#or your door is pretty much blasted off its hinges out of nowhere

[exosmuttytalk]

Just Dance

Characters: Chanyeol, female OC

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort (kinda?)

Word count: ~2400

Summary: Following a round of her favorite videogame, Chanyeol makes the best effort to prop his girl up.

A/N: Originally, this was going to go a different route with a different main character, but then I thought about my friend @blogmariasan​ and wanted to write something for her ~

How cute does he look in that gif tho

The rapid beating of your heart in your ears and the loud music coming out of the speakers were strong enough for you to miss the noise the front door made when it turned on its hinges. Or the rummaging at the hall as he left the keys at the usual spot on top of the dresser and hung his coat on the hanger.

“Oh, so that’s what you do when I’m not at home, hmm?” his voice came from the doorstep to the living room, where you had moved the coffee table out of the way to make enough space for your workout, standing in front of the TV. “Fraternizing with our enemies.”

The high amount of energy your body stored at the moment combined with his voice startling you sent you practically flying across the room and into the sofa that had been pushed backwards. Sweat dripped down your back and you could feel blood rushing to your already flushed face.

The subject of dance came up fairly often in conversations with Chanyeol, who would sometimes need reassurance when he compared his own dancing with some other of his band mates, but who you’d never let watch you dance. Not on purpose, of course.

Dance is one of those things that do not matter to normal people. Everyone’s been to a club or a party at least once, has made a complete fool of themselves and then has gone home, hopefully having had fun. Not you.

When you were a kid, almost all your female classmates had enrolled in some sort of dance classes: ballet, regional dances, hip-hop, you name it. You knew many people who were part of an amateur band that learnt and performed their favorite artists’ dances. You weren’t one of them. At those end of year performances at your primary school, you’d always be left at the back, fulfilling the inconspicuous roles of trees, random animals, or the time when you had gotten quite a share of the spotlight as a door knob in a musical version of Alice in Wonderland. Coordination was just not your forte.

Everybody who knew you knew that as well. Including your boyfriend, who had found out about your slight incompetence when it came to being a protagonist and to moving your body in a graceful manner quite early in the relationship, when he had taken you as his companion to a family wedding. As enthused as always, he dragged you across the room to the dance floor, and knowing many of his family members were scrutinizing your every move, you had no option but to dance with him. Thankfully, one of his uncles was a nurse and was able to examine your ankle and determined you had only sprained it. As soon as he heard that, all the worry he had been sporting on his face since he saw you trip and hit the ground, disappeared. It was instead replaced by a slight mocking expression that only grew bigger when his grandma patted him in the back and told him you were nice but he needed to teach you to keep a bit of balance. What a beautiful family introduction.

Wasn’t that funny though? You wouldn’t trade your life for anything in the world, but you would have preferred if dance wasn’t such an important aspect in your partner’s life. Being energetic as he is, Chanyeol would usually blast music while at home, didn’t matter to him whether it was his own music or someone else’s, and dance around while doing chores. He’d do it in the car as well.

“Dancing is very fun, baby, you still haven’t found the perfect song for you.”

Just watching him prance around the house made you unbelievably happy, but you never let yourself get into it. As much as you watched and enjoyed every single one of his performances, and for many of them, you’d learnt the whole choreography, you didn’t allow yourself to get carried away beyond a gentle sway.

The thing is you loved dancing. You actually loved to the point it was your main form of exercise. Who doesn’t love getting carried away with their favorite music? You just were aware of the quality of the movements you produced, so you refused to do it in front of other people.

“I wasn’t doing anything with your enemies! And they’re not your enemies, you’re just petty!”

You stood back up and forcefully pulled the sofa back to its original place. Then, you turned off the game console without even worrying to save your progress and left the controller on top of the table a bit more harshly than necessary and left the room in a huff.

When Chanyeol asked you to move in with him, you knew you wouldn’t have as much privacy as you used to do living in your tiny one bedroom apartment, but you didn’t particularly mind it. By that point, you had already spent plenty of time at each other’s homes and he was an easy going person, so you felt at home. Besides, his busy schedule kept him out of the house most of the day; so you felt at ease. Even more so when you discovered, in a party with his band mates where he pulled it out as an entertainment safe bet, that he had unlimited access to one of your favorite videogames. So now, whenever he was out and you wanted to exercise, you’d turn it on and dance on your own, enjoyed yourself and bumped into enough stuff around the house Chanyeol would always enquire about the bruises on your legs.

His brows furrowed when he heard your snappy tone and you made your way out of the living room.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” He followed you into the bathroom where you struggled to get out of your sweaty workout clothes while at the same time avoiding his gaze from scanning your flushed face. “You’ve already been living here for long enough, you can use anything here whenever you can, you know that?”

“It’s not that!” You responded, annoyed and in the verge of tears.

He waited for you to come out of your t-shirt to grab your hand and pull you back into the bedroom, where he sat in the middle of the bed, cross legged and making a space big enough between your legs for you to fit in comfortably. You flinched when his fingers started sliding down your still damp back in soothing movements, but couldn’t help but dive into his comforting hug.

“So now you’re gonna tell me what’s got you all up in arms today, hmm?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but you know keeping bad things in will get you nowhere. Why are you angry? You seemed so happy when I came in.”

“I am not angry…” you said in a low tone while you tried to hide your face against Chanyeol’s chest.

“So what is it?” He cupped your face in his hand and raised your head to look at you. As soon as his eyes fixed on yours, you felt another wave of heat hit your cheeks. “Are you blushing?” You could almost hear the gears grinding in his brain as he connected the dots. “Is it because I caught you dancing?”

You let out an undefined sound that served as an affirmation and took your eyes away from him.

“I remember how embarrassing it was for you at Hee’s wedding, but there’s no one else but me here. You can enjoy yourself without a problem!”

“It’s not that… I can’t dance in front of you.”

“But why not, baby? I will do it with you, it’s fun!”

“I just…” you hesitated, but the expression on his face as he waited was enough. “I am a bad dancer, okay? I know that.”

He nodded with caution, not wanting to make you feel worse with his acknowledgement.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Of course there is a problem! You dance for a living”

“Well, I do other stuff too, but it’s a pretty big part. What does that have to do with this?”

“I love you, okay? I really like seeing you perform and I know you love what you do. But sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough for you,” you finally confessed.

“What?” his voice was higher pitched than usual to express his confusion. “Where is this all coming from?”

“I sometimes think…maybe if you see how bad I am at this, you will compare me to your other friends who also dance and think you can do better than me.”

“Are you really telling me you’re scared of me leaving you for someone who dances better than you?” his voice kept raising in disbelief.

“Well, if you put it that way! Just listen to me! You are always around people who are more talented, better looking and who have more interesting lives than me. I have none of that. How am I supposed to feel!?”

Chanyeol leaned back into the mattress and pulled your body along with his, so in the end, he was lying across the bed on his back with you on top of him, resting you face against his t-shirt. You rose up your gaze at him and saw him staring at the ceiling with a blank expression, while his fingers never stopped drawing random patterns against your bare skin.

“You know, when I first got into this I was an awful dancer.”

“What?”

“Yeah, in comparison with Jongin or Sehun, there’s nothing I can do in terms of dancing even now. They were so much better than I was, and not just because of their natural talent. I’m a terrible dancer. My legs and arms feel too long to be controlled and collected as they are when they dance. All that you see now is the result of years of practice.”

“I have never been too self conscious about it because I trusted myself enough, but I remember there was this girl at the training centre who always made comments about my dancing. She was a bit older than I was and she used to tease me about it all the time. She wasn’t very nice.”

“Is she still mean?”

“Oh, maybe she is. I haven’t seen her in years, I ended up debuting with the guys but she never got to that point, despite the fact she had been training for years at that point.”

“That’ll serve her right,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, well. I try not to think a lot about it, because I can still hear her snickering while I performed.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” you hugged him softly from your position and his arms returned the favor around you.

“It’s okay. The thing about this is that I know how you feel. I know how hard it can be to face the world, expose what you have and to be confident enough that it’ll be good enough. But some people around us are more than willing to tear us down over our smallest mistakes, so it’s quite unfair that we do that to ourselves too. That’s what helped me get over it.”

“Yeah, but now you are a quite good dancer and get paid to do so! Why would I show something I know I am bad at?”

“Because you actually enjoy it! Allowing yourself to enjoy things is part of being kind to yourself, and that’s something you need to work on.”

You let out only a soft sigh as a response.

“You know you’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever been in my life, right?”

You propped your head up by resting your chin against his chest, looking him on, silently. His hand caressed your hair.

“Sometimes I have bad days too. Sometimes I’m sad or angry. Or frustrated, because I am not getting where I want to be. But then, I come home and see you around. Maybe you’re in the kitchen, or you’re working on your laptop, or playing with the dog. Doing whatever. Just by being there, you make my day brighter. You make me smile and laugh. You support me when I need to. You get me in ways barely no one else does and I get inspired by you daily.”

His confession left you speechless for a while. Of course, you knew you were in with Chanyeol for the long run. You’d gone through terrible enough times together when your relationship was made public, so now you weren’t going to give up and neither was him.

“You’re so beautiful and so good I don’t even care about other people anymore. Yeah, I have many beautiful friends and coworker. But they have nothing against you, doesn’t matter how much prettier you think they are. Besides, my grandma loves you very much despite your stellar introduction to the family; that can hardly be beat.”

A small tear managed to slide its way down your cheek when you closed your eyes and laughed wholeheartedly to the mention of his grandma, but he didn’t notice. Just seconds after he’d finished his speech, he’d sat up on the bed, kissed your forehead and started rummaging through the closet.

“Here, wear this one!”

He tossed you one of his older t-shirts, with the name of his group written on the back, worn out and soft, before stripping off his own work clothes and searching for more comfortable stuff.

“I’m a bit rusty lately, so it’s a good thing you were already working out, we can help each other.” You were still sitting on your bed, t-shirt in hand but in your underwear, not sure what to do. His head popped up behind one of the doors when he noticed you hadn’t moved and his eyes scanned up and down your poorly covered figure, with a cocky eyebrow raised and a smirk. “Or we could head into the shower and I could teach you some of the moves we do under artificial rain… but only if you want, of course…”

_________________________

A/N: It probably wasn’t made clear enough, but the song OC was dancing at the beginning would’ve been a BTS one, if those were included in the game, which I’m not sure of. BTS and Exo are not enemies and they probably even get on fairly well with each other, so take it just as a joke

Other Chanyeol shenanigans 

Holidays��  (OC/One Shot/Fluff-Smut)

Experimentation    (Chanbaek/One shot/Fluff-soft smut)

MASTERLIST!?

#exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo angst #exo smut #exo fluff #chanyeol #Park Chanyeol #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fanfictio #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol smut #kpop fanfiction #exo preference

[diazevan]

1. Let’s Hang Out Sometime “Shackled” 

Tony only has minutes to save Peter. 

AO3 Link

Tony could recall how chaotic his life had been, but not even taking on alien armies, with a team of elite superheroes, would mean as much to him, as his children did.

Morgan and Peter together, as sister and brother, deserved to be remembered, it was as beautiful as the Renaissance, because no photograph would ever capture Tony’s disbelief, whenever they darted into a room together.

Still, normal life carried on, whatever ‘normal’ meant.

Not many semiretired superheroes had adopted a self-sacrificing Spider-Kid, who managed to topple, head-first, into danger, without any real warning; Tony was sure he was the only one. He wouldn’t change anything though, even if the kid found a new way to almost give Tony a heart attack, every other week.

Tony was home alone, most weekdays, mindlessly doing paperwork for Pepper, or finishing household chores.

Selfishly, Peter was at school, Morgan was at Kindergarten, and everybody else was working.

Peter was in senior year, which meant, he was usually too busy to hang out with any of them, even after school. He’d even dropped a few patrol duties, to make sure he was concentrating on his upcoming tests. He didn’t stay over as regularly, as he used to, because more often than not, he was bunking over with Ned or MJ, desperately trying to ready themselves for the coming onslaught of standardized testing.

At night-time, Morgan started performing a bedroom ritual. She’d get out of bed, fifteen or so minutes after being read a story, sit on the floor outside her bedroom door, with her arms crossed. She’d pout, and sometimes even frown. Tony and Pepper would tell her to get back to bed, but their pleas would be ignored.

Morgan knew how to stand her ground.

Most nights they would ask her if she was thirsty, or if she wanted one of them to stay in her room until she was asleep. It never worked. Usually, she would fall asleep, waiting, and occasionally, she would stand down, when she got tired.

A silent protest, it seemed, but for what, they weren’t entirely sure. It wasn’t until Peter stopped over for a week when Morgan’s intentions become clear because she didn’t do when he was there.

She missed her brother.

‘Why didn’t you tell us that, Little Miss?’

‘Didn’t want you to worry.’

