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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao)

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

#tw trauma #tw death #tw blood #tw injury #tw torture #tw abuse #tw starvation #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks

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mostlymovieswithmax · 3 years

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Movies I watched in September

I skipped a month again. But not to worry. This is a wrap-up of all the movies I watched in the month of September (2021). I think I maintained a steady ratio throughout but perhaps there’s not as much on the list this time because I wanted to get on with other things, be that work-wise or just trying to get out to the beach as much as possible and make the most of the last dregs of summertime. I went swimming in the sea a lot! But I also got to catch the new James Wan movie, Malignant (twice!) as well as the new James Bond, No Time To Die. Not to mention a couple of classics! My hope again with this list is to introduce people to new movies that they may otherwise not have seen or perhaps have never have heard of. These short reviews are my own subjective opinions on each individual movie. I’m thinking maybe a more informal approach to movie criticism can help include others who are just passing through. So here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 30th of September.

Fanny and Alexander (1982) - 8/10

Coming from Ingmar Bergman, I was surprised to see just how warm this was. I’m a big fan of the Swedish director and while this isn’t my favourite from him (perhaps due to it needing a second watch, or the fact I watched it in three chunks because it’s about three hours long and I overestimated how much time I had in the day) it’s still an interesting departure from what I’ve come to expect from him. Fanny and Alexander is a dreamy Christmassy movie that presents an overarching theme of love, spending a large portion of its runtime just hanging out with this big family on Christmas and showing how close they are. I would love to watch this again at some point in December and see how my opinion shifts but for now, while it could meandre in places, I can’t deny how unique a movie it is.

Another Round (2021) - 10/10

I had seen Thomas Vinterberg’s latest film before this point but this was the first time I got to see it in a cinema. Luckily for me my local independent cinema was showing it one night and while they had a few technical hiccups with setting everything up, the movie itself was still fantastic. Following a handful of school teachers who experiment with whether they can maintain a certain level of blood alcohol throughout the day, Another Round demonstrates a sense of unease and sadness throughout an otherwise comedic tone. These emotions are balanced perfectly, boosting an already intriguing concept that examines our relationship with alcohol from every angle.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021) - 4/10

Straight after Another Round, I made my way to the chain cinema to meet up with friends to see the new Marvel movie. At this point, having had my second dose of the Covid vaccine that morning, I was starting to feel the effects and I was not doing well. But I watched the movie anyway, all the while wanting to be in bed. Shang-Chi was massively underwhelming and I’d go as far as to say it was even incompetent. Truth be told, I like the Marvel Cinematic Universe but from the get-go I already wasn’t hyped for this movie and I was expecting it to be about mediocre but what I got was something a lot worse. I won’t rehash what I’ve already said on this film so if you want to hear me rant about it a bit then I would recommend checking out episode 47 of my podcast, The Sunday Movie Marathon.

Your Name. (2016) - 6/10

Ultimately this was a fun little romance movie but I can’t say I understand why people adore it, nor do I understand why it needed to be animated. For what it’s worth, I found it cute and entertaining but nothing much jumped out to me.

Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang (2021) - 7/10

I’m always stumped on what to say about stand-up shows. It was good! I enjoyed Phil Wang talking about different things in a funny way and it got some laughs out of me. Admittedly I’m writing this a couple of weeks after watching it but it’s certainly a decent way to spend an hour if you’re looking for something light and fun.

The Lego Batman Movie (2017) - 6/10

I remember seeing this in the cinema with two of my friends and the theatre wasn’t exactly packed but those that were there were either children or parents. But I like The Lego Batman Movie! Clearly this was made by fans of the character as it’s packed with a lot of details and references from old comic runs but as someone who has never read the comics or seen those older movies, it still managed to be entertaining and while I won’t say it’s quite as good as The Lego Movie, the animation is still top notch and the voice actors are certainly giving it their all, especially Will Arnett as the titular character. It’s just a bit of fun!

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) - 10/10

A friend of mine told me to go to the screening of Terminator 2 at my local because they themselves weren’t able to attend. The first Terminator movie is a real gem and one of the most 80’s-type movies I’ve ever seen. I was excited to watch T2, remembering next to nothing about what I watched of it when I was a child. So it was just me in this screening, with one person in a row in front of me, and one other person behind me. If I had it my way, I would have been the only person there because this is honestly one of the best movies I’ve ever seen and it was very hard not to yell out every time something incredible happened, especially when it’s so action-packed and basically goes all out at every opportunity to deliver some of the most jaw-dropping effects or choreography. Truly there is never a dull moment and I was grinning like a lunatic the entire time. This film rocks!

Mirror (1975) - 7/10

Andrei Tarkovsky is one of my favourite directors and the new Criterion release of his film, Mirror, had been on my shelf for a while. My friend and fellow podcast co-host, Chris, was also interested in watching this movie so we decided we’d give it a watch and review it on the podcast. But this is such a weirdly structured film that the entire way through, neither of us knew what on earth was happening. What we got from the experience is reflected in the episode we made and I would love to watch this again at some point, hopefully with more context and a better understanding of what I’m in for. But in the meantime, you can hear the discussion on episode 46 of the podcast.

The Night House (2021) - 6/10

The Night House is David Bruckner’s follow-up to his previous movie, The Ritual and while I’ll say I prefer The Ritual, this is still a decent watch, just don’t go in expecting horror. More of my thoughts can be found in episode 46 of the podcast.

The Ritual (2017) - 7/10

After watching The Night House, I decided to go back to the director’s previous film, The Ritual and I got a lot more out of it this time around. Themes of guilt and grief permeate the movie and the result is this weird and unnerving film about a group of guys who go hiking in Sweden after the death of one of their friends and encounter dark forces beyond their comprehension. It can be drawn out at times and probably could have been boosted with a better script but there are so many interesting and strange ideas presented that culminate in a haunting third act that it’s worth watching just to see what on earth they’re being hunted by.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) - 10/10

Straight after recording an episode about our favourite movies on the podcast, I returned to one of my all-time favourites. Holy Grail is such a fantastically funny movie with so many memorable lines and moments that it’s become a staple in the comedy genre. Setting it in Arthurian England is a surefire way to make sure it stands the test of time, making use of the budget in a way that heightens the comedy, for example: not being able to get horses and so resorting to having a man banging two coconut halves together as they skip through the grassy terrain. It’s the writing that really takes centre stage here; the guys from Monty Python were/are geniuses. A couple more points were made on my podcast so please do listen to that to hear more: Episode 46 of The Sunday Movie Marathon

Malignant (2021) - 7/10

The new James Wan movie was bonkers! I saw this one twice in quick succession without hesitation. To find out why I love it so much, listen to episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) - 8/10

We got a marathon of the first three Nightmare on Elm Street movies on the podcast so we watched them in quick succession within a day. This first movie is a true masterpiece of its time. For more insight, listen to episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985) - 2/10

Quite an embarrassing departure from the genius and fun of the original. Elm Street 2 is not only technically unfulfilling but a wholly unentertaining movie to boot. More thoughts in episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987) - 3/10

While only a few hairs better than its predecessor, Elm Street 3 is still a mere shadow of the original. All in all, these second and third instalments in the franchise have put me off watching any of the others. More thoughts in episode 47 of the podcast.

Her (2013) - 10/10

Her is at once a beautiful love story between a man and an AI, and a scarily accurate look at how technology is expanding and moving forward. It uses warm colours and smooth camera work to create something that feels homely and safe, juxtaposing the often cold and dark feeling of science-fiction films to tell an intrinsically human story. What would it be like to go through this and what are the hurdles that need to be overcome? Her is a masterpiece of filmmaking and it left me emotionally exhausted in all the right ways.

Alien (1979) - 10/10

First time I’ve seen Alien in the cinema (as I was too busy not being born yet to see it on an initial release) and it was amazing! This is cosmic horror at its best. With all the eerie sound design, slow and deliberate camera movement, and outstanding effects, there’s no wonder as to why this is considered one of the greats and seeing it on the big screen was enthralling.

Aliens (1986) - 8/10

I had never seen Aliens before so the opportunity to see it for the first time in a cinema was one I could not pass up, especially since I was able to see it straight after the first. This is more of an action movie than the first one and as that, it was really something to see. While I don’t think it quite measures up to the original, James Cameron does bring a style to it that makes it something completely different while still feeling in line with its predecessor. A problem I’ve found as time goes on is that I don’t find myself thinking much about Aliens whatsoever and that’s probably down to its characters who generally I found quite weak. I’m already not big on standard action flicks and this is a clear cut above those but it does still fall victim to the trappings. That being said, I would in no way call this bad or even mediocre because it was a lot fun and being able to see it in the cinema is an experience I’m very grateful for.

Gunpowder Milkshake (2021) - 6/10

Gunpowder Milkshake is trying very hard to be John Wick and although it never really manages it, there is still fun to be had with its action (because really that’s all this movie has to offer). There’s a very creative scene in which Karen Gillan has to fight some goons in a hospital with a gun taped to one hand and a scalpel taped to the other, with the caveat being that her arms don’t work. Despite that and a good enough performance from Gillan, the rest is very goofy, with a villain about as intriguing as an advert for life insurance and a story that to say the least, leaves much to be desired.

I Lost My Body (2019) - 10/10

Another one for the podcast, I Lost My Body is a glorious cerebral animated piece that hits every nerve in my body. Listen to episode 48 for more.

Alice In Wonderland (1951) - 10/10

Perhaps the best early Disney movie in my humble opinion. Alice In Wonderland is complete insanity, doing things simply for the sake of it in a beguiling dreamlike take on Lewis Carroll’s classic book. Listen to episode 48 of The Sunday Movie Marathon for more.

WALL-E (2008) - 9/10

WALL-E is one of Pixar’s best. It is a cautionary tale of where the world is headed wrapped in a sweet story about going to the ends of the solar system in order to help those you love. I do however have one big problem with this movie and you can find out more in episode 48 of the podcast.

Killing Them Softly (2012) - 6/10

A lot about America’s economy at the time, Killing Them Softly goes about showing the lengths people will go to for money and yes it is generally solid with a fantastic speech by Brad Pitt to cap it off, but it cannot avoid meandering scenes of listless dialogue that neither engage me nor make me care about the characters it presents.

The Dirties (2013) - 6/10

Funny! The Dirties is a mockumentary about two guys making a movie about bullies in their school. While often it was generally chugging along and making me laugh, it tended to err on the side of plain as regards its presentation. A lot of scenes happen for the sake of it and in a movie that’s around an hour and twenty, it’s amazing I still managed to dip out in the latter half. More thoughts in episode 49 of the podcast.

Telstar: The Joe Meek Story (2009) - 3/10

Ah, I really hated this. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. Just listen to episode 49 of the podcast to hear what I had to say.

Blade Runner 2049 (2017) - 10/10

This is my favourite movie! I got to talk about it on my podcast! Listen to episode 49 of The Sunday Movie Marathon to hear what I have to say!

No Time To Die (2021) - 8/10

Best Bond movie? Perhaps. I’ve not seen every Bond movie but of the ones I have seen (which does include all of Daniel Craig’s run), this is as good as it gets. Despite a near three hour runtime, No Time To Die felt as though it wasted very little. I’ve always complained that I could never follow the plot to these movies because often I simply didn’t care about it; for me it’s more about the action and seeing Daniel Craig be James Bond. No Time To Die does not escape some of the general tropes that often don’t leave me thinking I’ve watched something masterful but what I will say in its favour is that it’s fucking fun! Don’t expect to love it if you already dislike these movies because generally it stays in the same vein as the others before it, but for Bond fans it’s something totally enjoyable. Captivating cinematography, biting fight choreography and action set-pieces, a core struggle for James who actually goes through relatable hardships his time round, coping with being part of a family and trying to keep them safe.

I was happy to see a bit more attention paid to female characters this go round; in a franchise that often glamorizes Bond’s sexual promiscuity and ability to woo any woman he likes, it was much more refreshing to see that he often did need help from a lot of badass, well written female characters.

No Time To Die has been waiting to be released for a long time now and now it’s actually out, I’m pleased it’s not hot garbage. In fact, quite the opposite is true. The final swan song for Craig’s fifteen-year tenure as one of cinema’s most recognisable heroes outdoes all that came before it. Bravo.

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raeloganthesonic06fangirl · 3 years

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So it looks like Quackerjack is your fave but I'd like to ask what you think about Negaduck! Actually, TBH I just wanted to share this headcanon with someone: his mask isn't a mask at all, it's just the pattern of his feathers. (But please still share your thoughts about Negaduck if you have any.) Love your blog!

An interesting headcanon! I always like seeing people get creative with working different types of duck patterns into these characters. 🤩

On to the second piece of the question~

Well, to be honest, I have to admit that Negaduck was probably one of my favorites as a kid because I just have this interest in characters who are either clones, evil twins or alternate universe versions of the main characters. A cheesy cliché these days, I know, but there's something so intriguing and oddly charming to me about Evil Twin characters who either have the most unnecessary additions to thier designs to differentiate them from the main character, or just a color change or subtle marking detail to make them stand out

((I really think this trend peaked in the 90s to mid 2000s, and I really do miss it being done without some stuck up critic taking the mick out of it; it used to be fun to see and I like chase varient toys that came of this style))

Negaduck as a character is pretty cool. He's got an edgy-ish design (with bright harsh colors, sharp teeth and the tendency to whip out any type of weapon he needs, be it a knife or a freaking bazooka). Also, being voiced by legendary Jim Cummings is a bonus, particularly his "mean and evil" voice style. It's iconic, it's equal parts amusing as it is unnerving.

All around, I quite like Negaduck

Enough to want to collect some toys and related merch, obviously:

((Would you believe that I STILL haven't been able to get a Darkwing Funko Pop yet? In fact, he and Launchpad are the only two I need to get to finish the set, sans Glow-in-the-Dark Megavolt))

I like how the original series really didn't hold back on delivering slapstick on him. There always seemed to be a balance of comeuppance between him being devious little snot, and getting plowed into the ground once a plan backfires (which I don't think he really was able to get away with anything, so, status quo).

But, something that really bothers me is how he was able to basically psychologically torture his underlings without much repercussion, and that he had Negaverse counterparts of his team scared witless of him without much explanation as to why that is, other than I can assume that he's probably very good at gaslighting, because there's really no other reason why this group of three mutants and a lunatic couldn't have overpowered him

Negaduck, like QuackerJack, has no powers at all. But Bushroot, Liquidator and Megavolt are fully capable of killing a guy, and even QuackerJack has proven capable of ripping apart metal with his bare hands (as well has continually displayed bouts of seemingly adrenaline fueled strength, being able to fling a Herb Muddlefoot clear across the room, when a Herb easily outweighs a QuackerJack), so it's very odd that any time the quartet attempts to overthrow Negaduck, they IMMEDIATELY cower back in it 99% of the time the moment Negaduck shoots them a glare.

I'm not so much a fan of Negaduck's portrayal in the comic continuation, mostly because of this one plot point here that really acts as the catalyst for a majority of the arcs to even fall in place, and I really don't like that it has to happen:

Negaduck destroying Mr. Banana Brain, then throwing the pieces back at QuackerJack while insulting the jester duck's aptitude and personality. I feel like this was a little uncharacteristic for Negaduck to single out QuackerJack in particular, and he's never once even paid attention to MBB.

In fact, prior to Negaduck's decimation of the original MBB, QuackerJack seemed to be actively seeking recognition/approval from Negaduck while Negaduck either remained aloof to the attempts, or outright displaying annoyance at QuackerJack's loud personality.

((A lot of these shots are from the same episode, but I really like these key frames of QuackerJack trying to be a good little underling, he looks almost childlike in his enthusiasm.))

In short, I really prefer the original series version of Negaduck over the continuation Negaduck, on account of the original was more like a cocky bully that got retribution dished back to him by the end of the episodes anyway, where as the comic Negaduck was unnecessarily cruel for the sake of the evulz, IMO

Now, Jim Starling, on the other hand...

I am 100% invested in this idea and he has yet to do anything particularly vile that can't be redeemed from.

Except maybe possibly giving the in-universe actor for QuackerJack a clear back injury while filming a stunt

I say "possibly" because it's not confirmed nor recognized as canon and its purely speculation on my part, but that does look like it was a nasty ouch. 👀

Also, thank you for the nice words about my blog~ 💜

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creepy-spooghetti · 3 years

Text

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 6- I’m Awake, I’m Alive

Most of that day is spent keeping herself busy and distracted with various things; reading, sketching, scrolling through YouTube and hoping to find something entertaining. Even over the course of several hours, her message to the unknown number has yet to be answered, but she never really expected it to be. And there’s always the chance that it wasn’t ever meant for her; perhaps they were trying to reach another Y\n.

It would be a big coincidence, but not one totally unbelievable. More likely than not though, it’s just some kid pulling a cheap prank. And she chooses to chalk it up to that exact thing. At around four-thirty in the evening, she decides to go downstairs and find something to eat, while also conversing a bit with her grandparents in an attempt to get rid of some of the unseen tension between the three of them.

The news that Darcy and Marvin were murdered and that her cousin is missing, likely dead and decaying in the woods somewhere, is still sinking in, and she assumes it will for quite a while yet. Something like that can’t just be brushed aside as if it’s completely meaningless, or at least, that’s what Y\n thought. But her careless father managed to do it. Impressive or just incredibly cold-hearted? A little bit of both, in her opinion.

She sees her grandmother in the kitchen, pulling a pan of something out of the oven, its sweet, enticing aroma traveling through the air and drifting up to her nose, therefore drawing her interest. She catches herself wandering into the room, recognizing the scent slightly though not wanting to outright assume anything. Nana turns, noticing Y\n’s abrupt appearance and looking almost surprised as she pulls the oven mitt off of her hand.

“Hi, dear,” she says, keeping her voice mellow and pointing at the stovetop. “I made cookies.” Ah, cookies. The first thing that’s sounded appetizing since breakfast, and that’s been hours ago. Her stomach rumbles mildly from within the confines of her torso, and only now does she realize how hungry that she’s quickly starting to become. Perhaps a couple of cookies can ease that for a bit longer until she feels like eating something more filling.

“Oh.” She steps closer to get a better view, tilting her head to the side curiously. “What kind?”

“Oatmeal chocolate chip. Your old favorite, remember?” Recalling the distant memories of her childhood self stuffing her face with the delightful treat without a care in the world makes her want to laugh, despite the constant nagging in her gut and the aching in her chest. God, I was so naive.

“Yeah, I remember,” she replies, a ghost of a smile sweeping over her face for the briefest of moments before being replaced by an eager expression as she takes another whiff of the cookies. “They smell so good.” Nana releases a small chuckle and shakes her head.

“I’m glad. Dig in, I made them especially for you.”

“Ah, you didn’t have to do that.” She meets the woman’s gaze with a sincere one of her own, knowing in the back of her mind that she only made them to act as a sort of comfort food for Y\n, and though she’s greatly appreciative, the idea of being pitied doesn’t sit well with her. Still, she won’t say anything about it. Nana did it solely out of compassion and love for her, and she isn’t going to reject that.

“Of course I did.” Her hand finds its way to the girl’s shoulder and squeezes it affectionately. “You’re only here for a few weeks. I have to make sure you know how much we love you.”

“I already do know, Nana.” Her voice is uncharacteristically soft as she looks to Farrah, touched at what the lady’s saying and trying to figure out how her father could have straight-up abandoned her without blinking an eye. “I don’t need cookies just to realize that.”

“Come here, baby,” she says, reaching her arms out and wrapping them around Y\n’s b\s frame in a gentle, caring embrace. The h\c leans into her, snaking her own arms around her but squeezing a bit more softly, relishing in the warmth of her grandmother’s hug. She knows that this is a temporary comfort; once her parents come back and she leaves, she likely won’t be returning until after she’s eighteen. That’s too long for her to wait. What if something terrible happens while she’s gone, like what took place at her cousin’s house just a couple of years ago?

She wouldn’t know how to react. Every emblem of love that’s left within her family can be found here, in this quaint household, and she isn’t ready to lose that. Especially since she only just rediscovered it. Nuzzling her face in the nook between Nana’a shoulder and neck, she squeezes her eyes shut and savors this feeling, fighting the tears threatening to form. She won’t cry and worry her; she has enough stress surrounding her as it is. The last thing Y\n wants is to be the cause of stress, for both of her grandparents.

A minute passes and Nana leisurely pulls away, grabbing a paper plate and napkin from off the counter and handing it to Y\n. At first, she thinks that maybe the napkin’s to wipe away tears that, unbeknownst to her, are slipping down her cheeks, though after she’s flashed with a sweet smile and Nana nods toward the tray of cookies, she realizes what it’s for and takes both from her hold. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, dear.” Y\n carefully picks up two of the cookies from the pan, being extra cautious so she doesn’t get burnt, and places them on the paper surface in her hand. She then grabs a glass of milk and heads to the living room, seeing Pops sitting in his chair, seemingly content as he watches reruns of Full House on the TV. Nervousness swivels in the depths of her chest, and she eases her way toward the couch, knowing that there’s likely to be a bit of anxiety lingering in the air between them since their conversation this morning.

Her throat, at this point, feels much better than it had previously, and she’s hopeful that no real damage was done to it during her unnerving, confusing spell of agony earlier. By tomorrow, maybe she’ll be able to talk in her regular voice without having the slightest twinge of pain in the back. She sets her glass on the coffee table, pretending not to notice the way her grandpa side-eyes her every few seconds, as if apprehensive about something.

Her eyes travel to look at the TV screen, trying to seem more interested in the show currently playing than she really is, until she can’t handle the pressure on her shoulders to just say something, break the ice in some way. Meeting his eyes timidly, she finally speaks, her tone honest. “Pops… I hope you know that I’m not mad at you for anything. I really do appreciate you telling me what happened.”

“Oh darlin’, I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you.” He twists around in his chair slightly to face her. “I know that news like that, especially after having just got here, has to be difficult to comprehend.” She shrugs solemnly as Nana makes her appearance, taking a seat beside her on the couch with her own cookies and milk held in her hands.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine.” Though her voice is disheartened, her facial expression is earnest as she takes a small bite of her cookie, a wave of nostalgia hitting her as she does so. “It can’t be harder on me than it is you guys. I’m sorry that happened.” She doesn’t see the sorrowful look that her grandparents share with each other before moving their attention on her, once again.

“We are too, Y\n,” Farrah says, lacking any better words as she pats her back comfortably. Y\n, after another drawn-out silence, wants nothing more than to just find a different subject to talk about so everybody in this house won’t feel so sad. Taking a sip of her milk, she glances at Pops.

“...So what season is this?” The question is directed at the TV show flashing across the screen, and he answers soon enough.

“Four.”

“What episode?”

“Eight, I think.”

“Ah. So DJ’s going on her ‘crash diet’.” He nods. She remembers aspects of the show quite well, having watched it constantly as a young kid and having a very distinctive crush on Jesse, though she hasn’t seen it in years so she isn’t 100% knowledgeable on everything about it. Episode 8 was fairly popular, though, so she’s able to recall certain details about it that she can’t about others. She doesn’t leave the living room again for another four and a half hours, using this time to visit with them and enjoying their enlightening company.

She can feel her eyelids start to droop as the sun begins its slow descent behind the trees, the bright silver moon replacing its glorious rays of light with something more gentle but just as majestic, soon accompanied by thousands of glimmering stars that pepper themselves all in the sky. Glancing out through the window to her right, she’s able to see a fluffy, white, and grey lump sitting on a chair outside and grooming itself, and she stands, going toward the front door to grant him entrance.

Once it’s open, his head shoots up and he stares at her a moment before hopping down and rubbing against her legs as he walks inside. She reaches down toward him and he briefly stands on his hind legs, bumping his head into her palm in greeting as she shuts the door. “Hey, Marshmallow,” she says, voice quiet. As expected, he soon walks away from her, in search of his food bowl, and she rolls her eyes, and her gaze trails back into the living room. Nana gets to her feet, releasing a yawn and running her fingers through her thin, grey hair. “Are you going to bed?”

“Yes, I am. Phil and I have to get up early and go to the store tomorrow to buy groceries.” Y\n’s lips form an “o” shape as she leans against the doorframe, fiddling with her fingers absentmindedly. “Will you be okay here alone for a little while?” A mildly concerned expression forms across Nana’s face. “Or do you want to come with us?”

Y\n thinks it over a second. She really doesn’t feel like going anywhere, but then again she could help them out and spend quality time with them. But she’d be in public. What if she were to have another coughing fit? Not only would it draw loads of attention, but it would make her grandparents frantic. She definitely doesn’t want that; they’ve got enough to worry about as it is. Not giving herself any more time to consider against staying home, she shakes her head lightly. “N-no, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m used to staying home alone anyways.” Nana looks a bit hesitant, though doesn’t further argue the point and instead nods.

“Alright. If you say so.” She pulls her in for a quick hug, which Y\n eagerly returns. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Call if you need anything.”

“You, too.” She watches as Farrah walks slowly up the stairs, going over what she’s going to preoccupy herself with, both tonight and tomorrow. She doesn’t want to go back to sleep for fear of having another nightmare, this one even more horrendous and bone-chilling than the last one. What’s her mind going to predict next? Marshmallow falling from the roof and dying? Her grandma slipping on mud and breaking her arm? She’s afraid of whatever it will be, which is why she’s decided to stay awake tonight for as long as possible.

She’s going to go to sleep at some point, whether she likes it or not, that much is inevitable. She just wants to delay that process for as long as possible. After all, how hard can it be? She’s pulled all-nighters before. All she has to do is participate in mind-jogging activities. Nothing relaxing like music, or tea, or reading. Things like sketching, or exercising, or listening to Jacksepticeye and Markiplier play horror games on full volume.

Then again, maybe horror games aren’t the best things to watch in her lowkey paranoid state. Perhaps she should instead watch things like babies falling asleep while eating an ice cream cone, or kittens playing with each other, or memes about the Avengers. Something entertaining and yet energizing at the same time. She turns to go put the cookies away so they won’t get stale sitting out, and as she does so, Pops switches the TV off, rises from his seat, and walks toward her, likely to inform her that he’s following his wife to bed.

"I'm gonna go to bed too, hummingbird." Yup. She thinks as he pats her on the shoulder. "Sweet dreams. Love you."

"Love you, too. Goodnight," she says, watching him walk away and up the stairs after Nana. If only I could actually have sweet dreams. She stretches the plastic wrap over the plate of cookies and begins to walk out of the kitchen, though not before switching the overhead light off and grabbing a stick of string cheese from the fridge to snack on while she finds something to do. Watch TV? Maybe there's something good on. But that may disturb Nana and Pops' sleep, so she decides against it. She takes her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through her Tumblr blog, a small smile stretching across her face each time she reads a supportive comment about her 'amazing' art skills.

She originally logged into Tumblr a couple of years ago, whenever her parents refused to give her constructive criticism, or any criticism at all, in fact, about her paintings, so one day she just gave up and turned to the internet. At the time, most of her friends had Tumblr blogs, so she figured, why not join in? So she began posting artwork that she did, and within a month's time, she had over a thousand followers. Way more than she ever expected to get.

Her last picture was posted on the 21st of June, one week before she was hauled all the way across two different states and dropped off at her grandparents' house without a second thought. Not that she can complain now, though. Her grandparents love her way more than her actual parents do, she's sure of it. And even if she's wrong, it would be nice to hear the words 'I love you' come from their mouths every once in a while. But she supposes she just isn't that lucky.

Marshmallow emerges from the darkened dining room, just having eaten his supper and likely ready for a long, relaxing nap. He hops onto the couch and kneads the cushion with his claws before slinking onto her thighs, curling into a fuzzy ball, and closing his eyes. Her hand finds its way to his head and she strokes softly, able to feel his body vibrate against her legs as he purs in content. She scrolls through notifications, watches YouTube compilations (on low volume as to not wake Nana and Pops), and plays games like Among Us and Agar.io until her phone battery is at 2% and the screen is dimmed to the lowest possible setting by default.

She looks at the time in the top right corner, now finding that it's 12:29 at night. Her charger is all the way upstairs, and to get to it she would have to disturb the resting feline. He's shuffled about and changed positions a couple of times during the past four hours, but has overall slept peacefully. With a defeated sigh, she drops her hand-held device next to her on a pillow and throws her head back, leaning into the couch cushions and staring up at the ceiling. Now that she has nothing to do but sit here in silence, she can't stop the giant wave of thoughts, questions, and concerns from hitting her and boosting her anxieties.

So many things seemed to have already happened in the mere four days that she's been here, ranging from mild and questionable to utterly fear-inducing or depressing. For starters, the terrible dreams she's been having almost every night? Or the way her latest dream basically predicted what she was going to be told only a day later? How about the random coughing fit, or the way Jack seemed to just disappear out of thin air? All these incidents plus some have her aching to know more, but at the same time, she's scared to know more. She has no clue what's happening. Maybe a bad case of allergies?

Yeah, right. Allergies don't predict the future or make weird men in white masks stare at you from the woods. She feels her eyelids grow heavy once more, though she shakes her head and bumps her temple with the heel of her hand to keep herself from becoming drowsy. You can not afford to go to sleep, right now. Her eyes land on a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, and she blinks, focusing perhaps a little too hard on it as she tries to see a spider or any other living creature nestled inside, but fails to.

She studies it for so long that her vision becomes blurry and the only thing she can center her attention on is that same cobweb. Random ideas pop up in her mind, thoughts that would normally be considered strange by individuals who get enough sleep at night, but they're only intriguing to Y\n. How long has the web been there? Did its weaver die? Did it once protect thousands of baby spiders until they hatched? Could she reach up and touch it if she were standing on a piece of furniture?

Before she can even comprehend it, her eyes are fluttering closed and she's drifting off into an alleviating sleep. At least, she would have been, had her body not jolted awake right beforehand and left her heart beating wildly within her chest from the sudden adrenaline rush she just experienced. Glancing around, she quickly recalls where exactly she is and releases a huff from her nose, raking a hand through her hair. Oh yes, what a classic. Falling from a building and waking up before you hit the ground. How exciting.

Her abrupt movements shake Marshmallow and he, too, wakes from his deep sleep, looking a bit alarmed before letting out a yawn, his white canines on full display for the shortest of moments before he rests his head on his paws, once more. Y\n slides her hands beneath his small body, however, and lifts him up, kissing his cheek preparatory to laying him on a particularly soft-looking pillow on her right. "Sorry, buddy. I've gotta get up before I go to sleep, too."

