#Code Red: YOU in Impending Danger

[mishima-in-places-he-shouldnt-be]

Mishima should not be 2 kilometers tall and towering over the landscape!

Kazumi Mishima shouldn't be 2 kilometers tall!

[bixels]

You know what, enough time has passed and I've given media reviews/reccs in the past, so I'm gonna recommend Pixar's Win or Lose as seriously worth a watch.

I came into the show with zero expectations a few months ago and was pleasantly blown away by the writing, art direction, and character dramas.

Win or Lose is an original drama mini-series created by Pixar that follows a co-ed middle school softball team and the week leading up to a big championship game. Each episode picks one character, either a kid or an adult, and focuses on their perspective/storyline during that week. So in the first episode, we notice a lot of weird mysteries or threads in the background (Why is this character crying uncontrollably? Why are these two fighting?). As the show progresses, we get to see each character's sides of the story and how they interconnect with and affect each other. It's very, very well written and well crafted.

Each episode also tackles a pretty mature and at times distressing theme about growing up and parenting, similar to Inside Out. Here's a one sentence synopsis of each episode's general conflict and theme to give you an idea. Spoilers ahead:

Laurie, who's terrible at softball, desperately wants to impress her father, the team coach, but is dragged down by anxiety, visualized by a growing blob that whispers intrusive thoughts.

A geeky, middle-aged middle school teacher tries to get over a break-up with online dating.

Rochelle, who's the eldest "forced-to-grow-up-too-fast" daughter of a struggling, social media-obsessed single mother, must raise money on her own to pay for her team fee, falling into dangerous situations with older teens.

Following the perspective of the single mother during the events of episode three, we see her side of the story and the complicated ways she works to fend off judgmental parents and support her daughter.

An imaginative but lonely little brother of a softball player becomes friends with a group of teenage outcasts, for better and for worse.

A boy and a girl on the softball team begin dating, but undergo relationship troubles when the boy's insecurities about coolness, honesty, and masculinity cause him to lash out.

Kai, a Black, trans-coded girl on the team, must balance her self-confidence and love for softball while appeasing her sports-loving father, who pressures her to always be her best.

The culmination and climaxes of each episode's arcs and conflicts collide in the big championship game, with a main focus on the team coach/father from the first episode, who's ready to burst from the stress and tension of an impending divorce, his anxious daughter, the game, and mid-life feelings of worthlessness.

Each episode also features a creative way of externalizing and visualizing emotions, concepts, or mindsets like anxiety, e-dating, and pride. Rochelle transforms into a tall business woman with shoulder pads when she goes into money-making-mode. Gravity flips and disappears when she feels like she's losing control of her life. Some episodes even feature completely different animation styles. As a result, each storyline is presented through an unreliable and exaggerated perspective that prioritizes the protagonist and skews reality, often shown through the eyes of a child.

These screenshots really don't do the animation justice, you need to see it in motion to get the appeal. The dialogue is snappy and fun too, and the characters are immediately charismatic and likable. Here's a clip from the first episode.

The two biggest controversies this show had were 1. its art style and 2. the censorship.

The art style was ridiculed and criticized online for looking "grub-hub commercial-ish," which has been said about previous Pixar movies as well (Luca and Turning Red). The characters are extremely cartoony, with sometimes weirdly exaggerated proportions. And admittedly, some of the designs are not it (the noseless barista...). But I think a lot of people and artists will agree that even if the art direction looks strange to you, it grows on you quickly. Pixar knows how to animate and they know how to work with their own models. Plus, given the limitations and labor of a 7-episode show, it makes sense that things had to be simplified. With the gorgeous lighting, textures, and colors, the show's style really reminded me of stop-motion or Nintendo games. It's just fun.

Secondly is the report that Disney made Pixar censor and re-write Kai's episode, which was originally supposed to be an explicit exploration of her trans identity as a young girl and an athlete. The animatic of the original version of the episode was leaked online. The news and decision is extremely disappointing, worsens the final show, and really reveals how careless and conservative Disney is about representation. But if you watch the actual episode, you'll notice all the ways the crew tried to circumvent Disney and maintain Kai's trans identity through coding and nods to gender dysphoria/guilt/expression/affirmation/euphoria. (Her storyline made me cry too.)

I don't want to come across like I'm defending the censorship. An episode dedicated to a POC father-daughter relationship as they navigate Kai coming out as trans while playing sports on Disney+ would have been so powerful and important for family audiences. And they try to supplant the trans storyline with a clumsy softball vs. baseball edit. But I've seen talk about how this storyline was completely erased or how this show is straight up transphobic, and that's just not true. The crew did their best with a truly shitty situation.

If you like shows like Craig of the Creek or Bluey or Steven Universe, you'll probably like this one too.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Favorite Guest (2) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Part 1

Trey considered himself a peaceful man. Exalted in the company he worked at, a reliable watchman, and a highly trusted man in his personal life. This is probably why he was the only one who noticed the dissolving of his friend’s position and the praise for his miraculous results with one of the hardest hybrids they had in captivity. 

With cameras and sensors all over the zoo, it was up to him to be the first to see everything. To warn the upper management and the scientists who were all too engrossed in their studies to be aware of the impending danger from their subjects of interest. It wasn’t his job to map out the tremors from ‘upper management’  but after being instructed to stop recording during certain officials visits, he accepted it as his duty. 

Ring

Ring

“Yo Yo it’s Cater D, go ahead and leave me a message and follow me on my socials after the beep!” 

Beep

Hearing the message from his friend when he wasn’t stuttering and sobbing uncontrollably didn’t help settle Trey’s suspicions. On paper, they never knew each other but in truth, they’d met in school and kept in contact even as they got into the same line of work. Confidentiality was a line they crossed long ago sharing the events of their work. Trey didn’t feel bad, he figured it was human to share secrets especially, against the monstrous image of the company they had, only interested in the height of the discovery of new life. 

It was also why Trey debated with himself while he watched the loudest sensor go off. The blaring red alarm was loud but due to secrecy the soundproofing of his office let only Trey know about the impending doom. 

The sensor was a valued company secret, the only technological link to the largest threat they’d entrapped. The green Naga that was hundreds of meters (and that was by guessing) the anomaly that turned themselves in and claimed to have convinced the other subjects to stop fighting on his command–was on the move. In an outdated attempt to track him and the other nagas, a plate was installed near the entrance of the cave they gravitated to. There were other cameras and recorders in there but all were dismantled, smashed, or broken before they could collect any data. 

The plate was based on weight and depending on how much longer it was pressed down depended on who was coming out of the cave. 3 meters was the silver-tailed one. 6 meters was the blue one. But any reading over that was registered as the green one. 

This would have been a time for him to unlock the shelf and flip the switch. Putting the entire base on a code dragon: an appropriate name for the Naga they weren’t even sure was one. Evidence suggested that properly shutting down the facility would be the goal….but Trey was hesitating. 

This same facility of people had thrust a dear friend of his into the fire by making him the scapegoat to secure the Naga’s first demands. Clearing his existence from all walks of life when he exercised his morality. Risking his life to defy whatever demands those ‘higher-ups’ had led out.

Cater was now gone. 

All that remained were the scientists who were responsible. 

Without being scared it was clear that the ‘higher-ups’ were worried about an uprising. There was so much they didn’t know about the subjects they’d kept trapped. Always discovering new abilities with the massacres of many employees. It was bound to happen. And with the green Naga’s only confirmation of peace was that he was looking for something possibly being fulfilled with the poor guest from the zoo. 

So the urge to call an early day off grew more as other sensors from separate exhibits began to ring. 

“Yeah, I think it’s best if I take an early day off.”

____________________________________________________________

Hearing the distant sound of glass breaking from inside the cave was the signal you were waiting for. Letting Rollo pick you up, you watched from deeper than the entrance to watch the tip of Malleus’ tail finally disappear into the darkness.. 

“Wow, he is so long.”

Idia giggled as he finished his his contraption, “And girthy too. Hehehe.”

Rollo was likely sneering at him but you couldn’t tell. The blue-haired Naga didn’t look bothered in the slightest, instead, he was smiling widely as he handled the controller. The part of the plan that Malleus allowed involved all three of your participation—Operation Leftovers!

“Idia are you all set up to go?’

“Yup! Those batteries you had worked so much better than the ones I’ve got. And the little gadget in your bag was really–”

“Idia please just send the thing out. I’m ready to forgo the entire plan if you rant another moment longer.”

The Naga with the handmade drone pouted a little before clicking some buttons. The whirring of the drone charging up before flying off. With a phone he swiped as a monitor for his drone he looked intently at the screen. Moving closer to him you watched the fuzzy image become clear. It showed the jungle of the enclosure traversed through by something large. The trees and grass are lying irregularly, some things snapped as though the Naga had gone through breaking them mid-launch. The drone easily maneuvered through the remains to reveal the glass of the enclosure shattered and surrounding it the scientists downed. 

Looking over your shoulder Idia mumbled to himself,” He really didn’t save any for the rest of us, did he?”

You heard it and while you weren’t fond of the scientists who’d brought you here, they were still human. It made your stomach turn as Rollo perked up with a smile as Idia loosely pointed out a few Malleus had missed. The silver Naga darted off from you two, eager to get his hands bloodied with the humans he’d been loathing for months.

“C’mon (Y/n), he might get too excited and leave us behind.”

Accepting Idia’s invitation you climb his back, rubbing your watering eyes into the vast expanse of his cerulean locks. Taking deep breaths you try to distract yourself with the smooth gliding of his tail and the occasional demented giggling he lets out while watching the drone screen. Mentally patting yourself on the back, you’re glad you declined Malleus’ offer to carry you while he cleared a path. When you warned him about the use of guns or explosives he laughed, informing you that ‘the pellets sent in the past were nothing for someone as familiar with fire’ as he. As much as you’d love to watch him deflect, you assured him you’d be more helpful in the rear. Promising you’d be able to guide the three of you out of the facility without putting any of you in too much danger—much to Rollo’s displeasure. The plan hinges on Malleus’ destructive capabilities and the other captive creatures also take advantage. 

Idia slowed as he cautiously turned the corner to find Rollo throwing a formerly alive scientist into a nearby wall. Still controlling the drone it provided a cleared path to the entrance of the zoo and parking lot, save for the few guests running in fear. 

“It seems like Malleus is already headed to your place.”

You sighed as you pictured the giant Naga scaring your neighbors. Unfortunately, when you tried to convince him of another rendezvous point he dismissed your worries—claiming that he’d love to enjoy himself in the quaint confines of your human nest. You just hoped he hadn’t destroyed your furniture while squeezing into the tight space. Rollo pulled you out of your 

“Now how do we get to your ‘inconspicuous’ route?”

“We have to go to the car park.”

They both looked at each other before looking at you again. 

“The place where we put the metal tools with wheels.”

“Oh!” “Why didn’t you just say that from the beginning.”

Mapping out the way with Idia’s drone you urged the duo to move quickly; ignoring their not-so-silent snickering about ‘how you were the slow one with your tiny single-jointed legs.’ The surreal relief of stepping over scientists’ bodies and opening the staff-only door you had been escorted through just hours before. The sun was setting now and you were grateful that it looked like the general zoo was closed now. It made the laughable scene of shoving two Nagas into your car less conspicuous. At this point the only battle was driving with those two bickering right in your ear. 

“Don’t touch me!”

“I literally can’t right now! Maybe if you scooched a litte-”

“Me!? Scooch!? Are you blind?”

“Why are you being so pissy lately!?”

“ME!? PISSY?! YOU WANT ME TO SHOW YOU—”

After a short eternity of driving; finally, you could open the door to your destination, watching as they unfurled and wiggled away from each other. All that was left was for you to unlock–or rather just open the door seeing as it was already unlocked. What a promising sign.

“So this is my house, feel free to make yourselves at ho—”

The feeling of wind slapping your face and the disappearing silver tail past a corner was another shock. As if sensing your disbelief Idia curled around you unbearably close nuzzling into your neck while humming.

“He’s just worried Malleus took over all your smell.”

“Really? I thought he just wanted to find someplace far from us.”

“...Maybe that too…”

“I see.”

“You got any games?”

It took a while to get inside the actual door considering Idia was refusing to release you from his hold. Inching yourself into your home it was apparent Malleus had made himself at home, draped over your couch, the kitchen, and all hallways was his emerald shimmering tail. Standing firm–almost rocklike as you struggled to climb past with ease.  You were able to shake Idia off you when you introduced him to your television, leaving him with instructions not to break anything you set out to find the Naga all spread throughout the house. 

It was a battle trying to balance yourself on the steps that were being majorly taken by the muscular tail draped on the entirety of the stairs. But you made it, taking a breath before pushing the door to your room–-it was halfway closed on the rest of Malleus’ tail. 

Taking up the entirety of the room was Malleus, leaning low on the side of your bed, imitating what would’ve been a person kneeling. The level he was in served its purpose as it seemed, he was whispering something in Rollo’s ear. The grumpy Naga was perfectly curled, fitting on your bed as he laid face down into your pillow. He was violently clutching the plush cotton but the seconds that you spied Malleus’ whispering it seemed to weaken. 

Malleus turned and smiled, “Happy your home, (Y/n)!” 

Slithering away from Rollo he held you into his chest, lightly digging his nose into your head. No doubt, smelling you for the umpteenth time. You couldn’t tell if he was intentionally blocking your vision or genuinely interested in what he was asking.

“Do you have anything to eat, (Y/n)?”

“I can make something real fast, though I don’t know if it’ll be any good,” you glanced at his tail,” or enough.”

“That is fine, shall we go?”

He was already moving you with him as he headed to the door. You tried to look past him at Rollo but Malleus was intent on leading you out. 

“What about Rollo isn’t he hungry?”

Malleus completely took you off the floor, carrying you down the stairs while nuzzling his head into your own. Figuring he was attempting to calm you, you stopped trying to look tucking your legs up higher as he reached the ground floor.

“He will be fine for now. Do not worry about him.”

__________________________________________________________

The sun had long since set and the kitchen was closed. The only human within the house was fast asleep under the covers, subconsciously fighting the blue-scaled Naga who was dutifully playing with a switch. His tail was curled between his human’s legs in a snug hold casually gaming while his human snored into the night. 

The other two Naga were downstairs, sitting in the dark without the lights on. They didn’t need it. Their gray and green eyes can see each other perfectly clear. Rollo was on what (Y/n) called a couch coiling his tail repeatedly while he kneaded at the pillow he’d been squeezing for over six hours. Now and then dragging his nose along the cover while inhaling the scent of its original owner still lingering in the linen. 

“I am still hungry.”

Malleus kept his distance leaning over the back of the couch and letting his head rest on his arms. His gaze worriedly flickering to his mate’s face and then to the permanent puncture marks into his pale unattended neck.

“Are you listening?”

Rollo was turned around now as if aware that his giant mate was distracted from listening to his woes whining. He was peeved for many reasons. The irritating scent of other inferior humans on both sides of his newest mate’s home. The occasional whiff of dominance his other mate was exuding and the inferiority that came with being near him. But most of all the lack of a filling meal was on his mind; especially when just hours before perfect morsels surrounded him.

“I am.”

The husky voice and the feeling of Malleus’ weight curling around his smaller tail was a constant reminder of his mate’s comforting superiority. This was evident for the same reason he hadn’t gorged himself while leaving the prison, he dreamed of eating his way out of. Just as he hated he loved Malleus knew this was what the problem was.

“You were not able to eat during your escape.”

It wasn’t a question, the plan never included him needing to attack others. Granted there were a few outliers, but it wasn’t enough to satiate him. Even worse there were quite a few opportunities to eat some humans-paralyzed with fear. But he refrained, for the their newest mate was too judgmental and it would be inconvenient if they tried to run now.

“Hardly, it wasn’t enough to keep any one full.”

Malleus purred as he ran his fingers up the spine of his mate, letting his tail lock around Rollo’s as he shivered.

“I am grateful you kept (Y/n)’s happiness in mind.”

Rollo huffed, “Was there ever a doubt I wouldn’t?”

Malleus answered with a kiss to his hips, unraveling himself as he made his way to a window that was already opened. 

“How about we both ‘eat out?’ (Y/n) was certain there would be an influx of their law enforcement attempting to discover what was going on.”

 Rollo smirked, “Sounds delicious. I say we go!”

 Rollo didn’t need to be told twice dashing past Malleus and onto the darkened allies in the direction of the zoon. Before Malleus could follow he looked to stairs with a woeful pout. 

“Don’t make that face, I’ve got (Y/n). We’ll be fine.”

Malleus tilted his head as if to ask, ‘Are you sure?’

Idia rolled his golden eyes, finally looking up from his game to capture the lips of the greedy dragon. After a minute of Idia attempting to accomplish his game while sucking the forked tongue down his throat, he was released with a loving nip to his neck. 

“Have a nice meal you two.”

[oogaboogasphincter]

black jaguar | dave york x f!reader

dave returns home from a job and can’t wait to indulge in you.

word count/warnings: 1.1k+ words // EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MDNI!: reader and dave are married, reader has no physical description other than she has stretch marks, slight dub-con due to consensual somnophilia, primal kink like woah, masturbation (m and f), marking/love bites, mild blood mentions, dave is dark!coded and like slightly possessed in this bc it’s spooky season babyyy hehe 😈

a/n: i’m so excited to be participating in kinktober this year! i’m not following a specified prompt list or anything, but i have four pieces planned that i’ll release throughout the month (and possibly a series that i’ve been working on, but it might need more time to develop tbh) i hope you enjoy! <3

Dave comes into your bedroom and shuts the door behind him impossibly quiet, leaving you undisturbed in your peaceful slumber. The bottoms of his boots stick to the carpet, the blood of his slain enemy cloying with the fibers, and root him to the spot. The smart decision would’ve been to take them off downstairs and not trail evidence throughout the house, but right now, his rationality is plagued by a fog of desire; a ravenous compulsion clawing its way from his stomach and tearing pangs of hunger, thirst up his throat, leftover adrenaline from his job webbing the whites of his eyes with red. From the foot of your bed, he greedily drinks in the image of his perfect wife and plots his feast.

Your cheek is turned on the pillow, the eerie moonbeams that stream in through the window are reborn into holy light as they touch your face. On your stomach, one leg is hiked up, exposing your glistening core. A vibrator lays dormant just out of reach of your hand and there’s a wet spot on the sheets betwixt your thighs.

This is the only time that Dave allowed you to touch yourself, when he was away on a job. You would fret so much over him, wondering and worrying which dark corner of the world he found himself in, what morally questionable people he came into contact with, what dangerous conditions he had thrown himself into this time… all in the name of making sure he could take care of you. There was no other option but to fuck your self stupid in order to fall asleep every night. Of course, it was nothing like his brand of ecstasy, but it had to be enough to tide you over until he returned.

His gloves, ripped from his impatience to get them off, follow his bloodied jacket to the floor. He prowls forward with footsteps that hold the weight of the world but don’t make a sound. He sits next to you on your side of the bed, leaning in so close he can smell your arousal, surrendering his control to your allure like the tides to the moon. He studies your body, assessing exactly where he’d like to lay claim tonight. His lips, chapped from the bitter chill outside, press against your naked lower back in a litany of kisses, prepping your skin for his impending release.

Unable to stave off the craving any longer, he takes his cock out of his slacks and begins dragging his fingers along his length, stroking himself to hardness until the veins that run perpendicular to his girth are rigid with depravity. Resting on his forearm, he drops his nose down to the sheets and nestles the pool of slick you left in your wake, a groan shaking up his back and rumbling through his teeth. He drags his tongue along the wet spot, grunting with a newfound softness at your taste. Your essence is so sweet, so honest; deep down in his heart, he feels unworthy of such salvation, but he keeps gorging on you in the hopes that some of your purity might lodge itself in his heart.

His eyes rove over the slopes of your body, seamlessly riding along your every curve with awe. He reaches his fingers out to touch you for the first time in weeks and it’s like he’s been struck with a lightning bolt. Heart rate picks up, sweat breaks out on his forehead, his hips hump the air in a pathetic jolt. He traces the stretch marks that encircle your hips, dipping into the deeper ones like a ravine and following their length with reverence, swept away by their current.

His touch falls over your ass, depositing him at the precious apex of your thighs. With surgical precision, keeping you suspended in the dream realm, he finds his way into your folds and gathers some of your fresh wetness. It’s like you could sense that he’s there, priming your body for him subconsciously. Bringing it to his mouth and engulfing it, he doesn’t allow himself to drink directly from you because he’s entertained enough sins tonight. Tainting your sweetness with his stroke of malevolence would be irredeemable.

