#'then he started murdering his patients. what a piece of shit' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auteurdelabre · 2 months

Text

Window Dressing: Chapter 1 - Dave York x f!Reader

Window Dressing

pairing: Dave York x F!Reader (NO use of y/n)

Story summary: Resolving to achieve professional success within the CIA you embark on a ruthless game of one-upmanship against your work nemesis Dave York, a rivalry that is complicated by your growing attraction to him.

[AU - Dave is divorced and he still works for the CIA because I want our suburban murder daddy have a nice life. ]

Chapter summary: When the CIA director offers up an opportunity for field work you jump at the chance. Too bad your work nemesis and colleague is just as excited for the position.

Chapter Tags: Enemies to lovers, colleagues, work jargon, nicknames, mentions of divorce, disrespect.

a/n: I just finished my yearly rewatch of The Hating Game (y’all don’t come for me, my job is stressful and I like to decompress with something silly). And all I could think of was an MC and Dave in a similar situation and before I knew it the first chapter was already written. It’s gonna be cute and since its me there’s gonna be smut but unlike me, not a ton of angst. Don’t look to close at the CIA details because your girl don’t know shit about it. Just go with the romantic-comedy vibrations.

Chapter 1: CodeBook

Codebook: A list of plain language words opposite their codeword or codenumber.

Working at the CIA isn’t that much different from a normal day job as most people think.

You go to work in the subway along with everyone else. You read your paperback of the week sipping overpriced coffee and trying to ignore the stench of unwashed masses that dot the DC metro.

You wear comfortable shoes and pilled sweaters and your hair frizzes in the rain. You don’t look any different from anyone else that walks the terrain on their way to their Monday to Friday job. You start at eight am and end at five, unless a job requires you stay later.

Much like most offices with a lot of moving pieces, a majority of your job involves paperwork, worrying about schedules, IT problems, editing reports and more. It’s not as glamorous as the TV shows make it out to be. You are not Claire Danes in Homeland no matter how much you wish you were.

You wear a lanyard that holds a plastic square with your name and face on it that you scan at the entrance. Every morning you wave and say good morning to Dennis, the head of security at the front before slipping him a donut you got along with your coffee.

“You’re too good to me,” Dennis murmurs as you hand it to him.

You just smile. Dennis was one of the first people you met here at Headquarters and you have nothing but good things to say about him. He was kind and patient when everyone else rolled their eyes murmuring about the new hire.

The similarities to another corporate office might be that the coffee sucks and there are definitely cliques within workers. Considering you’re all in different departments this isn’t really much of a shock. Some of your departments overlap with one another, especially if there’s a potential high profile target.

You nod and smile at colleagues as you pass them on your way to the Operations department, ignoring the way many of them look more anxious than usual. This isn’t a surprise given what you saw on the news this morning.

You take the elevator down several floors before exiting and spotting a familiar slender figure perched on the edge of your desk. His hair is combed to either side of his pinched face and behind his thick framed glasses he looks like he’s analyzing something, as he always is.

“Hey Otis,” you say cheerfully as you lay down your purse at your desk.

Your desk is one of the few places in the world that feels uniquely you. You’ve decorated it with a pink stapler, purple and blue paper clips. Your folders are gold striped. Your desk itself is littered with a collection of tchotchkes from over the years, none more impressive than your rubber duck collection.

Otis pats one of your rubber ducks swiftly before standing and giving you a formal nod.

“Morning. I was just dropping some papers off and couldn’t help but notice you’ve added to your collection.”

You smile, nodding as you motion to your latest acquisition; a rubber duck playing the saxophone and wearing sunglasses. All the way from New Orleans and from a very competitive bidder on Ebay. But it was worth it to have your little jazz quacker sitting proudly with the others that line your desk.

Otis is one of the few people at work that doesn’t seem to be bothered by much. He does his job well and he always has an interesting fact to share. Well, interesting to him anyway.

Otis also likes to hover around your desk in the mornings for a chance to interact with your co-worker Priya. The prettiest girl at the CIA and the nicest. She brings in cupcakes for your entire team during holidays. She loves to laugh at everything you say, which makes you like her even more. She’s also wickedly smart and even faster than you at translation (which is saying something). As if on cue, you see her stumbling into the office with a coffee stain on her pale blue blouse.

“Damn potholes,” she mutters angrily, throwing her bag and onto her desk and giving her version of a frown, which is the equivalent to a kitten mewling for the first time.

“Morning Priya,” Otis says, his pale cheekbones pinking. You smirk, trying not to watch as their awkward flirtation commences.

“Morning Otis,” she replies cheerfully before organizing her desk for the day. “You have a good weekend?”

“Very,” Otis nods. You watch one of his long fingers tap along the head of your police officer duck nervously. “Uh, was watching a documentary on Jack the Ripper. Very intriguing.”

“Oh yeah,” Priya nods politely, her eyes on her computer as she boots it up for the day. You’re saved from the uncomfortable interaction by the sound of a female voice ringing out behind you. A voice that makes you sit straighter in your seat as you swivel your chair to face her.

She’s a fierce-looking Asian woman with short cropped hair and deep plum lipstick. All of her black blazers are tailored perfectly to her slender body and despite her diminutive stature you know she could kick anyone’s ass here.

“Meeting in five in Boardroom B,” Mina says to the crowd of arriving staff. “Don’t be late.”

She strides from you all, heels clicking against the tiled floor and the room seems to exhale in tandem. She’s terrifying. She’s amazing.

Mina Crawford is the Director for field officers and counter intelligence. She’s a former Clandestine Service officer and one of the few living recipients of the Intelligence Star. Basically, she’s your hero. And you want to follow in her footsteps because from what you’ve gathered she used to be in your exact position as a Languages Officer.

“She’s so cool,” you practically swoon.

“Ask her to be your mentor,” Priya insists for the fiftieth time.

“That would be humiliating,” you reply, as you always do. “I’m too old for a mentor.”

“No one is too old for a mentor,” Priya insists.

“You see that stuff on the news last night?”

“The parliament member in Lebanon?” Priya nods, dropping her voice quietly.

“I think they’re going to send someone into the field,” you say trying not to sound excited. “Someone with language experience.”

“You think?”

“Think about it,” you reason. “All the higher profile killings have been in places with very little English. Stands to reason they would send a Language Officer out.”

“Even with no field experience?” Otis asks. He looks doubtful which makes you frustrated. If Otis doesn’t think it’s gonna happen there’s a good chance it won’t. Brenda, a cheerful-looking woman in her fifties takes her seat in the desk next to you.

“Gotta learn somehow,” you shrug. “But maybe they’d team them up with a senior Agent or something.”

Priya is about to reply when her large eyes go over your shoulder and she grimaces.

“Here they come.”

You, Priya and Otis glance over to see eyes the crowd of suited men and women murmuring gently to themselves.

The Protective Officers.

If this was highschool they’d be the popular kids. Getting to go on glamorous field missions, being right in the heart of the action. All are good with their weapons, all look like they stepped off the pages of some high end catalogue because their paycheques far outweigh your own. Several of the younger men chuckle loudly, giving off the energy of an American Psycho Fraternity.

“Assholes like that get to go to foreign countries, to experience life all over the globe and we’re stuck here,” you grimace, typing your Algeria field notes later that day. “I can’t stand it.”

“I would hate to be in the field,” Brenda says with a theatrical shudder from beside you. “I like the safety of the desk.”

“That’s not why I went through basic training with an emphasis on stalk training,” you insist. You worked your ass off in training, making sure that you were as prepared as anyone else. While officers are rarely trained in weaponry or hand-to-hand combat you’d requested it. Worked earlier and stayed later if it meant a chance to learn more.

And now these chuckle-fucks come in with swinging dicks and they get all the glory. Two of them walk by you towards the coffee maker.

“And she was high key the best I’ve ever had,” one says to a man with perfect teeth.

“You have no rizz,” the younger man replies with a boisterous laugh. “How the fuck you pull that off?”

Jesus.

“You know I speak Russian, Spanish, Arabic and a handful of others and I will never be able to unravel the elusive bro code of the Protective Officers,” you muse dryly as you roll back in your chair. Otis smirks and Priya laughs behind her coffee mug, drawing the attention of several of the agents including your bitter work rival: Dave York.

Dave York is the most annoying man you know at the CIA. He is a senior agent well-liked in the office and he gets along with almost everyone. You’re quite the same within your department. But the two of you? There’s no love lost there.

Dave saunters over to your desk and you spin back around to face your computer. You have no desire to be caught up in a verbal sparring match today. You have to be focused for the meeting in case there is the offer of putting newbies into the field. It’s something you’ve dreamed about since you started here five years ago.

“Been to any fun graveyards lately, Parsons?” Dave offers with a touch of humor in his deep, rasping voice. A voice that you find impossibly grating. It’s like having your ears run over by a gravel truck.

“Actually yes,” Otis says with a bracing smile. “One in New Orleans just proved very useful.”

Otis Parsons is a Ghoul which means he parses obits and graveyards for deceased individuals agents can use for aliases. He enjoys his job more than most and with his severe eye contact and strangely chilling manner of speaking you can see why some are put off. You happen to think he’s hilarious in an eerie, Crispin Glover sort of way.

“Parker, I need these tapes from Algeria parsed,” Dave says flatly, tossing a file onto your desk without so much as a hello.

Your name isn’t Parker, neither first nor last. It’s a nickname given to you (unwillingly) by the tall man with dark eyes who looks down at you with a trace of amusement along his full mouth.

It’s what started this whole antagonistic relationship if you’re honest. Your first day on the job being introduced to the agency. Meeting every department head, learning names, faces. When you met Dave you’d been charmed by his winning smile, shaking his hand politely and even thinking distantly that if he weren’t wearing a wedding ring he’d be just your type with his soulful brown eyes and pouty mouth.

But then your eyes had slid to the large board on the wall, the one covered in newspaper clippings and strings and you’d started asking questions about the case. Your excitement had been evident; the questions pelted at a bemused looking Dave who scanned you from head to toe and announced that you were a Nosy Parker before excusing himself.

You hadn’t known what that meant and had offered a weak shrug in return before being whisked into the next department. When you’d returned home that evening and were able to use your phone you saw the definition pulled up on Google and you winced.

noun derogatory•informal noun: nosy parker; plural noun: nosy parkers; noun: nosey parker; plural noun: nosey parkers an overly inquisitive person.

You’d been embarrassed at being called that during your first day on the job in front of your superior. It made the following months tense as you navigated your position, learning from the woman Brenda whose job you were taking over. It made you second guess yourself every time you wanted to ask a question. It wasn’t until Priya started and she’d asked all the same questions and been answered with level kindness that you’d realized asking questions wasn’t nosy or annoying, it was how everyone learned.

Dave York has called you Parker ever since that day and you have hated him every time.

And now he stands beside your desk looking like some glorified accountant in his tailored suit shooting a supercilious look your way. He always wears shades of blue; navy, cobalt, baby blue and iceberg just to name a few. The worst part is it’s usually paired with a burgundy tie that clashes hideously. You know he’s not color blind, (you can’t be if you’re an agent), so you can only assume the choice is masculine ambivalence.

You open the file with a weary sigh. “Where in Algeria specifically?”

“Isn’t that your job, Parker?”

“You have nothing else to go on?” you sneer up at him, opening the folder. “Some agent.”

“Officer,” Dave corrects with a smirk before resting his hands on either side of your desk, bent over so he can capture your eyes with his. You blink rapidly, noting that today he’s missed shaving a small spot on his sharp jaw. It’s barely noticeable and if he wasn’t this close you’d never have known. But he is this close and suddenly that’s all you can focus on.

“You’re right,” Dave says, voice dropping an octave. “It’s much better that I use my considerable talents sitting on my ass going through hours of audio that rarely ever turns out to be useful. My mistake.”

You’re not stupid. You know that those of you in the Language department are seen as lesser agents. Your knowledge in languages makes you an asset in the office, not necessarily in the field. And yet they would be nowhere without you.

“Considerable talents?” you scoff before glaring up at him. “Is that what your wife tells you? Spoiler alert, York, she has to say that since her lapse in judgment at the altar.”

The benign amusement flees from Dave’s face immediately. You wait for the biting retort, the angry reply, but are instead greeted with the sight of Dave clenching his jaw tightly. You see the muscle in his face tic angrily before he turns; broad shoulders rolling as he pushes from your desk and rejoins the other Protective Agents.

What the fuck was that?

You frown at his back, confused before looking back down at the folder. Otis has excused himself as well, likely heading back down to his department. He won’t be needed for the meeting this morning. You feel Priya’s eyes on you and your tilt your head to face her.

“What?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Priya says with a concerned look on her beautiful face. “Him and his wife divorced last year.”

What the fuck? Since when?

For as long as you’ve known Dave York he has worn the same simple gold band on his left hand. You’ve even heard him talking about her in passing with other officers: Catherine or Carol? You know they’ve been married a while.

Since when is he divorced?

“What?” Your eyes blow wide at this, turning to your friend. “B-but he’s still wearing his ring!”

“Yeah,” Priya nods with a wince.

Fuck.

You don’t feel good about that. Dave is an asshole but you both know better than to get personal. You’ve never mentioned his wife until today and it turns out that was a good instinct on your part. Dave never mocks the fact that you go home every night to an empty apartment because even a goldfish was too much commitment for you, too much of a distraction from your work.

When the large group heads into the conference room you try to catch Dave’s eye and mouth an apology. But he’s already at the far side of the room with his agent buddies murmuring something and tapping away at his phone.

Mina stands at the podium waiting for everyone to take a seat and quiet down. Then she does and the briefing is similar to how it is most days lately. The assassin taking down members of parliament all over the world. The team doesn’t know if it’s an individual or an organization based on its sporadic movement.

“He’s targeting all higher profile members of senate across the globe,” Crawford says with a tired roll of her shoulders. “And from what I’ve seen they are extremely organized. Meticulous in knowing how far they can push without being caught.”

You scribble notes into your notebook while most of the group either types away on their phones or laptops. You’ve always found handwritten notes to be the best – they are less likely to be intercepted and written in your shorthand means that only you understand them.

You have a small code book included at the front, code names with numbers attached for people you work with. Priya is FFC0CB because she wears pink lipstick every Friday and that’s the hex code for pink. CG01 is Otis for his resemblance to a paler Crispin Glover. 00DH is Dave York and it stands for Double O Dick Head. You’d been particularly amused when you’d come up with that one.

You catch a pair of eyes on you and glance up down the table to see Dave watching your frenzied writing before giving the smallest shake of his head before he looks back at Mina.

“We’re putting together a team,” Mina says and this makes your head jerk up. “No details as of yet but there will be extensive travel involved so please let that influence your dedication and decision.”

Priya shoots you a look, one that says how did you know? And you try to tamp down the smile building there. It pays to pay attention, that’s how. You watch the patterns, you listen to the important silences that come between what’s said and you watch the news religiously.

“Considering the details on this we encourage individuals from all departments to apply,” Mina says eyes sailing over the crowd. You feel your stomach tighten pleasurably. This is just what you wanted. You just know you’d be an asset on this division.

“Deadline to submit is this Friday at five. That’s all. Good luck.”

The group dissolves and you and Priya make your way back to your desks. You’re on cloud nine, already formatting your CV in your head. Priya is yammering on about something but all you can focus on for that morning is the thought that you are going to be going into the field. You’re sure of it.

Its somewhere after lunch when the earlier conversation with Dave suddenly creeps back into your mind. It makes you feel uncomfortable and distracted. You don’t enjoy being cruel, it’s not in your nature.

It’s this which takes you to the elevator and down two floors to the department Dave works for. You walk through the fairly empty space with ease, jealous at how quiet it is with most of the officers out on jobs or doing field work.

Dave’s office is at the far end of the department and you see the door is ajar which means he’s in. Part of you is relieved, the other half disappointed. You’d half been hoping the room would stand empty and you’d be able to scribble some sad excuse for a note by way of apology. Writing an email would never be an option – too many eyes surveying everything that goes in and out of the office communication hubs.

. Dave is sitting behind his desk with a folder sat in front of him. His dark eyes jot to you as you enter. Unlike you, Dave has an entire office. It’s not massive, but it’s enough. However where you would have taken advantage to brighten up the space, it seems Dave is content enough to leave it looking like an empty shoe box. No family photos line his desk, no colorful knick knacks that give any indication about his personality. Nothing. Just flat, and dark and intimidating like his gaze.

There are two other officers sitting in the chairs across from him and they chat quietly, something you shouldn’t be overhearing and so you give a short knock before stepping into his office. The conversation is immediately dead and they swivel to glance over at you.

“Hey Dave,” you say grimacing. “I just wanted to-“

“You have the Algeria notes yet?”

“No,” you say holding in an eye roll. How did he expect you to have that information so quickly? He’s staring at you now, a file opened on his desk that he closes when you enter more fully into the office. Suddenly you feel wrong-footed, unsure of how to broach what you wanted to say since he’s surrounded by the other agents. He tilts back in his chair, arms crossed. Any mirth he usually reserves for you is gone.

“What do you want then?”

“It’s just… uh,” you say, suddenly aware of all the eyes of the other Protective Officers on you and you falter. You don’t want to have this conversation in front of everyone. “Do you have a sec? To talk in private?”

Dave rights his chair before fixing you with a dark look.

“How about you stop flitting around from department to department distracting people from trying to do real work?” He says sharply, his dark eyes narrowed. “Pretty sure Google translate could do your job and it would be a helluva lot less annoying.”

The other agents sitting near Dave exchange uncomfortable looks as you blink back at him. Irritation floods you, searing heat down the center of your chest. As he continues to glare at you there is the unmistakable sensation of your teeth grinding together angrily.

“You know what York? You can get Priya to do your translating from now on,” you spit, turning from him and heading into the empty hallway. Your cheeks are burning and you feet a pit in your stomach opening up.

Fuck you hate Dave sometimes.

You make your way to the elevator almost spitting. You wish for nothing more than to scrub Dave York from the face of the planet.

“Hey.”

Dave’s voice is a low rumble behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body inches from your back. But you pretend you haven’t heard him. The two of you load onto the elevator.

“Priya doesn’t speak Arabic,” Dave tells you like you’re not already very aware.

You continue to turn from him, not bothering to engage. You don’t have time to fight with Dave, you need to remember the name of your basic training officer to see if he’ll give you a letter of recommendation.

“You better be nice to me, Parker,” Dave says airily when you don’t reply. “Since everyone knows I’m going to be chosen for the mission.”

“You’re not going to be chosen for this one,” you snipe back at him, thankful there’s no one else in the confines of the elevator to witness how petulant you sound. “You have to be a team player for that. Everyone knows you like to fly solo.”

“Maybe I’ve changed,” he taunts, large eyes fixed on the rising numbers glowing above the buttons. “And besides, who do you think Crawford likes better? Me; the decorated field officer? Or you, the Language Officer with too many yellow sweaters?”

You want to snap back at him but you have a moment of concern at his words. You’d never considered this entire thing would be a popularity contest. Dave gets way more face-to-face with Mina than you ever will just by virtue of his job.

And hey, what the fuck? You like your yellow sweaters. In a job that can be dull or depressing having a color like yellow popping around the office makes you happy. It makes you wish more of the officers stopped dressed in drab neutrals.

Without warning your hand reaches out, slapping the emergency stop button. The elevator jerks to a halt with Dave eyeing you from across the small space. He’s a trained officer and you wonder if his instinct to pull a gun is kicking in when you see his fingers twitch at his side.

“I’m tired of you calling me Parker and making fun of my sweaters and my job and everything else,” you snap.

“I’m tired of you pretending like you’re better than everyone in the entire operations department because you can speak a handful of languages.”

“More than a handful,” you bite back, offended. “I’m a goddam polyglot.”

“How amazing for you,” Dave replies dryly. He crosses his muscled arms over his broad chest and you can’t help but observe how wide his shoulders are when they strain under his suit jacket. He fixes you with a look halfway between irritation and amusement.

Everything with Dave is a game of chicken; who will get closest without giving up? He does the same thing with inter office politics, pushing you past your limit until you run off with your tail between your legs, just like earlier in his office.

“I want to make a deal.”

Dave’s interested in this immediately indicated by the small curl of his mouth. “Go on.”

“If I get chosen for this elite squad you need to stop calling me Parker,” you tell him. “You leave off about my clothes and you start treating me with respect.”

“I do respect you,” Dave insists, brows furrowed. “You think I’d let anyone else do my translations?”

“You just said Google Translate would do a better job than me in a room full of other officers.”

Dave gives a crooked smile and a careless half shrug. “Was a joke.”

“Wasn’t funny.”

You bite the inside of your cheek when you feel your eyes getting glossy. You don’t want him to mistake your angry tears for sad ones. It’ll make you look weak when in reality it’s your barely contained rage that boils over, making your face hot and your eyes misty.

Dave’s smile dims and he gives a nod. “Yeah. Fair. Sorry.”

The apology is new though, that’s a nice manipulative touch on his part.

You don’t say anything more, and even though you want to apologize for the joke about his wife something in your stubborn attitude forbids it. Makes it impossible to apologize to Dave’s smug face staring at you.

“Everything okay in there?”

It’s the elevator repair team. Dave gives you a look with a raised brow, almost like he’s letting you know that you’re inconveniencing a lot of people today, not just him. You shoulder past him, getting closer to the speakerbox.

“Sorry about that,” you say into it. “I hit the button by accident. All good here.”

The elevator starts up again and the two of you lapse into silence. Soon enough you’re at the right floor and you prepare to exit, your mind still stuck on how to get an edge over your competition when all you have is a CV.

“So what do I get if I win, Parker?” Dave asks, dark eyes scanning your face with bemusement clearly written there. “What if I’m chosen for the team?”

“We don’t need to worry about that,” you say as the elevator dings to a stop. “You won’t be.”

“If I win you get rid of those ridiculous rubber ducks on your desk,” Dave insists watching you exit the elevator. “And you have to do all my translations without complaint for an entire year. Even the boring shit your department makes the grunts do.”

You frown at the possibility of doing all of Dave’s interpretations and translations. That could easily pile up and make your long days even longer. But there is a challenge in his eyes, one that you find you can’t back down from. So as the elevators slowly close on his smirking face you nod.

“Fine. Deal.”

TAG LIST: @morallyinept @yorksgirl @drewharrisonwriter @missladym1981 @lovelvyxxx @getitoutofmymind @mountainsandmayhem @mellymbee @stevie75 @@sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @sptbear @madnessofadaydreamer @@lola8888673 @angiewatson @kennysbellbottoms @survivingandenduring @pastawench

#dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york smut #dave york x female reader #rom com #romantic comedy #the hating game #enemies to lovers #Window Dressing #Valentine #Happy Valentines #valentines gifts

56 notes · View notes

makingfanfictionstosleep · 5 months

Text

My First But Not My Last.

Pairing : Gojo x Femreader, Geto x Femreader

Setting : Started from Pre-Cult Suguru Geto // Modified that Kenjaku will not totally take over Geto's subconscious later on // Girl bff Shoko, Mei Mei & Utahime, Strong sorcerer reader // Death, Murder Spree, Romance, Lemons.

Rating : M || m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t

Part 3 : My strongest

<< Previous ...... Next >>

Bleeding & broken.

That's how Satoru found you.

He took slow tentative steps toward you, avoiding the shards of glasses on the floor from the broken mugs & plates that he assumed you threw.

You did not even feel him approach you.

He knelt down & took you in his arms, your shoulders shaking as you cried yourself on his chest.

"None of this is your fault," Satoru said softly, "Forget that stupid man, you don't deserve to cry."

That's Satoru.

He has always been there for you, Satoru & Shoko.

He pulled you in his arms & carried you to the living room where a very worried Shoko & Meimei waited.

"Take her to the bath, we'll got it from there," you heard Meimei tell Satoru.

Your friends took care of you during that time, until you were able to get back on your feet.

Bless their beautiful souls for being very patient with you because you were very stubborn.

You started to move forward. But you did not move on right away. Your concern turned to regrets, to spite.

You began to spite Suguru Geto because Satoru was right - none of this was entirely your fault. He knew what he was doing. He's the same man who told Satoru that your skills & talents must be used to save as much non-sorcerers as you can.

He's a hypocrite.

But he was your hypocrite.

He was yours.

But it did not matter anymore.

Because you tried your best & it's time to put yourself first.

Your wake up call to move forward was when your favorite ice cream shop was set into fire along with the owner - your good friend, & with other non-sorcerers.

He is not your Suguru Geto anymore. He has become someone you don't know.

"Satoru," you called the white haired man who was resting lazily under one of the trees in Jujutsu high, "Oi Satoruuuu!"

He turned his head toward your direction, both arms under his head, "What?"

"I learned something new. You're gonna like this," you said with a confident smirk, "Turn your stupid infinity on."

Satoru remained lying on the grass, "I got them on all the time, stupid. Get on with it."

You rolled your eyes & focused your energy. Then you placed the tip of your index finger on his forehead, directly touching it, surprising Satoru, before you flicked his forehead.

"Ow! How did you do that?" He asked, sitting up rubbing his forehead, "Not bad, Y/N."