Oh, she was definitely her father’s daughter. He made sure to point out, that she could confide in him with anything, even if it was sad. He didn’t want her growing up, internalizing everything, he’d done that, and it sucked.

Morgan’s problem was a simple fix, they made sure Peter visited more often, on weekends, and every Wednesday afternoon, he collected her from Kindergarten; they’d go out for ice cream or waffles.

Tony was sprawled across his desk, with his face uncomfortably laid across a pile of paperwork that he was yet to get done, “Uhhh.” He groaned, “Fri, is it bedtime?”

“Bedtime is a social construct, Boss.”

“You—” He sat up, stretching his arms over his head, “You’ve been talking to Peter too much.”

A ringtone traveled around the office, and Tony’s computer screen lit up, Friday announced, “Incoming call from Morgan’s Kindergarten.”

Tony sat up straight, with narrowed eyes, he swiped his hand along, accepting the call, “Hello.”

“Mr. Stark—"

“Miss. Jenkins?” He raised an eyebrow, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.” She sighed, “Nobody has turned up to collect Morgan. I know these things can happen—”

Tony darted his eyes to the corner of his screen, to make sure he hadn’t skipped a day, but it was definitely Wednesday, “Peter is meant to collecting her today—” He interrupted, as his stomach dropped to his feet.

“Oh, of course.” Miss. Jenkins exclaimed, “Could something have come up and he forgot?”

Tony moved his hand across his screen and attempted to ring Peter’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail, “No, he’d never—”

The screen blinked, alerting him that he had another call waiting, from a blocked number.

“I—Something’s—” Tony rubbed the nape of his neck, “Uh, I’m gonna send somebody to pick Morgan up. Can you—” He stuttered, “Can you stay with her? Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” Her tone turned frantic, as had his, “Is everything okay?”

“I hope so.” He answered, before hanging up, but it was too late, the blocked number, had stopped calling, “Shit.”

“Boss, I have determined that May was the closest to Morgan, and I have instructed her to collect her.” Friday said, “She wants updates on Peter’s whereabouts pronto.”

Tony clambered out his chair, pacing, “Yeah, um—”

The piercing ring came again, but without having to be asked, Friday patched them through.

Tony crossed his arms across his chest, “Hello.” He barked, into the silence.

A familiar obnoxious sneer followed, “Anthony…”

Justin Hammer.

Fifteen years ago, he gave Ivan Vanko the ammunition to destroy innocent lives.

One of the lives that could have been claimed, happened to a young and undeniably brave, Peter Parker.

Tony lowered his voice, to a whisper, “Where’s my kid, Hammer?”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on-“ Hammer sung, “Can we catch up first?”

“No.”

Hammer hummed, “It feels like only yesterday, when I told your wife, that I was gonna make a problem for you.”

“Yeah?” Tony clenched his fists, by his sides, “I’m pretty sure you told her we were gonna be seeing you ‘real soon,’ but it’s been…” He chuckled gravely, “…What? Fifteen years.”

“In my defence, I was gone for five of those.”

“You make that sound like ten years is ‘real soon.’” Tony mocked, “I know, for a fact, you’re inside Maximum Facility – so, if you’re wasting my time—”

“Wasting your time?” Hammer laughed, “Is…your intern missing, Anthony?”

Tony learned that trick from Natasha, it was easy to get a bad guy to admit to their wrongdoings when you pretend to think that they are not the ones behind it.

Friday had traced Hammer’s call, and fortunately, he was still in jail, he was obviously using a burner phone, “Did Peter Parker forget to pick up your precious little daughter?”

“Where—”

Hammer shushed him, “You’ve got to applaud my brilliance, for I have outsmarted the guards and even you. From inside these walls, I’ve managed to pull off a…” He paused, “Tony Stark Heist. Let’s call it that. You took everything from me, and now I’ve taken part of your everything, from you.”

“Look—” Tony snarled, “Hammer, my kids have nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, but they do.” Hammer exclaimed, “I’m not a monster, don’t confuse me with that – Peter is at my Headquarters.”

“What?”

“I’m helping you.” He pointed out, “Peter Parker, is trapped inside, my Headquarters. The one your little Russian friend tore apart.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I love getting the last laugh.”

With that confession, he hung up.

“Friday—Can you—” Tony blurted, “Just get everybody!”

“On it, Boss.”

Tony pressed his chest, activating the nanotech suit; he rushed out, almost tearing the front door off its hinges.

He took the skies, concealing himself amongst the clouds. This was a trap, he’d be dumb not to see it, but Peter’s life was in danger, so logic had to be thrown aside.

Hammer Industries had closed down, following his downfall, but the Headquarters, stood unchanged. One of the only buildings that remained abandoned.

Tony landed, in what used to be the entranceway.

It was eerie, somehow, in a little over a decade, the building had aged, attributed to the graffiti on top of graffiti and nature was beginning the claim it back too.

Tony tore off the metal boards off the main entranceway, that had been put up to stop trespassers from entering, “Scan for life, Fri—” He found the door handle and made his way inside.

“One heat signature located.”

Blood rushed in his ears, he didn’t understand Hammer’s plan, but he knew it couldn’t be good, “Okay.”

He followed the schematics, towards the located heat signature.

It led him to a door, he rushed over, pulling it open, swiftly.

Peter’s voice screamed out, “Stop!”

Tony looked up, startled, “Kid—”  

Peter sat, in the center of the room, shackled to chair, by his ankles and arms. His face was a gallery of superficial cuts and bruises, “Don’t move.”

“Okay, okay—”

Tony eyeballed the chains that were holding Peter, they’d didn’t seem particularly sturdy, they looked old. If he needed to, Peter could potentially escape them, but the kid was dangerously still.

“Pete?”

Tony’s stomach lunged forward, he fought against the bile rising in his throat.

There was a bomb, strapped to the side of the chair. How original.

Peter slowly bend down, he shrieked, tears welling in his eyes, “The timer—it’s –it’s going—"

“Boss, I believe you tripped the system.”

“I know.” Tony retracted his mask, “I’m sorry, kiddo.” He rushed over, kneeling in front of him, “It must be rigged, with the door.”

They had 3 minutes and 45 seconds – nowhere near enough time for Tony to unscrew it all and cut out the correct wires.

Tony used the lasers, in his gauntlet to cut through the chains holding Peter down.

Peter breathed rheumatically, “I can’t move—” He cried, “It will—”

“I know—” Tony cupped Peter’s cheek, “Fri, what’s the blast radius?”

“3.7 miles. There are currently 2456 civilians, in immediate danger.”

Of course, Hammer made sure there was collateral, putting Peter in harm’s way wasn’t enough.

Tony planned, on the spot, “Roll out the Iron Legion and inform the local authorities.”

“On it.”

Peter leaned into Tony’s palm, he choked out a sob, “You need to go.”

Tony snapped his head up,  “Kid—"

“There’s no time, you’ve gotta get out—” Peter’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, “You know you can’t save me, this time, Mr. Stark.” He ducked his head, “There’s no point in throwing away your life…”

“Oh, kid…” He brushed tears off Peter’s cheek, with his thumb, “My Peter—”

Peter swallowed the lump, in his throat, “It’s okay.”

Tony leaned up, pressing a kiss on Peter’s forehead, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.”

Tony muttered, “You really don’t.” He quickly looped his hands under Peter’s arms, swiftly pulling him off the seat, he turned around, taking his place.

Peter yelped, swaying on his feet, trying to get used to the solid ground, “Tony!”

Tony managed a small smile.

Peter cried, with wide eyes, “You tricked me?”

Tony nodded, “Get ready to run, kiddo–” He cautioned, “—On my signal.”

Peter threw his hands out, “What signal?!”

“Friday.” Tony cleared his throat, “Initiate the ‘comfort blanket’ protocol.”

The front of the suit opened, and Tony clambered out of the chair.

“Now!” He grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him, out of the door.

Peter was limping, with a cry.

Tony locked an arm around him, lifting him off his feet.

As soon as they made it to the entrance, Tony leaped to the ground, shielding Peter in his arms.

The noise was deafening, but the blast wasn’t much.

“Wow.” Tony sighed, leaning his head on the concrete below, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Peter groaned, “Uh.”

“Hey there, kiddo.” He carefully helped Peter into a sitting position, “Never tell me that I can’t save you.” He bopped his nose, with his finger.

Peter bent forward, leaning his head on Tony’s arm, “What—” His voice cracked, “What is the comfort blanket protocol?”

Tony brushed his hands over the side of his undersuit, trying to get rid of a layer of grit, “Basically, the nanotech smothered the bomb and absorbed the blast.”

“That’s cool.”

Tony wrapped his arm around the kid, “And it worked.”

Peter laughed, “It’s you, of course, it did.”

“Ha.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Hm, I guess, maybe.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s temple, “Justin Hammer’s got nothing on me.”

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #let's hang out sometime #shackled #marvel #irondad fanfiction #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #justin hammer #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #irondad fic rec

[missjosie27]

Year 1 Part 9- One Ending, A New Beginning

Hello, friends!

This is the last chapter of Year 1 that I wrote. I sincerely hope you enjoy it and as always, please leave feedback or comments if you’d like:)

Year 2 will be coming soon! Probably within the week!

It took about as long as Merula said (the only thing she hadn’t lied to them about in their year of knowing her) but after about ten minutes the body bind curse had worn off and the three Gryffindor boys were back on their feet, albeit heavily disgruntled.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate Merula?” Rowan said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Hate doesn’t even begin to describe it,” David seethed, his hands curling into fists. His mind was practically spinning from the amount of animosity he felt towards her.

“Now I know the exact pain you saved me from when she was bullying me,” Ben groaned as he clutched his side. “Ugh, everything hurts.”

“Not as bad as she’s going to hurt after I’m through with her!” David declared, charging forward towards the door.

“Wait, David,” Rowan said, grabbing his arm. “Hold on a second. She’s still in there.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Merula would have found what she was looking for and left. She wouldn’t stick around. Something must have happened.”

In the midst of despising the first year Slytherin no one had considered that angle until now and it left the trio pondering for a moment.

“It might be too dangerous to go back in,” Ben said nervously. “We don’t know what’s in there.”

David considered that possibility, but two worse ones overrode any hesitation he had in entering the door. With his anger subsided slightly, he was able to assess the situation much clearer, however, he felt more determined than ever.

“True, but if Merula gets her hands on something really powerful who knows what she’ll do with it. Above all, we need to find more clues about my brother. I can’t turn down the chance to find out what happened to him.”

“I agree,” Rowan said pulling out his wand. “If it was my brother, I’d feel the same way. Plus, an all powerful Merula is not something I want to think about right now.”

“It’s settled then,” David said, following his best friend’s lead. “Are you with me?”

Rowan and Ben nodded as they approached the door once more. All or nothing, Merula or not, this was the first step to finding answers to so many questions.

Alohomora!

The door creaked open once more, allowing the Gryffindor trip to step inside and shut it behind them. However, the sight that greeted them was far from what they were expecting.

True, the chilly cold that emanated from the door was ten times worse on the inside, but far from witnessing an all powerful Merula, she was trapped up to her midsection in a block of ice. Indeed, everything in the room seemed to be encompassed by ice. It was small, only big enough for a handful of people and unremarkable other than the frozen entity that marked its interior.

“Merula?”

“What happened?”

Rowan on the other hand was laughing.

“And here I was thinking you got your hands on some ancient amulet. This is too good!”

“Get stuffed, K-Khanna!” Merula shouted though she struggled to contain her shivers. “This weird ice st-stuck me to the f-floor, and k-keeps spreading all over me!”

That was disturbing to say the least. Ice of that nature couldn’t be common even within the magical world at Hogwarts.

“It’s spreading all over the door too!” she cried, pointing a finger. “G-get me out of h-here before I j-jinx all three of you.”

“I don’t believe you’re in a position to be making threats,” David said, the full brunt of his sarcasm coming to bear. “But by all means keep acting like a prat.”

“Grant! Will you just turn around?!”

All three of them turned to see that ice was forming seemingly out of nowhere and spreading down the door, forming a thick, icy top layer that eventually glossed over the door handle. Rowan quickly moved to open the door again, but found it wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t get a good grip on it!” he said, panic in his voice. “The lock and handle are frozen shut.”

“What do we do?” Ben asked frantically. “How do we get out of here? I-I’m s-starting to feel the cold too, D-Dave.”

Resisting the urge to wrap his own body in his arms, David realized none of them would last very long in here if they couldn’t get out. They had to find a way and fast. But none of the spells they had learned could break or melt ice. There was only thing they could do.

“We have to knock this door down off its hinges,” he said aloud. “We can use the knockback jinx to try and break it.”

“Are you sure that’ll work?” Rowan asked.

“It has to, otherwise we’ll be frozen statues by the time anyone finds us in here.”

