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huntertales · 3 years

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Part Three: There’s Some Things You Can’t Fix. (Heaven Can’t Wait S09E06)

Episode Summary: When Dean gets a call from Castiel about a possible case dealing with spontaneous human combustion, the older Winchester decides to investigate–on his own. The reader decides to tag along. She doesn’t take no for an answer when Dean shares his odd hesitations on letting her work on a hunt with Castiel. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,502.

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Cas watched from the passenger side window as Nora’s house slowly pulled up into view. The knot in the pit of his stomach began to tighten at how time was slipping by quicker than he anticipated to the big moment. His very first date. At first he was unsure of the proper reason why his palms felt so sweaty and his stomach started to feel strange. It wasn’t quite queasy like the time he ate some bad food when he was homeless and was forced to survive off of scraps he found in the dumpster. But he didn’t quite feel up to his normal self. When he told you and Dean about his sudden symptoms, your shared reactions weren’t ones he was expected. The man rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion while you laughed it off.

He didn’t understand what was so funny about what he said. Cas was genuinely worried there was something wrong with him, maybe he caught something from a customer and he only began to notice it now. He thought it was enough concern to cancel his date, in fear he might get Nora sick as well. She never missed a day of work since he started there. Humans were infamously notorious for catching all sorts of viruses and diseases. What he was feeling wasn't a stomach bug, it was something vastly different. Cas should've learned by now that emotions can change how a person feels psychically.

"It's like butterflies in your stomach. You're excited, but you feel like you're about to pass out from nervousness." You explained almost perfectly about how Cas was feeling at the moment. "It's how I used to feel whenever Dean was around before we got together. When you're finding your feelings for someone, it gets...complicated.”

"But I'm not in love with Nora." Cas said. He started to grow even more confused at how truly complicated it was to be a human. There were so many more things than keeping after yourself. Not that relationships and emotions were strange territory, there was just so much more out there he never experienced before. He realized he was only just beginning to learn what it was all like. "At least, I don't think so."

"It's most likely just last minute nerves. Maybe even a little crush. No need to go on proposing to her during dessert." You reassured the man. "Just go in there and be yourself."

"Okay." Cas inhaled a deep breath to try and calm his nerves before placing a hand on the passenger side door. "Thanks, Dean."

"Cas, wait. I can't let you do this." Dean managed to stop the other man before he made a grave himself. Cas sat with his foot standing on the pavement and the car door opened a few inches. The poor guy thought Dean was going to try and stop him from meeting up with Nora, thinking it was a bad idea after all. But that wasn't the cause of concern for Dean. He was looking out for his friend. His attention was focused on the tacky blue vest Cas was still wearing. "You're gonna wear that on a date?"

Cas put his foot back into the car and shut the door again, having a feeling there was something Dean was hinting around. First impressions were everything. Cas wanted to make the very best. He glanced down at his clothes to see what the problem might be. He always kept a tidy appearance. There was not a single stain on his outfit, maybe a piece of lint he overlooked. He didn't understand what the problem was, or how he could fix it.

“This is all I have, Dean.” Cas confessed.

"You know, Dean is right. Uh...we don't have time for you to change." You thought to yourself for a moment about what Cas could do to try and spruce up his appearance a bit better. You should've forced Dean to let Cas borrow some of his clothes. But you would just have to work with what you had. You tilted your head to the side and bit your lip for a brief second to try and think. "Okay. Lose the vest."

“What are you—”

"Lose the vest. Come on. Fork it over." You stopped Cas from trying to put up a fight about the stupid article of clothing. Thankfully he complied and handed over the bulk of fabric over to you from the front seat. "That's a little better. And now your buttons—why don't you unbutton it?”

Sometimes Cas took things a little too literal. The man started to undo the first two buttons of his shirt like you suggested, but kept going with a third one and almost undid another before Dean stopped him. "That's far enough, Tony Manero. Save the strip tease for Nora."

"All right. Let me take a look." You leaned forward in your seat to try and get a better look at Cas with his slightly new appearance. You took a few seconds before you deemed him good enough to head off on his date. "Yeah. Good.”

"Listen to me. There's a few things you need to know." Dean felt the need to give the man some advice if he wasn't to make a fool of himself, more than he probably already would. "Always open the door for her, okay? Ask a lot of questions. They like that. And...oh, if she's happy to go dutch, she's lying."

"Okay, that's enough." You interrupted the man before he could give anymore unsolicited information that might hurt Cas more than help. You lightly slapped a hand on Cas' shoulder and offered a supportive smile. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Cas inhaled a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart before finally gathering the courage to open up the passenger side door again and step out. You and Dean watched as he finally made his way to Nora's front door, finding this situation sort of like dropping off your kid on their first date. There was a sort of innocence and adorable factor that made you smile. Dean offered a supportive thumbs up when Cas stopped at the closed front gate and looked over his shoulder to see the both of you were still there. Cas returned the gesture before opening up the gate and continued heading toward the house.

You smiled to yourself when Cas managed to make it to the front door without backing out. He adjusted his appearance one more time to make sure he looked presentable and reached a fist up to knock on the door. However he stopped when he realized something. Wasn't it customary to bring dates flowers as a romantic token? What if she was expecting them? Before he could begin to panic, luck seemed to have been on his side tonight.

Cas spotted a blooming rose bush conveniently right next to the porch. He remembered Nora saying about how she liked gardening in her free time. Red roses were also a symbol of love. He found a pair of clippers and snipped himself a single rose, Nora wouldn't know the difference. Dean snickered to himself when Cas’ small touch he added on his own caused the poor man to prick his fingers when he cut the single flower off. It seemed Cas might not be doomed after all.

"I think it's our cue to leave." You said. You slipped out from the backseat and back into the passenger side when you saw Cas waving you off, wanting you both to get out of here before Nora realized he was here. You smiled at the sight. "Our boy's all grown up."

You waved back at Cas as Dean turned the engine back on before either one of you could embarrass your friend in front of his date. However before Dean could pull away from the curb, he swiftly put his foot on the brake when he saw a truck start backing up when it seemed to have come out of nowhere. Dean slowly started to grow frustrated when the car started to get dangerously close to the Impala. Before there could be an accident, he managed to get the driver's attention. You waved one final time at Cas before the Impala drove off down the street and into the night, all before disappearing from sight.

+ + +

A few minutes into driving after dropping off Cas on his date, the silence that fell over the car was interrupted by your phone going off. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to who might be trying to get in contact with you. You partially hoped it wasn't Cas. Things couldn't have gone south that quickly. When you spotted the name on the I.D. of the sheriff you had been working on the case with together, you answered it after the third ring.

"Now, here's a wrinkle. Our first crime scene, the married couple? Full analysis of the spray came in from the lab." The sheriff got a strange lead that he thought you might want to hear about that benefited both parties. And it cut down on the list of suspects to just one possible lead. "Turns out it only contains the wife's DNA."

"The husband's still out there." You mumbled, connecting the dots on your own. You thanked the sheriff for the tip before ending the call. You turned your gaze over to Dean, who had been trying to split his attention from you and the road. "We got to go by the police station. I think I know who’s behind all of this.”

+ + +

Figuring out the face to the angel who was causing all of these deaths was only part of the puzzle you needed to solve in order to wrap up this hunt before someone else could get hurt. You and Dean stopped by the station to have a talk with the sheriff to hear out what else he had found out from the new lead. You looked through the documents of the wife's death certificate and the typed up police file about the actual reported crime, hoping to find something that might help pinpoint a direction to help you solve this hunt once and for all.

"He was already a bit screwy, but then he found religion. She was a hard-line atheist, no peach herself. When he got himself obsessed with this Buddy Boyle whack job, an already bad marriage got worse." The sheriff went on about the couple that landed with the wife dead, and the husband still missing. You scoffed ever so quietly to yourself at the familiar sounding name. It all was starting to make sense now of how this mess came to be. "Kept telling her to 'let God in.'"

"Buddy Boyle." Dean repeated the name of a preacher he heard before. You glanced up from the documents and rolled your eyes from the trouble he was causing you lately on an already crappy situation that was spiraling out of control."That explains it."

“Explains what?” The sheriff asked, feeling out of the loop from what the man was talking about.

"Nevermind. Uh, let's see." You focused your attention back to the documents as you shuffled around the papers to try and find something actually useful. You stumbled upon a photograph that made you do a double take of the happy couple. You pointed a finger to the vehicle in the background. "Is that his truck?"

"Yep." The sheriff casually answered.

You remembered where you saw the truck before, right when you were leaving Nora's house, the one that nearly backed into the Impala. You and Dean shared the same worried expression, coming to the possible conclusion to the worst possible outcome. Cas was in danger. If you and Dean weren't quick enough to get back to him, he might be next.

+ + +

Trying to understand how a human deals with the influx of emotions was a complicated and difficult thing without experiencing what it was like to be one first hand, and even then it was still confusing. The smallest and kindest gesture can make someone burst with happiness, while a slight inconvenience can ruin one’s day. Cas learned slowly over time that he was just like everyone else on this planet. Nothing special without his grace, living day to day just trying to survive. And while it might seem depressing and bleak at times, it wasn't always like that. Cas learned that life wasn’t so bad being a measly human. But his brother didn’t want to see past the pain.

His brother wanted to fix these humans and make the world a better place like he did in heaven, the place that was no longer. All the angel could feel was the endless sorrow in the world. An endless melody that called out to him, begging for relief. Cas was calling to him the loudest. The man might have been warded from all angels, but his pain was like a beacon shining down on him. It made him stick out like a sore thumb for his brother to find him and put the poor human out of his misery once and for all. But Cas wasn’t a feeble creature. He might have been without his grace to protect himself, he still had some tricks up his sleeve to keep himself alive long enough for his friends to come to his aid.

The backdoor to Nora’s house burst open without warning, causing the conversation between Cas and his brother about his life choices to be mometairly paused, the angel wondering who was trying to ruin a special moment. It seemed you and Dean figured out on your own who was to blame for the recent deaths around town. The both of you came charging in with your angel blade in hand swinging up in the air, but you were no match against the more powerful being who easily flung you across the room.

Dean landed roughly against the wall and into some of the baby's things, none of which broke his fall. You slid across the floor and into a dining room chair that caused you to hit your head against the wood. The blow was enough for you to forget for a moment about the blade. You tried brushing off the pain and placed the hand that had been holding the weapon to your now throbbing head. When the pain subsided enough for you to open up your eyes and figure out where the angel might have gone, you noticed his attention drifted away from Cas and to you for some reason. A bad feeling settled into your stomach at the way he was just staring...observing you.

“What happened to you?” The angel whispered to only felt himself. You propped yourself up on your elbows as you stared up at the angel, wondering what kind of pain you must be giving off. Your life has been filled with nothing but misery and pain. But it was a pain that you couldn't see yourself. "The sorrow you're going through, it's strong. Stronger than I've felt with most. The guilt is the worst of all, isn’t it?”

Your expression shifted into a hardened expression at the things he was saying. You tried to play dumb, hoping you might be able to buy yourself some time while you figured out how to get out of this. "What the hell are you talking about?”

“You humans try so hard to hide the pain, but I can see it so clearly. You’re suffering. All of you are.” The angel went on without going into proper details about the sort of pain you were feeling at the moment. The kind that you buried deep underneath the surface for no one to see, not even yourself. A sort of sympathetic smile crossed his face at the trauma he felt off of you. "You're denying yourself the truth.”

Dean used the angel’s distraction as a way to get the upper hand and finish this before anyone else died at the hands of unwanted mercy, or to spill any secrets that needed to remain buried deep down. He slid the blade across the floor and over to Cas, who swiftly grabbed the weapon and did what needed to be done. Killing any of his siblings never got any easier. Whenever he was forced to kill one of his siblings, it never got any easier when the numbers of their kind dwindled over the years from war and tragedy. But he couldn’t let his brother keep going on this path, there would be no end to his mercy. You quickly shielded your eyes from the sudden burst of white light when Cas plunged the blade into the angel’s chest, ending his brother's mercy killing with one of his own.

+ + +

Turns out Cas’ evening plans turned into an accidental miscommunication between Nora and himself. She was going on a date—just not with him. Cas spent the night with Tanya, Nora’s infant daughter who was now peacefully sleeping after the commotion that went down in the kitchen not too far from her nursery. While Dean took a call from his brother outside, you helped Cas tidy things up and take care of the baby’s fever that was starting to worry him. With his grace gone, Cas couldn’t fix humans anymore with a simple touch to the forehead. Luckily for him, you had a few tricks up your sleeve to help.

“It’s probably because she’s teething. An easy fix.” You explained to him. You spotted a few teeth poking through the baby’s gums when she let out a yawn at how she was being kept up past her bedtime. “Why don’t you go to the medicine cabinet and see if there’s any baby aspirin? That should do the trick.”

You took Tanya out of Cas’ arms without an ounce of hesitation and began to slowly rock her back and forth when she started to grow fussy. You occupied the baby while Cas departed to the bathroom to hunt down the medicine you told him to get. He came back a minute later to see you softly cooing at the baby with smiling praises of how adorable she was. Despite never having had a child of your own, and the loss of one, you fell into the motherly figure naturally. You were a caregiver to him and the boys, even to strangers you never met before. The sight of you holding Tanya made his heart break.

When you saw the man was back with the medicine, you grabbed the medicine and proceeded to read the instructions that would bring the fever right down. Cas continued to watch as you handled Tanya with ease, acting naturally as she was your own. He realized that this was both of yours first moment alone together since everything happened unfolded and him leaving the bunker. There was so much he wanted to say to you.

“You’re very good with her.” Cas wasn’t sure if what he said was the right thing. It had only been a short time ago since everything unfolded. Wounds such you had dealt with might still be sore. And what his brother had said about you burying it deep down was something you would most likely do. Sometimes that wasn’t healthy. Humans need to talk about their problems, or at least give people who they loved reassurance they weren’t dealing with these problems alone. A small smile crossed your face at the compliment. “I...I also wanted to apologize to you.”

Your face scrunched up slightly in confusion at the sudden shift in conversation topic. “What for?”

“For not being there for you when you needed me the most. If I learned anything about being a human from you and the Winchesters, it’s that you’re there for the people you care about in crisis.” Cas said. “Dean called me from the hospital and told me what happened after you stopped doing the trials. It’s...I wish I was there.”

You fell silent for a moment as your expression shifted into one that made Cas suddenly regret bringing it up in the first place. You put Tanya down back into her crib and turned back to him. A heavy sigh fell from your lips at what you were about to admit.

“Don’t tell Dean, but...I guess there was some truth to what the angel said back there. I’ve been beating myself up about it for weeks now about what happened. Sometimes I lie in bed and think about what it might be like if things turned a bit differently.” You said. You turned your attention to the sleeping Tanya and smiled to yourself for a brief second about how adorable she looked. “But feeling guilty over it won’t change the past. We can’t change anything about what we did. That’s something you’re going to learn pretty quickly about being human. All we can do is keep moving forward and make best with what we got, not what we lost.”

Cas listened to your words of advice and nodded his head. He was starting to understand that no matter who he was, angel or human, no one was perfect. Mistakes were going to be made. It was just the nature of living. “You know, you don’t make such a bad human, after all.” Your compliment to the man made him chuckle for the first time tonight.

You made your way to the door when Tanya's quiet snores came from the crib. Cas felt the need to return your compliment with one of his own. "If you ever are given the chance to be a mother, I think you would be perfect." He said. "You're a kind person, Y/N. You deserve the happiness that you seek. It might not come soon...but hopefully one day."

“Thanks, Cas.” You mumbled. You didn't know why, but the thought of becoming a mother made you suddenly grow a little bit sad at the prospect you might not have all of this. You talked about how you thought you never would or want to have a child, but deep down, you were lying to yourself. It was a bitter sadness that you buried deep down. You looked over at the crib and let out a quiet sigh. "That means a lot."

Back outside with Dean, his conversation with his brother was turning out to be less comforting than the one you had with Cas. He leaned against the hood of the Impala and listened to the night he had with Kevin and Crowley, hoping there might have been some good news sprinkled in there somewhere. It turned out to be the worst outcome Dean could think of. He took the truth Crowley gave his brother with a grain of salt. The demon had been less helpful to them in the past without getting something out of them. Dean highly doubted the self isolation treatment the demon was being given softened him up. Sam was confident Crowley was telling the truth.

"No, Dean, not this time." Sam told his brother the hard truth all of you were going to have to come to terms with. "Look, Metatron built the spell to withstand any attempt to reverse it. There is no putting the angels back in heaven. It's done.”

The older Winchester let out a heavy sigh from what this news meant for someone. He finished up the call with his brother the exact moment you accidentally spooked him when you placed a hand on his arm. You smiled at his reaction before it slowly faltered at the sight of his face. Dean told you the same news Sam had given him over the phone about the mess that seemed to be unfixable. Your mind immediately went to the one person who was going to handle it the hardest, and who it affected the most. "Are you gonna tell Cas?"

The poor guy already was beating himself up badly about the situation that he caused, and all he wanted to do was undo his mistakes. But it seemed there was no way of putting things back together the way it once was. There were just some problems you couldn't fix. Out of anyone, you understood that the most.

+ + +

Every part of you wanted to keep Cas around and offer him a chance to have a proper place to call his home back at the bunker. But there were circumstances you would eventually learn that kept him from doing so. For now you remained in the dark about the reason why, thinking it was Cas’ personal choice to do as such. Cas had made a life of his own in this little town and seemed to be enjoying himself. It was just how it was going to be for now until things got better. if that was even possible anymore.

The final stop for Cas was back at the convenience store before his shift started. You conveniently excused yourself for a quick pit stop to the restroom before you and Dean headed back on the road to the bunker. It gave Dean a perfect chance to have a conversation with his friend about how things had to be.

"Listen, Cas, back at the bunker, I'm sorry I told you to go." Dean started off with an apology that felt like it needed to be said. "I know it's been hard on you, you know, on your own. Somehow you're adapting. I know Y/N's been worried about you, but it makes her happy seeing you do good. And, honestly, I'm proud of you."

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas said. Hearing words of encouragement from his friends brought a small ounce of happiness to him, but it only lasted for a short while, something else was weighing heavy on his mind that felt he needed to discuss. He glanced out the window before back to the hunter. "But there's something Ephraim said. The angels--they need help. Can I really sit this one out? Shouldn't I be searching for a way to get them home?"

"Don't worry. Me, Y/N and Sam, we'll take care of the angels." Dean reassured his friend, releasing him of the burden. "You're human now. It's not your problem anymore."

Dean never got around to telling Cas the information Sam told him. He should've. It was probably the right thing to do. But he couldn't get himself to do that, not to the poor guy who was already feeling down. He didn't lie, he just glossed over the truth. Refrained from giving all of the truth. It was becoming a habit lately with him—not telling the whole truth. Dean kept telling himself it was for the best.

He forgot that the truth will always come out. There was no lie or feeling that a person can bury deep enough to keep it from seeing the light. Eventually it was going to come back and haunt him.

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love // @that-winged-rat

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

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this may sound strange but hear me out — while in the scorch thomas and the crew come across the reader who is a crank whose like full crankified but they’re aware. 👁👄👁 hopefully I make sense but yeah!

Makes sense to me! I think...hopefully I interpreted "self aware" by how (if you've seen Warm Bodies) the main character is a zombie that's aware, but still has those zombie urges an' stuff. That's how I'm writing the reader at least. Hope you enjoy! 😊

Possible trigger warning: being a Crank is v depressing

~~~~~~~~~~

How did it come to this?

How did I get here?

My life was fine...it was. I was happyish in the Glade, but then I was stupid enough to follow Thomas. We did escape, but I was left behind. Just another Glader left for dead.

I thought I would die, but unfortunately I’m still here, in a fate worse than death.

I didn’t think I’d get the so called Flare virus, I would’ve hoped I died of natural causes first. But not me, just my fuckin’ luck.

I’m just stuck in this body that doesn’t even feel like my own anymore. I’m not even in control, well, I am, but I can’t control these strong impulses to kill.

I wish I wasn’t here. I wish someone would just kill me and put me out of my misery. Anything would be better than being an uncontrollable monster, even if there’s nothing on the other side.

Please, someone...kill me...

Of course, nobody answered your prayers, you were doomed to roam the Scorch as a Crank.

You walked countless miles across the desert, but when you reached the W.C.K.D. facility, it’s like you had a gut feeling that you shouldn’t go near the building.

But you stayed in the vicinity. You had no idea why. Why would a Crank ever feel compelled to stay near an area they’d never been? Why would a Crank feel the need to wait?

And yet, that gut feeling you had was right. One night, the doors opened and a bunch of familiar faces ran out into the sandstorm.

Even as a Crank, you recognized those kids. They were once your friends. best friends, the only friends you remembered having.

You tried to will yourself not to follow their silhouetted figures running from the facility, but your legs moved with theirs, following them across the yellow sanded desert shrouded in darkness by the night sky.

No, please...I don’t want to hurt them...

Your mind’s plea didn’t connect to your body movements, you were headed right for them and you had no control.

Thomas and the others made it out of W.C.K.D., Teresa leading the boys into an abandoned building out of the sandstorm. They decided to look for any sign of the Right Arm, or just survivors in general.

Thomas and Minho separated from the group to find a light source. But as the boys got closer and closer to the end of the wires they were following, the rotten stench of death filled their nostrils as they walked.

Thomas and Minho only gave each other silent looks of concern as they suddenly heard soft groans coming from across the room they were currently in. And like the brave idiots they are, they stepped forward to take a closer look.

Turning on the generator to light up the building, the two boys almost dropped their flashlights once they realized where the smell was coming from.

You stood at the other side of the room, the only movements they could decipher from you was your heavy labored breathing and the twitching of your hands.

You saw how horrified they looked, seeing you as a monster, you didn’t blame them. You knew you must’ve looked god awful.

You wanted to say something, anything. But you had to focus on not charging at them, so all you could do was stare at them with your cold dead eyes. “Y/N...” Thomas voiced softly.

“I guess we know what happened to her after all.” Minho said grimly.

They had no idea what to do. They’d never come across an actual Crank before, so seeing you that way was awful.

“Can...can you say something?”

“Thomas, this isn’t like what happened to Ben. She’s gone.”

You were starting to lose control again, you itched to run at them, tear them apart with your rotting teeth, rip out their throats...it was an all consuming desire. You let out painful groan.

“Thomas, we should leave. There’s nothing we can do.”

Thomas and Minho screamed out when a loud inhuman screech came from your voice. “We can’t just leave her like this!”

“Well, we can’t stay and let her kill us!”

You twitched violently, what little control you had left your body and you couldn’t help yourself. You charged forward, quickly tackling Minho to the ground as Thomas looked on in shock.

You felt so helpless as you saw Minho’s terrified and sad face beneath you. You were unrecognizable as you tried to bite his face. In a split second, Minho didn’t know what to do. You were once his friend, how could he even kill you? But thankfully, Thomas quickly sprung into action, kicking you off of Minho and dragging him away, but you pursued.

Your pursuit after your two friends caused a chain reaction of other Cranks to chase after them. You wanted to cry, you were the reason they might be killed. You wished Minho or Thomas would’ve killed you when they had the chance, then maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

After the boys screamed out to the others to run, they all ran to leave the building, but you and your fellow Cranks followed.

Please, get out of here alive...your mind called out loudly, the plea so loud it echoed in your brain the entire time your body followed the crowd without your permission. You just wanted your friends to make it out safely.

Seeing your friends do a double take when you showed up at the front of the crowd of Cranks, trying to kill them, was heartbreaking for both you and them.

You tried, you tried so hard to stop yourself, but even clawing at Winston wasn’t enough to snap out of it. You clawed into him so roughly that the group pulled you through the door along with him.

You heard everyone talking over each other about what to do, one was crying, one kept encouraging for your second death.

By that point, you were already pulled off Winston, Minho and Frypan holding you back as you tried to claw and bite out of their grasp. You saw Winston’s clawed open stomach...it was all your fault...

You looked up to Thomas, holding a gun that was previously held by Winston.

Do it, Thomas...please.

Thomas help up the pistol with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N...I’m sorry we couldn’t save you.” He whispered, reluctantly squeezing the trigger until a loud shot echoed through everyone’s ears.

Darkness...nothingness...but you felt no pain...

You were finally free...

