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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

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Before Rewrite - Hades

*Spoilers for D3 rewrite~!!!! takes place from when Hades gets to the isle to the scene where Mal takes the ember from Hades!*

Hades cursed the rulers of Auradon every hour of every day for putting him on this wretched isle of filth and trash. He was a god! The god of the undead, the underworld! He was a crucial player in the mortal's circle of life; without him, there would be no place for souls to go, Thanatos would harvest them but with no one to claim them; they would wander around the lands forever.

He could already sense the disturbed souls, miserably watching their families walk by, or through them. All alone with no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

He had only been here for two weeks and he was already sick of it; he may have never liked it but his job was important and he needed to get back to work

Two weeks and four days…that's all it took for the gods to replace him. He didn’t know who it was but they seemed to know what they were doing, claiming souls so fast Hades could hardly sense when one had left the mortal world to live in the underworld.

Hades perked up at the sound of crying

Oh, Hadie.

He turned on his heel and speed over to the makeshift crib of his son, rubbing the top of his fuzzy blue hair and picking him up; gently rocking him as Hadie continued to cry, Hades didn’t know from what but he would try to find out.

Like the little god he was, Hadie unexpectedly thrived on the barren isle of the lost; with what little food he got and with little sun, Hadie grew quickly and strong. At four years old he was already growing into his namesake; though Hades couldn’t ever resist being a dad over his little gap tooth in the middle of his teeth.

Hades just wished Persephone could see Hadie grow, and Hades wished he could see his little flower, Melinoe, grow into the headstrong warrior she was meant to be.

Whaaaaaaaat the fuck did he do….what in the actual fuck did he DO?!

He had stupidly gotten black out drunk at Gaston’s bar and somehow ended up with Maleficent! Of all people on the isle?! No-not out of all people, just with someone in general!?

He had prided himself in being the most loyal husband of his brothers, Zeus who had slept with a woman every time Hera blinked, and Poseidon; who wasn’t any better.

Hades had always been loyal and true to his wife…well there were those two times BUT compared to his brothers; he was loyal.

AND NOW HE HAD TO GO AND FUCK UP THAT STREAK; over 1000 years, 1000 years! And some bad whiskey had to ruin it.

He left that bed without a word, rushing home to his 4-year-old son who luckily hadn’t woken up yet from his sleep; and Hades swore if nothing came from that mistake, Hadie would never know about it.

Welp…that was something that came from the mistake. 11 months after the incident with Maleficent-

-There, right in front of his gates to his underground lair; was a little baby girl, halfheartedly swaddled in a green blanket and set at his gate, a little note taped to the front.

‘your problem now -M’

Hades leaned out of the gates, looking around for any goblins or any sign of the mistress of evil herself. But there was nothing. Hades sighed and crouched down, gently picking up the baby girl and holding him to his chest, her cries quieting as her cheek pressed against the fabric of his shirt.

She opened her eyes, vivid green with sparks of gold and yellow. She laughed, reaching up to his hair with a gummy smile. Hades sighed again and turned on his heel, closing the gate with his foot.

At least he got another chance at raising his daughter, and he would do his best to do as he would’ve with Melinoe.

Hadie had asked a billion questions when Hades placed the new baby in Hades old crib, leaning over and peering down at his little sister. Hades had explained it the best way he knew how to a child; but Hadie miraculously understood, didn’t blame him. All he did was reach down towards his sister and grin as the baby took his finger.

“I like her! Are we keeping her?” Hadie had asked, his gap tooth making his little grin seem even bigger.

“she's not a dog Hadie, but yes that’s the plan. I don’t think her mother’s coming back.” Hades rubbed Hadie’s fluffy blue hair and then reached out to rub his daughter's bluish-purple hair gently, her two-month-old hair curling around his fingers.

“What's her name?” Hadie continued to babble off questions, his yellow eyes staring directly into his sister's emerald eyes.

Hades thought for a moment, pursing his lips as he looked at the note and turned it over. Nothing other than Maleficent's writing and initial. Either the fae hadn’t given the baby a name or didn’t care enough to tell him.

“Morana“ the pagan Slavic goddess of winter and death; he had met or once or twice, not enough to know her but the name matched the baby girl before him well enough. (in this world, gods of all religions/beliefs exist in the same universe, they usually keep to themselves and rarely interact.)

Hadie repeated the name, pulling his finger around with Morana still holding onto him. “I like it!”

Three months later, Maleficent returned and took Morana from him; not even letting him give her a damn thing to remember him by. “I need an heir, that evil queens been bragging about her little rat and I won't let her get the upper hand with it” Hadie watched from behind Hades legs as the fae walked away with his little sister, her blue-purple hair stark against the black of Maleficent's sleeves.

Morana cried the entire time, reaching out for her father with tears streaming from her sparking yellow-green eyes, her face red with the flurry of confusing emotions she was feeling.

Hades took a step forward, going to take his daughter back but was stopped by Maleficent's goons, all glaring at him.

He was outmatched.

He stepped back, glaring at Maleficent's back as she took back their daughter she had abandoned so heartlessly three months ago.

Mal. That was her name now. He had heard many talk about the newly revealed daughter of evil; the daughter of Maleficent. Mal.

Hades clicked his jaw at the thought of her name, Maleficent had been shellfish and named her own daughter right after her; Hades would bet his stash of chocolate that Mal’s full name was just Maleficent.

At least Hades had been original.

Throughout the next couple of years, as Mora-Mal. Grew up, Hades kept out an eye on her; just out of sight from her and just barely stepping in if any of the older people of the isle, who had…less than ideal moral compasses, got any ideas about his daughter.

A few times he tried to go up to her, but each time she saw him she either ran away in fear, or stared him down with no spark of familiar want or recognition.

So he kept away, respecting her non-verbal wishes and leaving Mal to herself.

It didn’t stop him from trying to keep her safe. He left her food on the nights Maleficent or her goons forgot, never charged her when she came into his restaurant, was never harsh with her. Some of the other villains got curious at his gentleness with Mal but quickly shut up with a spark of red in his eyes. He might’ve lost his magic but he was still a god.

Hades watched from the shadows as Mal and her three ‘friends’ climbed into the limo, the son of Hook and son of Gaston climbing in alongside them. Mal looked up at Maleficent, who did an odd gesture and Mal nodded, sliding in and closing the limo door behind her.

He followed the limo all the way to the bridge, watching his daughter leave the isle for the first time and go to Auradon. If she didn’t end up burning it down; he hoped she would have a good life away from her mother.

Over three years later, his son was chosen to go the Auradon by his sister, and Hades watched melancholy as Hadie packed his things; fiddling with the dull ember between his fingers. Hadie hefted his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his duffle bag, nodding at his dad; who stood and walked over to his son “stay safe” Hades muttered, pulling Hadie in for a side hug, his hand resting on the back of Hadie’s head. “say hi to your mother and sister for me?” Hadie nodded against him, using his free arm to squeeze Hades back, and turned on his heel, walking out of the mines.

Only an hour later Hades stood at the bridge plaza, ember in hand; pointing it at his daughter, who cried out in pain against the embers draining powers. He pulled back as much as he could, he needed to get out; he just couldn't do it anymore, the isle was hell and he needed to leave.

Mal screamed in pain again and Hades faltered, remembering her cries for him when Maleficent took her oh so long ago. But the girl besides Hook took his falter and rushed at him, slamming him back behind the barrier and walking back through it a moment later.

Hades growled to himself, he had failed his attempted escape and hurt his kid. He stood and walked away from the plaza, planning to stay in his lair for the rest of the week in shame.

It was just the next day when he saw his kids again, Hadie and Celia standing in front of him; giving the excuse of a forgotten bass and some delivered goods. But Mal wasn’t as quiet as she should've been, he grabbed her hand just as she grabbed the ember and pulled it from her grip, staring her down behind his sunglasses.

She meekly asked for the ember multiple times, and on the third time, he raised his brow, holding up the ember in the air as he looked down at his daughter “You’re only half Hades, the ember won't do everything for you that it does for me” Mal huffed and gestured to Hadie.

“Hadie’s gonna be the one to use it anyway, I just wanted-to…” Mal looked up at him wide-eyed and shocked, and Hades had a startling realization that Mal might have not known about him at all.

After a few minutes of Mal screeching about her mother’s lies and her not being able to understand how ‘she’ happened, she demanded the ember once more “if you wanna make up for being a lousy dad” ouch that stung, he didn’t mean to be one; he just was forced into that position “gimme the ember”

Hades gave Mal the ember and watched her walk out, sighing sadly as he realized he could’ve been there for Mal a long time ago if not for his stupid assumption. He warned her about the ember getting wet and she just pushed past him, Hadie sharing one last glance with him before following after her.

Hades sighed, collapsing back in his minecart turned chair and leaning his head back. So much for respecting her wishes as a child, she hadn’t even known he existed as her dad.

-end-

people who i want to read this cuz ahhhh ya know?

@disneyfan50

permtaglist!

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012

@daughter-of-the-stars11 @musicarose @random-thoughts-003

@remembered-license @imtryingthisout @rintheemolion

@thecaptainsgingersnap @jatp-rules-my-life @verboetoperee

@saryguerrero

#disney descendants #d3 rewrite #hades descendants #POYW #rewrite part of your world #Descendents #mal daughter of maleficent

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solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

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Sonic Boom - S3E1

Episode title: Friendship 101

Word count: about 3000 words

Author’s Note: I’m trying a rather new format for this fic, since it’s based on a TV show with various songs and camera angles. If you have any comments about whether it works well or not, please let me know!

(Also, the theme song choice is all thanks to khinesthetic, who used it here and inspired me to put it in this fic.)

[cue Mr. Blue Sky by ELO (0:00-3:45)]

[The show opens on a zoomed-out view of Hedgehog Village from above. Stone walls separate the village from the wilderness outside. There are large spaces at several points throughout the structure for entry and exit. A large patch of grass with benches scattered about sits at one end of the village, and a marketplace made up of wood-and-cloth stalls runs along one of the walls. Houses are grouped in seemingly random clusters throughout the town, and the (in)famous Meh Burger stand sits all on its own, with picnic tables spread across its wooden flooring. As the music progresses, the camera begins to zoom in on the village- then on one of the streets in particular- and rotates down to eye level to face…]

Sonic the Hedgehog walked through the streets of Hedgehog Village with a bounce in his step, occasionally dancing to the music playing through his earbuds. As he wandered throughout the town, he passed the usual people running their stores, arguing over botched orders at Meh Burger, and, at one point, Aqua the Rabbit absolutely freaking out over the loss of a single follower on Angstagram (the latest social media network for moody teens).

He did a 360-degree spin before winking and pointing finger guns at Amy Rose when he spotted her haggling with the local grocery store owner. She paused briefly to wave at him with a smile. “Hi, Sonic!” she called, completely ignoring the irritated fennec in the process.

Then, the music froze and changed to something extremely ominous as she turned around to face the shopkeeper once more. A dangerous gleam appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her signature hammer. “Now then, about those prices you’ve been setting lately…”

The song cut back in as the view switched back to Sonic, who was now moving away from the scene at a slightly faster pace.

Really, though, he was more than happy to see his other friends not long after. Knuckles and Sticks were currently busy rummaging through the town’s garbage together, excitedly chatting about the latest piece of interesting junk they’d found, while Tails was fixing someone’s broken rain gutter (and attempting to ‘improve’ it in the process, which meant that it could now measure the amount and intensity of rainfall in a storm- a very useful, though unfortunately unwanted improvement).

Surprisingly enough, as he continued on his way through Hedgehog Village, he managed to get people from a few different places to wave back at him when he said hello. Although perhaps it wasn’t quite so surprising when one considered that this was one of the most cliched opening sequences that could possibly happen in any movie or TV show. Ever.

And of course, the only logical outcome of this scene led to everyone beginning to stop their usual activities and gather in one of the few open spaces in the town, clearly prepared to break into a fantastic musical dance number straight out of Broadway. Incredibly, this was one of the few moments in which everyone in the village seemed to be able to get along…

...until Eggman’s latest giant robot slammed feet-first into the ground, sending everyone off-kilter and scrambling for cover. Shrieks of panic rose in place of the music as the villagers fled the scene to hide in their houses. The dramatic entrance didn’t just ruin the mood, it absolutely crushed it with the sheer force of its impact.

And that was, obviously, when the show really began.

[cue In Your Face by Shockwave Sound (0:00-1:04)]

[Each of the five members of Team Sonic appears on a black screen with their name spelled out in their signature colors (blue, yellow, red, pink, and green) and does a couple of cool fighting moves, followed by snippets of scenes featuring them from previous episodes of the show for about eight seconds each. All five of them then appear together in their usual fighting stances, emphasizing their status as a team.

The Eggman logo then appears in an ominous, glowing red, backlighting the doctor himself and all his creations- before the lights flick on to reveal him alone in his evil lair with a green screen behind him, at which point he shrieks and covers the camera with a hand. Then, neon blue electronic lines begin to appear across the screen and the camera spirals to follow them, selecting one particular line to trace. Not long after, said line ends at a circle which, with a flash, turns into the words ‘Sonic Boom’. Beneath the title, it says ‘Ancient Secrets’ in neon blue.]

[Then the music ends, at which point the episode title- “Friendship 101”- appears for a few seconds in the same color before the show itself returns.]

Sonic scrambled to his feet and zipped over to Tails, pulling him up from where he’d fallen after the robot’s overdramatic arrival. Amy managed to do the same with both Knuckles and Sticks simultaneously, which let Sonic stare for a moment, startled, and then promptly resolve to remember not to get on her bad side anytime soon.

Soon enough, the team had scrambled into their usual positions, ready to fight. Amy and Sticks kicked the battle off by handling the various smaller robots that threatened to get too close to their team, never faltering (and in fact seeming a bit gleeful in the badger’s case) despite the sheer number of enemies. Knuckles, meanwhile, launched Sonic bodily into the air for Tails to catch, before picking up a boulder about the size of a house and lobbing it directly at the robot’s chest.

“Hey! Easy with the boulders- QuakeBot took a lot of effort to make, you know!” Eggman shrieked from above, hovering in the relative safety of his Eggmobile.

(Relative, in this case, was of course in comparison to mixing absurdly volatile chemicals in a lab, bothering Shadow at any and/or all hours of the day, or being on Tails’s bad side when the fox had a glue gun. The doctor still remembered that situation all too well, and currently ranked it as far more terrifying than merely being punted into the stratosphere by kids under half his height and about a third his age.)

Sonic paused to stare at Eggman from where he was currently dangling in the air. A smirk began to spread slowly across his face. “…what did you just call it?”

“You heard me the first time!” the doctor roared, now incredibly embarrassed. “I named it that since it makes the ground shake when it moves, like an earthquake??”

General laughter came from the heroes assembled on the ground and in the sky.

“Argh! Nobody appreciates my genius around here! Now, QuakeBot, stop standing around and start attacking!”

“I suggested TerraBot, since it still has to do with earth and is a play on the word ‘terror’, but nobody ever listens to my ideas, now do they?” Orbot muttered irritably to himself, tucked inside the Eggmobile.

“I listen to all your ideas!” Cubot offered encouragingly.

Orbot’s mouth shifted into a small smile. “Thanks, Cubot.”

Meanwhile, Sonic had been pulled into a spin by Tails, who whirled the hedgehog around before letting him shoot downwards toward the robot in a spin dash- only for him to get caught and sent flying into the nearest house.

He shook off the surprise quickly (and apparently sustained absolutely zero damage despite having literally crashed through a house, because superpowered teenagers), darting back over to the group. “Well, uh, guess it’s time for Plan B then!”

Crickets chirped in the ensuing silence. Even the robot had stopped moving to hear what he had to say.

“And the plan is…?” Amy prompted.

Sonic folded his arms with a huff. “I dunno, I thought you guys would have one!?”

The pink hedgehog rolled her eyes at that.

Tails piped up. “I have an idea! Sonic, you’re going to need to be curled up for this, okay?”

The hero promptly did just that, before emitting a muffled “mmhmm?” from inside his layers of quills.

“Alright then, Amy, I need you to hit Sonic with your hammer right at the side of this house.”

Sonic’s blood ran cold. “Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second can we maybe rethink thiaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He ricocheted all over the palace like a pinball, slamming into several key points of the robot thanks to Tails’s rapid calculations. However, the robot was sadly unaffected by his screaming at a pitch that came dangerously close to shattering glass.

The robot was easily disabled and the attack overall quickly repelled after that. Thankfully, it took Sonic only a moment to recover from his impromptu stint as an out-of-control projectile and get back to fighting with the others…complete with a “Let’s do that AGAIN!” moment, which was met with a resounding no from both Amy and Tails.

Their ears were both still rather sore from last time, after all.

After Eggman was punted all the way back to his island by a well-placed kick from Sticks, though, the crew was about to head over to Meh Burger for a post-battle meal when they discovered that they had an entirely different problem to take care of. The villagers, who were beginning to come out of hiding after the attack, were furious upon seeing the damage dealt to their homes and stores.

“How could you let this happen?” one shouted.

Before long, the villagers found themselves a more specific target when the owner of the house that Sonic had smashed into pointed her finger directly in his face. “This mess is awful!” she cried. “And it’s all his fault!”

Within seconds, a mob of people had descended upon the overtaxed teen.

“I’ve never known a hero so irresponsible.” one fumed.

“How dare you!” the fennec from earlier roared.

The elderly wolf of the village shook her cane at him. “Shame on you!”

Sonic could feel himself beginning to tense up as the villagers turned their ire on him. Whether or not he’d admit it to anyone, he needed two main things in order to be his usual heroic, cheerful self: open space and positive reinforcement. Right now, he was getting exactly the opposite of both of those.

And he was not feeling good about it.

He looked briefly over to his friends for help, but Sticks had already vanished, Knuckles and Tails looked more nervous than anything, and Amy was already walking towards him with that look in her eye…

“Sonic, next time you do need to work on making sure the robot doesn’t catch you, you know-”

A streak of blue shot out of the village, leaving nothing but a scorched trail of grass and the snap of a sonic boom behind.

Sonic didn’t slow down until he reached the mountains- which technically wasn’t very far from the town at all, so he ran quite a bit more after that until he ended up in the middle of the jungle. Then, he sat down with his back to a tree and his arms around his knees, feeling very unheroic and overall pretty lame.

The blue hedgehog frowned at the dirt. Honestly, some days it really did feel like nobody seemed to like him. The only person who ever even suggested he was important on a regular basis was Tails, and Sonic didn’t blame him at all for not jumping into the middle of that crowd. Tails was only thirteen to his seventeen and a half years old- not exactly an age when he should be expected to go toe-to-toe with a crowd of angry adults.

Still, though. When being a hero got him all risk (no matter how low) and no reward...it was difficult for him to keep hold of that core feeling of “I can make the world a better place to live in!”, which, despite all his other claims, was truly at the center of what had motivated him to start fighting against Eggman so long ago…

[The scene morphs in a manner which shows the lighting shifting so that the sun is overhead. A sound effect of birds chirping plays over the scene change. This implies that it’s been several hours since he first fled the village.]

Sonic was still lost in thought when the snap of a twig in the bushes made him jump to his feet in surprise. The surrounding vegetation rustled ominously for a moment...only to reveal the four members of his team in front of him. He watched them all cautiously, his expression tense. More than anything, he looked ready to run at a moment’s notice- something which only served to make his friends(?) seem a little more distressed. “Uh…hey, guys?” he began tentatively.

“Sonic, I…” Amy began forcefully, before stopping herself. At first, it looked like she was about to scold him again, but then suddenly her face fell. “Listen, Sonic, we’ve all been talking a lot about what happened back at the village…and there’s something I want to say.” She gave a slightly tired sigh.

“I know we usually like to make jokes and witty commentary, but...sometimes, the world’s just a difficult place to be in.” she said. “...so we really do need to talk about serious stuff occasionally, even though I know it’s tough for you to even mention how you’re feeling. Unless, you know, it’s ‘great!’ or ‘cool!’ or something like that.”

Sonic cringed at the mere idea, looking more and more like he thought running away was the preferable option here.

“So what I wanted to say was that in a world where there are too many people trying to beat you down...what I was trying to do was tell you how to be more tolerant, because I thought that would help. I figured you can’t change how other people are going to be, just yourself, so I hoped that might make things better.

“But...I’m not actually a licensed therapist- yet, anyway. So I might have been wrong on how I went about that. Maybe...instead of telling you off for not being able to stop all those people...in the future I’ll pull out my hammer and tell them to knock it off already. Does that sound better to you?” she asked.

The blue hedgehog froze. “Ames…I...” he croaked, trying his best not to think about why exactly it felt like his throat was so tight all of a sudden.

Sticks folded her arms. “I like that plan! Those people are way too crazy sometimes…and you guys know I have a verrrrry high tolerance for crazy.”

“We can make the villagers quit bugging you together, just like how we fight Eggman!” Knuckles added encouragingly. “It’s always better that way, isn’t it?”

There was still one person who hadn’t spoken yet, though.

Suddenly, Tails crashed full-force into Sonic, squeezing him in a hug that for once he didn’t pretend to hate. “You know I’ve always, always, always got your back, right, Sonic? No matter what?” he asked, looking up at his older brother. “Even if I don’t always know how to do it right.”

The blue hedgehog simply nodded, not trusting his voice to help him maintain his ‘cool guy’ status.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to talking about it now, though.” the fox added understandingly, stepping back but still leaving a hand on his arm.

“But!” Knuckles added. “We won’t tell anyone if you ever decide you do need to get some stress off your chest every once in a while!” He smacked his own chest with a fist for emphasis.

“Nobody needs to know.” Sticks growled, the camera suddenly showing a dramatic angle of her face as the lighting dropped noticeably.

“Uh…that’s kinda dark.” Sonic said, holding up a finger with a bit of a confused frown, which let the lighting and camera angle zip back to normal.

“Anyway!” The pink hedgehog clapped her hands together, turning to face the group as a whole. “What do you guys think about heading over to my house and watching some movies? I’ll even…” She sighed, her whole body slumping. “…make some messy, simple, unprofessional chili dogs. In my state-of-the art kitchen. I know Sonic probably could use a pick-me-up right now, after all.”

“Thanks, Ames! You’re the best!” the hedgehog in question said cheerfully, the promise of good food and great companionship boosting his mood significantly.

Then, his posture shifted once again into something a little more vulnerable. “And thanks to all you guys. For, y’know, everything.”

“Of course!” Amy chirped.

Tails smiled at him. “No problem, Sonic.”

Sticks folded her arms. “That’s what a team’s for, ain’t it?”

“Of course it is!” Knuckles said, in that rather confusing manner where nobody was actually sure if he understood anything about what had just happened.

The echidna actually walked over to Sonic after that particular declaration, though, placing a hand on his shoulder as his face became uncharacteristically serious for a second. “Really, Sonic, we can all help you out, alright? Nobody gets to yell at our leader without getting yelled at back!” he declared, punching a fist into his other hand.

The hedgehog blinked twice before looking up at his friend. “You…just called me the leader?”

“Well, duh! That’s why everyone calls it Team Sonic, right?” Knuckles asked with a smile, letting an awkward (but genuine) grin spread across Sonic’s face.

Within seconds, the hero found himself squeezed in a big hug from all sides by his friends- and then actually lifted off the floor through a joint effort from Knuckles and Amy.

“Guys- come on! I can’t even move here!” he cried out, his legs flailing so quickly they made a vibrating noise in the air. “Guyyyyssss….” he whined, though nobody seemed to care much about his halfhearted complaints (judging by the happy expressions on their faces).

Then, the episode began to end, as evidenced by an iris out transition. The slowly shrinking circle paused for a moment on Sonic’s current expression, highlighting it against the otherwise black screen. He now sported a sheepish, if slightly pleased smile, complete with a faint pink blush on his face from all the positive attention.

