#investigators said the wood was scorched

[whumpster-fire]

Rikki Tikki Dalby

The only species of venomous snake native to the British Isles is the European Adder, and it is never found on the Isle of Man. But the creature winding its way up the rutted lane towards the old stone farmhouse wasn’t.

It would have seemed a trick of the light to anyone who glanced at the road, and it would have been hard to do more than glance because it is the nature of the human mind to protect itself. It appeared as a shadow of inky black, shimmering as it weaved from one side of the road to the other, leaving patches of withered, rotted grass where it touched the vegetation on the edges. It was only as broad as a human arm, with little sign of the sheep that it had consumed, but it was hard to tell where its head was, and its  tail didn’t seem to have an end, just stretching on and on.

It wasn’t from here. It had slipped through a gap, a small crack in the world, as snakes do. But now it was here, and it was hungry. Sheep wouldn’t satisfy it. Too dull, not enough brains, not enough spirit. It   wound around and around the house, sniffing at the air, probing at the stone walls. It smelled better prey inside.

The serpent crept up the walls and through the windows and down the chimneys, until it was certain that only one human was inside right now. It would feed now, and stay here and wait for others to come.

The girl heard it enter the room. She heard the scraping of scales, and a weird hiss like the static of a wireless. But she was used to hearing odd sounds in this house. She sighed, but paid the noise no mind and stayed bent over the table, focused on her schoolwork. She never looked up as the serpent coiled and reared up, preparing to strike.

Easy prey. Too blind to notice the predator in the room.

SNAP.

The light vanished. The gray overcast sky blotted out by nothing. No light to define the serpent’s form, no shadows to hide it. There was no electricity in the farmhouse, but the air filled with the smell of ozone.

Two points of red light appeared in the blackness, and rapidly expanded until it was clear that they were eyes. Blazing scarlet, the subtle patterns of color in the irises dancing and writhing like flames and  breaking free of the edges of each eye, flattened slits of pupils appearing to perpetually shrink without truly changing size.

The serpent turned from its intended prey and struck at the eyes, but hit only stone. They opened again in the other direction. Then more eyes, then more, and more.

SNAP.

The weak light of the gloomy day returned to the kitchen. A bolt of shadow whipped across the room, carving deep into the floor. Shards of stone flew, and the farmhouse shook. The girl screamed, and leaped to her feet, but there was such a great force resisting all movement, and so little binding her or anything else to the floor. It was like moving through treacle. She ran for the door, but her feet just slid as she began to tumble in the shimmering air.

The serpent found its new target, coiling and knotting around a small, disgustingly warm body. It struck again and again, sinking fangs so inimical to life that anything should have been snuffed out with one bite into what should have been flesh. A shrill squeal burst crockery on the counter, but still it struggled.

Then came the explosion. The implosion. The wall of wrathful sound that tore the windows from their frames and the serpent’s cloak of shadows from its body and scattered it around the room, turning everything to night again.

The girl hit the ground hard, skinning her knees and elbows. She lay there in shock, paralyzed with fright at what seemed to be an entire thunderstorm crammed into the kitchen. Something long and sinuous thrashed and writhed, scattering chairs and tables to splinters, blindly seeking a streak of light and flame. For a moment she caught a glimpse of the form of a small animal, back arched, fur standing on end, fur alive with rippling arcs of ghostly fire of the blinding color and intensity of a bolt of lightning, and an eerie blue glow that seemed to pierce through even the walls. She flinched away and closed her eyes, but that image was burned into them for a long time. Sparks of color burst in her vision, and there was a strong taste of metal in her mouth, though she was sure she hadn’t bitten her tongue in the fall.

The serpent was lifted into the air, writhing and fighting to escape now, but it found no purchase on anything. The room was too wide, too long, even for its endless length to touch the walls. There was nothing around it but eyes and teeth and flame. It was pulled, twisted, and tied into knots tighter and tighter until it was bound into a compact, tangled ball, and its death throes fell still.

When the girl found her feet again, there was nothing but the scorched remnants of broken furniture and shattered pots in the kitchen, and a dusting of ash on the floor, and the pieces of something sinuous and impossibly long, now dried out and crumpled and broken and dried out and burnt. More of it littered the ground as nothing but scattered bones.

A high-pitched voice from nowhere laughed. “That was the best sport I have had in years, but you are too small and you taste empty. Send your big brothers and give me a proper meal, I am tired of rats and poultry!”

It is a mongoose’s nature to hunt snakes.

~~

So I had a silly idea. Gef is a mongoose, a creature best known in folklore for being a relatively harmless critter that hunts and kills things that are much, much more dangerous to humans. So what if Gef was a small, friendly eldritch abomination that protected his people from much, much nastier enemies?

(incidentally, the “ghostly fire” is ionized air, and the “eerie blue glow” and sparks of color are Cherenkov Radiation generated in the air and inside Voirrey’s eyeballs! Gef may be a boastful little shit but his warnings are truthful!)

#my writing #Gef the Mongoose #Lemon Demon fandom #cryptids #technically rpf #but its Gef's original creator #and she's no longer around #i wrote it for the devilment #there's too much liiii-iiight #investigators said the wood was scorched

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 15

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 4,500 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smuttish. Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, peril, and a cliffhanger…

Part 15: The Tower

You dreamed of Medellin. 

Of being back in that mansion on the cliffside, during a Colombian summer. Sometimes it was sipping a vodka cranberry by the pool. 

Other times, it was getting poker lessons from Loco and Saul while Frank smoked a cigarette. Or reading by yourself in the garden, surrounded by yellow flowers, as the salty wind from the nearby waterfall kissed your cheeks and rustled your sundress.

And once, it was getting caught by Ben on your way back to your new, bigger room. Pretending to be coy, fully aware of him following you, feeling his stare on your ass.

Then when you got to the door, you paused and turned in the doorway, boldly meeting his gaze. 

And you pulled him inside your room by his shirt, just like you had the first time. He pawed at your dress, those heavy hands dragging underneath, probing between your thighs.

You held him to you, reveled in the scrape of his beard against your neck, sighed shakily in his ear as he walked you back, your ass bumping into the dresser.

Ben turned you around. You allowed his manhandling as those hands wrapped around you and found your breasts, kneading every curve before he bent you over on the dresser. 

You braced yourself on the hard wood when those nimble fingers of his teased you through your underwear. Soon enough you sucked in a sharp breath, felt the burn of the lace ripping off, sliding from between your already slippery folds. 

But before he gave you what you wanted, what you were begging him for without words, he reached around and took your face in his hand, encouraging you to lift your head. 

Your gaze found his in the mirror, scorching lust and naked desire. And yet, you still wondered what he saw when he looked at you.

You just couldn’t know that he was wondering the same thing. 

But he forced you to watch him, to watch yourself as he entered you. Your mouth opened on a gasp. 

You woke in bed with a jolt as your cell phone rang and vibrated on the nightstand. You pressed a hand to your rapidly beating heart and sighed. 

You didn’t quite remember the dream, but your skin was tingling all the way down to your toes. Not to mention the suspect heat between your legs…

You grabbed your phone, frowning in annoyance at the caller ID. 

Fucking Butcher again. But you answered, and he had unexpected news for you. 

When you eventually hung up with him, you got ready for the day. Ben must’ve already been awake, as his side of the bed was empty when you woke up. You later found him sitting on the porch outside in an old wooden chair, smoking a cigar.

How can he smoke so early in the morning? you thought with a shake of your head. He looked up at you, his lips lifting around his cigar. 

“Morning,” he said, puffing away. 

“You shouldn’t be hanging out here in the open,” you reminded him. 

He shrugged and reached out a hand to you. Sighing, you took it, and he tugged you over to sit in his lap. You waved the smoke out of your face, giving him a look of amusement and disbelief.

“Where the hell did you find a cigar?”

“Had it ordered in,” he said with a smirk. “That French fuck knows his shit.”

You shook your head at him with a small smile. You assumed he meant Frenchie. 

“We gotta go,” you told him. “Butcher just called.”

“Churchill can calm his tits for ten more minutes,” he said. He offered you a puff of his cigar when he caught you eyeing it. “Want to try it out?”

You grimaced, but part of you was curious, as you had never smoked one of these before. You took the cigar and inhaled a bit, and immediately started dying. This was nothing like smoking a joint.

“Shit,” you coughed out smoke. Ben rumbled with laughter, and you playfully hit his arm. 

“Here, take this thing back,” you said, still coughing. He rubbed your back and took the cigar from you. He continued to puff away. 

“Lightweight,” he teased you. 

“Old man,” you countered. “Out here in the heat with your day slippers.”

He glanced down at said slippers with a slight raise of his brows. Then he rolled his eyes. 

“Eh, fuck off.”

“Mhmm,” you said wryly. And you took the cigar from his mouth.

“Hey!”

Ben didn’t appreciate being dragged all the way back to Supe Affairs, just to be told they couldn’t nail down Stan fucking Edgar.

“I got you Neuman. So what’s the damn problem?” he groused. 

“We haven’t been able to find anything concrete to pin him with, legally speaking,” said Hughie. 

You, Ben, Grace, and the rest of the team had gathered in a large conference room near Grace’s office. You sat while Ben stood to your right, his arms crossed grumpily. 

“What the hell does that matter?” Ben said. “We know what he’s guilty of. I’ve been ready and waiting to take out that fucking weasel.”

“He’s got a bit of a point, actually,” Butcher said. Annie raised an incredulous brow at both of them. 

“Because we can’t go around assassinating people,” she said. “That’s not what this group is about.”

“You’re a late comer to this fucking group, to be fair,” Butcher pointed out, crossing his arms as well. M.M. shot Butcher a look that said, really?

“We do have Victoria,” you spoke up. “Even if she isn’t holding anything else back, she can still help us.”

Grace considered you. “Yes. She can get through his network and give him a call, try to set up a time to meet.”

“And what then?” Annie asked, gesturing at Butcher and Ben. “These two assholes vaporize him?”

“We know they cloned Black Noir,” Hughie jumped in. “Along with a lot of other experiments that are so not fucking legal. We just need to find evidence in the lab.”

“And in the meantime, we get ahold of the slippery bastard,” Frenchie added. You nodded in agreement. 

“The sooner he’s behind bars and Vought is dismantled, the sooner I can bring my family out of protective custody,” you said. 

Grace then turned to M.M. “Marvin, what do you think?” 

All eyes turned to the man, who took in the various stares with a resigned sigh. 

“Let’s get this shit over with,” he said.

With a plan made, Grace, M.M., and Butcher went to visit Victoria upstairs in her holding cell. They coached her through her call to Stan. 

Meanwhile, Ben could care less about how the others eyed him with mistrust. (Well, Hughie tried to “buddy buddy” himself by offering up a cup of joe, but Ben mostly ignored that cum-guzzling moron.) 

No, he’d expected that. He noticed more how they treated you, still with polite distance and awkwardness, making glances between him and you. 

“You don’t seem to understand just how much shit I’m in for trying to help you right now,” you’d said to him once. 

Ben understood a bit of what you meant now. 

You later led him out of the conference room and to the cafeteria with your head held high, but he could see that you were hiding it. How people’s stares and whispers were affecting you as the two of you walked down the hall. 

He had plenty of practice with that, letting attention (wanted or otherwise) roll off his back. But Ben realized that he’d marked you now, in more ways than one. 

You later picked at a caesar salad while Ben was busy inhaling his second Italian sub. He subtly watched you, wondered what the hell you were thinking. 

Before he might’ve bit the bullet and just asked you, your phone buzzed on the table.

You read the text from Butcher in the group chat:

Stan agreed to meet Neuman. Tomorrow night at her apartment.

“Good,” you breathed in relief. And you showed Ben the text. He nodded around a mouthful of salami and provolone. Though he had a bit of mustard at the corner of his mouth.  

You smiled a little. Grabbing a napkin, you reached over and wiped it away. Ben let you do it. His lips curved as he watched you while chewing.

“Okay, let’s meet up with them after this. There’s going to be a lot to set up,” you started to say. But your phone trilled once again in your hand, this time a call from an unknown number. Frowning, you answered the call.

“Hello?”

“He knows you’ve got her.”

Your expression slackened at whose voice was on the line. Ben noticed, and it actually made him pause on taking another bite of his sandwich. 

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” you said tersely. 

Your father sighed. “Listen. Stan has no intention of meeting with Victoria.”

You reluctantly perked up at that. Ben raised an expectant brow at you. Your lips pursed; you really wanted to hang up on principle, but you knew you couldn’t. You held up a finger at Ben that said, wait. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“Exactly what I said. He knows you have her. He knows you’re trying to trap him,” said Jon.

You sighed, rubbing at the ache starting to form between your eyes. But then your hand fell back to the table. Your expression hardened.

“Did you order the fucking hit on me?” you asked. 

“Sweetheart—”

You closed your eyes. 

“No. No. You don’t get to sweetheart me after you broke my fucking ribs,” you snapped. “Did you know?” 

Ben’s frown darkened as he finally realized who you were talking to. His hand curled into a fist on the table. 

“…No, I didn’t know,” Jon replied. “Why do you think I’m calling you now?”

“I really don’t know,” you said. “Why the hell are you trying to help me? Isn’t this a conflict of interest?”

You heard a heavy sigh on the line, and you waited. Your patience was starting to thin. You could also see Ben’s mood darkening now that he knew you were talking to your father. You angled yourself slightly, so he couldn’t reach over and grab the phone from you. (You saw his fingers twitching.) 

“He crossed the line sending Black Noir after you and your sister…and your mother,” Jon said. “I can help you on this.”

“There’s no world in which I’d ever trust you again,” you said flatly. 

“You’ve just gotta think here,” said Jon. “Do you want Stan Edgar or not?”

Your lips pursed. But you listened to what he had to say.

When you eventually hung up, Ben walked with you back up the stairs to the conference room. He watched you explain to Butcher and the rest of the team what your father had said, and what he’d proposed as a solution to the problem of Stan Edgar. 

Stan was due to come into the office at Vought Tower for a meeting with presidential candidate, Robert Singer. With Jon’s help, they could squeeze through a gap in security and intercept Stan before the meeting. The idea was to arrest him, but if Black Noir made an appearance, then that was Soldier Boy’s cue. 

And all bets would be off then. 

After Ben sat through the more boring logistics, he was relieved when the meeting finally dispersed, with the goal of meeting back here bright and early tomorrow. 

Even back at the safe house, you were antsy, pacing back and forth across the living room. Ben had changed out of his supe suit into some jeans and a shirt, and he now watched you from the kitchen with a beer. 

He wanted to ask you what you were planning on doing for dinner (and when, for that matter). But he was pretty sure you’d verbally bite his head off if he mentioned it. 

Not that he was afraid of that, by any means…but he’d just rather not get into it with you right now. Not when things had been going good for the past few days. 

So he went into the living room to sit on the couch. He was about to turn on the TV, before you sat down heavily in the lounge chair beside the couch. Your face looked so pensive, so troubled as you rested your chin in your hand, that Ben let out a breath. 

He set down his beer on the coffee table. Then he sat back and crossed his arms, glancing over at you. 

“If we’re going to do this, you need to get your head on straight,” Ben said. 

You looked over at him, not willing to admit you were upset (and that he was right), but unable to lie either. 

“Let me figure out dinner,” you said instead. You got up, but Ben’s voice stopped you.

“When you see him, don’t give him an opening,” he said. You turned to meet his eyes, and you knew full well who he meant by him. 

“You’re smarter than that,” Ben added, giving you a more reserved smile. 

You crossed your arms. Emotion rose high in your throat, and it threatened to choke you as your eyes started to burn. 

“Am I?” you asked. 

Ben’s attempt at a smile faded at the sight of your burgeoning tears. He sighed deeply, and he held out a hand to you. 

“Come ‘ere.”

Your head tilted in slight confusion, but you went to him. He took your hand, and once again guided you into his lap. He settled you across his thighs and soothed a hand over your hair. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt for support, and you sucked in a shaky breath. 

“Bet you wish I’d knocked him a bit harder against the fucking wall,” he quipped. 

You uttered a laugh at his dark humor, wiping at your eyes. “Heh. Maybe. It’d certainly make my life less complicated.”

You sighed and rested against his chest, leaning your head on his shoulder. A smile raised your lips when his arm slid around your waist and held you. His thumb soothed back and forth across your thigh. 

And it was then you knew that he really did care about you. 

You turned into him, and hid your face into his neck when your tears burned anew. This time for a different reason, as you realized what this meant to you. How this man had broken through your defenses and slipped his way under your skin.

You had a suspicious feeling that he was there to stay, no matter what happened after this mission was over.

“Want me to finish the job?” Ben offered, barely even half joking. 

“Ben, please,” you implored into his skin. You shook your head, and your fist curled tighter into his shirt. “Just…”

Ben hesitated, but he held you more securely. He soothed a hand up and down your back. 

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “We had a deal didn’t we? Long as I’m around, you’ll be all right.”

You nodded with a sniffle, and Ben felt your tears against his skin.

His hands really itched to finish the job he started with your father—and rip out his throat next time. Matter of fact, as soon as he saw that limp-dick piece of shit, it was on sight.  

And with that bone-deep thought, Ben knew that this was different. What he was doing here with you meant something to him. Whether you knew it or not…

(And you will, he thought.)

You…were his. That was just how it was going to be. 

He decided this in his mind, after he pressed a kiss above the patch of bruising along your temple.   

You were his. 

The following morning, Stan straightened the blazer of his navy suit as he got off the elevator. 

His office lied at the top floor of Vought Tower, and it was newly renovated after the battle that took place last week. His bodyguard opened the glass door for him before he stepped through. 

He reached his new desk and sat down at the plush leather office chair, took up a freshly brewed mug of coffee (cream, no sugar), and enjoyed a satisfying sip. 

Then his bodyguard was pulled away from the front of his door, thrown down the hall. Stan raised his head, but didn’t startle as the door was wrenched open. 

“What the fuck! Not yet—” Starlight’s voice in the hall. But the next guest in his office was a different former employee.  

Soldier Boy stepped through in his familiar green suit. 

Stan remembered when this version of the suit was commissioned, to replace the dull gray with a pop of military color for marketing purposes.

“Good morning,” Stan greeted, raising his mug. “Care for a cup? Perhaps a donut.”

“Still fucking smarmy,” Ben said. He stood in front of the man’s desk, flexing his half-gloved fingers. He glanced up at the walls of this office, this tower in the sky. “We’ve been doing this dance for a long time, you and I.”

“And yet, on entirely different tempos,” Stan replied. “How can I help you, Soldier Boy?”

Ben raised a finger. 

