#I drew the heart in the lighting bolts by accident

[forsakenprogam]

Another Mob drawing

He angy

(A picture a took at the beginning)

(The first picture is an updated version of the drawing, the other one just looked a bit flat)

[wishesofeternity]

honestly, from all the changes they’ve made in the show, Aemond accidentally rather than purposefully killing Lucerys is the one that makes the most narrative and thematic sense.

The book is actually quite vague about what happens, which I didn’t realize until I went back and checked. Here:

"The tragedy that befell Lucerys Velaryon at Storm’s End was never planned, on this all of our sources agree."

“But Prince Aemond drew his sword and said, “Hold, Strong. First pay the debt you owe me.” Then he tore off his eye patch and flung it to the floor, to show the sapphire beneath. “You have a knife, just as you did then. Put out your eye, and I will let you leave. One will serve. I would not blind you."

“Outside the storm was raging. Thunder rolled across the castle, the rain fell in blinding sheets, and from time-to-time great bolts of blue-white lightning lit the world as bright as day. It was bad weather for flying, even for a dragon, and Arrax was struggling to stay aloft when Prince Aemond mounted Vhagar and went after him. Had the sky been calm, Prince Lucerys might have been able to outfly his pursuer, for Arrax was younger and swifter…but the day was “as black as Prince Aemond’s heart,” says Mushroom, and so it came to pass that the dragons met above Shipbreaker Bay. Watchers on the castle walls saw distant blasts of flame, and heard a shriek cut the thunder. Then the two beasts were locked together, lightning crackling around them. Vhagar was five times the size of her foe, the hardened survivor of a hundred battles. If there was a fight, it could not have lasted long.”

Basically, we know the words exchanged between the two at Storm’s End, but what actually happened in the storm of the sky is murky and unreliable. Considering this was the historic event that kick-started the war, and considering Aemond’s general temperament and future actions (lots and lots of war crimes) … it makes sense that this is the conclusion history would arrive at, that it would be warped to its most murderous extreme. But the fact is, we don’t know what actually happened. This isn’t a change which spits on established facts of the book, this is a change that fills the blanks of a murky, history-altering moment. So, whether or not you agree with it, there was room for them to experiment.

Further, despite Aemond not actually wanting to kill Lucerys in the show, he is not portrayed in a good light by any means. He wanted an eye for an eye, and he wanted to give it to his mother as a gift. He mounted Vhagar and chased him through a storm, cackling like a 90s disney villain. He was not a victim, he had agency and fully intended on harming Luke. His viciousness is emphasized, as is his rage and pain … but there is a difference between loathing someone, between wanting to hurt them as much as they’ve hurt you, and actually wanting them dead. It’s a subtle line, but it’s one which can be explored, particularly considering how young both of them still are (despite what their actors may make you think, they’re in the same age range). Aemond doesn't know true war! Of course he'd be horrified by its reality, by the complete loss of control.

And the aftermath can be so compelling. Let this be the act that finally pushes Aemond over the edge! Let him realize that he’s crossed a line … and he can keep crossing it, more and more and more, because this is war and who the hell can stop him? Does the line even matter from the sky, on the back of the mightiest creature in the world? It can be a spectacular arc, and it can fit in very well with the events of the book, humanizing a caricatural character and showing his descent into fire and blood … if it’s done right.

Basically, I could come to love this change! I think it's actually very interesting, in isolation. If it was the only the only major "accident" of the show, it would be fantastic. The problem is that, combined with all the other changes they've made, particularly with regards to Rhaenyra and Alicent, it just ends up feeling like yet another cog in the same old pattern where they refuse to let characters be legitimately terrible and unhinged and ferocious and instead woobify and victimize (and in Alicent's case, simultaneously demonize) them instead. THIS particular scenario was different, yes, but when taken together with all the other nonsensical, "oopsie" changes they've made...I'm tired

[bearsinpotatosacks]

A Ghost We'll Never Get to See

It's the day of Goose's funeral and Carole finally processes the fact that he's dead. Iceman comforts her.

Words: 3492

Takes place a few weeks after Top Gun in Texas. This has self harm mentions (digging in nails and biting tongues) and unhealthy coping mechanisms so be wary of that if you're sensitive to them.

It was a cloudless day. Blue stretched as far as the eye could see. Green leaves, rich leaves against the picturesque sky. A black car sat empty, contrasting against the bright day. But that was all outside the house, though, beyond the closed blinds and curtains.

Carole's hands shook as she tried to draw her eyeliner. She held her eyelid, stretching it while monitoring where the pencil was with her other hand. Yet every time she tried, and she had been trying for five minutes now, her hand shook too severely.

Throwing it down, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, they had been for days. She wouldn't let herself cry in front of Bradley, though, and needed to sleep, however fitful the few hours she could get were. The more obvious fact was that if she let herself cry fully, consciously, she didn't know if she could stop. 

That didn’t stop tears trying to fall. Her eyes welled up every few minutes when the realisation that this loneliness might be forever. She got cold and wore his shirts, his smell encompassing her in a world where he wasn't dead and would come home to them with that goofy smile. But she'd wake up with wet eyes and tear tracks, telling her that her defences didn't work while asleep

More tears spiked up. Her mascara was going to run if she wasn't careful. She clenched her hands on the edge of the set of drawers and took a few deep breaths.

Today was going to be hard. The hardest day of her life and the one person she needed to be there to calm her down and make it better was the entire reason why today was hard.

She wore this dress to her dad's funeral, it didn't fit the same. Her grief felt similar, but not entirely the same. Goose had been there for that, been there to tuck Bradley into bed when she couldn't, hold her when her sobs became uncontrollable, make her laugh when it seemed impossible. 

Now she'd have to do all of that herself. Well, Mav would help where he could but a life in the Navy meant he'd be away a lot. She would know, of course, she was married to his best friend.

Not anymore, she reminded herself and that cold feeling washed over her. Chills ran down her spine. Her hands couldn't clench enough to keep things at bay so she bolted upright and dug her bitten nails into her hands so hard she drew blood. 

"Carole?" Mav’s voice took her off guard, she jumped from her tense position in front of the mirror. 

She let out a shaky laugh and rolled the eyeliner pencil in her fingers, "Can't do my eyeliner."

"I can try,"

He stepped forward and turned her into the light of the drawn blinds. She couldn't bring herself to open them. The world was too bright, her heart felt too dark. Mav and Bradley were the only thing keeping it from fully succumbing to the darkness, their presence a surefire flicker of hope. 

Although, after the accident, she found herself being too cautious about both of them. Part of her wanted to beg Mav not to go in the air out of fear of losing him, losing her husband and one of her best friends in such a short period of time may be too much.

Losing Bradley now would kill her. She knew that. Even if there was no medical evidence for it, she knew her heart would break into a thousand tiny pieces if he died too. There would be too much hurt and her heart would simply give up.

The meagre hopeful section of her brain, taking up a lot less room now grief had encompassed everything, reminded her that Mav would then be entirely alone if she wasn't there, and she couldn't have that.

So maybe if she lost Bradley too, she would have to carry on with a broken heart and take each step one at a time even if they took a million years to take.

He closed her eyes and drew a thin pencil line close to her eyelashes. Her eyelids trembled much like her hands. Everything shook nowadays. Goose was her rock and he was never coming back.

Opening her eyes again, she looked at Mav directly. He was in his dress uniform and her heart panged.

"You always loved seeing Goose in uniform," he whispered. "Especially this one."

He chuckled momentarily, "I know those sneaky pictures you took at his promotion, I never knew where you put them, though."

She thought back to that day with the overcast sky as waves crashed behind them in the cliffs. Goose had tried not to smile as Bradley waved at him with all the vigour a three year old could manage. His paper aeroplane almost flew away, so he crumpled it in his grasp as Carole snapped up polaroids of Goose with his crisp uniform extenuating every part of him she loved to ogle at.

"I keep them in a private place," she then added when Mav raised an eyebrow. "For my viewing pleasure only I'll have you know."

"Your viewing pleasure, huh?"

They turned to the mirror and sighed. Their smiles fell as they truly took in their outfits and what they meant sunk in.

"Today's going to be so hard, isn't it?"

Mav just hummed, he was welling up.

"I'm just pissed off that all of us are fatherless now," she said. "Goose wanted Bradley's life to be so much better because of how not there his own father was for him, and how your father died before you could know him."

She took his hand and squeezed it, "But here we are, an orphan, a single mother whose dad died two years ago and a ghost we'll never get to see."

