#'why is nobody freed' I could had been lead to Job or anything like that

[eryiss]

Slow Motion [Freed x Jet]

Summary: Jet adored Freed with his whole heart, and couldn't imagine what his life would be like without him. But he came damn close, when Freed returned to the guild, barely clinging to life. Jet couldn't see him, couldn't talk to him, couldn't do anything. Well, he could do one thing. Hunt down the person who did this to Freed, and make it right.

Notes: Hi all. Just a little warning, this has some darker content. Jet gets quite angry and goes mad, so there's some descriptions of injuries. Not overly graphic, but be warned. Also, be sure to look at this art by @jethro-art. It's amazing, and some great Freed x Jet content.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Slow Motion

Jet hadn't been around when Freed came back, but he'd heard the stories.

The door's to the guildhall had been kicked open, and Elfman had walked in with Freed in his arms, bruised and broken and covered in dried blood. He was unconscious, and Elfman had yelled for Wendy, desperate and panicking as Freed got whiter and whiter, blood dripping onto the floor and his leg hanging in a clearly broken position. The guild had clambered to get him help, and Porlyusica had been called immediately. Even under the intense magic of two healing wizards, Freed didn't open his eyes.

While on a mission, Jet's communication Lacrima had started buzzing in his pocket. It kept buzzing and buzzing, and eventually he opened it. Mirajane, as calmly as she could, explained what happened. Jet peppered her with an endless slurry of questions, and eventually decided enough was enough. His magic burned inside him, and he began running home.

That had been three days ago. Jet still hadn't been able to see Freed.

He was locked up in the infirmary, with Wendy, Kinana, Porlyusica and Mirajane tending to him day and night. They worked in shifts and didn't let anyone visit him. Jet hadn't so much as glimpsed at his boyfriend, and his mind was unravelling in panic. He just wanted to see him, to settle all the horrible thoughts in his mind and stop going to the worst case scenarios, and he was getting desperate. At this point he might fight the damn witch Porlyusica to get in and see how Freed was doing.

But he couldn't, and he knew that. As much as he wanted to run into the infirmary, he knew there must be an explanation for it. Whether Freed needed to be undisturbed, or they were being kind to Jet by not letting him see how bad Freed was, there was clearly a reason to it. And Jet, as much as he hated it, needed to respect that.

Gods Dammit! He needed to do something!

That was how he ended up in the guildhall's records room. Everyone was so focused on tending to Freed, that nobody noticed him slipping into the restricted room. He closed the door gently behind him, walked to the large filing cabinet and pulled open the door. With quick fingers and a frown on his face, he flipped through file after file until he found the most recent admission. He pulled it out and clenched it in his fist when he was sure of what it was. The job posting that had landed Freed in such a state. The job posting that would lead him to whoever had hurt Freed so badly.

He stormed back into the main room of the guildhall and up to Team Shadow Gear's table. Levy and Droy watched him as he approached, and he slammed the job on the table. They looked at it in confusion, and realisation seemed to strike them both at the same time.

"Jet," Droy began, looking at him with that horrible worry that he'd been receiving for the past few days. "I know you want to, but it's not safe."

"He's right," Levy piled on, reaching out and cupping Jet's hands in a gentle cradle. "I'm sure Freed wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger. Why don't you put this back and then we can ask if we can see him?"

"I'm going," Jet stated, voice firm and determined.

"You shouldn't-" Droy began.

"I am going whether you're happy about it or not. I am going to find this bastard and I'm going to fuck him up just as badly as he hurt Freed," His tone left no room for argument, and the set of his jaw was tense and angry. Both Levy and Droy shared a look of concern, but Jet didn't care. They could feel bad for him, feel worried about him, and feel like he was making a mistake. He wouldn't let them stop him. "You can come if you want. But I'm going no matter what you do."

With that, Jet picked up the job listing again and started to walk towards the doors. He heard a whispered conversation between his teammates, but he didn't listen to them. He was too busy focusing on how to get to the town from the job as quickly as possible. The train would be best; that way he could build up his magic and fully focus on the fight. No matter what he was going to be put against, he wanted to destroy it. Obliterate it. Make it feel as scared as Jet was feeling and have it beg for mercy because that's what it deserved for what it did to Freed.

He heard the whispering stop, and still didn't stop walking. Jogging footsteps caught up with him. Droy walked to his left, Levy to his right. He knew that they were looking at each other over his head, probably with concern, but he didn't care. It wouldn't stop him. If he couldn't see Freed, he needed to do something. Now, he had a goal. A target. A way to get out his frustrations and get revenge for Freed.

Just before he left, he took off his hat and threw it at a nearby table. Freed liked that hat, he wouldn't appreciate it being covered in blood.

----

"Droy," Jet yelled, rushing to the left to avoid an airborne boulder that had been thrown at him. "Capture him!"

It hadn't been difficult to find the dark mage that had been responsible for Freed's attack. The job listing had been quite clear about where they had been making a base in the middle of the mountains. A conservationist had realised that animals were disappearing in the mountains, and after some investigations, realised that a dark mage had been making animal sacrifices in the hundreds. The conservationist had made meticulous notes about the dark mage's actions, and Jet had quickly been able to find out the building he'd been hiding out in.

The mage was a man, his limbs made entirely of jagged stone. He had been in the middle of another sacrifice when Shadow Gear kicked down the door. He had looked at them, then back to the beast he was killing. His arm turned to a rocky dagger, and he burst the animal's heart with a laugh.

Jet saw red.

If he had treated Freed with as much viciousness as he did the animals, then Jet was going to kill him. If he had laughed a single time when he was hurting Freed, Jet would make sure he could never laugh again.

How dare he! How dare he hurt someone like this! How dare anyone hurt Freed like this! Freed was a batted man than this bastard deserved to know!

But he'd regret it. Jet was going to make him regret it.

He had lurched forward in a flurry of magic, slamming a fist into the cultist's chest, the force of it slamming the man into the wall. He was still laughing, and Jet rushed forward to punch him again. Then again, then again, then again. The man was laughing still, seemingly unbothered by the punches. His blood was rushing through his body in a screaming torrent of burning anger, and all he wanted to do was keep punching the cultist until he stopped his damned laughing.

Dory and Levy were behind him a moment later. Droy threw seeds to the ground which sprouted into sharp thorns and flurried towards the cultists. They chipped away at the stone of the man's body, but still the cultist laughed. Levy used her solid script to try attacking with different elements - water and grass and fire - but they all bounced off stone that made up his skin. It all seemed so useless, but Jet was too consumed by anger to care.

And then, the cultist fought back.

Stalagmites burst through the floor, splintering the floorboards and forcing them all to jump to avoid them. It was a distraction, and a rock burst into existence with a crackle of magic, flying towards Jet and hitting him straight in the stomach. He grunted, falling to the ground and groaning at the bruising sensation. He planted his hands on the floor and pushed up, a glare still strong on his face.

Droy acted first, and a wall of wines shot up from the floor to block the next flying stone. The vines took the impact but wilted and needed to be regrown. Again and again, the vines were destroyed and replanted as they plotted their next move. That was how they'd gotten to Jet's demand that Droy trap him.

"I'll have to lower the shield," Droy said, wincing as a rock cut through the most recent wall of vines. "If I don't, they won't be strong enough to hold him. And I'll need to concentrate, so I can't be hit."

"I can cast shields," Levy offered. "But I don't know if I can make them fast enough. He's quick with his magic."

"I'll distract him," Jet cracked his knuckles as he spoke. "Just trap him."

Jet went to move, but Levy placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. She was wearing that same worried expression that she'd been wearing since Freed had come back. Jet wanted to tell that, just because he was being fuelled by anger, it didn't mean his plan wouldn't work. He knew what he was doing; he wasn't going to get hurt because then Freed would be as scared as he was. He didn't want Freed feeling like he did.

"Jet-" She began. Jet cut her off.

"Freed told me about a folktale one night. A bird that lands on a diamond mountain, pecks at the stone every day. It just keeps pecking away, right. Day by day, it looks like nothing is happening. But then, after a lifetime, it cuts a tunnel through the diamond. It just takes time. That's what we've gotta do."

"Jet you can't mean to…" Levy spiralled off. "How do you even know it'll work?"

"I knocked off a chunk of the rock, he's flesh and bone under it, even if the stone grew back quick," Jet grinned, a little manically. "If I go all out, I can cut through the stone and get to him. Then I'll be able to knock him out and we'll be done!"

"You can't be sure of that," Levy argued. "And even if you could be, you'd cut your knuckles to the bone!"

"I don't care-"

"Guys, we need to make a decision," Droy cut through their argument, wincing as he kept up his shield. "I've not got much magical energy left, if you want me to contain him then we're going to have to do it now."

Jet moved before Levy could argue again, running out from behind the wall of vines and into the battle again. A torrent of sharp stones flew towards him, hitting the wall behind him as he avoided them. The cultist managed to shoot these small stones at him while he flew boulders at Levy and Droy, and Levy quickly casted shield spells to protect them both from the attack. The room was manic, and Jet rushed around, never getting close enough to hit him. Tables and chairs were destroyed by the spray of rocks, and a few grazed his legs and arms as he ran. He ignored the pain, waiting for Droy to get enough magic for his spell.

A wayward rock bounced off a wall, slicing Jet on the back of his leg. He winced and stumbled to a halt, shooting a glare at the cultist. The man looked at him, saw the blood dribbling down his leg, and laughed. How much had he laughed at what he'd done to Freed? Jet wanted him dead.

"Chain Seeds!" Droy yelled, and magic flared up.

Thick and potent vines shot out from the ground, coiling and wrapping around the cultist with vice like grips. They wrapped around his legs, tight and unrelenting. Then his arms. Then his neck. The cultist struggled against them, stone trying and failing to cut through them, but Droy's magic held strong. He spluttered and growled, thrashing in his binds. One vine coiled around his head, forcing itself into mouth to gag him.

Hah, he wasn't laughing now, was he?

Jet grinned a nasty grin, slowly walking towards the man who had nearly killed his boyfriend. He stood face to face with the cultist, his face a picture of unrestrained fury and antagonistic glee.

"Twenty four," Jet taunted. "That's how many punches I can land in a single second if I use all my magic. I can keep that up for three hundred and ninety two seconds. You know how many punches that is? Nine thousand four hundred and eight," He leant forward an inch further, grin truly cruel now. "How long d'you think you can last?"

He didn't wait for a response. Magic flared, punches flew, and it felt amazing!

----

"Don't upset him," Freed could hear Porlyusica speaking despite the door being closed. "I don't want any excitement, anything that could stress him, and anything that might make his injuries worse. Do you understand?"

Someone replied, and the door opened. Porlyusica was actually pushed into the door, and a moment later Freed saw who was responsible. He couldn't fight the smile on his face as Jet, in his cute little hat, a bag over his shoulder, and with a worried expression, stormed over to him. Freed felt his stomach swirl in a warm comfort as his boyfriend looked him up and down; while he knew he was in a bad state, it was nice to have someone that he loved worrying for him. But, when the look of concern didn't lift, Freed remembered just how near up he had become.

His leg was held up and covered in plaster as the bone healed, one arm was still in a cast, his face was still covered in scratches and a bruise still blotched over one of his eyes. He felt okay, still in pain but a lot better than when he had teleported away.

Frankly, he was lucky the closest Fairy Tail member was Elfman. Who would have known what might have happened if his spell had taken him to someone who couldn't lift him?

"Are you okay?" Jet demanded, sitting on the side of the bed and looking at Freed with open worry.

"I'm healing," Freed said, knowing that a simple 'I'm fine' wouldn't help either of them. "A lot of things hurt, and my leg is going to take some time to heal so I won't be able to walk for a while, but I'm not in danger of things getting worse. I just need to be patient and allow myself to heal."

"You won't be able to walk?" Jet asked, looking at his leg with worry.

"Temporarily," Freed said, moving his good arm and placing a hand on Jet's thigh to calm him. "I can live without it, and I can be happy without it for a while," Jet didn't seem to believe him, and Freed couldn't blame him exactly. Jet's legs were necessary for his magic, losing the use of one would be deviating. To calm him, Freed needed to change tactic. "Don't look too sad about it. I'll be expecting you to wait hand and foot on me. A little servant boy, all of my own. What should I make you wear? A butler's uniform? A maid's dress? Or perhaps we can revisit that cute little bunny outfit again?"

Jet blushed, looked away, and shifted. Adorable; Freed would have to make that happen more often.

"I was worried about you," Jet said under his breath, and Freed felt the mirth leaving the room. "You promise you're okay?"

"I promise I'm getting better, and I will recover," Freed said truthfully. "And I'm sorry I made you worry. I argued that you should be allowed to see me earlier, but the witch was stubborn and never stepped close enough for me to hit her. It was quite rude, actually."

Jet laughed a little and took Freed's hand in his own. Freed looked down and narrowed his eyes when he saw the back of Jet's right hand. The skin was red, covered in scratches and scabs that looked fresh and blotchy. Jet was too busy looking at Freed's leg, so didn't notice that Freed had seen the state his hands were in. Freed squeezed his hand and shifted so that he was a little closer to his boyfriend.

"What did you do to occupy your time?"

"Yelled at people," Jet confessed, stroking Freed's hand. "Didn't sleep much. Got kinda pissy with the guild, might need to make a few apologies later."

"And that's all?" Freed ran a thumb over one of the scabs. Jet looked down, then deflated.

"Punched a wall," He mumbled.

"With injuries like these, I expect you knocked down the building," Freed countered, and Jet winced. "Tell me what you did, Jet."

Jet mumbled something under his breath and sighed when Freed gave him an imploring look. Still quietly, he confessed. "I tracked the guy down and beat him up."

Freed hissed under his breath. He hated the sound of that. The idea of Jet being anywhere near that cultist made him feel sick. The laughing was as vicious as he was evil, and Freed didn't want to know what he could do to Jet. Not that he thought Jet couldn't look after himself, of course, but the dark mage was powerful and evil and didn't show mercy. But, Jet had made it back, so he couldn't let himself focus on what ifs.

"What happened?" Freed asked.

"I beat him the hell up," Jet stated. There was something he wasn't saying, and Freed didn't look away from him. Jet relented. "I was so fucking pissed off at him. I just kept thinking about what he did to you, how I didn't know if you were gonna be okay or what had happened to you. He just kept laughing and laughing and I was pissed off and I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to hurt him, and I wasn't thinking right."

"What happened, Jet?" Freed repeated.

"I kept punching and punching him. Droy was holding him so he couldn't fight back. I kept going and going, and I didn't wanna stop," Jet spat. "He didn't deserve me stopping."

"But you did stop, didn't you?" Freed insisted, worry squirming. "You didn't… he's not…"

"Levy and Droy stopped me," Jet sighed. "I knocked him out but kept going. Droy used his trap spell on me. I tried to fight against it and Levy had to talk me down and make me stop. I just wanted to hurt the bastard and I could see that he was still breathing, and I just wanted to kick him and punch him more because he wasn't as hurt as people said you were. Fucking pissed me off!"

"I understand," Freed admitted. He would be the same, if the situations were reversed. "What happened?"

"Droy called the rune knights, the cultist was arrested, and Levy calmed me down. The bastards in prison. In the infirmary," Jet smirked at that. "But he's alive. Don't know if that's good or not."

"It's good," Freed said firmly. Because if the cultist had died, Jet would have been the one to kill him. Murder weighed heavy in a soul, even if justified, and Freed didn't want that for Jet. Jet was a pure hearted man, even if he didn't admit it.

"I guess," Jet shrugged, then remembered the overnight bag over his shoulder. "I got you some stuff, thought it might give you something to do and make you feel a little more comfy.

Jet started to pull things out of the bag. First, there was Freed's duvet, which was infinitely more comfortable than the itchy and uncomfortable one he'd been contending with for the past few days. Next, half a shelf's worth of books, some of which he hadn't read and half of which he had. He then pulled out some clothes, which he quickly reloaded Freed wouldn't be able to wear them with his body in the state it was in.

"Dammit, should have thought," Jet muttered, shoving the clothes back into the bag. "Could've guessed you'd be in plaster. Fucking idiot. Dammit!"

"Hey!" Freed snapped. "Stop that " He let go of Jet's hand, then cupped his jaw softly. "I'm back, I'm recovering, and the best thing you can do for me is be here and show me that smile."

"Don't just say-"

"I'm not 'just saying' anything. I mean that," Freed was firm but gentle. "When you smile, and I get to look at it, it makes me happy. You're beautiful and I love seeing you happy. So, for as long as you're here with me, that's the best thing you can do."

"You mean that?" Jet mumbled.

"I do," Freed nodded. "Especially when you're so well trained as my servant already. Once I get you an appropriate costume, my life will be perfect."

"You're an ass," Jet laughed a little.

"Is that any way to speak to me?" Freed tutted and turned up his nose. "And here I thought you were a good boy."

Jet, for some reason, flushed red. Very red. Oh…

This could be fun.

"Is that what you want to be, Jet," Freed purred, grinning a little as Jet squirmed in the seat and averted his eyes. His cheeks were so red, Freed couldn't look away. "To be a good boy?"

"Shut up," Jet muttered.

"I think that means yes," Freed hummed.

"It doesn't," Jet grumbled.

"It does," Freed chuckled. "You're aware that, for as long as it takes for me to recover, I'm going to do everything I can to make you blush and squirm just like you are right now, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hm," Freed hummed. "Good boy."

Jet's face was flaming red again, smiling, and Freed loved it. This would be fun.

[napeoftheneck]

Rivers of Crimson (Ymir x Reader)

I absolutely can bestie!  I had a hard time trying to find out what I could do for some angst without being yk. One of those “I’m not Christa :(“ fics, so here’s some hurt/comfort w/ some extra angst mixed in !! Angst is my absolute favourite to write, I’m so elated that it’s is my first request. Especially with Ymir, too !! Thank u <3<3 

Title: Rivers of crimson  Genre: Angst w/happy ending, hurt/comfort  Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries, angst, swearing, Ymir being kind of a meanie, fighting, implied comphet if you really REALLY squint  Word count: ~1.7k

IMPLIED SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF ATTACK ON TITAN !! 

(There was no specific request for a WLW reader, so I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as I can :>) 

-

Ymir had never really felt helpless since her youth. Even then, in those moments, she felt as though she had been ruling, that whatever she could do would bring praise and gratitude and triumph. It was only after she had been adjudged when she realised that the reason she sought after that feeling of authority for so long was because of just how dependent she had actually convinced herself she was. 

Becoming a god was the loneliest feeling in the world, but solitude brought a power not many had; it brought independence. She never had to worry about others. 

She often found herself watching her fellow cadets when they returned from battle. Ymir would often follow as they broke down, crumbling to their knees in wracked sobs upon hearing of the demise of their loved ones. She would listen to the hums of commiseration from other soldiers or watch as they would help the mourning fighter to their feet and lead them away from others' scrutinising eyes. She wouldn't pity them. The feeling of sympathy was foreign to her.

Ymir had been fighting for a grand portion of her life now. She had held herself to those same beliefs since her first day of training, so she was specifically surprised when she had taken such a liking to you.

She fought it for a while. Whenever you would sit with her at lunch, she would make an effort to seem uninterested when you spoke of your day. When you stumbled during training, she would correct you, but would mask whatever tenderness that found her voice with a sigh or a comment implying that you “need to suck it up”. 

Yet, despite how she pushed and strayed from you, you remained a constant in her life of inconsistencies. Eventually, you were the closest to what she could call a friend. 

Ymir ignored how, whenever you would patch her wounds or link to her on cold nights or how often you would sleep in the same bed, she was far too mercenary to label you as something other than a friend. Even that was stretching it. 

Though, in moments like these, Ymir wished that she was raw enough to let you know. Because, in moments like these, she would be terrified to misspeak. 

You wouldn’t fight often. Not like this. 

You had mentioned having to “get up early” off-handedly during dinner when excusing yourself from the table. Ymir asked about it and you mentioned a scout that had been injured, whom you volunteered yourself to replace for an outer-walls mission. You said it all so casually. Ymir couldn’t grasp any sarcasm in your voice or crack in your authored facade as you brushed through your hair in the mirror of her chambers. She didn’t see you make eye contact with her once. You spoke to her coolly about how happy you were to finally be able to sleep, about the dinner and how it was cold that day, about how Jean had snuck some of your apple at lunch that day.

Ymir just stood in silence, considering and rejecting things to say in response. 

“Were you gonna tell me about how you’re leaving tomorrow, or was I just supposed to wake up without you and put it together myself?” She spoke before thinking. You hesitated, hovering over your cupboard.  “Ymir, it’s not a big deal,” you finally sigh, running a hand through your hair the moment it’s freed. “I said it was just a capture mission. Hange said we won’t go far-“  “You can't go.”  You narrow your eyes. You had now frozen in your tracks completely; no longer pacing around the room to place things in their correct spaces.  “I’m not a child,” you speak gently, as if to a rabid dog. The blaze in her eyes was enough to pardon it. “I don’t have to ask your approval to work. I don’t need you next to me,” you deride lightly, insignificantly, as you turn your back to her. You didn’t plan to sound so dismissive.  “Are you seriously being this fucking petty right now? You could die out there,” Ymir, however, fully intended her venomous rhythm. She towers over you, if not just in her tone alone. “You’re being stupid. You know you're not strong enough to fight with that squad.” Your breath hitches in your throat. Ymir regrets her words immediately, but she doesn’t waver in her stance. “What the fuck is your problem?” you sneer. “You insist on how little you care about me, but as soon as I do anything without your permission you yell at me?”  “That’s not what this is about, (y/n)-”  “Then what is it about, Ymir? Why are you so scared?”  “I don't give a shit about what happens to you! I'm just-” Ymir catches herself before she can finish her sentence. “No, I-”  “Exactly,” before she can correct herself, though, you are biting y our lip the way you do when you're biting back tears and you are in front of her. “Move. I need to go to bed.” 

She is wordless as she steps to the side and allowing you to pass her. It isn't until she hears your footsteps down the hall when she speaks. 

“If you come back, I won’t be here.” She hears you stop. Ymir doesn't expect you to come running to her, arms open and folded clothing discarded into a pile on the hallway floor. She isn't entirely sure why she's digging such a hole for herself - she doesn't mean what she's saying - of course she doesn't, she adores you, so why is she so set on pushing you as far away as she possibly can? Why does she feel that she needs to?  “Good.” you reply. The footsteps continue, then you are gone.

You are gone for three days. 

Ymir, at first, didn’t count the hours.  She stewed in her angst alone for a grand portion of the morning without you; she dutifully avoided talking about whatever mission you had left for at the table that morning. 

Despite herself, Ymir had to eventually confront her weakness after the third consecutive “Are you okay?” Of that day that she wasn’t doing as good of a job of hiding her worry as she had thought. 

She thought she didn’t seem too bothered when your name was mentioned at the breakfast table. 

She thought she didn’t look too obviously intrigued when, 30 hours since you left (she swore she hadn’t counted), she heard Captain Levi murmur something about a retrieval squad. She thought she didn’t sound so desperate when she attempted to bring it casually up in conversation, yet she couldn’t fight the cracks in her voice and she couldn’t stop herself from wringing her hands over her wrists in worry when she thought nobody was looking. Helplessness went from being a stranger to a thorn at her side in a matter of hours.

It had been the dawn of the fourth day when Ymir was awoken by a creek by her door. She remained stiff as she listened to light footsteps approach her bed, but she softens when she hears you. When she sat up, unsure of whether you were actually there or if she had just been consumed by grief and began to hallucinate, you winced. 

She blinks. 

There are no words exchanged. Ymir debates speaking, though her body moves before she can and, in minutes, you are sat in the bathroom and she is kneeling in front of you.

Ymir isn’t certain (it seems like she hadn’t been certain about anything at all for the past week) why she wasn’t crying. She isn’t sure why she’s so terrified to touch you, or to speak, or to maintain eye contact for longer than a millisecond. 

You were in frightening shape. Had she not been petrified to talk, Ymir would be swearing under each breath.  Blood still seeped from your open wounds, cascading in small, splitting rivers of crimson down the side of your face. It had likely been far too long since you had fought any kind of titan, Ymir thought. Their blood would've been long since steamed. It was your blood. You must have noticed her hesitance as she wiped it, gently, dreading that she would uncover another wound, because you broke the abundant, pregnant stillness

“They lost two scouts.” “Oh.” Ymir responds. An unfamiliar feeling settles uncomfortably in her gut. “I’m sorry.” You nod, then you are silent again. 

Ymir takes a moment to resume her conscientious work. 

There is no obligation between either of you to say anything more. Your eyes are fixed downward, resting heavily on Ymir as she squints at the cap of some kind of disinfectant. She’s biting her tongue.  “I didn’t mean anything I said,” Ymir spoke to you suddenly and without looking you in the eyes. You’re thankful because it told you that you weren’t the only one too frightened to do so. “I do give a shit about what happens to you,” You laugh insignificantly, shaking your head. “I thought you died. I thought I lost you and the last things I said to you was that I wouldn’t be here, but I will. I’ll always be here.” She is desperate, rambling until she realises it and lulls herself. 

You would say something dismissively comforting had it not been for the silence Ymir’s hand brought as it raised to your cheek and gently brushed a stray tear away. It is so small and trifling, yet it is gracious and fragile and kind and it means the universe to you. 

“I know,” you respond.  You don’t need to hear a long-drawn, significant plea. You don’t need it because, truthfully, you knew you likely wouldn’t get it from Ymir in the first place.  However, as she guides you gently back into her bed, engulfing you in the white sheets, and places a small kiss on your forehead, something settles within you. 

It was a feeling one would associate with the moments after receiving an apology; it is warm, tender, relieving. 

You were home. You were safe. 

You were loved. 

Although she hadn’t said it, it wasn’t needed, because as Ymir’s arms tighten around you, you certainly felt it enough to maintain a sleepy smile as you drifted off alongside her.

