#without the terrorism and the bombs and whatnot

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #50

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please enjoy.

The sound of Pomp & Circumstance filled the entire hall, weaving through the ears of proud parents and extended relatives. Backstage, the graduates stood in line, waiting for their turn on stage, but none was more excited than the one and only salutatorian, Patty Ward. Unlike most other people, Patty relished public speaking.

While the five valedictorians discussed their division of labor in the corner, Patty stood confident in the knowledge that she’d already practiced and memorized her speech over the previous week. She was going to kill - absolutely kill.

The valedictorians went up first, nearly tripping over each others’ gowns on the way to the podium. The tall one took out a stack of index cards and tapped them on the podium before flipping through them and handing them out to the other four.

“Wait, wait, wait,” the short one whispered. “Why do I have three cards? The rest of you only have two.”

“Weren’t you paying attention?” The blonde one asked. “We agreed that since you go last, you have to take the extra card.”

“Where was I when you made that decision?”

“You know what, actually,” the bearded one rubbed his hairy chin. “I think you might have been in the bathroom. But it’s just the closing remarks.”

“Guys!”

“Look, it’s not a big deal, I’ll take the extra card.” The brunette swiped the card from the short one and added it to her stack. “Can we please all get along? This is the last time we’ll all be in the same room together. It’s important.”

Patty agreed. In fact, she was counting on that fact for her speech.

The tall one approached the microphone first, and awkwardly read from his cards. His part of the speech was something about unity in the face of challenges, but it was brief since each of the valedictorians only got about twelve seconds for their portion of the speech.

The rest of them gave similarly stilted reads of their lines, which for valedictorians seemed poorly written and low effort. They just didn’t seem to have anything to say.

Single file, the five of them left the stage, and Patty knew it was her turn. She got a whole minute all to herself. She confidently approached the podium, staring out into the massive crowd of faceless silhouettes. There was no need to ‘imagine them in their underwear’, or whatever people always said to do. Each person ceased to be human, ceased to be an individual with complex thoughts and motives. They were all part of the hive mind known as the audience. If one laughed, all laughed. A clap could begin anywhere and radiate out at the speed of sound.

Patty adjusted the microphone to her preference and slid her finger along the remote in her pocket. It was smooth to the touch.

“Greetings, all! It is my honor to speak to you all today and to congratulate the Class of 2017 for their great achievement. We did it!”

She held her arms in the air and the cheers quaked the room, localized in the teacher region of the audience.

She continued. “But it wasn’t easy. We struggled, we persevered. We studied, we procrastinated. We tried, and sometimes, we failed. Except the valedictorians, of course.”

She gestured to stage left, where the five had gone and now stood in the shadows. The crowd erupted into laughter. It didn’t take much.

“Me, personally? I stand before you as salutatorian - that is, the second-best - because I worked hard. Because I never gave up. Because of that one B in AP History.”

Everyone laughed at that one, as expected, and no one laughed harder than Mr. Idolt, the teacher who gave her the grade that sealed her fate. The one semester in which she didn’t get an A in every class. She took this moment of pause to pull the remote from her pocket and hold it up in the air.

“The funniest part is I’m not fucking joking.”

No one in the crowd could tell what she was holding, but the quiet that immediately took the room told her that she had them worried.

“This remote is attached to a series of explosives I have placed around the building. I don’t want to have to use it, but I did not come THIS FAR to leave with a goddamn three-point-nine-seven GPA! I get a four-point-oh or every one of us turns into a crater!”

Patty pointed at Mr. Idolt. “Come on up here!”

He stumbled, clearly scared out of his mind, across the row of seats to the aisle and walked toward the stage. He climbed up awkwardly and brushed himself off before hesitantly approaching the podium.

“Why don’t you tell them all why I ended up with a B, teach?” She pushed the microphone toward him.

“Uh…” the microphone popped and he pulled back from it by an inch. “I didn’t think your essay was quite up to par with AP grading guidelines. For a nine. I gave you an eight instead. That is still very good.”

“Were there better essays?”

“I have seen many -”

“Were there better essays in this graduating class?”

He adjusted his glasses, which slipped down his nose from all the nervous sweat. “Uh… no. No, I don’t suppose there were.”

Patty pointed back off stage. “So why did you give blondie over there a nine?”

The crowd gasped. Idolt began shaking and looked toward his wife, who shook her head in disapproval. He gulped.

Patty rubbed her thumb along the contours of the button on the remote while refusing to break eye contact with the man.

“I… I must have made a mistake. She… didn’t deserve it. It… wasn’t as good as yours. I’ll - I’ll fix it, okay! I will!”

“You’ll give me an A for that semester?”

“Yes! Yes! You were my best student, you always were!” He started crying and fell to his knees.

Patty looked at the crowd, satisfied by her revenge, and clicked the button. Contrary to what she had claimed would happen, however, no one exploded into a million pieces. The projector screen descended behind her on stage and the lights dimmed. She moved the microphone back into place for her to speak into it.

“And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I leave you as the sixth valedictorian of the Class of 2017. Please enjoy the rest of the ceremony.”

[tanadrin]

i think you can make a plausible argument that it was the cultural reaction to 9/11 that killed the star trek franchise for a long time. without rehashing the politics of the 00s too much, there were two possible reactions to something like 9/11, what we might term the "oklahoma city" reaction and the reaction we actually got. 9/11 could have been viewed as a major tragedy but ultimately a criminal act, one which had to be dealt with by the civil authorities like the mcveigh bombing or other notable incidents of deadly terrorism on US soil prior to that date. instead though it was largely conceived of as a foreign military threat, encouraged no doubt by an administration that wanted to pursue a more vigorous foreign policy, and we got, well--*gestures at the first two decades of the 21st century*

this really soured the national political mood--it made the cultural zeitgeist one of paranoia and violent revenge fantasies. it gave us 24, and Taken, and while I'm not sure it's wholly responsible for the reboot of BSG (there's a throughline there with Ronald D. Moore's other work) it certainly contributed to an environment that was receptive to it. and i think in that environment 90s end-of-history optimism about the future, though it should have been a welcome corrective to all that cynicism and paranoia, simply felt like an anachronism. enterprise did last a few years, but only four seasons in total, the shortest run since TOS. the only movie we got in that era before the big hiatus was Nemesis, a movie about terrorism and a foreign threat that just felt kind of weird and incoherent.

and that was the problem for star trek in that era: if you take the utopianism out of roddenberry's future, you're not left with anything interesting. utopianism is the whole justification for these guys exploring space and going boldly and whatnot, the whole reason why the federation is worth rooting for over any of the other guys. i think a big reason the jj abrams movies fail to have any real substance is that they try to make star trek an action-adventure thing, when that was never its strong suit--indeed, TOS fight scenes are notoriously bad!--and it really took until discovery before people were willing to make star trek qua star trek again.

but even then, there's a degree of pessimism at the core of (some of) post-hiatus star trek that sits uncomfortably with the show's original utopian vision. some of this is just the usual metastasization of conceits that worked better as one-offs or very sparingly at most, comparable to the way the borg got beaten into the ground by voyager. but the heavy reliance on elements like section 34 and the mirror universe and the postapocalyptic future and the crapsack alpha quadrant of picard all to me speak of a certain yearning for utopia--a nostalgia for the utopias of the 90s--but much greater cynicism about the relevance of utopian fiction to our day-to-day lives.

[kafus]

story update time! most of this is from yesterday when i was calling a friend on discord lmao. i got to celestic town and after talking to all the npcs i advanced the story

man cyrus really thinks in black and white huh. like there's either full balance with no change, or he has to rewrite the entire world in his ideal image or whatever. can very much see why his, essentially, cult recruitment works so well. it's bold and sounds noble and cuts out nuanced thought lol

at first i was slightly taken aback by the implication that change = bad at all, but after coming back to these screencaps i am pretty sure she means fundamental change with how the human spirit etc works, in reference to cyrus wanting to literally rewrite the universe and the mural of the lake trio behind everyone here

and of course his threat in this situation is the destruction of an ancient illustration of the deities he seeks to control and destroy. not only is that symbolic for obvious reasons but this is an adult man with supposedly more power than you (a child) and the elderly person next to you who is able to fuck up a cave wall with his pokemon or whatever. he's trying to intimidate you. i won of course btw lol

further confirming my thoughts earlier, cynthia's grandma goes on to say that sinnoh is filed with the memories and thoughts of countless people and pokemon... why would anyone want to change those memories or thoughts? the world IS wonderful actually. the indomitable human spirit etc. and pokemon spirit SSFDKSDFKS

anyways ty for the surf HM SDFKSFDKSFD i somehow forgot to take a picture of it but she mentions that the HM belonged to cynthia, but she doesn't use it anymore. i'm assuming this means cynthia either has all her surf users, has spare surf HMs, or literally just flies everywhere. regardless i just think that's cool. my surf HM is the one cynthia used once a long while back. Neat!

oh and last time i posted about story i made a joke about how nonchalant everyone is about terrorism but i forgot this dialogue happens after the encounter with cyrus in the cave LMAO i really wasn't wrong, that was intentional! cynthia says straight out that she thought they were harmless. everyone is treating galactic like delinquent teenagers spouting nonsense who aren't actual threats. especially after the bomb that went off in the great marsh caused little to no damage, i guess. sinnoh isn't routinely experiencing great threats of violence or threats of destabilizing the region.

after our conversation cynthia recommends me to go to canalave city to check out the library and whatnot, which i can now do because i have surf, but first here's the dialogue when interacting with the dialga and palkia murals. i just think it's neat

i did indeed visit the library and since it's been a while since i paid attention in here i actually re-read all the sinnoh myth books. i'm not going to show them as screenshots here since there's way too much text and i don't have interesting things to say about all of it, but all of their text is written out word-for-word here on Bulbapedia if you've never read them before and want to check them out

i do have a FEW stray thoughts though...

in "Sinnoh's Myth" about the lake trio it says:

Bearing with them the power to make vast lands, they rise again.

as far as i know this is the only time that the trio are referenced to have the power to "make vast lands" which feels kind of out of place. like these are the beings of knowledge, emotion, and willpower, not land sea and sky like the hoenn trio or something LOL this really just feels like a throwaway line without much meaning? perhaps you could interpret as them giving people the power to create land but that's a stretch. it is probably not that deep and just awkward writing tbh

in "Veilstone's Myth" it says:

Asked he, "Why do you hide?" To which the Pokémon replied... "If you bear your sword to bring harm upon us, with claws and fangs, we will exact a toll." "From your kind we will take our toll, for it must be done." "Done it must be to guard ourselves and for it, I apologize."

there is the interpretation that this is about Giratina since veilstone is the closest city to Turnback Cave where you can find giratina, and at the end of the myth it says "Seeing this, the Pokémon disappeared to a place beyond seeing..." which could be a reference to the distortion world. however, i think there's also a counter-argument to be had here since giratina is considered forgotten by sinnoh as a whole and later in the game cynthia remarks on how it is missing in the myths - she spends a good chunk of the game researching this in the background. so it'd be kinda weird if there was just something directly written about dialogue from giratina in the library.

HOWEVER that being said i think it's definitely still Possible and if it is true that this is about giratina, it puts giratina in a more sympathetic light. i jokingly call giratina Pokemon Satan a lot (in reference to him being the "evil" one as opposed to arceus, not an actual deep reference to christianity or the actual story of satan) but this frames giratina's actions as well intentioned or in self defense, which makes him a lot more interesting as a deity imo. personally i'm not sure whether i believe this is about giratina or not

lastly, while this is well known i still wanna talk about it, in "A Horrific Myth" it says:

Look not into the Pokémon's eyes. In but an instant, you'll have no recollection of who you are. Return home, but how? When there is nothing to remember? Dare not touch the Pokémon's body. In but three short days, all emotions will drain away. Above all, above all, harm not the Pokémon. In a scant five days, the offender will grow immobile in entirety.

this is pretty directly referencing uxie (knowledge), mesprit (emotion), and azelf (willpower) in that order. portraying the lake trio as dangerous and powerful entities that can literally wipe your memories or take away your emotions is interesting juxtaposition to them supposedly being the ones that blessed humans with the ability to feel joy, have memories, and do things... and not only that, they don't seem to want to use that dangerous power either, but it seems to be out of their control - uxie has its eyes always closed (so you can't look into its eyes), mesprit flees from you (that's why it's a roamer) and azelf is able to enter someone else's body (to avoid harm). they're probably so damn secluded in these lake caves so that they don't hurt anyone. they're good natured gods i suppose

sinnoh mythology is very cool and why i love this region so much but anyway i'm going to make a Gameplay Update post as well in a bit SDFKSF

[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age�� criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Vernon Roche | Fights, Fangs And Fucking

Requested by Kayrash via Discord

Vernon Roche joins Geralt on a contract concerning vampires. When the fight proves more difficult than expected, Roche runs into a cave system to hide. Enter a powerful higher vampire, who hasn't seen such a handsome mortal in a long time...

Word count: 3900+ Relationship: Strangers

Vernon Roche was not one to pass a challenge soon. If anyone wished to test his skill, his worth of being a commander, his dedication, he’d never bat an eye. Tonight was no different.

Roche was seated at the Temerian Partisan Hideout, leaning on a makeshift bar a few of his men had come up with. In the haphazardly created camp, it was not bad. He was enjoying a bottle of ale, though it was stale and had lost most of its flavour. Around here, there wasn’t a lot to expect from luxuries like alcohol.

Lo and behold, Geralt of Rivia had dropped by. Vernon, he wasn’t half bad to offer said witcher a drink for the road. And thus, he found himself tipsily leaning on the wooden crates that sufficed for bar, and took a large swig.

“Tell you what I think, Geralt.” he said, “Slaying monsters can’t be that difficult, now can it? It’s like hunting Squirrels but less… Intelligent ones.�� Though Roche had given up chasing the damn elves some time ago, mentioning them being intelligent still made him slightly cringe, even though said words came from his own mouth. Geralt smiled a little behind his ale, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Imagine a person of any race, but venomous and way quicker. Sharper teeth, too. And claws, not to forget.”

“You only have to slay a monster a handful of times before you learn its weaknesses, no? Besides, you’ve got bestiaries. Non-humans and other vermin prove to be quite unpredictable. No book can actually describe their next move, or their intentions.”

Geralt scoffed, humming in discontent. He reached for his pocket, taking out a messily folded piece of paper. “Then I believe you’d see no problem in joining me on my next contract, hm?”

Vernon Roche unfolded it, reading over the details of the job. He thickly swallowed, but held his unfazed posture. A flock of lesser vampires terrorized the outskirts of Velen. Strange, since when did these beasts move up north? “Of course not. We can leave whenever you want.”

The witcher smirked, finishing off his drink before slamming it down onto the bar firmly. Vernon slightly jumped at the loud sound. “Okay. Let’s leave right now, then.”

Roche was slightly taken aback by the sudden need for departure, but he couldn’t back away now. “Sure.” he hummed, taking a small sip from the bottle. “I need to get some supplies, but then we can go.”

Geralt was patient enough to let Roche gather some equipment before patting onto his trusty steed’s back, coaxing her to wait a little longer. “I have no horse available.” Vernon said, hoisting a bag over his shoulder. Estimating by the darkness outside and the faint glimmer of a star here and there, it must be far past midnight. Geralt held out his hand for him to take.

“Come on, then. Ride with me, it’s quicker that way. You can hold that lantern, too.” Vernon looked at the lantern he had strapped to his hip, a candle flickering inside of it. Geralt didn’t need the light, but he figured Vernon would enjoy the idea of being able to see in this dark night.

The commander held onto his friend, who brought Roach into a steady gallop soon enough. Even though Velen wasn’t too close to the hideout, it should only take them a few hours to get to the location mentioned in the contract. It was close to Crow’s Perch, but Vernon did not know who the current head of town was. He had caught wind of Phillip Strenger hanging himself, leaving him wondering how the disease-ridden the no-mans-land was doing.

