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#i keep remembering there's going to be new leverage soon and going !!!!
luveline · 5 months
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Hi! I remember a while ago you said zombie!au Steve might have a hobby of drawing? Would love to see some of that maybe w r as his muse:D
steve zombie!au fem. 1k
You return to the camp with your new best friend at your side. In matching coats, no less. 
"Christ," Steve says, shaking his head in disgust. 
He loves —loves— that you have a friend, someone who might care about you just as much as he does. You deserve to be loved, and cherished, and known for your worth. You're a human vestibule of sweetness and God knows it wasn't going to be long before someone else noticed. 
But matching coats? "Alright, where's mine?" he asks. 
"Didn't have your size, handsome," Eddie says, giving you a quick and purely amicable hug. "See you later." 
He scampers off to who knows where and you sit down. You don't hide your happy smile, and Steve's glad for it even if it does make him jealous.  "He's so nice," you say. 
"No, he's not." 
"He is. He's almost as nice as you. And he helped me find you something." 
"After he outfitted my girlfriend in a couple's costume. I'm surprised he had the energy." 
"You're so jealous," you say, your happy smile growing in size with the seconds. 
"I'm actually making myself feel sick." 
"I can wear a different coat if it–" 
"Shut up! As long as you like me better, wear what you want." He shakes off his petty jealousy and takes your hand. For once, he's sitting on a towel rather than just grass or dirt, but his efforts to avoid extensive grass stainage mean nothing when your muddy shoe brushes his leg. "Nice. Thanks." 
"Sorry, sorry," you murmur, swinging your backpack off of your shoulder and sighing as you bend into yourself. "Jeez, my back hurts." You breathe out, a low moan of sound that drags. He can feel your pain. (He can't, but he figures that he loves you so much you're now connected spiritually to one another.) "How come I keep going on these expeditions and you keep staying home?" 
"I'm good with the kids." 
"Mm. Maybe you'll come on the next one anyways? I miss you when I'm gone." 
"I miss you too," he says. "More, I'd say." 
You giggle. "Whatever, you always have to be better than me. Shut up! Shut up, I'm trying to give you the things I found for you." 
Steve draws a zipper closed over his lips and flicks away the key. You get into these moods with each other sometimes, perhaps from having spent as much time together as you have, where a faked aggression rises between you. It's almost like you would've spoken at the start of the end of the world, when it was him and you alone, and Steve wasn't in the best of moods. The play fighting soon dies down as you open your bag; receiving gifts is always a pleasure. 
"First, underwear." 
"Thank you," he says, accepting the eight pack of boxers you offer like a man who's crawled the Sahara being given a glass of water. "So much." 
"You're welcome. Socks, a shirt, a new belt, a brace for your knee." You dump it on the towel next to him one by one. Your bag must've been heavy carrying all this, and it keeps going. You've brought him soap, hair elastics, razor blades, chapstick. The community you belong to is heavy on sharing, but you're free to bring home whatever you like so long as you're willing to carry it unaided once you've contributed to the food drive. You've clearly crammed your bag full of stuff for him, unveiling only underwear and socks for yourself. 
"You couldn't find any toothpaste?" he asks. 
You toss a pack of cigarettes at him without force. "Sadly, no. But I think Robin can get us some with those, right?" 
"I wanna smoke these so bad." 
You laugh and shake your head, fondly disapproving. "You don't! We can just kiss more, alleviate your cravings." 
"Weirdo." 
You lean forward, putting your cold hand on his cheek to leverage him closer. "You knew this when you met me," you say, kissing his cheek.
Steve's good on the cravings front after that. He swears that when things are at their worst a kiss from you could keep him going. Your lips can ease the ache of an empty stomach and the shattering heat of his ever-sprained knee.
You pull away gently like you're worried you'll hurt him in your detangling. Honestly, you might. Steve imagines you leaving sometimes like his arm being torn off. 
You reach back into the back for a parcel wrapped in a shirt for protection. The pencils and sketchbook you got Steve are long gone, lost with the rest of your possessions in the middle of a college campus on the Michigan border. Finding things like that is hard, and it hasn't been on Steve's mind. 
Apparently, it's been on yours.
"These are nice ones, right? The pencils?" you ask, having unwrapped your parcel, a soft backed sketchbook and a small metal case of pencils in hand. "There's only twelve, but I even found a sharpener so you won't have to do it with your knife. Sorry there's no black, I know you like the darker details."
Steve flicks through the sketchbook without thinking, every page blank. It isn't very big either, but it's perfect for purpose. 
He sets it aside with the pencils near all your new things and gets on his knees, tugging you in for a hug. "Thank you," he says, and he's said thank you a hundred times to you, but this one feels awkward, clumsy in his mouth. 
"You're welcome. Just promise you'll draw me again." 
"You're the only thing I want to draw." He kisses your cheek in emphasis. "You're the most beautiful thing everywhere we go." 
"That's such a line," you say, sounding melted. 
Easy, he thinks, turning your face to his for a kiss. Soft, as sweet as he can manage. With you, kisses start soft and end too rough, he can't help it. He remembers you're there and his to kiss and it drives him crazy. 
It's a little easier to stop today. Steve is genuinely eager to draw again, and in a week or two there won't be a page in his book without your likeness, his muse. 
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gingiesworld · 8 months
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Old Flames
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Civil War Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader
Warnings : Smut. Reader has a penis. Breeding.
Requested by @ginnsbaker
18+ MINORS DNI
"Forever."
"And always."
After the battle at the airport, Vision tried to help get Wanda free from the Raft. Tony could see that the synthezoid was evolving, he was feeling more human with each passing moment. What Tony had never expected was the news he recieved when he arrived at the Raft.
"Wanda Maximoff was broken free last night." Secretary Ross informed him. "You wouldn't have anything to do with it now?"
"No." Tony told him firmly. "As much as I feel horrible with her being here, I wouldn't go back on the Accords."
"The power went down. The cameras were hacked." Secretary Ross stated. "The only person that came to mind with that was you."
"I can assure you. It wasn't me." Tony stated. "You can search the compound and every one of my safe houses but I assure you it wasn't me."
Wanda soon woke up in a dimly lit room, her eyes darting around the room. She wasn't in the restraints she was put in when she was in the Raft. She was just in her suit.
"You know, when I heard your name on the news after the incident. I just couldn't believe you were still alive." She watched as a figure emerged from the doorway.
"Who are you?" She asked, her accent thick.
"I'm hurt that you don't recognise my voice." They spoke, feigning hurt. "After all, you were the one who said always."
"You were dead." Wanda whispered as Y/N chuckled.
"That is what Strucker told you." Y/N stated as they took a seat on the bed beside her. "I was transferred. After they realised our bond. Our relationship, they used it as leverage for their own gain." Wanda remained silent as they spoke. "They told me that you had lost the baby."
"What baby?" Wanda questioned. She remembered their nights spent together, but she was never pregnant.
"They were the ones who told me you were pregnant, and when you miscarried. They told me that you never wanted to see me again." They told her.
"Y/N, you were the only one I ever cared about. Why would I hate you?" Wanda questioned as Y/N shrugged.
"I wanted to have a family with you Wanda." They whispered, they had flicked on the light. Wanda gasped as she saw the once warm blue eyes she fell in love with. "I always did, since we were little."
"Y/N, we're completely different people now." She whispered as they took her hand in theirs. Playing with the many rings on her fingers.
"You will always be the same Wanda to me." They whispered as she shook her head.
"Y/N, we don't know each other anymore." Wanda tried as Y/N shook their head and cupped her cheek.
"You are just a little different." They whispered as their thumb brushed against her bottom lip. "But I bet I remember all of the things that make you squirm." Wanda sighed when they pressed their lips against her own, almost getting lost in the feeling.
"I can't." Wanda whispered as she pulled away.
"You can Wanda." They told her as she shook her head.
"I have Vision." She told them as they smiled at her.
"I understand your powers may be different but it will be ok. This is meant to be. We are meant to be." They told her as they brushed her hair from her face.
"No. Vision has nothing to do with my powers." Wanda whispered as her heart pounded in her chest as Y/N untied her corset. "He is my uh, well I'm not quite sure what we are."
"You're mine Wanda." Y/N told her sternly. "You belong to me, and me alone." Wanda sighed when she felt their lips on her skin as they removed her top. Their hands softly grazing her skin. Remembering the way her skin reacted to their touch.
Wanda moaned as they wrapped their lips around her nipple. Wanda's hand went to the back of their head. Keeping them in place as they continued to suck on the hardened bud.
"Fuck." Wanda moaned lewdly when Y/N's fingers made their way beneath her pants and underwear. Thrusting slowly into her soaked core.
"We have to find her Mr Stark." Vision urged as Tony sighed.
"I have been looking for days Vision." He told him. "I haven't found a single trace of Wanda or the person who broke her out."
"What about Steve?" He questioned as Tony sighed.
"He only got there a couple of days ago. I already questioned him in Siberia." Tony informed him. "He knows nothing of Wanda's whereabouts."
"I don't know what this is that I am feeling Mr Stark but my calculations tell me it's love." Vision told him. "I can feel more with each day that passes."
"I understand that Vision." Tony sighed. "I am looking everywhere."
Y/N was thrusting inside her at a steady pace, the two sharing a kiss before Y/N looked in Wanda's eyes.
"I can't wait to breed you Wanda." They husked out. "Have the family we always talked about."
"Please." Wanda begged as she scratched down their back. "I need it. I need you. All of you."
Y/N grunted as they went faster and harder. Wanda reaching her third orgasm as Y/N reached their own releasing inside of her before they brushed the hair from her face. Watching as she caught her breath.
"I love you Wanda. Forever." They whispered.
"I love you Y/N. Always." She leaned up and kissed their lips lovingly. All of their feelings coming back in full force. The two old flames back together. Burning brighter together than they were when they were apart.
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lovelyhan · 10 months
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dunno if ure comfy being sent nsfw links but i IMMEDAITELY thought of streamer wonwoo and reader when i saw this 🫠🫠 https://twitter.com/sugarfemdom/status/1662648169510096900?s=46&t=-M95tJ5hXqBg8X7CbBlW4A
02:35 — WONWOO
🔞 nsfw link 🔞
i'm sorry but you're going to hell. straight to the boiler room. no excuses!!!!
p.s. read underlying pretense for a good chunk of context!
