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yelenasgreenvest · 3 years

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Chemtrails (Yelena Belova x reader)

Summary: You and Yelena are finally free from the mind control of being a black widow. How does everything fare out as you both return to Ohio to start a new life?

Pairings: Yelena Belova x reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers (Kinda platonic, kinda not), Alexei Shoskatoff x Melina Vostokova

Word Count: 1,862

Translations: Malishka (Baby), Krasotka (Beautiful), Liybimaya (My Love)

Masterlist

There were some people who had the idea that being on the run meant being scared, lonely, always on edge. Perhaps that is how it should have felt. You just felt like you were free. Free from being used in any way. They treated you as if you were just another pawn on the chessboard as if you were just another number to them. It is a piece that no one will remember.

Yelena too. The two of you had freed yourselves and the others from the harsh crutches of being a black widow. A killer and a trained spy in all the fields that a spy could be. Sly, sneaky, conniving, and murderous. There had never been a time when you had any control over your actions. Never being able to be yourself. Living life on the edge, skirting all over the world in a number of days. Killing people without a second thought, because you weren't able to control your mind. You weren't in control.

Until Yelena came along. Till she abolished the control over your mind and cut the tracker from your leg. Till she held you while your body wracked with sobs of finally being free.

She stayed with you, helped you recover physically and mentally. Patching up wounds with medical bits she found in gas stations. Driving stolen cars and motorbikes through the darkness of the night. A new city each day, hiding in rundown motels on the side of highways. Each one of them smelling worse than the previous one.

In the aftermath of Dreykov's death, you would keep your eyes on the news to make sure the black widows left over weren't doing any harm. Once you both reached Ohio, where she planned to meet up with her family and establish a base to free the black widows, you both could be free. Over the long nights of traveling and the days of laying low, you went from strangers to lovers very quickly.

You weren't sure when it happened, but she fell first. A glance at you that was once cold has become a loving gaze. As she learned what food you liked, she would be sure to bring it back from her grocery store runs. It was something you didn't notice at first. She changed her attitude towards you suddenly and when her touches on your wounds became lighter and she began to tell you more about her life, you too began to fall. You discovered why she was aiming for Ohio in the first place. In other words, she did not want to be what she was made to be. Both of your skills would only earn you dirty money, and she desperately just wanted to settle down. You did not talk about children between the two of you, but you frequently talked about a dog shelter.

As soon as you reached a small suburban home on the outskirts of Ohio, you and your partner quickly went into undercover mode. Posing as a newlywed couple, with her sister who is a part-time science teacher and her parents who are coming to welcome the new family. In the morning it appeared like bliss to the neighbors, but really it was at night when the family seemed to sit around and play Monopoly that they planned their roles for recovering the last of the black widows. The rest of the widows who had been freed would come over under the guise of being friends, but Yelena and you would give them money and new identification provided by Mason, so they could start their new lives. The widows wanted their chance to live a normal life, just as you and Yelena did. Many of those who rely on doing what they know only too well, choose to work with Melina in St Petersburg.

In less than a year, everyone was free. With the last of the widows freed, Dreykov's remnants were abolished. You and Yelena were finally free. As soon as the word was given you and Yelena marched straight down to the shelter where she picked a gorgeous American akita and Yelena straight away called her Fanny. When Natasha heard the name, she rolled her eyes and asked, "Really Yelena? I hate that name. You know how much I hate it. In response, Yelena hit back with an infamous "HA!"" and Fanny had now become a part of your dysfunctional family. Alexei and Melina flew in and out every few months, checking up on both of you or on some wild mission to find Captain America. It was much to Alexei’s surprise the day Natasha brought Steve Rogers home, posing as her husband.

“Papa, you remember Steve. My adoring husband" Each word spit back as fast as possible while making sure Alexei didn't start a mini war among them right under their noses. Natasha was extremely coy at first and you didn't know whether there was anything more than just friendship between them.

During their time at the Ohio house, Yelena and Natasha would relax in the small pool that is located out the back. Their tanned skin became more obvious as they raced in laps of the pool against one another under the scorching summer sun. The whole family had a good laugh when Steve wore swim trunks with the American flag on them and then had another fit when Alexei wore ones with the Russian flag on them. “I feel like all my dreams have come true” Yelena said hazily as she kissed your hand on the lawn chairs.

“What dream is that Krasotka?” you asked, smiling as you didn’t fully take in her deep words. “I have my family back” you felt the strings of your heart being pulled at the softness of the girl's words.

She pulled on your hand and led you to join her on the lawn chair, sitting in her lap. As she wrapped her arms around your waist, you looked up into the clear blue sky to see a distant plane leave a long white trail in the clear blue sky. “What are the white lines made of?" It was a question you asked aloud. "Maybe the government is slowly poisoning us with Dreykov's toxic chemicals," she said in a funny way, but you knew it was on everyone's mind. What if he wasn't really dead after all. What if the dream turned into a nightmare and you were no longer yourself. Your panic caused your breath to quicken its pace, and you touched the beautiful gemstones you wore around your neck. Some eastern culture your therapist had thrust onto you, rubbing some amethyst and turquoise would help ease the pain of the memories. In a manner of speaking, it did work, as it eased the nightmares little by little. There were times when holding those tiny stones felt like clutching a lifeline. You desperately try to hold onto this reality with Yelena as long as possible. The blissfulness of it all. Yelena became restless after losing the constant sense of action that had been part of her life. The excitement of going to the farmers market only lasted for a limited amount of time. It was one of those days when the rumble of an engine and the smell of gas broke your concentration from doing laundry, and you were met by a gorgeous vintage red Chevy pulling into the driveway. The look on Yelena's face was incomprehensible, which made you hard to believe that she had just went out and bought such an immaculate, expensive-looking vehicle. The car was a convertible and fanny sat in the back, her tongue hanging out, panting in the golden sun, as she sat there. "We are supposed to keep things on the low down" you whispered to your 'fake' wife, scolding her.

It's time to enjoy yourself, Malishka!"

You knew it was worth it when the rouge on her lips matched the color of the cherry red car. When she opened the passenger side door, she motioned for you to get into the car.

"No no, I think it's time for me to take this baby for a spin". You pushed her across the white leather as you got into the driver's seat and sat in it. There was a soft white leather under your grip on the wheel. "Don't you like it, sweetheart?" Yelena smirked at you as you adjusted the mirror while Yelena was chatting. Upon turning the key, the engine roared to life. "Shhh sweetheart, you'll pay for this later" and you took off racing down the avenues of white picket fences, passing children playing in the front gardens.

Families who seemed perfect on the outside but you knew that each one had their problems. As you reached well over the speed limit, with your hair blowing wildly behind you, you felt as if you were at liberty. It was impossible for those families to stop you from doing what you did. You could not be stopped by Dreykov. At that moment, all you wanted was to keep speeding along the winding roads while Yelena put her hands up, grasping at the invisible air. She was your sweet love. Your happiness. She made the freedom worth it. The winding roads soon gave way to a small clearing where you were able to park your car on the side of the road. The engine died slowly, and her smile was beaming back at you, pure happiness oozing from both of you. Fanny jumped out of the car, her paw pads crushing the gravel under her feet as she jumped. She trotted around sniffing at the new surroundings. In the company of Yelena, you made your way to a small bench that overlooked a valley. The sun was looking low and heavy as it was making its way towards the horizon for yet another day. The silence was relaxing, settling over you as you stared out at the sky. Yelena spoke openly from the heart or perhaps her soul when she said, "I am not religious, but if there is a god out there somewhere, I hope he lets it stay like this forever.". The truth is, she was never one to think of such things in this way, especially in regards to god, religion or even something as grave as losing what you had. "It's not going to happen. We have made it. Nothing could break us apart, Liybimaya”

I know, I know, I feel silly thinking about it when this perfect paradise is all around us; but I cannot help it.

"There is nothing wrong with contemplating God…. or our paradise…. If you have second thoughts-”

“No. God no.” She took a deep breath and replied, “That's not what I'm saying. I am terrified that I will wake up back in the red room. That all of this was just a dream"

You scooted over to her side of the bench and cradled her against you and said, "I'm real, baby.". The sun set, leaving you and your partner in the darkness, the streetlight flickering behind you. It is time for us to go home"

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crowsmybeloveds · 3 years

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Shadow and Bone Series: Chapter Two

In Cold Blood

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x Reader

Summary: The Crows continue to visit Y/N at the Emerald Palace, and make some interesting developments.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Implied suicide (don’t take it too seriously hint hint); abuse; Pekka Rollins; again canon typical violence/slave stuff (this time it’s described more, but again nothing graphic); the Menagerie;

A/N: Thank you so much if you liked the first chapter!!! This one is a little longer and I promise the end isn’t as bad as it might seem.

Masterlist

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Jesper Fahey liked to do his own thing. Sure, as a member of the Dregs he had to listen to his boss and go on jobs, but he loved his free time in between. Hence, he often avoided going on little arends for Kaz at all costs. It would be a waste of his time.

Jesper Fahey was now talking to Kaz. Volunteering for an arend. For the fourth time this week.

Kaz, Inej, and Jesper had been visiting the girl in the basement regularly since their first meeting with her. Kaz chalked it up to business, the girl and her potions were powerful assets, but the other two would admit they had found a new friend.

There were rules to these visits. First, only go during the day. Even if it seemed counterintuitive to sneak there in the broad daylight, Y/N insisted she would be unavailable in the night, as that was when her “work” was done. Also, if you are there, you must hide well behind the crates, and remain armed. You were lucky every time you made it out of there alive.

It was a daunting task, but Jesper was always up for it.

“You’re going to go there again?” Kaz asked him, eyebrows raised, “You know it’s Inej’s turn, correct?”

“Yes, and I also don’t care,” Jesper answered, “Also, she probably has things to see, people to do, and whatnot. I, on the other hand, have my whole day cleared. And I couldn’t deprive the lovely basement girl of this face.” He smiled, pointing to himself, “I mean, come on.”

Kaz stared at him, seeing through his antics in a minute. Jesper had taken a liking to the girl. What will happen the day he visits to find she’s not there anymore? Kaz thought. His hopes are too high.

“Fine, Jesper,” He agreed, “but be careful not to draw attention.” He scrunched his nose. “Do your best not to dawdle.”

“Right, I’m off then!” Jesper exclaimed as he clapped his hands together and ran off.

“I’m going tomorrow!” Kaz shouted after him.

The sharpshooter knew his boss was suspicious of his actions, but in all honesty he didn’t care. Normally he would have thought there wasn’t much spending time with her could do, as she had told him many of the same things over and over. That must have meant she had told him all that she knew. But Jesper was not going for information, he was going to be with her. He liked to think they were friends.

Jesper was often distracted. Whether he saw a pretty person to flirt with or a table to gamble at, he always found a way to not be doing whatever he was supposed to. Everything around him was so appealing and stimulating, especially in the Barrel. Even so, he sped down the streets without a single double take or second thought as he headed to the Emerald Palace. He really wanted to see her. So bad it was addicting. At first he thought that maybe the girl was drugging him, seeing as that is her particular expertise, but soon he realized that he just liked her. She was funny, and she laughed at all his jokes. She was also so intriguing. So powerful yet rendered powerless. He was enchanted, but he knew something was missing. It seemed it wasn’t her fault. He wanted to help.

That day when he arrived at the window (after making sure no one could see him, of course) Jesper saw Y/N sitting against the wall with her legs hugged to her chest. He called her name softly, and waited for her to reply. She didn’t reply, or even move. Against his better judgement, he shouted louder, risking being discovered by one of Pekka’s crew. He didn’t care. He banged the windows. Praying she would say something. Or turn her head. Or nod. Anything. She didn’t. A single tear rolled down her face.

Y/N had been sitting there for three hours. There wasn’t much to be said about what had happened. Only that she did not remember, whether her loss of memory was intentional or not. It was an off day, that’s all.

Jesper was panicking. He had no idea how to get her to wake up. That is, if she was asleep. Truthfully, he did not know what was wrong with her or what to do. Unfortunately, his noise making had roused a different group of people. Jesper had to run down the alley as he heard shouts coming his direction. He ran the rest of the way home, still in shock. He was not haunted by his near escape with the Dime Lions, but the look on the girl’s face. What had they done to her?

“And she didn’t move at all?” Inej asked. Jesper had just explained to her what happened after he showed up to her room at the Slat. She hadn’t appreciated being woken up from one of her rare naps, but she didn’t complain when she saw the look on his face.

“Not that I could see,” he replied, shaking his head, “Inej, I swear she could hear me.”

Inej did not know what to say. This kind of behavior was not usual for Jesper. He had his normal amount of energy, but it was not often it was all directed to one place: worry. It was odd that something upset him and he did not distract from it by going to gamble or making a joke.

“I just, if it were you I’d understand, but who could ignore me?” he said, “Going unnoticed is not a Jesper talent.”

There it was.

“You’re deflecting” She called him out, “It’s not funny. We should tell Kaz.”

“That's not funny,” Jesper replied, “what is Kaz gonna do? Tell us to stop talking to her?”

Inej sighed. It’s possible that he would advise that. But he also wouldn’t just let Pekka Rollins keep his most dangerous weapon. Especially not when she didn’t seem to have much loyalty. She had told Inej so many times. The girls had a bond due to the Menagerie, and Y/N told her much about her past and present. She explained different chemicals she had made and plans she had heard to Kaz. But with Inej, she explained how she felt about them.

Y/N hated every second in that basement. She had told Inej as much. Repeatedly. But she was rather scatterbrained. She repeated herself often and forgot things that she had already been told. She would forget what day it was and what she had done the night before. Inej had experience with trauma and sleep deprivation enough to shrug this off. She didn’t want to cause her friend anguish by questioning it.

The incident Jesper was describing made her think that maybe she should. Y/N was smart. Hell, she was a self taught Grisha fabrikator. So good, she could kill people from miles away. How could she be so forgetful? Someone so scientifically gifted must have a better mind than that. Someone must have been messing with it.

After some convincing to Jesper that Kaz would not kill or give up on Y/N, the pair made their way to their boss’s office.

“I was waiting for this to happen,” was Kaz’s response.

“What, that’s it?” Jesper raised his voice, “You have nothing else to say?”

Kaz glared at him from his desk. “I don’t know that you thought through your attachment to her, Jesper. You should never have assumed she was on our side.”

Jesper stared bullets at his boss in front of them. They seriously weren’t going to help her at all? She needed to get out of there, he knew that for certain. If it wasn’t because he cared about her then it should be because she is an asset. A good investment. Saints, he hated calling her that.

He didn’t say any of this, however, and instead started to walk out of the office. Just before he was out the door, he heard Brekker speak up.

“I’ll go and see her tomorrow.”

When Kaz Brekker reached the girl’s window, he gave it exactly seven taps with his cane, with a very specific beat. It was a signal he had made with Y/N so that she knew to open the window and talk to him without him having to raise his voice.

The girl turned toward the window at the sound. She set down the bottle she was currently working on and walked over. Kaz started speaking as soon as it was opened.

“How long have they been drugging you?”

Y/N scoffed, “Hello to you, too!”

“How long?”

“Um, never?” She replied, getting confused. “They don’t drug me with anything. I’d notice. That’s kind of my job description.”

Kaz looked to the side, thinking. The only way to explain her odd behavior, forgetfulness, and calmness in her position was that she was being manipulated. And because she was constantly making poisons and “potions” for Pekka, it made sense that she was being given her own drugs without her knowledge. He had thought this since he’d met her. She had to be on some sort of relaxers when he first saw her. Why else would she have so willingly opened the window for strangers?

“Why did you ignore Jesper when he was here yesterday?” He asked, hoping to get the information from her in a more roundabout way.

“I didn’t?” Y/N asked, “Inej was here yesterday, she got those vials of knockout gas you asked for.”

Kaz squinted at her, “Y/N, that was two days ago.”

She shook her head, “No, no, because I was working on those just yesterday and I just finished them when she stopped by. I haven’t seen Jesper in a couple of days, Kaz. Are you feeling ok?”

Kaz wasn’t sure how to react to this. She had missed the whole day? He was sure things like this had been going on this whole time, but never in the month since they began speaking with her has she forgotten a whole day. She had to have taken something.

“Are you self medicating?”

“No! Why- what are you talking about? What is going on?”

“Y/N, Jesper came here yesterday and you were sitting in that corner near catatonic. You wouldn’t speak or even move.” Kaz informed her.

“He must not have shouted loud enough, I was probably asleep.”

“You normally sleep with your eyes open?” He is tone was sharp. “Jesper said you were crying.”

She didn’t respond. She was shocked out of her mind. It was possible Kaz was lying to her to get some sort of information out of her, but it didn’t seem that way. He looked uneasy, the kind of unease that comes from not knowing something. He was a very smart man, and when something did not make sense to him he got nervous. So, this must have actually happened. And if she could not remember it, something was terribly wrong.

“I’m sorry, Kaz. I just don’t remember.”

“Fine. Then I need you to stop eating the food they give you. I’ll have Inej stop by with something to eat during the day.” Kaz paused, thinking. “And I would like to get you out of here, and have you join the Dregs. I just have to figure out how.”

“No, Kaz. I can’t leave.”

“Why? You have loyalties to Pekka Rollins?” He asked, anger clear in his voice.

Do I? She thought. While she knew his treatment of her was unfair, she wondered whether or not she still cared about him. In her time at the Emerald Palace, Pekka had told her many things about how he was the only one who would ever care for her. He claimed that he had saved her from the Menagerie, and he was taking care of her because he loved her. He also said that he would help her find her sister, often claiming that the potions Y/N was making was helping him follow leads about her.

When he started bringing men down into Y/N’s room, she was only a teenager. The first man that had ever touched her in that room also told her information about upcoming trips, which Pekka used to choose the perfect time to rob his house. Y/N felt disgusting in her skin ever since, but Pekka reassured her. I’m sorry , canary. I’ll protect you. Those men are not like me. While any sane person would call giving her food and shelter supplying her basic needs, Pekka called it courtesy. A gift because he loved her. A gift that could be taken away. He let men take advantage of her just so she could get him information, and then called it love. And she believed him. Until one day.

A man had come down into her room, which was usual for her on any given night. However, this man started out rough and stayed that way for the rest of his visit. She had tried her best with past men to get as much information as she could through simple flirting and drugging, but he was not there for small talk. For a brief moment, she considered saying no. In the moment following, she remembered what happened the other times she had done so.

She didn’t get any of the information she had been asked to draw from the man. Pekka was livid. The argument following had been explosive and painful. Not just emotionally.

“This isn’t love.” She tried to say it in a firm voice, but it came out broken and weak.

“How could you possibly know?” Pekka replied.

“Because you don’t deny it.” She said, summoning the strength to look up at him. “The men who come down here sometimes mention their wives. They might not be the pinnacle of married men, but I know they would never do this. This is bad for me.”

“Oh, is it so bad for you?” He raised his voice. “And who is going to treat you better, hm? Who out there would possibly care about you like I do?”

She turned her back to him. She sniffled as she cleaned up her worktable, silently hoping he would just leave.

He grabbed her arm, whipping her around to face him. “I don’t care if you hate me. You will stay here because of Anais. You will stay because you need me.”

The memory was scarring.

Kaz watched as Y/N got lost in her own thoughts. His voice startled her out of her memories. “Y/N, do you have loyalties to him?”

“My sister, Anais.” She breathed. “He is helping me find my sister.”

“Is that all?”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I need to find her. Have you ever had any siblings?”

Kaz paused for a moment. The comment seemed to toy with him. “No.”

“Then you don’t get it. I want to be with people I belong with. To figure out where I’m from.” She sighed. “Pekka is helping me with that.”

“And he has proven that he is actually doing so?”

“He said that he knew she was involved with the slavers who took me away. He is getting in with them to try and figure out where they took her.”

“Y/N, I don’t think he is actually doing that.” Kaz said, shaking his head. “This is your reason for staying?”

“And I have nowhere else to go!”

Kaz took a deep breath. He had decided what he was going to do for the girl since the day he met her. She was an asset. With her power he could complete jobs and gain kruge with record speed. Not to mention, if Kaz had her on his side, Pekka didn’t. The sweet taste of revenge covered his tongue just at the thought.

“I have an offer,” he began, “You come with me. Not now, but soon. I’ll come everyday to ask questions and we’ll plan your escape. In the meantime, you gather your things discreetly and try to find as much dirt on Rollins as you can.”

“But my sister -“

“If you are a part of the Dregs, you will help when asked, but the rest of your time is yours. Look for your sister, gamble your money away, take up baking, — I don’t care. You’ll be free.”