He shoots her a dissatisfied scowl and curls his tail in front of his eyes as if telling her he doesn't want to even look at her. She turns to head upstairs, albeit quietly, stopping by the bathroom to relieve her screaming bladder on her way to her bedroom. As she steps out from behind the door and turns off the light, though, she catches sight of her father's old room, the door shut for some peculiar reason. They probably just didn't want to be reminded that their once loving son left them behind without a care in the world.

Knowing she has better things to do than peer into a bit of her joke of a father's childhood, she lets out the tiniest of scoffs and goes to her own room, unable to ease the bit of pain that forms in her chest as she does so. The woman that this room used to belong to is gone. Dead. Out of the picture. This room will always hold a part of her in it. It shows what her personality was like back when she was Y\n's age, and beyond that. It's a sad and difficult revelation to come to, but Y\n bites the inside of her cheek and keeps the tears at bay. She doesn't want to cry, not right now. She just wants to avoid another scare that will take five more years off of her life. How does she do that? She refuses to sleep.

Although, when one doesn't rest for long periods of time, they can suffer hallucinations. Y\n does not want to suffer from hallucinations, but she supposes that at least she would know that they aren't real. They're merely figments of her imagination. Like that masked figure at the edge of the forest. Or the weird buzzing in her head. Heck, maybe Jack isn't even real. How else would he vanish without a trace? Or get black sludge on her face from what was supposed to have been a nosebleed? It's all a bit too baffling for her, so she just chooses to go with the most simple and less mind-boggling explanation; they were hallucinations. Granted, very vivid hallucinations, but hallucinations nonetheless.

It wouldn't be too far of a stretch. She hasn't been getting enough sleep lately, that on top of lacking a social life, her pathetically bad parents, and discovering three of her closest family members are gone would give just about any person mental strain. She grabs her sketchbook from her backpack, considering the blank canvas sitting inside a moment before disregarding the thought. Making some terribly-drawn pictures should keep her busy for a couple of hours more.

Her stomach rumbles, signifying that it's empty and wants something that will actually fill it up, and as she passes the kitchen after walking back down the stairs, sketchbook, and pencils in hand, her mind wanders. What could she eat that is both appetizing and satisfactory, that wouldn't take forever to make, and that wouldn't cause unnecessary racket? Nothing that she can think of. That string cheese appealed to her just fine. The same clearly can't be said for her stomach.

Perhaps she just isn't in the mood nor the mindset to care about eating anything else for the time being, but oh well. A bit of hunger never hurt anyone, right? She inwardly curses herself when she realizes that she forgot to grab her phone charger from her room while she was there, and now she'd have to trek all the way back up the stairs just to get it. She does not feel like she has the energy at the moment to do such a thing, but would she rather have a dead phone? What good is that? It isn't like I have people to contact, anymore. Or who contact me.

But what if her parents were to try and get ahold of her about something, but she wasn't available? What if one of them got in a car accident, or their trip got canceled and they were going to be returning tomorrow? Wouldn't she want to be notified of something like that? They're both highly doubtful scenarios, but they're a possibility, if only minor ones. "Agh, fine." She grumbles to herself, laying her things on the coffee table and spinning around to, once again, walk up the staircase that just seems to get longer each time she conquers it, going into her bedroom and being thankful that the lamp sitting on the desk is switched on to provide comforting light.

She unplugs the cord from the outlet and wraps it messily around her hand, being careful not to get it tangled. Tangled wires are the worst, every modern-era kid would agree. Especially earplugs. Once they're twisted and knotted, it either takes hours of work trying to fix and get them straightened out—valuable time most people don't have to waste—or spend more money buying a new set. Sure, she's never really had a problem with that whole money issue, but it's still frustrating because oftentimes she never has a ride and is forced to walk all the way to the store in order to buy a new pair, either that or wait a week for the ones from Amazon to be delivered. And who wants to do that?

Perceiving the fact that she just had a mental rant solely about tangled earbud wires, she snorts quietly and shakes her head in disbelief. God, I really am going crazy. She's about to head back toward the living room but stops in her tracks and instead averts her gaze outside, to the darkness blanketing the house in an eerie aura. She isn't sure what possesses her to do it in the first place, all she knows is that she leans in closer to the window, her eyes scanning the area as if looking for something. What that 'something' is, she hasn't a clue.

Just as she's about to give up and look away, she spots it. At the edge of the treeline, shrouded partly by bushes, is some sort of lanky figure. Maybe it looked too much like an actual tree that she easily looked over it the first few times, but now, it's like she can't take her eyes away. A familiar buzzing sound wraps around her mind as she has a one-sided staring contest with this... thing. Or is it really one-sided? She can't make out many details simply because it's too dark, but it looks to be wearing a formal outfit of some kind. Perhaps a suit? Its skin looks white almost, but that could also be the silvery beams from the moon shining down and reflecting off of it in a way that lacks any color.

Her chest tightens and her breathing quickens as she finally forces herself away, blinking frantically and rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. Another hallucination, that's all it is. There is nothing out there but nature, nothing scary at all. She's fine, she's only imagining it. That's what she repeats in her head, over and over for the next thirty seconds before willing herself to look outside, again, purely out of curiosity. To confirm what she's tried convincing herself.

The droning disappears from her mind, and she's more than relieved when she sees nothing but trees. No boogyman in the bushes, no lanky beast lurking behind the trees and waiting to murder her. It's fine. Rolling her eyes, she exits the room and walks back downstairs, into the living room. Marshmallow is still lying on the pillow, probably asleep by now, and she steps quietly to the couch, fitting the charger into an outlet nearby before plugging the other end into her phone and setting it back on the table.

She tries to get comfortable, sitting on the soft surface and resting her back against its arm. Her legs stretch out, though not all the way so she doesn't bump the fluffy feline and for the third time that night, disrupt his sleep. The lighting in the room is gentle and soothing, but still helpful, and it allows her to see the sketchpad propped in her hands and resting against her slightly bent legs fairly well. She takes a 6B pencil and begins tracing dainty lines across the paper, forming a mental image of what she wants to draw and slowly bringing it to life.

The hours pass by expeditiously as she creates one drawing after another, not particularly satisfied with any of them but just content that she found something to both keep her awake and entertained. Though try as she might, she just can't keep the drowsiness at bay for more than a few minutes at a time. She could make coffee. That has loads of caffeine. Caffeine keeps people awake, right? But she doesn't ever remember seeing either of her grandparents drinking it. Odd. Most of her old friends' grandparents and parents alike drank coffee all the time, for either work or just out of habit. Isn't coffee a known drink for older people?

Maybe Nana and Pops just don't like it. She supposes it is quite an acquired taste; she's tried it on multiple occasions and it wasn't exactly satisfactory, but it had a strong flavor. That's what she needs. But if her grandparents don't drink it, what can she get? Tea? No, people drink that specifically to relax. She wants to be anything but relaxed. Her breathing and heart rate slows steadily, and she loses her train of thought. Soda. Soda could work. It's tasty and it hypes you up, which is exactly what she desires.

She mentally screams at her body to get up, to move, but it seems to be too exhausted to do any such thing, much to her displeasure. Each time her eyes begin to close, she pries them open, again, and tries to concentrate fully on the drawing half-done in her hands. But alas, her decreased energy level and the lulling thought of rest wins the battle, and despite all her greatest efforts, her fingers become limp, she slides farther down into the couch and drifts off to sleep.

～

The first thing she notices is the smell. The rancid, horrid smell of something rotting. A smell that she recognizes all too well. The area surrounding her is dark, and she has to blindly walk around and hope that she doesn't bump into or trip over anything. A familiar fear sinks into her chest as she tries to be as quiet as possible. Drawing the attention of some hungry cryptid wouldn't be a very wise thing to do, after all.

Her body shakes mildly in apprehension, and she glances around desperately, eager to see something, anything, that could tell her where on earth she's currently standing. Or is she even on earth anymore? Is she on another planet, or been teleported to a whole different dimension? The possibilities seem endless, much like the questions swarming her mind, as she treks forward, cautiously. The gloom around her gradually lessens, and at last, she can make some form of sense from everything. This place. She knows this place. This is her aunt's and uncle's house.

It's the same as she remembers, save for the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and the knocked-over flower pots scattered along the floor. Aimlessly, she wanders through the household, looking for any sign of life that may possibly still reside here. The smell gets worse the farther she goes, and suddenly, she shivers. It's getting chilly. Cold is often an indication of death, not life. She turns, looking into the ominously dark hallway before her and hesitating. Does she want to go?

No, she doesn't. She wants to leave. Nobody's here, so she shouldn't be, either. But an invisible force pushes her forward, and slowly, she starts walking. Deeper into the dreadfully sinister corridor, the smell getting stronger and more repulsive, so much so that she's forced to cover her nose just to stop herself from gagging. Her feet get stopped by something lying in the middle of the floor, and she places a hand on the wall so she doesn't fall.

She squints her eyes at the ground, trying to see the object, and eventually just bends over and grabs it. This is no ordinary object. It's her uncle Marvin's javelin. The so-called 'murder weapon'. She stares down at it, ignoring the foreboding fog gripping at her feet. It's slippery. Why is it slippery?

A shriek of what she can only describe as agony erupts from the room at the end of the hall, the end that she finds herself too close to for her liking. The door is closed, obstructing her view from the inside, then again that may be a good thing. Subconsciously, she grips the javelin, suddenly not caring what's on it and why it's slippery. If anything comes barreling through that door at least she has something to stab it with.

She backs away anxiously, her breathing increasing as her eyes never leave the closed entrance. Her hands shake and her footsteps are uncoordinated, but she doesn't really mind it, just as long as she's able to escape before whatever happened to that person inside the room happens to her.

She bumps into something hard, and squeaks from alarm, twisting around, ready to attack. Though she only gasps when she sees a wall. No, surely not... it's impossible. But if it isn't...

Her eyes avert around, looking for another door, but all of them have disappeared. It's like whatever force surrounds her wants her trapped. All of her exits are gone. She has no escape, and she tries to blink away the distressed tears, gripping onto the javelin even tighter than before. Only now does she realize that the door from the end of the hallway has gotten closer, so close in fact, that she could take two steps and she'd be able to touch it.

Trepidation masks all of her previously sensible thoughts and a whimper escapes from between her lips as she wills herself to do it. Just do it and it'll be over. She'll know what lies behind the door. But at the expense of her life? It doesn't look like she has another choice.

Reluctantly, she reaches out and twists the knob, and to her dismay, the door creaks open. It's silent from the other side, meaning that whoever it was screaming before has been silenced. Likely by death, as that seems to be the only reasonable explanation. But maybe it's a prank?

She steps through, muscles tensed and weapon at the ready. Empty. The room is empty, with only a window allowing the moonlight to shine through and spill onto the floor. A crash from behind her, and she looks back, eyes widening when she sees the door slammed shut. Oh well, she could always go through the window. The real question is, who closed it? Another shiver wracks her body, and a whiff of that same powerful odor near about makes her throw up.

A loud static courses through her mind as she twists back around, not trying to hold back the tears that fall from her eyes once she notices two motionless bodies lying in the moonlight. They most certainly weren't there a second ago. Neither was all of the blood. Two large pools of it, beneath their mangled corpses, where they were mercilessly stabbed. But with what? A strangled sob climbs its way up her throat, and she drops the javelin, letting it clatter to the floor.

Blood is all over her hands. It's all over the javelin. There's no doubt in her mind where it came from. But if she has the murder weapon, where is the murderer? She turns on her heel, grabbing at the doorknob, trying to twist it open, but her hands are too wet. They slide down it each time.

"Let me out!" Her voice seems more voluminous than it would usually be, but she suddenly doesn't care who hears her, anymore. She just wants away. Out of this nightmare. Can't it just end already? The static grows stronger, more painful, and she takes to beating on the wooden portal, kicking it as hard as she can. Maybe it will rot away. Maybe she can escape. "Please!"

The desperation is thick in her horrified tone, and she musters up all of her strength, taking in a breath and slamming into it. To her relief, it snaps and she falls to the floor. Finally, she reached the other side. Finally, she can escape. A cold wind blows through her hair and she takes notice of the grass beneath her trembling frame. Grass? Wasn't she just in a house?

Trees. Endless trees surround her, their branches seeming like wicked beasts in the shrill moonlight and the shadows hovering around. There's one right in front of her, a large one. There's something carved into its trunk. She crawls forward a few inches in an effort to see what it is. A message maybe? It looks like a messily-crafted circle with an oversize 'X' in its center. What does that even mean? She almost wants to think that she's seen it, before, but she can't figure out where.

"I control you..." A whisper rides the wind and meets her ears, giving her goosebumps as she shakily stands to her feet.

"Who are you!?" she screams, wanting more than anything to know who is causing this torment.

"Where I go..."

"What do you want from me!?" Her voice cracks, and she looks around frantically for the source of the disembodied voice.

"...you will follow..."

～

Her eyes shoot open and her head turns to the side, trying to remember where she is currently as she attempts to slow her shaky, shallow breaths. The living room. She’s in the living room. Not her aunt’s house. She isn’t trapped, there are no dead bodies, no javelins. She’s safe. Tears well up in her eyes and she sniffs, looking back to the sketch pad still in her hands and being quite alarmed at what she sees. In the center of the page, drawn in dark grey and scribbled carelessly, or hurriedly, is a circle and an ‘X’ that’s placed inside, its limbs elongated and escaping out of the confines of the circle. It obscures her unfinished sketch beneath, making it look more like a background than an actual drawing.

She switches her attention down to her dominant hand, fingers clenched painfully around her pencil, as if she had just been gripping it for dear life, and releases her hold, letting it drop to her lap as she leisurely sits up and tries to gain control of her rapid heart rate. It was just another dream.

A low, threatening sound reaches her ears, and her eyes shift up toward the opposite end of the couch, instantly growing confused when she sees Marshmallow, ears folded back in aggression and tail swishing around as he stares at her warily. She furrows her eyebrows, wanting to reassure him that everything’s okay, and leans forward, reaching her hand out to him cautiously. “Hey, boy, i-it’s okay. Don’t be scared—” She’s cut off when he suddenly swipes at her hand, claws drawn, and slices through her skin, sending a burst of pain through her nerves.

She winces and yanks her arm back, examining the damage and seeing three vertical lines traveling the length of the back of her hand, blood quickly coming to the surface and making them much more noticeable. This seems to be the thing to drive her over the edge because she lets out a broken squeak as nausea starts to make its presence known.

She feels the abrupt urge to throw up, and tosses her sketchpad and pencil to the side, standing to her feet and hurrying to the nearest bathroom, the one on the first floor of the household. Her stomach swirls uncomfortably and makes her go even faster, not wanting to soak the floor in vomit, until she reaches the said bathroom, only bothering to switch on the light before collapsing in front of the toilet, pushing the seat up, and craning her neck forward.

With one hand, she pulls her hair back, and the other she grips the porcelain, hold tightening automatically as her stomach convulses, sending bile to the back of her throat. This alone makes her gag and forces the hot substance out of her mouth, where it lands in the toilet and makes a small splash. The odor finds its way up her nose and makes her gag once more as acid and half-processed food gets torn from her mouth, chunks of cookie, cheese, and bacon floating in the now discolored water, amongst the puke.

She takes deep, consoling breaths, trying to brace herself for another wave of inevitable retching as her fingers squeeze the toilet bowl, so hard her knuckles turn white. As expected, her stomach contracts, however this time the only thing that comes out is more acid and bloody mucus, much to her displeasure. She continues her aching process of heaving up nothing, strained tears slipping down her cheeks and dropping into the water mere inches away from her face at this point, until finally, her body has all the exertion it can take, and it gives out, allowing her to collect her bearings.

She gasps for breath and releases the toilet, leaning her back against the wall and zoning out as she stares at the floor. Her hands shake uncontrollably, and she swipes at her mouth in an effort to get rid of the sticky liquid residing on her lips, before letting out a sob and tucking her knees into her chest. Burying her face in her arms, she muffles her cries and whimpers pathetically. What the heck is going on? What’s wrong with me…?

#Creepypasta #Creepypasta x reader #female reader #Creepypasta fanfiction #Creepypasta fanfic #Marble Hornets #grandparents #summer vacation #Nana #Pops #Y\n L\n #nightmare #Operator symbol #Slenderman #death

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softballum · 4 years

Text

So here’s something no one ever asked for. I’ve never written fic in my life, but heres 2k words of my ramblings.

I thought about this all day yesterday and had an idea for a ‘fix it’ for after Monday 1st’s episode. I really thought Ben might actually confide in Callum but I guess not.

Anyway, hope you enjoy if you do read it!!

I’ve Got You

He’s been squeezing his eyes shut for what feels like hours now. The rooms pitch black and for once its completely silent in and out of the flat. Callum can only hear his own anxious breathing and the faint mumblings of the buildings plumbing. The t-shirt he wears to bed offers him no comfort like normal. Its scratching the back of his neck, the stitches feel like they’re burning into his skin. He’d managed a few pints with the lads earlier and was content with how the night had gone. The alcohol would normally make him drowsy, make him yawn till his bones ached and he carried himself off to bed. Right now though, it's like he can feel it buzzing in his veins, angsty to get up from the horizontal position he’s in.

He can’t sleep if he knows Ben is supposed to be next to him. Sometimes he’ll briefly wake up in the small hours of the morning and brush his hand across the mattress. Just to feel Ben’s warm skin beneath his fingertips. Some days he still can’t believe that what he has with Ben is real, that he wants to spend the most vulnerable hours of his day, lying next Callum. He knows he’s overreacting. Ben had let Callum know he’d promised to put Lexi to bed tonight and spend some much needed, quality cuddling time with her. He’ll have let her stay up a little longer so he can read an extra few pages of Lexis favourite fantasy. Unique character voices and all. Or he’s sat having a cuppa with his Mum. Kathy fretting over him with extra cake she’d made for the cafe that morning, knows its Ben’s favourite. It’ll be as simple as that. Nothing for Callum to worry about.

But he knew he got a weird vibe from Ben this morning, shooing him off like that. Ben didn’t want to be a hindrance to Callum making new mates and now he’s avoiding him. He goes to pick up his phone from the bedside table almost knocking it off completely. He squints when he unlocks the screen, the brightness edging on his irritation. He opens up his text conversation with Ben, the glasses wearing emoji in his contact grinning at him. He sees that Ben still hasn’t replied to his earlier message about when he’d be home. He contemplates sending another, starts tapping on the back space with a loud sigh.

“He doesn’t need you checking up on him, you idiot. You ain't his mother” he mutters to himself, scowling at the wall in front of him. But Callum just cares, cares with his whole chest and he hates the thought of Ben avoiding him. After Ben’s confessions and brash words in the middle of the square the other night, things have been a bit…off kilter between them, but it won’t stop Callum from caring about him. He knows Ben still has this hard exterior up and its only being built higher the more he believes he’s not worth Callum’s affections.

Callum jumps when he hears the flat door slam a moment later, startling him from his thoughts. He waits for the increasing volume of Bens feet up the stairs, but they don’t come. Callum lies on his back holding his breath. His eyes darting about the dark ceiling like it will give him the answers he’s looking for. After a few unnerving seconds, the heavy thumps of Ben’s boots make their way on to the landing. Callum open’s the bedroom door with a gentle touch not wanting Ben to think he’s been clock watching his arrival back to the flat.

“Ben…?” He says it so quietly, he struggles to hear it himself. “Ben.”

Ben sees the change in light of Callum walking closer to him out the corner of his eye. Whipping his head up to meet the creased expression on Callum’s face.

“Hi, you alright?” He signs as he speaks. “Lexi enjoy her story yeah?”.

It takes Ben a moment to put it together. He clears his throat, teetering on the edge of nervousness.

“Yeah, she’s great..yeah” he answers, still glancing at Callum’s hands in mid air.

“I text you earlier. Didn’t want to leave you on your lonesome too long if I was out. Didn’t think you’d still be at your Mum’s.” He makes sure Ben can see his mouth move with each word, but even he can feel himself rambling.

Ben’s staring, mouth just slightly agape in concentration but he’s not caught a word. He blinks harshly against the little light coming from the living room lamp. His head is bursting. The ringing in his ears is still ever present and it feels like it’s pushing down on him from above. The pressure is too much. His hands feel cold but his palms are clammy. They’re balled up into fists, shoved deeply into the pockets of his leather jacket. He can’t even feel the pain of his nails digging into the calloused flesh. Hands that not all that long ago were holding a gun, punching some thugs and driving the get away car for him and Phil. He can feel his breathing picking up, leather jacket sticking to the back of his neck, like a bad dream following you around. He knows he needs to put on a show now, best lying performance of his life. Show Callum that everything is as it should be. Take his hand and lead him to the bed they share and at least try and get some rest. He can do that. He can. He’s lied to Callum about dodgy jobs and his family life so many times already, hidden his darkest secrets from him time and time again, it should feel easy. Easier than this. He needs to get away, run to the bathroom or grab a glass of water from the kitchen. Anything to get out from under the careful gaze of Callum. If he’s not looking straight at him, maybe, just maybe he could get away with the facade. But he’s stuck to the floor, his boots suddenly weighing an absolute tonne. He feels nauseous now and the room is spinning, seconds away from being sick. Doesn’t know whether its because of his ears or if the need to lie to Callum for the umpteenth time that week, is finally catching up on him. It was different when it was about Keanu. He could just push and push and it worked, for a time. It’s different now though. He needs Callum, needs him so much even he doesn’t realise. He can’t just push him away anymore, he agreed to be better, but right now he can’t do better.

“Phone Ben? Did you get my text?” Callum’s thumb hovers over his other four fingers, motioning to him.

Ben blinks again. Swallows hard, his throat dry and scratching. Concentrate, he thinks.

“Uhh no sorry. Not picked it up for hours.” Another lie, good. He drags it out his jean pocket ready to chuck it on the kitchen counter, forget about it and got to sleep with his boyfriend and pretend this night never happened. His thumb knocks the lock button though, the screen lighting up the picture of Lexi as his background. There’s a text from his Dad.

“Remember. Not a word to Callum.”

He feels himself choke, throat constricting. His eyes sting and he’s breathing harshly through his nose. He’s squeezing his phone so tightly, the bone of his knuckles could simply tear through the skin on the back of his hand. He’s getting hotter and hotter now, the rage bubbling up underneath the surface. His muscles all cramping up at his frustration. The remaining adrenaline from earlier only adding to his impending outburst.

Callum swears everything is stuck in slow motion. He sees Ben’s eyes focus on his phone, reading the same line over and over again, quicker each time he scans over the screen. Then his expression changes. He’s never seen Ben like this. Vulnerable, upset, cocky, confrontational but not this, he’s never seen him like this. He hesitates to react, doesn’t know what Ben will do or say next. No idea what could have been on his phone to make him like this. Panic starts to set in.

A sharp moment later. Ben lets out an aggressive scream, all his emotions finally coming up to the surface for air. His throat feels like its bleeding but its no match for how his head feels. His phone suddenly rips out of his hand and makes a heavy thud against the fuchsia-coloured wall of the flat, narrowly missing a photo frame. It rattles to the floor, the screen smashed and blacked out. It’s how Ben feels, bashed about and empty underneath it all.

Callums shocked into action then and runs to him, socked feet padding over the length of the living room. Ben’s pacing now. All shadows and amber street light, seeping in from the curtains. His hands grab his ears like he’s trying to pull them off. Huffing through gritted teeth, droplets of spit gathering on his lips. Eyes red raw as he scrunches them as tight as possible, defiant not to let his tears spill over and down his cheeks. Callum grabs his elbows and Ben starts to sob, noises only a broken, young man could make when he can’t carry on anymore. His cries wrack his chest, desperate to get a breath in but his emotions pull him deeper. Callum’s eyes are darting all over Ben’s figure trying to work out what could possible have happened to him and why he’s crumbling in his hands.

“Ben. Its okay, I’m here. What is it? Whats wrong?” His subconscious is using his police and army training to keep his voice as level and calm as possible, feeling anything but.

Ben continues to cry hysterically, his shallow breaths echoing in the small space of the flat.

“Ben, please? Please let me help you. Tell me. Whatever it is”

There’s silence for a split second and Callum thinks he’s imaging all this, but Ben’s body is still trembling under his hold.

“I can’t do this” Its barely a whisper and Callum wonders if Ben even realises he’s spoken out loud.

“You what?”

“I can’t do this Callum. I can’t. I can’t do it.” And shallowly, for a moment, Callum thinks he’s talking about them. But that’s not Ben, he wouldn’t be upset like this, he’d act the hard man and pretend he’s only being that way for the protection of Callum. No, this is different.

“You can’t do what Ben? Whats happened.” He trails his hands up to the back of Ben’s, still gripping on to his ears. He tries to gently prise them away from the sides of his head. If he can’t hear or look at Callum, he can’t communicate and Callum needs Ben to know he’s there for him.

Ben slowly glances up, still huffing in short pants. His face is blotchy red and wet from his cries.

His hair is all over place, in tufts from where he’s been grabbing at it in frustration. Callum thinks he hears his own heart shatter when he finally sees his face, Ben has never looked this broken before. Callum thinks if he lets go of the sides of his head now, he might just fall apart like fine china. This is not a Ben he’s ever seen.

“I can’t Callum” he repeats.

“Cant what Ben!?” Ben can see it from Callum’s expression what he’s asking him but that’s the only way he can tell.

“I can’t hear Callum.”

“What? I know you can’t hear Ben! What are you on about?” Ben concentrates on Callum’s lips through his blurred vision.

“No Callum.” He hiccups out a broken sob. The words are right on his tongue, but its like a bad taste in his mouth. He just wants to swallow and get rid of it, but what else can he say. He takes another second, the air between the two of them fully charged. Callum just stares at him in anticipation.

“I’m deaf. I can’t hear you. At all.”

The floodgates open then and Ben is back to harsh, violent cries. His lips curling in and his eyelashes soaked with thick tears. Callum holds on to him, his mouth hanging open in shock. Ben crashes into him, head straight into Callum’s chest, balling up the cotton of his t-shirt in his hands, holding on for dear life.

Callum just holds him. Wraps one arm around Ben’s back, the other cradling the back of his head, fingers brushing through the short hair there in an attempt to soothe his boyfriend. He stumbles a little with the sheer amount of weight Ben is pushing on him. Can feel his chest tighten too, his vision becoming blurred as a stray tear rolls its way down his flushed cheek. He’s scared, scared for Ben and what this means for him. But Ben’s strong, they’re strong and Callum will do anything to see him through his.

He dips his head so his mouth meets the crown of Ben’s hair. He presses a small kiss there, silent and soft.

“Shhhh.” He hushes. “I’ve got you Ben. I’ve got you.”

#ballum #ballum fic #ben mitchell #callum highway #eastenders #ben x callum #meg writes

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smallblueandloud · 4 years

Text

in blackwater woods

pairings: eleven/rose, amy & rose, amy & eleven, amy/rory

summary: there's a normal-looking blonde woman in the doctor's room, and amy really has no idea what's going on. but she's going to figure it out. (a rewrite of doctor who 6x11, the god complex)

notes: i only started plotting this after @doctorroseprompts prompted episode rewrites with rose literal years ago. this fic has been in the works for... a long time, and thank you so much to those who kept being enthusiastic and excited about it <3 the title is from the mary oliver poem of the same name. i kept her line breaks, just added a few more of my own

read it on ao3 | more of my doctor who writing | more of my writing

Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

Amy opens the door of the TARDIS and steps out, breathing deep. Behind her, inside, the Doctor and Rory are discussing medical politics of the 23rd century - a conversation that’s lasted on and off for several weeks now. She’s reasonably interested in medicine, but only when Rory’s the one doing the explaining, and that’s mostly because she gets to see him being passionate about his favorite subject.

She has no trouble, then, with tuning them out in favor of paying attention to where they’ve landed. Landing in a new place and experiencing it for the first time is her favorite part of travelling.

She looks around. Then she frowns.

“Doctor?” she calls, turning back to let her voice carry.

The two inside don’t stop arguing. It’s not surprising, she supposes, given that they’re both interested in what they’re talking about. But it makes her feel suddenly and powerfully alone. “Rory?” she calls, a little louder.

They stop. “Amy? What’s wrong, love?” asks her husband.

He and the Doctor are suddenly at her shoulders. At her right, Rory puts a hand on her shoulder. On her left, the Doctor says, “What’s wrong, Amy?”

Her loneliness vanishes, just as quickly as it had appeared, and the familiar exasperation takes its place. “The people are six hundred feet tall, he says. You have to talk to them in hot air balloons and the Tourist Information Centre is made of one of their hats, he says. I don’t see any hats, Doctor.”

Here’s the issue: they’re indoors. Amy was promised Ravan-Skala’s sky festival, an event that only happens once a year, on the planet with no buildings. But the corridor they’ve landed in is definitely in a building - not to mention carpeted, sort of dim, and rather like any cheap hotel you could find at home.

“There’s something creepy about this place,” says Rory, his hand tightening on her shoulder. She reaches up and squeezes it.

“Exactly,” says the Doctor, moving forward as he clasps his hands together. He spins around to face them, pointing at both her and Rory. “Why is that?”

Amy frowns, looking at him as she tries to figure out what feels so off about wherever they are. This is a familiar game, though she’s never been very good at it.

“Where are we?” asks Rory.

“Great question!” he says. “Not on Earth, that’s for sure. The air tastes slightly different - can you tell?”

“Yeah,” says Amy, sniffing. There it is. There’s a vague hint of... something in the air, nothing she’d ever smelled before. “And if we’re not on Earth, but this place looks exactly like a cheap hotel on Earth-”

“Exactly!” exclaims the Doctor, waving his hands in tight circles in front of him. “Who would go to all the trouble? Why?”

“Let’s figure it out, then,” says Amy, starting to grin. The Doctor smiles at her and spins around, pointing forwards. “Onwards!”

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

of the ponds,

“I don’t understand,” says the Doctor, pacing back and forth. He waves a pad of paper as he passes her. Amy exchanges a skeptical glance with Rita, the practical medical student, as Rory frowns at Joe’s dead body. “Lucy Hayward saw what she used to be scared of. Joe saw the dolls - bloody creepy buggers - which he didn’t seem bothered by at all. But what do they have to-”

“I don’t-” starts the nervous guy. The Doctor stops pacing abruptly, turning and moving in one smooth movement until he’s directly in his personal space with a finger in his face. “What is it, Howie?”

“I don’t think it’s just what she used to be scared of,” he says. “I don’t- I mean- I saw my room,” he says, in a rush. The Doctor nods, moving away, as if finally grasping how unnerving it is to have a half-mad alien in your face.