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this was meant to be a regular cosplay-fitting session. you've been receiving new sets to try both from thoughtful fans and sponsors in abundance lately and, while you have a rather...unconventional tradition with these things when your boyfriend comes into the picture, you really just wanted to try them on before hopping into the shower and preparing for your next stream.
meaning: you were being serious when you told wonwoo that you're not trying to get your brains fucked out while he defiles this precious, rather revealing catgirl set that borders on lingerie.
but of course, things rarely ever go your way.
"d-daddy, fuck."
wonwoo's grip on your hips is iron-tight as he pins you to the edge of the mattress—cock fucking into you with relentless precision. he gives you little room to squirm around and with how his eyes are pulled into a mixture of intense concentration and carnal desire, you don't think he'll let you get away anytime soon.
the ruby red mood lights paint his skin in a swath of erotic gusto as wonwoo mutters, "hold your thighs open for me. you can do that, right, baby?"
you nod all too eagerly—his perfect, obedient cockwhore—before doing as you're told. your eagerness frees up his hands and wonwoo wastes no time taking your pretty face in his grasp and leans down to capture your lips.
usually, it's all teeth and tongue whenever your mouths come together in the height of passion—a dizzying bout of lust taking the reins from what's left of your rationality. this time though, wonwoo kisses you firmly, thumb stroking the high of your cheekbone and you swear you feel him smile against you.
"beautiful baby," he whispers—his calculated thrusts slowing to a crawl as the praise makes you preen with a pathetic whimper. "you're cruel for thinking i could ever keep it in my pants when you look so fucking hot in this. who's the fucker that sent these to you anyway?"
fuck. you know it's only been a few weeks since you started officially dating, but you don't think you'll ever get used to wonwoo praising you so easily.
"i-i don't remember," you tell him honestly and your boyfriend merely chuckles, rising just a bit to give his hips more leverage to decimate your poor cunt. "shit. right there, daddy!"
the head of his cock rams against your cervix again and again and again—a sob caught in your throat as each drag stimulates you to no end. one of the perks of fucking you at the edge of your bed is that wonwoo gets to control just how deeply he can penetrate you.
he notes your desperate moans with a smirk, one of his large hands fitting snuggly around your throat as the other lingers by your face. when your boyfriend's thumb prods against your spit-slicked lips, you're all too eager to suck on it like a piece of candy.
wonwoo groans at the sight—the practiced cadence of his thrusts faltering for a millisecond before resuming the punishing pace he's set.
"don't you ever fucking wear this on your streams," he growls, hooking his other thumb into your mouth. when your boyfriend leans down again, you can feel his hot breath fan against your face. "for my eyes only. got that?"
in the back of your mind, you feel like you've had this conversation with him before. but the difference now is that you're no longer toeing around a complex situationship that you were too afraid to give a name to.
this time around, wonwoo is your boyfriend.
your extremely possessive boyfriend, apparently.
"only yours, daddy," you mewl as wonwoo molds your lips into another kiss that feels much too sweet for someone who's just staked his claim on you.
it brings you over the edge anyway.
the sensation of your velvet walls clamping down on his length when your orgasm slams into you is enough to drive wonwoo into bucking his hips against yours erratically. your boyfriend rides out the way your sweet pussy milks his cock for his release like it's begging him to fill you to the brim.
and who is he to deny you what you so desperately want?
wonwoo's hot cum paints your insides in his colors as your boyfriend engraves the sound of you screaming his name into memory. not that he doesn't have enough of that to go around, but whenever he makes you come, wonwoo likes to think it's a brand new experience each time.
though he wouldn't ever say it aloud, there's nothing more that he wants than to share even more of these moments with you.
"no, seriously, who sent you that set? didn't you already get rid of that old twitter account? i saw you deactivate it with my own two eyes."
you giggle at the clipped tone that accompanies wonwoo's words as he helps get you cleaned in the shower. after you wipe off a clump of soap suds that landed on his nose, you stand on your tippy toes to give him a kiss.
"i never gave my address out on twitter though, so it might just be one of those more daring cosplay brands trying to get me to become an ambassador," you reassure with a ditzy smile. "joke's on them though 'cause the only person who'll see me wearing cat girl lingerie is you."
when wonwoo grumbles, "damn straight," under his breath before turning on the shower to rinse off, you consider it as a win in your book.
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⟢ end notes: it's been a hot minute since i've acknowledged the existence of gamer!daddy!wonwoo so it's kinda refreshing to write them fucking around again :') i ALSO don't mind being sent nsfw links as long as there's a heads up lol we're all horny here <3
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mvltisstuff · 9 months
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Evan Buckley & female reader - a fic where instead of the firetruck crushing buck’s leg, it crushes the reader’s leg instead and the reader is in the firetruck when it explodes and Buck & reader have been engaged for 2 years. Buck is worried and scared and panics when he sees the reader underneath the truck. He helps her through the physical therapy of getting back her leg strength and helps her through how she is told she may not be able to be a firefighter again.
lots of angst, heartbreak, sadness, anger, fluff too 💙
love ur 911 fics so much ❤️‍🩹
are you with me - e.b
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summary: request
evan buckley x reader
a/n: i’m so happy you guys like my fics, i have plenty coming your way soon 🩶 btw this started off pretty strong and idk what happened toward the end w the quality
it’s never realized how much calamity one person can cause in such a large city. people get in their cars to go to work, they order a package, they stop at the store, and the last thing they expect is an explosion right at their feet.
over three million people in los angeles, and one forced 30 tons of weight onto y/n’s leg. it was just work. something she does every single day. of course, nothing in life ever remains the same, but this is really something you can never expect. you watch it in movies, or you hear about it in the news, only until it happens to you.
she knew the bones in her leg were crushed upon the impact, the engine thrown on its side. buck watched from a distance, being held back by the police. he would do anything for her. he wanted to tear this kid to shreds. he saw y/n’s broken leg under the truck and her head weakly lifting up. he could almost hear the pained gasps and whimpers from her lips. y/n, on the other hand, felt like she was in the center of the ring, the joke of this kid.
all the bystanders watched the scene unfold, the boy trying to summon the captain of the 118. it felt unreal. the noise and the truck shaking the ground they walked on.
buck thought he hallucinated the sparkling ring on y/n’s hand, somehow managing to remind him of the fight he was about to do. he vividly remembers the day he got down on his knee, bargaining the rest of his life to her and crying when she said yes. the whole team had been there, watching from a distance as her hand covered her mouth and lifted him from the floor. their wedding was being planned, every last detail needing to be perfect for the couple.
most people’s instinct would be to run away, but buck wanted to run toward the chaos. if y/n was there, so was he. his life mission has been to keep her safe, and knowing someone went out of his way to hurt her makes him go crazy. the exact moment that freddie was taken down with his overcomplicated vest, buck found himself running to her. he instantly fell onto his knees, seeing the ash and tears on her face close up.
she wished she couldn’t feel it, but she felt every part of it. she didn’t know anything. was her leg even connected to her anymore? buck moved himself closer to her so she could hear him over the murmuring of watchers.
“hey! hey, y/n,” he starts.
“it h-hurts so bad,” she whines, making him grimace himself.
“son of a bitch, ok. we’re gonna get you out of there, yeah?”
“please,” she begs, almost inaudible. buck stands up, calling for anyone he can to lift the truck off her, which was almost impossible with a few people around. hen was on the ground, connecting machines to y/n’s harmed figure.
“hang in there, y/n/n,” she says softly. “we’ve got you.”
despite his entire body weight being used to lift the ladder engine, it didn’t budge once. the only thing it did was echo the raw screams from y/n, poisoning bucks ears making his heart speed up. the adrenaline pumping through his system was making him think he could do it.
“do you have anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” eddie asks to a panicked bobby, trying to save one of his workers and best friends.
“it’s too heavy, it wouldn’t work,” bobby says as a light goes off in bucks head.
“more people,” he mumbles. “we need more people! hey! all of you, get over here and lift this!” he shouts at the mob of people observing the accident. not hesitating, the civilians sprint over and grab onto any part of the truck that they can.
y/n was in grievous pain, dreading the agony that would come when they finally lifted it. she was right, it was tormenting, releasing shrieks she didn’t know she had. before she could rethink everything, she was tugged from under and flipped onto her back. buck couldn’t peel his gaze away from the blood that has completely stained her pant leg and the parts of her leg that should be inside of it. complete shock and fear took over his body, but not enough to stand there with her the whole time. he watched chimney and hen bandage up her leg and move her into the ambulance, where buck sat next to her. hen was in the back with him, chim being the designated driver. unfortunately, y/n had been awake for the entire experience. from the second the engine flipped, to the second she was lifted into the ambulance. as much buck was grateful that she was awake, he almost wanted her to pass out. she wouldn’t have to endure this much pain, despite the morphine kicking in.
y/n’s hand twitched in bucks, “buck?” she grumbles out.
“y/n,” he makes note of her panicked state. “i’m here, you’re ok. i’m not going anywhere, honey.”
“someone should tell the city that we need a n-new truck,” buck laughs at her mind and how it works before running a hand through her hair.
“you don’t have to worry about that,” says buck. “you have no idea how relieved i am that you’re ok.”
“we’re getting married soon,” she realizes. “shit, we were supposed to get married soon-“
“shh, it’s all gonna work out, ok?” buck reassures. “i’d marry you no matter what, broken leg or not.”
“promise?”
“i promise.”
the hours sitting in the waiting room were grueling. maddie had left to be with buck, watching the entire scene go down on the news. even her heart ached, watching someone she already considers family have to face something like this. the whole team was anxiously waiting for the surgeon to come out and say she’d be ok. she held them together like a true family, being the most stable relationship they had. she was the part of the station that made their bond unbreakable. watching her vulnerable condition under that truck was almost intolerable. the time that she wasn’t in work felt like a missing puzzle piece.
weeks had passed since the bombings of LA, and buck had been there every single day. in sickness and in health, he hasn’t said the words out loud, but he swore to that since the day he met her. he knows that she would do the same exact thing for him, and he would spend every single day helping her.
y/n felt completely isolated in their small apartment, barely being able to leave the first floor. she craved work, she desperately awaited the day that she could return, but the injury in her leg hadn’t resolved. no matter how many times she tried to convince herself, she didn’t know if she’d ever be a firefighter again. at some point, she almost envied her fiancé for being able to go to work. he felt so bad for her, just wanting to give her her life back. the weekly doctors appointments were draining her of almost everything she had, every single one proving nothing. nothing that meant anything. the situation was completely out of anyone’s control, and she had consumed so much anger about it. anger at the doctors, the therapists, the kid, the 118, everyone around her.
buck was forced to sit back and watch, to act as a shoulder to cry on. he was the third crutch, the person she leaned on when she couldn’t stand on her own. there was no way in hell she could’ve done it alone. buck was the one to drive her to every appointment and helped carry some of the burden.
at the end of the day, there were two things that scared y/n the most. losing buck and losing her job. the two things that got her out of bed and the two things that gave her a true meaning. as time passed and every request to be back at work was denied, she swore her heart hurt more than her leg.
