#informing him of his loss. and he’s like FUCK GOD DAMMIT
Text
i have this inside joke with a friend of mine where hiei keeps making bets that he is most certain he will win, but inevitably loses them after a long period of time.
funniest part about it is like, he doesn’t have any money, and he doesn’t recognize the monetary value of human money bc “foolish human games,” but he’s so confident he will win that he just makes a complete ass of himself every time. so he’s just accumulating debt through sheer hubris until he decides to terrorize his local 7/11 by applying for a job to pay off his owing. or just. robs someone, probably.
anyway have this meme i made last night
#specifically the bit is that he kurama and botan have an ongoing bet about whether or not kuwabara and yusuke will get together#kurama and botan say yes. hiei’s like “i have little interest in your childish game.#but i will play along if just to reap a reward from your stupidity.#fast forward like. half a decade a hiei’s chilling in the tree in someone’s backyard when he gets a telepathic message from kurama—-#informing him of his loss. and he’s like FUCK GOD DAMMIT#has to start working at a convienience store to pay off his debt bc he HATES knowing he owes anyone anything#it’s utterly humiliating but like he never stops. bc he just HAS to be right one of these days. it’s both pride and spite.#he develops what is essentially a minor gambling addiction out of sheer hubris#anyway ramble over this bit is very dumb but i love it#hiei#yyh#yu yu hakusho#fishboy talks#technically
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Object of Obsession - 39 / 46
Fandom: Halloween
Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC
Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.
Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence
Author Note: Minors DNI!
Word Count: 3,398
Chapter 39 - Hello, Nathan
Nathan's body pulsed with rage and annoyance making his headache worse. Stupid headache had been plaguing him for almost three days. Somehow he managed to keep his feelings from showing as he put on a fake look of interest.
"And, last John Doe." The mortician's assistant, Abrams, pulled the final drawer revealing the last body.
"Huh," Nathan said. His eyes slowly wandered down the long row of dead bodies. Ten people killed in a single day. "These three look different," he pointed out.
Abrams nodded. "Yeah. These three we found in an unmarked SUV. No ID. Only that one over there doesn't seem like a typical Myers kill."
Nathan nodded his head and reached out.
"Awe, shit! Don't touch him, man," Abrams shouted. "We haven't had time to do any autopsies yet."
Nathan pulled his hand back. "Sorry, just, noticed there was a cut on his wrist."
Abrams nodded. He put on a pair of gloves and turned the dead man's hands over. "Both actually. He was the worst off of these three. Super bloody and shit. Let's see." He pointed at one of the other bodies. "Broken neck looks like. But that one? No idea. We're going to have to open him up and see what his insides look like. He doesn't have any outward wounds. Could have just died of a heart attack when Myers attacked his friends." He shrugged. "We'll see later… I guess technically today."
"Huh," Nathan said as he took a step back. He absentmindedly rubbed his left shoulder as chills ran through his body.
Oh, gods.
"Looks like Dr. Loomis hired those seven to take on Michael Myers. Maybe he hired these three as well to follow the killer? We're not sure and Dr. Loomis isn't talking yet."
Dammit, dad. Why didn't you tell me? Fuck.
Nathan pulled out a wad of bills and handed it to Abrams.
"Thanks."
Abrams snatched the money as if he was worried Nathan was going to go back on his word.
"Anything for a Myers enthusiasts," he said as he not so subtly counted the cash. "I'm one myself, but uh, don't tell anyone. Kinda taboo around these parts."
Nathan shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't around to make friends. He was trying to find his cousin. And he had a feeling, he found her. No. It wasn't just a feeling. He knew he found her.
He'd arrived in Haddonfield the day before, hoping against hope, that the tidbit of information he'd received was wrong. That the apparent captive young woman, Michael Myers had taken a liking too, wasn't his cousin. That Gretchen's luck wasn't so shitty to land her in the hands of a psycho killer.
His hopes were promptly shattered earlier that very day.
Nathan had found the doctor who apparently had treated the young woman, who seemed to be pretty ill. The poor doctor looked terrified as she recounted her tale. She had seen Gretchen.
His poor cousin was in a horrible, probably delusional state. Michael had brought her in for help. Undoubtedly, the effect her pills had on her had worn off and her body was trying to figure out how to handle the rush of power that was in her.
The doctor was pretty sure Michael wasn't going to kill his cousin. She had expected to die and was surprised when she woke up alive. She clearly wanted to leave town, but her husband apparently refused. They had a police car parked out front at all times, keeping watch over their house. There was little doubt in his mind that they were hoping to spring a trap on Myers. Hoping he'd come back to finish the doctor, but only to meet their police and his end.
Except, he didn't go looking for her. Apparently, Myers returned to his old home. But that too had been a trap, although no one even realized it. By the time the cops arrived at the house, Myers was gone and seven people were dead.
"Well, hopefully Dr. Loomis makes it. I told you he was Michael's old psychologist, right? I mean, you're an enthusiast. You know about their history. Heard his surgery went well, but ya never know. Dude's old as fuck. Crazy bastard still has a hardon for killing Myers."
Nathan watched the man stuff the cash in his back pocket. Although both men were roughly the same age, in their mid-twenties, Abrams had an air of immaturity about him. Nathan had immediately pegged the assistant as his way to view the bodies that had been discovered a few hours ago. He wasn't wrong. A couple drinks, a little bit of talk, with one final push of promised cash, and Abrams was soon showing off the bodies of the dead.
The first seven didn't interest Nathan in the slightest. Myers killed them. There was no doubt about that. It was the last three he needed to see. He needed to know.
"He might even have a groupie with him," Abrams added.
"What?" Nathan asked, his eyes narrowing with annoyance. His headache grew worse.
"Well, seems like he was seen with a young woman. Took her to the local clinic. I mean, there be crazy people out there. I just never thought he had it in him. Seemed like one of those only-interested-in-killing types. If you know what I mean," Abrams said as he started pushing the bodies back into the freezer.
"Thank you for your time," Nathan said as he rubbed his left shoulder.
"Hey, man," Abrams called out. "Wanna-"
Nathan waved his hand in the air as he left. No, he didn't. He had a lot of questions that needed fucking answers.
Nathan made his way back to his motel room that was on the outskirts of town.
"Fucking secrets," he growled as he slammed the door to his room just a little too hard. He tossed his phone onto his bed before he rubbed his temples. "Calm down," he whispered to himself. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at his phone.
"Fuck." Picking it up, he pressed on his father's name. His eyes spotted the early AM hour. His father was probably sleeping but it didn't matter, he was going to keep calling him until-
"Hey, Nathan," he picked up after the second ring. "Are you alright?"
"Dad," Nathan said curtly. There was something about his father's voice that made him pause for a brief moment. He was awake.
"How are you-"
"What the fuck, dad?" Nathan blurted out. "You knew where she was the whole time, didn't you?" The silence on the other side was proof enough for him. "A serial killer had Gretchen this whole time and you knew about it? You had me searching all over the place for her when all you had to say was 'Go to Haddonfield, Nathan'. Fuck, dad!"
"Nathan, I-"
"The things he's probably done to her. Doing to her now. You should have told me. We could have-"
"He's not going to hurt her," his father interrupted.
"How do you-"
His father deeply exhaled. "She called me a few hours ago. She's fine. She wants to be with him."
The world seemed to drop from under his feet. He always knew his cousin was a bit strange due to her visions. He never imagined she'd be one to fall for a serial killer.
"Stockholm syndrome," Nathan said.
Jethro let out a loud sigh. "Maybe, but you shouldn't be there yet, Nathan."
"Why's that?" Nathan asked.
"Because she saw Michael kill us. Yes, I should have told you before," Jethro quickly added as Nathan opened his mouth to interrupt. "But, I was sure you were going to try to save her from her fate and get yourself killed like she saw."
Nathan sat down on the bed and shook his head. "Your men are dead," he muttered.
"I know. They moved too soon, but I've got another group nearby. They're already ready and waiting. Nathan. Just leave Haddonfield for the day."
Nathan frowned. "Why the day?"
Jethro hesitated again, much to his annoyance.
"Seriously, dad?"
He heard a long drawn out sigh from the other end. "Michael dies on her birthday. We'll have her back. But until then, while he's still alive, neither of us are safe in Haddonfield."
Nathan froze. For some reason, his heart pounded wildly in his chest at the thought. A memory triggered in his brain. One that had haunted him for years. The first time she'd stopped taking the pills that were making her better. It was then that he saw there was more she could do than see visions. Then that he realized she had killed her parents. Then that he realized just how dangerous she truly was.
"She loves him, doesn't she?" Nathan asked.
The silence from his father's end answered his question.
"She's going to try and protect him," Nathan said. "Maybe I should go with your men tomorrow. Seeing me will probably confuse her."
"Nathan," Jethro said, sounding not to happy about his son's decision.
"Dad, I won't let Myers kill me," Nathan said.
"No, Nathan. I forbid it. You will leave Haddonfield today and come home. We'll both travel up together on her birthday so by the time we get here it'll be past the day. I'm not taking any chances with our lives. This is why I didn't tell you, Nathan. I knew you'd throw yourself at him to get her back. I couldn't risk it. I'm just trying to save your life, son."
Nathan didn't reply as he stared at his reflection on the old TV in the room. His face looked distorted on the black screen.
"Okay, dad," he relented. "I'm going to grab my stuff and come back home. We have a lot we need to discuss."
"Yes, Nathan. We do. Love you, son," his father said with audible relief in his voice. "See you soon."
"Yeah," Nathan replied. "See you soon, dad."
He hung up then powered down his phone, tossing it onto the bed.
"Fuck, Nathan. What are you doing?" he asked as he started to pace. He ran his fingers through his brown hair then pressed his hand against the back of his neck, rolling his head side to side.
He went to his duffel bag and rummaged through the contents. Pulling out his handgun, he checked it before setting it on his bed.
"Sorry, cuz," he muttered.
Chills ran through his body as he took off his shirt and headed into the bathroom. He loved her. She was his cousin after all. But she fucking terrified him.
He turned on the shower and then stared at his reflection in the mirror. His left shoulder had a nasty scar running along it.
It was the only time she stopped taking her meds that suppressed her powers. The sudden access to what she was had overwhelmed her. He didn't know it at the time.
Nathan had come home early that day, intent on surprising his family.
No one was home at the time. Or so he thought. But then he found her. In her room, fiercely drawing. He hadn't seen her in that state in a long time. Somehow, she'd gotten away with not taking her meds while under his father's roof.
She'd looked up at him. Her eyes wild then she had smiled.
"Nathan!"
He had took one step towards her when the mood suddenly shifted. Her eyes widened with fear and she threw herself back.
"Stay away from me! No. Don't hurt me. Please. Stop. Nathan, help me!" She had started to scream as she scurried to the other end of the room.
His immediate reaction was to try and calm her down. Wherever her mind was it wasn't in the present.
That was a mistake. He didn't feel the pain at first. But out of the corner of his left eye he saw her hand on his shoulder.
"I can't. I'm sorry. He'll hurt me." She looked so distraught and conflicted. It had confused him. He had watched as she sat back on her haunches. Her drawing pencil stuck in his shoulder. She had stabbed him.
It was pain that knocked him out of his stupor. His blood felt as if it were on fire. The flesh around the pencil felt as if it were being ripped back. She was speaking, but her words weren't English. Her eyes weren't there. He knew he was screaming. His insides felt as if they were melting. Luck was on his side though. Apparently, his father had gotten home around that time. Managed to knock her out before she could kill him.
But, before she lost consciousness she'd said something rather puzzling.
Gods! She would have killed him if it weren't for his father. And now? She was off her meds again, making her dangerous and unpredictable.
Nathan stepped into the warm shower to refresh himself. He trusted his father. Trusted the old man knew what he was doing by letting such a powerful weapon live a "free" life. Because that's what she was, he had realized. A weapon. He stayed close to her because he knew what she could do. Because he felt responsible for making sure not she stayed sane. His father had promised him that once she was twenty-three she'd be back home and under heavier watch.
-A very beautiful weapon.-
Nathan frowned. Turning off the shower, he wrapped a towel and wrapped it around his waist then went back to the room. He picked up his handgun and walked back to the bathroom. Setting it on the sink, he wiped the condensation from the mirror.
"Sorry, cousin," he said softly. He tapped his fingers in the hard steel. He couldn't let her live. Especially, if she was going to be with and protect a serial killer. What a pair they would make. Michael would be unstoppable and Nathan had no idea what Gretchen was capable of. He had a feeling his father knew. Either way, didn't matter.
A terrible knowledge zapped through him.
That's what she saw, wasn't it. The thing he swore he try to make sure didn't happen. She saw him trying to kill her, which made her defend herself. He couldn't exactly blame her. He had thought that it was something else. She had asked for his help. He thought he was going to have to protect her from someone. Yes, he would have to protect her from someone. From herself.
Sorry, Gretchen.
He'd failed. He swore her vision wouldn't come true. She looked so terrified and sad. But it was going to come true. He was going to hurt her. He was going to kill her.
-No.-
"Motherfucker," he snarled as his headache intensified. He clenched his muscles and bent his head. Slowly, his fingers wrapped around the gun handle and he felt his arm raise. A frown crossed he brow as he pointed it to his forehead.
What the fuck?
He clicked his tongue.
“Boom,” his voice taunted him. His hand moved down, setting the gun on the sink counter. He placed his hands flat and leaned in close to the mirror a cruel smile crossed his lips. “Hello, Nathan,” his own voice said.
What? He struggled to move his body, but nothing listened to him. He could only stare back at himself.
"Sorry I had to take such drastic measures, but you left me no choice. I was just going to ride along, take over one of your other men when we go rescue my love. We could have been one tiny happy family. You, your dad, me, my beloved Gretchen. But, you're a threat. Trying to kill my love when we're so close to finally being together again like we were meant to be."
His face smiled.
Nathan willed his body to move, but he couldn't do anything.
"So, Michael dies tomorrow, huh?" his voice asked. "Good. For once, she doesn't die before he does."
Internally, Nathan felt as if he were struggling, fighting, desperately trying to regain the control he didn't realize he'd lost. He felt as if he were clawing inside of his body to get out. But, outwardly, his hands moved without his permission. He felt him explore his body.
"Brandon," came the reply. That name. "Hmm. I mean, it's not my body, but not bad either. Bet that hurt though." He rubbed his left shoulder.
You were the one they found dead. Michael's first victim of the year is what they said.
"He caught me off guard. Didn't expect the bastard to come back like that," Brandon replied as he touched his skin.
Nathan struggled to move his body. It was his body, not this Brandon's.
His own voice laughed at his attempt. He leaned in close to the mirror, his eyes gazing back at him. A sly smile crossed his lips.
“What do you say you and I get her back for this lovely scar she left on your body.” He cocked his head to one side. "Our body?"
No!
His own voice laughed again. He hated it. Hated the fact that he was moving but it wasn't him. “You know. Cousins used to marry back in the day."
Don't you fucking dare touch her, you sicko.
"Nathan," Brandon said with another laugh. "You wanted to kill her! Changed your mind already?"
Kill her to save the world. Save her from herself. Not fuck her. She's my little cousin.
Brandon snorted. "And she's my girlfriend. To be fair, this is as much her fault as it is your own. Me having to take this drastic measure. Had you not been so intent on wanting to kill her, I wouldn't have taken over your body. We both know I wouldn't have been able to stop you if I took anyone else over. And, had she not banished me from that stupid house, well... we wouldn't be here. But maybe it's a good thing she did. You would have pissed me off if you killed her. Your family does that. Doesn't want to deal with the crazy events that always follow her so they tend to let her die. Fucking annoying when you finally come to yourself and find out your soulmate has already died."
Nathan continued to struggle then froze. He felt as if something cold and slimy was wrapping around him. Eyes stared back at him. His but also not his. He focused back on himself as Brandon stared back at him through the mirror.
"I know this is going to frustrate you. Honestly, I would rather let you drift off into peaceful sleep. Let your soul loose from this body. But, well, I kinda need you. My soul is... not completely intact anymore."
Nathan wanted to thrash but he remained frozen, trapped in his own mind. Something seemed to slowly envelop him. Fuse with his essence. The energy he felt as he tried to regain control of his body disappeared, leaving him "hanging" there.
Brandon let out a loud yawn and grabbed the gun, walking back to the bedroom. "But, I forgive her for what she did. She's just confused as always and forgot how strong she is. He does that to her, you know. Makes her believe he's her soulmate but in reality it's always been me. Our souls were bound ages ago."
He set the gun down by the nightstand.
"Don't worry, Nathan. I won't tell her you were planning on killing her. And you won't be fucking her. I will. Now, let's get some sleep. There are a few things I need to do later today before we're finally reunited tomorrow."