[alia-turin]

Request:  I wish you would write a fic where Caranthir and Imlerith are being requested by their commander to capture a human sorceress, who is known for her healing powers, compel her to divulge her secrets and spells and then kill her, but things take an unexpected turn

Honestly guys I feel so bad because you sent these awesome requests and I feel like butcher them and turn them upside down :D 

In any case couple of notes - big HC that I was introduced to is that despite everything Imlerith has soft side for animals, so I’m sorry if he sounds a bit OOO, but that whole thing is really about his soft side. If you want more Imlerith + animals, please check out @erinbeast . I have also put some ideas for Caranthir that come from an old fic I posted and another fic I’m currently working on (which I might never post but there is that). I hope y’all enjoy tagging you 

AO3 Link

Warning: mentioning of injured animal 

Caranthir stepped through the portal and Imlerith followed. Neither of them was wearing their armor, at least not in full. His friend still wore gauntlets instead of gloves and some of the metal around his legs and torso. Caranthir on the other hand was more practical, no amount of armor was going to protect them where they were going so he was just wearing his normal clothes and a cloak. He knew roughly where their final destination was supposed to be, but he wasn’t sure so he ended up getting them in the forest and they were going to figure the rest.

“I still don’t understand what Eredin’s problem with that particular sorceress is.” Imlerith groaned as Carathir led the way. He could sense the bitch so it wouldn’t be that difficult to find her at that point.

“Does it matter?” they were alone, even the usual forest sounds were somehow dulled around them. He couldn’t hear birds, just the wind brushing against the leaves. “She is a human sorceress, she is better off dead.”

Imlerith raised an eyebrow but the younger man did not see him as he was leading. Since Caranthir had joined the Red Riders the two of them had become friends. He had trained him to use a sword and spear, art Caranthir never mastered, but he had become damn good with that staff of his even when he was not using magic. He had also seen him grow, become more of a Red Rider compared to the skinny kid who left Avallac’h.

“For someone who uses magic you hate other mages way too much. Jealous they might be better than you?” He mocked but also that was something Imlerith never fully understood. One day something had snapped in Caranthir. The man never showed any real hate to anything but Avallac’h, at most he would just show lack of interest in things which in Caranthir’s cold mind was probably equal to hate. But then something happened, first it was just the darker mood but then during one of their raids he saw the Navigator break the skull of a human sorcerer. Imlerith liked violence, he inflicted it however he could, it made his blood running, but that had been something new from Caranthir. Maybe their friendship was rubbing on him or maybe it was just the Eredin effect.

“There isn’t anybody who is better…” Caranthir suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Imlerith looked around and focused, he could hear it. It sounded like a dog whining somewhere close. Without thinking Imlerith traced the sound and Caranthir was following.

It didn’t take them too far until they found the wolf lying on a bed of leaves and dirt. It was injured, an arrow was sticking from one of its hind legs and another one from its abdomen. Imlerith’s jaw clenched. He liked hunting, but he never did it for sport, it had always been for food or fur and he always made sure to finish his kill fast. He had no issue killing humanoid creatures in an extremely painful way, he even took pleasure in it, but animals were innocent. Whoever did not finish that kill deserved slow and painful death.

The wolf looked at them and showed them his teeth but he looked weak. Imlerith stepped closer, the arrow in the leg did not seem so bad, but the one in the abdomen...that was nasty wound.

Caranthir just looked at the other man as he approached the wolf, the animal was growling, but there was no bite, no danger to it.

“Imlerith, it’s dying, mercy is the best thing you can do for it.” He knew his friend felt some kinship to animals. Everyone always thought Imlerith to be mindless brute, Eredin’s rabid dog, but that was just part of the story. There is a side that almost nobody had seen.

“Maybe Avallac’h should have shown you some mercy.” the other man pointed at his face where Caranthir’s scars were.

“Maybe your mother should have shown some mercy when she saw you are barely intelligent to get dressed.” the Navigator bit back without hesitation. That’s what they did, Imlerith made fun of the scars on his face, the only person he tolerated to do that, and he made fun of Imlerith’s intelligence, just like true brothers.

Caranthir sighed. He wasn’t heartless, he just didn’t see a point in letting the poor animal suffer. He knelt next to Imlerith and placed a hand on the wolf’s head despite the sharp teeth that were barren.

“What are you doing?” Imlerith grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

“I’m not killing it. I can relate to the need to protect innocence and purity in its clearest form.” Imlerith had no idea what that meant. Caranthir had the habit to speak like Avallac’h at times, half of a conversation that made no sense to anyone. He made fun of him for that, but not now. The navigator freed his hand and placed it on the wolf again. Second later the animal was asleep and the laboured breathing was calmer. “We can break the arrows, but we should not pull them out, we need to deal with that bitch, which would be a quick job and then we can take it to Tir na Lia. It should be asleep for about two hours and it doesn’t feel pain, just make sure it doesn’t lose any more blood, because that will kill it.”

Caranthir didn’t have much hope for the animal surviving, judging by the blood around, it had been like that for some time, and his healing powers have always been the weakest from his many talents.

Imlerith scooped the wolf in his arm and followed Caranthir. He constantly looked at the animal to make sure it was still breathing. He decided he would name it Treise, a strong name for a beast like that. It wasn’t too long when they found an old log cabin deep in the woods. Caranthir did not stop, the man had no fear from some human witch, Imlerith followed but left the wolf outside, to prevent any further harm. He had seen mages fight and he also knew the pleasure Caranthir felt in making them suffer.

The Navigator was the first to enter the log cabin, bending his neck in an awkward position to get through the human sized door. Nothing impressive inside, wooden table, chairs, a bed in the far corner. The bitch was sitting next to the fireplace and turned in surprise when they walked in.

“Who…” she started a question, but he never allowed her to finish. His first attack knocked her on the ground, he wasn’t going to kill her, he was going to take his time.

Imlerith watched as Caranthir attacked the witch, she was a pretty thing for a human, small and fragile. A predator grin decorated his lips. Maybe he would let Caranthir have his fun using her to mop the floor and then he will have his type of fun.

“Wait!” the woman was on her hands and knees, her hair was a mess and there was blood running from her mouth. “I can help you.” Caranthir laughed mockingly. “I know you brought an injured animal with you, I can sense it, I’m a healer, I can help.”

Without hesitation Imlerith placed a hand on the navigator’s shoulder. Caranthir turned toward him, there was cold fire burning in his eyes. Funny how usually the roles were reversed. It had always been the younger man stopping him, but now Imlerith had other concerns than simple bloodlust.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, digging his fingers a bit deeper in the other man’s shoulder, his hand sinking in the soft first of his cloak.

“I cannot beat him.” she nodded at Caranthir. “And I don’t know why you are here but it isn’t for fortune reading. I help your wolf, you let me live.”

“No.” Caranthir said, almost offended.

“Deal.” Imlerith spoke at the same time and they both exchanged looks.

The woman wasn’t stupid and she did not wait for the two of them to sort their small differences. She got on her feet with visible effort and slowly limped toward the door.

“Please tell me the plan is to let her heal the wolf and then we kill her?” Caranthir said through his teeth, his jaw clenched. Imlerith did not answer. He wasn’t sure what the plan was. “You will tell Eredin. I’m not dealing with that.”

When they went out Caranthir walked to the nearest tree and pressed his back against it, his arms crossed over his chest, his cold eyes just pinned on the woman.

“It’s very weak.” the witch said as she placed her hand on the animal.

“Oh great, it’s very weak. Must have missed that.” the navigator said sarcastically, Imlerith couldn’t stop the smile on his lips.

The woman ignored them and started working. She pulled what was left from the arrows, thick blood started pooling on the fur but she worked quickly. She chanted a spell and pulled some herbs from her pocket that she applied to the wounds. Couple of minutes later she got up, the animal was still asleep and Imlerith got worried for a moment. Did she trick them? Did she kill the wolf as a final ‘fuck you’? If that was the case, whatever Caranthir was planning to do to her, would be nothing compared to what he would do to her.

“I cannot do anything about the lost blood.” she finally said. “And I cannot wake it up because of his spell. But once it wakes up it will be weak, it won’t be able to take care of itself until its body recovers from the loss.”

Caranthir forced an arrogant smile on his lips. Of course she couldn’t she was just a stupid human mage. It was surprising that Imlerith had been so...soft, between the two of them he had always been the nicer one, had he changed so much? No, it wasn’t that. He felt pity for the animal as well and didn’t really want it to die, but he was the logical one, Imlerith was impulsive. Where was Avallac’h now to see him? Where was his old teacher to call him rash?

“Am I free to go?” the woman asked, her eyes shifting between the two of them. Imlerith nodded, Caranthir was not really sold on the idea, but nodded as well.

He opened a portal and waited for Imlerith to grab the wolf and step through it, then he followed. They went straight to Imlerith’s apartments in the castle in Tir na Lia.

“We are not telling Eredin.” his friend finally said as he gently placed the wolf on his bed. He had never seen Imlerith being gentle with anything.

“We are not telling Eredin.” Caranthir repeated. “You are telling Eredin.”

“No.” Imlerith was still looking at the wolf. “We are waiting for a couple of days, and then we will do what we were supposed to do.”

After Caranthir didn’t speak for a while, he turned to make sure the navigator was still there.

“Why?” the younger man finally asked.

“Because that wolf means more to me than any other life out there and I’m paying her by giving her a couple of days.” Imlerith wasn’t sure if the navigator understood, neither of them was affectionate to anything. He expressed his emotions with violence and Caranthir...emotions did not come easy with him.

Caranthir nodded. He could relate, probably the reason he reacted the way he did was just because he did not expect Imlerith to be so...kind. But he could understand the desire to protect something.

[writerpeach]

High Tension

IZ*ONE Miyawaki Sakura x Male Reader

5686 words

categories: smut, oral, semi-public sex, detective! kkura

18+

Note: This is a prequel to Detective Eunbi’s interrogation chapter

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

There wasn’t coffee strong enough to get you through this investigation.    

Over a week had passed since this case started. The body of a man in his mid-forties was found washed up on shore, all signs pointed to the mafia being behind it. It made things both more suddenly complicated and dangerous.

The long workday felt like a complete waste, interrogation after interrogation going nowhere. An important suspect lost after the good cop/bad cop routine went sour with no choice but to let him go without a reason to keep him contained. 

Another witness interview was canceled after they got spooked, either threatened or bought off, or both. Calling it a bad day would be an understatement. 

Frustration was at an all-time high. Evidence was insultingly lacking at this point, whoever put this hit out knew what they were doing and knew how to cover up their tracks. 

You rubbed your temple, trying to erase the pounding headache and doing anything for a sanity check.

A soft voice spoke up and broke up your irritation. 

“Let’s look over the evidence again.”

The voice of your partner, a young Japanese woman, Miyawaki Sakura. She graduated a year early and top of her class, quickly climbing the career ladder and earning the rank of detective in half the time. 

“We don’t have any evidence, that’s the problem,” you said with clear defeat in your voice.

“Then we’ll look at what we have and go from there,” she said, always keeping a calm mind.

You were lucky to have her as a partner. She filled any cracks of your armor, relying more on logic when you relied more on raw emotions. 

The small room that served as your base of operations grew stuffy. Papers were thrown messily all over the table, while the whiteboard was a fractured mess of potential suspects, forming a poorly told story of events that had no rhyme or reason. 

“We have to find out who did this. For respect for the victim and his family," you said as you looked again and again through scarce files and dossiers. Sakura smiled reassuringly across the table.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure this out. We’ll find new leads if we have to, somebody has to know who did this.” 

Sakura always knew what to say when things looked bleak. 

“I wish I shared your confidence. I’ve seen too many unanswered murders lately.” 

“I know it’s tough to be positive right now with what little we have, but we have to persevere. People are counting on us. We can't give up that easily.” 

Sakura’s soothing voice helped put you at ease, as did the radiating smile that always seemed to be on her lips even during the toughest of times. 

“Let's start at the top. Hirai Hitoshi, age 46. Found washed up on shore at approximately 4:30 am. Cause of death was a bullet point-blank to the head. No witnesses so far.” Sakura said, reading over the notes. 

“Yakuza members don’t kill randomly, he was sticking his nose in places they didn’t want it in,” Sakura continued. 

“Hitoshi-san was a prosecutor that remained undefeated for almost a decade until his untimely death.” 

“Very convenient. There’s a trial coming up in a week, three men from the Godo clan are being charged,” you said. 

“So we have the why, now we just need the who," Sakura said, gears turning in her head.

“Which brings us back to where we started. The Godo clan runs several families deep. It could be any clan who orchestrated the hit,” you said, sighing loudly.

You stood up out of your chair and paced around the room, stopping at the whiteboard and the measly evidence that was pinned there.

“We have nothing. “ you said, hanging your head in defeat.

Sakura joined you at the whiteboard. “We’ll find something. Tomorrow is a new day, maybe we’ll get lucky.” 

“Let’s hope so.” 

“Criminals always slip up, they can’t cover up everything. There has to be a clue somewhere, maybe a witness who isn’t scared to speak up,” she said as her determination grew.

“Sounds too good to be true.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. Detective Kwon is coming from the big city to interrogate one of our potential suspects. Word is nobody ever comes away from her without talking. I’ve heard her methods are very unconventional,” Sakura said. 

“Unconventional? How so?”

“Don’t know the details. I just know she’s very good at her job.” 

“I wish I could be,” you said as you took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. Sakura caressed your shoulder gently. 

“You don’t need to wish, you are good. You’re just overworked. We both are.”

“That’s an understatement. Paid vacation seems so far away.”

Sakura squeezed your arm. 

“You’re so tense,” she said, feeling how tight your muscles were.

“Yeah, well this case is driving me insane, “ you said as you stared at the whiteboard, wanting to flip the whole thing upside down. 

“When’s the last time you had a massage?” 

“A massage? Never,” you replied, cocking an eyebrow.

 “You should try it out. I get one every few weeks, it really helps put me at ease. Plus, work covers all the expenses.” 

“Strangers touching me was never my thing.”

“I felt the same way at first, but I got used to it. You’ll feel wonderful after.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

“So stubborn still I see,” she laughed.

“It’s who I am.” 

You rubbed your eyes and took a peek at the clock above the whiteboard. It was well past midnight. 

“You need a clear head. You can’t be a good detective if you can’t see straight.” 

“I’ll make sure to pick up a six-pack on the way home then.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” she frowned. “You need to find a way to relieve all this tension in a healthy way,” she said, putting herself in between yourself and the whiteboard, lips grinning widely.

“Are you going to give me a massage, Miss Miyawaki?” you teased. 

“No, I’m not trained for that,” she shyly said. “But I do know how to make you relax."

Her gaze turned deadly as she tilted her head to the side. 

“We’re at work-” Sakura interrupted you by placing a finger on your lips. 

“You can’t use that as an excuse. There’s not a single person still here except forensics, and they’re on the next floor up.” 

“Sakura…”

“You have a girlfriend? A wife?” 

“Negative. I don’t have time for that.” 

“That’s perfect then,” she said. Eyes forward, you met hers, seeing every perfect feature of her pretty face lit up. 

You were very, very, attracted to Sakura. With a body like hers and an equally gorgeous face, how could you not be? But you chose not to act on your desires, instead banking on your professionalism to keep you above water. But when faced with the proposal that you think Sakura was about to give you...

“How long have we known each other?”  Sakura asked, her small hands fiddling and playing with your tie, loosening it up.

“Two years, three months.” 

“Then don’t you think it’s about time we go to know each other, a little... better?” 

Her gaze didn’t weaken as she stepped even closer, growing more confident by the second. It’d be a lie to say you weren’t a bit intimidated at this point. 

“There’s that late-night burger shop that’s open late, I’m sure that��d be a fine place to-” 

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” 

“Then feel free to tell me what you are then,” you said with a smug expression.

“You should know I’ve been a detective long enough to know when someone is playing dumb.”

“I would never do such a thing,” you playfully said.

“I just think it’s in our best interest if we got to know each other a lot more intimately.” 

“I’d have to agree with that,” you said, a mischievous look now draped on your features. 

Two years of built-up sexual tension came to a close as Sakura’s lips crashed against your own, her hands cupping your face as you wrapped your arms around her small waist. Her taste was delectable, her cherry lips soft and warm. 

Your heart raced as you finished your first kiss, followed by another as her small frame leaned against your body. 

“I’ve never had the chance to tell you how good you always smell,” Sakura said as you pulled her in closer, fully wrapping your arms around her petite body. 

Your lips never left the warmth of each other, not ready to disengage as your lips merged together, bodies pressing together even tighter. Your attention was on the taste of Sakura, her lips doing their job in distracting you as you felt her hand slip down your pants, your body twitching in response. 

With the kiss momentarily broken, Sakura whispered in your ear. “I said I was going to help you relax...and I meant it.” She softly pumped you up and down until you were fully erect, feeling satisfied as she began undressing you. Your tie was gone in no time as she unbuttoned every button with ease, exposing your bare chest as she stripped it off your body. 

Sakura eyed your half-naked body like a delicious meal before giving your chest a quick peck, tossing her heels underneath the table and dropping to her knees, a sinful smile plastered on her lips. 

She stared at the bulge in your pants now the center of attention for several seconds as her hands quickly yanked your pants and boxers off, gasping quietly at your freed cock. There was an obvious hunger in her eyes as she wrapped her slim fingers around it, stroking it up and down slowly as you leaked over her fingers. 

“Guess you needed this badly?” she asked with a grin, licking up and down your length and swirling around your swollen head, causing more pre-cum to dribble out of your dripping slit and catching it all with her tongue as you let out a light groan.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so I hope my oral skills will be up to par,” Sakura nervously said. 

“Nonsense, there’s nothing you aren’t good at.” 

Sakura’s expression became determined, and she wanted to prove herself. Her pretty mouth planted a kiss on your shaft before she swallowed up your tip, silky-soft lips making contact and wrapping around the first couple inches and sucking gently, hollowing her cheeks as you instinctively moan.

The pleasure sent shivers up and down your spine even as she barely took you into her mouth. Her lips felt incredible, so soft and warm and tightly pressed around your shaft. Sakura looked so pretty on her knees as she pleased you and began bobbing her head up and down, applying more pressure and using her tongue alongside her lips, flicking against the underside of your shaft to give even more pleasure.

“You’re definitely still good at that,” you said, interrupting your groans and moans. Sakura looked into your eyes and increased her pace in response, her warm mouth moving forward and giving a loud slurp of your shaft that would drive any recipient of such an intense blowjob absolutely wild.

The lust in Sakura’s beautiful round eyes was obvious as she sucked you off, enjoying it almost as much as you were. She didn’t keep either of her hands idle, one caressing your thigh while the other kept pumping your hard shaft. 

Sakura kept her sultry gaze on you as she kept you inside her wet mouth, her lips sealed tight as they did the majority of the work. Little by little, she swallowed even more of you up, leaving a wet trail of warm saliva glazing your shaft as she took you halfway inside without any trouble. 

With each bob of her head, she edged closer towards the end of your shaft before she withdrew to your tip, her gifted mouth sliding back and forth with ease as if she had done it hundreds of times before.

You took several deep breaths while Sakura worked her magic between your legs, still awestruck by what was happening to you. Her lips went deeper, much deeper, almost to the base of your cock. She gagged a bit with every attempt but didn’t stop, not wanting to disappoint both herself and you, she wasn’t a quitter.

Once Sakura had mostly relaxed her throat and tamed her gag reflex she went wild, using her ability to deepthroat your shaft effortlessly and giving you the full amount of pleasure. 

“Oh fuck, that feels so fucking good.” 

Sakura used her deadly eyes to acknowledge you as she used long strokes from tip to base, slurping on your cock loudly and bobbing her head at a faster pace, using a free hand to fondle and massage your full balls as her own arousal levels spiking at your moans. 

You helped her out - not that she needed it, but you needed an outlet for the sharp pleasure running every fiber of your body and ran a hand through the soft strands of her dark blue hair, guiding her movements. When your tip struck the back of her throat she tightened around your shaft, causing an involuntary series of loud, throaty moans escaping in response. 

She gave it her all, going wild and sucking your cock with a fierceness and speed you had never felt before, resting herself at your base and staring up until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her lips left your shaft and pulled herself off as she furiously stroked your cock, and you were thankful to have a much-needed break. 

“Not bad, huh?” she said, with a strong sense of confidence. 

“Gonna be still feeling that in the morning, it was that good,” you said, feeling a bit lightheaded. “Let me return the favor.” 

Sakura didn’t give any protest and smiled as she stood upright, finding yourself still reeling from the pleasure she had given. She did her part, pulling her white top over her head and showing off her breasts encased in a blue lace bra. They weren’t the biggest, but they matched her body type, nice and perky and plentiful enough to grab a handful of. 

You let aggression take over for a moment and lifted Sakura on the table, laying her down on top of piles of papers and files everywhere. She welcomed the change in mood as you pulled her bra down, exposing her perky pale tits and feasting on them with your eyes.

Like a fire had been lit inside, your lips embraced again, this time with additional tongue, forgoing passionate kisses for sloppy wet kisses which were immediately returned. You kissed down her neck, planting several kisses on her sensitive skin before moving down to her collarbone, and finally reaching her chest. 

Not wasting a second you dove into her breasts and sucked on Sakura’s pretty pink nipples, earning several soft moans, and keeping your hands full as much as possible, sucking harshly and loudly, wet noises matching the volume of her cute whiny moans.

“That feels really good,” she said, her eyes even more filled with lust and desire. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?” you asked, and continued to lather up her sensitive nipples, suckling on them without any restraint as if you were intoxicated by the sounds Sakura let out.

She shook her head. 

“Since we started working together. I never forget those tight short skirts you always wear. But I kept all my thoughts drowned in my head.”

“Such a professional,” she teased. “But now you have me, so do with me what you want.” 

What a perfect invitation. As if to demonstrate, you placed a hand on her back and picked her up, spinning her body around as her palms went flat on the table. Planting a few kisses on her lower back, you squeezed her ass through her skirt before harshly yanking it down, exposing her delicious backside. Sakura’s ass was perfect, plump and round and the matching blue thong that nestled in between her cheeks was the only thing standing in your way.

You squeezed her warm flesh again wantonly, thoroughly enjoying her body and kneading it for several seconds, the softness of her cheeks brought nothing but joy to your senses. Keeping things going, you brought your mouth to her cheeks and planted your lips on each one, scraping your teeth gently against her skin and nibbling on them just a bit as Sakura gasped. 

“You must like my ass,” she said.

“I love all of you, but especially your ass.” 

“I’ll make a mental note to wear less underwear around you then,” she said, giving a cute smirk. 

Just the thought aroused you even more, and you gave her core a few licks through the delicate thin fabric of her thong, feeling a dampness there already.

“So wet.” 

“I have you to blame for that.” 

A few more licks up and down her pussy through her underwear made Sakura tremble as she moved her hips back towards your mouth. Before you could give her any more momentum you pulled away and flipped her body back over, her thighs planted firmly on the edge of the table as you took in the sight of such a delightful tight body. 

“I never got to tell you what a sexy fucking body you have.”

“Well now you did,” Sakura smiled. You peppered her tight tummy in several places with kisses before kneeling to the ground and grabbed the waistband of her thong. She lifted her legs up to help and you peeled it off her body, spreading her legs wide and enjoying the view. 

“Beautiful.” 

Sakura blushed. The same word could describe both her delicious looking pussy, and everything about Sakura. Her pink pussy lips glistened already, and you couldn’t wait to have a taste. 

You weren’t going to dive right in though, preferring to warm her up even though she was plenty wet. Lips firmly making contact on her soft creamy thighs, you kissed and licked them numerous times, hearing needy moans escaping as you ate them up, debating whether to leave marks on her pristine pale skin. 

Sakura whined. “You won’t tease me will you?” You responded with more kisses on her thighs before looking up.

“Only if you want me to.” 

“I-I don’t. Not now.” 

“Then I won’t,” you replied, giving a long lick up and down her wet slit and tasting her for the first time, proudly earning a cute whimper. 

“So delicious.” 

Running your tongue through Sakura's wet folds, you licked them clean as you explored her pussy. Keeping her legs spread wide open, you watched the contorted pleasure on her face as you dove in and devoured her pussy, sweet juices coating your tongue as every lick made Sakura melt. 

"Y-you're so good at that," she moaned, hips squirming and writhing, trying to grind herself against your tongue. 

You kept one hand on her tight stomach as you ate her out, her encouraging moans being music to your ears. Dragging your tongue up and down her folds you found her sensitive clit and flicked against it, earning even louder moans, this time more high-pitched. 

With your lips sealed against her clit, you turned her into a squirming mess, endlessly turned on by seeing a side of Sakura you never had before. Loud erotic moans continued by the second as she let herself go, juices leaking more and more into your mouth and you lapped up all of her nectar. 

Her taste was unforgettable and you could have eaten her pussy out for hours given the chance. Slow flicks against her clit turned into a merciless speed, feeling her body trembling as she was unable to keep herself stationary as her splayed out limbs moved on their own, chasing that desirable bliss as her hands formed tight fists. 

“Fuck, I'm so close, don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop."

You gave her the extra pleasure she needed, slurping away on her clit and adding extra pressure, honing in and helping her climax. Her moaning went frantic as you kept your lips surrounding her swollen nub, watching the bliss on her face as her movements became uncontrollable.

"I-I'm gonna cum!" she moaned, and not long after you felt her juices gushing into your mouth. Her back arched violently, hips bucking wildly and toes curling as you kept your face in between her thighs. She desperately grabbed your hair and kept you buried against her center as she rode out her explosive orgasm, drenching your lips and chin and feeling absolutely breathless. 

Sakura came beautifully for what felt like several minutes, slowly coming down from her high, chest heaving and gasping for air. Once her senses recovered her glazed over eyes looked into yours, showing approval and deep satisfaction. 