“y/n?” buck called out after arriving back home. she had been on the couch, watching another drama series about firefighters. “hi, how are you doing?” he asked when spotting her in the living room. she didn’t respond, just looked at the television with the volume low. he went and sat next to her.
“what���s wrong? did something happen?”
her eyes had already been bothered from tears of anger and frustration, and he could clearly see that with his own. “they called again.”
“wasn’t the answer you wanted?”
“i have been pushing myself every day for approval, and i have not gotten anything for it,” she says, dryly. “i have been killing myself to go back to what i love and why am i not getting anything?” her voice cracks.
“listen,” he tries to distract her from her own negativity and forces her to look at him. “i know you’ve heard this a million times, but you have to let yourself take the time to heal. if you go back too soon, you’re going to make it worse.”
her nose scrunches at bucks words, causing her to sniffle as he continues. “i know, it sucks, and i am so, so sorry. it’s just that none of us want to see you do more harm than good. we need you back as a firefighter, but i need you back to normal first. you’re worth so much more than this, and this injury is not going to take you out, we all know it.”
y/n opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out besides the small beginning of a word. she knows he’s right, but having to come to terms with that is the hardest part of it all. she begins to cry lightly again, her face in her hands as she leans forward. buck slides over, wrapping his arms around his distressed fiancé.
y/n took bucks advice, and now, she stands in the entrance of the firehouse. she walks in to see her uniform waiting for her in her cabinet, her gear untouched, and it feels like she was here yesterday. she feels at home here. buck follows her in, grabbing her hand and they restart the rest of their lives.
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solomons-finest-rum · 2 years
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Hello! I love your writing 🥰 and congrats on your milestone! I have a request —but no pressure if it doesn’t interest you!
I’m thinking of an enemies to lovers type scenario where Alfie falls for an Italian girl and resists it because we all know how he feels about Italians! 🙈But then he secretly adores everything Italian about her (her cooking, her accent, even her nonna haha) and falls in love, somewhat begrudgingly.
Thanks and have a good day! x
"Fire and Brimstone" — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)
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SUMMARY — You see, there were many things Alfie Solomons was prepared to let go of in this life or the next, but for you… For you, he would bring this city down to its knees.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you so so so much for this request and for the kind message ❤️❤️❤️ I hope I did it justice!
WORD COUNT — 876
Masterlist
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By the time Tommy Shelby rolled into town with his new Birmingham ways, everybody who was anybody in their world already knew Alfie Solomons was losing his turf war to Darby Sabini.
Though truth be told, that loss was brutal for both sides in equal measure. Any Italian boy that ventured closer to Camden Town than strictly necessary, would soon be returned home through the river current—throat cut from ear to ear. Sabini, like any good opponent, worked hard to return the favour, spite and malice included.
True, it was clever of Tommy to decide to use the bitter rivalry for leverage—but what he didn’t know was how it started. And, like any good revenge story, it started with a woman.
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What Alfie remembered most about these times, times he would thereafter try to think about as little as possible, was the food. Because you see, Darby Sabini was the kind of man that liked to show off what was his, and in this case, he liked to argue with Alfie that when it came to food, the Italians did it better.
“Nah, see, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend!” Sabini shouted for the entire restaurant to hear and motioned for you, the waitress, to bring more wine around.
It was your parents’ restaurant and you had been helping there all your life. After all, you definitely inherited your nonna’s culinary gifts. And you used them from time to time—especially if a certain Jewish gangster came around to pretend he never liked anything about your cooking in the first place.
“Even badly made pasta can be a good meal, all right, if the sauce’s good enough. Thank you, sweetheart,” Sabini continued his tale and raised the glass in a toast. Alfie had to raise his, though he barely touched it. “But now, see there Alfie, you try to make them matzah balls before? Yeah, them little buggers, you remember which ones. We used to eat them at your house all the time, you remember that? Yeah… One wrong move and poof! Gone! Basta!”
Alfie hummed at the theatrics, as Darby was entertaining the table in his usual Darby fashion, clapping his hands and exaggerating even his usual mannerisms. But the good food and what was a good company at the time was not exactly the reason why Alfie let the minor transgressions slide. Because of course he endured it all for you.
Whenever Darby dragged him to your parents’ restaurant, Alfie did his best to keep up the grumpy front all night and never really indicated that he enjoyed himself even a little. As for you, the nights he came by were some of your favourites. You loved the silent game of cat and mouse you had with Alfie.
Tonight you watched him nodding at Darby’s ridiculous anecdotes about their youth, sometimes you spotted him chuckling at this or that. One thing Alfie never managed to hide, though, was how much he actually enjoyed the food at this place. You knew it well and it gave you immense satisfaction. His plate would always be cleaned right out and he would bear Darby’s comments about it afterwards. You didn’t know it, but Alfie thought the food was completely worth it.
“Do you want to order anything else?” you asked in the general direction of the table as you came to collect the empty wine bottles, though you allowed yourself to glance once or twice towards Alfie when you thought no one was paying attention.
But Darby was. He always was and that was precisely why Alfie’s expression only grew darker and even less approachable; just to hide how much he enjoyed your presence.
“Don’t know, sweetheart,” Sabini said then entirely too loudly and placed a couple of coins on your tray as a tip. “See, my friend here is of, as you’d call it, curious taste.”
“Oh?” You turned around to Alfie and the way you smiled at him sent a shiver down his spine.
Alfie suspected, though, that the tale his friend was spinning wouldn’t be too favourable. He hoped you wouldn’t believe it.
“Yes, you might say he’s—”
“Heard you make your own ice cream,” Alfie interrupted, already fed up with whatever nonsense Darby was trying to say.
“Sì, naturalmente.” You flashed Alfie a smile and he hummed appreciatively. “I will bring you some.”
You left the table and hoped he would watch you do it, though when you turned around, Alfie was already back to placating his companion.
“I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, Alfie,” Sabini said to him, quieter this time.
“Yeah, an’ what’s that?” Alfie grunted.
“Breaking the arrangements.”
Ah. The arrangements were simple of course—the Italian women were off the menu, tonight or any night for that matter. Though to be honest, as Alfie nodded and finally shared the remnants of the wine with Darby in an attempt to lull him into complacency, he already knew that arrangements were done for. He could no longer just watch and not touch. He was done.
You see, there were many things Alfie Solomons was prepared to let go of in this life or the next, but for you… For you, he would bring this city down to its knees.
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bunnystalker · 3 months
Note
Pookie, you've got me thinking. After your headcanons about being Wesker's partner, and him being your bf and reacting to a breakup I want your opinion on two scenarios.
1. Reader who knows what happened with the STARS team and stays with him (whether by force or by choice)
2. Reader who leaves him and they have a reunion in a later game (maybe helping Leon in re4 or Chris and Sheva in re5?)
No pressure to write a fic or headcanons, I'm just curious what you think.
Stay hydrated! <3
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snookums... you're brilliant.
(first scenario)
anybody rational would leave. you're a rational person, so you tried to leave and he just wasn't having that. since taking that dose of the prototype virus, he's nearly unstoppable.
the last thing you remember is sitting him down and telling him that you can't, in your good conscious, stay with him. his expression quickly fell.
"i was only doing what's necessary, dear," he'd try to tell you, placing a firm hand on your thigh. the situation would escalate, he'd inject you with something, and then you'd be unconscious within minutes. you've never felt so unsafe in your life. like a dog, he'd keep you on a short leash. you're in a different country every few years to remain under the radar.
after the first year under lock and key, you realize that there's no escape for you. unless he dies, you're never getting out of this, and you're pretty sure he's not dying any time soon. what do you do? give in. give up. surrender and try to be the person you were before everything happened.
(second scenario)
the year is 2004. since the raccoon city incident you were involved in, the d.s.o has had your life in a vice grip. they molded and carved away at you until you became a shell of what you once were. you were 23 in 1998. at age 29, you're jaded. tired.
you've been sent to a small town in Spain alongside your fellow agent Leon to rescue the president's daughter.
truthfully, Albert thought you'd died in the incident. after he had told you about his plans for the future, you left. he poured hours into finding you, only to come up null.
when you made your deal with the d.s.o, they'd agreed to give you a brand new identity to keep you safe.
so imagine his surprise when ada tells him there's not one, but two little problems in their plan. one she knows, and the other she's unfamiliar with. the only thing she gives wesker is a birds-eye view of yourself and leon running to take cover from the mob of ganados.
instantly, he recognizes you. his blood runs cold. he never thought he'd see you again and truthfully, it's a kick in the teeth. so maybe he never got over you- surely you got over him, right? it's not like he could come out of hiding to bring you into his arms- he's not quite sure you'd welcome him back anyway. you're different now, that much is true.
he can't help himself. he seeks you out in a hurry, some sense of desperation controlling his actions. he knows it's ridiculous, but what is he supposed to do? leave you with a man he doesn't know or trust? absolutely not. he makes little attempt to disguise himself, no less.
the last thing you expect is to see him coming towards you as you keep watch, leon sound asleep beside you. on instinct, you grab your knife from its hilt and meet him halfway, keeping a friendly distance between you two. you don't smile or cry or even scream at him for what he's done. your silence is unexpected and very, very insulting.
"dearest-" he reaches out for you and you slap his hand away.
"don't. you don't get to call me that anymore." you point your knife at him, your eyes cold and hard. once hurt, you never forget. he hurt you- hurt everyone in raccoon city- and made you go through hell.
"how dare you be alive. you should've died in that fucking mansion with the rest of your team." you snarl and spit at him. you're not hurting him. in fact, he's just letting you get your emotions out. he grabs your hand holding the knife and lowers it, then uses it as leverage to pull you closer.
