#honestly if you have not heard of Mystery Skulls Animated by now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serendipityunho · 4 years

Text

Cheat Codes (M)

❀ Genre: smut, angst, college au ❀ Pairing: dom!Seonghwa x brat!Reader (fem.) ❀ Word Count: 5.3k ❀ Warnings: explicit language, intoxication, brat taming, hair-pulling, fingering, biting kink, blowjob, teasing, clit play, dirty talk, begging, explicit sexual intercourse, a little bit of a fight between seonghwa and yunho, yunho got his feelings hurt :(

❀ Synopsis: "This party's boring, wanna get out of here?", may have perhaps led you to make the biggest mistake of your life by sleeping with your best friend's other best friend, your best friend who happens to be in love with you.

Another year, another number changed on his age. Despite that change, Yunho would always remain a child at heart, getting excited and wide-eyed at the birthday cake you’d always bake him. But for the past couple of years, there’s been a twist, he was able to drink legally. Since then, parties and gatherings were always wild, bringing a new meaning to the word ‘celebration’.

You’d do anything for your best friend, and he’d do anything for you. Yunho was there for you since you could remember, he was the first to show up with a bandaid when you fell off your bike or when you tripped over the rock chasing him around his house. It was an unbreakable bond, everyone knew it, they could see it, how close the two of you are.

“One time for the birthday bitch- Ow! What was that for?” Mingi shot Yunho a hurtful look as he rubbed his arm from Yunho’s warning punch.

“Call me a bitch one more time and let’s see where that leads you,” he was obviously kidding, who in their right mind would ever dare to harm Mingi? All he does is just vibe in his own little world, smiling at every living thing.

This year, it was a whole lot more different compared to his usual birthday bashes. The girls, the beer kegs, the rave lights, the party animals? Not a single one in sight. Yunho thought it was time for a change in the annual scenery, it definitely let the both of you breathe a little bit more.

To be honest, it felt quite unusual without the booming music and sweaty bodies sexually grinding against one another. Not that you were complaining, it was a relief not to witness any more wild scenes.

Last time, San had to get stitches on his head as a result of slipping off the diving board. And Mingi? Let’s spare the details and just say his chest was in pain from a Hennessy-drunk-Wooyoung trying to vacuum his ‘tiddies’. Don’t ask how he managed to secure a vacuum in the first place.

“Happy birthday, shithead,” was the first thing you say to him, pulling yourself onto one of the kitchen stools as you watch him gulp down a cup of whatever mix of alcohol he had swirling in there.

“Thank you, shithead, want a drink?” Yunho always offered you drinks whenever he had the chance, getting you drunk was always his favourite thing to do. Why? It was so he could freely express his feelings for you without the fear of you remembering it the next day.

How did you know that? Yunho had once underestimated your drinking ability. It was quite a night to remember when Yunho mistook your fuller cup of alcohol for his, making him spew out the most cooing confession you’ve ever heard.

It honestly didn’t come as a surprise. One of you was doomed to fall for the other, he just happened to be the first.

“No thanks, we’re keeping it calm this time, remember?”

“Right, right. Calm.”

Several of his friends had been invited to Yunho’s little birthday gathering. They had just been as confused as you were when you were told there was no big party this year. But, of course, none of them questioned the birthday boy of his intentions.

You’ve familiarised yourself with their faces around campus, but San and Wooyoung were the only two you’ve actually brought yourself to talk to beside Mingi occasionally. The two were tight-knit, maybe even more so than Yunho and yourself. A pair who wreak chaos and havoc everywhere they go. No one could ever forget the time Wooyoung walked the walk of shame with nothing but a pizza box covering his lower region and San’s beanie on his head.

“You never told me what’s with the sudden change,” no one had really asked Yunho, maybe that’s what he liked about them, the suppressed urge to ask a million questions. “No girls accepted your party invites? Shocking.”

“No, it’s not that,” Yunho sighed, leaning back against the counter with his hand wrapped on the edge. “I can’t have big loud parties for the rest of my life, you know?”

“And what about it?”

“Don’t know, I just felt like having people I actually care about here,” it was rare to have a friend like Yunho, sure he was easy to talk to but that doesn’t automatically make someone his friend. “A time where I don’t have to fake a smile for an entire night because that shit just makes my face cramp.”

“Oh, please, don’t get all soft on me now. It’s your birthday, cheer up a bit, yeah?” You punched his shoulder playfully before hopping off the stool, grabbing his hand to lead him to the yelling boys in the backyard.

“Pftt- I’m not getting soft, you know it’s the Vodka.” oh, the excuses always amazed you.

You could feel goosebumps poking out from under your cold skin, the night was chilly with a few waves of shivering breezes, you couldn’t help but mentally scold yourself for forgetting to bring a jumper with you. Yunho probably had none left considering you’ve stolen almost all of them to bring home.

It was a mystery how none of these boys reacted the way you did to the cold, it was as if their skin was ice itself. They just continued yelling and throwing arms around each other like it wasn’t a single care in the world. The brooding effects of alcohol, you could say.

Yunho wasn’t particularly a wild drunk, but when he was, it was something that needed to be recorded and watched the morning after. He was never wildly drunk at his big birthday bashes but tonight was, as said, different. Drowning himself in bottles of soju until his pale skin flushed bright red, Jongho could probably mistake it for an apple and break his skull. God hopes that doesn’t happen.

Despite familiarising yourself with the new crew, there was one who you couldn’t help but pay attention to more. He wasn’t like the others, he didn’t give off San and Wooyoung’s chaotic behaviour, he didn’t carry Hongjoong’s talkative manner and he definitely doesn’t seem like he would replicate Mingi’s clumsiness or Jongho’s bright personality.

The best you could assume from this boy was that he would probably share the same bluntness as Yeosang. Cold and blunt. Nothing else.

Park Seonghwa.

There was something about him. Maybe it was the sense of mystery that caused him to occupy most of your headspace. He looks like he holds a lot of mystery, mysteries you were eager to explore.

You didn’t even realise you were staring blankly at him until the brooding pair of dark brown eyes met yours from across the circle of fold-out chairs, making you choke on the cheap liquor before quickly snapping your gaze away from the boy and to the drunken group of boys looking like they were playing ring-around-the-rosie.

It was just the two of you. Sitting in the array of seating with live entertainment before your eyes. Entertainment as in watching Mingi trying to lick his elbow. You could’ve sworn the people in front of you were simply just children in the bodies of grown men. Where did Yunho even find these boys?

Amusement from watching the chaos unfold before you quickly washed away as you kept your seat warm, watching your liquor hitting the sides of your cup as you lazily mixed it. Laughter boomed recurrently throughout the backyard, something that was honestly keeping you awake for the night.

You hate to say it but, you were bored as fuck.

Sure, it was nice to stray away from Yunho’s regular birthday bashes but a little more entertainment rather than alcohol and snacks would’ve been a little nice. The several bodies of young men seem like they’re having the time of their lives just dancing on the edge of the pool right now, one was surely destined to fall in and cause a chain reaction.

Seeing Yunho so happy and not actually fake smiling was enough to convince you to stay and not drag him to the closest nightclub. What the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.

“Hey,” the voice was nothing like you’d expect, soft and comforting but deep and brooding at the same time, making you snap your attention to the boy sitting down on the chair next to you.

“Hi,” was he as bored as you were? Looked like it. His cup was nearly as empty as yours.

“How long have you known Yunho?” Seonghwa asked, slouching back against the flimsy chair as he downed the last of his drink.

“Since we took our first baby steps. Childhood friend, and you?”

“Known the big guy since highschool,” that’s weird, Yunho never mentioned a guy named Park Seonghwa once in his life till now. Let alone, you’ve never even seen him around school since the two of you went together.

“I don’t remember him telling me about you until now. Did you go to the same school as us?”

“I studied abroad in Australia, that’s why he never mentioned me. Thought our friendship wouldn’t last by the time I got back so there was no point in bragging about it.”

Well that explains it then.

“Huh, interesting,” despite sitting a few feet away from the pool, the lights had illuminated his face perfectly, showing off his sharp features you were able to admire from up close when he moved seats next to you. There was one thing you were captivated by the most. His eyes.

They were very alluring eyes, it was as if they were hand-sculpted by an almighty deity itself.

His leather jacket framed his figure perfectly, a beautiful man with a sense of style? Makes you wonder if he has a girlfriend.

“Yeah, look,” Seonghwa sighed, running a hand through his sleek black hair before inching closer to you. “I don’t know how to say this but, this party is getting boring. Wanna get out of here?”

And so you were right.

“As much as I would like to, I don’t think I should keep him out of my sight.”

“We can just go somewhere more calmer like upstairs if you want?” You wanted to snort at his desperation. It was clear what his intentions were and he obviously wasn’t trying to hide it. Yet, you weren’t willing to hide yours either.

“Yeah,” you smirked, licking your top row of teeth before pushing yourself off the chair. “We can go upstairs.”

Seonghwa didn’t even bat an eye before taking a hold of your hand in his, literally dragging you back inside the house where he discarded his empty solo cup in the trash along with yours. The source of laughter grew quieter as the two of you descended further into the house, silently navigating up the staircase with nothing in mind other than the fact that both of you were obviously desperate for some sort of action.

Your easy agreement probably made it sound like you were one of people who slept with anyone they could, but that wasn’t the case. Turning down boys was practically your profession. But with Park Seonghwa? You wanted a taste of that.

You wanted a taste of his mystery, you wanted a touch of that tattoo strip on the side of his neck and the ones on his fingers. You just wanted to feel the flexed bicep underneath the tough leather jacket and the alcohol kissed lips against your neck and preferably on every inch of your body.

Who could blame you for wanting to?

“I didn’t think you were the desperate type,” Seonghwa lows, pushing you against the bedroom door as he locked it.

“I’m not,” your eyes flicker up to his, smirking as you place a hand on the side of his neck, tracing his tattoo with your finger. “You just happened to catch my attention recently.”

“I’m flattered, really,” Seonghwa smirked, eyeing your features with his arms caging you between his body and the door.

“Just fucking kiss me already.”

“Oh, you’re so desperate for me to just fuck you right now aren’t you?” Seonghwa growled, grabbing your waist and pushing you backwards onto the bed until you were flat on your back.

“You’re delusional if you think I’m going to beg for it,” patience wasn’t really on your side, you weren’t gifted with it at all. Especially when it came to fucking.

“Alright, bet.”

A pair of luscious lips slammed against yours in a matter of seconds, Seonghwa was pushing your body deeper into the mattress as his knee pushed open your legs and hands sliding up from your sides to your hands. It was as if you were kissing nothing but mouldable chocolate that tasted of a faint strawberry chapstick, kissing it so hungrily.

“You think I can’t make you beg? Just watch,” Seonghwa’s lips hovered over yours, barely parted as he pushed your legs further apart with his knee, fingers popping the button of your jeans before pulling down its zipper.

“I don’t give in ea- shit,” your head lurched forward as Seonghwa pressed his fingers against your clit, rubbing it slowly before guiding it down to your folds and cloaking his fingers with your wetness.

“Fuck, what was that? Starting to get wet for me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t have a stiffy here,” you could feel Seonghwa’s hard-on underneath his jeans rubbing against your thigh, making you smirk before subtly moving your leg.

“Are you trying to make me beg? No, I don’t play like that,” Seonghwa lowered his face against your neck with a low groan, sinking his long fingers into your pussy with ease before pumping them in and out, earning a quiet whine from you.

“Tsk, tsk, I can do this all night, you know?” You could feel a smirk against your neck, the chilling inhales and exhales against your skin sent shivers down your spine as Seonghwa quickened the pace of his fingers pumping in and out of you, causing your knees wanting to shut close.

“Fuck- Seonghwanggha,” he wasn’t kidding when he said he could make you beg. You were literally on the verge of it. His fingers weren’t enough and he knew that, they were just enough.

“Aw, are you getting needy? Hm? Do you want more?” The tease sent your brain into a frenzy, cloaked with a thick film of haze as Seonghwa starts to rub your clit with the palm of his hand while still fucking you with his fingers.

“Yes, jesus fucking christ- yes!”

“Yes what? Hm? What do you want?”

“You.”

“I need you to say it.”

“Ohmyfuckinggod- I want you to fuck me.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear that.”

“Fuck me, I want you to fuck me- ughhnah fuck,” a sharp pain brews against your neck, Seonghwa had caught the flesh of your neck between his teeth, biting it while pulling your jeans and panties down to the floor.

A moan slips out of your mouth as Seonghwa licks the spot on your neck, kissing it before sucking on your jawline. The sudden idea of where you were and what you were doing left your mind like a flash, all you could think of was being touched, touched by Seonghwa and kissing his tattoos on his fingers that were knuckles deep inside of you.

“Told you I would make you beg.”

Underestimation was always your weakness, tonight was a clear sign you should probably stop doing that.

“You flatter yourself too damn much,” you grit, flipping Seonghwa onto his back before lowering yourself onto the waistband of his black jeans, eyeing his bulging erection with a smirk.

“But was I wrong? I don’t think so,” Seonghwa sits up, holding the side of your face in one of his hands before sliding them up to your hair. Your mouth shoots wide open as Seonghwa suddenly grabs a hold of your hair, pulling it back to expose the bruised skin on your neck.

Oh, how much you wanted to just rip his tongue out for his reckless teasing. It was driving you wild, too insanely wild. But you love it.

His belt unbuckled with ease as you yank his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, freeing his hardened cock that just hit his stomach. Your shirt already found itself discarded onto the floor with the rest of the items pulled off your body, as if they were just another decorative piece on the floor.

The longer he watched you with a cocky smirk, the more you wanted to just slap it off. But you were so turned on. So, so turned on you could practically feel your wetness smearing between your thighs.

A small wince shot out from above you as Seonghwa hissed through his gritted teeth, staring down at his dick in the palm of your hands, squeezing it lightly before slowly pumping. You knew if you decided to tease him, it wouldn’t end well for you, what else could you expect from a man like this?

“Jesus fucking christ,” Seonghwa moans, head falling back as he props himself up with his elbows. The tip of his dick was itching to hit the back of your throat any second now, just waiting for him to buck his hip up into your mouth.

It was the brief groan from the back of your throat that sent Seonghwa’s thighs squirming and abdomen tensing hard. You could tell he was enjoying the way your tongue swirled around the base of his cock, pressing against his length with enough pressure to have him gripping your hair.

Just the sound of him reacting to your mouth sent your head into a cloud full of lust. You wanted more and the best you could do at the moment was just rub your thighs together in anticipation as your eyes shot up to Seonghwa’s, droopy and filled with nothing but desperation.

“Fuck, you’re good,” his scrunched up face said it all. “Come here.”

You remove your lips from his throbbing length with a kissing sound before climbing on top of him only to be flipped right around, wrists pinned down on either side of your head. It was impressive how he could do that so nonchalantly with nothing but a cocky smirk.

“I should’ve guessed you were a brat,” Seonghwa hissed, brushing his tip against your clit. The urge to just buck your hips against his was killing you but you knew it would only do more harm than pleasure.

“Then I guess you better fuck me like one.”

The fire in his eyes was more than any sentence. His desire was fuming inside him, eager to cloud his judgement the moment your hole stretched from his length suddenly sliding into you.

He sure knew how to work his dick right when a grunt outed from your mouth as Seonghwa hooked his hips at an angle before thrusting. The eye-rolling pleasure only lasted a few seconds before Seonghwa quickened his pace, starting to snap his hips into you as he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders.

Fuck, you wanted to kiss him, but he knew what he was doing to you. He was doing it on purpose. There was no way he was going to let you kiss him. No way to busy your mouth as moans escape it recklessly.

“Ohffuck-” your head was growing lighter and lighter by the second, back arched off the mattress by now if it wasn’t for Seonghwa pushing your knees against your chest.

It was quite embarrassing hearing just your moans bouncing off the walls of this room as Seonghwa was pile-driving you deep into the bed, it only made you more desperate to crash your lips onto Seonghwa’s to deafen them. You really didn’t want to bite down on your arm, but you were more desperate than ever.

“Aw, why are you being so quiet hm? Is this dick not satisfying you enough?” Seonghwa smirks from above you, parting his lips so you could finally hear his staggered breathing.

“Y-Yeah, something like t-that- unghh,” sarcasm was undoubtedly your go-to method to cope with certain situations, but this time it was sarcasm that would get you more than you asked for.

“Oh? You really want to fucking play like that? You’re not going to be able to walk once I’m done with you.”

Emptiness looms in your heat as Seonghwa pulls out, latching either side of your waist before flipping you around on your stomach in a flash. A surprised gasp left your lips as he stingingly squeezed the flesh of your ass with a chuckle, hoisting you onto your knees.

“You really think you’re different from everyone el- mhmmh,” your snarky remark was cut short when you felt a hand push the side of your face against the mattress, legs twitching as Seonghwa thrust himself into you once again.

“You’re getting on my goddamn nerves,” Seonghwa snarls, keeping a tight grip on your hair in his fist as the other hand smoothes over your side.

The pumping pleasure coursing through your body felt electric, making you feel like you were above the clouds with each hard thrust. You could feel your ass bouncing as Seonghwa’s thrusts became sloppy, louder as the room echoed with nothing but a mix of your lewd moans and slapping skin.

“Tsk, I can feel you shaking underneath me. Regretting it yet?”

“I can fucking handle it, shut up,” you weren’t raised as no weak bitch.

“I really hope so,” well fuck. You could feel your thighs quivering as Seonghwa slowly pushed your legs further apart, stomach falling closer against the mattress. Just barely above it. “Impressive.”

It was a new angle that had you wanting to cry, with the way his cock hit deep in you and both of his hands either side of you holding him up. You couldn’t help but let your face fall against your arms, breathing as if it were your last and brows furrowed so hard you could feel your face about to cramp.

“Seonghw-aaahhmhm,” your legs twitched, pushing themselves higher off the mattress as your ass hits Seonghwa’s stomach with no choice. You couldn’t hold the position any longer unless you wanted to burst into tears from the burning in your thighs.

“What’s the matter huh? I thought you could handle it.”

“P-Please,” you cry.

“What do you want?”

“Kiss me- just please fucking kiss me,” your voice grew deeper and louder, desperation dripping from your tongue like poison as you push yourself off the mattress and flip Seonghwa onto his back with no time wasted in hoping your soaking wet cunt back on his length.

“Get your pretty lips here then,” your lips crashed harshly onto one another, teeth clashing as saliva coated your lips. The weak taste of his strawberry chapstick was still there and you loved it, love the way his lips moulded perfectly with yours each time as his hips snapped up into yours.

Seonghwa’s hands grip your hips roughly as he tries his best to hold them up with your legs quivering. His hips were snapping up briskly with a slap, shooting immense pleasure through your body like little sparks bottling into a ball in the deepest pit of your stomach.

“Oh fuck, right theremhmmgh right there,” you whisper a moan against his lips before letting your face fall in the nape of his neck, hand cupping the side of his face as the other grips the bedsheets.

Seonghwa just couldn’t control the loudness of his breathing anymore, grunting through gritted teeth as he shut his eyes close and glutes on fire with how rapid he was moving his hips. It was a breath-taking moment with your knuckles turning white and nails on the verge of tearing into the bedsheet as the pleasurable feeling of his cock pounding into you from below just pushing you to the edge of your combustion.

“Uggnghh- shitohmygod!” your fist loosened on the bedsheets before slamming them closer to your body, pushing yourself off of Seonghwa’s chest with a high-pitched moan and wide mouth as your brain turns into mush. Nothing but electrifying pleasure washed over you like a tsunami, making you clench tight around Seonghwa’s cock and gazing into his droopy lust-filled eyes.

A white film casts over your vision as you lower your lips onto Seonghwa’s, giving him a slow intent kiss as his hips calm down. Legs still quivering with the slightest movement as you lowered yourself with him, making his length slide out of you with ease and just poking at your stomach.

Seconds which felt like minutes went by with nothing but silence. Just basking in your own silent thoughts in your own heads.

You should’ve felt anything. Anything but guilt.

Why guilt? Out of all emotions, why guilt after fucking a stranger you just met? A stranger who was brought to you by your best friend. Your best friend who once confessed he loves you.

“This was a mistake,” you didn’t think twice before scattering to get your clothes, rushingly putting them back onto your body as Seonghwa was left there with confusion written all over his face.

“Wait,” he booms, “what do you mean this was a ‘mistake’?”

Seonghwa replicated your actions and started putting his clothes back on in a swift, still waiting for an answer after you responded with nothing but silence. He should’ve known, he was Yunho’s best friend too after all.

“Listen, just forget this ever happened, please,” just thinking about this night would eat you alive, and it would definitely kill Yunho from the inside.

Before Seonghwa could say anything, you dashed out of the bedroom door, skipping down the stairs with your heart pounding like crazy, ready to jump out of your chest. It wasn’t long before you could hear footsteps following you closely behind, which made you even more uneasy as you could tell he was desperate for answers.

“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?” Seonghwa grabs you by the arm, halting you in your escape before letting go with a piercing stare. “You can’t just beg me to fuck you like that and say, oh, ‘this was a mistake’.”

You could tell he was mocking you, but you really couldn’t blame him. The only person to blame here was you. You should’ve known better than to sleep with one of Yunho’s best mates, especially when you knew the boy had deep feelings for you.

“Because it is a mistake,” you grit, “we can’t tell Yunho what happened… it’ll break him.”

In all honesty, it would break you more than him. Guilt was a more deadlier disease than heartbreak, it was worse when it came down to friendships more than love itself.

“Wha-”

“Can’t tell me what?”

Your eyes widen in shock as you snap your attention to the familiar voice behind you, already feeling a pang in your chest as your eyes locked onto Yunho’s innocent ones. Seonghwa kept quiet as you tried to choke out a few words to Yunho, flickering his gaze back and forth between the two of you.

“Um, nothing! Nothing, we were just getting to know each other, that all,” you try your hardest to make your fake smile not obvious, but it clearly wasn’t working with Yunho’s confused gaze turning into a suspicious one.

“Getting to know each other huh?” Yunho poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, running his eyes up and down the two of you.

“Yeah.”

“I could tell,” an octave drop in Yunho’s voice sent you breathing harder as his facial features hardened, soft brown loving eyes turned into a cold glare. “You fucking bastard.”

Yunho’s attention wasn’t on you anymore, it was focused on the person standing behind you. Everything happened so quickly, next thing you know, Yunho was pinning Seonghwa up against the wall by his collar, faces close in proximity with jaws clenched and fists balled.

“You fucking knew,” Yunho snarled, “and yet you still fucked her. I thought you were my best friend, Hwa. What the fuck happened to that huh?”

“H-How?” could he smell Seonghwa’s cologne on you? What the heck.

“Your shirt is inside out.”

Well, fuck. Not only did he catch you lying straight to his face but he caught his two best friends fucking each other, his best friend and someone who he had poured his heart and soul to.

“Yunho, please. I can ex-”

“You can explain? Yeah, alright go ahead, let’s hear what you have to say and if this motherfucker has anything else to add to it.”

“Yunho, get your hands off of me or we’re going to have a problem,” Seonghwa tries his best to pry Yunho’s grip from his collar, standing on his toes as he faces his deadly glare.

“We already have a problem, Hwa,” Seonghwa drops down with a thud as Yunho finally lets him go, throwing his glare back onto you. “Go ahead, say what you have to say.”

“I-I… we just… we were desperate, Yunho,” it wasn’t the best and most plausible excuse but it was honestly it.

“Desperate. Out of all people, you choose him? Are you serious? I don’t know if you got my hints, but fuck!”

“Yunho, I am so so sorry. Please, just-”

“God, I hate being in love with you!”

It was at that moment, you could see your world crumbling down as Yunho bites back a quiver. His eyes glossy and starting to frame with red as Seonghwa also couldn’t help but wear a remorseful face.

“Hey-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, Hwa,” Yunho aggressively brushed off Seonghwa’s hand on his shoulder, throwing him a side glare as he lowers his head. “Go home.”

“Woah, what is going on?” all three of your heads snapped up to a red flushed, drunk Mingi with a half empty bottle of soju in his hands stopping mid way with a questioning look on his face. Soon enough, the whole group of boys were here, standing behind Mingi with a replicated confused face.

“Everyone, go home. I’m not feeling good tonight,” Yunho pushed through the group of boys, passing to the kitchen where he grabbed a new cold bottle of soju from his fridge.

“Man, you sure? Want us to stay just in case?” Jongho spoke, brows raised as he was concerned for his gloomy looking friend.

“Mingi can stay, I don’t trust him alone at home while he’s drunk. Everyone else go home, please.”

“Yun-”

“I said leave,” you could barely even choke out his name before getting cut off again, guilt slowly but painfully chewing away at bits of your soul.

“Alright, you heard the man. Leave him be,” Yeosang took the liberty to usher everyone out with swaying arm movements, clueless of what had unfolded before everyone had walked in.

Mingi smiled brightly, waving his goodbyes and yelling his goodbyes as he joined a slouched Yunho in the kitchen. You couldn’t help but plaster a fake grin to fuel his happy hour before leaving out the door, embraced by the cold once more. But this time, you weren’t just cold on the outside, you could feel it inside of you. As if you had just turned yourself into a cold-blooded killer.

Murdering whatever trust and happiness Yunho had left in that big body of his.

Like everyone else in the entire world, you had to live with what you got, what you’ve done, what you can’t take back.

#ateez smut #seonghwa smut #kpop smut #park seonghwa #smut #fanfiction #ateez oneshots #kpop oneshots #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #ateez angst #kpop angst #seonghwa angst #yunho angst #badboy!seonghwa #bestfriend!yunho

2K notes · View notes

xfandomwritingsx · 4 years

Text

The Sweet of Night – Loki Laufeyson – Part 1

-gif source-

Description: After growing up besides Loki and having a complicated friendship with him, you visit him in his cell at night.

Warnings/Labels: None really in this part.

Approx. Word Count: 3,600

A/N: Alright this is my first Loki fic and it’s going to be at least 2 parts. We’ll see what happens once I actually start writing the second part and see if I can accomplish what I want in 2 or if it needs more. Enjoy!

---

You lay awake in your bed, your mind tossing and turning inside of itself. Ever since it was announced that Loki lived, you’d been on edge. Breaths of relief mixed with despair, fear, and confusion. And now he’s here, just below your feet in the cells, and the anxiousness in your bones just won’t settle. Your relationship with him had been both complicated and nearly non-existent to the public eye and despite the anger you’ve felt, the only thing you can think about is going to see him.