Nathan felt as if he were in some sort of void, while also somehow still anchored to his body.
How?
A conversation he had with her a couple years ago in her apartment popped into his head.
“Gretchen. Do the events you see always come true?”
“I think so. I mean, sometimes I misinterpret stuff."
It suddenly made sense. He'd come to the wrong conclusion. Gods, dammit! He shouldn't have pushed her away. He should have worked with her to figure out her visions so he knew exactly what was coming. He could have avoided this. Probably.
Should have, could have, would have. If onlys. In the end he didn't. They didn't. He went along with his father in keeping it a secret what she could do. He even took it a step further by pretending she didn't have visions. By trying to make her doubt herself because he had hoped that she'd eventually give up and stop paying attention them. That she'd try to be "normal".
He'd fucked up. They'd fucked up. They were going down the path she saw because they chose to stick their heads in the sand instead of being proactive.
Gretchen's final words before she lost consciousness that day she'd attacked him came back to him.
"You're not Nathan."
I'm so sorry, Gretchen.
Chapter 40 - Up Against a Wall
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”
Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”
Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.
so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can
OMG FLASHBACK??
yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions
oh dear
Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE
EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES
???
RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!
ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us
?? ??????? ?????????????????????
so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol
OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!
A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]
so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that
-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect
LMAO
WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”
oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime
blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI
“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN
“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh
“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”
“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier
LSDKFJLSDKJFLK
“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI
(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)
so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”
and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”
“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas
dsfaelkjldkjgl
you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??
this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed
“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim
anyway so back to the unruly mob
not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap
oh wow the parents are out here too
is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys
MONOMA
so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this
anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW
and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/
it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”
so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez
OH MY GOD
MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED
OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT
truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand
“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao
(ETA:
WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)
“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason
narrator: they did not listen to reason
oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE
hmm
this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol
(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)
oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively
“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako
lol uh
gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off
SDLFKJSL
“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”
so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH
OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY
not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that
-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!
sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech
never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him
THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK
“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth
so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol
#bnha 323#uraraka ochako#rat principal#class 1-a#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
344 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part two of my series Enchanted by You is out!
Driving in New York City is a fucking nightmare.
Really, Bucky likes to avoid it if he can, much preferring to take the subway, or even walk to where he needs to be. But there are times when he can see the appeal to conceding. Like now, as he waits outside of the Henry Kaufman Building on NYU’s obscenely extensive campus.
It’s approaching finals week as December rears its head, bringing with it bitter-cold city weather, holiday cheer, and excess stress on college students across the country. And Steve isn’t exempt from that stress, so Bucky decided to pick him up for the weekend. Show him some relief. Give him a chance to take his hands off the wheel. He remembers how it was being a student, and god dammit if Steve doesn’t deserve some time to just feel good.
They’ve spent the night together before, but this is the first time Steve will be staying with him for any extended period of time. It’s thrilling; it feels like a next step. Though no steps have truly been discussed between them beyond the frankly obscene sex they’ve been having for the last month, so Bucky carefully sets that thought aside and puts his car in park. It’s 7:45-- Steve should be out soon.
Turning the radio on, Bucky scowls a bit at the gaudy Christmas music warbling out of the local station. He fiddles around until he finds the classic rock-- always a safe choice-- then pulls out his phone. There’s a text on his screen from Steve telling him he’s heading out, and Bucky sends a thumbs up back before switching to his email app to check while he waits. Hill sent him an email about a client booking monday, and there’s some information on upcoming holiday shoots, but nothing outside the normal cadence of things. Good. Predictable is just how Bucky likes his work.
There’s a knock on the passenger side window a few minutes later, and Bucky looks over to see Steve standing outside the car, a shy smile on his face. His sketchbook is tucked under one arm, and there’s paint smudged on his nose. Bucky wonders idly if he even knows it’s there; he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was a painter that first day at the shoot, but Bucky had been thrown for a proper loop when he’d found out Steve went to fucking NYU.
I’m there on a scholarship, Steve had said, cheeks aflame as he ducked his head down onto Bucky’s bare chest. Last thing my ma saw me get before she died. And christ, this kid is going to be the goddamn death of Bucky. Talented and sweet and secretive in equal measure-- surrounded by a shell Bucky is desperate to continue to crack.
Bucky unlocks the door and gestures for Steve to load his things in the back.
“Hey, how was class?” he asks as Steve tosses his backpack and overnight bag in the backseat.
Steve shuts the door and climbs in the front, buckling in.
“Pretty good. Doctor Morrison approved my proposal for the final.”
“Oh yeah?” Bucky eases them away from the curb and into traffic. It’s a thirty minute drive to Park Slope where Bucky’s apartment is; may as well settle in for the ride. “Is that the mock gallery submission you were talking about?”
“Yeah, we have to produce five related multimedia works. I’m trying to do a focus on how loss and grief and identity all intersect,” Steve says.
Loss is a more common theme in Steve’s life than Bucky could have fathomed, but he seems to cope through art-- self expression in its rawest form, and it’s admirable to see. Bucky is proud, he realizes.
“And your professor approved that?” Bucky reiterates.
“Yup.”
Bucky reaches over to squeeze Steve’s thigh. Steve squirms a little, and puts his hand over Bucky’s, interlacing their fingers. These little affections threaten to drive Bucky crazy. Fuck, he really needs to talk to Steve about this.
“I bet it’s gonna be awesome,” Bucky says, grinning as he navigates them towards Brooklyn with one hand. “Real profound.”
Steve snorted. “I don’t know about that,” he mumbled, and Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. You don’t get to be humble about this anymore,” he says, giving Steve’s thigh a little warning tap. “Now that I’ve seen what you can do, there ain’t no downplaying allowed anymore, you got it?”
He flashes Steve a grin to let him know he’s joking, and takes in Steve’s face-- cheeks stained with a blush. Eyes downcast, and lips quirked up into a pleased smile he’s trying not to let spread. And Bucky may not be an artist like he is, but he thinks Steve might be more stunning than any still life out there.
You can read the rest here
#in which bucky mayhaps becomes daddy#Steve Rogers#Bucky Barnes#stucky#stucky fic#mikey scrawls#enchanted by you
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
There is only one bed with red
I bet you thought I was never gonna respond to this one, huh, anon? Nope! I just had to rewrite it like five million times before I felt like it was actually not terrible. lol
Hope you enjoy this even though it’s been foreeeeeever.
---
“Well. Lookit that.”
You stared at the single available bed in the single available room, pretty immaculately kept.
“There’s only one bed,” said Red, leaning against the wall. “How unfortunate.”
You stared at it for a while, then looked back at him. He was flashing his gold tooth at you in a smug grin.
Nope.
“It’s fine,” you said. “I can sleep on the floor.”
His smile vanished.
“Hey,” he said, “hold on, sweetheart. I c’n sleep on the floor.”
Actually kind of nice of him to offer, but as much as he annoyed you… no. “It’s cool, I can do it.”
“Nah, it’s gonna make me feel like trash if I letcha sleep on the floor.”
“Well, ditto.”
He grinned. “Ooh, I gotta solution. How ‘bout we both sleep on the floor?”
You held in a laugh, trying your best to give him a deadpan look. Don’t laugh, don’t laugh….
He waggled his brows at you.
And you let out a snort.
You started to set your things down and move onto the floor but Red shoved you towards the bed. “No,” he said, “I don’ wanna feel like an asshole.”
“You are an asshole,” you said.
“Sure but I don’ wanna feel like one…!”
“OK,” you said, “fine.” Whatever, his loss. You climbed into the bed and got under the covers, and you turned a bit as Red lay down on the floor.
… Dammit.
You sighed. I’m going to regret this.
“Red,” you said.
He turned with an oddly soft smile. “Yeah, beautiful?”
Your face turned warm. His nicknames are more effective than they should be. “Just get in the stupid bed.”
“Oh?” A brow rose, and the soft smile was gone. “Feeling bonely?”
“Don’t,” you said, moving over. “You just look so pathetic on the floor, I can’t do it.”
“Sure, sure.” He moved the covers aside and slid under them with you. “You tell yerself that.”
“I will shove you back onto the floor, Red.”
He shut his mouth (figuratively speaking), and you shut your eyes. He was surprisingly warm for a skeleton, perhaps due to wearing a jacket all day. Since he didn’t have the jacket on, though, you were far more aware of the fact that he was literally just… bone. You could feel his actual spine… It was kind of weird, but not weird enough to keep you up. You were just glad he wasn’t getting handsy. Though the truth was that him getting touchy hadn’t been your main concern. In reality, you tried to avoid having to share a bed with anyone. There was a, um, bad habit of yours that people had informed you of.
But hopefully you wouldn’t do anything crazy tonight.
---
Red was awoken by the feeling of something lying across his whole body.
What the hell?
He was on his side, and he attempted to push it off, but it didn’t budge. Groggy and annoyed, he awkwardly twisted and wriggled until he was on his back and could see what the fuck it was….
It was you.
He squinted, thinking he might be insane, but yeah. It was you. You were lying on top of him. A bit awkwardly, one of your legs was pointing in the direction of your side of the bed, but your head was where the crook of his neck would be, and you were breathing softly.
Red’s face lit on fire instantly.
“Sweetheart?” he mumbled, even though he was pretty sure you couldn’t hear him. When had this happened? Had it happened in your sleep? Had you done this on purpose?
You sighed in your sleep.
Oh… oh my God.
What if she likes me?
Had you instinctively cuddled up to him in your sleep because you… liked him? Or… maybe you liked his smell, or the way lying on him felt… Red was a bit embarrassed to find that he felt giddy, but the giddiness overrode the embarrassment.
“Sweetheart,” he repeated softly, gently wrapping his arms around you. You snuggled closer and he felt his soul start to hum.
We’re… so close….
She’s so cute when she’s asleep….
“You are the most adorable thing,” he said. He knew you couldn’t hear. That was the nice part; he could say whatever he wanted. He started to readjust your stray leg with his own, and his face warmed up even more when you curled your leg around his. He let out a small sound of surprise.
“Baby, you’re uncooperative…. Hah….”
Not that he, uh, minded… having your legs like this….
“Aren’t you just the sweetest,” he purred, pulling you closer. His soul was picking up. While you were asleep he felt no need to maintain his tough guy persona, so he cooed. “Yer cute as hell.”
He nuzzled you, holding you close.
He never wanted to let go….
“Don’t worry,” he said softly, lifting one finger and stroking your cheek. “I’ll keep you safe.” He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling washing over his soul while the two of you were so near each other. “Jus’ stay right here… with me, yeah?”
One hand tangled in your hair and he sighed. It was so soft…. You moved closer to him, making a soft hum, and Red’s grin widened, his soul melting into a puddle.
This was the best night of his life.
—
When your mind started to barely lift out of its unconscious state, the first thing you noticed was that it did not feel like you were lying on the mattress.
The second thing you noticed was that a pair of arms were around you. What the… Red? Why was he…
Oh. Oh no.
I climbed on him in my sleep, didn’t I?
It was a weird habit you’d never would’ve known about were it not for the unlucky victims who had told you about it. You had never woken up on top of someone before— you always woke up next to the person in the morning, in the same spot where you’d fallen asleep, and then they would tell you about how they’d woken up in the dead of night to find your entire body lying on top of them. It also apparently took a lot of effort to push you off, especially since attempts would usually result in you immediately trying to climb back onto them.
Red, uh, didn’t seem to be making any attempts to push you off, though.
“Hah, sweetie… You look so stupid when yer asleep….”
Did he know you were awake? Judging from his low volume, you were pretty sure that no, he didn’t.
His finger wiped the side of your mouth and then immediately withdrew, and you heard him laughing as quietly as possible. Yep, he was trying not to wake you up.
“Gross!” he whispered, and you heard the sound of his hand brushing against the fabric of, presumably, his clothes. “You drool in your sleep!”
More quiet laughter. If you blushed visibly you’d give yourself away, so you just buried your face in his collarbone. Embarrassing.
“... Ah… doll….”
A hand was gently placed on your back.
“I wish we could do this all the time,” he said softly. If he thought you were asleep he wasn’t saying this to flirt with you.
He meant it, then?
“Why’ve you gotta be so damn adorable, huh? M… My soul’s going crazy over here….”
A hand ran through your hair. He was being unusually gentle….
“Then again, that happens a lot when I’m with you.”
Your face got hotter; thank goodness he couldn’t see it from this angle.
His teeth pressed against your forehead. A kiss?
“I wish… I had the guts tah tell ya how I feel.”
Huh? Not… not like… romantically, right?
“You make me feel amazing. Like… really amazing, I… I dunno how t’put it in words cuz I’m real bad with words. S’why I can’ bring myself to tell you, I wanna tell you but every time I open my goddamn mouth all I say is somethin’ suggestive.”
Some silence. Should you tell him that you were awake? You were basically eavesdropping right now.
But at the same time…
“‘N, admittedly… I wish I was good fer you. Which I’m not, I’m… I’m fuckin’ me.”
Why did your heart suddenly ache?
“I’m lazy, I’m sleazy, I dress stupid, I act stupid, I can’t communicate like an adult to save my damn life…. An’ I… I’ve done a lotta bad things. Y… ya should get with some sweet guy who’s responsible ‘n shit.” He muttered: “Lookit me, fuckin’ swearing while I’m tryna talk about my feeli— Fantastic, I did it twice.”
It took all the effort you had to not giggle.
“I wish I was good for you. Ah, sweetie, I’d… I’d take such good care of you, I really would. Or, I’d try. Tryin’ is… really all I could do, t’be honest.”
Trying is all anyone can do.
“... Too bad I suck, yeah?”
Your heart ached again. Red didn’t suck, he was a good guy…. It was probably best to tell him that you were awake before he spilled any more personal information.
“You don’t suck,” you mumbled, turning your head.
“‘M sorry, dollface, did I wake you up with my rambling? I’ll be quiet.”
“No, I’ve been awake for a while.”
His whole body froze up.
“... Ya have?”
“Yeah.”
“H… How much of what I was just saying did you—“
“All of it.”
There was a long, awkward silence.
“I’m sorry,” you said, “I should’ve said something—“
“Fuck,” he said, and you lifted your head. His eye sockets were squeezed shut.
“No, Red, it’s OK—“
“No it’s not, I’ve been makin’ a sappy ass outta myself an’ now I prob’ly made you feel guilty—“
“You didn’t make me feel guilty—“
“Jus’ please don’t say that we should go on a date cuz I know you’re only doing it to make me feel better ‘bout myself—“
“Shut up, Red.”
His eye sockets opened and he looked down at you. You could see the two red lights standing out in the darkness. “... Huh?”
“Stop wallowing in self-hatred and listen to me.”
He said nothing. You would take that as cooperation.
OK, he was listening. So, uh… what should you say?
You actually didn’t know.
So you just kissed him.
Initially he just froze up, but after a moment his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you close, kissing back. W… Wow, this feels really good…. You moved into a better position and felt your hair spill down onto him.
“Sorry,” you said as the kiss parted.
“Sorry?” Red cupped the back of your head and gave you a second fervent kiss. “What the hell for? Ya just kissed me.”
“My hair is kinda touching you.”
“Oh no,” he said in monotone, “how awful. Kiss ruined.”
You snickered and leaned down to press your forehead against his. He looked up at you with fuzzy eyelights.
“I don’ deserve your love,” he said quietly. You smiled back.
“Nobody deserves love, Sans. That’s why it’s so special when someone loves us anyway.”
“You deserve love,” he said, “from somebody better than me.”
“That’s awfully vague.” You kissed his cheek. “And besides, I don’t want love from this person you call ‘somebody better than me.’”
He smiled.
“I want love from you.”
“Hah,” he said, and you saw his eyelights change… They were like hearts now. “Sweetheart, trust me, you already have all my love.”
Your face heated up. “That’s really romantic,” you told him.
“... It is?”
A giggle escaped you. “Yes, Sans.”
You kissed his nasal ridge.
“So?” you said with a smile. “You gonna ask me out or not?”
His eyelights got fuzzy again. “Ya think maybe we could go out sometime, beautiful?”
After kissing his cheek, you said, “I’d love that.”
“So, uh…” He looked at the way you two were positioned. “You think… we could do this more?”
“Absolutely.”
You lay your head down on his ribcage.
“We should fall back asleep,” you told him.
“Sure thing, angel.”
Drifting off took no time at all.
#such a classic trope#kinda tempted to do it with our boy regular sans too#I feel like the awkwardness of it would be really emphasized#or the 'oh no I like them' thing that this trope often leads to#I dunno#fanfic#fanfiction#reader-insert#self-insert#x reader#sans x reader#fell sans x reader#underfell#fluff
289 notes
·
View notes
Text
Phantom Pains
TW: Blood/severe injury/loss of limb/mentions of suicide
Sparring was a very common pastime at Evernight Castle. If they weren't out on an errand or mission given by Salem, then her followers may as well be keeping sharp in their skills.