“Lesser vampires,” Geralt mumbled, “should not prove too difficult if you carry the right amount of bombs and blade oil with you. Here,” he handed Roche a vial of a dark red liquid, “Grease your sword with this as soon as we arrive.”

“I spoke with the contract-giver, and there should be around five lesser vampires roaming about. Two-hundred gold I bargained, of which a hundred upfront. I will pay you twenty percent after this.”

The ride was long and pesky, but Geralt’s horse was fast and left Vernon Roche with just a dull ache in his thighs. He’d certainly feel that tomorrow, the commander thought, but what was that compared to the fight he was about to get into? He had to learn to not run his mouth so often. Lucky for him, the daze of the ale had already worn off.

Per Geralt’s instruction, Vernon coated his blade with the substance, handing the remainder back to the witcher. The White Wolf threw back a few potions Vernon did not know the name of – after all, Black Blood was not a commoner’s liquid – and chased away Roach. Geralt looked around with dark eyes, as if he had already sensed something in the air that any other could not hear nor smell.

“Get ready.” he growled lowly, the silver of his blade shimmering in the moonlight. “They’re creeping closer.”

The first one showed up quicker than expected and shortly left Vernon frozen in his spot, but he managed to deflect the lash aimed at him. Geralt soon intervened, slashing the head of the katakan clean off.

“Holy fuck!” The commander had to prevent himself from covering his mouth because of the stench – this was different up close. Sure, he had smelled corpses feasted on by ghouls on abandoned battlefields, maggot-filled men that had been dead for weeks, but being actually covered in blood and whatnot from a monster like this; it had him startled.

A loud cry from one of the creatures pulled him to his senses again, and he parried, managing to strike the beast across its snout. It certainly showed agony from the pain the oil caused, but it did not falter for long. Roche slashed off one of the katakan’s front paws before finishing it off by stabbing it in the skull.

Geralt on the other side had already killed a few of the agitated creatures, though confusion visible in the knitting of his brow. Hardly breaking a sweat, he turned to Roche, who was having a difficult time killing a weaker one than the one before.

“It’s way more than the contract stated!” “How many are there?!” Roche quizzed over the sound of screams and cries. “At least thirty! They spread faster than-“ Geralt momentarily paused to strike a fatal blow across one of the lesser vampires.

“They’ve spread faster than I expected.” From the distance, a new wave was already approaching, seemingly furious about their slain kin. “Will we manage?” “Not a chance. Not with this amount of blades and oil.”

Before Roche could ask on, he was already attacked once again. He dodged the blow, but stumbled back because of it. “Geralt!” he shouted, “What will we do now?!”

“Run and hide, Roche! Into these caves! I need to make some potions and oil!” was the witcher’s answer. Vernon had no time to respond to his friend – the White Wolf had already bolted. He cursed silently between gritted teeth, cutting the lesser vampire provoking him fatally across the chest.

He ran after Geralt, finding the cave-system easily enough, but navigating them proved way more difficult. “Geralt?” he called out, his voice echoing against the walls. Soon enough, he lost all vision.

“Geralt!” he spoke up again, but there was no response from the witcher in question. Vernon padded his sides for the lantern he had brought. In his pocket were a few matches. When blinded by darkness, lighting one was no easy task, but he succeeded after breaking a couple.

The small flame illuminated the cave, revealing its size. Vernon nearly forgot that he had to hold the match against the oil-drenched wick to prevent it from disappearing. The space was way larger than he had expected and a shiver ran down his spine. “Geralt?” he called once more. Loneliness crept up on him…

…Just like something else did… A pair of dark eyes peered at him from the ceiling, shimmering in the light of the flickering flame. Roche reached for his sword, but he froze when six other pairs of eyes seemed to aim at him. That same sound he had heard moments ago while fighting vampires rang in his ears.

So, this is it, then? Vernon thought as he saw the beasts approach, appearing way larger in the ominous space. The commander grabbed his blade nevertheless, taking on a fighting stance. It would be of no use.

Three of the beasts came at him simultaneously and Vernon slashed his sword through the air, haphazardly swinging it from side to side. He hit the vampires, but only hard enough to make them stagger momentarily.

The other four katakans took their chance and lurched forward, aiming for Roche’s neck. However, when they were about to give him the fatal blow, they halted in their actions, as if thoroughly distracted from their task and unknowing of his presence.

All seven katakans shied away like a scolded dog with its tail between its legs. They scurried off as if afraid of what was lurking in the shadows. Or better said… whom.

“What mortal goes there, dares to intrude?” A feminine voice pierced the air, clear as day. The hairs of his neck stood on end at the sound of it, fear immediately tugging at his conscience. He regained his cool posture soon enough, but the creature seemed to have already smelt it.

You approached from the shadows, eyes as dark and shimmering as the ones of the katakans had been. Your pupils were wide blown and showed no colour around them. “Who are you?” Roche asked, tone shivering and giving away his emotions.

“I could ask you the same, soldier.” As you spoke, Vernon could see the sharp fangs you momentarily bared. A vampire, but different. Roche frowned – a higher vampire?

“Who are you to enter my cave without any kind of invitation?” you hissed, inhaling his scent deeply. Slowly, you started to walk around him as if sizing him up, attempting to intimidate him. He was a rather delicious-looking piece of meat. It had been a while since you’ve had your fill of lust and blood.

To Vernon, it seemed as if you were floating around him, the padding of your bare feet inaudible, absent. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, wrapping his fingers around it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Of course, as a vampire, you took quick notice of his actions.

You halted in front of him, eyes resting on his face before falling to the heavy pendant around his neck. “Ah, the Blue Stripes… Tell me, how badly do you want to return to your Temeria?”

You were toying with him, and it was working. Roche swallowed thickly whilst your gaze pierced through him. “I… I can just head out if you show me the way.”

A dissatisfied tut left your heavily painted lips. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, no mortal should disturb a higher’s rest. Didn’t they teach you that at army school?” For a moment, you took the metal pendant in your hand, tugging at it firmly. It came dangerously close to snapping.

“I’m the fucking commander. Of course I know about the danger surrounding monsters.”

Putting a hand on your heart, you feigned hurt. In the dim light of the lantern, you made sure that he was seeing you pull down your gown a little more, revealing more of your cleavage.

“You think me a monster? Oh, I’m thoroughly offended, sir.”

Once again, you walked around him, but now halting behind his back. You stood on your tiptoes, breathing heavily in his neck. “Good thing I’m parched.” Vernon visibly cringed at the feel of your fangs scraping against the nape of his neck. “A handsome commander’s blood should just suffice.”

Before Roche could attack, you were already gone. He stood rather awkwardly and confused with his sword in hand, looking around frantically around him. A shiver of mist soon approached, accompanied by a giggle. “Oh, commander.” you basically purred, “You’re not getting it, do you?”

Suddenly, the sword was flung from his grip as if it was nothing. It clattered against the wall somewhere nearby. Roche was defenceless, now…

“Stop lurking in the shadows like a coward! Show yourself if you’re going to rob me of my belongings!”

“Oh, there is no shadow for me, sir.” you replied, circling around him in a misty cloud. He nearly dropped his lantern onto the ground from fear, shivering on his feet. Vernon Roche was never afraid – except now.

“I can see all. I can smell how scared you are of me. How endearing.” “What do you want to do with me?!” Roche spat, “There is a witcher nearby! He will find us and kill you!”

Soon, you turned into your corporeal shell again, your (h/c) flowing over your shoulders as you stopped in front of the commander. He slightly parted his lips at the sight, not able to talk for a moment. He wanted to shake the thought off but failed: You were absolutely gorgeous. It must be a trick, he fooled himself.

“Not only do you show disrespect by trespassing, you threaten to kill me and to top it all off you throw a witcher into the mix? Very interesting, commander.” You leaned in closer, bringing your face to his.

Vernon closed his eyes at the feel of your breath on his lips, entranced at your approach. “You know nothing about higher vampires, do you?” Your lips ghosted over his chin, softly brushing his stubble. “You’re lucky that it’s been awhile since I’ve… Been this intimate with a mortal. How about I don’t kill you… For now.”

His eyes snapped open at the suggestion but he was soon surprised by the feel of your fangs against his neck, scratching the skin slightly yet not to the point of breaking. Breath hitching in his throat, Roche braced himself against you, gripping your waist out of pure instinct.

You lightly giggled, dragging your tongue over the spot you’d damaged. “Tell me, commander. Ever done it with a monster before?”

“Stop playing your games, vampire. You should be impaled with a stake through the heart.” “You believe I have one?” he could practically feel your smirk. “A heart, I mean.”

“Don’t think I will tolerate this behaviour!” “Says the man who’s got his hands on my hips.”

Vernon realized where his hands had been resting and you pulled your face from his neck, giving him an endearing smile. He gazed down at you, biting his bottom lip while deliberating. A gentle reminder about what you wanted; you pressed your hands against his chest and ground your hips forward against his groin.

The commander groaned lowly and allowed you to press your lips to his. Yours were surprisingly cold but showed passion nevertheless. He was hungry for more and let you know by pushing his tongue forward, attempting to roll it into your mouth.

Interesting and needy, you thought to yourself, smirking at the swell of his erection in his underpants. Mortals can be so easily coaxed into anything.

Vernon Roche tasted unlike any other you’d ever tasted. It caused a pool of heat to course through your abdomen and the numbing spot between your legs. His hands carded themselves through your hair, feeling each strand carefully as if it was the softest material he had ever felt. It had been so long ago since he’d touched someone like this that he couldn’t help himself.

An experienced kisser like you must’ve been with many men before, Roche shortly speculated. Your nimble fingers showed no sign of struggle with undoing the belt around his waist, letting it fall to the floor with an echoing thud. Vernon slightly jumped at the sudden noise, but you showed no such reaction.

Instead, you dragged your fangs across his throat, enough to leave marks that did not bleed, as if a cat had scratched him. They stung a little, spurred on by cold air. “Is this what you want, commander?” you purred, voice not louder than a whisper. Roche opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly you evaporated into mist right in his hands.

You circled him, starting around his ankles, all the way to his face. “Tell me…” you whispered in his ear from behind, causing him to confusedly look around. “Oh, your body tells me enough. And your heartbeat…”

As if there was magic involved, Roche’s trousers became undone. Invisible hands tugged it down to his ankles and he was unable to respond properly. Ashamed, he closed his eyes when his erection popped from his underwear, throbbing and swollen with need.

“What a sight.” you sincerely murmured, sneaking your hands around his armour to push it off his shoulders. Roche was entranced by the feel of you so effortlessly unclothing him, clouding him completely. He shivered from the cold hitting his skin, and when you reappeared in your tangible shell, it only intensified. You were stark naked, your body unlike any he had ever seen.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a man so handsome.” you mused, sinking to your knees. Experienced, quick and nimble fingers wrapped around the hilt of his cock, testing the waters. Roche groaned, almost too overwhelmed to be able to stand on his legs. He kept his ground and simply watched when your dark red lips wrapped around his tip.

You always enjoyed the flavour of human sperm on your tongue, giving it an extra swirl around his foreskin before pulling it back around the sensitive circle around his shaft. An extra treat; not better than blood, but just as enticing.

He slipped further into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You didn’t gag, looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, his face a blur through your lashes. He was thoroughly liking this, you noticed in his composure.

Vernon bit his lip, deliberating whether it would be appropriate to put a hand in your hair. He decided against it, putting it to his side instead, figuring you a creature that liked to be in charge. Never before had he felt a mouth so soft and refined, yet so demanding.

He gritted his teeth, hissing when you mouthed the sensitive spot under his head, making it tremble against your bottom lip. A small laugh left your lips, but Roche couldn’t figure out if it was meant as playful or mocking.

“You… You’re pretty.” he said within grunts. Momentarily, you paused your lapping at his cock to laugh. “A man gets blown by a total stranger and all he can say is that she’s pretty.”

You stood up, releasing the weight of his erection to put your hand against his chest instead. A hungry kiss, animalistic, needy. Vernon dared to put a hand behind your neck to pull you closer. When your teeth clashed together, you pulled back, frowning with a smirk forming at the corner of your mouth. “You’re amusing, commander.”

“Roche.” “Huh?” “Roche. My name.” “Oh. Roche. As in…  Cockroach?”

Vernon scoffed humourlessly. “My friend has a horse named Roach. Same pronunciation. Different spelling though.”

Long fingers rested at the nape of his neck where you put your hand. For a second, you scraped your nails against the scruff where his stubble began.

“Enough trivial talk.” you whispered. “Roche.”

You looked as if you were hovering over the cold floor when you slipped past him, leaning against the wall with your hands. You bent forward slightly, looking over your shoulder at him. “Down to business, no?”

You allowed him to rest his hand on your hip, his fingers soon exploring the (s/c) skin of your flesh. His gaze halted at your core, dripping with need. “You haven’t told me your name.” he replied, moving to stand behind you. In a complete state of trance, he guided himself inside of you, slipping past your folds without a lot of effort.

Biting your bottom lip, you breathed out a moan. “Oh, that doesn’t matter. Just feel nice inside me, alright?” You didn’t have to repeat yourself, your simple request spurring the commander on to start fucking you. Though his thrusts were slow, testing out your depths, you enjoyed the girth of his cock moving in and out of you.

When he found a steady rhythm of his hips, Vernon Roche tried maintaining the pace, earning a few moans from you. You braced yourself against the wall, throwing back your head in enjoyment. Judging by his movements and the way he twitched inside of you, it was clear that he hadn’t gotten action in a long time.

It was wrong to blame him for it – you were just as touch-starved. It had been ages since an attractive human had dared set foot near your hideout, let alone cross paths with you. And thus, you found yourself joining in his movements, rolling against him to the point his skin slapped yours with every thrust.

“Make sure your witcher friend won’t notice us!” you teased. “What would he think of walking into us like this? Seeing you balls deep in a higher vampire.” You had to prevent yourself from bursting out into laughter. “Oh, you’re twitching… Are you close, commander?”

His cock once again throbbed inside of you and you moved your hand between your thighs to stimulate your clitoris. “What a man you’d be if you wouldn’t let me cum first, huh?’ you taunted, soon chasing after your high. Roche’s grip on your ass tightened whilst he quickened the speed of his stuttering hips. Your cunt clenched around him, drawing him closer, closer, closer…

And then he burst inside of you, stilling in his movements, eyes snapped shut. A groan escaped his throat, one that had been building deep inside his lungs ever since the build of his release. Your orgasm was quieter. Why would you give him the satisfaction? You’d seen what such pride could do to mortal men… It was a nice pulsating of your clit accompanied by the heat of his cock still buried deep inside of you.

Roche sighed, sweat trickling down his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, removing himself from your heat. Seed trickled down your thighs. The air was immediately colder again. Perhaps it was the sweat on his body cooling off, Roche thought.

And as to where your clothes had so quickly disappeared, so quickly they had returned to your form. You moved over to the commander, who was still standing with everything out for all to see. You leaned in and kissed him chastely on the lips, smiling while pulling back.

“Thank you, commander Roche. Tell your witcher friend I said hi.”

Before he could ask what you meant, he heard footsteps around the corner. “Roche? I've slayed the remaining vampires! Roche?!” Geralt’s raspy voice sounded, out of breath though concerned.

With a giggle, you moved away from the commander, your final question to him a whisper. “Will you come to visit me again one day?”

You blew him a kiss, and he didn’t get the chance to reply, because you had disappeared before he knew it.

“There you… What the fuck?”

Geralt shielded his face from the naked commander, who was hastily looking for his undergarments. Getting lost in a cave system and then being found in the nude like that, smelling of sex? Vernon Roche definitely had some explaining to do, over a cup of cheap wine on their way back to receive the contract’s pay.

[firelord-frowny]

So like?? I’m still a baby as far as my familiarity with the Star Trek franchise, and so far, I’ve only really delved into TNG, DS9, and Voyager, but holy WOW, I haven’t ceased to be amazed by the incredible scope of topics and concepts and the boldness with which it dives head first into social issues that most shows, even by today’s standards, wouldn’t touch with a 40-lightyear-long pole. 