Mav lay his head on her bare shoulder and let out a small whine. His hand was clammy in her’s. She held on tight as if it was the only anchor stopping her from being pulled into a whirlpool. They had to do this, for themselves, and more importantly, for Bradley.

~~~

"Mommy, where are we going now?" Bradley asked, his plush goose toy clutched in his tiny hands.

He was asking a lot of questions today. Why the sky was blue, why the grass was green, how a car worked, why they were going to church, why was there a picture of daddy. The last few had almost killed her off. All her brain power was going towards not falling apart, so there was little room for answering him.

"To lower the coffin," she breathed.

"Coffin? Who's in there"

She gulped, "Your dad."

He went quiet and she suddenly wished for his incessant questions. He ran his thumb along the flattened fabric of the goose, he’d had it since he was a baby, Goose’s idea so he would remember him.

"So I won't be able to see him?"

"No," she said, her throat was closing up, tears pricking up again. "But we can visit him and talk to him anytime."

"But I want to see him," he pleaded. "What if I forget him?"

She stopped along the path. The Navy men carrying Goose's coffin with the stars and stripes flag covering it continued on. Mav’s body language made it obvious that the weight of the coffin was the easier one he had to carry. 

She reached into her jacket and pulled out a picture. It was one of the many photos she had of Goose from over the years, this one was from his graduation from the Naval Academy. 

"Take this, okay?" She handed it to him. "I know we have plenty of photos of him all over the house, and even more not around the house, but this one can be your special picture to remember him by, so if you want to see him, you look at that photo."

Bradley held it in his other hand. He stroked the creases on the photo, rubbed his dad's moustache and ran a finger over his bare top lip.

"I want a moustache," he stated.

She laughed, tears on the cusp of her words, "You'll have to wait until you're a bit older, chick."

He frowned but took her hand as she stood and caught up with the procession. The momentary lapse in her grief ended the moment she began to walk. Sunlight hit the black coffin and Bradley's words echoed around her head.

But I want to see him

What if I forget?

She wanted a hug from him, craving the comfort one of his embraces would provide. Her mind replayed when he would see her on leave and throw his arms around her like an octopus, or cuddle her at night, or lay on her chest as they relaxed. 

She wanted to hear him sing under his breath or hum as he pottered around the house. The tinkling of pianos had been ringing around her head ever since she'd been told the news. She didn't think she could look at one the same again.

She wanted to smell him, wanted the tickle of his moustache as she kissed him, wanted to hear his voice crackling over the phone. Every inch of her wanted him back. If he could crawl out of that coffin alive and well, she might start to feel a little less like she was falling, probably because she'd be crying and scorning him for letting her believe he was dead for so long.

Stopping behind the coffin, she watched Maverick, Iceman, Slider, Cougar, Merlin and Viper fold the flag over him. Mav stood close and stamped Goose's wings into the base of the coffin. He hunched over for a moment. Tears rolled down his cheeks, his eyes were screwed shut. The wind blew as the sky darkened. Yet the sun still glimmered over the graveyard in an almost ironic light. 

Ice pulled him away. His arms surrounded him as he let himself be walked over to the side. Charlie embraced him from the other side as Mav collapsed onto her shoulder in a fit of tears. His sobs were carried on the wind that tickled her face. She was almost jealous that he could grieve so openly without concern.

And suddenly everyone's eyes were on her as she took shaky steps toward his coffin. The grass crunched under her shoes, her toes were squished and painful. She could see her face in the shiny black wood and her walls crumbled down faster than she realised they would.

Her body shook as she glared at the box. All he was, his jokes, his songs, his fashion, his hair, his love for them all, all of it in a black box that would soon be six feet under.

It wasn't fair. They all loved each other so much. Goose went to church every Sunday, he prayed and cared and did his best to do good by people and this is what he got. A widow, a grieving family and a plot of ground in a morose cemetery.

She lifted Bradley into her arms. He rubbed the goose's soft beak against the coffin, caressed its curves. Tears and snot blobbed down his face, she pulled a tissue from her pocket and helped him blow his nose.

"Say goodbye, chick,"

Her hands were shaking, so were her legs and knees. There wasn't much in her stomach anyway but she was ready to vomit. The sun was too bright and there were too many people crowding around her. Too much black when the Bradshaws wore bright rainbows.

"Bye bye Daddy," he whimpered. "I miss you."

She bit her tongue until a coppery taste filled her mouth. If she weren't already holding Bradley, she'd be digging her nails into her hands again. It wasn't something she did often, but when things got overwhelming or she couldn't break down at that exact time, she'd tense her hands so much she drew blood. Goose knew that too well, he got used to rubbing alcohol on her palms after her dad died. He wasn’t here to clean up the blood now.

"I'll see you later, you silly goose," she managed to choke out. "I love you.”

“Love you, Daddy,” Bradley added.

Then they lowered the coffin. She had to put Bradley down as her body screamed to break down. This was the final chance to get close to him, physically close to him. Now they’d be separated by mountains of dirt and hardwood rather than the thin veil of death. He was gone from her now, wasn’t just on leave, he was dead and never coming back. 

Someone lay a hand on her shoulder and she jumped again. It was Mav, his eyes red and face puffy.

“Do you want me to take, Bradley?” he whispered.

She just nodded. Her throat had closed up completely with tears. If she spoke, she knew she’d break down. Her nails dug into her palms harder than she knew she could, the brief spark of pain took off the edge and let her explain to Bradley that Mav was going to take him to the wake so they could eat and remember Goose.

As she watched him walk down the path, her own feet carried her somewhere without her consciously knowing where she was going. The overcast sky and soft wind combined with her sudden realisation of her grief made everything muddy. Her eyes couldn’t focus, her head began to ache, blood crusted under her nails as she tried harder and harder not to cry. If she cried she wouldn’t stop, and that would worry Mav and Bradley, and she couldn’t have that, not when they were all hurting so badly anyway.

A shadow plunged her into a comforting darkness, and in her cloud of emotion took over as she let herself follow whatever path she was on. The first voluntary tears leaked out. Her legs gave way. An echoing, piercing sob rang in her ears and she distantly realised that was her, even if it didn’t feel like it. The world seemed to close in as the burn of tears became all she could feel.

~~~

“Ice-” Mav, holding Bradley, approached him by the parade of black cars. “Can you check on Carole for me? I’ve tried but I don’t think she’s ready to talk to me yet.”

“Sure,”

“When her dad died, she shut down like this. Goose was the only person she opened up to about anything in the beginning,” he said with a sigh. “But now he’s gone-”

His voice broke and he gently sniffed Bradley’s hair. After a few minutes he’d composed himself, as much as he could, and turned back to Iceman.

“You need to find a way to get through to her?” Iceman finished. 

He nodded, “I think she went back to the church.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at the wake.”

He took off down the path with a strong stride and stone in his stomach. Back in the changing rooms, before Mav had quit, he knew he could’ve, should’ve, said more to him but there were just no words. If he lost Slider so quickly, he wouldn’t know what to do, and Goose meant more to Mav than he would ever know.

The church was white and picturesque. A large steeple blocked out the sun, arched windows with flowers outside the open doors. He took a deep breath and gulped. No one said comforting a grieving widow was easy but it needed to be done, even if there was no cool, designated path and he could actually screw up more than he felt he did with Goose’s death, he had to help.

His feet echoed on the wooden floor. Light scattered patterns on the pews through the stained glass. Flowers still cluttered the place, Goose's picture sat next to an empty table where his coffin was, Carole had curled up into a ball underneath it.

Her shoes were thrown next to her. He didn't think she heard him over the heart wrenching sobs that filled the air. Her face was hidden in her knees, her hair dishevelled and body shaking from crying.

He approached her one step at a time, eventually reaching the wall she lent against and slid down next to her. The sobs quietened after a moment or two. She wiped her eyes but they went slick and shiny from the sheer amount of tears she'd cried.

"Did Mav send you?" She whispered after a while.

"Yes," he said. "He's worried about you."

She laughed, "The whole point of me not crying was to make sure he didn't worry."

"Well, he thinks you need someone to talk to, because Goose was the one you talked to and he doesn't know what else to do,"

She lent her head against the wall. Mascara filled tear tracks stained her red cheeks.

"I know everyone means well when they say that, 'you need to talk to someone' but what do I say?" She looked at him but didn't expect an answer. "How do I explain what it feels like to lose the love of your life, the father of your kid, your rock, in less than ten seconds in an accident that couldn't have been avoided?"

He opened and closed his mouth. It wasn't the time to talk about his guilt. Slider had been a big help with that, reminding him that there was no way for them to know what would happen, that it was no one's fault.

"And I know it’s good that no one's to blame but they said that nothing could be done, which means that there was no way that this could've been avoided and I was destined not to grow old with Goose like we deserved,"

She broke down again. He pulled her gently onto his shoulder as she gave up on trying to explain anything. 

He couldn't imagine a hurt that deep. He hadn't met anyone that meant so much to him that his world would end if they died in such a tragic way. Of course family deaths hurt, but this pain was different, perhaps worse, because you chose this person to spend the rest of your life with and they were taken away so cruelly, like you made a mistake?

"No one's expecting any of this to be easy or fair or make any sense, I think people are surprised at how calm you're being, most people expected you to flip out, no one would blame you," he said. "I think you've just got to take every day, hour, minute and second at a time until you stop counting the time and learn to accept that you lost him and this hurt is part of you now."

Now he'd said it, it didn't sound too appetising. She peeked her head up and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Gee that sounds great, accept that I'll never feel comfortable and pain free like I did before, accept a life of misery,"

"Hey, I didn't say that."

She chuckled as she wiped her eyes. He gave her his handkerchief instead.

"I know, but that's what it feels like," she lowered her voice like she was embarrassed. "And do I sound crazy if I'd rather be miserable about him, just so I have something left to hold onto?"

"I don't think that's crazy, in fact, it sounds quite reasonable considering it's not even been a month since he died."

"I don't want to hurt Bradley, or Mav, that's why I haven't been letting myself feel any of this, I don't want my grief to be their burden and I definitely don't want to be a bad mum but I feel like if I give myself an inch, I'll take a mile and I'll be inconsolable and Bradley'll be taken away because I won't be able to care for him."

He gulped again. Emotions weren't his strong suit. It was another reason why they called him Iceman.

"If you're worrying that badly about hurting Bradley and Mav like that, surely that's a sign that you won't let it happen, at least not on purpose," 

She shrugged, "I guess you're right."

"I tend to be," he joked.

"I can also tell that you're anxious as fuck about getting this right, so I'll assure you that you've done great,"

He got up with a slight groan and extended a hand. She took it and offered his handkerchief back to him.

"You keep it,"

"Thanks."

They linked arms as she put on her shoes and they exited the church. The sun was out again, one car remained, Slider lent against the door and waved at them.

"You'll get through this, okay?" He reminded her.

"I hope so,"

He hugged her from the side, "You will, I know it."

This fic was one of the first that was actually a bit hard to write because it was sad sad, not angsty fun sad, just heartbreaking sad. There were a few lines i really liked in this, though, 'a ghost we'll never get to meet', 'the coffin was the easier weight'.

I also thought that Carole digging her nails into her palms would be something only Goose ever knew about, she doesn't class it as self harm or especially unhealthy when it is. She took her dad's death bad but didn't want to hurt Bradley or her mum or brother or grandparents by showing how distraught she was so she held her emotions back until Goose noticed and helped her with it. But now Goose is gone and she slipped back into unhealthy coping mechanisms to be there for Bradley and showing just enough emotion to encourage his emotions but not too much to make people worried about her.

On a happier note, I like the idea of Iceman and Carole being friends and this being the start. So I hope that cheered you up from this sad fic, that and Bradley's toy goose. He holds it by the neck which concerns Goose a bit because he's literally choking it but he means well and still has it in Top Gun Maverick. Thanks for reading!

