#for a time it felt like people thought a kudos was a replacement for a comment

[dduane]

i’ve always thought it was really cool how honest you are on this website. i think a lot of the time when writers become established or well known, people who aren’t professional writers, or perhaps are writers but have not published anything or amassed a following tend to think that there’s a point when writing becomes easy. but i think you’ve always been pretty upfront and clear about how that is incredibly not true. writing will still be hard sometimes. i just think that’s neat

Thanks.

I’ve been getting paid for this work for forty years now, and I’m here to tell you that even in previous decades, when there always seemed more than enough energy for whatever needed doing, my work was never something I’d have dared characterize as “easy.” (Not least because I always knew such a description, no matter how jokingly I might have voiced it, would have been tempting fate.) ...And having just turned seventy, while these days I have to manage my energy resources a bit more carefully to get done what needs doing, the work’s still not easy.

Sure, some tasks associated with the Work become less troublesome to manage simply because you’ve met and managed them so many times now. Some problems that you’ve solved repeatedly enough become simpler to untangle... sometimes to the point that you don’t even have to think about how to manage things when they pop up. Some mistakes that you made too many times in previous years have also become easier to avoid over time (the way you learn to avoid riding your bike right at a brick wall after the first few times, no matter how you want to show up the person who dared you to. Pain’s a great teacher...).

But the everlasting search for the perfect word, or exactly the right character voice, or the quintessential viewpoint, or the most satisfying plot twist for this particular story, never gets any easier. Solve one of these challenges, and another will promptly present itself. This work is not meant to get easy, because growth isn’t easy... and the good writer is always growing and learning. The last thing you want to hear is “His/her/their book is just another version of the one before. They’ve gone stagnant. They’ve stopped trying.” And my concern is that the thought or feeling “That was easy” at the end of a project would be a sure sign that something or other was going very wrong.

There’s this, too. When too many things start becoming easy, there’s a risk of losing the one thing about a completed writing project that can’t be taken from you: your (rightful!) sense of accomplishment. At the end of the day, that’s the only prize that really matters. Yeah, you get paid when you turn work in. (Or not, if you’re laboring at the fanfic end of things.) But money (or kudos) cannot replace the intimate personal knowledge of what you did, and how you got it done. Outside rewards are no equal to the memory of how you sized up the task lying before you—the way a mountaineer sizes up a peak—or  the way you plotted out how you were going to tackle it: and how you then, step by step, pitch by pitch and crag by crag, embark on your fic’s or novel’s or screenplay’s conquest. The view from the top, months later, when you’re up there looking down over the way you’ve come, wouldn’t be anything like as satisfying if it had felt easy.

So I’m quite happy to keep a good tight grip on the sense of the Work sometimes being hard. When things fail to go as planned—because of life issues, or executing a batch of material and finding out after the fact that it’s all wrong, or discovering that the emphasis of your project has changed in some way you never expected—then the ways you find to shift and cope and get through to your goal are proof that you’re still growing, still learning new ways to get it done. The sense of difficulty, by this metric, is way more valuable as proof of growing expertise than any sense of things being, or getting, easy.

Anyway: thanks for the kind words. They’re much appreciated.  :)

#writing #It's not easy #and that's fine by me

[that-sweet-thief]

just finished binge-watching season 2 of shadow and bone. my thoughts are mostly in disarray but the cringe is real.

this was an off-paced, haphazard fanfiction. it'd be just fine if the writers weren't paid for it but they actually are, so it's just... wow. I'm at best mediocre when writing in english and i reckon even i would do a better job of writing dialogue.

anyway, here's a list of my thoughts on the show, though it's more of a word vomit than a comprehensive series review:

no ivan or fedyor. immediate downvote for that alone. ivan should've survived so we could have a heartbreaking moment between him and fedyor across the two sides of the battlefield. i guess they thought there were too many characters and couples to juggle already. or maybe the actors weren't available, who knows.

costume design took a surprising turn for the worse: for example, nina's and zoya's dresses were eyesores. how anyone could make these two very attractive women look that frumpy i've no idea but they've managed. i liked sankta neyar's costume, sturmhond's coat aaand that's about it.

the settings were more varied, so glad we've seen a little of bhez ju. the introductory map-to-location shots were very helpful for people who haven't read the books, namely my gf who fell asleep halfway through the show. also, if the music had any tracks that weren't already from the first season i'll be incredibly surprised, it's that repetitive.

they've messed up nikolai as a character mainly because the actor misunderstood his assignment, though i don't know what else he could've done with the mess he was given. while he's still sympathetic, lovely and witty, paddy's nikolai thinks of sturmhond as just another disguise, rather than who he really is, to the point of gifting said disguise to mal. that's irreconcilable with my understanding of nikolai, whose real mask is the bastard prince.

tamar & tolya were better realised than expected. along with the exclusion of the soldat sol cult, their zealotry's scrapped which is a big win for them. i enjoyed their scenes, great casting too. though, as an ardent kanej fan, i cannot in good conscience support the blink-and-you'll-miss-it tolya/inej moment. tamar/nadia had maybe a minute of screen time but better than nothing.

sankta neyar was a pleasant surprise, great idea to show how powerful durasts can also be. people often disregard materialki so this was refreshing. what i liked about her is how formal, collected, old-fashioned she both appeared and acted, as if her manners and speech style were leftover from a few centuries ago, kudos to her actor tuyen do.

the crows' arc was... lacking in some way. maybe it's because pekka rollins' attitude towards kaz and his group is very different than how it was established in the books, here he was way too proactive and less secure in his position in ketterdam for some reason; anyway rollins' framing of the crows felt off to me.

the crows' character dynamics are interesting and the saving grace of the show, all kanej and wesper scenes were great. seriously, the tension of kanej & cuteness of wesper nearly destroyed me.

they did helnik dirty, of course, but that was a given.

freddy carter outperformed everyone this season, i really think out of all of them he's given the best performance, sometimes even better than ben barnes and that's practically heresy coming from me, his devoted fan since ages ago when i first saw narnia.

i kinda dig that they brought in a tidemaker (fruszi) who's practically an early version of zoya for the darkling's side but her death felt cheap. i mean, the crows arriving to help out nikolai and his team at the very last second was already eye roll inducing, but then nikolai shoots her in the neck? cheap. also, if she and zoya came to face off that'd be interesting since they share so many similarities. i personally don't think it will but if the series continued along with the darkling's canon resurrection, i wish she'd lived and replaced elizaveta, she certainly seemed devoted enough.

david and genya made me cry. that's all i have to say on them.

baghra... where do i even start with her? baghra's nonchalance, her one-eighty about deciding to help alina find more amplifiers is stark raving bonkers imho. yet at least most of her scenes weren't as bad as they could've been, her proving to mal he was the firebird and her saving genya as well as alina actually came across better than the ultra passive, constantly berating version in the books. her death felt less dramatic but more spiteful, though aleksander's reaction to her death was appropriately heartbreaking. ben & zoe sold it so well, my eyes actually welled up.

speaking of sasha, his death is soooo badly executed, it's impossible not to be pissed off at the way they filmed it. even the books were more sympathetic to his demise and alina herself showed much more empathy for him at the end. it's genuinely disturbing how they framed it, makes alina seem more like a villain than the reluctant hero she used to be. i guess it fits with the surprise ending: how she kinda becomes what she sought to destroy, poetic irony and all, but still...

aleksander's whole arc this season makes him seem more desperate and pathetic and so, less of a tyrant: he doesn't even take control of the country or more than a small group of grisha let alone become tsar, instead the apparat rules over ravka on behalf of the lantsovs till nikolai is coronated. he and his people constantly lose to some clever last minute thwarting by alina's allies. the only thing scary about him is the nichevo'ya, the shadow monsters, which in the books are entirely under his control and that of course makes it all the more terrifying. here though, sick and tired and dying, he's merely desperate and fearful. the lack of wins on aleksandr's part really defeats the purpose of the writers' continuous attempts at making him simply the most terrible, horrifying and supreme villain of gregverse.

nope, can't get over it, aleksander practically died in her arms in the books, here she just looks down at him like she's the villain. i guess she now is. oh and mal's retort to sasha about dying in her arms was somehow a foreshadowing, see, but sasha doesn't get that because he's evil, see? gosh, so patronising.

since they've constantly emphasised this season how it was the fold's and thus sasha's fault that grisha were persecuted (not that this explains the ceaseless mistreatment, endangerment and more often death that grisha face everywhere they go, of course, nor does it explain his backstory) i gathered they'd go for a retcon but i didn't imagine they'd exonerate baghra, the apparat and tie the border wars with shu han and fjerda to the fold's existence entirely. the reason the war broke out in the first place was because those countries' fundamental approach to grisha was to kill them or worse. that is what grisha persecution meant. and now... what, the war is over, just like that? i have no words.

also, the exclusion of the "don't let me be alone" line. now that I think about it, those writers should be fed to nichevo'ya.

alina, alina, alina... sure, she's a self-insert, so her motivations don't make sense anyway, but as sweet as jessie is and how hard she tries, show!alina is now an equally awful mess as book!alina. the two things i liked about her this season were her manipulation attempt through the tether and the ending where she goes a bit darkling. the latter, i really like. i wrote a fragment of a power reversal fic before but never put it up, might just do that now.

i'll admit: it's rather funny how mal dumps alina after losing his amplification because he doesn't feel the same way anymore. he doesn't know if it was him being an amplifier that made them love one another. see how easily he turns away from alina? if i were aleksander, I'd be laughing at her from the grave.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #season 2 shadow and bone #season 2 spoilers #the grisha trilogy #book spoilers #siege and storm spoilers #ruin and rising spoilers #kind of a review #kind of a rant #mostly word vomit #grishaverse #pro darkling #anti baghra #make it make sense #at least the ending is better #aside from the way aleksander dies #anti s&b writers

[sebfreak]

Watashi no Shiawase na Kekkon or My happy marriage Ep6:

Ah to read all these angry comments made me very happy and I can understand why so many said that it was a blood boiling episode. :D I can only speak for myself but I was very relaxed because my anger is so big against this whole family that I don´t feel anything anymore. And I don´t write down my inner thoughts while seeing all these ugly people.

But what happened that made so many angry? Well a lot of things happened and I´m so glad that they didn´t shorten this whole situation because otherwise we couldn´´t have felt these emotion we felt. Miyo was kidnapped and then abused and then saved. This is a very short explanation before I go more into details.

Can you believe that there are people who try to do everything to get what they want? And it doesn´t matter how ridiculous their goal is. Yeah, we all heard at least once this one motto or words: "No matter how small your goal is, you´ll have to fight for it." Yeah in a positive way it can be quite motivating but we are speaking here for this single damn goal: "Snap away Miyos financee and replacing here because he is far more beautiful." And for that they kidnap her and abuse her physically and psychologically. Like they did in the past. And for me this is really sick but on the other hand I´m not surprised. This whole family is so bitter so they can´t do anything else than make people feel worse and insult them and try to point out that they are nothing important in life. Miyo is FAR BETTER than this whole family but she never ever thought that specifically. Miyo didn´t think of her own: "Oh I´m better than my family."

More like it was the opposite case, she always felt way worse and thought: "Oh I don´t deserve anything they (Kudos family ---> yes I see Yurie and Kudo as a whole family) gave me."

But now that they saw how good her life is in the new family they can´t accept it because they really thought they could throw her out like trash. So they try to remember her where she comes from and that she can´t flee from her past. But if you ask me then I would say: She is better because she doesn´t feel toxic jealousy. And she has every right to think like that that she is better than these creatures.

Yeah the classical: "You were always a victim and our punching bag and I won´t accept that you can easily forget us, so I have to remind you again where you come from." I mean it´s kinda cute that they try to use this method and make her regret again. They do all these things they did to her in the past but this time it will be different and I love how we could follow it. Also it was great to see the change in Miyo but her toxic abusing family didn´t change a single tiny thing.

If you ask me, it was kinda cute that they thought, they could fight against Kudo-sama. XD He isn´t a monster just because he is way stronger than these old geezers. He is angry and also he is protecting himself because he wants to save Miyo. Also he is a general, like... isn´t it kinda good when he is that strong? And another thing but this might sound kinda crazy. I liked the fact that they made a wall as an attack and Kudo broke down this wall with easiness. For me it was a great metaphor to show us how easily he changes Miyos life (in a positive way).

I really loved this scene. So satisfying and they deserved every second of it. XDDDD Like I mean the whole family is shit but these two old men are the main reason for all these things. Miyos father who needed a new woman and brought these two toxic female characters in this household and the other one who just see Miyo as a tool to gain and strenghten his power. F** THEM!!!!!

Yeah and who do you think you are? People who force you to play a role in this world are the worst. They are so damn toxic and I hate them from the bottom of my heart. Nobody should force Miyo and YOU to take a specific place in this world, okay?

Another satisfying moment. The father on his knees beside his burning house he had all these years. Yeah maybe he worked very hard for that and tried to protect it but now after one mistake he lost everything and I don´t feel sad at all. He deserves it after all these years of ignoring the abusement. This is his punishment.

Miyo remembering Kudo and gaining her strengh to withstand all this shit she has to endure. (sorry for my language) This was one of my most favourite scenes. He gave her self confidence and made her stronger because he showed her what true kindness is and yeah that people are out there who truly love her.

Indeed he came because he isn´t the type of person who break his promises. <3

A wonderful, beautiful and great pic. The women who tries to take everything for herself and her ugly daughter, has lost everything and can only observe the fires which are destroying the house she invaded. Now she has lost EVERYTHING. On the other hand you can see it as: Oh everything burns down that doesn´t belong to her, because she didn´t help her husband to build this house. She was never a part of it.

Really great. I was very happy to see it. <3 :D

Oh and with ugly I mean the personality. For me there is appearance beauty and character beauty. And yeah these two women are the most ugly people I´ve ever seen. (personality wise)

Hmmmmm he is angry and soooo sexy. <3 I really love it how protective he is AND he made it very clear that he will never ever marry such an arrogant woman. Also, this is the thing that I always wanna see. Straight to the point and not long dialogues which are very vague in the end!!!!!

Yeah everything is burning, so you can also see it as: "Miyo has lost now everything!" But on the other hand she gained so much more. So maybe it´s also a new beginning after closing an old chapter. <3

So, for some people it´s a completely end but for some others it´s a new start to build a new home which is far way more better than the old one. And I´m 100% here for that. :D

Why is it that always really old people are the most shittiest characters in an anime? XDDDDD (okay this is a little exaggeration but you know what i mean) He is soooo damn old and yet he doesn´t wanna let go of his powers. And yep I´m scared what they meant with operation....

He slept by her side the whole time. <3 Somehow while watching this scene I had to remember the words you hear when marrying someone: "in good times and in bad". (not sure if it´s worldwide but in germany they ask the couple these words before they marry each other) And yeah this was a bad time and yet he was there and protected her and stood by her side.

She deserves a good hug because she thought it was her fault. But it wasn´t and she was so worried. :( Poor Yurie.

Well that was episode 6 and I´m really looking forward for episode 7. <3

#watashi no shiawase na kekkon #my happy marriage #kiyoka kudou #miyo saimori #yurie

[gra-sonas]

I deeply apologise for this, I honestly don’t have anyone else to talk to about this and you’re so nice and kind that I feel like I could do it with you. Please, ignore me if you want to, you don’t have to answer or post this. I’ve recently started writing fics (my first time doing it), and I’ve published 3 of them so far. But I cannot help but feel like they are bad, that I shouldn’t be writing them. I don’t get many "hits" and the ones that I get, don’t leave kudos or anything which makes me think that people hated it. They are "short" (the longest one has 4000 words) and I feel that that is not enough. I’m just having a hard time. I know that I shouldn’t care about if people like it, if they comment or leave kudos because I’m writing for me and all of that. But I really can’t help feeling like shit about it and comparing myself with other fic-writers out there. And every day I’m struggling with the idea of wanting to just delete everything. Maybe I just don’t have the mental state to deal with things like these and maybe I should just stop. Thank you for reading and I’m sorry again, you don’t have to answer this. Have a great day!

