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allidoistrytrytryy · 1 year

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no other sadness in the world would do (neteyam x reader)

AO3 version if you prefer reading over there

part 1 part 2 (Neteyam and the sky girl, series)

summary: “don’t want no other shade of blue, but you” part 1 but it is neteyam’s point-of-view (with new moments)

warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, lots of angst tho, no use of y/n, confusing timeline, aged-up characters when it comes to present time, not canon-compliant

little note from author: i can’t stop writing... neteyam brainrot is too strong!!! thank you all for your reactions and love over part 1 and part 2. i have tons of other ideas. this series is inspiring me WAY too much. i’m deep into this shit.

Neteyam never thought he would feel this way for a person of the sky people.

Not that he grew up hating them, no, he didn't. His father came from them. Without them, he wouldn't even exist.

But his father looked and was Na'vi now. And you ? You looked nothing like they all did.

You were small.

You were a five-year-old, only a few months younger than he was, when you met.

You had been a little thing in your human clothes, sitting down with Kiri. (He had heard all about you from Spider though. His surrogate sister. The other human girl born and stuck on Pandora. He had been curious.)

He didn't know it, but in that moment, when you looked at him and at your hands, unsure of why you had even let Spider drag you to the forest, he had already felt protective. Protective of your mind and your spirit.

He wanted to put a smile on your face.

You were also...well...not blue. With strange ears, no tail and no queue.

(He had always felt sad for the lack of queue. When he was younger, he thought it was simply because he loved you as a friend. As he grew older, he realized otherwise. It was more. It had always been more.)

He remembered the way you would look longingly at them forming tsaheylu with a pa'li, and even more at the tsaheylu forming between them and an ikran.

Jake and Neytiri had let you be there as he took on the iknimaya. Lo'ak had also been there, as he was to take it only a year later.

He remembered your eyes on him. He also remembered almost failing, nervous, wanting to prove himself to you that he was a good hunter. (That he could protect you.).

He had tried not to be too distracted, making it through the iknimaya and riding his ikran. He had seen your look.

He always saw everything when it came to you. And that look ? He knew you wanted to ride an ikran with him. He wished you could.

He did the next best thing the minute he could fly freely. Neteyam took you, putting you in front of him, and flew with you.

Those were his favorite flights. The ones where he could feel you against him.

("Are you sure this is a good idea ?" You asked, slightly turning your head towards him.

"Do you not trust me, sky girl ?" He whispered in your ear with confidence.

You nodded, red spreading to your ears. Pretty.

You settled further into him and he couldn't help but gulp.

He could feel you pressed against him, your back to his chest.

Neteyam wanted to hug you so badly. Wanted to push his face into your hair and hug you as tight as you could handle. Hold you gently, stay close to you. He didn't though.

He was too scared to go past the lines you had created. Too scared to push too much and make you distance yourself further.)

He knew. He had always known.

Neteyam had always seen how you tried to distance yourself. How you pulled away. How you hesitated and thought you weren't supposed to be there, with them, with him.

You had this one look on your face. A look that told him you were overthinking. A look that said you were in pain.

He wanted to wipe it off your face every time, reassure you, tell you you were a part of this family too. But what could he do when his presence was the one thing hurting you ?

But he couldn’t stay away.

A hand was always reaching out for you, a shoulder brushing yours.

He could remember the heat of your shoulder and of your thigh against his, as you came to eat in the Omaticayas’ home, in his home. Your shy smile. The uncertainty until you settled slightly against him.

The distance grew smaller and smaller after that. You still had that look sometimes, but a Sully always popped you out of your bubble.

He always looked for you in any crowd, in any setting.

He loved seeing you with his siblings. Loved that you loved his family as much as he did.

(You had been declared the two responsible kids by Jake, to watch over the rest of the Sullys.

At sixteen and seventeen, Neteyam might have been the oldest but you weren’t. That didn’t change the fact that Jake saw you as more responsible than Spider...or Lo’ak.

Which Neteyam understood.

You never tried anything dangerous, well, not most of the time, unless Kiri or Lo’ak or Tuk dragged you into something.

Most of the time, you were watching over Kiri and something would happen.

One day, you followed her around as she had been lost in “her thing”. Neteyam had let you both go, trusting that you were both going to be okay in the forest.

You came back running, pulling Kiri behind you by the hand.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” You were screaming. “What’s going on ?” He asked, worried, already ready to defend you if he had to, bow in hand.

An angry 'angtsìk appeared, ready to charge again.

“How the hell did you get it to follow you all the way here ?” Lo’ak laughed and laughed even harder at the look on your face. “You know you’re supposed to just stand your ground and scare him away, right ?”

You groaned and narrowed your eyes at him. “Well, I’m not an 8-feet-tall Na’vi. I got scared, okay ?”

Lo'ak imitated you in a higher voice. You stuck out your tongue and Lo’ak stuck out his tongue back.

Neteyam rolled his eyes.

Kiri looked apologetic and kept saying that she was sorry as you waved her excuses away. “It’s okay, Kiri, really. We’re both okay and that’s all that matters.”

He got into action before the 'angtsìk could charge again. Standing his ground. Ready to charge himself in the animal.

It left as he heard you try to catch your breath.

“And my dad deemed you responsible.” Neteyam teased, his braids swinging with the turn of his head.

Your eyes turned up to his face fast, blood rushing to your cheeks. “Not my fault you’re the truly only responsible one of all of us.”

You avoided his eyes, looking everywhere on his face but them.

You had been watching him as he scared the 'angtsìk away. Pride swelled in his chest.

He could not care less about looks or talks in the clan. He cared about what his parents thought, what his family thought.

And he cared what you thought.

That was a part of how he realized his feelings. The way he always wanted your approval. Always wanted your eyes on him and him only. The way his eyes never left you.

He always tried to find you, anywhere and everywhere. He always looked and watched you and saw you.)

So the distance got smaller and smaller with the years.

Five and six years old, to seventeen and eighteen.

He watched you grow up, watched you integrate into his family fully, watched you taking care of Kiri and Tuk.

Watched as his father taught you. Watched as his mother taught you.

He was proud to see you stand your ground, bow in hand, arrows ready. He was proud to have you with him on hunts you would do together.

He was proud to have you with him. Proud to wear the beads you had put in his hair.

(“I don’t know if I even have the right to do this.” You whispered, beads you had prepared in your hands.

“You do. And I want to wear something of yours.” He said back, his hand settling under your chin to make you look at him.

You smiled and got closer. Neteyam pinched your ear to tease you. You swat at his shoulder and he laughed.

Your smile got even bigger.

He watched you the whole time, taking in your determination and concentration as you did it.

You were so close. He wished he could kiss you.

He wore the beads proudly later. Kept repeating they were yours.

“Shut up, Nete !” You exclaimed every time, your hands fidgeting together, shy.

He softly smiled every time.)

Proud to be the one you stayed close to.

He loved the nights when you would fall asleep on his shoulder, deep in the forest, just the two of you.

Neteyam would watch you sleep, watch your face underneath the mask. You looked so peaceful and beautiful under the stars.

He wished you could always stay like that, just the two of you. He wished he could keep you right there, in the crook of his shoulder and his neck. He wished he could keep your warmth right there.

But life didn’t work that way. Especially not for them and not for you two.

Neteyam was watching you make bracelets with Tuk and Kiri. Lo’ak and Spider kept grumbling beside him as they made the bracelets.

“Can you all skxawngs stop acting like kids for two seconds ?” He sighed with a shake of his head. “If you go outside again,” He pointed at Lo’ak who rolled his eyes. “mom and dad will be after my ass.”

Spider smirked and laughed. “Yeah, yeah, Neteyam is so responsible after all.”

Lo’ak also smirked and looked over at you. “It’s not at all because she wanted to stay with Tuk and Kiri so you have to stay too, right brother ?”

“I mean, he’s been stuck on this one bead for the past twenty minutes because he’s too busy being a responsible brother, and definitely not because his eyes have been stuck on someone.”

Neteyam grumbled. “You really are the two biggest dumbasses. Eywa, help me.”

Lo’ak snickered. You looked over and Neteyam instantly met your eyes. You raised an eyebrow (What’s wrong with him (again) ?). He just smiled and shrugged (It’s Lo’ak.). You softly laughed before Tuk took your attention again (“Should we go for blue or red ?” She asked, pushing the beads up to your eye level.).

“See ? Gone again. And having a creepy silent conversation with their eyes.” Spider commented, bumping his shoulder into Lo’ak’s.

“You are the biggest dumbass, big bro. Just say something to her, or one day I think you’re gonna explode with all your feelings.”

Neteyam shook his head and dropped down to a whisper. “You know I can’t. You know how she is, Lo’ak. And especially you Spider. Saying anything would scare her away.”

And he especially did not want that. He preferred keeping it all inside than losing you. If he kept it inside the limits, he kept you beside him as his closest person. If he didn’t define what you both were, what you both felt, you wouldn’t leave.

(He knew you felt the same as he did. He knew you saw him, the way he saw you. How could he not when all he did was observe you ?

He saw your looks, your smiles, your eyes. He knew you, knew what they meant. You didn’t look at Lo’ak or Spider that way. Or any other male of the clan. Only him.)

Spider sighed. “I know, Neteyam. I get it.”

Lo’ak put a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder before going back to his bracelet with a grumble.

Neteyam rolled his eyes again and went back to it too.

Loud noises erupted, breaking the peace. He jumped up, already outside in an instant.

Everyone followed closely.

He felt you get closer to him, as everyone looked.

The forest was on fire. Ships were coming down.

Sky people were back.

Kiri hugged Tuk close. Lo’ak was looking silently. Spider’s expression was somber.

And you, your tears started falling.

He hated it. They were back to destroy everything. He had never known the chaos they brought to the forest, only hearing stories from his parents, Mo’at, the clan, or other humans like Norm.

He had also gone to the lab sometimes, to see you and had seen the archives. Some images and scenes.

“You okay, sky girl ?” He asked, bending towards you, his hand on your back, rubbing gently.

You hid your face in his side, and he hugged you closer. You didn’t say anything and he hated it. Hated that they had put you in this state.

His parents came home quickly from their date, grief all over their faces. In the commotion, he didn’t feel you slip away.

He hugged his parents, his sisters, and his brother.

Jake looked at all of them. “We’re gonna be okay. It’s all going to be okay. Sullys stick together.”

They all nodded.

He realized you weren’t there anymore as they parted. “Kiri, did you see her leave ?” He asked as he looked everywhere around him.

Kiri also started looking around her, panic in her eyes. “No, I didn’t. I thought she was right there.”

He saw Spider a bit away, sat down, his eyes on the wall. But, no sign of you.

Shit. “I’m going after her. She must have gone home.”

He started leaving in a hurry before Neytiri caught his arm. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to go into the forest right now, Neteyam.” She softly said, still shaken.

Neteyam shook his arm from her grip. “And it is a good idea for her ? She’s all alone. I’m going.”

He saw the tortured look in his mother’s eyes and the regret. He didn’t pay attention.

He would always be the most behaved kid of all of them. Not when it came to you, though.

He quickly left and ran all the way to the lab. It wasn’t that far but it felt like hours getting there. His gut was telling him something was so very wrong.

He felt a pit in his stomach grow larger and larger as he grew closer to your home.

Norm in his human form was the one to greet him first in the lab as Neteyam took the mask.

He didn’t need to ask if you were home. He understood from Norm’s look that you were but that it wasn’t good. He walked to your door. Closed.

He knocked. “Hey, sky girl, it’s me. I...You left without telling anyone. Are you okay ?”

He waited and waited and waited. No answer.

The bad feeling grew and grew.

“Come on, just... I just need to know you’re okay. Tell me you’re okay.”

No answer.

He wanted to knock down the door, get in and not leave you alone with your thoughts. But he wouldn’t push.

You would come back. You would.

“I’ll leave you alone for tonight, okay ? I’ll be back. Rest well, sky girl.”

He stayed a few more minutes right in front of the door. He made no noise.

He finally heard you when you thought he was gone. Silent cries and small sobs that you were trying to hide.

Neteyam had never hated a door more.

He left.

He came back the next day. And the next. And the next.

He didn’t stop.

You never opened your door. You put up a wall.

You never showed up again, for weeks and months.

The other humans, Norm and Max, all moved with the Omaticayas in the mountains to be closer. To fight back.

You didn’t. You stayed in the original lab and in your room.

Neteyam was going crazy inside. He acted calm on the outside as the fighting back happened, as he had missions his father entrusted him with.

It helped to not think about you for a few hours. But when he did not have any mission, his only thoughts were about you. Were you okay ? Were you sleeping ? Were you eating ? Were you crying again ?

He knew Norm, Max, and Spider stayed most nights with you. He was grateful.

He knew you would go outside sometimes but never too far. Never too close to them, to him.

(“Norm, please, is she okay ?” He asked desperately one day as he tried to make you talk to him again.

Norm looked sad, a hand going through his hair. “She... she’s as okay as she can be, with everything. We make sure she eats and sleeps, though, do not worry.”

He nodded with a thankful smile.

A smile that wasn’t true. He felt like he couldn’t feel joy anymore. Not really.)

He missed you, more than everything. He missed your presence and your voice and your warmth.

Spider still came to visit. You didn’t.

“How is she ?” Neteyam asked another time, another day.

Every time, Spider would look saddened. He never brought good news.

“Same as always...”

Lo’ak grimaced.

Kiri had a hard time without her best friend. Tuk without her big sister. He saw it every day.

Kiri would have moments when she looked nowhere and it wasn’t her moments of getting lost. They were looks to her side, where you were supposed to be.

Tuk would send looks to the bracelet around her wrist, the one you had started with her, the one she had had to finish with Kiri alone.

“Big bro, it’s going to be okay. She’ll be back. We have to believe in that.” Lo’ak said, tugging on one of the braids that held your beads.

He wanted to believe in his baby brother’s words. But he felt more and more that you would never come back, that you would stay in your little room and he would never see you again.

He never stopped going to see you though. He couldn’t. There never was a thought in his mind, a part of him that would let him abandon you. You were a part of the Sullys, even if you wouldn’t accept it, and Sullys stuck together.

He wanted to call you a skxawng and smack you over the head for leaving. He wanted to hug you.

But, he thought he would never see you again.

On a mission with Lo’ak, as spotters, Lo’ak had wanted to do more. So the skxawng that he was jumped in the action.

Neteyam jumped in too to protect him. And got hurt in the process.

Their father had been angry and he had taken all the blame, again. He always did and always would. He was the oldest. He had to be responsible. He was the protector.

He could get so tired of the role, of the responsibilities. He would never show it to them.

He missed you.

(You were hugging him, his head fitting awkwardly in your neck, but he did not move. He didn’t want to.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’ll never be good enough, you know ? I try my best and try to protect everyone. Lo’ak especially but...”

You sighed. “Nete, you’re literally already one of the best hunters. You’re always there for them, for Lo’ak. Of course you’re good enough.”

He sniffled. “You’ve always been good enough. Your dad can be harsh but it comes from love. That’s just how he is but I know he’s proud of you. Your mom too.” You whispered, your hands rubbing his back. “Lo’ak loves you, he’s just... Well, you know how Lo’ak is. And Kiri and Tuk too, obviously. You’re their older brother.”

“But is it enough ?” He asked, unsure.

“It’s enough. You’re enough, Nete. You’re perfect the way you are.” Your hands continued their gentle path.

He wanted to fall asleep exactly like that, in this safe place. You were his safe place.)

As Mo’at tended to his wounds, Kiri disappeared and came back at some point to help her.

“Well shit, look who’s back !” Lo’ak screamed out.

His heart stopped.

He heard your voice.

Neteyam finally breathed again for the first time in months. Just with the sound of your voice.

He could feel your eyes on him. He didn’t turn back.

He could breathe again, but he could also feel the anger rising up. He had been so worried, so scared.

He didn’t turn until Mo’at said it was okay for him to move. He needed the time, needed to prepare to see you again.

He stood up and turned. There you were.

Your eyes under the mask watching him, unsure and worried and relieved.

He couldn’t stand it, the conflict of feelings he got from seeing you. The relief, the love, the anger.

Neteyam took your hand and led you away into the forest.

You finally talked to him. Finally told him why you left.

He had already known the reasons, honestly, but had needed to hear them from you. He had wanted you to give him a chance to speak with him.

He had felt like you had thought he wasn’t good enough. That this, you and him, weren’t good enough.

You were crying. He wanted to wipe your tears away, but he couldn’t.

“I hate myself, you know. Hate what I look like, hate what I am. Hate that I can’t escape it, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want to be a part of this, I will never be. People will only see that I’m...sky people.”

He couldn’t believe the words coming from your mouth. He knew you had always had a hard time with your identity, knew you felt like you didn’t belong, but hating yourself ?

How long had you kept this inside yourself ? What had you felt really for so many years ? Had he been so blind to the extent of it all ?

Neteyam gently took your face in his large hands. He was always so scared of hurting you.

“Not to us. Not to me. Never to me. You look like them, sure. You’re small, fragile, and all the colors are wrong. But, inside ? You’ve never been one of them. You’ve always been one of us. And I know you’ve tried not to be, ever since we were kids. You’ve always tried to distance yourself from us. But, you can’t.”

He truly believed in his words. You looked like them. He couldn’t deny it. (As much as he had dreamed, time and time again, of you as a Na’vi. Of flying together on ikrans. Of sharing the bond.) (He didn't care what you looked like honestly. He thought you were the most beautiful being.)

But you had never been sky people. Not ever since you were 5 years old. Not ever since you had entered their lives. Not ever since you had come into his life and made it all better.

“You’re with us, sky girl. You’re with me. I won’t let you go.”

He thought he would never let go again. He believed it as he wrapped his fingers around your hair and brushed your temples gently with his thumbs.

He believed it as you looked up at him and smiled softly, letting down the wall, and opening the door.

They would fight against sky people and you and he would live again, together, as you had always been.

But Quaritch came back. Attacked his family. Took Spider.

His father decided the only reasonable thing to do was to leave, flee far away, to protect both the clan and their family.

He hated the decision but shut up. This was his home. How could he leave it and be okay with it ?

But he would always go with what his father decided to do.

He saw the heartbreak in your eyes as he told you the decision his father had made. He thought it was the same heartbreak he had, over leaving home.

There had never been a thought of you not coming. Never.

He was a fool. A much-in-love fool, who had grown up with you and saw no problem in you coming.

Of course, you were coming. He wasn’t leaving without you.

Neteyam and you were together under the stars, one last night in the forest.

You were the only one he ever told the truth to. The extent of his thoughts.

“I don’t want to go.” He whispered into your shoulder, against the softness of your shirt.

“I don’t want you to go either, Nete but...you guys will come back.”

The answer dizzied him. “What do you mean, ‘you guys’ ?”

“Well, I mean you Sullys ?” You questioned. You tilted your head in question.

He couldn’t understand your words. Neteyam narrowed his eyes at you. What were you saying ?

“You’re coming, sky girl. So it’s a ‘we’.”

Your bitter scoff rang in his ears.

“You know I can’t come with you, Neteyam.”

Your words broke his heart. Made him angry. He wanted to cry and scream at the same time.

He got mad at you. He was mad over the situation, over his father making the decision, and over the world.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this, Nete. Think about your family. I’ll be fine here.”

Stubborn ?

He was never stubborn, that was true. He never fought his parents over anything. He tried his best to be the best. To always satisfy.

But this. You and him. This was the one thing he was stubborn about. The one thing he would fight anyone over.

“Why I’m being stubborn ? This, us, this is the one thing that is only mine. I don’t need to meet expectations, I don’t need to be the perfect son or the best. I can just be me. How can you ask of me to leave you here ?” He whispered, his hands gripping your forearms.

“And how can you ask of me to follow you there ?” You whispered back, lightly pushing his hands away. His hands tingled. He felt the rejection. “Nete... What did you think was going to happen ? That I was going to come with you guys ? That they were going to accept me and we could live happily ever after ? This isn’t one of the stories your father used to tell us.”

Neteyam felt a lump in his throat. He knew he had been a fool deep down, but what was he supposed to do ?

He loved you. Nothing could make him face reality. Until you decided to do it.

“We’ll never get a happy ending, Neteyam. Not us. I’m not Na’vi. I can’t be accepted. I can’t give you anything.”

He didn’t want anything from you. He just wanted you. You.

“And I don’t need you to give me anything, sky girl. I just... I just need you.”

A sigh came out of your mouth. “What I mean is I can’t give you a future. Not one you want, not one you deserve. What we feel isn’t enough.”

Not enough. Not enough.

That rang and turned in his mind.

Neteyam had always told you how he never felt enough, no matter what. He had thought this was the one thing he was good enough for, this relationship. He was good at having you by his side, at keeping you safe, at keeping you happy.

He saw the pain and the regret of your words on your face, but he knew you wouldn’t stop. He still tried to stop your words.

“It is, for me. I see you. Oel ngati kameie.”

It was an effort that he already knew would not work. He was sure, deep down, that you already knew and had always known. Just like he knew you felt the same. He had had to try. He had had to say it, just once.

“It won’t be enough... If I say it back, one day, you’d resent me for it.” You cried and it broke his heart. “One day, you would look back at me and wonder why you ever tried with me. I can’t...share the mating bond with you. I can’t give you a family. I can’t give you what I know you want, growing up in the family that you had. And I can’t do this to you. I’m sorry, Neteyam.”

You had thought about the future. He had always ignored it.

Neteyam had always been the more mature one of his siblings, also acting as the more logical one over emotional, but he had always ignored your differences. He never was brave enough to face them. Facing them meant thinking about all that was impossible.

He loved you and imagining the future meant realizing that this love, this relationship was doomed. No matter how much you both felt.

You already thought it was doomed. You wouldn’t go back on it.

He wanted to take you in his arms, forget it all and act as if nothing had ever happened.

He stayed frozen until he knew he had to walk away. You wouldn’t accept anything from him ever again, wouldn’t you ?

You had put up your wall again, the door was closed. No matter what, nothing he would do would open it again.

Neteyam walked away from his safe place. (He heard your sobs as he left. You had broken your heart by talking. He had broken his by walking away.)

He didn’t look at you either when they left. He couldn’t.

Not because he hated you. He could never. (His heart was still in your hands. He could never get it back. He already knew that. It would always be you.)

But because he knew if he looked at you, looked into your eyes, he would break. He would beg you to just come. Beg you to change your mind.

