#thousands of worms!! and I dodged them all

[salovie]

The robins in the rain rejoice

At flooded lawns and thunder’s voice

That drove the worms to open air:

A feast laid out on sidewalk’s snare.

With careful steps I jog the path,

Avoid the storm’s squirmy aftermath;

I leap and prance, a laugh slips free

As my run becomes choreography.

I’m sorry, worms, for your sad plight,

But I’m sure my jig is quite the sight.

#poetry #napowrimo 2023 #NaPoWriMo #prompt #write a poem in which laughter comes at may seem to be an inappropriate time #this one is a little silly but true story #thousands of worms!! and I dodged them all #at least that’s what I tell myself #rhymes #spilled ink #not a haiku #iambic

[thesoftestpunk]

Co- Aquatainenceship 8.

Summary: You’re just two ex-assassins trying to navigate your way through normalcy, but you’re also huge idiots. In an attempt at getting Bucky out of his shell, you offer to catch him up on everything he’s missed. Including trashy YA novels.

Pairing: cw!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader

Word count: 7.3k (sorry not sorry)

A/N: A thousand thanks for the patience. I'm still going through a lot with my grief, and this chapter definitely is a reflection of that. I swear the next one won't take five months...

Warnings: tons of angst, very minor character death, like I didn't even give them a name, mentions of smoking, drinking, and blood, grief?

Series Masterlist

All you can do throughout the night is toss and turn, thinking about how you fully dodged Bucky’s attempt at kissing you. It isn’t the embarrassment of it that keeps you up, either. No matter how hard and how much you think about it, you can’t figure out why. Were you, in the most simple of terms, falling in love with Bucky Barnes? It feels like a slap to the face when you think, maybe. Maybe you are. Or have you already? You try to think back on the last few months. When you had first seen Bucky, he’d been connected to a bunch of wires in the med bay, despite having gone through the rigorous process of getting rid of the winter soldier. So many still doubted it. Everyone except for you, Steve, Sam and Nastasha. Even though Tony could take such good care of you, you still saw the doubt on his face in meetings. It lasted at least four months, Bucky still having been forbidden from being in the field. 

No, maybe you fell for him when he’d shaken your hand after they finally unhooked the wires and Steve insisted on introducing the two of you. Bucky hadn’t even given you a smile or looked you in the eye, but his handshake was soft yet short. His obvious intimidation wasn’t from meeting new people, you understood that immediately. It was because he was afraid you thought he’d hurt you with such a simple touch. You know for certain that was the moment you decided you’d kick anyone where the sun doesn't shine if they had anything bad to say about him, or associate him as his old moniker. Unfortunately you had your own reputation to protect, so you’d give them sharp words and an even sharper glare. Everyone learned quickly that if you were in the cafeteria in the main building, no words were to be spoken about Bucky, good or bad. They were too afraid to be on your bad side. So, you think maybe that wasn’t when you fell in love.

Sitting up with an overdramatic groan, you see the sunlight peeking through your curtains, and decide if you aren’t going to get any sleep, you should just go for a run. As you get dressed, you don’t even think to check the weather forecast, expecting to work up a hard sweat either way. So you grab a tanktop and your most breathable pair of shorts before heading out. Of course, the only person awake this early and freshly showered is Steve, sitting at the living quarters kitchen table. It’s a surprise to see Nat there, slowly eating some oatmeal and reading the back of the newspaper Steve always has. Neither of them take notice of you as you slip by. 

It dawns on you halfway through your run, that you never had a moment of realization of falling in love. Or even in like. You had noticed all the moments he made your stomach twist in endearment, but you had brushed that off because maybe -you’d go to your grave with this secret- Steve had made you feel like that only once. The tiniest of crush had passed quickly, and you can’t even remember what he’d done to squash those feelings you didn’t even know you had, but you had seen him as a brother after that. So, you had thought those kinds of feelings were normal. It just so happened that Bucky made them appear more often. It seemed, you realize with a huff, he had just wormed his way into your heart so slowly over time, that it just felt normal. That it was frustratingly easy to admit to yourself that you were possibly, fully in love. But how the fuck were you supposed to say that out loud? 

As if the weather could sense your mood, it slowly had turned dreary during your run, but it quickly turned into a drizzle. You keep going, not having punished yourself enough, until you feel like your bones are soaked and the feeling in your legs finally starts to go. You know soaking in a hot bath for an hour, you’ll be good as new, save for a slight twinge in your muscles for the next few hours. Suffice to say, you don’t pinpoint the moment you fell, and your run didn’t make you feel much better. 

As you walk toward the kitchen to satiate your growling stomach, your squeaky footsteps announce your arrival. You’re surprised to see Bucky at the table, a book in one hand, and a spoonful of oatmeal in the other. Just like that morning you had gathered up the nerve to speak to him. After brilliantly embarrassing yourself first. 

“Didn’t see you out there today.” You still sound breathless, but ignore it to rummage through the fridge for something.  

“Didn’t wanna get caught up in the rain.” He looks pointedly at your soaked clothes. 

“A little rain never hurt anybody.” There’s a long pause where he just stares at you, expression blank. Almost bored. You ignore it, pretending there wasn’t thick tension in the room, and grab some orange juice and a yogurt. “Come on! Cheer up! I thought you’d be excited about recruitment day.” 

“Afraid you thought wrong.” He dogears the page he’s on and you try to hide your wince. Crossing his arms over his chest, you try to not swoon at the sight of his muscles straining against his shirt. “Do I look excited?”

“Well, you don’t have your turtle face on, so… yes.”

“Turtle face?” Instead, his face screws up in confusion. 

“Yeah. You know. Grumpy Bucky? At least, that’s what everyone else says.” You lean a hip against the counter, and take a sip straight from the container. 

He’s not impressed by either.

“Hey… did I say something to upset you last night?” You figured you should address the elephant in the room, but you go the worst possible route and decide to play dumb. As if you’d had too much champagne and could actually get drunk enough to forget. But you didn’t and you can’t. 

“No. Just fooling myself, I guess.” He mumbles, looking down to his lap, and you’re surprised at the honesty. 

“Fooling yourself? About what?”

As if realizing he’d been so open, his face hardens once more and he shakes his head before returning to his breakfast. 

“Nothing.”

Your ears perk up, slightly delayed to his, at the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall. You both would recognize the softness of them a mile away. Steve enters, eyes landing directly on the container of orange juice in your hand, and then the tossed lid on the counter. You smile sheepishly at getting caught drinking straight from it. Again.

“Come on, Y/N,” he groans as he takes it from you. “Use a glass.”

“Steve, even if I could get sick, it still wouldn’t matter! We share everything else. What’s a little spit swapping?” You laugh as he scrunches his nose and pours a glass for you. 

He continues to lecture you and you just shrug him off with a laugh, not really listening and head toward the drawer of cutlery, but your smile drops when you no longer see Bucky at the table. Turning, you just barely catch him walking away from the sink, book tucked underneath his arm. You open your mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to run off so quickly, but the hardened look of confusion and hurt on his face makes the words die in your throat. He mumbles something about seeing the two of you later and is gone. Steve doesn’t seem to catch onto the tension, but you still plaster on a smile and pretend nothing is eating away at you. Your time in the kitchen doesn’t last long, and neither does Steve’s since he was only grabbing some water. 

It’s rare for Bucky to be the one to give you the cold shoulder. Usually it’s you, unable to put your feelings into words when he’s the one to accidentally upset you. He’s been so open and honest with you lately that it hurts. You feel like a jerk, dodging his kiss and it’s worse now that you’re adamant on playing it off like nothing had happened. That you’re playing dumb, like the champagne had actually done it’s job and gotten you drunk enough to forget. But you both know that’s impossible, which makes your lying feel like a stab in the back.

When you see Bucky again, he’s standing in front of the buzzing recruits, waiting for the rest of the senior agents to show up. He hasn’t spotted you yet, too far and out of his peripheral vision. As always, he looks stern, eyebrows drawn together with a frown. It’s his tough face for when he’s around people. Honestly, he could have possibly invented resting bitch face, but when Steve turns up, he softens. It almost hurts to see. Especially when his face drops the second his eyes land on you. 

“Sergeant.” There was no point in being so formal, considering you basically used to openly flirt with him without realizing.

“Agent.” He responds, voice taught. 

Steve catches on to the tension this time, eyes flitting back and forth between the both of you. You give him a look that says don’t even ask, so instead he turns back to the crowd. 

“I think we’re ready.” Steve says before stepping forward. His presence alone makes everyone go silent and give him all of their attention. As he begins his speech, greeting and explaining how the day would go, you spare a glance at Bucky. From the corner of his eye, he’d been watching until you caught him.

“Did you magically see Raynor between last night and this morning because I haven’t seen you this closed off since the last time you asked me to tag along.” You whisper, knowing Steve could hear, but risk it anyway.

“You know that’s not possible.” He manages between grit teeth, the question annoying him far too much. “And ridiculous.”

“Well, you only act particularly dick-ish after you see her so I thought I’d ask.”

“Very mature.” He gives you a pointed glare. 

“Figured I’d try your method considering nothing else has worked.”

Steve clearing his throat sharply makes the two of you break from your glaring contest. There’s too many other eyes on you as well since he stopped his speech because of your childish bickering.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yep.” You force a smile. “Doing great, Cap.”

He continues, not for long and passes the talking off to one of the senior agents to call out the groups in which the recruits would be split into for the time being. Before you and Bucky can try to get away from each other, Steve stops the both of you, hands on his hips. Uh-oh, you think, Dad Steve is coming out.

“Whatever is going on between the two of you, fix it. Because you,” he looks to you specifically. “Requested you two pair up today.”

Shit. You had forgotten you’d done that. 

“It’s- everything’s fine, Stevie. We can be professional, right Sargeant?”

“Right.”

Steve doesn’t quite look like he believes you, but the commotion of everyone has him leaving with the group that were to show off their stealth skills. You and Bucky, along with a few others, stay with the ones to show off their sparring skills. 

“Believe it or not, but I do actually have problems that don’t involve you.” Bucky crosses his arms, and obviously avoids looking at you. If he did, he’d probably take it back, but he was annoyed with you. 

“Do enlighten me.” You copy his posture, turning toward him but he isn’t going to play into your hand. Realizing this, you sigh and drop your arms. “Y’know Steve isn’t close enough to hear, so whatever you’re too embarrassed to say, you’ve got the floor, Barnes.”

Ouch. 

You haven’t called him that since you met him, and even then, you barely called him by his surname. He keeps quiet, eyes focused on the task at hand rather than this argument. 

“You act like a child, you know that?” You snap, and turn back toward the group of recruits. “Giving me the whole silent treatment. Thought we were past all that shit.”

“I thought we were past that shit too, but you were the one who shut down.” It surprises you when Bucky turns his back toward the recruits to face you. There’s hurt in his eyes but you aren’t sure what he’s talking about. “You seriously couldn’t see it?”

“See what!?” You throw your hands up in frustration. 

“Either you’re playing stupid or—“

You don’t hear the rest of his insult, your eyes having wandered to some commotion behind his back. It’s easily missed among the crowd of them sparring, but you notice the ginger continue to choke out his partner despite him furiously trying to tap out. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Wait,” you hold up a hand and look around quickly, finding a person you know with a clipboard. “Hey! Who’s the ginger?” 

“Uhh…” she looks down the list quickly, flipping a couple pages before finding a name. “John Walker.”

“What are you…?” Bucky watches you stomp past him, but when he sees the direction you take, he knows nothing good is going to come of this. You already were annoyed, and now you were about to take your anger out on a cocky recruit to be. 

“Walker!” You shout as you rush toward the two, causing the people around them to stop and watch the spectacle beginning. “Walker, tap out!” 

The kid is nearly turning purple when you step in front of them, giving John a rightful shove, causing him to release the other guy.

“The fuck was that, Walker?” You nearly spit, despite kneeling down to check on the young looking recruit. “I said tap out.”

“I was showcasing my skills, as requested.” 

“And we also requested zero injuries.” 

“I think he can walk off—“

“I’m sorry, did you misunderstand the assignment?” You cut him off, the anger in your voice rising. “We’re not looking to kill our fellow recruits, understand?” 

“Like you’ve got such a problem in that area?” He takes a large step that was meant to intimidate you, but you stand your ground and glare up at him. 

You turn your head to Bucky who looks ready to step in. “I’d say that’s another mark, so you’re out Walker. We’ve seen enough, thank you for your time.” 

“What?” He balks at your words. “I’m heavily qualified! Probably more than these children you’re letting in here—“

“That’s enough,” Bucky moves between the two of you, putting you away from the possibility of harm. “You heard her. It’s final.” 

“‘Course you’d stick up for her, Barnes.” John’s eyes are nearly level with Bucky’s, and there’s a fire in them. “Must be easy for the two cold blooded assassins to stick together.”

“Cold blooded?” You guffaw at his weak insult. “Wanna put it to the test, Walker?” 

“Y/N.” Bucky warns sharply but you don’t pay him any mind. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t even think you could pin me.” 

The little pet name is what sets you off, charging toward him, but you’re met with the brick wall that is Bucky’s chest. He’s picking you up by the waist swiftly, as you kick and scream any expletive you can think of, even some that weren’t English. As you’re getting dragged away, a couple security guards usher John from the field, and he goes slightly less quiet than you. 

“That’s enough!” Bucky sets you down far enough away that anyone who isn’t enhanced can't hear. “What is your problem?!”

“My problem?” You can’t help but laugh, looking a little chaotic. “My problem? No. You’re the one who came in with the fucking problem!” 

“That had nothing to do with me. You’re the one who just blew up in front of recruits! If that’s you proving yourself to them, congratulations. You’ve just let them all know you’ve got a short temper.”

“I don’t need to prove shit to them. I’m on the fucking team, Barnes. Been there, done that, got the tshirt to prove it.” 

“You need to go cool off.” Bucky lets his guard down and you see the genuine worry slip through. “I’ll tell Steve you weren’t feeling well.”

“No, I can—“

“I’m not asking, Y/N. I’ll come check on you in fifteen when they rotate.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, wanting to continue telling him off, but you know making an even bigger scene won’t do any good. Besides, the way he said your name always made you melt a little and comply. So you agree with a heavy sigh and head back toward the building. You fume in the common room, trying to calm down but all you can do is think about how you fucked up and that you’re just making everything worse. You’re unable to sit still, legs bouncing and thoughts racing. A burst of anxiety has you getting up and rushing to your room. You need to go for a run. Maybe another four hours will have your mind calm down. What would it hurt? It wasn’t like your body couldn’t handle it. 

“Thought I told you to cool off.” Bucky's voice surprises you, even more so that he sounds calm. Almost teasing.

“I am.” You snap. “Tell Steve I’m not coming back.” 

The sharpness of your tone sets him off.

“You leaving for a month again? Or will it be longer this time?” Bucky watches you dig through your dresser for some shorts.

“I’m just going for a run, Jesus. Just at a park or something. Anywhere but around… here, alright?”

“You can’t just run away anytime things get complicated or you’re unable to work through your feelings.”

“Well, I can’t exactly drink them away, can I? Kirsh made sure of that. I have to put the energy somewhere else since I’m stuck being sober.” 

“And yet you still managed to fuck up that night, hm?” He crossed his arms, almost mumbling the question like he hadn’t wanted you to hear, but when he looks up through his lashes, you know he’s done it on purpose.

“The fuck did you just say?” Where had that anger come from? You’re not sure you’ve ever heard Bucky be so deliberately mean. 

“I’m just trying to figure this all out. Do you think they all see you as weak, so you’re putting on a tough act? That you can’t be soft?”

“You are such a hypocrite!” You scoff, dodging around the real answer. “Unless you’d care to explain how you’re fooling yourself.”

“Not this again,” he grumbles.

“Yes, this again! I was trying to help you out this morning but now every time I bring it up, you get that kicked puppy dog look.”

“Maybe I don’t need your help.”

Your heart drops at the finality of his tone. 

“So… what?” You attempt to hide the tremble in your bottom lip by catching it between your teeth, but it was too obvious to him. “We’re just not friends anymore?”

“’course not Y/N.“ he breathes out, all the anger disappearing, and he runs a hand over his face. He already regrets being so hostile toward you. “It can’t just be… unsaid. Even if I didn’t mean it.”

“Maybe we just need a few days apart.” You don’t know why you suggest it when the thought makes you physically ill. “Cool off.” 

“Yeah.” His response is so quiet you almost miss it. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” 

You rush out of your room, the threat of tears making your eyes burn. In the hall, you pass Steve who tries stopping you unsuccessfully.

“Where are you going?” He shouts at you down the hall, but you ignore him.

You don’t end up going very far since you’re unable to drive without a valid license. Along the edge of the property is a lake, and you take a seat at the end of the dock. You’re too worn out to run, nearly collapsing against the wood. All you needed was a break from that chaos, and the silence finally let your tears fall down your cheeks. You’d both said things you hadn’t meant, but you still can’t help but wonder if that’s how Bucky truly felt. Had you pushed yourself on him too hard? He could have been perfectly fine without your friendship, and now you weren’t even sure if it was intact anymore. 

Steve isn’t sure how much more of your moping he can take, and no matter how many times he asks, you won’t spill. All he knows is that something happened between you and Bucky because you’re both mopey, but neither will tell him why. He knows the one thing that will take your mind off of it, but he always hated letting you go on missions with a distracted mind. It’s one he can’t turn you down for, though. You always stepped up to the plate when there were kidnapped victims involved. Especially when it’s rumored they’re being experimented on. And unfortunately when you found a mission you wanted on, you argued until he relented.

“I need you one hundred percent in.” Steve watched your face for any signs, but you just set your jaw tighter.

“One hundred percent,” you promised.

Two days later, you, Steve and a handful of other agents are on a jet, dressed heavily in stealthy tactical gear. Nat flies, having agreed to wait in the jet in case of a quick getaway. The one to your left is young, possibly younger than you, and his leg shakes the second they’re in the air. 

“Not a fan of flying?” You remember your first time on a plane, stomach rolling at every movement and sound. 

He laughs nervously, almost surprised that you even asked. “Not quite. It’s- well, it’s kind of my first big mission.”

You’re a little taken aback. In your mind, this was nothing. A retrieval such as this was easy. In and out as if you hadn’t even been inside the building, but considering you’ve gone toe to toe with other superheroes, you can see how this is intimidating for him. He probably wasn’t even approved to be in the field when everything was going down with shield disassembling and the civil war between your team. Hell, it could’ve been his first, but something in his eyes says he’s seen some shit. 

“Just think of it like your training. It’ll be a breeze.”

“Right.” He tries to put on his best brave face. 

They trained recruits for any and all situations, even possible alien attacks. This should be a walk in the park. You even looked forward to these types of missions considering how easy and almost relaxing they could be. The thrill of tiptoeing around an almost abandoned building is what kept you hooked. Despite them all almost playing out the same. Steve would take out guards without even a whisper of noise, and you’d meet in the middle, causing a distraction if necessary. You’d all kick ass if the victims were heavily guarded, and then heroically swoop in and save the day, cuffing whatever bad guy tried to be an intimidating villain of the week. Afterward, you’d take care of whoever needed it, mostly the younger victims who looked particularly more terrified than the rest, until the proper authorities arrived. 

So, when you’re met with heavy gunfire the moment you breach the wooded area around the building, it’s certainly a shock. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen this many guards for such a small run-down looking place. You almost tell Steve you might need back up, but the agents start shooting back with a precision even Bucky would be proud of. You’re all able to move forward, gaining access inside, and split up. The young agent is ahead of you, clearing corners quickly, all the fear he had not even visible. 

“Y/N,” Steve’s voice in your ear interrupts the heavy gunfire. “Progress?”

“Definitely very little,” you report back, recalling how few corners you’ve turned. 

“The east side is clear,” he sounds slightly out of breath. “I’ll make my way over to you.” 

There’s brief silence as you turn a corner, and neither of you are met with any resistance. You’re about to tell the agent job well done when there’s a familiar click and the sound of something rolling. You almost mistake the object for a smoke bomb, not expecting someone to be stupid enough to roll one out in such an enclosed hall. You’re both shouting to alert each other, having identified the bomb, but you’re shoved back unexpectedly. Falling onto your back, the sound of the explosion leaves your ears ringing and debris falling on and around you. Once everything stills, you open your eyes and look around with a groan. You can’t even hear yourself as the ringing in your ears lingers, but you see the kid laying not too far from you. Reaching out, you aren’t able to reach him, so you crawl slowly, body feeling stiff from the pain. 

“Hey,” you manage to get out. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I uh…” he sits up slightly, and you see it. All the blood that’s managed to escape already, dripping down his stomach and to the floor, mixing with the dust. Some shrapnel must have gotten him in the blast and he doesn’t notice it until he sees your shock. “Oh. Shit.”

“Don’t move.” You manage to slide up next to him, trembling hands finding the wound and pressing down. He finally feels the pain, whimpering as you try to look past your hands in the way. It’s deep, and big. 

“Y/N?” You hear faintly from down the hall, and turn your head to see Steve running up to the two of you. “What happened?”

“I don’t- I don’t know! Some dickhead threw a grenade and it was too late. We’ve gotta get him out of here. He’s bleeding too fast.” 

Steve kneels down, pulling your hands back just the slightest to assess the situation. He’s quiet for a long moment, not quite meeting your eyes. You know that look. 

He isn’t going to make it. 

“Steve,” you say firmly, trying to not startle the young agent. The kid you don’t even know the name of. “I’m not leaving him alone.”

“I know.” His eyes soften as he thinks. “Shit. Okay, I’ll radio Nat. Keep out of the way. Both of you.”

No heroics. Even if he wasn’t injured, you’re not sure that he would. But you nod, a promise to stay safe and then he’s gone in a flash. Your attention is brought back by his groan, the pain making him squirm.

“Hey, keep still alright?” You press down just the slightest bit, the blood still flowing between your fingertips. “We’re gonna get you out of here. You got any family?”

“Just my brother,” he gets out between gritted teeth. You’re not sure it makes this whole situation better but you just want him to keep talking to stay awake. 

“Older or younger?”

“Younger.” A smile tugs on the corners of his lips and you can see a memory flash across his vision. 