You had met Loki at a young age. Your father being a highly decorated General of Odin’s and your mother a respected healer, you were around the boys since you could remember. Though you had always considered yourself closer to Thor, if you’re honest when you look back on it, you’d gravitated towards Loki more than you’d like to admit.

You were similar in many ways, both of you eager to delve into your studies and learn hidden secrets. You were mystified by his magic as much as you were scared of it at first. You both held a voice of calm and reason, him towards Thor and you towards your closest female friend, Sif. Albeit, your voice held much less trickery than his.

Despite your draw to him, the very first time you had been alone with him had been well into your coming-of-age period, when matters of higher education, your position in Asgard, and even marriage had sent you into a wave of anxiety, leaving you to flee your chambers in the midst of the night through hidden corridors to simply catch your breath. Loki lurked in one such cramped space, startling you and forcing a dagger to his throat.

“Look who’s out of bed so late,” he’d chuckled and tsked his tongue. You lowered your blade and slipped it back into the band around your waist.

“Should you not be in your chambers as well?” Irritation at being chastised leaked out. “I didn’t realize anyone else knew this was here.”

“I know all of Asgard’s hidden paths.” Arrogance. It made your skin prickle.

“Not all of them, I’m sure,” you challenged him. You’d mapped out everything from the lowest town to the royal palace in your years. His arrogance could be matched. “The northern gate to the-”

“The eastern docks? Yes.” His eyes practically glowed with intrigue, stepping closer to you in the small space. You stiffened. “How about the masked chamber behind the war room?”

“The lever to the door is behind an animal skull.” He smirked at your answer. “The convergence of multiple tunnels beneath the town streets?”

“The singular point at which they all meet in the middle? I call it the crossroads.” He took another step closer and you found yourself shifting your body away, hugging the wall as if to let him pass. “How about the room with the blue door?” Now that did not sound familiar and all it took was a slight furrow of your brow for that winning smirk to grace his features. “Ahh, so it seems you’re the one who knows not all.” He crowded your body, taking your pressing into the wall as invitation to stand in front of you in the narrow hall. “Why, I wonder, have we not crossed paths before?”

“My need for secrecy and hidden passage ways is not high.” You hoped there was a bite in your tone, that he picked up on the subtle jab at his own mysterious motives for everything he did.

“But you have need of it tonight?” His hand slipped into yours as he ignored your implications. “Why is this?”

“The burden of choice,” you answered honestly. You felt suddenly very heavy and you reciprocated his grip on your hand just to feel something solid. “You and Thor have futures laid out for you, but me? There are so many decisions, some not even my own. Everything is threatening to change and I fear I’ll be frozen in indecision forever. Forgotten as time moves forward so quickly.” His demeanor changed at your sudden outpouring of your heart. His shoulders dropped as his grip softened and his too-close presence was no longer intimidating and uncomfortable. “Please forgive my outburst,” you said hastily, remembering suddenly that you were still in the company of a prince. “These are not your burdens.”

“They need not be my burdens for me to have care.” The kindness in his voice was surprising, but not unwelcome and you weren’t in a position to question it. His thumb traced a cold path along the back of your hand. “You will be alright. I have never known you to make a poor decision.”

“I fear I may make my first in the midst of this all,” you admitted, looking down towards your feet.

“Perhaps I should rephrase,” he corrected. “You’ve made many a poor decision; tagging along with my brother and I a great many among them.” You couldn’t help the smile that tainted your lips. “But you’ve made all your decisions fruitful ones. They were not good decisions by design, but rather you made them such.” He gave your hand a squeeze. “I have no doubt you’ll continue to do so.”

“Thank you, Loki.” His words gave you comfort and confidence. You looked up at him and something you didn’t recognize flashed in his eyes as they shifted up and down your form. You weren’t yet sure if you liked it or not, but it made your skin flush.

“Run along now,” he told you, slipping his hand out of yours and sliding away. “Before someone realizes you’re out of bed.”

It had been a small interaction, but one significant enough for you to draw closer to Loki. You came to realize, however, that his kindness would only come in times such as that; in distress and isolation, never in public eye.

Time passed and your intelligence and skills earned you a place as a high consultant, a planner of operations both civil and military. You still trained for battle, sparred with your companions regularly to keep your skills sharp, and found yourself swinging your sword on more than one occasion. You did however prefer being in the background more than on the front lines.

Loki grew different; charming and snarky up close, but cold and jealous from a distance. You found yourself in verbal spats with him often, his silver tongue irritating to you. You both secretly enjoyed your barbed exchanges though, each challenging the other in a way others did not.

His flirtations became plentiful, both with yourself and other women, but you never let yourself look too deep into them. It was all a game, for himself and for you. He aimed to break you and you refused to give him the satisfaction.

You were not entirely innocent either, however. You would push back on him and after one such instance, where during sparring he had you pinned to the ground and you’d rolled your hips against his in an attempt to keep the upper hand, Sif had questioned you on your intentions. You’d scoffed at her and brushed her comments off, forcing yourself to forget the way your body had heated beneath his and his voice whispering taunting words in your ear. Loki made forgetting quite easy as his sharp tongue was quick to return to its irritating nature.

His private moments of friendship were refreshing and genuine, often coming as care and comfort in times when you were too stubborn to reach out and ask for it. You held onto those memories and reminded yourself of them when you were wanting to slap him across the face in front of your peers. And it was because of those moments that your loyalty to him never wavered and you were unaccepting of the truth when it was first presented in front of you.

You had been on the Bifrost, running your tests and making your notes, when he approached you. You heard him behind you, felt his presence, but ignored him until he spoke.

“Why do you bother?” he asked, arrogance already flooding his voice.

“It is the one path in and out of Asgard,” You don’t even look up at him, not willing to play whatever game he came for. “I would be a fool not to inspect it regularly.”

“You don’t truly believe that, do you?” he chuckled. “The one and only path?” This earned a glance in his direction and you found him staring pointedly off into the distance. The way it said it unsettled you.

“I know of not another,” you said carefully. “Do you?” He remained quiet but his lips tilted in the smallest smirk. “If you know of another path, it is your duty to Asgard to inform me.”

“It is mere speculation,” he lied smoothly. You could feel the dishonesty in your bones. “Odds would simply suggest there’s another way.” You watched him closely, trying to read his body language, but the trickster was too good even for you.

“If you were to find something like that?” you prodded.

“I would honor my duty to Asgard,” he told you, finally casting his gaze on you with a sparkle in his eye that you weren’t sure you liked, but his words seemed true. He approached you swiftly, taking your hand in his own. “I shall leave you to your work.” He bent at his waist slightly to softly kiss your knuckles. He gave you a quick wink before pulling away and for what you don’t like admitting isn’t the first time, your stomach fluttered and a blush threatened to creep onto your cheeks. You took your hand back and gave a short curtsy.

“My Lord,” was your dismissive farewell. It brought a playful smile to his face, but he left without further interaction.

It was mere days later when everything flipped upside down on everyone. Thor had been banished and you had doubts, concerns you were too afraid to voice. Could Loki have been capable of doing it? Was his jealously truly that deep? Sif and The Warriors Three sure thought so. You’d kept mostly quiet during their discussion, words and accusations burning on the tip of your tongue and yet feeling like it would be a betrayal to voice them.

You’d gone with them to the throne room, expecting Odin and to feel confident in yourself enough when you saw him that you’d be able to speak. Instead you’d found such an unnatural and yet natural sight; Loki on the throne. His words were calculated, a fragile softness wrapped around cold words to disguise them. For the first time, you felt truly weary of him, afraid even.

He’d asked you to stay behind when the others left. He’d called your name so calmly and beckoned you back to him. You obeyed. How could you not with him as King? He smiled coldly.

“It is still early, but there is a position within the royal palace I believe you’d be well suited for,” he told you. “A very important one.” He started circling you, his eyes on you making you straight and stiff.

“With all due respect, my Lord,” you started, somehow keeping your voice steady and polite. “I believe I’m needed at my current post given the circumstances.” He came to stand in front of you, a glint in his eye. “There was a large security breach as you’re aware.” You tried to keep the bite from your tone, but it came through in the slightest. His lips tugged up as he repressed a smile which was not the reaction you’d expected.

“Of course,” he said, nodding his head. “But in time, I’d like to see you and I work much closer. You have always been most interesting to me.” The way he said it did not feel complimentary, but more how a predator is interested in its prey. It sent a cold shiver down your spine. “You could prove to be very… useful.” You resisted the cringe that fell through your body.

“May I return to my duties now, my King?” Using his new title had the desire effect; stroked his ego enough for him to let you go.

It was the last real interaction you had with him for years and you were plunged into a myriad of emotions over the time, believing him dead and then his attack of Midgard. And it all lead you to right here, swiftly walking through the halls in the dead of the night. You’d resisted for weeks once he’d returned but you could not any longer. You’d thrown on proper clothes and a decent robe and gave in to what you wanted.

The guards are quick to let you pass and do not ask questions for which you are grateful. Most of the prisoners are asleep in their cells at this hour, but you know Loki will not be. Your feet slow as you approach his cell in the dim nighttime lighting. Your heart beats faster as you finally peer inside.

He is sitting in his cot, a lamp softly illuminating the book in his lap. He has dark clothes on that look too stiff to be comfortable, but he doesn’t seem phased by them. His hair is longer than the last time you saw him. He looks… well enough considering his circumstances, though his presence still feels like a ghost to you.

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice you standing outside of his cell or if he’s simply waiting for a decent point in his reading to pause. You suspect the latter.

When his eyes finally rise to greet you, there’s no surprise in them, but a softer, gentler emotion. You fear for a moment that you won’t find your words. He takes the time to mark his page before setting his book down on the table and swinging his legs over the side of his cot.

“Finally decided to come see an old friend?” He teases. His voice breaks you of your stoic demeanor, earning a roll of your eyes.

“Is that what we were? Friends?” You resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest and simply fold your hands in front of you instead. He smiles, delighted at your banter.

“We could have been friends.” He places his hands on his knees and arches his back, stretching a little.

“We could have been a lot of things,” you counter. “But that doesn’t make it so.”

“Oh?” He’s intrigued, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, a wicked look in his eyes. “What else could we have been?” You don’t let yourself succumb to the heat that tries to worm its way through you. You push away the warmth of his words and his looks. Instead, you remain quiet and pensive, looking down at your folded hands for a time before speaking much more softly than you intend.

“I was told you were dead.” His wickedness fades and he casts his glance off to the side.

“As was everyone else.” He says it so carelessly, almost in a forced way that makes you wonder if his coldness is a lie. It mustn’t be though. He is a cold, murderess creature if his recent actions are any determination. “Did you mourn?” He refuses to look at you.

“I mourned the kind, gentle man I thought existed inside of you.” He scoffs at you and forces a fake smile. “I mourned the man who gave me words of encouragement when I was troubled. The man who passed me an extra serving of dessert after my first heartbreak. The man who came into my chambers without permission to make sure I was still breathing after my father’s passing. The man who held my hand at his funeral.” Your words poured easily, listing out only a few of his compassions towards you. His eyes fall to his hands so you cannot see nor read his expressions.

“Perhaps that man was simply an illusion,” he proposes. “Perhaps he never existed at all.”

“Perhaps.” You step closer to the cell, wishing to be closer to him. “But I did not mourn the man who stole the throne in such a vicious manner. I did not mourn the man who wanted me as a concubine.” He looks up at that, a dark laugh coming from him.

“A concubine?” He stands sharply, startling you. His eyes are hard, but hold a softness over them. “Do you think so little of yourself?” he ponders, slowly coming towards his cell wall. Your body stiffens with an anticipation at his approach. His brows knit together as another thought comes to him. “Or do you truly believe I think so little of you?” He seems honestly offended and it nearly makes you feel guilty. He stands in front of you, the barrier wall the only thing between you. “My darling,” he coos, lifting a hand up, the wall turning a vibrant yellow around his touch. “I was to make you queen.”

Though his words take your breath from you, you try not to let him see. You keep your face a stone and your words even. He doesn’t deserve a reaction from you.

“Is that supposed to flatter me?” He smiles at your unimpressed tone.

“I promise you that nothing I’ve ever done has been in flattery to you.” He leans in closer, nearly resting his head on the barrier and you find yourself wishing to lean into him. “Every compliment and kind word is given simply because it’s true.”

“And every lie?” you ask without missing a beat.

“Pet, my lies to you have been far and few between over our years together.” You shiver at the endearment he’s chosen to call you by. He’s used it sparingly in the past and you’ve always had to forcefully ignore the way your body wants to respond. “In fact, your lies to me are much more numerous.” You bristle at that.

“I do not lie,” you snap at him, your feet bringing you closer to the wall, as close to getting into his space as you can. “I would not lie to even you.”

“Is that so?” He’s amused, licking his lips and smiling in anticipation. “Then tell me, pet. Did you miss me?” Your jaw snaps closed, swallowing the instinctive negative response that boils up. “And not just the gentle man you dream I am, but all of me. Did you miss my sharp tongue during our spats? The flirtation underneath?”

“The arrogance?” you add, partly to be spiteful and partly just to stop his talking. The way his voice started dropping low threatens to unravel you. His smile doesn’t fade. “The double sided mischievousness and the irritating mystery you project? The illusions and lies?”

“Listing all my misgivings does not answer the question.” His eyes fixate on you and you let out a heavy sigh, debating your answer. “Did you miss me?”

Your eyes cast away from his to concentrate. They fall onto his hand, still pressing into the barrier and you notice his fingers moving slowly, curving in as if gently clawing at it and then releasing back to press his palm to it. It’s a slow subtle movement, but it projects such a strong feeling of wanting to be touched, of aching to have something so close yet unreachable.

You move your hand forward, placing your hand over his, the barrier vibrating and pulsating yellow beneath your palm. Loki stiffens ever so slightly and you catch him releasing a slow breath, relaxing into a simple implication of touch. You inch even closer to the wall, sure he’d rest his forehead on yours if only he could. How long had it been since he’d had a comforting touch, you wonder.

“Would you say you missed me?” you whisper.

“Only if you asked.” His voice is slow, lazy. Comfortable. It takes you back to the feelings you’d had when he’d comforted you in times of need. When you look up to him, his eyes are closed and his hand is again itching to come through the barrier, to touch you.

“I should return to my chambers,” you say quietly, no conviction in your tone. He opens his eyes again and you swear you can almost feel his arms envelope you.

“Why did you come at all?” he asks, pulling his forehead away from the barrier to look down at you more fully. You hesitate to answer, pushing back all the lies and excuses your mind conjures in order to find a real reason you’re standing here.

“Because Loki,” you sigh, giving in. “I missed you.” He gives a soft sigh and a teasing laugh, his other hand coming up to the barrier near your waist. It surprises you how badly you wish to feel his touch on you.

“Was that so hard, pet?” Your eyes harden and you step away from him, irritated with his teasing. Now you wish to crack your palm over his cheek, a fruitless wish as even if there was no barrier wall, you know you wouldn’t follow through. His smile widens to his wicked one and just like that, you’re back to your more familiar roles. “Now don’t be stubborn, my dear.” He too pushes himself off the barrier wall, to give some more space between you. “You were being so sweet.”

“Good evening, Loki,” you bid him farewell, taking a couple more steps back before turning to walk away.

“Will you return?” The hint of concern hidden in his voice stops your feet from continuing. You resist looking back at him however. Did he want you to return? Did you want to return?

“No.” You can feel him smile behind you at your lie.

#loki imagine #Loki Laufeyson #loki laufeyson imagine #loki x reader #marvel

118 notes · View notes

thescatterbrainedwriter · 3 years

Text

Your Stupid Smile

Word count: ~6,100

Pairings: oc x canon

Warnings: fluff and shenanigans

Sup! I’m actually running out of stories to post. Didn’t think this through too well. Curses to writers block and the fact I write long stories. Even so, do hope you enjoy! 🥔🎨

**Note, Emily is my personal character. I just like to stick her places. I also still have no idea how to do a ‘short click for full’ post.

———

Irritating, simply irritating. Everyone was having a good time, sure, but Nash was having a hard time joining in on the fun. Every time he got close to truly relaxing and enjoying the company around him, he would hear it, that laugh. Of course, once he heard the laugh he had to see where it originated from, and it was always the same face. That stupid face and that stupid smile. He couldn’t stand that smile, and he didn’t want to admit to himself the reason why it bothered him so much.

The team was in the lounge enjoying the company of each other after a long day. Cisco was telling a story, Barry and Iris adding tidbits here and there, and the more elaborate and ridiculous it became the more laughs rang out. By the end of it everyone was rolling and roaring with laughter which only intensified after a stray loud squeak sounded. Emily covered her mouth in embarrassment before folding over the bar counter in laughter again. “I’m sorry!” She breathed trying to apologize between laughs. “I don’t know where that came from!” She covered her face in an attempt to wipe away the tears now rolling down her rosy face. “Oh no, my face sprung a leak!” Everyone continued giggling and Ralph stretched his hand over to her to deliver a tissue. She took it with a mousy thanks wiping her face. Nash was trying his hardest to keep from looking at her, he already made the mistake of just glancing over and he scowled to himself about the flush slowly spreading up his neck.

“Hey Estrata,” Cisco called after composing himself a degree. “You got any stories to share?”

“Yeah,” Ralph agreed. “You almost never share anything. Think you could drop the mysterious facade for a night?” Emily had one arm draped over her head and held her cheek with her other hand as she thought. “Hmmm..... I dunno,” she teased. “I’m not exactly good at sharing, things about me anyway.”

“There’s room for only one queen of ice,” Frost defended. “Quit giving the cold shoulder and fess up would ya?” Emily gave a growly sigh as she seriously considered the plethora of things buried within. “Ok fine,” she relented. “You make a good case, and Ralph has a point. I’m just, I’m really hesitant to share much. Seeing as I could find myself stranded somewhere else, it gets tiresome re-explaining.” Everyone gets quiet and Emily scratches her head realizing she killed the mood a little. “Eh, I think I have a solution though. Tell me,” she smiled. “What you wanna know? Besiiiides, my name,” she cut Ralph off before he could ask. Everyone chuckled and Nash just smirked.

Frost stared her down thinking intently, Emily actually got nervous with the holes being drilled into her soul with the stare, before she decided on a question. “You don’t look like the type to, but are obviously capable of, doing some not so desirable things. So have you?”

Emily squinted at her before straightening her back and clearing her throat. “Just, just gettin riiiiiiight into it huh?”

“I don’t make a habit of pussyfooting around,” Frost dismissed smirking. Emily patted her cheeks trying to think of a good story to tell while everyone turned 100% of their attention to her, excitedly waiting for whatever secret would come up. “Ok, ok, I got one,” she said smiling. “Believe it or not, but, I’ve had to break out of area 51.”

“You were taken to area 51?!” Barry asked shocked. “How? Why??” Emily flashed another, albeit awkward, smile. “Well, I am a wanted woman back where I come from.”

“Wanted huh?” Frost asked somewhat impressed. “What’d you do to earn that target on your back?”

“Exist,” she said plainly. “What I am, is a very valued product to a group of people. I’m one of a handful, if not the only person, with my genetic makeup.” She sighed making everyone become glum. “They really wanted to study me, poke and prod and see how they could use me and duplicate what I am.”

“Estrata, I didn’t—“ Frost started before Emily waved dismissively. “No, no, it’s fine,” she assured with a smile. “After learning that I decided to make myself the biggest most obnoxious target ever,” she waved her hands in front of her to illustrate as she giggled reminiscing. “I thought to myself, that if they wanted me that badly they’re gonna have to work for it. So I made it my mission to piss them off and kick their collective ass,” she flashed a big smile. “Besides, if they’re busy chasing me and my friends, they can’t go looking for anyone else.”

“Guess that explains all the injuries Caitlyn found,” Frost commented thoughtfully. “And the fact you gave Dr. Wells such a hard time about just coming to the lab in the beginning.”

“Yup! Broken ribs, arms, legs, fractured skull and fingers, I’ve had my stomach punctured straight through at least twice, and my shoulder. Think that one actually broke my shoulder blade to be honest.....” Emily rambled.

“Jeeze....” Ralph said stunned.

“And that’s not counting their penchant for causing neurological damage with all variations for shock collars and tasers,” she listed with a smirk. “I really shouldn’t be smiling but honestly, they’re some serious badges of honor so why not?” They all softened their faces though she could tell they still felt bad. “So anyway, “ she continued, “there I am in the bowels of area 51, strapped to a chair in some interrogation room when two guys in suits come in.” Everyone changed their tune as she gets back into the story, Nash admiring her resourcefulness and determination. As she rambled and gesticulated enhancing the story with her hands, complete with illusions and little animations, Nash couldn’t help but stare even when she smiled bright. Cisco noticed his staring and bumped his arm jostling him enough to break his gaze. He wiggled his eyebrows causing Nash to grumble and avert his gaze from everyone but still listened attentively.

“Soooo, there’s a whole facility underneath?” Barry asked once she finished. “And what we all think is area 51 is just a cover?” Emily nods with a smile. “There’s quite a lot buried underneath. I think the whole desert lot actually.”

“And no one knows about it?” Ralph asked.

“Lots of people know, but the government makes them seem crazy. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t like Eiling all that much, reminded me too much of them.”

“So this, Quazar, or Quinton, was there too?” Frost asked. “Why was he there again?”

Emily paused trying to formulate the sentence as coherently and short as possible without rambling again. “He was the one who gave me my powers. Well, not really gave but, reactivated dormant genes so I could do what I do. It’s how I got the monicker ‘half breed’.” She drifted off in her memories. “We grew close, and I must admit I didn’t handle learning he was an alien well but. We protected each other, and came to care a lot about each other.” She smiled thoughtfully. “He’s my anchor to home. Him and Oliver and Flaer and Jimmy.” Bringing herself back to the present she cleared her throat. “He was there for leverage I guess. Most likely for added study being a pure blood. As long as he was there I would be too, even if I got out I would come back to try and get him out. So I just broke him out right away and messed up their plans.” She flashed a smile lightening the mood of the room.

“Boy, you are just full of mysteries aren’t you?” Ralph asked with a smirk.

“Eeeyup! And I am 100% telling the truth too. I also gave yooouuuu..... three mysteries? Three mysteries an explanation,” she said standing with a stretch. “No more.”

“Just, one more question?” Cisco asked. “Do you miss him? Quinton?”

Emily paused looking at him. “Well yeah, ‘course I do. I get homesick sometimes. I miss everyone back home.” She sighed deeply as her mind wandered a bit. “Sometimes, my relay picks up messages he sends. Takes quite a long time to decompress the file because of barriers and reality changes but, he asks me how I’m doing, gives me updates on what’s going on, tells me to hurry home. But....” She rubs her cheek thinking. “He said..... he said if I ever get stuck somewhere, not to worry about them back home. He would keep everyone safe, and that he wanted me to be happy wherever I landed.” She smiled softly. “So... so I try. I try real hard, to be happy. And make other people happy. And, I guess I do a pretty good job.”

“You do,” Nash commented without thinking. Everyone turned their attention to him, Emily raising an eyebrow and smiling softly. “Huh?” Nash cleared his throat averting his gaze. “I-I mean I’ve noticed, that, everyone enjoys your—your company and. And they, like, having you around.”

“That include you?” She asked. Nash snaps his head to her and makes eye contact, his words momentarily caught in his throat as he begins to panic having been put on the spot. “Speak,” Harry says manifesting beside him. “You need to speak, say something.”

“I mean yeah, I guess,” Nash coughs out. “I certainly don’t find you all that annoying anyway.”

“Probably not the right response....” Harry comments.

Emily frowns a little. “Hmm, well I suppose that’s something.” Nash turns away from her again, Emily cocked an eyebrow noticing his ears turning rather red. She was sure he felt them burning but decided not to press him further.

“She noticed that you know,” Sherloque said manifesting by the bar behind her. Nash looked at him curiously. “What?” He asked.

“I didn’t say anything,” Emily responded taking her seat at the bar again. “Oh, sorry,” Nash apologized. “Thought I heard something. Guess it was nothing more than an auditory hallucination or something.”

“She’s not as oblivious as you think she is,” Sherloque continued. “I guarantee she already knows how you feel, and is just waiting on you to do something about it.” Nash turned away from the bar trying to ignore him, in addition to keep his flush from getting worse. He didn’t want to acknowledge it but it was rather difficult to keep from staring at her or subconsciously follow her around. He grumbled to himself trying to get his mind on something—anything—else. Cisco noticed and smiled mischievously having gotten an idea. “Hey, I remember you saying you attended a spontaneous karaoke session with Harry at one point,” he started. “Think you could sing something?”

“Wait, you sing?” Ralph asked in surprise.

“As a..... hobby.....” Emily said shyly. “I don’t really.... sing in— in public. Much....”

“Why not?” Barry asked. “Caitlyn said I sing pretty well and I never sing in public.”

“She gets carried away,” Nash says still not looking at her. “Least that’s what Harry said. Though, I’m not sure if it’s her or the crowd she sings in front of.”

“It’s, uh, it’s a little of both....” Emily half confirmed.

“How’s that?” Ralph asks intrigued.

“Uhhmmmm.... well.....” Emily fidgets a little. “I’m a bit on the theatrical side. I like my special effects, people like seeing all the flashy stuff and, well, I can get lost in the music. Sometimes.”

“All the time,” Harry comments. “Tell her to sing So Soft by that Carrie woman.”

“Why So Soft?” Nash asks out loud. Emily stiffens and blushes slightly. “What?” she squeaks. Harry smirks. “That’s why.” Nash looks over at her, smile threatening to crack onto his face as she sat there with her cheeks slowly getting rosy. Cisco notices her posture change as well and smiles wide. “I think we may have a winner for song choice.”

“Nu-no, not that,” Emily stammers. GP flies over to her whirring what seemed like a suggestion which only served to make Emily beat red. “I am NOT singing that one!” She near yells. “You should know better than to suggest that.” The drone whirrs again. “That one’s worse, no!”