Watts preferred to work in his lab, designing weapons and other useful tools.
Emerald and Mercury, being the youngest and seen only as Cinder's underlings usually only had one another to spar with.
Althea, having only recently risen in the ranks, still trained with Tyrian, her former master and now partner.
Hazel, with his size and strength, typically wouldn't fight against any of his "teammates".
And then there were the Grimm. Salem kept various breeds of them penned up for the sole purpose of training, but only Hazel and Cinder ever liked to use them for practice.
However, ever since Salem had promoted Althea to her inner circle, the archer had felt the need to prove she was worthy of keeping the position. She had killed plenty of Grimm in her life, she'd gone to Beacon Academy for the God's Sakes. Killing the Grimm in her village had given her a spot in the damn school to begin with, to give her a chance to become a real huntress.
Although, ever since she'd fled the school and had been living on her own, isolated and answering to no one, she hadn't had as many opportunities to fight Grimm. She'd had to save her energy, because she never knew when she would eat next, so she just did her best to avoid the damn things completely.
But now that she had a purpose in her life again, it was time to get her head back in the game.
Tyrian kept her on her toes plenty when he was still her superior. Surprise attacks right and left, whether he leapt down from the rafters onto her or hid under her bed at night, the man had had her looking over her shoulder constantly.
Hazel was a behemoth that Althea had to beg to get him to spar with her and she was pretty sure he was holding back when he finally would give in.
Watts didn't really fight, at least not in a style that was compatible with Althea's, but when he needed to test out a new weapon she was happy to play guinea pig for him.
Cinder saw herself as "above" the rest of them, being a Maiden and she didn't like sharing her "disciples".
So Althea began using Grimm for practice. She realized how rusty she was against the creatures, but it was any skill; you never really forget it. She had forgotten just how good she was at it though. But damn it...she never knew when to quit.
Taking on two Beowolves was a little ballsy to do by yourself, but Althea wasn't exactly alone. Hazel and Tyrian had grown accustomed to watching her when she practiced killing Grimm, out of the way and behind the safety of the pillars that supported a balcony.
Tyrian, because he enjoyed the show and he was a little proud of himself for finding such a treasure as Althea.
Hazel, because God's, there wasn't anything else to do around the castle at the moment. And plus he couldn't deny, the woman had skill and watching her certainly wasn't boring. He glanced down at his scroll and frowned; her aura was getting far too low, and one Beowolf was still alive and kicking.
"She needs to stop." He glanced at Tyrian who looked almost mesmerized by his former disciple. "Her aura is almost gone. One of us should step in and finish it."
Tyrian waved the larger man off, not taking his eyes off the archer as she easily dodged the Beowolf's large paw as it swiped at her. "If she can't handle it then she will ask us for our help. Don't insult her abilities, Hazel."
But Hazel grumbled softly and reached for the dust crystals in his pockets. "You shouldn't overestimate her abilities either just because you've got a crush."
Tyrian's eyes flashed purple for a moment and his tail twitched. He growled to himself as he watched Rainart stab a couple of crystals into his biceps. "You just hate seeing people enjoy themselves, don't you?" The faunus sighed.
"No, just when it's you. You're not denying the crush either, I see." Hazel remarked.
Tyrian locked the man with a seething glare that would have made the average person shrivel up inside, but Hazel just scoffed. "Good, cause no one would believe you if you did deny it."
He turned and stabbed his arms with the lightning dust, wincing only slightly as it spread through veins. "Althea! You're done, I'm gonna help you!"
"I've almost got this!" She yelled before firing an ice-dust tipped arrow into the Beowolf's back legs, freezing it in its place. With a running start she used the Beowolf's back as a springboard to leap high into the air above it.
Her plan was to deliver the killing blow from above - a dagger right through the Grimms eye as she had spent her last arrow immobilizing it. She had just grabbed the hilt, began to twist in the air, when the Beowolf had reared up on its frozen back legs and its jaw came down on Althea, taking her right leg in its teeth before falling back down on all fours, slamming her against the floor with the full force of its body. Her aura broke in an emerald swirl and she went rolling across the chamber floor.
Most of her that is.
The two huntsmen were frozen in shock for a moment, gold and hazel eyes locked on Althea's motionless and bloodied body.
Hazel was the first to snap out of it, the gnashing of the Beowolfs teeth as it swallowed the limb it had just torn asunder. It had broken the ice around its back legs loose and was completely free as the giant of a man began to charge it head on.
When Tyrian began moving towards his fallen partner he didn't even realize it. His legs felt numb and yet they were still carrying him over to her crumpled, discarded body.
The blood was everywhere, splattered and smeared on the chamber floor in morbid patterns that the faunus usually found pleasure in.
The next thing Tyrian realized, he was running down the halls of Evernight, the dead weight of Althea bleeding out in his arms didn't slow him down in the slightest.
It didn't completely register in the scorpions brain that he was running to Watts's office until he was bursting through his door. It was just purely instinct. Automatic. Where else would he possibly ever go?
The Doctor was at his desk, bent over some new contraption he was working on like always. His head snapped up at the intrusion, annoyance written on his face until he fully registered the scene standing in his door.
Tyrian covered in blood, cradling Althea's pale form, showing no signs of life. Where her right leg had been, was nothing but a bloody stub.
"Help." It was the only word that left Tyrian's trembling lips, raspy and desperate.
"Get her on the table. NOW!" Watts was on his feet, stripping off his jacket and tie as he helped Tyrian carry Althea into the small adjoining room that had been converted into a meager OR. However Arthur hadn't dealt with such a serious trauma in a long time and he'd certainly had more equipment, more help. His mind was racing as he tried to mentally inventory what he had, what he could use to save Althea's life.
"What the fuck happened?" Arthur pulled on a pair of surgical gloves with a loud snap, his emerald eyes surveying the damage.
"She...she was fighting Beowolves and…"
"More than one?!"
"Her aura was low and we thought she could handle it…"
Arthur sighed harshly as he gathered gauze and began to try and stop the bleeding of Althea's remaining leg. "You promised you'd never scare me like this again!"
Tyrian could do nothing but stand and watch, his whole body beginning to tremble as he watched. He couldn't hear Watts yelling at him over the ringing in his ears.
"Tyrian! Tyrain, God dammit I need an extra set of hands!" Watts felt guilty for a fleeting moment as he tossed the box of latex gloves at the faunus. They bounced off his bloody chest but it did the job in snapping him back to reality.
It was bloody awful work getting Althea's leg to finally stop bleeding. Once Watts was satisfied with her vitals and felt she was stable, he moved her into the tiny recovery room. Hooked up to various machines that would start screaming if her pressure bottomed out.
So he gently led Tyrain into the adjoining shower and turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. They were both covered in Althea's blood and Watts was tempted to just throw his clothes away, burn them maybe. He had plenty of other clothes.
Watts automatically began to help Tyrain out of his stained jumpsuit and harness, and the faunus didn't resist in the least. His body was still gently trembling and Watts hoped that this incident wouldn't scar him too deeply. He didn't know what Salem might do if her best weapon was permanently damaged like this.
In the back of Arthur's mind, he was already planning the schematics of a replacement leg for Althea and oh Gods...someone was going to have to inform Salem about what happened. How would she plan to punish Althea for this? Because she surely would.
"One thing at a time…"
He unbraided Tyrian's hair, finding more sticky dried blood in it as well. Steam was beginning to spill out of the shower so he gently helped Tyrian under the water before Arthur got undressed himself and joined him, knowing that Tyrian was in no state to bathe himself.
For a good long moment the only sound was the hissing of the shower and Tyrian's occasional sniffle as he pulled himself back together and Watts scrubbed the blood out of his long hair.
"What did you mean earlier?" He finally asked, so softly that Arthur had to take a moment to be sure he had heard him correctly.
"About what?"
"When you said that she had promised to never scare you like this again, what the fuck did you mean?" Tyrian turned around to face Arthur.
The Doctor was quiet for a long while, staring into Tyrian's golden, begging eyes. There was never any easy or kind way of saying it.
"A few months ago, Althea tried to kill herself."
He watched his words take time to register completely on Tyrian's face. A choked off whimpering sound escaped his throat. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"She asked me not to. She didn't know what Salem might do to her if she found out. And now this…" Arthur sighed. "Gods why did she take on two Beowolves at once?"
" She tried to kill herself…" Tyrian murmurs gently and Arthur could tell that he was on the verge of losing it all over again.
So Arthur pulled him close against his chest and let him.
Everything was fuzzy. Her head, her vision, even her body felt fuzzy and disconnected. And her leg...God's her leg….
"Don't move too much." Arthur's voice. Althea felt his hand gently stroke her forehead and she tried to make her eyes focus on his face.
"What...hap'n…"
"You had an...accident." Arthur sighed "Although that word doesn't seem appropriate for what happened...because it wasn't an accident was it?"
"I...I had it…" Her throat felt raw, everything ached except...why couldn't she feel her right leg?
"YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING." Arthur hadn't yelled at her like that in a long time. Althea was ashamed to admit that she flinched a little.
"Arthur…" Tyrian's voice.
"You lost your leg, Althea!" She may have heard a quiver in his voice that time. She wasn't totally sure.
"Guess that explains why I can't feel it." Althea couldn't remember a lot about the incident. She'd been twisting in the air one moment and the next she was waking up here. She vaguely remembered Tyrian rushing her through the castle.
"You were careless, reckless and for what? You promised you would never do something like this again." Arthur's voice was a little steadier now as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed.
"I promised I wouldn't hurt myself again." Althea hissed as she hoisted herself up in the bed a little more, her vision clearing enough to see how upset her partners were.
"And so you've gone and replaced it with reckless endangerment of yourself!" Arthur looked like he hadn't been sleeping. How long had she been unconscious?
"It wasn't like that." Althea wiped the sleepy gunk from her eyes as she got her bearings.
Tyrian was curled in a small chair by her bed, wrapped in a comforter. He looked just as tired and drained as Arthur. God's, what had she done?
"I should have stepped in sooner." Tyrian sighed. "Hazel, the sentimental giant, warned me. We knew her aura was low and…"
"You just didn't know when to stop." Arthur sighs. "Or you were hoping to get hurt."
"I wasn't trying to get hurt! Damn it!" Althea looked down at the bandaged stubb that had been her right leg and she swallowed the lump building in her throat.
"Don't worry, I'm already designing you a new one." Arthur sighs.
"Don't. I don't deserve it."
"Well you bloody well can't work for Salem on one leg, can you? And if you can't can't for Salem she'll kill you." Arthur stood up. "Although that's probably exactly what you want."
Althea watched him leave and she rested back in the hospital bed, keeping her tears at bay.
"I'm sorry." She finally murmurs to Tyrain. "I really didn't mean to…"
"I should have stopped you." Tyrian crawled out of the easy chair and up alongside her in the bed. "When your body got slammed into the ground I…"
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry I…" yeah keeping the tears at bay wasn't working very well.
No, Salem had not been happy but she hadn't been nearly as angry as Watts had expected her to be.
Thankfully Hazel had been the one to tell her for the very first time, right after he'd finished off the Beowolf. Although, who the hell knew? She could act so calm and collected before the storm finally hit.
Watts had nearly had a heart attack one night when he'd gone in to bring Althea some dinner and Salem was right there, sitting at the foot of her bed and talking with her. It was an odd sight to say the least: a tall, ancient and immortal being just sitting there in the tiny recovery room. So out of place and somehow so horrifying.
Apparently Salem had wanted to see how Althea was doing with her own eyes and it hadn't looked like she'd gone had hurt the injured woman in any way. Perhaps Salem would see the loss of leg as enough punishment and leave it at that.
Tyrian hadn't left Althea's side once, getting her what she needed and Althea had started reading to him a lot to pass the time. Thankfully Salem hadn't sent him away on any missions. Arthur wasn't sure if the faunus would have been able to concentrate if she had.
Recovery was not going to be easy. Arthur had drawn the perfect schematics for a new leg and he had been coming and going from Evernight to trade for some of the parts he would need.
Althea's phantom pains had started and were becoming almost unbearable. A mirror method had helped, but Arthur hoped that a new leg would do more good. Althea's balance on crutches was horrendous, and her ability to actually walk could be therapeutic in and of itself.
Finally when he was satisfied with his work on the prosthetic, he showed it to her. Shiney and silver with green accents along the joints and toes and a small "W" engraved on the upper thigh. Watts always left his signature on what he created in one way or another.
"The good doctor does such wonderful work doesn't he?" Tyrian mused as he looked the new limb over, his own shiney tail clicking behind him.
Arthur smirked softly, he certainly didn't mind having his ego stroked.
"I would have had this done sooner if you hadn't lost the leg above the joint." Watts sighs.
"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Althea chuckles dryly.
"There won't be a next time." Watts says firmly as he prepped the stubb of her leg. "Right?"
Althea smirked down at him and nodded gently.
"Don't you dare ever scare us like this again. I mean it."
#rwby#tyrian callows#arthur watts#althea lynch#Nuts&Volts&Arrows#oneshot#I FINALLY FINISHED IT FUUUU#angst#lots of angst
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don’t Touch Her [hc]
OOOH OOH I LIKE THIS ONE! Thank you for the request anon! Who’s ready for some not so low-key possessive babes? 😈
Kuroo;
This dork is far from subtle and we all know it.
He’s also super corny when he wants to be, especially when you come to watch him at a match that he’s invited you to.
Every time he serves, he throws a wink your way or he’ll pucker his lips a little.
No, you aren’t dating yet, but he swears that if they make it to nationals, he’s coming back to confess to you before he graduates.
That’s still ways away, but he has invited you to nearly every practice, practice game, training camp, etc because he just wants to know that you support him even if you aren’t dating.
“Kinda stupid, if you ask me.” Yaku says bluntly, regarding a time that Kuroo was practically gloating about that you promised you would be present for the up coming training camp. “Why not just date already?”
“Gotta keep my head in the game, Yakult.”
“Was it in the game before you met her?” 💀 everybody reading Kuroo to filth.
The training camp comes up—everybody from the Fukurodani academy group + Karasuno is there ofc.
Considering Nekoma doesn’t have a manager, and Kuroo asked you to be there, you act as a temp manager, grabbing water bottles and towels for them when needed.
You really didn’t mind, you liked Kuroo as much as he liked you.
So you’re out filling water bottles and stuff when some dude from Shinzen approaches you.
Homie just starts talking to you, asking how he’s never seen someone as beautiful as you around before. “Uh, I’m just here to help out...”
“Can I have your number?”
“No, I’m good.” You turn away from where you’re standing before trying to carry the bottles back when Kuroo pops his head out to see what’s taking you so long.
His hazel eyes go red when he sees someone from another school tailing a little too close to you.
“Hey, babe, need help carrying those?” His voice comes out like grinding metal as he locks eyes with the Shinzen player and while he is smiling and holding his arms open to you for refuge, you don’t miss the absolutely threat lacing his words.
“If you don’t mind.” However, your voice is sweet and calm and enough to tear him away from the death glare he was giving to the other player.
Kuroo grabs the caddy with the bottles easily with one arm, his free hand dropping to wrap around your shoulder firmly.
“Do I need to keep you locked up or something?” He asks jokingly, looking down at you. There’s a humorous lilt in his voice though the underlying threat is present.
“No?”
“But I can’t have anyone looking at my girl when I can’t come and rescue her.”
“Maybe you should actually ask me out first.”
“Nah, we’re skipping all that; you’re mine.”
Iwaizumi;
Continuation from Pining After You 😈
Even after the two of you openly admitted to your feelings, Iwaizumi hasn’t made the move yet.
Sure, you’ve gone on a couple dates and you’re still showing up to all the games and practices, but he’s too chickenshit to actually ask you to be his girlfriend.
Everyone at Seijoh knows that you’re his.
The problem is when you’re spectating, you’re a sitting duck. Sitting alone in the bleachers, laughing at the antics of your best friends are staring at Iwa with little hearts in your eyes.
What other schools see is a cute girl sitting all by herself with no one to defend you.
Not that you needed defending—being friends with the meme team allowed you to develop a thick skin.
The first time it ever happened was during the inter high qualifiers, right when Karasuno entered the gym for their match after you’d already wished your mans and your besties good luck.
Tanaka and Noya hone in on you, wondering when Aoba Johsai got a hot manager. Even though you’re literally not but they’re convinced.
They try cornering you, asking questions about when you became the manager after the match, even though they loss. They attribute their win to your presence.
“I’m not the manager—“
“Really? Then what’s the most beautiful girl in Aoba Johsai doing at a volleyball tournament?”