"don't be so unkind. the years have been hard on all of us-"
"you caused all of this. you're to blame. if you ever touch me again, you won't live to see another day." you swap the knife to your free hand and cut his forearm, forcing him to let you go.
and let you go he does. you let your words hang in the air and then retreat to your makeshift camp with leon, and like normal, wesker slinks into the shadows.
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maybe it's the cynic in me but i feel like people are celebrating wayyyyy too soon about tucker carlson no longer being on fox news and i'm asking y'all to tread very lightly for a few reasons:
we still don't know who terminated the agreement and why
now yes, it was a very sudden end, on friday evening tc apparently said he'll be back monday. but even if fox was the catalyst, that doesn't mean they suddenly got a moral backbone, or they'll stop showing a bunch of nazi shit on their platform. tc was raking in millions of dollars a night. if he's being scapegoated, that's an expensive fucking scapegoat. if he's been deemed a liability, the settlement money was just a drop in the bucket for the amount of money they make—not nearly large enough to dissuade them from doing this again. corporations exist to make money, and if the fox news people had any moral backbone it wouldn't have been some lawsuit that made them suddenly remember its existence
(i also want to add that i wouldn't be surprised if tc was trying to pull a matt walsh here and complain that fox was changing some rules internally, or maybe moving some money around, and tc was pissed enough that he walked away. given the amount of money this man raked in a night, this is incredibly plausible imo)
we don't know where fox news is going to go from here
we're talking about a corporation run by a bunch of people who were willing to (allegedly) incite and facilitate an attempted coup because it was making them money. we're also talking about a corporation that just lost one of their most prominent guys, who, and i'm gonna keep beating this dead horse, raked in millions of dollars a night. they're not just gonna throw their hands up in the air and decide they're going to become centrists. they're replacing this time slot with a rotating cast of members, and there's going to be a vacuum in the fox news space. they're going to start looking for someone to say the quiet parts out loud starting yesterday
(side note that i think it will be interesting to see them try to divorce the tc persona from the person in order to maintain it on their network)
we don't know where tucker carlson is going to go from here
people weren't tuning in to watch tc scream himself red in the face because they just love supporting fox news; they were tuning in to watch tucker carlson. and we'd be kidding ourselves if we thought otherwise, and if we thought tc thought otherwise. this man holds a massive amount of rhetorical leverage, he has the ears of over four million usamericans a night. he's not going to throw in the towel because he lost his fancy tv show slot. i've been keeping an eye on the regular forums and already his fans are coming up with conspiracies about fox news being a bunch of shills, censoring him, etc etc etc. he still has two legs, a lot of money, and a shit ton of supporters to stand on. and if he wants, he can suddenly say a whole lot more stuff now that he's not on prime time television anymore
we don't know where the fans are going to go from here
let's entertain the hypothetical that fox news is now going to be a center-right organization and tc is going to fade into the ether. that doesn't mean all those viewers and fans are going to follow suit. that's not how propaganda works. a vacuum needs filling, and this audience wants to keep hearing the same stuff. in the absence of a fox news and tucker carlson, they're going to search elsewhere for someone to watch. where are they going to go, parler? the place that has holocaust deniers on the home page on a good day? is that a loss for the radicalization pipeline?
i'm not saying not to celebrate or laugh or post memes or feel relieved or whatever. i also feel that way! but i also feel like this is an historic turning point for the course of the alt right and the united states as a whole, and we can't lose ourselves in our celebration and go to brunch because racism is solved. we need to be on guard these next few days. if you have loved ones who loved fox news, keep an eye on them (if that would be safe for you). i'm also going to throw our a quick "be safe" for everyone in jewish communities, it'll only be a hop skip and a jump for a lot of these people to come to the conclusion that someone (triple echo included) is behind this, and they probably won't be wanting to give them flowers. much love y'all, remember to drink some water
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gofancyninjaworld · 11 months
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(Almost) Everything You Need To Know About Pro-Hero Pay and Conditions in One Picture
This is the home of the second-ranked pro-hero, a much-lauded, hard-working hero and the de facto mainstay of the Hero Association:
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I wasn't expecting a mansion but *this*?
Not only is it nothing much to look at, but she seems to share it with her sister.
This is as good as it gets. Want more? See below the cut.
Wherever those billions are going, it's not to the pockets of the heroes who risk their lives. We knew that heroes weren't well paid, at least at Class C, and that the Hero Association leverages the fact that it's a non-profit to shame heroes into not complaining. I'm remembering the shock Sonic had when he impersonated Saitama and discovered how little the dude was getting paid (Majin Drama CD 4). He just couldn't understand how anyone would risk so much for so little reward. On the good side, it did mean that Sonic stopped harassing Saitama while the latter was working.
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Looks like the shitty pay goes all the way to the top.
This definitely adds a lot of context to individuals' decisions. A few to note.
It makes a lot more sense of why so many A-Class heroes have been moving into headquarters. The difference that not having to pay rent makes is large enough to be compelling. To the detriment of everyone who has lost their neighbourhood A-Class hero, but these individual choices are hard to fight.
Flashy Flash's remark about the mercenaries really resonates here. If money motivates you, this is definitely not a job for you. At any level.
It positively punishes anyone with caring responsibilities. Metal Bat drops everything to go pick Zenko up at the end of the school day? Why? It's not because he doesn't take his hero work seriously -- quite simply, he can't afford to hire a nanny!
It brings into sharper focus why, although Genos has come to accept being a hero, he treats the Hero Association like it's an expensive, vicious summer training camp -- because it's pure charity. His pay doesn't even begin to touch the sides of the costs of his hero work. As soon as he gets what he came for, he's gone. One can only donate for so long.
Along the lines of the numbers just not adding up, it makes a lot more sense of why Drive Knight is so careful about his engagements and tries to make sure that he gets something out of his efforts. Altruism is all very well but broken parts cost money.
Suiryu may have turned over a new leaf, but with pay as atrocious as it is, his love of money is probably going to keep him looking for alternative ways to be a hero. I hope we get to see the shock on his face when he finds out that, no, A-Class heroes aren't paid well. I think he's going to be horrified all over again to find that Sneck and Max put their lives on the line to help him for a sum that he wouldn't get out of bed for.
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Altruism is all very well but baby has standards he's accustomed to
Hero work has been treated as a prestige job: one where the realities may be awful, but the social cachet makes it desirable anyway. We can't quantify it, but the awful pay in itself must contribute to why the Hero Association is always recruiting as good people find that they care, but just can't make the numbers add up.
It's a shame. Nobody needs heroes to live like sports stars, but of all the things the public would like to see, having pro-heroes at least have dignity across the board would be welcome, and no one would mind if at the higher levels the heroes can have nice things.
Can you say things are ripe for a shake up? I sure can!
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jjsstars · 5 months
Text
thiamweek 2023: day 1, Liam’s parents
|| for @thiamappreciationweek event
|| tags : theo meeting liam’s parents for the first time, background mason/corey, liam’s step dad knows about the supernatural but I can’t remember if that’s canon or not — this is lowkey a crack fic —
“And you’re… Theo?” Raeken gives a shaky smile as he nods, hand gripped in Liam’s step dad’s a little too tight. It’s not like Theo’s never met peoples parents before, there were plenty of “relationships” he was in to get leverage for the dread doctors— but this is the first time first impressions really do matter, and he’s trying to be genuine.
“He seems tense.” Mrs Dunbar murmurs to her husband and he hums along, finally dropping Theo’s hand.
“We should eat.” Suddenly Theo’s wrist is caught by Liam’s hand and he’s being dragged over to the dining room table where Corey and Mason already sit, they’re here as a buffer for the new couple. Theo seriously debated kissing Mason and Corey when he found out they’d be there to keep things less tension filled.
“It smells delicious ma’am.” It doesn’t make Liam’s mom smile like Theo was hoping for, instead she gives a short nod that almost looks annoyed. What the hell is he doing wrong? It’s been ten minutes.
“Oh my dad cooked.” Ah.
“Well it smells great sir.” That gets him more a nice reaction, a smile and a nod. Liam said that his step dad might be more friendly than his mother, apparently she’s not a people person and how she ended up with someone as extroverted as Liam’s step dad is “totally insane” according to both Liam and Mason.
“Thank you Theo, it’s nice to be appreciated around here.” That’s all it takes for the rest of the group to loosen up, Liam throwing out a whine that he always says thank you at dinner, Mason saying he doesn’t and he just eats like a wild animal which makes Corey snort and share a look with Theo— it gets easier, thank god.
And soon enough dinner is cleared as is dessert and Theo’s able to settle down in front of the couch on a mound of blankets with Liam at his side. They agreed to watch a movie with his parents and while Theo has no idea why the hell they did that, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be horrible. Liam’s step father is busy popping popcorn with Mason and Corey at his side, Theo can hear the three of them bickering about what candy should be mixed with the popcorn. Liam has his head on Theo’s collarbone, he doesn’t smell as anxious as he did earlier which is nice.
But- Theo can feel Liam’s mother’s eyes boring into the back of his head. He repeats in his head that this is fine, it’s just motherly behavior, he thinks? He can’t be sure considering the whole ‘raised in the sewers’ thing. It’s unnerving even if it is normal. He doesn’t know what he did to tick this woman off- she’s not the one that knows about the supernatural, that’s Liam’s step dad and he’s been cheery all night long, so whatever Theo did is beyond him.
“Babe you okay?” He’s brought from his thoughts by Liam’s gentle voice, which is definitely a cover as he’s staring at Theo like he can see right through him.
“Yeah, perfect.” Dunbar’s lip twitches and he turns around enough to look at his mother- ah shit.
“Mom can you stop staring? It’s freaking us out.” Jesus Christ why is he talking to his mother like that? Does he have a deathwish? Even Theo knows that’s unacceptable-
“Sorry honey it’s just nice to see you with a partner.” Well that sounded far too genuine for someone with such a blank expression.
“It’s fine just- maybe not so hard?” She hums to her son and leans back on the couch, eyes drifting to the Tv as Theo tries not to choke on air. What the fuck was that?!
“Relax, she’s just bad at showing emotion.” All Theo can do is nod and blink a few times, he swears this relationship is going to send him into cardiac arrest at some point.
“Got it.”
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k-dokja · 1 year
Text
A/N: Basically I'm testing the new dynamic for YJH :') Set after the Seoul dome came down.
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The back of his hand hovers over the wooden door. The hesitation comes uneasily for him. He hates slowing down and thinking too much about what his actions would mean for those around him. Because when he lets the thought sit too long, it often encompasses him until the paralysis takes over.