“I kinda like the idea of worse,” Ralph teases. “What was suggested anyway?” Emily casts her gaze down making her hands into fits and pressing them into her knees. “GP always try to suggest two songs he knows will make me uncomfortable,” she explains. “They’re...... uhm..... they’re.....” Emily pauses before rolling her head and deciding to just get it over with. “They’re called ‘Do You Think I’m Sexy’ and...... ‘Sex bomb’......”

Everyone’s interest had been piqued with Cisco and Nash both staring at her with raised eyebrows. Emily covered her face in embarrassment floating above her seat a little. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she near whines. “What about Talking Body?” GP whirrs in intelligible english tones. “Preferred over those, but still no.” Emily responds still red in the face. “No, I.... hmm.... I think I... h-have one. It’s called Collide.” Emily straightened her posture and cleared her throat. “Oh this is embarrassing......” she muttered under her breath after a pause and cringing. Taking a breath to calm herself she began, GP providing the background music.

*Lately, I feel like I’m pushing you away*

*Acting moody for no reason*

*And even though you know I'm always gonna stay*

*I've been talking like I'm leaving*

*I don't know why I keep playing these dumb games*

*Love is not a competition*

*And no one's winning when I'm pushing you away*

*Sometimes darkness is a prison*

The lights seem to dim a little before returning to the normal ambient light. Taking a breath to steady her nerves further, Emily continues.

* Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

Emily smiles becoming more relaxed even beginning to move in rhythm with the music and providing small effects such as orbs of lights and dimming the actual lights at times.

*Look into my eyes and tell me we're okay*

*And we both can be forgiven*

*Kiss me gently, say the things you wanna say*

*You don't need to ask permission*

*I'm a stormy ocean, but you're steady*

*And I'm a commotion, but you get me*

*Too many emotions, but you let me*

*Let me blossom in the dark*

The lights dim and brighten to the beat of the song, the orbs of light change color and seem to twinkle and multiply. Emily smiles wide as she sings and looks around in amusement at the display going on. Everyone else is distracted by the lights but Nash was fixated on Emily. He smiled as she smiles happier than he’s ever seen feeling as though this was her unfiltered.

*Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

The lights slowly begin to dim as Emily, having decided to stand, took slow strides toward the center of the group. She begins to float the closer she gets and takes a modest cross-legged ‘seat’ in the air. Everyone looks around curiously and Nash fixates on her again.

*I'm a stormy ocean, but you're steady*

*I'm like a commotion, but you get me*

*Too many emotions, but you let me*

*Let me blossom in the dark*

Emily darkens the whole room by creating a field that prevented any light to show through. She then made it look like she was glowing, her suit had appeared, her hair was snow white with the unique holographic shine, and she still kept the rest of them in utter darkness as she continued toward the song’s end.

* Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

Emily snaps her fingers and flicks her wrist in front of her causing an explosion of stars appear in the room making it look like they were in the deep of space. Still glowing, albeit softer, she smiles wide. Nash watches noting she seemed to feel at home in such an environment almost looking free, maybe even exited to share the wonder of the void she knew so well with people she cared for. She looked dazzling in that moment.

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

The room fades back to black and Emily brings the normal light back into the room gradually so as not to blind everyone. They watch in stunned silence as she takes a few steps back toward her chair, suit disappearing and hair returning to her usual red tinted brunette, and she smiled shy and awkwardly. “So.....?” she asked.

“That was—“ Nash began.

“Amazing!” Cisco interrupted causing Nash to snap out of whatever trance he fell into. Emily smiled placing a hand on her cheek as she blushed. “Hobby my ass,” Ralph scolded. “You’ve put in some serious work to sound that good.”

“I’ve, had a few years of practice,” she teased.

“Well, whatever it is you just stunned us with, I wish I had a talent like that,” Iris commends. “That was..... wow!”

“Sing something else!” Wally said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, that was great!” Joe agrees enamored.

Emily laughs waving a hand. “No no, I would be singing all night. Do you know what I would sound like tomorrow if I did that?”

“C’mon, just one more?” Frost asks surprisingly invested. Emily sighs with a reluctant smile tilting her head toward Nash a little. “Again, Harry, this is why I don’t sing in front of people.”

Nash chuckled in amusement with Harry smiling next to him. “Three. Three ‘one more’ requests that night,” he explained. “I was worried she would kill me by the end of it. If it weren’t for Jessie changing the topic when we left she may well have.” Nash looked at him curiously. “I was......responsible for two. She wasn’t enthused when I got the whole room going,” he said reminiscing. “By the way, if that wasn’t an obvious tell, I don’t know what is.” Nash’s gaze fell upon Emily again as she grumbled placing both hands on her cheeks considering indulging their requests. “No, no. It’s going to turn into karaoke night all over again if I don’t stop now,” Emily determined. “Only one tonight, but maybe another some other time,” she smiled raising a finger with a wink.

Casual conversation carried for another hour or two before Emily began to yawn, followed by a few of the others present. Half an hour after the first yawn, everyone decided to call it a night. It was well into the evening at this point and no one wanted to risk sleeping in too late. Emily stretched winding up leaning all the way back, about 90°, over the bar. She stayed like that taking a deep breath and complained about not wanting to move. “I think I’m just gonna.... sleep here. Like this. Yeah, this is comfy....”

“Thaaaat doesn’t *look* comfortable.....” Cisco commented looking confused at how she could even *do* that.

“Must not be a fellow human rubber band,” she replied grabbing her elbows keeping her arms above her head. “Being super bendy sure comes in handy.” She smiled lazily and turned her head to face the person she heard moving to her side, seemingly tripping over a chair. Her eyes met Nash’s, who’s cheeks immediately turned rosy, and lifted her head. “You ok?” She asked.

“Yeah, no. I’m f-fine,” Nash coughed out. “Stupid chair, got tangled in my feet....” He kicked it nearly getting tangled in it again.

“Yeeeesaahhh,” Emily said tiredly. “They always seem to like ankles and toes, huh? Just.... always in the way, at the worst times.” Her eyes closed again and she sighed half falling asleep right there. Nash averted his gaze awkwardly and Cisco smirked at him, Nash gave him a face instigating a silent argument between the two about him saying something before GP flew over and whistled at her waking her again. “Hmmm?” she said tiredly. GP whistled again and Emily groaned. “Nooo, don’t waaaanna move,” she said with another stretch. GP bonked her head and she sighed. “Ok, ok. Fine. I’ll go to bed.” With a huff, she pulled herself into a sitting position before hopping off her seat and heading out. Various farewells and well wishes were exchanged as they left one by one leaving Emily alone with Nash and Cisco. They stood awkwardly at the elevator door waiting for it to come back up, Cisco flicking his eyes in the direction of Emily trying to encourage Nash to say something and Nash refusing.

“Good night guys,” Emily said with a yawn when the elevator dinged. “Travel safe, ok?”

“Make sure nothing blows up, alright?” Cisco joked. She smiled tiredly. “Aww, no fun. And I was gonna try to make a star tonight.” Nash smiled recognizing a similar joke he made with Cisco. “I’ll make sure to hold down the fort,” she assured rubbing her eye as they stepped in. “I’m pretty good at keeping people out of places.” They waved as the doors closed, Nash watched as she turned, flicking her finger like you would a switch, and the lights going out one by one as she advanced down the hall. Cisco turned to face Nash with a disappointed look. “What?” Nash asked doing a double take.

“You need to tell her you like her already,” Cisco scolded.

“I don’t... like her,” Nash said attempting to brush off the accusation. “Why would you even think that?” Cisco’s face dropped unamused. “Yeah, ok. You are literally dripping in tension when you’re in the same room as her.”

“I am not!” Nash protests. “I’m chill.”

“You stare at her, you follow her, you ears get red when she looks at you.”

“I.... do not... What?” He turned to face Cisco as the doors opened. He rolled his eyes as he left, Nash close behind. “Pretty sure everyone knows. Well, maybe not Barry. But Wally does, Joe asked if you two were a thing, Iris knows....” Nash went quiet still following him. “I think Ralph may have a thing for her too but so far hasn’t had any luck.” He spun to face him and pointed a finger in his face. “Say, something. Anything. The awkward is getting unbearable.”

Nash stared at Cisco for a minute before the latter turned to leave, Nash took a long look back at the lab with a sigh. *I really should,* he thought. *But what do I say?*

——

The next day was business as usual, Emily had decided to get some practice in before everyone came in and had just finished when she passed Nash in the hall on her way to change. “Oh, hey Nash!” she greeted with a smile. Nash felt that familiar flush start to run up his neck when he saw her. He closed his eyes and muttered the only word he could think of. “Don’t...”

“Hmm?” Emily asked tilting her head to look him in the face. He opened his eyes making eye contact and used as much self control as he could muster to speak. “Don’t.... smile. At me.”

Emily paused in confusion. “What?”

“Don’t smile at me,” he repeated slowly beginning to regret his sentence choice. Emily blinked a few times just staring at him as she tried to understand. “Why...?”

“Because it’s stupid and makes me uncomfortable. And it’s annoying. Remember when I said you weren’t all that annoying? I lied. You’re more annoying than Ramon,” Nash blurted everything out before he realized what it was he was saying but fought to keep a straight face. Emily’s face was blank, shoulders dropped a little, and she stared confused at him. “Oh.... well..... ok.” She said softly. Nash felt his heart constrict in his chest. What had he done? She took a breath and looked him in the eye again, her facial features betraying hints of mischief. “Alright Nash, I’m sorry. I had no idea my smile could do that to you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder in mock concern making Nash a little suspicious. “I’m so glad you told me.”

“....You are?” Nash asked.

“Yes, yes, I am. From now on I won’t smile at you.”

“You.... won’t?”

“Nope. I’ll just smile at everyone and everything else instead,” Emily said fighting a smile. “Rest assured you’ll never see my troublesome smile again.”

“Ah...... good.....” Nash said trying to sound satisfied.

“See you later then,” Emily said before continuing on her way. Nash watched her go mildly panicking. “What just happened?” He asked no one in particular.

“You messed up, big time,” Sherloque answered from behind him. “How so?” Nash asked spinning around.

“Well, you heard her. She’ll still smile, just not at you,” Sherloque smirked. “But oh, she knows what you said wasn’t true. Not all of it anyway. She still may be a little concerned you find her annoying.”

“So, what will she do?”

“Exactly what she told you she would. Clever woman,” Sherloque mused. He smiled at Nash who still looked concerned. “She will, continue to smile, at everyone and thing other than you. And in doing so, knowing you don’t really find it uncomfortable, she will frustrate you.” He stands close to his face continuing to smile. “My, what a mess you’ve made. I do wonder how you’ll fix it.” He disappeared leaving Nash alone in the hallway again, completely and utterly uncertain about what to do now. “Oohhhh no....” he muttered to himself.

The rest of the day went on as normal, no one but Nash really noticing her slightly altered behavior though they did note he seemed a bit more frustrated than usual. She really did keep her word, taking care to never smile directly at him though that didn’t stop him from getting the smallest of glimpses. He found himself staring at her more often, and after three days he had nearly had enough.

He had found himself in the cortex, Barry was out and about as the Flash leaving Cisco, and Ralph there with him. He was tense and on edge knowing Emily could come in at any moment. He was too preoccupied to remember where she said she was going which only served to amp his anxiety. He tensed when he heard the familiar light tapping of footsteps drawing closer.

“Hey, I’m back!” A familiar voice called out. Nash refused to turn to meet her even as she walked over. She was wearing an oversized tank top, sport shorts, knee high socks and sneakers with her hair tied up. *Training,* he thought to himself. *That’s right, she wanted to practice for a while.* “Hey Cisco, Ralph. Hi Nash....” She smiled at Cisco and Ralph before dropping the facade to look at Nash. He clenched his jaw but kept his composure. “So, what are you up to?” She asked.

Cisco’s eyes darted from her face to Nash’s, before giving Ralph a look. “Not much....” he said. “Barry’s just doing his patrols, hasn’t come up with anything yet,” Ralph added walking awkwardly away.

“Hey, uh, Estrata,” Cisco called from the control desk. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Yeah sure, what’s up?” She asked cheerfully.

“The, satellites could use some maintenance. I can do general software updates from here but it’s difficult to do physical repairs. Could yoouuuu.....”

“Go check it out?” She finished for him. “My pleasure. I’ll take Tinker with me in case they need specialty parts.” She said smiling at the small drone flying into view. “Good idea. Yeah. Take.... take what ever you need and stay however long to. Fix things...” Cisco replied trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Be back in a jiffy!” She said with a grin before dropping it to look at Nash as she walked by. “Later.” They all watched and waited for her to leave the room before the two shot daggers at Nash with glares. “What?” He asked when he turned and saw their faces.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Cisco asked near shouting. “She has been acting weird for the last few days,” Ralph added. “I don’t .... know..... what you mean,” Nash tried to dismiss. “You said something to her, didn’t you!” Cisco accused. “What did you say?!”

“I—I.... didn’t ......” Nash stuttered trying to avoid the unwanted confrontation. They stared each other down for a while before he relented. “Alright fine. I..... I did.... say something.....” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably not the.... greatest thing...... in hindsight.....”

Cisco took a few steps forward still glaring. “Spill it.”

“I.... may have told her that..... she, uh, was..... annoying.....” Nash answered sheepishly. “You.... you what?” Cisco asked in disbelief. “You said what to her!?”

“You told me to say something to her. Anything, actually,” Nash tried to defend.

“Not that! Oh my— guh...” Cisco yelled throwing his hands in the air. Nash scratched his head like a child might when in trouble, being under all that scrutiny made his scalp really itchy. Ralph just stood there shaking his head. “You messed up, so bad,” he said.

“You don’t think I know?” Nash snapped back. “I got a lecture from a Wells as soon as she walked away!”

“You need to fix this,” Cisco said pointing again.

“How, Ramon? How?”

“I don’t know! But you have to do something! Smart, this time,” he glared, Nash glaring back at the ‘smart’ comment. “Because this?” he gestured around him, “This tension, is worse than your repressed tension. It sucks!”

“Hey Cisco,” Emily called over the relay. “Hey Es,” Cisco called back. “What ya got for me?”

“I’ve fixed a few cosmetic things, just scratches and dings from space debris, aaaaand I gave you a few new toys.” Cisco’s face lit up with a smile. “Ohhhh, new toys? Estrata, you spoil me.”

“Only cuz I like ya!” She responded with a giggle.

“Can’t imagine what you’d do for a special someone in your life,” Ralph commented shooting a look over to Nash. Nash clenched his jaw glaring back unenthusiastically. “Hmm, yeah. I’ve been told I get scary when I get serious or protective. Like, Mama Bear mode on steroids. So probably break a mountain in half. Or bake, I like brownies,” Emily rambled.

“.....Wait..... can you do that?” Ralph asked concerned. “Break a mountain?” Emily paused. “You know, never tried. But I did obliterate an asteroid one time.”

“Really?” This time Cisco asked.

“Yeah, but it was a small one. Like, maybe half a football field. And it was made out of a material similar to sandstone.”

“Thaaaat’s still pretty impressive,” Ralph stated impressed and a bit wary. “I know I could never do that.”

“Sure you could, you just gotta put your back into it!” She giggled, Ralph chuckling in return.

“So you gonna come back now?” Cisco asked glancing at Nash.

“Nah, not right now,” Emily replied with a sigh. “Been a while since I’ve just hung out in the deep black of the void, think I’ll chill for a while.” Nash’s shoulders dropped a bit hearing the news. As if he needed another contributor to his tension, now he had to wait for who knows how long. “Ok, take as much time as you need,” Cisco said still looking at Nash. “We’ll be here when you come back.”

“Ok, see you later then,” Emily said before closing the connection. Cisco crossed his arms and Ralph gave him a look, Nash stood stiff lost in thought. “Well, least now you have plenty of time to think of what to say,” Ralph commented before leaving. “You better make it good too,” Cisco warned before exiting as well, leaving Nash to stew for a while in uncertainty. *What to say....* he said to himself.

——

It was well into the evening when Emily made her way back to the lab. She casually strode down the halls humming to herself when she came across Nash and nearly bumped into him. “Oh! Oh, hi Nash,” she said looking up at him.

“H-hi.... Estrata,” Nash smiled awkwardly. “What brings you skulking around here so late?” She asked putting a hand on her hip. “I uh, I.... have something...... I’ve been meaning to, tell you....” he said trying to figure out the words as he went. “Oh? You do?” She said sounding intrigued. He nodded his head looking at his feet. “Uh huh, yeah.” He paused still staring at the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I lied... earlier.... wheeeen I said you were..... annoying......” he started. “You did?” She asked relaxing a little. Nash nodded again. “I did. I actually don’t, find you annoying that is. I uh, really like your company. A lot.” He peeked up to look her in the eye, the flush building like before. “Well then, why did you say that?” Emily asked, face softening as he spoke.

“I don’t..... I don’t know..... I....” Nash ran his hands through his hair in frustration and started pacing around. “You..... don’t know?” she asked in confusion. “I..... I don’t, have the words...” Nash said pausing and rubbing his chin. He stood quiet for a moment before turning to look at her again. “Maybe.... I don’t need words.....” he muttered to himself.

“What was tha—“ Emily’s sentence was cut off by Nash, who took three quick strides toward her, cupped her face and nearly rammed his face into hers with a kiss. Emily stood stunned, clearly not expecting this turn of events at all, and could only stare wide eyed into space. Once he broke the kiss he looked her in the eyes, thumb gently running over her cheek. “Wha...?” Emily started to ask. “Truth is, you make it incredibly difficult not to do that,” he says with a smile. “Especially, when you smile.”

Emily’s lips slowly pulled into a soft smile before mischievous tones bled in. “Hmmm, I’m not sure I got all that.” Nash raised an eyebrow smirking at her before placing another kiss on her lips. Emily chuckled after he broke the kiss again. “Gee, I dunno.... if I understand..... you may have...... to repeat.... that......” she said with a giggle, Nash taking the obvious opportunity to kiss her over and over while she spoke. They stood for a moment, smiling at each other like idiots, when they heard someone walk around the corner.

“Oh my god, FINALLY!” a voice said loudly from behind them. Emily gripped Nash’s shirt pulling him close as she tried to bury herself into him in embarrassment. Her face was beat red and eyes wide as Cisco briskly walked by. “Now if you two could do something about the other obvious tension you have, that’d be perfect,” he said pointing a finger first at Nash, then Emily who was trying very hard to hide her face. Cisco smiled at Nash, who gave him a wink, before walking away to a lab somewhere. They stood quiet for a minute before he rubbed her back and drew her into a hug enveloping her petite frame. She relaxed nestling into him a bit with a deep sigh. “So....” she began looking up at him. “What’s this ‘other tension’ Cisco was on about?”

“Oh, uh, I uh....” Nash coughed. “Not sure, actually.” She pouted suspiciously at him raising an eyebrow, keeping the stare made his ears rather red. “Mhmm......” she smirked. “Then I guess there’s nothing to ‘take care of’ and no real reason for a sleepover or anything....” she said slipping away. “I’m tired anyway, should probably just go to be—“ her words were cut off by Nash grabbing her from behind in a tight hug causing her to squeak. “Ok ok! I’ll stop teasing” she giggled. “But you’re kinda cute when you’re frustrated.”

Nash raised an eyebrow. “So are you telling me, this was a bad idea?” He asked close to her ear. “Noooooo.....” she said trying to hide the goosebumps. “Just..... think of it as an adventure. You do like adventures, right?” She asked grinning at him. He paused looking thoughtfully at her. “You know, now that I think of it. This might be one of the better ones.”

————————••••••••————————

~Fin~

#the flash #flash fiction #my oc tag #nash wells #cisco ramon #ralph dibny #funny #science #barry allen #fluffy

3 notes · View notes

kpoppwriter · 4 years

Text

Another Killing Game pt. 1

Genre: idk mystery and angst

Words: 1.1k+

Warnings: language, death later on, sensitive topics

a/n: so I made a post a while ago saying I wanted to make a Danganronpa x Kpop crossover series and here it is! this is the prologue/pt.1 I’ll write more if people enjoy it (also I don’t mention everyone who’s in this series right off the bat but they’re all in the tags fyi)

Thump thump

Your head was pounding. The pain was relentless. You could feel a cold floor beneath you, odd since the last thing you remember was…

Thump thump

You can’t remember. You tried to remember where you were, what you were doing, but to no avail. Your eyes finally opened.

Thump thump

You were in a...dance studio? Now you don’t remember anything up to this point but you were pretty definate you weren’t in a dance studio. Why would you be there?

You groaned as you tried to sit up, moving a little too fast. Your head spun as you looked around the room. There was a couch in the corner along with a set of speakers. You slowly pulled yourself up off the ground trying not to get yourself dizzy again. There was a large mirror on one of the walls, the mirror taking up the whole wall. You walked over to inspect your head for any injuries or maybe the cause of the pain in your skull. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw some movement from what looked like a pile of clothes. You almost fell out of shock when the pile of clothes seemed to groan. You cautiously tiptoed over, your hands up ready to punch whatever was there. Even though you weren’t the strongest, you thought you might be able to at least stun the...thing.

“Owwwww, my head,”

There’s another person here. There’s another fucking person in this room.You don’t know what you expected from a moving pile of clothes but honestly, you weren’t expecting a person. Apparently, this person had heard you gasp in shock and bolted upright.

“Jihoon?”

“Y/N?”

You knew him. How did you know him? You recognized his face and his name just slipped out of your mouth. He must have done the same thing because he’s looking at you rather curiously. As if he didn’t actually know you.

“Where are we?” he asked looking around the room

“Some sort of dance studio,” you answered, sounding rather unsure of yourself, “I’m not sure where we are but that’s all I know.”

“Did you try leaving?”

He pointed out a door that looked like it would lead outside to some building. You mentally smacked yourself upside the head. You couldn’t be completely trapped in this room. Thank god you weren’t alone. You helped Jihoon up (he confirmed that this was his name) and you left the dance studio.

The two of you found yourselves in a hallway lined with three or four other rooms. You assumed they were also dance studios. Jihoon pointed out a sign that said the lobby was downstairs. If there is a higher being(s), you thanked them for being with such an observant person. You followed the sign to a staircase. It was odd though, this building. All the windows seemed to be boarded up but with metal. Like someone didn’t want whoever was in this building to see outside. The staircase was similarly blocked off. But only the staircase going up. Jihoon, being curious of the locked up staircase, tried to see through the bars.

“I see a sign,” his head was bent in a rather uncomfortable position, “I think it says...recording studio?”

“Are we in some sort of entertainment building?” you questioned out loud

“Maybe.”

Figuring out where you were wasn’t the big deal right now. Getting out of this building was the main priority. You ushered Jihoon down the stairs, trying to hurry out of here.

You finally made it to a lobby-like area. It actually seemed like a store. You honestly didn’t care that much as you saw an exit in the actual lobby. You rushed over to the doors to see that they were boarded up like the windows. It finally hit you. You were actually trapped in this building.

“Yeah, we’re all stuck here.”

An unknown voice spoke to you, the panic probably evident on your face. You turned and saw a group of people with the same look of panic on their faces. Jihoon stood behind you, a little intimidated by the new people. You felt a sense of familiarity when you inspected each person’s face but you couldn’t quite place it. How did you know these people?

“You guys woke up here too?” someone asked you

“Yeah,” you answered hesitantly, “We woke up in what seemed like a dance studio.”

It went quiet for a moment, no one sure as to what to say now. You looked over at Jihoon, who was still apprehensive of the people who just seemed to appear. Just as you were about to say something, the overhead speaker system came to life. A few people jumped at the noise, including Jihoon. A large TV in the middle of the lobby also came to life. And there on screen was a...stuffed bear?

“Hello everyone,” the bear spoke (without moving its mouth, which was real creepy honestly), “I see you’ve all gathered up with your friends.”

“Friends? I don’t know these people,” a guy gestured at all of you.

“Oh, yes you do,” the bear laughed, “I guess I just forgot to give you your memories back.”

Before anyone could question the stuffed animal, a flash of light blasted out of the TV screen. It blinded all of you for a moment before it died away. But in that moment a lot happened.

You remembered everything. You remember getting into your car with your manager before being snatched up by a group of people. They knocked you out. Well, that explains the head pain that still lingered. You remembered you. You were an idol of a big kpop group. You were leaving Inkigayo when all this happened.

The light died down and everyone’s faces were shocked. It seems like they also remembered everything. As you looked over all their faces, you recognized everyone. You knew these people, some personally and some because they were famous too. All these people were idols too.

“Now it seems like you all know each other,” the bear giggled

“What’s going on? Where are we?” the guy from before demanded. You realized that it was Johnny Seo.

“Welcome to my favorite game!” the bear exclaimed, “With your host, me! Monokuma!”

“Mono-who now?” Henry Lau questioned

“What game is that?” Namjoon challenged

“Why, a killing game of course!”

“A what?!” Kino exclaimed, saying what everyone was thinking

“You all are going to be killed off one by one until only one of you is left! And you’re going to be the ones doing the killing~”

“We’re not going to kill each other!” exclaimed Mark angrily, “We know each other. We’re friends! Why would we do that?”

“You want to get out, don’t you?”

It went quiet. The silence almost more telling than words. You all wanted out. Some more than others. And now you were worried what people would do in order to escape.

38 notes · View notes

launchsteinward · 4 years

Text

This is for the MB challenge by @somebodyalreadytookthis2

Wednesday:

A Welcomed Guest

"Nighty?"

Nightmare's eyes lit up.

"Dream!" He exclaimed looking around, unable to locate his brother in the vast expanse of darkness.

Dream, quiet as a ninja, snuck up behind Nightmare and hugged him: the smaller yelping out in surprise. Instantly Blue and Cross had their swords draw: pointing at the mysterious silhouette that had just taken their Prince captive.

"Quite the pair of freinds you've made here." Dream commented, releasing the other from the hug.

"Don't surprise me like that! I almost had a heart attack you know" Nightmare pouted, showcasing a childish ness foreign to Cross and Blue but familiar to Dream.

"Uh, Nightmare... who exactly is this?" Cross asked finally getting a closer look at the stranger.

'Wait-

How come this one prince-

But THAT ONE ALSO PRINCE?'

Cross's (nonexistent) brain seemed to short circuit.

"Oh! This is my b-"

"Hi! I'm Dream. An adventurer from the capital and Nighty's childhood friend" Dream cut off Nightmare, secretly winking at his brother.