~~~~~~~~~~

Geez, how dark...

Also, sorry, this took way too long to write

#the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #scorch trials #scorch trials imagine

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years

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Motion Sickness Chapter 82

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I woke up to my head feeling split open. Not my best start to a day but considering where I'd left off yesterday it was about as good as I could expect to be doing. I couldn't recall my dreams either which I took as a promising sign. Maybe Mother had laid off for once.

Yeah right. And maybe pigs will fly.

She'd probably attacked me as ferociously as she ever could if she knew I'd met my sisters yesterday. I remembered so much.

Digging up worms with Iris before a fishing trip.

Fake .

A family photo with me surrounded by my energetic sisters. Lily smiling and upside down on the couch for the photo. My eyes rolled for the camera.

Fake.

Playing huntsman in the woods near my home with Saphron. I used a small stick as a small imaginary sword to fight off pretend Grimm.

Fake.

Kolumbine and Juniper teasing me over my first crush. A wispy girl I could hardly remember from back home.

Fake.

Home. Where even was home for me? I remembered it as a lone tall house in a small woods but where had it been? What was the name of the town it had been a part of? I couldn't remember. Had it been anywhere at all? Or was it all fake pressure from my Mother to help me along the way to losing my mind? A gatekeeper to my madness.

I stood from my bed and took my morning medications. I swallowed them down my dry throat without any water. I tried to shake off what I knew were incomplete memories but I couldn't. I remembered so much and so little at the same time. The same few frames replaying over and over in my head, there was nothing I could do to escape my wrathful memories of peaceful times.

I felt like a bug on a leaf. So unsteady. So uncertain. Ready to be swatted down at a moment's notice. I felt like hardly anything at all.

I wanted to kill something. That would make me feel better. Even if it was just Grimm. Slaying monsters would get me warmed up and ready to go. It would put me in the right mindset. Instead I settled down at my desk and pulled out my chair. I pulled out my needle for a moment and I focused on it.

Change.

I demanded of it.

Transform.

I told it.

It did neither. The needle remained a needle. And I performed no magic. I wasn't sure who Ozpin thought he was fooling. My sisters had done no magic and they would have had my Mother to teach them their entire lives. However long that was. They couldn't be older than me chronologically or biologically. They must be younger than me. They must have been grown until they were about as old as they are now give or take three years. How long I'd been alive and out of my tank for.

There came a knock at my door. A polite double tap-rap. It sounded like Weiss from my experience without even opening it. I could be wrong but it sounded like her.

I wasn't sure I wanted to see her. Or anyone. My head still ached and remembered losing my mind a little the night before. I was embarrassed by it. I was embarrassed by my own weakness. And Ruby and Weiss had seen it all unfold.

I got up anyway and left the needle behind. The frustrating fucking thing that it was. Ozpin had transformed it so easily and here I was still struggling two weeks later. I'd made no progress. None.

I opened the door to find Weiss as I suspected I would. Her blue eyes like shimmering ice and her hair not yet done up in her plait. It left it mid-back length long locks of platinum. She was beautiful.

I looked away. I was embarrassed about losing my marbles last night over my sisters.

"How are you feeling, Cloud?" She asked in a low voice. She raised an eyebrow at where I blocked the door. "Are you going to let me in?"

I was because of course I was. I stood to the side of the door frame and held the door open. She stepped inside, slippers making soft noises against the cold floor.

"I'm alright," I told her.

"You always answer that way. Even when you're doing poorly. You can tell us how you're really feeling. We won't hold it against you if you're not your usual self," she murmured. She gave me a soft reassuring smile.

I looked away and sighed. "What is my usual self? I'm feeling fragile today. I want to kill something though. I want to be violent. I feel like that's all I'm good for. Violence. I can barely stave off the memories in my head that I know are fake. I know that they're fake."

"Tell me about them." She brushed her hair back behind her head as she spoke.

"My Mother was always wearing the same white dress in every memory I have of her. And… and I don't remember my father's face. There's other inconsistencies too. Little impossibilities. I remember being teased by my sisters about my first crush when I was a small boy. Something I know is impossible. It couldn't have happened but it feels real to me. I wonder if they remember these things too but from their own perspective. I wonder how twisted Salem has made them."

"You care about them. Your sisters."

"I… I do. My feelings for them are not real, though. I've never met them. Not like I've met and gotten to know the rest of you. You and Ruby. And Blake and Yang. Even my team when they were around. When they were around."

"Your feelings are valid, Cloud."

I scoffed. A low sound. She reached out and touched my face. She had to stand up on her tiptoes to truly manage it. She forced me to look at her. I could hardly stand it. She was gorgeous even with the long scar running over one eye.

"What?" She asked. "They are. Just because Salem has you all twisted and strung out doesn't make what you feel any less true. I remember my own father's emotional manipulation. My feelings were valid then even if they were caused by him."

"Your father… will you tell me about his manipulations?" I asked. I bent low and ran my lips over hers. I threaded and held her bottom lip between my own and she let out a little sigh through her nose. I watched her eyes flutter shut and I reached my long arms around her waist and just held her close to me. She put both her small hands on my chest and let out a hum into the kiss.

"I will if you let me," she whispered when I finally broke off the kiss. "Are you going to let me?"

"Tempted to not…" I groaned.

"He brought up my mother a lot. He liked to imply that I was responsible for her drinking habits. I wasn't. She had only herself to blame for them."

"Your mother was a hard drinker?” I confirmed. I think she’d told me before but it had been a while.

"Yes, she was. Ever since I was very young. My father was sober and in control throughout most of my life. It wasn't a good thing. I wonder sometimes if my mother would have been a better parent even as a drunk. Or perhaps no one at all. At least I had my butler, Klein. He really raised me."

"Well, not to shave off your suffering, but I think you turned out pretty good. Good enough to keep," I informed her.

"You would say that," she said softly. But she had a small smile quirking her lips to let me know I scored at least a few points with her.

"How did the election go last night? I went to bed and didn't pay it any attention."

"I forgot, myself. But when I woke up this morning Robyn won her seat. She's a sitting member of the council now, with Ironwood. But there's some investigation going on into the election. Electronic voter tampering."

"Sounds like bad news for Mantle. But then what isn't in this place?"

"You're so pessimistic, my gods," she laughed at me a little. "Good thing Ruby is around to balance me out or I might join you down there. She keeps me balanced."

"It's my experience. All my recent, which is to say real memories usually involve somebody I care about dying. Or worse."

"We're here for you. So don't be all doom and gloom. You have two beautiful girlfriends."

"Little arrogant of you, don't you think."

"Please," she retorted. Swishing her hair back behind her. "I am beautiful."

"Don't forget narcissistic."

"You don't go down that road. This is the part where you agree with me. Didn't you say boyfriends agree with their smart girlfriends?"

"Hey, of course I think you're beautiful. First real crush, remember? Couldn't believe I thought I had a chance with you. Then it turns out that I did. Still can't really believe it."

"You just needed to change a little. To grow up some, lose the fake confidence and get your hands on something real."

"Change my look, too. That probably helped."

"Now who's being narcissistic."

"Please," I pushed a hand back through my hair. "I am beautiful," I managed a passable imitation of her and she beat my chest with a tiny fist in retaliation but she was giving me a sly smile.

"You don't go down that road either," she cautioned me.

"Fine. Fine. What's Ruby up to?" I asked.

"Still sleeping. I am an early riser, I wasn't sure you'd be up."

"Late to bed and early to rise? Aren't you burning your candle at both ends? And I was just up trying to turn my needle into a feather."

She shrugged. "I can't help it. It's a part of who I am. Did you have any luck?"

"Not really, no. I'm starting to doubt that I have Ozpin's brand of magic. My sisters didn't fight with it either or anything like that."

"Maybe you just need more time or more faith."

"Maybe…" I trailed. I looked down at her and she gave me an odd sort of pleading look her lips pursed out and her eyes closed. She looked scrumptious like that. I figured what she wanted and I bent down and I kissed her again while she hummed in satisfaction.

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"I never even got to drive the bike yesterday. We were attacked by Cloud's sisters," Ruby said.

"What? You were? Why is this the first I'm hearing about this?" Yang asked around the dining hall breakfast table.

"You got in late, remember? You and Blake both. We were already asleep by the time you got back," Ruby responded. "Cloud took it poorly. I thought the experience might have knocked some screws loose for him."

"You mean a few more screws loose. Cloud doesn't scream stability."

"Blake!" Weiss hissed.

"No, no," I said. "Blake's got a point."

"Well you don't have to agree with her," Weiss muttered. She shook her head at me. Plait waving slightly as she did. We'd split up and she'd gone back to her room in the early AM to get it done.

"She does though. I'm not the sanest of individuals."

"That's not your fault," Ruby told me. She reached out and stroked my arm.

"So I have more excuses than your average person. Salem's influence, the way I was grown, probably some other factors I can't think of… the list goes on." I shrugged through a bite of eggs. "Plus I think I did almost lose it yesterday. My head still hurts off of it."

"You sure that's not just because what's her name shot you in the head a couple of times?" Ruby asked.

"Saphron. And not entirely."

"How many times did you get shot exactly yesterday evening?" Blake asked.

"I forget. She was really hitting me in the head a bit. I'm not immune to headshots."

"Then she hit you with that knife…" Ruby reached out and touched my face. "She cut your cheek. You'll have a little scar there, I think."

I reached up and touched where I'd been cut next to Ruby's own fingers. There was a triangular scab on my cheek. Ruby was probably right.

"And there goes my good looks. You will be missed, we hardly knew ye."

"Oh stop it. You'll look fine," Ruby sighed exasperatedly but she smiled up at me.

"They never really got through my aura. A bit like you. You got shot yesterday too."

"I was fine." She waved off. "My aura protected me from everything but a bit of pain. Thanks though."

"A bit late for that kind of worry, isn't it?" Yang asked.

"It's the thought that counts." Ruby returned. "And Cloud was really out of it last night. He was delirious and talking about a family reunion."

I shuddered.

"A family reunion for Cloud. Get me the fuck away. His family is problems," Yang said. "No offense Cloud but your family has issues."

"I'm really the only one with issues. All my sisters seemed fine. The ones I met did at least."

"They tried to kill you," Blake pointed out. Jabbing a fork at me as she did.

"I think I'm the black sheep," I muttered. "They even seem to get along with Mother fine. No, it's just me that has a problem. I am the failure, after all."

"And your sisters are all successes?" Oscar asked. He'd been quiet in his new huntsman outfit. A suit jacket with a white undershirt and orange gloves.

I nodded.

"Well according to who? The people that made you all? Those aren't good people anyways. What would they know about being a failure or a success."

"Yeah. We're not taking a bunch of mad scientists' word on it," Ruby followed. "You're not a failure to us, Cloud."

I took a bite of banana and said nothing. They didn't really get it. I was a failure in a scientific sense. Not a moral one. I was just a prototype for those models which came later.

"Do you know your sisters' names?" Blake asked.

"Iris, Juniper, Kolumbine, Saphron, Violet, Lily, and Lavender," I told her.

"They're all flowers. They have pretty names, at least," Yang said. She took a forkful of her own food.

"I told the others this but they're like car models, the successes."

"That sucks to think about people like cars. And you're what? Jealous of that?" Yang asked.

"I wish I'd been built better. I guess,” I defended my feelings. It sucked to think about myself as the kind of failure I was. “Might as well just end it all, the way I see it.”

"Bad, Cloud. No suicidal thoughts," Ruby scolded. She hit me, harder than flirtatious. "You need to want to live."

"Damn, Ruby, let him alone. He's going through a lot right now," Yang protested. "Just listen to his family problems."

"That still isn't the kind of line of thinking we want to encourage in him," Weiss retorted in Yang's direction. "We want him to be on the bonuses of living. Not thinking about how bad things could be."

"'How bad things could be,'" I quoted. "My fucking family is literally the worst, isn't it?" I asked nobody in particular. I took another bite of banana. "It's just me that's this side of fucked up as opposed to the other side. The other side of fucked up, that is."

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-WG

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valorxdrive · 3 years

Text

♕ - Being thrust within the tumultuous waves of China had been a bigger benefit then he could’ve ever imagine. Not that such things were deep in his control, through the familiarly mysterious qualities of the keyblade did the proper path get sort out for him. Places he needed to be friends to reunite with and fight alongside by, and yet, new ones to even make!

Two weeks had flown by since his entrance into the current of an ongoing war. Naturally wherever his feet managed to step, the ever encroaching darkness manages to pervade, risking order and naturally causing rules skipping along World Order to be challenged. After all Keyblade wielders were supposed to be astral forces that tore through the volumes of the dark while keeping their lights ingrained into the darker corner of the worlds.

Sora’s time had been spent fighting directly along the frontlines with Donald, Goofy, Mulan and Mushu.

The merciless return into the fast track had been a gamble. Overwhelming odds of a tyrant turning useless grunts into foot soldiers of darkness had revealed his potential, a man digging his own doom the further he’s enveloped in that abyssal might that offers a deluge of false promises and a taste of poisoned strength. Sora and co had found themselves thrust into a full scale war ranging from wet marshlands to high end mountainsides, a rowdy crew settled by their side alongside a seemingly uptight leader. What shined the brightest second to his reunited and newly forged bonds was the training.

From world bound methods to self-discovery and test like improvements through his own volition, the keybearer found his heart aligning better with his body, a more natural comfort within the body that took such a long rest. Sacrificing volumes of sweat and blood, bearing weakness and the very pain it opens in order to grasp greater potential and old concepts alike, a collected heart amidst such adversity had transformed him into a fighter more capable of standing back upon his own two feet. By the time he finds the war won and his friend’s grisly fate entirely flipped to becoming a hero of China, the very darkness that aims to tear him apart had managed to mold him.

He’s never the sort to bother with deep thinking the odd contradictions. Just the thought of that mysterious girl alongside greater hopes of finding Riku and the King charged him ahead with a stalwart heart.

Which now leads to the next world.

He’s a hop and a skip set with high energy pushing into the the world of a great old friend. Donald and Goofy happily in tow, the three of them looking like a glimmer of hope amidst such sorrowful conditions. Either that or foolishly high nerve being able to banter and nag at each other while ensuring to keep a good eye upon each other’s backs. This world’s darkness had managed to gain a more prominent footing then the last. Amidst the blanket of night, the piercing spires of Beast’s castle were writhing with unholy abominations, those that had a interesting ability to test their meddle and might.

”Donald, Goofy! Let’s split to make the foyer here our safe spot. This way we can cover more ground and keep n’ eye out for Beast too. We can get Belle on over here instead of keeping her stuffed in that room for resting up.”

“Gawrsh Sora! Well I don’t mind, but what about you? Which way are ya headin’?”

With a firm smile and a jut of the thumb, he points towards the two double doors. “Gonna check if I can have any luck out there. If not, then we’d need to be prepared if the Heartless might wanna gather up to just possess the whole castle itself.”

Donald’s beak had twitched at the idea, primarily out of amusement but set to bust Sora’s chops. “And what? So you can show off again? You’ve been really cranking it to 11 since we left Hollow bastion! Thinking about being full heroes like in Herc’s world?”

Sora’s eyes had propped open a little more, mock amusement with a touch of genuine surprise following suit. “Wellll-- Not exactly. I mean I am now thanks to you!” A free spirited glare is shot towards one of his best friends. “I’m just motivated after seeing Squall and the others. They’ve been workin’ so hard.. We gotta catch up!”

That managed to easily be a sentiment they all shared. While offering up their momentary see ya’s, they split off into opposing directions.

The tall violet doors of the castle would creak open as Sora takes his first peek into the extents of the night. Cricketsong hummed it’s tune alongside troubled aura simply gravitating around the courtyard. To his misfortune (and challenge), a series of imposing statues were practically littered all over the place. Heavyset gargoyles forged with hard muscle and sculpted by pure stone. They carried a small armament of weapons, large axes and spears, remaining still as the dead of night. Sora’s eyes immediately squinted at the scenery with suspicion, this utterly reeked of a trap, yet within this trap were also the grounds of an escape route for the castle’s residents if things got hairy.

So he made the daring plunge of advancing down the carpet draped steps as he advances off into the courtyard, a pregnant ivory moon hanging above.

Sora carried a relaxed aura despite seemingly throwing himself small grove of Heartless possessed statues. Keyblade in hand, he could already feel the animosity rolling off the stonework as the pulse of a delectable heart, a wielder’s no less had stirred them.

“And what? You guys don’t have enough manners to least welcome me when I drop by?”

To any onlookers, a threatening presence would wield at the front, unnatural sounds of statues crunching and flexing being heard as an excitable bout was about to go down!

If he intends to face that person whenever they may appear again? Something within his heart tells him that he’d have to dole out the results.

And he’s got just the trick for these guys!

@asteriixa

#asteriixa #| Threads #We can lace the last details of the other thread in ims #Open ended so we can play about with as ya seen fit lol #V; KH2

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Villainy Squared

Dramatis Personae

Batman/Bruce Wayne, the heroic but grumpy crime fighting vigilante

Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel, the eccentric and dimwitted girlfriend of Joker

Harvey Dent/Two-Face, the angry D.A. turned mob boss who bases his decisions on coin flips

The Riddler/Edward Nygma, a childish, riddle-obsessed technological genius

The Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane, a psychopathic psychologist; obsessed with fear

Script

Act I

(Enter Riddler and Two-Face from different directions)

Riddler: Riddle me this, Gotham! What has- (Pause) Two-Face? What are you doing here?

Two-Face: Out of the way, Nygma. This is the Second National Bank, and I’m going to rob it.

Riddler: But this is my heist! I’ve been planning it for months! You can’t just interrupt months of detailed planning because of your obsession with the number two! Why, I’ve already set up my riddle-based death traps of doom in there!

Two-Face: Tough luck, Nygma. You should’ve known better than to gamble on the Second National Bank with me on the loose. Now get lost. (Shoves Riddler to the ground)

Riddler: Ow! (Stands up, brushes himself off) That was entirely uncalled for! And I’m not going anywhere until you find a different bank to rob. This one is mine! Mine! All mine!

Two-Face: Do you really want to tussle with me, Nygma?

Riddler: You aren’t so tough. I can take you. Probably.

Two-Face: (Laughs) A skinny little nerd like you? In your dreams, loser.

Riddler: I’m not a loser! Why, I’m Gotham’s greatest criminal mastermind and the smartest person in Gotham! You’re just a dumb thug!

Two-Face: I may be a thug, but I’m far from dumb. I was a lawyer before I turned to crime, remember? You have to be smart to get through law school!

Riddler: Whatever you say, Two-Face, whatever you say.

Two-Face: (Grabs Riddler by collar) Look here, punk. I’d feel bad fighting a weakling like you, so I’ll give you one last chance to leave. If you don’t, I’ll beat you to a pulp. Got it?

Riddler: But-but I can’t leave! I spent ten thousand dollars on this heist! If I don’t make a profit, I’m gonna be broke! Those riddle traps aren’t cheap, you know.

Two-Face: That’s your problem, Nygma, not mine. Now leave, or it won’t be just your bank account that’s broke.

(Enter Harley)

Harley: Hi, Two-Face! Hi, Eddie! What are you guys doing here?

Riddler: Hi, kid. I’m trying to rob this bank with the help of my riddle-based death traps of doom, but apparently Two-Face had a similar idea, and so we’re now having a difference of opinion regarding who should rob the bank.

Two-Face: (Shakes Riddler a bit) Yeah, and Nygma was just deciding to leave the bank robbing to a professional. What are you doing here, Harley?

Harley: Mister J sent me to rob the bank to fund our next comedy show.

Two-Face: Well, tell that green-haired freak that Two-Face beat you to it. This is my bank to rob, not his or anyone else’s. Isn’t that right, Nygma?

Riddler: Y-yes, sir. Just let me go and I’ll be out of your hair- (Aside) And out of money again! This stinks! How am I supposed to get respect when this keeps happening?

(Two-Face releases Riddler; Riddler rubs his neck)

Harley: Uh, I don’t think Mister J will like the idea of you taking his money, Two-Face.

Two-Face: Well, that’s too bad, because I’m taking it anyway.

Harley: Couldn’t the three of us just split the money, Two-Face? That way, we can all get what we want, and we don’t have to fight over it.

Riddler: Kid, we’re villains. We don’t share money with anyone, not even adorable little things like you. Sorry to disappoint.

Harley: But we’re friends, aren’t we?

Two-Face: No, we aren’t. At best, we’re acquaintances. Now you two had better get lost before I lose my temper. Like I said earlier, this is my heist, and I don’t share.

(Harley starts crying; Enter Scarecrow)

Scarecrow: Greetings, citizens of Gotham. You are about to participate in the largest experiment in mass hysteria ever recorded, courtesy of me, the Scarecrow! (Notices others) Wait- what are the three of you doing here? You’re not part of my experiment.

Two-Face: Go away, you sadistic creep. I don’t want anything to do with a sicko like you.

(Harley pulls out improbably long handkerchief to blow nose)

Scarecrow: Scared, Two-Face? You should be. And Riddler, how nice to see you.

Riddler: H-hello, Scarecrow. I-I was just leaving. See you around! (Tries to exit, only for Scarecrow to grab him and pull him back)

Scarecrow: Leaving so soon? Why, the experiment has only just begun!

Two-Face: (Mutters) Experiment, my foot. (To the others) I thought I told all three of you to leave! This is my bank robbery, not a fear experiment or a way to fund stupid jokes or a way to prove intellectual superiority! Now go before I get violent!

Scarecrow: Leave intimidation to me, Two-Face. You lack the proper finesse to be truly frightening to anyone-except for cowards like Riddler, of course.

Riddler: I-I’m not a coward! I’m a genius! (Aside) Why, oh, why did I have to pick the one bank in Gotham that three other supervillains wanted? It’s going to ruin me, and then I’ll never be able to prove that I’m better than Batman! It’s not fair! They cheated me! They cheated! (Pouts)

Harley: (Notices the Scarecrow, runs to him, hugs him) Hiya, Professor Crane! It’s nice to see you! How have you been?

Scarecrow: Good evening, child. I have been doing well, and I have conducted many fascinating experiments in fear. How have you been?

Harley: Great, Professor Crane!

Two-Face: (To Harley) You actually like this psycho?

Harley: Of course! He was my professor of psychology!

Scarecrow: And she was my favorite student. Her grasp of the physiological and psychological effects of fear, as well as the names and causes of many phobias, was astounding. (Pause) Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have a fear experiment to conduct.

Two-Face: Oh, no, you don’t. No one’s committing a crime in that bank but me!

Harley: No, I’m robbing it for Mister J!

Scarecrow: Child, my experiments are much more important than petty thievery, and there are plenty of other banks for you to rob. Couldn’t you attack one of them instead?

Harley: Mister J specifically told me to attack this one, Professor Crane. Couldn’t you do your experiment somewhere else? Or just wait for me to rob the bank before you start your experiment? I really wanna impress Mister J, and he’ll kill me if I don’t do what he says.

Two-Face: Why do you stay with that clown? He’s such a creep!

(The three ad lib an argument)

Riddler: Fellow villains, I have a brilliant solution to our problem! (Pause) Hey, guys, I have an idea! (Pause) Is anybody listening to me? I said I have an idea. (Pause) BE QUIET SO I CAN TELL YOU ALL MY PLAN!

(Other villains stop arguing)

Scarecrow: So, you finally grew a spine. I’m impressed, Riddler. What’s your idea?

Riddler: We all want to attack the same bank, but none of us are willing to team up or take turns, right?

Harley/Scarecrow/Two-Face: Right.