He did not look. He flew away.

He thought of you the whole flight. He thought of you every day after that.

But it was over, he couldn’t think otherwise.

99 notes · View notes

yellowocaballero · 2 years

Text

Moon Knight: Marc & Steven Meet Jake; Realize Youngest Siblings Are The Worst

“I’m insane,” Marc whispered. “I’m insane.”

The cabbie jerked the wheel again, sending them on another sharp right turn that pushed Marc against the window and sent Steven colliding with Marc. He tilted the rearview mirror, giving the passengers a better view of his craggy face, and his mouth split into a sharp grin. It was manic and dangerous, caught in something left of ecstacy.

“Welcome to the madhouse, tesorito.”

Oh god.

Got distracted writing something else in the best life MCU series and wrote this out. Not super necessary to be familiar with the series, but the final scene may not make a lot of sense otherwise. I like this one a lot, mostly because it gives a ton of context for a lot of other shit that happens later on in the series.

As an A/N (or background): most of the classic "Marc&Steven meet Jake" stories I go through have the process be relatively painless, which a) is lacking in sweet juicy drama, and b) I never really grooved with. A lot of my stuff with Marc & Jake's relationship is kinda about the experience of living with a very highly stigmatized mental illness. Having a "crazy crazy" illness is really different from only depression/anxiety, and there is a certain entire process to accepting it. 'Good Luck Jake' was largely about that. It has to be difficult to discover that your incredibly stigmatized mental illness has secretly been twice as bad and three times as 'evil' as you thought it was. And that you're cockney now.

Beat out in a few hours. Very short 10k thing under the cut.

Marc forced himself awake.

A white glove stained with red dug into fine sand, making the heel of his hand slip and skitter. Every inch of his body hurt. When he pressed a hand to his stomach he felt the tell-tale throb of a mortal wound healed only seconds ago. He lay on a shadow of blood staining the sand dark and sticky.

The body was intact, if painful. Marc forced himself upright, hand brushing an abandoned knife by his left hand. He stood up, head woozy from the blood loss, and surveyed the desert.

A crowd of corpses circled him. The ones close to him had throwing knives sticking jaggedly from their throats; the ones closer were gutted. The man closest to Marc was lying on his side, intestines already splitting from the heat.

He tried to count the corpses circled around him, but he gave up quickly. They were Hydra members for sure. The same Hydra members that had almost killed Steven and gotten the better of Marc yesterday. Two days ago? Three? Every inch of his body hurt. As if every inch of his body was dragging itself back to life.

They didn’t like to get involved in stuff like Hydra, but sacrificing the inhabitants of a homeless shelter trying to bring Set’s apocalypse down upon the sinful modern society had been worth involving themselves in. They had been personally offended for a lot of different reasons - not the least of which being that Set was pretty nice and had no apocalyptic interests - and they had chased the agents into…into an office front in London…

Marc took a step forward, then two. He was shaking - adrenaline leaving the body. The pain faded, but the weakness remained. It was only after three shaky steps that he realized he was walking towards someone - that he had begun walking towards them before he even saw them.

There was a mirage on the sand. A white ghost. He looked like Moon Knight, abstracted and simplified - a high stiff white cape, pure white thick fabric covering the entire body. Hood pulled low over the head with a pure black mask. Chunky white gloves and boots. Crescent moon insignia on chest. The eyes were covered by lenses, but Marc felt like he was staring into Marc’s heart.

Marc opened his mouth to try and speak, but his freshly reconstructed trachea only managed a croak. He stumbled forward one step, two. The figure titled its head.

The mirage didn’t flicker with the beat of the sun. It wasn’t a mirage at all. Marc somehow knew, deep in his bones, that the man was real. Maybe realer than anything else.

Fabric scratched Marc’s face. Silky and smooth and breathable, like Steven’s own mask, but he felt the cape snapping stiffly at his heels. The thick gloves stained in red creaked as Marc flexed his fingers.

A Hydra agent blocked his path. He had been shot in the throat - a dignified death compared to many of the others. His helmet was shiny and polished, almost improbably so.

Marc stopped short and looked downwards, angling his head and attempting to see his own reflection in the heat that bore down in a suffocating curtain.

In his reflection, he saw the man in the mirage. Two reflections stood in front of him - one warped, one real. His shaking hand reached up and tore off the mask, letting the black silk crumple in his fingers as his hood fell down.

Only Marc stood in the reflection, as much as this new suit could be Marc. He looked back up at the mirage, seeing that his mask was off too. Somebody who looked like Marc stared back at him, expression blank and implacable.

Marc couldn’t speak. He only reached out a hand, straining to brush his fingers against something real. He didn’t know why - the man was several yards away, too far away to touch.

The man spoke in Spanish with a voice that sounded like, but was not, Marc’s.

“The body’s intact. I can return now. Go back to sleep.”

Marc shook his head. The corner of the figure’s mouth twitched downwards.

“This is a dream. Nobody’s really dead. Go to bed.”

Marc shook his head again, even more frantically.

The figure’s eyebrow ticked. “You always go back to sleep. You’re always happy to forget this. Don’t change your mind now.”

Marc swallowed, and when he tried to speak again he was finally successful. “Change my mind on what?”

“That you and I are none of each other’s business,” the figure said. The figure who was not Marc. The figure that looked like Marc. The figure that wore Khonshu’s chains. “Every time we meet you decide to forget. This isn’t different. Rest, Marc.”

But it was different. Steven had his own suit now, and he was so damn proud of it. He fought his own battles and some of Marc’s too, and Marc didn’t need to protect him anymore. Marc didn’t need the mirage protecting him too. Or he didn’t need the mirage to stand by as he protected himself.

Marc grit his teeth, stepping over the corpse. His limbs felt steady again, and he could walk unimpeded. “Give me the memories.”

“No.”

“I’m not forgetting this time,” Marc rasped, advancing on the figure who only stood still, “so give me the damn memories.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I won’t hide anymore. You don’t need to protect me. Give me your memories. I deserve to know that you exist.”

The figure just looked at him, even as Marc stepped short in front of him. Breath heaving, limbs shaking. The figure just stared at him with cool, disaffected disinterest. As if he’d made his move and was waiting for Marc to make his own. Marc didn’t know what game they were playing. He hadn’t even known they were playing a game. He didn’t know what the stakes were, or what a win condition would be. The figure obviously knew. The figure knew everything, and Marc knew nothing.

“What makes you think I was protecting you?” the figure asked blandly.

“Show me who you are, Jake!”

Jake raised a hand, and Marc didn’t have time to duck away with his arms over his head. He slapped Marc, far more painful than should have been possible, and Marc fell down onto the sands.

Jake showed him.

*****

Steven opened his eyes in a taxi.

A taxi! This was a mystery. Despite the completely different form, he knew it was the mindscape. He almost wished it was real life - the question of why he was in a taxi would have had a very easy answer. But there was really no reason to be in a mind-taxi.

Sure enough, when Steven looked out the window he saw that they were cruising the pockmarked streets of some Middle Eastern city that Steven was completely unfamiliar with but that Marc and Layla would probably know. Hopefully it was Cairo. Steven felt as if their family had a connection with Cairo.

“How strange,” Steven remarked. “I suppose a little variety never killed anybody. But don’t you think it’s a wee small, Marc? I like hanging out in our first apartment far better. Still, there’s nothing wrong with shaking it up now and then.”

Steven looked in front of him at the two seats turned inwards to face Steven’s seat. He craned his head to look through the thick pane of glass that separated the passenger area from the driver’s seat. Just the taximan there. When he looked right he finally saw Marc. That shouldn’t have been so difficult. But Marc shouldn’t look that bad either.

He was bent in half, forehead pressing against his knees. His hands were fisted in his curly hair, pulling it hard and alarming Steven. He was muttering to himself, like he always did as he swallowed screams.

“No…no, no, no…no!”

Just no, over and over again. Steven immediately put a comforting hand on his back, gently disentangling his fingers from his hair with his other hand. “Marc, love, you’re alright. You’re in your mind and you’re perfectly safe. Steven’s here, Marc’s here, everything’s fine.”

That normally helped. It always helped - Marc’s mind together with Steven was his safe space. Steven was always happy to step up, obviously, but it didn’t help this time. Marc just shoved Steven’s hand away from his hair and shied away from the hand on his back.

“Get away from me!”

Steven retreated, hurt. Hurt and confused. Marc always… “What’s wrong? Marc, I can’t fix it until you tell me what’s wrong.”

But Marc was almost hyperventilating, sucking breaths into lungs that needed no air. “I can’t do this again. I can barely handle one. I can’t have more, oh my god.”

“More what?” Steven was thoroughly alarmed now. “Marc, what are you talking about?”

“I’m insane,” Marc moaned. “They’re gonna lock me up. Mom’s gonna lock me up this time. She’s gonna make Dad lock me up. They’re gonna do it this time, they’re going to do it.”

This was going nowhere. Steven grabbed Marc’s shoulders, pulling him upright. Anxiety was creeping up in his own chest. Seeing Marc hysterical was always so scary. “Mum is dead,” Steven said, as sternly as possible. Marc kept his head down, chin tucked into his chest. “Dad is an ocean away. If anybody tries to hurt you, I will stop them. Nobody can get past me. I’ll protect you, I swear.”

“Shut up!” Marc shoved Steven away, and Steven released him. He finally looked up at Steven, and he saw for the first time that his face was reddened and ruddy. That there was a frantic, disturbed look in his eyes - searching for enemies in the one place he knew there was none. “You’re not real! Neither of you are real, you’re just voices in my damn head! Go away!”

It should have hurt. On some level, it felt like Marc had taken an ice pick to his heart. But on every other level it barely penetrated. It was like Marc saying Layla wasn’t pretty or something. Something objectively untrue, and something that Marc would never believe. No matter what the rest of the world thought - if there were morons out there who thought Layla wasn’t the prettiest girl ever - it would never be true to Marc.

Something was wrong.

Steven obligingly slid away, giving Marc his space. Marc didn’t apologize or take it back - he just shivered, as if he was deathly cold, and tucked himself in the corner of the cab. He stared furiously out the window, as if he could pretend that Steven wasn’t there. Trying to convince himself that he wasn’t real, that neither of them were real -

“Neither?” Steven asked, voice ratcheting up just a little. He hoped it sounded firm instead of anxious, but he knew the truth. “What do you mean neither of you?”

“Who do you think I’m talking about?” Marc snapped. “The other one. The one that’s always around.”

Steven bit back his shock and confusion, fighting to keep his voice even. “Marc, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What other one? It’s always been us.”

But Marc just shook his head, looking out the window. Steven wondered what he was seeing. “Mom was right.”

“Jesus, Marc!”

“She’s always right,” Marc said, voice rising higher and drowning Steven out. “She knew he was me. She saw it. Mom always knows.”

For just a second, Steven saw what Marc was seeing. It was nothing unusual. Just a little boy, hands pressed over his ears as a roaring echoed outside, telling himself over and over again that it wasn’t Mom. That there was an evil inside of Mom that wasn’t really her - until Marc understood that it was.

This was enough. Steven had to front and make sure they were safe. Marc wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon, and they could be anywhere or doing anything. He’ll get them home, lock the liquor and medicine cabinets, and take the emergency sedatives.

He leaned forward and knocked on the plane of glass. “Hello? Hello, Mr. Cab Driver? Can you drop us off? We need to go home.”

Steven couldn’t see the driver’s face. He could only make out a silly cap perched on a jaunty angle on his head and black driving gloves. He was sitting casually, easily. Relaxed as anything despite the scene in the back of his cab. He didn’t give any sign that he had heard Steven.

Steven knocked harder, tapping insistently. “Sir, it’s an emergency.”

The driver gave an exaggerated sigh. Without turning around, he bent his arm to slide back the small window in the glass before returning to the wheel.

He said something in Spanish.

Uh oh. “I’m sorry,” Steven said, vaguely embarrassed. “I don’t speak Spanish. Uh, no llamo espanol. Despite, ah, my looks and all - do you have any English? Ingles?”

The driver said something else in Spanish. He sounded a little like he was laughing at Steven. Well, excuse him.

Steven looked backwards at Marc, who had folded his arms. “What’s he saying?”

Extremely unhelpfully, Marc said something to the driver in Spanish. The driver spun the wheel in an unexpectedly tight turn, sending Steven sliding on the seat, and retorted something else. Marc snarled something. The conversation seemed very vitriolic.

“No, go ahead and exclude me, this is grand,” Steven said. “Real chuffed about this.”

The driver slapped the wheel, laughing. He said something else, and Steven caught the word ‘nino’. Three guesses who that referred to. Ugh.

Marc’s expression was dark, but Steven couldn’t help but notice the flash of fear too. He said something else, voice shaking.

The cab driver just laughed at him again. With no warning, he pulled the sharpest U-Turn Steven had ever seen, sending the car skidding. He went sliding, jerking left and right, and he had to rush to buckle in his seatbelt before the car lurched forward again.

The cab sped up. Steven couldn’t read the speedometer from here, but he could see the needle climbing higher and higher.

“You are not excluding me again!” Steven snapped. “Marc, you tell me what’s going on right now!”

Marc forcibly jerked his eyes away from drilling holes in the back of the driver’s seat to look at Steven. He looked a little washed out, eyes flickering left and right - as if telling Steven was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Our lovely driver showed me what he did all day,” Marc rasped. “All the - the people -”

Steven’s life was awful enough that he could fill in the second half of that sentence. His gut sank like a stone.

“He says he likes it,” Marc said.

The rearview mirror flashed, and for the first time Steven craned his head to look at it. Unfamiliar eyes flashed back at him. An unfamiliar smile. He looked like them, just like them, but nothing about him was familiar.

“I’m insane,” Marc whispered. “I’m insane.”

“Welcome to the madhouse, tesorito.”

Oh god.

There was no time to freak out. Marc was down for the count and the cab was only speeding up. Steven scrambled away, leaning forwards as far as his seatbelt would allow.

“You’re an alter?” Steven asked, voice creaking upwards in badly concealed anxiety. He hoped it sounded like friendliness. “That’s grand, really, so am I! It’s awfully nice to meet you, don’t think we’ve been quite formally introduced - I’m Steven, Steven Grant. And what’s your name?”

The cabbie laughed again, hoarse and raspy. “We don’t need introductions. I've been wotchin’ yer for a long time, Stevie. Long, long time.”

“His name’s Jake Lockley,” Marc said darkly. He wasn’t even wearing a seatbelt - allowing the cab to toss him left and left. Steven anxiously leaned over and did his seatbelt for him, which he suffered patiently. “We split in the army.”

The time Steven wasn’t there. That explained a lot. Steven had always been quietly surprised that Marc had gone so long without a single alter. Guess he hadn’t.

“So you’re the youngest!” Steven cried, faux-cheerfully. Jake choked. “That’s sweet! Well, it is really grand to have a new br - family member. Always cause for celebration when a family gets bigger. Isn’t it nice, Marc?” Marc said nothing. “Alright! Well, obviously we have a lot in common. Besides a body. I have a normal English accent, you have a very strange Cockney accent - by the by, that’s kinda my thing, so if you can just stick to that West Side Story thing you have going on then that would be great.”

“Your thing?” Jake asked, grin spreading. “Looky here, chaps. Laddie’s got a thing. Could’a sworn it was toddlin’ after Marcito all the time. Oh, oh! I know!” He slapped the wheel, cackling. “Pacifism! Blimey, that’s a right laugh. I’m a bit of a pacifist meself.”

“Wow, that’s great,” Steven said, desperate for anything that might distract the man with the worst accent alive from crashing them into a sand dune. “I like to think that we all abhor violence, in our own rights. Now quite sure how that fits in with your killing people thing, but we can workshop it!”

“Oh, that one’s easy. Real easy.” Jake grinned again, propping an elbow on the window edge. “Once you kill a guy he stops hitting you. I like to steal his wallet afterwards. I’m a bit of an anarchocommunist too.”

That backfired. Steven desperately tried again. “You have to do things other than kill people. What are your hobbies?”

“Drinking,” Jake said cheerfully. “Love a good kitchen sink after work.”

“Do you run missions for Khonshu?” That was the only explanation for this. Never mind that Khonshu hadn’t mentioned a word, but that was par for the course. “Is that when you get into - into your fights?”

Dunes sped past them, blurring into burnt orange streaks of light. Jake just grinned. “Wouldn’t you wanna know.”

“I - I do, actually -”

“Here’s the scene, chaps.” Jake jerked the wheel again, sending the car skidding in an arc and making Steven clench his jaw. “I got me this friend, see? You might know him. Big an’ boney an’ pokey. Bit bossy. But we real good friends. And we don’t like being fucking interrupted!”

He circled the wheel, sending the car into a tailspin, and Steven’s neck jerked with the crush of force. Marc was silent, huddled in the corner.

“So I’m gonna tell you the fucking deal!” The car skidded in a wide arc, Jake’s hands firmly on the wheel as he pumped the breaks with a demented grin. “We don’t bother Jake. We don’t bitch and moan about Jake’s killin’ an’ drinkin’ an’ screwin’!”

“Stop the car!” Steven yelled, heart jumping into his throat. “Stop the stupid car, we’re gonna -”

“Nobody tells me what to do!” Jake yelled, and Steven shut up. The car straightened, back end swaying. “Not in my own cab! Not even you two!”

Marc thumped the back of the glass with a fist, unphased by the tailspinning car. “You’re scaring Steven, dickhead.”

The car righted itself, and Jake finally killed the engine. The leftover acceleration kept the cab moving long after he killed it, the sudden silence magnifying the sound of Steven’s beating heart, and it wasn’t until it finally rolled to a stop among the dunes that Jake turned around.

It was the first time Steven could see his entire face. It barely resembled them at all. His eyes were more lively than Marc’s and more intense than Steven’s; his mouth pulled into a permanent grimace or smile where Marc’s stoicism usually lingered. His mouth was locked in a scowl now, fierce and intense.

“I don’t need you,” Jake spat. Marc’s face twisted in a matching glower. Steven was almost jealous - he didn’t know what he felt at all. “Carino wasn’t supposed to ever remember me. I don’t need your life or your limp little family. Stay out of our way. An’ if you don’t do it, we got ways of makin’ you do it. Savvy?”

“You’re a traitor,” Marc said lowly. “Shacking up with Khonshu like that. It’s pathetic.”

“Khonshu takes care of me!” Jake yelled, and Steven shrank back. “I don’t remember you ever takin’ care’a me! I knew you’d hate me! I knew it! I knew it!” He smacked the wheel of the cab hard, and Steven winced. “I don’t want you two in my damn cab ever again! The last thing I need are more civilians draggin’ me down and making me life harder than it has’ta be.”

Impossibly, Marc’s outrage grew. “Who are you calling a civilian, you -”

“Someone who ain’t working the jobs I’m workin’.” Jake pointedly unlocked the doors, letting one swing open by itself. “See you again never. Familia.”

Marc clenched his jaw hard. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jake. Jake refused to look at him. “I’m not letting this go.”

“Big surprise.”

“I’m not going to let you keep doing this,” Marc said, voice rising. “I won’t let you keep hurting people.”

“Bring your complaints to the boss,” Jake said snidely. “He’ll take my side. He likes me better than he likes you.”

Steven put a hand on Marc’s shoulder and squeezed, cutting off any future screaming matches. “We don’t know where the body is,” Steven said lowly, and Marc stiffened. “You need to go front and get us home. We’ll talk then, okay?”

Marc’s glare melted away, revealing only sick fear. He folded his hand over Steven’s own, looking away from him. “I’m sorry for yelling that stuff at you. I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s alright. I know you didn’t.” Steven offered him a weak smile. “You can make it up to me with a museum day.”

Marc groaned, but he didn’t hide the twitch of a smile. “Sure, waste a day of our -”

“With Layla.”

“I’m not in charge of her schedule.”

“She’ll clear it for me,” Steven said loftily. He squeezed Marc’s hand tightly before releasing it, giving him a little push. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

He unbuckled the seat belt and slid out of the cab, not bothering to look behind him to be sure Steven was following. Marc disappeared into the dunes - hopefully into the body, where hopefully nothing catastrophic was happening.

Steven didn’t move. He just looked at the driver’s seat, where Jake slouched heavily and crossed his arms. He could half-see the ghost of a scowl in the rearview mirror.

He closed the door behind Marc. Jake jerked up, twisting around to check the door, but when he scanned the passenger compartment Steven was gone. Jake exhaled and turned back to the front, fiddling with the mirror. It bent to the left, and a pair of eyes somewhat familiar to Jake flashed in the mirror.

“Why a cab?”

Jake jumped in his seat, spooked despite himself. “Jay-sus! How’d you - get out of the front, dickhead!”

“Our mindscapes are always our homes, past or present.” Steven hummed, inspecting the clean and neatly kept interior. “You must feel very safe here.”

“I told yer to get out,” Jake said, puffing himself up. “Now scram before I -”

“That’s enough of that,” Steven said calmly, and Jake shut up. “Do I look like Marc to you? Save it for someone who’ll buy it.” Jake opened his mouth, biting retort already on his tongue, but Steven didn’t give him the opportunity. “I’m sorry your first meeting didn’t go well.”

“I don’t know what in God’s dumb-ass name you’re on about.” Jake folded his arms tightly, glowering at the steering wheel. “It went exactly how I always knew it would.”

“And you made sure of that, huh?” Steven asked archly. Jake looked away. “Reject him first so he can’t reject you like he did the five other times?”

Jake was silent for a long moment before speaking. “He’s already thinking it. He’s thinking - ‘that’s all the evil inside of me’. Jake Lockley, evil fuckin’ incarnate, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“You don’t want to try and convince him otherwise?”

“No,” Jake said shortly. “Fuck ‘im. Fuck you too. I don’t wanna be ‘nother Roro replacement. That’s all he cares about. I’m not a damn goldfish.”

It was a remarkably uncharitable view of Marc. Roughly as charitable as Marc would have for himself. Steven had never once felt like a replacement for anyone - only loved as equally. Marc worried often that Steven felt this way, and he had to reassure him every time that some shared traits did not a transference make. Granted, Marc had a bit of a complex that he did occasionally take out on Steven, but that was more of a proximity thing.

“So you pick Khonshu over us, then?”

“Shut up about Khonshu.”

