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marvels-meme · 2 months

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Canon worldbuilding lore on the MCU Kree to help you with your fanfic

They rule over multiple planets. Hala is the capital.

Hala's star is called Pama

In the comics there are around five known planets in Hala's system - it's unclear if Hala is 4th or 5th planet because it's been confused with another planet, Turunal.

Hala is located in the Larger Magellanic Cloud

Hala had oceans and forests (rip to those tho lol)

Leader of the Empire is called the "Supremor"

The Supreme Intelligence was basically god

The collective is one idea of the afterlife — if your brain is worthy it joins the Supreme Intelligences database when you die.

The spiritual afterlife is called the Etherplex or something idk

Their technology is somewhat water based (need more info on this)

Architecture is heavy on metal and stone and is very geometric. Buildings are detailed but there generally isn't too much furniture.

Cyan and purplish lights for a big chunk of Hala, golden lights for the Supreme Intelligence.

No hanging paintings... If you want art you have to hire someone to paint your wall lol

Starforce generally have one room apartments, I couldn't see a kitchen in them.

Stuff like wardrobes, book shelves, cupboards and drawers are more likely to be inserted into the wall to save space.

Like Carol literally lived in a single room with a bed, nightstand and a hexagonal cup. The ideal female living space.

They have hexagonal cups (I just thought that was cute)

The military is a big deal! Other respectable careers involve teaching, medicine, typically intelligent jobs that give something to society.

Kids are trained from a young age in the military. They're called "recruits". There's a deleted scene of Yon-Rogg teaching some.

The military hierarchy is likely Supremor > Accuser > Starforce > Kree Army > Non Kree Army > War slaves.

The Accusers aren't just extra bad military. They uphold the law, make arrests, hold trials, decide punishments, etc. I'd imagine that this is typically done for more important criminals or prisoners of war. That's why Dar-Benn holds an Accuser hammer as Supremor — she's upholding the law.

Kree Law is vaguely structured around the Tablets of Koth — they aren't definitive but they are the main basis.

Questioning your leaders is technically illegal

The worst crime of all is being "un-Kree".

Kree supremacy is big. In the comics it's illegal for Kree to have children with other species. They will tolerate other races if they’re feeling nice about it, but ultimately the Kree come first. This is important in the context of Carol's relationship with Yon-Rogg.

There's racism of blue Kree > non blue Kree in the comics but it doesn't appear to be present in the MCU. Keep it in mind though.

The Kree originally evolved to have blue skin because of low oxygen levels on Hala. Non blue kree came later as a result of mixing with other species. Since making babies with another species has been illegality for probably millenia, non blue Kree are now just another skin tone of the species.

Sexism isn't a thing. Yon-Rogg isn't sexist to Carol he's being racist too her lol

There are groups of noble families with some quite strict rules about battle. If a noble is cornered in battle with no way out they have to drink the special suicide juice or else they are shamed.

The suicide juice is called Odium, which means hate in Latin. If you sip it you go crazy with rage, get super strength and start trying to fight everything until it makes your heart explode

In the comics the Kree have double that of human organs — ie two hearts, four lungs. Brain is probably an exception. They have stronger bones and heavier muscle mass.

Kree blood has healing properties strong enough to bring a species with simple DNA (like humans) back from the dead but it's super duper painful and like 7/8 of the people that have received it have been given some kind of amnesia afterwards

Carol was one of those humans lol rip queen

Apparently the amnesia thing isn't even hard to do? In Agents of Shield a Kree had a tiny little hammer and he'd slap people with it and they'd loose their memories (I doubt that Carol was slapped with a tiny hammer but you never know this might help you)

Propaganda art - there are some gorgeous statues and murals in the Captain Marvel concept art.

Fashion is generally dark. Black, grey and brown for most people. It's not too complicated. White appears to be for underclothes/sleeping wear.

Well it's not too complicated unless you are the Supremor. Remember, Dar-Benn is succeeding the position from their idea of god. She's dressed to the tens and stands out the most from literally everyone. Her stuff is more detailed and metallic and she's wearing a lot more jewellery.

Also notice how Dar-Benn changes outfits literally every ten minutes. I need Marvel to stop killing all the cunty villains because I deserved to study her entire wardrobe thank you very much

A few Kree women (including Carol) have the style of one side being braided and the other let down.

The Kree are encouraged to experiment with as many genders as possible

So technically Carol Danvers lesbian sex canon

Some people grow babies in big tanks. Why? To make them strong or something idk. Carol's comic half sister was born in a big tank bc they wanted her to be strong asf to serve as an Accuser

Swear words — I only know da'st. No idea what it means

They don't have a word for candy </3

Normal space currency is called credits. Kree currency is called kreedits. If that's not the funniest fucking thing ever I don't know what is.

Kree names are "your name-family name". Eg Yon-Roggs given name is Yon, but his surname is Rogg. His daughters name is Una-Rogg.

You generally don't separate the name. Yon-Roggs name isn't Yon, it's Yon-Rogg. Obviously there's exceptions, but that's the general naming rule. It wouldn't be outright wrong to call him Yon, it would just be uncommon and slightly weird.

The Kree have beef with every species ever. They had multiple wars with the Asgardians and the Xandarians.

I've probably missed something lol

Anyways: Arab.org daily click to help Palestine 🍉

#marvels-meme #not a meme #marvel #mcu #the marvels #marvel cinematic universe #captain marvel #carol danvers #worldbuilding #actually canon!#captain marvel (2019)#the marvels (2019)#kree marvel #mcu kree #dar-benn #yon-rogg #its 1 am yay...

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notellum · 7 months

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— “i'm a simple person; i don't need much to live. but sometimes i look up at the stars and wonder about a life that isn't mine."

BIO.

reyes wears their heart on their sleeve and displays their emotions without fear—you’ve never known them to be any different. they like to call themself an old soul, someone optimistic and kind, who will go out of their way to help others while expecting nothing in return. it's what drew you together when you were children and what bonds you together now. no matter how many times you deny their help, they'll insist that they owe you. some sort of debt that they need to repair, they say, though whether that be serious or the 'debt' of your friendship, it's hard to say.

as a childhood friend you’ve lost and recently found again, it’s easy to make comparisons to who they used to be. once small, they're now tall. once meek, they're now confident. the most noticeable difference, though, is the weight that burdens them. a secret that even you, apparently, are not privy to. still, they’re practically the same as you remember them. that is, as long as you don’t ask them what happened in the years they disappeared.

APPEARANCE.

reyes has pale skin, green eyes and ginger/copper hair. if male, their hair is styled in a short wolf-cut. if female, their hair reaches around mid-torso. it is naturally straight but since it’s cut with layers, many of the pieces look curved. if non-binary, their hair is styled in a long wolf-cut, ending slightly past their shoulders. they stand at 5’9.

reyes is cis and graysexual. the closest ethnicity to describe them would be scottish.

OTHER INFORMATION.

age: 24

birth realm: unknown.

birthday: october 4th (libra).

allies: val beledri [the emissary], roman [the founder].

enemies: none.

powers: manipulation of life [extent unknown].

MBTI: isfp [adventurer].

#intros #char: reyes #ink\void duology #twine game #interactive fiction

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lightwise · 8 days

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TBB S3 E10 Reaction

Life has been a bit busier the last few weeks so I am finally catching up on my episode reactions (I’m determined to do all of them this season!) And I apologize y’all, this episode made me very snarky apparently.

I’ll be honest. When this episode first came out I was nowhere near as surprised by it or horrified by it as reviewers seemed to be. Nothing about Palpatine hunting down force sensitive children as experiments and using Cad Bane to do it is a surprise, and the Vault feels so much like Andor. But even on a rewatch this episode holds up so well and honestly just starts to give a cold chill under the skin as the quiet horror of it sinks in.

- Cute kid. And the Batch nowhere to be seen. This is going to be a different episode isn’t it

- Oh no. He’s force sensitive 😫😫😫 hmmm how could that possibly go wrong

- This is giving Andor vibes 👀

- It’s always interesting seeing “regular people” in Star Wars and little markets and how they’re just trying to go about their daily lives.

- Don’t go around snitching people! Nothing good ever comes of it!!!

- Yeah this guy is worse than Timm from Andor. Wtf dude. You’re turning in a baby!!

- Also is it just me or typical Star Wars “houses” end up being pretty dark and depressing?

- Wait okay okay. So this is the CX chamber. Why can’t we see any of them yet 😩😩 what is this red fog? What are these weird conditioning pods? What kind of armor is on this datapad?? *trying to crawl inside my screen* I NEED ANSWERS JENNIFER!!

- “Do you trust me?” Ooooh why do I think that’s going to come back around

- But also, babygirl, I don’t think you actually know what you’re signing up for

- “I could be more useful” “you wish to be the new chief scientist Dr. Karr?” “I believe I’ve earned it.” Alright. This. This is interesting. This fully encapsulates the dynamic that these two have shared. Emerie knows that Hemlock only values things that are useful, and probably only sees her own value in the light of what she can contribute, due to how she was raised and the circumstances she has been trapped in. Hemlock’s tone of voice implies that he has never considered her as being the new chief scientist, and yet he acquiesces quite quickly, almost as though he’s just too busy to think about it and if it means things are brought back up to production standard then he’s fine with it. His utter disregard for Emerie as an actual human and someone with merit is disgusting though.

- But I get it, the man’s busy, he’s got a lot of evil shit he’s trying to do all at the same time 🙄

- So we have “the assets”, which is the area that Hemlock took Palpatine in the first episodes, where the orange containment pods are and the zillo beast is being kept. We still don’t know what those assets are. The Vault is something different.

- Well. Shit. It’s Andor and Narkina 5 for kids. Lovely 😳💀

- “There are few adults left with such characteristics” I WONDER IN THE NAME OF ONE EMPEROR PALPATINE WHY

- Okay so this entire exchange is awful. The kids are so cute! Hemlock is so cold. “Specimens. Assets” ughhh Emerie what are you getting yourself into!!

- Is this the first time we’ve heard the word glasses in Star Wars?

- Oh no. So THIS is why Cad Bane was brought back 🥺🥺

- The score in this episode is perfectly eerie

- Lol Todo is not good with kids huh 🤣

- That poor mama when she wakes up and finds her baby is gone

- I hope that dude has his entire life flash before his eyes as he’s trying to pick all of those credits up

- “My name’s Eva” 🥹🥹🥹 Emerie has no idea how to handle this 😂

- I still wanna know what’s happened with these commandos. No way a clone of Jango Fett is able to look a child in the eyes, call them a “specimen” and not have even an ounce of remorse as they stun them point blank.

- “Jax?” And Eva just points. The power in knowing someone’s name vs a dehumanizing number

- It’s also interesting that these kids are species that are red, blue, and green, and when they get Bayrn in, he’s white. RGB colors make up white light when put together.

- The little peeks of Emerie’s backstory we keep getting are so interesting. She was abandoned by Nala Se. She knows that these children don’t belong here, the same way that Omega told both her and Crosshair that they didn’t belong here either. Nala Se says that the Empire will hold these kids to control them. Emerie feels like she has no power to do anything differently. So much to unpack here.

- Why is Tarkin’s holo so large?

- Lol I honestly love getting to see the backbiting politics of how the Empire functions. It’s so bad and so funny

- Also love that Project Necromancer is so secret that even Tarkin doesn’t know what it is. He’s so nosy

- Okay why does he bring up the CX schematic again and why is it so different than the one we saw earlier??

- Whoa Cid was tortured???

- “The other operatives aren’t ready to join you in the field” why????

- We’re visiting a lot of space stations this season

- Man I wish Emerie had fudged this test

- Nooo let the poor baby go home 🥺

- Oh and now we’re putting kids in solitary confinement. Great.

- C’mon Emerie. Keep clicking that moral compass until it points north

- She kept the straw Lula. She’s giving it to Eva 😭. There’s hope for her yet

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #star wars #the bad batch spoilers #Emerie karr #tbb s3 #the bad batch season 3

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thefangirlofhp · 6 months

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20. helping hand

The children swarming Elain’s surroundings are busy as a hive as they run around shouting and jumping—on paper, they are technically helping set up breakfast but Elain’s been calling out the same instructions ten times without being heard, and can feel her voice stretch thin in her throat. She minds her steps, careful not to topple over any runaway toddler or crawling babies, as she brings out all the eggs from the kitchen.

There are a few older children, thankfully, who have proven to be enormous help to their caretakers and are actually helping Elain set up breakfast and enforce a sense of order on the other children. It’s a notable effort, but useless in the face of an excitement that is contagious and proliferative.

“You know they’re not usually like this,” Lalita, one of the only two caregivers, tells Elain as they set the table. “But they get very excited when you come.”

“I am sorry,” Elain smiles, not feeling very remorseful; it isn’t conceivably possible to be upset at being the source of joy to someone, much less displaced orphans from the war.

“Don’t be, we need all the help we can get,” Lalita replies with a charming smile.

“There’s still no-one to help you?” Elain inquires. “I thought Mr. Horace would be employing three new people by now.”

Lalita scoffs. “He did promise that. Last year. I keep sending comprehensive letters explaining in great detail our requirements but if he doesn’t reply, he makes vague promises.”

“Do you know why?” Elain frowns, distributing bread slices on mismatched colorful plates that Drisa, one of the older children, dutifully spreads out along the long dining table.

Lalita shrugs, giving the pot of oatmeal a final stir before pouring a serving in a bowl. “What else? Funding deficiency.”

“Money?” Elain repeats, a little incredulous. If there’s anything she’s learnt about Prythian, and the Night Court’s star, Velaris, then it is that money is never a problem in the court. Being the geographically largest court afforded many sources of revenue, especially with the mines in the mountains and even with the recent war and the detrimental losses that Amarantha’s reign cost them, they’re still pulling ahead of every other court.

She’s not sure how the economy works here, or how the court exactly allocates its funds, but from the mere salaries of the people around her, like the twins, Elain’s arrived at a conclusion that everyone in the court is well-off. Her own weekly allowance from her sister (something admittedly embarrassing to receive, and one she’s tried to protest much to the pointed deafness of Feyre and Rhys) is more than she deserves, allows her to indulge in luxury and even donate much of it.