First of all, there's no need to apologize for anything, nonnie. *sends you a looooooooooooong virtual hug*

Secondly, I'm so sorry that you're feeling the way you do. Putting any kind of creativity out there is always nerve-wracking, especially when you're "new" to doing it. I can imagine how difficult this must be for you, especially bc you don't have anyone to talk to about it.

When I posted my first fic (well, technically not the very first, but the handful of things I wrote long before RNM don't really count imo) 3 years ago, I was dying inside. If it hadn't been for lovely fandom friends, I NEVER would've posted it.

As a non-native English speaker I always felt inadequate/not articulate enough to write in English, plus a million other things I thought my writing was lacking, so I never even tried (before RNM I hadn't written anything in over a decade). Until Malex came along and the urge to write was so overwhelming that I gave it a shot.

And man, I'm so happy that I did. But again, I only posted it bc I had friends who beta-read it for me, who encouraged me and told me it wasn't in fact crap. And lo and behold, I've written a couple more fics over time, and I feel more confident about it nowadays (still dying inside tho when I post something new, that will probably never change :P).

Something that's really hard is not comparing your own writing to that of other writers - especially those who get tons of kudos and comments. In that same regard, it's really hard not to compare the number of hits and kudos your fics are getting to the numbers other writers' writing generates.

Anyway, comparing ourselves to others, that way madness (and unhappiness) lies. Looking at other writers' writing as an inspiration, YES, comparing our own writing to that of others, NO. Easier said than done, I know. :/

Anyway, I think what could be really helpful to you, is joining one of RNM (I'm assuming that you're writing RNM fic, if not, please replace that with the fandom you're writing for) Discord servers. Many fandom writers gather there, chat about fics, bounce ideas around, organize writing sprints, offer beta-reading, and so on. Getting input from others is just so cool and reassuring.

Additional plus: when you post a new fic, there are already a couple of people who know about it and they are often willing to signal-boost a new fic with reblogs.

As for the length of your fics: 4K is amazing, but by far not a necessary word count to attract readers. Most of my fics are shorter, and while I'm certainly not the queen of Kudos/comments, people are kind enough to read my fics. So, really, shorter fics are absolutely okay.

I really hope you'll reconsider re deleting everything. It would be a loss - for the fandom, but also for yourself. You put a lot of work into writing these stories, be kind to yourself and just take the [current] lack of "interaction" for what it is: you are new to this, and most people probably just haven't realized that there's a new writer in town. (Also, if you're writing RNM fic... fandom is still in total hibernation mode, I really hope that changes when S4 starts airing)

Sending you lots of love and writerly encouragement, nonnie. Please keep writing. Please keep putting yourself out there. And most importantly: find "your people", a "cheerleading squad" (and if it's just a squad of one person, squad is squad!) that has your back.

YOU CAN DO IT, I BELIEVE IN YOU! ❤️

P.S.: Funny enough but I'm not a member of any of the open RNM Discord servers, so, if anyone knows of a server or even runs one, please drop a link in the comments or send me a DM and I'll add a link to this post, thanks! 🙌

#nonnie asks

[effortlessdeer]

Overall thoughts on “Clouds on the Horizon” so SPOILERS AHOY!

I really am freaked out at how casual Belos is about replacing Hunter. Also does the collector really think someone who can throw away people like that will keep his end of the bargain? Obviously later he expresses doubt.

Kiki getting demoted was good to see at first since she’s so terrible, but it makes me wonder who is the coven head then? I’m also still confused as to how the Emperor’s coven fits into all of this. They are not one of the 9 that the draining spell seems to require. Will they alone be saved?

Odalia really threatening to divorce her husband early on is yikes. Man I can’t believe she thinks she will be spared and is going along with the whole plan. She is far worse than I thought. Also saying that Luz wasn’t good enough for her daughter was terrible. By the end of the episode I really just wanted Alador to take his kids and be like I’ll see you in court. Also King is MVP for telling Alador. Without him they would have been screwed.

About the CATS plan, at first I was really confused about why they didn’t insist on using Lilith, but then I remembered that her coven sigil for the emperor’s coven probably renders her unable to take Raine’s place or anyone else’s given it seems the emperor’s coven isn’t part of the draining spell or at least must be a different function.

Seeing Luz make a palisman egg was not something I expected as of course it’s something we didn’t know could be done. The palisman choosing it’s form. Ah the suspense! I really wanted to see what it was.

Eda was giving off death flags, with her goodbye to Luz. Her getting a coven sigil felt so wrong. I hope they find a way later ok to remove them. I really liked Luz asking Raike to watch out for Eda. I really hope they can keep them safe, but it seems that unsurprisingly that Belos knew about CATS. My guess is Terra never bought Raine’s acting which Darius said was terrible, and it last episode their cover was blown from Luz’s argument/rescue. Terra might have even recognized Eda when she noticed her terrible disguise.

Seeing the Hexside squad all together including Hunter was great! Poor kid is terrified though and like I thought is keeping the grimwalker thing to himself. So confirmed even more that he’s a clone of the dead brother and that Philip killed him. Grimwalker seem more like homunculus. One of the books he was reading in labyrinth runners was called grimwalker extinction. I kind of wonder if they were like a common trope inDungeons and dragons and were a race that was created to be slaves and they rebelled and were destroyed. Good to know he did hear the human and witch hunter thing though. Gosh that makes his fear of Belos even more real and understandable because that means he also heard Belos say he was going to make a new grimwalker to replace him. Man I’m so sad we aren’t getting a proper season 3. This feels like Zuko joining the gaang at the last half of the season and not getting a lot of time with the squad.

Luz and Amity were so cute. Also the animation step up on that kiss was crazy. Kudos to the staff for this on screen LGBT+ rep!

Man that fight at the end was cool! Also really cool to see oracle magic on display. I knew something was up after Luz whispered to Gus and then “Luz” uses Hunter’s teleport to save Willow which we have never seen her do, Gus having illusions up, then “Hunter” was acting a bit too Luz like. Willow practically was ready to tear Kiki to shreds to save Hunter. She is crazy strong. When I saw the robot take off I got really scared for Hunter, but then I saw “Luz” continuing to not use glyphs and had a fists up pose and I realized what happened. Luz is such a kind person protecting Hunter(although she also probably wanted to go directly to Belos for Eda’s sake)

Willow and Amity were ready to chase down Kiki. Alaador being a good person saying he would welcome Luz. And yeah now the plan is revealed. I wonder if Hunter will be able to go along to rescue Luz. I’m sure he wants to, but he is terrified to face Belos. Will he have enough courage? I think he will, maybe with some encouragement from the squad. Maybe even tell them the grimwalker thing? They have yet to say that it was Belos’s brother so I am expediting that to be dramatically revealed to the characters next episode.Although I almost wonder if they will be able to do anything… there is gonna be a lot going on next episode.

Luz I think will probably free the collector to save Eda and that’s how she gets posed like everyone was theorizing l. King’s connection to the collector….I wonder if it will extend to Luz if she gets possessed.

What a great episode!

Next episode is gonna be a doozy….

#the owl house #clouds on the horizon #eda the owl lady #luz noceda #king clawthorne #grimwalker #hunter #amity

[whereistheonepiece]

It feels nice to leave a comment on a fic that's been out for a while but sadly doesn't have any comments. I see it as a small act of kindness.

#i do have to say that is the reason why it took me years to start posting fics on ao3 regularly #for a time it felt like people thought a kudos was a replacement for a comment #but also i do have to admit i was writing some niche stuff #you only get comments on niche stuff if you have a friend who is into niche stuff #or if you have a bit of a following with a few people willing to follow you down unfamiliar paths #i feel like i may have finally become the latter? #but anyway yeah i kind of avoided regularly putting my fics on ao3 for years #and then i started writing to run and then only one person commented on it #and i was like 'okay no more posting on this website' #personal

[jaskiersvalley]

(Season 2 spoilers)

So I've started watching S2 and I want your opinion. They really make Eskel show up for one episode, be a jerk and then die. After your writing I felt attached to him and thought this was very unfair. They didn't even really give him scars!

I will pop this under a cut because, as you say, spoilers for Season 2! It is also a bit of a ramble, oops.

Okay, I spent quite a bit of time thinking about this, the show, and Eskel as a whole. After watching the show my kneejerk reaction honestly was that Episode 2 just didn't happen. But I've done a fair bit of reflecting, reading and picking through things and have come to several conclusions.

1. The show hasn't taken Eskel away from the fandom. We're still here, still loving Goat Dad and his polite, succubus fucking, fisstech taking ways. If we're being realistic, the show was never going to give us fanon Eskel. But what can it do for us? Bring more people to fanon. There wasn't enough of Eskel in the show for there to be an exceptional amount of content for him but there was enough to maybe pique interest for some viewers. They'll come to fanon for more Eskel content, maybe hoping for a fix-it and they'll find us here, welcoming them with loving arms and showing them our interpretation.

2. He was a dick in the episode where he turns up, which is not at all the side we see of him (what little there is) in the books or the games. But let's try to put it into perspective. He's just come off the Path, got home. On his way up encounters a weird Leshy. When he tells his family, Vesemir chides him for fighting it for 6 hours without killing it. So is Eskel going to then admit he also got injured? Given that he's already in a bad mood, hurting and tired, he's not going to want to risk ridicule. But the flashback in Ep. 3 shows much more the Eskel that fanon wanted to see. Which leads me onto the next point.

3. The show is action adventure with a focus on the family bond between Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri. It has very limited space and can't include everything from the sprawling lore of the Witcher world. Because there's a huge amount that they could pick and choose from, not just the books and the games but the Gwent lore, the Table Top RPG. This is before we consider that the show creators want to make their own mark and have their own ideas and theories explored. As amazing as it would have been to see more of life at Kaer Morhen, the bond between witchers, there just wasn't time. There could have probably been a whole series dedicated to Geralt, Lambert, Eskel, Vesemir and Coen's relationships. But that's not the focus of the show, they're merely supporting characters there to further the story of the main characters.

4. As for the scars...well. Again, it's all interpretation. The books and the games didn't match in terms of scars. I can only imagine that such extensive prosthetics would have been uncomfortable to wear and work in (just think of Anya Chalotra's problems with her pre-transformation Yennefer look. It had some serious consequences for the little I know.). They also had a different actor than planned, Covid restrictions to contend with, and probably wanted to have their own interpretation of the character. They turned Lambert ginger with long, luscious hair yet I've not seen so much kickback against his casting.

5. Basil Eidenbenz did a fantastic job. Poor guy already had fandom rallying against him from the day he was announced as the replacement Eskel. Too young. Too skinny. Too pretty. Frankly, if that was me, I'd be devastated to walk into something with already so much hate against me. But he did the show, in Ep. 3 he gave Eskel some real warmth, gave a flash of what fanon decided Eskel's personality is more like. He worked with what he had, what the script and the directing allowed him. And kudos to the guy. His portrayal of Eskel might not be what the fandom wanted, but he gave an excellent performance in his own right.

So what now? Fandom feels let down by canon. That's nothing new. We're going to do what fandom does best and write/draw/create all the fix-its. We'll continue with our own characterisations, make something that makes us happy. Canon is nothing more than a suggestions, we can pick and choose our own. And in The Witcher fandom? We have a whole feast to choose from. So don't let the show's portrayal bring you down. Use it, celebrate the bits you liked from the show and politely ignore the rest. Am I going to continue writing Eskel? You bet. Will it be show canon Eskel? Probably not. But that does not mean I can't cherry pick aspects from the various canons and mash them into something of my own. I can only hope everyone else can do the same and focus on the bits that bring them joy rather than what they disagreed with.

#the sock speaks #eskel #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher season 2 #the witcher s2

[athenadione]

‘you are mine (and I am yours)’

In which you can find out the hard way that demons don't like sharing. @vi-la-vi

AthenaDione and I did a thing! Everyone loves jealous Damian, but hear us out....jealous Raven? Hope you enjoy! -Vi

I’m so incredibly honored to participate in this collab. Vi practically paved the way for me to give you all the delicious demon Raven smut that ensues and did a superb job writing the majority of this piece, as always. If you enjoy and feel so inclined, you can leave a kudos HERE on A03. Vi— thank you for allowing me to be a part of your writing process. You’re such a talented writer and I’m happy to have found you :) -AD

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Not just because it had been years since she last saw him, but because ever since she met him, Anna Vandergilt had thought of little else. 

Damian Wayne. 

They’d met at a benefit when both were sixteen years old, and it had been love at first sight. The elusive heir finally returned to Gotham after five years abroad, doing god knows what. She’d collected every bit of information she could about him, academic transcripts, tabloids, medical and legal records. Vandergilt influence ran deep and she had no compunction about using it to fuel her obsession. Securing an internship at Wayne Enterprises as Tim Drake’s assistant was just the latest step.

And now he’s here, and I won’t let him get away again. 

Damian had to remember her, the spark when their eyes met, the unbreakable connection they’d made. He didn’t acknowledge it when they were introduced, but that was fine. He was an intense, secretive man and likely just didn’t want to make a scene. 

Green eyes flashed to hers and narrowed, catching her staring. She willed herself to keep it together, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs in an attempt to draw his attention to the slit in her pencil skirt. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and leggy, she knew how to make men stare.

Or so she thought. Damian had turned his attention back to Tim’s presentation, arms crossed and expression impatient. So serious. She planned ways she might be able to get him alone, with no one and nothing to distract him from her. After today, I’ll have more than just fantasies. She’d been looking for an opening to approach him all day and was sure she couldn’t wait much longer.

They broke for lunch, but just as she moved towards him she was intercepted by Tim. 

“Hey Anna, can you run up to my office and grab my blue flash drive? I forgot to bring it down earlier.”

Get it yourself! she wanted to snap. An assistant position was well beneath her pedigree, and she hated taking instructions from common-born Tim Drake. Swallowing her irritation, she smiled and nodded. 

When she finally returned, Damian had already gone, apparently having had a lunch appointment with someone else. Anna sighed. I’ll speak to him after work, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to dinner and drinks. No man had ever refused her.

She spied him later as she was returning to the conference room, speaking to a dark-haired woman she didn’t know outside of his office. She took a moment to admire him in his suit, noting curiously that the girl with him was only casually dressed in black jeans and an off-shoulder top with a band logo. Unprofessional much? He’s probably scolding her about the dress code.

Just as the thought solidified, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Damian’s jaw, tugging his tie playfully as she did so.  

It was as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her head. Anna stood stock-still, mouth falling open in horror. Who the fuck...how dare…?

The woman whispered something in his ear, kissing his jaw again as Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. She continued to stare, waiting for him to shove her away, glare, do something. She heard someone approach from behind. 

“Ugh, those two,” Tim groaned. 

“Who is that?” Her voice was tight and strained, and the man next to her gave her a curious glance. 

“That’s Rachel, Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, at a loss for anything else. 

It’s not fair. I planned...I’ve been waiting…

She shook her head, determination moving in. A minor setback. He just needs to know there’s something better on the market. Vandergilts were practically royalty, after all. Her beauty and breeding were no doubt superior. She bit back her anger as Damian dropped a kiss on the other woman’s forehead before walking away.

Just a minor setback, she mentally repeated.

-

Tim’s assistant had a serious staring problem, and Damian was relieved when he was finally able to retire to his office. Annoying. The older man had joked earlier that Damian’s constant absence in Gotham and avoidance of the public eye elevated him to mythical status among some of his father’s employees. He longed for this week to end, eager to be back in Jump and away from the Wayne gawkers. 

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the revenue charts in front of him. 

“Stephanie is insane.”

Damian smiled, eyes darting to his watch to see how much longer he’d be stuck in this office. As necessary as it was that he be here for the audit, he felt bad abandoning Raven to his siblings. Next time they came to Gotham he’d make sure it was purely recreational and personally show her the sights.

“A half hour more, then I will come rescue you.”

Then two days more, and they would be home. 

A knock on the door called his attention. “Mr. Wayne? Could I borrow you for a moment. I need a second pair of eyes on this file.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the worshipful expression on her face. The scent of expensive perfume assailed him and Damian fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. She looked at him hopefully, blinking rapidly.

