#no-one will give us any more than that tiny snippet of information which screams that they’re hiding something big

[starbylers]

This made me think about how the “cultural noise” was overwhelmingly surrounding Will’s feelings for Mike not his sexuality alone, but it's interesting how Shawn doesn't frame it that way and neither do the Duffers, and this is something they’ve done consistently. Whenever they’re discussing Will's arc for s5, the pressing situation that it's Mike he's in love with and Mike who's a huge part of Will's sexuality arc is just not addressed. They purposefully gloss over how his romantic feelings for his best friend are obviously a massive if not the biggest conflict in Will's arc. It’s like they're avoiding any acknowledgment of Mike’s role in this storyline—instead using vague terms like ‘emotional arc’ (which largely translates to his feelings for Mike)—because as soon as they even slightly imply that Will’s journey doesn’t exist in a vaccum and actually heavily involves and will impact other characters (aka Mike), the questions will start rolling in, questions they can’t answer. Not without spoiling anyway. So they just…don’t address the elephant in the room and thus most viewers make the assumption, taking the non-confirmation as confirmation, that it’s unrequited (and of course they would, because Mike is straight and loves his girlfriend, right?) and their plot twist is set up perfectly just by the power of people’s heteronormative thinking 😭 kind of genius because even something as tiny as a ‘we’ll see what happens’ would very much point to Byler. Silence about Mike is their best option! Can’t wait for the day that is allowed to change though.

#byler #there was that one interview where they said ‘Mike doesn’t understand and not in a bad way he just misses it he doesn’t get it’ #and that’s the extent I’ve heard them really mention how Mike fits into all this which is basically the same as Finn saying Mike is clueless #no-one will give us any more than that tiny snippet of information which screams that they’re hiding something big

[rosesgonerogue]

Finding You (Again)

Chapter Three

Masterlist

Marinette

Marinette bounced in and out of consciousness, but nothing about consciousness made her want to lengthen her stay. Wherever she was it was dark, and everything around her rattled and shook, the constant drone of an engine too oppressive for Marinette to even form a thought. She was tied up, and her muscles screamed from the unnatural position she was in, but she couldn’t do anything but fall into yet another fit of dreamless sleep. 

She was awake when the engine finally stopped, giving her hazy mind enough room to decide that it was probably safer to pretend she was still asleep. It sounded like there were only two men, and metal screeched on metal when they opened the door to whatever they were holding her in. They spoke in a language Marinette couldn’t even identify at the moment, and then rough, meaty hands yanked her away, slinging her over a shoulder. 

Taking a risk, Marinette barely opened a single eye, taking in where she was. The angle was atrocious, Marinette couldn’t see anything. The ground was concrete, and with a sinking heart she could identify the landing gear of a plane - she knew nothing aside from the fact that she was probably incredibly far from home. 

Reaching up slowly, Marinette gently touched her earrings. They were still there, which meant that even if Tikki weren’t there right then, she would find Marinette one way or another. 

Again laying completely still, she allowed herself to be carried to wherever the destination was. The longer she was carried, the more Marinette’s mind cleared from whatever drug they’d used. 

After a lengthy walk, they were able to enter into a building. She didn’t dare open her eyes again, but based on the sound of the men’s footsteps it was a wooden floor. She was especially jostled as they went down a flight of stairs. 

It took every ounce of Marinette’s self control not to react when  door opened and she was unceremoniously dumped onto the cold concrete floor. 

She fought to keep her breathing even when unfamiliar footsteps approached. “She’s still asleep?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

Marinette focused on breathing normally despite the fact that Talia al Ghul was definitely now in the room with her. Using her breathing to distract herself and keep her body limp, Marientte nearly yelped when an icy hand grasped her lower face. 

The hand tilted her head this way and that, Marinette’s neck crying out at the injustice of being abused in this way. 

“Pathetic, this is who my son has chosen? I would have hoped that I raised him well enough to choose more wisely than a frail little girl.” 

“What is our plan for her, Ma’am?” 

Talia was silent for a tense moment. “It’s time for my son to come reclaim his birthright. If this is what it takes to bring him home, so be it.” 

“But will he know it’s you that took the girl?” 

“If he doesn’t I would be sorely disappointed. After all, I’m being more than generous - a month is more than enough time for him to find her. If he can’t then all that will be left for him to find will be her head.” 

A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine, and she could’ve cried from relief when Talia stepped away. The nearly imperceptible sound of her retreating was an immense relief to Marinette, but when Talia spoke again everything in her tensed. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you my secondary motive - you couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” she said, every syllable somehow deadly. “My son has been working closely with the wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous. With all of the teamwork his father has doubtlessly used to indoctrinate him, he’s likely going to bring her along. Taking the jewel will be child’s play - they’ll bring it to us. From there, getting the Black Cat Miraculous will be almost effortless. He’s a reckless one, especially without his Lady to temper him.” 

Marinette could feel her fingernails digging into her palms - she was fairly sure she drew blood. Even after Talia had completely gone, Marinette laid there, hands clenched and virtually motionless. She laid there for what felt like years until Tikki’s tiny voice said, “It’s safe now, Marinette.” 

Slowly Marinette sat up, every muscle in her body aching. Voice hoarse, she whispered, “Where are we, Tikki?” 

“I don’t know, Marinette. I knew I needed to stay with you and stay hidden, and that meant I couldn’t see anything. We were on that plane for a long time, though.” 

Marinette tried to swallow, but she didn’t have enough saliva for the action to accomplish anything. “What do we do?” 

“I’d love to tell you to transform and break out of here, but-”

“We can’t expose my identity, especially since they want the Miraculous,” Marinette finished. It was an issue Marinette had faced since she’d relocated to Gotham. It wouldn’t have taken Tim to connect the dots between Ladybug, the Parisian superheroine, and MDC, Parisian fashion designer. So, with the help of Kaalki and the Justice League, Ladybug went global. It was well known that she had an especially close working relationship with Batman and company, but she frequently worked with others as well. 

“It’s worse than that, Marinette,” Tikki said gravely. “Do you remember when Damian told you about the Lazarus Pits?” 

Marinette froze. “No, Tikki. Please tell me it isn’t what I think.” 

“They’re old enough that my memory is hazy - being used with Plagg to grant wishes does that - but the Lazarus Pits are the result of a Miraculous wish. The al Ghul family knows what the Miraculous are and what they can do, and they’re dangerous enough on their own.” 

“Did you get any impression that they suspect me?” Marinette asked, almost unwillingly. 

“No, they don’t suspect you’re a wielder, and definitely not the Guardian. But they know that Damian goes on almost every mission Ladybug goes on. Talia hopes that Damian will join then, like you heard, but Ra’as doubts it. Ra’as wants to use Damian to get information out of Ladybug if he doesn’t join the League of Assassins.” 

Snippets of the things Damian had told her about Ra’as al Ghul filtered through her mind, and the seriousness of her situation finally sank in. She barely registered she was shaking until Tikki patted her hand, eyes filled with concern. Marinette smiled the worst smile of her life, and she knew Tikki could see right through it. 

With a voice trembling just as much as her smile, Marinette said, “It’ll be okay, Tikki. Damian will come.”

“Of course Marinette. Nothing would stop Damian.” 

“Nothing,” she repeated, almost in an effort to convince herself.

Taglist: @tbehartoo @kris-pines04 @thesunanditsangel @constancetruggle @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @rosalineandrosemary @novicevoice @momothefemur  @theymakeupfairies @maskedpainter @mystery5-5 @dast218 @tip-tap-tired @zerotosiki @rebecarojas07 @bookgirl14 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @lookatthestars1 @swiftie-miraculer13 @qualitypeacepainter

Note:  Surprise! I'm not dead! And if you're invested in my other stories, don't worry! They're not being abandoned, I'm just in the middle of grad school. They will be updated eventually.

#daminette #damimari #maribat #damian x marinette

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

If he’d remembered the map’s, he’d checked out before coming correctly, the lake was less than a quarter mile beyond the tree line from where he stood in the clearing. There was a small farming village west of the lake, and it was maybe another couple miles next to the dam. Bakugou was certain that the authorities had canvased the town as well as surrounding areas, but if he was lucky, they’d missed something or someone that saw something that day that could aid in his search. Either way, it was another starting point.

After hiking to the nearest village, Bakugou sought out their small police station. The place maybe had two officers on duty per shift, and three shifts rounding out a day. For major cases, detectives were brought in from the next larger city. It was the epitome of small and very common in the more rural areas of Japan. Because of his notoriety, the authorities knew who he was, but luckily had no idea that he wasn’t a part of the task force.

“I’m doing follow ups,” he did his best to sound official and reign in his temper. “Making sure that no one reported seeing the hero called Deku?” The officer shook his head. “So, no strange events from April twenty-seventh?”

“Strange? Not on that date, but the next day, there was an attack on a citizen. They claimed that they were ambushed late in the evening but could not give any description. The man is a known drunkard and we assumed he was intoxicated and hallucinating until we saw the marks on his arms.”

“Like scratches?”

“No, they looked like an animal bit him. He swore he hadn’t been drinking, but when we made contact, he was still slurring his words and out of it as if he was.”

‘Not very strange but okay,’ Bakugou made a mental note. “Anything else?”

“Two days after that, a woman reported seeing an unusual green streak in the sky.”

Green?! That peaked Bakugou’s interest. “What direction was it going in?”

The man shrugged, “we didn’t ask because we assumed that she just saw a meteor or something going through the atmosphere.”

“Ugh!” he palmed his face. “I need to speak with her immediately. That could be a clue.” Bakugou proverbially rolled his eyes at the thought. ‘Bet the pro searchers didn’t think to ask these kinds of questions.’ Of course, if all you ask is a closed ended, ‘did you see x’ kind of question you’ll only get a yes or no answer. If Midoriya was on the run, he would be a fool to show himself so easily to citizens. So, the clues would lay in the minor details.

“Certainly,” the desk sergeant responded. “I will have an officer take you to her home.”

It was nice not having to walk or use his quirk unnecessarily. A patrol officer drove him to the edge of the town where the woman lived in a small cottage on her farming property. The home was a half mile from the main town and without streetlights, the night would be much darker with a better vantage point to see any phenomena in the sky. While the officer waited in the car with the hero’s belongings, Bakugou knocked on the woman’s door. When she answered, he introduced himself and asked her to tell him any details she could recall from the night of the green streak.

According to the older farmer woman, the light appeared to have originated from the forest bordering her farm and headed in an easterly direction. She pointed in the direction and Bakugou surmised it could be in the direction of Tokyo, but it was too general to know for sure.

“But how do you know it wasn’t a meteor or something naturally occurring?” Bakugou questioned the woman.

She smiled, “Young man, I have seen many in my lifetime and they always travel at a steady pace against the horizon. This one started off slower then sped up. In fact, right before it would have been over the town, it’s speed increased and moved so fast it disappeared in the blink of an eye.”

As if ‘it’ worried about being seen by the townsfolk, Bakugou realized. “And ma’am, are you sure it was a green colored light?”

Again, she nodded and smiled, “like a copper fire streaking through the sky.”

It took a moment for Bakugou to realize what the woman meant. Copper produced a greenish flame when burned, and green was also the color of Midoriyas quirk.

“One last question,” Bakugou asked. “Is there anything else you can think of, or anything in the area you saw the light coming from such as abandoned buildings, any cave systems, or maybe strange animal activity around that time?”

“Why yes! There’s an old abandoned mine in that part of the forest. There are probably still tunnels. My grandfather once worked them until it was closed down.”

Bakugou thanked the woman for her information and told the officer to wait for him while he checked out the mine, but the officer explained he needed to get back to town.

“I can come back around dark once I finish work and pick you up,” the man offered. “That would give you about four hours to do what you gave to do.”

“Yeah, that’ll work. Can you hold onto my stuff?”

“Sure, I’ll just take it to the station.”

“Perfect.” Bakugou agreed. He’ll probably need to stay the night anyway before moving on.

Once the patrol officer was gone, the hero blasted his way towards the forest in the direction the woman had provided to him. She’d told him that the area might be overgrown in many places, but the last time she’d been there, she remembered an old utility shed still standing. And sure, enough the growth was quite dense with little snippets of human structures peeking through the brush. Bakugou first found the entrance to the mine shaft but saw no evidence of activity such as disturbances in the dirt, no footprints, or signs of a campfire, anything that would suggest a human had been using it as a shelter. Next, he moved onto the shed the woman told him about and saw that the structure was still standing. Not surprising from what he could see of the material. Red pine was a strong type of wood resistant to mold, suitable for this kind of environment.

That’s where he saw the first glimpses of activity. Bakugou knelt and touched the recently disturbed earth in front of the shed’s door. Despite being around a month old, the dense tree canopy had protected the footprints and scuff marks from washing away. He moved into the small structure itself, gauging it was approximately eight feet wide by 10 feet deep. The walls were lined with broken shelves, some still holding a myriad of rotting, rusting tools, or other junk left behind. Nothing of real use, even if…

Bakugou’s eyes fall onto a jumbled pile of rags left on a shelf near the entrance. The lighting was poor, but when he got closer, he saw the red spots of dried blood. His breathing slowed, could it be? “Were you injured Deku?” He mumbled to himself as he picked up and turned the rags over in his hands to inspect them. It wasn’t a lot of blood, couldn’t have been very life-threatening injuries, but still, seeing the evidence made his blood boil. “Reckless idiot!” Bakugou screamed. “Where the fuck are you?!”

Of course, there was no way for him to confirm the blood was Midoriya’s and not some passing vagrant in the area. So, he kept searching the ruins of the building. If his friend had sheltered there, maybe he’d left something else behind, just a trace to confirm it was in fact Deku. He found a small burned-out area on the ground with remnants of a fire, including animal bones perhaps from a meal? There were other disturbances on the dirty shelves from a previous person rummaging around the left-over junk, but nothing more. Talk about frustrating!

No, wait… Bakugou zeroed in on a tiny scrap of fabric partially obscured by a shelf as if it had fallen and been pushed underneath by accident. It was only a quarter-size of his palm, and the torn piece of fabric wasn’t discolored which meant it hadn’t been there long. ‘This looks like a piece of his uniform,’ Bakugou surmised. It matched the green color Midoriya wore. Now he had a torn fabric the same color of Deku’s uniform, the green streak seen in the sky shortly after the battle, and the recent blood on rags. Circumstantially, it was good enough to convince Bakugou that this had been his friend and the man really was still alive and on the run.

“See!” Bakugou raged to himself in that empty forest. “Stupid idiots! I should’ve been out here looking sooner not them! Who else would know Deku better than me?!” ‘Tch,’ those fools in the task force didn’t know anything considering the woman told him no one else had talked to her before him. What took him less than a day to find, was more evidence than the authorities had found in a whole month of searching!

Originally, Bakugou had planned to stay in the area, but if he believed this promising information, Midoriya was heading back east. ‘Hopefully back home.’ Three weeks had passed since this woman’s claim of a green streak, so either Midoriya hadn’t arrived back in Shizuoka, or he was still hiding out somewhere. Either way this was promising; something better than nothing at all. So, he took the officer up on the offer to stay the night at a small inn they hooked him up with, but bright and early the next morning Bakugou caught the bus out of town heading in the direction the woman provided. ‘I’m coming Deku…’

#bakudeku #bakudeku fan fic #bkdk #bakudeku fan fiction #katsudeku #ktdk #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku canon divergent au #vampire quirk #ch 4 #bloody passion #petri808

[bigskydreaming]

“I was human once. Where were you then?” I pretty thoroughly abandoned Teen Wolf after season 4, and even before then, I didn’t engage with the fandom much, but the voice that you give Scott is enough to keep me with one toe dipped in the pond. He’s funny and clever and kind. Even years since I’ve read anything else in TW, WTWTA continues to be a favourite. Do you feel like talking about where you were planning to go with it? I’ve seen you talk about Lightning Crashes plenty, but not WTWTA.

Thank you so much for this ask! Not gonna lie, Lightning Crashes consumes most of my remaining Teen Wolf attention just because its so freaking big and I've got so much written for it over the years that like, I will riot against myself if I don't finish it because like ugh I didn't write all that just to have it sit unread in my own damn files forever, y'know? So like, while I would love to return to Where Wild Things Are someday I'm not trying to make any claims about that one until LC is off my back. Tbh, I'm trying not to make any claims about fanfic or deadlines until I'm fully recovered from my surgery and whatnot because like......my day to day life is just not reliable and I hate not being able to keep my word on stuff.

BUT. That all said, I do still have a lot of fondness for WWTA and plenty of thoughts about it and willingness to talk about where it was headed for anyone who prefers to just hear about that on the assumption it won't ever really get returned to, cuz like, you are Valid.

And I actually have a lot of fondness for that part you quoted in particular, like, I've heard a lot of good things from people about that whole interaction being a standout for them, and its a personal fave because it pretty succintly got to the heart of some of my biggest issues with Teen Wolf's portrayal of hunters and specifically their ideology and self-justifications.

Anyway, some basics about where that fic was going below the cut, and I'm happy to go into more detail or provide snippets or excerpts from future parts as well.

So the very next chapter after what was posted is actually another Scott POV, and it has Peter showing up to his house at night while his mom's at work, Cora with her uncle as well, and 'summoning' Scott to be by his side as well while Peter goes to meet with another Alpha in a rival pack's territory. (Said Alpha being Ennis, in this case).

This chapter's actually a pretty interesting one IMO because I used it to play around with a personal headcanon I have for chemo-signals. There's actually been a fair amount of theorizing in the scientific (and pseudo scientific, lol) communities about what it might be like if humans could pick up on and interpret chemo-signals, because the science suggests that actually we DO.....just at such a tiny magnification so as to make it impossible to get any like, usable data from what little our noses do pick up.

But a popular theory is that picking up on chemo-signals would produce a physiological like, 'mirroring' of what's being picked up on, like....okay, so there's this thing in a lot of evolutionary traits that are linked to survival mechanisms. Where like, the body in the act of receiving various signals from another being about something being dangerous or threatening or to be avoided, it'll essentially mimic the very signs of distress or warning in the person or creature its picking up those signals from. Its kinda part of an automatic feedback loop, like going through a version of the same reaction a person is seeing in others is part of the body and brain's interpretative process, taking in certain stimuli and then processing it in ways that end up with the brain consciously cluing in that what its seeing is that it should be wary of danger.

I'm explaining it badly, but the basic idea is like.....you know that almost instinctive flinch of horror or fear you get almost in like....sympathy, when you see someone else in obvious distress or terror....even before or without seeing or experiencing whatever it is that's making them so distressed/afraid yourself? That's an example of what I'm talking about here. One creature or person transmits various signals - be they visual by way of stance or expression, or scent, or auditory like screams - and surrounding 'pack creatures' or basically any nearby beings likely to be part of that initial being's pack or herd or community.....they pick up these signals and the message of warning or whatever being conveyed via those signals....and in the process of translating that into some kind of actionable instinct, they ALREADY replicate and thus partially pass on those very same signals themselves.

So the thing about scents that we give off even as humans, is that there's actually a LOT of data and signals encoded into these scents or the various things our bodies produce in association with these scents, like sweat. Even though we can't discern these scents to any degree that allows us to meaningfully interpret the data encoded in them, because we didn't ever end up evolving down the evolutionary path that might have resulted in us being able to smell to that degree....like, the information is still THERE, packed into those scents and odor-producing body by-products.

And that has a lot to do with why we react the way we often do to smelling someone's sweat even to the degree that we DO pick it up.....because think of what bodily reactions tend to produce sweat. Its not just physical exertions, its also in a response to nervousness or discomfort or disgust or outright danger, etc.....and our instinctive responses to scenting the sweat someone produces is often to like....mirror those very same emotions. Just to a much more minor degree than if we were able to smell to the same degree that like, we can see.....and thus pick apart single scents and interpret the various distinct elements and emotions packed INTO those, much like how our eyes are evolved to pick apart visuals and interpret specific details about shapes we see in front of us and give a lot more nuance and specificity to what our eyes are picking up on.

So the theory is that if we WERE able to smell to this keen degree....we would be able to tell a LOT about people's emotional state just from the physiological byproducts they produce in various emotional states.....BUT there'd be a trade-off. We would also be prone to the same tendency to unconsciously mimic the signals we were picking up on.....so our own scent glands, our own expressions, would be likely to 'pass on' the indications of fear or arousal or anxiety that we're smelling.

What intrigued me about this idea, in terms of werewolves who are stated to be able to pick up and interpret chemo-signals......is that it carries with it the implication that actually, most werewolves - at least those in packs - would have EXCELLENT self-control, in contrast to what most hunters believe about werewolves and their lack thereof.

Because think about it......if werewolves are constantly being bombarded with the chemo-signals of those around them, and interpreting these smells and the signals contained within them with the same matter of fact ease most of us translate the visual signals our eyes convey to us......in actuality, werewolves would need to have exceptional control over their own reactions to external stimuli.......or else they'd constantly stand out by having facial expressions and stance cues that seem to change radically with seemingly very little reason for them to do so as far as normal humans around them can tell. And at the same time, the facial reactions they might instinctively flash to in response to picking up say, stark terror from someone who was trying their best to hide that VISUALLY due to the presence of someone they were afraid of like an abuser....the fact that werewolves seemed to often be reacting to things they were picking up on in ways that seemed completely contrary to what visual or auditory cues were evident to everyone else....this would also make them stand out even in a crowd.

So to my mind, the extent to which werewolves were shown deciphering information via chemo-signals on the show suggests that actually, werewolf packs would place a huge focus on teaching their children and their new bitten members both the importance of having firm self-control over their own reactions and emotional state - in order to counter their own instinctive tendencies upon smelling things like strong fear or arousal or anxiety in others - as well as the HOW of doing just that.

Which in turn would lead to the idea that its the LACK of a pack - and the grounding knowledge and presence of other experienced werewolves - which most often results in the existence of the 'out of control' omega werewolves that hunters use to justify the necessity of their existence.

Think how bewildering it would be to constantly be bombarded with signals and cues that suggest that the people around you are at any given moment in heightened states of panic and distress and discomfort. How much that would shred your own self-control if you weren't extremely practiced - and aided - in keeping a clear awareness of your OWN emotional state and feelings at all times, so you don't get swept away by the tide of emotional information you're picking up on all sides. I imagine it wouldn't be that much different walking down the hall of a school picking up the scent chemo-signals of a hundred teenagers in the throes of puberty, hormonal changes, and constant stress and intense feelings.....than say, if you or I were to walk down that same hall and instead of just seeing and hearing a hundred teenagers laughing and talking and going about their day, we saw and heard every one of those teenagers acting out visual and auditory cues of extreme intensity on all sides, from some of them screaming for dozens of different reasons to others being clear images of someone in pain or outright terror, etc.

Its a lot. Its easy to imagine that omega werewolves would not actually be any less 'capable' than any other werewolf, they're not wild or feral because they're lesser or whatever.....its simply for whatever reason, they never were taught the lesson of just how important it is to learn how to not just interpret scent cues, but block them out when necessary or at the very least maintain a conscious awareness of how to keep your own sense of self prioritized in your brain over just....instinctively reacting to everything being flung at you information wise.

Anyway. So a big component of what's to come there is how this might impact the world of Teen Wolf if explored in depth.....

Because on the one hand, this information would be the EXACT thing needed to really put things into clarity re: hunters and werewolves. The reality that actually, most werewolves are exceptional at self-control....that when they're a danger to others, its usually because they're that way with INTENT like Deucalion or Ennis. That most werewolves aren't the inches-from-being-mindless timebombs that hunters stress are the real reason for why they exist. The omegas are actually the odd ones out, and their lack of self-control is something that can actually be mitigated by integration into existing packs or just more avenues for educating themselves on what they are now and what differences that makes in their lives and just their very approaches to life.