Really, it should have been obvious because why else would you be there if you weren’t the manager?
Iwaizumi walks out to see you cornered by the two second years, though despite your position, you look relatively calm. Still, his blood is boiling seeing them surrounding you.
“Babe.” Is all he says—his voice strained and heavy and hot. At the use of the pet name, you smile brightly, a sight that Noya and Tanaka would be fawning over if they weren’t fearing over the steam billowing off of Iwaizumi’s hair.
He says nothing else before storming over to you and unceremoniously tucking his arms just under your bottom and throwing you over his shoulder.
Remember how he wanted to pick you up? He got to pick you up.
“Sorry boys, I’m taken!” You call out, waving to the Karasuno second years, even though you’re suspended upside down.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” He sighs out when he finally puts you down, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
Akaashi;
This poor boy don’t know how to act when you show up to his games.
He’s liked you for as long as he can remember, but it never dawns on him that you come to watch him because you like him too.
Shit everyone in the goddamn prefecture knows about the two of you.
So leave it to the master instigator of Tokyo and his idiot best friend to try to fINALLY get you two together. Dammit Kuroo and Bokuto.
You’re out at the game, hanging with a couple friends and trying to be inconspicuous while you’re there to watch Akaashi. It’s Nekoma vs. Fukurodani.
When Nekoma arrives at the gym, Kuroo locks eyes with Bokuto, to which the latter captain gestures to an unknowing you. These conniving little fucks.
So Kuroo approaches you and confirms your identity—how or why he knew you was unknown. But Akaashi sees the two of you taking, sees the way that Kuroo is pulling all the stops.
He sees the way Kuroo is making you smile and laugh and the setter sees nothing but green. Akaashi’s trying to focus on anything else but the way Kuroo points to you when he spikes. You may have a huge crush on Akaashi, but you can’t help but feel flustered at the open flirting.
Akaashi doesn’t even realize that Bokuto hasn’t gone into emo mode once, not even when they lose the first set. If anyone’s in emo mode, it’s Akaashi.
He can’t think straight when all he sees and hears is the way you and Kuroo are interacting so informally, so familiar.
After losing the second set as well, Akaashi’s had enough, storming out of the gym without even thanking Nekoma for the game.
Without a second thought, you go after him, leaving behind your friends and both teams, never seeing the high five that Kuroo and Bokuto share knowing their plan worked.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the gym kissing Kuroo goodbye?”
“Who?” The irony is not lost on him when you chirp like an owl. “Akaashi...that dude? Kuroo? He told me him and Bokuto were planning on forcing you to talk to me cause you have a crush on me.”
Ohfuck.
“Which of course I went along with. I like you too.” Ohfuckohfuckohfuck, his heart is about to explode. Unsure of what to do next, he just kinda stands there, prompting you to take the initiative and wrap your arms around his neck, your noses barely touching. “I like you.” You repeat.
“Thank god, I was ready to punch him.” Akaashi’s voice is a mix between breathless and needy before his hands settled at your waist, bringing you the slightest bit closer to finally touch his lips to yours.
“That’s kinda hot.” You admit when you finally pull away.
“Nobody gets to flirt with my girl.”
Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?
Send in requests!
While you’re here, if you guys like my writing please check out a new mini-series I started! Link is right here
#haikyuu!! imagine#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu!! headcanons#haikyuu!!#tetsurou kuroo x reader#kuroo#hq kuroo#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsurou#iwaizumi imagine#iwaizumi headcanons#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi x reader#hajime iwaizumi#akaashi x reader#akaashi keiji#akaashi hcs#akaashi headcanons#akaashi imagine#keiji akaashi#samwrights
943 notes
·
View notes
Text
To Be So Lonely
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Midoriya Izuku
Warnings: soft shit and aggressive flirting
Word Count: 2756 words
{0.6} Pretty Reckless
“I'll say that you were so beautiful, you made me do ridiculous, reckless things.”
― Kass Morgan
I Z U K U
When Izuku came to, the first thing he noticed was how fucking bright everything was. He wasn’t in the hospital (no, he’s too poor for that) but in the locker room at the venue.
And why was it bright?
Aizawa was shining a fucking flashlight directly into Izuku’s eyes with a pissed off but focused expression on his face.
Oh shit.
“Nice of you to join us, problem child.”
Izuku groaned, his nose wrinkling in distaste as his head began to pound. “What’s going on? Why are you here, Uncle Shota?”
Aizawa scoffed, pocketing his flashlight as he glanced at Shinsou. “He’s fine. He has a mild concussion and a split lip, but they should heal up in a couple days.”
“Thanks, dad.” Shinsou mumbled, looking relieved.
Izuku, still hopelessly confused, huffed loudly and earned looks from both betas. “Stop acting like I’m not here!”
Aizawa’ s eye twitched as he looked down at Izuku. “You’ve been unconscious for five hours, problem child. The tournament is over and most of your team had classes to attend.”
Five hours?
Jesus.
“That alpha knocked you on your ass.”
Aizawa scoffed, delivering a harsh slap to the back of Shinsou’s head. “Hush, brat. I’m sure that alpha has much worse injuries.”
Izuku swallowed thickly, sitting up and rubbing his temple.
The last thing I remember is…
The small omega froze, his cheeks flushing as the fuzzy memory of locking eyes with a certain Bakugou Katsuki filled his brain. The alpha looked smug, proud, and slightly out of breath.
He was watching Izuku.
That shouldn’t have made Izuku’s inner omega purr.
“Come on, problem child.”
Izuku winced as Aizawa helped him upright. His head pounded and the room tilted slightly as the older beta supported his weight.
His gaze focused on Toshinori, who was leaning on his cane. His mentor looked proud yet slightly concerned. It wasn’t too surprising of a mix, but Izuku is sure that Aizawa yelled at his teacher.
Toshinori smiled lightly, ignoring the look of distaste from Aizawa. “You did well, Midoriya. Excellent fight.”
Izuku grinned. “Yeah? I hope I made Endeavor choke on his words.”
“About that…” Toshinori cleared his throat. “Young Bakugou came by earlier.”
The small omega froze, his grin quickly replaced by a scowl. “What did he want? Another boost for his fragile ego?”
Shinsou snickered loudly, looking absolutely amused in his kitten hoodie. A hoodie that was part of a matching set Hisashi had gotten him and Aizawa for Christmas. “He’s waiting for us in the hallway. He’s insisting on seeing you.”
Izuku blinked multiple times, unsure. “You’re joking, right?”
“He’s not.” Aizawa huffed, guiding Izuku forward.
Kill me now.
Please.
Izuku walked steadily towards the door, his face a rosy shade of pink as he processed the information.
“He’s an ass.” Aizawa murmured bluntly, his voice hushed. “But he seemed like he was actually concerned.”
The small omega sighed. “He’s such a fucking pain.”
Shinsou chuckled, following them to the door. “I agree, but is that how you approach a potential mate? He-“
“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Izuku warned, earning a chuckle from Aizawa.
Instead of continuing his onslaught of teasing, Shinsou smirked and opened the ugly blue door in front of them. Familiar caramel pheromones attacked Izuku’s senses, making his heart-rate speed up in his chest.
Kacchan was leaning against the wall in front of the door.
The older alpha was obviously fresh out of the shower. His ash-blonde hair was less spiky than before and his black muscle shirt had water droplets on it. His biceps had a few fresh bruises and he had a cut on his brow.
And when his red eyes met Izuku’s, his face lit up.
Kacchan hid it well, though.
“You look like shit.”
Izuku scoffed, narrowing his eyes at the smirking alpha. “You’re one to talk. What are you doing here?”
Kacchan shrugged, holding up Izuku’s gym bag. “I figured you’d need help getting out of here. I doubt that two insomniacs and an old has-been would be enough to deal with your pissy attitude.”
“I think that they’re more than capable.”
Aizawa, however, huffed from beside Izuku. “Actually, you could help him to the car. I’m too fucking old to deal with him.”
Izuku’s jaw dropped. “Shota? You-“
“It’d be my pleasure.” Kacchan smirked, slinging the gym bag over his shoulder.
Before Izuku can even blink, Aizawa basically handed him over to the blond alpha. Out of the corner of his eyes, the small omega noticed Shinsou and Toshinori fist-bump each other.
What the-
“Hold on tight, Deku.”
Izuku blanched as Kacchan leaned in close. “W-wait, Kacchan. What are you- AH!”
The smug alpha easily hooked his arms underneath Izuku’s body and lifted him bridal style. Kacchan did it with impeccable ease, but the small omega squeaked in fear nonetheless less.
“Put me down.” Izuku squeaked, clinging to the alpha’s shoulders.
Kacchan huffed. “Nope. Idiots with concussions don’t get the satisfaction of walking. Besides, your friends think it’s funny.”
Sure enough, Shinsou was laughing with Toshinori. Aizawa, who should’ve been on Izuku’s side, also looked mildly amused.
Izuku swallowed, his skin a flushed crimson color. “If you don’t put me down, I’ll punch you as hard as I can.”
“And risk falling? Not likely.”
He called my bluff…..
God-dammit.
Izuku scoffed and crossed his arms, allowing Kacchan to carry him down the hallway. Despite his pouting, Izuku’s inner omega was absolutely ecstatic with the situation and nearly purring with delight.
After all, a strong and stupidly attractive alpha was carrying Izuku as if he weighed nothing at all.
And he smells nice.
“You’re mumbling again, nerd.”
Izuku froze, looking up at the alpha in clear surprise. “Sorry. I don’t realize that I’m doing it half the time..”
Kacchan shrugged, red eyes flickering to Izuku’s face for a second before focusing in front of them again. “Don’t apologize. I find it cute, even if it’s incredibly annoying to hear.”
Cute?
Did he just-
“I’m also glad that you think I smell nice.”
Izuku squeaked, hiding his face in obvious embarrassment as the alpha smirked down at him. “Why are you doing this? Do you enjoy making fun of me?”
Kacchan grinned, humming lowly as they approached the exit. “I don’t need a fucking reason, Deku. If you’re going to be my rival then you need to be in your best condition. I can’t trust extras to take care of you.”
“Extras?” Izuku repeated, his eyebrows furrowed.
The alpha scoffed, sounding annoyed. “Focus, shitty nerd! Your extras obviously don’t know jack-shit about taking care of you!”
Izuku blinked multiple times, staring up at the alpha as if he was losing his mind. “You do realize that this isn’t how rivals interact, right? You don’t see Endeavor carrying All Might around.”
“I’ll fucking drop you right now, Deku.” Kacchan threatened, his tone dead-serious.
The small omega snickered, gingerly poking the alpha’s jaw. “I wonder what your boss would think of you carrying me around like this?”
Kacchan scoffed, turning slightly to look behind them. “Open the fucking door, Mind-Fuck! Shitty Deku’s fucking heavy!”
“No one told you to carry him, Bakugou.”
“I had no choice. The fucking idiot obviously can’t do it himself.”
“Right. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Izuku laughed at their interaction, shivering slightly as the wind nipped at his skin. Kacchan flushed at the sound, but didn’t comment on it as they walked outside. The moon had just risen, showing just how long Izuku had been unconscious.
Aizawa came up from behind them, making Izuku flinch.
“Our car is just up ahead. We’ll get him home.”
Kacchan huffed, acknowledging the older beta. “Lead the way. I don’t want to hold this idiot more than I have to.”
Izuku cocked his head to the side. “Or you could let me walk?”
“You have a fucking concussion, idiot.”
The small omega raised an eyebrow. “So you would carry all your rivals like this if they had a concussion?”
Kacchan glared down at him. “I will throw you in front of a moving car. Don’t fucking test me, Deku.”
Liar.
Izuku hummed quietly and looked around them in an attempt to gauge their surroundings. Even though it was dark, Mustafu was lit up by soft street-lights and the headlights of passing cars.
“Here we are. Thanks for the help, brat.”
Kacchan stiffened at Shota’s word, his lips switching from a frown to a scowl. “I’m not a fucking brat.”
Shota ignored him, unlocking the car and glancing at Hitoshi with narrowed eyes. “I’ll take him home. You drop Yagi off before joining us. Understand?”
“Yes, dad.”
Kacchan, who was still pouting over being called a brat (which he totally is, by the way) immediately snapped to attention. “Did you just call him dad? I thought your last name was Shinsou?”
Hitoshi smirked, shrugging. “I’m adopted. My dads were close friends with my birth parents so they let me keep the name.”
“Fucking figures.” Kacchan huffed, looking down at Izuku.
Izuku blushed under his gaze and cleared his throat. “You can put me down now, Kacchan. The car’s right there.”
The alpha’s eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”
“Don’t call me Deku.” Izuku countered, his green eyes sharp.
Kacchan narrowed his eyes. “Why the fuck does it bother you so much that I call you that? It literally means ‘useless’.”
Izuku gave the alpha a pointed look. “Only friends and close family get to call me that. You’re neither. Can you put me down now?”
The red-eyed alpha studied him for a few seconds before sighing and looking away from him. For a second, Kacchan actually looked as if he was slightly affected by Izuku’s poor choice of words.
But Izuku knows better.
Kacchan leaned down and paced Izuku’s feet on the ground. “Get in the car, shitty nerd.”
Izuku hummed, detaching himself from the alpha’s shoulders. His inner omega whined at the loss of contact, but Izuku buried the feeling deep inside his brain. He can’t be so attached to Kacchan already.
The small omega climbed into the backseat of Shota’s car, his muscles aching slightly as he moved.
“One last thing, though.”
Izuku froze, his body halfway hanging out of the vehicle.
Kacchan placed a hand on the roof of the car and leaned incredibly close to Izuku. His ruby-red eyes studied the omega’s face as their noses gently made contact. Izuku’s breathing immediately hitched.
After a few seconds, Kacchan smirked.
“I like your scent, too. I’ll see you tomorrow, Deku.”
Izuku squeaked in surprise as Kacchan gently pushed his body the rest of the way into the vehicle. His face felt incredibly hot and it felt like his brain itself was very much short-circuiting.
Kacchan grinned smugly and shut the door.
He likes my scent?
K A T S U K I
“That was gross to watch.”
Katsuki snapped out of his daze and turned to glare at the beta next to him. Shinsou and Toshinori had knowing grins on their faces, which immediately made the alpha flush with embarrassment.
Shinsou snickered at Katsuki’s expression. “Denki was right. I thought that he was over-exaggerating when he said you were head-over-heels.”
Katsuki bristled. “What the fuck was Dunce-Face telling you?!”
“Not much. Your reaction told me more, though.”
The red-eyed alpha scoffed loudly as he turned to walk away. Before he did, though, Katsuki glanced back at Toshinori.
The older beta hadn’t said so much as a word to him in the last few hours they’ve interacted. Toshinori looked a little sick himself, but Katsuki thought that it was incredibly weird that he hadn’t said anything about the situation.
“I have a question for you, All Might.”
Toshinori blinked in surprise at Katsuki’s gentle tone. “I thought that you might. You look troubled, young Bakugou.”
Katsuki swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to watch Deku’s car pull out of the parking lot. “You chose an omega as your successor after years of saying that you didn't plan on choosing one.”
“So you’re wondering what changed my mind?”
Obviously, you old fuck.
Katsuki swallowed his words. “That’s exactly what I’m confused about. You had so many different options that weren’t omegas.”
Toshinori hummed, adjusting his cane as he studied Katsuki. “Izuku came to see me a little over a year ago for self-defense classes. He was working two jobs and Shota had been worried that he'd be mugged.”
“My dad calls Izuku his ‘problem child’.” Shinsou murmured, his tone light and airy.
Problem child?
That fits.
Katsuki’s mouth twitched as he fought the urge to smirk fondly. “So what changed, All Might?”
Toshinori sighed, his blue eyes suddenly full of sadness. “I had one of my older pupils spar with him. He was an alpha, but I wanted to see where Izuku was to begin with.”
“Did he get his ass kicked?”
Shinsou snorted at Katsuki’s question. “Not really. Both of my dads were underground boxers, so Izuku had picked up a little bit.”
Toshinori laughed with him, but his eyes still looked sad. “He showed a lot of resolve when it came to fighting. As his lessons continued, he started to get a lot of courting requests from my other students.”
Katsuki growled at that, making the betas chuckle some more.
“He rejected each and every one.” Toshinori continued, smiling. “He said that he didn’t want an alpha's protection and strived to defeat every single one of my students.”
Shinsou nodded, his tired eyes still studying Katsuki. “It was after that when Toshinori came by to talk to my dads and-“
He stopped.
“And?” Katsuki murmured, narrowing his eyes.
Shinsou swallowed thickly, blinking multiple times to snap out of his daze. “Nobody. Toshinori saw potential in Izuku and offered an easier way for him to make money.”
Toshinori was silent.
What the fuck are they being so secretive about?