“Jake, look at me.” Steven held out his hand, but Jake still refused to look at him. Steven let it fall on the space between them instead, palm upwards. “Khonshu’s not your friend. Friends are equals.” Jake pressed his lips together thinly - was he finally listening? “Friends take no for an answer. I know he supports you and he’s nice to you, but that’s not because he cares. He just wants something from you, and you’re giving it to him.”

Jake hunched his shoulders, turned firmly away. “You dunno wotcher goin’ on about. Khonshu lets me do whatever I want. And when ‘is attention is on me it ain’t on you anyway, so don’t muck about and complain.”

That explained why Jake was so empathetic about Marc and Steven staying out of his life and leaving him alone. He thought it’d put them in Khonshu’s crosshairs. Kind of noble, pretty stupid.

But it sent a pang through Steven’s chest. Did he even register what he was saying? Or was he too much like Marc, ignoring everything bad that he couldn’t change? At least Marc knew he was afraid. Jake didn’t seem to know he was scared at all. “Friends don’t let you do whatever you want. They don’t make you ask permission to do things.”

“How am I suppose’ta know something like that?” Jake snapped. His hatred and anger was running out of steam, and all he was left with only hurt. “I don’t got no friends. I don’t need ‘em either. I don’t need anyone.”

“Jake, please. You aren’t alone.” Steven had never felt so powerless in his life. And he was always powerless. “You have us. You don’t have to let him do this.”

“I have you?” Jake’s voice rose, brittle and sharp. “Yer jokin’. Marc threw me to him. It’s Abraham and Isaac here. Marc threw me to him because he can’t handle being friends with Khonshu, and it’s whatever. I don’t care. Khonshu gives me something I want too. I get that and I don’t need nothing else. I know he ain’t - but he’s all I got, okay?”

Part of Steven felt his heart break. Jake was lonely. His life was small and violent and he didn’t know anything else. The two people on Earth who should always be there for Jake, who should never leave him alone to bear the oppressively cruel world, chose to forget he existed. The three of them weren’t meant to be alone, and Jake was left trying to fill that hole with Khonshu.

But the vast majority of Steven felt a wash of hot rage. Anger didn’t come easily to Steven, but it burned hot and fast in his chest now.

Jake was a kid. Not Steven’s occasional innocence, but an actual kid. He’d been alive for maybe fifteen years and he had never fronted for more than a few hours at a time. He said all he did was fight and drink. In many ways he was more naive than Steven, and Khonshu was taking advantage of that. Khonshu exploited him. He pretended that he was Jake’s friend and that he cared about him when he was just enjoying their most pliable side.

Has there ever been time for Jake to discover who he was? To enjoy that person? Or was he stuck in that awkward and half-alive place - where every second of his life was defined by Marc and controlled by Khonshu?

Steven leaned forward, lowering his voice and making it gentle. “I have an idea. You’ve had to hide yourself from us your entire life, right? But you don’t have to do that anymore. You can front as much as you want.”

Jake finally turned to look at him. Steven had been half-expecting him to bristle at the tone, but the tension in his shoulders eased. He filed that one away. “As much as I want?”

“Yeah! So long as you’re polite about it.” Steven forced a big smile. It was difficult when he was this iridescently angry, but Steven was the world champion in emotional bullshitting. Besides, there was no way this promise would come back to bite him later. “Think about it. We aren’t working right now. You can take a whole day if you want. Maybe even a week, if you check with us first. You can go on museum days, or - or whatever you want. Buy your own wardrobe! It’s quite exciting when you think about it. Whatever you want.”

Jake stared at him, eyes wide. Finally, he said, “Whatever I want?”

“If you’re reasonable about it,” Steven said quickly.

“Whatever I want?”

“Within reasonable parameters.”

Jake straightened, finally relaxing. When he wasn’t trying to look older and bigger and tougher, he almost looked like Steven. “Marc wouldn’t go for that.”

“I think it’s time for Marc to get over himself,” Steven said gravely, and Jake’s expression lightened. “I’ll work on him. We’ll figure something out. Maybe all of this could be a good thing, yeah? You can find out what you want.” Find something that Khonshu couldn’t give him.

Jake looked around, as if there could be someone spying on them through the dunes, before leaning in. In a half-hushed voice, far more uncertain than Steven had heard from him so far, he said, “I always kinda wanted to be a New York City taxi driver.”

Steven stared at him blankly.

“I like the London cabbie thing I got going on,” Jake explained, as if this remotely counted as an explanation, “the cockney is good, it’s a great touch. Real classic feel. Almost Shakespearian, if you get me.”

“I - I don’t, actually -”

“But New York really just calls to me,” Jake finished triumphantly. “I think Marc’s got a thing or somethin’ - but think of it! I can go, like - ey, I’m walkin’ here! Fuggedaboutit! And stuff like that. Ain’t nothing tougher than a City cabbie. And the grid system sounds real nice, driving would be a dream. What do you think?”

Steven thought the matter over carefully. “NYC does have superheroes…”

“Yeah, that’s a downside,” Jake said grimly. That wasn’t quite what Steven had meant. “I can dodge those freaks easy enough. All the good sinners are in NYC, it’s nothin’ like London. And there’s, like, actual Jews. And Latinos. I’m kind of conspicuous here. I wanna blend in with the working class. I like all the pubs and rampant alcoholism here, but I hear in the City they got cannibalistic rats -”

“Please don’t tell me about the rats.”

He had no idea how NYC would even work. Too close to Jersey City for Marc. That’s faking a lot of citizenships and identifications. And, as much as Steven loved superheroes, what they did wasn’t strictly legal and highly resembled murdering people all the time. He really didn’t want to get into fights with the Fantastic Four or something. That would be super depressing and kind of embarrassing. And painful. What if they thought he was a supervillain or something? All they had to deal with in London was Excalibur, which didn’t count.

But Jake was still looking at him with wide eyes and excitement slowly fading the longer Steven hesitated. How many times had Jake asked for something that he wanted - actually wanted, something more than a drink or a kill - and recieved it? It was amazing that he still asked, that he still wanted and fantasized. That he wanted to be around people of his own freaking religion and ethnicity. The bare minimum. Friends, a life. The bare minimum.

“Yes,” Steven said, and Jake straightened. “Yeah. Yeah, why not? I’ll make it happen. Count on it.”

Jake’s eyes widened. A smile split his face - slow, lopsided, real. “Class.”

“If you’re gonna be American then you have to say ‘cool’,” Steven teased lightly. “Class is lingo for us swotty Brits.”

Jake brightened, smile widening. “Cool. Cool! That’s cool!”

“It’s very cool.” Steven couldn’t stop the authentic smile. Once you picked through…everything, then Jake was a little sweet inside. He looked like Steven, if you let him. “Listen, I have to go help out Marc. He’s probably too upset to front alone.”

If Jake was disappointed, he didn’t show it. He just closed off, straightening and looking away. But maybe that was answer enough. “Then I guess this is your stop.” The door opened by itself, swinging out onto the dunes. “Don’t come back, darling. You and Marc don’t got a place with what I do. It’d only make you miserable.” He halted a second, almost hesitant. “But I’ll catch you on the flip side, yeah? In New York City?”

“I’ll meet you in New York City,” Steven said warmly, sliding out of his seat and clambering out of the London cab. “But this conversation’s far from over. We have to talk again. Now that it’s three of us, we have to find a way to make everything work and have everybody get along, because what we got -”

“Christ, you’re boring,” Jake said, shutting the door.

*******

Steven bolted upright in bed.

It was night, the endless thumps and shakes of London echoing outside his flat as the streetlights dappled his wall in a faint shine. His towering bookshelves and stacks of notebooks cast a familiar cityscape of shadows on the floor. Next to him, his wife snored.

Steven grabbed his phone, noting that it was plugged into a charger. He flipped it on and hissed at the flood of light, and turned down the brightness to minimum as he checked the date.

Wednesday night. They ran into the London building chasing after Hydra members on Monday night. Who had fronted for the last two days? Steven didn’t know. It was kinda creepy not knowing. There was something so uncomfortable about Jake.

Jake.

Steven bent over the side of the bed and withdrew a locked box from the bottom drawer of his nightstand, inputting the code by muscle memory and popping it open. He grabbed a notebook and a pen from the top of a stack and shut the box, using it as a hard backing to scribble on a new page.

What are you doing?

In careful script, Steven wrote ‘NEW YORK CITY’ into his plans.

What? America? That is very inconvenient. The geography, the superheroes, the noise. This is against all of your plans.

A smile twitched at the corner of Steven’s mouth. I know what I’m doing, Khonshu.

Are you going to tell me why?

Steven grinned. He wondered if he looked like Jake. From Khonshu’s slight alarm, maybe he did. “Nope.”

*******

Things didn’t change.

If they did, it was only in subtle and awful ways. Discovering Jake had sent Marc into a two week bender, unable to cope with the fact that his body had been killing countless people without his knowledge or consent. He took it worse than Steven had - but Steven didn’t blame himself for Khonshu. He and Layla had a massive fight about it, but he couldn’t tell her why. Steven pleaded and played peacemaker and lied and pretended that a mission had gone catastrophically wrong.

They didn’t tell Layla. Steven had been the one to suggest it. The thought of her knowing was terrifying. He didn’t really know why.

They lost more and more time, which infuriated Marc. Steven wrote several very empathetic sticky notes to Jake that maybe they could coordinate and make some plans so they stopped unexpectedly losing three days. He woke up the next morning to find the note floating in Gus’ tank. What an absolute teenager.

It continued to feel like they were sharing a body with a homicidal teenager. Petty, impulsive, constantly attention seeking, and rejecting all affection in the same breath he demanded it. Marc’s opinion had landed solidly on ‘serial killer’ territory, which was tremendously mean and sparked a lot of fights.

“You didn’t see what he showed me,” Marc had said. “You don’t know him like I know him.”

“Neither of us know him!” Steven had exclaimed. “He’s just a kid, Marc! If we can just get him to talk to us and listen -”

“I’ll change my mind if he changes my mind,” Marc had said. “Until then, he’s a grown-ass man who jumps when Khonshu says how high.”

And that, of course, was a mortal sin to Marc.

Jake never tried to change his mind. They only saw him in the mindspace a handful of times since then. It always ended in a screaming match. Marc never tried and Jake never tried and they never listened to Steven when he tried. Nobody ever freaking listened to him.

And, one day, Steven noticed that Jake had changed. Or that he had been changing for a while, and Steven only just noticed.

Jake stopped bragging about being Khonshu’s friend and started bragging that he could do the dirty work that Marc couldn’t stomach. He stopped speaking English in the mindscape at all, leaving Steven relieved that he had finally re-learned Spanish. He asked when he was going to meet Layla once, then never again.

Jake grew up in fits and bursts. Or maybe he just grew away - it was almost impossible for Steven to tell. He was never cruel to Steven like he was to Marc, but he wasn’t exactly nice either. The parts of Jake that felt young and naive withered away. It meant that Jake was taking his advice - that he was fronting longer, that he was building himself - but it was a cold comfort. Steven never got through to him again.

Was he still scared of Khonshu? Steven didn’t know. He couldn’t ask. Marc still yelled at him for getting in bed with Khonshu, and Jake still sneered that Marc was just jealous.

Steven never saw a real smile from him again.

(“I had to promise them that this one wouldn’t go on the website. Or that we’d hang it up. So I guess it just lives on our phones. But maybe you can hang it up in your place!” Danny angled the phone closer, leaving Steven to squint through his reading glasses. “We had to bribe Jake to stand in it. And Matt made us retake it five times because he thinks staring randomly around is funny. Or maybe he just does that habitually? I dunno. I think I look pretty good, though! When I got here cameras really freaked me out, I thought they had ghosts.”

It was the Heroes For Hire, plus two freelancers. They were standing in a line, squished up so they all fit in frame. Whoever arranged the photo had a flair for the dramatic - they were all leaning against the metal siding of a warehouse, giving them a rugged Urban Outfitters look.

Misty and Colleen were next to each other with one foot kicked on the wall, elbows brushing. Danny stood next to Colleen and Danny, grinning brightly and making a peace sign. Next to him stood Luke, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Jessica stood next to him, wearing an unfamiliar expression on her face. Jake was leaning against her obnoxiously, one arm thrown over her shoulders - an unfamiliar expression on his face too. Matt stood next to him, slightly apart from the others, wearing his usual Mona Lisa smile.

Jessica was smiling, self-confident and defiant. Jake was too. It was usually an expression only Steven ever wore, but somehow it was only Jake. It was a bright beam, cheerfully obnoxious. It was reminiscent of his constant fake beams, but the difference was clear - when he was faking a grin, he kept his eyes wide open in a way he knew unsettled people. His eyes were almost crinkled closed in the picture. No need to look for enemies. Safe.

“I don’t know why Matt has to look creepy in every picture, but - Steven? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steven said, wiping his eyes. “We’re fine. Can you send this to me?”)

So Steven spent long hours crouched over his desk.

There was barely enough room to write. Every inch of it was crowded with books. Textbooks coughing post-its occupied corners and printed sheafs of paper clamped between binder clips were jammed in folders. Five notebooks and counting lived in the locked desk drawer. Only Steven had the code.

Marc thought Steven had developed a new hyperfixation. He didn’t really understand why Steven was so secretive about it - why he insisted that Marc leave him alone and not peek as he typed and wrote and annotated - but he respected his wishes. He knew Jake rifled through everything and occasionally stole the philosophy books, raising many questions, but he left it alone too. Layla eagerly asked if he wanted to audit courses on the subject, but Steven waved her away. Any course wouldn’t move fast enough. Steven needed to move as fast as possible - he needed to do this yesterday, a year ago. They couldn’t waste any more time.

Two or three books a day. One book a day for the particularly dense ones. It was slow going at first when he had to Google every other word, but eventually it became easier and easier. The easiest bits were just rereading the relevant books and articles on the Egyptian history and philosophies on the topic. He filled an entire notebook of an idea, realized it was stupid, then started another notebook.

He couldn’t rush this. It had to be perfect. He already knew he’d have to make a lot of compromises, so he had to start from the strongest stance possible. He had already resigned himself to capital punishment, but there were a lot of other areas he could make a lot of ground on. Areas that they didn’t even know about - global warming, white collar crimes, prejudice. Maybe someone out there would care about anti-semitism. He could design something that cared. An institution that cared.

Law. Legal philosophy. Forensics. History. Sociology, anthropology (he wished he knew an anthropologist!). Anti-racism and civil rights activism in America. Politics and corruption. Endless bills and case law and precedents.

Steven didn’t have a high school diploma. It felt so impossible. His head swam every day. But Marc and Layla did impossible things all the time. Steven could do it too.

Marc saved Steven all the time. Steven had to save him. Save poor Jake. If he could do anything for the kid, even the smallest thing - he had to. Maybe he had a brother complex too.

It wouldn’t fix things. But if it would just make their lives a little easier, ease that burden. There was no room for pacifism in their bloody lives. Steven would have to make room. Nobody said pacifism was easy.

Khonshu knew, of course. He was fascinated and confused. He was the only god Steven had on regular call, so he ended up being Steven’s source on a lot of the practicalities. Steven would have to press him to arrange an introduction to Thoth and Anubis. He needed allies. Taweret was another huge help. If Thoth wasn’t in the bag no one was. Anubis was crucial. Anubis and Taweret together covered an important part of the process. It would be almost impossible to get an audience with Set, but that could really swing things. He had to be political about this. Terrible sentence.

You don’t know what you are proposing, Khonshu warned. He sat on Steven’s couch, feet propped on the coffee table, as Steven bent furiously over his desk. It was four am, but they didn’t need as much sleep as other people. It was fine. This could have far-reaching implications.

“Last time I checked I’m the only one who understands what I’m proposing,” Steven said, only half-paying attention. He circled an important precedent in a court case and wrote it down in his journal. “You’re the only other one who knows what I’m doing, and I know you don’t get it at all.”

You misunderstand. The planes have been unstable for almost two decades. What you are proposing will destabilize reality.

That got Steven’s attention. He straightened and turned around, taking off his glasses. “Excuse me?”

Khonshu nodded. He seemed serious for once. The Old Gods have withdrawn their influence from the mortal plane. Aliens masquerade as us. As we visit, it is through humans like you - conduits for our power and influence. Recipients of our gifts. But it is our weapons who handle our mortal affairs. Rarely us. We do not interfere.

“Do us weapons really not count as you interfering in mortal affairs?”

I was excommunicated from the gods because of you and your predecessors. Yes.

Alright, that was fair. All gods did was cheat and exploit loopholes. Which was why this charter had to be perfect. “So you’re saying that my idea would magnify godly influence on the mortal plane by ten?”

A hundred. A thousand. Steven paled. You are suggesting more than a visit or a representative, Steven. Even a temple. You are suggesting an outpost. A home for the gods on the mortal plane. That we take personal responsibility for the natural conduction of human affairs. That we step outside of our aspects. Do you even understand this?

How could he? Steven was just a lowly human. A doctorate wouldn’t help him understand godly whatevers. “Don’t you understand that this would increase your power by a thousand?” Steven shot back. “I told you this at the beginning - I’m making you more powerful than you ever dreamed of, Khonshu. Tawaret’s ship was empty! The Duat hasn’t seen a soul for a thousand years. I’m offering you a lifeline. Like it or not, you’re the one without much bargaining power here.”

It is why I believe in your success, Khonshu said. Steven exaggeratedly clutched his heart in shock. But that you taking advantage of our desperation -

“Wonder what the hell that’s like!”

- will result in us making changes we have spent a thousand years denying. Changes that no Old God has ever accepted. You are suggesting modernity, Steven. It is unthinkable to us. And if the Egyptian gods take that step, then others may follow. Khonshu tilted his beak down, empty eyesockets boring into Steven. This is more than changing our operation. It is more than changing the world. It is even more than changing the Egyptian gods. You could change godhood itself.

“You said the mortal planes were unstable,” Steven said. He was already sitting, but he had the sudden urge to sit down. “Do you think this might…what, destabilize reality?”

Perhaps. Khonshu held up two skeletal fingers perpendicular to each other and slowly crossed them. You will bring the godly realm closer to the mortal one without a doubt. What the impacts of such an event shall be…I do not pretend to know. Perhaps nothing will happen. Perhaps everything. Perhaps it will simply be the beginning of a ripple effect. You are throwing a stone in the water, and we do not know where these ripples might lead.

“You don’t…really think I’m going to destroy the universe, do you?” Steven asked dubiously. “You wouldn’t think this is nifty if you thought that.”

I am attached to the universe, so no. I do not think what you do will make this universe better or worse. I simply think it will change it. What happens after that is up to everybody else. Khonshu paused a beat. There will definitely be more superhero fights.

“Oh, but that’s their problem.”

Yes, I don’t care.

Steven thought about it.

The words should have rocked his world. They were insane. The thought of Steven and his stupid little idea changing the planes of reality itself? He’d read enough about mortal and mystical planes and everything to know that they were kinda important. This crowded desk and dog-eared books and highlighted textbooks - could it really change everything?

A fifty/fifty chance of saving the world or dooming it was a risk too big to take. Steven was insane for even considering it. There was no way this wouldn’t destabilize the universe even more.

And the other gods. Steven knew that they were out there. The Ancestral Planes, Heaven and Hell (or, as normal people said, “Heaven” and “Hell”). If Steven accidentally put the “Devil” on Earth and helped him start a nightclub Marc would be mad at him for sure. What about the New Gods like the Eternals? Or those guys who live on the moon?

A lot of fancy thoughts. Steven didn’t pretend to know anything about any of it. Interplanar geometry and the multiverse and magic - it was way above Steven’s head. He was just an incredibly mentally ill Latino guy who never graduated high school living in indentured servitude. Steven was kinda at the bottom of the ladder here.

He tried to care. He really did. Steven tried really hard to care about the multiverse, the universe, the planes of reality, the galaxy, Earth. New Gods and superheroes. It was probably super important.

Steven looked down at his notebook. His untidy scrawl covering every square inch of the page and then some. Every plan. Every hope.

“Would the courthouse help Marc?”

I am the greatest help to -

“You are not.”

Khonshu sighed. Marc wouldn’t assassinate anybody anymore. He paused a beat. Mostly. I am hardly giving you away.

Steven clenched his jaw. “Would it help Jake?”

I hardly think Jake wants your help. He likes his life with me -

“Shut the fuck up.” Khonshu shut up. Steven clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. “Would this help Jake? Would it make him happy? Actually happy, not your sick definition of happiness.”

Khonshu was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, A burden on Jake would be lifted, yes. Not all of it. But some.

Steven’s conviction settled. But it had never really been a debate. He had never really been conflicted. Like Marc, like Jake - Steven didn’t go back on a promise.

“Then the multiverse can burn.”

Khonshu stared at him. Steven ignored him, listening only to the thump of his heart in his chest. It beat an insistent drumbeat in his ears.

The consequences. The domino. The ripple. What this might mean for everything and everyone. Who and what Steven would sacrifice just to make the impossible happen.

Marc, passed out drunk in a bathroom with vomit on his chin. Jake, sharing a smile that Steven never saw again. Layla, holding divorce papers and crying silently.

They had sacrificed everything. Nobody had ever sacrificed anything for them. Nobody had ever helped them. Marc, Steven, Jake, Layla - they had given their entire lives and they had never received anything in return. Only pain and heartbreak.

The multiverse had never helped Steven’s family. Steven wasn’t giving it anything more. It stopped here.

Steven dragged over a textbook, cracking it open and flipping to a new page in his journal. He didn’t answer Khonshu. He just put his glasses back on and bent over the textbook, highlighting furiously and scribbling notes in the margins.

Ah. I - well, see you tomorrow!

The multiverse was going to work for them from now on. The courthouse would change everything. Steven was going to fight tooth and nail for it. For the courthouse. For Marc’s peace. For Jake’s New York City. This charter was going to be foolproof, and the gods were going to see. The gods were going to agree. They had to.

Steven continued reading and writing until the sun broke over the horizon, and for many hours afterwards.

#my writing #moon knight #mk #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #does the rest of the series turn out the way it does because #jake wanted to yell FUGGADABOUTIT really loudly?#yes.#i wrote this then felt like a genius over both how i retroactively made a lot of behavior in the series make sense #and how fucking hilarious cockney jake is #i s2g the story was really different before I did the cockney thing and then i just couldn't take him seriously anymore #anyway back to frenchie

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newtonsheffield · 2 years

Note

Ohhh! Can Mary's conversation with young farmer Anthony?

Ohhh what did Mary say to Anthony??? you can't leave us hanging like this, please?