But on the other hand, this information is exactly what werewolves like Scott CAN'T inform hunters of en masse.....because of the existence of hunters like Gerard and Kate who actually don't CARE about the code and the idea of just existing to protect humanity from the out of control dangerous 'monsters'....but rather just want to kill werewolves for other reasons. Because hunters who were fully in the know as to how much control the average werewolf has over their emotional state....as well as WHY its so important for them to learn and practice such exceptional self-control......because of how VULNERABLE to reacting to the emotional states of others werewolves are......they would no doubt be able to weaponize this against werewolves. After all, even exceptional self control is bound to waver if say, in the presence of large numbers of humans who are being deliberately influenced to give off certain scent cues in mass quantities......just so hunters can pick out at a distance who seems to be reacting to things none of the humans present seem to be aware of, etc.

So things like this are meant to become central to Scott and Allison's burgeoning relationship and the everpresent question they each have for how much they can really trust the other - and trust the other WITH - no matter how much they want to. Even as Scott starts to fall for Allison and believe the best of her, he's very aware of her still existant ties to her family, her own 'pack' - and despite being in possession of so much knowledge about werewolves that could most likely open Allison's eyes even further to how inaccurate most of the information she and others like her father are working off of is......Scott's equally keenly aware that giving her that information COULD still backfire and put his own pack in danger if it for whatever reason doesn't end up being enough to fully bring her over to his side.

Basically the big theme of the story has always been about who can you trust, even when you really WANT to trust them, because even people with similar moralities can have conflicting priorities and its not always enough to just be on the same page in one of those respects.

Anyway, the next chapter is big on introducing the importance of chemo-signals as Peter drives to his meeting with Ennis and tells Cora and Scott to settle between themselves who will accompany him inside (a clear position of prominence relevant to the ongoing power struggle between Cora and Scott for influence among their packmates). And most of that happens by way of the two of them 'scent-talking' to each other in the backseat. Because a side-effect of the idea that smelling chemo-signals prompts certain facial cues in response, as well as exceptional control over their own emotions and thus accompanying physiological cues, means that its possible for werewolves to have very involved silent discussions just by deliberately invoking various scents for the other, etc.

Cora of course wins that mini-battle between them, by way of the leverage she has over Scott now that she knows he's able to lie to Peter without betraying it with his scent or his heartbeat. Peter would never risk having someone capable of lying to him with no sign, so that's as good of a death sentence if he finds out. But at the same time, its something Cora knows she can't milk for too long, because the longer SHE has the information that Scott is capable of that, the less effective it becomes as leverage.....since hiding that from Peter could massively backfire and put her at risk too, meaning there's only so long she can use it as leverage against Scott before it becomes a case of mutually assured destruction and he says 'go ahead, tell Peter, and once he finds out how long you've kept that from him see what position that leaves you in.'

So Cora knows this information is best used sooner rather than later, so she leverages it off the bat, to get Scott to cave on this one and so she's the one to accompany Peter to his top secret meeting with Ennis and learn whatever they're talking about and what the basis of this alliance they seem to have formed is. Also, Peter comes out of the meeting carrying a mysterious box he got from Ennis, that seems to have been his goal all along, and has Cora troubled, but unwilling to divulge any information about what it might be.

Scott however gets something out of the meeting too, because even while left outside, he discovers some key information.....Ennis' pack includes Jiang and Tierney, two members of Brett's old pack that he thought were dead. Ennis had 'taken them in' though they really didn't have a ton of choice in the matter and were less than thrilled about it....which gives Scott the start of an actual plan. Which thickens once he learns Brett's sister Lorilee is alive as well, and a member of Kali's pack, along with refugees from another wiped out pack, the Primals.

Essentially, where this is all building towards is over time, Scott starts reaching out to the exploited and miserable teens stuck at the bottom of abusive packs they never asked to be a part of but are afraid to leave....and begins building an alliance of teens across multiple local packs. None of them are strong enough to overthrow their own Alphas on their own, but together, they could be strong enough to overthrow a single Alpha, and then consolidate as a pack of their own behind a single teen Alpha.

Of course, problem is Cora figures this out eventually as well, and begins building her own rival alliance among teens from Kali's pack and others, and it essentially becomes a race to get an alliance strong enough to topple Peter built first, before the other can make their move.

On Allison's side of things, she begins mentoring the younger teens that Scott picked out as being eyed by his Alpha as potential recruits. This involves teaching them archery at her house one weekend, only to then discover from Gerard's conversation with her parents that hunters recovered the arrow Allison had shot through Isaac's shoulder way back in the first chapter. They found blood on it, and are planning to use it to see if the person that blood belongs to is in the system at all. Which Isaac is, due to being in the foster care system, even if only nominally.

Feeling complicit and not ready to trust the werewolves yet but not willing to feel personally responsible for the death of someone she goes to school with, Allison alerts Scott to the danger. Which in turn leads to the pack under Peter's orders, like, breaking into the facility where the arrow and blood are being analyzed and destroy the sample before it can trace back to Isaac and from there, the rest of them by association.

Problem is, its Matt's first official 'outing' on a werewolf mission and he decides to revel in his newfound power by killing a guard. Welcome to Team Blue Eyes, Mattie. That didn't take long. Not that anyone is surprised, but Scott is a bit screwed by it. Because now Allison is furious and retreating from their slowly building alliance/relationship because she feels guilty that her information led to someone getting killed by a werewolf and thinks she never should have shared her intel even though Scott tries to stress that he had no control over Matt and could do nothing to stop it.

So that kinda puts a roadblock in the Scallison that takes time to work past, though it will of course get worked past.

Meanwhile elsewhere, Peter's plans for turning more freshmen are delayed when Cora and Scott both feel pressed to alert him of a surprising development at Beacon Hills High before the other tells Peter first. Suddenly there are two new werewolves at school - albeit very nervous, scared and confused werewolves - and they aren't transfer students. Someone turned two of their classmates, Tracy and Josh, and that someone was NOT Peter. So now Peter is outraged because someone is turning people in his territory which is a clear challenge from another Alpha, and he wants to know who. Which leads to Erica and Boyd being assigned to tail the new wolves and see who they lead back to.....as well as both Scott and Cora, by now accelerating their efforts to build up support for their positions both inside and outside of the pack, like both of them now make plays to get Erica and Boyd from the No Man's Land they've been residing in, and get them to finally pick a side between the two rivals for Peter's Alpha crown. With the information they glean from following the two new surprise werewolves being vital to both Scott and Cora's plans.

The Alpha in question turns out to be Deucalion, who is back in the area after years away where he seemed uninterested in werewolf politics, but now seems to be intent on building up a new pack for himself across multiple Alphas' territories in earnest.

Meanwhile meanwhile, Scott has started to worry about where Theo's loyalties actually lie, as Boyd informs him that part of what's kept him from throwing in with Scott is Boyd keeps his nose to the ground to stay very informed on what's what and keep abreast of what everyone else is doing at all times - Boyd is very big on the idea that knowledge and thus information is power - so Boyd has been paying more attention to Theo than even Scott has lately, given how much Scott's got going on at the moment. And Theo's been making some moves of his own that have Boyd distrustful of just how much Scott ACTUALLY has his loyalty, and thus Boyd is wary of hitching his wagon to the prospective Alpha who is perhaps not as well or thoroughly supported as he thinks he is, or is counting on being.

So Theo being Theo will complicate matters considerably. Note that I don't go with unnecessarily evil Theo ever, as that's boring, but I always fuck with absolutely and necessarily self-interested and amoral Theo because that's anti-boring. So Theo's not out to screw Scott just to screw him (well not THAT way at least), but Theo is big on covering his bases and he's contemplating making his own bid for power because he's not sure he trusts that Scott can pull this off and Cora's not an option given that he HAS until now been Team Scott in all visible ways, so he's seeking....other options. Just so he can have the most possible options and vet them thoroughly before deciding on a course of action, naturally.

The big tipping point to all of this will come when someone betrays Scott to some hunters and leads to him being captured and identified as a werewolf by some hunters loosely affiliated with Allison's family.....and Allison makes her choice here for good and risks everything to rescue Scott which might involve someone dying. Not a main character. But uh, there definitely is some dying and it makes Allison and Scott both feel things like guilt, regret, self-recrimination and also "I did what I did and that's that about that" with only like 60% of that being bravado to cover up omg I have no idea what I'm even doing anymore.

In order to find somewhere for Scott to recuperate that is not her house, because lol duh, and is not Scott's house, because Peter lol duh, a desperate Allison ends up looping in Lydia, Danny, Jackson and Stiles, and enlisting their help in hiding Scott at Lydia's lakehouse until he recovers. This leads to them all finally being in the know and uncomfortably allying with Isaac and some other werewolf members of Team Scott, who are of course furious at the betrayal of any werewolf giving up one of their own to hunters, let alone Scott.....which leads to the twins making a surprise shift in allegiance, because they think Cora was behind the hunters finding out and that's too far for them. It was NOT in fact Cora, but it might have been someone ON Team Cora who thought they were doing what Cora would have wanted them to do. And by might have I mean definitely and also they were Not Correct in their assumptions about what Cora would want. She and Scott are rivals and she's an antagonist here but she's not evil or even as bloodthirsty as she pretends to be for appearances, but she like Theo is looking out for number one and what she believes is best for what remains of a Hale pack, any Hale pack.

Other stuff happens, Liam does get turned, Mason gets his druidic knowledge on because that's a Trope that no Kalen story will ever be without, and the ultimate showdown between teens and asshole adult werewolves will end with Scott True Alpha level-upping but Peter definitely will still die as will several other Alphas and Scott is not the only teen who ends up an Alpha at the end of things though each teen Alpha will for now go their own way with their own pack made up of kids from the two teen wolf alliances. There will be confrontations with the hunters before the end too, beyond just rescuing Scott from the NPC hunters who are destined for Demiseville, population them, but the hunters will not be 'totally defeated' in as much as that's even a possibility, and the story was always meant to end with the McCall pack and some human allies taking to the road to find somewhere else to establish a territory and build their strength (and graduate high school) before making a full stand against hunters.

Backstory is meant to be filled in all the way through, with a focus on Scott and Derek's not-at-all-like-canon relationship as for the first year or so after Scott was turned, Derek was still around and did his best to help guide and teach Scott while acting as a buffer against his uncle which Scott greatly appreciated and his thoughts of 'fuck you Derek' should be taken as unreliable narration and mostly just cynical humor cuz he misses him. With said backstory reveals culminating in the eventual shocker of how Derek died (surprise, it was Peter in the parlor with the backstabbing and also candlestick), Cora finding out, cue Cora Not Being Very Pleased With Uncle Peter At The Moment, Actually, and like....other shenanigans are had.

Also also there may be a road trip involved at the veeeeeery end, that involves the mysterious box Peter traded something to Ennis for, which may or may not be magic and resurrection-oriented, but also definitely is both those things and aimed at a grand finale of teen Derek rising from mystical waters being like "who the fuck are you" at Scott who smiles and says "we're brothers."

And that's what you missed on Glee.

[hailbop1701]

ReaperXFemaleReader

Doom: To Hell And Back

Chapter 2: The Ark

Hey guys! I'm happy that the first chapter did okay. If you would like to get tagged please just let me know.

A man who strongly resembled a weasel walked towards the group. Holding out his hand he said, “ Sandford Crosby, UAC public relations.” Sarge had no desire to shake hands with him so he dropped it without missing a beat. 

“Now follow me, please.” he continued and you tune out the rest; only hearing snippets of the conversation. You looked around with mild interest as you and the others stopped in front of the Ark. The man stopped and cleared his throat, “Welcome to the Ark, gentlemen.” he paused seeing you for the first time. “And lady.” 

You raised an eyebrow as the computer announced, “ Initiating molecular mapping drive. All personnel, prepare for activation.” The weasel gestured for you all to stand back a bit. “ Keep your distance from the core or you might get sucked in,” he said with a nervous chuckle. 

Beside you, the Kid leaned towards Goat looking nervous, “You...You done this before?” he asked lowly. Goat gave a noncommittal shrug, “Once. Training Mission” he said and you turned away from the conversation. You really didn’t want to think about it; Ark travel left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t gonna be fun. You wrinkled your nose at the floating silver mass in front of the room, ‘Ugh this is gonna suck.’ you thought. 

Sarge told the weasel man to shut down the surface elevator for the standard six-hour quarantine.  “Target receiver initialized. - Ready to proceed. Ark Travel, 15 seconds.” the computer spoke and Reaper stepped forward. Within seconds the silver mass swallowed him completely. 

“Crow. You’re up.” Sarge said, jerking his head towards the front. Breathing in through your nose, you step forward. The computer counted down and before you knew it; you were gone. It felt like nothing, and everything all once. But sooner than it happened, it was over. You stumbled forward and gritted your teeth against nausea, taking in a sharp breath through your nose you’re faintly aware of someone guiding you to sit down. 

“That’s it. Head between your knees,” they whispered, you look up through your lashes and see Reaper there. All you gave him was a groan in response. “I hate Ark travel.” you mutter. Reaper chuckles humorously, “Yeah it’s not my favorite either.” he murmured back. Squeezing your shoulder one more time before he stood back up and watched as the others came through. You were pleased to see that some of the others fared a bit worse than you. 

Portman couldn’t hold it in. As soon as he stepped through the Ark he threw up; you weren’t sure what was worse. The smell or his complaining, “ Why we gotta come all this way? Why can’t UAC rent-a-cops take care of this bullshit?” 

You rolled your eyes and got up off the floor with a kind hand from Duke. The kid panted and straightened, “ Is it always that rough?” he asked still looking rather pale. 

“Believe me, it used to be a lot rougher. There was a time when Ark travel was susceptible to, let’s say, - major turbulence.” a man in a silver chair said rolling towards them. The poor kid looked confused, “What does he mean?” he asked incredulously. 

“He means he went to one galaxy, his ass went to another,” Reaper said without skipping a beat.  You smirked, “And here I thought he was doing a terrible impression of Darth Maul.” you muttered so only the closest to you could hear. Reaper coughed covering a laugh, Duke snorted not bothering in being discrete, and the Kid smiled; he relaxed a little at your words. Good. 

The man in the chair gave Reaper an unimpressed look, “Call it a scientific miscalculation. Unbelievable as it may seem, UAC does make the odd tiny mistake. Marcus Pinzerowsky. You can call me Pinky. Follow me.” 

You all move away from the Ark after Pinky. Sarge asked where the personnel who weren’t locked down in the labs were. Without looking up from a computer console Pinky responded,  “ In the atrium.” 

Sarge nodded, “Pinky, put us up.” Punky hit a few controls and glanced up, “ Activating remote personal surveillance.” he said. “Circle out men, on my three,” Sarge ordered. 

You got into the circle and turned your body slightly to the left, 

“One.” 

“Two.” 

“Three.” 

With a snap and click, you pointed your weapon at the person across from you which just so happened to be Reaper. He had his weapon pointed right back at you; and without really thinking you crossed your eyes and stuck out the tip of your tongue. And you really had to give it to the guy, he tried his damnedest to keep a poker face. You knew he was amused though by the subtle huff and the twitch of his lip. Sarge looked at you with only mild exasperation and shook his head. You merely gave him a thousand-watt smile as he gave orders. “ People, this room is a code red, which means no one gets in without our permission. It stays ours at all costs. Mac, stay here with our friend and secure the door. Men, on me. Let’s move out. Open the door.” 

People whispered around them, the atrium was abuzz with activity. A man approached Sarge, concern etched on his face. “When can I start evacuating people out through the Ark?” he asked Immediately. “We’re at a level 5 quarantine, nobody goes anywhere,” Sarge said ending the discussion right then and there.  

You watched out of the corner of your eye as Portman sauntered up to a group of women trying to convince them that it was quarantine protocol to do a strip search. Duke shifted next to you and snorted, shook his head. “On behalf of all men. I’m sorry,” he whispered. You smirked and tilted your head up to reply but his gaze was fixed on something else. Or someone else. 

A woman about your age walked with a purpose up to your group, right past Portman ignoring him. Her blonde ponytail swung back and forth until she made it to a stop beside the head of security.  “ Sergeant, this is Dr. Samantha Grimm, UAC science officer assigned to retrieve data from the lab.” 

“Sergeant.” Dr. Grimm politely greeted, and her eyes slid over to Reaper. “Hello, John.” 

“Hello, Samantha,” Reaper muttered back clearly uncomfortable. ‘Oh He’s not happy’ you thought dryly. “Hello Samantha!” a voice said excitedly next to you; rolling your eyes you elbow Duke in the ribs making him hiss. 

“Sarge, this operation is a code red. We really don’t have room for passengers.” Reaper said cooly. Dr. Grimm bristled, “ Excuse me, but I have orders to retrieve data from three servers: Anthropology, Forensic Archeology, and Genetics.” 

“This is a military operation Doctor. We’re really not here to retrieve your science homework.” Reaper ground out. ‘Oh boy.’ you thought with a slight wince. 

“Look, I got an idea. Why don’t you ask your CO what your orders are?” Dr. Grimm asked almost too sweetly. “This is better than daytime TV,” you muttered under your breath. Duke snorts and shifts a little when Goat glares at him. 

Sarge sighed, “ To contain and neutralize the threat, protect the civilians, and retrieve UAC property.”  he said monotonously.  Dr. Grimm looked completely satisfied, while Reaper looked utterly peeved. ‘Yeah, bet they’re siblings.’ you thought finally.  Dr. Grimm walked away, leading them onward. 

“Is this going to spoil my day? Sarge asked eyeing Reaper. The man in question scowled, “No, sir.” 

Duke let out a low whistle, “ Tell me you didn’t let a fine-looking piece of ass like that get away from you, Reaper.” 

Reaper looked grossed out for a split second before saying, “She’s my sister.” 

“No shit!” Duke exclaimed happily. ‘Fucking called it.’ you thought smugly. ‘Only family can piss you off like that.’ 

As we walked toward the pressure door Dr. Grimm explained the layout of the labs. “There’s three sections to Carmack’s lab complex. Archeology, Genetics, and Weapons Research.” 

“You test weapons up here,” Duke asked surprised. You wanted to retort with a smartass remark but Dr. Grimm beat you to the punch. “ Well, it’s a dead planet. You want that tested here, where it’s safe, or in your own backyard?” 

“Been there, done that, got the radiation poisoning.” you automatically chirped earning a few chuckles. Dr. Grimm smiled at you and continued. “ We’re primarily an archeological operation. Weapons Research is in its own separate facility. It had nothing to do with Dr. Carmack’s work.” 

Somehow that didn’t make you feel any better. Something was wrong here and you could feel it in the pit of your stomach. “How many inside when the lab shut down?” Sarge asked looking down at the good Doctor. “Only Dr. Carmack’s team. That’s six people. In one of the carbon dating labs, there was an internal phone left off the hook.” she said warily. 

“Did you get any information from it?” Sarge asked. Dr. Grimm looked at the head of security who then held up a small device. What you heard sent a deep chill down your spine and into your very core. Even after the recording was turned off you could still hear the screams echo around in your head. 

“Open the door.” 

@thottiewithashotgun

@dw-writes

@lauraaan182

#doom 2005 #reaper x reader #slow burn #john grimm #reader insert #ReaperXFemaleReader #karl urban #john grimm x reader

[a-walk-in-silence]

The New Coffee Spot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Everything has changed in the world. People that were alive are now gone, and you? You’re one of the unlucky few who got to stick around.

Warnings: Infinity War, Endgame, mentions of death, character death, cursing, angst, crying, abandonment

A/N: Welcome to the sequel of the sequel that took almost two years! (Sorry for this not being posted two days ago I was sidetracked and my laptop just wasn’t working, but I’m here!)

Previous Part | Masterlist

The time spent awake was few and far between.

You were awake a few minutes at a time, enough to eat and drink something, and then your body gave out again. Every once in a while you would get snippets of Tony and Nebula talking. Sometimes you would even hear the sounds of them working on ship repairs. But you were never able to stay awake for long, your body wouldn't let you.

"She won't survive much longer. Neither of you will if we don't get rescued soon." Nebula's cold hands brushed across your side, gauging your wound and how it had managed to heal. "Air will run out soon. My modules would keep me alive, but the two of you will die when the air does."

A rough chuckle came from Tony as frail hands gripped your own. "You don't know how stubborn she is, then. She goes years living in one tiny apartment, in love with the second most egotistical person on Earth while best friends with the person in first. She has a cat that she loves and coffee flows in her veins even though she's more of a tea person. She loves the boost it gives her. She never gives up in the face of danger because she knows that giving up means we lose. She won't die because she hates losing."

You wanted to speak, but your voice wasn't working. You didn't even have the energy to open your mouth. So all you did was gently tap his hand with your index finger. He once again chuckled, squeezing your hand. "She'll live because she has to," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Because if one of us is living, it'll be her."

The next time you were awake, Tony was holding you closely as the ship sped through space. A tiny groan left your lips as you shifted painfully, not sure what to make of this scene. Were you alive? Was this some weird afterlife?

But then you saw it, right smack dab in the middle of the large viewing window. It looked so tiny, but it was growing closer with every passing second. You smiled gently. "Home." Your voice was scratchy and hoarse from not being used for… well, you weren't certain how long had passed, really. How many days had you been drifting through space? How long had you been gone?

"Home," Tony echoed, gripping your shoulders tighter. "We made it, Y/N."

Your eyes were begging you to sleep, even though you had spent so long asleep. But you wanted to see Earth, see where you ended up. You needed this, to see who had brought you back home. You wanted to see Bucky, hold him while you cried. And what about Bobby and Penny? Did they make it?

It was about two minutes when you landed. You recognized the setting from pictures Steve had sent you years ago. It was the Avengers compound.

Fuck.

You heard footsteps behind you, and your bleary eyes watched as Nebula walked over to the control board and opened the hatch door. Your grip on Tony's arm tightened, almost scared to see these people that the two of you had been abandoned by. Maybe Pepper was there. Maybe she had survived. But if Steve was there? Could you really look him in the eye?

The first to come on board was Rhodey, and he went to Tony right away. "Hey, good to see you. Same to you, Agent."

Tony's grip around you loosened as he tried to stand up. "She needs help. She was stabbed on Titan and I… I can't carry her myself."

The two of them worked together to get you up on your feet, and your body was screaming at you to stop. To just lay down and stay down. Your face contorted in pain as you took your first step before collapsing to your knees, the only thing keeping you from eating ass being Tony and Rhodey.

"Shit, shit, okay." Rhodey helped lower you back to the ground before wrapping an arm around Tony's waist. "Stay awake and I'll be back with help. Uhh… can you stay with her?" He glanced towards Nebula, not sure of who she was or why the hell she was there.

"I will. They both need immediate medical attention, so hurry." Her voice was about as monotonous as always, but her posture was tense. She looked ready to fight if needed, and she would fight if the two of you didn't get the help you needed.

Rhodey nodded and then he disappeared off the ship. As soon as he was gone, another person had ran on board, and it was probably the last person you wanted to see right now.

"Y/N," he was breathless, completely frazzled. "You survived. I-"

Steve reached out to grab you but you managed to push yourself away from him. A look of pain filled his face as he stopped moving instantly. "Stay away." The sound of your own voice made you flinch, but it was nothing compared to the flinch your words had caused Steve. "You… left me… abandoned me. For months… I was alone!" Raising your voice at the end actually hurt you, making you whimper as a tired hand grabbed your throat, trying to rub away to the pain only to make it worse. "Stay… away."

"Steve," said the calming voice of Natasha, walking in from behind him. Her hand touched his shoulder, pulling him back. "Go. Rhodey and I have her."

He looked ready to argue, ready to yell and scream and even cry. And yeah, okay, you had seen him cry loads of times in the past. As much as he never let his Avengers buddies see him cry, he cried a lot. He cried while watching The Notebook of all movies. The most cliche movie to cry over. But never in front of his friends.

And he absolutely was about to break down right now.

But he listened to Nat, turning on his heels and immediately leaving the ship. You watched him go, fighting tears of your own. You blinked furiously, which definitely wasn't helping with the tiredness that was tugging on your mind, trying to lull you back to sleep. But you couldn't fall asleep! Not now! Not ever! You were so tired of being asleep.

Nat and Rhodey managed to shift your body enough between the two of them, practically dragging you out of the spaceship and down the boarding ramp. Your head was so heavy, but you couldn't sleep, not now… not when you were so close…

But then you were out, no longer able to fight that painful tugging at the back of your eyes.