"It's been a while since I came that hard," she said, still struggling to catch her breath and her eyes looking delirious. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

Sakura shook her head. “I’m not. I swear I saw stars for a sec, that’s how good you were.” 

You didn’t know how to respond, but Sakura did. “Let’s not waste time. Fuck me now?” she said, half asking, half commanding.

You rose quickly and obeyed, lining yourself up and finding the right angle as you nudged your shaft against her wet opening. You didn’t enter yet, running your tip between her silky pink lips, feeling the slick collecting against your hard flesh. 

“You said you wouldn’t tease,” she whined, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I did...but I still need to have a little fun with you.” 

She pouted as you felt more heat around your shaft, running yourself through her wetness. You aimed your cock carefully pushed forward against her hole, parting her wet pussy lips enough to penetrate her tight walls. You both gasped. 

Sakura was insanely tight. Most girls you’d been in were tight, but not like this, she had a vice-like grip on your cock. Her wetness was equal to how tight she was, and before even moving you just rested inside her and savored the sensations around your shaft. 

You watched for any discomfort as you pushed deeper inside Sakura, feeling even more tightness as she was filled halfway before withdrawing and earning another whine. 

Not giving her a chance to complain again you entered her again, slowly moving inch by inch until you had filled her to the hilt, resting every bit of your cock inside Sakura and keeping an eye on how she reacted to you. 

Her expression showed she was more than ready, and with the wetness you felt surrounding your cock she certainly felt ready, you cursed yourself for taking this long to do this. 

“You okay?” you asked. 

“I’m fine. Fuck me,” she demanded. You were quick to give in to her whims, using your hips as you moved in and out slowly, feeling your shaft being smothered with how wet and tight she felt, not to mention the incredible warmth that flooded everywhere and overwhelmed your senses. 

With your hands grabbing her slim her waist you pumped inside her at a gentle pace, wanting to feel every bit of her tight pussy and every sensation that smothered your cock. 

“Fuck, you’re so big. We never should have waited this long.” 

“We shouldn’t have. You’re so fucking tight, Sakura.” 

“I am, right? Fuck me, you feel so good inside already.” 

Her words and moans were the best encouragement, keeping steady hands on her waist as you upped the pace, thrusting more of you inside as your shaft became wetter. 

“That’s it, fuck me harder,” she demanded. Her hot flesh wrapped so tightly around your shaft as you moved in and out of Sakura, you felt like you were in another world. Her body was so tight and perfect, slim in all the right places with beautiful pale skin everywhere.

With every single thrust, you filled her tight hole up, your cock fitting so perfectly inside her as you stretched her out wide, feeling those slick walls forming around your cock and keeping you inside her where you belonged. 

It wasn’t enough to just fuck Sakura, you needed to experience all of her as you lifted her legs straight up into the air and let her ankles rest on your shoulder, never stopping the motion of your thrusts for a second. 

As you hugged her perfect legs Sakura felt much tighter, letting her satisfaction be known as you gave deeper and harder thrusts, her warm wet flesh feeling so damn good to plunge all of your cock into. It helped that she had gotten even wetter, her slick juices helping out with lubrication to allow smooth penetration as you slid in and out of her. 

“You’re so deep. I love it. Keep stretching me out.” 

You quickened the pace even more to Sakura’s delight, her eyes filled with pleasure and lust as you fucked her hard enough to make the table shake. Thankfully, her frame was small enough that you didn’t think it was a problem, but you decided to move the action elsewhere just in case. 

With a few more deep thrusts you scooped her off the table, withdrawing and carefully pulling her body off and licking her several times before rotating her body so her back was towards you. Nearly ripping her bra open, you yanked it off her body, leaving the two of you fully nude as piles of clothes strayed everywhere both on the floor and the table in front. 

“I rarely see you this aggressive. I like this side of you,” Sakura said, showing a smirk that didn’t last long as you bent her tight petite body over, her palms resting on the grey table. She looked back silently, eyes giving off what she needed. 

“I’m warmed up enough, go all in,” she demanded. 

Such an undeniable request would not go unanswered as you pushed her down even flatter, her back arching as you ran your hands all over her warm smooth skin. You didn’t let her stay empty for long, sliding back inside her with one long stroke to the hilt, allowing her tight walls to squeeze around you as began another rhythm as you began fucking her from behind. 

“Fuck...right there,” she said as you hit her spot with ease, spending little time with build up as you worked back up to your steady pace. With both hands grabbing her hips, she kept her back arched as you began to slam your hips against her ass, flesh jiggling every time you plunged in deep. The room became hotter as your bodies warmed up, sweat misting over the skin of both parties. 

“That’s so good, you fuck me so well.” 

Sakura looked back ever often as you thrusted harshly inside her pussy, letting you know she was enjoying everything you were doing to her. She reached behind her and found one of your wrists, guiding it to her breasts, and you got the message as you cupped and squeezed them both, hips moving wildly and uncontrollably.

The harder you fucked Sakura the wetter she felt, keeping your hands full of her perky tits as you played with her nipples, teasing and bringing out all the sensitivity in them as you kept yourself moving in and out as deep as possible in her.

You wanted to up the ante, not satisfied with such a simple position and grabbed both of Sakura’s slender arms and brought them behind her, pulling her body back up until she was mostly upright. Still keeping the motion going during the change of position, you hooked her arms and brought her body up against your chest as you took away her control.

With her ability to grab anything taken away you went wild, pounding into her tight hole as fast and hard as you could, pistoning into her hot pussy with every bit of energy and force as she screamed in delight. 

Sakura’s cries of pleasure went on and on as you hit all the right spots, your sweaty bodies smacking against each other, as harsh sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room. You were taking all of your stress and tension out on fucking Sakura, and she was more than happy to absorb it all, every thrust powerful and strong and without warning, she came again. 

She drowned your cock in her slick juices, messily leaking everywhere and you tried to keep her upright as her legs turned to jelly as you fucked her through her powerful orgasm, only slowing down your pace when she had ridden it all out. 

Sakura could barely stand, her legs still shaking rendered useless as you helped her over to the table and she braced herself against it.

“You okay?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering. 

“Never been better,” she said in between tired breaths and laid down on the table in a familiar position, flat on her back. 

“As much as I want to ride you I don’t think this table will hold us both.” 

“There’s always the floor,” you teased. 

“Nothing’s sexier than a girl with rug burn,” she said mockingly. 

“Table it is then.”

And just like before she spread herself out, this time her completely nude body ripe for the taking, legs spread wide and arms over her head. 

“Besides, I like seeing your face when you fuck me.”

With smiles exchanged you didn’t waste time, sliding back inside her, her wetness being even more abundant now. 

“You’re drenched. You always get this wet?” 

She nodded her head. “When somebody makes me cum as hard as you did, yes. I get even messier when there’s a bed involved,” she said with a devilish smile. “Now come on, it’s your turn.” 

Trying to process her words, you resumed thrusting full speed, knowing that the finish line was just in reach. Gripping her soft warm thighs, you kept the rhythm up, every thrust deep as possible as Sakura grabbed both sides of the desk, desperate for anything to hold on to. 

Words didn’t mean much for either of you at this point in time, communication only existed in moans and obscenities. You made every thrust count as her perky breasts bounced as best as they could, driving your cock deep inside her pretty pussy and never wanted to leave her wet warmth. 

Sakura let her eyes close temporarily as the pleasure took hold over both of you, letting you savor the use of her body as your hips pistoned like a machine. The wet sound of her tight hole being drilled was the only thing you could focus on, you couldn’t hold on much longer. 

“Sakura…” you gasped out, unable to say much more than her name on your lips. Her eyes opened, sparkling wide. 

“Just cum inside me.” 

She didn’t need to say anything else. Her thighs still in your hands, you pumped yourself inside her for as long as you could without slowing down, both of you eagerly awaiting your climax.

The air in the room became lighter, everything else was a blur as you buried your cock inside Sakura’s pussy. Her gaze striking and anticipating your release, you hit your limits and let go of everything before erupting. Groaning loudly and throbbing inside her, you shot your thick cum deep inside Sakura, filling her up deep with your warmth to the brim, emptying everything you had saved up until her walls were a sticky mess. 

You kept moving inside her until you couldn’t as Sakura milked every drop out of your shaft, resting inside her as your orgasm ran wild over your body. Sakura had watched every second of your explosive climax and loved every moment. 

“It feels so good. Fuck, it’s so thick and warm,” Sakura said with an enthusiastic grin. 

You kept yourself inside her a while longer, not wanting to escape her warmth but also wanted to see the mess you had left inside her. You slowly withdrew your cock an inch at a time, and immediately your creamy load began leaking out of her splayed lips and dripping down her flushed thighs. 

“I should clean that off,” she volunteered. Too tired to respond, you watched as she gingerly moved off the table and knelt, gathering what was left on your depleted shaft, licking clean the combination of both of your fluids and satisfied with it all. 

“How’s that for some tension relief?” Sakura asked, giving an exhausted smile.

“I...really needed that. Thanks.” 

“You did, but no need to thank me. What good of a partner would I be if I didn’t help you out?” 

“Couldn’t ask for a better partner.” 

Sakura scrambled around the room retrieving her clothes and took a seat back on the table. She looked beautiful in the light, her hair out of place, sweat glistening all over her body, you didn’t want the sensual image to be broken.

“Not yet. I like seeing you naked.”

She smiled shyly in response. “Do you now? It was your first time seeing me like this. With any luck, it won’t be the last.” 

“You have more plans for me, Miss Miyawaki?”

“Of course. Not done with you just yet. Might turn this into a weekly thing.” 

“Let’s make it twice a week.” 

“Don’t get greedy on me,” she laughed. “But I could live with that.” 

“Sounds perfect. They have showers upstairs you know.”

“Wanting to go again so soon?” 

“I’m just getting started.” 

“In that case, let’s skip the shower and you can spend the night at my place.” 

“Think you can handle me all night?” you asked teasingly.

“Oh, I think it’s me you’ll have trouble with. You always did run out of stamina before I did,” she fired back playfully. “You can pick up a spare shirt in the morning, there’s a convenience store two blocks from here.” 

“What are we waiting for then?” 

[neshabeingchildish]

Road to Dystopia Pt. 2

I added a few people to the tag that interacted with me since the previous update, but y’all let me know if you want to be taken off. I don’t have the next update written out yet (this one, I wrote mostly when I wrote the first chapter), so the last update might be a little bit further away than the space between these two, but regular readers know that generally, I try to keep turnaround time for updates pretty concise. They get harder the longer a fic is, but fortunately, this little guy only has one more chapter. Thank you to all of you taking this short journey with me, because while it is one of my smaller works, I still am putting the same big amount of energy into it that I put into all of this work for us. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the last.

@sunbeameyes @kiddangers @bitchmilsky @adorkable-blackgirl @chenoahchantel @daintyurbanprincess @ciara-knightly @famousflowermagazine @imma-sensitive-btch @junknstu1f @grymrayven 

Listening to Charlotte

Charlotte wiped her eyes and dried her hands on Jasper's chest before pacing, catching her breath, and giving herself a low volume speech. "Okay, Charlotte. A plan. What next? If Henry's… if the Man Cave… if… Schwoz!" She snapped her fingers. "We have to contact Schwoz. He'll have backup supplies somewhere.” She patted herself, "My phone! It was on the table." She looked expectantly at Jasper, because his was usually in his pocket.

"I left mine on the couch," Jasper said, miserably, not ready to wipe his own tears yet but trying not to bawl in front of Charlotte, because she was really pulling herself together and trying to think things through. 

She was brilliant. She always saved the day, somehow, or at least helped to the point that it couldn’t have been done without her. Maybe not hands on, but definitely behind the scenes. He was grateful for her right now. Without her, he'd be freaking out and wailing to the skies. Maybe even calling out Henry's name himself and breaking down. But, Charlotte's brave face was giving him something akin to hope, or maybe he was just desperate to cling to the one friend that Henry's last words to him were to save her. Henry. He couldn't stop wondering about him, but Charlotte’s mood changed and broke into his Henry worries… "Fuss at me. Tell me how let down you are by me," he heard her say, with a small voice.

"What?" He asked. 

When he looked at her, she'd stopped pacing and was just staring angrily at the sky with her fists and teeth clenched. She was coming up short for ideas and her motivational speeches became voices of the Man Cave, voices that she was a little too weak to combat. "That's what usually happens, even when I'm doing my job. Now, I’ve completely failed Henry. Why aren't you complaining about me? Why aren't you talking to me like I'm an idiot? You've done it for less. THIS is the time for it!" She said. 

"I'm… sorry. I never should have done that. There was never a time to talk to you like that. You're no idiot, Charlotte and you didn't fail anybody."

"Tell that to Henry," she mumbled, and as though on cue, they heard a loud crashing noise and looked to see an explosion that tore part of the Swellview sign off of Mount Swellview. They both screamed. A series of explosions and the collapse of the sign and rocks, they watched in horror. Charlotte covered her mouth with both hands and Jasper fell to his knees, the breakdown finally imminent. 

"Charlotte?" She heard through her headset. It was Piper. "Did you see that? What the heck happened?" Piper didn't know that Henry went down with the blimp and Charlotte couldn't find her voice, but she realized something.. the headset was connected via a network outside of the Man Cave… which meant that she should still be able to reach Schwoz!

"I'll get back to you," she told Piper, knowing her voice betrayed her feelings, but there was no way that she was saying something when she didn’t have anything good to say. She tapped her ear and called softly, "Schwoz?"

Schwoz told her, "Charlotte! You made it out of the Man Cave!" He had never sounded more excited to hear her voice. "I am collecting Ray in a helicopter. We're going to go to the mountains and search for Henry."

"Can you pick up me and Jasper? We're outside of…" she looked at the rubble, sadly…"What used to be Junk N Stuff…" she watched Jasper, now clenching the ground, toppled over and shuddering with cries. 

"Yes. Stay where you are… I'm glad you made it, Girlfriend." Schwoz said. 

Jasper couldn't hear them or anything else. The sounds of the explosions and the mountain falling was roaring in his ears. Each new loud sound made him jump and started a new flow of tears. He couldn't hear anything else until he heard Charlotte say his name. "Jasper?" His eyes stung and he was grief stricken, but he faced her. She got down on her knees and said, "Hey..  Schwoz is coming to get us, okay? You.. wanna hold my hand until he gets here?"

"He must've been so lonely…" Jasper said, his dirty hand taking the one that she extended and hanging on to it, for everything sacred. She had been thinking about that too. Henry's reaction when he realized that they were leaving him for school literally broke her heart. She didn't want his last moments to be anything like that. "How was I gonna just leave him?" Jasper asked her. "How was I gonna just go away to school?"

"You deserve a chance to leave this place, Jasper. Don't beat yourself up. Henry… wouldn't have held it against you."

He wiped his eye, but then got ground dirt into it and groaned, "I am so stupid!" 

"No you're not!" She squealed. He used his shirt to clear his eye, then looked at her. She was pointing at him, but not touching him as she punctuated, "You're brave. You're strong. You're a hero. You fought for us. Freed everybody from the Cavemen. You just saved my life. Henry would be proud of you for moving forward. I know he would be, because I am." She sighed, "and right now, Buddy, I need you to be brave and strong again, one more time, then you never have to, if you don't want to.” He was staring at her with puffy blue eyes, waiting for whatever she had to say next, attentive, because he could tell it was important. “We might find Henry, we might not, but… we've gotta try. Whatever we might see, it’ll be SO hard, Jasper. It’ll be hard for both of us, but..”

"Got it. I'm… I'll be brave and strong. For you."

"And Henry," she added. He nodded. She noted that he still wasn't saying his name. But, at least, he was picking himself up off of the ground and he helped her up, as well. 

.

Whenever they checked into the hotel, Jasper and Henry carried their stuff to the room, and upon opening the door, they looked at the provisions. It was meant for one person. They weren’t rich, and the guys decided to join her on pretty short notice, so this was what it was for the time being. A simple and clean spot for a temporary charity worker. “I talked with the leader of the team and she’ll try to get us a bigger room after a few months or so of service. They’re a charity, so you know… They can’t just snap their fingers and give us resources,” she said.

Jasper and Henry both answered at the same time. “This is better than my house,” and “I thought I was gonna be in a coffin, so…” respectively. They followed her lead on how to set the room up as best as they could for the three of them and when it was all done, they all stared at the bed. Up until then, they had been together pretty much since Kid Danger’s death, but they also had more space for this type of thing. They’d been pretty much sleeping over at Charlotte’s house and even pushing the beds together and using them as one was a little more room than what they had here. 

“It’s too small for your height and too small for your weight,” she told Jasper and Henry. “We need to reinforce the frame, and maybe set up a footstool on the end.”

“Whatever it takes,” Henry said, with a shrug. She nodded. It was new, getting used to them just listening to her, so she didn’t want to get too comfortable with it just yet, but she did like that little rejoice of not having to explain and argue with them as to why her ideas worked.

“Where do we get what we need to do that?” Jasper asked.

“Well… First, I need to install my security system in here, so that nobody can break in while we’re gone. Then, you guys can come with me to report to the charity base. I’ll figure out where we can start trying to get supplies and stuff on the way?” She said it uncertain, because of the newness, but both of them simply nodded their heads, trusting that whatever she said - it was the right thing.

.

"I feel useless! I need a computer or something!" Charlotte fussed. Jasper was operating a drone, Schwoz was flying the helicopter, and she was looking through binoculars. Piper and Ray had taken a separate copter, and she honestly couldn't figure out how Piper could manage, but Piper insisted that she could "just feel" that Henry was okay. Charlotte didn't know that feeling at the time. "Schwoz, do you have anything that I could use to help, or scan, or something useful?"

"Well… I do have an experimental cyberchip implant that could put an interactive computer inside of your brain with nanotechnology."

"What?" Jasper asked, while Char asked, "You have it on you?"

"Yes, it's in my pocket, but the implantation would be crude because I don't have tools and we are in a helicopter. And it will also hurt a lot going in."

"Okay," she said and nodded.

"NOT Okay!" Jasper said. "I'm not one of the smarties, but I know that "experimental" means that neither of you know what to that's gonna do if you try to use it!"

"It's gonna help us maybe find Henry," Charlotte said.

"Or make us lose you! Getting a "crude" implant of an experimental chip on a helicopter, Charlotte…" Jasper was panicked. 

"Jasper. It's gonna be okay. Schwoz is a genius."

"Awww," Schwoz said.

Jasper rubbed his temples with his fingertips, shaking his head at the mere thought of things going wrong… "Jasper. I'm not leaving you, okay?" She said. He sighed. He hated it, but he had to take her word. He nodded. "Let's do this, Schwoz." Schwoz wasn't kidding. It hurt like hell! The first incision was okay, but the chip entering her head and trying to function was excruciating and she tried not to show it because Jasper was already losing it. 

"Is my vision supposed to change?" She asked, trying not to sound alarmed by the way her eyesight felt like she was receiving stats in a VR game or something. "I have like… robo-vision…" 

"Well, that can happen…" Schwoz said. "You don't have any additional hardware besides your brain available."

"How do I change these settings?" She wondered, wanting to change the mode of vision. She was worried, but she needed to try to act cool. Jasper had lost all of his shit when the blimp crashed, and even though she was a mess on the inside, she knew that she had to be cool headed through this mission. She tried not to think of it as recovering his remains, but she knew that everybody but the denial stricken Piper was thinking it.

Schwoz handed Charlotte his cell phone and opened the app he made for the microchip. That was more like it. She began to change the way her vision was set up, Jasper noted her eyes changing color and form as she did, and whenever she set it to bioscan, she looked over the mountain and began to search. He resumed his drone duties.

Piper hung back in the helicopter that she was flying as Captain Man scoured the crash site, inch by inch, moving him as needed and occasionally checking her phone to see if the connection had picked up the signal of Henry’s, and to ignore messages from their parents, asking to be in the loop when they straight up left them to blow up in the Man Cave in the first place. Henry would probably forgive them for that, but she wasn’t going to any time soon.

“I see something,” Charlotte said on the radio. “Piper… I’ll send you coordinates to bring Ray. I… I think that I found Henry’s bioscan..” She said. She knew that the equipment in her noggin was experimental, so the fact that it was reading as a living person, she wasn’t going to say… just in case. But, also… she hoped… and also… she wondered if the chip wasn’t just giving a false reading altogether and there was nothing there.

Whenever she heard Ray ask, “Where are you, Kid?” in the saddest, softest voice she had heard from him yet, even today, she figured that it was a fluke in the chip, but she heard something. Muffled groaning, but… DEFINITELY Henry! “Right here, Dude.. Ugh. It’s gonna take forever. This is… this was not my best idea. From now on, I should really listen to Charlotte. Well… some babies lived…”

“Henry?” She called out.

Ray said into the radio, “Okay, so I’m not the only one who heard that?” 

“Get my brother from under those rocks!” Piper squealed. 

They landed and hiked nearby to try to work on freeing him. Charlotte rolled a huge rock that Ray and Jasper had been struggling with away, to everybody’s surprise and Henry was there, glowing green. “It’s really him!” Jasper cheered and laughed in disbelief. They began to pull away all of the rest of the rocks to get him uncovered and he stopped glowing green and passed out. “HENRY???” Jasper called out, saying his name finally, after hours of not being able to even mutter it. 

Charlotte tapped on the screen of Schwoz’s phone and scanned him, “He’s exhausted himself. I think he was holding that forcefield this entire time, scared that he might get crushed if he stopped.”

“Let’s get him to the Man Cave… Oh…” Piper said and dropped her shoulders. 

“I’ve got a place,” Schwoz said. 

Ray lifted Henry into his arms and everyone wanted to be on the helicopter with Henry, so after a little bit of the team fussing, Charlotte said, “Let’s just come back for the second helicopter after we’ve gotten Henry settled.” Everyone. Listened. She laughed and wondered, finally relieved because Henry was okay, “Did this chip give me ‘being listened to’ superpowers?” 

“It’s not programmed for that,” Schwoz said. She didn’t care to explain that she was joking, but he didn’t give her a chance to, anyway. “It’s also not programmed for the strength to move an extremely large rock. What happened there?”

She furrowed her eyebrows and said, “If YOU don’t know, I CERTAINLY don’t!”

“We’ll check it out in the Man Nest.”

“In the what?” She asked. He just smiled and looked over at Ray, hoping to make eye contact, but Ray was looking at Henry, in his arms, and only looked up after he felt eyes on him. 

“The Man Nest,” Schwoz repeated, not expounding, because soon, they would see it.

.

Charlotte groaned and took the chip out of the side of her head and set it into a tiny bowl. Henry peeked into the bathroom and watched as she pulled the purple locks of hair up, away from her face and examined the tiny slit in her face. "What's going on?" He wondered.

"Got the new and improved cyberchip in the mail," she said. "Schwoz says that with the upgrades, I'll be able to get the Dystopia police records as well."

"Uhhh…" Henry said, trying to respond like he knew what that meant…

"I'll know beforehand which cops are dirty. If someone who's flagged as such is closest to the scene, we at least know that we won't be able to trust them," She explained as she worked on implanting the upgraded chip into the side of her head. 

"That looks SO uncomfortable," Henry said.

"Only during this part. When I get it into place and the nanotechnology works with my DNA, it's almost like I become the information… Ooh!" She yelped, pained.

"Ooh, what? What do you mean by Ooh!?" He asked.

Jasper came barging in, asking, "What was that "Ooh" for?" 

Charlotte held both of her hands out and stared at her reflection as her vision began to change when her mind downloaded the information and her body integrated Schwoz's chip with her body. Her eyes changed and Jasper and Henry gasped and held on to each other. She tapped the side of her head and her eyes returned to normal. "This upgrade SLAPS!" She said. 

She heard a beep and looked down at her arm to see a little screen, "Oooh, new feature!" 

"What is.. how is it doing that?" Jasper asked.

"If I waste my time explaining the science, you still wouldn't understand. So, I'll just say this.. there is technology in my body, but I STILL am not a robot." She laughed and slapped Jasper on the butt. "Stop looking all scared. You weren't scared of me not being me last night." She winked at him. 

"Good point," he said, nodding. Henry laughed. 

She picked up the previous one that she had since the day they were looking for Henry. "Is it stupid that I want it for sentimental value?"

"No. It helped you to find me." He took it from her fingertips, "I can turn it into a pendant for you?"

"Cool," she said with a smile, and headed for the bedroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and put it in a little trinket box for later. Whenever he came out, Charlotte was already snuggling up to Jasper, both of them in boy shorts and tank tops, the standard issue sleepwear that Charlotte ordered for the base. Henry hated those things on himself, but on them… 

He came to bed too and Charlotte reached out and collected him by the hand, to pull  him into the snuggle. They’d talk for hours, just like this and fall to sleep in their tiny bed. Most of the conversation that they had was either at the base, where they did their charity work, or here, at home. They couldn’t really do this in public. 

Dystopia streets were always searching for a weakness and somebody close to you definitely qualified. People walked next to spouses like they were strangers heading the same way. Sometimes, whenever they were on the train, Jasper and Char would play a game where they tried to guess if two or more people knew each other. Is that her lover? Is that his kid? They’d quietly discuss why or why not. Henry would linger nearby, keeping an eye on them, but not engaging. They were already doing too much playing those little games! But, it brought them a little bit of joy, so he couldn’t deny them. They deserved all their moments of joy, as far as he was concerned. 

But, he loved being able to do this with them every night. And... once they started listening to each other, he realized that Charlotte was actually smarter than he even ever knew in the first place and Jasper was wildly attentive and low-key hilarious. He talked the least, of the three, but they always pulled him into conversations. They liked the way he would start talking about one thing and go on an entire long tangent to several other things, forgetting his original point, sometimes, but at least being open with them. He liked that too. He hadn’t had a lot of time in the past to just openly talk about things, casual or crucial, and he had not previously had anyone there to not only just LISTEN to those thoughts, but to actually admire him for speaking them. He was usually the first one to go to sleep. The other two tended to watch over him for a while longer. 