Catching Dream's drift, Nightmare nodded: deciding to fo along with Dream's antics.

"I see. Well, looks like we should look for a way out-"

Cross was cut off by the sound of insane laughter sending shivers up his spine.

The sound of a knife scraping against a surface could be heard as an ominous green glow reflected off the pillars in the hall.

Sharing a nod, the party : Dream included, hid behind a pillar and winced. It was blinding. A strong green light seemed to emerge from what appeared to be a skeleton demon holding a knife. Honestly, it was terrifying as both Cross and Blue felt their bones lock up.

'And now we run into a demon with flashlight eyes? Man, what's next? The teleportation kid from before shows up'

Blue sighed quietly before freezing at the bone chilling voice.

"Well, well, well, looks like we have some rather noisy guests. Ones that were not welcomed here at that. Tsktsktsk..." the Flashlight eyes demon clicked his nonexistent tongue, eyes still focused away from the party.

"We cant have that can we?"

'RUN' Cross could think as the demon looked him straight in the eyes and he was blinded.

Shutting his eyes that were searing in pain: Cross turned tail and ran. He could hear the thumps of his companions footsteps beside them as they turned and twisted around the pillars of the chamber.

Only when they were in complete darkness did they stop running and collapse to catch their breath.

They could still hear the demons voice snickering and purring: "come out come out where ever you are~" or " marco~... this is the part where you yell out polo you know?"

After catching their breath, the party shared a silent message: we're not going back there. And so they continued forward in silence: scared of the demon finding them. Well, everyone exept Dream who had only retreated only due to his brothers insistence and visible distress.

After a while they came aCross an odd looking lamp. It seemed to glow from the inside but the light only came out in golden blocks of light. 'Strange indeed'

That's when caught the sound of an oddly familiar tune coming up from infront of him. One that a cirtain trader had been humming a while back.

Smiling softly to himself, Dream followed the others as the sound got louder and they came across more lamps: some hanging from the ceiling by long chains and others just placed on the ground.

Eventually the say a gentle and welcoming soft light emerge from what appeared to be a stall, a wierd but oddly catchy song coming from it.

The stall was simple with a pink bar saying 'WELCOME TO INK'S SHOP', Ink presumably the skeleton monster sitting at the table with his head reasted on his hand and looking at the party smugly.

Cross couldn't help but gasp.

"Aren't you that potion seller I brought from a while back?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what really happened off screen" the trader shrugged out of habit, a small smile of relief unseen as his eyelights eyes Dream from the corner of his eye.

'Thank stars that brawny idiot wasn't dead yet'

"So, is there anything I could do for you? Maybe a potion, a charm? Maybe even my mystery box of useful items?" Ink asked, putting on a fake sellers voice cause Dream to snicker silently.

Ink count help but smile and secretly wink at the brute before getting on with the matter at hand.

"I- I cant help bit be curious of what's in the mysterious box of useful items. You swear that whatever's in there will come in handy right?" Cross asked, eyeing the grinning trader suspiciously.

"If course! I guarantee it!" Ink perked up.

'..Of course we're getting something so vague.' Blue smirked in amusement before his eye focused on the trader. There was something rather... intriguing about this 'Ink'.

Ink tensed up, blushing slightly in embarrassment as Blue stared at him. Of course he knew who Blue was, after all: you and your freinds wouldn't stop yelling about him.

Ink carefully placed a rather large pouch infront on Cross. After Cross had reluctantly given Ink the required gold, He took the pouch and opened it. Only to gasp in shock.

Cross turned away from his party, shoulders hunched as Ink watched in amusement.

Cross turned around suddenly, a pair of Ray-Ban visors taped to his skull. His smile was wide and full of child like excitement as he posed, showing off the glasses that only reflected the light coming off Ink's shop.

It was cute in a way: Ink found himself understanding why almost everyone seemed to adore the monochrome skeleton.

Dream couldn't help the genuine smile playing on his lips. Watching Cross do his wierd happy dance reminded his of how he would be as a child. Blue's reaction portraying Nighty's reaction at the time.

Dream knew instantly that this Blue character and himself would get along.

After calming down, Cross pulled out similar glasses to his own and distributed them among his party.

As he did, he couldn't help but pause as he gave Dream his pair. The other seemed strong, Cross couldn't help himself as he started analysing the others well toned (nonexistent) muscles. A few more bench presses and Cross was sure Dream would be ripped. Buff even.

Dream turned and started talking with Blue. He could feel Cross examining him as a light heat was apparent on his face. Blue noticed this instantly as a the strangely contagious heat grew on his cheekbones.

After putting on their glasses, they all thanked Ink: Dream giving the smaller a wink and earning a rainbow blush.

They all dreaded what was coming up. According to Ink, the exit to the chamber was in the direction they had come from: the direction of the demon.

___________________________________________

Dream was pumped. He couldn't wait to snap that demons neck. His anticipation for a good fight could be seen from miles away as they once again heard the sound of a knife scraping.

'This is going to be good' Dream could already feel the adrenaline tingling up his bones and sending a pleasurable shock through them.

Soon enough, they could make out the familiar glow of the demon. Putting on and securing their sunglasses, they prepared for the battle.

___________________________________________

Killer smirked. It seems that the prey had once again entered the lions den: this time of their own volition. It was hillarious.

He steadied his knife as he prepared to strike- grin maliciously wide. It was then that someone clocked him right on the jaw. Stumbling back a little, Killer looked at which one of these insects thought he was a lion and attacked him.

His eyes widened as he saw it was none other than the kidnapped prince himself. 'Did he get out of that cell on his own?' He thought before shrugging it off.

The boss told him not to kill the prince: he never said anything about hurting him.

"Well, well, who would have thought the beloved first prince would pack quite the punch" Killer mocked spitting out some purple substance.

Dream grinned as he attacked once more: the battle between the two commencing as the others just sat on the sidelines and watched. Not like they could do anything to interfere in such an intense battle.

Nightmare's eyes turned cyan as he drew back away from the group silently. Hiding behind a pillar somewhat close to the others he whispered an order before going back to the others: eyelights purple and an expression of confusion apparent on his face.

Killer pulled back as he tilted his head like an animal listening. "Gosh, dangit. And I was having soo much fun too. Well, looks like I gotta book my way out of here. Duty calls" the demon shrugged before disappearing with a pop.

Dream growled angrily as he yelled "COME BACK AND FIGHT ME COWARD! MY HONOUR HAS BEEN TARNISHED!"

Cross sighed in relief as he noticed a chest bot to far off from them. Motioning to the others as Nightmare calmed down he newly revealed to be brother, he approached the chest excitedly: wondering what loot he will get this time.

He opened it: only to find a black crown similar to the many he had found before.

"AGAIN!" Cross yelled in annoyance before tossing the crown behind him. Blue snickered as he explained the many crowns they had come across to Dream who couldn't help chuckling in response.

Nightmare's eyelights glazed over as he picked up the crown and put it in his inventory. He had a gut feeling that he may be needing it later.

___________________________________________

"Hi there"

The party jumped the the sudden voice: Dream luckily held back by Nightmare before he could instinctively punch whatever had just surprised him. Blue sighed. 'I knew I shouldn't have jinxed it'

"What the hell are you doing here kid?"

Criss asked eyeing the monochrome kid- Core was it?- from before.

"Just here to help you find your way" they shrugged before pointing at a rather short door. "Go through there and you'll find yourself on the second floor if the castle"

Nightmare and Dream looked at the child as though they were insane. Cross and Blue sighed before opening the small door, crouching and going inside: Nightmare and Dream hastily following after.

___________________________________________

"We need bait" Cross's voice echoed through the now empty and purple splattered hall. Thank God Dream was on their side.

"Yeah... but what?" Dream asked, shaking his hands in a attempt to get the purple substance off it. Blue watched in amusement as Nightmare hesitantly popped up: "ummm- how about cookies?"

Cross looked at Nightmare quizzically.

"And how do you know that?"

"I dont know... just had a feeling" Nightmare mumbled as Cross and Dream looked at each other before shrugging.

"And where do you suppose we get a cookie?"

"There" Blue said using his thumb to point down the hall at a familiar wooden stall.

Everyone stood there: mouth agape before collecting themselves. Cross had tears in his eyes as he knew he would have to say goodbye to some more of his beloved gold. That's when Nightmare gently pat his back and approached Ink: using his very own money to be a cookie from the trader.

And so the waiting game started. The party deciding to hide in a corner and rest up: some taking a cat nap. Nightmare got up and motioned towards a corner. "I need to use the restroom" he said, cheeks purple in embarrassment. Everyone nodded, allowing the prince some privacy.

As he turned the corner, Cross focused back on the cookie intently: waiting for the Demon King to take his bait. That's when he heard a quiet shuffle of shoes. He saw a demon: crown glistening on its head as ot approached the cookie.

Cross was in shock: the Demon King had actually taken the bait! Snapping out of his shock he tackled the Demon King down, the Demong King scowling in surprise.

'How did they know?'

Cross ended up ontop of the Demon King in a rather suggestive position that brought a blush to both the Kings and his own face.

Growling in annoyance, the Demon King poofed into thin air: teleporting elsewhere.

Nightmare came back from his rest stop before noticing everyones (who was awake) expression.

"Well, that's enough of a break" Cross perked up. "We're almost at the throne room according to Ink, so let's get this show on the road!"

____________________________________________

(My first animation/gif. In other words: sh#t.)

Before

First

#mb week challenge #moon blossom au challenge #moon blossom au #wednesday: a welcomed guest #its wednesday my dudes #undertale au #my first gif #Why the hell is each part of this challenge fic soo long-#might as well just make a whole book on it #@somebodyalreadytookthis2

17 notes · View notes

popculturebuffet · 4 years

Text

Reviewcaps: Mega Man: Fully Charged (BOOM!) #1

After 5 long years the Blue Bomber returns to comics and to the Fully Charged Universe! Things get a lot more grim as Aki grapples with a new robot army under actual robots, his buried past, and the fact Mega Mini is still around for some reason. Cracked skulls and dead cells under the cut.

So i’m a huge mega man fan. I haven’t really talked about video games here because this is my first video game adaptation, but yeah, I love em and Capcom’s vast and awesome franchise of robots and humanoids in blue, and in one case red, is one of my faviorites. From children blowing up tons of robots from a balding man who dosen’t get the hint already, to the pacifist soldier forced to fight in a war against robot whales, buffalo, mammoths, and other bizzare robot animals, to his best friend who has amnesia for some reason fighting more robot animals because capcom ran out, to his human sucessors wearing him like a hat, to some guy who turns out to be a war machine I haven’t played yet because I haven’t gotten the chance to and is the only part of the franchise I haven’t, to another universe where he’s the ai versoin of a dead child whose now a teenager mentally, to that ai’s sucessor a shy child whose dad was kidnapped by a space monster and fuses reguarly with a much cooler space monster. What i’m saying Is I deeply love this franchise, this franchise is complicated iwth all the branches, and it’s also full of lovely nonsense.

So naturally with that many versions and a decades long history Mega Man’s had a healthy life in one of my other faviorite meddieums: Comics. Over in his home country of Japan Mega Man’s had tons of Manga: The biggest and one of the few to make it here is Mega Man Megamix, a bunch of stories that, after the first two adapted the first two games in their own rough way, took place after each of the various games, and is pretty damn good. Others off the top of my head include a Mega Man x adaptation where X dates a mermaid, a weird mega man zero adaptation, and a longrunning adaptation of Mega Man Battle Network, all ones I need to read.

Even Brazil had a Mega Man Manga... which I need to cover too.. less because it’s actually good or notable, and more because it’s BATSHIT INSANE, and you can read about it here. But the cliffs notes: Roll is an adult woman who goes around naked half hte time and is the most importnat character, X is master roshi with all the restraint and panty snatching that implies, and ther’es a character that one writer tried to have kill everyone and take over the comic.. yes really. I go most of this .l from that page but it’s documented on various wikis that this did actually happen. Just.. why. All of it. Meanwhile in the US.. we didn’t get that many. No nintendo power adaptations despite being a huge franchise, no horrible malibu comics like street fighter got. There was one attempt by Dreamwave comics in the early 2000′s a series that only lasted 5 issues, and had mega man trying to go to school and some intresting if loose takes ont he franchise.. but the company bottomed out due to horirble mismanagment soon after and mega man sat ont he shelf for a while until the early 2010′s. At a time when Capcom had given up on the franchise, which has thankfully changed dramatically with the release of 11 and the various mega collections, they still gave the liscence to Archie comics, who, wanting some more of that sweet money they were getting off of sonic, gladly took the lisence and gave it to Sonic Scribe and easily the best one the comic had during it’s long run, Ian Flynn, who set about adapting mega man from day 1, while incorperating nods and call forwards to the various other versions of the blue bomber, and adding his own nice touches. What i’ve read is really damn good and it’s a shame it got cut off right before the adaptation for mega man 4. I’m only being so brief as .. I intend to cover it like i’ve been saying. I love the character, Flynn’s comic was one of the best versions of him bar none, and I could use more comics content on here too. It’s a win win, smiles all around. But yeah sadly Archie lost intrest in doing non-Archie stuff, with the Archie Horror Line proving a sucess and a reboot on the horizon. While I do LOVE Archie Comics, this edotiral decision still leaves a bad taste in my mouth and left fans without any mega man till 11 came out and any comics till this year, when the rights apparently lapsed and Boom! Studios, home of such great comics as the mighty morphing power rangers ongoing and JOhn Allison’s wonderful Giant Days, swept it up. Hopefully Boom! will reprint the archie comics eventually, but until then they decided to do a softish reboot of another version of the franchise, another one that like Archie had been given a raw deal.. but unlike Archie had issues: Mega Man; Fully Charged

While most of you probably know this as a refrsher Mega Man: Fully Charged was a cartoon from a few years back, a CGI adatpation of the games in an attempt to get in on that market by Ben 10 and Generator Rex maestro’s Man of Action. Like the Dreamwave comics it followed Mega Man, now Aki LIght as he went to school, did school stuff, and also fought rouge robots after school with secret powers he unlocked before the pilot and were never elaborated on in show. The show kept Dr. Light, Mega Man’s creator and dad, and his dog Rush who while at first looking nothing like the games was later upgraded to resemble his game counterpart more from what i’ve heard and what’s present in this comic. Replacing Mega’s sister Roll, as his real name was Rock because the Mega Man staff loved musical puns, was Suna.. whos basically the same character but human and with an entirely diffrent design. The show also, for whatever fucking reason, added... Mega Mini.. a tiny robot with a brooklyn accent who lived inside Aki, Mega Man’s regular name in this series which i’m fine with as while I do lik ehim going by Rock, I get that’s not really a name. Mini also manages his powers, makes stupid jokes and makes me pray for death but death won’t come. As you can tell I hate the little bugger from the handful of episodes i’ve watched. Rounding out our main heroes is Aki’s best friend Bert Wily, whose likely related to the canon wily and is your standard dorky best friend, but his roll as an inventor does come in handy since Mega hasn’t told his dad he’s a superhero, though it’s revealed in the end that he knows.. I did do my homework, even if i’ve only seen a handful of the series. More on that in a minute. Opposing Mega Man were various robots from the games, adapted with varying degrees of design, from the good.

To the okay if a bit weird.

To the how the fuck is this airman. This is airman

Really good basic design. This is what fully charged calls airman,

Why.. why not just make him Wind Man. He looks more like Wind Man.. why did ... I can bitch about this later when I cover the series, which, yes AGAIN I intend to. BUt seriously he has an awesome looking fan for a face. How do you screw that up.

Behind the robot masters was Sgt. Night. See in a nice twist, and one of the things I like about the series, the world of Fully Charaged already had the kind of robot on human war that would plauge the main mega man timeline for centuries in the backstory, with LIght and Night being vetrans. Night being a racisit moron, wanted to keep robots apart and set up a false flag operation do do so as Commander Night. He however.. wasn’t a compelling vilian and apparnetly dosen’t really get better, not having any depth to his operations or actoins and his basic plan turns out to be, thank you research, to wipe all robots minds to be subservient.. he’s just.. bland compared to wily who while not complex in his motives, he just wants to take over the world, still has style and in some cases,real thought to his plans. Sure the vast majority are “blame it on someone else” but in a LOT of those cases, there’s still thorught and effort put into who he’s blaming to take doubt away from him. IN universe at least. Helping night, is Namagem... yes Mega Man..spelled backwards and this series protoman, but hte character suprisingly DOES sound intresting... he just has one of the worst names in human history. Like my god, in god we trust why not just use proto man. the Character is basically proto man, with the interesting backstory of night kidnapping him, and apparently the series gets loads better once he arrives, so i’m not going to be too hard on the name, as the writers were likely stuck with it. But as i’ve made apparent.. I haven’t watched much of the series. I do want to watch it all and i’m aware the second half is much better, but when trying to binge watch it at a friends house I only got about halfway through season 1, and then just forgot to keep going. And the series does have good pieces: a compelling background of a brutal war, mysteries to unlock, and a steady supply of new villians via the games long history and the series own original, and honestly intresting sounding and looking, robot masters... but it stapled all this to a “cocky hero fights vilians” every week setup we’ve seen a million times and didn’t grab me, but the intresting worldbuildnig and original bits do have me wanting to give it another try so look forward to that. And with all the intresting bits i was truly invested to see a comic make more out of this part of the franchise,a nd was utterly excited, as it could be what the series could’ve been with less hampering by the various parties involved, as fully charged felt like it had a lot of executive madates slapped on. So free of those and free to be whatever it wants with Joe Kelly advising, what has fully charged become? let’s take a look.

We Open 6 months after the series with the comic helpfully catching us via news broadcast.. and the art being moody with washed out colors the tone having done a 180. Seriously it is kind of weird for this unvierse to go from early generator rex, a dark backstory with a bizzarely cheery tone to full on Blade Runner or to put it in mega man terms, The Megas. Seriously the breif bit of silicon city we see , the constant rain as a mysteroius figure whose revealed at the end of the next page to be Namagem.. I expect that a pretty hologram in a raincoat is going to pop up next to him any moment... what I can pick which blade runner I want to refrence. Shoo.

Anyways a broadcast debate between a human reporter and her robot coanchor , ron roburgundy as I will call him, fills us in on exposition, while Mega Man himself narrators like this is a noir.. again i’m half expecting harrison ford to show up. Aki muses about how the city, HIS CITY, almost fell.. oh god is frank miller writing this? Are we going to get a middle schooler talking about how much he wants to make love to a city because no one wants that. Anyways, we get expostion, both for anyone who hadn’t watched the series to give us the cliff notes, and to also catch up returning fans on what they missed. I like it, despite not having watched fully charged to the end, or known exactly what happened until research, this fills it in nicely: At the end of season 1, as I explained earlier Night was arrested, and is thankfully not a part of it nor is his foghorn leghorn attempt at a southren accent. However the remaning Robot Masters are still rioting and a new army of them has started a legit revolution, vandalizing the good guild, which still has that name for some reason despite the tone shift, who are about as compitent as the name implies. Here’s file footage of them fighting Pharoah Man.

Anyways Dr. Light is going to negotiate peace and as I mentoned earlier nams is watching with a glare on his face. And yeah I .. I can’t keep calling him Namagem. That name is just bad and whoever came up with it is one of the biggest morons in marketing history as is whoever decided to force the poor creative team to use it. However while he is Protoman in ways.. it just dosen’t fit. The two were made together in this unvierse, maybe we’ll see as this comic fills in the blanks, and furthermore he’s a bit of protoman and bass.. and since protobass sounds stupid, and blues dosen’t work without the theme naming.. i’m going with Breakman, protoman’s disgusie from 3. With the heavy scaring, broken past and general state of him it just.. fits and HOPEFULLY the comic will give him a full on rename. If it does i’ll go with that but for now I just want to keep from slamming my head into a keyboard every time I have to type out NAMAGEM... excuse me.

hgfjnhnghbjnh

That’s better. Okay so moving on from my new headache, we cut to the desert where the good guild, which is somehow even worse than Breakman’s actual name, are escorting light to a bunker in the desert, where the robots outside tell light to leave the good guild inside. Just as well he’d be better protected with a paper mache sword anda note telling them to go away.

Naturally, not long inside the robot masters leader forces light to bow and handcuffs him, before revealing himself.

Skull Man. Who looks really badass in this thought, the skulls themed scrap throne, his regal posture and his speeches about how he feels that the only way things will be right, and settled is not by the fragile peace silicon city has but by humans beneath his rather sizable boots. And honestly.. he was a good choice for the main robot antagonist: Skull Man’s always had a cool look to him and most versions of him have been pretty cool, and the Megas gave him one hell of a theme song. If you haven’t heard of htem the Megas are an indie rock band that do reworkings of the various songs from mega man games, at the time of this recording a full album for 2, two full albums for 3, an ep for 1, and scattered other songs since the second 3 album, with plans to do their next full album on mega man x. Each of the stage themes for the robot masters is from the prosepctive of one of them and are really damn good and I’d recommend thema nd skullman’s.. really fits him here. take a listen.

youtube

But yeah Skull Man feels like a good choice for a menacing revolutionary, as well as a former combat robot as he himself was apparently in the hard wars. He honestly reminds me a lot of more than meets the eye megatron in flashbacks.. just good stuff. But being in the wars, he’s naturally not too fond of repetant vetran light and plans to kill him as an example. Light however.. isn’t an idiot.. a good man who seeks to do his best, who came in good faith.. but just in case he put some sort of device under his skin and presses it, signaling his son to come save his ass. And thus he does come ...

And one of skullman’s minons mistakes him for a bomb.. which light clarifies i’ts a BLUE BOMBER. To skullman’s credit his response is to just order them to go full throttle showing no panic as Mega Man makes his entrance.

Light thanks him by.. asking what took him so long.. when his son, whose a middle schooler mind you, had to fight through a bunch of armed assholes to get in here most likely. Mini shows up to my annoyance.. though credit where it’s do his zinger of what took so long “some birds, a plane, some guy in a cape” is actually.. really funny. I question why they kept him at ALL, but hey, at least he’s less grating and isn’t around long.. more on that in a minute.

A really well drawn action scene insues.. while the expressions vary for this comic, I will give the fight scnee, I will give the artist credit for having fluid motion and nice pops of color, most things are kind of blendy into the background other than major character but the color pops where it should.. not exactly my style but it works okay. In a nice change of his character though, Aki offers to spare the various robots there of a fight and possible death, as while he already attacked them it was in self defense. And while it is a 180 from the show.. it’s not only a welcome change as it’s closer to the games canon and a more intersting personality.. it also still works. Aki went through a LOT at the end of season 1: while he did win, he found out he had a brother, his dad knew who he was but was never honest with him about it and also likely knows where his power came from but hasn’t told him, and has had to deal with 6 months worth of rioting where he’s unsure what side he’s on, machine like he is or man like his family. He’s trying to find the right ballance; be the hero his city needs.. but be the man he needs to be, one who will spare his enemies and won’t fight unless he needs to, for the good fo everyone, His friends, his family, everyone in the city who deserves to sleep soundly. And he’s also starting to wonder, via narration of course, if he’s a hero.. or even a kid.. or a weapon> Which again while a bit of a shift from the series again makes sense: he’s a middle school aged boy who started this jsut fighting random assholes and some idiot racist who was transparently evil and had selfish goals.. now he’s fighting against a revolution who MIGHT have a point. While Silcion city seemd fine and equal.. there wer eplenty of idiot swilling to listen to night. As the real world has proven over the last few months, just because things have gotten better, dosen’t mean that things are 100% or that prejudice is just gone. He’s a 12 year old asked to take a stand in a messy conflict that lead to war in the past with his father offering no answers and growing colder. While I thought his angst was bit overblown on first reading the more I think about it the more it fits.

Anyways Mega makes short work of the skull squad after they refuse to back down, but while Mega Man’s ready to ghost.. Skull Man’s not done and drills into mega man’s head... and reveals something. Flashbacks.

But yeah, Skull Man’s either implanted or restored some memory of Aki fighting in the hard wars.. right alongside dr. light.. with a drill because science. DR. Light then gets REALLY badass, breaking out of the robot restraining him’s grip before fucking UPERCUTTING Skull Man.. jesus christ, Dr.Light clearly traded his empathy for miraclo pills holy balls. Rush helps him escape and take Aki with him but skull man’s confident, he lost the battle but won Mega’s mind. On the way home Mega Man tells dr.light what he saw and isn’t sure if it’s the past the future or something else but Dr.Light assures him..

Even though his eyes give away he’s clearly hiding something. Also I haven’t mentioned it yet but Dr.Light looks like santa in this sisue, red shirt, blue pants, big white beard. Just.. why though. Just put him in a suit or something. Also Mini crawls out of Mega’s head and passes out due to the memory restoration.. a nice way to write him out while still giving it weight since while the audience is presumibly cheering his long overdue demise, he is aki’s friend.. why I have no idea but he is. Back at the lighthouse, the light’s home and home base, which is admitely a really good alternate name for light labs and a better one in my opinon. Light brushes off Suna, telling her to go to bed and avoiding telling her anything. Yeahhh.. while it could be the pressure of the situation I really dont’ like dr.light’s characterization before. Fully Charged, outside of the whole secret identity thing which at least was expalined as Aki not knowing if his dad would let him continue as mega man if he knew, though it extended clearly past the point he was clearly supporting mega man’s actions so I dunno. But he was a compationste scientest, deeply ashamed of his past in the war and wanting to make peace, he was done really well and peformed well by gary chalk. Here? He’s a dick who clearly did something terrible in the past and treats his kids like crap. It’s okay to be suspcious of him given the flashback but he’s given us no reason to like him or want to hear his side eventually, and hopefully that changes.