Riddler: So why don’t we bet for it? I have a fine set of cards at home, after all. The winner of the game gets to rob the bank-or spread fear gas, as the case may be- and the other three have to help them. Does that sound like a brilliant plan or what?

Harley: I love games! I’m in!

Two-Face: Everybody has equal odds of winning. That sounds fair to me. But I’ll have to flip my coin to decide. (Flips coin) The coin says that it’s a good idea. Let’s play.

Scarecrow: I normally dislike games, but, as this one will allow me to spend time with Harley, study three severely disturbed individuals, and get assistants for my experiment, I will play your game as well, and study how much you suffer from Ludophobia- the fear of losing-by so doing.

Riddler: Terrific! Let’s go to my Riddle-Lair.

(Exit all)

Act II

(Enter Batman on the phone)

Batman: Hello? Hello, Commissioner Gordon. Is something wrong? (Pause) The Scarecrow’s escaped from Arkham, too? That makes four high-profile criminals on the loose. Do we have any leads as to where they might have gone? Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. Make sure that Gotham’s citizens know not to attempt to engage them. The last time someone tried that, they ended up in the hospital. Thanks for telling me about his escape. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Well, I’ll start looking for him-and Arkham’s other three escapees-straightaway. Good-bye, Commissioner. (Puts phone away) Hello, audience. I am Batman, the guardian of Gotham City. I have been protecting the innocent citizens of Gotham City from its large collection of lunatics, mob bosses, corrupt politicians, psychopathic psychologists, and ordinary thieves and thugs, and I have also trained my ward, young Dick Grayson, to help me fight crime as Robin. However, he is in Washington, D.C. for a field trip, and so I am single-handedly striking fear into superstitious, cowardly criminals until he returns. However, I am currently facing a much more serious problem than usual: namely, the fact that Harley Quinn, Two-Face, the Riddler, and the Scarecrow have escaped from Arkham and are running amok. Each one is a dangerous criminal in their own right, and the idea of all four on the loose simultaneously would be enough to strike strong fear into the hearts of the good people of Gotham. Therefore, I must quickly defeat and recapture all four criminals before they can start committing crimes-or, worse yet, decide to team up. To the Batmobile, audience! (Batman pantomimes getting into car and then driving it) My sources tell me that the Riddler is hiding out in an abandoned publishing facility, while Harley Quinn is in an abandoned amusement park and the Scarecrow is in an abandoned haunted house. Two-Face is probably in one of his many apartments, but I’m not sure which one he’s in, so I should probably look for him first. Tell me if you see anything, audience. Thank you.

Act III

(Enter Riddler, Two-Face, Scarecrow, and Harley)

Harley: Nice place you got here, Eddie.

Riddler: I know, right? I took over this publishing facility after it was abandoned, added a few personal touches, and wallah! Instant masterpiece of home decorating!

Two-Face: If you like neon green question marks, maybe.

Riddler: Who doesn’t ?

Two-Face: 99.9% of people who aren’t you.

Harley: I like it. It’s so shiny and pretty!

Two-Face: That’s because, you, like Nygma, have the attention span, maturity level, and taste of a six-year-old.

Riddler: I do not have the brain of a six-year-old! Why, I’m the world’s greatest criminal mastermind! If I wasn’t a mature adult, I couldn’t be.

Two-Face: One, your claim to that title is very, very debatable. Two, even if you are a mastermind, your crimes are based on riddles, puzzles, and brainteasers. You’re an adult who uses children’s games for your crimes, and you throw hissy fits when you lose. Even I can’t deny that you’re a genius when it comes to tech and wordplay, but you have an extremely immature outlook on the majority of life.

Scarecrow: In other words, Riddler, you’re a technological and linguistic savant. Your skill in those areas far outstrips your capability in any other aspect of life, and in terms of social behavior you are extremely delayed to the point of it being clear that, emotionally and socially speaking, you’re still a small child. And Harleen has regressed to that point as well, in large part thanks to the Joker. Both of you are adults who act like children, and it’s why you’re insane.

Riddler: Whatever. You’re just jealous because neither of you has a brilliant mind like mine. (He grabs a box of cards and sits down at a table with them)

Scarecrow: (To Two-Face) And, of course, his delusions of grandeur make his mental issues worse. (Both laugh and sit down)

Harley: Professor Crane! Two-Face! Stop being mean to Eddie! (Sits down)

Riddler: Yeah, stop being mean to Eddie-er, me!

Two-Face: (To Riddler) Aww, did we hurt your feelings? Scarecrow: (To Two-Face) Knock it off, Two-Face.

Two-Face: Why? It’s fun to watch Nygma freak out.

Scarecrow: I told you to knock it off! I don’t particularly care for Riddler, either, but we’re upsetting Harleen by making fun of him, and I hate it when she gets upset.

Two-Face: Who are you, and what have you done with Jonathan Crane?

Scarecrow: Harleen is my only friend, all right? I’m allowed to be nice to one person, aren’t I?

Two-Face: So, the big bad Scarecrow has a soft spot, huh? How cute.

Scarecrow: Mock me again and I’ll give you a faceful of fear gas.

Two-Face: Okay, okay, I’m sorry!

Scarecrow: That’s better. So, Riddler, what are we playing?

Riddler: I was thinking poker, but it’s really up to you three. I mean, I’ll win no matter what we play, so it doesn’t matter to me.

Two-Face: (Flips coin) The coin says we play blackjack.

Scarecrow: I was hoping to play rummy, myself, but as I am here to win, not to enjoy myself, I don’t particularly care what we play.

Harley: Um, the only card game I know how to play is Go Fish. Can we play that?

Riddler: You’ve never played a card game besides Go Fish? Really?

Harley: Really really, Eddie.

Riddler: Why?

Harley: All the other ones confuse me.

Riddler: I see. Since I don’t feel like teaching you to play poker, I guess we’re playing go fish.

Scarecrow: Very well. As I said, this is merely an opportunity for me to study human behavior, nothing more. Go Fish is as good a game as any for that purpose.

Two-Face: No way are we playing Go Fish. That game is for little kids, not super criminals. Can you imagine how we’d look playing a game for little kids?

Riddler: Well, according to you, Harley and I act like children anyway, so why wouldn’t we play a kids’ game?

Two-Face: Okay, then, imagine how I’d look playing a kids’ game.

Harley: Aww, you’d be adorable , Two-Face!

Two-Face: Not the point I was trying to make. I wouldn’t look adorable, I’d look stupid, and nobody in the underground would ever take me seriously again. I am not playing Go Fish!

Scarecrow: All right, then you forfeit the game and have to help whichever one of us wins carry out our crime.

Two-Face: Fine! If that’s how you’re gonna play it, then I’ll ask my coin whether I should participate. (Flips coin; groans) Deal me in.

(Riddler deals and the four play Go Fish, ad libbing all the while)

Riddler: Yipee! I won! I won! I actually won! And you two thought I was a joke!

(Two-Face and Scarecrow grumble and glare as Riddler does an obnoxious happy dance)

Harley: Congrats, Eddie! Do you mind if I steal a little something for myself to keep Mister J happy while we’re helping you?

Riddler: Of course not. I may be a psychotic maniac, but even I don’t want to see you get hurt by that barbaric clown again. Speaking of which, you should really find a new boyfriend who treats you with the respect you deserve.

Harley: Whaddaya mean, Eddie? My puddin’ loves me!

Scarecrow: No, he doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t threaten to kill you for failing to fulfill his requests. I’ve told you this a thousand times before-he doesn’t love you, he’s using you.

Harley: Well, maybe Mister J is a little rough sometimes-

Riddler: A little rough? He pushed you out of a fourth-story window! What’s a lot rough for you, having him drop a nuclear bomb on you? Oh, wait-he was willing to do that, too!

Harley: But I l-l-love him!

(Harley starts crying again, Riddler pats her on the back awkwardly)

Two-Face: Does anyone else find it a little odd that three supervillains are lecturing someone about how they’re in an abusive relationship?

Scarecrow: Maybe a little. But then again, I used to be a psychologist. I know the signs of an abusive relationship when I see one.

Two-Face: You do? I thought you only cared about fear.

Scarecrow: I may be fascinated by the effects of fear on the human psyche, but that doesn’t mean that I have completely forgotten everything else I learned in order to become a psychologist. And besides, that poor child’s fear of disappointing the Joker, while invigorating for me in the abstract, is also what keeps her from leaving him. Fear plays a large role in such abusive relationships, and as such, I know a lot about it. (Pause) Poor child. Poor, poor child.

Two-Face: Why does her relationship with the Joker bother you ? You’re the psycho who deliberately makes people see their worst fears for your twisted “research”!

Scarecrow: That doesn’t mean I entirely lack standards, Two-Face. And, even if it did, that doesn’t mean that I want the only person in my entire life who ever wanted to be my friend to be constantly abused by the clown who claims to love her.

Two-Face: Okay, you have a point. (Examines his gun)

Harley: Why does everyone think that my puddin is abusing me? He doesn’t mean anything by what he does to me. (Blows nose)

Riddler: We think he’s abusing you because he is! He threw you out of a fourth-story window, drove you insane, got you involved in battles with a crime fighting ninja, throws you around, hits you, never listens to what you have to say, lies to you, makes fun of you, makes you do things against your will, and ignores you when you’re not convenient. What else would you call that?

Scarecrow: It’s simple psychology, really. He follows the standard pattern of abusers: he pretends he’s nice to win you to his side, then he makes you think that you can’t live without him, and once he’s convinced he can control you, he starts with the abuse.

Harley: But I love him!

Riddler: Is loving him worth him trying to kill you when he gets angry?

Harley: Yes.

(Riddler and Scarecrow groan)

Scarecrow: Child, if you stay with him, he will kill you. I am very similar to him, so I know that he is incapable of love. At best, you are a diversion to him. At worst, you are a punching bag. You need to break up with him and find someone else-preferably someone else who is less prone to creating gigantic explosions.

Riddler: My vote would be that you turn “puddin” into pudding, but that’s neither here nor there. Either way, you should ditch that creep and move on with your life.

Harley: But where would I go?

Riddler: Poison Ivy likes you. Maybe you could go live with her.

Harley: Thanks for the suggestion. You guys are the best friends a psychotic nutcase could ask for. (Blows nose) From now on, I’m done with that homicidal, abusive clown.

Scarecrow: Wonderful! And if he tries to bother you, I’ll give him a nightmare that he’ll never wake up from.

(Harley hugs Riddler, who looks thrilled, then hugs Scarecrow)

Riddler: (Aside) I got hugged by a girl! Score!

Two-Face: Can we go rob the bank now, please? I’m as fond of weird counseling sessions as anyone else, but if we don’t get going soon, I’m going to forget our deal and rob the place by myself using my own plan.

Riddler: Okay, okay, we’re coming. Don’t have a cow.

Harley: You know, now that I’ve broken up with Mister J, I don’t really need to rob the bank, so I’m going to go find Ivy. Good-bye!

Riddler: Atta girl, kid! Bye!

Scarecrow: Farewell, child.

(Exit Harley)

Two-Face: You two really are crazy.

Riddler: And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s go rob that bank!

Commercial Break!

Act IV

(Enter Batman)

Batman: I’ve checked the hideouts of Two-Face, Harley Quinn, and the Scarecrow, but they weren’t at any of them. That means that they must’ve teamed up with Riddler for some reason, and they must be hanging out here, at the abandoned publishing facility Riddler uses. I hope that, whatever nefarious crime they’re planning, they’re still here now, because if they aren’t, I’ll have to deal with panicked civilians.

(Enter Harley)

Harley: Hi, Batman! (Does double take) Batman?

Batman: Surrender quietly and things will be much easier for you, Ms. Quinzel.

Harley: Great! I was just looking for you! (Hugs him) I’m breaking up with the Joker, so I need to go to Arkham to get away with him and meet up with Red.

Batman: (Confused) You’re surrendering?

Harley: Yeah! I’m breaking up with the Joker, so I need to go to Arkham so that he can’t get me, and this is the quickest way to do it.

Batman: All right. (Handcuffs her) Why the change of heart regarding the Joker?

Harley: Eddie and Professor Crane told me he was abusing me, and they made sense, so I decided to leave him and become my own person again.

Batman: I’m glad to hear that, Ms. Quinzel. I wish you the best of luck with your attempt to break the cycle of codependency and abuse.

(They pantomime getting into the Batmobile and driving to Arkham in it. Harley throws her hands in the air like she’s on a roller coaster)

Harley: WHEEE!

(Batman stops the car and lets her out. They ‘walk inside’ Arkham)

Batman: Good-bye, Ms. Quinzel.

Harley: Good-bye, Batman. (Hugs him) And next time, you can call me Harley. Everybody does.

Batman: Good-bye, Harley. (Aside) Now I just have to hope that the other three have kept out of trouble.

Act V

(Enter Riddler, Scarecrow, and Two-Face)

Two-Face: If this plan fails, I’ll make you eat your hat.

Riddler: Fail? I’m a genius! So long as Batman doesn’t show up, my plan can’t possibly fail!

(Enter Batman)

Batman: Hello, gentlemen.

Scarecrow: (To Riddler) Congratulations, Riddler. You jinxed your own plan. How predictable.

Batman: I assume that asking the three of you to come in quietly would be too much to ask.

Riddler: How did you solve my riddles, Batman?

Batman: I didn’t have to. The three of you left a trail so obvious that anyone could have followed you here.

Riddler: You didn’t solve the riddles I sent you? Then I won! I won! I actually won!

Batman: Sure. Whatever makes you happy. (Aside) It’s like fighting a six-year-old.

Riddler: And now, I’ll kill you with a riddle-based death trap of-

(Batman knocks him out)

Batman: There’s your prize, Nygma.

Scarecrow: Did you see Harleen, by any chance?

Batman: Yes, I did. I took her to the asylum myself, in fact. Why?

Scarecrow: I was hoping that she would find a way to keep herself safe from that lunatic. Good for her! (Pause; Brandishes fear canister) It’s time for you to face your fears, Batman!

Batman: No, it’s time for you to face the law. (Knocks fear canister out of his hands) Why did you willingly help Harley, Crane?

Scarecrow: That’s personal information, Batman. (Tries to grab fear canister, is knocked out by Batman)

Two-Face: (Makes a run for the bank) Looks like I get the money after all! (Is knocked out by Batman)

Batman: Good night, Dent. (Pulls out phone) Hello? Commissioner Gordon? It’s Batman. I have three criminals for you to arrest. They’re right outside the Second National Bank. Thank you. (Puts phone away) I can’t believe that the Scarecrow and the Riddler care enough about Harley to try to get her away from the Joker, but it’s beneficial anyway, as it means that I might not have to deal with Harley Quinn any more. Who would have expected that?

#batman #batman rogues #dc comics #fanfic #theater

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Fic: A Len of the Lake - ao3 link

Fandom: DC Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: What happens when you let a thief loose in the Oculus?

He steals stuff.

And then he doesn't die, and things get weird.

Happy birthday and much belated gift for @daughterofscotland

---

Being a thief of long standing, Len has - among other useful traits like agile fingers and a remarkable capacity for impromptu bullshitting - a fifth sense for what things are valuable.

An instinct, really, or maybe it's best described a homing beacon.

So when Sara refuses his first request to exit the Vanishing Point at high speed - a request born of terror at the idea of going up against the people who turned Mick into a stranger, a soulless slave called Kronos, and could potentially do the same to other people - Len falls back on his usual first response and searches for valuables.

Technically, they're looking for their friends to rescue, and Len fully intends to do that should he find them, but in the meantime there's no harm, surely, in looking around a little?

Sara might've disagreed, but they agreed to split up (to more easily search for the others) so it’s not like she’s there to stop him.

He finds what he later, to his sorrow, learns is called the Oculus; the first time he sees it, he merely thinks that a strange device on the island in the off-center building surrounded by a skeleton crew of guards and armed with a number of futuristic alarms (which Len rather enjoys dismantling) must contain things which are quite valuable.

There is a panel in the back of the strange device, in fact, but the only thing inside is an old wooden cup and an equally old looking broadsword in a battered old scabbard.

Len assumes he's found the wrong panel, but since he's here already, and, since he rather thoroughly dislikes the Time Masters for what they did to Mick, he grabs the cup anyway. It doesn’t really look like much, but it's almost a chalice, and Mick had so very much liked the chalice he'd had back in the doomed hellscape of 2046. Where all their problems had begun, or at least come to light, and where Len had put Mick on the road to suffering and hatred and pain.

Least Len can do, really, is to get him another.

He has no need for a sword, though, so when it resists his first few tentative tugs, he leaves it be. The cup goes into a pocket - the parka he left back in the Waverider (or possibly 2017, with Barry, he’s not actually sure), but all of his coats have many and very voluminous pockets for an excellent reason.

A good pickpocket’s habits die hard, after all.

He finds the others - all but Mick, who (he's not going to lie) was the one he was looking for.

Mick finds him.

Kronos finds him, actually, but scratch the surface and it's Mick still, to Len's overwhelming relief.

Such relief persists, and comes with him, and is with him right up until they're back at the Oculus, and Mick says "I'm staying", at which point the relief turns into sheer terror.

Len can't lose Mick again.

He can't.

But he thinks, in his heart, that ‎perhaps Mick can - and perhaps would be better to - lose him, the one who caused him such pain, and for such stupid reasons, reasons Len can't even really remember anymore.

So he cracks his gun over Mick's head, taking his decision away one last time in a sick and sad echo of what he’d done before, gives him his ring and his gun, and gives all three to Sara to take back to the Waverider; and then he puts his hands in the guts of the machine and waits for the end.

The end, annoyingly, is preceded by the appearance of a number of angry Time Masters, here to interfere with Len's incredibly stupid plan to sacrifice himself before he has to properly apologize to Mick for being a terrible partner who took away his choices, and also coincidentally save the world, and – here’s the particularly annoying part – Len's already given away his cold gun.

That's an issue, since Len doesn't know how long he needs to hold them off until the explosion.

Well, it's an issue right until he remembers the sword.

The stupid sword that wouldn't so much as budge for him earlier.

Weirdly enough, the handle (hilt? Len's not exactly up on his sword terminology) of the sword is right there inside the guts of the machine, and while technically Len needs two hands to hold the various odds and ends that Ray said needed to be held down to overcome the failsafe and let the bomb go off, he's always had good, agile thief hands. He can wiggle around and stretch a pinky to cover up one last connection, and that frees up his second hand to grab the not-sharp-end-of-the-sword-piece-thingy.

Len is really not up on his sword terminology.

‎He also doesn't know how to fight with a sword, not even a little, but that's fine; he just needs to wave it threateningly at the Time Masters so they'll stay away from him long enough for the timer to go off.

The sword –

The sword is stuck.

"Oh, come on!" Len exclaims, less at the sword than at the concept of destiny or luck or whatever the hell he's grappling with here.‎ "I'm trying to save the world here -" And Mick, but then again, he’s Len's whole world, so it isn't even that much of a lie. "- can't you cut me even a little break?!"

Oddly enough, the sword he's tugging on‎ seems to actually give in a bit at that, moving a few inches, but moving slowly and stickily, like it's reluctant to give in entirely.

"Listen to me, you stupid metal stick," Len hisses at it, perfectly aware that he's maybe gone a little unreasonable in his growing terror that this whole sacrifice shit might turn out to be for nothing, and that the Time Masters would then have him in their brainwashing clutches, "you might be okay being stuck here letting a bunch of assholes screw up all of history‎ to match their own interests, but I'm not! They tortured and brainwashed my Mick, and I'm going to stick it to them if I have to use my bare hands to do it!"

The sword ‎gives in and comes out, battered old scabbard and all.

Whatever.

It's oblong and heavy and Len can still try to bash someone in the head with it.

Certainly the Time Masters seem adequately aware of that risk, since those closest to Len seem to be slowing down, their eyes widening in utter horror, their mouths screaming "No!" in denial -

And that's when the explosion goes off.

Len feels it, warmth on his hands, and he's always wanted to go out with a pithy quip - sadly, the best he can come up with in the heat of the moment is, "There are no strings on m‎e."

Going out on a Disney quote.

Yeah, okay, while it is definitely apt and well-time and everything, Len's still kinda happy that everyone here that could serve as a witness is probably going to be dead in a minute or two.

In fact, Len can see them vaporizing in the heat of the blast.

…actually, on second thought, that’s a little concerning.

What’s particularly concerning is that he can see more and more of them dissolving into puffs of dust, while he, who is standing nearer to the center of the rapidly expanding explosion and bracing himself with the entirely reasonable expectation that he would be going first, is rather notably not doing the same.

In fact, other than the fact that the sword and scabbard he's holding have started shining like a freaking lightsaber, he's doing just fine.

Len's starting to get the idea that he might've grabbed something more than a simple sword when all of a sudden the ground underneath him gives way and he's falling.

Falling first through rock, then what looks suspiciously like the green swirls of light that surround the Waverider when it's flying through space, and then through water.

Water?!

Oh fuck no.

Len has only had about three swimming classes in his whole life, two of which were conducted by Mick after the other man had jokingly tossed him into the sea off their balcony when they were in Aruba for their honeymoon, only to jump in after him in a hurry when Len had screamed that he didn't know how to swim. Or tread water. Or - anything, really.

He knows just enough to know that there is water, he is currently beneath it, and he should remedy that situation imminently through the means of kicking his legs really hard.

His head breaks surface.

He gasps for air, then tries to take stock of his situation.

He's in a lake.

There's a pretty lady and some guys in old style renaissance festival outfits standing at the edge of said lake. All of them are gawking at him.

None of them are helping him.

Len goes under the water again for a second, then – more by panicked force of will than any actual intentional action on his part – resurfaces. “Help me!” he shouts.

"Throw the king the sword," the lady ‎shouts back.

"I'll throw it point first at you, lady, if you don't help me out!" Len shouts right back at her, and then promptly sinks back under the surface for another second.

He hates water so much.

“Throw it!”

“If you don’t come fucking help me, I’m just going to drop it in here!”

"Swim forward!" one of the guys helpfully shouts.

"I can't swim!" Len shouts. "Obviously! Asshole!"

One of them strips off a bit and jumps in, which is very nice and highly appreciated of him, swims over to Len and starts dragging Len back to shore, Len spluttering and soaked through and yowling curses like an angry cat the whole time.

He doesn’t like water, okay?

"This wasn't quite what I thought was meant by being given a sword by the Lady du Lac," the guy that is rescuing him gasps. He looks a bit like Mick, actually, but only in a distant vague I-miss-him-already sort of way – something of the nose and the ears and the space between the eyes. “I wasn’t expecting someone like, well, you to be involved at all, really. Whoever you are.”

"You're still in range of me, you know," Len reminds him.

"In range of what, you shaking off water on me and half-drowning yourself?"

Len elbows him in the ribs, even knowing it'll result in an immediate dunking.

Pride goeth before the fall, as they say.

(He’s pretty sure that’s not what they mean, but what the hell does he know, he’s Jewish. Black and Jewish, which explains both the casual irreverence and the inability to swim.)

Eventually they both reach the shore, panting and exhausted.

"Can I have the sword now?"‎ the guy says plaintively.

"Enjoy," Len says, because he does not even slightly care right now, and shoves it at him. "Be careful, it glows sometimes."

"I'll – uh – keep that in mind," the guy says, taking it. He looks at it, seeing the battered scabbard and the not-so-shiny hilt and sighs, obviously disappointed. "Well, at least it's magic. Even if the obtaining of it wasn't exactly very magical."

"When you tell everyone about it, say I was a pretty girl," Len suggests. He's taking beautiful breaths of beautiful air, and, as mentioned, does not particularly care about much right now.

"The Lady du Lac is pretty, but rather too well known to start saying that I caught her swimming," the guy says, nodding at the lady currently marching stridently towards them, the other three guys in tow.

"Then don’t say it’s her, obviously. Just say that a mysteriously appearing figure in lake tossed it to you," Len says, then smirks. "Just remember: a watery tart in a shallow grave is no form of a basis for a system of government."