Clearly Sonic liked being, well, liked far more than he let on.

Then, the circle snapped closed with a pop, and the credits began to roll.

[Voice Actors:

Roger Craig Smith

Colleen Villard

Travis Willingham

Cindy Robinson

Nika Futterman

Mike Pollock

Kirk Thornton

Wally Wingert

Bill Freiberger

Original creation by:

Evan Baily

Donna Friedman Meir

Sandrine Nguyen

Bill Freiberger

Takashi Iizuka

Writer/editor:

Solalunar “Sol” Eclipse

Thank you for watching reading.]

#sonic boom #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #sticks the badger #i really really hope this new format was a good idea #i just had some very clear ideas about this fic that couldn't be expressed in the usual medium of character actions and dialogue #because sonic boom is very different from the sonic games and often uses camera and music-based references #(i may not roll credits every time though- just thought i'd give it a shot haha)#anyway!#i also wanted to ask: is there a particular way people would like me to use for replying to the wonderful comments i get in the tags?#because i want to let the people who take the time to leave comments know how much i appreciate it #but i'm not sure how to go about that #any suggestions?#and finally:#next time...shadow's going to show up! i can't wait to write him #as always #thanks so much for reading!#:D #sol's fanfiction

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

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Standards of Performance, Chapter 9: Hesitancy

From the Beginning, Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Changing the chapter naming scheme; my brain can't handle two-word summaries anymore. This one is a lil short but very soft and I promise relationship progress is made. As always, I hope you love it. <3

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: “Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

“Why would it?”

Words: 1962

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

There was no way in hell you could go into work today.

You didn’t actually have a choice, which is why you’d driven there. But you simply couldn’t command your feet to walk you into that office, towards the teams’ inquisitive stares and deductive skills that were closer to mind-reading than you were entirely comfortable with. You’d adjusted and re-adjusted your lipgloss several times over in the mirror, brushed through your hair, and even though you knew there was no way the team could know what happened 20 minutes ago in the park, you felt like you might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said “Aaron Hotchner and I Just Kissed (On the Lips).”

So you were holed up in the parking garage of the FBI in your piece of shit 2007 Toyota Camry. Stalling.

You sighed when you felt your phone buzz, knowing what the notification was. You were only seven minutes late, but seven minutes was eight too many in Hotch’s book. You checked the message.

Hotch: Please come inside.

So he knew you were hiding out, then. You sighed and slammed the car door, trudging up the stairwell and into the building.

Exiting the elevator to your floor, you paused outside of the frosted glass doors leading to the BAU and tried to still your breathing. Despite Hotch’s apparent instant regret and quick departure occupying the forefront of your mind, you still couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect that kiss had been. The part of you that wasn’t filled with panic about his reaction was squealing like a little kid at the confirmation that holy shit, he liked you too. You took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of professionalism and composure you could muster, and walked in.

You made it less than halfway to your desk.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa; don’t just walk in here like I’m gonna let that slide.” Morgan swung his legs off his desk and stood up in front of you. “Every day you get in at least ten minutes early and now you’re walking in late looking like you got something to hide. Spill it.”

Your open-mouthed gaping by way of response was blissfully interrupted by Hotch calling your name from the balcony overlooking the bullpen.

“Garcia needs your help finishing up reports. Meet her in her office.”

You shrugged to Morgan. “Duty calls. Sorry!”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy!” he called after you as you scampered towards the safety of Garcia’s tech lair.

You knocked on her door, and she greeted you with her standard excess of enthusiasm.

“Come in! I’m just going through my keylogs for the past few cases and filling out reports of every database I had to access less-than-legally.” She shot you an evil grin. “Which is a lot. You can help me by typing up the information into the actual reports on your computer.”

Just happy to be away from the teams’ prying eyes, especially a certain someone’s, you nodded. “Let’s do it.”

***

Not half an hour had passed when Garcia swiveled towards you in her chair, clutching her pink feathered pen with a knowing glint in her eyes. “So. Tell me.”

“What?” you asked, trying to hide your shock with feigned innocence.

“Oh, honey, come on. I may not be a profiler, but I’ve picked up a couple things throughout the years. And I can tell something’s up.”

“God damn it,” you groaned and laid back in your chair. “I thought this was a no-profiling zone.”

She smiled even wider, if that was possible. “It is. But for you, my dear, I have made an exception.”

“Did Morgan put you up to this?”

“He may have possibly texted me telling me that you were late this morning.”

You rolled your eyes.

“But you’re never late! Even I know that! So -” she scooted closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “- spill.”

Sighing, you weighed your options. The last thing you wanted to do was create drama and jeopardize your position, much less Hotch’s reputation, but you were itching to tell someone - if only to get their opinion on the matter. And it wasn’t as if you had anyone else to talk to…

“Fine!”

Garcia rapidly motioned her hands to signify you to continue.

“But you can’t tell anybody, okay? I’m serious, Penelope.”

“Not even-”

“Especially not Morgan.”

She pouted but reluctantly agreed, and you took a deep breath and told her everything.

How you’d developed an innocent crush at first, how it had spiraled out of control, how you’d visited his apartment and he’d told you about his past, and finally, how he’d kissed you in the park just that morning. You stopped, awaiting her reaction, but she was uncharacteristically silent.

“...Garcia?”

She cleared her throat and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, are we talking about Aaron Hotchner, like Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, like boss man Aaron Hotchner? Mr. Grumpy? Never smiles, always wears a suit, carries the weight of the world on his sculpted shoulders?”

You glared, waiting for her to finish.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, “It’s just -” her voice softened, “- in the whole time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him act like that. Bring someone coffee, breakfast, open up to them. The whole bit.”

Your heart fluttered more than you’d like to admit at that.

“Listen,” she continued, “I don’t have to tell you that life has not been kind to that man. And I’m not gonna give you the stupid speech about dating an older man or dating your boss, because I don’t give a shit. But I will tell you - he’s been through enough. So if this isn’t what you want, back out now.”

Her tone was kind, but the seriousness of her message was evident. You nodded in understanding.

“I get it, but I don’t think he’s the one that’s gonna end up getting hurt here.”

“Well, hopefully nobody will get hurt and you’ll both ride off into the sunset together. But you gotta talk to him first.” She ignored your pained groan. “I’m serious! Nothing good is going to come out of you guys dancing around this. People act really stupid when they’re pretending they’re not in love with each other.”

Cocking your eyebrow, you shot back, “Kinda like you and Morgan?”

She flushed scarlet and waggled her ostentatious pen in your direction. “Touché.”

***

The thought of being emotionally vulnerable to Hotch made you more nauseous than you’d like to admit, but the more you mulled over it, the more you realized Garcia was right. Hotch knew how you felt - your fervent response to the kiss had made that abundantly clear - so what did you have to lose, really?

(Besides your career and the respect of your boss, but you tried not to consider that possibility).

He’d kissed you, you reminded yourself as you tried to focus on reports.

He cares about you, you recited like a mantra as you waited for the workday to end.

He’s twice your age and a widower with a dead kid and your Unit Chief, you panicked in the bathroom as you avoided the knowing eyes of the rest of the team.

Still, 6 pm limped in eventually and you bid everyone a good night from your desk as they filtered out. Hotch, unsurprisingly, was not among them. You planned to wait until you two were alone in the office so you could approach him undisturbed.

What you didn’t expect was just how late he worked - it was nearly 9 by the time he locked up his office, briefcase in hand, and turned to see you still sitting at your desk.

“Oh,” he said. You tried to decipher the tone of the syllable - surprised? Pleased? Indifferent? But came up short.

“I thought we could talk,” you offer cautiously.

“About wha-” he began, then seemed to think better of pretending he didn’t know and sighed. “You’re right. We should.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “I wanted to apologize for my actions this morning. I took advantage of a situation where you felt comfortable spending time with me outside of the office, and I should have never let it get that far. If you want to speak to Strauss about transferring units, I completely understand.”

You gaped at him. Was it truly possible for a man this astute, this in-tune with human behavior, to be this stupid?

“Is that what you think this is?” you asked, practically launching yourself out of your seat from the sheer force of your bewilderment. “You think you took advantage of me? That I just went along with it because you’re my boss or something?”

The barely concealed shame in his eyes answered not only that question, but also the one you’d asked yourself beforehand - no, Hotch wasn’t stupid. He was broken. He was filled with so much self-hatred that the only explanation he could concoct as to why you were spending so much time with him was the one where you were trying to avoid offending your creepy, older boss. The realization filled you with such heartbreak that you nearly choked on your next words.

“Aaron,” you started, and it was strange how well a name you’d never before dared to say fit in your mouth, “I’ve -”

Don’t say loved.

“- liked you since that case in San Diego. I don’t know how you haven’t figured that out, considering the fact that I wake up an hour early every morning - I hate mornings, by the way - to get coffee with you. But I like you. And I know for a fact you feel the same way, so don’t try to pretend like you did after the bar.”

The number of times Hotch had been rendered speechless in his lifetime could be counted on one hand, and this made the list. You waited for him to respond, and he did, finally, in the most muted voice you’d ever heard him use.

“It isn’t right.”

“Please,” you implored, taking a step closer to him. “Don’t do that. You’re not going to talk me out of this, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to talk yourself out of it too.”

“I’m your Unit Chief,” he said, his voice regaining the power that usually accompanied that statement, “and I’m old enough to be your father.”

“And I’m an adult fully capable of making her own decisions,” you responded.

“The practicalities; they’d be a mess. Informing the Bureau, the team…”

“Would I have to quit my internship?” you asked, your only genuine hesitancy surrounding the situation.

“Well, no,” he shook his head slowly, “but we'd be subject to a much higher level of scrutiny.”

“I’m prepared to be scrutinized.”

“Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

“Why would it?”

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell what he was thinking. A man like him, someone who carried more than a few lifetimes of trauma and guilt, wasn’t someone to get involved with on a whim - for both of your sakes. This was more so the concern, you suspected, than anything he’d already mentioned.

“I know what I’m getting into, Hotch. I’m not expecting this to be easy.”

“Well, I -” he shifted uncomfortably, more visibly nervous than you’d ever seen him. “Can I least give you time to think about it?”

“Doubt I’ll be able to think about anything else,” you teased, and, with a sudden surge of courage, you stepped forward on your tiptoes to plant a feather-light kiss on his cheek.

The flush that spread up his neck was, decidedly, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

Taglist: @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 (Message me if you want to be added!)

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Demon Angel AU: Bought and Sold

I had an idea, so I went ahead and wrote it for @whumptober2020 day 20 for the prompt “field medicine” and “medieval”. Hope you like it!

Summary: The demon plans the angel and his escape after learning the angel will get sold and sent to a rich family´s rarity zoo after he shows signs of being too exhausted to heal the demon properly to harvest his horns.

Tag list please tell me if you´d like to be added or taken out of it!: @as-a-matter-of-whump @orchidscript @haro-whumps @giggly-evil-puppy @grizzlie70 @rosesareviolentlyread

CW// captivity, slavery, winged whumpee, waterboarding, stress positions, bone sawing, magic exhaustion, manhandling, noncon bondage, whumpee hunted as pray, whumpee turned whumper, catching poles, cages, muzzles, convulsions, inaccurate field medicine (sorry!), forced bathing, implied noncon, blood, auditory and visual hallucinations, thralling and slightly gorey stuff at the end.

It had been a few months since they had arrived to the circus. The routinary wake up call in the morning where the demon was grabbed by the back of his shirt and had a muzzle with bit shoved into his mouth to then be dragged to the river close by for a quick “bath” that was essentially, just submerging him in water and rubbing away the blood and sweat from the day before, was exactly like any other day.

The demon was then seized and brought to the “Demon´s lair”, where he would be thrown into a cage inside the patch of woods until a costumer came. When that happened, the sound of a hornet and the door lifting would be his signal to run.

The demon ran everyday, tried to climb the trees or find something pointy enough to reap the leather binding his numb arms on his back and the muzzle covering half of his face, or tried to jump over the wooden walls, but it wasn´t that the only thing he had to worry about. The demon stopped dryly upon facing a human with his wooden pole with rope on one end. His tail swished in distress behind him, as the bulky human stepped forward and the demon stepped back.

He had had enough humans fishing him by the neck and digging the rest of the pole into his back, forcing him to step into the “trophy cage” to know not to understimate the stick.

The trophy cage was small and he would get stamped on his thigh by the human that caught him to prove they, among a group of three had caught the demon. They would then be asked if they wanted to bring a pair of horns as memento of their victory over the demons: a pair of his horns.

If he didn´t get caught, on the rare days that happened, they would hang him by his ankles or his arms for a while, just so they would be too sore and uncomfortable to properly run away the next day.

There were days where the demon felt hopeless about escaping someday. When he got frustrated from getting away from the gods and their angels to end up captured yet again less than two months later.

The angel, Sann, would sometimes reach to him through the cramped cell with his wings tightly pressed against him, still wearing the clothes that barely covered any skin. On those nights, where the demon leaned into that friendly hand, he heard the angel tell him they had ran away once, so they could do it again.

The demon braced himself from tearing up, because they would burn the angel if he touched his tears. So he just quietly sniffed them back and tried to believe him.

The only times he would see him was at night, more often than not, knocked out until the humans took him in the morning or was too tired to talk and fell asleep on his wing cocoon, the others would be when he was inside the trophy cage.

The demon would see flashes of him flying through the barred cage and the tall tents. Doing acrobacies in mid air that looked similar to when he was above in his homeland, but the feeling to which he flied to, was entirely different.

There was no soul on it, there was no joyful laughter making company to the beautiful dance Sann did on the sky when he first saw him through the small window of his cell, even before Sann first came to visit him at the dungeons.

How long had he observed Sann to know the closed turns were his favorite trick to do back then? How many times had he laughed when he saw those three pairs of wings work, and has seen the angel splat into the trees because he didn´t know the terrain so later he would come to him asking if he could help him take off a stick out of his wings?

In his defense, he was just too interesting to take his eyes away.

He felt a sense of dread when he was pulled out of the cage and forced to walk back to the starter cage. Leaving Sann behind as two poles, one around his neck and the other pinching him in the back, dug into his skin.

How much he regretted he didn´t notice when the hunters came that night and how much he wished he could give him back that freedom to enjoy flying.

The demon was pushed forward and snarled at the human, receiving a painful poke to the side of his abdomen.

“You damn beast should behave like your winged pal. Now, that one knows his place” the human shouted as he digged the pole on his neck getting a pained groan that made him stumble and choke a little on the rope before the human pulled him straight again.

“Such a shame we won´t have him anymore” the other human commented in a sigh. The demon perked his ears and tried to turn, but the pole dug deeper.

“Keep walking” the man growled and the demon obeyed shoving away the anger coiling inside him. Anxiety began tro brew as the two humans continued to talk.

“So that´s really gonna happen? I thought the ring master was more interested in exploring the capabilities of his healing. There´s good coin there…” the man said in a langid voice.

“Oh, he was, but the angel is getting sick or something. It takes too long to make this one’s horns grow again. The Butcher was getting in trouble because he wasn’t providing enough, so he talked to him and Sir decided to put an advert for him” The demon almost stops on his tracks, but he knew better.

The Butcher had certainly hit Sann when he had stopped healing him mid horn before he collapsed on his side and his body squirmed in violent spams. It took him a few minutes to come back to himself.

During that moment it was the only time he was allowed to get close to him and touch him in the Butcher´s presence. The other humans screamed, thinking the demon was doing that to him and tried to hold the angel down, but when the demon used his tail to smack the humans away and hissed to leave him alone, the humans only watched the demon rept to the angel whisper through the muzzle that everything would be alright.

They stared in awe at the demon as the angel came back to himself still shaking even after the convulsions stopped. Both creatures nuzzled each other´s face before inevitably, they were ripped apart. The demon in for another beating.

Of course they would think it was him. Humans didn´t know anything about the rarity´s that occured to them and came to demons for the answers to the questions they barely could formulate and then blame them when it didn´t go as planned.

What happened to the angel, was mere exhaustion, the demon knew, he would have to rest and stop healing him for at least four months if they wanted to continue their wicked business.

The demon continued muttering through the muzzle until the angel opened his eyes again. But even then, his eyes crossed just right when the Butcher straightened him up by the hair and fell flat inconscious into the ground.

With how often it had been happening lately, he had been put into his cage for a while, shows were suspended but instead, he was forced to sit perched up on his cage´s swing and look pretty for the visitors. Wave at them through the nausea he would tell him later he felt all day. He wouldn´t mention it either, but some of his bones and ribs were damaged too because of the human handler´s attempts to keep the angel still.

Without being able to heal it, the angle experienced neverending pain.

“Apparently some rich family´s daughter decided to buy him to form part of her rarity´s zoo” The man said, tuning the demon back into the conversation unfolding before him. “Some of their men will come get him tomorrow night” The demon´s heart skipped a beat as he was shoved inside the cage in heavy panting. The human freed his neck from the rope, yet, he wasn´t relieved in the least when the human kicked the wooden cage “If he´s not around guess we won´t have any use for you anymore, beast” the man´s canines showed as he smiled and patted the cage “Can´t wait to finally have the chance to hunt you down. For real this time, little pest”

The demon kicked the cage as the humans laughed walking away.

“As if I will let a human do that” he spatted in the solitude of his cell before he heard the horn yet again and the door lifted. He still ran in stampede, but this time, he ran to his hiding spot above a tree. By now he had run through the space enough times to recollect enough rocks with his tail and smash them on the ground with just the right amount of strength to sharpen them. He didn´t have much time to experiment with durability, but as the months passed, the large river stone had become quite the sturdy knife. Polished and sharpened enough to cut through his tail, the signs of it, healed by the angel every night.

He grabbed the knife and carefully made a cut through the leather bindings on his arms, stopping right when he felt skin. It was enough overture to give way for the knife to enter and small enough to pass inadvertently.

But now, when he jumped down the tree, he ran through the obvious traps he had fell on the first few times, avoiding the most invisible ones, the bastardous, ankle breaking claws on the ground that would give out his position once he screamed and fell in pain until “the hunters” came to kick the shit out of him or even, hold him down with their poles or seize him. So in that state, he was less of a threat to try to inspect the odd demon that kept a somewhat human form.

He hated the humans that would do that the most. So he stayed a few inches above the ground now, trying to jump from branch to branch.

He wasn´t captured after that, every hunter lost and he was sent to hang next to the Butcher´s tent. This time, there weren´t horns cut up, even if Sann was better, they had sold out tickets to the “great last hunt”

Supposedly, the hunter that got him first the next day, would get to keep him and do to him whatever they pleased.

The demon tried not to think about it and keep the knife working inside the leather keeping his arms together. This night hanging upside down was exactly what he needed. Despite the ache on his ankles and the blood rushing to his head, his hands didn´t stop cutting until they cracked and his arms, numbed out and achy and possibly mismatched as he pulled them forward with a loud crack that forced him to bury the screech on his throat. He cracked his shoulders before bending to cut one of his ankles before the second, careful to not make any noise as he straightened up.

His arms were free finally, if just a bit too heavy, but finally he could lift them up to feel the buckles wrapping around his head, heavy metal padlocks hanging from three different places. He put all his strength in pulling the knife and cut off the leather straps around the edges of his head, slightly cutting one of his ears in the process before he felt it loose and threw it to the ground with a slam.

His chin was a drooling mess and his jaw was so sore without Sann’s healing, but he felt his fangs free, sharper than the knife on his hands or the Butcher’s saw. He passed his tongue over his lips. He felt his muscles aching to run and smash, his claws twitching to be dug into human flesh.

He had been fed everyday for the last months just once a day. Always having Sann put the disgusting gooey putridge between his lips before he ate too because of his useless arms. Whatever was on the bucket had never tasted quite like real food but sufficed to satiate their stomachs for a while.

Suddenly, he heard steps behind him. Heavy, familiar and blood thirsty.

The demon’s pupils became an edge that fixed on The Butcher’s voluminous figure as he set himself in an offensive position. The Butcher passed his hand over the horns hanging from his belt, the very first ones he chopped off his head with a laughter so low it sounded more like an animalistic growl.

The Butcher had never talked to him directly, but his voice, low and deep, sent a shudder down his spine.

“Very well, Pest. I had planned to take you to the young lady who bought the bird, when I caught you tomorrow, but this is perfect” the Butcher stretched his hand towards the bone saw and the fear installed on the demon´s head almost overthrew him, making him hiss and growl as his hair spiked and his tail swooshed irritated “We can just get started now”

The demon bared his fangs and twisted the knife on his hands, adrenaline running through him as the man walked closer, sure to win.

A say ran through the lands closer to the demon´s domains, where unfortunate humans were the one hunted by them, just like he was: For fun and sometimes as appetizers.

“There´s a say in my lands” the demon spoke the human tongue in a hundred voices that drilled inside the Butcher´s head “The sun stole the demon´s true shape, so when night falls, the moonlight grants their true form back to wear and hunt”

A ray of light illuminated over the small demon and shifted, the Butcher stopped on his tracks seeing the monstruos shape it took, a sound close to broken bones, going over and over as the demon became something that made the Butcher’s jaw fall, that made the demon inhale the scent of fear demons craved.

The human in his desperation, in the irrationality of fear, swinged the bone saw above his head, screaming madly.

“As you wish” the demon spoke in a hundred voices behind the Butcher. The demon was pleased to see the moment his eyes widened in absolute terror seeing his gigantic form as the curtain to his tent closed. Catching the blood from the man´s neck from staining the dirt outside.

The Butcher didn´t understand what happened was an illusion at all. The demon licked his bloody lips, sitting over the fallen body of the human, a bite that punctured his throat was non stop bleeding.

“You don´t even taste good enough to be a snack” the demon let out as he licked the blood off his fingers, a claw mark on the man´s stomach digging dip into him. He lifted himself off and picked up the bone saw. Put a little pressure into the middle that ended up breaking it “Well, I will give you that. You at least knew you should have me muzzled” he said tossing the shards away “Word spells are hard to cast with a metal bar inside your mouth” the demon kicked away the muzzle with a huff, “wished I had something better than just words, but demons like me gotta use what they have” he looked down at the human laying on the floor “Now then…”

The demon took the horns hanging from the Butcher´s waist and took one of his assistant´s aprons for himself. Putting the horns on the pockets. He could make very durable knifes with them after all. One for him and one for the angel.

He walked out the Butcher´s tent, finally free to let the humans know who the real hunter was.

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fotiathymos · 4 years

Photo

VULCAN VS LIO DELETED SCENE.

More under cut along with analysis/script. Warning this is a long post!

REUPLOADED CAUSE TUMBLR HATES ME.

(I apologize that the quality of photos changes. It not me its tumblr, I swear!)

Script recap of scene: (takes place right after the Burnish are freed from prison, this is an extension to that scene. It takes place right before the lake scene with Aina and Galo.)

START OF SCRIPT TRANSCRIPT

EXT. INNER COURTYARD

All the gaurds can’t move either from the fire walls or being frozen.

The captured Burnish get on the fireproof helicopter.

Gueira sits in the cockpit. Lio is instructing.

LIO: Okay, go.

The helicopter takes off.

*SUBURB, SKY

The fireproof helicopter is flying with Lio’s group in it.

Three fighter jets are pursuing them.

It is Vulcan leading the Freeze Force in their tactical aircrafts.

Gueira notices them.

GUEIRA: Boss, we got someone on our tail.

LIO: Must be Freeze Force.

VULCAN: You never know when to give up, Burnish!

The tactical aircrafts are in range to shoot.

VULCAN: You can’t shake us off at that speed.

Vulcan locks on. He fires freezing missiles.

Then, the entire helicopter is enveloped in flames. It melts the ice on the freezing missiles. Lio’s flames had enveloped the helicopter.

VULCAN: What?!