“I saw my room and it’s what I’m scared of now,” Howie gets out. “My worst fear, I guess.”

“And it wasn’t the CIA covering up aliens?” asks Amy, realizing a second too late how insensitive that sounds. Rory shoots her a sharp look from his seat across the aisle, next to the man himself, and she winces.

“No,” says Howie, looking straight into her eyes. Before she can muster up the ability to apologize, he continues: “I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t think I need to. But- Doctor, I think- we see our worst fears in there.”

“Yeah,” says Rita, suddenly. Everyone jumps. “I saw mine too.”

Amy frowns. From what she’s seen in the hour since they lost the TARDIS, Rita has struck her as incredibly competent, practical, and able to take everything in stride. If she succumbed to temptation and looked in her room, the rest of them don’t stand a chance of resisting.

She sneaks a glance at the Doctor, who seem to be doing a quick mental calculation. As she watches, he seems to add two and two and end up with something unpleasant - he pales considerably, and then turns so she can’t see his eyes any more.

“Don’t look at me like that,” says Rita, to the room at large. “It’s impossible to avoid. And it’s-”

She hesitates, which only makes Amy more nervous. She hasn’t hesitated once, even with the alien revelation, since they got here.

“It’s terrifying,” she says, finally. “I mean, obviously, but you don’t realize how bad it’s going to be. It’s like that woman said. You have no idea what it’s going to be, but when you see it-”

“-you realize it could never be anything else,” finishes Gibbis. Amy glances at him, and sees that he’s avoiding eye contact.

“You saw it too,” she realizes.

The Doctor turns back, wagging his finger at the three strangers. “All of you have. We’re the only ones that haven’t, so far.” It doesn’t sound like a question, but she knows he’s fishing for a response, making sure he has all the data.

“Right,” says Rory. Amy nods.

“But we will end up seeing it,” says the Doctor. He still looks pale. “Eventually. Right, Rita?”

“Yes.”

“But you can’t plan for it,” says Howie. “I don’t- I don’t think anyone can predict what it will be for them.”

“I can’t,” agrees Amy, surprising even herself. She doesn’t usually like sharing excessively personal things - but it’s true. She’s noticed, though, that people thrust into situations like these tend to make generalizations or assume rules in order to have some semblance of control, so it probably isn’t always the case. She glances at Rory.

Sure enough, he shakes his head. “I think some can,” he says. “I can.”

The Doctor wiggles his hands, but doesn’t say anything.

No one says anything, in fact. Amy considers going across the aisle to sit with Rory, but doesn’t want to step over the dead body, so instead she watches the Doctor, who seems to be getting stiller and stiller as he considers something. Finally, he says, “Would you say-”

He swallows. “Would you say that they-”

He’s watching the wall. Amy has a bad feeling about this.

“Would you say that the fears acted as they should’ve?”

“What?” says Howie.

The Doctor turns around. “Oh, come on. You know what I mean. If your fear was a person, did the thing in the hotel room know everything that the person should have? Was their personality the same?”

Gibbis shakes his head. Howie shrugs.

“Yes,” says Rita.

The Doctor turns to look at her. “You’re sure? Think carefully. This is important.”

“I’m sure,” she says.

“Would you say,” he says, “that it acted out of your control? Knew things you don’t know? Acted in ways you couldn’t predict?”

“Yeah,” says Howie. Gibbis is still silent. “I mean, I’ve pictured that scene a thousand times. But I’m not creative like that. I couldn’t have come up with what they said.”

“Right,” says the Doctor, exhaling. “Right.”

Amy knows, suddenly, what he’s planning on doing. Not why - god knows why he does half the stupid things he does - but that’s a question for later.

“I know how to figure this out,” he says. “I mean- I don’t know how. That’s the whole point. I’m using my phone-a-friend lifeline. Rita, how long did Joe have before he started being all-” He hesitates. “Joe-like?”

“A few hours, at least,” says Rita. She seems to have calmed down a bit. Amy admires her for that, and wishes she could have some of that serenity for herself. “We have a few hours before we go crazy. What do you need us to do?”

“Right,” says the Doctor, pointing at her. “Excellent. Good thinking. Except I don’t need you, Rita, for this part. I don’t need any of you, except-”

He hesitates, turning slightly towards Amy before aborting the movement.

He’s her best friend.

She takes pity on him, or maybe she decides to make his life harder. She meets Rory’s eye, and he nods at her. Go.

“You’re not going alone,” she says. “I’m going with you.”

The Doctor stares at her. “You don’t even know what my plan is,” he says.

She stares at him. Don’t make me say it, she thinks.

“You said it yourself,” adds Rory, helping him save face. “Make sure someone else can see you at all times. Amy should go with you.”

Amy closes her eyes, briefly, and thanks whoever’s in charge of Earth that Rory exists. Then she reopens her eyes and levels a look at the Doctor.

Time stretches out between them as she cows her favorite alien into submission.

Finally, he looks away, clapping his hands. “Fine. Pond with go with me, to my- to where I’m going, while her husband and the rest of you stay here. Rory,” he says, pointing at the husband in question, “you’re in charge, since you’ll be the only one who hasn’t seen their room. Don’t be cruel, don’t be irrational, but whatever you do, don’t let them leave. Got it?”

Rory gives him a thumb’s up, shooting a small, private smile at Amy. “Got it. Same to you, love.”

“Yeah,” says Amy.

“We can talk shop,” says Rita, giving them a smile of her own. Amy’s got to hand it to her - she’s holding up remarkably well, at least compared to Howie, who’s looking slightly green at the prospect of the Doctor leaving, and Gibbis, who is on his knees and seems to be praying.

“Awesome,” says Amy. She turns to the Doctor and offers him her arm. “Lead the way,” she says, because she’s not sure he’ll ever start moving if she doesn’t.

He slips his arm through hers. “Thank you, Pond,” he says, quietly enough that no one else can hear.

He starts to walk, seemingly without any doubt as to the direction. He seems confident, like this is just another normal day, but Amy knows better. His hand is shaking.

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

nameless now.

It seems like they’ve been walking for hours. Logically, it’s been more like ten minutes, but Amy’s well aware that they’re on the clock, and the Doctor seems to be, too. He keeps getting slower as they get closer to where they’re going, though, which only makes it feel like they’ve been walking for longer.

His hand is still trembling, more violently than ever. She hates seeing him like this - when he’s scared, the stakes are bad, and she doesn’t want to think about that right now - so she casts about for a question to ask him. When he goes into lecture mode, he detaches himself from the situation, and it always calms him down.

After a few minutes, one hits her.

“Doctor?”

He startles violently, having been lost in his own thoughts. “Wh- Yes, Pond?”

“How do they determine the room numbers?”

“What?” he says.

She gestures around with the arm that he’s not holding. “I mean. No one knew we were coming, but you still have a room. That means everyone in the universe has a room, right?”

The Doctor makes a doubtful noise, but he at least seems to be considering her question. She continues: “Then what basis do the numbers have? Do the numerals have a significance or something? But then you’d need a number unique to every being.”

“Yes,” says the Doctor. “Good question. I don’t know.”

She frowns. The chase is the best part for him - he loves considering and discarding possible explanations, usually out loud where she has to hear them. For him to give up so easily...

It’s concerning, but she doesn’t say anything. If a good question like that one won’t bring him out of it, nothing will.

They make another left, and then another right, go straight through a four-way intersection, make another right, and suddenly the Doctor stops in front of a door.

Neither of them say anything. Amy’s usually the one to push the Doctor to do something difficult, but she can’t bring herself to make him go inside. Instead, she watches his face as he considers what’s in front of them.

Sure, it’s the room housing his worst fear. But what is he thinking? Why are they here?

Finally, he says, “Birth order.”

“What?” she says. He disentangles his arm from hers.

“The room numbers. They’re based on birth order, must be.”

“How do you know?” He doesn’t answer, but she barely notices, too busy examining the numbers of the doors in front of them.

They’ve arrived at number 436535.11. To the left, there’s 436535.10.2, 436535.10, 436535.9, and so on. She frowns.

“How can people have decimal places?” she asks. “If it’s birth order?”

“Different fears,” he says. “Different stages of life, so to speak.” He gestures at 10.2. “In there, I think there’s probably a dead body. Either that, or rejection.”

“How can there be a room filled with rejection?”

The Doctor shakes his head. She’s surprised to see that he’s smiling, a little. “Never mind.” He shrugs. “Chances are just as good that it’s Jackie in there, anyway.”

She decides not to ask as he turns back to his door, number whatever point 11. The discussion of the other doors seems to have calmed him down enough that he’s ready to go inside, and she doesn’t want to cause more delay.

He takes a deep breath and reaches out, turning the handle and opening the door just enough for him to see inside without letting her see anything. His smile grows into something almost... almost...

Fond?

“Of course,” he says, quietly enough that she can barely hear him. “Did you really think it would be anything else?”

“Doctor?” she asks. He ignores her, pulling the door open fully and walking inside.

Amy knows the Doctor is brave. Things that still make her wake in cold sweats barely make him pause when they’re right in front of him. Whatever his worst fear is, then, is probably going to instantly turn up in her own room, wherever it is in this cursed hotel.

She doesn’t want to go inside. But he’s her best friend, and he’s already taken the plunge, so she takes a deep breath and follows him into the unknown.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

There’s a blonde woman in a blue leather jacket standing at the window, facing away from them.

She seems mostly harmless - doesn’t even turn around, making Amy think that she didn’t hear the door open at all. But the Doctor stops as soon as he catches a glimpse of her.

Amy sneaks a glance at him. His hands are shaking, worse than before, and he’s paled again.

She looks back at the woman, but doesn’t see anything particularly fear-worthy. She turns back at the Doctor.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and runs his hands over his face. When he exhales and pulls them away, he seems reasonably collected, but Amy stops herself from relaxing too much.

This is his worst fear, Amy reminds herself. Whatever she is, it’s worse than anything else he’s ever come up against.

“Doctor,” she whispers. He doesn’t respond, so she looks over at him. He doesn’t seem to have heard her - all of his attention is focused on the woman in front of them. He barely looks like he’s breathing.

“Doctor!” she whispers, again. “Snap out of it!”

Thankfully, this time he hears her, blinking rapidly as he’s pulled out of his trance. “What is it?”

“What are we dealing with here?”

She doesn’t mean to rush him, but she’s only now realizing that they should have planned some kind of course of action for confronting this apparition, and it’s making her panicky. She’d spent the entire walk so worried about him that she’d forgotten they were about to confront a monster, and she needs to make up for lost time. Fast.

He blinks, again, and finally tears his eyes away from the woman. “What?”

“What kind of alien is she?” asks Amy, urgently. “What did she do? How many people has she killed? Is she going to sprout a plunger and start saying exterminate? Wh-”

She’d only said that last part because she tends to get wittier when lives are on the line - it’s not out of any real expectation that he’ll actually appreciate her joke. He’s facing his worst fear and all.

To her surprise, though, the Doctor interrupts her by chuckling. “Amy,” he says, fondly. “What are you talking about?”

Amy shoots another nervous glance at the woman, who still doesn’t seem to have heard them.

“This is your worst fear,” says Amy. “It’s for a reason. I would have guessed the Daleks, or maybe my daughter - your goddaughter - getting into the stash of booze, so she has to be worse.”

“Amy,” says the Doctor. He looks at her, then back at the woman, then back at her. His mouth is moving, but he isn’t making any noise. His hands start to move - seemingly of their own accord - but he still doesn’t make a sound. Her suggestion was apparently insane enough as to render him speechless.

She considers hitting him to snap him out of it, but is distracted by movement on the other side of the room. The woman’s shoulders are tenser than they were when they walked in, and her head is slightly cocked - she’s listening to them. Amy resolves her initial impression of her. Clearly she pays attention, and is restrained enough to not attack them outright.

She turns back to the Doctor, who is still waving his arms about like a madman. Amy understands the urge to laugh hysterically when faced with terrifying situations, but this is really too much. She pokes him in the shoulder.

“Doctor,” she says, and nods at the woman.

The Doctor straightens, the smile slipping off his face. “Of course,” he says, suddenly deadly serious. Amy feels butterflies in her stomach and quashes them determinedly.

“Amy,” he says, formally, gesturing to the other woman like they’re at a ball of some kind. “Let me introduce you to Rose Tyler.”

On cue, the woman turns around. Everything about her posture screams military, or at least, well trained by a serious organization. Her arms are crossed, her hair is pulled out of her face, and she’s wearing a no-nonsense expression. Amy can see how she would be a threat.

She strides towards them and stops in front of the Doctor. He closes his eyes and allows her into his personal space, closer than anyone’s ever tried to get before. Amy’s hand makes an abortive movement to stop her - but the Doctor would say something, if he didn’t want her so close.

Right?

Or is he that scared?

“Doctor,” greets Rose Tyler. She’s significantly shorter than him, but it still feels like she’s in his face. “Nice to see you.”

She turns towards Amy. It’s not particularly sudden, but she jumps anyway.

“You’re the one travelling with him these days, I take it?”

Amy glances at the Doctor, who opens his eyes and nods at her. She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Me and my husband, and sometimes our daughter.”

“Wow,” says Rose. Strangely, it doesn’t sound sarcastic, the way Amy would expect someone evil to say it. It just sounds... normal.

She turns back to the Doctor, dropping her arms to her sides. “You’ve gone completely domestic, haven’t you?”

Scratch that. She sounds teasing.

The Doctor takes a deep breath and then- he-

wraps his arms around Rose, lifting her up with the force of his hug. Amy can’t catch much of what he says, except that there’s a missed you in there as he gently swings her from side to side.

Rose laughs, bright and sunny, and says, “Put me down!”

“Never,” says the Doctor, swaying her back and forth before he does in fact put her down. He’s grinning, wide, and Amy has never seen him this excited. It still seems off, somehow - but there’s no way he would hug an enemy.

As Rose straightens her jacket, Amy tries to get the Doctor’s attention without it being too obvious, but he’s too caught up in staring at Rose to notice anything she tries. She abandons her frantic hand waving and considers. This information changes everything. When the Doctor had been so nervous- when he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from Rose- it wasn’t fear.

The Doctor is enamoured with this woman.

Amy almost laughs. Of course his worst fear is an ex girlfriend. Facing the consequences of his actions, and all.

Rose finishes rearranging herself and looks back up at the Doctor, grinning wide. The Doctor smiles at her, although his face has lost all the joy of their reunion. It seems like he’s remembered where they are, suddenly, and it’s hit him like a bucket of cold water to the face.

He reaches down to cup the side of her head.

“Rose Tyler,” he says, his voice quiet. “What do you remember?”

Rose narrows her eyes at him. “What?”

“You are a projection of this hotel created for me,” says the Doctor, his voice turning cold, more or less. It’s still wavering. Amy can see how he’s struggling, but she’s not sure Rose can. “And I need your help.”

Her suspicions are confirmed when Rose steps back, out of his grasp. “Really?” she asks, the smile leaving her face. “Okay, we can do that.” Suddenly her expression is as frosty as his. “I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I was created from your memories, so the last thing I remember is watching the TARDIS leave me- leave us on that bloody beach.” She laughs, bitter. “That’s because that’s the last thing you remember about me.”

“Rose-” he says. “I didn’t-”

“No,” she says. “You’re right.” She sighs. “I shouldn’t- I’m not-”

She opens her mouth as if to ask a question, but he interrupts her. “I need you to focus.”

He’s looking over Rose’s head. Amy shifts, slightly, and sees the expression on his face. He’s torn, the way he gets sometimes when he’s looking at someone who’s going to die and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “We need your help to figure out what’s going on here.”

Rose can’t see his face, though. She flinches. “That’s what you think of us, isn’t it?” she says. “I’d forgotten. But we’re nothing but apes to you, right? Apes with creativity. It’s what I am to you. A good problem solver.”

There it is, thinks Amy. Worst fear - a fight with an ex. Granted, it’s a pretty ugly fight already. Both of them are trying to hurt each other, now, and when you love someone that feeling is more painful than anything else in the world.

And she knows his treatment of his friends is a sore spot for him.

“We’re not doing this,” he says, his voice hard. Obviously Rose is rehashing an old argument. “We’re not- you’re not real. Rose Tyler doesn’t exist in this universe. All I need from you is her brain. So use it to help us.”

Rose adjusts her stance, crossing her arms again. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she says, in the same tone. “You need to give me some information before I can.”

The Doctor summarizes their findings in a few sentences, getting less cold and more animated as the story goes on. “And so we have four humans, one Tivolian, and one Time Lord, none of whom know what is going on and four of whom are going to go absolutely bonkers in worship to some Him in the next few hours-”

“How does this place know their worst fears?” asks Rose. “How am I here? Was it planning on you?”

“I don’t know,” says the Doctor. “Ditto. And no. We were planning on going to Ravan-Skala. Do you remember? I told you about it, once. We were going to...”

Rose ignores him, her posture shifting into something more tense, even as his voice trails away. “You say one person’s already died?”

“Yes,” says the Doctor, looking away from her. He seems hurt, and Amy’s hackles go up, even though it’s probably understandable for Rose to shy away from more friendly conversation, since their last one devolved so quickly. “Rory - that’s Amy’s husband, he’s a nurse - and Rita - she’s a new one, a medical student - are probably looking at the body now.”

“Ah,” says Rose. Amy realizes what seems so familiar about her posture: it’s military, again. She’s slipped back into the mission mode she was in when they first walked in.

It hits her that she should probably wonder what kind of organization Rose was in. Because it seems like the argument’s already over, and all of his fear - because it was fear, at least when he was standing outside the door - can’t have been for something that short. Anyway, the Doctor’s worst fear wouldn’t be- it wouldn’t be a three-minute argument, right? It has to be deeper.

What can it be?

“How did they die?” asks Rose. The Doctor frowns. Amy thinks back and realizes they hadn’t bothered to figure it out.

“I mean,” says Rose. “Knowing how they died has to give us some clue of what happened.”

“That’s... right,” says the Doctor. His face drops and suddenly he looks terrified.

Amy blinks. What the hell happened?

She’s not sure, but he looks like he’s on the urge of hyperventilating. He looks, somehow, like all of his worst fears were just fulfilled, and she realizes he hasn’t looked like this since they came into the room.

This, then, is why Rose is here. Whatever this is.

She makes a quick decision. She needs to get him out of here, if anything to give him some breathing room and ask him a few questions. If he’s this worked up from a single sentence... And they have a lead to follow up on, besides.

“We need to go and ask Rory and Rita, then,” she says. Both the Doctor and Rose jump, as if they’d forgotten she was in the room with them. As they turn to face her, Amy shrugs, feeling see-through. She compensates with extra bravado. “We’re running low on time, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” says the Doctor, his expression changing from fear into confidence. Amy hates it when that happens - it means he’s figured something out, gotten ahead of her. “But we need to figure out what’s going on, too, or at least come up with a viable theory. Amy, you need to stay here.”

“What?” asks Amy. There’s no way she’s letting him go out there on his own, not as his time runs out. Plus, she doesn’t want to be left alone with-

“We need to keep working on this problem,” says the Doctor, becoming more animated as the idea becomes more viable. “We have a lead, but that doesn’t mean we know anything. You and Rose can figure it out together, I know it, and she can’t- you can’t leave the room, right, Rose? So you have to stay here with her, Amy. It’s going to be- it’ll-”

He pauses.

“Why are you making that face at me, Amelia Pond?”

Amy wrinkles her nose at the sound of her full name.

Rose glances at her, then looks away. “She doesn’t want to be alone with me,” she says. “I turned up here, after all.”

“Ah,” says the Doctor. He turns to Amy, takes a deep breath, and looks her straight in the eyes. “It’s going to be fine,” he says, running his knuckles across her cheek - almost paternally. “I trust Rose. She’s not going to hurt you.”

Then why is she your worst fear?, Amy wants to ask, but now that he’s closer she can see the look in his eyes. He’s only a few feet from the breaking point, and she doesn’t want to push him further.

“Anyways,” he says, quietly. “I’m the only one who can find my way back. Otherwise I’d send you.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, trying not to worry too much. He’s a pseudo-immortal Time Lord - he’ll be fine. “Okay. Go ahead. We’ll be here.”

The Doctor pulls back, a manic look slipping onto his face. “Excellent!” he says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll be back! No one wander off!”

“Right,” says Amy, glancing at Rose.

Rose looks around. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“Precisely!” say the Doctor, giving them both finger guns as he backs out the door. Then he closes it, and Amy is left alone with Rose Tyler.

“Right,” she repeats.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

Amy turns to Rose.

She’s not sure what she’s expecting. Rose doesn’t seem to be evil, or particularly harmful, even inadvertently. She seems to be important to the Doctor, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. Daleks are important to the Doctor. So are bananas, for that matter.

“So,” she says, trying (and probably failing) to sound casual. “Any ideas?”

If anything, Rose has good problem solving skills. She’d said it herself, earlier. Of course, the one time she’d demonstrated them, the Doctor had nearly had a panic attack, but Amy’s sure it’s fine. And Amy’s own reasoning skills aren’t half bad, either. They just need to use them.

By working together.

Amy’s not particularly known for her cooperative nature. Bloody hell, are they screwed.

Rose frowns. “Did you notice anything odd about the other people in the hotel? The Doctor doesn’t usually think to check this, or at least the him I knew didn’t, but if someone’s faking it- or planning on-”

“Sorry,” interrupts Amy. “You knew a different regeneration of him?”

Sue her. It was practically an invitation to ask about Rose’s past with the Doctor. Amy knows they’re low on time, but she has a feeling that the key to this is getting more information.

“Two, actually,” says Rose, absently. She still looks thoughtful. “Or possibly there’s a clue in how they talk when they go crazy? Are they being controlled? Are they acting out of character? Or are they speaking of their own volition? Do they want it?”

“I dunno,” says Amy. “I mean, I haven’t really seen any of them being controlled. By the time we got here, Joe was already crazy-”

“No video footage?”

“No,” says Amy. “Listen- I need you to pay attention to me.”

Rose instantly turns to Amy, her gaze sharpening. “Yes?” Amy half expects her to finish with soldier?, but apparently Rose can still talk to civilians.

“I don’t have enough information,” says Amy. “You have to tell me: why are you in the Doctor’s room?”

Rose stares at her for a second. Then she frowns. “I don’t see why that matters.”

“It does,” insists Amy. “Look, I know you still have questions, but take my word for it: I don’t have any other information about the victims. The only other lead we have is the hotel itself, and you’re a primary source. So-”

She sits down on the bed and pats the coverlet next to her.

“What’s your story?”

Rose sits down next to her, slowly. She’s still staring at her.

“Well?” prompts Amy.

Rose sighs and looks up at the ceiling.

“I used to travel with him,” she says, slowly. “I- I got lost. I was trapped in a parallel universe for a few years. I got back in time to help him save the multiverse, and then he dumped me right back at-”

She sighs. Her voice had gotten louder, but she takes a deep breath and gets it back under control. Her posture stays relaxed, though - fallen from the military posture she’s had since her confrontation with the Doctor.

She’s Amy’s age. It’s an odd thing to realize, because she seemed so much older, like she’s on the Doctor’s level. But she looks about 21 or 22, maybe 25 at a stretch.

“I don’t think I’m his worst fear,” says Rose, eventually. “I mean- I don’t- I love him, you know, and he loves me, or at least he used to, enough to break all of his rules. And I think he might still-”

Her hands close over the coverlet.

“It isn’t me,” she says, after a pause, sounding sure of it. “It’s- I think he’s terrified of losing me, the way he already did. And not- I mean- he’s done it on purpose. He’s chosen to lose me three times, now, at least, and he does the same to everyone else. So it’s not just that. It’s-”

She hesitates. Amy finds herself feeling curious about what the answer is, and not just because it will help her understand something about her famously private best friend. There’s something intriguing about this woman who claims the Doctor likes her best, made sadder by the fact that he refuses to acknowledge who she is. She’s obviously unique in some sense, if she’s in his room, and she seems as real as any other-

She isn’t the real Rose, though, argues part of her brain, and Amy flushes in remembered shame. She’d listened to that voice when encountered by the Flesh clone of the Doctor, and then it turned out that Amy herself was a clone, too. She’s spent enough sleepless nights feeling guilty over her treatment of him - and her hypocrisy - to know better now.

Speaking of which, though: it’s odd that the Doctor didn’t make the connection, too. He’d been so insistent that the Flesh Doctor was real and everything. He’d make the same argument for this Rose, right?

Unless it isn’t about his principles. Which, okay, yeah, probably pretty obvious, but it’s still important. He’s denying that Rose is real for another reason.

What is it? It should have to do with his fear... right?

“How long did it take him to come here?” asks Rose, suddenly. “I mean, once he realized-”

Amy thinks back. “About four minutes.”

Rose nods. “There is is. It’s- he- he’s always going to do that, I think, and that’s what scares him. Once he knows he can see me, he’s going to, and damn the consequences.” She stops, and frowns. “Huh. I don’t think I understood him this well before.”

“But now you do?”

Why would the room’s creation have extra knowledge? Is it to somehow make them scarier?

“Yeah,” says Rose, frowning again. “I think- it’s because of his expectations. He imagines that I must know him pretty well by now, because of my husband.”

Amy decides they’ve gone far enough down the rabbit hole and doesn’t ask. “So you think his worst fear is you? But not you, specifically, but his dependence on you?”

“Yes,” says Rose.

“Because he has faith in you,” she says. “He always thinks you’re going to help him save the day.” It reminds Amy of Gibbis. When they’d left, he had been on his knees, praying to the god of benevolent conquerors or whatever.

And now that she’s thinking about it, the others had been doing similar things. Howie had been talking about the X-Files, or something, to reassure himself that problems like this are solvable. Rita had kept anxiously putting her hands next to each other, palms up, as if her subconscious had already started praying. The Doctor’s immediate running to Rose isn’t so unexpected, in retrospect.

“Yes,” says Rose.

Of course it makes sense. Religion exists to reassure people when they don’t know what’s going on (basically all the time, for everyone, but oh well). But if everyone copes in approximately the same way, and the victims all end up praising Him-

Could it be connected? Does the hotel want them to pray, or at least fall back on faith?

Why would something want that?, thinks Amy, and wanders back into her mental archive of Doctor-related conversations for an answer. He’d mentioned, once, something about something like-

Oh, yeah. He was telling her all of the times that the Earth was saved with no one the wiser - initially a ploy to show her the necessity of waking up early, somehow - but after about ten minutes he’d gotten quiet and said, “And then there was the Year That Never Was.”

Amy hadn’t had any idea of what he was talking about (which was expected, considering the conversation topic), but even she had heard the capital letters. “What?”

“The Earth was saved by a singular, spectacular woman,” the Doctor had said. “And the power of belief.”

Belief is powerful.

Amy blinks. Joe had just- he’d just dropped dead, like a string was cut. But if the power of his belief, all that kept him alive and kicking, had been seized, somehow...

“Rose,” she says. “I’m not very good at medicine, but I am very good at figuring out mysteries.”

“The Doctor only takes the best,” agrees Rose.

“Of course,” says Amy, even too distracted to make a joke, or possibly take a bow. “What if the hotel is harvesting their belief?”

Rose frowns. “What?”

Amy stands and turns to face her. “Think about it. The Doctor came straight to you because he has faith in you, right? The others who are still alive also turned to whatever they believe in. The hotel has to have planned on that. And before the victims died, they kept saying ‘Praise him’, like they were worshipping something.”

“So faith is involved. Obviously, if people are seeing what they fear the most.”

“Yes,” says Amy. “Obviously.” She uses air quotes. “Not everyone’s para-military, or whatever organization you come from, you know.”

She grins at Rose, to show there’s no hard feelings, and keeps talking. “But why show people their worst fears and cause that belief?”

“This could be a prison of some kind,” says Rose. “The Doctor’s no saint. I mean, you and your husband haven’t even been drawn to your rooms - if you were brought here by accident, just because they wanted him, it would make sense.”

Amy shakes her head. “I don’t think it is. Why would the people die, then?”

“Torture and then execution?”

“Stop poking holes in my theory!”

Rose smiles, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m only playing devil’s advocate!”

“Sure,” says Amy, looking at her mock-doubtfully, before moving on. “Anyway, why would they keep saying ‘Praise him’?”

“That’s true.”

“And you’re right,” says Amy. “It’s just a theory. But the Doctor mentioned something about the power of belief, once, and how it saved the world. If it’s that powerful, can’t it be used as a- a power source, or something?”

Rose’s smile melts away. She’s left with an expression of regret and pain. She looks like she’s remembering something - that, and she just realized something about their current situation. “Yes,” she says, quietly. “That’s true.”

Amy’s curious, and anyway, they can’t do much else without getting the Doctor’s information. “Were you there? What happened?”

Rose takes a deep breath and looks away from her. “Someone took over the world with a paradox,” she says, quickly, “and trapped the Doctor, powerless, on an aircraft carrier, forcing him to watch as he wiped out the human race. His companion at the time - a medical student named Martha, smarter than he was, usually - walked the Earth, trying to stay alive and pass on his story, so that when the time came the concentrated power of our belief would free him and then paradox could be undone, destroying that timeline.”

She’s gone back to mission mode. Amy realizes she does it to take a mental step back from what she’s describing.

“Are you... are you from that timeline?” she asks. It would make sense for a tough military person like Rose to be from an apocalyptic Earth.

Rose shakes her head, grinning a little. “Nah. I’m from London, same as any other regular person. I was- I was travelling around on my own at the time, trying to find the Doctor, and I ran into Martha. I helped her out for a few weeks, kept watch while she slept so she would be alert enough for her stories. I slept while she told them. I didn’t think it was Earth - didn’t think something so horrible could happen to my planet - and the details she’d mentioned just made me miss the Doctor even more. If I’d stayed awake, I might have-”

She inhales sharply, then closes her eyes and exhales.

“It’s past that time now. But her stories must have worked. Which means- yes, your theory is definitely possible.”

“It depends on how the people died,” says Amy. “There must be some way to tell if their belief was somehow harvested. We’ll just have to wait for the Doctor to-”

On cue, the door bursts open.

to love what is mortal;

“Amy!” says the Doctor, striding inside. He closes the door behind him, smiling wide. “Rose Tyler!”

There’s something off about his eyes. Amy realizes she’s not sure how long it’s been since he went back to the others. How much time does he have left?

“Hi,” she says.

“Hello, Doctor,” says Rose. She smiles at the Doctor, but it’s muted. “Did you get back to the others?”