Suna talks to Aki who tells her what happened and both side give out good arguments; Suna points out she reallyc an’t trust what some creepy asshole put in his head, as Skull Man could just want to brainwash him.. but Aki counters easily and quietly: How’s he supposed to know what’s real if his dad won’t tell him anything? He took months to tell Aki he knew about his alter ego, and even before his id came out avoided talking about the hard war, which hasn’t changed. He vows to find out though, and Suna naturally is helpful, pointing out there’s more people to ask and since she actually pays attention in school she knwos just who.. Dr. Wily. Yup he’s finally here. dun dun dun. We then close as Breakman watches and tells his brother he can’t stop what’s started. And we’re out. Mega Final Thoughts: This was a decent issue, doing a fair job of bringing in new readers, and the art was decent and matched the tone.. which If elt was a bit too bleak at times. Better than say a Zack Snyder film at least, but still a bit too close to that form of edgelord for my case. That said it opens up some intresting mysteries and has me at least willing to give it another shot next month and was a solid opener, which while not having the best charcterzation for dr light, vastly improved Aki and Suna’s while giving us a far more intersting villian in Skull Man. If this holds, we’ll see. But until then I plan to cover more mega man comics, as well as my continued weekly coverage of amphibia. Until I see you again, stay safe, wear a mask and later days

6 notes · View notes

melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3 The Frayed Ends of Sanity

Thief and the Outlaw Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel / X-men

Summary:

Pairing: Peter x OC

Notes: The mystery continues. I’m not very good at suspenseful stories

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

--------

Do not grieve, O King and Queen. Your daughter shall not die. I cannot undo what my elder sister has done; the princess shall indeed prick her finger with the spindle, but she shall not die. She shall fall into sleep that will last a hundred years. At the end of that time, a king’s son will find her and awaken her. - Sleeping Beauty

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Gemma had always loved fairytales as a kid. Not your classic Disney movies (although those were great too) but the weird stuff, the originals. Her mother had given her a book of old fables which the young girl had devoured. She adored how the heroes would fight for their fates while the villains would make some weird mistake, would slip up and meet their demise so that the heroes could win.

Gemma also loved how in those stories the ideas were so outlandish. A girl out in a glass cage because she was too beautiful her parents were worried someone would try and take her away.

A stepmother cutting off her daughter’s own toe just so it would fit in a shoe. Just to catch the eye of a prince.

Or a girl sleeping for a million years only to have a man come and kiss her. Wake her from the spell she had been put under.

Normally the princesses never asked for their lots in life, just becoming a tool for some vindictive evil to reach their revenge.

Although Gemma was jealous of one thing.

At least the princesses got some rest.

-----

It was cold.

That was Gemma’s first thought as she stirred from her slumber. The night air giving her goosebumps. Had she left a window open? Shivering she tried to reach for her blanket only to realize she wasn’t in her bed. Had she fallen again?

Slowly she opened her eyes her world coming into view.

Large trees looked back shading her from an early morning sky. The sun just slowly starting to turn the dark blue into shades of pink and gold. The ground crunching under her as she moved, something poked her in the rib.

This wasn’t her bedroom.

Sitting up she gasped looking around. Why was she outside? Where was she? What was going on?

Her head was pounding as if her heart had decided to reside there hammering against her skull. Her whole body ached as if she had spent the at a metal concert in the mosh pit.

Rubbing her arm trying to get the blood flowing to warm herself up she looked around trying to get her bearings. She was in a forest but there were a lot of forests around her home in New Jersey. Most not very expansive, but this cleaning of nature could be anywhere.

Letting out a sigh she tried to calm her brain. Tried to remember how she had gotten her. Had she been drugged?

The last thing she remembered was sitting on the bus with that weird boy listening to music.

The boy.

There was no way. She hadn’t eaten anything and they sat far enough apart she would have felt something.

Looking down she realized something else.

She wasn’t in her work clothes.

Instead, she was in a black long sleeve shirt and jeans. The jeans looked pretty beat up and the shirt was missing a sleeve.

“What the actual…”

“Gemma?”

At the sound of her name, she looked up.

And there he was.

The boy.

Ok man but…

“What are you… Where am I?”

“Are you ok? I called the police…”

“What… How?”

He knelt down next to her a few feet away. His large brown eyes looking her over as if looking over a wounded animal. His voice gentle, “You’ve been missing for a week.”

“I’ve WHAT!?!” her voice felt horse as if she had been screaming -maybe the concert idea wasn’t too far fetched-. A hand flew up to her chest. Was she going crazy? She had just lost a week and work up in totally different clothes feeling like she had been run over by a bus.

“Shhh shhh” he said scooting closer, “You’re going to be ok.”

She turned to him her blue eyes wide and accusingly. Why was he here? How had he found her? How did he know it had been a week?

“GEMMA!” This voice she instantly recognized. Her father. Her mother’s sobs could be heard as well as the barking of a dog. Looking past the silver-haired boy she saw her parents and a few policemen, one tugging on the leash of a german shepherd- coming toward her.

Her father reached her first rushing to her taking her in his arms hugging, “Where have you been?” he pulled away running his hands over her face studying her, “What happened?”

“I… I don’t know dad. I was going to work and then… I was here.”

“Did someone drug you? Is it that one guy from your work? Paul? Did he touch you?”

“No, dad… I… Honestly” she looked up at her mother who was sobbing, the relief they had found her daughter causing her to cry uncontrollably, “I don’t remember anything.”

“Maybe this had someone to do with...” Her mother started but Gemma’s father cut her off turning shaking his head. The man turned toward their audience. The two policemen and the scruffy haired bus rider.

Gemma met her finder’s eyes for a moment. He shifted slightly looking awkwardly between her and her parents as if he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not.

“Thank you for finding our daughter...” Gemma’s father stood holding out his hand.

“Peter”

“Thanks, kid” taking Peter’s hand he shook it before turning to the cops. “We’re going to take her home,”

The cops nodded one of them handing Gemma a blanket to wrap her body around. She didn’t realize she was shaking until her mother wrapped her arms around her kissing her forehead mumbling “my baby girl”

Gemma turned studying the boy, Peter. Hand’s shoved in his pockets he met her gaze through shaggy hair his expression unreadable. So different from the silly energetic weird boy on the bus. He seemed so serious now. Not in a scary way but almost like he was confused maybe?

Then again he had just found a girl who had been apparently missing a week and couldn’t remember any of it.

“How did you find me?” she finally asked looking up at her parents as she buckled herself into the back seat of the car. Her mother scooting up next to her as if not wanting to leave her side.

“We knew you were missing when your work called.” her mother let out a strangled sob at the memory. “You never showed up”

“Nancy…”

“I’m sorry I was just so scared. Sweetie, is it your powers? Are they evolving further? Maybe we should go back to that doctor?”

Her parents lapsed into silence waiting for her answer. Gemma looked out the window unsure how to respond. “I don’t think it’s my powers, I don’t know what it is,” she muttered looking down at her hands.

“That boy, I think he’s the one who called us. Saying he found our lost daughter and where to be. Do you know him?”

Gemma bit her lip, should she tell them? It would only worry them more. No, she needed to figure this out for herself first. She needed more facts before she dragged them into this.

“No. Guess he just found me in the forest.”

“How did he know to call us?”

The question sent a chill down her spine.

How did he?

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

Drew greeted her with a hug and a plate of pizza.

“I even ordered gross mushrooms just for you,” he mumbled shifting from foot to foot as if unsure what to do with himself. Something about it reminded Gemma of the boy in the forest.

Peter.

After dinner she told her parents she was going to bed, tired and sore she just wanted to sleep this whole experience away. A small part of her hoped maybe she would just wake up and it would all be a bad dream

Unfortunately sleep didn’t come as easy as she hoped. Instead, she just laid there looking up at her ceiling trying to piece together that had happened.

What was wrong with her?

Finally, the clock ticked 1am and she gave up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

Sitting up she shuffled across the room pulling a book off the shelf. Fairytales and folktales. Slowly she walked back to her bed and that was when she saw him.

Standing outside her window, leaning against the large oak in her backyard.

Their eyes locked, his brown ones growing wide and he turned about to bolt.

But he couldn’t.

A bright blue wall blocked his way.

“You STAY!” she hissed from her window before scrambling through the window climbing down from the second floor. Something she used to do all the time in her teen years. Sneaking out to meet friends on school nights.

Peter turned watching her as she stormed up to him. Hands glowing eyes bright, angry.

“Who are you and what do you want with me?” The girl stood there in her sweat pants and tank top eyes flashing with sparks of energy. Something he had only seen when she wasn’t Gemma. When she was that other girl.

“I’m just checking in” he shrugged looking down at her a soft smile playing on his lips. Now that she wasn’t trying to take him or his team down he realized how much smaller she was than him. Her head coming to about his chin, her frame looking even smaller in a tight tank top and baggy sweats.

“Oh really? Seems kind of creepy, you standing outside my window, showing up on my bus ride to work, the first to find me in the woods...” her arms crossed over her chest trying to look scary. He wasn’t sure why she didn’t scar him. She had kicked his butt more times than he could count at this point. Maybe it had something to do with the fluffy cloud pattered sweats she was wearing.

“I wasn’t the one who put you there if that’s what you’re asking”

“Then why are you always around?” Gemma asked studying the boy trying to find the answers.

“Why do you think? Do you really not remember?” his voice was low as if he was telling her a secret.

She took a step back sizing him up. Studying him as if he had the answers for her lost week. He waited for the realization. He really didn’t look all THAT different without the suit.

“Did we go to school together?”

“What!?! NO.” how could she not… “The power plant? You and your three friends… there was a bunch of wiz bang.” Peter made a few motions like explosions and lasers. This earned him nothing but a blank stare. There was no way. “Look come on, there is no way…” he reached out for her hand and that’s when it happened.

Their hands touched and it was like lighting. Cracking between them as their hands touched. Peter felt it pulled from him exploding into her. Bright blue and sparking with an energy that lit up the whole neighborhood for just an instant.

The force of it threw them both backward laying in the grassy lawn just blinking at each other.

“What just happened?” Gemma asked her eyes sparkling with the energy that flicked around her before slowly dying like sapphire embers.

Peter shrugged getting up feeling his body quickly regenerating itself, “What can I say? I have an explosive personality” darting over he stood above her. Showing his speed to her for the first time that night.

Gemma looked up at him from her seat, her mind racing hands still warm from the surge of energy. Peter held out his hand to help her up “let’s try this again?” he said a large smile on his face.

Warry she studied it for a moment before slowly slipping her fingers around his open hand. “You’re a mutant like me.”

Peter nodded, “I’m pretty fast yeah” he winked as her which earned him a small smile.

“I knew there were others I just never met one.” she told him her hand still clasping his “Hey what” her hand went up to her neck pulling away as he had leaned forward trying to get closer to her. His eyes went from her shoulder to her eyes face so close she could see the stubble on his cheeks and the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

“Huh.” and like that he was standing a much more normal distance from her.

“What?”

“You really don’t remember me at all? Honest.”

“Besides the bus and today, no. Why?” she wracked her brain trying to think of where she had seen this boy before. She couldn’t very well say her dreams. That was weird, creepy and also made no sense.

“Ok well, see you around then.” he gave her a mock salute before disappearing into the dark night leaving only a gust of wind in his wake. Gemma frowned biting her lip as she wrang her hands feeling even more confused than before.

As Peter raced toward the Xsavior Mansion his mind was racing as well. Everything clicking together. If they hadn’t touched. If her long blonde hair hadn’t flown forward while she had turned to see the ground before she hit it.

He wouldn’t have glimpsed it. At the base of her neck. Siting there snugly like a tick embedded in her skin.

And it all made sense now.

GET TAGGED!-

Forever tag: @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep @cdwmtjb8

Story Tag: @olive-tini

#peter maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff fanfic #Peter Maximoff x oc #Peter maximoff #x men oc #thief and the outlaw #gemma #my story #my fic #my writing #x men fanfic

17 notes · View notes

cesabutterflywrites · 4 years

Text

The Duke of the Bay: Part 2

If you want to be put on a taglist for this please let me know!

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part

Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Word Count: 2875

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

Logan closed his eyes in frustration. “Damn it.”

“That’s no way to talk in the presence of young ladies,” Lola purred next to them.

Logan jumped, and glared at the girls. “I don’t think someone who goes to places like this and dances as provocatively as you counts as a lady.”

Patton shot Logan a warning glance. He didn’t need more enemies in the room. Logan’s face quickly fell in shame. “I’m sorry, Lola. That was unkind of me.”

Lola threw her head back and laughed. “Please, sugar, that’s the manliest you’ve acted all night. For a moment I thought you were a fairy,” she leaned in with a wink, “You know...a pansy.”

Logan’s face flushed red. He sputtered like a broken faucet, unable to form a coherent response. “N-no! I’m not!” He vehemently denied.

“Hey, don’t sweat it if you are, honey,” Alice tried to soothe, “We’re not exactly straight, ourselves.”

Logan looked at them curiously, “You mean…?”

Lola smirked, “If anyone asks, we’re cousins.”

“Then why- then how come-what?” Logan’s brow was furrowed, trying to understand what they were trying to get up to. The girls just smiled at him. He looked desperately at Patton. “Do you know what they’re saying?”

“I think they’re trying to say that they're lesbians; kissing pals,” he winked at their blushing faces. “Though, I still think you’re a bit too young to know for sure, Alice.”

Alice jutted her pointed chin in defiance, “I’m sixteen,”

Logan choked on nothing, starting to cough in disbelief. Patton reached an arm out to steady him, but he was denied. Logan seemed to be having a rough time adjusting to the swinger’s life for the night.

Patton ignored him, turning back to the girls. “Why were you dancing with us, then?” he asked for his speechless friend.

Lola looked at Alice and shrugged, “I still like men, but Alice makes me feel things no man has been able to.”

Alice smiled fondly and nuzzled into her partner’s cheek. “Same here, Lola. There’s something soft about a woman’s touch that a man can’t remake.”

Patton watched them carefully. “Aren’t you asking for trouble, flaunting that around?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed sooner, considering you’re one of the Duke’s friends,” Lola remarked, “Look around the room. There’s a reason this place is so well guarded.”

Logan put his fist in his mouth, trying to keep up. “So you mean the Duke…?”

“Doesn’t mind dropping the pins and letting his hair down,” Lola filled in. “So, neither of you are…?”

It was Patton’s turn to blush, aware of no longer being an outsider watching a circus performance.

He never gave it much thought. All he wanted was to make the world a better place. He never imagined how he’d settle down, or who with. He just expected it to happen one day.

“I suppose I never gave it much thought,” Patton muttered. He looked at Logan who was staring intently at the floor. “But I know I don’t mind folks who are. My parents raised me to be a loving man, which includes men who love men.”

Logan looked up at him, eyes conveying a secret bit of gratefulness. Patton just smiled encouragingly. He had his suspicions, but he knew Logan was a good detective no matter what. That was all that mattered, and in that moment there was an even bigger matter that was more important than discussing various sexualities.

“Say, girls, what did you mean when you asked about us being the Duke’s friends and being...queer?” The word felt weird to say out loud, especially in reference to himself. It wasn’t bad. Just a little bit different.

Lola giggled as Alice blushed then said, “We just thought, well, usually he only has special guests when they’re his arm pieces. We’re sorry for assuming.”

Patton took his fake glasses off to wipe the sweat off of his face. He felt the urge to get another gin, but he knew he needed his senses sharp so he could be prepared for talking to the Duke. He also felt a bit hungry.

“No worries, ladies. I think Mr. James and I need to go get something to eat, I’m famished.” He dipped his head as they smiled politely.

He and Logan made their way to the table next to the bar, and grabbed some plates of food. They made their way to the dining tables in the room next door. There were a few couples in the room, and the music was less loud in there. Patton was keenly aware of Mr. Doris who entered the room behind them. He felt those intense eyes staring straight through his skull.

He tried to ignore it while he ate with his companion. “So, what’s the attack plan?”

Logan thought as he chewed. “Maybe we just go along, and if our lives get in danger we use our guns. They haven’t confiscated them from us yet.”

“What if that was part of the trap?” Patton asked. “And further, why would the Duke lure us in? Why not have us kidnapped like he’s done with others?”

Logan shuddered, “I don’t know, Pat, and I don’t want to consider that at this moment. We’ll save the why’s for later. We need to focus on gathering enough evidence, and getting out of here alive.”

Patton just nodded. “So where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know,” Logan muttered, tossing his fork down when he finished his meal, “There are a lot more questions than answers. Frankly, my mind is still spinning from that drink.”

“It was barely half a glass of gin, Logan,” Patton snickered, “I’ve had worse.”

Logan raised his eyebrow. “When?”

“Before the prohibition,” he waved dismissively, “My pops used to let me have a bit of whiskey every Saturday night.”

Logan tutted, “No wonder you’re so cheerful. There’s silly juice in your blood.”

Patton laughed, “Yeah, well, I am Irish.”

The moment of brevity disappeared as a shadow loomed over them. Mr. Doris, their guardian of the evening, loomed over them. “The Duke will see you now.”

-----

Logan was put into a separate waiting room upstairs as Patton was led to an office down the hall.

He gasped as he entered the room. The office was full of oddities. The shelves had bizarre jars full of mysterious colored horrors. There were stuffed animal mounts hanging on the wall, along with a few posters with graphic depictions of murders and scantily clad people of both sexes.

“How professional, “ he remarked in a high pitch as he walked in.

The Duke smiled behind his desk, “Thank you. I like to keep my office cozy.” He looked at his henchman, “Go wait by the door, Mr. Doris. I’ll call if he pulls a gun on me,” he winked at Patton.

The scarred man just nodded, glaring at Patton as he left to guard the door. Patton gulped nervously.

“Come in, detective, sit. Make yourself comfortable.” The Duke gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

Patton considered briefly before deciding to sit. The chair was surprisingly comfortable, but he didn’t let himself relax fully. He stared at the most dangerous criminal in the Bay. He was on guard, suspicious that the Duke would order him to be killed at any moment.

“Why did you bring us here, Duke?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

The man behind the desk snickered, “Oh, detective, please tell me you’re more creative than that? Try a different question. Something more...interesting.”

Patton tilted his head in confusion. What was this man’s deal? “Uh...okay,” he spoke hesitantly, “Rumor has it you drop pins…?”

The Duke guffawed, “Oh, there’s one I haven’t heard! Thank you!” He kept giggling as he spoke, “I’m sorry, it’s just, the usual gets so boring sometimes. ‘Why am I here?’ ‘What do you want from me?’ ‘Are you gonna kill me?’” Remus rolled his eyes, “But to answer your question, yes, I let my hair down.”

He raised a brow at Patton seductively, “Does that bother you, good detective?”

“No, Duke,” he said honestly, “That’s not why I’m on your tail.”

“Oh, I wish you were on my tail,” the man sighed with a dreamy smile, “I bet you’d be a good one.”

Patton blushed, “Just get to the point.”

“Right,” The Duke slammed the desk. “I want you, your partner, and your other copper friends to lay off my people. Just turn a blind eye, and in reward we’ll take care of you.”

“What if I refuse?” Patton asked warily.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to run and hide deeper in the shadows,” the villain smirked. “If you want me, come and get me. Have fun trying, at least.” He spread his arms out.

“You won’t kill us?” the detective asked in disbelief. “You won’t make us disappear?”

“No,” the Duke truthfully told with his eyes wide, “I guess I won’t…” but he leaned forward with a wicked grin. “But you’ll never be able to lay a hand on me as I take over the town.”

Patton stayed silent, considering his options. He could pretend to agree to the demands, and warn the captain in his next report. However, the Duke seemed smart. He’d probably have eyes and ears out anyways to know if any funny business was going on. Patton was starting to believe that Logan was right after all. Someone on the force was bought off already, just to get the Duke close enough to the lead detectives on his case.

The Duke stood up from behind the desk to lean over Patton, who blushed at the proximity. There was no denying the villain was handsome, and there was something seductive about the way he looked at Patton. Like a hungry wolf who cornered his prey. Patton shivered in dangerous delight. He tried to shake the lustful feelings coming over his body. His conversation with the young girls downstairs was playing through his mind.

‘I never gave it much thought’, he had said then. Well, suddenly, he was giving it a lot of thought at that moment. The Duke must be a magician of some sorts, or that gin was stronger than he initially thought.

The man was staring at him, waiting for an answer. He looked like the devil before he was cast down to earth. He was beautiful, especially since Patton could look at him up close. His face was sculpted perfectly, and his grin was a mockery of purity. He was well kept, but looked like he could go feral at any moment. That only increased the seductive, dark aura he radiated.

Patton shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. He didn’t really enjoy the way he was being looked at, mainly because it made him want to gaze back as intensely and succumb to his proposal…

He chose to focus on the case at hand. “You said you’d take care of us?” You’d take care of me?

The Duke tapped his chin in thought, “I didn’t expect you to cave in so quickly, Detective O’Hearty. I thought you were selfless. At least that’s the word on the street.”

“Maybe I’m tired of being a slave to unreturned good deeds,” Patton lied. He had a plan forming, and it required getting the man’s guard down.

“Well, you’ll still be a slave if you work for me,” the Duke smirked, “But a willing one after time.

“Back to the subject of your benefits. Your precinct will be receiving an anonymous donation of 5% of our profits. My guys won’t interfere with any investigation outside of our operation, and maybe we can help you out but turning in some of our criminal rivals. Every now and then we might need your help, and you, along with your partner, will be at my personal disposal”

Patton deflated. Those conditions were really good. Was this how cops turned? The mobsters sent in gifts and seducers to prey on the weakness of men. He could end up doing a lot of good if they worked together, and really, they weren’t doing much harm to anyone except with their own criminals in their world.

No. No, it was wrong. He pledged to uphold the law, to enforce a certain code of morals that kept the public safe. The man standing in front of him was a murderer, he was a psycho. He was clearly deranged. He was charming, and used his charm to nearly get Patton to budge.

He needed to get out of there, but safely. The Duke made it clear that he may not be leaving alive, but he needed some time to think. An idea formed in his head. He was slightly disgusted with himself, but it had a larger chance of working than any other option.

He stood up and took off his fake spectacles. He leaned in the Duke’s personal space to set them on the dark mahogany desk. He then stayed to look down at the grinning man. Two could play a Devil’s game.

He played with the black tie that was set against the light green dress shirt. He heard the shorter man’s breath hitch. He leaned in a bit closer, setting his thigh discreetly between the shorter man’s legs. He lowered his voice to an unnatural pitch.

“Tell, me, Duke,” he leaned in to whisper in the man’s ear, “Did you really suspect that I’d be squeaky clean?”

Putting on the act was easier than it should have been, and a part of Patton panicked. He kept his cool, giving just a bit into his own budding desires to keep it all seeming authentic.

He let go of the tie, choosing to use that hand to lean on the desk, subtly trapping the breathless man beneath him. He hesitantly bent in to stroke his nose along the soft neck of the criminal.

“I think a part of you suspected who I really am,” he pressed his body further, completely molding him against the shorter man. He smiled in triumph as he heard a tantalizing moan slip from the mustached mouth.

“Part of you knew my own sinful desires, didn’t you? You didn’t call me here for business,” he swallowed his nerves to kiss the soft skin below the earlobe he was speaking half-truths into.

“No, I didn’t,” the Duke squirmed.

Patton was intrigued. He hadn’t expected such a powerful man to become so easily undone. He pulled away from his assault on the man’s neck to look into the man’s eyes, to see the truth.

The truth in the crazy eyes he had made him momentarily forget all he ever learned in Sunday School. The nearly black eyes burned with heated desire. Patton felt some fear, with all that chaos was focused on him, he would surely break. He felt strange, completely out of his body. What was he doing?

The criminal pulled Patton in by his tie and they were kissing. Patton knew he let the scenario go too far by then. It felt so good, though. There was something more grizzly about kissing another man, and frankly the tickle of the mustache added to the appeal of the moment. He kissed back, shouting to himself that it was just to keep up appearances.

He needed to leave, before he tossed all his morals out the window.

He pulled away, “Give me some time to think about your offer? As appealing as it is, I need to keep up appearances.”

The Duke smiled maniacally, “My dear detective, but of course!”

Patton tried to pull himself off of the other quickly, however the Duke gripped his hip and held him in place. Patton gasped as the man’s hand wandered across his waist. Then, he realized too late, that his gun had been pulled on him.

He looked down in betrayal and shock, he had thought he was succeeding in getting underneath the man’s skin.

“Don’t look so surprised, my dear detective, I didn’t get up to the top by my pretty looks. I do have some bit of intelligence,” he gestured to have Patton sit back onto the chair. “Though, let me tell you, with that little show you put on, I nearly did lose my marbles.”

The Duke licked his lips and moaned rather loudly, “You’re a good actor. That surely will haunt my dreams tonight,” he looked to the door and called his henchman back in.

Mr. Doris came back in, the permanent scowl on his face made him look like a sort of reptile to Patton. He walked to stand guard behind Patton, placing a yellow gloved hand firmly on the detective’s shoulder. Patton flinched at the touch, chastising himself for what he had sacrificed...only to fail.

Shortly after another younger, smaller guard brought Logan in. Logan was resisting, though it was futile. The kid had a good grip, and shoved the other detective into the seat beside Patton. He has unruly black hair, darker skin, and a hateful look in his eyes. He mimicked the other guard’s grip by having his own hand on Logan’s collarbone.

The Duke moved back behind his desk, grinning like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Well, gentlemen, let’s talk business.”

TAGLIST: @littlestr

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist of this story!

#Intruality #Romantic intruality #Patton sanders #Logan sanders #Deceit Sanders #Virgil Sanders #remus sanders #the duke #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #multi chapter #Mob AU #The Duke of the Bay AU #The Duke of the Bay Part 2 #gun mention #alcohol mention #internalized homophobia #The Duke of the Bay #Mama Cesa writes

8 notes · View notes

theemptyquarto · 3 years

Text

Abandoned WIP

Warstan (but John got killed off before the story starts) and purely platonic Sherlock & Mary. Quite AU... John and Mary get together before Sherlock jumped off of Bart’s. Maybe a little bit of hinted unrequited Johnlock, I honestly can’t remember if I was going there with this fic. A “Mary is the new Watson” retelling of “The Adventure of the Empty House,” rated T. This was written before S3 happened and I fell in love with BBC Mary and she actually made me view BBC John as an interesting character in his own right and I rejiggered my alignments.

I’m going to rant here, just briefly, about how ACD’s Mary Morstan is probably one of the most wronged-by-their-author characters that I can think of, which is why I started writing this fic where she takes the lead.

She appears for the first time in the second-ever (authorially, not chronologically) Sherlock Holmes story, “The Sign of the Four,” and is delightful. Watson falls hard in love right away and acts like a huge dweeb about her, she’s courageous, clever, and kind. Maybe without all the panache of the later Irene Adler, but a more traditionally Victorian heroine for our more traditionally Victorian junior protagonist. Her next appearance, “The Adventure of the Crooked Man,” is significantly more tangential, but she sets the action of the story in play and is shown to be a helpful, kind figure.