The Star Trek Franchise has always had a reputation for being ~progressive~ and inclusive in addition to just being straight up beautifully written, and so here’s my dumb lil list of reasons why I think folks should watch Star Trek:

~Female~ characters are characters who happen to be female. Their femaleness is by no means ignored, but it’s also not The Point of their presence in the overall storylines. Women are captains and admirals and doctors and hailed scientists, and it’s not considered unusual or impressive. They aren’t “shattering stereotypes” or “proving men wrong.” They’re simply brilliant, powerful, and authoritative, and no one questions it. On the rare occasion that gender-based discriminatiton is mentioned, it’s usually within a context of “back on Acient Earth when humans were dumb as hell.” 

The same is true for characters of color. Though the casts are still overwhelmingly white, characters of color are present, important, and respected. They’re engineers and scientists and security specialists. Also?? Off the top of my head, races/ethnic groups that have been represented as more than just background characters have included black folks, south asian folks, east asian folks, native americans, and I’m suree that doesn’t cover it. Also?? Actors of color also get to play aliens! Idk, I just think that’s cool, considering how people like to pitch a fit any time a black person is cast as a vampire or an elf or an alien or a native of a completely made up country in a world that does not exist.

A healthy, openly affectionate relationship between a black dad and his black son! This happens in Deep Space 9, specifically, between the main character, Captain Sisko, and his son, Jake. Their relationship is BEAUTIFUFL, and honestly, DS9 is worth watching for that reason alone.

Portrayals of masculinity are SO!!! HEALTHY!!! Male characters can be strong and tall and brave and protective of their families, all without also being gross jerks while they’re at it. And?? There are male characters who are more ~effeminate~ and literally no one cares. They’re short or thin or not physically imposing and they like to do soft, quiet things like drink tea or play the flute or sew clothing. They’re still respected and admired and their skills are valued and no one insinuates that they need to “man up.” 

Likewise, when a woman is brash and loud and physical and strong and confident, no one tells her to “act like a lady.” 

For the most part, human society has evolved beyond money, poverty, and violence. Earth is a unified planet, rather than a bunch of little angry countries yelling at each other. Humans almost unanimously view bigotry, discrimination, poverty, etc, as being primititve and repugnant. These values are obvious in how the human crew experience the various situations and alien cultures they encounter. 

Since humankind is “beyond” issues like racism or sexism or religious discrimination and whatnot, the show examines these issues by having the crew struggle to navigate social issues between other alien cultures. They have this concept called the “prime directive” which more or less states that under no circumstances should they interfere with the development of less “advanced” civilizations, and it’s interesting to see them struggle to balance “minding their own business” with “maybe don’t let this planet commit genocide against that planet.” 

Despite humankind’s and the Federation’s supposed high moral code, we still see many instances where their choices and actions are questionable, if not outright wrong, and we get to see all the philosophical and literal chaos it stirs up within the galaxy

Romance is rarely a Main Storyline, and even when it’s just a significant subplot, the parties involved always have more to love about each other than just He’s Hot and She’s Hot. 

Healthy romantic relationships are shown in interracial couples, as well as couples where both peeps are black. DS9 even brings up some same-sex love and lust, though unfortunately it never lingered on the subjects for long.

Heavy Topics addressed include: transracial (transspecies, really) adoption, the validity of terrorism as a political tactic (yes, the bombing and killing kind), parents whose children die, children whose parents die, slavery, suicide, assisted suicide, religion and faith, lack of religion and faith, the definition of “life”, rights to self determination, bodily autonomy, capital punishment, torture, war and violence in the context of culture... the list is almost literally endless.

Cute/Funny topics addressed include: Humor and what makes things Funny, two Opposite Characters getting into wacky shenanigans together, trying to find the perfect gift for a loved one, miscommunication and how it causes hilarious chaos to ensue.

Basically, Star Trek leaves no stone unturned and deeply explores a lot of topics that I know are important to lots of peeps in my social circles here on tumblr, so like. If you’re running out of shit to do to pass the time while you hide from the plague, I deeeeefinitely recommend Star Trek. You can pretty much start with any series in no particular order, though once you start a series you’re usually best off watching the episodes in that series in order.

[vagrantblvrd]

@rogueghost​ Tumblr’s still acting weird for me so I had to do the old DIY reply to your ask, but here you go. :D?

Oh, friend! There’s so much lore to Destiny that I haven’t kept up with myself because ~lazy. The AUs I’ve written are a mishmash of Destiny universe and ~artistic liberties on my part, so yeah.

(There’s an amazing video here about the lore thus far that I hope to watch One Day? But, again, lazy and lack of time to sit down to properly absorb it.)

Quick background on the games/Ghosts for those who don’t play the game/want to see me ramble on about A Thing:

The game tells us is the Traveler (giant white space orb/messiah/McGuffin showed up in our solar system which resulted in what’s called the Golden Age where human technology advanced like whoa. (But surprise, surprise, the Traveler was being pursued by an enemy referred to as the Darkness and things got messy for humanity, something that happened to several races that happened to run into the Traveler before us.)

There was an extinction level event several centuries before the events of the Destiny games called The Collapse when the Darkness caught up to it. The Traveler “died”, creating the Ghosts as it did to seek out Guardians...who tend to be dead at the time (they get better) who then join the ranks of the Guardians (who for the most part) fight to save humanity/the universe and/or engage in shenanigans such as flinging themselves off the Tower for funsies and the whatnot. (Guardians have no common sense, btw. Also, lunatics.)

BUT.

Back to your amazing prompt???

It would be this entire Thing on its own because I want to set it before the games back in the days before there was a Vanguard, which from what I gather from the lore I have read was not unlike ye olden medieval days/wild west with sci-fi twist, because yes. (Also, it was referred to as the Dark Ages, so yeah.)

Geoff and Jack are among the first Lightbearers that are referred to as Risen in various bits of game lore, right? Before the Iron Lords and the whole “Guardian” business with the Vanguard and the Tower and all that good stuff.

Back in the days where there were some like them who abused their powers over those who weren’t like them. Grabbing land and wealth for themselves and gaining followers through fear and the whatnot?

They spend a long, long time trying to figure out what the hell is going on because no memories of their past lives and this hellish world they’ve been brought back to with Fallen and God knows what else wandering the lands.

Just these little glowing balls of Light and sass nagging them about finding shelter and armor and weapons,  getting them into hiding when Fallen patrols or other bandits go past.

Abilities before there were proper classes and sub-classes and all that.

Geoff and Jack both lean more towards the floofy jumps and glides of Warlocks. (not that they know what a Warlock even is at that point, of course.)

Jack’s abilities and whatnot lean more towards a support role, but he’s not defenseless, oh no. He learns to use his Light as a weapon and that goes for Geoff too.

They carry guns and knives and in a pinch whatever is at hand.

Run into each other in a little settlement somewhere and at first it’s this Thing where they’re keeping their Ghosts out of sight – Warlords and so on who flaunt their little Ghost friends and the way people have learned to react to them. (And also? Just smart not to go about advertising the fact you’re harder to kill than most, that if they don’t know you have a Ghost you won’t stay down once someone tries to put you in the ground.)

There’s an attack, Fallen or human bandits or some Warlord’s goon squad trying to terrorize the settlement into rolling over for them. Pay a tax or whatever they’d call it back then to “protect” them from the roving bands of Fallen and other enemies.

Can’t do much without giving themselves away – and why would they? They don’t owe these people anything, and that old woman scooping her wares off the ground where her booth’s been knocked down tried to shortchange Geoff less than an hour ago.

The asshole with the weapons parts Jack needed is – okay, he’s kind of dead now, but he lied to Jack’s face about not having them in stock. Said he’d have to ask around, and wouldn’t you know it that would cost more. (Jack can see the parts he was after spilling from a box hidden at the back of the guy’s booth and into the grass, blood all over them and what a mess.)

Still.

Jack quietly takes the parts he needs and leaves the money he would have paid fairly for them and a little more with the boy crouched beside the booth. (His mother’s a settlement over, said she’d be a bit before joining his father with the parts she was bartering for there.)

Sighs as he looks down the road the goons left on and starts after them. Geoff’s munching on an apple he got of a nearby tree and watches him go, all thoughtful about it because there are people mourning here and they don’t owe them a damn thing, and what does that idiot think he’s going to do about it?

So of course he follows, just to see.

The end up killing everyone at the Warlord’s little castle, wherever he’s holed up because none of them will listen to reason and the man’s a blowhard. Full of himself because he’s clearly been chosen for a reason, and what else could it be than to rule over the weaker, lesser people in this section of the world?

And Geoff, God, Geoff.

Died several times getting to this asshole, right? Snipers and assholes with knives and other melee weapons and he was in dire need up upgrading his armor before he waded into this fight, but he’s got his trusty Ghost buddy and this stubbornness that just won’t quit. Smiles because this pathetic weasel playing king and is just like, “Oh, buddy, have I got news for you.” and behind him Jack pops his super, Radiance lighting up the Warlord’s pitiful little throne room.

Geoff lets that sink in for a moment before he fricking nova bombs the Warlord in the face.

It kind of hurts a little, when they see the asshole’s Ghost hiding in a corner of the room waiting for the right moment to resurrect the bastard, because their own Ghosts and the bonds they’ve built with them, you know?

But the little Ghost floats out to the center of the room, looks down at the body of its chosen and sighs because it knew a long time ago it chose poorly. (Maybe the Warlord could have done great things with this second chance, but he chose to do terrible things instead.)

They could kill the Ghost, make sure the Warlord didn’t come back, but -

There’s no point to it now. The Ghost is surprised at their decision, maybe disappointed. (Easier for things to end and not have to consider everything that went wrong because of its choice of course. Having to go on however long with that hanging over it? Nothing like mercy, is it?)

So.

They leave the Ghost behind, and all the dead in the halls and rooms where they fell. Find the path that leads away from the settlement and that small little Warlord and keep walking. (Swear they see a light in the woods along the castle grounds following them for a distance, but they leave it be and eventually it vanishes, wandering as aimlessly as them.)

And then!

They kind of fall in together after that, aren't really friends but there aren’t that many directions to go in, you know? And sometimes the Fallen patrols and whatnot are tricky for one Risen to deal with alone and it’s just.

Convenient.

They’re not bad guys, really, certainly no villains, but wouldn’t you know it? There are a lot of people out there who claim they are?

All these warlords with their bounties and other thieves and grifters with grudges to bear against them. Settlements who aren’t sure what to make of them and are wary of strangers because it pays to be paranoid.

And sometimes they kind of do bad things, pilfer some goods off a settlement where the leader’s an asshole and it’s doing well enough for they won’t miss just a little and so on and so forth. (Ignore the fact they maybe stop ‘round a poorer settlement or homestead kind of place to barter their stolen goods for a place with a roof over their heads for the night and so on. Because unimportant and definitely not a Good Deed or anything.)

Eventually they happen on this little asshole of a Hunter, a kid, really. (Well, no. Just. Young.)

Skittish, almost, the way he acts around them and after they win his trust by sheer dint of doing nothing he joins them beside the campfire they’ve set up.

Well, not nothing. Just. Something?

They set up camp in a clearing of the forest they’ve found themselves in this time. Tired after crossing a snowy mountain rage and it’s warm enough where they are they won’t freeze to death at night. (Once was enough, thanks.)

Hunt and fish and forage for food and leave the Hunter they spot lurking about alone when they realize he’s no threat to them.

Eventually Gavin gets curious enough, or maybe something else because he comes to their campfire with tidbits of food of his own. Treats and delicacies he’s made himself or bought or traded for somewhere else to supplement whatever Geoff and Jack caught/foraged for themselves.

They share stories, mostly Geoff and Jack about their adventures up to then. Little ones, because they’d hate to spook Gavin, scare him back into the forest and probably gone off somewhere they don’t stand a chance of finding him again.

After a while Gavin offers up some of his? Mostly advice for the area around them, dangers to look out for like Fallen patrols and the like.

Geoff asks after this human bandit encampment he heard about from a settlement nearby and Gavin goes quiet. Shifts uncomfortably before he tells them it won’t be a problem anymore and leaves it at that.

They don’t ask because they have stories of their own that end like that and it would just be rude after the goodies Gavin shared with them, so they don’t press.

The three of them wander around the forest for a few days, a week. Headed the same direction to another settlement nearby and it’s pretty nice having someone else around for a change, you know?

But once they reach the settlement Gavin vanishes on them and knowing how skittish he is, they don’t go looking for him.

A few years – twenty, thirty, maybe more – go by before they run into Gavin again.

They’ve left Earth a few times since then, gone wandering in these Jumpships that fell apart on them before too long and they ended back up on Earth.

By that time there’s a new group of Risen calling themselves the Iron something or others, and they’re out there giving the Warlords a time of it to hear the stories.

(A few from this shady guy who owns a bar in this little settlement that grew up to be a tiny town. Tells them about this lady named Efrideet responsible for the hole in the ceiling of his fine establishment, but he doesn’t seem too annoyed about it, so it’s probably fine.)

Run across this kid in a town somewhere, angry as hell and taking on some Warlord’s stooges with just his fists. Seems weapons would just slow him down because he’s doing just fine resolving whatever argument or debate he’s engaged in by punching the shit out of his opponents.

When it’s over they buy him a drink because it saves them the trouble of handling things themselves – picked up a bounty not too far away the kid took care of for them – and they offer to split the reward money since he did all the work.

And Michael, okay.

Squints at them because he sure as hell doesn’t know them, but who is he to turn down a free drink?

He agrees to taking a quarter of the reward because it seems they won’t accept anything less, but whatever. He would have have kicked the shit out of those assholes anyway for trying to bully the people here and this way he’ll have a little extra money in his pockets. (Whatevers.)

They part ways there, but he tells them if they need a hand they’re welcome to in touch with them.

Geoff and Jack wander a little more. Hear about these Iron Lords or whatever they’re calling themselves these days and are understandably concerned because the warlords business and who says these idiots are going to be any better?

(Say they’re out to protect people and all that, but entire settlements, towns, have gotten caught in the crossfire between them and the warlords and the only ones to walk out of it are these Iron Lords. So. Yeah. They’ve got some trouble thinking anyone’s a good guy in that scenario.)

More time goes by and they’re at some little outpost somewhere when Gavin pops up out of nowhere.

Strained look on his face and eyeing Michael who’s with them warily.

Says, “I could use your help,” which is a first because whenever they run into him he’s the one helping them out.

Hell of a sniper and no one better they’ve met when stealth is needed and anyway, anyway, they say yes because of course they do.

Like this little idiot who creeps around the wilds like it’s second nature, goes delving into Darkness Zones looking for God knows what. All kinds of trouble he gets up to and no one watching his back and just.

They worry, okay? They do.

More so with the way he’s all wound up about something. Won’t even tell them what it is until they’re out of the outpost and miles into the woods. Ghosts telling them no one’s around to listen in and even then he’s nervous.

Michael, who’s been quiet through all this loses his temper, snaps at Gavin to get on with with it already, fuck’s sake.

Jack goes to rein him in because Gavin and skittish and just, not what they need right now?

Only as it turns out, it kind of is because Gavin just.

Spills this story about coming across a crashed Fallen ketch in the mountains nearby. Too deep into Fallen territory – and treacherous terrain besides – for anyone to have reason to go up there.

But because Gavin’s an idiot and his Ghost is just as much of one, they went up there anyway.

Snuck past Fallen patrols and the whatnot to get into the ketch and found a Ghost in an odd little device that kept it from transmatting somewhere safe. Little thing begging them to find its chosen because the Fallen had caught them by surprise.

Overwhelmed them in an ambush and caught the Ghost in the cage it’s stuck in, kept its chosen because they thought he had answers they wanted.

Gavin glosses over the interrogations the Ghost told them about, how they’d torture its chosen to the point of death and have it resurrect him to do it all over again and the worst part is its chosen honestly didn’t have the answers to the questions they kept asking him? Resurrected a year ago a most when they were captured and wandering through the area by chance and just bad luck all around.