“Yes!” says the Doctor, looking thrilled. “We found out how they died! Well, I didn’t really, it was mostly Rory and Rita-”

Here we go, thinks Amy. She’s worried to death about this man, but can he please shut up for even five minutes at a time?

“-have I mentioned how incredible she is? Of course, Rory is great, but Rita’s only a few involuntary statements away from going crazy, and she’s never been off-planet or in a life-threatening situation before, and she’s solving mysteries about alien causes of death-”

Amy shoots him a look, crossing her arms. He clears his throat. “Anyways. Joe died of... Get this, Amy! Nothing was wrong with him.”

She frowns. She’s not a medical expert, but it seems-

She looks over at Rose, who shrugs.

“What?”

The Doctor flaps his hands excitedly. “Exactly! He just stopped functioning, like he ran out of energy, or something.”

Amy has to resist the ridiculous urge to smile. It’s a terrible situation, but she may just be right about what’s causing it, and she’s proud of her ability to figure these things out. “You mean if he’d had a protein shake, he’d still be alive?”

The Doctor shrugs. “Probably not. Rita said he’d mentioned eating about an hour before getting here, so he probably wasn’t hungry. Rory says - he’s got more experience with this sort of thing, Rose - it’s likely his energy was sucked out of him on purpose. Since Joe was acting so weird, he thinks whatever made him Joe was taken, somehow. If we truly have souls, taking them would kill us, pretty quickly. Rita’s seen heart attack victims at her hospital, and she says the symptoms are similar, and that it seems like defibrillation would’ve had a positive reaction, and it’s fascinating, really, I could-”

Amy turns to Rose, arms crossed. Without looking at him, she says to the Doctor, “So what you’re saying is that something sucked out their energy and possibly their soul for their own uses-”

Rose throws up her hands. She’s grinning, slightly, and Amy knows it’s only out of worry for the Doctor that she’s not full-out laughing. “Fine, Amy!”

The Doctor frowns at both of them, half upset at being interrupted and half at missing the joke. “What?”

“We’ve figured it out,” says Amy. “The last thing we needed was the medical evidence. The hotel is harvesting people’s energy, somehow.”

“Ah,” says the Doctor, the smile dropping off his face. “That- that would make sense.”

“Yeah,” says Amy, inclining her head at Rose. “Pretty obvious, in retrospect.”

“How- how would it do that?” asks the Doctor. He’s starting to look nervous, and it scares Amy. His real superpower is hiding his emotions: when he gets too anxious to do that, they’re really in trouble. “I can feel it coming. I’m not sure how, but it is. Keeping busy seems to help the others, but for me - the more frantic I get, the faster it comes.”

He shrugs, trying and failing to seem nonchalant as he looks away from them. “I suppose I’ll provide a lot of energy.”

Rose walks up to him, slowly, and puts her hand on his shoulder, facing away from Amy. It’s the first time she’s touched him this whole time, and Amy doesn’t miss the small tremor that runs through him.

She’s figured it out, Amy realizes. If they’re being killed by their faith, the Doctor-

“You will,” says Rose, quietly. Amy feels like she should turn around or something. He’s never like this with her - even when he’s sure they’re going to die, he’s manic and hopeful until the end. It’s Rose’s presence that’s made him this delicate, and it feels wrong that she’s watching.

She doesn’t turn away, though.

“You will provide a lot of energy. But not for the reason you’re thinking.”

The Doctor furrows his brow and looks at her.

“It’s belief, Doctor.”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple working. “What?”

“Showing people their worst fears makes them think of what they believe in,” says Rose. “When they focus on their belief, they have more energy, and that energy is easier to harness. You’ve done it before, although to a much smaller extent. Remember-”

“-Martha?” finishes the Doctor. He looks up, away from Rose’s face. “Of course I do. I could never for- I will always remember.”

“Good,” says Rose. “She deserves it. But- Doctor, you’re a prime candidate. Do you see why?”

The Doctor looks back to her face. Something must click, because the confused lines on his forehead clear. “Oh.”

“Yes,” says Rose. “You came- love, I’m sorry, but you came running straight to me. The source of your fear was your faith and the hotel only made you believe in me more and-”

“But I've seen a lot of this universe,” says the Doctor, quietly. It sounds like he’s quoting something. “I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in-”

“Stop it,” says Rose, her voice shaking. “Don’t do that.”

“I will always do this,” says the Doctor, his voice going faint with horror. His worst fear, thinks Amy. “I will always-”

“You need to stop it!” says Rose, her voice getting louder. She still sounds shaken. “It puts you in danger! You’re about to die, Doctor! You can’t keep running towards me when you spot the barest hint of a chance-”

The Doctor raises his voice to match her volume. “Tough luck, Rose Tyler!” he shouts. He steps backwards, away from her. “Because I will always need you! I need you enough that I saw you when I had to make the hardest choice of my lives! The only reason I was able to make that decision was because you were there. I hadn’t even met you yet, but the worst weapon my people had ever made knew that your face was its best chance to convince me not to commit geno-”

Rose takes her own step back. She shakes her head, like she understands what he’s saying but doesn’t want to believe him. “What?”

“Yes,” he says. “You were there.”

She turns around to look at Amy as if she can’t handle what he’s saying. Amy has no idea what he’s talking about, but she nods at her. Keep going. It’s a good, important thing she’s telling him - he seems unable to find closure for anyone he loses, just locks it up inside. If Rose can convince him to let go of her-

Rose turns back to the Doctor. “You didn’t need me,” she says. “You could have done it.”

“You don’t know that,” says the Doctor.

“Yes, I do,” she says. “I believe in you. You would have done it because it was the right thing to do, no matter how much it hurt you.”

The Doctor stays silent. Rose sighs. “Doctor, I mean it. You don’t need me. You need to let me go.”

“No,” he says. “My worst fear is the fact that I’ll always come running, and that I will never be able to do anything without you. But- Rose, I can’t just kick you out of my life. Ten tried. It didn’t go well for him, emotionally.”

“I’m not telling you to,” she says. “Lord knows, I never want you to forget about me, and I definitely don’t want you to repeat what he did. But you didn’t need me for this. Amy figured it all out on her own. All she asked me for was our history, and you could have given her that. Doctor-”

She sighs.

“You need closure. You’ve been doing just fine without me for so long, and this- this open wound, it can hurt you when you least expect it.”

It reminds Amy of times he’s frozen at the wrong moment, reminded of someone he’d lost centuries ago. Rose is right.

“Or someone could manipulate it,” says Rose. The Doctor looks hurt, like what she’s saying is a betrayal of everything he’s known about her. Amy isn’t sure if it’s the general betrayal of you’re making me deal with my emotions or if it’s a deeper issue. “You need to heal.”

The Doctor frowns at her, opening his mouth to argue before hesitating.

Oh, thinks Amy, realizing what’s happening. Rose is breaking his faith in her - and at the same time, his fear of her - in the most loving way she can manage, both by making him realize he needs to move on and making it easy for him to do so.

She’s probably been planning it since they figured out what was going on in this hotel. It’s why she’s looked so nervous - nervous and sad - this entire time.

It makes Amy want to cry. It’s a good thing, and the right thing to do, but it feels like the end of something that has defined him.

“Of course Amy figured it out,” says the Doctor, eventually. “Amy’s spectacular.” Warmth blooms in Amy’s chest, the way it always does when he compliments her.

Rose sighs.

He shrugs. “And that’s why I take companions. I can’t do this alone, Rose.”

“Of course,” she says. “But you don’t need me.”

“No. Not like I did. I got so used to needing you that when I stopped-”

He brushes a strand of Rose’s hair out of her eyes. She laughs a little. The sound is wet.

“You have a point,” he says. “About the letting-go thing. I suppose. I guess- I only need-”

With his hand still in her hair, he leans down and whispers something into her ear. When he pulls back, Rose is crying, fully and openly, loud enough that even Amy can hear it.

“Do you think that’ll do it?” she says, eventually. “Is that- is that all you needed to tell me?”

The Doctor looks down, taking Rose’s hands in his own. “Just this more,” he says. “I will always miss you. I will never forget.”

“Good,” she says. “I’m sure the real me knows that too.”

Then she reaches up and flattens his hair. “Go on, then,” she says. “Go fix this. Save the others and get out of here.”

“Will do,” says the Doctor, smiling at her one last time. He grabs Amy’s hand on the way out.

Just before they leave the room, Amy glances back. Rose is smiling at them, still crying. As Amy watches, she wipes her eyes, winks at them, and then closes the door behind them.

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

Later, in the TARDIS, after they’ve set the Minotaur free (via death) and taken everyone home (all alive), Amy walks into the library holding a steaming cup of tea. She’s in her pajamas and looking forward to a book - a common late-night custom of hers, when Rory has already gone to sleep and she’s waiting for her internal clock to realize the hour - and is surprised to find the Doctor sitting on the couch. He almost never goes into the library.

“Hey,” she says, sitting on the loveseat, adjacent to him. “I never see you here.”

“Yes, well,” he says, closing his book. It’s an old, dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice. “Rose and I used to spend almost every evening in here. I thought- I thought it would be fitting to come back. Make some new memories, and all.”

“Yeah,” she says, reaching out to grab his book. He doesn’t stop her, so she flips open to the cover page.

Rose Tyler is written in the top left corner. Amy traces the loops of the letters and looks back up at the Doctor, who’s watching her with a fond smile.

“Tell me about her,” she says. Now that they’re finally out of danger, she can finally ask all the questions she wants without having to relate them back to the mystery. “She wasn’t always military, was she? What was she like?”

“Oh, Amy,” says the Doctor. He grins at her. “She was wonderful.”

and, when the time comes to let it

go,

to let it go.

#doctor who #eleven x rose #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #the god complex #fic: in blackwater woods #sb and l writes #dwfic #I DID IT!!#for those of you just seeing this: this fic is 9k #I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS MONSTER OF A POST

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ “Enigma” (Near/Nate River) [1 of ?]

Genre: Action, Supernatural, Angst, Crossover, Friendship ☁

Word Count: 3,319 ☁

Pairing: First Person x Near ☁

World: Death Note feat. Supernatural ☁

WARNING: Spoilers for episode season 1, episode 6 of Supernatural. If you want to want to skip the spoiler, skip the paragraph that starts with “To add to that”.

Author’s Note: This is written in the first person, featuring an OC named Rae Winchester, Dean and Sam’s cousin. You don’t have to be a fan of Supernatural to read this fic.

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Stifling a yawn, I slid the keycard into the lock, waiting for it to click before twisting the handle. A blast of cold air hit your face and you sighed in content. After being out in the hot Texas sun all day fighting off demons, it felt nice to find some cool air.

Sam shot up from the small round table near the door, his expression one of worry. “Where have you been?!”

I scowled, scratching my head. “I was working, what do you think.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“Uhh,” My mind flashed back to that morning. I had been fighting a rather large and ugly demon. My phone had rung and I got distracted for a moment, giving him an opportunity. He attacked, slamming me up against a brick wall. My phone fell out of my hand and smashed against the cement. “We should really invest in sturdier phones, Sam.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “That’s not important right now. We’ve got a problem,”

“What is it?” I asked, leaning against the counter.

“Dean was arrested,”

“Again?”

“This time it was the FBI,”

I groaned, falling into the chair across from him. “Of all the organizations, it just had to be those bastards.”

“We have to get him back, Rae.”

“You got a plan?” I questioned, leaning back in my chair.

He frowned, looking thoughtfully at his laptop. “I’m… working on it,”

I stood up, leaving him to his thoughts as I stepped back outside into the heat. The door clicked behind me and I leaned against it, pulling my pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I lit it up before taking a long drag.

My name is Rae Winchester and I’m a hunter. That is, I make a living off of killing non-human creatures that plague our world. Dean and Sam are my cousins, but they practically raised me and I view them more like brothers. Both of them are older than me, Dean being the eldest brother. They’re also hunters, but they chose a different path than I did.

While I take jobs and get paid to kill things, they prefer to hunt in secret and without pay. In order to get by, they commit petty theft – money, identities, credit cards. They’ve stolen it all at one point or another.

To add to that, a long time ago Sam and Dean were investigating a case in Missouri which turned out to be a shapeshifter – a creature that could take on the form of anyone it wants. When it became aware that it was being hunted, it changed itself to look like Dean before attacking and murdering a couple people. Ever since then, he has been on and off the Most Wanted list.

I’ve done my best to use my connections to their fullest extent to protect him, but even if I get the record erased from the system, there are still those hard-pressed agents that are determined to ‘bring him to justice’.

Justice… what a joke.

I threw my cigarette down onto the ground, stomping it out with my boot.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

I tucked the white button-up shirt into my slacks before pulling my suit jacket on and buttoning it up. I glanced at Sam as he waited by the door, dressed in his own suit.

Before leaving the hotel room we were staying in, Sam grabbed my shoulder. “Please be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.”

“Hmph, careful is my middle name, Sammy,” I responded, straightening the tie. I grabbed the wallet with my fake badge inside and tucked into the back pocket of my slacks before leaving the room. I headed downstairs, keeping my head held high as we exited the hotel. One thing I had learned over the years is that if you act confident like you’re the most important person in the world, people will start to believe it, and I did just that. Anyone that dared look at us, I glared at them in turn and they quickly averted their gaze.

The FBI headquarters that Dean was being held at was in New York City.

We stepped into the building like we owned it, heading for the security gate. The guard eyed us suspiciously as I stepped up to the keypad, scanning my badge. It clicked and the gate unlocked, swinging open. The guard nodded his head and we stepped through the metal detector without a problem.

It’s times like these that I’m glad I don’t use guns. Not that I have to, all things considered.

The woman standing in the elevator saw us approaching and held the door. Sam and I stepped onto the elevator and he thanked her. The door slid closed and the elevator lurched as it started its ascent.

“What floor?” She asked, her hand hovering over the panel.

“Twenty-four, please,” I answered.

She pressed it before looking at Sam.

“I’m also going to the twenty-fourth floor,”

She nodded, lowering her hand.

The two of us made small talk until the woman got off on the tenth floor.

“What’s the plan?” Sam asked, adjusting his tie.

“Find Dean,”

He looked at me in disbelief, “Please tell me there’s more than that…”

“Nope,”

“Plan B?”

“I don’t think they sell that here, Sammy.”

He deadpanned. “Not funny,”

I shrugged. “Never said it was. Look, all you have to do is find Dean. Once you find him, let me know and I’ll create a distraction. During the chaos, you grab him and run. Simple, yeah?”

Sam frowned, shifting from one leg to the other. “You better not die,”

“I won’t,”

“I won’t forgive you if you do,”

“I’m not going to die, Sam.” I glanced at him. “At least not yet,” I glanced at the numbers surging past on the LED screen above the door. “Look alive, we’re almost there,”

He straightened up as the doors slid open, stepping out and heading to the left. I went right.

Although it was only one floor, there was a lot of ground to cover and while our badges could get us past any of the security clearance levels, the people couldn’t be bypassed so easily. I wasn’t too worried about myself, I know I can handle their attacks, but Sam is a different story.

My hands clenched at my sides. Rescuing Dean was not my top priority – keeping them alive was.

I followed the hallway, glancing into each room with a window. I felt someone pass by me, but I paid it no mind. I wasn’t interested in the agents here, but I suddenly felt a strange feeling overcome me. What was this raw emotion I was feeling? Was it… a challenge?

I turned around, surprised to find the aura radiating off of a young boy. He stood in the middle of the hall, watching me through blank, calculating eyes. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen. What was a kid so young doing at the FBI headquarters?

“Hey, kid. I’m looking for someone. His name is Dean Winchester, you seen him?” I questioned.

His expression did not change, he just tilted his head slightly and started to twirl a piece of his snow-white hair around a pale finger. “You don’t belong here,” he stated, monotonously.

My eyes narrowed. I just fucking got here, there’s no way in hell I’m letting him ruin it this early. “Listen, kid, I don’t have time for games. It’s important that I find this man. Do you know where he is or not?”

He nodded but said nothing.

My eye twitched. This kid unnerved me. Why was his expression so blank? Was he a fucking robot? Forget it, I’m wasting time. Without another word, I turned and continued down the hall.

He followed me. I could feel his presence behind me. Despite his age, it felt like a lion stalking its prey.

Seriously, what is with this kid? I can’t sense any demon blood in him. He smells completely human… so why is he giving off such a strong aura? It didn’t make any sense.

I stopped, turning around to scowl at me. “Stop following me,”

“You don’t belong here,” He repeated.

“Pretty sure a kid doesn’t belong here either,” I scoffed. Should I show him my badge? It’s the highest quality forgery available, I paid top dollar for it and it’s never failed me in the past, but something about this kid made me hesitate. I knew deep down that he would be able to see through it. Before I could speak again, a shrill voice interrupted me.

“What do we have here~? Is that a she-demon I see?”

My body tensed at the familiar voice and I turned around, hoping that I was wrong. Standing at the end of the hall was a woman named Marnie. As usual, she was dressed in a skimpy outfit, the color pink being the primary color from head to toe. A large feather boa was wrapped around her neck.

“You have got to be kidding me,”

She smirked, folding her arms under her breasts, pushing them up and making them appear larger. “Imagine meeting you here of all places. It must be fate~!”

A sick, twisted fate maybe. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

“I charmed them, of course. One look and all the boys do my bidding without question.” She giggled, wrapping her arms tighter around her.

“Isn’t there some magical law against that or something?” I asked, rubbing the back of my head. What was I going to do? It would be bad enough that I have to fight off these damned FBI agents until Sam and Dean can get away, but now I have to fight off a witch too? Anytime you’d like to give me a break, universe.

I suddenly remembered the kid behind me and cursed. If we start fighting, he’s going to get hurt. Damn it.

She giggled again. “Of course there is, silly~ But rules don’t apply to me. I can charm anything with my magic. The world is my playground~!”

“Sounds fascinating,” I said dryly. “Well it was great catching up with you, gotta go.” I turned on my heel, grabbing the boys arm and speed walking back the way I came. I could feel the magic barreling towards me and I dodged, pushing the kid against the wall. A ball of pink energy whizzed past at an alarming speed before exploding at the other end of the hall. Alarms started to go off.

“Fuck my life,” I groaned, glancing down at the kid. He was staring at Marnie with wide, emotionless eyes. I shook his body lightly to get his attention, keeping my eyes on the witch as she approached. “Listen, kid. I’m gonna distract her. When I rush her, I want you to run in the opposite direction. Don’t stop, don’t look back. Just go, understand?”

He didn’t answer, not that I expected him to. I pushed him behind me, unbuttoning the suit jacket and loosening the tie.

“Ya know, I was set to go on vacation tomorrow. Peace and quiet without work for a week,” I sighed. “No witches, no demons, no fucking idiots for a full week. Is that so much to ask?”

“Come now, She-Demon, you know you can’t get rid of us that easily,” Her eyes narrowed and they started to glow. Before she could fire off another blast of energy, I rushed her, pulling my fist back and connecting it with her jaw. She slid back, her heels digging into the carpet. When she lifted her head, her eyes were glowing stronger, anger clear on her face. She thrust her hand forward and another ball of energy shot towards me. I dodged right as it got close and it whizzed past, colliding with the group of FBI agents that had just turned the corner, weapons drawn. They cried as it hit them, sending them flying against the wall.

My eyes quickly scanned the are behind me. The kid was gone. I sighed in relief.

“How dare you take your attention off me,” Marnie hissed, now in front of me. I didn’t react in time and she flew around, her heeled foot slamming into my stomach. The wall behind me cracked on impact and I grunted, feeling the heel slice the skin through the white button-up.

I grabbed her ankle, pressing hard into the ground to keep myself steady. “God, you’re so annoying!” I cried, kicking her other leg from underneath her. I pulled a knife from my sock and rammed it into her skin. She cried out, sending an uncontrolled burst of energy at my hand. I released her ankle and scrambled out of the way. It hit the wall, increasing the dent from my body.

“Come on, Sam,” I growled into the earpiece.

More agents rounded the corner, their guns pointed at us. They were all shouting at us to get down, their voices overlapping one another and drowned out by the shrill sound of the alarm.

“I’ve got him!” Sam’s voice rang through the earpiece. “We’re clear!”

Perfect, now I just gotta get my ass out of here. I glanced behind me. It was a dead-end, but there was a large window off to the left. Well, I can’t exactly use the elevator now, can I.

I smirked at the agents that were slowly advancing. “I’d love to stay for tea, but I’m gonna miss my train. Later, boys!” I turned on my heel and darted for the end of the hall. They started to shoot, but their aim sucked.

Marnie cried out in anger and I looked behind me in time to see her slam her fist into the ground. It shattered in a flash of neon pink, the burst of light engulfing the hall. I knew this was gonna hurt…

The light exploded, thrusting me out the window. The glass scraped my skin, but none of the wounds felt too deep. The wind ripped around my body as gravity started to take over and I started to fall towards the Earth.

This is also gonna hurt…

My body slammed into the cement a couple blocks away from the building, in an alley behind a fish market. I landed a foot away from the dumpster, my body digging into the cement and pulling the dumpster over. It landed on top of me, spilling its contents.

I should have let the agents shoot me. It would have been less painful.

Sam came rushing over, his face a mixture of worry and disgust. “Are you… are you okay?”

I grunted, shoving the dumpster off of me. My clothes were wet with blood and rotten fish guts. “What the fuck do you think?”

He held his hand out and I took it, muttering about witches.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” I scoffed, kicking the dumpster across the alley.

“You’re not getting paid at all,” Sam responded, his voice muffled by the shirt he was holding over his nose.

“That’s the point, Sam!”

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I sat down on the park bench, watching the sun set on the horizon. The park was located on the edge of the river, so the sun was reflecting on the water. If I didn’t hate the sun so damn much, I might even consider it to be beautiful.

A week had passed since we rescued Dean from the FBI headquarters. The boys had left New York immediately, heading over to Oregon to investigate a string of mysterious disappearances. I headed over to Maine to recover from the fish hell I had experienced.

Even now, news stations and papers were going nuts reporting on the incident, which they labeled as “an act of terrorism”. What little bit of camera footage that Marnie hadn’t destroyed with her blast of anger was tampered with by an accomplice that worked for me. He’s considered one of the best hackers in the world – there’s very little he can’t get his digital hands on. With this, the FBI had no faces, names or leads. The only thing they could clearly report was that their prisoner had escaped during the chaos.

“Ren,”

I snapped out of my thoughts, looking over at Detective Kim as he approached me. “Sup, detective? Must be important to ask me out like this.”

He nodded, holding out a manila folder. I took it from his hands, flipping it open. The report was about a string of serial murders in Salt Lake City. There was also a report on a missing girl named Sarah Adams.

Detective Kim pointed at her photograph. “She was kidnapped sometime between the first and fifth murder.”

“What makes you so sure they’re connected?”

“He left his calling card,”

I flipped the page, seeing a photograph of this calling card he mentioned. It was a pirate flag with a bloody dagger stuck in the center, right over the left eye of the skull pattern. What a weird calling card. “Pretty extra if you ask me. What’s so special about this girl, anyway?”

“She’s the niece of the senator,” He folded his arms, turning to look at the last of the sun as it sunk in the distance. “The higher-ups are breathing down my neck for results. I’m doing the best I can, but at the end of the day, I’m just a man.”

“Hmm,” I continued to flip through the pages, looking for any information that may be key items.

“You’ll be paid for your work, of course.” He commented, glancing at me from under the brim of his hat. “You’ll also have my eternal gratitude,”

“Eternal gratitude?” I echoed, slapping the folder closed. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Count me in.”

I saw the corner of his lips tugging up, but he held back the smile. “I’m counting on you, Winchester.”

“Yes, yes. Have I ever let you down in the past?” I asked, meeting his gaze. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

“Just don’t make a national headline out of it like you did in New York.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” I scowled, standing up off the bench. “How the fuck was I supposed to know that a witch would show up to ruin my life?”

“I thought that was a typical day for you?” He raised a brow, an amused glint in his eye.

I pointed my index finger at him, ready to argue, but then I paused. “Fair point,”

He chuckled, patting my shoulder before turning and walking away. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, Winchester! I might have to rethink my eternal gratitude.”

You grinned at his back before walking in the opposite direction, the file tucked under your arm.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You stepped into the police department, approaching the front desk. “I need to speak to Detective Kim,”

“Detective Kim isn’t in right now,”

“When will he be back?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t disclose that information. Would you like to leave a message for him?”

“No,” I scowled, turning around and exiting the station. I stopped on the steps, lighting up a cigarette. Where the hell was he? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for three days to no avail. It wasn’t like him to dodge my calls, especially when I’m working on a case. This wasn’t like him. Had something happened?

I walked down the steps, taking a drag of the cigarette.

“Winchester!”

“Heh?” I stopped at the bottom of the steps, turning to look at the man rushing down the steps. He was wearing a police uniform, but I didn’t recognize his face.

“You’re looking for Detective Kim, aren’t you?” He questioned, his brow furrowed.

“Depends who’s asking,”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he took off his hat. “My name is Rodriquez. I know you’re close to the Detective, that’s why I came after you.”

“Has something happened?” I questioned, giving him my full attention.

“I think so,” He frowned. “He hasn’t come to work in a week! The higherups are keeping it pretty hush-hush, or at least trying to, but I overheard Detective Niel talking about it. No one knows where he is. I went to his apartment yesterday and talked to his neighbors. They haven’t seen him either,”

The hell? I turned and started to walk away.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I scowled at him over my shoulder. “I’m going to find him,” I pulled my phone out as I walked away from the station, dialing his number for the umpteenth time. I didn’t expect him to answer, but I stopped when the line clicked.

A distorted voice came over the line. “Detective Kim is currently unavailable,”

Is this a fucking two-bit horror movie? What’s with the voice changer? I scowled, “Who is this?”

“You may call me N,”

Guess we’re passed using actual names. “And where is the Detective?”

“He is safe. For now,”

“What do you want with him?”

“That is of no concern to you,” The voice paused for a moment. “I wonder… can you find him?” The line went dead.

My hand clenched around the phone, cracking the screen. Son of a bitch doesn’t know who he’s messing with!

Okay, calm down and focus. Breathe – in and out. In and out.

I closed my eyes, picturing the apartment building that Seven lived in. I felt my body shifting like it had become a liquid swirling inside a tornado. The sound of wind whipped past my ears before suddenly stopping. It felt as if I was speeding fast and then suddenly came to a dead stop. When I opened my eyes, I was standing in front of the apartment building in Seoul, South Korea.

I tilted my neck right to left, cracking it. I’ve teleported so many times, but I don’t think I’d ever get used to the feeling.

I ran up the stairs to the third floor and banged on apartment number 412. It was late her in Seoul, around four in the morning. I banged louder, considering just picking the lock or kicking the door in.

The door opened, revealing a half-asleep Seven. He rubbed his eyes, squinting at me. “Boss?”

I pushed past him, stepping into the dark apartment. “I have a job for you,”

He stifled a yawn, shutting and locking the door. “Can I have a minute to wake up?”

“Make it a fast minute,” I ordered, watching him shuffle down the hall and into the bathroom. I opened his fridge, grabbing a can of soda and sitting down on the couch. He came back five minutes later, carrying his laptop, which he sat down on the table in front of the couch.

He entered the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea. “What is it you need, boss?”

I pulled out my phone, dropping it onto the table beside his laptop. “I need you to track a number. Something tells me it’s being blocked, but if anyone can find it, it’s you.”

He raised a brow as he sat down on the floor, his back resting against the couch. “That’s… Detective Kim’s number, right?”

“Yeah. He’s been missing for a week according to a co-worker. I’ve been calling him for three days to update him on a case,” I explained, sitting back on the couch as he booted up the laptop. “I tried calling him again a few minutes ago after I left the police station. Someone answered, using a voice changer.”

“A voice changer?” He glanced back at me. “People actually do that?”

“Apparently,” I scoffed. The phone started to vibrate right as he picked it up.

Seven lifted the phone over his head and behind him. “It’s Dean,”

I slipped it out of his hand and pressed it to my ear. “Hey, Dean. What’s up?”

“Hey, kiddo. What are you up to?”

“Nothing. What do you need?”

“Me and Sammy are in Missouri and we need your help,”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ll be there soon,” I ended the call and handed the phone back to Seven. “Call Sam or Dean when you’ve traced the call.”

“Roger~”

I closed my eyes and concentrated again. The familiar feeling washed over me as I teleported.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

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doof-doofblog · 3 years

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"You're Better Off Leaving Walford ... For Good!"

Monday 14th December 2020

Hello again everyone! Hope your week is going well so far. I believe there is so much going on in the soap that I have missed so many important moments, I'm hoping over today and tomorrow I'll be able to catch up! Firstly, I want to reveal two pieces of news which I have found out recently. I'm not too sure how much truth there is in these reports, but one being that there will be an episode where Ian has a flashback of the night of his attack, interestingly the flashback will revolve around Ben!! What is it that he'll remember? Also, again I'm not too sure what truth there is in this but Ian's attacker will be revealed on Christmas Day! Christmas is always an exciting time for soaps, its when secrets are revealed, hearts are broken and the drama is absolutely explosive! I also believe that Christmas Day will also see the return of Lucas Johnson and Chelsea Fox - THAT I am incredibly excited for!!

But before we get over our heads, lets focus on Monday's episode. Wow! Another brilliant episode! I'm going to start with Ian and the rest of the Beale family. Ian has finally been allowed to leave the hospital, as he arrives back in Walford in a taxi, everyone watches him as he arrives back on the Square. I just want to mention how amazing this opening scene was. Everywhere he turned he saw a possible suspect - Max, Ben, Tina, Suki, Kheerat, Peter, Stuart and Rainie! His eyes are in complete panic as he realises that it's someone he knows who attacked him. It's brilliant how every suspect stares at him with evil eyes, making it even more unnerving and leaving the viewers guessing who the hell the guilty one is! I don't know why but I just really loved the opening scene, I thought it was absolutely brilliant!

Is anyone else loving the fact that Kim is back? Sorry but I just have to mention how much I love her character, I have truly missed her bubbliness, her banter, everything! Every scene she's in she just sparkles! She's absolutely fabulous! I am thrilled to have her back on the Square. I love how "subtle" she is when it comes to her asking Denise for a job at the salon. She makes this brilliant statement that she's ready to come back and focus on her "Career", especially now little Pearl's Christmas list is miles long! Unfortunately, Denise is unable to give Kim her job back straight away, and of course in typical Kim style, she laughs it off and insists she didn't mean straight away, just at some point in the future! However as much as she puts on a front to her sister, deep down we can all tell she's a little bit disappointed. Only later on when she's in the Cafe, again brilliantly she has a word with Kathy regarding the possibility of Tina going to prison (which we can't even say for sure yet!), Kathy may be stuck with staff. But when Kathy suggests her working at the Cafe, Kim lets out that brilliant squeaky laugh and proposes she has a role at the Prince Albert instead, to her surprise, Kathy agrees and tells her to go there the following day. Is it just for a trial? Something tells me that Kim would look fantastic working at the Prince Albert, it's completely up her street and she'd fit in perfectly! I can't wait to see scenes of her working there!