“Always wanted a younger sibling. Bet he’s loads of trouble, huh?”

“Oh, yes ma’am.” He starts to laugh but it turns into pained coughs.

“Oh, please, no need for those formalities.” Not when your hand is nearly in his stomach. 

“Everyone- everyone else has to.” The coughing continues as he struggles to talk. You should encourage him to keep quiet and still, but they won’t make it in time. Not when there’s still gunfire close by. 

“Everyone starts off disrespecting me. You didn’t.” 

“‘M not gonna make it am I?” He’s lost all energy in his voice, barely a whisper. You open your mouth to give false promises but he gives a bloodied smile, teeth stained red, and he shakes his head. “‘S okay. Kind of always wanted to go out with a bang.”

“Kid—“

“Can’t feel much anymore,” he mumbles and his eyebrows suddenly scrunch up. “Who’s gonna tell my brother? ‘M all he’s got left.”

“I’ll tell him, don’t worry.” Tears burn in your eyes at his unexpected panic. “Just- hold on, okay? Then we won’t have to.” 

“It’s okay,” he smiles again as a tear falls over your cheek. How the hell is he reassuring you right now? You were supposed to be doing that for him. “You did the best you could.” 

“Hey, stay awake.” You tap his cheek as his eyelids grow heavy, but it’s no use. You can feel his body grow limp in your arms and he’s stopped breathing. “Come on, you gotta open your eyes, kid.” Nothing, not even a sign of movement, but you don’t want to accept that he’s gone, hand still shaking his limp face. “No, no, you can’t- no! Just- come back to me, alright?”

You aren’t sure how long you’re alone with him, holding on as you cry into his hairline. It feels like an eternity, as his blood soaks into your clothes and stains your hands. It isn’t until you hear faint footsteps in the ear that’s stopped ringing, that you move. Gun drawn, you point toward the noise, but you can barely see past your tears. 

“It’s just me.” 

Steve. 

You realize the sound of distant gunfire has stopped, and Natasha lingers behind him for a moment. When you drop your gun and let out another sob, she rushes to your side, hands delicately moving yours and pulling you to your feet. She leads you through the halls, back toward the entrance, and past all the bodies you’d left behind yourself. On the jet, she wraps an emergency blanket around your trembling shoulders. From the corner of your eye, you see Steve placing the kids body down, and someone brings a blanket over to cover him. It’s quiet on the ride back, and your eyes never leave the white cloth slowly being stained by his blood, despite Natasha’s best efforts to distract you. It was better than looking at the other agents who probably blamed you for their teammate's death. They whisper amongst themselves, but you hear it as clear as day, even over the ringing in your right ear. 

“What’s she crying for?”

It rips the cut in your heart deeper. Lately, it’s all you feel like you hear from anyone. How you’re the killer Kirsh turned you into, and it’s all that you’ll ever be. Staring at the body that belonged to someone so youthful and just alive makes you believe them even more. You’re not sure that you’ll ever get to change. 

“We’ll…” Steve starts once they land, hands resting on his hips and head hanging in defeat. “We’ll debrief in the morning.” 

Slowly, one by one, everyone leaves the jet. Everyone except you. You can’t move until they’re rolling up a gurney to take away the body, and even after that, you stay. It’s long enough that Natasha comes back in to grab you and lead you back inside. She helps you to your room, but you’re still in too much shock to realize. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Natasha removes the blanket, and takes your hands to wash them off in your bathroom sink. You watch as the water turns pink, but you don’t feel your hands turning any less red. 

“Did they find them?” you barely manage with a weak voice. 

“Turns out the scientist had a self-destruct plan in case he got caught.” She refuses to get into the gritty details, knowing they would only upset you more. It still brings fresh tears to your eyes as you nod slowly, understanding what she meant. They were all dead too.

“Did he…?”

“Got shot on purpose. A kill shot.”

You can see her compartmentalizing for your sake, but you all felt it. The pain of a failed mission. Instead of talking about it, she helps peel the dirty and stained clothes off of you, and starts a hot bath for you. You’re close enough that you aren’t embarrassed when she helps bathe you, your muscles too sore and stiff to want to work with you. 

“I didn’t even know his name.” You mutter this as she’s helping you into fresh clothes. “He- oh god. He only had his brother left.”

“We‘ll let him know. Don’t put that on yourself.”

“Nat, I—“ you choke on a sob, trying to keep it down just like the bile that threatened to rise. “I told him I would.”

“His brother will understand if it isn’t you. It isn’t your responsibility. What is, is taking care of yourself and getting some sleep.” 

“Not sure I’ll be able to sleep.” 

“I’ll ask for something to help. Just lay down and I’ll be back soon.”

You’re not sure that you can sit still. The ringing in your ear still lingers, and it’s starting to irritate you, unable to keep you calm. Now that you’re alone, it almost doesn’t feel real. Any of it, and you can’t help but wonder if the other agents had a point. Why were you so upset? You hadn’t even known his name for Christ's sake. What was there to be upset about? Maybe it was the fact that he said he only had his brother, implying that their parents were gone. It was your fault that the brother didn’t even have one person left. It feels like a punch to the chest when it hits you all over again. You took another person from their family and this time, he’d been good. Not like those disgusting, too powerful people you took out before. He had just been a kid, probably just trying to provide for his remaining family. 

You can’t sit still any longer as you spiral further into a dark place. Slipping your everyday shoes on, you grab your things and sneak out of the compound unnoticed. Once you’ve walked far enough away, you order a car to take you the rest of the way to the city.

You stand, nervous, outside Bucky’s apartment door. The last couple of hours are a blur of tears and attempted vices. None of them made you feel better so you went to the one place that could. You were able to slip inside without ringing, so he wasn’t expecting you at all. He must be listening to your pathetic sniffling as you debate knocking, wondering who was standing outside his door. Just as you raise a trembling hand to knock, the door flings open, as if he was expecting you. 

“Look,” you start with a choked sob. “I know you hate me right now, but—“

You’re cut off as he pulls you in for a tight hug. Wasting no time, you wrap your arms around his wide frame, and let the tears soak into his chest. 

“Had me worried sick, y/n.” His voice vibrates against your nose, tickling it more than anything.

“What?” Your voice is muffled until his grip loosens enough for you to pull back to look him in the eye. “I didn’t…”

“Steve called. You thought you could just leave after a mission like that without him worrying? Without me worrying?” 

“‘M sorry.” Your bottom lip trembles and a single tear slides down your cheek. Bucky is quick to swipe it away with the pad of his thumb, causing your heart to jump. You look down, too flustered to look him in the eye, only to find his boots half tied. He must have been in a rush. “Were you going somewhere? I can go if…”

“I was going to look for you.” He tilts your head up by your chin. “You barely go out as is. Couldn’t stand the thought of you alone out there, feelin’ sorry for yourself.” 

You might actually kiss him this time, eyes flitting down to his lips, but he’s turning away before you get the chance. Taking you by the hand, he sits you down on his couch, and goes to make some tea for you. When he returns with a steaming mug, you take it gently and watch as he kneels in front of you to remove your shoes for you. 

“I can—“

“I know,” he interrupts you easily, but continues. 

It’s quiet for a long moment, just you watching him occasionally glance up at you while getting you comfortable. The scent of lavender is strong, something you’ve made for him on sleepless nights. The thought that he had actually gone out and bought something made you a little happy. 

“You’d still go out there and look for me after I pissed you off?”

“You didn’t… Well, you did.” He drops his head, feeling embarrassed over your dramatic fight. “But yes, I would.”

Gently, you take him by the chin, lifting his head until he’s looking back at you. It’s a beautiful sight, honestly, his face going slack with just your touch.

“You weren’t fooling yourself, Buck. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to…” 

“I don’t know that now is the right time for this conversation. You’ve had a hard day, and you need sleep.”

“I don’t want sleep.” You roll your eyes, even though you know everyone is just trying to care for you.

“Then what do you want?” He almost seems amused by your defiance. 

“A cigarette.” 

“You’ve had plenty by the stench on your coat.”

“Oh fuck off,” but you smile. “Okay, I’ll sleep, but you gotta stay. I’m not sure I can be alone.”

“That’s alright.” 

He takes your hand, and leads you to his room. It’s the one room you don’t see very often, and you know he probably doesn’t either. It hardly feels lived in, but he moves around with ease. You wish you had changed into different clothes before leaving the compound because then he’d be offering you something comfortable to sleep in, but you’re already in sweatpants. It wasn’t enough to just be wrapped in his scent, you wanted to wear it and live in it. It’s enough, you try telling yourself as he pulls you close once the two of you are in bed. 

“You wanna talk about it?” He mutters to disrupt the quiet dark, knowing you were thinking instead of sleeping.

“No, I…” you sigh heavily, and adjust your head on his chest. “Well, maybe.” There’s a beat of silence as he waits. “It’s kind of funny, you know, being used to death. But then you see it happen to this… kid. I’m not even sure how old he was, but he was definitely younger than me. He called me ma’am. Which I guess isn’t that funny, but he was one of the very few who didn’t see me as this heartless killer. He said- he said it was okay. I did the best that I could.”

“I’m sure you did that and more.” His platitude doesn’t lift your spirits much, but you appreciate his words nonetheless. 

“I’m not sure how much more I can take, Buck.”

“What do you mean?” He rubs your arm, a better comfort than his words had been. 

“The shit with Walker. It’s how everyone sees me and I’m just sick and tired of trying to prove I’m not that person anymore.” 

“You don’t owe them shit. Someone really smart, but stubborn as hell, told me so.”

“Oh yeah?” You lift your head up, just barely able to see him in the dark of the room. 

“Yeah, probably the most stubborn I’ve ever met.”

“Watch it.” You warn playfully before laying back down. 

“I never hated you, by the way.” His response is soft, opposite of the tightening grip on your arm. He’s nervous, and if the grip didn’t give it away, his racing heart certainly did. “Don’t think I ever could. Think you could forgive this old stubborn idiot?”

“‘Course, Buck.” You burrow further against him, arm falling loosely around his waist. The loud and steady thrum of his heart makes you doze off, the lingering ringing in your ear quieting.

The room is filled with a soft blue hue as the sun just begins to peak over the horizon. Being a light sleeper, Bucky is able to turn off his alarm quick enough before it disturbed you. Before he goes to get ready, he pulls the blanket back over your body, watching as you instinctively burrow further into it. All of his movement around his apartment doesn't disturb you one bit, peacefully sleeping. Once he’s finished lacing up his boots, you stir awake, rolling over and finding the bed empty. 

“Bucky?” You call out, sleep making your voice sound weak. “What’re you doing?”

“I’ve gotta head out.” He leans against the doorframe, watching you blink up at him through squinted eyes. The sun had come up just a bit, but with the clouds, the place hadn’t gotten much brighter.  “Just go back to sleep. I’ll let you know when we leave.”

“No, lemme walk you out.” You go to move the blanket off, but Bucky rushes over, hands stopping you quickly, and tucking you in tighter. 

“Stay in bed.” He smiles at you softly as he cups your cheek with his flesh hand. As he rubs his thumb over your cheekbone, he sees you smile in content and your eyelids begin to fall heavy again. 

“Don’t wanna say goodbye.” You stifle a yawn. Placing your hand over his, you loosely thread your fingers together. “I don’t want you to go either.”

“Here.” Bucky pulls his hand away and doesn’t miss the deep frown you get when he does so. Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the clinking of his dog tags until he’s placing them in your hand. “Hold onto these while I’m gone.” 

Your eyes shoot open at the shock of the cold metal and the fact that he even gave them to you. It’s an obvious reassurement of his return, which calms your nerves, but you’re still going to miss him like hell. You had just made up, which makes all of this even harder. It felt like you would never see him again. Suddenly, you’re sitting up and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

“Be safe.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he feels it on his neck. Your lips are just as warm as your breath. “Please.”

Looking at your wide, worried eyes, something tugs his heart all the way down to his stomach. He almost tells you you’ve got nothing to worry about. That he’s fully capable of taking care of himself, but he knows you just need a promise right now. Platitudes were never something you enjoyed hearing. He finds himself leaning in, placing a kiss to your hairline. 

“Of course.” He lingers, lips finding your skin once more before he’s standing straight. Your arms fall into your lap and you look up at him. He swears he sees tears. Loneliness after a painful loss hurts, he knows that, but he couldn’t talk his way out of this work trip. Not when it was Tony ordering him around. “Stay as long as you want. Just remember to lock up.”

Bucky’s on the fence about saying goodbye, but he remembers you didn’t want to. So, he gives you a quick smile before turning and leaving, picking up his duffle bag on the way out. Carefully, you listen to his heavy footsteps recede down the complex’s hallway. Then, you sit in heavy silence. His dog tags sit heavy in your hand, and you feel a single tear escape. Laying back down, you hold the chain to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut, and feeling a little foolish for getting so emotional. You blame it on the fact that he’d woken you up by mistake, your sleepiness making you vulnerable. Just as you’re drifting back to sleep, you think about his lips on your forehead, the spot still tingling from the contact, and smile.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #co-a #my writing

[o-craven-canto]

Ea, Our Second Chance (12)

12. Species study: the Kurukshetran springbear

(Index)

(< 11. The early days) (> 13. Anatomy of Diplostomia)

(I messed up. At the stage of Ea’s history in which this story is set, all people outside should be wearing a carbon dioxide filter, which they clearly aren’t in the picture.)

(original link)

« Kurukshetran springbear (Barosternon carinatus; Diplostomia : Phoneida). Autochthonous of the red mosaic woodland of Kurukshetra land, in southwestern Inanna... It feeds mostly on mid-sized (30 to 300 kg) fauna. It awaits in a suitable place, typically the edges of a grove with a view on more open ground outside, and uses its powerful hindlimb to pounce on the prey, crushing it under its trunk. The chest of the springbear is reinforced by a thick "keel" of calcite plates. The forelimbs, extremely muscular, are used to prevent the prey from dodging the leap at the last moment, or to pummel it down if necessary. »

– fragment of encyclopedia, recovered from ruins in Toumai, circa 290 AL

« If ever find yourself losing your grasp on hope, remember: your very existence means that every single one of your billions of ancestors, from the dawn of life onward, pulled through against all odds. You have already survived hell countless times; what's one more? » – Isabela Silva, Survival Handbook

They say you never get used to it.

They say you might get used to seeing lions every day, or crocodiles, or sharks – even snakes and spiders and wasps – but the things that live on this planet, they look wrong in some horrible way, and once you've seen them out in the field you're going to see them every time you close your eyes. When you think of them, it's like a worm is gnawing in your brain. Every single Earthborn, every last one, says so.

I don't know. Spiders are pretty fucking scary, if you ask me. They really should have left them behind. But the Earthborns are always going on and on about how the blistertrees look so wrong, and the coilworms look so wrong, and the roofmoles look so wrong, and the color of the fucking sky looks so wrong. The hell does that even mean? How are they supposed to look instead? I've seen pictures of gorillas. Are you telling me those things don't "look so wrong"?

Are they being a bunch of babies? I'm sure they miss home, but goddamn it, it's been sixty years now. Or ten thousand, for all we can tell. Man the fuck up. Advisor Khand is one of them, though. And Commander Samirowa, and General Mansouri. And I don't think they need to man up more than I do. I'm just sick of it. I was born on this planet, my father was born on this planet. There is nothing wrong with being born on this planet. Give it a rest.

I'll say this, though: springbears are scary. Them and wormsharks. Giant dicks filled with teeth. They'll rip you apart one bite at a time. Imagine your flesh was made of jelly and someone came over and started tearing handfuls away, that's how wormsharks kill you. But they're not a problem as long as you stay on the dry. Springbears, though... You're walking through the woods minding your own business, with your smilk goats and whatnot, and then a rover-sized monsters falls out of the sky and crushes you. Just crushes you flat, like a boulder. Your bones snap, your guts splatter on the ground. It eats you chunk by chunk, and then licks you off its chest plates with that freaky tongue it has. You can't even see where some poor bastard was crushed before you, because everything is red and black anyway.

I think I'd rather be got by a scissorwolf. At least their jaws are sharp, they cut you in half and that's it. Thing is, predators don't actually care about killing you, just about keeping you still enough to eat you. If you can't fight back because you're dead, that's cool. If you can't fight back because all your limbs are broken, that's cool too.

I've seen two of them fighting, once. Frightful stuff. They rise on the back leg, lock their arms, and each tries to push the other on its back. I guess that's why they have armored backs; would hate to think what else they'd need to defend from. An Earthborn said they looked like bears when they locked arms like that. Wouldn't know – never seen a bear. But it's in their name, so it checks out. Anyway, you'd have to see the way their arms bulge when they're really giving everything they've got. That's the kind of strength a borehole miner should have, not a goddamn animal.

I've heard that the higher-ups, maybe Khand himself, plan to use them for training. You take a springbear that's sleeping over a meal, blindfold it (pretty sure they go by smell anyway), weigh it down, and tie it to a pillar – and I hope to God it's a well-planted pillar – with a smilk cord. Then you push some poor sod, with a weapon or not, in front of it. Juuust out of reach. If you can keep your position in front of a springbear jumping on you, you can keep your position in front of anything.

Turns out there's a trick to kill them. If you see them coming, that is. They've got their brain between their shoulders, so good luck reaching it, but there's a spot in their chest where a big blood vessel pokes out of the bone plates. If you hit it right, they lose their pressure and collapse, like shooting a football. The matter is that to do that you need to keep your cool in front of a motherfucking charging springbear. I'm not saying you can't do it, but I'd feel more comfortable on a treetop during a thunderstorm, waving a steel rod around, and saying terrible things about God's mom.

I don't look forward to my turn. But if I don't drop dead on the spot, a column of gunrovers won't look so scary anymore. Actually, you know what? Bring it on, you three-legged, slit-faced, freaky-tongued asshole. I bet YOU won't look so scary anymore. We got rid of worse stuff than you, back on Earth.

– Lieutenant Jahangir Turani, personal diary, 62 AL, late spring

#speculative biology #speculative evolution #xenobiology #alien life #worldbuilding #my work #ea our second chance

[flightfoot]

One Does Not Love Shadows Ch. 3 - END

Thanks to @wackus-bonkus-maximus for betaing!

AO3

Cat Walker and Monarch stayed near the angry shadowy maelstrom, unwilling to leave and risk not being able to rescue Emilie if this thing tore down into the basement. Thankfully, it appeared to be more interested in everything going on above the earth than down below it.

Unfortunately, the two of them were well within its range.

Monarch dodged shadowy grab after shadowy grab, using his cane to block any debris the shadow threw at him. The onslaught was relentless, howling winds whipped up by swirling shadows keeping him from ever getting truly stable footing. 

By contrast, this force, this…being, left Cat Walker mostly untouched. Rubble carried on winds blew off course as soon as they entered his vicinity, and the shadows never even attempted to touch him. 

After a couple minutes, Monarch noticed. “Cat Walker, protect me,” he grunted, deflecting a particularly large section of drywall away from his head. 

Cat Walker immediately leapt into action, tackling his father out of the way of the latest hit, pulling him out of the path of the nearest shadow. His years of acting as Ladybug’s protector had honed his instincts and skills, allowing him to cover for Monarch nearly as effectively as he had for his partner. 

The shadows shied away from throwing anything at the two of them, as though avoiding the risk of hitting Cat Walker. Touching and grabbing though, they didn’t seem to be as worried about. 

Adrien gasped as one of the shadows snaked over his hand, touching his Miraculous. Instantly, he felt a burning deep inside, like when he attempted to defy his father’s orders.

Yet…yet it felt different now. Less dangerous, less painful. More like the pleasant burn of spicy food, rather than the searing heat of a stove. 

He slowed down, not trying as hard to dodge the shadows’ grasp. His father had only ordered Cat Walker to protect him, not to keep himself out of reach of this being. 

As tendril after tendril touched him, he felt the bonds tying him up fray and loosen, leaving him breathing easier than he had in a year. 

“Cat Walker, be careful not to let the shadows touch you!” Monarch warned. 

Instinctively he complied, moving himself out of the shadows' grasp. The bonds tightened again, yet… not quite as tight as before. Carefully, he dodged, landing just so the tip of his boot overlapped with one of the grabbing shadows. It was the most he could do. Not quite complying with his father’s order, but not flagrantly disregarding them either.

It was enough. He could feel that small, constant burning start up again, not as strong as last time, but still there. 

Was it his imagination, or did the shadows appear less frantic?

A flash of red crossed his vision. His breath caught in his throat, recognizing the swinging movement. He’d seen it thousands of times before, after all.

Ladybug landed a few yards away, dodging a piece of destroyed fireplace with practiced ease. His heart fluttered at the sight of her, even as his body geared up to start fighting her. 

Her eyes locked on his, and he forgot to breathe. That searching look, that hope in her eyes…did she know who he was? And…what he was?

“Kitty?” she asked quietly. 

He startled, an ear flicking as his eyes widened. Immediately he felt some of his father’s commands worming around him, trying to suppress his reactions. He couldn’t let on about his identity or Chat Noir’s fate.

Yet those orders seemed less solid than before. He couldn’t defy them entirely, but they couldn’t control him as quickly or automatically as they had in the past. 

She sucked in a breath. “It is you, isn’t it, Chat Noir?” her voice shook. 

Monarch chose that moment to intervene, putting himself between Ladybug and Cat Walker. “I did not think you’d lose your memory so soon, Ladybug,” he said coldly. “Or did you already forget about our last encounter?”

She snarled at Monarch, attempting to punch him in the face. Cat Walker automatically moved in front of his father, wincing as he took the blow. “Why are you protecting him?” she asked, her voice colored by disbelief. 

“I—” the bonds choked him again.

“We both have something we want, a Wish to restore what has been lost,” his father said. 

“What did you do to him?!” Ladybug screamed, attempting to kick and punch Monarch. Cat Walker was forced to intervene, blocking the blows. The conflicting orders to both protect Monarch and to avoid the shadows’ grips rubbed up against each other, fraying both of them. The shadows curled over his body, making it easier to breathe once more.

“LET HIM GO,” she yelled, charging at Monarch. This time, Cat Walker was able to slow himself down enough to not intervene, allowing her to land a solid hit on his father. “WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING, STOP IT!”