Anyway, anyway, he knows they don’t know this poor bastard, but Gavin can’t just leave him there, okay? He can’t get the guy out himself, but if they don’t want to help that’s fine, he understands, he’ll find a way -

Geoff and Jack are just like, no, you little idiot no, we’ll help. Just. Don’t do anything stupid okay?

Gavin is like “...okay?” because he didn’t know if they’d say yes – none of their business and sure, they’ve been pretty vocal about not getting involved things that don’t involve them, but that’s all just talk.

(They’ve been getting into trouble that didn’t concern them for a long damn time before now, and hey, Gavin’s kind of their business because they like him okay?)

Michael doesn’t know what Gavin’s deal is, but he’s always up for a fight and nothing better to do and when Geoff and Jack ask if he wants to go along he’s just like, sure, why not?

Gavin isn’t sure about him because Michael is a stranger to him? But he doesn’t seem too bad and Geoff and Jack like him and anyway, the more the merrier?

Thy follow Gavin up to the Fallen ketch, take out Fallen patrols and whatever else in their way headed there. Gavin has to sneak in ahead of them because there are traps and security measures the others would trample their way into and just.

“Be back in a moment,” and goes invisible because he’s got all them Hunter abilities and the whatnot.

There’s this uncomfortably long bit of time where the others are in hiding to avoid being detected and wondering if Gavin got caught by the Fallen. This whole argument about having to break in and save him too, which is when Gavin reappears, all “Took longer than I expected, but it’s all clear now,” and scares the bejesus out of them because Hunter and stealth and where the hell did he come from?

Gavin shrugging and totally not laughing at them as he takes the lead.

They get pretty far in before they’re noticed, and then it’s all fighting and shooting and maybe dying once or twice to be resurrected by their Ghost or picked up by a teammate.

Gavin makes for the trapped Ghost first, figures they might need it by the time they reach this captured Risen which, yikes? (But also smart, and also it’s easier to get and on the way and just. It works out.)

The Ghost they rescue sticks close to Gavin and his Ghost, nervous little thing after all it’s gone through and then there’s more fighting and the whatnot to get to this idiot who got himself caught.

Dicey moments and definitely some dying on their parts because there’s a Fallen tank in the ketch - naturally - and all these Vandals with their fricking wire rifles they don’t see until it’s too late, and anyway.

It’s a hell of a fight to get the guy.

Have to deal with a Kell, because of course they do, but four Lightbearers deal with him better than one or two would have and then they get to rescue the poor bastard.

His Ghost tutting and fussing and Ryan – because of course it’s Ryan – is just like, I’m alright, stop worrying and also?

Suspicious of his rescuers because he’s never seen them and four Lightbearers? Makes him Concerned, okay.

Things aren’t as bad as they were before the Iron Lords or whoever showed up, but it’s still.

He’s not very trusting, is the thing.

Grateful for the rescue and all, but not super friendly. (Which, understandable considering his recent experience.)

The group sticks together for a few days after they get out of the mountains and back down to a nearby settlement. Aren’t surprised when Ryan goes his own way – tells them he owes them one and goes off with his Ghost for more adventures or what have you.

No one is surprised when Gavin follows him all stealthy-like.

Well. Not as stealthy as he could be, because he doesn’t want to make Ryan jumpy about feeling like he’s being watched? But Gavin kind of bonded with Ryan’s Ghost a bit when he first ventured into the Ketch. Couldn’t sneak out right away and ended up living inside it avoiding Fallen for a few days. Crept down to see Ryan, talk to him when he could to tell him he’d find a way to get him out of there, you know?

(Hiding out in some little corner somewhere in the Ketch – too risky to sleep or too paranoid and there’s one or two Fallen watching Ryan he can sneak around to see him. Think about how it’d feel if he was the one in Ryan’s position and how easily that could happen to a lone Lightbearer and how awful it is that Ryan’s been there all that time and no one knew and just. He’s attached now, alright?)

Ryan too out of it most of the time to know about it, but his Ghost tells him about the idiot who went snooping where he really shouldn’t have been. Lurking about the Ketch even after he could have gotten out to make sure he had the layout and patrols memorized before going for help and just.

Everything.

So he’s not worried when the same idiot follows him when he goes on his own way, getting more bold or just bored/curious when he stops pretending he’s not following Ryan and walks into the little camp he makes somewhere.

The two of them traveling around together for a while, a few years, maybe more before they get a call from Geoff and Jack because Michael’s in a situation thanks to this asshole he fell in with somewhere.

Nothing too dire, just need the extra firepower and they help get Michael and his buddy Jeremy out of a Cabal base somewhere.

And then they go somewhere to celebrate and just. Stick together for a while?

Nothing more pressing to deal with – the Iron Lords have things pretty well in hand and all, warlords mostly gone and a semblance of order to things.

But there are still baddies out there, places the Iron Lords don’t have resources to protect just yet and they make a living out there.

Bloody, ugly living sometimes because baddies who were born that way and no one else to handle things and they’re not the bad guys here, but they’re not good either.

The SIVA clusterfuck happens and there’s this...chaos, panic for while. Things get hectic, threaten to go back to the way they were before the Iron Lords and it’s awful right?

This little group of Lightbearers out there doing what they can to keep things from getting too bad even if it means liberating goods and supplies from people hoarding them, refusing to share with those in need. Stopping the more aggressive assholes from trying for power grabs and the lot.

Maybe a few of them think twice about forming the kind of bonds they have when they see what happened to the Iron Lords because they’re not invincible even with their little Ghost buddies, you know?

But they keep on keepin’ on and watch as more and more Lightbearers show up, the City grows and Titans built its walls and the Vanguard come into being. Lightbearers start calling themselves Guardians, of all things.

And that gets derisive snort from Geoff because pretentious much? But the Guardians grow in number, fight against the Fallen and whoever – whatever – else threatens humanity. (Their City.)

Put out patrol beacons and organize strikes and all that nonsense and all these freshly resurrected Guardians going out and doing good things with their second chance. (Some driven by the desire to help mankind and all that, others by the promise of loot and prestige, and those with nothing better to do and a Ghost nudging them in the direction of being helpful.)

Still they hold out for a while, not wholly trusting in the staying power of the Vanguard and what they’re doing in that City of theirs or their Tower after seeing what happened before them.

Eventually though, they get curious.

Or maybe the Vanguard’s heard about them and they got curious.

Whichever one it is, they end up running a few strike together. Do some patrols on the side because guaranteed glimmer for some menial task they would have done for free. (Would have gotten parts and supplies anyway, handful of glimmer, but now? Better pay and earning trust in the bargain.)

Stop having to scavenge for the stuff they need and – this is bonus in Gavin’s mind at least because he’s never forgotten what happened to Ryan – someone besides one of them who’ll notice if they’re in trouble or go missing.

Who will send others to look for them (how many times have they done the same for the Vanguard already? Asked to find some wayward Guardian who bit off more than they could chew) and mourn them if they can’t be saved.

To be honest, Geoff and Jack are all about that side of things with the idiots they’ve joined up with, you know? Michael and Jeremy are one thing, get into trouble for the hell of it sometimes, but Ryan and Gavin?

Those two get up to trouble because they’re too damn stupid. Go off on their own into Dead Zones and everything else all the damn time, wander the wilds for weeks on end where communications are spotty and they won’t know they’re in trouble until long after the fact.

Ray’s even worse, but he’s one of the most capable Lightbearers any of them have met so it’s. Bad, but the whole trust thing?

(And anyway, there won’t be a time they aren’t worrying about any of their idiots, so. Yes.)

Maybe this Guardian business isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Still takes a while before they decide to throw their lot in with them, move to the Tower, but eventually they do.

Have this hidden base of sorts in the wilds all nice and locked down in case something goes wrong – Cabal attacking the city and cutting off their link to their Light, for example – and other hidey spots and boltholes all over the system because.

Paranoia for good reasons and being prepared, and anyway, anyway.

They have this little section of the Tower for their group, little clan, if you will. Pick up new Guardians every so often. Freshly resurrected or ones they hit it off with when the Vanguard sends them on strikes and the whatnot.

Lindsay and Trevor and this whole slew of new idiots Geoff and Jack watch over in their own way.

Gavin is thrilled at not being the only Hunter in the bunch when they find Alfredo. (Or maybe he finds them???)

Anyway, there’s this feeling of safety, security they have now they didn’t before being part of something bigger than themselves. (Not perfect, because the Vanguard can be horrifically shortsighted at times, but they’re doing their best.)

Also?

Loot.

Lots of loot and glimmer and that’s the important thing.

Really.

[negasonicimagines]

The House that Blows Up Every Few Years

request: Hey! Love your writing! Would you mind writing a Yukisonic x reader where the reader saves one of them from being terribly injured and the other two don’t know what to do cuz they don’t know if reader will make it and they reminisce a bit about when reader made them happy during hard times?

notes: Reader doesn’t save either, but tries to… Everyone lives, but you’ll understand what I mean. This one’s a doozy, at around 2.9k words.

warnings: domestic terrorism, housefire, near-death, hospital, wounds/scars.

The first thing you do after waking up to the smell of smoke is wake up your girlfriend. Ellie may be fireproof, but she’s not immune to smoke inhalation. The two of you grab your go bags and make a swift escape, following the rest of the people in your hallway to your station outside.

As you hear whispers of a bombing, you realize your other girlfriend, Yukio, isn’t at her station.

“She’s not there,” you say to your girlfriend, stomach dropping. “She’s not there.” Without another thought, you super-speed into the school before you can be stopped. Ellie goes after you, but is held back by teachers and staff. She fights them, yelling about Yukio, about you.

Hours that could be minutes pass by and though students are supposed to face away from the school, she and everyone else are staring. She watches as you flit past the windows, but then your form disappears. She watches the door, hoping you’ve gone downstairs, where there are less windows.

Eventually, Logan, Wade, and other assorted mutants who can withstand the fire filter out of the building. Ellie thinks you’re not with them until she notices that Wade’s got someone slung over his shoulder. You.

“Oh god!” she wails, but runs to the first aid station already set up by the authorities. Wade carries you over to the cot she’s closest to, and someone qualified begins working on you, doing CPR on you. “W-Where’s Yukio? She was looking fo Yukio?” Ellie shakes as she asks her question, one she realizes is dumb, while they are actively trying to resuscitate you.

“Why was she looking for Yukio? Yukio was out back, she had an impromptu sleepover with Jubilee,” Wade asks, confused.

“Yukio- She- She wasn’t at her station up front,” Ellie trembles. “Y/N just went in there, without a thought, to get to her… I- I…” She’s too stunned to cry, at least right now. Too stunned to be angry at Yukio, at least right now.

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why sleepovers are technically against the rules here. We have too many disasters between the old house, everyone’s old enemies, and anti-mutant organizations like the one that bombed us tonight for anyone to be unaccounted for,” Logan interjects.

“Even I know it’s not the time, dude,” Wade remarks, and Ellie doesn’t reject his comfort when he gives her a hug, letting her turn her head to keep an eye on you.

“As you can see by the soot near her nostrils and the bluish tint to her skin, your friend here is suffering from smoke inhalation. She’s breathing now, but we’ll have to take her to the hospital. What all can you tell us about her? Any allergies or other medical history we should know about? Conditions that may run in the family?” the EMT asks.

“Um, uh, she’s a mutant, uh, s-so she used her super-speed to get in and around there. She would’ve breathed a lot faster, so there m-might be- Y’know, with the inhalation, uh… I- I don’t know anything.” At this realization, the realization that you might die and she won’t know something as simple as if you have any allergies, she sobs into Wade’s chest. Your cot is lifted into the ambulance, and Wade releases Ellie, hopping in there before anyone can stop him.

The fire is finally put out, and the ambulance drives away. Ellie and Yukio sit together in one of the buses to the hotel.

“What happened? I heard Y/N got hurt, is she gonna be okay?” Yukio’s blissfully unaware, and this makes Ellie resent her even more. 

“If she dies, I will never forgive you,” Ellie informs her with a cold glare. Yukio didn’t think Ellie was capable of cold like that before now, only burning intensity with every single emotion.

“I don’t understand, what happened?”

“She was looking for you, you idiot!” Ellie shrieks, drawing the attention of everyone on the bus. “Because you weren’t at your station, and you failed to tell either of us where you were. Smoke inhalation kills way faster than the actual fire will. She’s barely alive.”

“What? She was- I- No, no, I- I- No…”  

Ellie just continues to glare, silent tears running down her cheeks as Yukio sobs into the empty seat in front of her where you should be. Ellie can almost see you, cracking jokes about how anti-mutant freaks are so stupid they can’t even bomb a building right, or how you’d wished they’d gotten someone you hated this time.

She realizes that she’s not honoring you very well by taking her frustration and fear out on the person who you tried to save.

“I’m- I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. She and I should’ve checked around before trying to go in. You- You’re not an idiot, you just wanted to hang out with your friend.”

“It’s my fault whether it was an accident or not,” Yukio admits, still crying, but she clings to Ellie now, who clings back as the ride continues.

When they get to the hotel, they share a bed, and Sally, Yukio’s roommate, gets one to herself. Normally, you’d be in the bed with them and Sally would jokingly beg you guys not to “do anything freaky.”

Ellie bitterly chuckles at the thought.

“What?” Yukio wonders. The two lay side by side, not even touching. Looking at the ceiling.

“Thinking about Sally asking us not to do anything freaky,” Ellie explains. “Remember when Y/N licked her own elbow in response and nearly dislocated her shoulder?”

Yukio giggles at the reminder, before remembering she’s not supposed to giggle while you’re fighting for your life.

“No, no, Y/N would want us to cheer up. Remember what she’d say, that dumbass meme? Keep your chin up, gamer, your headset is falling.”

“Our heads are on pillows,” Yukio retorts, being pouty and difficult in her near-grief.

“It’s a metaphor and you know it,” Ellie scoffs, knowing she has to step up and be the middle ground between herself and Yukio that you usually were. “Remember that time when she raced Pietro? And all the crazy stuff they did as tie-breakers?”

“She ended up losing because he proposed who could kiss their girlfriend faster as a challenge. He agreed she could choose just one of us, but she refused.”

“She chose you tonight,” Ellie chokes out.

“Baby, no…” Yukio reassures. “You know she thought she would get me out of there in no time, that we’d all be safe together… But I was so- So irresponsible. I’m so sorry,” Yukio breaks down again, overwhelmed by guilt.

Ellie’s phone rings, that stupid ringtone Wade programmed into it for himself when he got ahold of her phone while she was in gym.

Hey, it’s Wade, you need to pick up your fucking phone! Alexander Graham Bell didn’t invent this shit for texting, answer the call!

Ellie almost ignores it, but then remembers that Wade went with you and lunges toward the nightstand, ripping the charger out of her phone and answering, putting it on speaker.

“What’s going on, is she okay? Is she- Is she…?”

“She’s fine, Eleven. They’re gonna take some chest x-rays and whatnot tomorrow to make sure, but she’s alive, just sleeping.”

Ellie sighs in relief, ignoring Wade’s dumb nickname.

“Thank god,” Yukio weeps.

“No, thank Wade for getting her out,” Ellie corrects. “I- I owe you big time, dude.”

“Did you just… Say something nice about me? Wow, maybe- Nope. Not worth it,” Wade jokes, managing to get a chuckle out of Yukio and a smile from Ellie that he can’t see.

“We’ll be there tomorrow,” Ellie confirms, with a relieved sigh following.

“Great. See you then. Try to get some sleep, you don’t wanna be exhausted when you see her again.”

“Alright. Thanks again, man.”

“No problem.” Wade hangs up, and Ellie and Yukio lay back, unsure of how to sleep in the same bed without you. The two of them, between their electricity and fire abilities, produced too much heat to cuddle each other. You typically acted as a buffer between them, allowing them to be close to each other (and you) with no discomfort.

“Do you wanna hold hands?” Yukio offers.

“Mine are all sweaty,” Ellie admits.