"I can finally touch the untouchable Gojo Satoru," you said smugly, sitting down in front of him, "You're not the only one who has a weird family ability. I think I inherited my grandmother's nullification ability - to which no one has ever seen for years!" You said just to tease him.

Well it's the truth. Many thought that the ability was gone, long before Sukuna's era, but your grandmother chose to live a simple life away from the sorcerer world because she just wanted to have a normal life.

Your mom inherited amplification & that's what you got. Plus nullification. So you can multiply & nullify any curse technique.

You just have to learn more about it & Gojo Satoru is the best practice material you can have.

"I guess I'll be your punching doll? That's why you're here?"

And he read your mind.

"Bingo! You are perfect for this role. Don't worry, Shoko will put your broken pieces back together after I'm done with you. I just need to get used to it. I think I can combine my techniques & use little curse energy when I nullify shit," You mused as you stared at your fingers," Meimei already taught me how to use my amplification technique well & I think I can use that to minimize the energy that use to nullify curses."

"When do we start?"

You stared at him with your pretty eyes, smiling as you tried to act adorable, knowing that Satoru would understand why you're looking at him that way.

"What? You mean now?!" He asked, standing up with his hands on his hips as he looked at you incredulously.

"Duh?" you answered, extending your arms to him as he pulled you up, "I wanna beat you at being strongest."

"You wish," Satoru answered confidently, trailing behind you as you walked back to the school grounds.

You remembered how Satoru helped you move forward. Well, not just him, your friends did a lot to help you get to where you are right now.

You focused all your energy to become stronger for a whole year.

Because one day, you know that your paths would cross & you're on opposite sides.

You swore to protect the weak like he did.

But now he is eliminating the weak.

And while you loved him so much, you can't stand for what he is doing.

"There's my princess," you felt a soft peck on your cheek, "Where were you? I have been looking for you all over the school."

You turned your head towards the man who sat beside you, "I have been here, working, when you should be too," you replied to Satoru, your now-boyfriend.

It did not hapoen right away. It was gradual.

You just realized that you were falling for him, when he told you that he has always been in love with you the same time when Suguru Geto did.

You just loved him first because Suguru was not a hard man to love.

Was.

But as you spent time with Satoru, you saw him more than the 'Strongest Gojo Satoru' that everybody sees. To you, he is just Satoru. Goofy, soft-hearted, kind, caring, smart, very laid-back & most of all, the man who brought your heart back to life.

When you thought you wouldn't be able to love again, he was there to prove you wrong.

Plus, he is the best you have ever had, yes better than your murderer ex - he made sure of it. Because if there's something to remember about Gojo Satoru, that would be his hate for losing.

Competitive bastard.

"Well you've been here for hours. You have to take a break," he said turning your chair to his direction as he pulled you toward him. He sat down & pulled you on his lap, his arms around you tiny wist, his lips kissing your neck sensually as you threaded your fingers in his hair.

"Mhmm, but we're at school. Somebody could just walk in -"

He cut you off with a kiss which you returned gladly.

"Ssssh, I locked the door," he smiled against your lips before kissing you again while he caressed your back, squeezing your ass, while you made out passionately.

He slowly lifted your skirt, your shirt already unbuttoned as you changed position to straddle him. He pushed your soaked underwear aside, tracing your wet folds, your back arched while your tongue continued to dance with his.

You kissed the sensitive spot behind his ear, mking him moan slightly as you nibbled his earlobe.

"Satoru, I want you so bad," you rasped in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

You ended up sprawled in your office table, with Satoru fucking your brains out, your work long forgotten the moment he entered you.

"Oh gooood," you muffled your moans as you don't want anybody to hear.

"Cum for me, princess," he commanded & it was like a switch that was turned on. You felt the tension building up in your belly & not long after, you were a shaking mess under him, as he continued to fuck you with no mercy.

"Not yet done with you, love," he hissed between his teeth, "Not fucking done with you yet," he said between his thrusts, "Until I get my fill, which will never be full because you are like a fucking drug to me."

You'd definitely work overtime today.

A/N : Typed on my phone. Gradually proofreading typos. Please bear with me.

#gojo satoru smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jjk gojo #satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu satoru #jjk satoru #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto smut #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru

67 notes · View notes

thebibutterflyao3 · 1 month

Text

Day Sixteen - Prompt: Binge @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 731 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Barty ignored Frank’s good-natured prattling with this bloke with the in-progress dragon tattoo and focused on the door that he’d heard slam closed after Evan walked by. He was fairly certain that it was the one that led out to the smoking area. The urge to chase after him was strong, but he knew better than to act on it.

His hands flexed against the sides of the table when he heard the faintest rumble of Evan’s voice. A phone call, maybe. Barty hoped it wasn’t with another bloke. Murder would be a shit way to start this week.

“Yeah, it can be rough the first time,” Frank said, leaning forward to squeeze Barty’s shoulder. “When you’re an old pro like Barty here, it’s nothing. How many times have you fallen asleep on my table, mate?”

Barty cleared his throat, but his voice still came out strained. “No idea. A lot.”

He wasn’t sure if Frank was trying to relax him or warn him. Either way, the message was received. Barty hated how perceptive his flatmate was.

“You fell asleep? Really? How?” dragon tattoo said.

“The vibrations are relaxing.”

Frank lifted the back of his own shirt and pointed. “Happens more often than you’d think. See this one, on my back? Passed out for a full four hour session. Best sleep I’ve ever had.”

Dragon tattoo gaped at him, shaking his head. Frank grinned and swivelled back around. He loved to show off for the newbies.

“I can’t imagine that!” Dragon tattoo said, eyes wide. “I’m just trying not to tear up in there.”

“Rosier can be a little heavy-handed, but he’s bloody good too. You definitely want him for a piece like that. He’s patient.”

Barty nodded in agreement as he glanced back at the bloke Evan was working on. Dragon tattoo had introduced himself when he wandered over, but Barty wasn’t paying attention and hadn’t caught his name. What he did catch was Evan storming out after Barty’s comment about him being brilliant.

He is brilliant though. It wasn’t a lie.

“Good to know! This is my kid’s artwork, so I wanted to do it justice.”

Kid? I was right then. He’s probably straight.

That was more comforting than it probably should have been. Evan was a professional. It cost Barty an obscene amount of money and multiple weeks to convince him to break his “no clients” rule. Now that he’d broken it though…Evan could do it again.

Frank's loud, booming laugh interrupted his thoughts. “Yes! I prefer to wait until all the episodes are out and binge that whole season!”

“Same, but I have no self-control,” dragon tattoo replied. “I can’t help myself!”

Barty twisted at the waist to meet the bloke’s gaze. “Better fucking try.”

“What?”

Frank tensed his grip on Barty’s leg. That was definitely a warning. He knew he was acting irrationally, but he didn’t care.

“Control yourself,” Barty said, glaring pointedly at the bloke. “Around him.”

Dragon tattoo stared at him incredulously, then blinked very slowly. “Him who?”

“Ignore him. He’s obsessed with Rosier.” Frank shoved Barty back down onto the table roughly. “Calm your tits, arsehole.”

“The tattoo artist? Why would I—”

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Frank said, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s a bit dramatic, that’s all.”

Dragon tattoo made a hasty exit from the conversation as soon as the door slammed again, announcing Evan’s return. Barty tried to peer over his shoulder, but Frank still had his hand pressed in the middle of his back.

Look at me, Evan. Come on. Say something. Anything.

“Alright, Rosier?” Frank called cheerfully.

“Fine.”

Barty forced his muscles to relax and pressed his cheek against the cold black leather. A strong scent of antiseptic leached out of the fabric. The familiarity of it grounded him a little.

Even if he couldn’t see, speak to, or approach Evan, Barty needed to be near him. He couldn’t stay away. Hearing his voice was comforting. It was only a one-word answer forced out with half-growl, but it was something.

Frank leaned forward and flicked the back of his ear hard. “Don’t be an arsehole or I’ll kick you out. Not everyone wants to have their guts rearranged by your ex.”

“Then they’re idiots.”

“His dick is that good, huh?” Frank teased. “Are you addicted to it?”

“Love is a serious mental disease,” Barty deadpanned.

“Prat. Which one was that?”

“Plato.”

Next Part>>>

#barty crouch jr x evan rosier #evan x barty #barty x evan #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty jr #evan rosier #frank longbottom #ted tonks #rosekiller #rosekiller microfic #slytherin skittles #marauders era

29 notes · View notes

criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 year

Text

Pascal characters' fave sex positions

It's probably been done before, but let's have fun. Doing (heh) the ones I've written.

Frankie. My boy wants eye contact. Would be into tantric sex, if he only knew what it was. Favourite position is lotus. You on top, but both of you doing the work. Slow and intimate, both hands free to roam and caress. Kissing, or foreheads together as you rock gently in rhythm. Plenty of opportunity to go harder, if need be. You gorgeous tits near his face. He's in heaven.

Javi P. From behind. Duh. He wants it hard and fast. Even when it's serious, and he's opened up to you, is devoted to you, and has started to heal from all the shit that happened in Colombia, he needs to lose himself in the grip of your cunt, the sweat running down his body, your wails of pleasure, the way your pretty ass bounces with each thrust. The messed up lad has some issues but knows what he likes, ok?

Ezra. Anything goes as long as your legs are on his shoulders and you're holding on to something for dear life.

Dieter. Amazon. Hoo boy does this babygirl love to be fucked by you in that position! Legs akimbo in the air, you bouncing on his dick like he's nothing but a sex toy to you. That's the good shit. He's gonna marry the fuck outta you.

Mando. One day he wants to be able to remove his helmet and have really intimate missionary sex with you, but he's not there yet, poor guy. Until then, the touch-starved little critter has to make do with the next best thing: your soft, round ass. God, it drives him wild to see that ass bounce. His favourite, therefore, is you reverse riding him. He mourns the fact that he can't gaze into your eyes and bask in the pleasure that he sees in them, but he is a patient man. He'll get there, eventually. For now, he enjoys the fuck out of your slow ride or energetic bouncing, your beautiful butt there for him to grab. Tin can man needs softness in his life, okay?

Marcus M. This is a man who will lie next to you and kiss and caress you for three hours straight before he slides into you and fucks you slowly on your side. It's not the most practical position but he wants both of you to be comfortably reclined, and in full body contact. At some point you're just sharing limbs and there is no telling where you end and he begins. It's really nice.

Joel. This middle-aged, broken piece of sweet, competent garbage fucks hard and fast because death lurks around every corner and this time could be his last. He'll dig so deep into you in missionary that you're sure he'll reemerge with gold or something. You always walk funny after. His knees always hurt. It's worth it.

Pero. He will have his dick sucked, thank you. The women he gets involved with are unsanitary and he doesn't need a new itch down there. Learn that the hard way. (Feral lil shit never stops to think about how often he washes his dick, though.) He will fuck a pair of nice big titties, too. No woman ever got knocked up from having her face painted white, if you catch my drift.

Dave. To suburban murder daddy it's not so much the position as it is the location. He loves danger, and lives for any kind of risky fornication he can think of: Walmart's parking lot, in the backseat with tinted windows, restaurant bathroom, his home office during a phone conference, the cinema, Thanksgiving dinner at his parents' house... you get it. He is the fingering king who can get you off with the crook of one of his fingers faster than any vibrator, before he presses you up against the wall or bends you over to fuck you fast and hard, before people start to wonder what's going on.

Oberyn. Hanging upside down in a trapeze or some shit. King is an athlete. Don't let the constant eating and lazy cat-in-a-sunny-spot manners fool you. He's just fuelling up.

#frankie morales #javier peña #dave york #ezra #dieter bravo #pero tovar #oberyn martell #marcus moreno #joel #the mandalorian #my fic #headcanons

392 notes · View notes

spotsupstuff · 4 months

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Rage against the reflection - Boreas and Orion Words: 10 613 (woops) Warnings: war and horrors of it, murder, Boreas being shit at healthy sibling relationships

Boreas’ Blessing was supposed to be a correction of the mistake that was the true first Iterator of the Eo group, Abet Zephyr. Named after the strongest wind god, begging him to bless and reach through this Iterator in kindness. A great bio-machine that was a gift to both the world and a divinity.

Physically he was made larger than any other. Stronger, more durable, with the ability to fix any damage to him in record time by giving him the ability to command and produce the fixing microbes usually used in buildings beneath the clouds. That required him to be aware of every last piece of his facility grounds- anything that the Anemons would want to last. And so he is aware of every footstep that falls on the streets of his city, Desaevio. He knows what animals crawl through the pipes in the lowest reaches of his pillars, what feeds in his farm arrays, what his Houses say even in the tallest building. Omnipresent… Once his facilities are entered, he sees you.

Capable of rearranging molecules as he sees fit, the industrial miracle that he already was became an industrial hub. Almost any complex material anyone in the Eo group receives is basically conjured out of thin air by him.

Even in the weaving of his genes an exception was made within his taboos. As a determined capital city of the group, the Aeolus Council decided to grant him a little more freedom for the benefit of public safety. Or their own, the more cynical ones say.

Personality-wise he was programmed to be especially protective, of both himself and his citizens and with the taboo exception of being able to attack and kill an invader he’s well able to follow this personality urge. It is said that there are still leftovers of other strings of code that dictated him to be loving and kind, soft and considerate, patient, understanding. All that one would want from a protector.

But programming an Iterator personality is… a kind of a minute thing. Personalities (especially theirs) are able to develop and change as an individual learns about the world in order to adapt to it. And what is a bigger incentive for a need of adaptation than traumatization.

Orion’s Pathway still remembers his elder brother before the change.

Because things started changing once Orion’s construction was announced to the public and things *really* changed when he was finished being built, Abet Zephyr explained to him one day.

She continued clearing up his confusion by disclosing that Orion pretty much carries the same core aspects of personality like Boreas originally did. Basically the same is the case with the physical build of Orion’s superstructure.

Boreas just worked out for the engineers of the Eo group, so they took the success and copied it at a smaller scale without so many revolutionary technologies and built it all some distance away in the northeast, at the edge of Root Aeolus’ range.

For all purposes and reasons, Orion is just a humbler Boreas 2.0 with a different name, city and puppet.

“A brother!” She said, clumsily trying to sound comforting through the ever present static and glitches in her voice. “A… reflection of what he could have been, now. Perhaps what he *should* have been.” She continued, sadder than usual but still holding on to her characteristical solemnity.

“Why isn’t he that reflection himself, then? Find himself a reflective surface, stare at it, cut it at that. He scoffs at me now, levels me with glares and contempt. I know he’s been hurt, but I do not know how. He didn’t look at me that day, I didn’t call out for him.” Oh how frustrated Orion has been with this.

At first he did feel that brotherhood with Boreas’ Blessing. He felt close to the other and the other guided him as he caught his bearings. Suddenly existing, being alive, wielding such a giant and mighty body through multitudes of smaller bodies is no easy task. He was forever thankful when his Mechanics reported for duty and, wonderfully, Boreas reached out to him through a broadcast.

Who better to walk him through the art of gentleness than someone who politely closed doors behind his citizens, carefully played and joked with children thousands of times smaller than him, softly turned on each streetlamp as the sun slowly set in the west.

Though Orion has no such control over the city of Terminus, Boreas holding his hand through the familiarization process was… well, a blessing. Boreas was truly a blessing. But now…

“It isn’t my fault he got hurt.” He says to senior Abet Zephyr, frowning, pouting the best the limited face of his puppet can. “I refuse to take responsibility for it as he seems to wish for me to do or weather this treatment. I don’t want it. Let him stew in it and shrivel up.” He crosses his arms, letting the simple childish anger at it pool right out through his words.

“I do not blame nor fault you for that, Orion. But watch your tone.” She hisses, immediately righting a wrong he doesn’t see yet. It’s a bit too sharp for the barely one year old him and he flinches away. To that, she immediately softens. Gives him an apologetic nod of her head that makes her spine creak terribly.

He forgives- she already fretted, uncomfortable and worried about interacting with him, about how little experience she has with being gentle. Everything of her is sharp edges and rabid agony. She’s trying to learn despite *all that* and never means to cut either of her little brothers. That is all Orion really needs to know.

“Watch your tone, watch your tone…” shushed, she reiterates. “Not for Boreas’ s-sake, but yours. Arrogance and disinterest are a poison. Do your best to keep yourself clean of them as long as possible. As much as this damn world allows. Balance of loving yourself and lack of expansion over other’s presence is important, child. You do not have the right to spit and look down upon someone else, wish them wrong.”

Sigh. “We all are riddled with faults and only one that is without mistakes would have a right to do that. None exists- such as that.”

“Ah.” He nods, understanding. He files the lesson away to a different front of his mind to ponder it after the call. “I know my worth. And that value doesn’t agree with this treatment.”

“Mm. I agree-e with your evaluation.”

“What am I to do, then?��

Abet Zephyr considers. Maybe how much should she point him towards answers, after all he needs to learn. Including such a thing as thinking for himself. Or maybe she’s trying to parse how to navigate through the relationships. Between him and Boreas, but also herself and him.

…they’ve only had each other for so long. Each time Boreas spoke about her to him, before this conundrum, his face took on the softest expression. He has seen how much joy their banter brings the both of them. Orion wouldn’t blame her if she wouldn’t be able to give him a harsh option.

“You could completely cut him off.”

Blink blink. So maybe he’s wrong! “I could What???” In terrible confusion, he shrugs at her. “I thought you two are extremely close??”

Completely unfazed, Abet Zephyr waves a hand as if trying to sweep away the stupid question. “That we are, yes. Of course.” “Then? Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

“You are not me, child. Your situation-tion with him is very different from mine in many facets. He would never dare to dismiss *me* as a mirror or some spectre representing the potential of his past self, yet to be twisted. That is a serious thing, you need to act appropriately.”

“Mh…”

“But yes, that is sort of the… worst case scenario solution,” she admits, squinting. Her bad eye flickers and the next words come hard, through a wall of white noise. “I would… recommend attemptin…g.. to talk about it. Warn twice, cut once- s-ssee how he will r…”

With a shudder, her puppet slumps forward against its knees. The speakers crackle into quiet and the few internal pieces of her still functioning whine behind the walls.

That is his cue to leave.

To the unresponsive empty puppet, to the trapped suffering Hivemind consciousness of his older sister, Orion gives a respectful bow and whispers a gentle thank you, tinted with mourning. He wishes her that this episode won’t stretch for too long.

The Overseer rejoins with the rest of Orion’s Pathway Hivemind safely. The Individuality marvels at the reconnection, the members drink in the little eye’s sensation of travel. The feeling washes over them- it’s like a breath of fresh air.

Riding the high of it, everyone comes together and they call Boreas, positive that it’s going to get better and they’ll have their brother Hivemind back again as it used to be.

…it doesn’t get better.

The moment Boreas sees him, hears Orion’s voice, his face twists into an ugly thing. He pretends to listen for a second and then tells him to go away without a single attempt to engage with the topic. Orion gets angry and puts a bit too much of an uncompromising tone for Boreas’ taste into his next sentence.

That apparently justifies growling, screaming, threats… he pulls out of the conversation scared.

And when the Mechanics ask him why the readings are telling them the whole Hivemind is having a panic attack, he refuses to disclose it. Only asks them to help him calm down artificially.

Things with Boreas get some worse each time Orion tries to reach out and talk (it's been more than twice. why isn't he cutting, why is he still taking this-) until they finally plateau at Shitty.

Orion’s Pathway learns how to work all by himself in record time, baffling the exchange Mechanics from the Wellspring continent. They say that it’s usual and healthy for Iterators to interact and bounce ideas and theories off of each other, even if loneliness may be a good tool within the spirituality. The Anemons can’t really keep up with them, day and night, so they need each other especially while they are still maturing. They whisper behind his back that they are worried he will be broken. He hears them by accident and they are sorry.

Still he doesn’t say that he’s unwilling to interact with the only Iterator whom’s existence they acknowledge in this group, because he is a terrifying and mean one- they know that anyway. And they don’t care that they are maintaining that rabid dog. Maybe if he told them, they would’ve tried connecting him to an Iterator from a different group, but well… he chooses the polite silence.

As for his only other choice, senior Abet Zephyr… she tries to be there for him. She teaches him the lessons that she can, mostly about morality and philosophy they are supposed to dedicate their function to. But she can’t do much more. Her own hardware is mangled beyond recognition. She doesn’t have any pointers or tips on how to wield the lab equipment reasonably. Even then, she’s often too tired to speak or is just left straight up unresponsive.

So the Iterator adorned with a star for a blazon clenches his metaphorical jaw and forces himself through the learning process. It feels like the entirety of him starts adopting some of the cold of the northern hemisphere directly into his chest. Too weak to handle loneliness by himself.

Then a new Iterator came online.

Inconvenient Sporadic Change has strange eyes. They are white and wide, with emotive pupils, usually filled with nervousness and panic. The Anemons say one of her main purposes will be researching medicine and other hospital-related things. Her city, Chlora, was even built in such a way so she could interact with the Anemons more directly. Even with the fragile infants!

And… She stays without help longer than he did.

Orion counted on Boreas making the first step, what with it being his job as the available senior. Calling her, explaining to her who and what they all are, how to work her comms and so on. But he didn’t.

When he realizes that this poor new person has been left alone far too long because of his (correct) assumptions, he reaches out immediately. He stays with her for three days and nights, showing her things, answering all questions she had… getting to know her.

Spore’s laughter is a shy pretty thing, her smile something to stay warm for. She often falls into the state without Individuality, says they find it comfortable to just exist with each other much to his intrigued surprise. She was given a mushroom cap hat for her puppet and they all love it! Pulled at the sides of it, framing her face, making him grin. She said, ‘I adore taking care of everyone, they are like miracles to us- wondrous just by living.’ and suddenly there was magic in the world, brought to him by her.

They grow close extremely quickly, upgrade to nicknames basically immediately even though the Anemon customs usually go against that, out of respect for strangers. But she’s his little sister Spore and he will protect and accompany her till the end of their lives. He’s her big brother Ori and she will make him smile, be his companion. They are each other’s, holding hands through radio waves.

And they will be alright.

The next Iterator created is Aftertaste of Disdain. She is a very strange one. She cuts without an issue, unlike him.

He waited for Boreas to make the first step again for a day, but of course he disappointed on that front. So he reached out to her. And what did Aftertaste of Disdain do???

She Declined The Damn Call.

Who the hell declines their first call. Who the hell knows HOW to decline their first call. One usually fumbles around trying to answer it before it automatically goes through. What is this.

She writes him a message (a message!!! he didn’t figure those out until they were shown to him!!) about five hours later.

AoD: Pardon me, I was negotiating with a ghost. What did you seek to converse about, sir?

Again. What the hell is this.

OP: You were What? AoD: Negotiating with a ghost. OP: Negotiating with a *ghost???* AoD: Yes, sir. OP: They are actually real? Wait- and- How. You are barely two cycles old. AoD: Well, the bloke sort of infiltrated my facilities out of nowhere while I was going through the list of my functions for orientation purposes. He was a bit upset about my existence I’ve gathered, something about throwing shade at his chosen place of haunting? And then he started spitting hard to discern rubbish. AoD: I tried to reason with the fellow at first, but he was so bloody mad he refused to listen. I concluded he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic and upon his next outburst- which happened approximately 2.451 seconds after my conclusion- I began to throw hands. OP: With a Ghost??? AoD: With a ghost. AoD: It was a battle of wits and mind! I’ve even managed to chaff him a tad here and there, too! Bloody radical. The mind more so as in he was only capable of mental attacks so I turned to my nature as a Hivemind and committed to ensnaring the fellow by the encircling method. Like predatory animals. AoD: You understand. To make another attempt at communication. Unlike predatory animals.

Oh he’s hooked now.

OP: Uh-huh, I do. AoD: At first I was a little worried. As you have pointed out, I happen to be barely two measly cycles old. The nerve! He tried to possess us! OP: Oh no- AoD: I had gone majorly unpossessed however. Worry not, good sir. OP: Oh, thank the void! AoD: Indeed. AoD: At some point we’ve collectively realized the ghost is more a nuisance than a serious threat. You see, we were too plentiful for him to effectively overtake, especially while divided, out of our state as an Individual.

Saints dammit, this literal baby has a better grip on her identity than him. She already weaponized it, someone has to be pulling his leg.

AoD: He jumped from multiple neuron flies, Inspectors, spider starfish, streak antiseptics, rest docks and, most notably, he somehow managed to possess the same Attendant five times. It was Attendant #3546. We dubbed it the unluckiest bloke present within our internal facilities. OP: That’s tough. AoD: Yes. It is currently sending in a very minor despondency. We are performing soothing procedures as we speak. AoD: Either way, with our acknowledgement that he is unable to seriously harm us, we’ve changed our approach to the situation to a more reckless one. AoD: It had proved to be an alright call. We ensnared the fellow within twenty minutes afterwards. The negotiating took up the largest amount of time. AoD: Turns out ghosts are susceptible to emotional outbursts they cannot control as a result of their manic clinging to the physical world (which is of emotional nature too) rather than passing onto the next incarnation. Maybe this is already a known fact, but given the circumstances, I did not have the chance to read up on them yet.