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit.  “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

[arctimon]

The Beta Team That Never Was - Fanfiction Corner (BH6 Edition)

So all of this Peni Parker comic talk actually got me thinking about the process of her being included in my fanfiction.

I wish I could tell you it was a long and arduous process, but...

OK, maybe some of it was hard.  But when you have a virtually endless supply of Marvel characters that you can use for possible teammates for Big Hero 6, you have to go with your gut.

We all know that the team will be Robbie, Aspen, Peni, Doreen (eventually), and Kate.  But there were six other candidates that could have been in the mix as well.

And five of them have their emblems here:

These were made before I actually knew how to make hero emblems properly.

Some of them you might recognize.  Some you may not.  But we’re going to go through them all, from left to right.

And to start...it’s really hard to draw tiny hearts.

1.) Riri Williams/Ironheart - Ironically enough, it was around the time that Hiro started chasing Sirque around the town in “Portal Enemy” that I started brainstorming her.  A teenage genius, stuck as to what to make, sees “Captain Cutie” and the chase on the news and gets brainstorming.

Thus, the Power Armor is born.

And she gets so excited that she bolts off to San Fransokyo to show her idol what she’s created.

And then, as per the Big Hero 6 Fanfiction Clause states...shenanigans ensue.

It was an interesting possibility, but the thought of Ironheart was really late into me doing the backstories of the people that I had chosen, so she was pushed aside.  I don’t personally see me revisiting her in the future, but who knows?

2.) Nadia Van Dyne/The Wasp - Back when Karmi had first been pulled out of SFIT, there was a young woman who wanted to recruit her into a special organization.  It was one that brought together the greatest female minds in their fields, and Karmi was on said recruitment list.

The organization?

Genius In action Research Labs, or G.I.R.L. for short.  And it was led by the Wasp’s daughter, Nadia Pym (later changed to Nadia Van Dyne).

Plot-wise, this was probably the person that I got the farthest with, since the story would’ve been more of a focus on Karmi than anyone else.  Also, the idea of writing someone with Bipolar Disorder (which Nadia was confirmed to have in her latest solo run) was intriguing if nothing else.

Unfortunately, it sort of dried up from there.  A lack of a central conflict, uncertainty as to how many of the other girls (Taina, Priya, Shay, and Ying) to have, and how to handle her actual powers stopped it cold.

But seriously, how do you write in the ability to shrink to microscopic size?  That’s not really a thing, even in a world as futuristic as San Fransokyo.

3.) America Chavez/Ms. America - The mere idea of a Superman-esque Latina teenager was enticing, especially because America, in her relatively short comic history, was with the Ultimates and the West Coast Avengers (meaning there was a possible Kate/Hawkeye angle).  Making start-shaped portals was the Silent Sparrow angle, and the all-around badass, headstrong attitude would be the counter to Honey Lemon’s more nurturing personality.

But being from an alternate universe (which has very recently been retconned in the comics in part because she will be appearing in the MCU and Doctor Strange 2), no real villain to play off of, and becoming possibly way too overpowered for the BH6 universe, she was scrapped.

It’s quite a shame.  I really like her in the comics that she’s in.  Perhaps there will be an opportunity for her somewhere down the line...

4.) Alison Blaire/Dazzler - A pop star with light-based powers?

Or better yet, a struggling artist with acoustikinesis?

Her power to convert sound into light was what originally drew me to her.  Something that could be made into a technological ability, unique enough to put a (pardon the pun) spotlight on it.

An actual blonde instead of whatever HL’s hair color is.

Heck, she even has a half-sister named Lois that could have been the antagonist (death tough, destruction waves, and the like).

But she quickly got lost in the fold.  Better ideas (like Kate and Doreen) got more of my brainstorming, and she was eventually given up on.

But funnily enough...

It’s almost like she’s already in the show.

(See, for the people who may be new, one of the many Marvel theories that I’ve touched upon is that High Voltage is actually this universe’s version of Dazzler.  Juniper is Alison and Barb is...well...Barbara London, Alison’s mom).

Hey, @baymaksu​ totally agrees with me kinda sort of.

5.) Cindy Moon/Silk - I knew right from the get-go that I wanted a Spider-person on the beta team.  I also knew that I didn’t want Peter.

No offense to Peter Parker.  He’s fine.  But there’s a billion other Spiders out there, and I wanted someone out of the normal vein of Peter, as well as even Miles and Gwen.

And in came Cindy.

Locked away in The Bunker because of her spider powers manifesting, she was eventually released by Peter and thus began her entrance into the main Marvel world.

Her “unique ability” is her improved Spider-Sense, which Peter has said is even better than his own.  That, plus her other powers, brought her the closest out of anyone to being a member of the Big Hero 6 Beta Team.

As we all know, however, Peni ended up getting the spot over Cindy (for the family angle with Hiro and the giant robot that she pilots).  On the other hand, Cindy would later make her debut in the stinger of the last chapter of Along Came The S.P.I.D.E.R., along with Miles, Anya, and Joey.

Unlike Riri, Nadia, America, and Alison, Cindy and the rest of Peni’s little Spider Society are going to be showing up in future stories.  And if I can get everything in order, they will be starring in their own story set in the Big Hero 6 universe.

Finally, I have no emblem for them, but the honorable mention goes to...

6.) Lunella Lafayette/Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur - Yes, there was a point in time where I was seriously considering putting a nine-year-old super genius and a giant red T-rex into my stories.

Ignoring the giant...”red flag” here, the reason why Luna never made it is the same reason why I haven’t put Rishi in anything yet.  It’s because I don’t really know what to do with supergeniuses that young.  Hiro is at least a teenager and thus has teenager-y problems to fall back on (like puberty and Karmi and all that jazz), but a nine-year-old?  That’s a little too extreme for me.

When I was nine, I was busy playing with sticks in my backyard with my brother, not solving unsolvable puzzles from Bruce Banner.

...All that, and the giant dinosaur.

But hey, at least Disney is jumping on the MG/DD train.  That’s good to see.

Crossover potential, perhaps?

P.S. - As I was finishing putting this post together, it occurred to me that I may get this possible question in the comments, so I’m going to head it off at the pass.

“You know that all of your possible superheroes are girls, right?”

First of all...sexist.

Second of all...true.

That was about 90% on accident.  The actual team (Robbie, Aspen, Peni, Doreen, and Kate) has only one guy on it (two if you count Eli, three if you count Tippy-Toe).

I don’t really have a good explanation for that.  I like all superheroes, but I think that the girl and woman superheroes need some spotlight, you know?  I could have pulled people like Namor or Miles or the male Hawkeye into the mix, but to be honest, I find the characters I chose more interesting than a lot of the guy characters I was contemplating.

Of course, nothing is stopping any of you from using those characters in your stories.  Be my guest, not that you really need my permission or anything.

But you can’t take Aspen.  Aspen is mine. (Spoiler: Aspen is not mine.)

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Coming Home - River and Luke

CW: inexperienced caretaker, vampirism, blood, implied past abuse, self-blame, police mention 

[Other thing]

River placed him on the couch as softly as possible, but could still see the shift in his breathing. They stood back, trying to give him some space and put their head back on straight.

They didn’t know what on earth they were supposed to do.

Every fiber of them screamed to called the police, but they just couldn’t. How were they supposed to explain what happened. They shook their head, trying to imagine that conversation.

“Yes officer, I was just buying my regular blood supply from a random man when I heard someone crying in the closet. So of course I broke the man’s wrist and kidnapped them. Oh yeah, and I’m a vampire.”

They sighed pushing back their dark coiled hair from their forehead. Yeah, that would go over great. The boy shivered, and they pulled themself back to the present. He needed help, but they didn’t know what to do.

In a moment blankness, they opened their laptop and frantically searched first aid steps. A few result popped up immediately, and they started to go through them.

1.       Recognize the emergency.   Does someone look like they’re in trouble?   If so, ask them, “Are you OK?”

River whined confusedly and looked back up to the figure on the couch. They opened their mouth, nothing but a little squeak coming out. He was barely conscious, bleeding, trembling and scared out of his mind. It looked like an emergency to them.

“Are you okay?” they asked, voice cracking with nerves. He didn’t respond. Their face flushed with embarrassment. Of course he couldn’t answer. They took a deep breath and looked at the next step.

2.       Call emergency services if necessary.

Their green eyes slid past that one. That needed to be the last resort.

3.       Assess the situation. How do they need help?

Slowly, River put down the laptop and ventured closer to the young man. He was pale, shallow breaths slowly puffing out of his chest. There were some cuts across his face, and even River could tell they weren’t clean. His hair was dirty and greasy, unkept around his head. His skin was dirty, too. River reached a hand out, then drew it back. He was still conscious, barely, and they didn’t want to scare him.

“I’m sorry. I, I have to touch you to see what I can do. I’m sorry – I’m sorry.”

They tried again, lifting up the ragged t-shirt he was wearing. He whimpered and tried to roll away, making River jump back.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

He didn’t respond again, and even with the small peak River could tell he needed more help. There were ginormous bruises on the crooks of both elbows, more on his chest it seemed like. Slowly as they could, the started to lift the shirt again, and this time it seemed like he was too weak to fight them.

They tried to keep their emotions locked away, but they couldn’t help but sniff. He was covered in bruises and cuts, every single rib visible to their eyes. He was still breathing very shallowly, eyes fluttered closed.

River dropped the shirt and wandered back to their computer.

4.       Administer basic first aid if necessary

They nodded. They could do that. They had a first aid kit – somewhere.

“I’ll be right back,” they said, walking backwards out of the room. They bolted to the bathroom, tearing under the sink apart. They were sure their mom had given them one when they first moved it. It was kinda old, but at least it would still have band aids and gauze and stuff like that.

Finally getting their fingers on the old blue plastic box, they stood. They looked up, still a little confused to not see their own reflection. They were still new to this; to all of this. The accident had only been about a month or two ago, and even though they knew, it was still kinda hard to accept.

A thought hit them and they almost dropped the box. They had been ordering from Arthur since the accident. They were too scared to try and hunt, they never wanted to hurt someone else. But they had. They had hurt someone else; and now he was lying on their couch. River did this to him. Not with their own fists, but they had paid someone else to do it which was just as bad.