The offer was good. Great, actually. So why was she hesitating? Was Pekka’s manipulation really enough to make her turn away an opportunity like this? I don’t know.

And what about Kaz? Could she really trust him? The man wanted her for her powers, too. How was he different from Pekka? In her limited experience, he wasn’t. I should stay.

But Jesper. In the short while she had known him, Jesper had become her favorite part of being alive. And Inej, who was the kindest soul she had ever encountered. If they were with Kaz, he couldn’t be the demon he tried to be. At least not like Pekka. I should go. I should have gone a long time ago.

“Deal.”

In the weeks following, Kaz came every day to discuss every aspect of the Emerald Palace with her, in the hopes that he could get her out. Getting her out of the building would be simple, but keeping her from being hunted by the Dime Lions for the rest of her days would be complicated. The plan would have to be completely airtight, so Kaz needed time.

A few days later, Jesper was at the window speaking with her. The other members of the dregs would often visit along with Kaz and stay to talk to her, or they might come in his place. Today, after describing her entire tailoring process to Kaz, Y/N was speaking to Jesper about music.

“It’s like this huge golden machine made by Fabrikators, right?” Y/N smiled as she excitedly spoke. “And you take this small disc, place it on the machine and put the needle on it, and then music comes out!”

Jesper grinned at her. He loved the way she looked when she was excited about something. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one before.”

“Well, it’s wonderful,” she sighed, “Not to mention there’s thousands of the disc things, and each one is a different song. I wish more people had them than just the rich men who can afford it. I mean I wish I could have one.”

The two had been known to discuss things that had nothing to do with her escape, which Kaz had scolded them for plenty of times. But they enjoyed talking to each other, and they often got distracted. Odd topics of discussion were bound to happen whether they liked it or not. However, when Jesper realized that they had strayed from their original reason for speaking, he redirected the conversation.

“So, you get tailored nearly everyday?”

“Well, whenever anyone comes to see me. Only Pekka knows what I really look like. And you and your friends. Maybe it's a security thing.” She told him, thinking as she spoke. “Also, if anyone sees me who isn’t supposed to, I’m meant to drug them so they forget. Pekka really just does not want anyone knowing I’m here. Some bastard might try to steal me away.”

Jesper smirked at her. “I cannot imagine who would ever do something like that.”

Visits were going relatively well. Kaz had nearly enough information to finalize his plan for her escape, so he visited less and less. Y/N was becoming a solid member of the Crows even though she had so little time with them. She matched Jesper’s humor, built trust with Inej, and had a shared anger for Pekka with Kaz.

Today was Inej’s day to go visit Y/N, and she was running rather late. She knew the girl had mentioned not to visit after the sun went down, but Inej had been busy all day and could only find time to make it to the window after dark. When she got there, however, she realized why Y/N had made the warning.

When she looked through the window, she noticed that Y/N was not alone. When she looked closer, she realized Y/N was with Pekka Rollins. Luckily, Inej was the Wraith, she could watch what happened next without being seen.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to eat your dinner,” She heard Rollins speak first, in the most condescending tone she had ever heard. “Not after I worked so hard to get your favorite.”

Y/N sat on her cot, avoiding eye contact. “Not hungry.”

Rollins grabbed her by the jaw roughly, forcing her to look at him. Inej noticed tears shining in Y/N’s eyes. “Not hungry, hm? We both know that’s not true.” He laughed, with a terrifying lack of humor behind it. “Why are you lying to me, canary?”

The girl shook her head as the tears fell down her face.

“Your tears will do you no good.” Rollins snarled. “Do not forget what you are.” He paused, raising a brow. “What are you?”

The girl sniffled and didn’t respond.

“What are you?” He shouted and raised his voice this time, causing her to shake.

“A canary.” She whispered out.

“Good, and if I give you a song...”

He raised her chin higher, prompting her to finish his words. “I sing it.” The words fell from her lips like something rehearsed, but unbearably painful.

He gave a tight lipped smile. “Right. Don’t forget it again.” He sat down next to her and handed her the plate she had sat on the table beside her. “Now you eat and I’ll tell you about the man who is coming here tonight.”

Inej felt like she was going to throw up as she travelled the rooftops of Ketterdam back to the Crow Club. She knew Y/N was being mistreated at the Emerald Palace, but seeing it take place was something entirely apart.

As she walked in the doors of the club she felt a presence beside her. She looked over to see Jesper walking with her. He must have been guarding the door. He was waiting to ask a question.

“Yes, Jesper, I went to see her.” Inej spoke to him, her voice rough.

“And?”

“And Pekka Rollins was there.”

Jesper stopped in his tracks. “Saints, is she ok? Are you?”

“I’m fine,” Inej assured, “But I’m not sure about Y/N. He is anything but gentle with her. And he forced her to eat the dinner he gave her. I don’t think she’s gonna be able to avoid the drugs they give her anymore. If only she could remember to take an antidote before her mind goes.”

“Shit, we need to get her out of there, soon.”

The pair once again went to Kaz to discuss the girl, only to find him at his desk, writing furiously with two bottles in front of him.

“Kaz, Inej -“ Jesper was cut off.

“She told me how she’s been killing all those people.” Kaz stared at the bottle in front of him, observing it scientifically.

Inej and Jesper looked at each other before looking back at their boss. What was he on about?

“I don’t understand.” Inej had a confused look on her face as she tried her best to make eye contact with Kaz. She wanted to try and read him like she knew she could, but right now the man in front of her was like a blank page.

“Y/N. She gives them a liquid of her own design, but it isn’t poisonous,” He kept his eyes trained on his work, “At least not until she makes it poisonous. She can give someone poison hours in advance but it kills them right at the perfect moment. Right when she can get away. And, once they are dead, she can change it back to something nontoxic. It’s flawless: not a single trace is left.”

“Great, boss,” Jesper said, growing impatient. “Can we talk about why we are here?”

Kaz frowned, “What, because you want to get Y/N out sooner? She’s in a terrible situation?”

“Exactly,” Inej pleaded.

“If I tried to save everyone in the Barrel I’d be broke by dawn.” Kaz said, looking back at his work. Inej and Jesper stood there in shock. “If you don’t have anything else to say…”

Inej placed a hand up to keep Jesper from exploding. “Kaz, you told us that you would help her escape.”

“I needed information, Wraith, you wouldn’t help me if I told the truth.”

Jesper spoke up, “So you lied to us? And what did you tell her?”

“Nothing. She’s prepared to leave the Emerald Palace tonight.” Kaz tsked. “I doubt she’ll make it two feet out the building without our help. Solves all of my problems.”

Without another word, Inej slipped out of the room, leaving the boys to fight. Through the walls, she heard muffled shouting.

“How could you? You act like you have nothing you believe in but really you are so terrible that you’ve made yourself your own Saint!” Jespers voice was desperate, filled with rage. The betrayal he felt was clear even though he was muffled. He sniffed. “Put too much faith in that saint and he’ll kill your friends.”

Inej cringed, hating the harsh truths her friend was sending toward her boss. She had always known partnership with Kaz would mean conflict, but it also meant freedom. She and Jesper often commented on their cold-hearted boss. “We are both too good for him.” Jesper would laugh as he said it, but now it seemed to be a reason to leave. But where would they go? When it came to Kaz Brekker, no one was better, and no one was worse.

One thing was for certain, Inej was not going to let her friend die. She had just pulled Y/N up from the grave, and she’d be damned if she let Kaz Brekker push her back in. If he was so certain the girl would be dead by tomorrow, she’d get to her before then. She didn’t have time for Kaz’s lectures and Jesper’s shouting. There was a life at stake. She begged the Saints to help her, but deep down she knew that this was up to her and her knives. If Inej couldn’t save Y/N, the Wraith would.

When she reached the Emerald Palace, a nauseous feeling spread throughout her stomach. She willed her hands to stop shaking, but the tremor remained. She reached the window after carefully checking her surroundings and gasped at what she saw. Nothing remained in Y/N’s room but a white letter and dark ash, both standing out against the gray stone floor. Inej frowned in confusion. So, she is gone. Where could she be?

Y/N was a smart girl, she could be out of Ketterdam by now. However, she had barely had any human contact and had been drugged and manipulated for years. If she was not already found by Pekka Rollins, she could have already been killed on the street. But no one knew who she was, and only Pekka and the Crows knew what she truly looked like. She had become one huge question.

Suddenly, Inej remembered something.. Specifically, a conversation she had with Y/N not long ago.

Inej, this might be the worst thing I’ve ever made. She had said, a fire in her eyes.

Then why are you smiling? Inej replied.

Look! Y/N had pulled a thin glass bottle of a swirling liquid and a small flower out from behind her back. She then poured a drop of the bottle on the flower, which disintegrated into a pile of ash within seconds.

Saints. Inej was amazed.

Wild, huh? Footsteps came from the stairwell in the corner of the room. Shit. Inej, go. Inej hesitated. Go! He’ll see you!

Now, looking at the large pile of ash on the floor of the room, Inej realized what had happened.

“Saints,” She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “She’s drunk it.”

She heard footsteps approaching in the alley, and immediately grabbed two of her knives, ready to protect herself.

“Easy,” Jesper appeared, holding his hands out toward her. “It’s just me.”

Inej lowered her knives as she stared back at him. “We’re too late, Jes. She’s gone.”

He laughed, nervous. “No, she wouldn’t.” He lowered himself down to the window. “No.”

Inej stood up and looked up at the stars, praying to any Saint that she could think of that she wasn’t dead. That her friend was out there somewhere. Alive. “Jesper, we need to get out of here.”

“But,” Jesper paused, his voice weak. “She was just here.”

“She’s not anymore.” Inej looked at him with pity. She could tell how much the girl had meant to him. “I’m sorry.”

“She was just here.” He repeated, voice cracks littering his words.

Inej grabbed his hand, forcing him out of this frozen state. “I know, Jes. I’m sorry.”

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey fanfic #jesper fahey imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #jesper fahey x you

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teacupfulofstarshine · 3 years

Text

LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP CHAPTER 10

PLEASE HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS!!! this chapter features Evil Scientist Lady and her Fucked Up WorldView a LOT, and there are also some Major Plot Events that involve Violence. i will put a summary in the end notes if you decide at any point that this particular chapter is too much - that's super valid! i will also mention here that no main characters are going to die in this story and no one dies in this chapter either.

huge huge thanks to @flamingfawkes for beta’ing!

CW: extreme disregard for human life, mentioned human and animal cruelty, toxic workplace environment, violence (both imagined and actual, mildly graphic), gun mention, minor blood, death threats, extremely unethical character, unethical science, stalking

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 // chapter 8 // chapter 9 // read it on ao3!

“This is the same result we’ve gotten the last twenty times -”

“I don’t care, Steven, run it again!”

Steven sighs, punching at the keyboard to run the statistical analysis sequence again. “This is ridiculous! I’ve run this sequence so many times it feels like my eyes are going to bleed. Why can’t we just turn in the results we have and -”

“Because she’ll behead us,” James snaps, “and then she’ll destroy our reputations and our families and they’ll get no severance. I have three young children at home, Steven, I need this money.” Steven softens a little, fingers running smoothly over the keys as he combs the data again. Next to him, James has a computer screen full of frame-by-frame stills of what little data they recovered from the probe before it was destroyed; Penny across the room is surrounded by ancient texts a mile high and at least three laptops.

“Why is she so interested in this, anyway?”

“It’s beyond me. Since when do we question the whims of what we’re told to do?”

Steven squints at the screen, pushing his chair back and rubbing at his eyes. “If I have to stare at these numbers for one more second, my brain is going to explode. I feel like my eyeballs are going to melt out of my skull. I wanna scream.”

James pulls up another image, staring at the blurry image of the merman before him. Steven pushes away from his own screen and squints at James’s. The merman in the photo looks young, not much older than his kid brother, but they don’t know anything about the lifespan of these creatures. He looks confused, squinting at the camera. As James flicks through the stills, the merman transitions from confused to angry to enraged, and then he attacks.

“He’s not happy about the camera.”

“Would you be happy about someone spying on you and your family?” James says, switching to the next still.

“I wouldn’t be happy if I thought someone was doing anything we do in this lab to me or my family.” James elbows Steven, but luckily no one else seems to have heard.

“This lab isn’t the most ethical place I’ve ever worked, but it pays the bills,” James mutters. “And we’re not even in the experimentation lab. We just do data analysis. We’re removed from the situation.”

Are we? Steven wonders. He sees James reach out and touch the framed picture of his daughters, and keeps his mouth shut. He turns back to his computer, watching the little spinning color wheel of his mouse as the program calculates the same numbers again and again. The results come up identical to the previous ones, and Steven clicks “Run Program” again wordlessly.

They work in silence for a while, the three of them, broken only by James’s muttering and the occasional thud of one of Penny’s books and the clicks of keyboards and mice. If they weren’t so reliant on technology, Steven thinks, there would be an enormous corkboard spanning three of the four walls, covered in pushpins and handwriting and red string connecting images. He debates actually building one, if only to increase the levity in the room, but decides against it.

He’s seen people punished or fired or who-knows-what-else for far less, after all.

Instead, after his program tells him for the twenty-third time that his results are the same (and didn’t someone say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?), Steven scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms and opens the data entry window. Maybe the problem with the results has to do with the entry of the data; did he input something wrong? It’s possible . . .

Here he goes again, he supposes. He stands up, stretches, and leans back to crack some vertebrae. “I’m gonna grab a coffee, take a short screen break, and go back to the beginning. Maybe there’s something in the input that I missed. You want anything?”

James groans, thunking his head against the desk. “I want something with enough caffeine to kill three elephants, please.” Steven nods, looking over at Penny. She shakes her head, and he heads for the shitty coffee machine a few doors down.

Several floors below, a young woman pulls her lab goggles up to rest on top of her head with her perfectly-pinned protocol-compliant bun. “The latest round of tests is completely done, ma’am. I think you’ll find the efficacy . . . striking.”

She takes the clipboard, glossy perfectly-painted nails pinching the sheets of thin paper and flicking between them. “I’m afraid I don’t do so well with the scientific side of things - Kathleen, was it? Explain this to me, would you?”

“Certainly, ma’am. As you know, the kill time for the most effective neurotoxin currently available, tetrodotoxin, varies from thirty minutes to four hours. Average time for symptoms to manifest is seventeen minutes, and from there the symptoms progress through tingling of the lips and tongue, headache, vomiting, muscle weakness, ataxia, et cetera. Death occurs as a result of respiratory or heart failure, and the poison is nearly undetectable if you do not specifically test for it.”

“The untraceability is a plus, but that is far too wide a range of times, and too slow a time even at its fastest.”

“Of course, ma’am, but as far as naturally-occurring marine poisons go - actually, as far as naturally-occurring poisons go, full stop - it is the most effective. Until now, that is.”

“Oh? What are your findings?”

“Which trials would you like to start with, ma’am?”

“The human trials, Kathleen. The only ones that matter. I hardly intend to go around killing mice and hoping that no one traces their deaths to a novel neurotoxin.” She laughs airily, and Kathleen nods along.

“Certainly, ma’am. The most recent data points indicate an average efficacy time of thirteen minutes for our compound neurotoxin, with a full range between nine and seventeen minutes passing before subject death. Subjects began to show symptoms around five minutes, give or take twenty-five seconds.”

“And those symptoms were?”

Kathleen flips through the document. “Seizures, vital organ failure, blindness, painful muscle spasms, suffocation from the inside out.”

She hums, tapping a manicured finger against the report. “Well, Kathleen, that is certainly impressive, especially for a preliminary human subject trial. These results . . . I must say, they are not nearly as disappointing as I anticipated when I came down here.”

“Ma’am?”

“How long have you worked for this company, Kathleen?”

“Almost five years, ma’am, but I’ve always been an assistant. This is my first time as lead researcher and biochemist on a project, ever since you . . . laid off the previous lead researcher.”

“Kathleen, let me be frank. These results are not what I hoped for. The efficacy time and symptom onset times are both far too long for my liking, and the range of efficacy time is too broad. By all accounts, I should consider this a failure.” Kathleen swallows, but remains poised. “However, you’ve managed to shave off a considerable amount of time from the tetrodotoxin readings. The range of symptom onset time is an acceptable breadth, and your results are far beyond anything your predecessor ever accomplished for me. This is truly impressive, all things considered.”

“Thank you, ma’am. How should I proceed?”

“I want the efficacy doubled - tripled - I want it upped by anywhere between four and five hundred percent. I want the pain increased, too. Feel free to increase your requests for test subjects, but get me the results I want. You said the original tetrodotoxin was untraceable?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

“Can you keep that feature intact?”

“As of right now, it is intact, ma’am. I will endeavor to keep it so in future experiments.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Welcome to your new position as head of this research division. Don’t let me down.” She holds out a slender hand, and Kathleen takes it, trying not to seem too eager.

“I won’t, ma’am.”

“How soon can you start this experiment up again?”

“The cleaners should be finished by tomorrow morning, ma’am, and I can tweak chemical formulas until then.”

“Excellent.” Her watch beeps, and she lifts it, pursing her bright lips as she examines the message she’s just received. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another matter to attend to. Someone will drop off your master access key for Lab Three within the hour.”

She steps into the elevator and lifts her watch up to her face, swiping through the messages from her secretary. One finger reaches out to press the button for the digital analysis labs floor, and the other taps away at her watch.

When she steps off the elevator, her secretary is waiting. “Ma’am.”

“What do they have for me?”

“Unclear. They said it was something they wanted to report directly to you and you alone, but it seems to be something big.”

“Hopefully it’s a big step in the right direction, or they’ll be taking a big step out of a job.” She relishes in the way the employees she passes all unfailingly flinch and then snap to perfect attention when they hear the sharp echo of her heels against the floor. She lifts her head and walks faster, striking the tiles with her heels like a gavel, sharp and precise against a judge’s desk.

The computer labs are disorganized when she enters, but there is a string of promising-looking numbers on the main display monitor. There is a woman surrounded by books and a man pulling up photos on his computer, and there is a third man standing in front of her like a toy soldier. She focuses on that one.

“I hear you have news for me? Make it swift, and make it good.”

He swallows, hard, and her eyes idly trace the line of his throat. If he disappoints her, perhaps she will drive her heel through it, to make an example of him. That would be far too messy; perhaps his dominant hand will do.

“I have narrowed down the location of the missing net, ma’am. I believe it to have washed up somewhere around these general GPS coordinates.” He fiddles with a remote in his hand, and the image on the screen changes. It shows an aerial satellite view of a secluded strip of beach, framed by rocky cliffs with larger rocks studded out into the open water. “It should have washed up somewhere in this one-point-three-seven-mile strip of beach. The whole area is property of one Doctor Thomas Sanders.”

She snarls. “That man. He won’t let us on that beach willingly until hell freezes over.”

The other man, the one scanning through photo stills and video footage, jumps up, knocking his chair backwards. “I found something!”

She turns towards him, and his excitement freezes and sputters into something much more controlled and terrified. “Show me.” He clicks something and pulls up video footage from one of their surveillance drones, zooming in on a particular patch of ocean along the stretch of Sanders’ beach. Her eyes widen when she sees what he’d noticed - a hump of red-and-white tail arcing above the waves before a pattern of ripples streaks off towards the cliff. He pauses the footage, rewinds it, uses a laser pointer to show an opening concealed in the cliff face.

“There’s some kind of grotto in there, hidden by the cliff. It’s on Sanders’ property, he has to know it’s there. And it looks like the merman from the destroyed drone knows it’s there too. Which means -”

“That must be where he’s keeping them.” Something burns in her chest, brilliant and terrifying and all-encapsulating, like wildfire. “We’ve found them, at long last.”

“What would you have me do?” her secretary asks. “I can arrange for a recovery squad at your earliest possible convenience, ma’am.”

“Assemble the squad, but do not have them move out. They will wait for my orders. When they go, you are to go with them.” Her secretary nods, once, sharp and sure. “Dispatch a crew to Lab One and clear it out. I want it prepped for containment, vivisection, chemical tests - the works. Get at least three tanks set up and one strap-down human table.”

“A human table, ma’am?”

“Yes. We have to deal with Sanders once and for all to ensure that he does not ruin any future experiments.”

“Will we be taking him as well?”

She hums thoughtfully. “No. Pull up the file we have on his known associate?”

A few swift clicks and flicks and a photo appears on the large screen: a young man with brown-and-purple hair, sleeves rolled up, carefully lowering a perfectly viable specimen into the ocean and letting it go, like some kind of fool. “His doctoral student, ma’am. The longest one he’s ever kept - this one has been with him a few years.”