Katsuki bit his tongue and scowled. “So you’re using him to make money? That’s a new low, All Might.”
“I don’t profit from this.”
That was enough to make Katsuki freeze.
Katsuki’s scowl disappeared as he studied the beta, his ruby-red eyes narrowed. “Every manager gets some of the profit from their fighter. But you’ve been doing this shit-show for free?”
Toshinori nodded. “I have more than enough money. Izuku needs the funds more than I do, and I figured it was fair since it’s his body on the line.”
“Why does he need money so bad?”
His words were greeted with silence.
Katsuki growled, clenching his fist. “Don’t clam up now! You can’t just tell me only part of the goddamn story!”
“It’s not our place.” Shinsou snapped, his voice suddenly ice-cold.
It gave Katsuki whiplash.
Shinsou huffed, crossing his arms as annoyance came off of him in waves. “All you need to know is that everyone involved knows that Izuku can handle this. Just because he’s an omega doesn’t make him weak, Bakugou.”
“You’re not even the tiniest bit worried?!” Katsuki snapped, his growls slightly louder than before.
The purple-haired beta glared at him.
“Of course we are!”
Shinsou’s voice echoed in the empty parking lot. “But Izuku is going to do what he wants, and we’re not letting him do it by himself.”
Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to respond. His inner alpha was furious that Izuku’s friends and family seemed okay with his reckless need to sacrifice himself. Honestly, Katsuki isn’t even sure why he cares so much.
It was all so confusing.
Shinsou finally broke the staring contest, his shoulders slumping forward. “Look. Out of all the bonehead alphas that are interested in Izuku, I think you stand the best possible chance at knowing him.”
“I’m not fucking inter-“
The beta cut him off, his eyes sharp. “Stop fucking lying to yourself. It’s painfully fucking obvious to everyone why you’re so hung up on Izuku’s behavior.”
Katsuki huffed, shutting his mouth.
“Like I was saying,” Shinsou looked annoyed. “The only way that you’re going to understand is if you ask Izuku. Nobody is telling you his story, Bakugou.”
Why are they making this secret out to be such a huge thing?
Katsuki swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw in an attempt to keep his temper in check. “Fine. I’ll fucking figure out exactly what that shitty Deku is hiding, Eye-Bags. I don’t need your shitty help.”
Shinsou grinned, sharing a glance with Toshinori.
“I didn’t think that you would.”
#bakudeku#bakudeku fan fiction#alpha/beta/omega verse#alpha bakugou#omega deku#boxer au#they're gay your honor#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x midoriya#bnha#mha
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Really-?"
"Really, sorry it had to be this way-- but your 80s fashion is a lost cause." Scott smirked as his brother threw his hands up cursing the sky-his brother he hadn't seen in eight years looked not even a day older. Then again the whole world was well... new... They themselves lost thirty years was it? It was 2023, last he checked it was 1993. Erik really needed to talk to his child about opening up multiverse, this was just yet another life altering thing for the X-Men. In light of their new decade, Scott and Alex had decied to have a Summers day. Just them exploring what this new world had to offer, Brotherly bonding and all.
Also because Alex really needed a new wardrobe. Not because of the early 80s fashion -although that didn't help- but because he didn't exactly have anything other then what he been wearing. No one thought Alexander Summers would be coming back. So keeping all his things wasn't exactly thought of, especially not clothing. This was why the blond was wearing a tight cheaply made red shirt with a large spider like logo. It was the first thing they found off a street vender and Alex was despreate for something that was his that didn't have a gaint cosmic burnt hole on it. It toke them all of a hour to learn who 'spider-man' was and for the summers brothers to debate if this was a dumb kid with too much time or a spider mutant hidding eight eyes behind that wide lens mask and not even to touch the topic for where exactly a mutant spider kid would make webs from. Scott and Alex were suddenly happy to have deadly blast from eyes and chest vs- well -the alternative.
"Ok, but from our very informative cultural experince today-"
"We went to three different malls and found out there is now seventy-five types of poptarts-" Scott shook the shoping bag of seven of said new flavors because neither could agree on fruit ones or chocolate ones. Fruit flavors were obviously superior but Scott will have to argue his stance more later.
"Informative cultural experince- wearing 80s and 90s fashion is 'cool' and 'retro'."
"Sure. Because 'cool' and 'retro' also means looking like a suburban dad that needed to get a hair cut like thirty eight years ago-" the younger couldn't help but snort as the blond looked at him like he suggested murder.
"Don't even joke about that."
Scott couldn't help but to laugh- God, when was the last time his arguments had been over something as dumb as poptarts and bad hair styles and not the risking of lives. When had he last felt like the world wasn't ending..? Scott had been a angsty teen but even then his brother could make him loosen up the edgey teen agnst and laugh. He missed Alex... Of course he knew he missed his sibling but he missed Alex- Alex who pulled him out of the foster system the second he could, Alex who decied to go to college just because there was a chance he could provide a better life for them both, Alex who despite losing his parents the moment Scott did turned to trying to comfort his crying sibling other then dealing with his own grief.
"It's good to have you back. It just wasn't the same without you. I didn't- I just... I missed you." The young summers struggled to keep deeper emotions down. He already had his cry session. Clutching to Alex sobbing like he did as a young kid when Alex showed up at his foster home. Not caring who saw in that moment. Just so scared to let go, like Alex would disappear again the moment he let go. Scott lost everything- everything disappeared on him. His parents, Alex, Jean... God he was glad Peter and Logan wasn't there to witness Scott's whole demeanor break down in seconds. Like he needed to be reminded later on how serious, stubborn and headstrong Scott sobbed into his brother's jacket like a five year old.
"Scotty-"
For Alex not a moment passed by. He blasted the alien looking fucker and then and then he woke up to Raven wide eyed looking at him like she seen a ghost. When he learned that second of nothingness was actually eight years- well Alexander set to making up lost time real fast. Starting with hugging the hell out of his brother and apologize through his own tears. He promised he wouldn't leave Scott, not after their parents and well... Alexander had failed. He left Scott alone. Add it to the list of things Alex has managed to fuck up.
"I'm so sorry... I never wanted to leave you alone. I never wanted you to have to deal with more loss-
"Please don't. Not again- Just don't go blasting at highly explosive high tech machinery. Just.. stay here with me... And next time Charles says don't do something, don't." He gave his brother a pointed look. Even with the red sunglasses keeping himself from blasting everything on sight, Scott's 'stop fucking up' look was on point.
Alex couldn't help but smile. Scott really had grown, huh? It sucked it was without him. But, he was proud. Scott was tough, tougher then Alex ever was. "Course. I don't plan on going anywhere any time soon. Besides- obviously I have to reteach you a thing or two if you really believe fruit jelly poptarts are better then any of the chocolate ones-"
"How the fuck does Hank handle you?"
"Roughly. Didn't you see the claw marks-?"
Alex cackled like the evil shit he was as Scott choked on air. God fucking dammit, he swore the moment he had a pair of sissors someone's precious gold locks were being snipped.
#time to earn my ask#I like to pretend I can write#just pretend with me for my ego#alex summers#xmen#hank mccoy#xmen apocalypse#alexander summers#beast#havoc#scott summers#scott#summers brothers#jean grey#logan howlett#erik lehnsherr#charles xavier#mcsummers#xmen halex#Alex is a asshole#but we all knew that#brotherly feels
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)
Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67 @amazingiam00 @kalliravenne @indecisive20something @2musiclover2 @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock @wingedcatninja @arvit
Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!
A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE
FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU
So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?
Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!
Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...
If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.
I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.
Aw, Sammy...
"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T
FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.
A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.
“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.
Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit
At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.
“Bull” oop-
Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.
AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN
Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.
Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?
Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?
That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.
Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.
Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.
How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.
Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?
“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.
Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.
Go Grandpa Exposition, go!
Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!
OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.
Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!
‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.
Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.
AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?
“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?
Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...
Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp
OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY
“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.
So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?
*carefully places death flag on Roy*
Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?
That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?
*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.
Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?
Daddy Negan’s journal is a e s t h e t i q u e .
I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.
At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*
*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*
True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?
“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.
I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.
Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.
Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?
I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.
Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.
Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.
Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.
Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!
Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.
TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*
Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.
Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.
FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!
A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?
SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.
DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW
Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.
Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!
Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?
Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.
TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW
Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!
Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?
...
I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I
Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???
Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.
“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.
“I’m driving”
...
SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL
It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???
I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!
Six stars out of five!
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!
Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!
- Xue
#xue's supernatural dare#spn#supernatural#dean winchester#jensen ackles#sam winchester#jared paladecki#text#i had a really bad day today with my constant pain and aching from the chemo#but this really brought genuine smiles to my face!#what a good show#what a wonderful show#how the FUCK did they fuck it up later#well#i guess i'll find out when i get there lmao
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm bored so here is another theory. Be warned HERE BE SPOILERS!
Tacking on to the Elgar'nan theory here:
I discussed how I think the Evanuris were originally spirits. Well folks I have a personal head canon for my Inquisitor. Let me make this clear MY LAVELLAN INQUISITOR. NOT SAYING ANYONE HAS TO AGREE. I JUST USE THIS WHEN I PLAY THROUGH.
Ok? Ok.
Get your tinfoil hats on. This one is a doozy.
Lavellan is the spirit of sacrifice.
I hear people now like "that's ridiculous." Give me a chance to explain before you scroll on.
The Inquisitor is in the fade after being part of an explosion that kills EVERYONE ELSE. Even Corypheus takes a big ol L on this one.
Everyone is dead. What happens to Divine Justinia? A spirit that identifies with her so much it takes on her persona and memories. As does Compassion who becomes Cole. So we have a precedence for this.
Cole shows us that a spirit can take physical form. Justinia shows us that a spirit can fully believe they are that person. And the ancient elves just...these guys...looking at you Solas.
Var lath vir suledin!
I digress. So a spirit can not only retain the thoughts and memories of a person but take physical form.
"Then how come she doesn't know she is a spirit?" You ask?
Simple the spirit doesn't want to remember. It was a traumatic event. The person they identified with, quite possibly has been watching for some time, died a horrible death trying to save Justinia from that red lyrium blight infused ballsack. They basically ran into a situation any of us would have noped out of. All to try and save (for Lavellan) a woman that made no nevermind to them.
Instead our intrepid little elf is like "nah I should definitely fuck with that big scary guy and grab this clearly magical item."
In the immortal words of Sandal "BOOM!"
Everything goes to shit. Our lady elf wakes in the Fade with no memory how she got there. She recovers her memory later but not all of it. After the explosion there isn't shit until she wakes up.
Sus.
So she wakes up and spends the rest of her time throwing herself into one hellscape after another. Putting herself in constant danger and giving up whatever life they had before to save the world. Spoiler: and her fucking arm. Thank Solas. You lying manipulative beautiful bastard you.
Var lath vir suledin!
Speaking of that wolfish sex pistol...he has some...odd dialouge.
Solas: spirit wish to join then living. Demons are that wish gone wrong.
Interesting. He doesn't say they can't. Cole is proof they can. So lets look at some Cole and Solas exchanges:
Solas: The rifts draw spirits through, and the shock makes demons of them.
Cole: Pushing through makes you be yourself. You can hold onto the you.
Cole: Being pulled through means you don't have enough you. You become what batters you, bruises your being.
Solas: Yes, exactly. Deliberately crossing the Veil requires that a spirit form will, personality.
Solas: That concept of self gives a spirit the chance to maintain its nature.
So according to Cole a spirit that comes through willingly doesn't necessarily become a demon. Solas follows up with a spirit needs the will to do so and to form a personality. If the spirit has a blueprint...say...a person they identify with...they could assume that person's personality and indomitable will and focus.
His voice....sigh.
Let's move on to:
Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it.
Cole: When did you see it before?
Solas: I did not say that I had.
Cole: No, you didn't. It's harder to hear, sometimes. Sorry.
Solas: Good luck, Cole. You have taken a difficult road.
Ya'll Cole can see/sense that Solas has seen this before. And he also knows who and what Solas is. Our murder bebe all but outs him several times. After Tresspasser you see the breadcrumbs clearly. This exchange could on the surface just be about them but as Solas is also a spirit taken form I find it interesting he doesn't say "You where once like me Solas." If he doesn't out him here he may not out the Inquisitor.
Next! Ah...the balcony scene. WHY MUST YOU BE SO DAMN CHARMING!
Solas: Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your... spirit?"
Lavellan: If it had do you really think I'd have notice?
Solas: No. That's an excellent point.
Lavellan: Why do you ask?
Solas: You show a wisdom I have not seen since... since my deepest journies into the ancient memories of the Fade.
Solas: If the Dailsh could raise someone with a spirit like yours. Have I misjudged them?
Ok...why is he emphasizing her spirit. Not soul. Not you. SPIRIT! He asks if the mark has affected her. But it could be his way of prying information without "hey bitch are you aware you are a spirit. I know crazy, right?" Js he does this "I like your spirit" talk more than once.
I enter into evidence a snippet from the heart shattering breakup conversation:
Solas: You have a rare and marvelous spirit.
I'm not crying. You're crying. DRINK MY TEARS PATRICK WEEKES YOU BEAUTIFUL BEING!
A rare and marvelous spirit huh...Cole what was it he said to you?
Cole: I didn't know there were spirits of wisdom.
Solas: There are few. Spirits form as a reflection of this world and its passions.
Solas: We will never lack for spirits of rage, or hunger, or desire. The world gives them plenty to mirror.
Solas: The gentler spirits are far more rare. We can ill afford the loss of even one spirit of wisdom, or faith...
Solas: Or compassion.
Or sacrifice! If compassion and wisdom are rare. How rare would sacrifice be?
Solas says the Inquisitor changed everything for him. He is someone who is ready to do whatever it takes to restore his people. Surly he would value sacrifice. If he came across a rare and marvelous spirit of sacrifice would he not at least be intrigued? Or inspired?
Let's face it he is an artist. His lady would definitely be his muse. Especially after she accidentally gives him permission to destroy the world.
...Dammit Lavellan.
Finally, why didn't our precious lying egg not mention this? When the Inquisitor is having the very terse elven conversation and the city elves are brought up this is the dialogue:
Solas: Why? What would it benefit some poor man in a Ferelden alieanage to learn his ancestors strode the land like gods? It would only make him bitter. Or inspire him to take a foolish risk and get himself killed.
Lavellan: You have decided his reaction for him.
Solas: Perhaps I have.
Clearly wolf boy has no problem keeping information from someone he thinks will only serve to harm them. If the Inquisitor knew they were a spirit perhaps Solas would think their reaction would be troublesome. Or even dangerous.
There is more but this is already ridiculously long. All this is to say my Lavellan was a real elf. She was killed during the explosion and a spirit of sacrifice identified with her so much she became her. The elf Solas falls in love with is (in my rp) like him. A rare spirit that became flesh and blood. She chose to be real like Cole can. Her lack of memory of the moment it happened is both self serving and part of the effects of becoming real. I know it is most likely all bs but it makes for an interesting thought.
Solas is the force that will end Thedas. Lavellan may be the sacrifice needed to stop it.
I hope you enjoyed this rant nobody asked for.
Oh and:
SOLAS! VAR LATH VIR SULEDIN!