“Ask Drake.”

She shifted, reaching up to toy with her platinum blonde hair. “Oh...he just has so much on his plate. I wanted to avoid bothering him,” she replied, voice high and lilting. 

Strange woman. Damian wondered where his older brother had found this one. He hadn’t really been paying attention when they were introduced, Vander-something or other.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.

She circled around the desk to stand next to him, laying the file in front of him and bending low. A fall of blonde hair brushed his shoulder and Damian shifted slightly to put some distance between them. He spent so little time in normal society it was easy to forget how bad most people were with personal space. 

“What exactly did you need help with?”

“This.”

Without warning, she sat on his lap and pressed her lips forcefully against his, throwing one arm around his neck for good measure. Damian completely froze, protests firing rapidly through his mind. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and it was enough to break his paralysis. He shoved her off of him violently and she caught herself on the desk, shifting it several inches back.

“What are you doing?!”

The alarm on her face lasted only a second before being replaced with a coy smile. “Don’t be shy, I know you remember me. It’s been years, but you’re all I’ve thought about, Damian. I swear.”

“I - don’t…” Damian felt uncharacteristically frazzled. “I have - no. I’m not interested,” he finally managed.

“Please, Damian.” She tried to take a step forward and he instinctively backed away. He hated the way she said his name, he realized distantly.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said, hard edge in his voice. One who would kill you and probably me if she was here right now. Raven did not share.

The woman sniffed. “Her. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a Wayne. She can’t possibly-”

“Enough.”

He glared fiercely, daring her to try and continue. Tears swam in her blue eyes and Damian felt a touch of relief that he finally managed to get through.

“I...hmph, fine. Keep her on the side if you must. My father had a mistress. Just keep her out of my sight.”

She’s insane. What the fuck kind of vetting process do you have, Drake?

He closed his eyes and exhaled before meeting her watery gaze once again. 

“Listen very carefully. I. Am. Not. Interested. I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll call security.”

“I - but - we…” She straightened, eyes glassy with disbelief as she tried to compose herself. “I see.”

Damian kept his glare on as she left the room, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. He grabbed his phone again, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw Raven's name, and called his brother.

"I fired your assistant. You're welcome."

"What? Damian, you can't just show up and start firing people!"

"I'll...explain later." Vaguely, and with as few details as I can manage.

The hint of discomfort in his voice must have given him away. "Seriously? No wonder she was staring at you all day.”

"Drop it."

"Alright, alright. Her dad's going to be pissed though, he pushed Bruce for months to take her on here. Sounds like you got your very first stalker."

Well that was a disturbing thought. Damian shook it off. "Just tell him it didn't work out." He didn't want any rumors getting back to Raven if he could help it. 

-

Lying to an empath is easier said than done.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted disbelievingly, eyes glued on the book in her hand. “Why do you feel so guilty?”

“It was a long day. I felt bad for you.” Half-truths were the only semi-effective way he’d found of getting around her lie detector. Normally Damian would smother inconvenient questions with lips, hands, and other parts of him that Raven was always deliciously responsive to, but touching her would have felt wrong right now. She deserved to know the truth before she decided how near she wanted him.

She rolled onto her side then, burrowing down against her pillow and studying him curiously. “You don’t have to spend every second with me, Damian. I’m pretty self-sufficient, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He shrugged, laying back and closing his eyes. “I’ll just be glad to get out of here. People in Gotham are a different breed.”

Raven hummed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s actually bothering you.” 

With that, she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. Damian flinched at the contact before responding in kind, and pretended he didn’t see the confused look in her eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, focusing the emotion to make sure she felt it as well. 

She closed her eyes, slightly mollified. “I love you, too.”

I'll tell her when we get home, he promised himself. As much as he hated keeping secrets, he knew she was going to be upset and preferred a controlled setting. Damian remembered an incident shortly after they began dating when the ticket-taker at the theater had slipped him her phone number. Raven said nothing at first, but the night ended in a supply closet instead of a screening room.

"I don't share," she whispered dangerously, legs tightening around his hips to draw him in deeper. Red flickered across her purple irises. “You’re mine.”

He smirked at the memory. We never did get to see that movie.

Definitely safer for all involved to wait until they'd left Gotham.

-

Anna stared at her discreetly from the park bench. He’s loyal, that’s all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

She grudgingly admitted to herself that the other woman was pretty, if unconventional. Pale purple eyes and dark purple hair - hadn’t anyone told her the punk rock look was out of date? She had nothing on the blonde’s classical beauty.

A hefty bribe to the Wayne's chauffeur had given her knowledge of the woman's - Rachel's - movements throughout the day. She was ordinarily accompanied by Tim's banshee of a girlfriend and one of Bruce's orphans, but had separated from them earlier in the day to visit Gotham’s Arts District. Anna waited until she saw her enter the nearly empty arboretum before making her move. If Damian couldn’t be persuaded to break things off, this one could. An affair with the office hottie - tale as old as time.

“Pardon me?” She adopted a nervous affect as she approached, eyes downcast. “You’re Rachel, right?”

The other woman tore her gaze from the plaque in front of her, violet eyes locking on baby blue. “Do I know you?”

“Anna. I work - worked at Wayne Enterprises. I’m really sorry to do this, but...there’s something you need to know.”

She regarded her silently and the blonde fought the urge to fidget. There's something off about her. What were you thinking, Damian? Finally, Rachel nodded once, crossing her arms. Anna smiled internally and fiddled anxiously with her hands, doing her best to look miserable.

“I was Tim’s assistant until Damian fired me yesterday,” she began, voice weepy. “Tim’s the one who told me about you, I swear I didn’t know before.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, something dark and inscrutable flashing in and out of her gaze. “...Excuse me?”

Anna took the low anger in her voice as an encouraging sign and continued. She dropped her eyes again and let out a harsh sob. “I’m not the kind of person who fools around with other women’s boyfriends, and-"

A massive burst of black and red interrupted her thoughtfully planned speech, demolishing the stone plaque next to them and knocking her to the ground. She screamed, covering her head  with her arms. A bomb? What’s happening?

Before she could get her bearings, something hauled her up by the throat, slamming her painfully against a tree. She blinked against the white spots in her vision and the dust in the air, squinting to see what held her. 

Four slitted golden eyes met her own, radiating fury so thick she could almost taste it. I’m seeing things. I hit my head and I’m seeing things. The devil tightened its hold on her neck and stepped closer, heat pouring off its red skin. Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt, Anna felt her bladder let go. 

“Did you fuck Damian?” it - she - asked in a deadly calm voice.

“Wh-what?” she croaked. No way...what the fuck is she?!

“Answer, mortal.”

She sobbed in her grasp, all her carefully crafted lies flying away in the wake of her terror. “No! I just kissed him!”

The claws (claws?!) around her neck tightened and she felt warm trickles of blood start to seep down into her collar. 

“That - that’s all! That’s all I did! I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“I know.”

Shadows wrapped around the two of them and she screamed.

-

Stupid, stupid woman, Damian thought furiously, raising his eyes from the weeping figure on the floor. He’d put it together fairly quickly after walking in the door, and was currently kicking himself for not considering this possibility. She’s clearly deranged, I shouldn’t be surprised she approached Raven.

The woman in question sat in a nearby armchair, looking every bit the queen of hell she was. Her demonic appearance and the regal way she carried herself in this form lent their mundane bedroom at Wayne Manor the feel of some macabre court.

“Something to confess?” his demoness asked lowly. 

“I was going to tell you when we returned home. This is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.” Sparks of black and red magic at her fingertips told him that was the wrong thing to say. 

“You think a couple hundred miles would have saved her from me when I found out? I would cross entire universes.”

The woman before her seemed to curl in further on herself, as if trying to become a smaller target. Prayers fell from her lips, whispered and unintelligible.

 “She’s not worth it. I would have made you see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You are mine, this was a challenge to me. A proper demon would have brought just the head.”

A loud wail met her words and golden eyes flicked downwards, oozing contempt. Damian felt a thrill race down his spine. He'd never seen her this angry - possessive. The idea that he was the catalyst, that his composed, serene Raven was burning so brightly over a stolen kiss made his blood tingle. 

Apparently feeling the weight of the demon’s stare, she covered her head with her hands and tried to choke back her cries. A prey-like instinct to hide taking root. 

He swallowed before speaking, mindful of the thin ice he was on. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t kill her.”

An amused sound escaped her, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret it. “Beloved?”

She finally met his eyes again, clearly unhappy with the situation. “Fine. But if I ever see or sense this creature near you again, I will tear her apart slowly. Testor ego eam.”

With that, she waved a hand and the other woman vanished in a rush of black. He didn’t bother to ask where, not wanting to push his luck with Raven right now. Hysterical as the other woman was, no one would believe anything she had to say anyways. 

The demoness crossed her arms, studying him silently. She seemed to have no intention of changing back to her human form. Oh. 

“I suppose I’m in trouble as well?”

“Lies deserve punishment. And you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“You, habibti. Always.”

Her smile offered nothing but trouble and his heart started to pick up. "That’s a start."

“Oh?” he asked her, not moving from the spot where he stood. It seemed that court was still in session, and her final judgement on his own transgressions had not yet passed. 

She picked at a claw unhurriedly, hooded eyes flicking over his figure. Not one to back down, he met her appraising stare inch for inch.

“Did you know that demons mate for life?” she asked without warning. 

“No, beloved,” he breathed. The information was new but it hardly mattered. He had already decided that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her long before they ended up together. He just wondered why she felt it necessary to mention now. 

“It’s a sacred bond. Actually sacred, unlike human marriages. Challenging it is the worst insult one demon can deal to another.” Her eyes narrowed, and her claws seemed to sharpen before his eyes.

“She wasn’t a-”

“No one will threaten our bond. Do you understand, mate?”

Dear gods. 

He resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead pressing them firmly together. “You should know that you will never be at risk of losing me, beloved.” 

“I know. I also know you will never lie to me again.” The demoness waved a clawed hand before resting it underneath her chin. She was waiting for him. He swallowed again.

“What can I do to make amends?” 

Her grin widened, boarding on malevolent, as if she finally found the answer she was looking for. Lifting effortlessly from her chair, she began to stride across the room to him with measured steps. 

“I have a few ideas.” She purred. 

“Oh?” he asked again, displeased at how out of breath he sounded. 

Golden eyes held his own, and she didn’t speak again until she was just an arm's length away from him. 

Then she pointed at her feet. “Kneel.” 

He felt his jaw go slack. She wants me to do what? 

She cocked her head at his hesitation. “You will not kneel for your demoness?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. “Don’t you want to remedy your indiscretions?”

He set his jaw, barely suppressing a wince.  When she put it that way, there was no reason not to kneel before her, even if the thought of doing so went against every instinct in his body. He did, after all, lie to her, and if this was what she wanted from him then who was he to deny her?

Besides, there would be an opportunity for her to return the favor. I’ll make sure of it. 

Revealing nothing, he stared at her impassively and slowly dropped to one knee, biting back a scowl as her smirk grew. 

Then, he watched as a slender leg poked out from the slit of the dress she was wearing, and a strappy, black heel. He gave her a simmering look, then took it in his hands without a word, and pressed a kiss to her ankle, trailing up the side of her calf. 

“That’s very nice, mate.” She murmured, resting a clawed hand onto this shoulder. “What else are you willing to do for me?” 

A light smirk replaced his features. She was asking him to seduce her. To fuck her. That was something he would be more than willing to oblige. 

He promptly stood to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling him into his chest. To his amused delight, she went pliant in his arms— nearly purring as he captured her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the memory of the other gods-awful kiss that’d been forced upon him. 

Then a clawed hand traveled his cheek lightly, moving its way to the back of his head. She suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged downwards, tearing his lips from hers. He hissed when sharpened teeth latched themselves on his neck, nipping at the exposed flesh there before soothing it with her tongue. 

Then she began to walk forward, forcing him to step with her— until the back of his knees touched the mattress of their bed. 

“Meus es tu.” She said lowly, and she pushed at his chest, sending him backwards.

It turned into a battle for assertion. One that he admitted he thoroughly enjoyed— and intended on winning. 

He took her with him, grabbing her waist to position her underneath. His smile was smug when he peered down into four golden slits, obviously dissatisfied at the turn of events. 

Ignoring her bared teeth, he nudged open her legs with one knee before settling between them, then rolled against her in one swift movement, taking pleasure in the way she threw her head back with a growl. 

He continued his ministrations, trailing hot kisses down her neck, just as she did to his moments before. One hand reached up to graze her breast as his kisses went farther down the middle of her chest, while his other hand roamed over the swell of her hips. 

Raven in turn, was growing more frustrated with every second he kept her distracted with his teasing, light touches. 

“Enough.” It was a command.

By the time he managed to blink he found himself on his back and she was straddling his waist. 

Her hands encased with her dark magic. “Alliges duplicia.”

His arms lit up with her magic and they were forced above his head. When he tried to bring them back down he was met with resistance. What the hell? When he looked up his eyes widened with realization. She bound my fucking hands to the headboard. 

“Raven.” He snarled in warning, tugging on his bonds. The demoness was unperturbed by his outburst. 

“You will submit to me, mate.” A dangerous red swirled in those golden irises, and he clenched his jaw in response, then bit back a groan when she brushed against his length. 

“Let me go.” He glared. 

“I will not. This is your punishment. You will stay like this until you beg for me.”

“Tch.” 

He detested how painfully hard he was. His erection strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t contain his next groan when she palmed him. 

It didn’t matter how much he wished she’d slip her hand underneath his belt. He would not beg. 

She began to strip slowly, until she was completely bare before him, and then she peeled off his pants carefully— and then his shirt. His full erection was on display for her, and he released a strangled noise in the back of his throat when she settled her heated core against him.

She chuckled darkly when he twitched underneath her. “Say please.” 

“No.” he gritted out, breath hitching when her mouth latched onto one of his nipples, nipping roughly. Her tongue flicked it right after, mixing the pain she had caused with pleasure. 

“No?” Her claws wrapped around his throat, squeezing in warning. “You are in no position to deny me, mate.” 

He just glowered.

“Fine.” She relented, retracting her claws. “You will break eventually.” 

Her fingers lifted to her full breasts, reddened from her true form, and her fingers began to tease one darkened nipple into a tight peak. The bonds went taut when he pulled at them roughly in an attempt to reach out to her. She noticed this and smirked as she teased her other nipple, then rocked against him. They groaned together.

He watched as she then slipped one hand down to her core and began to tease herself, parting her folds before slipping a finger inside while grazing against his cock. 

She moaned, mouth parting slightly and he growled again in protest. That should be his fingers inside of her. 

“If you insist on not obeying me, then I will use you for my own pleasure.” She sunk down onto his cock and his head hit the wall with his groan. Fuck, she felt so damned good and the pace she was setting set him on a steady course towards an impending orgasm, regardless of how much he despised not being in control. 

“Beloved.” He growled when she brought him to the brink all too soon, then slowed back down while teasing her clit with her own fingers. Quick, circling motions that revealed her own need to him— that she was nearing her own orgasm. 

He caught her hitched breath. She was losing resolve, caught in her own wave of pleasure. 

“Release me.” He tugged on his bonds again and bucked his hips into her for good measure. “I want to be the one to fuck you when you come.” 

She gasped and clenched around him, drawing him even deeper. “I will come soon. If you want to fuck me, you must beg now.” 

He cursed. Goddamn her. 

“Please, habibti. I am yours.” 

With a victorious smirk, she waved a hand. That smirk was short-lived however, because as soon as the bonds disappeared he lunged for his little demoness, twisting them both before pulling out of her to roll her onto her stomach. 

“You are mine too, Beloved. I will also make sure of that,” he snarled into her ear, teasing his cock at her entrance. His hands held her pressed against the bed. 

The demoness laughed, then inhaled sharply when he pushed into her with one swift movement. They were both right at the edge, only a few more thrusts was all it would take to throw them both over.

“I can feel how close you are,” He reached a hand underneath her to press his thumb directly against her clit, “Come with me, now.” 