“Mine too.”

They hold hands.

“Remember when Y/N went on that roller coaster with us? I think she was the most scared, she held our hands so tight.”

“Yeah. ‘It’s different when it’s me!’” Ellie playfully imitates you.

Yukio giggles. “She really is the best, isn’t she?”

“You’re both the best.”

“No, you’re both the best.”

“Maybe we’re all the best. That’s why we’re all together. No one else is worthy,” Ellie jokes.  

“Something like that,” Yukio replies. “I like remembering her. We should do it a lot more. Maybe tell her this stuff instead of assuming she knows it, ‘cause what if she had died and she didn’t know? What if she died because of me and she didn’t know that I love her, I love her so much…?” Her voice breaks a little bit.

“I love her too. And I love you.”

“I love you too. I miss her.”

“Me too,” Ellie agrees. “Remember when you two did that play together? What was it, uh…?”

“Little Shop of Horrors… She was adorable as Seymara. It was awesome that they let us gender-swap Seymour so we could play him and Audrey.”

“Well, your duet during auditions was amazing. I wish I would’ve tried out, I could’ve played a hobo, or Audrey 2. But I was too scared. Should’ve listened to Y/N.”

“We could all stand to listen to Y/N more,” Yukio reminds her girlfriend. “Oh, oh, remember when we saw The Nun and she got so scared at that one part that she ran out of the theater and back in at super-speed? We didn’t even know it happened until she told us after.”

Ellie finally laughs, at this. It was one of her favorite memories of you. You’d insisted on seeing the movie, but at the first jump-scare, you fled. However, you returned. Outside of the humor, that was Ellie’s favorite part: You came back and faced it.

“We should get to sleep, like Wade said,” Ellie suggests.

“Agreed. I love you. Goodnight. Sweet dreams, honey.”

“Goodnight. I love you, too. Sweet dreams, babe.”

Ellie doesn’t have sweet dreams. She dreams of the events of the night, but this time, you die. Wade holds a charred, smoldering body in his hands.

She lurches forward when she wakes up, still crying like she was in her dream.

“Baby, baby, sweetheart, what happened?” Yukio, already awake, rushes from the attached bathroom to Ellie’s side.

“It- It was last night, b-but Y/N died, and she was all burnt up, crumbling,” Ellie pants, sobs breaking up her breaths.

“Shh, shh… She’s okay, Y/N’s okay… We’re gonna see her today… Shhh…” Yukio repeats the sentiment, holding Ellie, who is sitting on the bed, to her and rocking back and forth steadily.

“What happened?” Sally asks sleepily, awoken by the commotion. “Did her, uh… Did her condition get worse?”

“She’s gonna be alright, Skids. Ellie just had a nightmare about what happened, that’s all.”

“Damn, that sucks. Tell Y/N I said to get well soon.” Sally goes back to sleep after saying this, and both Ellie and Yukio get ready to leave.

After this, they check in with Piotr and leave for the hospital, taking a cab there. They wait in the waiting room for visiting hours to begin, and Wade confirms at the desk that they’re allowed to see you.

Ellie and Yukio follow Wade down the halls to your room. You’re awake, sort of.

“Hey guys…” You give them the sleepiest, sweetest grin that makes it more than worth the wait.

“I’m gonna go steal some jello, B-R-B!” Wade announces, exiting swiftly after.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Ellie says, close to crying again.

“Hey, hey, none of that. Look, look… They tell me I’m gonna match Wade.” You hold up your leg, which is heavily bandaged, before letting it flop down on the bed, as if it’s too heavy to lift. Ellie realizes you must be under general anesthesia of some sort. It’d explain your grogginess.

“I’m sorry,” Yukio says. “I should’ve told you or Ellie about the sleepover, I-”

“Sleepover? Right, right, with Jubilee. Don’t blame yourself for me not sending you a text before running into a burning building. Damn, those anti-mutant freaks can’t even bomb a building right. There’s hundreds of people in there and the only person they managed to even injure is me. Damn it, why couldn’t they have gotten that shithead Quentin or something? I’m kidding, I’m kidding…”

Ellie laughs too hard, so glad to hear you make your twisted jokes that she’d usually scoff at, that Yukio would usually playfully scold you for.

“You- If I’d been in there, you would’ve saved my life. You thought I was in danger, and you just… Ran in, without even thinking. I’m- I’m so grateful,” Yukio says.

“Babe, of course. What else would I do?” You ask.

“I don’t know, stay safe and not be stupid?” Ellie mumbles. Now that she knows you’re okay, she can be angry at you for being so reckless.

“You ran after her too, jackass. I’m just faster,” you defend yourself with a scoff.

“Yeah, and you passed out due to smoke inhalation faster, too,” Ellie argues. You sigh.

“I’m not gonna apologize, Ellie,” you make it known. “I don’t regret going in there. What if she’d really been in there? What if someone else was? If I died in there, I wouldn’t have regretted it, because it was the right thing to do.”

“Forgive me if that sounds more suicidal than heroic,” Ellie says with a roll of her eyes, not even hinting at what a hurtful thing that was to say, considering her nightmare last night.

“Y/N,” Yukio scolds, though there’s no malice in her tone, just frustration. “You shouldn’t say things like that! Ellie just had a bad dream about you dying in the fire last night! She cried in her sleep and even after she woke up!”

“Yukio,” Ellie hisses. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone.” So much for hiding it.

“Babe,” you fret, reaching out to stroke her cheek with your bandaged hand. She turns away at the sight of it, not letting you touch her. If she’d just been faster, maybe she could’ve helped you get out sooner, made you realize you couldn’t stay, that Yukio was somewhere else.

You can’t hide your expression of disappointment at her withdrawal.

“I’m happy you’re both okay, and I am sorry for worrying you and scaring you, just not for what I did,” you admit.

“Fine. I guess I can deal with that,” Ellie decides. She hates herself for being so selfish and afraid, and even hates you a little for not being those things as well. You could’ve stayed safe with her. You didn’t. You sacrificed your life for the potential of saving someone else’s, and you didn’t even regret it, despite only hurting yourself. “I just- You could’ve died.”

“Yeah, I could’ve, but I didn’t, so… Get over it,” you say. You’d tried to be patient, light-hearted, but between Ellie’s pushiness, your nausea from the anesthesia, and your overall exhaustion, it’s not easy to keep up. “It’s not like you almost died.”

“But didn’t I?” Ellie responds, the words almost silently slipping out of her mouth before she can stop them.

You sigh, reaching out to her again. She takes your hand this time, Yukio already holding your other and just watching, grateful to see you again after being so worried.

“I’m sorry we haven’t really chatted much other than arguing, but can I sleep some more?” you request. “You guys can stay in here if you don’t mind the increased potential for drooling and the fact that I might wake up and vomit, but I’m very drowsy.”

“Of course you can sleep, honey bunny. You need more rest so you can heal up faster,” Yukio agrees, while Ellie nods. You yawn before closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep.

You fail at this task, trying for minutes that felt like hours. You open your eyes, looking around. Ellie’s fallen asleep, still clutching your hand, but Yukio is awake, just watching both of you. Careful not to wake up your other girlfriend, you scoot away from Yukio, attempting to make a space for her. She squeezes in, your bodies eventually overlapping as you cuddle.

“I love you,” Yukio quietly says. “Last night, Ellie and I stayed up pretty late, just talking about you. Our worries about you, our favorite memories of you, what we love about you… It really helped us calm down, but I realized that we should be telling you these things that we appreciate about you, not just remembering them when you almost die.”

“Babe, you guys make me feel plenty appreciated.” It’s true. They give you lots of praise, and you them. Despite any other flaws in the relationship, that was a strong attribute of it.

“But- But still. What if you had died, not knowing exactly how much we love you? How much I love you?”

“Love, I promise I know. I love you two, too. Let’s just cuddle and try to relax. I’ve got an x-ray later.”

“Okay…” Yukio agrees, and once you’re in the safety of her arms, you both fall asleep.

Everything is gonna be okay.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 18

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 18 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————

Len wakes up back at the warehouse.

His eyes hurt, his head aches, and everything is quiet again; he’s not sure how exactly Lewis is doing the impromptu surgeries required for the glass implant, but he doesn’t really want to know, either. If he survives, he’ll probably have to get tested for infection.

He hopes that Mick got his message, but he wouldn't know; he can't see or hear a damn thing.

Len officially hates glass.

If he gets out of here, he's going to go smash in a few windows, just because. Mick will help.

Len needs to not think of Mick right now.

Of course, he didn't send much more than a disguised plea for help. What will Mick even do? Len's the planner, usually, and he's all out of ideas. Sadly, it's not that unusual around his dad. Sheer terror does that.

He's learned to force himself to plan out heists despite that horrible freezing terror, but rescuing himself from his father before he gets forced to resurrect a violent ghost wasn't really a situation he'd encountered before.

"Time to get cracking, son," Lewis says cheerfully. "You've slept all night, and we still have to plan out the rest of that break in."

Len nods and staggers into a standing position.

"Don't forget to get us the remaining things we need," Lewis reminds him. "Gear, the tech guy, all of that."

Len nods again.

His head hurts and he feels sick and sluggish, probably the remnants of improperly applied anesthetics – or at least rohypnol, if his dad didn't much care about the pain caused but didn't want Len forming short term memories of it – still coursing through his system. It makes gathering up things difficult. There's plenty to arrange: his gun he has, but he still needs to gather up new guns of the old-fashioned variety for his dad, key cards to pass front desk security (just a pick-up, thankfully – Lewis apparently arranged it last night while Len was sleeping off some surgery), some spare uniforms, the trash can to hide the equipment...

Shit. They still need a new tech guy. Alternatively, Len might be able to get through the door using the cold gun, but he'd been planning on using it on the lasers and he doesn't want to run down the charge –

"Snart!"

Len blinks.

That's – Barry.

Not Mick.

Why is Barry here?

His brain is moving slow, so he just stares for a long moment.

"Barry," he says, almost uncertainly. Has he started hallucinating or something?

"Wow," Barry says, studying him. "Deena was right, you look like crap."

No, that delicacy and tact could only belong to Nora's boy.

"What are you doing here, Barry?" Len asks. His message must have gone awry; Deena must have gone straight to Barry instead of to Mick. Barry was supposed to tell Mick what was going on, and then Mick was supposed to come get him. Barry was not supposed to be here.

At least Barry doesn't seem to hold a grudge about last time, which is more than Len expected.

"We know about Lisa," Barry says. “I know your dad put a bomb in her, too. He told you he’d kill her if you didn’t help him, right?”

Len nods a little jerkily. That’s – they know. He doesn't know how they know, but they know. That’s infinitely better than he might have hoped.

“Caitlin and Cisco are working on getting it out,” Barry assures him.

Len has to close his eyes for a brief moment. Lisa. Lisa will be safe. Caitlin and Cisco – they’re good, they’re really good. They haven’t failed yet.

Visons of Lisa staggering, hand flying to her head as she moans in pain flash before his eyes. Now, at last, there’s a chance that that future won’t happen –

But he can’t risk angering his dad with any refusals, not until he gets confirmation that the bomb is out.

“Why’re you here, then?” he asks again. "If it ain't done?"

“To tell you that we're working on it,” Barry says promptly. “And also to tell you –”

“I hope you’ve got that gun of yours ‘cause –” Lewis says, walking back into the room, then stops, his eyes narrowing as he catches sight of Barry. His hand dips down into his pocket and Len tenses up. “Who the hell’s this?”

“Um,” Barry says.

Len is frozen, staring at his dad's hand like it's snake. He needs to think of something - some excuse - some reason for Barry to be here - something -

Barry plasters on a big smile and says, “Well, uh, Lenny said you needed new tech. What’s up, I’m Sam –”

"Son, you brought him in?" Lewis asks, sounding skeptical, which Len can't blame him for. What is Barry thinking? And how'd he know they needed new tech - wait, no, Barry's a CSI. They must've found the body Len dumped yesterday. “You telling me you think this kid can crack a Draycon keypad?”

"Sure," Barry says, still grinning like an idiot. "I did help Snart steal the Kanhdaq Dynasty Diamond from Central City Museum last year, and that big boy was locked up behind an AmerTek Industries Phase Three Suppression Door with a Draycon XL-1218 keypad. No problemo. Zero sweat."

Oh, God. Barry's impression of a criminal, assuming that's what he's doing, is...painful, that's what it is. Sure, he wanted a reason for Barry to be there, but this means that Lewis will want Barry in on the heist. And now both Barry and Lewis are looking at Len to confirm or deny Barry's story.

Len thinks letting Barry join in is an utterly terrible idea, but it's too late for that now. Lewis has seen Barry's face. Barry can't flash away now without revealing his identity, and now that he’s in – well. Len’s not the only one who thinks the only way out is in a box. There's no way for Barry to pull out without a bullet.

"Couldn't have done it without him," Len lies, giving the confirmation that they were both, for separate reasons, expecting.

Lewis studies Barry skeptically. “You sure you can do it?”

"Man, Draycon’s my jam." Barry pauses a second, then adds, "Yo."

Len closes his eyes in pained second-hand embarrassment.

Oddly, that seems to be what convinces Lewis of Barry's authenticity. Maybe he has enough faith in Len’s ability to select personnel to think that Len would only tolerate such an idiot if he was actually good at what he was doing.

"Okay," Lewis says. "One test, and we can gear up. Let’s go."

"Right now?!" Barry yelps. He was clearly hoping for more time.

“You got a problem with that?”

“Uh, no. All good. Can’t wait.”

"Yeah, same," Lewis says, and smashes a piece of wood into Barry's arm, knocking him down on the ground.

"Dad!" Len exclaims, unable to stop himself.

"What?" Lewis asks, smirking at Len.

"He – he uses that arm to crack the security systems," Len says. It’s a feeble response, but he can’t let his father know he cares about anything other than the job. Certainly not that he cares for anyone; that just makes them into a weapon Lewis can use against him. See what he's done with Lisa, and she's his daughter - he wouldn't have any restraint when it came to Barry. “Doesn’t make sense to fuck his arm up right before a job.”

"Yeah, what the hell, man?" Barry asks, rubbing his arm.

"Sorry about that," Lewis says, insincere as always. "Just needed to be sure you're, ah, solidly with us. Test over; won't need to do it again." He looks at both of them. "Gear up. We're heading out."

And he turns and leaves in the direction of the garage, probably to go get the car because he doesn't trust Len with it alone right now.

"Okay, but seriously, what the hell was that?" Barry repeats, looking at Len. “He’s nuts. Is he nuts?”

Len shakes his head. He understands his dad; he always did, far too well. Lewis is as sane as they come; it's just that he's an absolute bastard. He crouches down beside Barry, pretending to be helping him up. "He thought you were a ghost," he murmurs, keeping his voice low just in case his dad looks back at them. "Needed to check you weren't."

"But Mick –"

"That's just Mick, and he knows what Mick looks like. You know what I can do – the criminal underworld doesn't. So just play cool for now, since you've gone and gotten yourself stuck yourself into this. You can't back out until the job's done. Where is Mick, anyway? I was..."

Len trails off. How to say 'hoping to see him and not you' politely? Hell, it’s not even that Mick is notably more useful than Barry with his super-speed, Barry’s clearly the more valuable asset here, but damnit, he wants Mick. Even aside from his power and his strength, Mick makes Len feel grounded, makes him less afraid, lets him think again. He’d be able to figure out a way out of this, if he had Mick by his side.

"That's what I was trying to say earlier!" Barry exclaims. "He can't come – he tried, he's been trying, but there's something around this area that ghosts can't enter."

"There's what?"

"Well, it's not that they can't so much as they really, really don't want to? Like, most ghosts hit the area and just nope out – Mick spent a decent bit of effort aiming to get to you, before we convinced him you wouldn't want that – "

"I don't want that," Len says immediately. Without Len to replenish him, Mick could fade away – in a thousand years or so, given how much life Len’s already given him, but still. He’d fade away a lot quicker if he spent it all on stupid shit like trying to get through some sort of anti-ghost force field.