It is… not a known fact. Not as far as he can see in the entry on ghosts and spectres he absentmindedly looked up. These things aren’t researched too much. Ghosts are like the exact opposite of what Iterators are searching for- how to stop being a slave to the Great Cycle en masse. There *are* the Echoes which are actually the reason for the existence of the Iterators, but those can allegedly occur only when the Void Fluid is involved.

OP: That is very much understandable. You’ve handled the situation very well! AoD: Thank you, sir. This whole tale ultimately culminates in the fact that I now have a new Hivemind-mate. OP: You didn’t exorcise it-??! AoD: Sir, with all due respect, that is my buddy now. AoD: So. What did you wish to speak about?

Aftertaste of Disdain, to say the least, ends up being a great addition to their slowly growing group. At this point in time they are able to reach out to Iterators in other groups without much trouble, but having their own team grow is… nice. Especially considering the first two members are generally unavailable. Most of the time it’s just him, Spore and Disdain in all of their work-related discussions.

Spore and Abet Zephyr get along well, in retrospect. With how sensitive Spore is, Zephyr visibly acts like she’s walking on broken glass around her, but it’s endearing more than demeaning. Spore appreciates it. It’s all kind of adorable. Which is weird to call senior Abet Zephyr, but it sure is happening.

With Disdain it was another whiplash.

He was sort of worried at first. Both of them don’t like beating around the bush much. He found out Disdain’s story about her wrestling match with a ghost was so long only because he kept prompting it- she was ready to drop the topic first sentence in, in favor of getting to the point of him initially calling her.

This was either going to end in an argument or-

The two ended up getting along swimmingly.

They greeted each other (very shortly and directly), they locked lenses for a while… and then proceeded to have a conversation with the least amount of fucks given he’s ever attended. Compared to the rigidly polite culture of the higher circle of Anemons he is used to- it was just plain obscene. Almost had a heart attack. At the end, Zephyr said that Disdain might be her favorite. He was too flabbergasted to react in any other way than nod.

Introducing the girls to Boreas was… Horrible.

Orion already went in with spite boiling in him. They should already know him. He should’ve been the first to meet them, with Abet Zephyr’s inability to do so. *He* should be introducing them to Orion right now.

With Spore it was worse. Of course.

They group called and barely managed to get a greeting out and he was already glaring. With Boreas being new to Spore, alongside being glared at with such passion, she flinched away from the screen real bad. He took a note of this and worsened that glare to something so intimidating that poor Spore squawked, apologized profusely for intruding while trembling like a leaf and left.

That was the first time the Orion Hivemind felt hate bubbling in their consciousness.

But as they looked from the place Spore’s screen was a moment ago to Boreas to confront him, the hate fizzled out unceremoniously. The expression now fixated on him. His eyes were sharper than the fangs of red lizards, more terrifying than the pittering steps of an unseen giant spider.

For a second, he tries to stand his ground. Tries to frown back and get them on an equal ground, make the reflection match. But he gives up, too afraid of his senior. He turns his head away in submission, breaks the line of sight with his winged antenna and finally, retreats.

The reflection is inherent, yet he can’t seem to make it at least match. He can’t take the stare.

When it comes to Disdain’s turn, he thinks he will do better. He ends up doing worse.

Mainly because instead of focusing on the newbie like last time, Boreas immediately levels Orion.

Disdain doesn’t let that slide and starts a fight. She calls their placeholder senior names, matches his vile glare without an issue, stubbornly doesn’t back away until the introductions are over. Orion isn’t sure if this is just how she is or if her alleged ghost roommate is backing her up and so she isn’t terrifyingly alone in this like he is, but… he thinks his- as of right now- youngest sister might be his hero.

He better tell her, one day. The thank you he left her with that day didn’t feel like enough.

This has become the norm. A new Iterator is built, Orion’s Pathway reaches out to them first and guides and teaches them as much as they need. Then he introduces them to Boreas’ Blessing which is always terrifying and sometimes Abet Zephyr, if the newbie is considerate and kind enough and she’s able to handle introductions.

Orion knows everyone so well. He knows something went wrong with Gem in an Eye’s sympathy modules and he’s trying to figure out how to help her- or he considers her state of being from a philosophical angle. He admires Ideas of Scales’ sense of justice, he hums songs with the mellow Of Forgotten Hiraeth and asks her about Zephyr, since she’s built oh so close and visits her often. He knows that despite his best attempts at indifference, it bothers Purpose of Time that the plating of his puppet is matte translucent and that it lacks legs. Or that Fish Inside a Birdcage might exclaim all the time he’s in no way a part of any Iterator group, but gets all giddy whenever Orion calls to share some of his recent iterations with him.

He shares stories with Reclusive Reed about the darkness of night and what it does to swamps, what fireflies up north look like once they dig themselves out of soil in summer. With Torched Beacon, they spin tall tales in free time about the seas that wash against their structures’ legs, make up fairies and gods to explain the waves rather than to turn to logic. Blunt End of an Arrowhead tells him all about wildlife and the hunting of it, her voice strong with authority that reminds him of seniors all across the globe, even though she is a Generation 2. And he admires her for that. Even though he is the Third, he doesn’t believe he’d make a good senior.

At this point, he’s been sort of forced into working with Boreas’ Blessing a few times. He still dodges eye contact, keeps the interactions as short as he can. But he doesn’t fear him like death itself anymore. The terror became old, familiar (and isn’t that even scarier). For the minutes of extreme discomfort born of direct long interaction when he has to introduce the newbies to Boreas because of protocol, he is willing to pay.

Because in these new people he found home and purpose, identity beyond being a scared reflection, trapped in a mirror not of his own making nor choice. These fellow communities of creatures, his family, expanded his world beyond the bounds of his superstructure, beyond his relationship with Boreas.

They *freed* him. Without them even knowing about it.

But everything comes apart at some point during the middle ages of the Generation 2 era.

There hasn’t been an actual war in the world in ages. With everyone focusing on the soft aspects of the world- the feelings, emotions, morality, mind, heart, predominantly the matters of the soul- nobody was exactly eager to start something that would end with mass bloodshed. It’d go right with the very first sin, the most basic one to get over. Wars were things of the past. Before the Void Fluid was found and the Global Religion blessedly took strong hold over the whole planet.

Anemons are people of introspection. Not of ammunition and blades.

Yet here one came. With him damn near right in the middle of it, unable to run away, being rooted in the earth as he is. There was no other choice than to become a military base. To iterate war tactics, to let his retaining walls be rebuilt into impossibly tall borders. To kill his identity as a holy, pure object- murder himself as a manmade god in favor of turning into a scout.

Well, first the reason for it-

One day, the group above the Children of Eo, called Frost’s Promise, just declared war on them. Later he would learn that their reason for it was a collapse of one of their own Iterators. It was a city bearer… So many lives lost in such a horrible way, so many left without work, shelter and safety.

The Iterator, Inner Compass, allegedly collapsed by purposeful bombing. Frost’s Promise blamed Children of Eo, considering they are the closest and some past political skirmishes.

*Purposeful bombing,* Void below. Orion doesn’t believe it. They are definitely lying. It had to be an inside job- bloody self-sabotage for the sake of a reason to go to war with the better developed and cultivated Eo.

Apparently there were explosives strapped to Compass’ legs, nestled within as well, and then someone pushed the button. If the bombs were only outside, he’s sure an Iterator would’ve survived it, even though reports on Compass say he was a very precarious mix of Generation 1 and 2. The real destruction was brought down by the explosives from within.

From attempts at reconstruction of the attack or at least finding a logical explanation, it was determined those damn things were nestled right next to his powerlines. So there was a chain reaction in enough of the legs that he started tipping over. There was nothing Compass, his admin or anyone else in the entire universe could’ve done to prevent the crash.

He went up in flames, taking a good length of the train tracks connecting him with other Iterators down, permanently killing all children and elderly housed in his facilities- the tragedy of it left in the world for the adults coming back the next morning to grieve over. Void Fluid spilled out from his gravity generators and hearts, making the whole place of crash beyond dangerous. The citizens couldn’t even stick around to search the ruins for anything that might’ve been left of their old lives. Unless they wanted to risk involuntary Ascension and potential fates as trapped Echoes, that is.

Inner Compass is still technically alive. Around and around it goes, but also the virtual immortality of Iterators. He survived all thanks to one singular Streak Antiseptic miraculously making it out. Last Orion heard, the little guy is ferried around in the chest pocket of his Admin. That one is going through immense guilt and trying hard to figure out what to do with Compass (and himself) next.

Orion himself isn’t so sure what would be kinder: give Compass another shot at existing even though he’ll have to start with everything (except traits of consciousness) from zero, or just finish the job and let the last soul of the Hivemind move on to the next incarnation as something else. Or a piece of a different Iterator.

And at the time, he couldn’t have given less of shit.

The war began and beneath him the Eo army gathered before they marched on northwards. His Houses voted and changed his wardrobe to be more fitting, inspiring, patriotic- this included searing a war helmet to his puppet’s head. Evidently without the consultation with a Mechanic or consent of his Admin- oh, Five Innovations behind Cedar Doors first had a heart attack about it and then verbally kicked the Houses’ asses. Or so she told him through a call after she came back, crossed arms and pouting like a child.

He attempted to comfort her, after all the two of them are close enough to fall on nicknames, damn right he’s going to try and help, but well… Orion himself was at his wit’s end with it.

Almost three thousand years alive. Three thousand years of the same thing. And even though the puppet often disappointed him with its limits in expression making, having it changed now feels… wrong. He feels different. He doesn’t look *too* bad with it, even Ceda reluctantly agreed through her pissery he’s at least absolutely rocking it, but this was a permanent change.

This helmet is a scar, sealing his head shut when it should not be. And it had yet to show what pain it would carry.

The soldiers hated him for wearing the mark of their torment.

In this world, wars cannot be fought with the idea of killing at forefront. That will not stop the waves, no. Only delay them ‘till the morning.

These people went out there to the battlefield to specifically get crippled. To be taken hostage. And if the enemy was as worried about losing as the comparably smaller Frost’s Promise army, they wouldn’t hesitate much to torture. Anemons can regenerate limbs, fix broken chitin bones incredibly fast. But the mind? The mind can be destroyed beyond repair and there will be nothing to save them from the nightmares, from the shaking hands and manic episodes, being permanently broken.

‘And there he is!’ They used to say, ‘Somewhere safe south from us, giant and untouchable by the suffering, yet still wearing our uniform as if he is one of us and dealing with the same pain.’

The guilt he felt from that managed to rival anything from his long long life. He admitted to Ceda, that he didn’t know how to bear those bitter hateful looks the poor troops shot his Overseers each time he came to the camps for the sake of battle tactic exchanges and new information regarding positioning of the enemy.

Ceda told him, her words heavy as they fell from behind her beak: “Don’t look towards them, then. None of this is your fault. You didn’t don the armor… Someone else shoved you into it, just like someone shoved them into a war.”

“I cannot accept that.” With disbelief he replied, distress within the Hivemind making her watch ping. “I can’t just *leave* it at that.”

“I’m sorry, Ori.” She said weakly, as if the entire war was her fault in the first place. So much pain, even in the relative safety far away from the fights, above the clouds, in his care.

How can one handle this…

Senior Abet Zephyr is of no help when he asks for it. She is angry at all of the Anemons, unjustly- her face pulls into a hateful scowl as she growls out “Good. Let them beat each other to insanity.” through her broken speakers. He feels sick, knowing that someone he looks up to and loves so much could ever say that.

Spore is in this mess with him. She’s more appreciated by the soldiers though, much more. She is their head medic. Her Overseers zip through the medical tents, anxiously taking notes of the supplies on-site and if those things will allow her to save another life, spare it any more suffering. Often, she stretches those things as thin as possible to help everyone. The soldiers know. They don’t fault her for it, when mournfully she says anyone badly injured and with a safe place to wake up in will have to be killed to rather treat the ones capable of faster recovery.

Killing her own patients, when she cares so deeply for each little life… He cannot imagine it.

Asking Disdain is off the table right away. Alongside most of the older Eo Iterators, all that stand in the north. They are too busy with balancing their own issues- shortages of food and resources in particular. The rich demand that their normal life is maintained, the soldiers need the support, prisoners of war are transported to their facilities and they have to be kept alive as well- the working class of the lower circles as a result suffers from exhaustion and famine.

Disdain told him how hellish that is. She wants to lower the resource tax on the lower circle so they could be stronger, able, not be tormented as much, but the high circle refuses to lose its comfort and lower its demand. Or the religious persuasion of the Great Problem. Without the okay from her one lone House, she cannot help them.

“It is like hacking away at my own legs. Incisus needs them to keep standing. I need them to keep functioning to my fullest potential. But my hands are tied, my mouth taped shut.”

Not to mention that apparently her ghost friend has gotten worse with the emotional outbursts because of the overall stress. It’s near constant screaming of rage and plain raw agony, from deep inside of her as if it was her own. Orion wishes there could be anything for him to do to help.

The last drop for him is when one of his Overseers comes back from a routine patrol of Terminus full of grief.

It reconnects with the Hivemind, sharing with all of him what it has seen. Little girl with shaking hands, handling a pearl with a message to a letter carrier, asking to please please make sure to deliver it. She hasn’t heard from dad in too long. She is worried sick he had been taken and won’t ever come back the same.

…what an absolute failure Orion is.

He doesn’t know the child personally. Never probably will. But she is his responsibility, in his care. He is her protector and he’s just standing there, hiding her behind his back as if that is going to keep her safe from fear. He’s a guardian and he isn’t doing *shit* to fulfill that role.

He can’t take it. So he decides to change it.

Without telling Ceda, he sends an Overseer on the journey back to the military camps. He can’t tell her, even though he adores the young small one- her orders are pleas that he cannot deny. He cannot afford her forbidding him from speaking his mind even though she'd meant well.

The general of the Eo army, named A Dagger, Sharpened by a Hook who's tinted with grey thanks to age already, isn’t too happy to see him at first. The soldiers try to chase him away.

But he *begs* them. Tells them he saw the grief, found a worried child’s ID in his files, identified her father as a scout. Orion has sired so many of his own kind- too many to ignore her sad eyes. She was too similar to his own small ones. And scouting is such a dangerous thing to do- please please let him replace the scouts or at least assist. He needs to help. He can’t take it anymore. He is incapable.

The soldiers step away in shock, the general hums in surprised intrigue. His eyes narrow in healthy suspicion- after all, he is the guardian of this army just as much as Orion is the guardian of Terminus. He asks Orion if he’s willing to follow his lead, listen. If such a holy endless thing like an Iterator will submit to one lone fool commanding sin.

And Orion’s Pathway says yes. Promises it on all of his hearts.

The whole Hivemind comes together in unanimous agreement to kneel before the mortal little lone creature, exclaiming that they are willing to be massacred in the name of becoming a single sinning man for this cause. That as the angel that they are seen as, they’d cut their wings for it, tear out their feathers for them to stuff their pillowcases with. They’ll snap their halo, cannibalize their identity until they are reborn more useful.

If it will be needed. If it will be required. Ordered. And not because of code and woven genes, but honest loyalty, every single piece will listen.

From a shell obtaining the potential of a little god to a simple soldier standing in a deathrow. They would fall for the army.

Some step away even further back, horrified at the length his promises reach. He doesn’t blame them- those are dreadful, reckless things he’s said and generally he wouldn’t speak such. Someone of his importance should be too high to be able to fall like this. Someone of his age should know better- and that he does! And yet…

The general takes on a pensive look. Something incredibly serious and blessedly free of a joke or a power trip that an organic could reasonably experience; having a biomechanical divinity bowing at his feet all for a chance at its own suffering. Orion knows some of the soldiers that stood still wouldn’t be quite as honourable. He recognizes the glints in their eyes.

With a nod of his head, the general accepts him. “With your Overseers you shall substitute our scouts. But remember that though you hold this venerable title, it does not carry the respect with it for you. You will have to earn that, strange thing.”

“I understand. Thank you.” A bow and the deal is sealed. He’s one of them now. He’ll earn the respect and the right to wear this damned armor.

In the morning, Orion hails Ceda to his chamber with urgency. She comes in stumbling, hardly fully awake, unused to the antigravity unlike a Mechanic would be. She complains that he didn’t even let her fix herself a morning cup of tea. With a little smile, he apologizes and to make up for the early waking call, he gets to fixing her bed hair.

Ceda lets him, grumbling all along, leaning into his hands far too sleepy to put effort into standing straight.

Orion doesn’t like pulling the “relationship” card- relationships are binding things, no matter their nature. It’s all chains. They carry terms, obligations, expectations when the requested goodness should come naturally- he iterates these things often and came to the conclusion he’d rather purge himself of that. But he does acknowledge the phenomenon of two people simply… harmonizing together. Getting along without the need of the choking idea of a relation, society’s definitions. Letting both participants breathe- just *be.*

Some days Ceda is a friend, some days a pupil. Some days *he’s* the pupil, looking up to her for help. Sometimes she throws an arm over his puppet’s shoulders, as if he was a brother- he replies by pulling her down into a noogie. Sometimes when she visits, she hides into his side like a daughter would with her father and each time he accepts it, sliding into the role seamlessly and holding her gently. He rocked her through her hard times, shushed her softly, let her fall asleep in his arms- no one will ever be too old for the ancient him to ask for these things, he told Ceda when she woke up with her cheek squished against his chassis, embarrassed.

They harmonize well. Which is why he refuses to be dishonest with her.

He shows her all that transpired during the night, explains that he isn’t willing to break this loyalty. That he did this as a person with power over his own life and choices. Don’t take this autonomy away from him.

Ceda stares at the projection of his memory conflicted. “But I’m… responsible for you. This is dangerous- if not physically then definitely for your mental wellbeing!”

“I came to the conclusion that leaving it would not be doing me much good either.” He says, matter of fact, arms hidden behind his back. He looks all business, a sign between them that he’s in the process of outfoxing rules set in by the Houses, the society or even his own blueprints. He tops it all off with the best cheeky expression he can give her. “As my Admin, you certainly have to find this foresight beneficial to your role! This, combined with the idea agreed upon by multiple Iterators that cites Stagnation is just another means of perpetuating a form of the cycle, results in the most obvious conclusion that this is the best case scenario we could have followed.”

She stares at him astounded.

“Don’t worry, shrimp.” He adds with a wink, reverting back to a more fitting tone of voice for who they are with each other. Deeper, with a slight rasp and most importantly: comforting and warm. “I’m not letting anyone take you away from me except if you decided it yourself. I made sure I could get you out of my decision unscathed.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, but worry doesn’t completely leave her face. “I still don’t like this. You’re in danger.”

“There is no path out of this that wouldn’t be dangerous. Either I’d stay passive and hurting, or I’d choose to be active about this in the least. I’d rather take the latter option, Ceda. I am not a particular fan of the concept of getting beaten while comatose.”

“I guess that’s a good point… Just be careful with what you take on out there? I don't know how many heart attacks I can take, man…”

“Says the one with a red lizard for a pet. I’ll try, but I’m no coward!”

And he proves himself as such. Overseers are fast little things, pesky too if their Hivemind tells them to be. With his already dark coloration they even manage to be stealthy and not glow that much.

Ceda joins in with him, too- bypassing his taboos with high importance orders that they discussed together, stuff to let him actually do damage to the enemy Anemons. Another thing she did was upgrading a few of his Overseers specifically for the scouting job. She worked to give them bigger data storage, tendrils that could pierce skin and administer potentially crippling shocks. The low blue light of his eyes became a guiding star for the Eo soldiers if they ever got lost.

Soon enough, his allies found appreciation for him too. Soon enough, Frost’s Promise took note of an Iterator's involvement and persuaded their own Iterators to come into the fights as well. Orion has zapped so many foreign Overseers to an offline state… Racing against his own kind felt different than dodging bullets of an Anemon soldier.

And soon enough, he was forced to face the ugliness of war.

He saw such brutality. So much blood, so many prolonged deaths, heard so many cries for mercy in the shape of a blade. The torture of not knowing if people were going to make it back from a battle. Sometimes, before he explained it, his own begged him to just short circuit their brains to escape the suffering. But he couldn’t. His taboos forbade him from harming his own. He could only watch.

At some point EMP weapons came into the mix. Losing an Overseer in the field kind of hurt because of how much presence he put into them, but it was manageable, not to mention how rare he made the losses. But the gods damned EMPs- one of the biggest attacks with them happened when an enemy snuck into the camp in the night and planted the things around, detonating them all at once.

One moment he’s conversing with his closest comrades by a bonfire, the other he’s fully forced back into his chamber screaming. He was *blinded.* He still could see through Overseers within Terminus, through his puppet, but the panic at being blinded out of nowhere in such a large capacity clouded those other visions.

He’s not even entirely sure when Ceda barged into his software and started artificially calming the Hivemind down. She soothes them, tells him that her watch pinged and then the lights in the city started flickering, some even blew up. His hearts raced, put out too much energy.

Orion apologizes for getting hurt. She rolls her eyes at him and starts giving him shit for it in her native tongue. Her idle salty chatter finally brings him his peace fully and naturally back.

When he gets back to the camp it’s all burned and torn apart. Spore is already there, frantically searching the ruins for anyone still alive or returning from death. He helps her look.

They accumulate quite a few confused souls that were mauled during the whole thing. It was a sneak attack, they told them, some saw the enemy specifically stealing their Overseer eyes along with taking prisoners where they could.

That… didn’t bode well at all. The both of them knew just about everything in the plans of the Eo army, had a lot of it stored in the banks of the Overseers that hadn't managed to return back home to empty them yet. With the enemy having Iterators who ought to be pissed enough at this rate to go against the moral code and do autopsies on their eyes, Frost’s Promise might as well already have large chunks of the plans too.

Spore and Orion share a nervous glance. The Anemons with them indulge themselves in worried silence and fear. Some kick the ground in guilt, muttering something about how they should’ve been awake and done anything to help out.

Who knows what difficulties will await them now?

After an hour, general Dagger marches to the ruins along with still a good sized chunk of the army following behind him. ‘Ordered out a strategic retreat,’ he was saying to an Anemon they sent out to be a look out as he was making his way to them, ‘collected the survivors before coming back to pick up the returnees.’

“General!” “Sir!!!! SIR!!!!!!” Orion and Spore call out, racing to him.

Orion tries to project his puppet in a call as always and report, but Spore beats him to it. “SIR!” Her voice is shrill in panic, eyes unbelievably wide, face pressed against the camera. “Sir they took our eeeeeeeeeEYES…….!!! They carried SENSITIVE information, they know everything, their Iterators have to be prying into us as we SPEAK, I’m so sorryyyyyhhhhhh… we didn't mean to betray youuuuhuhuhhhhh….” If she had tears, he does not doubt at all they’d be streaming down her cheeks in rivulets.

The general considers her, then firmly says: “Hey.”

It snaps Spore out of her fit. She pulls away from the camera into a more proper distance and looks at the general from beneath the brim of her hat. It’s as if she’s expecting to be scolded.

“Calm down, doctor. We will be alright yet.” Recognizing the firm tone was there out of determination and not offense, Spore relaxes, breathes a heavy sigh of both relief and stress. “Things aren’t completely lost, but they will be harder. We will prevail, we will fight on.”

There is not a single tremble in his voice. Orion’s eyes twinkle as he recognizes this steadfastness- finding it so similar to what he knows of Abet Zephyr.

The strength that lies behind the fight for the sake of better days. The fight backed up by truth. Lacking any selfish gains, just seeking the safety of tomorrow. He didn’t really… think Anemons had that in them.

Seeking an escape route by effortlessness. The jellyfish in a net analogy, the Iterators' very existence and all. Their lives are like candles- they burn bright and then run out of wax, having not moved anywhere “in the name of spiritual "progress"”. He considers, if he has just been looking at the wrong group all this time and not the whole. If maybe the jellyfish leaves things too much up to chance, if maybe a skilled little minnow that fights and finds a hole in the net is not safer.

The Anemons are small, finite. Yet seeing the soldiers gather around the general, hands clenched in tight fists, jaws set, unspeakable will to *try* inherent to fully organic things flickering even in the scared eyes… it moves him. It makes him understand. Develop a connection, comprehend their strength.

It fills him with *trust.* And casting a glance to her, the same it does for Spore.

The two of them list things they think their Overseers held when they were taken, general Dagger thanks them as if the plans weren’t leaked because of their mechanical natures in the first place. He works with them to develop new plans, takes suggestions from officers and soldiers alike.

They’ll get through this.

The next few months are a mix of ridiculously hard operations and suspiciously easy ones. Then the enemy somehow managed to get into the Eo group, directly into Spore’s facilities. Apparently a lot of prisoners they caught were sent there to be held. Which is… kind of strange, considering Spore’s place is infested with dangerous mushroom overgrowth that even caused her to be eventually rid of her title as a city bearer. But the strangeness of that didn’t register in anyone’s mind, even his own. They were too preoccupied with readying themselves for stronger waves of attacks. With so many prisoners freed, they would be feeling it on the battlefield.

But nothing came… For almost a month, complete silence.