Tears dripped down their eyes as they made their way back to the living room. They had always cried at the drop of a hat, but this one was bad. It was a horrible guilt that soured their stomach and clamped around their heart. They wanted to help, they wanted to make things better but they just didn’t know what to do.

After reading the back of the cleaning wipes, they ripped the packet open and started to clean the small cuts on his face. He reacted a bit, flinching, but not pulling away from them. They went slowly, trying to talk to him as they went. They ended up talking about their neighbor’s new dog. It was very fluffy and friendly, and River hoped it would be a nice distraction for him.

They finished up on his face and applied the bandages – little pastel ones with stars – and moved onto his neck. The sight of the IV wound stirred something in them. They assumed it was disgust. They cleaned the site best they could, blinking tears down their face as they saw the fang marks, too. When they pulled the cloth away, it was dirtied and red.

They stopped, staring at it. It was light in their hand, as light as any single use wipe could be, yet they couldn’t pull their eyes away from it. They were staring at it, entranced by it.

It wasn’t disgust they felt; it was hunger.

River screamed and dropped it, falling backwards to crawl away. No, no nonono! They didn’t, they never, no! They hid behind the armchair, trying to calm their breathing. They hadn’t been around fresh blood since they were turned, opting to buy it. They didn’t know it was going to be this strong.

The young man whimpered, drawing their attention back to him. Right, him. Shakely, the left their defensive spot and crept back over. They ignored the wipe of the floor (it was easier now that it had touched the ground).

Feeling a bit silly but also rather ingenious, they used a pair of disposable earplugs to plug their nose before continuing. It helped dull the scent so they could patch him up. He didn’t seem like he was doing any better, just covered in band aids. River whimpered and went back to their laptop.

How to help with blood loss

They scanned the results, clicking through some of the links. Water? Iron? Vitamin C? River paused. Vitamin C, orange juice. They had orange juice! They stood grabbing a plastic cup from the kitchen and filling a few inches with orange juice.

They helped the young man sit up, cupping the back of his head to help in drink. He was still conscious enough, able to drink the liquid easily.

“Hey, there you go,” River tried, brushing back his hair again. He shivered, and looked up at them for the first time. He had dark brown eyes, scared and tired. They tried to smile, but they knew their guilt was written all over their face.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

He closed his eyes and took another breath, seemingly falling asleep.

River put the cup in the sink and stood in the middle of the kitchen, unsure what to do now.

 ~

tag tag tag tag @unicornscotty @lave-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @dollophead-merlin @starnight-whump @thehopelessopus @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpzone @divia237 @whole-and-apart-and-between

[hoodoo12]

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 5/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @turtlepated @infptarius @mel-time @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe @sweetcat-666 @strange-n-unbluusual @monsterlovinghours @rainingpaint @genderless-cryptid @heresathreebee

SFW. A simple solution is suggested. Family is mentioned and summarily dismissed. Name calling.

She’d stuffed him haphazardly into her jacket pocket, but Beej didn’t complain. If Pate had slipped her mirror into her purse, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hear what she told the cops.

Listening to her talk about Lillian being her mentor (not a lie) and calling her so late because she had a bad dream that she hoped the older woman could help her with (partial lie that would be backed up by phone records), then coming over at Lillian’s request (total lie, but couldn’t be proved otherwise) to talk about things, then scaling the fire escape because the door was supposed to be unlocked and wasn’t, Beetlejuice was inordinately proud of the easy way Pate wove fact and fiction together. He was a good bad influence.

He worried a little about a question asking why she didn’t try to call Lillian again once she arrived, but it never came. The officers took her statement with little request for more. She even volunteered to show them her dream journal, allowing them to skim through it, adding weight to her words of continued nightmares.

Pate sat in the driver’s seat of her car, the door open, watching the ambulance pull away from the curb, lights flashing but no siren. She’d already given her statement to the responding police officer and was informed that she could leave. The EMS said it was probably a heart attack, but something about that explanation simply didn’t sit right with her.

Either way, there was nothing more to be done but go back home.

She’d driven home after it was all said and done and now she looked small in the blanket she’d pulled around herself on the couch. Beetlejuice wished he could be beside her, snuggled into her warmth, but he was still stuck in this goddamn mirror.

Dawn found her sitting on her living room floor, the mirror propped up on her coffee table so she and Beetlejuice could see each other, sharing a forlorn look.

They had run out of options, and Pate had no idea what sort of trick or spell or whatever Lillian had used in order to try and undo it herself. An idea had come to her that she had kept to herself, feeling certain of what Beetlejuice’s response would be. But now, with their one other avenue no longer available to them, perhaps he would surprise her.

“I was thinking, Bug,” she began tentatively. “You might not like it, but we do know someone else who might be able to get you out.”

She briefly averted her eyes and sucked in a breath, sighing out the words on the exhale.

“Your brother.”

When she sighed and ran her hands over her face, he knew her well enough to recognize the set of her jaw. She’d put some serious thought into something and was ready to share it with him. Like when she told him no to converting the bathtub to a pond for piranha or yes, she was okay with him occasionally ‘borrowing’ her underwear.

What came out of her mouth was a bomb that he was completely unprepared for.

She didn’t say his name. She didn’t have to say his name. Bile instantly rose in his throat and he imagined his dull hair shot through with red as she mentioned asking his brother for assistance.

“No! No! Absolutely not!” he shouted impotently in the soundproofing he was trapped in.

In case she couldn’t read his lips or his agitation, he tried to fog the glass so he could write it out. No dice. There was no difference in temperature between him and the glass, apparently, so no condensation. In frustrated anger, Beetlejuice spit directly on the glass and used a fingertip to make a large “NO!”. It was backwards for her, so he wrote it again with the letters facing Pate correctly, in case she couldn’t figure it out.

Growing more agitated because he truly could do nothing to stop her from going ahead with her plan, Beetlejuice ground his teeth and pulled his hair. No Rigel! No Bellatrix! No Saiph! Oh sweet god, nobody from his family! He’d rather be trapped here than owe any of them anything. He couldn’t do anything to protect Pate from in here, and there was no way Rigel or any of the others would hold true to a word of helping them out.

A thin keening whine escaped him. He didn’t know what to do to make her understand.

Beetlejuice responded precisely the way she expected he would: with abject rejection of the whole idea. Pate threw up her hands in surrender as he drew an outright denial in his own spit inside the mirror.

“Yeah, that’s about what I thought you’d say,” she admitted, leaning forward with a sigh and resting her chin on the edge of the table. “But I don’t know what else to do to get you outta there.”

Pate watched the flaming red of his hair gradually simmer down as his temper cooled, wracking her brains to figure out some alternative to demonic assistance that he was so stridently against.

She had none of Lillian’s tools, much less her expertise and experience, no idea how to go about reversing what had been done. And something about Lillian’s sudden death still nagged at the back of her mind, and she caught herself speculating that it couldn’t have been natural. But then that was ridiculous, of course it was natural. People died of heart failure all the time.

Ugh, focus! She told herself impatiently. How do I get my demon boyfriend out of this mirror? Come on, think!

With no Lillian there to explain or offer guidance, no knowledgeable supernatural assistance and Beetlejuice unable to offer any insight that didn’t involve charades, Pate sat in the silence and thought.

And then it came to her, like a bolt from the blue.

She straightened, not quite looking at Beetlejuice in the mirror, still formulating in her head to see if the logic of it worked out. As far as she could tell, it seemed like a solid strategy. Beetlejuice had first entered her life and her world when she said his name three times. Now that he was no longer in her world technically, maybe saying his name three times would bring him back to it.

“Bug, I think I have another idea,” she said, relaying the thought to him to see what he made of it.

It was comforting that she let her train of thought derail at his insistence. Beej gave a sigh of relief. He pressed his hand against his side of the glass, found it slick with spit, and wiped his palm on his trousers before putting it there again, wishing he could touch her.

Pate’s open hand was large compared to his, but it being somewhat against him made him as happy as he could be, stuck here. She was quiet in thought again, looking increasingly tired.

She jumped as if startled, her eyes wide. Beetlejuice couldn’t hear anything that may have done it, so he cocked his head in pantomime confusion.

Breathlessly, Pate told him her next idea, and waited expectantly for his thoughts on it.

"Baby . . ." he began. It was difficult to break the habit of talking to her.

The concept was intriguing. He was bound to his name, and her suggestion just might be enough, have enough power, to yank him to her side despite whatever spell Lillian had cast. A hastily concocted binding couldn’t be as tight as what tethered him to his name.

Beej shrugged with a smile, feeling suspiciously like he’d been trapped here like a puppet or a clown.

"Yes. Try it baby," he said, just to help break that bug under glass--haha, wasn't he the comedian!--feeling. He raised his voice, even though that didn't help. "I can't wait to kiss you!"

With Beetlejuice’s affirmation of the plan, Pate got to her feet and stood in the middle of the living room with the mirror held out at arm’s length. In her head, she hoped it would give him plenty of room to appear. He looked eagerly out at her from the glass, both hands pressed against the inside of the mirror. Flashing him a grin, Pate steadied herself and took a breath.

“Bheteljuz . . . Bheteljuz . . . Bheteljuz!”

Pate stood alone in her living room, holding the mirror that was now empty but for her own reflection. A thin crack had split the glass all the way across, but she wasn’t troubled by that. What was troubling was the fact that Beetlejuice had failed to reappear.

She gave him another minute, in case it took longer because he’d been stuck in the mirror, but as the minutes wore on she began to fret that something had gone wrong.

Had she performed the summoning incorrectly? She’d been very careful to pronounce his name just the way she was supposed to, she’d said it three times for sure, and he certainly wasn’t in the mirror anymore. What could have happened?

After thinking for a bit she remembered the other caveat of his name: three times to summon, three times again to banish. What if she’d banished him by accident?

Cursing to herself, Pate set down the broken mirror and quickly recited his name three more times, preparing her apology for sending him away, more than ready to feel his arms around her after this strange and upsetting day. Seconds ticked by, but still the grinning ghost did not reappear. Was he angry with her for the banishment?