Another important moment I want to reflect on, revolving around the Beale family, is Bobby. Kathy approaches her Grandson and asks why he confessed to crime that he didn't do. You can see that she's trying her best to understand her Grandson's actions, what thoughts are going through his head? What made him confess? As she tries ask him many questions, Bobby seems to get frustrated, he seems to think his Nan will ever be able to understand his ways. Even when she tries to get Callum in to help talk to her Grandson, Bobby isn't interested at first but Callum puts him completely at ease - as he's pretty much just talking to a mate - Bobby finally feels comfortable in telling them about his feelings. Callum recalls his fellow army cadet having PTSD that it would cause him to act in the way Bobby does, count, check things multiple times before leaving the house, but when Callum suggest it could be OCD - it kind of makes me think that Bobby could have either of those conditions. OCD or PTSD - to say Bobby hasn't experienced trauma would be completely and utterly wrong, so it would make sense that it could be PTSD. (I'm hoping the true meaning for his condition will come to light very soon!) But interestingly, when it comes to his "Convulsions", I believe that's the term Kathy used for it, she questions whether it has something to do with his religion or whether it's something else, however Bobby admits to his Nan that he feels it's just something he has to do. But when Kathy suggests he tries to speak to his therapist about it, Bobby reveals that his brother thought it wasn't a good idea. This news shocks Kathy, that her Grandson knew about his brother's condition and did nothing to help, not even mention it to any of the other family members. She rushes to find Peter, finding him on the Square. Now this is where everything takes a horrible, yet interesting turn - As Kathy confronts Peter, he reveals that he actually enjoyed seeing Bobby suffer, he admits he can't forgive his younger brother for what he did to Lucy, and to watch Bobby suffer by tearing himself apart, he secretly loved it! Peter has gotten completely dark since he returned to the Square, he clearly has a deep hatred for his brother - then again, is hatred the right word?! Either way, Peter seems to be holding a lot of anger towards his family right now, as all the commotion is happening on the Square, Ian and Sharon run out to see what's happening, it's then that Peter focuses his anger towards his Father, revealing to everyone that he stole money from his supposed favourite child! Of course finding out your twin sister being your Dad's favourite must be devastating to hear, but he can't believe his Dad would stoop so low to steal from his own dead daughter. But interestingly, he then turns to Kathy - blaming her for everything that's happened to the Beale family, stating the fact that she left and everyone assumed she was dead - whilst Peter is having his rant in the middle of the Square, Ben notices the commotion from a distance and sees Peter insulting his Mum, Ben takes it into his own hands to confront Peter and pushes him to the ground. Now this is where things get increasingly tense!! Ian watches in pure fear as he watches his brother stand over his son! Ahhhh so this is where the flashback I was speaking about earlier happens, Ian has a flashback of the night of his attack, we see Ben standing over him (although not holding a weapon I have to add) and stating the words "You had it coming!". Suddenly Ian seems to instantly put two and two together and states that it was Ben who attacked him! Not long after Ben is arrested for attempted murder, Ben tries to voice his innocence but he's quickly forced into a police car and he informs Jay to get hold of Ritchie as soon as he can!

In other parts of the Square, Kush has been released on bail after giving himself up to the police. Kat is pleased to see him, but livid that he gave himself up behind her back. Kush admits he's literally trying to do the right thing for his family and maybe after a couple of years behind bars, he and Kat might be able to move away and start a fresh away from the Square. However, when Kat delivers to him the devastating blow that Phil only paid them half of what they're owed from the robbery job, Kush isn't happy! He takes it upon himself to pay Phil a visit, but what happens next is very intriguing. Kush informs Phil that he hasn't reported any of the Mitchell's and it's only right that he pays the rest of the money they're owed. However he does want one thing from him, he wants support from Phil - I'm assuming that means money or something of that kind? - to help him and Kat build a future for when he leaves prison. But Phil insists that if he's going agree to help him, then Kush has to do something for him in return. Later on when Kush reunites with Kat, he informs her that Phil has given them the rest of the money they're owed, but there's a catch - for them to be able to receive his support for a better future once Kush leaves prison, Kush has to take the rap for other dodgy dealings and other petty crimes that they've taken part in, which could mean that Kush might be behind bars for a lot longer than first anticipated.

The final thing I want to focus on is the Carter family. At first, Mick's day seems to start off happily as her gets ready to take little Ollie to school. (Again, I just need to mention how bloody adorable the little lad who plays Ollie is! He's so cute!!!) Only as soon as he gets ready, Linda walks in and insists that she takes their son to school, they make very little small talk as she mentions that she's working. Mick questions her whether Max can't handle working on his own, in way making small dig at her co-worker. She then informs her husband that Max in fact has a day off, insinuating the fact that she probably wont be any where near him. With that Linda leaves with Ollie and Mick is left alone once again as he tries calling Katy. Whilst Linda and Mick get on with their day - Mick trying to get hold of Katy and Linda working, and very much flirting, with Max (even though he's not supposed to be there) - Tina is trying her absolute best to track down this mystery pizza boy, who turns out to be the only one who can give her an alibi. She's searching high and low, calling all sorts of different companies in an attempt to locate this pizza boy. However, it's only when Shirley suggests she tries approaching local companies, she may have a better chance of finding him. Taking her sister's advice, she approaches Max in his restaurant asking whether he may have some knowledge about who the boy may be, Max tries to be considerate and help her out but acknowledges that he's busy but may not find the time. As Tina takes her leave, she notices the body language between Linda and Max as she watches them from a distance, she notices how cosy they look and how flirtatious they're being together. Something doesn't sit right with her, so she takes it upon herself to inform her brother, of course being sisterly she thinks she's doing the right thing in informing him that his wife could possibly be having an affair. However, when it comes clear to hear that Mick is already aware about his wife's fling with Max, she's become more shocked at the fact that he's not doing anything about it, and just letting it happen. She voices her concerns to her brother, informing him that she's done everything she can to help him because she loves him, but every time she reaches out he throws it back in her face. She leaves, leaving Mick desperate to speak to Katy once again, this time he informs her he's going to reveal everything to Linda about what he's feeling.

On the Square, as Mick makes his way to find his wife, Katy stops him in his tracks and asks him to get her drink before he makes any rash decisions. Something doesn't fit right with me, why did Katy rush to meet him? He's been calling her all day and yet all of a sudden, when he reveals he's going to open up to Linda, she comes running! However what happened next really shook me, Katy is even more evil as we first anticipated. Mick reveals that his marriage hasn't been good for months, how he and Linda don't even speak to each other anymore. There used to be a time when they told each other everything, but since Frankie and Katy turned up on the Square, things have changed drastically. Mick reveals he wants to get things back on track with his wife, he's fretting of loosing her to Max, he wants to save his marriage before it's too late, and maybe if he was to finally come clean to his wife about his recent feelings and emotions, it may help. But Katy completely and utterly manipulates him by stating that there isn't anything left of his marriage to save. She voice that Linda has already moved on, the fact she's cheated on him with Max means that their marriage is already over. I am completely stunned to what she's telling him, feeding lies into his ear - completely manipulating his thoughts. She's twisting things so her evil dark secret won't come out, that's what it is!!! I do fear though that Mick will agree with her, at this moment in time, Katy seems to be the one he's counting on - not realising her dark evil twisted ways.

I feel like there are so many twists and turns at the moment, I have no idea what's coming next! I, personally don't think Ben attacked Ian, or at least I'd like to think it wasn't him. Something tells me Ben wanted to confront Ian but my guess is that Ian had already been attacked when Ben arrived at the Vic. Ben was the first to see him on the floor, he didn't act to help his brother - hence why he said "You had it coming!" - as he was out for revenge also, but to keep himself away from the crime scene, he quickly left the pub. That's my theory anyway! I do think it could be Peter, Kheerat or Sharon! Regarding Katy - I hope her evil past is revealed soon - I don't know how much more I can take of seeing Mick looking so depressed and lost. Not in a fed up way, but how horrible it is watching a character who's incredibly well liked by the community and all his family, just deteriorate so much and push all his loved ones away and dealing with something so horrendous all on his own - and not talking!! I mean, Danny Dyer has been fantastic during this storyline and I honestly can't wait to see how it all comes to light!

I apologise for this post being so late but I hope you'll all enjoy reading! I'll be back tomorrow for another post! Enjoy the rest of your evening folks! Love you all xXx

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halfwayinlight · 4 years

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cross-posted on AO3. written for @nothingeverlost.

Title: Steeplechase

Rating: Teen

Set during the events of Star Trek The Next Generation’s Season 2′s episode “Manhunt”

Deanna Troi is never—ever—prepared for her mother to arrive. It occurs to her that even if she knew her mother was planning to arrive, there would be no way to prepare. She’s never been able to predict what her mother will do next. Or say next. After twenty-nine years, she feels like she should know her own mother better. Be able to anticipate something, anything with her mother around.

The only thing that is certain with Lwaxana Troi is that the unexpected will usually happen.

She should’ve known something was amiss as soon as her mother asked Jean-Luc to carry her luggage. It’s not only the informality of the Captain’s first name in that request that chafes Deanna. There’s something more at play, and she will later regret that it takes her so long to put the pieces together. It was something of a feat of strength, of Lwaxana sizing up the options from the very moment she stepped off of the transporter platform.

And, of course, Will had to be both an officer and a gentleman and step in. Later, Deanna will wonder if things would’ve turned out quite the same way had Will not taken it upon himself to insist on carrying the absurdly too large and over-packed luggage. It’s a monstrosity that Lwaxana Troi takes pride in. Her mother definitely hates transporters. And she has a horror of replicators.

Deanna is aware that Will is going to pay for his gesture later—either trying to ignore the ache in his back all during shift or he will slink down to sickbay and try to get one of the nurses to quietly treat it. It won’t work. Kate Pulaski seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to senior staff in her sickbay. She won’t lecture him like Beverly would’ve. But she’ll tut at him and patch him up. Admittedly, Will is hard to miss in any room—particularly when he’s really hurting, which turns him into a bear with thorn in its paw.

It was bad enough that her mother pursued the Captain. Lwaxana’s always gotten a thrill out of teasing and prodding him. Within the first hour of her mother’s arrival, Deanna put the edges of the puzzle together. She could feel the shift in her mother’s focus, which was a polite term for the building urges that were as obvious to Deanna as Red Alert klaxons.

It’s her mother’s comment that the captain is as charming as her father that unnerves her. And she cannot and will not stop herself from confronting Lwaxana about it. It angers her the way her mother is brushing this all off.

As though it wasn’t significant.

As though it’s a game.

As though this isn’t Deanna’s world. Her professional life.

As though this isn’t a time when her mother should be far more cautious than ever.

Many a Betazoid has come out the other side of The Phase with regrets. Some have left Betazoid society over the aftermath of their actions during such a time. Their society is permissive and understanding, but Lwaxana is something like royalty. And acting as an official representative and there are roles she must still uphold.

She thought she had covered her bases, as Will would say. It was too easy to simply send the Captain off to an unreachable, fictional world in the holodeck. Deanna can handle the small eruption of Mount St Lwaxana. But the “other plan” is even more unsettling. Because her mother isn’t sharing, and she can’t possibly imagine what that might be. What poor, unsuspecting other soul that her mother is setting her sights on. A small part of her wishes it could be Mr. Homn. Mr. Homn would be convenient, but if that were the case her mother would’ve already made that choice.

This was no child’s game, nor mere entertainment. Lwaxana Troi was being driven by physiology. And she was nothing, if not highly adaptable.

It should have been taboo.

Deanna objects, strongly. Adamantly. Not him! But Deanna can’t find a vocabulary, spoken or telepathic, to answer why not. Because. Because it’s him. And in any case, that should’ve ended anything and everything for her mother right there. Full stop.

But there is absolutely no stopping her mother. She shouldn’t have even been on the bridge in the first place. And now, now… Not only is her mother looking him up and down, but she’s sitting in Will’s seat. Her fingers are twitching with the formation of a plan, and Deanna is uncomfortable in her own chair. She’s on edge. And a headache is building as she tries to tease out what in all the galaxies her mother is doing.

Praying her mother’s sights aren’t going to be set on some poor, unsuspecting other. Like Wesley Crusher sitting in front of them. Four Deities, No! she begs.

But things go into motion faster than she could’ve expected. It’s like a ship wrecking simultaneously in a second and also in slow motion. And Deanna can’t object fast enough and can’t look away. She barely breathes out a no. But that word seems to mean nothing to her mother. She wants to scream it. To stamp her foot on the deck and protest. To command Worf to lock her mother up in the brig for all their sakes. But the words are caught in her throat.

And when Deanna finally has the presence of mind to act, a hand on her forearm stops her short. It’s Will. He’s never once stopped her like this before. The gesture is all First Officer. And she’s so angry that her words are barbed. She knows she’s the coward, not Will. She should’ve shut this down hours ago because somebody absolutely has to put some boundaries on her mother.

Later, Deanna will be thankful that Data uncharacteristically steps between them with his strange request for a delay before finding the captain. It prevents her from indulging in the number of acerbic comments on the tip of her tongue. Things she might regret having said on the bridge later.

“Ready Room,” Will says calmly but firmly as Data disappears into the turbo lift. It’s not a request, and his head nods toward the door indicating he’s waiting on her.

Deanna Troi has already been an indirect party to one scene today, and she’s not able to be part of another. Not on the bridge, not among the alpha shift she regularly serves with—and the way gossip travels, all the other shifts will know within a day. So she marches toward the ready room, barely restraining herself from stomping her way there. As soon as the door shuts as Will passes through, she whirls on him. “Why didn’t you stop her? She’s completely out of control, and she’s embarrassing herself.”

“She’s embarrassing you,” Will answered quietly, his voice at the pitch she uses in her professional role. “And I’m sorry for that, but any further attempt to address the issue in front of the crew isn’t going to help matters.” He moves to the captain’s desk and leans against the edge of it.

Her arms are folded across her chest, shoulders tense, and she feels like a thundercloud. Or maybe that’s simply the turmoil in her mind and emotions. She wants to scream, but settles for stomping her foot childishly. When he didn’t react and didn’t add anything further, Deanna took a breath and began to deflate. “She’s on a self-destruct sequence.”

When she took the half step forward, his hand reached out to wrap around her upper arm and guide her slowly but steadily in until she pressed her head against his chest. “I want a nap,” she mumbled into his chest. His broad hand was cupping the back of her head, the way he knew made her feel protected. And when his thumb stroked soothingly over her temple, she felt the emotions she’d been fighting all day well over.

“It’s easier to be angry at her,” Deanna protested, trembling with the intensity of all of the feelings hitting at once.

“I can relieve you of duty,” it was a serious offer, given at face value. This was both her dearest friend on board and First Officer talking. When she didn’t answer for a long moment, he added, “You haven’t taken leave in a while. And we don’t anticipate any diplomatic duties until everyone beams down at Pacifica anyway.”

She nodded and sniffed, relaxing against him for a few extra moments and reveling in letting his touch soothe her. “You should, please,” she requested, taking the offer that would both let her save face with the crew and give herself some time to get things under better control. “And I’m a mess,” Deanna added, finally pulling away and running her fingers under her eyes to catch the last of her tears.

“You’re someone dealing with a lot of things she didn’t ask for and a very capable counselor,” Will corrected, his voice firm and allowing no objections from her.

“I’m still a little angry at her,” she admitted, glancing over her shoulder at the still-closed door leading to the bridge. “It’s primitive, but I still feel it was wrong for her to set her sights on you. You should’ve been off limits.” She sniffed and wiped more of the tears from her cheeks again.

“Does it both you more that she is planning to marry me, or that you weren’t the one making those plans?”

The question is pushing the limits of what, exactly, is and is not his business.

“We’re both adults who have had our fair share of relationships with other people.” She was hedging and his raised eyebrows and silence let her know that he was aware of this. “Will, I’d be lying if I said I was never jealous, not even the tiniest bit, when I’ve seen you with others. But we’re not in a relationship with each other—or, as far as I know, with anyone else right now.”

“Apparently I am,” he couldn’t resist adding this with a wry grin.

Deanna threw him a glare. “It can be hard to keep up with your social calendar sometimes.” Her anger was back, and it drove him to take several steps back and give her wider berth. But like before, she also had the painful awareness that most of it was anger at herself for letting words out before she took the time to consider them. “She knows how I felt about you. Even among Betazoids, it would improper. There’s a universe of beings, and she picked the one that …” She wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

He shifted now, moving closer and resuming a seat on the edge of the desk. Turning to fully face her, he began, “I’m not indulging you in a fight. And for the record, Deanna, there’s only ever been one Troi that I was interested in pursuing romantically. Your mother is a beautiful person, and I think I have enough experience in persons and beings to say that with some authority. Beautiful and entertaining that she may be, I have no interest in marrying her—even if it means risking offending the Fifth House or her never forgiving me for it.”

“We’ve both had plenty of our own experiences,” she concedes, gaze dropping to her lap at the admission. She smooths her hands down the front of her uniform

Will’s head tilted slightly as he watched her gather herself again. “I know you’ve counseled families on this ship—and other families before you joined the Enterprise. If a father, for example, were to meet with you about his child who was going through adolescence and was trying on new behaviors or amplifying behaviors, what would you say?”

Her breath left her in a short huff, and now she was the one leaning against the captain’s desk. “There are so many other variables I would need to know…”

“Deanna,” he pressed, eyebrows raising and his arms now crossing as he settled in for a more developed and professional response.

With a slight shake of her head, she finally answered, “I would talk about the physiological changes and the psychological shifts it can bring with it. And,” she added, seeing his eyes widen as he knew she understood his point, “I would encourage the parents to set clearer boundaries on appropriate behavior but also have some understanding that life cycle changes are just as challenging for the family as for the person experiencing them.” She rubbed her nose and gave another shake of her head. “I hate it when you do that.”

“I didn’t do anything, I merely asked a question,” he protested, hands coming up surrender. He knew her too well to think she actually hated it.

“Thank you, Will,” she murmured, her hand reaching for his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

He took the moment to bend and press a kiss into her hair and then lifted her hand to his lips and dropped another across the knuckles. “Data’s going to be looking for me soon,” was his apology. With a nod to the sofa near the star port, he added, “Take your time to sort yourself out before you go back to the bridge. Hell, take a nap if you need to. I’ll inform Worf that you’re working on ship’s business and are going to take leave once you’re finished.”

She moved toward the sofa already, feeling every minute of the last day or so since Lwaxana Troi had beamed aboard. She wasn’t the only person trying to fix this now. And maybe her mother’s preoccupation with Will would at least keep her out of further trouble in the last half day before their arrival. For now, Deanna was willing to concede this round. She barely had time to curl up onto the sofa and offer a quiet “Thank you, Will,” before he responded with a “You’re welcome” and ordered the computer to cut the lights once the door closed. Everything else could wait. Between Will, the captain, and the Four Deities, at least she's no longer dealing with her mother alone.

#deanna troi #counselor troi #will riker #william t. riker #commander riker

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angrypixie-sarisa · 5 years

Text

Quién Fuera

Piedras rodantes pt.11

Sam xMexican!witch!fem!readerx Dean (polyamorous)

Song recommendation (the one of the title): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdRsnvz_ZXg

description of this part: remember the four horsemen? Remember that episode with famine? I do.

warnings: flansgt? cursing. Lucifer appears, famine too. Full disclosure, I cannot bring myself to hate Lucifer because of the foz show adopted by Netflix, but it doesn’t mean that I’m describing him as a totally innocent character.

Also couldn’t find a sad hug GIF that best described this so I used rain.

Not my GIF, credits and love to the owner

They were voices, voices calling your name with an unnerving calmness. The words ran down your spine slowly, accompanied by the drops of your cold sweat. You tossed in bed; clutching the covers hard. You covered your head, maybe that way you’ll get some heat into your body. But the voices wouldn’t stop.

You kept opening and closing your eyes. Your heart wanted to run out of your chest. Your head hurt and your eyes burned. This was not normal.

Stop thinking. I can’t. You must. Why is this happening? Honey, listen, take deep breaths, you’re going to be fine. You obeyed yourself and started to take in shaky breaths in. They slowly became more stable. You placed a hand in your chest, over your heart. You imagined it glowing brighter with every inhale and a little less bright with every exhale. You imagined it until it happened. Under the covers a beautiful light illuminated your small sanctuary; it shined a light pink tone, like the pink of quartz.

That feels more like us.

You got the covers off of you, sat down and turned on your bedside lamp. Your chest still glowed, but it would go away, eventually. You cupped your hands and held them close to your chest, as if you were holding your heart soothingly in them.

“¿Qué pasó mi amor? ¿Por qué nos pusimos así?” You hadn’t had a caffeinated coffee in the evening, nor did you had dinner late or ate heavily before going to sleep. So, why?

You heard a silent laugh come from one of the corners of your room. Your blood went cold immediately. It was an unknown laugh.

“Ah, that’s why.” You said, though your voice hardly held the sweetness it had moments ago.

A man came out of the dark into the light. He was…handsome and not human. He had an unsettling aura around him, like demons did, yet there was something rather enticing about him. He wasn’t a demon. He was an angel, more like an archangel. And which archangel would have an unsettling aura that almost matches a demon’s?

“Hello, Lucifer.” The man stopped in his tracks, standing in front of you. A smile grew big in his face.

“They told me you were a tough one to break. I was growing disappointed on you until you calmed down. Definitely filled the expectations.” He sat down in the bed, a foot away from you.

“Well, I would’ve certainly put up more of a fight if I knew you were coming.” He laughed again.

“I see I can safely say you’re not like the others.” You rolled your eyes.

“Seriously? Don’t say that, you sound like a fuckboy. What do you want?” The devil shrugged.

“To meet you, that’s all. Can’t I meet the girl that makes Sam Winchester breathless?” You furrowed your brow, glaring at him.

“No, seriously, what do you want?” You got up from bed and went to your kitchen. You would need a tea to fall back asleep. And that confused Lucifer. So far no one had ever dared to turn their back on him or treat him lightheartedly, like he wasn’t a big of a deal. He followed you to your kitchen and watched curious as you filled a kettle with water and turned on the stove to boil it.

“I’m just curious.” He answered as he took a sit at your kitchen table.

“La curiosidad mato al gato.” You muttered.

“Pero murió sabiendo.” He said back. Now that was a surprise. You turned quickly to look at him and saw him shrug his shoulders.

“I’m a divine creature, we know different languages.” You hummed suspiciously. When your kettle started whistling, you took it out of the flames, turned off the stove and poured the water in a mug with one of your homemade tea bags in it.

“There are rumors that you’re a powerful witch.”

“There are rumors about lots of things, not all of them are true.” Suddenly, he was at your side, leaning in close, looking deep into your eyes.

“So are you saying you’re not powerful, darling?” Out of reflex, you put a hand on his face and pushed him away swiftly.

“Cabrón, espacio personal, por favor. Es muy temprano para estas mamadas.” His face was colored red of embarrassment. What was with this human? Who did she think she was to do that to him?

You felt his heavy glare on you, but you couldn’t give a shit. You glared back, making sure to keep up with his eye contact.

“O te comportas o te vas. Yo no estoy aquí para andar aguantando estas chingaderas.” You took a sip of your tea, still glaring at him dead in the eye. Lucifer was the first one to break eye contact. He shrugged and took a sit at the nearest chair.

“Okay.” He appeared in front of him a plate with a pan dulce on top of it. A concha, to be more specific. He took a bite, moaning at the flavor of the bread.

“So, you asked what I’m doing here. Simple…” He said with a full mouth. He took a pause to swallow his food then continued his sentence. “I want you in my team.” You scoffed.

“Aw, that’s sweet, but no thanks. I don’t take teams. Whatever you’re doing, it’s not my problem.”

“Oh but it is. You see, this is all because of you, humans. The hairless apes that father always favored so…” You rolled your eyes. Here we go again.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.” Once again, the devil found himself surprised.

“You angels and demons act like it all comes down to humanity, that we humans are nothing but pawns in your game and that we have to serve you. And that’s bullshit. All of this is nothing but some selfish case. You want hell on earth and your siblings want to stop you because >>Daddy’s orders << and you get mad at humans because we were the big guy’s favorite and take him and his beautiful creation for granted. And to be honest, I’m mad at humans too, for that specific reason. But I don’t think hell on earth or a fucking apocalypse is the solution. And also, for been divine creatures and all, you are pretty impatient and hold grudges really easy. Talk about example. Did I leave something unsaid, uncovered?” You arched your eyebrow at his thunderstruck face. Just when he went to open his mouth, something crossed your mind. </p>

“Actually, never mind. There are always gonna be unsaid words. That was a stupid question.” He was mute. He never had anyone talk to him like that before, never founded someone who wasn’t afraid of him and not a worshipper at the same time. As if you could see right through him. His lackeys had warned him about that and still, here he was, falling in the trap like everyone else.

Your gaze softened. Was that…sympathy? Empathy?

“Look, I know everyone places you like the bad guy. I know you’re tired of that and that it’s easier to just go by it than to make them understand. Believe me when I say that I get it, you’re trying your best. I understand.” He squinted. He felt like he knew you. He definitely knew you from somewhere, but he couldn’t pin it. Without saying a word, Lucifer disappeared in the blink of an eye. And your kitchen fell silent again.

++++++++++++++++++++++

You made yourself comfy in your bed. You took deep breaths, clenching your hands when inhaling and unclenching when exhaling. Then you relaxed into your bed and pillows and drift off into sleep.

Usually, your mind took you places, like a beach or a forest, a lake or a river. This time it was all white, infinite and empty, except for an old and sick looking man, sitting in a wheelchair and looking at you.

You smiled softly. Looks like it’s gonna be a busy night. You approached the man and conjured a chair beside his. You took a sit and stared into the void.

“Hi, Famine.” The old man smiled weakly.

“Ah yes, the witch. Tell me, what brings you here with me?” You shrugged.

“You tell me, I was just going to sleep. For what it looks like, I think you were pulling me towards you. Anything you wanna talk about?”

“Oh, I’m already dying, darling. I don’t think I wanna waste my time talking.” You hummed and kept looking into the distance. This place is so boring. Slowly, you imagined a dessert, with sandy dunes and a few trees in the distance. A starry night slowly made its way on top of your heads until you were both engulfed by the magnificent dessert.

“Oh, the dessert, a famish landscape. Good choice.” You shrugged and relaxed, hearing the noises of nearby rattlesnakes, coyotes, insects and mice. You kept silence, comfortable with it and aware that not everyone liked to co-exist with silence.

“Why are you doing this?” Famine asked, bothered. You placed your right hand in the sand; a rattle snake slowly climbed it, moving towards your shoulders and into your left arm before going back into the dessert.

“You want to talk; you just need time to open up. In the mid-time, I wanna enjoy the scenery of a beautiful ecosystem.”

“You mean dying ecosystem.” You shook your head.

“It’s not dying. It’s rich in minerals, it has plants and animals. They are made for this place and just because it isn’t full with water it doesn’t mean that it’s dead and ugly.” A coyote neared cautiously. You stayed still until they felt comfortable, rubbing their head on your arm, asking for pets. You complied with their demands, petting their head.

“It doesn’t matter; you are all going to die.” The coyote growled at famine, showing their teeth. You hushed them softly, whispering “It’s okay”, until they calmed. However, deciding they didn’t want to be there anymore they went away.

“That’s what’s bothering you?”

“It bothers me how incredibly naïve and stupid humanity can be. You think you’re safe, you let the people at the bottom die and then blame it on us. But when we take action, you get mad. Hypocrites.” You took in his words and smiled, confusing him.

“I know. We are the worst aren’t we? We think our problems have to do with an external factor or entity rather than accept that we cause our own apocalypse. We are the children of the universe and haven’t learned a single thing about owning our mistakes and learn from them, making ourselves better.” That’s when he looked at you. You were smiling at the stars. You’re optimism was untouched.

“So, you agree?” You turned to look at him.

“I don’t condone the methods you’re using or the suffering of another being, for that matter. But I understand. I understand the lesson, not the cause.” He then rolled his eyes.

“You’re useless.” You laughed, throwing your head back. You got up from your chair and starting walking towards a manifested door a few feet in front of you.

“Have a great night. And please, don’t harm the animals.” You opened the door and stepped right through it, not waiting for his answer.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You woke up slowly this time. You took a deep breath and blinked several times before sighing and looking into your nightstand clock, it was really late.

You rubbed your eyes and yawned before a chill ran down your spine. Instantly, your mind went to Sam and you couldn’t help but picture him crying.

As fast as you could you grabbed a jacket and put on your flip-flops. You neared the nearest closed door and tried to channel Sam’s energy. You concentrated on his figure and his surroundings until they became clearer and clearer.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. The sight in front of you was worse than what you were imagining. He was sitting all the way down to the floor, hugging his legs up to his chest and head buried in between. His form trembled and every now and then you could hear a tiny sob escaping his lips.

You took a step and passed through the veil. You cautiously, but loud enough to catch his attention, approached him. His head jerked in panic and when his eyes landed on your figure his panic only intensified.

“Y/N?” He asked, fear written in his words and his voice sounded sore.

“Hey, it’s me, Sammy. I’m here.” You kneeled in front of him. His eyes were injected red, he had been crying for quite long.

Slowly, his hand reached out and cupped your cheek, as if to verify that you were indeed real.

Flashes of what had happened invaded you, famine, the town, his hunger for demon blood and the remorse that made his stomach recoil.

“You’re really here? But…” As the images stopped showing, you turned to look at him. He wasn’t having the best night of sleep either.

In a matter of seconds, his arms hugged you close to him; he hugged your waist tight and buried his face in your chest. He cried out, not caring anymore if his sobs were loud or not. You could feel his heavy tears lading on your skin and streaming down their own path.

You placed your hands in his head and buried your fingers in his hair, caressing it softly.

“I did something really bad. I-I just couldn’t resist; the hunger… I feel-I feel really… Everybody always told me. They told me. But I didn’t… I didn’t listen… I-I didn’t feel like there was something wrong with it, until…. I…” You shushed softly at his words.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” His tears continued. Oh,mi pobrecito Sam.