Yet, there he stands in front of your door, deliberating. Regret crawls up the back of his neck for even getting this far, to come to you on an instinct instead of contemplating if you would welcome him. He thinks too much and he doesn’t think enough. His mind traps him at a stalemate and the only coherent action he should take is le—
“How long do you plan to stand out there?”
The door snaps open before his decision comes to be. He can see your ire radiating from your eyes alone. Has he been wiser, he would’ve apologized. But he is foolish and if he makes small mistakes then you wouldn’t be disappointed when he makes the big ones.
“Hmph,” he provides no explanation and barges into your room. He hears you yelp, but you sidestep fast enough to smack his back when he walks by. It doesn’t sting. Nothing you can do will hurt him. Save for the part in his chest which tightened around you.
You have access to his heart, you just don’t know yet. It’s strange how you can read him well, yet fail to read him at all. “You bastard—“ you grumble, sliding the door closed behind you “—at least, tell me what you’re here for.”
He steps to the middle of your bedroom. It’s tiny, barely furnished with the essentials. You’ve volunteered to take up one of the smaller ones in exchange for privacy. Your bed is the only area which looks lived in. The closet, the small desk, and the chair, all of them have barely been touched by you since everyone settled into their own rooms. He’s in no place for judgment, however. His own one looks vaguely the same, save for his bed which has been sat on.
“I’m leaving.”
He says. When he catches your expression, it is one of apathetic acceptance. He knows not of what to make of it, but he won’t hurry to the conclusion, seeing as you aren’t either.
“Where to?”
You cross your arms. There is a frown on your face, unlike the one you threw at him the moment before. You purse your lips, whatever you have in mind awaits his answer.
He weighs the decision and gives you nothing.
“Ha,” you smile wryly, “I see. Best of luck to you wherever you’re heading then. Remember to call when you arrived.”
The last statement is meant to be a jest. He sees it in your body language, forcibly loose and easygoing. He knows how to make it not forced, “I won’t have to,” he says.
His eyes meet yours again. There is a question in your eyes, but you won’t voice it, because the answer comes the moment after.
You sigh, exasperated but not displeased. “Fine, give me a moment to pack,” you huff. “Not that there’s anything to pack, anyway. We barely settled and you’re already leaving.”
“You can stay.”
“Don’t wanna, you can't just drag me around saying you need my support and drop me now because of 'consideration'. That's not how it works.”
"I didn't need—"
Your halfhearted retort comes muffled when you dig into the closet and fish out your utility jacket, “Besides, you always get to do the fun stuff. Anyway, it’s better to stick with you.”
He bristles, “Where I go is dangerous not—”
“Now, there’s a hint,” you flash him a grin, fitting on your equipment, “hunting some secret scenarios or getting some new artefacts?”
He glares at you but keeps his mouth snapped shut. It amuses you and infuriates him.
“No worries,” you chime, “I’ll get it out of you soon.”
“Hmph.”
He turns on his boots and marches out of your room. At least, you have the decency to keep quiet when the door is opened once more. He can feel your smile aiming at his back, but he won’t acknowledge it. You don’t need further leverage to squirm into his heart and take a permanent space.
But you already did and there was no undoing it.
“Stop smiling,” he scowls, no more than a hiss when the two of you stop in the hallway. His arm loops around your waist when his eyes narrow at you, “you look stupid.”
You don’t stop, but your hands loop around his neck with practised ease.
Whatever comeback you have coming is muted by the force of his shunpo, but your triumph remains fixed on your face even by the time the two of you stopped. He drops you down a long distance away from the company’s new dwelling, far from the hubbub and the cities.
He turns away from you and begins to walk. Because he knows you want to talk and if he won’t hear it now then you will complain about it later. Better let it unfold now than later.
You catch up with him quickly, and he won’t point out that it is because he has learned to match his pace with yours. For a while, you let the silence simmer and he almost dares to hope that you have let that go. But you’d never and he’s more the fool for entertaining that thought.
“So, do you want to talk about it?”
He doesn’t reply.
At least, you find no trouble in leading the conversation alone.
“He’s probably alive, you know,” you march next to him, dust kicked up underfoot, “out there, somewhere.”
“And getting into something stupid,” he says, fists clenched, “we’ll see him again, sooner or later.”
You laugh. It’s light and strange. “See, you’re adapting,” you say, “it’ll be fine in the end, you’ll see the conclusion of this together.”
“And even if we don’t,” he says. But when he opens his mouth, the words die at his throat. He shouldn’t say it to you. Kim Dokja might have accidentally shown him how to find and save you, but the thought of having to utilize that knowledge one day is accursed.
He shouldn’t think that. It won’t come to happen. He has missed you two lifetimes, damned if he will allow that to happen again.
“Hm… what?”
“Nothing.”
His pace increases and he won’t say that he wants to run from this conversation. Because if he did, there are much easier ways. You keep up with him, but he won’t face you.
He can’t see you then you’re not there.
“You know, this reminds me of when we were playing together,” you’re nice enough to change the topic.
Yet, when it should’ve lessened his discomfort, another nail hits the coffin. Nostalgia is a poison in his vein but if it was you then maybe you’d know how to dissipate the toxin. “We run together so often that it feels strange to do otherwise. You always charged ahead into every danger we come across, and I always got excited when I saved you from the fray.”
He snorts, “You didn’t save me that often.”
“An average of twice per match,” you tut, “you probably don’t remember because it’s long ago for you, but I can still recall when you pulled so many enemies, I busted my keyboard saving you.”
The corner of his lips twitch. He ignores it. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you got all of the best skills in this entire world and I’m only here as your emotional support.”
“More like…”
“What?”
He turns to you and lets the smirk show, “My minion.”
“Hey!”
You smack at him. He speeds up enough to dodge the strike.
“A cute one, at least?” You huff.
“Hm.” He muses. “More like an opo-opo [1}.”
You try to kick at him, but it won’t land properly. Your annoyance is clear on your face yet it is every bit acted. “Ha! See! You remember a lot about the games, don’t pretend you forgot all of my grand achievements again!”
“I can’t remember if there’s scarcely any.”
“Hey!”
[1]: Opo-opo is a monkey-like animal in FFXIV.
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smolweeblets · 1 year
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Unresolved tension
A/n: This is actually so bad im sorry,, things will probably sorted out in the next fic or so, please be patient while i find my writing style 😭
“Out of my way, Yelena.” You growled. This feud the both of you had going on has been going on for as long as you can remember. Both of you were at each others necks and both always tried to one up each other with who could make the other more mad.
It was never anything dangerous though, as much hate you two had for each other it was all just petty insults and dumb pranks. It was a silent rule for you both that neither would do anything to cause any serious harm.
Nonetheless, you still hated each others guts. And it seems Yelena was about to reinforce that fact.
“Oh? And why should I do that, shortstack?” She grinned teasingly. This was how it always started. One messing with the other, and them biting back woth snarky comebacks.
“I have places to be, unlike a lazy slacker like you.”
“Hm. Not my problem.” She gazed down at you, wearing that signature smirk that never failed to irk you.
You glared at her, not in the mood for these antics today. “I said move.” You just finished your last lecture for the day and needed to be somewhere important. But of course, she just had to be waiting for you. Like a twisted knight in shining armor.
“Oh? Why dont you just step to the side, or better yet,” She bends down to your level and whispers in your ear. “Make me~”
You step to the side but she blocks you, you step to the opposite and she mirrors you, seems she was not letting you out of this easy.
“Im going to be late. Im not in the mood for this today.”
“As i said, not my problem~”
Anger bubbled up in your chest at her words. You needed to go to an important job interview and you were not going to give her the time of day.
You stared her down while she tauntingly gazed at you.
You moved suddenly, you grabbed her shoulder and yanked her down to a more manageable height. Then you grasped her by the neck. Nothing too hard, just enough to hold her in place.
It mustve been the sudden action, the sheer unexpectedness or it. Or maybe she was just weird, you had no clue. But what Yelena did caught you almost as off guard as her.
She fucking moaned.
More of a groan maybe, but that didnt matter, it had all the same meaning.
Her eyes widened as soon as she realized what she let out. Her face turned bright red as she stared at you, eyes wide as saucers.
And you stared right back. Just as wide eyed.
It was a few agonizing seconds of you two being too stunned to do anything.
But soon, you slowly started smirking. You were going to go along with this, and you were going to use it as leverage.
“Well, that was certainly new.” You smirked. Yelena's face turned impossibly red. It seems that there were things that could make her shut up.
“Hm. Keep this up and we finally might have something else to channel our hate into~” You drawled
You let go of her as she gaped at you. you pat her shoulder as you turned to leave. Yelena continued to stare at you until you were out of sight. This may be the start of something new.
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douglasanondr · 8 months
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HC/AU: Satan’s Biggest Failure and Schezo’s Corruption
A Headcanon I’ve had for a while, is that for the most part Satan had a hand in or was the one that sealed the Runelord away. In my head this made sense, Satan for all intents and purposes is a God, and if Shin Madou is in anyway canon the Runelord was a threat to multiple universes (Gaia and Madou), so of course Satan had to put a stop to him or something. That’s what it all was for a while until I realized something.
That plan couldn’t’ve failed anymore than it did.
Not only is he no longer imprisoned, he had mentally broken and manipulated a child (Adult at this point), killed multiple mages, stolen undocumented amounts of magic, and managed to get himself into a comfortable place with not only his Jailor, but the descendants of the Betrayer and Goddess of Spacetime(another Headcanon), honestly the only thing that changed for him was a new body that did things on it’s own sometimes.
Which brings me to the topic at hand. Imagine, what would happen if the Runelord had re-emerged from Schezo’s mind (I assumed after finally breaking down, because for someone who was possessed by an ancient all powerful evil mage he’s taking it rather well) and started going on a rampage, how much of that would sting for Satan, A God who had a hand in sealing him away.
(Terrible!Artist rendition of them meeting up)
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This soon spiralled in my mind into a more tragic route. Imagine, if you will being Satan, you are now face to face with someone you had to seal away for the betterment of the universe, in the body of someone who you assumed was just power hungry in the literal sense, later realizing the man had almost no control of his actions. Someone who had to be mentally broken down more and more until the Runelord had enough leverage to take full control. And what were you doing between these events. 
Making fun of him. 