"Luckily I got my system of government ‎out of a rock instead," the guy says, laughing. "Which I must admit is nearly as bad. But then it broke, so I needed a replacement."

Len’s not sure how one breaks a system of government outside of the usual corrupt politician stuff, but shrugs and says, "Well, if you started with a rock, why not try a lake next? Seems thematic enough – earth, water...next time you can do wind and fire."

"Thematic indeed,” the guy says, sniggering a little. “Well, why not? It makes as much sense as anything else does. I think I will use your idea after all. The bards will appreciate it, if nothing else."

"You do that," Len agrees, and flops backwards onto the grass. "I'm just going to close my eyes for a bit now."

"What, here?"

"I'm tired."

"You're still in your wet things; you'll catch cold!" the guy protests. Secret mother hen, just like Mick, jeez. Len wonders if they’re related somehow.

"I'm tired," Len repeats stubbornly. "I've had a very stressful day."

"I fought two giants to get here!"

"Yeah? They do anything to deserve it?"

The guy looks lost. "What?"

"Giants. They do anything to you?” Len clarifies. “Or is this the sort of fairytale where the hero always defeats any assorted magical creature - helpfully standing in for the Other, thereby creating an innately xenophobic cultural system in which the in-group is supported right or wrong and the out-group invariably demonized?"

Because this place, wherever it is, is clearly not reality.

Len’s open to it maybe being a dream or something, maybe some fucked-up uncomfortable afterlife thing, maybe an alternate universe or something, but reality it’s definitely not.

"I like you," the guy says, thereby further proving that it is, in fact, not reality. Len’s never made a good first impression on anyone in his life, excluding Mick. "My name's Art."

"Len," Len replies. "Leonard, technically, but Len's fine."

He closes his eyes.

“Len,” Art says thoughtfully. “So that makes you, what, the Len of the Lake?”

Len cracks an eye open long enough to glare.

"You really ought to change before you rest," Art adds.

"Yeah, wise guy? Make me," Len says.

That might have been a bad idea.

Art solves this by picking Len up, which Len would protest except that it gets him a piggy-back ride back to a nearby castle and dumped into a nice heated bath.

(Okay, okay, he does complain, but Art tells him about there being a heated bath in his future and Len shuts up because he’s not going to say no to a free bath in a real bathtub. The Waverider is adequate in many ways, but it has a strong preference for shower stalls.)

The other guys – a dark-skinned guy who can't stop grinning, and two larger guys who look disapproving – come along with them. The two disapproving ones spend a fair bit of time complaining about Len's unexpected and unvetted presence.

Mostly the tall, serious, even-more-disapproving one.

"Oh, shut up, Beddy," Art - who'd ultimately hopped into the nice big steaming hot bath as well - says. ‎"It's fine. He nearly drowned. That’s hardly suspicious."

"Our enemies -" the shorter but broader guy starts to say.

"Kay, please. He's clearly not Roman. Are you Roman?"

"Only in my pizza preferences,” Len says with a yawn.

"See?"

"I think he's unbalanced," the first guy, Beddy, grumbles. "Also, what's 'pizza'?"

"He's not unbalanced," the brown-skinned guy says, speaking up for the very first time. "He's from the future. Sorry about that," he adds. "I wasn't really paying attention to where the Lady and I were summoning the sword from."

Len waves a forgiving hand. He's still alive, which is more than he expected.

He’ll worry about the whole ‘summoning’ business later.

He can worry about everything later, for that matter; preferably after he gets some sleep. He's so tired, he doesn't even care about Art seeing his scars, and that's usually something he cares about very much.

They let him crash in a bed after (“let” meaning that Beddy and Kay objected loudly to giving Len one and Art said “fine he can have mine” and the last still-unnamed guy just sniggered the whole time) and from that point on, Len only hears a few further snatches of conversation.

"- can't trust him -"

"- a warrior of some variety -"

"- no weapon that I've seen -"

"- irrelevant -"

"- think of the Sword."

Len falls asleep.

He wakes up to someone bouncing onto the bed.

“Lisa, go to hell,” Len says automatically, and then opens his eyes with a squint. The dark-skinned man from yesterday, the one Len never got the name of, is beaming down at him. “Not Lisa. What’re you doing on my bed?”

“Technically, it’s Art’s bed,” the guy says. “My name’s Merle –” At least Len thinks that’s what he says; the guy has an accent like nobody’s business. Is he from New Zealand or something? Do they even have New Zealand here? “– and I want to know everything.”

“Get a good encyclopedia and start with ‘a’,” Len recommends.

Merle rolls his eyes. “About the future.”

“Uh,” Len says, remembering as he wakes up the rest of the way. Oculus, sword, falling... “Hey, where’s my stuff?”

Merle points to where everything’s been dumped in the corner. “We convinced Bedievere and Kay not to go through it,” he says. “It was hung up to dry, though. And then Art pitched it in here. He was trying not to wake you up, but he’s something of an elephant sometimes. Luckily, you were out cold.”

“How long did I sleep?”

“Only two days.”

“Two days?”

“I knew a woman who slept for fifteen years after travelling in time,” Merle says. “You have it easy. Tell me about the future!”

“…we have better mattresses?”

Merle gives him a Look.

“What? We do! I don’t know what you want from me; it’s not like I carry around a guide to the future with me.”

Merle gives a long-suffering sigh. “Maybe if I asked some questions...”

“In the meantime, how about you answer some of mine?” Len says. “Like ‘what was that about summoning’ and ‘will you get out of the room so I can get dressed, I’m naked under here’?”

“Oh, no need to worry about that, you’re very attractive,” Merle assures him. “If immensely irritating.”

Len rolls his eyes. “Art seemed to like me well enough.”

“Yes, he does, which is a great point in your favor. He likes you rather a lot,” Merle says. “Which is, to be frank, the only reason you’re here in the master bedroom instead of in a dungeon.”

“Dungeon,” Len says flatly, then shrugs. What’s it to him? He can break out of any prison. “Wait, if you have a dungeon – what era is this?”

“The age of heroes,” Merle says grandly.

“Uh, no,” Len says. “I’m from the age of heroes. Got a cute little red one all to myself, back in Central. What year is it?”

“Oh, you’re no fun. What type of calendar do you use? Julian? Celtic?”

“Um,” Len says, wracking his brain. He has no idea what the calendar he uses is called, other than ‘the usual one’, and he’s pretty sure that if they’re discussing calendar types than he’s not in an era that necessarily recognizes it. Is he even in BC or AD? Actually, that gives him an idea. “Could you tell me the year in the Hebrew calendar? Uh, Jewish calendar, land of Israel calendar...”

Merle looks delighted and also like he understands what Len meant, which, good, because communication is hard.

“Excellent choice,” he says. “Originally inspired by the Babylonian, I believe? Very old, very reliable, based on the moon. Per that calendar, it is currently the 19th of Nisan, in the year 4243.”

Len does some mental calculations. “So it’s...sometime in April...in the year...wait. The year's 483?! As in, four, without even a one before it?!”

“I assume you're talking about another calendar. What year are you from, using the calendar we have in common?”

“5776,” Len says, making a face. He only remembers that because he’d thought 5775 was a funny palindrome all of the previous year. “Over a millennia into your future – wait. How are we even talking? Shouldn’t you guys be all speaking Beowulf Anglo-Saxon or something?”

Maybe his translator-pill-from-the-Waverider is still in effect?

“Oh, I imposed a general translator spell on all of the knights,” Merle says airily, like that's even a thing normal people say, but hey - metas and time travel, Len's in no position to throw stones. “It helps international relations. Well, sometimes. The Romans hate it because it doesn’t translate the way they say things exactly as they said them, it translates it into whatever the person really means, and Latin is apparently very subtle about these things.”

“Wait, does that mean no puns?” Len asks, distracted. “Because that’s awful.”

“No, no, puns translate.”

“Good, because it’d be a real punishment to go without.”

Merle just stares at Len for a long moment. “I see why you get along with Art,” he finally says. “Also, I’m suddenly regretting my decision to cast that translation spell now.”

“Not my fault I’ve got a pun-chant for puns that’s entirely pun-stoppable.”

“I think I hate you.”

“What? You don’t think I’m – punny?”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Come back!” Len shouts after the fleeing man. “You didn’t even explain the whole spell thing!”

No good, he’s gone.

Well, at least that means Len can get dressed now.

He’s just managed to slide his jacket back on when Art pops his head in. He’s less sopping wet now, but he still looks an awful lot like Mick if Mick decided he wanted to grow hair and the prickly start of a beard again, so he’s unmistakable. “You got Merlin to go running!” Art says cheerfully. He has a ridiculous booming voice the way Mick does; Len is struck by a pang of distinct homesickness immediately. “You have to teach me how you did that. I can never get him to go away and leave me alone, no matter what I try.”

“Merle didn’t appreciate the finesse of my sense of humor, that’s all,” Len says with a faint smirk. “Don’t suppose you can tell me about this whole spell business? He left before answering any of my questions.”

“You’ll find that he does that. Constantly. Very annoying. What spell?”

“He said something about summoning the sword, some sort of translator spell, that sort of thing? How’s he doing ‘em? He a meta or something?”

“No, he’s a wizard,” Art says. “Try not to overthink it; I certainly don’t.”

Len is unable to keep himself from smiling. That’s such a Mick way of looking at the world.

Well, they are currently in the 5th century. Maybe Mick’s a distant descendant?

"Anyway, I'm glad you're awake," Art continues. "Now we can finally head home."

"This isn't your home?"

"No, this is the castle of the Lady du Lac, which she has graciously permitted us to stay at while we sought the Sword," Art says. "Uh, actually, while we're on that subject, I'd avoid her if I were you."

"Why?"

"Well, she's Gaulish, you know. They're all terribly temperamental. And you did sort of show up with the priceless sword of legend�� that is her family's most secret heirloom? And then threaten to throw it at her?"

"...right," Len says. "Sneak out, gotcha."

"Exactly," Art says. "Now come on, or we'll miss the reflection."

"Reflection?"

"The Lady du Lac's specialty," Art explains, like that explains anything. "Her family tends a - and please don't ask me to‎ explain this - a pocket world in Fairyland made entirely of reflections, and if you travel through the reflection, you can come out through a different reflection. Any reflective surface will do, actually; though for obvious reasons they're known best for using lakes..."

"Huh," Len says. "You know, I know a guy who can do the same. Scudder. Though he goes by Mirror Master nowadays - mirrors being more common than lakes -"

"You can't really get that good a reflection in brass or silver," Art says. "Just my opinion. Though I'm definitely going to pay more attention to being dressed when I shave..."

"You shave?" Len can't resist asking. “Really?”

"I trim," Art says haughtily. "Perhaps your Scudder is a descendant of the du Lacs? Is he of Gaulish extraction?"

"I mean, I certainly find him galling, but I don't think that's what you mean."

Art laughs uproariously at that. "‎Oh, I'm going to have to use that one," he says, slapping Len on the back. "Well done! Next time I meet with them at council - perhaps in a letter - oh, yes, I like that one – oh, please tell me you have a few for the Romans."

"Mostly that I hear all the neighboring people wish they'd Rome around elsewhere."

"I love you," Art says sincerely, which is not anyone sane’s response on the level of a five-year-old, but in Len’s defense he was being put on the spot. "Deeply. Abidingly. How do you feel about being a Queen?"

"My husband tells me I'm already a drama queen, but thanks for the offer," Len says dryly. It occurs to him a second too late that he doesn't know how well a statement like that fits the tenor of the possibly-homophobic times, but Art did propose to him first.

"Too bad," Art says wistfully. "I mean, don't get me wrong, my advisors already have one in mind for me - Roman girl, daughter of one of their nobles, with some unpronounceable sort of name that sounds like it was intended to be a local name that went terribly wrong somewhere - but how will I know if she's any good at jesting?"

Len rolls his eyes. Ah, yes, arranged marriages; one of the great joys of the past. "You said something about catching the next mirror outta here? Or specifically, about not missing it?"

"Ah, yes! Come, take a cloak and put up your hood so that the Lady may ignore you, and we will go to the lakeside."

The trip is - interesting. Len was gone with the Legends, technically, when Scudder first appeared, so he'd never taken a ride with the man...the man who probably wants to kill him, anyway, given the murderous note they'd left things on. The only reason Len even knows about him is because Barry's little jaunt ‎to 2017 had been filled with all sorts of interesting secrets.

Len likes secrets.

He's also sincerely pissed off that someone as dumb as Scudder got an ability that useful. The man will almost certainly waste it.

If Len ever makes it back to his own era, he’s definitely going to force Scudder back onto his team just to make sure it gets properly used for once.

He might even apologize about the whole spot of attempted murder, if necessary.

Either way, into the looking glass they go - was the guy who wrote Alice in Wonderland a descendant of these du Lac people too? - and out the other end they come.

Well. Splash, really.

The Lady's clearly got the hang of emerging looking all noble and dignified, but no one else looks good when they're suddenly knee-deep in water and pond scum.

Len says at much, which gets Art to start laughing, Merle to hide a smile, and everyone else to glare.

"Thank you for your services, gentle Lady," Kay says to the Lady, sounding incredibly stiff. "Please excuse Art. He's still young. And stupid. Mostly stupid."

She disappears without a word.

"‎That was one of our finest allies, you clod," Kay tells Art, but he has a long-suffering sort of tone to him, almost like –

"You brothers?" Len asks, looking between them. They look nothing alike, but the relaxed posture is unmistakable.

"Foster brothers," Kay says, looking surprised. "‎Though, if you didn't know, how...?"

"Got a sister myself," Len says. "Love her even when she's driving me crazy. You get to know the look."

That gets a glimmer of a smile from Kay.

Beddy, noticing that Len seems to be making up for his terrible first impression, scowls. "Let's be on our way, shall we? I'll be pleased when we get back, so as best to test the goodwill of our - new friend."

"Don't be such a sourpuss, Beddy," Art says. "But yes, we should get home; it'll settle a lot of people's minds, knowing I've got a sword again."

Getting home, however, means transportation, and in the fifth century, transportation means –

"Oh hell no," Len says. "I am not riding a horse."

"Why not?"

"They're animals!"

"...so?"

"I don't ride nothing that's got a mind of its own," Len says. "Except Gideon. And sometimes Mick, but that's private."

"This is Gertha. She's totally safe," Art says encouragingly, bringing forward an absolute monster of a dappled mare.

Okay, she’s not that tall – all of the horses here are more like ponies than giants – but that’s not the point. She looks like a monster to Len.

"Horses don't like me," Len says darkly. "They smell fear."

"And evil," Beddy mutters.

Merle offers Len some sugar. "Feed that to her and she'll like you," he suggests.

Len takes the sugar and eyes Gertha warily. Gerta looks beadily back at him, huffing a little.

"Good horsie," Len says, and offers the sugar slowly. "Good -"

Gerta tries to bite his hand off.

Len ‎flees.

Art collapses laughing.

Even Beddy is having trouble hiding a smile.

"You can ride behind me," Art finally says. "Roach and I will protect you."

"You named your horse Roach?"

"Why not?"

"I had a pet rock named Roach once," Len says. "Well, technically it was Mick's rock. He takes‎ care of all the pets. But I named that one."

"I was inspired to name him in a dream," Art says. "Clearly we are mystically bound. Destined to be together."

"I'm still married," Len reminds Art.

"Damn," Art replies cheerfully. "Does he share?"

Len rolls his eyes.

Judging by the unsurprised expressions on Beddy and Kay's faces, and the smirk on Merle's, Art repeatedly proposing to random people is not that rare.

Luckily, Roach actually seems to not mind it when Len is on his back. He barely reacts.

He barely reacts to anything, actually.

"I think my pet rock had more life in him than your horse, Art."

"He's a placid creature, it's true," Art says. "I took him on too many adventures when I was young and - erm - less wise than I am now. He's rather gotten used to anything."

Len laughs, and they ride.

It's horrifically uncomfortable. Why would people ever travel this way?! Much less willingly, when there are cars?!

Not that Len likes cars all that much. He hates driving.

But it’s better than horses.

Much to his annoyance, though, he finds that the town they’re riding towards is not their final destination, but rather a stop-over point to collect Art’s gang – which, in an amusing twist, is apparently almost entirely composed of metas.

(Damnit, Len knew he should’ve gone for the Rogues thing back home instead of jumping on the time travel boat.)

There's Kay, for one, who (apparently) has some sort of Ray-like ability to change size: he can grow to the size of a giant (possibly a small giant - he doesn't get much over twelve feet). When he does, he usually uses an entire iron fireplace as his weapon, necessitating gloves capable of resisting heat - which sadly he doesn't have, and eventually ends up burning through all the mildly resistant ones he does have.

Len is able to offer some tips on those, thanks to Mick, and also suggests that Kay experiment with getting smaller rather than larger for better infiltration purposes. Kay seems intrigued.

Old Beddy, for his part, is apparently a small-time sorcerer himself, to the point that he nearly got burned for witchcraft, specifically for either consorting with or fighting a demon. Or something, anyway - no one's entirely sure. It turns out a good part of the stick up his ass is that he's apparently got some ‎Roman blood that he's embarrassed about, from an attempted invasion around his great-grandfather's time a century or more ago, and supposedly there's a curse involving bad luck and interesting lives on anyone with Constantinus blood.

Len guesses that explains the paranoia, ‎though not the willingness to forget about it. Poor guy, though - the ability to see and banish demons doesn't sound like all that much fun.

Len's got a lot less sympathy for Balin, who's kind of a dick, though admittedly well-meaning one. He's always trying to do the right thing - albeit without actually thinking it through - and he's aided in that endeavor by being able to grow a shell or something across his skin, hard as stone and difficult (though not impossible) to pierce.

Len's first comment - probably unwisely - had been to ask if that meant Balin's skin went as hard as his head normally is, but to be fair he was still stewing over the fact that Balin had tried to stab him for nipping down for an early breakfast.

He hadn't even been trying to steal anything that time!

Art had found it funny, at least.

Personally, Len far prefers Perks - officially named Percieval, but since he was raised a backwoods farmer, Perks hasn't quite gotten the hang of all of this knightly etiquette stuff yet, and that means he’s right up Len’s alley. He's got big stuck-out ears and a gap-toothed grin and he shoots beams of light out of his hands.

‎He's a real ray of sunshine, and Len tells him as much.

Takes Perks one or two tries to get the joke - he's good-natured, but not a natural punster - but he likes it well enough after he does.

Of course, not everyone has meta powers; some of them seem to have some sort of magic item that helps them‎ out, instead. Take the one who doesn’t talk much but who everyone else calls Marrock, a guy short, squat, and furry enough to be a werewolf - and may actually be, given how shifty he gets when people mention the full moon, though Len's been informed that that might also be a sign of being a Druid - but whose more interesting trait is a wand that he claims controls the weather.

Len really hopes that he's not related, even distantly, to the Mardon brothers. If there were ever a pair of people that really, truly didn't need to also be werewolves...

Or take Ywain, for instance. ‎He's already impressive enough - a big black man with an equally big mustache and biceps the size of grapefruit. He's a traveler, originally from somewhere in Africa. But in addition to all that, he's got a necklace (he calls it a totem, but it's a necklace) that lets him absorb the powers of various animals by summoning their spirits. One of the spirits stays outside the necklace, a lion spirit. It talks. Mostly to Ywain, mind you, but audibly and understandably.

Len thinks it's awesome, even if it isn't quite a meta power. Sadly, Ywain can't really explain it beyond the fact that it belongs to a land called Zambezi, a place Len has never heard of and has no idea if it even exists in his era, and that he is to uphold justice with it.

He lets Len try to pet his lion, though sadly it doesn't work, the lion being incorporeal whenever it's not ripping someone's jaw out. Oh, well.‎

But out of all of them, Len's absolute favorite knight isn't a meta or a magic-item-user at all.

He’s an alien.

“Ga-Ain,” the guy – who looks totally human, if six-foot-something people with perfect shining teeth and perfectly styled hair and muscles like a built swimmer look human, which Len isn’t entirely sure of, and also he vaguely resembles Ray which in retrospect makes Len even more convinced that Raymond Boy Scout Palmer isn't entirely a human being – says, sticking out his hand with a grin. “But you can call me Gawain, everyone else does.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Len says. “You sure about that Gawain stuff? I can do Ga-Ain, no sweat.”

Gawain looks tickled pink. “No, no need, please; Gawain is preferable,” he says. “Only my birth family calls me Ga-Ain, really, and we’re not really on speaking terms after they suggested I murder my foster family and take over the world.”

That gets a stare.

“My mother found me in a shooting star,” Gawain explains. “I was part of a convoy of stars, bound for elsewhere, but I was lost due to a terrible storm –”

“You landed in a space ship that got split off from the rest of the group,” Len says, blinking. “Because you’re an – alien?”

“Oh, yes, I forgot you’re from the future,” Gawain says, smiling even more brightly. Everyone had taken that little tidbit with surprising equanimity; Len suspects Merle just does this shit on a regular basis and everyone’s just adapted. “Yes, exactly. Everyone else was in suspended animation, so it took them some time to notice that I was here – my teenage years, to be precise, since I landed when I was about ten or eleven – and then to reach out to me via the ships’ communication systems. I was overjoyed to hear from them at first, of course, but then it turned out that my original people, the Kryptonians, are quite martial and thought that a spot of world-conquering wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“On your own?”

“I become more powerful as I absorb the light of your yellow sun,” Gawain says with a shrug. “It gives me all sorts of powers – flying, super-strength, even the ability to heat things with my gaze or to cool things with my breath –”

Heat vision and ice breath.

Len loves this guy already.

“But at any rate, I’d already absorbed the code of chivalry from my foster parents, so I told my birth parents to go shove it.”

“Well,” Len says dryly, “on behalf of Earth, thanks.”

Gawain snorts.

"I assume your family took that with the level of grace and dignity that one would ascribe to the sort of person who thinks conquering the world is a good idea?"

Gawain bursts into surprised laughter. "You know, you're the first one to say that outright?" he asks, smiling. "Most people are too polite - even Perks. Yes, they reacted terribly – I was promptly disowned, and they even asked my sister to bury the coordinates of this world deep into the archives that no one would know about it. She's married into the House of El, a fairly prestigious family on my original planet, so she'll actually be able to do it, too."

"Will she?"

"Probably," Gawain says. "But only because I also asked her to do it. She's far more reasonable than the rest of them; we still write to each other."

"Sisters are the best," Len agrees.

"You have some?"

"One - Lisa," Len tells him. Then, on an impulse and possibly a bit of abrupt homesickness, he adds, "She's the best thing ever."

Gawain beams at him. "I like you," he says firmly, as if he’s making a decision. "Want to be brothers?"

Len blinks at him.

"Not by birth," Gawain clarifies. "Blood-brothers. You defend me, I defend you, that sort of thing."

Len arches his eyebrows. "This is sudden," he drawls. "Normally a boy likes to be bought dinner first."

Gawain sniggers.

"What does an alien with superpowers need defending from, anyhow?"

"Rocks."

Len pauses, but no, Gawain seems totally sincere. "Rocks?"

"Glowing green rocks," Gawain says. "They fall in meteorites and give people weird powers, and I get sick anytime I'm near them."

"You know, I think I've seen that before," Len says, thinking of his 1950s misadventure with Savage and bird-people and no Mick. It'd been miserable. "Nth metal?"

"We usually just call it 'glowing rock'," Gawain says dryly. "But that works. So?"

“Have you considered just – avoiding the rocks?”

“I do most of the time,” he says, grimacing. “But there’s a lord with a whole suit made out of them, glowing green – Sir Luthor – we had an encounter, it’s hideously embarrassing, if the bards say anything about me wearing a dress just ignore them –”

Next stop: looking up a bard.

Presumably not of the D&D variety.

"Why me, though?” Len asks. “We just met."

"Because you appreciate your siblings," Gawain says. "And, more importantly, you know what things like radio and radar are."