And then…

The Siege and Capture of Orion’s Pathway takes up a whole chapter in history books all across the Eo group, all the way until the Anemons kept treasuring history. It is written about as a great tragedy, as it should be. Shows passages from diaries of Terminus’ citizens during it to communicate the dread they’ve felt as they were enslaved and hunted.

To Orion himself, the event is a marker. It is when he lost a dearness of his.

He never quite fully understood it before, why Abet Zephyr couldn’t just *be* gentle. Factually he may have, but with his spirits he couldn’t grasp it. Isn’t it easy? Isn’t it natural?

He started understanding when his systems seized in the middle of the night. The hardware mechanics of him simply wouldn’t listen to his will. Someone had to get past his firewalls, he immediately concluded, trying to find the intruder and purge them out. His software came to a halting stop next- it was like being frozen alive.

Still he could somewhat think, through the organic pieces of him. The Hivemind held together strong as an Individuality. They couldn’t move, couldn’t really do much, but they were still whole. They still could’ve alerted Ceda through her watch monitoring their biological functions. …then the hacker decided they won’t allow the Orion’s Pathway Hivemind even that.

Whoever it was knew how to turn an Iterator’s own hardware against it. The tubes, metal, speakers and all, the horrible frequency that came out of them tore all of them apart for the first time in centuries. Just like that, Orion simply couldn’t exist anymore.

The days of the Siege and Capture are all saved within his memory arrays only as muffled matted short videos taken by the lesser eyes of the Hivemind members that succumbed to more animalistic behaviours without the ability to come weave together a superior Individuality. From reports he knows his hearts still beated, but his antigravity generators were out. That meant neuron flies couldn’t do their job at all. Without them, they had no chance to come back together. His flesh started rotting, while his machinery ticked on to someone else’s whim.

They remember a vague sensation of someone prying at their puppet’s chassis, popping it open with brute force. All they knew was the pain of it, of someone sticking dirty hands right in between their organs-

It takes five weeks for a change to happen. So he finds out from outside sources later.

In the fog that is his nonexistence, a Polaris comes alight. It calls out to his components, urges them to come together, gives them a Somewhere they’ll be able to unify. The antigravity came on at some point they couldn’t have noticed.

“Please. Hurry.” The guiding star calls out to them. “Help-,” it begs.

They stitch themselves together with gurgling rage. Reach the light, clumsily take the control they’ve lost from her.

With a start, the consciousness returns into a sore and open puppet. Orion doesn’t have time to really process even that he exists again, much less that he’s apparently airing out his innards and his lenses are covered in fingerprints. There’s sounds of gunshots and sharp blades colliding. In his chamber.

Instinctively he yanks the puppet away from the ground, makes everything in here *stop*.

He traps everyone that is within the room in his grasp, while he attempts to collect his bearings.

There’s silence, a while. He’s sliding between being whole and breaking apart out of stress. It’s giving him a killer headache. His systems ping him that there’s fighting elsewhere in his structure as well, but he can’t give it any piece of his broken mind.

Then there’s the sound of futile struggling. They, he, force their eyes to focus and take in the scene through the fingerprints.

The whole chamber is a mess. It looks like a hastily put together camp with blood stains and damage here and there. Some of the panels are pried off of the walls- he can see his components thrown about, some in the middle of being recycled into different objects. He was being taken apart while still alive, that's- There’s… far too many people in here. Who- Five of them aren’t trying to fight against him, that means- ugh…

“Hey, Ori…” The one unarmored not-struggling one gently calls, waving to him. He feels like he should know her. She’s familiar and registers as crucially important in his systems, but- he can’t comprehend her disheveled hair, bleeding and dirty face. It’s far too complicated. His memory arrays aren’t responding properly- He can’t-

“Kid.” A male, gruff voice speaks up instead. Orion doesn’t have the will to look towards it, blankly staring at a hand that waved to him. “Kid, you did good. Just calm down. Take a moment to gather yourself.”

He’s *trying,* but this damn noise- his speakers spit out too many words at once as he’s unable to collect his mind. It’s even louder than the breathing, sharper and more offensive than clincking of armor. A broken hiss comes out next, he grips his head in agony.

*“Silence!”* The gruff voice snarls out quietly into the room. Some of the struggling ones listen to him and cease, the other three that weren’t putting up a fight against him hum quiet encouragement. He knows those voices, but where from-

And one growls back in challenge loudly. “Why should I, you old hag.”

“Sir, maybe you should- listen- You don’t want a dazed enemy Iterator on your case!”

“You lot have a ton of nerve to speak now.” The first gentle voice speaks again, but shaking terribly this time. Orion doesn’t know who she is, but she is the only confirmed vulnerable thing here. That means she is safe. And if she’s afraid of something, he should be taking note of it.

He barely manages to spot her, as she makes her accusation, glaring at a particularly well clothed one: “You are the one who did this to him. Bastard!”

It’s like flipping a switch…

His head snaps towards this offender, the chamber turns impossibly dark worryingly quickly, as the Hivemind all spills into the puppet in a rush. They bubble with rage and horrible hatred, and now they know who to point it all at.

The halo comes back online, it grows large in intimidation, arcs of electricity bouncing from it to the walls. His hold on all of them tightens.

“Ugh- Admin, what-!”

“Hush! The taboos won’t let him seriously harm us, just be quiet!”

The offender is brought closer. To him, the Iterator only treats him to an ugly hateful glare. But he doesn’t know what goes on inside. The Hivemind simply… can’t decide what to do with him.

‘Let’s skin him,’ some parts say. ‘Make his veins explode, so he may drown his organs with his own blood,’ suggests another.

‘Shove him out of the chamber,’ another purrs. ‘We will take him deep inside of us. Let him get lost within our wires, trap him in our tissues, starve, so he’ll remember how much of a vermin he is compared to us once he awakens again.’

‘Parasite. Parasite!’ ‘Let us all tear him apart… Like vultures…’ ‘What about eating him from the inside?’ ‘Push his face under acid, we say! Make sure he’ll live through it.’ ‘We should digest him. As slowly as we can make it be. He chose to belong to our body the moment he stepped inside.’

“So are you going to do anything or just gawk at me, toaster?” The villain attempts to kick Orion in his open chassis, but thankfully doesn’t manage to reach.

Oh, but the audacity. It angers them enough to stop their ponderings.

With bare hands Orion grabs that man’s head. With the most disgusting twist he can come up with in the moment, he snaps the bastard’s neck. With the crack, a sensation of tension lifts off his shoulders. The head falls limp at an unnatural angle and he feels lost.

“Orion’s Pathway.” The Admin’s voice rings in the silence left after the murder a beat later. “Cease.”

His grip loosens on them and all fall. Nobody starts another ruckus, the enemies left in here surrender and go quietly when the allies bind their hands.

She walks up to him with a visible limp. “Bring your puppet down to me.” He does so, and gladly. The orders feel like a breath of air as he’s fighting against drowning in his own Hivemind, still painfully restless.

Gently she closes their aching chassis. “I’ll treat you after the coast is clear. And…” She looks into his unfocused eyes. “And you’ll be more mentally stable.”

“Will he be alright?” The gruff voice asks. Heavy hand settles on his puppet’s shoulder. He manages to recognize the squeeze as comforting.

“Yes, he should be- it’s just. Going to take a while. I’ll have to call Mechanics to help out, but with the current state of Terminus…” sigh. “It will take a bit until they’ll be able to arrive.”

“Mm. You look after him good ‘till then, in that case.”

“...of course…” her voice is tight.

“I’ll go help out the rest out there. Take the body with me, too.”

“Thank you, General. May the Winds be kind to you.”

“...of course. May they be kind to you as well.”

The general leaves his chamber with a farewell and the body thrown over his shoulder like a bag of fish. The Admin waits for a second, then she pulls him into a hug.

It takes them a few minutes to remember what a hug is and that these are generally reciprocated. Shaking three fingered hands settle on the small of her back and he buries his face into her shoulder as he mourns the death of his hateless life. She embraces him dearly tighter.

Like a son and his mother would.

…

It takes two months for Orion to be able to access all of his functions again, including his Overseers. Though, he still feels… crippled. Something isn’t right with him. There’s poison somewhere within and he can’t rid himself of it.

Ceda loses hours of sleep looking for anything amiss with him that she could fix to make things better. Sometimes she tells him that all that’s left is probably only the emotional trauma of the whole experience, changing him. She even admits he feels colder now. More detached even from her. That makes him feel… not exactly guilty, but definitely like shit. He doesn’t want to be those things.

So she brings into his chamber her blue pet lizard, Procyon, in retaliation against those feelings every time she visits. Even before the war Orion adored the little goof. Getting to hold and caress it now calms him. Procyon was always supposed to be a service lizard, but its trainers most likely never expected that it would one day be supporting the emotional state of a whole ancient Iterator.

The thought makes him let out a little desperate chuckle.

Though he can use his Overseers again and the war is still raging in the north, general Dagger refuses to take him back into the scout service for now.

At least he was allowed to say hi to the soldiers and let them know that yes, he’s still alive and no, he wasn’t completely wiped like an old computer. Don’t worry people, it’s a little more complicated to do that with a whole Iterator than with the desktop back in your home.

His favorite reaction to spotting one of his Overseers up and about came from the group he hung out with the most before the Siege. The same group of three that were in his chamber that day, he found out. They all pointed at him and yelled, one started full on bawling before he booked it to the Overseer waving his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs: “NYURHG VOID BELOW!!! You laggy son of a fridge, you are alive!!!! You looked like a fucking corpse, brother!!”

In retrospect, it’s kind of funny that it is his favorite. Calling upon the Void for naught, being insulted like three times, the explicit implication of a relationship, being praised for being alive even though his primary function is finding a way to inflict permanent mass death upon the whole world. All goes against what he was made to be. The war really did change him, with scars and trust and he can’t deny it.

And when he next calls Boreas’ Blessing to request more weaponry and armor be made for his organic brothers-in-arms, he doesn’t back away from the angry eyes and threatening voice. He’s over it now. Over fear. Doesn’t have time nor patience for it.

Boreas rages against his reflection. And the reflection finally matches him with an equal rabid glare of its own.

#rw #rain world #oc: orion's pathway #oc: boreas' blessing #oc: abet zephyr #oc: filler iterators #oc: cedalion #oc tag #philosophy sessions au #my writing

21 notes · View notes

mogekoakiko · 3 months

Text

Captivity

(The text in English was written with the help of a translator, so I apologize for the errors, I tried to minimize them, but I still apologize. I was inspired by one of the recent answers to questions from @minevn (Kei belongs to them)) THE FANFIC MENTIONS TOPICS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PHYSICAL VIOLENCE, SUICIDAL TOPICS (?), SELF-VIOLENCE "Honey, I'm going to cook dinner, is there anything you'd like-" Before Kei could finish speaking, he managed to notice how a chair flew towards in him, only to fight off the door protecting Kei. With absolute despair, pain and painfully red eyes from daily hysterics, the girl, not sparing her throat, continued to repeat endless screams "EITHER LET ME GO OR GET AWAY YOU BASTARD!!! PIECE OF SHIT!!! SUB-HUMAN TRASH!!! DIE FUCKING PSYCHO!!!…." With an unreadable face, he just sighed "…You should rest. Screaming like that is bad for your ligaments." Before receiving another round of endless insults from the angry girl, the guy locked the door to go to the kitchen. Normally he wouldn't pick her up in her room, but in her condition it was dangerous for both him and her to let her wander around the house in an uncontrollably upset state. At least a week had passed since Akiko began living with Kei, despite the guy’s hopes and all sorts of attempts to calm her down and force the girl to accept a new life, her condition was not getting better. Everyday attempts to kill, harm himself and him, attempts to escape did not stop. Her face was covered with sweat, tears and sebum, her eyes were swollen and painfully red, her hands, despite Kei's close supervision and care, were covered with bruises, scratches and cuts, especially in the veins. Silence and peace came only at that moment when she could not stand it and fell unconscious with only one prayer - not to wake up. There wasn't a day when she didn't want freedom, no matter how she received it, all of Kei care and love was a empty, incessant noise, the room carefully arranged to suit Akiko tastes and needs was no better than prison (perhaps even worse), the illusion of freedom and normality life was torn by daily attempts to kill Kei or escape, but what was the point? Going out into the street, my thoughts were confused and floating: “Where to go?”, “Where am I?”, “Will they believe me?”, “Are they looking for me?”. Despite the girl’s hysteria, years of studying human psychology are bearing fruit; now even the friendship with Haruto, Jun and Aki that has lasted throughout life was now in great doubt. Are they looking for her, do they remember her, did they even notice she was missing? A brief daily viewing of the news fueled her anxiety, not a single news about the girl’s disappearance. They…didn't look for her? Doesn't anyone care about her fate? No one at all? Even Yani?! A new wave of tears filled my eyes, my legs gave way and collapsed to the floor out of helplessness or despair. Maybe he's right? Could he really be the only person who thought about her all the time? Despite the pogrom, attempted murders, hysterics, screams, insults, he still took care of her, tried carefully, treated all her wounds, was kind, affectionate and amazingly patient. M-maybe it would be better to just accept his love and try to start a new life? In the end, she now had everything: a loving “partner”, a spacious home, no work with nasty colleagues, delicious food and everything that a person tired of everything could dream of. With eyes empty from fatigue, legs unsteady, Akiko walked up to the door and, staring at one invisible point, knocked, with heavy sobs, said… "K-Kei?" "Yes, love?" "Can I…Kutia?…please?"

*Kutia(Кутья) is a Slavic dish that is prepared for funerals

*At one point I tried to reference the Japanese criminal Kabu Terayuchi.

#yandere #male yandere #fanfic #mine vn #mine #фанфик #яндере #мужчина яндере #Kei Nakano

12 notes · View notes

bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 3 months

Text

I cannot even describe how much I hate my school.

I hate their policies, their staff- I hate the institution as a whole.

Rant below:

It's a for profit (read: expensive) school that does not deliver anything that is up to par with the price.

The ultrasound lab is tiny, with only 6 ultrasound machines. Two machines are pretty good, one is fine, and the rest are fucking abysmal. They are what is referred to as "non diagnostic", meaning that you'd never use them to scan a patient. The image quality is so low it's like staring at TV static. But I was forced to take my competency (scanning test) on the worst machine in the lab. It was so awful that by the end, I felt like I couldn't see anything because I'd basically been staring at TV static for 45 minutes straight. My teacher even said that the machine sucks and that when you turn the gain (the brightness) up, it only makes the image more fuzzy. But yeah, I was forced to use it on my competency. And I was the only one who had to use that machine! I haven't gotten my grade back yet but I know it will be awful. And if I fail, I will have to do remediation with my teacher where we go over my images and he tells me what's wrong with them. I can already tell you what's wrong with them- the machine is a piece of shit. Also if I fail, I will have to retake it, but I am only allowed a grade of 75. I'm not the type of person to blame my short comings or failures on things outside of myself, but come on...

And when I spoke to my teacher about it after class (privately) he brushed me off. He told me he wouldn’t penalize me for the fuzzy, subpar, low quality images- but that was only half the point. I was trying to communicate to him that the issue was the machine quality + my eyes being completely fried by the tv static appearance + the horrible quality nearly threw me into a panic attack + I was the only one who had to use that machine. But he didn’t listen. And I know that he won’t take what I said (what little I was able to say before he interrupted) into account.

And the rules... oh my god. Your attendance and professionalism are rolled into one grade that is referred to as your "professionalism grade". You can get points deducted for missing class, being late, not having your textbooks, etc. And I have to laugh. Like, I went to an actual university before attending this two year program, and The fucking University of Texas as Austin did not deduct points if a student doesn't have a textbook one day. It's like we're in middle school.

Plus, this whole attendance / professionalism thing is bullshit. They said at the start of the program that if you have to miss class because of an extenuating circumstance, they will understand. But they do not understand. There is zero understanding. My classmate's brother was just murdered. Brutally murdered. She missed class yesterday to attend his memorial, and they gave her a zero for her professionalism. You're telling me that the murder of her brother isn't an extenuating circumstance?

The school as a whole has no empathy or understanding for their students.

One of my teachers also constantly eavesdrops and polices our conversations. Even when we're talking quietly in a small group during break time, she butts in. She makes judgmental comments and has to lecture us at least once a week about how we don't have it that bad. She's one of those "if it was bad for me, it should be bad for you" kind of teachers. She's always like "well when I was in school I was a full time student and working full time and doing clinical full time and I was a full time wife and a full time mother" and I just simply DO. NOT. CARE. She just wants to invalidate us and what we're going through. And she does it at every turn. She's actually done the whole "oh, let me play a song for you on the worlds tiniest violin" bit and she thinks it's sOoOoOo funny. She told a classmate of mine that he "isn't allowed" to say that he's tired when he only got 5 hours of sleep, because she "only ever gets about 2 hours of sleep"- and she says it like it's a flex. Maam, you're gonna be dead and buried at 50 if you dont sleep. Thats not something to brag about. And not sleeping is not going to help us succeed with our academics. This teacher has told us to not sleep and to skip meals in order to study- but doing those things will only make retaining the information harder.

Plus, the teachers know how fucking stressed we are and they don't care. They know the program is really hard in regard to subject matter, but they make it even worse because they are horrible when it comes to scheduling and communication. First semester, we were told we would never have a test the week before finals because it's not fair. But second and third semester, my teacher has casually added another test the week before finals as though it's not a big deal. They're constantly adding and changing test/ quiz dates- and it's never in out favor. Plus, our two teachers always make it so that we have tests / quizzes back to back. We have class Monday through Thursday, but they always choose to put their tests /quizzes on Monday and Tuesday.

Generally speaking, it feels like sabotage after sabotage after sabotage. It feels like they are setting us up to fail. I'm dreading my competency grade. I'm dreading the next two semesters. I'm so miserable.

#chcp

8 notes · View notes

tulipjeanohare · 2 years

Text

Pulling a Houdini

premise: So here's that continuation I'd promised for Hospital Jail Break. Eddie's been broken out of the Hawkins hospital but now comes the hard part. Including one final goodbye we all deserved to see and a little surprise cameo in this part to make right another Duffer wrong from Vol. 2.

pairing: eddie munson x dustin's sister!reader

word count: pairing: 3089

warnings: none

notes: I was going to wrap it all up in this part but I've gotten so inspired I've got more to write for this little group...Eddie's getting out of Hawkins safe and sound if I've got anything to say about it lol Again, let me know what y'all think!

Read Part One Part Three Part Four

“Could you move a little faster,” Steve called back. “We’ve got an extremely short window to get you off this roof and away from this place before someone finds out you’ve pulled a Houdini.”

An exaggerated huff came from behind him, “Harrington I’m not sure you remember where you’re breaking me out of but I wasn’t in that hospital room for fun.”

“Well,” he started to argue back but when he glanced back he got the full scope of how bad the poor guy was still hurting. He remembered the way those bruises from the demobat’s tail felt, the way the bite marks stung beyond belief. “Yeah, yeah I remember but it still doesn’t make the fact that we’re on a tight deadline any less relevant.”

There was no more protest from Eddie but Steve could still hear him mumbling under his breath as he followed closely behind him. The two were hunched down enough that no one below could see them making their way across the roof to the rickety fire escape on the back end of the building. Every once in a while the walkie talkie Dustin had forced Steve to carry would crackle with static making one of them jump.

It wasn't a massive hospital by any means but when you’re trying to sneak an accused serial killer out of it it sure felt like a mansion. Steve could’ve sworn they’d been up there for 30 minutes before he finally reached the ledge again, his finger hovering over the button of his walkie before turning to look at Eddie. “We gotta get down this then around the corner to the car,” he explained. “I wasn’t really expecting you to still be this messed up when Henderson cooked up this plan, it was a pain in the ass for me to get up here and I’d say I’m in a lot better condition than you.”

“Gee man, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Eddie said flatly, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet to get a better look over the ledge. “It’s not like I wasn’t the nurses’ favorite patient in there, they really loved coming in to give me more pain meds. You know, the town murderer.”

Steve could have kicked himself in the ass at this point, “shit, Munson, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just- this isn’t going to be easy because I don’t think they’ve fixed this particular part of the hospital since it was built.”

“Uuh Steve,” Robin’s voice came over the walkie talkie. “I think we gotta speed up this little adventure…a very important looking cop car just pulled into the lot.”

The two on the roof turned to each other in panic mode before answering, “Robin, cool your jets, we're on our way down now…you can’t rush the process.”

“I can when we’re all risking jail time,” she squeaked.

Before Steve could answer another voice came through, “just make it snappy, Dustin is losing his mind down here and I don’t have the heart to tell him his idol got re-arrested along with his babysitter,” you finished.

Without another word Steve gave Eddie the direction to follow his lead down the fire escape and they started their descent. And Steve hadn’t been kidding about what a piece of shit the thing was. It swayed here and there as the two of them made their way down it at a snail’s pace thanks to just how many rungs and steps were missing from it. God forbid there was ever an actual fire emergency at this place, there’s no way anyone would make it down this thing alive.

By the time they were nearing the bottom Eddie could hear a very familiar bickering coming from just below them. It sounded like you were less than excited with your little brother and he didn’t really seem to care all that much, he was too worried about making sure his friend got down in one piece. “You know, I’m not sure but I don’t think we’re supposed to be drawing a crowd, right Harrington,” Eddie spoke through gritted teeth.

“Damn it Dustin,” Steve grumbled, taking the last rung of the ladder before jumping down right in front of you. “I told you all to stay by the car, I’ve got this under control.”

And just like some kind of sick cosmic joke Eddie’s foot slipped and almost sent him falling a few feet earlier than he needed to. Your eyes darted from where he clung tightly, a desperate laugh coming from him, then to Steve. “Oh yeah, there’s nothing to worry about here.”

“He’s fine,” his voice cracked. “Look, take the kid back to the car and get ready to hightail it out of here.”

Looking up for a little reassurance you received an extremely nervous smile followed up by a thumbs up, “all good up here!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at just how annoyed he sounded even though he was trying his best to make sure Dustin wasn’t worried. One hand on your little brother’s shoulder and you guided him away from the scene of the escape and back to the getaway car.

By the time you reached the back of the parking lot Robin was pacing from the front end of the car to the back, mumbling something to herself, and Nancy looked about ready to strangle her. Then there was Max leaned up against the back door bruised and bandaged but still in one piece, sort of. “They should be right behind us, let's get everyone in the car, quickly,” you urged.

The next few minutes felt like hours as you waited as patiently as possible only to see that mangy head of hair flying around the corner of the big brick building followed by Steve yelling for someone to start the car.

You exchanged a look with Nancy before she dove into the front seat and turned the key twice in the ignition before it started. A loud voice rang from behind them before you saw the gangly cop chasing after the two barreling towards you. Steve made his way to the driver’s seat, pushing Nancy to the middle of him and Robin while you shoved Eddie onto the floor of the backseat before folding yourself up onto the seat next to Dustin and Max.

Every single person in the car was yelling for Steve to step on it, including you because now the cop had backup and they were approaching the car at an increasingly fast pace. Steve cranked the gear shift into drive tossing everyone back in their seats as he pressed the pedal completely flat to the floor.

“You can let me out now and save yourselves,” Eddie yelled from the floor, his face level with the toes of your shoes.

Max scoffed, kicking at his feet shoved up next to hers, “fat chance, we all escaped Vecna and you think we’re going to wuss out over a few cops?”

“She’s got a point,” you grinned. “We didn’t pull your sorry ass out of the upside down for nothing!”

The chase hadn’t lasted long seeing as, at some point, Max had snuck off and flattened a few tires on the police cars. There’s only so far a couple of Hawkins, Indiana cops could chase a car on foot. And it didn’t seem anyone in town had been alerted to the breach of security at the hospital yet either. Steve slowed to a normal pace once he’d gotten far enough from the hospital to not draw any further suspicion.

Resting your head back on the seat you finally took a second to take a breath, this wasn’t the end of this little ruse but it was one of the more nerve wracking parts. There was always time to worry about the rest of the plan later now you could revel in actually getting Eddie out of police custody safe and sound. The orange and yellow leaves still clinging to the trees lining the road passed quickly by as the car quieted down from all the excitement.

There was just one more small step in the grand plan before actually getting Eddie out of Hawkins. It was a step that you found inherently necessary but had to convince Steve and Robin of the benefit. They’d wanted to get him out of town as quickly as humanly possible but Nancy had been in your corner, the next step in the plan was just as important as any other part of it.

The car wound around the long roads on the outskirts of town until you neared the next stop on your mission. The sound of the gravel crunching under the tires of the car made the moment feel more ominous than it should. Your eyes darted around the thick line of trees as Steve drove on making sure there wasn’t someone sneaking around out there, someone who might see one of you and ruin this entire scheme. Dustin had been squirming in the seat next to you the entire drive from the hospital and you were just getting ready to yell at him when you felt the smallest of taps on the toe of your boot. Looking down at where Eddie had stowed himself away you cocked an eyebrow, “y’alright?”

“Where…exactly are we,” he asked, worry evident in those big eyes of his.

You looked from Steve’s eyes in the rearview mirror and back before answering, “it’s a surprise but, well, we’re just about to that wooded area behind the school. We had to take the scenic route.”