There wasn't a full sit down with you and Tony until you were able to fully talk without hurting yourself and could stay awake for longer than 10 minutes at a time. So the two of you were sitting at one end of a table while the others just drilled you for information about what you went through, where Thanos was going, and did you know?

Tony was quick to anger, clearly annoyed with everyone. "What, do you think he gave us coordinates to his retirement home? Really? Do you want to know what he left us with? One hell of an asskicking and about 5 dusted people on a desolate planet eons away from home."

"And the funny thing is," he added, standing up from his wheelchair, "is that we saw this coming. I wanted a suit of armour around the world and that backfired. You all chided me for wanting to protect the Earth with that suit of arm. When I said we'd lose, you said we'd do that together. Well guess what? We lost. And Y/N and I were alone while you were off trotting the globe. It would have been one thing if circumstances were different, but you really want to play the victim when you abandoned your own girlfriend because she was worried about an oncoming battle, Rogers?"

"Tony," you said, voice quiet as you grabbed his hand. "Please sit down before you pass out." You refused to look over to Steve, knowing you would see his kicked puppy eyes. You weren't sure you could handle it right now.

Tony sighed before sitting back down, trying to calm down. You glanced around the table, pausing before you could look in Steve's direction. "We don't have any information. If you don't need me for anything else, then I want to go home to my cat." You put an extra emphasis on the word my, standing your ground on the issue of Bucky. "I want to leave, and I'm sure Tony and Pepper do, too. I'm done with this, with saving the world. Tony was right, even if he was a little angry. We lost and we didn't do it together. I'm not in the mood to lose again, especially not with any of you."

Your voice was unusually calm, hanging in the air as your words settled. Many of them looked guilty or pained, knowing that the stupid boyband split that everyone went through caused wounds that would never heal. The silence made sides very clear. You and Tony were on your own with giving up, moving on while you still could and picking up the pieces of what was left of the world and do the best job of fixing it up.

So, you left a week later with Pepper and Tony, making a stop at your apartment to try and clean it up and see the damages. You hoped Bucky was still alive and that, hopefully, Bobby and Penny had made it out alive.

You stood outside the door to your apartment, scared to see just what would be waiting for you on the other side of the door. Tony placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, a silent way of telling you that you could do this. And you knew you could. But that didn't mean you necessarily wanted to.

Still you did. You opened the door and looked around your apartment and, well, it looked a lot messier than you remembered. There were books and crayons everywhere, along with abandoned food wrappers and dirty plates. "What the-?"

"Y/N!"

Before you knew it, the tiny arms of your 6-year-old neighbor wrapped around your hips, holding you tightly as she started crying. You were in shock, your mind not processing everything that was happening around you. Penny was here, but what about Bobby? And Bucky?

"Hey, hey, hey…" You unwound her arms from around your waist, kneeling in front of her. "Penny, what happened? Where's your dad, and Bucky?"

She sniffled, rubbing at very red eyes. "Daddy disappeared," she mumbled, her voice wavering. "H-He was making food and then he just… disappeared."

You pulled her into a tight hug as you glanced over your shoulder at Tony. He looked tired once more, but he nodded to you, understanding that you needed him right now to talk to Penny. You needed to see the damages for yourself, see just what state everything was in.

"Hey kid," Tony said, and you let go of Penny so she could look at him. "My dad… he's gone, too. He wasn't really ever there, but… come on, let Miss Y/N see to the apartment and you and I can go find a treat."

She nodded, rubbing at her eyes as she followed him, grabbing his outstretched hand. You gave them a sad smile, watching them disappear down the hall before getting to your feet. Walking around the apartment reminded you of all the ghosts that were in this one apartment. All of the memories, all of the pain and heartache. It all was contained in this one apartment.

"Bucky?" you called out, voice uneven, fearing the worst. "Bucky, are you here?"

Silence followed you as you carefully tread through the warzone that had become of your living room. Your footsteps fell silent as you reached the hallway carpet that was filled with clothes and trinkets from both your room and Steves. A few of his shirts were strewn about, and several of your nicer dresses were added in the mix. But both doors were closed. You hoped that behind one of them, Bucky would be curled up, fast asleep. But you just didn't know, and it scared you.

It was a 50/50 guess of which room to check, and you really didn't want to go through Steve's stuff right now. Taking a deep breath, you opened your door, hoping that maybe Penny had been sleeping in there and that Bucky had been sleeping with her.

But it was empty, the exact same as when you had left it. Which was odd. Why had Penny chosen Steve's room to sleep in? Whenever she would come over while visiting with Bobby, Steve's room was always off limits. Well, it didn't matter anyway. Bucky definitely was NOT in your room.

You took a deep breath before turning on your heels and staring at Steve's room. You could do this. You could open a door. This was for Bucky, the one thing that was continuous through your life. He was always there, by your side. He was your everything.

Then why in the hell were you so scared?

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the doorknob, relenting to this fate. You had to go in and get your cat. Just go in, grab your cat, and leave.

You turned the knob and, sure enough, the sheets were everywhere, and so were his clothes. Sure enough, Bucky was curled up on his pillow amongst a pile of Steve's things. "Bucky," you said, breathing a sigh of relief. He raised his head, chirping at you. Tears came to your eyes as you walked over, picking him up. His little arms stretched up into the air as he used your shoulder to try a stretch. You held onto him tightly, never wanting to let go. "I've missed you so much, buddy. Come on, let's pack some stuff and get out of here."

--5 Years Later--

You were busying yourself in the kitchen, making breakfast for Penny because you knew she would be up in an hour. This had become routine. While morning coffee was brewing, you made food, typically chocolate chip pancakes and sliced fruit, for Penny. Afterwards, you would take her over to Tony's and use his extensive library to handle her schooling needs from home. You liked being able to keep an eye on her, and Bucky enjoyed the time alone to bask in the sun.

The past 5 years had been interesting, to say the least. You and Tony had really grown into the brother-sister relationship. The two of you discovered that your Aunt and Uncle had taken him in when his dad died, though you couldn't really remember. You did assume it was because you were all of 5 or 6 when Tony stayed with you, but it was interesting none the less that he referred to Peggy and Daniel as his Aunt and Uncle, too.

Nothing necessarily felt different on this specific morning, but the house was even quieter than usual. You tried to shrug it off. Bucky was probably still asleep with Penny. Then again, the times you had woken up scared that they had disappeared overnight was a feeling you just couldn't shake. Time never helped. And you were definitely feeling it at that moment.

"Mom!" Penny yelled, running down the stairs. Normally, hearing her call you mom would bring a little joy to your heart. It was a fairly new habit, but one day you were suddenly mom, and it made your heart stop every time. But this was different. Pain was etched in her voice, and there were tears in her eyes. You knew, at that moment just what was wrong. Your heart was breaking already at the thought.

And so you picked up the phone, calling the first number that you now knew by heart. When they picked up, you were hugging Penny into your side, calmly brushing her hair to try and calm her tears. "Tony, it happened."

There was a pause on the other end, as your words settled in the air. "Right, I'll be there soon. Let me tell Morgan and we'll drive over after breakfast."

--Tony's POV--

Morgan was very distraught to hear the news, but it was necessary for her to be able to grieve at home before they made the drive to your home.

Once she finished breakfast, they got dressed in their black clothes. Tony helped her zip up her dress and held her hand as they walked out the door. He squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay soon. "Don't worry, Madame Secretary, there won't be any school today. I'm sure Auntie Y/N won't mind."

She nodded as they walked out the door. Tony gave her a smile before looking up at the sound of wheels heading down the dirt road to the cabin. He first thought it was you, but he quickly recognized the car. Steve.

Great.

He sighed before looking at Morgan. He kneeled in front of her, brushing her hair out of her face. "Tell you what, you run upstairs and grab your favorite toy. Tell mommy I said it was okay. Meanwhile I'll scare away the monsters in the car." She tilted her head to the side, glancing at the car that was coming to a stop next to his car. Guessing the question on the tip of her tongue, he spoke up. "Not bad monsters. Just very grumpy. Go on, now."

And so she ran back inside. Tony got back on his feet, looking towards the car as Steve, Nat, and Tic Tac got out. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, leaning against the driver side door.

"Yeah, a funeral. Maybe you would know who they were. I would invite you except Y/N really doesn't want to see you, and I imagine even less now." Tony unlocked his car, sitting on the hood. "So if you're just here for her address like the other thousand visits before today, I can't help you. By the way, wasn't Tic Tac missing?"

Steve sighed before slamming the car door shut. "He's why we're here. We think we can reverse the snap. Listen- wait. You said funeral? Who- is she okay?" He looked even more on edge now, ready to jump back in the car and search the entire world for you if he could.

"Yes. Funeral. Bucky passed away this morning. Morgan and Penny loved that damned cat and he... He'd been sick these past few months." Tony sighed, his head leaning down a little. "She doesn't want you there, so don't ask again, Rogers. Frankly I'm tired of seeing you, too. And I'm done saving the world. I have my own world to take care of, and that includes my family. That isn't just Pepper and Morgan, you know."

He watched as there was a flash of jealousy in Steve's eyes, and it almost brought a bit of joy to him. As tiring as this back and forth was, and as much as he wanted it to just stop, he knew Steve never looked defeated despite the amount of times he had said no. But he truly looked upset, and that was almost worth the trouble of dealing with Steve.

"Daddy!" They both turned to look at Morgan as she ran down the dirt pathway to them. "Mommy said to come save you," she said, trying her best to climb onto his lap. He smiled, picking her up and holding her in his arms.

"Well now I'm saved," he said, kissing the side of her head. He looked at Steve, shrugging his shoulders at him. "We have to go, Captain. Don't follow us. I don't know about you but crashing a funeral is taboo. Wouldn't want to upset Y/N, would we?"

Steve looked physically pained, as if making about 20 different debates in his head. He gave a look to Nat and they nodded. Some understanding was reached between the two of them. "Fine, but we're going to stay around until after the funeral. We need to talk, Tony. This is important."

"Fine. We'll talk, but that doesn't mean I'll listen." With that, he carried Morgan to the backseat of the car, buckling her up with her favorite bunny cradled in her arms. He kissed the top of her head before going to the front seat and getting behind the wheel. As he drove away, he saw the three of them getting into the car in his rearview mirror. He sighed, shaking his head. "I guess he doesn't care."

"What was that?" Morgan piped up from the backseat, hugging her bunny.

"Hmm? Nothing. Just commenting on some of the grumpy monsters we just met."

--Y/N's POV--

Tony was waiting outside with Penny and Morgan hidden away under a black umbrella, hiding from the blaring sun that was shining overhead. An arm was wrapped around Penny while Morgan held on tightly to his leg. And in your arms was a shoebox that Penny had helped you paint black. It felt unnaturally heavy, a burden sitting on your shoulders. How could this be goodbye?

You walked outside, grabbing the shovel that was leaning against the front door. Penny and Morgan were silently crying as the four of you walked to the water's edge of the lake. You set down the box, next to the hole you had dug up earlier.

"I don't know what to say," you mumbled, turning to everyone else. "Bucky was… he was the best kitten a gal could ever ask for. He was always a listener, and a cuddler. He would always sit up with me while I made breakfast and brewed coffee. He's been by my side for 12 long years and… he was taken far too early. I'll miss you, Bucky. I wish you didn't have to go, but I know it was for the best."

You motioned for Penny to join you and, together, you lowered the box into the hole before covering it in dirt. Tony walked over, handing you an engraved stone he made in his garage while Morgan had been eating earlier. You smiled sadly at the stone before placing it on the ground at the head of the grave.

"Bye, Bucky. I hope it was a good life." You swiped away your tears, hugging Penny as she broke down crying. Meanwhile, Tony walked over, holding your hand securely in his own.

"You know," he teased, squeezing your hand, "Aunt Peggy would roll her eyes if she saw you crying over a cat. I mean, really." He snickered before pulling out his best Peggy impression. "I don't recall teaching you how to cry. Go on, get up, you'll dirty your dress sitting in the dirt like that." You both shakily laughed as you rested your head against his shoulder, keeping hold of both him and Penny.

"She'd probably blame Uncle Daniel, saying it's because my mom was his niece and, clearly, the Sousa family was filled with nothing but emotions. Dastardly little things, aren't they?" Tony chuckled before kissing the top of your head, keeping the small pile of bodies huddled by Bucky's grave covered by his umbrella.

Everyone was about to head inside after a few more minutes when a silver car pulled into the driveway. And three familiar faces walked out of the car.

"Tony-" you started, watching as they walked over.

"I told him not to follow me to the funeral," he said, trying to make excuses for the fact that Steve was now walking the short walk to where you had just buried Bucky. You had just said your goodbyes and you really, really didn't need him here.

"You talked to him?"

"Y/N," Steve said, coming to a stop a few feet away from you. "And Tony. I know you don't want to talk to me or anyone, especially since you quit being heroes. But we need to talk."

Penny glanced up at Steve, and a huge smile broke out across her face. "Steve!"

She ran across the grass, hugging him tightly. You wanted to reach out to her, to pull her away, but you knew she remembered him. She remembered the kind, gentle giant that helped her with her first learn to spell. She loved having him read stories to her. And she always asked about him whenever she could. She knew her dad was gone, but she knew that Steve was still alive. She couldn't understand why you said he wasn't coming around anymore when he was still there.

"Hey Penny. Can you and Morgan go inside?" He kneeled down, ruffling her hair with his hand. "Gotta have a chat with Y/N and Tony."

Your eyes were hardened, tears on the verge of spilling. But no. You weren't going to cry over Steve, not again. Penny looked back at your, head tilted to the side. "Mom?"

"Go inside. I'll be in there in a minute. You and Morgan can go watch TV." You couldn't look away from Steve. Your heart was racing in your chest and it just wouldn't stop. Everything hurt again. Your chest felt tight, and your legs were weak. You had missed him, but you just couldn't just forgive him.

Could you?

The two girls ran inside, leaving the 5 of you standing opposite of each other. Who would make the first move? Who would say the first word?

"So wait, Captain America has a wife and kid?"

And of course the first word would come from Scott Lang.

"If by wife you mean ex-girlfriend, and kid you mean blipped next door neighbors daughter, then yes," you said sarcastically, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "Why are you here? If it's to apologize then you're about five years too late, Steven."

He sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. "Y/N, as much as I want to apologize, explain everything, we're here to talk business. Scott, this is your idea."

And Scott did talk. And talk. And talk. He had insane theories about time travel using some kind of particles… PYM particles? It was completely insane. These ideas, time travel… it was impossible. Right?

But Scott had experienced it while trapped in… in… the quantum realm? That was apparently a real thing. Apparently the past 5 years had taken up 5 hours for him? You couldn't really believe it. It all seemed too good to be true.

"You're insane, spewing theoretical jargon as provable fact to try and bring back everyone. Scott was a fluke on the system. But you forgot something. What about all the births and relationships that have happened in those five years? Even if this was possible, which is a big if, I'd be gambling with Morgan's life. She is my world. So no, I won't play God." Tony looked over at you, raising an eyebrow in question, squeezing your hand firmly. "Y/N?"

"I said I was done, and I meant it." You looked over at Steve to see a jealousy burning in his blue eyes. "I can't lose another battle. I can't play with this family. I've already lost two of the most important things in my life. If I lose Morgan? Or Penny? Or even, god forbid Tony? No. I can't play this game of life or death. We all just… need to move on."

You tugged on Tony's hand, pulling him back to the house, ignoring the calls of your former friends, asking you to come back. You couldn't turn around because you knew that if you did, you would absolutely entertain their ideas. You knew that you would help them figure out, because an adventure was everything you always yearned for. But an adventure could take away everything you had left. Your heart couldn't take it.

It was later that night, and everyone was at Tony's place. Morgan and Penny were sleeping upstairs, and Pepper was showering. But neither you nor Tony could sleep as you worked from his dining room table, toying around with some kind of gps that would work through time, just to see if it was possible. But it was entirely impossible. And you two were certain about it.

So why were you entertaining the idea?

You weren't much help. For as much work as you had done alongside Tony and learned through osmosis, you weren't the best with this kind of stuff. But you were helping as much as possible through throwing out random information that occasionally became pertinent.

But when the prototype actually came back as 99.98% effective? Well, the two of you nearly passed out.

"Well, shit!" Tony exclaimed, leaning back in his chair.

"Shit!"

The two of you turned towards the stairs, seeing a smug smile sitting on Morgan's face. Her body swayed from side to side as she smiled, her bunny slippers pattering up and down in place.

"No!" The two of you said in unison at her, causing her face to scrunch up.

"You can't say that word," you said, wagging a finger at her.

Tony nodded, looking at Morgan with a stern face. "Only mommy can say that word. She coined it, so she owns it." He gave you a wink before looking back at Morgan. You rolled your eyes, a gentle smile sitting on your face. He was such a good dad.

"Well what are you two doing?" she pondered, looking at the prototype model displayed in the air.

"Obviously some important shit!" you said before realizing just what you said. Tony facepalmed and you sighed. "Did your dad say mom? He meant your mom and I. We coined it. Together… Any way, come on Morgoona, let's go have a freezie pop and then it's off to bed for you." You walked to the kitchen with her, grabbing two freeze pops and handing one to her.

Once Morgan was back in bed, you looked at Tony, neither one of you sure what to do with this discovery. Yes, you could bring back so many lives, but you couldn't bargain with Morgan. She was family, Tony's everything. Pepper came down the stairs just then, and she instantly knew something was up. She didn't ask any questions and, instead, went to the dining room table, pulling up Tony's latest document.

"So you figured it out," she remarked, going over the design. You knew she didn't understand the science fully, you barely did. "Time travel, I mean. You know, I think you both should do it. You hung up the cape but you'll never rest easy knowing you could do something but didn't." She glanced over at the two of you, a sad smile on her face. "You should do it. Help them. Under any other circumstance, you would drop everything to do this."

You looked over at Tony and you both knew she was right. You couldn't give up, personal vendettas aside. There was no giving up when you had gotten this far.

And so you weren't going to give up. That next morning, you packed up Tony's car and told Penny that she was going to be staying with Pepper until you came back. You also gave her your phone. If her dad called, you wanted the first voice he heard to be Penny's. They deserved that much.

When you pulled up to the compound, Steve was standing outside. He looked defeated. But when you walked out, holding his shield, his eyes looked hopeful, like things were going to change. And they were.

"We're in. This is yours, by the way." You handed him the shield, immediately stepping away. "Morgan and Penny tried to take it bobsledding, so we had to remove temptation."

"Plus we figured it out. Time travel." Tony handed him the prototype. "A GPS that works through the quantum realm. Should prevent any babies from coming back and going to the bathroom in the suit."

Steve nodded, pulling the both of you into a hug. "Thank you," he said, breathless, holding you both tightly. "Thank you for coming back."

You cautiously wrapped an arm around him, holding him and being washed over in a feeling of nostalgia. You could feel your heart lightening, even if just a little bit. Those 5 years of pain and heartache were slowly melting away as you just stood there, surrounded by two of the people you loved more than anything, even if it hurt.

As you all finally pulled away from the hug, you glanced around. "So, where's the coffee machine?"

----

Next Part

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[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 18

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse, and soon they travel across the galaxy looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 18 - Bad Company

Sinead sat down in the belly of the Razor Crest, turning the Loovrian emblem over and over, as if she just turned it for long enough, it would somehow give her the answer she needed. She should be angry. She wanted to be angry, but all she felt was a numbness, cold and empty as the void that hurtled past outside the ship.

The quiet of the ship was only broken up by the hum from the engine and the occasional sound from the child who slept in his crib.

The emblem was heating up between her fingers. She ran a thumb across one of the force pikes, gnawing at her lip. A small but insistent thought kept popping up, unbidden: what if that little emblem had stayed hidden on Celvalara and they'd never gone to Loovria. Would the trail have gone cold? Would she have kept searching until finally one day she'd just give up? Hand over the whip to Mando for service rendered and just ... stopped?

Her long train of thought was shattered when someone cleared their throat. Mando stood by the ladder to the cockpit, fiddling with his gauntlet. They hadn't talked since Seavo. Her little outburst made her toes curl in embarrassment.

"I, uh ..." his voice was rougher than usual. "I know someone who might have information on Vekkass."

Sinead slipped the emblem into her pocket and sat up straighter. "Who?"

"He's a former ... associate. Works out of a station in the Tammuz sector."

Associate was a carefully neutral word and could really mean anything. Still, it wasn't like they had anything better to go on.

"It's not Guild," he said, interpreting her silence as reluctance. "And we're running low on credits. Ship's nearly out of fuel."

She hadn't even noticed that, too caught up in her own thoughts. "Sure. Why not," she said and let her eyes wander to the sleeping kid, who made a little gurgling sound at the back of his throat.

Mando stayed there, his head slightly tilted to the side like he wanted to say something. The silence stretched out between them, neither one wanting to break it. At last, Mando nodded once and climbed up the ladder, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She pulled out the emblem and started turning it.

... ... ... ... ...

The ship dropped out of hyperspace with a lurch and a dull boom. Straight ahead the space station was a small blinking light amidst the stars, easy to miss unless you knew what you were looking for. Sinead breathed out, her stomach already in knots of nerves.

"You should stay in the ship," Mando said, not taking his eyes off the slowly approaching station.

"Why? I thought you knew these people."

He sighed and was quiet for a couple of seconds. "Ran and I used to work together. A long time ago. He always kept an eye on the underworld."

She leaned further into her seat, trying to dispel the still growing feeling of foreboding. "Let's hope he's kept an eye on this one. And what does he want you to do in return?"

"He said he had a job."

"Right. So why do you want me to hide in the ship."

"It's just ... easier to do it this way. I don't want the kid mixed into all of this."

Sinead looked at the child who sat in his little seat, the Mandalorian doll clamped under one arm. That made sense. If it was up to her, none of them would go anywhere near the station.

"Okay. I'll do it if you keep a comlink on you. I want to know what's going on."

"Fine." The word came out as a sigh. He led her down into the hull and told her to crawl onto the bunk. Once she'd folded her legs on the thin mattress, he placed the kid on her lap.

“I'm pretty sure that if someone looks inside, they're gonna see me."

Mando stepped back and touched a small keypad on the side of the bed, and metal panels slid down with a whir, cutting her off from the rest of the ship. It wasn't a bed. It was a safe room. Only faint light found a way through minuscule cracks along the otherwise solid hatch. She pressed a hand against the cold surface.

"It won't be long." Mando's voice was muffled through the thick barrier. She could hear him return to the cockpit.

The kid looked up at her and babbled softly, his eyes unfathomably deep and much wiser than a small child had any business being.

“Won’t be long,” Sinead mumbled and closed her eyes.

A shudder and creak went through the ship as it touched down on the station. Once Mando had left the ship, Sinead turned on the comlink and held it up to her ear, closing her eyes as if dimming one sense would strengthen another.

“…ando.” A faint voice came through the comlink. “…at you under that bucket?”

“Ran.” Mando sounded guarded.

“…know if I'd ever see you...” The voice kept falling out, and Sinead pressed the comlink harder against her ear, screwing her eyes tightly shut. “…surprised when you reached out to me. You know, cause I … I hear things…between you and the Guild aren't working out.”

She jumped when Mando’s voice exploded out of the comlink.

“I’m not working with the Guild on this one. I need some information.”

“Might be able to help…” there was a long silence where she thought Mando might have turned off the commlink. And then, “…after the job.”

Sinead’s hand clenched into a fist on her thigh. Of course, it would never be that easy. From the snippets heard through the comlink, they were going to need the ship. It was hard following what was happening, but it sounded like Mando was being introduced to the rest of the team. Her heart skipped a beat when one of them turned out to be an ex-Imperial. It wasn’t like she had never associated with criminals, and her past wasn’t squeaky clean either, but the combination of criminal and ex-Imperial sounded like a recipe for disaster.

The more she listened, the more it dawned on her that she didn’t know Mando, not really, even though they had been traveling together for quite some time. She didn't even know his real name. She had never asked him.

“I thought you said you had four,” Mando said.

“He does.” This voice was new, sounding feminine and husky at the same time.