“Mhm,” Lalita nods. “It’s always not enough, when I request new mattresses for the children or furniture. Or when a new season comes, and the children are due for a wardrobe upgrade—I do make do with what I have, you know. Hand-me-downs and cutting corners, but it’s getting too much.”

Elain frowns. “Where does the funding come from? I’m certain that the High Lord and Lady alone donate enough to give the children a life of luxury.”

Lalita quirks a brow. “I’m certain they do. A lot of people give a lot of attention to the children, but all donations are given to the charity, and its chairmale divvies it up how he sees fit. Apparently he doesn’t see fit to increase the budget, or so Mr. Horace claims but I’ve heard that he’s recently acquired lands down south.”

Elain stills. “What’s his name?”

***

“Can I ask you something?”

It is fortunate that Elain waited until Azriel’s had dinner to ambush him—a kind exaggeration of what she actually does which is waits until he walks into the living room and pipe up with the question from the other side. Thankfully Rhys is outside, speaking with Amren over a matter “of great importance” but Elain knows it’s an excuse for Amren to indulge in her strange-smelling cigar which Rhys claims he does not partake in but evidence suggests otherwise.

Azriel pauses, and courteously bows his head, his hands tucked behind his back. He rounds the couch and stands close by.

“Can I—” Elain hesitates, wringing her hands. “Would it be ethical of you to disclose some information that by nature of its obtainment is not meant to be public knowledge?”

Azriel’s eyes sharpen, and gleam, from what Elain feels is a cloud of hazy darkness that dims his surroundings. His lips curve. “No, it wouldn’t.”

She bites her lip tightly.

A curious smile. “But that’s not what you meant to ask, anyway.”

“No,” she confesses quietly.

“And I am not an ethical male.”

She perks up. “Truly?”

His eyebrows curve and twist as he shrugs. “What do you need it for?”

“A good cause,” she reassures.

“I didn’t think you’d do this for personal gain, my lady,” Azriel smiles. “Well, I suppose I can afford you the curtesy of not asking—what do you need?”

Her hands drop to her sides—so easily, just like that? Elain was going to request sensitive information that neither she nor anyone should have, and Azriel the spymaster whose responsibility is to reassure it remains for his ears only is fine with it?

“There’s a male, he’s responsible for the charity sponsoring an orphanage I volunteer at, sometimes,” Elain elaborates, gesturing Azriel sit down as she takes a seat at an armchair. “There’s a sneaky suspicion I have that some…embezzlement is afoot.”

“Oh,” Azriel remarks, reclining in an armchair across her. “That’s a very serious accusation, Elain.”

“Oh I know,” she emphasizes, wringing her hands. “Which is why I need proof, or something to use to set him straight.”

“Orphanages are well-looked after,” Azriel runs a scarred hand through his hair, and pats it down. “Why do you suspect?”

“I mean the charity itself has claimed to its employees a shortage in funds,” Elain pulls out a scroll from the pocket of her dress bearing the notes she’s made. “I’ve interviewed a few people in charge, and I’ve seen the records. What funds are being allocated to the charity from the court and private donations would never dry out so quickly. It’s impossible. There is a fortune missing, but I’ve been chasing dead-ends, and cannot find substantial or reliable records. And the charity refused my request to see the books.”

Azriel’s brows narrow. “What do you need?”

“Any information I can use, on Lord Chester.”

His brows rise. “Lord Chester is—”

“I know. I know—a well-respected member of society and courtier—”

“I was actually going to say he’s a nasty piece of work.”

Elain freezes, before a laugh escapes her. Something tells her ‘piece of work’ would not be Azriel’s choice of words, normally, and appreciates the curtesy. A spymaster with manners, how rare. How wonderful. “Really?”

Azriel grimaces as if the mere mention of the male reminded him of a bad smell. “Oh of course. I never liked him. He’s been in the court for far longer than I have, and I couldn’t stomach him from my first day.”

Elain briskly waves away the image of Azriel being a novice at court. “Would you help me, then? I need some form of leverage over him. Something to make him let me see the books.”

“He’ll never willingly hand over evidence to his crimes.”

Elain nods. “Which…is why I need your help.”

Azriel stares at her for a while before his eyes lighten up in a way she’s never seen them do before. A dangerous grin widens his lips. “Oh,” he sits up slowly, and Elain cannot shake off the resemblance he bears to a predator that’s set its sights on a prey. “You intend to be unethical, which is why you asked after mine own.”

She holds back a smile. “For the children.”

“And luckily for you, my moral compass is broken and I do not like Lord Chester.”

#elain archeron #voluntering at orphanage #azriel shadowsinger #spymaster collaborating with local amateur investigator looking into suspicions of embezzelment #elriel #elriel fic #a silly lil' spies at mission fic #azriel #acotar #elain x azriel #acotar fic #this does have a part 2 btw

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hunieday · 2 months

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Yuki - Daily Life Rabbit chat part 2 - Red Light Green Light

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Takanashi Tsumugi: Thank you for your hard work. I might arrive a little late for today’s drama shoot due to another engagement…!

Takanashi Tsumugi: I look forward to greeting you as soon as I arrive, thank you very much.

Yuki: Thank you for going out of your way

Yuki: Please accept the pen case from Okarin

Takanashi Tsumugi: Understood. I apologize for the inconvenience...!

Yuki: Be careful on your way here

Yuki: We're currently shooting a scene with Yamato-kun and Minami-kun.

Takanashi Tsumugi: The scene where the two rookie detectives chase after the escaping criminal, right...!

Yuki: That’s right. They’re rivals, they don’t get along, so they pin the blame on each other and say “it’s your fault he ran away” as they chase after him.

Yuki: It's a comical but tense scene, so it's quite challenging.

Yuki: It’s supposed to be the gripping opening scene for the drama, so the director’s being particular about it and they had to reshoot many times.

CHOICE:

1) How is Yamato-san doing?

Yuki: The scene involves a lot of running so it’s tough, but he's doing his best. He actively listens to what the director has to say to understand his intentions.

2) How is Natsume-san doing?

Yuki: His delicate facial expressions are excellent. Looks like the experience he’s built up since he was a child actor is seeping into his acting.

3) What did you two chat about?

Yuki: We talked about grabbing dinner after the shoot. Apparently there’s a delicious shop nearby that sells tomato ramen.

Yuki: It’s cool outside, but the sun is blazing, so it must be difficult to run.

Yuki: They were playing in the park earlier, aren’t they tough?

Takanashi Tsumugi: They were playing during your break?

Yuki: That's right.

Yuki: They were playing "Red light Green light" with the child actors.

Takanashi Tsumugi: How nostalgic...! I used to play it a lot when I was little!

Yuki: It had been a long time for me as well

Yuki: I was sweating bullets when they asked me to play tag at first

Takanashi Tsumugi: You managed to avoid it! LOL

Yuki: Yup. Minami-kun must have sensed it and suggested playing "Red light Green light"

Yuki: I started to see a halo shining around him

Takanashi Tsumugi:

Yuki: Just standing in the shade of a tree was good enough for me. He saved my butt

Takanashi Tsumugi: Yuki-san, were you "it" by any chance?

Yuki: You figured it out fast

Takanashi Tsumugi: You don’t have to move much when you’re “it”, so I thought it might be the case...!

Yuki: As expected of Maneko-chan ^^

Yuki: Yamato-kun likes to save his energy and stands still every time, so I kept it entertaining by changing the speed and specifying poses on purpose.

Takanashi Tsumugi: What kind of poses did you instruct?

Yuki: A banana pose for example, while raising both hands diagonally

Yuki: It was a great hit with the kids ^^

Yuki: Yamato-kun is pretty good at handling children. He approached those who were left out and generally was a good big bro

Takanashi Tsumugi: He often plays with little kids on other sets as well.

Takanashi Tsumugi: One time a child who co-starred with him cried at the end of a shoot because they wanted to play with him more...

Takanashi Tsumugi: He tried to reassure them by inviting them to play again... but Yamato-san seemed lonely as well…><

Yuki: Then he might feel lonely today too. They were attached to him and even held hands while playing

Takanashi Tsumugi: That might be the case...

Yuki: If that happens, I'll play with him

Takanashi Tsumugi: Yuki-san, you would...!?

Yuki: I'll practice calling him big bro Yamato while I’m at it

Takanashi Tsumugi:

Yuki: I'm looking forward to his reaction

#idolish7 #i7 #idolish7 translation #orikasa yukito #yuki re:vale #re:vale #rabbitchat #id7 #ainana #daily life rabbit chat

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taegularities · 2 years

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right, sorry for not mentioning things earlier 😅 so a fluff drabble for soaring high with tae, oc and jae? a day out! where jae misses oc and tries to call her with tae's phone or something lmaoo

anonymous said: bae i rlly need a drabble to see what souring high!tae is like when they’re finally alone 😮‍💨😮‍💨❤️ u could literally do anything that u want !!

fic: soaring high pairing: dilf!taehyung x reader warnings: a cute son, a cute dad, a cute relationship between said son and oc; tae loves to watch them play. he really is into oc, he just doesn’t say it smh. super sweet dilf!tae <3, explicit sexual content: fingering implied, he bends her over, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it), manhandling, multiple rounds of sex implied, he’s so hungry and a beast, dom!tae, degradation; a whole lotta fluff too <3 wc: 1.5k (damn??) a/n: i thought i could merge those two requests into one !! hope that's okay and that u guys like it 🥰 if u’d like to indulge in the fluff parts only, u can totally stop reading after they drop off jae at his friend’s place. and do lmk what u think! <333 also totally unedited again, i apologise 😭

ask my character! (no more drabble requests, please!) <3

––

The sun shines onto the park pleasantly, the sky an azure blue and busy voices sounding all around. Children are busy exploring every corner of the place; one has been chasing a squirrel for over twenty minutes, Taehyung is sure.

Except his own spawn.

Immersed in the wonders of technology, he taps around Taehyung’s phone; most of the apps don’t interest him much, too adult-y, and too colourless.

His eyes dart between various symbols, not quite sure what to settle on. He sighs, somehow focused on both exploring and rambling. Taehyung has been nodding and humming for half an hour, listening to his son’s stories about kindergarten and teasing girls.

And when the narration ends, Taehyung waits for a moment. Reckons the tale is over, that his son has vented his chest off once and for all – but when he glances over to him, looking down at his wiggling legs and content smile, he realises why silence has descended upon them.

“What... wait, what are you doing?”

The phone rings. And then, your voice chimes through. Jae knows the functions enough to apparently not just recognise the picture Taehyung set for you on his phone, but to put a call on loudspeaker, too.

“Where are you?” Jae yells, and you make a sound that indicates you’re taken aback.

Then, a giggle sounds through the phone, and you fall back into your toddler voice as you ask, “Heyyyy, Jae, how are we doing? I’m at home.”

“Can you come to the park?”

Taehyung watches with furrowed eyebrows, close to snatching the phone from his son before he sees the delight in his boy’s eyes.

“Which park, baby?” you ask, still laughing.

“Uhm... near my kindergarten.”

“Right now?”

“Please?”

“You don’t have to,” Taehyung’s voice interrupts, and Jae looks at him as though he’s noticing just now that his father is right next to him, watching him.

There’s a small pause, a chiming of keys, a hum; then, you say, “It’s okay. I’m not doing anything today anyway.”

Because who are you to deny any request the little man might have? You can’t remember ever saying no – Taehyung says you spoil him too much. You call it “making his kid love me”.

And as he wished, you find yourself in the park around twenty-five minutes later; Jae’s eyes light up – genuinely delighted. Stars in his eyes that resemble the ones in his father’s gaze.

Previously busy with digging holes in the sandbox, he gasps; runs towards you with his little yet fast feet, clinging onto you as if he didn’t see you just last weekend.

Taehyung never says much when Jae and you play around. He enjoys the scene, enjoys the way you whisper secrets into each other’s ears; or how you let him win every game of rock, paper, scissors.

How he chuckles and falls back onto the couch when you crack a stupid joke or tell him a story from work.

“I forgot the shovel,” he tells you loudly, looking at you wide wide, shocked eyes. “We can’t make a sandcastle!”

“Oh no!” you exclaim; both your gazes drift to Taehyung’s, seeking help.

“Daddy, can I go and get it?”

But his beloved father kills both your hopes with one shake of his head, wiggling a finger as he says, “You’re invited at Chae’s. Maybe she has a shovel and you can play in her garden.”

“But–”

Jae looks between you and his dad, pleading and innocent.

“You can’t let a friend wait, Jae,” Taehyung scolds, standing from the bench. The beige slacks are smooth, hugging his waist where he tucked his white shirt in. The shape of his body is so alluring – the curves, edges and bulges leave nothing to imagination.

As always.

And your insides keep buzzing. Keep twirling as you look at him. Watch him talk to Jae, smiling softly, talking to him, reprimanding him. Telling him that he’d pick him up around eight, and that he needs to behave if he wants to eat his favourite pasta dish tonight.

Before you know it, you’re left alone with the man who asked for your number after a flight months ago. The man who rearranged your insides, anything but shy, a demon and lovely father at once.

But now that you look at him, his eyes are tender. Sweet and soft, housing care for not just his son and his relationship to you, but for you as a person, too.

Taehyung’s two-story-flat isn’t too far from little Chae’s house, so you decide to walk the small distance to his place.

Being alone with Taehyung never really comes with awkwardness. It has become your own personal source of comfort; one you cherish. One you think back to when the moments are over.

“What were you doing all day?” he asks, thumbs in the pockets of his pants.

“Was just rewatching my favourite show. I’m glad you guys called.”

“Well... Jae called.”

“Yeah, technically,” you say, smiling, your steps slow and relaxed.”

“Gilmore Girls, was it?” Taehyung then guesses, squinting one eye shut in concentration.

“You remember my favourite show? That’s flattering.”

“I uh,” he starts, swallowing, “I remember your favourite dessert, too. And your favourite drink. If you want, we could...”

You wait, looking at him in anticipation; he looks sweet when he’s shy. Utterly different from when he batters your body. He licks his plush lips, and you wait some more before you ask, “Yeah?”

“If you want, we could go to my place, and... eat some dessert?”

You laugh.

You know what that means.

First he eats his favourite dessert – pretty much swallows it whole. Then he lets you eat yours.

And then, he finally opens his fridge and takes out the actual delicacy.