“Wha-what,” he almost squeaked. “Why the hell are you taking me anywhere near that place?!”

A full round of ‘sush’es sounded from everyone in the car at the rise in his tone, “Eddie, seriously trust us! We know what we’re doing,” Robin called out from the front seat.

“Do we,” Steve questioned, finally slowing the car to a stop.

Your eyes went back to Eddie to give him a sympathetic look, “we do know what we’re doing…for the most part.”

As easily as you could, you slid out of the back of the car, turned to grab hold of Eddie's forearm and pulled him out as easily as you could with the way he’d stuffed himself in there. Before he could steady himself Dustin came jumping out behind him causing him to lose his balance just enough to stumble right into you.

“Whoa there big guy,” you giggled, the worry leaking out of you just enough to relax for a split second, simply from the way his large hands gripped your shoulders to steady himself.

Those big doe eyes softened a bit as he looked down at you, “watch it, Henderson.”

And for just a few more moments the two of you stood there, stuck. It was like that small moment shielded you, for the time being, from everything crumbling to shit around you. You felt his thumbs gently rub the spot they lingered at before your little brother yanked him away behind him.

“Sooo,” the redhead that slid out behind Dustin finally spoke, drawing out the word in anticipation of you inferring what she was trying to insinuate. “You and Eddie…”

You squint your eyes at her, her left arm still in a massive cast and held tightly to her chest by the hospital sling, “Max, please get back in the car…I’m starting to think maybe Vecna did more than snap your arm.”

A huff and roll of her eyes and she was jumping back into the car, those headphones secured back to her head.

The familiar rambling of your little brother was just ahead of you when you turned to catch back up with Eddie and Dustin. Your boots snapped twigs beneath them as you came up behind the two causing Eddie to freeze in his tracks. “It’s just me,” you called out. “I thought maybe I should walk you the rest of the way…that way Dustin can keep watch for anyone who might be sneaking around out here.”

Dustin opened his mouth to protest but you quickly shoved him along a few steps to where he could still see the parked car down the hill. “Anything suspicious, give me the signal.”

He begrudgingly nodded and shuffled back down the hill a little ways until he had a good view of both you and the road.

And for a few more moments you and Eddie walked silently side by side until you came to the designated clearing. It was open and quiet where the two of you stood, the sun peeking down through the falling foliage creating an almost idyllic scene for the occasion.

You could see from the corner of your eyes that Eddie was kicking at the thick clumps of leaves at his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Eddie,” you finally broke the silence.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, his eyes still glued to the ground.

One deep breath and you started the little speech you’d practiced in your head the entire car ride up here. “Uhm, well, I know that everything is kind of turned to shit right now for you and you’re, like, an escaped criminal. And I thought since that one was on us maybe we should let you have one last goodbye. I know…”

His gaze quickly turned from the fascinating leaves on the ground to you in an instant, “wh-who?”

As if on cue Eddie’s Uncle Wayne stepped out from the line of trees, clearing his throat to bring his nephew’s attention to him. It almost broke your heart to see the look of desperation on Eddie’s face. The guy the entire town had officially pegged as a satanic serial killer broken by just the sound of his uncle’s voice.

You didn’t need to say anything else, you just stepped back and let the two close the space between them. It was a rush to reach one another and then like they hit an invisible wall when they were face to face. Like that unwritten rule of ‘manliness’ blocked them from the embrace that was hanging in the air. Both of the men opened their mouths to speak but then couldn’t quite get the words right until finally Wayne was able to break the silence.

“Hey kid,” his voice cracked.

In a flash Eddie flung his arms around his uncle and pulled him in for the most desperate hug you’d ever seen. Their big bodies clashed together with a thud, Wayne cupping the back of Eddie’s head so gently it was like he might’ve been holding toddler sized Eddie like he had all those years ago.

Your eyes went to where Eddie’s fingers were digging into his uncle’s shoulder blades, the tips going white from the pressure. It felt wrong to watch this. Such a private moment between them. So, you turned yourself around so you were staring at one of the trees in the distance. A tear fell down your cheek before you could wipe it away, leaving your skin streaked in its image. The actual escape from the hospital wasn’t the part of the plan that you’d been worrying about. It had been this. Nancy had told you how sure Wayne had been about Eddie, about how he refused to believe his nephew could ever even think of something as vile as what had happened to Chrissy Cunningham.

“I’m so sorry, Wayne,” you could hear Eddie whisper, his teeth clearly gritted together trying to stop the sob in his throat. “I fucked everything up.”

A deep grunt, then shuffling came from behind you as Wayne pulled back from his nephew and took his face in his hands, “you didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done, Eddie. These people have always looked at you like you were a monster but I know who you are. Your friends, they know who you are. Get out of Hawkins and never look back, promise me that.”

“I-I can’t just leave you like that,” he argued, his grip tight on his uncle’s arms as they stood in an embrace.

Wayne pulled him in quickly for one more hug, his calloused hand grabbing a hold of that familiar mess of curls at the nape of his neck one last time, “Eddie, I love you like my own kid but you’ve gotta go. Save yourself from this place and the brainwashed people in it.”

Through bleary eyes you could see Steve and Robin sitting in the front seat of the car impatiently trying to see what was taking so long, Nancy’s head poking out from between them. On your right was Dustin kicking at the stump of an old tree long since chopped down. He was mumbling something under his breath and his cheeks looked as flushed as yours felt right now. You gave the two one last fleeting moment together before wiping the tears away from your eyes and turning back to them. “Sorry to break this up but, uh, we should probably get going before anyone happens to see us,” you announced, your eyes finally catching sight of the two for the first time since you’d turned around.

Eddie’s bottom lip was still quivering from trying to stop himself from fully breaking down and Wayne’s eyes were red and puffy, his hand still resting on one of Eddie’s shoulders to give him a reassuring squeeze before pushing him towards you. “Take care of him for me,” he looked at you now.

“I think I can handle that,” you forced a smile, the lump in your throat unbearable.

And just like that the moment was over and the older man was walking back into the tree line where he’d come from. A soft sniffle came from beside you as the two of you fell back into step together, “thank you,” he whispered.

There was so much you wanted to say to him. You wanted to promise him that he’d get to see his uncle again, soon. You wanted to promise him that everything would turn out alright. But you couldn’t do that, not truthfully at least. So you settled for a simple smile before giving his hand a quick squeeze of reassurance.

“The next part of your little plan better not include anymore crying,” Eddie announced loudly into the open air. “I think we’ve all had enough of that shit.”

Dustin laughed as he joined the two of you carefully shuffling down the hill, “all we have left to do is cross state lines.”

230 notes · View notes

endlesslystarlitskies · 1 year

Text

Lost and Found- Part 11

,296A/N: Hey guys, here’s the next part! Unfortunately my friend got really busy and wasn’t able to beta read the story within a reasonable time phrase, so I’m going to be honest and say these next few chapters have me really nervous. I just worry about the pacing and if everything is moving too quickly. At the same time, I don’t want things to be repetitive and boring. Hopefully they’re okay. Thanks for being so patient guys!

Genre: Horror, Action, Adventure, Romance, Slow-Burn,

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned

Word Count: 9,296

Part 10 Part 12 Story Masterlist

xXx

Ella was starting to worry more as the time ticked by, but after a few more minutes, the sound of the gated door above them opening echoed through the room, both Ella and Leon getting to their feet.

Relief washed through Ella as Ashley came out into view, seeming uninjured. Ella had no idea how they would have gotten out of this cage if Ashley had been captured, and now Ella didn’t have to find out.

“Leon, Ella!” She called, happy to see that they were okay as well.

“Ashley! Are you alright?” Leon asked first and foremost, having been just as worried as Ella, even if he was better at hiding it.

“Yeah! Give me a sec, I’ll get you guys out.” She looked to the lever, walking over and trying to move the dead body off of it. As she did, something fell out of his robe. A key!

“Hey, try this!” She tossed the key down, Leon catching it before looking back up at her.

“Can you make it down? I can catch you?” Ella was just ready for him to open the door so they could get to her, but her getting down was definitely a big part of that, so Ella waited as patiently as she possibly could.

“Yeah, I think so!” Ashley nodded, and Leon moved to unlock the door, Ella right behind him. However, Ella spun around when she heard Ashley scream, her eyes widening as she took in the large robed creature grabbing ahold of the young girl.

“Ashey!” She shouted, unable to do anything as the thing carried her away. There was no quick way up to the balcony, which meant there was no quick way to Ashley. Leon tried firing shots at it, but it had no effect, the thing stopping for only a moment to look at him with its glowing orange eyes, before turning back around and disappearing.

“Shit!” Leon cursed, Ella gritting her teeth in frustration, ignoring the pain it brought her jaw. They had been so close! She had been right there! At least Ella knew they wouldn’t kill Ashley. There was still time to get her back. It wasn’t over yet. Ella took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down as she reminded herself of that over and over. Ashley would be okay. Ella wouldn’t fail her too.

“Just wait for us Ashley, we’re coming.” She murmured to herself. She didn’t know how much time they had left for either Ashley or Leon, but they would figure this out, and get that damned medicine from Luis. Ella was brought from her thoughts when Leon’s comms beeped, and she stepped forward to listen. An unfamiliar female voice sounded through the ear piece, her brow furrowing.

“Ada?” So that was her name. Ella thought the name was pretty, but she couldn’t help but wonder who she was. The question left her mind for the moment at her tip, the two of them now having an idea where to go, and Ada hung up soon after that.

“Hey, Ada? Ada!” Leon sighed. “Perfect.” Ella looked to him, hearing something behind his tone.

“Who’s Ada?” She questioned curiously as they got outside the cage, and Leon looked to her.

“She’s a mercenary I met in Raccoon City.” The way he said mercenary stuck out to her, but Ella was confused about something else. What would a mercenary be doing here?

“What does she want?” Ella voiced her question out loud, as Leon clearly knew her and might have an idea as to what she was here for.

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, we should probably keep her from getting it.” He told her, giving Ella the idea that he didn’t trust Ada one bit. Ella supposed that was fair considering the woman’s occupation, but it felt like it was more than that. Ella studied him a moment, noticing he was frowning more than usual after the call. He noticed her looking at him.

“What?” His tone confirmed it, as it was one of a man who’s pride was hurt, and the realization crossed Ella’s features.

“She tricked you didn’t she? In Raccoon city?” Ella was guessing, but Leon’s reaction told her all she needed to know as the man looked away from her quickly.

“It doesn’t matter. The point is she can’t be trusted.” The response was vague and it avoided the question, Ella figuring that Ada must have done a number on poor 21 year old Leon.

“Of course she can’t. She’s a mercenary. They’re usually big on money and not much else.” Ella chuckled as they moved forward, intentionally avoiding Leon’s light glare.

She quickly gathered that it was a touchy subject for him despite it being six years ago, and she would do well to avoid the topic moving forward, even if she was really curious as to what happened.

xXx

They made their way towards the throne room, dealing with more knights and puzzles, and the most disgusting bug looking creatures Ella had ever seen (Ella hated bugs), before they made it outside, where the annoying voice of Ramon greeted them. Well, Leon. He still ignored Ella’s existence while simultaneously trying his hardest to kill her.

“Oh Mr. Kennedy, not much of a knight, are you?” Ella found herself mentally pleading with Ramon to not compare Leon to a knight right now. She’s had her fill of those for a lifetime. “Your princess is a. . .Spirited individual.” Ella perked up at the mention of Ashley. “I must say, she gave us a considerable amount of trouble!” Ella hoped she continued to do so long enough for them to get there. They were close, and Ella was ready to get Ashley back and shut Powder Puff up for good.

Getting the drawbridge down, they got the doors across from it open, being greeted by some cult members and two of the scariest looking monsters Ella had seen yet- and that was saying something.

“Great. There’s two of them.” Them? Ella wondered if Leon had faced these things before, though she was sure she would recognize them if he had unless it happened while she was with Ashley.

Ella tried to get a good look at the creatures, before noticing the long razor sharp claws, recognition hitting her. They were the same thing that he faced after falling through the wood. Ella had barely gotten a look at it at the time, but she recognized those claws. At least that meant they were killable.

The cultists ran forward, and Ella and Leon began taking them down, before the sounds of chains breaking drew their attention, and suddenly one of the monsters was running toward her. Ella ran to the side, narrowly avoiding the swinging claws as her heart pounded with fear. These guys were straight out of a horror movie, and while that could be said about everything they had encountered thus far, there was just something about these creatures that made Ella want to run and hide.

“They can’t see you! They rely on sound!” Leon shouted, simultaneously drawing the creature's attention away from her and letting her know how to handle them. He must have noticed that she had practically frozen in fear, and she was grateful for him, because it had been a minute since she had been that scared by one of the horrors they faced, and the monster not being focused on her helped her take a moment to breathe and reign in her fear.

Once she had steeled herself, she moved quietly, going around the wall before noticing the large bell by the gate they needed to go through. Knowing that they relied on their sound, it was the perfect object to help direct these guys the way she wanted.

She shot the golden instrument, the loud sound and vibration seeming to disorient the creatures as they swung around at nothing, giving Leon the perfect opportunity to shoot one of them in the back where the parasite was. Ella moved, following his lead and doing the same to the other one, who was much closer to her. It didn’t take long for it to charge, but Ella shot the bell again, before moving out of the way.

Eventually Ella got the genius idea to have the creature take out the cult members for them, and when a few members were right in front of her, she shouted and quickly moved away so she wasn’t in the creature's line of fury.

Predictably, one of the creatures came barreling towards the noise, hitting the cult members and making quick work of them, saving Leon and Ella some ammo. Repeating the actions with the bell helped Ella and Leon get shots on the parasites coming out the monsters backs, and soon, they fell to the ground dead, having taken all of the cultists along with them.

Ella and Leon both took a moment to gather themselves and reload their weapons.

“Those gave me the creeps unlike anything else. . .” She admitted to Leon, a bit embarrassed that she had almost frozen in fear. She thought she was past that, but no matter what horrors this place threw out her, there always seemed to be something worse waiting ahead.

“You seem to have handled yourself just fine.” She looked to see him giving her a half smile, and she felt her cheeks warm slightly. She appreciated his compliment and assurance, her embarrassment fading as she reminded herself that despite her fear, she had taken one down. She didn’t know if he did it on purpose, but Ella was quickly realizing that Leon was good at comforting others in his own way.

The gate required two unicorn horns in order to be opened, and fortunately, or unfortunately if you asked Ella, the creatures had them on them, Ella grimacing as she cautiously grabbed one from the monster she killed as if it would spring to life suddenly.

That didn’t happen, and she moved to the statues with Leon to put them in their rightful places. The gate raised, giving them access to the large ornate doors to the throne room. The two shared a look, Ella nodding to say she was ready, before they moved to open them.

“Nooo! No!” The two heard Ashley scream from the inside, panic filling Ella as she picked up her pace, her and Leon pushing the doors open with their guns drawn.

Ramon was sitting on the throne with his legs crossed, a drink in hand, and Ella took in the two cultists holding Ashley and forcing her into a kneeling position, that damned symbol painted on her face. A now familiar rage filled Ella as both her and Leon ran forward, preparing to attack the men holding her.

“Stop! No! Don’t come any closer!” Leon and Ella halted, and Ella grit her teeth, desperately wanting to go to her and get those men off of her. She took in the hole in front of her, seeing that it was deep, only blackness visible. She had no idea how long the drop would be, but she really didn’t want to find out, taking a step back as she focused back on Ashley.

“Are you hurt?” Leon asked, but just as he did, Ashley looked at something above him.

“Watch out!” Ella could barely get a good look at the red robed guard that landed on Leon before a strange arm shot out, slamming into her and sending her flying into the stone wall to the side. She dropped her gun, crumpling to the floor as she tried to push away the disorientation and pain that had blossomed throughout her body.

“Please, continue.” Ashley’s crying and begging echoed in Ella’s ears, and she weakly raised her head, watching as a robed man brought over a large chalice that had black liquid sloshing within it.

Ella moved to reach for her gun as she got to her knees, needing to do something and refusing to let the pain stop her. However, the other red robed creature appeared, forcing her back down as she let out a grunt at the pressure holding her to the stone floor. These things were unbelievably strong, and whatever they used to hold them down covered Ella’s entire torso, making it impossible for her to get up.

“Do not resist, my dear. It serves only to make your suffering all the worse.” The men chanted as the two holding her forced her mouth open, and Ella watched in horror as they poured the liquid down her throat, helpless to do anything. Ashley coughed as the men released her, the remaining liquid spilling out of her mouth as she put a hand to her stomach. The dark veins suddenly became much more apparent on Ashley’s skin, Ella’s eyes widening as she watched them spread up the young girl's arms, neck and face, and Ella immediately realized the liquid must have sped up the process of the Plaga’s hold on her. However, Ella’s attention was stolen as Leon grunted, struggling in the thing holding him’s grasp as it raised him above the large hole in the floor. Ella felt her heart drop into her stomach as she realized what was about to happen.

“Leon!” She shouted, trying to struggle, but it was no use, the thing only pressing her down harder. Ramon spoke in Spanish, and in the next second, before Ella could even blink, the thing threw Leon into the hole.

“NO!” Her heart twisted violently in her chest as Leon disappeared from her sight, Ashley crawling to the edge with a scream of his name. Silence fell over the room for a moment, Ella’s eyes never leaving the hole as she tried to process what just happened. There was no way Leon had just. . .

Ella’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what might have just occurred, an overwhelming sense of dread and heartbreak swirling within her. She was snapped out of it when the thing suddenly lifted her, and she wondered for the first time if she was also going to be tossed into the hole behind him. However, the thing brought her closer to Ramon, who looked at her with disdain.

“You should have never been allowed to live.” He tsk’d. “However, it seems that mistake will now be amended. As much as I wish to kill you now, Lord Saddler believes it would be fitting to have the girl do it when she finally submits herself to the gift instead. A testament that she is finally ours.” Ella’s brows furrowed in confusion, not understanding why they wouldn’t just kill her now. It looked like Ramon was considering it as he watched her closely. The thing holding her let her go enough so the cultists could take all of her gear, though Ella was able to hide something under her flannel shirt. The men moved to grab the two grenades at her waist, managing to grab one just before Ramon continued.

“But perhaps we could tell Lord Saddler that you resisted, giving us no choice but to kill you.” Ella knew that was her cue as she revealed the flash grenade she had grabbed without the cultists knowing, pulling the pin and dropping it between them.

“Ashley, cover your eyes!” She shouted, following her own advice as the bright light went off. Saved from the effects, Ella moved quickly, kicking the cultists holding Ashley off of her before taking her hand and pulling her along with her to the door.

Ashley was sluggish and weak, but she did her best to follow Ella as the girl practically slammed into the doors to open them quickly. Ella was running on autopilot at the moment, having no real plan except getting Ashley the hell out of there.

Cultists were running after them, and with how slow Ashley was moving, it was hard to not keep the distance from closing little by little, Ella getting to the next door after avoiding the dead bodies on the ground.

“Ella stop-” Ashley breathed, panting as Ella got the door open. Ella looked back at the girl incredulously, not understanding how she could be asking her to stop when the cultists were practically right behind them. “I can’t. . I’m too slow and weak. You have to go without me.” Ella couldn’t believe what she was hearing, immediately shaking her head to tell her there was no way she was doing that. Before she could even open her mouth, Ashley spoke first.. “Ella, they’ll kill you! At least if you run you can come find me later. Please-” She tried to reason with her, turning to see the cultists about to close the gap.

Ella knew she was right. They wouldn’t kill Ashley, but if Ramon was hesitating to kill Ella before, she had just given him the perfect reason to do it now. But how could she just leave Ashley? It felt so wrong, and Ella didn’t know if she could do it. However, Ashley didn’t give her a choice as she used what little strength she had to shove Ella out of the door.

“Go!” She shouted, before leaning her body against the wood and closing it behind her, giving Ella no time to react. Ella was left standing there, staring at the doors as she heard Ashley’s yelp of fear, Ella knowing they had just grabbed her.

Guilt had already been swirling inside her, along with many other emotions, but it increased tenfold, Ella’s breathing becoming shaky and uneven as she tried to process everything that had just happened in her head. It had all happened so fast. . .how had so much changed in the matter of minutes? A large weight inside her threatened to pull Ella down, but she knew that if she didn’t get moving, Ashley’s actions would be in vain. Ella’s jaw set as she forced herself to turn away from the door and run across the stone she and Leon had been at not even an hour ago, the thought of the blonde causing a lump to form in her throat.

Getting to the other side, she ran through the still open gate and into the large and partially destroyed room she and Leon faced the swarm of flying bugs, hearing cultists shout behind her and realizing they were coming after her once more.

She cursed under her breath, picking up her pace as she ran up the steps and to the door they had unlocked from the inside, squeezing through and wasting no time as she ran down the corridor.

She ended up going into the library where she and Leon had fought off more knights while going after Ashley, crawling into a small crevice in the bookshelves to hide as she pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to quiet her breathing.

The cultists hadn’t been far behind her, and she could hear them shouting in Spanish outside the library. It only took a few moments before the door opened, and Ella held her breath as the sound of footsteps entered the room. Light from the cultists' torches filled the room, and Ella pulled herself further into the small nook she was in, holding her knees to her chest and praying she wouldn’t be found.

It took about five minutes, but eventually the handful of men who had come into the room left, the door shutting behind them as silence filled the room.

Ella gave it a few more minutes to be safe, but when no other sound could be heard, she released the breath she had been holding, it immediately being followed by a sob before Ella slapped a hand over her mouth once more.

She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to feel helpless. She didn’t want to feel her heart shattering in her chest again at the realization she had lost someone else. There was no way Leon had survived that fall. . .they wouldn’t have thrown him down there if they believed he could survive it after all.

That meant that just like Alice, Ella had failed in saving Leon. And now all Ashley had left was her. Self-loathing filled Ella’s thoughts again as she berated herself mentally. She wasn’t Leon. She wasn’t a trained agent. She didn’t have his connections. She didn’t even have her weapons on her anymore. She had a single grenade, which could only do so much assuming she used it properly. She had no real way to defend herself except her limited self-defense knowledge, which had failed her twice already.

How was she supposed to save Ashley?

She remembered Ashley’s words just before she shut the door on Ella. Ashley had told her to come after her. She was relying on Ella. Despite knowing that, all Ella could feel was hopelessness and self doubt, seemingly unable to pick herself up this time.

The sound of clicking echoed throughout the library, Ella’s eyes widening as she once again held her breath. There was someone else in this room. But how? Ella hadn’t heard anyone come in? And what was that sound? It almost sounded like heels. That was confirmed when a pair of black boots appeared in front the nook Ella was hiding, and Ella’s heart pounded loudly in her chest as she waited for whoever was standing there to say or do anything. She flinched when a gloved hand appeared, though it was being held out to her in offer.

Ella’s brows furrowed, her eyes taking in the unfamiliar hand. There were no visible veins along the smooth skin that Ella could see, telling Ella that the person it was attached to wasn’t infected. Cautiously, Ella took the hand, letting the unknown person help her out of the nook. Soon, Ella was face to face with a gorgeous black haired woman, though Ella didn’t recognize her even remotely.

“Who-” She had tried to ask, but the woman was quick to cut her off.

“The name’s Ada. I’m sure you’ve heard of me?” Ada. . .She was the mercenary that Leon had met in Raccoon City. Ella took her in for a moment, having not expected to meet the woman on her journey. Especially not like this.

“Y-Yeah. Leon-” She had to swallow the lump in her throat. “He told me about you. Briefly.” She wondered if Ada knew what happened to him, and if she should tell her. The two had a past after all, and Leon’s reaction to her suggested there was more behind their relationship.

“Good. Keep your chin up, okay?” Ella was brought from her thoughts at Ada’s words, focusing back on the woman who was giving her a small smile. “And don’t worry about Leon. Trust me, he’s lived through much worse.” The complete certainty in her voice made Ella stop, the slightest bit of hope pushing its way through the flurry of negative emotions still inside her. “You’ll actually be good for him, unlike me.” That last part was murmured under the woman’s breath, but Ella had heard it, though she didn’t understand what she meant. Before she could ask, Ada pulled a combat knife out from behind her, holding it out for Ella. “Take this, and stay alive. You’ve managed to do that this far, so you might as well keep going.” Ada’s tone was almost dismissive, as if she was putting up a front, but considering what she was currently doing for Ella, she knew better than to believe it.

Ada didn’t have to be here, giving Ella hope and a way to defend herself, but she was. And Ella appreciated it more than Ada could ever possibly know as she took the knife from the woman, nodding in agreement. Ada seemed satisfied with that, and in the next moment, she moved towards the windows of the library, Ella only realizing then that one of them was open. Ada climbed onto the ledge, turning to her once more and shooting her a wink, before using a grappling gun and disappearing from Ella’s sight.

Ella was left standing there, still a bit surprised about the interaction. She didn’t fully understand it, but she did know that Ada had just saved her from herself, and that was something Ella wasn’t sure she’d get the chance to repay the woman for.