Then, the back of the burning helicopter emits flames with great force. It increases the speed of the helicopter.

VULCAN: Tch!

Vulcan’s three jets also increase speed. Then, the helicopter shoots a fiery shell. It’s aiming for Subordinate 1′s jet.

SUBORDINATE 1: Damn it!

He barely dodges. But the firery shell changes direction and pierces the aircraft.

Subordinate 1 ejects. His parachute opens.

VULCAN: What?!

It turns out the fiery shell was Lio. Lio is enveloped by a fiery ball, emitting flames like a jet, flying.

While Lio is dealing with the jets, the helicopter escapes.

VULCAN: He can fly?

Flames come out of fiery Lio’s arms, becoming swords. They slice Subordinate 2′s fighter jet into two.

SUBORDINATE 2: Aaaghh!

Subordinate 2 ejects.

VULCAN: He’s evolved that much, eh?

Lio pulls the canopy off of Vulcan’s jet.

LIO: Tell the governor the Burnish are free. We won’t let you and the Foundation do as you please. I’m taking back my comrades who were hurt.

VULCAN: Did you get caught on purpose?

LIO: Thanks for the help.

Lio flies away.

VULCAN: Come back here!

Just when Vulcan tries to increase speed, the fiery ball at the injection port explodes. It destroys the injection port. Lio had placed it there.

VULCAN: Damn it!

Vulcan ejects as well. He descends in his parachute.

VULCAN: That kid better not get too cocky.

His expression is a bit sly.

END SCRIPT TRANSCRIPT

( Yes I did type and copy that all out from the book .-. )

If you did not notice. Both scenes are Vulcan vs Lio but one is in the air entirely and the other on the ground mostly.

I’ll semi-describe the storyboard scene.

-----

The Burnish are exiting the prison when spot lights shine directly on Lio. An armored vehicle comes crashing through the halls and out the exit, headed straight for the Burnish. Lio runs straight for it.

Vulcan is driving the vehicle. It has a claw attached to the front. The claw raises, prepared to grab Lio. Lio doesn’t stop running straight to the moving vehicle. Right before the claw clamps down, Lio jumps up. Lio flies up into the air. Vulcan seems startled and the vehicles wheels flatten and stop from moving. The flatten wheels bring the vehicle up into the air after Lio.

Fire balls seem to shoot at the vehicle’s front claw. Blinding the veiw of Vulcan. Vulcan looks up from a sky roof in the vehicle only to see Lio skyrocketing above him and then coming straight back down with several firey attacks. Lio aims for the wheels and busts them.

The vehicle starts to smoke and come crashing down. Vulcan is shown peeking out as he falls with an very angry expression.

Another armored vehicle comes out of the prison door below, seemingly ready to fire at the Burnish still on the ground. Suddenly Vulcan’s vehicle comes crashing into it from the air.

Vulcan grumbling out of the rubble of the two crashed vehicles, suddenly notices Lio. Lio is above them, flying, with a stern look on his face. At this point it mimics the script in which Lio tells Vulcan, “ Tell the governor the Burnish are free. We won’t let you and the Foundation do as you please. I’m taking back my comrades who were hurt. “

It then shows a helicopter flying away from the prison, most likely the Burnish rescued. Vulcan grumbles more.

-----

SO. Now thoughts. You can stop reading if you just wanted to see the storyboards deleted scene and the scripts deleted scene.

I understand why they took out this scene but it seems they really wanted it to happen. The storyboards are fleshed out much more then some other deleted scenes and they even had it in the script! It would have shown more power and leadership to Lio’s character and really undermine Vulcan. I almost wish it was included cause then Vulcan beating up Lio restlessly after getting him the with freezing bullet later in the movie would’ve complimented his rage towards Lio.

But of’course, it wasn’t vital. It disrupted the flow in a way. And we do get Vulcan fighting Lio many more times. I think Trigger just was being Trigger and wanted cool fight air scene? I don’t have much of a preference between the script’s scene or the storyboarded scene. I almost enjoy the scripts more cause Gueira has more lines/importance. But Meis still doesn't or is even mentioned? (Though according the lore the leadership ranking is Lio > Gueira > Meis.)

The scene gives the rebellion of the Mad Burnish and the movement to free their people more flesh. Lio’s small speech of ‘tell the gov to suck it and also you suck it too’ was just perfect. Also showing more of Lio’s immense power is a plus!

It also seems like Lio being able to fly is a rarity. Another nudge to his power. I was honestly shocked in theatres when I first saw him flying with groceries in hand. They don’t show anyone else flying but they also don’t show any other Burnish attack much besides the Mad Burnish trio. (Not so much counting the Pizza Man since he just kind of blocked with flames more so then attacked)

There is a lot of things left unshown/unexplored with how Burnish flames work. But also if most Burnish are tortured/captured/told to feel shame for their flames.. they probably don’t try to use it much. This is also why I feel Kray had to have had some sort of practice room/area where he burned and used his flames to gain such power to rival Lio. Lio was forced to learn and adapt to his Promare and use its powers for survival of him and his people. Kray had no threats to his life and had to have had some secret evil lair in the earths core just burning pictures of Galo for practice.

I do enjoy they still take note and care in showing that Lio isn't trying to outright kill anyone. Guards are blocked off or frozen with their own guns. Lio has the pilots eject from their seats and land with parachutes.

All in all this scene played out in either way would’ve been highly enjoyed if it was included in the film! But it understandably was cut out. We can’t have everything! If we did well......................... lets not get into that.

I never know how to end these posts so thank you for reading again! My ask box is open for requests to see other storyboard/script scenes! And please share your thoughts! Everyone sees things differently!

SORRY FOR THE REUPLOAD

#promare #promare storyboard #lio vs vulcan #lio fotia #deleted scenes #GROANS REAL LOUD

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gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

Cantatio: Chapter Fourteen

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: Lan Zhan and Wei Ying get some bonding (?) time with Song Lan.

Cloud Recesses AU, Canon Divergence, Rated T, No Warnings Apply - read on AO3

< Ch. 13 | chapter list

* * *

The guardian lion statue was animated by Baoshan Sanren?

“Impossible!” Lan Qiren shouted. “Are you sure you understood correctly?”

Song Lan clenched his fists. “I would not mistake that name.”

“The ancient recluse?” Wen Qing said. “How could she be here?”

“She can’t. She’s dead,” Song Lan snapped.

“Daozhang! “ Lan Qiren shouted. “You—you—how dare you reveal this? No one is meant to know!”

“What does it matter?” Song Lan’s cry echoed across the lake. The clear water shimmered with ripples that carried his voice to the end of the cave.

It faded to silence.

Baoshan Sanren…dead?

“I thought Baoshan Sanren raised disciples in a hidden mountain,” Jin Zixuan said. “And protected the world from the Yin Iron Amulet. Who’s been shielding us from the amulet’s power if she’s dead?”

Lan Qiren’s voice shook with fury as he pointed at the group. “This is not a matter to be discussed with junior disciples! You will tell no one of what you have just learned!” A cloudy glaze spread across his eyes. “How could this be, daozhang…could one of her disciples still be alive?”

Song Lan slowly rose to his feet. His voice was raspy and laced with choked-back tears. “Is it not a tenet of the Lan Clan to avoid speaking careless words? You know as well as I do that Baoshan Sanren’s disciples are gone. You witnessed one of those deaths yourself. I—I witnessed the rest.”

“Daozhang! Enough! You are the one speaking carelessly!”

Song Lan inhaled deeply and regained some of his composure. “I suppose so. Let us return to the Cloud Recesses. We will not reach any conclusions here.” His eyes strayed to the muddy robes of the young cultivators. “I suppose we must also impose some discipline on these adventurous disciples. I found another entrance to the cave and watched for long enough to observe the situation. Young Master Jin, Lady Wen, Young Master Jiang have—for the most part—committed lesser infractions. I will let Shifu handle them how he pleases. For Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, however,” his voice grew quiet, “I have special consequences I would like to administer personally.”

Lan Wangji’s heart sank. He tried to swallow, but the saliva clung in his mouth and clogged his throat. He had never been addressed this way by an elder outside his family.

He had never been in real trouble before.

And why was he being singled out like this?

Lan Qiren fiddled with his hands in disapproval, as if hearing his nephew’s name in that same sentence as Wei Wuxian was wholly preposterous, despite the fact that he had just been scolding Lan Wangji himself. “And may I ask what daozhang has in mind?” he said sharply.

“They will do something useful for the Cloud Recesses. I will explain once we return.” He looked over at Wen Ning. “And please, reward young Wen Qionglin. It took great courage for him to go against his friends’ wishes. He even urged me to step in while I observed the disciples fighting the guardian statue. He is a bold young man.”

Wen Ning’s face turned white. He seemed like he didn’t know whether to feel praised or frightened.

How long had Wen Ning and Song Lan been watching them? Why had Song Lan not come forward to protect them when they were in danger?

And Baoshan Sanren was dead?

Wei Wuxian seemed to have had similar thoughts. “Daozhang, why did you wait and observe us?”

Something inscrutable flashed across Song Lan’s face. If his expression hadn’t been strained with hidden anguish, it might have been something close to amusement.

“So I would know whose punishment to claim.”

* * *

They traveled through the forest back to the academy on foot because Lan Qiren did not trust Wei Wuxian to ride his sword—and he certainly would not let him tag along on someone else’s. They formed a small, haggard parade: the dignified swishing of Lan Qiren’s blue robes in front, the shadowy steps of Song Lan in back, and the muddy disciples paired off in the middle. After some sarcastic (but warm) remarks from Wen Qing, Lan Wangji found himself next to Jin Zixuan, who at least was silent company, unlike the spritely Wei Wuxian chattering to an apathetic Jiang Cheng behind him.

Lan Wangji’s thoughts darted around incessantly. At the back of his mind like a constant buzz was the feeling of Wei Wuxian in his embrace. It lingered on the skin of his palms like a phantom touch, gentle and prickly. And very unwelcome. It had flipped a switch in him, awakened some slumbering villain that wanted to respond to the innocent warmth he had experienced with…with…Lan Wangji did not dwell on it enough to know what, but it was not good.

But something else tormented his mind with greater intensity.

What kind of punishment did Song Lan have in store for him? Lan Wangji’s throat tightened at the realization that his rule-breaking had finally caught up to him. He had been shirking the Gusu Lan Clan code since his first accidental infraction the night he fought the monster beetle. How comfortable he had become with violating the tenets that structured his life since childhood. No, not comfortable. He was still haunted by guilt, frozen by hesitancy. But he had grown too familiar with standing at the border.

Then again…would he really have done anything different? He didn’t want to admit the answer.

A gnawing in his chest told him that his rule-breaking days were not quite over. Especially knowing what lay in the top room in the mingshi.

However, the loudest thought of all was—

Baoshan Sanren is dead.

No one knew how to find her secret mountain lair. No one even knew how to communicate with her. But for centuries, she had been a constant reassuring presence in the cultivation world, the melodies of her flute echoing across remote valleys from her hideaway where she trained disciples according to a strict ascetic code. She was the protector of half of the Yin Iron Amulet. She was the only force preventing the power-hungry Wen Clan from joining their half of the amulet to its counterpart and recreating an ancient, evil weapon.

When had she died? What had happened to her disciples? Where was the half of the Yin Iron Amulet she protected? This news almost made Lan Wangji afraid, as if a candle had gone out in his childhood bedroom. He understood why the revelation was kept secret from the world.

A sinking feeling in his gut told him that somehow, in a way he couldn’t explain, this was related to the corpse and the guqin that rested in the mingshi.

He and Wen Qing had another mystery to discuss.

A slick voice beside him. “Is what Wei Wuxian said true? About Lady Jiang?”

Lan Wangji turned toward the voice. Apparently Jin Zixuan was plagued by worries of his own.

Lan Wangji replied with a nod. Jin Zixuan looked away, his brow furrowed, contemplative.

Neither spoke again until they arrived back at the Cloud Recesses. Jin Zixuan was welcomed with praise and relieved embraces, and he actually talked to Jiang Yanli. She seemed guarded, but happier than she had been earlier in the day. Perhaps there was hope for the arranged couple, although Jin Zixuan still did not seem like a worthy match.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji, caked in mud and shame, was not greeted with praise. He was greeted by a gruesome punishment he’d be forced to share with Wei Ying.

* * *

“Young M-Master—”

“Wen Ning, stop with the formalities! Call me Wei Ying!”

“Oh. Sorry. Um. Young Master Wei, Second Young Master Lan, I’m s-s-sorry for getting you in trouble.”

It was evening. The screeching of cicadas had been replaced by the chirping of crickets as slender clouds in the sky were painted scarlet. Lan Wangji had bathed and changed, and was now standing next to Wei Wuxian under a tree in the center of the courtyard that held the mingshi. Lan Qiren had already delivered a long-winded, red-faced scolding and ordered beatings for the two rulebreakers—then two extra rounds once Lan Wangji confessed to being out after curfew and swordfighting over wine with Wei Wuxian the night before.

Lan Wangji did not mention entering the mingshi.

After their backs were battered and aching, Lan Qiren reluctantly left them in the hands of Song Lan, who now stood with the animated guardian lion at the foot of the watchtower. Wen Ning, who had been quietly following Song Lan around since the professor had praised him, was slumped before Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian with his hands wrung.

“Don’t worry about it!” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s not a problem at all! You’re just as daring as we are to disobey your sister and get help for us. That’s what I like to see.” Wei Wuxian winked and elbowed Wen Ning on the arm. “We would’ve gotten in trouble anyway, trudging back to the Cloud Recesses with half of us covered in dirt and blood and a lion at our tails. I’m used to getting punished by now.” He smirked. “Not Lan Zhan, though. Maybe Mr. Goody-Goody does want your apology?”

Lan Wangji did his best to tune out Wei Wuxian’s childish giggle. He politely shook his head at Wen Ning.

Wen Ning departed, and Song Lan walked over to the two disciples.

Wei Wuxian bowed. “Daozhang! What will our punishment be? I’m actually kind of excited for it from all the suspense you’ve kept us in.”

Shameless, Lan Wangji thought.

Song Lan scanned them with that cold expression like icicles, although it seemed softer than usual. “How long have you two been acquainted?”

Lan Wangji raised his eyebrows. Why would he ask such a question now?

“Oh, only a few days!” Wei Wuxian said with a grin. “We didn’t meet until we were here in the Cloud Recesses. But now we’re roommates, and best friends. Isn’t that right, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian slung his arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders and tugged him closer.

Lan Wangji’s entire body tensed. He stared at the ground as warmth surged through him.

“Only a few days?” Song Lan asked.

"Yep!”

Song Lan’s eyes brightened. There was almost fondness in his expression, as if he were looking at a trusted belonging he had carried for many years. “Rather remarkable, to be acquainted for such a short time and already make quite the team.”

Wei Wuxian beamed. “Wow, you hear that, Lan Zhan? We’re such great partners that even the daozhang notices! How lucky are we?”

Song Lan paused. That hint of hazy sorrow crept around him again. “Lucky indeed.”

Lan Wangji studied the pebbles at his feet. This was the courtyard were Wei Wuxian had spilled Emperor’s Smile last night. He remembered how exhilarating their swordfight had been, how sweat had beaded at their temples from the challenging parry, how the sweet fragrance of wine followed them as they leapt across the rooftops. The red stain had long since been cleaned from the white gravel of the courtyard, but in Lan Wangji’s mind it was still there. It might be there for a very long time.

Lucky?

Not lucky. Unfortunate, to have met his match in both wit and skill!

“Daozhang,” said Wei Wuxian, “I thought you were going to punish us? Are we off the hook?”

“I have not forgotten.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian said, eyes downcast.

“Come with me,” Song Lan said.

With sore backs from their beatings, they limped after him to the bottom steps of the mingshi, where the guardian lion waited beside its stone podium.

“I am going to teach you how to de-animate a guardian statue.”

“De-animate? As in put it back to sleep?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“Correct. The process does not require anything near the spiritual energy needed for animation, but it is much lengthier, and much more emotionally taxing.” He narrowed his eyes. “Although, perhaps nothing will exceed the struggle Young Master Wei faced in the pixiu.”

Wei Wuxian gaped at him. “You—you know what I did?”

Song Lan gave a small smile. “I suspected. I only needed to recover the pixiu from the forest to confirm.”

“Is that why I’m being punished?” Wei Wuxian crossed his arms. “What about Lan Zhan? I don’t really see why we’re being treated differently from the others.”

“Yes, that is part of the reason. As for Lan Wangji, he is head disciple. Is that not explanation enough?”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian exchanged glances. Something about this did not sit right. Song Lan had ulterior motives for isolating them—whether helpful or harmful, it could not be determined.

“Daozhang…what happened to Baoshan Sanren and her disciples?”

Darkness entered Song Lan’s expression and soon spilled over the two disciples. “I should never have let that information slip from between my teeth. We shall not discuss it again.”

“Okay…” Wei Wuxian rubbed his chin. “Then if she’s dead, how did she animate the lion?”

“I do not know. We shall not discuss her death.”

“…Who else knows she’s dead?”

“No one,” Song Lan said tersely, “and I will not hesitate to silence those who do.”

Wei Wuxian flinched. He looked down and dug the tip of his shoe into the pebbles. “My mother was taught by her.”

This surprised Lan Wangji. Wasn’t Wei Ying the son of a Jiang Clan servant?

Then he realized—Wei Changze—Clan Leader Jiang’s head servant had eloped with Cangse Sanren, a rogue cultivator who was one of only two disciples to ever leave Baoshan Sanren’s hidden mountain. Cangse Sanren and her husband had been dead for over fifteen years, and Baoshan Sanren’s other disciple Xiao Xingchen had disappeared. If what Song Lan said in the cave was true…then Xiao Xingchen must be dead as well.

The corners of Song Lan’s mouth tightened, etching lines into his skin. “I’m sorry.”

Wei Wuxian gave an empty smile. “The Jiangs raised me well, though.”

There was hesitance in his voice. Thinking back on Alchemy & Medicine class with Yu Ziyuan, Lan Wangji wondered how much Wei Wuxian meant those words. It was no secret that Yu Ziyuan had a fraught relationship with her adopted son. The blows she gave him in a classroom surrounded by other disciples was already enough to scar, never mind the effects of enduring a lifetime of what worse things she may do in private.

“I once knew someone who was acquainted with your mother,” Song Lan said.

Wei Wuxian perked up. “Really?”

“Yes. He said that she was…” He seemed to search for the answer in the clouds. “Headstrong, might be the word.”

“Haha! I’ve heard!”

Song Lan’s eyes twinkled. “She is likely the reason Lan Qiren harbors such a strong distaste for you.”

“Wait, really?”

Uncle has many other reasons to dislike Wei Ying, Lan Wangji thought.

Song Lan tilted his head, appearing amused. “I’m surprised you do not know why.”

“Well…the Jiangs never told me many stories about her.”

That made sense. Jiang Fengmian was rumored to have been in love with Cangse Sanren before his arranged marriage to Yu Ziyuan. It was likely that Madam Yu forbade mention of the woman in her house, unless it was by her own vitriol.

“I have spent most of my life outside of these lands,” Song Lan said, “but even I have heard the stories of the pranks that Cangse Sanren played on Lan Qiren. Notably, that she once cut off his beard.”

Wei Wuxian burst into laughter. Lan Wangji twinged his lips and straightened his posture, thinking back to the Trans-Himalayan nonsense about Lan Qiren in class.

That’s the part where Tran and Sim each grab one side of Lan Qiren’s moustache, Wei Wuxian had said before the classroom erupted into giggles.

Yes, Cangse Sanren sounded just as intolerable as her son, and just as disrespectful of Uncle’s facial hair.

Wei Wuxian rubbed his eyes, teary with laughter. “That’s amazing! What a bold move! I would’ve had the best mom!” His laughter cut off abruptly. His smile remained, but it was hollow again. He looked down.

A lump formed in Lan Wangji’s throat. Despite Wei Wuxian’s shamelessness, with every layer of this soul that peeled back for Lan Wangji to observe, he felt more and more drawn to him. They both knew what it was like to lose their mother at a young age. What other sorrows did they share?

“Daozhang, who was your friend that knew my mother?” Wei Wuxian asked.

Song Lan frowned, then turned away to stare at the horizon, where the sun was lowering in the sky.

A long silence passed. Finally, they assumed that he would not answer. They headed toward the statue podium, upon which the lion was now waiting.

“A good friend.”

They faced Song Lan again. For once, Wei Wuxian did not seem to know how to respond. The three cultivators stood motionless as the crimson sunset caressed their cheeks, a bit of Song Lan’s frosty demeanor seeming to melt beneath it.

“This is the best kind of friend,” said Lan Wangji.

Song Lan nodded. “Indeed. Shall we begin de-animating the guardian statue?”

“Do we have to? I kind of like him.” Wei Wuxian approached the lion and patted its head. His face lit up. “Wow, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, come here! Come pet him! He’s purring!”

Lan Wangji stepped forward and placed a hand next to Wei Wuxian’s. It was true. The stone beneath his palm was vibrating with a gentle hum.

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian snickered. “You know, Lan Zhan, you purr too when you’re happy. Like a big burly stone-faced kitten. You two could be siblings.”

“Ridiculous.” Lan Wangji removed his hand and strode away to stand next to Song Lan.

“Haha! But really, Daozhang, do we have to put him to sleep?” Wei Wuxian said. “Why not keep him alive? Why not animate the spirits in all of the statues?” He ran his fingers over the lion’s carved mane. “They’re intelligent, kind, powerful. They could live with us in the Cloud Recesses. They could protect us and be our friends.”

Song Lan seemed to truly ponder this suggestion. Then he sighed. “Some spirits are meant to leave us. They walk alongside us, yes, but not in this world.”

“…Oh.”

The two disciples stepped into formation around the guardian lion, kneeling at its feet, with Song Lan at its side.

“So, how do we do it?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“The spirit will perform most of the work,” Song Lan said. “But it will need your assistance. Guardian spirits are formed from protective intentions gathered over many years. These prayers are still present, but they need to be remolded with the help of new ones. If many cultivators laid hands upon the statue at the same time, a simple focus from each person would be sufficient. However, there are only two of you. To obtain strong enough protective intentions, the spirit will put you through a trial.”

Lan Wangji glanced up. “Of what?”

Song Lan frowned. “Explaining it to you will not make you any more prepared. Just…just remember that none of what you will experience is real.”

That did not sound promising.

“Place your hands upon the statue and reach out to its spirit. It knows what must be done. There will be no need to communicate.”

They nodded, then laid their hands on the cold, rugged stone and waited for whatever fate the spirit had in store for them.

* * *

Thanks for reading! These chapters (and more to come) can also be found on AO3!

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Note

Can you write a short dark fic for the pairing Joey x Henry, where after Henry threatens to leave the studio, Joey snaps and kidnaps Henry and turns Henry into a perfect Boris or Bendy so that Henry would never leave his side, please?

Summary: Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obcession.

---

[[MORE]]

When brought into the world children were never inherently cruel. They were curious and blunt, which often resulted in uncomfortable situations for those they interacted with, but overall younglings were empathetic at heart until reshaped and redefined into something otherwise.

The world was a terrible influence after all, and it could marr even the purest of things.

There were exceptions to this rule however…

Joey Drew had certainly been a curious kid. Unabashedly blunt too, with how often his innocent words cut deep into both his parents and peers.

But not once did he empathise enough with others to be considered a kind child.

If anything, most others his age had steered clear from his company, finding the mellow kid with the great big toothy smile to be unsettling on an instinctive level. Children were, after all, capable of sensing evil. Even in its stages of infancy.

So imagine everyone's surprise (Joey's included) when Henry Stein decided to befriend the town's most infamous little black sheep.