“Excellent. When you raid the lab, take him.”

“Should we kill Sanders?”

“No. Rough him up a little, but leave him alive. Taking his protégé and leaving him alone, helpless to rescue him, will be the highest form of torture for such an insufferable person. The agony will eat him alive until his dying day.”

Her secretary nods, taking the notes down dutifully. The other employees look vaguely horrified, but she pays them no mind. No sacrifice is too great to be made in the name of progress, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a weakling who will never get anywhere in life.

She refuses to be one of those weaklings.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan wakes up confused.

He’s warm, warmer than he thinks he’s ever been in his whole life. When he stirs, he moves farther than he meant to - he must not be underwater. That’s enough to send a jolt of concern through his sleep-addled brain. Why isn’t he underwater? Why was he sleeping if he was above the surface? There’s no way his dad is here, and Roman hates surfacing, where are they? Where is he? But he’s so comfortable . . .

Someone shifts beside him, an arm draping across his waist, and Logan forces his eyes open. He shifts his lower half, confused when two things move instead of one, and there are layers upon layers of thin, flat, soft things wrapping around him. What is happening?

Slowly, slowly, his mind clears, and he remembers the events of last night. He grew legs - he was a human, once, before he was mer - he couldn’t sleep underwater with Dad and Roman - Virgil was teaching him to walk - Virgil put “clothes” on him - Virgil was embarrassed that he didn’t have those “clothes” on him - Virgil took him out of the lab to sleep - Virgil agreed to cuddle him since his pod couldn’t -

Logan feels the strange burning in his face again as he shifts. He can’t see well in this new human form, but when things are close enough to his face they’re relatively clear. And Virgil, still sleeping, is close enough that Logan can smell him - he smells like salt water mixed with something sharp and something sweet and something else that Logan can’t quite identify but finds addicting nonetheless. Sunlight streams in and pools around Virgil’s face, illuminating the tangled mess of hair spread around him and flopping into his face, the small puddle of water leaking out from his open mouth onto the soft thing he’s resting his head on, the way his chest moves slowly with every breath. His arm is wrapped around Logan, pulling him close. Logan thinks he might explode if he focuses on this any more, so he rolls from his side to his back as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake Virgil. Virgil tightens his arm around Logan and mutters something indecipherable in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake.

Rather than focusing on his very confusing feelings for the very pretty man next to him, Logan focuses on what he can see of the room around him. He makes a list in his mind of things that he plans to ask Virgil about later today, including:

1: There are many draws attached to the small, smooth cliffs surrounding them. How do they stay there?

2: There are lots of “clothes” scattered all around the floor, and there were several on the bed, too. Is that normal for humans?

3: Last night, Virgil did something that made the room light up with trapped sunlight! How did he do that?

4: How did Virgil get ice to stay in those big frozen sheets in such a warm place to let the sunlight in?

5: How did Virgil make ice into that weird shape that he filled with water and drank last night?

6: How did Virgil get the water to come into this place?

7: Do all humans have a specific area set aside for sleeping? Logan and his pod usually just sleep wherever they can, but Virgil seems to have this soft slab set aside with all of these soft things to be comfortable and sleep in every night. Is this a Human Thing or strictly a Virgil Thing?

Logan looks out through the sheet of ice that protects Virgil’s area from the outside and gasps. He can’t see well, but there’s a glittering expanse of blue that shifts and moves and oh, is that the ocean?

He’s spent his whole life (well, his whole remembered life, anyways) in the ocean, and he’s seen some truly wondrous things. He travels around the world with his pod, he knows the ocean is big, but seeing it spread out like this is . . . awe-inspiring. Logan has never seen the ocean like this, and now that he has he doesn’t think he can ever not see it like this again. It’s like a perfect sheet of sea-glass, rippling and unbroken but dynamic in a way that he never really gets a sense of when he’s beneath it.

He knows that there are waves, of course. There are smaller swells out on the open ocean, and larger ones when the Second Goddess dips her fingers down from the Upper Ocean and swirls the storms to a thundering burst. There are waves along the shoreline, ones that he frolics in with Roman and batter him against the shoreline. There are waves created when he or his pod members surface. But watching the movement of the ocean from up here is . . .

Even with his imperfect vision, he is completely at a loss for words as he stares at the ocean.

Eventually, Virgil stirs next to him, and Logan turns away from the ocean to stare at him. Virgil is close to him, arms wrapped tightly around him, face pressed against him. Logan’s eyesight is not great, but Virgil is close enough that he can pick out little details of his face. There are brown face scales scattered all over him, but they seem to cluster on his nose and his cheeks. Logan has wanted to touch them for a substantial amount of time, and he can’t stop himself from gently settling the tips of his fingers over Virgil’s cheek.

His face doesn’t feel like Logan was expecting. The scales don’t give texture to his face the way that Logan’s do; the skin is smooth and flat. There are little bumps all over, but the brown scales aren’t raised off the skin like Logan expected. He lets his fingers trail along Virgil’s face. His bone structure seems to be exceedingly similar to Logan’s, at least in regards to his head. Logan’s finger rests gently on the curve of bone under Virgil’s eye, and Virgil exhales warm breath onto his palm.

Logan wonders what it would be like to have this for longer than just his recovery period. He wonders what it would be like to wake up next to Virgil all the time, to get to run his hands over Virgil’s face and arms and chest and examine the differences between their anatomy. He wonders what it would be like to learn to walk without falling over, and he feels a sharp, unexpected twinge in his chest as he realizes that getting better at walking means no more closeness to Virgil.

His chest feels strange, like there’s a school of small fish swarming around and tickling his insides and making him feel all foamy, like the froth churned up by a windswept sea. He feels like he does when he’s underwater - free, weightless, mobile, limited by nothing except his own imagination. He feels unstoppable.

Virgil makes a sudden, sharp inhale, blinking his eyes open slowly. Logan thinks that, perhaps, he might not appreciate being studied unknowingly - he hadn’t appreciated Virgil doing it, before he understood what was happening, when all he knew was the loss of his pod aching like a scraped-out seashell. As Virgil wakes up, Logan shifts, turning his gaze to the rest of the room.

Virgil makes a sleepy grumbling noise, opening one eye. Logan chances another quick glance at him, and when his eye slides open Logan is struck by its beauty. He doesn’t get much of a chance to admire it, however, before Virgil is jolting backwards like Logan’s struck him with lightning. Logan is confused, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder. “Virgil?”

“Wassat?! Wait . . . L’gan?”

“It is me,” Logan says softly. “Are - are you upset with me?”

Virgil yawns, jaw dropping to his chest, revealing a flash of teeth and a soft pink tongue. (Logan wants to lick it. Why does Logan want to lick it? Why is Logan thinking about Virgil’s tongue licking his tongue - why is Logan thinking about Virgil - what in the Seven Oceans is happening to him.) “Wh - no, no, ‘m okay, I just - woke up, forgot I had you with me, got confused about another person in my bed.” Before Logan can start to feel bad, Virgil adds, “S’okay if it’s you, though,” and the foamy, floaty feeling is back.

“Did you sleep well?”

Virgil laughs, low and rumbling, and Logan can feel it in his fingers where he touches Virgil’s skin. “I never sleep well.” He sits up, and the fabric of his pajamas shifts to let Logan see stretches of soft, supple skin that he usually doesn’t. Logan wants to touch it. He very determinedly keeps his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Gotta admit, though, last night was . . . better than usual.”

This appears to be the point where Virgil first notices their position - pressed together, arm slung over Logan, basically cuddling the way that Logan normally would with his pod. (No tangle with his pod has ever felt this . . . electric, this charged, this important to Logan before.) His face flares a brilliant red, and he shifts like he wants to move away but -

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Logan blurts out. Virgil blinks at him a little, and maybe he was a little overly enthusiastic, but - “I sleep in a tangle with Dad and Roman all the time. I have extreme difficulty sleeping without contact with someone else. It . . . helped me greatly.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, face turning redder still, smiling shyly. “That - makes me feel better. Thanks, Lo.”

Logan smiles, and Virgil smiles too, reaching up to gently move a piece of hair away from his face. Logan thinks that, as far as deaths go, his chest exploding (which seems to be getting more and more likely every fifteen seconds he spends in Virgil’s presence, only accelerated by all this skin-on-skin contact they’re having right now) seems to be the most pleasurable.

Virgil opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was is interrupted by a Ping! noise from across the room. “What is that?” Logan asks. Virgil, sadly, untangles himself from Logan and the blankets, sliding out of bed and heading over to one of the other structures in the room (what did he call it last night? Dex?) and picking up a flat glowing rectangle.

“Is everything alright?”

“What? Yeah, yeah, I - Thomas sent me a text, it’s a little weird.”

“What is a text?”

“It’s a kind of human messaging system, it allows us to communicate when we’re far away from each other.”

“Like a pod call?” “Kind of? I’ll explain more later, I promise, I just - I gotta go down to the lab real quick.”

“I’ll come with -”

“No!” Virgil snaps. Logan flinches, and Virgil softens, crossing the room and gently touching his shoulder. “Hey, no, Logan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just - this message, there’s something off. I think something might be wrong, and I don’t want to put you in any unnecessary danger. Just - wait here, okay? Wait in my room, where it’s safe. It’s probably nothing, he’s probably fine, but on the off chance that he’s not, I want you to stay hidden safely up here.”

Logan isn’t sure why this makes his face heat up slightly, but it does. “Okay. I accept your apology, and I . . . trust you.”

Virgil smiles, soft and heartwarming, and Logan is beginning to give more credence to his “chest explosion is fine, actually” theory. “Wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He leaves, shutting the door firmly behind him, and the foamy feeling in Logan’s chest dissipates a little. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s something . . . off. If Logan didn’t know better, he’d think that he was sensing a predator approaching.

But that can’t be right, he isn’t underwater. His danger senses are likely just overreacting to his disappointment at Virgil’s absence.

. . . Right?

*~*~*~*~*

Thomas is beginning to regret letting Roman and Patton (specifically, Roman) out of the large tank before finishing his first coffee of the morning.

“I want some!” Roman complains.

“Do you even know what it is?” Thomas says. Roman pouts sulkily at him.

“. . . No,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Thomas gives him the deadpan, no-nonsense, I-am-your-direct-superior-take-the-damn-samples-Virgil stare that he has perfected over the past few years. Roman wilts a little more, and Thomas feels slightly bad.

“It’s called coffee,” he says. “It’s a hot drink that lots of people have in the morning. Some people drink it plain, and some people add things to it to change the way it tastes. It helps me wake up more and get focused to start my day, and sometimes I drink it late at night to help keep me awake.”

Roman looks less like a kicked puppy and more like Logan, eyes wide and curious. “I want some!”

Thomas, taking a sip of his own two-seconds-of-cream-five-cubes-of-sugar coffee, nearly spits it out. He looks at Roman, eyes the very sharp, very detachable, very toxic spines covering his body, and says, “No.”

Roman’s demeanor changes entirely, switching from “curious toddler” to “toddler about to throw a temper tantrum” in a heartbeat. “Why not?!”

“Because when people drink coffee without being used to it, sometimes it makes them a little crazy.”

“I’m not crazy!”

“Do I need to recount to you how many times you’ve threatened me and my assistant since we met you?” Thomas says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not giving you coffee until I know I can trust you not to stab me with your poisonous spines that cover your entire body and can be fired at people.”

Roman pouts more, dropping under the water and letting out a gratingly harmonious string of mer that Thomas is pretty sure translates to Roman bitching about the coffee situation to his dad. Based on the pattern of Patton’s response, he’s pretty sure Patton is laughing at Roman.

More sulky chalkboard-violin music, and then Roman resurfaces grumpily. “Dad agrees with you and says no consuming strange human foods.”

“Did he laugh at you?”

Roman squints suspiciously at him. “You can’t speak our language.”

“Yeah, but I know what it sounds like when a dad laughs at his kid.” Roman, continuing to pout, sinks back into the tank, presumably to sulk some more. Thomas takes another very long sip of coffee that is definitely too hot for his mouth and turns back to his desk.

Virgil should definitely be awake and in the lab at this point. The samples he’s supposed to be analyzing are sitting in their little tubes, each neatly labelled with locations and dates and times and what, specifically, Virgil is supposed to be looking for. Thomas considers going upstairs and waking up Virgil, who’s almost never been late for work in this way, but he decides against it. Virgil is upstairs with Logan, and Thomas knows that there’s something building between them. He’s not sure how advisable that something is, but he trusts Virgil to make his own decisions.

Besides, he could probably use some practice. His water sample analysis skills are pretty rusty, he’s had Virgil doing them for years. “Virgil, you owe me big time for what I’m doing for you.” He carefully shifts the samples over to his own desk, slides his earbuds in, picks up a pipette, and gets to work analyzing the bacterial and algal concentrations for any abnormalities.

Thomas accomplishes about forty-five minutes’ worth of work before Roman interrupts him by flicking water at him and soaking the back of his neck. “Hey!”

“I tried your name, but your little ear bug things were keeping you from hearing me,” Roman says smugly. Thomas, not for the first time, considers retreating to the closet and throwing beakers until he feels better.

“Can I help you?”

“Dad wants to go hunting and bring back breakfast, but we can’t leave without you.”

“Are you not going hunting?”

“I’m going to stay here and observe you,” Roman says.

Thomas blinks. “Do I . . . need observing?”

“How do I know you won’t sell us out to your little human friends the second you get a chance? If I’m here, I can stop you. Plus, what if you do something to Logan while we’re not here to protect him? No, no, I’m staying right where I am and you can’t make me leave.” His spines ripple; Thomas steps closer to a whiteboard in case he needs to duck.

“I’m not going to do that, and I don’t want you to stab me.”

“Still! I’m staying here! Also, Dad’s bigger than me, and he’s a better hunter cause he’s faster and he’s been hunting longer.

“Does he need something to help him carry all those fish?” Thomas asks. Roman opens his mouth like he’s going to say something snarky, pauses, and stops.

“I . . . usually we just eat what we catch when we catch it. We make a pile of prey and take turns guarding it while the other two hunt. Then we make a sacrifice to the Seven Mother Goddesses and eat what’s left.”

After some debate, Thomas is able to fashion a sling of sorts from some waterproof tarps and leftover anchor rope to tie around Patton’s body. “You can put the fish in this pouch and carry them back here. Will you be able to navigate your way back to the grotto?”

“He will,” Roman says. “Dad knows more about the ocean than any human possibly could.” Another discordant song from the tank, chastising, and Roman huffs. “Dad wants me to reassure you that he’ll be fine.”

Patton settles into the mobile tank easily, and Thomas gets him down to the grotto leading towards the sea. “When you come back, let out one of your pod calls and Virgil or I will come and collect you and your catch. Take as much time as you need, okay?”

Patton reaches up and gently pats Thomas’s arm with one large, damp hand, and Thomas takes that to mean an agreement. “Alright, off you go.” There’s a whoosh and a rush of water as it flows from the tank into the grotto in a clean arc, carrying Patton with it. Thomas waits for a moment, letting Patton disappear into the open ocean, before returning to the laboratory.

Roman, for the most part, ignores Thomas. He asks the occasional question, which Thomas tries to answer in a way that he’ll understand, and leans over the edge of his touch tank, eyes guarded. Every time Thomas sneaks a glance, when he thinks Roman isn’t looking, his expression is wide-eyed and wondrous, like Logan’s usually are, but the moment he realizes Thomas is watching him his entire face closes up like a clamshell.

Thomas wonders what it’ll take to get Roman to trust him, trust Virgil, trust any human. Granted, he doesn’t know Roman’s history with humans, but he and Patton are both fairly scarred, and Thomas might not know the whole story but he’d bet a not-insignificant amount of his monthly income that the giant starburst scar taking up the majority of Patton’s chest isn’t the result of a clash with a marine creature.

He works quietly, fielding the occasional question, keeping one ear on the grotto tunnel for Patton’s return. He’s not sure how long he expected Patton to be gone, but he hears movement in the grotto tunnel far sooner than he’d expected.

“Thomas, what’s -”

“Shhhh,” Thomas says. He stands up, pushing away from his desk, but before he can say anything else, there’s a flood of movement coming from the tunnel. Bodies pour into the lab, swift and strong and carrying weapons that they immediately train on Thomas and Roman.

“What is this?” Roman snaps, bristling. He sounds betrayed, like he thinks Thomas is behind this. Thomas picks up a heavy glass beaker, fully prepared to shatter it upside someone’s skull if necessary, but something heavy and hard strikes the back of his skull and he feels his knees crumple. Roman cries out, and Thomas struggles to push himself up. A hand fists itself in his hair and yanks him upright, sharply. Thomas exhales sharply through his teeth, but before he can start struggling, something cool and round rests against the back of his neck, shutting him up and shutting his brain down.

Roman is puffed up like a hedgehog, apparently fully prepared to defend Thomas despite his strong and inherent mistrust. Before he can begin to attack, Thomas hears the click-click-click of shoes on the hard stone floor. Whoever’s holding his head yanks him back again, and he is forced to watch as a woman walks into his laboratory.

(It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke - a sick, horrible, twisted joke.)

She has black heels, black tights, a black pencil skirt, a black blazer, and a blood-red blouse. Her hair is scraped back into a tight bun, pulled so taut it must hurt, and is held in place with a pitch black stick. She carries a - clipboard? tablet? Unclear - held against her chest, and there’s a sleek silver weapon in her right hand.

“The one from the video?” she asks.

“Affirmative, ma’am,” says the person holding Thomas’s head. The woman nods, lifting her weapon, and fires at Roman. Thomas tries to scream a warning, earning himself another painful yank from his captor, but the projectile lodges itself in Roman’s shoulder anyway.

It isn’t a bullet, but something that looks like a small syringe. Roman swats it out of his shoulder, swaying a little, but it doesn’t stop him from swiping at the - mercenary, they must be - who tries to grab him with his elbow spines. The woman frowns, lifts the weapon - some kind of tranquilizer gun? - and fires again.

Roman screams, inhuman and animal, and tears the newest dart from his arm, throwing himself out of his tank and clinging to the nearest mercenary. His teeth tear into the man’s shoulder, spines piercing through his camouflage clothing and flooding him with neurotoxin. The man collapses against the concrete, alive but unconscious, and Roman snarls at the next man as though daring him to approach. He sways, weakened but awake, and bares his teeth.

“Of course,” the woman says, tapping something on her tablet. “His naturally produced neurotoxin must be providing him with some level of natural resistance. Unexpected, but not a limitation.”

It takes three more tranquilizer darts before Roman finally slumps down into his tank, unconscious. The mercenaries look hesitant to approach him, but the woman reaches for her tablet and they scramble to action at once.

“No - no, stop, let him go, he’s not an animal for you to cart off to your lab -” Thomas starts. The man holding him knees him sharply in the back and he cries out, coughing.

They wrap Roman in thick leather bands, roughly shoving his spines flat and binding them against his skin so that he can’t attack them again. The woman nods, once, short and sharp, and they drag Roman away, letting his head bang mercilessly on the ground. Thomas catches a glimpse of a logo - emblazoned on the back of the jackets, on the back of the woman’s tablet, on the side of her tranquilizer gun - and commits it to memory. He’s going to need it, if he gets out of here alive.

“- your phone,” the woman says, and oh, when did she get in front of him.

“My what?”

His mouth runs dry as she places the tranquilizer gun under his chin, barrel pressing against his throat, and tips his chin up. “I said, give me your phone.”

Thomas blinks. “My - the desk. It’s on the desk.”

She sets her tablet down, picks up his phone, and shoves it in his face. “Open it.”

“I - wh -”

“Unlock your phone, Dr. Sanders. Must I repeat myself a third time?” She rolls her eyes. “Doctorates are wasted on people like you.”

Thomas numbly punches in his passcode, and she swipes through to his messages app, frowning before turning the screen towards his face to reveal a message thread with Virgil. “Is this your assistant?”

Thomas glares at her, he’s not going to give her what she wants, he’s not going to just give her Virgil but then the - gun, it must be a gun, what else would they be holding against his neck like this - pushes into him harder, and it’s probably bruising, and he can’t get himself killed here because then he definitely won’t be able to take care of Virgil and -

“Yes,” Thomas says, hating himself for giving in so easily. “What do you -”

She turns away from him, nails clicking against his phone screen as she sends a text message - to Virgil, presumably, and that makes his heart sink like a stone - before dropping it on the floor and stepping on it to shatter it. “I have a message for you.”

“A - what?”