Her pulse picking up at the growing sense of foreboding balling tightly in her gut, Pate took a shaky breath and said his name again. But still to no avail.

Something was wrong. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she knew it. Beetlejuice wouldn’t stay away unless something was stopping him from coming to her. Increasingly desperate, Pate called his name again, louder this time, as if maybe he just couldn’t hear her.

“Please come back,” she begged the empty air, feeling tears threaten in her burning eyes.

⁂

He gave himself a shake. Ran a hand through his hair. Straightened his tie--then wickedly thought that maybe he should appear back at her side completely nude except for the tie; he never minded a little playful tie-pulling as a precursor to some adult fun, especially from her. Pate was tired, of course, she’d had a long night. That didn’t mean he couldn’t just take care of her.

Kind of a reward for breaking him out, he reasoned. She could just lay back and let him indulge her with his mouth, then when she was sweaty and mostly spent he’d crawl up her body and slip his cock deep inside her--

The typical tingle in his fingertips that accompanied someone saying his name was sharper. It was more like pins being shoved under his nails. The mirror must have amplified the sensation.

The second repeated made the pain worse, shooting it up his arms and legs towards his torso. Beetlejuice gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He could handle this, just one more and he’d be out!

The third recitation doubled him over. No matter! He was free, he was out no more endless white mirror world to be stuck in. No wonder vampires hated them so much. Mirrors sucked.

He’d have expected Pate to say something or grab his hand. She was oddly silent.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Beetlejuice opened his eyes. He didn’t think it was the fog of pain that made nothing seem familiar. This wasn’t Pate’s apartment. This was somewhere else. This was surrounded by people who looked too excited to see him, outside a circle drawn on the floor where he stood.

He was immeasurably glad he hadn’t stripped down to his tie.

tbc . . .

[knit-wear-it]

Bloom

A/N: Happy Pride! Here’s some Crossbow Canary to celebrate 🏳️‍🌈❤️🏳️‍🌈❤️

They met at a Halloween party. Helena was half-listening to a group of fellow freshmen discussing the politics of TokTok when she noticed her— a petite, athletically-built blonde wearing a yellow hard hat and a slick of red lipstick. It was a shade too dark for her, standing out stark against her pale skin; the mark of a makeup novice. She was laughing with a small group of friends, her smile radiant. She was radiant.

Then, as if she could feel Helena staring, the blonde looked straight at her.

There was a faint flush in the apples of her cheeks as she offered a tremulous but encouraging smile, and Helena practically bolted across the room toward her.

***

Her name was Dinah.

They met again a week later, by accident, at a small martial arts studio off campus. Helena arrived just as Dinah was leaving, her face shiny and blotchy with exertion, her ashy blonde hair plaited back in a sweaty French braid. She wore black Lycra gym-gear beneath her pea coat to stave off the approaching New Jersey winter. Her coat was a vibrant cornflower blue, reminding Helena of the rich pigments Italian Renaissance painters used for Mary Magdalen's robes. Without the dark smear of lipstick, she could see the graceful curve of her prominent Cupid’s bow, giving her face a sweetness that belied the clear-eyed maturity few their age possessed.

“Oh,” Dinah stopped short on the sidewalk, her face lighting up. “Hello,” she grinned.

“Hi,” Helena grinned back at her, suddenly giddy as if she’d eaten a gallon of corn syrup. She could feel excitement fizzing in her veins, propelling her closer like a moth to the flame.

“Do you train here?” Dinah asked, re-shouldering her gym bag.

“They have a Krav Maga class I like,” Helena explained. “You?”

“Jiu Jitsu,” Dinah shrugged, smiling. “My old trainer swore by Krav Maga, but it doesn’t have the same…” she pursed her lips as she took her time to search for the word. “Grace,” she settled on.

“Grace?” Helena smirked. “Are we talking about ballet or fighting?”

Dinah laughed easily. “My first sensei would say they were the same thing.”

“Wow, how many senseis and trainers have you had?” Helena teased. She immediately regretted it when Dinah visibly tensed, her expression abruptly becoming guarded.

“I was fostered at a dojo for a little while when I was a kid,” she explained haltingly, her brown eyes darting off to the side. “And uh, then I was in a group home until I was eighteen and they… let me keep taking karate to give me some, uh, stability I guess.”

Helena’s eyes widened at this revelation, delivered so candidly in passing on the sidewalk—that she’d grown up in foster care; that she was an orphan. She could feel Dinah’s uneasiness, and it inspired a desperate need to comfort or reassure her, a wholly unfamiliar impulse.

“My dad sent me to a Swiss boarding school when I was twelve,” Helena blurted out. “After my mom died. It was kind of like a group home just with, you know, rich kids and archery. And a castle.”

As the words came tumbling out of her mouth, she knew she was being horribly rude by being so flippant about her privilege, but it seemed to lighten Dinah’s mood, her kind smile blooming again.

“Well, just because there was archery doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard to be away from everything you knew,” she said, meeting Helena’s eye meaningfully.

She understood loneliness, Helena realized. She understood the pain and anger of abandonment. Yet she didn’t carry bitterness around in the same way Helena did; bitterness that didn’t taste as bad when Dinah was standing here proving there was a way beyond it. It gave Helena hope—something she wasn’t well acquainted with after repeated tragedies.

A squat city bus puttered past behind them, catching Dinah’s eye. She glanced at Helena apologetically, a sliver of vulnerability slipping into her otherwise confident counternence.

“Maybe I’ll try Krav Maga sometime,” she offered, almost shyly.

“Maybe we could get coffee afterward,” Helena suggested, beaming.

They exchanged numbers before Dinah ran to catch the bus.

***

A week later, they kicked the shit out of each other at the studio and went for coffee. Helena had expected Dinah to pick up the Krav Maga moves quickly since she was well-versed in Karate and Jiu Jitsu. She even indulged in a stupid fantasy about helping her find the right techniques and positions, a blatant ploy to be physically closer to her.

But when they began sparing, Helena quickly realized she was wildly outmatched. Dinah did not need her help—she already knew Krav Maga even if she hadn’t quite mastered it. Then the minute Helena got the upper hand, Dinah gave up on the prescribed moves the instructor gave them, and took Helena down with a few quick karate strikes she couldn’t counter effectively.

Helena’s back hit the mat hard, knocking the wind out of her. Her eyes widening as Dinah pinned her down with a steady hand flat over her heart, the heel of her small hand grazing the top of Helena’s breast through her sports bra.

Dinah released her and sat back, looking smug.

“You cheated!” Helena laughed, accepting a hand to pull herself up to sitting.

“What’s the point of fighting if you aren’t going to win?” Dinah shot her a knowing smirk.

“What happened to grace?” Helena demanded, her eyebrows raising when Dinah faltered but quickly recovered.

“You’re right,” she agreed, her face softening like she’d come to some internal revelation. “It’s not about winning. It’s about the practice, and finding balance.”

“Alright, sensei,” Helena rolled her eyes but she couldn’t stop smiling—another unfamiliar impulse. “You can buy me a coffee to make up for cheating.”

“It’s called mixed martial arts for a reason,” Dinah insisted as they headed for the changing rooms. “I was just mixing in more martial arts”

“Yeah, yeah.”

***

For the rest of the semester they trained and went for coffee at least once a week. They would tell each other which parties they were going to, what events their friends were discussing attending. It went unsaid that they were leaving breadcrumbs for each other, a trail that would lead them back together.

Their social lives began to blend. Helena became friendly with Dinah’s carefully cultivated group of scholastic overachievers and misfits. Meanwhile, the gang of loud, kittenish gay men Helena surrounded herself with fawned over Dinah. They showed her how to do her make-up properly and cheered when she paraded around the dorm in high heels for them like a clumsy newborn colt.

“She is gorgeous,” one of Helena’s friends hissed to her.

But it never went any further than a lingering touch or look as Helena restrained herself from making the first move, but not because she feared rejection. She’d taken a gap year after boarding school, a boozy thirteen months during which she’d travelled across Southeast Asia—Vietnam, Cambodia,Thailand, Bali, Singapore—and then on to Australia. The youthful hedonism that characterized backpacking made it easy not to be shy or ashamed of her attraction to both boys and girls. But she resisted making the first move with Dinah— she wanted Dinah to come to her.

***

Helena stayed at Princeton over the holidays, just like she’d done throughout boarding school. The only place she could feasibly go was Gotham to be with her younger brother, Pino. He was seventeen, and Helena had just enough contact to suspect he was already involved in the ‘family business,’ which she tried not to think about. They mostly kept in touch via Snapchat and Instagram, a selfie and meme-based relationship that removed the painful edges of reality.

Dinah returned to Gotham for Christmas to visit another member of the orphanage she’d grown up in. She wanted to see how they were getting on without her, she said, though she wasn’t looking forward to being back in the city.

But something obviously went wrong while she was away, because once they were back at school she began determinedly avoiding Helena. She made excuses about being busy with classes and other friends needing her attention. Weeks went by and Helena started to feel crazy, like she was missing something obvious, which meant she was either blind or too stupid to be able to see what was happening.

Then out of the blue Dinah showed up at Helena’s dorm, her hair freshly cut in a cute, girlish bob that brushed the collar of her cornflower blue coat, her tawny eyes glowing determinedly.

“Helena,” she breathed, searching Helena’s face. “Will you go out with me?”

***

They went out for dinner, something Helena had never done with a girl before. She’d slept with women, but she struggled with the idea of going on a date with a woman. She was disappointed in herself, that she hadn't evolved beyond worrying about the perception of others when she knew what she wanted.

But those worries were relegated to background noise when Dinah showed up on her doorstep, wearing a candy-apple-red shade of lipstick that suited her perfectly.

“Hey,” she greeted Helena, her smile radiant. Excited.

***

After dinner, Helena walked Dinah back to her dorm. When the moment she’d been waiting months for finally arrived, Dinah tucked a loose piece of Helena’s hair behind her ear, then tentatively laid her palm across the curve of her jaw. Her eyes fell shut as she drew Helena's mouth down to hers.