We can see just a little from mary's point of view

Mary Sharma was not a foolish woman, no matter what her mother and father would have liked to be believed. she had sensed her daughters slight apprehension, when they'd come to London to make her debut. Even as Mary's own mother had sighed,

"She is a very pretty girl, though. One can only hope she makes better choices than you did."

"I'm very happy, with the choices I've made Mama." She'd sighed, watching Kate across the from, her brow furrowed as she spoke with a Mr Brandson, Mary thought he might have been, Kate's eyes rolling as she walked away.

She watched Kate grow more and more dissatisfied, paying less and less interest, and then she saw it. The first real, genuine smile she'd seen since they arrived in London. Right there as Kate stood on the street, talking to a working class man, a farmer from his broad chest and the sun on his skin. His horse meant for work, not riding for pleasure. And there was something so beautiful about the smile on kate's face, she felt guilty for pulling her away.

"Kate? Darling, come along, Appa and Edwina are expecting us for tea."

Kate had smiled again as they's walked away, kept smiling the whole way home, looking back over her shoulder as though she might see the handsome young man standing there still.

"How was the duke today?" Edwina asked curiously as they sat down to tea her head tilted

"Who?" Kate asked a little distractedly.

"The man you met when you left the house, Kate." Edwina sighed far too exasperatedly for a girl of just ten.

"Oh, he was lovely." the same tiny smile on kate's face as she looked away that Mary was certain wasn't for the duke of sunderland.

And she saw it again as they sat down to break their fasts the next morning, the hem of her dress muddy from the morning rides Mary was saw Kate thought no one knew about. A secret smile on her face that Mary was sure was for the man they'd met that afternoon.

Mary felt guilty, of course she did for rising early, watching from the window as Kate disappeared with her hair flying out behind her and a small smile on Mary's own face as she watched her come back, happier and happier every day. Mary would watch as Kate would run outside, the handsome young man already waiting for her by the gate, a smile on his face as he caught her around the waist, spinning her around in the light rain, their lips meeting in a tender kiss and a sigh built in Mary's chest. The memory rising in her of when she'd been the debutante, a diamond of the first water who'd mistaken a former clerk, a widower, for the Earl of Davenport and been half in love with him before her Mama had appeared at her shoulder tugging her away to introduce her to the real Earl.

And she'd sworn, she'd sworn to herself when she'd stood in the church and married the love of her life that her daughters wouldn't have to threaten to runaway and they wouldn't have to make the choice she did when she'd finally stood in front of her father with tears in her eyes and spat at him You can't send him away papa. I won't marry that earl and I'm pregnant. What will you do with my bastard then?! They would be free to choose. And she'd made the same promise when they'd left Somerset and she made it again, to herself as she watched Kate stand in that courtyard with tears in her eyes and her fingers twisting through his hair. Right there in the rain, her voice aching.

"Let me talk to my Appa. Let me talk to him, tell him I want to marry you and if he won't let us I'll run away with you anyway because I love you and I want to be your wife, Anthony."

And as Kate walked away Mary made her choice. Truly, she'd made it years ago, and perhaps it was different than almost every woman of the ton would have made. But Mary had never been them.

"Just a moment, young man."

The man, Anthony, Kate had called him, banged right into the stable door on the way to his horse, scrambling in the mud in an effort to find his feet, his eyes wide, terrified.

"I-I-I'm sorry, my Lady, I took a wrong turn, I thought."

"No you didn't." Mary said softly, holding out her hand to help him up. "You know who I am?"

The man's hand shook, as he took her hand, getting to his feet, squaring his shoulders, tilting his chin proudly. "Lady Mary Sharma."

She hummed, "Yes, the mother of the girl who's been sneaking our to see you Mr-?"

"Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, ma'am." He clenched his jaw for a moment, so young with his hair falling in his eyes.

"And you are how old?"

"I'll be Nineteen this September, Ma'am." So Young.

"You are not from London, Mr Bridgerton. What is your occupation?"

He cleared his throat, "I'm from Aubrey in Kent. My family owns a farm there and I work the land with my father."

Mary hummed, "You are not a gentleman."

He took a deep breath. "I am not, and I realise I have asked no permission to court your daughter but I cannot find it in me to apologise for doing such." There was kindness in him, she could see, had seen it in his smile every day when he looked at Kate, Pride as well as he stood in front of her ready to face the consequences. "I love her, Lady Mary, I've asked her to be my wife and Kate means to accept."

Mary's heart hammered in her chest, aching for her daughter, falling in love without her, too scared to tell her. "Are you a good man, sir?"

His jaw clenched. "I like to think so, Ma'am. I work hard, and I don't have much but anything I have I will give to her. She loves me, and I love her, if you send me away I will-"

Mary cleared her throat, smiling gently. "You misunderstand me, Mr Bridgerton. I don't mean to do anything but help you."

"Lady Mary I-"

"I was young once as well, Mr Bridgerton. Young and in love with a man whom no one wanted for me. My daughter will not make the choices I made, and she won't even know it."

His chest was heaving, stood in the courtyard, his eyes wide, a little hopeful. "I'm not sure how you can help."

Mary sighed, picking his cap up from the ground for him. "Mr Bridgerton, you are a very sweet boy, but you will learn, a smart man listens to his wife. Have you any money?"

"Yes ma'am, I-"

"My husband will arrange for you to come in three days time. Got to the Tailor's next to the tea shop across from the far end of the park, give him my name and he will make you a morning coat. If you've not enough money tell him I will settle the remainder of you bill."

He stared at her, this boy who'd been so handsome he'd carried off her daughter without even meaning to, hardly daring to hope. "Lady Mary, I don't know how to thank you."

"You will be a good husband to my daughter. That is how you will thank me."

"I will. I will make her a good husband, I promise. I'll make you glad you helped me. I promise."

Mary sighed, "Good, now be off with you."

"Sweet boy." Mary sighed as she looked at her future son in law, scrambling onto his horse and she went inside and got to work

"The Duke of Sunderland has asked for Kate's hand." Tharman sighed as they settled to bed that night, the candles burning low around him. "I've no idea what to do. I don't even think she likes him."

"She doesn't." Mary sighed, setting her book aside. "I'm going to tell you something and you are going to remember that your second daughter was very nearly born the wrong side of the blanket."

Tharman froze, barely breathing as he said "Put me out of my Misery then."

"Kate is going to come to you tomorrow and tell you she's been meeting a young man in secret and-"

"She's been what?!"

Mary sighed, "Yes, Darling, when she goes out riding in the morning."

"When she-?"

"Goes out riding, Tharman, keep up. His name is Anthony, Mr Bridgerton, He's a Farmer from Kent and she's accepted his proposal."

Her husband stared at her open mouthed in shock, his mind taking a moment to catch up. "I'm not sure what I'm-?"

"You're going to give her a little bit of a hard time and then give in rather easily. Darling. She loves him, and that's the end."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, Darling." She kissed his cheek "He'll be calling in a few days time."

"Am I at least allowed to ask what he's like?" He sighed exasperatedly.

"He's very handsome, I can see why he's turned her head."

"I don't want to hear anymore, actually." He grumbled. "God, this is just like Kate. She's so strong willed."

"Rather. we did quite well with her."

"Yes, we did."

#you might have some bruises au #aus on stacks #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #mary sharma #molly’s asks and answers

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a-little-beanie-boy · 2 years

Text

D(Me) Please //e.m. x s.h.

So, based this off of a post I saw (idk how to format it) if you liked it i’d love a reblog and like, it’s okay if not :)

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/steddie-as-he-goes/692005890427158528?source=share

SMUT WARNING DNI IF NOT 18! Handcuffs, petnames, Steve’s first time bottoming, Eddie being caring and a nervous wreck for Stevie Boy.

Steve didn't really know how it started, and Eddie neither. To everyone in the small-minded town of Hawkins, Indiana; the two went into Eddie's trailer so Steve could purchase drugs, but that was far from the boys' real truth. "Eddie," Steve murmured into his so-far-four-week boyfriend's neck. "What, Stevie?" "I- I think that," Steve took a drag of their dwindling blunt as heat rose to his face, "I think 'm ready." Eddie blinked. Well, shit. "Oh, yeah? You sure, Harrington?" Steve whined in response, nipping at Eddie's porcelain skin and Eddie's inhibition let him finally notice Steve's hard-on and Eddie just couldn't think straight- literally and figuratively. The pretty boy was already on Ed's lap from their cuddle, making a helluva lot easier to kiss Steve's lips, gentle at first- but as soon as Steve made a sound- rough and greedy and Eddie just wanted to taste *only Steve*. He was sure that no weed- scratch that- no drug on Earth could make him as high as Steve could. And Steve, yeah he's kissed a shit-ton of girls in his life, but only started kissing guys (Eddie) last week. So similar, yet completely foreign. Now, Steve had arms over Eddie's shoulders as they shared another kiss, another touch. Now Steve was below, all credit due to Eddie's masterful maneuver, and Steve looked fucking *gorgeous*. The metalhead huffed and asked, "For real, Steve. You want this? I mean like maybe I'm getting the wrong idea, maybe you wanted to try crack cocaine, I don't know, but I thought you wanted sex so I'm sorry if that's not what-" "Jesus Christ, Eddie! I don't want your cocaine! I wanted," Steve mumbles the next part, quiet as he could, "T- The sex." He winced at his word choice. Eddie smirked. "Ahw, baby-girl... Shit wait is that okay like I've only slept with two guys and we haven't been dating long so I dunno what pet-names you like- or if you like any- for that matter I'm just-" "Let's do that, then." "Huh?" Steve took in a breath, looking Eddie in the eyes. "We... We fuck- maybe- and you- we- can try out different petnames for me.?" Munson grinned, "Good idea, and *you* can figure out how to address me." "What do you mean?" Steve kissed Eddie again, just wanting some stimulation. The black-haired boy pointed to the bandanna sticking out of his jeans. "Gay, kinky sex." Steve blinked back, completely confused. "You know- maybe we should've covered this if we're gonna date. I like... men, and I like to be in charge," Eddie took a turn to kiss Steve's neck, speaking in between gentle kisses. Steve whimpered again. God, he didn't care what Eddie was into, as long as it involved him, Steve Harrington. Eddie spoke again. "Use belts..." A tug on Steve's leather belt, which pulled his hips up slightly. "Handcuffs..." This time, Eddie grabbed Steve's wrists, throwing them above the whimpering boy's head and tracing the wrists. The rich boy moaned and Eddie Munson swore he felt his own pupils dilate at that; now fully-hard as well. It hurt. Steve broke. "Oh, *Eddie*. Please, please fuck me holy shit, it hurts so bad." "If you say so, Pretty Boy. Just say stop if you're uncomfortable- or three taps, mkay?" Eddie started undoing his belt, watch Steve nod at the words and writhe underneath him. Both were still fully clothed, but it felt so pornographic already. Steve watched in fascination, quickly trying to undo his own belt. Both removed their pants, it being a bit of a battle with the two both wearing skinny jeans. They're down to boxers and t-shirts now and Steve in whimpering on Eddie's bed. "Call me that again," Steve whispered, trying to hook a leg around Eddie's waist like he'd seen a porno a while back. Only Steve was in the position that girl was. "Pretty Boy?" Steve moaned again, pulling Eddie down successfully to rub against him, vying for all the pleasure he could take. "Hey, hey, don't be greedy. I didn't say you could do that." Well if that didn't awaken anything in Steve, nothing will. *An order*. And Steve would be laying if he didn't want to follow it t the ends of the Earth. Now, Eddie, Eddie watched in awe at how complicit the other was, like putty in his hands. Quicker than he ever has, the guitarist reached an arm below the mattress to grab a white tube. "Wassat?" Steve asked, panting and hips twitching from the need to just be *touched* by the dominant boy. "Lube. Don't worry, it's safe. Well just need it if you're wanting to get fucked." "Oh, yeah, right, S-Sir..? No wait that's how I have to address my dad so nope not that one." Eddie laughed. "How's Daddy, then?" "I'm the one supposed to be a father so nope; it's too weird." "We'll think on it. Now, Stevie, boxers off," Eddie ordered in that same deep gooey voice as last time. That sent Steve scrambling to get them off. "Are you clean?" "What-" "AIDS." "Uhm," Steve blushed, "Yeah, I got checked yesterday, actually. You?" "Of course." Eddie pecked the boy's cheek. "You ready?" "Fuck yes." Eddie opened the lube's lid and poured some on his fingers. "Just tell me if it hurts." "Yeah, yeah. I know," Steve whined, spreading his legs apart, feeling quite vulnerable. Eddie, put one finger to Steve's rim, tracing it. "Oh, you look so *pretty* like this, Stevie." Steve moaned again, lifting hips up weakly. "Can we- fuck- can we use the handcuffs you mentioned?" Eddie, with just his left hand, grabbed the two sets of handcuffs from the bed frame which Steve didn't notice til now, and clipped both of Steve wrists in. "So pretty..." Eddie pushed the first finger in and Steve's cock was leaking even more on his stomach. "Legs wider, Princess." His legs fell apart, wide as they could go as soon as Eddie finished his sentence. "Yes. Yes...Master," Steve wanted to test the waters. Eddie didn't even know he liked that that endearment until Steve said it, causing him to moan slightly and push another finger into Steve to continue to stretch him out; scissor him. Steve moaned at the feeling, it being muffled as Ed bent down to kiss him harsh and rough and desperate. Sweat covered both as Eddie fingered him, and all both wanted was the other. "Close," Steve panted after a short while. "Wait," Eddie said sternly. "Yes, Master." "Such a good boy." Praise sends Steve whining and on Eddie's command, came all over them both.

----------------

Days later, Steve was standing at the doorway to Hellfire, watching his boyfriends, and some of his [Steve's] kids play D&D. "And that's a wrap for today, boys!" Eddie announced, winking at Steve. "C'mere Stevie." Steve did what he learned to do: obey. "Yes, Master," and strides over. Most of the attendees to this day's game were gone by now. Excluding Eddie and Dustin. "Excuse me?" Dustin gasped, and Steve realised he slipped up. "No, I mean that as in-" "YOU'RE PLAYING D&D WITHOUT ME?!" Dustin shrieked, and Eddie couldn't help but smirk and chuckle. "No, we aren't, Dusty," Steve replied, sitting on the table and locks eyes with Ed. "No we are not." "You so are!" Eddie tilts his head, as if to ask, *should we tell him?* Steve nodded. "We're dating, Henderson," Eddie explained. Dustin shook his head. "The lengths you two will go to in order to not let me play D&D with you!" The dating duo then realised explanation wasn't enough. Eddie yanked Steve's collar and kissed him, passionate and gentle. Dustin gagged. "Noooo, you were serious?? Oh my god. Shit, shit, shit. Wait then what did that whole Steve calling you 'Master' mean-" The duo was quiet as the boy had his crisis. "Oh." Dustin balled his hands. "No! No! No! You cannot be like that oh my *God* Steve!" All Steve did? Smile sheepishly and turn around with Eddie; a black bandanna in Ed's left pocket, and a black bandanna in Steve's right pocket.

@steddie-as-he-goes I did this for you I hope you like :))

#steddie #nsft #queer #gay #bottom steve harrington #top eddie munson #gay eddie munson #bi steve harrington #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut

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mynameischalie · 2 months

Text

Militarie Gun 2/14/24 @ The First Unitarian Church

Militarie Gun might have a ridiculous name for a band but there has been a breakthrough where they are reaching people as evident by most of all the sold out shows they are playing here on the Life Under The Gun tour. The First Unitarian Church here in Philadelphia they were greeted by a sold out crowd on Valentines Day. The love is real!

The band's theme is pretty simple, mistakes. Despite the irony of their song "Never Fucked Up Once" the band was pretty candid that people make mistakes but it makes for good songs because as human beings we can relate.

Buffalo's hardcore act, Spaced, took to the stage to begin the night. I have been intrigued by this band for awhile now and I appreciate their vocalist Lexi's energy. Spaced got the pit active and blistered through their songs. They played two new songs off their new record coming out March 22nd on Revelation Records "Landslide" and "Rat Race". Mostly the rest of the set consisted of songs off their record "Spaced Jams". They sounded really tight live which makes sense because they just recently joined this tour. I would be more than willing to see Spaced again. I picked myself up a Snoopy Spaced shirt from them and found it funny that the vocalist folded it like a mom. She was sweet and the rest of the guys in the band were chill. Go support them!

Landslide

Your Universe

Boomerang

rat race

Bad Energy

Tear Me Down

Cycle Killer

Tear It Apart

Not Like You

Point of View

Prove You Wrong

San Francisco's Spiritual Cramp were next. This was my fourth time seeing these dudes. They got a MUCH better reaction than the last time I saw them here with Blacklisted. These guys kicked ass and that's all you really need to know. It's like Talking Heads mixed with Viagra Boys. There's a ton of raw energy that these guys pump out and if you want to discover a more recent band that's worth the hype it's these dudes. Great set!

Blowback

I Feel Bad Bein' Me

Talkin’ On The Internet

Slick Rick

Herberts On Holiday

Catch a Hot One

Phone Line's Down

Nah That Ain't It

Earth to Mike

Better Off This Way

Florida's Pool Kids was a nice change of pace on an already stacked lineup. Pool Kids got a very nice reaction from the crowd and obviously has a built in fan base already. It should be reported the first stage dive of the night came from this Pool Kids set by a guest appearance by Sweet Pill's vocalist. Personally, I enjoyed what PK was supplying for the majority of their set. Some of their songs really hit while others were just meh and did not capture the same energy but I found myself lost in their music. I feel like when they come back here they will most likely be headlining somewhere.

Swallow

That's Physics, Baby

$5 Subtweet

Further

Comes in Waves

I Hope You're Right

Pathetic

Arm's Length

Conscious Uncoupling

Talk Too Much

Militarie Gun was the last to take the stage as the headliners. I'll just say this, Militarie Gun on record has their standout songs BUT a lot of their music can sound the same after awhile. I wanted to see how this translated live and I have to be honest at times during their set the songs kinda blended together and I found myself a little bored. Musically and vocally the band sounded top notch and lots of stage dives were in play here which kept things exciting. The push pit was highly active, yes you heard me the push pit. I had a good time, and I felt like the band pretty much played everything they had to offer from their first two records. I will say the Dazy's "Pressure Cooker" song was one of those songs that was a pleasure to hear live. That song is a banger for sure. They waited on "Do It Faster" to play last which as you can imagine sent the crowd into a frenzy. I enjoyed my first time seeing Militarie Gun but I have to see where they go with the next record sound wise. They are a young upcoming band so they have lots of time to grow and evolve. You should absolutely hit this tour up if you are reading this and perhaps on the west coast. It is an awesome lineup of bands!!

Seizure of Assets

Think Less

Let Me Be Normal

Pressure Cooker(Dazy cover)

My Friends are Having a Hard Time

Return Policy

Will Logic

Don't Pick Up the Phone

Disposable Plastic Trash

Dislocate Me

Ain't No Flowers

Sway Too

Never Fucked Up Once

Big Disappointment

Life Under The Gun

All Roads Lead to the Gun

Song 2(Blur cover)

Very High

Do It Faster

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blackandwhlteaesthetlc · 2 years

Note

When you said you also watched an early screening of mp, does that mean you also saw dwd? If so, impressions? If not, sorry about the ask!!!

I honestly can’t WAIT for this dwd shit to be over and start with mp promo. I’m soooooo looking forward to that!!!!

No need to apologize, anon ❤️

Just finished a big dinner so I’ll do my best to express myself coherently. 😂

Yes, I also watched DWD. It was at an early screening LAST YEAR. I can’t stress that enough. I haven’t watched it recently and I don’t intend to watch it again. I don’t even have a desire to watch it illegally but if people absolutely want to view it? Save your money and find a link here @igotthecinemapop

Be gay, do crime, etc & so forth.

Anyway, I signed multiple NDAs which is pretty standard for the type of event I attended where it was shown. The film is out now so I can share my thoughts freely but please know I’ve been DYING this whole time and really wish I could’ve shared more much sooner. I’m really boring and not a rule breaker though so here we are a year later. 😅

Moving on…You can probably guess I’m not a fan of the movie. And here I’m going to do my absolute best to remove my bias from the situation and explain why speaking strictly as someone that loves and studies film:

The writing is incredibly weak. Multiple plot holes with scenes that go absolutely no where and are never explained. The one that drives me the most crazy is an unnecessary plane crash. Listen, you can have confusing or disorienting scenes so you as the audience member start to take Alice’s side and root for her. She’s confused, you’re confused (we’re all confused, bro) so subconsciously you’re invested in her story and want her to get out of there. But there’s no satisfying payoff to these scenes. It was a jumble of weirdness edited together, it seems, to make you go “huh?” and nothing more.

Cringy, flat dialogue delivered by two-dimensional characters. Kiki Layne and Gemma Chan deserved better. It hasn’t escaped by attention all this time that these two women are woc but were pushed to the background (both in the movie and during promo) in favor of the director getting more screen time. Harry and Chris Pine also deserved better.

Speaking of Harry. Oh, Harry. Jack Chamber’s motivation to incapacitate his girlfriend because she works too many hours and doesn’t have time for him? The “twist” is explained in a rush at the end of the film so when this was revealed, I was already annoyed and disappointed. But this? All that build up to the lamest “ta-da” I’ve seen in a while.

It borrows too blatantly from other more notable films, including GET OUT, THE STEPFORD WIVES, SUSPIRIA, ROSEMARY’S BABY, INCEPTION…I can go on but you get it. And by borrowed, I mean the exact storylines, character designs (Violet has a pixie cut and is a wide-eyed newcomer to the town, too reminiscent of Mia Farrow as Rosemary), actual scene structures. I’m thinking particularly of the ballet studio scenes that had Suspiria written all over it. But Olivia’s “reimagining” did absolutely nothing new except just copy, copy, copy. These weren’t homages, it was just lazy plagiarism. Please watch any of the above, and I can absolutely recommend more, to see how a story like this can actually be executed well.

Was it pretty to look at? Yes. When I got out, I immediately thought “okay, well that’s a nomination for Cinematography and Costumes for sure.” Now, given how everything how panned out? Idk anymore. It may still get technical recognitions, possibly for music too. But I don’t see any acting nominations. If Flo or Chris Pine get nominated, I can’t imagine they’ll campaign too hard for it. And really I don’t blame them.