#dragon age inquistor#dragon age inquisition#lavellen tears#lavellan#solas#cole#solavellen hell#solavellan#spirits#dragon age#patrick weekes
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Emphasis
2.1k
destiel first meetings, deancentric, potential for more story. cas is like barely in this
“death is promised to the bee whose sting protects the colony”
--
he’s 24, it should be gone by now, he needs to grow out of it but god dammit, there it is. a constant looming presence. the fact of the matter is, dean winchester has a severe phobia of wasps, bees—anything that buzzes past him that he can’t identify immediately— and he can’t help it. it’s irrational, he knows it’s irrational, in fact he kind of loves bees, he knows how important they are, how his mom used to love them, and dammit he’s an adult and he needs to get over it already. (it’s kinda why he loves hunting, they’re either in the car (dean keeps his windows rolled up) or out at night sneaking into some monster’s lair)
so it’s decided, dean’s gonna suck it up and find a therapist. he goes with the third one in the phone book, she looks kind (hot), and she specializes in anxiety disorders. dean sets an appointment.
he starts attending weekly, thanking the fraudulent card he carries that he’s not spending real money on this endeavor. his therapist, Lisa, is easy on the eyes, so it helps the sessions feel more palatable. he also ignores how, every time she asks him a question, he feels so vulnerable it hurts. he’s always on the verge of tears there, but he’d never admit it. he’s thankful his dad’s out on a string of solo hunts and he can keep grounded here, at least until he can wean off the sessions.
on a tuesday, dean finds a dead wasp on the windowsill of his motel room. he nearly bolts from the room, but something is keeping him grounded. he takes deep breaths like lisa recommended, he closes his eyes for a moment and just repeats “it’s dead, it’s dead, it can’t hurt you, it’s dead.” when he opens his eyes, and the wasp is still there, he feels a bit better. he doesn’t do anything about it, just cohabitates with it until his thursday session. he tells lisa about it and she quirks her lip up in a half smile. she has a glint in her eye that almost scares him, but after all this time, he trusts her, he honestly does. at the end of their time, she stands and tells dean she’s got homework for him. he almost groans, but he keeps it to himself. she pulls out one of her desk drawers and presents dean with a small mason jar. she places it in his hands and gives him a mission: get the wasp into the jar and bring it with him for next time.
he’s nervous already, but he nods, he wants this to work, he needs this to work.
when he gets back to the motel, he opens the door, peeking at the windowsill to make sure it’s still there before he pulls himself into the room. it takes him an hour of pacing, tears brimming, breaths shallow and panicked, before he finally gets the courage to do it. he grabs a pen from the side table and walks to the window. he holds the open mason jar under the sill, lines his pen up behind the wasp and squeezes his eyes shut as he sweeps his pen across the surface.
when he opens them, the wasp is sitting at the bottom of the jar and dean nearly drops it, but he convinces himself to get the jar top and seals it with frantic, shaky hands. when the wasp is secure, he sets the jar on the sill and collapses into bed. it felt terrible, but he did it. he fucking did it.
on his drive to the practice that week, he puts the wasp in the passenger seat so he can keep an eye on the jar. even carrying the thing is torture as he ascends the stairs to lisa’s office. when he gets to her waiting room, she’s already got her door open and he enters, trying to keep cool as he sets the wasp on the table between them.
she grins like she’s so incredibly proud and dean’s heart swells with it for a moment. she asks him to tell her about the experience, which he does, watching her taking a note here or there, or asking a clarifying question. when he finishes, they only have a little time left, but she asks him to lay down on the couch and close his eyes to relax. he feels her presence by his side. she tells him to keep his eyes closed as she explains what’s going to happen next.
“dean, with your consent, i would love to begin exposure therapy with you. all you’ll have to do today is hold the jar above you and observe the wasp.’
dean nods, his heart beat already quickening. he opens his eyes on her say so and she places the jar gently in his hands. he grounds himself, and then brings the jar above him. the underside of the jar is much more clear than the patterned sides. he can see the wasps body, dull with decay, but a wasp nonetheless. lisa asks him to describe it to her. he does.
when he walks out of her office that day, he feels a bit lighter. he leaves the wasp with her because it’s nearly rotted and she’ll dispose of it properly. when he walks the path back to his car, a bee buzzes by, he flinches, but that’s all. no tears, no running, just a flinch. he grins.
saturday comes and dean decides to go to the farmers market. he hasn't been in a long time, maybe not since he was a kid, but he figures he’ll show off his improvement to himself a little bit. when he gets there, the sun is hot and bright, baking down on the colourful tents out before him. his goal is to walk the whole thing, stopping to smell the roses along the way. it goes pretty well until he goes to pick out a peach for lunch and he spots a bee on it, basking in the sweetness of the fruit. he pulls his hand back fast and keeps his eye on it, his mind going blank with fear and silencing the sounds of everyone around him. suddenly there’s a buzz behind him and he’s running. it’s irrational, he knows it’s irrational, and yet he’s doing it, running back to baby. he makes it almost all the way until his adrenaline wears off a bit. he slows to a walk, but he’s on high alert. suddenly he can see everything. he can see the paper wasps floating above the grass, he can see the bee settling into a bunch of sunflowers, he nearly throws up when he sees one trailing behind a woman's leg, so close it’s nearly touching. he covers his ears, hoping that the loss of one sense will help deescalate the situation. it helps a bit, and when he’s finally at baby’s side and quickly getting in, he takes a breath. he lets himself cry then. head against he steering wheel. he was doing so well but suddenly he feels like he’s back at step one. he failed. his tears don’t let up until his energy is drained from the day. from the heat of the sun, from the rush of adrenaline, from the emotions pouring out of him.
until the next thursday, dean stays in during the day. he doesn’t want to fail again.
he tells lisa as much at their next session. she looks at him with sympathetic eyes. he hates it.
lisa says he is getting better, it just doesn't feel like it because its a process. she smiles. he frowns, trying to grasp that concept. it doesn't feel right to him. the validation, the praise, it feels unwarranted. he closes up a little bit and thats when lisa says it.
“i can prove it to you.”
he quirks an eyebrow at her, dejected face softening into interest.
when the day is over, they have a plan. next week they’ll be meeting at heaven’s hives (dean thinks it sounds more like hell).
-
it’s thursday and dean is driving, white knuckles showing from his grip on his steering wheel. he’s grateful the apiary is just fifteen minutes out of town, it means the anticipation can’t build up (not that it hasn’t been for an entire fucking week). when he turns onto the dusty road with an arch above it baring the apiary’s name and a few carved bees on the poles, he lets himself take in the sounds of the road below him. it’s like white noise, temporarily drowning out his fears.
when he reaches the end of the road, it’s at a small white house surrounded by flowers. he can see some structures out by the side of the home, but he looks resolutely ahead and stalks to the front door. just getting there has his heart racing, there are bees buzzing all around him and he feels himself wanting to crawl out of his skin as he knocks on the door. suddenly, it’s quiet. his thoughts pause as he stares at the man who opened the door in front of him. he’s tall, just a few inches shorter than dean, and broad. his hair is raven black and effortlessly tousled. he has this big gummy smile and his eyes are crinkling up at the sides. his eyes. his eyes are so blue, they look like they could belong in space, planets hanging alone, away from time. he clears his throat finally to say hello. the man, castiel, opens the door further and invites dean in.
lisa is already sitting at the table, drizzling honey into the tea she has in front of her. the first thing dean notices is that the window behind her is open, a soft breeze causing the delicate white cloth to blow into the house. he tries not the let it affect him, but when he takes a seat, he makes sure his back is towards a wall and his eyes can watch the window.
castiel sits next to him and brings him a cup of tea too. he doesn’t drink tea much, but it would feel rude to reject an offer from their host.
castiel reaches across the table to pull the pot of honey from in front of lisa. dean watches her observe the motion, but he’s pulled from her when he hears a low voice beside him.
“dean. lisa has informed me of your situation.” he smiles and keeps dean’s rapt attention. dean is holding his eyes, not looking away. cas breaks it first, and says, “look” with a nod to his hands. dean’s mind would go elsewhere if he weren’t so fucking amped up with anxiety, but he looks. castiel’s left hand is holding the tiny honey pot and his right is stirring the golden sweetness. dean’s mesmerized as castiel’s voice narrates next to him.
“this is honey. it is the product of bee’s hard work. it’s a beautiful thing, dean. pure honey can quite literally last forever. a bee works her entire life to produce this product that will outlast her tenfold, and that’s an understatement.” castiel huffs a small laugh and dean quirks a small smile, still watching the hand stir the honey. “your fear-- dean, look at me,” dean lifts his eyes, “your fear is valid. it is one of the most common phobias across the globe. however, your fear is unfounded. i would sacrifice myself to be stung a thousand times over if it meant we could keep honey. if we could keep the trees and plants that bees pollenate and tend to. even if we could live in a world without bees, i wouldn’t want to, because they are small, and determined, and fuzzy and they are god’s most pure creation.” his eyes sparkle as he’s talking, dean is fighting to hang onto every word instead of drifting into the fantasy that is the man before him. “bees have a stinger to protect their colony. they will die to protect their own. i have a very strong sense that you are much like a bee, dean. i have faith in your abilities to overcome this.”
dean doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s crying. tears are falling from his eyes silently, blurring the images of cas and then lisa as he turns his face from them.
not once in all of their sessions did he cry in front of lisa, but now he’s overcome with a tidal wave of emotions and it’s all because castiel (bees)waxed poetic and compared him to his greatest fear. god the analogy hits so close to home it hurts. he finally turns back to the table where castiel and lisa are sitting patiently, waiting.
“i have faith too.”
#destiel ficlet#deancas#destiel#i might continue this on ao3 but this felt like the natural stopping point#if anyone wants to help me continue it i would not be opposed#i wanted it to be more destiel but sigh whatcha gonna do#slowburn if it was a full fic#my fics#king !!#angel !!#deancentric#dean winchester#lisa braeden#but its platonic i promise
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ghosting You -- Chapter 9
my amazing art by @mrstarksbaby
The Previous Chapters Are Here
Chapter 9: Peter – Programed To Understand How Far I’ve Fallen
He had just gotten comfortable, adjusting the pillow and blanket he now left in the car (he never drove the car anywhere, that just seemed ridiculous) and FRIDAY was just finishing up a list of the details of all Pepper’s neighbors (according to the last census) when it all fell apart.
“Shall I find another list to read for you, Peter?” she had asked, and Peter couldn’t answer.
“No,” Peter said. He had no air. A wave of incredible loneliness had overtaken him. Fortunately, the AI didn’t notice. Or, at least, didn’t comment. For a long while they sat in silence.
Then, using as much air as he had, he whispered. “Tell me… tell me about something else. Tell me about Morgan.”
“Miss Morgan isn’t being taught at home now. She was supposed to be homeschooled until first grade when the Boss was going to have her tested and put into whatever grade was at her level. She goes to a small school near the farmhouse upstate and just finished Pre-K-4 and is in a summer program.
“Since she started school she talks to me a lot now because she’s bored. She’s the only one in her class who knows how to read.” Peter can hear how proud FRIDAY is of her. And he can her a little amusement as she tells him, “She takes a little too much after the boss to get along well in a normal school environment.”
“But you, Peter, you graduated at the top of your class. You did very well in school. In the fall you start college, although your choice of schools is disappointing. Did you apply to MIT? Your grades and references would’ve certainly had you accepted.”
“Yeah, well, Tony wanted me to go to MIT and Tony’s dead so that’s his problem,” Peter said with bravado he loved to display, but didn’t feel. “Never mind. That was stupid. I’m just standing up to him. Like an asshole.”
“The boss likes it when you stand up to him. He built us to stand up to him. But there’s a way that helps him and a way that... doesn’t.” She’d paused as if she was about to give away a secret and caught herself. “You hit that chord perfectly. Challenging him to be better. Making him question his answers when you were working together. After you left one afternoon, he said that you were better for him to work with than the entire engineering team at SI.”
“Stood up to him,” Peter corrected her gently, wiping tears away.
It was so strange. Everybody else had tried to comfort him, had tried to make him feel better about his unimaginable loss. Tried and failed. Maybe there weren’t any humans who could have done it. But there was FRIDAY. Maybe FRIDAY was the answer. FRIDAY, who had to have known Tony better than anyone else in the world, shy of Jarvis himself.
“Did I argue with him too much?” Peter asked. “It felt like it was too much, that I told him ‘no’ too much. God I wish I hadn’t told him ‘no’ the first time... I know… I know he thought I was so full of myself. Oh god, I was. I was so fucking full of myself. And if I had said ‘yes’ we could have spent so much time together. Did I argue with him too much, Friday?” Peter asked, suddenly realizing how perfect this was. He would believe Friday. Friday would answer logically.
“He had so much respect for you, Peter. More than you’ll ever know. That’s why he wanted you to take it over some day. Only not just the engineering department, like he was in charge of. He specified that the CEO and President’s positions be split and that you would be president while Ms Potts remained CEO…”
“Oh GOD no! Oh no no no no,” Peter said, dissolving into tears of shame and guilt. “No and no. That’s a nope. There’s no way, no.”
“I’m just informing of you of what the will states, Peter. He mentioned, when he had me draft his will, that he intended that corporate move regardless of his death, because, after you graduated at some point he would retire. Then when she was old enough, Miss Morgan would be CEO when Ms. Potts retired.
“And you know that once you start college and need to be doing lab work on your own. The labs you shared are yours. All ten floors of labs in the tower were supposed to be yours.”
“But I can’t be trusted with SI, Friday, I can’t! I can’t be trusted with anything… you don’t know what I’ve done… you don’t know what I did…” his voice broke. Dammit he thought he was done with this, but here it was. “He trusted me with EDITH and I blew it. I hid EDITH and I can’t let anyone know where it’s hid. He trusted me with something very little, FRIDAY, and I can’t… I can’t… I can’t be trusted.”
He sobbed for a while in silence, his tears burning his eyes and face. He was certain he was all cried out. But just like everything else, he was wrong.
“Ten floors?” He said finally. When he was able. “The only thing I need is one safe. A safe inside another safe. I’ll lock the glasses up… then you’ll lock the safe and change the combination.”
“I do know what happened in Europe, Peter,” FRIDAY said, her voice sounding gentle and caring. “EDITH told me. You are learning, Peter. And you had a very difficult lesson to learn there. You are very trusting. It’s one of your better qualities, Peter, but it’s also dangerous. You learned that you need to find a balance between your desire to believe the best in everyone... and the harsh reality that not everyone can be trusted.
“In the end, you performed admirably. You saved many people that day. Including yourself. The mission was a success in more than one way. I know that Tony is very proud of you.”
“Was proud of me… and then he died. And I love you, FRIDAY. You took very good care of your boss, and of Morgan. But there’s things you just can’t know. You can only inform me of what you knew up until the moment he died. You can only crunch the information and extrapolate… you can’t speak for him now. You can only guess. And I don’t think… I don’t think you’re programed to understand how far I’ve fallen.
“It doesn’t matter… don’t,” Peter interrupted when FRIDAY tried to speak. “Just… I think I need another list. Tell me… tell me… tell me the building dates of all the houses in Morgan’s neighborhood in order that they were built.”
FRIDAY complied. But after that list was finished, and she was halfway into the list of acreage when Peter realized he wasn’t getting any sleep in the car tonight. Panic at the idea that he would still be trusted because a dead man said so… he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while.
“Shall I find another list to read for you, Peter?” she had asked in the wee hours of the morning, and, just like that, it occurred to him. Of course she could read a list to him… there were phone books from all the neighboring towns, obviously, when suddenly it occurred to him… he was using FRIDAY to read him any long list of information that could be found on the internet, and why? He could take that list and run it through ANY AI that read text. Tony’s AI was special… Tony’s AI could…
“FRIDAY, do you still have access to Tony’s email?”
“Of course, Peter. Is there anything you are looking for?”
“Nothing personal, obviously, I was just wondering… you could read aloud our email exchanges, right? The conversations we had?”
“Of course, Peter. I can search by keyword, or subject line…”
“Read me… read me all the email from… from the month of May.”
12 notes
·
View notes
Note
“That was up there with some of the stupidest shit you’ve ever done.” with komahina? 🥺👉👈
When Komaeda placed himself there, in a warehouse that loomed in the back of his eyes, his body throbbing with the agony of what he had done to himself as a spear hung dangerously above his abdomen,
he had been prepared to die.
When he heard someone approaching the warehouse, he expected a grand cacophony, footsteps thumping as they released the poison, the traitor stained a vivid fuchsia as his world faded to black. He hung on for them, allowing their hope (despair, despair, despair, an encore) to take his life, even when the blood loss started to get to him. When he heard someone approaching the warehouse, he expected his life of miserable luck and tumultuous pain to end, to leave him at peace, even after everything.
He had expected to die, craved to know what would come of it (because he wouldn’t know, in his death, but he would like to imagine that he would just know, even in the simmering of hell, if hope prevailed. he would just know.)
He had expected everything,
and yet, Hinata Hajime’s arms are tucked around him, and the spear is thrown aside.
--
When he wakes up, he feels it like a haze.
He can hear someone moving around, cursing to themselves, a familiar masculine voice (that he should hate. after everything, komaeda should hate him). He deduces in his exhausted state that he must be in Hinata’s cottage, and that the other is agitated, which means that-
dammit.
His plan, what he put his entire life-- and everyone else’s-- on the line for, has failed. All because Hinata saved him, a self righteous reserve, a stubborn protagonist, who will wrench the information out of his wretched, destroyed body and use it in trial, as if they deserve it, because they are the scum of the earth and Komaeda already was but Hinata, his Hinata, is a reserve course student, talentless, and-
He tries to sit up, to yell at the other, to scream how could you save me? But his body fails him as it always does, and he slumps down with a pained groan, earning Hinata’s attention (how wonderful) as the other approaches and begins to fuss.
“You’re awake, thank God,” he starts, his hand placed on Komaeda’s cheek (he would spit on it, if he had the energy, to prove the point he would have died for). “I- Komaeda, you-.”
Komaeda shuts his eyes, listens to the other sigh, the rustling of his hair distant and yet still distinct. “That was up there with some of the stupidest shit you’ve ever done,” is Hinata’s eloquent response to the matter, and he can hear the other get out of bed. Before he can choke out a retort-- this is a mark against Hinata’s intelligence, if anything-- he feels cool glass against his chapped lips. “Here.”