He took out his wand and motioned for Ben and Rowan to do the same. However, he couldn’t help but take a glance back at Merula. It had only been minutes before since the full concentration of his rage had been focused upon her, but seeing her trapped- weak, afraid, and completely helpless- caused his resolve to soften. With her wand laying on the ground, she had no way to free herself.

I can’t leave her here. No matter what she’s done.

“Brace yourself, Merula,” David said to her, aiming for her entrapped legs.

“W-what are you g-going to do?”

“Save your arse.”

Without waiting for her permission, he fired the knockback jinx.

‘Flipendo!’

It had the desired effect, sending Merula backwards into the wall, shattering her icy prison.

“Oww,” she moaned.

“For the record, you totally deserved that,” Rowan remarked.

David, however, walked up to her and offered his hand to pull her up.

“Not even someone like you deserves to die in here. We’re going to need every wand on hand to bust down that door.”

She began to protest but the Gryffindor cut her off.

“We can go back to being enemies later, okay? But this one time, I need you to work with me. Help us so you can get out of here.”

Appealing to her own sense of self preservation did the trick as Merula reluctantly took his hand, grabbed her wand and jumped to her feet.

The foursome, briefly united in their desire not to end up in an early grave aimed at the door.

“On three,” David told them. “Fire with everything you got. One, two, THREE!”

A chorus of ‘Flipendo!’ rang out as four jets of light hit the door simultaneously, sending it clean off its hinges and onto the ground. They were free.

Merula immediately bolted without so much as a thank you, but Rowan hung back for a second, puzzling the other two boys.

“Rowan let’s go!”

“Wait, Dave. Look!”

He pointed up at a series of symbols and markings on the top corner of the wall.

“It’s the same language we saw on the golden brick outside of the door. I need to write this down.”

Rowan quickly pulled out a piece of paper, copying it down while Ben urged them to hurry.

“Filch is going to be here any second! Someone will have heard that noise!”

“Just a sec…got it!”

With barely any time left to spare, the Gryffindor trio ran as fast as they could, away from Mrs. Norris, Filch, Snape, or anyone else who could have possibly been alerted to the presence of a busted down door. They didn’t stop until they reached the common room, not even bothering to hide the noise they made whilst they hurried to their dormitories.

There were many more questions buzzing in David’s head as he jumped into bed and attempted to pretend he had the ability to sleep after what happened. But the questions could wait.

Presently, not getting expelled was more than enough consolation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To the surprise of everyone involved from that night, almost nothing came of the incident. David had fully expected a visit from Professor McGonagall or Snape or someone about breaking into (quite literally) the mysterious door and a lengthy detention sentence that would lead into the next year. Even more shockingly, Merula kept to herself during their classes, only occasionally throwing out a barb or insult. She wasn’t stupid, any mouthing off on her part about the vaults would only serve to get her in trouble as well.

And so, life went on and the routine of Hogwarts returned. Exams were coming up and most of the student body settled into a quiet lull, especially the older students, who’s careers depended on their following results. Rowan in particular was adamant about focusing on their studies, constantly quizzing them on various spellwork, facts, and numbers. It became so intense, that even Ben was bold enough to suggest they should take a break from the library and actually eat a meal.

The routine wasn’t to last long, however. There was one last bludger to be thrown before the year was out, and it came in the form of Professor Dumbledore.

In the midst of eating dinner per Ben’s suggestion, their meal of shepherd’s pie (and a retelling of story about one of Charlie’s younger brothers) was interrupted by Angelica.

“David,” she said to him. “We need to talk.”

Swallowing a mouthful of pie, he gazed up at her.

“About what?”

“Did you try and enter that door on the 13th corridor?”

His stomach immediately lost any desire for food as it felt like a stone dropped in the middle of it.

“Maybe this can wait until later? This is a pretty good pie, if I do say so myself. And Charlie was in the middle of a joke so…”

“You have a comeback for everything, don’t you?”

“It’s where I get my dashing charm.”

Angelica looked as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or scream, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re incorrigible, you know that? To think I’ll be your prefect for the next two years.”

“Imagine how fun that will be.”

“David, I know you think this is all hilarious,” she said, putting her arms on the table and giving him a piercing look. “But whether you care or not you represent Gryffindor, just like your brother did. Risking that representation is a poor way to go about your time here at Hogwarts.”

“I don’t know what you heard,” the first year answered back. “But it’s rumor.”

“You blasted down a door,” she shot back. “It’s not exactly a huge mystery that someone was in there.”

Sighing, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you or punish you. I’m actually just a messenger. But I do want you to know that your house and everyone else in it matters. Not just you.”

David took the letter from her and recognized its seal- that of the Headmaster.

“Dumbledore wants to see you. He didn’t say why so don’t ask. But you better hope it’s nothing serious.”

He opened it straight away and saw a neat message inscribed:

Dear David,

I should like to speak with you tonight in the courtyard as soon as you are done with dinner. Please ensure you are alone as I would like our chat to be private. I look forward to seeing you then.

Sincerely,

Professor Dumbledore

In truth, David felt quite uneasy about the prospect of a one on one with the Headmaster, but he also had no choice. The most powerful wizard in Britain was not someone you could avoid or runaway from like Snape or Filch. He did, however, have one more thing to say to his prefect.

“Whatever you think of me, Angelica, know this. I’m not just here for myself, you can ask anyone at this table about how much I care about Gryffindor, my brother, my family. They’ll tell you.”

Ben, Rowan, and Charlie each nodded and that seemed to put Angelica more at ease.

“Okay,” she said approvingly. “I’ll hold you to that. You’d best be off now, you don’t want to keep Dumbledore waiting.”

Let’s get this over with

“Good luck,” Rowan said to him, while Ben smiled, and Charlie gave a thumbs up. Somehow, it was inspiring and that was not an emotion that he was intimate with. Even should he be punished; he knew his house had his back and he had theirs.

Deciding it was best to heed his prefect for once, David got up from the bench, and headed towards the Courtyard.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sure enough, the eccentric wizard was there when David finally arrived in the courtyard. Wearing blue robes with stars on them, they complimented the atmosphere rather well, as the first dots of light began to emerge in the evening sky. Approaching slowly, he figured Dumbledore knew he was there, but as of yet made no movement or indication of it, keeping his head towards the heavens.

When the Headmaster did acknowledge him for the first time, it was a warm, friendly greeting, almost grandfatherly in a way.

“Thank you for meeting with me, David.”

The first year Gryffindor wasn’t entirely sure what to say, but he figured it was best to at least be humble and not try and pull any funny business with Dumbledore.

“Of course sir, I just wanted to say that-”

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” the old man interrupted, returning his gaze to the stars.

“Sir?”

“The quiet night, the calm air of spring with the promise of summer ahead- it truly puts your troubles into perspective doesn’t it?”

David had no idea where he was going with this but decided not to question it.

“I suppose so.”

“I oftentimes come here when I need to make an important decision.”

Perhaps a decision about his time at Hogwarts thus far? It wouldn’t have surprised David if Dumbledore was pondering that topic as they spoke.

“My prefect said you needed to see me, but she didn’t specify what. I assumed it was everything that’s happened this year- the dueling, fighting werewolves, the cursed ice…”

He trailed off as the Headmaster took a long look at him through his half moon spectacles. He did not look angry, however.

“Perhaps you were expecting a lecture or a far worse punishment?” he asked aloud. “But I sense you have just as many questions about what has happened so far.”

David realized that he was allowing him a freebee to ask whatever he desired, a fact he failed until realize until now as the words came spilling out.

“Sir, what are these cursed vaults? And why was my brother so obsessed with them? Do you have any idea where he is?”

A whole year had led up to this moment, but perhaps constantly avoiding the subject of his brother had been unhealthier than previously realized. In any case, Dumbledore did not look surprised.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much more than you do on the subject of the vaults,” he explained. “I have been seeking out an expert on the subject myself. Some say that they were created by a powerful sorcerer who was a student during the days of the Founders, others say Salazar Slytherin used them to hide his immense treasures and secrets. Perhaps they originate with the school itself. One cannot be certain, but as you’ll find, Hogwarts holds many secrets.

“As for your brother, his disappearance has baffled even me. He came across the vaults as a second year and his efforts to prove they existed resulted in several dangerous incidents that forced my hand, unfortunately. I do not want to damper your impression of him, however, he was an excellent student and quite the keen mind. Jacob was quite popular with the staff and most of the students, but I have guessed that he was led astray by someone or something along the way.”

“My brother, for all his feats was…complicated,” David said quietly. “He was always good to me, but there was a lot more happening with him than he let on.”

“Much of which you are just finding about now,” Dumbledore added with a small nod. “It is not easy being apart from a sibling. It is something I can highly empathize with.”

“This whole thing…this whole year has been one giant mystery.”

“Indeed, Hogwarts itself can be considered a mystery. But I expect you to learn more in the coming years of your time here.”

David breathed out, as Dumbledore’s words sunk in, implying he was not about to be kicked out, which had been a very real prospect coming into this meeting.

“Sooo….I’m not going to be expelled?”

Dumbledore’s gaze was slightly stern but there was still the hint of his usual twinkling in his blue eyes.

“You have made many mistakes this year, David. But you have also demonstrated great compassion, resourcefulness, and courage. As I say to many of my students, it is the choices we make that truly define who we are underneath. From what I can observe, you are quite the talented young wizard and Hogwarts is better off with your presence. I believe you have earned Gryffindor one hundred points.”

David could hardly believe his ears, the revelation that he was not expelled consuming most of his happiness at the extra points.

“Thank you, Professor!”

“You are welcome. Though I daresay it does not erase the poor drubbing the Gryffindor Quidditch team took at the hands of Ravenclaw.”

David scoffed. “We’d need a thousand house points to erase that deficit.”

Dumbledore gave a booming laugh, one that resonated across the courtyard.

“Indeed, there is that famous sense of humor you possess. I look forward to six more years of it, the wizarding world suffers for the want of a good joke often times.”

The first year Gryffindor knew that his time with the Headmaster was winding down, but his mind still burned with questions.

“Sir, thank you for everything. But can we talk more about my brother and the vaults?”

Dumbledore nodded, the full twinkling in his eyes returning.

“We can and we will. Next year,” he said. “In the meantime, I believe you have final exams to attend and a feast to prepare for. I do hope you have a good summer holiday.”

Gesturing with his robe, the Headmaster indicated for him to be on his way and David obliged, heading back to the Great Hall to finish up his shepherd’s pie (if Charlie hadn’t finished it by now). There was much to do, and he wasn’t sure what would come next. But one thing he was sure of: he couldn’t wait for the next year to start.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The inevitable day arrived as the students took their luggage down to Hogsmeade station to depart back to London where their families and friends waited for them. Many were saying their goodbyes already as a sea of crimson, yellow, blue, and green interacted and chatted away while preparing the board the train.

“I can’t believe how fast it went,” Rowan said as he lifted his luggage into the compartment.

“Me neither,” David agreed. “Before you know it, we’ll be seventh years rowing back across the lake at graduation.”

“Don’t even say that!” Rowan shuddered. “I still have six more years of academics to go, Dave. I’ll have to do everything I can to become the youngest Professor in Hogwarts history. There’s not enough time.”

“I’m taking the mickey,” David laughed. “Relax, mate. We got plenty of time. Just you wait, there’s a lot ahead of us and we’re going to see it all.”

“You’ll definitely need more than seven years then,” Charlie interjected, joining their space. “Have you seen how huge this place is? Loads of people come through without learning half of what goes on here.”

“Personally, I’d be fine with that,” Ben added, the last to join their space. “Better safe than sorry.”

“It’s not Hogwarts without a little adventure, Ben,” David said with a wink, his good mood having been sustained the past few weeks. True, Gryffindor had only placed third in the house cup, but at least Ravenclaw had pulled out all the stops to take down Slytherin. It saved him the agony of seeing Merula brag with the rest of the snakes.

“I’ve had enough adventure for a lifetime really,” the blonde boy muttered but a friendly pat on the back from David was enough to induce a small grin from him.

“Just you wait. By the time this thing ends, you won’t be afraid of anything.”

Charlie took a glance at his watch.

“I gotta go find Bill for a second. Also don’t worry about Jae, he’s off selling the last of his merchandise before the train leaves.”

Before the three other boys could get comfortable, however, Rowan slapped his forehead.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Dave.”

He quickly took out a random piece of paper, the same one he had used to jot down the message inside the door with the cursed ice.

“I did a little digging after we broke down that door. Took me awhile, but I finally managed to decipher what was on top of the archway.”

This was certainly news to David, who had desired more answers after his talk with Dumbledore.

“You’re joking. What does it say? What was it?”

“I found on obscure book about ciphers and ancient languages. It’s Aramaic, probably goes back a thousand years. It says, ‘The Ice Knight stands guard past the vanished stairs.’”

