#and CERTAINLY not as easy and lucky as Fry

[strangerthingssteddiebrainrot]

4am this time, let's go bbyyyyy!!!!!

Steve knew he wasn't in the best place right now. Mentally that is. But he wasn't at his all time lowest. That award probably goes to the summer Starcourt burned down, even if he got Robin out of it, funnily enough.

Ever since the wall opened and spat out a monster in the Byers living room, Steve felt like his ability to deal with shit was going steadily downhill. Especially since, in those early days, he didn't really have anyone to rely on. Nancy's parents (ie. Karen wheeler) actually gave a fuck about her children, so it's not like she could sneak over to his place and they could hold each other through the nightmares. After the tunnels, he got a little brother in the form of one sarcastic little brat named Dustin. But it's not like he was gonna burden literal children with his fears and paranoia, not when they were barely dealing with their own issues. Then he lost Nancy.

Finding Robin had been a godsend, really. Her parents didn't really like her sneaking out to spend the night with a boy, but given that they survived a traumatic event together, they were much more lenient. Her grandfather on her dad's side had been a vet, one of the lucky few who had a strong support system and passed on the importance of such things to his children. Steve had even spent some nights over at her place, her parents experienced how they comforted each other through screaming awake and panic attacks. And while they weren't 100% convinced that their love was pure platonic with a capital P, they gave the two of them a lot of leeway.

Still, Steve couldn't spend every waking (and sleeping) moment with someone nearby, no matter how he tried, so sometimes bad days fell on him when he was all alone. Those days Steve was lucky if he could pull himself out of bed, let alone tend to any of his bodily needs. So today, a day without work, or get togethers, or errands, Steve didn't crawl out of bed until nearly 2pm. He didn't bother showering, he took one yesterday, and he certainly didn't bother with his hair, the strands laying flat in his head in a tangled mess. But he did feel hungry which was a good sign. Not that he had an appetite or wanted to eat. But he could, which is always a step up from being so downtrodden that just the thought of food made him nauseous even as his stomach grumbled.

So Steve put a shirt on to go with his boxers, and headed to the kitchen. Luckily, thanks to Robin mostly, he had quick, easy meals he could make fast for days like this. So he pulled a box of frozen turkey meatballs (Robin claimed beef was bad for your health) out of the freezer and, after reading the instructions on the back, out then in the oven to bake. Meanwhile, he set a lot of water to boil, pulling out spaghetti noodles and a bottle of rose sauce as he waited.

Leaning back against the countertop, Steve let his mind wander, not really focusing on anything, just checking the water every now and then, which is how he almost missed the knock at the door. Shaking himself back to awareness, Steve thought he'd just been hearing things, but then whoever was there started ringing the doorbell incessantly. Annoyed, Steve grabbed a frying pan just to be safe, and went to answer the door.

"What the fuck?!" Steve growled out, frying pan hidden behind his body as he wrenched the front door open.

"And a good afternoon to you as well sunshine!" Standing on his porch, smiling at his annoyance, was none other than Eddie Munson.

Taken aback, Steve just stared at him for a minute, trying to remember if they had anything planned that he'd forgotten about. He didn't think so, if anything he was always hyper aware of the other man and meticulously kept track of any plans they'd make with each other.

"Well princess, gonna invite me into your castle or did I drive alllll the way out here for nothing?" Hands in his pockets, Eddie rocked on his heels. A nervous tell for when he thought he was misreading a situation and wasn't sure if it was okay or not.

"Yeah, sorry man. Just was wondering if I'd forgotten we had a hang out sesh or something." Stepping back, Steve made room for a now smiling Eddie to bounce into his house.

Like, literally bounce, like the world's most metal bunny. It brought a smile to Steve's face, surprising since usually nothing really seemed funny on days like today. That was Eddie to a T though, wasn't it? Eddie was full of surprises and Steve hoped he would always be around so he could continue to be surprised by him.

"Nah, you're cool man. Wayne's on days this week so I was all by my lonesome. Figured if all the kids and Robin were busy, then you'd be alone too. So I thought we could be alone together." Suddenly tipping his head back, Eddie took big exaggerated sniffs. "Speaking of, you cooking? Something smells good."

Walking into the kitchen, Steve noted that the water was now boiling, so he made his way to the stove, dropping the frying pan on the counter.

"Uhhhh..." Eddie trailed off, looking at the frying pan.

Taking out the noodles, Steve addressed Eddie as he placed them in the water. "I wasn't expecting anyone today, figured better safe than sorry."

"Fair." Levering himself up, Eddie plopped himself onto the countertop, leaning back against the cupboards. "You okay Stevie? You seem kinda...down?"

After checking the meatballs and flipping them over, Steve placed his hands on the counter and leaned his weight on them as he contemplated what to say. Eddie seemed to realise this as well since he stayed silent, just looking at Steve with that little furrow between his brows that meant he was concerned.

Taking a deep breath, Steve turned to face Eddie, keeping an eye on the noodles from the corner of his eye.

"I, uh, could be better. But I've also been worse. I've had days where I couldn't eat before, so the fact that I'm cooking today is a good sign."

"Oh, shit man, that sucks. I'm really glad I came over then. You guys are pretty on top of making sure I'm okay, it's nice to return the favour." Kicking his legs back and forth, Eddie leaned forward and gave Steve a small, almost bashful smile.

"So your idea of being there for me is to come over and bum my food Munson. Good to know." Returning the smile, Steve made sure to pay Eddie on the leg, letting him know he was just joking.

Turning away he bent over to grab a strainer from a drawer, figuring the noodles and meatballs would be almost done by now.

"Hey, sharing a meal is a bonding activity. What're you making anyway?" Eddie asked, leaning forward as Steve strained the pasta, leaving it to cool for a moment as he bent over to take out the meatballs.

From this angle, Steve could see from the corner of his eye as Eddie used his angle to check out his ass.

Now they've been flirting for a little while. Or at least, Robin assured him they'd been, and all the kids kept asking him to make a move since they can't stand Eddie's 'pining'. Even Uncle Wayne and his band had given Steve a talk, warning him not to hurt Eddie. Combine that with Steve's lowered filter whenever he was in one of these moods, and Steve felt he could not be responsible for the next words out of his mouth.

"Enjoying the view Munson?" Steve asked, sticking his ass out even more as he practically presented himself just trying to take out the damn meatballs.

Eyes shooting back up, Eddie froze in place. His eyes were a little wide and his face was closing off, a barrier coming up to conceal the panic Steve could see building up.

"Shit." Steve muttered to himself, quickly he pulled out the meatballs, depositing them on the stovetop before moving over to Eddie.

He reached up to take Eddie's face in his hands, then realised he was still wearing his oven mitts. Groaning in annoyance, he bit the top of one, pulling it off while removing the other with his now free hand, then threw them over his shoulder, not caring where they landed. His fumbling at least got Eddie to smile tentatively at him.

Hands now free, he cupped Eddie's face in his hands. He soothingly rubbed his thumbs face and forth across smooth skin and leaned in so their foreheads touched.

"Hey, I'm sorry Ed's. I didn't mean to make you upset. I just, I like you, and I thought you liked me too but if that's not the case it's okay, I won't as-"

"You like me?" Finally looking at him again, Eddie raised his hands and brought them to rest over Steve's on his face.

"Yeah. Yeah Eddie, I really like you."

Moving slowly, giving him enough time to pull away if he wanted to, Eddie moved their faces closer until he could place a soft, sweet kiss against his lips.

"Well that's good. Cause I'm kinda gone on you Harrington." Eddie moved his hands to instead tangle into Steve's hair, pulling him in for more shallow kisses, neither of them feeling up for escalating the moment.

Finally they pulled away, foreheads still pressed together, and they just breathed each other in. Later would be the time for conversations, but for now, Steve just pulled away with a final kiss so he could continue making the pasta.

Eddie hopped off the counter and wrapped his arms around Steve from behind as he went through the motions of combining the pasta, meatballs and sauce. They only separated when Steve moved to get plates from the cupboard and served out two, very sad portions of pasta. No garlic bread, no salad, no side of any kind. Even Eddie, who had eaten very questionable food cause he and Wayne couldn't afford to waste anything, looked less than impressed.

"You weren't kidding Stevie. This is sad." Eddie said, even as he speared a meatball and scooped up some noodles for a first bite. "But it's not bad." Was the conclusion.

"Yeah, I know. This is what Robin and I call depression meal number six." Steve replied, chuckling lightly as he dug in as well, grimacing at the bland taste.

Eddie looked at him for a moment, then smiled and said. "My number one is mac and cheese."

They smiled at each other, this kind of thing wasn't unusual with their group after all. Steve knew Robin's go-to's, and Dustin's and now Eddie's.

Then Eddie got a mischievous look on his face. "Would you say this is, depre-sghetti?"

It took Steve a solid minute to translate that sentence in his head. But when he realised what it was, he didn't even try to stop the bitchy look that came over his face. It didn't help that Eddie was biting his lower lip, brows scrunched together when he was trying to hold back laughter.

"Get the fuck out of my house." Steve deadpanned, and that broke Eddie.

He laughed so hard he bent double, quickly putting his plate on the counter so he could slap his own thighs. It made Steve smile, seeing Eddie so happy. But he had a reputation to maintain, so he took his sad, sad meal, and went to sit in the living room, turning on the tv.

Eddie eventually joined him, still giggling when he saw the blank look on Steve's face. For the rest of the evening, they sat thigh to thigh, chatting and watching whatever was on as background noise. And when the sun set and Steve yawned, still heavy with the sadness that burdened this whole day, Eddie made sure he brushed his teeth and washed his face, then tucked him in and held him all night.

It was one of the best bad days he'd had in a while. And it was only the first of many.

@steddieassheg0es @oakenorcrist

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #my writing #this was inspired by my friend calling my depression spaghetti depre-sghetti #i told her to fuck off lol

[galaxseacreature]

Please tell me about fish taxi and what's a culvert

Absolutely! Allow me to set the scene:

Two salmon are swimming upstream when they smack directly into a huge concrete wall. One turns to the other and says, "Dam."

...that one definitely works better out loud, with a nice flat delivery. But it's a good starting point. Unlucky salmon are doomed to deliver the punchline to this terrible dad joke. Really lucky salmon are blessed with wild rivers with no dams at all. Medium lucky salmon have to ride the salmon cannon, navigate a fish ladder, or catch the fish taxi to get upstream. These are all fish passage solutions put in place to make up for those most intimidating barriers to migration: dams.

A quick note: I'm going to continue to focus on salmon in the Pacific Northwest, because that's what I'm familiar with. Different locations with different species of fish may have other concerns or solutions related to fish passage. But it's a big deal here because salmon have to migrate upstream to lay their eggs and continue their life cycle and everyone wants there to keep being iconic and delicious salmon around.

With that out of the way, and seeing as this post is already getting long, buckle up for the fish taxi details with a side of culverts under the cut! I promise a video and a meme to liven things up before we wrap.

Fish ladders are old news. Boring. And, frankly, expensive and challenging to design well and impossible to implement at all above a certain size.

Enter the fish taxi. The idea is as simple as it is ridiculous. Just round up your fish on the downstream side, put them in a truck with a big water tank, and drive them upstream of the dam for release. Easy peasy!

In practice there's a little more to it. Puget Sound Energy operates two dams on the Baker River. Their fish trap below the lower dam is pretty fancy, and even includes an "aquatic elevator" to raise fish up into the sorting facility. There's a whole series of gates and chutes and moveable walls that direct fish into the right holding tanks before finally being loaded into the trucks.

Not to boost corporate talking points about their mitigation strategies, but it is objectively a pretty successful site and this video shows the process well:

An extra cool thing about the Baker River fish taxi is that it also runs juveniles downstream. That may sound obvious but it's a huge improvement over old strategies like "hopefully some of them survive tumbling down the spillway or through the turbines." Ok, most dams have some form of bypass around the turbines, and the spillway is often the safer-than-it-looks intended route, but it still seems rough being a small fry. Getting rounded up in the floating collector and taking a taxi ride downstream starts to sound pretty good, all things considered.

Whew! That's the story of the fish taxi!

I'm going to try to keep culverts short (for now) because they're much less sexy. Normal people almost never think about culverts, but they cross them every day. Culverts are the pipes that carry water under roads. Although they aren't just pipes, they can be box or arch shaped structures and made of a variety of materials...but I digress! Basically any time a road crosses water that doesn't rate a bridge, there's a culvert. Some are just to drain runoff. Many driveways have a small culvert for the roadside ditch. But some are larger and allow entire streams to pass under the road. If they're sized appropriately, set at the right height to prevent a water surface drop, and not sloped too steeply, culverts can be completely passable and fish friendly! Alas, they often are not. Dams may be the largest structures that act as fish passage barriers, but culverts are by far the most numerous.

Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife inventories fish passage barriers to salmon and steelhead and estimates some 18,000-20,000 statewide. This is almost certainly on the low end. I mean, just imagine how MANY roads there are, and how MUCH water there is in Washington, a famously wet place. They intersect a lot. If you want to get a sense of the scale, there's a public facing, interactive map of WDFW-identified barriers here. Most of the points are culverts. Only the green points are fully fish passable. There are probably lots more points that haven't been surveyed at all yet. So yeah

[ID: "X, X Everywhere" Meme of Woody and Buzz from Toy Story reading "Culverts. Culverts everywhere." End ID]

Anyone who made it to the end has my gratitude and is welcome to use the very unofficial title of "Junior Fish Passage Nerd" any time they want. And if you made it here and are still interested in hearing about culverts or fish passage more generally...well, you know where to find me!

#fish taxi #salmon #fish passage #mitigation #fish migration #anadromy #salmonids #idk what to tag exactly like who on earth would check the fish passage tag on tumblr? a very strange person...me now actually. #also sorry this post is so long i just had a lot to say #but for real i could talk even more. there's always more to say. welcome to fish passage- it's like most things that way

[ophelia-writes-stuff]

♥ a ghost of him . oneshot ♥

. pairing : austin!elvis x fem!reader

. summary / request : after too much mistreatment, you leave the love of your life, despite him begging for you to stay.

. notes / warning : angst, cheating (allusions to and mentions of), divorce/breakup, allusions/mentions of sex, swearing, reader is quite the pushover for a while. read this w/ sad music if you can cuz it makes the whole thing so much better lol.

. word count : 2.5k

(♥) . . . request something . masterlist . taglist . navigation

It was easy to pretend, at first. All the late nights he spent out, never coming home until it was most certainly past midnight.

In the beginning, you could tolerate it. A string of apologies was always followed when he'd come home late, and Elvis would pepper you with affection and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you two would lay together. He always did have a special way of convincing you that everything was going to be just fine– that everything was fine, and, at the time, you had no cause to disbelieve him. Though his staying out late was a cause for concern, the only thing you were truly worried about was his sleep schedule.

But, as it was mentioned, that was only just the beginning.

Gradually, Elvis would come home later, both tired and intoxicated. He would barley utter a word before he'd collapse on the bed. You were lucky if you heard a simple "goodnight" or "I love you" escape his lips, and you'd resorted to pretending to be asleep at night as you didn't want him to feel guilty in the morning, like he commonly would. Sometimes he never did come home, opting to sleep somewhere else, may it be a friend's house or a hotel– he never did specify exactly where. And, although it did hurt you, you knew how hard Elvis worked. You didn't want to be yet another source of stress for him to bear on his already burdened shoulders. Though you had to admit, the lack of intimacy or affection was getting to you.

Most mornings Elvis would make breakfast for the two of you, that was, before his career had taken off. When he wasn't yet in the public eye, you could remember waking up to always finding him frying some sort of breakfast goodie. And so, one morning, you decided that, as a kind gesture, you'd make Elvis some eggs and bacon before he left for work.

Stretching your arms out and letting out a yawn, you rolled over to admire Elvis's sleeping features, only to notice several lipstick stains littered along his skin.

And you, being the understanding person you were, made the mistake to completely ignore it. And when Elvis had came out of bed and greeted you with a tired "good morning" and no evidence of the marks on him whatsoever, you found it easy to convince yourself that what you had seen was just a hallucination-- a projection of you deepest fears. After all, Elvis Presley, your loving husband and closest confident, could never, in his heart, do something like that, right?

And yet, as time passed on, it only seemed more plausible. Elvis hadn't even had a full conversation with you since a few weeks ago, and the late nights kept getting later, and the drinking became more and more heavy, and yet, as time went on, you found yourself defending Elvis in your own mind.

He's drunk, he'd never do this is he were sober all the time, you'd think to yourself. Plus, he's so tired, maybe he deserves it. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I'm not a good enough wife. Maybe the women he sleeps with are simply better than me.

It never occurred to you that he was the one in the wrong for the longest of times.

For a while, your relationship with your husband went on like this-- a time too long for you to want to admit. But, between one excuse for him and another, you came to the horrific realization that he truly was the one in the wrong, that you were no longer married to Elvis Presley, rather, you were married to his ghost-- someone you never quite knew the location of, but always knew was there in one way or another.

And so, on the night of your two's own anniversary-- think of that, the very same day you both got married, the happiest day of your life-- you sat on the patio at 11:59, awaiting his presence. And, staring at your watch, you couldn't help but dread the moment you knew was bound to come.

The moments following the clock striking twelve were the most painful of your life.

You let out a shaky sigh as you closed you eyes for a moment. You tried to let in a steady intake of breath but the threat of tears falling from your eyes prohibited you from doing so. It took everything in you to stand up and walk into your bedroom, and even more so to start packing your clothing with your essentials. You tried not to pay mind to the fact that Elvis had, indeed, bought almost if not everything in your wardrobe.

Your mind was in some kind of panicked frenzy as you attempted to grab everything of yours as quickly as possible. You hadn't even registered the sound of a car entering the driveway and Elvis opening the door before you heard a confused voice behind you say,

"What is all o' this for?"

Startled, your back whirled around to face no other than your husband, Elvis Presley. His eyes were narrowed on your form, and you couldn't help but feel a little guilty, noticing the worried puzzlement that adorned his features. But, despite his asking, you hesitantly returned to your packing, not offering up any information. You didn't trust yourself around that man, not when he still had such a tight grip on your heart. In a mere sentence he could have you running back to him with open arms.

Elvis stood there for a couple of moments, eyes boring holes into your back, before asking again, "Baby, what the hell are you doing'?" The anger is his voice wasn't suppressed whatsoever, and you couldn't help yourself as you felt your eyes grow wet with tears. So many years you'd spent with this man, all thrown away in a single day. So much time wasted with someone who was never truly yours. You knew fame corrupts, but you could never imagine that it would be this drastic.

"Y/n, what on the goddamn Earth do you think you're--"

"I'm leaving you, Elvis."

So much for not speaking.

A dreadful silence followed. You froze, awaiting Elvis's response.

And then, came a nervous chuckle. "You're quite the comedian, I have to admit. Very, very funny."

You wished you were joking.

You let out a shaky breath as your trembling hands, though with much difficulty, closed the zipper of your suitcase.

And, with everything you had left, you turned to face Elvis. His face was plastered with an oblivious smile.

"I'm not joking, Elvis. I- I'm leaving. I'm leaving you. I'm leaving you for good." You repeated the phrase, finding it almost impossible to process.

I'm leaving you, the love of my life, the one I've given my heart to. I'm leaving you, my husband, the one who I'd sacrifice anything I have for.

I'm leaving you, my lover, the one who no longer feels the same. I'm leaving you, my closest friend, who has betrayed me over, and over, and over.

I'm leaving you.

"Y/n, are you alright?"

You stared at him incredulously, your fury mixing with the sadness that you had shoved deep into the confines of your heart. "Am I alright?" you echoed in disbelief. "Am I alright? Are you seriously asking me that, Elvis?"

Elvis let out a sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes.

"Y/n, if this is about the nights spent out blowing steam off with my friends--"

"This is not about that, Elvis." You wished you could have hid the slight tremble in your voice when you spoke, but it was pointless. Your eyes flit to the door that Elvis stood in front of, almost as if he was guarding it.

"Now, please move so that I can leave?"

Something in Elvis seemed to snap.

"Oh, you don't get to leave until I get an explanation for any o' this. I'm not going to just let my own wife walk out on me when I don' even know what nothin' about what I've done wrong-- which would be nothing, by the way, so you're going to tell me exactly why in God's name you'd be standin' out here with your suitcase packed and trying to leave me. I ain't done nothing wrong."

It was pathetic, really, to see him acting as if he was innocent. He hadn't even tried to hide it before, but now? He was trying to act like a good guy. And perhaps, in some way, you'd let him. Perhaps you'd save him from having to hear it come from your lips. Perhaps you'd be able to save your self from crumbling in front of the very man you'd been a fool for for so very long.

"We both know what it is, Elvis. Now, can you please save the both of us and just let me leave? Please, I just want to leave. That's all I ask. I don't want to make this any harder for you or myself..." Elvis could see it-- could see how much it hurt you, how much your heart broke as you spoke, but he still pressed on, "Goddamnit, Y/n, just fucking tell me what the hell I did!"

You felt a sob wrack through your body at the sudden loud tone of his voice. "Elvis, you--" Another sob. It felt so surreal to say it. It was so simple-- Elvis, you cheated on me-- but the words simply refused to come out.

Though, eventually, reluctantly, they did. In the softest, quietest tone Elvis had ever heard you speak in, you whispered, "Elvis, you had sex with another woman. Or maybe women. I don't know. I never can tell with you."

Here it was at last. Catharsis. No longer could you play the role of the oblivious wife. And to that, you felt freedom-- a certain freedom that you hadn't felt in so long. But you also felt so goddamn lonely, because you were. You were alone, completely and utterly alone.

And Elvis seemed to finally notice you, because, as he took one look at his wife, one truly good look at you, he could see the anger, and the fear, and the heartbreak, and the sadness. And all he could think was, how had I never seen any of that before? And only in this moment did he truly realize the weight of what he'd done.

He'd lost you.

The love of his life. His rock.

His own wife.

So, with a trembling voice and a trembling hand, he lifted your chin and said, "Now, darlin', why would you every think I'd do something like that?"

You'd hoped that Elvis would have finally admitted to what he'd done, but he was proud. Too proud. Your eyes flickered shamefully to the floor, for you almost felt as if you were the one at fault, and you let out another sob.

"Please, Elvis, just let me go," you whimpered, because you were sad, and tired, and heartbroken, and betrayed, and this was the last place you wanted to be.

Elvis's grip remained strong on your chin, but i became obvious that he was crumbling as easily as you were.

"No, Y/n, I can't- I can't just let you go. I can't... you can't leave me, baby. I love-- you can't... I love you, Y/n. I love you more than anyone else. You're my bestest girl, Y/n, my bestest girl. I can't live without you. Please. You have to stay..."

If your heart had been broken before, Elvis may as well just shattered the pieces of your heart and scattered them around the Earth, because he was finally saying all the things you had wanted him to say for so, so long, but it was too late. He said it all the very moment it was too late. But you couldn't give in. You had to be strong.

"Elvis, this isn't love," you said, pulling back from his grip on your chin. You couldn't stand to look at him.

"It is, Y/n. I love you-- I love you with everything I have in me. I slipped up while I was drunk, and I am so, so sorry, but I'll make it up to you, because I love you. I always have, baby."

"No, Elvis. You don't. You don't love me. Love are your actions, not your feelings. If you loved me, Elvis, you wouldn't have gotten drunk every goddamn night. If you loved me, Elvis, you wouldn't have gone out and cheated on me, again, and again, and again. "

Your chin quivered more and more with every single word.

"But when I look at you, I don't see love. I see regret. You regret your actions, Elvis, but you don' love me. You may have loved me, once, but that time has passed a long, long time ago. It's too late now Elvis."

"C'mon, baby, you can't mean it..."