Her lips were eager and curious, but clumsy. Helena paused to draw back, the thick fringe of her eyelashes brushing Dinah’s nose as she opened her eyes. Dinah’s hand was still resting on her cheek, while Helena’s hands had found Dinah’s waist. Her eyes were heavy and her lips parted, the red lipstick faded.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Helena said slowly. “But... have you ever kissed someone before?”

Dinah’s face split into a rueful grin, without a trace of shame. “I have now,” she pointed out playfully.

Helena mirrored her grin and gave Dinah’s waist a gentle tug, pulling her closer as their lips met again.

***

They went on more dates, and eventually they found their way into each other’s beds. They got to know each other’s bodies, bringing them closer in a way Helena hadn’t realized was possible. She’d only experienced sex as a blurry, rushed encounter, but with Dinah she was overwhelmed, drunk on how badly she wanted her.

Their friend groups continued to cross pollinate with the queer communities on campus, and they slowly began to build a chosen family together since neither of them had one of their own. Helena was thrilled to see Dinah slowly shed the armour she’d built to protect herself, becoming more open and accepting of her own feelings and desires. But Helena found it harder, in part because she was lying to Dinah by not telling her the full truth of her past.

Her family and their ‘business’ was a dark, shameful secret she had never told another person, and she couldn’t decide how Dinah, with her strong moral compass, would react. It was like an invisible blockade between them, one Helena knew could destroy the delicate fabric of their blossoming relationship if she didn’t resolve it.

About four months after their first official date, it became impossible to keep it inside any longer, especially because the words “I love you” were constantly threatening to spill past her lips. It was only when she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer that she found the courage.

“You can tell me anything, Helena,” Dinah insisted, holding Helena’s hands between hers. They were sitting on a blanket on the quad, the sun shining bright overhead as the first vestiges of spring bloomed around them.

Helena felt physically sick. She’d imagined every way this conversation could go, and she usually settled on Dinah being horrified once she learned the terrible, violent truth.

“It’s about…” she swallowed thickly. “My family. I haven’t been… completely honest with you. My dad. He wasn’t really a businessman. Not in the traditional sense.”

Dinah’s eyebrows raised, but she gave Helena’s hands a reassuring squeeze.

After a few false starts, Helena explained that her family wasn’t like other families. That her father and his brothers and generations of Bertinelli men before them hadn’t had… normal jobs. They were criminals. Successful, powerful criminals whose influence manipulated the very fabric of Gotham society.

Dinah listened, her expression becoming more and more guarded as Helena ploughed ahead. She could see what she was thinking. That Helena’s family was partially responsible for the corruption and crime that plagued Gotham. That the city was a shithole because of men like her father. It was all true, or at least it used to be, before the masked freaks took over and made everything worse.

She explained that a man named Mandragora tried to usurp her father when she was twelve, killing her mother, aunts and uncles, cousins and family friends in a blood feud. She was shipped off to Europe for safe keeping while her brother Pino, just 9 years old at the time, was sent to live with extended family in Central City. Ultimately her father’s associates and friends ran Mandragora out of town, but not before the damage was done. Helena remained in Switzerland, and Pino returned to Gotham, where he was raised by what extended members of the Bertinelli clan.

There was one more piece of information Helena couldn’t bring herself to share, because just thinking about what happened to her father made her blood boil—anger frequently outstripped grief when she thought about what Harley Quinn did to her Papa.

She hunted him. Tortured him. Murdered him.

But she couldn’t say the words. Mobsters were bad enough. Harley Quinn was an entirely different kind of villain, one Helena didn’t want her family — who she loved deeply despite their flaws —associated with if she could help it.

By the time she’d finished, Dinah had taken to playing with an errant daisy springing up from the grass, her attention wholly focused on the little white flower as she worked through her thoughts. When she finally looked up at Helena, she was cautious, still uncertain, but eventually her lips curved into a smile—kind, open, generous, and reassuring.

“I have to tell you something too,” she shrugged helplessly. “I love you, Helena... and you aren’t responsible for the choices your family made. You still loved them and lost them and I know how much that hurt you.”

Helena’s eyes widened, shocked that Dinah was speaking these words to Helena. For Helena.

“I—“ she faltered, searching Dinah’s face. “I love you too.” She sprung up to her knees and pitched forward, grabbing Dinah’s face with both hands and making her shriek with laughter as they fell back on the grass together. “God, I really really love you, Di.”

Dinah laughed again, her eyes closing as Helena urgently kissed her. She felt as if she’d never be able to properly express how much she felt. This was the polar opposite of the grief and anger that plagued her. This was the beginning of something beautiful and powerful and safe.

Dinah would save her from the darkness, she decided.

She was the only one who could.

***

A/N: I know you’re all here for Jarley, but in the same way I wanted you to love Ed, I’m hoping you’ll simp for this ship. I loved writing Dinah through the eyes of someone who sees the best in her since she’s been pretty limited to her own self-punishing point of view and Harley’s warped vision of the world. And it’s a relief to see Dinah begin to grow up now that she’s around people her own age she relates to… Even wearing lipstick is like an indulgent act for her that she’s finally allowing herself to take part in. Yes, Dinah! You deserve love and lipstick and self care! ❤️🎉

[caretaker-au]

Chapter 06

Chara stirred, their bleary eyes cracking open. The windowless bedroom provided no clues as to the time, so they clicked on their phone, squinting at the harsh blue light.

4:51 AM. They had only been asleep for a couple of hours.

Chara sighed and flipped the phone face down on the nightstand. They rolled over and reached towards Asriel’s side of the bed, but their hand splayed across empty sheets. Distant laughter twittered from somewhere outside the door.

They bolted up, their senses surging with adrenaline. The murmur of familiar voices could be heard down the hall, something that would be normal if not for the bizarre time of day.

Chara slipped into suitable clothes and stole to the bedroom door. They doubled back for their knife, hiding it in the waistband of their pants with their oversized shirt on top. Just in case.

The moment they stepped outside their door, Chara felt their chest tighten. On the other side of the house-- down the hall and past two entryways-- Asgore, Toriel, and Asriel were seated at the dining table. They were fully dressed and chatting softly but excitedly over tea and the leftovers of a cake Chara had baked two days ago. At the head of the table was Frisk, a small smile on their lips while they listened to Toriel and Asgore argue over the best way to make hot cocoa.

Frisk’s eye caught Chara’s movement and the child froze, their eyes widening. Toriel trailed off mid sentence, and leaned over the table to follow Frisk’s stare down the hall. Asriel and Asgore followed suit.

“Oh, Chara! I’m sorry, we didn't mean to wake you,” Asgore said with an apologetic smile.

Chara swallowed, willing themselves to approach. “What… is this.”

“You have met Frisk already, yes?” Toriel gestured to the child, oblivious to how the color had drained from their face, “When we heard a human was imprisoned here, we decided to check on them right away. Did you know they were never given supper? Captive or no, a child needs to be cared for.”

“After having a little chat, we brought them here,” Asgore continued, “And don't worry, we have things completely under control.”

Chara came to a stop just within the entryway of the living room. Their neck felt stiff as they turned their head to look at Asriel. Their voice shook, “You told them.”

“No, it was an accident--” Asriel floundered, “I didn’t mean to. After you went to bed, Mom caught me pacing out here. She-- you know how she is-- she got it out of me and woke up Dad. I wanted to bring you along too, but you were so sick before and I didn't want to disturb you.” Asriel took a breath, “And… and… I mean, we were gonna tell them soon anyway, right?”

“Frankly, I'm a little disappointed you thought you couldn't trust us.” Toriel added, “You know you can depend on us.”

Unable to meet their eyes, Chara looked down at the floor in an attempt to regain composure. “I cannot believe I didn't expect this,” they muttered, “You always fail me the first time around, Asriel.”

Frisk and Asriel shared a quick glance.

“What?” Asriel couldn’t hide the offense in his voice, “Chara, listen: I'm sorry for telling Mom and Dad so soon. But it ended up okay! Frisk explained that this was all a massive misunderstanding.”

“No. You listen.” Chara cut in, their eyes laced with intensity. They pointed at Frisk, “The human is manipulating you. I cannot stress enough the danger it poses. Is it not enough that it assaulted me upon our first meeting? Or need I remind you what one of its kind did to your arm, Asriel?”

Asriel touched his scarred arm. If anyone had a reply, no one said it out loud.

“Right,” Chara nodded, “Now step aside and I will escort the human back to its cell.” Chara began to approach the head of the table and Frisk shrunk back in their seat with a quiet, “No, please--”

“Chara, wait.” Asriel stood and held up their hand, bringing Chara to a halt. “Frisk is different. I think they are one of the good ones. Like you.”

“We are nothing alike.” Chara spat.

“I would not be so quick to say that!” Toriel jumped in, “Frisk was telling us how they came here. This child has no family, no home, but they have a good heart and deserve a second chance.” She set her large hand over the top of Frisk’s hand, and Frisk clutched it back.

“And I know we agreed that the Underground has no room for dangerous humans,” Asgore rose from his seat to stand behind Frisk’s chair, “But Frisk explained they thought you were going to… well, hurt them. I’m sure that wasn’t your intent, but that explains why you two didn’t get along. Frisk was just scared.”

“Hey, I know! Why don’t we start over from the beginning? Chara, Frisk, you two should introduce yourself to each other again,” Asriel said. Undaunted by Chara’s glare, he walked behind Chara and rested a hand on each shoulder, giving them a slight push forward.

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Toriel beamed. Frisk gave Toriel a frantic look, shaking their head. The resistance seemed to only bolster Toriel’s confidence. She stood from her chair and reached a hand out to help Frisk down, “It is all right, my child. You are safe with us.”

Frisk weighed the encouraging looks of the Dreemurrs against Chara’s glower. Tentatively, they took Toriel’s hand and climbed down from the tall chair.

Now unblocked by the table, Chara noted Frisk was no longer dressed as they were before: they wore only the leggings they had beneath their shorts and a faded green striped shirt. Chara’s old shirt from when they were thirteen.The wretched thing had managed to infiltrate the royal family in less than one night.

Frisk stepped forward with hesitant optimism and Chara closed the gap in turn.

“Hello,” Frisk began, forcing a smile, “My name is Frisk.” They raised their hand, but Chara didn’t take it. Frisk kept it suspended and closed their hand into a thumbs up. “I hope we can get along.”