She cried out— a sound that was more animalistic than human, and she fluttered around him. He fell shortly after, nearly seeing stars. He continued to thrust languidly, drawing out their orgasms. Vaguely, he watched as Raven’s skin turned from red to flushed ivory. One pair of eyes turned to peer up at him instead of two, and the color of her irises receded to lavender. 

For a moment he watched her transform, breathless. 

She smiled up at him as her breathing returned to normal and he returned it before dropping his face to her neck. “I’m going to have to make you jealous more often,” Damian murmured into her skin. 

Raven snorted, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-soaked hair. “Unwise. Not only will I definitely kill the next one, it will hurt the entire time she is dying.”

“Green is a good color on you, habibti.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her contentment in the gentle run of her fingers across his hair and skin. As post-orgasmic clarity continued to take hold a question popped into his mind and he leaned up to regard her.

“When were you planning on telling me we were essentially demon-married?”

She flushed. “Eventually. Are you...did you not want…?”

He silenced her with a kiss, letting his actions and strength of his emotions answer her question. As though he could ever give this up, or stomach the idea of either of them being with someone else. 

After all, Damian didn’t share either.

#damirae #damian x raven #damian wayne #raven #teen titans #fanfic

[daggerandrose]

Happy 28th! I’m making this the night before and crossing my fingers that Louis drops something today (a single, a doc, or even a selfie would be a blessing and I would lose my shit). In any case that he doesn’t... have some fics to read!

As always, please leave a kudos/comment on these as I know they fuel writers. Enjoy!

Love, Ever After, 20.7k, by @jacaranda-bloom

One would assume that the charismatic omega in charge of the local matchmaking service would have found a mate and settled down ages ago. His clients, in fact, are always a bit surprised when they come to learn that Louis is still single. But Louis doesn’t mind, not really. His standards are just high; he is happy holding out for his alpha, his soulmate, and chooses to not waste his time with anyone else, despite what his friends might think.

That is, until his best mate from uni drags him out of bed far too early on a Saturday morning after a night of drinking to go to a farmers market, of all places. It’s there that he proceeds to make an utter fool of himself in front of the hottest alpha he has ever laid eyes on. There’s truly no coming back from that, is there?

OR The one where omega Louis makes love matches, alpha Harry makes cheese, and meddling friends might finally make their dreams of finding their soulmate come true.

Like air to the fire I need you to breathe, 4.6k, by CuckooTrooke

"Your nest is very beautiful" Louis says in awe, feeling his chest bubble with love as he watches Harry preen at the compliment.

"You like it?" Harry asks shyly, picking up a lonely sock from the center of his nest and replaces it on the side of his nest. He looks at it thoughtfully until shaking his head at himself, picking up the sock again. Louis watches him at this important task, how the placement of the smallest things in his nest is so important.

"Of course I like it. It's very pretty" Louis praises. Louis was going to do this right. He was going to praise every little effort Harry had made and will still make with his nest, tell him how cozy and well put together it is. And practical, on top of everything. Despite of being situated in Louis’ closet. But it had so many blankets, duvets and pillows that Louis will happily make Harry fall apart in that nest when he goes into heat.

Well. He’ll try.

The thing is, Louis is sort of terrified.

OR

Harry is in preheat and Louis is nervous about his upcoming heat, fearing that he might not be able to fulfill his mate's needs. Lucky for him, Harry knows hot to push the right buttons to get him relaxed.

But If This Ends, 107k, by @absoloutenonsense

Harry’s life as a vampire is routine. He spends his years moving around from place to place, learning as much as he can, and falling in love whenever the universe sees fit. When he tries to move his casual relationship with Louis to something more, it all gets turned on its head. As they navigate confusing thoughts and complex emotions, Harry finds himself torn between the love he feels for Louis and everything he thought he knew.

Counterculture, 6k, by @sadaveniren

It all culminated to this: Harry in the middle of a crowded basement, music blasting from the live show on the far side, shirtless amongst alphas and omegas who all weren’t covering their scents. He took a deep breath of the heavy air and he felt alive.

across city skyline (and straight through my heart), 76.4k, by @halosboat

Louis Tomlinson meets Hollywood Heartthrob, Harry Styles when he walks into Louis' little bakery one day.

Immediately, Louis is charmed by him and Louis thinks Harry might feel the same way, given the fact that Harry has visited the bakery everyday since he'd come to town.

Until one day, Harry walks in with a boyfriend under his arm and a smile on his face.

The one where Louis owns a small bakery that's well known in his town and Harry Styles is an actor who comes to town to film a new movie. Louis is endeared by him, but that doesn’t seem to matter since Harry Styles is already taken.

When The Wolf Comes Out (like a bullet in the dark), 9.8k, by @londonfoginacup

"So Dad was a..." Harry rolls the word around on his tongue, trying it out. "A werewolf?"

"In a sense, you could say that," Anne says. "It's certainly a more correct term than that vampire myth." She looks to Nick. "Grimshaw. Would you please explain exactly what the Madness entails?"

Nick nods. Harry has never been on the receiving end of his business face before, and finds he's more than a little intimidated. “Right, well the first thing you need to know is that, except with freak mutations, the madness only actively infects one individual at a time. Since your grandfather’s death, your father has been dealing with it. Now that he’s gone, it’s presumably moved to you.”

Too Young To Know, 35.4k, by @2tiedships2

Louis blinked awake and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. This was the second morning in a row he had woken up after dreaming about Harry.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Eric asked as he held Louis tighter in his arms. Louis liked being the little spoon, except for when he’d rather be holding someone else. Which were the past two days.

Or the one where Harry doesn’t present as an alpha… until he does.

This Ain’t Red Wine, 9k, by LetTheMusicMoveYou

It’s not until he gets a whiff of the contents of his glass that Louis realizes his grave mistake.

That’s not red wine.

It’s blood.

It’s probably not the most rational, but his first thought is what people are going to think when they discover his body. On the list of stupidest ways for a human to die, accidentally turning up to a Vampire party has to be pretty high up there.

(Or the one where Human Louis accidentally finds himself at a Vampire only party which actually turns out to maybe not be the worst thing).

don’t want no other shade of blue, 43.2k, by @louisisworthit

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.

“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”

“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

no good unless it’s real, 17k, by @fackinglouis

“Here,” Harry says, pulling a strap off his shoulder so he can dig his phone out of his bag. “We can get each other’s numbers.” Louis shakes his head. “I have the practice’s number already,” he tells him. “And my number is definitely on file somewhere.”

Harry pauses, smile quirking a bit as he stares at Louis. The sun is still in his eyes, though, with his sunglasses pushed up onto his head still, so Louis credits his funny face to that.

“I’m trying to give you my number, Louis,” Harry explains around a breathy laugh.

“Oh,” Louis blinks, processing that. He scratches his temple, moves a piece of longer fringe back behind his ear, and then nods. “Okay.”

Or: Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

shameless self-promo: take my hand, wreck my plans, 38.1k by me!

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

#mine #fic rec #28th appreciation

[suppenzeit]

After a mental battle with myself, I've decided to post a fic since I actually managed to write something that works as a oneshot! It's a very self-indulgent human au olc-electraboose fic. I wrote it one late night, and haven't touched it after finishing it. I have no idea how good it actually is.

Enjoy :~)

To be quite honest, AVs life was nothing exciting. Go to work, buy food, make sure BV and CB stay alive, basic stuff. Right now he was focused on the 'go to work' part, though there wasn't much to focus on. A slow day at the electronics repair store meant that he'd taken apart and reassembled the radio twice, resorting to mindless doodling after deciding that doing it thrice might be too much.

The chime of the bell over the door made his gaze lift up from the train he was doodling to the new customer.

A tall, lanky guy stepped in, carrying a boombox under his arm. Damn, he was pretty. Soft makeup complimenting his features perfectly.

AV rose from his seat, determined to make a good impression.

"Welcome, how can I help you?"

The stranger lifted the boombox on the counter. He was even taller up close, the poofy mohawk easily adding a few inches.

"This doesn't work. I don't know why, think you can fix it?" Hmm, a bit cold, but not as mean as some of his crankier customers.

"Maybe! I'll need to look inside to see what kind of damage we're dealing with here" he took the boombox and turned it on its face, taking out the screws with a screwdriver. "I'm pretty good with fixing these kinds of machines, so unless it needs a part we don't have, this baby should be up and running again in no time" Lifting the back plate, he came face to face with a mess of wires and circuits, time to go to work.

"Thank god, would you mind if I waited here while you fix it?"

"No, not at all" Poking through the wiring, he expected the problem to be just some loose or faulty wires- and yep, just some loose wires, an easy fix, unless… He really didn't want this beautiful stranger to leave. He took a second to just look, the guy was looking at the camera camera equipment, face pretty as a picture. AV cleared his throat and the stranger looked back at him.

"Just some broken wires, I'll have to replace them, but it shouldn't take long" It was a lie, but if this person couldn't figure out what was wrong then he probably couldn't figure out that he was lying.

"Just that?" AV began taking out the wires, very aware that he was being watched.

"Yep, pretty common, but it's an easy fix"

"Hmm, I probably could've fixed that by myself, but radios are completely foreign to me, I didn't want to risk mire damage"

"Oh? You into electronics?" This was interesting. Most of the people he talked to couldn't care less about what he did, it felt nice to meet someone on the same wavelength.

"Computers, mostly. I'm fascinated by them"

"Damn, computers? Kudos to you, those things are far too complex for my mind"

The stranger chuckled at that. Yes.

He rummaged around the wire storage, picking out replacements.

"I'm sure you'd manage, you seem like a smart guy"

AV tried to not blush as he began to connect the replacement wires. The bell above the door dinged again.

"I'll be with you in just a moment!" He said as a red shape entered the corner of his vision.

"Hiii AV" Ah, CB. He glanced up to see CB sitting on the counter, peering at the insides of the jukebox.

"CB, off the counter, now" he nudged CB to emphasize his point.

"Ugh, fine, old man" CB hopped off with a grumble and began circling the store.

"Didn't take you to be a father"

"I'm not, I'm just the brats brother" he continued his reconnecting.

"Oh, sorry"

"It's fine" A lot of people thought he was CBs dad, it was probably the mustache, it made him look older.

After some silence, AV was done. He checked the wiring just to make sure everything was alright and closed the boombox. Turning it upright again, he turned it on to test it, and soon enough the store was filled with music.

"Ta-dah, simple as that" he turned off the boombox.

"My hero. How much do I owe you?"

After telling him the price, AV got handed a stack of bills and coins, and as he counted them, he saw the stranger write something down on the notepad he was scribbling in earlier.

"Here's your change" AV handed most of the bills back.

"Thanks, you're a life saver"

"Just doing my job"

The stranger left, leaving AV back on his own. Well, not completely, CB was still here, taking apart the radio AV had been fiddling with. But CBs idea of fun was not something he'd want to unleash in the store, so he was once again bored.

He took out a pen and moved the notepad closer, finally noticing the text written on the top.

212-555-0115 - My name is Oleander, by the way.

Oh, oh wow.

#:V #my fic #i guess thats a tag now. i doubt ill add much else but it can stay for now #my brain is simultaneously pestering me to post this while also being terrified to post this. fun! #this is not the worst writing ever but i really am my own worst critic #i need to stop rambling in the tags i just gotta pull the trigger and post this bitch.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 8K+ (She’s a doozy!) Warnings: Language, angst, very basic medical procedures *Disclaimer: Hey again guys, so sorry about the delay with this chapter. But I’ll admit, I actually got this posted a lot sooner than I thought I would! So kudos to me I guess? I just want to say a huge thank you to all of those who have been with this story since the beginning, and those who have joined us along the way. This isn’t the end of this story, but I just want to let you all know how much you all mean to me.  And please remember, if you read this story and you like it, give it a like, a comment and maybe even a reblog if you think your followers may like it? I know there isn’t much happening in the 6 Underground fandom these days, but the only way to keep it alive, is if people keep reading and writing for the characters!

All my love my dudes ❤❤❤

Probably best if you check out the other chapters first..... One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Chapter Eleven: Don’t let me fall, at least not alone

“Four? Can you hear me?” Billy felt weak, and highly disoriented. His head was spinning, as if he actually was fighting a migraine, unlike the one he was supposed to be faking…. Faking, why was he faking a migraine again? “Four, stay with us!” The voice continued calling out, though why was this person yelling out a number? A name sure, he could understand that. But calling out random numbers? That just served to confuse him more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” This was a new voice now, one which sounded just as Billy’s eyes had slowly drifted closed against the harsh fluorescent lights above him. How strange, surely these people weren’t addressing him were they?

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” The same voice from before was firing orders, her voice holding an edge of fear and concern. Suddenly a shadow appeared above his closed eyes, and carefully he peeled them open, relieved to not be greeted with bright lights, and instead by a shadowed figure. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.” She was whispering to him, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Though it was hard to be sure, especially as he struggled to keep his eyes from falling shut once more.

How had things turned out like this? The last thing he could recall, was speaking with a woman dressed in white at a reception desk. Then it had all gone blank for him.

*****

You paced around the small living room of the house you had all been calling base for the past few weeks, sucking in deep breath after deep breath, all the while clutching your arms around yourself in a tight embrace. “Nope, I can’t do it. I cannot do this guys!”

Two looked up at you from her gossip magazine, having taken great pleasure in the abundance of French reading material. She was the only one of you in the group to have settled into your temporary accommodation, and was fitting in with the locals perfectly. Rolling her eyes at your outburst, she returned to her reading. It wasn’t that she was being unsupportive, far from it actually. It was just that she had reached her limit of words of support, forty odd minutes ago, at the beginning of your breakdown.

“Yes, you can. You know you can! We’ve been over the plan hundreds of times now, everything is in place. Weapons are stored in the hospital, the Lushnick’s are there, we’ve seen them! Everything is working out according to plan. Four will be on his way to Emergency within a few hours, then it’s all up to us. We can’t leave him.” It was One’s turn to play reassurer this time around, and he was the first to raise Four as if knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You whirl on the spot, eyes growing wide and pupils blown. “I never suggested we leave Four! I ju– I just don’t know if this mission is a good idea is all?”

One sighed, squaring his shoulders before smoothing his hands down his turquoise scrubs. “Eight, if you had one shot, or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would capture it? Or just let it slip?”

You stare at One, blinking slowly as silence fills the room. “Is – Was that Eminem?” You stammer, shaking your head gently, as if to clear the fog which had settled there. Surely you were mistaken, One couldn’t be quoting Lose yourself, right?....

“Does it make it any better or worse knowing this isn’t the first time he’s used that as a motivational speech?” Seven grins, winking at you impishly.

“I think what makes it worse is knowing that no matter what reaction he got last time, he still decided to try it again!”

“Touché, and dude, get yourself a better speech already!” Seven smirks, patting One on the shoulder as he walks by and towards the kitchen. His uniform shirt half buttoned as he goes.

“Why does everyone know that song straight away?” One groans, looking genuinely confused.

“Because it’s the bloody 2020’s! And not to hate on Slim or anything, but for the love of god, replace your ipod shuffle, and listen to some new music. Please!” You plead, as the startling thought of One thinking lose yourself was a new song creeped its way into your mind, causing you to shudder.

Five steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. Looking like the absolute goddess she is, with her hair wrapped in a fluffy towel, and a robe concealing her, she fixes you with a strong look. “Eight. You are ready for this. Upon our first mission, we were all terrified. But we pulled through, one way or another we did what needed to be done, and look where we are now. I know what you’re feeling, we all do. We’ve all been there, trust me. But the only way this will work, the only way we will be able to get to the Lushnick’s, is if we stick together and work this mission just as we’ve planned. That means all of us. We can’t be a member short, not this time.” Without waiting for your response, Five walks away, closing a bedroom door behind her.

You have no response, no witty retort. Nothing. Not that it would matter, Five wasn’t there to hear it anyway. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn back to One, who still looked somewhat put out by your ipod comment. “Has anyone seen my uniform?”