"I can't? When was the last time we ate together, Elvis? When's the last time you kissed me-- really kissed me? When's the last time we had a conversation lasting as long as this one? You're a ghost, Elvis. You come home, and you go to sleep with cherry red lipstick stains on your neck every goddamn night, and when I wake up, you're gone. And now you're here, saying all these things that I wish you would have said so long ago, but it's already too late."

Your eyes snap closed scornfully. "You know it's too late."

Your husband stared at your in complete and utter disbelief, his eyes wide and brimming with tears as you spoke every word. Regret was the only thing that now filled his hollow heart, and he could only stand in shock as he listened to you.

"I'd say I'll miss you, Elvis, but I already have missed you. I am missing you." You open your eyes and stare at your husband.

"I miss the old Elvis. Where could he have gone?" Elvis was speechless. All he could do was stare at you guiltily.

Locking eyes with your now heartbroken husband, you let out a shaky sigh as you walked up to him and kissed him-- really kissed him-- for the very last time. And you couldn't help but feel that, despite the wetness or both of your lips, and your trembling hands, and his quavering jaw, it felt almost just as good as the first time he kissed you, and Elvis couldn't help but regret every action that lead to this moment when you pulled away and stared at him with an endearingly heartbroken smile, before walking over and gabbing your bag, and opening the front door to your house-- or rather, Elvis's house.

But when you felt something grip onto your wrist, time froze as your head turned in Elvis's direction. "When you're forty and I'm fifty..." He didn't stare at you. He couldn't stare at you. "We'll get back together. You'll see." And you couldn't help the sad yet hopeful smile that adorned your face for a fleeting moment, and Elvis knew he'd never forget it, when you closed the door and he never saw you again.

#lia-writes #lia-oneshots #elvis x reader #austin elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #austin butler elvis #cheating #breakup #heartbreak #elvis angst #elvis divorce #divorce #marriage #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis movie 2022 #elvis the king #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis film #elvis biopic #elvis and priscilla #elvis movie #elvis x y/n #austin elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis presley x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #elvis fanfiction

[clevervonskelli]

some thoughts on The Night Agent

Pros:

The real mix of male and female characters and their importance or roles within the narrative itself. It all felt so natural. 

For the most part, even the ‘villainous’ characters have so many moments where you can appreciate their complexity and flaws, rather than just dismissing them as (boring) baddies with purely evil motivations.

The relationship between Peter and Rose is nice. Could the story have worked without the romantic love angle? Yes. Could we have done without the heavy petting / possibly-alluding-to-dance-with-no-pants scene on the boat right when the intensity of the story and the stakes were very high? Most definitely. (Sorry, I usually hate that in action stories bc okay, if you could die in the next hour then why not, but also you have bigger fish to fry right now, folks!!). It was still nice though. They work as a pair and the chemistry was great. There was a sweetness to them that I really appreciated.

Enough people croak that it feels realistic, even if you’re still rooting for those miraculous, lucky saves that would end up making you think “they wouldn’t all make it if this was real” for the characters you like.

Background hints are given and there is a world outside the story (especially important for an action, conspiracy, thrill, run-from-the-gov type pieces that have the potential to feel very isolating and insular). But none of it is detailed excessively or used as a weird, unfulfilled diversion for the plot. It adds authenticity and stakes beyond the main thrust of the plot.

I cannot stress this enough: Rose essentially being like “I can’t hack EVERYTHING Peter, that’s not how the world works” and still needing to do physical, analogue, paper research. Yes, yes, YES!

Love that they didn’t take the comfortable way out and make Peter Sr’s shit be a part of this / another conspiracy and didn’t make things easy for Peter Jr. as a reward for everything he accomplished by the end of the narrative.

Every. single. time. Rose attacks someone.

**Bonus:

Rose and the Rome Tome nuts’ wallets? Perfection. The show’s capacity for quiet humour despite the action shenanigans is good throughout, but my god that early moment is never topped.

The Canada Post truck that cruises by in one of the most obvious shots I have recently seen of that happening for a show set in the US. Gotta love Canadian filming locations!

Cons:

The almost forced-feeling cursing and some overdone dialogue in the first couple eps. I’m not sure if I just got more used to it after or if it really did improve as the episodes continued.

A full emergency / med kit in the boat but they needed to crack open the liquor to sterilise the wound? What the hell?!?

Whatever the fuck was going on with the assassins in that hotel room re: her riding his hand like a rodeo participant. The impotent thing is fine, it brings something interesting to their dynamic and his character as a whole (although we certainly don’t like the possible implication that this adds to his heinousness or whatever because fuck that noise, THAT’S not why he’s a monster!) but the sex scene itself felt unnecessary AF.

Umm, on that note, creepy-eyes assassin lady? Stealing a baby and raising it rather than conceiving and birthing and raising it would still make you parents, and the kid could easily still end up as fucked-up as you’re imagining, even if it doesn’t share your genes.

Disregard my earlier comment about the benefit of so many people being knocked off; Cisco was an unacceptable loss and I want him to be not dead.

#The Night Agent #spoilers #Netflix #Rose Larkin #Peter Sutherland #show thoughts

[sorry-apsalar]

Frender Drabbles: Paternal Issues

Summary: more hurt/comfort but with fry’s trauma

[A/N] Oops, comfort didn't exactly happen in this one. Fry decides he'd rather emotionally run away from addressing the fact that he might have some unresolved trauma and Bender is Bender. Together they have the combined emotional intelligence of a sack of potatoes.

~

This was why Fry never liked to talk about his childhood or parents, everyone always gave him the kind of look Bender was giving him now. The kind of look one gave to those who just confessed to something horrible having been done to them. But nothing horrible had been done to Fry. He was the younger less achieving brother so of course his parents didn’t pay much attention to him. That’s just how it was for everyone, right? Or at least everyone from his home time.

“You ran away for three whole days and nobody noticed?” Bender asked, sounding almost like he didn’t believe it.

“Uh… yeah.” And it was supposed to be a funny story because his parents had certainly always told it as if it were funny story so it had to be. Though the way they’d always told it was that he’d ‘claimed’ to have run away for three days because they seriously hadn’t known until he’d asked them if they’d noticed. How big a deal he’d made of it when learning that was apparently the funny part. “I was fourteen so they assumed I was in my room all day.”

“That’s fucked up. Even I’d noticed if you disappeared for that long and I don’t have time to pay attention to all your silly organic fickleness.” As if he didn’t notice when Fry left unexpectedly for even just an hour or two. “But if this is an attempt at making me feel bad for taking all your money so I start going easy on you, it failed. Read ‘em and weep.” He threw down his cards on the table between them. His hand was certainly better than the one Fry had just laid down by a long shot.

“I’m starting to think you’re cheating.” Or he was just really lucky in addition to being good at poker.

Bender made a sound like he was trying to imitate an offended gasp. “Me, cheat? I would never.” With a chuckle, he pulled the pile of bottle caps they were using in place of poker chips to his side of the table. “That’s twenty more bucks you owe me. You wanna go another round to try to win it back?”

With how little luck Fry was having he should probably decline and insist they leave the kitchen to watch TV in the living room instead. But… “All right. I’m shuffling this time though.” He gathered up the cards and pulled him towards himself.

“Seriously though,” Bender said as Fry split the deck, “you should see a meatbag therapist, or whatever Leela was talking about the other day, about your paternal issues. They’re almost as bad as hers and she didn’t have parents growing up.”

“I don’t have paternal issues.” He’d had a perfectly normal childhood with perfectly normal parents… probably. Of the few friends he’d had back then he hadn’t been close enough to any of them to go to their houses and thus meet their parents. So he didn’t have much to compare his parents to that weren’t fiction or Leela’s parents and they didn’t count because they hadn’t raised her, not really anyway.

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.” Bender didn’t sound the least bit convinced.

“I will because it’s true.” Probably anyway. … But if even Bender believed something was wrong with the way Fry’s parents had raised him then… maybe something was wrong? If so, it was too late to do anything about it now though other than to complain and that wouldn’t get him anywhere so why bother? Fry would much rather go back to chatting and trying to win at least a single game of poker. He’d get lucky eventually, maybe even this next hand, wouldn’t that be neat?

#my writing #futurama #frender #frender drabbles #philip j fry #bender bending rodriguez

[athcme-arc]

　　　　 @wnterslder​ sent: "okay, sure ... what does that do?"

　　　　Shuri’d have never thought that having an American walking around her lab was going to be that much fun. Sure, things weren’t always easy and bad days sometimes made it hard to see the bright side, but still there was so much they could appreciate when the project didn’t suck every single drop of energy out of them. The fact that Bucky had travelled all the way to Wakanda hoping she would be able to give him back his mind was a responsibility Shuri’d never taken lightly, but luckily enough she had more self-confidence in her skills than most. The only reason why she’d said yes to helping him was that she knew that she could do it — somehow, how exactly being a thing she’d barely started to figure out. Days upon days of working on the words were quite a challenge to bear — for him most certainly, but it wasn’t easy on her either to see the man she now considered a true friend struggle that way —, so there were times Shuri just decided to give them both a break. That was one of those occasions. When Bucky had entered the lab, that day, he’d found her with two bags filled with burger, fries, and donuts and a new special project she wanted him to take a look at.

　　　　« That is the new and improved version of my gauntlets. Old ones shot sonic waves, but I was bored so I decided why not try and make them nuclear EMP? » Crazy, really, what kind of ideas came to her mind when she wasn’t busy designing weapons for T’Challa or looking at scans of Bucky’s brainwaves. She was definitely one of those people lucky enough to consider their job also their favourite hobby, and whenever she needed a distraction she still ended up working on something else in her lab. « They’re still highly unstable, though, so I wouldn’t touch them. They’re not what I wanted to show you, anyway. » Snacking on another french fry, her clean hand fingers moved on one of the tablets. One of the tables opened, her new project slowly appearing — a black and gold prosthetic arm, unfinished but quite majestic already. A proud smirk appeared on her lips, waiting for Bucky’s reaction. « So, what do you think? Was wondering if you’d like some cool feature in it. »

#I know this is not how bucky got the arm in the movies but #you can't tell me shuri didn't ask his feedback on it #she lives to impress people with her tech toys tbh #( * character: shuri. #wnterslder

[rheawritessometimes]

A Not-So-Bad Deal

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Babysitting Childe has its ups and downs. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Swearing, Injury, Physical Intimacy, Mild Spice, PDA, Not Beta Read, Barely Proof Read.

{ Notes } Reader is implied to have commitment issues. Accidental flirting, because intentional flirting is awkward and hard. Didn't explicitly state what each breakfast item was, but they're based on popular Russian breakfast foods. Ahah, not me setting myself up for yet another part?? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,955

The sentiment of spending Childe's recovery with him being a simple endeavor was quickly thrown into the garbage when you were awakened before the sun had even begun to peek over the horizon to the sound of what you were sure was a break-in. Rolling out of the bed with your sword materializing in your hand was done entirely on instinct, you were still too groggy to have any proper thought. Stealthily exiting the room, you made your way to the source of the noise, the kitchen.

Needless to say, you were more than annoyed to find that the 'break in' was actually a familiar Harbinger making breakfast, tearing apart the kitchen in the process. Your sword dematerialized as you brought a hand up to massage your temples to ward off a headache. Childe was humming cheerily in the middle of the mess of ingredients and cookware, some of which you were certain had not been necessary to whatever it was he was making. There was no way that many bowls were necessary for any recipe.

The Snezhnayan flashed a bright grin when he saw you, but the gesture did nothing to ease the scowl that had settled onto your features. That didn't seem to dampen his mood in the least, he merrily continued preparing what appeared to be enough food to feed a lot more people than were currently occupying his apartment. Was he expecting a lot of company this morning?

"I thought we made a deal that involved you resting and not cooking enough to feed a small army at ass in the morning," you remarked, the sarcasm laid on thick enough to be dripping from each word. Much to your frustration, this only made him laugh as he turned the stove on.

"Well, I usually wake up early but this morning I had nothing to do since someone broke my bones. So, I decided to make a nice breakfast for my guest to enjoy with me," he responded with faux innocence, though there was laughter in his voice that easily gave him away. His words were still effective in making you feel a little guilty, so you wordlessly brought the dishes you were fairly certain he was done with to the sink and began washing them.

The two of you fell into a comfortable quiet after that, you were busy cleaning a mountain of dishes and Childe's focus was on frying a few eggs and cutting up a bowl of strawberries. You were mindful to stay out of the way as Childe cooked and he made an effort to set the cookware he was finished with beside the sink for you. The rhythm you two had quickly settled into felt startlingly domestic, something you reminded yourself not to like, and certainly not to get used to.

"Maybe I did make a little too much," the Harbinger muses somewhat sheepishly as he looks at the table he had just finished setting. It was without a doubt too much food for only two people, the table at risk of collapsing under the weight of it all. You could only nod in agreement.

"Your guard might appreciate a plate," you offered, as though one more person would make much of a difference against the mountain of food. You had to admit, everything did look delicious. The table was laid out with fried eggs, some porridge, a few sandwiches with sausage on them, what appeared to you to be some kind of crêpes, pancakes of some sort, the bowl of cut strawberries, and a kettle of tea. It would be no trouble finding people willing to eat the excess food.

"I suppose my subordinates deserve a nice breakfast," the redhead sighs dramatically, "They're lucky they have such a nice boss."

"Mhm, and if you ever fall out with the Fatui you could certainly find a job as a cook," you reply after sampling a forkful of his work. Living in Liyue had you more accustomed to chopsticks, but it was evident after going through Childe's kitchen that he did not own a pair. As a witness to his attempts at using them, you weren't very surprised by this finding. A fork was easy enough to figure out, anyway.

"I'm glad you like it," the redhead responds with a grin, quickly busying himself with his own plate. As he eats, he begins to talk about having similar breakfasts with his family in Snezhnaya. This turns into him recounting learning how to make these dishes with his mother and you quietly listen along, making the occasional comment and smiling fondly at his memories and the way he became more animated as he spoke about his family.

The sun had emerged by the time each of you had eaten what you could, and you cleared the plates while Childe ordered his guard to distribute the remaining food to his subordinates stationed in Liyue. You were halfway through cleaning the dishes when the Snezhnayan waltzed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He contented himself with watching, not bothering to even offer his assistance.

"I was thinking we should do something. I've been cooped up for too long. Maybe a casual hike up Mt. Aozang?" he suggested, causing you to pause in your ministrations and glance back at him with a raised brow. No hike up Mt. Aozang would be a casual one considering the terrain and potential enemies of the area.

"It's been less than a full day," you pointed out, "And, hm, what was it? Oh yeah, and you have a few broken ribs."

"What are a few broken ribs to a Fatui Harbinger?"

"It's a no, Childe," you firmly insisted, causing him to groan and mumble about you being a 'spoil sport'. It was easy enough to ignore him as you finished up with your small chore.

"I'm using your shower," you informed him once you turned away from the sink. He only hummed in response, still pouting against the counter. It was all you could do to not roll your eyes at his childish behavior.

"What am I even supposed to do for six weeks if I can't go out and fight things?" he whined, and this time you did roll your eyes.

"Well, maybe you can still improve your fighting," you mused, "Have you ever tried working on your strategy? Because that could definitely use some improvement."

The Harbinger huffed indignantly at your words, taking the mature route and sticking his tongue out at you as you left the kitchen to take a shower. He could pout to himself in the kitchen while you had a relaxing shower.

The apartment's bathroom was on the smaller side, but it was still easily workable and didn't feel at all cramped. You had brought with you your own toiletries, but that didn't stop you from poking around Childe's well-organized things out of curiosity. There wasn't anything of particular interest so you decided to just get cleaned up and figure out what to do for the day.

Leaving the bathroom wrapped in a towel and feeling refreshed, you made your way to the guest room to pull out something to wear for the day. You decided on something comfortable, it didn't seem like you'd be going out today anyways and if you did you could always change into something more suitable. After getting dressed and taking care of a few more things, you left the guest room in search of Childe.

It was a simple task finding the Harbinger, he was seated at the table flipping through the pages of a book. You were more than surprised to see it was a book on battle strategy, although you noted it was one focused on group tactics to be used in war organization. You supposed it shouldn't have been any great shock to find he had such books, considering his position as a Fatui Harbinger who was known for his knack for combat. But to actually find him taking your advice was not something you had expected.

"Finally done with your shower?" Childe asked, looking up from his reading, "Good, you were stinky."

His tone made it clear he was joking, and you gasped in mock offense. You both laughed at this, his cerulean eyes shining with amusement. You weren't sure you'd ever seen eyes more beautiful than his.

"Anyways, I was thinking we should go for a walk around the harbor and have a late lunch a Wanmin. Then we can just wander looking for stuff to do, or we could go out to that one boat. Or maybe Zhongli will be at the market and invite us for tea," Childe suggested, setting the book down on the table. You raised your brows at his 'plan'.

"It's been a long time since I've had any time off and I don't know what to do," he justified, crossing his arms over his chest. You only shook your head, smiling softly at his pout.

"Alright, I wouldn't mind a walk around the harbor, at least. Lunch at Wanmin sounds good too. We'll see what happens afterward," you conceded, watching his expression immediately brighten. Just a walk shouldn't be too strenuous, so you weren't terribly worried about his bones. Plus, you wouldn't be able to keep him in bed all day and this was a much better alternative to him going out and finding a fight.

"Let me just get changed into something more presentable."

It wasn't long before you were walking along the docks of the harbor with Childe. You were hand in hand with him, the redhead had grabbed your hand early on, intertwining your fingers with a cheeky grin. You didn't resist when he did this, comfortable with showing the small amount of affection even in public.

Looking out across the calm waters of the harbor, you couldn't help but think it matched the blue of the Harbinger's eyes. While he had an excellent poker face when necessary, Childe's eyes were often very expressive, allowing an easy read of his mood at a glance. Smiling fondly at the thought, you squeezed his hand gently before moving on.

The rest of the day progressed just as pleasantly, both you and Childe enjoying the sights of Liyue before getting lunch at Wanmin as he'd planned. After eating, you browsed the various stalls of Liyue's busy market, admiring the vast array of goods on display.

As the Snezhnayan had earlier predicted, you did meet Zhongli at the market and he did invite you two for tea. You wondered if he had planned it with Childe, but the polite man seemed entirely surprised to have encountered the both of you.

Tea with Zhongli turned out to be quite a lengthy endeavor, and you were rather exhausted by the end of it. He had recounted the history of Liyue well into the evening, in a way that reminded you of a professor during a lecture. It was Childe who was finally able to excuse the both of you, after several hours of education on the historic importance of Silk Flowers.

"Well, I did make a promise that I would rest, so I'm afraid we must be going."

"Ah, yes. It is always good to keep your promises," Zhongli agreed sagely, his words carrying a strange gravity. With polite goodbyes, you left with Childe to return to his apartment. The walk back was through darkness thanks to the hour, but the streets of Liyue were lit and there was still plenty of activity.

It was no surprise that both you and Childe were ready for bed by the time you made it through the door. He mumbled out a mostly unintelligible apology for how long tea with Zhongli had lasted before kissing the top of your forehead and disappearing into his room.

You stood in the hallways shocked by the affectionate gesture for a few seconds before deciding it would be best to just go to bed and forget about it. Surely the action was purely the result of exhaustion.

This time when you woke up the sun had already risen. Silently, you thanked Morax for not having to wake up to Childe's noisy breakfast-making. Even if his cooking was really good, without sleep you'd eventually become rather cranky, to put it lightly.

Exiting the spare bedroom, you found the Harbinger sprawled out on the couch looking through a stack of papers. You assumed it was Fatui business, something which you wanted nothing to do with at the moment. Maybe at another time, you would be interested in their secrets, but as of right now, they weren't really your problem.

"How are you feeling? In any pain?" you asked casually, making your way to the kitchen to retrieve some ice. Regardless of his answer, it was still advised to ice his side regularly.

"Mm, I'm fine. Took some of the medication earlier," he replied, most of his focus still on the documents in his hands. You briefly wondered how often it was that the Eleventh Harbinger did paperwork as opposed to fieldwork. You would have assumed he had a secretary or something for this kind of thing, though you supposed it made some sense for him to do it if he wasn't out in the field.

Leaving the kitchen with another makeshift icepack, you noticed he had set the papers down on the coffee table and draped an arm over his eyes. You raised a brow at this but didn't say anything as you placed the icepack on his side and sat on the couch where there was space beside his legs.

"I don't think I can last six weeks like this. I'm already dying of boredom," he confessed, raising his arm to see your response.

"I'm not sure I can last six weeks either," you replied snarkily. It seemed lost on him as he nodded in agreement before furrowing his brows and scowling at you. Realization.

"Hey, wait! What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, sitting up quickly and wincing at the resulting pain. You picked up the icepack that had slid down and pressed it against his side until one of his hands came up to hold it in place.

"It means I think sometimes you're a bit much," you laughed in response, ruffling his hair and causing his scowl to deepen. He swatted your hand away from his hair using his free hand, and you only smiled in amusement.

"I'll have you know I'm a fucking delight and you adore me," he asserted, staring you dead in the eyes with a challenging look. Now that he was closer, your eyes were drawn to the light smattering of freckles that crossed his nose and dusted both cheeks. From a distance, they weren't really visible, but now you could clearly see them.

"Mhm," you agreed absently, bringing a hand up to lightly cradle his jaw, swiping your thumb slowly across his cheek. It was only when he started leaning in that it dawned on you exactly what you were doing and how intimate it seemed. By the time his lips were pressed against yours, heat had risen to your cheeks and you were certain your face was a brilliant shade of scarlet. Luckily his eyes were closed so he couldn't see you in such a state, but you had a feeling he was able to feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Despite your flirtations having been unintentional, you didn't push Childe away. Instead, you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders and fell into the slow rhythm he had set. You heard the soft thump of something being tossed onto the coffee table, but you were distracted from that when his hands found your sides and he pulled you into his lap.

A soft breath left you when his lips moved down to your neck to place gentle kisses there. The featherlight touch had goosebumps raising across your skin and you were almost embarrassed by your body's reactions.

"Alright, maybe six weeks won't be too bad," Childe murmured against your neck and you could feel his smile. It made your heart flutter, you weren't sure you liked that.

"Oh, what made you change your mind?" you asked innocently, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Mm, I wonder." His lips began trailing back up your neck and over your jaw until he sealed them over yours again. The drag of his tongue across your bottom lip had you opening your mouth for him without a thought. In response, he pulled you closer to him, one hand reaching up to tangle in your hair.

When he finally pulled away, he smirked at your flushed appearance and the fact you were a bit breathless. The way he looked at you made butterflies flutter in your stomach and when his ocean eyes dropped to gaze at your lips you felt the overwhelming urge to flee.

"I need to go. I want to get you some proper icepacks from Baizhu and I should probably do some grocery shopping for you," you blurted, standing up. His arms fell easily away from you, but he looked up at you with a surprised and what you thought might be a slightly hurt expression.

"Um, okay," was all he could say as you retreated to the guest room to get dressed in something more appropriate for going out in public. Changing didn't take very long and you made sure to bring Mora along as you fled the apartment with barely so much as a 'goodbye'. Childe was still sitting stunned on the couch as you breezed out the door.