But Dave is far from a saint. His rough fingertips slink to your clit and circle it, eliciting some soft whimpers from your parted lips. His grip on his cock tightens at your sounds, gliding from base to tip at a frenzied speed. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to burst so soon, because the sight of your angelic form only propels him toward his peak. With his other senses heightened, your arousal feels even more luscious against his fingers; your sleepy, pitiful moans worm into his mind and make a deep magenta pound behind his eyelids. The air in his lungs is knocked out of him, a choked-out gasp squeezing out of his chest.

Some primal urge maws its way from inside his bones and unleashes itself in his body, flooding him with a raw mixture of possessiveness and love. Hunched over your back, he lurches forward and takes the flesh of where your neck and shoulder meet between his teeth as he comes hard, growling lowly in your ear. You awaken with a gasp, but not one of distaste; your voice quickly melts into a passionate moan as you recognize the distinct timbre that underlines Dave’s groaning. If it were anyone else but Dave, his sounds would be dramatic, silly even. But you know he’s not putting on any kind of show, that those animalistic sounds reverberate from his chest organically, and it puts a satisfied grin on your face.

The sticky drops of his release land on your lower back, their paths curving with the slope of your body. Once he’s emptied himself completely, Dave puts a hand in between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned beneath him for his viewing pleasure. He stares at your marked skin, from the translucent glimmer of sweat and spend on your back to the bite on your neck that is already blooming purple with blood. He collapses and molds himself to you, pressing dainty kisses to your neck as his instinct to nurture begins stemming back into his psyche. His fingers ghost against your wound almost apologetically. Almost.

He would feel a little more remorseful if it weren’t for the adoring glow in your eyes when you finally meet his gaze. God, he’d been aching to see you. He practically has a portfolio of you in his mind, countless memories that he can replay like film whenever he chooses, but nothing will ever come close to simply being in your presence. For the first time since he left you, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Your mirror it, as his true counterpart.

“Welcome home.”

main masterlist ♡ join my taglist!

💘taglist (if you’re crossed out it means i couldn’t tag you): @pascalpanic @melody13522 @tenderwhat @maievdenoir @pedrostories @uncassettodiricordi @harriedandharassed

[since0202]

Taking Time—Nineteen

That was strange to see you again

There’s no time like the present, or so they say. But often, when you’re present, you realize nothing specific about your situation—the good and the bad look the same. It’s only when you get some distance from them that you realize them for what they are: good, bad, necessary. So really, the saying should be ‘There’s no time like the future, because in the future the truth of it all will set you free.’ But even in the future, I’ll still be stuck painfully in the present.

Maya felt lost. She wandered the hallways of her high school absently on Monday morning and when the bell rang for first period, she was all the way on the other end of the school from her class.

Paul was an actual wolf. This fact had wracked Maya’s nerves for all of Sunday after she nearly sprinted home and locked herself in her room.

From then on, everything felt thrown into doubt: if the wolf warriors were actual wolves, what else about their legends were true? Her world had turned a different hue and in it, Paul was something she only vaguely recognized. The pulse of the imprint was quiet right now, having been quelled by her immense shock and fear at having Paul’s giant wolf form tower over and snap at her in his anger.

But what had struck Maya as exceptionally odd was that although in that moment she felt pure fear and albeit horror at his transformation, she distinctly did not feel like she was in danger. This worried Maya—was she completely naive and the dangers of the world would be out there waiting for her once she left the safety cloak of the reservation? Her mind shot back to that night in the alley. The cold man with red eyes. She knew him for what he was now—a cold one. Her heart pounded in her chest, now fully understanding the danger she had been in. And Jeremy….he had saved her without hesitation.

During her passing period, she looked for him now, but he was nowhere to be seen. Should she be worried by that too?

Maya didn’t have a lot of time or energy to put toward her worry though—finals were upon her and she had a decision to make: which university should she choose? Never in her wildest dreams did Maya think she would have gotten into both of her dream schools and now that the options were before her, she stood frozen, uncertain of what to do.

“Maya!” Keye said to her for the third time at lunch, “Earth to My!” Maya pulled her eyes up and looked bleary-eyed at Keye and Becks. She had been so lost in thought that from second period until lunch, she’d been in a haze, floating from one class to the next.

“Sorry,” she mumbled looking down at her food that she definitely didn’t have an appetite for.

“You okay?” Keye said, stabbing her fork into her mixed green salad. Becks looked on, worried.

“Where’s Jeremy, Becks?” Maya said, distracted from Keye’s original question. Becks opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it. “Becks?” Maya prompted. Becks looked to Keye for a second who only shrugged.

“He’s...out of town,” Becks said diplomatically. Maya looked slowly from Keye to Becks and back again.

“Is that like...code for something?” Maya’s voice was monotone. She had no energy for inflection and simply having this conversation drained what little energy she had left.

“Ah, no.” Becks said cryptically. Maya fitted her with a stare. “He’s literally out of town.”

“Okay,” Maya said slowly, looking back down at her plate. Keye started to chatter about school stuff, either oblivious to Maya’s complete disinterest in the world around her or she was just still mad about the other day.

By the middle of the week, Maya had tried to shake as much of the impending dread as she could to focus. She sat cross-legged on her bed bent over her physics book when her phone buzzed beside her. Her breath caught in her throat. Could it be him? Maya didn’t know what to hope for.

Keye: Are you home?

Maya: Yeah, upstairs. Why?

K: Okay, I’m coming over.

Maya knew it was no use fighting her. About ten minutes later, she heard the distinct footsteps of Keye climbing the stairs as she called after Rish about something. When she opened the door, her hands were ladened down with text books and papers and she set them down as soon as she could.

“Wooh! What the fuck!” Keye always found a way to curse, even if the occasion didn’t call for it. Maya looked at her skeptically and turned back to look at her textbook.

“What are you doing here?” she said, disinterested already.

“I came to study and to ask you why the FUCK YOU DIDN’T TELL ME PAUL PHASED IN FRONT OF YOU AND NOW YOU ACTUALLY KNOW.” Keye yelled.

“Jesus! Close the fucking door!” Maya said in a hurried whisper jumping up and moving around Keye to close it. “And yes, he didn’t fucking do that. I haven’t been able to...to talk to him since.”

“Why?” Keye said confused. “He’s a giant fucking wolf so what?”

“So what?! Keye, he lied to me. I was leading him into telling me and he just...denied it. Or...didn’t come out with it. And then when I told him I didn’t want to be with him anymore, he freaked out and exploded out of his fucking clothes,” Maya held a hand to her forehead recounting the memory.

“You told him you didn’t want to be with him anymore?!” Keye said, “Well that makes sense why he took off then,” she muttered under her breath.

“Took off? What are you talking about?” Maya’s eyes were wide. He was gone? Why hadn’t she felt that? Shouldn’t the imprint make her feel that absence like all the times he went to Seattle? She put a hand over her stomach and wondered if she somehow broke the imprint. Was that even possible?

“Yeah, when Becks said Jeremy was ‘out of town’, that’s what she meant.” Keye said simply. Maya was breathing in quick now, her hand still over her stomach. “My?”

“I...I didn’t know,” she said, to which Keye looked confused. But Maya was worried about the imprint and why she couldn’t feel that familiar tug anymore. And more than anything else in that moment, she wanted to feel it to know that he was still there.

“He’ll come back, My,” Keye said softly.

The night of the bonfire, Maya felt deflated. It had been almost one whole week of nothing from Paul and she still hadn’t felt the imprint pull at her. Like an expectant mother waiting for her baby to kick as a sign of life, Maya would lay awake in bed and try to beckon that familiar feeling forward. But still...nothing. She felt broken.

Since the weather had started to warm up, Rish wanted Maya to wear one of her sundresses for the announcement. In true obliging fashion, Maya donned her dark blue, floor length sundress that was dotted with tiny multi-colored flowers of white, yellow, blue, and green. The dress had two slits on either side that came up to mid-thigh.

She tied her hair half up and braided the half ponytail. Dabbing on some clear lip gloss Maya looked at herself in the mirror. Dark circles pulled down at her eyes and she looked paler. Her whole body felt limp. If she had broken the imprint somehow, this must have been the price of it.

The bonfire gathering was imbibed with an air of celebration. People milled about, cheerfully chatting and hugging one another. When Maya showed up, many of her neighbors and community members came over to congratulate her and pull her into back slapping hugs. She perked up a little bit at the atmosphere and even relaxed a little when she realized that no one from Sam’s pack was at the bonfire. She didn’t know what she’d do if Paul showed up. Run? Scream? Dash into his arms to shake this deadened feeling in her?

Just before the announcements were to begin, Chief Black called Maya over to him. Her heart sank as she walked over, her hands curled into fists at her side as she tried to keep her face serene. But she knew what was coming.

“Chief Black, good to see you,” she said, but her tone was all off. Maya didn’t even recognize the sound of the voice coming from her. Chief Black fitted her with a serious stare and then, his face broke into a calming smile.

“What’s bothering you, Maya?” he said just as calmly. Maya almost felt unnerved but she looked away from him and then back before shrugging nonchalantly.

“It’s big news, I’m just trying to process it,” she replied in the stranger’s voice.

“You’d be wise to give the news a chance to sink in and accept it as part of your past, present, and future. Make it easier on everyone,” he said quietly. Maya got the feeling they weren’t talking about colleges anymore. Her face was set in a hard line.

“Wasn’t it you who told me the imprint defines the relationship?” she crossed her arms now. “That wasn’t entirely true was it?” Who was this person talking back to her chief without a care in the world?

“It was true in the moment that you needed to hear it.” He said firmly, “And what’s more, if you had worked to understand the imprint and the connection you share with him these past five months, you’d know that life apart is no life at all. But I can see you’re already feeling the effects of that,” he nodded to her figure. Maya was upset now, and tears brimmed at her eyes angrily as she tried to push them back down.

“You don’t know anything about my connection to him.”

“The one thing I did tell you that remains true is that there must be a relationship of some kind. Going against that will not bode well for you. I suggest you make the necessary decisions that lead you back in the right direction or we will do it for you.” He replied ominously.

“What is that supposed to mean?” her voice shook. They couldn’t make her do anything, she knew that, but Maya also didn’t want to find out what Chief Black was capable of, even if he was bluffing.

“Tonight is a night for celebration. Let’s be sure to let this energy go before coming into the circle.” He chided before he walked off.

“What the fuck was that about?” Keye and Becks had been watching from the other side of the clearing and walked toward Maya now who was almost shaking with anger.

“He’s trying to scare me,” Maya said. Her shaking voice may have indicated that she was scared, but instead, she was filled with seething anger. And worse yet was that it had nowhere to go.

As they were called toward the bonfire, Becks and Keye flanked her, worried gazes on her back as they sat down in the circle. After the updates, Chief Black turned his attention toward Maya, the firelight flickering across her drawn face.

“And finally, we’d like to end these announcements with congratulations to Maya Sunriviere. Our Ivy league hopeful has got into not only Princeton but Columbia University as well. We are so proud of her and hope she understands that she carries the tribe with her into this new adventure. We are always with you.” He leveled her with a deep stare and Maya’s lips parted suddenly. The entire tribe broke into applause and hoots, Becks rubbed her back and leaned into her.

After the close of the announcements, Maya stood up and dusted herself off when Keye grabbed her hand. Maya looked at her suddenly and said, “What?” in a small, confused voice. Keye nodded in front of her, and across the fire stood Paul Lahote.

The deadened feeling that had settled in her where the imprint once lived roared to glorious life again and she almost gasped at the feeling rocketing through her. Paul’s face was set in stone, his eyes filled with want, anger, and need to be near her. But his fists stayed clenched down at his sides and the tall figure of Sam appeared next to him leaning down and saying something in his ear.

This seemed to shift his gaze around and he moved back from the fire. Maya took an automatic step toward him, revelling in the thrilling, fizzing feeling of the imprint alive in her again. But then, Jeremy was next to her, his hand on her arm and his face looking very serious.

“Paul.” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears now. But he had already disappeared and Maya couldn’t bring herself to go after him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“I define the imprint relationship. Not you!” Maya had yelled at him. Paul was having a hard time seeing straight and the rush of the ocean was growing in his ears. The shaking inside of him was rising up his spine and burning at his hands. His vision was starting to blur and all he wanted to do was let go.

But Maya...Maya was everything. The giant exhale he had been holding in his body for years had finally been released when she came into the picture, but now he was under water and he didn’t think he’d be able to take another full breath again. Not with her gone.

Her face was anchored in anger and Paul knew that she’d figured him out. Jeremy or Becks had told her, he was sure of it. He was going to tell her. He thought he was going to tell her, but every time Paul had opened his mouth to tell the truth, he watched her disappear before his eyes.

But now, as he stumbled into the backyard away from her, Paul knew that he had she was lost to him again. And with that understanding, he phased, letting the rage that bubbled just under the surface out. This rage felt different than the kind he was familiar with growing up. This was something closer to grief and pulled him in a thousand different directions.

Maya looked at him in fear now, her back pressed against the house and all Paul wanted to do was go back in time to just a few hours ago when he had held her petite body in his hands and pulled sounds from her that made him ache for more.

But she was looking at him now like what he always suspected he might be: a monster. Paul did the only thing he could do since he was incapable of moving closer to her—he bolted down the beach and into the forest where he could get well and truly lost.

What the fuck!

Well, not for long.

You told her?! Jared’s voice was echoing in his head now as Paul played on replay the altercation between him and Maya to fuel his feet to run faster, farther, away from this.

I thought that’s what you were going to do anyway? Embry said confused.

Not like that. He seethed. Paul replayed Maya telling him it was over, the break forming a larger crack through himself that he could slip farther into.

Oh fuck. Collin said, despair in his voice. She dumped you?

At least you dodged the bullet of fucking a high schooler. Jared said.

Yeah you’d never live that one down. Embry tried to placate.

Still gave head to a high schooler though. Quil butted in now and the rage that coursed through Paul ebbed a little at the presence of his brothers.

She’ll come back. Leah pulled up next to him now and they ran in unison. But if you need to take off for a while—clear your head—I’ll cover for you.

Paul had a moment of temporary peace and then he pushed himself harder, pointing himself north and hightailing it off the reservation as fast as he could. Behind him, he heard a volley of wolf howls and something inside him broke.

“She’s quiet. Becks says she’s not talking much and doesn’t want to be around anyone. Keeping her head in the books.”

Paul listened as Jeremy filled him in. It had only been a few days, but he couldn’t help calling Jeremy to ask about Maya. Every moment of his day was filled with her face and the final words that left her lips to him. He allowed the pain of it to settle deep in him but it was no match for his desire to return to her, grab her and tell he was sorry.

“Paul?” Jeremy asked as the silence rang clean on his end.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Just...keep me updated.”

“There’s a bonfire this Friday. She’ll be there. The council is announcing and formally congratulating her on getting into Columbia and Princeton. Just...a heads up.”

“Thanks, Jeremy.” Paul said as he quickly ended the call.

Paul sat in silence for a moment staring out the window. He was in his workshop in Seattle. Originally, the plan had been to run as far north as he could, across the border, home free. But the second he got outside the reservation, the pain was back. It was more pronounced this time and Paul worried he’d snap in two if he went much further. So he limped his way into Seattle and settled in his workshop to camp out.

The pain of the separation was worse than it was when he would take his regular trips to Seattle. It radiated through him, causing him to stop suddenly and catch his breath. Sometimes the pain could even bring him to his knees and he’d have to fight the urge to spring back to La Push where his mind and body called him to.

This imprint was no joke.

Now, Paul sat on his work stool, cradling his phone and staring ahead, waiting for the pain to die down in his hands so he could dial someone else.

“Hey. You alright?” Sam asked on the other end.

“This is impossible.” Every time he tried to address the pain, the urge in him would reignite and he’d have to roar against it in anger to even stay in one place.

“She’ll come around. Stay away as long as you need but…”

“I don’t think I can stay away too long. She won’t let me.” He seethed.

“The bond won’t let you.” Sam corrected and Paul scoffed.

“I never wanted this Sam. I never asked for this.” He spit.

“None of us do. But it’s worth it.” Sam conceded. Paul wasn’t so sure.

“Yeah, well...you’ve never had an 18 year old have this much power over your every waking moment. I don’t know if that’s true.”

There was a pause.

“Paul. She’s worth it.” Sam was firm but sincere. Paul looked down now and nodded his head knowing that Sam couldn’t see.

Maya flashed into his mind now, naked and sprawled on the bed in Santa Monica. Paul hadn’t thought his hands could touch enough of her, he felt hungry for her all of the time. And the fire that lit desire in her eyes as he buried his face between her legs pulling his name from her lips was seared into his brain. But she’d turn that fire against him—now that moaning, beautiful, soft Maya hardened in front of him, her back pressed to the side of the house as she burned with what he could only assume was pure hatred.

He closed his eyes tightly trying to wipe the memory from his mind, but she stayed there.

“Can she…?” Paul choked and tried to regain himself. “Can she break the imprint?” He didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer to that. If this was his future, Paul thought he would have to break apart and disappear.

“No. She can’t.” Sam said, sureness and finality in his voice. “Come home when you’re ready.”

After two more excruciating days, Paul sprinted home the day of the bonfire. He was only a little surprised when he phased that Jeremy was already there and joined him quickly when he broke back into the woods to head home.

Have you been here this whole time? Paul said.

Call it: broadening my horizons. Jeremy quipped. Paul bumped into him with his shoulder and they raced each other back to the rez.

When they reached the rez, it was clear Sam had given an order to the others to keep their collective consciousness void of Maya.

Not that it mattered. Paul, ever the glutton for punishment, sprinted straight to Maya’s house and, still in his wolf form, waited in the trees to catch a glimpse of her. He didn’t have to wait long though. About ten minutes later, he saw Maya pacing in front of her bedroom window, book in hand. Seeing her there in the flesh for the first time since she left him sent him spiraling back into the pain and the pull of the imprint ratched him forward.

He saw it now: he’d storm in, climb the steps to Maya’s room as Rish called out to him and throw open her bedroom door. She’d be startled to see him there, but before she would even get a chance to say anything, he’d cross the room, his face lit with determined fire, and take her into his arms, pressing his lips down onto her. She wouldn’t tell him to stop because she’d feel the pain ebb from her body too and he’d press her back onto the bed letting his mouth move around her as he undressed her, took off his pants and pushed his way into her without a second thought. Once inside her, she’d surrender, wave the white flag and beg him forward and there wouldn’t be another word about ‘This won’t work.’

They did work. She just needed to let him in in more ways than one.

But now, buried in the tree line, his teeth bared at the thought of Maya underneath him, he snapped back into himself. She wasn’t the type to surrender, he knew that. Maya would push against his chest, tell him no, set him straight and he’d burn even more for her. He’d welcome that dissent because it reminded him that she was something to wait for, to fight for, to work for and be better for.

The wild fantasy settled as he watched her now. She held a hand to her chest as she walked back and forth slowly, her eyes glued to the textbook. Every now and then a brief moment of pain would flicker across her face and Paul ached to soothe it.

It was then that he decided he would see her at the bonfire that night. If only to provide her a moment of temporary relief at being so close again. And then he’d leave. He would. He could do it.

Maybe.

We’re going to the bonfire? He could hear the smile in Seth’s voice. They didn’t really make a habit out of attending bonfires unless Sam said it was absolutely necessary. Mostly because they had patrols to run and secondly, the council was kind of pushy about imprints.

Sam and Emily had four kids together at this point, but the council always asked them when they were having more. Jared and Kim always got an earful too, but Kim was busy making her way up the ranks as a physician’s assistant at the Forks Hospital and kids weren’t really in their plans for the immediate future.

The council had wasted no time after he had imprinted on Maya to make their expectations about their relationship clear. A week after their initial meeting where they told Maya that she was his imprint, he had been called in. Jared had prepared him for what they might say, seeing as he got the same talking to when he imprinted on Kim when they were 16.

“She’s in high school,” he had told them as he stood before them.

“We understand that, but we just want to be clear that the imprint relationship is sacred and integral to carrying on the bloodline of the wolf warriors,” Elder Mila had said, “It would benefit you now to make your intentions with Maya clear from the onset.”

“Plus we have it on good authority that you haven’t even reached out to her since the initial imprint.” Elder Leo said. Paul made a sound of annoyance and crossed his arms.