“It’s not your fault, Sammy. This was famine’s doing. You have nothing to do with this. Mi vida, I know you’ll be okay. Not because you’re a hunter or a Winchester. You’re Sam. That’s what matters. You decide who you want to be. Don’t ever let them tell you who you are. Mandalos a chingar a su madre.” You ran your fingernails lightly through his hair and neck. He stopped sobbing, a signal that he was listening to you.

You took his chin in both your hands and lifted it up so you could look at his face. He had that puppy face on; it crushed your heart to see his face all stained with tears and puffed eyes, a big frown and a trembling lip.

You passed your thumb softly through his brow, to which he closed his eyes, relaxing slightly at the touch.

“You’re too pretty to frown, mi corazón.” He didn’t laugh or smile, yet the atmosphere of the situation felt less chaotic and overwhelming, like a sea storm that slowly calms away. And he didn’t ask, he just relaxed at your ever tranquil touch, but you started singing as you cupped his cheeks and brushed away the remaining tears.

“Estoy buscando una palabra en el umbral de tu misterio. ¿Quién fuera Alibabá? ¡Quién fuera el mítico Simbad? ¿Quién fuera un poderoso sortilegio? ¿Quién fuera encantador? Corazón, corazón, oscuro. Corazón, corazón con muros. Corazón, que se esconde, corazón, que está donde, corazón, corazón en fuga, herido de dudas de amor.” Your chest started glowing and to Sam’s surprise, his too. In the end, there were no more tears, not even the bittersweet aftertaste of crying, just two people and one sweet kiss. In between that kiss, Sam could swear, he could hear the song, the guitar, in his head. He could swear he could feel the vibrations in his chest and he could swear, for that tiny moment, everything was perfect.

#sam winchester #dean #sam #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #superntaural x reader #sam x reader #sam x reader x dean #dean x reader #piedras rodantes #angst #fluff #flangst

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kcwcommentary · 5 years

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VLD5x03 – “Postmortem”

5x03 – “Postmortem”

(A note in advance: this is a long one.)

We’re back on Olkarion, again. At least this time, the show has Ryner return. With how much time was spent on Olkarion last season, it was odd to not have any Olkari characters involved in the story then. Ryner expositions that Olkarion is serving as the capital of the Voltron Coalition now. If information like that had been provided last season, it wouldn’t have felt as strange for the show to have spent so much time on Olkarion then.

“So much has changed so fast,” Sam says. I don’t understand the purpose of his comment. This is his first time on Olkarion, so he has no past here to be speaking of any of the changes the Olkari are making to their cities. He even can’t mean anything about knowing about aliens and space travel since he’s been captured by the Galra for over a year. I get annoyed by empty dialog like this that postures as if it’s saying something significant. It’s not.

“I fear tumultuous times are upon us,” Ryner says. This is more empty dialog. It’s written and performed as if it’s some unnerving portent, but the Coalition just fought a huge, multi-front assault on the Galra Empire at the end of last season. The tumultuous times have been here for a while already.

A Galra commander, with confirmation that Zarkon is dead and having intelligence that Voltron is on Olkarion, orders his ship to go there.

Allura and Lotor speak alone. She is initially polite, bordering on formal, asking him if he’s alright, but she’s starting to cross into being less formal and more conversational with Lotor. She can sense that he, like anyone would be, is going through something significant with his having killed his father. She tells him, “What you did was for the greater good, and for many of us, proof of your intentions for peace.” As much as the earlier dialog was empty, this line is not. This line of dialog uses a double-voice, the first retaining Allura’s formality, but the second voice is her personally speaking. By “for many of us,” we know she specifically is saying for herself.

The rest of Team Voltron arrives. Lance seems jealous, still, and his jealousy is still uninteresting. Lotor informs them that with the death of Zarkon, the “most formidable Galra” are going to come together for the Kral Zera to determine who’ll lead the Empire next. If he’s going to be able to influence the Galra Empire, he’ll have to attend too.

Shiro points out that this is what they’ve been discussing doing with Lotor, and Pidge responds, “Yeah, but no one told us that would involve flying into a war zone.” Team Voltron is fighting against the Galra Empire, pretty much everything is a war zone for them and has been from the beginning of the show, yet Pidge is acting like they’re not in one. I can only assume she has not been paying attention (or is just being badly written here).

Allura says they don’t have enough time to plan, Lance agrees. Shiro is not wrong when he tells them that they don’t have a choice. Intraparty conflict can be really interesting in a story, but the sides of the argument all have to seem equally reasonable. Arguing that they can’t do anything to get Lotor to the Kral Zera because of how soon it will take place doesn’t make any sense since the whole point of them working with Lotor is so that he can assume control of the Galra Empire and serve as a check on the Empire’s normal brutality. Not helping him with the Kral Zera would be abandoning the whole goal they have been working for the past couple of episodes.

Pidge and Coran agree with Allura. This makes most of the characters’ motivation inconsistent. If they’re so willing to abandon this goal now, there was no point in the show spending the past couple episodes with them wrestling with the decision to ally with Lotor. This makes the story feel like it’s drifting back to the strange casualness that it had in season four.

The show has Shiro very definitively here say that he’s the leader of Voltron, and thus he’s making the decision. So Allura begins to rant about how Shiro “armed Lotor with [his] bayard without consulting the rest of [them].” This tells us something: Everyone except Shiro last episode wanted to give Lotor over to be executed by Zarkon. None of them had a plan, so the entire time they were watching as the Lotor/Sam exchange was happening, they were doing so with the full expectation that Lotor would become Zarkon’s prisoner. Shiro and Lotor are the only ones who actually operated with the understanding that Zarkon would trick them and that they had to have some plan in place to deal with it.

This makes all of the rest of our supposed heroes complicit and guilty because they were explicitly giving into Zarkon’s demand with no other plan. They were handing Lotor over to be executed, and the only reason that didn’t happen is because Shiro acted behind their back. I find the lack of heroism in most of our supposed heroes to be seriously disturbing.

Allura yells at Shiro, “You put the entire operation in jeopardy.” What operation? She had no plan, she was just giving Lotor to Zarkon assuming that Zarkon would give them Sam in return. Why were Shiro and Lotor the only ones who understood that Zarkon would trick them? I don’t understand why this show has decided to write these characters as being so oblivious.

Lotor interjects some truth: If he doesn’t take the throne, there is a good possibility somebody as bad as Zarkon will.

Because the scene indicates most of the characters abandoned both logic and morality last episode and continue to argue without regard to logic now, the scene feels like a distortion, hollow, and the conflict in it manufactured. This scene does not leave me with a good opinion on most of the characters in this show.

Speaking of low opinions of characters, Haggar continues to stand weirdly in the middle of a room. We see that she’s watching Lotor. Because we’ve seen her do this in 4x03 “Black Site” through Narti, we know she’s doing it through one of the people in the room with Lotor. It’s not hard to then put that with last episode’s initiating Stage Four of Operation Kuron to conclude she’s using Shiro.

Like last episode, Haggar again clichédly says, “My son,” like she cares about him. As I’ve said before, I do not like this retcon the show is doing with her character. Some Galra then attack Haggar, but she teleports away, laughs like a cliché villain, and then jumps down on them. She possesses one of the attackers and uses them to kill the Galra commander who sent them.

Ezor, Axca, and Zethrid are being held in a cell. Haggar frees them.

Meanwhile, the Galra who wants to attack Olkarion arrives at the planet and sends some “payload,” which he references the Olkari as being involved with, crashing into the surface of the planet. Ryner contacts the Castle Ship and says that they’re detecting an “unknown toxin” from the impact; how she knows it’s a toxin if it’s unknown is not explained. Purple mist floats around the trees, causing lines in the trees to start glowing purple and move toward the impact site.

Haggar has returned to her middle of the room, this time with Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid with her. Haggar says she is not planning to seize power of the Empire, specifically stating that “the Empire will only accept a ruler with Galra blood.” This continues to make her seem like she’s all about wanting a puppet on the throne, the same as her pushing for Lotor to take Zarkon’s place on the throne in season three. She says they need “a natural born leader.” I’ve commented on this idea before in a commentary way earlier in the show: There is no such thing as a natural born leader. No one is born as a leader. Leadership is a set of skills, and like all skills, it is something that has to be developed. Any time I see someone talk as if leadership is an inherent quality, I have to assume that that person fundamentally does not understand leadership. Maybe that’s why this show has had so much difficulty with the part of its story dealing with characters being leaders. Most of the work on crafting the show’s story comes from perspectives that don’t understand what they’re writing about.

Haggar wants someone “with an iron will to match his iron fist.” She tells the three to “bring him to me.” I get that the show is trying to be cryptic, set up yet preserve what it wants to be a surprise about whom Haggar is speaking, but leaving him unidentified in this scene doesn’t work for me. It feels too blatant that something is being purposefully omitted in the scene. Sometimes I just don’t like being able to so easily see the decision-making process behind some writing choices like I do here. It makes the supposed suspense of whom she’s talking feel artificial.

Meanwhile, Lance is getting in target practice. I don’t think we’ve gotten any sort of normal activity scene like this in a long time. I like having a scene of a Paladin practicing; it makes the story world feel realistic, like this character could be an actual person doing actual-person things.

That Lance’s bayard turns into a sword though and the resulting conversation he has with Allura is not as nice. The sword is not Lance’s established natural weapon. That doesn’t mean that he can’t ever use a sword, but it still feels a little off. Allura says the sword is like the one her father used.

I try to avoid the psychoanalytic mode of literary criticism because that mode creeps me out to no end, but it’s kind of unavoidable here. Since the show is moving Allura and Lance toward a relationship, and Lance has always been into Allura since the first instant he saw her, the show focuses on Allura changing from being bothered by Lance into liking him. I would much rather have her end up liking him because he realized his flirtatiousness was excessive and he grew out of that, and in so doing opened himself up in a way that Allura could then see something appealing in him. But instead, the show gives us moments like this for Allura to compare Lance to her father. This makes any attraction she eventually has for Lance not about her desires but about what she lost with her father’s death. I’m just not a fan of the idea of a guy being romantically appealing to a woman because he makes her think of her father.

With Lauren Montgomery having said in an interview that she considered having the show end with Allura being reincarnated as an infant – literally infantilizing Allura – and having Lance raise Allura, the boyfriend-father juxtaposition of this scene feels even creepier.

Their conversation drifts to Shiro. Allura says, “Shiro has been quite difficult lately.” I know the show wants us to agree with Allura since it’s beginning to advance some of the clone plotline, but it doesn’t work for me because Shiro is the only one of Team Voltron that speaks sense.

“Thank you, Lance. Speaking with you has actually made me feel better,” Allura says. “What do you mean, ‘Actually?’” he says. They laugh. Apparently, that was supposed to be a joke. I wonder if literally anyone who’s watched this scene laughed at that.

The show switches to the Holt family. It seems like Sam has been thinking that Pidge and Matt are going with him to Earth, but Pidge says that they have more work to do with Voltron and the rebels, respectively. Sam seems surprised, but I don’t really know why.

We’ve had three scenes, two of which were very casual, between this next one and the last time this episode was dealing with what’s supposed to be the main plot of the episode: the thing that crashed into Olkarion and is messing with the plants. I had kind of forgotten that this plant thing main plot was even happening because of the intervening scenes. That makes the tension and threat feel nonexistent, which is not a good thing for the main plot of a story.

The plants have been infected with what the Galra are calling a virus. It’s turned the plants into a giant cannon, which starts shooting at the Black Lion as Shiro’s trying to get a look at what’s going on in the forest. A shot of the Galra cruiser advancing on Olkarion makes Olkarion look like a moon around a gas giant planet. Maybe I missed this when Olkarion was shown in the past; has it always been in orbit around this gas giant? And if so, why is that gas giant never depicted in the Olkarion sky? You would be able to see it. The plants overtake the city, and everyone freaks out.

Matt and Sam run onto the bridge where Coran is monitoring the situation. Sam asks, “Where are the Lions?” like he’s been part of Team Voltron longer than the few hours that he’s been there. It feels so unnatural for him to make this comment.

The giant plant cannon has a giant mouth. Ryner’s reaction feels so artificial. “I don’t understand. That monster resembles one of our tree-mechs. It’s as if the forest is being corrupted,” she says. Having a character speak words of bafflement like this only works if we viewers don’t already that is the result of a virus. Since we already know that “the forest is being corrupted,” her line here has no weight.

It’s sad that as I’m watching the form-Voltron animation repeat yet again, I’m thinking, well, at least with this animation taking up time, I don’t have to watch some other absurd scene. That I don’t trust this show to give me a decent scene that I’m welcoming the form-Voltron animation wasting time in the episode does not reflect well on the quality of story in this episode.

I’ve gotten so used to Shiro ordering, “Form Shield,” that it feels weird hearing him order, “Shield Up.” Voltron ends up landing on the ground and the plants wrap around Voltron. Allura suggests separating into Lions, which they can’t do because the plants fully cover Voltron. The plant-covered-Voltron-mass starts floating in the air like a balloon, and I have no idea why. The plant monster moves on toward the city.

Shiro asks Ryner about the Olkarion city’s new cannon that looks like a donut. She says it’s not operational but might could shoot once. Ryner charges the cannon, targets the monster, gets right to the point of shooting before the new cannon fails. Despite the donut-cannon being covered in purple-glowing vines, she’s baffled at first why the cannon fails, but then her whole building is covered in vines. “All of our systems, they’ve been compromised,” she says. For being from a culture that’s prominently made up of really knowledgeable and skilled engineers, Ryner’s inability to know what’s going on feels unnatural.

Matt communicates with Pidge, saying that the vines seem like they’re infected with a computer virus. This might would function as a revelation if we hadn’t had the Galra commander refer to it as such a lot earlier in the episode. “It’s like a computer and a virus rolled into one,” Pidge says. I couldn’t help but to laugh. I kind of feel like the episode is going to start explaining to me what a telephone modem is or something.

Sam suggests they can hack the plasma-mass that’s infecting the plants and shut it down. Matt says they’d have to figure out a way to interface with it first. Since the plants are shutting down Voltron and shutting down Olkarion systems, it would seem to me that the interface is already existing.

Pidge says, “This virus is affecting Voltron on a submolecular level.” Now it seems the episode is conflating a biological virus with a computer virus. A computer virus, which is what Matt said this was, is just data. It’s not physical, so it can’t do anything on a submolecular level. This plot feels like a mess. “To drive it out, we have to tap into the quantum energy that bonds us all to Voltron,” Pidge concludes. Great, the problem is going to be solved by the characters literally doing nothing.

Allura declares something that I don’t remember ever being said before: “The bayards […] amplify each Paladin’s life force.” I guess, whatever.

The Galra cruiser has arrived and is using a tractor beam to pull the cocooned Voltron in. Coran watches it happening on a monitor. How the Galra got that close to the situation and he didn’t react until now, I don’t know. He says, “It’s the Galra. This is all their doing.” His statement is supposed to be dramatic, but since we’ve known this is the Galra for a long time, his dialog creates no tension. It actually has the opposite effect: it’s making the lack of tension in the episode more prominent.

Somehow, despite the infected plants covering the city, Matt and Sam are able to exit the Castle Ship, walk through the Castle Ship’s shield, despite the fact that the show has established that no one can do that, make their way through the infected plants unharmed and uncaptured, and into the building where Ryner is. The fact that their journey would not be possible is ignored by having them just show up in the room with Ryner after our having last seen them standing on the bridge of the Castle Ship.

Ryner tells Matt and Sam, “I’m trying to interface with the vines to stop their growth, but I can’t communicate with the nanocellulose.” That sounds nonsensical since this is supposed to be a computer virus, but whatever. This is just part of the problem with the show trying to conflate plants and technology. But then comes a big problem for me.

Matt responds, “We don’t need to stop it. We just need to reroute it.” Ryner, leader of the Olkarion, people of genius-level engineers, replies to Matt, “Grab a headpiece. Show me.”

Matt and Sam have never used Olkarion headpieces before. They do not have a lifetime of working with Olkarion plant-technology the way Ryner has. But Matt and Sam, white men, know better than an Olkarion how to use Olkarion technology. This is more offensive pro-colonialist thought being written into the show. Ugh!

Matt and Sam put on the headpieces, touch a nearby piece of plant, which start to glow green instead of purple. I’m so tired of this show solving problems by having characters touch something until it glows.

The Paladins slam their bayards simultaneously into their Lions. Everything glows white until the Paladins then find themselves standing in some stream of energy. Lance, Allura, Hunk, and Pidge are there, but not Shiro. This is foreshadowing that Shiro isn’t actually Shiro but a clone. The four of them yell Shiro’s name repeatedly. He eventually halfway appears, though his face remains cloaked in shadow. There’s some increased meaningless glowing, and the Paladins each disappear until only Lance and Shiro remain.

Shiro calls out Lance’s name, saying “Listen to me.” Lance yells, “What?” as he disappears, unable to hear Shiro. I guess this was supposed to have been the real Shiro who’s being held in the Black Lion’s psychic space since dying at the end of season two?

Voltron’s eyes glow and it breaks free of the plants. The Olkarion cannon blows up the Galra cruiser. Matt and Sam are no longer wearing the headpieces. I don’t know how “rerouting” the computer virus-infected plants’ growth results in the cannon being able to be fired. I doubt anyone working on this episode has even the slightest ability to explain it either.

Voltron, which had been just a bit above the ground with the Galra cruiser, comes diving in as if coming from space to intercept a blast from the plant-monster in the Olkarion city. The logistics of this is a mess. Voltron slams into the plant-monster and pushes it to the edge of the city. It wraps plants around Voltron again. Pidge says, “The virus, it’s trying to absorb Voltron.” Is this different than when it had wrapped around Voltron the first time? It looks the exact same.

Red is the only Lion not grappled by the plant-monster, so Lance screams for an absurdly long period of time, maneuvers Red to be within the mouth of the plant-monster, and then blasts Red’s main cannon. That the plant-monster can be destroyed by just one blast from a Lion’s main cannon makes it seem like they should have been able to take this thing out a lot more easily that they have. But, whatever. The plant-monster explodes.

There’s some narratively unearned group sunset gazing scene. We’re supposed to feel some relief and poignancy, but the plot wasn’t significant enough to earn this.

Sam says, “Kids, I need to talk to you again about returning to Earth.” Matt responds with a sharp, “Dad,” as if no one can see coming Sam saying he understands Pidge and Matt needing to do the work they’re doing. It’s cliché. “I understand now,” Sam says. How Pidge and Matt fighting to rescue him didn’t result in him already understanding, what he learned from this attack on Olkarion that he didn’t already know, the show does not explain. (Because there is nothing new for him to have learned from it.)

Sam says he has to inform the Galaxy Garrison about what’s going on in the universe. “There’s a war coming,” he says. Another cliché. Also, not news. The war isn’t coming, the war’s been going on for the entire show, so saying one’s coming here in the fifth season makes it seem like the show itself hasn’t been paying attention to its own story.

Lance asks Shiro about what he was trying to tell him in the void. Shiro says that he doesn’t know, that things went dark for him for a moment during it. The camera lingers on Shiro staring into the distance, trying to make us feel ominous about Shiro.

Haggar continues to stand in the middle of her room doing nothing. Her mindless lurking in the middle of her room is laughable at this point, but I think the show thinks that it’s appropriately creepy or something. Ezor, Zethrid, and Axca return with Sendak, revealing who Haggar asked them to get for her earlier in the episode. I guess his return is supposed to be dramatic and ominous, but it’s been so long since he was last in the story – if I remember correctly, the last time we saw him was in 1x11 “Crystal Venom” as he was jettisoned out into space – that it doesn’t have the weight that the show wants it to have.

This episode is, as I said multiple times in this commentary, a mess. The intraparty conflict between Shiro and the rest of the Paladins is annoying because the specifics of the Lotor/Sam exchange situation in this and last episode make Shiro right, and the other Paladins look absurd for trusting Zarkon and immoral for turning a prisoner over to be executed. The pacing of this episode is jarring. There’s too much cliché dialog. The plant-plot is uninteresting. The threat is poorly defined, and the solution is amorphous.

It’s amazing (in a bad way) that Zarkon was this show’s main villain for two seasons. He was killed last episode. And this episode spends only one scene talking about it, having characters reflect on it. Very little of the emotion that should accompany Zarkon’s death actually does in this show. How am I expected to care about the plot development if the show doesn’t have the characters caring about it? This makes the plot have no weight.

There are some points that are technically existent in the episode that would be expected in an episode following Zarkon’s death: Team Voltron has their one scene briefly talking about the power vacuum that is left in the Galra Empire because of Zarkon’s death, and that is mirrored with the Galra commander attacking Olkarion and Haggar seemingly to become Emperor (and become her puppet). But despite being an important part of the on-going arc for the show, they don’t feel prominent enough in this episode. The episode ends up feeling like it only halfway is attending to the show’s story.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #voltron criticism #vld criticism #voltron critical #vld critical #vld season 5 #vld 5x03 #commentary

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batboys-and-other-messes · 6 years

Text

Elevator (Tim Drake X Fem!Reader)

Requested: NO A/N: This was supposed to be short and sweet and then I lost control …. I had a conversation with @sassyshoulderangel319 (I can already type that url out by heart) about this post and which one I would choose and then somehow this formed in my heart and jesus, it was such a good idea. I put it under a Read More because it's ridiculously long and seriously… But I hope you guys like it!! Word count: 6256 (YES You read correctly. I lost control) Warning(s): Claustrophobia Tagged: @icequeen206 @crescent-bluemoon @nanna-the-batmum @xoleaox @sleep-depiravation [You wanna be tagged in my next piece? Just shoot me a message or ask!]

Your feet dragged across the floor as you walked towards the elevator.

Today was one of these days again. The kind that never ended and just seemed to drag on to eternity.

Your Head was pounding, your eyes were tired and your legs felt like someone had filled them with metal and put a magnet underneath the whole floor.

The building was already empty, which wasn’t a surprise at that time. It was already well past midnight and even the cleaning staff had been there and left again. You were alone, walking down the hallway.

Well, technically ‘alone’ except the one old guy who was lying there on his desk. You weren’t even sure if he was still alive but from what you heard through the gossip of the others, he just went through a nasty divorce and practically lived at his desk.

Poor Robert.

Well, at least he had a desk.

You knew you shouldn’t complain. You got a summer job at Wayne Enterprises. It was an opportunity some of your classmates would kill for, but there was always a catch with these kinds of things. What you didn’t expect when you signed all these confidentiality agreements was that your supervisor would be a lazy asshole that made you do all kinds of things you shouldn’t have to do.

But you had no say in the matter. Absolutely none.

So you sucked it up and got shit done.

And now that you had carried all these binders to the upper floor it was time to go down, get a taxi and sleep through tomorrow, your day off.

Almost lifelessly you pressed the elevator button, feeling like your finger might break from that little action.

Even the buttons up here were posh. The only thing missing was diamond-encrusting them. Maybe the Top floor had butlers that pushed the buttons for them?

You smiled at your own stupid joke, glad that nobody saw you. The doors opened and you stepped in. You pressed the last button and took out your phone. You haven’t had time to glance even once at it and were surprised to find 9 missed calls and about three dozen different messaged on it.

You were popular?

You expression fell when you saw that all of them were from your best friend.

The elevator moved but instead of going down it started to rise and you groaned internally. Someone from the higher-ups was still in the building, at this time?

You focused back on your phone. You phone signaled that it was very low on battery but you just clicked it away before you opened the newest messages and started to read them.

BITCH did you die or did you forget how to use your damn phone?? ANSWER ME Or do you think you are better than me now that you have a JOB and a PURPOSE in life? smh Hello??? You need to humble yourself Anyways, I have good news I’m gonna assume you asked ‘Oh Jenny, what good news?’ I found your lonely ass a boyfriend. I know, I know, thank me later Or thank me now Well, its actually gonna be a double date And I kinda already promised you’ll come I swear he’s cute Kinda Mine is They are brothers But he also has a sister, if you’re not in the mood for a guy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your gay tendencies towards batgirl ANYWAYS Sorry to break your coming out? Or is it rather a Passing BI? haha Yeah okay, that was a bad one That’s what you get for ignoring me Bitch

You closed your eyes as you heard the elevator ding, and the doors open. You were too tired for this shit. Way too tired for any of this.

Also, who wasn’t gay for Batgirl?

That was normal, right?

You started typing out your reply, too focused not to use too many curses and to keep her family out of it, to even notice the stranger that entered.

A moment passed and suddenly everything happened at once. You hit send, then the elevator shook, it stopped with a BANG, your phone died and the lights went out.

It all happened in the blink of an eye and for a moment you thought you had died.

And suddenly, your realized your situation.

‘I am stuck in an elevator’, was the only thing you could think of.

The person next to you sighed deeply and you let out a scream and jumped to the nearest wall.

‘WE are stuck in an elevator’

Fuck.

You took in a shaky breath as you felt cold and hot at the same time. Your sleepiness was gone, being replaced by a thousand pictures of crashing elevators and that one weird X-Factor Episode where (supposedly) death himself was in one and you only heard the screams of these people and you really didn’t want to die in an elevator with a stranger. You had so many things you still wanted to do! Hell, you haven’t even paid your student loan yet!

Though this thought calmed you a little bit.

Fuck capitalism.

“Hey” A male voice spoke up somewhere from the left. “Are you okay?” he asked and you gulped.

Okay, (Y/N), don’t show him that you’re having a panic attack.

“No.” you answered truthfully.

Yeah okay, that didn’t go as planned.

Maybe it was the adrenalin or the utter terror in your bones, but you weren’t really able to lie right now.

“It’s gonna be okay. We’ll just have to find the emergency-button.” He said and he sounded young. Something about his voice and the way he said it made you feel calmer but the fact that you were locked in here with a stranger unnerved you.

You nodded, realizing that he couldn’t see you, you added a quick “Okay.”

You moved towards where you remembered the buttons to be and suddenly you felt a hand and you yelped.

His hands were cold.

“Oh sorry.” He apologized and you heard him press a button, once.

You two waited and he pressed it again.

After pressing it about fifteen times nothing happened.

The darkness was getting to you and your hands started to sweat as you cursed yourself for not taking the elevator with the glass walls and the freaking panorama view. At least the moon would’ve provided some light but no, you were lazy and took the first one you saw.

“Weird.” The guy said and you didn’t answer. But it seemed like he was more talking to himself. “Usually the emergency generator should’ve turned on by now. And if that one failed the backup should’ve been enough to at least power the elevators.”

Maybe he was just thinking out loud but every single word filled you with a deeper sense of dread.

Was it common knowledge how many emergency-generators this damn building had? What did this mean? Where you going to die in here?

You heard some rustling and then a sigh.

“My phones dead.” He said and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out if he was talking to you or if he just really enjoyed his own voice.

Either way, every statement that left his mouth wasn’t good.

“I guess we have to wait.” He said and you nodded again which, of course, he couldn’t see.

“Okay” you managed to say meekly.

A silence settled between the two of you and it wasn’t one of the good kind. It was rather the “My crush just saw me scratch my ass and pick my nose while farting” kind of silence that made one want to fling oneself out of the nearest window and into certain death.

It was very awkward silence.

You heard the guy clear his throat. “Uhm… Hello.”

Oh shit, he wanted to converse.

You started to hyperventilate for the fifth time in the span of a second before you almost slapped yourself.

Get your shit together, (Y/N). It’s a conversation. You can do this. Remember? You had plenty of conversations in your life!

But how should you answer? ‘Hello’ would sound too stiff. ‘Hi’ would sound like you were best friends and you didn’t even know this guy. But going back to Hello would signal to him that you wanted to talk which you actually didn’t. Meaning you wanted to have a conversation with him because it seemed to calm you down but you didn't want to be trapped in the social construct of a conversation and then accidentally make it really awkward and end up trapped in a long awkward silence knowing that he would judge you for the whole time you two were trapped in there. You really didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone who might be the last person to see you alive.

“Okay, I guess you don’t want to talk.” He said slowly and he sounded so unnervingly calm.

“Yes. I mean No. I mean No I- I mean I don’t want to talk. I mean I don't want not to talk- Ugh. I WANT to talk but I tried to negate it twice and it came out sounding like I didn’t want to talk when in fact I do.” You said and you mentally slapped yourself for that.

Great thinking, (Y/N). No more freestyle-conversation for you until you learn how to act like a person, you moron.

Suddenly you heard him chuckle at that before he started to laugh as quietly as he could. It seemed very sincere and gave you the more reason to slam your head against the wall. But you didn’t.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” he said and you wondered if he was lying.

“What’s your name?” he asked and you blurted out “Nineteen.”

A second passed.

“Your name is Nineteen?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“No. I-I am nineteen years old. My name is (Y/N). I don’t know why but I thought you asked for my age because everyone here asks for my age first since this is actually just a summer job, you know and yeah.” you said.

You didn’t know why you were still alive right now.

“Oh, cool. You got a summer job here?” He continued as if he still thought you were a sane person and you were very grateful for that.

“Y-Yeah. There was this representative at my college and I won the contest for a ‘summer job’. Depending on how I do, I might even get a permanent job offer for when I’m done with college.” You said.

Your feet were hurting you and as if he could hear your thoughts you heard him sit down on the dirty elevator-floor before you could even ask yourself if it was okay for you to do so.

“Oh yeah, I heard of that. Congratulations, by the way.” His voice came from his sitting position. There was a smile in his voice and a sincerity you haven’t heard in a long time from someone else.

“Thank you.” You said, mimicking him and sitting down too. Your foot bumped against his when you tried to stretch your legs so you immediately pulled them back and just crossed your legs.

“What’s your name?” you asked, seemingly way calmer than before.

There was a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“Tim.” He said and you silently nodded.

“Hi, Tim.” You said and he let out a short chuckle.

“Hi (Y/N).”

“Do you think we are going to die here?” you asked.

“Okay, that escalated quickly.” He mumbled more to himself before you heard him continue.

“No. This building is very safe. The only thing worrying me is why our phones didn’t work. Mine is always charged and the backup generators should work anyways unless someone turned them off on purpose.”

You knew his words were supposed to be aimed at you but somewhere in the middle of it, he seemed to be talking to himself again. You still continued to listen.

“Well, my phone was low on battery anyway.” You said and he stopped at that for a moment.

“Mine was fully charged.” He said.

A pause.

“When did it turn off?” he asked and something in his voice made you answer it immediately.