“See, that’s what I can’t fucking stand. A goddamn hypocrite,” he said. “When you came to me in ’84, you said partnering with the military on that Nicaragua mission would call back to my unveiling in ’44. Forty years of service in the making.” 

And forty more that would be stolen from him.

Ben’s hand clenched into a fist. “My mistake was believing you.” 

“And my mistake was replacing you with more of the same,” said Stan, with his usual bland stoicism. “For all that you’d claim otherwise, you and Homelander shared more than just chromosomes.”

Stan stood from his chair, but was discreet in pressing a small button under his desk. 

“In all this posturing, I see an insecure child, yearning for attention,” he continued with a mild shrug. “Your strength is…nothing but a mask for how truly empty you are.”    

Ben’s jaw tightened, but he resisted losing his temper. He knew that would only goad this little prick on. He watched as Stan rounded his desk, pulling his hands behind his back.

“The cold truth is, you sold your humanity so that someone in the world would deign to love you. And if not, to fear you,” he said simply. “I sell it to win.” 

Ben’s senses prickled just in time to raise his shield against a metal spike aimed at his head. It ricocheted and speared into the ground. 

Stan frowned; this tile had just been replaced. But he stepped to the side as Black Noir burst into the office and went for Soldier Boy. He carefully avoided the fight as his bodyguards came to pull him out of the fray. 

Stan’s eyes only widened when the first two guards were shot dead by Billy Butcher and his team. 

While a fight brewed in Stan Edgar’s office, you were in the familiar bowels of the tower, back in the Security & Surveillance command center…with your father. 

The two of you had taken control of the room, dismissing the on-site personnel, and now were in the process of evacuating the tower. At this point, who knew what could happen in the fight between Ben and Black Noir. You weren’t willing to abet any collateral damage, even here. 

Out of several monitors on the big screen, you kept one eye on the fight in Stan’s office. You and Jon noticed a breach in the hall.

“Butcher, you should be on your way out already,” Jon told him through the communicator in his ear. “The secondary team is also on its way up.”

“Right.” 

You watched with a measure of concern. Butcher seemed to be waning against a common security guard. He’d needed M.M. to grab the guy from behind and hurl him into Stan’s desk. Stan himself was plastered against the far corner of the wall, letting his security attempt to subdue Butcher and the rest of your friends. 

Your eyes moved to Black Noir. He’d also brought the same gun from last time—the one that had disrupted Ben’s powers. He was evading well enough so far…

“Soldier Boy is dangerous,” Jon said, breaking your attention from the screen. “However he’s managed to manipulate you into thinking he’s a good guy, there’s no hiding the fact that he can’t control that fucking A-bomb inside him.”

Your lips pursed in annoyance. 

“Oh, he is dangerous,” you agreed. “He wanted to finish what he started, caving in your skull as well as your chest. If I were you, I’d duck out quick when this is done.” 

Jon didn’t answer, but when you glanced at him, you saw the way he stilled, his jaw tensing. 

“Aren’t you glad I dropped him off at the lobby?” you quipped. Then you pressed a button on the control board and overrode the overhead speaker in the Administration office, where you saw people still milling about. 

“Evacuation was not a request,” you said into the speaker. “Put down the fucking chai tea latte and exit through the stairwell to the garage please.”

Jon turned to you while sitting in his chair. 

“After this is over, you’d be smart to start fresh…I could help you.”

You met him with a flat glare. “Now that’s just plain delusional.”

You had half a mind to get Ben on the comm to let Jon know exactly what he’d be in for if he tried to take you anywhere, but you didn’t want to distract Ben right now.

And maybe he didn’t know that you were alone with your father. 

Meanwhile, Jon’s mouth firmed into a line. A tendril of wariness (and maybe fear) laced down your spine. Your hand slowly moved to your belt…but he merely inclined his head. 

“All right. Maybe I deserve that,” he said. “But no matter my methods, I’ve always sought the best for you.”

“The best for—” You paused with a sharp sigh. And you steeled yourself before you replied. “I don’t know what fucked up fantasy world you’re living in, Jon. But after I left, I could finally see it clearly. You are the reason I hated myself.”

Jon didn’t show the true depths of his reaction. That wasn’t his way, but his steely eyes hardened as they held yours for a long moment. Then, he turned back to the screens. 

You released a subtle breath, though your hand stayed resting on your belt. 

Only Ben and Grace knew the truth about the injuries you’d sustained after being picked up at Vought. This time, you weren’t without a weapon. You had a gun on one hip and a taser on the other.

Ben had only agreed to your role in the mission because you’d called for backup. They should’ve been here by now, actually. In fact, they were supposed to meet you in the lobby, before you met up with your father.

Maybe they got stuck in traffic, you thought. You’d been checking your phone for the past ten minutes. 

But then a silent text came in: your backup team had just arrived. In fact, they strolled into the command center in full tactical gear, with guns drawn. Seeing the room was clear except for you and Jon, Frank nodded to Loco and stepped further inside.

“Hey, welcome to the party,” you said, greeting both men with a grateful smile. Jon glanced at you, then the men with a frown.

“Who the fuck are these two?” he asked. 

“My reinforcements,” you replied tartly. You felt better with them here as your spine untightened a bit. 

Frank nodded at you and remained standing to watch the door, while Loco grabbed a chair at your side. You gave him the lowdown of the control settings on the dashboard in front of you. 

“Oh shit,” Loco said when he glanced up at the screen. You followed suit, and a gasp fell from your mouth. 

Ben managed to unmask Black Noir. 

The helmet hung from Ben’s gloved hand. It was Earving all right, but it also wasn’t. His eyes, normally a dark brown, were misted over with gray and almost lifeless. 

“Noir, destabilize him,” Stan commanded from his cowering corner. The supe seemed to hear him, and only that order.

Ben realized now what these fuckers had done. Not only did they create this Noir clone with Homelander scraps, but they’d made the perfect soldier. One that only took orders. 

Butcher noticed too, with widening eyes. Fucking hell.

But he had to brace a hand against the wall as a hacking cough rose unbidden from his chest, worsening the roiling pain in his stomach and the ache behind his eyes. Hughie grabbed his arm to support him, and his face was picture-perfect concern.

“What’s wrong?” Hughie asked. Butcher couldn’t answer him, because on the last cough, a spew of blood coated his hand (and the younger man’s shoes). Hughie’s eyes widened. 

“What the fuck’s going on with you?” he exclaimed. Butcher just grabbed his arm and pulled him a few feet over, so they wouldn’t get caught in the blast of Noir’s energy gun. 

Ben was grappling with him. He focused on summoning the nuclear power collecting in his chest. All he needed was one clear hit, and he’d be able to end this motherfucker for good. 

But before he could fully charge up, Black Noir aimed a well-placed kick to his sternum, sending him back a few feet. It gave Noir the opening he needed to shoot Ben right in the chest with his energy gun. 

An electrifying blue met pulsing red, and swallowed it up. It took Ben along with it. Luckily his shield was clipped onto his back, so it didn’t get eaten up in the initial blast.

Now, he fairly crackled with red and blue fractals, which coursed together into a violet haze. He felt dizzy and wrong, knowing that all this power had to come out. But if that happened, he knew he couldn’t contain it. He didn’t know what would happen. 

Part of him knew it would solve his problem, killing Noir, Stan, Butcher, and the rest of those assholes in one powerful swoop. 

No collateral damage. 

It was your voice in his mind. And he remembered you were here too, somewhere in the Tower. He closed his eyes, a strained yell erupting from his throat.

He couldn’t stop it. The sheer force brought him to his knees before he could angle it up into the sky. Instead, it released into the ground below. 

The nuclear blast tore through concrete like a drill, and it didn’t stop until it reached the very foundations of the tower, deep into the earth.

Afterwards, everything was still. Ben could only stare into the chasm below him while he caught his breath. 

Until the ground, the walls, everything began to tremor and shake. 

“Oh shit,” said M.M. 

During the blast, he’d held onto the far wall with Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie. But now, he grabbed Annie’s arm to pull her up. The shaking grew worse with every second. 

“What the hell was that?” you commed in. No one could answer you yet, but at least it let Ben and the rest of them know that you were alive.

Annie reached out to Hughie, who grabbed onto her hand in relief. He also helped Butcher straighten, putting his arm across Hughie’s shoulders. Butcher glanced up at Black Noir, who was heading towards Stan. Meanwhile, Ben was stumbling to his feet. 

“It’s gonna come down like the fucking Eye of Sauron!” Hughie shouted. 

Butcher shared a grim look with M.M. “Like the bloody Twin Towers.”

AN: 🫨 The Tower's falling! But how'd you like Ben contemplating getting his hands on Jon? 😏

We're heading into the real action here, folks!

Next Time:

You pressed a shaking finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Ben, where are you?” you asked. Maybe he heard the tremor in your voice, because you certainly read the concern in his.

“You’re not on the second floor. Where are you?”

You closed your eyes for a beat. “On the first floor. The garage is blocked and Noir has us bottlenecked.”

“I’m almost there. Just stay put,” Ben said. His tone was firm, and it reassured you. You nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. 

“Yeah, not going anywhere in a hurry,” you whispered.

Keep Reading: PART 16

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann83 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

#The Tower #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 15 #zepskies writes

[tinaoof]

When he died

Seems like he left behind

A mansion full of other people’s skulls

The odd thing is they never found his own

When he died

He somehow left behind

Strange symbols on the floor beneath his corpse

Investigators said the wood was scorched

When he died

They found so many scorppions inside

His bones

When he died

The statues of his missing children cried

What was later found to be his blood

When he died (on a dark and tormy night)

They telephones his wife (who reacted with delight)

But gradually her voice began to fade

To nothing and the laughing record played...

When he died

They found a message etched into his spine

That said, when he died

An endless age of untold nightmares would be nigh

And the blood would make the seas run red

When he died (on a dark and stormy night)

A nearby shed caught fire (it simply caught alight)

And when they cleared the charred wood from the ground

Inside they found a painting of a clown

He’d painted it when he was jsut a child

But scrawled upon the back

Was exactly when he died.

#lemon demon #lemon demon spirit phone #lemon demon song #lemon demon when he died #when he died #spirit phone #spirit phone when he died #art #song art #song fanart #lemon demon fanart #lemon demon art #spirit phone art #fanart #artwork #digital art

[creepypasta-archive]

GO TO SLEEP – Renegades story

by Renegade

The raver's fantasy. A pair of brewskis with the Jeffrey

CW// acid deformation, amputation, murder, blood

Click below to read the original unedited story

One strange night, just as it hits midnight, a young boy was walking home from a Weekend Rave. He was just an ordinary thirteen year old kid that snuck out by telling his parents that he was going to a friends house for the weekend and lied about his age to get into the rave. Anyway, while walking home he heard something fighting in a forest, so he decided to have a look to see if it was one of his friends. When he got there he saw a person in a white hoodie and black dress pants with a knife running and slashing his way through the woods. The kid didn’t know what he was chasing, or why he was chasing it. He could smell alcohol as the guy, well he thought it was a guy, ran past. The man looked like he was bleeding or had some red liquid sprayed on him. At that moment the kid shrugged and left. “Just a stupid drunk” he said to himself walking away, then out of no-where he hears more fighting so he goes back. A tall man in a suit was attacking the guy in the hoodie, so the kid threw a rock at the guy in a suit and it hit him in the arm. At that moment the whit hooded guy slashed at the suit guys arm, cutting it clean off. The kid gasped and ran out of the forest as fast as he could. On his way out he feels an intense heat suddenly appear out of no-where, so he stop to look behind him. The forest was on fire. He ran faster then before, making it out of the forest. He looked back for a second and could see the hooded guy impaled on a tree. He ran past a grave, strangely one of the tombstones was smashed. The name on the tombstone was Lou. He ran home and jumped straight into bed and slept, without getting undressed or anything. He just slept.

“A young girl by the name of Sarah Burges, had been reported missing. She was last seen at Drop in Bar and Grill at around 9 O’clock P.M. If you have any idea about the where a bouts of miss Burges, Please call the station number 404 835 HELP. In other news, major forest fire has broken out in local area, the cause has not been discovered. Investigators are studying the reminensce of the forest. The fire has been extinguished. This will hurt much of the animal life in the once heavily forested area. We will bring more on this story as it continuous” were the words of the local news reporter. The kid listened in to see if there was anything on the guys that were fighting last night. There was nothing. He wondered if it was just a dream. No man can be that tall, right? To think of it, the man in the suit was bald, and pale, almost pure white. The guy in the hood, he didn’t get a proper look at him, his hood was on. It was a Monday and he was late to school, he quickly grabbed a black V neck shirt, his black hoodie and his skinny fit black jeans, those were the only thing in his draw due to just moving from Australia. He grabbed his bag and skate board and quickly got on his way to school.

When he got to school he pulled his purple and light blue hat out of his bag and put it on backwards. This “kid”, we will call him that for now, had long-ish brown hair that he flicked to the left and a lip piercing on his bottom left lip. During school he spent his time researching the guy’s from last night. Apparently the tall man is named after his appearance. The Slender Man. His territory was the woods that got burned down last night. The other was some “killer”. There wasn’t much on them, but whatever there was he wanted more, more information. He wanted to see them closely.

After school he dumped his bag at his house and went straight to the woods that burnt down, hoping for the sight of either Slender Man or the killer. There was no sight of them anywhere, except for the arm of a suit, and later a scorched lighter. The plastic was half melted and it couldn’t produce any sparks when he tried to light it. He searched as far as he could, but there was nothing except ash and sticks from the fire.

A few nights went buy and there was nothing on television about the fire since Monday, which he thought was odd. Its like they just disappeared. Vanished into thin air. The kid made a few friends, and they had a sleepover party and Mitch’s house. One of the others, Zander, started the subject of scary stories He went on about this so called haunted house a few houses down. “How about we play Truth or dare?” said Mitch, trying to shut Zander up about this house. “Alright” Replied Zander, in an excited voice. “How about me and Sasha stay in the haunted house for the rest of the night?”. Everyone sighed. The kid agreed and they walked up to the haunted house. The kid didn’t know much about this house.. Zander had packed some food, his laptop and his phone for the night, the kid just packed his phone. Since you have heard his name, the kids real name is Sasha. People at his new school tease him because of it, but back to the house.

During the time they were there, they just chatted and looked up creepy stories on some website named Creepypasta.com. Nothing really happened until around 1 A.M. when they heard a noise upstairs, like a dragging noise. Zander got excited and scared at the same time, while Sasha just kept calm. After a minute or so the dragging noise just stopped. But just as Zander lost hope, there was a loud banging noise, then some laughter. It was an evil laugh, one of a psycho-path. Both Zander and Sasha shook, hoping it was all in their head. Zander and Sasha looked at each other in fear, then it went silent. Zander froze. Sasha wondered why he stopped, but at the moment he opened his mouth to talk, he was ripped away from Zander and was being mauled by what seemed to be a creature of some sort. It pulled at Sasha’s limbs and face, trying to tear the flesh from his bones. Zander panicked and didn’t know what to do. Out of no-where Sasha hears a foot step, then a voice as if someone was really pissed off. The footstep turned into a full sprint, then BAM, the monster was tackled of of Sasha by a man in a white hoodie. It was the killer. The killers knife flew across the room but the killer was too busy smashing the monsters face in to notice. As the killer reached for his pocket, he was thrown off. The monster crawled into a near by hole in a wall. The killer turned to Sasha and Zaander with an angry look on his face. The killers face was bleach white, and had a permanent smile on it, his eyes ringed with black and never seemed to close. He walked towards them but was attacked, the monster jumped onto him and now mauling the killer. Sasha saw, from its shine the knife and ran for it, picking it up swiftly and running to the killer. Sasha ripped the creatures head back, then with a pull he opened the creatures airways as he sliced its throat, choking on its own blood. Sasha then proceeded to tear the creatures head off with his hands.

The killer laid on the floor worn out by the attack. Sasha gave him a hand to stand up and handed him his knife back. “You okay?” Asked Sasha, kicking the bloody head of the Monster down the stairs. “I’m fine” replied the killer. The killer stood their for a second, thinking if he should kill Sasha, or spare him. “So, kid, you gotta name?” “Yea, my names Sasha”. The killer waited for a few seconds, then laughed. ” HAHAHAHAHA, If you’re gonna be a killer, you’re gonna need a better name”. Sasha looked at him, blankly. Thinking he could become a friend to the killer, he nodded and agreed. They spent the night getting to know each other. “You know, you’re the only real person I’ve had a friendly talk to in years”. the killer said, sharpening his blade against a shard of glass. “You’re also my first friend”. Sasha waited, then asked “What’s your name? Do you have any family?” “No. I killed mine. My mother, my father, My brother Lou-” ” YOUR BROTHER IS LOU?” the killer paused, he thought being cut off in a conversation about his brother was strange. “Yea, how’d you know? The killer asked, with a look of anger on his smiling face. “Uh I was there when you fought that Slender Man guy, I saw the tombstone” the killer quickly snapped, saying he better keep his mouth shut. The conversation went quite. They talked a bit, then all three left. “Oh and kid” “Yea?” “My names Jeff”.

The next Monday after school, Sasha arrived home from his sleep over. No-one answered the door, he thought that was strange. Usually someones home to let him in, so he just lock picked the door and went inside. What he saw was- it was horrible. He’s whole family, slaughtered, his house trashed. He grabbed a kitchen knife and he tried to call 911, but the phone was disconnected. He ran, bag on his back, and ran. He ended up back at the haunted house hoping Jeff was there. He ran inside and searched everywhere. He was no-where. He gave up and sat in a corner, not knowing what to do. He picked up his knife and looked into the shiny new blade. He saw his own reflection, and someone else’s. “Kid, what are you doing here?”. Sasha looked up startled. It was Jeff.”What the FUCK did you do to my family?” yelled Sasha. Jeff looked puzzled and said “Nothing? What happened?” Jeff offered Sasha a place to stay. Denbigh Asylum. Jeff saw the anger in Sasha. Sasha had this thing for evil and dark things, so Jeff took a sudden liking to him. They had so much in common.

It took a short time to get there, but Sasha was curious. “Why haven’t you killed me yet?”. Jeff paused. “Because when I look at you I see me”. Jeff studied Sasha. “You need a new name, how about Shadow or Death?” Sasha thought for a second. “Naa what about Renegade? Renegade and Jeff ” Jeff laughed. “Sure, but its JEFF and Renegade, not Renegade and Jeff, Got it?” Renegade nodded.

Weeks went by, Jeff tried to teach him to kill mercilessly, but Renegade Had other ideas. He didn’t want to kill.