This newfound information was both welcoming and also frustrating to the young Gryffindor. As opposed to answering questions it gave rise to new ones? What was the ice knight? And where were these vanished stairs?

“It’s not much to go off of but it’s a start,” David sighed.

“I’ll do more research over the summer,” Rowan told him. “I’ll have plenty of time too. Plus you know how much I love to read.”

“I can learn some more spells, too,” Ben offered. “I know it’s not much but…”

Rowan and David looked at each other, failing to stifle a grin, causing Ben to look alarmed.

“What? Oh God, did I say something stupid?”

“It’s alright, mate,” David explained. “I guess no one told you but we’re not allowed to do magic outside of school.”

“Yup, or else you get your wand snapped.”

The blonde boy sighed.

“This crazy world is just full of surprises isn’t it?”

“Too right, my friend. And there are far more awaiting for us when we’re second years.”

“Wonderful.”

The train soon whistled, signaling its imminent departure. The last of the students climbed aboard and they were off.

As Rowan, Ben, and Charlie set up a game of exploding snap, David gazed outside at the fields and hills that began to roll past, both confident and anxious about the future. In his heart, he knew the mysteries of Hogwarts had only just began.

#fanfiction #hogwarts mystery #hphm #david grant #rowan khanna #ben copper #merula snyde #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #gryffindor #slytherin

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Possessed: A Jacksepticeye Fan Fiction

Part One: Broken Spells

Read the theory it’s based on | Read the prequel | Next part

Summary: On Halloween night 2017, Marvin decides to wander aimlessly about the city to relax. Instead, he finds a new threat—or perhaps a new friend...

Never written fan fiction before, so I hope you enjoy! ^.^ Beware, it turned out pretty long.

“Is Chase doing okay?” Marvin asked, speaking into the phone.

“He’s hanging in there,” Jackie replied on the other end. “A little upset ‘cause he can’t take the kids trick-or-treating, but there’s not much to do there. You busy?”

Marvin snorted. “If that’s some half-assed way to ask me to come help babysit with you, it’s not gonna work.”

“It’s not babysitting!” Jackie yelled. “It’s called ‘hanging out with a friend who needs company!’”

“Yeah, well, I have plans.”

“Doing what?”

“Things.”

“Marvin I swear to god, if you’re blowing me off for no reason I’ll sneak up on you while you’re sleeping and relocate you to the roof of the highest building in the city. You’ll wake up and be hanging off the damn edge.”

“Have fun babysitting,” Marvin laughed, then hung up.

In truth, he did have plans. But he didn’t think the hero would see them as important. Jackie was the type of person who cared violently about his friends, and spent every moment of free time he had with at least one of them. Marvin was not like that. Every so often, he needed some time to relax, to think.

Halloween night. The one time when the magician could go out in full costume—mask, cape, wand and all—and not get any weird looks. For all anyone knew, he was on his way to a party. But no. Marvin just enjoyed wandering the city and exploring new areas. He also happened to like wearing his costume. So why not combine the two?

He stopped, leaning against a fence, and observed his surroundings. He’d made his way to the suburbs. This was actually very near Chase’s house, so if he wanted he could join Jackie in whatever it was the hero was doing. Children in cheap costumes were running about, followed by semi-enthusiastic parents, waving flashlights and bags of candy. “Nice mask, mister!” a girl in an astronaut costume called. Marvin smiled. “Nice helmet!” he called back. The girl laughed, but her mother standing behind her glared. No doubt suspicious of grown men dressed in dark capes. Marvin decided it was best to move on.

Not two minutes later, a boy ran straight into him, sending candy everywhere. “Sorry, sir,” the boy said.

“No no, it’s fine,” Marvin assured him. “Here, I’ll help.” He stooped, picking up bars of chocolate from where they’d fallen. He looked at the child, ready to hand them over, only to freeze. A white coat, a stethoscope, blue scrubs—was he seeing things?

The boy frowned. “Um, mister?”

Marvin blinked a couple times. The kid was just wearing a costume. Nothing more. “Sorry,” he said. Then smiled, “I think I just saw a ghost.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Marvin gave the boy back his candy. “You have to be careful running around on Halloween.”

“Alright!” The boy gripped his flashlight tighter, blinking it on and off as if to show he was prepared. Then he darted away.

Marvin sighed, setting off again. He was seeing ghosts, just not in the way the kid had thought.

It had been nearly three months since Schneeplestein had disappeared. Three months since the operation on Jack had failed, leaving him in a coma. Three months of Jackie pushing himself to the limit trying to find an answer. Three months of Chase slowly spiraling downward into a black hole of depression. Three months of Marvin himself just getting by any way he can.

They all knew something was off. Something beyond ordinary. But none of them knew what exactly it was. Marvin suspected some sort of black magic, but who would have a grudge against any of them?

Gradually, Marvin realized he was in an area of the city he’d never been to before. The buildings around him were tall and narrow, the architecture decades out of fashion. But...music was coming from somewhere. Marvin struggled to remember the word...ragtime. That was it. Tinny-sounding ragtime music was coming from somewhere nearby. Listening, Marvin followed the sound to one of the houses. He stopped outside the gate. Why would music be coming from here?

“Dude, you don’t want to be going in there.”

Marvin whirled around. A pair of teenagers had managed to sneak up on him: a boy and girl, dressed like a vampire and werewolf respectively. No doubt a couple on their way to a party. “Why not?” Marvin asked.

“It’s supposed to be, like super haunted,” the boy explained. “Some old film star used to live there, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances. People think he was killed and that his ghost hangs out there.”

The girl sniffed dismissively. “Of course, there are lots of perfectly normal reasons to not go tramping through some wreck. It’s condemned. You could fall through the floor and break your neck.”

“Really?” Marvin muttered. “What’re you two doing here then?”

“Shortcut,” the boy said, shrugging. “Anyway, if you want to go in, whatever. It’s your life. Or soul. Bye, dude.” The teens walked away.

Marvin turned back to the house. . He believed in ghosts, of course. It would be hard not to believe in the supernatural when you had real magic flowing through your veins. But the question was, would he rather take a risk with a possibly vengeful spirit, or walk away never having seen a ghost?

“Fuck it,” Marvin said out loud. Curiosity killed the cat after all. He vaulted over the locked gate and crept up the path to the house’s door, following the sound of the music.

The door creaked when Marvin eased it open. Inside, there was a hall with three doors leading off, each one ajar. A rickety old staircase led up to a second floor. Holes in the ceiling revealed wooden beams. The floor was littered with broken bits of unidentifiable trash. Everything was silent except for the sound of the music, louder now, coming from upstairs.

Cautiously, Marvin climbed the stairs, each step creaking beneath his feet. Reaching the second floor, he saw a similar hall to the one downstairs, minus the steps. The music was coming from the second door on the left. Dodging holes in the floor, Marvin made his way toward it.

He opened the door, hinges groaning loudly, and peered inside. The room was empty, save for a few old-fashioned armchairs and a small table. A phonograph sat on top of the table, its needle tracing a path on a spinning record.

Marvin found his hand instinctively straying to his wand. He pushed the room’s door all the way open, eyes darting left and right, looking for anything unusual. Slowly, he took a step toward the phonograph. Then another. When nothing happened, he half-ran the rest of the way there.

The phonograph kept playing, its ragtime music oddly happy considering the run-down ruin surrounding it. Looking around one last time, Marvin reached out and took the needle off the record, stopping the music.

Silence.

“Huh,” Marvin said. He’d expected more. Sighing, he turned back to the open door.

Except it was no longer open.

Marvin blinked. “Now, that’s more like it,” he muttered. For a split second, the world seemed to break in two, a red photo negative appearing out of nowhere before immediately disappearing. It was barely anything, but accompanying it was an overwhelming sense of nausea, causing Marvin to double over to keep from vomiting. When he straightened up, a figure appeared before him, only to blink out of existence just as quickly.

An uneasy feeling crept over the magician as he drew his wand, spells running through his head. Behind him, the ragtime started up again, slowed and distorted. It wasn’t particularly threatening, just a little creepy. But still, something in Marvin screamed at him to get out, that there were forces here he couldn’t take on by himself.

“All right, you damn ghostie,” Marvin called. “Why don’t you stop being a fucking coward and show yourself?”

The room seemed to tilt beneath his feet, and Marvin stumbled. The world seemed to break again, afterimages of people appearing in red. Color drained from the room, and the music became unrecognizable, punctuated by whispers. Marvin fought the urge to vomit once again, swallowing hard.

The figure appeared before him again, closer this time, before vanishing. Marvin spun around, looking for where it had gone.

It reappeared, right in front of him. Before the magician could even raise his wand to defend himself, hands reached out and grabbed him by the neck. And squeezed hard.

“Arck,” Marvin choked. He grabbed his attacker by the wrists, struggling to pull away, but the figure held on with inhuman strength. Marvin stumbled back, but black spots were already appearing in his vision. A strange laugh seemed to be echoing through his mind, hoarse and strangled like it was being forced through a throat that hadn’t made sound in years.

One more try, Marvin decided. He threw his head back violently and stepped backwards, pulling his attacker with him. But his foot found nothing to land on, and he fell through the floor, landing with a crash.

Groaning, Marvin climbed to his feet. He’d landed in what looked like a study, with a decrepit desk and chair to match. “Well, I’ve had enough,” Marvin said, his voice hoarse. As if responding, the world around him flickered, his surroundings changing to a parlor, to a kitchen, to a bedroom. The magician almost fell to his knees as the feeling of nausea returned, accompanied by a pounding headache and dizziness.

Shaking his head to clear it, Marvin ran to the door and yanked it open, only for it to be slammed shut. The mad, strange laughter rang again. “Shut the fuck up!” Marvin yelled, raising his wand. A blast of green energy erupted from the end, blowing the door open. Before it could close again, Marvin darted through, emerging into the second floor hall.

He had to get out. He’d had his supernatural experience, and he'd hated it. He ran to the stairs, keeping his wand out in front of him for defense. He reached the top step and started down.

The world broke again, red and green afterimages swimming in front of his eyes. He teetered on the edge. All it took was one tiny push...

Marvin tumbled down the stairs, every inch of his body aching by the time he reached the bottom. Somehow, he’d kept hold of his wand. Using the banister, he pulled himself upright.

“Alright, you demon ghost bitch,” Marvin said through gritted teeth. “You want a fight? I’ll give you one. So come out and face me, you dickwad!”

More laughter. The figure appeared and walked toward him, leaving red afterimages with every step it took. Marvin held his wand tight. When the figure was close enough to see its black eyes, the magician brought his wand upward with a yell, pointing it toward the being.

Green flames tinged with purple exploded with a roar, consuming the figure, burning its essence. A scream pierced Marvin’s mind, seeming not to come from the figure but from everywhere. But the magician didn’t waver, keeping up the magic until he was drained of energy and collapsed to his knees.

Struggling to stay conscious, Marvin reflected on what had just happened. Using black magic flames had been a risky maneuver, but black magic was far more powerful than the regular kind. Unfortunately, it came with heavy consequences. Marvin had barely recovered from the last time he’d used it, but given the choice between consequences or death, he’d take the former.

Something stirred in front of him, and Marvin started, raising his wand. The figure had fallen to the floor with him, but something was...different. The heavy weight he’d felt since he’d entered the house had disappeared. Using the minimal amount of magic, Marvin conjured a small, green witch light.

The figure before him was a man, about average height but more slender than considered normal. His brown hair was hidden underneath a black hat, and a curly mustache adorned his face. He wore a blue vest and a bow tie. When he looked up at Marvin, his eyes were not solid black like they had been, but instead baby blue.

“Um, hi?” Marvin said.

The man scrambled back, eyes widening in fear. His head darted about, taking in the surroundings.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Marvin said. “You’re okay.” He reached forward to help, though he didn’t know how, only for the man to back away. The magician stopped. “So, uh, what’s your name?” he asked.

The stranger shook his head. He tapped his throat with his hand.

“Ah, I see,” Marvin said, his confusion growing. “You, uh, can’t talk. Well...” Marvin glanced around. Was...was the threat gone? But...the threat had been this man...what was going on? “Um, my name is Marvin. I’m magic, as you can probably tell. Uh...d’you—do you want any help?”

The man hesitated, then nodded once.

Marvin stood up, legs trembling beneath him. “Fuck, too much magic,” he hissed under his breath. He held out his hand again. The man paused before taking it and allowing Marvin to hoist him up. Once he’d gotten to his feet, he immediately collapsed straight into Marvin.

“Whoa, buddy,” Marvin said. “I can’t hold you up. We’ll have to help each other.” 

The two managed to stay upright by leaning on each other. Marvin could feel the other man’s uneven heartbeat and shaky breathing. What had happened to him?