Running away was always a good way to deal with your problems.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin childe #genshin zhongli #genshin impact fatui #tartaglia #childe #ajax #zhongli #morax #rex lapis #fatui #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #domestic childe #breakfast #fluff #mild spice #swearing #a little kiss #tartagalicious #i'm so bad at tagging #injury #blegh enjoy

[evolutionsvoid]

I feel that the creatures of the volcanic deserts (AKA obsidian deserts) are a group that is hardly known by the outside world. You get a lot of talk about the beasts that live in jungles, or the monsters that live in the vast labyrinth of the Underworld, but not a lot of people mention these creatures. I would be interested in knowing how many people are even aware they exist! I feel if I asked anyone what a Shockscale or Flab Rat was, they would think I was either talking about a magic thing or an insult. Volcanic deserts are rare biomes, but there are other uncommon ones that people seem pretty knowledgeable of! So why don't people talk about them? Well, one theory is that volcanic deserts frequently get confused with other volcanic deserts, by that I mean dry land plus volcano. So when folk hear about them, they are confused which is which. Or in some cases, they may go visit it to see what the excitement is about and just find an arid piece of land by a lazy smoldering mountain. Not really all that interesting. Or it could be that people don't think deserts have anything in them, as that often happens with regular ones! I have surprised a lot of people whenever I prattle on about all the creatures that live in deserts, as they assume it is a barren wasteland! So perhaps they feel the same for volcanic deserts. These are legitimate theories, but I would like to submit my own! I would say that no one really talks about the flora and fauna of volcanic deserts because those ecosystems are absolutely awful to visit and nobody in their right mind would ever set root in one! Grating sand! Razor stone! Nonstop wind and lightening! It is a nightmare! Every sane explorer would turn back the second they watched a dune explode into a black shower of bladed chunks and crackling energy! They would see the utter misery this landscape brings and think "why not try the next one?" Sadly, not all who explore are levelheaded, and not all who seek knowledge are smart. By the way, have you guessed where I am writing this entry? I got to have something to do while I cower in this obsidian tube and wait for the apocalypse to ease up outside.   My gripes aside, it is a darn shame that these creatures get overlooked. This biome, harsh and cruel it may be, has created some incredible species and the world deserves to know their presence! By writing this down and informing others, I also do the service of granting this knowledge so others don't have to suffer like I did! In most cases, I would encourage my readers to go out and see these incredible sights themselves, but here I am fine with them reading it in a book and looking at all the pretty pictures. So, with that, get a nice drink, find someplace cozy and not full of sand to sit, and read on! This entry is on a rather peculiar beast of these horrible lands: the Shockscale Urchin! The Shockscale Urchin (or just Shockscale) is a terrestrial version of those spiny little balls you find in the ocean, preferring the sandy places that have a whole lot of fire and lightening. Like sea urchins, they do look like a moving mound, though they are decked out in scales instead of spines. This image is possible because the underside of the urchin is where their feet are, hidden under all those beautiful scales. Down below is also where its mouth is, so its topside is really a featureless looking pile of scales. This simplicity, however, has its beauty, which can be seen in its magnificent scales! Mixes of purple and black on these sturdy, metallic scales! While many are small, they grow larger and thicker as they move down and away from the body. Anchored in special muscles, these outer scales sweep out from the body and form structures that seem more fitting for birds! Metallic wings and a fanning tail are formed from these scales and controlled by muscles.  Despite their appearance, they cannot fly, as they are too heavy and not built for such an action. They don't so much flap but sweep and flow as the Shockscale moves and dances. With such beautiful and hardy scales, one would most certainly want one as a souvenir! Finding such a memento would seem rather thrilling, and easy too! If you are ever in a volcanic desert (first of all, have you listened to nothing I have said?) and wander the dunes, you would find some of these scales left in the sand. In some cases, you may watch a Shockscale crawl along and shed some of these scales as they navigate the chaotic terrain. At first glance, you would think yourself lucky! Here is a pretty trinket, let me just reach down and grab it! If you find yourself in this situation, pray that you have a smarter friend nearby ready to tackle you away from this enticing treasure. Hopefully you aren't wondering why I would say this, because I feel the name of this species should give a whole lot away.

  Just like the landscape, which is constantly ravaged by violent storms, the Shockscale harnesses the power of lightening! Special organs within their bodies are capable of producing some series shocks, which means they don't have to rely on absorbing lightening like the Elmis Spire. This means that they cannot run out of this energy, as long as they have the strength to use these organs! By putting them at full charge, the Shockscale is capable of creating a shock that will knock you off your roots and fry your leaves! This effect is powered up because they are coated in these metallic scales, making it so much easier for them to zap you! Thankfully, though, this can only happen if you touch or step on one, right? Good news for them and bad news for us, the answer is: No! The amazing thing about the Shockscale is that they are able to weaponize this electricity in a rather ingenious way! The scales they shed are not lost by accident, they drop them on purpose! That is because these scales are really conductive and practically pull the electricity in. If the Shockscale releases its energy near these fallen scales, the lightening will jump from its body to these lost pieces! That means if you grab a scale while one of these urchins are nearby, there is a chance they will fry you! Like I said, these dropped scales are not by accident, the Shockscale actually uses them! These creatures tend to have territories they stick to, and here they do their hunting. They will sweep their "wings" in a circle and leave a ring of fallen scales. Moving to the center, they will bury themselves in the black sand and wait. When prey blunders through this practically invisible circle, the Shockscale will start zapping! Caught between the source and the energy-hungry scales, the electricity will flow through you while it makes its journey! The power of this shock is enough to drop a full grown human, as it messes with your nervous system and muscles. If you watch prey get caught in this shock trap, you will see them suddenly convulse and drop to the ground. They will twitch and writhe as the energy flows through them, as falling over unfortunately causes one to absorb even more of this shock. In most cases, the prey is killed by this powerful effect, and the Shockscale will emerge to claim its meal. The urchin will crawl atop its prey and use its hidden mouth to devour them. While Shockscales tend to fry smaller creatures, they are quite opportunistic. Anything that wanders into their territory is fair game, and the hungrier they are, the more likely they are to take risks. Even if huge creatures stomp through their circle, they will still shock them despite the fact they know it won't kill them. This is more of a deterrent, as the Shockscale would prefer not to get stepped on. I imagine this sudden way to go is part of the reason this ecosystem is believed to be cursed. How else would you explain someone suddenly convulsing and then dropping dead? Demonic possession? A smiting from the gods? Or perhaps a hungry echinoderm...     In most cases, the Shockscale uses its scales to create this deadly perimeter for both offense and defense. Here it can lay in safety as it waits for food to arrive. However, there are some instances where the Shockscale will use its scales in a different pattern. When traveling, the urchin will be without its special circle. In this state, a predator may try to attack them, assuming the creature is without its usual defense. Since its takes time and precision to properly set up its trap, the Shockscale will be caught off guard. In some cases, it might just hunker down and rely on its own electric body for defense. Some have seen, however, times when the Shockscale "flees," which is odd because they don't move that fast. The urchin will try to run for its life, but the predator will have no trouble keeping up. Obviously, the beast will not jump right in and take a bite, as the urchin will just fry them. Most attackers would tend to hang back and wait for a vulnerable moment. Stalking behind the fleeing Shockscale, they will wait for the right moment to strike and then suddenly drop dead. Turns out, the Shockscale wasn't running. When they "retreat," they are actually dropping scales behind them as they move. They know that their abilities work by proximity, and most predators won't get close enough to zap. So by leaving a breadcrumb trail of scales, they are setting up a devious trap. The predator will be lured forward with the idea that they have the advantage, causing them to walk atop this line of scales. By releasing its energy, the lightening will chain itself through these scales and fry the attacker. Pretty clever! With this defense, there isn't much that can really mess with this species! The only predation I have witnessed so far was by a pack of Flab Rats, whose rubbery hides offer protection from most shocks. Even then, they have to be sure the Shockscale is dead before they take a bite! All the insulation in the world doesn't matter if you jam the lightening bolt into your mouth! Same goes for knives, you little monsters. Though they are quite dangerous, there is elegance to found in these incredible creatures! The beautiful wings are for more than just dropping scales, they actually use them for dance! When mating season comes around, the males will begin to wander the dunes. They do not seek a spot to congregate, rather they seem to move in different directions. I have heard that they are influenced by the sun, moon and stars, using them to guide their way, but I have not fully confirmed that. As they wander, they will let their wings out to the full span and spin around. There is some kind of pattern and design to this dance, as they thrash back and forth or twirl, but no one has truly decoded it. What we do know is that this moving ballet leaves behind something quite gorgeous! Their movements and wings create patterns in the obsidian sand, and their trail is formed from this delicate art! If you are walking the dunes during the breeding season, you will see entire swathes of the landscape turned into a magnificent canvas! These artistic trails are for the females, who are also moving about. When a female crawls over these paths, they can feel and detect its pattern. It seems they can learn a lot about the male from the art he leaves behind, and this will decide if he is worthy or not. If the design is lacking, she will move on, but if it is a masterpiece, she will follow it. Since she is not slowed by the need for dance, she will soon catch up with the twirling male and the two will undergo the next step of courtship. The trail he left behind was meant to get her in the door, now this part is how he gets her to stay! Together, the two shall dance and spin around each other, with the male seeking to impress and the female silently judging. The male must perform the right moves and hit the right timing to have a chance with her. If he bungles it, she will leave and search elsewhere. If he succeeds, the two will mate and part ways. She will go off to lay her eggs deep within the dunes, while he will continue his dance and search for other females. The thing that always gets me with this particular way for attracting mates is how delicate the whole process is. They are doing all this communication through sand art, despite the fact this landscape is ravaged by storms at an almost constant rate. A powerful gust of wind will easily erase all traces of this act, so how do they make it work? One solid theory is that Shockscales breed during seasons when the storms are at their slowest (which I think means they come every six minutes rather than five). This gives them longer times to let their art survive and catch attention, before it is blown away and they have to start over. Others say that the Shockscales also leave scented scales or pheromone along their trail, which the female can still follow if the patterns are erased. Whatever the reason, they somehow make it work! Though the Shockscales are not mentioned a lot by everyday folk, just like a lot of fauna from volcanic deserts, there is something about them that has made it to many shores. In many places, you can hear superstitions and creepy tales about a land covered in darkness and ravaged by the wrath of the gods. This place is almost like purgatory, covered in lava and black blades. What makes this place even creepier are the "symbols" and "runes" left by some unknown culture. Those who have entered this inhospitable land have mentioned grand designs etched into the dunes, patterns and symbols that are alien to many eyes and tongues. All of this, and yet not a single soul is seen! Despite this, the patterns are blown away, but then suddenly remade! How can this be?! Is there some kind of civilization hidden within this terrible world, writing these alien words in the sand? Or is it the result of spirits and demons, roaming the world of fire and lightening? Perhaps it is something more confusing and frightening. You see, these patterns can reach such amazing sizes and intricacy, yet you would struggle to fully appreciate it on the ground. A mural carved into the landscape can only be viewed in one way: from above! Are these symbols made for or by angels? Are they the markings of entities high above our heads? What do they stand for? What do they mean? There are many tales and theories about these bizarre patterns, and I have heard them all! Truly bewildering stuff! I have had people talk my ears off about these crazy conspiracies, and all I can think during these lectures is: "Is this what its like?" The real bummer of it all is that whenever I join in and add my theories, everyone gets all sour. They spin an endless yarn about symbols of angels and the writing of the gods, but then I offer the translation of "Heeeeey, ladies! Wanna dance?" and suddenly I'm the nut job. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian   ----------------------------------------------------- A creature design brainstormed between my friend @james-silvercat and me! I can't remember how we started on this, but at some point we were talking about my volcanic deserts and shingle urchins! Wound up being a really cool creature and a really cool design!  

#sea urchin #urchin #echinoderm #shingle urchin #monster #creature #art #drawing #desert #lightening

[interstellarflowers]

Professor Parker Ch. 1| Professor, Peter Parker x Student, Reader

a/n this fic doesn’t follow the marvel cinematic universe but assume that peter has been what he’s been through with the exception that tony lived, and bruce is still bruce, sorry but i just can't deal with endgame hulk/bruce rn emotionally or mentally. im sorry nat is still dead but dw i'll actually treat it with respect unlike endgame like goddamn where was her funeral, am i right? the stages of grief thing they did was interesting though. im sorry i digress, this is set in nyc (because heyo im a new yorka) and the avengers/stark tower is still a thing, peter is fucking traumatized and has turned kind of cold as a result. this fic may contain a smut chapter in the future? not sure yet, where this fic goes depends on the feedback, thanks for reading also sorry im not the proudest of this first chapter so ill probably edit it but promise itll only improve from here just not in the best mental state rn

University life wasn’t exactly everything that you imagined it to be. There was hardly time to do anything that people claimed was good about coming to university. The parties, the epic heartbreaks, and romances, they were just nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was nothing particularly extravagant about your experience thus far. You went to class, studied, and went to your internship. Your internship was probably the most exciting thing about your life at the moment, you were lucky to be accepted into the Stark Industries student internship, the company paid college tuition and only required around twenty hours of lab work a week, you couldn’t complain. Of course, the exciting part of the whole ordeal was the name attached to it, “Stark,” not that you had ever met him, but it was nice to have a unique feature like that in such an impressive student body.

So here you were on the first day of your third year of university. You lived off-campus, about a five-minute walk from the Stark Tower, but a twenty-minute subway ride to your campus. However, having an 882 square foot space to yourself was really nothing you could truly complain about despite the distance. The studio apartment being yet another benefit reaped from Stark Industries. Thank you Tony Stark, the unseen benevolent God in your life.

Typically you would start your mornings off quietly and in no rush, a shower, a cup of coffee, maybe some studying before heading off to your campus, but your phone had other plans for you today. Instead of your alarm going off like it was supposed to, you were woken up by the sound of a particularly loud car horn, and oh how grateful you were for that. As soon as you were jolted awake you shifted to grab your phone and turned it over to see an alarming 8:40am glaring back at you.

Holy shit. You were late.

You scrambled out of bed nearly face planting several times in your hurry to get dressed and only barely ran out the door with everything you needed at 8:47am.

By the time you managed to get to the subway and clamor onto the right train it was already 8:55am. Out of breath and panicking, you considered your options. You could explain after class, you could shoot an email, there were a plethora of things you could do but none of them seemed to justify being late as a third-year to a level 500 class. You had googled all of your professors while registering for classes as was common practice. You couldn’t find a RateMyProfessor on Professor...Parker? You were pretty sure it was Professor Parker, but you do remember seeing on the STEM department page that he was currently a Ph.D. student, so you could only hope that as a fellow student he would be at least a little understanding towards your lateness.

You stood outside of the lecture hall huffing and trying to catch your breath at 9:32am, psyching yourself up, you pushed open the door to the class and attempted to go unnoticed. The class was in a lecture hall despite being only composed of around thirty students, so if you were lucky maybe nobody would even see-

“Ms.(y/l/n), I presume?.” Shit.

“Professor Parker?” Shit.

“You are aware that class starts at 9am, and not 9:30am, would this be correct Ms.(y/l/n)?”

“Yes, Professor, it’s just that I had an emergency.” The lying route. Not exactly the highlight of your academic career.

“I regret to inform you that I only take valid excuses Ms.(y/l/n), please take a seat, and next time, don’t bother disrupting class halfway through the lesson.” Fuck. You mustered a quiet “ok,” and a small nod before escorting yourself to the back of the room, thirty-something eyes following you until you sat down.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the class, it was just too embarrassing, time moved forward but you couldn’t help but be stuck on what had just happened. For the first ten minutes after sitting down you felt like dropping out of the whole class out of sheer fucking humiliation. This was of course before you reminded yourself that this class was a requirement to graduate in your field of study. You quietly bargained with yourself before sighing quietly and settling on the conclusion that Professor Parker was just a dick. A dick who certainly didn’t deserve the satisfaction of you switching out of his class. If he wanted to be like that, you decided, you would simply return the favor.

“I know, Ms.(y/ln), why don’t you tell us DeBroglie’s equation?”

“With pleasure, Professor Parker.” Yeah, you’d return the favor alright.

“Ms.(y/l/n), you stay.” Fuck that. You looked the other way and feigned ignorance as you kept making your way towards the door. About to leave, the door shut on your face.

“What the fuck!” You jumped before turning around and you felt your face heat up.

“Ms.(y/l/n), please refrain from using profanities in my classroom.”

“I’m sorry Professor Parker. I was just startled.”

“Mhm,” he took his glasses off and laid them on his desk, “Just don’t do it in the future Ms.(y/l/n).”

“Of course. My name is (y/n), by the way, Professor Parker, you can just call me that, actually, I prefer that people refer to me by (y/n).”

“Rest assured, I’m aware of your name, Ms.(y/l/n). My name is Peter, but you can continue to call me Professor Parker.” You could have sworn that you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He knew what he was fucking doing, asshole. You held back from rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

“Of course, Professor Parker.”

“As you know, Ms.(y/l/n), I did request that you stay after class.”

“Oh? I sincerely apologize Professor Parker, I really didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sure, Ms.(y/l/n).” Fucking. Dick.

“Well, what exactly did you want Professor Parker? I do have another class soon.” Professor Parker narrowed his eyes at you in obvious distaste before reaching behind himself into a bin underneath his desk and pulling out a stack of papers,

“These are the handouts you missed from the beginning of the class. Textbook requirements, syllabus...Crucial information to have if you care to succeed in my class Ms.(y/l/n).” So coldly, so maliciously, Professor Parker placed the stack into your arms.

“I take my work very seriously, Ms.(y/l/n), I do my part as your professor so I only have the simple request that my students do the same.” You nodded feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course, Professor Parker, it won’t happen again,” you said with a tightlipped smile.

“Mhm,” Professor Parker turned around and began shuffling around some paper and without giving you a second glance said, “You are dismissed.” You nodded and hurriedly made your way out of his classroom. Of course, you had lied. You didn’t have another class until late in the afternoon. So you called your coworker instead,

“Hey, Harvey.”

“(y/n).”

“Wow, okay, don’t get too excited.”

“Sorry, just woke up.”

“Tsk, the early bird gets the worm, Harvey.”

“I don’t want a worm.”

“Fuck you. I’m headed to the lab, can I expect you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You had been working with Harvey for around four years now, he was quite the impressive specimen, having attended MIT and graduating Summa Cum Laude at age 20 was no easy feat, he was closer to Tony Stark than you would ever get, he was quite personable, and you couldn’t deny that he was quite good looking. You’d never tell him that though, he didn’t need another ego boost. Besides, you had some connections of your own.

“Hey, (y/n).”

“Banner!”

“Can we expect Harvey today?”

“Honestly, not sure.” You both knowingly smiled at each other before you made your way over to what he was working on,

“Do you ever get bored here?”

“With you and the other idiot always running around? How could I?” You laughed,

“No, seriously, like wouldn’t you rather be doing nerd shit with Tony or something? Isn’t it a little tiresome babysitting us?”

“Tiring? Maybe sometimes, but not nearly as tiring as doing ‘nerd shit’ with Tony. He’s exhausting,” Bruce smiled at his own joke, “I don’t mind playing babysitter at all kid.” He fiddled with the handle of a mug that read, “Don’t be so Na Cl,” which you had gotten him a year back as a joke, but he still used it.

You really loved Bruce for all he was. Since losing your family back in 2012 during the battle in NYC, you didn’t really have any familial figures. But since landing this internship you found yourself with a parental figure again, and you would never be able to put into words how much it meant to you, so you didn’t. Besides, you didn’t want him to feel pressured about it, especially after everything he had been through himself. Frying half your body and losing the love of your life in such a short span of time was really nothing less than horrifying. Yet, here he was, smiling, laughing...You loved him for it.

“First day of junior year? How was that?”

“Shit.”

“Huh?” Bruce stopped tinkering with the device in his hands and looked over at you, “I’ve never heard of a course being too hard for (y/n) (y/l/n), what is it? Aerospace? Quantum?”

“No, just one giant dick.”

“Pardon-”

“My professor, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“Ah, I see. If he’s really harassing you (y/n), I don’t mean to overstep, I really think we should alert administration, what’s his name?” Bruce took a sip of his coffee.

“Professor Parker,” Bruce choked on his coffee, “Oh my God, Bruce, are you okay?”

“Yeah-” he said, still coughing, “Just a little too strong.”

“Okay, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bruce caught his breath, “What did he do kid?”

“He’s just a dick that’s all.”

“You sure you don’t want me to do something about it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I don’t know what you could do anyways. Thank you though.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised.”

Sitting at your desk stressing over school work at 3am, it was nothing out of the ordinary for you. Everything appeared ordinary. The ordinary cup of tea, the familiar glow of your computer, and a morning chill creeping through your window. It was all so breathtakingly normal until there was a rap on your window. You took an earbud out of your ear, certain you were just hearing things, you looked to your window. Holy shit.

You opened your window wide so that he could crawl in.

“(y/n)?”

“Mr.Spiderman.” Still too in shock to fully process the situation you started to take in the scene in front of you,

“Please, it’s just Spiderman.”

“Oh-Oh my God, what happened?” Head to toe the suit seemed to have blood seeping through, tears in the body of the suit revealed gashes and a bullet wound.

“Bad guys. I know this guy-said he knew a medical student close by, you are (y/n)? Right?”

“Y-Yeah, but I’m really just a student, I’m not really a prof-”

“This guy, he said you might as well be.”

“I don’t know Mr.Spiderman, really, maybe I could take you to the hospital though.”

“-Spiderman, it’s just Spiderman, listen, (y/n), you know I can’t go to a hospital, it would ruin this whole secret identity thing I got going on here, and this guy, he’s probably the smartest guy I know, so if he says you can handle it, you can.” You swallowed and nodded,

“Yeah-” you wring your hands together, “Yeah-Sorry, let me go get my first aid kit.”

#tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #bruce banner #tony stark #iron man #idk #sorry #ill prolly rewrite this seven times

[azure-steel]

Starter for @the-expatriate​

If there was one place he would rather not be, Wallmarket was certainly it. Such a vile little cesspit in the midst of Midgar’s cluster of undercities, and Cloud was still feeling the bitter aftertaste of his last visit to this place. A memory he would much rather forget, sooner rather than later. 

But beggars couldn’t be choosers in his line of work, and the commission rate here was so high even he knew he’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to make some easy gil. Tifa had mentioned that making connections to secure contracts was the best way to go if he wanted to make a go at this soldier of fortune gig, but doing that and maintaining a low profile was proving a task in itself. 

There were so many eyes in this section of the slums, and attached to those eyes would be mouths weaving their rumours and ears in which to listen; word certainly spread fast here in Midgar. Easier said than done was it to hide in plain sight of the overlords topside - only the gods would know the price on his head though this was a notion Strife had trained himself to store in the very archives of his mind. 

Needless to say, at the root of it all, he had much bigger fish to fry than worry about a few ShinRa grunts out for a moral boost and a possible pat on the head from the president himself. 

Tonight, however, he was mostly left to wander the streets, packed to the brim with party goers and people seeking cheap thrills in one form... or another; certainly not the sort of entertainment the merc was particularly interested in. Weary feet had guided him towards a certain club hidden beneath the rabble of merchandise stalls and street food vendors and not quite ready to retire to his dingy little room rented in a seedy hotel on the outskirts, why not treat himself to a drink or three? 

Lucky enough for him there didn’t seem to be anybody on shift that evening who recognised him; greeted with a forced smile gifted by the tender of the doorway does he enter the foyer. And there he stands at the greeters pedestal waiting to be seated and indulge in whatever distraction this place could offer, and preferably from the darkest corner they had available. 

#the-expatriate #{Thread - TBD} #Hope this is alright #let me know if you need me to change anything :)

[stillebesat]

Meeting Virgil (5x1) -First Time

December Drabbles Day 16  Sanders Shorts: Remy  Sanders Sides: Virgil  Blurb: A Special Delivery Prequel. -Five times Remy tried to give Virgil a child and the one time he succeeded.  Inspiration: @book-of-charlie​ asked: What did Virgil mean by "the last 5 times?" Fic Type: STORK!AU, Winged!Remy Fic Warnings: Bad Parenting implications, Injury, Hitting  Taglist in Reblog. 