Kind bleeding heart that he was, Henry had thought it unfair that others would judge another as strongly as they judged Joey, so he'd taken it upon himself to make the kid next door's life a little less lonesome.

Give him what he surely needed: A good and caring friend.

Needless to say, he regretted that decision more than anything in the world...

It hadn't always been so bad. Once Joey had actually been a friend to him, and cared enough to look after Henry when he'd most needed.

Now however? Now Henry could barely recognize the monster behind that unnerving grin...

The burning selfish desires in those sapphire blues, hidden behind an half-lidded expression that was reserved to feign a serene and caring persona…

As charming and handsome as Joey looked (because he'd always been unnaturally pretty, even when going through the awkward stages of puberty), Henry couldn't help find his apathetic and selfish nature abominably hideous.

Especially now as he brought him the results of yet another failed experiment.

"I'm getting closer dear friend." He held the snapping, snarling little beast at arm's length, this failed mockery of Edgar barely looking like the adorable cartoon spider he was meant to be. "Soon I'll be able to make you perfect, and then we'll be back together as the dynamic duo we always were..."

Henry shuddered at the thought, tightly curling in on himself as he watched Joey end the poor creature's miserable existence. His bowl where his meals were served clattering loudly, as the inky heart of the slain critter was tossed onto it with precision. A mimicry of flesh thumping against the metal with a wet splat.

He fought back the urge to cry as he felt his mouth water.

"Eat up my loyal wolf… We can't be wasteful." Joey's cruel smile almost ruined his appetite. Almost. "Don't worry, this wasn't anyone you knew…"

With that said, Joey left him to greedily consume the offering.

Looking in the bowl's reflective surface once he'd licked it clean, Henry found that he could barely recognize himself anymore.

His stretched out face progressively becoming less and less humanoid as he was fed the experimental failures of Joey's horrid machine, and his pale hair having long since turned black and begun to spread.

He looked like what one would envision Boris the Wolf to look like in some lovecraftian fever dream. Dressed in ill-fitting ripped clothing, and barely able to balance a pair of cracked glasses on the bridge of his elongated nose.

An inhuman beast that fed off of the misfortune of others, losing his humanity as time passed on by.

He wondered if he'd forget himself eventually. If he'd forget that the devil in disguise that was Joey Drew was to blame for his malformations.

If one day he'd actually grow to love his captor in the same manner that Stolkholm syndrome victims tended to do, once brainwashed into submission by their abusers?

Another shudder forced a garbled whimper out of his deformed face.

To whatever god that could hear his broken pleas, he sure hoped not.

Henry didn't want to give Joey what he wanted.

Not when that monster of a man had taken him away from his family to keep as some sort of freak show pet.

Playing some sick version of house with the "puppy" he sustained on a cannibalistic diet. Disgusting.

Curling up, Henry cried himself to sleep. Thinking of his wife and children.

Missing them terribly while locked up in the bowels of Joey's demented studio.

The Ink Demon wasn't bad company, Henry had found. It seemed to understand his pain on a level no other creature did, offering him what little compassion it could whenever Joey dropped by with more "food".

It feared and loathed that devil of a man just as much as Henry did, and it knew to be kind despite never once being treated with the same sort of respect.

The one positive of this odd kinship between the two, was that Joey seemed pleased by them forming the sort of bond Bendy and Boris had. Thus never getting in between their interactions.

"One day soon, it'll all be just as I envisioned." He'd purr as he pinned the bound inky wolf to the ground, touching Henry in a way that made him want to gag, and rip the rat bastard's throat out with his horrific set of doggish teeth. "Just a little more and you'll be perfect."

He didn't want to be perfect.

All Henry wanted was to kill Joey Drew and go home.

"But first, I have a surprise for you." A surprise that came right after this twisted display of "affection". This gross invasion of the abominable wolf's personal bubble.

Joey presented him with an absolutely Perfect Boris.

Overalls, pie cut eyes, soft velvety fuzz and all… no signs of dripping or asymmetrical proportions.

The terror in those eyes however… it was all too human.

"I told you I'd find a way to reach perfection. Once I've finished tweaking the process you'll be just as perfect as him… Maybe more." Joey purred. "I miss your voice after all, dearest friend. Until then I give you this fearful pup to do with as you wish."

Upon his tormentor's departure, the cartoon wolf scrambled away from Henry. Shaking like a leaf and whining pitifully.

A child, Joey had converted a child…

Hell hath no fury like the righteous rage of a scorned father.

That bastard would pay for all he'd done!

But first, the large and deformed beast that was Henry Stein carefully scooted over to the shaking Boris clone and comforted him as best he could.

He'd protect this poor pup, no matter what.

The Ink Demon seemed to be in favour of extending that same grace, although it did still go for the kill when the less than agreeable ink monsters came around looking for trouble.

Buddy's transformation had certainly enraged him when Joey presented the poor boy to him. Sammy's and Norman's fates however were the last straw to break the camel's back.

Most of the people that worked at the studio were strangers to Henry, but the young musician and the oddball projectionist had been friends to him.

With every stranger's heart he consumed, the large beast of a wolf grew more and more restless. The revulsion he felt when looking upon Joey growing into an all consuming desire to violently murder his captor.

When a faceless ink creature wearing only suspenders and a Bendy mask came in one day to bring him his meal however…

"My lord wishes me to feed you, oh Great Lupine... Abyssal Hunger of the Ink's Abyss…" The body shape wasn't one he recognized. The slight arch to the creature's legs a bit strange to look at, and the four fingered hands an indication that something strange had definitely come to pass in this poor madman's transition into his current state. But that voice…

"Shhh...Shhaaammiieeee…?" His voice had returned as a dissonant mess, one that was not fit for a gross mockery of a muzzle like his own.

"Is… Is that my name, oh Hungry One?" There was both fear and hope in his voice. That in itself made something twinge painfully in Henry's chest. "I… Yes, yes that is my name isn't it? Sammy… I… oh thank you kindly, Benevolent Wolf. Please, feast upon your meal. I have worked hard to acquire it in the name of our Lord, your most wonderous companion."

What had Joey done to Sammy Lawrence, the proud music director that had more than half the mind this mindless drone had? Good heavens, what had he done that completely broke the poor kid?!

Rather than voice his horror, Henry did as he was told. After all the more he ate, the more his gluttonous appetite grew… as did this horrid body he was stuck with.

Abyssal hunger indeed…

He forgot what shame tasted like, but not mercy.

As selfish as it may be, he did request one thing.

"It is as you wish, oh Hungry One… I shall protect all pups that enter my lair." The Prophet bowed once, twice and then trice as he took Buddy by the hand. "Another horror skulks in the darkness, wearing an Angel's face. She hunts wolves, for fun. I shall show them your mercy."

He trusted that Sammy would keep his word. He was as stubborn as they could get, after all, and did not back off from a challenge very easily.

Henry would miss Buddy's company though.

That particular encounter was bad on a moral level, but it did turn out alright in the end. When the Projectionist was presented to him as a play thing however, Henry had begun to crack. No one deserves such a horrible fate as to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Norman had once carried a world of unimaginable knowledge on his back.

Now he only had the painful weight of a projector on his neck, and the volatile temper of a mindless beast.

The deformed wolf had done his best to gain the creature's trust, but it feared being attacked far too much to let a nearly 20 foot inky monstrosity near itself.

Self preservation hadn't completely left the Projectionist it seemed.

He'd let it go, hoping doing so would be a sign of good will on its own.

And then when he'd been once again left alone, Henry continued to stew in his anger. Talked himself into showing a rarer more violent side on Joey's next visit.

Even tried to fight back against him the next when he tried to touch him.

This was a losing battle however… After all, Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obsessions.

Henry Stein just so happened to be his biggest obsession. Even as this horrifically imperfect monster that only an equally horrific demon could ever hope to understand.

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim #henry stein #joey drew

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Winter’s Fall (One)(WinterIron)

Welcome to the story! A commission for @iam93percentstardust, @simplynerdy-gal @multishippinglife and @livewire28 who wanted a very Winteriron twist on the Sleeping Beauty story.

I’m not afraid to say it, this shit is adorable and the Winteriron friendship turning to love is just cavity inducing sweetness! I loved being able to weave some Greek mythology in with canon references, I love the utter Softness of Prince Charming! Tony, and the nonstop Sass from Bucky I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do!

{Note: Echidna is known as the mother of monsters in Greek mythology, and one of her offspring is the Hydra monster, which is important to this story for all the obvious reasons. Read more HERE and HERE.}

MASTERLIST HERE

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Once Upon a Time...

The castle by the sea caught the last rays of the winter sunset and reflected brilliantly under the gentle glow. Marbled walls shaded soft pink and rich purple, the ocean below tossed deep blue and shadowed gray waves against white cliffs and the evening wind brought a crispness to the air that spoke of coming snow.

Inside the home, servants closed the last of the windows to be sure the halls and great room stayed cozy for the all the attending guests and lit every chandelier so each lovely gown and piece of ornately stitched brocade was displayed to it's best. The floors were polished to a high shine, the statues and decor dusted, drapes cleaned and banisters smoothed all to be sure the castle was as beautifully put together as could be.

Tonight was the night the two month old Prince James was to be christened, baptized and blessed and finally introduced to the Kingdom, and all needed to be exactly perfect.

Gathered in the main ballroom was a crush of the most important people in the realm-- Lords and Ladies, visiting dignitaries and stewards, the bishop and priests. The General Ross and his second in command were present, the Royals Stark with their son Prince Anthony, and as a show of respect to the ancient magic woven through the land, even the good witch Margaret and the King and Queen Fae had been invited.

The bishop wasn’t thrilled about seeing old magic mingling with new religion, but King George cleared his throat loudly when one of the priests spoke up to complain, and on his other side, King Howard pinned the priest with the sort of look that quelled even the strongest objection.

“It would be unwise of His Majesty to seek the blessing of only one spiritual force in this Kingdom, don’t you think?” Howard said slowly, pointedly. “Surely we all want as many blessings for Prince James as possible, isn’t that correct?”

“Well yes but--but-- but--” the priest tried to stammer but neither Howard nor George were listening anymore, both the Kings turned to watch their wives approach the gilded bassinet that held the little Prince.

“Oh, he’s beautiful.” Maria gathered her heavy skirts and knelt to brush gentle fingers over the baby’s satin soft cheek. “Winnie, you must be so happy, look how lovely he is. Such dark hair too!”

“He looks like a foot.” Prince Anthony was two and a half years old, wildly rambunctious and hilariously outspoken and as he peered at the baby from beneath a riot of curls, his little nose scrunched as if unimpressed. “Why is he wrinkly?”

“Anthony!” Maria gasped. “Baby James does not look like a foot!”

Winnie only chuckled and hugged the toddler to her side, kissing her godson’s forehead. “All babies are wrinkly, my little Tony. But one day he will grow to be just as handsome and charming as you are, you’ll see.”

“I dunno about that.” Tony said doubtfully. “He’s pretty wrinkly.”

“You’ll see.” Winnie repeated and stood up to take Maria’s hand. “Shall we go see the fairies, I don’t want them to feel slighted ignored. No use stirring up that sort of ill will, hm?”

“I’m sure they were happy just to be invited. There is no ill will here tonight.” Maria soothed, and with one last glance at her son to be sure Tony was behaving, she followed the other Queen around the room to greet the visitors.

Tony stayed behind at the baby’s crib, eyeing the various gowns and colorful outfits with mild curiosity, wondering at the wings on some of the shorter people, and nibbling at a stash of cookies he’d hidden in the silken pockets of his overly ruffled outfit. He crammed the sweet treats into his mouth about as fast he could, and ended up getting crumbs all over the floor, himself, and onto the baby’s blanket.

“Oopsie.” Tony looked around guiltily, then reached in and tried to brush the crumbs away. “Sorry baby, sorry. Didn’t mean to get you messy--” he stopped when baby James’s eyes opened wide and blinked at him. “Oh. Hi. Are you awake?”

He poked at the soft tummy with just one finger and then jumped when the baby waved tiny fists around and tried to grab at him. “Hi baby. My name’s Tony.”

“Little Prince.” A puff of air and a stir of magic, and Tony jumped when the witch Margaret shimmered into sight next to him. “Are you sharing your cookies with Prince James?”

“Ummmmm….” Tony looked down at the cookies still clutched in his hand and then down at the crumbed blankets. “Yes?”

“Ah.” Margaret smiled down at him. “Would you like a little help cleaning up?” A flick of her fingers and twist of her wrist and the crumbs disappeared, and Tony gasped in delight when he suddenly had more cookies. “There, isn’t that better? I think Prince James is too young to eat cookies for now, so why don’t you have them and when he gets older you can promise to share with him? That’s what charming princes do, you know. Share their cookies.”

“Oh I promise!” Tony’s dark eyes lit in happiness. “Thanks, Mar’get!”

“You are very welcome, little love.” Margaret said warmly. “Now tell me what you think of--”

The witch suddenly froze, and before Tony could ask what was wrong, she snatched him right up against her body, hiding the toddler in her skirts so he wouldn’t see whatever was coming.

“Your Majesties!” she called, and both sets of Royals turned her way. “Please? This way, I don’t know what is coming but please come closer to me!”

The royals hurried towards Margaret and one of the fairies screamed when they felt the evil roiling through the room. They were snatched back by another just in time to avoid being burnt as the air seemed to pop and boil around them, searing smoke of burnt red and silver gray gathering into clouds at their feet. There was a rumble of thunder, the chandeliers flickering and drapes whipping in a sudden wind, a flash of light--

--and a too tall woman with too thin limbs straightened up to stand in their midst.

“How…peculiar.” the intruder said slowly, and the words echoed as if from a great distance. “An entire celebration full of royals and fairies and witches and yet I-- I was not invited?”

“Echidna.” Margaret moved to stand in front of the crib, blocking baby James and Tony with her body to keep them from the monsters sight. “Mother of monsters, of course you were not invited. You bring only chaos and terror and you are not welcome in this place.”

“A shame.” Echidna waved her hand idly through the still dissipating smoke, her clawed fingers and scaled skin nearly yellow in the light. “It seems perilous to honor the old magic but then shun the eldest and most powerful of them all, don’t you think? I love babies, even the ones far less dangerous than my own little monsters and my feelings are terribly hurt at being ignored. What is the saying, my dear Margaret? Hell hath no fury…”

“Echidna.” Margaret held tight to Winnie’s hand when the Queen cried out in fear. “Echidna, you will not dare--”

“Hush.” Echidna was more ancient than Margaret, a creature from a time beyond time and it took nothing more than a snap of her fingers to bind Margaret’s mouth and silence the witch entirely. “I won’t hurt the little beast, but I will give it a blessing of my own. Isn’t that why we are all here?”

She whirled to face the room, curved fangs peeking from beneath her lips when she saw the humans cowering, even the fairies turning away. “Isn’t that...why we...are all...here.” Echidna said again, enunciating the words with malicious intent. “To bless the newest Prince? To honor and be honored with our presence? Surely I deserve a chance to whisper into the child’s ear?”

No one dared move, no one dared speak and Margaret couldn’t speak even though she desperately wanted to. She kept one hand on Tony to keep him hidden in the folds of her gown and with the other hand Margaret kept hold of George, compelling him to stay still.

Too quick a movement, too obviously violent an intention towards her, and Echidna would not hesitate to kill. Margaret had seen the witch kill simply for pleasure, she’d seen Echidna rip heads off and hearts out before sinking her fangs into what was left and draining it dry, she’d seen the mother of monsters feed her gruesome children entire villages, Margaret had seen it all.

It had been centuries since Echidna had stirred from her lair within the black cliffs and neither Margaret nor the fairies knew what had brought the creature to the surface, but here Echidna was, and Margaret was helpless to do anything.

“Please.” Winnie covered her mouth with both hands and shook her head. “Oh please-- please my baby--”

“Shhh.” Echidna brushed one scaled knuckle down Winnie’s cheek as she passed to the bassinet. “I am a mother too, you know. I will not lay a hand on him, you have my word.”

The mortals in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief, but the fairies shared an uncertain look. They knew better than anyone that a witch’s promise only applied to the exact words she said, that harm could be dealt without a hand being raised, and as Echidna swept her snakeskin cloak behind her, as the claws at her feet tsinged across the polished floor, every fairy present knew something terrible was about to happen.

“Hello, little beast.” Echidna murmured to the baby, her lip curling in near disgust as she stared down at his smooth skin and soft hair. “Are you sleeping?”

Baby James opened his eyes again and Echidna’s smile was an awful thing, her voice both syrupy sweet and sharp as nails as she leaned into his crib to whisper,

“Before you are grown you will seek to fly, risking all to touch the sun. But Icarus lost his wings and so will you, winter’s fall will not be undone. A slip from heights, a careless step, a slide to down below. A beauty lost, a Kingdom torn, and that’s the way the horror goes.”

Margaret was shaking with rage by the time Echidna had finished but she was forced to silence by the other creature’s magic, unable to do anything but hold the family back until Echina moved away from the crib and towards the center of the room.

“Perhaps next time you humans will not be so quick to ignore me.” She bared her fangs in a gruesome smile. “Congratulations on your little bundle of joy. Enjoy him… while you can.”

A roll of thunder and a flash of light and Echidna’s mocking laughter echoed across the ballroom long after the creature herself had gone.

Maria snatched Tony up and hid her tears in his hair, and Howard held both his wife and his child tight as George and Winnie ran to gather up James, clutching the babyover their heart.

“Do something.” George ordered, his voice cracking in the terrified silence. “There is more magic in this room than there is stretched across the entire realm. One of you do something! Do not let that monster curse our child!”

“Your Majesty, we are not strong enough to break Echidna’s curse.” One of the fairies whispered. “Her power is rooted before our time, we cannot--we have no way of--”

“--the best we can do is bless James with something that will help him counter the curse.” Margaret could only speak once the last of Echidna’s smoke had disappeared and the first thing she did was murmur into Winnie’s ear and press comfortingly at George’s hand before motioning for them to give her James. “Give him here, love. Let me have him.”

Winnie was crying as she handed the witch her child, openly sobbing when George pulled her back several steps. Maria wrapped an arm around Winnie’s waist and Tony, who had no idea what was going on at all, whined and tried to pull away from Howard’s too tight hold.

“Baby!” he insisted. “Let me see the baby!”

“It’s alright.” Margaret spread her skirts on the floor and patted at her leg so Tony would come sit with her. “The boy is alright, let him come here.”

Tony ran over and snuggled into Margaret’s lap, thankfully too intent on cookies and the little noises James was making to see the tears in everyone’s eyes.

“The Kingdom will fall to winter and the castle will hide behind the dark.” Margaret began slowly, and Winnie made a muffled, panicked noise. “But your heart will not cease neither will your soul depart. You will slip, little love, and yes you will fall. But you will only sleep, only rest, until true love conquers all.”

“True love.” King George shook his head. “How could true love conquer a curse when Echidna said it would come before James is grown? He might not be old enough to have his first kiss, much less old enough to fall in love, it could happen anytime! How does this help, Margaret?”

“I’ve done all I can.” Margaret whispered, and leaned in to kiss Tony’s chubby cheek before kissing James’s forehead. “There are more ways than one to love, your Majesty, and very few demand romance or a kiss. Very few indeed.”

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

That night Howard and George stood by the fire and smoked their cigars, muttering quietly about the days events while Maria and Winnie sat upstairs in the nursery rocking their babies and trying not to cry.

“What do you think Margaret meant, that very few ways to love demand romance or a kiss?” Winnie asked into the silence, tucking James’s blankets in a little closer. “What happens if the curse comes around before he is old enough to find love?”

“I don’t know.” Maria hated to admit, and she held Tony a little closer as the toddler slept. “I don’t know what she means and I don’t know how her blessing will help but--”

“Maria, what is that?” Winnie pointed towards Tony’s cheek, to the shimmer on his little face. “That mark?”

“Oh, it’s where Margaret kissed him.” Maria rubbed at the glittered spot absentmindedly. “Every time she kisses him, the glitter stays for a few minutes. It’s never stayed this long before, but we’ve never had such an emotional day either.”

“It’s on James too.” Winnie turned the baby towards the firelight so Maria could see the glitter dusting the baby’s forehead. “A bit of protection for the children, maybe?”

“I’m sure.” Maria comforted, and then, “Would you like us to stay for a while, at least Tony and I? I don’t want you here alone and I’d worry about James if we were gone and something--” she swallowed hard. “If something happened, I don’t think I could bear it.”

“Please stay.” Winnie reached for Maria’s hand and squeezed hard. “Please? You are my best friend, and seeing our boys be friends would make me very happy.”

“I’m sure Tony and James will be entirely inseparable.” Maria cuddled Tony a little closer, readjusting him where he lay on her shoulder. “Absolute hellions together. We’ll go positively gray trying to keep up with their antics.”

“Absolute hellions.” Winnie agreed, and sighed shakily. “I can’t wait to see them grow up together.”

If they grow up together was the unspoken end to her sentence, but neither mother said it aloud.

For tonight they would only hold their babies and think of the coming sunrise and not the looming winter, and think on Margaret’s blessing instead of Echidna’s curse.

It was all they could do for now.

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

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#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #james bucky barnes #sleeping beauty #peggy carter #howard and maria stark #greek mythology #fairy tale au

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chaniters · 4 years

Text

Intervention, part two.

An Argent-Ortega fic, Soft is sometimes the best Sidestep. The title is a callback to an earlier fic that has nothing to do with this, and titles are just hard for me tonight.

Cyrus decides to let the two rangers visit his evil lair, and nobody knows what to expect, him least of all.

WARNING, there are slight implications that might be spoilerous for the Alpha, so don’t read if you want to stay clear of those!!!

Enjoy!

________________________________________

“So… this is it” you state with little energy.

“I KNEW IT! I knew it was a sewer base!” Argent states as she walks through the security gate you installed.

“We know. This is the fifth time you say it” You answer as she moves past you.

“You didn’t even take anything out of the box?” Ortega asks appalled looking at the towers of piled state-of-the-art technological priceless junk you’ve been stealing from the biggest companies in town, all of them still in their original packaging.

“This is… quite the collection” Argent says looking at them with her special sight.

“I don’t really need any of that”

“You… are a hoarder. I can’t believe you’re living like this again” he adds

“Again?” Argent asks.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve caught him living in a sewer ruin”

“I KNEW IT! You’re a mole-person!”

“Yeah, that’s what Anathema used to say...” you say tiredly. Shit. Why is this all so familiar?

“Cyrus, I can’t let you…”

“No!” you interrupt because you know where this is going. He’s pulled the same exact shit, using Argent to get him here “I’m staying here. This isn’t back then. This is now. I’m not going to stay with you or in your guest room or whatever. You know how dangerous this is, and we both know I won’t be safer in with you. You won’t be safer with me, you know that. I’m a criminal now”

“But you can’t…-”

“I said no,” you say looking at him, completely resolute.

“I just…,” he says looking between you and Argent “... Mierda. Fine. Ok, I get it” he says. “But I don’t like it. You’re not well Cyrus, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“What’s new with that? Besides, you’re here now, right?”

He groans, moving past piles of boxes that force you all to move sideways.

“Do you even have any open space in here?” he asks, trying not to sound too passive-aggressive, and failing.

“Yeah I do, further along... I wasn’t thinking of showing it to anyone, ok?” you say embarrassed. Why are you embarrassed? “This is a villain’s lair and not a fancy home, I’m a fugitive from literally everyone, what did you expect?.”

“Well, you know, since you’ve been stealing so much, I thought that maybe you would have sold some of this shit…”

“I can’t take chances getting all of these in the market! You know what happens to criminals who act like big spenders, it’s a basic mistake. And you know I don’t care about cash, I just need to be in the news.”