*****  

Just after 11am, Billy made his way to the hospital and into the Emergency department, cradling his head between his palms, and groaning in mock agony. His earpiece was safely tucked in his ear, providing him contact with his team. Contact which he had been severely missing these past few weeks. At first it had been bearable, what with your secret texts on your burner phone. But when One had arrived at the safe house, it had been harder to sneak messages, until finally they had ceased all together. But hearing your voice now, ringing through his ears, he felt like he was home. Despite walking into a hospital.

“Genevieve Lushnick is on the move. Last seen leaving Ward 11A.” You advise everyone.

“She finished her rounds in Paediatrics much earlier, not sure where she’s headed now.” Five recalls, the sounds of crying infants in the background of her voice.

“Usually her roster would have her checking on Geriatrics in Ward 7B next. But She’s already been there. That was her second visit of the day.” Seven advises, though he sounds confused. To be fair, so does everyone else. Genevieve was changing up her routine, something she hadn’t done at all during their surveillance of her. So why now?

“Hold on, let me see if I can track her down through the live camera feeds.” You suggest, the sounds of your fingers flying across a keyboard breaking the silence which followed.

Billy’s concentration on the conversation happening in his ear is cut off by a woman dressed in white sat at the Emergency reception desk. A nurse from the looks of her. “Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?” She blinks wide amber eyes up at Billy, who stares back confusedly.

“Uh, En-English?” A part of him wants to chastise himself for not learning French for this mission. But knowing he was playing the part of a tourist he allowed himself some leeway in the preparation department.

The nurse smiles further, though the more teeth she shows the more forced it looks. “Of course. How may I help you today sir?”

“I just flew in a few days ago, and I have an awful headache. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. All lights are too bright, I feel weak, my head is pounding, and I feel nauseas.”

“Has this just begun, or is this an ongoing issue?”

“No, it just started this morning. I took a couple of paracetamol to help when I woke up, but they’ve done nothing.”

The nurse nods her head, looking down at her computer, as Billy adds in a groan for effect. Just as the nurse asks for personal details, One appears from the behind the desk. “Goodness, what’s wrong with this man? He looks like death on two legs!”

Billy repeats what he had just told the nurse, with One nodding along, and playing every part the good doctor. “You need to be seated immediately. Someone, bring me a wheelchair!” One calls in the direction of the wardsmen who are stood around the waiting room. “Jennifer, you need to be more familiar with signs of a migraine. This young man, what was your name sir?”

“James.” Billy moans, falling back into the wheelchair once it appears behind him, laying his head back for added effect.

“Yes, James could have collapsed at any moment. Please be more mindful next time.” One warns, a harsh glare in his eyes directed at the young nurse.

“O-of course Doctor Cleavers. It won’t happen again.”

Billy can barley contain his smirk at the sound of One’s alias, covering his attempted chuckle with a well-timed groan.

“Does anyone have eyes on Gregory?” Two whispers harshly into her earpiece, causing Billy to flinch slightly, just as one does the same. Christ, Two needs to keep her tone down!

It’s Three’s turn to respond first now, who sounds quite proud of himself as he speaks. “He’s up in theatres, doing God knows what to God knows who.” The sound of a trolley filled with rattling dishes being pushed, barely making his mumbled voice audible.

One moves around behind Billy, kicking up the brake on the wheelchair, and pushing him towards the swipe pass activated doors, leading to the Emergency treatment area. The deafening silence flowing through both his and Billy’s earpieces cause the two men to glance at each other nervously.

“How long ago did you see Gregory heading to theatres?” You ask, an edge of worry hinting at your tone.

Yet another long pause, until. “During breakfast rounds… I suppose two hours ago, maybe?” Three no longer sounds sure of himself, which sets in a sinking feeling in all those on the team.

“He was scheduled to finish surgery one hour ago. Has anyone seen him this past hour?” You snap back, perhaps more of a bite in your words than you had intended.

“Negative.” Replies One in a quiet voice, while smiling at fellow doctors as he pushed Billy.

“No.” That was Two.

“Nope.” Five now, who had been awfully quiet so far.

“Neither.” Three mumbles, likely feeling as dejected as he sounded.

“Well you know I haven’t.” Billy smirks. It was a risk him speaking to the group like this, but currently with his head tilted back, and staring up at the ceiling as he was being wheeled down a corridor, no one really paid any attention to him.

“I’ve only seen Genevieve. The two haven’t been together all morning sorry.” Seven whispers.

“Fuck me…” You breathe out, slamming your fists down on the desk. “I can’t see either of them on the live feeds!”

Carefully, Billy lifts his head once again, turning over his shoulder to peer up at One, who was frowning and staring dead ahead.  “Is there a problem Doctor Cleavers?” He mumbles, keeping the act up for anyone who may pass.

“There very well may be.” One mutters, only glancing down at Billy for a brief moment.

The two continue down the corridor for another few minutes, the bright clinical lights beginning to bring on a genuine headache for Billy now. Finally, they come to a stop in a large treatment room, multiple beds lining the walls, all encircled by blue curtains. Some had been drawn for patient’s privacy, while others remained opened. In the centre of the room was a large desk where Nurses and Doctors hurried to and from, collecting and depositing various prescriptions and clinical orders. “James, are you able to stand to bring yourself over to the bed?” One asks, raising his voice enough to somewhat put on a show for those nearby.

The temptation to ask One to pick him up is almost too great to pass up, but knowing that somehow it would come back to haunt him, Billy opts for standing himself. “I think I can manage, thank you Doc.” Standing slowly, Billy pivots on the spot, and shuffles over to the bed, hoisting himself up and laying back.

“We’ll need to bring your fluids up, I’m worried about you becoming dehydrated. We’ll need to cannulate you. Have you ever had a cannula before?”  One asks, waving for a nurse to come and assist him.

“No, I don’t think I have.”  

“Not to worry, it’s relatively quick and painless.”

The nurse hurries over, and listens as One fires orders at him, orders which he had picked up from watching medical shows, mostly scrubs…. “We need James on a drip ASAP, get that started now!”

“Right away Doctor Cleavers.” The nurse agrees, before moving off to grab the necessary equipment.

Billy turns his attention to One, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Are you seriously going to stick a needle in me?” He hisses, emerald eyes flashing in fear.

One shrugs lightly, turning away from Billy to keep an eye out for the nurse. “Well, I’m not going to be injecting you. Can’t say the same for the nurse though.”

Billy wants to scream, at no stage during the briefings had there been any mention of him having a needle jabbed into him! Hell, if there had been any discussions of such a thing, he likely would’ve backed out! Perhaps that was why there was no mention? The nurse reappears, and preps his work station, all the while One, or Doctor Cleavers stays around to supervise the proceedings, occasionally chiming in with his theories as to what the cause for his sudden pain could be.

“Four! One! They’re coming!” Your voice breaks through the stinging sensation of the needle, panic flying through Billy’s veins. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for-” Your voice is broken by puffing breaths, and the sound of your feet pounding on the tiles as you sprint from somewhere else in the hospital.

“Emergency.” Billy finishes, as the two people who he had been staring at photographs of for months now, strut into the treatment room, patients and doctors alike parting like the red sea as the couple head towards Billy and One. Four sets of eyes meet, and no member of either team is willing to break concentration.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Genevieve grins, her canine teeth almost too pointed, like fangs brushing against her ruby painted lips.

“Thank you, Eric, you’ve done a wonderful job here.” Gregory turns to the nurse and nods his head, the nurse returning the gesture and leaving the group.

“Eight for Four, come in Four!” Your voice shouts in his ear, causing Billy to flinch away.

“Ah, that must be the rest of your team I take it? Not to worry, we have our people taking care of them as we speak.” Genevieve shrugs, before turning to One. “Seeing as you’re so good at playing Doctor, you’ll be pushing your friend. He won’t be awake much longer. I would hate for him to collapse.”

At these words, Billy shoots up on the bed, his head spinning as he does so. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Genevieve waves him off, her nails painted the same shimmering ruby as her lips. “Surely you don’t expect me to give away our secrets? That’s not how people like us work.”

One steps behind Billy’s bed, and begins driving it forwards, following behind the Lushnick’s with a scowl. Billy could see the wheels in his mind turning, as he tried to formulate a plan of escape, though from every way he looked at it, they were pretty well fucked. He could feel his body growing tired, and his mind becoming clouded and dazed, whatever they had given him, it was taking over his body quickly, and any minute now he would be useless to the team.

*****

Fuck! The entire team had lost the Lushnick’s! How did that even happen? Seven was supposed to be trailing them, he had been doing so every other day perfectly, but what the fuck had gone wrong today? Your fingers fly across the keyboard, frantically switching between all the cameras in the hospital. Some provided a live feed, while others only offered playback, but at this point in time you would take what you could get. Window after window pops open on your monitor, squinting at the slightly pixelated images to try and identify who was being filmed.

“There!” You practically scream, causing one of the guards walking past your office to jump, turning a concerned look your way. “Sorry, just uh – finally got a fly that’s been harassing me all morning.” You blurt out, though with a shrug, the guard walks on, either having bought the lie or not caring enough to question it further. You gaze back at the image on your screen, it was from one of the playback cameras. Both Gregory and Genevieve were spotted seven minutes ago in one of the staff only corridors, leading between the imaging department and emergency. “Seven minutes…. How long does it take to get there?”

“Three! Come in Three!”

“Bloody hell, no need to yell Eight. What is it?”

“On your delivery route, how long does it usually take to get between X-ray and Emergency?”

Three pauses to think, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he does so. “Roughly twenty minutes.”

“We’re fucked.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

You ignore the frantic questions streaming from Three, the others shortly joining in with their own confusion. But you didn’t have time to address their concerns, right now there was only one thing on your mind. Beating the Lushnick’s to the Emergency room. With your heart hammering in your chest, and breathing coming out in desperate gasps you turn back to your computer, snaking your way into the hospital power grid.

You know how to do this, it’s just like what you did for your museum heist way back when you had met One. But for some reason, your brain can’t seem to summon the image of what you need to do. You could try a keyboard smash now that you’re in the controls, but that could seriously damage literally everything… “Come on, just think dammit.” You snarl at yourself, clasping your hands into fists, and pressing them against your temples.

Eyes springing open, you fix a harsh glare at the blinking screen before you, asking for a password. “Y’all Lushnick’s are fucked.” The password it simple to guess, trust the Lushnick’s to use their fucking last name as a password. They may be smart in what they do, but they sure as hell know nothing about internet security. The screen turns black, with a 3D model of the hospital slowly building itself on your screen. With each scroll of your mouse, the model shifts, and enlarges to a new section of the hospital.  A blinking blue bar in the top left of the screen offers a text space, and going on a hunch, you type in ‘Geriatrics’ and press enter. The model disintegrates into tiny pixels, before rebuilding just the section you had searched. “Brilliant…” You whisper to yourself.

The geriatrics ward of the hospital consisted of one main power source, with a backup which would boot up and provide energy to the most necessary equipment and lights in the event of the main grid failing. “Five for Eight, come in?”

“Eight here, what’s going on?”

“I’m being followed. There’s security blocking off just about every exit on this floor, and no matter where I go, there’s someone behind me, or waiting for me.”

“Has anyone else got this issue?” You call out, eagerly awaiting replies. There’s a resounding yes in response, with the only discrepancy coming from Seven.

“A couple of guards caught up to me in 11B, they’ve brought me along to help catch the infiltrators.”

“So they don’t know you’re a part of this?”

“Seems like it. And from what I gather, they aren’t onto you either…”

“Perfect, Seven stay with your team. There’s about to be a Code Blue in geriatrics. I’ll put the call through to all security to get to the ward, that should give the rest of you time to escape. Rendezvous in Staff corridor D.”

You don’t wait to hear the replies from your team, once again your body working quicker than your mind. Your hands already working on shutting down the power to the Geriatrics ward. You should feel worse than you do, you were putting innocent people’s lives at risk. But the one thing which had been drilled into you from the begging was, the team comes first wherever possible. It was Seven who insisted on this. But who were you to argue with him?

Your eyes are glued to your screen as you watch a warning light appear over the 3D model you had been working with. ‘WARNING! Main power grid will be turned off. WARNING!’ It was rather polite of the system to warn you of the damage you were about to inflict, however the flashing red image did little to stop you. With one final mouse click, a new pop up appeared on your screen. This one somehow even more urgent, despite no red flashing lights. ‘WARNING! Main power grid for geriatrics has now been turned off. Back up system now operating.’ An alarm was blaring throughout your office, warning you and all security who remained nearby of a system failure. “All units. Repeat, all units to Geriatric ward immediately. Power failure. All units report.” You instruct through the P/A system.” Instantly, you watch as two security guards’ race past your office, down the hall and towards the stairwell.

“Five, have they gone? Can you get out?” You ask carefully, keeping your voice low in case of any security stragglers.

“Yeah, they’ve all gone now. Jesus Eight, what kind of a system failure did you make?” You can hear her laughing now, though you know the doctor side of her is genuinely concerned as to what chaos you had caused.

“Nothing that should cause any real harm, but it’s done the trick.” You smirk, locking your computer and stepping out of the office.

You knew the security alert wouldn’t deter the Lushnick’s, hell even if the building was on fire, you doubt they would stray from their current target. But if your calculations were correct, you still had at least five minutes to warn One and Four of their impending arrival. Your heavy combat boots pound against the tiles, sprinting your way towards corridor D, praying the others would already be there, or at least arriving soon. Pressing your index finger against your earpiece, your voice sounding frantic even to you. “Four! One! They’re coming!”. They had time, they had to have time….. But with no response from either, you try again. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for Emergency!”

Nothing, not a single word from Four or One. This wasn’t right, they were supposed to have time still, plenty of time to get out of Emergency and meet you and the team. But as you round the corner to Staff corridor D, there’s no One, and sure as hell no Billy. “Thank God you got here alright!” Five gasps, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you. You had never known her to be much of a hugger, but you suppose high stakes situations like this could change a person. Checking over her shoulder you spot Three, Seven, and Two all talking amongst themselves. “Where’re Four and One?” You ask timidly, stepping away from Five’s embrace slowly, and looking between her and the rest of the team.

No one seems inclined to answer you, which only serves to send a deep chill down your spine, and for a solid mass to feel as if it had been lodged in your throat. Pressing on your earpiece again, you try calling for the two again. “Eight for Four and One, come in both of you.”

There’s again no reply, and your heart feels like it’s being strangled. “I heard some of the guards talking. There was talk of a couple of intruders being found…” Seven begins, his dark eyes meeting yours, with a look which could only be described as true sympathy.

Sharp, electric static echoes through your teams ears, all earpieces but yours going haywire for five seconds, before silence once more. “What the fuck was that?” Three snarls, ripping the piece out and glaring at it between his large fingers.

An all too familiar voice speaks slowly now in your ear, but as you look around you realise this voice was only speaking to you. No one else could hear her. “Well, who do we have here. You’re not the Doctor, I would recognise her voice anywhere. And you’re obviously not the French one, unless you’ve managed to disguise your accent, which I truly doubt. So who are you…”

“I’m not playing any of your sick little games Genevieve. Where is the rest of my team?” You hiss, causing the others to look up and over to you.

“Eight? What’s going on?” Two asks carefully, stepping towards you slowly.

“Who are you talking to? Three asks, lifting his brows up.

“Ah, see. There’s the French one! I knew you had to be someone else! Eight was it? Oh how interesting. So what, did another one of your team die? Is that why you’re here?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m not someone’s replacement.”

“Oh aren’t you? Well that just makes this even more special then doesn’t it? Tell me, which one of these charming young men is Four who you seem so concerned about? Is it this ruggishly handsome tall fellow who keeps glaring at me? Or is it the pretty blonde, with the gorgeous green eyes, who’s having a hard time staying awake right now?” It’s an involuntary reaction, but at the mention of Four, your breath catches in your throat, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “Ah, the blonde it is..”

“What have you done to him? What can’t he stay awake?”