The baby girl stirred in Remy’s arms just as the bright lights of good old NYC came into view. “Shh. Shh, little one.” He soothed, brushing her tiny cheek with a single finger, leaving the faintest of traces of dark green dust behind that would ensure that she would drift back into whatever dreams a newborn could have. “We’re almost there.” 

It had been a long night of flying for the both of them, though Remy had been doing all the work with his wings, having flown over three major storm cells in his cross country journey from West Coast to East. 

You couldn’t argue with the Parent Line though. 

Remy glanced to the brightly glowing purple ribbon of light he’d chosen to follow out of the half dozen that had been presented to him when he’d taken the baby girl from the hot car she’d purposely been left in and tilted his wings, adjusting his flight path to take him deeper into the city. 

Always choose the brightest. That was what he’d been told to do when multiple ribbons appeared in his vision. Not that any of the choices were bad per se, but the brighter the colored ribbon, the more easily the parents could integrate the child into their lives and that was what was needed. A smooth transition. 

Far smoother than most of the others. Remy let out a low whistle, wings fluttering as his weaving through the city led him to one of the skyscrapers that housed the richer millionaire type of people. “Well look who lucked out.” He mumbled, pushing his sunglasses onto his head as he landed gracefully on a balcony halfway up the south side. 

A richy. That was...different. Usually the fools were too obsessed over making money and buying their next fancy jet or island to want to deal with children, especially newborns. It just didn’t...fit. 

Remy frowned, adjusting the baby in his arms, his wings curling around them to block out the wind so she wouldn’t get cold as he double checked that the purple ribbon was leading him inside.

It was.

“Huh.” The word left his lips involuntarily as he moved to the sliding glass door, the latch unlocking at his touch so he could slip inside the darkened room. Maybe she wasn’t going to the millionaire but to their maid or butler instead. That would make far more sens--

WHAM.

Remy staggered as something cold and definitely made of heavy metal hit the side of his face. His sunglasses flew off, landing somewhere to his left as he whirled to the source, wing raising in time to block the frying pan swinging again for his head. “WATCH THE BABY!” He screeched at his unknown assailant as he desperately tried to blink the stars from his eyes. 

Geez. And he’d thought seeing stars was a myth. 

The shadowy figure froze. “Lights.” A man said in a low voice.

Remy hissed, ducking his aching head as the room flooded with light, blinding him. His wings automatically folded in over him to protect his poor eyes, but also so he could check on the baby girl. 

If this idiot had harmed her---

But no. The tightness in his chest eased to see her still sleeping soundly. Good. The dust had helped to keep her asleep despite the noise. 

He looked up, wings pulling back as he straightened to glare at the man in a black hoodie with dark eyeshadow under his eyes like a freaking raccoon standing before him with a  frying pan held in his hands. “Geez Rapunzel. You’re lucky you didn’t hurt her!” 

The man bared his teeth, a hiss coming from his lips, though his grey storm colored eyes anxiously checked the bundle in Remy’s arms. “What sort of idiot brings a baby to a break-in?” He demanded.

Remy scoffed, taking a slow step backwards to get out of range of the ‘weapon,’ holding his charge protectively. “Gurl! Me? Break in--out of the two of us--” He gestured with one wing to his brown leather jacket and jeans, wondering why no one else had come to investigate the commotion yet. “Which of us looks more like a robber? Cus it certainly ain’t me, Sugarbee.” 

The man glanced down to his clothes and smirked before he surged forward, pressing the edge of the frying pan against Remy’s throat before he could blink. “I’m the one who lives here, Flynn Rider.” He growled, stormy eyes glittering. “I can dress however the blazes I want and no freaking glowing green-eyed Angel is going to tell me how to dress.” 

Angel?

Remy froze, swallowing as the cold metal pressed against his throat. Impossible. Adults shouldn’t be able to-- “You can see my wings?” He asked carefully, ignoring the comment about his eyes. He already knew people were offset by the metallic quality they held, but it came with being a S.T.O.R.K. along with the wings.

“Well…yah?” The man frowned, grey eyes flicking to them, the baby and then back to Remy himself. “I mean you’re no Mothman, that’s for sure, they're more polite.” 

No Mothman? The man spoke like he’d met one. That wasn’t--they didn’t exist! It shou--who was this guy?! His wings spread out, puffing up. “But that’s---you shouldn’t!”

The man raised his eyebrows, taking a step back. “Why shouldn’t I be able to see them? They’re rather hard to miss.” He gestured to the wings with his makeshift weapon. “All white and huge.” 

“Because you’re not---” Remy cut off, abruptly realizing where exactly the purple ribbon in the room led. “Oh Jiminy Crickets.” He breathed as he made the connection.  “You are.” It still didn’t explain how his wings were visible to this guy, but--

The man tensed, fingers going white on the handle. “I’m what?” 

Remy relaxed, wings snapping shut. It was unusual, yes, but there were no other ribbons drifting through the apartment. Meaning that the Emo Nightmare before him was the only person here. A single father. Unusual, but not uncommon. “You ever hear of a S.T.O.R.K?” He asked, moving a step closer, brushing the sleeping baby girl’s cheek with a finger. 

“The regular bird, or the legends about how babies--” The man inhaled sharply, going pale as the frying pan slipped from his fingers to clatter to the floor. 

Remy smirked. Looked like Rapunzel could piece the puzzle together on his own. “Still wondering why I’m here in your apartment with a baby?” 

If anything the soon-to-be Father got paler, stumbling back a step. “I can’t!” His voice cracked.

Yah, Remy had heard similar exclamations with other deliveries he’d made. “Of course you can.” He said, carefully holding the little girl out to him. He wouldn’t be here if the young man wouldn’t be a good Dad. “You already have a Father’s protective instinct down.” 

If he didn’t end up with half his face black and blue in the morning, Remy would be very surprised. “You’ll be fine.” 

“But she’s a tiny baby! What if I hurt--no.” The young man violently shook his head, vaulting over the back of the black couch to put a blockade between him and Remy, crossing his arms in front of him as a feeble blockade. “No. No, I can’t take her! I’m not a good dad. I won’t be--I can’t!” 

Denial too was to be expected. It isn’t always easy to comprehend that you’re suddenly a parent. Though no new Dad had reacted quite like this before. “You’ll be fine.” Remy soothed. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I don’t make mistakes.” No S.T.O.R.K. did. “Here.” Again he held her out. “Just hold her and you’ll see.” 

The familial bond could only be made once the parents, or in this case, parent held the child in his arms. Not before. But once he did. Flynn Rider here would be fine. He’d be a great Dad.  

 Edgelord shuddered, closing his eyes as he turned away, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “No. Please. No. I can’t. I can’t. I CAN’T! She deserves better. Please.” 

Please.

The purple ribbon fizzled out, vanishing before Remy’s eyes only for a bright pink ribbon to suddenly flash into view, leading out and away from the apartment. 

What the what?! Remy pulled the child close to his chest, rocking her as she stirred, whimpering in her sleep. The ribbon had just--that had never happened before! EVER. Once a S.T.O.R.K. chose a ribbon, then the child would go to that family. No question. And now--suddenly--Remy swallowed, slowly shaking his head, his wings half spreading, fluttering in his confusion. 

He didn’t get it. But if the man felt that strongly, so strongly to change the ribbon’s color-- 

”Alright. Hey. Hey. Gurl, it’s alright. You don’t have to say yes.” It was unusual. Actually, all of this was just plain weird. No one ever refused a S.T.O.R.K. once they were chosen. “I can take her to another.” 

The man refused to turn around. “Then do it.” He choked out. “Go.” 

Remy frowned, but didn’t argue, scooping up his sunglasses as he moved to the open balcony door. He needed to get the baby girl to this family of this new glowing pink parent line before the sun rose. 

Still, he paused on the threshold, looking over his shoulder to the man in black. “I do stand by what I said though.” He slipped outside, spreading his wings. “You will make a great Dad.”  He called as he took a running leap, jumping off the balcony to soar up into the night sky, following the new ribbon’s trail northeast towards Boston. 

Remy set his jaw, holding the babe close to his chest as he climbed. He just needed to find the right child to prove it.

To Be Continued Second Time

#Meeting Virgil #STORK AU #December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Remy #Virgil #Sleep #Anxiety #Winged!Remy #bad parenting implications tw #hitting tw #injury tw #December Day 16

[asterkiss]

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” Mabill, please. 😊

Zombie AU, anyone? 

- VULNERABILITY

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

Mable Pines evaded another flesh-hungry zombie as she ran through the abandoned streets of Gravity Falls. A lot can change in a couple of days, and having a zombie apocalypse explode out of nowhere certainly changed a lot.

For one thing, she was currently all alone.

Wendy was currently incapacitated back at the Shack with two broken legs (long story); Dipper had been unfortunately kidnapped by a cult (an even longer story); and to top it all off their newfound ally Bill Cipher was fucking dead. 

She’d probably need several hours to explain that last part.

But to give the short version:-

It had only been a couple of months since the demon had taken on a human vessel and shenanigans had ensued between him and their family. A lot had transpired but to cut to the eventuality of it all, Mabel had actually grown close to the demon and considered him sort of, well, a friend.

(But that was it. Just a friend. Nothing more―no matter what he might suggest otherwise).

Despite that, even until the end Mable found herself continuing to question whether he really had changed. 

Apparently his way of proving that was to throw himself into a hoard of zombies so that she could escape unharmed.

Talk about making a point, huh?

(But seriously she was very upset about it).

Using her grappling hook, Mable equipped the ever useful device to scale the  building of an abandoned warehouse. Breaking an already cracked window, she climbed inside. Mable had the feeling people wouldn’t be bothered too much by her trespassing when there were bigger fish to fry in town right now.

Her reason for coming here to begin with was because she had bumped into Tambry who had apparently caught size of a group fitting the description of Dipper’s kidnappers visiting this place yesterday morning. 

So it was, Mable cautiously searched the abandoned warehouse, eventually making her way up a flight of stairs and into a room that oversaw the entire building. There didn’t seem to be any sign of Dipper, only remnants of abandoned supplies and machinery. 

Her foot tapped against something and she lowered her flashlight only to gasp at the sight of a body. Unfortunately, this was only one of many she had seen in the past couple of days. He didn’t even look that old either as he stared ahead vacantly.

Mable paid him a small blessing in her mind as she turned to continue searching.

Except something then grabbed her foot.

Ah.

Dropping her head down she found the dead body suddenly wasn’t so “dead” anymore as the light haired corpse groaned into movement whilst its cold fingers grasped at her ankle. Oh hell no. Mable quickly yanked her foot free and backed away, rushing for another door that lead out onto the walkway.

Luck was not on her side however as Mable flung the door open only to find another zombie stood loitering outside, its head hanging to one side. This one was older, probably a middle-aged gentleman as it turned its head to regard her arrival, eyes alighting with hunger.

Oh crap.

She retreated away from the door, peering behind her to find the first zombie was now standing. That way was blocked. Her head snapped back around as the older one lurched forward too close for comfort. She quickly held out her grappling hook and released it, the metal portion firing and hitting it square in the chest which caused it it to stumble. Score.

Mable turned on her heel only to freeze at the sight of shot gun directed her way. Her eyes wandered past the barrel of the gun and towards the individual holding it only for her gaze to land on none other than the zombie itself. Wait, what? 

The gun fired and she flinched as the shot rang out loudly throughout the room and building. When she turned her head, she found the other zombie directly behind her, apparently having recovered from her attack. What it couldn’t recover from however was the the fresh bullet hole in its skull as it slowly toppled over onto the floor. Dead for good this time. 

When she peered back cautiously towards the other undead in the room and met its gaze, its lips slowly stretched into a lazy grin.

‘Sup.’

‘Wha― Wait, Billl!?’

‘In the flesh,’ he shot back with a laugh, tapping his chest as he lowered the weapon. ‘This flesh to be more precise.’

‘Oh my god are you possessing a dead body right now?’ she cried, regarding him ludicrously. 

‘Well yeah, my old vessel got torn to pieces by those rabid cannibals―you’re welcome for that by the way―so I decided to shop around for something fresher. Lucky me, I found this one right by ya.’

‘You have part of your throat missing.’

‘I’ll hide it with a scarf.’

‘And I can see part of your intestines hanging out.’

'That can be patched up,’ he replied breezily, clearly having no qualms about his actions. 

Mable sighed as she regarded his new "form”. The body he inhabited couldn’t have been dead for that long as it still had some colour left in it and didn’t stink yet. Also, whilst it pained her to admit it, had this body been alive and intact its definitely a guy she would have considered hot. So in a way she was thankful he had part of his organs hanging out, it sobered her up and made her less inclined to think Bill was attractive.

‘See something you like?’ he asked, wiggling his eyebrows as she continued to stare.

Mable rolled her eyes. ‘That’s creepy coming from a dead body.’

‘Would you rather I possess a living one?’

‘Why do you have to possess anybody at all?’ she protested. ‘Are you really that desperate to cause drama, even during a zombie apocalypse?’

He frowned. ‘That’s not why I’m back.’

‘Oh yeah?’ she gave him a flat look, clearly in disbelief.

‘It’s true!’ he retorted. ‘Hand on my― well, this guy’s heart!’

When she continued to side-eye him, Bill released an aggravated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. ‘Urgh, you never make things easy. You’re seriously gonna make me be honest and crap? I hate that stuff.’

‘Yeah, how awful,’ she deadpanned.

He released a grumble, looking very much uncomfortable as he muttered something.

‘What?’

‘...d... ou....’

‘You seriously need to speak up dude, I can’t hear a thing.’

‘I’m fond of you!’ he snapped, eyes flashing as he pinned with a glare. ‘There, I said it. Are you happy!?’

Mable blinked in surprise at his admission. Well that she certainly hadn’t expected. She could tell he was uncomfortable at his own words and though she wanted to make a witty comment or joke, the girl knew that wouldn’t be fair to the demon who had clearly displayed some vulnerability to confess such a thing.

‘Really?’ she asked.

‘I just said so, didn’t I?’ he huffed, folding his arms. ‘Why else do you think I scarified my old vessel to rescue you? I’ve no idea what I’d do if I lost you.’

Oh wow. Mable felt her heart actually skip a beat and quickly reminded herself that this was still Bill even if he was saying the first sweet thing in probably centuries.

‘You like me,’ she stated, feeling the words on her own tongue. It felt nice to say them. Slightly funny, even. 

Bill grumbled some words, refusing to look her way. Was he embarrassed? Seriously? 

'Well, I like you too,’ she admitted, feeling she could show a little vulnerability in front of him if he was. His gaze wandered in her direction, a look of suspicion lacing his expression. 

‘You do?’

‘Yeah. I don’t really know why,’ she added, offering a wry smile. ‘But I was upset when you died so I’m kinda happy to see you again.’ Even if it was by possessing a dead body during these drastic times.

Mable could have sworn she saw the hints of a genuine smile beginning to form on his face at her admission, only for it to be quickly dampened as he unfolded his arms and straightened up. ‘Hmph, well luckily for you the main hero has returned to this mess of a show.’

‘Oh yeah?’ She watched as he tucked away his true feelings behind a facade once more. Looks like feelings time was over. And she was okay with that. It made her feel weird too. They could go back to being snark and comfortable.

‘Yep. So let’s go and save your dumb brother, for if my name ain’t Bill Cipher! All powerful and omnipotent demon, destroyer of dreams! Mwahahaha!!!’

‘Hey, Mr Destroyer of Dreams, you dropped one of your kidneys.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘Blehh, that’s so gross. I think I might seriously throw up.’

‘It’s fine, I’ll shove it back in! No harm done. See?’

‘No, keep it away from me! Bill!!’

#mabill #bill x mabel #mabel x bill #gravity falls #drabble

[inkslingersworld]

Crowbar 2 (Power Couple)

Hey guys! This is my second work for Adrigami Week, following the “Power Couple” prompt. I was originally going to write this following its own self-contained storyline, but after finishing Crowbar for Adrigami Week’s “Alternate Meeting” prompt, I realized the story that I’d started there hadn’t really finished. So, with that, I bring you Crowbar 2! Happy reading! (Contains some profanity)

As they trekked into the evening, Kagami learned some things about her new companion, Adrien:

He was very talkative and sociable, providing information about himself without Kagami having to ask any questions.

He was respectful and attentive; even though he did virtually all of the talking, Adrien seemed genuinely interested in Kagami, and asked her questions about herself despite Kagami refusing to answer.

Adrien not only remembered how to read, write, and tell time thanks to his diary. While they were walking, he told Kagami that he remembered how to cook certain recipes, mimic the sounds of different songbirds, tie his shoes, and give himself a haircut. Kagami was envious - although she didn’t hate her long hair, it was excruciatingly uncomfortable during the summer months.

He relished bad jokes. The only reason that Kagami had laughed at his doctor joke was because it hadn’t made an ounce of sense. 

His backpack contained several helpful items: some food, cookware, extra clothes, a flashlight, batteries, matches, night vision goggles (Kagami nearly squealed in delight at the sight of those), binoculars, a hatchet (Adrien said he only used it for chopping wood), toiletries, sleeping bags, and a tent. 

Adrien would occasionally gaze at her for enlengthened periods of time, but always looks away upon realizing that Kagami noticed.

The duo had reached a lazy river by the time the stars appeared. Adrien gave an overdramatic yawn and smacked his lips.

“Well, no point in trying to cross it this late. I say I make us some dinner and we camp here for the night.”

“I think we should keep going,” Kagami disagreed.

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“We’re too exposed,” said Kagami. “This location’s too out in the open; settling here makes us an easy target.”

“For who?” Adrien asked.

“For anyone! Not everybody’s as accepting as you and I are, Adrien!”

“Kagami, come on. We’ve walked at least ten miles, and we haven’t seen a soul. I think we’ll be safe.”

“We’ve walked at least ten what?” asked Kagami.

“Miles. They’re units of distance. I can teach you about them after dinner.”

“We have to keep moving!” Kagami objected. “Even if we weren’t in imminent danger in this spot, my memory is! My memory resets whenever I fall asleep!”

A brief silence followed this information, during which Adrien looked confused and downtrodden. However, his face brightened up soon after.

“I know!” he said eagerly, removing his backpack and unzipping it. “You can start your own diary! That way, you can record everything that transpired during the day!”

He unearthed a journal similar to his own and tossed it to Kagami. She turned it over in her hands.

“This still doesn’t counteract outside threats,” she said seriously.

Adrien groaned. “Kagami, just trust me on this. Nothing bad is going to happen while we’re at this riverbank!”

Kagami’s eyes widened. “You jinxed it.”

“Kagami, please -”

“You jinxed it!” she cried exasperatedly. “Now something bad’s definitely going to happen!”

After a brief pause, Adrien said, “If that’s the case, don’t you at least want it to happen after you’ve eaten?”

“You know what?” said Kagami, giving up. “Fine. Let’s see how good you are at cooking, Adrien.”

Adrien beamed. “You won’t be disappointed.”

In no time, Adrien had gotten out his cooking equipment and started mixing ingredients. 

“What are you making?” Kagami asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“French onion soup,” responded Adrien. “I’m afraid we only get a serving each. Don’t be too disappointed when you crave seconds.”

He winked at her; Kagami felt her face warming up and pointedly looked away. 

She was later thankful she did, or else she might’ve never spotted the tips of someone’s fingers withdraw from around a solitary tree.

“Adrien!” she whisper-shouted.

“I’ve only just started, it won’t be ready for another half hour,” he complained.

“No - there’s someone here!” she hissed, eye-pointing at the tree.

Adrien turned to stare at the tree and shrugged. “Looks fine to me.”

Of course, that was the moment when the hooded figure jumped from the shadows and punched Adrien in the jaw.

Kagami reacted quickly, springing to her feet and waving her crowbar in the intruder’s direction, making them jump back. They sprinted headfirst at Kagami, grabbing her by the wrist and slamming her to the ground. Kagami rebounded by curling her foot around her opponent’s ankle and sending them crashing into the cooking equipment. Adrien let out a moan of despair.

“Guys, you’re making a mess!” he shouted. “Can’t we set our differences aside and just talk it out?”

“There is no talking it out!” yelled Kagami, who was trapped in a headlock. “I could really use your help right now, Adrien!”

Adrien grabbed the closest object within reach (a frying pan) and took a swing at the opponent. The hooded figure released Kagami and backflipped out of the way of the pan. 

Kagami retrieved her crowbar from the ground and tried to ram it into the intruder’s shoulder, but he swiped left and took a jab at her ribcage. Adrien flung himself on top of the intruder’s arm, effectively keeping Kagami’s ribcage intact, and kicked the intruder in the stomach, sending the hooded figure reeling back in agony. Kagami seized the moment of the intruder’s distraction to grip Adrien’s pan and slam it as hard as she could onto the intruder’s foot.

The intruder made no reaction to the impact of a frying pan on their foot.

“The hell?!” Kagami vented. “What type of boots is this guy wearing?!”

She soon found out; the intruder accomplished an acrobatic spin into the air and landed a kick across Kagami’s face. It felt like someone had thrown a brick at her. 

For a moment, all Kagami could focus on was the immense pain. Feeling her cheekbone, she deciphered that nothing was broken, but the blow had certainly drawn blood, as she examined her hand stained liquid red. Kagami was brought back to reality by the force of the intruder toppling into her.

“Sorry!” apologized Adrien, evidently having caused the intruder to collide with Kagami.

The intruder got up quickly, but instead of going for Adrien or Kagami, he dashed towards Adrien’s backpack. Realization dawned on Kagami - this person was here for their stuff.

“Hey! That’s mine!” exclaimed Adrien, rushing at the intruder as they grabbed his packpack and made a mad dash for the river.

Adrien was able to tackle the intruder before he got to the water’s edge. Kagami ran over to join the wrestling figures on the ground. She lifted the intruder to his feet by the crook of his neck, allowing Adrien to reclaim his backpack, and shoved the hooded figure as hard as she could into the river.

The river was deeper than Kagami had assumed, and neither she nor Adrien saw him for a few seconds, but then they spotted him further along the bank, being carried downstream by the powerful current. Within ten seconds, the attacker had disappeared from view.

“Who was that?” Adrien asked, sounding out of breath. 

“A bandit,” replied Kagami shortly. “Someone looking to get lucky from robbing anybody they find. There are tons of them.”

After a temporary silence, Adrien said, “That was scary.”

“Well, it’s over now,” said Kagami comfortingly, giving Adrien a pat on the back.

“I’ve never fought anyone before,” admitted Adrien, picking up some of the cooking equipment.

“You did decently well for your first time.”

Adrien gave Kagami a half-smile. “Thanks.”

It took a long time for Adrien to clean the cooking materials and fix dinner - since the French onion soup had been lost in the scuffle, they ate tamales instead. 

“You know,” Kagami munched, “these are actually incredible. You’ve got a gift, Adrien.”

Adrien smiled broadly for the rest of the meal.

\\\\\

@adrigamiweek

#inkslingersworld #miraculous #adrien #kagami #adrigami #adrigamiweek2021 #adrigamiweek #power couple #french onion soup #tamales

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Concept: RED Spy is down, his watch damaged and the knife blasted from his hand by a clever strike from a BLU. His ribs ache from the force of being hurled bodily into the unforgiving soil of Teufort’s rocky ground, and he grits his teeth into a snarl. 

He can fight without his knife, he lived this long as a Spy prior to this whole mess of a contract... but it would not be easy. His ankle feels damaged, twisting as he rolled and Spy curses at the misfortune; still, his arms were hale enough to enact a chokehold when the opportunity arose. 

The sun disappears as looming shadows block the light, and hearty chuckles linger in the air, the malice behind the sound sending a shudder through the espionage agent. He understood, this was... well, it was personal to a degree, if he had a downed BLU then of course he would think nothing of enacting some quick revenge for a past death/insult.