The shadows chattered, speaking (mostly) coherently for the first time since Monarch’s failed akumatization attempt. “Let him go, let him go,” they echoed, the voice sounding less distorted than it had before, calmer.

Ladybug looked around, wide-eyed. “What—?”

Adrien’s mind churned. He hadn’t dared to hope before, but with the way it’d echoed Ladybug’s demands to free him, and how the shadows seemed to loosen the grip his Amok had on him…these shadows…they seemed to be here to help him. To free him.

The shadows swirled around, attempting to cover Cat Walker. This time, he fought his father’s orders for all they were worth, gritting his teeth as the heat surged through his veins. The shades wasted no time enveloping him, instantly cooling the burn, though not quenching it entirely. 

“The ring!” he shouted, face screwed up in concentration. “Get his ring!”

“What?!” Monarch dodged Ladybug’s next attack. “You should not be able to—!”

The distraction cost him. The shadows weaved around, finally able to cling to Monarch, slowing his reaction speed just enough for Ladybug to grab hold of Monarch’s hand. 

To grab hold of Adrien’s amok. 

Instantly he felt a rush of relief as all of his previous orders disabled, no longer enforced by the holder’s will. 

“NO!” Monarch yelled, grabbing for the ring. “Give it back, Ladybug. It belongs to me.”

“NOT. YOURS,” the shadows roared, as Ladybug brought the ring close to her chest. “NEVER YOURS.”

“It’s mine,” Adrien said. “It—it’s what he’s been using to control me.”

“Control you…?” Ladybug asked. The gears churned behind her eyes. 

He looked away, not wanting to see the look in her eyes when she figured out what he was, what he’d always been. 

He hadn’t expected her sudden, quick side hug as she slipped the ring onto his finger, opposite to where the Black Cat Miraculous resided. 

The surge of freedom that ran through him tasted just as sweet as he’d fantasized. 

The shadows stilled, debris dropping from the sky as they slowly dissolved, the sun’s light cracking through the darkness. Slowly they retreated, running down Adrien’s body, coalescing into a single spot just behind him, leaving a normal-shaped shadow—if shadows had glowing green eyes, anyway. The being let out a single exhausted groan, before closing its eyes, its presence seeming to vanish.

Monarch looked at Cat Walker. “Son, would you really abandon your mother? We could fix this. ALL of this. Every hardship our family has endured, every last moment—all of it could be undone if you would just take Ladybug’s Miraculous.”

Adrien tightened his grip on his staff. “I will not hurt my friends, Father. Not even for Mom.”

“Then I will just have to take them myself,” Monarch said, charging at them. Adrien braced himself, ready to fight alongside his partner, side-by-side, as it was always meant to be.

He tripped as a yellow spindle wove around one of his legs, sending him crashing to the ground.

“What?!” 

“VENOM!”

Monarch froze.

Vesperia shot a satisfied smile at him. “You’re not taking anything, Monarch. If you even can call yourself that anymore, with so few Miraculous in your possession,” she said, taking the Butterfly Miraculous from around his neck. A flash of light ran over him as he detransformed, leaving just Gabriel once more.

“Guys—everyone—how…?” Ladybug asked, wide-eyed, watching as Miraculous Holder after Miraculous Holder emerged from the surrounding rooftops. Carapace, Minotarox, Polymouse, Purple Tigress– every member of the Miracuteam was accounted for, except Rena Rouge.

Viperion landed in front of her. “Just after you left, a shadow dropped the Snake Miraculous in front of me,” he said. “I restarted a few times trying to help with the fight with Monarch, but eventually I figured out that I wasn’t needed there—not at first—but that what you really needed was back-up later. And that I wasn’t the only one it’d distributed a Miraculous to.”

“Viperion filled us in on what was going on,” Vesperia said. “Most of us were already headed this way, thankfully, so it didn’t take too long.”

“Is it true?” Carapace asked hopefully. “Are—are you…?” 

Cat Walker nodded. “Claws In.” With a rush, the light ran over him, leaving him as Adrien once more.

Carapace surged forward, nearly bowling him over with a hug. “I knew it was weird that your father pulled you from school like that,” he muttered, voice muffled by Adrien’s shoulder. “I knew you weren’t just giving us the cold shoulder for no reason.”

Adrien hugged back, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I—I wanted to be with you. To hang out with you, to go to our graduation party, but—”

Carapace’s head shot up. “Our graduation party! No way can you be allowed to miss it, nuh-uh, not happening.”

Adrien tilted his head to the side. “But it already happened?”

“So we’ll throw another one!” his best friend exclaimed. “I’m pretty good at it, I mean, I threw—” Nino choked on his word. “I threw a party in Hawkmoth’s house and got away with it?!”

Adrien stifled a laugh. “And an akuma broke up the party, so…”

“He was still in the house?!”

“You can add that to your DJ-ing resume,” he joked. “Threw a party underneath the nose of France’s most notorious supervillain.”

Carapace laughed. “As impressive as that sounds, I think I’d rather list the make-up party we’re all gonna throw for you.”

“We?” Adrien asked, blinking.

“Of course!” Polymouse said, “You think he was the only one who missed you?”

“I—I thought…” 

“We all worried about you,” Pigella said. “And with Viperion letting us know that you’re Chat Noir too, that you’re alive…” She closed in on him, joining Carapace’s hug.

That broke the floodgates. One by one, all the heroes joined in, embracing him tightly as they murmured thanks that he was okay, that he was alive. Ladybug’s hug was tightest of all.

He was safe.

He was free.

His friends were here.

And he was loved. 

Finally he broke down crying, unable to contain himself anymore. He didn’t have to contain himself anymore.

Later, they’d have to plan how to get the Fox Miraculous back from Lila.

Later, they’d need to figure out what to do with Felix.

Later, he’d have to help gather evidence to ensure that Gabriel and Lila didn’t threaten anyone again.

But right now—in this moment—everything was all right.

#one does not love shadows #one does not love breathing #ml fanfic #Miraculous ladybug #sentiadrien #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #gabriel agreste

[tickle-bugs]

One of a Kind

@amazingmsme I didn't want to post the thing you sent just because of the minor minor spoilers (I hate that we've lost a grip on spoiler culture on the internet so I am overcorrecting to keep my blog safe!) but what you sent was too goddamn cute. Have an unedited thing I wrote in one go. This takes place in the nebulous, non-existent gap between episode 5 and 6! I still haven't see the finale so....this is canon-adjacent-adjacent I guess. Enjoy!

Spoilers for the Loki series under the cut!

Cataloguing variants had always been time-consuming, but somehow Loki was making it take longer. Mobius knew that Loki should’ve gone through his stack already, especially with his reading speed, but he was just staring at one particular file and huffing at increasing volumes.

Alright, I’ll bite.

“I’d ask what you’re thinking about, but I know you’re gonna tell me.” Mobius thumbed through his file on another Loki, one who’d defected from Thanos in 2012 to join the Avengers. They’d pruned him pretty early. Mobius still regretted not being able to pick his brain for a little while longer.

“These other variants are incredible,” Loki scoffed.

“I agree.”

“I don’t understand it.” He stared at Mobius, brow furrowed, and alright, they clearly weren’t getting any more work done.

“Lokis tend to be extraordinary. It’s kinda a thing with you guys.” Mobius slid his files aside.

“Right, but in comparison, I am at the lower end of the bunch.” Loki frowned, gesturing as if this was a matter of grave importance.

“Okay, you lost me.” He folded his hands on the table and squinted at Loki.

“We have an alligator, an illusionist whose powers dwarfed my own, a child who killed Thor, a President--though I can’t fathom wanting to be a part of the American political system--and an enchantress. Those are the variants that we know about. So why am I here helping you?”

“You’re the best of the bunch.” The simplest and truest answer. Loki didn’t seem to buy it.

Mobius dragged his chair around the table and put it in front of Loki, effectively pinning him against the table--well, he could just stand up and walk away, but Mobius knew he wouldn’t. It was part of their thing.

“What are you doing?”

“Just gettin’ closer.” Mobius slotted his knees between Loki’s and pulled his chair as far in as it could go.

“I can see that. Why?”

“I just wanna be close to you, that’s all.” He gave his best convincing grin. Loki visibly softened.

“Loki, you are a genius with a good heart. You’re here because you are, at least in my book, a hero.” Mobius gave his knee a steady pat. Loki puffed with pride.

“Go on.”

“Wow, you are on a perfect swinging scale of narcissism. From self-deprecating to king of the world in no time flat.” Mobius laughed.

“Thank you.” Loki adjusted his tie, missing or ignoring everything but the word ‘perfect’. Mobius bit his lip on a chuckle--he really shouldn’t inflate an already dangerously-large ego, but Loki needed it, he thought. His confidence was all air, after all--smug posturing designed to fill the void of something genuine. Loki could use genuine, for a change.

He looked Loki up and down slowly, deliberately, and an absurd little idea took root in the back of his mind. It had worked in the Time Cell, so maybe...

“Why are you looking at me like that? Wh--Mobius. Mobius. Stop it.” Loki leaned back as much as he could. Mobius grinned and hovered his fingers just over Loki’s torso, dangerously close. Loki sucked in his stomach, looking frantically between Mobius’s hands and his face.

“This r-really isn’t necessary.” The wobbly smile on Loki’s lips told Mobius the exact opposite.

“Nervous giggler, huh?” Mobius twitched his fingers and Loki jumped.

“No.”

“Perfect! Then you’ll hear what I have to say.” Mobius set his fingers adrift, passing languidly over Loki’s spots but never landing anywhere.

“Sylvie’s my favorite because she’s wild and unpredictable. I can never quite figure out what’s goin’ on in that head of hers, regardless of her being a Loki, and it fascinates me. You know I love my puzzles, and cracking open her head like a walnut has been a real highlight of my career.” Mobius’s fingers over Loki’s knee got the first giggles to bubble out, sweet and fluttery, and it took all of his strength not to chase them down.

“But you? You’re incredible. Quick wit, a quicker knife hand, and a will to survive that I haven’t seen in--” Mobius whistled lowly-- “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. Plus, you’re pretty cute. Or, so I’ve heard.”

“You had me wrapped around your finger when we brought you in. I mean, you could talk a desert into bloomin’.” It was the first time in a few thousand Loki’s that he’d genuinely almost been fooled--something about this one, his Loki, just got to him in a way that the others never could.

“I still have you around my finger.” Loki’s smile and rosy cheeks ignited a gentle warmth in Mobius’s chest. Gentle, rolling chuckles flowed steadily from him, walls completely broken down, and if Mobius could keep one memory forever, it would be this.

“Oh, and that laugh. I’m almost jealous. Literal music to my ears. Y’know, the other Loki’s never laughed like this? It was always this fake, snooty chuckle that used to make my skin crawl.

“But not you. You’ve got this damn beautiful giggle. It’s like the old saying goes: every time a Loki laughs, a puppy is born. Or angels get their wings. A little bit of both.” Mobius let his fingers drift upwards to Loki’s ribs and he whined, pitching forward until his forehead hit Mobius’s chest.

“T-That’s not a thing.” The color on Loki’s face had matured into a wonderful shade of cherry, his voice pinching from the sheer volume of emotion--Mobius could actually see him working through it in real time. Another favorite thing that he could never express aloud--how earnestly and easily Loki wore his emotions.

“He speaks!” Mobius swooped his hands in, never touching but threatening, and Loki yelped around some more giggles.

“Stop it.” Loki swiped at his hands, but even at close range, he couldn’t coordinate enough to catch Mobius.

“You’re right, my bad. It’s rude to keep you waiting.”

“Wh--no, nonono, that’s definitely not what I meant--”

“You make it so easy for me,” Mobius sighed wistfully, seeking out Loki’s trick rib as easy as breathing. Loki shrieked, crumpling in Mobius’s arms, and Mobius held him as he deftly took him apart.

“You are a Loki, alright? There’s no doubt about that. But you’re you, and I like ya. Stop worryin’ about the others.” He wormed his fingers under Loki’s arms, then spidered across the backs of his ribs and up towards his shoulders.

“M-Mobius!”

“Excellent point. You also have me. That’s a pretty big deal--I’m one of a kind, y’know. Limited edition. So there’s that.” His hands found solace beneath Loki's jaw, pulling forth jumpy squeaks between...purrs? Huh. He made a note of it as he scribbled his fingers up Loki’s thigh, dodging swatting hands like a stubborn bug. Loki pulled his knee up to his chest, head tilted back in open-mouthed laughter, and Mobius followed him.

“Who’s got an ego now?” Loki smirked, eyes crinkled, and Mobius summoned his best dramatic gasp.

“You take that back!”

#my drabbles #marvel #loki #ticklish!loki #mobius m mobius #writing them as super affectionate but not having them kiss...schrodingers lokius #lokius is super cute though and im starting to get into it now! feel free to tag this as ship if you'd like but it isn't expressly romantic #but it could be if you squint #its just up to you to squint if you wanna see it #no proofreads no edits we die like overcaffeinated writers who are avoiding other tasks by writing #sorry for the abrupt end on this but it just felt right #edit: linked my other loki fic for context at a certain part....realized i referred to it on accident

[antiloreolympus]

9 Anti LO Asks

1. Alright I get exaggeration in drawing characters and maybe I just noticed but Hades ears look huge in the latest chapters????? I draw myself but it’s so noticeable and huge it looks terrible. Also the shade of red of Persephones eyes looks terrible, she should have done like a pale red or just not do “red eyes for coolness” it just looks terrible and doesn’t add anything to Persephone design at the end of the day

2. Like I still do enjoy bits and pieces of LO, I’m interested to know how it’s gonna end, but Im just constantly disappointed in the writing now 

3. I’m the latest non fast pass chapter I still can’t take Persphone seriously. Idk if it’s the writing or whatever but RS just puts certain plot points at a halt. The last cliff hanger “am I a fertility goddess” and in the next chapter We don’t get answers we’re looking for might as well of not made that a cliff hanger if Demeter want going to give us much. Persphone asking if a fertility goddess means there’s a ���few extra carrots” was the dumbest line. Was she being sarcastic? I can’t tell because the fascial expressions are often drawn a little weird. If Persphone is the “straight A” smart student she is, I would think she’d have more critical thinkng skills of why Demeter is hiding the fertility goddess status. Idk I think if RS is gonna write cliff hangers like that she should make sure those questions get answered not dodged or else Dont hype that scene up

4. Oook I have a wicked dumb theory that’s either far from happening or ACTUALLY happening. So remember in that one episode where RS left open another can of worms in ep. 148 at the very end where Kronos was a whole ass skeleton just saying “well well well”. I think that Persephone’s gonna turn giant again and maybe try to fight Kronos if he escapes and she might be all like “YoU cAnT hUrT hIm AnYmOrE!!” And judging by the art style, it’s gonna look goofy as hell and it’s gonna be another “yasaas queen gettem!!!” Moment. I can’t with this goofy ass comic Dx

5. lmao you guys werent kidding about the pom pin, it looks so out of place and passed on. its literally a circle with some spikes on top, how is that so hard to draw a few times over? my god rachel is lazy and overworking her poor team. then again their names arent on it, so why would they care if its bad? let rachel take the fall for it.

6. its not even an ancient greece thing but rather basic history that the rich and powerful did not wear white, their MO was always to show off they had money to afford fancy threads and dyes, so they'd always want colors and elaborate designs instead of undecorated white. maybe shes trying to base it off marble statues, but its well known by now that even those were brightly painted and colonizers from england actually whitewashed them for an aesthetic, so idk where her research is in any of this.

7. idk man maybe its just me but youd think a series that is trying to force a glamorous idea would actually put in the effort for the clothes to look nice, but instead theyre all just boring flat cloth and thats it. no pattens, no accessories, not even interesting cuts or folds or even different colors instead of "white" (its just pink or grey) or black. even in the beginning it tried to make up for it with sparkles to give the illusion of shine, but now it doesnt even bother with that.

8. White didn't even become a thing for brides until Queen Victoria was married in 1840, thousands of years after the timeframe of LO, so why would they have that symbolism in Persephone? More so, as other anon pointed out, Greek weddings especially loved yellow and reds for brides, so why would she be in plain white? Then again the gods of LO somehow have Versailles and 1980s American fashion before either country existed, so RS doesn't care to be accurate in mythology or basic history it seems.

-----FP Spoilers-----

9. Very true on the FP stuff. I think comedic use of a person being a bit jealous of their partners closeness to another can usually be done fine when it’s used not too seriously and the topic is moved on from quickly., but hades instead is just so mean and cruel to hermes for what, having an actual chemistry and friendship with persephone that wasn’t forced on by others and with her dependent on him? esp Bc we know how violently possessive hades is of her for no reason, so what could have been playful jealousy under a better writer is instead him being an asshole about it. persephone being jealous over hera was not done well but it at least made a little sense in the context (doesn’t make it good context) and she didn’t lash out at the people in question, but hades just looks like he’s legit angry persephone has a life and relationships outside of him. i think Rachel was going for “romantically possessive” (which isn’t romantic but go off) but instead he just looks like a creep.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

[voiceless-terror]

Oooo 16 mixed with 39 w Jon for the fluff/angst prompts?

Hello there, anon! Can you believe, that in all of my whump fics, I’ve yet to tackle the bread knife incident? High time we corrected that. The two prompts this is referencing are- “Do you need to go to the hospital?” and “If you don’t rest you won’t get any better.” Had this written for a bit, but I spruced it up and decided to post as I’m working on reconstructing chapters. Hope you like!

“Jesus Christ.”

“I-It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Admittedly, it doesn’t look great.

There’s a trail of blood following Jon to the sink, a bloody handprint or two on the counter (and probably a few door handles), and his shirt is similarly stained, the rumpled white button-up painted with red. The slice (more than a slice, probably a stab) to his arm bled more than he anticipated and is probably still bleeding under the towel he’s currently using to stifle the flow. Jon’s swaying where he stands; the loss of blood has him feeling weak, and the dizziness and dull throb in his head leftover from Michael hasn’t abated. All in all, he must look a mess.

Judging by Martin and Tim’s expressions, this is probably a fair assessment. Martin immediately goes to his side, though Jon flinches away as he tries to reach for his arm. He tamps down the guilt he feels at Martin’s look of rejection. “It’s n-nothing, really-”

“Nothing?” Tim scoffs, slowly making his way over as he dodges Jon’s mess. “We leave you alone for twenty minutes and suddenly you’re finger painting with blood. The hell happened?”

“Did you reopen one of your wounds?” Martin’s hands are hovering above his arm, like he’s trying to approach a skittish animal. “I told you not to pick at them-”

“Uh, n-no.” Jon leans against the counter- his vision’s starting to go, he should’ve sat down instead of puttering about like a fool. “It’s-it’s a new one.” Sufficiently cowed by Martin and Tim’s worried stares, he gently removes the towel with a hiss and yes, it’s still bleeding profusely. Damn. 

Tim hurriedly pressed the towel back down, leading him over to a chair as Martin lets out one of his disbelieving squeaks. Tim’s always been good in a crisis and Jon wants to lean into the touch but something in the back of his mind rebels against it, whispering paranoid nothings in his ear. Wrong wrong wrong. There’s something wrong, something bad. Find out. So instead he flinches out of his hold as soon as he’s sat down, ignoring the exasperated look this gets him and putting pressure on the wound himself. 

“What did you do?” he asks but Jon doesn’t meet his eyes, instead looking down at his lap. “How’d you get that?”

“A-A sandwich.” He can feel Tim’s stare, practically hears Martin’s fretting. “I-I was-”

“A sandwich,” Tim repeats, his voice deadpan. “A ham and cheese stabbed you.”

“No!” Words aren’t making sense, they’re hard to put together. He wants to lay down, he wants to sleep, he wants to be far away from these people and what they’ve done and what they might still do to him. “I cut myself...making a sandwich. W-With a knife. A bread knife.”

“A bread knife.” Martin’s talking now, his voice high-pitched and concerned. “A bread knife did that.”

“Where is it, then?” He wishes Tim would let up, would just take the story and leave him be, let him bleed.

“I-I put it back. I cleaned it and I put it back.”

“Let me get this straight-”

“For God’s sake, Tim- that doesn’t matter right now!” Now Martin’s at his side, hauling him up out of his seat with a steady hand that takes the brunt of his weight as he lists to the side. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I-”

“Why am I even asking? Of course you do.” Martin’s muttering, already dragging him halfway out the door. “I’ll get us a cab. You two will just bicker the whole way. Take care of all this will you, Tim?” He gestures with one free hand to the mess Jon’s made and Tim just sighs wearily, nodding his head. He throws Jon one last glare but it’s weak and more worried than anything. He feels the guilt bubble up again. He should apologize for the inconvenience, tell them what happened, who visited. But then the voice creeps up, starting its chorus in the back of his mind.

He stays silent. He doesn’t speak as Martin takes more and more of his weight and the world tilts around him. He’s in a cab. Martin’s hand is warm and should be comforting but it isn’t. His arm stings and Helen’s gone and Michael’s laughter echoes and he can feel the worms burrowing back in, and over this cacophony of pain is the miserable choir singing wrong, wrong, something’s wrong someone’s there someone’s watching, waiting until they’ve got you alone-

He struggles in Martin’s hold but its weak and must seem more like a squirm of discomfort, for Martin doesn’t let go, just keeps up his murmured reassurances and his touches that sting like a thousand tiny needles.

He doesn’t know how long they’re at the A & E for. He barely registers Martin dragging him inside or talking to the nurses. He watches dispassionately as the wound’s stitched up, his other scabs disinfected from constant picking. Nobody lectures him or says much of anything- one mention of the Magnus Institute shut them right up. Jon is as much thankful as he is discouraged. He really is alone. He feels it even as he’s shoved back into Martin’s arms with a disingenuous smile and a ‘get well soon!’ 

Martin’s eyeing him critically as they wait for the cab; Jon’s too tired to fight at the probing hands that inspect the bandages. “Still your story, then?”

“Hm?” The world is hazy, but Michael’s laughter is starting to fade.

“Bread knife.”

“Oh...yes, yes it is.” He tries for some defiance but his voice is small and weary. Martin sighs in turn.