“The same second the lights went out.” you said and even you realized how weird that sounded. There was still a little bit of battery left, a text message couldn’t possibly drain that much energy at once.

He was quiet for some time.

“What... does that mean?” you asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know yet, but it's not a good sign.” He said before he quickly added. “I still think we are safe here. Its probably a robbery of some kind and the energy will be back as soon as they are done.” He assured you and you didn’t believe a word he said.

“Bullshit.” You said forcefully in his direction.

“If what you just implied was true and someone messed with the energy enough to turn both our phones off at the top of the building then that’s definitely not a normal robbery. It's probably something bigger. Like super-villain big. So stop lying to me.”

You let your words hang in the air between the two of you and you just wished you could see his expression right now.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said after a while and you were surprised that he didn’t try to lie his way out of this.

“I didn’t want to worry you because you already seemed pretty freaked out.” He explained and you could understand that.

“Fair point.” You said and you both fell into your own thoughts again as the silence started.

“Hey, Tim?” You spoke after a while, which felt like an eternity. “Is Tim short for something? Like Timothy? Or Timotheus? Or is it just Tim?” you asked, hoping he wouldn’t ask why you would voice such a stupid question.

“Timothy.” He said and you could swear could hear him laugh but he didn’t make a sound. “But I prefer Tim.”

“Oh, so Timothy, like the Wayne one.” You said. “Or was it Drake-Wayne? Was it just Drake? Like the rapper? Shoot, Maybe I should know this since I'm working here. I hope they don’t quiz me on this or else it would really be embarrassing. I don’t even know how many children Mr. Wayne has. Is there like a chart or something?? They don’t quiz the employees here, do they?” you talked yourself into panic again.

“No. They definitely don’t.” he stated calmly and you were sure he was making fun of you.

“I mean they shouldn’t… It’s a weird thing to ask someone. And if someone does, just shoot a random number and make something up. That's what I like to do, anyway.” He said and you nodded, making a mental note of that.

“Right.” You said.

“You get anxious really easily.” Tim broke the silence absentmindedly.

“Yeah, It’s the Anxiety.” You shot back and it made him laugh again.

“Yeah, I figured. It was like my second guess.” He said and you smiled.

“Second? What was your first guess then?”

“The first was that you’re secretly the criminal responsible for this. Maybe your escape plan had failed and now that you’re trapped here with a civilian your cover is about to be blown.”

You would lie if you said you wouldn’t like to hear the rest of this story.

“Wow.” You said. “That’s… very specific…. Su- Suspiciously specific.” You said, letting that sink in.

“Are you trying to tell me something with this, Timothy?” Was that even his real name?

“No.” The pause before he spoke was way too long for your comfort.

Way too long.

“And please call me Tim.”

“I’m curious now. Was there like… a third theory you had?” you licked your dry lips in nervousness.

“Yeah. That you’re nervous because of me.”

“Well, I certainly am now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. You could be a murderer for all I know. I mean you are so calm while we're stuck here, that kinda screams psychopath. And your name is Timothy. I dunno, there are a lot of red flags here.” You rambled on, not even sure yourself if you’re joking or not. But you mostly were.

“Hey, whats wrong with Timo-“

Suddenly you felt the elevator drop an inch and you almost pissed yourself.

Then the lights flickered and there was suddenly light illuminating the elevator.

“Oh, the lights are back on.” He said, looking up before he stood up again, pressing the emergency button. There was a voice that came from the speakers above and you registered him saying something but you didn’t really catch what he was saying as you just kept staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

It was him.

Timothy Drake-Wayne.

FUCK.

It was him all along.

What the fuck did you say to him?

You were sure you insulted him at least three times in the span of this conversation and he didn’t even say a word! And looking at him now he sure looked a lot more handsome than he did in the papers and he was your boss in some kind of way, no, he was the boss of your bosses boss and you just called him a murderer and you would probably be kicked out the next thing right now and you wouldn’t even mind because why the fuck did you have to run your mouth like this?!?

“This might take a while. So, where were we?” he asked, letting himself slide down before glancing at you again.

“Right. I was possibly a psychopath.”

“I am so so so sorry.” Your face exploded in all shades of red as you pressed your lips together, avoiding his eyes at all cost.

“What for?” he chuckled with a lopsided smile. “I mean the name thing was kinda rude and I honestly want to know whats wrong with my name but you were just being honest.” He shrugged and you kind of wished the elevator would plunge to you to death. “Not many people here tell me that to my face.”

“Yeah, but it was only because I couldn’t see your face!”

“Why? Whats wrong with my face now?”

“Nothing! Its ridiculously stunning and it belongs to the guy owning this damn elevator.” You almost cursed.

“Bruce Wayne owns it.” He corrected you and he seemed surprised by your choice of words. “... and thanks?”

“You’re his son.” You retorted.

“Adoptive son.”

“Same thing.”

At that he paused, looking at the corner of the elevator. “No. Not according to some people.”

You stopped mid-thought.

“Oh.” You said, not knowing what else to say.

But you had already shot yourself in the leg once, so why not reload?

“But why should it matter what other people think? It’s not their decision to make how you feel towards someone. Or what your relationship with them is.” You looked at your hands, fumbling with your fingers as you felt his eyes on you.

“Sometimes… biological parents… aren’t good.” you added.

Your heart was beating and you knew he was watching you but he didn’t say a word. He just listened to you, waiting for you to speak out what you were thinking. What you were implying.

You weren’t sure if you could.

“Are yours?” he asked and it felt like a little nudge. Soft but present. Like a calm hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to make the step.

What was it with him? How could he make you feel so calm with just his voice? With just his presence? With this look in his eyes that you didn’t even have to see.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m eighteen..” You said. “It shouldn’t matter”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” he said. His knees were up and his arms rested on them, crossed. He didn’t look like the co-owner of a company. He just looked like a guy with a lot on his mind. And lusciously messy hair. “But it does.”

Suddenly you heard a sound and both of you looked at your phones.

“My phone is on again... And its fully charged?” you said in confusion before he confirmed that his was too.

You both started to type away as you opened your friend's Messages.

Did you die again? HELLOOOOOOO?? You can’t insult my eyebrows and then JUST LEAVE ?!?!? What the fuck is wrong with you?? You know how insecure I am about this

There was a string of other nonsensical messages but you decided to reply immediately before the power went out again.

Stuck in an elevator. Power and phone went off. Just turned on again Still stuck And your eyebrows are shit

You smiled as you saw the bubble pop up, indicating that she was typing.

OKAY, FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU? Second of all Are you okay? Did you call for help? Are you alone? Should I call and keep you company?

You quickly glanced over at Tim, as he seemed to be texting someone too, a slight frown on his face before you looked back at your phone.

Nope, not alone

A pause.

And who’s there with you??

You typed.

Theres a guy with me

Old or cute?

Second And why are these the only two options?

You only realized how true this was when you typed it out. You were definitely attracted to him. Of course, you couldn’t fall for a cute barista or someone else. No, It had to be untouchable people like Batgirl and Bruce Wayne’s freaking son.

At least you weren’t aiming low.

What kind of cute?

Tim Drake

Since when is that a measurement in your book? I mean I won’t complain. He’s cute?

No It’s him.

???

The guy. In the Elevator. With me. Is him.

There was a long pause in which she didn’t even type and you were afraid that she had placed her phone down before you saw the bubble pop up.

Use protection.

You closed your eyes in resignation.

I’m going to slap you

Well, whats the problem?

I insulted him... I think?

Of course you did

I mean it

Thats the problem

Are you going to help me or be useless?

I dunno… My eyebrows are still hurt

JENNIFER

Whoa we’re busting ot the full names now? Heavy.

I’m not good at this?

Good at what?

Talking

I know

Jen...

Seriously, what are you trying to do? Apologize? What am I supposed to help you here with?? Give a girl something to work with!

You thought about your reply for a moment before typing it up.

Flirt?

You died just typing that up.

“I got some good and some bad news,” Tim said.

His voice ripped you out of your thought and you almost dropped the phone in a panic, afraid that he could read what you had just written. You placed it display-down on your lap, blushing.

“W-what?” you asked as you looked at him.

“Well, the good news is that there was a power outage and in the whole city. Something like a force-field-thing but we don’t know more.”

You blinked.

“Why is that good news?” you asked, confused.

“It means nobody targeted this building specifically. We are safe. Locked up but safe.”

Somehow, that made sense. But only in Gotham.

“And the bad news?” you asked.

“There is a lot happening right now and we might be stuck in here for a while because there are other emergencies that happened.” he explained carefully and you nodded.

That meant you would spend some time with him in here.

You glanced at your phone to see what your friend had answered.

Show him your tits

You blocked her.

“You look angry.” You noted, lying on the floor with his jacket underneath your head. He had insisted you take it and you learned how stubborn he could be.

“’M not.” He said absentmindedly while frowning at his phone.

“You sure do.” You said. He probably wasn’t even listening to you.

“Nope.” He said casually.

“Yupp.”

“No.”

“Ye-hes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop it.”

“Nope.”

This was fun.

“Who are you texting?” you asked, bored out of your mind. It looked like he was doing something very important and you asked yourself if he was a workaholic. Or maybe he just enjoyed someone else's company more than yours?

Were you that boring?

“My brother.” He said, glancing over at you for a moment with a quick smile and suddenly you felt reassured again.

Damn, he was good.

“Hm.” You just said, not knowing how to answer to that.

“Why did you stop texting?” he asked, still typing away and you turned your head to him.

“What do you mean?” you asked confused.

“When your phone worked again you were texting with someone. And then you stopped.” he stated curiously and you realized that it was a main trait of his. Curiosity.

“My best friend.” You said, circling your finger over your phone that was laying on your stomach.

“But she’s being obnoxious again.” You finished drawing your circles and started drawing them in the other direction.

“How come?”

It was such a simple question but he seemed genuinely interested. At the same time, he wasn’t even looking at you and was typing on his screen. You didn’t know what to make of it.

Talk about mixed signals.

“She’s trying to set me up on blind dates and … she really doesn’t have the slightest clue what my type is.”

You paused a moment and he looked at you, fully.

“Jesus, that sounded stuck-up.” You realized horrified. “W-what I meant is that I don’t even know if I have a type myself and I didn’t mean it in a physical appearance-wise way but its just really uncomfortable when you sit with someone and try to talk to him and its just obvious they are here to hook up with your friend and not interested to talk to you, at all. You know?” You said, squinting up at the ceiling of the elevator, wondering why you just told him that. Why should he care?

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation.

You would probably regret this a lot tomorrow.

“Why... don’t you just tell her no?”

It sounded so simple when he said it.

Because she always agrees first and then it’s my fault when I cancel.

Because she is a little bit manipulative like that sometimes.

Because she keeps playing the victim whenever I do.

There where so many replies you could’ve given him but you didn’t. Instead, you sighed.

“Because I’m a pushover.” you said, and it rang true to you.

“You don’ sound like one.” He said, unsure of how to word it. “Or at least you don’t seem like one.”

“Thanks, guy who knows me for like two hours. At least that means I can fake dominance?”

He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, ‘dominance’ is maybe a bit far-fetched,” he mumbled.

“Oh, shut up, Timothy.”

“I would really appreciate it f you would stop calling me that.”

“Why? What's wrong with Timothy?”

“Maybe we should start recording diary entries to keep track of the days that had passed? In case someone finds us too late?”

You had taken off your shoes and his head rested on your bag. He had rolled up his sleeves and his tie was gone and it was seriously dangerous for you to look at him right now.

Somehow being stuck with him for 4 hours fo far made him seem so much more human than you would’ve ever imagined. This wasn’t the rich business-boy you heard of. This was fidgety, curious and sassy Tim. The elevator Tim.

“Jokes on you, I already made seven entries so far. Currently on entry eight, pondering about the symbolism of the elevator.” His Phone was gone and he was staring at the blinking lights with you. Occasionally closing his eyes as he seemed to be just as tired as you were.

In a normal setting you would’ve never been caught dead in such a position but somehow you stopped caring around the first hour that had passed. Social construct couldn’t harm you here anymore. It was a surreal plane of existence.

“Maybe the lights are the light that leads us to the afterlife?” you theorized and you saw him grin at that.

“And the buttons symbolize the levels of hell?” he added

“Heaven and hell.” You corrected.

“We’re somewhere on the top floor. What does that mean?”

You thought about it.

“That Satan and God are fighting for custody and god is winning?” you improvised on the spot.

He let out a laugh.

“Great. I’m gonna get adopted again.”

At that, you burst out laughing.

“Why do you carry so many chocolate-bars in your bag? Did you raid a vending machine or something?” Tim looked at you, deeply concentrated as he took a bite from one of them.

“Pff, Because I always am prepared for being stranded on a deserted island like in Cast Away, duh.” You said, mockingly.

“And chocolate bars would be your number one priority in such a case?” he raised an eyebrow, crunching at the chocolate-chip one.

“What would be yours, Mr. Know-it-all?” you asked

“Water. Water and shelter, obviously.”

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly carry around a freaking tent with me everywhere.” You chuckled.

“Pff you could. With the right amount of dedication.” He smiled.

“People would think I’m paranoid.”

“A small price for survival, (Y/N).”

“Guess I’ll just die then?” you shrugged.

“Yeah …. Please don’t.”

He smiled weakly but there was something in his voice you couldn’t decipher.

“Oh, that’s easy.” Tim said, eyes determined.

“I would kill Robin, Marry Nightwing and fuck Red Robin.” He said and you chuckled at the speed of which he answered that question.

“What did Robin ever do to you?”

“Do I have to answer this?” he asked dramatically.

“No, but why marry Nightwing? I want to know your thoughts behind it.”

“He seems like someone you could trust?” he motioned the usual ‘I don’t know’ motion and you accepted it.

“I’m not gonna question the Red Robin part.” You assured him and it seemed to pique his interest.

“Why not? Is it like….. a common thing to want?” he sounded almost worried and definitely confused.

“Well not that I know... but he seems like a loveable dork.” You chuckled. “He saved me once.”

“He… did?” He asked.

“Yeah. I almost walked into traffic once while I was distracted, long story, and he just pulled me back while swinging by and yelled ‘PAY ATTENTION’ and then he slammed against a building.” You laughed softly at the memory. “I felt so guilty for it but he was already gone before I could apologize.”

Tim went silent after that.

“If we ever get out of here, I want to eat a triple cheeseburger. Not the tiny ones. I’m talking about the ones that are as big as my face. The ones you could feed a small family with for three days, you know?”

You were hungry.

There was more hunger than a few chocolate bars and some bubblegum could satisfy. Maybe it was also just the fantasy of being free and sitting in a fast food joint and stuffing your face that intensified that wish.

You wanted out of there and the need to get up and run was getting stronger and stronger with every passing minute. But at the same time, you wanted to stay and keep talking with him.

He gave you a kind of attention you’ve been desperately waiting and searching for and a part of you felt guilty that maybe he was forced to do so since he had nowhere else to go right now. But it felt so natural and sincere whenever he did that you wished it would never end.

When you didn’t get a response from him you turned your head, only to see him staring back at you. He immediately looked away.

“Y-yeah, me too.” He quickly said and you asked yourself what that look just now was supposed to mean.

You opened your eyes, blinking at the bright light in the room.

Where were you?

Oh right, you were still trapped.

And you had fallen asleep.

Fuck.

You looked over at Tim, who was sitting up again.

You blushed deeply in embarrassment before you sat up too.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Tim looked at you again with a smile.

“Yeah … Uhm… How long was I gone?” you asked, hesitantly and you watched him look at his phone.

“About an hour.”

Your heart dropped.

“Oh. Thanks.” You couldn’t even believe you had the nerve to fall asleep in a situation like this but you were apparently tired enough to do so.

“What did I miss?” you asked and you definitely noticed how he hesitated and avoided your eyes.

“Your friend called.” He said. “And …. She sounded angry.”

Your heart dropped.

“You picked up??” you asked in disbelieve. What did she say to him?? Oh Dear Lord, please let her have shut her big mouth just once for this time, PLEASE.

“I- I really didn’t mean to pick up! But she called seven times and your phone wasn’t muted and when I wanted to mute it I saw her text of how worried she was and…” he trailed off and it was almost a little bit comforting to see him talk in a frenzy instead of you.

“What did she say?” you asked, having your mental fingers crossed and hoping for the best.

“Nothing much. She kept yelling and when I finally got a word in she hung up.” he said and you never felt more relieved than before.

“Are you shitting me? That’s what he did??” you couldn’t contain yourself in laughter as you heard the story he had just told you. It made you feel a dozen times better about the ones you had told him before.

“Yeah. Bruce banned spoons after that. Except for the kitchen and dining room, of course.”

You laughed at that, even letting out a snort as you couldn’t contain it.

“No wonder he always looks so tired in all the pictures.” You chuckled.

“Besides that, I still can’t believe you have a dining room. One that you actually use.” You added.

Tim looked away and you had learned in the short time here with him that it meant he wasn’t quite comfortable with that topic.

“Yeah, comes with the job I guess?”

“How often do you guys just … you know, play hide and seek? Or Tag? Do you ever feel tempted?”

Tim chuckled.

“We did, once. We aren’t allowed to do that anymore. We lost Damian for two days and didn’t tell Bruce...” he trailed off.

You laughed again and you didn’t notice how much he seemed to enjoy that sound.

“I don't even want to know how you guys did that.” You said, grinning at the hilarity of it all.

“I’m not even sure I’m allowed to tell you, anyway.” He replied. You glanced over at him, opening your mouth to say something when you both heard a voice from outside.

You both looked at the door from where the sound came.

It was the rescue workers. And suddenly a timer started to run down in your head that you didn’t know you would start to detest.

It was only a matter of time till this would end.

The men outside started the whole ‘Are you safe’ spiel and you heard Tim answer some of the questions. The only thing you could focus on was what the man had said.

“You’ll be out in 15 to 20 minutes.”

15 to 20 minutes.

That was by far not enough time.

Was it selfish of you to want to sit here with him and keep talking? Listening to his past shenanigans and the way he laughed when you told him yours? The way his brows creased when he was thinking or the completely surprised expression of his when you delivered a good comeback to his sassy remarks?

You probably shouldn’t feel this way anyways.

Wasn’t he technically your boss?

Even though he had told you that he really didn’t like it when you talk to him like he was this big shot, it still didn't change the fact that he was.

Or maybe it was your way of pushing him away? Your way of justifying why he would never be interested in you in this way.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Tim looked down at you and you honestly didn't know how to answer that. You sat up, hearing the workers trying to open the doors as you glanced at the jacket your head was lying on a second ago.

“This is going to sound stupid…” you said, already throwing the idea out of the window until you saw his face. It was concerned, almost worried and a little bit curious.

“Try me.” He said, encouragingly.

“I’m .. gonna miss this.” You said eyes averted to your shoes. The courage he had given you was gone and you wished you could take all that back.

“Being locked in?” he asked and you looked up at him, ready to tell him how stupid that question just was when you saw his smile. He understood.

You two shared a look.

“You know..” he started after a moment. “There is this place, a few blocks from here, that has really good burgers… At least I heard so.”

You chuckled.

“Oh, really? Even cheeseburgers?”

“Yupp. The big ones.”

“Sounds tempting.”

A heartbeat passed.

“Would you want to go with me?”

You thought about it.

“Like as newly formed friends or as a date?”

“Definitely a date.” he paused. “O-only if you want to.”

You could barely contain your smile as you heard the door crack open.

“I would love to.”

#my writing #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake fluff #fluff #batboy x reader #batboys #batboy imagine #dc imagine #red robin imagine #red robin x reader

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rwdestuffs · 6 years

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Discussion: What would make a good RWBY Villain?

They say a hero is best defined by the villains they face, but what happens when those villains aren’t compelling?

For this, we are going to take a look in how the villains really compare, and how they succeed (or fail (they do a lot of failing in this)) in being good villains.

In order to do this, we need to figure out what aspects of the villains that we’ve seen work, and how they ended up disappointing us.

Beware comparisons to other series and their antagonists, and what makes them compelling.

For starters, let’s take a look at the least disappointing villain: Roman.

Roman had charm to him. He showcased a few skills, and his weapon was named. Which is more than can be said then any other antagonists’ weapon. Roman’s characteristics made him really likable despite the fact that he was beating up a fifteen year old when he’s got to be in his late twenties at this point. Though, it’s worth noting that at this point, there were no other villains for a comparison. But Roman’s overall personality makes him somewhat likable.

To surmise: Roman’s personality, presence, and actual power made him a compelling villain. He was different. He had mooks, he had a weapon. He gave our main protagonist a hard time.

But then he dies. Not in a brutal or action-packed battle with Ruby, mind you. But in a really underwhelming way. He gets eaten by a grimm. It almost feels like a cop-out. They won’t let Ruby and Roman have an epic fight, so they just have a grimm eat him. He would be better if he had perished by the hands (or in this case, scythe) of Ruby. But nope. Just some sheer luck is what causes Roman Torchwick to be snuffed. He’s still the least disappointing though. It’s primarily his lack of a good conclusion to his character that makes him disappointing. Everything else is fairly solid.

Now, let’s go on the opposite end of the spectrum, and talk about the most disappointing villain. Or should I say, villains (Note the plural).

The grimm.

Seriously. The grimm are the most disappointing villains around. I mean, Zwei beats one.

Without aura.

Why. How. There’s no reason for the grimm to be a threat. A freaking auraless dog took one down. Coco literally mowed down the entire horde singlehandedly. The grimm aren’t a threat. They’re like the Goombas from Mario. The Moblins from Zelda. The- You get the point by now, right?

This leads me to believe that RWBY would make for a better video game than show. With the grimm being a poor man’s version of the Heartless, this would actually be pretty cool. The characters could be interesting and you wouldn’t have to delve deep into their backstory. In fact, you could just buy a player’s guide, or have a sidequest for the backstory of the character.

Getting back on topic, let’s try to create an interesting villain.

Well having the character be an interesting contrast to a member of the main cast would be a start. But for sake of character development, let’s try to make them a villain that would put the main protagonists in a tough spot.

One example would be a Grimm!Zombie!Pyrrha. This creates an interesting conundrum. Do they perform a mercy kill?- Can Ruby’s silver eyes try to purge it, and if so, how much?- If the grimm gets purged, then what happens to Pyrrha?- There are a lot of questions to be had here, and it would actually cement Salem as a threat. Salem could bring Pyrrha back, but as a grimm. Which would force the heroes to make the tough choice of either killing her, or trying to rescue her. And that’s assuming that she can be rescued.

But let’s say we want to build a villain from the ground up. Let’s make a counter to silver eyes. Instead of slaying grimm, they strengthen them. They act as a sort of a support for grimm, and are a dangerous threat. They could even be a new type of grimm that Salem developed and has an immunity to silver eyes. This grimm is fast.

Or how about a silver-eyed warrior that sides with Salem?- One who was cast out from their home, and instead of finding resolve in wanting to be a hero, they found kindred spirits in Salem and her band of cohorts.

Perhaps someone who can show the protagonists what happens when they take their main goal too far. Instead of a Salem accomplice, we have a huntress who wanted to constantly help people, and sees the only way of doing that is to become stronger and never started a family, causing them to become distant to others. This would serve as a warning to Ruby, that she should know what to do with her life aside from being a huntress. Or perhaps a person who wanted to take over a company from corrupt hands, but failed to plan for what would happen once they actually got control. This could serve as a counter to Weiss, so that she would be forced to understand that while her goals of taking back her company would be a priority, that she should also plan ahead.

Maybe a foe that would force Ruby to learn how to use her silver eyes. Or maybe a foe that could keep up with Ren’s speed so that he would be forced to learn how to take a punch… Like how he should’ve been taught how to do in volume 5 instead of sitting around and talking about aura.

Off-topic tangent aside, let’s take a look as to how Salem fails at being a threat. To best do this, let’s take a look at a villain from a very famous anime (Sometimes a bit too famous for its own good, but that’s just an opinion): Freeza.

See, when you have minions and you want to showcase their boss being a threat, you have to have those minions showcase their power. You also have to show them being afraid or at least uncomfortable with disappointing the boss. Freeza does this exceptionally well. Characters like Zarbon, Dodoria, and the Ginyu force are afraid of failing Freeza, and when you see the power and abilities that they’re throwing around, you start to get worried.

And here’s where Salem fails immediately. Only Tyrian is afraid of disappointing her, and it’s easy to just say that it’s because he’s obsessed with her. Cinder doesn’t fear Salem, Hazel is willing to go against her plans because of a grudge, Watts doesn’t seem to care, and really… only Leo is afraid of her. But we never see his power, so it’s hard to actually fear Salem.

Another way that Salem fails is her lack of action. She doesn’t really do much, she just sits around and tells people what to do. It also feels as if she’s not a villain, considering she openly praises Cinder for making Beacon fall, and acquiring the maiden powers. It really doesn’t feel like she’s a villain.

Cinder had mooks. Say what you want about her personality and lack of backstory, but the fact that she’s willing to go to such lengths as to team up with a grimm queen to gain power is somewhat unnerving. She manages to play on Emerald and Mercury when they’re in an emotionally vulnerable state, and gets them to join her. Sure, she sounds like she just came from a room where she was watching a video titled “How to be Seductive and Threatening at the Same Time” only once while not taking any notes or actually paying attention, but she was pretty intimidating. She could take on Glynda in the first episode, and she practically destroyed Pyrrha. Had it not been for a deus-eyes-machina, Cinder would have completely won the battle of Beacon.

Unfortunately, she kind of squanders her “Would Hurt a Child” trope in favor of messing with jaune, and taunting him. And her inflatable tube grimm arm also doesn’t contribute to her intimidation factor that well. But the fact that Emerald is wary of disappointing Cinder shows that Cinder is at least manipulative enough that Emerald doesn’t like disappointing her, or that she’s stronger than Emerald. Really, the biggest thing she had going for her was the fact that she was an attractive fire lady.

Hazel was a case in disappointment. Here you are, expecting something big to explain why this guy is working for Salem, and then it turns out… he’s more or less working against Ozpin. He and Salem just happen to have their goals overlap. His sister died when she wanted to become a huntress, and that’s it. Firstly: Oscar is 100% right in this situation. If the intent was to cast Ozpin in a shady light, then how about you highlight the fact that he’s currently possessing a child?- Here’s an interesting fix: Ozpin’s reincarnation took over the body of Hazel’s brother, and Hazel is mad that Ozpin ruined his brother’s life, and took away his hopes and dreams. Or how about his sister being killed in a skirmish between hunters and grimm, and Ozpin covering it up?- Either way, Hazel utterly fails at being an interesting villain because of his weak backstory.

Adam started as intimidating, but then devolved to being a whiny toddler. The guy who gave Blake and Yang PTSD, dismembered the latter, and led an army… whines about Blake’s family causing him nothing but pain?- What happend? Is this supposed to be intentional?- Is this supposed to be symbolic of Blake overcoming her fear of Adam? What the hell just happened to make Adam go from intimidating to laughable in a matter of minutes? Adam could have been a character similar to Freeza above. You know he’s a scumbag, but he’s so good at being a scumbag. He’s a character that you love to hate. But nowadays, he’s a character that is mocked. And that’s in part due to his voice. Say what you want about Cinder, but her lack of emotion could actually come off as intimidating if you squinted. Adam’s voice couldn’t be intimidating unless you really tried to stretch. Adam lacks any form of intimidation.

Neo would be more intimidating, what with her incapacitating the powerhouse of the team, having a sadistic smile most of the time, and her muteness adding to the creepy intimidation factor……… if she were to show up. The girl has more screentime, development, and character interaction in the spin-off show!

Back to the subject at hand, I want to know: What would be your ideal rwby villain?- What would be their name, weapon, semblance, personality, motivation, etc. What would they look like?- And how would they pose a threat to the heroes and provide growth for them?

#rwde #rwby criticism #rwby discussion #rwde discusson

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eleanor-devil · 6 years

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Naruto Fanfic - Boruto: Sacrifices - Chap.26, Building Tension

IMPORTANT: It would be very very appreciated if you reblogged it and left a comment. We get lots of likes/favs but almost no comments, so please everyone, leave a comment, it encourages us to continue.

Written by my friend @mirage-05

Cover by @eleanor-devil

prologue, chap.1, chap.2, chap.3, chap.4, chap.5, chap.6, chap.7, chap.8, chap.9, chap.10, chap.11, chap.12, chap.13, chap.14, chap.15, chap.16, chap.17, chap.18, chap.19, chap.20, chap.21, chap.22, chap.23, chap.24, chap.25, chap.26, chap.27

For more Sacrifices stuff, click on this link

Chapter 26 - Building Tension

As he looked up from where he was lying down to the stars shining out of the window, the young blue haired boy was thinking that he was actually doing a good job during his... recovery. Mitsuki. That was his name, as told by the angel and many others. He was twelve, but apparently his birthday was closing in. Although no one around him wanted to go into details, he had apparently been through a very rough fight (because he was a... ninja, that was the word) and had missed more than a month of his life because of it. He didn't remember being dangerously impulsive or reckless, but by the looks of it, he was. And apparently... he was best friends with the blondie - Boruto. Strange enough, through everything... this was the one fact that he had the hardest time to wrap his mind around. If he was such an important person in his life, how... why couldn't he remember him?! He sighed. The thing was, whenever he tried to remember something, anything... he had a splitting headache, caused by what seemed to be a myriad of voices speaking in his head. He didn't know any of these voices... or rather, he couldn't decipher enough out of the ramble to recognize who was speaking, but still... he was sure these were no memories. And although he didn't exactly know why... he was actually afraid to hear what the voices had to say. And so he was, in a way... avoiding remembering anything... Which was why the visits of Boruto had become guilt trips. Sometimes, he really wished he would stop visiting... but then, this thought was unbearable too, for reasons he didn't know. Hearing footsteps and low murmuring from the outside, Mitsuki immediately ducked back into the covers, pretending to be asleep if the medics decided to come inside for a check. He didn't feel like he could talk about these problems with anyone - at least not yet. He knew that this was something only he needed to sort out.