“Xi’an.” Mando sounded guarded.

This Xi’an moved closer, her voice becoming clearer. “Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand?”

Sinead’s hand closed around her blaster until she realized with a sinking feeling that she didn’t know how to get out of there. For some reason, she had allowed someone to lock her in a tiny box without a second thought.

“Nice to see you too,” Mando said in an even voice, proving that she had not cut him down.

Xi’an spoke again, her voice so loud she must have been standing right on top of Mando. “I missed you,” she purred.

Missed Mando?

“This is shiny. You wear it well.”

"Do we need to leave the room or something?" Another voice. Maybe Mayfeld?

"Well, Xi'an's been a little heartbroken since Mando left our group," said Ran.

What?

"Aww. You gonna be okay, sweetheart?"

"I'm all business now. Learned from the best."

"All right, lovebirds. Break it up till you get on the ship. Right now, we don't have much time."

Sinead turned the comlink off just in time before someone made their way into the ship. Every step they took clanged through the ship. It was either a droid or someone wearing shoes with metal soles. She pulled out her blaster and laid it out of reach of the kid but close enough that she could grab it in seconds.

"We sure this thing even flies?" A voice said suddenly, close to the safe room.

"S'worse than I remember," Xi'an said. "Never thought about getting an upgrade, Mando?"

There was a grunt of laughter, which cut off abruptly when the ship started up again. Something heavy moved around just outside the safe room.

"Scared of flying, big guy?" Mayfeld said.

A deep voice rumbled out, "shut it." So that was Burg.

"Will you sit. Down," A female voice ground out. Xi’an.

There was a bang when something slammed against the side of the ship, and then the sound of shuffling feet right outside the safe room. Sinead swallowed thickly.

"Hey, hey, hey," Mayfeld said. "I get it. I'm a little particular about my personal space, too, so let's just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don't have to see our faces anymore.”

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian?”

Mayfeld said, “Well, apparently they're the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

That triggered a tittering of laughter across the hull. Sinead's grip on her blaster tightened until her knuckles were white. 

“Well, you flew with him, Xi'an,” Mayfeld continued, oblivious or indifferent to the tension that Sinead could feel all the way through the thick metal plates. “Is he as good as they say?”

“Ask him about the job on Alzoc III.”

Sinead had thought that Mando wouldn't reply, but to her surprise, he said, "I did what I had to."

Images of what he might have ‘had to’ flashed through her mind.

“Oh, but you liked it. See, I know who you really are.”

“He never takes off the helmet?” Mayfeld asked.

Xi’an squeaked out another laugh. “This is the way,” her voice was a deep mockery of Mando’s. Sinead had to ask him about that later.

“Hmm ... I wonder what you look like under there. Maybe he's a Gungan. Is that why yousa don't wanna show your face? You ever seen his face?”

“A lady ... never tells.”

There was a new, malicious quality to Mayfeld’s voice. “Aw, come on, Mando. We all gotta trust each other here. You gotta show us something. Come on, just lift the helmet up. Come on. Let's all see your eyes.”

Sinead’s heart was pounding.

Burg let out a bark of laughter. “I’ll do it.”

There were sounds of fighting and then—

The safe room opened with a whoosh. Sinead's hand shook as instincts screamed to draw her blaster, and the logical part of her brain screamed that she shouldn't start a firefight with the child on her lap. Logic won out in the end.

A bald human jumped to his feet. "Who the hell are you?" So that was Mayfeld. "Mando, who the hell is she?"

Beside him, a purple-skinned Twi'lek appeared, spinning a throwing knife around her finger and staring intently at the newly revealed Sinead. Two filed canines poked out over her lower lip; it was the first time Sinead had seen a female Twi'lek with filed teeth. "How interesting," she purred. Xi'an. That just left Burg, who turned out to be a huge Devaronian even by Devaronian standards.

Slowly, Sinead got to her feet while holding the child tightly against her chest. Mando had frozen in place, and 

"You get lonely up here, buddy?" Mayfeld looked her up and down, and Sinead wanted to crawl back into the safe room and close it up. She barely managed to repress a recoil.

"I hired the Mandalorian to take me to Neth safely. There are so many unsavory types in the Outer Rim." She didn’t take her eyes off Mayfeld.

The kid made a small sound.

"What is that?" Mayfeld walked closer to get a better look at the child. "Is it like a pet or something?"

"Yeah. Something like that," Mando said quietly. Hands balled into fists at his side, his helmeted face had been trained on Sinead ever since the safe room had opened.

"My, my," Xi'an said, moving across the floor in a fluid motion to stand in Mando's space, tilting her head to look at him through her lashes. "Pets and damsels in distress. Didn’t think you were the type. Has that code of yours made you soft?”

Mando stood silent and still as a statue, the blank helmet an intimidating sight, but Xi'an didn't seem to worry. A smirk spread across her face.

Sinead hadn’t noticed Mayfeld before he was too close and reaching out for the child, a sort of cold curiosity in his eyes. She moved back without thinking, hitting the side of the bunk.

"What, don't wanna let me hold it?" He did not try to take the kid again but kept standing uncomfortably close. "You think I'm gonna hurt it or something?"

You wouldn’t hesitate.

“How do you know he won’t hurt you? He might bite.”

Mayfeld bared his teeth in a smile. Suddenly, his hand shot out and nearly grabbed the child. Both Sinead and Mando flinched, and the hull was filled with laughter.

"Relax," Mayfeld said, finally stepping back. "I'm starting to think you might be hiding something."

Sinead forced herself to breathe slowly, meeting his eyes calmly, coldly.

A disembodied metallic voice filled the hull. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.” The ship shook as it dropped back into the real dimension. Sinead sat down on the bunk, holding tightly on to the kid, who giggled softly in her arms. This was Tatooine all over again.

When it seemed like the ship had evened out, Sinead got to her feet again.

“Commencing final approach. Now. Cloaking signal. Now.”

Without further warning, the ship flipped sideways. It felt like the gravity generator had malfunctioned. Sinead was lifted off her feet, weightless for a moment, before she was slammed into the side of the ship with a bruising force, biting her tongue in the process.

"Engaging coupling. Now." 

The ship swerved one last time before landing on a solid surface, the resulting boom more felt than heard.

"Coupling confirmed. We are down. And relax."

Sinead unfurled from her awkward fetal position that had saved the kid from being thrown clean across the hull and stood. Her shoulder, the one that got acquainted with the metal wall, throbbed. She looked up to see Mando watching her, giving her a single inconspicuous nod.

"Commence extraction. Now."

Xi'an got to her feet with a snarl. "That useless droid didn't even give us a proper countdown!"

Burg threw two crates across the floor with a grunt. The kid jumped when they crashed to the ground, and she bit her already bleeding tongue hard not to snap at the Devaronian.

"Zee," Mayfeld called up to the cockpit, "you sure they can't see us?"

The voice warbled out again, "the Razor Crest is scrambling our signature, and I'm inside the prison system. It's impressive that this gunship has survived the Empire without being impounded."

They were breaking into a prison? Sinead let out a long breath and stared hard at Mando, who once again was an impregnable statue. Before Sinead could ask, he was called away to hack the hatch to the prison. She hadn't felt the telltale rumble of the ship going through the atmosphere, which meant they were still in space. 

Xi'an bounced lightly on the balls of her feet while watching Mando work. Her dark eyes glittered in the sudden light when the hatch opened to a sterile white hallway that seemed blinding in the perpetual dimly lit Crest.

One after one, the temporary crew dropped through the hatch until only Mando was left. He turned towards her. "Keep an eye on the droid." His voice was low and tight. "Don't let it see the kid. This is a New Republic prison transport, be ready to leave in a hurry."

"Be careful." It came out as an awkward croak and she shifted the child to another arm to avoid his eyes.

Mando climbed down the hatch, and Sinead closed her eyes for a second before placing the kid in the safe room. "You'll be safer in there," she whispered to the little guy. His ears lifted, which she took as a sign of understanding and pressed the button to shut the safe room tight.

It was strange seeing a droid in Mando's seat, watching the monitor with the kind of rapt yet detached attention that only a droid could have. She recognized it as a protocol droid, made to translate and serve. It had no inbuilt weapons, which explained the blaster rifle leaning against the chair. 

The droid turned when she appeared in the doorway. “You are not supposed to be here.”

Sinead didn’t bat an eye at the droid’s lack of manners; having spent any time in the Outer Rim, it wasn’t the first droid with wonky programming she’d met. “And yet here I am.”

The droid stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time before turning wordlessly back to the screen.

She stood behind it, watching the four red dots make their way through the facility. The droid guided them down corridors towards the control room, all the while completely ignoring her presence.

This was the second time in a very short period that Sinead had sat useless in the ship, trying to piece together what was happening from scratchy soundbites and the jumbled screen. It was clear that everything did not go according to plan. 

"It seems your presence has been detected. Redirecting security alert away from your position," the droid said as the screen flashed red.

Sinead grabbed the back of the pilot chair so hard the metal cut into her hand.

“Zee, open the door!” came Mayfeld’s voice through the commlink.

“I'm detecting an organic signature,” the droid said. A fifth red dot had appeared on the screen.

“Yeah, okay, all right. Just open the door!”

A new wave of uselessness wrenched her gut as she stood there listening to Mando trying to talk a lone guard down. It was hard to parse what happened precisely, but the end was all too clear: the guard died, and with that shit hit the fan.

"Idiots," Sinead hissed between her teeth, watching the screen with unblinking eyes as if she could somehow reach in and smack whoever was responsible for bringing down the New Republic on their heads. There was a big difference between a jailbreak and a jailbreak that left a corpse behind.

An alarm blared through the ship, making Sinead jump.

The droid adjusted its scomp link, and the alarm fell silent.

"Zero to Mayfeld. Zero to Mayfeld," it droned. "I detected a New Republic distress signal homing in on your location. You have approximately 20 minutes."

Was that really enough time to get out of there? A million scenarios whirled through her head, adding to the feeling of dread that followed her like a shadow.

Zero suddenly rose from the pilot seat, and Sinead took a step back, giving the bug-eyed droid a guarded look. “What are you-“

It swung its metal arm at her face.

She reacted instinctively, throwing up a hand to catch it. The force knocked her off her feet; she landed on the floor with a loud thud, letting out a sharp cry as her bruised shoulder was wrenched into an unnatural angle.

Sinead let out a feral snarl, trying to get to her feet while pushing Zero away. The droid pushed her down with strength it shouldn't have possessed.

"Do not resist," it said in its calm, metallic voice. A hand came out of nowhere and whacked her on the head.

Ears ringing, head throbbing, she flailed blindly against it.

Zero's vice-like grip closed around her wrists, and she kicked against it, screaming, spitting. Before she could wriggle away, he wrapped a thin binding wire around her wrists and fastened it to a metal bar under the seat.

“Fuck you!” She kicked wildly, trying to trip the droid, do something, but he ignored her, taking her blaster and sitting back in the pilot seat.

The droid ignored her. There was a whirring sound when it turned its scomp link, and a translucent figure appeared above the dashboard. The blue light reflected on Zero’s metal body, and Sinead lifted her head to see the recording.

"M-Man-M-Mando-o-o." The projection flickered and skipped, the image stretching in strange contortions. Sinead didn't recognize the human, but something told her he was bad news. "Mando, I received-received your tra-transmission. U-upon your return, deliver-liver the quarry directly to the client."

Cold dread washed over Sinead, wrenching a hollow gasp from her chest.

"Interesting," Zero turned off the transmission.

"No." It took a second for Sinead to realize she had said it out loud. Her voice shook. "If you touch a single hair on his head, I'll-"

Mayfeld's voice filled the cockpit. "Zero, we got Qin. Mando's done."

Done? As in …

"I found some information on the Mandalorian from the Bounty Hunters' Guild," the droid said.

With renewed energy, Sinead tried getting free, but the thin wire held, cutting a red line into her wrist; the pain was dulled by fear and adrenaline. The edges of her vision blurred.

"Yeah yeah, do whatever. Just get us off this ship."

"I have neutralized the human. What shall I do with her?"

"I don't give a shit, Zee! Shoot her in the fucking head, just get rid of her!"

The droid turned and looked at her. "Affirmative. You have 10 minutes remaining."

Zero stood, pulling its blaster rifle with a fluid, mechanical motion. It stepped around the pilot seat and towered above her.

The rifle clicked, loud as a cannon.

Everything faded into shadow, even the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

She closed her eyes.

Nothing happened.

After an eternity, she chanced a peek.

The monitor was trilling a steady stream of beeps. Zero had moved back to the pilot seat.

The world screeched to a halt. She released a shuttering breath.

"Zero to Mayfeld," the droid said. "You have a potential problem. He has escaped."

At first, Sinead didn't believe her own ears. He had escaped? Mando wasn't dead?

A hysterical giggle bubbled to the surface, and she shook with adrenaline. They were so fucked.

Relief soured into cold fear when the child appeared in the doorway, tilting his head with a curious stare. He seemed impossibly small standing alone on the floor.

Go! Sinead mouthed, trying to nudge him back with her foot.

Zero hadn't noticed him. "Zero to Mayfeld. Mayfeld, do you copy?" White noise came from the comm, and the monitor faded into static. "It seems comms are no longer functioning, therefore, you cannot hear me. You are on your own."

Please, go! If she thought it loud enough, maybe the kid would hear it.

He did not. Instead, he smiled toothily at Sinead and cooed softly. Her heart stopped when Zero turned around.

"Curious," it said in its flat voice, turning to grab its rifle that lay across the dashboard.

"No!" The scream ripped from Sinead's mouth. The edge of her vision blackened until there was only the droid.

Zero stood and froze. Sinead craned her neck back to see that the child had disappeared back into the ship, and she let out a shuddering breath. Zero stepped over her and jumped down the hatch, leaving her alone in the cockpit.

Frantically, she started pulling with all her might, the wire biting farther into her skin.

She looked around, blinking sweat out of her eyes, searching for something, anything, that could help, when her eyes fell on a small black instrument lying on the console—a fusing pen.

A dull thud rose from the hull and spurred her into action; rolling onto her shoulder with a grunt, she contorted her body in ways it wasn't meant to do. Tears welled up in her eyes as her muscles spasmed. It felt like she was being torn in two.

Her flailing foot caught the instrument, and it clattered to the ground. Rolling onto her side, she pushed it closer until she could grab it from the floor with her mouth, finally dropping it into her waiting hand.

The pen came to life, and she nearly dropped it as it burned through the wire, leaving circular burns on her wrist.

The binding wire fell away and with it every last coherent thought in Sinead's brain. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled out of the cockpit, shoulders heaving with every pant. Numbly, she grabbed a warped length of pipe forgotten on the floor and dropped into the hull.

The safe room opened just as her feet hit the ground. Time slowed.

She swung the pipe with both hands, and the droid’s bulbous eyes exploded in a shower of glass, knocking it to the ground.

It raised its hand. "Do not-"

She brought the pipe down, again and again. A strangled scream tore from her chest as she smashed through the metal shell, exposing wires and circuitry. Foul-smelling oil leaked onto the floor.

A burst of sparks crawled up the droid's broken body, and with that, its lights went out.

The pipe slid out of her hands and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

Mando was watching her silently, standing by the open hatch. After a long moment, he took a deep breath.

The floor spun. With every breath Sinead’s shoulders heaved like she had run a marathon.

A slight babble broke the silence. The kid watched her, head tilted to the side, ears lifted in earnest curiosity.

"It's okay." She picked him up with hands that still shook. "It's over." It was more for her benefit than his.

Someone hoisted themselves into the ship from the hatch and stood, a Twi'lek male with the same purple skin. He was built like a tank, his barrel-like chest seeming larger under a dirty tank top. "Can't say I missed this hunk of junk." His voice was like sandpaper, and when his eyes fell on Sinead and the broken husk of Zero, he flashed a pointy-toothed smile.

"Where's the others?" Her voice was surprisingly even, considering her entire body still strummed with adrenaline.

"Later," Mando ground out. He lifted the child out of her arms, never turning his back on the Twi’lek, whose, Sinead realized, hands were bound with thick durasteel manacles. She touched her wrist where the binding wire had cut deep into the soft skin.

"Keep an eye on him," Mando said in a low voice. "Do not trust him."

She nodded once, feeling the aftereffects of the adrenaline start to kick in. Her legs felt weak, and every sound was dulled but somehow still echoed in her head.

Mando and the child disappeared up the ladder, and the ship broke off from the transport. Sinead picked up Zero’s blaster rifle and propped it against her leg.

"So you hate droids just as much as old Mando up there?" He said, looking pointedly at the jagged metal remains of Zero.

She stared at him.

He narrowed his eyes. "What was that little green thing? Didn't look like nothing I've seen before."

“Pet.”

"You're almost as talkative as Mando." He leaned his head back against the fall, still not taking his eyes off her. "Wanna know how I ended up rotting on a prison transport."

"Guess you're gonna tell me either way."

The Twi'lek bared his pointed teeth in a grin. "Mando up there-" he pointed upwards with his bound hands- "left me behind to get picked up by those kriffin' New Republic bastards. Threw me in a cage without even a proper trial. Now he's left my only sister to the same fate. That ain't right." He didn't seem too torn up about it. "That's what Mando does. He leaves people behind."

"Everyone has their reasons."

The Twi'lek's eyes darkened. "He has his code, always do the job. Load of shit."

The ship exited hyperspace, and Sinead breathed a sigh of relief. Nauseating pain radiated through her head, and she wanted this stranger off the ship.

The Crest landed, and Mando jumped down the ladder without the child. Sinead watched with mistrustful eyes as Mando freed the Twi'lek, who made a show of rubbing his wrists once the bindings fell away.

The ramp came down and revealed a human man with unruly grey hair and beard. His beady eyes narrowed when he spotted Sinead leaning against the opening.

When the Twi'lek saw Ran, he let out a gruff laugh and sauntered down the ramp. Mando followed behind him, walking stiffly like he was a spring ready to be released, and Sinead imagined him scanning the hangar for danger.

"Where are the others?" Asked Ran, scanning the ship as if he expected the rest of the crew to come running down the ramp.

"No questions asked. That's the policy, right?"

Ran bared his teeth, more sneer than smirk. "Yeah. That is the policy."

"I did the job."

"Yeah, you did," Ran said, pulling out a pouch with deliberate slowness and throwing it to Mando, who caught it easily.

"And the information you promised me?"

"What's he talking about?" The Twi'lek said.

Ran's eyes flickered to Sinead. "Since you got Qin and left the team behind, I figure it's fair you only get half the reward."

The Twi'lek sniggered.

"Ran ..." Mando's stance shifted slightly, hand inching towards his blaster. Sinead pushed off the wall, leaning back to eye the blaster rifle propped up against the bed.

"Mando." Ran's voice was even. They stared at each other for a moment, neither moving a muscle.

Mando's hand's curled into fists, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to deck Ran. Instead, he turned and stalked up the ramp.

Anger flashed through Sinead’s system. They'd all nearly been killed and it had all for nothing.

"Mando!"

He stopped and slowly turned.

"The fella you're looking for. Dunno where he is, but I heard some of his crew hangs around Alpha on Zessol. Might wanna check it out."

Mando was silent for a moment before giving him a curt nod, still moving backwards into the ship. When he was inside, Sinead pressed the button to close the ramp.

"Zessol, huh?" Sinead had heard stories about Alpha, an old space station hovering above the planet, but she had never been there herself. Complicated emotions swirled in her chest. "You ever been there?"

But Mando had disappeared. As soon as the ramp closed, he had hurried up the ladder and was already starting the ship when Sinead entered the cockpit. It wobbled as it rose and floated towards the exit.

Sinead sat down in the same chair she'd been bound to what felt like ages ago and drummed her hands on her thighs. "You think they’ll try something?"

"Yep," Mando said, activating the thrusters while the ship was still a bit too close to the station.

"And what are you gonna do about it?"

"Left a tracking beacon on Qin."

Three fighters dropped out of hyperspace in front of the Crest. Sinead's stomach flipped as the ship dove to avoid a collision. She smiled for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "Wanna stay and watch the show?"

Mando replied by jumpstarting the ship into hyperspace, the sheer force making the metal creak. "Zessol is on the other side of the galaxy. It'll take days to get there."

"I guess." Sinead reached over and grabbed the child's hand, pulling his attention from the swirling mist right outside the window. "Would've been nice to see, though."

Mando hummed in response.

The child nearly fell from his seat as he tried to climb across Sinead’s arm. She pulled him onto her lap, letting him play with the end of her frazzled braid.

"What did you do to the others?"

"Left them in a cell. Let the New Republic deal with it."

"Because they’re so good at that." She thought back to the slave ring on Loovria, operating right under the New Republic's nose.

Mando grunted, and they both fell silent. The navicomputer calculating the fastest route. 83 standard hours before they would arrive at Zessol. 83 hours until she got some answers. A hard ball of nauseating fear formed deep in her stomach. 83 hours.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x oc #mando x oc #din x oc #din djarin x oc #fanfiction #ends of the earth #oc: sinead

[littlepurinsesu]

V Watches MagiReco - Episode 8 Review

*Spoilers for Magia Record Anime Episode 8*

Okay, I was not expecting to enjoy this week’s episode as much as I did! :O From the anime’s pattern so far, I was fully expecting a slower episode with less action as they introduced the next main character (in this case Sana), but this episode had a lot of deviations from the game that did a lot of good, in my opinion!

Lots of positive things to say again for this review ^0^ And no, it’s not just because of that Kanagi “cameo” (even though there WILL be at least one paragraph of me screaming about that LOL you have been warned) xD

I think the slower pace of this episode gave us a really good chance to see how the main characters have adjusted and truly integrated themselves into their new lives. We see Iroha starting at her new school, Felicia starting her part-time job at Banbanzai, Tsuruno visiting to deliver bento boxes for Iroha and the two going to school together... so many small details that seem unimportant to the plot but really give us a good picture of the characters’ new lives and relationships. And that’s really important stuff. They seem to have taken a longer time and really drew out the introduction of this new Rumour rather than immediately rushing into the next one, and this gives the main cast some room to breathe and just be themselves, and also gives the audience a sense of some time having passed as well.

It was also really nice to see Rena back! Seems strange to me that Momoko wasn’t with her, but I was starting to worry that Momoko’s team would be forgotten and pushed to the background, so I was quite pleased to see them still popping up every now and then. The episode also gave us some quality Iroha and Rena bonding, which is kind of bittersweet when you consider that both of them either don’t have friends or always find themselves somehow isolated from the crowd. Rena is still a prickly little tsundere, but seeing her waiting for Iroha and giving her more information and talking with her really put a smile on my face :) I really want Rena and Iroha to be able to make more friends, and it’s super cute when the new friends are none other than each other ^^

Also, the thing about Kaede is really interesting. I’m sure this is an anime-original plot point, but I’m wondering how this is going to tie in with Sana’s arc, or any other part of the Main Story. Rena confirms that Kaede hasn’t actually disappeared; she still comes to school, but rushes home immediately after and doesn’t talk or reply to anyone. We also see her at home with all her plants at the beginning (cute!). I’m guessing she’s still traumatised from that Doppel experience and hasn’t figured out what’s going on, so is too afraid of getting close to her friends in fear of hurting them? Whatever they’re planning, I hope it has some relevance to that post-credits scene in episode 5 so we get some closure to what actually happened and the scene won’t seem so “cool but random” lmao.