“Did they really hit you that hard, or were you this stupid before we came here?” she says coldly, picking up the tablet again and tapping at the screen. Thomas groans as the man yanks him to his feet, shoving him onto his chair and pulling a roll of duct tape out of one of his multiple pants pockets. He tapes Thomas’s wrists and ankles to the chair, keeping his weapon trained on Thomas’s temple at all times, before pressing it roughly against his head and gripping his hair again.

The woman sets the tablet on his lab table, and the screen flickers to life, and then there’s a woman in front of a dark black backdrop, smiling at him like a cat who’s caught a canary. “Thomas Sanders. How long I’ve waited for this day.”

Thomas recognizes her. He knows he recognizes her. She used to be his classmate, before . . .

His head hurts, so badly that he can barely keep his eyes open, and the memory slips away. “You . . . why are you doing this?”

“Why? Because I am a real scientist, unlike you. You refuse to do what is necessary, what must be done for the progression of the species. The sacrifice of some worthless animals is necessary for humanity to reach its zenith. You would really hinder the entire human race for the preservation of lower life forms?”

“Wh - I -”

“You think that ‘preserving the ecosystem’ and ‘keeping animals alive’ makes you a good scientist, but it makes you weak. You are weak, Thomas Sanders, and if the world was left in the hands of people like you, the human race as we know it would die out in a few centuries. Fortunately, there are people like me, who understand what must be done.”

“Caring about other people and things - it doesn’t - it doesn’t make you weak,” Thomas says, chest heaving, and the woman just laughs.

“One of many logical fallacies to which you subscribe, Thomas. They really gave you a doctorate? Of course caring makes you weak. All emotions make you weak. They corrupt your data and make your experiments worthless. You must be ruthless. You must be willing to do whatever it takes to pursue your goals and achieve the height of success. But no.” She rolls her eyes, face hardening, twirling a pen in her fingers. “You insist on ethics and principles and letting emotions cloud your judgement, and that makes you a failure as a scientist. It makes you weak. Your attachments will be your downfall.”

Thomas’s eyes slide shut, head pounding, and the man behind him yanks at his hair so sharply that he knows some has been ripped out. He forces his eyes open in time to see a smile slide across the woman’s face like a knife, teeth gleaming white as sun-bleached bone.

“You won’t - get away with this,” Thomas manages. He grinds his teeth together and curls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to keep himself awake. “If you leave me alive -” Thomas, stop talking, why are you reminding her that she has the option to fucking kill you “- I will not rest until I find you. I’ll - you can’t -”

“You’ll what, Thomas? If you call the police, you’ll expose those creatures you’re so intent on protecting to the world. Are you really willing to take that chance?” Before Thomas can even begin formulating a response, she steamrolls him. “It doesn’t matter. Even if you were, I’m going to take some . . . insurance, shall we say.”

“Why not just kill me?” Thomas spits. Excellent idea, Doc, poke the murderous lady with a stick like a god damn hornet’s nest, the tiny Virgil in his brain hisses. Her smile, somehow, only widens, and that’s . . . that can’t be good, can it? Smiles are supposed to be good! They’re supposed to make you happy, but all Thomas feels is creeping dread and pain, so much pain, and -

Yeah. He’s . . . pretty sure he has a concussion.

“Because if I kill you, you get to take the easy way out. Your suffering will end. But unlike you, I don’t put limits on my science. I know how to cause you the maximum amount of pain.”

Thomas eyes the toxin gun, but the on-screen woman just laughs. “Not yet, Thomas. We need something from you, first.”

“You already took Roman,” Thomas says. “What more can you possibly take from me?”

“You named it? You’re even weaker than I thought.”

“He told me his name, he’s not an it, he’s not a thing for you to play with and - and I -”

There’s a strange sinking feeling in Thomas’s chest as the woman onscreen laughs. “I knew you were emotional, Thomas, but I can’t believe this! It looks like I’ll have more hanging over your head than you thought.”

“You -”

“Say, Tommy-boy, have you heard from your precious little assistant recently?”

Thomas’s entire body flushes ice-cold and then white-hot, immediately struggling against his duct tape bindings despite the man tearing at his hair and shoving the gun into his neck and snapping at him to shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up before I do something we’re both gonna regret -

“Don’t you touch him!” Thomas snaps. “If you hurt him, I swear to God -”

“You’re not in a position to be making demands, and if you don’t calm down, I’ll paint your boring little lab bright red.” Thomas freezes, holding his entire body tensed like electricity is running through his blood.

There are footsteps on the stairs. “Doc? I got your text, what’s -”

“Virgil, run!” Thomas chokes. Virgil comes around the corner, holding his phone, staring at the screen in confusion. He looks up, eyes widening in horror as he takes in the scene.

“You know what to do,” the woman onscreen says. The other woman lifts her tranquilizer gun, and Thomas is sure that he’s screaming, his mouth is open and sound is coming out but his blood is rushing through his ears and his heart is pounding like waves against a boat in rough sea and he can’t - he can’t -

Virgil turns to run, but the tranquilizer dart hits in him the back of the neck and he collapses like a sack of bricks. The woman lowers her gun and jerks her head at the two remaining conscious, unoccupied mercenaries, who step forward and grab Virgil.

“Let him go!” Thomas screams, and his throat feels raw and his chest feels raw and his wrists are rubbed raw and his soul feels hollow and raw, like he’s been scraped out with a jagged piece of metal and only an empty shell remains. Virgil’s head lolls against his chest as they drag him down the grotto tunnel, and Thomas struggles and screams and stares after them until Virgil is out of sight.

His face is damp, and his eyes are burning, and he isn’t sure if it’s blood from his head wound or tears or some strange, morbid mixture of both.

“The greatest torture of which I can conceive,” the woman onscreen says, and it takes him a moment to realize that oh, she’s talking to me, “is to leave you alive, knowing that your precious little protégé is with me, and that there is nothing you can do about it.” She leans forward, and any trace of a smile is gone. “If you try to come after me, I will kill him. If you call the authorities, I will kill him. I already found you, Thomas. Don’t think I’m not watching. If I catch so much as a whiff of you planning something, his blood will be on your hands. Do you understand me?”

Thomas, numb and shocked, can’t even respond. “Knock him out and bring the specimens back to me,” the woman onscreen says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t even feel the tranquilizer dart hit his neck, but he welcomes the sweeping darkness.

(Summary: Evil Scientist Lady has been spying on Thomas and she finds the entrance to the grotto where our mer friends have been hiding. She sends her assistant and several armed thugs to invade the lab, they drug Roman with tranquilizers and kidnap him. Thomas gets knocked around a lot and is mocked for being an ethical scientist and caring about people by Evil Scientist Lady and she gloats at him through Evil Facetime before kidnapping Virgil in the same way they did Roman, knocking Thomas unconscious, and leaving him tied to his lab chair. During this whole scene, Patton is out in the open ocean hunting and Logan is safely hidden in Virgil's room.)

#starshinewrites #lovely dark and deep #romantic analogical #sanders sides #platonic TLAMP

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thatweeboverthereisthirsty · 4 years

Note

Hello! Can I request hcs for your top 5 favorite characters when they find out their fem s/o vapes/smokes? Have a nice day~💕

I loved writing these ngl. Also I did six because I have no idea how to choose between these guys.

Characters: Leona, Ruggie, Floyd, Kalim, Idia, Malleus

Warnings: smoking&vaping, overdramatic teenage boys (leona isn’t a teenager, does malleus count?)

Leona:

He didn’t peg you to be that kind of person, but there was no doubt that you were vaping

He had smelled the weed on you a few times but didn’t comment. It was common for there to be clouds of vape in the bathrooms at school so he figured you had just walked through one

At first he wouldn’t comment, but he would watch you do it and keep track of how many times you took a hit and how frequently you pulled your pen out during the day

If he felt like there was nothing serious to worry about then he might let it fly a few times only commenting on how he hated the smell to try and persuade you to do it less often

If he was concerned about the amount of vaping you did, he would probably just steal all your stuff at first to see if you would stop

If that didn’t work then he would confront you about it asking why you started and how long you’ve been doing it

It’s unlikely that he’ll be super upset about it but he will ask you to stop and provide you with other solutions if needed

He prefers the you that isn’t higher than the clouds

After learning more about vaping and the fact that by inhaling toxic metals you could potentially die then he would put up more of a fight

If it got to the point where he was really concerned he might take you to a rehab center just so they could get you to stop (even if you weren’t addicted)

Ruggie:

Wait what?! You smoke!!!

He stares in shock as you pull the cigarette away from your mouth and blow out a large puff of smoke

No no no no no no no no!!!!!!!!!

Already running up to you and snatching the cigarette out of your hands

“Ruggie!”

Absolutely not. He’s seen enough people in the slums turn to smoking or that might even be the reason they were in the slums to begin with.

He knows the cost. He has seen people die, or get violently sick, or run out of money because they smoke

It is not something he’s gonna watch you go through

Probably gonna yell at you about how awful this is for you before finding all your cigarettes and soaking them before chopping them into little pieces and throwing them away

He’s got a great sense of smell so if he smells nicotine on you again he would get really upset

Ruggie cares about you a lot but would still most definitely threaten you to get you to stop

If he threatens to end your relationship to that means he’s certainly worried about your health

He doesn’t care how you started in the first place he justs wants you to stop

Would totally beg Leona to pay for rehab

Would also totally drag you there

Floyd:

Eh? What’s little shrimpy doing?

Has zero clue what a vape is or how it works, but it looks fun let him try it too

You’re probably hesitant cause he doesn’t know what it is and if Azul and Jade found out they might get mad

He’s gonna try it anyways

Literally has no idea how to use it and probably ends up inhaling his own spit instead

He wants to know how you make clouds with your breath though, and oh! You can make it into shapes!

Definitely gonna ask Azul and his big brother about it

They casually explain what vaping is and what it does. They also tell him that it’s bad for you and he shouldn’t try it

“Huh? But little shrimpy does it all the time?”

Que a further explanation and advice on how to help you stop

He’s gonna pest you about it all the time now

“You didn’t swallow any clouds again today did you?”

“No Floyd I didn’t swallow any clouds”

It’s very easy for him to get you to stop since he’ll just squeeze you everytime he catches you doing it

And when he finds your pen he will pick it up and throw it away

Has he seen your vape? Of course not. Why would Floyd know where your cloud machine went?

Every time you get sick he accuses you of vaping too much

“You wouldn’t be stuck in bed all day if you hadn’t swallowed so many clouds, shrimpy.”

Kalim:

Immediate panic

“JAMIL!!!!!”

Literally Jamil does not have time for this

Tells him to calm down and just ask you about it

Ok yeah. Kalim can do that. He’s calm

He’s not calm

Forgets to ask you about it and instead asks if you wanna go for a ride

Legit takes you to a rehab center and cries at the front desk about you for like 40 min

The people ask you a few questions and determine that no you’re not addicted and tell Kalim that everything is gonna be fine

You are literally so confused right now

When you guys get home he can’t stop asking questions and telling you that it’s bad to smoke

Will bribe you to get you to stop

“I’ll buy you whatever you want just don’t do that”

Literally 100x more panicked than any other normal person

“BUT WHAT IF YOU DIE!!!!!!”

Doesn’t want to leave your side in case you do it again when he’s not looking

Jamil is 200% done with the dramatics

“Listen if you don’t stop I’ll actually poison your food. I have a hard enough time dealing with Kalim when he isn’t freaking out.”

Between the two of them it would just be easier to stop

Kalim will throw you a party for stopping

He’s so proud of you

“Baby you make me so proud!”

“Kalim she’s not your daughter *sigh*” - Jamil

“WHAT IF OUR DAUGHTER SMOKES!!!”

Hold up since when did he decide that-

Never mind

Kalim is just a big drama baby and you love him for it

Idia:

Probably doesn’t really know what to think about it

On one hand you’re old enough to make your own decisions

On the other hand your decision making skills are obviously not great

Literally spend the next month trying to decide what to do about it

Makes a pros and cons visual board for confronting you about it

Also writes up a list of reactions to his confrontation

Probably also writes up like 17 different scripts all in a choose your own ending type format to include how to deal with every reaction

Ngl he panics a lot cause he knows that vaping is bad but after finding out you do it he can’t stop watching these really concerning youtube videos about how people’s lives turned into a total complete disaster because of vaping

He becomes a nervous wreck every time you smell like weed

Always has you count to ten when he sees you

Likely has visions of you in the hospital or homeless on the street wheezing about how you wished someone had stopped you

Either you’re gonna catch on and ask him about it, initiating the conversation or he’s gonna have Ortho do it

He’s worried you will leave him for not being supportive

Literally asks you if you’re gonna leave him for this

Obviously you won’t so when you confirm that you’re staying he melts into a puddle and just cries

Highkey he looks more like one of those crazy people from the videos than you

“But Idia you’re addicted to video games and sugar. People say that’s as bad as cocaine”

Figures out that sugar releases the same chemical in your brain as cocaine

“What if you just ate a bunch of candy with me instead? We can be sugar addicts together.” (Idia I’d love to but no amount of candy is worth a break out)

Fine fine fine you’ll stop (but only cause he literally looks like he’s having withdrawals just from worrying about you) it’s ironic

Malleus:

Most dramatic by far

WHY WOULD A FRAGILE HUMAN PURPOSELY PUT THEIR HEALTH AT RISK

Ngl has zero clue what’s going on until Lilia points it out

“Huh doesn’t smoking kill humans?”

*blink* *blink*

Smoking does what to a human

“DARLING!!!!”

Seriously thinks that your going to die any minute now

Que the mental breakdown

Calls all the best healers and puts you on bed rest

“Darling I know we’re gonna get through this. Just keep fighting”

Ummm… you have no idea what’s happening

He just kidnapped you from class and put you in a Diasomnia room and started weeping like you were dying

Lowkey he already started looking at ways to preserve your body as long as possible

Also looks at coffins and tombstones

Highkey plans to buy you a large plot of land that looks over the pretty stuff in the valley of thorns

Why? you ask.

Because obviously you deserve a whole cemetery to yourself

“Malleus I’m not gonna-”

“Shhh don’t speak. You’ll only make it harder to heal”

Lilia walks in and finds this

Probably thinks this is super sweet and totally wants to leave you guys like this

But doesn’t want Malleus to suffer and you to be held on house arrest for no reason

“She’s not dying Malleus”

What? Ooooooohhhh… oops

He gets embarrassed af

Has to call back all the people he hired to prepare for your death

“Um hi there. Turns out I don’t need that jewel encrusted coffin. No no the pyramid should still be built, humans have short life spans.”

“MALLEUS!!!!”

He is so grateful you’re not dying

But would totally get pissed if you decided to smoke again

Guess that’s the end of that

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

I'm Gonna Crawl: Post 2

Post 1

Summary: Five years. That's how long the reader and Bucky have been apart (although for him, it was only five minutes) Now with Thanos defeated and both of them taking up the mantle of Avengers, can their relationship return to what it was? Or will they have to discover a new normal?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! super-soldier! Reader (Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language, smut (IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T READ!!!)

*************************************************

One of the perks of being “enhanced” or in this case, a super soldier, is that you heal quickly. Within seventy-two hours, the bullet wound in his leg (not to mention the cut and black eye he sustained from several sharp blows to the face) and her matching one in the shoulder are almost completely healed, only a vague pink mark to show they were ever injured. The downside is-

“Do you want to punch sandbags until they fly off the hook, or run thirty miles around the compound first? I’ll start with whichever you don’t pick.” -they’re back to training as well.

He almost answers that he really doesn’t want to do either, it’s Sunday morning, for fuck’s sake, but it’s not like this is her first choice for what she could be doing this morning either, so he goes with-

“Punching things first. Think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so I’d best get it out of my system.” She nods and, squeezing his arm, takes off at a jog.

“See you on the other side.”

His instinct is to tell her to take it easy, she lost a lot of blood the other day and who knows if there’s been some bone or muscular damage that hasn’t quite fixed itself yet, but again, he swallows it down and focuses on the task at hand. Namely, taking out his bad mood on a punching bag.

Usually, when his body is in motion, his mind is at least somewhat at rest, but this time around, the exertion is just adding fuel to the flames. He’s too pissed off to just zone out and concentrate on hitting the target, still too busy trying to process what the hell happened three nights ago.

It was their first mission together. She’s been on a few separate from him, and he and Sam get called out together on the regular. Stupidly, he assumed that, since her specialty is translating or gathering intel, maybe being the little voice in someone’s ear to direct them through a maze of assailants and twisting corridors her visions had allowed her a glimpse of ahead of time, she’d be out of the line of fire. At the very least, most of the attention would be on him and Sam. But no, she was the bogey. She drew fire while he waltzed through a military fortress, recapturing stolen tech. When Rhodey so much as mentioned that possibility, he should’ve told him no, hard no. If anyone’s drawing fire, it’s him. Still, in his arrogance, he assumed it wouldn’t come to that extreme. Sam’s good at his job, and as much as he hates the reason behind it, so is he. They should’ve been able to hold the line without her painting a target on her back.

That, of course leads to yet another issue. He’s also pissed at himself for instinctively seeing her as more fragile, something that needs to be protected. Even before the same chemicals running through his veins infected her, she’d proven that she’s a damn capable person. He knows that she’s smart, both strategically and academically. Add onto that the fact that she’s fast and strong, not to mention she has visions (less than helpful ones most of the time, but they have their moments), and she’s a powerful ally. He certainly wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. And yet, when he saw that she’d been hit, his mind completely emptied. He wouldn’t have been able to remember which end of a gun to use if his life depended on it, because all he could think was, “Oh god. She’s hurt.” It’s old-fashioned, outdated. He should be past this mindset, at least when it comes to work. Out there, she’s his fellow soldier, not the woman he lies awake next to in bed, sometimes for hours, just to listen to her breath and know he’s not alone. Did Steve ever put Peggy in that box, he wonders? No, of course not, because Steve’s a better man than he ever was or will ever be. So yeah, he’s pissed off at himself.

And finally, although he can barely admit it to his own mind, he’s pissed off at her. Logically he knows it’s mostly fear, some primal instinct to protect what’s his, but every time he imagines her being shot, having a bullet pass by her lungs and arteries by a very narrow margin, and then telling Sam not to let him know that she was hit, it irks him. Did she think he’d come unhinged? Screw up? Or is she stuck in the mindset she seems to have adopted as a response to the last five years of “Screw looking after myself. It doesn’t matter.” A small part of him realizes that he didn’t call in either when he took a bullet, but that’s him! And, now he’s circling back to guilt for treating her like she’s weak.

All in all, he’s so damn furious that he doesn’t realize he’s no longer alone until she grabs hold of his arm just as he goes to swing again.

“Jesus, Bucky. I know you’re grouchy, but don’t you think destroying five punching bags in thirty minutes is enough? Save some aggression for the run.”

He looks up to tell her something (I’m sorry? Damn right I’m grouchy? Let me take you home and wrap you in blankets so that nothing will ever hurt you again?) and catches sight of her sweat-soaked face. He hates how far she takes things with the running. It’s like she’s trying to see what the limits are, how much she can punish her body before it gives out and she drops. That’s what it was in the very beginning after the snap. She’s told him that. Now he wonders if she’s really as recovered from everything that’s happened as she claims.

“Have you had anything to drink? Water, or-” She groans and reaches to detach the punching bag (there’s a decent sized rip in it where he was hitting it over and over), making her shirt ride up. Her clothes were already so tight that just seeing her out of the corner of his eye was making it hard to think, but now they’re completely adhered to her in a way that’s nearly obscene thanks to all the sweat. Dammit. Think about something else. He needs to think about something else.

“Yes, I’m on my second water bottle, thank you Barnes. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Just self-destructive.” It slips out before he can stuff it down. Her mouth falls open in shock momentarily, but then she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eyes.

“You’re one to talk. Always running straight towards the fire instead of putting it out first.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s your hangup.” She laughs bitterly. “Bucky Barnes, the big, bad Winter Soldier. You’ve decided you’re so fucked up that the only way you can make amends is to run headlong towards whatever’s trying to kill you, without backup I might add, and keep to your mission no matter what your personal damage is.”

“Says the woman who took a bullet and stopped Sam from announcing that you’re hit.” They’re teetering closer and closer to a fight with every nearly snarled word, but he’s powerless to stop it. In fact, he’s ready to go. Have it out. But not right now, because-

“Hey.” He catches her arm just as she starts to hoist another punching bag onto the hook. “Be careful! You’re still healing.” -she’s hellbent on hurting herself. Again.

She whirls around as if he’s slapped her.