... "Ta-daaa!" the black haired girl said cheerily as she brought out some delicious looking pasties from the basket she and her brother had brought. "Mama made these especially for you, Mitsu-nii!" The girl's bubbliness was kind of... overwhelming, especially the way she (Himawari, her name was Himawari) kept calling him 'brother'... Just another pang in the young boy's heart, and yet... for some reason he just couldn't see her presence as unnerving as her brother's. "Hey, dig in, 'ttebasa, this is all yours!" Boruto said with a big grin, leaving Mitsuki amazed at just how much enthusiasm he had. "I... thank you," the boy replied, with a smile that he hoped that at least looked genuine. He took a sweet bun from the basket and took a bite... it was indeed delicious beyond words. He didn't notice how Boruto's face fell, his expression taking on a thoughtful quality. He didn't have a chance to notice it anyway, seeing that Himawari was still chattering away. He came to a halt as the taste of the bun started to feel... too familiar, almost like... home... the feeling almost made his heart ache... "Yo, Mitsuki," Boruto's voice was now as thoughtful as his expression, not the cheerful one as before. "You okay?" Maybe that wasn't the best question to ask, since he was still recovering from his injuries as well as a memory loss, but Mitsuki knew that the blond was just worried about him. And somehow, he was glad for it. "I'm good." he said, not enjoying the fact that he was lying, but not really seeing any other way out of it. ... "He's not good," Boruto sighed as they walked down the Konoha streets with Sarada. "He talks with us, smiles and all... but it's just so clear that he's putting up an act. That..." he stopped himself there, because he was about to say 'that my best friend's still not back', but... that hurt to admit. Sarada remained silent. Looking over at her, the blond could see a thoughtful, almost sad expression on the Uchiha's face. Why though...? "Nee, Sarada," he said at last, his voice, too, becoming a little worried. "What are you thinking?" Sarada came to a halt before turning to face him, although not quite meeting his eyes. Boruto couldn't tell why this was bothering him so much... "I..." she finally began, but she clearly wasn't too keen to continue. "I was just... thinking lately..." "And?" "You're not gonna like it Boruto..." The blond let out a humorless laugh. "A lot of things I don't like happen Sarada. Just go on with it." She closed her eyes with a sigh. It was only when she reopened them that she met his gaze. "Mitsuki's condition... I just... can't help but think that we unintentionally contributed to it all this time..." Those words indeed made Boruto came to a halt as his expression slowly turned blank. "W-wait, what... do you mean...?" "Just... think about it..." Now her voice was sad too, desperate... "He had always been... well, secretive, but did we ever really try to... understand him?" "That's not true," the blond said immediately, but his voice didn't really hold unwavering certainty. "He is good at hiding it if something's bothering him, if he is in trouble, believe me I've seen it so many times while we were dealing with the bullies... and we... we took him by stride... Never questioned his motives, reasons..." "This is nonsense, Sarada," he snapped at last, and the girl could hear it crystal clear in his voice... denial, denial that he was trying to hide by acting out... she knew her childhood friend only too well. And that was why she hated pushing on with this. "You remember back in the Chuunin exams? When he lost to Shinki?" "Well... yeah, of course I do." Boruto said, a little uneasy... because when he thought back to that time, the first thing he clearly remembered was the intense look Mitsuki gave him... which was... disconcerting, he had thought... But... had he thought much deeper into it? Things began clicking together in his mind. That was also when Sarada decided to complete her theory. "Did we even wonder why he decided to give up?" "I..." the words came numb to his lips. "I just... didn't think it was too unusual of him... That I could never truly understand him if I tried anyway..." But that was the thing... he didn't try. Not really. Ever since Mitsuki came to Konoha, they had an... awkward relationship. Mitsuki seemed to follow him everywhere, look up to him a lot... much more than his other classmates, now that he came to think of it. He seemed to tie his reasoning of staying in Konoha solely to him, even calling him his... sun... although the blond would be damned if he knew what that meant. And he never questioned its meaning either... They only got closer, becoming what they considered to be best friends in the passing year... but now Boruto had doubts about just how much of a best friend he was, not knowing Mitsuki thoroughly, and only going back to it after he almost lost him... "That was exactly what I thought, too," Sarada's voice brought him to this world, his own regret reflecting in her obsidian eyes. "And I... just can't help but thinking... what if it hurt him more than we could ever imagine? That we..." "...didn't even get to know him better..." the blond's voice was almost hollow. Sarada didn't know what more to say to that. They stood in complete, shocked silence for they didn't know how long. "...what... had we been doing all this time...?" Boruto's hand was slowly balled in a fist, his teeth clenched. It hurt the Uchiha to see him like that. These episodes of dark emotions became too often in the Uzumaki, uncomfortably so. It was scaring her... She was afraid that those emotions could lead him to a place where there was no return... "I-I'm sorry," she said, stuttering. "I told you... you wouldn't like this..." Boruto closed his eyes for a minute, his posture still stiff, fists still clenched... He gulped a few times, visibly trying to calm himself down. It started to work slowly... "It's alright, Sarada," he said slowly, sighing as he opened his eyes. "If nothing... you helped me open my eyes." "What do you mean?" Sarada whispered. "I've been doing this wrong all this time." His voice had taken on a firm quality... determined. "No more secrets from now on... When he regains his memories... I'm gonna make sure there will be no more boundaries between us." Relieved, a genuine smile formed on Sarada's lips as she put a hand on his arm, which made Boruto make a double take and glance at her. "Well, we can both agree on that." It took him a minute, but finally, Boruto gave her a smile, too. ... Part of Karin still didn't believe she was doing this. But for some reason... she also didn't feel any threat coming from the situation. No, she... somehow found it easier to trust the person her colleagues and Orochimaru-sama chose not to. Well, she had decided to rule that off as pigheadedness as it was... She put a hand over her belly as she waited. She had come a little earlier than the arranged time. As much as she liked to defy the rules of the 'house'... she still tried to keep as low a profile as possible, to not raise any suspicions... so she had lied and told everyone that she was going to do shopping for her daughter. "Oh I'm sorry - did I make you wait too long?" Startling out of her thoughts, the Uzumaki turned to the source of the voice. There she was, the redhead Kiri kunoichi. She pulled up a chair across from her and sat down. "Thanks for responding... I didn't know who else to reach, since... y'know..." "And how did you know I would come?" Karin asked, mostly out of curiosity. Her question made the woman hesitate for a moment. "Call it a hunch... but I thought only a woman, a mother nonetheless... would understand that I had no ill intentions. I just want to help." And strange enough, Karin could really understand her. That was part of the reason she came... "He has woken up." she said suddenly, and she didn't know why she wanted to reassure this woman. Izumi was clearly taken aback, but slowly, a genuine smile spread across her features. She hadn't been able to catch up on everything since she came to Konoha. "I... that's..." For a moment she was unable to speak. "That's great news... I'm so glad..." Karin wanted to ask her... why was she so keen on helping Mitsuki, especially with the way that she was reminded that she wasn't a welcome help time and time again... But one part of her actually could relate. Her motherly side. Izumi reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial. "Here is what I talked to you about on the phone. You can put it up to any test you would like, but I'm positive it will work. It worked before, on someone I know..." she thought back to the one time they very nearly lost one of her teammates, Masaki, in a mission where he had been confronted by a lightning user... a shiver went down her spine. The Uzumaki took the vial from her, raising it to her eye level. It didn't seem much... but then, as a scientist, she knew very well that most of the powerful medicine (or, well... poisons) look pretty ordinary. "I'm doing this against the wishes of Orochimaru-sama..." she began. "You are doing this because you know it's right." the other woman said, a sort of determination in her voice. "But... I wouldn't want to inconvenience you any further in any case. So, if you'll excuse me..." She got up on her feet, ready to leave. "Will you be staying in Konoha any longer?" Karin suddenly found herself asking, and she could see that she once again caught Izumi by surprise. "Maybe a couple more days... why?" She smiled. "Because I think I would like to let you know about the results." ... "Do you feel comfortable, Mitsuki?" The young boy didn't know how to respond for a moment. Looking down on the pads and cables on his chest, wrists and ankles that connected to some... weird looking machine, his emotions were churning. Then he glanced to the glass panel overseeing the room, and saw the familiar blue haired man, watching intently with his arms crossed... that sent an immense relief coursing through him. "Yes. I'm good." "This is not gonna hurt you," the angel continued explaining lightly. He had also heard her name many times through a lot of people, but for some reason... he preferred to refer to her as angel. "It's just gonna record your heart's activity, and it won't take more than ten minutes." Mitsuki gulped inconspicuously before nodding. "Okay." The pink haired woman gave him an encouraging smile and then started the machine. The boy felt himself relaxing even more when he realized that there was indeed nothing to be afraid of about the procedure. It was over even before he had the time to get bored. As she took the paper coming out of the machine, a thoughtful expression settled on the medic's face. Mitsuki straightened himself on his elbows, looking at her curiously. "Is it bad?" "Hmm?" She didn't exactly look at the boy as she regarded the results. "Well, to tell you the truth... it's a little early to determine that. We will need to run a few more tests." The boy almost groaned at that. He didn't know what possible implications these test results would have, especially if they turned out to be... bad... but he didn't particularly enjoy going through all of them. Seeing his expression, the woman's smile returned. "Don't worry, it's not gonna be something big. I'll just attach a small version of this machine on your chest and it'll monitor your heart's movements for two days. We will talk after that." It felt like a balloon deflated inside of him. The angel patted his hand. "You don't have to worry too much about it, okay? I just don't want you to do anything rash for these days, no sudden movements, nothing that would tire you out." The boy nodded meekly. "Alright, I will be careful." ... Log was a little disoriented as he entered his brother's house. The medic had been vague about her estimates on how Mitsuki's... heart condition was, yet alone whether his memories were returning back or not... And the more he needed to keep the "father" facade up, the more he was worried about the long-term effects on Mitsuki. What if he... was to lose his trust, after his brother found out that he wasn't telling the truth about his parentage? His thoughts came to a standstill when he saw the tall figure of his creator... or the one who Mitsuki had no trouble in assuming the parent role, which he himself just couldn't... emerged from the door. He knew why he had chosen to come out right at this moment, when he had just walked in. Although Orochimaru hadn't gone to the hospital himself yet, he was keeping close tabs on the Taka and him, prying on any bit of information from their conversations, occasionally asking questions if he feels like it. Which... was annoying Log to no end. Mitsuki needed the man who he deemed his father throughout all these years, needed his support, especially now that his health might be a big risk on his ninja life... And this man was doing nothing all day, cooping himself up in this house, only scraping information he doesn't even deserve... Feeling like he might hit something - or rather, someone - if he kept facing Orochimaru, Log turned his back on him, clenching and un-clenching his fists. "So... how is your procrastinating going?" It was almost like he had just dropped a bomb into the room; the silence and tension that had been building between the two of them coming to its peak. Log couldn't care less about that at the moment. He'd had just about enough of Orochimaru's crap. He didn't need to turn around to see that he was frowning. "Watch your tone." "Well, then watch your attitude!" The young man turned to him now, so furious that he felt like he was going to explode. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! How long has it been since Mitsuki woke up?! Why is it so hard to get the hell out of this house right now and go visit him?!" He managed to barely stop, heaving heavy breaths. There was so much he wanted to say, so much left unsolved between the two of them... But what was important now was not himself, but his little brother. "He needs you," he continued, his voice low and tight. "You can at least do what you couldn't previously... make a difference with him, actually become a parent... Yet you sit here all day, hearing the news only from us..." "Unlike you, I do something much more essential," the sannin pretty much hissed through his teeth. The words that were delivered... and his tone, so... belittling... this stirred Log's blood even more. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Your big project. The ultimate medicine that will somehow save the boy you don't even care to visit." "You are not the one to question my reasons." "Maybe I'm not." It was becoming harder and harder to keep his cool. "But good luck explaining them to Mitsuki. Because he won't understand. He doesn't need to understand! He's just a child! Do you even have any idea what you're doing to him?!" "He's strong." "He is not a machine! He has emotions... and you're breaking him!" Not being able to contain himself anymore, the young man punched the wall. "Or do you even care?!" Orochimaru didn't say anything to that... and honestly, Log knew that by now, he shouldn't find it surprising. Yes, Mitsuki was a child driven by his emotions, and although he wouldn't classify himself as sentimental, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do when his little brother was concerned. This man, however... it was as if he was talking to a wall. With the exception that even a wall could be considered more emotional when compared to Orochimaru. "You aren't even gonna say anything?" he asked between gritted teeth. "You will excuse me if I don't think your question merits for an answer." He didn't know why that cold answer hit him like a slap in the face... it certainly wasn't the first time his creator dismissed him in such a manner, only pretending to hear him if his opinion was of any importance. He had learned better than to take offense, believing that he is the better out of the two of them. But there were times like this... Maybe it was because in figuring out that Mitsuki was in need of his father instead of a replacement, it brought into stark attention that he lacked a father figure in his life... for so long... He kept his emotions as far away from his voice as he could when he spoke next. "But when I come to think of it... why am I even surprised, right? After all, you didn't even want to keep him at first when he was born." All he got in a response was the closing of the door as the sannin got back into his son's room. Log closed his eyes for a moment as the unwanted memory of his brother's first day came into his mind... [Flashback] Wuaaaah wuaaaah... The long and constant cry of the baby was starting to kill the young boy's ears, it sounded like an annoying siren that slowly wanted to end with his ears. The child in his arms hadn't stopped crying since he had been taken out of the tube that Orochimaru had broken in his anger towards the project... Was the child scared? Hungry? Sleepy? The blue haired boy had no idea and he was sure that he wasn't the best person to comfort a crying newborn... where was Karin when she was needed? She certainly could fit the role better... The child sniffled a little and then he was at it again, the boy really didn't know how a baby this small could produce such a wail. Was he even that noisy when...? He crumpled his face as he remembered that person... and a pain plunged in his chest. He was starting to grow desperate... The baby's distress was making him restless, almost desperate to do something to calm him... Awkwardly, he swayed him side to side. "Sssh... it's gonna be okay..." He added as an afterthought. "I'm here..." And slowly the child started calming down, the cry moved on to a simple whimper, a little pout in his mouth and big tears at the corners of his eyes as he slowly opened them. It almost made his heart skip a beat... yes, he was aware that this child was technically a clone of himself, just smaller, but... seeing those eyes, as amber colored as his own, it made him feel... strange? Like the child was looking into his soul. "U-Um..." he didn't know what to say. "Hi?" He almost slapped himself mentally, why was he saying that, the child wouldn't understand him! But at least his ears were feeling much better now. He didn't know why he did that but the oldest boy moved his hand and his index finger touched the child's nose... and it made the baby let out an unintelligible noise before he moved his tiny, tiny hands out of the blanket and grabbed his finger. Another skip in the boy's heart-beat... What was that feeling...? Why did it feel... nice, the way that little hand was holding on to his finger...? Like the baby did understand him and was trying to say hi himself? Or that he was somehow... seeking support from him? Why did he suddenly feel like he was glad he was given this solitary moment to meet the baby? "Umm... okay..." he gulped nervously, and then smiled at the thought that came to his mind. "I guess this makes me... an older brother now, huh? Heh..." Those words felt both a little odd but too right at the same time. The child blinked and maybe it was a trick from his mind but... it seemed like the corners of the mouth of the little one curled into a smile? He didn't have time to process that... as Orochimaru finally returned inside the laboratory. The child immediately stood up from the chair he was sitting on and started following his creator with his eyes. It didn't go unnoticed to the boy what the black haired sannin had in his hands. A basket? As Orochimaru put it on the top of the table, his curiosity couldn't be kept out. "What is that for?" he wasn't usually one to question his parent's actions but... something felt off... "For the child." he said without looking at him. "You're going to leave him at Konohagakure, Mitsuki." And that made the boy freeze... turning the words in his head, trying to understand the meaning, although he had a nagging feeling of what they probably meant... "I what?" "He is not going to stay here." the sannin said curtly, as if putting an end to the conversation. "I need you to deliver him to the orphanage in Konoha, making sure you're not seen. The director is an old disciple of mine." He had delivered this speech with such an emotionless voice that... Knowing him or not, the boy felt his blood boiling beneath his skin. So when the man reached forward to take the baby... the boy's arms tightened a little more around his "brother", and he took a step back before half turning backward, shielding the baby from sight. "No." This simple protest was enough for Orochimaru to furrow his brows. "This is not up for discussion, Mitsuki." "That is not fair!" he raised his voice, brows furrowed as well. "What did he do? You created him and now you want to get rid of him!? Is that how your little game goes?!" "You know nothing." Orochimaru took a step forward and Log took another step backwards, the determination clear in his eyes. Mitsuki had never really cared about what Orochimaru did or his experiments in general but this one... he didn't know why but it was just calling for help, even if the baby in his arms had said nothing... "I know enough to know that you're not even allowed to do this!" he said pointing to himself and to the baby. "We aren't even supposed to exist and yet we do. I wonder what that ninja that watches the hideout twenty-four hours a day would say if he found out." The sannin's eyes narrowed at that, and the boy almost gulped at the look in his eyes... almost. But the presence of the baby... gave him the courage he needed, and his chin pushed up a little in defiance. "What is this?" his creator asked in a hiss, his tone dangerous... "Are you trying to threaten me?" A fine coat of sarcasm had seeped in the tone, as if daring him... guessing from experiences that he won't. But the boy's voice was clearer when he next spoke. "Make me go out... make me take him out and I will do much more than going to Konoha." He was sure he had crossed the line... only, he didn't care. "You insolent child...!" the sannin roared, Mitsuki was sure he had never seen such an angry look in his creator's eyes, it was a roar that even shook the baby in his arms and it made him cry once again. "Do you have any idea of what you're saying?! Of what kind of power that child holds?!" "I may not know but I do know that you created him and you should take full responsibility of what you did! Instead you want to drop him in your former village?! You want to drop such a "bomb" of power when only you know how to control it?!" The baby continued to cry, his arms moving out of the blanket, his hands closed in fists and his head moving from side to side. It was clear that he didn't like this discussion... almost as if he could understand it... Instinctively, the older brother once again tried to soothe the baby, it was becoming natural for him... then he raised his head to glare at the sannin, meeting daggers himself. "You are scaring him. I hope you will learn to take better care of him, because he's staying." "You are not the one making the rules here!" "Am I not?" The boy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Feel free to try me." With each word he was uttering... he felt a warm spot growing inside of him... a need to be beside this baby whenever and however he needs him... He was already born into unpredictable circumstances... he would surely need his help in the times to come. The sannin clenched his teeth in anger but didn't say anything. "So here is the deal..." his eyes shone with confidence. "You'll raise him properly, not as a weapon... you'll take good care of him and my mouth will be kept shut... no one will know that you kept making experiments. But try to get rid of this baby..." his voice faded as he looked back at the baby, a wondrous expression filling his eyes. "Mitsuki... that will be his name from now on." "Oh? And what are you supposed to be called then?" "I will decide on that." the boy said curtly, not taking his eyes off from his brother. "... but try to get rid of him or me..." he looked back at his creator. "And I promise that every nation will know about what you've been doing. And I can assure you that they won't spare you a second chance. I don't care how much power you put in him, you did it and so you will take care of it. He will not be a bomb slowly ticking to explode..." And with that the boy started walking towards the door that led outside the laboratory. "I will be in my room." The door opened, only to reveal the three members of the Taka acting like they hadn't been listening to the conversation. [End of Flashback] Log came to his senses as he heard the apartment door opening. Suigetsu rushed there when he saw his girlfriend walking in. "Where have you been? I was beginning to worry..." "Hey, don't forget who you're talking to," Karin said as she raised the shopping bags she was carrying. "These aren't gonna miraculously appear on our doorstep, you know." As she walked inside, she once again addressed to her boyfriend, keeping her voice low so they won't be overheard. "We need to speak." ... Mitsuki was trying not to get too bored as he laid on his bed, having just given up on counting the drops in the IV attached to his arm. He had hold up good to the angel's words up until now. Most of his awake hours passed with drifting in and out of sleep, watching some TV when he felt like it, reading a book that someone had kindly brought... but of course after about five hours, it had become tiring. He started to feel like... wish that... he could do something else... that wouldn't include this small room. Sighing, he tried to focus his attention elsewhere. He was healing, nothing much to do about it. The blue haired man, who he called his father, had left not long after the angel finished the exams concerning his heart, not before he had seen him once more in his bedroom but the visit had been brief... Mitsuki wished he had stayed longer to keep him company. He was even starting to miss the presence of the blond boy who was always there with him and his bubbly little sister, even though they had just been there this morning. What else could he do in this room...? Sighing, the child decided to step out of the bed and grabbing the IV to bring it with him, Mitsuki approached the window, opened it and allowed the fresh air to reach him. It was a beautiful day... the sun that shone outside, although it was going steadily down the horizon, sent warmness coursing through him, and before he knew it... a smile slowly spread across his face. It felt... joyful, lively... it almost made him sad that he had missed this feeling for a month and half. He put a hand on the sill, closing his eyes and slightly leaning forward... and he made a promise to himself then and there, that he would never take this blissful sensation for granted... Suddenly a rush of wind shot past, close enough for him to feel it. The boy's eyes snapped open in surprise. What was that...? He had to lean out a bit more to understand what that had been, and taking a better look outside and then up, he saw many figures jumping around the different ceilings of the village. Mitsuki was hit with a sensation he hadn't felt since he woke up, it was like... what they were doing was calling for him... like... like he had done this before too... He couldn't recognize much of these figures but two of them caught his eye, the two people that had been there when he woke up... Boruto... and Sarada... What were they doing? It looked like they were chasing the other people... he saw Boruto jump from a ceiling to another and suddenly he was out of view. He had probably jumped to the hospital's ceiling. Faintly, the girl's voice reached his ears through the clear air. Warning Boruto about something... Mitsuki didn't know why but he felt his pulse racing as he craned his neck to try and follow the blond, although he had no chance whatsoever to see from here... Clashing noises, metal against metal, the battle was on full force... Mitsuki hoped that things were going in Boruto and Sarada's favor... He had no way of knowing how many opponents the blond had taken on, but it sounded too many... Then he heard a scream... Realizing that it was from the girl, his gaze immediately shot upwards... And like in slow motion, his eyes widened in shock when he saw Boruto falling from the roof, he thought he heard him scream too.

#boruto #naruto #mitsuki #sacrifices #sarada #sakura #himawari #log #orochimaru #karin #izumi

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spartanguard · 6 years

Text

growing old is nothing to fear

based on @pirateherokillian‘s awesomely silver foxy gif right there and this conversation between her and @sherlockianwhovian: What if something in an upcoming episode causes Killian to age faster than normal? (With Zelena along for the ride because why not and I love her and Green Hook in-laws is my jam).

un-beta’d. 1.8 k. rated S for SILVER FOX

Bloody magic. Hadn’t it caused enough strife in Killian’s life already? Despite its occasional use, he’d long grown tired of the many ways it was used for harm rather than good.

Yet, here he was on a quest for another magical object, hidden behind an enchanted door, on the journey with a former witch.

“At least this is all the magic we’ll need,” Zelena commented as he found the invisible knob of the magically hidden doorway. The notes on the map had made it incredibly specific: magic could not be used to retrieve this item. “I can barely remember what my powers felt like, and you haven’t had any since—oh wait, wrong you.”

He turned the knob and tugged the door open, revealing a dimly lit tunnel that seemed to appear from thin air, and turned back to Zelena, incredulous. “The other me had magic?” That seemed horrifically out of character, but then again, for the last few decades, he’d lived a vastly different life than the Hook she knew, even if he no longer looked it.

“Oh, I think you’ll quite like that tale. I’ll tell it when we get through this,” she teased, approaching the entrance to the dimly lit tunnel behind the door and gesturing down it. “Shall we, darling?”

“Lead the way.” Everyone else might trust her, but he wasn’t quite ready to have his back to the ex-sorceress just yet. Maybe it had something to do with Alice’s mother, or maybe it was just the fact that he was still unnerved to be around someone who acted like they knew him, but didn’t truly.

The air in the tunnel was heavy and dry, as if its jagged stone walls were trying to smother them with a blanket. There didn’t seem to be an end in sight, and the light of the clearing from whence they’d come grew smaller and dimmer as they traveled down it in companionable silence. Eventually, the only light was that of the torches placed periodically on the walls, and Killian found his eyes straining to see in the gloom.

“You know, I hadn’t noticed it before, but that silver makes you look quite distinguished.” Zelena’s voice broke the quiet, but left him baffled.

“Pardon?”

“I’m just saying, I understand the term ‘silver fox’ now.”

“I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, love.” He knew he far outpaced her in years but he’d only recently reclaimed the confidence he’d had as a younger man; even if her comments seemed to be in admiration, he wasn’t keen on the implication.

“Surely a man as vain as you, Captain, would notice when he started going gray.”

His hand flew up to the hair at his temple. “What?”

They stopped walking. “You seriously hadn’t noticed? Hang on.” She fished through her pockets for a moment before exclaiming “Here we go!” and producing a small mirror, which she then held up to his face.

To his shock, the hair at the side of his face, and streaks across the top, were indeed significantly lighter than the rest, and white was now peppered through his beard. It followed the same pattern it had when he’d first started going gray, all those years ago. He remembered teasing Alice that it was all her fault, and smirked at the memory; but something about this didn’t sit right. “That wasn’t there this morning.”

“Well, age has to catch up with all of us at some point. No use in complaining about it,” Zelena shrugged, and turn to continue on. But he saw a flash of something in her own fiery locks, and grabbed her arm to stop her.

She tried to protest, but he just reached to her scalp and plucked. Of course, that drew even more whining, but it abruptly stopped when she saw what was in his hand: a curly silver hair of her own. “Seems you’ve got a streak of gray yourself, love.” And he could see another one woven through her updo.

“Psh, it was bound to happen at some point. Come on.” She trudged ahead, but he was now on alert—something strange was going on in this tunnel. He didn’t say anything, but he watched as more silver worked its way through her hair the deeper into the tunnel they went.

Though the path was even, they both gradually slowed down, despite having not traveling long enough for fatigue to really set in. The air temperature hadn’t changed, but he eventually had to concede defeat as he wiped the sweat off his brow and worked to undo buttons on his vest in an attempt to cool himself off. He sighed in relief upon loosening the last closure; the brocade had been constricting and stifling, and the cool air on his skin through his thin top felt divine.

His exhale caught Zelena’s attention, who glanced back at him, and then began to smirk and bit her lip as if holding back a laugh.

“What is it?” he groaned, surprised at how gravelly his voice sounded, though he wasn’t particularly thirsty.

“I think I see why Emma wanted your other self to give up the rum,” she quipped.

He wanted to be offended, but a glance down showed that there was a bit of a paunch on his belly that was also a recent acquisition—or, rather, reacquisition. But it had taken years for his stomach to go soft the first time; why was it doing so at such a rapid rate now?

“Let me see your mirror again.” She held it up for him, and it was just as he suspected: the fine lines on his face had grown deeper, and his hair and beard were now full gray, though thankfully more well-kept than they had been before his recent transformation.

As he pondered his reflection, the hand holding the looking glass changed color, taking on what he thought looked like a deep green hue, but the damned lighting made it hard to tell. She seemed to notice at the same moment, only with a far more violent reaction: she screamed and dropped the mirror, shattering it.

“What the hell is this place?” she shouted at no one in particular. “Why am I turning green again?”

“And old,” he added, pointing up at her hair that was nearly as silver as his. She grabbed for her ponytail and released an equally horrified sound at the discovery. “Now, when you say ‘again’...” he started, hoping she would fill in the blanks.

“I used to be literally green with envy. It was only Glinda’s magic that removed it. Oh god, is it anywhere else?” She knelt to look at herself in the broken mirror shards, but he was hung up on that word: magic. They’d both had it used on them to change their physical appearance. He was fairly certain he knew what was going on now, but he had one more question.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were also frozen under a curse for a lengthy period of time, yes?”

She stood up, albeit slowly. “Yeah, what of it?”

He nodded; it seemed to be as he suspected. “It appears to me that this cavern not only does not permit the use of magic, but...it erases it as well.”

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, giving him a glance at the green that was making its way up her neck. “So…”

“So my recent return to youth via a fairy’s wand is well on its way to reversal. And you, my dear, are finally looking the age you should be.”

She set her jaw and scowled at the news; he had to admit, he felt rather the same way. “I thought only magic had a price,” she complained. “Not no magic, too.”

“To be fair, we are still in search of magic,” he offered with a shrug.

“True,” she reluctantly agreed, crossing her arms and sulking.

“We may as well continue on; the damage is probably done.” It had been nice being a young man again, but he supposed he didn’t really need to be one anymore. He was still damn handsome, anyways.

Wordlessly, they set off once more. Killian’s belt eventually reached a point of tightness that told him the transformation was complete on his end, but he didn’t want to slow them down to loosen it—the general decay of their joints was doing a good enough job of that on its own. He did hazard a look over at his companion; the green now covered her skin, and though lines on her face made her look significantly older, she hadn’t lost her poise or glamor.

“You know...green and silver is an awfully fetching combination,” he observed out loud. She didn’t say anything in response, but he did see a small smile replace her frown, and the apples of her cheeks turned a darker green.

It wasn’t long before they reached the end of the tunnel, which opened into a wide room. The amulet they sought was prominently displayed in the middle, with a healthy supply of traps and tripwires around it. It took some time to navigate, given their less-than-spry bodies, but they successfully reached the center and claimed the tool.

As soon as Killian’s hand wrapped around the charm, it was as if the entire journey hadn’t happened: they were immediately back in the clearing, youthful glow intact, though still with the amulet in their possession.

Both quickly took stock of their forms and each other’s; his gut was gone and his hair felt smooth again, while Zelena’s bright red locks and fair skin tone had returned. It was almost as jarring as the first change.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed, unsure of what the hell had just happened, but at least it appeared to be over.

“Yeah,” Zelena agreed, hesitantly. “I guess that’s that.”

They stood silent for a few more moments, processing, before both seemed to shake themselves out of it. Their mission wasn’t done yet. With a wordless nod, they both headed off in the direction of the camp.

Knowing what he’d look and feel like some time in the future truthfully had been more of an annoyance to Killian than anything, given that it was his past as much as his future. But he could tell it was still nagging at Zelena in the way she worried her bottom lip.

“I wasn’t lying back there: verdigris or not, you’ll be a rather attractive older lady, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

She chuckled, but shook her head. “No, it’s not that; I had no worries there,” she said emphatically. “Just being reminded of my own mortality is all.”

“Ah, yes. Well, we’ve made it this far. No need to fear what lies ahead in that regard.”

“Very true,” she conceded. “And you’ll be quite the looker yourself, Captain.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. Now I believe you owe me a story about my other self and magic?”

She cackled in glee. “Oh, where do I begin?”

i’m not even sure who to tag, but y’all might like this (my apologies if not; feel free to ignore): @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @flipperbrain @laschatzi @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells

#silver fox killian #kj ff #wish hook #green hook #ouat spoilers #wish killian jones #idk how to tag this #my ff

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