But it was also their job. He hoped to take at least one down with him, if possible... but it would not be the end of the world to die here and now, later he could hunt them down and delight in the gurgled screams as his butterfly knife pierced their spinal columns. 

Blood dribbled slowly from the shallow indentations in his bottom lip wheren a few teeth had pierced accidentally during the heavy impact. Spy’s tongue darted out automatically to catch it, equally thrilled and revolted by the taste of the coppery substance... 

He grunts as a heavy Texan boot digs into his side, and two voices laugh uproariously as if the world’s wittiest joke had just been exchanged. They would pay for tha-...

His vision flashes sharply a second later, pain radiating through his face like an explosion as a steel-capped boot makes contact; without even consciously registering it, Spy knows his nose is broken. That was a sensation he had become all too familiar with in the past. 

He cries out as something heavy crunches down on his legs, efectively trapping him. 

“Aw, don’t be such a wuss Spah, I manage to carry that around when it’s full all’a the time!” the BLU engineer coos, his expression worryingly unhinged, though not unfamiliar... the RED Engineer had made the same face a truly disconcerting number of times in the past. 

Indeed, the toolbox weighed more than one would suspect, and if his ankle had not been shattered before, it certainly was now. There was only one solution, if he could but find it... where was his-...? 

“Oh laddie, don’t go looking for your pretty little pistol... our spook went and knicked that when ye blacked out for a second, like the delicate little crossaint ye are.” BLU Demo taunted, crouching down over the RED. 

Spy did not recall blacking out, but that’s not generally a good sign...

“You are, as ever, outclassed here, mon frier.” came a smug voice so like his own that it irritated to no end, as the BLU Spy faded into visibility.

If this had been the first death of the day, or even the twelfth, then perhaps he would not have stopped trying to find a solution. Beady blue eyes darting subtly around until some ingenious escape plan came to light and he could be freed from this mess...

But it wasn’t, and he was so, so very tired. Between the Pyro, Sniper and a number of rather lucky swipes from the BLU Medic, Spy had been dying all day long. He would love for this to end quickly... but given the location, and the unlikelihood of help arriving in time to curb the enthusiasm of the currently losing team surrounding him... Spy felt that things were not in his favour this day.

Hovering gently across the room, the intel gleamed innocuously, cruelly. A beacon that lured them all to their deaths day in, day out on these damn capture the flag campaigns; a beloved sight for both the teams’ benefactors. 

And so they died, day after day, for nothing more than a glowing briefcase with an ever-changing array of useless paper inside. Why, last week there had been a recipe for some fried chicken with eleven herbs and spices... useless, though Engineer had been eager to try it, as had another fried chicken afficiando on the team. 

The week before? A number of magazines, a short story about some science fiction show he was certain may have been written by one of the Pyros, and a crudely drawn map to different households that Spy could not make heads or tails of...

A slap snapped him back to reality, sending fresh waves of sizzling pain through his face as the damage to his nose once again took his full focus. 

“Looks as if he’s back with us again.” BLU Spy said, radiating smugness from every pore as he flicked out his knife with unnecessary flourishes. “Good evening Monsieur, seeing as you will be staying with us for some time, I would hope you will be an obbliging guest... and not miss out on the festivities. Such as,” he said, pointing the blade directly at a blue pupil, “when I remove your eye from its socket, hmmm?”

“Hey, I called dibs on ‘im first boyo.” BLU Demo exclaims, swatting at the blade-wielding hand, and trying not to look too pleased as it scored a deep groove across Spy’s face. Spy hisses at him through clenched teeth, loathing the man. “He needs those eyes to see what ol’ eyelander and I are gonna do tae him, aye?” 

“Just don’t go hogging him, I’ve had to rebuild a dozen sentries today because of him. Not to mention my back’s achin’ somethin’ fierce from all the damn backstabbing the little red weasel’s gotten away with.” BLU Engie interjected, groaning as he stretched, fingers and spine making awful audible pops. The man flexed his gloved hand and the mechanical whirring sent chill straight down the Spy’s spine. “Now see, I’m thinkin’ that fair’s fair only if’n I get to pull yours right on out of that body of yours. Whatcha think about that, you filthy RED?”

It would technically fall under ‘fair’, but not anything Spy particularly wanted to experience. Before he could open his mouth in his own defence, with a smooth ‘Gentlemen, please...’ the mechanical fist slammed in from the side. Bile rose automatically in his throat at the sensation of a tooth dislodging and blood filling his mouth. The BLUs seemed wildly unhinged today, beyond their normal bloodlust... but they had lost all week long, so they may be getting sanctions and penalties from the Administrator.

His head whirled. When was the last time he’d had more than a few hours sleep this week? The last time he drank some actual water or ate something substantial? Maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d not insisted on skipping the team lunch during ceasefire, in order to do some covert surveillance in the enemy intel. 

Consciousness flickered. 

There were delighted but angry voices jabbering back and forth about ‘waiting their turn’, and ‘going a little easy to start because the french fry had to last’...

And then, there was screaming.

It was almost like a bad horror movie, with the sounds of screaming, crunching and swearing flickering in and out. Little snippets of a full scene that he could not comprehend as his battered head swam...

In the sudden silence, loud and grotesque for the heaviness of it, all that could be heard was a sharp, angry series of breaths.

Spy blinked frantically, trying to ascertain what had happened, trying to cling to the here and now when all his body & mind wished for was to give in to the swirling darkness. 

A figure coalesced before him, eyes seeming to glow with a feral light, body and bat completely splattered with blood and gore, expression half in shadow. 

“S-Sco-...?” Spy tried to get the word out around damaged molars and a outhful of blood. Everything throbbed, but the silence was a symphony of hope to his ears.

“Don’t worry, they won’t fuckin’ touch you again, Spy. I got ‘em.” growled an unusually serious Scout, his fist shaking around the bat’s handle. He seemed frozen, a figure in a portrait surrounded by the broken corpses of the BLUs, uncertain what to do next.

A wheezey exhalation from Spy seemed to snap the runner out of it, and he knelt to shove against the toolbox pinioning the espionage agent to the ground. It clunked to the ground with a heavy metallic finality, and Spy sighed at the sudden freedom. 

“Ya look like shit, Spook, so we gotta get ya out of here before those guys fall outta respawn lookin’ for revenge.”Scout says, mouth running while his eyes dart over the mess that the normally immaculate espionage agent made. He slips an arm under Spy and they slowly work the man into a sititng position.

Ankle’s definitely shattered, Spy notes with a true lack of enthusiasm.

“Scout... just prop me against the wall there and take the intel. Once it is secured, they cannot touch me anyway, as the humiliation round will keep me safe.” 

“And just who the fuck do you think you are ordering me about like that?” Scout objects, eyes never once leaving Spy’s face. 

“Someone who wants to win as much as I do?” Spy hazards.

Scout leans back on his haunces, crouched by Spy. He tilts his head, “Ya a real bastard, ya know that? I don’t care about the intel, we gotta get you outta here. But if it means that much to ya...”

In a frankly ridiculously fluid movement, Scout is up, across the room and back again before Spy could blink. The intel snapped to his back like a magnet.

Spy is hauled to his feet with minimal protestations, an arm over Scout’s shoulders and the runner’s other one about his waist. The majority of his bodyweight was resting on the runner, and Spy felt rather despondent about their chances of surviving like this.

He said so.

“The others are coming, don’t worry about it.” Scout grinned. 

Heavy machinegun fire could be heard above near the BLU spawn, along with delighted maniacal laughter. The REDs were here, and judging by the beeping of a sentry, they were spawncamping like no tomorrow.

“See? We got this. So don’t worry about it.” Scout shrugs as they begin the slow ascent up the corridor and hiopefully towards a dispenser. Spy lurching along and trying to think of other things as each jostling movement created little discomforts. 

In a momentary pause, he looks to the runner. “Merci, mon... fils.” 

The words felt too big for such a narrow corridor to hold all at once.

Scout laughed, half in delight and half from awkward nervousness. “Yeah, yeah, you better thank me. I saved ya butt in there!”

They continued hobbling towards the rest of RED for a long moment, before Scout said, looking anywhere but at Spy. “Don’t worry about it... Dad... I got ya.”

Spy could not help but smile through a mouth of bloody, broken teeth. Suddenly, the world felt a little brighter... 

The End

#tf2 #scout #spy #dadspy #fic list #random idea i had just now

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Hmm, still thinking about character profiles… might try and do something with that after this arc, since I didn’t do it before the USJ arc. Or maybe I should wait until after the Sports Festival? I suppose I’ll have to wait and see if I have enough material…

Still, it does feel weird to try and do character profiles when there are other ones out there that are so much more detailed and really dig into things. I mean, it can’t necessarily hurt for me to do, but it’d also push back the chapters even further when I just want to get caught up, so… bleh.

Anyways, chapter.

[No. 16 - Know Your Enemies]

First off, Mineta, why. Just. Sigh. 

Our first panel has izuku and Tsuyu wading towards the edge of the water, Izuku cradling his broken finger while Tsuyu drags Mineta along. Long and short, Mineta says the villains will be stuck together all day. Izuku is muttering about how lucky they were, because that move was a real gamble, and if the villains had been smart, a few of them would have been hidden under the water. He can guess they weren’t thinking ahead, but they still need to be careful…

Tsuyu tells him to stop, since what he’s muttering about is scary. She then asks him what they should do now. Izuku determines that their top priority is calling for help, and that if possible, they should follow the shoreline and make for the exit, avoiding the plaza altogether. (Meanwhile, Tsuyu asks if Izuku’s okay, which he confirms even while wincing over his injury.) Izuku’s narration recounts that their first battle ended in a win, but that he’d made a deadly wrong assumption. 

Huh. Izuku is using his elbow pad as a temporary compress for his broken finger. Interesting.

Tsuyu accepts Izuku’s plan, and then notes that Aizawa is drawing a large number of villains to the plaza. Izuku is worried about their teacher, noting that there’s too many enemies. Of course, Eraserhead is holding his own out there, but it’s too much for him, and that he had to know that, but jumped in to protect the class anyways.

Mineta think Izuku is planning something stupid (which I mean, rude but fair) while Tsuyu gives a neutral ribbit. Izuku clarifies that he isn’t saying they should dive right into the fight - just that they watch for an opening and do what they can to lighten their teacher’s load. The narration from above finishes with an ominous statement - thinking that they stood a chance against those enemies was a grave miscalculation.

Then we get an overview of the USJ and where everyone was sent, serving as the ‘cover page’ for the chapter. 

Interestingly, neither Aoyama or Hagakure have a confirmed location, though I am aware that Hagakure later states she was in the same zone as Shouto. And Shouji… oh, poor Shouji…

Can’t believe my good hugs boy was slandered like this… damn you Viz…

Not to mention the disrespect to our goddess Yaomomo… when will it end...

Next up, we get to see Shouto being casually intimidating. He exhales a chilled breath as his shoulder starts to steam, musing about the villains’ divide and conquer strategy. He then notes with a half-hearted preemptive apology that it’s hard to see the villains who were in the landslide zone as any more than thugs with quirks they can’t even handle. 

Jesus christ where does his ice end.

Shouto approaches the closest villain - perhaps the leader of that squad - his boots crunching in the ice as his left side continues to steam. The squad leader(?) calls him a bastard and complains how he reacted the second he was warped there, as well as wonders if he’s really just a kid before complaining about the pain from the frostbite of the ice.

Shouto briefly flashes back to Shigaraki mentioning how they brought along so many playmates (which I guess confirms that Jirou and/or Shouji forwarded some of what the villains were saying down in the plaza because otherwise there’s no way they should have heard from that distance.) He thinks about how the villains want to kill All Might, and and first, they’d all seemed elite, so they could use their numbers to overwhelm him. But taking a closer look, the pawns are only there for the kids, nothing but a gang of low-level cannon fodder. As far as he can tell, there are only about four or five really dangerous individuals there.

He then sits down(!!!) as he gets the villains’ attention, noting that at the rate they’re going, their skin will rot away from frostbite. The villains are alarm, but Shouto continues on, explaining that he’s trying to become a hero, and that heroes don’t do such horrible things. As he thinks about what he needs to do next, he asks the villains what makes them think they can kill All Might, and to tell him their plan.

Shouto, my man, that is a power move and a half right there, I cannot believe he actually sits down and makes them talk to him like an unruly class of students or sommat. Just, fucking hell, I don’t even know if he realizes how effectively he just asserted his dominance.

Our next scene shift (and the last for this post) is over to Yaomomo, Jirou, and Kaminari in the mountain zone, surrounded by enemies. 

Pick your fighter. I’m Birb Dude. 

A lot of those enemies have weapons of zome kind and are overall fairly intimidating, though there’s also this one fucker-

I’m sorry I just cannot take this one seriously, what the FUCK is that. There’s certainly some other questionable villains in this mess, but that one just. What.

Anyways. Kaminari just dodges a heavy punch from the big villain with the weird helmet on. He yelps as he gets closer to the girls and gets into formation (back to back to back), complaining about his whole life flashing before his eyes and asking who the hell those guys are and what they’re doing there. Jirou tells him to worry about that later, with Yaomomo stating they need to figure out how to get away from that mob. 

Jirou asks Kaminari to confirm he’s a ‘lightning guy’, and then tells him to just fry them all to a crisp. While she’s holding a presumably metal sword. Yeah no, I can’t see anything wrong with that plan. Kaminari is offended because why wasn’t she paying attention when were partners during the battle training? 

He then goes on to explain that he can only cover himself in electricity (so he wants a weapon), then goes on to say that he can discharge it, but he can’t control it - he’d hit them as well! Kind of like Todoroki’s power. He also states that he’s still trying to call for help, but his special transceiver is being jammed. He then finishes with the statement that they can’t rely on him, so he’s relying on them, giving a thumbs up with a bit of zap coming off of it.

Jirou grumbles about how he blabs a lot for a guy, then turns and kicks him into the crowd of villains, telling him to be a human stun gun. Kaminari yelps in disbelief at the betrayal, smacking right into the huge villain who almost punched him before and giving the guy a real good zap. Jirou is unimpressed as Kaminari realizes that the adhoc plan actually worked, and that the two can in fact rely on him after all. Jirou notes that that was easy.

Two other villains move to go after Kaminari, who is STILL somehow zapping the guy (how is that villain not dead yet??), with the rock fisted guy aiming a massive bouldery fist at a scared Kaminari. However, right before it hits, it gets cracked open by some kind of soundsave, leaving the villain’s unprotected fist to land right in Kaminari’s face and get them brutally zapped as well.

The boar-masked villain with knives tries to leap in, but a net shot from seemingly nowhere catches him mid-air and sends him falling to the ground caught up in it. We see right after that it was shot from Yaomomo’s right forearm / elbow, all while she’s blocking another strike from a different villain with her staff. She tells Jirou and Kaminari to get serious, with Jirou apologizing as she lifts her short sword again. 

Jirou unplugs her ear jack from the speaker in her right boot, the jack retracting to normal length as she notes that she had a good plan, but Kaminari… (something? IDK. I guess he’s in the way? Or she wasn’t expecting his quirk limitations?)

We get her full name - Jirou Kyoka - and a description of her quirk, Earphone Jack.

We also get to see her use her quirk without the speakers, directing one of those amplified heartbeats as a direct attack at some of the villains, who hold their hears as they shout from the pain. Jirou blocks another up-close sword attack with her own short sword, nothing that in her costume request, she asked for a way to focus her sound in one direction.

A question about her costume, like. Why are the speakers in her boots? I mean, I know her costume needed speakers to direct her quirk, but why not go for something like Present Mic’s costume where she could have the speakers on her shoulders and so a lot closer to her quirk???

Yeah, I need to try and keep remembering that these are first draft costumes made by fifteen year olds and not meant to be used in the field / against villains yet. Sometimes I am a dumb. Thank you discord for knocking my head straight.

Moving on, we get Yaomomo kicking another villain back as she states that ‘it’s ready’, which confuses Jirou and I guess the villains as well. The villain she kicked stumbles back as Yaomomo crouches over, her back starting to bulge as she notes that it took some time, what with it being a larger object. The back of her costume tears open in a fairly gruesome-seeming image, only for the next panel to reveal it’s some kind of huge sheet that shoot out over her and Jirou’s heads before coming down to completely cover them both.

The villains are confused about the sheet, asking if the kids are trying to shield themselves. Meanwhile, Kaminari seems done shocking the other villains, stumbling as others start to run at him with their weapons or hands poised to strike. Momo clarifies that the sheet is a 100 mm thick insulation sheet, then tells Kaminari ‘now.’ Kaminari, nose bloody, realizes her plan and let her know that. He lifts his arms, telling the villains that he’s actually super strong before bringing them down and fully unleashing his quirk, zapping all of them at once.

Pikachu, use Thunder!

As the quirk wears off, we see all the villains are in no condition to keep fighting. Smoke rises from the insulated sheet as Yaomomo lifts the edge, noting that now that that is handled, she’s worried about the others, so they need to hurry up and regroup. Jirou is flustered as she points out Yaomomo’s wardrobe malfunction (which I will not be sharing here), while Yaomomo calmly replies she can make more clothes. We also get a blurb on Yaomomo’s quirk:

As well as probably one of the most important things that Bones cut out for some stupid reason: belly rolls!

Yes, Yaomomo actually has a healthy weight in the manga. I mean, all the girls do, but still. Why do animes just ruin this stuff. 

Anyways, our last two panels of the page and this half of the chapter show Kaminari totally brain dead as he cheers, with another blurb about his quirk:

Behind all three of them, we see a fist smashing up out of the ground, showing that someone managed to dodge that super-attack after all…

Anyways, that’s a wrap for now. Next time is all Aizawa and Shigaraki, and that’s gonna be… messy. See y’all then!

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #chapter 16 #usj arc #readthrough #midoriya izuku #asui tsuyu #mineta minoru #todoroki shouto #Yaoyorozu Momo #jirou kyoka #kaminari denki #whoo boy a lot of action in here #and all the kids being pretty cool #yaomomo our goddess proving she deserves the no. 1 hero spot #i should just make that a tag for her #she carries the entire damn class on her back #long post #sorry I got a bit into this chapter hahaha #should just tag all of these with long post tbh #then again people following this blog should accept the long posts for what they are

[magicalforcesau]

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 21 - Year 2: May

(ao3 link)

Palpatine would never expect his morning to start with something as pathetic as tripping over a potted plant upon entering his office. He managed not to fall, and bit back a sneer as he kicked the damned thing over. Someone had been in here… He could tell even if it wasn’t explicitly obvious. Not a single thing seemed out of place, but as he studied his desk it seemed to have been moved. Now that he mentioned it, everything in the room had been moved ever so slightly to the left, just enough to cause suspicion and clearly just enough to cause him to stumble like a newborn deer.

“Maul,” He growled, waving his wand in search of any hidden surprises, but had the madman tried to set any curses, his alarms would surely have been set off. Yes, he’d known he was close and had his suspicions that he was in the building.

A few days ago, the leeches had been let out of the potion storage. The Slytherin students hadn’t been very thrilled when several of them were found in their beds. Palpatine had dealt with it, regardless of how he’d prefer his house learn to deal with such trivial matters themselves.

The Slytherins he went to school with were much braver than the cowards of today.

Such an event he could chalk up to an accident, or a student lurking where they shouldn’t be. Yet even still, he found it unlikely that the leeches found their way into the common room on their own.

Of course he was the only one with such suspicions. The braindead ministry dogs stationed outside of the school had nary a clue to where Maul was at any given time. Maul would have to do nothing short of waltzing up to them in handcuffs before they’d realize what was right in front of them. With the sloppy way Maul was presenting himself, it was even more damning.

Even more useless were the pitiful dementors that couldn’t seem to find him even if he’d announced himself front and center. Though truthfully, Palpatine had some theories on that.

Maul had gotten soft in his time away it seemed, reduced to petty pranks and trickery like the student he’d never fully been. His former apprentice had never been particularly focused, becoming the killing machine of his namesake easily and with little prompting. Now, after many years to stew in the place where most lost their minds if not their souls, he refused to move his sights off of Skywalker.

Palpatine waved his wand again, righting his office to its proper position. He would not fall prey to such a mundane task as moving furniture, not when he had much bigger fish to fry. He walked around his desk staring a hole through the daily prophet left sitting there, Maul’s wanted poster still front and center.

If his former apprentice wanted to waste his time riling him up, he could do as he so pleased. Palpatine had worked too hard and too long to bring his plans into fruition. When he finally got his hands on him, Maul would learn to regret even the slightest action against him. 

***

“Did that exam feel…” Satine paused, still in shock as they put greater distance between themselves and the courtyard.

“Short?” Obi-Wan finished for her, clearly still reeling from the same level of unease over the whole matter. They’d all passed- even Hondo- but that hadn’t exactly been hard since despite all of the drills and practices they needed to run, the exam somehow only consisted of a simple apparition across the lawn and back. Such practices were normally not possible at Hogwarts, with the sole exception being when a class was being taught.

“Yeah,” She nodded, confusion still pouring off her in waves.

“Even I thought it was a little too easy,” Cody admitted, which felt like a true testament that Obi-Wan and Satine weren’t simply disappointed that they hadn’t been challenged, “Normally, you’d never hear me say that, but…”

“And this isn’t our typical Charms or History of Magic exam,” Obi-Wan said.

“This is something akin to a driver’s license.” Satine turned to both of them, “And I promise you that while not rocket science by any measure, the driver’s test at least tries to prove that you can do the basics.”

“Hondo fell on his bum when he landed and he still passed.” Obi-Wan added, concern knitting his brow. “Makes me a bit worried what sort of people they’re allowing to apparate.”

“That’s just it, my brothers told me about the apparition exam and they always said they made you run drills like they did in class.”

“I remember Qui-Gon saying something similar,” Satine bit her lip, “Do you think they did this because of everything going on?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Obi-Wan said and they continued walking, “Think about it, we were all out in the open, with a murderer on the loose. I bet they wanted to get it over with and usher us inside as fast as they could.”

“Then delay the test,” Satine shrugged, “I don’t get what the rush was to approve all of us.”

“Maybe it’s a means of escape,” Cody said darkly. “I just hope it doesn’t result in any other consequences. I don’t know if either of you have ever been splinched, but-”

“-It’s not comfortable,” Obi-Wan filled in a bit too quickly for either of his friend’s satisfaction. Particularly Satine looked concerned at how immediate his reaction had been. She’d heard of it, of course, but as a muggle-born, it never happened to her. Most of the time, according to Windu, it was clothes or hair lost to splinching, but there were instances when flesh was wounded.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat before either could comment, “I suppose the bright side is, we passed.”

Neither were so sure how bright it was.

***

Ventress has truly anticipated expulsion or at the very least, suspension, and maybe this would have been the case under Headmaster Yoda’s rule, but whether she deemed it lucky or not, she was receiving no such punishment with Palpatine.

“I hope you understand where you belong, Ventress and see that I have afforded you mercy because of your family.” Palpatine said in that smooth, light voice. His eyes spoke of a different story. Something haunted him or perhaps he was the one who'd done the haunting. He was lauded as the kindly old potions’ professor, but she knew from experience that one didn’t climb so high up the social ladder without breaking backs on one’s way.

Dooku was that way and she’d been one of the backs he’d broken. She wasn’t even a high peg on a ladder to him, just a meager foot stool. 

“Did you write them?” She asked, because it was always good to know when she’d be expecting a howler in the mail.

“Not yet,” He tsked, walking around his desk, “Though I suspect I won’t need to. Word travels fast enough.”

Yes, this cursed world did appreciate a show more than anything else. She had never expected hers to be deemed a pitiful tragedy- a failed villainous uprising. She’d hoped that when her story broke that she’d have the support and care of her sisters at either side. Instead, as always, Ventress was alone.