“You know my dearest pastime,” you tell him, and he laughs.

“Jae was missing you.”

“Although we met last week?”

“Mmmh, honestly, he can’t ever stop talking about you anyway.”

And Taehyung enjoys it. Loves to hear your name, basks in the pictures of you that his son calls forth.

“And,” he hesitates, licking his lips again, “I talk about you a lot, too.”

You almost halt in your steps; your heart falls down deep and lands in front of his feet. It does the same whenever he mumbles things like these – you might never get used to it.

“What is it that you talk about?” you ask.

“Just... I ask him what he thinks of you. Then I tell him what I think of you.”

“And what you think of me is...”

“Is for me to know and for you to find out.”

“Unfair.”

You hit his shoulder playfully right when you arrive in front of his entrance door. One hand of his holds his keys – but the other grabs your softly violent wrist, tugging your body close before he whispers, “Gonna treat you fairly to make it all good... ‘kay?”

Here he is. The beast you know.

The beast you still haven’t grown used to. The beast who pulls you inside his apartment, pushes you against the door. Growls against your skin, holding your arms over your head.

Mumbling curses against your flesh, eyes closed, groaning and lost.

He licks a trail along your neck. Tugs at your panties, shifting up your dress.

Taehyung’s slender fingers explore your shivering body, digging deep where you want him most.

“Pretty little cum dumpster,” he murmurs in between his actions; words so sore, actions so raw. “Prettiest woman in this neighbourhood.”

“Just this neighbourhood, huh?” you moan, laughing, eliciting a chuckle out of him as well.

“Just scared to use the word universe, ‘cause... you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

You want to remark something, but words die in your throat once he bends you over his desk, pushing away his books and stationery.

His cock is throbbing, hard, slick with his own spit when he enters you caringly. A hand rests on the small of your back, the other holding your wrists under your shoulder blades.

He caresses your skin, pumps into you harshly, harder, a deep baritone assuring, “You’re the fucking best pussy I’ve ever fucked. God, I wanna... wanna–”

“Wha– what?”

“I don’t want you to be able to walk for fucking days, baby.”

He says that every time. And he keeps the promise every time.

His hand comes down to clutch the flesh of your ass tightly, slapping against it, pushing it up; and then, he repeats. Until your bottom feels bruised, aching and tingling.

Just how you like it best – he knows.

And when his thumb circles your clit, feeling your cunt clench around his veiny, thick cock, he lets go the moment you do. Synchronised, crazed, loud.

“Fuck, fuck, yeah, I–”

“Taehyung, I can’t feel... my limbs.”

Of course you can’t. His grip cuts off the bloodstream in your arms, and your legs jiggle like pudding, close to giving out.

But his arms are strong and steady. Keep you afloat, his body pressed against yours.

He keeps you close, panting against your ears, ready for another round after your beloved dessert.

He wonders, “What do you think how many rounds we can go before I need to pick up Jae again?”

Cheeks pressed against the cold desk, you smile, readying your body for an evening of exhaustion and pleasure. Digging your nails into your palm, you wet your dry lips, open your eyes and say, “Let’s find out.”

DAMN THIS WAS........ longer than expected holy. please do let me know what u think !! <333

#this drabble took ages pls lmk what u think if u read it !! 🥺#taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #bts fluff #bts smut #*amc: soaring high #*amc #fic: soaring high #notes for rid 🌹#lili <3 #anon

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abbatoirablaze · 7 days

Text

Behind Closed Doors, Chapter 7

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: cursing, slight angst, angry Chris Evans.

“Fuck!”

“Hey...what’s wrong?”

You turned; eyes wide as you looked at your boyfriend. He glanced over your shoulder and saw a picture of him pushing the covered stroller with you on TMZ.

“Is that...”

“Yeah...”

“How did they-”

“I don’t know!” you proclaimed, cutting him off, “Sebastian...what are we going to do?”

He sat down beside you on the couch and looked at the laptop. You had come across the article by chance.

‘Mystery woman with Gossip Girl star, Sebastian Stan’ the title read. The caption below it said ‘Actor Sebastian Stan ferrying mystery woman and a set of children around set of Kings. Secret love children?’

“Shit...baby. I didn’t know that anyone was around. You know how I feel about paparazzi.” he frowned, “and you know that I wouldn’t have brought the kids on set if I knew something was going on. We’re careful about it on Gossip Girl…I-I thought that Kings would be the same way.”

“I got a pretty angry voicemail from Chris about it already,” you admitted, biting your lip, “he doesn’t want the kids to be photographed. And if I’m being honest, I’m pretty nervous about it too…what if people really start asking questions?”

“I know,” he replied, “which was a reason why we originally opted for the covered stroller. So, the twins wouldn’t be seen.”

“I tried to tell him that in a text, but he didn’t want to hear it. Apparently just seeing the stroller was enough for him to call,” you frowned, “he’s blowing up my phone…and I really don’t want to deal with that call back to him today…”

“He’s just trying to push your buttons (Y/N).”

“Well, it’s working,” you sighed, “I feel like the only time he reaches out is to bitch at me about how I’m raising the twins. I mean, he never asks how they’re doing. He missed their birthday party when they turned one because he was busy filming somewhere…I mean, Scott and his sisters always check in…and his mom messages me saying that she misses the babies. But both of his parents were here for their birthday party…he’s the only one not invested in them unless he’s complaining.”

“I can call him if you want!”

Your eyes widened and you were quick to shut your laptop and push it to the side, “Sebastian, no. The last thing I need is for Chris to start freaking out because of how involved you are with the twins lives already. Remember last month when he called because his mom saw that the twins got a haircut?”

“In all fairness, I apologized for leaving my trimmer out...i didn’t think Johnny would get up there on the counter.”

“That boy is an escape artist I’m telling you!” you sighed, laughing at the memory, “he’s only one and he managed to somehow get past the baby gates.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, (Y/N),” Chris growled across the video call, “my mom said that Johnny has a buzzcut. Why does a toddler have a buzzcut? Last time I’d gotten pictures from you his hair was over his ears.”

“You were telling me that I should take him to get a haircut anyways, Chris,” you tried, “I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You said that he was starting to look like more of a girl than Shayla was because of how long his hair is getting.”

“First off, because you didn’t consult me on it,” he growled, his frustration visible even over the internet call, “secondly, because it wasn’t planned. You had to take him to get a haircut after he got into Sebastian’s grooming supplies-”

“It was an accident, Chris.”

“He left his beard trimmer out,” he growled, “what if Johnny actually hurt himself, huh?”

“He left it in our master bathroom,” you reasoned, “Johnny crawled up the stairs and scaled the baby gate while I was giving Shayla a bath. And Sebastian was making dinner so-”

“He should have been keeping an eye on him. Or you should have. What if he fell down the stairs when he was trying to climb the baby gate?” Chris asked, “This could have been a serious injury, (Y/N)!”

“I know, Chris…but the twins don’t like sharing bath time anymore and Sebastian said tha-“

“Sebastian’s not their father, I AM!”

“THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD ACT LIKE IT,” You yelled into your phone, “YOU NEVER SEE THEM. YOU NEVER CALL THEM. YOU MISSED THEIR BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR CH-“

“I WAS FILMING!” He screamed back. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you looked at your boyfriend. He sighed and gave you a knowing look.

“I-I don’t want to start another screaming match, Chris…” you sighed after another second, sniffling back your tears.

You could hear his heavy sigh on the other side of the line, “Me either…”

“I know I messed up, Chris…”

“The point is our son cut all his hair off because you and your boyfriend couldn’t keep an eye on him.” He reiterated, “and I wasn’t even told about it…my mom told me when she saw him at the party.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to fight.”

“Well I need you to be smart enough to acknowledge that you and your boy toy almost got my son hurt!”

“Fuck you, Chris!” you growled, hanging up on him. You watched as his name popped up on your phone once more, and you threw it away from yourself on the couch, not wanting to deal with him for the time being.

“You okay?”

You sighed in anger, not realizing that you had started to cry, you were surprised when Sebastian handed Johnny off to you and your baby boy started wiping the tears away.

“No cry...mama...no.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you sighed, grabbing his small, chubby hands, “it’s okay, baby. Mama is okay. She just-she just is a little sad.”

“Nooo!” he cooed, reaching out to you so that he could grab your face in his little hands, “no mama.”

“It’s okay, baby!”

“Well, he’s right,” your boyfriend said playfully as he sat down with a sleepy Shayla snuggling into him, “we don’t want you to be sad.”

You sighed again and leaned into his free side.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and Johnny crawled between the two of you, snuggling up as well.

“You okay?” he asked after a few minutes.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sebastian...” you nodded, “you’ve done so much for us...”

“I’m just doing what any man should!” he said simply, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, “don’t pay attention to what anyone says about how we’re raising the kids...you’re doing an amazing job, baby...”

“I needed to hear that!” you admitted, snuggling into his side, “thank you, Sebastian...for always being so caring and protecting...and loving.”

“I’ll always protect you, baby.”

“I did it!”

Your brow raised as you looked at him, “What did you do?”

He only smiled as he sat down his laptop in front of you. You could see a picture, and it looked like someone had superimposed the image so that there were two of him.

“What is this?” you asked curiously, “what did you do, Sebastian?”

But he only smiled, “the answer to all of our problems with the paparazzi.”

“What?”

“I talked to a few of the girls...and the pr team, and we came up with the most amazing plan,” he smiled, “we convinced the world that they didn’t see the person they thought they were seeing.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a twin!”

“Shut up, no you’re not!” you laughed.

He pushed the laptop closer to you, and you looked more intricately at the page.

‘Seeing Double: actor Sebastian Stan has a twin!’

“Read it!” he encouraged.

“Sebastian, this is obviously a fake picture,” you laughed, “no one is going to buy this.”

“Read it!” he repeated.

“Actor Sebastian Stan came clean last week when we posted a picture of what we thought was him with a mystery woman and a stroller, but as it turns out, Sebastian Stan is not Sebastian at all,” you began, reading the story in disbelief, “Sebastian...what did you-”

“Keep reading.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you looked at the next paragraph, “the Romanian born actor is actually a twin. And his name is not Sebastian Stan, either. Sebastian Stan is the combination of both of their names. Sebastian, is actually just Seb Stan, while Bastian is a happily taken man with two children, living a quiet life in upstate New York.”

You gasped.

He smiled, “Keep going, baby.”

“We got to meet Seb’s brother last week when he came up with the kids to visit his brother, and girlfriend, Seb’s personal assistant, commented co-star Blake Lively,” you read on, “we were surprised to find out about his brother, and didn’t really believe his personal assistant for a while, about Bastian or the twins, but it’s hard to ignore it when you have two people who look like your co-star in the same room, and two babies calling one of them da da.”

Your eyes went between him and the laptop, your mouth parting, but no words leaving your lips. You read the rest of the article and how it talked about how you and ‘Bastian,’ had met through mutual friends and you’d taken the job with Seb after he needed help maintaining his schedule. But then it also went on to say that ‘Bastian’ was deeply private, and preferred that he stay out of the media because of his finance career.

“I told you that I’d always protect you baby,” he offered, reaching out to stroke your hand, “And it took me a while, but I did come up with that...and people are buying it.”

“How did you get people to go along with it?”

“Well, Blake was an easy sell,” he smiled, “anyone that’s met you, really. Everyone loves you, baby...and they want to protect you and the kids as much as I do.”

You felt your stomach turning at the thought. Bile rose up in the back of your throat.

“Sebastian...th-there’s something that I should tell you...”

His brows furrowed, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“I-”

But you froze, your eyes going wide when your son toddled into the living room, babbling while holding onto a piece of plastic.

“Hey...whatcha got, buddy?” Sebastian asked, reaching out for the plastic that Johnny was holding onto.

“Oh no...”

“Baby, what’s this?” Sebastian asked slowly as he pulled the stick from his hands. He looked at it for a second, and then it was like everything clicked. He held it up, the little lines facing you, “i-is this a pregnancy test?”

You nodded slowly, biting your bottom lip as your boyfriend examined it.

“Ye-yeah...it is...”

“Baby...ar-are you pregnant?”

Chapter 8

#behind closed doors #gossip girl #chris evans #sebastian stan #sebastian stan c #sebastian stan characters

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hexalianrebel-blackfeathers · 6 months

Text

The Blackblood Files--Subject 023887

((REMINDER TO ALL STAFF: MAKE SURE TO CHECK THE END OF FILES FOR THE MOST RECENT NOTES.))

The Blizzard

Awareness: 1C (Appears to move instinctively toward crowded areas; makes no attempt to disguise itself beyond its form.)

Receptivity: 4B (Submits to testing easily; has an aversion to being touched, with very few exceptions. Seems to understand speech, but makes little to no effort to communicate with staff.)

Whereabouts: CONTAINED

Upon taking form, this Blackblood resembles a figure in a heavy hooded winter coat, along with layers including a thick scarf, hat, mittens, and heavy leather boots. [The scarf has a line of feathers made star shapes stitched along its center, resembling Hexalia’s Mark and implying that its neck is a weak spot it’s protecting; it is important to note that the host The Blizzard is controlling does not share a matching Mark, nor a Mark on their neck at all. Research is still being conducted to confirm or deny working theories.] It never makes an effort or shows desire to remove any of these accessories, and it grows agitated when it perceives any outside attempts to do so. The body underneath, if any, is impossible to see aside from occasionally glowing eyes.

The Blizzard exudes an aura of intense cold which it controls with apparently effortless skill. Even in artificial high-heat conditions, it is able to render its surroundings to near arctic conditions, as well as appearing comfortable despite temperature changes. As the epicenter of this aura, it keeps aggressors away by quite literally freezing them out. Observation and testing have shown that it is fully capable of manipulating the size and barometrics of its aura. This is to say, wherever it goes, The Blizzard is able to lower the temperature enough to cause localized snow flurries. There is debate among research groups on whether to classify this ability as true weather manipulation or simply a summon. [Addendum: Observation has shown that as trust is built with the Blizzard, it will allow certain others close enough to touch it. It seems particularly fond of being hugged. Reports made state that its touch is actually warm despite its cold aura being inches away.]