“You know you can tell me about these things, right? Me o-or Tim, maybe Sasha-”

Jon snorts. “Tell you when I’m making lunch?”

Martin’s face remains serious.  “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

Jon doesn’t want to have this conversation so he nods in a clear dismissal, sighing in relief as a cab pulls up outside. Martin reaches for the car door, helping him in before hurrying to the other side. Jon’s about to tell the driver to take them back to work when Martin interrupts in a no-nonsense tone, rattling off an address with a please and thank you.

It’s Jon’s address.

How does he know my address? Has he been following me? He is the one who found Gertrude’s body, after all. What if- what if-

“I can see your mind going a mile a minute, Jon. What’s wrong?” He startles, moving as far away from Martin as possible and hitting the car door with a wince. Martin continues, his eyes betraying nothing but concern as Jon’s mind spirals. “You’re not going back to work. You just got stitches-”

“How do you know my address?” The words are meant to be an accusation, but they just sound like the bark of a small dog. Martin seems to agree with this assessment because he rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. It takes him a moment to gather himself, and every second makes Jon’s heart beat faster until it’s rabbiting in his chest. What does he know, what did he do?

“You don’t remember, do you?” Martin sounds sad, disappointed. It hurts more than Jon would like to admit.

“R-Remember what?”

“You don’t remember the three times I had to do this, back when you were supposed to be on sick leave?” Jon blinks.

He doesn’t remember much of that time. He remembers the pain, the paranoia, the fear- all of it tuned up to a fever-pitch. Trying to go back to work and being promptly shooed out by Martin, who took one look at his limp and still-bleeding wounds and shoved him back in a cab. Was he covering his tracks? Is that why he didn’t want me around? He has the faintest memory of arms scooping him unceremoniously from the trap door to the tunnels at night, this time accompanying him in the cab and making sure he got home, since Jon had exited the cab early and snuck back several times before. It’s embarrassing and disconcerting, these gaps in his memory. Gaps that Martin has to fill. Martin, who he can’t trust. Martin, who’s talking right now. 

“- really, Jon- if you don’t rest, you won’t get any better. Tim tells me you’ve been skipping physical therapy, skulking about-”

“I don’t skulk-”

“Well, it’s sure as hell not sneaking if you leave a trail of blood wherever you go!” Martin’s voice raises in frustration, though it immediately quiets as Jon flinches, again. He heaves a massive sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose as if fighting off a headache. “We’re worried, Jon. We’re all worried. About you, about Gertrude, this whole mess- but you’ve got to talk to us. You’ve got to let the police do their job. And for the love of god, let us help you. Because-” he swallows, his next words earnest and spent. “-because we’re scared too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Martin’s worried. Martin’s scared. Martin found Gertrude’s body. Martin’s always outside his office. Tim’s tired, Tim’s getting angry. Sasha smiles when she shouldn’t smile. Elias is up in his office, telling him everything’s fine and to rest but something’s watching, something’s wrong, Gertrude’s dead and someone killed her and someone’s coming for you next-

The next thing he knows he’s standing outside the door to his flat, Martin at his side. The door looks like a normal door, but Helen went through a door and didn’t come out. She didn’t come out, and Michael laughed, and there’s a war coming and he’s so stupid, so ignorant-

“Are you going to be okay?”

Jon takes the key from his coat pocket with shaking hands, shoving it in the lock. He doesn’t want to go in but he can’t stay out here, not with Martin who found Gertrude, who knows where he lives. “Y-Yes. You can go. Thank you.”

He’s inside before Martin can protest any further, slamming the door shut and leaning against it wearily. It looks like his flat, he hopes it’s his flat. Martin’s talking on the other side, asking him to call if he needs anything. Jon’s not going to do that, of course. He waits for the inevitable sigh, listens until Martin’s footsteps fade away. He’s safe, for now.

He locks the deadbolt.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073586

#prompt fill #my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #cw blood #injury #paranoia #it's season two and jon's not having a good time #martin tries his best #Anonymous

[the-and-sign-anon]

Rebel of Mandalore: Part Six

Pairing: eventual Poe Dameron x Mandalorian! reader

Word Count: 2,151

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

The first time someone comes to rescue you, it’s Finn. Rey is close behind urging him to hurry. He carefully approaches and undoes your restraints. He helps you to your feet, but your knees buckle so he throws one of your arms over his shoulder. You know the beskar must be heavy, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s good to see you, Trooper.”

“Even better to see you, Lori. Let’s get out of here.”

The three of you make your way through the halls, dodging stormtroopers and whispering frantic directions. When you reach a hangar, Poe is there waiting with your droid and his in front of a getaway ship. You raise a hand to wave at him, but a red saber pierces through him. 

“POE!!” You can’t help the frantic shout as his body falls to the floor. The destroyed head of your droid follows, then BB-8’s as well. 

Finn and Rey are gone, replaced by stormtroopers who drag you back to that horrible room and strap you back in. The faceless, nameless soldiers shut the door on your pained screams. 

The second time you’re rescued, Poe sneaks in alone to free you from your bonds. He makes a snarky comment about saving you, which you chuckle weakly at. He stares into your helmet visor for a moment as if to find your gaze and reassure himself that it’s you. Then you’re on your way again. R4 finds you halfway to a hangar and beeps excitedly at the sight of you. Before you know it, a blaster shot rips through you and you collapse to the cold hard floor. 

Poe is shot next, dropping in front of you. You have just enough time to watch him die and hear R4’s beeping drop off as he’s destroyed again. Then it all goes dark as you sink into excruciating pain. 

You experience your failed rescue a thousand times. Each time, someone different comes to save you and you’re forced to watch them die for your sake. Poe is run through with Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. Finn is tackled by a stormtrooper and the same unforgiving mask he wore for so long stares him down to his death. Chewie falls in a hailstorm of blaster bolts. Rey is choked by Kylo Ren. Your dear old droid is ripped apart by enemy machines. You even see your mother and grandfather lose their lives battling for your freedom. 

The next time you wake up, it’s to a pounding ache in your mind. Kylo Ren stands before you again. If you could see his face, you’d guess he was smirking in satisfaction at your obvious anguish. This had happened every day for the past three weeks. 

“Morning. What do you have in store for today, jailer?”

“Are you ready to talk?”

“Take a guess.”

He stalks around you like a predator. He still seems to think he can intimidate you. He knows you’re afraid, but it’s not him you fear; only the loss he could cause you. But he also knows that anything in your life could cause you loss, so you’re no more afraid of him than you are of an illness or a freak accident. 

“It’s a wonder to me that you don’t feel afraid of any of this.”

“You’ve wormed your way into my mind. You know exactly why you and the First Order don’t scare me like you wish you could.”

“That’s true. But I know something that terrifies you.”

You make a face at him that you know he can’t see beneath your helmet. 

“And what’s that?”

“Lack of choice.” 

Without a second of warning, Ren lunges forward and rips your helmet off. The lights feel blinding then, though you know your helmet doesn’t dim light. Your breath catches in your throat and you choke back an instinctual sob. You know for certain that Ren is smirking proudly at his victory. You’ve broken at the loss of your most personal and valuable defense. 

“Hello there. It’s an honor to see your face. I’d guess few ever have.”

You’re so overwhelmed and shocked that you have no response. Ren twists around in your mind again but your reserve has broken, leaving you in utter misery. Any hope of a real escape is quickly fading now. All you can manage to do is grip onto the important memories; dates, locations, names; and bury them under everything else. You’ll sooner allow this monster to sift through every detail of your life and taunt you with it than let him get any information on the Resistance. 

It takes another week before anything happens. Ren haunts your mind every minute. Even in your fitful sleep, he’s always there. Without your helmet or armor, which was removed shortly after the helmet, you feel exposed and lost. Your creed doesn’t forbid you from wearing it again and consciously, you know it doesn’t make you less of a Mandalorian. But it feels like you’ve lost something irreplaceable. The next time you jolt awake, an alarm is going off in your head. Someone is inside, trying to find you. Rey. She’s looking through your eyes to see the room. Her presence disappears as soon as your eyes meet the mirror one of the stormtroopers placed in your cell to further torment you. 

A few minutes later, your door opens again. You’ve been turned away from the door, but you figure it’s either Ren or another faceless trooper. You can’t stand another heartless First Order crony seeing your face against your will. 

“Don’t you get it by now? I’m not giving you what you’re looking for. And you’ve already pushed to the limit. Dig deeper if you want, but you’ll only destroy it all in the process. Checkmate.” You force a humorless chuckle, though you’re painfully aware of how broken it sounds. 

“Lori?” Finn. If there’s anyone you trust to see you now, you suppose it’s him. 

Once Finn is certain it’s you, he shuts his eyes tight and walks in. He has to feel around blindly, but he finds his way to you. It’s then that you realize he holds a stormtrooper’s helmet in his hands. 

“Finn?”

“Poe’s finding your armor now. Rey is distracting as many people as she can. We need to go right now.”

You tentatively nod, then realize Finn still has his eyes closed. 

“Okay, Finn.” He leans forward, trying not to touch you as he settles the stolen helmet on your head. 

Then he opens his eyes and moves to free you of the restraints you’ve been trapped in for a month. Your knees buckle, just like in so many versions of your failed escape. You aren’t certain this is any more real than all those nightmares. Either way, you let Finn half carry you down the halls. When you reach an intersection of paths, you stop for a second. 

“Finn, how can I believe this is real? You’ve come before, but I always end up back there.”

“It’s me, Lori. I promise. I can try to prove it to you when we get out of here.”

You can hear Chewie call for your attention when you reach a hangar. A group of stormtroopers come up from behind you, but then Rey is there with her lightsaber, deflecting every shot while Poe appears, moving at a dead sprint for the ramp of the Millenium Falcon. Faster than you can process, Finn throws you into the ship, then jumps in after you with Rey just behind. 

As Rey and Poe run for the controls and take off, you crumple to the floor. You’re hardly aware of R4 and BB-8 moving to either side of you while Finn sits in front of you and Chewie lets you lean back against him. Poe jumps the ship to hyperspace before coming back to sit with you as well. You missed it before, but he draws your attention to the sack he’d run to the ship with. 

“Your armor is here whenever you’re ready to put it back on. We can all give you space if you need it.”

You can’t muster up a response. You’re still numb and hollow. So Poe returns to the controls with Rey. BB-8 rolls away to wait out the trip home with Chewie. The only ones who stay are Finn and R4. Finn tries to move, but you catch his wrist and he moves back to your side. R4 moves to your opposite side and extends a small claw hand to rest on your knee. 

“Gar cuyir morut’yc. Gar akaanir cuyir jaon. Tell me what you need, vod.”

“I’m waiting to wake up in that cell with Ren staring at me. I don’t know how to tell that this is really happening.” 

Finn is heartbroken at the sound of your voice. When he heard it in the cell, it was completely unfiltered. It was hard and angry, more than he’s heard before, but it was purely you. Now it’s filtered through a modulator again, but it isn’t yours. You almost sound like you belong in that harsh white stormtrooper helmet. If not for the broken tone and shaking breaths, he would never question it. 

No one else approaches you for the remainder of the trip. When you come out of hyperspace, you flinch, but Finn doesn’t mention it. He just holds you a little closer. Chewie brings you a blanket from the small makeshift medbay on board, which you hold tightly around your shoulders. When you finally land at the familiar old base, you find you can’t move. 

Rey disembarks with BB-8 to run ahead to let Leia know you’ve returned and clear the way for you to get to your quarters. With an affirmative nod, Chewie gently picks you up and waits a moment to let you nestle into his warm fur. Poe and Finn follow on either side with R4 just ahead. Poe has your armor slung over his shoulder and one hand on your ankle while Finn rubs soothing circles over your shoulder. 

Leia comes by at some point to talk, but you can’t tell if any words come out of your mouth. Rey offers to stay with you, which you silently accept. Poe leaves your armor with her and goes with Finn to the mess hall to get you some food. You give Chewie a tight hug before he sets you on your bed and takes his leave. R4 hovers right beside you the whole time. Even when he lets out an involuntary beep that lets you know he’s low on power, he only moves to his charging station when you settle on the floor right beside it. 

Your food is dropped off and Finn gives you a quick hug before he leaves. Poe, feeling completely unsure of what to do and not wanting to upset you further, gently pats your helmeted head and whispers a goodbye before closing the door behind him. You’re alone then with Rey and R4. 

“I’m glad you’re back, Lori. And I’m sorry it took so long to get to you.”

You nod almost unnoticeably, but Rey can tell, so she continues. 

“Poe and Finn have been worried sick about you. R4 too. He nearly tried to fight Poe, and when we were talking with some pirates, he almost attacked them. You’ve got a pretty great droid.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Your voice is softer than you mean for it to be. If Rey can tell, she doesn’t say anything. 

“If you need to talk about what happened, or if I can do anything else to help, all you have to do is ask.” After a moment of thought, she adds, “You can even just reach out in your thoughts and I’ll be there. I won’t go looking into your mind of course, but-”

“Can you look? At what happened, I mean.”

“If that’s what you want. But I’ll never do that without your expressed permission. You’re safe now, physically and mentally. I promise you that.”

“Thank you Rey.” You carefully shift to balance your tray on your lap and eat. 

Rey stayed with you the whole night. She filled you in on every detail since R4 returned with your ship. You knew Leia would be understanding and patient in waiting for an explanation of your month away, but for now all you could think of was sleep. So, with Rey’s gentle help, you curled up in your bed with your standard issue blanket and the additional blanket from the Falcon wrapped around you. Once the lights were turned off, you slipped the stormtrooper helmet off and let it fall to the floor. 

“Goodnight, Lori. Sleep well.”

Though you’re unaware of it, Rey reaches out with the Force to calm your mind. For this one night at least, you feel at peace and settle into slumber without a hint of a dream or nightmare.

Tag list:  @gooddaykate-reads @ghostcorazon @nopesies @caelum-the-part-time-acosmist @tillytheslytherin

Next Chapter

#star wars x reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x mandalorian! reader #star wars x Mandalorian! reader #reader insert #female reader #rebel of mandalore #my writing #haven writes

[levitatingbiscuits]

what about codywan treasure hunters as a little prompt?

Cody often complained, when sufficiently smashed, that his husband was going to get them both killed one of these days. 

(He ended up complaining to his husband about his husband more often than not, considering the level of inebriation required for Cody to complain about anything. Then he’d have to sleep alone when his husband showed his remorse by exiling himself from their bed/tent/shared sleeping bag like some sort of penitent monk. Cody wished they could just have makeup sex like a normal couple.)

Obi-Wan, quite possibly, was going to get them killed today.

“You just had to touch it, didn’t you?!” Cody yelled, dodging a hail of poison darts and leaping neatly over a trip wire.

“It’s an ancient Je’daii holocron, darling, I couldn’t just leave it!” Obi-Wan replied with a rakish grin, artifact in one hand and Cody’s in the other. He gracefully sidestepped a pit trap filled with spikes.

“YES YOU COULD HAVE,” Cody bellowed, manfully resisting the urge to kiss his smug smile off his stupid face.

“And let Ventress find it first and sell it to the highest bidder? No thank you! One of these is equivalent to an entire library! All that knowledge, lost forever to some ignorant trillionaire who’ll use it as a curiosity rather than a treasure trove of historical knowledge? I can’t ethically allow that to happen!”

“All right, all right, cyar’ika, point taken!” Cody replied, pulling Obi-Wan down to avoid the pendulum blade that had nearly cleaved his skull in two. His husband, of course, barely noticed.

“And that blasted Vos helps her do it!” he continued ranting, as if the four of them didn’t regularly go on double dates. “You have no idea how lucky I am to have you now, Cody, the only good thing that reprobate ever did for me was introduce us.”

Kriff, and now he was giving him the eyes, half-soulful and half-coquettish. Cody determinedly digested his butterflies. They’d been married for years, those little bastards should have been long gone by now. 

Instead he still felt like he had the first time he met noted academic and famed archaeologist Dr. Kenobi. Vos had been Kenobi’s companion for remote expeditions, but the pair of them just goaded each other into more and more extreme feats of daring until Vos had ended up breaking an ankle and a few ribs when he’d fallen halfway down a mountain. Obi-Wan had insisted on continuing his work even with the wrist he’d broken catching Vos before he tumbled off a cliff, so Vos had gotten into contact with Cody, because survivalists and guides tended to run in the same circles. Cody took one look at the man with a nasty scrape on the side of his head and his arm in a cast cooing over a parasitic worm and was instantly smitten.

“Put the holocron away, at least. We still need to rappel down the temple wall.”

Obi-Wan actually pouted, the ridiculous man, but gently placed it in his bag while Cody jumped from tile to tile in the giant mosaic they had found earlier, careful to keep to the same order as when they’d come in so that they wouldn’t trigger yet more traps.

Soon they were climbing back down the sheer walls of the massive ruins. They must have been even more awe-inspiring during their prime; Cody could make out crumbling statues and carvings in the walls themselves, though he couldn’t recognize what they were meant to represent. His husband might have more luck, but Cody wasn’t going to let him spend the rest of the day in climbing gear clinging to a rock face with the ground a thousand feet below no matter how he tried to talk him into it.

They had only just touched the ground when they were on each other, kissing fiercely in celebration of their continued survival and success. Adrenalin always made Obi-Wan passionate, but Cody would never complain. He really had no leg to stand on. He just groaned deep in his throat when Obi-Wan pushed him against the temple wall and hauled him closer, one hand buried in his sweaty copper hair and the other pressed against the small of his back.

“Professor Kenobi?!” someone squeaked.

“Obi-Wan, are you really gonna make out with your husband now? You’ll traumatize the intern!” someone else said, mock-scandalized.

Obi-Wan broke the kiss, flexing his fingers against Cody’s hips. Cody groaned for a very different reason than before and turned to shoot a glare at Skywalker, Obi-Wan’s annoying pet grad student, who just smirked unrepentantly. The little shit had stopped being intimidated by him ever since he befriended Cody’s brother Rex, who worked as a holovid stuntman but whose true passion was razzing Cody for all he was worth. Behind him hovered Tano, the undergrad unfortunate enough to have Skywalker as a mentor. She was also friends with Rex, though fortunately her mortification over seeing her favorite professor ravishing his husband trumped her shit-stirring tendencies, at least for now.

“Did you find the holocron?” Skywalker was asking.

“We’re not amateurs,” Cody said, voice low and rough. Tano stifled a nervous giggle.

“Great! Dean Palpatine will be thrilled. If you give it to him he said he’ll have it restored on his own dime!”

“I don’t want this to vanish into his private collection like all the other artifacts I haven’t had a chance to examine,” Obi-Wan said tartly, and Cody smothered a snicker at Skywalker’s offended expression. “I find these artifacts to study them, not sell them. It belongs in a museum! Now if you’ll excuse us, I want to visit the river to take a bath. Cody?”

“It’ll be freezing this time of year,” Cody pointed out, but when Obi-Wan set out, leaving a moody Skywalker and a blushing Tano behind, he was right at his husband’s side. Just like always.

#indiana jones au #codywan #my writing #i really need to practice writing kiss scenes #also this is my 1st established relationship!! #glimmerglanger #i cant really picture him just treasure hunting for pleasure so i took inspiration from the obiana jones au!! #are quinajj and codywan swingers in this au? perhaps 8D

[quillandink333]

Bereavement ~ Part III

BotW Link X Zelda

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore, major character death

Summary: In the wake of the Great Calamity, Link mourns the sudden loss of his beloved princess, who never succeeded in unlocking the sacred power to seal Ganon away.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Masterlist

The time for retribution was now. I let the light of the heavens surge through me. With the combined power of the sacred blade and wish-granting relic completely at my disposal, there was very nearly nothing of which I was incapable. I closed my eyes. With enough focus, soon enough, the soles of my feet were leaving the ground, starting with my heels and ending with my toes. I rose higher and higher into the sky until I was face-to-face with my enemy.

The creature looked straight at me. Its eyes were burning embers, its fangs ten times the size of stalagmites. I was staring death itself in the face. And yet, there wasn’t a hint of fear lingering in my chest.

Ganon lunged at me, its massive jaws unhinged.

I dodged it, soaring high above its head in a matter of seconds.

A grin creeped its way onto my face. Perhaps it would be fun to play with this thing for a short while.

Ganon charged.

I ducked to the south, heart racing with exhilaration.

It charged again, a little disoriented. This time I decided to quite literally give it the runaround.

I had to laugh. Either I was moving at blinding speeds, or Calamity Ganon was as slow as a snail in sand. I let it chase me in circles for a bit, slowing my pace so it could keep up. Then I zigzagged to the side.

Its head turned in every direction. It almost looked dizzy. Then it spotted me.

I dodged its bite yet again, infuriating it even more.

I continued leading our little dance a while longer, wanting to give the beast a fighting chance before I slew it. But no matter how strong its desire to kill me, like it did her, I always stayed an inch out of reach.

Ganon waled in frustration, making the very air shiver. It made another pitiful advance. Again, I waited until the very last second to glide out of the way.

Just when it seemed ready to try and close in on me from above, the beast stopped, fangs dripping with bloodlust and eyes trained on me. I remained still, mocking its inefficacy.

Boom

A beam of red-hot energy just barely missed my cheek. I winced, following its trajectory. Far in the distance, I could see a mountainous cloud of smoke billowing up from an enormous, black crater.

The shot had come from the southwest, from Gerudo Valley. There, I spotted the divine beast once controlled by Lady Urbosa, Vah Naboris, glowing a menacing scarlet and towering threateningly. It stood nearly as high as the shelf it stood upon. It was preparing to fire again.

I felt a rush of adrenaline.

From all four corners of the map, the divine beasts were aiming in my direction.

I glanced up at my original opponent, whose gaping jaws almost appeared to be smiling down at me.

With no time to think, I opened my left hand and held it out in front of me. In it appeared a bow, crafted from a rich, golden crystal, the likes of which I never could’ve imagined.

The beast charged, and I leapt out of the way. It seemed to move at thrice the speed it had before.

Raising the bow of light, I drew it back to my ear, and there appeared an arrow of similar composition already nocked to the string. I took aim at Vah Ruta in the southeast and let my arrow fly.

There was no time to watch it land.