“Oh my god. You have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop treating me like I’m going to break!” Her voice is shrill, rising higher and higher with each syllable. “I love you, but you are driving me insane. I am not your child-”

“No, you’re the person I want to marry!” He takes a deep breath, preparing to follow up with, “-and you keep acting like you have a death wish”, but before he can-

“You won’t even fuck me anymore!” Immediately, her eyes go wide and she slaps a hand over her mouth.

If her declaration surprised her, it absolutely stunned him so, not quite sure what else to do, he takes a few steps back and sits down. A few seconds pass before she approaches and, with a heavy sigh, sinks down next to him.

“Bucky, I am so sorry. I don’t know where any of this is coming from-”

“I think you do, Doll.” Her eyes dart nervously between his face and the floor. On instinct, he reaches over and takes her hand. “And so do I.” He takes a few moments to rearrange his thoughts before pushing ahead. “A lot has changed since-”

“The world ended. We lost. And then we won.” He nods.

“Yeah, and I don’t think either of us have quite wrapped our heads around it. I know I haven’t.”

It’s silent for a moment, and then, voice trembling, she tells him,

“After you went away, I was completely lost. Didn’t know why I had to stay. What kind of cruel trick is it, just when everything was starting to go right-” He finally had the poison of HYDRA sucked out of him, she’d found a safe place where she didn’t have to run and hide because of something she was born with, he’d worked up the nerve to ask her if she’d maybe one day be his wife. “-and then it’s wiped out? You finally went somewhere I couldn’t follow.” He still can’t imagine what those five years must’ve been like, not just for her, but everyone else who survived the snap. “I didn’t want to keep going. But I had to.” She chuckles. “Steve wouldn’t let me throw in the towel.”

A smile forms on his own face. “Yeah, he had a habit of doing that.”

“I guess…” She sighs. “I don’t know. I got harder, rougher around the edges. I thought I could just go back to normal once everyone came back-”

“But old habits die hard.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“Yeah, and as much as I chip away at it, I’m not sure I’ll ever get back to who I was before.”

“You won’t.” She peers up at him, eyes wide in shock, maybe a hint of sadness. “I can tell you that right now from experience. You won’t go back, but-” He’s had a lot of time to consider this, so he can say it and absolutely believe it. “-I love the girl that’s here now. She’s pretty amazing, rough edges and all.”

She’s sitting so close. He could pull her into his lap, just hold her for a minute. So, that’s what he does, and just like the first time, they fit together perfectly, like she was made to fit in his arms, or maybe he was made to hold her. Either way, it leaves no doubt in his mind that they belong together.

“You changed. Everyone does. You got stronger and tougher, because that’s who you had to be. And I wasn’t there to change with you.” He can feel her shoulders shake, and even though she’s facing away from him, he knows she’s fighting back tears. “But I’m gonna catch up. It’s just taking me a while to get it through my thick skull that my girl’s a badass, and I need to ease off the bodyguard routine a little.” There. That’s more like it. A laugh, even if it’s a small one. “I just worry about you, is all. I don’t know how to stop it, and I’m not sure I can, but I’m working on it.”

“I worry about you too, you know.” She sniffs, swiping at her nose with her hand. “I’m fucking terrified because, now that I’m like you, I know what your limits are. I’m scared you’ll forget them, or you’ll ignore them because you’re trying to be a good man.” She cranes her head, meeting his gaze. “But you are a good man, Bucky Barnes. You never stopped being one, no matter what you think.”

“I think your picture of me might be more flattering than who I really am.”

“Shut up.” She presses her palm over his mouth. “I have visions, so seeing is never my problem. And it’s not the way I’m picturing you. We’ve known each other long enough for the shine to wear off.” Never. It’ll never be possible for him to know her so long that she’s not absolutely golden from where he’s standing. “It’s who you’ve shown me you are. And if the rest of the world doesn’t see it, that’s their problem. Not yours.”

He’s not sure if he buys all that, but it’s enough that she does. She sees him as that man, so he’ll try every day of his life to be just that.

“Come on.” Gently pushing her off of him, he stands and offers her his hand. “That’s enough training for today. We’re still wounded.”

She chuckles. “Is that your excuse for calling it early?”

He nods, barely suppressing a grin. “That, and you’ve gotta change into something that doesn’t fit you like a second skin before my brain permanently short-circuits.”

“Showers, then?”

“Showers.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The compound sustained heavy damage thanks to Thanos crashing a ship into it, but in the past few months (helped along by Pepper’s billions and the entire galaxy’s appreciation towards the Avengers in equal parts), enough repairs have been done to make it partially usable. In this case, the locker room. Just the one, though. Which, of course means co-ed showers.

She won’t admit it, but she’s particularly appreciative of that little detail today. As she circled the compound on her last lap, she saw that the only two cars there are hers and Barnes. They’re the only two people here, and she fully intends to use that to her advantage.

“Join me? I don’t want to overextend my shoulder trying to wash my hair or back.” It’s a blatant lie, and from his expression, she can tell that he knows it too. But, he nods.

“Yeah, doll. I can do that.” Part one of the plan has been executed beautifully. Onward to part two.

She purposely leaves the travel sized bottles of shampoo and body wash on the floor so that, after rinsing off for far longer than is really necessary, she has to bend over to retrieve them. If it weren’t for her enhanced hearing, she’d completely miss the sharp intake of breath in response to her little show, but she catches it and can’t help grinning to herself. Part two: get him as worked up as she is. So far, so good.

The feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through her hair, is almost enough to make her forget that she’s a woman on a mission. Almost. As soon as she’s rinsed the soap out of her face, she turns to him.

“Your turn. Bend.” It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and as always, she has to fight back a laugh as he inclines his head towards her, the entirety of his hair falling forward to cover his face. “This used to take a lot longer before you decided to chop it all off.” He chuckles, eyes closed against the soap.

“What can I say? Seventy-three years without a haircut is my limit.” She can’t blame him, and although it was a shock at first, she’s come to like this new look. It makes him look…younger, somehow. More boyish. Like his life hasn’t contained as many horrors as they both know full well it has.

“You checking for lice or something?”

“Huh?” That jerks her out of her sentimental daze. “Looks like you’re clear.”

There’s no way to put it politely. She’s straight up ogling him as he rinses off. Five damn years…

“Ready to get your back?” And, she just got caught staring.

“Sure.”

His hands are gentle, putting as little pressure on her injured shoulder as possible, growing firmer as they work down her back. She holds her breath as she feels his palms ghost over the swell of her ass, but then he’s back to safer territory. At least, that’s what she thinks until the metal arm snakes around her chest, just below her breasts, holding her in place. His free hand runs down from her sternum to her middle, stopping just above her hips, then- fuck. Nothing. He’s backing away.

“Do you need help with your legs?” No, what she needs help with is located between them. Suddenly, the shower feels far too hot, and she’s desperate to cool off.

“That’s okay.” Her voice is shaky, and she mentally berates herself as she steps under the spray, rinsing away the soap.

She’s not at all sure that her excuse for leaving the shower and going to towel off made any sense, but with a few feet between them, she’s able to breath again. Alright, scratch the whole “shower seduction” idea. It wasn’t that great to begin with. She gets him as hot and bothered as she is, and then what? Shower sex is a slippery affair, and plus there’s the height difference… in the steamed up mirror, she catches sight of him climbing out of the shower and toweling off. Fuck it. What does she have to lose?

“Come here.” As he turns around, she hops up on the counter top (thank fuck Stark went all out and got the sinks that can easily hold the weight of an adult), allowing her towel to slip further down her chest.

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flit down to her cleavage before settling back on her face as he stands in front of her.

“Yeah, Doll?”

“Let me get your hair. You’ll never get it dry yourself.” She’s really running low on excuses, but if she plays her cards right, she won’t have to keep up this ruse for much longer.

“You know-” She murmurs against his ear as she starts working a towel over his tousled locks, “-if you don’t take me right now, I’m gonna be really offended.”

His head snaps up, and she nearly drops the towel.

“Well, I can’t let that happen, can I?”

She has a smart-ass remark all planned out, but then his lips are pressed against hers, hard, insistent, and her brain completely empties of anything other than pure need. She’s not completely sure how, but somehow the towel wrapped around her torso (it’s so short, it didn’t even cover her ass sitting down) disappears, leaving them chest to chest, both still slightly damp from the shower. On instinct, her legs wrap around his back, bringing them so close together she can feel his cock twitch against her thigh.

“The floor, or-” It’s murmured against her ear between nibbles.

“No. Here.” It’s all she can do to hold back a moan as his whole body rumbles with quiet laughter.

“Someone’s eager.”

She leans back far enough to peer into his eyes.

“And you’re not?” The response is a thumb against her clit, and she has to bite down hard on his shoulder to muffle a yelp.

“If I’d known you were ready, you wouldn’t have gotten any sleep for the past two months.” That would’ve been a very small price to pay.

Five years is a long time, and her body tenses up at the intrusion of his finger inside of her, but she immediately forces her muscles to relax, and within seconds, it’s all she can do not to writhe against him.

“That’s it. Relax. I’ll take care of you.” It’s a lost cause. This is going to be noisy. She hazily thinks to herself that it’s all his fault.

He’s always been one for foreplay, making sure she’ll be comfortable once they actually get around to the main event, but finally enough is enough and, reaching between them, she stills his wrist.

“Get inside me.”

“Are you sure? You’re still tight-” Disentangling one of her arms from around his neck, she gives his hair a sharp tug.

“I’m like you now, remember? You’re not going to break me.”

He pulls back from her, hesitating, eyes darting between her face and the door.

“What?”

“I don’t have-” Oh. She quickly runs the calculations in her head. Given which day of the month it is, the likelihood would be-

“It’ll be fine. Just pull out.” To her relief, he doesn’t argue.

Her breath catches as he pushes inside of her, and if the panting against her neck is anything to judge from, she’s not the only one affected.

“It’s been too damn long.” Despite the situation (or perhaps because of it), she laughs breathlessly.

“You think it’s been too long? Try five fucking years!” His laugh tickles her neck.

“You’re never gonna stop using that one, are you?”

“Nope. I think I’ve earned the right.” After all, he constantly reminds her that he had to wait 98 years to meet the love of his life, so fair is fair.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you.”

“Sounds like you just set yourself a challenge.”

“Guess I’d better get to work then.” As he says it, he pulls nearly all the way out only to slam back in again.

It’s primal, the way their bodies move together, desperate for a connection that’s been missing for so long. There’s no room or need for words to be spoken; their gasped breaths and strangled moans say it all. His hand sneaks between them, toying with her nub, and that’s what sends her over the edge. It’s the tipping point for him too because, muffling his cries against her shoulder, he pulls out just in time.

“We shoulda done that before the shower.” She’s still gasping for breath, but it forces a laugh from her. He follows suit, offering her a spare towel to clean herself up.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Barnes.” He shoots her a questioning look as she hops down on shaky legs. “I thought it was good before, but damn.”

He laughs, pulling on his jeans. “I didn’t want to risk breaking the bed. I’m a gentleman like that.” She knows the real concern was her safety, but if she concentrates on that too hard, she’ll start going mushy, and in this instance, crying after sex seems like it would kill the mood.

“You know-” She pulls her t shirt over her head, not bothering with a bra. “-I never really liked the bed I have now anyway.” It’s also really too small for two full-grown adults to share comfortably.

Sliding his duffle bag over his shoulder, he takes her hand. “Then maybe we should go home? Give you an excuse to get a new one?” Before she can answer-

“Go home. Please, I’m begging you, for the love of god, go.” Her eyes dart towards the source of the noise. The door, or more specifically, the other side of it. “Hearing you and the bionic man fucking once was enough. I’m gonna shoot you both and then myself if I have to listen to round two.”

Bucky catches her eye and mouths “Oops!”, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“You know Sam, you could’ve just walked away. You didn’t have to wait outside the door like a creep.” She has to bite her fist to keep from laughing out loud.

“Yeah, trust me. I could hear you from all the way down the hall.”

“Sorry.” She gasps it out between bouts of laughter, and she must be pulling a funny face, because he snickers to.

“No, you’re not.” No, she really isn’t. Just that they got caught.

“We’re heading out. You’ve got the place to yourself.” Giving his hand a tug, she pulls open the door, revealing a flustered Sam.

“I hope you remembered to wipe down the counter, you nasties!”

As they make their way down the corridor, Bucky calls out,

“See you Monday?”

“Yeah. And you’d better be wearing pants!”

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #post endgame #smut #part 2

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angelofthebau · 3 years

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Your Majesty [Part One of Three]

Aaron Hotchner x Female OC/Reader

Word Count: 3204

This town is full of gangs, it always has been, but one woman is in charge of them all. When the BAU team are called onto a dangerous poisoning case, the PD captain tries to reject their help. But the team aren’t leaving, and they’re going to be dragged into a bizarre town with a interesting queen who seems to have taken a shine to the BAU Chief.

Angel Note: I already began this story using smaller parts, but the second part somehow got deleted (thanks Tumblr). So I’ve rewrote it. I am still taking my Tumblr break, but this was a request that I really wanted to do.

Jet briefings were always the worst. They meant that time was of the essence, an unsub desperately unravelling further at each moment, but the case that the BAU were about to be thrown into was far more complex and dark than they could have initially thought. True, it was already dark enough - as Penelope Garcia explained over the video feed from back in her ‘cave’ in Quantico - three children and two teenagers dying of mysterious causes, all in quick succession, with no link between them available to see at the local PD’s surface view.

‘Eight year old Susanna Rose, six year old Jaxon King, eleven year old Jessica Baker, sixteen year old Michael Barren and nineteen year old Austin Rivers. All lived in different parts of town, Susanna and Jaxon went to the same school, Jessica went to a different school just outside of town. Austin worked at a gas station and she still lived with her parents, and Michael was in high-school with no job,’

Going back and forth over the case file, agents Prentiss, Jareau, Rossi, Morgan, Hotchner and Dr Reid threw around possible links and early theories. The possibility of an unknown disease was thrown out by the local PD, due to none of the family members from the victims’ households becoming sick. An interesting toxicology report on Susanna, Jaxon and Jessica found an unusual concoction of substances within their system. The ME was still finishing their report on Austin and Michael, but they were betting the same mixture would show up too. A lethal, rare compound of chemicals that created havoc on the human nervous system and causing the body to attack itself, eventually shutting down completely. A poison.

“We’re landing,” Hotch interrupted the conversation, hushing it to a silence as the plane descended.

“Detective Mills, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” Mills greeted the two agents with an outstretched hand as they walked into the precinct. He was met with a firm handshake from the BAU chief.

From the back of the precinct, Captain Halloway happened to glance up from the case file, catching the end of Mills’ handshake with a stranger. A suit. Tailored. Serious. FEDs.

“SSA Hotchner and Jareau,” Hotch spoke lowly, accepting the formality. “The rest of my team are with the ME and the latest victims’ family,”

“Mills,” Halloway bellowed, striding over to his detective and the two FEDs, a scornful look plastered on his features.

Mills flinched as the Captain stopped beside him, facing the agents.

“Captain Halloway,” He introduced himself. “I’m sorry, Agents. We have this case handled,” Halloway spoke sternly, before turning towards Mills. “What did I tell you about calling the god-damned FBI?”

Mills’ mouth fluttered open and closed, like a fish, as Halloway stared him down.

“Sir, with due respect, this case is incredibly time-sensitive and my team has agreed to be at your disposal,” Hotch interrupted, sensing the tension.

“This is still your case, we are just here as a resource to stop more people from being killed,” Jareau soothed.

“No-one else is going to be killed, agents. Apologies for your wasted journey, but things are under control here,”

“Captain, how can you be sure that you have this handled?” Hotch questioned, his arms crossed against his chest, his face smouldering.

“Agents, you don’t know this town. I can assure you, this is being taken care of,”

“Why is there information missing from your case file? Surely, if this case is being taken care of, then you have a suspect, or a lead, or something more than what’s in this file,”

JJ held up the dull, thin file. Halloway took a sharp intake of breath, staring up at the ceiling to compose himself for a second.

“Please, Agents. Go home,” He mumbled, trying to sound as authoritative as possible, but he knew he was in a difficult territory. The FEDs would never back off from a case like this and the precinct truly had no leads or suspects as such. Halloway had a secret weapon as such - not enlisted by him, but someone that he knew would put an end to the killings. Someone who was better at catching a killer in this town than the cops were.

JJ and Hotch stood still, showing no signs of moving at all, and bore a glare into Halloway.

Halloway shot a scowl towards Mills. Mills shrank into himself further.

“Do you want to start a fight with the Queen?” Halloway spat at Mills.

♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔

“So, what’s with the Queen business?” Rossi asked as soon as he entered the conference room that Halloway had reluctantly given the BAU, Prentiss following behind. Morgan and Reid were already in the room, relaying information from the ME report to Hotch and JJ.

Hotch looked up from his casefile.

“Something’s not right about the case,”

“Mills clammed up as soon as Halloway got close to him. Something’s happening, but we’re not sure what yet,” JJ added.

“Corrupt cop maybe?” Prentiss offered, but Hotch shook his head.

“He’s allowing us to stay on the case. Why would a corrupt cop do that?”

“To avoid suspicion?”

“But who’s the Queen?”

Halloway opened the conference room door, just catching Reid’s question as he entered. The agents became silent, watching his every move. He exhaled loudly, shutting the door behind him. He drew the blinds in the conference room and flicked on the huge screen at the back of the room, remote in hand.

“This town is gang territory. It has been for years, most of our cases were rival gangs fighting over turf. Usually open shut investigations, until five years ago,” He began. He pressed a button on the remote, illuminating the screen with three group photographs, with each photograph titled by gang name.

“There are more gangs, but these three are the main groups that run in this town. Caana, Arc and Silver. Caana…”

Halloway clicked the button again, showing a collage of photos of at least twelve different people, some mugshots - some candid.

“They’re the oldest. Dating back to before this town was really a town. Drug smugglers mostly, forever thinking they’re a cartel but they’re just drinkers and fighters now, with the occasional pill selling,”

He switched the screen again, showing another collage. Only five people, all candid shots.

“Arc are clever bastards. Own half of the town, cooked their books, ran an on-ground black market operation. We’ve always been two steps behind them, and they’re in and out of the town regularly,”

“Past tense?” Reid wrinkled his nose. Halloway nodded.

“They’ve never been tied to any of our old cases themselves, but Arc get the blame for most of Caana’s fighting with…”

The next screen was a huge collage, over thirty different people. Only one mugshot.

“Silver. Silver are the worst. These guys are into everything. Half of them came from The Silk Road collapse, huge dark net presence. We suspect some hitmen run with them too,”

“Why was the government never notified of these gangs?” Morgan asked, chewing on the end of his pen. Halloway shook his head.

“Five years ago, our cases slowed. Calls about Caana’s bar-fights stopped. Arc’s name stopped being mentioned. Most of the members of Silver seemed to drop from the face of the earth. The black market stopped - everything just seemed to halt. We found out that there was a hierarchy controlling all three of these gangs, keeping them out of trouble with the law and calming down their rivalries. The gangs started keeping to themselves, Arc even improved the community significantly. We knew they wouldn’t just stop their activities, another group had to be controlling them and covering them all up. But the town became more peaceful and we hadn’t had a homicide case hit our desks until now,”

“So which group was overseeing them all?” Hotch asked.

“Not a group. One woman,”

“The Queen?”

“A few gang members from Caana mentioned ‘Queen’ if we ever spoke to them. It was always ‘Queen will handle it’ or ‘Queen will punish’. Almost biblical, in a sense,”

Halloway clicked to the final slide. There was only one photo, it was candid but the woman’s features were clear enough.

“Elizabeth Tatiana Leighton. Known as Tate Leighton. We ran into her three years ago…I ran into her three years ago. She’s the Queen. She runs all three gangs. She stopped the rivalries, she oversees every single thing that the gangs do. I have no idea what she holds over them, she has no one else by her side, but she controls every member. She’s ruthless,” Halloway paused to look at the photograph, a ghost of a smile flickering in his face. “But, in a way, she’s on our side. The activity from the gangs went cold years ago, no-one knows what they’re doing now or if they’re even operating anything anymore. There’s only been one altercation since she took control. From what I heard, the members involved in the feud were scared onto the straight and narrow by her,”

“So you can’t track anything to her?” Prentiss asked. She was almost in awe of Tate.

“No. A note was on my desk a few days ago, just before the first body was found,”

Whilst Halloway dug into his pocket, searching for the note, Hotch stared at the screen. He memorized Tate’s face, noticing the youth in her features. She must have been only twenty-something. He wondered how she got into this business, and how she controlled so many people.