“I don’t mean cash, I mean living space,” he says struggling to move past the narrow passage filled with boxes of neuro-chip parts from all the best brands in modding tech. “Sorry. I don’t generally get a guided tour trough evil lairs”

“It’s not an EVIL lair…” you say defensively.

“I think I’ll just shut up for a moment”

Eventually, you all come out of the forest of boxes into the remaining open space on the old station. The old ticket booths have been turned into storage for your suit’s parts, a number of weapons and a few computers. The adjacent security office is where you’re now assembling the skin regenerator. Ortega’s eyes lock up on your board, were your plans used to be. You removed everything before he got here, and he clearly notices.

“It’s not dirty as the rest of the tunnels,” Argent says running a silver finger trough the surfaces.

“Well, I did take some stuff out of the box… I’ve got about a dozen Loombas sweeping the floors every two days.”

“So THAT’s why you were stealing cleaning supplies…” Ortega ponders as he moves on.

“I’ve got… a sort of… living room?” you say nervously fiddling with the key of the old control room and administrative offices. This is so wrong, this place looks like a hoarder’s junkyard and you knew it. Why didn’t you just meet them someplace else? There’s plenty of locations to have secret meetings… but no. You had to let Ortega and Argent invite themselves into your secret base. You finally match the correct key with the lock, opening the door.

“So… uh… here it is,” you say motioning them into the old subway control-room that you refurbished into a living-room, hoping it will get better reception than your hoarder sea of unopened tech junk boxes.

Sofa, TV set, mini bar, some magazines, and a perpetually running air conditioning device keeps it cool and dry. It doesn’t look too bad, right? You even have a few posters here.

Shit.

You rush to stand just in front of the Ranger’s old calendar, open on Ortega’s issue, the one where he’s wearing the least. You turn to face them hoping Ortega didn’t see it… Double shit.

He didn’t, but it’s somehow worse now, because Argent certainly did, in full colored detail. The resulting hyena laughter makes you die a little inside, as you blush beyond the red spectrum.

“What is it?” Ortega asks, perplexed.

“Nothing!” you say removing the cursed thing and rolling it into a tube keeping it behind your back. “It’s nothing!” He gives you that suspicious look… You can’t read his thoughts but he must be thinking it’s some part of your masterplan… ugh. You should probably burn it before he sees it. Argent’s mocking smile is relentless as she walks past you...

“Oh it’s certainly not just ‘nothing’” Argent says taking the thing off your hands while you were distracted. “This… is everything!”

“No! Give it back!” you let out hopelessly

“Hey, I want to see it too!” she says keeping it a few inches above your reach. Shitshitshit. That’s what you get for being made too short. The farm ruins your life yet again.

The two of them gang up and move you out of the way… Ortega’s smugness as Argent shows him is so strong you have to look down to avoid his gaze.

“You realize, of course, now I’m going to have to kill you,” you say trying to muster your villainous voice.

“Come here you little freak!” Ortega says pulling you into a hug that you don’t even try to dodge because what’s even the point now that he knows just how bad you had it all along. That thing is old, from before your capture, and he can obviously tell you had to look for it.

Sinking into his arms it with no shields, there is kissing, laughter and ruffling your hair and everything he knows infuriates you, with Argent just watching amusedly.

This is a new low…

He finally released the hug, keeping just an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and Argent approaches to readjusts your wrinkled shirt. “Relax Cyrus! We’re just messing with you”

You almost lift a hand to stop her, but there is something soothing in the gesture, in having both of them so close… so warm.

You can’t read Ortega’s thoughts but you can certainly feel hers. She thinks the two of you look cute, especially with the height difference, him looking so protective over you. It makes you feel small but in a new -good- way for a change. She’s the one that’s too cute, worrying about your clothes. You should probably tell her that at some point.

“I’m used to being messed with. Just … not this way”

“Not used to people going through your stuff huh?” she says handing you your calendar back as a peace offering “Really good picture by the way…” she adds to Ortega with an unexpectedly mischievous smile. The one she used to make you lose your grip on reality when you took that mask off.

“Thanks,” you both say, you because you’re getting the calendar back, him because he’s falling into her world.

“I’m not used to having stuff period”

“I can tell from what you did with all your stolen tech,” Ortega says rubbing your shoulder before pointing at the calendar. “Must say this is a real confidence booster… you know, I didn’t know if you were into me at all back in the day, it was always making out and you running, and then kissing… You always left me clueless. Good to know I still have it”

“You always had it,” you say with a nervous laugh without thinking…. which leads into him smiling back, and a kiss, and Argent rubbing your back gently because she *wants* this go further between you and...and it’s getting warm, too fucking warm, and you just can’t…

“Sooo do you want a drink maybe? I have a few things” you say untangling yourself from them in the gentlest -but swiftest- way possible.

Ortega lets out a soft chuckle. “See? It’s always like that Angie. One wrong step and you lose him”

“It wasn’t ALWAYS like that,” you say bringing beer and a carbonated sugary drink that you know Argent will like because that’s a perk of telepathy, knowing everything that people want and choosing what to give them.

For instance, you know she wants you, but this soda’s all she’s going to get right now. You brought them here to discuss serious matters, this isn’t a date or anything like that...

“Ooooh. So you didn’t escape him at some point? He finally got you, Cyrus?”

Why in the hell do you even have a mouth, you wonder. Why must you repeatedly shoot yourself in the foot? Are you doing this on purpose?

“You bet I did!” he snorts, making you tremble as you serve the drinks. You’ve never been so embarrassed without knowing why in your life. “I got him, and then I went and got him again, and he didn’t run away, I can tell you that”

“Wow,” she says with renewed interest. The thoughts in her head are undecipherable but too hot to handle. “...wait, so you told him about the tattoos already?”

“No, I turned off the lights, ok?” you interject quickly before Ortega can answer that.” … and can we… please not talk about it like that?” ” you plead wondering if this is the moment you die.

“What do you mea… oh shit, am I making you feel uncomfortable?” he says, now with true concern.

“YES. VERY!”

“I didn’t mean to… I’m not bottom shaming you or anything…”

“There’s nothing wrong with bottoming Cyrus” Argent adds quickly. Oh, she’s now picturing, with a vivid imagination. That’s just great… just what you needed...

“I know, but… I just don’t like people speaking about me like... that,” you say, realizing too late that you’re being too honest.

Argent gives you a puzzled look, Ortega’s expression shifting as he realizes what you meant.

“Hey! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything like that Cyrus, you know that right?”

“... yes,” you let out. “Yes, I do,” you add, to his relief. “This is just… all new to me. Talking about… sex.”

“Well I’ll be more careful from now on” he states looking directly into your eyes, Argent’s mind’s catching up, realizing there’s a story to be told there. She will ask later. Perhaps you’ll answer when she does.

“It’s just … It was so great. And I couldn’t tell anyone up to this moment.?” he says looking at Argent. “Do you know how many years I had been waiting for that? Back then I almost had to break my back again just to get your name. And then you died… and you came back… and you finally agreed to come to my place and It happened… and It … It was everything”

“You can’t mean that,” you say looking away. “You’ve slept with plenty of people better than me”

“That’s not true Cyrus. I only really loved you”

This is too much… you can’t deal with this shit… you flee into Argent’s thoughts but Ortega’s words have turned them so soft that you feel like you’re sliding down a cascade of melted butter, her sharks falling freely not knowing what the fuck’s going on.

Shit. Abort, abort!

You return swiftly, back to the space behind your eyes, having to deal with your stupid emotions. This is so unfair...

“Ooooohhhh you two are in love? That’s so sweet” Argent says with a voice so soft and tiny that it can’t possibly belong to her. No. It definitely belongs to some girl 10 years younger that’s reading a romance book in secret with a flashlight under her bed’s covers… wait... was that a memory of hers?!

Ortega doesn’t answer, he just smiles, knowing he’s pulled your strings far beyond the snapping point by now. He’s been winning these small battles for years and now he’s won the war.

You want to punch him… kiss him… flee…

But Argent decides for you, kissing him instead before you can say anything else… and then she literally leaves you speechless, with a long kiss on your lips.

“You know… I do have… a … bedroom too… ” you say, almost breathless, as she finally parts.

_______________some time later____________________

“Must say I wasn’t even sure you owned a bed,” Ortega says, his hand softly rubbing Argent’s silver fingers above you, as you lay in between them.

“This is the coziest sewer lair I’ve ever been invited too” Argent adds.

“Subway lair” you correct her absently still trying to process what just happened. What you all just did… And the way they didn’t judge you when you cried…

And now you’re just here, having this calm chat while they roast you about your terrible lair. You could probably get used to this. Probably.

“You know, I would like to be able to do this, the way it’s supposed to be felt” Argent comments. “If only SOMEONE would finally complete that regenerator…That would be so great”

“Is this your strategy to get me to work harder? Sex as a weapon?” you ask, being more calm and smooth about it than you ever thought you could be.

“Well, I tried claws so I figured I could go for something new for a change. Is it working?”

“So very much” you confess with a broken voice, kissing their joined hands. “I’ll get it done… and… I just want to add… I fucking love you two” you let out, the final barriers being swept away, leaving you deep into the uncharted, very dangerous territory of openness about feelings, emotions, and all that awful stuff.

_______________________________________

My fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Rydén. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

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ayma-nidiot · 4 years

Text

In the White Light - Prideshipping fic Chapter 11

Also on AO3.

Author’s note: This is the last chapter of the Scandalshipping arc. I promise that the next chapter will have... plenty of Prideshipping. Tee hee. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Chapter 11 – A Force I Can’t Run From

~One year later~

“Father…” Atem ran as fast as he could from the zombies that attacked, with Isis and Mahad by his side. Karim and Shada had ran ahead to fend off the enemies at the palace entrance.

“Begone, you beasts!” Mahad hurled a barrage of dark magic balls at the foes, barely keeping them at bay. “There, Your Highness! The throne room!”

“Oh…” Atem had arrived too late and found his father dead on the floor. He ran up to his body and cradled Aknamkanon’s head. “Father… Oh gods, if only I had arrived a few minutes earlier… Father!”

“Atem…” Mahad wanted to grieve for his king, too, despite the dire situation the palace was in now.

“Your Highness… No, Your Majesty…” Isis spoke through tears. “I want to grieve for the pharaoh too, but we need to clear the palace of enemies.”

“…Wait!” Atem began to panic when he noticed his boyfriend was missing. “Where’s Seto?”

“I’m afraid that not long before the attack, he suddenly insisted he had something to take care of and ran off,” Mahad replied. “Considering the circumstances, he’s probably already…”

Atem refused to accept this answer, took the Millennium Pendant from his father’s corpse, and started running. “No. I will go look for him and prove that you’re wrong!”

“But Your Majesty… To abandon the palace at a time like this…”

“I also intend to look for where the enemies are coming from. That way, I can stop these attacks for good!”

“Then… Then we’re coming with you!” Isis insisted. “I believe in our soldiers… In Shada and Karim… They are more than capable of defending the palace.”

“Don’t expect this to be an easy mission, you two. If you’re prepared to face our true enemy, then let us make haste!”

So were Atem’s last words before he, Isis, Mahad, and a few lesser soldiers fled the palace. He searched every sarcophagus, every common house, hoping that he would find some kind of hint.

Just as he was ready to take a break in the village he was in, an elderly woman walked up to him. “Your Majesty? It’s unusual to see you out of the palace.”

“Oh!” Atem had intended to hide his identity and was upset that he had failed.

“I implore you, Your Majesty, flee for your safety!” The elderly woman cautioned as she pointed at shadows flying about in the sky, and a dark hoard of enemies coming their way. “No village is safe anymore from the army of Anubis…”

“Anubis… So, that’s who out enemy is!” Mahad exclaimed. “I figured as much! Atem, he’s the sorcerer who’s infamous for performing human experiments!”

Atem immediately started running, following the source of said shadows. Just as he had the notion to rush on in, he cautioned his retainers, “Okay, here’s the plan. As soon as we open this door, I will start singing the Incantation. Then, when Anubis is vulnerable, the both of you will strike!”

Mahad bit his lip, scared of the fate that could befall his king. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Atem opened the door as silently as he could, and his voice slowly began to crescendo as he walked in. “Usabon o et e irakih, igurust on ig ikaneragek…”

“No!” A voice howled as the zombies in the chamber dissipated into light. “No! It can’t be! The pharaoh is here! That bastard… Aknadin has betrayed me!”

“Imorodom… Etirikihcat… o iomo…” Atem couldn’t finish the rest of the incantation, and fell to the floor, barely conscious. “Anubis! You will pay for the death of my father… and for the suffering you’ve caused my people!”

Mahad and Isis rushed over to Anubis, encasing him in a binding magic circle. “Any last words, scum?”

“Hahaha…” Anubis showed no shame, even in his final minutes. “Young pharaoh, the worst has yet to come!”

Disgusted at this choice of words, Mahad let his Millennium Ring grow brighter, unleashing a dark magic that consumed Anubis’ body and soul. “Hah! The fool wastes his last words on insults!”

“It’s not just insults, Mahad,” Isis spoke up. “He said something about ‘Aknadin betraying him.’ If Aknadin really is an accomplice of Anubis, then we need to find Aknadin and execute him as a traitor to the throne.”

“Agreed.” Mahad had the notion to leave until he noticed Atem crawling into a dark corner of the chamber. “Your Majesty?”

Ignoring his retainer, Atem couldn’t be happier to see the tired, beat-up Seto. “Oh my gods… Seto… Thank Ra that you’re okay!”

“Atem…” Though he had only been gone for a few hours, Seto kissed the pharaoh as if they’ve been apart for weeks. “It… It was horrible… I was searching for my father, then next thing I know, he and Anubis decide to torture me. After all that… only the sight of you could refresh me again.”

“Seto, I’m sorry to hear that.” Mahad helped his fellow High Priest off the ground. “Now come. After you’ve rested, we’ve much to discuss.”

Over the next several months, it was decided that Anubis’ last words were correct. Even though the commander of the zombies had perished, the zombies themselves did not stop terrorizing the villages and the palace. Despite the pharaoh’s protests, Seto took several solo missions, determined to find out who could possibly be stronger than Anubis. Coming back from such a mission with a bloodied-up back and right arm, he tried to sneak to a medical ward. “Oh, good, Atem isn’t-”

Unfortunately for the High Priest, the pharaoh couldn’t be so easily fooled. “I’m not what?”

“Um… Nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure a mangled arm and back aren’t nothing!” Atem rushed for the alcohol and began to apply it immediately to Seto’s wounds.

“Ngh…” Seto cringed slightly at the sting.

“Please stop looking for the enemy by yourself!” Atem protested. “At least take another priest with you!”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I cannot do that.”

“But why not?”

Seto said nothing, but only looked at his feet in shame.

“I believe I’m owed at least some explanation.”

“But I can’t tell you!”

Atem almost hit the priest, frustrated at his aloofness. “For the love of the gods, Seto, you’re my boyfriend! Why do you feel the need to keep secrets from me?”

“Please… Please, don’t make me say anymore… There’s just one secret I can’t tell you.”

Atem took another look into Seto’s eyes and saw the hurt this secret caused. Deciding to drop the subject, he said, “I’m sorry, Seto… I’m sorry for pushing you this far.”

“…” Seto let a few seconds of silence pass before saying, “I will tell you one thing, though. I’ve finally learned the name of our true enemy today.”

“Really? Whom?”

“My solo mission today took me to a village called Kul Elna. The zombie soldiers I fought there claim their master as the Dark One Zorc.”

“I… see. And you intend to go out there right away to look for the Dark One, do you not?”

“Of course I do.” Seto got up, and despite having been injured, felt well enough to go back to the fray. “If I don’t find that enemy, all of Egypt will be in peril!”

“No…” Atem yanked on Seto’s robes. “Please… Stay here… Stay here and rest with me.”

“Atem…” Seto didn’t try to resist the pharaoh and sat back down. Pulled in by the longing look in Atem’s eyes, the High Priest stroked Atem’s bare back.

“Comfort me…” Atem begged, holding Seto as close as he could.

Not another word was said as Seto crept a hand up Atem’s thigh, and the pharaoh left himself entirely in his High Priest’s hands.

This moment of intimacy wouldn’t last for much longer as the Dark One himself plotted his next move. For many millennia, he wanted to destroy the royal family and take Egypt under his rule of darkness. And now, thanks to a recent report from his henchmen, he would finally have that chance.

“Milord!” A Dragon Zombie came crawling in to Zorc’s lair. “I bring you good news! We have found the Pharaoh Atem’s palace! He is there right now, and I don’t see that… monster anywhere.”

“Oh?” Zorc stared at his servant, amused. “So Aknamkanon is dead at last, hm? Then all I need to do is kill his last immediate heir, and nobody shall stand in my way!”

“But Your Evilness, Atem wields the Pharaoh’s Incantation. As you know, its power is so strong it could kill us all, including you. And don’t forget the High Priest Seto, wielder of the Millennium Rod.”

“Hah! He couldn’t even sing two lines of the Incantation before passing out before Anubis! Do you really think that such a naïve ruler could defeat me? I don’t fear him or his High Priests!” Zorc arose from his throne, taking heavy steps forward. He summoned a dark spirit to his side and began speaking to him. “Are you ready to exact your revenge on the pharaoh?”

“Yes, milord.” The spirit knelt before his master. “And I thank you for the opportunity to do so. Give me the order, and I will carry it out without question.”

“I want you and some of my humble servants to go to the palace. Lure Pharaoh Atem to your chamber and give me the pleasure of killing him there.”

“Your wish is my command, milord.” So spoke this spirit as he let the minions of Zorc lead the way to the couple who remained blissfully unaware of their coming.

Atem felt no need to leave the medical ward that night, thankful that by this point, most of his guards and retainers accepted his relationship with Seto. Instead, he rested peacefully in the aftermath of lovemaking, letting Seto’s breathing lull him to sleep. “Seto…”

“Yes?” Seto had barely remained awake himself.

“After tonight… Please, no more solo missions, I beg of you. At least let me come along.”

“…Okay. At least you’ll be easier to protect if you’re right there.”

“And in doing so, you won’t do anything rash. Promise me!” Atem’s hands shook under the linen sheets.

Seto hoped his next words wouldn’t exude his reluctance. “I promise. Because where would you be without me, right?”

It was just then that a sudden phantasmic voice cut the pleasantries short. “Pharaoh… Pharaoh Atem…”

All of Atem’s tiredness was gone in that instant. “Ghost! Show yourself!”

“With pleasure!” The source of the voice made his presence – his familiar presence – known.

“Anubis!” Seto roared. “So, you’ve come back from the dead just to haunt the pharaoh, huh?”

“You would be correct in your guess… sort of. I’ve just come to tell you that the Dark One himself awaits you in my old chamber.” Anubis abruptly departed with a cackle.

“…Well, you heard him,” said Atem as he began getting dressed. “If we go, we can finally put an end to this war!”

“It’s a trap! Why would you trust anything that vile cur says?” Seto dressed himself quickly too.

Atem continued to speak as he donned his jewelry and the Pendant. “I’ve got you, I’ve got the other priests, and I’ve got the power of my song. Why not have a little more faith in us?”

“My apologies.” Seto put his headdress on and, being more familiar with Anubis’ chamber, he led the way.

Atem had noticed his High Priest gradually becoming more nervous on the way there. “Seto… Maybe we should turn back and at least call for the other High Priests. A battle of this magnitude requires it.”

“No. I promised I would protect you, and we certainly won’t turn back now,” Seto declared as the two of them entered Anubis’ chamber. “And you won’t need to use the Incantation, either. …Blast, he’s not here!”

“Huh? Are you saying that you plan to take on the Dark One all by yourself?”

“…” Seto said nothing as he heard commotion outside the deep, dark chamber. Knowing full well who awaited him out there, he closed his eyes. I have to thank you for choosing to battle outside, Zorc.

“Seto? Seto, say something!”

Seto only began to talk when he turned for the door. “Atem… Just in case I don’t make it out of this battle alive, I want you to know that I love you very much and will take that love with me before Osiris.”

“Seto?” Atem became terrified of Seto’s words and ran after him. But before he could, the High Priest had already shut the door and locked it from the outside with the Millennium Rod. “Seto, what are you talking about? Open this door, dammit! Seeeeetoooo!”

His chest seared with a pain that grew every minute, every hour, that Seto was gone. Atem tried as best as he could to barge the door open, but he wasn’t the most muscular person at the palace. Every push on that door sapped his muscles’ strength and whatever little faith he had left in himself. “Seto… Oh, gods… Please…” he cried, sitting hopelessly at the door as a headache came on. All he could do in that moment was pray to the gods that he would soon be released from the chamber – and that Seto would be the one left standing after the battle. “Seto… I promise it, too… I will not ever renounce my love for you, even in the afterlife.”

Though Atem felt the urge to sleep, he fought to stay awake until that door opened. When it finally did, he spoke with a raspy glee, “Seto! You’re okay-”

To his surprise, his “rescuer” turned out to be Mahad. “…Your Majesty.”

“Oh, Mahad. Isis. When did you get here?”

“I awoke not two hours ago after I heard tumult from outside the palace,” replied Isis. “The monsters led me here, then all of a sudden, they vanished without a fight. We’ve surveyed the area, too. There are no more monsters, and Zorc appears to be dead, too.”

“Then… Then that means Seto is okay, right?”

“…” Mahad turned away to hide the shameful look in his face.

“Mahad?”

“I think you better come with me. There��s… something you need to see.” Mahad helped Atem to stand, and with wobbly legs the pharaoh followed him outside.

Atem didn’t like that Isis cried on the entire walk outside. “What is going on? What happened?”

“That.” Mahad pointed a shaking finger at a body lying in the sand dunes. “That’s what happened.”

The panic began to set in when Atem noticed a flicker of gold and blue. “Oh no… Seto!” Atem ran up to the body to confirm that his deepest fear had come true: Seto had died in the battle against Zorc. “Seto! Seto, no!”

“Atem…” Mahad had never cried in front of anyone until now. “Forgive me… I have failed Pharaoh Aknamkanon, and now Seto… I should have been awake when I needed to be, and then Seto would still be with us.”

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!” Atem wailed to the sky, holding onto Seto’s cold hand desperately, as if trying to restore life into it. “Seto… Seto, you promised… You wouldn’t do anything rash… Oh, my love…”

“Your Majesty, we can mourn him back at the palace,” Isis spoke after she had stopped crying. “After several hours of trying to escape that chamber, I’m sure you’re both tired and hungry.”

“…” As Mahad picked Seto’s corpse off the ground, Atem got up and walked silently. He would remain as such for the entire journey back to the palace. He would remain as such for the entire following day, refusing any food, drink, or human interaction. His retainers pestered him so much that he found it harder and harder to refuse their requests but managed to do it anyway.

Finally, after an entire week of this behaviour, Mahad decided he didn’t need a council meeting or anything. He felt that he was the only one who could talk Atem out of this slump of his and resolved to have a heart-to-heart with him that day, come hell or high water. Marching into his room, he declared, “Your Majesty! We are going to… have a… talk?”

“Mahad?” Shada had come in to the room, too, in an attempt to speak with the pharaoh. “What is it?”

“The pharaoh isn’t in his room!”

“What?” Isis and Karim came onto the scene as well. “Then where?”

“Let’s try the throne room!” Mahad suggested as he led the other High Priests there. Unfortunately for him, he would find no pharaoh there, but instead a glowing light coming out of the Millennium Pendant. “Oh… Oh, no… I think I know what happened.”

“Mahad?” Isis looked at the Pendant with concern.

“He’s trapped himself in an alternate dimension, which means he may not come back.”

“But he still might, won’t he?”

“Who knows… All we can do is pray.”

As much as the priests and all of Egypt prayed for him to come back, none of them could save Atem from what he was about to do. “Seto… My love, wait for me… I’m coming soon…”

Knowing that his time was at an end, he continued to sing the Incantation as his soul slowly left his body until nothing was left.