Another beam came straight toward me. I’d just barely managed to see it in time.

It seemed my first shot had missed its target. I tried again, adjusting my aim and praying to no god in particular that I wouldn’t be slaughtered before I could release it.

To my relief, my second arrow flew true toward the beast controlling the machine. A flash of light went off as it hit its mark. The smaller creature’s screams were loud enough to be heard all the way from Central Hyrule.

Just three more, and the monstrosity that had taken my princess’ life would be done for.

It took every ounce of my focus and willpower combined to take down each automaton one by one. Even so, the destruction that occurred in the time it took me to do so was beyond description. In every direction, smoke was rising up, completely obscuring the horizon. I could only imagine how many lives had been lost in this horrific massacre.

I could no longer contain myself. I’d had enough.

My emotions spilled over in an eruption of a battle cry. Sword extended, I charged at my enemy and thrusted the blade deep into its undeveloped skull.

The beast writhed in agony at my unyielding hand. I willed my power to flow forth, letting it grow ever stronger and mightier. The earth trembled. Another blood-curdling shriek spewed from the spectral being’s vast jaws as it was slowly torn apart.

I felt something dark and sinister crawl beneath my skin as I watched the creature wriggle beneath me like a worm in the clutches of a hungering bird’s beak. I envisioned Zelda’s mutilated dead body, and the searing heat of the explosion that had killed her. The memory made my blood boil. It fuelled the flame in my core until it became a towering inferno high enough to reach the heavens.

The sword’s light grew brighter and brighter, enveloping both me and the beast and swallowing up everything in sight. Then in an instant, the light imploded, and the whole world went black.

When I opened my eyes, the sight that greeted me was a ray of golden sunlight peaking out from behind the white clouds.

I brushed the hair out of my face. I was splayed out on my back. The scorched grass I was lying on must’ve been all that had broken my fall when I’d lost consciousness. Somehow, though, I had no trouble sitting up. When I did, I spotted the Master Sword lying on the ground just a few feet away from me, its glow gone.

I stood myself up. The last thing I could recall was my hand being fully submerged in Ganon’s murky, coagulated form. But now, there wasn’t a trace of malice on me. Upon closer inspection, it seemed I’d sustained no injuries of any kind. This, I surmised, was the power of the Golden Goddesses.

The Goddesses... They were the ones who’d put me up to this task. And for what? Now that it was done, what was I meant to do? Where was I meant to go? It seemed the whole world was up in flames. Even if there were survivors, even if I’d saved civilization from certain doom, I had already lost everything. My kingdom, my home, my friends and family, and of course, my very reason for being.

Precious memories of her once again flooded my mind. Zelda, my joy, my angel, my everything, who’d made life worth living simply with the power of her radiant smile.

Then I was hit by the memory of how that radiance had been snuffed out like the flickering flame of a candle. How her body had been ruptured and carved open like that of a little bird struck down by an arrow. How the sight and scent and sound of her trying to move in that state had made bile rise up from the bottom of my throat. My shaking hands came up to cover my mouth.

I collapsed onto my hands and knees. Despite my triumph over Calamity Ganon, I now knelt in complete and utter defeat.

“Link...”

My heart stopped at the faint but unmistakable voice. It was impossible, and yet...

“Link.”

There it was again, this time clearer and stronger. My head snapped up, eyes widening.

“Zelda...!”

Right there in front of me, levitating just above the ground, was my lost love. Though she now took on a pale and hazy appearance, she’d returned to her beautiful, shining self. Engraved in her smile was the light of a thousand suns, just as it had once been.

I tried to speak, but no words came out. For a moment, the thought that I’d died and become a spirit like her passed my mind. But then the feeling of fresh tears trickling down my cheeks and of the earth beneath me brought me back to reality.

The grass swayed in the soft breeze as she knelt down on her knees in front of me. She tilted my chin up with feathery fingertips.

Her eyes gazed deeply into my own, gently rippling like ringlets in a pond. She held my face in her two flawless palms. Her lips brushed mine, not altogether there, though they were just as soft and just as warm as they’d always been. The tears that had formed behind by eyelids couldn’t remain contained, after I’d tried so hard to hold them back for just a little while longer. Then before I could shed any more, it was over.

My lips chased after hers as she drew away, withdrawing her dainty hands from my damp cheeks. She rose, then spoke what would be the last two words she ever said to me.

“Thank you.”

Just like that, she vanished in a wisp of aquamarine.

I let out the sob I’d been holding in, my arms clutching onto one and other as I bent down toward the cold, lifeless ground.

From this day forward, there would be no more holding hands. No more late-night excursions away from prying eyes. No more warm embraces or sweet words of comfort in the low moments. No more waking up in the castle each and every day giddy at the thought of seeing her face once again.

At least now, she could finally be at peace.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #botw zelda x link #botw link x zelda #link x zelda #zelda x link #zelink fic #zelink ff #zelink fanfic #link pov

[labreezy]

KilluGon Drabble

A/N: This is the first draft of something that has been sitting in the docs for months, based off a prompt. I love these boys so much it actually hurts sometimes.

Summary: Killua and Gon attend their first high school party.

-It felt right-

Killua didn’t need to analyze the situation to know that he hated parties. The feeling was rather instantaneous. They're not even a block away before he hears the repetitive music pumping in the distance and when they reach the house littered with obnoxious teenagers, Killua’s initial reaction is to stuff his hands deep in the pockets of his shorts and scowl at the sight. His gaze only softening when Gon nudges him and he sees the sterling expression of pure excitement on his face.

“C’mon Killua, lighten up! It’s fun to do things we’ve never done before.” He says with a face splitting grin that makes Killua’s mind momentarily turn to static. “Think of it as an adventure, like that weekend we spent 20 hours strait playing Greed Island and finally finished collecting the last 7 cards we needed!”

“We survived off of nothing but red bull and chocolate covered gummy worms.” Killua nods, remembering the revered milestone in their friendship.

“I had the worst headache for like a week after that, but it was totally worth it!”

It’s their sophomore year of high school and they’ve been invited to their first party and Killua was very adamant on not going while Gon was very adamant on going.  

Unfortunately for Killua, he’s a huge pushover when it comes to seeing Gon smile.

So here they freaking are.

“This really isn’t the same thing, but whatever – just don’t disappear on me, I’m only here because you were practically on your knees begging for me to come.” Killua says, smirking at his over enthusiastic best friend.

“And I already thanked you like a million times,” Gon grabs Killua by the wrist and starts dragging him towards the front door, “come on!”

“Okay, okay, jeez.” Killua trips over his feet, glaring at Gons fingers wrapped around his wrist, annoyed at the tingling feeling spreading warmth through him at the sight of it.  

Feelings are so stupid.

When they enter the vibrating house Gon lets go and Killua immediately hates how many people are there; girls, boys, goths, people who look like they are way too old to be at a party riddled with inebriated teens. It smells gross, like stale booze, and it’s stuffy, like there is not enough air contained in these walls for anyone to breathe properly, and the not-so-subtle cloud of fruity vape smoke swirling around absolutely does not help.

Killua doesn’t want to be here.

He would much rather be alone with Gon.

Laughing and making dumb jokes. No one to entertain but each other. Maybe they sneak out to the park on 5th and try to one up each other in parkour. Or find themselves at the graffiti plastered skate park, Killua could show off his new tricks while Gon catches records them on his phone. Maybe he could spend the night at Gon’s, playing Stardew Valley into the little hours of the night, shoulders brushing in the dark, Killua could plant crops and steal glances of his focused friend as he attempts to reach level 100 of the skull cavern until their eyes grow heavy with sleep, and they drift away into unconsciousness together and-

Ugh.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t the happiest when he gets to be alone with him.

God these thoughts are embarrassing.

Killua’s not stupid, he knows he has a crush on Gon. After a couple embarrassing google searches typing in questions such as; ‘why do I feel like I’m about to upchuck my lunch whenever I’m with my best friend?’ Killua unfortunately came across some very informative articles listing a few other symptoms he also happened to relate to. Quickening heartbeat? Check. Noticing his little quirks? Check. Are they the first thing you think about when you wake up? The last before sleep? Holy crap, that’s so cheesy and embarrassing and, yes, damnit, let’s just slap a big fat check next to those ones too.  

He just doesn’t know at what point these feelings started to manifest. When did it go from being content to find someone who liked the same things he did -- and wanting to spend time with him, to wondering what those lips he’s memorized the shape of could feel like pressed against his own?

Embarrassing.

Maybe it all started when he confided in Gon about how things at home can get pretty fucked up sometimes, and Gon said that if he ever needed a place to crash, he would sneak him in through his bedroom window.

Or maybe it happened the first time he took Gon up on that offer.

Or maybe it was the fifth time when he found himself frantically tapping on frosted glass at 2 AM, shivering in the November air with stupid tears that would not stop leaking from his stupid face and Gon didn’t make him feel weird about crying, said that he did it all the time and held him like he has never been held before.

That was the first night someone ever told him that, “Everything is going to be okay.”

Okay yeah, maybe that was when it started.

“Where do we start?”

Killua looks to his friend, rolling his eyes at the astonishment on Gon’s face as he takes in the sight of pure teenage debauchery.

“By turning around and going home.”

Gon happily ignores the sarcastic remark, practically skipping down the main hall, dodging a slew of vaping teen girls in short skirts and ripped stockings laughing obnoxiously.  

Killua trails closely behind cursing under his breath.

And maybe it’s more than just a crush.

AN2: UGH I WANT TO FINISH THIS SO BAD - This is just the first part, I have like 2000 more words already written. Probably need to add another 1-2000 thousand and make a 2nd draft to smooth it out and finally be satisfieddddd and post it and put this little fic to rest because it haunts me.

#writing #YELL AT ME TO FINISH IT #screams into the void #killugon #killugon fanfic #gonkillu #hxh fanfiction #hxh fanfic #Killugon fanfiction #hxh #killua #gon #:(((((( #tagslikeadesperatemaniac

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Right of Law, Section XXX

(Faced with top operatives from Odina, the Makuta have difficult tasks set before them.  Zaekura has it far worse, however, as she finally comes face to face with Ekimu.)

Shadows clung to Bitil, weighing him down as he narrowly threw himself clear of Eliminator’s next bolt.  Swinging his arm up, he lobbed a ball of Light at his foe, but the Odinan moved under it to kick Bitil into the pavement.

“I can’t stand it,” Eliminator said.  “You Makuta and Toa command the Elements like soldiers, draw them through your body and bend them to your will.  With the Keeper’s help, I’ve learned a better way.”

Bitil phased half-way into the ground and backed up a few feet before surfacing.  “Please, by all means, continue.”

The darkness of the alleyway twisted as Eliminator slowly moved his arm.  “The shadows always liked me.  In my...past life, I took their assistance for granted--used the advantage they offered to kill as I pleased.  The Great Beings quit tolerating that after I killed General Certavus.  But then the Keeper took me to Odina, taught me to listen to the shadows and become true allies with them.  Now, we fight together to repay that lesson.”

Essentially, Bitil thought, he’s able to control Shadow without actually channeling it through himself.  That’s why my Light attacks don’t bother him all that much.  So, now I know why he has such an advantage against me...but I’m not sure I see a way to overcome it.

“And the shadows hate you much more than I do,” Eliminator said, the darkness around him deepening. “You’ve totally rejected them for your precious Light.  Thousands and thousands of years might’ve passed...but the shadows will always remember.”

The darkness surged towards Bitil.  He turned invulnerable, hoping he could hold on until he spotted an opening. Mid-way through the assault, however, Eliminator struck him with another bolt, and Bitil could feel his strength drop sharply.  He couldn’t hold his invulnerability, and the tide of shadows slammed him into the wall. Dazed, Bitil tried to call upon any of his powers to defend himself, but none came.

“Your arrogance ends here,” Eliminator said.  “There’s no one left for you to command.”

His talons sparked as he took aim.  Bitil pulled on his errant focus, preparing to dodge as best he could, when Eliminator turned his head sharply.  A second later, he leaned to one side, and Azin lashed out from the darkness, swiping a dagger through Eliminator’s aura of shadow.

“Azin?!” Bitil exclaimed, now finding the strength to drive himself to his feet.  “What are you doing here?”

Azin gave a short hiss as he leapt back, avoiding Eliminator’s talons. Eliminator launched a bolt at him, but it swerved before reaching him, instead striking the street about a yard away. While Azin moved back in, Bitil realized that the alleyway was beginning to brighten--the process was slow, but he could soon see three more Rahkshi on the battlefield.

“What--I said I would handle this!  He’s a dangerous foe!”

Azin’s daggers locked against Eliminator’s talons.  The Odinan’s whole body could be seen now, a towering, ebon-armored giant with four appendages on his back holding Kanoka disks.  Straining, Azin shouted to Bitil.

“Well…”  The Makuta paused a moment.  Then, remembering he was still in a fight, he sent Eliminator sprawling with a burst of electricity.  “...Thank you.”

Eliminator was up immediately, only a few faint shadows wisping around him now. “Hmph...more soldiers at your disposal? Are you going to leave them to fight your battle while you retreat?”

Bitil took a few steps forward, using one of the strips of fabric hanging from his armor to polish his sword.  “Odinan, you gravely misunderstand who you are dealing with.  Firstly, my children came to aid me of their own free will, not because I ordered them here.  And second...I’m offended you would so much as imply that I would ever abandon them.”

Eliminator fired a bolt.  Again, it flew wide.

“Oh, you needn’t bother with that.”  Bitil motioned to a blue and purple Rahkshi.  “Meet Imis.  They are a Rahkshi of Accuracy with inverted powers, meaning that they can force all of their target’s attacks to miss.”

Imis twirled their staff with a chuckle.

“You’re already acquainted with Azin.  He’s a Rahkshi of Chameleon, so skilled in stealth that it seems even your friends the shadows couldn’t detect him until he was right upon you.”

Azin stayed low, his eyes fixed on Eliminator.  The Odinan rushed forward, but Bitil parried him and held him in place as Azin darted to the side to strike at his back.

“Tsk, tsk, I haven’t finished introductions yet.  If you’re wondering about the abrupt change in lighting, that would be the handiwork of Daleer.”

Standing at the edge of the alleyway was a black and red Rahkshi.  He trembled subtly, but kept a firm grip on his staff as he held it upright.

“He’s a Rahkshi of Darkness...but that’s never been the most accurate term for the power.  Put more precisely, he can control how much light is in a given area, usually by reducing it...but also by increasing it.”

Eliminator backed off, projecting another force field to block Bitil’s follow-up attack.  Shifting his weight, one of the appendages on his back moved, throwing the disk it carried right at Daleer.  The final Rahkshi intercepted the projectile.  White-hot sparks crackled over xyr light blue armor as xe reached out, and the disk broke into hundreds of tiny pieces on contact with xyr hand.

“And xe,” Bitil said, “is Kerba.  One of the first power inversions I attempted: a Rahkshi of Regeneration turned to a Rahkshi of Molecular Disruption.  There’s nothing in this world xe can’t break.”

“I almost pity them all,” Eliminator said.  “Mutant freaks, because you had to force your will on them before they were even born.”

Bitil stabbed Eliminator’s shield.  His blade may not have pierced it, but his glare easily did.  “Gross misinterpretation is one thing.  But insulting my children is another altogether. Accuse me of subjugating them if you wish--I know for a fact I have not.  Ones such as yourself, leveling baseless disdain at them, are the ones seeking to bind them by your selfish will!  Yet you say you ‘pity’ them, you repugnant worm?  What makes you think you are worth enough to bestow pity upon them?!”

Eliminator dared not break eye contact, his instincts convinced that it was the only thing stopping that glare from smiting him where he stood.  The shadows whispered something, but he couldn’t make out what.  He realized Azin was behind him only as the Rahkshi tackled him to the ground.  Bitil used his Slow powers to give Kerba enough time to get close, destroying Eliminator’s remaining disks, and Azin locked his limbs around the Odinan in a tight hold.  The shadows tried to push him off, but they were far too weak.

“Rrrgh...impossible!” Eliminator said as he struggled.  “I’ve never failed the Keeper before, and I won’t start now!”

Bitil crouched down in front of his prone foe.  “No one likes a sore loser, Odinan.  Accept your failure.”

“No...the Keeper doesn’t accept failure…”

Bitil scoffed.  “Listen to you, going on and on about how much you hate us for ‘commanding’ the elements, when you’re a slave to the will of your beloved Keeper.”

Eliminator said nothing.

“I’ve always been curious: what is it about this mysterious Keeper that drives you all to follow him so fervently?  What sort of being commands such sheer devotion from those who previously couldn’t devote themselves to anything?”

Still, Eliminator said nothing.  Bitil began wondering what to do with him when he noticed the shadows swirling.

“Azin, get--”

The shadows swelled into a fountain of darkness, flinging Azin across the alleyway as they enveloped Eliminator’s body.  Bitil thought he could hear a faint shout, but if it was truly there, it didn’t last for long.  Daleer grunted.  The fountain grew just a bit larger before steadily fading away, leaving not a single trace--neither of it, nor Eliminator.

Bitil tapped a finger against the hilt of his sword.  “Azin, are you alright?”

The Rahkshi hissed as he climbed to his feet.

“Good.”  Bitil turned to look over him and the others.  “Thank you all again--I’m in your debt.  While I’m not...entirely sure what’s become of our foe...suffice to say this particular skirmish is over, and we’d best be moving on.  Has anyone received word from Zaekura?”

The Rahkshi shook their heads.

“Then we must assume she’s still headed for the stadium--I’ll head there. If any of you need to rest, you should withdraw.”

Bitil made for the end of the alley, the four Rahkshi hissing as they followed him. He sheathed his sword, allowed himself a brief chuckle, and then turned all his focus on his goal.

***

Brutaka kicked Ehlek aside, barely feeling his electric counterattack, and then locked swords with Nocturn and pushed against him.  Pridak stood behind them, shaking slightly as he mended a wound in his armor.

“So now you realize you cannot win,” Brutaka said, sending Nocturn sprawling with a jab.  “I possess the ability to absorb antidermis to increase my own power.  It isn’t permanent, but it lasts long enough for a single fight, at least.”

Pridak growled, clutching his wound.

“It is hopeless.  With every injury you sustain, I grow even stronger.  Heheh...I see it’s enough to make even a Makuta tremble in fear!”

“You think this is fear?” Pridak mumbled.  “You are mistaken, Odinan…”

Pridak looked up.  His eyes were ablaze, face twisted into a scowl so hideous his Kanohi became unrecognizable.

“I am simply unable to contain my fury.”

Pridak made a reckless dash towards the object of his ire.  Brutaka stabbed his sword out--an easy move to dodge, but one that would allow him to guide Pridak into a deadlier follow-up.  But Pridak did not dodge.  Allowing himself to be run through, Pridak pressed forward without flinching, leaving Brutaka too shocked to avoid the Makuta’s own swords and earning him a tremendous gash running from his shoulder down over his chest. He could still see Pridak’s hideous scowl burning through the rising plume of antidermis, the blood from his wound painting one side of his mask.

“You…‘born to defeat Makuta’.  Your existence alone is defiance of our holy will.  How dare you?  How dare you exist?”

Brutaka stumbled back.  After making it only a few steps, Nocturn grabbed hold of his ankle, making him trip over backward.  Ehlek pounced instantly, gouging Brutaka with his talons.  Despite the sharp and sudden pain, Brutaka refused to cry out.

“Taking my essence for your own…”  Pridak ripped Ehlek off of Brutaka.  “What makes you think you could ever be worthy?!”

Brutaka made a gateway just in time, escaping as Pridak plunged one sword into the sand he had laid upon.  He re-emerged behind the Makuta, taking in the cloud of antidermis there, and then moved a considerable distance away.  “Haven’t you put it together?  The Great Beings gave me this ability.  They knew a day might come when you Makuta would become a threat, so they set about crafting a countermeasure.  If you Makuta are ‘holy’ for the gifts they’ve given you, then am I not as well?”

He retreated into a gateway as a huge stream of plasma came his way. Opening another above Pridak, he fired a beam of his own, only for Pridak to turn invulnerable, spring up through it, and grab Brutaka by the neck.  “When did I say the Great Beings bestowed our holiness upon us?”

Brutaka pulled back in an attempt to escape Pridak’s grip.  Pridak yanked him out just the same, pressing his mask against Brutaka’s and activating a Power Scream.

“IT IS OURS, AND OURS ALONE!”

The shriek left Brutaka’s ears ringing.  He took in more of Pridak’s antidermis, hoping to use its power to break free.  This time, however, something else came with the rush of strength.  It was a voice.  A voice he could hear all too clearly despite his damaged eardrums.

Retribution...retribution...retribution...

He quickly realized it was Pridak’s voice.  And it was growing louder.

Retribution...retribution!

Pridak punched Brutaka in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.  “You have committed a grave offense against me, Odinan. There will be no mercy for you.”

Brutaka managed to push free, falling into a gateway and trying to clear his thoughts.  “What is this...it’s like he’s inside my head!”

Retribution!  Retribution! Retribution!  Retribution!

It was then Brutaka remembered something he had forgotten a long time ago. Visions of his earliest days came to him, days when the Great Beings watched him experiment with his powers, absorbing vast quantities of antidermis.

“That’s right...if I take in too much at once…”

RETRIBUTION!  RETRIBUTION!

He clutched his head.  It was too late to do anything about it now, and his wounds needed serious attention to boot.  Much as he hated the idea, he knew retreat was his best option, and so he opened up a gateway.

“I’ll come back.  This isn’t over…”

As he crawled out of the gateway, something grabbed him.  Looking up, he realized with horror that it was Pridak, still burning with rage.

“What?!  But I should be--gaah!”

RETRIBUTION!

Pridak hoisted him up.  He realized his mistake: forming gateways required a great deal of focus, and that was something he had virtually none of at this point.

RETRIBUTION!

His thoughts were no longer his own, with Pridak’s essence within him now taking reign of them.  Given that was where his thoughts lay, it was no wonder he had only been able to deposit himself directly at the Makuta’s feet.

RETRIBUTION!

Pridak stabbed Brutaka once more for good measure before dropping him in a crumpled heap.  “You cannot possibly suffer enough for trying to consume me, Odinan.”