“It is under my control. Accept my grave condolences to the families of the victims. I do not tolerate killing of innocents, especially children. I am taking care of this. Do not follow this up. I will give you my word when everything is clear. I will pay for the victims to be remembered. Signed, Majesty,” Halloway read. The team were stunned silent for a moment.

“So, we have a young woman in control of three dangerous gangs. She has morals and a rule-book,” Rossi commented.

“The issue is, we can’t leave this case alone,” Morgan sighed.

“Why not?” Halloway asked in worry.

“I have a feeling that this woman is going to take an eye for an eye to whoever is responsible for this,”

Mills bounded into the room. He stopped for a brief second, lingering beside the door as he noticed Tate’s photo on the board, before quickly snapping out his gaze.

“There’s a call about another body,” Mills burst out. Halloway nodded to the team as they all stood up from the chairs.

“I won’t lie, I’m uncomfortable, but I’m glad to have you here,” Halloway muttered to the room. The agents shot a glance at him, before leaving the conference room.

Tate was the first to find the body. She hadn’t heard from Olen in a few hours and now his body lay on the beach, next to Caana’s old smuggling cove, unused as a passage for the last decade, in bad shape. She kept her distance from the body, but spent a minute in silence. Olen was a good man. She respected him immensely - he was intelligent and cunning, but understood Tate’s viewpoint in life and supported her from the moment she took over the lowers.

When Deacon had come to her only a couple of hours ago with news of an FBI presence, Tate had already set a plan in motion. Her most trusted lowers were assigned to tail the agents, ordered to stay in pairs for their own safety. She only wanted to know what they agents knew, purely to aid her own investigation. Before Deacon had left to begin his assignment, he’d handed her a file, filled with pictures and information on the FBI agents working on the case. She’d spent a good half hour memorising their names, their faces, their accomplishments - trying to find any weaknesses to play with in case the agents turned on her.

In a way, she wished that she could share information with the law. The poison was called Keltrox, which Silver had acquired from a known gang contact. They’d given it to Tate in order for her to analyse it and create a cure. With the business that her lowers got up to, they pissed a lot of people off - Keltrox was a hot new thing on the market, according to Silver, with a high chance that someone seeking revenge on one of her lowers would use it.

Sadly, knowing where the Keltrox came from couldn’t narrow Tate’s search, as any of the gang members could have gotten their greasy hands on it - not just Silver. Hell, maybe even the drunkest in Caana had a stash somewhere.

Tate’s blood began to boil the longer she stared at Olen’s lifeless body. The kill felt personal, as if Tate had been poisoned herself. Innocent people dead, and now one of her most loyal lowers. It was a message, and Tate could hear it loud and clear.

The agents hadn’t been to the beach according to her hourly reports. Olen wouldn’t have been at the beach unless he had good reason to slip away from his assignment. The killer had to be one of the most trustworthy lowers to pull something like this. Her most loyal lowers knew that Tate would be at the beach, in this very spot, if she was unable to be found anywhere else. It was the beach that she washed up on years ago, on a tiny lifeboat she’d managed to get onto when Alzena began to fail and wreck. The moment that she’d found the freedom that she’d been looking for was completely within this spot - now, there was Olen’s corpse.

His eyes were still open. She badly wanted to close them, to sprinkle sand over them, to keep his vision away from what would happen now. But even Tate knew that the FBI would find something more within Olen’s corpse, and her compulsion would ruin that chance. She didn’t want to lead them down the wrong path.

“The call said the body was next to Caana’s cove, it should be just over this hill,”

Halloway’s voice sent Tate running into a dip in the rocks of the cove, poking her head above to see two agents accompanying Halloway towards Olen’s body. She ducked back down as they drew closer to her, cursing her sandy footprints that she’d left behind. After a few seconds, she ducked her head back up, recognizing the agents as Prentiss and Hotchner. They talked for a little while, their conversation indistinguishable to Tate, until Prentiss left the beach with Halloway. Hotchner stayed, seemingly staring at the ground until his face turned towards Tate’s direction.

He’d clocked the footsteps.

He raised his head, locking eyes with Tate immediately. His hand automatically grabbed onto his gun holster, but Tate stood up fully, hands above her head. Hotch relaxed his grip.

“Tate Leighton,” He addressed her, but Tate shook her head.

“Close his eyes please, Agent Hotchner,”

Hotch stared at her for a brief moment, then silently leaned towards the body, gently brushing Olen’s eyes closed. Within those seconds that he turned away, Tate had taken off, vanishing as he turned back to look at her.

He stayed on the beach for a minute or so, dissecting his encounter with the Queen herself. She looked even younger than she did in the photo that Halloway had shown him. She knew his name. They were being watched.

What he never expected was her empathy. They painted her to be ruthless and uncaring, almost numb. He didn’t believe that her request to him was a plan to get away, but instead a compulsion of emotion, compassion.

He made his way back towards the car, meeting up with Prentiss and Halloway.

“Did you find anything else?” Prentiss asked, opening the back car door.

“Tate Leighton,” Hotch spoke lowly, settling himself into the driver’s seat of the SUV.

“The Queen was there?” Halloway burst out.

“She was there before us, there were footprints from the body to where she was hiding,”

“Is she a suspect?” Prentiss asked, and Hotch shook his head as he started the car engine.

“I don’t think so. She asked me to close the victim’s eyes, and then she left.”

“Huh,” Prentiss thought aloud.

“She knew my name. She’s watching us,”

Hotch began to drive back to the precinct. At a red light, just before the turn for the precinct, he glanced out of his window. Tate stood there on the sidewalk, watching him.

“Thank you.” She mouthed to him.

As quickly as she appeared, Tate left, losing herself in the small straggle of people on the sidewalk, making her way back to the beach. She called her lowers, checking on their status. They’d heard the news about Olen by now, but were sticking to their assignments. Deacon and Clarke followed the agents to the beach, seeing Olen’s body, and they’d noticed her on the sidewalk, but said nothing about her encounter with Agent Hotchner. It wasn’t their place to ask her. Deacon was slightly worried about what he’d seen, though. He didn’t like his Queen getting involved with law enforcement, let alone the FBI. What he’d seen on the sidewalk - the way she’d gone back to the car to say thank you to Agent Hotchner...it made him feel a little sick.

Meanwhile, back at the precinct, the team felt like they were hitting dead end after dead end. Sadly, Tate’s work meant that most of the gang’s activities were covered up to the maximum, even Garcia was having a hard time finding out any recent information, and Tate was a ghost in the system. No information could be found on her regarding the last ten years, almost like she vanished during her teens, only to resurface on the beach following a shipwreck five years later, somehow becoming the leader of three gangs in a small, dangerous town. Hotch’s mind replayed Tate’s behaviour over and over again, trying to dissect it further than he already had, but he never found anything new.

“That’s weird,” Garcia’s voice interrupted Hotch’s thoughts and the team’s conversation over the phone speaker.

“Whatcha got, baby girl?” Morgan answered.

“When I was digging into the Queen, one of the things I found was that the boat that she was on when she was at sea was called Alzena - you know, before it was hit by a bad sea storm and she ended up sailing on the lifeboat,”

“And?”

“Now, here’s the thing, I was tracking packages into the town to see if anything suspicious had been reported and nothing had - however, there was a package that was sent about a month ago and the address it was sent to was an abandoned building, so it was sent to the posting office because it couldn’t be delivered. No-one went to pick it up from the office and that package was reported missing four days ago by staff,”

“That could have been the poison,” Prentiss said, looking to the team.

“Guys, the name on the package was Alzena Smith,”

Prentiss shot a look at Hotch.

“We need to bring in Tate Leighton,” He declared, rising from the chair to find Halloway.

♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔

Angel List:

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@arganfics

@rachelxwayne

@ellvswriting-deactivated2021010

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@xessx

@fuxking-insxne

@ptrs-prkrs

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@averyhotchner

@rousethemouse

@whoreforhotch

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harleytheclassclown · 3 years

Text

The Origins of Harley Quinn

Hiya!! Harley here!!!!

You know you can always send me questions. My ask box is wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide open. But before I answer them. Lemme tell you my origin story. So click the read more. Or don't. I don't care.

Before I was Harley Quinn and before I moved to Metropolis. I was a little girl living in Gotham. Well, I had just started high school so I wasn't THAT little but ya get the gist. Y'see my mom worked as a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane and since I was too old for a babysitter my mom let me come with her and see her work.

I gotta admit it was a bit scary being in there with all the baddies Bats had put here. I saw Two-Face, Penguin, Poison Ivy...all the criminal scum Gotham had to offer. My mom was tasked with trying to rehabilitate a special patient that the Bat had recently sent to Arkham. There I saw him, sitting on the edge of his bed. The green hair, the pale face paint with the red sloppily painted on to form a wide clown grin. Not to mention his dreamy eyes.

It was love at first sight. I fell and I fell hard. I know it is super bad for a girl to fall in love with a crazy crime clown. But hey the heart wants what the heart wants.

"Harleen you stay here. The Joker is a master manipulator and I don't want him influencing you" my mom said as she entered Mr.J's cell. I pressed my face against the thin glass separating me from the cell. I could hear mom and Mr.Js voices through the glass.

"So Joker tell me more about your childhood. Were there any traumatic events in life that led you to be the criminal you are today?" I heard my mom ask.

"Well, Dr.Quinzel. There was my father. You see he had a problem with certain substances. The withdrawals were the worst. He would beat me and my mother senseless if he didn't have his...magic elixir. It ended up with my mom leaving...and that left me with dear old dad. The only time I ever saw him happy was when we went to the circus. I remember the clowns so vividly. My dad was in stitches when one of them dropped his pants to reveal white boxer shorts with red polka dots on them" I heard Mr.J say

I could feel my heart break. Poor guy...he has been through so much and Batman was making him worse by beating him senseless. I kept on listening.

"I see. Do you perhaps think that it was the abuse you suffered at the hands of your father that caused your descent into crime?" my mom asked. The Joker lifted his head to make eye contact with my mom. his grin was inhumanely wider than it was before. He cackled maniacally. "Maybe it is. Batman beating me doesn't help much either. I just want to cleanse the world...what does it matter if a few lives are lost" Mr.J said. My mom slammed her notebook shut.

"I think we're done here" she said as she exited the cell. She looked at me.

"Harleen...come to my office whenever you're ready. I got lunch prepared for us both and whatever you do. Do not talk to the Joker" she said before leaving for her office. I looked back at the Joker who was now facing me. His smile was even bigger. I thought his face would split in half.

"So you're Dr.Quinzel's daughter Harleen. You sure are a beautiful gal...y'know if I were to rearrange the letters of your name around a bit it would be Harley Quinn...and every Joker needs a harlequin" he said. I felt my face heat up. Harley Quinn... as in harlequin. I kinda liked it

"I am sorry what yer father did to you and I am even more sorry that Batman is too stupid to realize that you're not actually a criminal but a lost tortured soul who just needs a bit of love," I said

Suddenly Mr.J burst out in tears.

"Oh finally someone who understands my pain. You have no idea how long I have waited to hear those words. You truly are an angel Harleen" Mr.J said.

I put my hand against the glass and Mr.J put his hand against mine

"I will get you out of here" I whispered before heading to my mom's office.

Later that night I had snuck out of the house and stolen some face paint and a harlequin costume from a costume shop and headed to Arkham. I suited up and snuck inside. Once I was inside I snuck to Mr.J's cell.

"Hiya puddin'! Meet your new and improved Harley Quinn" I said.

"You look absolutely stunning," Mr.J said.

"Thank you...now stay back," I said as I swung my mallet. The glass shattered on impact. They really need to invest in thicker glass. The alarm went off and alerted the guards. I grabbed Mr.J's hand and we made a run for it. Any guard unfortunate to get in our way got a face full of my giant mallet.

Weeks passed and we were Gotham's greatest power couple...well that was until Mr.J showed me his real colors. Whenever a caper went wrong he'd let his anger go out over me. My mom always freaked out when I came home with bruises and cuts all over my face and body. I had to lie to here that I had just fallen into some thorn bushes. I couldn't tell my mom that I had been with Mr.J. What was worse was...the incident at ACE Chemicals. "This..will seal the deal of you becoming my bride," Mr.J said. "I-I don't know Mr.J. This is a little bit extreme dontcha think?" I said but before I could even react he pushed me into the vat of chemicals and that was the beginning of my criminal career.

Maybe if I hadn't come with mom to work I would've still been the boring old Harleen Quinzel. But that would've been boring.....right? Why would I ever give up being a criminal?

#2019 dc super hero girls #dc super hero girls #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #the joker #tw abuse #tw domestic abuse #tw male violence

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skeeter-110 · 3 years

Text

I Dreamt About You Every Night

Tony Stark has been dead for seventeen years due to a mission gone wrong. He's survived getting blown up, palladium poisoning, terrorist attacks, and even Thanos himself, and he gets killed by - what was supposed to be - a simple day-to-day mission. Or, so everyone thought.

|| Chapter One || || Chapter Two ||

Chapter Three:

“You don’t start searching for truth until something goes terribly wrong and you realize that you need it. There's no going back after that." - Tarryn Fisher, F*ck Love

"So how is May doing?" Tony awkwardly asks as they began to set the table, already dreading the answer.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he missed almost two whole decades - hell, seeing Pepper almost twenty years older than him rather than five years younger was surreal on it's own - he knew there was a big chance May was no longer here.

"She - uh - she passed. Two years ago." Peter says, confirming Tony's suspicions.

"Oh, Pete, I'm sorry." Tony sighs and, not for the first time, realized how much he truly missed over the past few years.

"It's okay. Well, it's not 'okay' but we kind of saw it from a mile away. She was diagnosed with dementia and eventually it just got to the point where she could hardly remember how to swallow so we knew it wouldn't have been too much longer." Peter explains, Tony giving Peter a sad smile in return.

He wasn't quite sure how to react to the news that he wasn't even able to say one last good-bye to his closest friend. To the only reason that he was even allowed and able to call Peter his son.

Thankfully, the subject got dropped quickly when footsteps were heard coming into the dining room.

"Hey, Claire, did you wash up? Mama's just about done with dinner." Peter greets the pre-teen that walked in.

"Yeah." The girl - Claire, Tony's mind supplies - slowly replies, hesitantly walking towards the table while side-eyeing Tony. "Uh... Dad?" Claire asks, Peter completely oblivious to the looks the pre-teen was giving Tony due to him walking into the kitchen.

"What's up?" Peter asks as he walks back into the dining room with a bowl of rolls. It wasn't until he saw the looks that Claire was giving Tony that he began to understand what was happening.

"Why does he look like Grandpa Tony?" Claire asks, her eyes not leaving Tony even once.

"Yeah, that is an explanation that will come with dinner. So go wash up if you haven't already." Peter says before making his way back into the kitchen.

Tony just watched as Claire continued to give him the stink-eye as she walked away; shivering once he was sure she was gone. She was almost as scary as Tony remembers M.J to be. Which wasn't a thought he should be having about his granddaughter.

And that - that right there was enough to stop Tony in his tracks. Because it was only then that he realized he had grandchildren.

Not when Pepper told Tony that Peter had a whole family now, not when M.J walked in pregnant with three other kids following her behind, and not even when one of Peter's daughters called him grandpa.

Right here and now it was finally hitting Tony that he was technically a grandfather. And, just like with all the rest of the information that's been dumped onto him, Tony wasn't even sure how to feel about that.

He didn't have too much time to dwell on it, though, before a bunch of chaos insured.

Annie-May ran into the room, practically barreling into Tony as she tried to evade a teen boy that was attempting to chase after her. It wasn't until then that Tony actually got a good look and noticed the crutches he was using to get around.

"Come here, you little runt!" The boy yelled at Annie, the small girl jumping up on the wall and crawling up to the ceiling to avoid getting swiped at by the pre-teen. "Oh, that's so unfair. Get back down here!" The boy yells at Annie, seething a bit more when all the girl did in return was stick her tongue out at him.

"Excuse me? What do you two think you're doing?" Peter asks in that "Dad" voice that even Tony had become accustomed to using, raising his eyebrows when no one answered him.

"Annie-May was messing with our project." The boy all but tattles.

"I was not! I was trying to get you to come downstairs for dinner like I was told to do!" Annie argues back making Peter sigh and rub his face.

"Okay, Ben, quit chasing and tormenting your little sister; she was told to come get you for dinner. Annie, you don't need to mess with their science project in order to get him down here. Now, Annie, get off of the ceiling and go in the kitchen to see if your Mama needs help; Ben, go wash up for dinner." Peter corrals, playfully ruffling Annie's hair as she walked by.

"You know, I don't really have to wash up. I washed my hands at school before coming home." Ben argues, earning a very unimpressed look in return.

"That may be true, but weren't you and Claire working with chemicals for your project?" Peter asks, the silence he got in return being all the answer he needed. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Go wash your hands." Peter says, lightly pushing Ben's head towards the bathroom, making the pre-teen laugh as he began walking away.

"Welcome to my - somewhat - controlled chaos." Peter jokes, finally acknowledging Tony as he sets a bowl of salad onto the table.

"Yeah, well, you can't really be all that surprised considering you used to run me and May ragged." Tony teased right back making Peter laugh.

"Let's just be thankful that none of them have tried to sneak out in pajamas and use their powers to save kittens from trees." M.J chimes in as she walks into the dining room, Peter letting out a gasp in faux offense.

"It wasn't pajamas!" Peter protests, earning unimpressed looks from both Tony and M.J.

"Yes it was." They both said at the same time, making Peter huff and mumble something about being attacked in his own home. M.J just looked at Tony before giving him a small smile; a huge accomplishment in Tony's eyes since he remembers it was almost impossible for him to do before everything happened.

"It's good to have you back. I don't know how you're back but I'm glad either way." M.J says, patting Tony on the shoulder as she walked past.

"You know, I think that's just about the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Jones." Tony says, pretending to sniffle and fold his hands over his heart.

"Don't get used to it." M.J says, giving him the same side-eyed glare that he had just received a minute ago from Claire.

"There's the same scary girl I remember." Tony teases only earning an eye-roll in return.

"Well, you might as well take a seat and start making your plate up before the kids get here and you're left foraging for scraps." Peter says while him and M.J both sat down at the table.

Tony just chuckled and shook his head, deciding to take the warning and sit down also. If Peter's children had even a lick of the same appetite he has, Tony knew he should definitely take them up on the offer.

Almost as if they knew plates were being made, all three kids were running into the dining room, all but plopping down into their chairs and scrambling to put food on their plates.

Tony couldn't help but watch in awe at how easy it was for the perfect picture of domestication to occur. Almost as soon as every one had food on their plates, the kids took that as invitation to begin talking about their days.

Once again, Tony was left marveling over how much he missed. He missed Peter getting married, and having his first kid; along with his second and third. He missed most of his life with Pepper, and he missed Morgan graduating high school and going off to college.

Tony only allowed the sadness he felt to wash over him for a second before quickly turning it into determination. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure that he didn't miss anymore time with his family, and he was going to make sure whoever did this was going to pay for it.

"So, are we just going to continue to ignore the big elephant in the room eating dinner with us? No offense." Claire pipes in once it seemed that everyone was somewhat finished with their dinner.

"None taken?" Tony brushes off, unsure if he really should take that statement as a slight or not.

"It's kind of hard to explain." Peter starts, glancing over towards Tony and sighed when all the scientist did was shrug. Tony figured that since Peter - obviously - knew his kids better, he would be better fit to explain the situation to them.

"Well, you all know how there's bad people out there that don't like the Avengers? And how they'll do anything to stop us from doing good?" Peter begins, waiting for all the kids to confirm before continuing. "Well, we don't know why, but those bad people thought that the best way to stop the Avengers was by taking Grandpa Tony."

"But why would that stop the Avengers?" Ben asks.

"And I thought you guys were sure he was dead. Didn't you guys have a whole funeral for him? Why would you have a funeral if you didn't even know he was dead?" Claire chimes in before Peter could even answer Ben's question.

"So this is what Grandpa Tony looks like?" Annie blurts out, still making it impossible for Peter to answer any questions.

"Okay, okay, slow down. We're not sure exactly why they took Grandpa Tony, but we can just assume it was to stop the Avengers and take over. And we thought he was dead because the bad guys managed to make a fake body to trick us. They probably didn't like that we were hot on their trail trying to find Tony." Peter explains, both teens nodding their heads as if all of this made perfect sense.

"So, what happens now?" Claire asks, making Tony and Peter look at each other. Neither one of them really knew how to answer that question. They hadn't actually gotten that far yet.