“Paul,” Chief Black said. “We just want you to understand what this relationship must be...has to be. For the safety of our tribe. You’ve seen what’s out there, so I don’t need to explain to you what we’re up against should something go wrong. The imprint lays the road for you. You just have to follow it. And you have to make sure Maya follows it too.”

Paul fixed them with a hard stare and after a moment, he said coolly, “Are we done?”

To which Chief Black gave him a nod and he left.

Now, as Paul made his way to the bonfire in wolf form, Seth happily running next to him, he thought about what Chief Black said. The imprint lays the road for you. You just have to follow it.

What a load of shit. He thought.

Man, I hope I never imprint. Seth sighed. Paul turned his head to look at him as they ran through the forest, neither of them needing to look where they were going to navigate it successfully. Paul thought about Maya and he knew he didn’t regret the imprint. She was quite possibly the best thing that ever happened to him. But in the same vein she might also be the worst. They were both fire and he worried that if they gave into one another too easily, they would consume one another. At least that’s what he had thought when he had first imprinted.

Seth watched this review of his relationship play in his head and then gave a throaty laugh.

What? Paul said surprised.

You love her man. And not just because of the imprint. That’s easy to see. Seth said as he pulled ahead of him in speed. Paul watched him go and something in him relaxed in that admission Seth made for him.

He loved her. Now all he had to do was tell her. With a grimace, he pushed hard with his back legs and sped up.

At the tree line, he donned a dark shirt and some jeans. Everyone was gathered around the bonfire now and Paul made his way quietly over, steeling himself to see her again. He realized he was clenching his fists and slowly let them relax.

Paul stood on the outskirts of the group and heard the voice of Chief Black break through:

“And finally, we’d like to end these announcements with congratulations to Maya Sunriviere. Our Ivy league hopeful has got into not only Princeton but Columbia University as well. We are so proud of her and hope she understands that she carries the tribe with her into this new adventure. We are always with you.”

As people filtered out around him, Paul made his way forward to the fire. His eyes connected on Maya’s form almost immediately—they were trained to find her almost anywhere—and the rush of relief he felt move through him was immediate. His fists were clenched again though and to steady himself, he only let his eyes rest on her face.

She’d see him eventually, he knew that, but what she did after was up to her. Despite what Chief Black and the other elders had told him, he wouldn’t force her to do anything. Her happiness was his happiness and it wasn’t fair to push on something that she didn’t want.

Paul believed that just because the imprint was said to occur when he needed it the most, that didn’t necessarily mean the same was true for Maya. And he needed to protect that space for Maya in his life as his imprint as much as possible from the outside influence of the council, her family, her friends, anybody, so that she could make the decision that was best for her.

He loved her. But that didn’t necessarily translate to her loving him back. And when he broke their relationship in it’s infancy, he thought it might kill him. Here he stood though, across from her in the firelight, exactly as they started. And when her eyes finally floated over to meet his, he felt comforted by the familiar feeling wash through him that echoed in his mind: Mine.

Her mouth fell open slightly and he watched the line of her lips with urgency. How he wished to press his lips against those lips again. The weight of the imprint made itself known, but he locked his feet in place. The trembling began through his knees and up to his chest, causing his vision to blur. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold himself in place and either surrender to the wolf or stride over to take Maya into his arms and not take no for an answer this time.

Then, a broad, hand landed on his shoulder and Sam leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Not here. She saw you. You can see the bond is still very much intact. She’s going to come back to you.” Sam gave him a measured look and finished with, “Time to go.”

Paul gave him a small nod and with one final burning look at her, he turned and disappeared into the trees with Sam. The one thing he couldn’t shake from his mind as he ran patrols that night, skirting the parameter of the rez, was that just before he had turned to leave, he saw her take a step toward him. And his heart swelled with what he only recognized as hope.

Two weeks later

“So we have you in Seattle on the 10th through the 13th for meeting and planning with the architect, and then Denver from the 16th to the 19th for meeting and planning with Mr. Shaw, Mr. Crenshoe, and Mrs. Little.” Michael quipped.

“Good. Am I clear for the rest of June?” Paul confirmed over his laptop, pushing the black reading glasses up off his face and onto his head. The sunlight streamed in through his high workshop windows—a rarity for him in Seattle he felt.

“Ah, not quite. Looks like right at the end of the month, I have you in Santa Monica for a refab on that piece for that cute little boho bar on Third Street.” Michael tapped at his iPad, no doubt making notes for follow up requests.

“Fine.” Paul said dismissively. “Send me the dates for that.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked back at his laptop.

“Will do and, OH!” Michael said quickly. Paul looked up at him, “Should I book any of these June flights for Miss Sunriviere as well?” He looked at Paul expectantly.

“Ah, no. She won’t be joining me this time,” Paul said, a little deflated.

“Okay!” Michael made another note on his iPad and then turned on his heel toward the door, “I’ll be back with lunch in an hour!” he called over his shoulder.

As the heavy metal door swung shut behind him, Paul let out a great sigh and leaned back in his chair. After the bonfire, Paul had asked Sam if he could take some time off from rounds. When Sam had agreed, he took off for Seattle and stayed in the apartment above his workshop to bury himself in his work. Michael was delighted to have him on hand all the time, making confirming and scheduling new consults incredibly easy for him. But Paul was itching to get back to the reservation.

Maya’s graduation was coming up and Jeremy had popped by a few times a week with updates, mostly to let Paul know how she was doing, if she was stressed with finals, if she was eating/sleeping/drinking. Jeremy was happy to play the informant. The last time he had sent Jeremy on his way he reminded him:

“The original request still stands by the way.”

“Huh?” Jeremy said confused as he held open the door.

“Keep an eye on her. No one goes near her, touches her, nothing. Understood?” Paul said firmly.

“Got it.” Jeremy nodded. “Uh, but I don’t think I would have to do that. She’s already doing that herself. Last week she shoved Josh Desota so hard, I thought he was gonna puke.” He laughed at that and as Paul said, “What!?” to stop him, Jeremy darted off down the busy street and out of sight.

The hope in Paul glowed warmly through his chest and carried him home back to the rez with a rare reprieve from the pain.

The only thing Paul could think about when he turned into his driveway, was letting his head hit the pillow and sleeping until noon the next day. As he made his way inside, dropping his bag by the front door, and dropping his keys on the shelf he had made next to the coat rack, he yawned.

It was dark and as he flipped on the lights, he inhaled a deep breath, happy to finally be home again. His face screwed up in confusion and pain at the smell that invaded his senses though and he halted to glance around cautiously.

As he rounded the corner to the living room, he came to an abrupt stop, his fists clenched, and his heart racing.

“Maya.” He breathed.

Next > >

[artxyra]

The Secret Life of MDC | Part 6

Part 6: Just let them fall

Part 01 | 02 | 03 | 04��| 05

Note: If you had read the original version on my website, I totally did not rewrite this entire part just to avoid a fight scene. 

The mission was simple: save the two idiot exchange students that don’t have any common sense. It was a frustrating task to even track them down. Base on the footage from security cameras and likely villains who are crazy enough to start drama, it is very likely that the dumb and dumber are safe but being hold over a pot of acid, fire, or water will killer animals. Who knows?

“You know, they just have given us an excuse to bring the Gotham miraculous crew back into action,” Andrena says as her bee-like wings flutter to life. Her eyes narrowly focus on anything strange.

To Gotham, Andrena is equivalent to Paris’ Melitta Bee (Chloe’s new alias once she was inducted back onto the team). Every member of Paris’ MT has a Gotham counterpart. For Ladybug it was Ladybird, for Chat Noir it was Lykoi. Then for the two missing members Viperion and Ryoku, there was Python and Naga. The only difference two their styles are more realistic and less magical.

“There is no time for play, Bee.” Ladybird walks out from the shadows, the current boy wonder walking behind her. She crosses her arms and lets out a heavy sigh. “As long as we are active in the fight any damage the two may endure could be undone. You know how I hate to bring out the team.” Everyone could see the tiredness behind the red and black mask that lies in her bluebell eyes.

“Tt. They deserve whatever comes their way.” Robin scoffs. From the corner of his eyes, he could see his siblings joining them on the roof. “What did you find?” This question wasn’t pointed to anyone directly, but they all knew there was one person with the answers.

“Red Robin—” Lykoi lowkey hums ‘Yum’ much to everyone dismay “—has appointed Oracle as our eyes, and together that have determined that the two missing students are located in one of five potential areas.”

“That does not help our case, Wing.” Nightwing would never admit it but a glaring Ladybird is a dangerous Ladybird.

Silence followed as everyone thinks of something.

 ���Do we have to save them? They just made this worse on everybody.” It was Lykoi’s voice that surprisingly states this. Everyone turns to the cat theme hero with wide eyes. “What?”

“Normally under typical Paris standards, I would say no, but do to the fact that we are in Gotham and my job is on the line, I am legally obligated to say yes.” Ladybird pulls out her communicator and turns it on. “Everyone’s logged on.” A series of nods, groans, and yeses. “Good RR, what’s the plan?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it,” Red Robin could hear the impending groaning coming his way and he is not wide awake enough for this.

Which lead the Miraculous Team and the Bats to be split across Gotham searching for the two exchange students.

Ladybird and Robin’s location was empty. Nothing unusual about the location it was just an unused warehouse.

“I hate them.”

“Them being everyone or the two the idiots.”

“What do you think?”

Robin shakes his head and lets out a hefty sigh.

Lykoi and Nightwing’s location proved to be difficult to find. At first, that thought this was the place, but both heroes vigilantes were proven wrong.

“We both agree not to tell Ladybird.”

“Agree, she would kill us.”

“I heard that.” It wasn’t Ladybird’s voice that came through the comms. It was Oracle’s. “Don’t worry I won’t tell Birdie.”

Lykoi and Nightwing share a glance. It was better to be blackmailed by Oracle than be grilled by Ladybird—well that what they think anyway.

For Andrena and Red Robin, it was more of a battle of wits and smarts between the two. Actually, more on Red Robin than with Andrena (she didn’t want to be a partner with Red Hood).

“You better hope that one of the others found this fucking warehouse or I will kill you myself. These boots were expensive.” Andrena shrieks pointing to the mud that now lays pack on her boots.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it up to you.” 

Andrena rolls her eyes and opens her communicator, Red Robin does the same. However, the outcome was different for the two. On Red Robin’s feed, it was static, he quickly goes into work to scramble the information given. Andrena sees a message from Red Hood.  It reads, “Found it, suckers!”

“Hood found the warehouse.” Andrena places her communicator back on her person and looks to Red Robin. She could see the invisible sweat and sleep on his face through the cowl. “Let’s go.”

RR lets out a frustrating sigh, but as he types a last-minute code into his device the static slowly turns into quality footage. Not high quality but enough pinpoint what is happening. The room is dark but there is an ominous green glow at the lower half of the screen.

“Shit,” RR murmurs through it was loud enough to catch Andrena’s attention as an electric blue glow begins to grow behind her.

“What?” It was breathless yet concerning. Behind her, the portal fully develops causing her to let out a low growl and pushing RR in the direction of their “ride”. “Just explain it to the others.”

The portal closes and the first person they are meet by is a somewhat disappointing Ladybird.

“Hey Buggy,” Andrena sheepishly smiles, better throw RR under the bus, “RR found something interesting. Check it out.”

Ladybird makes her way over to the bee and the third Robin, she eyes RR practically asking him the question, “what he found”. Everyone waits with bated breaths as he shows her the footage. This time unlike the awkward murky background, it shows Lila and Alya tied together on a mini platform that is slowly lowering to the ominous glow below them.

“Is it sad that I want to see them fall.” The ladybug theme hero sighs into her glove-cover hands. “Alright, we need a game plan. Hood, what did you find?”

“There is a tunnel beneath the building. There’s no exterior access.”

“Oracle is sending us a blueprint.” Red Robin adds to which Nightwing nods and checks in his own portable monitor. Robin tsks and crouches down on the ground.

The planning process to a good minute to formulate.

“Is everyone in position?” The question ran through everyone’s coms as their trained bodies wait patiently for the cue. The Questioner (most likely Ladybird or Nightwing) took their silence as an answer. “Let’s go.”

The vigilantes are immediately greeted by darkness.

“Argh, my hair!” All movement ceased to exist. The Miraculous Team automatically knew that screech. It was Lila’s. “Please, I promise Bruce Wayne will make your life worthwhile. I’m very good friends with him.” Everyone, aside from Robin, felt a shiver go down their spines. Robin had gagged at the thought of Lila, his girlfriend’s tormentor, being friends with his father.

“Are you sure we can’t kill her?” Red Hood asks, well more like stated but everyone knows what he meant. He didn’t receive an answer.

“Better yet, who’s the person that decided to capture the two. There are only two heat signatures in the building.” Tim fiercely types against his device.

Nightwing kicks down the door. The large thud grabs the two teens' attention.

“We’re saved.” Lila cries out in delight. Her face literally brightens much to everyone (aside from Alya’s) dismay.

“Yes, I can finally get that interview just like you said, gurl.” Alya squeals her body wiggling on the platform.

Robin staggers in his footsteps. Interview? Like you said? Something isn’t adding up.

“Are you girls okay?” Nightwing typically heroic voice shines through as Red Robin rushes to what he believes to be the controls for the platform.

“No! We’re tied together, slowly moving to our deaths.” Alya shouts, “Ladybug?”

“Uh... no, I’m Ladybird. Now hold still.” Balancing herself on the platform in front of the two, she pulls out a knife and quickly goes cuts to the first layers of rope. “We’re the villain?”

“He was getting something to surprise us.” Lila’s voice squeaks a little. Everyone pulls back to face Lila, not including Alya.

“What do you mean?” Robin fakes a cough and glares at the Italian girl.

“No, no,” Lila begins to sweat. Her mind running multiple scenarios to get out of this. “We have no idea where he went. It was pitch black for us.” Tears forms in her eyes. Alya tries to comfort her bestie but couldn’t due to their bindings.

“Red Hood, stay on high alert, Lykoi, Andrena, follow his lead.” Ladybird cuts through the final rope. Alya shuffles her feet to get away…

“Ah!” The reporter’s foot slips.

“Merde,” Ladybird deadpans and lets herself fall.

Her right arm wrap around Alya’s waist as her left grabs for the yo-yo. It was a split second; her feet did touch the unknown substance in the large pool. She was expecting a burning sensation, but nothing happens.

“What the hell, RR, get off the control and test out the substance.” Ladybird safely places Alya down on the concrete flooring. Nightwing and Robin run over to the two for different reasons. Robin pulls Ladybird into his arms and checks for any injury while Nightwing does the same for Alya. The ombre haired girl is visibly shaking.

Lila remains on the platform above the pool screeching her head off. Andrena could already sense a headache forming and flies up to the platform. “Venom!”

Lila freezes, her screaming ceases to exist.

Rather than pushing Lila off the platform (the temptation was very luring), Andrena wraps an arm around the liar and flies to the ground floor. Suppressing a shiver, she pushes the girl out of her arms and into Lykoi’s much to his dismay.

“Seriously?” Lykoi’s glare said it all.

“I have informed Oracle that we found the missing students. She informed me that the GPD eta is ten minutes.”

“Good, that will give us time to search the premises for anything odd.” Nightwing states.

“Way ahead of you,” Red Hood shouts from afar. Eyes rolls but they all shrug in the end.

“What do you mean there weren’t any prints or such leading to the student’s kidnapper?” Commissioner Gordon asks, well he yelled but his face isn’t red yet, as the faces the Bats (aside from the large bat himself) and the Miraculous Team.

“What he meant to say, was that nothing in this warehouse suggested that there was third person let alone a typical Gotham’s villain.”

“So, you're saying this was an act?”

“No, I don’t think all of it was an act?”

“Hmm… This isn’t going to go well with explaining this to GA’s headmistress.”

Ladybird might as well say goodbye to her life and curl next to Robin in her final moments. If this was just a fake, Lila and anyone who was involved with this plan of hers are in for a treat and she’ll have front row access to it.

“Just make sure that girls are returned to GA safely, Gordon,” Nightwing instructs, they knew what he was going for. It was to them out of her and on patrol—well some of them at the very least.

~*~

Marinette curls into Damian’s chest, looking at the screen in front of them. After a night like that she didn’t want to think about the consequences that the liar had unleashed.

“You okay?” Damian presses his lips against her forehead, their hands intertwine fighting for dominance.

Marinette doesn’t say anything. How could she? There was so much floating around her mind that she couldn’t place what she was feeling at the moment.

They stay in silence until a loud thud disrupts the environment.

“Bad news,” Dick and the rest of the family file in. “Rossi confessed to the kidnapping being a ploy.”

“Goddammit, there went my morning and quite possibly my entire week.” Marinette groans collapsing next to Damian and covering her face with her hand.

“Well it’s not liked your exchange program can get any worse. You have like three weeks left of it anyway.” Jason shrugs trying to make the mood lighter… it didn’t help.

“Not now, Jaybird,” Marinette growls, causing the hairs on the back of everyone’s neck to raise high. It was rare to see Marinette angry and Lila has done the impossible. Kwami may help in the morning, especially when Marinette doesn’t get her coffee.

~*~

Mari Needs Coffee @MarinetteMemes Is it too late to push someone off the roof of WE?  🤔 #shemesswiththewrongsgirl #ineedcoffee

Tag List

 *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

THE SPECIFIC TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Permanent Tag List: @vixen-uchiha | @i-is-mysterious | @kuroko26 | @maribat-is-lifeblood | @marinettepotterandplagg | @loveswifi | @ladybug-182 | @novaloptr | @elijahcrevan | @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @rebecarojas07 | @nanakeid | @mystery-5-5 | @sparkle9510 | @aestheticnpoetic | @toodaloo-kangaroo | @more-or-less-human-i-guess | @crazylittlemunchkin | @softlysobbingpostendgame | @purplesundaze | @fantasyloversblog | @susiej1118 | @chocolateherringtacofan | @tog84 | @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss | @slytherinhquinn | @i-wanna-be-a-ninja | @abrx2002 | @agumon1123 | @coralloverwinnerwolf | @sam-i-am-0222 | @princessanimeangel11 | @k-poplunardreams | @constancetruggle | @esperiali | @starlightshield | @itspiper25 | @bluesimani | @fandom-trapped-03 | @kawaiigiantjudgefish | @pawsitivelymiraculous |  @kadmeread | @our-preciousss | @greenloverforever05 | @animegirlweeb | @souleateralicestein | @corabeth11

Unspecific Tag List: @g-arya | @jardimazul | @jeminiikrystal | @zalladane | @bluerosette23 | @dast218 | @midnighttreesgaming | @myazael | @pepelachanel | @storyecho | @thezestywalru | @dreamykitty25

Specifc Tag List:  @virgil-is-a-cutie | @thejustmesimplyme | @mewwitch | @tamoni112 | @goggles-mcgee | @bb-basbusa | @mochinek0 | @schrodingers25 | @jessigurl-design | @shamefullove | @mindfulmagics | @scribblinggraveyard | @clumsy-owl-4178 | @captainmac6 | @vivilakitty | @sonif50  | @emjrabbitwolf | @northernbluetongue | @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl | | @zebrabaker  | @readinganawfullot | @thebananathatwrites | @urbanpineapplefarmer | @hypnosharkrebeldreamer | @zerotosiki | @poshplumcot | @luciferge | @mariae2900 | @minightrose | @theatreandcomicfreak | @thequestionablyhuman | @thepeacetea | @never-neverland | @sassydepression | @multishipper1needshalp | @actual-disaster-human | @queencommonsense | @novicevoice | @vgirl-10123 | @lunar-wolf-warrior | @dahjokester | @ur-average-reader |  @gimme-more-caffeine | @reaperfeels | @interobanginyourmom | @elspethshadow | @my-name-is-michell | @redscarlet95 | @razzledazzle247 | @casual-darkness | @romanoff-queen | @7-sage-7 | @lily-codie19 | @two-faced-biatch | @spicybelladonna |  @heaven428 | @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry | @slytherinsheashire | @zazzlejazzle | @moonlitarchangels | @naclychilli | @dur55 | @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff | @scrumptiouslyelegantchaosqueen | @ravennightingaleandavatempus | @eliza-bich | @saltycolordonkeyclod | @thestressmademedoit | @queen-in-a-flower-crown | @elmokingkong | @wolf-for-life | @hoodiewitaboggie| @tellmeicantdothis | @frieddonutsweets | @k-poplunardreams | @moonlightstar64 | @sam-spectra | @bigpicklebananatree | @how-to-fuction-properly | @spookiist | @fidget-eep | @loysydark | @books-and-left-behind-journals | @paradoxal-occurance | @fantasiame | @swiftie-miraculer13 | @silvergold-swirl​

[starcrossedjedis]

hi hello i just started following you can you give me the quick and dirty rundown of your oc's??? pleeeeeaaaase

Oh wow... oh boy... well, first of all welcome <3

Second of all, I am 87% sure you are gonna regret this ask^^’

Quick and dirty you say. I will simply follow my edits tag backwards and see what I’ll find tracing back my hyperfixations ;)

Lyra Stark (Game of Thrones - Robert’s Rebellion Era)

Lyanna’s older sister. Love interest is Arthur Dayne. They pretend Jon is theirs after the rebellion, to keep him save from Robert. It’s all the classic fake marriage, co-parenting tropes we love about rom coms, but it’s GoT so it’s also mildly depressing x’D Also, this was 100% @perfectlystiles fault, because unfortunately she appears to know my trigger words ^^’

Moira Finnigan (Harry Potter - Marauders Era / Golden Era)

One true love of one Sirius Black. Her story is simultaneously told in two timelines - one telling the story of her Hogwarts years, the war and how she and Sirius found each other. The other one picks up during POA, when Sirius escapes from Azkaban and then spans the second war.