Len snorts. "Space age man stuck in the iron age?"

"Don't get me wrong," Gawain says. "I love it here, to the point that I refused to leave. But sometimes..."

"You just want someone to watch TV with?"

Gawain brightens. "I have no idea what it's called in your language, but if Merle’s translation spell is working, yes. That. So much that. I have a set up for transmissions from home once we get back to the castle."

"Y'know, I was going to explore the castle," Len says, omitting the ‘and steal all the stuff’ part. ‎"But alien TV is definitely a bigger draw. Sign me up."

Gawain laughs. “Well, we’re not far away now,” he says cheerfully, and points.

The castle - more like a giant fortress-town, really - they head towards is very pretty.

Len says as much.

"Thanks," Art says. "She's gotten to be quite bustling of late, though I'm sure you'll find the number paltry, if what Merle says about you is correct – the number of men in the world is steadily increasing, so by your years, they must be everywhere."

"You have no idea," Len says, thinking wistfully of Central. "But still. I far prefer cities to countryside."

“Putting aside the people,” Beddy puts in, “I’m more interested in getting our guest here through the gates.”

Len twists to stare at him, which he thinks is fair given that Beddy has been the number one most suspicious guy out of the whole lot. “You want me in your home?”

Beddy smiles grimly. “The gates can detect bad intent.”

‎"…really?" Len asked, turning to look dubiously at them. "You have telepathic gates?"

"They read your heart, not your mind," Merle said.

"And without the poeticism?"

"It would not let you pass if your intentions are not pure," Beddy told him, starting to sound irritated. "What is unclear about that?"

"I just want to know if it's more like a mind-reader or a lie detector, that's all," Len said, making a move to cross his arms before realizing he was still on the goddamn horse and lunging to wrap his arms back around Art's waist.

"What's the difference?" Art asked.

"Well, a lie detector reads your body - if you lie, your heartbeat goes up, your body tightens from stress, etc. But if you can keep from being stressed, which you can learn with practice, it'll give a false negative and say you're on the up and up when you ain't."

"Huh," Art said.

"The spell of the gates scans intentions, not the body," Merle said. "...I think. Perhaps I should‎ check."

"Even if it is intentions, what counts as pure?" Len asked. "Say I believed that ol' Art here murdered my mom and that I was totally, fully‎ justified in killing him for it. Let's even go a step further and say that I was off my rocker delusional and I thought that justice was so important that everyone would be okay with me doing it, even Art. Hell, let's say I thought Art would thank me for doing it. My intentions, in my twisted worldview, are pretty damn pure; I think I'm doing good work, and I even managed to convince myself that you will all like it, which means I don't believe that I mean any of you any harm. Would that count?"

They all blinked at him.

"I don't," Len clarified, just in case. "My mom died when I was a kid, totally unrelated – in a different millennium, even. I'm just saying."

"Keep 'just saying' things like that," Merle said. "It's a good point. I'll look into it right away."

Art pats Len’s hand. “I knew you’d be an excellent addition to Camelot."

Len laughs.

"What?"

"Wait, your city is actually called Camelot? Like King Arthur Camelot?"

"Well, yes," Art says, sounding puzzled. "That's Camelot, and I'm Arthur, and also the king, so...?"

Len nearly falls off the horse, shouting, "What?!"

Damnit, he knew he should’ve watched Sword in the Stone with Lisa when she’d asked.

(Merle crowing I told you we were the age of heroes doesn't help at all.)

A/N: @daughterofscotland requested this literally YEARS ago, for which I am overwhelmingly sorry - I tried so many times to write this and came up with nothing I like. I still don't like this very much, but I've accepted it's never going to happen so I'm just going to post it. Happy birthday and much, much, MUCH belated gift!

This was originally several chapters, with plans for more plot (yes, the wooden cup is Grail, no, Len has no idea and currently no one else has seen it; using it may or may not convey immortality; the Legends are going to show up and screw everything up as usual; dragons; at least one pun about being Len-o-lot that is going to go down very badly in the historical record; Morgan La Fae and/or Morgause showing up with Mordred; Mick is the reincarnation of Mordred as per my other fic on the subject and putting both incarnations in the same time is a problem, etc.), but...yeah. Anyone who wants to keep going with this is welcome to do so.

(Also all of the knight powers? actual canonical Arthurian legend powers that just happened to line up surprisingly well with DC characters.)

#leonard snart #mick rory #my fic #OLD fic #that I'm not especially happy with #but whatever

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day--six · 5 years

Text

From Luck // Pt. 5

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 Word Count: 2.7k Genre: Hogwarts au, fluff Member: Jae Summary: The Triwizard Tournament really only seems to be making your life harder, but in the best way possible.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You head straight to the kitchen after dinner. Thank god Wonpil had shown you where the kitchen was during your first semester. The amount of times you missed dinner and needed something to eat or just found yourself wandering there after a long day were too many to count. It also turned out to be a fantastic place to talk about things in secret. The house elves kept to themselves and really didn’t care what the students talked about, too busy with their own tasks to pay attention. You waited a good ten minutes before Jae finally showed up. You can barely sit still you’re so excited to tell him what you had found out.

“What did you need to tell me?” Jae questions as he slips onto the bench across from you.

“Have you heard of escape rooms before?” You ask, still fidgeting in your seat.

“Uh, yah I think so. Didn’t Wonpil do one last summer?”

“Yah! He did!” you exclaim, pleased that he remembered.

“Why? Do you want to do one?” Jae asks, raising and eyebrow.

“I mean, yah it would be fun but that’s beside the point! I was dropping something off in McGonagall’s office this morning and I overheard people talking. Your first task Jae! It’s going to be an escape room!” You exclaim. Jae shoots up from his chair, causing the bench to scrap across the stone floor. A few house elves turn to look at the two of you, but eventually go back to their work.

“What!” Jae exclaims, “You found out! Oh my gosh you’re amazing!” Jae says are he rushed over to you, pulling you up from where you sat and into a tight hug. You laugh into his chest, partly from his excitement, partly out of pure joy from the hug.

“It just so happened that I was there, I didn’t really do anything.” You say, looking up at him.

“But still! You found out! Oh man I was so stressed about this. Thank Merlin you heard them talking!” Jae laughs, picking you up slightly off the ground and spinning you around. You let out a gasp as he spins you around. After he sets you down there’s a moment of silence. Jae finally realized his actions and a deep blush was starting to set in.

“So, since it’s the Triwizard Tournament, I bet it’s going to be an escape room with magical elements to it right?” you ask, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks as well.

“I assume so… did you hear them say anything else?” Jae questions. You think for a moment, trying to remember the conversation you had overheard.

“They said something about having parts on both the ground and in the air. You should be fine though, you’re amazing at quidditch! You can outfly anyone!” you point out. Jae runs his fingers through his hair.

“I should try and find out if there has ever been an escape room in the wizarding world and see what it was like.” Jae mutters to himself.

“I’ll help you look! We can get the others to help as well.” You mention.

“I have a little less than three weeks left so we really need to get working!” Jae declares, “But for now, I have to get back to my dorm. I have a shit ton of work I need to do that I keep putting off. You’d think being one of the champions would make professors stopping giving me as much work but nope!” Jae says. You laugh and follow him out the kitchen after grabbing on of the left-over pastries from dinner.

“I would offer to help, but I don’t know any of that stuff yet.” You chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve been more help than I could ever ask for.” Jae said, beaming at you. You give Jae one last smile before the two of you split up and head back to your respective common rooms. You made it back and plopped down onto one of red sofas in front of a roaring fireplace. You let out a long sigh as you sunk further into the cushions. What a wild day this had been.

By the time everyone had gathered together again the word had already been spread between everyone about the next task and had even done some research. Wonpil and Sungjin had done a fair bit of research on escape rooms in the muggle world, you and Dowoon had focused on finding information about escape rooms or anything similar within the wizarding world and Jae and Brian had focused on learning or strengthening various spells so Jae would be well prepared for the day of the tournament.

“I still can’t believe you found out!” Wonpil exclaimed as he munched on some jelly slugs he had gotten from Honeydukes the last time they had gone to Hogsmeade.

“Thank merlin they did.” Jae said, sending the most warming and heart fluttering smile in your direction. You laughed weakly and said it was nothing.

“I wish we could find more information on it though. Even after figuring out what the challenge is, there still isn’t much we can do to help prepare for it…” you sighed.

“Simply knowing what the challenge is, is more than enough to make the task easier to deal with.” Jae stated.

“We’ve got a little more time to prepare, I’m sure once the task starts to get closer you’ll feel a little more confident. At least we know some of it is going to be in the air, which most likely means on a broom. And if there’s one thing you’re good at Jae, it’s flying.” Sungjin stated.

“Worse comes to worst I can just whip out some impressive moves on my broom.” Jae says and everyone laughs.

“I’m sure it won’t get to that point.” You laughed. The six of you finally calmed down and began retelling the information they had dug up and a couple possible ways Jae could prepare for the upcoming event. You and Wonpil eventually determined that even if this was some challenge a muggle got it wouldn’t even be something they could really prepare for. So basically, all that Jae could do was prefect the spells he knew and learn a couple new ones. Thank god Brian was so good at spells.

Days slowly rolled into weeks and before you knew it, the first task was right around the corner. You could see Jae was starting to get nervous, and you could see the others were getting just as nervous as you. Honestly, there’s no telling what to expect in a muggle escape room, what on earth was a wizard escape room going to be like? And how could there be a flying portion too it? It was questions like these that were constantly keeping you up at night. The day before the ask they were so consuming your thoughts you fully gave up on the concept of sleep and found yourself wandering down into the common room to do a bit of homework. Might as well get some work done if you’re going to be up the whole night. Naturally this didn’t last long, as you began to get hungry (and honestly just didn’t feel like spending three in the morning writing about different potions and their effects). You decided to give up on the homework and make the risky adventure down to the kitchen. If you could scrounge up a few pastries and maybe make yourself a warm cup of hot chocolate, maybe just maybe you would finally be able to fall asleep.

You somehow managed to make it all the way to the kitchen without even getting close to running into anyone. You only got scolded a few times from portraits as you passed saying that the light you had cast was to bright. When you slipped through the door you were shocked to find Jae already sitting at one of the long tables, his big round glasses sliding down his nose and his hair messy like he had been tossing and turning on it for a while before heading to the kitchen. He was wearing his baggy grey sweatpants and a big Slytherin colored sweatshirt which made you realized no one else has a house sweatshirt. If it hadn’t been for the Slytherin crest on the sweatshirt you would have been positive it was a piece of muggle clothing. You reminded yourself to ask him where he got it later.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned softly as you walked up towards him. Despite your best efforts to not scare him as you walked up, he still jumped and whipped his head around to look at you.

“Merlin’s beard you scared me (y/n).” he exclaimed, then took a breath in to calm down before continuing. “I just couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go for a late-night walk and ended up here.” You began to say something but Jae cut you off before you could get anything out. “And before you say anything, yes I know I should be getting sleep because tomorrow is a big and important day, but frankly at this point I’m way to stressed out to even think about sleeping.”

“Okay, well, I was going to make myself a cup of hot chocolate, how about I make us both a cup and we can talk; whether that’s about the tournament or just something to take your mind off of it.” You stated. Jae gave you a small smile.

“That sounds good to me.”

Almost all the house elves had called it a night so it was just you and Jae in the huge kitchen. Halfway through making your hot chocolate a house elf passed through, gave you a quick glance but said nothing. While you were heating up the drinks, you managed to find a few pastries to munch on while the two of you talked. You carefully carried everything over to the long table and passed the warm mug to jae before taking a seat next to him.

“So, what should we talk about?” you asked before taking a sip of your drink. Jae thought for a second.

“How are your classes going.” He asked.

“Pretty good, Potions is actually destroying me, but other than that I’d say things are going pretty well.” You answered. Jae laughed.

“Yah, buckle up because Potions will only get harder with each year.” He snorted, making you let out a loud groan.

“I’m doomed.” You cried.

“Hey, no worries, I’m pretty good at potions. Plus, I’ve already learned everything. I’ll help you out.” Jae said, puffing out his chest after declaring he was good with the subject.

“You better mean it because I’m going to be coming to you with all my questions now.” You said.

“Hey, the more I see you the better.” Jae said before truly thinking about the words that were coming out of his mouth. Que immediate panic and cursing himself right after uttering the words, blaming it all on the fact it was so late at night and the stress had finally had its way with him. He awkwardly picked up his spoon and started stirring his hot chocolate in an attempt to take his mind off the dumbest mistake he’s made all year. You, on the other hand, was on the verge of exploding. Had Jae just flirted with you? Were you just imagining it, perhaps the lack of sleep finally catching up to you? What should you say back? So many thoughts were running through your head, you hadn’t even realized how long the silence was.

“Well, since this is your last year you better get used to seeing me. I’m going to try and take up as much of your time as possible.” You finally found yourself answering. Where that came from, you had no idea, but you were just going to roll with it. Jae was shocked you had responded, and even flirted right back at him. After such a long pause, he thought for sure that he had creeped you out or something. Maybe he should spend more time up super late at night, everything seemed to be working out well for him.

You had shown up by his side in the kitchen right when he needed you. He was unbelievably stressed and nervous about the first task tomorrow and was slowly spiraling into a deep hole of despair, but then you showed up and pulled him out in a matter of seconds. God was he falling hard for you, but what on earth was he going to do about it? There were so many things to think about. First of all, even if you had flirted back that didn’t necessarily mean you liked him back. After all you were always hanging out with Sungjin, Jae had been almost positive something was going on there that the others didn’t know about. Also, what would his prideful, pureblood Slytherin family say if he started dating a muggleborn Gryffindor? To him, stuff like that meant absolutely nothing to him, and while his family wasn’t as crazy about that type of thing like some of his other Slytherin friends, the disappointment would be clear to almost anyone. Jae shook his head a little. Why on earth was he worrying about this now when he literally had a task tomorrow. As if you had read his mind you finally spoke up and broke the silence.

“As much as I love being here with you, you should probably head to bed soon. Can you imagine if Hogwart’s champion gets out there and then passes out from exhaustion? That would not go over well.” You laughed, trying to keep things as lighthearted as possible.

“Yah, I guess you’re right.” Jae grumbled, taking a big gulp of the last of his hot chocolate. You quickly finish your drink as well, grabbed one more pastry for the road, put your dishes in the nearest sink then headed out of the kitchen behind Jae.

The two of you walked down the quiet, dark halls side by side, your shoulders brushing against each other every now and then. Neither of you made any attempt to move, but instead found yourselves leaning in to each other a bit more, finding comfort in the physical reminder of each other’s presence. You eventually came up to the point where you had to split up to head to your respective common rooms, so you stopped and turned to Jae, who was already looking at you. Everything about that moment was perfect. The whole castle was still, and it felt as if you were the only two to exist. You couldn’t help yourself anymore. You took a step forward and wrapped your arms around Jae, burying your face into his big Slytherin sweatshirt. You felt jae tense up against you for a split second before melting into your embrace, wrapping his long arms around you. Jae’s scent took over all your senses, and his arms pulling you closer made your skin tingle from its presence. The two of you stayed that way for a long time.

“Make sure you get to sleep as soon as you get back.” You murmur into his chest. Jae simply hummed in response.

“Don’t worry too much about tomorrow, okay? I know everything will work out perfectly. You don’t have to take it seriously, just go out and have fun.” You spoke, earning another hum from Jae.

“Just please be careful…” you said, pulling him in tighter for a few more seconds before finally leaning back to get a look at his face, still keeping your arms wrapped around him.

“I’ll be there before you have to go for sure. We all will, okay?” you said, searching his eyes to get some sort of read on him. Jae cracked a small smile as he brushed some of your hair out of your face.

“I’ll sleep easy tonight knowing I get to see my number one supporter first thing in the morning.” He said, laughing quietly. You smiled up at him before finally letting go all the way. As soon as you did you were met with a cold and lonely emptiness that made you immediately regret letting go.

“I’ll see you in the morning (y/n).”

“Good night Jae.”

Next part coming soon...

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rainsonata · 5 years

Text

Doppelgänger 3/15

Chapter 03: Mind and Body

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: K+ Word Count: 6,368

Summary: It was like looking into a mirror. What happens when one’s reflection talks back and throws uncomfortable questions? El Search Party struggles to find entrance into the Demon Realm, but Dominator has a plan.

Alternative Title: Dominator fucked up and now everyone meets their alternative selves

AO3 Link / FF.NET Link

— [Chapter 01] [Chapter 02] [Chapter 03] [Chapter 04] [Chapter 05] [Chapter 06] [Chapter 07] [Chapter 08] [Chapter 09] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] —

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Class Notes:

Canon Path: Knight Emperor, Aether Sage, Daybreaker, Rage Hearts, Code: Esencia, Comet Crusader, Apsara, Empire Sword, Doom Bringer, Ishtar and Chevalier (Innocent), Bluhen

Alternate Path: Rune Slayer, Oz Sorcerer, Anemos, Furious Blade, Code: Ultimate, Fatal Phantom, Devi, Flame Lord, Dominator, Timoria and Abysser (Catastrophe), Richter

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Rage Hearts

A couple of dark elves were stationed when the El Search Party arrived at the outpost with heavy eyelids. The dark elf elder must have instructed them to stay behind if they were still in the process of evacuating the village. White masks obscured their faces, but their sharpened knives and bows positioned for an ambush made it clear they weren’t letting their guard down.

The sentry guardians let them cram under a tent for shelter from the rain. Black clouds clustered together in an erratic array, thunder striking against Rage’s eardrums as rain overflowed the undergrowth. Lightning flashed in irregular intervals as he and his friends waited in painful silence.

Packing that morning was less than a hassle. Apsara only forgot to retrieve her spare weapons once and it took less than three trips to pack Cavalier’s elaborate tea set customized from Lanox. Being a soldier himself, he didn’t own a lot of possessions. He spent most of the morning making sure nothing was left behind and that everyone was present and accounted for. They were waiting for Aether and Crusader when one of the dark elves spoke.

“Your party number seems to increase every time we meet.”

“I’m sorry?” Perplexed by what the dark elf meant, Rage did a mental headcount. There were nine of them, which was three short because Knight was gone and they were still waiting for two party members to rejoin. Did the dark elf mistaken?

“No, there are nine of us,” Apsara waved her finger in the air to recount their team members.

The dark elf didn’t falter from her statement, “I saw humans in the forest last night. Elder Edith told us not to attack on her command, but if you are hiding more humans...”

“We’re not,” Rage said. “If there were more of us, we would have told you.”

“How many people were there?” Code: Esencia asked.

“At least a dozen,” the other dark elf replied. “They were in smaller groups as you were.”

“Sorry for the wait,” Aether stepped under the tent. Her staff raised above her head to form a magical barrier shielding her from the rain. In contrast to the El Search Party, Aether remained dry aside from a few wrinkles that needed to be ironed out. “It took longer than I thought to get here with the sudden rain.”

“We’ll be outside if you humans need us,” the dark elf said. Her comrade nodded to the party and excuse themselves from the tent.

The dark elves have left the El Search Party with new information that must have been baffling for them because Daybringer had ceased talking to Bluhen, who had a sullen expression but nodded when she stopped to explain something. Empire, Ishtar, and Chevalier discussed among themselves on the implications of potential human allies. Esencia and Bringer were silent on the affair, deep in their thoughts and had nothing to contribute to the conversation.

There at least a dozen humans beside them! Rage was shocked by the number. They haven’t had new members join the El Search Party since Cavalier and Ishtar, who arrived as a pair in Lanox. Regardless, with strict policies to outsiders, it was unlikely for humans to settle in Varnimyr without the dark elves’ notice. Who were those strangers and what were the chances of coming into contact with them? With their luck, very likely.

“What’s going on? Everyone’s quiet,” Aether frowned.

“Sorry, Aisha. I could hardly sleep last night.” Apsara wiped her eyes to dust away a tear, “It was hard to.”

“Sorry about the late letter,” Aether chuckled. “Didn’t want you to worry for not saying where we were.”

“Where’s Chung?” Rage noted the absence of the young man.

The mage stuttered, “He’s occupied at the moment. Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon!”

Aether smiled, but her brows visibly twitching at an intensity that left little of her answer to be believed. Sitting between Rage and Apsara, she had her hands over the helm of her skirt, picking at a loose piece of thread she found. Worry and discomfort were apparent in how she crossed her legs with restlessness.

“What did you want to tell us?” Empire sat next to the mage.

Aether hummed, “There’s a trail leading to clues that might tell us what happened to Elsword. You must have seen the forest before you arrived.”

It was unlike anything they have seen before. Unevenly burned and charred, the trees were stripped bare of their bark and collapsed at the slightest human contact. The smell of smoke was still fresh in Rage’s mind. Parts of it were still burning from yesterday when Bluhen found the battle site until the downpour started. It was no ordinary fire. The burn marks stopped abruptly midway through the woods and the destructive path it laid in ruins was too well calculated to be of natural occurrence.

Albeit the clumsiness and likely lack of control over their magic, Rage could see the power in what was leftover from how through the fire was. He had doubts they would find anything of use from the remnants of the burned down forest. Broken bottles and discarded glass jars told the mercenary the damage was likely caused by another human. An arsonist in the Demon Realm? The magic humans used for magic was different than the blue fire Ishtar and Cavalier used in battle. Not as destructive as demon fire, but just as unpredictable and difficult to control without proper training.

“There were footprints, but as you may guess, most of it was gone by the time we found them.” Aether said, “Human footprints mixed with-”

“Corrupted Elrianode monsters,” Bluhen finished, long eyelashes brushing over green pupils. “Elsword wanted to assess the cause of the sudden spike in the presence of El. I agreed to go with him to ensure his safety, but we were split apart when we saw the monsters.”

That was new information for the El Search Party.

Bringer’s scowl grew deeper, uttering incohesive words that were less than savory. Apsara looked at Empire with concern as the red knight’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of her brother, clamping her gloved hands into tight fists. Quiet chatter spouted between some of the team members, words of hushed worry and fear.

Esencia wasn’t as transparent in her emotions, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. The Nasod queen placed her weight on Remy and Moby, patting them with gentleness unlike one of a Nasod.

“That idiot,” Aether growled. Red flashed across the mage’s features, a mixture of anger and regret, even guilt from how hard she gripped her staff if that was any indication. “He could have waited for us to help him with the investigation. Why does he think he has to deal with everything by himself?”

Knight would have taken their concern with a bashful laugh. Flustered but with an appreciative smile before covering his embarrassment with an apology, leaving one to wonder if the man was aware of the effect he had on others.

He was not the most intelligent of the bunch, but his impressive stamina and strive to move forward was admirable. That was what made Knight approachable and likable because he wasn’t threatening. Rare naivety for someone his age, yet it was his strength to explains why he had supportive friends willing to stay by his ideals.

“Um… The dark elves said they saw humans.” Apsara decided to change the topic to break the silence, “What does that mean? I thought we were the only ones. Did you see them, Aisha?”

The mage shook her head.

“It’s not improbable,” Ishtar said, the former demon monarch idly flicking her tail. “It would be naive to think we were the first outsiders the dark elves have met. Demons have invaded the human world before, so it’s not unlikely the same has happened in reverse.”

“Is it an invasion if there are only twelve of them?” Chevalier mused.

“Humans are capable even in small numbers,” Esencia stated.

That’s why humans won the Nasod War, Rage thought. Humans do not have half the abilities demons, but their adaptability and tenacity made up for it, as he had found out when he met the El Search Party. No one else was as foolish or stubborn as the children that were willing to put their lives on the line to rescue a bizarre cyborg experiment.

“Should we warn the dark elves?” Daybreaker asked.

“We don’t know what kind of people they are,” Apsara argued. “We should watch them first before we do anything. They could be new allies!”

“Or they can be new enemies,” Bringer drawled. “But still, not a bad idea.”

“I sense their El,” Bluhen said. “But they share the same wavelength as us. They have better control over it than the demons do.”