"What happens now is you kids finish up your homework and get ready for bed." M.J replies when she realized that none of the men there knew how to respond. Of course, without fail, all three kids began to whine at the apparent absurdity of it all.

"Dad?" Claire asks, doing her best to give Peter her patent puppy-dog-eyes.

"Nope, sorry, I have to agree with your mother here." Peter says, making all of the kids grumble and groan as they got up from their seats, cleaned up their messes, and reluctantly made their ways back into their rooms.

"I am going to clean up in the kitchen, you boys need to talk and figure out what your next move is." M.J says, planting a kiss on the side of Peter's head before walking off towards the kitchen.

"So, I guess we need to figure out our game plan, huh?" Peter awkwardly asks, unsure really of where to go from this point.

"We need to figure out where they took me first before we plan anything else." Tony starts.

"How are we going to figure that out? Tony, I've re-watched the only footage that we have over and over again for five years. Not one clue of where they've hidden you popped up. All the clues we had were a dead-end." Peter tells the scientist.

"Maybe there's something in the field they dropped me off at." Tony shrugs.

"Yeah, maybe. It would probably be best if we went at night, though. That way it'll be harder for anyone to see us snooping around." Peter agrees, trying to come up with a simple plan that won't raise suspicion.

"So it's settled then; tomorrow night it's time to suit up." Tony says as they both began to stand up, Peter laughing and pulling Tony in for a hug.

Tony couldn't help but melt into the hug, glad to hold his boy - who was not really a boy anymore - in his arms.

"I missed you and your pop culture references." Peter light-heartedly admits, making Tony chuckle and ruffle Peter's hair.

"I better get going, though, so I'll see you tomorrow, Pete." Tony says before walking towards the kitchen and exchanging goodbyes with M.J.

"See you tomorrow, Tony." Peter repeats as Tony leaves through the front door, watching as Tony got into his car and began to drive away.

Something deep down in Peter's gut told him that no matter what, they weren't going to find anything but trouble tomorrow.

Tag List: @spideyspeaches @lost-lunar-wolf @joyful-soul-collector @hatakehikari

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #fanfiction #adult peter parker #presumed dead #michelle jones

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

Text

Good morning fuckers, I wrote over 2k words in twenty-four hours (and a good portion of that at ass o’clock in the morning because I was up with cats).

Title: will you drive me back/can you take me home

Wordcount: 2427

Summary: When a run goes south, Party Poison gets stuck out in Zone Five with Cherri Cola. This leads to some interesting conversations, mainly involving Kobra Kid and a lack of emotional intelligence.

Warnings: There is some very lightly implied past sexual harassment (it's only one line, but I figured I'd warn for it). Also the usual amount of swearing.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Party Poison did not like being here.

Here, being, of course, a dusty road in the middle of Zone 5, where they were currently standing, in the middle of the fucking night, watching Cherri Cola fiddle with the engine of his truck. They found the Zone poet annoying at best, and they certainly didn’t trust him, so it had taken quite a bit of convincing for them to come on this run in the first place. Just a short run with Cola, Poison. It will be easy, just a tiny trip to pick up some supplies. Cherri just needs a companion. It’s safer together, Poison. That’s what Dr. Death Defying had said back at the radio station as he talked Poison into this fucking train wreck.

The run had turned out to be neither short nor easy, filled with disasters from beginning to end. First, they had been attacked along the way, and then the neutral who had promised the supplies had attempted to backstab them. After a lot of negotiation and some mild threatening from Poison, they had been given the supplies. After that, plus fighting off a rather bold (and stupid) killjoy who tried to take their stuff (and managed to get Party’s jacket covered in fucking slime), they had finally been able to get back on the road...only for Cola’s stupid fucking truck to break down. So now Poison was stuck in Zone Five with a broken down truck and no jacket at one in the fucking morning, what was supposed to be a simple afternoon supply run having turned into a many hour slog. Frankly, they were getting pretty tired of it.

“Hey, Pepsi, any luck with the truck?”

Cherri Cola raised his head from where he was fiddling with the hood. Even in the moonlight, Poison could tell that his hair was a mess and his cheek was streaked with motor oil, disheveled as ever. “Not a bit, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck,” Poison swore. “Just what we need.”

“There is some good news, though,” Cola continued. “I think I know what’s wrong, I just don’t have the tools to fix it on me.”

“Well that’s not very helpful then.”

The other didn’t reply, busy rooting around in the glove compartment. After a minute or so, he looked up again. “Nope, not here.”

This night just got better and better. “Fuck. So now what?”

Cherri Cola was fiddling with a handheld radio now. “Newsie isn’t far from here right now, I’m going to radio her and ask her to bring over the tools we need. Hello?”

“Cola? You good?” NewsAGoGo’s staticky voice crackled from the radio.

“Party Poison and I are stuck out in Zone Five, the truck broke down. Can you bring the full toolkit?”

There was a moment of silence from the other side, followed by “Damnit, Cola, tonight was my night off.” Poison heard a faint sigh. “Radio me your location and I’ll be there in twenty.”

They tuned Cola out as he gave Newsie the details, staring out at the desert night. Ghoul and Jet were bound to be worried if Poison didn’t get home soon. Whether Kobra would be worried was a toss-up; if he was, he certainly wouldn’t bother to tell Poison. Either way, they were supposed to be home three hours ago. Ghoul and Jet were probably already worried, come to think of it. Well, they would just have to suck it up and deal with it, since Poison had to suck it up and deal with being stuck with Cherri Cola.

Speaking of Cherri Cola, he had come over to tap them on the shoulder. “Hey, Poison, Newsie’s on her way. It’ll probably be a half hour or so, though, do you want to get back in the truck?”

Why was he so insufferably nice? “I’m fine.”

“You sure? It is pretty chilly out here, and your jacket is covered in slime, I don’t want to be bringing you back to your crew like ‘hey, Poison nearly froze to death’.” They swore Cola was grinning, although it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Fine, you’re going to be insufferable if I don’t.”

“I’m fairly sure you already thought I was insufferable,” Cherri Cola said with a laugh, hopping back into the driver’s seat as Poison reluctantly followed him.

“Yeah, I do.”

The Zone poet glanced over at them. “I’ve always been a little curious about that- why do you hate me so much?”

“Just curious?”

“Well, a bit hurt, yeah, but I’m hated by a surprising number of people. You get used to it.”

“I don’t see why anyone would ever hate you,” Poison snorted. “Perfect poet Cherri Cola, nicest person in the Zones.” They might have been revealing a little bit too much, but fuck it all. They were tired and done with everyone’s shit.

“But you still hate me, so I can’t be perfect.” His voice held a hint of a smile, but he dropped that as he went on. “I’m not infallible, Poison. I’m human, and I’ve done a lot of things I’m not so proud of.”

Poison actually bothered to turn and look at him this time, taking in his face in the moonlight. “You? Not proud of yourself?”

“Not everyone has your confidence.” Cola’s mouth twisted into a wry smile as he turned to face Poison. “And I have a feeling your confidence is more of a very good shield.”

They jerked away from that kind gaze. “Shut up, Pepsi.”

“As you wish.”

The silence of the desert invaded the car for a few moments more before “I always forget no one gets that reference.”

“What?” Poison eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s from an old movie D and I like; I’ve gotten in the habit of saying that instead of just ‘yes’ to a request.”

“Oh.”

“So really, I’m curious. Why do you hate me?”

“Don’t hate you, just don’t trust you,” Poison muttered. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

“Because of my past?” Cola’s eyes seemed infinitely old in that moment, shadowed by things no killjoy should have had to live through. “I won’t blame you if the answer is yes, you know. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I don’t know shit about your past. I don’t trust you because of how much you hang around my brother.”

Cherri Cola looked more startled than anything. “Kobra? He’s a good kid.”

“So you should stay away from him, then,” Poison snapped. The peace of the desert at night was nowhere near a suitable backdrop for their anger, burning and burning in contrast to the gentle desert sky. Stupid fucking Cherri Cola and his stupid fucking gentle eyes and the stupid fucking way Kobra trusted him, practically more than Kobra trusted Poison, it seemed.

To their surprise (and irritation), Cola didn’t even seem angry. “I don’t mean to hurt your brother in the slightest. He’s just a kid who could use a friend. Reminds me a bit of myself at that age, actually. Although you do even more.”

If you had asked Party Poison at age twelve where they thought they would end up, ‘sitting in a broken-down truck in the desert listening to Cherri Cola say that they reminded him of himself’ would not have been on the list. “You really don’t want to hurt him?”

“No, of course not! Kobra is a very kind person, and I don’t want to hurt anyone if I can avoid it.”

They scanned his face and decided he seemed sincere. Cherri Cola was many things, but a good liar he was not. “Kobes got pushed around a lot back in the city. Harassed by older kids, older people. There’s always some creepy guy who hangs around the young, handsome trans dude.”

Cola’s face was nothing short of horrified. “Destroya, no, Poison. I’ve been there, I’ve been that young trans dude. If Kobra is uncomfortable with me around, I’ll leave him alone. Is- is it okay? Has Kobra asked you to talk to me about this?”

Poison was forced to admit he hadn’t. “No, I just worry about him.” Cola’s words caught up to them. “Wait, you’re a trans guy?”

Cola cracked a small smile. “What part of my personality made you think I was cis?”

“Now that I think about it, none of it.”

“Oh, good, I would hate for that to happen again.”

They glared at him, but they had to admit it was a little bit funny. “You’re pretty fucking bad at acting cis, but you had me fooled.”

“Ah, I’m so clever and trickster-y.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Cola shrugged. “I don’t have to use real words as long as people know what I mean. But back to our original topic, is there any other reason you don’t like me hanging out with your brother?”

Yes. “No. Just worry about how much time he spends with you.”

“I promise I’m not that bad of an influence.” Cola’s teasing grin dropped away again as he glanced over. “I think you worry he doesn’t want to spend time with you, but that’s not true. He does, and he cares. He’s just bad at saying it, and so are you.”

“Fuck. Off,” Poison growled. Why did he always have to hit touchy subjects like that?

Cola shrugged again. “Just saying what I’ve noticed.”

They would have gotten further pissed at him, but a cold gust of wind swept through the car, cooling their anger and making them shiver. They desperately wished their jacket didn’t have to be sitting in the back, covered in some sort of chemical-smelling slime from their run-in with that rude killjoy who turned out to be somewhat of a scientist. He had been not only a ‘scientist’ (really, a bomb maker with some chemistry knowledge) but a dick as well. Poison really wasn’t happy that Cola has stopped them from punching his face in, and especially so now that they didn’t have their jacket.

Speaking of Cola, a hand passed in front of their vision, holding a familiar green jacket, and they figured they better actually listen to what he was saying.

“-not cold anyways, and your brother would kill me if I brought back popsicle Poison instead of Party Poison.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Take the jacket.”

Poison groaned and took it, finding it warm and quite a bit too large for them. “How fucking tall are you?”

“Hmm. Five foot nine, or about that, I’d guess? I think that was what it was, anyways.”

“Have I mentioned that I hate you?”

“Twice already.”

Poison glared at him again, still shivering a little, but just then, Newsie’s motorcycle pulled up with a roar of engines, nearly blinding them both with the headlights. NewsAGoGo themself leaned over to yell up at the truck.

“Hey, Cola, fucker, brought your toolkit!”

“Thanks, Newsie,” Cola called back. He turned to Poison. “Seems like you won’t be stuck with me much longer, which I figure you’ll appreciate. I am insufferable, after all.”

Poison huffed a sigh. “You’re a bastard, Pepsi, you know that, right?”

“Love you too, Party Poison.”

By the time Party Poison arrived home that night, it was probably around two am. Cherri Cola had driven them back to the diner, insisting that it was only fair after putting them through that terrible run. Poison could have pointed out that it was actually Dr. D who sent them with him, but it was easier to just let Cola have his way. Besides the fact that they didn’t know how they would have gotten back to the diner without his help, given that Jet had dropped them off at Dr. D’s radio station that afternoon.

The diner was silent as they walked in, but to their surprise, Kobra Kid was awake and sitting at one of the tables.

“Hey, Pois.”

“Hey, fuckface. What are you doing up?” They kept their voice low as so not to wake up Fun Ghoul, who was snoozing in a different booth. Xe was curled up tightly- remarkably like a cat, actually.

“Waiting for you, dumbass.” Kobra didn’t look up at them, absorbed in whatever he was working on.

Poison’s throat felt strangely tight. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I would have been fine if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well I wanted to know you were safe. Jet did too, but I made him sleep.”

They blinked a few times, trying to ignore the burning in their throat. It must have been the dust that was making their eyes water. “Well, I’m safe and fine. Didn’t appreciate being stuck with Cola, but he’s not that insufferable.”

Kobra snorted. “Why the change of heart?”

“Talked to him a bit,” Poison shrugged. “Still insufferably nice and a bit of a pushover, but there are worse things to be than nice.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?” Kobra actually looked up this time, not waiting for a response before he muttered “Thanks, Pois.”

“Of course, fuckface.” Poison headed towards the back of the diner, where they knew Jet would be firmly passed out on their bed, but they paused to pull Kobra into a hug first. “I love you, you bastard. Even if I don’t say it.”

“What are you, sentimental?” Kobra didn’t pull away, despite his harsh words, and Poison could hear what he didn’t (and wouldn’t) say as he threw his arms around them in return. “Also, why are you wearing Cola’s jacket?”

“Fuck, I’ll need to give that back to him tomorrow. Was cold out there, and mine is covered in slime- and in the back of Cola’s truck. Fuck.”

“You’re an airhead.”

“Fuck you.”

"Fuck you too."

Despite that, Poison didn’t pull away and neither did Kobra, until eventually they did have to let go because Poison was starting to yawn.

But when they got up, Kobra followed them to the back of the diner, pausing in front of the door to his little room. “Night, Poison.”

They shot him a tiny, tired smile. “Night, Kobra.”

Their room was dark and quiet, and for once the presence across the hall felt like warmth and security as opposed to a reminder of one more way they had failed. Poison climbed into the bed, snuggling up against Jet Star, who stirred briefly before falling back asleep. They didn’t bother to take off Cola’s jacket; it was cold in here, alright? But Jet was warm, even if the desert night was freezing, so it was only a few minutes before Poison’s exhausted eyes slid shut.

#auri writes #kobra kid #party poison #cherri cola #ttlofk #jet and newsie do show up but im not tagging them #because they only show up briefly

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thetradeway · 3 years

Text

Session 46: 3 Jul 2021: Has he tried being less of a malignant turd?

Gosh it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Sadly we are down a Grease Wizard again today; Sophie will puppet Gideon for Ed.

Next week, hopefully Matthew will be starting his own campaign for us - I will try to keep some notes, but I don’t expect they’ll be quite as comprehensive as they are for this one.

Right. Have we all taken rests, yes? Good. Well the good news is, after fighting the hydra, the sea-witch has escaped but the weather and the journey improve. The crew seem happier and we go a few days without incident. Ahleqs wants to feed Simon some lumps of hydra or shark, see if he likes that.

Kessler is trying to figure out water skis, and having another look at the schematics she took from the gnome tinker. We all notice there are religious symbols drawn on the tinker’s door in chalk that were not there before. Ardvack, the Right Ruddy Religious knows all about them - the gnome’s gone for basically every god in the pantheon. Just in case.

Kessler wants to make the invention the gnome was working on, and take it to show him her ‘new invention’. Does Waterdeep have IP laws?

She still can’t quite get it to work, however.

Adrvack goes and borrows the Captain’s teapot and and teas, and goes to visit Amelia. Tarragon heads to the kitchen for some cooking sherry with Lolo. Popcorn has put on some weight on the trip, and is snoring (and occasionally farting) in front of the stove.

Aegea climbs up to the crow’s nest with Melaina and points out some white cliffs ahead. She says that’s how the Sword Coast got its name - because from at sea, the cliffs look like swords. Melaina asks how long before we hit land; about two days.

Ahleqs goes to the poop deck to converse with Sparks about defensive spells when you’re running away; you know, important sorcerer business. Gideon is spending a lot of time with the two dwarves, drinking and carousing. He doesn’t seem to pitch in much with his job on the ship.

Is Carl still in one piece? How’s the sea air treating him? He is wandering around patting people on the shoulder and giving them thumbs ups. Team building. He might draw some new pictures.

Tarragon returns from the kitchens - as she passes, the door of the tinker’s room opens and she hears “Pssst!”

Has she noticed anything strange? “…In what way?” He looks uncertain. In an unnatural way. She asks him what he’s noticed. Has she had any unwelcome visitors in her room? “No! Have you?”

He says he’s probably said too much, and shuts the door. She knocks on it. “Are you in trouble? We’re here to look after the ship and guests, if there’s something bothering you, we might be able to help.”

He woke to a figure looming over him one night. He thinks it’s ‘one of those vampires’.

“Can you remember what he looked like?” Well, he nudges her conspiratorially, all those humans look the same right? “What makes you think it was a vampire?” He said he was. “Have you been tinkering with any chemicals, could you have ingested something that might give you squiffy dreams…?” He slams the door.

Next day the captain comes to each of us to say that we should reach Baldur’s Gate tomorrow. He doesn’t know why this voyage was so fraught with danger, but he’s glad we were here.

Ahleqs says he’s sorry the Captain seems to have been so unwell; he is feeling better now but thinks it was something he ate. Ardvack points out that Lolo has access to all the food; Tarragon tells him if there was poison in the kitchen, he (Ardvack) would be dead by now. He gives that some thought.

Tarragon asks Lolo if she knows of anything the Captain might have eaten; the night before the attack, he was eating with the paying guests. It was mostly finger foods, cheeses and wines and fruit that was brought straight up from the hold, it never went to the kitchens. Hmm.

Is there anything else we want to do before we get to Baldur’s Gate? Ahleqs wants to know what it was that weakened the Captain. He seems hung up on that. He and Sparks have been checking for residual magic after the sea witch’s departure. Sparks thinks the sea witch poisoned the Captain, since he is a renowned fighter and was rendered unable to help when the sahuagin attacked.

What about this vampire? Let’s see if there’s anyone tall and bitey. Kessler: “What if it’s someone small and bitey?” Ahleqs: “Well we’ll have to investigate at a lower level.”

We decide to try and convince the gnome to let us stake out his room, since we only have one night left on the ship. Kessler and Tarragon try a spot of persuasion. The gnome seems delighted to let us, since he won’t be getting much sleep anyway. He tells Tarragon he’ll have none of her cheek, however; she was very rude, suggesting he drinks his own chemicals. She bites her tongue while Ardvack sniggers and walks away.

Ahleqs stakes out the outside of the room in case something happens inside, then he can run and get someone stronger. Carl offers to sit with him; they can play cards. (They’ll have to explain the card game to Carl, as well as stop him eating the cards. Ardvack, explaining: "Every time he lifts the cards to his face you have to say, “Ah ah!”) Usha is going to sit with them as well, and join the card game.

Kessler makes another Tinker check as she works with the gnome on his invention, since they're both going to be up all night anyway, and rolls a 20. They crack it! He gives her a copy of his notes - it’s a tube that lights up when you twist it, and off when you twist it again. She’s learned how to make a Maglite.

Tarragon rolls a nat 20 for her Perception, but nothing happens at all while we watch. On the plus side our gnome friend has not been eaten. He hands Tarragon a gold piece as she leaves and says “Might I suggest a hairbrush.” She stares at him coldly, drops the coin on the floor and walks away.

Tarragon, to Kessler as they walk away: “This look is a choice, I’ve spent time on it…”

Amelia tells Ardvack to put the tea away; they’ll drink hers. Is there anything he wanted to talk about?

He blusters; he’s a little troubled. He’s out of place in this world. Can he be candid with her? “Are you capable?” Yes, when needs must.

He blurts out a load of stuff that none of the rest of us know about being sent to Candlekeep when he was little, parental issues, no friends, off-putting personality. The first adventure he went on was a disaster - a beholders lair, the thing was meant to be dead, they were taking notes when it attacked, Ardvack was turned to stone for 200 years, rescuer was killed in animal attack. Before he was a statue, he used to hear a divine voice - but since he returned he has heard nothing and is feeling very isolated. Is there a way he and Amelia can keep in touch, and perhaps she can advise him? He feels adrift in the world.

She listens patiently. They drink a lot of tea. She goes to her pack and says she mentioned before that she is an enchanter. She gives him a mirror; he can contact her through that over distance and they can talk . Not all the time, though. He thanks her. In the mean time, has he tried being less of a malignant turd?