Alright imma get this out of the way. (Feel free to skip this paragraph if you’re not interested in hearing me gush about my queen.) K A N A G I I Z U M I. If anyone reading this has been following my past MagiReco posts or knows anything about me at all, you’ll know that I’m absolute trash for Kanagi Izumi xD My best girl may be Iroha, but Kanagi is a character I really admire, respect, and adore. Anyway, I saw the official MagiReco Twitter account post about a Kanagi rate-up banner and was hella confused but excited because my queen was not supposed to appear until... at least until Tsuruno is captured by the Magius and Felicia and Sana have returned. So I guess it makes sense that it was in the form of a “mysterious person on the phone” rather than an actual debut, but gosh as soon as I heard her voice I almost lost it AHHHHHHHHHH （♥>ｏ<♥） This eases any fears I had of her being cut from the anime (I would have hunted down the studio if they made that decision LOL); not only is she not gonna be cut, but they gave her a surprise, mysterious, early introduction, too?!?!? YASSSSS (ᗒᗨᗕ)

Yachiyo’s phonecall with Kanagi is a surprising change to make because Kanagi’s presence is really “not very relevant” at this point, but I guess they really wanted to show how big the Wings of Magius' influence is. As Kanagi says, they’ve taken most of the girls from the East by now. I’m wondering what anime-onlys would feel about this scene, since they probably have no idea who Yachiyo is talking to. If anything, it would probably add to the mystery surrounding Yachiyo (which I hope the anime goes into soon). I was a little conflicted at first because I really wanted Yachiyo’s first contact with Kanagi to seem like a “we haven’t spoken in ages but desperate times call for desperate measures” kind of thing, because with this scene, the next time they "openly” contact her won’t have that same impact. But then the more I think about it, the more I think this might actually be for the better. Kanagi’s introduction into the cast won’t feel like such a “random” thing (like, “oh wait, who are you and since when were you so important?”); Yachiyo has been in some degree of contact with her and she was “there" all along. So yeah, a good change in retrospect, and I’m never gonna say no to seeing (or hearing) more of Kanagi so I’m all for this change either way LOL

Okay enough rambling about Kanagi (OTL I’m so sorry). Felicia working at Banbanzai is just SO CUTE!!! She’s like a cute little gangster omg those glares and “HUHHH?!?!?” (I’d be scared too, Iroha) xD I think the character that’s gotten the best portrayal in the anime so far really is Felicia. And also the reveal that the reason for her getting into a fight and being sent to the police station was because she was defending Yachiyo and Iroha? CUTEEE OMG I LOVE THIS CHILD!!! She also has a really good sense of fashion hehe :D

The little snippet in there with Ui, Touka, and Nemu may seem a little out of place, but I was actually quite relieved to see them. Every week the anime is throwing new characters at its viewers, so I was worried that anime-only viewers wouldn’t even remember who Touka and Nemu are when they’re eventually revealed to be the Magius. I think it’s good to keep drilling them into viewers’ minds so as not to lose that “OMGGG” factor when they make their proper debut. Also it’s adorable how Ui throws teddy bears in their faces to stop them from arguing LOLLL

The radio show was a really good way to not only sneak in tiny “cameos” of other girls (I think it was Rika and Kanoko this week), but also give a nice picture of life in Kamihama. There’s a sense that Iroha really is a part of this city now, and it’s such a nice feeling to see everything “falling into place;” we’re no longer in those inconsistent and uncertain “introductory” episodes anymore, even though we still have one more major character to bring in. And the laughter coming from the phone is super creepy--cute, but in a really creepy way. All the illustrations for when they were talking about the Rumours this week were also really, really well-done. I have nothing much to say about them except “sasuga Inucurry” haha xD

I really was expecting Madoka and Homura to appear this week, but I guess we may have to wait a little bit more for that >_< BUT Tsukuyo did appear again in her “civilian” form! Iroha chasing her into that building was also a really nice change the anime made; some things really need to be animated for full impact, and I’m loving these minor changes and how much more they add to the characters and atmosphere! Anyway, Tsukuyo seems a lot more menacing here compared to her dine-and-dash incident in the game lmaooo, and I wasn’t expecting a Witch battle!

Speaking of Witch battle, I think this might be one of my main letdowns with this episode: I just really want to see Iroha fight more. I appreciate that she’s proactive in seeking answers and brave enough to jump into these situations despite knowing that she’s weak, but she hasn’t really contributed much in battles so far except a few Connects and using her Doppel. I want to see my girl Iroha go all-out and kick ass with her arrows!!! But it was nice to see the rest of Team Mikazuki showing up so quickly; there’s a real sense of them being an actual team now, and they’ve always got each other’s backs! It would have been nice if the rest of the team got to fight as well rather than Yachiyo taking all the spotlight, but at least Yachiyo was super cool haha (as usual). But the battle clearly isn’t the point of this episode, so I won’t pick on it too much :)

By the way, that Mami appearance was super random. When I saw the ribbons and flowers, I almost thought she was going to appear as Holy Mami for a second. At least we know she hasn’t lost her head just yet ;) The appearance was random, but from what they offered, at least we know that Mami is still either in Kamihama or coming to Kamihama regularly to investigate, and while she was suspicious of Iroha in the past, she went out of her way to help her this time, which was a nice touch.

Anyway, now that Iroha has finally replied to the mysterious messages, we might really get to meet Sana (and Ai-chan) next time! Maybe Madoka and Homura, too! But yeah, this episode is a prime example of one where not much seems to happen, but a lot actually does happen and there’s plenty to pull apart and discuss when you really think back on it. Clearly Kanagi took half my attention and feels this week, but I’m definitely having lots of warm and fuzzies seeing Team Mikazuki doing normal, everyday things together. Seeing Felicia added to the OP was expected but still a treat (the way she bobs around on the spot is SO CUTE!), and I can’t wait for the family to finally be fully formed!

(Also, Yachiyo looks gorgeous in anything she wears, seriously.)

#magia record #magireco #puella magi madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica side story #pmmm #fandom #mine #anime #review #magia record review #v watches magireco

[cheshiresense]

Just a thing I wrote up over on discord and thought I’d post here too. It’s basically a long rambling summary of one of the many headcanons i have for KHR.

I’m too lazy to copy/paste the pinglist and technically this isn’t a fic snippet anyway.

AU with Mare!Tsuna, Arcobaleno!Byakuran, and Vongola!Yuni

In which Tsuna's the one who goes off the deep end and takes over the world. And unlike Byakuran, he succeeds. Where Byakuran used strength in numbers and overwhelming power and all the information he could gather from his alternate universe selves but was ultimately utterly alone, Tsuna has always dealt in kindness, and that's no different in a world where he embodies the Mare Sky.

In this verse, I sort of want their situations to be the same, just with Yuni/Byakuran/Tsuna switching places. So Yuni grows up with her Flames sealed, she has a better time of it than Tsuna because she's a girl, and most boys aren't quite ass ready to hit her, but girls can be equally vicious without ever throwing a fist, and Yuni stands out far too much with the way she trips over everything and is average at best in her schoolwork and looks too foreign in a small-town Japanese school. She grows up alone and lonely with a distant mother, and even when Reborn crashes into her life, things don't get much better. Her new friends don't really listen to her, half of them have known her their entire lives in Namimori and all of them only like her now because she can give them excitement and adventure and reputation just by associating with her (why does nobody see the death and violence?). She can't say she likes fighting either, not the way literally all her "Guardians" seem to, but it's not like she has a choice in the matter, not when Reborn is there, gun in hand and her whole life mapped out for her. So she does what she's told to the best of her ability, as she's done her entire life - she fights the enemies dumped in her lap, everyone from school rivals to the professional assassins, all wanting to hurt her or kill her for their own reasons, and some part of her laments the fact that she finds Mukuro of all people the most relatable. She doesn't think she can hate the mafia as much as he does because she hasn't lived his life, but she hates that she has no choice in the life that's been dictated for her, and that at least is a little like the cage Mukuro grew up in. She admires him too, the way he broke out of that cage with his own strength, although of course she doesn't say that within her tutor's hearing range. Reborn already disapproves of her too-soft heart.

Byakuran is old. He has been the Sky Arcobaleno for almost two generations now, the most powerful one in living memory. He lost his first set of guardians to time and Checkerface and the greater good. He refused to care about the second set gathered for him, and now the other Arcobaleno live their own lives, as freelancers and hitmen and assassins, all resentful of Byakuran and fearful of the day their life energy sputters out and Checkerface comes to collect. Byakuran does the same, more or less, although he lost his fear of Checkerface approximately a lifetime and a half ago. His end will come when it comes, although with the way his Flames still burn bright inside him, it's possible he might even see a third generation before his usefulness comes to an end. So he wanders the world on his own whims, taking hits here and there when the fancy strikes or when he needs some extra money, but never settling in one place.

(Some part of him is honestly just waiting to die, and he knows it. He's old and bored and any energy he had left to spare for raging at the sheer unfairness of his lot in life fizzled out a long time ago. He's resigned nowadays, because nothing he's ever tried and nobody he's ever talked to has been able to help him break the Curse. The simple truth of it is that he's given up, and the only reason he hasn't taken his own life yet is because the Pacifier won't let him.)

So he wanders and waits, caring for nothing and no one, alone.

And Tsuna. Tsuna sees it all. He sees all the other universes where Byakuran possessed the Mare Sky Ring and went mad with it and ultimately failed to take over the world. He sees all those other Yunis who inherited the Arcobaleno Sky Pacifier and came too late despite being part of their generation's Tri-Ni-Sette. He sees himself, so many variations who all descended from Vongola, beaten down and pieced back together into the perfect mafia boss, his own wishes ignored and denied and forgotten by friends and foes alike until even he himself settled meekly into the role that Vongola demanded of him.

And of course he sees his own world. He sees a Yuni, tired and downtrodden and so lonely it aches, even when she's standing in the middle of a room full of people all arguing and laughing and screaming over anything she has to say, with Reborn hovering by her side and constantly crushing her spirit over and over because the Vongola doesn't need a boss with opinions of her own, who won't lead the Family the way they think it should be led.

He sees Byakuran too, tiny and too-young and too-old at the same time, never putting down roots anywhere for fear of growing attached, just as tired and just as lonely, with Guardians who spurn him and an underworld that regards him as something not even quite human anymore and so avoid him just as much as he avoids them.

And he sees the mafia, a cesspit of violence and betrayal and murder, entrenched in crime and greed and hatred, never changing, never wanting to change, generation after generation of blood-drenched sins.

Tsuna sees it all and thinks, I could do better.

Because unlike Byakuran who wanted power enough to reshape the world into something that would interest him, or even Yuni who was taught to preserve the greater good, Tsuna deals in kindness. He looks at the mafia with more than a little disgust, and if he wants to change it, he needs the power of the Tri-Ni-Sette to make the world his own.

But people and emotions are what he understands best, so that's what he uses. Because when he sees his universe's Byakuran and Yuni, the other pillars of the Tri-Ni-Sette, he doesn't see obstacles or enemies or even weaknesses. He sees them for their strengths, for the Sky Flames that burn so fiercely in both of them, power enough to rival his own, but also too, he sees what they desperately want - someone to understand them, someone to fight for them, someone that would belong to them, and someone whom they might belong to in return because their Sky Flames reach out and grasp nothing, because the Flame potentials around them are piss-poor replacements for real bonds, scattered and too self-absorbed and largely unsuitable for two of the world's most powerful Skies.

But Tsuna. Tsuna is lonely too, in his own way, his head filled with too many possibilities, of pasts and presents and futures that might never be. He's seen enough to know that Yuni and Byakuran are his, because they are three parts of a whole, and he refuses to live in a world where the three of them are treated like puppets in a show, each playing a part like there's no other choice.

Byakuran failed because he was alone, is the conclusion Tsuna comes to. But he won't make the same mistake, because he deals in kindness, and so he gives them what they want.

He bumps into Yuni one day when she's exhausted and filthy from a training session that was more a beating than anything educational because the seal still has its claws in her and she didn't spar to Reborn's standards today. Sasagawa's run off somewhere to be extreme, Lambo's at home with her mother, and Gokudera and Yamamoto are probably still duking it out several blocks back. Reborn's ordered her to return home before seven or she would have an extra three sets of suicides tomorrow morning, but Yuni can't even stand without her leg muscles spasming.

And then Tsuna is there, asking if she's alright, helping her to a bench and running to get her some water and a snack. He doesn't push about why she's in such a state, only introducing himself and sitting with her while she recovers and walking her home to make sure she gets there alright. They part ways, and somehow, Yuni misses him already. She thinks it's because it's the first time in her life that someone just sat with her and engaged her in normal conversation and cared about her, even if it was just basic human decency (and it says a lot about her life that she hasn't even experienced that much until now). She's dismayed that she didn't even ask for his number or at least where he goes to school, but that might be a step too far into creepy. She's forced to put him out of her mind when she steps into the house and almost gets nailed with one of Lambo's grenades, who's pitching a fit because Reborn promised him that Yuni would buy him grape candy. Bianchi sweeps past her with a disdainful sniff as she proceeds to fawn over Reborn, and she finds Yamamoto and Gokudera already parked in her house, Gokudera immediately heaping praise on her for completing that day's training ("As expected of Jyuudaime!") before rounding on Yamamoto again when the other boy makes a flippant comment.

The day ends with bruises and broken windows and more than one disparaging sigh from Reborn about how Dame-Yuni couldn't even control her own subordinates, and  for just a moment, lying in bed and comparing her Family to the way Tsuna wrapped her sprained wrist earlier with such gentle hands, Yuni hates every last one of them with a visceral intensity that threatens to burst out of her and leap for the closest throat.

Then she turns over and tries not to think at all, because she has to get up early tomorrow or she'll end up with first-degree burns from Reborn's wake-up call.

She doesn't expect to see Tsuna again but...

But she does. Apparently, Tsuna attends the private high school across town, and he swings by her area again just to make sure she's okay. Yuni finds it sweet, and she's simultaneously pleased and guilty for feeling pleased that Tsuna only pays attention to her, doesn't let Gokudera's offensive posturing get to him, doesn't even glance at Haru's blushing and cow eyes. Tsuna seeks her out a few more times before Yuni timidly asks for his phone number ("Um, just to keep in touch so you won't have to run all the way here all the time!"), beaming when Tsuna smiles and enters it into her phone.

Reborn watches the boy with narrowed eyes, and Yuni knows he's probably running multiple background checks on her new friend, but apparently Tsuna passes muster because the hitman only remarks, "Well, you'll need to learn how to charm powerful men one day, Dame-Yuni. You can practice seducing a civilian first."

Even as she turns red, Yuni hates him for that implication alone, because Tsuna doesn't deserve to be relegated to some tool for her to "practice" on. She says nothing of course, because arguing with Reborn is an exercise in futility, and she's just glad she can hang out with Tsuna without dragging him into mafia business. All her Guardian slots are filled, and at least for now, Reborn seems content with her lineup without adding more to it.

Meanwhile, Byakuran arrives in Namimori. He doesn't have the Vongola's famed Intuition of course, but sometimes his Sky Flames do give him a nudge, and even rarer sometimes, he listens just to sate his vague sense of curiosity. This is one of those times. Besides, he knows Reborn is training the next Vongola Decima here, and irritating reborn is always fun. The hitman's good but he's never been able to lay a finger on Byakuran, partly because no matter how reluctant, the Sun still belongs to Byakuran's Sky even if the connection is thread-thin, and partly because Byakuran is just better.

So he enters Namimori and goes about getting himself acquainted with the town. He's never been here before, and he's delighted to find a very delicious sweets cafe with quite a few selections of marshmallow confectioneries.

Tsuna already knows he's there. He lets himself be seen at one of the outdoor tables of the cafe and doesn't bother hiding what he is because there's no hiding from a fellow Tri-Ni-Sette Sky when they know what they're looking at, and Byakuran definitely knows. There's a moment of indecision when Byakuran looks like he might leave, but then an easy smirk curves across his baby face, and he makes his way over to Tsuna's table instead.

"Now this is a surprise," Byakuran says once he's hopped up onto the table. "I didn't expect to find the Mare Sky in Namimori."

Tsuna smiles back guilelessly. "And I didn't expect to meet the Arcobaleno Sky so I guess we're even." He shrugs. "I go to school here so it's not so weird."

They stare at each other for a minute, and Byakuran's gaze is particularly piercing despite being set in the face of a toddler, but Tsuna is arguably just as old if not older, with all the timelines running through his head, and so he doesn't let his own gaze waver even as he digs into his cake.

They get to talking. Byakuran's not even aware of how late it's gotten until the waiters are clearing their throats nearby and the sun is almost completely set.  The two of them exchanged a few more lines of pleasantry before Tsuna asked about his travels, "because I want to see the world one day too of course!", and before he knew it, Byakuran's described Venice and Rome and parts of Singapore and Australia. He doesn't say anything incriminating, mostly detailing the sights and some of the culture, but he also relaxes and enjoys himself for the first time in years, and - after they say goodbye and go their separate ways and Tsuna waves and tells him he enjoyed spending the afternoon with him, with an honesty that couldn't be faked - Byakuran is the first person who looks at Tsuna and thinks, this boy is dangerous.

(That doesn't stop him from seeking Tsuna out again and again, and much later, looking back, he'll think with some amusement that he was never going to end up anywhere but at Tsuna's side. He’d already lost - for a certain measure of losing -  from the moment they first met.)

They meet up a few more times, and then one day, Tsuna brings Yuni along. They're on a "date" - not really, but Yamamoto laughed and Gokudera frothed at the mouth, and Reborn smirked and ordered her to practice her "feminine wiles", so here they are, taking a seat at her favourite dessert shop in town. It isn't a coincidence at all that Byakuran is also there, and Yuni feels something inside her slot into place the moment she not only lays eyes on Byakuran but also sees him drop comfortably onto Tsuna's shoulder like he belongs there. Like the two of them belong together. And like they belong here with her.

She doesn't understand it of course, and she doesn't know enough to ask. Introductions are made, and Yuni is shy at first, and more than a little wary because Byakuran's clearly a not-baby like Reborn. But Byakuran talks to her instead of at her, he doesn't wave weapons at her or inexplicably drag her into a mafia problem, and he has a sly sense of humour that makes her laugh. She's suddenly very aware that Tsuna apparently is mafia after all, or at least related in some way, but he's never lied to her about it, never said he wasn't, and in the end, Yuni decides to just accept it and enjoy what little freedom she's managed to find with both of them here.

By the time they get up to go their separate ways again, Byakuran's fox smiles reach all the way to his eyes, Yuni's slightly out of breath because she chatters more when she's happy and unafraid, and Tsuna watches them both with possessive eyes, wondering if it's about time to enact the next part of his plan.

FUTURE ARC HERE WE COME

The ten-year bazooka catches first Yuni and then Byakuran, and an assortment of their respective guardians/friends in-between. They're transported to a ten-year-later alternate universe where Vongola and its allies - including the Arcobaleno - are fighting against Tsuna and the Gesso and his allies.

(This is an alternate universe where Yuni and Byakuran never really met Tsuna under any circumstances but as enemies. This is an alternate universe where Byakuran cares for nothing and no one but himself, and Yuni broke under the weight of Vongola's expectations. This is an alternate universe where Tsuna is alone.)

Yuni is horrified. She doesn't know how or why even a parallel older version of herself would declare all-out war on a friend, or vice-versa. She doesn't know what brought them to this point. If she's honest, she doesn't even know what she's supposed to be fighting for, and nobody seems to be able to give her a good enough reason, because - before they're replaced by their younger alternate selves - her parallel older version Guardians tell her that they're fighting for Vongola's survival, that the Gesso Decimo is threatening their existence, that he wants to wipe out the mafia entirely and them with it, and even if she doesn't say, Yuni wonders why she's fighting against someone with goals like that at all.

Reborn - when he's transported forward and sideways as well -  is grimly furious and that much harder on Yuni. Yuni suspects it's less because of their apocalyptic surroundings and more because he's met Tsuna and never realized the boy was mafia, and an heir to boot, even if it's of a small famiglia. The number one hitman doesn't like being bested.

Likewise, her friends are rowdy and eager in turn, as soon as they're told who the enemy is, there's arguments about when to attack and how to attack, but no one actually questions if they should attack. Yuni tries once to ask why Tsuna would do this, what pushed him to this point, but her voice is swallowed by a deluge of "I told you so"s, half of them vindicated that Tsuna's turned out to be a bad guy, the other half just determined to "defeat" him.

Yuni wonders if they realize defeat means kill, because not a single one of them save perhaps Gokudera has taken a life before.

Byakuran is also there, much to everyone's consternation because most haven't met him and the few Arcobaleno who have also been time-travelled are visibly uncomfortable with Byakuran in the room. But he's a silent shadow on her shoulder, and somehow, he makes everything bearable. They don't know each other quite as well as they both know Tsuna - their Tsuna - but they gravitate towards each other naturally, and the first time Reborn fires a bullet at her that would've left a sizeable bruise on her forehead, Byakuran's Sky Flames surge up like a tidal wave and crashes down on the room's occupants with the same kind of merciless crushing force, sending all but Yuni to their knees. For once, the Sky Arcobaleno does not smirk or smile or even make light of the situation. His gaze is cold on his pseudo-Sun, and he tells Reborn in cool uncompromising tones, "I would take care if I were you, Sun Arcobaleno Reborn. You are no longer the most powerful individual here. Show some respect to your betters."

And then he nudges Yuni's cheek, and Yuni only hesitates a moment (staring at these strangers who don't care about her, not really, who only care about what she can give them, who put her on a pedestal and ignore her just as easily when it suits them), and without a word, she turns and walks away.

They don't leave that night, not yet. Yuni doesn't know where to go, and Byakuran seems reluctant to leave her. This is a Tsuna, but it's not a Tsuna they know, so it would probably be unwise to simply stride right up to the Gesso's front door and ask to speak to him.

Several frankly ridiculous battles later and they meet Irie Shouichi who's Gesso but a spy, one of Vongola's but not one of Yuni's (because once a traitor, always a traitor, and who says he won't turn on her one day), who tells them about Tsuna's strongest, the Funeral Wreathes, and the best ways to breach their defences and defeat them, a bunch of information he managed to hack and swipe before cutting his ties once and for all. They manage to blow up one of the Gesso's main bases using the information, and everyone cheers and celebrates like those weren't people they literally flattened by moving walls together like some scientist's twisted obstacle course for rats.

(Byakuran's expression darkens steadily the longer they're in the others' company. Yuni thinks he doesn't really care about the lives lost, but he cares that she cares, and also because each and every battle they've been in against Tsuna's subordinates, they held back.

One man was particularly memorable, "What the fuck? Why the fuck are there children in here?"

And from that point on, to a man, the worse the Gesso did was knock them out before retreating themselves, and Vongola paid them back by crushing them.

Yuni wonders if this was her alternate self's plan all along - not just because they have the extra boost that the Vongola rings provide, but also the fact that she knew Tsuna's people don't kill children, and so what better way to win than to send children into battle against them.)

The final straw is when they finally come face to face with Tsuna.

Because this Tsuna is different. He still looks about the same, older of course, but recognizable enough. There are lines on his face that makes him look even older than he is though, stress lines more than age, while his eyes - hard and dark - survey them with a cold sort of disgust, and he doesn't just have his Funeral Wreathes behind him.

Near the very back stands Mukuro with Chrome beside him and Ken and Chikusa behind them, and Yuni definitely wondered where her sort of Mists were because all her other Guardians were switched. But all anybody would tell her was that Mukuro disappeared a while ago but it was fine, he was never quite part of Vongola, certainly never trusted, kept on the fringes so he wouldn’t be a real threat, still technically in Vendicare because even after a decade he was never freed.

He's free now though, Yuni can sense that much, and he smirks at them all, straight-backed and proud and lacking the clouded feral hatred that used to sit around his neck like a physical noose. The distaste is still there, but he - and Chrome - look more at home behind Tsuna than they ever did around Yuni's people.

What makes Byakuran's breath catch though is someone else entirely. On the far left in a familiar cloak and hovering half a foot in the air is a fully adult Viper, and Yuni did wonder when they met up with the Varia why their illusionist had been replaced, but nobody asked so she didn't either. Viper's here though, facing them with their hood obscuring half their features but standing firm all the same despite the sneers they get from their former Varia colleagues.

Tsuna catches their eye, her and Byakuran's, and as if he can read their mind, he calls out mockingly in a way their version never has with them, "Didn't they tell you? I found a way to break the Curse. You'd think all the Arcobaleno would be jumping onboard just for that, but after your pet hitman-" He nods at a silent Reborn. "-tried to stab me in the back after he got the cure," Tsuna grins, half mad, all teeth. "I reverted him right back to toddler-hood. Bad behaviour shouldn't be rewarded after all." His gaze flickers to Irie, who immediately doubles over and starts clutching his stomach and groaning. "And I hate traitors."