RETRIBUTION!

“However...I think I know a punishment that at least seems fitting.”

RETRIBUTION!

Brutaka couldn’t move.  He couldn’t think.  All he could do was watch as Pridak stepped back and threw his arms apart.  Light erupted from his chest, molding into a long, tentacle-like arm that wrapped its fingers around Brutaka and immediately began to pull.  In what fraction of his mind was still his own, Brutaka realized what was happening.

RETRIBUTION!

As his last act, he finally screamed.

RETRIBUTION!

Energy filled Pridak as he finished absorbing Brutaka, immediately using it to restore his armor and replenish his lost antidermis.  He flexed his claws, then his arms, and then reared back to shout into the sky.

“Are you watching, O Great Beings?  This is the fate of any who would try to deny me!  I don’t care if the foe was made to kill me, or even if they made me!  Stand against me...and perish!”

He exhaled loudly.  Holding out his arms, he waited as servants came to take his swords.  Then, he gestured to Nocturn and Ehlek, turned towards the city, and marched.

***

Brandishing a fragment of a railing she had found on the side of the road, Zaekura beat her way into what remained of the stadium, fighting with more than she realized she had against the current of Skull Spiders in relentless pursuit of its source.  A group of Toa controlled by the creatures came into view.  Even as they raised their weapons, Zaekura was too furious to slow down.

“Move!”

She acted without thinking.  Elemental powers came flying towards her, but the compromised faculties of their wielders slowed them considerably.  Zaekura tumbled through an opening, stayed low as she knocked the Toa’s feet out from under them, and then sprang forward without a second thought, knowing the Rahkshi were already incapacitating them.  Soon she reached the room where the spiders’ pen was kept, and finally she stopped. Up ahead, back to her as he surveyed the ruined arena, stood Ekimu.

“You.”

Zaekura stalked forward.  Ahkmou, still under the thrall of a Skull Spider, stepped towards her, but she batted him aside without missing a beat.  Halfway across the room, she collided with something--an invisible wall keeping Ekimu safe.  She began to bash her makeshift weapon against it.

“C’mere you coward!  I’m gonna make you pay for this mess!”

Ekimu slowly turned to face her.  “You aren’t getting through.”

Zaekura swung harder.

“Look at you.  You think emotions are going to win this?  Pathetic.  Here we thought you were evolving, and you’re still nowhere near us.”

“Shut up!  You call giving up your sense of decency ‘evolution’?  What idiot would actually think that’s an improvement?!”

With her next swing, the metal rod she was carrying snapped in two.  The broken piece smacked into her head, opening a small wound.  Adjusting her grip, she continued with the part she still had, jamming the broken end into the barrier.

“You’re bleeding,” Ekimu said.

“I know!”

He shook his head.  “See? You’re getting carried away, raging against me instead of trying to solve the problem.  How stupid.”

Must as she hated to admit it, he had a point.  Reluctantly, Zaekura tore herself away from the barrier, examining the pen as thoroughly as her rage would allow.  “...Well?  Great Beings love talking about their work, right?”

Ekimu took a few steps closer.  “What’s there to tell?  You’ve seen what they can do.”

Zaekura crouched next to the pen.  “Right, hyper-aggressive mind control bugs.  But like, why?  Why specifically that?”

“I like masks.  Always trying to do something new with them.  Heard about masks that could be used to control others, so I wanted to put a spin on it.”

“...Okay, not sure what I expected.  The heck kind of stasis field is this--how did they all fit?  Does it distort space?”

Ekimu didn’t say anything.

“...There’s got to be a failsafe.  A recall signal.  How do I trigger it…”

Hearing Ekimu’s tools jangling, she looked over her shoulder to see him drawing a switch from his apron pocket.

“...Right.  That makes sense.  Cool.” Zaekura ran her hands over her face. “Ugh, so that’s no good.  Rahkshi already tried Rahi Control and that didn’t work.  How am I gonna do this…”

She flinched as a sudden headache came on.  After watching her a moment more, Ekimu said, “How about this.  I’ll make a deal with you.”

Zaekura rose to her feet.  “What?”

“Do what I tell you, and I’ll recall the Skull Spiders.  It’s one thing, something easy.”

“...And that would be?”

Ekimu gestured.  Zaekura followed to see Ahkmou, the Toa of Stone still laying where she had sent him flying.

“...I don’t--”

“Kill him.”

Zaekura’s eyes widened.  “W...what?”

“Kill the Toa, and I’ll recall the spiders.”

“No way!  I’m not a killer, you sicko!”

“It’s the only way to save the people of Civitas Magna.  You have to pick one.”

Zaekura clenched her teeth.  “Why? What do you get out of this?”

Ekimu shrugged.  “Curious, I guess.  Want to see if you can make this kind of decision.  That should tell me exactly where you are in your evolution.”

Zaekura walked up to the barrier, jamming the broken railing into it once more. She then turned to Ahkmou.  After a long, long pause, she walked over to him. Stopping just over the Toa, Zaekura glared down at him and tightened her grip on her weapon.  Ekimu craned his neck as she stooped, her back blocking his view.

“...There,” she said after a moment.

Ekimu came closer.  Zaekura stood, leaving his view unobstructed--as far as he could tell, Ahkmou was unchanged.  He turned back to Zaekura, seeing she held a tablet in her hand.  It was the same tablet Ahkmou had used to release the spiders in the first place.

“This has loads of information on the spiders,” Zaekura said as she began typing. “And it’s connected to the pen! There must be a way to…”  She shut her eyes tight, putting one hand to her forehead.  “Not now...not now…”

Ekimu crossed his arms and watched in silence.

Trying to ignore the pain, Zaekura dug through the tablet’s files in search of something she could use.  She could only skim over the vast quantities of information--Skull Spider physiology, dimensional calculations for the holding pen, records of behavioral patterns--but there was no time to waste.  She paused once more as her headache grew, but pressed on until she had seen every bit of data stored.  Lowering the tablet, she stared ahead blankly, and Ekimu waited to hear her say it.

“...There’s nothing,” she murmured.  “Nothing here for recalling them.  There’s nothing I can use to stop them…”

Ekimu held up his switch.  Zaekura turned and stepped away, dropping the piece of railing so she could clutch her head.

“No, I’m not...that isn’t...I...can’t…”

“Those headaches are terrible, aren’t they?” Ekimu said.  “That’s the price of accelerating evolution, though. I’d say it’s worth it.”

Zaekura faced him.  The rage was all but gone from her eyes, replaced with a curiosity.  “...That’s really what they are?  We thought so, but…”

Ekimu nodded.  “Mm-hm. Surprised to see it’s happening to you, though.  I thought it was just that ugly creature that made it happen.  Guess it’s something a little different after all.”

“Creature?  What are you--”  She grunted as the pain grew even worse.  Looking at the tablet in her hand, she remembered what she was here to do--how had she forgotten?  She lamented again the fact that the device was useless to her, full of nothing but page after page of raw data.  Zaekura looked up.  “...Huh. I only took a glance, but...I...”

Skull Spiders were omnivorous.  They could adapt to any climate, though they thrived in temperate conditions.  A handful of specimens possessed enhanced senses--the remnants of an abandoned feature Ekimu planned to reimplement in the next generation.  They were aggressive even towards their own kind, hence why they had to be stored in stasis, though in the presence of other creatures they would put all in-fighting on hold.  And for some reason, despite how quickly she had skimmed over all of this, Zaekura could recall it all perfectly.

“Their mind control ability...it’s a targeted link psionic function, with the framework doubling as a way to coordinate the swarm.  Interesting…”

Ekimu raised an eyebrow.

“Hang on.  Doesn’t that mean--”  The next flash of pain brought her to her knees.  Zaekura shouted through her teeth, “No, no!  I’ve got it!  I just...just need...haah!”

She turned the tablet over.  Using the broken end of the railing, she was able to pry off the outer casing, and took a moment to note the placement of all its components.  To Ekimu’s horror, she then ripped them out.

“This’ll work...this will work!”

The pain in her head was constant now, but she worked anyway.  Leaving only a few wires directly connected to the tablet, she began to arrange the components on the ground and made her way over to the pen, feeling down one of the metal posts at its corners until she found a removable panel.

“Yes, perfect!”

She yanked a small gadget out of the post.  The field sparked, wavered, and blinked out, leaving only the skeleton of a box behind.  Zaekura tossed the gadget alongside the rest, and then jumped up and grabbed the top of the post with both hands.  It bent as gravity pulled her back to the ground, and with the help of a kick at its center, she snapped it in two.  She felt like her skull was being ground into dust.  Dropping down on all fours, Zaekura disassembled a few of the components she had laid out in a flash before reassembling them in a new configuration. Arranging it alongside the remaining components, she grabbed the wiring and linked them all together, finally picking up the broken post and taking it back to where the tablet lay.

“Almost there...almost there…”

The pain intensified.  Zaekura curled up, digging her fingers into her head, and whimpered.  Her brain was a boiling puddle, and the fire that had melted it was starting to spread down her spinal cord.  She extended one shaking hand, clawing at the floor, dragging herself over to the tablet.

“Al...most...there…!”

Zaekura pushed herself onto her knees, then onto her feet.  She thrust the piece of post into the ceiling, waiting a moment to be sure it would stay, and then breathed deeply and reactivated the tablet.

“I see,” Ekimu said.  “Those parts will do what you’re aiming for, but you’d need to--”

“Shut up!” Zaekura yelled.  “Just...shut up...already!”

The screen lit up.  Zaekura adjusted one of the wires.  Static briefly covered the screen, and once it stabilized, she opened a window and began typing.

“This...needs to do that...and then...this...to that...and...uh…”

She shuddered violently as the pain continued to spread.

“Th-this...uh...do...that…and...”

She could barely see the screen right in front of her eyes, but she was sure of what she had typed.  Zaekura took another deep breath as she fought to stay on her feet.  Keeping her finger as steady as possible, she reached for the button to execute her new program.

“Done!”

Power surged through the web of components, ultimately erupting in a bolt that shot from the tablet casing up to the post in the ceiling.  With a high-pitched whine, the energy shot outward in a quick-moving pulse, passing through the walls and spreading out over the city.  Then, for a moment, all was silent.  Ahkmou stirred.  The legs of the Skull Spider controlling him snapped open, and the creature peeled itself off of the Toa’s face.

Zaekura grinned.  “Yes…”

The spider then scuttled off, leaving the room and heading down the arena wall.  Ekimu asked, “Where is it going?”

“The Maze,” Zaekura said.  “I changed the...recall coordinates...they’re all headed...for the Maze…”

Ekimu blinked.  Turning to look out the balcony, he saw hundreds more Skull Spiders rushing in the same direction, leaving behind any Toa or Matoran they might have held. “...Huh.”

Zaekura fell back to her knees.  “Ha...haha...I did it…”

Looking at her, Ekimu said, “That...shouldn’t have been possible. You can’t be that evolved.”

Zaekura said nothing--she was panting too hard to form a single word.

“...Well, you’ve made a more pressing issue for me.  Heremus won’t be happy if those things show up at the Maze in force.”

She glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her collapse.

“Too many disloyal Makuta here, and the Odinans are down...alright.  You win.”  He paused to snap his fingers.  “I’m leaving.  But on my way, I’m razing Artidax to the ground for sheltering you.”

His words were distant, muffled.  Zaekura watched as a winged figure materialized next to Ekimu, and in the next instant, they were both gone.  She waited a few more seconds to be sure of it.  Then, her consciousness finally succumbed to the pain.

“Zaekura!”

She started awake.  A dull throbbing still filled her head, but compared to what she had felt earlier it was nothing.  Blinking a few times, she started to process what she was seeing: Bitil and a handful of his Rahkshi were standing over her.

“Lady Zaekura,” Bitil said, “are you alright?”

“Y...yeah,” Zaekura mumbled, gradually sitting up.  “Sorry to worry you.  I’m alive.”

The group collectively breathed a sigh of relief.  Gently grabbing her shoulder, Bitil said, “Are you sure you should move?  It may be better if you rest until we can get a doctor here.”

“It’s okay, really.  Uh, how long was I out?”

“Can’t have been more than ten minutes.”

“Really?  I wouldn’t expect to feel so well-rested after just that.”  She let Bitil help her up.  “I got rid of the Skull Spiders.  What’s our status otherwise?”

Bitil nodded towards the wall.  A cracked viewscreen was hung there, the damage minor enough that it still functioned. Displayed on it was Gaaki, the Ga-Matoran standing behind a short desk as she spoke to the camera, doing her best to keep her voice clear despite her audible fatigue.

“I repeat,” she said.  “Lord Ekimu unleashed a swarm of some strange creature upon the city, one capable of taking control of the minds of beings who wear Kanohi!  At this moment, they seem to be retreating, but exercise caution! From what we’ve seen, control is absolute: you will be unable to protect yourself from danger if one claims you! We will provide updates as they become available.  Until then, I implore Lord Ekimu to take control of this situation he has caused! This--”

As she continued, Zaekura turned back to Bitil.  “That seems good.  Assuming people believe her, I guess…”

“Many already do,” Bitil said.  “All resistance has stopped.  If the spiders are truly taken care of, then we should be able to leave here unimpeded.”

“Oh. Great!  Let’s go, then, we…”

She faced the exit and stopped.  Krika and Yarion both stood waiting for her.

“Uh...hi.”

“No need to worry,” Krika said.  “Yarion, this is Zaekura.  Zaekura, this is Makuta Yarion, Guardian of Civitas Magna.”

Yarion bowed.  “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Zaekura.  I’m afraid I have much to apologize for.”

Krika glanced about.  “May I ask what happened to Ekimu?”

Zaekura grinned and gave a thumbs-up.  “Kicked him out.  He’s running home to the Maze right now.”

“Ah, that must be why Vamprah left in such a hurry.”

“Probably.  Anyway, Yarion...we don’t want any trouble.”

They shook their head.  “Nor do I. I’ve had quite enough of carrying out the Great Beings’ dreadful orders.  If at all possible...I was actually hoping to negotiate terms of surrender.”

Zaekura inclined her head.  “...Huh? Really?”

“Yes.  It’s quite clear to me--and perhaps most of Civitas Magna now--that the Great Beings do not have our best interests at heart.  You, on the other hand, have given us every reason to trust you.  As Guardian of this city, I declare Civitas Magna to be yours, if you will have it.”

Zaekura stared at them.  After a gentle nudge from Bitil, she said, “Oh, uh...yeah.  Sure.  Or, um, I accept.  We’ll, uh, discuss terms shortly--I want to round everyone up first, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.  I think I could also use some time to…”  Their eyes fell to the blasters attached to their arms.  “...ah, compose myself…shall I await you at my office?”

“Sounds great.”

Yarion excused themself then.  Zaekura said, “Hey can someone get in touch with Pridak?  Immediately?”

“I took the liberty of dispatching a messenger while you were still unconscious,” Bitil said.

“Thanks.”  She let out a breath as she sat down on the ground.  “I’m gonna take, like...five minutes, if that’s alright?”

“Worry not, Lady Zaekura.  I’ll gather everyone together while you recuperate.”

“I appreciate it.”

As Bitil departed, Krika said, “Well.  Things took quite a turn, but you indisputably came out on top.”

Zaekura chuckled.  “It’s still processing...but, yeah.  We control Civitas Magna now.  Huh.”

“And we’re allied with those controlling most of Bota Magna, as well as Aqua Magna.  Not to mention the powerful claim we’ve staked on Bara Magna.”

Zaekura nodded, then rested her head in one hand.  I can’t believe we’ve come this far. I mean, there’s still a lot more to do, but...man.  We actually came this far.

#Bionicle #fanfiction #Right of Law #Melding Universe

[tired-college-student-writing]

#WayneAngel: Chapter 2

The Maribat AU by @ozmav and @maribat-archive is all I can think about atm, so enjoy more of this

Summary- After Grayson posts a video on the wrong twitter, Damian feels like he should lose his social media privileges, and possibly his hand. 

Part 1

Part 2 (HERE)

Part 3

______________________________________________________________________

Wayne’s Angel @FashionableInGotham

Thanks for outing my relationship, Dick, now I owe Tim money. 

Marinette paused realizing that no one was going to believe the lone tweet, even as she hit send on the first post of her new twitter account. There were probably a hundred fake accounts popping up already in light of the news. Thousands of theories on her were already flying around the net. 

She probably had a zillion texts from her classmates about the video, but she had taken one look at the group chat and missed calls she had gotten from Alya and turned her phone onto do not disturb. She’d check for texts from her actual friends later. 

She sighed and stuck her head outside, and was only mildly surprised seeing the two middle Wayne boys stilling sitting on the patio. 

“You guys are still out here?” She asked, only for Jason to flip her off and Tim just bleary lifted his head up, having been taking a nap in the sun like a cat.

“Easy boy,” She soothed Jason, “I’ve just come to tell you the kitchen is no longer off-limits, and that Damian is attempting to murder Dick.”

“What did Dickie do?” 

Instead of answering Jason’s question she held up a blue bill between two fingers, “Oh I also owe Tim this,” 

She watched Tim pause mid-yawn and eyes flash to her before his eyes grow large and he cracked up laughing.  

Jason slipped into a cheeky smirk, “No…” 

“Oh yes,” Marinette sighed, “Dick accidentally uploaded the video he took earlier to his public twitter, instead of his private one. #WayneAngel and #MariDami are both trending right now.”  

“The demon spawn might actually succeed in killing him this time,” Tim gasped out, snatching the bill from her.

“Not on Alfred’s birthday, he won’t,” She giggled back before holding up her phone, “Either way, mind helping me enter the celebrity Twitter scene? I feel there’s going to be lots of clean up involved, but I figured the sooner I’m officially introduced the better, but I need someone to confirm I’m me on there.” 

Tim pulled out his phone, “One introduction tweet coming right up.” 

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

Thanks, @AFlyingGrayson for fucking up and winning me the bet with on who would out The Demon spawn’s relationship! 

Anyways, Just wanted to introduce @FashionableInGotham as my actual favorite sibling and the Demon spawn’s real, flesh and blood, girlfriend, Marinette.

With the tweet was a picture that Tim had snapped of the three of them chilling on the porch, Marinette perched on the armrest of Tim’s chair as the boy waved the banknote in front of the lens, Jason smirking as he gave the young girl bunny ears. 

It’s a very endearing picture, in her opinion and was ranking in retweets in a heartbeat. Her follower count was climbing from the seven Waynes. Marinette wasn’t going to ask how Tim managed to hack twitter to make the missing Waynes follow her, she really didn’t want to know. 

Plausible Deniability and all that.

The tweet was followed quickly by one from Jason. 

Jason Todd Lives @BestTodd

Yes the brat has a girlfriend

Yes I lost the bet on if he’d follow in Bruce’s footsteps 

Yes that’s my real reaction to her picking me up

Yes she’s is that adorable irl, Proof vvv

Yes @FashionableInGotham is my unofficial baby sister and I will fuck up anyone that upsets her

The picture he attached as proof of her being adorable was of her working on a piece, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she concentrated. The reds and purple laying in pieces around her as she snipped and sewed them together. Behind her, you could barely make out Tim and Damian arguing on her chaise. 

There was a sudden bang as the patio door was hung open and Dick tumbled through, phone in hand, with Damian still following him, but the knife had been replaced with his sword. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were introducing Marinette on twitter!” The eldest whined as he continued to dodge Damian’s strikes. Damian stilled, turning to his other brothers. 

“You what!” 

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Easy Damian. It was my idea. Get a good image out there before people have too much time to theorize about how I wormed my way into the elusive Waynes.” 

Tim just snorted, “Ah yes, Marinette the masterful gold digger who had no idea she was dating the Damian Wayne for the first two months of their relationship.” 

The other boys laughed as Marinette’s face turned bright red. 

“You promised not to bring that up again,” SHe whined as her boyfriend came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her. 

“You know you love us, Angel,” He mumbled as he pressed a kiss into her hair, pointily ignoring the fake gagging from Jason and Tim. 

“Sooooo” Dick drawled, bringing everyone attention to him, “We have about an hour we need to start dinner, and two before he and B get back. Who’s up for a little twitter QnA?” 

_______________________________________________________________________

 The group chat was too hectic to keep up with anymore, no one was sure what was happening, until Chloe texted each of them individually and offered up a conference room at her family’s hotel for them to gather and go over what was happening. 

She was a little surprised that they all agreed, especially Lila. The gig was up, there wasn’t a way for her to convincingly spin this turn of events, not when the Wayne’s were already rushing to social media to defend the girl after the video accidentally went up, introducing her under a brand new twitter. 

If anyone saw that the blonde was already following said twitter, she’d claim it was to keep up with any drama that unfolded from little miss no one dating a Wayne. 

After all, she had an image to keep up, she couldn’t just... 

“Chloe?” 

Her head snapped up to see Adrian standing in the doorway. 

“How on earth did you get here so fast?” She asked with a raised brow. 

He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck, “I... might of snuck out...” 

She laughed, “Knew school would be good for you.” 

He grinned sliding into the seat next to her, making her relax. 

Their relationship had been rocky for a while, but after Queen Bee made her official debut, they were working through it. She couldn’t deny the fact that his eyes glowed as she tried her best to be a better person made everything easier

“So have you abandoned your ridiculous high road principle?” She questioned, watching him flinch slightly. 

“You know I didn’t...” 

“Yeah, Yeah,” She sighed waving her hand, knowing it was still a sore spot to him that Marinette had taken the advice so poorly before Chloe stepped up and explained what he had meant. 

Keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself. Messages that had been instilled into Adrian for years, both to keep out of the media spotlight and, after his mother disappeared, to stay at of his father's way. Lies had never been an issue to him since rumors were always flying around the model and the people he worked with, so while it took him a while to see that the lies that Lila told were different than those written in the gossip columns and were actually doing harm. 

Let’s just say the boy was still beating himself up for that, even if Marinette forgave him. Sadly it was too late to have Adrian come forward on his own to out Lila without it looking like Marinette had just gotten him under her thumb so they had been waiting for their chance.

Chloe was glad to say that that day had finally come. 

“Did you know Damian was the boy Mari talked about?”  He asked quietly. 