Chara looked from Frisk’s hand to the delighted, traitorous smiles of Dreemurrs. The caretaker sighed, running a hand through their bedraggled hair before leveling their gaze back at Frisk.

Chara spoke in a soft voice. “Erase this.”

“Huh?” Frisk raised an eyebrow, but Chara had already changed their stance. In one decisive motion, they drew their blade from hiding, and slashed across Frisk’s throat.

Pandemonium followed the spill of blood.

Toriel shrieked, grabbing Frisk as they crumpled to the ground. Chara tossed the knife to the side moments before being charged by Asgore, who thrusted them up and against the wall. The impact was jarring, stars briefly manifesting in Chara’s vision while they tried to take in the chaotic aftermath.

Asriel was frozen in abject horror, fixated on the blood pooling on the hardwood floor. Toriel called his name three times before he broke from his trance, looking over to his mother.

“Asriel, help me!” she shrieked. Still shell-shocked, Asriel stumbled forward and dropped to his knees, lending his healing magic to the dying child.

“You are wasting your time.” Chara muttered, but their voice was drowned out by unintelligible threats from Asgore.

“Mom…” Frisk rasped, blood gurgling from the cut in their throat.

“I am here, child,” Toriel choked, “You’re going to be alright. Stay determined…” Frisk’s vision swam with delirium, and their eyes listed towards Chara. For a moment, they met the eyes of their killer. Then, they were gone.

Frisk’s soul manifested above their body, casting the room in harsh red light. But before the Dreemurrs could comprehend what they were seeing, it shattered in a flash, a breathless silence following in its wake.

“Finally,” Chara sighed. All eyes locked onto them, and Chara responded with a sly smile, “Everyone, I’ll see you earlier.”

“You killed them!” Asgore roared, slamming Chara against the wall again for emphasis, “You killed them!”

“Yes. I know.” Chara said, scowling in pain and irritation. They looked back at Frisk’s body, “I am getting pretty good at it.”

“I should tear you apart, Chara!”

“Then do so, Asgore,” Chara replied, “It does not matter. All of this will end soon.”

“Asriel!” Toriel sobbed, still trying to heal Frisk, “You need to get help!” Asriel was trembling, his breath reduced to short, tight bursts. Toriel grabbed her son by the shoulder, shaking him, “Asriel, go get help!”

“I’m sorry,” Asriel whimpered, tears running down his face, “This is all my fault.”

Toriel let go of Asriel, and turned to her husband, “Asgore! Call for help now!”

Asgore released Chara, who stumbled to the floor. They had barely regained their balance when Asgore grasped them by the arm, hauling them towards the landline phone. “What should we do with Chara?”

Toriel’s eyes were dark with grief and rage. “Get them out of my sight. That is not my Chara.”

chapter 06 // end

[ ✧ START ] [ « BACK ] [ NEXT CHAPTER » ]

[brandywine-tomatoes]

Only the Beginning - P. 2

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 11!!!

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 11!!!

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 11!!!

--

Masterlist

PART 1

PART 2

Characters: The Syndullas, Captain Howzer, Rampart, a certain Mandalorian, referenced Crosshair

Prompt/Inspo: Howzer betrays his order.

TW: referenced execution, GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS, strong language, major character death

Word count: 3077

QUICK NOTE: PART 2 Y'ALL!! I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, I REALLY WANTED TO SPEND SOME TIME ON THIS AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AS MUCH AS I DO! NO BETA, WE DIE LIKE CLONES! This starts directly after part 1

--

"Really?" Hera jumped, trying to see the unfolding situation.

"Look, we don't have much time-"

"Why would you help us?" Eleni pushed Hera back.

Howzer pushed his helmet off, tossing it on the long table that occupied the center of the converted conference room. "This wasn't what the Empire promised."

The parents looked to each other, a few mouthed words and head movements exchanged before Cham spoke.

"What's the plan?"

"These conference rooms weren't always holding cells," Howzer started. "HVAC systems were installed years ago that connects the entire building, including-"

"The mining facility!" Hera pushed through her parents. "We can steal a ship from there. They'll never expect it."

Howzer snapped his fingers. "Exactly."

"How do we know you're not just leading us into a trap?" Cham put his hands on Hera's shoulders protectively.

"My whole life I’ve been trained to protect civilians, not execute them."

That seemed to convince the skeptical parents enough. The family located the vent and helped unscrew the cover while the captain stood outside as a lookout with his helmet under an arm, tapping his foot nervously.

Should he really be doing this? There was still time to follow Rampart's orders. To be a good soldier, to correct his mistake. But he was created to fight the Empire, not serve under them. Why was he so concerned with following their orders? Why was he so eager to follow their every command? So many questions turned his mind inside out, making every small thing seem so complicated. He rubbed the side of his head to try and dull the light throbbing that started.

A knock from the inside made Howzer jump. He slid the door open a sliver to see a small Hera beckoning him inside. He assumed her parents were in the vent waiting for her.

"I'm going around, I'll see you down there," he whispered.

Hera looked uneasy. "Um, okay. Be safe."

"You too, kid."

He closed the door at her retreating form and tugged on his helmet with a deep breath. All he had to do was take the shortest route to the mining facility and hotwire a ship. Easy.

He walked the halls with his usual authority tight in his shoulders and slowing his eager pace. Many salutes, 'sir's, and 'captain's were exchanged as soldiers walked by, thankfully Howzer's helmet hid his uneasy and, frankly, terrified expression.

He descended too many staircases and walked too many lengthy hallways for him to be remotely on time for the Syndullas. He hoped, force, he hoped, they found a hiding spot and watched the troopers working instead of being apprehended by them. But a little thought nipped at his conscious. It would be better if they were caught, wouldn't it? They deserve a merciless ending for their crimes against the Empire. Weren't those my orders? Don't good soldiers follow orders?

He dwelled on them for too long, missing a salute to a couple of shinies.

"Captain?" An armoured trooper brought him back.

"Is there a problem?" He forced an annoyed anger into his words.

"No sir, no problem."

The duo kept walking, blasters in hand and voices low. Well fuck. If that had been Rampart or a commander, he would've seemed suspicious. He would've been watched closely by whoever was behind the security cameras at every corner. His hand shifted to his own blaster in its holster as he walked a little faster, a cruel reminder that he had a way out of a struggle.

Howzer eventually made it to the new mining facility without any other distractions or detours. It was oddly easy getting there, and it was oddly quiet when he stepped off the pristine floors onto packed dirt with the sky open around the crater. He darted his attention to the large cannons surrounding the area, ‘a precaution’ was Rampart’s excuse to having them.

He walked deeper into the area and drew his blaster, an eery feeling of something about to go horribly wrong setting in. The crunch of dry dirt and the smell of wet clay put him even more on edge. Why was nobody here? Workers were always here 24/7.

“Such a disappointment, captain,” Rampart’s voice sounded. Shit. He couldn’t see him no matter where he looked. He ran for cover behind a large shipping container and clicked the safety of his blaster.

“Howzer!” Hera’s small voice screeched before being muffled. The blood drained from his face and his heart spiked. They wouldn’t kill a child over such trivial matters, would they?

Across the pathway from his hiding spot, Rampart, three troopers, and the cuffed Syndulla family appeared on a watchtower-like structure. Eleni and Cham had seemed to accept their fate while Hera still struggled against the thick cuffs.

“Is this what an accident looks like?” Rampart started again. “Helping insurrectionists escape?”

“Is the kid okay?” The captain yelled.

“Excuse me?”

“Hera Syndulla.”

Rampart looked exasperated. He signalled one of the troopers to remove Hera’s gag.

“Howzer, don’t move! It’s a-”

“She’ll remain perfectly fine as long as you come out with your hands raised.”

Don’t move... what did she- this whole thing was a trap. Somehow it was a trap. He’d be killed if he followed Rampart's order and there was no promise of the Syndullas surviving. Somehow this whole thing was a trap, but he couldn’t see it. Maybe re-enforcements would burst through all the entrances and surround them. Maybe all the ships were rigged with explosives. He could take care of Rampart and his three escorts, but any others would be a gamble.

“You’re wasting my time, captain. You either come to us or we come to you.”

He was running out of time. Out of the Syndulla’s time. With the watchtower in his sights, he silently begged for forgiveness and aimed for the three troopers, three of his brothers.

He layered shot after shot as he ran under the tower, seeing at least two of the shinnies drop before he was swiftly climbing the large pegs up the pole, one hand still occupied with his blaster. That split second of seeing the bodies of his brothers he shot brought prickling tears to the corners of his eyes. He’d never be forgiven for this, he’d never forgive himself for this.

He slowed his climbing until he was directly under the hatch leading to the platform Rampart was holding the family. He heard scrambling and heavy footsteps along with a few shouts of orders. You could just kill the family now, make it look like an elaborate plan. Rampart would praise your ruthlessness, a simple thought crossed his mind, making him nauseous. What was happening to him? Is this what all his brothers were going through? Is this the fall of the Republic?

He tried to push down his thoughts and focus on the task at hand.

He took a breath and pushed the hatch open in the middle of Rampart yelling an order. He shot toward the running footsteps and took down another one of his brothers, the body slipping over the thin railing and falling straight to the ground. The tears were gathering in his eyes, slowly blurring his vision. All that was left was Rampart.

He pulled himself up through the hatch and stood before a horrific scene unfolding. Cham and Eleni were visibly freaking out while Rampart held a blaster to Hera’s temple with an arm around her throat. She tried to blink away her sobs as she shook on her feet, the cloth gag muffling her cries.

“Hold on, Admiral, think about this,” Howzer cautioned, trying to keep his blaster steady.

“No captain, you think about this,” he snapped. “I have a blaster and the girl. Think of all the ways this could go wrong.”

“Admiral, you don’t want to do this.”

“I am fully prepared to do what’s in the Empire’s best interest.” His grip tightened on the blaster.

Howzer’s heart picked up speed and his chest felt like it was caving in. He’d been on so many battlefields, seen so many of his brothers fall, but this fight would rival most in how terrified he was. He didn’t want to keep standing there, he needed to do something! Anything to stop Hera’s muffled sobs.