Nora Black Finnigan (Harry Potter - Golden Era)

Daughter of Moira and Sirius, is in the same year as Ginny, but forms a close relationship with the Weasley twins - especially George. Even though her story naturally spans the second war, it’s a lot about healing - first it’s about overcoming the pain of believing your father is a mass murderer and the wizarding world’s Most HatedTM and then later about living with the trauma of having fought in and survived a war.

Jay Vendar (Star Wars)

Star Wars - kinda inbetweeny RotJ and Mandalorian. All Jay Vendar wants is to live the quiet life on Takodana and keep his little sister Ria as far away from thetug-of-war between the Empire and the New Republic. But his plans go up in smoke when Ria and their friends not only buy an old Imperial freighter from Maz Kanata, but also agree to help a Togruta named Ahsoka Tano save a group of very special children from the clutches of the crumbling Empire.

Lady Leila (Narnia)

Leila grows up at the Telmarine court with Caspian. When his uncle’s looks and advances get too close for comfort, she assigns Caspian’s help to make a match for herself that will take her away from his uncle’s leering eyes and wandering hands. It’s not long until Caspian realises that there probably is a reason that he can’t even stand the thought of her marrying another man, but just as the two of them start to question the nature of their feelings for each other, Caspian mysteriously disappears on the same night Prunaprismia gives birth to Miraz’s son…

Dr. Ellie Taylor (Primeval)

When Dr. Eleanor Taylor lands her dream job at the top secret Anomaly Research Center, she thinks she’s as prepared as humanely possible when you share your workplace with a bunch of dinosaurs… and a mammoth. But she isn’t prepared for time travelling murderers, the impending end of the world - or for the feelings she catches for the ARC’s stoic Head of Security.

Nyka’a Sundar & Jaren Korr (Star Wars)

“Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.” Nyka’a Sundar and Jaren Korr have recited these lines every day of their lifes growing up in the Jedi Temple of Coruscant, but when the young Jedi’s deep bond of friendship blossoms into something more - something beautiful and dangerous and forbidden - they have to decide if living their lives by this ancient code can ever be enough for them again. ( aka. my Star Wars universe romance novel ^^’)

Mila Lebedev (MCU)

When a young Mila defected from Russia and The Red Room following the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. she never expected that nine years later she’d find herself working, fighting and living with the newly crowned Captain America and a weary hundred year old ex-assassin. (my soft girl I love her so much)

Cassia (Star Wars - Sequel Era)

When Poe Dameron finds himself on the remote planet of Lok - injured, hunted by the first order and without back up - he is saved by a street thief named Cassia. Realising the young woman could be a dead ringer for the missing crown princess of the Aquilean System, Poe hatches a desperate escape plan. With unforeseen consequences for him… and Cassia.

Tarlesyn Sand (Game of Thrones post!S8)

(no gif, just manips^^’) When a series of unfortunate events leave Tarlesyn Sand, the only bastard son of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand, as acting ambassador to the newly independant Kingdom of The North, the young man is less than thrilled. A son of sand and heat is not cut out for the bitter cold of winter and there are hundreds of places in the now Six Kingdoms that he would rather be exploring. But when he arrives at Winterfell and meets the beautiful young Queen, Tarlesyn finds that there might be something about the North that he could love…

Detective Catherine Williams (Titans Prequel)

Most days he was her best friend. He was the most important person in her life always. And some days… Some days she was almost in love with him. Some days she thought it was enough for her. But laying on the ground with both her hands pressing down on a gunshot wound and looking up at her partner’s masked face she realized just how wrong she’d been. It turned out Cat Williams didn’t know Dick Grayson at all…  

I went “And that should be it” at least three times and then found more I AM SO SORRY T_T I stuck to my fandom OCs too and spared you the army of my original rejects^^’ Thank you for following and for asking and if you really read all this <3

[harrietjulia]

Passion Project | Exploring the Films

I decided to start with some quick mind maps for each movie I have chosen to use for the festival posters. By doing this I was able to select themes, imagery and initial concepts that I could use to evoke the feeling of each film.

Wizard of Oz: Concepts to Highlight

Black & White contrasting with vivid dreamy Colour

Giltter, Sparkles 

Red (slippers, poppies) Emerald (the city) Yellow (brick road)

Split Screen, Good v Evil

Past Poster Designs

Jaws: Concepts to Highlight

Sinking Boat

Shark Bite, Blood, Red, Teeth

Harpoon gun

Open Sea (blue), stranded, swimming

Warning, Danger, Fear, Thriller

Past Poster Designs

Dirty Harry: Concepts to Highlight

Gun, reflection on pavement, persepective

1970′s aesthetic

Bullet Holes, shoot out, get away, cars

Anticipation, suspense, on edge

Broken glass, destruction

Police, Good v Evil

Past Poster Designs

Casablanca: Concepts to Highlight

Forbiddean Love

War, Espionage, escape

Black and White, film noir

Strong, dramatic lighting

Piano, Jazz, bars

Nostalgia, longing

Past Poster Designs

Star Wars: Concepts to Highlight

Space, death star, galaxy, sci-fi

Good v Evil, Jedi/Dark side

light sabers (red,blue)

Dark, brooding

Revealing, shocking moment

Resistance, war, battle

Past Poster Designs

First Explorations

Above: I played around with 3 of these films to try out some concepts on procreate (these will not be the final posters, think of these as very detailed digital sketches) by doing this I was able to toy around with some of the first ideas noted above, and it has given me inspiration for some further analogue and digital methods for my creations. It has also allowed me to practice further with hand lettering (something i find very therapeutic) I would like to trial these using type faces and analogue methods to see which direction to take. 

I have yet to sketch out first concepts for Casablanca or Star Wars and I’m starting to wonder if 5 movies is too many to work with, or should I stick with 3, I don’t want to overwhelm the work load.

Notes on sketches:

Dirty Harry

I particularly like the idea of bullet holes in the Dirty Harry poster, physically blowing away the wrong word, and I think I’m going to try my hand at using a hole punch (inspired by Saul Bass) in one design to explore this idea further. I’d also like to try using shadows on pavements to create imagery and letterforms. 

Wizard of Oz

I also liked the idea of using a split screen for the Wizard of Oz concept to create that reality/dreams idea and the change from B&W to colour (I also have a thought on mirrors or door openings for this). In this concept I used imagery of musical notes to erase the incorrect quote and tried to make the letters red and glittery, something I can toy with in analogue methods, I also think using actual ribbon could be fun to create the letters, or perhaps yellow bricks? (too far?)

Jaws

The Jaws concept will be really fun to explore, this initial concept has given me ideas to use torn or shredded paper to create shark bite and suspense. Red dripping for blood and using water, sinking to give that feeling of impending doom. 

I think one of the hardest parts of the project will be creating a co-herent feel across the posters/branding of the festival and I’m not sure how to concept 2 visual ideas as I will have many? One other thing I need to be careful with in all these concepts is legibility!

Above: I’ve also made a list of words/ideas for how I can change and manipulate the way a quote is visually read. 

I also have some fun initial ideas for the ticket stubs which I’m super excited to explore further. I love the idea of the quote changing once you tear, hole punch, fold, stick, or even scratch the ticket. The idea of pulling a slider on the ticket to change the words is super intriguing to me too, and reminds of books I read as a kid.

I have also been thinking how this could translate into a digital or wearable ticket on your phone and or wrist, my first thought is could there would be a QR code that you wear and once you leave the festival you can scan this on your phone and it prompts you to take part in a quizz to test your knowledge or the quote will simply change?

Above: Taking a look at my Dad’s ticket collection mostly from the 1970-80′s 

[mishima-in-places-he-shouldnt-be]

I don't think Professor Mishima should be standing on another Professor Mishima who is standing on another Professor Mishima who is standing on another Professor Mishima who is standing on-

Kazumi Mishima shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima who shouldn't be standing on the shoulders of Kazumi Mishima!

[sandwich-party]

30 Day Back to School Challenge: Day 8!  (actually just tips for a to do list)

Day 8: Before/after?

honestly i have zero idea what this is asking for but i will take this opportunity to pitch my favorite tip: make a to-do list!

before making a to-do list i feel all over the place. i have no structure to my day, and no clue what to do. as a person who needs a routine to function,  i find that the days that i don’t make a to-do list i get side tracked much easier and often complete less than the days that i have a to-do list. 

after making a to-do list i feel more confident in my abilities. there is little confusion on what task needs completed and no lack of structure. i streamline my productivity by managing what is urgent first, and moving on to the less urgent tasks afterward. this makes sure that im not wasting precious time folding laundry when i have an essay due in an hour.

i recommend making a to-do list the night before the day you need it, and revising/ reviewing it the day of about 45 minutes after waking up. i typically do this while eating my breakfast. it allows my brain some time to wake up, and works with my schedule perfectly, (of course you can always draft your to-do list when it best suits you! try different times! what works for me might not work for you, and that is the wonderful thing about humanity!)

if you are a visual person like me, i suggest that you color code your tasks!

 i mark my most pressing tasks in red like large assignments that are due, or late assignments that can still count for points, or chores that oh-so-desperately need done (looking at you, dishes that haven’t been done in three days), signifying the impending danger of not completing. 

i mark my less-pressing-but-still-needs-attention-that-day tasks in orange, like smaller assignments or some laundry (i tell myself i can wear that pair of pants a fifth time, but i am a liar). 

yellow is typically for tasks that could use attention but it’s not essential, like an assignment that isn’t due for a couple days but would be nice to knock of my list or sweeping the hallway. 

green is reserved for tasks that aren’t at all necessary but would be nice to do, like posting my 30 Day Back to School Challenge or reorganizing my drawers or desk or what-the-fuck-ever. 

blue is for tasks that aren’t due for a while. an essay that isn’t due for two months but i could do some background reading, or maybe something around the house like detailed dusting or a hobby. shit that would be neat to do but honestly, fuck it if i don’t get to it.

sometimes if i have a lot of stressful tasks (lots of red and orange) i will take a break from them and move on to a green or blue task, something that is enjoyable. this refreshes my brain and gets me going again, like productivity coffee.

[notbang]

R/N - #11

halloween prompt meme | read on ao3

It takes him a second to recognise her beneath the wig, but he should have guessed, really. Who else would rent a costume that takes up approximately one third of the office space with its multiple layers of petticoats?

He waits until Paula peels away from her side in the direction of the bathroom, his nostrils flaring at the probably health-code-violating screen of dry ice he has to push through in order to reach where she’s leaning against a column, eyes glued to her period-anachronous phone.

“Figures you’d be involved in this productivity suck somehow,” he says as he sidles up to her, hands stuffed in his pockets in a way he likes to think exudes nonchalance.

Rebecca regards him, unimpressed, over the top of the screen. He’s not sure if it’s the light reflecting from her phone, or her makeup, or both, but she’s even paler than usual; glowing alabaster amongst the dimly lit cubicles.  

Her answering laugh is entirely mocking. “I see your invite failed to get lost in the mail. Kudos on the costume, though—rich white dude is about the most repulsive thing I can think of.”

He gives a pointed once-over to her dress—a complex concoction of white frills and lace—and feels his lips curl back in a smirk. “Almost as terrifying as the prospect of eternal matrimony,” he agrees. “Once again, my deepest condolences, by the way.”

Any chance she has at supplying some kind of rejoinder in retort is squashed by the approach of a waiter—exactly how much money had Darryl spent on this thing, anyway?—with a round mop of black hair that looks like it escaped from a disco in the mid 70s, brandishing a tray boasting an array of dips and elaborately carved carrot sticks.

Rebecca frowns, apparently already somehow acquainted with the server. “Marty?”

“Rebecca B! This is where you work? How about that! Sweet digs. Sweet digs indeed.” The disco flunkey’s eyes light up when they roam across to Nathaniel. “And aren’t you two a fright for sore eyes? A perfectly spooky bride and groom! Yeah, that gaudy ring really finishes the look. That’s gotta be from that pawn shop over on East Cameron—they sell the weirdest old junk there. Something borrowed, something boo, am I right?”

The blossoming red blush breaks out across Rebecca’s chest like bright, blotchy watercolour beneath her skin.

“It’s not—we’re not…” she begins, face scrunching. “This is not—he’s not even wearing a costume!”

Nathaniel, amused enough at her discomfort that his disdain for the entire scenario is secondary, catches the eye of the source of her distress over her shoulder, shaking his head minutely to confirm the absurdity of the assumption.

He can’t help himself, though—his palm finds the small of her back of its own accord. Rebecca’s eyes, if possible, bug even wider as he tugs her towards him. “It never feels like a costume when it’s as real as what we have, though, does it, Muffin?”

Marty lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “Right on—I hear you, buddy. Hope you two enjoy the… patê,” he adds, indicating the tray of dips before disappearing with a playful shimmy.

Barking out a polite laugh at the eye roll-inducing pun, Nathaniel shepherds a still spluttering Rebecca into the break room—currently empty, ostensibly in favour of the makeshift dance floor forming over by the elevator—before promptly dropping his hand away from her back as if badly burned.

“Muffin?!” she seethes as as she whirls to face him, giving him an incredulous shove before batting haphazardly at his chest with her tiny, ineffectual fists.

“It only seemed apropos,” he drawls, lazily, “given how many of them you eat.”

“You…” she growls, then shakes herself, her train of thought seemingly lost to her irritation. “Why are you even here? I thought you couldn’t be within a ten mile radius of candy without your teeth literally falling out.”

“Ha ha,” he says with exaggerated sarcasm. “As distasteful as this entire embarrassing excuse of party is, it is a company event. It’d be unseemly of me not to at least make an appearance.”

“Couldn’t resist ruining everyone’s fun, more like it. God, it’s like everything is some kind of masturbatory performance with you, isn’t it?”

Her ample bosom, amplified by the cut of her gown and in considerable clear and present danger of spilling over and out entirely, rises and falls with the uneven rhythm of her steadily mounting frustration.

Not that he’s looking, or anything. Just that it’s making some kind of point of filling up his field of vision.

“Please,” he sneers, looking down the ridge of his nose and being careful to focus on her splotchy face rather than directly below it as he gestures out towards the bullpen. “Are you telling me you didn’t choose that costume as some sort of dry run for your impending nuptials to the flip flop? I bet you’ve been parading around in that dress all evening, flashing that ring at anyone that so much as glances in your direction. Congratulations, by the way—purple is his colour. Really makes that pawn shop gemstone pop when it’s curled around your fiancé’s spandex covered bicep.”

“There was a slight miscommunication on which Phantom he was dressing up as, okay,” Rebecca snaps. “And I’m not bothered by it, because it’s a charming anecdote that I’m going to tell all the Jewish-Filipino babies we’re going to have every year on Halloween.”

He forces out a sardonic laugh. “Well, have fun with that. Remind me again—why is this a Halloween party?”

“It’s Halloween in September,” she says, incomprehensibly defensive, the no duh implicit in her voice. She crosses her arms, and it does nothing to coax her heaving cleavage back into its confines. “It’s like Christmas in July, except for Halloween. Darryl’s a big fan of mixing things up, unlike you—we get it, dude! You like burgundy ties!”

Just as a riposte is forming on the tip of his tongue, Jim—an eyesore in bright red pleather if one ever existed—barrels through the break room with a drunk and disorderly, vampire-fang-bearing Tim hot on his heels, forcing Nathaniel to sidestep abruptly out of their path. The issue with that is, he fails to notice until he hears the resulting sharp intake of breath, is that it has him pressing Rebecca into the corner of the bench in front of the tinsel-adorned coffee maker.

The smart thing to do would be to step away. The dangerous thing—the stupidest decision possible, really—would be to stand his ground. To loom and crowd her further.

God, it’s like the idiocy of this place is seeping into him via osmosis.

Rebecca gulps, untamed breasts brushing distractingly against his sternum, and casts a frenzied glance out into the party proper, making sure no one is watching them through the slats.

A little light headed but ultimately spurred on by her fluster, Nathaniel straightens his spine and dips his head, voice tipping low to tease. “It still makes sense, you know. The costume choice. After all, your life is basically a soap opera. And nobody can blame you for wanting to hide that—” He nods towards the photocopier, where Josh is otherwise occupied with his attempts to get a Jenga game going with several desks’ worth of highlighters. “—away behind a mask.”

“Yeah, well,” she sputters, “it’s lucky that he got the costume wrong. Because his left is actually his best angle. Yeah. So you’d be missing out, otherwise. And you’re, like, so incredibly wrong. I don’t want to hide his face. I love that face. It’s my favourite face.” He doesn’t miss the way her gaze flits down to his lips, and his tongue darts out to wet it on autopilot. “I wanna rub my face all over his face, all the time.”

He leans in further, and he can’t be imagining it—the way her breath falters, and her eyelids start to flutter as his breath fans out across her face with deliberation. “Uh-huh.”

Interesting, he thinks, filing away the visible pluck of the cords in her neck as she swallows, as if in slow motion, to revisit later.

As if compelled by some inexplicable urge and drunk off finally, finally feeling like he has the upper hand, he tilts minutely, mouth moving towards grazing the shell of her ear. “I know it’ll be tempting, when you’re lying in bed tonight, trying to get the image of your mediocre choice of a life partner squeezed into a morph suit the colour of Barney dinosaur out of your head. But do me a favour, Rebecca, hmm? Try not to—” He pauses dramatically for effect. “—think of me.”

He can tell by the way her eyes widen with surprise for a split second only to scrunch in confusion that she’s caught the reference. Finally, he thinks as his pulse thrums through him with intense satisfaction: a use for having to spend hours inside a stuffy theatre box with an aunt that always smelled too strongly of peppermint oil.

A moment later and Rebecca’s spring-loaded, shoving him aside to make her escape. Just before she melts back into the throng of partygoers, though, she turns, left hand curling around the edge of the wooden partition, ring glinting red beneath the disco lights; the only time all night she’s managed not making it look embarrassingly staged.

“In your dreams,” she tells him, deadly serious, then hikes up her voluminous skirts and stomps off in flurry of frilly white lace and bouncing black-brown synthetic curls.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 72

~*~Sebastian~*~

Yes, I gave Emma a key on her way out the door and told her to keep it. Pretty chickenshit, huh? Only it's not. I gave her a key on her way out the door and told her to keep it because it's not a big deal. There's no reason to have a conversation. I had my mom drive me to the back of the school where I put my shit in her vehicle. I knew the code and thought nothing of stowing my suitcase. I realize my apartment is different than a vehicle. Again, except it's not. The thought of her calling or, fuck, knocking on the door when she came back, did not feel right. And if I was in the shower, what was she going to do, sit outside the door and knock occasionally? Fuck no. So, I gave her a key.

The worst thing Emma would do is show up before I got home and rearrange some drawers and leave some cabinets open. Speaking of drawers, I cleared out a couple for her. The first thing I did after she left was to go into my bedroom and unpacked her suitcase, which I then shoved in the hall closet. The last time she was here I liked her things mixed in with mine. Still true. Her dresses hanging in my closet, shampoo in my shower, and the toothbrush I'd held hostage all made me smile.

Everything about Emma made me smile.