And then all of a sudden Conan Doyle ships her off to visit her mother (she was established as an orphan), stops using her at all, and finally kills her off.

Not even on the page. Between books. And it’s mentioned so tangentially in two lines of “The Adventure of the Empty House” that you can easily miss it if you aren’t looking for it.

(Incidentally this sort of shit is why ACD fandom can’t agree on how many wives Watson had or who the subject of his “sad bereavement” is. The number ranges from 1-13.)

Why, Artie? Why did you do that? I mean I get if you want to park Watson back at Baker Street you probably do have to off her but you were a fairly good hack and doing it this way made you give up the opportunity to have some sort of emotional payoff in your stories. Especially since you later introduce another wife character who is in no way distinct from Mary (a niche component of ACD fandom thinks that Mary didn’t die at all and Watson “abandoning (Holmes) for a wife,” was him and Mary reconciling after an estrangement.)

Anyway. Don’t create cool characters and then kill them for no good reason. That’s my point.

_____________

The Empty Flat (Mary)

I had been widowed for three months and was rather surprised at how badly I was doing with it. The snug three-bedroom garden flat in Maida Vale had been the perfect size for a not-quite-young couple planning on children. Now it seemed vast and empty and utterly, utterly silent. When I slept, which wasn’t all that much, I did it on the sofa. Our bed still smelled faintly of his aftershave, and I couldn’t stand either to sleep there or to wash the sheets. Arthur, the blue point Siamese cat who I had bought into the marriage, would curl up on my feet and awaken me with his yowls in the morning.

To some extent I had been able to occupy my mind with work, and the requirements of my job had kept me more or less a functional adult. But the summer holidays had begun a week previous, and I was thus thrown entirely on my own resources, which were scant. What family I had left were all back in America, and the friends I had made in England seemed to have melted away since John’s death. Some days, I thought that this was due to the universal impulse to avoid reminders of mortality. Other days I decided it was more likely due to the fact that I deleted their emails and declined to answer their phone calls.

The truth, as always, was probably somewhere in the middle.

Whatever the cause, my life was empty. I ate when I remembered that I was meant to. I wore pajamas all day. I left the flat when I ran out of cat food, and at night I would turn on the tv and stare at it without paying attention until I finally sank into oblivion.

Presumably it was on one of those descents into the maelstrom of crap British late-night TV that I first took note of the murder of Ronald Adair. The dead man was vaguely familiar to me, though I had never watched any of his shows personally. He was a scion of one of those impoverished but very old-and-noble families that the English keep on out of sentiment. Showing unusual initiative for one of his class, he’d made a success of himself by appearing on a famous reality show, then on the “celebrity” version of that show, and parlaying that into one of those mysterious but apparently quite lucrative careers that consist mostly of having your picture taken.

And now, he was dead, shot in the back of the head in his own bedroom on Park Lane.

The story struck me, for some reason. John, when he’d been alive, used to take four daily papers and half a dozen weeklies, and I had not cancelled them yet. I plucked a week’s worth out of the recycling where I had tossed them, unread, and scanned through them for articles about the murder.

Ronald Adair had been alone in his bedroom, drinking neat whiskey and updating twitter, when he died. His last tweet (@JustLukeyA, “LOL C U @ Ibiza”) had been sent at 10:11 in the evening. His personal assistant had heard the sound of breaking glass, broken down the locked door that led into the bedroom, seen his body, and dialed 999 by 10:17. The bullet had been a large caliber hollow point round that had done severe damage to the back of his skull, and he had most likely died almost instantly.

The entire affair was mysterious. While the police hadn’t released any real statements, the personal assistant had been the only other person in the house at the time of the shooting, and had been released after questioning. This would suggest the shot had been fired from outside, but the window in Adair’s bedroom, while open, was on the fourth floor. There was no evidence to suggest anyone had climbed to the window, meaning that the shot had come from somewhere outside.

This made no sense at all to the gossip rags. The window faced directly over Hyde Park, and any level shot would have had to come from over a mile away. And shooting from ground level would have been impossible: the Park was open, reasonably crowded given the warmth of the summer evening, and no one had heard a thing. The American embassy was less than two hundred yards away, and even its overblown security hadn’t noted any unusual activity. Essentially, it was impossible that he could have been shot, and yet there he was.

As I read through the papers, I thought how John would have gone through them at the breakfast table to try and figure out what had happened. Although his professional interest in solving mysteries had died with Sherlock, he never lost his fascination with the more arcane sorts of crime. He would have loved this one, and I could imagine the crinkles that would form around his eyes as he would describe the possible motives, mechanisms, and solutions. It was a Sunday, and I suspected that he would have wheedled me into taking our normal long walk in the direction of the crime scene. I’d have teased him, said he was morbid, but I’d have gone, and he’d have hypothesized happily for a while.

I could so clearly imagine it, and it made me smile, despite myself. It had been difficult to like Sherlock Holmes, and very difficult to deal with the fact that their association put John into danger on a regular basis. Yet, now that they were both gone, I found myself forgiving every thoughtless insult and sleepless lonely night the detective ever gave me, since he had made John so happy.

Wishing to hang on to my happy memory, I decided, abruptly, to take the walk over to Park Lane myself, just as John and I would have done. It was past time I actually started doing things again. I would go and see where Ronald Adair had died, and I would try and solve the mystery, and I would remember John. Quickly, before I could change my mind, I showered, dressed, and left the flat.

July, in London, is one of the few times of the year when it approaches being warm enough, and it was a beautiful day. I took the long route around Kensington Park, since a straight shot would have taken me directly past St. Mary’s Hospital, where John had worked - and where his body had been taken. The trees were brilliant green, and it seemed everyone in London was sunbathing or playing football or falling in love around me.

Ronald Adair’s flat was adjacent to the Mariott, in one of the converted brick Georgian edifices that infest all of Park Lane. I had forgotten to take note of the number, but it was easily identifiable by the flowers and stuffed animals heaped up on the low fence that surrounded it. There were a fair number of gawkers, and by asking, I found which window Adair had been shot through. I was stumped, for the moment, but thinking logically, decided the best route was to see from where I could have made the shot. The busy street and the shrubbery borders of the park being ruled out, necessarily, I confined my attention to the sidewalks. I took pictures on my phone, and paced around, and tried to work out the trigonometry involved.

Then I stopped. There were half a dozen locations from which the shot could have come. It would be the hell of a task: the window was small and high, but if it were dark out and the shooter were aiming into a lit room, it would be possible. I had hunted a lot as a kid, and might have been able to make it with a rifle. John, who had been an excellent marksman, might have been able to do it with a handgun. But to do it quickly enough to avoid notice in a busy neighborhood, to do it silently? That was impossible.

All facts that were undoubtedly obvious to the police. If John had been with me, it would have been a fun little mathematical exercise. We’d have followed it with a walk home, dinner at the pub on the end of our street, and making tipsy love in the light of a summer sunset in our flat. But he wasn’t with me, and he never would be again, and the day would end as all days did, alone with the cat and the television and the dark. The whole thing was a pointless, futile exercise - a little girl’s attempt to play make-believe.

I knew, suddenly, that I was going to cry. It happened a lot, and it wasn’t an experience I wanted to share with all London, so I spun around to depart and slammed full-force into a souvenir hawker who had been just behind me. Grace has always eluded me. The pole she carried, hung with ballcaps and other tat, fell to the ground, and she gave an indignant Cockney squawk of “Oi! Watch it!” I bent to retrieve her pole and handed it back to her, mumbling, “Sorry, sorry,” and fled outright into the park, keeping my eyes firmly on the ground.

Leaving the path, I hurried through the park, not really aware of where I was going as long as it was quieter and emptier. I reached a dim copse free of children, tourists, and lovers, where I sat down, and let the tears flow.

It’s easy to see why the ancient Egyptians thought that the heart, and not the brain, was the source of love. True sadness isn’t felt in the head, it’s felt in the chest, and I could feel every choked beat of my heart as I sobbed and gasped and tried to catch my breath for what seemed like ages. But from a pragmatic point of view, I’m sure I didn’t go for long. Crying is too tiring to keep up for much time. Of course, I had come out without any tissues, so I wiped my aching eyes and puffy face on the corner of my cardigan.

At that moment, the hawker walked into the copse.

“There you are!” she called out, “Wondered where you’d got to!”

I sighed. “Look,” I said, “I’m sorry about knocking into you. It was an accident. If I’ve damaged anything I will be happy to pay-“

“Na, na, love. Just a load of rubbish. Can’t hurt it if it isn’t worth anything to start with. But I saw your face and thought you might be in some trouble.” The woman was elderly, with a mop of dyed auburn hair and a thick Docklands accent which I would love to render in text, if it didn’t look so silly. But her blue eyes were kind, and she handed me a miniature water bottle marked with “Souvenir of Hyde Park.”

“I’m – fine. I just got a little upset. Thank you.” The water was lukewarm and tasted faintly of plasticizers, but it soothed my irritated throat.

The woman seemed to take this remark as an invitation, and placing her wares on the grass, sat next to me. I have lived in London since I was twenty-five years old and I could tell what was coming. There are two main personality types among the English: the type that is intensely uncomfortable with any sort of emotion, and the type that delights in every possible expression of sentiment and wishes to hear all about it. They’re like New Yorkers in that respect.

Apparently I had found one of the latter variant.

“You get to see a bit of everything, my line of work,” she said, digging a battered packet of Silk Cut out of her pocket, “Care for one?”

I had officially quit smoking years ago, when I finished my doctorate, and stopped even having the occasional one when I started dating John, since he loathed the things. Just at that moment, though, it sounded like heaven. “Yes, thank you.”

She shook two out of the packet, and passed one to me before getting out a transparent plastic lighter. She lit hers, and then handed over the lighter. A brief breeze kicked up, and I bowed my head over the tiny flame, trying to make the cigarette catch, as she said, quietly, “Now, Mary, you need to remain calm.”

The cigarette caught, and I took that first delicious, poisonous drag, before the fact that this stranger knew my name really filtered into my mind.

I looked over, and where the woman had been, sat Sherlock Holmes.

The Sign of Four (Sherlock)

The art of disguise, as I have often remarked, is in context far more than it is in costume. Truly approximating the appearance of someone else is only possible from a distance: in ordinary situations major alterations to the face appear theatrical and attract more attention than not. If, instead, you select a character who would be entirely appropriate in the context in which he appears, you need make only minor changes to your own appearance. The observer’s mind will then do ninety per cent of your work and you will be de facto invisible. I intend to write a monograph on the topic when I have the time.

Mary Morstan may have had some subconscious understanding of this. On the occasion of our first meeting, I observed that she was wearing a carefully calibrated disguise, although I doubt she would have referred to it as such. Very high heels, but an intentionally prim and boxy suit, severe makeup and hairstyle, heavy-framed glasses. She introduced herself with a flat, middle-American accent, only slightly sharpened by years of living in London.

Just after she arrived, John walked into the flat, his arms filled with carrier bags of groceries, which he set down with great rapidity in order to shake her hand.

“Mary Morstan, my associate, John Watson. Miss Morstan,” I said, “Teaches maths at Westminster School.”

She stared at me when I said that. John, I noted, didn’t let go of her hand when her attention was distracted.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

I sighed, though in truth I always enjoy it when they ask for the reasoning.

“You’ve obviously come straight from work, meaning that you work Saturday mornings. Chalk dust on the right cuff, which is worn in a way that you only ever see with people who spend a great deal of time writing on blackboards. There are traces of red ink on the heel of your hand and a splotch near the tip of your index finger. Thus, teacher.”

As I’d expected, she dropped John’s hand to examine her own.

“You took the tube to get here, and in those shoes you probably didn’t walk far before you boarded at Westminster station: there’s construction digging up the street there and the fresh splashes of yellowish mud on your left stocking are quite distinctive. Half a dozen schools in that area, but your ensemble suggests older students and moneyed parents. Hence, Westminster School.”

The last was a gloss, as her ensemble suggested nothing of the sort. It said quite plainly “I teach older boys.” Her skirt was unfashionably long, her blouse was buttoned up to the neck, and her jacket was boxy in order to conceal her rather large breasts. Having attended an all-boys senior school, I recognized the style, and the motivation behind it. But since I was undoubtedly going to receive the ”abrasive” and “show-off” lectures after her departure, I saw no reason to add the “inappropriate” one, and simplified the matter.

“And… maths?”

I sighed again, this time sincerely. The easy ones are never any fun.

“There’s a graphics calculator in the right pocket of your overcoat.”

At that, she laughed. Giggled, really. But almost instantly, she caught herself, cleared her throat, and dropped back into the lower vocal register that she had previously affected. Everything I could ever have wished to know about Mary Morstan’s character was thus revealed in the first five minutes of our interview. Nature had given her a respectable brain and deposited it in a body that was small, blonde, and rather fluffy. Her disguise did a reasonable job of concealing this, but she would spend the rest of her life trying to make people take her seriously.

“That’s amazing,” she said, “I read in your blog, Doctor Watson-“

“John, please,” he interrupted. Oh dear.

“John. I read about this kind of analysis but it’s remarkable to see it in real life.”

“Can be a bit creepy if you’re not used to it, though,” John replied, which I thought extremely unfair, given that I had been very polite and not mentioned that her teeth demonstrated her adolescent bulimia or that her fingers and eyebrows strongly implied a mild obsessive-compulsive condition. I maintained my dignity, and said only,

“Thank you, John. State your case, Miss Morstan.”

“Right. Well. I suppose I have to go back to the beginning. My father, Thomas Morstan, was English. I was actually born in Sussex, but when I was two my parents divorced and my mother and I moved back to America. I never got to see him much, growing up, but he always kept in touch, by phone and letters, and then by email when that came around. Sent birthday gifts and that sort of thing. Ten years ago I finished grad school, and he offered to buy me a ticket to come and meet him in London. I hadn’t seen him for several years at that point and I didn’t have a job so, obviously, I said yes.”

“Mmm. Continue.”

“He’d booked us rooms at the Langham, which I thought was much too expensive for him, but he said it was a treat for my graduation.”

“What was his profession, then?”

“He started off in the Army, but he resigned his commission after the first Gulf War and joined the diplomatic service.”

“As?”

“An attaché. Just an office job, basically. Visas and helping distressed tourists and so on.”

“And his rank in the army?”

“Ah, he ended as a Lieutenant Colonel, I believe.

“Go on.”

“I flew to London, expecting him to pick me up at Heathrow, but he wasn’t there. No answer when I tried to call him. I took a cab to the Langham and asked if he’d checked in, and he had, but there was no answer when they called up to his room. Eventually they agreed to open the door – he’d had a heart attack a few years before, and I was getting very upset - and all of his things were in there, but no sign of him. I never saw him again.”

“Interesting. Did the police investigate?” John was patting her shoulder, sympathetically, which seemed excessive given that the death (and yes, it was death, almost certainly) was ten years in the past. She should have been well beyond it by this point. But upon closer observation, I could see that he was right: a slight swimminess around the eyes and the set of the jawbone indicating gritted teeth. Oedipal complex. She replied, calmly enough.

“Yes. They didn’t find anything.”

“Of course they didn’t. They never do. Did your father have any acquaintances in London?”

“Only one that they could find: a Major Sholto. He had no idea Dad was even in town.”

“Mmm. I doubt a disappearance ten years ago would incline you to seek the services of a consulting detective today. What has changed?”

Morstan cleared her throat and opened the battered leather attache case that had been sitting at her feet. From a manila folder, she removed a broadsheet page of yellowing newsprint, with a quarter-page sized advertisement in the upper right hand corner circled in red ink. The paper was the Omaha World-Herald, the date was May 4, 2004, and the advertisement simply stated:

“If Mary Morstan, daughter of Captain Thomas Morstan, will contact the address below, it will be to her advantage” followed by an email address.

“Half a dozen of my friends from high school saw this and forwarded it on to me.”

“And what did you do?”

“I sent them an email. I said I was Thomas Morstan’s daughter, that I’d relocated to London, and asked what they wanted.”

“Any reply?”

“No. And when I sent on a follow-up a few days later, it bounced. It was just Hotmail… could have been anyone. But then a few days after that, I received this in the mail.”

Reaching back into the attaché case, she pulled out a small pouch made of black jeweler’s felt. Loosening the drawstring, she tipped something small and square into her palm, and passed it over to me.

I could hear John inhale sharply through is teeth as I reached for my lens. Mary said, wryly, “Yes, that’s pretty much how I felt. It’s a three carat, blue-white, flawless diamond. Probably dug up in India, if that’s any help. It’s worth around $150,000, retail.”

“Unusual cut,” I murmured, looking at the magnified lump of crystallized charcoal, “It’s called the-“

“The old mine cut,” interrupted Mary, “Meaning it was most likely faceted sometime between 1700 and 1900. I know. After the police gave it back to me, I had it appraised at Sotheby’s.”

“You went to the police again?”

“I did.”

“Any good?”

“Not really. They hung onto it a while, but nobody reported any similar gems lost or stolen, and then they gave it back. Apparently it’s “not illegal to be given things.” So after that I was on my own. But I still didn’t feel right about it, so I had the appraisal to see if a real professional could find anything more useful.”

“Well done,” said John, heartily. He was in a fair way to make an idiot of himself over this woman, although she seemed flattered by the compliment.

“Thank you,” Mary replied, “And then, the thing is, Mr. Holmes, that it didn’t stop with this. Every year since then, on May 14, I get another one of these in my mail. I’ve changed addresses and it didn’t make a difference. Perfectly matched, very expensive diamonds. I left the rest of them in my safe deposit box: even carrying one of them around makes me edgy. And then, yesterday, there was this.”

She passed over a letter. Fine, high linen content paper, no watermark, 10-point… Trebuchet font, printed on an HP laserjet printer. It read, “Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum Theatre on Saturday, July 9 at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful, bring two friends. You are a wronged woman, and shall have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.”

There was no signature or address.

“Did you keep the envelope?”

“Yes, here. And here,” she said, passing over a small heap of padded mailers sealed into plastic zip-topped bags, “Are the envelopes the diamonds came in.”

“Well, you do have the right instincts. Not much to see here, though… the letter and the last three packages had their labels off the same printer. The first four were from another. It stretches credulity to think that there are separate groups doing this so we’ll assume for the moment it was simply a matter of replacing an outdated device. The mailers can be bought anywhere. Various London postmarks… thumbprint on this one, Miss Morstan, may I see your right hand please? Thank you. Your thumbprint. I’ll put them under the microscope later but I doubt there’ll be that much to learn.”

“And you’ve no idea at all who may have sent these? No… admirers, things like that?” John asked.

She laughed at that. “Generally, when men are interested in me they go more for things like asking me to dinner rather than anonymously sending me a million dollars in gems over the course of seven years. I’m not that unapproachable.” I rolled my eyes at their stale flirtation, although I don’t believe either of them noticed it.

“But…” she continued, more hesitantly, “Mr. Holmes, do you think that there’s any possibility that these are from my father?”

John was glaring at me, and so instead of saying “Of course not. He’s been dead for ten years,” replied “I’m afraid it’s very unlikely.”

“I see,” Mary replied, quietly. She drew a deep breath and continued, “Well, regardless, I had planned to go… unless you can give me a real reason not to. If whoever it is wants to hurt me it seems like they’ve chosen a really baroque way of going about it. I mean, they already know where I live so it’s not like there’s much point in avoiding them. And I’m getting sick of this mystery.”

“There are, however, a few points of interest in it. As you are allowed to bring two friends and John is already planning on accompanying you, I believe I shall join him.”

She darted her gaze back and forth between us, smiling, “Really? You will? Both of you? Oh, thank you, thank you so much! This whole saga has just been so shady and I didn’t know anyone who’d be any help with this kind of thing. It’s such a weight off my mind. Thank you.”

She was gushing, and her voice had inevitably pitched up again. I responded calmly with, “Yes, well. Can you be here by five thirty on Saturday? And leave us your contact information.”

“Of course!”

And, writing an email address and a phone number on a sheet of scrap paper, she disappeared in a whirl of gratitude.

John rose to escort her to the door. I remained seated, and began texting.

“That, he said, picking up his carrier bags and taking them into the kitchen, “Was a very attractive woman.”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Really. I knew you were a human adding machine but I never thought you were actually dead. Sherlock, it’s an objective fact! She’s got a beautiful smile.”

“Very short.”

“Oh, come on. She’s an inch or two shorter than I am.”

While this statement would not actually exclude “short” from consideration, I simply raised my eyebrows and replied, “Women have developed this remarkable technology called shoes which they use when they wish to increase their height, John. She’s no more than five feet tall.”

“Yes, well, shortness is not a handicap, Sherlock. And she’s clever.”

“She’s adequate.”

“And brave. She was going to walk by herself into a threatening situation just because she wanted to find out the truth.”

“So are you. So am I, for that matter. I fail to see why it’s so much more meritorious when it’s her doing it.”

“I’m a combat-trained military reservist, and you are England’s only consulting detective. It’s our job. She’s a very small maths teacher.”

I set down the mobile and glared at him, “Mary Morstan, John, is in no need of your protection. This affair of the diamonds is a mere personal intrigue. She’ll meet with the woman and resolve it without the benefit of your attention.”

He paused from putting the potatoes in the bin and inquired, “It’s a woman sending the diamonds? You’re sure?”

In general, I don’t admit which of my deductions I’m certain of and which are (very good) guesses. Maintaining a reputation as infallible isn’t a trivial exercise. But John had repeatedly earned the truth from me, and so I said, “No, I’m not. I’m reasonably confident, given the font choice, the computer used, and the wording, that it’s a woman, and a rather melodramatic one. But there’s more – uncertainty in these things than I would like.”

John chuckled. “I should take a picture of you right now and call it ‘Sherlock Holmes admitting he might be wrong’. They’d love to have it down at the Yard. So why take the case if you don’t think there’s any mystery?”

“Oh, there is one, just not the “why is someone sending me expensive gemstones” one she came in with. Can you log on to the GRO database and look something up for me? My email address and password will get you in.”

“Sure,” he said, walking back into the sitting room and picking up his laptop, “What?”

“Deaths. Start by looking for “Sholto” in late April, early May of 2005. If that doesn’t bring up anything, look for ex-military, older, in London, same time frame.”

“Right. What are you going to do?”

I held up my mobile. “I’ve done it. I’ve sent a text to brother Mycroft.”

“Why?”

“Watson, when a man leaves a high rank role in the army to become a low-end functionary in the diplomatic service, what does that suggest?”

“Er, PTSD?”

“No. It suggests spy. I want to find out exactly what Thomas Morstan did for a living.”

A week after that, Mary Morstan arrived punctually back at Baker Street. She’d replaced the dowdy suit with trousers and a blue blouse cut low in the front, left off her glasses, and undone her severe bun to let her hair hang over her shoulders. She had chosen flat shoes this time, which was a relief, as it showed the target of all this display was John rather than me.

Six hours after that, I saw that the display had been successful. I had to physically restrain John from going to her as she was handcuffed and loaded into a black maria for the murder of Barbara Sholto. As typical of Americans, she was explaining loudly and slowly to the arresting officer that there had been a terrible misunderstanding, clearly expecting this to rectify the situation.

“John, look,” I said, sotto voce, as I pinned him to the wall of the alley, “If you go over there you’ll only be arrested too. Athelney Jones has already picked up the entire domestic staff and Theresa Sholto and would be only too happy to increase his bag. The man’s an idiot, even by the standards of the metropolitan police. We’ll text Lestrade to let him know, and the worst she’ll have is a few uncomfortable hours, but we need to be on our way if we’re going to actually catch the killer which is the only thing that will do her any good.”

Even that early, I suspected that Mary would not be as swiftly forgotten as the rest of the girlfriends.

Three days later, Mary was a free woman again. The lost crown jewels of the Russian Tsars, of which she had been offered a one-third share, were scattered along six miles of the bottom of the Thames. She had accepted this development with equanimity. As she said to John, “Even if they hadn’t been lost, it’s not like I was expecting to keep them. I’m sure there’s still some Romanovs somewhere who’d like to have them back. The whole time Teresa was telling me the story of how she got them I kept thinking “Yeah, this kind of stuff doesn’t happen in real life.””

I heard, while they were falling in love, enough of “The Things Mary Says” to gag a cat. I heard about Mary’s feelings on politics, the arts, and current events. I heard about Mary’s emotional turmoil on the discovery that her father was an intelligence agent who had taken the pay of so many competing nations and organizations that even now nobody could say who he had really worked for. And that was apart from his being a jewel thief. I heard enough recitations of her personal charm, intelligence, and integrity to gag a dog.

Not being enamored of her, I was able to observe her far more clearly. I saw that she omitted to mention during the investigation that she was already in receipt of seven perfectly-matched flawless three carat blue-white diamonds, pulled from a coronet made for some forgotten Tsarina. I saw no reason to bring it up to anyone, if she had overcome her scruples about receiving stolen property. I would rather the money have gone to John than to anyone else, and it was clear by that point that it would.

Over the next months, Mary incorporated herself into John’s life, and thus, into mine. I grew accustomed to the scent of her cosmetics in the flat’s shared w.c. (she was a disgustingly early riser and had usually gone before I woke up), and the sounds of their post-sex conversation from the upstairs bedroom (they kept the actual lovemaking quiet, out of politeness, but the after-chat was quite distinct). I drew the line, however, at allowing her to tidy the place. She didn’t understand the system and would have made a hash of it.

Ultimately, just over six months after the day she rang the bell at Baker Street, I found myself ordering a round of tequila shots at the bar of the White Lion and slipping chloral hydrate into three of them. Earlier, Mary had balanced on tiptoe to kiss my cheek and whisper in my ear “Can you please try not to let them get him too drunk?” I carried the round back to the table where a flushed and grinning but not yet weaving Watson listened as a dozen of his Army and medical school friends speculated on whether Mary would qualify him as “Four-Continents Watson” or if the actual location of the coitus mattered more than the origin of the lady in question. I passed the shot glasses around, judging that the administration of three Mickey Finns to three particular members of the party would bring the night to a graceful but early end in about an hour.