“I have a friend who lives nearby,” Marvin said. “We’re gonna head there, okay?” He waited for the other man to nod in agreement before stumbling out of the house, leaving the ruins behind them.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jameson jackson #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #antisepticeye #possessed jj fic #brigid writes fanfiction

[drunkdragondoes]

Prompt: Rock AU, Qrowin smut featuring their first time together.

@spinningfractals ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“Don’t panic, Winter.”

“Qrow, I need to get from Patch to the capital of Vacuo in two days for the meeting. The airship is down for maintenance and my car, the planned method, just got totaled. How can I not panic?”

“Easy - you take my ride and pretend it’s yours while you’re there.”

“You need your car. I can’t just take that from you.”

“Whoa now - who said you’ll be taking that piece of junk with you?”

---

It was a Corvid7, a luxury sports car that was a benchmark of quality. They were up to the eighth edition now, but the seventh was still recent and thus nothing to scoff at. Winter would have lied if she didn’t recognize the brand and shape of the car. Iconic was a better term for it. She had her suspicions from the numerous times she had seen the tarp covering something in the garage as they discussed upgrades and costs to the airship. Its shape always loomed in the corner, sometimes surrounded by small pieces of equipment or other tools, as if it was waiting to be unveiled in front of her.

So when Qrow walked up to the tarp and pulled it off, she couldn’t help but take in a deep breath. Low to the ground with a dark red coat of paint and convertible top, she had seen these cars zooming around when she was still with her father.

“We found this girl at a crushing lot and we restored it together, engine and all. It was supposed to be a surprise gift to her for completing her apprenticeship, not that she needed it of course,” she watched as his hands gently drifted across the metal, almost talking more to the car than to her. “But then she got fueled up on restoring her own car, so I just helped her fund that instead.” His hand slowly fell back to his side, the sheen of the metal reflecting off onto his shirt. “And now we’ve just got this bad girl rearing to go.”

There was a jingle of keys and Winter could feel the pulse in her fingertips, the swallow of her throat before he spoke again. “Ruby and I already gave it some pretty extensive tests and it’s all green.” When she looked up, Qrow was staring her in the eye, that same smile, that inviting grin that sold her on the first set of airship upgrades from a year ago. “She’s made a few day trips here and there ‘to the farm’ as Ruby told me, but nothing like a trip from here to Vacuo. What do you think about giving her a good spin?”

He tossed her the keys, and she nearly dropped it before fumbling together a catch at her waist. “Are… Are you sure?”

“Well,” his smile grew a bit wider, “you’re certainly not saying no to the car, right?”

Having a car would be really nice right about now. Having a car meant that she wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place. She wouldn’t have to be indebted to her business partner, of whom she constantly had to remind herself that they were just that - business partners. A wholesome, respectable man.

But she couldn’t think like this - not now when the moment was two days aways. She couldn’t afford to.

“Wh-What if it gets damaged, though?” she stuttered, a rarity in the face of anything else. “I mean, when my car - it was entirely by chance, but it could happen again.”

He walked up to her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder and turned her towards the vehicle. “I know exactly how you feel. But tonight, just take her for a spin.” It was warm. “Imagine the cylinders pulling you through your turns. You’re listening to your own music, and then you hit the straightaways and you go. The whole road is open to you, and you can go wherever you want, take however long you want to get there. You’re in control.”

She gulped, feeling her own skin turn hot. “Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Just keep thinking that the road is at your fingertips. And when you get to Vacuo, you sell your brand like it’s worth the world.”

---

Just a loud girl with nowhere to go

The way the engine seemed to echo throughout the car was intense. Her old vehicle was modest, economy-class with just enough things to keep her satisfied. A seat that was firm enough and could be manually slid back and forth. A radio and CD player that worked. A collapsing cup holder that was just large enough to fit a good cup of coffee.

Screamin’ at the world like no tomorrow

But this car. Oh, what a bad girl she was.

Heated leather seats that just carved into all the right places. It could connect with her scroll, meaning that she could listen to the best of her favorite songs. And it came with a solid cutout specifically to put fit her beverage of choice - it wasn’t something that was thrown in where it fit but planned from the very start.

Just a loud girl, got nothin’ to hide

It was everything she wanted in a car and more. It was comfortable, and it could go fast. Really fast. Speed limits were still a thing on the highway, but the sheer horsepower behind the acceleration was something else. It made her want to race every last car on the road. It made her confident enough to win it all.

Got everythin’ I need right at my side

When it was time for the meeting and she finally pulled up at the record label headquarters from the hotel and stepped out of the car, the valet attendant’s jaw was on the floor. He fumbled through papers and pens and signatures as she stared at him through her sunglasses.

And when it finally came to handing over the keys, she leaned over the desk. The rim of her lenses dipped low, like in the movies. “Don’t scratch her up.”

Weiss and Yang worked hard to put the band here, to put Winter here. Long nights working on lyrics, early mornings practicing vocals and chords and tunes on their guitars. It was time to return the favor, and she felt like she was worth millions.

---

The trip back to Patch was different. Where she had blasted down the road to Vacuo, the sense of urgency was gone and it was just a slow ride back. Where she was previously charged up and ready, here she was relaxed and thoughtful.

And as she drove back, her mind returned to the real owner of the car. As much as she did enjoy driving it, she had to give it back eventually. But even more so, she found herself realizing that as much as she was the primary one responsible for getting the deal signed, the heavy boost of confidence was a direct result of Qrow’s contribution to the effort. She was sure that she still would have landed the signing, but had her car situation gone differently Winter doubted that they would have gotten as much as they did.

Two hundred million lien was a lot of money. Even as she pulled into Qrow’s garage late in the night and parked the car right where she drove it off from, it still surprised her. She owed him, in a sense. And in that same sense, she owed herself something as well. For the past few years, she wanted her sister to succeed more than anything else. Not everything was as easy as it was now, where they had a decent brand name built up. There were some days where Winter struggled to even just finish the day - repeated rejections and unreturned voicemails left her exhausted.

Qrow’s suggestion of the airship opened a door for them. An unusual door, but a door nonetheless. And even then, she had to keep up her energy to walk through it. She really owed it to herself to take a rest and not worry about things for a little while.

Reaching for the door handle, it still felt unreal to pull and unlatch the door and she remained seated. Two hundred million lien. No more cold calling or scouring for venues to play at.

And maybe she could finally have some time for just herself.

“I can see your smile, you know.” Qrow’s voice came in through the opening and she looked up. He was smiling too. “How’d it go?”

“You know I can’t tell you yet, right?”

His grin only grew wider. “So it’s good news then.”

Her arms folded across her chest, hands tucking against her arms and plain blue blouse. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you if it was bad news either.”

“You’re still smiling, you know.”

Winter clicked her tongue, brushing a strand of hair away from her face and doing her best to sound as annoyed as possible. “Fine then. If you must know then I may or may not be receiving a sum of money from a non-descript record label.”

“So good enough, then. Congratulations.” His eyes fell to the car, “How’s the girl? She treat you right?”

She had still yet to step out of the vehicle. It wasn’t a living being - just a cold metal body that had served its purpose. But it had given her a lot of confidence. She felt like it radiated a power that spread into her. She could really do anything she wanted right now.

“Yeah, she did.” Taking a heavy breath, she stepped out of the car and closed the door. “I certainly wouldn’t mind having her around.”

“Glad you like her.” He head nudged towards his office. “You up for a drink?”

“That would be good,” she reached for her scroll, moving to lean against the car. “Could you bring a glass for me? I need to send some quick messages.”

He started walking back, tossing a quick look over his shoulder. “Heh, sure thing Ice Queen.”

As her scroll came out and the screen lit up, her eyes traced up to his retreating figure. Tall and just a bit lean, it wasn’t the first time let her eyes linger upon him. But more important was the fact that she trusted him. From the airship to advice to everything else, she had realized early on that she found herself hinging upon his words. She didn’t always agree with them (hardly ever, it seemed), but there was something valuable in his ability to bring up different points.

The light from her scroll went dark and she retapped it again to awaken it. She was greeted by a picture of Weiss, the band, her, and Qrow standing at the newly completed airship.

It was worth a try, wasn’t it?

“Alright!” Qrow’s body re-entered her vision, his back leaning against the car. He came out with two small glasses and a bottle of whiskey (the good one, she noticed), sliding one of the small cups into her hand. Twisting the cap off, he gently poured a shot of the brown liquid into her glass first before giving himself a slightly larger serving. “Cheers.”

Their glasses clinked together, and when she pulled it towards herself, she tilted her head back and let the liquid burn down her throat. When she let her head slide back forward, she saw that he was looking at her from the side of her eye.

“You usually don’t drink that fast.” His glass hadn’t been touched yet.

“You know,” she set the glass down on a workbench before looking back at him, “I think I want to get drunk.”

“In that case, here,” he handed his cup to her. “If you’re gonna get drunk, someone’s gotta drive you back after all.”

As she reached forward, she looked up into his red eyes and then back down to the amber liquid. Her hands brushed against his, lingering for just a moment longer than she expected herself to. But she eventually pulled back and downed the glass just as quickly.

And before he could voice a complaint and before she could lose her wits, she slid herself from the car to his front and kissed him. Not a peck, but with nothing fancy either. Just a kiss, one that required her to get on her toes for a little bit.

Qrow didn’t say anything at first, and there was a small flash of panic within her. But neither did he push her away. There was no motion to stop her body as she began to bring her full weight against him, claiming his half-parted lips once again and reaching deep into them.

Thank goodness for the car behind their bodies. With the way their legs were twisting against each other, there was no way that they could have supported themselves. When she pulled back, she was staring into his red eyes.

She couldn’t remember when she last kissed anyone.

“So uh…” he licked his lips, head turning a little to the side. “I guess this mean you’re okay with me asking you out on a date, then?”

The alcohol from the drinks shouldn’t have begun to kick in yet - it was too soon for that. But it added to the heat in her stomach and it was enough. “Maybe another time.” She could begin to feel him through her clothes, the hardening length pressing into her thighs. “We can worry about formalities later,” she said, beginning to undo the buttons of her blouse to reveal the simple bra beneath it. “Just give it to me tonight.”

It was a blunt approach, but she didn’t need to be fancy when Qrow just admitted that he had a thing for her. And with a lot of lien behind her, that was something she could afford to do.

The first thing she did after kissing him again was fumble at his belt. He didn’t need any additional encouragement, and she felt her body shiver as his hand traced up her stomach. He wasted no time, tongue lashing against hers and fingers sliding under her bra and pushing it up. It was a greedy touch, kneading and grasping, the lukewarm chill of the rings on his fingers softly biting at her skin.

It made her want more. With his belt undone, her hand quickly ducked in and wrapped around his length. Winter gave a squeeze, and his hiss was like music. Leaning back from his lips, she hooked his pants and slid them down just enough to release his member and stroke.

“Mov-... Moving pretty fast I see,” he said through a heavy breath..His hand trailed down, but only to her side and she let out a short, low groan. But he smiled and mimicked her earlier movements, fingers digging down into her jeans. He thumbed her hips and pulled her in for another kiss, a soft pinch making her flinch and squeak into his lips.

“Let’s skip the foreplay. I want this.” Her fingers deftly undid her pants and pulled everything down, stepping out of them and her shoes before unhooking her bra and shedding the blouse. She was naked in seconds and she was back against him, pulling down his pants and pushing up his shirt.

The heat of his cock was unreal. A finger slid against and down her front and she shivered. “Weren’t kidding about the foreplay thing.” Two strong hands moved to her hips, squeezing them before softly guiding her to his side.

She realized she was facing the side of the car, her hands falling onto the edge of the trunk and hips jutting out as he moved behind her. Perhaps the alcohol had started to kick in sooner than she expected. She didn’t even have that much, but she had nearly forgotten that it was still there. But somehow-

His hot flesh dragged against hers, sending a near crippling wave over her. “You ready?”

She she wasn’t sure if she was anxious or scared or nervous, but she felt hot all over. “Not afraid of hurting your pet project?”

There was a low chuckle, “She’s a big girl. She can take it.” Another squeeze of her sides. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

There was a light touch against the sides of her wet folds, gently parting them as he came up to her opening. The head pushed in, going slowly deeper, and the pads of her fingers tensed against the paint of the car. And right when it was all in, he dove even further into her.

Keeping quiet was impossible and a low exhale left her lips.

“Holy-” there was a low grunt from behind her and then a hiss, “Winter.”

There was a strange sense of satisfaction with his utterance, and she began to move herself against him. Barely a breath passed before Qrow began to push and pull against her as well, their combined force rocking the car back and forth.

She realized that if things went far enough, the two of them were probably going to have sex in the vehicle at some point. But against the car was more than enticing. Even more so that it was happening right now, his strokes long and deep. Her eyes had long gone closed and head leaned forward.

“Hey Winter,” he said, slowing his pace a little, “how hard do you want it?”