What the hell. Something Cabrera did, maybe? Sure, Len thought that mediums mostly went into for possessions and summonings and banishments and whatnot, but what does Len know about how mediums work?

"And, like, it moves around? The anti-ghost area. It's one of the ways we were able to figure out where you were: the zone went out of here some ways, then came back, and we figured you had to be in the area because no ghost could find you, and that was the only area without ghosts. Even ghosts who are located in a given area just run away when the field comes close. No one wants or can be anywhere in the area."

Len frowns. That doesn’t sound like it could be Cabrera; he was holed up in the hotel the whole time, didn’t even know about where they were moving or where they were located. Lewis? No - if Lewis had something like that, he would have bragged about it already…

"Sooo, we were wondering if you knew what was up? If it's some sort of anti-ghost tech, maybe a meta or a whatever-it-is you are..."

"No," Len says, closing his eyes in pain as the realization hits him. It’s not Cabrera. "It's me."

"You?"

"Me," Len says, opening his eyes again and looking at Barry. "I'm trying to protect myself. Sub-consciously."

"What do you mean?"

"My dad figured out a way to - to -" Len can't say it. "Listen, I can't see or hear ghosts right now."

"Wait, what? You mean, like, at all?"

"At all. He reduced it to let me talk to Deena - tell her not to come back until the job's done, by the way -"

"She figured; it's cool, don't worry."

"—and then he put it back.” Len opts to omit the details, since they still turn his stomach. “So I can't do anything with ghosts right now. See, talk, hear..."

"Ouch."

"Way I figure it, that includes the unquiet dead."

"Oh, crap. That’s bad."

"No kidding. I've been worrying about it for a while. So if I had to guess, I'd probably say that I'm unconsciously repelling all ghosts as an act of self-defense. Which means that Mick – or anyone else – can't come help me."

Len always was the best at fucking things up for himself. Better than anyone.

Though Tomio had managed to come through – but that was only because he was being summoned by Cabrera. Looks like Len can only repel ghosts to a certain point, and that point ends where Cabrera’s power begins.

Great.

"Deena says it took you a long time to even hear her," Barry says, nodding. "And that you were acting super weird. But now that I know that, I'll text Cisco; he'll tell the rest. We'll have to keep this rescue mission living-only."

"Lisa..."

"We're working on it."

Len nods. He can't let Lisa be hurt.

"So, your dad's after diamonds?"

"No, he wants me to resurrect a Santini Don known for ruthlessness and torture," Len says dryly. "We're getting the diamonds as a part of that."

Barry blinks. It's a testament to his time as a superhero that he just accepts it and processes it. "Okay, I'll go with that. But - what do diamonds have to do with..?"

"Nothing, really. I was just buying time." Len's mental clock pings. Lewis will be expecting them to have finished by now. "And we're out of it. Get dressed and meet me in the car."

Barry changes in a swirl of crackling light, gathers the things as Len instructs, and they meet Lewis out front before he can start to get suspicious.

Dressed as janitors, they head into the building. Barry is surprisingly helpful, especially when the keycards Lewis obtained fail to work and he reaches for his gun, only for Barry to small talk their way through the security desk.

"Maybe I should become a Rogue," he gleefully tells Len in an undertone with a grin.

Len rolls his eyes.

He does feel better, having an ally by his side, even if it's not Mick. Even if Barry can't use his powers in front of Lewis.

Well, sort of not use his powers, anyway. Barry breaks the lock by virtue of trying every combination of the safe in under a minute, but luckily Lewis is on watch duty, as, technically, is Len, so the little sparking blur of Barry’s hands doesn’t get spotted.

"Boom!" Barry crows when it clicks open. “Told you Draycon was my jam!”

Len can't help a faint smirk. Barry's morals aren't anywhere near as good as he likes to think they are – the joy of victory sometimes makes him forget that he just committed breaking and entering. Really, Len will have to take advantage of that one day.

"Nice job, Sam," Lewis says, nodding for Len to go ahead of him, which Len does, reaching for his cold gun for the next part of the proceedings. "Good to go out on a high note."

Len's blood runs cold and he spins around, only for it to be too late. Lewis has his gun out and even as Len tries to reach for him, he fires.

Barry spins from the impact and falls.

Len stares in horror. He wants to check the body; he wants to see if Barry managed to use his speed to evade it, somehow, without any lightning; he wants –

"Move it, son," Lewis barks.

– he wants not to be here anymore.

But Lewis still has Lisa.

"Sorry, Barry," he whispers, and follows Lewis.

The cold gun freezes the lasers without difficulty, as expected, and Lewis cracks the safe. It takes him two minutes longer than he boasted it would, which means the alarm resets and goes off.

Len doesn't care. Maybe the police will put an end to this. Maybe they'll shoot their way out. He doesn't know.

God, he hopes the STAR Labs crew has figured out how to get the bomb out of Lisa.

"Got them," Lewis says with satisfaction, pouring the diamonds into a bag. "Let's get out of here."

Len follows mutely.

But then there’s the Flash.

Len has never been so happy to see that stupid outfit in his life.

“Only place you’re going is back to Iron Heights, Lewis,” Barry says with all his usual superhero bravado.

He must have caught the bullet without letting off any lightning sparks that could give him away. Thank God.

Lewis sneers. “I don’t think so,” he says. “Shoot him, son.”

Len hesitates. If he freezes Barry, even only from the waist down, Lewis will know better than to think the ice will finish the job this time around; he’ll put one right in Barry’s head, just to be sure.

Lewis scowls at Len's hesitation and pulls out the detonator. “Kill him," he growls, "or you’ll never see your sister alive again.”

Len lifts up his cold gun and aims it at Barry.

He still hesitates. He doesn’t want to do this – he likes Barry, for all that the kid’s a dumbass superhero. They’re – friends, maybe, if Len remembered what it was like to have those. He doesn't want to kill him.

He hesitates long enough, enough time for Barry to get away if he ran, but Barry’s not running; Barry’s – listening?

Why is Barry not running?!

“Son…”

Len knows that tone. He knows that warning.

He can’t risk Lisa.

Not even for Barry.

Len raises the gun again, and this time, this time he’s going to do it, this time he’s going to fire, he’s going to –

“Bomb’s out!” Barry exclaims, hand on his ear where the transmitter to his team is. “Lisa’s safe!”

Len’s shoulders go slack with relief.

Safe.

She's safe.

He’s overcome with relief, numbed by it, still numbed by whatever sedatives Lewis gave him earlier, slow to understand, slow to feel, slow to react.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t move fast enough.

“Maybe my daughter is,” Lewis says, realizing what's going on the same second Len did but reacting differently, his face twisting into an ugly sneer, rage overtaking all common sense the way it always does when he’s crossed. “But my traitorous son isn’t.”

He pushes the detonator.

Len can hear a high-pitched whine and wonders for a moment where it's coming from.

And then he has the answer, the pitch growing loud and louder, accompanied by a terrible vibration that shakes him from the inside out, like a horrific drill, right there inside his head – it’s not just glass in there, not just glass to block the ghosts; he should have known better, he should have realized – fiber-optic glass, Lewis said with a smirk, right at the start, Len should have known -

Len drops his gun and falls to his knees, clutching at his head, fingers pressing painfully in against his skull like he's trying to reach inside his own head to make that sound stop, that horrible high pitched sound, that vibration, unable to stop himself even though he knows what’s coming – the increasing agony – and then - soon - the explosion –

“Stop!”

Lewis flicks the switch and the plain slowly fades. Len slowly lowers his hands. His face is wet. He hopes it’s from the pain. He'd hate to find that he's somehow managed to be disappointed, again, by his dad.

“– and if you don’t let us go, he’s dead,” Lewis is saying. Barry has his hands up, half calming, half surrender; under his suit, his eyes are wide and round and horrified. “What’s it gonna be, Flash?”

“I’ll go,” Barry says, swallowing hard. “But I’m not helping you with anything.”

“Just go,” Lewis says, sneering and then there’s a crackle of lightning and Barry’s gone, and Lewis is laughing. “Superhero my ass,” he says. “That wasn’t all that tough.”

And then he abruptly reaches out, grabs Len by the collar, and slams him face-first into the wall. Len gasps from the unexpected pain, but otherwise makes no sound; he knows that pained noises only spur his father on. “Nice one,” Lewis observes dispassionately. “Working with the Flash to save Lisa – you must’ve worked that one out when we got the blueprints, huh? Too bad it didn’t work out for you.”

Len swallows. He’s still on his knees. He hates being on his knees.

“Now get up,” Lewis orders. “We’re going out.”

“The cops –” Len starts.

“Not a problem.”

Len just collects his cold gun and follows along mutely. There really is no stopping his dad. He can’t do it, Mick can’t do it, not even Barry can do it.

His only hope is that Mick and Barry can come up with something together.

“Hands up!” a cop shouts the second they step outside. “You’re surrounded.”

Len glances at Lewis, who nods.

They both raise their hands. The cops rush up to them and grab them both, handcuffing them; Len can see Barry hovering in the distance, watching, looking relieved. But Lewis seems unbothered by the whole thing, which doesn’t sit right. That means he’s got a plan.

Only question is, what is it?

“I’ll take ‘em,” one of the cops says, and the others nod and help shove Len and Lewis into the back seat of one of the cop cars, carelessly tossing their guns at their feet which is such an unbelievable breach of protocol that Len abruptly understands what's going on.

This is Lewis’ plan – the part he hadn’t told Len about, of course.

The car starts up and the two cops in front drive off – in the wrong direction for the police precinct. Or anything, really.

Anything except for the warehouse that they were in before.

Len leans his still-aching head against the window of the back of the car, ignoring the handcuffs that bind him.

Corrupt cops.

Of course.

Lewis’ old favorite standby, next to violence. Len should have known.

“That should put a cork in the Flash for a bit,” Lewis says with satisfaction, and Len wishes he didn’t agree. Barry believes in the law, and in the cops, and it wouldn’t occur to him to think of corruption – at least not until he gets back to the CCPD headquarters and no one’s seen hide nor hair of either Lewis or Len.

So it comes down to this. To Len, with the glass and the bomb in his head, and his dad, and the question of selling his soul to resurrect a man that even in life was vicious and terrible.

“I’m not gonna do it,” Len says quietly.

"What's that?"

"You heard me. I ain’t gonna do it. Tomio. I’m not gonna help you with him."

"Son," Lewis says. He sounds so disappointed, just the way he always does when Len doesn't go along with him. The way he does right before he shows Len exactly why he shouldn't do stupid things like disobey or speak up or – anything, really. Right before he has to teach Len another lesson.

"I don't care if you have a bomb in my head," Len says. "I really don't. Hurt me or kill me, whatever. Now that I know Lisa’s safe, you ain’t got nothing on me but myself, and that ain’t anything I’m not willing to give up to stop this stupid plan. I'm not gonna do what Tomio wants."

"He'll make us rich and powerful –"

"He'll make himself rich and powerful. He'll make you dead, and me a slave. I won't do it."

Lewis grunts.

Len waits for a response.

He doesn't get one. Lewis just keeps quiet the entire drive, until the cops reach the warehouse they’ve been using, stepping out to remove their handcuffs and nodding at Lewis before leaving them alone. They’re not gone, though; just hovering by the car. Giving them some privacy to talk.

Len eyes Lewis warily, but Lewis seems to be thinking of something.

"Son," Lewis finally say.

"Yes?"

Lewis turns and punches Len in the gut, more or less how Len expected he'd react, then, when Len doubles over involuntarily, backhands him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

"Never talk back to me like that again," Lewis says, his voice grating and harsh. "Now get up."

"I still ain’t doing it," Len says, picking himself up.

"Of course you are," Lewis says. "You've had your little moment to state your piece, it's over now. You're doing it."

"Dad –"

"I'm only giving you one more chance, boy," Lewis snarls.

"Before what? Before you hit me – again?"

"Before I hand you over to Cabrera," Lewis says, and Len goes cold. Possessions and summonings and banishment, that's what mediums did, he remembers thinking that before, but that's enough of a threat by itself. "He says he had – ways. To make you behave, if I couldn't."

"How?" Len croaks. The images of that terrible blackness, spreading over Cabrera's face, crawling into his mouth, his eyes, his ears – the memory is nauseating. Could he do that to Len, somehow?

"He said there's ways to deal with necromancers like you, son. Ways that they can be bound by their blood," Lewis tells him, and smiles. "That's why they need me, you see. We've got the same blood. So maybe Don Tomio won’t be knocking me off all that quick."

"I've never heard of anything like that."

"So?" Lewis asks, disinterested. "Doesn't mean it won't work. Ghosts only need so much consent, apparently; he said after a few – what'd he say – after a few nibbles, you'll be begging for the chance to do the job."

"You're going to feed me to the unquiet dead," Len says, horror seeping into his voice. "Until I'm too weak to resist whatever it is Cabrera has in mind."

"You could just do it," Lewis points out. He doesn't deny that that's the plan.

Len thinks of the resurrection, the theft of the black book, the easiest thing a necromancer can do – and the one thing they can't. The secret he kept so badly, the gift he didn't even give to Mick.

He thinks of his mother, dying on the floor, life pulled out of her piece by piece by the unquiet dead, the worst of all possible deaths to his mind, the death he's always feared most.

He thinks of his sister’s life, held by a string, a string held by this man – this man who is her father, who should love her, but doesn’t.

The man who drained the life from his mother until she didn't have the will to fight back.

The man who would sell his son to a fate he fears more than anything.

Len looks at Lewis. “No,” he says.

Lewis sneers. "So be it," he replies, and looks to the policemen standing behind Len. "Grab him."

[fapangel]

The North Korean government is allegedly the largest and most sophisticated international organized crime enterprise in the world, with a focus on smuggling all kinds of shit all over the place. How confident are we in the ability to prevent unconventional delivery methods of assorted WMD in the event of escalation?

That’s a very good point, and speaks directly to the entire looming issue of North Korean asymmetric tactics, infiltration, and special-operations forces. 

There’s two huge things weighing in our favor right now - chemical weapons are very hard to properly distribute, and their nuclear devices are crude, bulky, heavy and easily detectable. 

Chemical weapons present several problems, the main one being distribution. North Korean agents would have to get their hands on a light crop-dusting aircraft (not terribly difficult) but they’d have to get two or three to make a truly sizable impact, and they’d have to overfly dense urban centers at the right altitude for optimal distribution. In this modern day and age, a small flight of crop dusters - or even one - heading into downtown wherever, well below the tops of the skyscrapers (absolutely screamingly verboten to aircraft,) and a damn good ways away from any farmland they’d have business being over, would attract immediate attention - from armed air defense fighters. The lessons of 9/11 haven’t been lost on the world, and this exact scenario has been discussed more than once. Then there’s the difficulty of infiltrating sufficient quantities of the chemical weapon itself. Smuggling it in in pure concentrate form would help greatly, but if they do, then they’ll need to process/prepare it via dilution or whatnot without killing themselves… which would require suits and equipment they’d also have to acquire somehow. Against a modern, wealthy, stable nation with top-notch border security and competent intel agencies like Japan and South Korea, this is no simple task. 

Nukes present their own problems. Things like the W54 warhead and the proposed Special Atomic Demolition Munition (the prototypical “backpack nuke”) represent the peak of American nuclear weapons refinement - the W54 is pretty much the smallest nuke you can possibly make, the very limits of criticality, and that kind of miniaturization is neither easy nor cheap. The consequences of North Korea having that kind of weapon - which they would instantly sell to any asshole with hard cash, as they are wont to do - are dire enough that I can say with confidence that not even the Russians would willingly give them that kind of tech - the city that’d go up in flames might damn well be their own. 