“My my, so many questions! If you didn’t want anything to happen to him, then maybe you shouldn’t have used him a bait silly little girl!”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I suppose I could tell you, it would be rather enjoyable to see the look on your face as we operate on him, while there’s nothing you can do about it…”

You don’t wait to hear anymore, ripping the earpiece out and throwing it as far down the corridor as possible. “Theatres. The Lushnick’s have Four and One. They’re about to do something to Four.” You gasp out, barely able to catch your breath, as tears prick the backs of your eyes.

“Shhh, Eight it’s going to be fine, I promise.” Five offers, soothing her palm down your back gently.

“Don’t you dare make empty promises.” You growl, shaking her off and racing down the hall, towards the stairwell.

*****  

“What have you given him?” One growls, glaring between both the Lushnick’s and Four who lay on an operating table, barely moving and occasionally groaning. He rattled his arm against the handcuffs which kept him bound to a side railing. He was completely useless, both to himself and to his teammate.

Genevieve turned to him now, regarding him with a cold stare. “I hardly see why that matters now? You can’t do anything to help him, especially not in your current predicament.” She chuckles darkly, before turning her attention back to Gregory. The man barely spoke a word, but the sick sadistic smile which had been growing across his lips these past few minutes, was enough for One to get a better sense of his character.

“At least tell me what you’re going to do to him!” One tries again. He was running out of questions, and by the looks of things, time too. He had hoped he would be able to keep the Lushnick’s occupied long enough for you and the rest of the team to get here, but ever since Genevieve finished her conversation with you, she seemed all the more eager to get this started.

“Well that’s the fun part. Greg doesn’t know yet! Here’s how this works. Greg cuts the patient open, has a bit of a poke and prod around. Takes out what he wants, and then stitches ‘em back up! You never know what will be taken!” Genevieve grins, pressing a red kiss to Gregory’s cheek, who only grins broader.

One has to fight back to urge to both vomit, and throw punches, instead opting to glare at the duo. “You’re both sick, and you’re going to rot in hell once we’re through with you!”

Genevieve waves him off, turning her attention to Four, who was more unconscious than conscious now. Though he occasionally made a slight jolt, or mumbled a quiet sentence. “Should we wait until he is a bit more under before beginning the procedure?”

Gregory turned to her, lifting a brow in curiosity. “And risk the others getting here, before it’s too late for them to rescue him?”

Just as his words die off, a loud crash against the operating theatre door causes both Doctor’s to glance towards the sound. The crash was quickly followed by another, before a gunshot can be heard echoing throughout the circular room, the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground following. “Greg…..” Genevieve whispers, turning to the Doctor, as the double doors slam open. The metallic hingers screeching under the sudden movement.

“Where the fuck is my boyfriend?” You scream, pistol raised, and aimed directly at Genevieve Lushnick.  Seven and Three stand beside you, each holding a gun of their own, with Three aimed at the nurses in the theatre, and Seven poised to fire upon Gregory. Two and Five stand either side of them, aiming at the guards behind them who were writhing on the ground, though they both remained vigilant for any further arrivals.

Gregory lifts a scalpel and hovers it directly above Four’s abdomen, poised and ready to cut. “Ah, you must be Eight.” Genevieve grins, taking a careful step towards you, as Gregory lowers the scalpel closer to Four’s bare skin.

Seven aims at the wall just above where Gregory stands, the bullet ripping a hole in the sterile room, causing Gregory to jump back almost an entire foot. “Don’t even think about trying that again.” Seven hisses, fixing the Doctor with a glare.

“Now now, there will be no need for violence.” Genevieve begins, before taking a look at the guards who were slowly bleeding out in the entry way. “At least, no more violence that is.” She steps forwards again, fixing you with an interested eye. “My goodness you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I’m positive I would recall meeting someone as wicked and vile as you.” You spit, keeping your pistol trained on your target, your eyes following her every step.

“Hm, yes I suppose so.” You were now engaged in an odd type of dance, Genevieve was slowly circling around you, and you followed her every move, moving in a circle on the spot. “This is where the negotiations begin, I imagine.”

“There will be no negotiations. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we take you to the authorities who will make sure you both rot in a prison cell for the rest of your sorry lives.”

Genevieve shakes her head no, still walking in her slow circle around you. From an outside perspective, it was that of a lion circling its prey, though to your perspective, you had the upper hand. Or at least, you had the weapon. “No, you see that doesn’t work for us.”

“Fine. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we kill you both right here, right now.”

Genevieve shakes her head again, looking over to Gregory who was clutching the scalpel for dear life. “Eight, something’s wrong…” One calls, looking over to Four. The young man was beginning to convulse on the operating table. His skin was flushed in tiny pinprick sized red dots, and his chest was rising and falling in rapid laboured breaths.

You chance a glance over to Four, and your heart stops. Something was horrendously wrong. “Five, go check on him!” You screech, turning your full attention back on Genevieve as Five races past you. In a split second, you pocket your gun in the back of your jeans, and lurch forwards, fists griping into the collar of Genevieve’s shirt. You hold the fabric with such ferocity the seams popping in her shirt is almost audible, but your blood is pumping too loudly in your ears for you to hear. “Tell me what you gave him!” You’re practically screaming now, directly in her face, yet Genevieve doesn’t seem phased at all. She was used to outbursts such as this, granted they were typically from a grieving mother or father, and not someone threatening her life, but none the less, it felt like just another day in the office.

“Not until we strike a deal!”

There’s only one thing running through your mind as your eyes lock onto Genevieve’s, the training fight you had had with Three all those months ago. Only this time, there was no one fighting back, you had the power. Your leg steps behind Genevieve’s left, and you sweep out with your entire weight, releasing her collar just as her knees gives way and buckle beneath her weight, and she crumbles to the ground bellow you, her back smacking the hard tiled floor with a crack. Instantly, you’re on top of her, kneeling down against her stomach and pinning her to the ground.

“You bitch!” She shrieks, coughing as she attempts to regain the breath you had knocked out of her, though with almost your entire weight leaning into her now, it was unlikely she would.

“I’m terribly sorry. I guess I lost my footing.” You smirk, pressing your knee harder against her. Causing Genevieve to cry out in pain.

Gregory races forwards, his scalpel dropping to the ground in his haste. “Get off of her!” He calls, wrapping her palms over your shoulders and attempting to tear you away.

Three steps in, shoulder barging him in the stomach and sending the Doctor crashing to the ground beside his wife.

“Guys! I think Four’s having a severe allergic reaction to whatever concoction he was pumped full of!” Five yells, a stethoscope looped around her neck, as her frantic eyes meet yours. “Is he allergic to anything you know of?”

You stare back at Five, your mind going completely blank, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Surely Four would’ve told you if he had any allergies, right? And perhaps he had done just that, but standing here now, with all hope resting on your shoulders, you couldn’t think of a single thing which may be useful in this situation. Shaking your head, a growing sense of dread filling you, as the rest of the team remain silent. “I- I don’t know….”

“I can give him an Epipen, but I need to know what he’s either had, or what he’s allergic to so I can get him the proper antidote!”

Tearing your eyes away from Five, you look over to One, who not only felt but looked entirely useless, chained to a handrail on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes searching his for an answer. Your mission was to capture the Lushnick’s, and right now, that was exactly what you had done. But if you kept them as they were now, as prisoners, Four could die….. Was that a sacrifice you were willing to make?

All One could offer was a gentle half smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly in his compromising position. He couldn’t offer you an answer, hell you couldn’t even offer yourself an answer….

Carefully, you release some of the pressure from Genevieve’s stomach, just enough for her to look up at you in surprise, blinking wide eyes up at you. “Tell me what you gave him, and we’ll let you both go.” You mutter, fighting back the urge to swallow back your own words.

A wicked smirk unravels over Genevieve’s lips. The kind of smirk which one would associate with a wicked stepmother, or evil queen from a Disney film. “Deal.” You release more pressure from your hold on her, until she can breathe properly once more, and Three steps away from Gregory, giving the man a swift boot to the hip just to make his point. “We gave him a combination of penicillin, general anaesthetic, codeine…” Genevieve stands, as does Gregory, both stepping backwards towards the door. Your team moving out of their way upon looking at you for clarification. No one wanted to move, that much was obvious in the frantic looks the others were throwing your way. But at the same time, they all knew the price they would have to pay if they kept the Lushnick’s as they were now. A price no one was prepared for.

“There was some paracetamol mixed in too….” Genevieve continues. They were at the doorway now, hand in hand, gazing behind themselves to make sure the way was clear. “Hm, what else?”

“Gosh, I just can’t recall.” Gregory shrugs, an evil smirk crawling its way over his lips. His eyes glowing with malice. “I simply have no idea what ese they’re may have been!” He calls with enthusiasm, before both pivot on the spot, racing from the theatre.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You shriek, your sight going red as you sprint after them down the corridor, pulling your gun out as you give chase. Genevieve looks at you over her shoulder as they reach the stairwell, regarding you with a look of familiarity.

“Eight! Eight, it’s not worth it!” Two yells from the doorway, watching you with a deep concern. She knew what you were capable of, your whole team did, but not the Lushnick’s. And from the looks of things, they didn’t care either. You stop halfway down the corridor, releasing the safety on your pistol and firing three shots at the door Gregory hand his hand pressed against. He jumps backwards in shock, glaring back at you, pure fury masking his features.

“Yes Eight, listen to your friend. She seems to be the brains of this group. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would we?” Genevieve snarls, baring too many teeth to be considered even remotely friendly.

Aiming the pistol once more, you line up your sights, finger hovering over the trigger. One shot, that’s all it would take. A bullet to the middle of Genevieve’s forehead would kill her instantly, and Gregory would have no choice but to surrender. “Are you going to kill me? Shall I say hello to Kellie when I see her?”

You stare at Genevieve, her words ringing through your ears, and sending a jolt of shockwaves straight down your spine. In that moment of hesitation, the Lushnick’s push through the stairwell door, and flee.

You’re paralysed on the spot, staring after where the Lushnick’s had stood moments ago. They recognised you. They knew who you were and why you wanted revenge. But how? It had been years since you last saw them, you had been a child! Surely you looked different now from back then? But they knew you! They remembered Kellie… A gun shot rings down the corridor, the sound of metal clanging to the tiled floor following directly after.

“Eight! What happened?” One yells, now free of his handcuffs, and jogging down the corridor to meet you. You hadn’t moved. Still stood with your arms raised, and gun pointed to where Genevieve had stood.

“They – They knew me.” You gulp, putting the pistol away with shaking hands, and turning to look up at One. Tears were brimming in your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. At least not yet.

“What? But how?”

“I don’t know! That’s the fucking problem.” You hiss, storming away from One back towards the theatre. Once back, chaos surrounded Four, with everyone racing around him handing various different equipment and medications to Five, as she prepped some kind of antidote perhaps. “How’s he doing?”

Five looks up at you, regarding you with a careful mix of sympathy and hope. “The EpiPen gave him enough adrenaline to wake up again, though he’s extraordinarily groggy. Now I’m just tyring to figure out exactly what to give him to counteract the other shit that’s pumping through him.”

You nod your head in thanks, knowing you would find the time to thank Five properly once all of this was over. “What can I do to help?”

“We need to try and keep him awake, he keeps coming in and out of consciousness.” Three replies, as he passes Five a vile of clear liquid.

“Four? Can you hear me?” You ask carefully, stepping over to him and squeezing his hand tightly. His warm fingers curl around yours in reply, before falling limp against your palm.

“He’s out again! Wake him up!” Five yells to those in the room.

“Four, stay with us!” You plead, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. To hell with anyone seeing the act of intimacy, if One wanted to give you shit for it, he could do so when you were all in the clear. Though checking the room, you can’t find One or Two for that matter, they must still be in the corridor where you had left them?

Slowly, Four blinked his eyes open, frantic emerald flickering around the room and searching for something, or someone. Just as his eyes landed on yours, they fell shut again, and his body spasmed once more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” It was Seven yelling this time, his voice booming above all other noises in the vast room.

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” You can hear the tears in your voice as you beg for him to open his eyes again, but they remain closed. Turning to look at Five, she looks frazzled. Her hair which had started in a neat, slicked back bun, was now hanging loose down her back, and was wild with frizz. She looks up at you, not quite in a glare, but with enough ferocity behind the look that you know better than to bother her anymore.

Leaning down, you card your fingers through Four’s blonde curls, brushing away a few stray locks which were plastered to his forehead with sweat. Barely more than a slit, his eyes open and stare directly up at you. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.”

Three looks over at you, his ears perking up at the use of his teammates real name. It was one thing to use names in privacy back home. But during a mission, however failed that mission may be, now that was new. Shaking his head, he spots One and Two heading over, but with grim looks on their faces. “What’s the plan?” Two asks, her eyes locking with Three’s.

“There isn’t one, not really. We just need to keep him awake.” Five sighs. “I think I know what to give him to help, but I want him awake when I administer it. If it works correctly then it should knock him out for a bit. If he’s already unconscious when I give it to him, then I won’t know if it’s doing more harm than good.”

One turns his attention over to you now, lifting one brow as you meet his gaze. “Any idea what will keep him awake?”

You pause, clutching Four’s hand tightly, and staring blankly at One. “Trivia. He loves random trivia facts!” You blurt out after a beat of pause. All eyes turn to you in surprise, no one quite knowing how to respond to this information. You shrug lightly, averting your gaze from One’s. “We play a lot of trivial pursuit back at base.”

Seven is the first to break the silence, though not to mock you as you had thought would be the case. Instead, he looks down at Four. “Hey mate, did you know high heels were originally invented for men. Imagine Three chasing down the Lushnick’s in stilettos.” He laughs, which causes Four to stir slightly, his eyes opening just a tad.

“Fuck, you’re right. That did work.” One blinks in surprise, running a hand through his short hair.

“Of course it did. I know Four, I know what works on him.” You mutter quietly.

Without looking up, Five smirks to herself. “You sure do kid.”

There’s no fighting the embarrassment which claws within you. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to be making suggestive comments… “Alright, keep ‘em coming guys!”

“Um okay…. Uh, Canada has more lakes than anywhere in the world.” Seven offers unsurely.

“Those greedy fucks….” Four moans, causing everyone to pause, before laughing quietly. Good, his sense of humour was still intact, that’s surely a good sign!

Two steps closer, and looks down at Four in deep concentration, before leaning back slightly. “David Bowie, he did not in fact have two different coloured eyes. One of his pupils was permanently dilated after he was punched in the eye during an argument over a girl.”

“Bugger me, really?” Five pipes up, both brows raised in surprise. “I always thought he had one blue and one brown eye.” She shrugs, priming a syringe carefully.

Slowly, Four was waking up. Granted he wasn’t exactly moving very much, but his eyes were opening, and he was grinning somewhat at the facts that were being thrown at him.

Staring down at Billy, something pops into your mind, a fact which you had learnt years ago at school but never shared with anyone else. “Okay, here’s one for you. Madonna’s like a prayer, is actually not about praying, it’s about giving someone a blowjob!”

Silence follows, and you swear you could hear crickets chirping. “Why the fuck is that something you know?” Four groans quietly, his eyes searching all over your face, before finally meeting your own.

“Shit, I don’t know… I also didn’t think that would be the fact that would wake you up the most! I was hoping someone else would say something after me!” You grumble through a grin.

“Nothing could possibly beat that fact.” Four chuckles weakly, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could muster.

Five turns around, holding a full syringe in her right hand, and a sterile swab in the other. “Glad you’re awake. What I’m about to give you however, is going to send you right back to sleep. Sorry about that. But I assure you, next time you wake up, you’re going to feel amazing.” She grins, ripping open the swab, and swiping it over the inside of his elbow.

For the second time that day, Four winces in pain as a needle plunges through his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut against both the sight of the injection, and the stinging pain. Whatever Five had given him was fast acting, and soon enough Four finds it nearly impossible to reopen his eyes now that he’s closed them.

“Move him into the wheelchair there, it’ll be easier than carrying him out of here.” You suggest, pointing to the blue cushioned wheelchair in the corner of the room.