#yugioh #ygo #prideshipping #scandalshipping #kaiba x yami yugi #kaiba x atem

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cuthie · 4 years

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Lautner: Dear Prudence

“Dear Prudence. The Sun is up, the sky is blue. It’s beautiful, and so are you.” The words were whispered in song from the lips of an injured human boy with long black hair and blue eyes. ‘Boy’ would be what came to the mind of the Kaldorei man who knelt beside him, covered in mud, blood and torn leather armor. He had found him injured, lying next to a mossy boulder with a head wound, and had taken the kid into a small hollow in the ridge separating Darkshore from Felwood. Joral gave the human another once-over before returning his attention from the gash he had just closed to the arrow sticking in the singing patient’s side. He was never good at telling human ages, and this one in particular could have been anywhere between fifteen and thirty. He had a lean athletic build, but it was in the kid’s face that youth and experience waged war. His piercing blue eyes reminded the elf of an old soul, but when the boy smiled, as he did during song, his expression made him look at least ten years younger.

Joral spoke as he acted, bedside manner only briefly coming to the forefront of his thoughts, “This is going to sting, but the pain will ease.”

The boy flinched at the touch, eyes dreary and staring at the cavern wall. He continued to sing quietly, but the sound of the war outside boomed and echoed, the chorus of explosions drowning out the lyrics. “Stay with me-” was the last thing he heard before his eyelids, now bearing too much weight, blacked out the rest of the world. --

“Stay inside Laut!” It was his sister’s voice. Only a year separated the two, but she always seemed much older. The thunder from the storm was louder than usual, the entire gilnean library quaking in its reverberance. As she braved the storm, Lautner felt a tinge of guilt as he watched from the window. Here he was fourteen, quivering fearfully from the howling they had heard. Really though, what could he possibly do? He was a scrawny wimpy near sighted boy who couldn’t even hold up his father’s sword without his arms shaking. Prue had just ran out with such confidence, as she always had, and the only thing he could think to do was push up his glasses and focus on the book he had been reading earlier that day. It was a fictional tale of a gilnean man finding himself in a dragon’s den. There were fair maidens, not-so-fair prostitutes at the inn, mead in the taverns and treasures in the lair. A fixture of it’s genre, really. As Lautner found himself rereading the same paragraph with each round of thunder, his mind imagined not this flaky protagonist, but instead his sister Prudence leading the charge.

Pain struck at his side, and with a grimace he looked down to find himself bleeding. But bleeding from what? He stepped forward, heading towards the small kitchenette, when he heard Prue’s cry, which itself was drowned out by the roar of the wolf. When had they entered the library? “Laut, look out!” It was too late. The beast had already dug its claws into him, pinning him down. Thick syrupy slobber dripped from what had to be fifty teeth too many, each long, yellowed and sharp. The Worgen that had pinned him howled in pain as the riffle sounded off. “Run!” Prue had loaded another shot before the ferocious monster could turn on her. Funny how the thunder from outside was so loud, ringing in his ears, but Prue’s shots were almost soundless. There was no time for such curiosities. He had to get to safety. Ashamed at the tears in his eyes and the panic in his chest, he drug himself to the closet, where he would eventually fade away to the roar of both beast and storm. -- They had a cure. Not a temporary retrieval of sanity, but a Light willing full fledged cure. Lautner breathed in the earthy scent beneath the tree as he watched his fellow cursed countrymen take part in the ritual of these strange beautiful elven creatures. His sense of smell, like all his other senses, had grown tenfold in strength. He no longer needed glasses to aid his farsightedness, and his physical strength and speed rivaled that of fictional heroes from stories that never felt forever away. He was a beast, ferocious and capable, or at least he was on the outside. Inside he was still the timid scrawny thing he had been before the bite. Time passed and the ritual took effect. Consciously he suppressed his worgen nature, revealing a toned and handsome physique beneath the fur and fangs. Looking at the reflective pools of water, it was like he was looking upon a stranger. Even after obtaining his sanity, his sense of self even, he had looked at his form as a curse. He was powerful, albeit afflicted. Staring at his ‘human’ self, he could only see improvement. He was a hundred times better than the boy he used to be. The dark skin of his fingertips slowly traced the swell in his chest, his arms, and for the fel of it, even his backside. He grinned, speaking aloud for perhaps the first time that day, “Firm, like mutton.” An older woman had turned, almost startled by his words despite how quiet they actually were, then rolled her eyes at the display of a worgen boy groping his own buttocks. As he continued to admire himself his focus drifted back toward the King. He was right. The Forsaken were here for conquest, but the Worgen were entirely capable of using this curse.. No, this Gift, to fight them back. And as amazing and heroic as he looked on the outside, the thought of having to face the living dead sent a shiver down his spine. Repulsion, horror and tragedy awaited him, he could feel it, but beneath that was a boiling rage. His family was gone. His mother and father to the feral worgen, his sister to the invasion of the Forsaken. He had no one to look out for him, nor anyone to protect. Regardless, he could feel his anger rising like a weight in the pit of his stomach, reaching out and swelling his chest, his shoulders and arms. He unclenched his jaw, exhaled and allowed the Gift to take over once again as everything turned to black. --

Rage was never enough. Lautner had barely even held a sword before, let alone use one in combat. In his worgen form, he was capable of carrying two massive weapons, one in each hand, and swing them with enough force to cleave any Forsaken in half. However, he lacked the technique that would allow him to fully utilize his enhancements. So it was that the boy had found himself utterly defeated, packed tight in a night elf sea vessel, leaving the only home he ever knew. How sure of himself he had been. His mother’s library had filled his dreamer’s imagination with tales of heroism and good prevailing over evil. Might and right, retribution of the Light. He had managed to take out three Forsaken. He was proud of that fact. The old him would have certainly cowered and died. Still, three in the grand scheme of things was pitiful. Eventually the sea churned and rocked, lulling him into a much needed rest. -- “Wake up, son. You need to wake up.” Lautner didn’t recognize the voice. He couldn’t even so much as pin it’s point of origin. He continued running through the woodlands of Teldrassil, his home for the last five or six years. Reading had been replaced by running and hunting. The Kaldorei had given the Worgen their own hunting grounds long before the Alliance had even accepted them back into the fold. Laut didn’t care to visit the human cities, though. He wasn’t arrogant enough to consider himself better than anyone else, but he had settled into a life of freedom. The polar opposite of outdoorsy in his youth, he would have never expected to see this route in his life. He wouldn’t change it for anything. Well, almost anything. He was a capable combatant in its most basic sense. He had assisted the kaldorei and worgen in various missions pertaining to their home such as culling dangers or tracking criminals. For the most part, though, he maintained a civilian life. Pandaria, Orgrimmar, the Dark Portal and even the Broken Isles did not entice him. There were always better more efficient people for the task. Soldiers. Besides, someone had to stay home. As dire as things had become, if everyone capable of wielding a weapon were to abandon the city in hopes of bolstering the army, then it would collapse. Teldrassil needed him there. That’s what he had told himself over and over again. If his mind became too muddied with guilt or shame, he would just run it off. He knew every tree and every rock along his paths. He had two dozen ‘favorite’ locations to visit with a pack filled with books usually tied around the back of his waist, ready to be dove into.

But this wasn’t a far off war. The Horde were marching upon them. Sylvanas and her undead legion were again invading his home. He hadn’t been too Darkshore too frequently, but it was an extension of the kaldorei and thus ‘his’ people. Still, he wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t trained. He couldn’t possibly expect to sail from Rut’theran Village to Darkshore, joining up randomly with any Alliance platoon and simply fall in line. He would get someone killed. They would count on him and he would fail, or they would fall trying to protect him. He found himself singing her name again, “Dear Prudence…” What would she do? Stay in Teldrassil, convincing herself that she was protecting civilians and children by doing such? No, she would see herself as a child for staying. Those with power are obligated to use their strengths for the greater good. That is what a good person would do. That is what Prue would do. --- “Wake up.” Lautner blinked awake, looking up at a stranger. A kaldorei man who was wrapping linen bandages around his head. “You’ll be okay, but you need to stay awake.” The ground vibrated beneath the two of them as more explosives sounded off in the distance. Dirt fell from the cave’s ceiling, sounding like an amplified rush of sand in an hourglass. Lautner strained to raise up, feeling a great pain in his side that forced him back down. “Don’t sit up, not yet. The druidess’ mending hasn’t set just yet. We need to give it time.” Druidess? Lautner looked around, seeing no one but the man beside him in their little hideaway hole. “Where’s Prudence?” His voice sounded weak, even to himself. “Who?” The Gilnean shook his head lightly, “Sorry, nevermind.”

#Lauter #WRA RP #wrarp #worgen

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paladin-andric · 6 years

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Tragedy Breeds Bias

Tourthun lay on the dirt floor of his lair, head slumped as he stared at the ground.

How could things have gone so wrong?

In a single childhood, the young dragon had lost his mother, his father, and his home...but the hardships didn’t end there.

A starving, helpless child, Tourthun made a gamble and approached a human settlement, begging for help.

It paid off. The humans gave him food, shelter, and most importantly, companionship. They lived alongside him as he matured, teaching him how to scavenge and live on his own.

Thank goodness his father extolled the humans’ virtues before he passed on. Tourthun might have been too scared to reach out otherwise.

He never did start hunting wildlife, as most dragons did. No, it hurt him to imagine harming those small, helpless creatures, trying to flee from a bigger, stronger beast...

They reminded him of himself.

Just as he became an adult, the Exile happened. All non-humans were rounded up and quarantined in a single city...and the kingdom was powerful enough to enforce it on ALL non-humans...even dragons.

While Tourthun might have been pleased by that, two things infuriated him. First, the small ones were not exempt. The lizard people, the wolfmen, those kindly birdfolk, all were dragged along too.

Secondly, while they DID exile dragonkind...that included Tourthun.

The townspeople gathered in a mob, ready to oppose the king’s edict, swearing to stand alongside their friend Tourthun.

When the army marched on the town, Tourthun saw what was about to happen, and surrendered before the attack could happen.

He may have wanted to oppose it, but he wouldn’t let an entire town get butchered for his sake.

He tearfully went along with it. Being put in massive, magically warded chains, and being mocked and jeered at by soldiers was humiliating for him. What cut deeper however, was being removed from the town of Havel. All his new friends, the dear, kindly people who saved him in his weakest moments...he was separated from them.

He had lost two homes and two families in little over a decade.

He scraped at the dirt mechanically, mind preoccupied with his anger. This lousy cave...this lousy mountain...it was foreign. Alien. He just wanted to go home.

He just wanted his family back.

“Excuse me.”

Tourthun’s head shot up at the sudden voice. Who had snuck in? How hadn’t he heard them coming?! Perhaps he was too deeply lost in his thoughts...

Before him stood another dragon. He had green scales and blue eyes.

Blue...blue eyes...something about them, it...stirred up emotions in Tourthun.

Fearful, hateful emotions.

He quickly rose to his feet, baring his teeth at the other dragon. “Leave my home at once!” he roared, crouched low.

The other dragon’s eyes widened. He looked genuinely taken aback by Tourthun’s aggression.

“Easy, my friend! I am not here to challenge you.”

“I am not your friend.”

Tourthun stood his ground, still lowered and ready to pounce.

“I have come peacefully, noble one! I do not intend to cause trouble...I was hoping to speak with you. In good faith.”

Tourthun didn’t trust him. Not one bit.

“What do you want? Outsiders are not welcome in my home!”

“Well,“ the other dragon started, nervous, “I was hoping we could be...friends.”

Tourthun’s brow raised, gazing at the other beast in suspicion. “Friends?”

“That is correct.”

Although taken aback, the red dragon quickly recovered, still defensive. “And why would I want to be friends with you?”

“I was forced here during the exile, just like you! My family and I have taken up residence in some underground caves, just below the park in the city! Being with my family is good and all, but...I was hoping to make some friends. I heard another one of our kind was here, up in the mountain, and so I came! My name is Basilrin, what is yours?”

“Tourthun,” the red dragon spat, “and I do not share your convictions. Leave me.”

The green dragon’s face dropped, his voice raising in pitch. “What?! Why? Did I do something wrong? Have I offended you in some way?”

Sudden, violent flashes of imagery assaulted Tourthun’s mind.

A green dragon, laying over his father’s lifeless corpse, muzzle covered in the blood of his beloved father. A cruel, twisted grin on his face.

The face of his father’s murderer.

“Indeed,” Tourthun answered, “You showed your face to me.”

Basilrin reeled back in shock. “What?! B-but...I just wanted to be friends with you...”

“Lies,” Tourthun said, “Your words ring hollow. You could never desire anything more than my downfall.”

“That is not true!” Basilrin insisted, “I covet nothing but your approval!”

Tourthun snarled at the invader. “Your kind are all the same. A false smile, a twisted purpose...and finally, merciless killing when you hold the advantage.“

The other dragon winced. “Y-your words are venomous, good Tourthun...we are not all the same...just because my scales are green, does not make me treacherous!”

“Your scales?” Tourthun’s cold visage broke, if only for a moment. He laughed. “You think I care about your coloring?! No, I meant ALL of your kind!”

“All...?” Basilrin squinted. “You mean...both of our kind? Dragonkind?”

“I am nothing like the rest of you!” the young dragon barked, “I have seen the cruelty of your foul ilk firsthand. Murderers of my family! Betrayers! It is YOUR fault father is gone! It is YOUR fault he never got to watch me grow! I will never forgive you!”

Basilrin looked shaken by the red dragon’s words. “I...I had no idea. I am so very sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine how much pain you must have felt.”

“Do not hide behind false apologies!” Tourthun roared, “You are just like him! Like all of them! Your kind is a race of murderous butchers!”

“I have never harmed a soul in my life, friend...my father taught me to respect life.”

Tourthun snorted. “I refuse to believe it. Every time a dragon came, a parent died, murdered by them. You must be plotting something, oh yes...”

“You ran across two wicked ones...and you base your assumptions of us all on them?”

“Why not?” Tourthun said with an icy glare, “After all...I have yet to meet one that is not a villain.”

“You hurt me, noble one...I feel such heartache for your woes, and yet you lump me in with those killers! What have I done to deserve this suspicion?”

“You are a dragon,” Tourthun stated, “It is in your blood.”

Basilrin shook his head. Just as Tourthun was ready to go off on him some more, he looked back up at the red dragon.

“...what about your mother and father?”

Tourthun stiffened up. “W-what about them?”

“They were good, they were kind...correct?”

His eyes closed to a sliver, the dragon hurting as he recalled his life with father. “Yes...and they were slain for it. By YOU beasts. For the crime of not being merciless enough. For the crime of wanting to live in peace. For living wrong.”

Basilrin moved forward. “Tourthun, that is plenty proof! They were kind, just like you say were aren’t! There is your meeting with one that is not villainous!”

“W-we...are the exception,” Tourthun retorted, “Nothing more.”

Although he was trying to look unaffected, those words clearly did throw him for a loop. Tourthun had stuttered and hesitated. He looked uncomfortable now.

“They must have been raised by kindly dragons as well. Kindness and cruelty are often a result of upbringing. You must have had such a wonderful father, and such a strong heart to hold onto your morals despite the hardship. Is that not further proof? There are even more good ones out there! You just have had horrid luck and a cruel twist of fate!” Basilrin insisted, “Surely you should at least attempt to see if we are ALL evil before making assumptions...correct? A-and if you look at the numbers...there’s two good dragons, your parents, and two evil ones, the killers...not a vast minority at all! Our kind can be good!”

Tourthun quivered, teachings and experiences clashing with this new approach to thought. He shook and recoiled from the green dragon.

“I...I...”

Misty-eyed, he turned away from the other dragon in shame and doubt.

“Leave me...”

“Tourthun...?”

“Please. I do not wish to continue this. Please, leave. I...”

He turned his head back, pain-filled eyes gazing over his shoulder.

“I just want to be left alone.”

Basilrin, though hurting, nodded. “O-of course. I will respect your wishes. I shall take my leave.”

With a heavy sigh, the dragon turned and slowly padded towards the cave exit. He took one final look over his shoulder as he left.

“Oh, and...Tourthun?”

There was a brief pause.

“...yes?”

“Just...at least give it some thought, yes? My family and I are in the caves in the city. If you ever stop by, I would be happy to offer any help you needed. Any at all. Is that alright?”

Tourthun scraped at the dirt once more, neck craned downward.

“...I may consider it.”

With that, Basilrin took off, launching himself out of the cave, and back to his family.

His family.

HE had one, probably because he was protected by a big, powerful family...the balance of power, their numbers and strength, that was all that dragons respected, what kept them safe from one another.

Dragons...dragons! They were evil, they were cruel...they were liars and murderers, devoid of conscience! Every last one of them! ALL of them!

...right?

Some more backstory about Tourthun. Here, in his weakest moments, his fears and pain threaten his soft-hearted attitude. The stranger’s words ring in his mind, however...perhaps he was wrong.

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @the-true-shadowmaster, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner, @laurenwastestimewriting

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shayerahol · 6 years

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@ciscoscaitlin has inspired me to try my hand at evil killervibe. Part 1/?

(Part 2)

Caitlin smoothed her pajamas and looked in the mirror to perfect her unnecessary makeup. She wiped a smudge from under her eye. She didn’t know why she went to all this trouble for movie night. It was just Cisco. He’d seen her look much worse. After Ronnie died she’d had neither the energy nor the willpower to maintain her appearance. At all. And, yet, here she was anxiously correcting her eye shadow. Cisco would be there any minute. In fact, he was already a few minutes late, Caitlin noticed. It wasn’t uncommon for him; he probably just stopped for snacks on the way over.

There was a knock at the door. See? Nothing to worry about. Caitlin hurried to the door to let him in. She didn’t bother using the peephole. She opened the door. Cisco wasn’t on the other side. Instead, Caitlin found herself face to face with Amunet Black.

“What are you doing here?” The words came out bluntly. Caitlin could hardly believe what she was seeing.

“I’m here to see my favorite henchman.” Amunet moved past Caitlin into the apartment. “Do you mind?” She was waiting for Caitlin to change. Usually the sight of Amunet would be enough to trigger it, but Caitlin was still there. A beat passed, and Amunet moved in toward Caitlin, backing her into a corner. “You see, I need a favor, and if I don’t get it, things won’t end well for your friend Cisco. I ran into him on the way here. Maybe I’ll gut him anyway. It’d be a shame for you. First your Ronnie, and now him... It would be the perfect payback for that last stunt you pulled.”

Caitlin closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. She couldn’t lose Cisco. He was all that kept her going after Ronnie’s death, after Zoom, after she got her powers. Without him she’d be lost. He was her best friend.

“That’s right. Be a good girl and bring me Frost.”

Before she knew what she was doing, Caitlin grabbed Amunet’s neck and slammed her head into the adjacent wall. Hard enough to cause a concussion, she hoped. Amunet hadn’t expected a fight from the usually meek Caitlin Snow. Killer Frost, maybe, but not when she had a hostage. She hadn’t brought much in the way of ammunition. Still, Caitlin knew she’d be in trouble if Amunet was able to regain her concentration. She dug her fingers into Amunet’s neck doing her best to cut off airflow. As a doctor, Caitlin knew strangulation wasn’t the quickest way to incapacitate an enemy, but she’d be damned if it wasn’t satisfying. For once Caitlin was the one with the power.

Amunet wasn’t giving up easily. She thrashed in Caitlin’s grip, and gathered all of the metal on her person. It floated shakily, the lack of oxygen was wearing on her. Fighting for her life, she launched it at Caitlin. It tore through Caitlin’s pajamas and through the flesh in her side. But it wasn’t enough to save Amunet. Caitlin held her still with a strength she didn’t know she had. Only Killer Frost had ever been this strong.

“How does it feel to have no control?” She didn’t expect a response. She didn’t need one. That was how she had felt ever since the particle accelerator exploded. She couldn’t save Ronnie. She couldn’t save herself from Zoom. She couldn’t control her own fucking powers. And, to top it off, she had to play henchman to a street criminal just to stay in control of her own head. She was done. Caitlin slammed Amunet’s head into the wall again, enjoying the rush of adrenaline. The rush of control. Amunet blacked out. She was incapacitated. Caitlin should stop. She should, but she didn’t want to. Caitlin wanted to take something from her. She wanted to inflict pain. God knew she had enough bottled up inside of her.

And she never wanted Amunet to be able to touch Cisco ever again. He was in danger because of Caitlin’s mistakes. She was as angry at herself as she was Amunet. This time she wasn’t going to keep that anger inside of her. It surged through her as hands tightened on Amunet’s neck. Her fingernails broke the skin. Blood trickled onto Caitlin’s finger’s. She savored the warmth. Amunet’s neck bruised as Caitlin burst blood vessels. Her breathing became more and more labored before ceasing all together. Caitlin had killed her...and she’d liked it. It looked like the mantle of Killer Frost really did suit her.

Caitlin let Amunet’s body hit the floor. She was still angry, but it was good start. She gave the body a forceful kick.

“Never start a fight you can’t finish.” Amunet could have threatened Caitlin all she wanted, but she should have known better than to stand between her and Cisco.

Caitlin still had to find Cisco. She wasn’t dressed for it. She was still wearing pajamas. Torn ones at that. She looked at the tear. It was coated in blood, but the wound underneath had healed. For the first time, Caitlin noticed that her hair had turned white at some point during her altercation with Amunet. She had changed. But she hadn’t changed. For once Caitlin was in control of her powers instead of her powers controlling her. It felt good. She chilled Amunet’s body and stuffed it in her bedroom closet. She could deal with that later. Right now saving Cisco was all that mattered. She jammed her shoes on, grabbed her phone, and ran out, still in her torn, bloody pajamas. She called Barry. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Caitlin heard him on the line after the first ring. She didn’t wait for him to speak. They didn’t have the time.

“Amunet got Cisco. She’s probably keeping him in at her hide out. She won’t be on site. Pick me up near my apartment. Don’t waste time getting Ralph around.”

“How do you--”

“Just get here,” she snapped, cutting him off.

As soon as she hung up he was there. In another heartbeat they were at Amunet’s lair. Cisco was chained up, barely conscious. His face was bruised as though he’d been knocked out with a blunt instrument. Cisco.He was alive. He would be okay. There were guards, of course, but Caitlin ignored them. Barry would take care of them. She went straight to Cisco. She froze the chains and broke them.

Cisco reached for her as soon as his arms were free. She held him tightly, but gently. She tried to press him as close as she could, breathing in his scent.

“Caitlin.” He used her name even though she looked more like Killer Frost. She tried her hardest to change her hair back to its original brown. From what she could see, it worked. She hoped her eyes had changed back too. She wasn’t ready for them to know about what had happened to her tonight.

“I was afraid I would lose you tonight.” Suddenly she couldn’t stop the tears from coming. She was sobbing violently in his arms.

“That will never happen,” he whispered.

Not while I’m around, Caitlin thought to herself.

“Guys, we need to get out of here.” Barry interrupted. He’d knocked out all of the guards.

“Take Cisco first. Star Labs. I need to check out his injuries.” Caitlin ordered, brushing away her tears. Barry ran Cisco out. A second later he came back to take Caitlin.

Barry had gone home, leaving Caitlin and Cisco alone in the lab. Caitlin was finishing up her tests.

“There’s some bruising, but you don’t have a concussion. Overall, you’re healthy. You’ll be fine, Cisco.” She sounded like she was still convincing herself. Caitlin was still shaken.

“So, movie night?” He asked, smiling at her.

“It’s late and you need to sleep, but I’ll start a movie with you if you at least try to rest.” Caitlin couldn’t refuse him. “At your house.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to sleep alone tonight anyway.” Caitlin shared the sentiment. The thought of what she’d done, who she was becoming, frightened her. And, after tonight, she was loath to let Cisco out of her sight.