The Varia gets tired of all the talking first and fires the first shot, and then it's just all-out war in the clearing after that, every Vongola-affiliated member throwing themselves into battle for a cause Yuni doesn't even believe in.

(Yuni can't even pretend to be surprised when - a few minutes later - Irie convulses, not anxiety this time but like he's having a seizure, before pretty-looking vines burst out of him and promptly choke him to death. When she finally manages to tear her eyes away from the macabre sight, the Gesso Cloud catches her gaze and half-bows in her direction before returning to Tsuna's side.)

Vongola wins, in the end, but not before Yuni thinks she understands why her Tsuna - their Tsuna - befriended her, befriended Byakuran. They're the Tri-Ni-Sette Skies, and they were never meant to be alone. Apart, they always fail, and this future alternate universe is the perfect example - Byakuran, lost and adrift and so resigned to his own death that he couldn't even trust a promise of freedom when Tsuna offered it; Yuni, moulded into everything she despised, a puppet boss parroting the ideals of a Vongola soaked in the corpses of innocents; and Tsuna, gone mad with the weight of all of time and space in his head and nothing to help him shoulder them, fighting to reshape the world but ultimately stonewalled by the very two people who were supposed to support him.

The Funeral Wreathes and the other Gesso members fall one by one, and with each death, Yuni thinks she can almost feel something in Tsuna shatter.

In the end, he attacks, discorded and feral, and Yuni cries as she slams a final X-Burner through his chest.

The celebrations that follow make her sick. Everyone's so happy, congratulating each other, congratulating her like she didn't just kill someone who was basically one of her soulmates, like she should be proud. She ends up going for long walks away from the base, snapping at anyone who tries to follow her, and perhaps it's because they've never seen her so adamant about anything but - for once - they obey. They probably put her mood down to making her first kill.

She takes Byakuran with her, partly because he's the only company she wants, partly because she's afraid she'll come back to a safehouse full of dead bodies if she leaves him alone for even five minutes with the others.

He's the only one who understands anyway. She has blood on her hands that she'll never be able to wash off. It doesn't matter that this wasn't their Tsuna; it was still a Tsuna and she killed him because she wasn't strong enough to tell the Vongola no.

"His death was a mercy," Byakuran tells her in subdued but resolute tones. "Discorded Skies never recover. If there was anything left of him at the end, he would've been grateful."

But that doesn't make anything better, and Byakuran knows it too if the way he lets her cuddle him is any judge.

"What's done is done," Byakuran says next. "What's important now is what we do next."

Because of course it's we now. Yuni and Byakuran. And Tsuna if they...

"Do you think he knew?" Yuni asks hollowly. "That I'd kill him?"

Byakuran's smiles mirthlessly. "He's Mare. I think he knew the kind of decision we would have to make after coming here."

This boy is dangerous, Byakuran once thought and now knows. In the present and the future, in their universe and this one, Tsuna gave them temptation. He showed them his ambitions, his goals, his promises, a way out from under Vongola's thumb for Yuni and a life finally free of the Curse for Byakuran. Most of all, he showed them how good they could be together and how much worse they were apart.

Join me and be free, is what Tsuna has been offering from the very beginning, and until today, Byakuran has never before met anyone who could be so kind and yet wield that kindness with such terrifyingly manipulative precision in the exact same breath.

In the end, they don't really have to discuss it. The answer is easy. Now they just have to wait.

When they finally get back to their universe, it only takes about a day for Yuni and Byakuran to pack a bag and slip away in the dead of night.

Somehow, even after everything, nobody suspects anything. Reborn isn't even around, busy reporting everything to the Nono.

Tsuna is waiting at the edge of town, leaning against a limo with Kikyo behind the wheel, Chrome and Ken and Chikusa already in the back. He doesn’t look at all surprised when he sees them, eyes glittering with triumph, but he smiles too, warm and easy and welcoming as always, and there is no regret as Byakuran and Yuni follow him into the car and away from the shackles that the mafia dared try to place on them.

World domination isn't ever going to be easy. But in this one universe, the Tri-Ni-Sette Skies found each other, and they are going to be unstoppable.

#khr #sawada tsunayoshi #yuni #byakuran #1002701 #headcanon #let's take over the world with kindness verse #myscrap

[outofangband]

(Two Angband snippets, edited, revised, and added too. Warning for abuse and Morgoth’s particular brand of creepiness. Please feel free to reblog.)

(1)

“Elf…” a rough whisper from the doorway startled Maedhros out of his half sleep. He blinked. One of his hands was pressing against his face. The intrusive presence he had been attempting to bat away was merely a sliver of light from the space beyond his tiny cell. A soft sound as the figure stepped in, the door closing behind them. Maedhros stayed still against the wall, not knowing what it was the intruder wanted. He could barely make out their outline despite how well his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Indeed, when the being lit a torch with a hissing sound that made Maedhros shudder in his chains, the brightness stung his eyes so hot tears spilled down his bruised cheeks.

   “Elf,” was repeated in the gruff accent of someone unaccustomed to Maedhros’s native tongue. They sounded unsure, not malicious and so he did not attempt to move into a still more protective position. As the torch light was raised, Maedhros could see what they were holding; a jug with several cloths draped over it. He lifted his head slightly.

   “My lord wants you to clean yourself. Again,” they stumble over their words but as the order had been given before, Maedhros had no difficulty understanding it. He merely sighed softly. He was exhausted and the prospect of crawling across the tiny room over to the jug and letting the always too cold water spill over his many injuries felt repulsive. The servant took another few steps forward and set the jug down, though not close enough that Maedhros could reach it. They seemed almost wary of the elf, as though the chained and battered creature could somehow cause them harm if they moved too quickly. Or perhaps they were uncomfortable by his many injuries and generally brutalized appearance. Maedhros would have thought such a look would be uncommon in Angband. The few times he had seen other prisoners in the corridors, they were hardly being shepherded along gently. And in the places where the passages were cave wall on one side and the sharp edge of a drop on the other, a quick glance over the ledge was enough to gain sight of the presumably hundreds of skeletons, not all of them completely devoid of flesh and features. Yet the several times the servant had entered Maedhros’s tiny space to deliver the rudimentary supplies needed to keep him resembling clean (though why his enemy bothered with this at all Maedhros could not think of any other explanation than that it was to constantly remind him of just how unclean he felt, no matter how many times he was washed), they appeared hesitant, almost nervous as though this wasn’t what they signed up for. The sight of the obviously tortured elf was an unpleasant reminder they did not want to grapple with.

   Indeed, it had startled even Maedhros when, on the third occasion the still nameless guard had left a jug of water and roughly sewn washing cloth at his feet, they swallowed nervously, looked around at the locked door behind them and whispered that they had never seen prisoners kept in their master’s quarters. They had left Maedhros feeling a mixture of curiosity, annoyance, and despair, not really sure what the purpose of that confession had been. Was that supposed to make him feel better, to know that the pain he was experiencing was indeed unique, even in Angband or that his position as king to the dispossessed Noldor was recognized in this twisted manner? Instead of joining the rest of the prisoners in the underground levels to end up in the slave quarters or worse, the breeding chambers for the monsters sewn in the darkness, Maedhros was here, serving as something akin to a personal slave to the Dark Foe though instead of being set to work, he provided some form of vaguely politically motivated entertainment. He supposed he should be grateful he was not yet forced to provide anything more incriminating to this enemy, like battle plans or armory inventory but even this made Maedhros uneasy and, though he loathed to admit it, even to himself, humiliated and indignant. As though his only use to the Dark Foe was these twisted, perverted games which was quite a disheartening thought, and, if nothing else, was yet another reminder of how far he had fallen from his father’s legacy.

   Maedhros shuddered at this thought and cold water fell onto a splatter of bruises on his bare thighs. Eight streams of blood drying where they star of the house of Fëanor had been carved into his flesh. He winced.

(2)

Growing up with as many younger brothers and cousins as he did, Maedhros had long since learned to pick his battles. And as life and its consequences became increasingly more severe, so did the decisions he had to make regarding what he would fight and what he would quietly endure. In Angband, this talent of knowing when to stand down and when to gather his resolve and continue was put to use not so much as a leadership or strategic quality but more as a complication in a perverse game of choices. Seemingly futile choices.

When he arrived Maedhros resolved to not break under torture, to not give a single detail of his family, his armies, or his people to the enemy. By his sixth meeting with the Dark Foe, it was clear that the Vala cared little for information. His attempts at questioning Maedhros were lazy, almost dismissive. What he enjoyed, what he wanted, was the torture itself. And he was good at it. Maedhros’s determination to stay alert and aware so as not to accidentally give anything away faded to the dull realization that when he chose to fight, it was not so much productive but rather performative. When he resisted, when he refused to scream, to cry, to lose control over his increasingly alien body, it was to serve no other purpose than to prove a point. To refuse to give his enemy the reactions he so obviously craved. Which would have been easy enough. Maedhros had a high tolerance for physical pain and discomfort. Unfortunately, the longer Maedhros denied Morgoth what he wanted, the longer the session would last, making the torture more brutal, more degrading, more…creative. So, Maedhros bitterly observed to himself as he was half dragged from his tiny cell on one occasion, all he had to do was calculate how long the torment was worth enduring, given that he knew it would happen either way and though the loss of composure was no guarantee that it would stop, it would certainly continue until he gave in. All these factors made his head hurt.

  Today it seemed new ones could be introduced. Instead of being brought to the throne room, the Nevermost Hall, as it was referred to within the confines of the fortress, the guard escorting Maedhros to his quotidian doom brought him to a set of doors on a different level. A quick glance around as he was pushed and pulled past by a chain wrapped around his wrists let him know that this was an even fancier location. The various servants, beast and Maiar alike paused to look at him. Some even whispered speculations, nodding in Maedhros’s direction. Maedhros gritted his teeth. He could hardly let himself be upset by this comparatively minor indignity.

They stopped sharply at another set of doors where the guard knocked. Maedhros did his best to steel himself as the unmistakable footsteps of the Dark Vala drew closer. Without a word to the guard, the Moringotto took the chain and pulled Maedhros forward, the door closing behind them. The silence was almost awkward as Maedhros was dragged by the arm (the chain around his wrists had been wrapped around his neck temporarily) through the chambers and into yet another room. This one was more well lit than anywhere else in the fortress Maedhros had been. Luminous baubles the elf suspected might contain some form of life hung in the corners. The ceramic tile the room had been paved with was a bright, clean white. Maedhros’s jaw shook slightly. A large part of the place was occupied by a deep, obsidian basin, sunk into the ground.

It was difficult to say who looked more out of place in the ornate bathing room; the horribly thin elf, dressed in nothing but a tattered and dirty tunic that barely reached his calves or the Vala, in far better physical condition but nonetheless a startling figure of dark robes and hellish light in the gentle glow of the orbs. Maedhros swallowed, remaining perfectly still as the chain around his bloodied wrists was removed and cast to the side. Morgoth’s fingers ran briefly over the wounds, making the sparse hairs on the back of Maedhros’s head stand up. The sensation left half his arms temporarily numb.

Despite his height being rather impressive among his people, Maedhros was still much shorter than the Vala. The times he dared to look him in the face, he had to tilt his head back slightly. Today he was confused and angry enough to glare at his tormentor as they stood facing each other. As he suspected, Morgoth merely smirked at him, an eyebrow raised as though patiently indulging a child’s moment of stubbornness. Maedhros shifted uncomfortably, waiting for an order he could at least refuse.

Finally, the Vala sighed in an almost disappointed fashion and nodded towards the basin.

“Underneath,” he spoke in a high yet deep voice that did not seem to suit the language he used, “Is an underground spring.” He took a step away from Maedhros and moved something off the shallower end of the bath. Almost immediately, a hot gurgle of water started to seep into the basin. Maedhros could not help but to watch, transfixed. He had never seen anything like this before. Morgoth smiled slightly, amused by the elf’s surprise and obvious curiosity. He allowed Maedhros to stare for a few minutes as the water filled the bath before bringing him back to his present predicament.

“Get in.” A wave of the Vala’s hand and the water ceased to flow. Maedhros looked up sharply. Morgoth’s smile widened and so did the elf’s eyes. He nodded to the flimsy and stained tunic Maedhros wore.

“Take that off.” Maedhros stared at him, his face paling noticeably. The Vala’s own eyes glittered malevolently. He had seen his prisoner’s bare form before, covered in blood and writhing in forms of agony usually never even witnessed by his kind but Morgoth was well aware he was demanding a new level of vulnerability, humiliation. The look of almost bewilderment on Maedhros’s face spoke to the sheer wrongness, indecency of his order.

Maedhros’s hands shook so badly at his sides that he doubted he could easily slip off the tunic even if he wanted to. His took a small step backwards, mind reeling. Somewhere a snide, annoyed acknowledgment that it was foolish to be surprised by his enemy’s malice rose up in him. Morgoth was still watching, fingers pressed together.

“Take that off or I shall remove it for thee,” the Vala said quietly, his head tilted to the side in amusement. Maedhros considered this in the few moments he had before he knew Morgoth would become impatient and make the decision for him. As though there was something like a decision here. Part of him wanted to just let Morgoth do it, that way he didn’t have to feel complicit in his own embarrassment. But he also wanted to keep the Vala’s hands off of him for as long as he could. Swallowing, he raised a hand to the fraying color of the tunic and started to lift it off him. Maedhros felt his entire body tense, his toes clenching, his upper arms pressed tightly against his sides as he lowered his only clothing down to hold in front. Even a glare felt foolish so he kept his expression as blank as he could.

“Now get in,” Morgoth said, his too sharp teeth showing as a clawed hand reached out to pull the tunic from Maedhros’s hands, causing a small gasp. Feeling like he might at least be protected under the water, Maedhros climbed carefully into the large basin, his skin alighting with the oddly pleasant sensation from the hot water. The only times he had bathed in the past months had been with a rough cloth and small amount of frigid water. Maedhros didn’t need to be told that this was a privilege, a luxury here and that he was receiving it made him feel even more confused and embarrassed.

Resting his hand on the rim of the bath, Maedhros tried to relax. He was covered in bruises and abrasions which stung in the warmth. The knowledge that he was still being carefully observed burned in his eyes and cheeks. He positioned himself in the most guarded way he could manage with his knees to his chest and his other arm wrapped around them. The ends of his hair brushed against his back in the water. When he raised his head to the unpleasant sensation of something dripping down his back, he saw Morgoth reach into his robes and pull out a small, glass vial.

“What is that?” the frightened words were out before he could stop himself. The Vala raised an eyebrow as he held up the bottle to the light as though sincerely considering his prisoner’s question.

“Soap,” he answered, sitting on the rim of the bath. Maedhros inched away from him “You will need it. I want you to wash your hair too. It would be a shame to have to cut it.” He reached out and took a few strands of the elf’s red tresses. Maedhros held very still. He could not remember ever feeling more awkward or embarrassed. He wanted to thrash and shout though he was distinctly aware that doing so would be foolish, even childish. Come to think of it, the last time he had been forced to bathe with an observer, Tyelko had only just been born. The memory, however fleeting, exacerbated Maedhros’s humiliation painfully. He just wanted this to be over with, any physical torture Morgoth planned was far, far easier. But the realization was already starting to grow in him; the Vala knew perfectly well how uncomfortable this was. There was absolutely no reason for him to end it quickly, or to cease these types of torment. As though his thoughts were being observed, Morgoth laid a claw like hand on his prisoner’s back. Maedhros let out a sound halfway between a gasp and a cry as the hand begin to work through his hair carefully, almost gently. He felt so trapped within himself that he was startled when the dark Vala began to speak again, in a low, soothing murmur.

The elf jolted as His fingers glanced over the eight pointed star of Fëanor that the Dark Lord Himself had carved into his skin, tracing over each line.

“Relax, little Fëanorian,” his hand began to rub slow circles on Maedhros’s bruised back making his entire body twitch, creating ripples in the warm water His terror took his breath away.“thou art so very marred, child. But I will fix it.” As though the marring had not been done by the Vala’s own hands. Maedhros could barely feel the water around him. He could barely feel his own limbs. The voice continued in his ear, whispering against his hair and blending with the caresses.   “You are lucky I consider the body and being of one of the Eldar to be worthy of my attention,” the Vala continued, pulling gently at Maedhros’s mind with his own. Maedhros had some vague registering of how wrong, how strange and bizarre and just wrong this was before he was forced to retreat. It was indeed curious to him that Morgoth felt he was worthy, if that could be the word, of his attentions when really there was so much else going on. But he could not afford to muse on it.

#morgoth #melkor #maedhros #The Silmarillion #angband #silmfic #short writings #In the Iron Hell

[exceedinglyregular]

Prompt: Andrew finds out that Steven likes men with beards so he decides to grow one. Although he does learn that Steven loves him regardless, Steven still is quite into beard burn and he won't say no to Andrew growing his stubble/beard (Not necessarily NSFW, kinda up to you on the frontier).

Title: Growing on Me

(ao3 link for those who prefer: here)

Andrew’s trying his best to focus on this video he’s supposed to be editing but it’s hard to when his boyfriend is literally sitting across him, laughing his sweet ass off. Steven and Jen are going through a bunch of BuzzFeed quizzes just for the fun of it and they are having an absolute blast.

After a few more failed attempts at concentrating on the task at hand, Andrew decides to stop here for now. He yanks his headphones off and just when he does that, he hears Steven commenting on one of the options in the quiz.

“…definitely the bearded guy. Men with beards are HOT!” That’s information Andrew definitely needed to hear.

Andrew walks around the desk to cross over to where Jen and Steven are sat. As he approaches, Jen looks up from the screen to greet him, Steven is still too consumed by the questions laid in front of him.

“What’s this?” Andrew asks, intrigued. He rests a hand on the table and leans forward, trying to read what’s being displayed.

“Pick your favorite looks and we’ll tell you who’s your true soulmate,” Steven reads right off the screen. “I wonder who I’ll get…” Steven must see something in Andrew’s face that isn’t there as he immediately starts backtracking. “I mean y-you-… you! …you are the one for me, of course! I just- this is just- The quiz mean nothing, Drew!”

Andrew cackles loudly, causing a few heads to turn. He honestly can’t believe what just happened, they should’ve been filming it.

“I’m not mad, don’t worry.” And Steven breathes a huge sigh of relief, Jen is clearly amused by this exchange as she’s giggling away. Andrew gestures at the laptop. “Keep going, I’m curious too.”

After several minutes of in-depth pondering, Steven finally reaches the last question and…

“OH MY GOD!” Steven jumps out of his chair, and is stumbling over the wires running across the floor. Jen is screaming like a crazed sports fan whose team just won. The entire office is looking over at them but only for a brief moment, these kinds of outbursts are more than common around here.

Andrew reaches out and turns the laptop to face him so that he can get a better look at the result. It reads…

You got: Andrew Ilnyckyj! BuzzFeed’s very own ‘creepy’ guy. Don’t let that cool, stoic exterior fool you, he is secretly a lovable goofball. A man of many talents, Andrew is more than capable of whipping up a scrumptious dinner for you, and can even charm your socks off with his wide history and geography knowledge. Plus, he loves animals too! Who said the perfect guy doesn’t exists?

That little snippet put a hot blush on Andrew’s face. He doesn’t even think he’s that much of a catch, much less being ‘the perfect guy’. Steven appears to disagree as he pulls Andrew in for a kiss, hands wrapping around his waist.

“So does the quiz still mean nothing?” Andrew asks when they part. Steven’s grip on his waist tightens, and he brings his face in closer. Their breaths mingle as Steven replies in a low voice.

“Yes. I don’t need a dumb quiz to tell me anything.”

—

So that soulmate quiz thing may actually be accurate but… Andrew’s not taking his chances. It took him so long to finally get into a relationship with Steven, he’s going to do everything in his power to see it through. Even if said ‘everything’ is going to get uncomfortable for him.

Andrew has scratched at his jaw over twenty times for the last few minutes, so it’s no surprise that it caught his boyfriend’s attention.

“Beard problems?” Steven asks the next time he sees Andrew scratching away. Andrew stops mid-scratch, he smiles, hoping to make it look like less of a problem than it actually is.

“No, just…” He then continues scratching when he can’t stand the itch. “…really itchy”

“Why don’t you shave it off then?” Steven suggests nonchalantly, taking another bite of his pizza. Andrew feels his heart sink, if Steven is suggesting that… Does he think Andrew can’t handle a little prickling? Granted, what he has on his face is more stubble than beard, and he already has this much difficulty living with it. Maybe he should just- No. Andrew shakes his head, he’s not giving up.

“N-no, it’s fine. Just needs some time to get used to it, that’s all.” Andrew replies, aggressively rubbing the side of his face in hopes of ending the irritation.

“Oh-kay…” is all Steven says, continuing with consuming his lunch.

Damn the itchiness, Andrew’s just gonna have to grin and bear with it. He’s going to make Steven swoon so hard with his beard, and no amount of irritation is going to stop him.

Andrew picks up another slice, focusing on the chewing and the swallowing and the flavor, and pushing any thoughts of his facial hair to the back of his mind.

—

It’s been two whole weeks since Andrew has seen his boyfriend, and he wants to make Steven’s six-hour flight from New York completely worth the time. Andrew went ahead and tracked down the very quiz that Steven took to find that specific image of that bearded man. It took hours of preparation but Andrew thinks he has the look nailed down.

Andrew watches as waves of people pass him, he checks the time. Steven should be out by now. Just as he thinks this, Steven steps out of the arrival hall looking all around like a lost child searching for their parent at a mall. Andrew chuckles to himself and walks over to the bewildered man who is still looking the wrong direction.

“Hey kiddo, are you lost?” Andrew puts on a comically deep voice and a playfully concerned face. Steven spins around immediately, not yet recognizing his own boyfriend standing in front of him.

“No sir, I-… Andrew?!” His eyebrows rise up so high that they almost disappear into his white cap. Steven’s checking him out up and down, and Andrew is feeling just a little self-conscious to have that kind of attention on him, in public no less. “Is this your Halloween costume? Are you going as Adam?”

“What? No…” Andrew looks down at his clothing, which Steven is now thoroughly inspecting and oh god. He has a red and blue plaid shirt on, black skinny pants and with the beard… it’s the holy trinity of the iconic Bianchi look. All he’s missing is the glasses, which he fortunately doesn’t need. “I just… I heard that you’re really into guys with beards so…”

Steven laughs at that and it’s the most cute, innocent laughter Andrew has ever heard. Steven’s bent at the waist and doubled over, shaking with mirth. When he finally regains his composure, they are tears in his eyes that he has to wipe away. Andrew doesn’t understand what’s so funny.

“Oh my god, Drew! I wasn’t trying to hint at you or anything!” There’s a little tingle that runs down Andrew’s spine, like always when Steven calls him by that nickname. It’s sorta distracting him from the moment.

“I… I didn’t think you were, just thought that maybe I should take a little initiative…?” Andrew shrugs, unsure of how to explain his thought process.

“Even so, I don’t think Adam is a good look on you.” He frowns and yeah, Andrew already has thoughts to rework his style. Still, he feels it’s important to explain his intention here.

“I just want to make you happy,” Andrew kinda mumbles, not moving his lips as much as he should, as if he’s ashamed to admit it. He stares down at the floor like a shy high-schooler asking someone out to prom.

When he finally gathers enough courage to sneak a look at Steven… he is looking at Andrew like he’s the biggest dummy on the planet. He takes a step towards Andrew and brings a hand up to cup his face, soft fingers gently stroking his beard.

“And you do. I love you, Andrew… beard or no beard, it doesn’t matter.” Steven’s smiling at him with the intensity of a thousand suns, and the warmth bursting through Andrew’s heart matches it in magnitude. It’s sappy but true.

“I know. I love you too.” Andrew closes the distance between their lips, and maybe it’s from missing him so much but Steven’s lips taste way sweeter than Andrew ever remembered. Even over the hubbub of the airport, Andrew can distinctly hear the tiny noise of satisfaction coming from Steven. When they pull away, it’s Steven’s turn to look embarrassed.