And now that I’ve brought up acting, I’ll say this about Harry. There are moments, I felt, he overacted because the scene called for him to have big emotions. He’s still a novice to this but he was leagues better in MP so I’m eager to see what he does next, outside of Eternals, because he has tons of promise to get better and better. I think he does well in quieter moments and has a good sense of comedic timing. His face is so expressive, you can see real emotion there when it’s needed. But sometimes, just sometimes, you could see him reaching or trying to pull the emotion forward too forcefully. And it took me out of a couple scenes while watching him DWD. I think he did much better in MP because Tom as a character can be stiffer and more reserved. But don’t get me wrong, his scenes with Emma and David were lovely. I think he felt a real comfort there that allowed him to let go completely.

I don’t think I’ve said anything new here but those were my thoughts from a year ago and I’m sad to see that so many reviews since Venice echoed those same thoughts exactly all this time later. Nothing seemed to get fixed and it’s a shame. I’ve already shared my thoughts on the marketing so no need to reiterate that again.

My last thought is I’m just disappointed for everyone involved that sought out to make a genuinely interesting and entertaining movie without any bullshit. They were let down by the studio and the director in a truly gross fashion.

#dwd #don’t worry darling review #reviews #film talk

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starkcanvas · 1 year

Note

Oh you want Sunny Coma Au Fluff? Well you're gonna get it!

I had a few ideas for how the incident might play out, but I'm gonna go for the less angsty one so Mari gets love and support during this tough time even though she blames herself.

Basically the incident happens how it does in Canon, but with one major difference, Sunny jumps down and grabs onto Mari when she falls, and ends up taking the brunt of the damage and (Without realizing it, saves Mari's life), falls into a coma.

Basil sees this happen, but Mari doesn't see him, He runs and calls an ambulance for him and hides in a panic.

A couple of weeks after this happens Aubrey and Kel stop fighting and team up to make their friends feel better.

Their first target? Basil.

Ever since the incident he hasn't stepped foot outside, so they go visit to check up on him, His grandma is worried about him too so she lets them in and goes to make some snacks for the kids.

It takes a bit, but eventually Basil opens up the door, He looks terrible, like he's been crying and hasn't slept.

So they both end up hugging him and trying to reassure him that "We're sure Sunny will be fine! He may be small! But he's tough!"

After calming down and having something to eat, Basil takes them both to his room and tells them he has to tell them something.

He ends up telling them what he saw on the night, but not what he heard as it was less than flattering to Mari, and he didn't want to upset them anymore than they were already. Plus it was pretty personal and not exactly his place to say

So the kids end up with the view that "The situation is terrible, but Sunny tried his best to protect his sister, So lets try to cheer her up!"

All three of them then go to Hero and try to bring him into the "Sunny and Mari Protection Squad".

So unlike in Canon, Hero isn't in a giant depressive slump because of Mari's 'Suicide'.

He's still depressed because his Unofficial little brother is in a coma and his crush is very much not ok.

They gang up on him when he gets home from trying (And failing) to talk to Mari.

They tell him what Basil Saw and try to convince him to join them.

It works and there's a new member to the "Sunny and Mari Protection Squad".

They work together to try and talk to Mari and let her know that they're on her side and don't blame her for the accident, but this doesn't happen for years due to Mari locking herself inside and being tutored instead of continuing in school.

The attempts still happen, but it calms down over the years as they get demotivated.

One thing they always do though is visit Sunny in hospital.

Basically they'd take turns visiting him after school and they'd spend an hour of two on the weekends either drawing, reading, telling stories, or playing games in there with him because they don't want him to be lonely.

On his birthday they all Help Hero bake a cake and get him some presents so they can celebrate it with him, but also so he'd have gifts when he wakes up.

So one thing I've mentioned before on Miko's blog is that Sunny would be in Mari's Headspace, even when she's awake. But he's also at least semi aware of what's going on around him. So when he's in there he hears the stories, them talking with each other and celebrating. Not only that but any drawing they make for him shows up in there too.

While they never see him really react to them. They do feel a sense of peace after spending time with Sunny and he's always happiest in Headspace during these visits.

I have a lot more ideas, but this ask is already getting long enough so I'll send in more later if you want them! I have a bunch of wholesome Basil Centric ones, and a ton more post good ending ones!

💕💕YESSSSS ALL OF THE WHOLESOME 💕💕

Thank you for this and I’d love to hear more ;w; I wanna join the Sunny and Mari Protection Squad too! 💕

#omori #omori game #omori spoilers #omori aubrey #omori basil #omori hero #omori kel #omori mari #omori sunny #omori au #omori: sunny coma #ask response #text post #text response #mod ask #mod mack #mod answer #mod response #mod text

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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years

Note

you most definitely do not need to answer this if you're not comfortable (or just don't want to), but i saw you say you had grown somewhat resentful of the same mistakes universe and i was curious as to why. i am not personally a writer, but i have a fair amount of friends who are and i have seen similar things happen to them with stories they had put tons of time and effort into, for a variety of different reasons. i know a lot of authors struggle with not getting much interaction on fics, and i can imagine putting something out there that you are proud of and spent a lot of time on and then not hearing anything can feel super disappointing, and also a bit like just chucking your stuff into a void??? i know some other friends of mine have stopped writing because the fandom itself sucked and they were getting weird pointless hate for no reason.

I am definitely sad you've ended/taken a long break from the series, because it's clear you put a ton of time, effort, and care into the same mistakes series, and you developed a character that was deeply nuanced and unique, but also youre doing it all for free and for fun (ideally) so you don't owe anyone anything. I'm for sure rambling at this point but basically i have loved reading the series and i hope somewhere down the line you can start writing again for fun and for yourself!

hey!! i am more than happy to talk about this and the only reason I haven't until now because I wasn't sure anyone really cared and I didn't want it to be misconstrued as whining or ungratefulness. this is probably more of an answer than you were looking for but here we go...

before i came into the top gun fandom, I was very used to chucking my things into the void, as you said. some of my umbrella academy stuff got attention, but aside from a few key mutuals, there wasn't a whole lot. and I was okay with it because I was writing for me and no one else.

and then the og same mistakes trilogy caused my blog to blow up and I was very overwhelmed with the extraordinary overnight attention everything was getting. i went from nothing to so much scrutiny I didn't know what to do. I've gotten to meet and talk to wonderful people because of it, but I've also been subject to some pretty awful hate because of it too. and it never stopped. it just kept getting worse. there was a lot of pressure to deliver consistently and constantly and I felt like no matter what I wrote, I was never appeasing someone. there was always someone who didn't like it and wasn't afraid to tell me so.

ultimately i became resentful because if i never wrote same mistakes, then my blog never would've blown up and i'd never have gotten so much hate. i'd still be writing for me and not judging everything i write before it gets out onto the page. i try to remind myself that i never would've met so many amazing people but that stopped being enough after a little while. when I saw others writing amazing things and get the responses they absolutely deserved while I was being tagged in specific posts for writing things that had overused tropes, I started to wonder what I was doing wrong that I couldn't seem to appease anyone. why it wasn't good enough.

i sort of thought that if i took a step back and focused on other projects, like storm warning and flight risk, things would figure themselves out and the hate would die down and I could come back to same mistakes-verse. uhm, things didn't calm down. the hate didn't stop, as people started taking shots at these other projects (specifically flight risk) and my lack of faith in my writing started extending into my academics.

i've always been pretty proud of my academic writing, and as a historian, it's all I have. but when everyone online is telling you it's shit, and has been telling you that since June, it's hard not to view that for all of your writing. i already feel insecure in my field because I'm still new and honestly this was the last thing I needed.

so i decided to take a step back from all creative writing because it stopped being fun and it stopped being for me and I started hating everything I wrote because I knew no one would like it anyways. i hope it starts being fun again because I miss it and I want to come back to Rebel and Sunshine and Cowgirl and Carolina and all the characters that I love deeply but I don't know when or if that will happen.

#kylie answers #i overshared WHOOPS #same mistakes

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dragonmuse · 2 years

Note

so we already know how lucius' house feels abt horror movies but id love to know who else are horror haters vs horror enjoyers? and for the enjoyers which is their favorite subgenre

Ooooh fun. So you know my baseline, I love reading horror, like watching some kinds of it. Haunting of Hill House, both the original book, the black and white movie and the fucking amazing Netflix series are very much my jam. I'm meh on Stephen King, but absolutely love Clive Barker.

Lucius- No horror, no thanks, except that he does on occasion watch a slasher film because it's on. Not because he likes them, you understand. Sometimes things just fall in front of your eyes. He does read horror novels occasionally. It's his travel genre and lately he's been digging into Joe Hill's earlier work.

Pete- Loves them! All kinds of horror films. He likes other kinds of movies too. Sometimes if they get really really gory he might take a step back, but of course they never really scare him. Pete doesn't get scared! He might get a little more cautions. That's all.

John- Also loves them! But is very easily spooked. He can only watch them with other people and definitely prefers jump-scare style churned out sequels. He has seen a ton of slashers. More art house kind of horror actually scares him even more. Midsommer took about a week off his life.

Frenchie- No. Nope. Not interested, not even a little, thanks. Aliens and ghosts are real and you do not fuck with that shit. He will not hear that some horror movies are not about about those things, it's a blanket no. He has, however, seen all of Hannibal and really loves it. Will not accept that it's technically horror.

Jim- They would never admit it in a million years, but they saw Sixth Sense as a kid and it gave them nightmares for weeks. They absolutely will not watch a horror movie if they can figure a way out of it.

Oluwande- Not his thing. He will if other people want to see it and be okay with it, but he's not looking for it. He does like campfire ghost stories and urban legends though. When he was a kid, he read a ton of R.L. Stine. He and Roach have an inside joke about Mothman.

Stede- Loves a creature feature, the more vintage the better (he did get Alma started on them after all). Always had a soft spot for Swamp Thing. He saw the Ed Wood biopic several times. Many times. Let's not dissect that. He has a low tolerance for anything bloody, will not watch anything with torture in it. He's the Shirley Jackson fan of the bunch, but his favorite is We Have Always Lived in a Castle.

Eddy- Omnivore movie watcher thanks to years of insomnia in hotel rooms, so they've seen a lot of horror along with everything else. She comes in on the more 'no thanks' side these days. Once they bought Pan's Labyrinth on pay-per-view without knowing what it was and wound up watching it all the way through twice. They still think about it sometimes and aren't sure why. Maybe it's the eyeballs in the hands thing.

Alma- Has and will watch anything she can get her hands on. She especially loves monster movies because those are her roots, but she has branched out and is not deterred by subtitles. Vampire movies are probably her all time favorite and even though it's not really horror, her all time fave vampire flick is Only Lovers Left Alive.

Roach- Eh. It doesn't scare him, but he doesn't much like it either. Does absolutely love a cryptid though. He doesn't think they're real, but...what if they were, you know?

Izzy- He likes mysteries which can sometimes verge into horror territory. Also he likes Hitchcock a lot. He's got a black and white film sensibility all the way around. A lot of the mystery series he reads verge into pretty graphic horror like territory too, especially the serial killer stuff. He really liked the Archie Sheridan and Gretchen Lowell series by Chelsea Cain.

Charlie- Cannot watch even a single minute, but can read the absolute goriest stuff imaginable. The book he mentions to Izzy in the latest chapter is real by the way. Dan Wells 'I Hunt Killers' series is supernatural Dexter for teens and it's great and Charlie loves it.

Buttons- Never watches them, but was once an extra in a zombie movie and they let him keep his costume so he has that in his closet. Also, he was once mistakenly spotted and reported as cryptid on a reddit forum.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ask answered

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aquaquadrant · 2 years

Text

nature’s productions - chapter four

Rated T for: Strong language, blood/injury

Summary: Three years after the disaster at Jurassic World, Claire Dearing and Owen Grady are contracted for a mission to save as many dinosaurs as possible from the impending eruption on Isla Nublar. But when they arrive, they experience an unexpected complication; six teenagers who were left stranded on the island when the park closed.

Surviving has left the campers scarred in more ways than one, and they’re pretty sure that their would-be rescuers have less than good intentions. But with a volcanic eruption at their heels, they’ll do whatever it takes to get a ride home- and save the dinosaurs while they’re at it, because that’s kind of their thing.

A/N: And we’re back to your regularly-scheduled dinosaur fic! I’m glad to see people getting excited for how things are gonna turn out- it’s gonna start heating up here soon! As always, you can read on A03 for complete tags. Hope you enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua

~*~

chapter four - laws of variation

~*~

Owen slowly comes into being, emerging from a dark, dreamless void.

For his first few seconds of consciousness, he’s not sure where he is. He can’t open his eyes and his entire body is in pins and needles. It’s like that time he had sleep paralysis, but without the hallucinated demon. There’s silence all around him- or rather, ambient silence, the air filled with jungle noises and distant rumbling.

Memories come back in flashes. Raptor calls. Claire’s voice in his ear. Blue, moving towards his hand before a dart appears in her neck. Shouting, roaring, a gunshot. Wheatley’s gun aimed at his chest. Pain, and then-

A voice breaks through the silence.

“Okay, I can’t hear the troopers anymore. We should be good.”

It’s the girl, Brooklynn. Relief washes through Owen- she must be speaking to her companions, which means the kids are all safe. Or, well, as safe as they can be when they’re stuck on an island full of dinosaurs that’s about to be buried in ash and lava.

“I think he’s still unconscious,” another voice says. Ben, if Owen had to guess.

“Owen, can you hear us?” Brooklynn’s voice is startlingly close; Owen had forgotten how quietly those kids move.

Owen attempts to talk, but what happens instead is a strangled groan deep in his throat. His eyelids weigh a ton, as if his lashes have turned into lead, but with tremendous effort, he finally manages to crack them open.

Brooklynn and Ben’s faces swim into focus, backlit by the scarce light through the canopy. The teens look none the worse for wear, but it’s only the two of them. Darius is nowhere to be seen- and neither is anyone else, for that matter; man, woman, or dinosaur.

Ben makes an appraising noise, though his expression remains stoic. “Oh good, you must not’ve gotten the full dose.”

“Here.” Brooklynn reaches down to grab Owen under the arm. “The faster we get his blood circulating, the faster it’ll wear off.”

Together, the teens pull Owen into a sitting position, bracing his forehead against his knees. The sudden rush of blood from his head makes his vision black out for a moment, like he’s stood up too quickly, but it passes soon enough. His position partially obscures his view, but he can start to feel more sensation prickling throughout his body, so it must be working.

Brooklynn, crouched beside him, clears her throat. “So uh, last we saw, Blue’s still alive. Darius and Zia went with them, they’re gonna do everything they can to save her.” She tilts her head to catch Owen’s eye and offers a smile. “And don’t worry, we’d already been expecting a double-cross at some point. This was all part of the plan.”

Owen’s mind is racing. They’ve been expecting this? Well, now he feels even more stupid for not expecting it, himself. He’s not sure if this is Wheatley hijacking the mission for his own purposes, or if the whole thing was a ruse from the start. But either way, all the dinosaurs being loaded onto that boat sure as hell aren’t headed to a sanctuary.

Blue included. She seemed to be of particular importance to Wheatley, and Owen dreads what that means for her.

Their group is separated into three parts. That’s not good. And judging by how loud the rumbling from the volcano’s getting, they’re running out of time. That’s worse. But Brooklynn and Ben don’t seem the slightest bit fazed, which has Owen wondering, not for the first time, what exactly they’ve been through over these last three years.

Whatever it was, it’s prepared them to handle this crisis far better than anyone would expect of a couple teenagers.

“Plan is a bit generous,” Ben says dryly. “It implies ample forethought, when we’ve mostly just been winging it.” Almost absent-mindedly, he takes one of Owen’s arms and starts swinging it in large circles- to improve circulation, Owen assumes.

“Winging it is kind of a plan,” Brooklynn defends, rising to her feet. Owen can see her move away out of the corner of his eye, though she keeps her volume steady. “Anyway, once this sedative wears off, we’ve got to meet up with the others at the security building. Hopefully the troopers just like, ditched them, and didn’t try to actually kill them.”

“Hopefully,” Ben agrees. “For the troopers’ sake.”

Brooklynn makes a sharp exhale that might be a laugh. “And then we just have to sneak onto the boat. I’m sure Darius is already working on that.”

“Sure he is,” Ben says easily, switching to Owen’s other arm. “He always knows what to do.”

Owen’s starting to get feeling back in his hands, his fingers twitching in response. Now that his shock has worn off and he’s processed everything, it’s like a shot of adrenaline is coursing through him. If they don’t find the others and make it to the boat soon, they’re going to be left to die on this island. There’ll be no rescue for them; no one outside of the mission even knows they’re here, and it’s not like Wheatley will be volunteering that information.

An explosion rings off somewhere in the distance, as if the volcano itself is telling him to get a move on. Owen redoubles his efforts to gain control of his paralyzed muscles.

“Got his helmet and vest off,” Brooklynn reports. She’s out of Owen’s field of view so he can’t see who she’s referring to, but he can guess; he knows Blue took down at least one trooper.

“Anything else useful?” Ben asks.

Brooklynn makes a noncommittal noise. “A gun, and one of those radios.” It’s clear from her tone that she doesn’t consider either of those items particularly useful.

“Ah.” Ben grunts dismissively, seeming to agree with her. “Gun’s too loud.”

“Yeah, and the radio probably won’t help, either. These don’t seem like private frequencies.” Brooklynn tuts. “Too bad. It’d be nice to check in with the others.”

“They’ll be alright,” Ben tells her, his voice softening.

Brooklynn lets out a heavy breath. “I know.” Suddenly she’s next to Owen again, dropping a helmet and a combat vest onto the ground in a heap. “How we doing, Owen?”

In response, Owen manages to lift his head, making another wordless groan of affirmation.

“Good.” Brooklynn grins at him before glancing at Ben. “We should get going. Let’s get this disguise on so we can start moving him.”

As Brooklynn and Ben start buckling the vest around his chest, an odd sound pricks at Owen’s ears. It’s… almost a bubbling sound, somewhere behind him. With an embarrassing amount of effort, he finally flops his head around to look over his shoulder… and then his eyes widen.

Lava, slowly creeping along the jungle floor. It moves almost like a living entity, rolling over the earth and setting fire to the bordering foliage. And it’s dangerously close, like less than a yard away.

Suddenly, the helmet is plopped down on Owen’s head, tinting his vision in gray. Through the visor, Brooklynn gives him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” she says, buckling the chinstrap, “we didn’t want to panic you. But yeah, there definitely is lava coming our way.”

“But don’t worry,” Ben says, draping one of Owen’s arms across his shoulders. “A little fire never killed anyone.”

Brooklynn laughs, grabbing Owen’s other arm to do the same. “Yeah, just ask Toro.”

Together, they start to carry Owen off into the jungle like he’s their drunk friend on a night out, his boots dragging in the soil. The height difference makes it a little awkward, and even Ben is a few good inches shorter than Owen, but it’s not slowing them down.

Ben snorts. “You can’t just ask Toro,” he says, “because-”

“You and Bumpy defeated him,” Brooklynn interrupts good-naturedly, “I know.”

“Hey, come on, Owen’s never heard this story,” Ben points out, though he sounds amused, too.

“They pushed a Carnotaurus off a cliff,” Brooklynn says swiftly. “There, story told.”

Ben makes an incredulous noise. “You know, just ‘cause you guys are all sick of hearing it doesn’t mean everyone is. And for the record, I tell it a lot better.”

Brooklynn scoffs, and Owen’s almost positive she’s rolling her eyes. “Yeah, because you’ve had so much practice.”

“Well, how did you feel when you single-handedly defeated one of the biggest carnivores on the island? Oh wait, you haven’t.”

“Come on, dude, we all know Bumpy deserves most of the credit.”

They devolve into friendly bickering, acting like they aren’t dragging a barely-conscious near stranger wearing a dead man’s clothes away from flowing lava, right after being betrayed and left to die by their only chance for salvation. Like they don’t have to make it safely across an island full of dinosaurs before the volcano blows and their only way home leaves forever. Like their friends aren’t all separated, potentially injured, or worse and all they can do is stick to their hastily-constructed plan and hope it works out.

No, instead of worrying about all this, they joke about the time one of them killed a Carnotaurus.

And all the while, Owen can only think to himself, ‘Who the hell are these kids?’

~*~

Chaos emerges from the tunnel in all her terrible glory.

The Baryonyx stands taller than a full grown man, with powerful, muscular limbs and wicked sharp claws. Dagger-like teeth peek out from under the lips of her long, pointed snout, reminding Sammy of Darius’s theory that the Baryonxes were created using crocodile DNA as a base. Her bluish-gray scales are dulled with ash and she looks slightly haggard, carrying her head lower than normal.

It’s been at least a couple months since the herds’ last run-in with the Baryonyxes, but Chaos recognizes them instantly. A low growl starts up in her throat; clearly, none of her memories of them are fond. It almost makes Sammy regret that time she convinced Darius to help her out by freeing Grim from the veterinary station. Blue probably remembers the time Darius helped her… maybe Sammy should’ve joined the raptor squad, instead.

Kenji nudges Franklin with his elbow. “See that scar?” he asks, nodding at an old slash mark on Chaos’s face. “My boyfriend did that.”

“Not the time, Kenj,” Yaz growls, adjusting her grip on her knife.

Kenji makes an affronted noise. “There’s always time to brag about how awesome your boyfriend is!”

Snarling, Chaos steps fully into the room. She starts stalking along the length of the wall as her sharp gaze flicks between them- Claire and Franklin’s presence has her uncertain. Tail lashing back and forth, she suddenly snaps at the air, testing them.

Yaz reacts first. “Everyone, scream!”

Franklin immediately lets out the shrillest, most terrified horror-movie scream ever heard by present company.

Yaz fights the urge to facepalm. “Not that kind of scream!” she shouts, before demonstrating exactly what she means. Sammy and Kenji join her in screaming at Chaos- a fierce ‘back off’ kind of scream as they wave their weapons.

Recovering quickly from her shock, Claire joins them, waving her arms above her head to make herself look bigger. Franklin gives it a good effort, but his uncertain yell is easily drowned out by the rest of their voices.

Lip curling with displeasure, Chaos backs off, turning her attention to the rest of the room.

Sammy hesitates; it’s not like Chaos to give up so easily. She looks a little singed, as if she’d passed through the volcano’s splash zone, but otherwise seems uninjured. Even if she’s eaten recently and isn’t in the hunting mood, the Baryonyxes have always been more aggressive than most dinosaurs. It’s strange that she isn’t trying to attack them, given their history.