“What you described sounds like the shadows we fought in the Hall of El.” Aether crossed her arms.

The shadows’ physical appearances, movements, even their voices mirrored their real counterparts. They were manifestations of the El, whispering sweet promises and luring them into a false sense of security. It was a good thing none of them caved in because the El Search Party could have disbanded from missing members.

Daybreaker crossed examined the purple-haired woman with the eyes of a medic, taking note of the lack of open wounds or injuries. It didn’t appear that Aether partook in a recent fight. “You seem to be in good health, but what about Chung? Are the potions for him?”

“I guess you can say that,” Aether rubbed her forehead. “He’ll be here soon enough, hahaha…”

Her nervous and forced laughter left more questions than answers. She was going to leave red marks on her forehead if she kept rubbing it.

The mage mumbled, “What’s taking him so long?”

Rage narrowed his eyes. Aether was an intelligent young woman, but hiding information from the group was not what the mercenary appreciated if they were discussing the health of a fellow team member. Opening his mouth, he was ready to interrogate her before Empire interjected.

“We can wait for Chung, but you need to be honest with us if he doesn’t come in fifteen minutes.” Empire warned Aether, “I understand if he wants you to lie to spare our feelings, but we don’t have the time to play these charades.”

“Right…” Aether’s eyes averted.

“Did you find the remains?” Bringer ignored the leers Bluhen was sending him. “We found the loser’s scabbard. Did you call this meeting to tell us what we already know?”

It was strange his scabbard was the only thing remaining. Where did Knight’s greatsword go? His scabbard was identified closer to their campsite than where Rage thought the battle between their former leader and the monsters took place. The ones Bluhen fought must have been the last of them because they did not come across any on their way to the resting station to reunite with their teammates. Those beings held no inhibition or motivation of their own unless controlled by a Henir cultist.

“Remains?” Aether gawked at the brawler, “What are you talking about?”

“Ow, let go!” A familiar voice whined from outside the tent.

A male voice exclaimed, “You’re going to reopen your wounds if you walk like that!”

“Your grip is going to reopen them!” They huffed, “When did you get this strong? Easy on the hand holding!”

The voices grew louder in a cacophony.

Drenched from the rain was a young man emerging into the tent. He wore an unbuttoned thin white jacket with red lining on the edges and belts, which was also soaked from the inconvenient weather. Metallic pieces plated over his thighs for reasons Rage couldn’t understand. What were those plates supposed to protect? Red runes etched over his bare tanned skin on his arms and lower stomach, revealing more runes carved into his palms when he opened them.

Behind him was Crusader. The ponytailed man had an umbrella over his head with a medical kit in hand. Destroyer was strapped to his back and one arm interlocked around the other. His determination was visible as Crusader tugged his elbow inward and pulling them towards the center to Aether’s fire to warm up.

“If you don’t stay still, those scars will become permanent.” Crusader chastised.

“What’s another scar to add to the many?” He shrugged, “It’s not like we have a healer or anything.”

“We have Ain.”

“Since when does Ain heal?”

Aether groaned.

Long tangled hair tied into a lower ponytail, bangs pulled back by a black headband that did little to keep his fringe out of his eyes. Eyes the color of fire matched his hair. Rage gawked at his choice of clothes. What was he wearing? Those plates weren’t going to protect him from anything unless the demons wanted to attack his thighs.

“Why are you all so serious?” The man let out a nervous chuckle at his new audience, “You all look like someone just died.”

Empire stepped forward, eyes glazed over him. Arms across the newcomer’s shoulders, she croaked at the familiar face.

“Elsword?”

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Devi

The sun warmed the frigid forest undergrowth with tenderness. Devi smelled smoke coming from the fire Abysser kept alive throughout the night, waking up in hourly shifts to rekindle the dying light. It was a commitment she admired from a distance, not wanting to bother the demon in his morning ritual. Pots and pans clattered in the background as Abysser gathered ingredients he had stocked in Elrianode in preparation for breakfast.

Marigold glowed in the lower portion to indigo and maroon where the horizon was, a mild portion of the sky in what Devi assumed was what mornings were like in the Demon Realm. In contrast to the numerous moons rotating on their axis, the lonesome sun dipped past the hills. The forest’s chatter dismissed from activity as Devi examined her fingernails, curling them tight in anticipation with quivered lips.

She promised she would follow Flame.

Despite the inconvenience she had brought to the El Search Party because of Ran’s actions, Flame waited for her. What started as routine sparring sessions blossomed into more. They talked about their brothers, their hometowns, the food and people they saw, and the wonders they experienced on their journeys. Although the red knight wasn’t the brightest and sometimes needed things to be explained, her presence was candlelight when Devi was in a dark place.

Resting her head on her bag, Flame remained exhausted and woozy from last night fight, restless in sleep. Red strands fluttered past her face as she slept on her side, arms tucked into her body. Her chest rose with each passing breath, unaware of Devi sitting close by on a fallen log and watching over her.

The Rune Master meant the world to Flame. Devi understood the feeling of losing a close family member after finally catching a glimpse of them even for a short period of time. Raised in the army and asked to lead at a young age, Flame admitted that her happiest moment wasn’t reuniting with her father, but seeing Rune again and joining his band of oddballs in Velder. Devi couldn’t forget the rage and panic Flame had when she almost lost her brother to the El.

It was unfair to despise the boy for playing martyr out of the selfless belief that it would restore the El and everything would be fine and dandy. If that was his idea of justice, Devi could respect that, but placing his life in danger shortly after affected her more than she had expected herself to be.

Rune could have chosen not to listen to her story after she had blocked them from attacking her brother. No one was forcing him to accept Devi into the El Search Party or provide her the resources to strengthen her spear. Kindness seemed to run in the family because Rune never judged her for her decision to pursue power over more noble goals

“It sounds important to you, so I trust you.” He said when Devi gave him a quizzical eye.

Missing him? Eun asked.

Only because he brings her pain, Devi replied. She could hear the doubt in the fox spirit’s thoughts but knew better than to probe further.

If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have met Flame or the other party members, who were just as accepting. It was the kind of trust that could easily be taken advantage of by others.

Devi smelled the eggs and steamed rice. She considered offering a hand and helping Abysser set the table, but arrangements were already made with plates and bowls ready, utensils lined up and ready to feed five people.

There’s only five of us, Eun reminded her.

Six if we count you, Devi held a blank expression on that line of thought. They were seven people short with Rune’s whereabouts unknown. Flame was insistent on regrouping with the rest of their friends. When Devi woke up for her shift, Abysser passed a message that Dominator had found a way to reach them over their communication devices. They were going to leave after breakfast.

Flame moved. Stretching her limbs, she reached for her bag to retrieve a hairbrush to untangle her hair and rolled to the side to greet Devi.

“Mornin’” The fire knight yawned. “Did you sleep well?”

Smiling at her, Devi shook her head. “You know I can’t sleep through the night as well as you can.”

Which was true, because the Demon Realm wasn’t free from crickets. Their loud chirps made the forest come alive and left Devi lying in cold sweat from moving in her sleep. Summers in Demon Realm couldn’t escape insects either, it seemed.

“What’s on your mind?” Flame teased, “You look like Eun just told you Elsword ate the last steak.”

“I didn’t know he could eat that much!” Devi fumed, feeling her cheeks flush red and stuttered. “You should get ready for breakfast. We’re leaving after to meet up with the others.”

“You heard from them?” Flame was impressed. “That was quick!”

Devi thought about the effort Dominator must have put into making their means of communication functional despite Dark El tempering with it. His fascination with Nasods wasn’t something she understood nor did she care for, but if it helped them on their journey and made things more convenient, then she wasn’t going to complain. It wouldn’t surprise her if the scientist pulled an all-nighter.

“Why stop when you can make more improvements?” Dominator would have puffed his chest with pride.

Breakfast was a quiet affair with humble food and bread rationed among party members to last them for at least a few days for their upcoming expedition. With only five mouths to feed, although that would soon bump back to eleven, it didn’t take long to wash the dishes and clean up afterward. It felt like they were camping outside Atlas Station again, surrounded by a foreign environment and little known information to what was in their future.

It started raining when they finished packing. Water droplets pelted them as Devi clenched her gown to the side to avoid getting it wet, grumbling to herself with dismay. It felt like years since their last experienced proper rainfall, which was when they stopped at Atlas Station. Clouds cluttered and darkened without warning, releasing a downpour over their group as they searched for higher ground to avoid the overflowing river.

“Where did you say we were meeting them again?” Flame pressed her forehead against her palm, rubbing her eyes.

“I told them where we were,” Phantom said. “Hopefully they can find out through this rain.”

Phantom had a baby blue umbrella over his head and a matching scarf. Equally blue eyes locked into Devi’s, still shorter than the older woman even with the added centimeters from his armor. Gray clouds reflecting off his pupils, difficult to read and unpredictable as the way he fought the Hamel demons on their first meeting.

The other half of their group contacted him when Phantom was on patrol duty for the night. From then, the message was passed down the rest of their small group with Devi being the last to tell Flame.

“What are you going to do once we find Elsword?” Phantom asked.

“The same as before,” Devi flashed a sharp-fanged smile. “Ran is still out there and those demons won’t slaughter themselves.”

Phantom didn’t flinch at the half threat, but the disapproval was clear. If he was requesting for a different answer this time, then the guardian of Hamel was in for a disappointment.

Devi let out a humorless laugh. Her brother was still a high priority on her list and taking down the demons that brought him to his fate was her answer. She wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t a selfish act. It was personal and had little to no involvement with the grander scheme of the El or those involved with it. Ran was but a mere pawn to the demons that wished to invade Elrios and use their resources.

Strange how life played its pieces into place. She was on the same side as the man who wanted to take down her brother despite the risks that may jeopardize their relations.

“I hope you understand what it means if you can’t make him change his mind,” Phantom chose his words with care.

“I know,” Devi gripped her hands around her umbrella. They would have to take him down, a thought that had her clenched her teeth on the possibility. “I see them.”

She made out the outlines of Oz’s hat and Dominator’s drones residing behind the scientist, their shadows obscuring the other half of the El Search Party emerging from the storm. They regrouped under the trees, laying their weapons and possessions against the tree trunks. Most of them wore raincoats that went down to their knees with matching umbrellas.

“I hope there was no trouble getting here,” Phantom said. “Did you come across any demons?”

“Not as many as I thought there would be.” Anemos was apologetic, “Sorry for the wait!”

“Let’s not do this again,” Oz wiped her brow. “This place is big enough as is when we’re together.”

Devi agreed. They had wasted a day searching for each other and avoiding bringing attention to themselves because of their unceremonious entrance into a new world. Too many detours like in Elrios. They could be searching for answers on the Dark El, but time was running out.

“Any signs or clues to where Elsword is?” Abysser asked.

Richter leaned closer to where Anemos was and averted his gaze when addressed by the demon. Long strands of hair combed over his eyes. The priest stood still under the tree, rain trickling down his pale neck as he engaged in a locked staring contest with Abysser.

Abysser was the first to blink.

“We didn’t find anything, but there are tents nearby.” Abysser took the lack of response from Richter and the others for a no. “I think we’ll have luck if we ask the residents living here.”

“I see.”

Displeasure appeared on Richter’s face not unlike her own, just as irritated on the suggestion of cooperating with demons. They have a poor track record with demons outside of Timoria and Abysser, although that was to be expected with their reputation for giving demons trouble.

“Eve, is there a way you can search for Elsword?” Flame asked.

Gazing at her with sympathy, Ultimate said. “Remy and Moby can run a scan, but it will take time. They need time to analyze.”

“Thank you,” Flame was appreciative. “I guess that brings us back to square one on finding Elsword.”

“Unless we run into ourselves,” Blade mumbled.

“What?” Devi stared at the mercenary with intent, waiting for Blade to say he was joking. Okay, the old man was as likely to start joking when Dominator would stop gushing over ancient codes.

“I...may have brought us into the wrong Demon Realm and we might run into ourselves,” Dominator admitted with a sheepish grin.

Devi groaned, “Is that going to give us problems?”

There were correct Demon Realms now? Devi covered her face with a gloved hand and choked on her saliva. There were only so many times she could handle dimension-hopping. First, there was Elysion, then Elrianode, she guessed Demon Realm was another to add to the list.

“If they’re anything like us, they might be helpful in finding the brat,” Dominator mused. “Assuming they don’t see us as a threat.”

How reassuring, Eun yawned.

Not if we take them down first, Devi thought.

“Wrong Demon Realm or not, we still need a starting point to find Elsword.” Blade said, “I think Ciel is right in asking around. We can learn more about the Demon Realm and where we are.”

“We can do that after the rain stops,” Flame stared at the gray skies. “I doubt we’ll find anyone in this weather.”

Devi gazed at the sky too. It was the kind of weather for her and brother to sit around the fire for a cup of tea after dinner. She was always careful not to add too many tea leaves after the one time she forgot and used all of them in one sitting. Ran wouldn’t stop laughing about it afterward, but it didn’t make her feel bad because he offered to make a new pot of tea. If they were in a different Demon Realm, did that mean this Ran wasn’t the one she grew up with? Devi didn’t know what to think of that.

Alternatives of themselves. What were they like? Would her counterpart be nothing but a shadow of herself like those manifestations in the Hall of El? Or would the look-alike be a mirror image for Devi to notice the visible flaws until she had enough and lose her mind? If there was another Flame, would they still get along? Devi laid her head down and sighed. She had enough of this dimension bullshit.

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

Knight Emperor

“Who are you?” Knight stared at the sleeping figure. A trap set by demons? What were they doing here?

That couldn’t be a civilian. They shared his face. Not an exact copy because they wore their hair like they left a late-night party and had questionable clothes, but that wasn’t the point! How could that be possible? They felt too real to be an imitation like the shadows he had fought in the Temple of Trials.

“Ugh, my head hurts.” They stood up, wobbling with their hand over their head. “Woah, did I hit my head that hard? I see two of me!”

“You’re telling me,” Knight crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, studying his look alike. The red markings reminded him of the runes he studied when he still bothered going to school before picking up a sword. Well, they couldn’t both call themselves Elsword, so his counterpart was going to be named Rune. Wait, he was getting distracted... “Why are you here?”

“Better question,” Rune laughed. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Knight groaned at the question flipped on its head and back to himself. “Earthquakes are going on and we still don’t know anything about the Dark El. I need to get back to my friends and-”

“Wow, you’re searching for answers on that too?” That perked Rune’s attention, “I guess you really are me!”

Knight wasn’t as keen on being associated with his counterpart. Past experiences with similar entities were unpleasant and often ended in brawls. Would that happen again with this one? Knight closed his eyes. He was still exhausted from the fight.

“Hey, don’t space out on me. Are you okay?”

Knight jerked his head forward to the sound of rattling, his mind paused on the present and went to autopilot. Twisting his body, Knight threw himself in front of his counterpart and blocked a set of sharp teeth with his sword, shoving his counterpart to the ground with his free hand and away from the attacker. Knight opened his mouth to scream at Rune to leave, but nothing came out. He could feel the demon breathing down on him as it pinned him.

The demon attacked.

Water dripped from the high ceiling, echoing within the walls of the enclosure with no interruptions. The ground was damp and had a mossy smell to the gravel beneath Knight’s boots. He woke up to the sight of a sharp point of a crystal growing from the ceiling, pointing down to where he laid. Knight held his breath and pulled himself away before he could hurt himself from wanting to touch the crystal to see if it was as tough as his greatsword.

Fluorescent light radiated from crystals on the sides of the walls in pink, orange, blue, and purple, some as tall as a human adult. Some of the crystals sprouted from the ceiling and the ground up, forming an effective wall and blocking possible exits. Smaller rocks were placed strategically in the corners of the confinement. Shelves carved into the walls behind him with nothing but dust to greet Knight.

Where was he? Peeking through the gaps between the crystallized wall, repeated formations of crystals and boulders expanded with no end in sight. He was inside a cavern. A metallic smell stuck to the walls, one that Knight was well accustomed to by now. It smelled like blood.

Was this the Shadow Driller’s hideout? Knight turned around frantically in search for the demon that brought him here. It resembled the Shadow Snipers invading Hamel almost two years ago, but it looked stronger. Thorns protruded over its head and orange scales plated over its spine and limbs, standing on hind legs and claws reached out for him. It was easily taller than him by at least one to two heads. What was Knight supposed to do if there were more of them?

He needed to leave.

The Emperor Knight reached for his greatsword from the sheath on his back, feeling for his weapon and moving his arm back further when there was nothing. His blood turned into ice. The absence of his weapon was apparent.

He failed to keep his promise to his friends and got himself caught in a sticky situation. How long would it take for the El Search Party to figure out where he was? Knight himself didn’t know how far he was from his friends. He didn’t remember seeing a cave or a cavern close to their campsite.

Where did he drop his sword? It was by his side when Knight fought off the Elrianode monsters and found Rune, who was nowhere to be found.

A hollow feeling rose from his chest. Did Rune understand his intention and escape while Knight fought the Shadow Driller as a distraction? Or did Rune stay behind to fight and get caught as a prisoner?

His counterpart was less fazed by Knight’s existence than vice versa, but he didn’t seem to have bad intentions if his first response was to talk things out instead of attack. That was a change in pace for Knight after dealing with demons who felt more obliged to slice him in half rather than hold a conversation.

Rune said something about researching the Dark El. It sounded similar to the resolve Knight made with his friends after they pulled him out of the El’s influence. Determination mirrored back when Knight looked at his alternative, purpose and responsibility weighing on the shoulders of an eighteen-year-old with battle scars. Those scars looked worse than his, making Knight gain sudden self-conscious over his body. If it wasn’t for Bluhen, would he be similar to his other self? They had minute differences, but their mind and body were the same.

If Rune existed, then did the rest of the El Search Party exist as well? Knight tried to imagine meeting Aether or Bluhen’s alternatives, but the image of them wearing clothes as meager as Rune wasn’t something he was going to forget. Did it matter if they were different? They would still be his friends.

This was something Bringer would have enjoyed discussing because the brawler held a fascination for alternative dimensions and the like. Knight was sure he would explain how people like Rune were possible when they held more free will than any of the shadows they have encountered before. Until he could break his way out and find his friends, he was on his own.

Lifting his head, Knight was greeted by a pale face.

“Aaah!” Knight knocked his head against the wall, covering his head in pain. Hitting his head on a stone wall was a bad idea.

The small figure giggled, their face was well hidden by the hood they wore adorned with cat ears. A child? Not as tiny as Ishtar, they stood up to his shoulder in a one-piece suit and a jacket hoodie zipped up. Thin chains extended from their tailcoat with sharpened ends, matching the magenta-colored gloves they wore. The child’s clothes held no wrinkles, the insides of their hood patterned in purple diamonds and they weren’t sweating like Knight was. A recent captive?

Knight apologized and rubbed his head. “I didn’t know you were in there. Sorry if I bothered you.”

Were they always there? They looked so small with the layer of clothes on them. Assuming the silence for shyness, Knight didn’t push on the child and offered an encouraging smile. He had to stay strong. The child didn’t need to see him in distress or panic that he had no idea where they were. That’s what Empire did when they were children because she wanted him to believe in her. He would do the same for the new child.

“You don’t happen to know how to get out of here, do you?” Knight asked.

No response, not even nodding or shaking their head for any indication they heard him. They were holding something. The child held up a leather bag that was easily half of their weight, prompting Knight to accept it.

“You want me to open it?” Knight forgot to tell the child that it was his bag. How did they take it without his notice? Was he surprised to see another human being that he had let his guard down?

Knight emptied the bag and laid the contents side by side, gesturing the child to sit next to him. Snow fruits, desert sweet potatoes, and bulky carrots were bred to be sturdy vegetables, but he felt guilty when he saw how much they bruised. Expired tickets and flyers from COBO services came out of the back pockets, colors and lettering faded away and smelled like Sander Jerky. A leather sack held hundreds of millions of gold coins Knight had been saving to upgrade armor and weapons. Spices for food and fragment powder for crafting them into El Tear fragments were organized by color and type.

Initially organized into smaller compartments courtesy to Bringer, who complained about his habits for tossing everything together in the bag, well… Old habits are hard to break and Knight was back to square one. Elixirs, potions, crafting material, accessories, clothes, certificates, scrolls, and stamps cluttered his bag.

The child glared at the growing pile of trash.

“I know it’s a lot,” Knight was embarrassed. “There’s nothing to do here, I guess now is a good time to start organizing.”

He was never going to hear the end of this if Aether or Bringer found out that he forgot to keep his stuff clean. With two people, it was still a Herculean task sort out the trash and know what to keep. It was tempting to hold on to everything, but Knight felt a pair of eyes dig into the back of his neck when he suggested keeping the old coins the town alchemists no longer accepted for crafting services (1). Couldn’t a guy get a little nostalgic?

“That’s the last of it!” Knight smiled when they finished cleaning. “You didn’t have to help me, but thanks!”

The child ignored him, turning their head away from the knight. The disappointment was apparent at the mess he was making. Knight laughed nervously when he saw where they were looking. Kept in a flask the color of the wind El, he made out the cursive writing on a label “Blessed Giant Hand Potion” (2).

Next to it laid a greatsword Knight didn’t remember owning. Bulkier in appearance, the crossguard was more circular than what he was used to and the hilt had red belts attached. The blade itself was as wide as his head but thinner at the point. When Knight tested the greatsword, he was shocked that it was lighter than it looked. At closer inspection, he recognized the symbols on the hilt and blade to be runes he couldn’t understand. Was this Rune’s sword? What was it doing here and how did he pick it up without knowing? But still, this was good to have something to defend himself when they make their breakout.

“You think this will work?” Knight asked. What a dumb question, he thought, but he missed having someone to talk to despite their conversations being one-sided.

Knight sweated when the child smiled at him full of sharp teeth. They were going to break out with sheer force. That could work.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Knight chuckled, “Stay close to me.”

He choked on the breath-taking hold the child had, wrapping their arms in a binding hug around the waist. Knight gently tapped on their gloved hands to let go. The child loosened their grip, backing away and giving him room in preparation for their escape.

Feeling his hand over the crystallized wall, Knight snapped his eyes tight, concentrating on the spot with the weakest support. Unbottled elixir in hand, his lungs were on fire like he had inhaled sugar into his nostrils. His hands enlarged and Knight breathed.

One, two, three!

“Hyaaaah!” Knight charged.

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

Notes:

Old coins (1) - Once upon a time, Elsword had Secret Dungeon coins and separate crafting material for each Secret Dungeon set.

“Blessed Giant Hand Potion” (2) - An elixir that causes the character hands and weapon to become bigger and have an increase in damage boost.

#elsword #eltag #Elsword fanfiction #Doppelganger (Elsword)#mywriting #my writing #Elboy #Aisha (Elsword)#Rena (Elsword)#Raven (Elsword)#Eve (Elsword)#Chung (Elsword)#Ara (Elsword)#Elesis (Elsword)#Add (Elsword)#Lu (Elsword)#Ciel (Elsword)#Ain (Elsword)

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howtohero · 5 years

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#211 Breaking Up

They say that break up is hard to do, but they weren’t dealing with superpowered drama queens so they don’t even know. When you want to break up with the people you’re fighting crime with, things are going to get very sticky very fast. Whether it be calling it quits on your partner, dropping your sidekick or disbanding your entire team, we’re going to try our best to guide you through this complicated transition as smoothly as possible.

Calling it quits on your partner When you’ve been teaming-up and fighting crime with the same person for a while, things can get kind of rote. The banter gets stale, you both like being the handcuff guy, and you’ve discovered that that combo move that you guys do where your super strong partner picks you up and uses your metal body to bludgeon bad guys is actually very bad for your back. So, you make the decision to end the partnership. That’s fine, there’s no shame in that, people grow apart. (Edit: We feel the need to make it clear here that we are talking about emotionally growing apart. This is not a reference to Miketosis, the amazing budding man.) But now you’re left with the unenviable task of breaking this news to your partner, who could very well be four buses glued together and granted sentience by the Allsource of Allmagic. (Edit: This is also not a reference to Miketosis. This is obviously talking about Busses 4 Dayz. Come on Mike, it couldn’t have been more obvious. Stop emailing me. You’re clearly reaching here.)