He tells her about Blue Alley. Has she heard of it? She shakes her head. He tells her about the befuddlement and the poems; ever since then any effort on his part has been ‘poorly received’ so he stopped trying. Amelia asks, who did he write the poems to?

“Ugh. The gnome.”

She’s a very beautiful gnome, Amelia tells him. (Damn right.)

“But she’s a gnome!”

Amelia doesn’t think Tarragon would be keen to marry him, and tells him infatuation is normal. (Sophie describes Matthews’ expression for us; he looks horrified.) Amelia tells him to try gold or a flower next time. She also gives him a book titled ‘Basic Manners’, and tells him if she catches him going thorough anyone’s letters again she’ll have his hand off. “The word is nosy, and we’re all nosy, but we’re not all blatant.”

He promises not to abuse the mirror, and leaves her to her business, taking the book with him.

(He calls her immediately after he’s left. “I’m having problems again!”)

The following morning we arrive in the harbour of Baldur’s Gate; Ahleqs’ home. Are we going to meet his parents? Ahleqs flatly: “I think it’s safe to say that we are not.”

We are only passing through here. Gideon is waving a tankard around; Buckla gave it to him when he won a drinking contest. It doesn’t spill (magically) and he can use it as an improvised weapon.

Lolo thanks Tarragon for her help and says she would make an amazing sous chef. She gives Tarragon her ladle. Tarragon protests at first, but accepts it with her thanks. “Lolo, I will treasure it, thank you.”

Usha approaches us; can she still travel with us? Of course!

The Captain asks if we still want help finding someone to take us to Candlekeep; we’ll have to go by road. A merchant’s caravan, perhaps? We’ll be taking the Trade Way, it’ll be just like old times. Then we’ll take the Lion’s Way, which will take us to Candlekeep. We ask around at the docks for merchants travelling that way, with the Captain leading us. He introduces us to a human merchant.

Rirdun Gritsk is his name, and he has delicious calamari in his backpack. We offer him our protection in exchange for his taking us with him; the Captain recommends us personally. Rirdun agrees.

We’ve found the only squid merchant in Baldur’s Gate; this caravan is going to stink. (Actually he’s taking paper; the tentacles are his lunch.)

Ahleqs holds up his mouse cart and suggests we might make use of it. Rirdun, seeing only a tiny cart, pats him on the shoulder with a condescending look; Ahleqs shrugs and stashes the cart in his pocket for later. Kessler hurts Simon’s fuzzy little feelings by suggesting we hire horses.

Melaina, Tarragon and Ardvack make History checks. Ardvack rolls a 19. He knows that the Cloakwood we will pass is ancient and will contain druid circles and sentient trees. He shudders at Tarragon and says the place is ghastly and should be burned.

Tarragon, dead fucking serious: “If you so much as light a match, I will destroy you.” Fortunately we are only passing, not going through.

Ahleqs, Barometer of Bad, starts to get a nervous feeling in his stomach.

Unless he wants to see his folks or his old boss we can be off, however. He thinks not. "We’ve already had one exposition piece in this episode."

We’re eight days or so out. The first four pass uneventfully.

Tarragon thinks it won’t be long before she can ride Popcorn; he’s getting big now. She can sit and chatter with him as well. (She might tell him some of her thoughts about Ardvack, if she can do it in a language Ardvack doesn’t understand.)

Could Ardvack get a piggyback off Carl? Depends; how heavy is he, and will bits of Carl’s shoulders fall off? Ardvack changes his mind and tries to have a conversation with Kessler instead. She said previously that she wasn’t a goblin, he tries to find out what that actually means because we never revisited that.

The world’s a strange place, she tells him. She’s stuck in the form of a goblin, she isn’t *a* goblin. So… how come? As far as she knows, it’s a curse on her family line. Ardvack is familiar with the concept. Who by, how long ago?

Before she was born. What manner of curse? She doesn’t know, or won’t say. If she has the chance or the time she investigates to try and find out. So far not much luck. She asked her father, and he didn’t know either. Every now and then one of the line is born as a goblin, or some other creature.

Is she related to a Gladstone? No.

She asks him about Carl. Will he keep him going until he falls apart, or will he be allowed to rest? No, he has grand plans for Carl. He knows that’s wrong, right? Carl should be allowed to rest. Ardvack’s plan is to resurrect him. He doesn’t have the magical capability, but he’s looking for someone who does. The plan is to send Carl back to his family. He’s only been dead a month or so.

That kind of magic is expensive. Perhaps a good samaritan will step in, or he will learn a spell that can do what he’s trying to do. Carl can always start over. Ardvack made a promise to him. He looks fondly over at Carl. "I think there’s still something in there."

Kessler, unimpressed: “Yes. Worms.”

On the evening of the fourth day, the merchant tells us there’s a lake where we can camp, water the horse, wash clothes, bathe etc. Ardvack Prestidigitations himself; Tarragon rolls her eyes.

Tarragon does cooking duty. The lake is large, but not big enough to be on the map. We are in the equivalent month of July and the water of the lake is lovely and cool. Kessler sets up her Alarm spell. Ahleqs washes his outer clothes but wears his underthings to bathe; Tarragon doesn’t hesitate but strips off and leaps into the water.

Usha moves her bedroll inside Kessler’s Alarm spell. We take watches. Carl stands watch all night like Arnie in Terminator.

Tarragon rolls a 24 total for the cooking - we can have Advantage on two rolls in the next day. Ardvack refuses the food.

Usha and Ahleqs take first watch; she tells him all about her travels and the barbarian tribe. She wants to try to contact them again. The watch passes without event.

Melaina and Kessler roll Perception - Melaina gets 24. Joe changes to a battle map. Uh oh…

Melaina hears the horse, that has been resting, get up. It looks uneasy, and backs off further down the beach. She hears something moving on the lakeshore. Looking east, she can see - actually it’s not within her darkvision range. But she hears something move. The DM gives her a free turn.

Should she wake us? She uses her action to do that. Kessler kicks Ahleqs, and sets off her Alarm manually. Ahleqs does indeed scream when he wakes up, and that scream is the verbal part of the Mage Armour spell.

Tarragon is up first, with a natural 20 initiative. She moves a little closer and sees the edge of the thing; it’s big. She casts Greater Shldgljdfkajsdadabbllhh, and readies an attack. As soon as it’s within walloping distance, she will wallop it.

Kessler moves up next to Tarragon and takes a shot with her crossbow. (If it comes up “Kessler shoots at Tarrasque” Ahleqs is just going to start running.) Nat 20! Poke in the belly, triple damage. Tarragon fist-bumps her. Her second shot misses. She goes for higher ground, making a DEX check - 9, which is ‘good enough’.

Are we starting from prone since we just woke up, because Ardvack wants to know how far away he can run on his turn? No, because Melaina took her free turn to wake us so we had a chance to stand up before combat began.

Popcorn runs forward and sits on his back legs, roars at the thing and readies an attack.

An Assassin hits Ardvack out of nowhere for 17, which hits. He makes a CON save against the poison. Matthew, OOC: “Is that absolutely necessary?” Joe: “Absolutely vital.”

He fails, taking 8 piercing and 26 poison, as well as 14 sneak attack damage. What the fuhhhhh…

Whatever did that slips back into the shadows. It’s rolled a blinder of a stealth check. Ardvack looks down at the arrow and says “Oh. Um…”

Ahleqs is up. “Well this has changed things.” He finishes casting Mage Armour, and moves up next to Tarragon, believing her to be scarier than whatever is attacking.

Grease Wizard. Normally he would Grease something, that’s the go-to move. What was the trajectory of the arrow, Sophie wants to know? Which way is it pointing out of Ardvack? Ardvack makes an Insight check but rolls a 5; he can’t remember which way he was facing when he was hit. He notes that he might insta-die if that happens again.

Joe lets us know that he will put the assassin token on the map when it attacks; we are to watch our screens. If it rolls a good Stealth (above all our passive perceptions) it will disappear again.

Gideon Thunderwaves the scorpion - oh, so that’s what it is. Nope, because it’s too far away. Sophie goes for Magic Missile instead for 12 damage.

It’s Pinchy’s go. We are not fans of Pinchy. It moves towards us.

Gideon, seeing the thing bearing down on him: “It wasn’t me who sent the Magic Missile - you want the green one!”

It seizes him in one claw. 22 hits, Gideon takes 16 bludgeoning and is grappled. Pinchy reaches around with the other claw and tries to pinch a bit off the wizard to eat. 20 hits for 13 more damage. Finding the flesh a bit solid, he tries to tenderise the dwarf with a little sting. 6 piercing and a CON save, on which he has Advantage because he’s a dwarf. He rolls 14, making the save, halving it, and his dwarven Constitution halves it again to five. Phew.

Melaina is up. She can have sneak attack damage, and hides so she can get Advantage as well. 22 to hide.

Duncan, OOC and laughing: “Wind up that damage machine, get it tickin’ over nice.”

19 to hit. Nat 1 on Sharpshooter damage, which is still somehow 22. Plus 11 piercing. She hits it squarely in the carapace, and hears an audible crack. Something yellow starts to ooze up out of the wound.

Usha, seeing what Ahleqs did, lets out a shriek of her own. She looks around for the assassin but can’t see anything. She hides behind the tent and tries again to locate the assassin, but doesn’t roll high enough.

Ardvack and Melaina see the merchant’s head appear from the tent. He can’t see the scorpion. Still they hear, “nopenopenopenope” and he ties the tent shut.

Ardvack can’t think of anything clever to do. “Um… … … Right.” Oooh! He will summon Admiral Pancakes! (His owl familiar.) The Admiral splits his movement between running and flying but it’s all low to the ground and all furious.

Ardvack hunkers down near the tent and the cart - no, he’s lying down. He’s prone. He’s as low as you can get and has 9 HP left. He chugs a potion.

Carl is next. Did Carl notice where the arrow came from? He rolled really bad Perception. He rolls Insight to see if he can remember. A five; he doesn’t remember. He gets up and goes for the scorpion but can’t reach it. Also, he doesn’t have a mace any more.

Tarragon Rages and runs up to attack Pinchy Recklessly, doing only nine damage. Her scream of rage becomes a little uncertain. She shakes her Shilleblglhlskfgghj’ed quarterstaff. “Come on!!”

Kessler would like to whale on the assassin. Is there a way to look for them? It would take her turn to Investigate, but they will be placed on the map if she finds them. She can point them out to us, in other words. She decides against that. Is she above the scorpion now that she's scrambled up the terrain? She would be, but it’s really big. Could she jump onto it?

She gets the classic reply: “… You can certainly try."

She rolls Acrobatics and gets a 17 - she makes it onto its back. She punches it with her Thunder Gauntlets. (The way the tokens are arranged, it looks as though the scorpion has Kessler’s head.)

24 to hit! and 6 Thunder damage. She goes for another attack. (We all start singing Thundercats, but now it’s Thundergoblin.) She throws in Fury of the Small as well, yelling “Yeehaa!” as she does so. It’s looking damaged now. Mina: “Excellent.”

It’s Popcorn’s turn - he runs up, sees the scorpion is bigger than he thought, slashes at it and misses, and runs away. No Opportunity attack, as Kessler and Tarragon are in melee with it.

The assassin makes some attacks against Melaina. The others see the token, briefly, but Tarragon and Popcorn are facing the wrong way. Melaina uses her Uncanny Dodge on the second attack - she did not see the first as it went into her back. She fails her CON save taking 8 piercing, 30 poison and 14 sneak attack - and she’s down. Not insta-dead but out. The second attack doesn’t come, because the assassin moves to hit Ardvack with it instead.

18 hits him. (It’s not fun when the other team have assassins.) He makes a quick Perception check as the sword plunges into his sternum - he sees pointy ears and greyish skin. A drow? 7 piercing and 24 poison. He makes the CON save regardless.

It slurs into his ear - “in the name of the Lady of Loss” as he slips into unconsciousness. If he survives he can make a History check on that. His dying cry is “Carl! Save them!”

Ahleqs’s turn. He heard a yelp from Melaina and another one from somewhere behind him. He gets a bit closer - but not too much closer - to try and find the assassin. He has Advantage but must roll above a 24 (the assassin’s stealth roll). He rolls a 19. Dammit! He sees Usha absolutely petrified, and both Melaina and Ardvack down and bleeding heavily in the flickering firelight.

Gideon is up - he’s still grappled. He can hit Pinchy with a spell but will likely hit Kessler as well - we decide Ed and Gideon would probably be fine with that. Sophie decides to do as the Grease Wizard would. With a cry of “Unhand me foul beast!”, he casts Grease on himself, and the DM lets him make an attempt to break free at advantage on the same turn. He rolls an 8. Oh well. He remains Greased and can try again next turn.

It’s Pinchy’s turn. He drops Gideon and has a go at grabbing the creature on its back and the creature menacing it from the ground. It goes for a sting attack against Kessler - 18 misses. 11 also misses, but 18 hits Tarragon, who is grappled but halves the bludgeoning damage to 7 because of her rage. Pinchy doesn’t like the thing on its back so it moves, forcing a DEX save from Kessler to remain in place. She passes the save, clinging on as it moves.

Melaina passes her first death save with a 13. She doesn’t use the Advantage granted by Tarragon’s meal, yet.

Usha moves to have another look for the assassin, but can’t find it.

Charity makes a death save - a nat 1 - two failures.

Matthew, sounding slightly panicky: “It’s okay, it’s okay! I’ve got this under control!”

He doesn’t have advantage because he didn’t eat the meal; me, OOC: “That’s what you get for being petty.”

Carl’s turn. Can he do mouth to mouth? He can, but it’s gross. You don’t want him to do it. Carl is furious; a lot of the things that have been going on of late have been leaving him out. He will hit the scorpion with punches. Pinchy McScorpingtons dodges Carl’s 17 to attack. That upsets Carl.

Tarragon doesn’t bother to try to break free but attacks from where she is - and misses. She still has no idea that Charity and Melaina are both down.

The hero of the realm, Admiral Pancakes, enters the fray. He has advantage on Perception checks, so he might be able to find the assassin…? He rolls a 9. Oh well.

It’s down to Kessler. “Save the day!” She has another go at cracking the carapace of the scorpion open with her Thunder Gauntlets. “Put down the crazed druid!” 26 hits for 7 Thunder damage, and she goes for another one. 22 and 12 Thunder damage. It’s very damaged - she gets yellow gunk as splash back. “This is nothing; I’ve seen Gideon.”

Popcorn runs up and slashes it with his claws - he hits for 7 damage. It doesn’t die, so he backs off again. Carl pats him on the head.

The assassin makes another attack - against Usha, and 16 hits. He reveals himself, and Ahleqs sees him. Usha takes 7 piercing and 31 poison - it’s not quite an insta-death, but only by the skin of her knickers. She shrieks and drops like a sack of shit.

What’s Ahleqs’s Passive Perception? 13. The assassin rolls a 16 and is hidden again. But Ahleqs only needs to beat a 16 to spot him, and it’s his turn. He sees Charity on the ground with red bubbles coming out of his mouth. It’s probably not cherry hubba bubba, he decides. He kneels down next to him and administers his only healing potion. Charity regains consciousness, and 8 HP. He feels a bit less dead. Ahleqs: “Help!” He runs back; that’s all he’s got. Charity thanks him, bubbles of blood running down his chin.

Gideon is still heavily Greased, but has been dropped so he is free. He shoots a Scorching Ray at the scorpion, hoping he will miss Kessler as the spell has one target. He must roll for each Ray. Sophie, OOC: "So two on the scorpion and one on Kessler, yeah?"

Gideon shouts “Don’t worry, I’ll save you, goblin!” He does 7 fire damage. “You got in the way, goblin!” One of his attacks is a natural 1 so he rolls on the crit magic fail table. Where did that come from? If this attack deals cold, fire, force, lightning or thunder damage; an elemental (chosen by the DM) appears within 60 feet of you. It is hostile to all creatures. Joe picks water, as we’re next to a lake.

Greeeeeaaaaaat.

We need David Hasselhoff for this. Or Zoidberg…?

Joe has Sophie roll a d4, and whatever she rolls is however many rounds the elemental remains for. She rolls a 3. Well…

It’s Pinchy’s turn. Gideon was past his best, and Pinchy is still snackish. It makes a sting attack against Carl - 16 to hit. Well his AC is 9, so… yes? But he is immune to poison, so he only takes 8 piercing damage. It rakes a claw against Kessler and misses. It tightens its other claw around Tarragon - 22 definitely hits. 16 bludgeoning, which she halves to 8.

Melaina makes another death save - and rolls 17. Matthew: “If you roll a 20 you can come back with - ” Sophie, OOC, voice full of hope: “Super powers?” Matthew: “… One hit point.”

Admiral Pancakes perches on Gideon’s shoulder, and hoots aggressively into his face, but can’t do anything this turn.

Usha makes a death save.

It’s Charity’s turn - he wants to know who’s worse off out of Melaina and Usha, without giving away how alive he himself is, in case the assassin is watching. Sadly Ahleqs screamed aloud what he was doing as he fed Charity the potion, asking consent to do so. (Duncan makes a Henry Crabgrass reference; only I laugh.)

Charity carefully heals Melaina, flinching back from any retaliatory punches that might fly his way. He learned his lesson in the bar fight. He slams a potion and hunkers down again.

Carl does a punch. He punches. Or does he? No - Brother Carl disengages from the scorpion, and makes his way somewhere behind Tarragon so I don’t see where. He holds an attack in case the assassin shows up, at which point he will go full zombie and pull their face all the way off.

Tarragon hits again for 19 bludgeoning damage. “‘Ave that, you scaly fucker.” It’s still not dead! “How???”

As a free action, Joe has Kessler make a Perception check. She rolls an 8. Oh well. She wants this thing to die, so she aims another punch at the soft jelly bit inside where she cracked the carapace last round.

She rolls two nat 1s. Butterfingers. You lose your grip mid-swing and your weapon goes flying 1d4+1x5ft away in the direction of your target. She has gauntlets which can’t really come off so Joe rules that they malfunction. It doesn’t do any Thunder damage for the next round, it becomes bludgeoning instead. She does 6 damage; it’s haggard as all hell, but still up.

It’s Popcorn’s turn - he runs up to the elemental and slashes it with his claws. Not knowing he shouldn’t, he backs up and it takes an attack of opportunity against him - but it misses. He notices that his claws didn’t do as much damage as they should…

And we’ve still got an assassin that no-one’s fuckin’ touched. Speaking of - it attacks Tarragon and hits. She makes the CON save and halves the poison, and she’s raging so she halves the sneak and piercing damage as well. 21 total, bringing her down to 26 total HP.

It’s Ahleqs’ turn. He, being a character that is not optimised, casts Shatter on the elemental. Or he could Banish it, if he can come up with an item that is distasteful to it? Is there anything absorbent nearby, cotton or fleece - or a rag. Yeah! It fails the save and is Banished.

Grease Wizard is up. What’s he going to do… He does a Scorching Ray on the scorpion - all three hit, yay! He does 24 damage - How de do dis! Sophie: “He falls apart into a sort of flurry of little bits and bits of shell and Kessler ends up in the middle of it all stinky, wearing a little shell as a crown.”

We all make perception checks - All of us but Carl and Kessler hear a snarling in elvish (drow, specifically) which is mostly expletives. Those that can see, see a flash of darkness, like the opposite of a flash of light, for a moment and then gone. It looked to be a kind of magic, but the magic users don’t sense any disturbance in the Weave.

Ahleqs: “Was it like ‘ah, fuck it!’ *explosion*?” He rolls 18 Arcana. It was cursing us for murdering its pet. Ahleqs thinks it was a spell, but there was no associated disturbance. The assassin seems to have retreated, however.

Charity heals Usha; she is incredibly grateful. The merchant emerges from the tent. Kessler loots the scorpion, finding a couple of platinum pieces. Tarragon rolls 12 Perception - she sees a marking on the back of the scorpion’s head. She wipes away some goo and makes a Religion check.

It is a black sigil inside a purple ring - an emblem of Shar. Uh oh… Charity makes a Religion check as well, remembering what the assassin said to him (“In the name of the lady of loss”) but rolls a nat 1 for 2 total. He mutters out loud about it, but doesn’t make the connection. Kessler and Ahleqs roll good religion checks. Ahleqs, hearing Charity’s words, is terrified. That was a reference to Shar.

Joe wraps up there as it’s getting late. Before we finish though, we continue another four days travel and catch our first glimpse of Candlekeep…

Matthew will hopefully pick up next week with his new campaign! It bothers Mina greatly that he doesn’t want us to roll our own stats; this likely an intentional effect.

#dnd #campaign diary #thetradeway

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