The television screen cast a faint light on the room. Caitlin watched Cisco sleep. He’d dozed off nearly as soon as they settled onto the couch. She didn’t blame him after the night they’d had.

It was funny; she’d been so concerned with her appearance earlier. It felt like ages ago. Now here she was, her makeup smudged, her hair a mess, and her pajamas torn and bloody. She hadn’t given it a thought. She had much bigger problems to deal with now. But all that mattered to her at the moment was that Cisco was safe. Anything else could wait.

#killervibe #killervibe fanfic #what is proof reading #this is going to need several more parts to evolve into a fully formed villain au

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writing-frenzy · 6 years

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Hidden Potential (but not from this Sinner’s eyes)

So, I got really inspired by @crowsketches Wonderful AU Idea and ended up writing this little thing for it. Hope you all like it!

Don’t own Cuphead!

Many things could be said about The Devil; he was a demon, a bastard, pure evil incarnate, deceitful, a lair, a cheat and oh could the list ever go on, but then we would be here all day in that case. Needless to say, many things could be said of the being, most of it unflattering to say the least.

But if there was one thing one could never say for the king of sin, it was this; in no shape or form was the demon a fool.

Oh, sure, The Devil had his missteps and foul ups, no one is infallible in this world. The being is full of his own arrogance and other sins, so mistakes can be made here and there every century or so.

Thing is, The Devil never makes the same mistake more then once. If if he did, well, he certainly wouldn’t be the top of Hell, or leading a successful business as he was all over the world. (Sin was everywhere, after all, but Inkwell was... Special in it’s own right.) He was a being with plenty of experience with the world and how it worked, and was actually able to learn from what it gave him.

So when two certain dishware brothers actually managed to not only beat his runaway debtors and his crew at the casino, but even himself? The King of Hell took notice. Cuphead and Mugman... Just entering the world of adulthood, and already hailed as ‘heroes’ for beating the Devil and the casino staff, thinking they’ve freed the isles from his corruption.

Heh, as if he’s ever had to actually had to ‘imprison’ anyone; every single one of the suckers were the ones to come to him, the ones who took the gambles and risks despite knowing all the dangers. Already, he’s had a few come visit the place, looking so smug even as they slowly drain their accounts just like before.

(Honestly, it was only a matter of time before he got new soul contacts to replace the ones he’s lost; wouldn’t take long judging by the greed and lust in those hearts all around.)

But on to the brothers, The Devil couldn’t deny he was interested; with only two days, the boys had been able to grow so strong and powerful, no doubt fueled in part by determination, desperation, and their bond with each other, which is what really made them a threat. By themselves, they were strong, true, could even probably take on anything as they were both of equal strength in powers and abilities, but with them working together, that was when one needed to learn to fear.

Cuphead, older of the two, was interesting in just how reckless and aggressive he could be, overwhelming in his fighting which made him seem that much stronger. This would work out better, if the boy wasn’t a bit too overconfident in his skills, their ego getting in their way to bring them down and leaving them wide open to any enemy able to take advantage of it. By himself, he would probably perish many times before he could defeat a Debtor.

But of course, he wasn’t; he had the cautious, worrying, if bright brother on his side, ready to have his back, push him forward, or parry his ghost when needed. Where as his brother was a tank, Mugman would be akin to sniper, the wary one to see the patterns first and use them to their advantage as much as possible. If only the boy wasn’t too hesitant and self conscious, he would truly be a real threat.

And yet, for all the faults both had, when put together, they covered each other perfectly.

The Devil grinned, a thought coming to him; he just had the most delightful plan come to mind.

All he had to do, was wait... But first, he needed to make a stop by the PR.

He just had a most wonderful idea for an add.

It was almost too funny, seeing the brats come in, the red one nearly simmering, even as the cup in blue followed behind at a slower place, eyes cautious as the still liquid on their head let out only a bubble or two from the straw, showing a super at the ready any minute. In no time at all did they approach the table The Devil decided to set up, smirking as the two little guys stomped and walked up to him.

“Welcome to the Casino boys, here to bet again?” the furred demon nearly purred, grin on his face even as the two cups regarded him burning glares and gazes.

“What the heck is the meaning of this!” Cuphead near growled, slamming a familar paper on the table.

Humoring the cup, the demon took a look, amused as he read the familar words.

Want a gamble most brisk? Feeling up the risk? Come and bet The Devil himself in The Devil’s Casino!

Not his best work, but PR did know how to get the point across, if he did say so himself.

“Why, that looks like one of my very own adds; good to see that it’s already turning in some customers as we speak.” Devil said, grinning even as Cuphead steamed.

“We beat you! You should be gone!” the red brother exclaimed, glare glowing bright even as his brother tried to calm him down.

“Hmph, really? One battle and you think I’m that easy to get rid of? Now that is funny.” the furred being snorted, even as his add was crushed before his eyes by one hotheaded cup.

“Then we’ll just have to beat you again-” Cuphead began, only to be cut off by a white gloved hand, one belonging to their blue brother.

Ah, seems someone has notice just how much tighter security is now, what with how they point out said they to their brother, those large dark eyes widening in realization.

“You’ll find,” The devil smirked, chin in his hands as his elbows rested on the table, “that this time, I’m not going to underestimate you boys.”

For a moment, only the back ground noise in the casino could be heard, even as the many hidden guards and spells in the place glowed in warning, watching, waiting for a single word from the big cheese of the Casino's word.

“So, unless you boys have a bet to place, you might want to scoot along; I know quiet a few of my staff would absolutely love the chance to kick you out.” bait set.

“Not a chance, we’ll not let you get anymore souls if we have anything to say about it.” Red near whistle, anger in their eyes plain to see, even as Blue nodded in agreement, eyes though still wary, even as determination still shined.

“Heh, like you could honestly stop people from betting with me.” line thrown.

“We can too!” nibbles.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Would you bet on that?” the Devil asked, grin on his face as he watched the frustrated boy before him open his mouth.

Only to find a tine cake shoved right into it before anything can come out.

“If you say yes, we immediately lose! Without any boundaries even set because you did make a bet!” Mugman near hissed, shaking his brother as he did so.

That got a sheepish response from his brother, who hastily finished chewing his cake as he did.

“Hehehe, yeah, I didn’t think about that...”

Ah, tis a shame; just meant he’ll have to use even more words then.

“Alright then, how about this;” his words getting attention instantly, “we’ll only count any bet after yours. If you can honestly stop people from making a bet with me the rest of the day, you’ll get one thing you want.” the Devil tempted, smirking as he could see it working on Cuphead.

“Then I want you gone from Inkwell Isles forever!”

That got a frown and a raised eyebrow, “Kid, even if I wanted to take that risk, I can’t...” that actually got him some surprised looks from the two brats, “but I can say I’ll be gone from Inkwell as long as you two live if you like.”

“And our friends?” Mugman put in hesitantly, frown on his own face as he regarded the devil carefully.

Devil let out a smirk at that, leaning back into his chair as he took a sip of some rather nice bourbon before replying, “Sure; if you’re will to bet a soul.”

And oh look, this time the brother just wasn’t fast enough.

“It’s a deal.”

And so the game begins.

In the end, the two hold there end of the bet very well. Cuphead using threats, and sometimes straight up force to scare of any potential bettors away, working rather well for himself. Mugman, on the other hand, used a most subtle approach, pointing attention to the Casino’s other attractions, or even down right misleading people on the facts all the while never lying.

Now, The Devil could have ended this early and just have a bet with one of his staff... but he honestly wanted to watch. Even if he lost, only he himself would have to leave for maybe a century or two before he could come back, and the casino could easily run itself with the crew leading it and some long distance from himself. Sure, King Dice would get a bit of a heavier workload, but that was what assistants were for after all. (If nothing else, that might just convince the man to finally hell damn delegate.)

So it wouldn’t be any fur off his back, so with that, he took his time to watch the brothers, grin firmly in place as the two made sure he had quiet the room for himself.

And yet, for all their strength, greed can at times be much stronger, especially with desperation fueling it. All it took was for one desperate person, just one, to get by the brothers and at his feet, a bit the worst for wear as they made a bet.

One of which he gleefully accepted, much to the brothers grief at the sight.

Ah, he ever so loved the taste of suffering; even better when paired with his own victory.

“Well now boys, it seems I’ve won this bet; time for me to collect my due.” the Devil said as he got up, even as his guards gathered the damned sod away, approaching the brothers, Cuphead standing protectively in front of his brother, Mugman tearfully clinging to him.

“Go on, take me; I’m the one who took the bet after all.” Red said bitterly, even in defeat not looking away or bowing to him.

Admirable, if foolish.

“Oh, but that would be predictable, wouldn’t it? What kind of demon would I be if you could predict me like that?” was mockingly said, even as his eyes slid from one brother to the next, his fangs now fully showing.

“No, I think I have a better choice in mind.” and thus saying so, the Devil snapped his fingers, a contract appearing at the same time as a poof appeared around the brothers.

When the smoke cleared, Cuphead was gone, no where to be seen. Mugman, on the other hand, was actually looking rather sharp in a suit and bow tie, cleaning up rather nice in the casino’s uniform. Before the young man could fully gather his wits, the contract transformed into a book, containing all the casino’s rules and regulations within.

“Welcome to The Devil’s Casino, and from here on out, I will be your boss, Mugman.” The Devil said, handing the book to the horrified mug.

Oh yes, this would be fun.

#cuphead #cuphead dont deal with the devil #cuphead fanfic #cuphead dont deal with the devil fanfic #Cuphead Au #Devilishly Employed AU

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thebibliomancer · 6 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #169: If We Should Fail -- the World Dies Tonight

March, 1978.

This is a bit of an odd duck.

As I’ve mentioned, its a filler issue.

It only features Captain America, Iron Man, and Black Panther.

The cover is neat though. Three dooms so the spiked ball pink energy sort of separates the cover into a sort of triptych of the situations where I guess these three Avengers are looking for the three dooms.

Since there’s no last time context that will make this make any more sense, lets get into it.

We start with Iron Man doing a crossword while Captain America and Black Panther help him, moodily.

Considering that they’re enjoying some downtime, they don’t seem to be, well, enjoying it.

So maybe its no great loss after all when the wall explodes and a green-armored man stomps in promising the Avengers a battle to the death!

The battle doesn’t start off great for the Avengers. Perhaps because of poor planning.

Cap jumps at the guy and just gets grabbed and thrown. Iron Man rushes straight at him and gets multiply missiles for his haste. Black Panther grabs him but the dude can heat his suit up to two hundred degrees.

Also, apparently the green armor is a hyper-suit that this intruder spent millions on.

The Avengers get their shit together and start attacking in unison, managing to get some repulsor and mighty shield hits on him.

But then things get... weird.

And a bit uncomfortable.

The guy starts shouting stuff like “Fight me, Avengers -- fight and kill me!” and “Fire your repulsor rays at me -- until I’m dead! Destroy me! That is my last wish!”

The Avengers realize that there’s more going on here and presumably suspect that they’ve been duped into aiding some guy’s suicide by Avenger or extremely niche fetish.

But since the guy will kill them and is breaking their mansion in the meantime, Iron Man knocks the wind out of his sails with some sustained repulsoring.

Iron Man unmasks the stunned aggressor and discovers... JASON BEERE!?

Well, we don’t know who this is but Iron Man recognizes him. Beere is one of Tony Stark’s major competitors.

So what is this all about? Some extremely niche fetish?

Jason Beere: “Because I am dying... because, when my heart gives out -- when I breathe my last -- I -- I want the world to die with me!”

And then he passes out. Because he’s dying.

Iron Man flies Beere to the Stark Industries Flushing plant and tells the Avengers to meet him there.

And by Avengers I mean Captain America and Black Panther.

I don’t know where Thor, Wonder Man, Vision, Scarlet Witch, Yellowjacket, Beast, or the Wasp are. Probably at the opera.

Anyway, to save Beere, Iron Man uses a spare chest plate and an artificial respirator to keep him alive.

When Cap and Black Panther arrive, Iron Man tells them what he’s learned... somehow.

Iron Man: “Listen, Beere’s a megalomaniac -- he’s planted four bombs somewhere in the world, and they’re all set to explode the moment his heart stops. They’re neutron warheads, powerful enough to obliterate all life on Earth. Friends -- simply said -- Beere wants to take us all with him when he goes!”

Wait, four bombs? Then why three dooms? Cover, you’ve lied to me yet again!

Anyway, maybe Iron Man visited Beere’s office after temporarily saving Beere’s life but before Cap and Black Panther showed up. Because as Cap parachutes into Peru, he thinks to himself about the information they got from the notes in Beere’s office-safe.

For example, the location of three of the bombs.

And that Beere’s wife left him and took the children the previous year.

And how to disarm the bombs.

Anyway, this filler has chapters because. So:

Chapter 2: The Temple of Winged Death!

Cap just finds the first spiky orb neutron bomb chilling out in an alcove of a Peruvian pyramid.

Its not even hidden. Its almost too easy.

Oop, spoke too soon. Cap aggroed some locals.

Now these bird helmed fellows are just defending their sacred temple but Cap is trying to save the world. Its one of those unfortunate ‘smoking gun’ things that fiction sets up.

They also don’t speak English so he can’t communicate with them and since he dives in punching and also swivels one of their number into the path of a poisonous dart attack, I don’t think they’d be too keen to listen to him.

Seriously though, Cap? Dick move.

You have a shield.

I mean, sure, they have a cure for their own poisons so the man will live. Provided someone gets the cure to him in time.

That’s how Cap justifies it to himself anyway while patting himself on the back for not being a killer.

I’m being uncharitable.

Anyway, the priest or perhaps falconer of the tribe shows up. He can speak English.

And it transpires that instead of just defending their land, they were paid by Beere to kill Captain America should he show up.

For shame, comic. Turning the bird hatted people into evil mercenaries to justify Cap’s invasion of their territory and indirect poisoning of one.

This does raise questions though.

Beere evidently knew that the Avengers would find his bombs and made contingencies for it. He also knew that Captain America specifically would go for this bomb. And I guess knew that only three Avengers would be in this issue and that they wouldn’t bother calling others.

Truly an unique mastermind, this Jason Beere.

Anyway, Cap swings from a branch, uses some bees to attack the sacred harpy eagles, sproings off a branch, nabs the neutron spike orb and flees for his Quinjet.

Because putting most of your points into Acrobatics works.

Chapter 3: Black Prowler... White Death!

Meanwhile, Black Panther was sent to the arctic circle so he could wax philosophic about being a prince of a tropical country now alone in a world of eternal cold.

Truly he is misplaced wherever he roams.

Oh and Black Panther pretty easily finds his bomb too. Just sitting right inside an ice cave.

Which happens to be the ice cave ice lair of the biggest polar bear Black Panther has ever seen.

Life hack: You don’t have to pay natives to murder an Avenger if you just put a bomb in a polar bear cave. -taps temple-

So obviously, Black Panther is going to wrestle that polar bear. That’s just the inevitable path that this comic set him on.

Plus, the man once put Silver Surfer in an arm bar. He’ll wrestle anything. He’ll wrestle himself.

He kind of goofed up though. He forced the polar bear to stumble off of a ledge, probably to knock it out, but he misjudged the thickness of the ice.

So down they go into the freezing water.

With the cold numbing him and also a lack of oxygen, Black Panther has to abandon his plan to wrestle the bear.

Instead he breaks an icicle over bjorne’s head and then uses his face as a springboard back to the surface.

Like Cap, Black Panther too doesn’t want to kill. Its not the polar bear’s fault that its a killing machine. It needs to kill to eat. Black Panther just doesn’t want to be eaten. But he wishes him luck with the next meal that isn’t Black Panther.

Also, damn, I don’t think he has a change of clothes and he’s soaked to the bone. Also his costume is explicitly freezing due to the water soaked into it. Walking away from this without hypothermia is a testament to something.

Black Panther’s willpower perhaps.

Chapter 4: Madness Over Moscow!

I notice that all three of these bombs were placed so that the Avengers would have to invade someone else’s turf to retrieve them. I wonder if that’s an overall thematic point or Beere’s just being a dick.

Since he wants the world to die with him and he isn’t a sympathetic anime girl with a cape, its probably the latter.

Iron Man actually wanted to call ahead and get the cooperation of the Soviets (because even if he saves the world from Beere’s bombs, ratcheting up the doomsday clock by annoying the Russians is hardly an ideal outcome) but realized that coming to them and saying hey can I ransack your museum for a bomb that my fellow capitalist countryman hid there wouldn’t come off well.

So he figures its better to never have to ask forgiveness than permission and he’ll sneak this shit.

Problem: Beere’s is a dick.

He set up secret messages for the Soviets to intercept that revealed Iron Man was going to invade the country.

So they were watching for Iron Man.

Specifically.

How did Beere’s know that it would only be these three Avengers? Geez.

Iron Man starts pondering along similar lines as Cap. Obviously Beere knew the Avengers would find his notes and go to retrieve the bombs. Its almost as if he wanted them to find his bombs. But why?

And why any of this? If the plan was for the world to die with him, why involve suicide by Avengers at all? Why not just quietly commit suicide? Why alert the Avengers at all to what was going on?

Iron Man finds the bomb but the museum is booby-trapped to prevent burglars from escaping.

Burglars don’t tend to have power armor though. I mean, yeah, they do. But mostly in New York.

So Iron Man just seals his mask from the knockout gas and OH YEAHs through the wall.

He retrieves the bomb but finds himself surrounded by Russian soldiers with heavy ordinance.

Given that, he asks if they want to hear a story.

Chapter 5: A Fateful Decision!

Iron Man returns with his bomb!

There was a bit of a delay as he had to let Soviet officials examine the device but once they did they were more than willing to let him remove it from their country as soon as possible please.

So with all three bombs, its time to stick them together like in the blueprints.

Black Panther asks if they should follow Beere’s instructions. He is the guy that’s trying to blow up Earth. But Iron Man examined the spike balls and there’s no detonator.

Putting the devices together absolutely will not explode in their faces, guaranteed.

And it doesn’t.

Point to Iron Man.

Instead, it plays a pre-recorded message. I guess they’re really spiky tape players.

Jason Beere: “Greetings, Avengers! I congratulate you on locating my first three devices! But then, I knew you would succeed. You see, my diary and notes were planted for you to discover. They were to lure you away from the real bomb! A bomb primed to explode when my heart beats its last. My doctors say I will die within the month. That is not fair for a man who is worth two hundred million dollars. Therefore I decided, when I go -- the world will go with me! You have been duped Avengers -- sent on fools’ errands! And now... now it is too late. I am dying, and the final bomb has been activated. Farewell, Avengers! We shall met again soon... in the great galactic gameroom -- beyond!”

Captain America slams his fist down on a computer bank in frustration for being snookered and maybe even smeckldorfed.

But not so fast: Beere’s may have been one step ahead but Iron Man was half of a step ahead of him.

When he examined the device, he realized it wasn’t a bomb but a tape player. And with that realization, he deduced most of Beere’s plot. And having heard the tape, he’s also deduced the location of the fourth and real bomb.

Because Beere’s is that kind of asshole. Like Iron Man said, he could have quietly committed suicide and nobody would have been wiser to his plan or able to stop it.

He wanted the Avengers to know, to try, and to fail. I don’t know why. The guy is a megalomaniac. Its not enough that the world dies with him. He wanted to beat the Avengers and have someone know how brilliant he was before he died.

So he couldn’t help but drop a clue because thats what people do, I guess, when they think they’re so much smarter.

The fourth bomb is primed to explode when Beere’s heart beats its last.

The bomb is attached to his heart.

And Beere’s didn’t reckon with something else either. Tony Stark keeps his heart troubles a secret. Nobody knows that Iron Man needs the chest plate to live, even though he keeps keeling over anytime anybody so much as lightly bumps into his chest during fights.

The chestplate is keeping Beere’s heart going. And its giving the Avengers time enough to try to disarm the bomb.

Unfortunately, after running some tests, Iron Man determines that the bomb can’t be removed. If they try, it will detonate.

So plan B.

The Avengers put Beere in a cryogenic chamber. Beere’s heart will be slowed down but non-stop.

Maybe one day they’ll find a way to remove the bomb. But until then, Jason Beere will live. Its no life but he’ll live.

Rather than die young, he’ll probably outlive all the Avengers.

There’s a real something feeling about that. Poignant or ironic or some other thing. Lash out in rage over dying young and end up frozen alive forever.

Iron Man: “He is a true Eternity Man...”

Black Panther: “Whose every heartbeat keeps the world alive!”

And I presume that Eternity Man is frozen to this day. Hopefully Tony Stark doesn’t go bankrupt like the three times that has happened and lose the ability to keep the cryogenic chamber going.

Maybe they’d better just have Jean Grey launch the entire facility into space so it can be safely detonated...

Anyway, that was filler.

It was okay filler.

Iron Man basically solves everything off-panel and wraps everything up in a hurry on the last page but so it goes.

I’ll forever wonder why the other Avengers didn’t get involved but there’s no refunds on opera tickets. And the Ring Cycle was playing.

Next time we get back to the Korvac Saga. Or as I like to think of it Part One of the Peter Henry Gyrich Ruins Everything Saga.

#Avengers #Eternity Man #Captain America #Iron Man #Black Panther #Essential marvel liveblogging #Essential Avengers #three crossword enthusiasts save the world #Black Panther will wrestle anything #Iron Man makes a good persuasion roll #Captain America just desecrates a sacred temple and assaults some sacred birds

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black-strike-otp · 6 years

Text

part 94

I’m delirious and require sleep. Also go play this while reading just cuz the song’s title: Shockwave’s Revenge

The aura surrounding Shockwave’s lair left a haze of shrouded evil. It was no darker or lighter than the majority of Cybertron. The lighting was similar to what the Nemesis had; dark hues of purple filtering in every direction which did provide an eerie appearance.

What stood out the most though was the feel in the surroundings. Like a haunted house, it was deathly silent. Walls were riddled with scratches from unknown sources. Untold fights perhaps; or patients struggling for escape. The upper floor almost looked normal other than these strange observations.

Lying about was some worthless supplies left sitting from pre and post war. It appeared much like any other warehouse on Cybertron before the majority were collapsed from the constant strife upon the planet. Much of the building’s few windows had long since been busted out, leaving stray glass on the floor just as much as there was dust.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Blackout testified as he looked around. “Where’s the entry into the lower levels?”

“This way,” a feminine voice chimed.

He shifted his optics over to Venus as she spoke while passing by him. There was a natural sensual sway to her hips as she walked. Hurrying by, the dark rose accented femme disappeared past some of the crates and out of sight.

Novastrike cleared her vocalizer. One of her pedes tapped on the floor as she looked up to him with her helm lowered so that it appeared she was glaring up at him.

“What?”

“I saw you looking.”

“She was speaking to me,” he stated gruffly, offering a slight smile. “And I thought you said you weren’t jealous.”

“Her optics aren’t attached to her hips,” the little femme scoffed.

“I was only watching her walk by to see where she was going,” Blackout defended, his grin growing more crafty as he added on, “But if you feel the urge to stroll ahead to prove a point, I wouldn’t mind enjoying the view a bit.”

Light faded in and out of Novastrike’s ears in a blinking rush of light as she huffed, shaking her helm. The softened blue light emitting from her optics met his fearless scarlet as she quirked a smile of disbelief.

“We’re in a crazy scientist research area, and you’re flirting with me?”

“I live on the edge.”

“By the Allspark, I love you and your dumb hi-jinks.”

Bowing his helm deeply with respect, Blackout’s tone grated as he spook deep in his chassis, “And I love you too, Novastrike.”

“Alright lady’s mech,” Nova sighed deeply as she pivoted on her heel, “let’s get a move on before Venus ditches us. We still need to gather materials to manufacture a transmitter if we’re lucky and the others who vouched to help make our case manage to convince them.”