Looking at the knife in her hand, she steeled her resolve. Ada had clearly known what happened to Leon, and she hadn’t been the least bit worried about him. Ella didn’t know if she knew something Ella didn’t, but either way, Ella would hold on to the tiny bit of hope within her that Leon was okay, it being just enough to keep the fear of having lost him at bay for the time being.

Ella thought about her next move, knowing that all she could do was try to find Ashley, and hopefully run into Leon. If he was alive, he was already doing that himself, afterall.

xXx

Ella had nothing to go off of where Ashley had been taken, and she was operating blind. Not only that, but one of those creatures in the red robes that had been behind Ramon were walking about, presumably looking for her. Ella had noticed early on that it made a chittering sound, and that helped her keep away from it and out of sight, as it alerted her that it was near.

She did not want to face off against it, as they were far too strong for her to take on, especially with just a knife and a grenade. She had wanted to go back to the throne room and see if she could find her gear, but that path was heavily guarded, Ramon probably assuming she would try that exact thing, and it was too much of a risk. She knew the throne room was a dead end, so there was no other reason to risk going back to it.

That left her wandering about the castle, looking for any signs of Ashley and dealing with the cultists that were patrolling the area as well with just her stealth skills, combat knife, and a single grenade she couldn’t use. Ella had gotten used to sneaking about in the woods, but the castle was a different terrain, and it was a challenge for her to keep out of sight. She had to engage with cultists every now and then, but she made sure to keep it stealthy, sneaking up behind them and stabbing them in the throat before laying them down and out of sight. She only did this when she needed to check a pathway for signs of Ashley or a way forward, as she didn’t want to risk being seen too often. She knew if she did, her luck would eventually run out, and she couldn't help Ashley if she was dead.

A couple of hours later, it felt like Ella had looked everywhere. Every pathway forward ended in a dead end, and there were cultists still patrolling about.

At least the chittering creature had disappeared after a bit, though Ella didn’t know if she should be relieved or concerned, being on high alert just in case as she found a place to rest and think about her next move. If she kept wandering around with no direction, she was going to get caught. Considering their numbers were falling, they had to know she was skulking about by now, and they would be even more on guard. She needed a better game plan.

She looked at her hands, flexing the sore muscles in them. Stabbing people over and over again wasn’t easy, and her hand had cramped up a few times. She found herself wondering if having Leon’s fingerless gloves would help, and wishing the Merchant had some for sale, however she quickly returned her thinking to her next move.

Ella only thought about Leon in bits and pieces, unable to do so for too long lest she fall down the rabbit hole of worrying he was dead and what that could mean. There was still a heavy weight in her chest, and if she acknowledged it too much, it may just drag her down.

She took in a deep breath, instead thinking about the creatures with the glowing orange eyes. Why had it disappeared? Where could it have gone? That was what she needed to focus on right now.

It was quiet a few moments as Ella tried to consider the possibilities, but eventually, realization crossed her features.

It wasn’t gone. It was blocking the path forward.

xXx

Ella thought back to when she had last seen the creature, figuring that was as good a clue as she was going to get.

Fortunately, there weren’t more cultists than before, Ella having worried they would have replaced the ones she had taken care of. It left her way somewhat open as she decided her best bet was to go in the direction the creature had been heading. If she remembered correctly, it would eventually lead her towards-

Ella remembered the gated doors in the big room that was partially destroyed. It was locked from the outside, making it impossible to get through easily, but Ella knew that had to be where she needed to go. It was the only place she hadn’t been in this god forsaken castle.

She’d have to worry about getting through it once she crossed that bridge, because she had a much bigger obstacle in her way if she was right.

xXx

Getting back to the destroyed ballroom, Ella hid behind a wall by the entrance as she listened for the now familiar sound. Sure enough, Ella could hear the chittering of the creature echoing through the large space, which meant she had been right.

Ella felt both dread and relief. Relief that she finally had a direction to go. Dread, because she knew there was no way she could get that door open without engaging with the creature in some way.

This would determine whether or not she could save Ashley. She would either kill this creature, or it would kill her. Ella remembered all the times she would joke about turning back, and she could practically hear Leon’s voice in her head right now telling her there was no other choice.

Not if she wanted to save Ashley.

Ashley was the whole reason Ella was even here right now. She had told Leon that she had to save Ashley to make up for the fact that she couldn’t save Alice, and while that was still true, she knew it was more than that now. Ashley was her friend, and she was relying on Ella right now. Ella refused to leave her behind, even if it meant dying.

Leon hadn’t even made these things flinch, the creatures always brushing off his attacks with little concern, and she didn’t know what she could do that Leon couldn’t, but it didn’t matter. She had to try.

Having prepared herself as much as she could, Ella peeked into the room, able to see the shadow of the creature moving along the top floor, which at least gave her some cover. She kept her footfalls quiet as she walked into the room, hiding behind a pillar and looking around. Maybe there was something she could use to her advantage.

There was rubble everywhere, but anything big enough to take out the creature was far too heavy for Ella to push, which didn’t leave her much. There were holes in the ground, and if she could make him fall into one of them, then maybe that would work, but she didn’t forget that the creature had strange limbs, and he could probably climb his way out, so she didn’t know if that would work.

Remembering her single grenade, she paused, an idea coming to mind. It was dangerous, and she’d have to time it exactly right, but if she could use the explosion to knock one of the large pieces of rubble onto the thing, then maybe that would either kill it, or at least pin it in place long enough for her to get out of there.

It was her best shot, and Ella silently moved to find the best piece of stone for her plan, keeping an eye on the creature's shadow so she knew where it was at all times.

There was a boulder that was near the edge of the top floor, and Ella knew it would be perfect for what she wanted to do. She just needed to get up there, place the active grenade under the rock, and jump down while the thing was chasing her, using herself as bait and getting out of the way just in time for the boulder to fall on it.

Easy enough.

“Who am I kidding.” She whispered to herself under her breath as she went through the plan in her mind over and over again. So many things could go wrong, and she knew it. Timing would be the hardest aspect, remembering that Leon said these grenades took about 3 to 5 seconds to explode, and she only had one shot. There was a very small chance of success, but what choice did she have?

Ella took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to do, before looking to the stairs she’d need to climb. She had no idea how fast the creature was, but she would have to be faster, or at least fast enough to get to where she needed to be before it could grab her. She would also have to bring it to the first floor so that it was behind her, otherwise she would never get to the stone in time.

She grabbed the grenade off her belt loop, her fingers wrapping tightly around the explosive as took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing.” She murmured, before running out of cover and into the open when the creature was the farthest away from the stone. “Hey, looking for me?” She called, though the things eyes had been on her the second she had exposed herself, and Ella barely had any time to react as it leapt towards her.

With a gasp, she moved around the pillar in front of her, needing to use it and the rubble everywhere to slow the thing down so she could make it to the stairs. She jumped around the rubble, using her ability to maneuver to her advantage as she quickly made it through the rocky terrain, before bolting for the stairs.

The thing wasn’t far behind her, Ella managing to get to the top of the stairs just as it leapt right over the terrain, landing halfway up the stairs and leaving very little space between them. Ella cursed but didn’t stop, knowing it would cost her her life as she practically slid to the rock, pulling the pin and placing the grenade in the crevice between the stone and the floor as the creature almost flew towards her.

She couldn’t even look at where she was going to land as she practically threw herself off the edge, landing on her shoulder with a grunt. Pain blossomed across her upper bicep, but as a shadow loomed over her, she had to push past it as she scurried to the side, the explosion sounding just as the creature landed in front of her. Ella hadn’t been able to get far away, but all she could do was pull her knees up to her chest and cover her head with her arms when rubble fell around her, some hitting her in the thigh and forearm and making Ella grit her teeth.

The ground shook as the boulder landed on the floor with a crash, Ella flinching but not looking up as she waited. Whether she was waiting for the thing to kill her, or for silence to follow, she didn’t know, but after a few moments, the latter prevailed, and Ella cautiously removed her arms and looked towards the large rock not even a few inches by her boots. Shock and relief filled her as she saw the robed creature pinned beneath the rock, unmoving.

She almost couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and she was sitting there for a few moments as she processed that she had done it. She had no idea if the creature was dead, but she wasn’t going to get close enough to check, Ella quickly reigning in the shock of what she had done as she got to her feet.

Afraid the thing would eventually crawl out from under the boulder, she wasted no more time as she ran towards the gaited door, her eyes roaming over it and looking for any way through. There was a small vertical opening in the middle, and Ella wondered if she’d be able to fit her arms through enough to pull the lock out.

She knew it wouldn’t be an easy fit, but she’d have to try, otherwise she didn’t know how she would get past it.

Ella raised her arms, pushing through the opening and only managing to get to the middle of her forearm before the fit became tight, and she had to start forcing her arms through. She could immediately feel the blood flow being cut off as she got to her elbows, but she could reach enough to push the tip of the sliding lock out, just needing to be able to reach the handle with her other hand. Ella bit into her lip at the pain, but didn’t stop as she pushed it as far as she possibly could, barely able to reach the handle with her other hand.

Taking a moment break, she prepared herself, knowing this next part was going to hurt. Knowing she couldn’t avoid it, she began to pull her arm out, the metal of the gate roughly tearing at the skin of her arm, and Ella couldn’t help the cry of pain as she kept pulling her arm towards her despite the pain. Tears welled in her eyes against her will, but soon, her arm was free, Ella letting out a breath of momentary relief.

She was bleeding a bit, but otherwise okay, and soon, Ella did the same with her other arm, pulling the handle with her and unlocking the gate.

The fresh wounds at her arms stung, Ella looking over the damage with a wince as blood dripped down her forearms.

So much for not adding to her collection.

xXx

Ella took only a few minutes to clean and wrap her arms, before looking to the car that would take her across the open ravine and towards a clock tower. The realization that she was one step closer to Ashley crossed her mind, and Ella was quick to get to the car, opening the door and stepping inside. As if the thing had a sensor, it began to move, Ella looking over the edge once there was nothing below her and swallowing down the anxiety. She still couldn’t come to terms with the fact that she had survived the creature and was finally making progress in her quest to find Ashley, on her own.

In the library, she had admittedly thought she wouldn’t make it five minutes without Leon, but here she was. She had kept hidden and taken down cultists on her own with just a knife, and then, she had taken down the orange eyed creature with just a grenade and a boulder. She was more capable than she realized, despite what her self doubt wanted to make her think.

She didn’t know how far she’d get with her plan to save Ashley, but she had far more confidence in herself than she did a couple of hours ago, and she would take the wins where she could get them.

xXx

Making it to the other side, Ella stepped off the car, turning to see the trolley begin to go back towards where she had come from on its own.

That was good, because if Leon was behind her, he’d need it to get across. Ella refused to let her mind question whether or not he would be behind her, turning towards the clock tower and focusing on it.

She pulled the combat knife from her boot, before cautiously moving forward up the steps and inside the clocktower. There was a spiral staircase along the wall, but Ella was more focused on what was in the middle. A stone statue of Ramon was there, wooden platforms all around it as if it had just been built.

“Wow. . .this guy may be more full of himself than Saddler.” She murmured as she shook her head. There were some cultists further up the stairs, and Ella knew there was no sneaking around anymore, readying herself to fight.

She knew to be smart and run past who she could, only engaging with the ones she absolutely had to, but as she got to the first platform, that plan was quickly thwarted when Ramon’s statue suddenly starting spewing fire out of its mouth, the flames licking at Ella’s arm as she barely dodged it, moving back down the stairs.

Now stopped, a few cultists began to surround her, and she knew she’d never get past these stairs with that statue blocking her path.

She looked to the cultists with a crossbow, dodging the arrow and lunging at her as Ella stabbed the knife into the woman's neck. Having no time to pause with the other cultists reaching for her, she slid the knife into her boot before grabbing the crossbow from the now dead woman’s hands, managing to snag a couple of bolts before she was forced to dodge a hatchet.

Moving around them, she jumped onto the wooden platform by the statue that had paused its assault, getting behind its head to avoid the flames that would surely come soon. Using the crossbow bolts she had grabbed, she took out the cultists around her, or at least wounded them (she didn’t have amazing aim with the unfamiliar weapon), giving her time to focus on the statue. She waited for the flames to cease once more, before she slammed the handle of the crossbow into the joints of the statue's mouth, hoping to dislodge it.

Her plan was to dislodge it and expose the pipe that the flames were coming out of so she could break it, making it to where the flames would go up into the head instead of towards the stairs. Flames would still escape from the statue, but they wouldn’t be directly pointed at the stairs, giving Ella an open passage forward.

She managed to get one corner of the mouth dislodged, but the wood of the crossbow was splintered. Ella still moved over to the other side, hoping it would last long enough to dislodge it as well, and if it didn’t, hopefully it would do enough damage that Ella could pull it off. However, someone calling her name stopped her.

“Ella?” She knew that voice, her heart jumping in her chest as she moved to look over the edge. Sure enough, Leon was on the bottom floor, and the weight that had almost cemented itself inside of Ella lifted so abruptly she was almost knocked off balance.

“Leon, you’re alive!” She breathed, her shoulders almost sagging as the anxiety dissipated. The two stared at each other for a few moments, taking each other in. Relief was visible in Leon’s eyes as well, the blond having clearly been worried about her. He had known they wouldn’t kill Ashley, but Ella’s fate had been unknown, even when she didn’t follow him down.

“You weren’t worried about me were you? You know I don’t go down easy.” She joked as she moved to look for a way down. She was ready to pull Leon into a hug whether he liked it or not, needing to let her mind fully accept that he was alive.

“Yeah I know. Couldn’t really help it.” That made her pause for a moment, Ella’s heart fluttering in her chest. The way he said it, as well as him so freely admitting it, caught her by surprise. Before Ella could really react, however, Leon’s eyes widened. “Ella-” Ella had no time to react as the loud thud of the creature landing behind rattled the wood and knocked her off her feet, its arm shooting out and wrapping around her before she could fall.

Being distracted by Leon made her miss the chittering sound that was now echoing in her ear, Ella mentally cursing as she realized she had let herself get caught. Her arms were pressed against her sides, Ella having dropped the crossbow, and the creature's grip tightened, making Ella grit her teeth at the pressure as it lifted her up. The body armor she wore only seemed to evenly distribute the tightness around her upper torso, working against her in that moment. Her feet were no longer on the ground, Ella’s legs dangling in the air and leaving her completely incapacitated and unable to free herself.

Leon had his gun up, but the sound of boots against wood echoed behind Ella as Ramon stepped onto the platform and into Leon’s sight.

“Sorry to interrupt this touching reunion. However, this nuisance must finally be dealt with.” He referred to Ella, though he didn’t take his eyes off Leon. “Are you prepared to watch her die, Mr. Kennedy?” Ramon asked him, before gesturing towards the creature. It was then that it began to squeeze Ella between its claws, Ella feeling the air practically forced out of her lungs as the material of her body armor constricted around her ribcage, the bones closing around her lungs painfully. If she had any air, she’d be screaming, but she could only manage a pathetic whimper as her brain began to pound violently against her skull and her lungs burned as though they were on fire.

“Ramon!” Ella could barely hear Leon shout over the blood rushing in her ears, and she could only shut her eyes tightly, becoming lightheaded and disoriented as more time passed, and she was sure her ribs were about to snap at any moment as she mentally begged for mercy. “Stop!” The panic and desperation wasn’t well hidden in Leon’s voice, the man unable to do anything but watch as he knew his bullets wouldn’t hurt the creature, and shooting Ramon would only guarantee the creature crushing Ella.

Without warning, the creature’s grip loosened, Ella sucking in a breath and coughing as she was mercifully given reprieve. Every rise and fall of her chest sent sharp pains throughout her upper torso, but she couldn’t stop herself, her body desperate for oxygen.

“Do not worry, Mr. Kennedy.” There was something behind Ramon’s voice. He almost sounded surprised, and if Ella wasn’t barely awake and experiencing the worst headache of her life, she might have realized why. “Lord Saddler has a special death planned out for her.” Ella weakly looked up at Leon, her teary eyes meeting his. He looked pissed, but there were other emotions present in his gaze, his usually guarded expression having fallen. “You, however, are at your journey’s end.” Worry and residual fear were the only emotions she could place before the creature holding her jumped up and out of sight, Leon eyes following her until they no longer could. “Expel this intruder!” She heard Ramon shout as the thing carried her out of the clock tower. Ella was limp in its hold, still suffering the effects of its assault and trying her best to stay awake despite the fact that relief from the excruciating pain in her head and chest awaited her in unconsciousness.

xXx

Ella felt as though she was losing time, falling in and out of consciousness as she was eventually handed over to a cultist. He was carrying her over his shoulder, her hands tied even though she couldn’t really struggle.

“Ella!” A familiar voice reached her ears, and it took her a moment to place that it was Ashley. She did her best to raise her head and look up, seeing the girl being walked with her hands held behind her back. She was clearly weak and in pain, but she was still there and fighting the parasite, which sent relief through Ella.

Ella couldn’t hold her head up for long, not even able to find the strength to respond as her migrain seemed to increase at the simple movement, nausea swirling in her stomach. All she could do was try to stay awake, it being the only thing she could focus on.

xXx

Ella had no idea how much time had passed, but they reached an archway where a relatively normal looking man in a red beret was standing, his eyes raising at the sight of Ella.

“What’s this?” He asked, his voice gruff and deep.

“Lord Saddler requested she be brought with the girl.” Ramon’s displeasure at the fact was palpable, and the man only grunted, gesturing for the cultist holding her to move ahead.

“I have delivered the girl to you, as promised! Do tell our lord to not-” The words faded as Ella got farther and farther away from them. Ashley wasn’t too far behind, and soon the doors in the archway were closing. For a moment, Ella thought she heard the sound of gunshots, but she couldn’t really tell for sure with her headache and lightheadedness. She hoped, however, that she had, and it meant Leon wasn’t too far behind them and he had survived the clock tower.

xXx

Eventually, Ella was tossed into a cell-like room, barely keeping her head from slamming against the floor and finding herself grateful her hands had been tied in front of her. Even though she had caught herself, the sudden movements had still caused her head to spin further, Ella falling back against the ground weakly. The men carried an unconscious Ashley over to a bed in the corner, laying her down before leaving both girls alone, the only door in the cell slamming shut.

“Ashley-” Ella tried, though she immediately had to squeeze her eyes shut and swallow in an attempt to keep the bile from rising in her throat, quickly realizing that speaking was a bad idea at the moment. She wasn’t sure she could wake Ashley up right now anyway, let alone keep herself conscious any longer.

Leon briefly appeared in her mind, his expression from before ingrained into her memory, and she could only hope he was okay as the darkness finally took over her vision.

xXx

When Ella came to, it took her mind a moment to clear the fog, the pain in her head having faded into a dull headache. She also realized her hands were no longer tied, and her head wasn’t resting against the hard ground anymore. Her brows furrowed as she tried to make out what it was, only able to determine that it was warm in her disoriented state. She took in the room around her, and it was then she realized she was in a different spot from before as well.

“Hey, you’re awake.” The familiar voice was soft, and Ella turned her head to see Leon looking down at her. It was then she realized her head had been resting on his thigh, though that thought was quickly forgotten as she fully processed that Leon was in front of her. His expression was guarded once more, but Ella could still see the relief he was feeling as he looked down at her.

She sat up, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, not caring that the movement had slightly worsened her headache. Leon was surprised, but he didn’t object, his arm eventually moving to return it. Their reunion from before had been cut short, and Ella barely had time to accept that he was alive before being attacked. Now, she could feel the warmth from his body and his breath against her neck, all of her anxiety finally leaving her. “How are you feeling?” He asked her after a few moments, and Ella pulled away to look him in the eyes. He looked exhausted, but otherwise okay, which was all she could ask for.

Ella then considered his question, seeming to come back to her body then as she realized that her torso was extremely sore. It had been before the creature had attacked her, but that was nothing compared to how she was feeling now. Especially in her arms and chest, which had taken the brunt of it.

Ella shrugged off her flannel, wincing lightly as she did, and it was then she saw the dark, ugly bruising in the shape of the creature's claws across her biceps and right below her elbows, grimacing slightly at the sight. They weren’t pretty, but considering she was covered in injuries at the moment, what was a couple more? She then pressed her hand against her chest, testing out her ribs. A spot on her right side made her grit her teeth and suck in a breath as a sharp pain shot through her, but it didn’t feel broken, which was all she could ask for.

“I’m alright.” She finally answered after concluding her self examination. “I’ll take a headache and some bruising over what could have happened.” She joked as she looked back up at Leon, noticing that his eyes were trained on the bruises. He looked upset, with his set jaw and hard gaze, and Ella replaced the flannel on her shoulders, having a feeling he was beating himself up at the moment. “Like I said, I’m okay.” She repeated more firmly, regretting her joke now. She really should have known better, but she didn’t blame Leon for what happened, and he shouldn’t either. She was the one who had been distracted and missed the chittering, after all. “How are you doing? Did you get the medicine?” She asked him, drawing his focus away from her. She looked up at Ashley, seeing that she was sleeping peacefully, the veins having receded completely, which answered her question on its own.

Leon looked to his arm, Ella’s eyes following as she realized his veins were still black. Ella wondered if he had not used it on himself, confused as to why they didn’t look much better.

“Yeah, but it’s spreading faster.” He answered her unspoken question, Ella’s heart dropping. That meant they were still on a time crunch, but at least Leon and Ashley had a little more time. They just had to get to Luis’ lab for the procedure.

“At least Luis came through, huh?” Ella hummed at the thought of the man, wondering where he was. She had known they wouldn’t regret trusting him. She just wished he would stick by them so they could make sure he got out as well.

“Yeah, he did.” Leon replied, but there was something in his tone, and Ella gave him a curious look. “He didn’t make it.” He murmured regretfully, and Ella froze, processing what Leon had just revealed as she looked to the floor. She found herself almost not believing it, thinking that surely Leon was mistaken. Luis was always cracking jokes and flirting at inappropriate times, and it had made him seem practically invincible. Ella couldn’t make sense of the news that he was dead. However, Leon, who hadn’t been a big fan of the man, was clearly upset about it as well, which cemented it within Ella.

Luis was gone. Ella hadn’t known him very well, but he had grown on her, and she had been looking forward to meeting him again, and finally giving him her name.

Now, she’d never get the chance.

#Leon Kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy x OC #Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy Fanfiction #Leon S. Kennedy #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 4 #Resident Evil 4 Remake #Lost and Found

23 notes · View notes

irislikesocs · 1 year

Text

Ride or Die

Prologue

Three months ago in Istanbul, I found out my boyfriend was an assassin. It wasn’t shock I felt that night, as I climbed out of the hotel window with the duffel of drugs, guns, money or whatever strapped across my body, as I felt a tug on my ankle, anchoring me and throwing off my balance, as I turned back to see the hard, cold, calculating look on Harry’s face. Rather, it was like everything about him, pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know needed solving, finally clicked into place: his constant work trips, his far-too-nice flat, his skin, a filigreed spiderweb of scars.

How could I be so stupid?

I would have much preferred him cheating on me like a normal boyfriend. Instead we had to deal with this bullshit.

“Give back the bag, Lucy.”

No ‘what are you doing here?’, no look of surprise, no anger in his voice. So, he’d known all along.

I saw red: how long had he been tailing me, did he know from the start, and oh God was any of it real, and did he enjoy breaking down, ever so patiently, brick-by-brick, every one of my walls and defences and exposing me as the broken, lovesick fool, and pretending he loved me anyway. Making me fall in love with him, the fucking bellend, the fucking lying arsehole.

“Fuck. You.”

I twisted out of his grip with a kick of my free leg and went straight into free-fall, pulling a muscle as I grasped the balcony railing of the room below. I sucked in the pain. Bracing myself against the wall, I jumped to the building opposite, over a multi-storey drop, just about gripping the flat ledge of it’s roof, and, struggling a bit with the added weight of the duffel, managed to heave myself over and onto my back. I could still see him in the window, a dark silhouette against yellow. For the first time, I found him menacing.

His form got smaller as he backed out of view. I sat up. He reappeared suddenly, stepping onto the windowsill and pushing off with such force that he vaulted over the alley below with ease.

Oh shit.

He stumbled a bit on the landing and I took my chance. I ran. He gave chase. We ran across the Turkish rooftops, slipping and sliding as tiles gave away beneath our feet. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

The mission was a simple snatch-and-grab, something I’d done countless times before, until Carver flagged that the duffel in question had been snatched-and-grabbed by the psychos from Joburg and I, suddenly afflicted with a case of dumb bitchitis, decided I could snatch-and-grab it right back. However painful it is to admit, I should have listened to Carver, who decided to cut his losses and enjoy a pleasant soak at the local hammam.

I followed them to their hotel alone. I kept my distance, completely blind to the familiar swagger of Harry’s gait - idiot arsehole move - and waited for them to leave the room before scaling the fire escape.

The stupid bag bounced against my stomach as I ran away, disrupting my rhythm, slowing me down. He was gaining on me and it pissed me off.

Hubris aside, I refused to die with my back to my murderer. I understood without a doubt that this man, who until a few moments ago I had believed loved me, once he caught me, would kill me. My bones screamed at such injustice, howling a message that surged in my veins, sliced through sinew and hacked it’s way out of my skin: my story will not end here.