It wasn’t long before another family was killed the same way as Renegade’s family. He thought of that suspiciously, it wasn’t Jeff. He thought to himself, who else is a psycho murderer like Jeff.

The next night was Renegade’s ‘solo run’ according to Jeff. Renegade had to slaughter a single person that was hunting down Jeff, But only he could be killed. No-one else in the family, just him. Jeff said something about Renegades family and he got real pissed off. “I saved your fucking ass, now KILL that son of a bitch”.

Renegade grabbed his knife off Jeff and pick locked the basement door. It was dark, but darkness had become his friend. He could see perfect. He crept up to the inside basement door and silently opened it, the targets wife was still awake.Renegade thought nothing off it and swiftly made his way up stairs. The target was on his computer doing work. Renegade sneaked up behind him ready to slit his throat, but noticed the work he was doing was strange. His target was an escaped mental patient. He killed Renegade’s family and the others that suspiciously died in the same way. He was reading the work when the target turned to leave his work. He had no choice but to kill him now. He stabbed through his throat, piercing the skin like it was paper. Renegade stood back, pleased with himself. He quickly grabbed the knife in his targets throat and jerked it to one side, leaving his head to dangle, then Renegade punched his head. A sharp snapping noise was heard as his neck snapped.

When Renegade got back to the Asylum, Jeff looked at him. ” What? ” said Renegade. ” Look in the mirror, dumb ass!!” replied Jeff. Renegade made his way over to the cracked mirror. There was blood everywhere on him. Renegade looked startled. Jeff looked at Renegade like a older brother to a younger brother, as if to say I’m proud of you. More murders went on, each giving less mercy. Each murder that happened, the words ‘GO TO SLEEP’ were carved into the heads of their victims. Renegade was turning into a merciless assassin. He had the same mind set as Jeff. Insane psychopathic blood driven death machines.

One night Renegade was playing around at an abandoned wear house, chasing a man around for fun. “Let us play hide and seek” Renegade said in a demonic voice. “You hide and I seek, sound good? The man just ran. Renegade jumped from the plank to poles catching up to the man. “BOO MOTHER FUCKER”. The man jumped back as Renegade caught him around a corner. The man pulled out a gun and pointed it at Renegade. “Hahahaha, seriously, were the fuck do you guys get guns from?” Laughed Renegade. The man started firing and missing every shot. The guy ran around corner to get to safety when he saw some barrels labeled with an explosive sign. He waited until Renegade reached the corner then BANG! He shot the barrels. Flammable liquid went every where. Some got into Renegades eyes. He fell to the ground rolling in pain and rubbing his eyes to stop the burning. With what little vision he had left he followed the guy to the exit, and as soon as he got out and away from the wear house it blew up from the left over explosives and Renegade fell to te ground, unconscious from the fumes left from the explosive liquids.

After a while Renegade woke up in a hospital with Jeff siting next to him, he shook nervously. “Uhh… Where.. Where am I? Ow! My eyes!” “Just relax, ok Sasha?” Jeff said and straight after that he left, without saying anything. The nurses came in to check on him. “Nurse what happened?” “You were in a bad car accident” “I meant to my eyes” “Oh a slow burning liquid ended up in your eyes. What was in you car?” Renegade said nothing.

A few days later he left the hospital to go back to the asylum. When he go there the first thing he did was check his eyes. He was startled by what he saw. There were burn marks to both eyes that looked like a Gothic clown had done his make-up. His iris and pupils were a silver-ish grey color that blended in together as if he was blind, but he had perfect eye site. Most of his hair was singed black. Jeff looked at him. So your beautiful too huh?…”

One strange night, just as it hit midnight, Jeff and Renegade finished their night of death and slaughter. The relaxed in their home and drank alcohol to celebrate. There was a knock at the front gates so Renegade went to see who was there. His vision blurred, all he saw was a tall, slender like man in a neat suit, missing his left arm….

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #fanfiction #jtk #horror #story #crossover #slenderman

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - The Most Peculiar Wingman

Can be found on AO3 here.

Summary: You recently moved into a new flat and you’re hearing some rather unusual sounds from your next-door neighbour’s abode. You’re worried the mysterious woman next door is involved in something dangerous. Kassandra is worried that you’re the landlord about to bust her for her lease violation.

(Sorry if you don’t like coffee and/or you speak fluent Greek.)

Word count: 2568

.

Damn, you’ve lucked out with your new flat. The area is pleasant, the décor is tasteful – the windowsills could use a bit more greenery, but you’ll get to that – and the letting agent wasn’t a dick. Zero hassle with bills, minimal scuffs on the walls…it’s bizarre how simple your moving process has been.

But nothing can be perfect, can it?

Over the few days you’ve lived in your new home, you noticed some rather disconcerting sounds coming from the apartment next door. Nothing that disrupts your sleep, thankfully, although your post-unpacking nap was interrupted by a very loud thud against the thin wall connecting the two flats. Thumps, crashes and very disgruntled cursing in a language you can’t quite place tend to crop up in quick succession once or twice a day. Today, though, the odd sounds seem to be omnipresent.

The strange symphony is starting to get alarming; you’re beginning to ponder if the seemingly perpetually angry woman next door is involved in violence…or, forbid, organised crime? That would certainly explain the forceful thuds and grumbling. God, what if she manages to rope you into her shenanigans? What if she is armed?

After a loud bang and an exasperated “oh, fuck you” reverberates into your apartment, you decide to investigate.

Anxiously, you pop on some slippers and step into the hall, locking the door behind you (‘I’m not about to get robbed less than a week after moving,’ you think to yourself, ‘Oh, shit, I need to get insurance…’). Stomach churning with speculation, you make the arduous four-metre trek to your neighbour’s door. Biting your lip, you rap your knuckles against the wood.

A chorus of panicked shuffling echoes through the door, causing your throat to tighten. Footsteps sprint from one side of the room to the other, the sound of shattering ceramic shrill against the heavy thudding. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” the woman hisses, muffled by the walls, followed by some shushing and the rattling of something metal. Who is this woman, what the fuck is she hiding, why am I doing this—

Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing…oh, wow.

Your neighbour is an amazon.

Flawless bronze skin, chocolate hair strewn into an unruly braid, tall and shredded with lean muscle. Her eyes are a gorgeous tawny brown, the split second of alarm disappearing from her gaze, replaced by a sparkle that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Very kissable lips upturn into a charming smile, bringing your attention to a small scar above her upper lip quirking adorably. A deeper scar sits on her nose, and the pang of anxiety returns, but your eyes need only flicker back to hers and it melts away.

“You’re not the landlord,” she says with a rich accent and curious lilt. Your cheeks feel warm.

“Uhm, hi.” You fiddle with your thumbs, mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry, I moved in a few days ago next door. I just heard some loud noises and was wondering if everything was alright?”

Lips curving furthermore, she braces her arms on the doorframe above and, fuck, are they nice arms. Sun-kissed, bulging against her white t-shirt, three gnarly rings cutting into her right bicep that just scream to be touched. Is this her distraction tactic?

“Oh, sorry about that. I hope I wasn’t too much of a disturbance?”

When you finally pry your eyes from her arms, a tiny smirk registers on her handsome face. Bashful, you stammer, “No, it’s fine. But, uh, what caused it, if I may ask?”

The woman cranes her neck to scan the hall. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mob boss? Arms dealer? Axe murderer?

Clearly, your nervous speculations are apparent, because her eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, lovely, it’s nothing dangerous. I just have a pet bird.”

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, you run a hand through your hair. Just a bird. Just a bird. Her face relaxes back into a casual smile. A fresh wave of warmth caresses your cheeks at the name she gave you.

Chuckling, you joke, “Must be one big bird.”

“He’s…an eagle.”

You blink back your shock. “How on earth did you manage to get a pet eagle?”

She laughs, the melody warm and addictive. “Poor fucker followed me all the way from Kefalonia. I didn’t have it in me to say goodbye, even if it violates the lease.” Her tone is affectionate, despite her less-than-endearing name for the bird. Pushing back from the door frame – hands flexing wonderfully while she does so – she gestures for you to step in. “Come and meet him, if you’d like.”

Everything about this woman is so inviting, you can’t help but gravitate into her apartment.

“I don’t think I caught your name?” you ask shyly.

“Kassandra,” she replies, flipping the ‘r’ in her buttery accent. “And what can I call you?”

Anything you fucking want. “(Y/N) is fine,” you manage, debating whether her flat is hot or your face is akin to a beetroot.

“That’s a lovely name. Suits you perfectly,” she winks. She saunters over to a shelf with a blanket hastily thrown over it. You can’t help but observe her firm-looking behind through her jeans. Kassandra tugs away the blanket, revealing a large eagle sitting grumpily in a cage. It remains put when she unlocks the cage, standing almost defiantly.

“Don’t be like that, Ikaros,” she chastises. The eagle – Ikaros – begrudgingly flies out of his confines, perching atop the sofa in the middle of the open-plan room. “He’s gentle, I promise.” You’re doubtful, but he isn’t making any sudden moves.

“He just likes winding you up?”

“Loves it,” she grins. “He’s a little bitter I put him on a diet since he was getting a bit fat. That’s why he’s been throwing some tantrums lately.”

You smile as she scratches the top of his head before heading to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Kassandra asks, giving you another heart-melting beam. “I have coffee, orange juice, I might have some tea somewhere—”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” She asks your preference and you state it, taking in the layout of her apartment. The place gave off a very homely, Mediterranean vibe, with warm colours and white furnishings. A few hand-painted ceramic vases were dotted about – maybe she did pottery – alongside some family photographs. Atop the dining table was a woven basket brimming with ripe fruits, as well as a laptop with a pile of messy papers next to it.

“Have a seat, get comfy,” she calls over the whirring of an expensive looking coffee machine. Shyly you take the chair by the unoccupied end of the dining table. Feeling nosy, you scan the documents by her laptop, but the handwriting was all in Greek.

A minute later, Kassandra joins you with a steaming mug in her hand. “Your coffee, madame,” she announces with a pantomimic bow, evoking a laugh.

“Merci,” you thank her. “How would I say that in Greek?”

“Efharistó,” she replies. You test the word hesitantly, wincing on the second syllable, making her laugh. “Not bad,” she chuckles.

“I butchered it.”

“Try it a little softer,” she smiles, lowering her voice, giving it a sensual cadence that made your head spin. Oh, she knows she’s attractive.

“Efharistó,” you border on whisper, gay little brain surging with the overwhelming instinct to do whatever she tells you.

“There we go!” The proud quirk of her lips is all you need to see.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping the steam from the beverage will help mask your fluster. You blow on the liquid and take a sip, immediately regretting the decision as you scorch your tastebuds, repressing the urge to hiss in favour of looking cool for the hot Grecian.

“Do you, um,” you start, ignoring the numbness of your tongue, “work from home?” You wave your hand at the paperwork by her seat.

“As often as my job lets me.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a museum curator,” Kassandra beams, evidently proud of her job. “A glorified history nerd who couldn’t be fucked with the extra academia, basically.” You snort against the mug, nearly spluttering coffee over her. Smooth.

“What time in history?” Her eyes sparkle at the question, passion shining through her irises.

“Mostly the classics, ancient Greece and Rome and all that. But I did my thesis on the evolution of weaponry.” You prop your chin up on your hand as she talks, eyes lazily focused on her lips. If not for the conviction in her tone, you would have zoned out and chased some daydream about kissing those lips. Kassandra reclines back in her chair. “Enough about me, though. Tell me about yourself.”

“You sounded really passionate, though. I don’t mind if you keep talking about your job.” God, you sound like a dizzy schoolgirl who’s hot for teacher. You scald yourself with another sip of coffee in reprimanding.

Kassandra’s eyes twinkle. “I don’t usually invite beautiful women into my home to ramble about cool swords.” You blush and set down your coffee.

The two of you talk for quite some time, getting to know each other, peppering in the occasional flirtatious remark. In her company, you somehow simultaneously feel comfortable and skittish. She’s so relaxed and easy-going, but her physique and seductive demeanour fills your stomach with butterflies.

An irritated squawk cut your conversation short.

Kassandra shoots Ikaros a look before turning back to you. “Sorry about him.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, really. Damn… What was I saying again?” you ask sheepishly.

Squawk.

“Nevermind, I was probably babbling anyway,” you dismiss, sipping on your now cold beverage.

Kassandra chuckles softly. “Don’t be silly, you have the voice of an angel. You could read me the dictionary and I’d still be interested.” She probably said this to every woman she took a liking to, but you can’t bring yourself to care, far too flustered and feeling, for once, special.

Squawk.

Her eye practically twitches in anger as Ikaros flies over to the windowsill, makes unwavering eye-contact with his owner, and shits on the wood.

Kassandra looks like she wants to be euthanised.

“My god,” she mutters as you burst out laughing. She awkwardly rubs the back of her neck and grimaces, mouth parted as if trying to form some kind of apology for her eagle’s behaviour.

“I’m guessing you’re used to being the only one doing the flustering?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Her disgraced expression shifted back to a playful one. “If I say yes, do I sound like a whore?”

Grinning, you shake your head. “A little cocky, perhaps.”

“I’ll take cocky.” She winks and gets up. “Your coffee is probably cold, can I get you a fresh one?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“The finest,” she smirks.

“Real smooth,” you roll your eyes, smiling regardless.

Ikaros caws from the windowsill, as if mocking Kassandra’s advances. Once again, her effortless charm dissolves into a look of frustration. She grabs kitchen towels and a bottle of disinfectant from by the sink and walks over to the window, nudging the eagle so he’d move out of the way. “Maláka,” she groans, cleaning up the mess from the surface. “Μη μου το χαλάς αυτό,” she mutters to Ikaros, earning a confused look. Kassandra sighs. “Usually I wait until after the first date before introducing a beautiful lady to this little shit. That way people don’t immediately think I’m just a weird bird lesbian.”

Testing the waters, you remark, “I happen to quite fancy women with an affinity for animals.” You bite your lip and add, “And, well, you’re…very attractive.”

Smugly, Kassandra finishes disinfecting the windowsill and walks to the kitchen with a little more vigour, your compliment proving to be an ego boost.

Once again deprived of attention, Ikaros decides to flap over and join you at the table. Instinctively, you flinch as the large bird flies in your direction, but all he does is stare at you, trying to analyse the stranger in his home.

“Does – does he bite?” you ask, hesitantly standing up.

Kassandra discards the kitchen towel in the bin, washing her hands. “No, he’s very kind to everyone who isn’t me.” She flashes you a wicked grin. “I only bite when asked.”

Stammering, you choke on air, struggling to find a response. Ikaros gives her a disappointed look.

“Shit, too forward?”

You shake your head. “Not at all,” you blush. “I’ve just…never met anyone quite like you before.” Ikaros seemingly gives you a judgemental leer, and you swiftly find yourself adding, “I-in a good way, that is!”

“Oh?” Her brow is upturned, her interest piqued.

“It’s…exciting.” The eagle shuffles towards you and nuzzles your hand, apparently deciding you’re worthy of his affections. The dark feathers atop his head are surprisingly soft to touch. Smiling, you give his head a few pats, inhibitions to the wind when cute little coos vibrate from his throat. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Kassandra says softly.

You look up. “Really?”

“Really.” She joins the two of you and plucks a damson from the fruit bowl, feeding it to Ikaros while you pet him. “You’re the loveliest person to have ever set foot in this building, that’s for sure.”

Ikaros cocks his head in agreement. His beady eyes meet yours, damson juice dribbling from his beak. Do it, he’s silently telling you.

Screw it, let’s shoot our shot.

You clear your throat, mustering up some courage. “Are you free next weekend?”

Kassandra beams amorously. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she grins. “How does dinner sound?”

Fuck yes. “Really good,” you blurt out excitedly.

“There’s this great Persian restaurant a couple streets over. I’ll book us a table?”

You gasp, having seen the building on the drive when you were moving in. “The place with the garden and the pretty lights, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Sounds amazing.” Red in the face and heart pounding, your eyes dart about the apartment, fearing that you’ll combust if you look at Kassandra any longer. They settle on Ikaros, who gently butts his head against your hand, almost like a fist-bump. “Well, uh, I have a home insurance company to ring up, so I should probably get going,” you stutter.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Kassandra says, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. Ikaros squawks sadly.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for staying,” she winks. The eagle coos in agreement. You give him one last pat before walking to the front door.

“Oh, before you leave, there is something you should know…” Kassandra calls, moving over to you. She delicately takes your hand, frying your brain, and leans down to your ear. You feel faint. Lowly, she whispers, “…Our Hermes guy likes to drop-kick our parcels.”

Snorting, you look up at her in disbelief. I mean, what was I expecting? A kiss? Get a grip, woman. Kassandra laughs at your expression. “Use the amazon locker down the road instead.”

“You’re amazing,” you murmur, grinning. “I’ll probably see you before next weekend, but bye, I guess?”

“Chaire,” she bids softly, opening the door for you.

When the door closes behind you, you let out a ragged breath, excitement coursing through your veins.

You are so glad you moved here.

.

( The Greek clause is meant to say "Don't blow this for me" but I used 5 different translators and all 5 came back with slightly different things and I sort of ip-dip-doo'd it and chose one at random...sorry. )

#kassandra of sparta #kassandra x reader #sapphic september #assassin's creed odyssey #modern au

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin - The Stories Project

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for content not yet released in EN!🍒

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide

Features S2 Gavin but contains no spoilers regarding the S2 storyline

This is a continuation of The Broadcast Countdown Project. Do read that first!

[ This was released on 25 August 2021 ]

[ Chapter One ]

Gavin and I are standing outside Door 501 of the 7th block in Pavilion Village.

This is also the home of Zhang Nian, the kidnapper who handed me an anonymous letter in the TV station before eventually committing suicide.

A thorough investigation of the case involving the anonymous kidnapper and his suicide has ended. The STF has also removed the cordoning around the scene.

I liaised with the TV station, planning to showcase the incident from start to end in a special episode of the show which will be aired in the last episode of “Inquiries”.

Gavin: This used to be a crime scene. If you’re afraid, wait for me here. If you need any materials, I can head inside and find them for you.

MC: It’s okay, I don’t avoid such things... Also, I have a feeling that there’s definitely something behind this case worth seeing in person.

The husband and wife who were kidnapped had related the details to me, and mentioned that even though Zhang Nian had kidnapped them, they weren’t treated harshly at all.

It’s just that Zhang Nian was deaf and couldn't speak. He could only communicate with them with hems and haws, which ended up frightening them.

In hindsight, they realised that Zhang Nian never harboured malicious intentions towards them.