So we can presume the North Koreans will be stuck with their current devices, which are all low yield (20kt or so, since they’ve only just developed the H-bomb, and would have had infiltrated their earlier primitive fission bombs,) bulky, and not very well shielded or “hidden.” The passive radiation that weapons-grade plutonium gives off can be detected by sensors designed for such jobs - and then there’s the size and bulk of the thing. This is also something that gives every security/spy service on Earth nightmares, and it’s absolutely the most closely-watched element of North Korea’s clandestine services and related smuggling. Typically, North Korean smuggling requires the tacit allowance or underhanded co-operation of other states to get away with their smuggling - such as Egypt, which was recently busted before they could take delivery of some 5,000 practice RPG-7 warheads probably destined for their regular army troops - or Syria and Iran, which have done a brisk weapons trade with North Korea. Infiltrating an atomic warhead into someone’s backyard who absolutely doesn’t want you there is no simple task. It can be done - witness the snatch-and-grab abductions of Japanese citizens right off their own shores by North Korean agents - but once you get the bomb in, your agents have to stay hidden, somehow. Maintaining a permanent presence like that is not very easy without some official foothold in the nation (i.e. an embassy,) and North Korea’s embassies are often rented out for parties (one of them even ran a goddamn slaughterhouse) and other things to make money for the cash-strapped regime (or did, until Trump’s pressure saw many of them closed recently.) When you’re using your embassies to host wedding parties because you need cash that badly, using them to support clandestine agents squirreling away atom bombs in-country…? Lets just say that it’s one hell of a stretch to believe that they could get that past the Five Eyes alliance and the vast resources - including personnel - that they can bring to bear on that problem. 

This does, however, raise the specter of special operations forces in more traditional asymmetric applications - i.e. on the Korean peninsula itself. Much hurf has been blurfed over North Korea having the “largest special operations force in the world,” (it’s commonly acknowledged that they probably count every cook and courier as an OPERATOR to puff up that number,) and the dire tales of their mad-villain preparations (like digging TWENTY TUNNELS UNDER THE DMZ) are constantly repeated. 

First, let’s apply a dose of reality. North Korean soldiers are commonly used for manual labor around the nation - they’re as much a civil work force and/or the workforce as they are a military one - and even the armed forces, which receive priority in all things, never get enough to eat. Any picture of a North Korean soldier taken clandestinely shows that they’re malnourished as hell. Assuming the special operations forces get the best treatment of all, then you have a group that’s primarily remarkable because they actually get fed on-par with, oh, everyone else in the civilized world. 

That doesn’t mean we should underestimate North Korea’s special forces, especially considering how completely brainwashed, fanatical and suicidally aggressive they can be - but neither should we fear them or credit them with prowess to the point of refraining from our own offensive action out of fear or apprehension. We must remember that Allied special forces have the three massive benefits of co-operative training, actual combat experience and proper leadership. North Korean commandos brainwashing makes them dangerous, but zealots are rarely fantastic tacticians - a dead martyr might take one MG team with him, but he can’t help his team flank the next one. Plus, the ROK special forces are legendarily terrifying motherfuckers that have fought with NATO forces in wars since Vietnam, and regularly do co-operative training with US/Australian special forces that’ve been fighting in every clime and place pretty much everywhere for decades - to say nothing of the 16 years of counter-terrorism operations worldwide since the Twin Towers fell. All the zealotry and obstacle-course jumping in the world can’t trump that. 

But there’s a final consideration - actually getting them to their objectives. Their current airborne plan is to use Anatov AN-2 biplanes to paradrop units in South Korea, counting on the relatively small RCS of the Anatov to conceal them. Against vaccum-tube radars of eras past, this might’ve worked, but modern radars can pick up even artillery shells in flight - and many of those counter-battery radars are also capable of area air-search, as well. Anyone trying to cross the DMZ in those suicide tugs are as good as dead, and survivors will only get through via dint of luck and limited SAM magazines - to hit the ground scattered and without enough immediate support to avoid being mopped up piecemeal. 

Then there’s the magic tunnels - which I’m calling bullshit on. Some of the claims - including tunnels that go “straight to Seoul” - don’t even pass the laugh test. (The latter tunnel would produce so much waste dirt that it’d make a new mountain.) Also consider that technologies such as ground-sonar (as seen in Jurassic Park) are commonplace and highly refined these days, and that coalition forces have been dealing with insurgents hiding in deeply buried tunnel networks for almost two decades now - not counting our experiences in Vietnam - and I’d say the myth of twenty undiscovered tunnels that can move hojillions of troops under the DMZ in hours that we haven’t found is bullshit at worst and deliberate misinfo aimed at the Norks at best. 

The biggest threat - and the one the Norks have the most practice with - is infiltration via watercraft, an especially attractive option given the peninsular nature of Korea and the shallow seas on either side. It’s estimated that they can sealift up to five thousand troops behind the DMZ via various means. A great number of North Korean spec-ops insertion craft have been observed or discovered, including semi-submersible vehicles carrying defensive torpedoes, mock fishing boats with opening stern-ramps to let out landing craft, and conventional insertion from subs or mini-subs. Most troubling is the high number - dozens - of small coastal naval bases the North Koreans maintain for launching light craft like these (including their usual small gunboats and missile boats.) 

While coalition air and sea supremacy will be largely unquestioned, DPRK forces will try to challenge them long enough to let the “small fry” slip through in numbers sufficient to be effective. Fortunately, there’s a way to put those small bases out of action - mines.  

The United States has long operated “Quickstrike” mines; just (another) strap-on kit to convert normak Mk-8X dumb bombs into sea mines. Recently however, they added GPS capability to them - combined with the glide-bomb wings of the Australian JDAM-ER, it turns the Quickstrike mine family into precision standoff munitions. This vastly increases the efficiency of the mines, as you can lay them out in any pattern desired, rather than having to drop X number in Y area to achieve roughly the desired density. It also makes them standoff munitions, allowing a single B-52 sortie to mine waters from up to 80 kilometers away, keeping the big bomber safely away from hostiles (at least, not RIGHT OVER them.) It also helps that the enemies won’t know they’ve been visited by aircraft at all. With a CEP on the bottom of only six meters or so, this’ll allow optimal distribution of mines to take out anything that sorties - Quickstrikes are some of the best available and have all the nasty fuzing features to customize what you kill. A few B-52s can demonstratively shut down these DPRK sea bases (and their underground sub and missile boat bases, for that matter.) We’ll have to come back and hit them later, of course, but in the initial hours it’s enough to neutralize the threat while most of our airpower is going after much more crucial targets (WMD and SRBMs.) Even better, the accuracy trivializes after-the-fact minesweeping (since you know where each mine landed to an accuracy of just six meters.) 

Which brings us to the last consideration - special forces in reverse, ours used against the DPRK. Not for nothing is the ROK publicly bragging about forming a “decapitation unit” to hunt down Rocket Man, and showing off their spec-ops transports at every opportunity (one was in the air during the recent B-1B jaunt over the Northern Limit Line, for example.) This serves two purposes. One, it exploits Rocket Man’s well-known (and sensible) fear of being assassinated, both pressuring him more and (hopefully) influencing him to keep more of his vaunted special-forces troops back for defense of himself and his cronies, rather than out conducting offensive ops against us. 

And two, it serves to distract him - and any troops he might retain for defense - from the real goal of these special forces. It won’t be assassinating Rocket Man, that’s for sure. In 2015 a truly massive special-forces exercise called Jade Helm was held in the US, and though it made headlines at the time for panicking all the compound-dwelling militia types, the really noteworthy thing was the sheer scale, which even SOCOM admitted to at the time. Obviously there’s not much information out there about Jade Helm (that isn’t full of shit and being spouted by retards hawking their pet conspiracy theory) but there’s enough (attributable) pictures and comments to make it clear that at least one or two sizeable helicopter-borne insertions were done, in addition to the usual cross-border infiltrations on foot. Some have suggested that the training areas involved - rural areas in arid, hilly places that are lousy with abandoned hard-rock mineshafts - point to preparation for a massive special forces assault against North Korea. 

Well, maybe. And maybe not. But do know this - the United States and its regional allies have been worried about North Korea for a long, long time, as well as Iran. These are the kinds of dire times that the military anticipates and trains endlessly for. Things like the Massive Ordinance Penetrator, which is a bomb originally destined for North Korean bunkers, upgraded to take out Iran’s deeply-buried nuclear centrifuges, and now aimed at North Korea again, demonstrate this - we’ve entire expensive weapon programs prepared for these remote but devastating eventualities. It’d be insane to think we wouldn’t prepare our ground forces in the same fashion. 

And when it comes to the unique challenges of a heavily dug-in North Korean military, well, thinking outside of the box is mandatory. Much is made of our ability (or inability) to seal up the underground tunnel-hangars they hide their SRBM TELs in… but nothing will close one of those exists off as conclusively as a platoon of Green Berets with a Carl Gustav or two. 

[caustic-synishade]

Bait

Supplies is getting low. Bait might be needed for more.

Zombie Apocalypse AU- violence and whatnot. Sorry for any nonsense lol. I'm also unable to edit this properly

  "Pretty big place," Ethan spoke under his breath, inching forward behind Mark's lead.

  "Yep... we're gonna have to split up if we want to get back to camp tonight," the lead turned to the rest of the group, all three of them, for confirmation.

  Ethan turned to Kathryn, Amy to Ethan, Kathryn to Mark. They all stared at one another before nodding in agreement.

  "You guys sure? We have the supplies to stay here for tonight," Mark raised a brow, "If you guys aren't comfortable with splitting up..."

  "Tyler's gonna worry," Kathryn sighed, leaning against the brick wall for a moment.

  "Yeah... let's just get this done, then..." The flanneled man huffed, "You all got ammo-just in case?" He seemed nervous as all hell, but everyone knew how much he worried for them.

  "Do you?" Amy raised her brow at him.

  "I'll be fine with this," Mark pointed towards the machete in his bag, then proceeded to flex while chuckling, "And these... plus, I have a few shots left in this guy," the man waved his pistol gently.

  The blond rolled her eyes, "Okay, you child. We get it. I just want you to be safe, too..."

  "We should get moving..." Ethan spoke up, nudging Mark's arm, slinking back awkwardly.

  There was a moment of hesitation before they headed off again. The town so far seemed long abandoned. There wasn't a sign of infected nor of any survivors. With scarce supplies so far, they could only hope that there was something left in the last place. It never hurt to check...

  Mark stayed low, opening the front door slowly with his sidearm at the ready. He gave a quick, but careful sweep. Nothing. It was silent. The flanneled man waited for any sound, but only the birds gave in to his demands, thankfully.

 "Okay," the man spoke softly, "Ethan, Kathryn, take this hallway. Split up each side. Amy, you and I- this way. Listen out for each other. Just yell... If we get separated, we know where to go. Don't lead anything or anyone to camp. Got it?"

  As tiring as it was to hear each time they did this, everyone knew Mark's desperation to stay alive and stay together. Everyone nodded and murmured their agreements before parting ways.

  "You sure you'll be okay, Amy?" Mark wrapped an arm around her as they walked their part.

  "You worry too much. Go do your job, I'll be fine," the blond smiled as Mark brought his lips to hers.

  "I know..." The man looked down before heading off, turning to watch her as she headed down her sector of the place, knowing she'd be fine, but still worried.

  Amy knew how to take care of herself.

---

  Mark rummaged around throughout the dressers and closets, finding only a few items of clothing that might fit someone. It was all too small for him. So far he had found one bottle of painkillers, a blessing by far, hidden in between a bed frame and the wall. There wasn't any food that he could find, and he had learned to strip search places, right down to the bare bones of a place. Nothing of trading value. At least his search wasn't entirely a bust... however, something was off. There was a soft noise from outside the room. A thump. Mark's attention was quickly taken.

  The flanneled man quietly approached the hallway, his eyes not catching anything. His gun was drawn, only 4 bullets to his name. Mark checked to make sure it was loaded. Carefully, he made his way down the corridor, glancing around for any sign of life. There was so far, nothing.

  "Amy?" Mark called quietly. There was no response, "Amy?" He called again.

  Mark made it to the end of his sector, glancing into the last room. There was no one. No sign of life. Carefully wandering in, he spotted something. There was food, canned goods just sitting there on the windowsill. Mark was immediately suspicious, but he couldn't just call out for the others. Not yet. He took no chances potentially alerting any infected for nothing.

  The flannel-loving man peered around the room, scanning the entire place with aggressive care. There was no one. No one under the bed, no one in the closets. He glanced behind him, everywhere, just to make sure he was not going to be ambushed, hoping the food was not trapped.

  Mark approached the goods cautiously, checking around the items to make sure they weren't strung up to a bomb or something. That last close call with one blowing up near him was enough to scare him straight. An entire agonizing afternoon of pulling half of a pair of scissors out of his leg without bleeding to death was not ideal.

  The man confirmed the goods were not trapped, quickly bagging them. Everything was okay. He breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, he slipped out of that room to double check everything, just in case anything useful was overlooked. A creek behind him soon stole his attention again.

  Within a moment, an arm wrapped around his throat, squeezing his windpipe shut. Another hand took his wrist to stop him from attacking. The fire escape. He forget to check the fucking fire escape.

  The writhing man was quickly dragged into the nearest room, his captor struggling to restrain him. Mark fired the gun, but the safety was still on. What a fucking idiot, he though to himself. Trying to flick the switch off, he dropped the weapon. He thought fast. Mark dared to hunt for his machete hanging out of his bag. Time was ticking. Another hand grabbed that wrist before he had a chance, stopping him from his attack. Fuck, there were two people. Then, another body appeared, masked. Bandit raid. A trap.

  "Shh, darling. Stop fighting," the masked man put a finger to where his lips would be, Mark's own pistol in the other hand.

   Like hell he'd listen. The bullheaded man swiftly kicked out his leg, making contact with his boot right into the man's dick. Leaning his head forward, he attempted to headbutt the asshole holding him, but he had no advantage. For a moment, he thought he had a chance. For a moment, he thought he'd be fine. A quick realisation hit him hard as the grip only tightened.

  A fist pounded against Mark's face, dazing him momentarily. He gasped in vain, but nothing would come through. Still being strangled. On top of his burning lungs, now he had to deal with the aching in his face. A warm sensation dripped down his cheekbone as his vision started to spin. A fist raised in his sights as the second man became visible.

  "Wait..." The masked man on the ground groaned, struggling to his feet, "Allow me..."

  The man pulled his arm back and slammed his fist against Mark's head.

---

  The world twisted in confused shapes. In and out. Black and shapes.

  "... all of their supplies..."

  Nothing was making sense. Home. He was home.

  ".... gut this asshole once we..."

  Something was wrong with the recording setup. The damn webcam was glitching again. Video was going to be delayed.

  "... take his weapon, kill that girl..."

  Amy was asleep and the stars were so bright. But now the power was out. The radio was dead.

  "... right in front of him."

---

  Mark finally was able to bring himself together. He felt he was out for hours. It had only been a few minutes.

  There was something wrong; immediately Mark took notice. Opening his eyes, all he could see was black, mind for a sliver of light in the bottom of his vision. Something was covering his eyes. He tried to move, but as he suspected, his arms wouldn't budge. It felt like his hands were tied to something, some sort of stick. Maybe a weapon. The man's arms were tied in such a way that he could barely struggle. He felt like a damn mannequin on display, secured tight. There was no way he'd worm his way free. Not on his own.

  "Shh, darling. Please, this time," the same voice from earlier whispered in his ear, "I'm going to need you to cooperate with us."

  Mark immediately hissed through the cloth tied in between his teeth. A muffled, "fuck you," could be heard amongst various indecipherable threats. Only masking the terror slightly.

  "Now, now. You want your friends alive, right?" There was silence from Mark now, "Good. We both do, then. They're still around the building, hunting for our supplies. See, you're gonna help us. You make a sound before they reach you, we will kill you and them. You cooperate and lure them in, you all live. We take your stuff. And you get to leave. All you have to do is sit here and wait," there was a chuckle. A cocky chuckle, "It's that simple."

  Mark didn't respond. All that came from him was heavy breathing. Planning his next moves carefully. He had to keep himself together. For everyone else.

  "Do you understand?" There was something cold pressed under his neck. Sharp.

 Mark nodded softly. Cautiously.