Charlotte called it the wind down reverse. Whenever it was time to jump into action, she was first, then Jasper followed, then Henry. But, whenever it was time to settle. Henry was first, then Jasper, then herself. They spent their waking hours making sure that they didn’t rest until she was definitely safe, and she didn’t rest until she noted that little fact to herself every night.

[jbbuckybarnes]

Zerfall - 6/14

Pairing: Bucky x named!Reader (Agent Andromeda) Summary: After Hydra drops virus bombs in 7 major American cities in the height of summer, the team is locked in their emergency bunker for weeks. The virus commonly called the Summer Poison successfully brought the infrastructure to a halt in all big cities. When the virus slowly starts burning itself out SHIELD Agents and Avengers are sent out to bring back order into the cities and the international relationships. Not without hurdles. Warnings for this chapter: Pandemic, crime, canon typical violence, flirting, picturing killing as a positive thing, weird grammar. Not beta read. **Image credit goes to Ubisoft.

Zerfall Masterlist || M a s t e r l i s t

You’d been walking for about half a block when you were yanked towards a bus to hide behind. “There’s five of them, northeast,” he whispered and got the AR off his back. You scanned the area, “It’s not five. It’s 8, great,” you mumbled. “I go left, you go right,” he ordered and after a little countdown by hand you slowly sneaked your way from car to car until you were both close enough. You took the safety off two pistols before looking over and nodding. Both of you came out of your covers in perfect sync, killing 5 of them instantly. Three of them run to get cover and you ran EADA again to know where all of them were exactly. An easier thing to do if you had those damn contact lenses. “Damn agents!” One of them yelled. “Shut up, whiny baby,” you yelled back, getting out of cover in time to land a perfect headshot. “The Vultures will come for you, bitch!” Another one yelled. “Sorry, can’t hear you over how good I’ll land a headshot on you.” You smirked and landed the next one in sync with Bucky. “Don’t call my partner a bitch,” he said before walking to the cover of the last one, grabbing him with his metal arm and holding him up. “Help us or die,” he growled up at the young man. “No,” he croaked before going unconscious and being thrown onto the floor and hit in the heart by another shot. “I see, you like a little bit of the drama too.” You chuckled before helping him search through their weapons and ammunition. “Always.” He grinned over, picking up a few cartridges of ammo and chugging them into his bag on the back of his tactical belt. “Let’s get going then. We need to get to a safe house today.” You smiled and cut the dog tags off the dead bodies that had them. His brow went up, “Wanna count how many people betrayed their country. And maybe these come in handy if they have a boss that actually cares about them.” “Forget it, only psychopaths would start something like this.” He kicked the man that had insulted her earlier. It seemed to really annoy him. Maybe it was just his 40s brain that wanted the respect for a woman, cause he definitely had a foul mouth in the army and didn’t expect her to not curse like a sailor. He actually was kinda excited about that part for some reason.

On the way to the safe house you came across some groups of three, taking them down easily in less than a few seconds. You were already starting to work in perfect sync when it came to combat. You made note of the buildings that were clearly guarded and when you got to the Consulate General of Mexico you made note of all the guards and scanned the area. 12 people that you could see and scan for. “Guarding duty is the most boring thing ever.” One of them mumbled to the other and you looked over at Bucky who winked back at you while getting a grenade from his belt. “Hm, at least it isn’t patrolling.” Something clinked onto the floor in between the two guards on the left and the one on the right. Before they could even start a word there was an explosion and you got out your AR and he got out his. “Showtime.” you grinned while taking aim at all the suddenly alert and confused guards. One, two, three, four, five, all dead in less than a minute. 4 left in their cover. Bucky took the marksman rifle from his back and aimed up at where they were hiding. Hitting them with astonishing accuracy, hearing a thud after each one. “Wow, that was impressive, Barnes,” you said surprised at the actual level of skill he had from his tortured years. “Glad I can use it for good now,” he answered as if he was able to read your thoughts at that moment. “I’m glad too.” You smiled over at him before you both stormed into the building, checking for more guards inside and taking 4 out with silencers on your pistols or a knife into their throat. “I really got the best agent as a partner, huh?” He grinned as you walked toward a safety door. “I guess you do.” You grinned back before hacking the door open. As he wanted to close the door behind you, you gestured him to stop. “Loot the dudes outside and bring as much of the weapons and ammo inside of here for other agents,” you ordered him and got a serious nod back. Your eyes scanned the room for a laptop or computer with a drive attached to it and after a while of looking around you found it. “Gotcha.” You smirked hacking your way through the information, downloading it onto your EADA. While it was doing that you finally took the backpack that was sitting in a locker and went through it. “Finally.” You breathed out exhausted, getting a look from Bucky that was just dumping some guns into the room. You got out the SAID agent vest that was going to regenerate by itself and put it around your chest. Then you made a dig through the side pockets for the contact lenses, getting another weirded out look from your partner. “What the hell are you doing?” He finally spoke out what went through his head. “These link up to the watch and I can see where enemies are hiding and where friendlies are if they fight with us. I also have a scope attachment that can do that if you ever need that,” you explained to him with a proud smile on your face. He shook his head grinning, “You’re a nerd.” After you got both of your backpacks situated into one and everything was done with your equipment, you wandered back to the computer that had finished with the drive a few minutes before. “Holy shit,” you muttered at the screen and Bucky’s steps led next to you. “The red parts are enemy bases, the symbols above them are the factions of enemies, these are the shadow zones in dark purple and...there we have a settlement, a big one.” You pointed at the library closer to the Empire State Building, about two blocks down from where you were currently situated. He looked up from the map with a hopeful face directly at you, “Then let’s get there and help those people.” If there was one thing you had already learned about him, it was that he wanted nobody to suffer from something Hydra did to them and he’d do anything to help people right now.

“Why do I have the feeling that this day will be a long one?” He speculated while you walked down the first block. “Well, we’ll get a ton of new information on the current situation from them. That’s gonna be pushing us from now on, ain’t it?” You smiled at the road ahead. “Guess you’re right. I’m just afraid we can’t help that much,” he mumbled. “We can, don’t get into your own head about it.” Your hand landed on his shoulder. “I try.” He gave you a soft smile of appreciation. “I mean, key points of enemies to take over seems like a lot of fun to me if all of them are this bad at their job.” You giggled. “They are the worst, aren’t they?” He laughed. “Horrible, Bucky. Absolutely horrible.” You chuckled and then both of you calmed down again and went back into Avengers mode. “Check every backpack you find on the way, Bucky. They might need what’s in there,” you told him, knowing there might be tech, textiles and other things in them. They were everywhere on the side of the streets and in house entrances. By the dawn both of you finally reach the settlement, visible from afar by the guard towers and big gates they made with trucks and billboards. You saw them aim at both of you for a while before you heard someone yell and the weapons went down. “He yelled to get their boss.” Bucky translated next to you. “Thanks, super hearing dork.” You nudged him and had an arm on the small of your back a second later. “Probably a vet. I bet on it.” He looked down at you, feeling oddly protective towards you because of a possibly very stressed out military man. “He’ll have to follow my lead tho. It’s my specialty to unapocalypse.” You heard him chuckle as a few guards came towards you. “So good to see you, Agent. Hello, Mr. Barnes.” A young man welcomed you. “We’re glad we finally found you.” You smiled at them and scanned their equipment for a second. “Our Captain will be glad to finally see you too.” A girl smiled and nudged her head towards the gate. “A Captain, not bad.” Bucky nudged you as you walked in. “Probably the only reason this is still holding up. Let’s be honest, Buck,” you said looking around while walking into the library part of the building. What was a museum before was now used as a home. The bookshelves were freed from their glass casing. There were beds all around and a corner with food and water. “It’s probably nice to have all these books to distract you. Especially for the children,” you mumbled before a big door opened.

A big bulky man came through the door, not as scary as Bucky could look, but intimidating enough to keep this place together, you assumed. “Agent! Sergeant! Richard Davis. Nice to finally see you. What took so long?” He laughed and shook hands with both of you. “Stark didn’t let us out of his bunker until it was safe enough and some idiots were guarding the place our safe house was in. How’s it going here and where do you need the most help?” He chuckled, “That list is long. I did as much as possible with my Air Force and Agent background to train the men and women around here, but it’s only enough to defend this place and get the occasional food. We need as many buildings as possible around here cleared to have more supplies to make this a self-sufficient little tribe. We thankfully have the doctor's office across the street occupied but we need more stuff to make this a solid foundation. The school around the corner on 35th is still full of Vulture idiots. Could you clear that up? Would definitely earn complete trust from the skeptics here.” He looked around in the room. “With a bit of ammo and help from a few of your people, we can do that in about...30 minutes.” You looked up from your watch and saw a surprised but happy face. “I’ll get my men ready. Patricia? Show them where they can find ammo and other weapons.”

About 45 minutes later you were surrounding the school, EADA scanning the surroundings for anyone and anything. “You all stay back and let us do the main work, understood?” You looked back at the amateur shooters. “Yes, Agent.” One of them whispered. “Bucky?” You looked over and he looked up, “Go.” He took down two men with silenced guns, then gave another one a knife and kicked the fourth one into the next bush. It was magnificent to watch him do all of this with no sound coming from him. “That’s not a Sergeant. That’s a General, my dear.” Captain Davis watched the almost beautiful choreography of kills in front of him. “He’s something, isn’t he?” You grinned before getting up and following Bucky through the door he had opened up. “Getting the hallway safe, then you can do the rooms with your shotguns. Be safe,” you whispered into the earpiece. “Got it.”

Reblog if you liked this (or Alpine will haunt you!)

[dreams-of-wings]

Descendants Imagine

Imagine: Being Mal's long lost sister, but you've been living on Auradon the entire time.

Of course nobody knew who your mother was, not even you.

If they did they would want your head on a wooden pike.

Unfortunately that means you also don't know your biological father

You were raised by Sleeping Beauty and Prince Phillip, alongside their daughter Audrey.

No one knows you were adopted, not even you and Audrey.

You always knew how superficial and stuck-up she was (she was good at hiding it for the most part at school till the VK's showed up), but to you she was your sister, and family meant everything.

She's nicer to you, because you're her sister.

You do a lot of apologizing for that girl.

You tend to be the nicer one out of the two of you.

Which leads to you having real friends.

The times she is rude or mean to you, is normally when you're around your friends.

High-key it's because deep down she knows her friends are fake, or at the very least she doesn't see them as friends.

You're good friends with Ben.

For a while Audrey thought you were trying to steal him.

But for the most part you don't hang around the royal children.

Like Mal, you can also turn into a dragon - but you don't know that.

Also like Mal, your eyes glow.

They glow a bright electric blue though.

She's more experienced and has been practicing, so while she can do it on command, you can only do it when experiencing intense emotions.

Your friends just think your eyes change color depending on your mood.

Things get a little dicey when the VK's start attending school at Auradon High.

It's so easy to tell when Mal is using her fake nice-girl voice because you hear it from Audrey all the time.

They can tell your different from the rest of the students.

Mal gets an odd vibe from you, and the others just notice the fact that you aren't an asshole to them.

You also aren't stupid.

Jay made the mistake of trying to get information about Fairy godmothers wand from you.

You just gave him a look and were like, "Why? What are you going to do with it?"

From then on Mal forbid them from talking to you about anything remotely close to their plans

You're good friends with Carlos and Evie.

Jay's a bit on the fence, sometimes he seems like a friend sometimes he's distant (Thanks Mal).

Mal doesn't really talk to you.

Eventually it seems like the other kids start to accept the VK's

Then they open up a little more.

And once they open up a bit more, you become better friends with them, even Mal.

Of course then your and Audrey's grandmother had mess it all up.

Audrey and Chad didn't help either.

You felt bad for Mal and the other VK's

They had actually been doing great, but people still shunned them.

Audrey, Chad, and your grandmother didn't let you follow after the VK's when they fled the tournament.

That was the first time the VK's saw your eyes glow.

You very overwhelmed with emotions: anger, frustration, sadness, and confusion.

You sat with them at lunch right after Audrey and Chad chased Doug away from them.

They started calling you over, and talking to you as if they had a say in your decisions. Then Audrey and Jane walked over to Mal and started trash talking like she wasn't there.

"Its just a bad girl phase."

"Yeah as if he would ever make a villan his queen."

"Buzz off!" You slammed your hands on the table and stood up from your seat.

This would be the second time the VK's have seen your eyes change.

Twice in one day, and only in a matter of hours.

"What is wrong with you?"

Audrey looked at you like she was disgusted.

She'd never been on the receiving end of your "freaky" eyes.

That's when Mal took away Jane's new hair and turned it back to normal.

After that Audrey and her crew left.

You were about to sit back down when-

"It's fine, we don't need your pity."

Oof, back to square one with Mal.

You stood there for a moment, watching her like she would change her mind.

But she didn't, and with a sigh you simply shook your head and walked away.

Evie wanted to stop you.

"Didn't you see her eyes?"

Mal was confused for a moment.

Yes

Yes she had, both times, but it hadn't occurred to her how few people were able to do that till now.

And your parents are mortal - royal, but mortal. With the only magic in it being the fairies who raised your mother, but even then, they weren't related by blood.

You shouldn't be able to do that.

The coronation is where you found out you could turn into a dragon.

When Maleficent appeared you were overcome with emotion.

Anger, she just didn't seem like she could change, she wanted to take everything from you and everyone you loved.

Fear, for you, your friends, your family.

Your heart raced and your pulse quickened.

You felt like you were going to black out

But then-

You froze with all the others, but the moment you turned into a dragon Maleficent instantly knew who you were.

"You! You insolent brat!"

Mal had never heard her mother sound so full of disdain.

Sure she got angry and disappointed with her regularly, but this was full of a toxic hate that she was sure had been previously reserved for only Sleeping Beauty's family.

Apparently she was wrong.

"Her?" Mal was confused, but she thought if she could distract her mom long enough she could grab the wand.

Maleficent growled and took a step towards your massive form.

"Who is 'her'?"

"Your meddling older sister!" Maleficent whipped around and growled at the daughter she raised.

She stumbled upon an old fortune teller after her fall. She was pregnant at the time with you, and she had high hopes that you would be able to aid her with her revenge when you got older, however, the strange man had assured her that it's best not to count your chickens before they hatch, for the future is never written in stone.

The message had been vague, but it was enough to make her paranoid that perhaps you would be her true downfall.

So she abandoned you.

She left you on the side of the road some time after you were born and left you at the mercy of the wild animals.

Luckily for you, Aurora and Philip had been heading back to their home, just days after their own daughter's birth; that's when they heard you and found you, before taking you in - of course Maleficent didn't know that part.

Mal blinked as her mother explained her animosity towards you, all while she slowly stalked towards you. She was on the verge of tears.

All this time she had a sister.

A sister whose not much older than she is.

An older sister who her mother threw away like trash all because of the ramblings of some senile old man.

Her eyes were glassy now, tears hanging on to the edge of them.

All this time she thought she had to deal with her mother alone.

Sure she and Evie were like sisters now, but she could have also had you - especially when she was younger.

"Perhaps I should have finished the job instead of leaving a loose end!" She raised the wand, ready to finish you in your vulnerable frozen state.

"No!"

Mal snatched the wand.

Your mother growled and tried to snag it back, but in their struggle Mal accidentally hit you with a blast from the wand.

And it freed you.

"YOU'LL REGRET THAT!"

You and Maleficent totally had a dragon fight.

But since you aren't that experienced in the form, you eventually get overpowered.

Cue Mal saving you by turning your mom into a lizard and freeing everyone.

You felt weak after turning back to normal and almost collapsed.

"I didn't know you could do that!"

"Neither did I."

Mal helped to keep you upright.

Needless to say, after the whole thing had been broadcast live on television, everyone knew you were Maleficents daughter.

The family that had raised you, no longer wanted anything to do with you.

As far as they were concerned you were just Maleficents spawn who had manahed to deceive then and infiltrate their family.

The VK's were your family now.

Mal started teaching you magic, and how to control your powers.

"Do you think I can turn into a dragon too?"

"I'm not sure?"

You struggled with magic, and honestly you begin to think that maybe Mal got all the magic, and you can just turn into a dragon?

Is that so bad though?

Two halves of a whole?

[cryptid-bloodhound]

Legends Crime AU

After some great suggestions from: @daughterofthewinedude, @sunflower-key, @ajays-lullaby, and @unsightedjoker​ I decided to expand upon the Crime AU and fill in the blanks thanks to them! If there are more suggestions, let me know! I’m always open to them (:

 So, again thank you for the suggestions, they’re a huuuge help!

Basic Roles

under the cut bcus I rambled again, oops. If yall want to know more, just hmu! I might make individual character ‘profiles’ if there’s interest. Also, if anyone wants to use this for their own crime setting/au then feel free! (i’d totally love to be tagged in stuff bcus im a hoe for crime aus)

Bloodhound - Unknown Assassin -  They're independent and usually can’t be hired as they seem to be working down some sort of list. They aren’t in it for the money, clearly. However, if you plead your case and it’s a good one (in their eyes) the person you’re targeting might just disappear one day. Occasionally they’ll play the silent, scary backup if one of their associates/friends needs it. Nobody knows who they are, where they came from, how to contact them, or what the hell is up with them. It’s been noted that whenever they stop by a city, notoriously nasty criminals happen to go missing. All that’s known about them is that nobody escapes Bloodhound once they start their hunt.

Lifeline - Ex-Mob Princess/Mob Doc - Ajay Che would have been considered a Mob Princess if she had stayed within her Family Ranks. Her parents made very little effort to hide the truth of their profits from her. Disgusted, she left as soon as she could and swore to never join the life. Instead, she became a doctor in an effort to help people and make up for what her family has done. However, her childhood friend Octavio drug her back into the life unintentionally. He’d get hurt and show up at her doorstep again and again. Soon enough, other mobsters and criminals started arriving, earning her the unspoken title of Mob Doc. Now it’s not uncommon to find random Family members just lounging around her place. She decided to just say ‘to hell with it’ and try to act as some sort of Moral Compass for the crew.

Octane - Ex-Mob Prince/Demolitionist/Arsonist - His family and Ajay’s are closely intertwined. They grew up together thanks to the meetings between his parents and hers. However, unlike Ajay, he didn’t feel a moral repulsion at what their families were doing. If anything, he was bored. They weren’t extreme enough. It was almost all Blue Collar crimes, nothing explosive or violent. So, in typical Octavio fashion, he jumped ship and looked for something faster, flashier, more dangerous. It landed him in the ranks of his current Family as their Demolitions and Arson guy. He managed to drag Ajay back into their lifestyle after blowing off his own legs when he blew up the building of someone who pissed him off. He may not be the smartest or most level-headed member, but there’s no one more willing to jump into a fight or play with explosives than him.

Mirage - Jack of Trades - runs the ‘Cosa Nostra’-esque bar called the Paradise Lounge. It’s a neutral meeting grounds for the varying Families and it is an unwritten rule that nobody is allowed to fight in its premise. It’s the only ‘safe spot’ in the city. He has several different jobs for the Family. Aside from running the bar and helping to launder money, he is a document forger, a con artist, tech expert and is capable of talking people out of trouble one way or another. Basically, if someone needs to ‘disappear’ or get out of trouble, they come to ‘Mirage’. 

Bangalore - Ground Enforcer/Collector -  An ex-spec ops soldier who left the service after the mysterious ‘disappearance’ of her brother when he was on leave. She is certain it was a rival gang who did something to him. So, she’s started a crusade to find out what happened to him and avenge him one way or another. She joined the Family after crossing paths with them on more than one occasion. After witnessing her impressive skills, they offered her whatever resources she needed to finish her quest in exchange for her services leading and training their ‘troops’. She also isn’t shy on collecting the debts owed to the family.

Gibraltar - Allied Boss - Makoa Gibraltar isn’t your typical Crime Lord. For starters, he doesn’t actively harm innocent people. If anything, he is closer to a vigilante than an evil mobster. He started his biker gang after witnessing one too many hate crimes and seeing too many horrible people walk free from a corrupt system. He protects victims from their attackers during tenuous things like court trials and breaks up hate crimes he sees in progress. He’s become affectionately noted throughout the city by its citizens and even the police like to turn a blind eye when they can when he’s seen protecting someone (or beating the ever-loving shit out of some asshole). He has a shaky alliance with The Family. At the moment, they haven’t done anything notably horrible and have helped fund his growing group. They even slip him some info every now and again about places and people who might need a ‘meeting’ with Gibraltar.

Crypto - Double Agent Hacker - Tae Joon Park is technically ‘dead’. After being framed by The Family for the murder of his adopted sister Mila, he decided it was best to stick with the idea of being dead and created a new identity for himself. Filled with a searing need for revenge, he’s entered into the Family under the guise of being their expert Hacker and pro at Espionage. There’s no code he can’t crack and no information he can’t find. He’s capable of bringing empires down from behind his keyboard and screen. That’s exactly what he plans on doing to The Family. Only, he’s starting to notice a very strange pattern. Not everyone in the Family seems to be aware of the shady business going on. Some appear to be victims themselves that are being played. Now, he also has to decide who is guilty and who’s just like him - a pawn.

Caustic - Wild Card Killer - Considered an Associate as he refuses to formally join The Family as a Made Man. Alexander Nox is also technically ‘dead’. After a run-in with the law (and a subsequent escape from prison), he had the local forger Mirage falsify evidence of his death and craft him a new identity. He functions as an interrogator and a cleaner when he feels the fancy. He’s made it very clear that he is, under no circumstance, beholden to what the Boss wants. He helps because the Boss offers him a practically endless supply of test subjects in exchange for extracting information from the people and disposing of the bodies. He also mentors Wattson in the ways of proper disposal. What his end goals are, nobody really knows and nobody wants to ask. 

Wraith - Shadow Broker/Assassin - Renee Blasey is something of an enigma. Few people know her name beyond ‘Wraith’ and fewer still know what she looks like. She hides in the shadows, gathering information and eliminating targets with precision. There’s a rumor that she’s the one who brought the newcomer Crypto into the fold and that they’ve worked together in the past. Perhaps he was the one who freed her from a rival gang’s clutches. Due to her apparent connections all over the place and an almost unending supply of information, she was held captive and tortured for information. After her violent and bloody escape, she stumbled across the Family and they welcomed the notable information broker with open arms. How she gets the information she does, no one knows. She is always elusive about it. ‘A little birdy told me.’ ‘The voices knew’.  

Pathfinder - Transport Expert - A ‘defective’ MRVN unit because he was too free-thinking and asked too many questions, namely: ‘what happened to my creator?’ He was going to be decommissioned and shut down permanently when a group of strangers broke into the facility and ransacked the place. After they saved him from being decommissioned, he followed them around like a puppy and unintentionally joined the Family. He functions somewhere between ‘getaway/transport expert’ and ‘team mascot’. It’s thought that he might have witnessed some damning things and that’s why he was going to be decommissioned. In the process, his memories were corrupted so it’s almost impossible to truly tell. They’ve begun proper work on restoring his memories now that the technical geniuses Wattson and Crypto have joined up alongside Mirage.

Wattson - Security/Business Front/Cleaner- Daughter of an Associate. She didn’t know her dad worked with the mob until she was older. After the initial surprise, she joined in on the business, going so far as to becoming Made. She runs the security service front known as ‘Apex Protection’ that also doubles as their money laundering business. Nobody gets past her defenses to get to Family. (It helps that her dad was rather close with the notoriously effective cleaner Caustic. She’s picked up a few tips from him and now helps with the cleaning when needed)

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Fate

Part 3

Summary: In the North, you expected them to welcome you, but instead you were met with dislike and glares. Jon informs you about his real parentage and the army of the dead arrives.

Part one, part two.

Warnings: Season 8 episodes 1-4 spoilers.

Word Count: 1906.

You and Jon rode into Winterfell towards the crowd of people standing within. When you arrived at the castle, Jon’s family was waiting for him. He hadn’t seen his brother Bran for 8 years or so. He dismounted his horse, walked up to him and kissed his forehead. Then he hugged his sister Sansa.

“Queen Y/n of House Targaryen. My sister, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell” he introduced the two of you.

“Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark. The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you” you complimented.

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace” she didn’t seem to like you.

“We don't have time for all this. The Night King has your dragon. He's one of them now. The Wall has fallen, the dead march south” Bran informed you.

Sansa and Jon summoned their Bannermen to the hall to discuss the plan of fighting the Night King. Many of them didn’t like that he bent the knee to you and hardly accepted you as their queen. They argued with him , but Tyrion managed to interfere and remind them of the bigger problem that you have now.

After that, you and Jon walked together outside as the men started preparing for the war.

“Your sister doesn't like me” you remarked.

“She doesn't know you. If it makes you feel any better, she didn't like me either when we were growing up” he informed you.

“I find that hard to believe” you chuckled.

You went to check on your dragons and Jon followed.

They growled softly. “What's wrong with them?” Jon asked.

“They don't like the North” you climbed on Drogon’s back and waited for Jon “go on” you gave him permission.

“I don't know how to ride a dragon” he looked at Rhaegal unsure what to do.

“Nobody does. Until they ride a dragon” you encouraged him.

“What if he doesn't want me to?” He was still hesitant.

“Then I've enjoyed your company, Jon Snow” you smiled. He walked around the side of him and climbed on his back.

“What do I hold onto?” He questioned.

“Whatever you can”you flew high and the dragons kept turning right and left, until you were far away from the people near a canyon.

“You've completely ruined horses for me”. You giggled and walked until you noticed a beautiful waterfall.

“We could stay a thousand years. No one would find us” you wished.

“We'd be pretty old” Jon stated.“It's cold up here for a southern girl”.

“So keep your queen warm” you ordered and he pulled in and kissed you.