“No,” She sighed, “Luka and Kagami had no idea either, you’d know this if you bothered looking at your phone.” 

He shrugged, leaning over her shoulder, “I left it at home, Dad tracked me last time I snuck out with it.”  

She huffed a laugh handing over the phone so he could see the... colorful texts from the pair. 

“I didn’t know Kagami knew any swears in French,” He confessed after scrolling through the group chat. 

“My money’s on her learning them from Ms. Couffaine,” Chloe offered lazily, “That woman swears like a sailor.” 

“She lives on a boat,” Adrian counters, “I think that qualifies her as a sailor.” 

“Whatever,” 

They lapsed into silence as Adrian clicked over to the entire group chat to see if he could make any sense out of it now that the flow of incoming texts has trickled off. 

“Are you okay?” She suddenly asks making him arch a brow, gazing up from the phone. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Your lady is in love with someone else.” 

Adrian smiled softly.

 “I accepted that awhile ago Chlo,” He reminded her, back to the day they were all too close when time ran out, when the five of them could no longer hide, “I’m very happy to be her best friend, plus I’ve been thinking that I might look what the cat can drag-in” 

She groaned, whacking him, “You’re ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.” 

“Like you weren’t wondering if you’d be a good snake charmer.”

She squeaked, swatting him again harder as he fell off his chair with laughter.

“I told you that in confidence, not so you can make stupid puns!” 

“Oh come on Chloe, don’t throw a hissssy hit,” 

“I’m a bee, so buzz off!” 

They stared at each other before breaking down into giggles. 

“I hate you,” She whines through the pearls of laughter. 

“No you don’t,” He waggled his eyebrow making her laugh harder. 

Knowing he won he glanced back at her phone only for his smile to twist into a wicked grin. 

“Tone down the Chat in that grin or people will put it together,” She warned, poking his cheek. 

“Marinette and the Wayne boys just said they’re doing a QnA under #Daminette.”  

Chloe blinked a few times before her smile twisted to match his, “There’s a projector in here and we have about five minutes until anyone else gets here.” 

“I’ll grab your laptop and make sure Plagg and Pollen come down from your room,” Adrian said, climbing to his feet. 

“I’ll call Luka and Kagami and ask them to be prepared, and then get Jean to get refreshments and inform Jagged Stone of what’s happening,” She assigned to herself before he nodded and took off. 

Operation Dethrone Lila was officially underway. 

About fucking time

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @kceedraws @northernbluetongue @starry-bi-sky @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @lexysama @vincentvangoose

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maridami #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #Tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #Damianette #chloe bourgeois #adrian agreste #lila rossi #lila gets exposed

[whatissleepeven]

Evil Within Shitpost (Feat. Deanobeanoqueero)

It’s-...

It’s exactly what you think it is-

My bro @deanobeanoqueero is the one who got me into this series, and also finished streaming Evil Within 2 for me today. I had a lot of laughs and scares with you Dean, and I just want to say thank you for the wild ride!

(*Slaps roof of this post* this bad boi can fit so many JOKES)

Dean and Sleep’s Happy, Sunshine, Flowery Day With the Bois (Now Comes With Rainbows!)

“We’ve received a distress signal from Beacon Hospital. We’re en-route; ETA five minut-”

“Dean, bro, we’re almost there you can silently thirst for Joseph once we’re out of the car-”

The beginning cut-scene is supposed to be dramatic, but for the two rookies it’s just Sleep teasing Dean about simping for Joseph and Sebastian

Sebastian’s just trying to guess what might be happening so they can go in with a few ideas, and the absolute tomfoolery happening in the back is ruining the atmosphere

Sebastian sighs. “Can the peanut gallery pipe it down back there?”

Dean winks at him in the rear view mirror, not once missing a beat. “I don’t like peanuts, but there’s one half of that word that I certainly do like~”

Joseph nearly chokes at Dean’s words. Kidman turns to the side to stare out the window, raising a hand to hide the growing smile on her face.

“...Peas.” Dean clarifies, although the smug grin on his face spoke a thousand words. “I meant peas. I like peas. Get your heads out of the gutter, would you?”

They’ve all been working together for nearly a month, Sleep and Dean knowing each other for even longer (about three months). This sort of banter was familiar to the five of them, but-

“WE’RE HEREEE- Oh my good fuck.”

They all hop out of the car, staring up at the hospital. Dean’s scoping out the area, Kidman and Joseph are discussing something in hushed voices, Sebastian’s making his way towards the steps, and Sleep-

-is still by the car.

She laughs nervously. “With how hard this rain’s coming down, this place looks kinda...ominous, don’tcha think?”

Sebastian’s withering look makes her gulp. “It’s too late to turn back now.”

“Sleepus.” Dean says as he reappears, slapping her on the back and getting her to stumble forward. “All five of us are finally on a case together. Let’s just go in, hope nothing steals our toes, and get out so we can play that ghost game we bought.”

Sleep nods. “You’re right...FOR THE GAME!”

“Kidman, stay out here. You’re our backup.” Sebastian commands, removing his gun from its holster. “Joseph, Dean, Sleep, you’re with me. We watch each other’s backs in here.”

All three of them nod their heads, hands hovering over their respective weapons.

Sebastian opens the door. Suddenly, a high pitched noise reverberates throughout the hospital, and soon after darkness quickly overtakes them all...

Inside of STEM

Sebastian comes to with a groan, quickly finding that he’s hanging upside down.

He twists his head to either side of him, seeing the other (really, really dead) bodies tied up in the same manner. “What the-”

“-actual-”

“-fuuuuuck...”

Sebastian nearly yells once he hears the other voices. To his left hangs Dean, the rookie taking in his whereabouts with an equally analytical and disgusted look in his eyes. Further down is Sleep, swearing up a storm under her breath as she tries (and fails) to cut her rope.

���Oh this is not a vibe, bois.”

Sebastian shoots Dean an incredulous look. “Now’s not the time for-”

The butcher walks by them all, going for a- oh that’s a writhing body on a chain, how did they not notice that before, and now-

-Now it’s a non-writhing body on a chain, the sounds of a blade slicing flesh filling the air as something wet splatters against the floor. Heavy footsteps pass by them, and Sebastian tilts his head back to see a...a thing dressed as a butcher cutting up a slab of meat on the table.

Sleep swallows harshly. “Ahaha...yummm, ham...”

Dean chuckles weakly, a hand reaching for his combat knife. Sebastian would’ve smacked his own face if the sound wouldn’t alert the crazy monster in the next room.

Out of everyone he could’ve gotten stuck with...

He cuts himself free once the butcher leaves, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes. He staggers a bit as he stands up, the blood rush temporarily distorting his view, and quickly gets to work on Dean’s ropes.

Dean drops to the ground much like Sebastian did, except unlike the experienced detective he had someone to catch him. 

The rookie smiles up at him. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

“You’re welcome. Can you stand?” Sebastian sets Dean down once he’s sure he’s okay, cutting Sleep’s ropes with no remorse as she plummets to the floor.

She immediately stands back up, unfazed. She jabs a finger at Sebastian, eyes narrowed. “Is this payback for eating your gummy worms the other day?”

Sebastian moves past them with a crouch, swiping the key card from the other room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The two also drop to a crouch, following him towards a red door to the left of the hanging bodies. Heavy footfalls start growing louder, prompting them to get through the doorway as quickly as they could and shut the door behind them.

“I was hungry! You were like “Sleep; don’t eat the packing peanuts!”, and I was digesting myself, what else was I supposed to do?!” She whispers harshly as he opens the door. Sebastian gets the sudden urge to bang his head against a wall.

They all ascend the staircase, unaware of the horrors they would face...

Dean would sometimes miss all of his shotgun shots. It didn’t happen often, but he always took a second to lament his gun afterwards while Sleep patted his back

Sebastian leads the way. If there’s danger, he’d rather run into it first than Dean or Sleep

Explosions are Sleep’s jam. Th-...That’s it, send tweet.

Dean is the master of sneaky-sneaking. He always finds hidden items and ammo, pointing out little gems like a Bioshock figurine. 

“My sneaky little gremlin hands are gonna steal all of your stuff~!”

The ragtag group’s first exposure to Ruvik begins (and ends) with Sleep insulting him. “Look, I get he wants to make like My Chemical Romance and join the Black Parade, but he clearly got the wrong memo with how much white he’s wearing.”

Long walks usually end up with Dean singing a song. A favorite is “Country roaddddd, take me homeeee, to a plaaaaace, I belonggg!”

“-WEST VIRGINIAAAAA”

The two hang onto each other like they’re in a drama film, extending their arms out towards an unseen sunset. It’s very wholesome and sweet and pure.

Sebastian wants to slam his head against a wall.

Sleep whispers the Mission: Impossible theme whenever they’re sneaking up on enemies

Dean starts singing in a panicked tone whenever there’s a high-stress situation. “AHH, I love running from zombies with my brooOOOOoOoOS..!!”

Code phrases

To release tension, Dean and Sleep say “Number 15: Burger King-”

“Don’t you dare,” Sebastian cuts them off with a hiss as they sneak around a zombie wrapped in barbed wire.

- They do it anyways

They get chased

Dean likes the Lady In Red. She’s terrifying, but she’s cool despite wanting to yoink your toes!

Sleep likes the Keeper the best. He has a safe for his head; that’s awesome!

Meeting up with Joseph = immediate simp on Dean’s end

Dean likes to share theories with Joseph, helping him work on opening doors and solving puzzles. Sleep wanders around the room in that time, poking fun at Sebastian.

Dean + Sleep = Lore Goblins, the Goblins of Lore

Dean really helps keep Joseph’s suicidal ass alive and in check; also calls him Jo Jo when he wants to get his attention

Sleep does her best to protect Leslie because he’s babey

Sleep repeatedly says “I will never financially recover from this” when something goes wrong

Dean counters with “I will never emotionally recover from this” once Kidman shoots Joseph

Oh look, Ruvik’s coming to attack them in his manor? Sebastian is tense as he dodges, but Dean and Sleep-

“No no, don’t touch me there; this is, my No No Square. No no-”

“Dean, Sleep, what the fuck are you two doing-”

Once they manage to defeat Ruvik, the trio stumbles out of the hospital and immediately go back to the office to play Mario Kart (Sebastian was forced to go)

They purchase a book called How To Deal With Trauma: For Dummies and sit in a circle and read it

#us in this game would be so hilarious and so fucked #our quotey fingers are actually just quotey quotes and we're driving Seb insane if STEM hasn't already #long post #evil within #sebastian castellanos #joseph oda #juli kidman #the evil within ruvik #ruben victoriano #this shitpost is dedicated to one of the greatest friends I have #dean bro I love you and thank you for this experience #evil within spoilers #I had to sneak in a Juicy reference too #oh wow this post is long

[goodfortune-au]

Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 14: Games

In the coming weeks of March going into April, there had come the next wave, the next vital stage of his attentions and the days that Angel had started to look forward to the most. These were nothing like the voices in her head, the phantom hands stroking her skin, or the experience of finding him on her favorite TV channel. Angel had spent such time these days simply pining after him, waiting for him to worm his way back into her mind, distract her, take her away from all her worries and doubts. To tell the truth, this wasn’t much different from the days of before, all those days spent patrolling the TV for the Derry Children’s Hour and all the time she spent sleeping in the hopes of stumbling across those delicious dreams once more, but now that she had tasted the true sweetness of his presence, there was simply no turning back now. Yes, Angel had truly experienced something she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing before, that is, the love and touch of another living, breathing thing, and now she wanted more. She wanted more, and knowing that the time was ripe to do so, Pennywise was more than delighted to offer it to her. It had begun one warm April afternoon, when the Losers had come to bless Angel with their blithesome, whimsical company. A conversation about the perils and pitfalls of pre-pubescent life at school eventually dissolved into listless boredom, and then Angel had saved the day with a simple deck of cards. They took to it immediately, all sitting in a circle around the coffee table. It was Angel, followed by Bill, followed by Eds and Richie, followed by Stan. The TV is chattering quietly in the background behind them.

“Alright, host goes first, and we’ll move in clockwise.” Angel had announced. She laid down a blue card inscribed with a three.

Bill is thoughtful for a moment, rifling through his cards and finally he sets one down on top of it. Blue seven. Eds places down a yellow seven and Richie grumbles before drawing a few cards out of the deck in the middle. He finally places down a yellow five and Stan counters with the same number in green. And so the cycle continues, the silence progressively growing more and more tense, just waiting for the first shoe to finally drop. It comes back around to Stan again.

“...Sorry, Anj.” Stan says with a wryness in his voice, as though he wasn’t really sorry. He theatrically sets down a card and a death knell practically descends over her head. “Draw four.”

She gasps dramatically. “You little bastard!” She draws four cards out of the deck with a leisurely chuckle, and then places one of them into the middle with a flourish. Reverse card. “Your turn again, Stan the man. This way you can’t betray me a second time.”

“Fine by me, now I get to betray Richie.” Stan says with a devilish smirk. Skip turn.

“Oh come on!” Richie wails. “I had a good one!”

Eddie snickers and places down a green nine. “Sucks to suck, doesn’t it Trashmouth?” Bill places down a green two.

“Can it, wheezy, or I’ll sic the hounds on you next go around, I've got some good cards.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Angel says with a wag of her finger. Another reverse. The entire party flares up with a chorus of controversy and uproarious laughter. Bill snickers and puts down a second green two, then Eddie follows with a wildcard. “The color is red.”

“Yes!” Richie pipes up with a triumphant shriek. To the horror of everyone, he places down a red skip card in the middle. Stan stares at him silently with contempt.

“Nice one, idiot, now we know what color you have the most cards for.” Eddie says, his tone snide and condescending as he shuffles through his own hand.

“Yeah, and now the color is yellow.” Angel announces, placing down another wildcard.

“NO!” Richie howls. The room flares up again with laughter.

They continue in their childish game, taking one round into the next and then a third and a fourth after that. Bill was a silent and unassuming winner, taking home the gold in the first two games and Stan and Angel taking home the third and fourth. As time goes on everyone is growing increasingly bitter at one another, a cloud of competitive loathing settling over all of them as they fight to best the next player. Angel could sense the tension growing in the air, tension surely unavoidable in such a high stakes game as this, and couldn’t stop herself from becoming consumed in the heat of it as well. She’s sitting crosslegged on the couch, leaning forward in her anticipation for the next move, waiting to see what pandemonium surely awaits with the placement of each new card. After a while, though, they all fall into caustic silence. The clock ticks insistently overhead. The chatter on the TV seems to grow louder in the increasing absence of sound. Then the matter-of-fact words of a news reporter gradually intrudes in on their collective thoughts, and before they know it grim conversation is born from the quiet.

“Who knows who’s doing it?” Eds had said. “I hear about this shit constantly, but they never seem to catch anyone.” He sets down a blue four. “Your turn Bill.”

Bill puts down a green four. “Yeah, it’s... It’s ruh-really weird. T-two kids from a grade down went m-m-missing in the last month. The p-police don’t even have leads on them, and it's been weeks.” He says quietly. Angel feels her stomach start to roil with something unpleasant but she ignores it. She puts down a green six and doesn’t say anything.

“It feels like the police don’t even care.” Stan adds, placing down a card of his own. “I mean, they say they’re looking for the missing people, but my dad says that’s just a bunch of bullshit posturing.”

“Really, Rabbi Uris said that?” Angel asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well,” Stan says sheepishly. “Not in those exact words.”

“I don’t know, man, it just feels like things have been different lately.” Eddie says, placing down a reverse card. “Things haven’t really been the same since... You know, ever since...”

Ever since Georgie.

They all fall into discontented silence. Bill is the quietest of them all. The TV continues on behind them, unphased.

“...Hey, uh, can we get a fuckin’ change of scenery in here?” Richie breaks the silence loudly. There’s an uncharacteristic nervous edge to his voice. “I hate the news- it's, uh, it’s killing my buzz, know what I mean?”

They all immediately agree. Angel picks up the remote. “Good idea.” She says uneasily. She starts to flip through the various available channels.

“Your turn again Angel.”

“Oh. Uh...” She interrupts herself to place a card into the middle and then refocuses her attention back on the screen. There’s a baseball game on Channel 4, a hokey soap opera on Channel 10, a couple dull historical documentaries on Channels 14 and 15... Yawn. She continues. Even Channel 27 was nothing but static. She sighs and gets up, disrupting the game briefly to pluck a movie off the shelf instead. She slides her choice into the VCR slot and lets it play, comforted by the familiar sound of product-placement ads she’d heard a thousand times before. Everyone else seems instantly placated by the change of tone in the room too. The Paramount Pictures logo flashes briefly over the screen, and then the sound of a radio host announcing the beautiful weather in the city of Chicago cuts in sharply over the silence.

“Ferris Bueller?” Richie mutters absentmindedly, his eyes flickering up to the TV as he rifles through his cards. “Good choice, Anj.”

“...Ferris? Ferris? Tooooom!”

Two well-to-do parents are fussing over their apparently sickly child. “What, what’s wrong?” His father asks.

“What’s wrong ? For Christ’s sake look at him honey!”

He’s laying in bed, eyes wide as saucers, staring off into space. His father says his name and his spacey stare rolls lazily upward. He seems dazed and fatigued but it’s clearly an act, his voice child-like as he addresses them from under the covers and dramatically plays up his imagined illness. His theatrical performance is laughable and thin but somehow they miraculously buy into it anyway, even insisting he stay in bed as he makes meek attempts to sit up. “I have a test today,” He says, in intentionally weak protest. “I have to take it. I wanna go to a good college so I can have a fruitful life.” His mother adamantly refuses out of concern. “Honey, you’re not going to school like this now.”  Cynical big sister arrives in the room, rightly skeptical of her brother’s supposed ailment but is nonetheless dismissed by her family anyway.

“I’m okay,” Ferris says after she’s gone. “I’ll just sleep. Maybe I’ll have an aspirin around noon.”

After not much deliberation, the parents both agree to let him stay home, telling him they’ll check on him and to call them at work should he need anything. He hams it up even more, buttering them up with weak praise, lauding them for being such loving, caring parents, and they both bid him an affectionate goodbye. They start to leave the room, and his mother tells him she loves him before starting to shut the door behind her. There’s silence. After all is well and the boy is alone in his room, he cautiously sits up in bed. He listens to the door close, and then his eyes dart to the center of the screen. He’s smug.

“They bought it.”

The game continues on as though it had never been disturbed. The unpleasant conversation of before is nothing but a distant memory now, their minds now engrossed in the intense heat of competition once more. A fifth game turns into a sixth, and the better part of an hour passes over their preoccupation. Though the kids seem to have forgotten the grim topic of the disappearances, Angel is less fortunate, and whether she likes it or not, thoughts of it all are starting to stew in her mind again. It was true, Angel had been able to dodge these ruminations lately as a result of her lovesick euphoria, but they had all been buried in a shallow grave rather than six feet under. It was hard to ignore the unease creeping up when she was reminded of everything she’d heard and experienced, and then slowly but surely those thoughts would come rising to the surface again for her lack of delight. She didn’t like thinking of it, of any of it. If she’d had her way, she would happily keep her head buried in the sand with Pennywise and never let her mind linger on any of it ever again. But no such luck unfortunately. The only thing worse than being aware of such strange and ominous dealings was the frustrating knowledge of knowing there was nothing you could do to stop them. Angel had given up a long time ago on any foolish notion of ending whatever force of evil lurked within the town, not that she ever truly had had such a notion in the first place. No, Angel was more than aware that she was fairly inconsequential to this town, even as an apparent fascination for an esoteric guardian angel, and that there was little chance at all she might have any sway over its cosmic fate. But it didn’t stop her from feeling guilty about it all. It was such a futile and helpless feeling she couldn’t control.

Angel pushes it from her mind and tries to become consumed in the game again. In the process her mind starts to wander to other places, and she wonders where Pennywise might be now. He hadn’t been around much in the last few days; though of course, when he wasn’t whispering in her ear or monopolizing her attention on the TV, he was present in other ways. He would leave her gifts and notes just as he had done before, and they were more affectionate now, more personal. He’d leave her things that specifically catered to her interests. Special inking pens he’d conjured up from god only knows where, little pinback buttons and squares of fabric perfect for patch-making, her favorite candies from childhood... She thought it so sweet that he was trying so hard to keep her interest. It was refreshing and new and she, so enamored with him, leaned into the attention wholeheartedly. Pennywise knew it to be important to keep laying on the charm, knew it was crucial to continue in his courting behavior, but he had held off on continuing to be there with her in person, at least for the time being. He wanted her to long for his touch and his presence, wanted her to want him there, holding her, keeping her within the unwavering security of his protection. The time was coming for him to make his return, however, and the reunion would be so sweet, so delightful, the beginning of a new stage in their budding relationship. He had been so patient in the weeks following Valentine’s Day, and now he simply couldn’t wait to be with her again. He would come back to her, and she would welcome him with open arms.

“Oh, you motherfucker.” Richie breathed.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off had finally reached its third act, and now focused on a conversation between the eponymous character’s girlfriend and best friend. They walk through Chicago’s crowded downtown thoroughfares during a lively parade, discussing Ferris and his whereabouts, seeming to have lost him somewhere in the crowd along the way. They’re meandering through hundreds of people trying to find him, the chatter around them loud and boisterous as they make their way down the congested street. The kids paid little attention to the movie, focused instead on the happenings within the fascinating yet frustrating world of Uno. Angel finds herself having forgotten about Pennywise and everything else for the time being, having gotten absorbed in the game herself once more. Bill had a tally of three games won now, Stan with two, Rich with one, Eddie with four somehow, and Angel with two, but the group had now forgotten how many games they’d played, having gotten lost in it for hours. They were playing through the deck for the umpteenth time, and this one had been a real nail biter so far. So many twists and turns, flimsy alliances turned inevitable betrayals, and obscenities shouted at one another that it was truly a sight to behold. At one point Mayor Jello had sauntered into the room, gotten a good, long look at the unfolding commotion, and promptly slinked back out to attend to his own matters.

“You can’t stack draw fours!” Richie had exclaimed incredulously. “That’s against the rules!”

“Nuh uh.” Angel informs him, reclining back on the couch. “House rules. Stacked draw twos and draw fours are totally free game.”