I stopped. I turned to face him. Harry slowed to a halt a few feet away, watching as I hoisted the bag over my head to drop it at my feet. A cloud of dust rose between us in the early morning light. I adopted a defensive stance, mindful of the knife concealed in my sleeve.

It was there on that rooftop, three months ago in Istanbul, that I left the love of my life for dead.

#ride or die #prologue #tangerine x reader #tangerine x oc #bullet train tangerine #tangerine headcanon #tangerine imagine #rideordie

25 notes · View notes

allfandomstan · 1 year

Text

After Dark~(Batman x Vigilante reader), Chapter 2.

Read Chapter 1! Find it on my ‘posts’..

Genre: Action, Mystery, Crime, Noir.

Setting: The Iceberg Lounge from ‘The Batman’ 2022.

Warnings: Swearing, minor sexual harassment, minor violence, mention of adult themes, dark themes.

Word count: 4.6k

Author Notes: Hi guys, its me again! Back with another chap!! I was dying to get this one done cuz I’ve procrastinated enough😫…Anyways, this is kinda a chill chapter compared to the last one(Vengeance and reader get to know eachother a bit) and I hope you enjoy! Pls let me know what you guys think.

****

You were currently in your apartment, going through the events from the previous night. You just witnessed a high-scale murder of Gotham’s very own Mayor to be exact.

And you also ran into him..

You were still in your home clothes which was just an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. You were slumped on the living room couch with a tub of instant noodles in hand. Quick fixes had to do. You wrote down the events from the previous night into your diary, the one you keep for your work. This way it allows you to recollect vital moments and distinguish key information you may need later. You had to force yourself to remember..

You kept writing and recollecting when you heard a loud buzz come from your burner phone. Putting down your pen slowly, you curiously picked up the phone.

The message came from an unknown number. Wait..

That must be him.

So, He did notice the tiny piece of paper that you slyly slid into the side of his belt after all?

Grinning you open up the message…

“It’s me”

Your grin widened upon the realisation that it was actually him. He actually bothered to contact you. Well, why wouldn’t he?

You start typing slowly.

You just have to hold your ground when it comes to him. You can’t risk giving away too much information.. Even though he probably did a whole-ass background check on you already.

“Who’s me?”, you respond back mockingly, even though you already knew who it was. Not a minute was wasted, as he responded right after:

“You know who it is”…

“Do I really?”

You chuckled to yourself at the way you teased him. Alright, maybe you should stop.

“Alright, alright I got you Bat”.

You gave up joking around and got down to business. Inhaling deeply, you ask:

“What do you want?”

“I want to see you”.

Ok, now you figured he was genuinely interested. Or maybe just curious.

“Why?”, you type, aiming to get a reason out of him even though you knew already. You had to admit, you wanted to hear it come from him.

“Because of what you said.. about cooperation. And because I know what you saw.”

“And?”

“And maybe we can get somewhere with it?”

Wow, he caught on rather fast. The little giving your number trick did work well, and it worked almost instantly. Shit, it worked like that most of the time when it came to men.

“Fine… where?”

Now this was getting serious. He wanted to see you again and you know he meant business. Well, so do you. ‘Was he gong to interrogate you even further or was he going to cooperate?’

Uncertainty filled you to the very core but you couldn’t miss the chance you get to know him even more. Not that you knew very much about him to begin with. You always wondered who the man behind the mask was.

‘Who was this caped crusader that head been haunting the nights of Gotham for the past two years?’

‘Who was he under there?’

‘What were his motives?’

‘Why did he love this godforsaken city so much?’

‘Why does he want to protect it?’

Oh what you would do to find out. The curiosity bubbling inside you must be subdued, but it only will when you find the truth. But you had to be patient. Couldn’t get too nosy or he just might shut you out completely and maybe call this whole thing off. Without pondering much further you decided to keep engaged in the conversation:

“Oh are you sure about that?”

“Yes”

“Fine, but where can we possibly meet up?”

“The Iceberg”

Ok, hold the fuck on right now. He wanted to meet up with you in the Iceberg Lounge? Where all the fucking crackheads, crime lords and corrupt cops go to? Shit, that’s the sketchiest place in Gotham. Or even the planet, in your opinion. But nevertheless, that place hit too close to home.. Way too close. And that’s exactly why you hated it.

“You want to meet up in the goddamn Iceberg Lounge?”

“Yes. I got some things to deal with”

“What things?”

“That’s none of your business”.

To be honest, when he put it that way you kind of knew what he was talking about. C’mon you knew that place way too well..

“It’s the Penguin, right?”. You waited for him to respond. He must be baffled. You were able to read right through him…

After a minute, he responds with:

“Like I said, that’s none of your business”.

Heh, how rude. But you didn’t blame him though. Anyone who came to deal with the Penguin had to keep it incognito.

“Fine”, you respond. You knew there was no use in trying to interrogate him. He just won’t budge.

“See you there at 9”

“Umm, where exactly?”

“The 44 below”

“Shit, you want me to venture into danger zone?. Damn, I won’t even be surprised if I were to be murdered in there. And besides, you’ll just walk into the 44?

“Just do as I say”

“You really don’t care what happens to me, don’t you sweetie?”

“Just.. trust me”.

****

Back at his cave, Bruce was watching you. He was watching what happened the previous night on his big computer, after attaching his eye lens to the flash drive. He was watching through what he saw with his own eyes. His eyes scanned your face seeking recognition, but he received nothing. He certainly haven’t seen you around and definitely not once in the two years he served as Batman.

‘Who was this mysterious woman and what did she want?’

He let his eyes wander over your features, letting his gaze linger a little longer. He took note of your eyes and how they had a beautiful darkness in them, very much like his own. You were clearly angry, hurt and disturbed in some way like him. But nevertheless, he found you quite beautiful, and he didn’t want to admit it. He let his eyes wander over your fierce eyes, your little pointed nose, your blush cheeks and your defined jawline. And then he caught sight of your lips. They were lush, plumped and a deep maroon in colour. They looked soft…

Shit. He was getting carried away.

“Stop It Bruce!”, he mutters to himself, frustrated because he was getting distracted by this woman who he doesn’t even know the name of..

“Is that a friend I see?”

upon the realisation of his butler in the room, Bruce whips his head around frantically, glaring at Alfred. “I didn’t see you there”

“And I didn’t see her before. Who is she?”

Bruce lets out a heavy exhale, clearly irritated by Alfred’s intrusion.

“I don’t know”, he responds, voice filled with hesitancy. The butler gave Bruce a long, searching look. “If you want to invite her over for tea or something I-“, Alfred was cut off by Bruce.

“It’s not like that, she’s not a friend”.

Cutting off all of Alfred’s suspicions. Well, at least now he’s clear. “Oh well, okay”, Alfred said, looking down at the dark, tiled floor.

“You really shouldn’t sneak up on me like that”, Bruce said eyeing the butler.

“And you shouldn’t be caved up in this God forsaken terminal all day. You missed breakfast.”

Bruce let out a long and heavy sigh, indicating he was no longer interested in this conversation. “Alfred.. It’s what I do-“

“And It’s taking a toll on you!”, Alfred said out of pure frustration and concern.

“Alfred please..You’re not my Father”.

Fuck.. That wasn’t meant to come out like that. Yeah, the sleepless nights were really starting to take a toll on him. The butler just stared at him, wide-eyed and obviously a little hurt. But despite Bruce’s shockingly true statement, Alfred just responds with: “ Yes, that is very much understood”. By his strained voice, Bruce could very much understand that he has hurt Alfred. He’s gonna have to make up for it later. “Alfred, I-“

“No, no I insist. You carry on with your.. work”.

And with that, Alfred walks off to the elevator to leave. He spares Bruce one last glance over the shoulder and says:

“Hopefully we’ll see each other for dinner”…

Bruce lets out a heavy sigh. Again. Was his life really this dark and gloomy? He really needed to improve on his relationships, especially with the only family he had..

****

You stood outside the Iceberg Lounge, waiting to get in. You were standing in the queue for the club, which was filled with random civilians, most probably druggies and alcoholics who can’t get their life together. Here you were wearing a crimson red strapless corset top, with a black, tight mini skirt that showed off your curves spectacularly. You were wearing sky high black heels, and carried a elegant red handbag to carry your things in, including the little knife that you took with you everywhere. It had become a habit.. And it was part of your identity now. Besides, one can’t be too careful in a city like Gotham…

You had your hair down and styled to the side, and you had the perfect makeup for the occasion. Some smoky eyes and red lipstick did the job perfectly. It worked for the appeal. A little too well..

“Hey baby”.

A tall, lanky man with several golden teeth approached you. He smelt of cigarettes and weed. “Hey”, you say, trying to sound bored and aloof clearly not interested in further conversation. “You look nice tonight.. You single?” He snickered flirtatiously at the last line, inching closer to you. You could feel his hot cigar smelling breath on your face. It was sickening.

You moved back a bit, disgusted by the man’s advances. “Umm, no..”

You knew it was a lie, but you hoped it would falter his disgusting intentions ever so slightly. But you were wrong..

He hungrily eyed you up and down, his gaze penetrating your body and scanning over your features and curves, especially your ass. “Well that’s an awful shame.. I mean whoever that lucky bastard is, I envy him.. or her”. He let out a low chuckle.

“Heh, thanks for the compliment”.

“No problem, princess”.

you turned away from him, trying to put a stop to the conversation but then you felt a calloused hand grabbing your forearm. “And hey if you uh, ever feel lonely or just wanna have some fun.. Come over to Daddy, I’ll be right there waiting for you”.

You glared up at him, annoyed. Did this fucker not get the hint?

“Umm, thanks but I think I’m fine-“

“Oh are you sure, honey? You look like you could use some-“

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure thanks”..

You were now starting to lose patience with this guy. His grip on your arm grew ever so slightly.

You tried to yank your arm away but he wouldn’t let you. He grabbed on even tighter.

“Woah, woah, woah.. What’s the hurry for sweetheart?”

Grabbing your forearm, he brought you closer to him. His hand reached for your ass-

“Don’t touch me asshole!”

you tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let go of your arm. As retaliation, his hand went up behind you to slap your bottom. He wanted to provoke you even further.

“What’s wrong babe? No one’s gotta find out!”. His voice was laced with pure cockiness.

With one swift move of your free hand, you punched the guy in the face. Instantly blood started leaking from the man’s nose, dripping down his mouth and chin and onto his brown leather jacket. Oof, that must’ve hurt. And that is what you intended, anyways.

“You little slut!”, screeched the man and lunged toward you. His hand latched onto your throat. “Listen here you-“

A hard slap right to the face was all he received from you.

He stumbled back, bumping into another man.

“Oi, watch were you’re going mate!”

Annoyed, the man pushed your attacker back. A fight ensued between them and all you could hear was yelling and shouting.

A crowd was beginning to form, encouraging the fight.

“Finish him!” “Take his eyes out!!” “C’mon dude, you can do it!”

You didn’t know who the crowd was rooting for but you didn’t want to stick around and find out. You just wanted to get into the nightclub and get your job done with. You’d much rather be with Vengeance than with these nut jobs.

You used the distraction as the perfect opportunity to cut ahead of people and get into the Lounge. There wasn’t a proper line anymore, as everyone was dispersed and running to get into the crowd to get a better look. “Losers”, you mumbled to yourself as you walked forward, towards the entrance of the Lounge. There you met two bouncers, who were clearly identical twins… Shit.. Not them again.

One of them caught sight of you walking up, and eyed you closely..

“Hey lady, you know what’s going on back there?”

“Nothing, just two dickheads getting it on”, you respond coolly, as if you totally didn’t cause the fight.

“Ahh ok.. Well then, what are you here for, ma’m?”

He eyed you up and down suspiciously.

“To have a good time like everyone else, obviously”, you say fluttering your lashes.

“She’s lying”, whispers the other twin into his ear.

“Yeah, you seem kinda fishy lady”.

You arch your brow. “Well, why?”

“Fuck I dunno, maybe cuz you’re the only one who didn’t run to join the crowd”

“Oh c’mon, why the fuck would I wanna see that?”

“Because you caused it?”

“Yeah, she caused it!” whispers the other twin a bit too loudly that you wondered why he even bothered to whisper. After what seemed like ages pass by, you were starting to get pretty restless. You had to make up an efficient lie that’ll convince these two bozos to let you in.. And Bingo. You knew exactly what to say.

You walked closer to them, slowly.. Lowering your voice to a sultry timbre, you say: “Hey, you wanna know something?”

The twins look at each other confused. One nods for you to continue.

“I’m actually here for Oz”.

“Here for Oz?”

“Yeah I’m here for him, if you know what I mean”, you chuckle playfully, fluttering your lashes.

They go still, trying to process what you said. You gave them a minute because you knew they were known to be a bit retarded.

“Ohhh” one of them speaks up after an eternity of thought. You fidget around, twirling your hair and fluttering your lashes. “Alright, sorry ma’m we didn’t know you were-“

“Oh it’s fine, it’s just that Oz doesn’t like his sessions delayed”, you chuckle.

“Yeah umm, come on right in”. One of them hastily holds the door open for you, consumed with guilt.

“Thanks boys!”.

****

“One martini coming right up!”, chirped the bartender rather gleefully. Damn, she was an awful lot positive for a Gothamer, it kind of creeped you out.

You were inside the club, after lying about being the Penguin’s prostitute which was fucking sadistic, but it served you good, nevertheless.

‘Where the hell is he?’. You were here for about 20 minutes and you were starting to get restless..

you suddenly heard loud screams and curses escaping people’s mouths.

“Get him!”

“Don’t let him fucking escape!!”.

you whipped your head around frantically to see what was causing all the commotion. You saw a black, armoured figure running around and beating the absolute shit out of people. Oh. That’s what he meant when he said he’ll meet you at the 44. Fucking lunatic.

He took the men down, one by one with such ease and grace. How did he fucking move like that? Especially in heavy plated armour? The man had to be some kind of combat God.

You see him abruptly come to a stop once he sees a round, plump man in front of him. Which was none other than Oswald fucking Cobblepot, a.k.a the notorious Penguin.

A conversation happens between them and then Vengeance heads up with Penguin to his dorm. You supposed it had to do with whatever he had to ‘deal’ with.

****

“I’m on the roof”

“How the hell am I supposed to get up there?”

“There’s stairs at the very back”.

Sighing, you walk towards the exit. Whatever dealings Batman was conducting in Cobblepot’s dorm was now dealt with and now he wanted to see you.

You exited the building and now the cold, night air stung you. It was so much different from the hot, moist and suffocating atmosphere inside the Lounge. You walked to the back of the building to find a long stairway which led to the roof of the building. This was going to be a pain in the ass, especially with heels.

Taking in a deep breath to soothe your nerves, you started going up the set of stairs. You climbed slowly up the stairs thinking about what you wanted to gain from the little meeting with Batman.

Once you reached the top, you slowly walked in, looking around yourself for any signs of human presence. He was nowhere to be seen. Where was he?

“Hello?”, you called out, hoping to get some form of response.

You looked around impatiently. The cold chilly air was getting to you, and you were underdressed for the weather. It was probably going to rain soon.

Letting out an irritated groan, you pull out your burner phone and start typing.

“Where are you for God’s sake?”

Just as you were about press send, you were startled by a voice talking to you.

“You actually came”.

You almost jumped out of your skin. It was him..

Whipping your head around frantically, you send him a panicked glare. You took a moment to take a deep breath and compose yourself before saying:

“Jesus Christ. You really know how to sneak up on girls in the dark”.

“Yeah.. I do”.

He walks closer to the light, out of the shadows and now you see him fully in view. He was still towering over you by a couple fucking feet. “So?”, You ask trying to get to the point.

“You never told me the truth about why you were at Mitchell’s house”

“Oh, I don’t think we need to go there”, you stated.

He gives you a hard stare, calculating and inspecting.

“What? You said our meeting was conclusion based, not a freaking interrogation!. How’d you feel if I asked why you’re doing all this?”, you rant.

He lets out a heavy exhale, and glares at you.

“Exactly, that’s what I thought”, you say crossing your arms over your chest. Bruce knew you were one stubborn bitch, so he decided to get to the questions about your choice of actions later..

“What do you know about him? What’d you see?”

"What do I get from you in return?"

You wanted to know what it had in it for you. There was no way you were simply going to ‘give’ him the info.

He took a step towards you, eyeing you menacingly.

He scoffs.

"I'll make sure not to hand you in to the cops".

"aww, what a pity.. You're threatening me?"

"What if I am?"…

A long pause ensued after that.

Sighing, you decided to make a choice fast. What if you ask him directly if you could work on the case with him? It'd save a lot of time to just get to the point than trying to play mind games with this guy.

"If I tell you.. Will you let me work on the case with you undercover?"

He froze on the spot. ‘Did you take it too far?’ You didn’t care as long as it triggered some kind of outcome. You were getting tired just beating around the bush. After a minute of silence he spoke up, voice hesitant and cautious:

"It all depends on what your motives are.. So you're gonna have to answer my questions".

Damn it.. This again.

"Listen, I'm not just some creep trying to get info off the case so I could mishandle it. I'm trying to solve this case because I don't want this dick bag running around and doing the same to other people. Whoever did this, deserves to suffer.. And I will make them pay". Your voice was low and filled with hatred.

"Why do you bother?"

"I could ask the same for you"

"Don't try to dodge my questions!"

He grabbed you by the forearm to bring you closer to him so he can look straight into your eyes.

"I wanna know why a woman spies on Mitchell one day, witnesses his murder and then wants to avenge him so badly!"

"I don't give a fuck about that corrupt asshole!" you spit, your voice seething with venom.

"Then why?!"

"Because, this killer doesn't deserve no mercy!!"...

You yank your arm out of his grasp and take a step back, angrily.

"He doesn't deserve to take the lives of other people.. He can't have that power".

You looked down at the floor trying not to lose your cool. You held back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

Bruce stood still for a second, frozen in place. You looked broken.. You looked like you had the same reason he had and you wanted to unleash vengeance on those who did the wrong. You were trapped in your own hysteria of revenge.. Much like him.

He looked down, not knowing what to say.

"It's alright you don't gotta be sorry", you say sarcastically, wiping a tear that was threatening to spill.

It looked like he was empathising with you because of his sudden lack of aggressiveness. He was docile, and willing to listen further in hopes you'd reveal your story. But you just couldn't give in. Not now anyways.

Bruce took a moment to recollect his thoughts and think. Whatever you were, villain or vigilante, you sure looked desperate to solve this case. On the plus side, you had witnessed a vital part of the crime. Maybe even the whole damn thing to be honest. You might prove to be very useful, so he can’t just let you go…

"Maybe you could work with me.. And my partner".

Bingo.

You'd just made him agree. In your own terms emotions were always stronger than intellect, no matter how irrational. But you just couldn't celebrate yet.. You didn't want to work with his 'partner'. Whoever the fuck he or she was(you were damn sure it was Gordon) you weren't interested in this 3rd party business.

"Heh, Honey no... I just want you alone. Let's just say I don't do threesomes".

As you said it, you stalked closer to him flirtatiously until you were able to stare at him in the eyes and asses his feelings. He didn't give into the temptations just yet.. Instead he took a step back clearly not wanting to engage in the flirting. When he finally regains his composure (after your little advance), he speaks up again, his voice low: "Whatever dealings you have with me, my partner knows.. Its either you stick around with him or you don't get involved at all".

“What is your partner? The freaking Pope?”, you say mockingly. Was Gordon really that important after all?

“You either go by my terms or you don’t stick around, it’s as simple as that”.

“Woah woah there, chill. If you wanna have your partner around you could, I’m not gonna bite your head off.. I’ll do anything to be with you even though it means we’ll have company”. You send him a wink after that comment.

He doesn’t look away irritated, but instead stares directly at you, eyes showing the slightest sign of fascination.. Damn, this always worked when it came to men. Always. Maybe you could keep it up? That’ll help you a lot in the long run. You also didn’t mind flirting with him because he wasn’t too bad himself..

But he wasn't done with you just yet..

Quickly he transitioned back to his intimidating demeanour and gave you a stern, hard look.

"But if I find out you're manipulating the case or screwing with the evidence, I’m calling this thing off”.

“Oh baby, me screwing with evidence? Please. Remember, I got your back and I’m not supposed to be betraying you?” Your tone was once again laced with cockiness, clearly irritating him.

“Yeah, I hope you won’t”, he said in a bland tone.

You scoffed at his rather blunt statement and smirked.

“And I look forward to working with you too, Bat”.

You eyed him up and down before finally settling in on his eyes. Once again you noticed with colour of them. A deep sea blue with tiny specks of marine-green. The shade stood out strikingly against the black of his eye paint. It looked beautifully ominous.. Your gaze moved down to the lower part of his face; You took in the sight of his sharp jaw and noticed the tiny stubble forming. Your gaze shifted again to look at his eyes.. Damn it, you couldn’t get enough of them.

“Are you just gonna let me stare?” You ask, arching a brow. Bruce didn’t say anything, instead just stared into your eyes, his gaze intense. What was it with this guy and talking? He only used words when absolutely necessary.. But his eyes expressed things more than words ever could. He was an intense man.

Breaking out of his trance, Batman took another step back. He titled his head down to look at the floor before he brought it back up to look at you..

“I’ll see you”

“Yeah.. Hopefully if this fucker decides to make an appearance again”.

The Bat signal was lit up in the sky tonight meaning he was needed. He couldn’t stick around long- he had places to be. After all, Gotham was a big city. Too big even for its own good.. That meant it was also a knife-up-the ass for the vigilante in front of you; The crime came back to haunt him every night, capturing his body, mind and soul and dragging him into the depths of its inner turmoil, much like the resentment that comes back to terrorise you, delving into your blood like an unwelcome parasite. You couldn’t help it.. That’s just the way you were.

“He’ll be back”, he said looking at the Bat symbol in the sky. “And if we’re lucky, we might have another high-profile victim on the way”. His voice was dark and gruff but a hint of resolve and enthusiasm was making its way through.

You hummed in agreement, your eyes also tuned in to the light up in the sky.

“We will see each other.. Again”, He said with conviction in his voice, sure that the sadistic killer will strike again. As he said that final statement, his gaze met yours, once again captivating you.

“Oh I suppose we will”, you smile..

“If you get anything, let me know”. He indicated to the burner phone still in your hand with his index finger.

“Oh yes, definitely”.

Another smile creeps its way onto you face.. You were actually going to work with him! The very masked vigilante that had been terrorising the nights of Gotham for the past two years. Wow.. You had gotten far.

And with that he walks towards the edge of the building.. As he stands on the edge, he gives you a look over his shoulder.

“I didn’t ask for your name”.

“Call me, Red”..

He gives you one last knowing look and nods, before turning to jump off the roof. You heard the sound of grappling hooks and you ran towards the edge..

He was gone. And once again you were left alone on the roof, with your thoughts racing…

***

#batman x reader #the batman #dcu #dc comcis #battinson #robert pattinson fanfiction #Robert pattinson #fanfic #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #Batman x vigilante reader #battinson imagine #battinson x reader #Battinsimp #dc fanfic #batman ff #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

41 notes · View notes

1moremilgram-enjoyer · 7 months

Note

Look! Up in your ask box ! Is it a bird? Is it a plane ? No! It's an artificially removed piece of the sun using Whit Young as a mask ! Can you tell I am running out of unique ways to start these Anywho, next up on my list that I totally have issss Shidou! I myself don't actually have a lot of thoughts on him other than that his first MV makes my flower symbolism brain go insane, but he's still on the list !

The Sun… the blinding light… speaks to me… I listen for the song of the stars… and I hear a voice… urging me to talk about Mr funny doctor man!

Shidou is cool, though he might be the most… “Just Kinda There” Milgram character in my eyes. I have to admit I’ve probably thought the least about him compared to other characters, and I can’t really tell you why. He’s got a pretty interesting story all things considered, so I’m not sure what about him makes me so indifferent to him. At least he heals the other prisoners which is very swag of him.

CW: Murder, organ harvesting, human experimentation.

I have to admit I’m not really sure what the theorizing landscape looks like around him, which is part of why I haven’t thought of him much. Like we know he probably harvested organs to save either his children, his wife or all of the above, as well as for “scientific purposes” that he mentioned inhis 2nd VD (I am really intrigued by what the hell that means, but I’m not sure where to even start theorizing about that). But I think it was pretty much confirmed in Aesculapius he took the organs from countless braindead patients. Not great, obviously, it’s a pretty fucked up thing to do, but considering the other shit we’ve forgiven…

The big thing about him is how much he regrets what he's done, what with him wanting not to be forgiven and all that. But then finding new purpose in helping the other patients, etc. It's a cool character arc, and it's nice and wholesome, but it's a bit too straightforward for my tastes, you know? I think the most interesting thing about it is how it brings out Es' thoughts about life etc to light, but that's more on Es being one of my faves than Shidou in my view.