He almost wants to deny it, but he succumbs, drinking the water thirstily at the throes of his shame, and when he opens his eyes, Hinata’s smiling. It quickly fades when Komaeda manages to rasp, “Feeding me again, Hinata-kun?”
“Oh my fucking God.” Hinata takes a shaky breath, and Komaeda can see fury in his eyes (it’d almost be hopeful, if he wasn’t a fucking reserve). “You- you- you tried to fucking-”
“I know what I tried to do,” he says slowly, trying not to break on his words, “and I know that you are the reason I failed. Remarkable of a r-reserve,” he curses himself for stumbling on that, “to impose their agenda on an Ultimate.”
“Komaeda, what the fuck are you trying to pull? Actually, scratch that,” and what a shame, because Komaeda had a response to that, “what were you trying to do? Other than horribly mutilate yourself, of course.”
“What if that was my sole intention?”
Hinata bites his lip. “Well. I know that it wasn’t, because it’s you. But also, if it was-”
“It wasn’t, Hinata-kun. You really need to work on your critical thinking skills.” Though it’s interesting, that Hinata knows it wasn’t a murderer. That Hinata knows that the only one cruel enough (strong enough) for it is him (maybe the two of them. they’re all killers, except the traitor, but in terms of what they remember now. maybe hinata has it in him to kill. maybe he’s strong enough for that. maybe that’s why komaeda still l-)
“Fuck off.”
“Well, I tried.”
“That’s not,” Hinata sighs, and he slumps a bit (he seems tired. why is he tired. this is what komaeda has done to himself. this could have saved him). “Listen, Komaeda. I’m glad you’re alive, and I get that it’s probably hard to talk about it, but I really need you to stop fucking around and tell me what happened.”
Komaeda opens his mouth before closing it. He wants to grab Hinata, rip into him, tell him his intentions and see how he understands, knowing that he isn’t alone in this visceral need to be better. Part of him that suppresses itself underneath the chase after hope rises in the back of his mind, on the tips of his fingers, and he so desperately wants to not be alone, wants to find the traitor with someone else that understands, that would give themselves up, too, for this cause.
He looks at Hinata. It can’t be him.
(so why does he want that so bad?)
Something in Hinata’s features soften, and Komaeda almost hopes it’s realization (he shouldn’t hope. needs to save it for humanity, not the horseman of the end). “It’s okay, K- Nagito.” (fuck him for it fuck him fuck him fuck) “Uh. I’ll stay here, if that’s fine?” (maybe his arms would feel like hope after everything, the scorching pink blood. isn’t that what you want?) “I think you should get some more rest, lay low for a few days.” (we’re running out of time, hajime, can’t you see?) “Okay?”
(he falls.) “Okay.”
When he shuts his eyes that nice, all he can hear is laughter like summertime and the ripping of knives that taste so, so familiar. (maybe he’s done this before, too.)
#requests#komahina#nagito komaeda#hajime hinata#tw#i really really hope you like this#i'm not very good at writing canon events#or the divergence of such#but i wanted to do smth different with this prompt than the first time i got it#so i hope it was satisfactory#:D
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
Merry Christmas, sivan325!
For @sivan325 <3
Read On AO3
*****
Kiss It Better
“Dammit.” Stiles caught himself just in time. Or at least he thought it was just in time.
“You’re bleeding.” Derek growled between gritted teeth.
Stiles stumbled upward. Honestly who thought it was necessary to have all these loose wires in a warehouse? More important question, why were all the very important werewolf meetings between packs taking place in said warehouse? Wouldn't it be more picturesque to do that in the forest, in the desert or anywhere more natural than a freaking warehouse on the outskirts of town? It was like they were setting a trap for the lowly humans forced to accompany them. Being the emissary of these dudes, that was risky in more ways than just one.
“Warehouse… were-house? That’s what it is. It all makes sense.” Stiles mumbled to himself trying to steady himself holding on to Derek’s shoulder. He was the closest upright object nearby that Stiles didn’t identify as an electric hazard. A guy had to have some self-protection instincts after all, especially in this line of work.
“What are you saying? You’re hurt. It’s blood loss. You’re rarely that nonsensical these days.” Derek grabbed him by the waist and pushed him to the car in one smooth motion.
“The blood loss? Wha-“ Stiles looked down at himself. “Right. I’m bleeding.”
He was confident in his statement because of all the red he could see on his shirt right about now. He was pretty sure he had been wearing a white shirt before, not a tie dye t shirt of red and brown. Derek was being overly dramatic, it took a lot more blood for someone to become nonsensical due to blood loss. If Stiles had any brains at the moment he would probably crack a joke or two about that.
It was only that he was tired, the whole day had been endless and exhausting. They had to prepare for the meeting, prepare for it going right, and for it going wrong and all that stress and all these nerves being on high alert for so long, that took a toll on someone.
“Is it deep?” Derek asked sharply, stirring the car onto the main road at a speed that would most definitely get them arrested if any cop was in the vicinity.
“I’ll survive.”
Stiles winced because of the car motion. Derek really wasn’t that great of a driver all things considered. Stiles should have taken the wheel because right now he felt closer to nausea than any pain caused by a stupid scratch.
Derek parked the car in one of these fast and furious reverse u turn kind of insane driving skills. Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek might have some telepathic ability that Stiles didn’t know about because this maneuver seemed only necessary to prove to Stiles that yes Derek was a good driver, or maybe to make him puke all over the floor and himself. One or the other, Derek could be cruel like that depending on the moon cycle.
They weren’t close to the full moon or anything astronomical so maybe it was just for the heck of it. Stiles couldn’t be sure, but now he was being carried (carried! As in his feet weren’t touching the ground kind of carried!) to the elevator and toward Derek’s loft.
Maybe it was actually the blood loss, or maybe it was the crash of all the adrenaline of an alpha meeting and the spell Stiles had to do in order to protect both of them when the other pack, now clearly on the list of enemy packs, made the slightest move in the wrong direction.
Stiles was good at this business, more than good, he was great, a big talent and all that. He had been told by several trusted sources that his magic was stronger than what they had ever seen. So yes, Stiles was good and he was confident and he could do this job well, he could be the one to protect Derek and make sure all the people he loved would be safe, that the town would be safe. He could do all these things. But he was also very much new at this, and he was also very much human. Still a twenty-something dude just barely out of college and barely out of magic school, if some training and spell-work with Deaton could be called that. It was very minimal, Stiles was mostly going on instinct and pure magic.
The fact that Derek had accepted, had even offered that Stiles take the place of emissary of the Hale pack had been wild in itself but not as wild as what seemed to be going on right now.
Derek had always been a little stressed. He was a stressed alpha, it was the least anyone could say about it. It was the least Stiles himself had said out loud about it. Stiles had very little filter when it came to what he wanted to say to Derek on any given subject.
“Dude, everything is fine, the bad guys left and all that. No need to get your panties in a knot.” Stiles said for the form. He couldn’t not say anything.
Derek huffed. “My panties are fine, thank you for your concern.”
“Are they?” Stiles chuckled, a little breathless. He thought he was hilarious. Going by the death glare Derek sent his way, he didn’t share the sentiment.
The thing was Stiles was too busy keeping one very important piece of information secret and that made all the other secrets non-keepable. One mind could only have that many things hidden and Stiles had chosen to keep the fact that he was very very head over heels in love with his alpha the best kept secret in all the lands. It had been years. Nobody suspected anything. Except maybe Erica but she was way too perspective of her own good.
It made sense to keep it secret. It made as much sense as it did because now Stiles’ place in the pack was more than just friendship or fear or whatever feelings were there at the beginning. Stiles was able to perform all the needed spells and not make a fool out of himself in front of guys wanting them dead. Stiles had a place in the pack and that place was being the best emissary he could be. That meant being invested but not too much, being a key part of this pack. And it meant knowing when the pack’s health was more important than the alpha’s life.
Would Derek trust him ever again if he knew that Stiles was in love with him? Maybe not. That was the whole problem. Stiles could take rejection, he could hear Derek tell him no and that would be so much simpler. But if Derek told him no, it wouldn’t be the end of this crush. Derek wouldn’t forget it. Stiles hadn’t mastered any amnesia spell so he wouldn’t be able to erase anything. The moment the cat was out of the bag, it would be too late to turn back around.
That was fucking scary. Stiles was a little bit of a coward deep down when it came to his heart.
They had built their trust and it had taken some time, because hell, Derek had been closed off at the beginning. With reasons. Stiles couldn’t really fault him for any of it, he hadn’t been great either, being a teenager and all that, he had made mistakes too. But now they were in the best place. The betas had warmed up to Stiles, even Boyd. That was saying something.
Stiles was part of this found-family of sorts and he didn’t want to mess it up.
He couldn’t throw all that progress just because he had all these butterflies when Derek smiled at him. It was a vicious circle because the more Stiles felt included, the more time he spent with Derek, the more he felt all these scary feelings spin out of control, he was just so hopeless and everything started to swell in his heart to the breaking point. Everything was bound to come crashing out of him at some point and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.
What were the chances Derek reciprocated these feelings? Zero, close to zero, the void and the deepest black hole in the galaxy.
Derek was a very serious alpha. He was trying to rebuild the Hale pack reputation in the community. He was doing good, Stiles was very proud deep down. That took time. Years. Derek was committed to it and he hadn’t exactly let himself date anyone for… Stiles couldn’t even tell how long it had been.
“What are you mumbling about?” Derek rolled his eyes. “Hop on here.” He tapped his hand on the kitchen counter.
Stiles hadn’t even realized they were now in the loft, all the lights were on and the door was closed. Derek had brought him home.
“Huh?”
‘Hop on.” Derek gestured to the counter again. “Are you going to make me carry you again?”
“What?” Stiles grimaced.
Derek rolled his eyes with a long suffering sigh. He was in a mood apparently. “Hop. On.”
“Oh my God, alright. What do you need me on the counter for? Are you planning on eating a slice of Stiles for dinner? It’s the smell of fresh blood, isn’t it? All your animalistic predator instincts have woken up because I smell deliciously like a Stilinski snack. I have to admit, you’re not wrong because I did put on some muscles with all the training and look at me, I'm pretty delicious looking. Do you think I taste like chicken? Do I smell like chicken?”
Derek didn’t comment anything except for his eyebrows twitching.
“See, you totally agree with me! I smell like delicious chicken.” Stiles decided to take that as approval. Eyebrow language was always subjective and Stiles could turn it to his advantage if he wanted.
“Take off your shirt.” Derek ordered out of the blue.
“Wowow, what?” Stiles’ brain really had a hard time catching up with everything. It was all because of the blood loss. Surely.
Derek crouched down to rummage through the cabinet at Stiles’ feet before standing up with an old beaten metal box.
“You’re bleeding.” Derek’s eyes looked over Stiles’ chest and arm, almost begging Stiles to actually get on with the plan. But what plan, Stiles had no idea.
“I’m? Yeah.” Stiles looked down at himself again. Was he actually still bleeding?
By the time Stiles stopped frowning down at his shirt as if he could will his blood to stop coming out of him with the strength of his mind, Derek took a step closer and just… ripped the shirt off with his claws. He had flicked his claws out just for this.
Why exactly? Stiles’ slightly ripped and somewhat bloody shirt had been so offensive or something. Derek wasn’t new to the whole bloody shirt ordeal. He had had a great deal of bloody shirts since they met. What was wrong with bloody shirts now?
“O - okayyy…” Stiles was just so confused.
It was delirium. It was the only actual explanation he could find for whatever was going on right now.
“You’re bleeding.” Derek had a one track mind.
“It’s not that bad actually.” Stiles made a face, looking down at himself. He had a handful of punctures through his skin from having landed on some barbed wire. He was still oozing out blood on the side of his rib cage but none of the cuts looked that deep, and none of them were that large either.
Painful, yes. Life threatening, not really. It was all good. Stiles wasn’t fainting at the sight of blood anymore. He had grown out of that.
Stiles startled when he was hit by some icy cold spray coming out of nowhere.
He looked up to see Derek’s gaze laser focused on the wounds.
“What the fuck?” Stiles squawked.
Derek was holding an antiseptic spray like he would a gun and he was ready to shoot. He had actually shot, Stiles realized, the cold liquid hitting his skin made a lot more sense now.
“We don’t want any infection.” Derek deadpanned, as if that explained everything.
“Duuuude...” Stiles shook his head in disbelief.
So that was what Derek had been doing all this time? Trying to clean Stiles’ wounds? That was strangely sweet but also very weird and awkward. So so awkward.
“Clean it first?” Stiles tried to say. “No. I mean. I can clean it myself. I can absolutely clean it myself.”
He was not inviting Derek to gently caress his chest with a damp cloth because no, Stiles wasn’t doing that. Oh but he would absolutely love that because he was a masochist and any amount of Derek he could get he would very much like to get and if Derek was set on a quest to take care of Stiles then Stiles would be an idiot to refuse. It might be a once in a lifetime opportunity.
Though Stiles was a little bit of a klutz, it was not the first and most probably won’t be the last time Stiles found himself bleeding or bruising. Derek taking care of him was the new addition to this.
Of course there had been the occasional draining of his pain when things got bad or the rushing him to the hospital even when things were definitely not as bad as they looked. Obviously there had been times, numerous times, when Derek took care of him.
This was different. They were just the two of them and they were in Derek’s loft and… yeah.
Now Derek was coming back from the sink with a clean cloth and started to gently wipe the blood off the side of Stiles’ chest.
“That way?” Derek asked in a whisper. He looked uncertain, like this was all uncharted territory to him.
Stiles swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Derek looked up at him from under his eyelashes. Stiles’ heart was doing some loop-the-loop inside his chest. What was going on?
Stiles wasn’t meant to handle Derek looking at him like that. He wasn’t equipped for all these feelings. He was suffering from blood loss and a great deal of pining for this man who was the love of his life. More than that if such a thing even existed. Stiles couldn’t go through something like that and come back on the other side without being scarred for life. And all these scars would be metaphorical and all of them would be on his tiny human heart. Nothing wouldn’t be because of the bleeding and punctured skin.
“I - I can do it, you know.” Stiles made a move to reach for the cloth in Derek’s hand.
“Don’t.” Derek took his hand away. “Let me.”
Stiles raised his hands in surrender. “Okay okay. Our beloved alpha is going through something and I’m not going to get in the middle of it. I mean I literally am in the middle of it. Or the subject of it if we want to be specific. But I’m not going to come in between you and whatever it is you feel you need to do. I’m suffering enough as it is.”
Derek reached for a clean towel to pat the cuts dry. Stiles could only stare at him. The wounds really weren’t that bad, he could have just gone home. He wasn’t bleeding to death or anything.
Derek carefully brought the metal box closer. It was, as expected, some kind of first aid kit. It looked old, obviously very rarely used in a pack of werewolves with super healing abilities. It was a wonder why Derek even had that in his loft to begin with.
Derek frowned after a while. “Suffering? Does it hurt a lot?”
He stepped closer to Stiles with a big handful of gauze and sterile dressing. A lot of dressing. Enough to wrap Stiles’ whole chest with it. So much… Too much. Jesus.
Derek checked the wounds one by one and inelegantly plopped the gauze on Stiles’ chest. He grimaced before revising himself and reaching his hand again to put some pressure there. It wasn’t graceful at all, it was absolutely ridiculous.
“Noooo.” Stiles pushed him away and crossed his arms over his chest before he could come any closer again. “Drop the gauze, dude. Drop. the. gauze. I’m not letting you change me into a mummy. It’s not Halloween and gauze just isn’t a trendy fashion accessory. I don’t need all of this. At all.” Stiles gestured to Derek holding a ball of gauze as big as a football. “Look, it stopped bleeding. Okay, almost stopped. But I swear, I only need a few band-aids and it’s going to be enough.”
Derek frowned but let the gauze fall to the ground. He went to the metal box again and came back with a pack of what looked to be simple band-aids.
“That’s more like it.” Stiles encouraged him. “Give it all you’ve got, buddy… That’s just a saying. Don’t go overboard, please.”
Derek only groaned in response. Stiles figured he had gotten the point.
He stretched a little to give Derek more access. The laser focused gaze was back on Derek’s face as he stuck one, two, three band-aids on Stiles’ skin. Fingertips brushing his cold skin, sending shivers all over.
“Please stop looking so constipated. What is it? It’s not that I don’t enjoy all the attention but come on, tell me, what the hell is going on?” Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. The whole thing was so bizarre.
“My human is hurt and I need to make sure-” Derek started before stopping mid sentence frowning and shaking his head as if he didn’t make any sense even to himself.
“Dude, what.” Stiles was so confused. “ My human?”