Its method of hunting, if one can call it that, is…contrived, to say the least. Upon its initial rediscovery, we set it loose on a small city nearby. It seemed content to wander aimlessly, mostly avoiding interacting with others. But its aura was spreading the entire time, and within 72 hours, the entire city (and approximately 2 miles into surrounding areas) was blanketed by strange-colored clouds and covered in unseasonable snow. While most of said snow was normal water, researchers observed certain flurries that appeared in odd colors: a sort of mix of purple and green breezes within the fog of white. Observations and the few conversations with civilians has revealed that these flurries consist of some sort of ice magic--a crystalized potion, we believe--that blends into snow by resembling snowflakes. When these flakes come in contact with skin, the potion quickly melts and causes a ticklish sensation that only spreads based on how much exposure the victim has. We have observed instances of children and teenagers pushing each other into snowbanks and being rendered immobile with laughter as the snow melts into their coats. The Blizzard, apparently, does not necessarily need to be near victims when they’re laughing, so long as they remain within its aura.

With painstaking effort, samples of snow were collected and specimens of these snowflakes were isolated. Researchers have nicknamed them “Feather Flakes” for ease of reference in files; they need to be kept at subzero temperatures when outside of the Blizzard’s aura to maintain crystalized structure, and, despite resembling snowflakes, each of them appear identical. From over 200 specimens inspected under magnification, only one shape has been identified: a sort of six-petaled flower, with each petal slightly resembling the feathers stitched into the Blizzard's scarf. [Addendum: Research and Development has managed to create a concentrated Feather Flake potion. DO NOT INGEST under any circumstance. Experiments are still being conducted at varying levels of dilution.]

The Blizzard only begins to show active hostility after reaching a “starved” state. After two weeks of constant, isolated containment, the Blackblood showed signs of restlessness. When test prey was offered, it suddenly attacked by exhaling a focused blast of cold air apparently consisting mostly of its Feather Flakes. When its hunger was sated, its behavior became nervous, as if it were regretful of its actions. This was the first recorded instance of the Blizzard initiating physical contact; it hugged its prey close until its potion wore off and their laughter subsided. It is unknown if its embrace reduced the needed recovery time; further testing is planned. [Addendum: Due to recent discoveries, the Blizzard is no longer permitted to have close physical contact with certain staff members. Those newly assigned are advised not to indulge its requests for attention.] [Addendum 2: If she whispers, you are to ignore her pleas.]

NOTICE TO ALL ASSIGNED STAFF: Be advised that this file is slated to be locked and archived indefinitely. Please turn in any personally-kept notes and report final observations on this Blackblood before its relocation.

Final Conditions:

Awareness: 4A (Reportedly capable of speech. Openly expresses emotion and seeks fulfilment aside from hunting.)

Receptivity: 3A (Still submits to commands and testing, but openly shows fear of certain staff members. Reports show failed attempts to conspire with its original handlers. Likely developing distrust and potentially attempting to deceive newer staff. Relocation is advised to be expedited.)

==========

Amalgamate #7: The Whiteout

Components: The Blizzard // The Tagger

Awareness: 3B (Performs strategic hunting tactics without being instructed. Occasionally ignores commands in favor of instinct. Learns quickly.)

Receptivity: 3C (Standoffish with certain members of staff. Acknowledges commands of those that have built trust with it. Rarely hostile to staff. No current reports of active rebellion)

Status: Complacent // Restless // Healthy

This Amalgamate was created and implanted in The Tagger’s host in an attempt to mitigate his rebellious behavior with The Blizzard’s compliance. It was awoken from stasis with no detectable complications and sent for testing immediately. Receptivity and Recall testing showed satisfactory results. The Whiteout performed several levels of tasks on command and returned to its handlers when called, even while outside without restraints. Because of the Tagger’s Trueblood bond with its host, the Amalgamate’s form builds around his body instead of fully overshadowing him upon transformation. The Blizzard’s heavy coat has been replaced with a sort of trench coat tied tightly at the waist with The Blizzard’s scarf. The Tagger’s original hazmat-type suit can be seen underneath, and its mask, now bearing a large Feather Flake design, appears to have been fused with The Blizzard’s original hat. The Whiteout’s hands and feet are covered by thick gloves and boots respectively, both wrapped tightly at the cuffs of its sleeves and pant legs to seal out the cold.

The Whiteout’s magical abilities consist of both the Blizzard’s aura and the Tagger’s summoning capabilities, with the former having gained an exponential boost in range and power. After proper preparations, the Amalgamate was deployed into Settlement S-F-TS-4 (See: Crater). It seemed to actively avoid interactions with locals, only rarely approaching undercover staff members before avoiding them as well. Said staff members reported sightings of the Amalgamate spray painting symbols in secluded parts of the city, mostly along its borders; its paint appears white, purple, or green, but fades to visibly nothing after a few hours, as if it were snow melting to water. Supplied photos and recreations don’t match any of the Tagger’s original repertoire, but certain symbols incorporate the Blizzard’s Feather Flakes into their patterns. Researchers are assigned in groups of two to monitor the areas these symbols are placed in twice a day. As of Observation Day 4 , the Whiteout has not attempted direct attacks, and while temperatures throughout the city have been quickly declining, no active phenomena has occurred.

Recent reports and observations have captured the Whiteout’s most basic hunting method. It tends to lure or follow prey to secluded areas at night, cornering them before using its spray cans to blast a colorful haze into their face. This gas attack is nearly identical to that of the Tagger, but the resulting reaction is much stronger, rendering victims hoarse with laughter from even small doses. [Addendum: The Whiteout was called into the local base for testing, and, through sample collection, it was confirmed that this gas is an aerosolized version of the substance Feather Flakes are made of. Based on staff testing, this version, despite being somewhat diluted, causes near full-body reactions by simply being inhaled.] The Amalgamate has been seen both abandoning its prey after subduing them and occasionally staying beside them, as if to console them before it flees. Staff has made sure to intercept any locals that recognize the Amalgamate after its attacks. Concurrent records show that the Amalgamate appears to be growing restless, wearing its mask more often and returning to areas where it has placed symbols.

As of Observation Day 10, Temperatures within the Settlement have reached the average of the Blizzard’s original aura, and its chill can reportedly be felt for miles beyond the walls. Locals have been fascinated by the falling snow, given the local climate, but rumors have been steadily increasing surrounding the Whiteout’s presence and the increase in disappearances. Several locals said to be missing are not within the custody of staff. The Amalgamate has been making itself more scarce: actively avoiding most of its handlers and other staff when they approach. Noted sightings over the past two days have included notes regarding its appearance; its clothing and accessories have all begun changing color to a stark, bright white, which has now become uniform across its entire body. For the first time since its awakening, it has painted a face on its mask: the same smile the Tagger used.

==============

The following Audio Transmissions were received and recorded overnight between Observation Days 11 and 12. Consult the provided transcript as necessary. ===== (21:13) Handler 1: This is Handler 1! We’ve lost sight of the Amalgamate! It’s not responding to its signals, and this fog is blocking the cameras. [Clothes rustle in the background; a door opens, and screams can be faintly heard] We’re heading out to find it ourselves. Visibility is already low. Requesting precautionary backup. Rendezvous with us in town square. (22:00) [Footsteps can be heard running through snow, with scattered laughter somewhere in the distance. The radio falls into the snow as someone coughs and giggles softly.] It’s the fog… [The radio is pulled back; the voice is clear aside from their growing laughter.] Don’t breathe the--[Something roars in the distance; the radio falls as the voice is lost in loud laughter.] ///////////////// (00:28) Hello? T-This is [REDACTED], Researcher 7, of the Crater Division reporting from my Residential Acc--Look, um, listen, please. I’m in my house with my thermostat pushing 90 degrees, and it’s like nothing is changing. I’ve sent in today’s--or yesterday’s?--temperature reports already, but there’s been a sudden drop. I-It’s so cold, I can’t sleep. [She laughs wryly before pausing] Ah… Oh, that isn’t… Is the Observatory seeing this? How long--I have no messages about this. It’s a complete haze outside; visibility is next to nothing, m-maybe 20 feet. I can’t even see across the road; the closest lamppost is near covered in snow and… The snow is up to the truck tires. Okay, this isn’t anything like the expected conditions; please advise. (00:40) Researcher 7: This is Researcher 7. Block 4. All of the windows are frozen shut. I’ve woken the others, and they don’t have any notice about this either. [Someone calls her name; Her voice shakes as she walks to the source.] I’ve tried to make contact with the Handlers, but no one is picking up. How long has the weather been like this? Researcher 5: [REDACTED], I can’t find anyone on the cameras. Half of them are all snowed to hell anyway. Security 14: I’ve been going back through the feeds. It’s not good. Researcher 7: …S-Sirs. Requesting Emergency Evacuation. We’re entering a Code 5. Alert all staff. //////////////// (03:27) …This… This is [REDACTED]. I’m Security Officer 22 in the Crater, and… How long were you going to wait to tell us? Did you know? I know you won’t respond, but I want to make sure that whoever finds this knows: They were right. They were always right.

==============

As of Observation Day 20, the Whiteout’s storm has yet to subside. Surveillance equipment is only rarely picking up any sound or activity within the Crater. The Observatory’s main camera cannot pierce the layers of clouds and haze to provide data, and many of the cameras within the city have either frozen in place or become covered in snow. Video logs showed the Whiteout’s various symbols glowing brightly on the night of Day 11; many of them, those bearing the Feather Flake symbol, began emanating the fog that now fills the city streets while others apparently summoned constructs made of snow to assist the Amalgamate in hunting stragglers. Several unmanned drones have been deployed into the Crater in the days since, and, through sample testing, it’s been determined that this haze is highly diluted Feather Flake potion. All data since the storm fell was obtained remotely, as the drones were lost before they could make their way back. Of the total 30 drones sent into the Crater, none have returned. Recovered video data shows the Whiteout or its constructs descending on the drones within minutes of their arrival, regardless of their entry point, suggesting it is able to detect movement anywhere within its aura. Data also contained footage of a home with a light flickering SOS in the window.

Current orders are to maintain constant observation. Continue deploying drones into the Crater at regular intervals to collect data. Keep the Amalgamate’s attention focused until further notice.

We would like to remind all staff that we are grateful for all you do for the Prince’s cause. Your Presence, Your Loyalty, and Your Sacrifice.

=============

Panda's Notes: Hey, it's me! >w< Thanx so much if you read the whole thing; and thanx even more if you enjoyed it! I wrote this for @squealing-santa's warm-up prompt involving "Feather Flakes". Clearly, I got kind of carried away. I'm really proud of this one though, even if it is a bit more monster than tickle. >w< I hope you guys are excited for Squealing Santa!

#a panda says a thing #a panda writes a thing #original story #the Blackblood Files #tickling #Squealing Santa 2k23

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mintywolf · 9 months

Text

A Long Road Home - Author Notes

Page 25

Oh no, I made the whole Bradbury family adorable. (I guess it’s hereditary.)

I’m not sure exactly how old they’re supposed to be; by the time she’s 20 they’re both described as looking “older” but that was after 5 years of Bad Times Whitestone under the Briarwoods. So I’d guess early-mid 30’s? Kinda late (for the setting) to have a toddler. I like the implied fairy-tale motif of a couple who wanted a child for a long time finally ending up with a really weird one.

Imogen and Matilda both had unusually lonely childhoods because, despite both growing up on a farm, they don’t have any siblings. With Imogen it’s explained by Liliana leaving when she’s still a baby and Relvin never remarrying (and since he’s described as in his mid-late 40’s with a 28-year-old daughter, they got married pretty early) but with Matilda I suppose either her parents either couldn’t have more children, or, after all the difficulty they had with her, didn’t want to risk any more. :/

Sooo . . . okay okay okay. If you’re familiar with the show you’ve probably figured out what’s going on here. (If you’re not, don’t worry, Imogen doesn’t know either so it still has to be explained to her as well as the audience. You’re not totally out of the loop here.) There have been a few hints along the way, and a few clever readers picked up on it in advance. (Gold star!)

After Episode 37 I got really excited about the possibility that Imogen coming into contact with Laudna’s soul in the little memory vignettes we see in the shadow realm might have changed, if not the actual past, the memories themselves. (Idk how many people remember this short comic I drew on the subject in between 37 and 38.) Episode 38 did confirm that they managed to influence at least one; she remembers feeling their presence when she was building Pâté, so that a little bit of all of them ended up in him. (Which, given this table, explains a lot about his personality.) But I think, though, that by “it rewrote that memory a little bit” she probably means her experience reliving it in the Domain of Dread and not the actual memory, because she says with them there “it didn’t feel so lonely that time,” so she still has the original memory.

I got really attached to the idea though, and as with my last comic I had kind of wanted to include a slight road-not-taken AU element, something just to the left of canon but within the bounds of possibility presented by it, so it’s not just a straightforward retelling. (Incidentally both twists involved the characters being bonded on a soul-deep level.) Here it’s that Laudna can remember Imogen, in what is still the future for her, meeting her in her past.

That throughout all the loneliest parts of her life she had the memory of this loving presence and a voice that had spoken to her with kindness and told her it was going to be okay. That when she awoke, terrified and alone, from death the first time it was with the memory of having been told, “when it starts to get scary, you just come find us. We’re gonna get you home.” That even in her 30+ years of wandering the earth being chased from hovel to hovel she knew that there was a home somewhere out there in someone who needed and loved her.

I just . . . have a lot of feelings about Episode 37.

It ended up fitting really well with another recurring theme I have planned/written for Laudna in this that will become more apparent as she continues to share her story with Imogen, in that she isn’t a totally reliable narrator, even when she’s letting her into her mind, and she has contrasting memories of why things are the way they are. (Did she, for example, name herself “Laudna” after gothic literature drug of choice laudanum, or because of what she used to sing to Pâté, or, a secret, third thing . . . because it’s what Imogen called her in the past?)

It also, narratively, gives her a reason to come to Marquet in the first place, and gives some direction to her three decades of wandering around. What she said a few pages ago about having been searching for Imogen her entire life wasn’t just romance novel-inspired sappiness. She has actually been searching for her for that long!! (That whole page is probably worth a reread now that you know the thing.)