I got back to work only to be interrupted by a text from Will telling me Alissa was having lunch with Angie and Emma. Oh good, I might get to have another fun conversation. After the group chat with Alissa and Kirk I was confident that wouldn't happen. By the time we were done, I think they understood they could have fucked things up. Luckily Emma came to me. Plus, I learned how different my behavior looked to friends. Nothing I could do about that and in the end, it turned out well.

Before I knew it, I heard a key in my front door. The expected thrill from that was better than I imagined. I put everything down with a plan for her to return to my lap. Plan was blown when Emma and Angie struggled through the door carrying an obscene number of bags. So many colors, sizes, and store names on so many bags.

I stood to help, taking from one of her hands, "What the fuck did you two do?"

Emma stretched up onto her toes and kissed me, "I have a problem."

"You ran out of stores?"

"No." She glared at me. "Sometimes the stars align. Free time in the city on a beautiful day for shopping. My best friend for company and to stop me from buying a fashion faux pas. A boyfriend who has an appreciation for me in nice things. And an impending trip to France."

Angie added, "Stores with new inventory. And a tequila lunch to impair our impulse control at that adorable shop you two found."

I lined the bags up on our dance floor. "I think you two are dangerous. You don’t reign each other in."

They laughed, “Yes we do." Both waved a hand over the bags and Emma said, "This could have been much worse."

Just looking at the bags and glimpses of their contents I guessed there were many hundreds of dollars in my living room. I liked how she shopped. "Show me everything." This buying spree was all me. Show tonight, first date, and five days in Paris. "I’m excited.” Her trying on everything in a just for me fashion show would have to wait for another time.

I oohed and awwed and made cringey faces with each outfit. The pair had a similar style, with Emma's being kicked up a notch. She took more risks. "Which will you be torturing me with tonight?"

Emma stuck her tongue out with a huge grin, "Which do you want?"

I felt my dirty smirk, "You know which one." My pants felt a little tighter with just the thought.

Angie waved, "I don't."

"You'll have to wait."

Angie looked from Emma to me, "I'd warn you to be careful what you ask for, but I think you can handle the strain."

"Or die trying." I shrugged.

We sat down, laughing and talking until Angie noticed the time. "Shit."

Soundcheck at six, doors at seven, then music at eight. The second group on at ten-thirty.

"Can you get ready here and go over with us?" It made no sense for her to round trip to Brooklyn when Bowery Ballroom was ten minutes away on a bad night.

Angie looked at Emma, "Do you have shoes?"

Emma nodded.

I stood up, "Let me shower then you two can have the bedroom."

Emma stood, "I'll grab my stuff and we’ll start in the guest bath." She followed me into the bedroom, where she attempted to tackle me onto my bed. I let her. She pushed me to my back and stretched out on me. "Did you have a good day?"

First things first. I kissed her, resting my hands on her ass. "I did. Not as good as you."

"Then I will make sure you have a good night."

"That sounds fun."

Emma kissed me, her tongue seeking out mine. I left one hand on her ass and sunk the other in her hair I didn't let her go the first time she tried to push away. I wasn't ready. The second time I eased my grip and she stayed up on her arms hovering over me for several seconds. I cocked my head and pulled down my eyebrows. She smiled and lowered for a soft kiss, “I love you."

"I love you."

Emma stood up and walked to where she'd put her bag. "Umm, Sebastian?"

I'd taken off my shirt, working on my shorts, "I unpacked."

"You unpacked me?" She looked a little surprised.

"I did." I walked into the bathroom naked. "Makeup and stuff in here. Clothes in some drawers."

She followed me, "Thank you." Emma's fingers trailed down my chest, stopping below my navel.

"Would you believe me if I said I don't like bags on the floor?"

"No."

I touched my lips to hers, staying close, "Smart girl." I pulled open the shower door, "Get away from me or we'll be late."

She pinched my ass with a laugh before grabbing her stuff and leaving.

I've given up drawer space before. Having someone dig clean panties out of a suitcase after you fucked her is shitty if she's staying longer than a weekend. I didn't think giving her drawers warranted a conversation either. However, now that she's home and I'm alone in the shower my overthinking brain wonders. It would have to wait.

The ladies were dressing up, but I was not. The Bowery is a big hot room shoved full of people. When I'd been there, one side of the mezzanine was roped off for a VIP area with tables and bar service. There's no way in hell Kirk won’t have a section for friends and family for him to hold court in. Still, it's a rock show. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of boots. Brushed my teeth, threw some product in my hair, and prepared to evacuate the space. I yelled down the hall, "Ladies, room is yours.” I heard them gathering and coming my way. I waited until they were in the room before holding out my arms, "Do I look acceptable?"

Emma stopped with a smile, "You look wonderful."

Angie shook her head, "Uh uh, she's wearing black. You’re too dark and you’ll blend."

I wasn't a stranger to complementary dressing for a date. "The blue’s not different enough?"

"Too dark a blue. On the mezzanine it'll look black."

I looked for Emma who was sitting on the bed, "Don't look at me. I wear tour shorts to dad's shows and Jimmy wasn’t about to change from his collared shirts."

Angie laughed, "His style was pretentious asshole." She thought a second, "I'd say white for a stark contrast or a red. Even though red is darker it’s a good look. Red and black is better than navy and black."

Emma raised her hand.

Angie called on her, "Yes, Emiliana."

"Ms. Angie, I would like to vote red." Of course, she would.

Angie looked at me, "How does Mr. Seb feel about the request?"

"I feel like my girlfriend is making me her own personal eye candy." The two ladies looked at each other aghast. I snickered, "I approve because I got input on the dress." I ducked onto the closet and pulled out the exact red shirt Emma wanted. Our second date and her first visit I opened the door in it. I held it out, "Better." They nodded. I handed the red one to Angie, handed the navy one to Emma, and took the red from Angie. They were shifting eyes from each other and me. I stood there looking between them.

"Do we pay you for the strip show?" I liked Angie playing with me like I did Chris, Will, and Chace goofing off with Emma.

I shook my head, "No, but tips are appreciated." I glanced at the clock, "We need to be out in thirty minutes if we don’t want to be late."

"We'll be ready."

"You both already look beautiful.  Your clothes are in the right three drawers." Emma nodded with a smile and I leaned over on one foot to kiss her, "Love you."

Emma threw out, "Te iubesc, Sebasti-an."

I shivered, "I'll be waiting by the window.”

I was out the door when I heard Angie. "He's not emotionally unavailable. He's crazy in love."

I yelled back, "Thanks for your confidence."

I forgot the best friend was in the room when Alissa and Kirk were dropping bombs. We're way past that now. If Angie had doubts I couldn’t blame her. She'd be the one to deal with any destruction I caused. I was going to bust my balls not to. I may not be the best at giving myself credit for my good points, but I’m not stupid. Most of the time.

The longer it took them to come out the antsier I got. Emma doesn't take this long to get ready. Either they're talking more than getting ready or she's doing something complicated. No idea which.

Twenty minutes in Angie came down the hall. She'd curled her hair and had on the bright red dress she'd bought today. It was fitted, short, and off the shoulder. I whistled, "Sexy. Your husband will like."

Angie smiled, "Thank you. He likes red."

"Looks good on you." I laughed. "I can see why Eli never disputed the throuple thing. I'm going to enjoy walking in with two of you."

"Yeah, he ate that up. I'm sure he felt like his single self again. Threesomes with fans were his thing. Every night on tour and when they played locally."

I didn't know what to say. Part of me was impressed. I'd had threesomes, but every night? They're fun, but there's a lot of things going on all at once. Unless you just lay back and enjoy the attention. I think I'll stop now.

Angie read something on my face. She shook her head, "I tell you this to say that Eli was a very different person before we met. People change. People want different things in different relationships. Sometimes things they didn’t know they wanted. Eli was very different with me than those who came before me. You get to be different too."

Did not expect that. She had her butt on the window sill beside me. I leaned over and kissed her cheek, "Thank you."

She nodded with a smile, "You're welcome." Angie chuckled, "Eli's friends, especially the band, struggled with the changes. Then Boone met this cute little twink and discovered he was gay. Eli's changes were comparatively minuscule."

We were still laughing when Emma came into the room. I stopped laughing and mumbled, "Fuck."

Emma curtsied, "Thank you."

Emma's little black dress was... wow. The top looked like it had a built-in bra that lifted her breasts and showed an enticing amount of cleavage. Straps were far to the side, almost under her arms and straight over her shoulder. There was another pair of straps that connected at the corner of the dress and shoulder strap. They went diagonal across her chest and connected to a thicker collar around her neck. Triangles of bare skin showed off breasts and collar bones. It was the collar that would keep my attention for the skin in covered. Emma's favorite place to be kissed was hidden. What had taken them so long was her hair. Usually, she puts smooth curls into her naturally wavy hair. Tonight her hair was long and straight. It hung over one shoulder and was inches longer than when curled.

I stood from the window sill and stepped toward her while plotting where my hands went. I think one to her waist to feel the tight stretch of material over her body and the other is going for her hair. The material was thick and soft. It had the structure to hold everything in place. Up close I could see the black underwire on the bra and the soft swell of her breasts blooming over the top. I had plans for kissing there. I pulled up a strand of hair close to her temple and ran my fingers through to the end, well past her breasts. She wore more makeup than usual, still beautiful, but I didn’t want to mess her up. I pulled her bottom lip between mine and ran my tongue over. I kept her close as I pulled from her lips, "Beautiful doesn’t cover it, Emma."

M-am gandit la tine toata ziua, Sebasti-an.  <I've been thinking of you all day.>

“Mă voi gândi la tine toată noaptea. Fiind în interiorul tău, gustându-te.” <I'll be thinking of you all night. Being inside you, tasting you.>

From beside us I heard, "I don't know what he said, but from the tone it's dirty." Angie took Emma's hand from my shoulder and led her away. "You can translate later. I need to go say dirty things to my husband."

Ten minutes later we were at the Bowery Ballroom. Angie had texted Eli to meet us at the door. A guy wearing a "STAFF" t-shirt opened the door and asked if we knew where we were going. Angie and Emma nodded. I shrugged. I hadn't been here in years and had forgotten that once inside you went down a set of stairs to a low ceilinged bar. Past the bathrooms, you went upstairs to the main floor. A larger bar was at the opposite end from the stage. There were stairs on either side leading to the balcony. There were black cases opened on the floor in front of the stage. That’s when it hit me. This was her world, not mine.

I could feel the excitement rolling off Emma. She looked over to me, her smile wide, and I squeezed her hand. Eli jumped off the stage, kissing Angie before greeting us. The other band had taken longer to soundcheck and they were running behind.

Emma looked around, "Where is Keaton?" Eli pointed up. She added, "Mia here?"

"Not yet."

"We'll see you up there." Emma led me to a hallway to the right of the stage and up another set of stairs, talking as we walked. "Keaton opened for Pearl Jam many years ago and then the last tour. He and Mia had just gotten together the first time. Now they have two kids. They like to tell their story to new people. It's fun."

At the top of the stairs, I stopped, pulling her hand back to me. "I love how excited you are. You know this world, how it works." Her confidence going into a backstage area was evident. She knew what she was doing, where she was "I want to see you backstage at a Pearl Jam concert. I bet you’re treated like royalty."

She smiled, "Staff and the longtime fans are protective, you don't fuck with the Vedder women. Even on fan sites and social media friends and family are treated with respect. People are quick to be put in their place or kicked out. None of the guys put up with shit. Ed calls people out from stage. But I’m not anybody here"

I didn't believe that for a second. She is Eddie Vedder's daughter. I bet she's treated with respect here too, partly because if she’s not, the band will never open for PJ again. I was getting increasingly proud and excited being with her here. Excited for me to experience something I didn't know from the inside.

Top of the stairs was a security guard. First one I'd seen since we arrived. He was bigger than me, but not by much. Beefy Civil War Bucky could have taken him easy. This guy had a clipboard and a list.

"Name?"

I let her handle this. Her name, one of her options, held more weight than mine. Emma smiled, "Emiliana Vedder."

He looked up from his list, eyeing her slowly, "I'm a huge Pearl Jam fan. You need anything you find me. I’m Dylan."

“Thank you, Dylan."

Dylan pointed down the hall.

I laid my hand on her hip. Without her, I didn't belong here. Part of my brain was enjoying being second to her in this world. I wasn’t as thrilled when I was second in the acting world. That felt like competition. This feels like fun. No pressure or networking for me. Hollywood and music were built on knowing and improving your place in the food chain. I think she's at the top of this food chain. Not that it matters, but I can’t help thinking this way. When I walk into a party or event I am immediately checking for who I know and who I want to know.

Short hall to an open door, Emma called out as we got closer, "Hope you're decent."

A deep voice with a New York accent answered, "Have you ever known me to be decent?"

"Ok, just not naked?"

We went through the door and the owner of the voice came toward us. "Close enough."

The man was taller than me, had long skinny legs, and a strong upper body. He wasn't in a shirt, but he had enough chest chair to count as a sweater. He went straight for my girl, wrapping her into a tight hug. "It's been too long." He stepped back and looked her over more closely than I liked, "You are bloody fucking gorgeous. If I didn't have Mia I’d be taking you home with me tonight"

Emma laughed, "I think he might object." She nodded in my direct.

Keaton’s attention turned to me, "Lucky bastard." He held out a hand, "Keaton."

"Sebastian. Nice to meet you."

Keaton introduced the others in the band. Kevin spoke when done, "Can we call you Bucky?"

"Not if you want me to answer." My canned response sets a limit and gets a laugh. And they did laugh.

My thinking had been correct. Emma was the star of our couple tonight. They caught up and Emma filled them in on what Ed was doing before attention turned to me. The questions weren't about Marvel. They wanted to know about the weightless stuff in The Martian and making out with Margot Robbie. Stacy, Kevin's wife, wanted to talk about Once Upon a Time.

We talked over the soundcheck going on below only interrupted by the arrival of a pixie sized woman coming into the room. She looked over all of us, seemed to wink at Emma, then locked eyes with Keaton, "Hey, Rockstar."

Keaton stood to go to her, "Cheerleader." They met for a kiss that I could feel.

Emma pointed, "That's Mia." Everyone else went back to talking and out of the corner of my eye I could see the couple stop kissing to talk then start kissing again. No one paying attention told me this wasn't unusual. They didn’t break apart until Eli and company came through the door and only then because Kirk pushed Keaton away so he could hug Mia.

With the moment gone Keaton joined the rest of us, grabbing a backpack before he sat down. Mia followed less than a minute later, pulling Emma off the couch, "So excited when Keaton told me you were coming."

They hugged and Emma said, " We've got some catching up to do."

Mia looked at me, "Yes, we do."

I stood while Emma laughed, "Mia this is Sebastian."

"Nice to... oh" I was surprised when Mia pulled me into a hug, "meet you."

Mia stepped back, "Sorry, I'm a hugger."

"Me too." I smiled, "It’s nice to meet you."

A voice came from the doorway. The same man who had let us in, "Doors open."

Eli nodded, "Thanks, Bill."

Bill moved out of the way as a server with a large tray of shot glasses came into the room. Everyone took one and Eli asked him to close the door as he left. I was in the middle of a tradition and followed along. Eli held up his glass, "Good friends, good music, good times."

Keaton added, "And a night we'll never forget, except the parts we can't remember."

Everyone drank. Keaton pulled a joint out of the smaller bag he’d pulled from his backpack and lit up. I guess we'd be marking get high together off our couple's Bingo card. The joint got to Emma first and she inhaled deeply. I took a kiss as she handed it off to me. The smoke hit my lungs and it was like they remembered, opening up to pull in a memory. I'd hadn't had a cigarette in years, a heavy habit that had been hard to break. My pot usage varied. More social than solo and it had been awhile. Thinking back, I hadn't been high since we'd met. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly with a smile, "Pot makes me horny."

I heard laughter and opened my eyes. They were laughing at Emma, whose arms were up like she was signaling a touchdown.

Eli was looking at me, "When are you not?"

I started to protest then pulled back, "Good point.” Emma was signaling another touchdown. I pulled her arms down. "Why are you acting like you never get laid?"

All four women shook their heads. Stacy had just handed off to Mia, "That’s celebrating the good sex to come."

I could already feel the mellowing out and my smile felt slow, "Ok, that's good, or it will be."

Emma put her arm over my shoulder and kissed my cheek, "Very good."

Mia pointed back and forth between us, "How long has this been going on?"

I went in with the answer, "A month on Monday."

Keaton, Kevin, and JP looked at each other with a low growl, "New couple sex is such a fun crapshoot. You gotta try everything at least twice."

Kirk snickered, "That’s two birthdays, Seb."

I flipped him off.

Keaton had a shit-eating grin on his face, "My Mia doesn't get horny. She gets touch hungry and I can play that to turn in to horny.”

Angie threw her hand out toward Emma, "Also gets touch hungry and a dirty mind. If she can stop laughing."

JP started laughing, "Oh yeah, remember Iowa?

Emma shook her head violently, "Nothing good happened in Iowa. Iowa was a disaster with bright moments."

I leaned in, "I wanna hear this. I'm envious of tour stories." They went quiet, "Who's going to start?'

Emma huffed out a breath, "Iowa was a festival in the front yard of a water company. It was muddy, hot, and in the middle of nowhere. Pearl Jam was the headliner. There were several other acts. Keaton, Neon Trees, Hanson, Adam Lambert. I wanted to meet Adam. Dad said not alone. I took Keaton."

Keaton picked up the story, "Adam is a fucking wall wrapped in leather and spikes. Imposing. I take her to his trailer, he's smoking, and we join. The conversation got filthy fast. They were making plans."

Emma took over, "They were imaginary threesome plans. Very detailed. Keaton was all in until he figured out this threesome had him as the center of attention, not me. Adam turned it on and Keaton thought leaving me with Adam was safer than him staying."

I laughed, "You bailed!"

“The plans had gotten too specific and he's big. You know what I mean." He shivered, "I went back and got stoned with Ed. That’s fucking nirvana every time. Who doesn’t dream of getting stoned with Pearl Jam."

I pouted, "I haven’t met him."

Emma sang, "Christmas."

Eli picked up, "You’re going to Hawaii?"

I nodded.

"Maybe don't tell him getting high makes you horny."

"Let's get stoned so I can fuck your daughter is a bad idea?" We were all laughing again. I was not going to do that.

Emma stood and went toward the refrigerator. I glared at Kirk and he followed her. He needed to apologize. Keaton went for his guitar, "He’s very protective."

The musicians started getting ready. Changing clothes, adding deodorant, and last trips to the bathroom. People shifted from sitting to standing and between pods of people. Emma and Kirk were still in the corner by the fridge. I joined Keaton and Kevin and heard more about Iowa. Emma was right, it was a disaster, but they had fun. Another joint went around and I noticed what a strange word Iowa was. It has too many vowels. Also realized[LW1]  I didn't know where it was, "Is that one of the square states?"

Since we were high things were funnier than they actually were. Like my question.

"You skip fourth grade?" Keaton snickered.

"I was in Austria in fourth grade."

"No shit!"

I laughed at his expression. "Romania, Austria, then here."

Keaton sighed, "I fucking loved Prague."

"That’s the Czech Republic.”

"Not Romania?" He shook his head slowly as he spoke.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

I pointed to myself and said emphatically, "Romanian."

"Well, fuck me. I thought it was Romania."

"Don't give me shit about not knowing Iowa."

We laughed so hard and so long we were holding onto each other with tears running down our cheeks.

Heaving for breath Keaton got out, "Squarish state attached to the Chicago state. At the bottom. West."

"Thank you."

We kept laughing until I felt hands on my waist slide around on my stomach. I knew it was Emma, but since I was stoned, I glanced at the hands just to be sure. What was coming would be bad if it wasn't her. Emma's touch hunger and my horniness were an incendiary combination.

I raised one arm to turn in that direction. Emma loosened her hold enough to allow me to face her. I put my hands on her face diving straight into a kiss. Our tongues met and her fingers dug into my back. She tasted of weed and tequila. I couldn't get enough of all three.

I heard Keaton's voice behind me, "Time to go, Seb."

I peeled myself away from my girl and took her hand. Since this wasn't a true opener and main act sort of thing the non-performing group would be upstairs with the rest of us. As we filed out of the room, we passed by Kirk who was holding a small bowl of gummy bears. The edible would kick in as the joint was fading and see us through the night.

[enchanted-prose]

#20 A Circle of Stones

learn the name, not the face

Word count: 5,552

Characters: Tobias, Merry (original character), Regar, Ayvar, Oberson’s men, the Faola, Alistair, Jolly, Renlyn

Notes: this one is literally and figuratively dark, tw for violence

Enjoy!