Not just making fun of him, actively encouraging others to do the same, to the point where his own nickname is more well known than his actual name. Sure, for the average man that could just be insulting, but for someone who was being mentally broken down day by day, how much of that would’ve sped up the process. How long has he been helping the man he meant to keep sealed away.
In the end, this could only lead to a loss either way, even when Satan ends up killing the Runelord for good (I mean he’s god and in this headcanon already failed once, he’s definitely killing him for good now) all that’s left is what remains of Schezo. either it could and up like my last HC post where I stated that when Schezo dies his soul ends up in the void and is unresurrectible. Or, more probable he finally gained full control of his body again, and all that’s left is a mentally 14 year old man, riddled with guilt of crimes he very much done, and was mentally tortured for years. Either way, he’s killing what is essentially an innocent man too.
And remember this is Satan, the Dark Prince, someone so hung up on the death of his wife he follows around her own reincarnation and rabbit creature she gave him, because he misses her. If he’s that hung up for something he had no control over, imagine how he’d feel for something he did have control over, something he was actively involved in, something he was suppose to prevent and failed at, ruining the lives of countless people, especially someone who would’ve never done the things he did to begin with if not for his failure.
IT WOULD EAT HIM ALIVE.
good thing this is just a headcanon
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blametheeditor · 9 months
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Incident 8092-16
Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of death and murder. Intent to kill. Death by anomaly. Blood and slight gore. Darker themes and tone.
SCP-8092's file
When proper research isn't conducted, you end up with an anomaly with too much leverage. Aka, Vincent
__________________________________________
"What do you mean a near containment breach?"
Scott Cawthon’s heart beats a mile a minute as he’s quickly led toward the SCP that nearly caused an entire site shut down. One that, if he remembers correctly, hadn’t been giving them too much trouble until recently. Fatal trouble to be exact. 
“All protocols had been adhered to-” 
“Like hell they were,” the containment specialist snaps, venom dripping from his voice as hazel eyes betray how the thought of this situation truly makes him terrified. “I know your team has been bending those God damn protocols ever since the first incident! They’re in place for a reason!” 
The shorter man that was graduated too soon from security officer to researcher allows a dangerous look to slip past his mask of nonchalance. “If we keep to certain protocols, we won’t ever understand what this SCP can do.” 
“And if we don’t keep certain protocols,” Scott begins, his tone low and measured. “We nearly have a containment breach. Or am I wrong to assume the sixteenth incident didn’t happen just out of the blue?”
There’s no response, and he doesn’t look back to see the reaction. They’ve had enough conversations he knows the anger that’s lurking just beneath the surface will be visible, be it a fierce glace or a particular vein looking more pronounced than usual. Alex Stoan has never reacted well to being told what to do, even if it is to ensure his own safety. 
Scott will admit, he’s not making it any better by pointing out how idiotic the man is. But if he doesn’t, no one else will, and that means the burden of ensuring the man doesn’t kill anyone lands on him. 
They take one last turn, entering into a room that acts as an observation for the cell its connected to. 
Scott almost sputters at the sight of no one sitting in one of the chairs facing the one-way glass, leaving an SCP that nearly escaped capable of attempting again, and this time without anyone to notify the site if it succeeds. 
“Will you explain-!” 
He hadn’t seen it coming. Out of everything he knew about the man who managed to talk his way into being assigned an SCP classified as keter on his first day as a lead researcher, who cut a few corners to try and understand a fairly new anomaly brought to the site as quickly as possible, he never thought such drastic measures would ever be taken. 
So he’s blindsided as he’s struck by two fists, one in his stomach that makes him loose his breath, and another to the face that sends him onto the floor. 
“The higher ups said you saw something you shouldn’t have seen.” 
Scott gasps for air as he struggles to sit up. He’s unable to yell as a hand grabs the back of his shirt before he’s dragged toward the door. 
Not the one leading back out into the hallway. The one that enters into the cell containing the SCP who killed someone only two weeks ago. 
“Wait-” 
One thing he’s never been and that’s stronger than Alex. Even if he wasn’t wheezing with his head spinning, he wouldn’t have the strength needed to fight back. It’s almost effortless to toss him into the brightly lit room before the door slams shut. Locked. 
He’s going to die. 
“They said you managed to spot an operation only a handful of people know about in the reports you so diligently look over,” Alex’s voice announces over the intercom almost every cell on site has. And while Scott can only see his own pitiful form lying on the floor in the large mirror, he knows there’s a sickening sadistic grin being aimed toward him from the other side. “They finally saw how much of a nuisance you are. Funny how the quality I hate most is the reason you needed to be silenced forever.” 
His head is still spinning. From the punch, hitting it on the floor, the situation, he doesn’t know. But he’s aware enough to spot a shadow standing motionless on the wall across from him. 
The sight makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He quickly checks his proximity to the wall beside him, scrambling to the very center. He then checks all his pockets, heart skipping a beat when it becomes clear he doesn’t have his phone on him. No way to call for help. 
Scott looks back at the shadow, shaking with fear as it continues to stand perfectly still. Not even attempting to walk the perimeter to see if it can grab him. 
“I have to admit, it’s impressive you remember the protocols of the SCP’s under your sector,” Alex says. It might actually have been the first compliment ever given by him if it wasn’t for the patronizing tone, and the fact he just locked Scott with an SCP to get killed. “But those don’t really help you if something goes wrong...” 
“NO!” 
Half of the lights shut off. 
Scott lunges to the other side of the room, further away from the door, but also away from the shadows. He finally manages to get to his feet, panting from pure terror as he tries to keep a good distance away from both the dark side of the room and the wall to his back. The only problem is with half of the lights out, his own shadow is no longer a small circle around his feet. 
“Well isn’t this interesting.” 
Maybe it’s because its prey is effectively trapped and therefore can take as much time as it’d like. Maybe it’s because it never expected a situation such as this. But instead of reaching out toward the human to reenact Incident 8092-10, SCP-8092 only seems to watch the trembling human from the shadows currently covering half of the room. 
That’s when he realizes the voice hadn’t come from the intercom. 
“Naw, humans are so cute when they’re scared.” 
Scott doesn’t dare say a word. However, he can’t help a fearful scream as the shadows that seemed to have been inching closer suddenly pull away and leaving over half the room bathed in light. 
“Don’t be shy! Promise I won’t bite.” 
It’s hard to describe the tone. It’s not patronizing despite the words being used. It seems to be genuine. And Scott doesn’t know if this is better than getting killed. 
...he’s going to die anyway. 
“See! Nothing to be scared about,” SCP-8092 coos as Scott slowly takes a few steps closer, tensing as he prepares for the shadows to once again cover the space he now stands. Waits for them to engulf him before he’s ripped to shreds. 
Yet nothing happens. 
“I was never told you were this communicative.” 
“Really?” SCP-8092 questions with a genuine tone of surprise. “With how many times I’m told to shut up, I expected it was because their supervisors are annoyed by the long scripts constantly being reported.” 
“Your file is a bit lack-luster.” Scott glances toward the mirror, anger managing to replace his previous terror. “So, the ‘warnings’ before Incident 8092-10.” 
“Was me getting pissed and giving a detailed threat of how I would kill the next expendable human that walks through that door,” the living shadow huffs. “Wouldn’t have happened if they listened.” 
He wasn’t aware just how much personality SCP-8092 had, either. Nothing was reported about how it didn’t automatically react with hostility. Just awareness of how terrifying it can be. 
Though it can’t be a coincidence the shadows are still covering the door. Even if it was unlocked, he’d be taking a great gamble trying to reach it. 
A dark chuckle let’s him know he was right to be suspicious. “You know, I heard the reason why you were thrown in here.” 
Scott’s heart beats wildly against his chest. “That I’m technically considered expendable.” 
“Ding, ding, ding,” SCP-8092's grin evident in his tone. If only he could actually see the humanoid silhouette in the darkness seeming to constantly shift. “And of course I can’t have my reputation getting questioned.” 
Scott can hardly breathe as the wall of shadow slowly flattens across the floor becoming two large hands, seeming as if they’ll cup around him at any second. 
He knows the true intention. With SCP-0892 finally revealed and standing directly across from him, it looks as if it’s about to clap. 
He’s read the file. As soon as the shadow meets his own, it’ll be as if he was actually smashed like any annoying pest buzzing too close for comfort. 
“You understand, don’t you?” 
“B-But then you’d, uh, be g-giving them what they want.” 
Just like that, the shadows vanish from around him and back to their side of the room, this time with a sliver of light to illuminate SCP-8092. “That’s why I like you. It’d be nice to have someone with spite to have a little fun with. What do you say? I let you live if you make a deal with me?” 
Scott’s chest heaves as he’s given the ultimatum of death, or a living hell. All based on the fact he does want to spite those who wanted him to be killed for doing his job. 
It was something as simple as times not matching up on the reports. Scott telling those with security clearance level 4 there might be an issue with security. Because if personnel isn’t truly leaving a room before an experiment is being conducted, then someone could die or an SCP could get out of containment. He had been told to look for those kinds of things. 
Yet here he is, inside a locked room with an anomaly that has no qualms with killing him. Because he did his job. 
“...what kind of deal?” 
“I can promise you protection.” 
Scott waits. Nothing else is said. “That’s it?” 
“That’s all you need, isn’t it?” SCP-8092 asks, and there’s a hint of smugness. “Protection from getting killed, be it by my hand or any other SCP?” 
“Do you think making a deal with me will grant you freedom from containment?” Scott growls. “It won’t. They’ll require you stay in here. Meaning the second I step out of that door, he’s just going to throw me into another cell so I do get killed.” 
“I can protect you from here.” 
“Like hell you can.” 
SCP-0892 gasps dramatically. “How did you know that’s where I’m from?” 
Scott sputters before glaring at the laughing shadow. “This is extremely unprofessional.” 
“I’m an SCP that was captured and given terrible hospitality in which I don’t even have a way to defend myself if, say, some dumbass flashed a light at me not realizing that would be the end of me, and you’re saying I’m unprofessional,” is deadpanned. “I never break a promise. From this room, I will protect you from any death other than that of old age in which a human can never escape.” 
“And what do you get from me?” 
The anomaly hums in thought. “Your shadow.” 
Scott glares. “That’s ominous.” 
“That’s what I was going for.” 
He stares at the living shadow for a minute. Watches as it seems to waver as if it was cast across concrete on a hot summer’s day. Looks at the only exit from this room covered in darkness. Lifts his head toward the mirror he’s uncertain if his would-be murderer is currently staring at him through. 