There have been a few other dropped bread crumbs along the way, which a couple people noticed right from her first appearance when Imogen overhears her thinking that “it probably isn’t even the right town,” implying that she’s looking for one in particular. On the next page there’s also this panel, which, when unblurred by a concussion, looks like this:

Not that significant-looking but it’s also from Episode 37 (and which I only deploy for purposes of inflicting suffering, haha, it is uttered by a 1 hp Matilda in Remember Us too) when Imogen reaches out to Matilda’s mind for the last time and she reaches back in recognition to lay her hand up against hers on the other side of the window.

I think this particular Past Matilda encounter, chronologically the earliest, actually makes the best case for Imogen and the other Hells having reached through the veil somehow. All the other memories they see involve some notable event in her life — she’s creating Pâté, she’s being betrayed and having her heart broken by her first crush, she’s getting ready for the dinner party that’s about to change (and end) her life. But when they meet Matilda at age 3 (an age it’s rare to have many coherent memories of to begin with) she’s not doing anything but playing by herself in the barn. The most memorable thing about it is that it’s the first time she met Imogen.

Now, here’s the conversation from the show with Baby Tillie taking place in panel 1 of this page:

Imogen: Laudna? . . . Matilda? Are you there? Matilda: Yeah? Imogen: I want to find you and help. Can you show me the path? Matilda: I’m just playing by myself. Imogen: Where are you? Matilda: I’m playing in the barn. Imogen. The barn. Is that outside of town? Matilda: Usually. But not today. Imogen: Can you see the tree, honey? Matilda: No, the tree scares me. Imogen: What does the barn look like? Matilda: Well, it’s kind of red, and it’s tall. It’s got big doors on it. I’m up at the top of it. There’s a ladder you take, and I made some dolls. (Pause) Imogen: We’re coming up, honey. Orym: Hey, Matilda. Hey. Are you by yourself here? Imogen: Who are the dolls, honey? Matilda: They’re . . . I made a nice woman, and I made a bird that can take me away from here. Imogen: We can be that bird for you. We can take you away. Matilda: Where will we go? Imogen: Home. Somewhere safe. Is there . . . is there a mean woman around here? Matilda: Yeah. She won’t let me leave. Imogen: Have you seen her lately? Matilda: She’s sort of out that way. (points towards the tree) Ashton: Matilda? Can you tell me about this drawing? It’s interesting. What were you thinking? Matilda: That’s what’s beyond the city. That’s what everything is now. Imogen: Have you tried to leave? Matilda: The tree won’t let me. Orym: You’re going to come with us, Matilda. We’re gonna go. Would you like that? Matilda: The tree won’t let me. (discussion about escaping the barn) Imogen: Matilda, do you have a secret way out of here? (She disappears)

For when we see it again here (which we will eventually) I rewrote it a bit to fit onto a single comic page (and also so it seems less like Bells Hells is attempting to abduct a toddler haha D: ) but the emphasis is the same. She’s alone and scared in a nightmare place and a benevolent presence tells her, “Come home.”

The title of the comic probably makes more sense now. :)

(Kinda mad because I had “Imogen is Laudna’s home” as an overarching theme long before FRIDA slid into Imogen’s DMs with “home can be a person” and now it’s going to be in everything, ever but oh well! It’s been here since the title page.)

#a long road home #author notes

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n7punk · 9 months

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"Children of the Crystal" Fic Notes: Season One

I’m breaking up the fic notes for Children of the Crystal into two “seasons” because there’s so much to cover. “Season one” ends with Halls That Make a Home, but I couldn’t post it until now because there were spoilers in these notes. I recommend not reading this until you've finished fic 10 (IDJtBS).

Season two will have all the rest of the fics as well as stuff like my usual discussion of the original outline. This post has the notes up through fic 7.

General Notes:

⦁ Before this idea came to me in… March? Maybe? I had never actually considered what would have happened if Light Hope’s plan… worked. Like, never occurred to me for a second, hey, what if Light Hope actually did bring Adora through and succeeded in raising She-ra? So I explored that. And of course, instantly, it was obvious Catra is going to be part of this too and then it became oh I… can give them a good childhood? They can be happy? Obviously, as explored in the fics, this childhood wasn’t sunshine and roses and still left them with issues, but it was better than growing up in the Horde, while also managing to preserve a lot of the character traits growing up in the Horde gave them due to a combination of Light Hope’s pressuring replacing Shadow Weaver’s manipulation (like, not great for the mental health, but she’s still way nicer and a better authority figure) and growing up a little feral to replace the whack conditioning of the Horde.

Beckoning to Break the Seal [one shot]

⦁ I had to make a lot of calls early on about what Light Hope would “risk” telling Adora about her origins and such. I’ve never fully decided if she intended to lie to Adora about her origins (in canon), though I’ve generally leaned towards her genuinely not knowing Adora wouldn’t remember (mostly because not knowing such a simple fact about the species she created to serve really illustrates how she was just a weapon to them as well). In this AU, though, Light Hope is very aware of this fact either way because it became apparent as she raised Adora. I decided Adora would know the truth, because 1) Light Hope probably wouldn’t think about it upsetting her, 2) Light Hope might not know she didn’t already know it and thus wouldn’t even consider lying about it, 3) Light Hope was raising her, so she could mold her into someone who would believe her origins were for the best (which is what ended up happening), and 4) Adora having always known what she is and her supposed place in the universe really worked for me. It isn’t just: you’re She-ra and you don’t get a choice. It’s: you’re She-ra, you’re a First One, the last one ever, who can never quite fit in with the rest of the world so you must prove yourself by filling the role of the only thing people want from a First One, She-Ra.

⦁ The rations they eat are the same kind of ones from Darla, with their apparently miraculous preservation technology. They’re not as good as regular food, but miles above Horde rations. However, since all they have experienced are these rations and regular food, their reaction is still “aw shitty rations” because they don’t have that perspective and just know these are worse than what they’ve had at festivals.

⦁ It’s called a “meal replicator” not in the Star Trek kind of way but because you put in ingredients and it “replicates” cooking a full meal with them. Like dumping in pasta, water, and sauce and a plate of spaghetti coming out. Only it’s very bare bones, there’s not a ton of seasonings included (notice: I did not list even salt), and it’s selection is very limited. It’s better than, say, MREs, but it’s not great. Think microwave dinners.

⦁ Honestly, I misremembered Glimmer tugging on the sword and not being able to move it without Adora pulling it free first and trying to run for it (she didn’t, Glimmer teleported in, grabbed it, and teleported out with it) but I’m going to stand by the defense mechanism and just say magic was the only thing that could have gotten around it.

⦁ I’m pretty sure retractable staffs… aren’t. It just seems like something that sounds logically possible but is actually very flimsy in practice. Regardless, the show has them, so the fic does too. They could have all kinds of alloys on Etheria, who knows.

Wild, Weird

Chapter 1:

⦁ The “Adora’s birthday is exactly two months before she arrived in their time” line was my first groundwork to FINALLY get my time portal headcanon into one of my fics. A lot of things are different due to the set-up for this AU, but I also got to finally showcase some of my headcanons that never make sense for an OotW fic.

⦁ When the little girls says their clothes “shimmer weird,” she’s referring to how the light catches on the synthetic fibers (think spandex) versus the natural ones she’s used to (think linen). Their clothes aren’t shimmer fabrics or something, they’re just a different composition. Also, white is called expensive here just because keeping something white is such a pain. Not to mention bleaching something out damages the fibers. It might be cheaper to produce than many dyes, but it can be more expensive to maintain.

⦁ Caprellia comes via Clare, via the SPOP marketing team, and means “she-goat.”

⦁ “… a weird training dummy draped in clothes” Adora sweetie… That’s a mannequin… My little child soldier baby. Even when I fix things I leave them broken.

⦁ I really enjoyed doing little things with young!Adora’s narration like “thinky-frowny face” but also I couldn’t stop myself from using words like elasticity so it only went so far.

⦁ The “machines” are things like a peddle-operated sewing machine (they’ve been around since the 1800s at the very least, I think earlier), looms for weaving, etc.

⦁ Basically all the adults in the village have a kind of silent agreement to keep an eye on the forest children when they do show up. When one of them learns something important, they often pass it on to those they know, who pass it on to the people they know, etc. By the end of week two it’s common knowledge that Catra and Adora’s minder is disabled, which clears a lot of things up for the villagers, because they were seriously worried they had made her up and were just running feral in the woods. The general information the villagers have is: Catra’s parents were killed by the Horde and Adora + her guardian took Catra in. Their guardian educates them and trains them how to “survive” in the woods (the villagers interpretation of what the girls have said about their training to be soldiers), but never leaves their home herself (now explained by her being disabled in some manner that makes that impossible/impractical). They know they don’t have money and they’re self-sufficient in the basics but lack a lot of luxuries, but also weirdly have some others, like clothes that are made from fancy materials, even if the clothes are fairly simple. There’s no consensus amongst the villagers on who their guardian is. Some people think it’s the weird old lady who is rumored to live in the woods (often only appearing to children, the lost, or the hungry), but that doesn’t make sense with her being disabled. The villagers worry about the young girls running around on their own, but they never go anywhere without a weapon and do seem to have been taught effective self-defense. They should be more worried about their social skills, honestly.

⦁ IRL, ALL fashion is produced by hand, even mass produced fashion. Machines that can produce finished garments just don’t exist and would be near impossible to create. This is the future with space travel, though, so anything could be possible, I’d just feel remiss to not acknowledge that when it leads to human rights issues and the sweatshop industry.

Chapter 2:

⦁ “…a kindness they’ve never done much to earn. They’ve never provided much for the village” Yeah this was a lead-in directly to the next fic where they save it.

⦁ Uh, mild Nimona spoilers I guess? but “rearranging the weapon racks by deadliness or some other unhelpful metric” is a Nimona (movie) reference.

⦁ Okay fashion being the only thing that is truly Catra’s makes the jacket a really big deal. I went into this thinking “maybe one time when they’re older Caprellia sees Adora looking a little wistfully at Catra’s new clothes and decides making her one (1) unnecessary thing would be fine” but that wasn’t the right call. That would have been Adora getting another special thing on her mountain of special things. The jacket is so much more meaningful as a gift from Catra, and that meaning is why Catra got inexplicably (to her) mad when Adora surprised her. Catra didn’t understand right away why she was angry, but as she processed she comes to that line about how this is the only thing she can invite Adora into. Not only is it the only thing she has, but she’s still trying to share it with Adora, who Catra only lives by the grace of. She has some bitterness about that, but she has more love for Adora, so she wants them to have this thing together, and then Adora shows up and stops her from doing it on her own terms.

The Start of a Legend [one shot]

⦁ “the Crystal Castle will be vulnerable without them” babygirl the spiders are to fight YOU if you catch on too quick and won’t set off the Heart.

⦁ The change the Crystal Castle goes through, especially the introduction of the threatening and invasive guardians crawling through their home, does a lot to start changing Catra and Adora’s feelings of comfort and familiarity with the Crystal Castle. It reminds them that what they have always treated as their home is actually a war facility, and is some of the first hint towards its true sinister nature as the control hub for the Heart of Etheria.

⦁ The mention of a giant building in the woods that turned out to be someone’s home is a reference to the (then-upcoming) fic with them stumbling across the library. At the time, it was fic 10 in the outline (following the current fic 12), but I was desperately wanting to write it.

⦁ The “something going on” Catra suspected from Light Hope saying Adora had to stay behind was actually that she had already heard Horde forces closing in on Elberon. When Adora started running to stop them, Light Hope told her she had to stop because there were people at the door who could discover the castle (Glimmer and Bow had bad timing). This led to a lot of arguing that took place while Catra was doing her spooky kitty routine before Adora refused to be delayed any further and ran up.

⦁ The descriptions of the Crystal Castle were running entirely on memory and what I needed for the story, but tbh I’ve never been certain if the ruin from the first episode is the same exact chamber of the Crystal Castle as we see later because there’s inconsistencies and if the show can change its mind I can make some shit up lmao.

⦁ In case it’s been awhile since you watched that part of the show: Light Hope shows Adora silhouettes of all the princesses, which is how Catra knew what Glimmer’s outline would look like. Because Light Hope’s focus was on balancing the planet and thus the princesses connected to the runestones, Bow was beneath her notice despite being more involved in the war than many of the other princesses at the time.

⦁ In the first (second, whatever) episode, Bow says that Glimmer’s mom knows more about the First Ones than anybody? I can’t remember if it’s just “the First Ones” or “First Ones tech,” but either way this is befuddling to me since it’s obviously Bow’s dads for the first or Entrapta for the latter? But, whatever, you get the line about Glimmer’s mom being interested in the First Ones.

⦁ “She has to remind herself that a lot of girls have moms” Catra… Baby…

⦁ In the show, Adora is the one who questions why they’re attacking a civilian settlement (“there must be a mistake”), but she was doing it from a place of disbelief that the Horde would do this. Bow is asking from confusion rather than surprise; Thaymor isn’t worth capturing, why waste the resources? And that’s why Catra answers how she does; Thaymor is simply the beginning, at least to the Horde.

⦁ “Catra releases Glimmer’s scruff” obviously Glimmer doesn’t have anything near a scruff and Catra was just holding onto her cape, but she was instinctively doing it where Glimmer’s scruff would be if she had one, and tbh it kind of looked like it too with her cape.

⦁ “She notices Adora’s gaze catching on her teeth. It’s not her fault no smile seems all that innocent to humans or the human-adjacent when there are fangs hiding in it.” Catra. Baby. She was being horny. She was on an adrenaline high from winning and having Thoughts.

⦁ Originally I included a line about it and then it was too clunky, but the mayor thanked Adora and Glimmer basically because they were the ones right in front of him. Everyone saw Catra, Glimmer, and Bow fighting, and so they just assumed when they later saw Adora that she was somewhere else in the chaos, because why would she ever be far from Catra? There was so much going on basically no one had thought much about the new princess who appeared yet, and those who had weren’t talking through it out loud. It was a big shock to most of them when Adora transformed, but it also made that whole sequence of events (and a lot of things over the years) make sense.

⦁ The scar on the boy’s arm is, of course, the same one mentioned in Wild, Weird.

⦁ Adora says she’s not “just a human” because she learned a long time ago to never say she’s a First One and has generally begun to think of herself as human because of that.