There were better ways to spend a midday break than being in the dungeons. The Roving River was starting to rise due to the recent storm, which meant that there were plants to be harvested. If Tobias wanted to feel musty, he could crawl through a cave with Fink.

And yet, there he was, talking to a man suspected of treason.

Talking to a man who’d helped somebody escape after attacking the king.

It wasn’t like he was helping various prisoners escape. He was checking in on those who were locked away.

There was no way he could go out into the city to help people if there were others suffering below his feet.

“How are you, commander?” Tobias asked, pulling at his dark green shirt sleeves. “I know you’re not from Avenia, but I figured you might like to know that King Jaron agreed to send aid to Avenia.”

The dungeon was illuminated with summer sunlight, which meant the flea-ridden rats would hide for a little while longer. Tobias wanted to see Regar, wanted to let him know that his situation wasn’t as dismal as it could be with somebody to talk to. However, talking to him was almost like talking to a brick wall.

“I thought I’d mention that Jaron- ah, the king will likely let you go, free of charge. He thinks you didn’t have anything to do with the Faola escape.”

Regar coughed, “That’s kind of him.”

“King Jaron is a good man, he’s trying to set a precedence of treating people with respect,” Tobias rambled. A spider crawled up the bars in Regar’s cell.

“Good, good, the world needs more men like that. You should see every person as a living, thinking, feeling thing. You muddle lines when you don’t.”

“You’re feeling chatty today! Not that I’m complaining, just noticing.”

“I’ll be getting another visitor,” Regar brushed down the front of his leather jerkin. “I don’t speak much, but it’s still odd being in silence.”

He was right about the silence.

The Carthyan dungeons were almost empty. Prisoners were kept at various distances apart when they could be. Apparently, it was in an attempt to prevent anybody from leading a prison revolt, but Tobias had only heard whispers of this.

Silence grew painful after a while.

If Jaron knew Tobias was talking to a man who was suspected of treason, he’d probably forbid Tobias from speaking to Regar. Or he wouldn’t. With each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to predict what Jaron was going to do. Just that morning, he’d canceled every meeting he had planned.

Only a fool would try to control Jaron, and only Imogen and Mott could get him to slow down long enough to tell somebody else what he was up to.

Regar plucked a piece of straw from his massive beard, “Tell me, Lord Branch, is it true that they caught Mireldis Thay and locked her in her rooms?”

“Ah, well, uh, we think we have Mireldis Thay,” Tobias kicked at the ground.

“Perhaps she has you. Have you considered that?”

“She has- oh! You’re joking. My wife isn’t sure about it, about Mireldis being our prisoner, she thinks it’s dangerous. Ah, well, especially because she was able to hurt the king.”

“And the king imprisoned me for taking justice into my own hands.”

“Roden justifies it by saying you let Mireldis go.”

“By slipping?”

Tobias frowned. He had to stick with Roden’s account. Regar let the Faola go on purpose, not by tripping over his own feet. “It’s just to make sure that what you did was completely an accident.”

“You don’t need to explain,” Regar held his hands up. “But take this warning with you, my lord, there aren’t many people as forgiving as your king.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, not at all. I learned long ago not to go head to head with royalty. Mireldis Thay is a princess no matter what she wears or how she hides,” said Regar. He rubbed at both of his eyes, and sat down on his cot. “She knows how to play multiple sides while wearing a smile. It is a sin to assume a princess will remain in her tower. They are much more deadly than any headstrong prince.”

Had Regar ever said so much in one moment before? Tobias wasn’t sure. He hadn’t said that much since Tobias began coming to visit him.

There was an edge to his words. Something lurking.

The hidden truths and twisted facts were tiring Tobias. He missed the days of honesty. When people didn’t hide behind names and faces.

Although, he was a member of the royal court. It was very hard to find sincerity even without the threat or Mireldis Thay and her lust for Feall’s head.

“Did you know her?” Tobias asked, clasping his hands behind his back. “Did you help Mireldis Thay escape on that day Jaron was attacked?”

“You’re luring me into the noose, aren’t you?”

Tobias took a step back, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how to react to Regar’s comment.

He’d almost forgotten how close he was to Jaron, the supreme power in Carthya. Of course Regar would see Tobias not as a friend, but as somebody trying to draw out a confession.

And it stung.

It hurt knowing that Regar’s silence was weighed down by an impending punishment. It kept him quiet. Regar’s hesitation to speak came because he didn’t trust Tobias.

Didn’t trust him to keep their conversation between the two of them.

He tried to shove his shock away with a chuckle the same way Jaron pushed through awful news by making a joke. “Don’t worry, Regar, I’m a doctor. I save people, rather than leave them to die. And I think you’ll be able to plead your case tonight.”

“I did help someone that night,” Regar nodded. “But I didn’t help the bandit you and so many

others are bent on finding.”

“Then who was it?”

Somebody’s footsteps echoed down the stairs. Regar’s beard twitched up. He was smiling. “I

mustered the courage to speak to my daughter. I helped her chase chickens back into a pen.”

“They should make chicken chasing a sport,” Tobias said, trying to keep the conversation even.

It wasn’t his intention to catch Regar in a lie and turn him over to Jaron.

“I didn’t think you’d be here, Lord Branch,” said Merry, bowing till her short hair brushed the ground.

“Making a new friend. Have you met Commander Regar?”

She nodded, “I have. But I came here for another friend of mine. Have you seen Ayvar? She’s been here for several weeks, she has red hair.”

“They moved her to the tower ages ago,” Regar said. “Word is that the king released her yesterday.”

“They moved Ayvar?”

“Aye, lass, you won’t find her anywhere near here.”

“What do you have in the basket?” Tobias asked, he’d heard tales of the legendary lemon tarts being served at the Dragon’s Keep. Maybe he’d get one.

“It’s not important anymore,” Merry shrugged, but she withdrew two wrapped muffins. “You’re welcome to have these, I was going to give them to Ayvar, but it seems that my morning plans are canceled.”

“How’s your tavern?” Regar asked, holding his hand out for a muffin. He smirked when Tobias conceded and gave out one of the muffins.

A wide smile broke across Merry’s face, “It’s going well! Dawn’s convinced that I’m out drinking every night because I have a tendency to sleep in, but I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Best be getting your sleep, girl. Or you’ll be strung out like Master Branch here.”

“Hey! I am not strung out!” Tobias exclaimed, crossing his arms.

There were too many things that needed to be taken care of. Too many people to be patched up. Tobias knew that he was the best at doing what he needed done. It was useless depending on another person when he was completely capable of handling a situation on his own.

Besides, he didn’t want to be let down by relying on another person, nor did he want to disappoint a person who was relying on him.

That’s why he wrote every paper, sewed every stitch, and checked on every patient.

Maybe he was a little high strung.

All he needed was his own.

And Amarinda, of course, but she was a force of nature all on her own. He kept up with her, and she kept up with him. Amarinda rose to every challenge. Nothing scared her. She knew her abilities, and she knew what was expected of her.

It was her efficiency and understanding that caught Tobias’s eye all those years ago.

Merry was laughing. Laughing in front of a man convicted under suspicions of treason.

He caught himself thinking about how nice it must’ve been to walk into a dungeon and be able to talk to anyone in sight. Merry’s fearless friendliness was something many people lacked.

It was a good talent to be envious of.

“I am, I am,” she insisted. “Do you know where Ayvar went, Lord Branch?”

Tobias shook his head, “I’m not the person to talk to regarding her. Captain Harlowe probably knows, you could ask him.”

“I’d hate to leave the two of you, it’s a little rude to come barging in on a conversation and then leave less than a minute later.”

“The muffins make up for it,” Regar’s beard was littered with crumbs.

“Glad you liked them, Dawn’s selling them to pocket a few more garlins today,” Merry said.

Market day! Farmers and crafters from all over Carthya selling their best products. Tobias had a list of things he needed for the physician's chambers. He’d try to take Amarinda with him this time as he pawed through every peddler’s stash of herbs.

He’d heard somewhere that somebody was bringing tools from Mendenwal to sell. Those tools would be the envy of every doctor in Drylliad.

“Ah, lass, do you mind taking a message back to my men?” Regar asked. He then looked to Tobias, “You don’t need to worry about me giving away secrets.”

“I’d be disappointed if you tried with me so close,” said Tobias, stepping a little to the left to make room for Merry.

“I’ll do my best to remember,” Merry nodded.

“Tell them to wait for a command from me,” Regar said, he didn’t appear to be hiding anything. “Unless they’re told about lines, they know what I mean when I say that.”

“But I don’t,” Tobias pointed out.

“It’s code. If Lord Row leaves without me, my men are to stay near until I can return to them. If I return to them.”

Merry held her hand to her forehead, and brought it down. “Sir, yes, sir! Now, if you two will excuse me, I’ve got a friend to track.”

Tobias watched her spin on her heels and race back up the stairs. She seemed nice enough, a little rushed, but nice. And the muffins she made really were delicious. Ayvar was lucky to have a friend who’d track her down.

He looked back to Regar, who’d steepled his fingers together.

“I think I’ll take my leave too, there’s much that needs to be done today,” Tobias clasped his hands together. “I hope you can understand.”

“Your conversation makes things a little more bearable,” said Regar.

“Thanks. Some people grow bored.”

“Don’t worry about them.”

“I’ll try not to, but I am a doctor. And my dearest friend is a king who knows no fear. It’s my job to worry.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Amarinda ultimately declined going to market day when Tobias offered.  King Oberson finally worked up the courage to return home on the premise that  Mireldis Thay was locked away in the castle tower. He’d leave as soon as market day ended. Lord Thomas Row also expressed his desires to leave, but only after Regar was released from the dungeon.

It was entirely possible that Lord Row would be staying there for several months.

Market day was bursting with people and food, even as the sun began to set.

Tobias wouldn’t let himself be tempted with the scent of spun sugar and roasting pears. Not again. Not this time. He’d saved as many garlins as he could for these tools, and he wouldn’t waste them on food.

Although he’d love at least-

No! He had to think of his profession!

Tobias pushed his hair out of his eyes, and soldiered past the carts and carts of food.

The fabric and ribbon carts came next. A page wearing an official looking tunic held out his  hand for a green ribbon, giving a handful of garlins in return. The page bowed at Tobias, and then continued to his next cart.

He wondered who would be wearing that ribbon the following morning.

Vendors left and right hawked their wares. Some vendors had already left, leaving empty spaces every so often. The noise and temptation would’ve been much stronger during the afternoon. Tobias wouldn’t have stood a chance. He would’ve bought every bucket of spun sugar he could, even if it meant throwing it all up the very next day.

Lamplight glinted off of a cart full of throwing knives. He’d finally reached the metal carts.

Please let the tools still be there.

“Excuse me,” Tobias said, marching right up to one of the vendors. “I’m looking for medical tools, do you know where I could find them?”

It was like he’d walked into one of the hunting kennels with a piece of meat. Every vendor began shouting all of their items.

It almost reached the level of madness that some regents’ meetings had.

There were too many options, too many vendors to choose from. Tobias had to check every single one. If it weren’t for the list he’d made, he would’ve bought every single tool available for purchase.

“They used this tool to pull an arrow out of King Aranscot’s face!”

“This tool saved a queen from the western lands!”

“Only the best surgeons carry these! You’ll need it for cutting demons out of a man!”

Unfortunately for the last vendor, Tobias had no intentions of slicing an unseen entity out of a patient. His whole goal was to save, not to kill.

The tool that was supposedly used to pull an arrow from King Aranscot’s face resembled a pair of tongs. However, unlike the average pair of tongs, this pair had a screw in the middle with a series of tiny hooks at the end.

Arrow wounds were uncommon during days of peace, but it never hurt to be prepared.

The tongs felt heavy in Tobias’s bag, but welcome. This tool would save, and maybe Tobias would be known for pulling an arrow from somebody’s face.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be Jaron’s.

He stood in the middle of the street several strides away from the other vendors, watching the life and bustle of market day. Oberson’s soldiers intermingled with the other civilians. Pages darted left and right to fulfill their tasks before the vendors all left.

Ahead of him was lamplight and spun sugar.

Behind him was the scent of sorrow and the gaping holes leading down to the Vaults.

He frowned at the sight of the gutless buildings. People used to live there, but they’d been driven out.

Driven out by thieves and plague.

Driven out by the wicked presence of the Vaults. They’d always be there. Always lingering below the city.

Testifying that not every Carthyan wanted to move forward to a better kingdom.

They would fester in the ground for eternity like the corpses it hid.

People might be there- might be hiding in the Vaults. Roden told stories about what he’d seen down there, but only after he’d had an unhealthy dose of Libeth’s liquors.

Tobias was ready to return to the castle. He’d done what he needed to do. It was time to snuggle up to his wife and write letters to King Aranscot’s court to find out who’d pulled the arrow from King Aranscot’s face.

It wouldn’t hurt to check behind him. Wouldn’t hurt to locate a person in need.

The tugging of his heart grew too strong, but he ignored it. Tobias took one step forward, and then another. One of Oberson’s men stomped past. He was followed by two others.

One more step, one more step.

A man was selling toys. He held up a winding monkey that played the cymbals.

The music playing monkey almost drowned out the sounds of a scuffle.

Tobias spun on his heels, his bag smacking his leg and the tool inside jostled. The soldiers that walked past were gathered together. They moved together in perfect sync. A girl with scarlet hair struggled to get above them, and yet, she hadn’t screamed for help.

She didn’t need to.

Shouldering his bag, Tobias bolted toward the soldiers, trying to gather the courage to yell.

Somebody in a patched black cloak came rocketing from a second story window, landing on one of the soldiers before Tobias could reach them.

“Stop!” Tobias shouted. “Let her go!”

But not one person listened.

The patched cloak was all too familiar. Tobias skittered to a stop and pushed the hair from his eyes. The Faola had returned despite Renlyn Karise still being under a watchful eye. He kicked at the knees of one soldier, but the other three were focused on their other target.

How could he help? How could he help?!

Tobias called for help, foolishly turning his back to the Faola and Oberson’s soldiers. Was he too far? He swore he saw a page looking at them. Maybe it was too dark. Maybe the fight was encased in too much shadow to be seen by one of the vendors.

Somebody grabbed the back of his shirt.

Somebody dragged him back into the tight grip of a seasoned warrior.

An ice cold blade came too close to his neck. Tobias’s heart began to beat as if it knew it would soon have to stop.

“Let him go,” the Faola barked, his voice carried the harshness of a snakebite.

The harshness of a fatal wound being washed with salt water.

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” The soldier laughed. “You’ve got to choose. King Oberson is no fool. He knows that the girl in the castle is just a cover for you, he knows the man in the dungeons isn’t who he says he is.”

“Nobody is who they say they are anymore,” Tobias choked, the sword at his throat threatening to cut his skin.

The Faola took a step back, moonlight glinting off of the messy stitches in the shoulders of his tunic. “I will not ask again, let him go.”

“You’ll have to choose between the girl and the regent.”

Tobias watched the Faola as he stepped back again. His saber hung at his side, waiting to be used. The man who’d once held Tobias hostage was now the only person who could save him.

“You’re not stupid enough to kill the ambassador’s husband,” the Faola bowed ever so slightly. “Please forgive me, Lord Branch. You’re more capable than you know.”

Picking up on combat signals was something Tobias never mastered. He couldn’t figure it out no matter how many times Roden tried to teach him.

But this time was different.

As the Faola charged towards the soldier, Tobias flung his head backwards as hard as he could. Stars shot across his vision. A sword clattered to the ground. He stumbled, tripping over the fallen soldier. The Faola dragged him out of the way, and kicked the soldier in the head.

“He won’t be waking up for a long time,” the Faola mused. He turned to face Tobias. “Get out of here, you’ll get hurt.”

Tobias rubbed the back of his throbbing head, “Ayvar is going to need help, I can’t-”

“Stay out of this, you’re going to get into trouble and it’s not your concern. If you really want to help, you’ll leave.”

“But-!”

The Faola didn’t stay to listen to Tobias’s argument. He jumped to his feet, the buildings all twirling around him. The spot where he’d thrown his head back into the soldier’s face was still tender.

With a swirl of his patched cloak, the Faola vanished into darkness, braving the impenetrable darkness of the Vaults to drag Ayvar back to the surface.

Tobias wasn’t the type to lead hundreds of men across a muddy field in hopes of winning a battle.

He was the type to fix the first person he saw.

To ask him to stay behind despite knowing somebody was in the hands of death was to ask the sun to cease shining.

He had no lamp and no sword, but he had his bag full of bandages and a knowledge of right and wrong.

Staying behind in this situation was wrong.

Tobias shoved his hair from his eyes, ignoring the metallic ice scraping in his veins, and took a step. He took another step, and another. His boots slapped against the moonlit stones.

Courage raced through his bones faster than his heart beat. No turning back, no turning back.

Abandon all hope, said the door to the vaults. There is no kindness here.

But they were wrong. Tobias nearly stumbled as he stepped into the Vaults, darkness threatening to close his throat. He would bring kindness. He would stop the soldiers from harming the Faola and Ayvar, and bring them all back to the surface.

The steps seemed to grow longer.

So he stepped even farther.

“Let go!” Someone bellowed.

“Catch him!”

“It’s a her, you idiot!”

“Catch her!”

Swords left their scabbards, they hit against each other in the darkness. Tobias paused for only a moment to rub his eyes as they adjusted to the moonless Vaults.

“I got her!” Yelled one man, followed by “She’s gotten away!”

Somebody shouted for Ayvar. The answer came in the form of a loud thud.

Tobias stumbled into a wide room, one of the walls was missing, a low archway letting in minimal light. Five figures fought against each other. Three longswords against a saber and a dagger.

“Hey!” Tobias yelled, freeing his pack from his shoulder.

What in the Devils’ names was he doing down there!?

A soldier charged toward Tobias, and he swung his bag as hard as he could at the soldier’s head.

Though he missed the blow, the bag swung around the soldier’s sword. Tobias recognized the entanglement before his opponent did, and he tugged, tossing both the bag and the sword to a shadowed corner.

He could barely make out the silhouette of the Faola and Ayvar, who were fighting side by side. Other gaping holes punctured the walls. They had to be staircases down, but Tobias didn’t know. He’d never been this far into the Vaults before.

The soldier roared at Tobias, and lunged for his neck.

However, that was the one defense Tobias managed to catch onto after hours of training with Roden. The soldier was attacking from the front, he could see the action unfurl. Tobias ducked down, and stepped to the side. His opponent’s shins smashed into the stairs leading to the surface.

“Take the path!” Ayvar said to the Faola, stepping in front of him. “I’ll follow you!”

The Faola nodded, and dashed into the farthest darkened doorway. Ayvar’s dagger locked against one of the soldiers’-

And the fight almost came to a standstill.

“Take us to her, and we won’t slit your throat,” said the soldier facing Ayvar.

She turned her face to Tobias. “And what about him?”

“He’s seen too much.”

They were going to kill him.

Tobias backed towards the open wall, his hands balled into pathetic little fists.

“No,” Ayvar snapped. “I won’t move.”

“Then I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

The soldier who’d initially fought with Tobias recovered from the blow to his shins. He drew a knife, a short little thing used for cutting meat.

Soon it would be cutting through Tobias.

Swords clashed again. Tobias looked to the two soldiers by Ayvar as they rushed down the steps after the Faola.

She was running towards him.

The third soldier ran past Ayvar, following his fellow men down the stairs. Tobias stared. There was a hand threatening to rip his arm off.

For the second time that night, somebody was dragging him backward.

“No!” He pushed away from Ayvar. “Can’t you see? They did this on purpose! They’re going to kill him!”

“Her,” Ayvar corrected. “Patches has a foot in the grave. We need to-”

“Save our own skins!? Is that what you’re going to say!?”

He was too angry to feel the chilling fingers of fear that surely reached for his heart. His hands shook.

There was something he needed.

Tobias pulled a ring from his fourth finger; his wedding band. “Get to the first Carthyan soldier you can find, and tell him Lord Branch needs help. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

“You can’t just go down there, lordship,” Ayvar grunted.

“Oh, but I can.”

Silently, Ayvar nodded. She took the ring, and darted off into the night.

They were both depending on the Saints to let someone be near enough to help.

The scent of burning metal was what guided Tobias down the right path. He ignored the lines of blood made by victims trying to drag themselves away from their abusers. There was no light to guide him; only a smell that rose above the stench of human suffering.