MC: What was Zhang Nian’s goal and what did he want to tell us? The answers to these riddles... they might be hidden here.

Gavin pushes the door open, and we step into Zhang Nian’s house.

Gavin: This place was sealed off since the incident, which is why the arrangement of furniture we’re looking at is the same as when he was still alive.

In contrast to the dim and cold space I had imagined, the living room is well lit.

The cream coloured wood flooring, a white cloth sofa, a simple wall painting of the ocean... all of these elements set off one another in the indolent afternoon sunlight, displaying a warm atmosphere. 

MC: This place gives me such a strange feeling... the person who lived here must have really loved life...

Gavin: His fiancée decorated this place.

Gavin taps on a magnet on the refrigerator. Tiny colourful slips of paper are stuck underneath zebra, bunny, and elephant magnets. 

“Special discount for wax gourds on Tuesday, special discount for pork ribs on Thursday.” - It’s as though the weekly booklet of discounts from the supermarket had been copied down.

“Invitation cards, wedding dress, decide on the hotel.” - The ring which had rolled onto the zebra crossing in the news immediately flashes across my mind.

Aside from that, they have simple recipes on them.

MC: What a pity. If that incident didn’t happen, they would have had a perfect life here.

Gavin: All the furnishings and decor came to a halt when the incident happened to Xu Wen. He did everything he could to retain traces of her existence. As for his own life...

Gavin opens the refrigerator, showing me that it’s more or less empty aside from condiments which had been used a few times. 

White cold mist hover in the empty space, out of sync with the warm tones in the living room.

Gavin: This too.

He opens a wall cabinet to reveal a few boxes of ordinary flavoured cup noodles. The incandescent light in the cabinet is chilly, shining on plastic film surrounding the cup noodles.

Imagining the taste of cup noodles submerged in MSG, I once again turn towards the recipes stuck on the refrigerator.

Gavin shuts the cabinet, then points at the bedroom.

Gavin: MC, I want to show you something.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

Gavin: During the investigation, we found these.

Gavin guides me to the bookcase, then pulls open a drawer at the bottom.

MC: A disability ID, marriage certificate, graduation certificate, guarantee card for a hearing aid and a bank book...

Gavin: We checked his background. He grew up in an orphanage. 

Gavin: Back then, the orphanage didn’t have adequate facilities, and didn’t have teachers or special medical setups for guiding people with hearing issues. He was always reclusive in the orphanage, and didn't have friends. 

Gavin: When he was ten years old, people from the orphanage and community sent him to school.

While saying this, Gavin retrieves a pile of books from the drawer and shows them to me - they are all sketchbooks, and the pages have long since turned yellow. It’s evident that they were here for a very long time.

MC: He can draw?

Gavin: In these books, there are some sketches of streets and still life. Some are comics modelled after existing works. Although I don’t know much about art, I think he could draw pretty well.

While flipping through the pages, I find myself affected by the exquisite details conveyed in these drawings.

Perhaps because he didn’t go through systematic training, he wasn’t limited to one style in the way he expressed his art.

A distinct and unique style leaving a deep impression seems to break through the sheets of paper, revealing the emotions the artist had hidden in his heart.

MC: ...he must have been a really talented artist. 

Gavin points at the wall - there’s a sketch hanging on it. It takes up almost half of the wall, and it’s mounted in a white frame.

MC: The person in the drawing is Xu Wen.

MC: ...it’s drawn really well.

Gavin releases a “mm”, and is unable to hold back a sigh.

Gavin: Extraordinarily well.

It doesn’t matter if it resembles the actual person. It doesn’t matter if it was meticulous or not. 

The person in the drawing has her eyes curved upwards with a smile on her face, and she looks like any other young girl you can find in a crowd.

But the limitless gentleness and happiness contained in her eyes - that’s a unique feature belonging only to one person.

Gavin: They seemed to be schoolmates. I read through Xu Wen’s background - she graduated from the same school for deaf students. But there weren't any questionable points in this case, which is why we didn’t probe further. If you want to know the specifics, we'd have to investigate again.

My heart hovers in the air, wanting to figure out everything about this matter.

But from the STF’s perspective, this case is already closed...

Gavin gives me an affirmative gaze.

Gavin: I know what you're going to say. I want to continue listening to this story too. He wasn’t able to speak, but he left behind a voice that he hoped for others to hear.

After a pause, he turns his head, once again glancing at the drawing hanging on the wall.

Gavin: I can feel such emotions.

Gavin says this softly, and the light in his eyes grow deeper.

Floating dust in the surroundings gather on Xu Wen's portrait. We stand in this warm and tranquil space, as though we can sense their story surging forth without a sound.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

After this, Gavin and I gather information about Zhang Nian and Xu Wen from various sources.

A few days alter, we arrange to meet at a cafe to exchange materials collected from our individual investigations.

MC: I found the teacher from the school for deaf students. He said that when Zhang Nian first arrived at the school, he didn’t even know how to use sign language. He was gloomy and blue. 

MC: Only Xu Wen knew how to converse with him, and would teach him sign language after school. 

MC: After learning of his interest in drawing, she used her pocket money to buy him colouring pencils and drawing paper in secret without her parents’ knowledge. 

MC: They had a pretty happy time in school. Zhang Nian even organised a small exhibition in school, and many teachers and students supported it. 

MC: But after graduation, his days became a little more difficult.

He didn’t have a place to stay, and he couldn’t find work. While Xu Wen could rely on her parents for financial assistance, he could only rely on himself. 

MC: During this time, Xu Wen seemed to have been using her parents’ money to buy him stationery for drawing, and even accompanied him to set up a stall for his paintings...

MC: But they couldn’t earn money at all.

Gavin opens a few files in front of me.

Gavin: Afterwards, he found a job in a finance company. He went around conducting financial transactions for people, and earned commissions based on the number of successful transactions.

Gavin: Not long after, this company was reported for illegal fund-raising. Both he and his boss were jailed for three years.

I recall seeing his ID from before - a crew cut and a white shirt along with a black suit which looked tidy and fitting.

Turns out he wasn’t working at a bank...

Gavin: Even during his time in jail, Xu Wen never gave up on him. She’d visit him every weekend and converse with him via sign language from across the glass.

Gavin: Of course, Zhang Nian behaved very well in jail, and gave his own drawings to many prison guards. After he was out of jail, he found a stable job.

Separated by the scorching 3pm afternoon sunlight, the gaze Gavin gives me is deep with a tranquil light.

Gavin: Do you know why he planned this kidnapping and handed you the video clip anonymously?

I shake my head. This has been my biggest question.

Gavin takes out a few photographs from the file.

Gavin: Before the case was closed, these documents couldn’t be disclosed to the public, which is why I didn’t tell you at the time.

I scrutinise one of the photographs - an A3-sized sheet of paper is stuck on a door, with a few lines written on it.

From the format of the digits, they appear to be bank account numbers.

Gavin: He was behind this door.

MC: Then these bank account numbers...

Gavin: We checked them.

He points at the first line of digits, then speaks calmly.

Gavin: The first account is for an animal treatment centre. It treats stray cats and dogs which meet with accidents. 

Gavin: This one is for a 10 year old girl with hearing issues. She lives with a granny who sells fruits, and is currently saving money for surgery.

Gavin: The both of them had a habit of sending money to these accounts.

Gavin: Even though Zhang Nian continued sending money to them after Xu Wen passed away, he could only maintain his own livelihood with his income.

MC: What you’re saying is, if the video camera could capture this... and document them properly so that more people would know about them...

Perhaps he could help these people. Even if it was for the last time.

MC: ...but that was such a complex method. There was no need to do a good deed in such a roundabout manner, and even kidnap people to reach that goal.

Gavin silently picks up one of the photos from the table - it’s a note that Zhang Nian wrote before he committed suicide. A short message is written on it - It’s Wen Wen’s birthday today.

Gavin: Aside from that, he more or less did think of seeking revenge.

Gavin’s finger remains on the photograph.

Gavin: In Zhang Nian’s life, Xu Wen was the only one who gave him warmth. She was his lover. 

Gavin: After losing such a person, it isn’t difficult to guess what kind of an attitude he had when facing this world, and facing the people who caused such an ending.

Gavin: When people are in pain, their hatred will involuntarily become amplified.

Gavin: From this perspective, at least he didn't take things even further.

Gavin’s voice is dull, as though he’s mulling over something, or affected by their misfortune.

I can’t help but reach across the table, gently bumping the tip of his finger with mine. 

Silence permeates the air. He curls his finger slightly, hooking it around mine.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

The files, photographs, and a few scattered pages of a notebook are spread on the table randomly, as though illustrating their entire story in front of me.

The car accident was a tragedy, but it wasn’t the only tragedy. I find myself hesitating to speak. When I open my mouth, I sigh.

MC: Xu Wen was such a good person. She tugged onto him from beginning to end, and never gave up on him for a single moment. She actually managed to pull him out of the abyss.

Even though she couldn’t hear nor speak, she used her gentle gaze to heal the person she loved.

Gavin tidies the items on the table one by one, storing them properly.

His composed voice is mixed with ruefulness. He seems to be slightly moved, but has more or less come to terms with his emotions.

Gavin: From the perspective of an observer, there were many dismal and extreme traits in Zhang Nian’s personality. This is a point that can’t be denied.

Gavin: However, he was abandoned from the moment he was born. The path he walked on all these years, and the world that he saw - those are things we’d find difficult to relate with.

Gavin: Perhaps from the time he knew about the world, he realised that living was already something requiring courage.

Probably seeing such stories again and again when handling various cases, Gavin’s attitude is objective and calm.

Gavin: No matter what attitude he had when he made this decision, he shouldn’t have done so.

In contrast to the practised manner in which Gavin handles his emotions, I remain immersed in the regretful ending experienced by the two.

MC: Aside from her, he had nothing else.

The furniture, the recipes underneath the magnets, and the drawing hung on the wall... these images flash past me one by one.

MC: If I were the one who experienced this, and the only important person in my life was gone, I’d lose my connection with this world. Perhaps death would be a form of liberation.

Before I can finish speaking, Gavin raises his voice, cutting off my impending sigh.

Gavin: It wouldn’t.

He looks at me resolutely and decisively.

Gavin: No matter when, death will never be a form of liberation. Pain can always be treated. 

Gavin: Whether it’s because someone important is no longer around, or if you were to lose contact with someone, it’s inevitable to carry some pain.

Gavin: Perhaps time is needed, and perhaps meeting a certain someone is needed, to gradually put an end to such pain, and to use various methods to put an end to such pain.

Gavin: But things will always get better.

Gavin seals the brown paper bag which is filled with materials related to Zhang Nian and Xu Wen, then places it at the corner of the table which has been warmed by the sun.

I watch as his palm presses against the paper bag, a moment of hesitation surging past his slightly lowered gaze. Almost at the same time, he looks up at me -

There’s only certainty in his eyes.

Gavin: No matter when, never give up on yourself. Xu Wen was constantly pulling him out of the abyss. He shouldn’t have given up like that.

-

[ Chapter Five ]

By the time Gavin and I walk out of the cafe, much of the sun’s heat has dispersed. Wind blows over from the river, and it’s refreshing and soothing.

Countless little flowers with names I’m unaware of bloom among the grass along the street, swaying in the evening breeze of midsummer.

MC: The weather is really nice today.

After sitting down for an entire afternoon, I can’t help but stretch, relaxing my shoulders and back.

Before I can take a few steps, I suddenly remember the moment I met Zhang Nian face-to-face, causing me to halt in my footsteps. He had walked towards me in a timid manner, a sincere and apologetic expression on his face.

He had handed me a letter, its edges creased from being pinched. Then, he turned away hurriedly before running away.

Too much time has passed. Even his Evol has lost its effectiveness.

Gavin senses that something is off about me, and draws a few steps closer. I wave my hand at him, signalling that I’m fine.

Having second thoughts, I can’t help but sigh with emotion.

MC: If only Zhang Nian was willing to contact me earlier and tell me about what exactly happened...

MC: If only I could tell him how nice today’s weather is. I wonder if he’d have made such a decision.

Gavin responds decisively from beside me.

Gavin: He wouldn’t. 

Gavin: If someone told him that the weather would be nice today, he’d have definitely held on for a while longer.

Gavin: But he couldn’t always wait for someone to pull him along and bring him out of the abyss. He had to muster his courage and walk out by himself.

I nod quietly, gripping the notebook in my hand. 

MC: Gavin, aside from the original plan for this episode, I think I’d need to add some new content...

Gavin halts in his footsteps, immediately reading the thoughts in my heart.

Gavin: Are you thinking about how there are many people in the world like Zhang Nian?

MC: Mm.

There are definitely some people who are shouldering pain alone, and are hesitating at the crossroads of life and death.

MC: Although this tragedy can no longer be salvaged, we could prevent even more tragedies from occurring.

I turn towards the direction of the river, looking afar at the boundless sky.

MC: I want to tell them about the beautiful scenery all around the world, and the beauty of the four seasons.

MC: Tell them about the colours of sunset, the sounds of the ocean...

MC: And tell them that as long as they’re willing to wait for a while longer, there are still people on earth who will love them.

MC: I want their eyes to be able to see the world that I see. I want them to believe that this world is always worth it.

Realising how overly idealistic and visionary my words are, I give Gavin a smile.

MC: ...I might have sounded too exaggerated.

Gavin: Nope. It will be a very meaningful show.

He suddenly reaches out, combing my hair which has been blown messy by the wind. His fingers linger on the ends of my hair for a long time.

The corners of his lips curl upwards slightly, and he brings me into his arms.

Gavin: Thank you.

Gavin: This world is always worth it.

His voice is far too soft. For a moment, I wonder if I misheard.

MC: What did you say? I couldn’t hear you clearly.

Gavin chuckles, then raises his volume.

Gavin: Since the weather’s pretty good, want to go for a drive?

MC: Did you drive here today?

Gavin: Mm. It’s rare to have such nice weather, so I took the car out for a drive.

MC: Wow~ That is rare. It’s been such a long time since I sat in Captain Gavin’s car.

Gavin takes my hand, striding with large steps as he leads me forward.

Gavin: Let’s go. The car’s in front.

- End -

Filming for the special episode of “Inquries” came to an end. When the final episode aired, the show became a trending topic. After watching it, many members of the audience provided assistance and support for organisations targeted at disabled individuals. Although Zhang Nian and Xu Wen have already left this world, they’ve enabled people who experience difficulties in life to obtain warmth. Such warmth continues to last. I guess being able to allow more people to believe that the world is worth loving, and to do what little they can to help those in need is what it means to be a person in the media industry.

More S2 content: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

[passable-talent]

ok roe hear me out. dragon!anakin Au. reader is a knight sent to kill him but when their helmet gets knocked of, Anakin changes to his human form and it’s like love at first sight or w/e. and then when the knight fails to kill the dragon, the village offers them as a sacrifice to the dragon, so Anakin comes and picks them up and it’s tense and idk what my point is but have fun!

OOOOOHOOHOHO HERE WE GO

we are combining the selki myth with a dragon myth because i. wanted to

do u ever not realize how much you need something in your life until you have it 

The governing Council of Coruscant, a small village, was facing a problem, in the form of a dragon. A dragon which lived on the edge of their town and preyed on its people, or did, until they began offering it tribute. They offered the dragon, which they’d named Vader, food or gold, earning its favor so that it wouldn’t destroy the village or its people. It was tradition to name a dragon, in order to easier call it for battle or tribute, a tradition started many years ago by the little village of Tatooine shortly before the death of their dragon, Maul. 

Maul had been destroyed by a young knight of the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan Kenobi, which made the Council of Coruscant turn to the Jedi Order. But Obi-Wan had grown older, and was doing more important things for the kingdom, and so the Order sent another young, talented knight, eager to do service to the realm. 

You. 

You rode to the village nearest to the dragon’s lair and continued on foot from there, your blade hanging at your hip. You carried a mystical weapon called a ‘lightsaber’- a magical blade which was made of solid light. It was the mark of a Jedi Knight, and the mark of your skill. No enemy could stand to you, not even a dragon. 

You had been directed through the woods, to a large cavern that was enclosed by a mountain. It was said that the lair of the dragon could be seen easily from far away, but as you grew closer, and the trees thickened, it would become harder to find. Luckily, you had a good sense of direction, and when forest gave way to grasslands that lead up to a gaping mouth of stone, you knew you had found Vader’s lair. 

You stalked toward it, silent in the light of the setting sun, hoping that the dragon would yet be asleep and its death would be quick. You only let your eyes come overtop of the stone ledge, your helmet blending in with the grey. You weren’t yet noticed, and so looked for the dragon, and saw it curled up around one of multiple piles of gold within the cavern. 

It was a deep shade of oaky brown, almost grey, horns curling over its forehead. Thin wisps of smoke curled from its nostrils as it slept, and you knew now was the best time to strike. You would follow in the footsteps of Obi-Wan Kenobi and cleave this dragon’s head from its body, putting your name into history. 

You heaved yourself over the stone ledge, gathering yourself to your feet. You padded silently toward the dragon until you stood overtop of it, nervous now, not to strike, but to stand so close. 

“With me,” you whispered to your saber, the incantation that its magical bond with you responded to. It ignited for you and you held it high- but the sound had woken the dragon. 

Its eyes were a piercing blue, chilling like nothing else you had ever seen. You meant to swung the saber down before the dragon could fully wake, but a great foot knocked you sideways, and you snuffed the blade so that it wouldn’t be in your way as you fell. Collecting yourself to your feet you found yourself face to face with a dragon, sparking its back teeth together, preparing to flame- and so you ran, knowing a fall from the short ledge was better than being broiled in your armor. 

You tumbled down the hillside and came to rest at the line of trees, your helmet knocked from your head in the fall. You breathed hard, trying to right yourself through your dizziness, and looked up to the ledge, where you could see the dragon approaching, and tried to find your helmet before it attacked. 

The roar of a dragon stilled you, and you ignited your saber again, holding it beside you while glaring upward. If you would have to fight it without your helmet, that you could do. 

But then, something began to happen.

You could describe it almost like... molting? The dragon quickly lost size, and it brought its head back to its body, its scales shifting and moving until instead of a dragon it was a man, wearing a dragon’s skin cloak. 

You paused, and stared, because that was a dragon a minute ago, and now it’s a guy. 

“You’re not only a dragon, you’re a witch!” You shouted, running up the hill again, meaning to take him down now that he certainly had much less fire in his throat. 

“A witch? Funny word.” You’d never heard a dragon talk before, and his voice was smooth, and it startled you. The closer you were to him, the more startled you became, as he wasn’t just any human, he was possibly the most handsome you had ever seen. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and those bright blue eyes had retained into his human form. Though there were fangs in his smile, they didn’t make the smile any less radiant, and he seemed to sense your hesitation as you approached. 