“You know what? I actually really like it, it’s really rough but…” Steven leans way in, bringing his lips next to Andrew’s ear, the hot breath almost making him shiver. “…that kinda turns me on.”

Before Andrew can formulate any sort of response, Steven’s walking off with the baggage cart. What a tease. Andrew catch up to him with double-wide strides, returning to normal once he’s side-by-side with his man again.

“I didn’t really like it at first either but it’s growing on me.” Andrew pauses for dramatic effect, Steven is already preemptively rolling his eyes because he knows where this is going. “Literally!”

Andrew’s pointing finger guns at a very done Steven, he even pretends to fire a few shots. The taller man lifts one hand off the handle of the cart to slap him on the arm, but he’s chuckling at the pun regardless.

“Not your best work. I give it an 8.”

“Out of 10? That’s a pretty good score.” Andrew wrestles for control of the cart away from Steven, who initially resists but gives up to yawn.

“No, out of a 100. You’re failing miserably.” That’s what he claims but Andrew knows better. The fondness that’s on full display on Steven’s face tells him all he needed to know: he succeeded perfectly.

Closing notes:

Some of you may notice that I actually teased the title in the last prompt fic.

#ST07 #standrew #standrew prompts #standrew fic #ao3 fic

[redditnosleep]

The December Tapes

by Pippinacious

Every year on December 12th, a new one would arrive. Always in the same bright Christmas wrapping, always unmarked, always left on our front porch.

They started coming a year after my sister, Libby, disappeared.

She was last seen walking home from the elementary school in her favorite bright purple jacket with the faux fur hood. It was just a couple blocks, a walk she'd made hundreds of times, and our mom was standing at the foot of our driveway keeping an eye out for her. No one knows for sure what happened in the ten minutes it should have taken Libby to get home; we only know that she never made it.

I remember lying in bed that night, listening to my dad trying to keep his voice steady while he spoke to the cops and my mom making phone call after phone call to Libby’s friends and our neighbors and all the local stores that Mom knew she liked to visit, just in case she'd decided to take an uncharacteristic detour and lost track of time.

Our quiet life quickly became media fodder. It was surreal and upsetting to see my nine year old sister’s latest school portrait grinning at me from the TV screen on the evening news, to hear her name spoken on the radio. My parents gave interviews and pleaded for anyone with any information to come forward, which only resulted in dead ends and prank calls. There were reporters stationed outside our house for a week, just waiting to pounce with their invasive questions.

And then, slowly, the attention began to fade. A missing girl only kept people interested for so long and, when no new leads appeared, they moved on. The reporters gave up first, then the cops, and then our neighbors, until only my family was still looking.

“We'll keep it open, but inactive,” we were told over the phone by a sympathetic sounding desk sergeant, “it” being my sister’s case file. She didn't even have a name to them anymore.

The first year after Libby disappeared went slowly. My parents did their best to keep things normal for me, but it always felt thin, fragile, strained. Normal now meant pretending I didn't notice Mom staring at the seat Libby used to sit in every night at dinner. It meant tiptoeing back down the hall so my dad didn't know I saw him standing in the middle of her room, her favorite stuffed toy hugged against his chest. It meant dreading her birthday and holidays because they were now just razor sharp reminders of loss.

It meant trying to cope without my little sister, and there were some days I wondered how anything would ever feel right again.

And then, on December 12th, exactly one year after she went missing, a package arrived on our doorstep.

It was wrapped in sparkly red paper and tied off with a bright purple ribbon. There was no card or name tag attached, just the box, but Mom brought it inside anyway. She figured it was from one of our neighbors just trying to spread a little Christmas spirit. It was the first gift we'd gotten. She put it aside and set about making dinner, careful to keep her back to me so that I might not notice she was crying, but I did anyway and any tiny speck of holiday cheer I might have been feeling was swept away.

The package sat on our kitchen counter, unopened, until my dad got home and asked what it was.

“Go ahead and open it, Phin,” Dad said with a tired smile.

With as much enthusiasm as I could muster, I tore into the wrapping paper and pulled open the small cardboard box within. Sitting inside, nestled on a bed of red and green tissue paper, was a cassette tape.

Curious, I ran to my room for my boombox and lugged it back to the kitchen, where I popped open the front and dropped the cassette into its player.

The room filled with my sister’s terrified, desperate screams.

“Mommy,” she wailed from the speakers. “Daddy!”

We all sat in stunned silence for a moment before my dad leapt at the boombox and tore the tape out.

I listened to that cassette many times in the following days. First from just outside the kitchen, when my parents played it in full after they thought I'd gone to my room, and then a second time when the police came. Snippets were released to re-generate interest in the case and they were played on the news and on the radio and, once again, Libby Helmer was a household name for another couple of weeks.

It didn't matter how many times I heard it, though, it never got any easier.

Libby screaming for our parents, the gut wrenching fear in her voice, the way she sobbed and begged to go home, and behind it all, a soft voice that just kept saying, “Shhh, shhh.”

Nothing came of it except more heartbreak. There were no prints, no DNA, nothing to trace the package or its contents, and all we were left with was Libby’s terrified voice.

The only solace we could take from it was that, somewhere, Libby was alive.

Mom and Dad redoubled their search efforts and upped the reward offered for Libby’s safe return, but another year came and went without any new information, until December 12th was upon us again.

For the second year in a row, we received another cassette tape.

“Hi Mommy and Daddy and Phin,” Libby said from the boombox once we'd gathered enough courage to hit play. She sounded tired, the kind of tired that resonates from deep down; the kind no kid should be familiar with. “I miss you. I hope I can come home soon, but I don't know. I think about you lots. I hope you think about me, too.” Her voice cracked and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from doing the same. “Smiling Thom says I've been a good girl. He wanted you to know that.”

The tape ended.

Again, we went to the police, and again, nothing came of it. Even with the inclusion of a name, this Smiling Thom, they weren't able to dig up anything that might have helped us find Libby. All we had to hold us over for another year was her sad, small voice.

The third tape arrived, right on time, the next year. Libby’s voice sounded a little older, but it was still recognizably her’s.

“Hi, it's me. You remember me, right? I try to draw you lots so I don't forget you, but it's getting harder. Smiling Thom says that's just the way it goes. I asked him for a picture of you, but he hasn't brought me one yet. He said if I was really good, he will, and I've tried to be, but I dunno if he will. I want to go home. Smiling Thom said maybe next year. He says that a lot. I love you.”

It hit me then that it was getting harder for me to remember her, too. Not just what she looked like, but the sound of her voice and the things she liked and the way she laughed. While my parents played and re-played the tape, desperately listening for any clues that it might hold as to Libby’s whereabouts, I went and dug out her baby book. I spent the rest of the night studying her face and all the little notes that Mom had put in the margins.

I fell asleep with the book clutched against my stomach and tears staining my face.

It was another long year with no answers.

For four more years, we waited for December 12th to arrive with a strange combination of hope and horror. We fed off of those tapes, used them to get us through another 365 days with the belief that Libby was still alive. We dreaded getting them, but we dreaded the December 12th that we opened our front door to find nothing there even more.

Every tape followed a similar pattern: she'd tell us she missed us, that she wanted to come home, that she thought about us. In some, she'd ask questions like whether we still thought of her. She'd tell us that Smiling Thom said she'd been good again.

She sounded more and more different in every one; older and more articulate, but always sad, always tired. It was like listening to my sister grow up in sound bites when I played the tapes back to back.

There was never anything new in them. We kept bringing them to the cops, but it felt more like a hollow effort each time, until Dad finally decided he'd had enough and we wrote them off the same way they had us.

“We're not giving up,” Dad said. “We're just on our own now.”

Another year passed. We put up posters, we shot local commercials, we gathered volunteers and combed wider and wider areas, although it was obvious that those who joined us were doing it more for solidarity than out of any actual belief that we would find Libby. Even when we played the tapes for people, they didn't seem quite convinced that the girl they were hearing was my sister

It had been 8 years since Libby disappeared and the only people who still thought she might come home were me and my parents.

Until we got the tape that year.

Mom stood over the table, staring at the still wrapped box, for a long moment. Her eyes were glassy, her lips trembling, and she shook her head.

“I can't,” she said weakly. “I can't listen to another one. I don't even know her voice anymore. What kind of mother am I? What kind of mother doesn't even recognize her own child’s voice? Just take it away; put it back! Put it back! I don't want it in this house!”

She started to sink to the floor and Dad hurried around the table to catch her.

“Just do it, Phin!” He shouted over his shoulder.

The pain I saw on both their faces, still so raw after so long, drove me to grab up the box and run to the front door. I dumped it back on the porch and left it to sit in the gathering snow. I didn't think about it at the time; if I had, I would have hidden the box in my room or just tucked in a drawer somewhere. In that moment, though, I just did what Mom said. I got it out of the house.

I had no doubt that, once Mom calmed down, I'd be told to retrieve it again and we'd listen to it the same as we had all the others. Neither of my parents would miss the chance to hear their Libby’s voice.

It was only an hour later that I was instructed to go and get the tape. Mom apologized and said she was ready.

But when I opened the front door, the package was gone and no amount of searching made it reappear.

We assumed some opportunistic low life looking to steal Christmas gifts had taken it and tried to console one another with reassurances that there would be another tape the next year, but it didn't really help. Mom blamed herself, I blamed myself, and Dad was just caught up in his grief over not getting to hear his little girl. We thought about filing another police report, but after all the previous years of no real help and dead ends, we decided against it.

We'd just have to try and wait until the next December 12th.

We didn't put up posters or launch search parties or do anything else to look for Libby in that year. It was too exhausting, too expensive, too heartbreaking. Mom was especially fragile after the loss of the last tape. There was nothing we hadn't tried and it had all ended in failure. We just needed some time to recoup and collect ourselves before we began the search again.

I was woken up the morning of December 12th that year by a muffled thud coming from downstairs. It was early, still dark, and I almost rolled over and went back to sleep until I remembered what day it was.

I was up and out of bed instantly.

My parents bedroom door was still closed and their light off when I hurried past on tiptoes. I was relieved, in a way. It was always hard to get the tapes, but seeing what it did to my parents just made it harder. I thought, maybe, if I could listen to it alone first, it would make it less horrible somehow.

It didn't occur to me until I was opening the front door that the tapes had only ever come in the evening before.

By then, I'd already seen the package, and I knew immediately that something was very wrong.

Instead of a small box, this one was large. Very large. It was still wrapped in the same bright paper and tied off with a purple ribbon, but this year, there was a card on top. Instinctively, I closed the door behind me before I moved towards it, as if I was doing something wrong and didn't want to get caught, and I reached for the card.

Only 9 years before you gave up. I had hoped for better from you. She was such a good girl.

The message was written in slanted, thin letters and ended in a drawn smiley face.

A slow boiling queasiness had started in my stomach. I let the card slip through my fingers to the ground and I grabbed the edge of the large box and I started to peel back the paper. The box beneath was plain white and covered by a lid.

I paused, panting, sweating despite the cold, my heart hammering against my chest, and I fought back the bile rising in my throat.

I could only bring myself to lift the lid ever so slightly, just enough to see inside. Just enough to see the thin brown hair and the pale face with its slack jaw and sightless eyes peeking back at me from within a bed of red and green tissue paper. Just enough to see the edge of a bright purple coat wrapped around her emaciated body.

Just enough to see that Libby had finally come home.

#creepy #horror story #kidnapping #author: Pippinacious #mod favorite

[coutelier]

Another chapter of Asterion up.  And... you know what I’ll just post the whole chapter here.  It is kind of fluff on the surface, but of course it’s in fact there so we learn a little bit about the characters.  We see a little bit how Jen’s mind works, learn a little bit about Sayuri, and see Kaya bounce back from what happened to her in the club earlier.

If you want to help out with beta reading and giving feedback, just message or send me an ask.  I’m uploading all the chapters to a password protected blog here on Tumblr, or you can email me for a document if you prefer (see my about page).  I’m currently working on... well, lets say second draft.  It’s a bit complicated, but I’ve written lots, playing around with different ideas, but now I’m selecting what I want and stitching it all together.  Anyway, here is the chapter I promised below the break.

Jennifer looked sceptically at her drink.  She didn’t know what it was.  She’d asked Sayuri, leaning on the bar next to her, what she should get and the bartender, Amara, suggested something sweet.  She tasted it.  It was tangy and fruity and not unpleasant at all.  She liked it, but was unsure whether to drink it quickly in the hope the others would hurry up as well and they could get out of here, or to try and make it last as she didn’t want to get drunk or spend any more money in this place.  Kaya hadn’t returned from the bathroom yet so she supposed she would just have to wait anyway.

“So,” she asked, “what do we do now?”

Sayuri hummed, then said, “just chat, I guess.”

Jennifer was afraid of that. She hated just chatting.  She never knew what to chat about.  She already knew what the weather was like, and she didn’t know Sayuri’s family well enough to ask about them.  Once, when she was younger, she’d heard that someone’s dog had won a competition so she asked them about that, only to discover that the dog had been kidnapped a few days before.  She felt that she should have known that as everyone else immediately made it clear that they did, and never got over the shame, embarrassment and guilt she felt at possibly upsetting those poor people.  It had long felt like there was a private club that everyone in the world was a member of except her.  At least she’d never been invited to join, until now.

She supposed there was one thing she was a little bit curious about.  “How did you and Kaya become friends?” She asked.

“Nothing special,” Sayuri shrugged.  “The band wanted a drummer.  I’m a drummer, so I joined.”

“Oh,” Jennifer was really hoping she would have kept talking a lot longer than that.  Now she had to think of something else.  “Why did you take that up?”

“It’s a great way to release negative energy and emotions, you know?  And it attunes you to the natural rhythms all around.  You want to try it?  When Kaya’s done we can go back to the garage.”

Jen admitted she was a little curious to see if any of that was true.  But she’d never had any musical talent and didn’t want to embarrass everybody.  “I-I’m okay,” she uttered meekly.

As if reading her mind, Sayuri said enthusiastically, “don’t worry.  It’s easy.”  Jen thought that Sayuri hadn’t considered that perhaps it was just easy for her because she’d been doing it for years, in the same way that engineering was easy to Jennifer because she had practiced at it.  Before she could continue that thought, Sayuri asked her, “what kind of music do you like, Jen?”

“I don’t know,” Jen answered honestly.  She often heard songs that she liked, but she never really thought deeply about them nor was she wedded to a particular style or artist.  “All sorts I suppose.”

“I thought maybe with all your robots you’d be into heavy metal.  Or sea shanties since you live in a lighthouse.  Or Pirate Metal.  Did you know that’s a thing?”

“No,” Jen confessed, taking another sip.  “I like Blow the Man Down.”

Sayuri snickered at that, for some reason.  It took a moment for Jen to realise that she might have thought something dirty, but by then Amara had returned to them, making herself look busy by wiping the bar. “You still in that band?” She asked Sayuri.  “What was it called… The Killer Aqua Babies?”

“Bunnies,” Sayuri corrected, turning her attention away from Jennifer.  “We’re a couple of members short since we split up with Candace and Ashley.”

Amara’s nostrils flared as if detecting a foul odour.  “Never liked those two.  Grown women shouldn’t be acting like my kid brother with his ‘gang’.”

“It was a long time coming. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about putting out an ad…”

They continued to chat about something Jennifer felt didn’t really concern her.  She would have liked to have heard her friends play some time, but – maybe just a recording.  Things sounded better if they were recorded properly anyway.  She could do that.  She had a sound proofed room and plenty of acoustic recording equipment at the lighthouse. She used it to record the ghost and werewolf noises to keep children and teenagers from getting too close, among other things.  There wasn’t much point suggesting it now, as there wasn’t a band and Kaya would ask if she wanted her to do that.

As Sayuri and Amara carried on, Jennifer noticed there was couple arguing on the other side of the central dance floor.  Or rather it looked they both worked here as they both wore white shirts and black waistcoats.  There seemed to be a problem with one of the restrooms and were debating whose job it was to fix it and whether they should inform the manager, who presumably was Stan Greif.  There was a balcony overlooking the dance floor, and through a window up there she could see Stan pacing and yelling at his phone.  Some more people had arrived in the club, including a man and a woman. The man had his arm around her, holding her tightly to him.  She didn’t look comfortable with it, but Jennifer wondered if maybe he was another gangster, used to threats against his life and that was why he was being protective. She couldn’t make out anything they said.  She couldn’t make out when anyone was saying anymore as there were at least a dozen people talking and she got snippets here and there but for the most part it was just one continuous drone.

She sunk forward, focusing instead on the pleasant sound of the bubbles in her drink.  Where the bubbles formed revealed tiny imperfections in the glass, which the bubbles would be stuck to until they grew large enough to float away.  She imagined them being like little squeaky voiced balloon people who spent their short existence just trying to get big enough to make it into heaven.  Which made it seem sad in a way, as when they escaped they in one sense ceased to exist.  But then they became part of the greater atmosphere, so…

Jennifer must have been considering the cosmology of the bubble people for some time as she suddenly felt her shoulder pushed and looked around to see Sayuri peering concernedly at her.  “You okay?” She asked.  “Looks like you zoned out.”

That was accurate, but Jennifer realised her behaviour must have seemed strange and inappropriate. Her cheeks flushed as she shifted upright on her stool.  “Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sayuri patiently said.  Jennifer would worry about it.  Telling her not to worry about it only made her worry more.  But she appreciated the kindness.  “We should get out of here anyway.  What the hell is Kay…”

Kaya chose that moment to appear again, her face, far more cheerful than when she’d left, thrusting between Jen and Sayuri as she put an arm around each of them.  “Alright my bobby-dazzlers, you ready to go?”

“Where have you been?” Sayuri quizzed.

“Told you. Bathroom.  Now hurry and finish up and let’s go.”

Jennifer squinted, not understanding the sudden change in her mood.  “Don’t you want anything?”

“Nah.  We’ll get something from a store.  Drink up.” Kaya was very eager and insistent, and the others just found themselves being dragged along in her wake, downing their drinks and heading with her to the door.  “Don’t run though,” Kaya suddenly cautioned.  “It’ll make us look guilty.”

Jennifer and Sayuri both stared, asking at about the same time, “guilty of what?!”

Jen looked back over her shoulder.  Mei Lin had just gone into one of the restrooms – the one she’d noticed the two employees arguing about.  Seconds later there was a faint splash and then an angered, tortured scream.  Mei Lin came running out, water dripping from her hair and flowing through all the channels around her muscles.  Stan Greif came out of his office, leaning on the balcony railing to see what the commotion was.  And then he saw the three women walking away.

“Cade!” He roared, muscles straining all around his face and neck.

“Okay,” Kaya said as she inhaled.  “Now run.”

#writing #writeblr #writblr #sci-fi and fantasy #beta readers #beta reading

[selenelavellan]

I know the Swapped Bodies snippet was meant to be a one-off, but once everything's back to normal (for a given value of 'normal'), how would Selene react to her new understanding of Dirthamen's experience? Fierce over-protective mode? Would Dirthamen be very surprised by inhabiting a body that isn't constantly shifting forms? Once they're properly situated, do they make many huggings?

Sorry for the wait anon.

Body Swap AU Part 2

part 1

Dirthamen and Deceit and the Evanuris belong to @feynites

The journey back to Dirthamens holdingsin Arlathan is strenuous.  Each step feels like she’s trudgingthrough water against the tide, ready for her feet (or whateversemblance of a foot she may currently be sporting) to give waybeneath her.

She ready to collapse by the time theymake it through the gates. Keeping the form is much more of a mentaland magical strain than she is used to dealing with, and still she isonly barely managing to keep it all together.

She and Deceit vanish behind the heavydrapery of Dirthamens private chamber together for a moment ofprivacy.

Selene melts into the couch cushions.

Literally.

Deceit quickly shifts into Dirthamensusual form, and begins quietly hissing at Selene.

“How did this happen?”

“I’m not sure,” Selene sighs, twopuddles crashing like waves up and then down in a semblance of a shrug. “I wasworking in the labyrinth, and then I felt a sting in the back of myneck, and then I was in that meeting.” She frowns as she recalls theevents of the meeting. “Are they always that rude to him?”

“It is usually worse,” Deceitadmits “But Mythal at least seemed to recognize something was notquite right and kept Elgar'nan more placated than she would normallybother to.”

“I suppose that’s…good, then? Fornow. Perhaps he’ll get a break.”

“He will not. It is more likely shewill be keeping a closer eye on things, and look for an opening toseize more power from him. You will have to be more cautious.”

Selenes frown deepens “I don’t likethe sound of that. I was hoping for more ‘don’t worry Selene, we’llget this all sorted out and get things back to normal’ and less'You’ve made everything exponentially worse and there’s no real planon how to move forward so just be careful and try not to get any ofus killed’.”

“I’ve always appreciated your abilityto read between the lines,” Deceit jokes with a smile that doesn’tquite reach his eyes.

A piece of her form curls up from theground and tugs teasingly on the bottom of his robe in response.

“The good news is, we have experiencein Dirthamen not always being Dirthamen,” Deceit placates “Thebad news is, that means you will need to be me while I am being him.”

“I don’t think I can manage Sairal,”Selene admits while trying to pull herself back into a vaguely elvenform rather than a series of thick puddles  “I can barely manage tokeep this together at all.”

“Another, simpler form might be moresuitable then. Have you tried a raven?”

Selene rolls her shoulders as best shecan, head practically falling over from the elongated neck when shemoves to crack it. Quickly, she straightens, and lets out a breath.

Ok.

A raven.She can do a raven. She’smanaged the white raven before, in her own body.

Same deal here.

Probably.

Let’s see…Wings, of course. And allblack, for Dirthamen, a bit larger than normal. Sleek, for Deceit,with the elongated talons…

She feels her body shifting, hears thebones snapping and stretching and feels wings pulling from hershoulder blades. One, two…three…four…five…and finally six.

Six isn’t right,she’s fairly certain. Most birds do not have six wings.

Eyes peel open tocheck, and it is disorienting at first. Too many perspectives, toomany clashing peripherals while her mind struggles to adjust to thesix eyes rolling in her newly stretched skull.

Deceit is so tiny,now.

Are ravens thisbig, she wonders? She’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to be.

“That isdefinitely not a raven,” Deceit informs her, panic beginningto subtly roll off of him. “The fact that you got to Dragonbefore a raven is a very interesting piece of information that wewill be filing away, but turning into that here could be seenas an act of war so you have to change, right now.”

Selenes ears droopin their slots beside her horns as her eyelids begin to slide closed.

Change?

Again?

“But I’m sotired…” she tries to say, but manages only a yawn and a lowrumble while her head settles down on her front paw (or is it a claw?She wonders), and she feels momentarily proud of herself for at leastmanaging to get the talons right before her eyes fall closed, heavybeneath the weight of her exhaustion.

Footsteps can beheard approaching the room, and Deceit spins on his heel, casting alarge glamour over her form in disguise as one of the attendantsenters.

Selene would beimpressed, if she weren’t so tired.

Deceit speaksbefore the attendant can.

“We will bereturning to our own territories immediately,” he informs them.“Please gather whatever is necessary for the trip.”

The attendantpauses, but quickly drops into a bow with a nod, and exits as quicklyas they had entered.

Deceit turns backto Selene, wearing Dirthamens most disapproving face.

She lets out a softwhine in response.

–

After a lengthyseries of contemplation, Dirthamen decides the least damaging thinghe can do, is return to his own quarters, to await Selenes return.

Which would be avery wise plan.

If only he hadconsidered that Selene is significantly more social than he is.

He is barely up thestairs when he hears someone call for her. It takes a moment, but heturns and gives an awkward wave to the woman calling for her. She iscarrying a clipboard, with several series of equations on them.

He is not sure whatthey are pertaining to.

That is mildlytroubling.

She is asking for aquick check of her mathematical writing for some sort of presentationshe will be giving.

Dirthamen is notentirely positive if her numbers are right or not, but given that heis technically the one she will ultimately be presenting to, he saysthey are fine so that she will be on her way.

He will check themlater.

He turns to headback up the stairs when he finds both arms have been seized. Loopedthrough by two other elves who should not be permitted totouch her without permission and-

Ah.