How much time had it taken him to fumble his way down the stairs?

He had to pat the wall and tap around the floor to find the next step.

His attempted rescue wouldn’t be grand. Wouldn’t be filled with chivalry and a gleaming sword. It would be stumbled and slow.

But a rescue all the same.

Tobias winced as he stepped down the last stair. The room he’d stepped into was much darker than the one he’d left. He shuffled forward, trying to listen to sounds of scuffling.

The toe of his boot hit the hilt of a discarded blade.

A discarded saber.

Dull thudding soon joined the scent of hot metal. The Faola was still fighting. Tobias shuffled forward again, the dull light of a fire catching his eye. Shadows danced around it.

There were no other rooms or halls that Tobias would investigate.

“Let me go!” Bellowed a girls’ voice.

“Hold her still, the mark needs to be-” said a man, one of the soldiers. A dull thud ended his sentence.

It was matched with a sharp slap.

“I said hold her down!”

“Let me go!”

Time. The Faola was running out of time. Tobias was running out of time.

Fabric tore. Somebody’s screaming was muffled. Ringing echoed out of the firelit room.

Just another step, Tobias. Almost there. Almost there.The stone doorway was within his reach. He could race in, grab the Faola, and get out. Sword or no sword. Nobody needed to get hurt. It was his duty to save. He could do it- he could-

The first thing he focused on was the circle of stones around his feet, not the muffled shriek and sudden change in smells.

The soldiers inside the room rushed out, one of them holding a cooled branding iron.

Tobias didn’t bother to hold his hands above his head, he knew what was coming.

A blade met the swinging iron.

Alistair Derforgall grabbed the iron, and threw it at the  soldier on his right. Tobias turned his head, looking behind him to see Jolly brandishing his lute, Ayvar, and surprisingly, Renlyn Karise.

“You’re not out of the woods yet!” Renlyn barked, dragging Tobias into the firelit room with her.

Jolly’s lute crashed through the head of one of the soldiers, sending him down to the ground.

Tobias would rather watch the fight in the hall rather than look at the vomit covered Faola in the room. Burnt flesh seared his nose. He was almost ready to vomit himself. A small fire burned in the room, hot enough to heat a sword.

“Saints, neither of you were supposed to get into trouble,” Renlyn growled. She rushed to the Faola’s side, and peeled off the scarf covering her mouth. “Tobias, turn around.”

“Let me help, I can-!” He tried, but Renlyn’s emotionless voice reared up for the first time since he met her.

“By the Saints Lord Branch, you will look away! You can’t talk about what you can’t see!”

Mireldis Thay. He was standing beside Mireldis Thay. She was there at his feet, covered in her own vomit and nursing a branded hand.

All it would take was one look and the entire ordeal would be over.

But he couldn’t.

He’d been told not to.

It was his fault that Mireldis was lying there. He’d let this moment happen by stopping Roden from executing her on that summer afternoon so many eons ago.

None of this would’ve happened if he’d forgotten his compassion for one moment.

So he looked away.

Jolly slipped into the room, followed by Alistair. His face fell. “What do we do?”

“Describe the wound,” Tobias said, his eyes glued to the wall. “Chances are that she’ll need to be taken somewhere cleaner to keep the wound from getting infected.”

“They branded her. The flesh has bubbled and she threw up,” Renlyn explained.

“Just cut- just cut the hand off,” begged Mireldis Thay. Her voice, so strained and pitiable, was too familiar. “It’s too hard. It hurts.”

He’d spoken to her before.

Renlyn coughed, “Come hold her, Jolly, she’ll respond to you.”

Tobias clamped his hands over his eyes. “The wound needs to be cooled, apply a lavender compress once you’ve done that.”

“We’ll have to smuggle her into the castle, nobody would have that this late at night,” Jolly said. “Alistair, how do you feel about sneaking around?”

“Call it by another name, something a little more honest,” said Alistair. He was standing near Tobias, judging by the volume of his voice. “I will not lie.”

Mireldis groaned, earning a tiny hush from Jolly. “We, ah, we’re taking a cloak up to Renlyn’s rooms to compare certain soaps.”

“Exactly,” Renlyn said. “We’ll compare a hair soap against a skin soap. Jolly, you lead, that way Tobias can look.”

“Don’t use this as an excuse to leave me behind,” Tobias muttered as somebody shuffled past him.

“You can open your eyes,” Renlyn set a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t ask me to do that again. I could help-”

“And then you would have to turn your patient in for crimes against the crown. It’s better this way.”

A blue hair ribbon lingered on the ground.

A shadow crossed Renlyn’s face as she began walking forward. Her brows knit together, and for a moment, Tobias swore her bottom lip began to tremble.

However, Renlyn forced a frown on her face, “I’ll explain my relation to Thay if you want.”

“I don’t want all of it,” Tobias shook his head, bile rising in his throat. “Did you know her before coming to Drylliad?”

“We met on the night I came to serve her Majesty. Not before then.”

“Has she told you why she wants Feall dead?”

“Not exactly, but our mutual friend isn’t as clean as he claims. Tonight is an example of that. Ayvar was released as a sacrificial lamb, if Alistair hadn’t agreed to let me walk the streets tonight under his supervision, you three would be dead. You would’ve been left as rat food.”

Tobias rubbed his temples. He didn’t want to think about ‘what ifs’ any longer.

They were unavoidable.

“I’ll help you smuggle Mireldis to safety,” Tobias stood up, the firelight that heated Mireldis’s branding iron throwing his shadow into the hall. “A friend of yours is a friend of mine, Renlyn, and I won’t send a friend to the executioner’s block. But she can’t stay in Drylliad. Not while she’s trying to kill Feall, regardless of his past sins.”

“And if he’s trying to kill her too?” Renlyn didn’t look back as she climbed up the bloodied stairs. “I won’t let you keep a secret from your friends Tobias, they’re too important to you.”

“We need somebody to tell the truth.”

“No, it’s time to let Mireldis go. I’ll have her taken-”

“Don’t tell me where, I won’t keep it secret.”

“You’re a good man, Lord Branch.”

The moonlight stung his eyes once he and Renlyn finally left the vaults. Jolly nodded at Alistair, and hugged Mireldis even tighter to his chest.

She looked small.

Nothing like the furious bandit willing to throw a blow at the king in order to fulfill her lust for revenge.

He couldn’t think of any words to say as he trudged to the castle, Renlyn, Alistair, and Jolly all slightly ahead of him.

Thoughts filled his head, swimming through everything he knew. He’d chosen to let Mireldis Thay go. He was smuggling her into the castle.

All because he couldn’t bear the thought of a young woman succumbing to a treatable wound.

Tobias made a choice long ago. He’d dug his own grave, and now he was settling into the coffin that would soon fill it.

[blueberryraindrops]

Blueberry’s Ultimate T-Rated TUA Masterlist

KEY

Fics are organised alphabetically (articles e.g. ‘the’ will not count)

Download links are EPUB files only

authors can feel free to send me a msg if they want their fics’ download link taken down

Regular updates can be expected as long as I remain in the fandom

Last Update: 14/10/2020

Other Masterlists: All Fics; G-Rated; M-Rated; E-Rated

FANFICTION

☁︎ another cog in the murder machine by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }

→ Download Here

Five finally gets the breakdown he deserves

☁︎ Blood like Lemonade by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }

→ Download Here

Hunting high and low to seek revenge, Brand new moral code, got made reluctant renegade. Leaving empty souls when he avenged, Evil spirits flowed he drank the blood like lemonade.

Five's sordid past comes to light in, quite possibly, the most unpleasant way

☁︎ Details [Series] by VeteranKlaus { T }

→ Download Here

The last time Klaus saw his siblings was at Allison and Patrick's wedding. A lot had changed since then; including the not-so-accidental, irreversible loss of his sight.

There's no time to tell them that, though. Not with the return of their long-presumed-dead brother and the impending apocalypse. Plus, it doesn't matter. He's got Ben as a good seeing-eye ghost.

☁︎ do androids dream of electric sheep? by the_crownless_queen { T }

→ Download Here

Number Four is crying, and Grace was made to care for those children.

In which Grace was created to protect the children of the Academy. Even, as it turns out, from their father.

☁︎ don't waste your time (or time will waste you) by rosewitchx { T }

→ Download Here

He was an old man. He is sixteen. Ben dies next week. How does he know that? “I think I broke it,” Five stutters, and for the first time in her short life Vanya sees absolute terror in his eyes.

Or, Five travels back again. Something goes wrong.

☁︎ Fighting (Pre)Determinism by chibi_tantei { T / WIP }

→ Download Here

They go back in time, determined to rewrite their own family history. Only problem is, only one of them looks the proper age to get near their younger selves.

Or, six months after Five stormed out, determined to time travel, he returns home. His siblings are happy to have him back, but he's acting differently...

(Or, Five goes undercover as himself. Twice the siblings should make saving the world easier, right? Yet somehow, he's only now realizing how many issues his family has to fix.)

☁︎ Five and Dave's Life Changing (Life Saving) Field Trip by neuronary { T }

→ Download Here

The little boy, who Dave could now see was not as little as he’d first thought, shoved a tin mug at him. “Drink this.”

Dave drank. It tasted sickly sweet and slightly citrus-y. “Who are you?”

“Five.” The boy’s scowl deepened at Dave’s confusion. “Klaus’ brother.”

Or, Five saves Dave's life to stop Klaus from moping. From Dave's perspective, a very grouchy, sleep-deprived twelve-year-old kidnaps him and he finds it much more entertaining than he should.

☁︎ haven't you heard of meditation? by rosesareredvioletsareblue { T }

→ Download Here

"Klaus, you have a piece of glass sticking out of your neck!"

Klaus felt for the glass, wincing as he found it.

"Oh yeah. Fun." It took all of Five's willpower not to throttle him.

☁︎ Hidden Variables Theory, The by siriuspiggyback { T }

→ Download Here

Something has disturbed the space-time continuum, and it's up to Five to figure out what it is.

With a bit of luck, and a lot of alcohol, he might even manage to do it before he snaps and murders his siblings.

☁︎ haven't you heard of meditation? by rosesareredvioletsareblue { T }

→ Download Here

"Klaus, you have a piece of glass sticking out of your neck!"

Klaus felt for the glass, wincing as he found it.

"Oh yeah. Fun." It took all of Five's willpower not to throttle him.

☁︎ Hidden Variables Theory, The by siriuspiggyback { T }

→ Download Here

Something has disturbed the space-time continuum, and it's up to Five to figure out what it is.

With a bit of luck, and a lot of alcohol, he might even manage to do it before he snaps and murders his siblings.

☁︎ i'm gonna be here til i'm nothing (but bones in the ground) by iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid { T }

→ Download Here

Someone definitely just punched him in the chest, right? That’s the reason for that feeling? Or that last batch of pills had something seriously off-label mixed into them. Because there’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He squeezes his eyes shut until dots burst behind his eyelids, but when he opens them, the hallucination doesn’t go away.

“… Five?”

☁︎ if the sky comes falling down by synchronicities { T }

→ Download Here

The equations are still wrong.

In 2002, Number Seven wonders why her siblings are acting odd.

(Or, the post-finale “Vanya doesn’t remember the time travel” fic)

☁︎ If You're Different And You Know It (you're not alone) by M3zzaTh3M3z { T }

→ Download Here

Five was different. He’d always known. Different from most people, what with his freakish birth, powers and unconventional upbringing, all that old news. And different from his siblings. He was smarter. His powers were stronger. And he’d never picked a name. All that was old news too. But there was something else that separated him from the rest, something he didn’t know how to put a finger on, how to categorize, analyse, understand. Five didn’t like not understanding. It was probably Klaus that made him first notice something was off.

☁︎ Is the sadness everlasting? (love, I think it is) by ArmedWithMyComputer { T }

→ Download Here

A look into what Klaus' newly discovered ability could mean for the siblings.

Diego could feel his whole body trembling as he faced the ghosts, only able to take shallow breaths as he struggled to process the true horror of what he was seeing.

And then they started howling.

The sound pierced though his stupor and forced him to his knees instantly. It was like nothing Diego had ever experienced before, and he was consumed with the intensity and overwhelmed by a deep chilling fear. It felt as though his mind had been taken over and all he could hear was the shrieks of grief, more intense than any emotion he had ever felt.

☁︎ It Does(n't) Matter by MYSTERYstew { T }

→ Download Here

It’s a familiar feeling, being lifted up by Luther and tossed around like he weighs nothing (to Luther he certainly does), it was a favorite move of Luther’s as a child. Nostalgia is not what Five feels, he’s too busy flailing as Luther throws him over the railing.

or, Five fails a jump

☁︎ Just One Minute by willowhisperer { T }

→ Download Here

Five holds up his end of the deal, soaked in blood. The Handler decides to toy with him a little while longer.

Maybe it's revenge, maybe she's riding the high of her shiny new position as head of the Commission.

Really, she just wants to win, once and for all.

☁︎ Lessons 'verse [Series] by Soulykins { T }

→ Download Here

Five was maybe four years old when he figured out that he was pretty much ride or die for his siblings. He was also four when he figured out that in the Umbrella Academy, you could never let Reginald Hargreeves figure out what you loved lest he use it against you. There was safety in aloof indifference, more than could be found anywhere else under their roof.

Five times Five Hargreeves protected his siblings the best ways he could, and the one time he failed.

☁︎ Lethe by shoelaces { T / WIP }

→ Download Here

Le·the | A river in Hades whose waters cause drinkers to forget their past.

Or: Five loses his memories instead of Vanya, and it falls to his siblings to raise a superpowered teenager in the 1960s, all whilst preserving their own new lives and preventing yet another apocalypse.

☁︎ Like an abyss by fridayyy { T }

→ Download Here

For the second time, Five has to (gets to?) grow up.

☁︎ Like Oxygen by sevansa { T }

→ Download Here

Klaus's powers may be a bit more extensive than just seeing the dead, he's not sure what to do about that.

OR

The one where Klaus's power is not ghosts, but souls and that makes a hell of a difference.

☁︎ Mellow Rays of a Departing Sun [Series] by Emotionally_Detached (Yeah_Toast) { T }

→ Download Here

He makes it. He time travels and makes it through another apocalypse. He makes it, but his siblings don't.

His siblings don't make it, except he's in his own childhood and they're still here, alive and thirteen and he can fix things.

He will fix things

☁︎ most dangerous place in the world, the [Series] by Princess_Sarcastia { T }

→ Download Here

"Grace is the third model in a series created by and for Sir Reginald.  She has access to the knowledge obtained by her predecessors in their time assisting Sir Reginald in his many endeavors.

All three of them were primarily designed as protectors.  Do no harm, just as Mr. Asimov said!

But Grace is slightly different."

[priority one: protect the children]

☁︎ New Life, A by BirdInTheCave { T }

→ Download Here

Allison had convinced Ray to come back to 2019 with her and her family and after a month of being cooped up in the house with the other Hargreeves plus their own unconventional guests, Ray suggests they spend some time alone. He's still struggling to fully comprehend the new world he's stepped into but he's determined that with Allison at his side he can get used to anything. Allison can't find a reason to say no. She should have said no.

Luckily for her, Five will always be there for his family, now that he's back.

☁︎ Not with me by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) { T }

→ Download Here

They never asked if any of that blood was his. Five is bleeding, and he is also giving up.

AU to 2X07, with hurt Five because after all that boy has been through...

☁︎ Number Five | And The Things that Make Him Tick [Series] by Kraeyola { T }

→ Download Here

It's only been two weeks for him.

AKA: Five succumbs to two weeks worth of badly cared for (physical and emotional) injuries, and ends up extremely feverish.

☁︎ On My Terms by CivilBores { T }

→ Download Here

“I did what you asked,” he tells her. “Now, the briefcase.”

Her eyebrows raise in mock-surprise, red lips curling up her face in a sadistic smile.

“You didn’t think that was all, did you?” she asks.

AU: The Handler gives Five a slightly different deal.

☁︎ Partners, Parents, or None of the Above by DarkFairytale { T }

→ Download Here

Kenny's mom assuming that Diego and Klaus were A) a couple and B) Number Five’s parents was both bemusing and amusing at the time. But that was because it was the only time it had ever happened. Now though? Now they just can't understand why these misunderstandings keep happening.

☁︎ rude awakening by Soulykins { T / WIP }

→ Download Here

When Five wakes up, he just knows someone is in the room with him. Of course, even he didn't except to come face to face with the Handler who he'd thought to be very very dead. And he especially didn't expect her to break into his room and watch him sleep while waiting for him to wake up.

It's very fortunate that Diego and Klaus show up to wake him up and take offense to some random lady in the same room as their very uncomfortable, very thirteen-year-old brother.

☁︎ Screaming in the Face of Communication by papayaromantic { T }

→ Download Here

It's not that he doesn't want to pay attention to Five, just that he seriously can't hear what the boy is saying past the wailing of the torn apart woman in front of him.

☁︎ shaking like I shook before by Anonymous { T }

→ Download Here

Five tries to deal with it alone, until he learns that he doesn’t have to.

☁︎ skirts and sweaters by slightlyworriedhuman { T }

→ Download Here

"I don't want to be a ‘cute little schoolboy’ anymore, alright?” Five snapped. For some reason, the thought of himself as a schoolboy was enough to make his skin prickle. Was it the implication that he was younger than the rest of them, less mature despite his life?

...Yeah, it was definitely that. Absolutely.Five wants a change in wardrobe. His siblings are more than happy to help.

☁︎ small changes by calypso42 { T }

→ Download Here

“I need to ask you something.” He set down the large stack of books he was carrying beside him. Klaus glanced at a few of the titles - Consciousness in the Brain - Memory & the Role of the Hippocampus - Soul vs. Matter: A Comprehensive Look at the Origins of Sentience - and grimaced.

“Are you… having an existential crisis, or something? Because I am possibly the worst person you could go to for that.”

...

When Five goes to Klaus to ask him something about his powers, Klaus doesn’t think much of it. At least, until he realizes that what he thought was simple curiosity was actually deeper than that, leading to a revelation about Five himself.

☁︎ take shelter by aloneintherain { T }

→ Download Here

AU where the apocalypse doesn’t follow the Hargreeves to the 1960s. Without the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over their heads, the siblings can take the time to be a family again.

Until they find out that the Handler has been blackmailing Five.

☁︎ this is a bad town (for such a pretty face) by luciimariiellii { T }

→ Download Here

Five’s gone. (How the Hargreeves cope, and how they reunite.)

☁︎ to unexplain the unforgivable by darkviverna { T }

→ Download Here

Ability to see the dead and having a temporal assassin for a brother don’t mix well.

☁︎ Too Much Too Little by 1spideyson { T }

→ Download Here

Five says nothing on the ride back, just gently presses the tips of thin fingers to his eyes and temples like his head is a new instrument he’s learning to play. Like he’s searching for the right notes.

Diego tries not to cast too many worried glances the boy’s way, but when Five crawls into Diego’s bed, shaking and grey, he can’t stop himself from speaking up.

A look at Five and Diego's relationship through a h/c lens.

☁︎ Too Old To Be So Young by KaseyBeth { T }

→ Download Here

Five winced loudly, pushing his head off the floor to see bright red smeared across his chest and stomach; crimson soaked into his shorts, running down his leg. His head fell back against the ground dizzyingly, and he groaned as someone touched the wound, biting his bottom lip as he tried to stay conscious. The end of life, of everything, was in three days; they didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have time for this. A bullet wound, a stupid bullet wound and all that stupid concern and worry, was just going to slow them down. There wasn’t time for mistakes, or hiccups, or rest and recovery. It was the end of the fucking world.

☁︎ traumaversary by WeWalkADifferentPath { T }

→ Download Here

It follows him like an unscratched itch. Under his skin, over his body, around his energy, like a mosquito that won’t leave him the fuck alone.

April 1st. April 1st. April 1st.

(A character study of Five, with some inevitable family feels, in honour of March 24th).

☁︎ Unexpected Future, An by aseies { T / WIP }

→ Download Here

“I’m sure you’re looking forward to finding a way back to your own time as soon as possible,” Nedzu said. “I want you to know that U.A. will do everything in its power to help you achieve that goal. Time travel is a complicated equation to solve, but I’m sure if we put our heads together we’ll come up with something!”

Five raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’re just going to do that out of the goodness of your heart? I’m not even old enough for high school yet.”

“Well, we’re all heroes for a reason, no? What good are we if we can’t help a single child in need?” Nedzu pointed out with a pleasantly neutral smile as he sipped his tea.