One, Three and Seven all nod their agreement, and move around the operating table, getting into position to lift Four. “Count of three…. One, two, three.” Three instructs, as the men lift Four who simply groans in protest. You watch his limp body be carried across the room, your heart aching at the sight. ‘It could be worse… He’s just asleep.’ You repeat to yourself, once again fighting back the tears which had remained ever present at the corners of your eyes.

Three pushes the wheelchair as you all follow in a daze. Your mind felt as if it were a million miles away from the current situation. For the briefest of moments, you had genuinely considered murdering Genevieve. Never once had you thought yourself capable of doing such a thing. But yet, there you had been. Gun poised, and trigger finger rearing to go. If it hadn’t of been for her words, then she would be dead…

The escape route was an easy one, especially with security still trying to figure out what had gone wrong on the geriatrics ward still. Swiping the keys to an ambulance at the docking bay, you load Four inside the back with Five to monitor him. One drives, Three and Two sitting beside him up the front. While you and Seven sit quietly in the back. Occasionally your focus returns to Four, but mostly you stare out of the back windows, watching as traffic zips around you. You nearly killed someone today… What sort of a person were you becoming? And did you even like the person you were turning into?

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[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

 Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.  

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

#su #su future #greg universe #andy demayo #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

[amaru2020]

Hey everyone! So this is a Raya and the Last Dragon fic co-written with my amazing friend @hazellevesque4life! Go check out their blog it’s awesome! It will also be available on their AO3 which I will link right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30246006/chapters/74537121#workskin

don’t forget to leave plenty of kudos! We’ll try to update as often as possible! Now without further ado, let’s begin.

Chapters written by me, @amaru2020 will be marked like this 🟣

Chapters written by @hazellevesque4life will be marked like this 🔴

Summary: Raya and Namaari have to go on a road trip across kumandra to cure sisu's siblings of a curse

Cursed love

Chapter 1 🔴

“Namaari, I’ve been looking for you,” Virana called.

Namaari turned to face her mom, startled.

“Hi, Mom. I was just looking for Raya,” Namaari said.

Virana sighed. “You can find her later. First, walk with me.”

Namaari began to protest. She had to apologize to Raya for accidentally triggering an apocalypse.

But Virana stopped her before she could say anything. “I’m not saying you can’t talk to her, but this is more pressing.” She began walking.

She slipped her hand in her pocket and squeezed Raya’s golden hairband. It would be weird if she didn’t give it to Raya now. It might seem like she was trying to keep it. But her mom had just been turned to stone. And it would be horrible of her to not be there. Namaari released the hairband from her grasp. Namaari walked at the same pace as her mother.

“What did you need to talk about?” she asked.

“We need to head back to Fang.”

“What? We just got here. And Fang was destroyed by the Druun. Heart is the only place that has enough resources. We can’t go back yet.” Namaari hoped her mother didn’t think she was getting too riled up over this. But she still had things she needed to do here. Things she needed to tell Raya.

“That’s exactly why need to go back. Who do you think everyone is going to blame once the dust settles? We need to get ahead of the fray so that we aren’t reliant on Heart. We don’t know when they’ll turn on us. We need to rebuild so that we are strong when that happens.��

“But, shouldn’t we at least stay for a little while,” Namaari retorted, suddenly feeling anger swell up.

“We have to leave. To protect our people.”

And that was it. Her mother was the chief, and so her word was final.

Or it would’ve been. If Namaari hadn’t seen how the other had looked at her when the Druun cleared. After years of resentment, distrust, malice between everyone, there had finally been trust sent her way by people not from Fang. The last time she had seen that was when she was a child—again with Raya.

And even that hadn’t lasted long. Because of Fang’s need to protect themselves before anything. She wasn’t doing that again.

“No, Mom. We don’t have to leave. If you want to leave, I can’t stop you. But I’m staying here, trying to mend the bridges you burned.”

Virana looked at Namaari, contemplating. “Okay,” she said finally. “I trust you. But I’m not staying. If the other nations turn on us, I’m not having our people be helpless.”

Her mother was many things, but stupid was not one of them. If there was a way for her to make sure that Fang was self-sustaining while also keeping their relationship with the other nations, she would take it. None of them wanted conflict.

That calmed Namaari’s anger a little, but it didn’t completely soothe it. Her mother still expected conflict. She watched, wordlessly, as her mother turned and walked away.

Whatever. She couldn’t dwell on this. This was just more of a reason to go talk to Raya. Now if only she knew how to find Raya. Heart was weird, not like Fang at all. With its spiraling cityscape. Fang was contained on a much smaller piece of land, but Heart didn’t have that restriction. The buildings here were so much harder to navigate. Where would Raya be?

She thought back to the last time she was here. There was a huge central area, she recalled. Maybe Raya would be there, helping the people who had just arrived. Trying to use her foggy memories of the last time she was here, Namaari walked through the streets of Heart.

Finally, after too many confusing turns, Namaari found herself in front of the familiar hall where she and Raya had first bonded. The sounds of chatter echoes through the walls. So Namaari was right.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved the door open revealing people sprawled all over. And just like last time, it was people of all nations. This time, though, she noticed that more people were talking amongst people who weren’t from the same nation as they were. Namaari forced herself to stop thinking of that and to look for Raya.

She scanned the room, looking for Raya’s obnoxiously large hat. Her eye caught immediately: Raya, talking to her Ba.

Namaari stared at her, unsure of how she should talk to her when, mortifyingly, Raya looked up from her Ba. Their eyes met. Shit. Namaari lifted her hand in a small wave, trying to play it off as an accident.

Raya’s expression changed to —ugh— amusement. She motioned for Namaari to come over.

Mentally berating herself, Namaari walked towards Raya. She got a couple of curious glances from the other people of Fang.

“Hi, Raya,” Namaari said when she reached her.

“Hey! Are you okay? You were sort of staring at me from the doorway?” Raya was still looking down at her Ba, as she finished replacing the old bandages on his thigh with new ones where the crossbow bolt had hit him so many years ago. Namaari immediately felt a pang of guilt.

Oh, so she had noticed. “Yes. I’m fine.” Namaari refused to try to meet Raya’s eyes. “I, uh . . .” She what? Wanted to say she was sorry for telling Raya that Sisu’s almost-death had been her fault? Wanted to give back the golden hairband that she had kept like a creep? The words dissolved at her tongue. She and Raya hadn’t talked much since the Druun had been defeated. “Wanted to ask if you knew where Sisu was,” she lied.

“Oh,” Raya looked up. “I haven’t seen her all day actually. I’d check the clearing where her siblings were turned to stone the first time.”

Namaari wanted to shrink down. “I- I don’t know where that is.”

Surprisingly, Raya’s Ba spoke. “You should go with her.”

“But Ba, your leg-” Raya protested.

“Will be fine. It’s important to treat the other nations with respect.”

“. . . Okay,” Raya said, but the concern didn’t leave her face.

They walked together in complete silence. Namaari tried to keep track of the turns that they made so that she didn’t have to be led around like a child again, but Heart was too expansive that it was useless. She’d have to ask for a map or something.

Namaari was knocked out of her thoughts by Sisu’s voice.

“—Raya! I’m so glad you’re here, I was looking for you.” Panic laced Sisu’s voice.

Namaari sent Raya a concerned look. Raya glanced back at her. They spoke at the same time.”

“Sisu? What’s wrong?

“Are you okay?”

Sisu let out a strangled noise. “There’s something wrong with the other dragons!”

Chapter 2 🟣

Sisu gripped her tail with both paws as she began to pace, muttering things under her breath. “ “First Amba, then Pranee, now Jagan and Pengu…”

“The dragons? What do you mean there’s something wrong?” Raya said, finally finding her voice.

Sisu stopped to sit on her haunches. “I was hoping you could tell me! One minute they’re

normal, the next it’s like they didn’t even recognize their own sister!” She buried her head in her paws.

Raya and Namaari shared a worried look. Raya had never seen Sisu this distraught, which was cause for some concern. Raya felt Namaari give her a soft nudge before taking a couple of steps back. Raya raised an eyebrow over her shoulder in question, the only response she got was a gesture and look that could only be interpreted as ‘Not my place.’

Raya let out a small breath before cautiously beginning to approach the dragon. She tried to emulate the calm she had seen her Ba use many times in the past.

“Sisu... it’s ok, why don’t you just calm down and-“

Sisu’s head snapped up. “I’m calm, okay! It’s only my siblings turning into feral monsters, no big deal!”

Before she knew what was happening, Sisu had Raya dangling upside down from her leg, mere inches away from her furry snout. The whole situation gave Raya an intense feeling of déjà vu.

“I mean sure I did almost get attacked by my big brother today, but fine, let’s try it your way and stay, “calm.”” She used her free paw to make air quotes over the last word.

Raya only rolled her eyes. “Hey, at least I got you to speak in complete sentences.”

“That’s not the point!” Sisu said as she gave Raya a firm shake. Raya smirked and held up her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, but you need to still explain what’s going on. Can you do that?”

Sisu nodded.

“Good. Now put me down?” Raya asked as the blood had already rushed to her head.

“Right, Sorry.” Sisu said, chuckling sheepishly. She placed Raya gently on the ground, a nice change of pace from being dropped face first in her opinion.

Sisu frowned and picked up her tail and began to fiddle with it. Raya gave her an encouraging nod and touched the side of her neck, reminding the dragon she was there. This seemed to do the trick as Sisu finally began to open up.

“It all started with Amba, she’s usually so sweet and bubbly, she started to change. we thought it was just her having a hard time adjusting to being back after so long, and the stress of watching over Tail, but then when she attacked Jagan the other day, we knew it wasn’t that simple. then it slowly started happening to the others...” she trailed off, sounding remorseful.

Raya’s heart had dropped down to her stomach by the time Sisu finished her story. She had never heard of anything like this happening before. And for it to happen so soon after the Drunn wasn’t ideal. Raya rubbed her hand up and down were it was placed on Sisu’s neck at an attempt to comfort her.

“Don’t worry, Sisu. We’ll just let my Ba know what’s happening and I’m sure he’ll-”

“No!” Sisu yelped snapping out of her revere. She brought her head down so she could look directly into Raya’s eyes.

“No Ba! No people! No one can know about this!” “I know how tempting it is but we just can’t.” Sisu’s violet eyes bore into her own. Raya frowned. She wasn’t about to keep something this serious from her Ba. Especially not after all the time they had been apart. She tried to not let her annoyance seep through into her voice “Sisu, there’s no way we’re keeping this a secret. People, my Ba included, need to know what’s happening. They can help.”

Sisus' face turned indignant. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would want a repeat of the past six hundred years?”

Now it was Raya’s turn to look indignant. “How can you possibly compare the two when you don’t even know what’s going on?”

“You’re right, we don’t know what’s going on! Which is why we can’t say anything about it. Fear of the unknown is even worse than fear of the known!” Sisu said as she tugged at her mane.

“Sisu, I’m not keeping this from everyone, we’ve-!”

“Raya, doesn’t Heart have an archive or something

that might be able to help?” Namaari, who hadn’t said anything since they had arrived, interrupted..

Raya startled, nearly forgetting the other girl was there. She turned to face her.

“Well, yes but nobody is allowed inside. Sacred texts and all that.” Raya said.

“Except for the princess of Kumandra and her dragon and people friend?” Sisu asked, sounding more than a little hopeful. Raya shook her head. “Only the chief and the archivists are permitted to go inside. And besides, if I’m not allowed in, I doubt they’d let you two in. More so Namaari, no offense.”

Namaari gave a small shrug. “That’s fair.”

“Besides if we get caught, let’s just say I would probably never see either of you again.” Raya said.

“Then we won’t get caught.” Namaari nodded to Sisu. “And she’ll make sure of it.” Raya could practically see the gears turning in her head. They shared a look of understanding before looking back to the dragon, who was now looking a bit wary. And rightfully so.

“What? Why...are you two looking at me like that?”

#raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #rayaari #Raya and the last dragon fic #this is my first fic posted on here so go easy on me lol #rayaari fic #I needed to get back into the practice of writing #I wanna say thank you so much again to @hazelevesque4life for putting up with how long it took me to finish the last chapter #alright that’s it #hope you enjoy!

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 117

Apologies for not getting this up at 2pm today EST like usual. Thank you to @baelpenrose for reminding me... There isn’t any particular reason, honestly. I’m taking some time off of work and actually forgot what day of the week it was.

Extra kudos to everyone who found this story this past week and absolutely blew up my notifications.  There are so many of you that I can’t name you all, but you made my heart swell with gratitude. I hope you all enjoyed it!

This chapter is revisiting something that has been hinted at in the story so far, and it’s something I’m setting up for later. 

I groaned as I looked at the sheer size of the files just transferred to my datapad. “Are there seriously that many to go through?”

Alastair took his seat across from me, already looking through some of the information. “When the Council agreed that open cooking classes were a good way to share our pre-Exodus cultures, it had to be expected.  One thing consistent across every nation on Earth…”

“We all gotta eat,” I sighed. Scanning through the files, my mind was already whirring away. “It looks like we can already sort this on a high-level and let the system do some of the work for us.” I grabbed a file and flicked it over to the emitter in the middle of the table. “Three main groups. First, suggestions sent in can be completely sorted by the computer so we can pull out most popular dishes, techniques, etc.”

Alistair nodded. “I will never argue my way into reading repetitive information.  The day I do, please drown me most unpleasantly.”

“Duly noted,” I grinned. With another flick, I added our second category. “Then volunteers for actually leading the courses. The computer can pull them out, then we can go through them once we have the data from the first group.”

Tapping his chin, my assistant made a thoughtful noise. “That should just leave people hand-waving to take the courses. How do you plan to go through that mess?”

“Throw them right out.”

He sputtered before staring at me. “Rather mercenary of you, don’t you think?”

I shook my head. “Don’t get me wrong, I want a total of how many people are showing interest, but that’s it. I’m loving the enthusiasm, but we don’t even know yet which courses we are going to do, or even what order. Once we have that set up, we can figure out how many people per group and create a formal sign up.  Hopefully one we won’t have to manually handle.”

“Mr. Khan can certainly handle that.”

“IF he has time,” I pointed out. “Pranav is grooming him as a candidate to take over on the Council once the colony is established.”

“Rather unfair to the voting process, isn’t it?”

I waved a hand at him. “He’s not the only one Pranav is mentoring. Pranav wants the ship to have a very strong pool of candidates, who are definitely capable of the job, whoever gets chosen.”

“I have to admit, it’s very forward-thinking of him. We are eight years out, aren’t we?”

“Seven and a half, I think. Noah?”

“Yes, Wisdom. By current calculations, we are seven years, eight months, three weeks, and four days from Von, using Terran standard time units.”

“And since we do not have time units established for Von, that’s the best we can do,” I sighed. “Thank you, Noah.”  Between work, therapy, and sparring with my sister and Charly, I hadn’t seen the big guy in weeks. It felt weird to miss someone who was omnipresent, but here I was, wishing I had more time to spend with a giant talking mushroom.

Dragging my focus back to Alistair, I answered his question. “Most of the Council are currently identifying candidates who they can pass the torch to once we are able to step down.”

“Most?”

Spreading my hands, I gestured to the room. “Do you see anyone here other than us?”

Alistair paled. “I beg you, please do not tell me…”

I groaned and dropped my head to the table. “No one wants this position, I swear.”

“Nearly dying several times does not make the role appealing, no.”

“Still alive,” I reminded him. “Besides, you know that has less to do with the role and more to do with me.”

“Well, yes. You have near-death experiences drinking tea.”

“Ass.”

Alistair smirked at me. “Yet you did not say I was wrong. Besides, I would have thought you were grooming Tyche to take over for you?”

“She would kill me for asking and you for suggesting it. Probably. If we’re lucky.”

“Fair…” he admitted, unphased. “Miss Harper?”

“Huynh got to her first.”

“I would have thought he would be more focused on your Mr. MacMaoilir.”

“Somewhat? But there is an arms-length clause to serving on the Council.” When he stared at me, clearly expecting clarification, I went on. “Councilors cannot be related, either romantically or familially. So, Conor would not be able to serve until I step down, which isn’t looking all that great at the moment.”

“And yet Councillor Huynh is still considering Miss Harper?”