“How do we make a deal?” 
“Give me your name.” 
It seems like the room dropped to a freezing temperature as SCP-8092 allows the curtain of shadows to spill onto the floor, darkness coating every inch save for a small area around Scott’s own shadow. 
God, what is he agreeing to? 
“Scott Cawthon.” 
Everything goes completely still. 
The shadows coating the floor suddenly spring up, no longer hindered by the second dimension they had once been forced to be in. But before he can scream, expecting to be crushed, he’s suddenly weightless. As if he fell through the floor. 
And then he’s sitting in one of the chairs in the observation room for SCP-8092's cell, the entire room covered in light once more, no sign of the anomaly anywhere. 
As if it was all a nightmare. 
“How are you not dead?” 
Scott looks up at the growl in time to see Alex reaching out for him. Most likely to drag him from the room and to another SCP. Just like what he thought would happen. 
The hand never reaches him. It happens almost instantly, a blade as dark as a shadow forming inches from his face before slicing the limb off effortlessly. 
Scott jumps away with a scream, horrified at the sight of the man falling to the ground as he shrieks in pain. 
“See? Easy to protect you from the room, Scotty.” 
Scott screams again at the voice he recognizes as SCP-8092 speaks directly behind him. Trips over his own feet only for a hand to grab his arm, another his shoulder so he doesn’t fall to the floor. Stares into pure white eyes void of pupils, an insane smile grinning down at him, a man the color purple raising an eyebrow when he stops breathing all together. 
“What, don’t like the new look?” 
“It’s y-you?” 
“The name’s Vincent, by the way,” SCP-0892 hums as it pulls Scott properly back onto his feet. It- Vincent doesn’t let him go, leaning in with a grin as he whispers. “Just don’t go around saying it too much. Not unless you want me to appear without warning.” 
Scott’s mouth opens and closes without sounds, staring at what was supposed to be a two dimensional shadow. That’s supposed to only be able to use the shadows of objects. That’s supposed to be unable to make a three dimensional blade seemingly appear out of thin air to attack someone dubbed as a threat. 
God, what did he do? 
“And before I forget,” Vincent begins. As if there isn’t someone bleeding out a few feet away. As if Scott doesn’t look as if he’s two seconds away from exploding from rage. As if he isn’t currently out of containment after escaping effortlessly. “I can only protect you within a mile radius, so go beyond that and you’re tempting fate.” 
Scott can’t help but feel he was better off getting killed. 
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carewyncromwell · 1 year
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“For they are all my children, all that I swore to defend -- It is my duty to become both queen and trusted friend.” 
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HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri​​ // Carewyn’s outfit inspired by this gorgeous concept art for a special edition Snow White doll
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Cardverse content! Cardverse content ahoy! ❤️ 
I’ve actually had this sketch unfinished in my sketchbook for a while, but I finally got around to fully editing it...this is Carewyn at her coronation, when she first became Queen of Hearts! Yeah, she does look a little less than excited about it. But hey, when you become Queen not because you want to (on the contrary), but because it might be the only leverage you have to stop the woman who’s tyrannically taken over your country of birth as a despot queen and to somehow protect your brother and mother from that same woman...yeah, that crown is going to feel really bloody heavy. Especially when there are so many people suddenly counting on you to succeed: not just your new partner, the current King Declan, but also the previous Queen Rosalie and the countless citizens you now represent. 😞
As you can see, though, even on this grand day where she’s dressed to the nines, Carewyn still holds onto a bit of modesty, with her hair in a modest braid and wearing her regular green Club earrings that Orion gifted her so many years ago. And despite the slightly melancholy stoicism of her posture, she held her head up high and spoke with the conviction of a general, when she addressed her new people as Queen. 
“Not long ago, I journeyed here, with naught but dreams of advancing my education. Yet in my short time here, you have welcomed me, and for that, I shall always be grateful. It is for this gratitude -- and for the love I have grown for this land that’s embraced me -- that I shall fight to protect, provide, and advocate for you, as your Queen...for however long that you have both a want and need of me. Although this crown...is not one I ever would have chosen, for myself...I’m truly honored by our fair Queen Rosalie’s faith in me, as well as King Declan’s, and all of yours. Your faith in me is a gift so priceless, I don’t think I could ever be worthy of it...but I will try my best to honor that faith, all the same. From the bottom of my heart...thank you...and long may our Kingdom prosper, long beyond this Frabjous Day.”
Carewyn didn’t socialize that much at the coronation ball afterwards. Both she and Declan were much more attuned to speaking about important matters of state with their court and foreign representatives than small talk, so they almost simultaneously decided to withdraw and enjoy their guests’ levity from the sidelines. 
“Will they really not mind if we just sit back?” Carewyn asked. Even with how much she dearly wanted to do just that, she didn’t want to offend anyone. 
“Not at all,” Declan reassured her. He then offered her a slightly more mischievous smile. “Just remember to keep your head up, sit up straight and tall...and smile and nod slowly whenever you make eye contact with someone. Makes you look more regal.”
Carewyn bit her lip to hold in a laugh, before accepting the arm Declan offered her and following the older man back to the thrones at the back of the hall. The two royals then proceeded to chat more casually for the rest of the night, sometimes about politics, sometimes about the party and its guests, but occasionally also slipping in the odd reference to the works of Charles Dodgson, now and again. (Declan was very well-read, and he was actually rather happy to have someone else around who enjoyed talking about literature.) 
The best thing about the coronation, however, was what came two days later, when Orion was finally able to come up from the Land of Clubs himself. Carewyn had been surprised and delighted enough to see her old friend again so soon...but when she saw that he’d not only brought her a white Abraxan of her own as a belated coronation gift (which honestly had been overwhelming enough!), but also a blond-haired traveling companion who at the sight of Carewyn was so full of pride she couldn’t hold in her tears.
Carewyn herself was crying just as hard herself when she ran forward, right past Declan, Orion, and her dear new Abraxan horse. She paid them or any reactions from possible witnesses no mind -- chucking out all of her usual stoicism and composure completely, she dashed across the courtyard to Orion’s open carriage and threw her arms around the older blond woman standing in front of it, latching onto her as if she never wanted to let go again.
“MUM! Mum -- Mum...!”
Carewyn’s voice was as choked and adoring as a child’s -- as if her whole heart had burst, and the emotion locked inside behind that dam for so long had flooded every inch of her being. Lane’s voice was a mere shadow of her daughter’s, hushed in the back of her throat and unsubstantial, and yet overcome and aching with relief, love, and pride. 
“Winnie -- oh, my Winnie...my baby...my baby...”
The two held each other for close to ten whole minutes, stroking each other’s backs and hair, rocking each other back and forth, shaking, and crying all the while. After three years of painful separation, doubting whether they’d ever see each other again...here they were -- together and free. 
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melanielocke · 1 year
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The Stars Collide - Chapter 31
After that cliffhanger, I shouldn't keep you waiting. I'm considering writing a sequel to this fic once it's finished in which Grace would be the main character. I just reread ChoG and ChoI to prepare for ChoT and I would die for Grace Blackthorn and also really like her story in this one, which you'll learn more about in the next chapter, though it'll be spread out.
Alastair went to open the door, perhaps Thomas had forgotten something. Perhaps Thomas realized it was too much for him to carry by himself and needed Alastair to come and help. Or perhaps Cordelia had already come upstairs with some other things and had just arrived.
He opened the door to stare into the face of Augustus Pounceby, and suddenly he remembered. Augustus, who was in the military. Who had worked for Charles, and had helped along with the project and experiments. He’d never quite been sure if Augustus was involved with it, had never seen him at the lab, but Augustus was not a scientist and Charles had needed support from military officers as well. Alastair had suspected though, from the frequent visits to Charles.
‘I’m going to need you to come with me, Carstairs,’ Augustus said.
Alastair took a step back. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Leave me alone.’
Augustus took his phone out of his pocket and showed a picture on it. Alastair had to take a closer look to see what was going on, but then he realized it was a child, hands tied up and a piece of cloth bound into his mouth. Rostam.
‘Where is he? What did you do to him?’
‘We need leverage, Carstairs,’ Pounceby said. ‘A guarantee that you won’t do the same thing you did to Charles. We need you to finish the experiments, and if you do not cooperate, the child dies.’
‘You can’t,’ Alastair whispered. ‘He’s just a child.’
‘And if you don’t want anything to happen to him, you’d better come with me right now.’
Alastair didn’t see a way out of this, no way to tell Thomas what had happened, where he was. He didn’t even know where he was going, what message was he even supposed to leave?
He followed Augustus, who took a route hidden from sight, somewhere Thomas wouldn’t pass, and led him to an airship. An airship, not a spaceship, they weren’t leaving this planet. That was a good thing, Thomas and Cordelia were far more likely to find him on the Fair planet.
‘Where is Rostam?’ Alastair asked once they were boarded and the ship had taken off.
‘He’s on his way as we speak,’ Augustus said. ‘It’s a several day journey from Turan, but he’ll be with us soon enough.’
It was illegal to take children into outer space. As far as Alastair knew, it had to do with growth and bone density, too much time spent in outer space as a child would result in smaller growth and possibly even bone density issues. If they brought Rostam here, he was not sure if it was possible to take him home.
‘You can’t. You have me now, you don’t need him anymore. Please, just let him go,’ Alastair said.
‘No. We know what you’re capable off, we know you killed Charles. I’m sure you’re starting to remember too.’
‘I remember,’ Alastair said. 
‘So we need a guarantee you won’t pull the same shit again,’ Augustus said. ‘You and the child will stay in our new facility until we’ve reached the goals of our research. Charles’ death has complicated the project immensely, no one expected you to be such a pain in the ass.’
Alastair didn’t say anything else, what was there to say? He was stuck here. He didn’t know how long the flight took, he fell asleep at some point and woke up still in the air. He had to look outside, take in the scenery. He needed to figure out where he was going. They were flying over woods, an unusual forest that seemed to go on everywhere he could see. Of course, this had to be Lightwood. They were flying over Lightwood. That was important, but who could he tell?
They landed on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere. It was freezing cold over here, Alastair had never known the Fair planet to be this cold. They transferred to a submarine, which took them to a different undersea lab. How had they even be able to build these structures without anyone knowing? Exactly how long had Charles been planning this before he’d first taken Alastair to the lab?