When breaking up with your partner it is important to be kind and gentle. Tell them that you don’t think any less of them as a crime fighter and that you look forward to seeing them succeed in all of their future endeavors. Assure them that this isn’t the end of your friendship, merely your partnership, and that should they ever need a helping hand in their fight against super-crime, you’ll always be there. It’s important to couch the news that you’re done with this partnership in positive terms, because if this goes badly, you might be creating a whole new nemesis for yourself. As we’ve said dozens of times, superpowered people are generally just one bad day, or even one bad moment, away from going full blown supervillain. (Edit: Miketosis, come on, how could this be a reference to you? That doesn’t even make sense. You haven’t been spurned by someone you thought of as a friend and turned into a full blown disease-weaponizing, grenade-catapulting supervillain. Wait a minute... are you saying this is your supervillain moment?) If you slip up and tell them that the reason you’re breaking up is because you hate the way they yodel whenever they see a crime take place, I guarantee you that the next morning you’re going to find them astride a giant hellhorse (think hellhound but bigger and with a taste for sugar cubes) and strumming a guitar (that they pronounce “gee-tar”) and announcing to the world that they have decided to start committing crimes. So be careful. Let them down easy.

Dropping your sidekick Maybe you read our many rants about the dangers of having a child sidekick. (Reason #29 why having a child sidekick is a bad idea: They can easily be turned against you if your enemies just have better snacks.) Maybe you came to that conclusion all on your own. Maybe you somehow haven’t figured that out yet but you just think your child sidekick is annoying. Either way, you now have to dispose of this acrobatic ten-year-old that has grown rather fond of kicking criminals in the head alongside you. If you, for reasons known only to yourself, adopted this child at some point, then things get considerably trickier. Of course you could always just erase the child’s memories of your time together and then abandon them in an orphanage and never contact them again. That would be the simple solution. (Reason #42: You’re eventually going to convince yourself that this was a good idea and once you believe that, you’ll believe anything.) It is also the correct solution. Lobotomize and traumatize a child. Just go for it. It’s the only thing you can do. This is why you should never have a child sidekick and even if you are a fool and recruit a child soldier, you should not adopt them. Then you’re not only endangering a child, you’re endangering your own child. So don’t expect to win any parenting awards. (Reason #106: They’re going to keep posting your location on social media or live streaming your fights, which will allow other villains to find you.)

Children are notoriously temperamental. And they tend to be averse to change. So when dropping them from your team, expect to be met with some pushback. (Reason 6: That child doesn’t even know how to walk yet! What are you even thinking???) They’ll ask you why they can’t come with you any longer to fight the giant garbage monster in the Pacific Ocean like you guys used to do every week without fail. They’ll cry, they’ll beg, they might even kick you in the shin if that’s something you’ve taught them. But you must stay strong. Under no circumstance should you be bringing that child to fight the garbage monster. It’s bad enough you’ve already done it 51 times. But no more! However, you’re in an interesting position now. Because this child has been trained in hand to hand combat, and also might have superpowers. If you’re not wiping their memories and abandoning them, then that is potentially dangerous small child. So you need to keep them in your sights, just keep them out of the field. Give them a less combat-oriented roll on your team. Make them the head of your social media and youngsters-outreach program. Put them in charge of picking the phattest music for your battles. Or just agree to keep training and mentoring them until they’re old enough to fight crime for real. (Reason #1000: Uh hate to do this one again but I feel like it bears repeating but the child is a child.)

Disbanding the team It’s very rare that a team will just disband entirely. It’s far more likely that someone will just become disgruntled, have a tantrum, throw a table through a window and then get sucked into the vacuum of space because you can’t just be smashing windows in the space base. And then all you gotta do is replace that guy and window. So when a team breaks up for real, you know something dicey went down. Maybe some new fancy law came out and everybody disagreed over whether or not it was a lawful law or an awful law. Maybe one of the team members revealed that they’d secretly been coming up with elaborate plots to murder everyone else on the team. In case of emergency of course. Maybe you all just got hit with the pretty irked plague (which is a watered-down version of Karalaxus’ rage-plague that just makes people irritable) and now you all can’t stand one another. Regardless, things have become untenable in your HQ and this team needs to be disbanded.

If you want to fully shut down a superhero organization you need to make decisive moves. Decommission and condemn the team’s headquarters. If another team moves in, then they’ll be seen as your team’s spiritual successors and we can’t be having any of that. Crash your team’s vehicle into a swamp. (A swamp is just a watered-down version of Karalaxus’ goo-ocean of foul smells, which is what Neptune is now that Karalaxus has wreaked havoc on it.) Whether it’s a car, or a long tandem-bike or a space shuttle, that thing needs to go into a swamp pronto. Just make sure you don’t crash it into a swamp that is inhabited by a swamp witch. Because they will ruin your day at the slightest provocation and crashing a space shuttle into their home is a little bit more than the slightest provocation. We need it to be completely unusable. Trademark the team’s name and sue anybody else who tries to use it. If some other group of heroes just starts using your name then did the team really disband? Or did it just get all new members? We don’t want there to be any room for interpretation here, we want this team gone.

Once all that silly logistical business is wrapped up, you need to fire all the members of your team. If you don’t have the power to do that, because you either didn’t read our post on leadership or messed up one of the steps, then you need to get everybody else to quit. (Our post on leadership is just a watered-down version of Karalaxus’ seminal “Proclamation of Sovereignty” in which the doom-bringer proclaimed that all life is forevermore subservient to the might of Karalaxus. It’s pretty compelling stuff and i invite all of you to give it a read.) Getting people to quite a superhero team is pretty easy. You just need to constantly show them up, rob them of their spotlight, and all around just publicly embarrass them, any chance you get. Superheroes like to save lives sure, but they also really like being recognized and praised for it. So by embarrassing them or just all around being better than them, you don’t risk them quitting superherodom entirely, you’re just going to push them into leaving your team and forming their own, without you. With any luck, this plan will just result in your team fracturing into several new superhero teams. Which is great, you’ve achieved your goal in the best way possible. Just be careful to avoid causing a superhero civil war when your team splits apart. You want things to me amicable between the former members of your team. You just don’t want them to be so friendly that they continue being a team. (Friendship is just a watered down version of Karalaxus’ concept of the circuit of souls, the never ending loop of life, which shall one day be completed, bringing about the reign of Karalaxus as was foretold by the prophecy passed down from the son to the father to the son to the father to the son and on and on and on until the day in which all shall become one.)

#superheroes #superhero #comics #comedy #humor #funny #break ups #break up advice #advice #disbanding a team #Miketosis #Karalaxus #child sidekicks #swamps #swamp witches

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chinatea · 6 years

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Jikook AU #3. (WIP)

Tags: Supernatural AU, Prince Jimin, Innocent Jimin, Sand Master Jungkook, Sand, Lots of sand, Deserts and Dunes, Aesthetics, Dreamy, Stalking, Seduction of the Innocent, Dark Ending.

(Updates will be irregular and short, tbh, because this is a short fic, I dunno why I’m splitting it even further, but you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes. Will be posted on AO3 when done.)

(THIS IS A NON-PERSONA FIC, OKAY. YEAH, I WRITE THOSE, TOO.)

Part 1.

The king has been writing letters for as long as Jimin remembers.

Their kingdom is dying, but here, in the safety of the palace, it is but a muted echo, a whisper shared in secrecy between the serving folk.

Jimin was born in the palace, raised in the palace and is destined to die here, too. The outside world is as ephemeral to him as a dream, existing only in the meandering stories of his mentors. The stories of warm people and treacherous dead ends, hidden among the streets so narrow one could barely squeeze through. He wishes he could experience it all, if only for a day, breathe in the smoky spices of his people, drown in the daily hubbub of a bustling bazaar, but come next morning, that dream escapes through the cracks of the ancient walls somewhere Jimin could never possibly follow.

For he is the youngest prince - he belongs here. As moon belongs in the sky, as fish belongs in the sea.

(Here, in the world of sand and wind, the sea, of course, is nothing but another dream wisp.)

Being the youngest means to bring luck and good fortune into the family. That is his sacred duty. The reason he is alive. That is also why he is prohibited to ever leave the palace grounds. The moment his feet brush the stones that are not of the palace, his family is doomed. Or so the story goes - a mere legend but who would dare to disobey and taunt the Fate herself? People in power are most superstitious.

Fettered he may be, still, Jimin has been raised with kindness, his wishes indulged, his whims obeyed - all but one, of course. The affairs of the outside world have also been kept out of his concern. The king and his letters, the occasional visitors, his brother’s sudden disappearance and his mother’s tears - all of that existed in a different world from his. Might as well be another dream.

He has his own reality, instead - his routine devoted to studies. Music, dance and sacrilegious reading. Tending to his mind as well as his body. He is the soul of the palace and his beauty reflects the vitality of their dynasty that has been prospering for a thousand of years now. Truly, the gods have been gracious.

It’s not often he is called to the great hall, the heart of their palace, where the king holds his daily sittings. Oftentimes Jimin feels lost in such a vast open space, a tiny speck surrounded by massive columns that soar high and imperious as in a vain attempt to bring them closer to the sun - they say the titans build them, long before humans were even in the picture. That is why they’re so humongous. That is why every word uttered travels great distance before echoing off the stone, magnifying it in intensity.

It’s no coincidence that only the king is allowed to speak in full voice here, the rest of them resorting to humble whispers. And Jimin barely utters anything at all. He’s only ever invited to play an instrument - a lute or banjo. And Jimin loves doing it. It brings a smile onto the king’s face - his father’s face.

The day he’s summoned again makes his heartbeat quicken just so. As much as he’s removed from the matters of their kingdom, he is not completely oblivious. Not long ago, his ears have caught a whisper of a whisper - something is happening outside the walls. The City’s walls. Somewhere far away where only dreams dwell.

Spurred by his curiosity, he hurries out of his midday bath, giddy with excitement as his attendants wrap him into layers of gauzy fabric, their movements ritualistic and solem. As much as he’s impatient, he understands that the youngest prince is the soul of the palace, hence he must look impeccable, especially in the eyes of the outsiders.

The sight that greets him in the great hall upon his arrival, however, dampens his spirits. The king seems...Jimin can’t really ascribe an emotion to his face. Maybe it’s grief, although Jimin could never be sure - grief exists in a place beyond his comprehension. He only knows the occasional melancholy of things.

Wordless, Jimin bows and lowers himself on one of the pillows by the king’s elevated seat, reserved for the members of the royal family - they are the only people who can remain seated in the king’s presence, the rest of the court keeping their distance respectfully, their heads lowered.

As he picks up a light lute, ready to start on a melody that his father finds most pleasurable, he’s immediately hushed with a brisk wave of the king’s hand, his eyed lidded in deep thought. Jimin’s fingers stay still, barely touching the strings, as the silence becomes their only music.

“Bring him in.” The king’s tired voice is barely above whisper. It barely cuts through the heavy silence of the hall.

Jimin waits with bated breath as the thudding of marching footsteps reverberate through the space like thunderclaps. It’s sinister and Jimin has half a mind to slink back into his chamber - the comfort of his books and blankets, only his curiosity gets the better of him.

The man the guardsmen bring forth is not of this land, that much is certain. His clothes are well-traveled, dusty from sand and grime, his looks have a rough edge to him, which strangely only adds to his handsome allure. Jimin has never seen a foreigner before, let alone so striking, that he allows himself to just stare, agog, at the stranger, along with the rest of the court.

“What good a single man would do us?” the king mutters under his breath, as if musing to himself. “I asked - I begged - for an army. Is this how my brother owes his debts?”

The stranger smiles at him and it’s not a kind smile - it’s not an evil smile, either. But there is something wicked behind it, something ancient - the smile of a man who knows many secrets.

“I am the army.”

Spoken with the conviction that cannot be wavered. Jimin doesn’t doubt it for a second, but the king slams his fist on the armrest in fury as a round of gasps rolls through the crowd. The king never - never - shows anger.

“How dare you mock me.”

Unperturbed by the outburst, the stranger, then, brings up his hand and opens his palm - a handful of sand dust piled in the center of it. Jimin almost leans off his seat in order to get a better look; almost rolls off it, a silent gasp of surprise caught in his throat when the sand rises off the palm, shaping up into a miniature whirl, its enchanting dance leaving Jimin riveting with awe.

A wave of whispers disturbs their court. Even his mother, ever the serene matron, loses her composure for a moment, lips parting in wonderment.

The king, however, begs to differ.

“Am I supposed to be impressed with your parlor tricks?”

“Perhaps not,” the stranger admits. “But are you sure you are looking in the right direction, my king?”

He points, then, towards the murky horizon, many eyes following the smooth flow of his hand, as if enchanted - there are gasps. There are voices, murmurs of wonder.

Jimin rises on his knees to peer beyond the open balcony into the vastness of the desert, encroaching onto the city from all sides. There is always something predatory about the sands, the dunes holding them in their clutches, waiting for the day it could swallow them all. And today...

Jimin is startled to realize that it might not be as far-fetched a truth. The sight leaves him invigorated as he takes in the sand columns in the distance, streaming down from the skies, all of them mirroring the dance of the little whirl on the stranger’s palm. They are too far to cause any real damage to the city walls, but if they were to reach them, the city would be left in ruins, no doubt about that.

Jimin shivers, as the cold fingers of tangible fear grip at the base of his spine.

“Are you impressed now, my king?” his voice runs as smooth as the sand between his fingers the moment he lets his hand fall - the distant whirls dispersing just as effortlessly, evaporating into the thin air. “Or maybe you think it’s some kind of trick? An illusion? Maybe you want me to raise one in the middle of this hall?”

“No. I believe you.”

The king’s face is pale, hands gripping painfully at the armrests of his throne. He looks like a tired old man. “If you swear to protect my land, you can have any reward you want.”

“I’m sure we can arrange on a suitable price.” The stranger’s eyes find Jimin’s, for the first time, burning through him like incense - it leaves him breathless. “In due time.”

“What should we call you, magician?”

“Jeongguk.”

The name is carried through the hall in reverence - Jimin, too, can’t help but test it out on his lips, soundless to anyone but Jeongguk himself as his dark eyes burn through his very core, sparkling feelings that leave his limbs heavy, pinned to the ground - it frightens him.

He darts before he can change his mind, leaving his flute and his family behind - escaping while all eyes are on the newcomer. Once out of the Great Hall, he sprints all the way into his private quarters, uncaring if the guards see him run like their palace is on fire. His step is light and muted. He doesn’t look back even if he desperately wants to - even if he feels eyes on him. Many, many eyes watching him - the feeling doesn’t dissipate even in the safety of his own bedroom.

Somehow he doesn’t doubt for a moment, whomever this man may be, he’s here to stay.

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

And this is end of the only decently written part for now. Sighs.

#jikook au #very guilty pleasure #im sorry chimchim

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mostfacinorous · 6 years

Text

Whumptober 21st

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Harsh climate It had taken a long time for Loki to heal.

It turned out he had been concussed, and the skin of his arm had been frostbitten, before he could change into a form better suited to that cold. On top of that, he’d still been healing from the beating he’d taken on Asgard, and he’d been drugged during transport, on top of working Clint’s sleeping pills out of his system. And that was all not to mention the various hurts that Doom had ordered visited upon him.

All said, it was another two months before Loki was back to his old self, or as close to it as he was going to get.

He assured Steve that his magic was intact, as was his body, but Steve suspected that his mind was still bruised, sprained, and just suffering, in general. He’d lost so much, been through so much, and he was quiet, sad-- withdrawn. Part of which, Steve was sure, was because of his fear of taking liberties, as he put it.

Steve had no idea how to address that, how to put him more at ease. He just hated the way that Loki acted around him, like he was walking on eggshells. Not unlike the way the rest of the team acted around Loki.

The rest of the Avengers had taken Steve aside and told him he didn’t have to leave-- and neither did Loki. Clint was the most vocal on this point. They all felt guilty, for having let him be captured, and for the pain he’d been through. And it was clear, from Doom’s recordings, how much Loki had helped to protect Steve while they’d been captive. It earned him a certain amount of goodwill, though hardly a lot of it. And try though he might-- and Steve thought he was trying, Loki was… depressed, was probably the only word for it. And he had a hard time reaching out to the others, putting them at ease. Making friends.

Steve had no idea how to manage that. It wasn’t something they talked about much, when he was growing up, and while he couldn’t blame Loki for it in the least, he was itching to try and fix it the only way he knew how: To throw them both into work, and hope the distraction was good enough to do the trick.

Which was why Steve thought it was about time that Loki join them. The next time the Avengers were called out, he instructed Loki to suit up as well, and together they joined the others on the rooftop where the quinjet lay waiting.

“You sure about this, Steve?” Bruce asked, though it seemed casual-- not like an accusation or a warning. Loki was watching him, and Steve could tell he was waiting for hesitation, any wavering of Steve’s conviction. So he didn’t give them any hesitation at all. “I’m sure. Whatever Hydra’s after in the jungle, we’re gonna find it, and wipe them out if we can in the process.”

“As a reminder, there are also the natives to worry about. It’s not on Wakanda’s border, but it’s not far from it, which might cause trouble. The base Hydra’s set up is on the northern edge of the rainforest, and that means it’s smack dab on the border between Chad, Sudan, and the Central African Republic. Which means a lot of politics to keep abreast of, if we end up interacting with the locals.” Natasha was amazing at these debriefs, and Steve was more than happy to let her take the reins on that front.

“Another thing to keep in mind is that water is a scarcity, and if Hydra is tampering with the water table, there’s a lot of people and animals whose lives are going to be on the line.” Bruce added.

“I’ll have Pep get some folks on standby, just in case that’s what it is. Hydra seems like exactly the sort of assholes who would make a grab for power by controlling the water.” Tony already had his phone out, and Steve nodded his thanks to Bruce.

“And what am I to do?” Loki asked, though Steve could tell he was trying to sound confident.

“Well, Hydra’s main thing is usually guns, and as much as we can generally handle that, no one likes getting shot. So that trick of yours, with the shield? I was thinking we lead the way into the base with that, find who’s in charge, and then-- we haven’t had a lot of luck learning much about the organization, because the leaders all have hidden poison packets in their mouth, and we can’t stop them from breaking it and taking it. Or we couldn’t, until now. So once we have him, I’m going to need you to immobilize him, alright?”

Loki nodded-- maybe a touch too eagerly, but Steve didn’t think anyone would blame him. They all wanted to help, and Loki needed to know his specific skills had a use-- he wasn’t just being brought along because they couldn’t find a babysitter.

Plans set, they turned their attention to a briefing of the last known movements, motives, and tech of Hydra. It was amazing how little had changed in nearly a hundred years. ---

Stepping out of the Quinjet, Loki nearly swooned. He got himself together fairly quickly, but this heat and the moisture in the air-- he shuddered and checked his hands to be sure he hadn’t turned into his Jotun self. But no, this place was simply so horrible that it felt to his Aesir skin the same way most of the world felt to a Frost Giant. Delightful. His lip curled upwards, and he followed The Captain, hoping they could wrap this up fast, and return to the air conditioner. Loki was, quite suddenly, a fan of it.

“You alright there?” the Captain asked, ever watchful.

“I am fine. It has been rather a long time since I have stepped foot outside.” Loki pointed out, and did not miss the flash of guilt that graced the Captain’s features. Like most things, it was a good look on him, though Loki regretted being the cause of it, just the same.

“Well, after this, we’ll make more of an effort. Come on, though-- we need to get to cover before they come running; I’m sure someone’s noticed the quinjet setting down, invisible or not.”

Loki followed the Captain, only too aware of the feeling of sweat dripping down his neck, and the way it made his clothing feel more restrictive. Disgusting. He was going to reek within an hour.

They made it to the trees long before the doors opened to the Hydra stronghold, and were ready to rush them when they did. The handful of men sent to investigate their arrival was no match for Loki and the Avengers, and just as The Captain had asked, Loki erected a shield to lead them into the halls. Things got a little trickier when they reached doorways and the hall split, and Loki hesitated, unsure which way to go.

The Widow solved that, though, by grabbing the next man that charged at her, pressing her stunning baton between his jaws, and twisting his arm behind his back. He might have attempted a ‘hail Hydra’, but at her urging, instead gestured for them to take the left fork. Loki did, and with the help of their guide, they moved ever deeper, able to clear out the hold in small batches of assailants at a time. When they finally reached the leader-- or the man Loki could only assume was the leader, based on his being better dressed than the others, Loki was tired. The shield took effort and power to keep up, and what was more, the heat was sapping his energy faster than he had ever experienced.

Enough so that he was forced to drop the shield in order to immobilise the leader.

This, of course, proved to be a mistake. ---

Steve didn’t quite know what was happening. One second he and Loki were standing next to Baron Von Strucker, while the others checked to be sure there wasn’t anyone they’d missed on their way in, the next second there was an explosion, a lurching feeling, Loki collided with him, and then everything went white for a long second.

When he came to, his ears were still ringing and his head was spinning, but Von Strucker, Hydra, none of it was anywhere to be found. No damaged ruins, nothing. Just Loki and he, somewhere in the middle of the Sahara desert. And he could only assume it was magic.

“Loki?” He asked, already worried, initially for the safety of the rest of the Avengers, and then because Loki was laid out, looking like he was passed out. “Loki!”

He called again, more insistently, and Loki groaned and sat up slowly, clutching his head. His eyes were unfocused and he was pouring sweat, bright red-- and Steve wondered how long they’d both been out.

“Loki, what happened?”

“Captain?” He asked, confused and miserable sounding, and Steve crawled over to sit beside him, reaching for his head. He was burning up. Loki leaned into his hand, and Steve winced. If he was cooler than Loki, something had to be seriously wrong.

“Loki, we were in Hydra, and then something blew up, and now we’re here. Do you remember what happened?”

Loki’s brow knitted together, and then he nodded. “Yes. We were in danger, so I used the last of my power to pull us away-- following the blast, I went in the same direction, and we’re here.” He looked around himself, as if only realizing that here was less than ideal, too. He frowned.

“Okay.” Steve said, trying to keep calm. There was no sign of trees or buildings, just a lot of empty desert. “You said you followed the blast, right? And the desert was to the North of us, so if we travel south, we should reach shade and water and maybe the rest of the team, if they survived.”

Loki closed his eyes. “Captain, I’m very tired.” He said, and he sounded it.

“I know, Loki, but you have to get up and walk, or we’re going to burn up out here.”

Loki looked at him woefully. “It gets worse?” He asked, and Steve felt a pang.

He’d put Loki in this position, asked him to use his magic without knowing his limits, and--

“Loki, do you think you have enough magic left to turn back into the blue you? That’s colder, right? Would you be more comfortable like that--?”

Loki laughed, and it verged on hysteria. “This is what comfortable weather feels like in that form. If I turned now-- I think I would mummify within an hour.”

Steve sighed. “Okay, scratch that then. But we do need to get moving-- come on.”

He stood, then pulled Loki up, and Loki groaned, but got to his feet. “I can’t make it in this.” He told Steve, sounding defeated, and began shedding his armor.

With a start, Steve realized how much metal and leather Loki was wearing-- no wonder he was so uncomfortable. Come to think of it, Steve’s jacket wasn’t doing him any favors, either. He peeled it off, but tied the arms around his waist, just in case they didn’t make it indoors by nightfall.

“Night’s going to be awful cold, if we don’t find somewhere more comfortable to be,” He warned. “You may want to hold on to some of those upper layers.”

“If I get cold, I have another skin for that.” Loki answered, and Steve didn’t really have the energy to argue. Especially when he was probably right.

He looked up, trying to figure out the sun and around what time it was, so he could at least get them pointed in the right general direction.