“Ersatz sister is not real life sister, legally.”

He snorted. “Rather ridiculous, but if it allows Miss Harper to succeed, I will excuse it.” He tapped his chin again, thinking.

After an extended silence, I gave him a sardonic look. “See the dilemma?  I never thought that I would regret Jokul swearing to never take a position on the Council.  Hell, I told him before he pulled that stunt that I would gladly give him my job if I could.”

“As much as it pains me to suggest, have you considered that rather rude friend of yours?”

“Arthur? Sorry to say, your best friend is being mentored by Eino.”

“Mr. Costa?”

“Grey, duh,” I rolled my eyes. “Arms-length enough that they see no issue with my sorta-brother-in-law, apparently.”

“Your predecessor,” he threw out, exasperated.

“Said absolutely not, and is also being mentored by Eino.”

“Miss Reid, you are sorely in need of a wider social circle.” Scrolling through a list on his data pad, something caught his eye. “Has Councilor Kalloe considered her replacement?”

“Evania Josue is the favorite there,” I admitted.

“That could be our solution.”

“Our?” I teased.

“Very few people have the opportunity to choose their future boss,” he pointed out. “But if Councillor Kalloe steps down before or at the same time you do, Parvati Fletcher would be an option.”

“Huh,” I grunted. “I didn’t consider that.”

“There is also Hannah Bodenheimer, depending if Mr. Khan replaces Pranav,  or possibly Sebastian Reed. His file shows he was actually considered for my position, so he would be a good fit.”

I threw my hands up again. “How? How!? I’ve been trying to find someone for a freaking year and you just gave me three in five minutes.” I scowled and pointed at him as I brought my arms down.

“Rigorously avoiding potential death does wonders for my mental capacity,” he stated drily. “Also, had you asked me a year ago, you would be significantly less frustrated, I believe.”

I made a note on my calendar to speak to the three in question, while trying not to give him the satisfaction of looking too relieved. I’d never live it down. I was already concerned that this entire conversation was already logged right next to the choking-on-tea incident as ammunition for future needling.

I also resisted the urge to hug him in gratitude, largely because I wasn’t entirely certain the urge was actually to hug him, or if it was to choke the smug look off his face.

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#the miys #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #found family #not always fun #aliens #apocalypse #science fiction #hfy #scifi #original sci fi #original fiction #original science fiction #my writing

[wack-ashimself]

I will give it to resident alien...

unlike....70% of most new shows now a days, they ain't playing it like they will last 5 seasons. Or even 3. Let's be honest-for most of these shows, there are moments that you hang onto like 'how did this not happen yet/already?' cuz it was so in their face. The showrunners taunt and tease you with it. The 'will they/won't they's. Relationships to reveals to cliffhangers etc. In almost every single episode of resident alien, the very end of it, they go 'oh, you THOUGHT you knew. Here's something new! Well, now you HAVE to watch next week to find out.' I applaud them for that! I don't want to have to wait 1/2 a season *cough* american gods *uncough* to get anywhere interesting or resolution on something pertinent.

Spoilers!

-a kid instantly knows he's an alien. off the bat. not hiding it.

-they never play him like he's a good guy. The alien is a bad guy learning to be good, kinda.

-the main character finds out he's an alien THE FIRST SEASON! That is a big deal. Let alone not on the final episode.

-and now, super spoilers, they find the dead body that the alien replaced.

NAME ONE SHOW ABOUT SPIES OR ANYTHING SIMILAR THAT REVEALED THAT MUCH IN THE FIRST 9 EPISODES! GO ON!

THE BALLS/OVARIES/WHATEVER ON THESE PEOPLE! They do not give a SHIT about conventional reveals, and they are fucking rocking for it! I like a lot of shows, and many I watch simply for resolution (american gods again!!! WHICH I NEVER GOT AFTER THREE SEASONS IN YA DICKS! you're just all over the place. so many fucking sub plots and shit unexplained. Got rid of sweeney! HE WAS THE MOST LIKEABLE CHARACTER! fuck you), but with resident alien, I look forward to more than the story, but the whole town. It felt..forced at first, but new things sometimes do. kudos to you. I only look forward to what's next. Cuz it's gonna be TIIIIIIIGHT.

Seriously-they found the body of the guy the alien replaced. So he either a-kills the girl that found it (or wipes her memory, but if he can do that, why didn't he do that before?) b-says it is his brother or a clone (could work. Long shot). c-says he died from accident/mistake/crash. d-(what I want to happen but will NEVER happen) they now only see him as a threat, he goes on the run, and moves to a nearby town, trying to convince other town he changed his ways (but he didn't.) This one makes more sense cuz he has yet ONCE to genuinely consider disarming the bomb/calling it off. He sympathizes from time to time, but he is still clearly focused on his mission. It's another reason I like this show-he is NOT a good guy. And they do not try to hide that fact. He is a bad guy kinda learning to be good. But will it be good enough? OOOOOoooo. STAY TUNED!

*Super spoilers.

#spoilers #super spoilers #resident alien #syfy #tv #american gods #fuck american gods #bring sweeney back #kidding cancel fucking american gods #no american gods season 4

[purkinje-effect]

Asking for Trouble

Cait gets a terrible first impression of Melancholy, my Sole.

This blurb has sat in my drafts for a few years now, and I decided to polish it up and finish the thought. Not sure if the encounter will be canon to Anatomy, but it’s here nonetheless. (For those curious to timeline placement, we’ll say this is roughly after the Park Street Station stuff in Fourth Instar, and sometime after his falling out with Mac.)

TWs: Heavy angst, injury and death, drug use and alcohol, explicit description of drug side effects, and violence-baiting.

Cross-posted on AO3 here if you’d rather. Likes, comments, kudos, etc. are all greatly, greatly appreciated.

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Someone at the Dugout Inn had mentioned this place. ‘Choly had come here with a vague recollection that the Combat Zone had once paraded skin. It only served to live up to its name now without any innuendo. Observing a little violence could be cathartic, too, and damn, if he couldn’t use some catharsis after his myriad missteps in Goodneighbor. All his life a spectator, vicarious in every regard.

He belonged here far before Goodneighbor or Diamond City, regardless of looking the part. Who could say a quavering, grey little man wearing a white three piece suit over head-to-toe leather orthotic braces didn’t fit right in among these earthly, physical misfits? He certainly couldn’t see any hackneyed political messes or territory wars erupting here: only people blowing off steam any way they could find it.

He couldn’t entirely say he minded that Angel’s compulsive cleaning habits almost always nettled the Hister Handy into picking up after social locations like this burlesque theater which now showcased cage fights. The possibility any of these raiders might hack it almost avoided him altogether, since he seemed like the only one with a Pip-Boy with which to do so. Such a worry would stick with him long-term after what he’d seen the Rust Devils do to Lowell.

His mind sang praises that Angel had allowed him to resume adding alkaloids to his meal replacement beverage, the Melancholia. Hubeine gave him negligible trouble compared to other options.

The fight unfolding before him was the billed spectacle for the night: for one hour, plus implicit encores, Cait would take down any body foolish enough to step foot into the cage to fistfight her unarmed. He swirled at some bourbon in a shot glass, from his bar seat to one side of the stage. His cataract eyes raised as he watched her continue through the athletic redhead’s performance. Somehow she managed restraint just shy of lethal blows, despite her precision and brute force. Any composure belied the depth of her murderous and bottomless rage. Glassy and lugubrious, he followed her bared teeth and retracted lips, her unblinking eyes, her adrenaline-wired and overworked musculature, her leaden instinctual footwork.

Despite having knocked out seven opponents in twenty minutes already, she wore more of their blood than they did.

In every mannerism, he recognized his enlisted in her. He stopped sipping at his liquor and threw the glass back, only to refill it.

Cait danced with the eighth opponent for about a minute before things escalated. The burly, hairy man pulled a switchblade on her, and managed to gouge her in the arm. In the physical sense, it didn’t faze her. In the mental sense, it had shattered the sanctity of her performance. She roared at him and lunged to sink her teeth into his face.

The crowd exploded. Her ghoul manager stepped in and attempted to stop the match-up, but he knew better than to get between her and the fool. She refused first aid, intent to fuck the guy up. The man kept his distance from her, knife still drawn, clutching at his gushing cheek. she voiced her displeasure to her manager, and he seemed to walk away and leave her again to her opponent... Only to bring her a baseball bat. A bloodied grin ripped across her face as she choked up on it like a familiar friend.

‘Choly smiled quaintly, head askew. The ghoul knew that the crowd demanded results--and more importantly, he knew that the crowd needed to see the consequences of forsaking what little honor they agreed upon in this dive.

She slugged him in the head. As he fell over, she proceeded to beat the shit out of him. The resultant din deafened much how ‘Choly might imagine Fenway Park during the World Series. Not that baseball had been his druthers. God, he wished that had been him on the receiving end. Between her hair, her leather corset, and the carnage, red was so very much her color. Head to toe, she was rage incarnate.

No one wanted to challenge her after that, especially not if they had to step around the bloody mess she’d splattered across the stage.

Time blurred a bit in ‘Choly’s shot glass. The next he looked up, he realized the champion sat beside him to drown herself in a fifth of vodka straight from the bottle. He straightened as coolly as he could, shifting to watch her. He adjusted his half-moon glasses, but could otherwise not obfuscate his alarm. He couldn’t leave alone the familiarity of the untethered ferocity with which she carried herself.

“Forgive me if this is forward of me, but I will get you any chems you want, if you will swear off cyclomorphine. The Psycho.”

“Bull shit,” came a potent Irish twang. She slammed down the bottle. Beneath the indignity in her glower, a tinge of fear felt more like the pressure of desperation. “You suggestin’ I couldn’t possibly fight as well as I do, weren’t I doped up? Your stupid mug hasn’t been here before. I’d remember. Who the hell do you think you are, to go around insultin’ the talent?”

His heart begged hot for her to retaliate. His gloved fingers tapped gingerly at the barely varnished countertop.

“I mean it. Name it. Med-X. Calmex. Anything but Psycho. I’ll even get dirty and brew you the most potent Jet you’ve ever had, if what you really need is escapism and not a low. CM isn’t a chem. It’s a death sentence. And... even if that’s the desired end result, that’s just about as gruesome and painful as it gets.”

She swiveled on the bar stool, resting both hands squarely on her spread knees. Her dead gaze bored through him.

“The fuck do you care so much about this wild theory of yours? You go around cold readin’ everybody’s vices tryin’ to hock your snake oil? Some salesman you are. You’ve got the Charisma of a Mirelurk egg that’s been in the sun.”

He raised his hands in defense, and then said what he meant sooner than meaning what he said.

“I’m not trying to sell you anything. I keep trying to offer solutions to the people I’ve hurt with my life choices, fix the damage rather than enterprise on it. Please let me get you chasing a different devil. Anything but that.”

“You’ve never met me in your life, and I don’t know your name or face from a Molerat in the floorboards. Don’t you try and bullshit me into believing you’re capable of fixing what ails me--and don’t you dare try to take credit for anyone that’s wronged me.”

“I’m the reason Psycho exists in the quantities it does in the Commonwealth. So yes, your pain IS my fault, at least part--”

His jaw seared. ‘Choly found himself sprawled in the floor. He felt around for his glasses, and as they returned to his face, he smiled up at her imploringly from where she stood over him. She cracked her knuckles sourly.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense. Tryin’ t’say I’m the one’s got a chem problem. What color is the sky for you? Forget you.”

Her hard exterior began to show signs of crumblign, in a series of stifled tics, most noticeably a corner of her mouth and the same ear. He could only begin to speculate to what exactly it was she’d taken exception, but he had to keep her attention, hold her contempt. Charm had never come naturally to him, so instead he had to sound the part of insisting at all costs that he was right.

“--Fine, you don’t want to quit. That’s a choice, too. I’ll make however much Psycho you want. You want to go out like that, I can help you with that. But I want you to know just exactly what that death looks like. Abscessed injection sites. Your gums and cuticles bleed. Your tear ducts bleed. It weakens all your capillaries, the tiniest blood vessels in your body. Internal bleeding. Organ deterioration. The numbness doesn’t turn off the pain--it only makes it so you don’t care. Is the anger easier than the hurt? If that’s how you want to go out, I’m not in any position to question it. But you might as well have an expert supplying you with it.”

Rather than help him up, she bore a heel down on his right hand. With an anxious chuckle, he winced, but welcomed being pinned in place. She glared down at him, seething. She didn’t want to hear another word from him, but she had to. Something about him surely sounded more deranged than intoxicated, and it threatened to haunt her.

“Do you know why cyclomorphine exists?” he continued, breath stuttering all the while. “Do you know what it is? Of course not. It was a prewar chemical--I can’t even comfortably endear it a chem--that the military developed so its soldiers no longer felt injury or fatigue. They endeavored to engineer soldiers who wouldn’t quit when hurt, even fatally. And it was only one of a dozen projects of its kind, to exploit the different aspects of human limits. Nothing human came from refining Psycho. It destroys something fundamental to a sense of humanity. The perfect formula didn’t concern itself with whether the patient came back in one piece, or alive at all. The Deenwood Project wasn’t poetic, wasn’t artistic, didn’t make a single beautiful thing. The fact that CM fell into paramilitary use after my tenure ended with the Army... and the fact it now as a result flows freely throughout the country as holdovers from... from the police attempting to keep the peace through intense and consistent violence... The fact is, I’m one of the chemists responsible for cyclomorphine’s end product. Responsible for it being one of the devices of America’s victory at Anchorage... So yes, yes I am. Responsible for what ails you. You’re civilian collateral of the United States Army.”

Her posture shifted slowly from anger to bitterness. She ground her heel into his palm. He pretended the token of her grief got through the reinforced officer’s glove.

“It’s not my place to question the source of your pain, and it’s not my place to insist that I be the one to take it away. I simply know that no matter how great the pain you’re in... Psycho dissolves parts of you, every time you use it to numb you. It begins physically, then advances to spiritually. It robs you of who you are.”

“That’s just the thing. I can’t handle bein’ me. This is the only part I’m fit to play. Besides, Tommy only cares if his juggernaut brings in the caps. I’m beholden to a contract. And the way I see it, you’re tryin’ to come between a man and his money, pokin’ around where your nose doesn’t belong! You’re lucky we’re out here and not in the cage, creep. Either I’m paid to beat your arse, or you’re askin’ to get blackballed.”

He sighed dreamily up at her, almost regretting that she let up on his hand. She drew her fists when his hand went to the lining pocket of his vest, but he chuckled producing a sack of caps.

“I thought you’d never ask. I admire one who rests their agency in someone else’s hands--or pockets, as it were. Surely, this is to the tune of you doing the honors. Add a black eye to the busted jaw. Tack on whatever you like. Ladies’ choice.”

She snatched the sack from him, frowning incredulously.

“What kind of sick flirting game is this? You tryin’ to buy me into bed? I know I’m easy on the eyes, but this isn’t a brothel these days, in case your damaged brain can’t tell the difference.”

He knew he wouldn’t be getting back the sack, but at least he’d tricked her into accepting some fleck of reparations from him.

“How many caps would it take to break your contract? To get you out of here?”

A broken sarcastic laugh crackled out of her. He’d long since surpassed overstepping, having moved on to stepping on toes.

“You’re insane if you think I’d ever want to leave the Combat Zone, especially not on the arm of the likes of you. I’ve got everything I could want here--except right now, not a place without you. You’re the one who needs to lay off the chems. Get your stupid brain-damaged arse out of here before I ask Tommy what I can do with you.”

He whistled for Angel, then retrieved his cane to stand.

“I suppose if you won’t let me help you, obliging you is the least I can do.”

With his Handy by his side, the two left without further question.

On his walk back to Hotel Rexford, he accepted that he’d probably never know the answer, but still he wondered if he had the same or opposite trouble as Cait: Were the two chasing a perpetual numbness, or were they chasing the futility of trying to feel anything again, at any cost?

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout cait #cait fallout #sole survivor #combat zone #melancholy #deplorable karma sole survivor #battle for anchorage #psycho #whump