And then Sammy realizes why, her heart jolting. “Wait, where’s Limbo?”

Yaz casts a quick glance down the tunnel. “Uh, maybe they got split up ‘cause of the eruption?”

“Limbo?” Claire asks, her voice tight with fear. “Is there another one?”

“Yeah,” Sammy says worriedly, “they’re usually inseparable.”

“Maybe she already got snatched?” Kenji suggests.

“Um, you guys?” Franklin breaks in, his voice high and panicked. “Can we just focus on getting out of here?”

“Oh, right.” Yaz jerks her head over at the back corner. “There, ladder to the roof. We’ll hold her, you go pull it down.”

Franklin swallows. “O- okay-”

As soon as he turns around, exposing a vulnerability, Chaos leaps forward and takes a swipe at them. The campers immediately shout her down, with Kenji’s machete providing extra incentive for her to stay away. Franklin, in the meantime, has thrown himself against the wall, screaming.

Chaos backs away, hissing ruefully. She might not be confident enough to take them all on by herself, but she’ll certainly take advantage of weaknesses.

“Don’t turn your back!” Sammy shouts over her shoulder.

“God!” Trembling, Franklin starts slowly backing up towards the ladder, one hand stretched out to feel behind him as his wide eyes stay locked on Chaos. “I hate this, I hate this so much!”

“Stop whining!” Yaz snaps.

A few seconds later, there’s a clanging sound. “It’s stuck!” Franklin says frantically.

Yaz tries not to roll her eyes. The ladder can’t be more than six feet off the ground. “We can boost each other up,” she says. “Let’s go. Claire, you first.”

With a shaky nod, Claire shuffles backwards as per the campers’ instructions. Once she’s positioned next to Franklin, Yaz catches Sammy and Kenji’s gazes before nodding.

Moving as a unit and staying in formation, the campers back up towards the ladder, never taking their eyes off Chaos. Fortunately, the Baryonyx is preoccupied with checking out the rest of the room, sniffing and scratching at the wall with increasing agitation.

As soon as they reach the ladder, Sammy sheathes her knife and drops into a crouch, bracing her hands on her knee with interlocked fingers. Kenji shifts around to put himself between them and Chaos, keeping guard.

Wordlessly, Yaz sheathes her knife and puts her hands on Sammy’s shoulders, while placing her good foot in the sling Sammy’s hands have made. In one swift movement, Sammy boosts Yaz up, allowing her to grab the ladder and hook her foot onto the last rung.

As Yaz starts climbing, Sammy grins at Claire and Franklin. “Your turn!”

Claire exchanges a nervous glance with Franklin before stepping forward. Uncertainly, she attempts to copy Yaz’s movements- and although it’s not nearly as graceful, she manages to get up onto the ladder and start climbing. Franklin’s attempt doesn’t go any smoother, but Claire helps pull him up by the shirt of his collar.

By the time both of them are up, Yaz has already reached the top and opened the hatch. Which is precisely why Sammy sent her first; they couldn’t count on Claire or Franklin’s ability to unscrew the rusted metal in a timely manner.

Kenji double-checks to make sure Chaos is preoccupied before sheathing his machete. He boosts Sammy up, and then simply jumps to catch the ladder- his height granting him the last little bit of clearance needed- and pulls himself up after her.

“Let the record show I successfully did a pull-up today,” he says proudly.

Watching from above, Yaz huffs. “When we get home, I’ll give you a trophy for ‘Most Improved Camper,’ alright?” Reaching a hand down, she helps Claire and Franklin climb out onto the roof of the security building.

“For some reason,” Kenji says indignantly, he and Sammy close behind, “I don’t think you’re being sincere.”

There’s a snarl from below; Chaos has noticed their departure. And of course, she has to get the final word in. Suddenly appearing at the bottom of the ladder, Chaos roars and rams her head against it, sending shockwaves up through the metal.

Sammy and Kenji scramble up the last few rungs just as Chaos jumps up to snap at them, claws tearing through the metal ladder like paper. Once they’re out, Yaz slams the hatch back down, muting Chaos’s furious cries.

The group pauses to catch their breath. If Franklin’s shaking is any indication, he’s experiencing the post-attack rush of adrenaline, shocked into silence. Claire seems to be faring better, taking the time to scan their surroundings. The troopers are long gone, of course, and the valley is otherwise empty.

As Sammy listens to Chaos roar below them, a thought strikes her. “There… isn’t another way out of this building, is there?” she asks, her stomach sinking.

Yaz shrugs. “Well, she could leave the way she came.”

“Back towards the volcano?” Kenji asks, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, not happening. She probably came inside to find shelter.”

Sammy bites her lip. “She’s trapped.”

Expression softening, Yaz puts a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “Can’t be helped,” she says gently.

The herd has a… complicated relationship with dinosaurs. Every one of them has been hurt before, some near-fatally, and the threat of attack is constant. Almost every single terrifying nightmare of theirs features a dinosaur in some way. But at the same time, they all know that dinosaurs are just animals, doing animal things. They aren’t destructive, monstrous, killing machines.

Well, excluding the hybrids. Those things were messed up.

In any case, they never like seeing dinosaurs suffer. Especially if they can do something about it. They’ve put themselves at risk to help dinosaurs time and time again- but this time, there’s truly nothing they can do.

Sammy sighs before glancing sidelong at Kenji. “Any partin’ words?”

Kenji takes a brief second to consider it. “Thanks for not taking my eye, you overgrown salamander,” he says sincerely.

Yaz snorts. “Poetry.”

Sammy knits her brows together. “But salamanders are amphibians, ain’t they?”

Kenji gives a long-suffering groan. “Ugh, you sound like Darius.”

Before they can bicker further, a loud crack echoes out across the valley. Rock erupts from the side of the volcano, accented by a spray of lava as the building pressure inside tries to find a path of least resistance. The hissing and popping is at an all-time high, and the amount of smoke and gas billowing out of the top is almost enough to blot out the whole sky.

Yaz glances over the group, sobering instantly. Back to business.

“Okay, time to go.”

~*~

Darius has a headache.

Not that it’s at all important. There’s just been a lot of shouting- both in person and over the radio- during the convoy’s trip back to the docks. Darius is used to loud noises; dinosaurs aren’t exactly quiet. But there’s something about the din of multiple voices talking at once that just grates on him. After three years on a deserted island, he’s not used to being around so many people, and it’s jarring to listen to five different conversations simultaneously.

Fortunately, he’s been largely left to his own devices. He ended up on a different transport than Zia and Blue, tucked into the corner of a trailer packed with nervous troopers. They’re like panicked animals, all snapping and barking into their radios about timelines and quotas and- don’t you dare leave without us, we have the raptor, just give us ten minutes, well I didn’t see you volunteering for the mission, so quit whining and just be patient!- et cetera.

Darius is almost surprised by their lack of faith, but then he remembers their complete and utter inaction when Blue attacked one of the troopers. Not a single person tried to help him. The world they come from is rather cut and dry, it seems.

The noise doesn’t get any better as their truck approaches the docks. They’re greeted by a scene of pure chaos- people running around shouting as dinosaurs are being moved on trailers and herded into shipping containers and flown in via helicopter. Darius can understand their urgency; the volcano is starting to spew lava and flying rocks now, from several offshoot vents bursting through its sides. It won’t be long before the volcano blows its top completely.

Darius prays his herd is close.

The driver of their truck lays on the horn to clear a path, making Darius wince. Without slowing down, they roll right up the ramp into the cavernous ship and jerk to a halt. The noise is intensified here, hundreds of voices- human and dinosaur- echoing off the metal walls. Darius’s skull buzzes with it.

Instantly, the doors are thrown open and the troopers flood out, dispersing to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what. Despite being safely aboard the ship, it’s clear the danger hasn’t passed. Through the mouth of the hold, the volcano looms ever present above them, the sky dark with ash despite it being midday.

Darius unfolds himself from his corner and creeps to the back of the truck, cautiously poking his head out. The hold has been transformed into a maze, with walls of large shipping crates and cages and trucks. Right next door, he can see the truck that Zia boarded, and amid the chaos is the sound of Blue’s screeches.

Hopping to the floor, Darius quickly darts towards the back of the trailer, pushing aside the canvas flaps that make up the door.

It’s a little quieter here, all the outside noise muffled by the canvas stretched between the metal framing. The inside is rather spacious for a trailer, though it only has two occupants. Blue lays strapped to a makeshift table of crates, underneath a precariously dangling fluorescent light. She’s only half-conscious, if her sluggish movements are any indication, but still highly agitated. Her side is smeared bright red with blood, and the fabric that Zia’s pressing against the wound is soaked through.

Zia’s head snaps up at Darius’s entrance. “Oh, it’s you.” She sounds too preoccupied to be properly wary of him, though, and Darius can see in her eyes that her mind is racing. “If you really want to help, then come take my place so I can start surgery prep.”

Wincing, Darius shakes his head. “H- have to, uh, help th- the others,” he tells her, pulling his knife from his sheath.

“What?” Zia demands breathlessly, sounding caught between indignation and confusion. “What do you mean? What are you doing?”

Well, that’ll take much too long to explain. Darius holds a finger up in the universal sign for ‘hold on a minute’ before slipping his hand through his knife’s strap, starting to slice through the vines holding his armor in place. The tree bark stands out too much, and he doesn’t have time to fumble with all the knots. Even so, his hands are shaking more than usual- probably from the nerves- and he earns a few small nicks for his efforts before the vines fall away, letting the tree bark clatter to the floor.

Now wearing just his T-shirt and shorts, Darius feels incredibly exposed. “T- trust me,” he says, resheathing his knife and tucking his shirt over it. Glancing around, he spots a plain gray jacket lying on the floor in a forgotten heap, and quickly pulls it on. “Be r- r- right ba- ack.”

Darius hates to leave Zia in this state, but he has to go secure a way for the others to sneak onboard. Before she can object, he slips out of the trailer.

Re-entering the chaos sends a wave of pain through his head, but he doesn’t let it disorient him. Walking with purpose, Darius starts moving towards the back of the ship, keeping his gaze forward and focused. It’s unlikely many people even know about his presence here. This is an enormous crew, and Wheatley wouldn’t have had the time to notify them about their new charge, with everything else going on. So if Darius looks like he’s doing what he’s supposed to, he probably won’t get stopped.

Even if he’s a little short for a mercenary. He could always claim to be a deckhand.

Darius makes it back onto the dock without issue, the ground rumbling under his feet. Standing by the ramp, he waves on a fleet of approaching trucks, if only to look like he’s actually doing something as he takes a moment to form a plan.

There are lots of containers still waiting to be loaded up. Those would easily conceal the whole group. But each probably contains an angry dinosaur, who may or may not be fully sedated, and it’s unlikely they’d get loaded up without someone checking the contents.

In all the frantic movement of the docks, an area of stillness catches Darius’s eye. A single truck is sitting idle towards the end of the dock. There’s no one in the driver’s seat- two men stand a good ways off, arguing loudly about something.

Before Darius has a chance to second-guess himself, he’s walking towards it. Schooling his expression into one of tense focus, he maintains an urgent demeanor that’s fitting for the situation- that volcano is looking awfully close to erupting, after all- but not overly suspicious.

As Darius approaches the two men, snippets of the conversation start to become more clear. One of them is upset because the other came back empty-handed, insisting he should go try and snag another dinosaur. The other man, the driver, thinks that’s utterly ridiculous- an opinion that Darius privately shares. Now that the driver has been identified, Darius catches the glint of a car key hanging from his belt.

There’s his target.

Without breaking stride, Darius loops around a couple of shipping containers so he can approach from behind. Once out of sight, he pauses for a precious second, straining to hear above all the noise-

“Whatever, just get the truck on the boat.”

Now.

Darius emerges from behind the containers and starts jogging towards the ship, at an angle that’ll put the driver directly in his path. The driver has only just started to turn back towards the truck when Darius slams into him.

“S- sorry!” Darius gasps out, pushing past the driver. And as he does, his other hand closes around the key, subtly lifting it off the belt.

“Watch it!” the driver calls after him.

Without looking back, Darius stays on his path for one second, two seconds, three seconds- before ducking behind the shipping containers, out of sight. The key is closed within his fist, and he doesn’t hear the driver call again.

Heart pounding, Darius waits. He turns towards the container and busies himself with the doors, as if securing the heavy padlock that’s holding them shut.

It comes after a couple more seconds. “Shit,” the driver swears, “I don’t have the key!”

“Just leave it!” another voice yells.

Darius stays where he is as the driver runs past him. He braces himself, in case he’s spotted and recognized and the driver thinks to suspect him- but nothing happens. He waits just long enough for the footprints to recede before discreetly checking his surroundings.

The docks are gradually clearing out, and the only people left around are frantically attempting to load up more dinosaurs. No one’s looking his way, which means that now is as good an opportunity as any.

Still walking that line between ‘on urgent business’ and ‘being very suspicious,’ Darius doubles back towards the truck. It’s some kind of jeep, with no doors on the front cab, so he easily hops inside and ducks out of view from the windshield.

A cursory glance proves the back cabin of the truck is empty, too, with plenty of room for eight people- well, seven, if Owen’s driving. There are no windows on the sides, and the back is covered with a flap of canvas- perfect for concealing them. Darius sticks the key into the ignition, without turning it, and leaves as quickly as he arrived.

Everyone else on the docks is moving towards the ship with their respective cargos, without noticing or caring about the truck left behind. Darius knows his herd will find it, and they’ll know exactly what to do with it.

No one stops him on his way into the ship. But as he retraces his steps back towards Zia’s trailer, he suddenly finds Wheatley directly in his path, standing around and shouting at some deckhands.

Well, too late to avoid him now. Darius continues towards the trailer, forming a plan as he goes.

It doesn’t take long for Wheatley to spot him, his mouth falling open in shocked outrage. “What’re you doing out here?” he demands.

Darius turns his stutter up to eleven. “I- I- I’m s- sorry, s- sir, I uh, I j- just- I- I was j- just um, just- I w- was just-”

“Enough!” As expected, Wheatley doesn’t have the patience for his stammering. “Just get back into that trailer and stay put, understand?”

Darius nods quickly, hiding the wave of relief and satisfaction that rushes through him as he ducks past Wheatley and into the trailer. Mission accomplished. He knows it was only so easy because this expedition is total disorganized chaos, but he’ll take what he can get.

Zia’s still hunched over Blue, right where Darius left her. She looks over at him in surprise. “You came back.”

It’s clear from her tone that she didn’t expect him to. Darius gives her an apologetic smile before sliding next to her, wordlessly offering her his hands. He’ll wait to explain everything until after Blue is stable- it’s likely Zia wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until then, anyways.

If Zia’s still curious about his brief errand, she doesn’t care enough to question him further. At least, not right now. “Keep steady pressure on this artery,” she says briskly, taking Darius’s hands and placing them over the bloody fabric. “Right here.”

Darius nods, unflinching as his hands quickly become covered in still-warm blood.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

~*~

Ben scrambles back down the tree as quickly as he’d climbed it.

“This way,” he informs a waiting Brooklynn and Owen. Without another word, he and Brooklynn start running again, leaving Owen to catch up.

Once they’d gotten Owen up and somewhat walking, it didn’t take long for the sedative to wear off. Now that they don’t have to carry him, they’ve been making good time, leaving the lava far behind them. Normally, they’d exercise more caution when traveling through the jungle, but right now, the threat from the eruption is greater than the threat of a dinosaur attack. The few dinos they’ve seen are too preoccupied with running away to notice or care about them.

The volcano still grumbles, though, occasionally shooting a rock into the air.

After double-checking their position, Ben is confident that the security building lies just beyond this patch of jungle. He just hopes the others are still there. It’s possible they’ve already started heading towards the boat, but he’d feel much better about sneaking onboard if they were all together.

“You really weren’t kidding,” Owen pants, struggling to keep pace with them, “when you said you know this island.”

Brooklynn huffs a laugh as she vaults over a fallen tree trunk. “That’d be a weird thing to joke about.”

Once they push through a final patch of ferns, the jungle opens up into a valley. Tall grass sways with the wind, rolling in waves like an ocean of green. The security building lies across from them; they’ve approached it from the back. At a glance, it’s deserted, with no troopers lingering outside. But Brooklynn pauses- there’s a faint noise from inside, muffled by the distance and concrete, but still identifiable.

“Wait,” she breathes, grabbing both Ben and Owen by the arm. “There’s a dinosaur inside the building.”

Well, that’s an unfortunate and recent development.

Frowning, Ben sweeps his gaze over the valley. There- far down the sloping hills, at the bottom of the basin, is a small group of figures moving away from the security building. Ben counts five people in total, and breathes a sigh of relief. At this distance, they’re nothing more than tiny colored blobs, but he’d know Kenji, Yaz, and Sammy anywhere.

“Look, they made it.” Ben points them out before putting his fingers to his lips, giving a double whistle.

The group stops abruptly, colors shifting as they turn and look around. Someone must’ve spotted them, because a couple of them put their arms up and start waving as an answering whistle rings out.

Brooklynn laughs, relieved, and starts leading the way down into the valley. “C’mon, we can’t keep Yaz waiting. You know she runs a tight ship.”

“Like you don’t,” Ben snorts.

And then the ground starts to shake.

That’s Ben’s first warning. Meanwhile, Brooklynn has already heard the rapidly-approaching footsteps; many, many footsteps. Instantly, she knows exactly what’s happening.

“Stampede!”

No further discussion is needed; they all start sprinting.

Running downhill at full speed is a dangerous game to play against gravity, but Brooklynn and Ben have had plenty of practice. Owen lags behind a bit, his steps less certain; there’s nothing they can do to help him but hope he keeps up. As they run, Ben tries to call ahead to the others.

“Run! Stampede!”

He’s not sure if they can hear him, but when the first dinosaurs break the treeline, they get the message, anyways. The group starts running- it looks like Yaz is on Kenji’s back, leaving Sammy in the lead.

“Stay on them!” Brooklynn calls.

Once they’re in the jungle, it’ll be hard enough for her to see where she’s going without keeping an eye on the group ahead of them. Her depth perception is always worse when she’s running, and slamming into a tree is the last thing she needs.

Ben swerves in front of Brooklynn, so that she can more easily follow in his footsteps. The other group is almost out of the valley now, approaching the wall of jungle on the other side. If Ben loses them here, if they get split up, they might not all make it to the boat in time.

The pressure only increases as the stampeding dinosaurs start to catch up to them. It’s the small, fast ones first- Gallimimuses, a couple Pachycephalosaurs, and a whole mess of compies darting underfoot. Brooklynn can hear the heavy footsteps and panicked bellows of the larger ones far behind them, crashing through the undergrowth. As if the erupting volcano alone wasn’t enough incentive to get the heck out of dodge.

Ben keeps his gaze forward, keen eyes watching for every and any sign as to what direction their friends have gone. “Stay close!” he shouts over his shoulder as they approach the jungle.

As soon as they burst through the treeline, their run becomes ten times harder. The ground is still uneven, peppered with rocks and bushes and stumps, and they can hardly take three steps before having to swerve around a tree. These obstacles cost them some of their speed- and as a consequence, Brooklynn hears the bigger dinosaurs gaining on them, plowing through earth and trees alike, completely unhindered.

“We’re about to have company!” she warns, speeding up enough to grab Ben’s arm. With so much noise in the air, he won’t pinpoint a dinosaur bearing down on him in enough time to swerve. So she’ll let him be her eyes while she acts as his ears; a trade-off they’re well familiar with.

Together, they weave through the jungle, dodging the thick foliage and the passing dinosaurs alike. All Brooklynn has to do is tug Ben’s arm in the direction they need to swerve, a wordless communication not unlike the kind he uses to steer Bumpy. It’s surprisingly effective; every now and then, she spares a glance behind them to make sure they haven’t fully lost Owen.

After what feels like hours but could only have been a minute, the jungle gives way to a clearing. There’s little foliage here, the ground sloping gently down towards a cliff facing the ocean. The cracked, sun-bleached trunk of a great tree lies about halfway down, and that’s when Ben spots color.

“I see them!” he shouts, not breaking stride even as Brooklynn steers them out of the path of a charging Stegosaurus. “Head for that tree!”

The three of them make it to the tree without incident, diving behind it for cover. Ben is proved correct; Kenji, Yaz, Sammy, Claire, and Franklin are huddled in the shelter of the tree trunk. The former three are silent, tense, and alert, not at all surprised by the trio’s sudden appearance. The latter two are screaming their heads off.

“Nice of you to join us!” Kenji shouts above the noise.

“Where’s Darius?” Sammy asks, at the same time as Claire gathers herself enough to grab Owen’s arm and ask, “Where’s Zia?”

“They went with Wheatley and Blue,” Brooklynn answers. “We’ll meet up on the boat.”

Franklin looks very close to screaming again as he throws his hands up in the air. “How are we-”

A large piece of the trunk splinters away as an Ankylosaurus plows through it, kicking up a cloud of dirt and making Franklin and Claire scream. The whole group shuffles towards the other side of the tree, where a gyrosphere has rolled into view. Judging by the mud caked onto its sleek surface, it was thrown from its resting place in the jungle by the stampede.

“Look!” Claire shouts, pointing at the gyrosphere. “Maybe we can-”

“No!” Brooklynn interrupts firmly, “those things are death traps!”

“So what do we do?” Owen demands.

“Just wait,” Yaz says, bracing herself as the tree is jostled by fleeing dinosaurs. “The stampede will pass soon enough-”

“Uh, guys?” Sammy calls, her head poking up over the tree. “You might wanna see this.”

Stomach sinking, Brooklynn turns to peek around the tree. A dark cloud is rolling down from the volcano. Trees bend and snap in its wake, telling her it’s traveling with considerable wind force. It’s tall and wide, like a wall of fog steadily moving towards them, completely unavoidable.

Could just be ash. Or, there could be deadly toxic gas in there. Brooklynn doesn’t want to wait and find out.

Turning away from the volcano, Brooklynn looks out over the rest of the clearing. The dinosaurs that have passed them are charging directly towards the edge of the cliff, and- to Brooklynn’s surprise- running right off the edge. She can’t hear any splashing over the stampede, but she has to assume there’s nothing but water below, and that the dinosaurs aren’t so desperate as to throw themselves onto a rocky shore.

“Hey!” she shouts, to get everyone’s attention before she points at the cliff. “They’re going into the water! That’s our way out.”