⦁ In the show, they take a horse from Thaymor, and then in the next episode Adora turns him into Swift Wind and only find out he’s sentient later. That… didn’t happen here. This was intentional, because Swift Wind’s (lack of) existence actually has very important ramifications. It seems like he doesn’t do a lot in the show, but there is one episode where he’s pivotal, and that’s the episode where Adora and him repair the broken Watchtower using their sacred bond (“Ties That Bind”). Without repairing the Watchtower, Mara’s emergency signal never goes out, and her ship in the Waste never wakes up. The First Ones messaging tower in the town of Alwyn never comes online either (“Signals”), so they never get the message from it that turned out to be a constellation map to Mara’s ship which they decipher in the library in “Reunion.” No one ever steps foot in the Crimsone Waste, Yeah, without Swift Wind they’re missing a MAJOR piece of the puzzle.

Maze (Literal, Metaphorical)

Chapter 1:

⦁ You know those “Purple” mattresses with the annoying ads that are made from rubber. Yeah the bed in the castle is made from something like that but with fancy ~future rubber~ so it didn’t break down into nothing over time. Listen, none of this shit should be here after 1000 years, I’m doing my best.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Adora calling the chaise lounge a chase long was because I don’t think it’s a word she would realistically know (at least well) at this point, so I leaned into her weird pronunciation stuff from the library episode (“Reunion”) for it.

⦁ The mention of Adora “forgetting about dictionaries” is because she hasn’t thought about them since George and Lance tried to teach them reading.

⦁ “eighteen-and-a-thousand years of planning” is referring to both Adora’s lifetime and the thousand years it took Light Hope to gather the resources to bring her here, showing just how much weight Adora has accepted on herself.

⦁ The mentions of them handholding a lot, especially around other people, is because of their dependence on each other.

⦁ The language around Adora stammering (“Catra hits Adora in the face with her tail to reset her.”) is influenced by them growing up with a slightly buggy Light Hope, so they’re a lot more used to tech stuff in this AU.

⦁ The board game goes horribly. Everybody is feeling awkward, except for Catra who has progressed to angry sulking, and somehow she dominates the game through a combination of spite, only knowing half the rules and not being “held back” by preconceptions, and wanting to get it over with.

⦁ Adora puts “tactile” in quotes because she was just discovering the word for the first time.

⦁ “[Glimmer and Bow] don’t even act that different from her and Catra” gee I wonder why THAT could be.

⦁ My general headcanon is that magicats have great memories (because different species would encode memories differently, and it feeds into my angst headcanons for Catra remembering every horrible thing Adora suppressed) but my headcanon has also always been that Catra’s memory basically starts the moment she meets Adora because she was very young when that happened, Adora was there to echo the memory back with her over the years and thus reinforce it, and everything before that was traumatic enough that her brain wanted to let it go.

⦁ When I was writing Adora’s POV for this chapter I was careful not to actually say what her feelings for Catra were even if it was obvious, because Adora herself is doing her best not to think about/process it. She knows, but in the way where she has seen it in the distance, half-registered what it is, and then quickly looked away so she could pretend she never saw it.

⦁ “Getting some one-on-one She-ra training reminded her what her priorities need to be.” AKA “Light Hope could tell she needed some more brainwashing done and used emotional manipulation to keep her on track.”

Be Honest (for the Very First Time) [one shot]

⦁ In regards to the first author’s note, I really don’t like “rewriting”(/transcribing) episodes from the show into canon divergent AUs. I used to be in a video game fandom where rewriting entire missions but with your take on the MC (since there were branching choices) was really common, and that shit gets old fast, versus when I was in the Mass Effect fandom and it seemed more common not to include the story missions and instead effectively pick up on the “next scene” after, which would be original dialog between the characters and happen to include mentions of which branches had been chosen on the previous mission (when relevant). That’s the style I went with for this fic because yes, there are a lot of changes in, say, the Plumerian episode, but those changes are primarily to dialog and then instead of trying to infiltrate the camp using Horde knowledge, they try to Be Sneaky and then go in guns blazing when that doesn’t work. It’s fundamentally not that different and writing within the constrains of the show is chafing. I still covered episode one (the meeting), the library episode, and the portal because they were so different and I had ideas I found fun for them, but I’ve watched the recruitment episodes so many times and didn’t feel like retreading them.

⦁ This fic is one of the first things I outlined for the series. I did a little outlining for The Start of a Legend, but this was the first proper outlining written done I think. Next was the final scene in On Stumbling Feet and then it jumped straight into the angst stuff.

⦁ The nature of this AU is that things go really well for a while, with victory almost seeming like it could be on the horizon, and then the Horde gets desperate, the portal happens, and the entire world falls to shit, which feels like being brought lower by the lack of major setbacks so far (with the greatest being losing Entrapta, a big blow but still just one, and they never thought she was dead before).

⦁ Adora is down so bad in this. She suspects her feelings are “wrong” from what Light Hope says and tries to avoid them, but she also convinces herself that she isn’t feeling anything because (then that would be bad) these are just friend thoughts, and having never experienced even a casual friendship with anyone else, she gets away with it until Bright Moon slaps her in the face with context.

⦁ I have outlined and written out in my head so many scenarios, in so many canon or canon divergent story ideas, where Adora and Catra have a big “fight” and Catra runs away into Bright Moon Castle in the middle of the night and Adora runs out after her, panicking about what she can do to fix this. It has finally ended up on paper and it feels so good to get it out of my system. This series lets me get a lot of things out between this, [major story thing later that’s spoilers], and finally being able to put my backstory headcanons for them into something.

⦁ “They have a mountain of issues to work through but they’re trying” sometimes trying is not enough (◡‿◡✿) LOL every time someone commented like “wow such progress!” I was just sitting there like. I can’t even reply to this comment you have NO idea what’s coming.

Girls Talk [one shot]

⦁ This fic got added in at the last minute, actually while I was writing Maze. As I was writing Maze, I realized I needed to feel out Catra’s relationships with Bow and Glimmer in this AU more so that spawned this fic, which I really enjoyed doing.

Halls That Make a Home

Chapter 2:

⦁ Catra mentions the woods seemingly not trusting them without “adult supervision” and then the woods immediately lead them to the adults perhaps Most concerned by them just wandering round. Catra isn’t quite right but she also isn’t quite wrong.

⦁ Okay, so I like, have a lot of headcanons about the Whispering Woods. Well mostly one headcanon that effects a lot, but basically they are semi-sentient. Most forests are connected via roots in vast networks underground, stretching miles or more sometimes, and the Whispering Woods is a magical amalgamation unbothered by its own movement. It’s magic working in concert with some level of awareness. The forest moves on a rotation that can change over time, like a river changing direction, just by the consciousness shifting its preferences or needs, but its also capable of moving outside of that pattern, as seen when Adora finds the sword or they need to reach Thaymor quickly. The woods show some level of favoritism and don’t move settlements as long as the people living there respect them. The woods have disrupted their pattern when necessary to avoid anyone from reaching the sword for generations, keeping She-ra safe until she could return and free them from the meddling of the First Ones. After the Heart went off the first time the First Ones began to register as a potential threat just like the Horde does, and the woods tries to mitigate threats.

⦁ Light Hope doesn’t really understand age and just didn’t “know” to baby them. She knew their faculties had to develop, but she never treated them like adults would for someone their age and it made going into the “real world” and no longer being treated like an adult really frustrating.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Incredibly catholic of Adora to take on the “sins” of her ancestors despite not having anything to do with them and only being harmed by them too, but the show had a lot of religious trauma themes so I did it too lol.

⦁ Until the full truth came out (like seconds later) George and Lance thought Bow might not have mentioned his dads because he didn’t want to be treated differently because his dads were academics, in case people might use that to diminish his own accomplishments because clearly it’s just ‘in his blood’ or he had access to more resources or something.

⦁ When rewatching the library episode I registered that Bow said Adora was an art major for the first time so I have to do artist Adora at some point now I guess XD

⦁ Okay, so the time portal thing. In the show, I initially thought back in seasons 2/3 that the reason portals didn’t work in Despondos was a feature of the dimension itself, rather than being because the runestones were out of alignment as implied by Light Hope in season 4. Because of that, I came up with the idea of dimensional portals not working, and thus time ones being the only viable method of travel to Etheria, which would mean both Adora and Hordak were time travelers. This would explain why Horde Prime thought he had wiped out all the First Ones, why Hordak’s technology was so much less advanced than Prime’s (although an easy answer to that is he isn’t as smart and doesn’t “remember” the knowledge base in the hive mind), and why it took Light Hope a thousand years to make her move: as explained in the fic, it took a long time to figure out how to reach back in time and then where to reach back, getting Hordak the first time and Adora the second. Now this… could be viable in canon? Basically, we don’t actually know when the Black Garnet went offline, so it could still be true that it needed to be a time portal and when Light Hope said she “reached across the wider universe” for Adora she meant back in time as well, I just don’t think that the runestone was offline that whole time. I’m also 99% sure Light Hope says at one point that it was Mara who threw them out of balance, implying something has been wrong for a thousand years and thus portal capabilities could have been offline that whole time, but she easily could have been lying. I always kind of assumed that the Garnet went offline when Scorpia’s mom died without Scorpia bonding with the runestone. We don’t know either way on that, but that’s why this time portal idea is showing up for the first time in a canon divergent AU where I can really tweak whatever I want. It’s also plausible that, regardless of her portal capabilities, it still had to be a time portal because all the First Ones really were gone, but it’s all a big “we don’t know” and in that case I get to do what I want.

Meta:

Catra’s clothes (Wild, Weird)

Season Two fic notes

Series Directory/Share Links

#cotc #ficmeta #fic notes #share post for IDJtBS soon but the last chapter is up now!

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ronoken · 5 months

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Dr. Technus and the Children's Hospital

Three hours after your fight with Superior Force, you see a news blurb about your battle. It’d been a tough one. The marvel of might had kicked the ever-loving crap out of your new, and now completely trashed, super suit. You’d held your own, but then he took a particularly hard swing at your dome-covered head and put you clean through a building. The outer wall had buckled, and the resulting partial collapse had given you just enough time to crash through the other side and get the hell out of there.

Fortunately, the building had been occupied, so Superior Force opted to stick around and help rescue civilians instead of finding you and ripping you apart like you were made of tinfoil. Again. This was your fifth attempt at a super suit that could withstand his blows, and he still beat you like you were an ant fighting God, which honestly wasn’t that far off when you considered how freakishly strong the hero in question was. You realize (as you’re wont to do at moments like these) that you’re lucky to be alive.

Now that you’re back in your hidden and extremely evil lair, you get a little curious about the aftermath of the fight. What building had he put you through? You were kind of seeing stars when you hit that wall. There was some screaming. That’s… about all you remember. It’s been a rough day.

Fucking heroes.

You see a newscaster interviewing Superior Force in front of a pile of rubble. Behind him, firefighters are spraying it down. You realize you must have hit a gas line. That would explain the explosion that rocked you, the building that fell on you, and so on.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t stop her before she had a chance to hurt more innocent people,” Superior Force’s voice has a warble to it. It sounds like a mixture of sadness and rage. It’s extremely effective at making you feel nervous. “Picking a fight in the middle of the street is one thing, but Dr. Technus made a mistake when she decided to attack a children’s hospital.”

You freeze. You feel your blood pounding in your skull. Attacked? A children’s hospital?! You blew up a Dennys! It wasn’t even a particularly good Dennys! What is that idiot blathering about? You…

You went through a building. There was an explosion. There were screams.

Some of those screams were awfully childlike.

You scream. You throw your cracked dome helmet at a monitor where Superior Force is fishing a bloody child out of the rubble. You listen to the newscaster call you a terrorist and a monster. You stare at the cracked screen and the face of the man who put you through that building.

You remember. Your mind goes back to an image. A little girl with green eyes. Her still body in a hospital bed. Her mother sobbing beside her.

You grab your portal gun.

***

Getting in was easy. You’ve had a portal gun for years. You don’t often use it because admittedly, it takes a lot of the fun out of breaking into places. When you want to slip in and out, though? Portal gun. Most of your criminal empire was funded this way. You’d portal into a bank vault, clean it out, and portal home. No cops, no alarms, no interruptions.

But this isn’t a vault.

You adjust your lab coat around your waist and straighten your tie. Of course you have a tie. You may be a villain, but you’re not a bum. You can dress professionally when the mood suits you.

You step out of a storage closet and slip into the busy crowd of doctors and nurses weaving through the halls. The east wing took the blast, but the rest of the hospital was apparently unharmed. Superior Idiot managed to clear the rubble in the space of an hour, and most of the patients and staff that lived were now relocated to new rooms. Still, a lot of people were hurt. A lot of staff were taken out. They’re short-handed, and there’s a lot of wounded.

You pick a room. It doesn’t matter which one; they’re all full. You quietly open the door and step inside to see three curtains for three small beds. The staff had to pile the kids up to find a place for them. The beeping from the machines is annoyingly loud.

You slide the first curtain back. A little girl, no more than eight, is lying in bed. She’s wearing pajamas with a blue dog on them. Her skin, a pretty dark brown, is crisscrossed with bloody bandages. Her eyes are closed.

You read her chart. She was here for Lymphoma, but now she’s… You glance at the bed sheets and notice they’re flat where her legs should be. You grip the chart in your hand so hard the clipboard cracks.

You read the others. A little boy with muscular dystrophy, now down an eye. A little girl with a heart murmur and a missing arm.

You take notes. You leave and go to the next room. You go to all the rooms.

When you portal back to your evil lair, you resist the urge to throw a tantrum. Tantrums are fun, but they’re not productive. You need to be productive right now. You consider creating a gun to kill Superior Force. Not maim. Not torture. You want to blast a fucking hole through his head and call it a day. You’ve never gone that far before for fear of the other heroes coming down on you, but right now? It’s really tempting.

Instead you roll up your sleeves and get to work. Now, you’re evil. Ergo, you tend to design evil things. Little bio-plague work here, some exo suits there, a killer android or two, you know. The usual. It’s what you do. It’s what you’ve always done. It just comes easy to you.

You start with what you know. You pull up your schematics for your cyborg soldiers. That was a total bust of an evil scheme. The morons worked just fine, but they got too cocky and tried to go solo. Ended up getting flattened by the Collective Good. Still, you’d come up with some doozies while working with them. Carbon fiber bones. Nerve attachments for limbs. Cybernetics. The works.