“What are you going to do with me, Headmaster?” She asked, looking up into his eyes. She didn’t feel remorse for her actions, per say, just that they were evidently in vain. Like any true Slytherin, she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve the means to an end. 

Part of her wanted expulsion or to be thrown away without the key. Anything, at the moment, seemed better than going back home and groveling and pretending that she was an abused victim. She wanted, with everything in her heavy bones, for this to be her narrative rather than the reality that she was nothing more than a bookend to Dooku’s and his master’s. She loathed the concept of being used, of being the victim, even if she knew her survival would depend on playing that role.

Palpatine watched her with almost serene calmness, like he could sense the way her thoughts bled. Nobody knew Palpatine’s story, because he kept that close to the chest. Ventress wondered if they ever would, even after death. 

Everyone had their secrets. 

And Ventress missed hers. 

“Well, I’m stripping you of all authority, for starters,” He said, walking around his desk to sit behind it again, “Seeing as you are still a minor, I’ve managed to convince the Ministry to not toss you into Azkaban. If and only if-”

If there was one thing Ventress hated more than pretending, it was negotiating, which was a large facet of the pureblood world. People negotiated the terms of courting rituals, business deals, even social events and how they would proceed. It was all one big set of terms and conditions. 

Even if she quite possibly still stood solely for her pure hatred for Dooku, she still couldn’t help but agree with some of those ideals. Would she abandon them in an effort to sabotage him? Yes, without hesitance. It was but another means to an end. She’d abandoned so much of what she knew already. It was only icing on the cake. 

“What?” She asked, keeping her hands cross in her lap to prevent herself from clawing at the desk between them.

“You must tell the aurors everything you know about Dooku,” He said sagely, but it was clearly rehearsed, quite possibly just before she came in, “And my dear, they will know if you’re lying.”

***

Despite the waning student population and the heightened anxieties surrounding Maul sightings in the area, they were still allowing the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. It seemed like a desperate grasping for normalcy from the staff members still trying to keep up morale. It didn’t feel very normal, however, when all four houses fit neatly within the bounds of the Gryffindor section of the field. The professors didn’t want everyone spread out and those with friends in other houses welcomed the opportunity to chat outside of class. Satine had positioned herself between Obi-Wan and Cody, they were sitting closest to the exit. She felt almost like she was being watched and kept glancing behind her, but there was no one there. Paranoia certainly.

“I hope Hufflepuff beats Slytherin,” Cody grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s the only way to get Gryffindor back in the running.”

“I think that’s fairly unlikely,” Ben nodded towards the field, a soft glare on his face, “Ventress looks angry.”

“When doesn’t she,” Satine muttered, ignoring Ben as he turned his concerned eyes onto her.

She was willing to put the experience behind her. Though she doubted she’d ever forget what it felt like to be slowly turned to stone. The girl in question had lost her title as Quidditch captain, but had remained on the team. It seemed though, they hadn’t gotten around to choosing a new captain because Ventress still approached Breha to shake hands. So it was simply the matter of losing a title and not really a position. If in fact Headmaster Palpatine didn’t bother to enforce such things.

Then again, she always knew he favored purebloods.

“Shouldn’t even be allowed to play,” Cody crossed his arms, “She shouldn’t even be allowed to be here at all.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t haul her off to Azkaban.”

“Do you really think a child belongs on that foul island?” Because that’s what they were, children. Satine didn’t think that such a horrible punishment would be worth it for someone who likely only recently turned 17. For something so horrible to be done on her account as well? She couldn’t stand for it. She wanted Ventress to find peace and she certainly wouldn’t be able to move past being a pawn for Dooku behind bars.

“It’s starting!” Cody grinned and leaned forward. At least this time since they were stuck in the back she wouldn’t have to worry about keeping him from falling over the ledge.

***

“Hey, Professor! You coming to see the match?” Anakin asked.

Kit Fisto flashed them a bright smile, which came easily for him even with the rumors that it would be cancelled due to Maul’s lingering presence. Anakin found that he was having a more difficult time offering legitimate smiles these days. Never did he ever consider that Maul was capable of drawing so close to the school. 

“Just making sure there aren’t any stragglers, Anakin.” He said, “We’ve all got to stick together, after all.”

“Yeah, okay, but make sure you come watch! Gryffindor might not win the cup this year, but it would be pretty cool to see Ventress get beat by Hufflepuff. 

“There’s got to be some punishment for what she did to us,” Rex growled with a clenched fist.

“And what’s better than getting demolished by the worst team in Quidditch?” Anakin said cheerily, although Rex didn’t seem so sure that was appropriate. Neither did the few Hufflepuffs that shot him dirty looks as they passed.

In spite of this, Kit Fisto laughed, his long green tentacles wiggling as he did, “Yes, well, I’m sure Headmaster Palpatine won’t let her off completely scot free.”

“I think he just let her play because she’s a good player,” Anakin grumbled.

“Now, now, there’s a lot more that goes on behind the scenes than either you or I are privy to,” Fisto said placatingly, “We’re all doing what we can to keep you guys safe.”

“I know.” Both Anakin and Rex said in unison.

“Even if I do feel like this might be testing fate a bit,” He gestured to the large crowd of people, “I suppose it is nice to see everyone so happy for a change.”

It was, but even Anakin, who had made some bold and sometimes foolish decisions in the name of fun, thought it was a little soon. He’d heard rumors that Palpatine was being pushed by the Ministry to hold the Quidditch matches anyway. Apparently, there was a decent gambling pool that relied on which team would come out on top. 

“It would make me happier if Slytherin loses.” Rex said.

He leaned down to their level and winked, “Between you and me? Same.”

“We’ll see you in there?” Anakin laughed.

“I’m right behind you,” Fisto nodded.

***

Breha was never one to underestimate her opponents. Slytherin team may have been without a captain, but she still knew they would be looking to Ventress for plays. They’d been working with her all year after all. It was, however, still something they could take advantage of. A few of the Slytherin players would certainly be willing to try and usurp the queen in order to gain the position next year and that would make their play style much more chaotic than it would otherwise be.

That was excellent for a team like Hufflepuff, who thrived in their teamwork. None of them had the same level of ambition as many of the Slytherin’s she knew. Ambition wasn’t always a bad thing, Breha would be hard pressed to say she didn’t possess some level of it herself, but in a situation like this, she knew her team would flow like a stream whereas their opposition would butt heads like a rockslide.

She knocked away the Quaffle from the golden hoops as she kept a careful eye on the bludgers that were being knocked her way. Her chasers were quick to grab it out from the competitive hands of two Slytherin chasers. Hufflepuff was steadily racking up points and although they were nowhere near to beating them without the snitch, it certainly was quite an embarrassment for the house of green and silver. Normally Hufflepuff would be hard pressed to get the ball through a ring at all.

“Get it together, you useless swine,” Ventress hollered at her team as she skirted dangerously close to their heads. If she likely wasn’t in the mood to get into more trouble, Breha wondered if she might hit them with her bat.

“Good job!” Breha cheered with a smile as her own team scored a point. The cheers erupting from the audience were quieter than they usually were, but loud enough to hear over the wind. Breha frowned, taking her eyes off the game for only a moment to search her surroundings. She almost thought she’d heard a scream.

She turned, around and narrowly managed to catch the Quaffle with her hands rather than her face before tossing it down field. The audience cheered again, but something didn’t feel right. Breha’s hands twitched on the handle of her broom. She could call a timeout, but she would hate to waste something over a feeling.

She glanced around again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She raised her hands to make the call when a loud whistle jolted the game to a halt. Breha dodged a bludger as they both went sailing for their holding crate. Professor Tiin was holding up his hands in a desperate T. She descended quickly on her broom and the rest of the students in the sky followed.

“What’s going on?”

***

“They’ve stopped,” Satine was surprised. She’d watched a lot of Quidditch despite her distaste for it and she certainly hadn’t seen anything like this happen before, “A time out?”

“Somethings up,” Cody was the one to respond. He was watching the field with interest, but there was a layer of worry that he normally didn’t have when watching even the most dangerous of crashes, “Ref called for their grounding; there wasn’t anything wrong with the game.”

“No penalties,” Ben nodded. He too looked concerned, eyes flicking around the stadium. Satine found herself looking behind her again. She no longer felt eyes on her, but she certainly felt like the hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to raise. Before either of them could comment further though, Headmaster Palpatine’s voice, amplified, filled the stadium. His tone was less than pleased.

“Students and Faculty,” He started solemnly, “We must immediately return to the castle.”

Chatter filled the stands at once, not just the children either, but Satine caught Professor Plo turning to whisper to Professor Windu. Neither of them looked like they knew anything.

“What about the game?” A fourth year Gryffindor yelled, “It’s against the rules to stop!”

“What’s going on?” A Ravenclaw third year added from a few seats in front of her. Satine felt like her limbs were full of lead as she reached out to clutch the sleeve of Ben’s robe. She had a bad feeling.

“The game is not important,” There was a soft sigh that was barely audible past a few outcries from the student body, “It brings me a terrible sadness to inform you of the passing of Professor Kit Fisto-”

Cries of outrage and of sadness expelled themselves from the student body. The Professors, while schooled better on their emotions, looked just as surprised as they stood, immediately gathering students and shuffling them towards the exits. On the field, Professor Tiin was doing the same with the Quidditch teams.

“It has to be Maul,” Ben hissed at them, “He’s getting bolder.”

Neither she nor Cody could make much of a response though, being swept amongst other panicked students out of the stands and onto the sprawling grounds. Satine only realized she still had a grip on Ben’s sleeve when he tripped and fell, and she narrowly avoided the same fate by letting go.

“Ben-” She started reaching out a hand for him when she noticed he’d tripped over a first year who looked rather shell shocked, wide horrified eyes filling up with tears. He must have fallen first and narrowly avoided being trampled on.

“Oh, hey there, it’s alright,” Ben had noticed too, taking the time to help the boy up off the ground, despite the shouts of professors for them to get back in line, “Come on, we just have to get into the castle, alright? We’ll be safe there.” Satine felt like she was intruding, but refused to leave them there alone. Luckily, the boy took Ben’s hand quickly and the three of them shuffled back into the crowd quickly.

As soon as the last student was through the doors to the castle they slammed shut, latching forcefully behind them. The doors to the Great Hall did similarly.

“Bloody hell, I thought you two had disappeared,” Cody ran up to them, looking relieved. His own brothers fell at ease the second he turned away from them, clearly he’d rounded them up first thing.

“Is Anakin-?” Ben whipped his head around to look and Cody pointed towards where Anakin and Rex were looking pale and shaken, but alive.

All were accounted for it seemed, all but Professor Kit Fisto, who had died at the hands of a mad man while guarding the far side of the pitch, alone.

***

A funeral for Kit Fisto had been held off grounds- somewhere in the middle of the ocean for all of his aquatic friends and family members to properly mourn him in accordance with their traditions. His ashes were sprinkled over the Mariana Trench, where he’d done some of his biggest work. 

His absence left the school caught in a limbo of uncertainty. Professors were in a mode of practicality only and it was hardly blameable. Maul had not only gotten within their barrier, but had committed a gruesome act of violence that some students had the horrors of bearing witness to the aftermath of. 

Kit Fisto had been treated not like a person, but a sign to be waved on a stick, to show just what Maul intended to do to each of them if they didn’t give him Anakin Skywalker. Classes were taught within the confines of the common rooms to keep students from traveling elsewhere. With the blocked off tunnels, it seemed like the only safe space to keep Maul out. 

No longer were even prefects allowed to walk the halls. Patrols were cancelled, and professors and aurors walked every space and brought food to students as well as taught their classes. It was a mess, really, and students were definitely affected by the change. Less and less faces were present, many removed from the castle altogether at the insistence of their parents. 

However, those who remained were downcast and gray just like the sky outside their windows. A greedy part of Obi-Wan was thankful that his friends were still here, even if the current circumstances didn’t allow him to see Cody or Anakin. He was surprised Satine’s mother didn’t bring her home, though he had his suspicions of the extent at which she knew. It was hard to tell with the muggle families. They didn’t get the same news as wizards did, but it seemed awfully callous for there to be no warning from the school. 

Then again, professors were quite busy working alongside the aurors to track Maul down. Part of him wondered where he could possibly be hiding, but really, there were endless corridors at Hogwarts that he’d never known of- not until the existence of the map, anyway. Even then, the fabled Room of Requirement was still out there untouched. Pure intentions were supposed to unlock it and he had severe doubts that Maul’s qualified.

This castle that they’d once been free to roam had shrunk significantly for all of them. He couldn’t even imagine being in Slytherin house and segmented only to the lightless space near the dungeons.

The news of Kit Fisto’s tragic demise took a while to reach outside outlets, for it wasn’t until an entire week later, shortly after his reported funeral, that they’d received a very dramatic and incoherent Floo call from Aayla. Even in the charcoal embers taking form into her face, he could tell she was blubbering like a baby. 

“HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?” She wailed and the other students in the common room, who were a bit piled on top of one another, turned their bodies to try and allow privacy to the fireplace. It wasn’t like Aayla seemed to mind much.

“Er, I know this must be difficult for you,” Obi-Wan tried awkwardly as he searched his eyes through the room. Where was Satine when he needed her? There weren’t too many places to go, after all.

“DIFFICULT? TRY IRREVOCABLY HEARTBROKEN TO THE LARGEST DEGREE? HE WAS SO YOUNG SO KIND SO BEAUTIFUL.” She shook with tears, “Too good for this world, honestly. I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

Obi-Wan didn’t think himself a callous person, but he sure as hell didn’t know how to navigate this conversation without further setting her off, “He will be dearly missed as he was a favorite teacher for most.”

“He’s more than that!” She bellowed, but it wasn’t intimidating due to the hiccups she’d recently caught, “He was the kindest soul placed on this earth like an orb of light- and I but a moth drawn to him…”

“Yes, of course!” Obi-Wan panicked, “I didn’t mean to reduce your care for him, I only meant-”

“Aayla?” Satine was suddenly knelt beside him, looking over his shoulder and into the fire. 

“Yes, Satine, Aayla heard the unfortunate news regarding Professor Fisto-”

“DON’T SAY HIS NAME IT’S TOO SOON!” She sobbed.

Satine flashed him a scathing look and he shrugged helplessly. Aayla did have a point about there being many extremely crestfallen students over the professor’s death. Beyond simply grieving a good professor and person too. Many of the remaining members of Fisto’s fan club were inconsolably upset, like they’d just lost the love of their young lives.  It seemed he’d made a big impression in his short time as a professor, even if not necessarily the way he’d intended to. 

Even on that scale, he’d be missed. Although reserved by bureaucratic restrictions, Fisto tried to teach them to fight, to protect themselves. In many ways, Obi-Wan preferred him as a professor to Dooku (even removing the sinister Sith stuff), because of how approachable and charismatic he’d been. Obi-Wan was in a bit of disbelief even still that he was gone.

“Did you see him?” She sniffled.

Satine tensed, but shook her head, “No, and I don’t envy those who did.”

“No, I suppose not.” Aayla said, “You know what my last words were to him?”

“What’s that?” Obi-Wan asked.

She breathed deeply to stabilize herself, “That I’d perfect resistance to the Imperius curse while at home. What kind of goodbye is that?”

“Well, you couldn’t have possibly known, Aayla.” Satine said soothingly and Obi-Wan wondered how she maintained the careful line of logic and empathetic. It would be beautiful to bear witness to under different circumstances that weren’t this depressing.

“Maybe not, but I haven’t even been able to do him justice by practicing my resistance!”

“Everyone’s having a hard time studying in this climate,” Satine said and looked around, “We’re all on top of one another in here.”

“Plus, rumor has it, someone’s fixed up a shrine for Professor Fisto in the girl’s bathroom,” Obi-Wan said.

“I should be there to pay tribute,” She said. “If it weren’t for my parents, I would be.”

“It’s better that you’re not,” Satine assured, “You can properly mourn him when you come back, when everything is safe again.”

If it was safe again. She hadn’t said it that way, but he could tell by her demeanor that she was thinking of it. It had only been a week since they were confined to their common room, but it was starting to feel very much like they were trapped. His only means of asking how Anakin was aside from the fireplace was through Qui-Gon and his daily visits. 

“I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN!” She cried. 

“Erm,” he bit his lip, “There there, he wouldn’t want you to be-”

“-He would never know what I want, because I, like many others, kept my feelings locked within my heart instead of on display. It’s the stupid logical side of me.”

“Well, he was your professor.” This was not the correct thing to say. “You couldn’t possibly pursue a relationship-”

“-Ben, why don’t you referee the first and second year’s game of gobstones, since you like it so,” The edge to her voice queued him into realizing that thankfully, it was not a suggestion.

“You still play that?” Aayla wrinkled her nose, briefly distracted from her woe, “That’s for children!”

“It’s a very tactical game, thank you!” Obi-Wan huffed.

“Kit liked darts.” Aayla remembered that she was supposed to be heartbroken.

Obi-Wan took his opportunity to exit before it was lost on him, feeling a bit guilty for leaving Satine with that mess to clean. As it were, sticking around was only making it worse. He just hoped that the other houses were faring better than they were locked up.

***

If it weren’t for the blanket of loss that stained everything, Anakin probably would have called their mandatory lockdown some sort of break from school. The concept of a “staycation” was lost on Rex and his brothers, but it was even less pleasant given the circumstances. The first day hadn’t been bad, since they all basically hung out and tried to distract themselves with snacks and jokes. Seven days in, however, it was getting tedious and it was even worse by the professors attempting to teach the entire common room at once, which meant that half of it was far too confusing and ahead of the game for even Anakin to grasp.

Plus, he didn’t have Obi-Wan to edit his stuff, which made a big difference. Qui-Gon did offer to deliver any parcels or letters back and forth, but that felt silly when he could always theoretically use the fireplace. Acknowledging that they might be in here for a while was starting to get to him.

“I’d give anything for a game of Quidditch,” Cody sighed as he flipped through a magazine on the very subject, wistfully running a hand on the glossy pictures that depicted summer fun in the most recent digest. 

“Quidditch? I’d give anything to do a lap running around the castle,” Rex added with a stretch of his leg, “I’m going stir crazy.”

“Need I remind you all that you lot rejected our suggestion for indoor Aingingein.” Fives piped up from his spot on the floor beside his twin.

“Yeah, and I’ll never be desperate enough to try that inside!” Cody said, “We haven’t even got any barrels to light on fire anyway.”

“We could improvise!” Echo complained. “It doesn’t have to be on fire.”

“With you lot, it’s always on fire.” He said pointedly, “Even if it’s not supposed to be.”

“I have always excelled with pyrotechnic spells,” Echo said smugly, “Definitely a strong suit of mine.”

“Of ours, thank you,” Fives corrected.

“Never thought I’d hear the day where you’re the voice of reason,” Anakin said to Cody, who turned his head lazily with a crooked smile.

“Process of elimination, kid.” He said, though Anakin viewed Cody as more responsible than he gave himself credit for. 

He felt guilty for allowing himself to feel monotony. Someone had died, after all, and the only reason they were all stuck here was because Maul wanted to eliminate the Chosen One- a title he couldn’t believe he’d once been proud of. They were all lucky to be safe within their common room and that Maul hadn’t incited anymore violence the day he got Fisto. Even that small consolation felt immediately hollow as Anakin thought of it. 

It didn’t stop the darkest crevices of his mind from generating possibilities of Maul picking off each standing professor and auror, leaving them trapped and with no real way of knowing what was happening. It was horrifying. Judging by The Daily Prophet, reports weren’t being as authentic as they could be about the sheer amount of danger they were in. 

“What’s the first thing you’re doing when we get out of here?” Rex asked him.

“Oh,” Anakin hadn’t really thought of it, “Probably never complain about having to wake up early for class ever again.”

“I hear that.” Fives said, “Getting up and moving to a different room sounds like a dream. Anything has to be better than sitting here wasting time.”

Anakin glanced over towards the other end of the room, where Padmé was perched near the window, allowing the natural light of the sun to provide an angelic glow on her face as she read the book in her lap. Even though they didn’t have to, she still dressed in Gryffindor robes and had her hair pulled back in two buns that were fanned out at the base of her neck and shimmering with a silver glitter.

In the pocket of his robes was the necklace he’d decorated for her. There were so many moments where he wanted to give it to her, to tell her that he painted it with his hands and that he knew life was short and that meant seizing it while you had it, not isolating him. 

He considered standing and approaching her, sitting opposite and inquiring about what she was reading, telling her she looked lovely, and making this anything but wasted time for him. 

The thought washed away faster than it appeared and an announcement chimed through the entire room, silencing everyone from the idle chatter that kept them sane thus far.

Anakin didn’t need to hear it before to know who it belonged to. 

“Professors and students of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry,” Maul addressed them all like a king addressing his loyal subjects, “Despite how the Daily Prophet might paint me, I am capable of being reasonable. You see I am not as young as I used to be, so I see no issue in leaving the castle and its occupants unscathed. There is but one thing that I desire.”

Anakin’s heart was pounding in his chest and he felt Rex’s hand on his shoulder immediately. It should have been stabilizing and comforting, but all it really did was serve as a reminder as to why Maul was even here. 

“Give me your precious Chosen One, and I will see to it that there is no more bloodshed,” Maul continued, “For it was not long ago that I was in your midst and though I was treated like a feral animal not worthy of teaching, I do have some sentimental nostalgia to this place. After all, every hero requires an origin story.”

“We do not bargain with murderers, Maul.” This time, Anakin truly did know the voice to be Mace Windu’s firm tone.

“A pity, Professor Windu, a pity indeed,” Maul remained completely calm and neutral, which Anakin hadn’t expected. They all watched the ceiling as though they waited with bated breath for him to sink through it. “Because until you submit to my conditions, I will cut through every single person in this school until I get what I want.”

“You will not succeed, Maul.” Palpatine, this time, echoed through the room, even if not physically present. 

A long pause, and then, “I’ll be the judge of that, Headmaster.”

And then, a laugh so sinister and cold that Anakin swore his blood was frozen solid. Everyone was watching him as the voices faded and they were only left to the crackling of the fire. He stared straight ahead, burning with an anger and fear so bright that he felt he might physically glow.

“We aren’t going to let him get you, mate.” Rex insisted severely, “You hear me?”

He didn’t doubt that they would do everything in their power to save him, but Anakin already had the guilt of his mother’s disappearance weighing on his conscience. He wasn’t sure he could bear another.

At the thought of his mother, he practically saw stars. This monster had been the reason his family, his home, his protector was gone. He took her and did who knows what with her. And while he knew from deep within him, from the small little voice that told him so in his most horrible dreams, he wasn’t ready for such a threat. 

But he also wasn’t ready to lose his mother and he certainly wasn’t ready to allow his friends to take any heroic falls for him. Maul was here for a reason and perhaps, that’s what he needed, to have it handed straight over to him.

“Anakin.” Rex said again and shook his shoulder, “I don’t like that look you’ve got on your face.”

He stared at his friend, memorizing the kindness on his face. He didn’t deserve him. “I’m sorry, Rex.”

“It’s not your fault!” He insisted, scoffing at the idea of it. “He’s a lunatic! He’s gone and murdered a professor because of a stupid poem that was written centuries ago! So what if you’re the Chosen One according to that! Isn’t Qui-Gon always saying the future is always changing?”

He was, but right now was the present, which Anakin could only control his own actions in.

“I am sorry for that… And for this,” He nodded, but then blasted his friend backwards with a swift stupefy spell, and raced out of the room before anyone could grab him. One of the Fett’s nearly succeeded and ripped a piece of his robe, but the door slammed behind him before he could be fully pulled back.

He was going to face Maul.