“Pretty hard,” she said between breaths. “Pretty damn hard.”

“Alright then.” Another push, and he started to move faster than before.

A hand left her hip, dragging to the front and brushing against her clit and she grit her teeth, “H-Harder.” HIs fingers touched it again, this time more deliberately, lingering longer and more firmly. “Harder!”

He moved even faster, the car rocking more heavily, and the orgasm hit her. Low, drawn out moans left her lips. There was a sudden heat blooming from within her, his own climax, and she tried to push back greedily, wanting and feeling everything he did to try and drag out her own high.

When she finally brought her head up and looked back, the hot liquid slowly coursing out of her and cooling against her thighs, he was still buried inside of her. There was a small look in his eye, a little smile perhaps.

He gave another thrust, and she realized with a shiver that he was still hard. “Want it even harder?”

A part of her told her she didn’t need another go. The drunker side of her was louder and wanted it. “What do you have in mind?”

His lips grew wider as his hands took hers, finally sliding out of her. “Come on, let’s go over here.” With a soft drag, the moved only a couple feet to the back of the car and he placed her back against the top of the trunk. “If you’re up for it, turn around and lean.”

Turn around and lean? Even in her slowly intoxicating mind, she knew that this was the same position that they just-

“Oh,” she whispered to herself. “Oh shit.” The car’s trunk was just in the right spot to force her to stand on the tip of her toes to lean over. And where her hips were sticking out against the air previously, now they were really out there.

A gentle swat from his hand drew out a squeak from her. She suddenly felt more aware. The cold metal of the trunk waged war against her flushed and hot skin, and the tips of her breasts felt like they were sharp enough to scratch the paint.

His other hand lined himself up against her before sliding up to gently push her shoulder down. “Ready for harder?”

“Do it,” she took a breath. “Fucking do it.”

A sharp thrust, the angle different this time, and she found herself short of breath again. This time there was no gentle easing into the motions. No messing around, no kissing. Qrow said harder and he meant it. The car rocked back and forth with his thrusts, her feet lifting from the ground now and again.

It’s like she was floating, in a sense. Floating and taking it as deep as she could, her legs trying to part just a little further to welcome his thrusts. The side of her head had come to rest against the back windshield, her breath fogging the glass.

He didn’t say anything, no little games to play with her. It was just his cock, her breasts against the glass, her hands in his hair, the wetness, and then an overwhelming of lights and half-lived yells and groans and that heat again.

When she blinked the lights away, fingers loosening the deathgrip on his hair, she became cognisant of his weight on top of her just in time to feel a kiss on her cheek.

“Hard enough for ya, Ice Queen?” he gently said into her ear.

She chuckled and gave a kiss on his lips, just like the first one that she gave him. “Plenty hard.”

As the two of them leaned back, their loins separating, his arms went around her waist and pulled her into his warm body. As her blue eyes took in the image of the car, she could see the small stains and handprints and other marks against the dark red paint.

“Not worried about getting her dirty, huh?”

“Nothing a good hand wash can’t fix.” She saw his head turn towards a clock in the garage and she followed suit.

A quarter until midnight. Qrow gave a little breath, his arms giving her the tiniest of squeezes.

“Well, it’s late in the night and well out of order, but… still up for dinner?”

#rwby #qrow branwen #winter schnee #Qrowin #Smut #prompt #fanfiction #writing #rock au

[agentwallflower]

Dull One Chapter 12

Now let’s completely disregard what that post mentioned and do the same thing I’ve been doing for the past 3 years.

I don’t know if my antidepressant is working besides making me tired... it’ll take a couple weeks. I don’t feel bad, just... exhausted. It was a real trial to get my butt up to my computer. I’m sleeping a lot more too... which isn’t abnormal for me, but odd all the same. 

Anyway, we’ll see how my magical journey into SSRI-land goes. Here’s your chapter on time for once!

“Gods above, someone get a torch!”

“The barrier's not going to hold much longer! One mage already dropped!”

Mointz had hoped she was dreaming, but there was no way to ignore the sound of boots on hard stone. From her cot against the wall, she cracked one eye open to examine the goings on. Most of the barracks was emptied, save for a few people still trying to get their armor on.

Well... guess we were wrong about that bear, huh.

“You think?” She swung her legs around to touch the floor, knees popping from the effort. She still hadn't recovered from the long walk, and it showed. Walking was going to be a trial, and forget running. Limping at a slow pace was the best she was going to get.

Since there was so much noise going on, Mointz could speak without worrying. While she watched, she pulled on her shoes and wrist bands. Once finished, she stood and peaked out the hole that served as a window for the barracks.

As soon as she looked, the girl wished she was still sleeping. Outside, it was pitch black and a heavy rain had begun to fall. It coated the ground in a thick mist that made her bones ache, even though she was safe inside. A shiver ran up her spine, and she headed back to her cot in order to pull on her cloak.

So, what do you think?

Mointz couldn't answer that – a hand had reached out to grab her, thankfully with all its skin on. The tight grip belonged to Flower, sweat dotting her brow. She was bleeding from a cut along her forehead, and her armor was stained with black goo that had an all too familiar fetid aroma that caused the girl's stomach to turn.

Not again.

“What are you doing here? Hurry up, to the mess hall! We have defenses set up.” Mointz barely had time to grab her bag as she was booted out the door into the darkness. With only torch light and shouts to guide her, she was on her own.

The darkness closed in with more ways than one as she ran, heart pounding. She started muttering under her breath, as if to beat it back. “I'm not underground, I'm not underground. It's just dark outside, I'm not underground.”

And yet, she still saw the glint of a knife in the darkness, far beyond the shadows. Her heart skipped a beat, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and her breathing grew short.

Mointz, you're seeing things! It's ok!

She shook her head as hard as she could, and the droplets that flew and coated her skin helped a little. The darkness rescinded slightly, but her heart refused to slow down. However, with clearer vision she could see her goal.

Whatever was hitting them, it wasn't good. It was hard to make out far ahead, but her nose and ears did the work for her failing eyes. It sounded like a knife on glass, scratching its way through with a high pitched keen that caused her skin to crawl. Accompanied by the aroma of rotting flesh left to sit in the sun for far too long, and there was really only one thing it could be.

“Not again.” Mointz looked down at her wrist. Her bracelet was dull, and it felt heavy and cold against her skin. There was no hum of Spinner to accompany it, even when she rattled her bag. Neither would respond, try as she might. “This is really the worst time!”

Made functionally useless, the girl had no choice but to sprint her way over to the mess hall. Her way in was a window, since the door had been barricaded by two heavy looking hay carts. Climbing through was agony on her legs, but she made it through with help from a heavy pair of scarred hands. Her savior was one of the cooks if their burn scars were anything to go by.

Eyes met in the darkness as Mointz stepped into the mess hall. It was a small group left, civilians all. Some grasped knives, and one even had a clumsily strung bow. None of it would be any good if her nose was right, and she was pretty sure she was .

She found herself sitting behind a table, holding onto Spinner just in case. Outside, the noises were getting louder as whatever it was grew closer. Her heart pounded, but all she could do was watch.

“What are they?” Someone asked a question. “I... I saw one of them drag off Corporal Emerald!”

… hopefully they finished her off quick.

Mointz swallowed hard, shaking her head. It was just too dark in the mess hall, and with all the sounds outside it was hard to focus on anything. The edges of her vision were starting to slip away bit by bit, and the cold stone wall that pressed into her back felt a whole lot smoother than before.

Kid... kid, focus. You're right here, above ground, in the middle of nowhere.

“I'm trying.” A bump outside was met with the splintering of wood and a wet splat that accompanied it. Something crackled in the distance, sending an orange light spreading from under the floor.

Her vision muddied, and for a brief moment, Mointz swore the light on the floor was made of crystal shards instead. It glistened like the wings of a great beetle, dirtied by the ground below. It should have been in the air.

Fires burned, far too many to count. Her heart raced, and sweat poured down her face as she glanced around in the dark. The street was full of bodies, and the blood created puddles in the potholes of the road. A child's doll lay next to a collapsed wall, with only blood to tell as to the cause.

Mointz pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from throwing up, but her stomach churned all the same. Tears dotted her eyes and fell to the dirty ground, not nearly enough to dilute the blood. There was just too much of it, assaulting her senses from every angle.

She had to get away...

“They're breaking through the barrier! Captain Topaz's unit was destroyed!”

Something wet slapped her face. Blinking, Mointz pressed a hand to her skin and eyes widened when it came back wet. None of it was hers, though. Looking up, she saw that a guard had been thrown through the door of the mess hall. His head was missing, broken clean off at the neck.

Mointz, snap out of it! They broke through!

It was only then she realized there was a corpse in front of her.

Her eyes traveled to the direction of the barricaded door. It had been thrown open wide, practically blasted off its hinges with scorch marks to show for it. A figure stood in the way, profile tinted orange by a fire that burned in the distance.

With the sword sticking out of their middle and the fact they were holding their own dismembered arm as a staff, there was no doubt the blaster was long dead. However, their eyes were remarkably clear as they used their arm as a pointer, directing another of their kin to shuffle through.

Had she felt a little more like herself, maybe the situation of a sentient corpse caster might have been more than just freaking horrifying. However, that was neither here nor there at that point as she sat there crouched in the mess hall, watching.

It was only then that she realized she was alone. It was empty, save for her and the corpse of a kitchen worker who had been too close to the door when it had flown off its hinges. A sticky trail of blood was all she could see left of them besides the heavy door.

They ran out the back before it blew. Tried to get you to come with but you were just... sitting there.

It wasn't often Voice had that tone of being completely terrified, but it never failed to give her pause. Maybe because she too was ready to scream, but all she could do was plaster her hands over her mouth and hope they didn't find her.

The grunt corpse as it seemed to be was worse for the wear than its master. Putrid, with bones showing through the decaying skin, it had been dead for quite some time. From the look of its clothes, it had been one of the missing civilians.

Well, it was hard to call them missing when they had been found.

She crouched lower, heart all but beating out of her chest as she watched them sweep the room. Once, they stopped in front of the smear on the wall, poking it with their foot. A grunt, and then a moan, and they moved away in a halfhearted shuffle.

However, it wasn't over. Had it not been for the hand over her mouth, Mointz would have screamed when the corpse whirled around and stared at her directly. One eye was missing, and the other was filmed over.

Kid... get ready to fight.

But she couldn't. Spinner felt like a block of lead at her side. Even picking it up would have been impossible. All the girl could do was sit there, praying that she went unnoticed. They took another step, edging closer.

“We are being called back.”

The sound that came out of the mage's throat sounded like no voice she had ever heard before. It froze the blood in her veins and made a shiver run up her spine. However, it had the desired effect. The other corpse began a slow shuffle back, and the two left the mess hall after some struggle.

Mointz wasn't sure how long she sat there behind the bench, waiting for her body to thaw. Fires were being put out nearby if the hissing of flames were any indicator. The attack, however long it had been, was coming to an end. People were still alive out there somewhere.

She finally fell to her knees, sweat dripping down her face. Letting go of the breath she had been holding felt as though it scraped along her neck. Somehow, she had survived the attack she had never seen coming.

Hey, you ok, kid? You don't usually space like that.

Standing was hard, but doable. Mointz leaned against a bench in order to slowly make her way out. There was another corpse in the doorway, face down. It was another civilian, but this one was fresh. She turned away, still limping towards wherever she could get to.

Outside, it was a mess. Fires were being put out and a pile of corpses were being formed for burning. Most of them were on the enemy side, but she recognized a few faces. Both of the guards who had brought her there were part of the pile, as was Emerald. Bits were missing, though she couldn't look to see what.

“You're alive!” Another soldier, bleeding from a head wound, ran up to her. The woman dabbed at her forehead at last, but more blood trickled down the bridge of her nose. “Corporal Emerald told me to find you no matter what. Order of the Emperor and all that.”

She gave a little salute. “Oh, uh, I'm Private Amethyst, 3rd unit.”

Mointz didn't even really hear most of that. She just stared down the open road, where a barracade had been blasted apart from what looked like magic. Wherever they had come from, the corpses had had a mage.

Someone had called them back, but for what? Had she been the target all along? It made her knees shake, and she finally fell to them. A cold sweat trickled to the ground as her new guard tried to help her up, but it was for naught.

Shit was getting downright weird, and she didn't want any part of it. Once again, it seemed as though she was getting into the middle of another fight.

#Fuck what da ask blog says #The Magpie's Stash #Dull One #fantasy #novel #gore warning btw

[rockmusicwrites]

Cap’s Reinforcements

All things considered, this wasn't going as badly as Clint figured it would. Still a little dizzy from Vision's chokehold, he stumbled over to the edge of the hole Wanda had punched in the kitchen floor.