I judged, as usual, correctly. After decanting the three dazed ringleaders into a cab, the party broke up, and John and I made it back to Baker Street with only slightly more difficulty than usual. The stairs did give him some trouble, but ultimately I was able to successfully deposit him on the couch. I shook two aspirin from the bottle and handed them to him along with a glass of water. He took both uncomplainingly.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. For whatever you did back there. I’d hate to be a mess tomorrow.”

“I looked up the duties of the best man and apparently making sure the groom is present and presentable are tops on the list.”

“And you even agreed to wear a tie!” This non sequitur amused him, and he chuckled at his own joke for a moment, before sobering (comparatively), and staring around the flat. “I’m going to miss all this.”

“No, you won’t,” I predicted, climbing the stairs to fetch the blankets off his bed.

“I will!” he insisted, “I’m happy, really happy, about Mary. She’s wonnerful. But I’ll miss this life. And you.”

“It’s not as though I’ll be dead. You’ll be ten minutes away. I’ll be sure to call you whenever I need my cases blogged.”

“I love you, mate, you know that? Even though you are- just such a prick.”

I smiled and pitched the blankets at his head. “I do. Tosser. Now go to sleep. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

He was out and snoring, wearing everything but his shoes, five minutes later. I refilled his water glass and left it on the end table.

At noon the next day I (wearing not only a tie but my entire morning suit) stood at John’s left shoulder and watched Mary Morstan walk down the aisle. I doubt she saw me: her eyes were fixed on John, who was sober, alert, and in full dress uniform, as requested. The expression of love and joy on her face obliged me to concede that, at the moment, she was in fact a very attractive woman.

I don’t think I could have given him up to anyone who loved him even a bit less.

At the reception I gave a speech which everyone said was very interesting, and drank one and a half glasses of inferior Prosecco. I watched them cut the cake, noting that the new Mrs. Watson was far more comfortable with John’s ceremonial saber than he was. She’d lost the callosities of the dedicated fencer, but the skill remained. Then, as Molly Hooper was prowling around with an eye towards dancing and my actual duties were complete, I slipped out of the hall and walked back to Baker Street.

I stopped in at the chemists and bought a packet of cigarettes, then let myself into the flat. There was a peculiar sensory illusion that it was larger and emptier than normal: nonsense, of course. John was routinely absent when I was there. The fact that the absence would now be permanent didn’t alter the actual physical size of the place.

There was always work, and heedless of my dress clothes, I went to it. Three months later, I “died.” And three years after that, I returned to a London which seemed larger and emptier than I recalled. Sensory illusion again. The softer emotions have a very negative impact upon accurate observation, and the world in general doesn’t change at all when a single person drops out of it. On an individual level, though, a single death can rip the bottom out of everything. Such was the case with Mary Watson, who I encountered on a bright August day in Park Lane. She’d lost a stone in weight, which was significant at her height, and was wearing an oversized camel-colored cardigan which I recognized with a pang as being one of Watson’s. She had, in general, the appearance of a child’s toy where the stuffing had been pulled out. I approached her, unseen, as her attention was on Ronald Adair’s flat. When she lost her composure and fled, I hesitated. Then I followed. There were two reasons for this. The first, as always, was John. I couldn’t envision a situation where he would not have come to the aid of a crying woman. In the particular case of Mary, he’d have sprinted to it.

As for the second, well… On the occasion of the case of Neville St. Claire, John had said to me that, “People in trouble come to my wife like birds to a light-house.”

And I truly had nowhere else to go. Chapter 3: The Death of Ronald Adair (Mary)

In general, I am not a fainter, and I didn’t faint then. But a grey mist swirled in front of my eyes, and when it subsided I noticed I had dropped the cigarette onto the well-clipped Hyde Park grass. I picked it up with numb, nerveless fingers. With my other hand I reached out to Sherlock and pushed on the flesh of his bicep. He was reassuringly solid.

“So I haven’t gone mad.”

“No.”

“Not dead, then?”

“Yes.”

I took a drag from the Silk Cut and asked, “Does anyone else know besides me?”

“Mycroft.”

“Of course.”

“And Molly Hooper.”

“That bitch!” I exclaimed, before I could stop myself. I wouldn’t quite have called Molly a friend. We didn’t see much of one another, but her quiet competence had gotten me through the hellscape of the funeral. I found it startlingly painful to believe that she had been concealing a secret like this- especially from John.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “You’re harsher on her than on Mycroft?”

“There is nothing that I would put past one of the Holmes boys.”

He sighed, and drew on his own cigarette. The sun dipped below the treetops and set us into shadows.

“Sherlock,” I asked, eventually, “What do you want?”

“I need a gun.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Of course you do.”

“Mary, please-“ and he hesitated. He and I had never been more than “friendly”, and he certainly had never been inclined to ask any favors of me.

“You’re still in trouble, aren’t you?” I accused.

He hesitated again.

“Yes.”

“Right,” I said, brushing off my pants and rising, “We’ll talk. Baker Street, or our place? My place.”

“Baker Street is being watched.”

“Can we take a cab?”

“Probably.”

It was actually very impressive, how he collapsed his face into that of the Cockney souvenir hawker. He even seemed to lose several inches in height. The stage lost an excellent actor when he decided to go into detective work.

We walked in silence back to Park Lane, and took a cab (after he’d dismissed the first one that tried to stop). He sat next to me in silence, until a horrible thought overtook me, and I said, “Oh, God, has anyone told you? About-“

“Your… bereavement? Yes. I was… very sorry to hear of it.”

It was a relief. It had already happened several times: some colleague or acquaintance who I hadn’t seen in a while would, in the course of ordinary chit-chat, drop, “Oh, and how’s John doing?” into the conversation. And then I would have to watch their faces change from polite disinterest to horror and pity as I gave them the news. I would say it was the worst thing I had to do, but I had developed an entire new suite of worst things in recent months and was somewhat spoiled for choice.

We didn’t speak any further until I let us into the flat.

“Have a seat. I’ll just go get it.”

John, given that he was occasionally prone to physically violent nightmares, had always kept the Sig Sauer semi-automatic securely locked away in a box in the master bedroom closet. I retrieved it, and returned to the living room. Sherlock had installed himself in his old favorite spot on the sofa, and Arthur had climbed onto the arm next to him. They were watching each other with matching expressions of flat-eyed distaste.

“I don’t know where the key is,” I said, passing the box over.

“It’s fine,” he replied. And indeed, he materialized a lockpick from somewhere and opened it within ten seconds.

He’d removed his auburn wig, although he still had on an excellent shade of lipstick for his complexion: a glossy transparent berry-stain. It was almost the only color on his face. Whatever he’d been up to, it was doing no favors for his health. I wouldn’t have thought he could have gotten thinner or paler, barring his contracting tuberculosis or vampirism. And yet, he had managed. At some point, he’d cut his hair off close to the scalp, and it was faintly peppered with grey. Sherlock was a year or two younger than I, but at the moment I could see what he would be like as an old man.

“You know that thing’s illegal, right?” I said.

“It’s not something that’s a real concern just at the moment,” he returned, calmly.

“It should probably be cleaned. It’s not been touched since… well, I’m not sure of the last time John cleaned it.”

“It will be fine. They’re very simple instruments and Watson was always over-cautious. I didn’t clean my old one for years and it never had any problems.”

“That’s because John would secretly do it for you every few months.”

One of the small pleasures in life that everyone should get to experience at least once is to watch Sherlock Holmes’ face when he is informed that one of the normals has gotten something past him. I had to suppress a flicker of a smile at how thunderous he looked.

“Look,” I said, “Give it here and I’ll do it. The cleaning kit’s on the top shelf above the stove in the kitchen, if you’ll reach it down for me.”

I could hear him rummaging around in the cabinet as I released the clip, disconnected the slide, and popped out the spring. I laid everything down on the coffee table and accepted the kit when he returned and gave it to me. When I sighted down the barrel, I could see ample dust, and a fair bit of corrosion from the soggy English atmosphere. It only made sense, really. When Sherlock had died, John had lost any professional reason to carry a gun, and gained a strong personal reason to lock it away and leave it to rust. Dipping the cleaning swab into the wide-mouthed jar of solvent, I began passing it through the barrel.

“’In a self-defense situation, there will be many things you can’t control. The condition of your weapon is not one of them,’” I quoted.

“Did Watson say that?”

“No, though he’d have agreed with the sentiment. That was my stepfather. He was the one who taught me about shooting.”

Sherlock blinked at me. “I didn’t know you had a stepfather.”

“Like everyone else, I do actually have an objective existence apart from the parts you find interesting, Sherlock.”

I sounded bitter, but I didn’t care. I had been the one to put John back together after Sherlock’s quote-unquote death, and having him sitting calmly on my sofa irked.

“I only meant,” he replied, “That he wasn’t at your wedding.”

“He has congestive heart failure and travel is very difficult for him!” I snapped,

“Sherlock, why the hell did you do this?”

“Well, I had in fact been exposed as a fraud and-“

“Bullshit. You have been more or less cleared for two years and I’m sure your brother told you that. D.I. Lestrade had to demonstrate that you weren’t, in general, a criminal, because he wanted to keep his job. Fifty people, including me, by the by, came forward to tell stories of how you had solved cases that you couldn’t possibly have faked. The only real mystery remaining is this whole affair with Richard Brook, and frankly the best person to justify that would have been you.”

He scrubbed his hands through the bristles of his hair. “There was more.”

“So tell me.”

Sherlock sighed, and stared off into the space over my left shoulder. “When the head of an organization is removed, the organization generally remains. John Kennedy is shot, the United States persists. The death of Jim Moriarty left a thriving multinational criminal organization with a vacancy at the top for which there were numerous keen candidates. I have spent the last three years attempting to take advantage of this situation and dismantle its operations entirely.”

Something about the cold way he said “dismantle” made me think I really didn’t want to hear much about this process. I asked, “And you couldn’t have done that in your own persona?”

“No. Because- Moriarty was in many ways a remarkable man.”

The tone of this statement was pure admiration, and I rubbed my forehead where I could feel the old familiar “Sherlock” headache coming on. “How’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t want to say he founded a cult of personality, but in his immediate circle were several men who genuinely did admire him and support him in his goals, as opposed to the ordinary hangers-on who simply were in it for the profit.”

“So, his friends.”

“What?”

I sighed. “Never mind. Continue.”

#quarto's fics #warstan #Sherlock&Mary #major character death #Mary morstan #mary morstanning #ACD Mary in BBC Sherlock #which used to be a thing

1 note · View note

bittertoastmarket · 5 years

Text

Okay! I was tagged by the amazing @a-death-like-icarus to throw up some cover art and talk about my fave music. I honestly listen to mostly playlists that I've made so I tried to lay out albums I grew up with or enjoy every song of, but this was way hard lol.

(Forgive the format I am on moble)

You're Awful, I Love You by Ludo: This was the first band I ever saw at Warped Tour which was my first concert! I genuinely love this albumn and love that half the songs are love songs and the rest are huge fuck yous with ukulele solos. My first tattoo were song lyrics from their song Topeka.

Lest We Forget The Best Of by Marilyn Manson: I actually originally got this album in secret as a young teen because my mom was very anti Marilyn Manson. I was so paranoid about her finding it that I recorded it over to A MIX TAPE I SHIT YOU NOT that started with 3 Days Grace so she wouldn't find it. It was so worth it to me at the time.

Discovering The Waterfront by Silverstein: This album single handedly got me out of a really abusive and horrible relationship. Sounds stupid but i was really lovedrunk about the guy but I couldn't figure out why I was so unhappy. The song that holds the album name has a part that goes like this: Pretend it's not forever, I'll pull myself together I'll say that I'll forget her, I'll breathe. And I'll say she never hurt me, And look at it as learning, And laugh about the good and the bad. Because I won't live forever We don't belong together, I know I'll feel better, One day when I can make it through.

It helped me realize that losing love I thought I wanted was okay because he was awful for me and wouldn't change but one day without him I would be fine. Just needed that shove.

A.M. by Arctic Monkeys: this almost didn't make the list because I wanted to put What Seperates Me From You by A Day To Remember, but this album was my driving soundtrack back when I was in a really low place after said bad break up. I would just aimlessly drive around Boise, Meridian and Kuna just trying to run away from how I felt but I would always end up in Swan Falls watching the sun set while listening to this albumn. Very good for my dramatic ass.

This is when shit gets fun!

One Of Us by Mystery Skulls: I actually loved his first albumn a lot but this is the one I got to see him in concert for first. My boyfriend showed me his music, somehow I missed the Ghost music video that everyone loves, and when we saw him live I realized he was traveling with his childhood bff and his girlfriend. Both of whom are also in good bands and you get a really nice comradery vibe from their live shows. I followed them to two concerts this year. It was dope af.

UNDERTALE Soundtrack by Toby Fox: Alright, I know almost everyone loves UNDERTALE, and for good reason, but something about Toby Fox and his amazing music talent really resonated with me. He has become a really big inspiration for me and I ended up loving his characters so much I got a Flowey tattoo. Mostly to remind myself that there are multiple paths in life and sometimes even the most well meaning of characters can become soured by their own greed and misery but everyone deserves another chance and can grow up and see how they have negatively impacted those around them. Plus its a poppin album that makes my anxiety melt away. If DELTA RUNE had been longer I would have chosen that one because it's going to be something fantastic I can feel it lol

Studio Killers: Alright, if you haven't heard Ode to a Bouncer, fuck off right now and go listen. This whole album is amazing and I just recently found out that its four people and an animator who makes all their vlogs and MV and shit. Which is really fucking cool because they produce almost all of their own shit. I like that they're set up like the Gorillaz where the band is actually created personas. And their personas are hilarious.

A Break by Phangs: okay so Phangs is the childhood bff of Mystery Skulls and he as a person is really fucking amazing. I got to meet him at the last concert and his music reminds me of the one scene from George Of The Jungle where George is dancing with his lady and its all romantic and airy feeling. It's pretty chill music, you can tell live that he has a lot of passion for what he does and even tho the album is hella short the two bangers on it are legit. I also got to see him do a cover of Eye to Eye from The Goofy Movie so you know he's a feel good artist.

And lastly Pop Food by Jack Stauber: I like just found his music through my weird ability to make obscure playlists on GooglePlay. Honestly it's just hella chill and Oh Klahoma gets stuck in my head so fucking bad but in a good way. This album led me to a lot of Synthwave I ended up enjoying a lot but as a whole album I had to go with this one.

#me #personal #jack stauber #marilyn manson #ludo #phangs #mystery skulls #Silverstein #UNDERTALE #Toby Fox #Studio Killers #arctic monkeys #my music #music

32 notes · View notes

catullus-the-author · 4 years

Text

“At Some Point, Gold is as Good as Mold”

“Wally! What do ya’ see?”

Grimacing against the harsh light of the scouting drones overhead, Wally turned to yell back at his friend. “A cave! But it looks pretty small. Might not be useful.” Wally’s friend, Daniel, jogged up to his side. He squinted down at the hole in the side of the cliff.

“Oh shoot, that rock looks mighty softened from all this water beatin’ up on it. We’ll be able to dig it out bigger,” Daniel exclaimed. “I’ll call the Bulldozers in.” Daniel pressed a series of buttons on the bright blue band wrapped around his wrist. “Should be here in about five minutes.”

“Cool,” Wally replied.

The silent drones overhead began descending, shooting out projectiles that sprayed bright red ‘X’s’ on the cliff face. Wally followed Daniel back to the Operations Mobile Home. (OMH)

“I bet we’ll get at least 300 points for findin’ this. Wouldn’t that be somethin’? I could upgrade to an Air Home with those points,” Daniel sighed. Wally nodded in agreement. “What abouchyou? What are you gonna do with those points?”

Wally thoughtful rubbed his chin. “I might get myself a new Transportation Drone.”

“Ooh, nice thinkin.’ You should get the RX-tevel 104. I hear it’s got a wicked time-jump engine.”

Wally smiled, replying, “I just might.”

Suddenly, there was a rumble underfoot. “Ah, they came early,” Daniel exclaimed gleefully as two hulking, titan-like machines stepped across the treeless land, past the OMH, and straight down by the cliff face. Their monstrous heads stood well over the edge of the cliff. With lit up eyes, the Bulldozers went to work, scraping the cave away bit by bit with massive metal hands.

Daniel whistled with pride. “These two were worth those 175 points, I’ll tell ya’.”

“Absolutely,” Wally agreed, his eyes never straying from the methodical motions of the Bulldozers. What would have taken human hands years to even make a dent in was quickly washed away by the salty water below thanks to the gargantuan machines. The rock scraped off like it was a cake.

“Welp, imma get some shut-eye. They should be done in the mornin’. You comin’?”

Wally nodded, following Daniel into the OMH’s living space.

Sweet, lullaby music filtered through the speakers of Wally’s bedroom as he tucked himself into the warm, fuzzy covers. The grinding of the Bulldozer’s work never reached his ears as he slumbered.

***

It was horrible. The monsters outside pulled away our shelter so quickly, we barely had time to hide. We delved deeper into the cave, my sister and I. The walls vibrated nonstop. We could feel our Mother’s agony in our bones every time more rock was destroyed. My sister shed golden tears, for she felt our Mother’s pain far greater than I did. I, however, heard the howl of my Father’s grief as those Man-made goliaths hurt her. I wanted to destroy them, but that would be fruitless. My fire could not melt the artificial metal the human’s made. Even as I thought this, my Father and Mother begged me to take my sister far away. So, I did.

***

Wally awoke to the enticing smell of bacon, eggs, and waffles. A steaming plate sat on his bedside table. He dove in immediately. At his will, a faucet of sorts emerged from the wall, and gave him a thick syrup to drown his waffles in.

He heard Daniel’s voice through the speakers. “Rise and shine! We gotta cave to explore!”

Finishing up his meal, Wally jogged outside. The Bulldozers had left, but the fruits of their labor were amazing. A great bowl had been carved out of the cave, exposing its innards. Stalactites of all sizes hung from the cave’s ceiling.

“Wow,” Wally breathed with awe. Surprising him, Daniel clapped Wally on the back.

“Wow is right my friend. Now, let’s hop in those suits I was tellin’ ya about.”

Soon enough, Wally and Daniel were at the enlarged mouth of the cave, decked out in the latest adventurer's body suit. The suits tightly gripped soles allowed them to walk over the ever-rocky floor. An enhanced vision gadget on the suit’s visors let them see every edge of the cave in startling clarity. They could count every small bump on a single stalactite, if they wanted to.

“Hey Wally!”

“Gah! I can hear you in the suit just fine if you talk normally,” Wally replied, hoping his ears didn’t begin ringing.

“Sorry, but come over where I am. I think this cave goes a lot deeper.”

Wally joined his friend as he looked down a tunnel-like hole. “It looks like it was purposefully carved out this way,” Wally noted, seeing the ruts where it looked like unnatural cuts in the rock.

“Let’s go down!” Daniel hooted. He promptly began to bound down the tunnel. Wally followed him.

The tunnel went straight down in a smooth decline, yet at some point it began to twist and turn. Seemingly erratically. There were many high ledges, yet Wally and Daniel had no trouble grappling over them to further explore the long, rock-walled tunnel.

“My goodness. This is going on forever,” Daniel noted.

“Yeah, but it has to end sometime. We got all the time in the world to keep going,” Wally replied, excitement growing within him. “I wonder if we’ll find anything,” he asked himself aloud.

***

Our blissful sleep was so quickly halted. Harsh Man-made light filled the haven we had barely had time in. My sister growled with fear and anger, and I joined her. The Men gave their own shouts as they inspected us. One of them looked so incredibly gleeful, however the other seemed to back up, inch by inch. I felt their aura’s. I saw the glow of blood-red cover the gleeful one. The other one began cowering as I stood up to my full height on my hind legs. I gave a ferocious roar. It did not scare them off, but the one backing up seemed to curl in on himself. His light-yellow aura flickered from dim to bright. This one’s spirit was cracking. My eyes blazed a brilliant gold. The golden flames revealed the intangible versions of both men. My sister was screaming behind me, trying to get rid of them. The yellow glowing one’s spiritual heart and mind beckoned me. I dove into this Man, without ever moving my tangible body. Now he really cowered. He surely felt my immense power. I heard my sister yelp with pain. My golden eyes sunk back into my skull. I turned, seeing my sister stumbling to the ground. A terrible prick stabbed at my arm. Drowsiness immediately overtook me. I heard the yellow-man's inner thoughts as slumber forced me to still. I had made a connection.

***

“We are going to be sooooo rich!” Daniel squealed with joy. Wally clutched his head. A terrible headache had come over him when that creature seemed to stare right into his very eyes. He coughed. Icky bile, mingled with some blood, slipped out of his mouth. He heard Daniel’s excited speech through a wall of pain.

“Good thing there was enough stun-numb juice in this suit for both of them. Honestly, I’m surprised it even punctured their skin. Look at how thick these scales look!” Wally saw Daniel making his way over to the colossal beasts. “Hoowee! Come help me get pictures of these beauts to send to the OMH.”

“Sure . . . sure thing,” Wally rasped. “I just . . . need some rest.” Wally groaned as he took a step forward. Daniel turned back to his friend.

“Dude, ya’ okay?”

Wally groaned again as a hammer of fire pressed down on the crown of his head.

“Ya’ need some meds?”

“Ye . . . yes,” Wally stuttered.

Daniel rushed over to Wally’s side. “Hol’ on now. I gotcha,” he said as he helped prop Wally down. A small vial of clear liquid slid out of a compartment on Daniel’s suit sleeve. He twisted the cap off it and raised Wally’s head up. Soon, Wally felt the sweet sensation of the painkiller rush down his throat.

Wally’s head felt slightly less burdened.

“Okay, ya’ just rest now til’ you feel better.” Daniel gently placed Wally’s head back down on the ground. “I’ll deal with these big lizards myself, dontcha worry.”

Wally mumbled a feeble thank you as he watched his friend jog back to the great winged reptilian like creatures. Wally had seen a few pictures from the Old-Time depicting creatures like this. He forgot what they were called. All he knew was that he was very afraid of them. Any natural predators, or even remotely dangerous animals, were in the Earth’s fenced-off wildlife sector. There were big reptiles and amphibians in the sector, of course. Yet never had any animal grown to the magnitude that Wally observed now.

Daniel was now so close to the nearest creature. The smaller one of the two. It had deep, dark, and long scales running over the entirety of its elongated body. There were great bat-like wings that rested just behind its shoulder blades. Its mouth was opened in a frozen snarl, revealing wickedly pointy fangs. It starkly contrasted the much larger one next to it. The other creature had bright orange, red, and yellow scales that hugged its body tighter than its companion’s scales did, however its wings were similarly bat-like.

Even in pain, Wally marveled at the outstanding beauty of these mysterious creatures. Especially their eyes. The eyes of the bright beast were like pools of gold. It occurred to Wally too late that sleeping creatures have their eyes closed.

With a screech that reverberated in his very bones, the large animal reared up. The stun-numb didn’t last long on these gargantuan beasts at all. Daniel stumbled back in surprise. He was practically under the legs of the beast, and the smaller creature was beginning to stir.

“Dan . . . Daniel. Run.” Wally’s words were lost to the roars echoing around the cave. Grimacing, Wally pushed himself up. Daniel was between him and the creatures now. The obsidian-dressed beast was now very much awake. It settled on its haunches, getting ready to pounce on Daniel, no doubt. Fumbling, Wally searched for the stun-numb button on his suit. He poorly steadied his arm in the direction of the creature. His vision blurred. With a jerk of his arm, the stun-numb needle shot out of his arm.

He heard Daniel cry out, and then there was silence. Through tears, Wally saw Daniel lying face down on the ground.

“Oh, shit,” Wally exclaimed. Looking up, Wally saw the two great creatures staring at him. “Hehe,” he mumbled in fear before meeting darkness.

***

I intervened in time. My connection to the yellow-glowing one allowed me to divert his shaking arm in the direction of his companion. Blessedly, he hit his friend with what had frozen my sister and I earlier. Speaking of my sister, she now crept close to the two Men who had so rudely interrupted our slumber. The one who had shot her was face down, while the one I connected to lay face up. “What shall we do with them?” My sister’s tinkling voice asked. "Shall we leave?” I observed the small, pale Men. I thought. I decided. "I would like to take the one that I have claimed. His will was shaken. His spirit . . . uncertain.” Again, I bid my eyes to blaze gold as I looked straight down to the face of the yellow-auraed one. His skin began to glow, and shift. Though it was hard to see under the horrible cage enveloping his body. Nevertheless, this man’s tangibility and intangibility fused with mine. I felt the man’s sleeping conscious as the last of his being became one with mine. "You are treading dangerous waters, brother,” my sister warned. "I am fully aware of what I will do. Please do not worry sister. I have curiosities of my own.” With a new mind imbued into my own, I diverted my attention to the red-auraed one. "He can be left here. We can build a deep well. Mother can keep him quiet.” My sister grunted in agreement. With that, we began to carve out the soft Earth that our Mother detached from herself. This man would not make another sound.

***

Wally felt as if he were floating. In a pool of warm water. It’s as if he were in his mother’s womb again, and he loved the feeling. He had an incredible urge to suck his thumb, just as he did when he was a child. Yet as he soon found out, Wally appeared to not have a thumb. Or a hand. Or anything. However, his vision was covered in a milky white sheen. Despite Wally’s predicament, he felt contentment.

Soon, he felt his nonexistent body shudder. A great voice had spoken.

“Hello, man. There is no need to be frightened.”

Wally, surprisingly, was not afraid. He felt as if nothing could touch him, wherever he was. He was confused though.

“You are not dreaming,” the voice told him. "Dreams are a slice of reality, but consciousness is ever clearer.”

Wally became as startled as he could as the voice appeared to read his mind.

“I have questions, and I would be ever so delighted if you answered them. Do not worry about your lack of tongue, for now we are one.”

This just furthered Wally’s confusion, but the booming voice asked away. Sometimes the voice was satisfied, other times, it seemed to huff with impatience. To be perfectly honest, Wally didn’t completely understand all the questions that were asked, and later, he would not even remember those questions.

There was a point amidst these questions where Wally felt the need to sleep. He never fell asleep. Not while the voice’s Earth-shaking timbre enveloped him.

“Thank you, man,” it said. “I will release you without harm for your cooperation.”

A sudden whoosh of air swirled in the womb-like room-of-sorts. Wally’s milky-white vision washed itself away, and suddenly he felt the painful nick of cold air against his skin. The hard bite of sharp rocks met his back.