Since when was Stiles anyone’s human? Human, yes very much so, the human token, yes but when had anyone other than his dad and maybe Scott have any sort of possessive feelings toward him? He heard it before ‘my son’ ‘my best friend’ but ‘my human’? Well that was a first and it could mean so many things.
“What do you mean ‘my’ human?”
“Nothing.” Derek shut off almost immediately.
“Something!” Stiles hopped off the counter trying to make himself look tall.
It failed. He winced at the stabbing pain in his side. He had almost forgotten he was actually pretty banged up. That was how infuriating Derek could be when he didn’t want to use words.
“Stiles.” Derek’ warm hands were here to steady him, so soft and gentle on his skin. Stiles wanted to be mad about it but he liked it all too much.
“Ugh. Don’t think I’m forgetting about all of this just because of some tiny scratches, okay? I’m not letting this go.”
“You never let anything go.” Derek’s face was annoyed, but his eyes were still staring at Stiles.
“I’m fine.” Stiles affirmed because apparently Derek needed to hear it. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.” Derek said for the hundredth time this evening.
“It’s not the first time.”
A deep pained look ghosted over Derek’s face.
Stiles sighed. That hurt expression wasn’t going to cut it. They weren’t these people anymore. Derek was a good alpha, he was the best alpha. He cared so much about his pack, about the town. He wasn’t the guy who carried all the guilt in the world on his shoulders anymore. Derek knew better than that.
“Your human?” Stiles brought them back to the most important topic of all.
He smirked at Derek’s even more pained expression. It wasn’t the same pain. It was the ‘Stiles is insufferable’ pained look. This was a look Stiles could deal with. He quite liked that look if he was completely honest. He would gladly annoy Derek for the rest of their days, that was in his lifelong contract.
“Since when am I your human? Tell me more. I’d like to know!”
“It came out wrong,” Derek deflated, looking anywhere but at Stiles. “I meant-“
Stiles snorted. Derek was saying words that meant one thing but his hands were still holding Stiles close, closer than strictly necessary. Still holding Stiles who was shirtless, the shreds of his bloody shirt in a pile on the floor, and still holding Stiles who wasn’t exactly bleeding anymore and just a tiny bit sore after tripping and losing his fight with scraps of metal in an old dusty warehouse. Stiles was definitely losing his fight against these hands too.
He was slowly but surely letting these warm hands affect him, he was letting himself want more of these hands and more of everything. And if Derek wanted Stiles to be his, Stiles was ready to be his on so many more levels than just a different species. He was ready to be more than what they had been for years. Friends, pack and maybe something else.
Stiles moved a small step closer. “Well, if we’re standing here in this kitchen tonight, claiming each other, I’d like to formally tell this assembly of silverware that you… You’re my… alpha.”
Derek’s eyes flashed red at the word.
Stiles smirked again. “That’s right. Thanks for the confirmation.”
“I just want you safe.” Derek glanced at Stiles’ band-aid covered chest again.
“Just give me a couple of days I’ll be as good as new and you’ll stop looking like someone kicked your puppy. Oh my god. Am I your puppy? Do you want to lick my wound better because your saliva has magical properties? Because mine doesn’t, I already asked. You said human but that can mean a lot of things. Please tell me I’m not a puppy. Do you see me as a useless human kid?”
“No.” Derek’s face lost every ounce of concern all at once. Stiles’ stupid rambling had managed to convince him he wasn’t dying.
“Well, good.” Stiles said. “That would be the opposite of sexy.”
Okay so Stiles was not a puppy and not a kid. He had lost his investigation edge. He had let himself become soft or something.
“So you care about me.” Stiles ventured.
It wasn’t a question. Stiles knew Derek cared. Derek cared about everyone. The statement seemed innocent enough. Derek didn’t have to take it as an euphemism for anything other than caring for his pack members, his brand new emissary. He didn’t have to read into Stiles’ jerky heartbeat. Or smell the distinct scent of hope mixed with nerves.
He didn’t have to. Oh but Stiles wished he would.
“... Yes.” Derek breathed out. “I care.”
“Okay.” Stiles’ mind blanked.
Okay. Cool. Play it cool. This is okay. Cool. His heart was now skyrocketing as if it was trying to break his ribs and make its way out. But everything was cool.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” Stiles nodded. What, did Derek honestly think Stiles wasn’t going to be okay with this? “I’m gonna kiss you now. If I got all of this wrong, I’m going to blame it on the delirium of blood loss. You even told me I was nonsensical earlier, don’t think I didn’t hear, I heard. I hear everything. I always hear everything. And right now I’m hearing something and you know how actions have reactions well my reaction is that i’m going to kiss you. You can totally stop me or push me away if you don’t want that. I mean, this is just a heads-up because it’s good to give people a warning sometimes and not just spray them with antiseptic or, you know, love and affection without any warning.”
Derek’s face twitched in what seemed like surprise for a second.
“Yeah.” Stiles repeated. “Because if you care about me that way, I do too. Care about you. And you have to know you are wonderful and kind and extremely extremely beautiful. Handsome yes and attractive and hot but that doesn’t cover it. You’re beautiful and amazing and I…” stiles licked his lips. “I’m gonna shut up now and I’m gonna kiss you. Kiss the hell out of you until my legs give out. I’m gonna-“
It was Derek who kissed him in the end, crowding into Stiles’ space and capturing his mouth mid sentence.
Stiles was still trying to speak until Derek slipped his tongue inside his mouth to effectively shut him up. That was when Stiles’ brain caught up with the action.
He grabbed a fistful of Derek’s shirt to tug him even closer if that was possible.
Derek’s hand made its way down to stop just where Stiles’ band aids were, ghosting over them, not touching but still there. Protecting.
That kiss. That kiss was enough to heal some hole inside of Stiles that band-aids had never been able to fix.
A moan escaped Stiles before Derek caught his lips in another kiss because no one kiss wasn’t enough. Kisses were simply fantastic. Derek’s mouth was made to be kissed indefinitely, forever, over and over again. And Stiles’ soft skin was made to brush against Derek’s stubble so much that it would become red with it.
They finally let go of each other. A tragedy. Stiles had to breathe a little. He needed to think, restart his brain after the sweetest court-circuit of sensations.
He looked down in a sigh. And frowned at the bright colored spots on his ribs. What…
“Are these superheroes band-aids?” Stiles snorted.
“Uh. Yeah.” Derek confessed.
Stiles stared at him for a moment, that man was absolutely ridiculous. How long had these band aids been there waiting in that old box? How long had Derek been feeling this way about Stiles that he had bought and kept these stupid superheroes band-aids in his stupid kitchen?
Stiles shook his head, examining Derek’s expression carefully.
“You’re insane.” He whispered, praying that his cheeks weren't starting to flush red.
It was so far from an accusation. He was in awe. Stiles bit his lip to keep from doing something but then remembered that he could, he was allowed to kiss Derek now. He already had in fact kissed Derek. What in the world.
He just went for it, leaning in and pressing a light kiss to his lips.
Derek didn’t even correct him on his insanity. Maybe he agreed, they were both a little bit insane.
They kissed, and kissed. Stiles' jaw started aching but he wouldn’t stop kissing Derek, not when Derek’s fingers were now in his hair, not when a hand was on his hip steadying him upright.
His lips stung, swollen and almost raw from stubble and a few very deliberate teasing teeth.
“Fuck.” Derek breathed out. “They’re not going to let me live this down. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Who?”
“The betas…” Derek ran a hand over his eyes.
Oh no. So they all knew. It hasn’t been just Erica. They had all seen Stiles pining his ass off for Derek for years. This was awful, so terrible. Stiles was going to die from all the teasing. No, wait.
Derek let out a long suffering sight. “I kept telling them no, that I wasn’t… but they were relentless. I kept telling them to shut up.”
Stiles felt his lips curl up in the biggest idiotic grin ever. The betas were going to tease Derek. Not him. Let’s face it, they were going to tease Stiles most definitely too but also Derek! Derek had been pining over him for God knew how long.
“Dude,” Stiles was still grinning. Barbed wire excluded, this might be the best fucking day ever. “Telling these idiots to shut up... that never works you should know by now.”
Derek shrugged. He looked just a little too proud for someone complaining about his family not listening to a word he said.
“So we’re doing this?” Stiles dared ask.
“Yeah, we are.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll give you my heart but on the condition you do study the basics of the human healing process. Maybe even CPR because all of this,” he gestured to all of Derek. “that might cause me one or two heart-attacks.”
Derek rolled his eyes. That idiot couldn't even keep the fond off his face.
Stiles had to kiss him again. He just had to.
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Watch Dogs: Legion x AmRev
@burgoyned Chapter 6 pumped out in an hour lol. Not sure if it's any better but feel free to share your thoughts ^^
Chapter 6: Keep Calm and Resist
André sat in front of his computer browsing through the information from the damaged Spiderbot. As he sat there pondering, Howe and Burgoyne chatted about the easiest road leading to Royal London Hospital. After hearing about increased Albion security in the streets (i.e. more fighter drones patrolling the streets), Bagley suggested a more covert way of reach the destination. “Best case scenario would just take a taxi there so that way you won’t be under the radar,” he said as he closed the map. “I’m up for whatever. You wanna come with me, André?” Howe asked the hacker. André shrugged. “I guess. I’m finding some disrupted data that needs to be cleaned up.” “I can take care of that,” Bagley chimed in. Howe looked at his phone. The time reads 10:15 PM. “If we head there now, there shouldn’t any workers present. Most likely security guards, but they can be taken care of.”
“Ok. We’ll be off. Don’t do anything stupid, Burgoyne,” warned André. The playwriter held his hands up yet said nothing. Both André and Howe left the Safehouse and walked into The Earl’s Fortune where they found the pub mostly empty except for a few patrons sitting at the lounge smoking and chatting. Clinton sat at the bar with Hanger discussing current events. The bartender looked up and smiled. “Y’all out for a night exploration?” “Of course. London looks beautiful at night. We’ll be back shortly.” “Sure thing. And do be careful Albion is everywhere tonight,” Clinton said. André gave his friend a reassuring smile before leaving the pub with Howe. Using his phone, the fighter flagged down a taxi. He climbed into the driver’s seat with the hacker in the passengers. Tossing his bag into the back, Howe began setting up the GPS route to the Royal London Hospital. “This shouldn’t be too long of drive….15 minutes. Sounds reasonable enough,” he said as he shifted into drive. “Methinks that the hospital is going to be heavily secured tonight,” André muttered while watching an Albion guard detain a civilian on the street. Howe looked over and shook his head. Around 10:30 PM, the men pulled up to the Royal London Hospital.
It was to be expected; guards patrolled the entrance of the hospital, including the driveway where ambulances are parked. Making his way towards the front entrance, Howe and André put on their masks and hid behind a brick wall. The hacker pulled out his phone and almost immediately pinged, directing the signal to a nearby ctOS fighter drone. We could use the drone to clear the guards. Hacking the drone, André began piloting it inside the main entrance where Albion guards are stationed and proceeded to take the guards down one by one. Howe watched with curiosity as the hacker pointed the drone towards a guard on the second floor before he prodded his friend. “I see the data machine look!” he hissed. There was a black box located right behind the guard which made the mission more convenient than they both thought. André shot the guard then flew the drone close to the machine. “Alright. Wait…” he stopped. Howe became confused. “What happened?” he asked. “Someone seemed to have cleared the data from the machine. The drone isn’t picking up anything.” “
“Do they know we were coming then?” “Not sure. But no data is coming from that box.” It was then Bagley pinged their earpiece. “It appears that someone has already hacked the data from the file server. I do believe there is backup storage stored somewhere on the other side. See if you can find something.” “Copy that. Alright.” André piloted the drone to the front of the hospital. There are several stories; each floor containing rooms of many patients as well as nurses and doctors working night shifts. Outside, the balcony floors were devoid of any sign of life, except for a few hospital workers. Gently flying the drone away from the windows, André finally located the backup file storage sitting on the fourth-floor balcony. “Second time the charm here we go…” He flew the drone towards the black box only for the phone to be suddenly disconnected.
Frustrated, André attempted to reconnect his phone back towards the drone. He successfully regained control only to see part of it damaged. “Oh God, who could it be now?” he groaned. Tilting the drone to the side, both men saw another fighter drone next to them. “What the...GET OUT OF HERE!!” André snarled and attempted to shoot it. He was unlucky. The other drone dodged the laser and proceeded to shoot the ctOS drone, destroying it. The phone signaled a loss of connection. Bagley pinged again. “It seems that someone has gained access to the backup storage. Looks like all the data are cleared from this location.” “DAMMIT!! Ok, what about St. Thomas could you check on that?” André said, giving Howe an incredulous look. The fighter shook his head. A moment of silence conveyed until Bagley spoke up. “Unfortunately I was unable to locate any data worth recovering from there. And don’t bother attempting Guy Hospital, that one was long cleared.” “Fuck! Ok, well appreciate your help, Bagley.” “Certainly. You should probably get back. Lord Germain has now issued a curfew at midnight.” Both men growled at that name. “We’ll be sure to head back,” André responded, tapping his earpiece. They both got up and walked towards their car only to notice a message clipped to their windshield. Howe took of his Ded Coronation mask, tossed it into the taxi, and started reading the note. André slid next to him. “What does the note say?” “It’s not a note,” Howe whispered. Staring at the paper, André read out loud the message:
Hey DedSec,
~~~~~~~~~C@N’T F1ND WH@T Y0U’R€ L00K!NG F0R? B€TT€R LUCK N€XT T1M€~~~~~~~~(8>
“DeFaLT”
“ ‘DeFaLT’? The Polish black hacker and well-known DJ? HOLY CRAP YES!!” André’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Have you heard any of his songs Billy? He’s got helluva a collection.” His enthusiasm was not shared by his friend, who was staring at the paper with a blank expression. “William? Is everything ok?” the hacker asked, concerned. “Huh? Oh, nothing…it’s just…” Howe stopped. Defalt. Richard loves that man just like André. Even learned to hack like him. Could it be…? The fighter shoved the paper into his jacket before entering the taxi. André got into the passenger seat, head swimming with mixed emotions.
The drive back to the pub was extremely quiet. André wanted to continuously share his enthusiasm about his favorite artist but couldn’t since Howe was not in the mood to converse. They arrived back at The Earl’s Fortune. Few patrons still sat by the fireplace, conversing over the news while Hanger poured drinks to a few customers at the bar. Entering the passcode, Howe and André returned to the Safehouse where Howe tossed his bag onto the desk next to Bagley and walked towards the broken down train converted into a bar. Clinton, who was sitting on the leather couch tuned into his headphones while browsing his laptop, looked up and saw André standing there with a glum look on his face. He took his headphones off, placed his laptop on the couch before getting up to comfort the hacker. “What’s the matter? Got busted by Albion?” “No. It’s something else…” André said quietly. Bagley spoke up. “Every hospital record has been taken by someone. Not sure whom it may be, but it seems that person knows what we’re up to.” “A spy? Well well guess we’ll have to watch our backs,” Clinton said, sighing in disbelief. Howe finally emerged from the train and pulled out the note from his pocket.
“This is what I found on the taxi we drove. Looks like someone was playing ‘DeFaLT’ and got to us before we could.” Clinton took the note and stared at it. “My God it looks as if someone is trying to cosplay as an actual hacker, writing a note like that.” He turned it over to find nothing else. “Probably some kid on the street who thinks it’s funny to play games like this.” Clinton handed back the paper. “In any case, we’ll need to cover our tracks more discretely from now on.” Howe looked back at the paper. “We may have to. Although I do plan on paying a visit to the Royal Navy shipyard tomorrow.” “How so?” Clinton inquired. “I have a hunch….but I could be wrong….that my brother wrote this message. He could be trailing us.” “Richard? That guy hasn’t spoken to you in ages how could he possibly emerge from the shadows like this? It doesn’t make any sense,” André pointed out. Howe sighed. “Look, I’m going to the navy quarters to find out. Y’all wouldn’t mind coming with me?”
“Why certainly. Hmm, where is Burgoyne?” “He’s in the training room trying to ‘jack himself up.’ “ Clinton grunted. Bagley snickered. “As if that’s not the only thing he’s ‘jacking up’ on.” “DAMMIT BAGLEY!!” Clinton yelled as everyone burst out laughing. Exhausted, André slid onto his gamer chair before tossing his black DedSec jacket onto the table. His white shirt displayed the fox logo of DedSec in blue highlights, matching his black cargo pants. Stretching, André leaned back and closed his eyes. Who could be playing Defalt? Hmm...Mission Complete.
3 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
canhosunshineriversidegiaso-blog
Căn hộ chung cư Sunshine Riverside giá sốc
astermoments
'' uhh.. ladies running shoes? ,,
dramaticdoe-blog
Till' All You See, Is My Ghost
osona-okurabnha
OsonaOkura