***

Satine, like every other student in the school, was horrified at the conversation they’d all heard booming in their ears. It felt like an immense invasion of privacy and had intended to have that effect, considering the initial source. They were lucky enough to have Qui-Gon present when it occurred for class, but any comfort that his presence might have offered was swept away when he immediately made for the exit with his wand ready.

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan was paler than she’d ever seen him and watching his mentor with a fear they never should have known, “Don’t.”

“I will do what I must, Obi-Wan,” He nodded, “As will you, I’m sure.”

There was a passing secret language between them of which Satine did not understand and was not intended to. Whatever it meant, it caused Obi-Wan to look ready to snap in two right before her eyes. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, not knowing what to say at all under such circumstances. They were under siege by one man, who couldn’t be stopped by aurors or Dementors or even their notable DADA professor. She felt her heart plunge into the pit of her stomach as the severity of this dawned on all of them. For a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the room but the three of them.

“Yes, Professor.” He said instead of what he’d meant to and just like that, Qui-Gon Jinn was gone and the door behind him locked.

Obi-Wan stared at where he’d left for a long moment, fists balled and whether it was the angle of the sun or otherwise, his eyes looked glassy. His lip didn’t tremble and his breathing didn’t change. Instead, he looked rigid beyond repair.

“I’m sure he’s just going to Gryffindor’s common room to check on Anakin.” Satine said as she cautiously approached him to rest a hand on his shoulder blade. He didn’t flinch or jump at her touch, but it did feel like he had transported off to another plane of existence. 

“That’s exactly what he’s doing.” He said heavily and finally turned to meet her eyes, “Maul went to this school. Surely, he knows it well enough to know where the Gryffindors sleep.”

That had also occurred to her, but right now, standing in front of him, where they were both so desperately trying to grasp onto some semblance of hope, she didn’t want to voice it. She feared their time for seeking solace was well passed. 

“Maul doesn’t know the codes to get in.” She said firmly, “He won’t be able to get in and get Anakin. The Fat Lady wouldn’t allow for it.

He did nod at that, “Yes, it was a security measure from-”

“-The war, I presume.” She raised an eyebrow, “As everything is?”

“Actually from the amount of teen pregnancies occurring from inter-house relations.” He said frankly and it nearly made her laugh if it didn’t sound like such a believably ludicrous solution only thought of by wizards. 

Any light quip she was thinking of making disappeared into nothing as the fireplace burst into a hasty shout of, “Kenobi? Are you there? Satine? Anyone?”

They rushed to the fire again, recognizing their best friend’s voice in mind-numbing alarm. Any younger students dove out of the way immediately on instinct to avoid being knocked into the flames.

“Cody, I-” Obi-Wan hadn’t even gotten a word in edgewise before he was promptly cut off by Cody’s furious shout, which was no doubt trying to compete with the noisy background surrounding him.

“ANAKIN’S ESCAPED!”

“What?” It was Obi-Wan who interrupted this time. “What do you mean he escaped?”

“He’s going for Maul!” Rex cried, shoving his brother out of the way, “I tried to stop him, but-”

Anything else Rex said faded to the background, though she suspected it was mostly nonsense judging by how upset he clearly was.

No, that couldn’t be. Her heart was thundering in her ears at the implication. Anakin was giving himself up for slaughter, but she knew in her heart that despite his claims, Maul would not stop there. Violence only begets more violence, especially when from the hand of a bloodthirsty animal.

“Stay put,” Obi-Wan’s voice was almost unrecognizable. It was deeper, commanding, and completely unlike the gentle witticism she’d grown used to (and fond of) over the years. Had she not watched him speak, she might not have believed it at all. 

“Kenobi, don’t you even think-” Cody shoved back in.

Obi-Wan didn’t allow him to finish the sentiment, ending the connection and shoving himself off the ground with nearly as much speed as he’d gotten to it, aggressively shoving through a surrounding crowd, knocking Fenn Rau onto his arse when he tried to block him from the exit with tremendous ease. Satine followed through the space he’d left in his wake, desperately trying to reach him with a pounding dread that washed her into a blinding panic.

She caught his hand just before he could leave, in a vice grip that under different circumstances she would not use, but it drew his attention back to her, his eyes blazing with purpose and certainty. 

“Let go of me.” He said with strange calm.

“No.” She said, “I won’t let you do this.”

“That’s not up to you!”

“Like hell it isn’t!” She argued, “I won’t have you knocking on death’s door yet again out of some infuriating sense of nobility.”

“Satine,” His eyes softened as he focused on her and looked a little more like the boy who effortlessly stole her breath away, “It’s Anakin.”

She knew that. Her stomach curled and coiled at the vile revelation and what it meant for Obi-Wan, who despite not being the main character of this prophetic narrative, was a true hero despite his own self-doubts. And really, she wouldn’t care for him the way she did if he weren’t the type to run into the fire against his better logic for a boy who had always been chosen to him- prophecy be damned. 

There was no one else in the room as she contemplated just how dire this moment was and how pitiful it was.

“Please be careful.” She found herself saying in a voice only he could hear.

“I always try to be.” It wasn’t a promise and she noticed that. He would never make a promise he couldn’t keep. Not to her.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and her mind raced with a flush of memories and regrets- that in this moment the cold reality was drenching them with how little time they likely had left. It seemed he was processing a similar line of thinking, because his eyes scanned her face as though memorizing every detail. Thousands of unsaid words passed between them, though even then she yearned to hear the real thing. 

It was now or never, it seemed.

“At Christmas, I-” His breath hitched, “I- Well, I’ve never…”

He seemed quite infuriated with himself. A crash in the distance caused them both to break their spell and Obi-Wan turned back to her, regret swimming in his eyes as well as a fondness that could no longer be debated. 

They didn’t have time.

“I’m sorry,” He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a single firm kiss to her knuckles, “Another time, I hope.”

And she watched him go, memorizing with painstaking clarity the feeling of his hand slipping from hers and out of reach as his perfect silhouette danced down the stairs hurriedly, never looking back. Perhaps, because doing so would make him run back to her. That’s what she told herself again. 

Her hand burned as she clutched it tightly. She had a duty to uphold too. 

***

Anakin ran, assuming logically that the grand staircases would be where Maul awaited. He seemed to be somewhat interested in being dramatic and Anakin could think of no better place to stage an assault. He’d expected to hear someone following behind him, a professor trying to catch him before he did something so stupid or a friend come to his aid, but neither seemed as crazy as he was to face a threat so great.

The closer to the staircase he grew, the more aurors were laid about, Anakin felt his steps falter as he purposely turned his eyes away. They were fine, they had to be, they were just… taking a nap.

Although even his own heart didn’t take the gentle suggestion at face value.

He saw green light reflecting off the wall up ahead. It gave off an eerie strobe effect that made Anakin hesitate. His wand was still gripped in his hand and he did know a fair few spells he was quite good at, but what did he know about going against someone so powerful? Countless aurors were lying about, clearly not able to take him themselves and it certainly didn’t seem like Maul was in the mood to play with his victims.

The thoughts of his own home kept his feet moving forward. His mother’s bedroom, covered with feathers and his mother, missing, possibly worse and it had to be at the hands of Maul. Who else would be trying to draw him out, but the man who was very clear at wanting him dead this entire year? He repeated over and over and over again the stunning spell in his head as he stepped out into the open area of the staircases.

An auror had just caught the end of a green beam and was falling down. Maul looked almost bored as he watched and didn’t flinch as Anakin did as they hit the ground with a thud. Maul had put forth no effort in his spree, but the thought didn’t deter Anakin from hurtling his own spell while he had the element of surprise.

“Stupify,” He tried to be quiet about it, but his spell still missed the man by a few centimeters. Maul had noticed him much sooner, by the way he just stood there, watching him like a predator would its prey.

“So you have the dignity to fight your own battles,” He flicked his wand and Anakin dodged, jumping onto a staircase as it pivoted past him. Maul stepped casually onto his own and they both spun around each other before their stairs clicked into place. Anakin held his ground, aiming to stay as far away as he could from the man. There were things he wanted answered and he surely didn’t come here to lay down and die.

“I want to know what you did to my mum!” Anakin yelled before sending out another stunning spell and missing narrowly. Maul was still unperturbed by this and stepped onto another staircase.

“What would I care about your mother?” Maul asked with a sneer.

Anakin’s heart leapt, he must be lying, “Y-you took her! I know you did!” He shouted, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. He sent off a quick chain-cast, aiming to disarm Maul, at least then there wasn’t much damage he could do. Maul reflected it like it was a particularly pesky fly and Anakin’s spell slammed into the wall, showering debris all around them.

“I didn’t take your mother, boy,” Maul sent a spell knocking Anakin’s wand out of his hand and causing it to tumble down the steps. He shrunk back as Maul took each step down to him incredibly slowly, “But once you’ve been erased from this earth,” He grinned, sharp teeth grinding together in a hideous display, “I’ll send her to find you.”

Maul’s wand was moving and in a last-ditch attempt at living, Anakin rushed forward, jumping at Maul and trying to rip his wand out of his hand. Maul growled, a low dangerous sound before shoving Anakin off. Anakin stumbled, but managed not to fall just in time for Maul’s foot to come crashing into his chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

He landed hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs, but in the dust kicked up he managed to locate his wand before Maul could aim again and he sent out another desperate spell.

His heart sank as Maul simply stepped aside to dodge such a thing. This wasn’t how he wanted his life to end. He’d thought he’d be avenging his mother, locating her, being a hero. He was the Chosen One, he thought he could live through anything.

Maul raised his wand.

Anakin thought of his friends who he’d come to love like family. He thought of magic and all he had yet to learn. He thought of his mother, out there somewhere waiting for him.

***

There were bodies upon bodies lining the walls, all aurors, and all dead by Maul, presumably. Obi-Wan didn’t look as he went, not needing the horrifying distraction at the moment. These men and women gave themselves over to protect them and were treated like dominos to be knocked over in a chain reaction, all leading to-

-He came to an abrupt halt from his sprint, brain whirring as it tried to catch up to what his eyes saw to the left on the grand staircase. It was a body, and not just any body, but Anakin, small and limp at the bottom, completely unmoving. And just three flights up, completely shrouded in black save for his fiery face, was Maul.

“Stay away from him!” Obi-Wan shouted, drawing his attention immediately. Time only continued when he noticed Anakin’s chest moving up and down where he lay. All hope was not lost yet.

That was not to say that they were anywhere near out of the woods. The dementors had entered the space, but even this offered Obi-Wan no false hope. In fact, by the way they hovered beside him with a slight green glow surrounding their usual complete blackness, it was like they obeyed Maul somehow, serving the very opposite purpose than what was programmed of them. 

Maul’s wand was sleek and smooth and undoubtedly did not belong to him originally. Obi-Wan knew enough about the clearances distributed by the Ministry that it belonged to an officer of some kind. He didn’t want to picture what happened to its original owner. Obi-Wan always struggled with conjuring patronuses, but if there was ever a time to learn, there was nothing like the present. He had to force his hand not to shake as he outstretched it, hoping he didn’t look as young as he felt.

He tried to channel happiness and positivity in a moment like this, in order to create the bright light needed to banish these dementors away, but every time a spark felt as though it might kindle, the gravity of their situation snuffed it out.  

Maul said nothing, just as he hadn’t in Hogsmeade, but he did bear a full mouthful of yellow-stained teeth that matched the glowing eyes that appeared hollowed out in his skull. There was only hate and suffering behind those eyes, never a day of love or care. If Anakin’s life weren’t on the line, Obi-Wan might have felt sorry for him.

He knew the moment he made a move for the boy, Maul would only charge, but they couldn’t remain in this uneven standoff forever. Literally, they could not, because the stairs would not hold still for anyone, not even for the theatrics of a bloody lunatic. So, while it felt like a longshot, it also seemed like his only shot.

Obi-Wan took the leap, dashing to the end of the stairs, tumbling and grabbing Anakin on the way, just as the stairs moved and swiftly knocked them at an alarming velocity towards another shifting staircase. As predicted, when he moved, Maul moved, but not fast enough and stumbled as the stairs shifted, toppling over a railing in the process. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin sat up and rubbed his head. 

He quickly inspected the boy, satisfied that there was no blood, but there would definitely be a large bump on his head from whatever fall he’d taken. They didn’t have time to dilly dally. They had to go. He grabbed Anakin by the hand and pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs to the ground level, flickering his eyes up to notice the dementors closing in on them like nightfall. 

For a brief moment, as the dementor positioned itself ready, Obi-Wan saw the future of Hogwarts as it was to be should Maul truly claim the school. He saw destruction, fire, betrayal, hate. He saw so much hate in the form of enraged yellow eyes. He couldn’t seem to feel his hands or his feet as the tunnel of darkness closed in on him. There was no life, there was no hope, there was no purpose. 

All he wanted was for it to be over… Just put him out of his misery. 

Why hadn’t Maul claimed them yet?

He saw his friends suffering at his failure. He saw the school itself burning to the ground. Cody was on the ground of the castle, a fiery hole in his chest that hadn’t cooled, unmoving and unblinking. Satine was surely next as she sobbed alongside him. Everything was painted in gray. 

In the reflection of the green aura that tainted the dementors’ ragged cloaks, he met Anakin’s equally disillusioned gaze. That spark that refused to ignite earlier dragged like flint on steel and rubbed rapidly, starting to warm him up and remind him not of the bright spots of life, but of what he’d come here to do.

Positioning himself in front of Anakin, Obi-Wan yelled, “Expecto Patronum!” 

Only an azure burst of light did not come from the tip of his wand, but somewhere above the dementors, taking the form of a beautiful blue and florid owl before circling and encompassing the dark phantoms with a blinding light. In the process, it knocked Maul backwards up a staircase and bolting forwards towards the person responsible. 

He knew that patronus. 

“Qui-Gon!” Anakin pointed up even further, where Obi-Wan’s mentor had thoroughly derailed Maul’s plans of following them by engaging in a violent trade of green and red bouts of magic back and forth, dancing along the stairs rhythmically, away from them, as though they were partners in an arranged production. Glass windows shattered and more dementors joined the game, never once standing a chance for Qui-Gon Jinn, though Maul proved himself quite the martial artist. 

“We’ve got to help him!” Anakin began to move, which stalled Obi-Wan from his shocked reverie and he grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“No, you’ve got to get to safety!” Obi-Wan said and held him close to his face, “You are in no shape to be fighting a Sith lord.”

“Neither is he!” Anakin pointed out the obvious, which was that Maul’s aggressively acrobatic fighting style was only going to wear Qui-Gon out should they continue to edge towards a dead end. Qui-Gon would have very little room to maneuver and parry should they corner themselves in a tower or a narrow walkway. “And neither are you.”

“I have to help him.” Obi-Wan said, “It’s the only way.”

He couldn’t explain it too, because it just felt like he needed to push forward. The logical thing to do would be to run back to Ravenclaw tower with Anakin in tow and reunite with his friends in safety, but he was drawn to the fight and not for any sense of bloodlust, but refined purpose. 

“I won’t let you!” Anakin cried, “It’s my fault!”

“Like hell it is!” Obi-Wan chastised and shoved him forward, “You are in control of your own actions, not Maul’s. The only action you should be doing is getting the hell out of here.”

“But-”

“No but’s, Anakin! If you never listen to me again, listen to me now: run. Hide. Get help, whatever, but you stay as far away as your little legs can carry you, alright? You are the future of tomorrow. This is only today.”

It wasn’t what he promised Qui-Gon, but if Anakin was away from Maul, he was safe, so if Obi-Wan could help delay that, he would. 

“Where?”

“Exactly where you need to be,” He said.

“I can never get those stupid riddles!”

“Trust me, you will.” Obi-Wan said. “Just run.”

“And what about you?” 

“I’m right behind you,” Though as they stared at each other, they both knew it was a lie. With tears staining his cheeks, Anakin nodded and ran in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan watched him until he was far enough away before turning and racing back up the steps again. Just as he did, they began moving, knocking Obi-Wan around rather roughly and almost backwards again, but he kept running and even dove forward to catch the next staircase by the hand.

For a moment, he was suspended above by only one hand, forcing himself to use all the strength in his body to lift himself and keep climbing.

Qui-Gon and Maul kept moving, the sound of glass shattering in their wake. 

***

Against every fiber of his being that told him to stay and fight, Anakin ran. He aggressively swiped tears from his eyes with his arm as he did so, trying to keep his vision as clear as possible. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. Gryffindor’s common room was the other way and he would never understand the Ravenclaw riddle to get in.

Obi-Wan had only told him to go, but not where, though he’d looked at him with conviction as though he had given him a clue. Anakin was far too distressed to think of any clues. Fear swelled in him, as he considered what his two mentors were sacrificing in order to protect him, to protect the future. They believed in him, but he didn’t quite believe in himself at the moment. Maul was going to tear through this entire school and if there was one thing that was proven, it was just how inescapable that was. 

He was supposed to be a hero, but he was trying to escape. It had always been the plan, but he’d never expected to have to do so alone. He was supposed to save them all, but he’d learned the hard way that he was no match for Maul.

His feet rapidly hit the ground, never once breaking stride as he tred onward. There was only so far he could go before he ended up right back where they were. He needed a place where no one would find him. He needed a safe haven. 

But between the Zillo Beast, Dooku, and now Maul, he’d learned that there was no real sense of security in this wizarding world. It was fantastic in both the best and worst ways possible, with no room for the mundane quiet of peace. Anakin never typically cared when it didn’t involve a sadist breaking in and trying to murder him. 

As he rounded a particularly sharp corner and briefly considered hiding in an empty classroom under a desk or in a chest, his eyes went round as he noticed not one, not two, but three dementors lingering near the dungeons. Slytherin’s common room was nearby, but they’d never let him in.

“Skywalker, what the hell are you doing?” Windu dropped in from seemingly nowhere, banishing the now mob of dementors that were swirling around them like a tornado. 

“They’re everywhere!” He yelled.

“How did this happen?” Windu asked.

“Maul turned them against everyone! I don’t know how!”

Windu grimaced as they closed in on them and kept Anakin close as he flipped his cape to the side and valiantly pointed his wand with the lethal confidence of someone who had done it many times before. From Windu’s wand, a glowing blue ram burst through the wall of spinning black to create a pocket just big enough for Anakin.

“Run!” He shouted and once again, Anakin obeyed. 

He needed to make sure he paid attention if he got to live to see the day patronuses were taught in school. Clearly, it was going to be an important lesson and one that Obi-Wan didn’t quite grasp yet.

Other professors were on the front lines of this massive fight against dementors whether inside or outside. Anakin leapt around one that was trying to suck the face off of Professor Ki-Adi Mundi, but was immediately banished by the vigilant Professor Shaak Ti. He never received more encouragement to keep pushing forward and away than he did in that moment.

Who would help Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan? Who would save them if all of the other professors were trying to handle the immediate threat of the dementors turning on them? His heart started to rattle as he kept going, approaching a dead end and slinking against the wall. The dementors came quicker than he anticipated even possible. Their long and bony fingers reached for him, ready to pull him into his own worst nightmares imaginable and to make them living realities. He’d snuck many horror movies in his time, but he’d never seen anything worse than them. 

Where was it written that the Chosen One would need a soul to save the universe? Nowhere, it would seem, because this didn’t qualify as death, but a fate worse than. He pointed his wand out, hoping he could also learn the patronus charm on the fly, but felt the immediate disconnect between his words and his wand. They were just words in the end.

He pressed himself against the door, never wishing more than to be anywhere but here. He wished he could have found where Obi-Wan was referring. He needed it. He needed that refuge if he was going to be brave and if he was going to fight back one day.

He needed- To open his eyes?

Because once he did so, he realized that he was in a completely different room that he’d never seen before. It wasn’t empty, exactly. There were old books stacked on some rickety tables. Cobwebs lined the portraits on the walls that chatted amongst themselves. They stopped dead in the middle of conversation when they spotted Anakin.

“Er- Sorry for interrupting.” He said with a wave.

“Who the blazes are you?” The dusty portrait of a man with dark hair and light brown skin frowned deeply at Anakin. 

“Don’t be rude, Master Ketu.” The hooded man in the portrait opposite to him nodded at Anakin, “Congratulations.”

“Do you even know what’s going on out there? There’s nothing to be congratulated for,” He said.

“Boy, have you no concept of what you have uncovered?” The man called Ketu pressed, his arms crossed over the numerous medals of honor that hung from his neck. 

Anakin looked around him, “Uh… A dirty old classroom?”

He pinched his nose, “I swear, these children grow more ungrateful by the years.” 

“To be fair, we haven’t seen a new child in over a century.” The other man said placatingly, “And there’s no way he can be worse than him. I am Ters Sendon, archivist and historian and this is Master Ketu, former leader of the old Je’daii order.”

“Je’Daii?”

“He hasn’t even heard of us.” Scoffed Ketu.

“An old group of warrior wizards who used to combat the ancient Sith during the old wars.” Ters said and Anakin gasped when he lifted off his hood to reveal horns protruding from his head just as Maul’s did. “What is it?”

“You’re… You’re like him!” Anakin backed away, nearly stumbling over a stray chair as he did, “You’re like the Sith lord that’s currently taking over our school!”

“I’m no Sith!” He protested.

“You look like him?”

“So? Sith is not a race, it’s a religion.” Ters said, “There are good people that look like me and plenty of bad people that look like you.”

Anakin considered that and realized as he looked at Ters Sendon that he didn’t bear any of the malicious traits that Maul had. There was no hate radiating off of his gaze, no yellow or orange to his eyes, no hostility in his voice. He didn’t even really look like Maul aside from the horns. As opposed to a stark red and black patterned face, Ters was more the color of leather, with beige swirls around his eyes and nose.

Ketu, not nearly as bored as he was before, stroked his black goatee, “You mean, the Sith have returned?”

“I’m supposed to defeat them someday.” Anakin said, “I’m the Chosen One. Or at least… I’m supposed to be, but I’m hiding…”

“Well, you’re much too young to fight a Sith, my boy.” Ketu said.

“Everyone’s been saying that and I know that, but how can I let other people take the fall for me?”

“Take it from someone who has seen plenty of golden haired heroes that were supposed to be chosen for greatness, you must accept that they are not fighting for you.”

“Ketu! How is that helpful?” Ters asked.

“Because it removes the pressure that comes with the position. Everyone has their place in this war, but you… You must survive. You must survive so that many others can live.” He fixed Anakin with a stern look, “That is why the Room summoned you.”

“The room?” Anakin looked around, “This place is special?”

“The Room of Requirement manifests itself only to students who truly need it.” Ters explained, “In your case, it’s to hide from this dastardly foe that breached your school.”

“If only I were alive… I’d bring this Sith to his knees.” Ketu sighed wistfully. 

“I can’t just sit in here and wait!” Anakin yelped, his voice echoing around the room. 

“Clearly, whatever you were running from had outnumbered you. You were whiter than a ghost.” Ters said, “And I’ve seen many ghosts.”

“Ghosts can come in here?”

“Not here, no.” Ketu shook his head, “We are the only portraits in the school that cannot move, but in our time, there were ghosts too.”

“Why can’t you move?”

“We must protect the integrity of the room,” Ters explained, “And a good thing too, because the last boy would have destroyed the place to prevent anyone else from finding it.”

“The magical enchantments were too powerful for him then, thankfully,” Ketu whistled, “I wonder where he got off to…”

“We need to get more people in here, to protect them!” Anakin said. “How can I let others follow me?”

“I think they may be safer where they are.”

Anakin wasn’t so sure. 

***

Qui-Gon had but one clear goal when parrying and deflecting the onslaught of fast green bolts that erupted from Maul’s wand: get him out of the castle. Hopefully, from there, other professors stronger than he could prevent him from entering again. Qui-Gon was no fighter by nature. It took a great deal of strength and focus and connectivity with his inner peace to remain in line with Maul’s attacks. He was definitely no one’s first choice in fighting off a man who murdered countless aurors in his wake.