“Be not afraid of being startled by my beauty,” he called down to you, making you stop dead in your tracks. “For I am enthralled by yours.” You snuffed your saber and hung it at your hip, looking at him. He clearly meant not to harm you, and so you raised your chin.

“Are you the dragon they call Vader?” You called up to him, just making sure, and he laughed, his expression bright and lovely.

“Yes, but my name is Anakin.” You tilted your head at him and gave him a small smile. 

“Well, Anakin, my name is (Y/N), I’m a knight of the Jedi Order. I came here to kill you, as I’m sure you noticed.” Anakin laughed, lifting a hand from his cloak and laying it over the back of his neck, where your saber had almost been. From the motion you saw black claws where human fingertips would be, and darkened skin bordering scales on his forearm the color of his cloak. 

“I did. You’ve changed your mind?” You looked at him for a moment with a laugh, then reached to your side to tug at one of the ties that held your armor in place. 

“Yes, I think I have.” 

“In that case,” he said, sitting down on the ledge, tossing his legs over it, “want to come up for tea?” 

~~~

You returned the next day to Coruscant with scorched armor and smudges of dirt and bloody scrapes all over. You vowed that you had failed to kill the dragon after an epic battle, but you would return to Vader’s lair after you had healed, and you would try again. 

Returned you did, and once again, you dredged home to Coruscant, Vader still alive. So you tried again- again, and again. 

“Anakin?” You called as you reached the trees, climbing onto his ledge and shedding your armor at the entrance of the cavern, as you always did. He wasn’t there- but sometimes this happened, and he always returned soon after you arrived. You wandered the expanse of the cavern and investigated his hoard, but mostly you were entranced by the space where he lived: a loft-life area above the golden treasures that had been carved by dragon claws from the mountain. Within it were human luxuries- a bed, couches, a carpet, a fireplace like none you’d ever seen before. It was so comfortable, especially to you, after spending time on those couches with him. He brewed the most delicious tea. 

When he still hadn’t returned you grew disinterested in waiting on the couches and went to his hoard again, looking over it. You wondered if there was more than gold within it, and dug down with the tip of your foot, curious if even in your casual digging you’d uncover a gem. The stones were the most interesting to you- you’d fashioned a small sunstone into the hilt of your saber, and yet it had been the only precious stone you’d ever seen. 

You’d only been standing there for a moment when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you from the floor. Caught off guard you grabbed onto the wrists, but you knew who was spinning you and placing you back down. 

“Anakin!” you laughed, and accusing tone gracing his name. 

“For a Jedi Knight, you sure do scare easily.” You shook your head, your smile fond, and with one hand shoved him gently, pushing him back from you. 

“Where have you been?” You asked, letting him lead you up to his loft, his cloak almost billowing behind him as he walked. He had only gotten more attractive to you- the curl of his hair around his horns, horns admittedly smaller in human form, but still wicked and dark. His figure was exceptional, his smile was bright, his hands strong and kind. 

“Visiting my mother,” he said, putting on a pot of water to boil. You were always colder than he was, so often he made you a hot drink when you arrived. “She gave me some advice.” 

“Advice?” you repeated, sitting down on one of the couches. “About what?”

“Dragon stuff,” he said, turning to you with a playful sneer, “you wouldn’t understand.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Oh yeah? Try me, Sparker.” His eyebrows raised as though you had caught him off guard, and his pupils narrowed into vertical slits briefly, a reaction you knew to be of self-defense. Was he embarrassed?

“Nothing, (Y/N), honestly. Don’t worry about it.” You indulged him with your silence, laying your head back into the cushion of the couch. 

“I think Palpatine’s getting upset with me,” you said, steering the conversation away for his sake.

“Palpatine? You mean the head of the Council?” 

“Yeah. I think he’s getting tired of me failing to kill you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Anakin asked, pouring hot water into a mug to let the tea leaves steep within it. “Thinking about actually killing me to get him off your back?” You looked up, startled, at him. 

“What? Of course not.” 

“That’s good to hear,” he said, carrying over the mug and placing it on a table next to the couch, then taking a seat next to you. “Though I wouldn’t mind having you be the last thing I see.” You rolled your eyes and let your shoulder rest against his, nudging him softly. 

“Charmer.” 

“You know,” Anakin said, repositioning. He often sat so close to you like this so that he could wrap you in his dragon cloak. You hadn’t quite figured out why he liked to do it so much, but you allowed him anyway- it wasn’t like you’d complain about the warmth you felt from him and the way he put his arms around you. “I could always drop your charred armor and clothes onto his doorstep. You’d be able to stay, and they wouldn’t be upset with you.” You lifted yourself up enough to look him in the eye.

“You’d do that?” You asked him, and he tilted his head. 

“Why not?”

“I just...” you trailed off, silent while he repositioned so that his left leg laid lengthwise onto the couch, and you sat between it and his other. “I didn’t realize you’d let me stay.” You felt him press a kiss down onto your head, and a smile grew onto your face. You pulled the cloak over your shoulder to cover more of your body. 

“Of course I would,” he said, his claws lightly tracing your wrist down until he found your hand, and curled his fingers into yours. 

“But no,” you said, turning your head to rest your cheek onto his chest. “I wouldn’t want them to think you’ve killed me. I’m a better knight than that.” 

“True,” he said, pulling more of his cloak over you when he noticed how you bent your knees against the cold. “Then maybe, you could say you’re leaving, to come back with reinforcements, or better weapons, and instead stay here.” 

“That doesn’t solve anything, Ani,” you whispered, reaching over your shoulder to run your fingers through his hair. “Then they’d still be blaming me for the fact that you’re still alive. And I could never kill you.” He turned his head up to kiss your palm, then resting his head back down into your hand. 

“You’ll think of something,” he said, and in the comfort of the moment, you believed him. 

As the sun rose you entered the outer limits of Coruscant, exhausted. Anakin’s nocturnal nature made these meetings easy to schedule but quite hard on your sleep cycle. You usually made it back only to have the older women of the village fawn over you, tending your wounds while you slept. You always returned burnt and bruised, though these wounds were self inflicted, to make it seem as though there was a battle. Anakin never hurt you- save for today, when you had insisted that you get a scratch across your jaw. 

“I can’t, (Y/N),” he had insisted, holding his hands to his chest so that he didn’t even bring his claws close to you. “I can’t.”

“It’s alright,” you promised, “I’m asking you to. I know you’d never hurt me. I’d do it myself with a stone, but these people know what dragon claws look like.” 

“Love, I can’t hurt you.” You reached forward with a gentle smile, lightly taking his hand into yours. 

“Close your eyes, then,” you whispered, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw. You leaned into his palm, your fingers resting overtop his, and when you felt him relax, you pressed down hard onto his first finger, dragging it in a swift motion down your jawline and toward your chin. He gasped, opening his eyes, but you held his hand away, making sure that your blood dripped down your neck uninterrupted. You’d kissed him goodbye, promising him that the women of the village would treat the wound. 

This morning, though, Palpatine himself was there to see you arrive. 

“(Y/N), my dear!” he said, approaching you. “It’s so good you made it home alive.” You thanked him, knowing what he would ask next. “And our dragon? Have you vanquished it?”

“No, sir,” you answered, looking to the ground, feigning shame. “I did not succeed tonight. But I will return to try again.” Palpatine sighed, and before you could react, he had the guards of the council surround you. Shocked, you whirled, but did not ignite your blade. The sheer number of them overpowered you, chaining your hands in front of you. 

“(Y/N) of the Jedi Order,” Palpatine said, standing in front of you on a platform in the center of the village, “You have failed to rid us of our dragon, and so will serve your final duty to Coruscant on this, the sixty-sixth day of spring- you will be a sacrifice to Vader, and with your death, will keep him from harming this village.”

“What?” you snarled, trying to take a step forward, but the guards stopped you. Your armor was torn from you until only your fabric clothing remained, and you struggled against every moment. “This is how you treat the people who are sent to help you?” 

“As a mercy, you will be keeping your magic blade,” Palpatine said, tossing the hilt of your lightsaber toward you. “If you kill the dragon before he kills you, you are free to return.” You glared in Palpatine’s direction as the guards fashioned your saber to your waist, then as they lead you to the platform Palpatine had emptied. Here they had piled the sacrifices of gold and food for Anakin, and here they placed you now, looping your chains through a hoop in the center of the platform. 

There was a trumpet that had become the sound of dread in the village. It caused all to run to their homes, in fear, because the trumpet called the dragon. 

What would Anakin do when he was arrived? Would he recognize that you were the sacrifice, and spare you? Surely he would, he would recognize you- he had to!

How the people of Coruscant, who had loved you, who had put their faith in you, could do this to you- it was evil. You collected yourself to your knees, your arms held in your lap, chained down. 

“I curse this town,” you said, softly at first, as the sound of the trumpet echoed throughout the valley. “I curse Coruscant and all who live within it. I curse you to the fire and death I sought to protect you from!” Everyone hushed as they saw a dragon, on the horizon. Everyone but you.

“I curse you to be torn, limb from body and flesh from bone, I curse you to the same end of pain and suffering that I will be given!” The dragon grew closer, its wingspan wider than the streets of the town, its nostrils exhaling smoke. 

“I curse the Force from this place, may its kindness never guide you again!” 

You trusted Anakin. You did. With your whole body. 

Still, those slitted blue eyes studying you from behind scales, the massive form of the dragon approaching like a hunter with its eyes only on you, it was terrifying. You had tears rolling down your face, and you didn’t even know why. Anakin would never hurt you- he’d made that very clear, this morning.

But you saw his back teeth spark. 

His fire, red and yellow and orange, shot forward, consuming the wooden platform you sat upon. 

Your curse had worked, the townspeople would whisper. The dragon’s fire ate up the platform and left nothing behind, spreading to the nearest homes and buildings. As for you, though, there was nothing left- and everyone had been too concerned with the flames to notice how it happened. 

Except for one old woman, who had known of dragons longer than most in Coruscant. She had kept her eye on the town of Coruscant and its dragon scourge, and its new knight. She was the first to open her home to you.

Shmi Skywalker watched as the dragon lumbered into the flames, and disappeared. And she watched as two figures hurried from it, wrapped in a fireproof cloak of dragon skin. She’d keep their secret. 

-🦌 Roe

| part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | 

#basically: dragon bois #UGGGHHH #roe wants hot tall bf to cuddle with #reader insert #imagines #anakin x reader insert #star wars anakin #anakin imagine #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars self insert #star wars prequels #Star Wars #dragon #dragon Au #dragon x knight au #Knight au #knight reader au #dragon!anakin au #dragon!anakin #fics

[voidsteffy]

Now bear with me this might be long:

So Ace is holding a vinyl that says 'Spirit Phone'. Upon a google search, I realized that it was a relatively good album by Lemon Demon in 2016. Now, because I'm me I started looking for meanings in the song descriptions and lyrics:

Lifetime Achievement:

You are dead and buried, you are dead (Oh no) Oh, but you never died! Even as we speak we're synthesizing blood and organs Synthesizing heart and soul Ain't no cemetery you can't shed (Oh no) Ain't nowhere you can hide! Don't be frightened of us Soon enough you're gonna love us, just remember This is your last ride ever, forever Fill up your lungs - feel better? Look - it's you, good as new New hands, new throat, new living tissue You earned this new purpose Lifetime achievement award

Touch-Tone Telephone

I try to call you every day I'm rehearsing what to say When the truth comes out (Of my very own mouth) I've been working on a unified theory If I make it through tonight everybody's gonna hear me out 'Cause I'm the right one On my touch-tone, touch-tone telephone I'm the only one (Hey!) On your A.M., A.M. radio (Ooh) Don't hang up yet, I'm not done I'm an expert, I'm the one The one who was right all along Better to be laughed at than wrong

Cabinet Man

I'm happy for years and years and Only eating the occasional maintenance man Only driving a few kids to madness Maybe they were predisposed to madness, who knows? I only want to have fun

No Eyed Girl

( “No Eyed Girl” is a love song about an inter dimensional being. More specifically, it seems to be about an inferior being (probably a human) falling in love from an extra-terrestrial visitor. Its also an allegory for someone who’s madly in love with someone far out of their league, and will do anything to get with this majestic person. )

From the moment that we met, I've been awake Like I've never been awake in all my life If I spoke your language, I could tell you how I feel But your language isn't real In every myth there's a little bit of truth But I cannot say a thing, I cannot say a thing Without proof, oh no

...

This is gonna change our world I might go insane If I learn your full name If you'd be my no-eyed girl

When He Died

(A wealthy, and most likely famous, man is found dead in his mansion. However, the more the police and the media investigate his death, the more mysteries come to light.)

When he died He somehow left behind Strange symbols on the floor beneath his corpse Investigators said the wood was scorched When he died

Soft Fuzzy Man

Who seeps through your thoughts Who makes you see spots Who blows through the air Who plays with your hair I know it sounds crazy But once you go hazy, you'll understand I'm your soft, fuzzy man

As Your Father I Expressly Forbid It

(A rant from a stressed father trying to get his children to behave for their grandfather so the family can enjoy dinner together.)

Man-Made Object

( “Man-Made Object” is a story about a man who, during the night, becomes overtaken by a desire to build a massive structure. Given the nature of the album, it seems likely that the desire is supernaturally inspired; the Man-Made Object is likely a monument to some powerful entity. )

I have a vision of a man-made object I have the money, I have the means I have the strangest dreams I caught insomnia from looking at the moon I found a picture of a rectangle I drew I am an altogether different man by day I have the influence to send that man far away

You're At the Party

( The song is about a supernatural entity “inviting” you to the party of the afterlife, or rather a realm of non-existence. )

They make you sweat, half-awake, soaking wet Fever dream, people screaming bloody murder Paint chips flaking off the neighboring wall And as the night goes on and threatens dawn

Maybe I'm going mad, but wait... I do have some valid points don't I?

#nancy drew #season 3 #the warning of the frozen heart #serial killer in horseshoe bay #another town carnival #vinyl albums #analysis #renny is so pumped up today #what's homework never heard of it #behold me who overreads into everything #but hey at least its fun

[scarlettriot]

Welcome to my Fantasy MHA AU Fic!

I'll be posting specific content warnings at the start of each chapter just to give you a heads up but you can expect swearing in almost every chapter and some NSFW 18+ content down the line.

Plan for ships though I don't know which ones just yet.

An OC or two might pop up. In the chapters they appear I'll be sure to give you some information on them.

Hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: SWEARING

The king stood atop the hillside, admiring the vast expanse of his kingdom laid out before him.

King Enji couldn't have been more pleased with the results of his tedious plans and tireless efforts if he tried. In fact, everything had gone off without a hitch!

Flames engulfed buildings. Smoke and embers choked the sky as well as the lungs of his citizens, and King Enji watched it all happening on high.

The sword of the once famed paladin rested on his shoulder. There'd be no one else now in his kingdom for anyone to worship other than him. He'd finally be treated with the respect he deserved.

Magic and projectiles soared through the sky, chasing down every last dragon they caught sight of. The beasts were the perfect villains for his plan. They'd be killed or chased out and once over the magical barrier he'd been working for years to create, they'd never be allowed back.

Two of his biggest problems were taken out in a matter of minutes.

King Enji Todoroki had won.

The celebration of the Phoenix King took place on the same date each and every year. The day that their kingdom had once burned to the ground was now celebrated with dancing and food, music and costumes as a way to remember how their great King chased off the fearsome dragons and did what he could to protect the Paladin of Might.

Izuku could hardly remember the day. What he could recall was filled with smoke and a burning in his lungs. He also remembered his best friend, Katsuki vanishing on that day.

His mother told him that many had died, that sadly, young Katsuki was probably among them. But, Izuku never believed it. Katsuki had been the strongest person he knew and so, even 18 years later, Izuku held out faith that his best friend was still out there... somewhere.

The festival was in full swing, Izuku's stomach was stuffed and his chest felt light seeing everyone around him so happy. His mother, Inko, was using vibrant colors to paint a beautiful flowered mask on a young boy. She'd already marked Izuku's own face, swirls of green in various shades that went over the bridge of his nose and extended down onto his neck. It had been his preferred design since he was a boy.

Horns sounded in the distance at dusk, the signal for everyone to turn their gaze towards the large grey stone castle and witness the light show presented by the top mages in the land.

The first flash of color, bright orange, flooded the sky and Izuku felt a hand in his own tugging him backward.

He turned, noticing a hooded figure but more importantly, the red and white bangs that were just barely visible beneath it.

"Sho?" He breathed the name and it was lost over the sound of the lights exploding. "You're supposed to be-"

"I know." The man mumbled, "But this was my best chance of getting out... getting this out."

He pulled back the cloak just enough for Izuku to see the gleam of a golden hilt. "Shoto, is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah, yeah Izuku, I finally found it."

The two men slipped through the crowd unseen, their eyes transfixed on the light show high above to notice two figures slipping in between buildings. Izuku begged Shoto to keep the sword hidden. The last thing they needed was for someone to see it and recognize what it was.

"He lied." Shoto gritted out. "You were right all along, Zu, my father lied. It was never stolen, he kept it hidden right under our noses. In the damn treasure vault for fucks sake!"

Izuku rarely had seen the young royal so livid but when he got this way his father was usually the cause. Izuku had hoped more than anything that he'd been wrong about the King and what happened 18 years ago. He really hoped that a dragon had been the one to hurt the Paladin and steal the sword, that the King had just arrived too late but something about the story had never sat right with him.

As he grew older, the more he learned about the Paladin, it made him question things. Everyone thought he was mad, Izuku hardly had any friends thanks to him voicing his opinions when he was too young to know better but, to his surprise, a boy with two-toned hair listened. He listened to Izuku's theory long before Izuku knew Shoto was the prince, and he believed him.

"I remember my father coming home that night," Shoto had confided in him, "He just had dirt on his clothes, no scorch marks or burns. Not even blood. He couldn't have fought a dragon!"

Izuku had just thought it odd that the Might Paladin had been taken down by a dragon. Sure, the King said it'd been a horde of them but the man had left without another word, he'd only made a brief appearance at the King's side and then was said to have wandered off into the woods alone; his will to fight and protect, gone.

He couldn't believe a man who slew hundreds of vile creatures could go down so easily, not that handling a horde of dragons was easy but the Might Paladin was practically a God!

What Shoto had told him as kids only further solidified the idea in his mind that things didn't add up. Of course, Shoto wasn't allowed to ask questions. Hells, he was barely allowed to leave the castle grounds but he promised Izuku he'd search for answers. He wouldn't stop until the truth was uncovered.

"I also found this with it, tucked away inside the scabbard."