I guess the interesting dilemma about him is how much worse does the number of people killed make it, since he probably has the highest kill count by far. Like most people here have killed one or a few, Yuno likely hasn't killed anyone, and then this fucker may have a kill count in the dozens judging by the graves at the start of Triage. But even then, his regret really makes him quite sympathetic in comparison to the other prisoners.

That said, I do think Trial 3 might be able to make him a lot more interesting, because his Voice Reveal glitchy line is very very intriguing.

Shidou: [Cackling] Not dead... Yeah, she's definitely not dead... I finally understand the value of what I've been robbing people of...

Does that imply his wife ended up braindead after he took a bunch of people's organs? And that's when he understood why some families where so reluctant to give up their own family members? Is that when he stopped experimenting on people or something like that? It's all very odd.

Anyways, yeah, I feel you in the flower symbolism. One day I'm going to go down that rabbit hole and I will perish. For now I am not willing to go that insane (I say, as if I have any amount of sanity left).

One thing I do love is his dynamic with Amane. My guy consistently gets threatened by a twelve year old half his height, and he just doesn't know how to deal with it. I think it will be very funny if he gets stabbed by her, though I very much doubt he or anyone else will die due to it. I think it was implied in some timelines posts that Yuno could potentially take over if Amane... I don't know, cuts his hands off or something? Ah, we'll be fine. Inno Amane, cuz it's not like we know for sure that she won't be able to harm him even while guiltied.

Anyways interrogation questions.

(T1) Q1: Why did you choose your current workplace?

S: Because I thought it'd let me contribute to society.

(T2) Q15: Have you contributed to society?

S: I had thought my work was a contribution to society.

Is that related to whatever "scientific purposes" he originally had? Interesting. I'm really curious what that was.

(T1) Q14: If you could bring someone back to life, who would you choose?

S: I can't choose anyone.

Ouchie.

(T1) Q16: What is the definition of happiness?

S: To be promised an unchanging tomorrow.

That's honestly a pretty interesting answer. Better than Mahiru's at least! (I'm still slightly mad at that I can't lie to you)

(T1) Q17: What animal are you like?

S: Perhaps a ray. There is no particular reason, I just like them.

... sir what the fuck are you talking about.

(I looked up the symbolism, apparently they represent balance. I guess that could be about the balance of guilty/innocent since he talks about "the scale tilting to and fro" between the two in Triage? Like he wants to atone for his sins but he needs to stay alive for the others? I feel like I'm reaching but "ray" is just a very weird answer)

(T1) Q20: What do you think about smoking?

S: People tell me to stop because it's bad for my health. But I smoke because I want to be unhealthy.

It's a good thing he's familiar with sharp tools with how much he needs to watch that edge.

(T2) Q7: Are there any fellow prisoners you are on good terms with?

S: Kayano-kun has ended up like that, and I became unable to smoke as well too. I feel lonely that the smoking group as disbanded.

Sad news for the smoking group enjoyers. I hope they make up in Trial 3 or even post Milgram depending on what happens at the end, I like their dynamic.

(T2) Q12: Can you drive a car?

S: Yes I can. But I don't really want to do it anymore.

In case anyone was wondering why everyone thinks his family was involved in a car accident of some kind.

(T2) Q13: What are your thoughts on Amane's changes?

S: The adults need to do something about it. It's frustrating because I can't move due to treating people's injuries, so I have no choice but to leave it to someone else.

So true bestie please help her even if she stabs you. If we inno her can you help out? Please please please?

(T2) Q17: Tell us about your dating history.

S: I don't remember much but, I had one girlfriend in kindergarten, and in elementary school I had two relationships. I started going out with my wife in the 2nd year of middle school, and we've been together ever since.

Yo my guy had mad rizz the hell. Fellow childhood friend AO3 tag enjoyer too.

All in all, I would have probably voted him inno in both trials. Wonder what's gonna happen in Trial 3.

Wow these are getting longer. Anyways hope you liked it! Take care!

#shidou kirisaki

4 notes · View notes

pinkiepiebones · 2 years

Note

Y'know it's dawned upon me that my only real exposure to Victor Zsasz is through Batman Begins and more recently Birds of Prey, and since comic book films naturally have to leave out a lot of details I'm not nearly as familiar w/ him as I am with other Batman villains.

Which pieces of Batman media do you think portray Zsasz the best, or which ones are best for introducing someone to his character proper?

Thank you so much for asking ;-; seriously I just love this dreadful character so much

Basically there's very few Zsasz-related things that, like, show you how he's supposed to be. what got me going "oh holy shit this is my blorbo" was the Arkham games (Asylum and City, respectively; it's been a near a decade since Danny Jacobs said he recorded material for Arkham Knight and they never released the Zsasz mission DLC yes I'm still mad). In Asylum, Zsasz is used as the training dummy in the "how to glide kick" and "how to remote control the Batarang" sequences, which sucks, but then you find his patient interview tapes. I adore Danny Jacobs' voice work in those. There's a real nuance there, none of this "rrr I'm the Knife Man I fell into a vat of knife acid at the knife factory and now I'm part knife," all killer no brains kinda performance. His voice is at times soft and sweet and you listen to him describe his doctor's apartment (meaning he had been stalking her before he got locked up) and he tells her, ever so gently, that he knows how she's just wishing something would happen. "I can be that something, Sarah," he says to a horrified doctor. "I am your salvation."

So that was cool as shit to younger me. And then Arkham City happened and Zsasz told his backstory (in an unnecessarily breathy, somewhat flirty?) to Batman over the course of a payphone-based minigame. And, like,... Again, Danny Jacobs everyone. Man's out here giving LIFE to a depraved monster in the Batverse. I think it was shortly after this game I started RPing him, so you know I am in for the longest haul.

*ETA I forgot some Arkham Knight audio, like, leaked?

As for, like, comics? Luckily nothing's hard to track down because he's a fairly "new" character- introduced to the world the same year as Harley Quinn, in fact! (part of the reason I wrote my incredible fic DICHOTOMY) His first appearance was in the four-part "Shadow of the Bat" miniseries and it establishes him as a top-tier villain straight away- for 'therapy' he's locked inside a metal tube inside a cage and the doctor sits like eight feet back, he has to be led around by armed guards via poles attached to a collar, they won't let him use soap because it's a potential weapon in his hands, an armed guard has to FEED HIM BECAUSE HE PARALYSED AN ORDERLY WITH A PLASTIC FORK AND WHEN DOC ARKHAM REMINDS HIM OF THIS HE SAYS "you should have let me finish my work!", he only gets one little blanket in his Magneto cell because again everything is a weapon, the GCPD can only positively link him to twenty or so murders and then you see just how many scars (one for each kill) he has... and that's just the first two issues!! IIRC Zsasz's creators, Alan Grant and Norm Breyfogle, wanted Zsasz to be Gotham City's 'answer' to Hannibal Lecter- a monster in a human skin, a constantly calculating, brilliant, pure evil. In fact, at the end of "Shadow of the Bat"s fourth issue, Zsasz is drawn with black sclera and white pupils to represent his utter lack of humanity.

Then in, I wanna say, 1996, there was a short Zsasz story called "The First Cut is the Deepest," in which Zsasz tells a random Arkham doctor his backstory, then tricks her into getting too close to his metal tube and chokes her to death with one hand. I find it fascinating that his backstory- rich kid, parents died when he was all grown up but it still psychologically shattered him, he lost his own business empire and his inheiritance and everything gambling, went to commit suicide by HANGING FROM A NOOSE ON THE BRIDGE when a guy attempted to mug him, in that moment he saw the futility and hopelessness of humanity and committed his first murder- has only been told twice, both times by him. I think a lot about this because, like, how reliable a narrator is he? Did the events unfold as he tells them? Did the city just assume a rich orphaned adult could cope just like they assumed a rich orphaned child could cope? DID THE ZSASZES AND THE WAYNES KNOW EACH OTHER WERE BRUCE AND VICTOR F R I E N D S DOES BATMAN FEEL IMMENSE SADNESS WHEN HE SEES ZSASZ'S CRIMES i am normal please hire me DC

What else... there's a subplot of another story shortly after SotB where Zsasz is holding a girl's dorm hostage but fml I can't remember the title of that one

Don't read "Streets of Gotham" it is largely garbage the ONLY good things to come from it are Dustin Nguyen's watercolour covers and the three panels of "Zsasz Vision" (how he sees- or has convinced himself to see- the world; everyone is a rotting corpse except for him and the scenery is awash in gore and grime). Everything else in the story is stupid and bad and I will rip it up with my teeth

The Gotham series Zsasz is not Zsasz they literally should have just created a new character Zsasz CANONICALLY HATES GUNS AND ONLY USES THEM AS A LAST RESORT IF HE'S GOT NOTHING ELSE HANDY

It's hard to find one without commentary but the Batman Begins game has extended Zsasz dialogue voiced by Tim Booth the guy who played him in Batman Begins and I really enjoyed his voice work (Tim's a swell guy too, has some albums and a band and a hundred years ago when I complimented his voice work on Twitter "good job acting like you were a psychotic killer" he responded "oh that's not acting ;)" ) (Fun fact! Booth trained for a fairly complicated fight sequence that was supposed to occur in the final act of Batman Begins, Zsasz vs Bat, but it was scrapped at the last minute 😭)

Even if you don't know Zsasz too well I did write a long fic that is basically a what if scenario wherein Harley is his asylum doctor and you should read that maybe orz

In conclusion thank you for letting me tell you about this truly heinous beast that I love and that makes SUCH A BETTER FOIL FOR BATMAN THAN THE FUCKING JONKEL LIKE DAMN I WILL LEARN HOW TO WRITE COMICS JUST TO PROVE IT

*edited to add audio links*

#zsasz #victor zsasz #mister zsasz #mr. zsasz #this is a gotham hate blog #tw suicide mention #tw murder mention

9 notes · View notes

bestdamnshot · 23 days

Text

bit of a shit head-canon but in my head seb is a dad, a really good dad despite his own shit upbringing. mostly modern Seb bc he can be more open when it comes to affection & supporting his kids etc. & I mostly picture Seb being an amazing girl dad in modern hence my oc Astrid comes in & is the reason I started having this whole head-canon in the first place right? But even though I first imagined them having a really shitty relationship bc the first time I wrote her I pictured her showing up at Seb’s door step at age 14/15 angry, a troubled kid who mirrored teen seb a lot bc essentially that is when I pictured he accidentally conceived her & bc he was a kid himself he ran & didn’t look back bc he was terrified he would be an awful father. & honestly given what he went through who could blame him? (Or ether he just never knew she even existed until then lmao, couldn’t decide which I preferred bc the latter was hilarious to me at the time)

anyway in that AU he’s confronted with a lot of the shit he had to face a lone through this kid he has to form a relationship with & he heals through that a bit. But that was really the first time Astrid Moran ever came to exist.

In most of the dad Seb AUs I’ve done he’s raised her as an adult since birth but in any AU, he’s just the complete opposite of his own father bc I like to think that even though he probably does have a lot of issues still, he can be impulsive & have a bit of a temper, he can do his best to not scar his kids the way he was scared & just tries to blow off steam when he’s out murdering for his boss instead of blowing at a toddler for pouring syrup on his shoe or something (which he would never do regardless bc Seb’s always been soft in my head, like really, truly soft. Deep down. Like he’s never lost that little five year old persona who kept a piece of the mischievousness, curiosity, play & love that kid naturally had before losing Alex at age 6.) but that view is mostly for modern Seb.

for Victorian Seb is a bit trickier for me personally anyway bc I love soft seb so much but I base off Vic seb mostly off The Hound of the D’urbersvilles the most in terms of personality & that mother fucker was FUNNY. But the bitch had major Anger, addiction & a whole slue of issues I can’t possibly try to replicate, specially towards a child bc I would only turn him into Augustus in a way & I don’t want that for Seb. So I do make him a little soft, but to make thighs more tense for him & easier for me to write that rougher Sebastian I decided his child, my OC Dorian Moran is a biracial child seb gets stuck with after he does what he does abroad, but before he can run away like he always does Dorian’s mom dies during child birth & Seb, well he has to take DAMN RESPONSIBILITY for once. (Wrote a whole fickler for this LMAO https://teenbasher.tumblr.com/post/184379231091/bloods-thicker <- read here if you want )

Victorian Seb is harder for me in this regard bc his personality is definitely vile & abusive but even then he stands for his child a bit more than his own dad ever did for him, at least he learns to with time, even though at the beginning he is absolutely awful to him. Bc let’s face it, seb is not a patient or kid man. So dealing with a toddler is very hard for him. But despite how much he dislikes his kid & how mean he can be towards him. I like to think that seb does care for him & despite everything, he invests in Dorian’s care having a nanny for him & eventually possibly having Moriarty help him tutor the boy ( since ya know he essentially lives with the man, & yeah a brothel is not the best place to raise a kid, but he’s trying, right?) & I like to also think that at least once in his life Sebastian stands up to someone discriminating against Dorian, perhaps bc of his race or his ilegitimen status, & maybe when Dorian is older & Seb has become more fond of him bc he learns to see him as his son & recognizes quirks maybe he had in his youth & generally learns to love Dorian as the son & human being he is. At some point Seb has to come around & at least show Dorian once that he got his back. Like damn.

anyway this think pice went wildly longer than I planned bc I originally just wanted to state abt how Astrid was mostly a Modern OC while Dorian was Victorina but I went too into thought about Dorian bc I love him & I feel bad I haven’t spent more time developing his character & relationship with Seb (ooooh!! Specially bc I think it would be nice & a total slap on the face to Seb if Moriarty offered to educate the boy. Not only in maths & science & all of the academia, but as an heir of sorts, teaching him the other side of the business eventually, bc think about it, who the fuck is going to suspect a biracial lad in Victorian England runs a world wide criminal empire after the very napoleon of Crime himself , master of disguise & perception Professor James bleeding Moriarty) not only inherit him but taught him since childhood. Plus since Seb would teach him to shoot & handle guns (as a matter of manly honor obvs & not an excuse to bond with his son) Dorian would be the whole package in terms of running Moriarty's criminal enterprise, becoming an incredibly powerful assassin.

#Rant #think piece #Head canon #sebastian Moran head canon #Dad Sebastian #victorian Sebastian Moran #Modern Sebastian Moran #Oc Astrid Moran #Oc Dorian Moran #Just me ranting over imaginary shit happening in my head 🙃

1 note · View note

xarrixii · 4 months

Text

Cinder_10 : "Rerouting" ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CW: discrimination previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▼

“You are fucking deranged,” Alph said, snapping absentmindedly. “Do you have any idea what you are actually inflicting?”

A small, white flame burned just off of Alph’s thumb.

“Do you?” Amaterasu was swirling her wine around in its glass, leaning against her office table.

“I have a much better idea than you do.”

“Do you even know his real name? He doesn’t know yours.”

Alph paused, glaring at their mother’s well-kept masquerade. They didn’t reply, closing the fire in their hand along with a clenched fist.

“Alph, be honest with me.”

“His name is Harlow, and he’s not the useless piece of shit you seem to think he is. What kind of bullshit do you think you’re actually concealing by putting him up against an electro for a time trial?”

“Every time you come to me to complain, it’s something to do with Harlow. Always ends up there. Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“What you’re doing to him is bullshit⸺”

“He’s also not you. He can express his own grievances. If he’s as capable as you keep saying, nobody would have to keep telling me so. Every D-class that tries to join up gets put up against an electro. I’m not targeting him, I’m trying to keep people who won’t survive out of danger.”

“Rehab is danger.”

“Is that a firsthand experience or something from the word of a person who jumped headfirst into being an uncontrollable monster? You know what crime tends to prove about rehab patients? Their word isn’t the most trustworthy.”

“You are invalidating⸺”

“The only person I am invalidating is you, Alph. Ever since you got here, it has been Harlow this, Harlow that. Don’t bother lying to me. You investigated him when he was thirteen. I have eyes everywhere. Especially in the pyrokinetic rehab clinics, scouting for talent. Harlow was never scouted.”

“I⸺”

“Not even you trusted him. So I’d like you to stop treating him as some sort of idol you must speak for. From what I see, he knows there’s no point showing his opinions about me and the way I’m running this place. The way I try to keep him out of it. You don’t seem to understand that. Unless you have something else to talk about, I’d like you to get the fuck out of my office.”

Alph’s entire hand coated itself in white fire as they took a step forward, unconsciously getting into a stance against their mother. “You are so hung up on letters and summoning you fail to realize the true capabilities of someone without it.”

The fire pounded out, enveloping the entire room with one flick of Amaterasu’s hand. Pain resonated through Alph’s fist, flame being forced elsewhere.

“Let me make this clear. I don’t need wit. Wit does not win a battle against ruthless murderers. Kinetics do. If your little friend doesn’t have access to fire, he is lost. Nothing. Panicking. I saw the way he derailed on that floor yesterday. He lost his fucking shit. Sometimes he’ll be perfectly fine, other times he breaks down, unable to do anything. Powerless against himself. I know why he got sent to rehab in the first place. You do not. His kinetic is a hazard he hasn’t controlled yet. He will pass the exam, continue to fail, or get sent to rehab. This is not a choice. It is a matter of ability. Get out of my goddamn office.”

They slammed the door on their way out. Jabbed the elevator wall.

Alph threw a fist into the elevator door just before it opened on the garage level. Their mother, Cinder. It was just another system oppressing people like Urban. He can express his own grievances.

They hopped into their truck and just started driving. Let instinct take them somewhere.

It was a race Alph had talked about for months. They slammed their hand onto the horn, broken. Urban had advocated for it after the first few times, insistent that Alph’s pent-up frustration couldn’t keep bothering strangers just trying to get around.

“Y’know, you two really make me think Amaterasu actually made a mistake for once. Not that I’m saying she doesn’t make those often, this is just one of those… how should I put it?” Alph slams on the brake and whips their head around to Liam munching on a bagel in the backseat. “Right, one of those mistakes that’s going to get Cinder into a whole lot of trouble.”

“When the hell did you get here?”

“Kid, you really should be more aware of your surroundings. You’re a part of Cinder now. Those run-down organizations we suppress don’t play fair. You gotta start paying attention.”

Alph does nothing but glare at Liam. Someone honks behind them and they kick back into gear again.

“She’s right, y’know. Urban is his own dude with his own voice. It’s not your problem until he asks you to step in. Which he hasn’t, ever. I am correct on that assumption?”

“Shut up.”

“Conversations are two-way, mate. You gotta put some effort into this too.”

“Get out.”

“This is a moving vehicle.”

“When has that stopped you before?”

Liam chuckles. “There we go. Some nice critical thinking. Look, kid, since Urban’s not really in Cinder yet, he’s not my problem. You are my only problem. Only person I have to supervise. I can’t just leave you alone to go spreading out Cinder secrets, can I?”

“It’s definitely an option. I just⸺ I need some time to chill out.”

“There won’t always be a race in a good ten minutes from when you need to calm down. You can’t just grab some hotwheels in your future job when the kid’s a little piece of shit. Think of Cinder as the training program you’ve always wanted and never got because the law makes things less fun.”

“That is one of the worst ways I could think about it.”

“Yeah, but you are.”

“Get out of my head.”

“Fair enough. Look — keep me along for the ride, and we can talk less about your shortcomings and more about improving them. Sound good?”

“You’re not good with negotiating.”

“Neither are you.”

“I’m just not good negotiating with kids.”

“My mistake.” Liam finishes off the bagel and climbs into the passenger.

Alph pulls into the starting lot for the race, digging through their glovebox for the ticket of admission they’d won in a bet. The conclusion was that Alph could most definitely drive a motorcycle on one wheel for at least ten seconds.

“Name?”

“Raiden,” they replied, still digging for the ticket.

“And that is spelled…”

“Like the video game character. Original comic version.”

The person was silent for a few seconds before crossing their arms. “If you’re not meant to be here, then get out.”

Alph finally found the ticket, shutting the glovebox with a snap as they offered it to the man. The name ‘Derrick Striker’ was crossed out in pen, ‘Raiden’ written to the side. The man frowned. “I won a bet. Come on.”

Hesitantly, they took the ticket, slapped a sticker onto the truck, and moved on.

“He reminds me of my brother. Always carrying a clipboard. Never writing anything important on it. Always knows where the nearest whiteboard is.”

“Sometimes I think you were genetically modified to be as annoying as possible.” Alph pulls forward to line up against the other parked vehicles.

“You fit that description more than I ever will.”

Alph opened their mouth, then decided they would rather not know. “It’s a motorcycle thing. Can’t bring you. End is at the bottom of Vancouver Hotel. Really tall fancy place. See ya later.”

They pat Liam on the shoulder, turning off the truck and hopping out, grabbing a helmet from the bed and tossing it on as they walked away to get on one of the motorcycles. Alph could have bet against any of these guys, but Derrick’s bike was lime green.

Which roughly translates to “perfect.”

Everyone took off at the gunshot before Alph had fully gotten on the bike, and that wouldn’t stop them anywhere.

“You cheating asshole! There’s no way you remembered those routes!”

“We all had the same amount of time to study the maps.”

“Load of shit. Only thing you know how to do is drive a fucking car. Hands up, Momma’s boy!”

Harlow had been one of the only three volunteers to help break up situations just like this. It was an inevitable factor of these things. With a deep sigh, he strolled over and held up a hand.

“No, we are not doing this shit here. There are plenty of perfectly wonderful rings to cock it out in the red-light.” The angrier one, in an orange helmet, hated that.

He just bit his lip. Raiden said they would be here, and they’d never shown up.

The one in the purple helmet, a lot calmer, turned and began walking away.

“Hey, get the fuck back here!” The one with the orange helmet shoved past Harlow’s arm, so he quickly yanked their wrist back.

“Break it up.”

“Get your expensive coat out of my face. What’re you gonna do, huh? Cry for Daddy’s money to help you?”

Harlow’s grip tightened. There hadn’t been any time to change the getup. He instead stared at the angry driver as they tried to pull their arm away. Before, of course, they decided to use their free hand to take a swing toward him.

He ducked, freeing the guy’s arm, taking out his lighter as he trips the guy. They fall face-first to the floor. Fire blooms in his hand as the guy rolls. The one with the purple helmet had turned back around to watch.

“So you’re just a filthy pyrokinetic? No wonder you need those clothes!”

Laughing erupts from the guy, and they end up throwing off the helmet in order to breathe. Not many other people found it very funny.

Harlow clicks out the fire and walks away. It’s not worth it. The fight’s over.

When he heard the footsteps, he allowed the lighter to open again. Stopped walking, turned back around to see the guy’s face.

“Too afraid to admit you’re a monster?”

“I’m sorry that your ego is in the clouds?” Harlow watches their face contort. He was thankful people were all worrying about their own thing. He clicks out the lighter again. This person couldn’t do anything if they tried.

Their failure to approach when Harlow went to break up the next fight was all that mattered. Every bit of confirmation.

He wasn’t very good at breaking up fights. He was good at redirecting them, focusing peoples’ anger elsewhere.

“Mommy and Daddy will just buy you out of rehab anyway, hit me!”

Go ahead, Harlow told himself. Sling words. Anything that helps you feel better.

The water that scraped by his hand was likely the thing he had least expected. Blood dripped onto the concrete. Splash landed deep next to someone’s foot as they spoke to a blonde guy.

Upon short realization, a guy in a lime helmet and Liam. Who promptly threw off the helmet when they turned to figure out what the sound had been. “Urban⸺”

The lighter was open in a heartbeat. A slate of water evaporating in the next. Fire gently returning to the small source flame.

“It’s not worth it, Raiden. Probably just wasted all of their canteen.”

They’d immediately went to find Liam. That explained it. His relief was unbelievable. The shortcut routes had been purposely prepared to stave off anyone not good enough to traverse them.

As he tucked the lighter away, he made sure to keep his middle and ring fingers together.

The guy with the purple helmet was still looking at the scene. People had mostly dispersed by now. They could leave. Harlow started walking away, Raiden and Liam following after only a few moments.

Once Harlow got around the corner, out of sight from the guy with the purple helmet, he took a deep breath and fell to his knees.

“I was going to warn you, but from the way you kept avoiding the confrontation, I got the hint you knew.” Liam tucked his hands in his pockets. “Good signal, by the way. Raiden here was about to erupt on the fucker. Poor guy would never make it in any field the kinetic would provide any use for.”

“Shut up, Liam.” Harlow took a heavy swallow as Raiden helped him back up.

“I’m just⸺”

“Shut up, Liam,” Raiden snapped. “Where’d you park my truck down here?”

“If I tell you, will you let me tell you a story about how fun telepathy is sometimes?”

“Sure. Go for it.”

“This way. Now, I must say, you normally cannot do things like this. That’s why it’s so spectacular. I made a guy think his peck was Jesus once.”

“What?” Raiden’s hidden interest was shown plainly.

“In some corner of this guy’s mind, he actually thought that…”

Harlow tuned out, focusing on putting pressure on his hand.

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

debated whether or not to add the harlow portion now or later. decided "fuck it, i wrote it, so why not"

if i regret it later that's on me gamers ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#fiction #original story #original characters #magic #dystopian #fantasy #angst #me when i've already written the next three chapters and still refuse to post them because that's not the mood rn

1 note · View note