Drogon growled softly causing Jon to pull away.

“Don’t be afraid” it was easy for you to say, they’d never harm you. You smiled and continued to kiss in each other’s embrace. Jon opened his eyes to see Drogon still staring at him.

The next day, Jaime was captured and you summon the council to decide his fate. You wanted to execute him and Sansa agreed with you for once until Brienne vouched for him and Sansa changed her mind. Jaime informed you that Cersei’s not sending her army but he intends to fight for the living. You asked Jon about his opinion and he told you they need everyman they can get. You agreed and let him stay.

“Thank you, your grace” Jon existed the hall. He seemed different, distant, uncertain.

Later that day, you wanted Sansa to get to know you and went to speak with her.

“Lady Sansa, I was hoping we could speak alone” you interrupted her conversation with Royce. And she walked with you until you found yourselves at the library.

“I thought you and I were on the verge of agreement before. About Ser Jaime”.

“Brienne has been loyal to me, always. I trust her more than anyone” she informed you.

“I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisors” you remembered it was Tyrion’s idea to talk to Cersei.

“Tyrion is a good man. He was never anything but decent towards me”.

“I didn't ask him to be my Hand simply because he was good. I asked him to be my Hand because he was good, and intelligent, and ruthless when he had to be. He never should have trusted Cersei”.

“You never should have either”.

“I thought he knew his sister and I had my doubts”.

“Families are complicated”.

“Ours certainly have been” you started to bond.

“A sad thing to have in common” Sansa expressed.

“We have other things in common. We've both known what it means to lead people who aren't inclined to accept a woman's rule. And we've both done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell.And yet, I can't help but feel we're at odds with one another. Why is that? Your brother” you asked.

“He loves you, you know that” she remarked.

“That bothers you?” You were confused.

“Men do stupid things for women. They're easily manipulated” she stated.

“All my life, I’ve been raised to achieve one goal: the Iron Throne. Taking it back from the people who destroyed my family, and almost destroyed yours. My war was against them. Until I met Jon. Now I'm here, half a world away, fighting Jon's war alongside him. Tell me, who manipulated whom?”.

“I should have thanked you the moment you arrived. That was a mistake” she placed her hand on yours and you placed your other hand on top of hers.

“I’m here because I love your brother and I trust him, and I know he's true to his word. He's the first man in my life I can say that about”.

“And what happens afterwards? We defeat the dead, we destroy Cersei. What happens then?” Sansa questioned.

“uhm, I suppose I take the Iron Throne” you weren’t sure as you should be.

“What about the North? It was taken from us, and we took it back. And we said we'd never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?” She reminded.

You sighed and were about to say something to her before the maester interrupted and informed you of Theon’s return.

In the evening, you were gathered in the library to discuss your plan. The plan was to be near Bran, but not near enough that Night King could see you. That way you could trap him and kill him. After done discussing the plan, people started to leave, Jon included.

“Your grace” he hasn’t looked at you all day or said any words other than these. You started to grow suspicious and decided to confront him about it.

After searching for him and not finding him, you asked Bran about his whereabouts and he told you he was down in the crypts.

You saw him staring at a statue of a woman. You walked up to him and he glanced at you and smiled.

You held his arm and looked at the statue “who’s that?”.

“Lyanna Stark”.

“My uncle Rhaegar, everyone told me he was decent and kind. He liked to sing. Gave money to poor children. Actually, you remind me of him, but then he raped her” you were confused as to why he’d do such thing.

“He didn’t. He loved her” now you were even confused more than you were before.

“They were married in secret. After Rhaegar fell on the Trident, she had a son. Robert would have murdered the baby if he ever found out, and Lyanna knew it. So the last thing she did, as she bled to death on her birthing bed, was give the boy to her brother, Ned Stark, to raise as his bastard” he revealed.

You looked at him, slightly concerned as you connected the dots.

“My name. My real name is Aegon Targaryen” he admitted.

“That's impossible” you exhaled sharply.

“I wish it were”.

“Who told you this?”.

“Bran. He saw it”.

“He saw it?”.

“And Samwell confirmed it. He read about their marriage at the Citadel without even knowing what it meant”.

“A secret no one in the world knew except your brother and your best friend. Doesn't seem strange to you?”.

“It's true,Y/n. I know it is”.

“If it were true, it would make you the last male heir of House Targaryen. You'd have a claim to the Iron Throne” you realized and before you could finish a horn blared and you had to leave. The army of the dead has arrived.

Everything was dark, half of your Dothraki army was gone, it looked like you were losing. You and Jon rode Drogon and Rhaegal and tried to fight the Night King who had Viserion, but with the darkness and the storm it was hard for you to see anything. Rhaegal and Viserion fought and Rhaegal got injured, making his landing rough and Jon fell to the ground.

As soon as Jon saw the Night King, he ran towards him but before he could reach him, The night Kong raised the dead and now Jon was surrounded by them, fighting his way out.

“Dracarys!” Drogon lighted them up and freed Jon.

“Bran!” He shouted.

“Go!” You were left on the battlefield alone after many wights tried to climb on Drogon and he flew away.

A wight was about to attack you, but Jorah appeared and killed him. Both of you fought side by side and he died for you then and there.

You came to Westeros to take back what’s yours and to return home, but you’ve already lost a dragon and your best advisor and warrior. The worst part is, it wasn’t over yet. Who knows how much more you’ll lose before getting to the Iron Throne”.

Arya killed the Night King and with it, the great war was won.

At dawn, the bodies of the fallen were gathered and Jon gave a speech before burning the bodies. Everyone had a day to mourn their loved ones.

At night, there was a feast to celebrate your victory. You legitimized the bastard Gendry, son of Robert Baratheon and appointed him Lord of Storm’s End.

“All of it. Go on!” Tormund handed Jon a drink.

“No, not in one go” Jon was surrounded by his friends and Sansa, while you were alone.

“Go on. I believe in you” Sansa encouraged.

“We have to celebrate our victory” Tormund told him.

“Vomiting is not celebrating” Jon stated.

“Yes, it is” Tormund was convinced.

“I saw him riding that thing” Tormund told the others.

“That's right, you did” Davos said.

“I did. That's why we all agreed to follow him. That's the kind of man he is. He's little but he's strong. Strong enough to befriend an enemy and get murdered for it! Most people get bloody murdered, they stay that way. Not this one” he kept complimenting him.

“Yeah, I didn't have much say in that” Jon smiled.

“Ah! He comes back and keeps fighting. Here, north of the Wall, and then back here again.He keeps fighting.

He keeps fighting. He climbed on a fucking dragon and fought. What kind of person climbs on a fucking dragon? A madman or a king!”.

Jon turned his head back and gave you a smile and you returned it.

Never in your life have you felt that insulted or alone. You felt like a foreigner, you missed your mother, Jorah even the Land you were raised in.

Tags: @simonsbluee @octaviareina @winterscommander @patdsinner @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @doctorswife221b 

@marvel-addict-95 @capsheadquaters

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG141, once again abridged edition because What The Heck Is This Month on my side /o/

- Fun little thing: it was precisely as he was talking about Mikaele Salesa’s ties with the Institute (and the fact that some items in Artefact Storage were bought from him) that Jon spotted the spider in MAG038, leading to the discovery of the worm invasion and the  Prentiss attack overall. As usual when spiders are involved: was that a coincidence, or fucking not.

Anyway: it’s interesting how, between MAG115 (the statement that Salesa himself gave in 2007) and MAG141 (Floyd’s statement about his last year working under him), Salesa turned to sounding… more tragic, almost sympathetic? (I said “almost”: I’m not forgetting how easily he was throwing people overboard, or the fact he allowed people to get their hands on items that would hurt them or other people… although yeah, technically, he was leaving them to deal with what they had asked for.) With only MAG141, it sounded like he was someone stuck in Spooky, pursued by spooks and never able to escape them ever since he’d worked with Leitner:

(MAG141) FLOYD: He was tired. Everyone could tell. The man had been doing this job non-stop as long as any of us could remember, and he was clearly starting to feel it. Once found him pouring over an old photo album. The ship was there in the pictures, but a different captain, different crew. I asked him who they were, and he just looked at me, eyes sunken like hadn’t slept, and for a second I felt like he was seeing someone else, not me. But then he just shrugged. “Dead now,” he said, “doesn’t really matter.” […] This time, though… felt different. He was distant, quiet. His words, when he spoke to you at all, were blurred with alcohol and regret. Nobody knew what the plan was, so we just kept going.

(Can’t help but think about Leitner, Gertrude or Jon, here: being the sole survivor of their little circle, because everyone else… slowly got killed or sacrificed around them, whether they took an active part in their circle’s demise or just watched them as they all died off one by one…?)

- Small similarities, between Salesa’s own statement (MAG115) and Floyd’s description of him (MAG141)! Salesa was indeed the only one to deal with the merchandise during the journey, and installed the rule in 1999, and we know why:

(MAG115, Mikaele Salesa) “You see, in this game there are a few rules it’s a good idea to keep to if you’re looking to stay alive. One of my mine, is that only I take stock of the merchandise. You want to know how I came by this rule? I know you do.”

(MAG141) FLOYD: Way the others talked about it, he’d been at this for a long time, decades at least, and when I sailed with him it was clear he knew exactly what he was doing. He was the only one ever allowed in the cargo bay during a voyage.

And overall, if Floyd said that the crew trusted Salesa… it wasn’t one-sided, at all (especially when it involved throwing people overboard.):

(MAG115, Mikaele Salesa) “His movements were clumsy, like a drunk, and even at his best I’ve killed worse than Cook. He went down easy. That’s another good thing about having a crew you can trust. They tossed him overboard, and cleaned up without asking any sort of prying questions.”

(MAG141) FLOYD: He never lied to us about the sort of thing he was into. He didn’t exactly volunteer specifics, but we all knew what we were doing wasn’t legal, and we trusted him because he knew what he was doing. […] Salesa was a big guy, you know, but he never really made anything of it. He always used to say he needed a crew to follow him out of trust, not fear. But he didn’t have a problem using his size against Jésus when he found him. He threw the little rat overboard without a second’s hesitation, and there was nobody on that ship unhappy he did it. They’d all seen what could happen when someone else got in the cargo bay.

- We know that Salesa was one of Jurgen Leitner’s assistants for a time, but took off before his library was attacked (so before 1994), and that he had left with a copy of Leitner’s clients list, that he first dealt in “regular” illegal antiques before beginning to accept dealing with spooky items, out of greed, though avoiding books; he was already in the nautical Spook business in autumn 1999, when “Cook” grew fond of the Flesh-related meat grinder (MAG115). On January 19th 2000, Vincent Yang got imprisoned in an old (Buried-related) wooden box from Salesa’s stock, and was freed by Peter Lukas (MAG066). Salesa gave (“another”) written statement to Gertrude/the Institute/Elias? on January 4th 2007, after a Slaughter weapon bought from him caused damages, and Jon mentioned that some items from Artefact Storage have been purchased from him (MAG115). In the spring of 2010, he bought Neil Thompson’s “totem” syringe, which had likely been protecting Thompson from The Corruption and/or unleashed a Corruption curse on him when he sold it (MAG045). He tried to sell something to Paul Noriega in May 2011 (MAG014), contained in “a square wooden crate” by four men, although they didn’t settle on a price. He was the one to sell/give The Spiral pot from the Jiajing period to Andre Ramao in March 2012 (MAG038). He was transporting a (Spiral? Stranger?) rug when it attacked Gantulga in 2014, prompting him to apparently try to stop/flee from that life, taking on one last mission to would retrieve “an old camera with a broken lens” from an island (MAG141). Jon had already pinpointed that Salesa had apparently disappeared in 2014, back in season 2:

(MAG045) ARCHIVIST: […] I’ve been having a word with Rosie about whether we can make contact with him. Apparently, he hasn’t been seen for almost two years now, with rumours in the trade running through everything from “he had a quiet retirement” to “he’s trying to dodge a jail sentence” or even “he was shot dead in Columbia for stealing a priceless artefact from a drug lord”. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t look like he’ll be answering questions any time soon, though I have urged Rosie to keep trying.

Which was now kind of confirmed by Floyd Matharu, who worked with Salesa from 2011 to 2014 (MAG141) – according to his story, Salesa is presumably dead, although Floyd himself didn’t see anything directly and the most direct witness is already dead:

(MAG141) FLOYD: I didn’t hear the explosion myself. Dantez told me about it, as it had apparently woken him and a few others of the crew. A big explosion, they said, further into the port. […] We were still stood there, arguing amongst ourselves about what to do, when Captain Gaultier made his dramatic reappearance. His clothes were torn and his hair matted with blood. […] Some tried to ask the captain about Salesa, but he just shook his head. He wasn’t making much sense. We managed to gather the two of them had left early to deliver the artefact, but something had gone wrong. There had been an argument. They had been betrayed. Salesa was dead. The captain died soon after; the shrapnel trapped in his skull finally getting the better of him.

So, hum. Suspicious death, no body found, still not sure whether he’s still alive or not.

- Salesa was acquainted with the Institute, made a few phone calls, and officially died in an explosion… so had he made a deal with Gertrude? In which case, did she indeed betray him, or hide his escape? (It would seem… very “kind” from Gertrude, though.) Using him to retrieve a spooky item before discarding him sounds ruthless and not totally un-Gertrude, so…

Of course, big creature under the sea sounds like a Vast thing, so I wonder if the thing with the island was The Vast’s ritual attempt? We’re still missing… everything about that one (date, place, name, people involved). And was the camera lens related to them, or to Beholding, or to The Dark? Why was Jon interested in that statement in particular – because of the mystery of Salesa’s disappearance, or because of the island, or because of the camera lens…? We did have multiple occurrences of cameras or lenses being used around Dark activities:

(MAG009, Julia Montauk) “Asking him about it, my father told me he had been trying to learn photography, but didn’t trust developers not to ruin his films, as he’d apparently had problems before. I suggested he make himself a darkroom for developing them himself. […] There were no photos stored there. To this day I don’t know where my father kept his developed pictures. But there were about a dozen images hung out to dry. They’re still vivid in my mind – black and white and… washed in the deep red of the darkroom. Each photo was of a person’s face, close up and expressionless, their eyes were dull and glassy. I had never seen corpses before, so didn’t really understand what I was looking at. On each face were thick black lines that, formed these symbols that I didn’t recognise – but they were clearly drawn on the faces themselves, not just on the photographs. I don’t remember the symbols in any great detail, I’m afraid, just the faces that they were drawn onto, though they weren’t people I recognised. Nor did they match any of the photos the police showed me later.”

(MAG057, Carter Chilcott) “At some point on the first day, I remembered the camera. I focused my attention on it and began to scream, and shout for help in the vain hope that someone might be watching a feed of it and might be able to make contact. I cried, and begged, and pleaded with that camera for almost four hours, before I was suddenly struck by a terrifying thought. I floated over to it, and gently took hold of the cables that fed, out from the back into the wall. I followed them along, looking for where they connected to the power or broadcasting apparatus. What I found instead were a pair of neatly severed wires – transmitting nothing, powering nothing, connected… to nothing. The camera had never even been turned on, and had certainly not been transmitting anything to Earth. So what data had they been collecting? I still have no idea the answer to that question, but I did feel like I gained some… small sliver of control back after spending an… all-too-brief hour smashing up the camera.”

(MAG063, Erin Gallagher-Nelson) “It’s always been me and Luke Nelson – he was my wife’s brother, and did all the lighting for our shoots. At least, until he was… eaten by the darkness, last week. […] Then the scraping came again, now from the other direction and I sank to the floor, clutching my camera to my chest like some sort of protective talisman. It was silent, once again. […] Somewhere in my mind, I remembered… the flash of my camera, and my fingers instinctively flipped the switch. As I pressed the button, the screaming stopped with a wet snap, and for the worst moment of my life, an explosion of light shot through the darkness. […] It was the rector of St. Paul’s, and a small group of what I assumed to be parishioners. […] The rector was very understanding, though I wasn’t making much sense. He spoke soft words of reassurance, brought me out into the sick pale blue of dawn, and called an ambulance to look me over. I didn’t get his name, and it was only after I’d reached the hospital I realized he had taken my camera.”

And we know that a company involved in the Daedalus project, Optics Solutions Ltd, was based in Ny-Ålesund and specialised in cameras. It’s one of the numerous companies reportedly tied to The Dark, along with Outer Bay Shipping and D.K.N. Systems:

(MAG025) ARCHIVIST: Also of note, the words “Ny Alesund”. I don’t know for sure if Mr. Bilham remembered them correctly, but Tim pointed out that Ny-Ålesund is actually a small town in Norway. In fact, except for research installations, it is the most northerly human settlement on Earth, located at a latitude of North 78°55′30″. It is a company town, owned and operated by Outer Bay, but what it has to do with Mr. Bilham’s account is anyone’s guess. Assuming it isn’t all… coincidence. That far north… during the winter… nights can last for a very long time… Mm.

(MAG057) ARCHIVIST: Tim was, however, able to get a list of the businesses involved in the venture. Three names stand out: “Pinnacle Aerospace”, majority owned by the Fairchild family; a large private investment by Nathaniel Lukas; and “Optics Solutions Ltd”, a relatively benign-seeming company manufacturing specialist cameras for research and industrial application, who are nonetheless notable for having their business address listed as being in Ny-Ålesund, in Norway.

(MAG073) BASIRA: The building was in an industrial complex up in Harringay. It was a two storey brick building, with a weathered sign claiming it belonged to “Outer Bay Shipping”. […] ARCHIVIST: I can’t help but feel I’ve got the last chapter of a story and I… don’t even know the title. At least I hope it’s the last chapter. I still can’t find much about the company “Outer Bay Shipping”. Looks like a shell corporation, but tracking corporate ownership is not something I’m skilled at.

(MAG106, Jan Kilbride) “[Manuela Dominguez’s] research was kept entirely separate from mine, and while we spent plenty of time together, I never did figure out exactly what it was. Something to do with lasers, I think. […] She said she’d felt the station shake, bu–ut when I pressed, she… claimed she hadn’t heard anything. Her eyes were red and I noticed for the first time that the tips of her fingers were burned.”

(MAG109) JULIA: Sometimes, a start-up would make it big, but usually it was the inevitable bankruptcy that moved them out. All except “D.K.N. Systems”. I never really figured out what it was they were meant to be doing; something full of meaningless buzzwords, like “business networks” or “media solutions”. Thinking about it, it might actually have been “Business media network solutions.” Point is, there didn’t seem to be anything suspicious about them. At least not at first. […] There was only one of them that ever spoke – at least to me. A young guy called [Vardan Darvish]. He seemed to be the manager, at least as much as there was any clear structure. And unlike his colleagues, he seemed happy, almost eager, to talk. […] TREVOR: I’d been tracking Darvish for a good few weeks by then. There’d been a couple of homeless I knew gone missing around Parrs Wood, where I were keeping back then. […] Third night, I spotted him at work, taking a delivery. It were a big truck for some company called “Outer Bay”. I tried to follow them up since, but didn’t find much.

So, mmmm. Lot of lenses, and still the mystery of… Robert Montauk’s photographs.

- In the same way, there is the year of Salesa’s death/disappearance… Because 2014 (and 2015) were definitely activity-heavy for The Dark: in MAG141, Salesa was revealed to have officially “died” in 2014, after retrieving the camera lens. In MAG063, Erin Gallagher-Nelson and Luke Nelson had an encounter with creatures(or followers?) of the Dark underneath St. Paul’s Church, on the night between March 25th and 26th 2014. In MAG135, Manuela Dominguez left her statement on July 14th 2014, announcing that The Dark and Maxwell Rayner were ready for their ritual and challenging Gertrude to stop them. In MAG025, Mark Bilham recounted the events at the Hither Green Dissenters Chapel, involving followers from the People’s Church of the Divine Host on March 11th 2015, and Jon added that a scream was heard on the evening of May 15th 2015 (the day Gertrude passed away according to the “official file”, although in MAG040 Elias reported the blood in Gertrude’s office and her disappearance to have occurred on March 15th).

So whether there is actually a direct connection or not, it’s still a bit suspicious that Salesa disappeared in the timeframe he did…

(- Thinking again about how both Jon and Tim had specifically mentioned that they had watched what was happening during their first spooky encounter, and how they both ended up in the Institute and Beheld, it’s interesting to note that Floyd:

(MAG141) FLOYD: Something began to break the surface as I realised the deep rumble was no longer the thunder, and I closed my eyes and fell to the deck, gripping the rail with all my might as a wave hit us from behind, propelling us away from it.

… precisely closed his eyes. Not everyone would watch, as their childhood bully is snatched by Mr. Spider, or as their brother or what’s left of his skin is played with again.)

- Interestingly, Basira had said that she would book the trip, and now it turns out that Jon changed their plans?

(MAG140) ARCHIVIST: So what’s the plan? BASIRA: I’m getting us passage on a boat heading up there. ARCHIVIST: … Right.

(MAG141) BASIRA: What the hell was that?! ARCHIVIST: He had information about Salesa. I thought it would help. BASIRA: Is that why you were so keen on this ship? ARCHIVIST: I wasn’t sure; just had a hunch there was something here. BASIRA: And what? You thought the best way to find it was by… slurping it out of his brain?

… So it looks like Jon now has a radar for people with spooky stories. To quote Tim in MAG114: “Fan–tastic”.

- AND ONCE AGAIN… about how Jon Behaved and… compelled someone to do things (to give his statement, then to leave and get some rest):

(MAG141) BASIRA: Jon, I’m not sure about this. ARCHIVIST: I am. Tell me what happened. [STATIC INCREASES] FLOYD: W–what…? What is this? ARCHIVIST: Whenever you’re ready. FLOYD: A–a–alright. [STATIC DECREASES] … Sure… [SILENCE] He… he–he w–was a good boss, you know?

[…] ARCHIVIST: It’s alright, Floyd. You just… [STATIC INCREASES] need a break! FLOYD: … Yeah. [STATIC DECREASES AND FADES] Sure. [RINGING FOOTSTEPS DEPART]

… I’m just baffled about how Web Jon sounded here?! Especially since MAG134 (with Peter making the distinction between The End being passive, and The Extinction being active), I’ve been wondering about the possibility that Beholding and Web were a bit like that initially, having emerged from the same “shade” (Beholding passive/Web active), or on the contrary that they might be merging now with the rise of technology and surveillance society… And once again, mMMMMMmmm, it’s. Definitely strange. There is also the fact that The Web sent Oliver to wake up Jon (supposedly in order to push him to choose to become a Beholding avatar?!); the fact that Jon is unable to tell the details of his coma (he knows he made a “choice”, to become inhuman in order to avoid dying, but hasn’t been able to provide more specifics), and there is his childhood connection with The Web…

Though: there was static, too, when Elias hired Melanie in MAG084, specifically when he asked her whether she wanted to work in the Archives. So. That’s another kind-of similarity between what Elias did, and what Jon is currently doing. (Or is it that, like Elias, Jon is now able to put thoughts in someone’s mind, and that’s what he did to Floyd? But even that sounds awfully Web, if it’s about getting someone to do something by getting into their head… Once again, what the heck is happening re:Spiders at the Institute and around Beholding agents…)

- ;; I’m especially SAD about what happened to Floyd since… he specifically wanted to stop thinking about what had happened to him. And here he is.

(MAG141) FLOYD: My last voyage with him was the one that killed him. [Four] years ago; I still have nightmares sometimes. Tried to escape it, but some things follow you no matter where you go. A smarter person might have stayed off the water, but this job, it’s all I’ve ever really known. So here we are. […] I’ve gone over that memory so many times, trying to think what I might have missed, but even now, whenever I think of it, it just looked like an old camera with a broken lens. […] And I have tried, ever since then, to leave those memories behind me.

Doomed to get the nightmares.

Curiously, Lucia had also mentioned to Gertrude that she was already having nightmares – and Gertrude knew she would get them too.

(MAG130) LUCIA: H… uh. Will it help? GERTRUDE: I’m sorry? LUCIA: Telling my story. To you. Will, will it help with the nightmares? GERTRUDE: If that’s your primary goal, my dear, I would suggest you speak to a qualified counsellor. We can suggest one, if you like; that said, I do believe most people find the process of giving a statement to be rather… mm, cathartic. And whatever nightmares your experience has left you with, I’m sure they won’t be bothering you much longer. […] GERTRUDE: Sad about the loss of history but Miss Wright didn’t seem to think the old Gnostic church got many visitors anyway. I’m honestly impressed she had the strength to get through it, even if she does seem to have been… deeply affected by it. Shame about the dreams; I would avoid them if I could.

So does someone need to have nightmares for them to be “given” to the Archivist? Or are they different things, “normal” nightmares due to trauma vs. spooky nightmares due to the Archivist extorting the statement from someone?

- Overlook of season 4, time-wise:

MAG121 (+MAG122?): February 15th 2018 MAG123: February 17th (“Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.”) MAG124: February 24th~ (“It’s been a week and… Melanie’s attitude towards me hasn’t softened.”) MAG125: ? MAG126: ? MAG127: ? MAG128: 3rd March MAG129: ? MAG130: 17th~ March (Gertrude recording; “It’s been two weeks since I heard from Basira”) MAG131: 20th March MAG132: 24th March (given that Jon has been in the coffin for three days, either 21 to 24th, or 24 to 27th?) MAG133: ? MAG134: ? (Martin, chronologically after the coffin things) MAG135: ? MAG136: at the very least two weeks after MAG132 (since Jon hasn’t seen Daisy in his dreams “for the last couple of weeks”) MAG137: ? (Gertrude recording) MAG138: ? (Martin) MAG139: ? MAG140: one day after MAG139; end of May 2018 (“Summer solstice is the 21st of June. So we leave in a fortnight, and should arrive about a week before.”) MAG141: June 11th 2018 (two days before arrival)

… So: Jon’s average rhythm tends to be around one statement a week, and it was… more intense before the coffin, and then it just slowed the heeeck up. After MAG132, from March 24th to June 11th excluded (MAG141), he only recorded five statements, so roughly one every other week… and he hadn’t recorded one for 15+ days between MAG140 and MAG141, when he just… jumped on Floyd.