Shoto handed over a piece of aged parchment folded up small enough to fit in the palm of Izuku's hand. It was scribbled designs, spilled ink blotched out a couple of words and the rest didn't make any sense to Izuku.

"Any idea what this is?"

Shoto shook his head. "No clue but there are some witches that live out past the woods. Maybe they can help?"

Izuku looked at his friend with knitted brows. "You know as well as I do that witches practice unsanctioned magic. And if either one of us were to engage with one, we'd be thrown in jail at the least!"

"Then you better be sneaky about it, Zu." A slight smirk played on his lips. "We can't go to official mages with this, so, witches are the next step to solving this mystery."

Izuku sighed and hung his head. "Fine. Fine, I'll leave in the morning. I'll tell my mother I'm helping you with your power analysis again." He looked at the slightly taller man in his oddly mismatched eyes. "You better make sure she says safe while I'm gone."

In truth, it took very little to convince Izuku to investigate and explore. He loved it actually and if it wasn't for his mother, he'd have the whole damn continent mapped out by now! But, it was just the two of them and he couldn't leave her for too long at a time to tend to the farm all by herself.

"I'll be sure a few guards come by to assist her in the field." Shoto unhooked the sword from his belt. "Take this too. Maybe a witch will know where the Paladin has gone and you can return this to him."

Izuku almost refused but Shoto shoved the weapon into his hands and the moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, he felt... something. What exactly, he couldn't find a word for it but there was a feeling of magic to the weapon. Shoto had to have known that, that had to be another reason why he wanted him to take it and so, with some hesitation, he strapped the sword to his side.

"Write to Sir Iida with anything you find. Use the code though, just in case." Izuku nodded. "Be safe. Let's get to the bottom of this once and for all."

A/N: If you feel inclined, please let me know your thoughts. I might delete and rewrite this depending on how I'm feeling. Thank you for reading :)

#mha #bnha #mha fantasy au #izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki #prince shoto #mha fic #mha au idea #bakugo katsuki #kachaan #deku

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) EVENT! 「异乡行歌·上篇」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: Romantic Rail Getaway- First Half Translations (Lu Jinghe’s Route)

Day 2: Mangrove Park― [Investigation!] Root-carving Art Area (红树林公园: 根雕艺术区)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event

Location: Mangrove Park

After visiting the Mirage Trail and the Root-carving Gallery, we enthusiastically walked along the path, heading towards the next attraction—― Canoe Rafting.

But before we could get any closer to the trail towards it, a puff of smoke arose from the bushes, choking me and causing me to erupt into a coughing fit.

MC: *Coughs*... Something's on fire!

Lu Jinghe: Yeah, someone's burning something in the forest!

The Mangrove Trees free along the edge of the tidal flats, the surroundings humid with water all around; there wasn't a high probability of a fire breaking out here.

It was obvious that someone had deliberately set fire to something on the edge of the woods.

Lu Jinghe: I'll notify the staff first; we can check it out later.

MC: Okay!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

There were scorch marks everywhere on the grass and shrubbery alike, and the further we went, the more choking the smoke became.

In the midst of chaos was a group made out of several people dressed in Tanbuyani's Aboriginal Outfits.

Some of them held torches to light the bushes on fire and blaze the grass. Some of them wielded axes, chopping trees and clearing the debris.

MC: What are all of you doing!?

My voice attracted their attention, and a man that appeared to be their leader stepped forward.

Aboriginal Chief: We're making the land arable.

Lu Jinghe: Come now, friend. That doesn't sound quite right. You guys are obviously setting fire to the forest and indiscriminately felling trees.

Someone was already yelling a retort the moment he was done speaking.

Aboriginal A: Leader! Hurry and chase them off!

Aboriginal B: Yeah, yeah! What do outsiders know! Don't get in our way!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Aboriginal Chief: We have our reasons for doing this. Outsiders, I ask of you to not poke your noses into places where it doesn't belong.

The Chief brushed it off lightly, as if cutting down trees that had been growing here for countless years were no different from pulling weeds out of a courtyard.

This is too much! There's no way I'm going to let this pass all so easily!

I gave it some thought before deciding to say something else to buy more time for the staff to arrive on the scene.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

≫Inquiry Start≪

▷Choice: Reason for burning the forest

MC: Can't you tell me the reason why?

Lu Jinghe: Yeah, leaving the conversation dangling halfway like that really makes us outsiders even more curious about it. 

Aboriginal Chief: You outsiders are so troublesome!

He appeared to be visibly annoyed by our questioning, placing the tools in his hand down as he started explaining.

Aboriginal Chief: Using such a big plot of land to grow so many of these useless trees is so wasteful! Why don't you just clear it all and let us have the space to grow our Parrot Tail Flowers!?

▷Choice: Parrot Tail Flower

MC: Y-You guys want to grow Parrot Tail Flowers!?

Weren't they rare flowers that PAX researchers had only found recently?

It wasn't just me; Lu Jinghe also had a look of astonishment on his face.

But that soon changed into a professional-looking business smile.

Lu Jinghe: What is that flower you speak of…? I don't think I've ever heard of it before.

Aboriginal Chief: It's the celestial flower of Tanbuyani. Eating the petals of this flower will eliminate all diseases within your body and keep you safe and healthy forever.

Lu Jinghe: So, you won't fall sick ever again if you eat this flower?

Aboriginal Chief: Yes, otherwise why else would it be called a celestial flower? Outsider, do you wish to buy some to bring back with you and give it a try?

Lu Jinghe: Sure, how much does it cost?

It's amazing how he does it. With the tone he was speaking with, he sounded no more than an utterly clueless and easily bluffable outsider.

The Aboriginal Chief gradually lowered his guard, becoming a lot more energetic compared to before.

Aboriginal Chief: Make friends and then we'll have a good negotiation about the price.

Aboriginal Chief: We have our flower fields elsewhere; shall I bring you there first to have a look?

▷Choice: Location of the Flower Field

Lu Jinghe: Where's the flower field? Can you give me a discount if I buy it in bulk?

Aboriginal Chief: Humph, don't worry about it! We have a large flower field of Parrot Tails in the Imana Forest, so I guarantee you that we'll have sufficient supply for your needs!

Aboriginal Chief: And as for the discount… Well, that depends on how much you want to buy.

≫Inquiry End≪

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: (If we continue down this line of questioning, these Aborigines will really end up bringing us to see the goods down at their own flower fields.)

We've already dragged it out for so long, so the staff should already be reaching here soon.

Aboriginal Chief: I've already said so much; do you guys want to buy it or not?

I quietly tugged at Lu Jinghe's sleeve, signalling to him that it was almost time. He turned to look at me, understanding my silent cue.

Lu Jinghe: I've given it some serious thought and found that this… Isn't very reliable.

Lu Jinghe: Plus, you should think about your current situation before attempting to do business all that enthusiastically here.

Aboriginal Chief: What!?

Not too far away came the sound of sirens and wheels.

Seeing the prior plan crumble to pieces before their eyes, the Aborigines all displayed angry looks on their faces.

Aboriginal Chief: How annoying you outsiders who only get in the way are!

However, it didn't matter how angry they were, for it didn't help matters at all as the staff and police rushed towards the scene to control the situation at hand.

So, this matter was considered closed; for now.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅ Romantic Rail Getaway⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (Day 2: Mangrove Park― Mangrove Scenic Spot) | Next Part: (Day 2: Mangrove Park― Unexpected Hurdle)

#Tears of Themis #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #陆景和 #Lu Jinghe #异乡行歌 #Romantic Rail Getaway #Tears of an Event #weiding shijian bu #Ishikawa Kaito #石川界人

[crystalgirl259]

How to Train Your Dragonblood 3: The Dragonblood Alpha Ch3

After Jay and Cole finally got Kai and Rocky to stop their little game of tug and war, they all flew towards the smoke to investigate it. Below them, the trees look like an orange, yellow blur below them and on any other day, Jay would be in awe. But as they flew further into the forest, however, the bright orange and yellow colors became a burned, gray forest. The place looked downright depressing. The trees were devoid of any leaves, standing like sticks among the ashes.

They flew through the burnt remains of the forest until they reached the ocean and saw a large and piercing structure of ice, with large protruding spiky icicles.

As they flew around the destroyed structure, Cole realized that used to be a type of trading post or battle fort. This fort looked like it was once a thriving outpost, complete with docks for ships, weapons, and what looked like cages. Jay really hoped they were for containing livestock and not something else. There were even raised docks for archers to fire. Despite Cole clearly identifying the fort as strong, something had reduced it to splinters and icicles.

At first, they thought it was an Ice Dragonblood, but judging but the size of the blast, it must have been an incredibly large and strong one.

They stopped in midair to take in the sight. Jay turned around to Cole, who shrugged helplessly. They had all seen Ice Dragonblood attacks before, but it wasn't just the ice that was strange. The way the ice shot out from the ocean suggested a Water Dragonblood, but the few scorch marks on the bits of wood exposed made Jay think of a Lightning Dragonblood, or possibly a Fire Dragonblood. Jay could feel Kai's hope through their link, but they both knew not to get too hopeful.

They had been disappointed in the past.

They flew closer to the massive hunk of ice, looping through a ring and around it until the man-made structure became more visible.

"What happened here?" Jay asked in horror, but none of his friends had an answer for him. As they kept flying around, the wood splinters on the ice made it seem as if the ice suddenly grew in the middle of a village. On the muddy ground around the ruins, two dragon-like footprints were seen. They looked to be around the size of the monster from the Dragonblood's Nest from five years ago, possibly even bigger.

"I really don't like this," Kai said through the link as he shook his head and Jay put his hand on his neck in reassurance.

"Easy, baby." He replied, but he couldn't hide his own unease.

"Jay!" Cole suddenly cried when he saw something down in the ice, but it was too late.

"Fire!" A man suddenly shouted from below as a net was launched from a trapped ship and Jay and Kai got out of its range just in time. Even though the couple had managed to dodge the net, Cole and Rocky were not that lucky. The Earth Dragonblood was caught in the net and they fell down. Cole was thrown off from the saddle during the sudden drop. The noirette cried out as he fell, but Kai to catch him in his claws. Rocky landed on the ground and men suddenly surround him, carrying shields and spears.

Rocky struggled to escape or transform, but the net seemed to be made from vengestone, blocking out all of his powers.

As the men closed in, Rocky launched rock spikes from his tail that struck a fallen mast. From behind the fallen mast, a man jumped out to join in the fight. The middle-aged man had messy black hair and sharp, sandy brown eyes with long sideburns and stubble around his mouth and chin. He wore a brown jacket with large pockets on the front and a patch on the right side, tan pants, and a black belt, and carried a brown whip. He was also wearing an eyepatch on his right eye with a necklace made up of large teeth from hunted dragonbloods.

"Watch the tail!" He shouted to the men as he leaped on Rocky and grabbed his snout and head spines, pulling him down. As the men tried to tie Rocky's legs, he grabbed a rope wrapped around his arm that he used as a muzzle when he was suddenly distracted by a loud roar in the sky. As he looked up he saw a red dragon crossing the sky above at blazing speeds. "Is that what I think it is?" He whispered as his eyes widened in shock and excitement.

"STOP!" Jay shouted as Kai flew lower with Cole still hanging from his claws. Cole growled in anger when he saw his friend in chains as he hopped down and ran towards his dragonblood, but was pushed back by the men holding up their weapons in a warning. Jay quickly stepped up, holding a flaming sword that he swung at them. They backed off in surprise and Cole took the chance to grab a random sharp stick from the floor.

"Back again?" The man sneered angrily at them until his eyes zeroed in on Kai, still in his dragon form, snarling and snapping behind them. His eyes widened in amazement as she stood up on top of Rocky, holding his left hand over his sword. "Well what do you know, that is a Fire Dragonblood." He smirked at Kai with a predatory stare. Jay's eyes narrowed as he kept his hand in front of protectively while the dragonblood bared his teeth at the hunters.

There was no way Jay was going to let these hunters hurt his boyfriend.

"Thought they were all gone for good." The man continued, sounding very pleased. "Looks like our luck has turned for the better, men; I don't think the Baron has one of those in his dragonblood army."

"Dragonblood army?" Kai mentally asked. Jay was also curious, but right now they needed to save Rocky.

"Look, we don't want any trouble." He tried to reason with the man but he laughed, mocking them, and carelessly gripped into one of Rocky's head spikes. Cole bristled, but fortunately, nobody saw it. The last thing they needed was a fight with their leader targeting Kai and Rocky still in chains while he and Jay were badly outnumbered.

"You should've thought of that before you stole all of our dragonbloods and blasted our fort to bits!" The man shouted angrily as he pointed to the remains of a structure that were impaled by ice. The other men holler in agreement, but the riders were even more confused.

"Wait, what are you talking about? You think we did this?" Jay asked in disbelief. The man huffed and placed one foot on Rocky's head as he scowled at them in contempt. Cole and Kai scowled right back and Jay gripped his sword tighter.

"Dragonblood trapping is hard enough work as it is without do-gooders dragon riders sneaking in to rescue them!" He shouted angrily, but this just confused the trio even more.

"What do-gooders?" Kai asked, but Jay said nothing as he and Cole shared a look before the ginger-haired man processed the whole sentence and turned around, sheathing the sword.

"There are other dragon riders?" He asked in shock. As far as he or anyone else from Ninjago was aware, they were the only ones who ride and co-exist with Dragonbloods. The people of Ninjago had tried for years to get the other islands to accept the Dragonbloods, but it was a painfully slow process.

"You mean other than your little thieving friend from last night? You tell me! You may have an all-powerful dragonblood on your side but we still have a quota to fill!" He sneered as she stepped down from Rocky and on the floor, slowly pacing in front of his people. "How do you suppose we explain this mess to the Iron Baron?!" The man demanded in rage and his people all shouted in agreement. As soon as he said that name, Kai visibly stiffened.

There was no way that fairytale was actually true.

He could swear he had heard that name before when he was just a hatchling, but everyone believed it was just a scary story their parents would tell them to make sure they stayed as far away from humans as possible.

"Kai? Do you know him?" Jay asked through their link, but Kai shook his head, confusing everyone but Jay.

"Never met him, but when we were little Mom would tell Nya and me of a giant human made out of metal trapping disobedient Dragonblood hatchlings and dragging them to the Cursed Realm to work as slaves in his monstrous forge for all of eternity," Kai explained, barely suppressing a frightening shudder. When they were little and told this story, Nya and her friends thought it would be funny to gather up and scrap metal lying around.

They then used it to make Kai think the Iron Baron was coming for him.

"Does anything you say make sense?" Cole growled, snapping Kai and Jay out of their private conversation.

"He's expecting a new shipment of dragons by tomorrow." One of the men said, looking torn between anger and fear. The man, obviously their leader, pointed his finger at the one speaking and nodded his head in agreement.

"The Baron doesn't take well to excuses." Another trapper wearing a hood added, batted his blade weapon at them.

"This is what he gave me last time I showed up empty-handed." The man said as he pulled down his coat and shirt to show them a scar burned into the front of his left shoulder. Cole, Kai, and Jay looked at each other mortified. "He promised to be far less understanding in the future."

"Look, we don't know anything about a dragon thief or an all-powerful dragonblood or your lunatic boss and his dragon army, okay?" Jay gulped nervously, not noticing as the man faintly nodded and other trappers behind them aim their catapults and crossbows at the two humans and Fire Dragonblood. "Just give us back our dragonblood and we'll go, you very strange hostile person whom we've never met."

"Oh, where are my manners?" He mocked as she bowed down and slowly clutched a knife strapped to his lower back. "I am Clutch Powers, the finest dragonblood trapper alive." He announced as he took the knife out of its sheath with a flourish. He looked up where the men turn a large crossbow. He smirked as he pointed the blade at Kai who growled louder.

"After all, it's not just anyone who can capture a Fire Dragonblood."

"Go jump off a bridge you one-eyed bitch!" Kai roared, even though Jay was the only one who understood him.

"This is my boyfriend Kai; he says we're going, now!" Jay snapped, standing protectively in front of his boyfriend, even though they both knew Kai could handle himself in a fight. All of a sudden, the hidden dragon trappers attacked and Kai barely managed to dodge the hit from the crossbows. At the same time, the men began to converge on them. Thinking quickly, Kai shot a fire blast at the ice above them. A large icicle broke off and fell down, causing the trappers to yell and duck for cover.

Clutch too was thrown off his feet.

Jay quickly activated the sword and the flames around it and quickly cut the ropes binding the Earth Dragonblood. With his dragonblood free, Cole, Kai, Jay, and Rocky fly away while Clutch got back up. By the time he was up the pairs were both back in the air.

"You will never hold onto those dragonbloods forever, you hear me? The Iron Baron is coming for them all!" He yelled at the top of his lungs furiously, as he started swinging around the knife. As they flew as fast as they could from the trappers, Jay looked back, concerned at those words...

****************

Back at Ninjago, Jay's friends were all flying around the island, having a playful race amongst themselves. It was just after lunch now and now that they were all refueled and well-rested, the riders and their dragonbloods were looking for anything to pass the time. Right now, that something was racing. Dareth cheered the loudest, currently in the lead, as the others chased after them. As they raced, Plundar and Adam suddenly flew near Ed and Edna's hut.

There Edna was trying to relax, scaring her and the few pigeons and seagulls perched on the porch around her.

The normally calm and sweet Edna grunted and shook her fist at the group of flies, but none of them paid her any mind. In the plaza, Cliff casually greeted the many villagers as he walked towards the forge, hoping Jay would be there. As he maneuvered his way through the crowd, he chuckled when he saw a small group of people either scowling or celebrating at the recent Dragonblood game. A few of them had placed bets to who they thought would win.

Honestly, Cole, Zane, and Jay, if he ever attended, were the only ones who actually won any of the games.

The others were skilled riders and fighters, but they always fought each other instead of focusing on the task on hand. As Cliff entered the forge, he saw Ed working on the grindstone.

"Any sign of him?" The village leader asked when he didn't see his son or Kai in the forge.

"He's probably flown off the edge of the world by now." Ed hummed as he walked next to a Wind Dragonblood in his dragon form and opened the mouth to work on his teeth.

"You sure you want him running the village? You can still delay your retirement." He continued, worried for both Cliff and Jay.

"He's ready, you'll see," Cliff promised as a roar was suddenly heard from outside the forge. Kai and Rocky soon landed with their riders, kicking up a cloud of dust. As soon as Cole and Jay jumped off their backs, the two Dragonbloods returned to their human forms. "Hahaha! Here he is! The pride of Ninjago!" Cliff exclaimed to everyone who could hear, grinning from ear to ear. Dragonbloods aside, his son was becoming more and more like a worthy heir.

Jay quickly took off his helmet and walked towards the two men, with Kai and Cole following close behind.

Rocky would have joined them, but after that close call, he wanted to spend some quality time with his mate and their hatchlings.