Stalking behind the little femme, Blackout quietly rattled off in a grumpy tone, “Worst case scenario: we need to find blueprints ourselves on how to build the intergalactic transmitter.”

The quiet melody of Novastrike’s laughter had him grinning like a moron as he took large strides to keep up with the covert femmes darting ahead of him like streaks of lightning. He never had to be the fastest mech with his size; taking large gaits between each step, but they put him to shame even with his usual brisker pace.

Once the obsidian giant had joined the two down a short set of stairs into the lower level, there was nothing in sight but further cargo. With a menacing growl of annoyance, the mammoth sized mech strode further into the small basement dwelling area. Shockwave must have taken great care into concealing his lab, because nothing here stood out as looking particularly alarming. The coverage of this space wasn’t even a tenth of the upstairs size.

He turned his gaze over to Novastrike quizzically after a moemnt. She was looking back to him expectedly and gave a slight inclination of her helm over to Venus. The taller femme was busy pushing some boxes out of the way of the wall. Digging her digits along the seams that made up two panes of metal of the wall, a small section popped up to reveal a button beneath it.

Raising an optic ridge, Blackout stepped over to join the two femmes as Venus pressed the button. Further metal pieces of the wall moved; transforming and peeling to the side to reveal a large elevator platform with guard rails surrounding all but the entry point for bots to walk on.

“You’re telling me Shockwave brought that giant Predacon up on this thing?” Blackout stated with a wave of a servo to the elevator. From the size of it, it didn’t appear as though it could hold half the size of that beast.

“I don’t know,” the assassin stated, placing a single servo to her hip. “This is the only entrance I know of. There could be another one with a larger lift of some sort to get the Predacon up here. I’ve never seen that creature before, but then again, the last time I was here was years ago the one time to save ‘Cade.”

“I would imagine seeing something like that would be hard to forget,” Novastrike quietly reasoned.

Venus gave a brief laugh, nodding her helm.

Both femmes boarded the landing first. It creaked uneasily even beneath their weight. Passing a glance to one another, they turned to look up at Blackout as he tentatively placed a pede on the elevator. Primus, he prayed this thing was operational and not a ploy or no longer functional piece of scrap that was going to send them hurtling who knew how many floors down.

To his surprise and relief, the metal groaned beneath his weight a moment and bounced before settling. Blackout rigidly remained still as Venus offered him a smile that suggested nerves. She gave a brief nod to him, realizing he wasn’t going to move further onto the platform, and reached over to a short stand anchored to the floor. Upon it was two arrows that would lower them down or raise the platform.

Pressing it, they began to slowly plunge into complete darkness down the shaft.

“How many floors are there, and how many do we need to go do?” the black outline in the darkness rumbled.

“I went down to the first level below the top one to fetch Barricade,” Venus stated. “That’s where the call room was too, probably since the radio equipment is hidden somewhere outside nearby I’d imagine. You wouldn’t good reception if it was much lower I think.”

Blackout nodded his helm. “No idea on the amount of floors, then?”

“I know there’s at least one below the one we’ll be going on,” she ventured slowly. “But I don’t know what’s down there.”

“We don’t need to find out,” the smaller femme nervously whispered.

A comforting smile moved across Blackout’s faceplate as he turned his optics upon Novastrike. With his optics transitioning into a night vision filter to better see in the void of blindness, he could make out her figure but mostly, the sight of her glowing brilliant optics of cobalt, teal, and aqua drew him in.

She smiled in return, and although he couldn’t make out her appearance nearly as well as she could his, he could see the way her mood shifted in the tones of her optics and the partial shutter they underwent as they brightened. It was such minimal alterations. Subtle, but he picked up on them and found himself smiling so wide it was nearly painful.

“Maybe where he had been keeping his Predacon pet?” Venus offered.

“Could be,” he agreed, forcing himself to look over to Venus and meet her gaze. “But Novastrike’s right. We don’t need to stay here longer than necessary gathering materials. It would just jeopardize the mission and make Barricade more nervous waiting for us.”

“Believe me, I don’t plan on spending a nanoklik in here longer than I have to,” seethed the taller femme.

They dropped further into the mad mech’s hideout in silence. After another thirty or so nanokliks, light suddenly splashed in, causing everyone to squint as the lift clunked and clanked its way down to the next level.

Venus released the down button. With optics readjusting to the new white and florescent blend of illuminated lights, Blackout took a step back and off the stand slowly. It recoiled and bounced once again, raising up a bit as he removed his weight entirely by stepping off from it completely.

Venus vented quietly as she strolled casually off after him. Reaching out, she patted his shoulder as she walked by and continued marching down the hall before them.

In a flash of white, Novastrike was off and by his pede. The spooked femme shuddered slightly, rubbing the upper region of her arms as she went to shuffle beside him as he turned and began to follow after Venus.

The majority of the chambers they passed had sealed and locked doors. Behind them, chilling moans and groans seeped through. The quiet scratching of digits against some of them added to the unease. Pedes shuffled, but weren’t quite shuffling. Thuds and thumps of varying weights moved around. Somewhere, deeper in this lab, a distant delirious gurgling screaming was carrying.

Novastrike’s digits brushed against his leg. Blackout nearly jumped. He wouldn’t admit to having been spooked openly, but he hadn’t been inspecting the gesture. Glancing down to the little femme, he could read the terror in her stance alone though she wasn’t looking to him. Her helm whipped one way and the another as she restlessly looked around.

“Everything alright, dear?” he rumbled, trying to keep his voice down.

“Too much,” she barely answered.

Raising an optic ridge, he waited until Nova raised her helm up to him. Her face was written in horror, and tears glittered in her optics. Short and brief heavy vents filtered in and out of her frame rapidly.

He instantly came to a halt.

“Nova, I can take you out-”

“No,” she insisted in a breathless monotone. “Let’s just hurry. I can’t take the sensory overload. There’s so much wrong with this place.”

It was startling to witness her rubbing at her optics as the tears formed and collected along the rims of her optics. With a concerned warble emitting from his chassis as his spark chimed a soft, hardly audible collection of reverberating notes, Blackout reached down to scoop up the small femme with guilt. He should have asked her to stay outside with Barricade to keep watch rather than bring her down here with her. He hadn’t even considered how her heightened senses would take everything down here.

Blackout pressed his collected bundle against his chassis. A quiet hum moved through his armor as he looked down the hall. His optics awkwardly met Venus’. With a nervous jerk of his helm, he looked away as he took large steps to meet her where she had stopped. All the while his digits curled protectively over Novastrike’s armor; tighter than necessary but far from being damaging.

Venus made a silent gesture to his servos as she raised an optic ridge questioningly. When he didn’t reply and hardly met her optics, she offered a caring but worried smile and continued down their path.

“How much further to the call room?” he echoed in a coarse manner.

“It’s just ahead,” the cerise highlighted femme stated.

Walking by one of the rooms, a loud band caused Venus to jump slightly. She muttered a curse beneath her breath, shaking her helm as they passed it. The shivers that erupted from Novastrike had Blackout trying to calm her as best he could. Heat basked off of his armor as he pressed her a bit closer, hurrying a bit more than usual after the other femme.

The call room didn’t have a door. They slipped in with ease, and Venus jutted out a digit with relief.

“There!” she exclaimed brightly, passing a cheeky grin to Blackout. “Told you I could find what you were looking for.”

“Grab anything else you think looks valuable,” he stated, looking around with a nod. “I’ll fetch the capacitors and see what other functioning parts he may have. We’ll be needing a power supply which shouldn’t be hard to get here or elsewhere, amplifiers, an electronic oscillator, modulator, and a bunch of other slag. I could care less if you wreck the place gutting it, just make sure anything that looks remotely useful or worthy of trading is salvaged.”

Keeping an impressive poker face, Venus slowly answered in kind, “Blackout, I’d like to remind you that I’ve managed just fine on this planet with eons. Part of getting by is knowing to look at something and even if you don’t know what it is, judging it’s worth and expense.”

He offered an apologetic gesture with one servo in a sweeping gesture to her before cupping it back around Novastrike. The assassin gave a slight nod to him, dashing on the other end of the room as he stomped over the open and massive circuit board missing a panel.

Blackout faltered in front of the opened access control board. He shifted his optics down to himself to his servos. Through his digits, he could just barely make out slivers of white.

He unfurled his cage from around the little femme. She created a brief noise of fear.

“I’m sorry, dear,” the obsidian mech quietly murmured. “I’m going to need to carry this stuff. Will you be okay on my shoulder?”

Novastrike gave a small nod, lurching slightly as she pressed digits over her mouth as she resisted the urge to vomit.

“I’m sorry,” she hoarsely mumbled.

“Don’t be,” he softly whispered, brushing his digits along her ears as he offered her a smile. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I dragged you down here.”

She mumbled something incoherent that he couldn’t make out. With a frown etching into his expression, the titan curved a single servo around his femme and raised her up to slip on his shoulder. Novastrike nestled against his armor and low under the kibble so that she was hardly visible. He could feel her face close against his neck, and the ragged breaths she huffed against him.

Servos free, he reached out in the circuit board and started to disassemble it. He couldn’t risk damaging any of the equipment, so took care with his large digits in pulling wires out from their sources and disconnecting components. It was tedious, but he didn’t rush himself as he unplugged and divided areas accordingly. For the life of him, he hoped some bot knew what half this stuff was, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to reconnect these dozens of wires himself into a new mechanism.

With a gentle tug as he rocked the circuitboard back and forth, he removed the entire section along with the capacitor. It had to be about a fourth of his height in total lengthwise. Balancing it carefully in his grip, Blackout turned around to see Venus holding a mixmatched sum of loot in her arms and some equipment and cables draped over her shoulders.

Looking him up and down, the femme spoke frankly: “Do you really think you’re going to need that whole piece?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “But I’d rather regret not taking all of it and miss something than just take the capacitor. I can tell there’s an amplifier here, so that’s one thing, but beneath the rest of this mess of circuits it’s difficult to tell.”

“Rip open the rest of the paneling and check,” she urged.

Torn between wanting to take the one thing they did have and leaving with their prize and wanting to complete the job, Blackout vented. He tried turning his helm to look at Nova, but could only partly make out her tail, legs, and rear from her curled up position pressed into his neck.

He growled with frustration. Placing the panel of electrics and spilling wires down, he reached out with free servos to grab the metal panels covering the rest of the monitors computer board. With a sharp tug, the metal bent outwards. With another tug, Blackout managed to rip off another large area of metal to reveal further areas of the motherboard.

He grabbed another section and ripped it free.

Then another.

While he tore into the computer, Venus busily subspaced the smaller items she held that she could. The remaining items she collected she dropped into a small case she found, dumping out its contents on the floor and putting her own items inside.

Finally with the majority of the computer systems available skeleton visible, Blackout shifted his crimson optics over the scenery. His optics rested upon a modulator that looked like it had seen better days; layered with dust and grim. There was only three connections from it throughout the entire motherboard, so he yanked those free and subspaced the small item.

Trailing his optics along coils of copper wires, Blackout spotted the oscillator and yanked that as well.

“That’ll do,” he rumbled.

“Are you sure?” Venus asked. “You don’t want to track down a power supply, or try tearing out any more of the connectors?”

“Those will be easier to come by and reclaim,” snapped the large mech. “I can already tell you the power supply isn’t in this room anyway; there’s a massive line that hooks up over there so it could be a few rooms over, or on a completely different level. We don’t have time to seek it out.”

“I might not know the complete layout of this place, but was there anything else-”

“No,” Blackout cut in before she could finish. He placed the electronic oscillator into his subspace and reached down, picking up the capacitor with it’s interconnected amplifier and various unreasonable dangling wires.

Reaching around, he wrapped the majority of the cables around the board of circuits and tucked it partly beneath one arm. With a respectable nod to Venus, he strode for the door, with her quickly outpacing him in a light jog back to the lift.

It seemed like a lifetime going up the elevator shaft. This whole operation had been too easy for his liking though. No sentries, no guards, no security whatsoever. He didn’t even know if there was an anti-air strike weapon. He’d certainly not seen anything like that stationed outside of the base. He wondered how well-hidden they would have to be, but it surprised him more that that seemed to be the only defense Shockwave had to this place.

“Is there no security feeds here?” he uncomfortably grumbled impatiently, trying to will the damn elevator to go faster as he felt Nova shiver anxiously against his neck.

The taller femme shuttered her optics in thought. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I mean, I always assumed there was. But I’ve literally only been here two, three times maybe. A few times I came here with Barricade as he left for his tests prior to Shockwave locking him up and tethering him to an examination table. The last time I was sneaking in to liberate him.”

“And nothing unusual happened while you were freeing him?” Blackout hedged.

Venus gave a shake of her helm as her pink optics flickered. “No. I mean, outside of the creepy things I witnessed, no. I never encountered any malicious bots or guards.”

“Was Shockwave present at the time?”

“I didn’t see him,” she vented loudly. “Though if I did, I probably would have torn out his optic. The single-eyed creep.”

“Hmm,” Blackout drawled thoughtfully. “I wonder if he was busy at the time, or if he wanted ‘Cade to escape.”

“Want him to escape? Why would he want him to escape?” she asked, her soft voice somewhat harder now and edgy.

“To test him. See what his experiment could do. See how long his resolve would last.”

Venus narrowed her gaze into slits. As the elevator came to a screeching halt to their destination, she released the upward pointing arrow button and dropped her arm. The violet overcast light from the upper levels threw strange figures and hues over her faceplate.

“Well if that was his test, he certainly failed.”

Furious, the femme pushed past Blackout and off the platform. It jostled unsteadily beneath Blackout’s pedes. Pitching as though it was a boat upon rough seas, he reached out to grasp the edge of the wall as he turned to see Venus plodding up the short staircase. He vented softly, letting go off the wall and stepping off onto the steady warehouse floor once more.

He reached up and across himself then to place a servo against Nova. The small femme winced slightly before she lifted her helm up. Her optics looked upon the former Decepticon Hound’s as he looked to her with a warm stare of glittering red optics.

“You okay dear?” he gently coaxed while stroking her ears.

Nova bobbed her helm up and down. “A bit better not being down there,” she admitted quietly. “There was a lot of terrible, horrible, disturbing scents and sounds down there penetrating my helm. I could taste the chemicals floating through the air. You could almost picture the things that happened down there from just the smells alone.”

“I’m sorry I towed you along down there,” he grumbled, kicking himself inwardly.

“That’s okay,” she answered quietly. “You didn’t know what it would be like down there. Neither did I.”

Why didn’t that make him feel any less at fault?

Adjusting his grip on the circuit board against his side, Blackout dropped his other arm to his side again and hiked up the steps after Venus. He followed his way back around the crates and through the warehouse to the front, where the femme was already busy reuniting with Barricade with the contents of her heist at her pedes.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” the small purple and ebony grounder mech urged, holding her face gently in his shaking servos.

“Yes, I’m fine,” replied the black and pink femme, smiling softly as she reached up to overlap her servos on top of his. “See? Perfectly fine. Still in one piece. Nothing bad happened and all. We’re all okay. You don’t need to worry. Inhale deeply-”

As she said this, ‘Cade calmly dragged in air through his ventilation system.

“-and exhale.”

A rush of slightly warm air escaped him as he bowed his helm, placing his forehead against hers.

“Better?” Venus whispered with her optic ridges drawn close with concern.

“Yeah,” Barricade crooned, shuttering his optics part of the way. “Better.”

Smirking a bit to himself, Blackout cast a glance to Novastrike as she observed the pair. She turned to look at him with embarrassment as she was caught staring, looking as far away from any of them as she could by craning her neck back.

With a snicker, the obsidian mech shook his helm. A quiet warbling sound captured his attention and he lifted his helm up to look beyond the couple a few yards in front of him to stare out as a portal began to form where one had previously been.

The other three bots suddenly whipped their helms to the space bridge that was beginning to form.

Blackout’s smile drained away. He quickly turned, stepping to the left and back in the direction they’d come from. His pedes skidded slightly as he glanced back, spotting Venus dropping her servos from Barricade as she tugged on his arm.

“‘Cade!”

He didn’t move.

“Barricade!”

The scream of dismay went unheard.

His violet optics were locked on the space bridge with unfocused fear. As a shadow moved out from the blinding light, Shockwave’s massively hulking frame appeared in a flicker. He appeared taken off guard, though it was hard to tell with no faceplate and a single unemoting red optic staring at them.

Blackout swiftly slid the panel he’d been carrying to the ground. Before he could make his way over to the two Shockwave raised his cannon.

An explosive blast of thunder escaped the hefty weapon as it went off.

Venus shoved Barricade just in time and was hurtled the exterior wall of the warehouse, slamming into metal. She fell to the ground with a gasp, pressing a servo to her side as energon seeped out between her buckled in armor.

Barricade let out a ghastly roar that even startled Blackout. He made a slight lunge towards Shockwave, hesitated, and looked to Venus with sickened dread as the light of her optics flashed ominously. His optics were a blinding pinkish-purple as he darted over to her, placing a servo against her side as her blood ebbed out.

Snapping up his arm, Blackout unfurled his cannon and nearly fired when he pulled his arm up with shock.

He looked to his shoulder and back to Shockwave.

In her alt-form, Novastrike had managed to eat the distance between them and the Decepticon chief scientist and had her teeth embedded in the wire that connected the cannon to Shockwave’s frame. She clamped down tighter as the purple mech tried to shake her lose.

He couldn’t risk shooting and hitting Nova.

Divided, Blackout looked to Barricade and Venus and then to Novastrike and Shockwave. The seams on ‘Cade’s faceplate were slightly visible now, like he was refraining from revealing his maw as he tried to keep pressure on her wound. He looked back to Nova, latched on to the mech standing just outside the space bridge.

There was no perfect choice to be made.

Transforming his cannon back into his arm, Blackout charged Shockwave. The mech went to raise his cannon, but no light emitted from it as Nova ripped her claws through the line, slicing ribbons of wires out as she whipped her helm to tear into the connector.

His fist struck the bot just short of his optic as he turned his helm away. Throwing his weight in to the punch, the scientist fell back a few steps, barely managing to keep on his pedes.

Blackout shook his aching servo lightly, grinning.

Standing just beside the space bridge, a darkness began to emerge from the light. His optics flickered towards it and then slowly, he craned his helm back. Something he’d only had to do a few times in his life when looking to Autobot sentinels and city-transformers in all his life.

With steely fangs bared and mandibles curved out from its face, the Predacon released an ominous growl as it slunk out from the space bridge; curling its body out slowly from the swirling light. With a lash of its mighty tail, it emerged in full and the space bridge closed behind it.

Frag.

Drawing in a rush of air, the Predacon opened its mouth wide. It’s jaws parted as an orange light flickered deep in the bowels of the beast and radiated glowing biolights in a spilling orangish-yellow glow.

As the beast lunged forward, Blackout grabbed the dragon by its upper and lower jaw. Heat just as sweltering and painful as those of the smelting pits and furnaces he’d worked for as a slave emitted from the creature’s maw. It did not release it’s fire, not yet, but hinged and worked its jaws as it tried to get him to release it’s face.

Screeching furiously, the drake tried clamping its teeth down, threatening to take his arm. Blackout grunted, straining to keep its mouth open as beads of melted metal began to drip from his side.

The creature narrowed its optics as he met its gaze. It sucked in sharply.

Before it could bath him in flames, Blackout let go of the Predacon’s jaws. They snapped shut suddenly, and the beast created a hiccuping deep in its throat. Balling up his servo in a fist, Blackout struck the monster on top of its helm, knocking it’s lower jaw into the ground.

Snorting smoke out of its nostrils, the brilliant light faded from its throat. With a whip of its tail, the beast struck him in the legs, knocking him on his back.

Staring up at the mythical legend in front of him, Blackout’s optics widened as it lunged for him again with bared fangs.

Before it clamp down upon his armor, a strong surge of electrical currents blasted outward from him.

The EMP wave suddenly drained him of energy. He’d never tried using that much at one time, but this was an incredibly massive foe.

With a massive thud and a quiet, dull groan, the Predacon’s legs gave out and it fell limp and unconscious before him. The light from its golden optics was gone as they shuttered closed.

Exhaling loudly with shock that it had worked, Blackout pushed himself unsteadily up to his pedes. His optics looked down at the black metal that had hardened on the ground and looked down himself at the strange streaks over his chassis where beads had cooled part of the way down.

Twisting his helm around fast enough to strain his neck cables painfully, Blackout looked to where he could hear the scuffle of pedes. Shockwave was trying to fend off Novastrike as she darted around him, lashing her tail out violently as Scorponok did with the shield casing around her own prongs removed.

The cyber-cat hissed venomously at the mech as he tried to swat at her. Without his single weapon, he practically defective. He relied too heavily on that over-powered source and his experiments for protection rather than fighting. Science came first and foremost; he simple lacked a means of winning.

Blackout went to take a step towards them and fumbled, nearly collapsing on the ground. He looked up with narrowed optics to the duo as they danced, venting harshly.

Growling furiously, Barricade came running from behind, slamming Shockwave in the helm with his pede. As the mech stumbled back with a painful grunt, the small mech turned on point and flicked out a whip.

Blackout recognized that whip. It belonged to Venus.

An electrical current surged out from the weapon as it lassoed around Shockwave’s leg. ‘Cade gave a quick tug, bringing the mech down on his back with a thud and a grunt.

He snapped the whip free with a single flick of his wrist, looking down at the mech as his optic dimmed and grew brighter in irregular intervals.

“‘Cade,” Blackout rasped, looking over his shoulder at the Predacon as its tail slid across the ground slowly. “‘Cade, we need to go.”

The grounder turned his helm towards Blackout slowly. The seams he’d spotted earlier were spreading slightly to reveal a hint of that threatening display of infected purplish-pink lights and the scalpel-ended feeder peeking out.

“‘Cade,” the larger mech warned in a snarl.

Forcibly, slowly, the mech closed the four-way point the majority of the way. He turned his optics quickly to where Venus laid, her servo pressed to her side. She was on her pedes once more at least.

Hasily, the three bots made their way over to the femme. Venus offered a waning smile to them, waving one of her energon smeared servos slightly as she winced.

“Do you need me to carry you?” Blackout asked quietly.

“No, I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

Doubt moved through his optics, but he nodded and quickly moved his attention on to Barricade. “You’ll need to carry the equipment Venus took, ‘Cade. I’ll get the motherboard. Venus, stay between us just in case. Novastrike, can you bring up the rear?”

With a light of courage in her blazing sapphire optics, Nova gave a single nod of her helm.

“Right.” Barricade drawled out in sinister hiss. “Yes. I can do that.”

“Focus, ‘Cade,” Blackout urged, reaching out to shake his shoulder.

The mech looked sideways to the femme standing at his side. She passed him a small but supportive smile.

“I can do this,” he stated almost like a reminder to himself; his tone slightly less gravely.

Grabbing the panel of tangled circuits and pieces of the computer, Blackout positioned himself on one side of Venus as ‘Cade stepped closer on the other side, tucking the box beneath his arm. He reached out to place an arm around her waist for support, pulling her close.

Placing his servo on the ground, Shockwave positioned himself in a seated position slowly. His Cyclops single red optic moved to the left and right. There was no sign of the bots that had attacked them, though he had a clear vision of those that did.

Highly illogical to consider Blackout treasonous, but the proof had been right in front of him.

Turning his single gaze to the Predacon, he watched as it twitched and lazily moved as it stirred from the EMP wave that had knocked his creation unconscious. With a single, thought humming sound to himself, the scientist cautiously moved to get back on his pedes.

He had to check his facility to see what was missing, and settle on making a report to Lord Megatron on the incident.

#quid pro quo au #OTP AU #OTP Lit #OTP Friends #Badass OTP

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