OR: Instead of time traveling into the apocalypse, thirteen-year-old Five Hargreeves teleports in the middle of the USJ fight.

He gets a couple of new dads out of it.

☁︎ walls kept tumbling down, the by Ingu { T }

→ Download Here

It started small.

There was a nagging ache in his chest, phantom pain from where the bullets had pierced his flesh, in the overwritten timeline that never will be.

(the one where rewinding time doesn't miraculously resolve mortal gunshot wounds)

☁︎ We All Deserve Second Chances (but don't repeat your mistakes) by justarandomword, wolvesandnovas { T }

→ Download Here

Time-travelling gave Ben a second chance at life. He's not about to let Reginald Hargreeves ruin that for him and Klaus.

(a.k.a. Reginald takes Klaus' dog tags and the aftermath.)

☁︎ we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [Series] by noodlerdoodler { T / Partially WIP }

→ Download Here

Five couldn’t move, standing by and watching complacently, as his younger brother grabbed him roughly by the front of his sweater. It was like he was watching a play he wasn't apart of, yet that was definitely his small body being tossed over the balcony. No doubt, Luther thought that he would just jump out of the way. He'd always jumped out of the way, sometimes without even meaning to, but now visions of a world on fire flashed through his head as his body plummeted towards the ground. Seemingly, he was tumbling through the air in slow motion and absentmindedly, Five wondered if this was his life flashing before his eyes. All he saw was the desolate world he’d left behind weeks ago.

When Five hit the ground, it was with a sickening cracking noise.

“Oh my god, Luther, what have you done?”

☁︎ with two arms by karcheri { T }

→ Download Here

What it comes down to, really, is that Five had been too eager for results. Once it became clear to him that there was a connection between his powers and his energy level the obvious course of action, as he saw it, was to test this information. The hypothesis was this: higher energy levels = stronger powers and the easiest way to get more energy is to eat more. Pretty simple stuff. Too simple.

or Five times that Five starves himself and one time that he gets called out on it.

☁︎ you from yesterday by questors (sieges) { T }

→ Download Here

The difference between who his siblings once were and who they are now.

[maythewidowtakeusall]

Partners in Crime (Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader)

Wordcount: 1524

Warnings: death, funeral

Summary: A boring night of mission report writing with your girlfriend Natasha and your friend Clint takes an unexpected turn.

A/N: Inspired by Max Richter’s On The Nature of Daylight, my weird mood after watching the Arrival and my constant insatiable hunger for angst. To amp up the hurt, I highly recommend listening to the song while reading.

"This job will be the death of me one day."

Natasha hums and holds up a finger, chewing on the end of her pen. Clint just grunts, not even bothering to answer you as he stuffs another slice of pizza in his mouth. You crinkle your nose - you're a messy eater, but that boy can be downright nasty. Laying your head on your forearms and resting your eyes for a moment, you sigh. Being a SHIELD agent is all fun and games for an adrenaline junkie like you and your esteemed colleagues, but eventually, when the fieldwork runs out and the paperwork catches up with you (along with threatening messages from Director Fury to deliver your reports on time), you don't feel like it's all that amusing anymore. Being stuck at HQ on a Saturday night at 11 pm isn't your idea of fun. You ignore your badly typed up report in front of you as you gaze at your girlfriend expectantly, mouthing "entertain me" when she finally looks up. She rolls her eyes but smiles, her computer screen lighting up her face, lending her an almost ethereal glow. Natasha has always been an otherworldly phenomenon for you and probably always will be.

"Dying is pretty much part of the equation here," Natasha finally acknowledges you, leaning back in her chair. "Hate to break it to you, but we're constantly assigned the most dangerous missions."

"I meant the paperwork, not the missions," you grin, your face and hair a tired mess that is still the most beautiful thing in the world for Nat. She masks her admiration pretty well though, just so you don't know the true magnitude of your effect on her. She's not sure you're ready for that. Hell, she's not even sure she herself is.

"Well, look at you being all optimistic," Clint speaks up sarcastically with a mouthful of food. "Thinking you'd die of typing up a report instead of participating in a death-defying mission."

"I'm not!" you laugh. "Really, it's not like I am already planning my retirement or something."

"Yeah? 'Cause I am," Barton smiles, his eyes looking but not really seeing. He's seeing Laura and the kids and the house, and he sees himself teaching his children how to shoot straight with a bow and arrow and how to start a fire from scratch, and he's already saving up for their college tuitions. You look at Natasha, who just shrugs with a smile. "Never really had the chance to think about living to a ripe old age before, but better late than never."

"Wait, hold on - are you guys serious? You're really thinking about the future so... positively?"

"It's called hope, baby," Natasha teases you. You click your tongue in mild frustration. You won't be lectured about hope for the future by these two dramatic morons who would sacrifice their lives at a moment's notice if they thought that was the best course of action.

"Well, since you're both so awfully sure about surviving, I guess we need to talk about my funeral," you end up laughing, sleep deprivation soaking into your slurred words. Clint snorts. Nat furrows her brows in confusion. "No dress code. Have a good time. And yes, by that I mean throw a huge party in a fancy club. Oh, and blast Highway to Hell on maximum volume during the ceremony."

Facing your own mortality almost every day is a burden that cannot be carried without the soothing touch of dark humor to ease the constantly impending doom looming above your head. Clint is often game in jokes and ideas such as this, but it comes as a surprise when Natasha breaks into a tired grin too. "I'll start taking notes. Anything else you want? From us, maybe? Since we'll obviously outlive you by far."

"Wait, I have an idea!" Clint straightens his back, revitalized by this quality distraction from his half-assed mission report. "I'll come in full gear, arrows and bow and all, okay? So it's raining, right? Hair all soaked, I have this doom and gloom expression plastered on my face, and I just go up to your coffin, lay a hand on it and whisper some shit like, 'I'm too late... I was supposed to be the one to take you out.'"

"You gotta do your raspy, deep voice though," Nat laughs.

"Wait, are you saying my voice isn't deep and manly enough for you?"

"I'm sold," you say, electing to ignore Clint's last remark of faux outrage. "That leaves you, baby. I want you to wear something insanely foxy and elegant."

"And a pair of sunglasses, even if it's not even sunny!" Barton adds enthusiastically.

"Hey, I thought there was no dress code!" Natasha shakes her head, red curls bouncing around her face in protest.

"My funeral, my rules. Besides, you'll be playing the mourning trophy wife who's recently been widowed and has inherited a fortune. You have to look good."

"You have to marry me first to make me a widow." Her smile is seductive and loving and challenging. Your stomach flips from your sudden surge of anxiety and enthusiasm. Hopefully, someday, you want to say, but you glance at Clint and don't say anything. You're tired of him calling you cheesy and mushy all the time.

"And (Y/n) has a lot of paperwork to do yet to earn that fortune she keeps talking about!"

"You know what, Barton? Fuck you."

You haven't laughed this much in a long time. You look around the room with a wide smile on your face, trying to memorize these cherished little details that make the whole world bearable for you: the green flash of Natasha's cat eyes, the crinkle in the corners of Clint's eyes when he laughs, their playful banters, how Nat swats Clint's arm playfully when he says something stupid, flashing her pearly whites in an open-mouthed laugh. You're so overwhelmed with love for Natasha, the Bonnie to your Clyde, the Thelma to your Louise. You don't know if you could ever thank Clint for having your back no matter what. You want this moment to last forever, and in a way, it does. You've burnt it into your memory, imprinted into your heart even; so much in fact that when you took your last breath, you were looking at a terrified Steve Rogers trying to stop your burgundy blood from spilling out, but that wasn't what you were seeing. You saw your partners in crime, laughing over open pizza boxes and half-written mission reports on a cold December night at the SHIELD headquarters two years ago. You saw Natasha, her reflection dancing on the huge window behind her, as the lights of New York and the star-studded sky crowned her crimson hair. Even then, her eyes were the brightest things you'd ever seen. They will always be the brightest for you. She will always be.

Life goes on without you, even though they don't want it to. They have a promise to keep though, and they adhere to it, down to the last detail, because when they do, they feel like you're still alive. Fury is wearing a knitted sweater the color of orange. "For hope," he says, tugging on his sleeves nervously. Laura is there too, along with all those you had loved and who loved you. Clint wears his full gear, just like he said he would, and he does go up to your coffin, placing a hand over the smooth but cold wood. It's raining, and he's not sure whether the water drops on the polished oak are raindrops or his own tears.

"I'm too late... I'm too late..." he whispers, voice barely audible from the panic of your death dawning on him. "I was supposed to be the one to... I was supposed to be the one to save you."

Natasha never thought she'd ever cry over an ACDC song, especially not Highway to Hell, but today is a first for her from many perspectives. Her mascara is running down her cheeks in thick black lines, but she keeps herself steady because she made a promise to you, and so she obediently keeps pushing her big black sunglasses up that stubbornly slide down her nose every now and then. She is divine, even though she was thoroughly soaked before Steve came to stand with her, sharing his umbrella with her. Your favorite black dress of hers, paired with a black fur coat, delicate black gloves and a pair of high heels. Natasha knows that if this doesn't wake you up, then nothing will.

She is a widow now, truly. Her codename meant little to her before, but now she is merging with it fully. And the fortune you left her? Well, it may not be tangible, like money, or the little shared apartment of yours, or the wedding band the mortician slid off your finger and gave to Natasha - no, it's the memories. It's the nights spent together, the secrets whispered in the dark, the sunsets watched together, the dinners cooked in silent harmony, the love that was made in the symphony of your bodies.

Natasha doesn't know why, but she thinks back to that cold, cold Saturday night from two years ago. And she smiles through her tears.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Kashyyyk - Chapter 74

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 73. Chapter 75.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

————–

I think I see something else glowing. Not the moss. And it feels familiar. The vision, maybe? The Star Map? Jolee goes one way. I break away towards the glow. And it doesn’t take Jolee very long to find out. “I thought you wanted to find Freyyr,” he says, “We’re not that far.”

“If this is the Star Map, I don’t want to lose it.” Bastila follows me first, and Canderous with her because her ankle still hurts. Jolee huffs, before shaking his head and joining us.

As I get closer, the glow takes on a humanoid shape, before I finally see it all the way. It’s an alien, but not a race I’ve ever seen before. The eyes are separated, and the head rises up into a big hump. Kind of like a shark, but the eyes jut out on stalks like snails. The skin looks very reptilian. There are three fingers on both hands, and three toes on both feet. Each toe ends with a massive claw. It’s quite imposing, just a hologram standing in the middle of the woods. I stand in front of it, and it speaks in Basic. “Life forms detected. Determining parameters. Initiating neural recognition.”

“Obstinate machine,” Jolee scoffs, “I've no doubt it holds what you seek, but good luck getting it operational.”

The hologram processes for a moment. “Primary neural recognition complete. Preliminary match found.”

Jolee sputters. “Match found?” he repeats in disbelief, “What the…? It always muttered something about ‘rejected patterns’ for me.”

“Begin socialized interface,” the hologram says, “Awaiting instruction. Greetings. This terminal has not been accessed for quite some time.”

“Why are you acknowledging me? Why am I a match?” I ask.

“Error.” Damn, did I break it? “Subject displays unfamiliarity to environment. Behavioral reconfiguration will be needed before access. I am sorry, I did not mean to confuse you. I will answer questions to the best of my programming limitations.”

“Behavioral reconfiguration? What does that mean?”

“I have been programmed with a very limited field of knowledge, and I must restrict access to only those that fit my allowed pattern.”

“Which isn’t me.”

“I can't say.” Reluctance in a computer, that’s a new one. “I will try to bring forward the behavior that you need to proceed, as outlined by my programming.”

“That’s helpful,” I say, “Why am I allowed access? Why not Jolee?”

“I can't say.” Again? “Preliminary matching allows for you to be coached.”

I shake my head and take a look at the machinery. “This isn’t Czerka tech,” I say, “Or Aratech, Republic, there’s a little Sith in there, but it’s… different. Like I can see some common elements to Sith, but it’s not completely Sith. Who installed this installation?”

“Error. Corruption.” That’s not a problem I can fix. “Extrapolating.” Good. “This utility was built to monitor planet-wide agricultural reformation. It has since malfunctioned. It can be theorized that the super-growth of Kashyyyk's forests is a direct result.”

“Well, that is surprising,” Jolee says, although I get the feeling he’s heard this before - why else would he have said the trees are strangers? “I doubt any Wookiee would support such a claim. The forest is millenia old.” What I wouldn’t give to count the rings on a wroshyr tree.

“Malfunction occurred 241 years after last builder communication,” the hologram continues, “Last builder communication... 29,642 years before current Republic standard.”

“Then it predates the Republic just like the ruins on Dantooine,” Bastila says while Canderous tends to her ankle.

“Error,” the hologram says, “Information regarding the builders of this installation has been corrupted. No evidence of such a civilization exists in the galactic record.”

“I can’t believe this planet would need agricultural reformation,” I say, “given all the life that exists here.”

“Agricultural record indicates this planet was incapable of sustaining sufficient levels of production,” the hologram explains, “Error. Specific conditions corrupted. It can be theorized that produce was being exported to support a larger demand.”

I take another look at the machinery. The computer core is one type of technology, the holo-interface is another. Built by a different person, different background. Nobody I’ve ever worked with, but they’ve still left a signature. And something looking like sand shields but smaller, maybe for pollen. Systech again? But HK mentioned something about not being produced by Systech. Weird - who else has been making environmental protection like this? “Who installed this holo-interface?”

“This interface was installed to better access the ancient data stored within the pre-existing system. The exact date is unavailable. Programming keys indicate no earlier than five years before current Republic standard.” So someone still alive, probably, is making tech like this. That’s someone I’d like to meet.

“Hmm,” Jolee says, “five years ago? I didn’t notice it. This must have been installed in the strictest secrecy. It couldn’t have been Czerka.”

“No, it doesn’t use Czerka standard parts.” I’d know. Besides, if Czerka installed it, it wouldn’t still be working. Czerka tech is crap.

“No other information on time of installation or identity of user available. Likelihood of removal by user, 100%.”

“Who last accessed?”

“Sorting by identity. Three attempts by the Wookiee Freyyr, all denied. 152 attempts by human Jolee Bindo, all denied.”

He gets a bit red and chuckles. “Call me stubborn, I guess,” he says, “There wasn’t much else to do around here.”

“Error. List of access attempts prior to these is corrupted. Likelihood of removal by user, 100%.”

Never imagined Revan to be the paranoid sort. Because, I mean, it has to be Revan. The timing works out too well for that to be a coincidence. Maybe he didn’t build this hologram, but he definitely had to access it, the Star Map is right over there. Pretty impressive that he figured out the tech well enough to wipe some of the memory. It really is an unorthodox set-up. Personally, I live for unorthodox - doesn’t matter if it looks like shit if it works. “I’m looking for a Star Map,” I say. Let’s get this over with.

“Accessing. Yes, I have found a Star Map in original system memory. Access is restricted.”

“Well, I want access,” I say, “What do I have to do to get it?”

“Your request requires additional security access,” the hologram states, “You must be made to match the parameters I have been supplied.”

“How can I match them when I don’t know what they are?”

“There are measures available.” Well, that’s handy. “Personality profiling will verify the basic structure of your conscious mind. With that, I will determine whether you are ready to receive the Star Map, or can be made ready.”

“Made ready? What does that mean?”

“Information unavailable.” Lovely, just great. “If you have further questions, ask them now. Access will terminate with success or failure of evaluation.”

No questions from me. “Then let’s begin evaluation.”

“Evaluation commencing. Results will be compared against the pattern in memory. Just act like you should.” Is it weird that I’m a little nervous?

“You travel with a Wookiee and have encountered complications. Hypothetical: you and this Zaalbar are captured and separated. If you both remain silent, one year in prison for each of you. However, call Zaalbar a traitor, and he will serve five years, while you serve none. He is offered the same deal, but if you both accuse the other, you both serve 2 years. What do you do? What do you trust him to do?”

Don’t know how he knows about Zaalbar, maybe from Freyyr, but the situation still stands. “I trust Zaalbar,” I say, “I would say nothing, and neither would he.”

“Are you sure?” the hologram asks, “If you turn, you risk two years, or none at all. If you rely on loyalty, you risk one year or *five.* Your loyalty is dangerous. Your companion could take the opportunity to benefit by turning on you. Zaalbar's family is mired in treachery. What loyalty do they know? Your answer is incorrect.”

“I thought this was an evaluation, not a quiz,” I say, “How can my answer be wrong?”

“I must match your behavior to the pattern in memory. You must answer truthfully, knowing the consequences.”

I sigh. “Continue the evaluation, then.”

“The previous incorrect response will be discounted. Future incorrect responses will result in rejection.

“Hypothetical: you are at war. Deciphering an intercepted code, you learn two things about your enemy. A single spot in their defense will be at its weakest in ten days, and they will attack one of your cities in five days. What do you do with this information? What is the most efficient course of action?”

“Efficient?” I repeat, “Well, the most efficient thing to do is to prepare my forces to attack in ten days, leave the city alone.”

“Very good,” the hologram says, “If you had moved to evacuate the city, you would have alerted the enemy to their lost codes. Ultimate victory required the deaths of the people in that city. You wisely ignored sentiment in your decision.”

“That’s just one victory,” I say, “Stopping the war saves more lives in the long run. That’s more efficient, that’s what you asked.”

“You achieved the proper result with logic that does not match the pattern in memory.” I think I just confused the hologram. “I shall adjust my evaluation.

“Hypothetical: remove the ongoing war from the previous example. Consider enemy states to be weak and remote. With no external threat, your empire stagnates. Your people become complacent and begin to question you. Same scenario as before; you discover an impending attack, but also a weakness that will come after. How do you react?”

“As a leader,” I say, no question, in my mind, “it’s my job to keep my people safe. I stop the attack.”

“But if nothing happens, your people will have no need of you. No, they don't see a threat. You have coddled them. Your empire will be brought down by introspection. You have failed to match the pattern in memory. Access denied. This system will purge the subject as false. Defense mode initiated.”

I hear a thrumming from where we came in. Two droids. Energy shields. They look like the ones from Dantooine. With those shields up, lightsabers won’t do much good. But if I can concentrate for a moment, reach out, I can shut the shields down. Just… give me a… got it! With the shields down, they’re far more susceptible to lightsabers and Canderous’s blaster. He chucks an ion grenade between the two droids and it explodes in just the right place to knock out the flame thrower on the one and the carbonite projector on the other. “Concentrate on the leg joints!” Bastila says, “That’s the weak spot.” Usually is. I focus my efforts there. With the special weapons taken out blaster fire is my only concern. I spin both my lightsabers and take off a front leg on each droid. Still standing. I take off the back legs. They fall over, unbalanced. Still shooting, futilely. The mechanisms are exposed on the belly of the droids, there’s far less armor there than on the top side of the droid. I deactivate both lightsabers and hop over one droid. Activate the lightsaber right in the middle, blowing out its primary circuits, and then I do the same thing to the other droid. Now that that’s over with, I can get back to thinking of another way to access the Star Map.

“Neural scan complete,” the hologram says. I’m surprised it hasn’t deactivated itself yet. “Analyzing... Well, it would appear initial assumptions about you were incorrect. Secondary scans during battle have revealed much. Under duress, your emotions were easier to read. Programming now instructs that I give you what you seek.”

Wait, what? “Why the change?” I ask, “If I failed your initial test, why can I have the map now?”

“That information is unavailable.” Of course it is. “Soon you will recognize the proper course to follow.” What? “The Star Map is yours. This unit has now completed its primary duty and has finished with the subject. Executing final action. Activation of Star Map commencing. Parameters reset. Stasis initiated. End communication.”

I mean, if the machine wanted a fight, it could have just said so. I could have dueled Jolee or something.

When the Star Map opens, I feel the Dark Side the same way I did on Dantooine and Tatooine. Bastila shudders. “Well, well,” Jolee says, “A Star Map. An ancient artifact of dark side power. Can't say I'm surprised. I always knew there was something funny down here. I wonder if the Star Map has had an effect on the evolution of the creatures here in the Shadowlands. Might explain why it's so dangerous down here.”

“Well, the Star Map on Tatooine attracted a giant krayt dragon, so it’s certainly possible,” i say, loading the coordinates into my datapad. Okay, that’s that. “Now, Freyyr?”

“Yes, the other reason you’re down here,” he says, “Let’s go, then.”