"Who finally decided to show up for work." Ed joked lightly as he made a few pretend swings of his hammer as Jay dodged with a smile. Kai and Cole smiled at the casual interactions of the three. Cole had never noticed how close Ed and Jay were but neither did they often banter like that in public. Despite it being five years, it was like a breath of fresh air to see the boy he had been ostracizing still so spirited.

"Sorry, got held up." Jay grinned as he followed his father deeper into the building, dodging any object hanging low from the ceiling. "Hey, um, Dad! Can I have a word?" He asked and Cliff looked positively pleased as he put his large hands over Jay's shoulders.

"Something you're itching to tell me? He grinned as he wrapped his arm around Jay and they keep walking.

"Y-Yeah, not quite the itch you're thinking off but yes." He replied as the Chief grabbed two aprons from a hook that he threw to his son and Kai. Jay put it back on the hook whereas Kai just dropped it on the floor.

"Ah, good man! Now lesson one, a chief's first duty is to its people!" Cliff happily exclaimed as they stopped at a post. From a hook in the wall hang numerous slates inscribed with Ninjago runes and Cliff took the one labeled forty-one.

"Well, can we just talk in private for a-" Jay tried to say but was interrupted as Cliff shouted out the number. People outside were yelling and one excited man was seen jumping up and down and waving his hands.

"It's me, that's me! I'm next!" He cheered as he ran up to the counter as Cliff turned to smile knowingly at his son, who held in an irritated groan. "Okay, okay! I want one of those high sitters with lots of spikes and a big storage compartment." The man squealed in excitement like a child on Christmas Day.

"Absolutely! You got it, sir." Cliff smiled as he wrote down the order and went back into the forge, gathering tools and materials and handing them to his son.

"Dad, this is actually a little more important than building saddles." Jay insisted.

"Yeah, you think you can stop with these little orders and listen?" Kai snapped, only to back off at Jay's glare. Thankfully, Cliff didn't pay Kai's comment any mind.

"Ah, lesson two; no task is too small when it comes to serving your people." He told the ginger-haired man as they got to a table with diverse instruments. Cliff began to look at them and dropped them in a box while Ed got Kai to re-light the forge's fire behind them.

"Dad..." Jay whined as Cliff pushed the box of supplies into his arms and he took it as they started to walk to another part of the forge. As they walked, Jay also grabbed several things that he placed in the box. "I really need to tell you about this new land we came across."

"Another one?" Ed hummed as Zane and Pixal appeared from his right.

"Any new dragonbloods?" The pale man asked in excitement as Cliff picked up a large piece of leather, looking completely focused on his task and unaware of the conversation going on around him.

"We didn't stick around to find out." Jay shuddered at the memory.

"Yeah, these folks weren't friendly." Cole agreed with a glare as Jay and his father stopped beside a big, wooden structure that was meant to represent a dragon's back. Cliff put the leather on it and began to inspect it.

"Aw, really? Your Fire and Earth Dragonblood didn't bring them cheering to the rooftops?" Plundar laughed at the scowls they all sent him.

"No, this was different." Jay insisted as he began to draw the outline of the saddle while Cliff pushed on a level that aligned the leather and the structure that it sat on. "These guys were trappers, dragonblood trappers." He gulped and all his friends seemed to freeze at that. Over the years, especially in the beginning, a few ships would attack the odd Dragonblood that was hanging around near the edges of the island, but when they saw the riders coming in to attack, they quickly fled.

That didn't make it anymore scary at the thought of one of their scaly friends suddenly being taken away, never to be seen again.

Jay often had nightmares about that, as did Kai.

"You should've seen their fort, all blown apart and stuck in giant spikes of ice, it was weird," Cole added, still really confused by it all.

"Do you think it was an Ice Dragonblood?" Pixal asked.

"It's possible, but there was something about how the ice was shaped that didn't look like the work of an Ice Dragonblood." Rocky suddenly said as he walked in with Adam. "There was also damage to the ships and scorch marks on the wood."

"So a group of dragonbloods?" Morro suggested.

"No their leader said it was one, all-powerful Dragonblood that attacked them last night, I've never seen anything like it; and worst of all, they thought we did it!" Jay cried in offense and shock. Sure they had an island full of Dragonbloods and a seeming one-of-a-kind Fire Dragonblood, but even they wouldn't just up and attack a base and risk any lives like that, human or dragonblood.

"You know, you kids are gonna get in serious troubles one of these days, not everyone appreciates this way of life." Ed reminded them all.

"Ed's right, son, best we keep to our own." Cliff agreed as he took the leather and walked over to a table with a giant saw, where he laid it down. "Besides, you have more important uses for your time once we make the big announcement." He smiled as he pulled a lever that activated the saw and rubbed his hands gleefully, thinking of seeing his son taking over as Chief. Jay didn't share his mood and stopped the machine to finally get his attention.

"They are building a dragonblood army." He said in a tone that showed everyone that this was no laughing matter. His serious tone drew the looks of the people waiting outside, and some even subconsciously held their Dragonblood friends and family closer. "Or-Or at least the guy they work for is... uh, Metal Barton or something." He continued, trying to remember the name Clutch told him but failed. As soon as Jay said that, Cliff's eyes widened and he shared a look with a terrified Ed.

"I'll bloody his fist with my face if he tries to take Tox!" Dareth exclaimed as he punched his fist in his hand as the overall mood dove in somberness. Ronin, Shade, and Tox all rolled their eyes at Dareth's declaration, knowing he was all talk. Nevertheless, Ronin shared his brother's determination, as did the others. Before Jay could say anything else, Cliff suddenly grasped his shoulders, pushing him back a step as he forced the ginger-haired human to look at him.

"Baron? Iron Baron?" He whispered in absolute terror, something Jay nor anyone else had ever heard in the chief's voice.

"Uh... Yeah, I think so." He nodded, feeling incredibly confused and uncomfortable with his father's sudden shift in moods.

"Wait! You know him?" Kai frowned, but Cliff didn't answer. He simply had a faraway look in his eyes as he gazed around in thought. There was only one thing to do...

#how to train your dragonblood #ninjago kai #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #plasmashipping

[glorious-spoon]

Yay! If this sparks any interest, for Agent Carter, something with fever and the phrase “Daniel, you’re positively scorching!” (Also I totally agree with the other anon who said about hearing the characters voice when reading your dialogue - it’s fantastic!)

<33 aww thank you!

*

“Daniel, you’re positively scorching!”

Daniel groaned, trying not to lean too obviously into the cool relief of Peggy’s hand. She took it away from his forehead a moment later, hesitated, then leaned forward to press a brisk, rather businesslike kiss to his sweaty temple. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Really?” he mumbled. “I was thinking about heading out to the dance-hall. I’m in the mood to jitterbug. Assuming I can find my leg.”

“Jack brought it. It’s just over there.” She nodded to a corner of the safe-house, her eyes bright with worry. 

“Tell him I said thanks.”

“You can tell him yourself,” Peggy said, withdrawing. “He’s out calling in our extraction right now. He should be back shortly.”

“Hey, c’mon,” Daniel said, struggling upright. He was tangled in damp sheets and so sweat-soaked that the fabric was sticking to him. In other circumstances, he probably would have been mortified. As it was, he was having enough trouble just staying upright without toppling off the side of the mattress. His throat felt raw, and there was an unpleasant tickle there that said a coughing fit was imminent. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Peggy retorted. She was retreating toward the small kitchen, which was stocked for a winter siege but generally lacking in the comforts of home. What he wouldn’t give right now, Daniel thought blearily, for his little apartment in Brooklyn, with the clanging pipes and the old radiator spreading heat through the cramped space, and a pot of hot chocolate warming on the stove...

“I’m not the one being ridiculous. We don’t need an extraction. Get me a couple of Aspirin, I’ll be fine.”

“Mm,” Peggy said distractedly, leaning into the cupboard beside the old wood stove and coming up with a kettle and a small cardboard box. “Do we...ah. Well, the tea is likely stale, but at least there’s sugar. Small blessings.”

“How long has that been in there?” Daniel asked, sidetracked, as she got the kettle on.

“I expect it’s better not to investigate that too much,” Peggy murmured, digging around until she came up with a rather battered tin cup as well. “It’ll be warm at least. And I do have some Aspirin in my bag, that’ll get the fever down.”

“And then we can finish the mission.”

“Or,’ Peggy said acidly, “We can call in an extraction now, before you develop pneumonia.”

“I’m not--” Daniel started, but whatever he’d been about was interrupted by a fit of coughing that erupted out of him despite his best efforts. It hurt, tearing his throat raw, and it went on and on even after Peggy abandoned her tea-making to come and settle a hand on his heaving shoulder. Daniel sucked in a labored breath, then coughed some more.

“Sorry,” he said roughly, when he’d finally managed to get himself back under control. His throat felt like he’d been swallowing glass. 

“That’s quite alright.”

“The mission--”

“The mission can wait,” Peggy said firmly. She rubbed his shoulder again. “Besides, if you’ve got the flu, Jack and I won’t be far behind.”

“So what you’re saying,” Daniel rasped, “is that you want me to be in good shape to nursemaid the two of you.”

“Quite,” Peggy murmured, and pressed a smiling kiss to his cheek.

#agent carter #my fic #prompt fic #fever

[mxstyassasxin]

Once Upon A December (G, 1.6k)

on AO3

Harry had been putting this off for months. The war had ended in May and, for a while, there was plenty to distract him while he regrouped at the Burrow with the Weasleys and Hermione. First, he’d been needed for pretty much every trial at the Wizengamot. He’d then helped McGonagall get Hogwarts ready for the beginning of the school year. Then, when Ginny and Hermione had gone back for their final year, he and Ron, along with Neville and a few others from the DA, had begun their Auror training. It was a hectic three months but then, once the day-to-day job began, it actually left quite a bit of downtime, unless they were on an active fieldwork case, of which they’d so far only had one. The rest of the time accounted for paperwork and patrols, witness interviews and interrogations as well as investigations that usually resulted in simple arrests if they didn’t have to be passed on to more senior Aurors.

Yet, even with most of his evenings and weekends free, he had not set a single foot inside Number 12, Grimmauld Place since the morning of their Polyjuice infiltration of the Ministry. The stupid, half-baked plan that went so awry that Ron ended up splinched and Grimmauld Place compromised.

It had taken a week of the Christmas break, with everyone back at the Burrow, for Hermione and Ginny to put their feet down. Harry and Ron had agreed that they were absolutely terrifying when they ganged up on them like that. But they understood, of course, because there were only so many times you could be walked in on with your girlfriend by one, or both, of your best friends – one of whom happened to be your girlfriend’s brother. Or, in Ron’s case, being walked in on by your best mate and your sister.

And so it was, that two days prior to Christmas Eve, Harry stepped back into Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He was accompanied by the majority of the clan, obviously - Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Arthur and George. Neville and Luna even joined them, although Harry suspected that their sense of friendship was also accompanied by a curiosity about the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

The portrait of Sirius’ mother was still present and shrieking on the hallway wall but ended up having a rather confusingly pleasant conversation with Luna. At one point in the morning, Harry found Neville sat on the threadbare carpet in the drawing room, staring at the Black Family Tree covering the walls.

“Nev? You alright there?”

“Yeah… Yeah. Did you know it had updated? I should have known it would because my Gran’s does the same.”

“What do you mean?”

Neville pointed at a spot on the wall. “That’s where you should be, as Sirius’ chosen heir. There’s a place on there, ready for you if you wanted to restore it properly.”

Sure enough, there, beneath the scorch mark that Sirius had pointed out to him, was a new portrait frame, stitched with golden thread. Harry stared at it silently for a while, imagining his face in that golden frame surrounded by the faces of Black after Black after Black. Slytherin to a fault until Sirius came along. His image would sit beside Malfoy’s, but, if he restored it as Neville said he could, then it would also sit alongside Teddy and Tonks, as well as Remus by marriage. It would be a brand-new start. Those who have been and gone, framed in silver, while those who remain to change the fate of the Black lineage, framed in gold. Andromeda, Narcissa, Draco, Teddy and him. Harry.

He turned on his heel and left Neville behind in the room, failing to see or hear anything besides his feet on the crooked floorboards, only looking up when they came to a halt in front of the door he recognised as Sirius’ room. He reached a hand out, holding his palm an inch away from the mottled wood, unsure whether he should, or even whether he could. But, inhaling deeply, he made contact with the door, and it swung inwards under his touch. As soon as he stepped across the threshold, the heavy drapes at the window swept open, illuminating the dust floating around the room.

He sank down into the armchair in the corner, facing the Gryffindor-themed bed, and hung his head between his knees, hands clasped at the back of his neck. This was exactly why he had been putting off fully acknowledging his inheritance. Kreacher was still at Hogwarts, so he was one less issue to resolve, but the ownership of a magical house that had been keyed into a different lineage for centuries? He didn’t need Hermione to tell him that taking it on was going to get complicated. Especially when there were other heirs, blood heirs, that he would want to recognise. And with that, he knew he would have to get Gringotts involved, and the Goblins definitely still hated him. He was sure many of them would wish him dead if they could. But he would have no hope in navigating the various Black vaults without their assistance.

As he lifted his head to roll the stress out of his neck, he caught the light glinting on something underneath the bed. Curious, he sank out of the chair and onto his knees, crawling on all fours until he was able to reach the metallic object and pull it out to study it.

It was some sort of silver chest, the metal hammered meticulously to decorate the sides and the curved lid. On the top of the lid it had been formed into a lion’s head, complete with fierce mane and teeth. There were feet attached to the base of the small chest as well. One paw in each corner. It was small enough to sit safely on his lap while he lifted the lid open, a familiar soft, silvery glow bathing his face as the pensive inside was revealed.

He didn’t know what possessed him, whether it was the fact that the chest was moulded into a lion, or that it had been beneath Sirius’ bed, but Harry lifted the chest onto the bed and dropped his face into the swirling memories.

“What am I meant to be saying, Padfoot. He’s your Godson.”

Harry found himself looking at Remus as he had been during Harry’s fifth year, permanently furrowed brow included.

“Yes, but it’s my memory.”

“Then why the hell don’t we just do this in front of a mirror.”

“Oh right. This is why you were always the brains, Moony.”

The image shifted slightly so that he was looking at a reflection of Remus and Sirius stood side by side.

“Harry, I know you’re probably wondering what’s going on, but I’ve set in place the motions to make you my heir should anything happen to me.”

“Which it won’t, Padfoot because you’re going to be careful.”

“Right, Moony. But, just in case, you’ll have found this Pensive hidden in my room. Hopefully once everything is over.”

“We’ve put a few of our memories in it for you, Harry. I was shocked at how little you knew of your parents when I taught you in your third year. So here are our memories, for you to view whenever you please, if for some reason we don’t make it and can’t tell you the stories ourselves in calmer times.”

“We love you, Harry. Always remember that.”

Harry yanked his head out of the Pensive before the next memory could begin automatically, wiping away the tears that were already streaming down his face. He didn’t know if he was ready for this. But then again, he didn’t know if he’d ever be ready for this.

Taking a few deep breaths, he returned to the memories that Remus and Sirius had left him, the silver strands swirling around him until he landed in an unfamiliar living room decorated for Christmas.

The first people he saw were Sirius and his father lounging on the sofa in front of him, watching something behind where Harry had landed. He fixated on the happiness shining all over his dad’s face for a moment, the love in the glint of his eyes telling Harry that it was his mother who stood behind him. And, sure enough, when he turned away from his dad, there was his mother, Lily, the lights from the Christmas tree bouncing off her fiery red hair.

As she spun around, swaying to the Christmas carol she was humming, Harry realised that she was holding him in her arms. A tiny, baby Harry, all rosy cheeks and huge smile. Wide, green eyes staring up in awe at his mother as she sang and swayed with him to the tune.

He was witnessing the only Christmas they had been able to have as a family and it looked as though it had been so happy. The living room in the house at Godric’s Hollow was so full of joy despite the threats that lay outside these four walls thanks to the war raging around them. Harry wondered if they knew already that they would all get so caught up in it. James, Lily, Sirius and Remus. His family. Those who had always loved him and those who would be there with him at the end of it all.

He stayed as long as he possibly could in that memory, watching his mother sway to Christmas carols that she sang to him where he lay in her arms, the brightly decorated tree blinking behind her.

This time, to this memory, for the first time in months, he let his tears flow freely.

#end of year fic countdown #harry potter #my fic #grimmauld place #hp fics #pensive

[hypnotica-ships]

I was thinking about my timeline vs the canon SF timeline. Specifically in relation to Heinrich...

(This got a bit long, my bad.)

Heinrich was 'born' either during the events of SFV or after.

I like to think the events of SF3 happens like...at least 17 or so years later (even though I know that's not cannon but hear me out).

However, some not-so-good stuff happens before that. Crow tries to patch things up between Holger and Guile so that he can at least babysit Heinrich every now and then. Also so Heinrich can bond with Amy, he has trouble making friends... Crow is somewhat successful and Holger stops trying to kill Guile, but he still doesn't care for him as person. This leads into Guile asking them to join him on some tougher missions he's been assigned to.

Crow, having access to his Uncle's office again, decides to snoop into some of his more intense mission folders and notices one that catches his eye. It's a bizarre case, a warrior demon that's been causing havoc, seemingly getting stronger by negative energy. Without blowing his cover, Crow convinces his family and Guile's to go on a vacation...to a small village in Japan....for no specific reason.

As Crow manages to leave everyone to go investigate, the other adults sit and chat, leaving the children to go off and play in the woods nearby the town. Chasing after a runaway ball, Heinrich encounters a strange glowing man in red armor.

Some time later, Guile gets informed about a huge dark energy cloud covering the forest nearby. With Crow nowhere in sight, he brings Holger along fearing for the worst. They take a helicopter but can't get too close due to then energy cloud pushing them back. Deciding to use some binoculars, Holger gets a glimpse of something that sends chills down his spine.

Crow, surrounded by his own dark energy force which is seemingly being sucked into another unknown force, is hunched over something he's protecting with every fiber of his being. Heinrich.

He lets Guile know what he's seen, but it's too late. All of a sudden the world starts to rumble, and a smoke cloud appears in the helicopter, as it disperses Heinrich appears, shaken and scared. Once Holger goes to console him, the world shakes again, but this time it's longer and more violent. With a giant explosion of raw power, that almost knocks the helicopter out of the air, the energy cloud disappears, only to reveal a giant crater and scorched earth. Holger still holding the trembling 5 year old, is in shock, without even looking he already knows what's happened.

"Vati...why-why was papa sad when he said-when he said he loved us and-and just wants us...to be happy?"

Years go by, and to make sure nothing happens to his son, Holger trains him intensely. Making sure that if something ever happens again, he'll be ready. During these practices he discovers that he, not only due to the genetics of his passed father but also due to being right in the middle of all of that energy when he was younger, has developed powers to manipulate light energy, similar to how his father used to manipulate dark/shadow energy.