Melanadahl and Des.

He should haveexpected as much.

Their matchinggrins have his stomach feeling unsettled, and for a moment he misseshaving a form that could easily turn gaseous to escape their grasps.

“Seleeeeene~”Des singsongs “I finished that little piece you asked me to makeyou. When will you be over to try it on?”

“Piece of what?”Dirthamen asks before he can stop himself. He was unaware she wascommissioning Des and his body of…work.

Des’s eyebrowquirks in suspicion, but Melanadahl speaks up before he can begin aline of questioning.

Dirthamen does notthink he has ever been grateful to have Melanadahl speak up before.

“She can’t try iton until after we’ve checked over the newest piece of machineryJune’s people had sent over. Can you believe they’re still enchantingoak, rather than glass? And yet they’re the ones people lookto for innovations. It’s embarrassing, really. Are we allowed toembarrass them? Send them back a better version of their own design?Do you think you could swing an approval on that?”

“June seemsunlikely to take well to that,” Dirthamen-as-Selene frowns.

“So it’s June’sapproval you’re worried about now?” Melanadahl laughs “A week agoyou called their ambassador a barbarian after he tried to get youinto his bed.”

“He did what?”Dirthamen proclaims, pausing mid step. Not that Selene is notpermitted to sleep with whomever she chooses of course. They have notmade any vows of a monogamous partnership. Yet. But she hadn’tmentioned anything to him about it. Are there other, similarencounters still occurring she isn’t informing him of? She has beenspending each night in his bed, so she isn’t taking any of the otherproposals seriously, he supposes. Still, the thought of her doing sowith someone else is…not pleasing.

“Are you feelingalright?” Des questions, hand pressing against Dirthamen-as-Selenesforehead. “You were with the healers earlier, right? Do you need tolie down?”

“I amfeeling…adequate. Perhaps my memory has a few gaps, however. Pleasepardon any discrepancies.”

“Sure…” Deshums.

“Well, youprobably shouldn’t be in the workshop then,” Melanadahl pouts.After a beat, his lips curl into a large grin, and Dirthamen suspectshe is not actually broken up about the situation at all as hecontinues with “Des’s it is, then.”

–

Selene manages toget herself into a raven-esque form before the attendants return fortheir trip back into the territories. There are still six eyes andsix wings, but nothing about it is screaming 'Dragon’ anymore, soDeceit has calmed down significantly.

Selene is stillstruggling to contain everything. She’s not quite sure how Dirthamenmanages to do this all the time, but she knows there are lots moremassages in his future. Her back is killing her already.

The journey out ofArlathan seems calm enough that Selene manages to doze, still perchedon Deceit-as-Dirthamens shoulder as the contingent travels into thecrossroads.

Of course, that iswhen things get complicated.

Deceit hears thearrow with enough time to throw up a barrier, shattering it intosplinters. Three assassins shift, positions now compromised as thecontingent throws their own spells and weapons towards theassailants.

The battle does notlast long. It is all too obvious that these were people who reliedtoo heavily on the element of surprise and their stealth.

Selene would feelbad, if she were not still struggling to hold a form that couldmostly-pass for a raven.

“We are almostthere,” Deceit whispers to her. She takes it as a reassurance thatshe can doze again, and so she does, trying to ignore the smell ofblood coming from the corpses.

–

Dirthamentwirls Selenes body, wearing the very, very, short dress she hadapparently commissioned from Des. It is opaque only over her hips andbreasts, hiding very particular spots from view beneath a white silkthat is otherwise thin enough to be translucent. There is a slit upthe side to show off the length of her legs, and the back dips downin a steep curve that ends at the top curve of her buttocks.

He quite likes iton her.

He thinks he wouldlike it more if he could not also hear Melanadahls low whistle inapproval of it.

“You should wearthat to work,” he teases.

“It does notmatch the safety parameters of clothing that may be worn in theworkshop,” Dirthamen argues “This is clearly made only forbedroom activities.”

“That iswhat you asked for,” Des chimes in. “Are you sure you don’t wantme to bring the torso in a bit more?”

“No, this isfine,” Dirthamen assures. “I-He prefers when it is still a bitloose. There is more room for movement, and her-my comfort is veryimportant.”

“Uh-huh,” Desnods, tossing him back the clothing she had been wearing before.

Dirthamen movesback into the changing room, and quietly hopes that she will not betoo upset with him for ruining the surprise.

–

Deceit takes thefastest route back into Dirthamens chambers once they have crossedback into his territories. Her 'raven’ is beginning to grow extralimbs, and the mask reappearing is only causing more panic to rolloff of her as she looks around at the things that were not meant tobe seen by others. Her control over the form is slipping, and it is arelief to let her loose into their room.

Selene is alsoquite happy to be near a bed, he notes, as the form becomes moreelvhen and she sprawls out on the expansive mattress.

Dirthamen appearsnot long after, looking worn out himself.

His brow creases ashe watches Selenes form shift through an array of colors beforestriding towards him.

“Are youalright?” he asks as she curls around him.

“I’m fine,” sheassures him, feeling a bit better already, though still very, verytired. “How are you doing?”

Dirthamen hesitates“I ran into Des and Melanadahl, and found out about June’sambassador.”

“Oh.”

“You did not tellme they had invited you into their bed.”

“Invited is avery polite way of putting it,” she mutters “But I handled it. Ifigured you had enough to deal with, I didn’t want to bother you withit.”

Dirthamen supposeshe can’t really fault her for that. It is good to know she handled iton her own, and was not maliciously keeping secrets from him. Hischest feels strangely lighter with the knowledge. “In thefuture, if there are troubles or more improper encounters like that,I would appreciate being told. It is no bother, I assure you.”

“Alright,”Selene nods. She pauses for several beats before speaking up again,more quietly “I’m sorry about your family.”

Dirthamen panicsbriefly, before Deceit sends him flashes, memories of the encounter.

Ah.

Nothing tooterrible then, at least.

“They are myfamily,” he evades. “You should be more concerned that you wereattacked on the route back.”

“Technically youwere attacked.”

“No,” Dirthameninsists. “The group responsible for the assault at the crossroadslikely knew that I was not inhabiting the body at that time. Theyswitched us, first, so they knew it was you.”

“Why would theywant to hurt me?”

“Perhaps becauseit is known you are close to me. Although that is only knowledgewithin my higher circles which would suggest a leak and thatis…concerning, and requires more strenuous investigation. Orperhaps they simply hoped that it would be easier to destroy my bodyif I were not in it. Then when whatever they put into your body woreoff, I would not have anything to return to.”

“They probablyweren’t wrong,” Selene mumbles, dragging Dirthamen closer to thebed.

“No. It is goodDeceit was with you.”

She sighs as shelays down in the bed, neck and torso elongating as she pulls him downon top of her, arm-like limbs curling around him.

It is aninteresting shift to see this from an outside perspective, he thinks.

“I don’t want youto get hurt,” Selene sighs into the top of his head.

“I will strivenot to,” he promises.

Her breaths beginto even out beneath him, and it does not take long for him torecognize the particular strain of exhaustion surrounding her. Hecurls against her, his own exhaustion at the amount of intimatesocializing he had undertaken with her friends in an attempt to keeptheir cover washing over him.

When he next wakes,he is back to the usual view of the world through the slits of hismask.

He has never beenso grateful to be back in his own body.

#Answered #Body Swap AU #Dirthalene #Selene lavellan #Deceit #Guess who can't even sleep anymore #Anyways here's a fill for...3am.

[allyinthekeyofx]

Fading Light 3/24

Fading Light AllyinthekeyofX PART ONE CHAPTER THREE Somewhere in between making a thousand promises to myself and the breaking of dawn, I must have fallen asleep again, because, as I lay here I can see the brightness of the sun behind my closed lids. I have no idea what the time is, only that it is day where before it was night. But time doesn't really matter to me at the moment because, without even opening my eyes I know he is here beside me. Call it my Mulder radar. To anyone who knows him as well as I do there are subtle but telling clues. A hint of that spicy cologne he wears tickles my nostrils, able to permeate my senses even through the sharp, antiseptic scent of the hospital sheets, sheets which incidentally provide another clue. Mulder has this thing about sheets and blankets, at least where I'm concerned. He is convinced that they should be pulled up almost to my chin and I can't count the number of times I have fallen asleep on his battered couch, only to awaken hours later almost suffocating from the heat. On the one hand I find it intensely annoying that he feels the need to mother me in this way, but, another part of me secretly enjoys his concern. I take comfort from the fact that he cares enough about me to tuck blankets around me when I'm sleeping. But Hospital rooms are temperature regulated and right now I am feeling uncomfortably hot. The sun streaming through the window isn't helping much either. I can also hear him breathing and the sound and cadence tells me whether he is awake or not. I suppose we all have different breathing patterns, but, in all honesty I had never really thought about it much in my pre Mulder existence. Certainly I had never given any credence to the notion that a person could be recognizable by that alone. But then, I have never really taken the time to find out with anyone else and not for the first time I wonder just when I got to know this man so well. When did I allow myself to accept him in to my life so completely? I can no longer imagine a time when Mulder wasn't working beside me and yet it has only been seven years. When did seven years turn in to a lifetime? Hearing a creak as he shifts position slightly in the chair beside me, I strain to keep my eyes closed for just a little while longer. The longer I can keep them closed, the longer I can stall the inevitable confrontation that is surely going to come. I'm not ready to face him. I'm not ready to see the hurt in his face that I am responsible for creating. But, a need to affirm that he is really here beside me outweighs any self imposed guilt and slowly I shrug off the last lingering vestiges of sleep and raise my eyes to meet his. He looks tired. Wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday, rumpled, dishevelled as though he's slept in them. If he's slept at all that is. His strong jaw is darkened by stubble and its presence lends him a dangerous air. I like Mulder with stubble. I always have done, although it would take a thousand armies to drag that particular snippet of information out of me. And, finally I reach the part of him I most need to see. The only piece of him that will tell me what I need to know and as china blue meets hazel I finally find the answer to the question that has been gnawing at me. He knows. I don't need words to tell me. Just his expression is enough to affirm my greatest fears and I know he is shattered inside. Disappointment; rejection; confusion. Hurt. They radiate off him in waves and suddenly my throat feels so tight I am unable to breathe. I have no idea what to say to him. How do I even start? Because a simple apology isn't going to undo this kind of damage. Just by looking at him I realize how stupid I have been. I thought I was protecting him by not telling him. Allowing him the time he needed to process his Mother's death, the revelations about his Sister. Persuading myself that he deserved this chance at peace however brief it might have been. But now I understand that I wasn't doing it to protect only him. I was also trying to protect myself. Protect myself from a man who I know would willingly lay down his life for me. I've known for the longest time that he loves me. What I didn't realize until now is that he is in love with me. This beautiful, complex, irritating, brilliant, vulnerable man is actually in love with me. And that realization scares me more than I can even comprehend, because it will make all this so much harder to deal with. I don't even want to deal with it right now. I'm hurting, I'm tired and all I really want him to do is to put his arms around me and whisper soothing words in my ear. But he doesn't of course. He just sits there making no attempt to move towards me as he keeps his eyes on mine. Unblinking, unwavering as the silence stretches between us, widening the gap that separates us in to a ravine. It's so quiet I can actually hear my own heartbeat inside my chest and for a second I marvel at the fact that a human heart can bear so much pain and still carry on. I want to speak to him, to beg for his forgiveness. Needing so desperately to make him understand why I did what I did, but I just can't open my mouth. If I speak now, the words will be lost in a stream of self pitying tears. Tears which are hovering dangerously close to the surface and which I refuse to subject him to. I've done quite enough damage to him already. In fact, it is Mulder who chooses to speak first. Maybe he sees the pleading in my expression. I don't know. But I silently send up a prayer of thanks as he opts to stick to safe territory. "Hey Scully. How're you feeling?" I shrug noncommittally. In truth I feel like I've been tossed off a very high building and run down a few times by an over enthusiastic truck driver. But to admit that would be weakness, and Dana Scully doesn't show weakness. No Siree. "I'm fine. A little sore that's all." Mulder smirks at my response. I'm sure that after seven years in my company he expects nothing more from me because, after all, it's the only response he ever gets. Gunshot wound? I'm fine. Death of a loved one? I'm fine. Terminal Cancer? Oh yeah I’m just Fine. Doesn't make a difference as to what I'm really feeling when he asks, because the wall around me dictates that I'm always fucking Fine. I hate this part of myself, but I just don't know how to change it. "Good." he ventures uncertainly, reaching forwards to pour water in to the plastic tumbler beside my bed. I haven't asked him for water, hadn't even been aware that my throat feels scratchy and uncomfortable before now. But as he gently places a hand to the back of my neck, drawing me forwards enough to put my lips against the plastic, my thirst is suddenly raging. He is careful as always though; tipping his other hand just enough to allow me small sips of the deliciously cool liquid. Mulder knows all too well the effects of taking too much water after a general anaesthetic. We both do. "I spoke to your Doctor. He seems to think you'll be out of here in a few days. You might need some help when you get out though; might be a good idea to stay with your Mom for a while." I know he means well, but to be honest, as much as I love my Mother, the thought of being around her twenty four hours a day fills me with horror. I don't need mothering right now. I need is space to come to terms with everything in my own way. I drop my eyes from Mulders and busy my hands by plucking at the rough hospital issue blanket. "I think I'd just rather go home. I'll be fine." He doesn't answer me. I don't expect him to I suppose, because we both know that if there's anything in this world I'm not going to be, fine ranks pretty high on the list. My fingers tease harder and I am rewarded when a thread comes loose. Finally I have something to focus on other than Mulders presence beside me. I watch numbly as I wrap the thin piece of white cotton around my index finger, releasing it to scrutinize the fine, white lines that have appeared in its wake disappear as blood once again flows to the area. Within a couple of seconds it is impossible to even determine where the welts were. If only life was that simple. Mulder shifts position again. He has to be uncomfortable. I have no idea how long he has sat there but hospital chairs tend not to be kind to a person's posture, and especially to someone with legs the length of his. The silence is killing me. I want him to say something , anything, because avoiding the issue isn't going to make it go away. I want him to rant and rave at me if that's what he needs to do. And if he hates me now I need to hear it. I know he is holding back for fear of hurting me. That even now he is trying to protect me and I really have no reason to question his motives because, after all, haven't I been doing the exact same thing to him? Talk to him! A voice inside me screams. Make him understand. But I can't. I can't bring myself to even look at him now. I'm not surprised when I hear him rise from the chair. His being here is making both of us uncomfortable and he has the good sense to know it's time for him to leave. "You're tired. I'll come back later." He ventures and I close my eyes, knowing that for now there is nothing more for us to say to each other. I've blown it. Again. He leans down towards me and for a second, I am sure he is going to kiss me. I don't think I could bear that right now and almost against my will, I turn my head slightly away from him, giving him a clearer message than I intended with that simple act of denial. Please don't. He understands my silent plea and so instead, settles for hooking one long finger around an errant strand of my hair which he smoothes gently away from my face. It's a gesture he has performed a hundred times before, but one which now threatens to make me shatter in to tiny pieces in front of him. Feeling his touch reminds me yet again of just how lucky am to have him. He would never intentionally seek to hurt me and despite the things I have done, today is no exception. I don't deserve him. I don't believe I ever have. And then he is gone, leaving only the memory of his touch against my skin which tingles slightly as if charged with low voltage electricity. He heads for the door without looking back, and I am surprised when, at the doorway, he turns slowly, showing me an unguarded view of his desperation. "How long have you known?" I'm tempted to lie to him. Lying would be so easy at this point. Because although I am fully aware that he could, if he wanted, gain access to my personal medical records, I know he would never abuse my trust in that way. But I could lie. Or at least absolve some of the blame from myself by stretching the truth a little. But he deserves so much more than that and it is with this knowledge that I swallow heavily and give him the answer he so desperately needs from me. "A little over six weeks." I swear I see him physically react to my words. He seems to recoil slightly as the full meaning of my admission sinks in. Six weeks of sharing time and space with him. Six weeks of laughing and joking and crying. Six weeks of lying. Six fucking weeks. It might as well be a lifetime. I wait for him to speak, to cross back over to the bed, to ask me why. But he does none of those things. Instead he just nods curtly. "Thank you." And then he is gone, leaving me once again alone. And I know I deserve it. I am hurting inside, scared of what the return of this disease will mean for me. But he is hurting too and I would do anything to take that hurt away from him. Bad enough that I need to suffer. I never intended for him to suffer too. Continued chapter four #fanfic #x files #cancer #fading light

[troubleshooting-phoenix]

Finding my Will to Live

Hello world,

I’ve been going by Phoenix for the last little while, and I don’t see why I would stop now. I’m starting this blog in this moment because my life.... my being... needs troubleshooting.

Recently, as in yesterday, I have regained the will to live. Yes, that means I had previously lost it. That’s a scary thought for most, and probably should be for me, but I’ve spent more years of my life wishing I was dead, than years enjoying I was alive. There’s something fundamentally wrong with that, and therefore, I think I need some troubleshooting. The process has already began, as that’s how I recaptured my will to live in the first place.

This is the story of how I regained my will to live in a day. A well planned and long awaited day.

The story starts with Jacksepticeye. If you don’t know who that is, I feel bad for you! In all seriousness, that is the name of a youtube channel. Feel free to look him up. Otherwise, let me give you the run down. He’s an adorable, loud, Irish man who plays video games, raises money for charity and spreads messages of positivity. With me so far? If not, we’re going to have problems because I’m only going to throw more information about random shit at you.

I feel it’s important to the story to mention that I live in Ottawa, which is the capital of Canada if you didn’t know. I moved here as an “adult” and was raised in a small town... not too far from here. I’m a small town girl, that’s important to know. Another important Phoenix fact, I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. The word disorder is loud and demanding and scary. All it really means is that I’m anxious about a lot of things, all of the time. Over the top, above the normal levels of anxiety.

Those two paragraphs were completely unrelated. I’m super good at this blogging thing. Stay with me though! I mean, you already read this far, you must be some kind of invested.

Recently, Jacksepticeye has started doing live tours. The “How Did We Get Here” tour, which is basically a stand up comedy routine based on his life, with a few gaming elements and an important message. I, as a mildly obsessed fan, was more than a little excited about the idea of being in the same room as him. You know, seeing him in 3D and knowing he’s a real person and not a too-good-to-be-true CGI AI. (No, I’ve never really believed he was an AI, I’ve always KNOWN he was a person. But seeing is believing, right?) Except that during the initial phases of getting this tour up and running, he said he wouldn’t be coming to Canada.

Heartbreaking. None of the youtubers who aren’t already here... seem to want to come to Canada. Like they’re afraid we don’t have internet in our igloos! Or maybe they all share a secret fear of beavers and none of them are willing to admit it. He actually explained why though. Setting up a leg of the tour for Canada would be difficult because he didn’t have any Canadian contacts. Okay, I guess that’s reasonable. I accepted it.

Until the second leg of his tour was announced... and the first show was Toronto. “Toronto?” I thought. “Is there a Toronto in the States?”, as I frantically opened the website only to see, “Toronto, Ontario.”. That is very much a Canadian city. One that is reasonably close to here!

I screamed. Out loud. Like a 13 year old talking about cute boys at a sleepover. I feel the need to admit at this point that I am not a teenage girl... but a 26 year old woman. I imagine my neighbours thought I was being murdered, even though they never came to check on me. Thanks neighbours.

The show was so close though, only about a month away and I need to book time off work, several months in advance. More heartbreak. I had to check though, and pulled up my schedule. I may have screamed again.

Not only did I have the day of the show off, I had the day after it off and worked a day shift, on the day before it! How lucky! It’s almost as if it was meant to be. Of course... there was a problem, as there always is. I would have to get myself to Toronto, and to this show. I have been to Toronto maybe 3 or 4 times in my life, always driven by other people and usually just to the outskirts for Toronto. Like to the zoo. This was very different. This was the city, and I was a small town girl.

So... I convinced a friend who’s originally from the area, that she should come with me, and be my Toronto Sherpa. She agreed, probably because I offered to pay for everything, knowing that she didn’t really have the money for a trip at the moment and I knew... I needed this.

Why did I need this? Simple. Depression. Those words don’t go together by the way. There is nothing simple about depression. I’ve been moderately depressed for the last few months. Again, something I should probably be more concerned about, but depression comes and goes like seasons for me. I was having a lot of trouble snapping myself out of this spell though. This year did not start out well for me, and perhaps some day, I might explain why. The point is... I NEEDED THIS. I had gotten to a point where I was, what I call, passively suicidal. I wasn’t about to end things myself, I just kept hoping I would develop a terminal disease or get hit by a bus. Okay... I REALLY NEEDED THIS.

It wasn’t just about the show. When you are at a point where you hate yourself, and you think you’re worthless, realizing that you made a bunch of plans, got your ass down to Toronto, saw the show you desperately wanted to see, and then got your ass back to Ottawa, without any casualties... is pretty damn liberating. That’s an accomplishment. Maybe not for normal, high functioning adults, but sometimes I have trouble getting out of bed, and doing the dishes feels like a large task. So this trip, nay, this adventure, was a big deal.

I waited in anticipation for those tickets to come sale. However, the tickets were coming on sale on a Friday, at 10am... during a block where I was working overnights. This meant that I would be sleeping at 10am. A tiny anxious voice in the back of my head screamed “He’s doing ONE show in Canada, those tickets might sell out. Wake up at 10am and buy them.” and then a rather annoying adult voice in my head responded with, “If you wake yourself up at 10am, your insomnia means you won’t get back to sleep and then you’ll be awake from 10am to 11pm when you go to work until 7am and everyone and everything will suffer. They won’t sell out THAT fast. It’s fine.”. So I did the adult thing. I waited. At 3pm, I logged on to get tickets that were... already sold out.

Not heartbreaking... devastating. Soul shattering. I did what I usually did. Blamed myself. I allowed myself to get excited. I allowed myself to hope for something. To want something. I knew better than that. Any time I really wanted something, really loved something... life took it from me. My life has taught me to be defensively pessimistic about the world, because then you don’t feel utterly destroyed, when you already wanted to die. I tried to feel it, and then pushed myself to move on.

Days passed, and then there was a tweet. Due to two shows selling out, two extra shows were being added. I caught that tweet 4 minutes after it had been posted, by sheer, dumb luck. “Toronto? Toronto... Toronto... please Toronto!” I pulled up the website. “TORONTO!”. There was no time to celebrate. Tickets sold out fast last time, and I would not allow it to happen again. I opened the site and bought the tickets. Relief... and terror. Now I had to figure out how the hell to get us there...

I’ll admit, I had some help from family who suggested how to get discounts on train tickets, and helping me seek out a nice Air BnB. It took weeks to plan this trip, from getting us there, to where we would sleep that night to how I was going to feed myself, since I’m allergic to pretty much all food.

I did it though. The show was yesterday. We had a magical train ride down to Toronto, took the subway to our Air BnB which was a short walk from the music hall, and we went to the 4 o’clock show. I took him a ridiculous fan gift and everything! Yup, I’m one of THOSE people. I utterly loved the show (I apparently shook violently with excitement the whole time, even though I remember being cool as a cucumber). I’ll probably give some more details of the trip, and maybe some small snippets about the show later...

The point is, I did what I set out to do. I recaptured my will to live. Between the powerful message of the show, spending time escaping from our lives with a good friend, and facing this mighty adventure and actually accomplishing it... I did something. I did something good. I did something RIGHT. I did something FOR ME.

I’m home now and the anxiety is flooding back in like waves, and I’ve already had a few moments where I felt like I was drowning... but I’m fighting harder now. I refuse to sit back and let myself drown now. I’ve just proven to myself that I’m STRONGER than that. Besides, I didn’t get to meet Jack, or get one of his world famous hugs. (He has fans all around the world, I think that’s the definition of “world famous”.) So add that to the list, because I’m not done yet.

I just started wanting to live again. Now I have to figure out exactly how to continue doing that...

The troubleshooting continues.

~ Phoenix

#anxiety #depression #troubleshootinglife #will to live