  The knife pressed harder, "Tell me."

  Mark let out a desperate, muffled, "yes," as he nodded more visibly. All he cared about was their safety...

  "Good boy," footsteps moved farther away, "Now wait. They'll be here soon."

---

  "Mark?" Amy called out softly, Ethan and Kathryn following close behind, "Mark, are you okay? Please answer me..."

  "God I hope-" Ethan mumbled.

  "He's okay," the smaller woman snapped, "He's okay..."

  "Maybe he hit his head or something. Or maybe he's just being a douche," Kathryn suggested, patrolling behind.

  "I hope..." Amy paused, seeing a figure sitting there at the end of the hallway in the last room, his back to the door. She could see an unfamiliar rifle in his hands as he appeared to just be staring outside. Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged forward towards him.

  Ethan quickly grabbed onto her shirt, pulling her back, "Wait, wait! This feels... weird."

  "Why? He probably just fell asleep. Mark!" The blond shouted.

  There wasn't a sound from him. Only breathing. Heavy breathing. He twitched at the sound of Amy's voice.

  "Amy, careful. Ethan's right..." Kathryn whispered, "He could be fucking with us, though..."

  Amy led them carefully up the hallway, sweeping for any traps. Nothing. She suspected, maybe he did just fall asleep.

  "Mark?" Amy breathed out softly as she came up behind him, "Mark, answer me."

  There was a whimper this time. The man's girlfriend quickly tugged off the hood, revealing Mark's situation. It was only then that she noticed the ropes. Seeing her boyfriend blindfolded, gagged and tied up like a damn puppet sent her into a moment of rage.

  "Oh no... It's a fucking trap!" Amy snapped.

  They didn't even have time to react before the bandits swarmed in, quickly overwhelming them. Mark did all he could to try to break free, now no longer fearing the repercussions of struggling. However, just like earlier, he couldn't. All he could do was listen and wait. Forced to endure the screams and gunshots until it all settled. The helpless man could only hope that those bastards kept their word.

  A gun was placed against his temple once the chaos settled, "Congrats, you all get to live..."

  Mark breathed a sigh of relief, maybe too early. Without warning, a fist slammed into his face. He could hear the others shout in protest. But it didn't stop the hits. Another came. Then another. He felt that warmth trail down his chin as blood trickled.

  "Punishment. For stealing. And resisting. Get the rest of them taken care of. I want to drop them off tonight," the man seemed amused as he soon began to rework Mark's situation.

  "Where ever you're all camped out at, you best hope you're dropped off nearby," one of the bandits hacked in laughter.

  "If we don't find it first!" Another cackled with him.

  Mark wanted nothing more than to end their mocking laughter. Fight or flight demanded them dead for touching his family. In this situation, it seemed reasonable. He listened into his team, hoping to get reassurance. Worry mostly took hold of him, hoping to all hell that they were okay as he sat there, bleeding and defeated. Only they mattered.

---

  "Good luck with the infected..." The familiar voice called as the vehicle drove off, just after dumping them.

  Silence followed for a long while before someone spoke up.

  "Is everyone okay?" It was Amy's voice.

  "Yeah..." Ethan and Kathryn responded.

  Mark was still unable to give a clear response.

  There was shuffling from the others as Mark sat himself up. A heavy breath escaped him as he tried to tug on the ropes again. However, soon enough, his vision was given back.

  "What assholes..." Amy growled, pulling the cloth from his mouth as well before working to free his hands. The man was incredibly thankful to see she seemed fine, quickly wrapping his arms around her.

  "Did they hurt you?" Mark glanced towards each one of them.

  "Not bad, no. But, they took everything. Seriously, using you as bait, though? God..." she sounded more pissed than anything, "then leaving you like that... total garbo."

  "I don't care what they did to me," Mark brushed off the concern, "I only care about what happened to you guys."

  "You don't have to be the selfless hero forever," Ethan chuckled softly.

  Mark nodded, defeated. A silence fell over them for a moment as they tried to recollect themselves. The sounds of the infected followed.

  "I want our shit back..." Mark finally hissed, urging everyone to move.

[moonshroooms]

Guess what I feel like oversharing? It’s Smash Bros stuff

So first of all, the first smash game I ever played was Brawl. Fite me. I didn’t have friends when melee and previous were out. Also I’d never heard of them then. And that’s pretty much it.

 When I first played Brawl and had no idea who most anyone was, aside from like. Pikachu, Mario, Link and whatnot, I played as Pikachu, Ice Climbers, and Pit. Literally most of my ‘mains’ (back before I knew what that was), were people I’d never heard of.

 Brawl Pikachu was, surprisingly, not my annoying character. Pikachu was who I considered my powerhouse. I could Thunder people at the top of the stage like no tomorrow and man it was satisfying. Down smash was my panic button and always kept people off me. Also, I could never get quick attack right. Ever.

Ice Climbers were who I used to be annoying. And when we played Brawl my friend and I weren’t quite srs about anything so we always played with items. And the power you feel. When Nana and Popo both have the fans. And your just endlessly smacking your opponent across the stage. A+ 10/10 would recommend. Though it was still before any of us were any good at the game, I did hear about wobbling back in Brawl, and sadly would never be able to even try it, as I had not the controllers needed to use it. And with Smash 4 I never will! #ripiceclimbers #ialwayslovedyou #neverforgetti

Brawl Pit was. Okay honestly, I mostly played Pit for the Subspace Emissary (which I miss and like everyone else wanted in Smash 4). I’m guessing I got attached to him just because he’s one of the first characters I played following the story line. I didn’t play him much against friend. And after Brawl I’ve never picked him up again. I’m not entirely sure why.

Brawl Toon Link. I only didn’t mention him as a main because I only started playing him a little bit before I got Smash 4. I don’t even remember using his items all that much. Know what I miss? Killing people off the top with Up Special. Why’d they get rid of that. It’s Toon Link. Who he gonna intimidate you can’t weaken my man like that.

 Whoop whoop, now we go to Smash 4, which is bright and colorful and I love it. Also it was around this time me and my friends had a newcomer who was... A bajillion times better at the game than we were. And my title as Smash Queen was threatened. And our new friend was now Usurper Smash King. And me and my partner in crime were like. ‘Yo this can’t stand’. We had a pact. I was Smash Queen and he was Smash Prince. We were unstoppable in teams. But no longer. And so we made the transition. That Smash transition of being Filthy Casuals, to Being filthy Serious Casuals.

And that’s as far as it’s gonna go. Cause let’s be honest, I’m not flippin Nairo. And my God the time and effort you have to put in to memorizing everything about your character and learning the match-up and blah blah super inner workings. I’m only a little bit ‘bout that life. I only care about beating my friends into the dirt, not top-level strangers. So I watch competitive videos and tutorials sometimes, when I’m feeling competitive I practice Advanced Techniques™. I got Perfect Pivoting, though I haven’t really been able to apply it to anything but grabbing (and attempted side smashes, but I usually end up tilting instead >3<). Pikachu’s Up-B ledge canceling is more reliable for me than before, but I still mess up sometimes and have only been able to use it just to get back to the ground without lag. I also can’t do that crazy up-b-up-b-up-b-up-b-up-b-up-b nonsense others can do. Much respect for those psychos. Flippin dweebs. And for Toon Link I pretty much have A-Cancel Tossing (that’s what it’s called, right? I can’t remember), and that’s pretty much it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After me and my friend became Casually Serious and learned more about the game, not only did we come to realize that we had no idea what we were doing when we played Brawl, but we also realized our Smash Usurper had no idea what he was doing either! :D And Oooo the day that we beat him. The day we finally beat him. Both 1v1 and when we joined teams, was the greatest day of our lives. 

Fricken nerds. XD

But we got our titles back! And still we happily sit at the top as Smash Queen and Smash Prince. I like being a bit more serious about the game honestly. It’s fun because it’s less of just random chance and more about skill, and we have fun playing matches with items on and off. And with us evolving, the rest of our friends start to evolve too, and we get beat more often than we did playing Brawl and that’s A+. I like the competition, I hadn’t realized I could be competitive before Smash. It’s pretty fun. :3

 Anyways, onto my Smash 4 mains! :D

 I actually consider myself having 2 groups of mains. The People I Actually Main, and the People I Enjoy Playing and Kinda Know How They Work But Not Really.

 First up, the Characters I Actually Main

 Pikachu: I liked Pikachu before I was srs about the game and I like him just as much after. He’s quick, annoying, has ranged attacks, and is adorably evil. Have you seen his soulless possessed eyes when he gets the smash ball? Pure terror. I do miss killing off the top with Thunder. I feel like (99.9% sure they did, but don’t care enough to look up what the changes were), they changed the way that hits, as when I went from Brawl to 4 I was absolutely terrible hitting with the cloud. No longer could I tell people ‘yo don’t let me get under u you’ll regret it’ *thunder* ‘wat did I tell u I told u not to do it’. I’m still slightly terrifying with the Thunder, but my hit rate went from a solid 70% to like. 25%. Yes I absolutely calculated that I’m a mathematician. But in exchange I actually hit people with the Thunder from the bottom, when I get all explodey and have .3 seconds of super armor >:D I’m much more accurate with that and it is very much satisfying getting a kill with it. My favorite outfit is his Goggles, and then the Wizard Hat. A++

Toon Link: Toon Link, honestly, is bae. I used to like Pikachu better, but since I’ve learned more about Toon Link I like playing as him so much more. I don’t care much that he’s not high tier it’s just fun playing as him, which thankfully is the basis with everyone I play. Walling people out gives me life. And I’m good at reading my friends enough that it gets menacing, especially when I pull out a bomb. For whatever reason when I start usually I just use boomerang and arrows, and never start pulling bombs until I get into a bad situation. I’ve gotten better and sometimes I pull a bomb first thing (though throwing it first thing is another matter entirely). My favorite thing about Toon Link is that if someone actually manages to catch a bomb, it’s usually by accident, and they don’t use them as much as me so they throw it away. And if they do hit me with it, they squander it and can’t get a hit in afterwards. I’m not much scared of my bombs since I know where I’ll move when I’m hit with them. I can’t tell you how many times I hit myself with it and saving my butt cause ain’t nobody know what to do when I’m flying the other way. Also, bring back Toon Link’s Up-B kill. It’s not so easy anymore. I miss it. So much. At least forward air gives a satisfying thwack. I choose his outfit basically as whatever I happen to be feeling at the time, most often it’s Blue then Green Link. When I’m being dumb or getting annoyed about people trying to partner with me in a 4v4 (or when we partner up on purpose and I decide I’m going to betray you now but I’m not about to give that away on purpose), I become Dark Link, I Have No Friends.

Shulk: Funny thing is, I’ve never played Xenoblade Chronicles. I’ve watched a let’s play of most of it (anyone else like chuggaaconroy’s videos?), but I want to play it myself eventually so I’m holding off watching the end. I’m not particularly attached the game or characters, and honestly Shulk is way different from anyone else I play. Most everyone I’ve played are light, fast characters with some sort of projectile. Literally everyone else I play has a projectile. But I ended up really liking Shulk and the monado arts. With the different arts he has (particularly speed), it’s easy for me to get in even without a projectile. I love the counter, and how long it lasts, and that second counter you get for ‘predicting’ the attack. My only complaint is that every. Single. One. Of Shulk’s moves is slow like no tomorrow. I wish that when you put on speed it changed the frames in which some of his attacks come out, especially since you’re sacrificing so much for what’s basically just a movement boost. But regardless, I love playing as Shulk, and the monado is enough for me to feel like I don’t need to be right in my opponents face all the time. Also, being at 200% in shield is a scary thing, especially when people get desperate for attacks but oops, call me Raven cause I just got a Vision! I really should learn about Art Canceling (I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s called), but eh. Ain’t got no time recently. My favorite outfits of his is either the white Paladin Shulk, the Red and Blue, or the Orange and Pink. Depends on my mood which one I choose.

 And that about does it for Characters That I Actually Main :D Three of them is pretty reasonable, right? Characters I Enjoy Playing and Kinda Know How They Work But Not Really is slightly less reasonable. A whopping four characters. That’s right. One more than my mains. Then again, that makes 7 characters in all. Not really that resonable anymore XD

 To start things off, first and definitely least is Bowser Jr: Bowser Jr. was how I learned having a character that’s not as likely to die at 70% is a beautiful thing. I started playing him when I first got Smash 4, and sorta dropped him along the way. Every once in a while I’ll play as him, but it’s usually when things are just for fun. I’m not so good at getting the hammer from his up-b to hit, but I can clownkart-to-down-air like nobody’s business obvs I am a master at strategical combat. My favorite move and the objectively best move in his arsenal? Down tilt. Pblblblbl. I like the classical Bowser Jr. skin, while my friend likes to play as Wendy.

Next up is Rosalina and Chico. Or Luma: I also played Rosalina back when I first started Smash 4. It was to fill the hole in my heart left behind by the Ice Climbers. It did its job, for a time. But Chico will never be Nana. </3 But Rosalina and Luma are still pretty fun! I got as far as understanding better how they work together, separate, Rosalina by herself and running away screaming. I learned Lunar Landing, which isn’t a very hard technique in and of itself anyways. My friend more often plays as them now, and my best counter to Rosalina is either Shulk or Rosalina XD Thankfully my Rosalina is still better than his so I have that >:D Rosalina, for me, is a character I consider really good at Not Dying. When we play Time battles I have a harder time winning with her, but put me in Stock and I am Queen of the Cosmos. My favorite outfits are her white and black ones. :3

Third is the one, the only, Mewtwoooooo: Mewtwo, oddly enough, I absolutely hated. When we first got the DLC for him I tried him out and agh. The floatiness, his slow attacks, his tendency to die at 70% if you stare at him too hard, down special is impossible to hit, and the fricking smash attacks are like 2 inches away from his face. I hated him. He was awful. And somehow I kept trying to pick him up anyways??? The odd thing is my friend usually likes the floaty characters, but refuses to pick out Mewtwo. Somehow, somewhere, at some point or another, I ended up playing as Mewtwo even though I wasn’t that good. I haven’t even bothered looking for many combos or techniques for him, but he’s fun to play. He’s a glass canon, and the better I get at him the more intimidating he is. I still haven’t been able to hit anyone with confusion. Ever. >_> But his floatiness and that long tail are pretty useful tools once you get the hang of it. And that forward air is killer man. I approve. And I’ve been able to hit with his side smashes a lot more! No luck with down smash yet though. VoV I play Mewtwo quite often, often enough that if I actually bothered learning more about him, I’d probably consider him a main I could switch in an out with Shulk. My favorite skin of his is the Edgelord dark version.

And last, but certainly not least, the character that I literally play just to be annoying is, not Duck Hunt, not Pacman or Pikachu or Bayonetta, but: Charizard! Or specifically my version, Purplezard. The best thing about Charizard is that he encompasses everything I hate. He’s slow. His attacks are slow. He can’t jump high. No projectiles (flamethrower is like. Half a projectile). But for whatever reason despite me being absolute garbage in comparison to playing my other characters, I often win with him. I literally just play as Charizard to be a monster. And he is an absolute Beast. My friend particularly hates if I ever switch to him because he knows full well that I’m not playing seriously, I’m being a big fat troll, I know very little about him as a character, and I win anyways. And if it wasn’t obvious from the name Purplezard, I like his purple skin. A+

 And that about does it for who I like playing in Smash! As a side note and completely unrelated to characters, for anyone who likes playing with items on, I have a tip for you:

Throw shit.

Flame rod? Throw it. Lightsaber? Throw it. Get the fricken Homerun Bat? Throw it. Throw everything. You have no idea how much it throws off people when you get the Homerun Bat and they expect you to go for the gold and you just chuck it at their face instead. And homerun bat does so much damage being thrown too. And by the time they realize it’s not in your hands and they have an opportunity to grab it, you’re probably already running at it and grab the item + hit them with a dash attack first. And who knows if your gonna start using the item like it’s supposed to be? The power is yours.

Also it’s hilarious