When Heinrich is about 16/17/18ish he gets wind of the Third World Warrior Tournament, and the one behind it, Gill. He's heard about the powers that Gill has and thinks that he's the man who killed his father. So, creating a disguise so that Holger doesn't realize his son entered a dangerous tournament, he goes under cover to try and get revenge. He doesn't realize that Gill wasn't responsible until it's too late...

#my writing #sonnenblumen tranen #krahenkoder #and if it wasn't too clear Garuda was the killer btw #and i do have a design for Heinrich's disguise in mind #i want it to be similar to Doctrine Dark's FEXL look with the tech and all and definitely a face mask of some sort #but with elements of my s/i's costume as well #and with that ending...yeah...i don't know if he makes it or not...I haven't gotten that far yet... #whoops!

[penninstitute]

Case #9910208

Statement of Adrienne Tasker, regarding her childhood friend Kennedy Holst. Original statement given February 8th, 1991.

First things first: I will never forgive the town for what they did to Kennedy Holst.

She was the one good thing I had there, and everything about her was destroyed to create something worse.

I know I should start from the beginning and give a proper explanation, but Corsica deserves this, even if they’ll never read it. Whatever thing is ruining that town, whatever thing ruined Kennedy, it needs to be said that it is horrible and disgusting and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell anyone.

Kennedy and I grew up in Corsica, Pennsylvania. The Holsts moved into town one July evening when I was four, and my mother made fast friends with them. Right away, Kennedy and I took a liking to each other. We were the same age, we both had older siblings who also became friends, though I don’t know what really happened to Josephine after she got out. I know Alex still lives at home. He never did escape, not the way I did. Nor the way Kennedy did, as fucked up as it was.

I don’t know if I feel bad for him or not. I think I was scared for him, once, but now… I don’t know. I don’t know if he knows what’s really happening there.

I’m not sure I do, either. But I’m not afraid of it anymore. Just angry.

There is--was--a house in Corsica, Pennsylvania, we called the Crucible House. It was old and abandoned and always smelled vaguely of smoke. People reported hearing screaming or smelling burning hair when walking by, but investigations into the place found nothing. It was named the Crucible House because of rumors about modern-day witch trials that took place there, rumors about girls being burned at the stake within its walls. I thought it was all bullshit, just a spooky story told by the seniors in high school to scare the freshmen that had just read The Crucible for their summer work--watch out, or you’ll get sent to the Crucible House.

I thought it was entertaining. Now it’s not funny anymore.

Kennedy and I stuck together all the way through high school. The two of us were best friends, you wouldn’t find us anywhere without the other. I told her all of my secrets, and she… well, I thought she told me all of her own.

I was a little in love with her, if I’m being honest. She was so sweet, one of the kindest people I’d ever met. Despite her family’s struggles with money and mental health and whatnot, she managed to keep smiling through it all. Managed to keep her chin up, almost until the end. She was… so pretty, too, with long blonde hair and the prettiest brown eyes. Admittedly, I was more than a little in love with her.

We were two parts of a whole, people would joke. We were fated to be friends, platonic soulmates in their eyes. Though I would’ve liked to drop the platonic part. I don’t know if Kennedy would have felt the same way, before everything happened, but… I think she did. I think she still felt it, even after everything. I kind of hope she did.

I just don’t know if that would bring her back to me. I’d like it to. But I don’t know how any of this works.

Kennedy stole a lot. It was a bad habit of hers, something she did all the time, she’d pocket anything small enough that she could get away with. Sometimes, she would return things, but more often than not she’d just forget what she’d bought and what she’d stolen. I thought it was a bit endearing, the forgetfulness, but the stealing was a touch concerning.

But I never bothered her about it. It was her life, who was I to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? Fuck capitalism, anyways, these were big stores that could handle a few losses. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

But then her father found out.

James Holst started out a kind, understanding, patient man. I remember him, back when I was little, he was always so sweet. He was like a father to me, since mine was never in the picture, up until sophomore year of high school. Then, he began to change. I don’t know what it was about him, but he grew temperamental, rude… hot-headed, I guess works. And his eyes were a horrible red, it was unnatural--they’d always been brown, but one day they weren’t, and quite honestly, I’m still a bit scared of him. I don’t know where he is now, but he’s not dead. He did not die in that fire, that night.

James caught Kennedy stealing one afternoon, and yelled at her out in the yard for everyone to see. It was one little thing, and he brought Hell down on her head, screaming like a lunatic--it scared me. It scared my brother, it scared Josephine, it brought Kennedy to hysterics. And the neighbors just watched like it was a show. Kennedy’s mother looked almost amused as James shouted about damnation and Hell and how Kennedy was awful, horrible for all of these little things. He even said some queerphobic bullshit about Kennedy and Josephine, and nobody did a fucking thing.

I don’t know how I didn’t notice it until that moment, but everyone’s eyes had turned so… cruel. My own mother, who would have clutched her pearls at the idea of someone screaming at a child, was silently staring, eyes alight with intrigue, as if wondering how this would play out.

Kennedy was dragged inside, and I had never felt more afraid than I did in that moment. I honest to God thought James was going to beat her.

I almost wish he had, as horrible as that sounds, because she may have been able to escape that. She may have been able to get away, if that was all he did.

Later that night, my mom said we were going out with the Holsts for dinner and a show to try and lighten the mood. Alex and I were apprehensive, but I went over to Kennedy’s house to bring her back to mine so we could get ready together. She needed the space from her father.

She was quiet when she came over. Had I known that would be our last night together, that quiet, afraid July evening like the one she moved in on, I would have done more, I would have said something, I would have told her everything I felt. But the truth of the matter is that I didn’t, and I don’t know if I will ever be able to tell her.

I remember how she looked that night, in a plain white dress and sneakers, because she didn’t have any nicer shoes to wear. I thought it was cute, charming--the typical thoughts of a young girl who was hopelessly in love with her best friend. I sat her down, took her by the shoulders, and told her that I would always be there for her, through everything, and she could tell me if things were worse than they seemed. She could tell me what was wrong, what was going on with her father.

“It’s over, Adri,” Kennedy said. “We won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

I didn’t know what she meant. But I loved her, I trusted her, I had to trust her. So I did.

I shouldn’t have.

I only realized just how bad things were when we pulled up in front of the Crucible House. James was there, waiting, with his wife and Josephine, and about two dozen other people from town. It’s a small town, I had known these people for years, the families had been nothing but kind, but that night--that night their eyes were cold.

Millicent Jacobs, the kind, young, single mother of two-year-old Evan Jacobs. Romeo Payes, my English teacher. Ellie Johnson, the eldest daughter of the Johnsons. Kind, regular people, big names in a town of roughly 300, people I knew and people that knew me.

Turns out I didn’t know them at all.

The building was hot when we entered. Stuffy, stifling heat. I began to sweat almost immediately, and it was disgustingly dry inside. I couldn’t get away. I was afraid, I didn’t know what was going on, this wasn’t what my mom had said was happening, and I did not trust a word anyone said to me from there on.

James sat Kennedy down on a chair at the front. Everyone else took their seats in benches that surrounded the large, wooden stake in the center of the room. It was all so closed in, so hot and cloying and awful, and Kennedy looked afraid and resigned all at once and I wanted nothing more than to hold her hand, than to run with her, than to get away.

But I sat and looked pretty, because I could not escape without these people going after me--I knew, then, that they would chase me if I ran. I didn’t know how to get us away safely, so I sat, frozen, clutching Alex’s hand so tightly it hurt. Josephine held my other one. We didn’t know what was happening, but we were afraid, and we knew it would be bad, whatever it was.

James tied Kennedy’s wrists above her head, pinning them to the wooden stake. I clutched Josephine and Alex’s hands so tightly I thought I would break them. I couldn’t do a thing as the kindling was arranged.

Kennedy did not scream when she was set on fire.

The crowd cheered when she went up in flames. I think I may have been screaming. Josie and I were crying. Alex didn’t even look present. Kennedy burned alive in her pretty white dress without a sound, and everyone was happy.

She died.

And then she didn’t.

Cheers turned to screaming when the building caught fire, and Kennedy tore away from the stake, still burning. Her eyes were golden in the rising flames, and she shoved through the crowd, leaving footprints burned into the wood in her wake, and she grabbed my arm and ran.

It burned. There is a handprint scorched into my skin where she grabbed me. We left that house, and she left me on my front porch in tears.

“Stop crying, Adri,” she said softly, “it’s over.”

I was afraid of her in that moment. She was different, leaving burned footprints in her wake, smoke curling off of her shoulders, looking untouched by the flames. She did not touch me again, and disappeared before anyone returned to find her.

The next morning, the Holst household had been burned to the ground. Josephine had taken the car and left. I moved away for college two months later, and I’m never going back.

FOLLOW-UP NOTES

- This is not the first time Corsica, Pennsylvania has come up. In Case #9971014, Ms. Coombs moved to Corsica before her home caught fire in 2002, and she has not been seen since.

- Fire seems to be a commonality between these two statements. It’s interesting, to say the least, along with the sudden shift from kindness to cruelty noted here. I don’t know what would cause such a thing, but whatever is afflicting this town seems to enjoy causing pain.

- As for Ms. Holst, she reportedly died in a house fire on July 19th, 1990, though that is clearly not the case if what’s stated here is true.

- The people of Corsica, Pennsylvania refuse to speak to Institute staff at all. I may send Felix, Blair, or even myself up to check out the town in person, once the Skinsnatcher case is over with.

#statement #9910208 #tma #the magnus archives

[1800gotspook]

The Death of a Millionaire

Summary: "If you were to ask Amity's teens about the house, most will tell you it's haunted. You will hear a hundred stories, a tangle of rumors about who lived there." A young resident of Amity park digs into Urban Legends and discovers the greatest mystery surrounding the town.

For the DannyMay2020 prompt “horror” although it’s probably more “creepypasta” esque.

[Read on AO3]

If you drive south down Grimme Road you'll eventually reach the end of the street. Past the City Hall, past Casper High, past the power plant. At the end of the road, turn left and keep driving. You will eventually find a road that borders the woods. Follow that road. It slowly becomes less and less structured, lacking maintenance. Cracked by the roots of trees. Littered with potholes and chunks of concrete. Any street lights left are no longer powered by the city. You will regret if you came at dark.

Driving far enough down that battered road, the trees will thin out. Ahead on the right you will find a wide open property. A tall, intricate, wrought iron fence circling a vast, overgrown yard. Rolling hills of what was probably once lush green grass, now covered in unkempt bushes and weeds, stretching over a brick driveway, even more crumbled than the road you entered on. Weeds and vines peeking up through the cracks. No sign of human intervention in at least thirty years.

Keeping you from trespassing is nothing more than a pointy steel gate. Large enough for vehicles to pass through. The chains holding it shut are probably easy to pull apart. Break the rusty links and force the long-dormant hinges to whine. But you have no interest stepping on this property.

Looking up the drive, you can see the stone path just barely through the weeds. Winding up and around the land to reach its focal point: the house. You could even call it a mansion. Elegant brick laid outside. Once expensive drapery, now bleached a sickly yellow by the sun, sits in the windows. Even the front door, although dusty and rotted, exhibits an air of refinement.

If you were to ask Amity's teens about the house, most will tell you it's haunted. You will hear a hundred stories, a tangle of rumors about who lived there. No matter how peculiar, entertaining, or sensible the stories become, they never quite answer my question:

Why would a person like this, with so much class and so much money, choose to live in Amity Park?

During my research into Amity Park records, I discovered that the house actually belonged to a once renowned millionaire by the name of Vlad Masters. For most of his adult life, he resided in an even larger home. Not just a mansion, but a castle, you could say. This original home was in Madison, Wisconsin. In 2006,he suddenly decided to move to Amity Park, shortly after his election as mayor. That's right. A completely unrelated millionaire from Wisconsin, despite never stepping foot in Amity Park, was elected mayor. This brings up some questionable thoughts, doesn't it? Was he really, legitimately elected?

After his election, it appears he took no real action for the betterment of Amity, except to establish a myriad of anti-ghost protection measures. Long after his death, he was discovered to be involved in many scandals. All the more proving that his election wasn't short of the same. But how he could pull that off? That may never be known.

Investigators never uncovered his true intentions for becoming mayor. Was he just crazy? Power hungry? Was this all a part of some big plan?

The most baffling mystery, however, is what brought Masters to his death.

He lived alone. His body was only found after his several absences from mayoral duties. Nobody was able to contact him. A poor secretary found him eighteen hours later. She said he was covered in burns all up and down his body. Face barely recognizable.

Along with those injuries, scorch marks were peppered all over the study where he was. Investigators said each burn in the room showed signs of explosion on impact, as if someone had accidentally set off a batch of fireworks indoors. However, there were no signs of combustible material anywhere. No scraps or gunpowder. No ashes, no paper shavings. No chemical traces. No debris or fuel at all. The source of the explosions entirely a mystery. If Vlad Masters was attacked, the assailant's trails were expertly covered.

It must have been deliberate. Investigators were sure of that. Despite the scorch marks all over the room, his body was most prominently burned. He was clearly the target of the explosions.

Yet the burns aren't what killed him. According to autopsy reports, his heart had stopped, independent of the little fireworks. There were also no signs of Vlad Masters having previous heart conditions, yet arrhythmia was most likely the cause.

Some detectives in the papers considered the possibility that Masters was electrocuted. It could explain some of the burn marks on his body. But that fell through, as other damages to his body and room went unexplained.

Months after the electrocution theory, more information was uncovered. Because of his bodily reaction to the injuries, they were actually discovered to be chemical burns. They still couldn't figure out what exactly had burned him, as there was no sign of residue or foreign substances to be found.

Further investigation of his injuries was cut short. Curiously, the body could no longer be studied after the initial autopsy. For some reason, each time they tried, results grew more and more inconsistent than the last. Certain burns on his body from previous tests could no longer be found. Each time they tried to study his body, there was less and less to examine. It was almost like he was reverting back. Like his body was healing.

Some say that his body was completely back to a perfect condition by the end of the week. Some say that his funeral was open casket. They say if you went to the funeral, you could walk up and feel his ice cold skin. Not a sign of the burns. If you looked at his face, you could see the hint of a smirk, forever plastered there. Unable to be broken. Unable to be moved by his muscles. They no longer carried blood. No longer kept warm by a beating heart. Stuck grinning about his own mysterious fate.

They searched his house thoroughly in an attempt to uncover anything about his death. Any hint of a struggle. Signs of an ex-friendship. A piece of hate mail. Something to give them a lead. They couldn't even find evidence of an intruder in his house. Masters had security cameras surveying the yard, yet not a single one picked up another being. Not the day of the incident, nor for weeks leading up to it.

Despite all of this security, Masters only ever monitored the outside of his home. He was clearly a secretive man if he was willing to sacrifice safety for privacy.

Investigators searched for alternative entrances to his home and made a shocking discovery. A lever in the study. When pulled, the bookcase made a click, then slowly opened inward. Behind this new doorway, a staircase to the basement. With no other apparent entrances. Some old laboratory. Banged up equipment that once had various uses. Syringes and test tubes, all sterile and unused. Large contraptions with several sleek levers and buttons, never labelled. Investigators peeled the contraptions apart to discover each one empty. Core identifying structures like computer chips and motors were removed, leaving only a shell behind. Horrifyingly, some of these shells resembled guns. But they weren't quite guns. Some resembled household appliances. One looked like a high-end toaster. Its sleek exterior in porcelain white. No power cord, but a hole in the side where a charger might go.

There were also strange containment pods and large glass boxes, fit for an aquarium. They lined the walls at one end of the spacious room, also missing any identifying features.

At the other end of the room, a gaping cavern, easily twelve feet long. Lined with steel, and a few holes at the entrance. But once again, nothing could be derived but more confusion and open-ended theories.

Computer system: destroyed. File cabinet: empty. Fingerprints: besides Master's? Nonexistent.

Acidic substances littered the floor. Broken vials and common chemicals corroding away at the sleek tile. Some substances were entirely unrecognizable.

One common theory: Masters experimented with chemicals, and got carried away, getting himself killed in the process.

But I refuse to believe that after all his misdeeds there wouldn't be someone after him. Somebody to kill him. Somebody who learned the ins and outs of his mansion, and took every precaution. Someone who wanted to destroy his lab. Whatever work he was doing, it was unlikely to be for a good cause.

The police asked Amity for help. If someone knew anything about this case, they would be grateful.

Living in what was once the most haunted town, many people wondered if ghosts were involved in the incident. Local ghost experts who were old friends of Masters decided to help. After obtaining plentiful details and performing endless studies, the ghost experts concluded that spectral entities were not involved in the incident. It wasn't possible. Ghosts always announced their misdeeds. If ghosts were the cause, Amity would have known of Masters' death instantly, and exactly who was to blame. The ghost experts could not identify the unknown substances.

Is it possible that because these ghost experts knew Masters personally, that they chose to withhold information. Yes, it is a considerable theory. But still, why would a ghost target Masters specifically? Because he conducted anti-ghost measures for the city? Even so, it's no question that Vlad Master had a ghost shield on his property. It simply isn't plausible to assume a ghost could attack him that easily.

Some argue Masters' death was his own doing, whether an accident or not. Others claim the government, or a secretive organization, chose to eliminate him. Remove Amity Park from his clutches. Would the government really be involved but create such a baffling mystery? Why would the police beg the town for answers? Yet another addition to this elaborate mystery.

Angela,

Let me know how this essay reads for you. I've been studying urban legends of the town for a while now, and I compiled a lot of stuff to write this. I want to release it to the entirety of Amity (and the world) but I don't know where to post it and if it will be taken seriously. You know how much I love this kind of stuff. I trust you. So please please please do not share.

Riley

#Danny Phantom #Vlad Masters #horror #dannymay2020 #urban legend #warning: death #future au #next gen au #guess which lemon demon song this is inspired by :)