However, the moment he saw Maul and his possessed dementors hovering over Obi-Wan and Anakin, he knew that this would be his fight after all. 

He’d never faced anything like this in his life- growing up in a time of peace was like the beautiful summer and late fall that preambled a harsh winter. Well, the ruthless attempts at his head led by the tenacious Sith was more of enough proof that winter had arrived with the full impact of a blizzard at their heels. 

Qui-Gon tried to analyze and predict the Zabrak’s next attack, hoping that his strategic capabilities would balance him against the superior fighting style that was the combination of martial artistry and power. There was much hate that spewed from every fiber of Maul’s being, so personal that Qui-Gon almost took it as such. It was like every person who stood in his way somehow became Maul’s target enemy and it was obvious he wasn’t used to anyone lasting this long.

Well, Qui-Gon did have the high ground when he snuck up on Maul and took him off guard, effectively clipping the wings that the dementors brought him. He wouldn’t even begin to question how he’d did it, save for that it was obviously an ancient magic known to the Sith. As they crossed the archway to the empty Great Hall, veering away from the direction of the student dormitories to Qui-Gon’s relief, and Maul was allotted true space to spew knives and broken shards of glassware towards him at once, Qui-Gon realized why this man hid all year.

He did not hide to feel out their positioning or to even tease them. Any of that had only been a cherry on top for the malignant evil before him. No, Maul waited it out to grow, to improve his strengths, to ready himself for this fight, because regardless of the ease at which he slipped through their clenched fists, he still expected a grave one.

“Protego!” Qui-Gon shouted numerous times in numerous directions, shielding himself from every blow Maul flung at him, but dodging an incoming killing curse as well. 

That was going to leave a mark on the walls. 

The candles came crashing down, bathing the entire room in a gray hollowness that he wasn’t used to, but didn’t ponder. It was only fitting that a Sith was trying to take everything good about this place with him. Well, he wouldn’t have it, not on his watch, anyway.

Their beams collided, his disarming and Maul’s for the kill, creating the collaboration of blinding green and red at the middle. It resembled a golden snitch at the heart of the contact, but despite having dueled Dooku just last year, Qui-Gon felt his arm, and eventually his whole body by extension, growing weak. Dooku had been going easy on him and he knew it. Maul would do no such thing.

Maul tapped further into his heat, bearing a tight grin as he pushed harder, showing just what the dark side could do, but Qui-Gon did not and would not envy his pain or his suffering that led him to such darkness.

“You were just a child, did you even get to choose?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to possibly tap into any shred of humanity left within the empty cavern that took place of Maul’s soul. That included, bringing up a history Maul did not want to remember. 

“You don’t know me.” It only emboldened his opponent’s attack, making the push and pull of their tug of war look a great deal more green than red. 

“Perhaps, I do. We were students here once, right? At the same time even.”

Maul remained silent and focused. He would not monologue for Qui-Gon. It seemed he was the sort of foe not worth quarreling with. 

“Give me the boy.” Was all he said.

“I cannot do that.” Qui-Gon shook his head.

“Then you will die.” He smiled. 

Sweat gathered at his temples as he pushed harder, channeling the peace that existed in harmony at his core, willing the spark to burn brighter than it ever had. If not ever again, now would be the moment.

It was not looking good. 

Until, an unprecedented blast of blue sent Maul skidding across the table, sliding into every stray glass and plate that had been left in shambles on the way. He was up and charging within a matter of seconds, which was remarkable on its own right, but this also meant that Qui-Gon didn’t have much of a second to breathe or consider that the wizard that entered the room was not a colleague or auror, but Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Obi-Wan!” He shouted and moved to jump in front of him to be a last standing shield from Maul, as if that would do anything, but the boy was quick and immediately took to pursuing Maul with his own attacks.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said.

“But I am, and we can talk about this later, no?” Obi-Wan gritted as Maul whipped out a second wand from his utility belt and let his robe drift to the ground. It seemed he came prepared for this very situation. It was a very unfortunate way to learn Maul was ambidextrous as he was just as proficient with his left hand as he was his right and was able to perform the same spell from two wands.

“We definitely will.” Qui-Gon fired back, but had to concede that the very last thing they needed to be doing to get out of here was arguing with each other. Not to mention, a very small part of him couldn’t help but be proud of Obi-Wan’s prowess for being so young. 

He’d never seen him like this before- so sure of himself and so determined, as well as so underdressed. His robe and jumper were completely discarded somewhere along his way here and the sleeves of his collared shirt had been pushed up. While still wearing the tie that symbolized his house with pride, he suddenly looked much older than the boy he knew. 

Even more than that, he successfully and quickly reflected Maul’s own curse back on him, sending the Sith dizzily stumbling around, though never once losing speed. 

With Obi-Wan at his side, he was able to take Maul on at a more even level, even with the two wands. He and his mentee practiced in sync together. They’d never formally fought alongside each other, but where Qui-Gon moved, Obi-Wan moved, and the two took to dejecting each and every distant move displayed by Maul.

That was not to say it was easy, of course. Between the physicality and ferocity of Maul’s magical and non-magical aggression, it was still throwing the both of them through the ringer. Obi-Wan’s face was red, but laser focused and never relieved with pride if he managed to land some sort of attack. 

They left out the doorway they came and through the third floor corridor, only further exhausting themselves the smaller the quarters became. Maul began to literally bounce off the walls, running up them and doing backflips to dodge and alternatively, to gain traction. As his history showed, he wasn’t purely invested in the magical portion of a fight, but the physical combat as well. 

Up the stairs they went to the very top, a difficult task when Maul decided to turn the steps into slippery goo in his wake and fire on the railings. Qui-Gon had learned the latter of that sequence on his own the hard way. Obi-Wan charged ahead, more athletic than he gave himself credit for, and twice as brave. It was a lethal combination, though not one Qui-Gon would fool himself into believing would be enough to seizing Maul completely. They needed to distract him until Windu found them.

They needed help.

Maul was quite pressed when Obi-Wan managed a leg-locker spell on him, though it was only one leg by his aim. It wasn’t his fault, since Qui-Gon had to shove him aside to avoid wand arrows that came straight for his head. 

Even still, there was no doubt that they were fighting better together. 

The ceiling of the pointed tower crumbled, specs of dust and later actual pieces of infrastructure raining down on them and hurrying their pace. When reaching the small bridge that connected the two towers, Maul blasted the center as he ran ahead.

“Where’s he going?”

“The classrooms, it seems.” Qui-Gon answered as he tried to catch his breath. “Anakin-”

“-Is safe.” He said with resounding certainty, his blue eyes sharper than glass as he regarded him with shoulders back and his jaw squared. He was still shorter than Qui-Gon, but it was evident now more than ever that he was a child no longer. Yes, Obi-Wan was ready. Or was it that he had no choice but to be ready?

It pained Qui-Gon’s very soul, because children fighting the battles of adults never soothed him. They leapt over the chasm and through the already crumbling tower that dwindled all the way down, catching Maul at his heels after a few flights of rapidly following suit. He was either leading them to the belly of his trap or he was trying to shake them. Qui-Gon didn’t know how that spoke for their success as his opponents, but was willing to take any wins offered to them.

They were far from finished in their pursuit, as the tower began to physically shake back and forth. Taking this battle to heart, or whatever stood in place of it, Maul turned, charging up the stairs with a sword at hand pointed straight at them.

On instinct rather than through thought, Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan hard against the side of the wall, narrowly preventing him from meeting the tip of the blade. 

“Stupefy!” He yelled, but missed and Maul went for the younger man again, a tight smile on his lips as he flipped forwards against the current of gravity and spun the sword straight towards them. Obi-Wan, who was stronger than he looked, caught Maul’s wrist before the finality of the attack could be completed. Using his entire body weight, he flung them down, doing his own half-assed little stunt to avoid being stabbed. 

Qui-Gon seized his moment to attack, turning the coat of arms by the doorway onto Maul, giving them three fighters on their side. This didn’t stop Maul, who only seemed delighted by the challenge and swung at the ground to encourage it.

Obi-Wan scrambled off the ground in time and trotted alongside Qui-Gon as the knight moved forward and Maul backed himself up to the wall of the rounded tower, clashing his sword with the knight’s, meeting every swing with one of his own caliber. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, meanwhile, tried to use this brief moment of distraction to their advantage and fired whatever spells could come to their mind. 

Obi-Wan had gotten even more creative and used a tongue fattening spell, likely trying to limit his airway.

It didn’t seem he even minded the limited mobility, though it only seemed to anger him that he was wasting his time. Maul had the advantage, being alive, but the knight had nothing to lose. Sometimes, that wasn’t a strength. 

In a fit of unbridled rage, which was the only way either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan could describe what transpired next, lightning rang through the sword and Maul leapt into the air, bringing the blade straight through the empty head of the knight and using the momentum of this force to fling the still sparking helmet towards them, hitting Obi-Wan directly in the stomach and sending him flipping over the railing with the added help of Maul diving forward to punch him square in the face. 

“Immobulus!” Qui-Gon hollered, pointing his wand at Obi-Wan’s collapsing body just before he could hit the bottom stone at full-force. He was knocked out, nothing more, or maybe that’s what Qui-Gon needed to convince himself to continue edging through this battle.

The sword came down, achieving not a speck of flesh, but slicing Qui-Gon’s wand clean in two against the marble railing to their right. It was the closest he’d ever been to Maul and he understood why few wanted to approach him. He could feel the turmoil within this shell of a man, who was only driven by his own hate. He was like a walking timebomb who was expected to walk the earth like a person.  

“When I’m done with you, I’ll kill the kid too,” Only he wasn’t referring to Anakin, but Obi-Wan.

“You won’t have the chance,” Qui-Gon said and kicked up his foot to toss the former knight’s sword into own hand. He was taught to wield by Count Dooku long ago, adopting many different tactics. It had always been in a gentlemanly fashion before, but Maul knew no such artistry or decency in this field. He was a predator and while he may have been playing with his food, he would still want nothing more than to collect the prize.

They backed out of the exit, Qui-Gon pursuing Maul as their blades clinked and clanked at rapid speed, each performing offensively without any pauses or breaks. Qui-Gon took his first success as they approached the classrooms and he managed to knock one of Maul’s wands free and clattering onto the ground. The Sith swordsman paid no mind, flipping backwards and inviting Qui-Gon to chase him into yet another trapped space.

He knew he was better where he could be afforded more breathing room, but at the moment, this was not a battle where Qui-Gon dictated the rules. Rarely, did the heroes get to do much of that in history. It was all about adaptivity and believing in oneself and the magic that lay within them. 

“I am one with magic and the magic is within me.” He chanted on a harmonic loop inside his head, ignoring every fiber of his being that broke apart as they crashed through Professor Palpatine’s office of all places.

Perhaps, he was trying to pay a visit to his favorite professor. He looked disappointed even through the mask of focused disdain that he wasn’t present. He would never have known that Anakin might have been hiding here, after all. He lingered around the castle for a little while, but not long enough to see the students interact. 

Thinking a bit like his enemy, Qui-Gon seized the weakness, going in for an elongated stalemate of the inner strengths, bringing them up close and personal.

“Who do you work for?” He asked calmly.

He knew that nothing splintered more than serenity or moreover, when their dastardly deeds took no effect on their desired target. Predictably, Maul clenched his yellow teeth to bare.

“I work for no one.” He scowled and shoved them apart, spinning and beginning a new onslaught of attacks that Qui-Gon met and dodged. The dodged shots ended up as holes that would need to be patched later and each designated attack seemed to chip away at him more and more.

Maul might have possessed an eternal source of energy from the cruelty at his very core, but he did not envy him for it.

They shuffled onto the external viaduct, which stretched back to the courtyard outside the Great Hall again, back towards the common rooms. He couldn’t let that happen. Qui-Gon knew that this was it. This long stretch of smooth stone that expanded over the chasm beneath them, was where this needed to end.

As if reading his mind, Maul closed in on him, making Qui-Gon overshoot a swing and nearly set himself off balance. Maul’s sword came down hard on the stone balustrade to their side, cracking it with the power and magical tenacity it contained, before retracting and kicking Qui-Gon in the sternum.

He rolled, backwards, and landed on his feet just in time to collide blades harshly, feeling like the swords might break if they strike again. This didn’t stop either of them and Qui-Gon desperately tried to seek out a window to take the advantage. And then, he found it. Maul’s gloved finger twitched just as he was reaching for his other wand- a dirty trick in a match of the blades, but Dooku might have done the same in his modern state. 

Luckily, Qui-Gon didn’t necessarily need a wand. 

He snatched the wand from midair by the sheer willpower of doing so.

“Petrificus Totalus!” And while Maul leapt to the ground, his frame stilled in the air as he caught the end of the charm, hitting the ground hard with his sword stuck frozen in hand.

He let out a heavy breath of relief. He pointed the wand at Maul and tossed the blade to the side and knelt over him. Only the man’s face could move, so he didn’t grow too close at risk of literally being bitten, but Qui-Gon looked at him sternly.

“What business do you have with the boy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Maul chuckled lightly, “To destroy him.”

“But for what? Because he’s a threat to you?”

“No,” He would have shaken his head if he could, “Because he’s a threat to all of us.”

Qui-Gon frowned, “That- No, he will bring about an end to monsters like yourself and whatever master you refuse to name.”

“Don’t you see?” Maul said, “He is the monster.”

The words trickled through Qui-Gon’s ears like rain hitting the hard sidewalk. That couldn’t be true. He was to bring balance. Though, it was never exactly said how. It couldn’t be. The prophecy spoke of a united world and for the hero, which was Anakin, to prevail at great sacrifice.

Or at least, that’s how he interpreted it after much studying. 

“That cannot be.”

“It has been written in fate. I have seen it,” And by the legitimate fear that plagued Maul’s gaze, he could tell the Sith was not lying about having been exposed to a plethora of horror, “He is but the pawn in a greater plan. Just like you and just like me.”

“He’s so much more than either of us,” Qui-Gon shook his head, keeping the wand steady at his throat, poking the skin ever so slightly. “Especially you.”

“I am merely trying to save us all,” Maul begged, “Just as you think you are. We are not that different. Skywalker isn’t either.”

“Anakin is the hero of this story, not you.” Qui-Gon said, determined now, “I will see to that.”

“No,” And just as quick as he fell, he moved too fast for Qui-Gon to even blink and the sword that had seemed frozen in time was thrust right into the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach. Immeasurable pain soaked through him as he felt blood from all over rush through him and a varying list of parables cross his mind.

Maul brought him so close that their noses touched, “You won’t.” 

He unsheathed the sword from the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach and let him fall backwards, hitting the stone unceremoniously as sound seemed to fall behind in slow, deep motions. The blood rushed from his body and breathing suddenly became labored beyond measure. He was faced with warm sunlight, though he found himself only growing colder by the second. Slowly, the bright blue around the high sun was becoming a tunnel and getting fuzzier. The pain in his stomach was less aching as it was dull and detached from him. He saw stars and galaxies and far more than the human eyes could see.

He saw blackness that occluded the stars and realized strangely that it was a man in a dark cape. This was Vader, he knew somehow, but he couldn’t quite explain why. But there was more and as he looked into the stars that gathered in the eyes of his helmet, he saw the fates for what they were. There was so much loss in this montage of multiple realities that spawned in front of him. There was agony, hate, betrayal, death. So so much death beyond his own.

It was strange, to realize that he was dying and to not really care about the logistics of that. Instead, he cared for what he saw next: happiness, love, family, weddings, babies, revolution against an unjust cause, rebirth. 

He saw the back of a man with white hair and a beard to match and while his heart initially spoke to him of his mentor, he found that the eyes that turned to meet him matched another that would grow to be wiser than them all.

He saw the good in the blond boy that everyone else feared. He saw the duality of the young brunette who was capable of far more than her small stature dictated. He saw friends he did and didn’t know. He saw them all come together and he saw them win. It was an imperfect future, full of not one, but many heroes. 

Some that were chosen ones merely by their own volition. That fact settled hard and heavy. There was still much obscurity to meet the hope. Nothing, even at these far reaches of the universe, was written in stone. If there was one thing that was clear: Anakin was the key. 

And in a flash he was back for a moment, given one last breath of life and to meet the tear stained eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He failed. But there was still hope. 

***

“NO!” His cry was anguished and angry, his vision red like the blood dripping off the blade. He had already been running, hurrying to catch up with his mentor, not willing to leave him alone with that monster for more than a second longer than necessary.

He clearly hadn’t been fast enough.

He sprinted, faster still, wand automatically raised and flourished. A crack was heard as red light burst from his own wand and slammed into Maul, knocking him back a few feet and causing his sword to fly from his hand and over the bridge. He hadn’t even uttered the words, but his wand seemed to read his mind, connect with him and in this brief moment of connection, he hurtled as many spells as he could think of.

It was a dance of light. Maul had managed to pull his own wand out and was doing a fair job at blocking each colorful strike, but had yet to get an opening to counter. Obi-Wan tossed another stupify at Maul and it hit his protective spell so hard sparks flew.

“You’re too late,” Maul kicked a loose stone towards him, managing to distract him long enough that Maul could send a killing curse his way. He just managed to block it, the green spell falling apart just inches from his face. He staggered backwards nearly falling over the edge before launching another volley of attacks.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Obi-Wan growled, although the pang in his chest reminded him of what he’d seen, what he hadn’t been fast enough to stop. He cast a smoke spell causing them both to be hidden within a dark cloud. Obi-Wan crept silently to the side, the only real chance he had was to catch Maul off guard. Just a few more steps-

A gust of wind kicked up from the center of the cloud blowing away the smoke screen and revealing an almost smug looking Maul. He grinned wildly, his yellow eyes gleaming like a tiger going for the kill.

Obi-Wan just managed to dodge as the spell Maul hurled blew a hole through the already crumbling parapet. He returned the favor with another stunning charm that did little more than knock Maul off balance.

Obi-Wan, however, took the opportunity rushing forwards a curse on the tip of his tongue before Maul fell backwards slamming a foot into Obi-Wan and kicking him back.

He stumbled to regain balance, but his foot slipped and time slowed as he desperately clawed for the edge of the bridge with his free hand. He swung there precariously, heart beating a mile a minute as he tried to think of something, anything. Maul grunted, he could only assume he was standing up again, making his way slowly towards what was surely Obi-Wan’s doom.

He looked to his wand, he couldn’t risk a spell, if he missed and hit the viaduct, he would surely be falling to his death. If he didn’t… Well he didn’t want to think of the terrible fate that would bring him. He swung his arm up, hand still gripping his wand, but allowing for him to pull himself up just high enough to see. Maul was approaching, wand twitching as he surely thought through every nasty spell he had at his disposal.

The dying sun came out from behind the clouds, reflecting its light off of something silver on the edge. A sudden burst of hope filled him as he whispered a series of spells that he hoped Maul took as nothing more than him praying for salvation.

Maul didn’t pause.

Obi-Wan dropped hold of the ledge flicking his wand upwards in order to soar up through the air landing behind Maul, just steady enough he was able to catch the silver sword, sapphires glittered across the bottom, a sight to behold if he weren’t busy lunging with it.

Maul had turned just in time to watch as Obi-Wan used every bit of strength, every bit of magic left in his body to bring the sword clear through his middle. The sadist had the decency to look surprised, shocked that he could be foiled by a scrawny 17 year old when so many had tried and failed before. Obi-Wan brought up his foot and kicked, returning the favor of pushing the Zabrak off the viaduct, he didn’t bother watching him fall.

The clatter of the sword falling out of Obi-Wan’s hand and onto the stone brought him out of his adrenaline induced daze and he turned his head almost robotically to where Qui-Gon still lay. He was breathing, but barely, each breath looked laborious even from afar.

“Qui-Gon!” One moment he was standing over where he committed a high wizarding crime and another he was on his knees next to his mentor. He ripped off his top layer and pressed over the wound desperately trying to stop the bleeding even though he could feel that his trousers were already being soaked through.

“No, no,” Qui-Gon batted his hands away, but it only gave Obi-Wan the determination to press harder.

“It’ll be alright, you’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan repeated to himself as he focused on the task at hand. A shaky hand caught his wrist and he tore his eyes away from the gore and met Qui-Gon’s deep blue eyes. Eyes normally filled with mystery and whimsy were focused just enough to quelm his fast-racing thoughts.

“Obi-Wan,” He pleaded, “Anakin-”

“Anakin’s fine!” Obi-Wan shook his head angrily, “I already told you he’s-”

“I need you to see that Anakin gets his training,” Qui-Gon grasped for his attention again and he gave it though he struggled too, “Anakin must become a wizard, he is the chosen one,” Qui-Gon spoke the words with a strong conviction as if he had been born with this knowledge and hadn’t found out along with the rest of them last year.

“Yes, sure, but Qui-Gon-” Obi-Wan tried, but froze when Qui-Gon struggled for a breath.

“Promise me Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon managed to pant, “Promise me you’ll see to it.”

“I promise,” He answered, they looked into each other’s eyes for a beat more before Obi-Wan returned to his task, wishing quite desperately that he’d gone with Satine to those first aid classes instead of the dueling club, “But don’t worry about that now, I-”

Qui-Gon’s breathing ceased.

There were no other sounds. He couldn’t hear the birds in the sky or the breeze through the trees; it was only silence. He felt his mouth form words, but couldn’t hear them. He moved his hands from Qui-Gon’s middle towards his shoulders shaking him once, twice, three times. He felt tears trailing down his face and he tried to wipe them away, likely just smearing his own face with the blood of both that murderer and of Qui-Gon. Merging the two of their beings together like they were twisted up into some horrifying cycle of fate. He pressed his head, body trembling, to Qui-Gon’s chest, praying to hear even an unsteady heartbeat.

All he could hear was silence.

He stayed there, unable to move and hardly unable to breathe at Qui-Gon’s side, sitting vigil for his mentor, his most trusted ally, the wisest man he knew. Eventually the bubble was bound to break and if it wasn’t Qui-Gon growing cold under him it was the hand that fell on his shoulder.

He flinched, whipping to the side prepared to fight another enemy, but his hands fell at the guarded look of Windu’s eyes. The professor tried to pull him away, but he broke out of his grasp with more strength than he’d thought he had left.

“Where’s Maul?” Windu crouched beside him, gently pressing Qui-Gon’s eyes shut. Obi-Wan couldn’t find it in himself to speak and he shook his head to try and convey that, but Windu just grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, “I need to know if he’s still around.”

“I ki-” He tried, voice croaky and ruined in his silence, “He’s gone. Dead.”

Professor Windu said nothing, just placed a hand on his back for a moment more before standing. He swished his wand, brilliant red and gold sparks bursting out and filling the night sky, announcing to all that they were finally safe. However, after the display of colors he did not lower his wand and instead kept it raised, the tip glowing softly in the night’s sky.

Professor Plo Koon was the next to join them, his eyes sad and mournful under the light of their two wands. Then one by one the professors arrived, each taking in the scene and lighting their wands in silence. Obi-Wan felt much too numb sitting there on his own, magic exhausted from the fight, to locate his own wand much less light it in honor. Qui-Gon had never been much for ceremonies anyways, but the thought brought him no comfort. 

The unspoken vigil ended as Headmaster Palpatine lowered his own wand, followed by Professor Windu. Obi-Wan was stood up by the latter, this time he found no fight left in him, and escorted towards the castle. He kept an eye on Qui-Gon’s body for as long as he could, but surrounded by the Headmaster and various professors it was impossible to see long before he crossed the threshold into the school.

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obitine #anidala #the clone wars #tcw #star wars #magical forces au #hpau