"Oh." It was a little hard to tell from eight floors up if the android was moving or not, but Clint figured he was definitely gonna need a minute after taking a hit like that. "Come on. Got one more stop to make."

Wanda nodded, and followed Clint out into the hallway. "We don't have much time before F.R.I.D.A.Y. tattles on us," she said as Clint paused to scoop up the duffle bag he'd left just outside the door. "What's the plan?"

"Get out and get gone," he replied. "Head for the jets."

Wanda turned and sprinted down the hall, Clint close behind. He could see the familiar red glow of her chaos magic flare up as they approached the side door that led out to the tarmac. With a grunt of effort, she blasted it off of its hinges.

"Something wrong with the keypad?" he asked.

"I have restricted access. I can't open any of the outside doors," Wanda replied bitterly. Clint headed straight for the team's smaller Quinjet, cursing Tony under his breath. However well-meaning his intentions were, confining her to the compound was a dick move. A gilded cage is still a cage. Especially to someone with Wanda's history.

Clint punched in the override codes Cap had given him to bypass the Quinjet's security protocols. A loud crash had him spinning around, nocking an arrow as he ducked under the wing. No Vision, no friends-turned-hostiles, just another mangled door rocking back and forth on the concrete. Wanda disappeared inside the hanger. There was a second crash, and her go bag came skidding across the ground to rest at Clint's feet.

Clint picked up both of their bags and fired them into the jet. "Get in!" he shouted, sliding the arrow back into his quiver and scrambling aboard. He threw himself into the pilot seat and switched the controls over to manual before firing up the engines. The thud of boots against the steel floor had him looking over his shoulder. Wanda slammed her hand against the door control panel and dropped into the seat in front it.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice came over the compound's security system. "I'm afraid you don't have authorization to fly out of here, Agent Barton."

"I'm not an Agent anymore," Clint muttered, easing the jet forward and praying Tony's AI wouldn't figure out how to override his override until after they were airborne. He didn't particularly feel like crashing. "You might want to strap yourself in, kiddo."

The second he heard the restraints click into place, Clint hit the throttle. It certainly wasn't his smoothest takeoff, but he got them clear of the compound without incident.

"Where are we going?" Wanda asked.

"I'll tell you when we get there." Clint glanced back at her, shrugging his shoulders. "Jet's offline, but I wouldn't put it past Tony to have ears on us anyway. He's gonna have to get his intel on Cap somewhere else, 'cause he's not getting anything from me."

"Is Steve okay?"

"He's in one piece," Clint replied. Steve had been all business on the phone, but Clint knew him well enough by now to pick up on the things he wasn't saying. He was exhausted and scared, and Clint couldn't blame him. It had been a hell of a week. "Sam, too."

"Good."

"And speaking of Tony and his nosy tech, there's a jammer in my duffle. Fire it up, then trash you comms. It's in a side pouch," he added, double checking that they were on course for San Diego while Wanda rummaged through his bag. Offline meant no flight plan and no GPS. They were doing this the old fashioned way. "I think we'd both be happier if you didn't touch my underwear."

Wanda made a noise of disgust that turned into a laugh. "I've missed you, Clint."

"Missed you, too, kiddo."

There was a brief flash of red as Wanda crushed the earpiece that had been with her uniform, and a moment later she returned to her seat.

For the next half hour, the jet was completely silent save for the soft hum of the engines. Clint was going over Cap's instructions in his head, running through the timeline over and over again in an attempt to distract himself from what would happen when they reached Germany. He hadn't wanted any part of the Accords. This wasn't his life anymore. And if it was, he would have been a lot less polite to Nat about his thoughts on the matter. Still, he wasn't looking forward to going up against his friends.

Especially since he wasn't sure what he was more pissed about; their willingness to cave to Ross and his bullshit UN panel, or the way they were handling the situation with Cap's buddy. Clint had a hard time believing Tony wouldn't be doing the exact same thing if it was Rhodey who was in trouble.

Granted, Rhodey didn't have a decades-long history of doing the exact sort of thing that Barnes was being accused of. But as someone who had firsthand experience with being brainwashed into murdering on behalf of a psycho with dreams of world domination, Clint couldn't help but give the guy the benefit of the doubt. His gut was telling him Barnes was every bit the victim Cap made him out to be.

And he'd be fucked if he was going to stand by and do nothing.

"Is everything alright?"

Clint nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

"You seem very tense all of a sudden," Wanda replied. "Are we in trouble? Were we followed?"

"What? No. No, we're fine. We're safe," Clint assured her. "I was just thinking."

"I don't want to fight them, either," she said softly.

"They're not giving us much of a choice," Clint replied.

"I'm sorry you had to get involved."

"I'm not. I'm right where I need to be."

They lapsed back into silence. Clint checked their course again. They were passing over Ohio. Hopefully Sam's guy would be at the rendezvous point on time. This faux-shrink nutcase already had a head start on them, and they couldn't afford any delays.

There was a metallic clank, and the swish of fabric rubbing against fabric, and then Wanda was standing next to him. "I know Steve sent you, but thank you. For coming for me."

Clint looked up at her and smiled. "Anytime."

Her answering smile was small but genuine. Leaning against the side of his seat, she turned her attention to the night sky.

~ ~ ~

"So, where are we?" Wanda asked as they stepped onto the tarmac. It was just barely dawn, the sun a thin line of orange on the horizon.

Bow at the ready just in case, Clint did a quick sweep of the area. There was a silver sedan parked behind the main building as promised, but the driver was nowhere in sight. "Just outside of San Diego. It’s a flight school that belongs to a friend of Sam's from Basic. Said we could use it as a pick up point," Clint explained.

"And what are we picking up?" Wanda raised her hands, energy rippling between her fingers.

"Who, actually," Clint replied. "Ant-Man."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Ah, is… is she your aunt or…?"

"Ant, not Aunt," he clarified, trying not to laugh. "Like the bug."

"And he calls himself that on purpose?" Wanda dropped her voice to a low whisper as they neared the vehicle. Clint shrugged, raising his bow.

"I don't know. This whole thing is all Sam." He motioned for Wanda to hang back and stepped around the front of the car. There was a man sitting on the ground against the driver's side door, a small duffle and a backpack at his side, head dropped forward. Please don't be dead, Clint thought, nudging the man's leg with the toe of his boot.

The man made a startled noise, arms flailing. Clint took a step back but kept his weapon aimed at his chest.

"Man, you scared the shit out of me," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. He blinked up at Clint, then froze. "Uh… I really hope you're an Avenger. Or else this is the weirdest carjacking ever."

Clint rolled his eyes. "You Ant-Man?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's me. I'm Ant-Man." Using the hood of the car for leverage, he got to his feet. "And it's Scott, actually," he added, brushing sand off the back of his jeans.

"Clint. And this is Wanda," Clint offered, jerking a thumb in her direction. Wanda waved.

"Good to…" Scott trailed off, yawning. "Sorry. Long drive."

"That your gear?" Clint asked, indicating the bags by Scott's feet.

"Uh, yes."

"Good. Let's get moving."

Scott scooped up the bags and followed them to the Quinjet, nearly tripping himself with the trailing strap of his backpack. Clint and Wanda paused while he reoriented himself, Wanda giving Clint a look that made it clear she was just as concerned about the new recruit as he was. He definitely had a few questions for Sam.

"So, what did they tell you?" Clint asked.

"Just that Cap…" Scott yawned again. "Sorry. Just that Captain America needs my help. This whole thing has been very cloak and dagger."

"Yeah, well, the stakes are pretty high," Clint replied, stopping a few feet from the jet.

"No, I get that. Uh, how, how high are the stakes exactly?"

"I'll fill you in when we land. Jet's kinda stolen, and we don't know if Stark has it bugged or not," Clint told him, waving Wanda on board. "So radio silence for the duration. Alright?"

"Sure. No problem, Arrow Guy," Scott grinned, hoisting the backpack farther up on his shoulder.

Clint waited until Scott was on board too before giving their surroundings one last glance. Coast seemed clear. On the jet, Wanda was securing Scott's luggage, while Scott tried to figure out how his restraints were supposed to work. It reminded Clint of when Lila would try and buckle herself into her car seat.

Wordlessly, Clint untwisted the straps and clicked them into place.

"Thanks, man." If Scott was at all embarrassed, he didn't show it. Then again, Scott didn't strike him as the kind of guy who got embarrassed about anything. Clint took his own seat and got them back in the air.  

From here on out, Clint was on his own. He had to figure out how to get the three of them to Leipzig, and then the six of them to Siberia. He had the Siberia part covered, calling in a few markers from his SHIELD days to secure a helicopter for them at the Leipzig airport. But he was going to have to improvise the rest.

The plan was to ditch the Quinjet near Hamburg. Even with the jammer, flying any farther into German airspace was just asking to get shot out of the sky. No way would they get past Tony and Ross. Not when they knew it would be damn near impossible for Cap to have gotten out of the country.

A muffled giggle pulled him out of his thoughts. Scott was fast asleep, head lolling against the seatback. Wanda was watching him with a hand clapped over her mouth, eyes wide with amusement. When she realized Clint was watching her, she lowered her hand and whispered, "Are we sure about him?"

"Apparently he's good in a fight. Guess we'll have to wait and see," Clint whispered back. "And he's got the right idea," he added. "You should get some rest while you still can."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

"We can switch for a little bit if you want," Wanda offered.

"You know how to fly this thing?" Clint asked.

She narrowed her eyes at the surprise in his tone. "Steve has been teaching me. He says I'm better at flying than I am at driving."

"And how's your driving?"

"It's getting better."

"Well that's comforting."

"Fine," she shot back with a mock-glare. "No nap for you."

"Alright. Get up here." Clint instructed her to wake him up in two hours. He didn't need more than that. He had a one year old at home. Functioning on minimal sleep was the norm for him these days.

Wanda let him sleep for four.

~ ~ ~

Clint set the Quinjet down in a small clearing at the edge of the city. On the other side of the tree line was a cluster of warehouses. Tiptoeing to the back of the jet, Clint eased open the zipper on his duffle and pulled out his street clothes. If there were cameras in the lot, he didn't want them catching him in his Hawkeye gear. He changed as quickly and as quietly as he could.

Wanda stirred when he hit the release for the door. She blinked herself awake, gaze moving from Clint to the windscreen and back to Clint, as if just realizing they weren't moving anymore.

"Stay with him," Clint ordered, tugging on a plain black ball cap. "I have a plan."

Slipping out of the woods, Clint jogged across the gravel lot, keeping his head on a swivel. It was a little after five in the morning in Hamburg, and the place seemed deserted. He jimmied open a window on the first building, which opened into an office. There were two dozen white cargo vans parked in the lot, and as many sets of keys hanging on a pegboard beside the desk. Clint helped himself to one of the sets and hopped back out the window.

Matching the number on the key ring to the number taped to the inside of the windshield, Clint unlocked the last van in the second row. He drove to the edge of the lot, pulling as far into the trees as he could.

Wanda was standing in the open doorway of the jet waiting for him when Clint returned. "Got us some wheels," he said. "He conscious yet?"

Wanda smirked, shaking her head.

"Wait, really?" Wanda moved aside to let Clint poke his head around the doorframe. Sure enough, Scott was still slumped against his restraints, snoring softly. Clint strode over to the snoozing hero and kicked his foot. "Alright, pal. Up and at 'em."

Groaning, Scott slowly picked his head up. He winced, hand going to the back of his neck. He squinted blearily up at Clint, who was standing over him with his arms folded. "Hey. Uh, what's going on? Are we here?"

"Almost. We gotta move."

"Sure. Okay," Scott muttered, fumbling with the catch on his restraints. He got to his feet, yawning and stretching his arms over his head.

"Lead the way," Wanda said, handing Clint his duffle. She had Scott's backpack slung over her shoulder, the other two bags clutched in her left hand. Clint took hold of Scott's wrist, propelling him into motion. Once the three of them were outside, Clint punch in the lock code, sealing the Quinjet up tight.

The van was idling a few feet away. Clint swung the side door open. They tossed the luggage inside, and Scott followed right behind, sprawling across the bench on his back and flinging an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the steadily increasing daylight.

"Guess I get shotgun," Wanda quipped, reaching for the door handle.

"Guess we need coffee," Clint replied, rounding the front of the van.

"Oh, yes please," she agreed.

It seemed like they were on a main road, so Clint followed it until they spotted a café. He bought a map at the newsstand across the street, passing it off to Wanda before heading inside to grab coffee and breakfast sandwiches for the three of them.

Setting the cardboard to-go tray on the centre console, Clint asked "Figure out a route yet?"

"I think so," Wanda replied. "If we turn left at the end of the next block, the A7 is just ahead. We should be able to follow the road signs to Leipzig from there."

"Nice work. Here," Clint handed her one of the cups. "Black, two sugars."