“Yeah, Richie. Read ‘em and weep.” Eds says smugly.

“Fuck that shit!” He’s appalled. “I refuse to honor three stacked draw fours!”

Psst.

“You can’t just refuse, dipshit!”

“Like hell I can’t! I’ve got seventeen cards already, it’s not fair!”

“You’re being a sore loser, Rich.” Stan sighed.

Psst. Hey.

They continue to squabble amongst themselves. Richie is adamant and will not budge, and everyone else is needling him to simply honor it and move on.

“Okay then, if you pussies get to stack draw fours, then I get to do this.” He throws down a blue reverse card.

“Hey, you can’t do that!”

“Sure I can. If you get a pass on breaking the rules then I get a pass too.” Richie says with a shrug. “Draw twelve, asshole.”

“I’m not drawing twelve, Richie!”

Psst.

She finally hears it. Her ears perk up.

Angel.

While they’re arguing, she feels a shiver run up her spine, and she turns to face the source of the sound. The TV. The movie is still playing, Alan Ruck and Mia Sara still journeying through downtown Chicago, the crowd still chattering on in an endless chorus of white noise. A voice starts to address them from a P.A speaker; one familiar, smooth and lilting, but nothing at all like Ferris’s.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re such a wonderful crowd. We’d like to play a little tune for you. It’s one of my personal favorites, and I’d like to dedicate it to a very special girl who doesn’t know just how special she is. Angel, darling, look at me.”

She stares hard, her whole world dissolving into static around her. The camera shot falls on a parade float in the center of the screen, but instead of Ferris dramatically lip syncing the words to Danke Schoen on the stage, Pennywise has bafflingly taken his place on the screen somehow. She’s warm now, she can’t believe her eyes as he walks among the costumed dancers, miming the words and playfully gesturing with his hands toward the center of the screen. He was singing to her.

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Thank you for all the joy and pain

Picture shows, second balcony was the place we'd meet

Second seat, go Dutch treat, you were sweet

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Save those lies, darling don't explain

I recall Central Park in fall

How you tore your dress, what a mess, I confess, that’s not all

He turns to face her completely now, and the movie continues on without him uninterrupted. The children don’t seem to notice his voice, or his presence on the TV. They simply proceed in their heated contention. It's just him and her.

“Hello, sweetness. It's so nice to see your lovely face again.”

Warm phantom hands cup her hips now and she has to resist the urge to gasp. He’s firm but affectionate.

“Uh uh, precious girl. Keep it quiet, would you? Wouldn’t want them to catch on to us, hmm?”

She gulps with a nod and holds her breath as those hands start to wander up, over her clothes, toward her cotton-clad breasts.

“Yes... I’m sure you’re not ready to have that conversation, are you? Wouldn’t even know how to explain it... Oh, look at you, your face is already all red. Cute little Angel. Cute cute cute!”

His hands ghost delicately over her breasts and go to her collarbone, stroking sensually there with one feather-light finger until she’s squirming. He cups her cheek now.

“Oh, darling... How good your skin feels underneath my fingers… Did you like my song? Did you find it as lovely as I find you? Oh, hold on- I think I have another one coming up.”

You had better watch me.

Richie smacks Eddie’s cards out of his hand and the argument flares up again. Angel doesn’t even process it. She’s off in her own world now, and his touch is so titillating that she feels that tingle start to work its way from her belly all the way between her legs again, even as Twist and Shout comes on over the loudspeaker. Pennywise is lip-syncing the words to the upbeat number now, shimmying and dancing on the parade float as he pretends to sing into the microphone. All the while those hands are continuing to grope at her body, lewdly venturing over her curves while a marching band spiritedly plays along to the tune. They follow the beats of the song with brassy enthusiasm.

Well, shake it up, baby, now

Twist and shout

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now

Come on and work it on out

Well, work it on out

You know you look so good

You know you got me goin' now

Just like I know you would

Pennywise is bolstered by the excitement of the crowd and the sheer look on Angel’s face, the way she can’t keep her eyes off him and his on-screen antics. A small flash mob starts to form in a plaza and they mime the words too as they dance down a small flight of concrete steps. The entirety of the parade seems to have congregated around the float in a circle now; the parade-goers are all caught in their own rhythm, moving in different fashions but all in tandem at the same time as they sing along. And all the while Angel is staring, her heart pulsing restlessly inside of her, ignorant of the kids’ growing dissent amongst one another.

Well, shake it up, baby, now

Twist and shout

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now

Come on and work it on out

You know you twist, little girl

You know you twist so fine

Come on and twist a little closer now

And let me know that you're mine

That feeling inside of her belly is only growing more and more as she watches him. The way he struts and sashays across the stage of the float, the way he performs so electrically that it riles up the whole crowd; she can hear the bells on his suit jingling with every one of his movements, the sound ringing in her ears as she fights to maintain some semblance of normalcy and composure. And all the while his eyes keep flickering back into hers, reminding her just who he was singing to, just who he was doing this all for.

Who she belonged to.

“Angel, tell Richie he’s being fucking ridiculous!” Eddie demands, and suddenly she snaps back into focus.

“You’re the one who’s being ridiculous! Now you’re telling me you can use a fucking skip card on yourself?”

“Yeah, I figured if we’re all breaking rules, why not?”

“That just passes the draw twelve onto Bill! He doesn’t deserve that!”

“Oh, so I do deserve it?”

“Guys, for the love of god, shut up!” Angel practically roars, her assessment of the situation all suddenly caught up again.

They all fall quiet. She sighs a labored sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she glances at the TV screen out of the corner of her eye, she notices the movie is back to normal. No Pennywise miming the words to Twist and Shout, no saucy side glances or teasing little gestures, just Ferris amid the cheering parade crowd. She can’t feel his hands anymore either.

“You know guys,” She says with another heaving sigh. “It's getting late- I think you should probably be heading home after this game.”

“Okay but-”

“Richie, just take the damn loss and draw twelve, I’m not gonna watch you two bicker and argue for another three hours.”

He sulks. “Fiiiiiine.” He draws his cards, angry cloud of chagrin palpable in a three foot radius around him.

The game continues. As they slowly make their way through the rest of the deck, Angel finds her thoughts wandering back to Pennywise; wondering where he had gone, if he might come back, finding that she missed him and his touch, not that it was at all surprising. The children have come to a stiff truce and are now quietly placing their cards into the center pile, leaving her to continue stewing over his whereabouts. To tell the truth, the sight of him was such a pleasant surprise that she’d gotten a little… Excited. She hadn’t seen him in days, had only kept correspondence with him through the gifts. He hadn’t even been talking to her all that much; the last time she’d heard his voice was on Tuesday as she had been drifting off to sleep, and though she hadn’t dreamt of him, she could still feel his presence keeping her warm throughout the night. But after that, nothing. If not for the gifts, she would have thought that he was abandoning her again, would have sent that familiar panicky dread roiling up in her gut at the idea of being left behind, but thankfully there was no such feeling of alienation. There was only this delicious feeling of want and desire, bubbling up inside of her as she watched him dance and perform; just for her, only for her, making her feel special. It was a feeling that only seemed to become more apparent as the days went on, this delightful little feeling that made her start to lose her grip on reality. She starts to get lost in that wonderful madness, vacantly placing cards into the pile with every turn, silently contemplating the scenario of his return and finding that a blush was starting to stain her cheeks again at the thought of him. His tall form, his striking eyes, those massive hands; towering over her, looking into her, pinning her against the wall-

“Dirty, dirty, naughty little girl.” His voice whispers directly in her ear. “You’ve got company over, you should control yourself.”

She almost gasps but she restrains herself. She can hear the smile in his voice, can almost see him wagging a finger at her.

“...Need to wait, little thing, need to be patient.” The phantom hands are back at her waist, slowly trailing down to rest at her hips again. Soft and gentle, comforting and sweet. It drives her mad.

“Reverse card. Angel, it’s your turn.”

Suddenly she’s not paying attention again. She’s whining silently, she’s screaming at him in her mind and that only seems to please him more. His voice evokes a shit-eating grin now.

“Wouldn’t… Want to rush things, would we? No, no… We should take our time, we should savor it all…”

Those hands are wandering lower, lower, ever so slightly…

“Angel?”

Her heart is thundering against her chest. She swallows hard, staring off into the space at her feet as she sits, rooted to the spot. He chuckles in her ear as he watches her squirm, clearly delighted at her embarrassment. “Orrrrrr…” He whispers. Her heart stops.

“Angel, are you okay?”

“Maybe... Just maybe... We should throw all that caution to the wind, be bold, adventurous. Maybe I should just wait until they leave. Maybe I should wait until you’re all alone, and then I’ll come... I’ll back you up against the wall, corner you with no escape like a pretty little mouse. Tell me, would you like that?” His hand trails inward, his voice raspy and sonorous in her ear, and her breath hitches in her throat when it brushes up against the tender spot between her legs.

“How about it, pretty girl?”

How about it?

“P-Pennywise…” She breathes.

"Dude, she’s zoned out.”

“Angel!”

She snaps out of it.

“What? What?” She’s pressing her hands to her hot cheeks.

“You spaced out.”

“Are you okay?”

“...What’s P-P-Pennywise?”

She shakes her head quickly. “Sorry, I…” She finally processes the last question and feels her cheeks getting hotter again underneath her fingers. “Nothing, no one.” She clears her throat and thumbs through her hand, placing a red six into the center pile. But his voice is still there, calling to her, teasing her, needling her, just trying to get her to break.

“...Hey Angel,” he breathes huskily. “Wanna hear a poem I wrote for you? It goes like this- Roses are red, violets are fine, you be the six, and I’ll be the--”

Stop. Stop. She tries her best to look normal now but she’s starting to sweat profusely. They continue in the game; there’s a palpable uneasiness settling over all of them but each and every one of them just tries to ignore it. Red nine, red four, blue four, blue skip; blue seven, green seven, wildcard yellow, draw four. Angel is trying her best to ignore him, ignore his little games and rhyming; ignore the pleasure building inside despite her greatest attempts to fight it off, ignore her embarrassment and the way she could feel them all staring at her. The day was long now and she wanted them to go so it could finally be over. She places down another card.

“Oh ho ho, I can see how flustered you are, darling! Poor girl, poor little pet… Be careful now, they’re starting to worry…”

She’s so frustrated that she can hardly breathe. Her face feels like a furnace. She can’t even look them in the face now as she continues laying cards down into the middle of the pile; she can only keep her eyes rooted shamefully at her feet as she listens to the clock tick judgmentally overhead. The minutes crawl by at a snail’s pace, but thankfully the game is nearing its end. Pennywise continues his teasing though, content to torture Angel with his words and devilish sing-song as she fights to maintain her thinly-veiled facade. Stan appears to be pulling ahead, he’s about to call Uno but then-

“Pennywise and Angel sittin’ in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N--”

“OKAY!” She cries out suddenly. They all jump about ten feet off the ground. She immediately processes her outburst, and now she chokes, she struggles to explain herself. “It’s uh…. It’s getting late guys. I think,” She swallows. “Think you should all be getting home.”

“Jesus Christ, are you okay? Your face is on fuckin’ fire dude.”

“I’m fine!” She insists. “I’m just… Not feeling good. But I’ll be okay, I just need to sleep.”

“Angel-”

“Talk soon?”

She practically pushes them all out the door, and they leave behind a mess of Uno cards amid their protest. She reiterates that she’s fine and then they all hesitantly bid her goodbye from her stoop, further unnerved when she doesn’t even reply. She shuts the door, she takes a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. All of his teasing had gotten to her more than she cared to admit; she couldn't help it, no one had ever shown her such attention before, especially not... That kind of attention, not unless they were trying to be insulting. She found it facetious, vulgar in a way that was amusing and fun, though she'd be lying if she said the time and place could not have been any more inappropriate. The worries of what the kids must think is slowly seeping into her brain and she feels her face getting red all over again. What would they think if they... If they knew? It's not as though it were anything bad, she just... Wouldn't know how to explain any of it. How he had romanced her with all of his gifts, the way they'd met... The things he was saying. Oh god. They were privy to a lot of dirty jokes, sure, (Lord knows Richie was incapable of working anything but blue) but she simply couldn't divulge such intimate details of her own romantic courtship like that, they had no business in it. She's sure they wouldn't understand anyway, that they might misconstrue his intentions and try to convince her that he was bad news or something. Children though they were, they were much more mature than most of the adults in this town, and they were not immune to being overprotective of her. She tries not to let her concerns get to her so much, not right now. Now, all she could do was simply splash cold water on her face, put all the Uno cards back where they came from, and leave this mortifying ordeal behind her. She takes another deep breath and sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing her face tiredly. She counts to five and when she turns around she has to bite back a breathless shriek.

#pennywise #daddywise #chapter fourteen #games #it 2017 #it chapter one #pennywise x oc #pennywise x angel #good fortune

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 127 Thoughts

“Let us speak for 46 pages about how we still don’t actually have any real plan, we’re just all very against genocide (except Magath and Yelena) and very upset and feel like we should be doing something.”

The characters are sort of doing my job for me this month.

Maybe this whole post should just be illicit screencaps from Crunchyroll with me providing links and saying, ‘and here’s the panel that makes the point I whined about in this post here.’

That would probably provide more entertainment than whatever I’m about to come up with.

-sees the amount of swearing in the first section-

Hm.

First off, fuck Magath.

Like no, I’m sorry. This is not about what happened 2000 years ago. You know what it’s about? It’s about Marley sending in child soldiers to assault and rob a land that had caused literally no problems for 100 years. It’s about Marley doing this despite being aware of its own history, being that their personal hero collaborated with the First King of Paradis to make Marley’s independence possible.

You want to talk about history, Magath?

Jean isn’t the one who sounds like a child.

Jean is reacting to actual pain that he has experienced in his lifetime thanks to Magath’s very intentional military strategies.

Magath is blaming Jean and everyone else on the island for being born.

That is not equivalent.

That is not remotely equivalent, and while Eren is being a fucking bastard about it, Jean’s right. Eren has the power, means, and will to do all of this because of what Magath and Marley did to Paradis.

Magath doesn’t recognize Eldians as people.

The Eldian Empire was bad.

No one except Floch is disputing that. That is how you know that it is bad.

Marley, as well as the rest of the world, has been free from the Eldian Empire for over a hundred years, and in that time, all they have done is take every horrible thing about the Eldian Empire and exploit it for their own gains.

Magath doesn’t get to be angry that he lives off the backs of abused, brainwashed children that he treats like crap.

Years ago, the Eldian Empire was the worst terror in the world.

A year ago, it was Marley.

Now, it happens to be Eren.

And you know, I’ve been actively against pretty much everything Eren’s done. His plan, if he has one, has mostly managed to make everyone angry and get a lot of people killed who weren’t even involved in the beginning. He gets his head blown off close enough to his brother that he doesn’t die. That’s how the beginning stages of him committing genocide goes. He betrays his friends, makes his besties from childhood feel like crap, and honestly has just been a dick to pretty much everyone.

But at least Eren’s indiscriminate murder has the decency to actually be indiscriminate.

Marley takes children it despises and turns them into their willing slaves for the promise of a better life they have no intent of dispensing. They take these children, and full of hatred for the very ability, demand that they shorten their lifespan and murder people to prove that they’re a “good Eldian” who deserves to live.

Marley is why people can stomach rooting for Eren.

Because Marley is such an abomination that it almost feels worth it to destroy the world if it means Marley’s gone too.

Hell, I’m with Hange. There’s not an avenue where I accept genocide as a way to deal with any of this.

But if someone wanted to burn Magath alive, and we spent a dozen pages gloriously detailing his flesh curling off his bones, it would make me happy.

That’s a more dignified death than he’s given any of the children he’s forced into Marley’s wars.

He does not have the fucking moral high ground.

He's the one Jean should have punched. There is not a single person around that campfire that he has not damaged deeply, and noticing that Gabi is a little girl and he cares when she is in pain does not magically remove that.

Fuck Marley. Fuck Magath.

Grow the fuck up and stop viewing genocide as an acceptable response, you fucking halfwit child. You are the individual who saw four children off on their solitary mission to murder thousands of people. Two of them are dead. Two of them are deeply traumatized, with one of them wishing he had died.

But oh yes, Magath. You’re the victim, here.

Because you baited one angry idiot with the power of a god into destroying part of a city you didn’t give a damn about.

Truly, your justice is a thing to aspire to.

Perhaps Eren taking notes is the real reason we’re here.

Motherfucking fuck I hate Marley. I hate that Eren’s put any of these characters in the position where they have to put up with this shit for the sake of civility. I don’t have a problem with the Warriors. I don’t have a problem with the Survey Corps. I don’t have a problem with the kidlets. Hi Onyankopon, sorry about your life. Yelena has many problems, but she’s also attractive, so I don’t mind as much.

Magath, though.

Pieck, just eat him. Everyone’s too depressed to really throw down over it at this point, and the two small ones are so deeply traumatized that one more body really isn’t going to make much of a dent.

Jean’s clearly the star of this chapter, and a good deal of that comes from the potent hopelessness hovering over him like a rain cloud.

He can point to how bad everyone is at talking things out like it’s the key to the entire mystery, but the long list of problems Jean offers at the beginning of the chapter are still present. Unless they have a way to talk to every person in the world out of their (at this point, rather justified) fear and anger, Paradis and Eldians around the world are very much screwed.

Paradis has forever been running out of time against the hatred the rest of the world has for them.

They do have to fight against what Eren’s doing, and talking instead of blowing each other’s heads off is a good start, but it’s a good start thousands of years after the worst possible one.

And the last time they tried to talk to Eren, Armin punched him, and that was the most productive thing to come out of it.

Jean being the everyman who recognizes the heart of an average person because he is one has been a great tool. It’s still great, here. He wants to close his ears to all of this. He wants, desperately, to run away, because there is no good solution that doesn’t end in death.

When he joins the Survey Corps, they at least have Eren as a brand of hope. They can believe that years of the same tactics and bodies piling up won’t end the same way.

Joining this squad is all about stopping Eren, and despite having figured out their next course of action, no one has yet to provide a real idea.

Genocide is wrong, so you stand up and try to stop it.

That’s the only plan they have.

The Scouts from Paradis don’t even have the promise of saving the people they love if they stop Eren. Annie, Pieck, Gabi, Reiner, Falco... they have a home. The world might forget to hate them. They might get to go home and have a life after this.

The people sitting on the other side of the fire are fucking screwed. They’re fighting entirely for their principles.

...Also Yelena is here.

I do like Yelena.

She’s not the worst, because this manga has too many horrible people in it, but she’s delightfully terrible. I especially like how the fact that she’s actually from Marley hardly gives her any pause.

I do so like Yelena.

It’s a beautiful sentiment.

After all, everyone’s drunk on something.

If you can just save the world, what does the rest matter? What do the crimes that kept you awake at night mean, when you’ve accomplished something so miraculous? All the good deeds cleanse the rottenness, and maybe then the world rights itself and you can breathe again.

...Hey wait, where’s Reiner’s reaction shot to finding out Gabi killed Sasha?

...Did he even know Sasha was dead?

But I guess we’re doing Marco angst.

Wow. Marco angst in 2020.

I think my favorite thing about this chapter (outside of the fact that Mikasa still hates Annie and it makes me giggly because wow Mikasa) is that Annie does absolutely nothing while Jean’s beating the crap out of Reiner.

My less favorite thing is I’ve stopped enjoying Reiner getting the crap beaten out of him. It’s been done, and... really the kid just needs to have not been born into this particular life. Watching Jean beat him bloody is. not cathartic. It’s really just awful.

Annie dodging with her food is glorious, though.

Because while Jean beating up Reiner over Marco is sad and kind of miserable, Annie watching someone beat up Reiner after the years she spent putting up with Reiner and Bertolt brings it back to almost funny.

Until you look at Reiner’s face and go back to feeling bad.

-turns page back to Annie getting out of the way-

Much better.

Truly, I love Annie.

Her forgiveness status is interesting, though. I think besides Marco, she enjoyed more of the kills she’s responsible for than anyone feels a need to dig up.

She’s also been more alone than most of the others in the wagons, and essentially spent four years imprisoned for her crimes.

I’m not surprised she asked, because she’s Annie, but I’m a bit surprised we don’t have an answer yet. Probably too close to the end of the chapter to open up that can of worms.

If it makes everyone feel better, I think we know for a fact that Mikasa will never forgive Annie for anything, even if it only displays itself as petty brandishing of weapons every time they make eye contact.

It’s not even a ship thing.

I just love that Annie is the one person Mikasa can’t stand. They’ve been in one chapter together and Mikasa’s already pulling out swords. These two shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near each other. It’s perfection.

Then we get to plot complications that really don’t register as complications because like. Yeah, you guys need something to do while you figure out what the hell you’re doing.

Because you don’t actually have a real plan, just so we’re clear.

Killing Eren would result in all those Wall Titans operating under their own power.

That is not fundamentally less destructive.

Killing Eren has a nice ring to it, but much like talking to Eren, it does not solve any of the other problems looming ahead.

So you enjoy your little subplot with Floch!

It’s one of the last times your combined competence will have any meaning.

-looks over at Kiyomi-

Honest question, but why are you alive if Floch dislikes you enough to hold you hostage? If Eren’s gonna kill everyone, shouldn’t Floch be following suit and just do his Floch thing of murdering every slight inconvenience?

We’re in the boring stages of the finale right now.

No clear plan for either side to contend with. No real progress in any direction because the tiny squabbles are just a delaying tactic for the massive squabble that no one has an answer to. None of any of this chapter really matters except for clearing the air.

Which is not a useless investment, it’s just not very exciting.

At this point, no excitement is allowed, because there’s that One Huge Thing, and the entire story hinges on it. Maybe someone will die on the way to dealing with it, but that’s all the drama we’re going to get until we find out enough about the plot to have a future worth rooting for.

Right now, there is no good outcome for the people we’ve watched fight for 127 chapters.

Pulling a story along with that weight is hard, and I can feel my brain turning itself off until we’re back to a point where the story is permitted to address the stegosaurus in the room.

One more month.

Again.

Until something happens and we all regret everything.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 127 #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post #fuck marley