(And surely, he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to not have packed written statements…? So why didn’t he record any in the timelapse…?)

- Aaaaand I’m especially horrified by the fact that:

(MAG141) ARCHIVIST: He didn’t exactly seem inclined to volunteer the information. Besides, you said I needed to be ready for Ny-Ålesund. BASIRA: [SNARLS] ARCHIVIST: “Full power”, I believe were your words. The statement helped.

… is the same kind of logic we had seen with Manuela talking about her “Fear Battery” (MAG135). (And yeah, Basira also didn’t seem to be seasick anymore after the statement. Which could be due to the adrenalin/revulsion rush or… because Beholding.)

- Alright, so. The biggest thing for me was clearly Jon in this episode. As in “What the hell, Jon” (and/or “What the hell is happening”).

I… have a lot of trouble taking Jon’s behaviour in this episode at Face Value; and I don’t know if I can still hold on with the wishful thinking that it’s not as bad as it looked, or if… it is like That, and kind of “over” for Jon. At the very least, Basira seemed scandalised so we might get more insight into Jon’s behaviour, whether it’s a call-out or special measures taken to shackle him or someone clearly expressing that “Jon, no”. He was… flat. Almost casual. Just barely softer at some points, but mostly Elias-sounding (really reminding me of how Elias had treated Melanie in MAG106: fake concern and softness and benevolence, offering her the afternoon off when he had been the one to wreck her). And the thing that that threw me off the most wasn’t so much what Jon did, but how… casual he was about the whole thing, without berating himself or having some moral dilemma about it afterwards…? As if it was a logical and natural thing to do…?

See: Jon behaved in this episode the way I feared he would be when he would wake up from his coma – taking what he needs, without caring much about the fear and pain he spreads, as long as it feeds him/feeds what feeds him. And then, season 4 rolled out, and it wasn’t the case at all! Jon expressed, multiple times, that although he was aware of being different, he was still feeling many things: he even expressed empathy for victims and disdains for the spooks that terrorise them…

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: No notes or follow-up here that I can see, just… [SIGH] It looks like the statement came in just after Gertrude disappeared. Another gap. And whoever took it didn’t do any follow-up, just… filed it away. I may be the first person to actually read it, so… sorry Angie, I suppose.

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: Simon Fairchild is one of the… recurrent figures that I think disquiets me the most. Not simply for what he does, the endless spaces of highs or depths to which he’s so quick to condemn his victims, but… the joy he seems to take in doing so. And I don’t think there is much to this tale beyond that: an evil man tormenting and killing simply for his own pleasure, and to feed the power that sustains him.

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: A “Great Twisting”, that Gertrude stopped at the cost of a single life. … I thought… moving away from my humanity would have made that seem more acceptable. That sort of sacrifice… but it just makes me sad…

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Hm. “Jonah Magnus”. I’ve never really given much thought to him. Not nearly as much as I should have. I suppose I had always hoped there was a chance he was… innocent, in all this. I know, I know! But I had… [EXHALE] I had just… hoped that maybe the founding of the Institute was in earnest. And not simply the foundation stone for all the terrible things that have happened here. … But no. Whatever is happening now… has its origins two hundred years ago. In the work of an evil man.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I just– I worry. You’re working for someone… really bad! MARTIN: Yes, I’m not an idiot, Jon, but it’s no… worse than working for something really bad, so… ARCHIVIST: At least, The Eye hasn’t gone after our own. Lukas has vanished two people!

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: With one or two notable exceptions, the only statements the Institute receives are those where the witness has… successfully escaped whatever terrible place or being has marked them for a victim. … I wonder how many don’t make it out. How many of those shapes in the water were once just like Mr. Shakya. Hm. Or perhaps I shouldn’t wonder. [HUFF] Even as I say it, I can feel the knowledge, pushing in my mind. Eager to find a way in. But I don’t want it. I don’t want to know. … I don’t want to see. … No more than I wanted to see how Gertrude stopped The Buried and their ritual, but that came to me as well. [HUFF] They called it “Sunken Sky”! And she calculated, correctly, that casting a void-touched body down The Pit at the right time would be enough to disrupt it. Something she found in… Jan Kilbride. … But Gertrude also realized that the body need not be alive. Or in one piece. She thought it was a mercy. It wasn’t.

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: I… heard someone. He was begging for me to save him. Said he couldn’t breathe. … I can barely breathe. I couldn’t find him. But I am… n–not here for him. I don’t even know him. I can’t… I can’t see… anything here… for all this… this place closes around me, I… I feel adrift. Like nothing can get through the dirt, and the muck, and–

(MAG135) ARCHIVIST: Is locking [the coffin] up the right thing to do? There are other people in there. And Daisy and I got out, but– … No, I, uh… I can’t think about that. Even if I could somehow be sure of recreating our escape, I–I can’t save everyone that’s been taken. I–It’s not my job to try, I– And I can’t spend another three days in there, I just… I need to let it go.

He was sad and horrified about Jan Kilbride; he didn’t sound onboard with Gertrude’s methods at all. He expressed that he was feeling so, so many doubts, about himself and what he had to do:

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: They can be hard, though, sometimes, oth–other people… feelings. I’m… I’m… I’m trying to focus. Trying to make sure I’m the same me as before, but… how can anyone really remember that? How do you know… you’re the same person that went to sleep…? […] BASIRA: Me first. What are you? ARCHIVIST: … Honestly… I don’t know. I don’t feel… inhuman, or… … I want to say I’m the same. But I don’t… really know if that’s true. I know I’m different. I feel… more real, somehow. BASIRA: So what does that actually mean? ARCHIVIST: Probably nothing good.

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: [STATIC] Look, I don’t know, Basira. I hope I’m still human, but it… but it’s seeming more and more unlikely. BASIRA: … I didn’t ask. ARCHIVIST: No, I suppose you didn’t. […] I’m sorry Basira, I–I will try to keep anything I learn about you to myself. My priorities haven’t changed; I hope you can believe that. [SIGH] I’m still on your side. You can trust me.

(MAG131) HELEN: Not this again. I’m not “wearing” anything, Archivist. I am at least as much Helen Richardson as you are the Jonathan Sims that first joined this institute. Things change. People change. It happens. ARCHIVIST: … We’re not “people”, though, are we? Not anymore. HELEN: Names, categories… it’s all so important to you, isn’t it? You do know none of it is actually real. It’s all just… meaningless boxes.

(MAG132) DAISY: Realised what was happening then. Realised you weren’t human. Needed to die, as soon as it was safe. Never mind Elias and his… insurance. ARCHIVIST: And now? DAISY: Don’t know. I miss dreaming. Y–you don’t sleep… down here. ARCHIVIST: Daisy… you should know I’m… If I wasn’t human before, I’m, uh… I’m even less now. DAISY: Yeah. Well. At the moment, I don’t care…

He understood people’s stance and wariness towards him. He highlighted that he was still feeling fear, sadness, concern. We got glints of guilt, of melancholy:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: Melanie, Melanie: it’s… it’s me. MELANIE: Oh! Okay, so what, “Hi Jon, how are you, get anyone killed lately?” ARCHIVIST: … I… MELANIE: Wipe that look off your face. Like you’re not the reason all of this is happening. Like you’re any better than– ARCHIVIST: [MESSY STUTTERING] MELANIE: –than him! ARCHIVIST: Basira said Elias was gone!

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: I have no theories on it, no… no sudden insights. [SIGH] I wish I could talk it through with Martin. … Or Tim. [SHORT SAD CHUCKLE] Or Sasha. But we never really did that, did we…? … Everything’s changed. … [SIGH] Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: I’ve been… trying to check on Melanie’s condition. She refuses to see me – understandably, I–I suppose, and Basira has been looking after her. [SIGH] It hurts, of course, but… [SIGH] I really hope getting that bullet out of her helps. At least… stops it from getting any worse. I can’t have been too late again.

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: Wish me luck…! … Although I suppose if you’re hearing this, then I… I didn’t have any. I don’t know. I’m… I’m scared. [SHORT CHUCKLE] When does the fear go away…? A–anyway, I–I’m sorry. You too, Basira, if you’re hearing this. I know you’d… stop me. You’d be right to, but… But if this goes wrong, all you lose is– …  I’m not risking anyone else. And I know– … I–I think… I can get her out.

(MAG135) ARCHIVIST: […] they can’t wait until they don’t have to talk to me anymore. Can’t honestly say I blame them, none of this is easy. Everyone’s just trying to get through as best they can. Living one day at a time. [SIGH] But I can’t afford to be just living one day at a time, I need… a plan. But I don’t even know what I’m trying to achieve… And no one… no one wants to tell me.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the… intersection [CHUCKLE] between free will and humanity. Still trying to figure that out myself. […] DAISY: You need to stop swanning around, being all sad. ARCHIVIST: I’m, I’m not “swanning around”– DAISY: “Boo-hoo, I’m so alone and a monster!” ARCHIVIST: I am alone, Martin is– DAISY: Busy. doing. paperwork. Not like he’s dead. Beside, he’s not the only other person here, you know. There’s me; Melanie; Basira– ARCHIVIST: Traumatised; traumatised; and paranoid, because of me. DAISY: Get over yourself! You’re always talking about choices – we all made ours.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: Why were we chosen? Agnes was created – crafted with a specific purpose so finely tuned that even a grain of uncertainty threatened the entirety of her being. [CHORTLING] But I’m so full of doubt it feels like there’s no room for anything else, and… I’m sure Martin is the same…! Is there “destiny” here? B–bloodlines and… prophecies, or did we just… stumble into this? Maybe we’re the opposite of Agnes; maybe our doubts are exactly what we need. I–if that’s the case, I’m a… an amazing chosen one. … [LONG EXHALE] Don’t know how that would work, though. … [SIGH] I’m just worried about Martin. … Christ… Every other Avatar gets to have their feelings… burned right out of them, but me? I’ve… just got to sit in mine.

And it’s been a constant throughout season 4! Nothing “bad” recently happened to sharpen him or to make him change his mind like this! The last time he went into a tangent about, precisely, his still having to bear all these “feelings” was two episodes ago! And nothing life-threatening happened to the assistants on his watch, no near-death accident which could have made him… change his mind and adopt that “the end justifies the means” attitude that he was strangely deadpan about in MAG141. Jon knows what the dreams do. When he apparently cracked the code, he seemed to been keen on avoiding further cases:

(MAG113) ARCHIVIST: I’m not too concerned, to be honest, my dreams are, uh… well, let’s just say I don’t think they’re going be letting anyone else in any time soon.

(MAG115, Mikaele Salesa) “So I suppose if it’s a statement you’re wanting… it’s no inconvenience to me. I don’t sleep well anyway.”

(MAG132) DAISY: I realized you were in my dreams. Reliving t… this. The coffin. You were there. ARCHIVIST: … Yes. DAISY: Didn’t think it was real. Not really… Just my mind putting you there, because I h–hated you but… no.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: And you’re not… worried about… DAISY: Basira’s trapped here. So are you. Not like I can be going anywhere anyway. ARCHIVIST: … I suppose not. So… no more dreams. DAISY: Not of you and your weird eyes. Just the coffin. ARCHIVIST: Is that better…? DAISY: ’T’s mine. ARCHIVIST: … right.

It’s not just nightmares for the victims – it’s a loss of control, it’s something that could potentially wreck their lives and reduce their lifespan. It’s not just “a few bad dreams”:

(MAG141) BASIRA: And now he’s going to see you in his dreams as he relives that for the rest of his life! ARCHIVIST: [INHALE SHARPLY] BASIRA: Because… because a tape recorder told you to do it?! ARCHIVIST: Yes, Basira, he is. And I am sorry about that. But we needed it. Anyway: you’re the one who wants to be like Gertrude. [SILENCE] You think she’d give a damn about a few bad dreams?

True, Jon has already taken live-statements in season 4, but under specific circumstances: he neutralized Breekon when he was ready to fight with Basira (MAG128), and took Jared’s statement to know more about the fact that his attack on the Institute had been orchestrated by someone else, as part of a deal offered by Jared (MAG131). Both cases were known multiple murderers and in urgent situations (both Breekon and Jared were capable of wrecking him) – and he even wrote down Breekon’s statement rather than speaking it outright. It had… nothing to do with forcing someone who, all right, had dealt in illegal business in the past but hadn’t killed anyone as far as we know and wasn’t a spook himself, to give a story that he was adamant to forget about! It’s not even a natural evolution (small steps would require some urgency or no other option), it’s going from 1 to 10 with no apparent incentive…? Jon had just checked that they still had two days on the boat. He could have chosen the (still very morally reprehensible) option to blackmail the guy through compulsion (like he did with Kurt in MAG103), in order to get his written statement…? There were other options than this!

So what is happening? Because I trust Jonny to destroy me emotionally, yes, but this was… so abrupt, so I still have trouble taking it at face value, I still feel like there must be something happening to explain the complete turn-over that Jon did between MAG140 and MAG141. Though yeah, I guess that it would also be a real tragedy (I find this infinitely sad, depowering and tragic so – it’s doing its job if it’s the case), but after so many talks about “choices” in season 4, and about how, maybe, the spooks we had met so far were… mostly Very Bad People to begin with, or people easily convinced to kill others if it would mean surviving themselves…

(MAG121) OLIVER: The thing is, Jon, right now, you have a choice. You’ve put it off a long time; but it’s trapping you here. You are not quite human enough to die, but – still too human to survive. You’re… balanced on an edge, where The End can’t touch you, but you can’t escape Him. I made a choice. We all made choices. […] Make your choice, Jon.

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: In many ways, The Slaughter fascinates me. There seems to be, in all cases, a question at its heart about… control. Is it a mindless dance, dragging participants along by the beat of a drum or… is there a kernel of will in there, a lucidity and deliberateness to the random fury and violence? I suppose that’s the question with so much of “violence”, “war”: how much are you really in command of yourself or of others? I’m not sure what scares me more: the idea that deep down, everyone is in complete control of their actions, that everything is, on some level, intentional; or that ultimately, we don’t have any control of ourselves at all, and the rest is just… rationalisation.

(MAG131) MELANIE: And then, one day, I suddenly have this thing that takes all that rage, and it holds it. Tells me it’s right. That it’s me. It didn’t stay in my leg because of some Ghostly Masterplan; it stayed… because I wanted it.

(MAG132) DAISY: I don’t want t–to be a s–sadistic predator again… I–I don’t want to… hobble around, like some pathetic, wounded prey either… I don’t know which would be worse. And I’m sc–scared, now, that I’ll never get the choice… ARCHIVIST: One thing I’ve learned, Daisy, is that we all get a choice. Even if it doesn’t feel like one.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. […] DAISY: Get over yourself! You’re always talking about choices – we all made ours.

… we would reach the conclusion that… no, the atrocities of the past will constantly repeat themselves; that Jon wasn’t able to learn enough from his mistakes and Gertrude’s; that in the end, Tim was right in MAG114 when he spat out that Jon “couldn’t not” because these spooks are pure instinct and you can’t do anything to refrain them, cue Jon now being unable to not jump on anyone with a Spooky Story, and finding it natural to doom them to get nightmares about it for the rest of their lives, without finding it problematic at all nor expressing any internal conflict…?

I’m not ready to give up on Jon as character-person (someone struggling, someone trying). If the Jon from MAG141 is What He Is Now and we’re getting that until the end of the season/series… I’m not ready ;; He would still be interesting to me as a character-character but I couldn’t empathise or sympathise with him much anymore if… he casually accepts to hurt people without sadness nor regret. So: I might be grasping at straws, I might be uselessly hoping, but… I don’t want this to be the end of it? Not yet? So, multiple possibilities that I am thinking about regarding this whole situation:

* The major difference with the rest of season 4 so far (except for MAG121 and MAG122) was that Jon wasn’t inside of the Institute/in the Archives. It could be possible that in Beholding’s temple, he is more “in control” of himself (and able to avoid casually hurting people if it serves him). Though: he was outside of the Institute in MAG122 and didn’t jump on Basira (who had More Spooky Stories, since she had experienced Peter Lukas’s reign over the Institute and The Flesh attack while Jon in the coma) nor Georgie (who had just met Oliver).

* Drinking at the Lonely Bar at the end of MAG139 actually messed Jon up more than he was aware and he was submerged without realising that he had “drowned”. Though: he… acted normal-Jon in MAG140 – wise-cracking, sighing a lot, being awkward and critical and… not glad about the whole necessity of the trip.

* This one feels more akin to wishful thinking to me than something actually likely, but orz I wanna hope and have faith in Jon, gdi.

Jon sounded… oddly focused on Basira after taking that statement – as if… making a point. He kind of cross-checked everything Basira expected from him: just answering to the call of a tape recorder:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: And we’ve got an audience. Perfect. I thought you said you decided to throw them all out. BASIRA: Yup. And I did. And here’s another one. ARCHIVIST: Maybe it’s hungry. BASIRA: Seriously? ARCHIVIST: I mean, I did have a statement I was planning to record.

(MAG141) BASIRA: Yeah, I heard. ‘anks. … What? ARCHIVIST: The tape recorder. BASIRA: [INHALE] Get ready. Any idea what’s coming? [QUICK FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: N–no, I’m… No, I–I don’t think that’s it. BASIRA: It’s not recording for nothing. ARCHIVIST: No, I… [STATIC RISING]… I think… [LOUDER] Excuse me? […] BASIRA: And now he’s going to see you in his dreams as he relives that for the rest of his life! ARCHIVIST: [INHALE SHARPLY] BASIRA: Because… because a tape recorder told you to do it?!

and being unable to not answer to the Call of knowledge and actively pursue it:

(MAG127) BASIRA: Don’t snoop in my head. ARCHIVIST: I’m not “snooping”, I’m not looking. That’s not… how this works.

(MAG128) BASIRA: Keep it safe, I’ll be gone a few days. I have some leads I need to follow up. ARCHIVIST: Sorry…?! BASIRA: You heard me. Don’t ask about them, and don’t know about them either. ARCHIVIST: I can’t exactly control that! BASIRA: Learn.

(MAG141) ARCHIVIST: I had to know. Basira. BASIRA: It wasn’t right. ARCHIVIST: … You could have stopped me. [SILENCE] But you wanted to know as well, didn’t you…? [SILENCE] [INHALE] Get some rest. Two days yet.

(And Jon, as far as we know, had managed to learn? Unless he hid it from us, he still doesn’t know that her intel was Elias, still doesn’t know what she was doing apart from what she told him. He also stopped meeting Martin when Martin told him to stop “finding” him. True, Jon tried to use his powers to see what The Dark was doing, and what Peter’s plans were, but… he was more in control, trying to use instead of being used, and it was to protect people!)

And Jon also reversed the dynamic by reminding Basira that she had elected Gertrude as role model, and he was merely behaving like she would have, ruthless methods included:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: You were hoping for a defender. BASIRA: I was hoping for someone I can trust to share the load. Because right now, it’s all on me. ARCHIVIST: [EXHALES, SLOW] It doesn’t have to be. BASIRA: Hm. ARCHIVIST: You’re not happy she is back. BASIRA: I didn’t say that, Jon. I would never abandon Daisy and, having her back is… [SIGH] But right now, she’s dead weight. And I need to be able to travel light. ARCHIVIST: … You’re starting to sound like Gertrude. BASIRA: Good. As far as I can see, Gertrude Robinson was the most effective person in this place.

(MAG141) ARCHIVIST: Anyway, you’re the one who wants to be like Gertrude. [SILENCE] You think she’d give a damn about a few bad dreams? BASIRA: … No. ARCHIVIST: No. She got the job done, and didn’t care about the costs. BASIRA: But I thought you did.

And it seems so… pointed? So orientated? So “look at me being the monster you needed”?

So I wonder (/probably: hope) if… Jon wasn’t mainly trying to disgust Basira, with this. Playing a role, and keeping calm and quiet because he needed for the lesson to sink in. Season 4 has been about him more or less saving the assistants: removing Melanie’s bullet; getting Daisy back. Martin is still inaccessible and a sore spot. He’s tried to reason with Basira, and she deflected every time, even when he capitulated and offered for her to “use” him even if she still didn’t want to trust him. He is making himself usable here, but also… making himself loathable. And I’m wondering if this might be the way he has found to try to “save” her, too, by making her realise that the system she wants to adopt is messed up, and disgusting, and not… very “her” either.

* Not incompatible with the above, there is technically another option, when Basira told Jon that Floyd would now get plagued with nightmares:

(MAG141) BASIRA: And now he’s going to see you in his dreams as he relives that for the rest of his life!

… the other option is: “for the rest of Jon’s life”.

Because another thing in season 4 so far has been Jon’s research on rituals: how Gertrude dealt with some, how some others cancelled themselves or failed independently from Gertrude (for example, in MAG135, “I’ll keep digging. If there is another ritual upcoming, I’ll need all the information I can get on it.”). The fact that Beholding still has its chance has been looming since even before Jon’s return to the Institute, and he went back to that notion much later, with restlessness – it’s absolutely possible that, with his digging about rituals, Jon has been trying to find something that could help prevent Beholding’s:

(MAG123) BASIRA: [SIGH] Alright. Best I can understand it, Beholding, or The Eye or… whatever you want to call it, we’re one of the only powers that hasn’t actually taken a shot at our ritual. Yet. And everything out there knows it. ARCHIVIST: … No, I mean, we… we can’t be the only ones, surely? BASIRA: I don’t know. Probably not. But we made a big noise with The Unknowing and… other stuff, and… now they’ve taken notice.

(MAG137) ARCHIVIST: Ever since I crawled out of that damn coffin, I feel like I’ve been… adrift. Filling in blanks and diving into History, but only…! [EXASPERATED SIGH] The breadcrumbs I’m finding are… stale. Old. … What the hell is The Watcher’s Crown? So far the only mention of it I’ve had is from Gerry, and he didn’t seem to know much about what it actually meant. [PAUSE] And he’s gone now. But if it is the grand ritual of Beholding, then I– … I mean… I need to know about it. Right…? I feel like I’m on a deadline, like I’m running out of time somehow – and I don’t even know where to go! What to look for, o–or… [EXHALE] Just casting around blindly for more clues to just… drop into my lap.

Gertrude’s methods mostly consisted in using either explosives or the Fears’s antitheticals – Vast-touched Jan Kilbride neutralised The Buried, and she had planned for a Beholding-touched person to be the one activating the explosive during The Unknowing:

(MAG137) GERTRUDE: To be sure, I–I think the detonation would need to happen from within The Unknowing, while it was going on. Gerard may have a connection to The Eye, but I’m not convinced it will be enough. And I will admit I’ve grown… fond of the boy.

… which ended up happening with Tim. And, right before Basira came in with Flamsteed’s statement, Jon read how… Agnes had asked her own followers to hang her, officially to allow their cult another chance soon – and possibly, given Jack Barnabas’s statement and Agnes’s melancholia about how she hadn’t chosen this life… to plainly make sure that their ritual wouldn’t happen? And Jon did confess to Daisy that he wasn’t sure that he had been right to choose to “become” something else, that he felt like a potential danger, and that he was actively willing to sacrifice his life if it meant saving others:

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else so, if I can maybe stop that happening, and [DRY CHUCKLE] the only danger is to me, I– I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario… the universe loses another monster. DAISY: That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST: [LOW SELF-DEPRECATIVE DRY LAUGHTER] … Yeah. I suppose it is. DAISY: Did you know the coffin wouldn’t kill you? ARCHIVIST: I– guess I thought imprisonment wouldn’t… wouldn’t be as bad as it was. And it’s a lot easier to make that choice than it is to actually… endure the result. You might have noticed when I was in there with you, I… I had regrets. DAISY: Yeah. I remember. ARCHIVIST: Plus, I thought… [PAUSE] W– [SIGH] Well, I didn’t know what being down there had done to you. DAISY: You thought I was gonna kill you? ARCHIVIST: It was a possibility. DAISY: Guess so.

… so I wonder if Jon isn’t trying… to make Basira disgusted enough with him for her to be ready to sacrifice him when they fight against The Dark, because that would be his logical conclusion to both neutralise it and Beholding in one go, without having to lose anyone else…? He said that Melanie has been doing better; that Daisy and Basira seemed a bit warmer. Martin has cut him out. From Jon’s perspective, he probably doesn’t have a lot to come back for…?

(Or yes, maybe I’m just in denial. SHHHHH.)

Title for MAG142 is out, and MMMMMM does it sound like a Beholding title?! (So not necessarily Jon&Basira-related; could be back to Martin at the Institute. Poor Martin.) Potentially Hunt, I guess, too??

And Anil teases Things and I don’t know if I can get my hopes up for Julia&Trevor………….. because The Dark is Julia’s family story, and she became a Hunter to survive them… (And OOOPS, remember how Trevor had described Darvish in MAG109? “Point is, soon as I saw [Darvish], I knew he were there one I were after. There was a smell to him. Something dark and sick, rolling off him in waves. [SCOFF] Sure, he didn’t smell like a vampire, but he smelt like something that weren’t meant to be in this world. So, I reckoned I best help him out of it!” … I wonder if another-Hunter-than-Daisy would react in front of Jon, nowadays…)

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Fruity

Summary: Being personal security for the president, Laxus always had to be alert, particularly in a foreign country. This would be fine, if it weren't for the beautiful waiter who kept catching his eye at every moment.