"You remembered." Wanda smiled fondly, cradling the cup between her palms.

"'Course I did."

"Oh hey. Is that coffee?" The bench creaked as Scott sat up. Clint fished one of the sandwiches out of the tray and tossed it to him. The paper packet hit him in the chest and landed in his lap.

"Hope you like bacon."

"Duh," he replied, already peeling the wrapper open.

Clint finished his own sandwich in about three bites and pulled back out onto the street, following Wanda's directions. He could see Scott in the rearview mirror, lying back on the bench once again, coffee untouched.

"So, Scott." There was an answering grunt. Still awake, then. "You maybe want to know what you're doing here?"

"That'd be nice."

Clint filled both of them in on everything Cap had told him. Bucky. The 'shrink'. Siberia. Wanda had a lot of questions about Bucky, most of which Clint wasn't able to answer. Cap hadn't said much about him other than he found him, and he'd been framed in order to gain access to the rest of the Winter Soldier program.

This was apparently where they lost Scott, because he was snoring again. Wanda had to shake him awake when they got to the Leipzig-Mette exit and make him chug his now cold coffee. Cap was going to love this. Clint really, really hoped Sam knew what he was doing with this guy.

#fiction tag #mcu #avengers 3.0 series

[theencinomaneworld-blog]

At Midnight

        This is the story of Marc Spector, who became the God of Vengence, only to have his life ripped apart over and over again. This is Fan-Fiction based on Marvel’s fictional character, Moon Knight. Hope you all enjoy.

Warning: Swearing and Violence                                      

                                              Chapter 1:

                                          Just like a Merc

               “Murder, rape, robbed of everything you hold dear. These things, people fear most... Are ya’ hearing me boy? Are ya listenin’? ” the raspy voice vibrated into Marc’s frequency, his brain racing through the events leading him there; side by side with a no-good ass-wipe like Bushman. My partner in crime, he thought. Bushman’s mouth stretching from ear to ear sparkled a glimpse of his metallic fangs. Fuck was I thinking.

“Ya’ see it’s fear. Fear that’ll get the people riled up. Fear will make them do whatever you want. That’s why I had this skull tattooed over my face.”

“Oh? Not because you thought you’d be the prettiest girl at the ball?” Marc replied. The ill amusement on his face made Marc’s smirk. Bushman gripped Marc’s shoulder, stopping him in is tracks. It’s too hot out here for this. Marc thought.

“See that’s your problem there Spector, you’re soft. You’re quick to make joke because you too, are afraid.” Bushman said. His thick Haitian accent, jabbed at Marc with bursts of air.

“Let’s just get the job done and be out of here.” Marc said, jerking his shoulder, snuffing Bushman’s grip away.

Palm trees made good cover for the small militia group as they crept through the moonlit village outside Canaan. Six men and two women, few of Earth’s shittiest Merc’s in one pot, stewing for the bigger heap.

“This is it here.” Bushman said, pointing ahead to a clay shack. A small amount of light flared through the cracks of the wooden door as a faint voice can be heard from within.

“We must keep our heads low my dear. We must keep it moving before anyone…” BAM!

Bushman kicked in the door, sending it flying off its hinges as a silver haired geologist, shielded a young blonde-haired woman from the blast.

“Well, well now. Are we interrupting.” Said Bushman. He rubbed his tongue across his fangs and tugged on his black vest, his head held high as he began pacing the room. The last of the gang of mercs gathering into the small hut aimed their ak’s at the victims.

“Now listen here doctor. I’m not here to take anything from you personally, nor harm the head on your pretty little mistress there.” Said Bushman, then with his head sitting low, and eyebrows arched at attention, he gave the old man a mad bull glare, sucking on his teeth.

“What. What do you want?” replied the geologist, fixating his glasses back on his face.

“Oh, I think you know good and damn well what I want doc.” Bushman said. Stretching his finger in the doctor’s direction, he inches closer and closer, then press it against the fragile chest of the doctor. Face to face, Bushman stared into the man’s eyes, with dead ones. “We’re here for the same reason you are Doc.”

He backs away, moving back toward the entrance.

“Now don’t worry Doc, we’re here to help.” Bushman said, gesturing to the old man’s newly appointed help, the old man helping nothing but to give a stank face.

“But I didn’t hire any help, nor do I want it!” The old man blurted. Bushman dropped his head and rolled his eyes.  

“Alright.” Said Bushman. “Alright. I get it. You need convincing first. Need to know we’re the right men for the job.” He said. His henchmen dispersed across the hut, throwing, smashing, ripping, destroying anything and whatever is intact. Chaos rained down on Bushman and the couple as he continued to stare them down  

“Stop it! Stop it now dammit!” the old man yelled. The mercs moved in, corning the doctor, Marc grabbing the girl from behind.

“No!” yelled the man, reaching out to grab her. “Missy!”

One of the mercenaries clocked the old man in the gut, relieving him of his rebellion.

“Avi!” the woman yelled, jerking in Marc’s grasp.

“Okay old man, let’s roll.” Bushman said, gesturing for the doctor to lead the way. The old man took a deep breath and glanced over at the woman before letting out a sigh, and stepping out the doorway.  

It had been hours the three jeeps drove through the desert. Hours before the old man pointed at an oasis, smack dab in the middle of nowhere.

“There!” He said,” Just up ahead”

They all pulled up to the oasis before unloading their gear.

“It’s on foot from here.” The doctor went on.  

“Jesus H Christ how much longer Doc? Starting to get restless here.” Cried Marc. Repositioning his gear onto his shoulder.

“Calm yourself Spector,” Said Bushman, “I’m sure the doctor here is just as anxious as you are,” Bushman shoots a smirk over at the old man, “Right Doc? I mean… not wanting anything to happening to your precious girl and all.”

Marc gives off a sarcastic snicker. Sick bastard. A few miles on foot past before,

“Here!” said the old man, “It should be…somewhere around… here.”

He stopped, and pulled out a giant a book from his bag. The moonlight danced off it’s golden cover as he sat it down in the sand and began reciting,

“Don kali ma sha, ektu furah sha tali muante…”

The ground slightly trembled to erect the crews’ attention.

“Da hell is going on?” Marc asked. Everyone tried maintaining their balance as Bushman turned to look at Mar and grinned.

“Just watch Spector. Watch and witness greatness.”

The ground continued to rumble, harder and harder before everyone fixated on the structure growing from beneath it. Larger and larger it grew into a five-story structure; built of ivory and gold, unearthed for centuries. Complete with pillars carved in the shape of a ghost faced god holding a crescent staff, everyone stood, tranced by its wonder.

“Magnificent.” Said the doctor, “Years of research and scavenging.” He muttered.

“Go on Doc,” Bushman said, rubbing his hands together. “be my guest.” He gestured once more for the old man’s lead before he shuffled in, scanning the entrance for traps and curses.

“Not all night now” Bushman said, pushing him through the stoned doorway. He stumbled in before catching his balance, and continuing.

WHOOSH

Sounds of kerosene soaked rags setting ablaze flooded the corridor as the dim lights revealed darkness, leading into more darkness.

“Stay sharp men,” one of the soldiers said. They walked on, aiming their sights to lead the way inching throughout seemingly endless hallway. Bushman walking tall and without hesitation shoved at the geologist to pick up the pace.

“I said not all night.” Bushman said before his thought was cut short.

“Wait… D’you hear that?” said the doctor. He stretched his torch further in front of him, listening out.

“Sounds like static.” Said someone. Everyone else tuned in to guess the sound.  

“Sounds like…water?” Marc said. Picking up the pace, they raced toward the sound before a glimmer of moonlight illuminating the path before them, guided them into a tomb.

“Holy, shit.” Marc uttered.

Caught in the alluring luminescence of the moon shining through the roof, glimmers of light danced down the giant waterfall that poured from the wall into a pool below. The walls were decorated with statues of the same god from outside; all ivory and gold, in pristine shape, standing tall, leading up to a stone sarcophagus that sat in the center of it all.

“The Tomb of Konshu” said the old man, his words slightly dripping from his lips. He took a small step before being shoved out of the way. Gorillas and their treasures, thought the old men.

“Alright!” shouted one of the soldiers. “That’s what I’m talking about!” said another.

Bushman, savoring the moment, made his way toward the sarcophagus, and slid off the lid. A slight glow from within scrunched Bushman’s face as he tried to stare upon the wonder.

“Yes…This, this is it.” He uttered. Marc crept in further, curious cat he was, only to view the crescent staff that occupied every statue within the tomb. This? This is what all the trouble was for? Thought Marc. His mind raced around the events as he watched the Bushman’s hand reaching into the coffin.  

He lifted the staff out, the Crescent tip bounced the moonlight around the room as he held it up into the air. “I…I can feel it.” said Bushman. Everyone just stared as the man before them glowed in the moonlight, his muscles, growing inches by the second.

“I can feel it,” Bushman said. He stared into his hands as waves of energy, flowed within him. “I can feel it!”

Bushman looked up at the geologist, who continued to watch as the trespassers desecrated the sacred discovery.  “Yes,” Bushman said, lunging at the old man, tackling him to the ground.

“Hey wait! What are you doing?” Shouted the old man, gaining the room’s attention. Bushman snarled at the doctor, showing his teeth before sinking them into the side of his artery.

“What the hell are you doing!” Yelled Marc, running over to break the old man free of Bushman’s grip, only to yank a chunk of the old man’s throat into the throat of the Bushman’s.

“No!” yelled the woman. She fought her way out of the grip of a henchman, and into the dying arms of the old man.

“Granddad!” she cried out.

  “What the hell you think you’re doing man!” Marc shouted. Bushman slowly rised over the corpse.

“Just what the fuck…” Marc continued before being cut off by the sight Bushman’s glare. His black, soulless eyes slightly stared from the corners, stuttering Marc as he watched droplets of blood fall from his grin. Merc began laughing amongst themselves as others were stared, stunned.

“I can’t…I can’t be a part of this.” Marc said, trying to grasp his head around the events just witnessed.

“Oh, you can be a part, or you can die here, right along with them.” Bushman said. The woman’s cries bouncing throughout the room as Bushman walked toward her.

“Oh, I’m sorry little lady. Did I here you say granddad?” Bushman said, bending down at the tear soaked woman. “That makes more sense now doesn’t it.” He continued.

“Stop.” Said Marc.

“Would you like to join him?” Bushman continued.

“I said stop!”

The woman looked up into Bushman’s eyes as hers continued to swell with tears. Bushman grinning before leaning in closer.

“I said, you’re done you fucking asshole.” Said Marc. He gripped Bushman’s shoulder and yanked him backward.

“We’re not murderers. That’s not what I signed up for.” Marc continued. Bushman rolled back and onto his feet before dusting himself off.

“Damn. You disappoint me Spector. I really expected more of you.” Said Bushman.

“Yea, well, you should’ve read the full file. Now you came and got what you were looking for, so I’d say it’s time for us to leave.”

Marc planted his feet into the sand as the rest of the gang gather behind Bushman. Turning to the woman, “Get out of here. Run!” Marc said, before feeling a jab on his cheek. The woman watches Marc go down before dashing to the exit. Two of the mercs take after her. Marc fought off his assailant before pulling the pin to a grenade, attached at his hip.

“If’ I’m not leaving, none of us will.” Marc said, whipping the grenade across the room, landing at the doorway and at the feet of the fleeting mercs.

BOOM!

­­­­­­­­­­­POW!

A shot goes off amid the commotion, the structure rumbling and shaking, starts falling apart. Marc turned back toward Bushman, wielded his pistol in hand, aimed through the hole in Marc’s chest.

“I told you Marc. You were getting soft.” Said Bushman. The mercs tried dodging fallen debris, Marc tried grabbing for stability.

“It was simple Marc. All you had to do was follow orders.” Bushman continued. Marc crawled on the ground as Bushman let out another shot into his back.

BAM!

Marc stopped to turn over, sitting his back against the sarcophagus.

“Yea… well, I guess … I guess I wasn’t the right, asshole, for the job.” Marc muttered. The foundation crumbling, the roof began to cave as Bushman stood over Marc’s body. Without hesitating nor flinching at the destruction, Bushman inspected the staff while standing over Marc.

“Yea. I guess you’re right.” Bushman said, before driving the tip of the staff into the heart of Marc. Marc let out a groan as he felt the sharp edge pierce his armor, clothing, skin, then heart. “Ahhh!” he cried out.

I guess this is how it ends. Decades of killing and war, the loneliness and paranoia of the shadows and this is it. At the hands of a no-good piece of shit like Bushman. I guess it’s just like a merc… to die right here like this.

Bushman looked up at the moonlit sky, pieces of debris smacked his face as he stood over his work, grinning, before being consumed in the rubble. 

#marvel #stories #novel #comics #marvel comics #marvel community #fanfiction #superhero #moon knight #moon #knight #midnight