Claire glances at the passing dinosaurs with clear panic in her eyes. “We’ll be trampled!”

“Not if we’re riding them,” Ben speaks up, still watching the approaching fog. “Sinos at six o’clock!”

A small herd of Sinoceratopses has just broken the treeline, charging straight down the middle of the clearing. They aren’t very fast, but they’re powerful, and Brooklynn’s timeline for ‘how long we can stay hiding behind this tree’ has suddenly accelerated.

Owen follows Ben’s gaze, eyes widening. “Are those ones tame, too?!”

“No, but it won’t matter,” Brooklynn says decisively. “They’re too busy running for their lives to care. Just grab one and hold on tight. A List, help Claire. Franklin, you’re with us. Sammy, go with Owen.”

There’s some awkward shuffling as everyone shifts into position. Ben crouches by the edge of the tree, so he can watch the approaching dinosaurs and give the signal to go. Brooklynn is right behind him, keeping a steadying hand on Franklin’s shoulder.

Kenji crouches next to Yaz. “You good?”

With the brace on, Yaz can manage a decent running speed- not like she used to, of course- but it’s painful and tiring. And there’s always the risk of her ankle completely giving out again, so she tries to avoid it unless absolutely necessary.

Times like these fall under ‘absolutely necessary.’ Besides, Kenji would have a hard time climbing onto a Sinoceratops with Yaz on his back.

“Yeah,” Yaz says, her voice tight with nerves. “It’ll be a short distance.”

“Everyone ready?” Ben calls. “Three, two, one- go!”

They burst out from behind the tree, spitting off into their respective groups as they dart through the Sinoceratops herd.

Kenji lets Yaz lead the way so she can set the pace, while he keeps a hand on Claire’s arm to guide her. Yaz hones in on the closest Sinoceratops quickly, making a direct beeline to the dinosaur’s side. Before it can react to their presence, Yaz grabs onto its frill, using it to pull herself up onto its back.

Kenji steers Claire away from the sino as it shakes its head, bellowing fear and shock at the unexpected weight. But Yaz holds fast and, as predicted, the dinosaur doesn’t stop running.

“Now!”

Kenji nudges Claire to the dinosaur’s side, where Yaz is already extending an arm down to help. Grabbing her hand and using the other to grab the frill, Claire manages to climb up. Once she’s settled, Yaz scooches them both back along the dinosaur’s spine, clearing a space for Kenji. Keeping pace alongside the sino, Kenji grabs the frill and swings his leg up over its neck.

The Sinoceratops bemoans their presence, but it’s not willing to stop running to shake them off. Glancing to the side, Kenji can see the others have made it, too; just in time for the dinosaurs to crash through the tree they’d been using as shelter only moments ago, trampling it into splinters.

Franklin sits sandwiched between Ben and Brooklynn, but Sammy and Owen have ended up on separate Sinoceratopses. Kenji’s not surprised that Sammy managed on her own, cowgirl extraordinaire that she is, but it’s a relief to see Owen was able to handle it. The herd had pegged him as an ex-military kind of guy, better suited to this kind of action than most, and it’s nice to be proven right.

Ben’s dinosaur has shifted to the front of the herd. Brooklynn twists around in her seat, lifting her voice to address everyone. “Once they go over the edge, jump off the side! Put as much distance between you and them as possible!”

Large, herbivorous dinosaurs like the Sinoceratopses weren’t exactly made for swimming, so it’ll probably involve a lot of thrashing and kicking of those thick, powerful legs. A direct kick in the gut from a horse is enough to kill a human, so a dinosaur would probably eviscerate them.

Brooklynn didn’t survive on Isla Nublar for three years just to get eviscerated by a doggy-paddling Sinoceratops.

The fog is gaining on them, engulfing a stampeding Brachiosaurus as it starts rolling down the clearing. Franklin is screaming, his voice shrill in Brooklynn’s ears. Ben, sitting up front, is keeping his gaze forward in preparation, allowing Brooklynn a chance to take in the determination on her herds’ faces, the gritted teeth and narrow eyes as they prepare to dive into the ocean amidst a dinosaur stampede to escape a volcanic eruption.

Just another day on Isla Nublar.

“Here we go!” Ben calls out in warning.

‘Here we come, Darius,’ Brooklynn thinks.

And then they’re weightless, plummeting off the cliff as the ocean rushes up to meet them.

~*~

#jurassic world camp cretaceous #jurassic world fallen kingdom #jwcc #camp cretaceous #my writing

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onwriting-hrarby · 2 years

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Rotten Judgement - Eren and Ymir

The café gleams with bulbs and the laughter of the building. As far as Eren knows, Connie has had both a great and a painful time coming up with non-alcoholic cocktails for the party, and he is now selling the idea, hollering to everyone to "not hesitate" in tasting the "marvellous delices".

In truth, this non-alcoholic Sex in the Beach tastes quite heavenly, Eren thinks—but there's no way he's going to help Connie in his quest, if only to tease him.

Reiner, on the other side, is much calmer about the news—although not less excited. He went with Ymir in high school, anyway, and has seen her come out—and how painful that was. So, the fact that Ymir is now having a baby, he tells Eren, is exhilarating.

"That doesn't mean that we have to go over the top", Reiner huffs, pulling some strange red syrup from Connie's hands.

"But it's Historia!" Connie exclaims, his mouth in a pout. "Plus, I might be making these in regular days, too. Eren," he looks at his roommate, "doesn't it taste amazing?"

"You could've fooled me with the alcohol."

"See?" Connie shows Reiner a proud smirk.

While Reiner and Connie start discussing the cost-effectiveness of their new idea, Eren searches the café for the moms. He's worried, of course—it's not like Historia and Ymir know anything about maternity, and although they had decided that they wanted to be moms pretty swiftly, the problem in Eren's view still remains: Ymir doesn't have a stable, well-paid job, and Historia's parents don't seem to want to know anything about it.

He gets a view of Historia in one of the corners of the café. She's speaking with Levi while holding Dalia in her arms as if she was already training to be a mother. Dalia plays with Historia's hair and looks at her father with a toothy grin—Levi can't help but caress the cheek of his daughter with his index, and after three years, Eren is still not used to see this sweet side of his previous gym-teacher. His mind goes down memory lane, as it always does when thinking about his high school years—and down and down until there's black hair and soft eyes and the smile someone always wore—but no, he shouldn't remember her, he shouldn't—

"You look like you're the one being the father." He's waken up by Ymir's voice, feels a chill run through his body.

With his vision still half-blurry, Eren takes in Ymir's appearance, and she is glowing. Ymir is happy, the way Eren has always wanted her to be—so that it shows on her hazelnut eyes, the pretty smile. She even seems to have more freckles on her nose. Ymir has always been attractive, and lately she has chopped her hair short, which gives her a look of someone more mature, and ready.

Eren wonders if she saw it coming, that Historia would get pregnant with their first IVF—if Ymir had some intuition about it.

"You look like you need real alcohol", Ymir grins, and puts an arm around Eren's shoulder.

He grunts. "Sometimes. But it's nice that Connie is thinking about Historia at times like this."

Ymir purses her lips. "Oh, yeah, sure. But I do need alcohol. Like, tons. Need to get hammered, Jaeger." Then, her eyes lower and they look wet. "This is—big news, after all."

When Eren senses her arm squeezing him against her body, he realizes what Ymir wants, and how Ymir feels. So, he grabs her by the forearm—she's still wearing some damn motorcycle jacket, even if they are already at the end of May, and Eren winces at the touch of leather—and pulls her to their favorite corner of the café: the armchair next to the window panel. Outside, night has already fallen and the pedestrians run to their homes.

Eren sits and plops Ymir on his legs. He knows she doesn't like it when people are touchy with her, so he rests his arms on his side and allows Ymir to put her back on his chest, her legs open and falling to the floor, and her face next to his side, but hidden from him.

Ymir needs intimacy—but Eren's known her long enough to know that she doesn't like to look like she needs help.

Their chests heave with their breath. It is rhythmic, calm, Ymir looking at the ceiling and Eren looking outside. If it was Historia, Eren would ask her, are you afraid?, are you sure what you're doing?, and would wait for an answer, because Historia always speaks her doubts. But in Ymir, her doubts run deep and silent; and it's the only thing Eren is not sure of their relationship—that, as far as Ymir and Historia seem happy, he senses that Ymir hides her true feelings in favor of her girlfriend's.

But, sometimes, Ymir speaks. When she does, it's like now—low, grumbling.

"Do you think it's alright?"

Eren doesn't know what she's referring to. From the reflection in the window, he can see that Ymir's barely moved. Outside, a granny plays with her dog.

"It is right, as long as you want it."

"I do want it", Ymir says. "I always wanted to be a mom."

"Then?"

She sighs. The weight of her doubt is felt even in Eren's legs. He turns his head back at her ear, watches the way Ymir's nose slope deflates.

"We're lesbians, Eren. I worry about how my baby will say that in class. I wonder that they'll make fun of him."

"Him?", he smiles.

Ymir seems to draw a smile. "Of course, it will be a boy." Then silence, again, as she speaks: "And I worry about what it will mean to us. We will have to move—we can't have Sasha dealing with a baby's crying when she needs to sleep. But Erwin's been good to us with the rent after Hitch moved, so we need to find a roommate, we cannot let Sasha—"

"Ymir, stop", Eren puts a hand on her thigh and pats. "Why are you worrying about Sasha right now?"

"Because I wo—"

"Because you're looking at an excuse to not face your fears", Eren speaks, and Ymir pauses, freezes, and then looks at him. Her eyes are gleaming and wet, and Eren thinks he has never seen her that distressed in years.

"I know, maybe—but I just. I don't know. I was taught to keep quiet, you know?", Ymir utters in a whisper. "Not to let anyone know. I mean, look at Marco", she points her finger at the café counter, where Marco and Jean are listening to another of Connie's rant. "I mean, look at what has happened. He's—he's sick. What if I get sick, too? And leave my baby alone? And Historia? What if—"

"You are not getting sick, Ymir", Eren watches Marco laugh to Jean, and Jean smiling tenderly at him, and wonders how much longer does Marco have. "You're not getting sick because you are here, with Historia, and Historia is fine. And you are not leaving your baby behind, because you have never left any of your friends behind. Look, even Reiner, Annie and Marco came to live in the same apartment you recommended", he jokes. "You have this pull to people, and we trust in you."

Ymir bites her lip, and her leg seems to recoil just slightly so that they touch Eren's. He risks it—he puts the arms around her waist, and the hands rest at her stomach, and for a moment he fears Ymir is going to punch him.

She doesn't—instead, she puts her hands on him, too, and squeezes.

"And you are going to be a great mom", Eren reassures her. "Maybe people will talk. Maybe the baby will face the consequences, who knows? But I know that your baby will be happy of having you as their moms. He or she won't be afraid, or reluctant, or ever regret it—because you're going to be amazing." She nods, still unsure. "And also, the baby is going to have a bunch of uncles and aunts to kick the bad guys' asses."

She laughs, snorting. "I would be the first to kick ass for him."

"Ah, but you're the one who will need to face the director after—"

"Well, if they don't want me to face them, then they shouldn't have let my child be bullied by bigots."

They both laugh, and when it dies down, Eren looks outside to see some children playing in the ground.

"You will always have us, Ymir", Eren says, and rests his head on her shoulder. "Always, always. We're like family."

"Yeah", she mutters. "You're practically our son, too."

He grins. "See? You've had practice with me already."

"Our child won't be as difficult as you."

"Ouch", he feigns hurt, and Ymir widens her smile just a bit. Then, she wiggles on top of Eren. "Alright, I'm fine now. Enough touchy-touchy feelings—let me go, I need a fucking cocktail."

#yumihisu #ymir #historia reiss #eren jaeger #ymir and eren were robbed of a good friendship #anon request #drabble #rotten judgement fanfiction

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lihikainanea · 2 years

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An open call for advice from dog mammas

hey frenns!

As some of you know, I am the proud mama to a lil perfect Aussie bb who will be 2 in January. We’ve had some ups and downs but he’s just so fucking perfect.

Long story short he started limping a bit this past January, and his original vet was like “oh it’s hip dysplasia for sure” and was like, ready to wheel him in for a $30,000 surgery for titanium hips when he wasn’t even a year old. Needless to say, we switched vets pretty fast.

I’ve been seeing a new vet who is pretty fantastic and takes a very conservative approach to treatment. We have weekly “desensitization” visits where he just goes in and gets a shit ton of treats, gets pet by everyone, gets told he’s a very good boy--just to help him not be so nervous at the vet. His new doc is really fantastic and I love her.

His limp was intermittent--it would go away for a few months, and then show up again. Always on his right hind leg. In June, it became more present--after a very active day full of playing (he goes to a daycare twice a week), I notice that he’d lie down to nap and when he got up, he’d limp. We tried one week on anti-inflammatories, which did wonders--but came back when we stopped the meds. So we did another week--and the same thing happened.

His vet and I finally decided it would be a good idea to do some XRays to see what’s really going on, and it took a lot of convincing on my part because he had to be sedated and I hate doing that.

The X Rays showed, what the vet thinks, is a teeny tiny MCL tear. She referred me to an orthopedist to see my options.

Now, here’s the issue. The surgery to repair a small torn/completely ruptured MCL is major. They saw into bone. They use steel. The rehab is 3-6 months--and that’s like, no walking. NO WALKING. I live on the second floor, and my dude is an Aussie. He’s active, and I travel a shit ton. This is a major life decision.

But like, the first step is with the orthopedist, which we have an appointment September 21. And already, when I emailed my pupper’s file over, the doc got back to me and said “okay well don’t feed him the day of the appointment because I’m going to re-do the x ray, it’s not up to my standards.”

Um...No? FUCK NO?

I don’t want to do that--not only because it’s a fuck ton of money, but because I fail to see the point. The X Rays are two weeks old. I’m not re-doing them just to fit your standard--work with what you’ve got. The x rays are perfectly fine, and there’s 4 views. My dude, I ain’t redoing that shit.

But that, right there, makes me feel like an irresponsible pet parent. I want the best for my little guy.

But then also like...look, I’m not convinced on the surgery front. My bubba doesn’t seem to be in pain, and he only limps SOMETIMES--other times, he’s perfectly fine. And like, right now--okay, he’s at risk of arthritis if I don’t fix it, he limps and has some soreness when he’s too active.

And if I get the surgery? The side effect are....he’s at risk of arthritis when he’s older (because it’s SURGERY and they saw into BONE), and he’ll still limp and get sore if he’s too active because it’ll be the scarred tissue form surgery.

I don’t know. I fail to see the fucking point, but in saying that, I also feel like a TERRIBLE and irresponsible pet parent for potentially letting my doggo live with pain?

HALP.

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bigskydreaming · 8 months

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Spoilery thoughts on the Wheel of Time Season 2 premiere:

The casting remains the show's biggest strength. Nynaeve is still pitch perfect and my absolute fave. She is everything Book Nynaeve always had the potential to be if gently (forcibly) removed from Robert Jordan and his complete inability to write female characters. That scene where she drank the water just to get out of that lesson without technically losing ground......lmao this woman absolutely will cut off her nose to spite her face and say you're damn right I meant to do that, who needs a nose anyway?

Ishmael is also perfectly cast....I'm not familiar with his actor but he conveys the character's emblematic charismatic menace PERFECTLY. His scene gave me chills. Rosamund Pike continues to be great as Moiraine, what more is there to say about Lan other than Best Warder Is Best, I would kill people for Perrin as long as they were completely hypothetical people who don't count stop looking at me like that its a figure of speech you KNOW what I MEAN gosh, and Egwene's character isn't even close to getting to the real meat of her character arc but her actress has already displayed more than enough range to convince me she's going to nail it. Liandrin is perfectly awful, A+ depiction, and of the new characters, Verin is everything I hoped that character would be. Too early to say if I'm sold on this Sheriam though. Same with Elyas though he seems promising, and we only got a glimpse of Lanfear in the 'this season on Wheel of Time' preview, but what little we saw has me excited. (Lanfear is my ultimate fave baddy, I have such high hopes for her character though, you don't even know).

In terms of characters who don't have rave reviews from me, its mostly just a lack of content so far, leaving me undecided as of yet. I still don't know why they recast Mat before last season even ended up airing, and I liked the original actor for Mat quite a lot, but I THINK I'll be just as happy with this one. He didn't have much to do this episode so its hard to gauge, but he seems likable enough, and its not like Mat's currently in a position to be his usual devil-may-care self at this point in the story.

Honestly, Rand remains the weakest link in the show so far, to the point where even though he's nominally the most central character, the fact that he was barely in this episode didn't bother me even a little bit. I think it was a good choice, pacing wise - I'm just not sure what it suggests about the production's view of the character/actor that they were confident they could sideline THE 'main' character of the series for almost the entire first episode of a ten episode season and nobody would mind. And the fact that I didn't really miss him this episode has a lot to do with him easily being the least compelling of the cast in the first season.

That said.....over the course of the books, Rand's character undergoes the most dramatic evolution out of all the major characters, and we're still at a very early part of the narrative where he's just....at most mere hints of the character he ultimately becomes. His character hasn't yet been given a ton to do, relatively speaking.....like in terms of screentime, he's certainly been front and center, but as of right now he's SUPPOSED to be hesitant, mild-mannered, unsure of himself and all that....which is exactly what his actor is delivering. Its just.....not as interesting as what other characters are already undergoing, and especially when you have his book character arc to compare it to, knowing what kinds of things are coming for his character makes what we've seen so far feel a bit like treading water.

Which brings me to my next point, which is that I am pretty impressed with the show's pacing so far. In hindsight, the books start out pretty slow compared to how the story flows once it fully gets going, probably around the fifth book or so, IMO.....and those first books were still just as long as the later ones. So I do think the show's done a good job of condensing an enormously long narrative into something that can viably be told in ten seasons or so, & in such a way as to 'get to the good stuff plotwise' without actually cutting out too many of the early events necessary to build a foundation for the more complicated later storylines.

I do not envy the writers trying to figure out what to keep, what to streamline, what to alter and what to cut out entirely, so it is pretty impressive that as of this episode we very much FEEL like we're in familiar territory, like I recognize whereabouts in the narrative we're supposed to be, but most of the storylines' specific events have been so heavily altered as to make it feel unpredictable and I'm not sure what entirely to expect, in terms of how the show will get from where it is to certain major beats that I'm expecting to happen. Rand's storyline in particular has been pretty dramatically deviated from how the events after the Eye of the World stuff played out in the books....but he's still positioned to be right where he needs to be for all the Lanfear stuff. On the flip side of things, Mat's storyline technically doesn't have him too far removed in the show from where he was in the books at this point, but they've changed just enough that it FEELS completely different and has a much more ominous tone to it than the way that part of his storyline in the books felt like just kinda.....him sitting around until the Seanchan were in place and his storyline could really get going.

And speaking of Mat's storyline, ugh Liandrian is just the worst. I mean. She's supposed to be. So....good job, I guess.

Elayne and Aviendha should be showing up soon, and definitely impatient for that. Aviendha's a fave. I don't dislike Elayne by any means, but Elayne showing up soon also means that Elaida, Galad and Gawyn are all about to show up and I literally hate all three of them. Gawyn hasn't even appeared onscreen yet and I'm already ready for him to shut the fuck up. LMAO. He.....irritates me. Like Galad's full of himself and self-righteous as fuck but at least he KNOWS that and is like yeah, I get why other characters don't like me. Book Gawyn spends several volumes absolutely convinced he's in the right about certain key things he absolutely is NOT in the right about, and he never is actually made to own that or face it, once its made undeniably clear the narrative just kinda....moves on from anyone ever being in a position to point out hey dude, you just spent five books being an absolute dick about this thing that never even actually happened, maybe you should reflect on that. And like. Change. As a person.

Book Gawyn: Nah. Even though I wasn't right I didn't KNOW I wasn't right so I was basically right to do all the stuff that I now know was completely wrong.

Me: Ugh, shut the fuck up Gawyn.

Ohhhh just realized, Faile should be showing up soon too. I love Faile, so that is also something to look forward to. I'm STILL pissed about their totally unnecessary decision to introduce a whole extra helping of backstory trauma upon Perrin when like....nobody fucking asked, and Im very curious who's idea that was exactly and what their precise reasoning for it was, like what the fuck did they think it added to Perrin's arc that he needed, how does it benefit his storyline at all, you didn't need to fucking do that lmfaaaaao, but oh well. Course, its inevitable that its going to alter the shape of his storyline with Faile, particularly their earliest interactions, and I guess I'll wait and see if that's for the better or not, I just....don't see the point of those specific changes. Whatever. I'll die mad about it I guess. Its fine.

Other than all of the above, my biggest remaining thoughts are I want them to hurry up and clarify just which of the Forsaken made the cut and will be appearing in the show and which five got left on the editing floor. I hope they don't drag it out, they better at LEAST get named this season so we know who we're working with and don't have to wait a whole additional year to like, find out whether Sammael will be in the show or if he got scrapped for someone like Belial for some random reason.....mostly I just want to know if Demandred the Dull is going to be taking up one of the slots simply because the books like to pretend he's important even though he literally only appeared in one book and a chapter and there's nothing he does that can't be done just as well by far more developed characters like Aginor. Who unfortunately probably WON'T make the cut. Even though he's fantastically terrible. As a person. Not a character. He's the worst. But in that 'I can't wait to see him get murdered' kinda way. You get it.

Also I hope Asmodean's passive aggressive ass is in this season because the only thing better than Lanfear is Lanfear vs Asmodean: The Passive Aggressive Olympics.

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soysaucevictim · 10 months

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“it feels like my brain (was floating in a fishtank)”

(See warnings/summary on Ao3.)

[ Prologue/Start ] [ Previous ]

Chapter 3: Molecular Superstructure

Remus getting approached by Cass had started to become a regular thing.

One of those days alone at the beach, he was getting particularly restless from Hunger.

He asked Roman to drop him off this time. Remus wished he could do another heist with him. Roman really had a knack for making things run like a well-oiled machine, alongside him. Unfortunately, Roman was too busy making sure Vee wouldn’t rip their mother’s head off.

Remus was pretty sure that wasn’t the only reason for it – but his thoughts were too muddy to pursue. He had been pacing back and forth along the coastline, letting the waves wash over his feet. On one of his turns, Cass had basically appeared out of nowhere and was waving back at him. Cass called out, “Hello there!”