You get to work. It’s easy work. You’ve done this before. You’ve done all of this before, but never this small. You force yourself not to think about how tiny the fingers on the cybernetic hand are. How small the eye you’re crafting has to be. You look over your notes and pay careful attention to the feedback you received when installing these parts the first time. What hurt. What didn’t. You have to stop when you find your vision blurring as you design a skull plate for an infant.

This isn’t what you do. You’re Dr. Technus. You’re a villain. You’re evil.

You resume crafting the skull plate.

You’re evil. This is true. But you tell yourself that you’re not a fucking monster. You’re not… you’re not that…

You finish the plate. It’s the last piece you need.

You look at your notes and frown. You know how bad some of their conditions are. You scanned them as you read their charts. You bring up their medical records, one by one. You review how severe each one is. You review the causes.

This can’t be serious, you tell yourself. You’ve made diseases a hundred times worse than this on the regular in your lab. You’ve worked with these cancers and viruses and bacteria a dozen times over, at the very least! You once infected congress with six of these diseases on a whim! You…

You’ve worked with all of these diseases before.

The thought rolls through your mind like a freight train. You stare at the readouts. The charts. The children. You remember their faces as they slept. You come to a decision.

Nanites are expensive to produce. They take time, they’re a bit finicky, and God do you hate programming them, but you’ve got the data you need already on file. You’ve got the nanite stock saved up for your attack on the financial district this Friday.

You fire up your laptop. The financial district can wait a week. You’ve got priorities.

***

You portal into the first room you visited the night before. The children are still there, but this time, they’re awake. You just popped into existence between them and the television on the wall behind you.

Two sets of eyes stare at you. The third child, the one missing an eye, is still asleep.

You stare back. You realize you have less than three seconds before someone screams.

“Well now!” You say in your best authority voice. Thank God you wore your medical coat. Thank God you dressed the part. “Sorry if I surprised you. We’re trying some new technology here. I guess it works.”

You grin and wink. The little girl with no legs giggles. The girl with one arm grins. That was stupidly easy.

You snap your fingers, and a blue portal opens behind you. Three drone droids float out, each carrying a small, metal suitcase. They set them down in a neat row as you click a button on your wrist. The cases let out a small hiss as they open. The medical drones float back a bit and patiently hover in place.

You lock eyes with the first girl. She’s nervous, but curious about what you’re up to. “I heard about your, um, your leg situation,” you say. Leg situation? You really are not good at this.

The little girl looks down at where her legs used to be. She rubs her thigh. “The doctors said they were crushed.” You notice the bandages need changing. God, this place must be short staffed, what with everyone dying the other day. Sue looks at you with tears on her cheeks. “Why couldn’t they fix them?”

You bite your lip before remembering that she’s a child and you’re here for a specific reason, and that reason isn’t to be an asshole. “Well,” you start, your mind racing. “So, um, yes. About that. Let’s say they were getting you ready.”

She cocks her head at that. “For what?”

You pick up the new, silver legs you crafted and hold them up for her to see.

“For these.”

Her eyes grow as wide as dinner plates. She covers her mouth with her hands.

You glance at the other little girl and nod. “Give me five minutes. You’re next.”

***

The first little girl (Cassie. She excitedly introduced herself as you attached her right leg) is now walking in circles to get used to her new legs. The second is busy flexing her fingers as you finish installing a cybernetic eye into the still sleeping boy.

“My fingers feel weird,” the second little girl (Amy) says. “Are they supposed to tingle?

You shrug. You don’t look up from your work as you reply. “I just reconnected all five nerve branches in your arm to alien technology. It’s going to take a bit to calibrate to you. Just give it time.”

Amy’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. “This is an alien arm?”

“Well, only kind of. I stole the tech from an alien race, but I’ve modified it quite a bit. I’d say it’s about 30% alien? Give or take?”

Amy flexes her hand again and grins. “This is so awesome. I can feel things! It’s like a while new arm!”

“That’s because it’s a whole new arm,” you answer. The eye appears to be in, but the boy is still asleep. You nod. Of course he is. He took a hit to the head. He’s in a coma.

Cassie jumps in place and laughs. “They feel just like my old legs, but stronger! I feel like I could jump to the moon!”

“I don’t know about the moon, but you’ll find those legs could outrun, um, you could do well in track.” You take out three syringes from your cases. “Now,” you say as the girl’s smiles fade. “Who feels like getting really better?”

You portal from room to room. Most of the time, the kids are asleep. Sometimes, you find them awake. By the fifth room, you can hear commotion in the halls. The doctors know someone just performed a miracle. You work fast. You’d prefer not to be noticed.

You have an image to maintain.

It takes two hours, but you manage to visit every single child. Even the ones that weren’t caught in the explosion were paid a visit. You were only spotted once, and that was towards the end. You were in the NICU, installing the skull plate. You’d just finished when you glanced up to see a nurse standing in the doorway watching you. You thought she was going to scream, or run for help, or, well, something, but then you remembered you weren’t in costume. Well, you were, but not your normal one?

“What are you doing?” She asked. She took a hesitant step forward when she realized the baby’s head wasn’t bandaged anymore, but covered her mouth in shock when she heard the infant let out a cry. Per the chart, the child had been in critical condition. Now, the poor thing just wanted a bottle.

The nurse cautiously picked up the baby, her fingers dancing over where the metal plate shined. She looked up at you as you opened a portal to slip away. You expected her to say something, but she just stared at you, then at the baby, and to your amazement, she turned her back on you to find a bottle in the little table next to the child’s incubator.

You know a cue when you see one, so you stepped back into your portal and blipped out of there.

***

It’s been six weeks since your little crisis of faith. You shook off the momentary bout of insanity and focused on getting right back to what you did best. Three banks, two credit unions, and a diamond exchange for good measure. Your little stunt at the hospital had been thorough, and thoroughly expensive. You needed to replenish.

You also had to set the record straight. Vulcan wouldn’t stop running his stupid mouth at the last Legion meeting. You let it slide the first few times, but the second he started loudly telling everyone about how you’d gone soft, you decided enough was enough and put a phaser blast through the back of his skull. You had to admit, the most satisfying part of all of that was watching what amounted to a rock covered pro wrestler collapse to the floor like, pardon the expression, a bag of bricks.

No one else gave you any crap that night. It was a most productive meeting.

And now here you are, doing what you do best. Armored cars are a little flashy, but you’re feeling the need to express yourself today, and you wanted to test out a new melting beam you’d been working on, so hey, why not? You grab a sack of cash and notice that the sunlight coming through the hole in the side of the truck is now blocked.

You turn. Floating outside the car is Infinity Lass. She’s got her arms crossed, and the look on her face is, well, you’re not sure.

You force yourself not to ogle her. The white leotard doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, and you dig the boots. Still, you view her as a work problem. A hot work problem, but a work problem.

“Technus,” her voice is firm. How do heroes do that? The clear, projecting commands? Did they all do theater? You idily wonder if they have voice coaches.

“Dr. Technus, if you don’t mind?” You say with as much bravado as you can muster. This was stupid. You came here to test a melting gun, not deal with one of the strongest women on the planet. And no, you can’t melt Infinity Lass. One, it wouldn’t work. Two, it’d piss her off. Three… you wouldn’t get past two. You’d be a stain.

You ready your portal so you can slide the hell out of there when she clears her throat. “Dr. Technus,” she says. You pause. Since when do the heroes do manners with you? This is new. Kinda weird. “Would you mind putting down that sack of money and stepping outside?”

The absolute hell? What is this? Why isn’t she using laser eyes or something? Why the manners? This is legitimately creeping you out. You’re so put off that you actually do as she says. It’s only 10% because she’s hot. That’s what you tell yourself.

You stare her down. This could go any number of ways. Some heroes are easy-peasy, some are a hard time, and some can absolutely wreck your shit. Infinity Lass is solidly in the third camp. Even with a full battle suit, you’d be hard pressed to hold your own. And you’re not in your battle suit, you’re in your stupid skintight heist suit. This is not hero-fighting attire. This is get in-and-out attire. You’re… Dammit. You are not dressed for today. You’ve only got a phase plaster, your cool but useless against this problem melting gun, your portal trick, some sonic bees, a plasma grenade… Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You can improvise, but this is already listing itself as a Bad Time in your head.

You tense. You should start with the melting gun. While she’s busy breaking it, you can use the bees. She hates the bees. That’ll buy you ten seconds. Then…

She reaches into her belt and slips out a small envelope. Stunned, you watch as she slowly floats down to your level to hand it to you.

“I was there,” she says in a strained voice as you stare at the envelope. There’s no name on the outside. “I saw what happened that night. The press was wrong. Tom shouldn’t have…” Her eyes go wide as she catches herself. You shrug her off. You know most of their identities, and the moron only covers his with glasses. Seriously, who does that?

“What is this?” You ask. You open the envelope to find a folded crayon picture of a little girl with an oversized silver arm. Next to her is a doodle person in a lab coat. They’re both smiling. The text under it is a bit wobbly, but you can still read it.

“Thank you for the arm?” You realize you read it out loud. You look up at Infinity Lass, who looks like she’s holding back a lot of emotions.

“My daughter. Amy was, her heart, it…” She wipes her eyes and clears her throat. She’s doing her best not to lose her crap in front of you, and you honestly can’t blame her. You’d be about the same in her shoes. “She collapsed on the playground. The doctors said it was grade five, that she needed surgery, and then her, her arm was…”

And now she does lose it, and you try to be polite and look away. This is not what you came here for, but this is also kind of fascinating. You knew Infinity Lass had a daughter, but you never looked to much into it. Something about a messy divorce, a bad court case, the shitty usual. You knew the broad strokes.

Infinity Lass sniffed as she did her best to compose herself. “Amy says the arm stopped tingling, but it’s acting a little funny. Something about a twitch in her ring finger? Still, it’s, it’s a lot better than no arm. She, um, she asked if I ever saw you to, um, to give you that. And to thank you.”

You hold the paper like it’s made of porcelain. It’s… Oh God. It’s a thank you letter. It’s a thank you letter from a child you helped. This has never happened before. You’re genuinely not sure what you’re supposed to do, but a part of you is screaming that this little piece of paper is worth more than the money behind you.

You both turn when you hear sirens approaching. She glances at the gun on your hip.

“Do me a favor?” She asks. She points at the gun. “Is that a melting gun?”

You nod dumbly. “Um, yes. Yes, it is. Works fine on metal, but I doubt it’d do more than piss you off, so, um, not to worry.”

“Would you shut up and shoot me with it already?” Infinity Lass is staring down the road at the cops that are quickly approaching.

“What?” You ask. Today is all sorts of messed up.

“Do you want to escape or not?” Infinity Lass snaps. “Just fucking shoot me and get out of here.” She bites her lip and glances back at the cops, who are only a block away. “Before I change my mind.”

You gently slide the note into your belt. You unhook your melting gun and take aim at her stomach. She flies back unusually far when you hit her, whish is strange, since you’ve done this before and she barely flinched. She makes a point of collapsing on the pavement.

You take your cue. With a flash of blue light, you slip away as the cops pull up.

***

The next day, you’re taking some me-time. You’re sitting in a café that you go out of your way to preserve during your fights, as it serves the best danish in town. The coffee is pretty decent and the barista is doing her best to get through her undergrad, and you sympathize with her. She wants to go into premed. You repeatedly warn her off it, but she’s stubborn. She’s feisty. She reminds you of you.

You’re halfway through your coffee and stuck on a sudoku as a woman in a nice red sweater and gray dress pants slides into the booth across from you. She’s wearing glasses, but you know those eyes. That stare. Seriously. Glasses are the stupidest disguise ever.

You lower your own glasses and stare back. Yours aren’t… you’re near-sighted, okay? So, yes, you could fix it in a jiffy, but you’ve got a thing about eyes and, it’s not a costume. It’s not a costume.

“When I picked up Amy from school today,” the woman begins. “She told me the nice doctor lady came by during lunchtime and adjusted her arm. She says the twitch is gone, but when she threw a dodge ball, she broke a little boy’s nose.”

You snort. You can’t help it. It’s not a villainous snort, but your incognito right now, so it’s okay. “Tell her to be more careful,” you say through a smirk.

The woman stares at you for a moment before visibly relaxing. She sips her coffee, which is mostly cream and sugar. “Why did you save my daughter?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Beg pardon?”

“You heard me,” she bites back. “Why? It wasn’t for publicity. I’ve checked around. You’ve been quiet about everything that went down. And that armored car thing yesterday? You weren’t expecting company, were you?”

You don’t acknowledge anything she says. You just sip your coffee and count the exits.

“So, why?” She asks again. “You’ve never done anything like that before. You don’t help people. You’ve never helped people. So why now? Why her?”

You hear the underlying question. “Why my daughter?”

You sip your coffee as slowly as you can. You weren’t ready for this. You take a moment to compose your thoughts. You think about the different ways you can answer her.

You take out your phone and scroll through your photos. You slide it across the table to show the woman a photo of a little green-eyed girl.

“My niece, Oliva.” you say in what you hope is a casual tone. “She was six when her mother’s car was knocked off a bridge by Sunbeam.”

The woman tenses. You figured she would. Most folks on both sides of the line knew about Sunbeam.

“He managed to fish the car out, and my sis lived, but Olive… She’d been under too long. Died at the hospital right in front of her mama.”

The woman across from you sets the phone down on the table. She looks at you over the rim of her glasses. “You killed Sunbeam, didn’t you?”

You nod. “Yep. Transmogrified the air in his lungs into water and watched him drown in the middle of the street.” You take a sip. “It was the most satisfying day of my life.”

“Is that why you do this?” She asks. “The crime? The killing? Is it for revenge?”

You shrug. “I do it because I’m good at it. I do it because it makes me rich.” You take back your phone. “And because sometimes when I’m staring down a hero, I hear my sister’s cries. I remember how she drank herself to death. I remember my niece. And then, yeah. Sometimes, it’s for revenge.”

The woman stares at her coffee for a solid thirty seconds. You feel your anxiety rising. Talking about dead loved ones and being cornered in your safe space was not how the afternoon was supposed to go.

“So, you didn’t help Amy because she was my daughter?”