Notes: This is for day five of Fraxus Week 2021. As normal, check out @fuckyeahfraxus for more content.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

From the Fields of Italy

Year: 1922

Location: Rome, Italy

Dissasosaition was a key part of Laxus' job. Being a member of the President's personal security team meant he was privy to multiple private and politically significant conversations. Debates, arguments, and compromises would be made in front of him, and he would learn things that a man of his station had no right knowing. Another man might have taken the opportunity to eavesdrop, but Laxus cared little for that. His entire focus was to be on protecting his charge, and as such the politics were unimportant.

Particularly when the dick seemed to stand against everything Laxus cared about.

It had become necessary to learn to focus on other things. Counting the bricks on a nearby building, watching as people passed by, and sometimes going so far as to make up little rhymes and brain teasers in his head. It all allowed him to drown out the bullshit the president was talking about, and better do his job.

Of course, he did focus. Anyone approaching the president was immediately a danger, and Laxus had to watch every move they made, particularly when they were out of country. When Laxus had been told that the president would be undergoing a European tour to better connect with the other countries now that the war was long over, he had known it would be difficult. Anyone might take issue with the president's international opinions, and as such Laxus needed to be wary of everyone near him.

This would have been acceptable – it was his job, after all – but an issue had arisen. The waiter.

The beautiful waiter

Even thinking of the man as beautiful was unprofessional. Laxus was there to do a job, not indulge in his own interests. It was why he'd been consistently given small rooms, cheap and uncomfortable seats in the flight, and little to no respect from his employers. He was there to do a job, not to enjoy himself.

But there was something about the man that was alluring. He was of a good height, with slighter features than Laxus' own but strong in his own sense. His skin had the slight tan that came with the European sun, and a single mark below his eye was the only break from perfect symmetry. His long hair swished down his back in long, silky strands, and Laxus had found himself wondering what it would feel like to run his hand through.

The man was serving the president, who didn't give him a second glance. He brought water, food, and cutlery without making his presence known, and yet Laxus was transfixed. He was quietly elegant in his movements, walking with the slightest sway and it felt like he was dancing around the room with each step.

How was nobody else being affected by this?

Maybe they were, and just hid it. That's what Laxus was forced to do. He stood as part of a circle of six, allowing the president to eat safely in the public restaurant. No doubt the people around them posed no actual threat; even if the stop in the restaurant looked impromptu, it had been planned months in advance and no doubt all the people had booked upon hearing it, and had been checked over time and time again. It was all for show; just a gentle reminder that, although the Italian people might not be pleased about the president's actions during the war, they couldn't do anything about it. They needed to look stone faced and intimidating.

The waiter wasn't at all intimidated. He was completely uncaring towards the fact the president was before him, and instead acted as though he was any other customer. He'd even asked the president a question directly, and was unblinking at the glare he was given for his rudeness.

Watching the man was like watching a show. Laxus just didn't know how it would end.

By the time, the main course had been brought out, Laxus had regained his focus. He was there to protect the man sitting and eating, not to be quietly fascinated by the man who was bringing him his food. Laxus got passing fancies on men often, it was natural given his inclination for men and the inability to actually follow through on anything because of his duties. This was no more than seeing a man he would like to dance with at a club. The waiter just had the unfamiliar addition of not being American, and therefore felt somewhat exotic.

He'd told himself that, and convinced himself it was true, until the desserts were brought out. The waiter placed them before the president and his party and, just as he turned to return to the kitchen, he looked to Laxus and smiled.

Laxus felt like he'd been struck.

No smile had affected him, not in any way. Laxus was hardly a romantic person, and the idea that someone might smile at you and turn your world around was overly sweetened crap written in books to appeal to lonely people. But as the waiter looked at him for just the smallest of moments, hair falling across his face slightly as his white teeth split apart, he felt nauseous and ignited all at once. He couldn't think of any other way to describe it.

The man went back to the kitchen, and Laxus knew his stance had wavered and his concentration gone. For a moment he stood in a gaping silence, wanting to both flee the scene and to storm into the kitchen to demand an explanation for what had happened. Instead, he caught the eye of his commander, who glared him back to attention.

He just had to ignore the waiter. Push him to the back of his mind, and within the hour he'd be gone.

---

"What are you eating?"

The words were a silky-smooth sensation, and deeply Italian. Laxus took a moment to realise that he was being addressed, and turned with the smallest of frowns to see who had spoken to him. He was alone, and he certainly didn't know anyone who spoke in such a chocolatey accent. Nobody on his team had even half the rumbling baritone, and he found himself wondering who that voice would belong to.

When he turned and saw the waiter, he froze.

How was the man here? It was the evening now, and Laxus was nowhere near the restaurant the waiter worked at. He was somewhere tucked away, not in the tourist areas of the city but not exactly near the residential areas. He supposed this was where a pretentious man might call the 'Real Italy.' Did the man live here?

Before he could fall into questions, he realised what the waiter had asked. He looked down to the chalky lettuce and cheese sandwich he'd been given for his evening meal, then back to the man who was frowning at him.

"A sandwich," Laxus said, because what else could he say.

"A sandwich," The waiter parroted.

"Yes."

"You realise that you're insulting everyone from my country by eating that here, don't you?"

"If you wanna take it up with my commander, feel free."

"You could not buy something more respectable?"

"Not allowed to carry money around."

Why was he talking with the man? Well, he knew at least in part it was because he had been truly spellbound by the man, and the revelation of his incredible voice had only further added to the man's majesty. Laxus was not one to shy away from strong emotions – not that he felt them often – and he wasn't going to cower now that an opportunity had presented itself to him. But why were they talking about his dinner?

The man, in the dimming sun, looked radiant. He still wore the uniform of the restaurant, but his hair hung loose now, and he seemed more relaxed. Now, without the need to watch his charge, Laxus could see the sharp cut of the man's jaw and the deceptive fragility of his skin. He truly was beautiful.

"That is ridiculous, and certainly not acceptable," The waiter sounded affronted. "Come."

Laxus processed the demand a moment later, and found himself following him before he could think. Both survival instincts and training deemed this a stupid idea – he was following a total stranger through an unfamiliar city – and yet he did it anyway. The man had authority, and Laxus had been attracted by it.

"I would have thought you'd be looking after that repulsive man you deemed fit to lead you," The waiter commented when Laxus was in step with him. So he had remembered Laxus then; he hadn't been sure.

"Night off," Laxus shrugged. "And I don't think he's fit to lead. But the vote said that he was."

"And yet you still serve him?"

"It's a living."

"Hardly seems like living when you're leaning against a building eating bread and cheese because of your commander while in a cultural monolith known for its delicacies," The man hummed aloud, turning a corner, and increasing his pace. "In my mind, that it more a way to get money than a way to live."

"It is what it is."

"Your employer ate at a lavish restaurant, had four courses and larger servings than normal," The man shrugged. "It was expensive. The money could have been diverted from him to you."

"That's not how it works."

The waiter didn't say anything after that. He kept walking, and Laxus kept following.

Eventually, an open-air marketplace appeared, and the waiter walked directly towards it. Laxus kept in pace, allowing himself to be guided through the vendors who shouted for their attention and custom. Laxus' Italian was bad at best, and so the shouting merged into a mess of unfamiliar slang, and so he let the waiter take the lead completely. He spoke to vendors, passers-by, and did so with beautifully fluent Italian. Logically Laxus knew that would be the case – the man was Italian for god's sake – but it was beautiful to hear.

Quickly, they were at the other end of the market, and the waiter had accrued a hamper of food and a bottle of wine. He'd paid for it all himself and, as their conversation hadn't continued, Laxus found himself wondering where his place in the situation was. Still, he followed.

"Sit," The waiter said again, motioning to a small stone wall overlooking a stream.

"You're demanding," Laxus commented, but he did sit.

"And you work a job where you follow orders of a man you don't like, so I suspect it won't bother you," The waiter sat on the wall also, and placed the hamper between them. "My name is Freed. What's yours?"

"Laxus."

"It's strong," Freed commented, unwrapping some of the food from the hamper. He made a gesture towards the food as he uncorked the wine. "Eat."

"What?"

"Eat."

Laxus looked down to the hamper of food. It was filled mainly with fresh and colourful looking fruit, but also wrapped packets of cheese, biscuits and two small pastries. He hesitated for a moment, and glanced up towards Freed. The man was looking at him with a peculiar mix of intensity and patience, and Laxus felt himself flushing slightly as he reached into the hamper and tentatively picked up a strawberry. Freed waited patiently, watching Laxus as he slowly brought the strawberry to his lips and bit into it.

Well, he certainly didn't expect it to taste quite so… vibrant.

Apparently, his expression must have betrayed his shock, as Freed laughed openly. Laxus wanted to glare, but instead found himself hypnotised as Freed lifted the opened wine to his lips and drank straight from the bottle. Good god, did the man know what he was doing to Laxus?

"You must have travelled a lot over the past few weeks," Freed stated, reaching into the hamper, and pulling out the wrapped cheese. He pulled out a chunk of it, crumbled it and placed it onto a cracker. He then picked up a single grape, placed it atop the cheese and ate it. Laxus found himself following the movement of his neck as Freed swallowed.

"Suppose so," Laxus nodded.

"Anywhere particularly interesting to you?"

"Not really," Laxus replied. He hesitated for a moment, then looked down to the hamper of food and pulled out an apple. He bit into it before he could second-guess himself. "It's my second night off since we landed, and the first night was at a docking town so hardly beautiful."

"Good," Freed commented. "Rome will look rather good in comparison then."

"So far, yeah."

"Perhaps one day you will return as a tourist?"

"Doubt it, can't afford it."

"Shame," Freed hummed, looking towards Laxus with the same beautiful smile that sent a flicker through Laxus' spine. "You should make the most of your night here."

"Suppose I should."

They were quiet, and Laxus could feel Freed's eyes roaming over him unapologetically. Laxus didn't do anything to stop it, and instead took a bite of his apple and allowed the man's eyes to wander. He might have tensed his bicep when he knew Freed was looking at his arms, and Freed laughed but made no complaint.

He looked beautiful when he laughed and Laxus wondered how he could get better. He was quickly answered because what Freed did made him radiant.

It was nothing, really. He simply had taken one of the large peaches that he'd brought and bit into it. That was hardly anything, and yet it made Laxus' stomach churn. The way the mans eyes closed, the way his teeth closed around the fruit, the way the juice seemed to intentionally drip down his throat, coating it in an indescribable sheen of fruit-flavoured droplets that reflected the flickering lights surrounding them.

When Freed's eyes opened again, he looked directly to Laxus. He paused for a moment, eyes scanning Laxus' face, before he grinned a little. It was a private sight, and Laxus found himself copying the expression.

"As I said," Freed spoke again, voice quieter. "Make the most of it while you're here."

Laxus didn't need to be told twice. He leant forward and pressed their lips together, the tantalising taste of fruit and cheese melding as they leant into one another. Laxus did what he'd wanted to do the moment he saw Freed, and wrapped a hand deep into his hair, and slowly began to stroke it as he leant into the man. Freed groaned slightly, tilting his chin, and kissing him deeper.

He didn't care that someone might see him, it didn't matter. He was in an unknown city from a foreign country where nobody knew him, and he would indulge himself. He would take what he wanted, and delight in the company of this beautiful man and take whatever he would be given.

He deserved this, and if nothing else, he would always have the memory of kissing the enchantingly handsome man. An untainted memory for him to cherish.

[marshmallowprotection]

AU: High School

Part 4

Pairing: Saeran Choi x Lila Lancelot (OC)

“And so if you take this... and do this...” 

The class had begun. 

Lila had managed to squeeze into her last class of the day right before the tardy bell went off overhead.

She breathed and a sigh of relief, and sunk into her seat as the instructor began to teach. However, she was so far removed from the equations and facts of Chemistry, as the only thing that she could think about was Ray. She had seen him once or twice before in the hallways but this was the first time that they had actually crossed paths; And, this was the first time that she had really gotten a good look at him. 

She hadn’t expected him to have such green eyes... not that she expected him to have any specific look or anything. It reminded her of the winding evergreen that surrounded her house, and for some reason, that made her heart flutter in her chest. 

She shook the memory of his face from her head. You’re being ridiculous, Lila. He just happened to bump into you... but how did he know my name? I didn’t even know his. He could have heard it among the grapevine since they went to the same school, or maybe... Lucy might have thrown her under the bus. 

The latter of which seemed to be the likely answer to conclude. That weighed on her like a ton of bricks until school concluded and the final bell rang which freed her from those four walls, and it stayed in her head even as she went straight to work from school. 

She set down her bags and after checking with her Grandmother to make sure that all the orders were taken care of for the day, she headed out into the gardens to unwind from the high paced anxiety that had rushed throughout her head at the end of the day. 

The familiar path of roses leads her through into a winding labyrinth of tall hedges until she reaches an impasse. At least, it seems like the end of a path, rounding the corner, she slides through the human-sized opening and reveals a tall thicket of purple-branches bellowing over the land. It seemed to overwhelm the landscape, and yet, it seemed to belong there. 

This time of year, it was in bloom. 

The vibrant colors stole her breath away, and today, it was no different. However, there was one thing that was new. Somebody was standing in the middle of her garden when they shouldn’t have been. 

“Excuse me, what are you doing this far into the gardens? This spot is off limits to guests during this time of year. There’s a little sign there for a reason, or can you not read the-” Lila stopped short of finishing her sentence, and stared at the mop of white hair that belonged to the person that occupied her spot underneath the Wisteria trunk. 

“Sign...” she trailed. She thought that she wouldn’t see him today since they had come face to face, but here he was, in the gardens once again. She just hadn’t expected to find him in her special spot of all places.  It was him again, alright, he wasn’t easy to miss. 

Ray turned around and offered an apologetic look to Lila. He fiddled with his hands in front of himself, tugging at the ends of his sleeves that had not been rolled up like in hours prior. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was. If I had known I wouldn’t have wandered in here.” 

“It-It's alright,” Lila murmured. Her hands flopped to her side as she found herself watching him. “I’m just the one in charge of taking the Wisteria and making sure that it doesn’t invade the rest of the gardens. I’m pretty protective of the garden, I thought you were a troublemaker for a moment. That’s my mistake, Ray, so I’m sorry.” 

She bowed her head. “You’ve been nothing but respectful to this place as far as I’ve seen.” When she lifted her head, she noticed that Ray’s cheeks had the smallest inkling of pink to them. 

“I-I understand how you feel,” he reached out and let his fingers brush against the hanging petals from the tree. “I would hate it if someone hurt my precious flowers as well.” 

“Your flowers?” she asked, starting to him approach him little by little until she was in front of him. “D-Do you happen to have your own garden, Ray?” 

Ray’s smile was tiny but she could see it. “I did. I don’t have it anymore and that’s why I came here to your garden. I-I missed being surrounded by flowers that have been cared for properly with love. I can see that you put a-a lot of heart into taking care of this place for your family. I couldn’t help but wonder in here. It’s really beautiful. You’ve done a... a really good job with this place, I’m envious.” 

“Oh, um, well,” Lila murmured, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Thank you, Ray. Nobody’s ever really told me that before. I-I don’t know what to say... um, besides thanks, that is.”  

Ray’s gracious smile was still on his face. 

He turned his head away from Lila and took in the view of the everlasting branches and vines that sprouted from this particular tree. He started to walk towards where the hedges had a small gap back to the rest of the gardens space. “Well... I... I should get going from this spot, I won’t trespass this side of the garden, again, I promise. I didn’t want to cause you any kind of trouble when I came here.” 

“Ray, wait,” Lila called out before he was too far gone. “Hold on a second.” 

He turned his head around. 

“I know we don’t really... know each other or anything but... you... you can come inside my garden whenever you want to do so,” she murmured. 

“If, if that’s what you want to do, I mean! I don’t mind it since you’ve been so kind to all the flowers in the gardens. Don’t think I haven’t seen you plucking weeds and helping out wherever it's needed when nobody’s looking at you. Not a lot of people appreciate this sort of thing, and I think you do. I don’t believe you would do any harm by coming in here after school if you want too. If anyone gives you trouble just tell them that I said it was okay, alright?” 

“...Really?” 

She nodded. 

“Thank you... Lila, I mean it.” 

“You’re welcome. I can see how much it means to you.” 

[hufflepuff-ravenclaw-reviews]

Proven Innocent Season 1 Episode 1

Being a crime drama, this review discusses suicide, murder, drug use, and the murder of a child.

Before I begin my review, I'd like to preface it by stating that a few years ago, there was another show with a similar plot based around a Project Innocence theme. It only lasted for one season, but I really rather enjoyed it while it lasted.

I also love crime dramas, and true crime. So obviously, this show is perfect for me.

Anyway...

Met our main character, Madeline Scott. She's a lawyer, who goes to somebody's house late at night. She has a court order for a DNA sample, but the guy isn't exactly eager to give Madeline anything. He has a gun, although Madeline is quick to tell him that if she goes missing or is injured, then cops will come to get the DNA sample... and to find out what happened to Madeline. However, the man turns the gun to himself instead. Madeline calls 911, but instead hangs up. She takes a blood sample... and the guy's dog.

But Madeline hasn't always been a lawyer. Before that, she and her brother, Levi, had been convicted of killing their friend, Rosemary, and sat in jail for 10 years before the court overturned the ruling and said that they were innocent. After that, Madeline went to Harvard, where she graduated top of her class, and went on to go work for the man who'd helped her, who now runs a Project Innocence-like organization.

Some time later, Madeline goes to court to defend a man who'd been wrongfully convicted. The prosecutor is the same man who put Madeline and Levi away, so when he comes into the courtroom, she has a lot of traumatic flashbacks involving the day that she and her brother were convicted. Madeline goes up to start arguing her case, but before she can, the prosecutor steps up and says that he's withdrawing the case, and he believes that he made a mistake in putting the man away.

Later, the law firm holds a fundraiser. They might help those that they believe to be wrongfully convicted for free, but they need to get money from somewhere. Rich donors is a good place to start. At the mixer, Madeline talks to a reporter. He seems intent on going on a date with Madeline, although it seems as though she's always brushing him off.

Finally, the prosecutor announces that he's running for... some sort of fancy office. This understandably ticks Madeline off something fierce. So she brings them a case: Gothic Child Killer. And... that name says enough, don't you think? But here's a few problems: first off, the lady had been a pastor's wife, and she dressed accordingly in literally all old photos of her that they could find. Second, she insists that something was done to her in the ambulance ride, which leads to a missing toxicology report. Talking with her in prison reveals that she doesn't know why she confessed to the murder, and she barely remembers that night at all. Madeline's boss isn't exactly happy about the entire affair.

Meanwhile, while Madeline has been making quite the name for herself as somebody other than “Rosemary's murderer”, Levi has been struggling. He has a job coaching kid's soccer, but he's one day confronted by two of his former “friends” who don't like that their conviction was overturned. They come back to beat him up after practice is over; Levi tries to talk him down, and reminds them that you could face upwards of ten years in jail. But that doesn't matter, hit with baseball bat.

Madeline goes to get her brother out from jail (which we don't see). But as she goes into the courthouse, she runs into the wife of the guy, one of her former “friends” as well. The lady says that a lot of people still think that Madeline and Levi should never have gotten out, because they killed Rosemary. Madeline turns the tables and says that she's certain that Heather killed Rosemary. That seems to shut her up, at least.

Later, one of the lawyers comes back after having poked around the firehouse for a while. He says that the fire captain said that the year of the fire, it was a “charcoal Christmas”. That it to say, there was a production of cheap Christmas lights that set a lot of fires on Christmas trees that year. And while nobody can say for certain that the lady had bought those lights, it sure raises a few questions.

Madeline and her boss, Ezekiel “Easy” go to talk to the EMT. She says that she didn't give the lady anything, but drew her blood, because that's standard procedure. They know that the toxicology report is missing... doubly so because Madeline found a copy of a report with a staple in it, and it said “see attached report”, but there was literally only one page. They ask the EMT if she could get the report for them. She's reluctant, but comes through in the end. The report says that the lady was suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning, which among other things, puts people into a highly suggestible state.

Finally, the lady had said that her husband said all of these things about how awful and cruel that she was. However, his testimony was in English, and do you want to guess what language that the man barely speaks? English. Bodie, the investigator, is sent out to find the man.

First, Easy tries to get the prosecutor to make a plea. However, he kind of refuses... until Easy mentions “Oh gee, what a shame it would be to your career as a politician if these missing toxicology reports were released to the press...”

Madeline and Easy go talk to the lady in prison. Easy just wants the lady to agree to child endangerment, where she'll be let out for time served. However, upon prompting from their client, Madeline gives an impassioned speech about wanting to do the right thing, even if it's not easy. She wants to go to court. Easy reams Madeline out over this, stating that she's manipulating the client. Madeline however, views it as emphasizing with the lady, because she was once in her shoes. Although, I personally feel like she's walking a thin line between the two.

Bodie eventually comes back from having found the now ex-husband... who beat poor Bodie up because he was scared that Bodie was ICE. Anyway, this leads them to the conclusion that they need to look into the translator who'd provided the transcription for the husband.

And because we also have the season/series wide question of “who killed Rosemary” (her killer never having been caught), Levi calls up Madeline after being fired from his job. He confesses to his sister that he and Rosemary had been together romantically. Madeline had been certain that Levi had only just found Rosemary's body, but now she's not quite sure if that's the case.

She's also got quite a wall of evidence about Rosemary's murder going in the little office where she sleeps. (And the dog she stole from the guy at the beginning of the show is there now, too.)

The judge had previously just about thrown out their case the day before, before Bodie had shown up. However, the next day, they bring in the translator... Who has been arrested for having mistranslated so many statements, all according to what HE thought was right and wrong.

The judge is rightfully horrified over this, and almost immediately sets the poor woman free. The prosecutor, in the mean time, in an effort to try and save face, says that he's going to look into some of his past cases to try and find out if this particular translator might have affected any other cases. However, the judge doesn't exactly seem very thrilled with this idea.

I was kind of looking forward to what this show could offer, and I have to say, I'm not disappointed in the least. The scene when the old man was freed, and then again when the lady was freed had me in near tears. The on-going mystery of who really killed Rosemary is interesting. Madeline is a sympathetic character (the same could not be said of the main character from the other drama series). And the cases are realistic; I could be watching this unfolding on my local news.

Overall, a great first episode, and I'm looking forward to the rest of the season.

[theepitomeofamess]

Guess you’d call this chapter 2?

Back by demand of maybe 3 people (specifically @individual-charlie) here’s a continuation of what I posted a few hours ago. Not as much theater and singing, but plenty of Logince for people who are trash like me.

High school AU, Theater AU, Logince, 2681 words, no warnings (i think)

The rest of the rehearsal went off without a hitch. Logan turned out to be the same size as Dexter, which meant all of the costumes they had prepared fit perfectly. His portrayal of the narrator was practically type-casting, and his work with the mysterious man’s riddles was wonderful.

Before he knew it, Roman was walking out of rehearsal by Logan’s side, going on and on about how well he’d done and how he couldn’t wait for tomorrow’s rehearsal and opening night and he knew Logan would do well and-

“How did you know?” Logan’s question was too calm, obviously holding something back. Roman hummed in response. “How did you know?” Those were the only words Logan seemed to be able to say.

“I’m observant,” Roman shrugged. “Also I might’ve heard you a few times helping other people run through lines and songs and you got really into the parts you were given. I don’t know why nobody else thought of you. Hey do you wanna go to Waffle House?” Logan opened his mouth to argue with Roman but seemed to get whiplash from how fast Roman changed the subject.

“I- what?”

“I’m feeling like some hash browns, maybe an omelette. It’s cheap and close. You in?”

“I thought the cast said they were going to Cookout.”

“Yeah, they are, but we don’t have to do everything as a cast, do we? I wanna talk to you a bit more.”

“I need to get home and do my homework.”

“Do you have anyone here to pick you up?”

“No, I usually walk.” Roman’s heart sank into his stomach at that comment. It was so casual, so nonchalant.

“Does anybody walk with you?” Roman must not have done a very good job of masking his concern, because Logan’s brow furrowed in slight confusion. Roman wasn’t exactly mad at his open concern. They didn’t live in a bad area of town, but anything could happen to a person walking alone, especially in this day and age.

“No.” Roman squared his jaw unintentionally. “It’s not like it’s a long walk. My neighborhood’s ten minutes that way,” he pointed the direction out, “then five or ten more to get from the neighborhood entrance to my parent’s house.” Roman’s eyes ran over Logan’s slight figure. Was all that exercise why he’s so skinny? He was flooded with more concern when he realized that a ten minute walk in the direction Logan had pointed out would be across a busy highway where a lot of crashes have occurred. He gritted his teeth.

“What’d you have for lunch?” Logan cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out why Roman was asking all of these questions.

“An orange.” Roman’s eyes blew wide, his mouth opening to say something but Logan cut him off. “All I had was a dollar, I didn’t have any money in my account, it was either an orange or a cookie and I didn’t feel like having something so sweet and unhealthy.” Roman’s fingers combed his hair, frustration threatening to tear the strands out.

“What about supper? Do your parents have anything planned?”

“I mean, I think I still have a few ramen cups left. If not, there’s always a peanut butter and Crofter’s sandwich.” Roman had to hold himself back from screaming at the comment and how carelessly it was delivered. Logan didn’t seem to care at all that what he was describing sounded like living off the bare minimum and Roman couldn’t have that.

“Okay, no. Let me get you a proper meal, my treat, if you eat it all there, that’s great, but otherwise you take what you will in a box and I’ll drive you home. Okay?” Logan opened his mouth to protest, but Roman stepped forward, cutting him off. “Please, just let me. For my sake if not yours. Otherwise I’ll worry myself to death over what you’re eating, where you are, what may or may not have happened, just… please let me?” Logan’s confusion relaxed, looking up at Roman in an attempt to try and identify what exactly that expression implied, what he was trying to say.

“All right,” Logan conceded, “fine. But again, this is for your sake, not mine.” Roman grinned, nodding as he took Logan’s hand to lead him to his car. His red Nissan Sentra wasn’t the most attractive thing, but it was also the one his parents had passed down to him so they could get a new one for themselves, and it got him where he needed to go. He decided to wait until another day to tell Logan that he called it The Argo.