Loki was down to an elbow length thin black undershirt and a pair of long woven pants, by the time he finished, and Steve gestured ahead.

“Come on. I’m afraid it’s going to be a long walk.”

Loki nodded and began, though his steps were already more of a stumble, and Steve couldn’t help but wonder how bad of shape he was in.

Either way, though, it didn’t matter much; there wasn’t much he could do about it out here. And considering how high the sun was, they had hours more of this heat before they’d get a break. He just hoped that Loki wouldn’t pass out, because he wouldn’t make it far if he had to carry him.

They trudged on in silence, the sandy ground hard and only almost barren-- dead and shriveled and stunted undergrowth sprinkled throughout the landscape, speaking of past rains that had allowed it to grow before abandoning it. Steve could hear the untouched dried out mud cracking under their feet, and his lips felt like that, too.

And Loki… well, he was clearly faring far worse.

He stopped in place, and Steve stopped next to him, unable to bring himself to tell him they needed to keep going. Slowly, Loki turned to look at him, and licked his lips.

“I’ve… I’m not sweating anymore.” He said quietly, and Steve only realized then that it was so quiet out here, because even Loki’s whisper sounded loud.

“We’re going to be alright.” He promised, though he was half afraid it was a lie. “We’ve been going for a while, and eventually we’re going to hit a river, or a road, or it’s going to get dark, and we’ll be okay for a while. We just have to…” He gestured in the direction they were headed.

Loki sighed. “Do you suppose they are looking for you?” He asked.

Steve frowned. “I don’t know if they’d know we survived the blast.” He answered slowly. He’d been thinking a lot about that, in the last few hours. “And if they do, there’s no way for them to now you moved us, or in what direction, or how far-- I don’t think your magic leaves any kind of trail for them to trace. So… they might be. But we can’t count on them saving us.”

Loki looked like he’d cry, if he had liquid left in him for it.

Steve reached out to touch his shoulder, and Loki pulled instantly away, obviously blaming himself.

“Hey. I’m glad you got us out of there. We’re alive right now because of you.”

“And if we die-- if you die-- it will also be because of me.” He pointed out bitterly. Steve could see blood pooling on his lip from where it had cracked, Loki’s emotion making him contort his face beyond comfort.

“Look, there’s no point in talking like that.” Steve told him, feeling exhausted and hot and gross and beaten, but still unwilling to give up. “If it happens, we’ll both go, and it won’t matter who blames you, right?”

“I should only be so lucky,” Loki muttered, then shook his head. “You’re right. This is pointless. We cannot just stand here to wait for death. Let’s--” it was his turn to gesture, then start trudging forward again, leaving Steve to catch up.

Another hour or more of silence, and Steve started to notice the brush growing in a little healthier. A little greener. He nudged Loki. “Look,” he said, keeping his words short. “Plants. Means there’s water.”

Loki got a considering look and then hurried to the closest greener shrub and pulled a knife, slicing a few of the supple looking branches off near to the trunk of the plant. He pressed the raw end into his mouth and passed the other to Steve.

There was moisture there-- not much, but some, and it was blessedly cool in his mouth for a moment.

“There will be more of that ahead.” Loki told him, and Steve could hear the way his words slurred. He was in bad shape, but determined, and with the couple of drops of plant water on his tongue, Steve couldn’t blame him.

It was a tiny drop of hope, but it was the best they’d had in hours. He wanted to stop, to suck this one stupid little plant dry, to rest for a bit. But he had promised Loki that they would make it. And they had miles to go before they could sleep.

#whumptober #stoki #loki #steve rogers #frostshield #this one got loooong #that writing thing I do

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sunevial · 6 years

Text

The Followers: The Adviser

Part four of my DMP fanfic, set in the same universe as @internetremix‘s games. Enjoy!

“I…I just don’t get it…he was supposed to be here an hour ago,” a woman in a black sweatshirt mumbled, hugging one arm around her stomach and scrolling through her phone with the other. Slightly off balance, fidgeting with the cloth in her free hand, lips pursed, eyes shifting back and forth; well, at that point she was just lying through her teeth. This obviously wasn’t the first time this had happened. Taking another look at the woman, a small image faded in and out of existence over her head: a man kissing a woman who was most certainly not the desperate one on the phone. Oh what a pity.

“Excuse me, miss, pardon my interruption, but I couldn’t help but overhear,” the young man said, tapping the other woman on the shoulder and offering a small piece of paper. He smiled sympathetically. “I’m terribly sorry to tell you this, but I think you might want to call this number. Oh, and just so you know, it’s not her fault, she has no idea what’s going on.”

The woman hesitated, gingerly reaching out for the slip of paper. “I…I’m not sure I understand...” she stammered, her words trailing off once her fingers brushed the fresh ink. She furrowed her eyebrows, darkness spreading out from her irises and swirling within her pupils. Snatching the paper out of his hands, she stormed out of the library with fire just about bursting from her shouts. “That son of a-”

The young man just sighed and shook his head, his long white hair brushing across his face as his footsteps carried him into the endless rows of bookshelves. He blended in with the other academics roaming the aisles, his long white jacket draping over a crisp dress shirt and brown slacks. Well, he was fairly certain she wasn’t going to do anything that rash; she seemed to have a fairly good head on her shoulders and this was just the last proverbial straw. Then again, it would be far more interesting to see just how far off the rails she could go, see if this action would lead her to something more…drastic. But that wasn’t precisely his job. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

His fingers trailing along the book spines, images faded in and out of his vision. The Lieutenant with the Captain, the Witch at her potions, the Huntress stalking her prey, the slaughter at the clearing, the screams of the newly damned. He smirked, waving the scenes away with a hand. A fight? Without him? Well, he wasn’t too terribly upset about missing the fun; his place had never been on the battlefield proper. He was The Adviser, after all, the one who brought Her information that no one else could ever dream of discovering.

Maybe he had once been mortal; the details had always been somewhat up for debate and all anyone could discern is that at one point he did not exist, and at another point, he did. Whatever the case, he had never been precisely normal. Whereas most living things with any ounce of sense were drawn to structure in one way or another, he was always drawn to whatever option opposed that of the masses. He had a hunger for the contrary, for the strange, for the weird, and he sought it out whenever he could, twisting the universe in strange ways that seemed to ignore the laws of reality.

It was really inevitable that he would come across whispers of the Infinite Game, an endless cycle of death and rebirth lead by a woman no living mortal could really describe. Even rarer still were the whispers of people who had seen the games but did not play themselves, saying they had watched from the sidelines while the doomed played on for the audience’s twisted enjoyment. While he had first dismissed the rumors as nonsense, he slowly felt his curiosity get the better of him and felt every fiber of his being pulling him towards the games. So, the young man did what he did best and scoured the earth for information, pouring through tomes and asking anyone with connections to the worlds beyond. When he had exhausted them all, he was approached by a woman with short blonde hair and beckoned through a door he was certain had not been there before. She spoke rapidly yet in great detail, explaining how she had heard of his wish to see one of the games, and how she could very easily fulfill that wish if he so desired. To this day, he still blames lack of sleep for agreeing as quickly as he did.

He would give credit where credit was due; She did hold up her end of the bargain. He did indeed get to see one of the games. As it turns out, however, the easiest way to see one of the games was to become one of the players.

That is how he found himself standing in a strange mystical landscape with nine other people he could clearly see were irrefutably dead. While annoyed, and more than a little fearful of what would happen to a living player who died among a sea of the damned, he was not about to play entirely by her rules. As it turned out, though the majority of his powers were sapped by the rules of the realm, he still had one left at his disposal. Each time the sun dipped below the far horizon and the moon rose into the starry sky, he reached out into the minds of his fellow players and peeked at what She had assigned them this time around. Each time the moon fell beyond the clouds and the sun shone down upon the bodies, he stilled his tongue and carefully interjected when needed, steering the other players away from the innocents and towards the ones he knew without a doubt were causing this madness. Each time he did, he could feel Her increasing frustrations and Her unending curiosity. As the games had already begun and there were technically no rules in Her favor, She could not stop him.

In the end, they ended up losing just four members of the game between clever guesswork and a heavy heaping of luck. The young man simply breathed a sigh of relief and watched as the other players were swallowed up by the earth as the world collapsed, fully expecting the wrath of the Murder God to drag him down into the abyss alongside his new companions. Instead, he watched as a slender hand reached down out of the unending sky. Faced with the certainty of death or the uncertainty of whatever lied ahead, he knew he had really only one option.

He jumped and grabbed Her hand.

He stopped at the last tome on the shelf, gingerly removing a large red book bound in leather and emblazoned with five pointed stars. Out of place for a modern place such as this, but no one seemed to really notice it was there at all. A smile crossed his face. So, the wards had worked after all. Opening the book to a seemingly random page, he ran his finger along the words as the library bubbled away and was replaced with the bustling sounds of a street corner cafe.

Satisfied, he closed the book and turned the corner. Of all the tables outside the busy cafe, only one had any people at all. Weaving through the maze of chairs, he took a seat at the last open chair at the table. It was even set with silverware and a glass of ice water.

“You know, we were going to get you something else once she was done doing her witchy stuff,” the Lieutenant said with a smirk, pointing his head at the Witch and setting down a cup of coffee.

“I even got the good mint tea,” the Witch said with exaggerated sarcasm and a smirk, slowly sipping from the steaming mug.

“What can I say, I got bored,” the young man said with a smile, setting the book down on the metal table. “Besides, I figured I save you all a few dollars.”

“And us a trip out,” the Huntress replied, taking a large swig of what was presumably fruit juice. “Well, now we’ve got our Lieutenant, our Witch, our Adviser, and of course, our Huntress.”

“Just one more to go,” the Lieutenant sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, normally I’d say let’s go and find our remaining lovely lady. But since we’ve got you on hand and you’re actually good at this stuff, I’m going to defer to you on this one, Adviser. So, what’s it looking like?”

The young man simply picked up the glass and plucked an icecube between two of his fingers. Holding it up to the light, a vision sparked in the back of his mind. Starting out as not much more than garbled nonsense, the message quickly became clear as the sunlight pierced through the frozen crystals. A strange smile split his face as water dripped down his fingers and into his palm.

“Oh, we should go and find her alright,” he said, tossing the melting ice into a nearby bush and opening up the book once again. “I think we’re going to be in for a most interesting surprise.”

#fanfiction #internet remix #discord murder party #the followers

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star196 · 6 years

Text

Late Night Training

The lands of Lucis are filled to the brim with adventure and danger, travelers known as Hunters travel the kingdom protecting its citizens from daemons and any other threat that stands in their way. Currently the kingdom is under foreign occupation by the Niflheim Empire, having finally succeeded in the long bloody war they waged against Lucis. Despite the sudden change in power, the people still love their lives as best they can. Completely unaware of what truly is going on with the empire.

Somewhere near the Kelbass Grasslands, a group of four friends are traveling by foot across the plains in a hurry. The sun was setting rapidly which meant that the daemons would be appearing to cause recklessness across the kingdom. Being caught out in the dark by a daemon would mean instant death for a normal person, but a trained Hunter or members of the royal guard are more than capable of handling themselves. The four continued to run along the grasslands, attempting to reach the safety of the parking spot.

“GAh! I told you we shouldn’t have gone into that cave! We wouldn’t be rushing back to the car at this hour if we hadn’t!” Prompto shakily said.

Noctis rolled his eyes, “Cool it will you. It’s not like we’ve done this before.”

“Indeed, but it’s this same recklessness that gets us into more trouble than we should.” Ignis stated, “I highly suggest next time we go ‘treasure hunting’ that we at least plan to find a safe place to camp.”

“Or we could park the car much closer to the cave.” Gladio sarcastically said.

“It’s not like we can simply go off road, now can we?” Noctis said, a tone of annoyance in his voice. “Look, we got what we came for and we’re going to be fine.”

Prompto sighed, his sights focusing on the dark area around them, “At least nothing has appeared yet. That’s a good thing right?”

As if on cue, a pool of darkness appeared a couple of meters ahead of the group. They came to a halt, the other three glaring at Prompto.

“You just had to jinx us.” Gladio said.

Prompto rubbed the back of his head, “It could be w-“

“Shut it, Prompto!” Noctis hissed, conjuring his sword.

The other three readied their weapons as two Red Giants emerged from the pool, a ferocity like no other emanating from the creatures.

“Noct, we are severely outmatched. It’s best we retreat!” Ignis instructed. Noctis waved him off, glaring at the Deamons in front of him.

“I’m not going anywhere. We’re standing our ground!” Noctis ordered.

Gladio swung his sword over his shoulder, “Works for me.”

Noctis instantly tossed out his sword to one of the daemons, warp striking the forearm. Ignis followed suit and began striking at its feet. Gladio and Prompto dealt with the other daemon as best they could. Prompto shooting it from afar while Gladio swung his massive sword against the creature’s legs. Try as hard as they could, their split efforts were not enough to even put an injury on the creatures. In fact, it only angered them even more and attacked furiously at the group.

“Are we doomed? I think we’re doomed!” Prompto shouted, dodging the giant’s fist.

“Noct, I suggest again that we should retreat.” Ignis suggested, tossing his daggers at the creatures.

“We can’t run! These things will just chase us!” Noctis said.

“I think we got another problem above us!” Gladio alerted, motioning to the imperial drop ship above them.

“Imperials?! At this hour?! Can’t we just get a break?” Prompto whined, reloading his gun while watching the dropship open its hatch.

“Be prepared for anything, with luck we might be able to have the daemons focus the imperials.” Ignis stated.

The four gathered around each other, looking up at the drop ship while the daemons slowly closing in on them. A figure soon leapt out from the ship, rapidly hurtling down towards them. They rolled out of the way in order to avoid the attack, but to their surprise the figure had attacked the daemons instead.

“Wait, is that…” Noctis mumbled.

“That’s Aranea!” Prompto said with a cheer.

“Don’t just stand there, we have to help her!” Ignis stated, rushing in to assist Aranea in battle. The other three quickly joined in the attack, assaulting one of the giants in a combined effort. The daemon was unable to fight back as quickly as its assailants and was rapidly defeated. The group focused their attacks on the second giant, defeating it with relative ease thanks to the help of Aranea Highwind. With the daemons disposed of, the four regrouped to take a breather. Aranea laughed at the sight, strutting her way towards them.

“Couldn’t last any longer than that, boys?” she said in her usual tone, hand on her hips as she eyed them closely.

“Aranea, what are you doing here?” Prompto asked. Trying his best to not look out of breath.

“I figured I’d start hunting daemons again, I spotted you having a little trouble with these giants and thought I’d lend a hand.” She said.

“Yea… trouble.” Noctis mumbled.

“It’s good to see you again, Aranea. Thank you for your help.” Ignis said.

Aranea smiled, “Any excuse to slay a few monsters.”

Gladio eyed her closely, his arms crossed. “This is the imperial general?”

“Captain, to be more exact. Don’t be so suspicious big guy, I don’t follow everything the empire says.” Aranea reassured.

“It’s alright, Gladio. We can vouch for her.” Noctis iterated.

“So where are you boys headed? A little late to be out for a stroll.” She joked.

“Back to Lestallum.” Noctis said, beginning to walk past Aranea.

“Noctis! I suggest we make camp for the night, it’s far too dangerous to go on the roads.” Ignis called out to him.

“I agree with four eyes, not exactly ideal conditions to be driving.” Aranea said.

“What about your airship?” Prompto asked.

Aranea smirked, pointing upwards to the now empty sky. “They won’t be back for a while. I guess I’m stuck with you for the time being. I saw a decent place to camp just south of here.”

Ignis nodded, motioning for the others to make way. Noctis groaned and trailed behind them, not exactly thrilled to be spending the night out. Eventually they reached the campsite and set up their supplies. The setup was left to Gladio and Ignis, while Prompto and Noct relaxed in their chairs. Aranea kept watch while the boys prepared camp. After everything was set Ignis began preparing his cooking station, searching through his recipe book for the perfect meal for the night. The other three were chatting by the campfire, Aranea simply eyed them. She admired how close they all were and how they acted as a team, even though their fighting style could use a little work. She made her way towards Ignis, not wanting to disturb the others from their conversation.

“What’s on the menu for tonight, four eyes?” she asked, leaning against the edge of the table.

Ignis chuckled, quickly glancing up at her, “I was thinking perhaps we could all have toad-steak drumsticks. We certainly have a surplus of that.” He said.

Aranea nodded, watching him beginning to prepare the food. “Well I certainly am looking forward to tasting your handiwork. Blondie over there raves about your cooking.”

“With Prompto around I have to make sure that each dish comes out the best they can be. But I have to watch how much I give him.”

Aranea gave a soft laugh, “And why’s that? Was he fat before?”

Ignis gave her a look that answered her question instantly. Aranea covered her mouth as she stifled a laugh. “No! Scrawny Prompto was fat?”

Ignis nodded, chopping the steak against the cutting board. “Yes, it is true. Our very own Prompto was in fact overweight. I have to keep him in check to not be constantly buying food on our pit stops.”

Aranea brushed her hair aside, leaning closer to Ignis. “And what about you, four eyes? Got any dark secrets?”

“I’m afraid I do not. But I have heard my fair share of royal secrets. None of which I can disclose of course.” He stated.

Aranea rolled her eyes, “Come on, not even one?”

Ignis simply shook his head as he tossed the meat onto the grill. Proceeding to chop a few lemons while they sizzled. Aranea sighed and looked at the other three, a small smile appearing on her face. She focused her sights back on Ignis as he put the finishing touches on his meal. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Ignis brought out five plates.

“Would you be kind enough to place a lemon on each plate.” He requested of her.

Aranea nodded, reaching for the slices of lemon. “Sure thing, four eyes.”

After she was done Ignis placed two drumsticks on each plate. He turned around and called everyone to grab their plates. Noctis and Prompto instantly bolted towards the table and grabbed their plates before rushing back to their seats. Gladio slowly made his way to them and took his, eying Aranea closely before walking back to the campfire. Aranea’s smile faded, giving him a small nod before he walked away.

“You’ll have to forgive Gladio, like I once did, he’s just making sure to keep a close watch you don’t slit anyone’s throat.” Ignis said, handing Aranea her plate.

Aranea gave a fake laugh, “I give a lot of people the same impression. I don’t mind.” She took a bite from her meal, her eyes widening as she chewed on the food. She wanted to voice her opinions but was too caught up in chewing. Instead, she simply pointed at the food and gave Ignis a thumbs up.

Ignis gave a small smile, “I take it that the meal is ok?” he asked.

Aranea swallowed her food and cleared her throat, “Ok? It’s beyond incredible! SO much better than the slop they serve in the army!” quickly she took another bite of her food, rivaling Prompto and Noctis on who can eat their food the fastest. The group ate their meal contently, light conversation being traded amongst them. Once they were all done, Ignis gathered the plates while the other three headed inside the tent to sleep. Aranea stayed outside to help Ignis clean up.

“I apologize that we do not have room for you in the tent. I’d let you have it all to yourself but a few of our members ‘desperately’ need to sleep in a tent.” Ignis said, the last bit carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Aranea smiled, “It’s alright, my men should be arriving back anytime soon. Our airship was in need of repairs, but I insisted they drop me off when we spotted you.” She said.

She handed him the last clean plate, placing it back into his container to be used the next time they make camp. Ignis wiped his hands on a rag, handing Aranea a separate one to use. They walked over by the fire and took seats across from each other, gazing at the night sky. Ignis focused his sights on Aranea while she was lost in thought.

“Aranea, the last time we spoke you expressed interest in leaving the empire. Have you decided what you’ll do?” he asked, snapping her out of her trance.

Aranea shook her head, “I have not. I… I most likely won’t.” she admitted.

“How come?”

Aranea took a deep breath, “I’m not sure what I’d do. I could hunt daemons again but being with the empire allows me access to so many resources I’ve never had.”

Ignis readjusted his glasses, relaxing in his chair, “I’m certain you’d be able to manage without the empire, I’ve seen you in action after all.”

“I’ve been with the empire for so long… I don’t know what they’d do.” Aranea said.

Ignis nodded, he stood up and took a seat next to Aranea. he took her hand and held it tightly. “I don’t blame you for worrying about that, the empire have done a number of hideous things. I can assure you though that if you ever decide to turn against them, it is more than likely that it will be them that turn tail.”

Aranea smiled at Ignis, she pulled her hand away and fixed her hair, “You have very high expectations of me.” She joked.

She stood up and motioned for Ignis to follow “Come on, I want to see you in action.”

Ignis followed her out into the dark field, close enough to the campsite in case a daemon showed up. “Itching for a bit of sparring practice?”

Aranea smirked, “You could say that.” She took hold of her lance and pointed it at Ignis, “I hope you don’t intend to fight me with those daggers.”

“If I had more time to analyze your fighting style, I most likely would.” He said, conjuring a lance of his own.

“Come along with me and you’ll be able to analyze me all you want.” Aranea said with a wink.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have a duty to uphold here.” Ignis said with a small smile.

Aranea swung her lance around and motioned for Ignis to strike, “Come at me, pretty boy.”

With his swift feet, Ignis launched himself at Aranea. Swinging his lance to strike at Aranea’s side. She quickly blocked it with her own and parried his attack, swinging him around to face her. She kicked him away and thrusted her lance at him. Ignis quickly brought up his own lance to block her attack but the sheer force was enough to knock him backwards. He landed on his feet and took a battle stance. Aranea smirked and began to circle him. She then suddenly launched herself in the air and came hurtling down to Ignis. He rolled out of the way and in retaliation he hocked his lance against Araneas and tugged it towards him. Aranea gasped and stumbled, holding onto her weapon tightly. She tugged it back and slashed at Ignis who sidestepped the attack.

“You’re not so bad on your feet.” She said, “You have a lot to learn though.”

Ignis readjusted his glasses and motioned with his digits. Aranea smirked before launching herself at Ignis once more. The two clashed their weapons repeatedly. Sparks erupting from the metal, a result of the ferocity from their training. With one last swing, Aranea hocked her lance onto Ignis’ and tugged him towards her. He was pulled up close to Aranea, their weapons at their sides as they stared into one another’s eyes. Aranea eyed him closely, unaware that she bit her lip while staring back at him. Ignis held his composure, however a light flush appeared on his face that betrayed his outward appearance.

“It’s a shame you won’t come along, but I respect the loyalty you have for the prince of edginess.” She leaned in closer, their noses only centimeters from touching. “I guess it’s time for me to… reconsider my own alliances.”

“I could always use an extra hand around here.” Ignis looked deeply into Aranea’s eyes, unaware that he was leaning closer to her. “Perhaps you could join us, if you ever decide to defect.”

Aranea smiled, leaning in closer. A rush of wind suddenly came upon the two. Aranea’s hair being tossed by the strength of it. The two slowly separated and looked upward at the airship that had appeared. A look of disappointment washed over Aranea, she softly nodded before giving Ignis a small smile.

“I’ll think about it. Thank you, Ignis.” She said, she prepared to jump onboard the airship before she heard Ignis speak.

“Aranea, wait.” He said. She turned to look at him and was suddenly pulled by the arm. Ignis pulled her into an embrace before closing the gap between their lips. Aranea’s eyes shot open, a dark shade of red appearing on her cheeks. She relaxed into the kiss, closing her eyes and held Ignis closely. They soon separated, gazing at one another once more.

“What was that for?” she asked playfully.

“Stay safe, Aranea. I hope we can see each other soon.” Ignis said, a smile on his face,

Aranea nodded and walked away from Ignis. “I’ll try and drop by frequently, pretty boy. Oh, and keep those kids safe.” She winked at him before leaping onto the airship. Ignis watched as it flew off into the night sky. A heavy sigh escaping his lips as he walked back to camp, his mind racing after the events that transpired.

“Don’t worry man, you’ll see her again soon.” Prompto said, hiding from behind the table.

“Prompto, get back to bed!” Ignis ordered.

#ffxv #ignis scientia #ignis x aranea #highspecs #ignea #final fantasy 15 #aranea

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