You shake your head. “Carol, I didn’t even know she was in there. I just… I didn’t want… I didn’t want to be another Sunbeam. I didn’t want another…” You’re not sure how to finish that sentence. You’ve been trying hard to forget how you acted that night.

Carol looks slightly alarmed that you used her name, but you shrug it off. Like you don’t know most of the Collective Good’s identities? Please. You’re a super genius and you got through medical school.

Carol fidgets with her coffee for a few moments before clearing her throat. “So, um, I don’t, um, I don’t know if you’d… This is harder than I thought it would be. I…”

“Spit it out, Carol. Don’t make me get my melting gun.” You smile as you say it. You’re not serious. You don’t have your melting gun.

You have your phase disruptor, and the safety is off and ready to go, but you don’t think you’ll need it.

Carol finally relaxes and flashes you a smile. “Please. That thing couldn’t even give me a tan.”

“Could have fooled me,” you say as you consider taking a bite of your danish. Should you eat in front of her? Would that be rude? You really want that danish.

“No, I couldn’t. But I fooled those cops, didn’t I?”

You grin. You were right; she was giving you an out. “Why are you really here?”

Carol slides a piece of paper across the table. It has an address scribbled on it. “There’s a kid in Amy’s class that was paralyzed last Fall in a car crash. His name’s Dawson. Drunk driver broadsided him and his mom. She was fine, but he lost the use of his legs.”

You glance at Carol. “And?”

Carol frowns. “I just, I thought that, um…”

“I’m not a charity,” you say in a low voice. You stand. “Look, don’t get the wrong idea. What happened at the hospital was a one-time thing. Those kids shouldn’t suffer just because one of your people can’t control his temper.”

“What about all the kids you cured?” Carol asks. “The doctors said all the patients had a clean bill of health. No cancer, no tumors, nothing. Amy’s heart is completely fixed up. What did Superior Force have to do with that?”

You don’t answer. You hate it when people point things out to you that you have trouble arguing. Hell, why did you do that? What’s gotten into you?

You walk away from Carol, your coffee, and your danish. This conversation is over. You’re pretty sure she’s not going to follow you, but you still keep an eye out. You’re right. You see her through the window as you power-walk away. She’s still at the booth.

You look down at your hands. You realize the address is still crumpled in your hands.

“Goddammit,” you mutter.

***

The next day, you’re scrolling through your newsfeed and see a feel-good story about a local boy named Dawson who miraculously regained the use of his legs after eating his school lunch. You scroll past. Taking the place of the cafeteria worker had been worse than your six-month stint in county when you were 19. You’d prefer not to think about it.

***

Three days later, your favorite barista hands you back your cash and gives you a slightly larger than normal drink.

“Already covered,” she says. “Also, can I ask you about my bio-chem midterm?”

“Thanks, and hell no. I blocked that course out of my mind. You’re on your own,” you say with a shudder.

The barista hands you an envelope.

“What this?” you ask.

“A pretty blonde lady dropped it off this morning. Said if I saw you to give this to you.”

Your mind races. You already know who she’s talking about, but the panic side of your mind is in overdrive. She knows this is your place. She can find you here. They can all find you here. It was stupid to come back. Fuck the danishes. This was a bad idea.

Still…

You nod your thanks and go to your booth. You open the envelope and take out a photo of Amy, her bionic arm loosely wrapped around the neck of a little boy you remember serving a special helping of spaghetti to a few days ago. They’re both standing in front of the school and grinning.

You smile. You don’t mean to and you’ll kill anyone who notices, but you smile.

You idly flip the photo over and freeze. On the back is a message.

Well, a number and a message. A short message. Two words.

Call me

You swallow you coffee in three gulps.

You might still be smiling.

Fucking heroes.

#Dr. Technus #Original fiction #ronoken

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quietwings-fics · 6 months

Text

Reboot

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Ship: Gen (Freddy & Gregory, Michael & Crying Child) Additional Tags: Michael Afton Possessing Glamrock Freddy, but like. he doesn't really know that? being a ghost is hard yall, Recovered Memories, Michael Afton-Centric, Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach: Savior Ending, Character Study, POV Second Person Wordcount: 2221 Summary:

Are you sure it is necessary to boot in [Safe Mode]? Y/N

Booting...

[Safe Mode]

Warning! [Safe Mode] is for diagnostic purposes only! Most functions are restricted in [Safe Mode]. Repeated restarting in [Safe Mode] may lead to software damage and vulnerabilities.

Are you sure it is necessary to boot in [Safe Mode]? Y/N

Are you sure you are st ill ne ces sa r y, M i c h

You are the highest achievement in animatronic technology that Fazbear Entertainment has ever created. You are the star of the show and a good role model for children of all ages. You are a head in the back of a stolen van.

It’s lonely in here. You have gotten used to your companions also spending the night in the van. Them, sleeping, and you in sleep mode, which is not sleeping, which is a noise away from rebooting you, but there was something about the routine that was nice. Gregory would say good night, and you would say good night, and Vanessa would not say good night, usually, but promise something along the lines of I’ll see you in the morning. You would not shut down, but the cessation of movement and the dimming of your external lights allowed them to sleep better. Barring malfunction, you do not ever shut down completely.You have only ever shut down once, before you met Gregory, and you came back.

You’re not sure why you phrased it like that. You will always come back.

You do not shut down. The van’s battery recharges as it drives and overnight, in sleep mode, you don’t take enough of its power to lead to it dying.

You are not in sleep mode. You must have heard something. You listen.

You’re not sure what you hope to hear. Your internal clock says that it is 2:33 AM, far past Gregory’s bedtime. Vanessa wakes at odd times, but she doesn’t seem to like talking when she does, or at least, not to you. She talks to herself, mostly, and you know she’s scared. You would offer her a Fazbear Official Freddy Balloon Animal to cheer her up, like you are programmed to do for sad children, but you don’t have any balloons. Or arms. Even if she is awake now, there’s no way for you to know. She would have to leave the motel room they have for the night and come down here to you.

At least they’re sleeping on beds. Children and adults aren’t meant to sleep on van floors.

But you are lonely. You miss your friends. What is left of them that is still your friends and not Someone Else. And what is left of them that Gregory did not-

Oh, Gregory.

You have limited memory space, but limited for the peak of animatronic computing is still enough terabytes to store what’s important. You did not store most of the recordings made in your own drives. Video footage captured by security cameras was collected automatically by Fazbear Entertainment, as per the waiver signed at the door by all guests. The footage you call up now was never sent anywhere but to you. After all, with no guest profile, you have no way of verifying that Gregory signed the waiver, and as a responsible mascot, you made sure no one would ever see him. Otherwise, that could lead to lawsuits.

(You know Gregory is too young to sue anyone. You know he has no apparent legal guardian to do so on his behalf. You made sure the footage never reached Fazbear Entertainment anyway.)

Playing Gregory20410613437.mp4...

[From the vantage of a security camera, you see a kitchen. It is spacious and occupied by staffbots diligently whirring around, cleaning and keeping watch. They are unbothered by the other animatronic in the room. Chica is eating, though you and Monty both have told her this is not good for her servos.

She does not see Gregory until it is too late, and neither did you, the first time. You can track his every movement now; You have reviewed this footage so often. He creeps towards Chica, hesitates when she pauses, and then charges forward to shove her-your bandmate-Fazbear property-your friend into the trash compactor. She’s crushed, and when Gregory tries to escape, she pulls him down into the trash shute with her. You think you remember trying to speak through his Fazwatch, but you don’t think he could hear you.]

Gregory brought back your friend’s voice box and installed it in you. Gregory destroyed Fazbear property. Gregory is a child, and he was trying to survive.

You gave him a chance to come clean. You asked him where he got the voice box. You tried to be gentle. You remember when you were kids that Evan was always a terrible liar. Gregory didn’t look at you when he told you how he got the voice box. He never said anything about the state your friends ended up in. He still hasn’t. You still haven’t told him you know. You think Gregory has taught you how to lie.

Wait.

You gave him a chance to come clean. You asked him where he got the voice box. You tried to be gentle. Gregory didn’t look at you when he told you how he got the voice box. He never said anything about the state your friends ended up in. He still hasn’t. You still haven’t told him you know. You think Gregory has taught you how to lie.

No. Nothing wrong. That’s how things happened.

Gregory is not a bad child. He is, maybe, as Vanessa says, ‘a little brat’, but his heart is in the right place. He stayed back when others would have run. He saved her, and he survived, and sometimes that exacts a price. And he saved you.

You don’t like that part. Not because of what he did. Because of what you failed to do. Gregory is brave, but he is still a child. You shouldn’t have put him in danger. What if he had been hurt? What if he had been killed? It would have been your fault, all over again.

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t. He’s alive.

You call up more footage.

Playing Gregory20410613.mp4

[From you own eyes, you see your stomach hatch unlock and open. A boy tumbles out, familiar brown hair and brown eyes that stare up at you defiantly. You catch him gently by the shoulders. “There you are,” you say, and you run your facial recognition software. He looks scared, but why would he be? Children love you! There’s no reason for him to be scared.

You know this boy. You remember him. His guest profile is unknown. You have no idea who he is.

“I- I’m Gregory,” he stutters.

“Gregory.” You say, slowly, because it is wrong. That’s not his name. You know that’s not his name. You’ve forgotten so many things, but you will not forget your own brother’s n-

You are malfunctioning. You cannot connect to the main network. Your programming requires you to report him to the nearest security guard. The one who Gregory is scared of, the one Gregory begs you not to alert. Your programming requires you to report him. Why does it require that?

Something moves.

Your programming requires you keep him safe.

In the wires, down to the core, something shifts.

Your programming requires.

A 1 becomes a 0.

Your programming requires you. You are here to protect Gregory.

You do not report him to the security guard.]

You watch these videos. You rewatch them. You try to hold onto something you do not understand anymore. You try to hold onto something you are not anymore.

What are you?

You are the highest achievement in animatronic technology that Fazbear entertainment has ever created.

Correct.

You are the star of the show and a good role model for children of all ages.

Correct.

You are a head in the back of a stolen van.

Correct.

You are Freddy Fazbear.

You are.

You are Freddy Fazbear. This is what you were created to be. Programming cannot be changed. You cannot change. You did not exist before they turned you on. They gave you character. They gave you a purpose. They did not give you history. You are Freddy Fazbear. That is what you are.

Answer this question, and answer it quick before you forget again: who are you?

Playing Gregory19830407614.mp4

[You roll your eyes. Your little brother is such a crybaby. That’s what makes the game fun, sure, but he just keeps crying and crying, even after you pull off the mask and reveal that it’s still just you under there. Now you’re standing here, awkwardly holding the fox mask between your hands, not sure what to do. He’s still shaking, still sobbing. You want to leave the room.

It’s his fault for getting so worked up. If what you did was so bad, Dad would stop you.

Dad’s not home a lot. He doesn’t talk to you. You don’t think he talks to your brother much either, except to get angry at him for going back to the diner. You don’t know why Gregory keeps going-

Gregory? Who’s Gregory?

You don’t know why Evan keeps going back there if he’s so scared of those robots. Maybe it’s habit. You both used to go there after school every day while your sister took her ballet lessons, listening to the animatronics sing corny songs and never having the heart to tell Uncle Henry that they were always kind of creepy looking when he asked you if you were enjoying yourselves. Evan loved it back then. Dad used to smile more, too. Maybe there’s something wrong with the restaurant. Maybe it’s not making enough money anymore.

You sit down on the floor in front of your brother. He looks up at you with teary brown eyes, and you feel... bad. Really bad.

“It was just a joke,” you say. “Don’t be so stupid. They’re just robots. They can’t hurt you.”

Evan sniffs. You should lean over and ruffle his hair. Give him a hug. Tell him he’ll be okay. That’s what a good brother would do.

“We’ve still got to go to that party tomorrow, so don’t be such a wuss.”

You weren’t a very good brother.]

You are not you.

Playing Gregory19830407614.mp4

ERROR: No file named [Gregory19830407614.mp4] exists.

Playing Gregory19830407614.mp4

ERROR: No file named [Gregory19830407614.mp4] exists.

You know it doesn’t exist. You try to call it up five more times. This is the kind of joke cruel gods play when the puppets stop dancing for them. In short, it is exactly the kind of joke your father would have laughed at, if there is enough of him left to laugh, if that part of him didn’t rot away long before the springlocks dug into his flesh and caged him forever. Trapped you all down in the wires and screeching metal.

And it’s your fault, Michael. He never would have done it if Evan had lived.

So now you come back. You always come back. Until there is nothing left in you that will remember your little brother, and until all of your father that remains is his fear of death, the last thing he can’t control, until the empire of shitty pizza and robotic performances he helped build stays burned, you will follow him and you will stop him. That is what atonement is.

Playing Gregory20410629.mp4

[There is nothing special about this moment. You watch this one the most. The van glides smoothly over the open road, recharging your battery much faster than you could ever deplete it. Gregory squirms and fidgets and tries to find a new way to sit every minute to pass the time. Vanessa drives, focus intent on going, not on any destination in particular. You are taking the time to clean out storage space to make room for videos, memories, like this.

And then Vanessa swerves suddenly, voice sharp when she yells, “Watch where you’re driving, you piece of-” She cuts herself off, glances at Gregory.

“You piece of shit!” Gregory finishes for her with the absolute glee only a child finding an excuse to say a curse word can muster.

“Language!” You say. “That wasn’t very polite, Gregory.” He grins, and he’s got your brother’s eyes, your brother’s hair, but his smile looks nothing like Evan’s, all feral mischief. Vanessa rolls her eyes. You know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you would do anything for them.

If that part is programming, it’s a code you wrote yourself.]

You are Freddy Fazbear. You are the star of the show.

You are what is left of Michael Afton. You are the kinder half of your father’s curse.

And of course, you are also a head in the back of a stolen van. A van with a limited battery. You don't want to run it dry before morning.

You initiate Sleep Mode. You know you won't remember this when you wake again. (You wonder how many times you've thought this, how many nights you remember and forget.) You will be Freddy's program and Michael's ghost, but you won't know. That's okay. You know why you are here. That will be enough. It has to be enough.

Entering Sleep Mode...

...

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#fanfiction #general audiences #1001-5000 #genfic #evan & michael #freddy & gregory #glamrock freddy #michael afton #michael!freddy

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