The drive was quiet, Logan not wanting to distract Roman from the road and Roman not wanting to make Logan uncomfortable - or any more than he already was. As Logan swiped through his phone, reading something that Roman couldn’t make out, Roman’s mind wandered to the first time he’d met Logan.

They knew each other long before they met. Logan had always been on the quiet side for the most part. Not shy, just quiet. When Roman first saw him on the back row of the choir room Freshman year, sitting on his own and reading a book that looked like it had been worn down within an inch of its life, he’d gotten curious. When he’d heard him sing, he’d wanted to talk to him but could never quite find him as he was swarmed by others talking to him and Logan always moved so quickly to get out of there.

They finally met a year ago when Logan took up the task of playing the accompaniment for the musical on piano. It was hard to get band people to do orchestra considering half of them were only there for the arts credit and the other half had other things that kept them from doing anything else after school. The first song Roman heard Logan playing was Married Life from Up. Logan hadn’t stopped when Roman leaned up against the piano and grinned. They’d exchanged some compliments and some banter before Roman got called away.

That was their relationship for the last year. A quick exchange of banter, an argument here and there, a smirk from Roman and a glance from Logan. Logan often got called up to play the accompaniment for choir, Thomas having taken a liking to his piano playing and how it freed up his own hands to conduct and correct the choir at large. Roman enjoyed how Logan played because from where he was seated, he managed to get a glimpse at both his concentrated expression and his dancing fingers. The two were a contradiction of each other, his expression completely blank and his fingers oozing every emotion of the song he was playing.

That was around the same time that Roman found Logan helping other theater kids with lines. The first time he’d discovered it he was helping Virgil with a scene for his acting class that Joan had suggested he take to help with his public speaking. It had been a dramatic monologue for Virgil, and he'd asked Logan to do it as an example. Roman had overheard and gotten pulled away just before Logan could finish, but he'd been able to hear the passion in Logan’s voice, the pain that the monologue was meant to bring out. He'd wanted to see Logan do an actual performance ever since.

“Anything for you boys to drink?” The waitress had a voice that rang of cigarettes and shouting, the friction making Roman’s chest quiver. He didn't quite remember pulling into the driveway or parking or holding the door open for Logan so he could go in and pick out a booth, but they were there and that's all that mattered at that point.

“A diet Coke for me, please,” Roman replied.

“Water and a coffee, please.” Roman tried not to squint at Logan’s choice of coffee.

“Coming right up.” The woman smiled against her foundation-filled wrinkles before going back behind the counter to fix the drinks.

“Coffee? Won't that keep you awake?”

“That’s the idea.” Logan’s response somehow brought Roman’s attention to how dark the rings around Logan’s eyes were, how his eyes burned red with exhaustion. Roman had heard Logan lecturing Virgil about getting enough sleep plenty of times before. Was he really so hypocritical?

“You should probably look into getting some rest. You look like you need it.”

“I could say the same to you.” Logan glanced up from the menu, eyeing Roman’s dark circles and messy hair. He cut Roman off before he could pursue the subject. “What’s good here, anyway? Is it all just breakfast?” Roman paused, his mouth still hanging open a bit in disbelief.

“Have you never been here before?” Logan shook his head. “How have you-”

“Here ya go, boys. Diet Coke, and a water and coffee. You want some cream with that, sweetheart?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alrighty, you boys ready to order?”

“I’ll just have whatever he’s having.” Logan’s request put an unusually heavy weight on Roman’s shoulders. Everything seemed to be happening around him instead of with him. The waitress looked to him for the order. After a moment’s silence, Roman looked up to the waitress, flashing a smile.

“Two egg fiesta omelette and large hashbrowns, please.”

“Two of those, comin’ right up.” The waitress smiled again before turning to shout the order at the chef.

“Is it always so empty in here?” Logan’s question recaptured Roman’s attention, reminding him that he’d never been to Waffle House before.

“Only around this time of day. Lots of people come for breakfast, as you can imagine, then the stoners and drunks come later at night.”

“Like Taco Bell?”

“I’m not sure,” Roman chuckled, “I’m not usually out here at two in the morning.” That comment gained a twitch at the corner of Logan’s mouth as he sipped his coffee. “So how have you never been out here? I've never met anyone that hasn't been to Waffle House.”

“I don't tend to go out anywhere for dinner. Grew up on anything microwavable and that could be eaten straight out of the fridge or cabinet.” Roman’s smile faded a bit at the thought. Never going out?

“Your parents penny pinchers?” Logan’s eyes fell to watch his coffee as he swirled it.

“In a way.” Concern returned to weigh heavy on Roman’s shoulders before Logan took in a deep breath, straightening himself out. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Hm?”

“You said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah, and that's what we’re doing. We’re talking.” Logan’s eyes squinted and flicked away from Roman to think on what he’d said.

“I suppose you're right.” Roman smirked at Logan’s conclusion. “If you don't mind, though, I’d prefer if we change the subject. Like why the hell you pulled me up and put me on the spot with no warning.”

“Because I knew you could do it. You pay enough attention to have the lines memorized, you've got a powerful voice, and you're a great actor.” Logan paused, looking across the table to Roman.

“Coming from you, that means a lot, but that still doesn't explain why you couldn’t at least confer with me before pouncing on me and dragging me up there.”

“If I’d asked you would’ve refused, and we need you. Besides, you deserve some time in the limelight, with all that talent you're packing.”

“You should know that I don't know how to take a compliment.” Roman shrugged, opening his mouth to continue only to get cut off. “How do you think you did on that math test earlier this week?”

“Pardon?” Roman got a chance to collect himself as the waitress set their meals in front of them, grinning at the pair of them with lipstick-stained teeth. They thanked her in almost perfect unison before she was gone again.

“The math test. I saw you at tutoring for it and am curious as to how you think you did.” Roman hummed, grabbing the ketchup from the metal rack under the window. He’d almost forgotten that Logan was in his math class.

“I don’t know, I probably flunked it. Again. Math isn't exactly my best subject. It’s boring, I can’t focus.” Ketchup squirted onto Roman’s hash browns as Logan cut a piece out of his omelette, looking it over to see what exactly is in it.

“I could help you, if you like.” Roman looked up from his plate, hope glittering in his eyes before fizzling out when he thought twice.

“I mean, you can try if you want to, but I’m pretty much a hopeless case, so-”

“No one-” Logan cleared his throat after swallowing the bite. “No one’s a hopeless case. Next time you come to tutoring, come find me. We’ll see what we can do.” Roman grinned at the offer, his grin earning a soft smile from Logan as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Thanks,” he replied a bit too quietly. “What do you think so far?”

“Better than I expected. The jalapeno has a nice kick.”

The rest of the night was quiet. The two of them talked about food and music and singing and Broadway and eventually things that made no sense. Roman found out that Logan’s favorite musical is Hamilton and made sure Logan knew that he planned to hear him rap Guns and Ships at some point or another. They talked about school and Shakespeare and poetry, which Logan seemed unusually excited about, his excitement making his almost black eyes glitter in a way that made it impossible for Roman not to giggle. Roman cleaned his plate and Logan took home a box with half an omelette and most of his hash browns despite seeming like he really enjoyed the meal, his lack of appetite causing Roman’s concern to press into his shoulders again.

Logan made sure to thank Roman for paying at least three times before they even got in his car. Once they were on the road, Roman turned on his radio to the show tunes station and immediately started singing along to Seasons of Love. Logan didn’t sing along, but Roman could see him smiling and mouthing the words every now and then as he drove.

As Logan gave directions to his house, Roman discovered that they lived in the same neighborhood, Roman’s house in the center of the cul de sac that Logan’s house sat on the corner of. The lack of a car in Logan’s driveway made Roman’s brow furrow.

“Parents aren’t home yet, huh? Working late?”

“Away on business.” Logan’s answer was too simple as he gathered his bag and started for the door.

“You taking the bus in the morning?”

“No. I’m not on the list, they won’t let me on.” Roman groaned at the school’s paranoid bus system.

“I’m picking you up.”

“Roman-”

“I live right down the street. I’m picking you up. What time are you usually out the door?” Logan bit the inside of his cheek.

“Six forty-five.” Roman nodded at the time. That was usually when he’d get in his car to get to school just to avoid the traffic of buses. “Thanks again for this,” Logan held up his box of food.

“Anytime, man.” Roman smirked as Logan opened the door to leave. “Who knows, going out after rehearsal might become a tradition.” Looking back into the car before closing the door, Roman saw a smile tug at Logan’s lips. A small nod provided a silent “Good night” and Logan closed the door.

Roman watched as Logan went up his driveway to his front door, ensuring that he was inside before pulling out. Less than a minute later, he was back in his own house, greeting his mother with a kiss on the cheek and gaining a smack on the shoulder from his dad.

Roman was back in his room before he saw himself and wondered how long he’d been so flushed, how long his heart had been pounding and rolling like a marching snare.

[straight-outta-hobbiton]

On Sirius Black and the Black Family Dynamics

So, something interesting I just realized.

In Grimmauld Place, Sirius still has a bedroom. Like, canonically, he sleeps in the room that used to be his growing up. It still has his posters all over the walls and everything. On top of that, it has a letter sent from Lily in 1981.

While I recognize JKR is shit at keeping timelines, it made me think— for the placement of that letter to work, Sirius must have been either living in the house or stayed over regularly enough that it wouldn’t be unusual for him to leave things like letters from his friends lying around. 

According to Sirius, Walburga was basically an alt-right stand-in, and thanks to the portrait, we have no reason to disbelieve him. But here’s the thing— even after she blasted him off the family tapestry, she left his room alone. Yeah, there were permanent sticking charms on his posters and whatnot, but considering the implied magical ability both she and Orion Black had they probably could have gotten rid of it all anyway, turning the room into another guest room or an office or a torture chamber or whatever. But they didn’t. They left it just as it was.

This, to me, implies that they expected their son to come home, whether it be because he has nowhere else to go or because he learned his lesson and was willing to return on their terms. Since he still became Lord Black after they died, I can’t imagine they legally disowned him/wrote him out of the will, considering they were filthy rich Purebloods with appropriately-thinking family out the ass.

So, Walburga and Orion expect their elder son to come home, and he doesn’t. He moves in with the Potters, then inherits a small fortune from an uncle that basically wipes away any chances of the first scenario happening, leading to the fury and blasting of Alphard Black’s portrait off the family tapestry. Still, they don’t destroy his room. They leave it there.

Then, at some point in 1979, Regulus dies, and so does Orion. Walburga is suddenly completely alone, her husband (to whom she was happily married, according to a couple of different sites) and her perfect, albeit younger son, who did the right thing and joined the Death Eaters. She’s older, she’s sick with grief, and she’s pretty much lost everything that a proper Pureblood lady ever wants in the world.

I theorize that she and Sirius contacted each other again somehow, either Walburga writing to Sirius about the death of his brother and father or Sirius contacting her with condolences, though I think the first is probably more likely, since Regulus ‘disappeared’ rather than just straight up died. So they come back into contact again.

Sirius is a kid who was abused by his parents, at least emotionally, probably physically. You figure he probably spent most of his childhood before running away doing his best to be accepted by his parents, to be loved and understood even though he knew deep down inside that they would never accept him as he was. Still, he tried— he probably got good grades, probably tried to do things he thought might make his father proud or his mother smile in between bouts of rebellious, probably self-destructive anger. And while he’s mostly gotten over the people-pleaser thing— after all, they’ve still got Regulus, the better son, and anyway he’s got his friends and a job and a purpose beyond that sort of stuff— when he gets the news that his brother (who he loved, even if he turned out to be a no-good Death Eater) and his father (who taught him how to fly and cast his first spells but always let his mother have her way when Sirius did something wrong) are dead, he still grieves. Nobody else can understand it, really, so he goes to his mother, the only other person in the world who feels at least a little bit like he does.

His mom’s still a bitch. She’s still mean, and hates his friends and his life and his beliefs and his choices, but she’s older now, worn down by the sudden shock of losing just about everything she cherished within a single year. But she lets him in, lets him sit across the table with a cup of tea with her in silence, lets him ask about her health and if she knows how Regulus died (because even if he’s technically missing, they both know that he’s dead). Eventually, of course, the meeting goes bad, and he slams the door behind him as he goes.

But he comes back.

He starts... visiting. It’s never comfortable, their conversations always on a knife’s edge between superficial small talk and full-blown arguments. He hates that he can’t say anything about his life, about how James and Lily got married and how Remus has a new job, because it’ll just lead to insults about his Mudblood friends. He hates that she’ll just bring up shit he does that she doesn’t agree with and tell him why he’s being stupid by getting involved with Dumbledore, and he just has to sit and take it because God forbid he brings up how well Regulus’ involvement with the Dark Lord went.

She doesn’t seem to mind that he visits, though, and as time passes, she starts getting obviously weaker, physically, magically, and mentally. She starts talking to him like she did when he was a kid in between those angry outbursts, before he proved to be nothing but a bloodtraitor, shaming his good family name by running around with Dumbledore’s lot. And the little kid in Sirius— the one still  desperate for approval from his mother— eats it up, prompting him to visit more, even maybe spend a few nights in the house. It’s not perfect— more often than not, she still seems to hate him— but there’s just enough sweetness on Walburga’s part that makes Sirius think that maybe, maybe he could change her mind, maybe he could get this to work even though it definitely won’t.

She’s pleased when Harry’s born and he’s named godson, even if the brat’s only a halfblood, because an alliance with the Potters is a step in the right direction, even if they aren’t Sacred Twenty-Eight. She lets him show her pictures, and remarks how lucky his godson is to take after his father, and even on one occasion meets him, when a babysitting Sirius pops in to pick up a present for Harry he’d left at Grimmauld. But she’s still getting worse, still getting sicker and crazier and meaner despite all this.

Eventually, of course, Sirius’ visits stop, and Walburga finds out he’s in Azkaban thanks to the Prophet. She gets sicker, and weaker, and eventually dies in 1985, leaving behind only her family name and holdings and a hope that maybe someday, Sirius will be freed, and he’ll do what’s right by the family.

Sirius told Harry he never came back to Grimmauld after he ran away. I think it’s more interesting if he was lying.

[neshabeingchildish]

This Means War 04

I think this fic is gonna be a 6 parter. Something like that. I never planned on it being extremely long, if it seems like we got to this part too quickly. I apologize. If it’s not much longer, I hope that it still is enjoyed by y’all. @adorkable-blackgirl

And, this title is actually a shout out to Kandi Burress of X-Scape fame, who is a singer/songwriter and of the main cast of Real Housewives of Atlanta. She is a Taurus (like my interpretations of Charlotte) and I feel that Kandi has that fire that I want to bring to this incarnation of Char.

We See Each Other

The guys were hanging out in the Man Cave whenever Charlotte and Schwoz got back. Jasper and Henry were arguing about something, so she tried to beeline to the control panel, but Jasper caught her, "Charlotte! Tell Henry that in this life, if you're eating, your dogs should be eating too!"

"I feel like that's in any life," she said and looked confused as she connected the wire into the computer system. "But, something tells me that this has nothing to do with an actual dog and actual eating, so in clear understandable regular people talk - tell me what you guys are talking about."

"Jasper thinks that I should just give him a Joss look alike."

"This stupid subject again?" Charlotte wondered. "She's not even that cute!"

Now, everyone in the Man Cave laughed and teased her for saying this. 

"Right, with her $500 a night facial care, $1000 hairdo, and $5000 skin care routine!"

"Nothing helps! She's not cute. She's not that cute."

"Jealous much, Charlotte?" Ray asked.

"If anybody is jealous, it's her," Charlotte said smoothly. Now, Jasper literally fell to the floor laughing and Henry held himself for fear of bursting at the seams. "She's the one who invited me to Moss Manor to try to intimidate me by shooting clay pigeons!"

Now Henry stopped laughing and wondered, "What?"

"I had brunch with her. Seven different types of caviar in different brunch dishes and bottomless white wine spritzers."

"JELLY!" Jasper yelled, picking himself up from the ground. "Were all the other Joss's there? Did you see the one that thinks I'm cute?"

"They all look alike, so I don't know. But, there was also a lookalike team for me, which leads me to believe that the property may be under surveillance. I'm going to see what government institution might be checking into them and hack into their systems."

"Why?" Henry asked. "I'm starting to think that maybe you ARE jealous." He chuckled. "Char, if I become the sweet little sugar boy of an heiress, trust me you're going to be good for life."

"Don't trust him, Char! He won't even give me the Joss scraps."

"I told you dude I can't just give you a person! She has to consent!" Henry snapped.

"It’s the FBI! Got it. I'm in," Charlotte said, but shortly afterwards complained, “Ah, Man. They didn’t get approved for audio taps, so I’ll have to try to sync mine to their visual.” She rolled her eyes, speaking to herself, now, as she was in the zone and Schwoz was the only person who’d even know what she was talking about anyway.

Henry sighed and told the others, "Well… I've got a date, so I'll catch you all later. You'll see me, I guess with Double 0 Most here." He pointed a thumb at Charlotte and she rolled her eyes. Why would I be jealous? 

.

To be honest, it didn't matter if she was jealous or not, which she was sure she wasn't… it didn't matter because no matter how many times Henry and Joss went out they had to cancel or postpone the date. If she didn't have to leave shortly afterwards to handle business, then he had to leave because his "boss is calling." She was now more convinced than ever that he was part of a ring of petty thieves. What kind of junk shop owner had you on call basically 24 hours a day? 

She knew why she had to leave so frequently. She would get word about some kind of crime or some kind of event where she knew that authorities would call Captain Man in to handle. She had to figure out who he was. She had to take him down herself, both to avenge her father and to solidify her role as the new head of the Moss organization. They didn't do a lot of business in Swellview; they just lived there. The reason that the feds probably called Captain Man in was because they do live there and because business associates passed through from time to time. At any rate, she needed to find this man and make him pay for taking her father away on the most important birthdays of a girl.

Having all of these resources from his very legitimate business at her disposal, she began to put more emphasis on Swellview crimes. Soon, it wasn't enough for her just to figure out when a crime was happening and make sure that she could be there. She needed to plot a sting, if you will. She needed to be ahead of the entire scene in order for it to work. 

.

Henry sat down in front of Joss and she mused at his outfit and giggled, “You have the most extensive collection of plaid and flannels that I have ever personally witnessed. Is there a reason?”

“Comfort and affordability?” He said.

She smiled and texted something. “Sorry. I hope that you don’t mind? I’ve got some business taking place and my assistant may need feedback from me.”

“I am gooood.” He looked around, “But, where are your decoys?” he asked.

“You know? I left them behind today. I’ve been feeling pretty safe and my security detail hasn’t seen or heard anything to indicate that I’m not. Of course, I still will bring them around for face to face business deals.”

“Why is that? Who do you think wants to hurt you?” He asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and said, “I’m afraid of Captain Man.” Now, Henry laughed and she flared he nostrils, “I don’t think my fear is unfounded or comical. He put my father away, and as you full well know, I haven’t seen anything to indicate that my father deserved that. Sure, we could just take Captain Man’s word for it, but I’ve done a little bit of research on him, and he’s not even on the up and up. Did you know that police suspected him, at some point of framing a teenage girl for robbery? They couldn’t arrest him because they couldn’t find motive or proof of it. Once, not too long ago, he and Kid Danger beat no less than 40 Swellview citizens up to protect a rare cactus that they didn’t even ultimately protect! 40 injured citizens who the Swellview taxpayers had to pay their medical bills for because we pay for Captain Man! He’s been arrested for breaking Swellview laws. He’s… I don’t think that he’s the hero that people think he is and I don’t know what he did, but I know that he had nothing to take my father down on. I can only imagine was the feds fabricated afterwards.”

Henry cleared his throat and reached for her hand. She realized that she was in vengeance mode and tried to soften her eyes as she smiled. Henry’s thumb rubbed the back of her hand and he confessed, “I don’t think that Captain Man is perfect, but I believe that he does the best job that he can do and I think that if he took your father down, maybe there’s something that you don’t know about him.” She smiled tightly. That was Charlotte speaking, she was convinced of it. “Besides, the way that I heard it, Kid Danger is really the one that took your father down. I don’t even think Captain Man showed up.”

“Good point,” she said, thinking about this for the first time.

Natalie helped her with plotting of course. They staged petty crimes first. Lightweight activities with known Swellview criminals, for a few reasons. She wanted to make sure that it didn’t look like some new boss was here, like it was crime as usual on the streets of Swellview. But, she also needed to observe how the heroes handled these criminals.

She had to figure out how long it took them to get in and how long it usually took them to get out. She wanted to study their fighting style. She wanted to figure out if anyone knew any type of weakness for Captain Man. She had to evaluate everything that she could about both Captain Man and his sidekick Kid Danger. 

Kid Danger was really the one that she should be after, big ups to Henry for pointing that out to her. Of course he worked alongside and with Captain Man, worked for him, even. But, it was Kid Danger that all of her henchmen saw. He was the one who had beaten them up and freed the mystery man who Natalie and Joss figured was probably one of the agents on the assignment. Joss hadn’t seen whoever he was and Natalie hadn’t found him yet. So they were looking for both that man, Captain Man, and Kid Danger.

In between these juggling of crimes and setups, Joss was sure to have elaborate and provoking dates for Henry. She had to make up for the fact that she was always leaving. Him, on the other hand, she became suspicious about. Why was he also always leaving? Whenever she asked around about him; nobody knew him as a criminal, petty or otherwise. That made her leery. Natalie let her know that this life - she would run into a lot of people that she couldn't trust. To just keep her guards up. She wanted to trust Henry. He was cute, sweet, and a great kisser…

But he'd stolen from her before and so had his friends. What if he was planning some kind of heist on her? “I need more intel on Henry Hart and his friends. Look into everything that you can about Charlotte Page, first and foremost, Jasper Dunlap? Dunlop, maybe? Dun-something. And look into the owner of that junk shop. I don’t know his name, but he’s a shady guy. Handsome, but also weird and not very intelligent. I want to know why they’re always so busy. If they are trying to handle their own crime activities, then negotiations should be made. Perhaps Mr. Junk Man doesn’t know that there is a new boss in town. But, if they’re just some super odd people, working in a junk shop, I wouldn’t want to startle them by revealing myself for who I am.”

Natalie nodded her head and looked to the gang of Bobs, gave them a nod, to let them know that she didn’t have anything to add or ask about from Joss’s instructions. “You’re wise to do this. In my opinion, you should have researched more before you began dating him, but none of us enter this line of work knowing what we’re doing, and some of us are fine with not taking advice.”

“There’s just something weird about it! He’s a fan of Captain Man, that much is for certain. Maybe that makes me trust him less. I’ll just feel much better about it all whenever I can clarify that there’s nothing going on.”

“I can pass by the shop and set up surveillance, myself. I’ll make sure that it gets done right.”

“Thank you, Natalie. You really have been a lifesaver,” Joss said and hugged the blond woman. Natalie didn’t hug her back. This was strange. Bob never hugged her. Instead, she took a step back, nodded once to her young boss and dismissed herself.

Charlotte observed, trying to fix the audio. It moved around with Joss’s set of keys, so sometimes, she couldn’t really hear what was being said. Fortunately, she was recording, at the moment. Something told her that she might need whatever bit of information was exchanged at that meeting. She also knew that it might take her several hours to clean it up and have good audio, though. If that was what it took…”

.

Natalie was dressed like an old hippy lady, with beaded jewelry and flowy material to shield her tools. Ray was in the store with Jasper, talking about something whenever she walked in and Jasper said, “Hi! Welcome to Junk N’ Stuff, can I help you?”

“Nope,” she said and glanced around, searching for their cameras. Jasper continued talking to Ray, but Ray wasn’t paying attention, because he was watching the woman. She was very obviously sneaking around the store, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. What drew his attention was that he thought that she was cute.

“Hey, you look familiar, have we met?” Ray asked, leaving Jasper to approach her. Jasper held out his hands, offended, but not surprised that Ray was abandoning their conversation.

“Nope,” Natalie answered, trying to hide the tools that she had to altar their surveillance. Whenever she turned to look at him, though - she immediately recognized him and expected him to finally do the same. If he did, he was playing it off as well as she was. 

He squinted and shook his head, “I’m terrible with names, but I definitely remember pretty faces. I can’t put my finger on it, but my mind is saying maybe I saw you at a BBQ?”

“I’m vegan,” she said. 

He scoffed and walked off, “I’ve never been to a vegan BBQ.” Natalie looked around and made her way towards the exit. Whenever Ray turned around to ask, “Wait, I’m thinking Hawaiian BBQ, do you know Leilani? Ugh. She’s gone.” He waved a hand and went back to Jasper.

.

Henry and Joss were on her beachfront property surfing whenever Natalie tried to contact her. She sent several texts, then contacted her security detail to pull her away. As they rushed into the water, like a SWAT team, collecting her and pushing Henry back, he reflexively started fighting them. 

In his mind, something was happening, like mercenaries coming to kidnap her for ransom, now that her father wasn’t there to keep her safe. In the clamor, she noticed something, before they were able to get out of the water. Henry’s fighting style. She knew that anywhere. She had seen it at several locations and she knew, in her heart why her security team wass fishing her out of the water with him. Henry is Kid Danger. 

“Stop!” She told everyone, and they did. She took a deep breath and laughed, “Henry, where did you learn to fight like that?” She asked.

“Instincts. You know these guys?”

“It’s my rescue team. Nat must’ve been trying to reach me,” she said and went to find her phone. Henry helped up a few guys he’d knocked down and apologized for it. She checked her texts.

Man in the store! 

Agent Man is Junk Man!

Junk Man isn’t Agent!

I think Junk Man is Captain Man, which means…

She said it out loud as she read it, “Henry is Kid Danger.”