Augustus dragged him to a room with a bed and a small bathroom attached to it. There was a second bed, kid sized. Was this where they intended to put Rostam too? He’d known these people were evil, of course, but he’d never expected they would be willing to kidnap a child to get him to cooperate. Rostam had to be so scared.
Augustus locked the door behind him, leaving Alastair alone in his prison cell. He wondered when the experiments would start, how long he’d have to stay in here. He wondered where Thomas was now. He had to be devastated, terrified. But there was no way for him to figure out where Alastair had gone this time. No one would be coming for him. Alastair collapsed onto the bed and burst into tears.
‘He can’t be far,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m going to warn the guards, Charlotte, everyone.’
‘Hurry,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’ll call my mother again. Do you think Rostam disappearing is connected to this?’
Thomas didn’t know for sure. But if Alastair had killed Charles through the machine, and the people who’d done the experiments wanted to use him again, they’d want to make sure Alastair would not try something like that again.
He called the guards first, telling them everything he knew as quickly as he could. They promised they’d start investigating right away. It hadn’t been very long and Alastair couldn’t have gone far, could he?
He knocked on the door of the Queen’s office, and entered once she called to come in.
‘Thomas,’ she said. ‘It’s so good to see you. Is Alastair with you? Did he remember anything?’
‘He’s missing. I just left him in our rooms for maybe twenty minutes, and he’s gone. I’ve informed the guards, they’re looking for him, he can’t have gotten far.’
‘Are you sure he’s not still in the palace?’
‘He was tired, he wouldn’t have left our rooms, and he left his phone behind too. And his younger brother is missing too. Alastair’s mother called Cordelia, her youngest child is missing too.’
Charlotte frowned. ‘Prince Rostam? But he lives on Turan.’
‘Yes. He disappeared there. But I’m thinking it might be connected, that they might be using Rostam as leverage.’ Thomas took in a deep breath, should he tell this? ‘One of the experiments killed Charles. Unless Alastair cooperates fully, the experiments could kill people again. They’ll want to make sure that doesn’t happen.’
‘I knew Charles must have had the stroke in that lab,’ Charlotte said with a sigh. ‘But it was the experiment himself? Dear stars, what was he doing?’
‘Charles wanted to try to take some of Alastair’s power for himself. It didn’t work and Charles died,’ Thomas said.
He left out the part where Alastair had pulled back on purpose, how he’d wanted to stop what was going on. He didn’t think Charlotte was ready for that.
‘Oh, why, Charles,’ Charlotte said. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘I’m not sure what exactly Charles’ goals were with the experiments,’ Thomas said. ‘But after enhancing his power, Alastair could erase and alter people’s memories. He would have use for something like that in politics.’
‘I understand that,’ Charlotte said. ‘Alastair’s powers are useful, and potentially dangerous in the wrong hands. I always admired Alastair’s ethical boundaries, the way he kept his power to himself.’
‘He wanted to come to you,’ Thomas said. ‘To tell you what Charles was doing. He’d never wanted to participate in the experiments. But then the people made him forget. He’s not going to be punished for participating in illegal experiments, right?’
‘Legally, he’d be considered the victim even if he’d consented to participate,’ Charlotte said. ‘He’ll be alright, once we find him.’
‘He can’t be far yet,’ Thomas said. ‘The guards are looking everywhere.’
Thomas returned to the ship, Cordelia was still there and on the phone with her mother, Lucie beside her working on her charms.
‘Any news?’ Cordelia asked.
‘Nothing yet, but everyone’s on high alert and looking for him. He can’t have gotten far. I’m going to call Christopher. The only lead we have right now is Grace Blackthorn, Christopher’s lab partner.’
‘You don’t happen to know where she lives?’ Cordelia asked.
‘No, but Christopher might.’
Thomas confirmed with Christopher that he was in his lab and went there. It would be easier to talk in person, Christopher never liked making phone calls.
‘Tom, I’m so sorry about Alastair,’ Christopher said. ‘Do you truly have no idea where they might have taken him?’
Thomas sat down on one of the chairs in the coffee room of the lab, sighing deeply. ‘No. Everyone’s on high alert looking for him. But we have one other lead now.’
Christopher sat down in the chair opposite of him, his head bowed down. ‘I heard about Grace.’
‘Yes,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m sorry. I know you liked her.’
‘I barely knew her,’ Christopher said. ‘But I liked having her here. The best discoveries are made in cooperation, and Grace and I worked well together. But she was so closed off, I barely knew anything about her. All I know about her past is the story she told when you and Alastair visited, about how the Edom empire had taken her home planet.’
Thomas didn’t know what to think of the story. How much of it was true? The Edom Empire took planets all the time, and it was so powerful no one but the Raziel empire could stand against it. If they were involved with the experiments, that was bad. If they found proof and presented it to the Raziel empire, what then?
‘Why would Edom wish to perform experiments here of all places? With all the sneaking about, the secret labs,’ Thomas said.
‘Didn’t you know?’ Christopher asked. ‘Powers are not divided equally among the universe. They say the Edom Emperor has powers but no one knows exactly what. However, for some reason no one within the Edom Empire is born with them. And the seven planets have an unusually high rate of powers.’
‘I did not know that,’ Thomas said.
‘That’s why we’ve done so much research on the topic despite being a small part of the galaxy,’ Christopher said. ‘The Raziel Empire has relatively high rates too, I’ve heard, but Edom could never access the Raziel Empire.’  
‘Charles must have sought power somehow,’ Thomas said. ‘And allied himself to the Edom Empire, offering Alastair to experiment on.’
‘Edom might have wanted ways to take power from others,’ Christopher said. ‘It’s the one thing they do not have.’
‘But why?’ Thomas asked. ‘Why Alastair? Why Tessa and Lucie? And why no one in Edom?’
‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’ Christopher said. ‘I’ve never liked that I don’t understand it. There seems to be a genetic component considering Lucie inherited Tessa’s powers, but James has no power at all. I theorized it might be something to do with nearby stars and radioactivity in space, but I can’t find big enough sample sizes to test that theory.’
‘So Edom must have gotten lucky with Charles,’ Thomas said. ‘Alastair’s power is an interesting one and if they could have it harvested or moved into one of them, it would allow them to expand their power, their empire. Charles was a fool to think they would not crush him once they saw the chance.’
‘But that’s not why he died, is it?’ Christopher asked. ‘The timing… Charles’ death put them all behind, they lost access to Alastair.’
‘So they started trying to kidnap him,’ Thomas said. ‘And now they succeeded. Alastair must be so scared. It was hard enough for him, being in the old abandoned lab.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Christopher said. ‘I wish there was more I could do to help. Alastair’s been connected to my machine, perhaps with the proper alterations it could be used to find him, but I don’t know how long that will take.’
Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘You think that’s possible?’
‘Maybe,’ Christopher said. ‘I’ll get to work straightaway. I’m not going to let you down, Tom.’
‘Take care of yourself too, Kit,’ Thomas said. ‘I appreciate what you’re doing, but don’t neglect eating, or sleeping.’
He guessed he would have to come check on Kit every once in a while. As useless as he felt, at least he could bring Christopher food while he worked. It was a good plan, a solid plan. Thomas couldn’t say he understood the magic technology Christopher used, but if there was any chance it would allow them to locate Alastair he would take it.
‘Kit, you don’t happen to know where Grace lives?’
‘She has a place in the city,’ Christopher said. ‘She’s registered here, I could look up her address for you.’
‘Good,’ Thomas said. ‘Then Cordelia and I are going to take a look.’
@alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @astriefer @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs @boredfangirl16 @artist-in-soul @bottomdelioncourt @ikissedsmithparker
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birlwrites · 1 year
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This is probably a weird question, but, back when they still pretended to be civil, did Bellatrix ever torment Sirius with the fact that his parents genuinely liked each other? I feel like that was the kind of thing that would horrify him (-gasp- Mother and Father having relations because they liked it and not just to have an heir and spare?) and she is the sort to hit where it hurts. (first time they meet after he runs away -smiles- I'm sure Reggie will be an older brother soon)
anon that last sentence is just so-- *chefs kiss* SHE TOTALLY WOULD
i think this is the sort of tormenting that would have a DRASTIC change in tone over the years. not in the sense that bellatrix would deliver it in a particularly different way, because she'd always be smiling, but the undertones would be quite different
like what i'm envisioning here is a general 'ewwwwwww grosssssss' on sirius's part when he's younger and the tormenting is as friendly as bellatrix gets
bellatrix is old enough that she actually remembers a lot of that courtship happening - orion and walburga got married when bellatrix was 8. so she has stories, and sirius HAAAATES hearing them, so naturally bellatrix torments him with them
he stops reacting to it once the novelty wears off (and i doubt regulus ever reacted as dramatically as sirius did) so bellatrix gets bored and stops
and then after sirius runs away.
honestly i could see bellatrix full-on lying to sirius about a pregnancy just to send him into a tailspin - i don't know if it would work precisely the way she intended, but i do think it would be very disconcerting for sirius - the notion of this entirely new person, being brought into the inheritance drama against their will/knowledge when sirius has only just figured out how to walk away from that, and also the idea of.... another sibling??? when it's just been him and regulus for basically sirius's whole life (certainly his whole life that he can remember). and ALSO the proof shoved right in his face of how ultimately replaceable he is, and how his parents must have really thought they could get him back in line and were waiting for that day, and as soon as he showed them it wouldn't happen, bam, replacement time
re: being ultimately replaceable and how that would sting, i mean it mostly in the sense that it just... really confirms for sirius that his parents never cared about him beyond his role as heir to the family, and that he was essentially wasting his efforts trying to leverage that role because, after all, they had a spare
and trying for another spare *now* might be a tad concerning for him, because like... do they think something is going to happen to regulus, or do they want a spare as a threat to keep him in line, because then *he's* replaceable as well?
not to mention the idea of regulus in the role of 'elder sibling' is REALLY weird for sirius and he's kind of absolutely positive regulus would be shit at it, especially since if sirius has already picked up on the power dynamics of having yet another spare, *regulus* definitely has, and he's probably not remotely happy about this younger sibling and they haven't even been born
but in general i think bellatrix could torture sirius with tales of domestic bliss in grimmauld place now that he's gone. he doesn't *want* to care, but it still hits him really deep, because of course it does, and bellatrix would have no compunctions about telling him he was the problem all along. and even if he is like 'i KNOW bellatrix is just saying whatever she thinks will upset me,' he has no idea how much of it is true
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