His back!

Wally scrambled up. He had his body back. He could feel the physical world again.

And the physical world did not feel pleasant. Not after being wherever he had been. He soon came to the realization that he was naked as the day he was born, despite the darkness around him. He shivered. There didn’t seem to be any light source nearby.

Quite irrationally, Wally began to walk in a random direction.

“Ugh,” he huffed out when he seemed to hit a wall of rock. His hands searched the wall, and he gave a yelp when it began to move. Blindly, he scrambled backwards. A guttural growl came out of the rock wall. A much louder growl-yip sounded nearby. Suddenly, Wally’s surroundings were ablaze.

His eyes adjusted to the new light, and when he looked up, he couldn’t find the air to scream.

Shimmering like mirages, two dragons . . . the dragons! Wally and Daniel had found dragons! It all came back to Wally in a snap of a moment. They were in a cave . . . but not anymore as Wally observed. They were in a forest now. Wally looked around, expecting to find Daniel nearby. He did not find Daniel. Only the two great beasts and himself were visible.

Wary, Wally stared at the dragons in fear. The brightly scaled one was resting its head on its massive front-clawed hands, while the smaller one had its head straight up as it rested on its belly.

They were both watching him.

“Go, man.” Wally jumped. “You will speak nothing of this. Our souls are intertwined. Your words should be like sweet honey, not sour vinegar.”

“What the hell,” Wally breathed to himself. Despite his roil of fear and confusion battling inside his stomach, Wally walked away. He never realized how, but somehow, he made it back to the OMH.

Its exterior was lit up in a soft blue light that extended deep into the sparsely populated forest. Feeling his chest cave in with some relief, he rushed into the OMH, relishing the soft carpet of its entrance floor. Immediately, he jumped into the cleaning-pool and soon dressed himself after his skin glared pink from the hot water.

Squeaky clean, Wally practically fell into his bedroom. The silk-soft fabric hugged his exhausted form. He didn’t recall when he fell asleep.

***

I sensed the tangible body of the man walk farther and farther away, until he stopped. He was not far at all. Despite Man’s growing dependability on their man-made machines, they seemed to have a knack for returning to their homes quite easily. They also have a knack for destroying homes as well. My sister slept uneasily beside me, and I joined her as our Mother sang us a lullaby that predated our time.

***

An aroma of French toast, sausage, and fruit permeated Wally’s nose the minute he woke up. The OMH hummed with its inner machines working to begin the day. The breakfast was gone before Wally could really taste the food, yet it silenced his impatient stomach. Yawning, Wally shuffled out to the living room. Tossing himself onto a sofa, the news of the day clicked on. Wally didn’t really watch it. The white noise it made helped Wally distract himself. Though that distraction didn’t last for long.

Wally shivered and shook non-stop. Recalling the events of yesterday. Dragons were real, and one had spoken to him. It seemed humanity’s efforts to close off all organisms into the wildlife sector had failed.

The wildlife sector!

Rushing over to a massive computer monitor, Wally hastily logged in and began to compose an email to the overseer of the wildlife sector. These dragons needed to be contained. He was halfway through the first sentence when his hands locked up. Then his fingers seemed to fuse together as if there were glue on them.

He felt the eerie sensation that he was being watched.

His eyes itched.

Backing away, rasping with fear, his fingers began to separate. Soon, he could move his hands again. He most certainly didn’t forget what that dragon had told him, he just didn’t want it to be real.

However, as he realized that he would never be able to communicate his findings at all, there was a kernel of relief mixed in with his disappointment.

The dragons would most likely make him one of the wealthiest humans on the planet, but to what end? He already had what he needed and wanted with his current home. It was Daniel who sought to enrich himself.

Daniel! Where was Daniel?

“Daniel?” Wally called out. “Are you here?”

No one answered.

He had not seen Daniel since they were both in the cave.

Growing in worry, Wally typed in Daniel’s bracelet ID code into the computer. Daniel’s location popped up, and so did his vitals.

Crying out with worry, Wally found a spare cave-diving suit, one much like the ones he and Daniel had used earlier, and he set out towards the cave that now had a gaping maw.

The rocky obstacles did not stop Wally from finding Daniel. Deep into the cave they had found the dragons in, Wally thought he found Daniel. His location was blinking right over his as he stood in the cave.

“Daniel!” He screamed. Only his echoes replied to him.

Suddenly, smacking his head, Wally connected his suit’s microphone to Daniel’s suit speakers. Miraculously since they still worked.

“Daniel?” He whispered now. “Can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Daniel, I see your location, but I don’t know where you are,” he explained. “I know you’re super malnourished, but please, say anything."

Silence again.

Feeling overwhelmed, Wally stumbled to the ground. Soft sand moved under his legs. There wasn’t sand in this cave before, was there?

Looking helplessly at his friends gradually lowering vitals, Wally began to dig into the sand. His suit recognized his intentions and extended a large shovel-like appendage from the suits back. It helped Wally dig, and dig, and dig. Until his arms felt like lead, and he felt the cool, rounded edge of Daniel’s suit helmet.

“Oh god!” He cried. Daniel weakly sat up, promptly falling over onto Wally. He looked so incredibly tired.

What happened next was a haze, but Wally distinctly remembers carrying Daniel over his own shoulder out of the cave and back to the OMH.

The OMH’s mechanical medical aid worked to heal Daniel and get him fed. Wally sat next to him while it worked. Daniel was asleep for the entire operation.

Yet when it was finished, Daniel groggily opened his eyes, looked at Wally, and smiled. His mouth moved to say something, but to both their surprise, no sound came out.

#fiction #shortstories #creative

1 note · View note

kittymaverick · 4 years

Text

It’s that time again. MCF: Black Crown commentary

I’m actually watching AdventureGameFan8 this time instead of Pazu first. (I intend to watch Pazu later for his commentary.) Anyhow, spoilers under the cut...

1. Skulls... skulls everywhere... HELP. Note: Kitty has a chronic fear of skulls since childhood. It’s bad enough that she still can’t finish 13th Skull even after all these years. 2. Her Majesty: You remember what happened last time... MD: ...A ghost drowned some people that were holding me hostage, and then I drowned that ghost again with the help of his crew? By the way, are you sending me on this case again just so I can come back with a good story? Her Majesty: Now why would I ever do that? *plays innocent*

3. Chapter 0. XD I like how it straight up acknowledges it’s a chapter 0. And we’re collecting... CRABS this time. (Better than skulls!)

4. Huh, interesting, for once this is a puzzle I would have needed to solve with a piece of paper nearby. I don’t think we’ve had that either forever, or for ages.

5. MD: Huh, so the asylum’s benefactor is Crown Estate Holdings... ...Is there such a thing as pissing off the descendants of a ghost you came across??? MD: I guess I’m about to find out...

6. I still don’t trust this Dr. Norton, and I SWEAR we’ve heard the name Nathaniel somewhere... MD: I should have kept a notebook of names just in case...

7. This patient file is giving me so many warning bells. MD: shiny round object-- MUST BE THE CRYSTAL BALL. *Paranoia max*

8. That’s a lot of lollipops you’re carrying doctor. I expect them to show up later. MD: Also, this pocket watch, if you so much as put them in yourself... Dr: ...I see you are still incredibly paranoid, much like you were on your last visit. MD: Can you honestly blame me given my line of work?

9. WAIT A MOMENT THE MD SIGNED THEIR NAME LEMME SEE IT I CAN READ CURSIVE-- MD: NEXT. If that actually says Phineas Crown I’m going to scream because WHERE IS THE REAL MD THEN.

10. Dr.: The last thing we need right now is the whole wing getting agitated. Me and MD: And then the whole wing got agitated... *sighs*

11. MD: Speaking of, I swear I did some property destruction while I was here last time. Has that been fixed? I’m starting to see why the Crown Estate might have a beef with you.

12. Dr.: I’ll be right back! MD: Really? You’re really going to just leave me here in the dark?... Good thing I swiped a torch from the table earlier. I was wondering why you just took that...

13. MD:...Okay seriously, if the WHOLE WING OF PATIENTS is in on the puzzle I seriously thing we’re doomed. You don’t know that. It might just be a game they like to play together. :P

14. MD: I just got chills. Something isn’t right, all of a sudden. Wow, understatement of the year. Glad to see that paranoia finally kicking in. MD: ...I did always have a late spider sense...

15. How convenient it is that there’s a museum to visit-- Um, MD?! MD: WHO TOUCHED MY BUGGY AND TAMPERED WITH THE BRAKES??? I TOLD YOU THE MUSEUM STAFF WERE BAD NEWS!!!! MD: And they even left a postcard telling me about it. Okay, they’re just taunting me now.

16. Um, MD, is your buggy technically the company’s? MD:................. They’re going to dock your pay for this, right? MD: That thought ALMOST made me just want to just stay in the car and go with it. 17. Ah, getting keys from other people’s incompetence. MD: If only all doors and puzzles were like that... To be fair, the last time the main antagonist was somewhat incompetent, we nearly broke space-time, and also almost got stuck in their hallucination. MD: ...Yeah, on second thought, never mind.

18. MD: Wow there, boy! Calm down. I’ve just notice that you’re not very good with animals. MD: You would think I would have learnt to keep a bag of treats handy by now, but alas. ...Wait, is this why you were never allowed a pet? MD: ...*changes subject* Hey look this map over here’s very interesting!

19. Another fact about the MD learned: They can rock-climbing. Somewhat. MD: I almost joined my car... People usually take their gloves OFF and put CHALK on for a reason, you know. Like, the chalk you just used 5 seconds ago. MD: If I grounded up the whole thing, then it’ll be obvious someone has been here. No duh! As if the open lock and dog in cage didn’t clue them in! /8D

20. This whole “let’s follow the most-definitely not evil artifact” is REALLY doing wonders on your chance of survival. MD: ...Look, it’s an occupational hazard... Mh-hmm. MD: ...And okay I do get a bit too into the mystery. So more like an occupational addiction.

21. Oh no, a person! Gotta stay hidden! MD: Uh, I think I’ve failed that already, with the fountain now 2 stories high and what not.

22. OH NO THE DOCTOR AND NURSE ARE HERE. RED ALERT! RED ALERT! MD: I’m armed with my fists and a sharp badge, don’t come closer. Doctor: Actually, we’re here because the patients all broke out during the black out... Nurse: And they took the girl with them here, using a stolen ambulance. MD: ...As much as it was the reason I managed to get out myself, your asylum REALLY needs better security. Also, how did you get in with the front door locked? 23. Doctor: By the way, they were screaming about a crown. Can you keep an eye out? MD: And I just all of a sudden remember a story about some villains who tricked me into finding something for them while I was on a case. Would you like to know what happened to them in the end? 8D (Spoiler alert: they drowned.) Doctor: Anyway, let’s split up. MD: That sounds like a “Let’s get the MD to do a the work while we just sit back and relax”... but sure, I’m in. Also doc, can you just give us one of those lollipops already? Like, it’s so obvious we’re going to need it later...

23. MD: Man, this watch sure is handy-- Um, did you already forgot what all of your supernatural/mechanical fancy gizmos have done in the past few games??? MD: ...Look, we detectives need our companion cubes, okay, especially the ones who can’t handle animals. Who happen to also VANDALIZE historical paintings. My GODS. MD: There was a THING, okay?!

24. SHADOW FIGURE DETECTED. ALERT, STRANGE PRESENCE DETECTED. MD: Yeah, it’s probably the doctor. They all end up weird sooner or later. You are REALLY to calm about this.

25. MD: Haha, funny note. Curses aren’t real! ... MD: ...Okay that was out of character. Yeah... let’s open it anyway though. 8D

26. ???: The last time we met, you killed my parents! MD: ...Oh, it’s you. Should have guessed, though I thought you were dead too. Phineas Crown: WELCOME TO MY HOUSE. MD: And YOU, are most definitely dead. Seriously, didn’t you get dragged back under water?! You REALLY have a lot of crime families coming after you, don’t you? Also, CAN WE NOPE OUT OF HERE?! MD: Yeah, prime time to be stuck in a corridor right now. So, um, HELP? Dr.: I got this! This way! MD: Wait, YOU?! Nah, ah, I’m not falling for-- okay, fine, you better not get possessed later thought!

27. Doctor: We better find the nurse and get out of here, so... I’ll hold the door, and you... figure a way out for us. MD: It’s so strange having an ally so early in the game. I’m so suspicious... *Finds a way out* Doctor: Is that... you car in the distance? MD: *sob* yes... Doctor: I’m sorry, it was a nice car. Oh for once someone compliments the car! Doctor: At least you didn’t go over with it. ...MD, I think you have competition in the sarcasm department now.

28. Nurse: HELP! Dr. and MD: ...welp, better find her quick. *Dog shows up* MD: AAAAHHH! *Dog whines* MD: ...good doggy, nice doggy... please remember me giving you treats and not me locking you up... Hey, maybe you WILL get a pet after all!

29. So, we probably should avoid the patients and that women-- *MD walks right back into the building* REALLY?! Doctor: ...I do believe that our detective hasn’t been the most self-preserving after all those traumatic events in their life. MD: Look, if I don’t take some risks, I’m not going to earn enough money to eat, okay? Doctor: True enough, that said, let’s go into this maze and look for the nurse. MD: Now hold on, that’s way too dangerous! ...You two are perfect for each other, in the worst of ways. 30. MD: Well, thank god for that dog. Aaaand the Doctor’s lost. Bet you he’s the one going to be in distress next. MD: ...On account of him calling my car nice, I’ll highly consider rescuing him in a moment. 31. Skull patient: ... MD: ...Um, hi? *Skull patient attacks!* *MD uses block! It’s super effective* *MD uses punch! It’s also super effective!* MD: I personally prefer not to use violence, but oh well... ...Since WHEN have you been able to knock a guy out with one punch?! MD: Violence is a last resort, okay? Says the person who would have probably gotten out of MANY MANY situations if you’d had thrown more punches in the past! 32. Another unconscious patient?! MD: Not me! Nurse: ...That was me, sorry. Also, they said something about what was up here before you knocked them out. Might help before the police get here. MD: You guys keep on saying police like they will actually show up in time to be helpful, when usually, that’s not the case... 33. MD: Aaaand got the starchart-- WAH! Doctor: Hi, I’ve rescued myself from the maze! I also know the way back now though. MD: ...This is SO new to me. Tell me about it. People actually saving themselves now? What is this?! Nurse: Well, there’s still the girl, if you want to rescue someone. Doctor: Yes, I agree wholeheartedly with that. The two of us would only get in the way, but you should rescue the girl, detective. We’ll wait outside! Bye! ...Wait, so we’re rescuing the villain now??? MD: ...again, this is SO new to me. [Part 2 coming soon.]

#Mystery Case files #black crown #big fish games #eipex games

5 notes · View notes

missnmikaelson-main · 5 years

Text

The Mummy - Cairo Prison

Elena hovered behind Finn’s shoulder with a giddy smile on her face. It had always been a bad habit of hers: hovering. It used to drive her crazy; it still did. She was well aware of what she was doing, but she couldn’t seem to stop bouncing from foot to foot so certain was she that her brother had found something truly significant to history.

If she was right then he had just made a name for himself, and she was out of the stacks for good; Kol had said he couldn’t have translated the ancient symbols without her and that he would most definitely need her help. She knew that was a bald faced lie, but she couldn’t bring herself to care; he could have done it on his own, it would have taken more time but he could have done it on his own, and he wanted the help of his sister.

Elena couldn’t contain herself anymore; she was certain Finn had been squinting through the eyepiece longer than Ramses II had ruled Egypt.

“See the cartouche there,” excitement bubbled over in her voice as she pointed, “it’s the official royal seal of Seti I. I’m sure of it.” She smiled proudly.

“Perhaps,” Finn hummed and continued to inspect the box all the while thinking he should have joined the theatre.

Kol’s eyes widened. He hadn’t originally recognized the cartouche; there were so many symbols on the box that had been worn almost away by the passage of time. Leaning closer he saw the Elena was right; the box held the seal of the last Pharaoh of the Old Kingdom.

Finn lowered the box and lifted the delicate papyrus. He didn’t need to spend time examining it to know it was the real thing.

“I’ve already dated it,” Elena continued as if she hadn’t heard the scepticism in her boss’ voice. “This map is almost four thousand years old, and the hieratics over here…” she pointed to the top corner and drew in a deep breath.

“It’s Hamunaptra,” Kol narrowed his eyes and translated upside down.

“Yes,” Elena bit her bottom lip.

The siblings didn’t notice the brief freeze of the curator or the nervous twitch in his eye; they were preoccupied thinking of the ramifications of finding that which had yet to be proven real.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Finn cleared his throat and frowned, “we are scholars not treasure hunters. Hamunaptra is a myth.”

“All myths are rooted in truth,” Elena crossed her arms. “History fades to legend and legend fades to myth. The city was said to be where the early pharaohs hid the wealth of Egypt.”

“In a big underground treasure chamber,” Kol nodded quickly. He had heard the stories as well. “They said the entire city was rigged to sink into the sand at the pharaoh’s command.”

“A simple flick of a switch,” Elena grinned, “and the whole place would disappear beneath the sand. The city mysteriously disappeared from records around 2134 BC.”

“It’s all fairy tales and hokum,” Finn sighed. He tilted the map closer to the burning candle to see some of the faded hieroglyphs. He swore when the papyrus caught fire and threw it on the floor disdainfully to avoid a burn.

Kol stomped out the flames with his shoe and lifted the delicate paper into his hands. His mouth popped open in outrage; he might not have been the most careful person when it came to handling the treasures of Egypt, but even he knew better than to hold something so precious near an open flame.

“You just burnt off part of the lost city,” Kol shook his head. He could still read a large portion of the journey, but the final stretch was gone.

“It’s for the best, I’m sure,” Finn leaned back in his chair and watched the devastation playing across Elena’s features. “Many men have wasted their lives looking for this city; no one had found it, and most have never returned.”

“You destroyed the map,” Kol glared at him.

“I’m sure it was a fake,” Finn shook his head. A small smirk lifted the edge of his mouth when he turned to his librarian. “I am surprised at you Elena, to be so easily fooled.”

Elena snatched the box from the desk before Finn could reach for it. She knew she was right. She knew the map had been real and that she hadn’t been fooled.

She cast Finn a suspicious look before spinning on her heel and snagging her brother’s arm. She slammed the door angrily behind her.

Finn had been right about one thing: many men had wasted their lives searching for Hamunaptra and had never returned, but she was no man.

++++

Elena swallowed nervously and took a deep breath which she immediately regretted. The sharp inhalation of air filled her nose with all manner of smells that she would have much preferred she remain unfamiliar with: sweat, blood, and something unknown and terribly foul. The worst of the smells seemed to be coming from the man in front of them as he led her and Kol through the worst place she could have ever imagined.

“You told me you acquired it in Thebes,” Elena hissed through the corner of her mouth.

Kol cleared his throat and watched her from the corner of his eyes. He was honestly surprised he had gotten off with the lie for as long as he had; Elena was usually sharper about calling him out on his deceits.

“I lied,” he shrugged one shoulder and stepped around a pile of animal droppings.

“I gathered as much,” Elena rolled her eyes. “Why are we in a prison yard?”

“The map was a dead end,” Kol whispered, “the next best thing is to ask the person I got it from.”

“Why is the antiquities dealer in a prison?” She held her breath.

“Well,” Kol bit his cheek and squeezed her hand, “he’s not exactly a dealer, and I didn’t come by the box… legally.”

Elena spun on her heel when the jailor brought them to a stop outside of a cell. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Tell me you didn’t,” she shook her head. The sheepish smile was answer enough. “You picked a man’s pocket!”

“Shh,” Kol pressed a finger to his lips, “we are in a prison yard, darling.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Wouldn’t want you getting thrown in here,” Elena rolled her eyes; he had a habit of picking pockets when he’d been drinking: it was the only time he was any good at it. She turned from her brother to the foul smelling jailor. “What is he in prison for?”

“I had no idea,” the man shrugged and leaned against the bars of the cell. “I asked when I heard you were coming.”

Elena arched an eyebrow expectantly.

“He said he was ‘just looking for a good time’,” the jailor snickered.

Her heart jumped in her chest when the interior door of the cell burst open and a man was pushed through by four guards. Elena’s eyes widened; his hands were bound by chains. Was it truly necessary for a chained man to be escorted by four armed guards? Surely they were overreacting; putting on a show for her and her brother.

Elena swallowed and schooled her features into an impassive mask; she had a feeling her nose still wrinkled in disgust though. She forced down a sick feeling. Never before had she been in possession of a weak stomach, but then again she had never been in such a place.

How long had it been since anyone inside had bathed? She knew it had been awhile for the man before her; his face was half hidden behind his scraggly hair and beard. What little she could see of his face was covered in a bruise that looked fairly new.

“Seriously?” Elena cast her brother a sidelong look. “He’s just a filthy criminal.” Was this really the man who had made one of the most architecturally significant finds of the century?

Kol cleared his throat and shook his head.

Elena shivered when the man wrapped his hands around the bars and looked her over in a way that made the base of her spine tingle and her breath catch in her throat. Her shiver turned to indignation when he looked to her brother and smirked.

“Who’s the strumpet?”

“Excuse me?” Elena’s eyes narrowed.

Kol stepped back and signaled to the Warden that now would be a very good time for him to disappear. He vividly remembered the last person to make a disparaging remark against his sister; the man left that street with a few less teeth. The first had received a bloody nose from him before Elena had insisted she take care of things herself.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” the jailer cleared his throat and stepped away.

“I’m trembling with anticipation,” Nik rolled his eyes. He grunted when a club came down on the back of his head and gave the guard a nasty look over his shoulder.

Elena swallowed down her anger. She wanted answers more than she wanted catharsis. She could practically sense the surprise from Kol when she didn’t haul off and hit him; truthfully seeing that club come down had been sickening.

“We…” she forced a cheery smile and nodded to her brother, “… found your puzzle box, and we’ve come to ask about it.”

“No…” Nik shook his head and searched her gaze. “You came to ask about Hamunaptra.”

Elena bristled with shock. She had not been expecting him to know the truth about the box; his appearance didn’t exactly scream scholar.

“How do you know the box pertains to Hamunaptra?” Elena tilted her head.

“Because that’s where I was when I found it,” he spoke slowly.

“That sounds like a lie to me,” Kol shook his head. Nobody ever found Hamunaptra; that was the whole point. If anybody had the city would have been swarming with tourists from every corner of the world; even if it turned out to be only a city of sand. The legends alone would have drawn people in; anyone who found it would have made a killing.

“Don’t I know you?” Nik’s eyes narrowed with a hint of recognition; before Kol could get a word in Nik’s fist flew through the bars and collided with the man’s jaw.

It was rather satisfying seeing the young man out cold on the floor of the prison; he barely felt the second time the club hit over his head. His father had always said he had a thick skull.

Elena’s eyes dropped to her unconscious brother before lifting to Nik. She knew her brother well and she knew that he probably deserved the punch; if not for what he had done to this man than for something that had transpired in the past. He had a tendency to rub some people the wrong way.

“You were actually at Hamunaptra?” Elena stepped around Kol and approached the bars.

Nik motioned to Kol on the floor.

“I know my brother,” she shrugged as if to say this sort of thing happened all the time. Truthfully it hadn’t happened in several years.

He tempered his smile when he saw the amused spark in her eyes and answered her question.

“I was there,” he nodded and gave her a once over. He held out his hands and smiled wryly. “The City of the Dead.”

“What did you see?” Elena leaned closer; her eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Sand,” he met her dark eyes, “and death; rather fitting when you consider the name of the place.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Since entering the prison she had felt no shortage of lecherous gazes; many of these men hadn’t seen a woman in years. Looking into his clear blue eyes she was struck with the knowledge that he was not looking at her in a lewd manner; it was amusement that glittered in his gaze.

“Could you tell me how to get there?” She tilted her head and stepped closer to him.

“You want to know?” He raised his brows and mirrored her head tilt. He tempered his smirk when she nodded and leaned in a little closer. “You really want to know?”

“Yes,” she could almost feel the heat coming from the iron bars between them. Behind her Kol began to stir.

Elena blinked and met his gaze. She had no time to react when he stepped forward, grasped her chin and pressed his mouth firmly against hers.

The squeak died in her throat as a heat spread from her mouth down to her toes. Her mouth popped open in shock when he pulled back an inch and met her eyes.

“Then get me out of here.”

Elena was still staring in when he was dragged back through the door. She snapped out of her reverie after a moment and turned to the jailor who had returned.

“Where are they taking him?” Dread curled down her spine when his mouth opened to reveal a rotting smile.

“Back to his cell. He’s to be hanged in the morning; apparently he had a very good time.”

++++

“Never should have shown her that box,” Kol shook his hand before bending and extracting a set of keys from the guard’s belt. He heaved an exasperated sigh and held the heavy ring close to his body to stop the jangle of keys.

His eyes peeked into each cell he passed until he spotted the man with the scraggly hair. Bracing his hands against the metal bars he tilted his head and smirked while rattling the ring of keys.

“Don’t suppose you know which is which?” Kol cocked an eyebrow when he stood from the narrow cot and pointed out a key towards the middle of the ring. “Much obliged,” he pulled open the door as quietly as possible, “Elena hates it when I’m late.”

“Your sister talked you into this,” Nik rubbed his wrists when the shackles fell free, “after I did that?”

Kol ran a finger along his darkened jaw and shrugged. “It’s hardly the first time I’ve been punched; once by my own sister. I’ll not bore you with the details.”

“Shame,” Nik sighed, “it sounds like an interesting story.”

++++

Elena cringed at the foul breath. She had been expecting the advance and come prepared for it, but she had started to think that maybe just maybe it wasn’t going to happen; the warden had even sent her brother to ensure the right man was released.

Apparently the jailors didn’t get out much either. Most men would have been happy with a cash bribe, but these ones seemed to be lonely.

She smiled encouragingly and wrinkled her nose when he leant in close. She brought her hand up as if to caress the back of his neck and pressed her thumb firmly to a pressure point behind his ear.

She shuddered when he fell to the floor in front of her and turned to slip from the office and into the street where she leaned against the wall of the prison and waited.

tag @rissyrapp20 @elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn @morsmornte

6 notes · View notes