Remus was not feeling particularly social and didn’t respond immediately.

Cass didn’t seem to care about that, but noticed him fidgeting more than usual, “What’s wrong?”

“You seem to know a lot about this kinda shit, what do you think?”

Cass smiled, “So, what is that your soul craves right now?”

“Destapando el tamal.”

“Hm? No estoy familiarizado con ese dicho.”

Remus shrugged, “Eh, es más una cosa costarricense.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Wreaking havoc, you know the deal.”

“Well then, how about we go spice up some rich fogies’ lives? I know a place down in Newport...”

Remus blinked at them, smiling back in that usually terrifying way of his, “That’s waaay better than what I was thinking about doing. Wait. Which part of Newport?”

“I don’t want to spoil the fun, now do I?”

Remus had the barely perceptible thought to ask more questions, but his Hunger won out, “Lead the way!”

“Great! I can drive us there!”

Cass had a boring cream-colored sedan. In it were some scattered religious ephemera, a bible in the backseat and some rosary dangling from the rear view. Before the two disembarked, Cass folded away their cassock and collar, into the trunk. They then covered the clerical shirt underneath with a sleek trench coat and headed back to the driver seat. Before Remus could say anything, they chuckled, “Where we’re going, I need more… appropriate attire.”

It wasn’t a very long car ride, before they crossed city limits. Remus wondered if Cass was taking them to a bank or one of the many investment firms there. Instead, they drove toward one of the many yacht clubs that dotted the bay.

Before they left for the venue, Cass gestured at the glove box, “It might be a good idea to leave your breakables here, things might get a little rowdy.”

Cass stepped out and Remus shrugged, putting his phone away. The boathouse had tons of balloons, signage, and liquor in full view. The sound system was loud enough to rattle nearby cars. It was all for someone’s massive bachelor party. The names Kenny and Diane were plastered everywhere.

“If anyone asks, lie about your age and tell them you’re my plus one who ran a little late. I got you.”

Remus was a little daunted, surprised at himself for having ethical concerns about this, “How did you-? W-wait, doesn’t this go against some kind of... code for you?”

Cass seemed to play into Remus’s assumptions, with a suddenly serious tone:

“… some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains.”

“Ah, NOW you start dropping-”

Cass went back to that weird amiability thing again, “What I am saying here is… eat the rich.”

Never mind thinking about Janus, Remus gasped, “Sold.”

As they met the greeter at the entrance, Cass did the talking. Remus was starting to space out, until Cass pulled out a bag of pills from that coat. They were ushered in without any more questions.

Remus whispered to Cass, “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“What do you think it was?”

Remus quickly saw so many opportunities already and lingered in the pool area, first. He spotted someone who’d fallen asleep in one of the several chaise lounges out there. There was an empty bottle of beer to the side of him, one of those luxury cell phones resting on his chest, and looking pretty damn sunburned too.

Cass was mingling with the others, handing out an impressive variety of narcotics and smiling back at Remus a few times. One of the buzzed patrons pulled Cass toward the beer kegs excitedly.

Remus gave the lounge a shove toward the pool, with one of his tentacles. The man was out like a light, not registering it at all.

He took another look toward the tables, Cass had rifled through their coat and put something in the keg. The patron only looked like he approved of it and pointed at the others, too. Remus didn’t care to wonder exactly what it was, focusing again on Fancy Phone Guy.

Another shove. No one noticed it, not even when Remus threw his filthy tank top onto their face.

A third, and the foot of the lounge was teetering over the deep end. That got the target blearily stirring.

Remus cannon-balled within splashing distance of the hapless guest, basically screeching the entire way into the drink. In their confusion, they managed to topple the entire lounge into the pool. With a yelp, the furniture took the guest down with it and catapulted the phone halfway across the pool.

He yanked the lounge down into the water, for good measure.

Remus stuck around at the bottom of the pool staring at the guy flailing about. Remus cracked up, noticed that the device protected a small rectangle of skin from sunburn. The fear that wafted from the guy was thrilling.

That was until he started to look unable to stay above water and the lifeguard was nowhere to be seen. Remus savored the emotions a bit before hoisting up the guy over the pool’s wall. If he learned nothing else from Steve, actually having someone die was… unsatisfying.

He retrieved the phone and sat next to the guy after he recovered from the experience and was way more alert. “Hey, is this yours?”

“Y- WAIT. WERE YOU THE ASSHOLE THAT-!?”

Remus played ignorant as he swallowed down the whole device right in front of him. It was a funny feeling, whenever he brought his Horror out for stunts like that. It wasn’t like eating food with a real and lingering sense of fullness. A blip of it and then it disappears without a trace, transmuted into the stuff of dreams.

The guest was stunned and Remus loved it.

Remus cackled and waltzed around the place, ruining peoples’ days. A lot of designer accessories and electronics met their untimely ends. They couldn’t see his Horror acting on reality, and wouldn’t be able to pin most of it on him, anyways. He often took advantage of lapses in attention and judgment as more and more attendees got too inebriated to afford it. Many just thought of him as some kind of demented pool boy.

Some of them started to say some strange things that Remus decided to pin on the drugs. Sounded like a bad trip, with how delirious a few of the attendees seemed.

The spree and reverie was interrupted when he heard a beckoning whistle from Cass.

Remus followed, feeling far more focused than how he arrived, “What’s up?”

“You’ve had your appetizers, how about the main course?”

Dusk was approaching and the wind was picking up. Staff started setting up tiki torches throughout the venue. Cass eyed one of them, and elaborated, “Her Majesty, Anchor Management needs a little mood lighting, yes?”

Remus nodded along and walked up to one of them, “You need a hand?”

The staff member was clearly somewhere else, “Knock yourself out.”

As they grabbed the things, Remus asked Cass, “Is ANYONE else here sober?”

“Nope!”

A good number of the guests took the party onto the aforementioned yacht. Remus had a sense it was too many people for a craft its size. He wasn’t entirely sure if he saw any crew members as he was guided on to the aft deck. There were a few people mingling on the swim platform back there too, and it would be SO easy to dunk them right then and there.

Him and Cass found some railings to strap the torches onto and dispersed into the crowd. All Remus saw in this rig was what a lovely shipwreck this could be. Cass was on the same page, “Oh, your joy brings a smile to my face!”

It was still moored to the dock and swayed gently in place. He stared at the fenders protecting the boat and, one by one, dropped them without anyone noticing or caring. As they floated away to the tides, he also went along undoing the lines keeping the boat there.

Remus chilled out aft-side again as the tide rose, waiting for his moment. At least one person was knocked into the bay and got laughed at mercilessly. Someone else had the presence of mind to don a life jacket and scoop him up before disappearing into the darkening waters. Cass had joined in laughing at that guy, too. Remus wondered if Cass was sampling their own product, but they blended in so seamlessly here.

The boat’s sway was getting more pronounced, the music and crowd too loud to notice anything was amiss. Remus was halfway listening to it all:

Uh oh, overflow, population, common group But it'll do, save yourself, serve yourself World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed Tell me with the Rapture and the reverent in the right, right

Remus felt a new low vibration run through the vessel and looked out port-side. The boat’s hull was getting a little too familiar with the dock, shamefully grinding away its pristine coat of wax and paint. Remus’s smile showed way too many teeth as the steel underneath became more and more visible.

He returned to the swim platform and “conveniently” knocked down a few of the torches along his way there. He barely overplayed his shock when the fuel spilled out into a fiery puddle on deck. The hazard was a bit larger than he expected, if he was being honest. He yelled out, “FIRE!”

There was certainly a mixed response. A couple more guys jumped off deck. A couple more were simply entranced by the fire. At least one person was frantically trying to figure out where the extinguisher was, clearly never having been through drills. One more ran around like a headless chicken, bumping a gawker off deck. One of the guys got weirdly existential, “Dude, what if there is no meaning in fire but suffering?”

One of them had enough cylinders firing to get suspicious of him running from the fire toward them, “Hhhey, the fuck are you going, boy!?”

Remus shouted as he ran past, “Away from fiery death. OF COURSE!”

He looked back before joining a few more of the lot in the drink, noticing Cass wearing a smile matching his own. Once overboard, he dove and swam below port and looked at the glistening scratch on the yacht. He did it again, feeling the ocean’s presence around him as he concentrated down its corrosive capability to eat through the breach and fast.

Roman still had the better sight than him, especially at distance and in good lighting. But Remus absolutely adored how he could easily see in the distorted, low light conditions of the water.

The hull cracked and started to groan and Remus heard and saw it all. He was fluttering back and forth around the wound as it widened. He clapped like a seal down there and almost missed that he was passing the ship’s portholes. He snapped in on the face of a terrified crew member staring back at him.

Remus noticed his own eyes held a faint green glow, in the reflection. He gave them a soundless, but very much open-mouthed, “Hi!”

The crew member shook his head and blinked back. The eye contact broke to dart at the water rising around them. Moments after, they ran off into the cabin, presumably screaming their heads off.

The surge of euphoria was overwhelming, as everyone’s fear of confusion hit fever pitch above. He never really tried any of the stuff Cass was doling out, but this had to be even better than any of that. It was a dangerous amount of satiety, so he had to swim back to the boathouse before his Horror retreated too far out of reach.

He reunited with Cass at the boathouse and gleefully watched the ship listing more and more topside. Remus poured the last energy he could access into speeding things up a little, once everyone got out. It was a feast that kept on giving, as everyone scrambled to dry ground and watched it sink right there in front of them all.

The guest of honor to this travesty arrived far too late. Kenny slammed a drink before chasing down every staff member he could about what happened here. He demanded an explanation they didn’t have. Kenny wasn’t in uniform, but he was waving around a badge at everyone, as if that’d help.

In the flurry, Kenny’s glare singled out Remus. Cass took the cue to whisper to him, “I think it’s time we took our leave.”

Remus had forgotten just how much time flew past, until he was back in Cass’s car and looking at his phone. Cass was jubilant once they reconvened, “Whew! I haven’t had that much fun since-!”

Remus didn’t register that, more focused on the worried messages from Roman he missed. They all basically said the same thing, “Hey, Taz! ‘Couldn’t find you at the beach? Where did you go? Stop ignoring me!”

He wasn’t really sure how to answer.

Cass glanced over, “Is something the matter, my naufragous friend?”

“… family. I should probably get back to them.”

“Sure thing! Care to tell me a little more about them?”

“That… was my brother. He’s like me-us? But-”

Cass’s eyes seemed to light up a moment at that. Remus just continued, “But my parents aren’t-”

“Yes?”

Remus thought about his mom’s run-in and hesitated, “They’re just- human.”

“Do they know about-?”, Cass gestured at themself.

He wondered if he should continue lying to Cass, it didn’t come easy to him. “No. No they don’t.”

“That’s- that’s good. I’m afraid your family would not approve of me, anyways.”

Remus briefly wondered about the rest of the brood’s feelings, too. He wasn’t ready to test those waters. There was an extended pause before Cass asked, “So, where would you like to be dropped off?”

Remus just wanted to reassure them he was fine, and Janus’s place was far far closer. “Uh. You can take me to any one of the Crystal Cove parks. I’ll let my brother know where to pick me up from there. If that’s okay?”

He wanted to respect Janus’s rules, as much as such things would normally make him balk.

“Hmm, I didn’t take you for the ritzy sort?”

Remus snorted, “I’m really, really not.”

Cass gave him a studying look before shrugging, “Okay, then.”

The ride “home-bound” was way quieter than the way to the yacht party.

Ellis wasn’t lying when he said the place was 24/7, the lights were on and it was after midnight. Vic wasn’t sure if the other mage was going to be there, but if not, he thought it would be interesting to check that tattoo parlor out.

He read the neon signage as he approached, “Mystical Serpent Inks, huh?”

Vic swore the place was familiar, for some reason. He was pretty sure that this was the place his sons went to get their ears pierced, for their eighteenth birthday. Roman liked to find some jewelry that was really his taste, but was indecisive about keeping it open. Remus had taken the route of earlobe stretching, come to think of it, he was able to do that faster than most without injury.

The door chime clanged and Vic looked at the gallery of flashes and portfolio pieces covering every inch of the walls. Most of it was black and gray, animals both real and “mythical”, and lots of geometric shapes. The mastery was gorgeous and left him in awe.

He was startled out of his reverie by the receptionist’s sedate greeting, “You’re a new face, want to schedule a consult or-?”

They wore a name tag that read, “Oscar R.”.

“Is Ellis busy, right now?”

Oscar got up and yelled into the next room, “HEY. CROFT, YOU LISTENING? You gotta visitor!”

Vic heard a groan and a muffled response, “… I’d appreciate keeping my hearing, thank you very much.”

The receptionist grumbled, “I wonder about that, sometimes.”

Ellis made his way into the waiting area, irritated, “Now, what is it?”

Vic waved, “Uh, did I catch you at a bad time?”

Ellis evened out, “No, you’re not interrupting anything. Business tends to be slow, at this hour. Care to follow me to the break room?”

“Sure?”

Vic followed Ellis through the procedure area, appreciative of the place being so well-kept. When they got to the break room, another employee was leaning against a wall, watching them. They appeared closer to Vic’s age, in a black leather jacket and had quite the magnetic appeal. They tipped down their sunglasses at Vic and then Ellis, “Babes, who’s he?”

Vic was about to properly introduce himself, “I’m V-”

Ellis shook his head and spoke, “A new addition to the brood, the twins’ father. Another mage who- is quite new. I promised to teach him some things.”

This other coworker snorted and got flirty, “Oh, I wonder what your scorecard is gonna look like with Teach, here.”

Vic sensed there was something decidedly missing in this coworker, a presence he was used to in most of the company he kept. But he couldn’t quite place it. Vic simply gave a sly smile back, “You aren’t that bad looking, yourself. Alas, I’d hate to disappoint you, I’m spoken for.”

Ellis groaned, “Lachance, please .”

Lachance rolled their eyes, “Whatever, this bitch gotta top up on her latte.”

Lachance gave Vic a flirty smirk, one where Vic swore he saw an actual fang peeking through. The coworker turned around to dramatically leave, before he could make sure. That left the two mages alone in the break room.

Vic spoke first, “Why’d you stop me from-?”

“Names have immense power, especially in supernal matters.”

“… like fairies?”

“Don’t even get me started on the Gentry.”

“W-wait, those are real too?”

“Yes. But, there’s more to the Names matter here. Say, imagine being an assassin.”

“Whoa, I’m a lover not a-”

Ellis smacked his own face, “Moving on. You know how they usually have a detailed briefing on their missions?”

Vic nodded.

“True Names give spells a far clearer target. What I’m getting at is this – I highly recommend you conjure a new name, for camouflage.”

“So. Ellis isn’t your real name? What is-?”

Ellis blinked a few seconds, “What did I just say?”

Vic erupted into laughter, a bit more subdued than Remus’s but the resemblance was there, “S-sorry, Mr. Croft.”

“I may furnish that information at a later date, if I come to trust you enough. However, is there anything that’s stirring for you? I understand if you’d like more time to reflect, it’s an important de-”

“Hmm, I like the sound of Val!”

“Oh. Like Saint Valentine or Valerius?”

Vic wore a shit-eating grin, “Yes.”

“You know what? I am not going to attempt to divine what in the Lead Coin you meant there.” Ellis huffed, “I have some other matters to discuss with you, Val.”

“Hopefully something less boring.”

“You could say that. Do you recall what the symbols you saw looked like?”

“Sort of?”

“If you desire, I can incorporate them into a piece for you. It may help in your studies.”

“What if I misremembered anything?”

“Then, I recommend you should seek clarity in meditation. Perhaps on the sensations you felt?”

Vic smirked, “Better than what I was thinking about.”

“I think I will withhold asking about that.”

Vic snorted as they continued discussing a few things before parting ways.

Remus was on Cloud Nine after the yacht party adventure and was looking forward to the coverage on it, with bated breath.

Pacing around Janus’s estate, he couldn’t help but laugh spontaneously at various snippets of the affair replaying in his brain. It was one of those habits a lot of kids pointed out about him, growing up. Never mind that he did notice everyone else seemed to do that every now and then, too. Maybe he just did it more often or something. He never cared to ask or remember.

He didn’t realize he was being followed until he double-backed on his unplanned route around the place. Patton stood there with a huge smile, Remus hardly ever saw him without one, upon recollection. “What’s up, Pipsqueak?”

“’Heard some laughing, wanted to see why!”

Remus snorted, “Oh. I just had a little fun recently.”

“Oooh, like when Vee has a good day at his job!”

“I don’t think I’ve seen the guy smile, like, once.”

Patton giggled, “Yeah, ever-body says he’s real sour but-”

Remus nodded along, amused by what the kid said next, “They’re right.”

Remus laughed and Patton giggled some more. Before Remus could remark, Patton talked more, “Vee dared me to try that candy with the ‘splodey cartoon face? I wanted to spit it out so bad!”

Remus imagined Patton’s face all scrunched up and uncomfortable, amused. “Warheads?”

“YEAH! Like that! But… Vee’s kinda like those things, I think.”

“So, you toughed it out?”

Patton nodded eagerly, and got a little shouty, “It was really sweet after a while. I really really really like them now!”

It was then that Remus realized they were standing just outside of that Ellis guy’s study. Mostly because the door next to them opened up to a very grumpy looking nerd. “What in- Pat! Indoor voice. I’m very busy!”

Remus knew that look, Patton tried to appear apologetic but he really wasn’t. That was full-on a shit-eating grin he was wearing, before wiping it off in front of Ellis.

Remus then rolled his eyes at Ellis, having hardly ever seen him around either, “When are you not?”

Ellis’s look of exasperation at Remus was priceless, “Gods, dealing with your father has been a handful enough.”

“What’s that about Daddy Dearest?”

“That man keeps egging on one of my coworkers and asking irrelevant and distracting, personal questions!”

Remus snorted, “Yep. That definitely sounds like him. How’s uh, that mage stuff going?”

Ellis sighed, “To be determined. Do you have anything else to discuss, before I return to my studies?”

After a moment, Remus asked, “How’d you meet Janny?”

“I’m only going to say that it wasn’t long after my Awakening. I don’t have time to get into everything with you right now. Perhaps later?”

Remus was a little disappointed, “Fiiine.”

When Ellis turned back and closed the door, Patton trotted up to Remus to whisper rather loudly, “It’s SO embarrassing.”

“Oh, you got some dirt, kid?”

Patton nodded and started blathering to Remus about all manner of magical mishaps Ellis had. It wasn’t clear which one of them involved Janus, but it was pretty amusing.

The twins were going to Janus’s estate every few days.

Janus did tell them that they were free to take the rooms in the guest wing on the top floor as their own, if they so wished. Remus didn’t mind making himself home in either place, for the most part. He was simply happy to be with his family.

Roman was still attached to his room, his home in Santa Ana. He wasn’t committed to moving his treasure to the estate, his home’s gate to his Lair strengthened in a moment of desperation. When Steve almost-

“Hey, Robro! I want you to catch the local news before you go!”

Roman raised an eyebrow, “Okay, but I need to go Feed soon…”

Remus dragged his brother into a nearby entertainment room. He plunked him onto a chaise lounge more expensive than both the cars their family owned and turned on the TV. The thing was bigger than the ones they saw at Steve’s place.

It wasn’t long before the reporter was on location at the yacht club Remus and Cass upturned. Dani Wexler always had a strange glint in her eyes, doing her job, “I’m here with the Rear Commodore, Gastón-”

For different reasons, the twins chuckled about that.

Dani continued speaking, “-Flores...and district chief of police, Wayne White. Chief, care to tell us what happened the day before yesterday?”

The officer cleared his throat, looking barely composed, “We still need to investigate the cause of Anchor Management’s sinking. Fortunately, there was no one significantly harmed. We have thanks to the harbor team that worked tirelessly yesterday, pulling the craft up for forensics. There were some odd details of the event that makes it unclear yet if this was a fluke or a more intentional act. We don’t have any suspects, currently.”

Dani pointed the mic to the rear commodore, “How about you? What can you tell us about what led to this?”

The man tried hard to stay composed, but he was shaking like a leaf. “Y-yes, well. This happened during a bachelor party for the commodore’s grandson, Kenny, Kenny Morton. He invited a lot of guests and things got a little rowdy. As one might expect.”

The chief was almost scowling at the rear commodore, as he spoke.

Her gaze was piercing, “Do you believe the attendees had something to do with this?”

“I-if that were the case-.”

“Isn’t managing social events such as this part of your job description?”

“Y-yes, but-!”

Remus started grinning about the guy sweating bullets, commenting to Roman, “That guy is SO fired.”

Roman looked on, impressed by the scene, “As terrible as it is to say, you really outdid yourself this time.”

“Yeah, it was even MORE fun than the dealership escapade!”

What followed was a fragmented retelling of the events of the party. Remus filled in some of the blanks but left out mentioning Cass to Roman. Roman had a look of worry, “How did you wind up over there though?”

“Uh… the bus?”

“I don’t think the buses run that late?”

Remus swallowed nervously, “Okay. I hitchhiked.”

Roman’s eyes widened, “¡Qué va! ”

Remus pretended to be more flippant as he spoke, “Yeah, I decided to go see the place and fuck some shit up, that’s all. Todavía estoy viva y pateando, so-”

Roman gave a heavy sigh, “You better be glad I covered for you.”

Remus’s smile subdued, but he was sincere in his response, “Thanks, Ro.”

The story continued playing out and Remus was savoring it all once more, seeing new and emotional accounts of it. The last people in the segment to be interviewed were a surprise couple of guests – the man and woman of honor.

Kenny was all kinds of irate, “They forgot to tell y’all that that boat was SUPPOSED to be my DOWRY. And-and-”

Diane hushed him with a smile, “Shhh, I’ll smooth it over with my people, alright? We still have the big day coming up! This is just a tiny wrinkle, I promise it’s all just going to be perfect, dear.”

There was something off about that smile, but Remus couldn’t place why.

Kenny seemed to pacify, “If you say so, Princess.”

Diane’s whispers were barely caught on the mic, “Not for long.”

Both the twins got a little uncomfortable about the public display of affection threatening to play out on camera. Thankfully, Dani cut in again, “You heard it here, folks. Stay tuned for further updates on the investigation. Now, the weather-”

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#begotten au #spilled musing #sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #(not gonna tag this as u!anyone - but virgil /is/ holding the jerk ball here... pffft)#(meant to schedule this earlier today - but forgot)

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