“Put down your blaster or she dies.” He visibly stiffened his arm around the young twi’leks throat, her hands trying to push it away.

Howzer panicked and threw his blaster over the side, immediately regretting his split-second thinking. He held his hands up in surrender.

“And I thought you clones were smart.”

The blaster whipped from Hera’s temple to Howzer, firing a sizzling red bolt that lodged in his armour and jolted him backwards, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He fell on his back, gasping and coughing while the pounding in his head grew. His torso pulsed with pain, his ribs definitely bruised.

A shot fired.

Once he gained his breath back, he expected to see Hera’s small form crumpled on the floor, but he instead saw the Syndulla’s tightly embracing their crying daughter as best they could with the cuffs and Admiral Rampart’s limp body slumped against the railing.

Whirls of beeps sounded from behind him. He turned to see Chopper floating in mid-air with his blaster clutched between two metal pincers.

“You- you-”

The droid interrupted him with un-enthusiastic beeps.

“You set it to stun? Why wouldn’t you just-”

His arm was pulled by small hands. He looked down at Hera and realized how little time they had left to escape.

Howzer quickly jumped into action. He grabbed the keys off Rampart, ungagged the family, and unlocking all their cuffs in no time. Hera wrapped her arms around his neck as soon as the cuffs dropped.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice finally clear.

He pat her back, not really knowing what else to do. “Any time, kid.”

“They’ll be sending re-enforcements soon.” Cham looked over the facility.

“There’s a ship that looks fueled and large enough to have a hyperdrive,” Howzer pointed to a ship peeking out from the rows and rows of shipping containers close by. “You go, I’ll stay back and cover your escape.”

Eleni looked appalled. “That’s not an option, they’ll kill you!”

“It gets you off this planet, there’s no room for debate-”

“It’s not an option, captain. We don’t leave our own behind,” Cham cut in from beside his wife.

Howzer’s heart warmed, but his mind stayed on course. “Every second we waste talking is-”

“Howzer,” Hera spoke up. “Please don’t leave us.”

He sighed, taking his helmet off. “Kid, I have to.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Look, you don’t understand-”

“I do understand!” She raised her voice. “You want to be a hero and I won’t let you! I don’t want you to end up like the others.”

That struck something. He was trying to be a hero, to die a heroic death in the name of the Republic like his brothers should’ve. But the Republic wasn’t around anymore. There were only citizens like them trying to find the broken pieces and glue them back together. He wouldn’t be able to do that if he sacrificed himself to a fight that wasn’t worth it. Live to fight another day.

He dragged a hand down his face and put his helmet back on. “We have to be quick.”

Chopper flung his blaster to the platform.

The family speedily made their way down the ladder and across the path with Howzer protecting their flanks, a blaster in hand, on the lookout for shining white armour. He winced with every jogging step, his bruised ribs not having any of it.

Eleni soon fell back to match Howzer’s pace.

“I want you to promise me something, Howzer,” her voice was serious.

“Anything.”

“No matter what happens to me or Cham, you have to protect Hera. Don’t give me that look, I can tell under that helmet. Our priority has always been Hera, it has never shifted from her,” she stopped in front of Howzer. “I need you to promise she’ll be safe under your care. You’ll put her before us.”

“You all are my priority, we’re getting off this planet.”

“Captain Howzer, promise me.”

He sighed heavily. He’d get them off this planet no matter what... but without Eleni asking, he’d already always put Hera first.

“I will ma’am. She’ll live a long life as long as I have something to do it.”

He could visibly see the stress lines in her face smooth out. She nodded her gratitude and went up ahead to her family.

He’d never seen such devotion; he was a little dumbstruck. He had to gather himself for a second before continuing on with his blaster raised. The promise of Hera’s long life staying in his thoughts.

The ship’s large cargo bay door swooshed open with the click of a button and they piled inside. This was too easy.

“Something’s up,” Howzer said.

Cham peered up the stairs to the cockpit where Hera darted up to start up the ship. “Agreed. There should’ve been more opposition.”

Eleni approached a little black compartment built into the wall, inspecting the area for a key or switch. As she dusted her fingers around the frame, the smallest of switches caught the pad of her index finger and whirled open. Howzer spun around, blaster raised to see Eleni inspecting a shiny WESTAR-34 blaster pistol with its twin still in the black felt-lined compartment.

Howzer sheathed his blaster and chuckled. “I’ve only heard of one man who owned Westar-34s. You know how to use them?”

She clicked off the safety and raised it to a wall, closing one eye and using her other arm to steady it. “I think I got it.”

“You’ll need it, Eleni Syndulla,” a younger voice came from outside the ship.

A teenage Mandalorian led two squads of clone troopers out from behind the shipping containers surrounding the ship. The adrenaline that finally started to settle in the captain spiked and anxiety sent him into action. Blasters on both sides were unsheathed and set to lethal.

“Now let’s not do anything stupid,” the teen coaxed both sides, mocking the escapists. “If you put down those blaster pistols, I might let little Hera live.”

The three on the ship froze and spared a glance up to the cockpit in view. She was still there, happily jumping around the pit, just excited to fly.

“Eleni, maybe we should listen to them,” Howzer raised his voice.

“Captain?”

“Eleni, maybe. We should listen. To them,” he gritted out. He tilted his head to the back of the ship, towards the rope ladder. Her eyes widened and gave a small nod.

“Cham, go get little Hera please, tell her to stop the takeoff procedures and come down here,” she raised her voice as well.

Her husband seemed to get the plan and slowly walked towards the cockpit stairs with the Mandalorian’s permission. Just as soon as he was up the stairs, they could launch a counterattack that would definitely earn a few blaster wounds, but it would distract the Imps long enough to get the ship in the air and Cham to throw down the ladder.

“Captain, have you ever done something like this,” Eleni whispered, inching closer to his side with her blaster still raised at the clones. They were still clones. They could still be helped. But leaving them alive would only leave more forces to command. They had to... they had to kill so many.

He swallowed thickly. “No ma’am.”

“Enough of that ma’am shit. I think we’re on a first-name basis now.”

“No Eleni, I’ve never done something like this, but I’ve heard these kinds of plans are a 50/50 chance of being blown to bits.”

“50/50? I’ll take it,” she chuckled.

Now.

The pair ran and jumped off the metal floor of the ship onto the dirt, firing bolts upon bolts to cover one another.

They ducked under each other's arms and evasions of bolts, laying down mostly cover fire and occasionally hitting one of his... his brothers. His soldiers that he once commanded, that looked up to him. Should he-

His hesitation paid in a bolt to his shoulder, thankfully not punching through the plastoid, but a grim reminder that if he didn’t kill them, the family he was created to protect would meet a swift end. He fired back, hitting the trooper in the chest and sending him back to hit the ground.

“The ladder’s there, go go go!” Eleni shoved him towards it, still covering both their asses. Once Howzer scaled the ladder high enough for Eleni to start, he started shooting. Eleni tapped his foot forcefully, the signal for Cham to pull them up further so they could fly to a safer area and regroup inside the ship.

He didn’t know how the shot hit the perfect mark, but he didn’t have time to think. A bolt went through the arm Eleni used to hold herself on the ropes. An ear-piercing scream ripped through her throat, free-falling for a fraction of a second before Howzer caught her other arm.

She was floating above the chaos below that was nipping at her boots, only Howzer’s strong grip on her arm pulling her back. But he was slipping. He didn’t have the right leverage.

From the way he was upside down, his feet tangled in the ropes above, it was a surprise his helmet didn’t fall to the ground sooner. As it left his head, he got a clear view of the fear and regret in Eleni’s eyes as she was the only thing he could see against the sand being whipped up from the engines. He made a promise to bring them all off-world, not 2/3 of the team. They were a team.

Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, a couple escaping in the wind and catching the light.

“Promise me.”

“Eleni, I’m not letting you go!” He yelled desperately.

“Promise me you’ll look after her!” She yelled with more force.

He let out a frustrated and terrified sob, his hands slipping. “I promise!”

“Howzer, I’m sorry!”

“Please-”

His hands slipped from her wrist and past her hands.

He screamed her name as she fell into, vanishing in the sand cloud with her arm still outstretched and another scream ripped from her throat, mixing with Chams.

--

A/N: THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG, I'M SORRY, but I hope it's up to par. I edited this thing twice, so hopefully it's readable. Someone asked to be on a tag list for this story and that got me thinking: do y'all want to be added to a tag list for my original works?? Comment/ask/reblog/message me if you want to be added to a tag list I guess??

[magics-protector]

Run

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader 

Warnings: Implied Cannibalism, Language,mentions of manipulation, Car Chase with Guns, mentions of an affair between the Reader and Will

Summary: The Reader was Hannibal’s wife. She thought she was in love with him but it was all Hannibal’s manipulation. After Hannibal’s arrest, the Reader seeks comfort in Will but it doesn’t seem that Hannibal is willing to give up his wife that easily.

Every little sound - no matter how small it was - made Y/N’s skin shiver.

She sat in the living room of her home - surrounded by her dogs - well, they were Will’s dogs but when she moved in, they became her dogs. Winston had his head on her lap, some were on her feet. 

It was 3 in the afternoon and she was waiting. Will had taken the rest of the day off to spend it with her. Not at her request however - normally, Y/N would have to remind Will that his mental health is important and that even he needs a rest. No, this time Will took time off willingly and Y/N had no idea why.

Resting her hand on Winston’s head, after thinking of Will for so long, Y/N’s mind became flooded with memories of how she met him. 

It had been three years before back when Y/N Graham was Y/N Lector. Back then, she was the wife of one of the most respectable psychiatrists, Doctor Hannibal Lector, before the truth of Hannibal’s ‘outside life’ was revealed. They met completely on accident; Y/N was on her way to drop off some papers at her husband’s office and Will was leaving a session with Hannibal. They bumped into each other and Y/N dropped her papers. That’s how they became friends but as the months went on, Y/N started to question her relationship with Hannibal and soon after, she went to Will for comfort. They had to be careful about everything they did together. That was until Hannibal was convicted of being the Chesapeake Ripper. Y/N must have cried for at least four hours and after that, was nothing but an empty shell. Her husband - soon to be ex - was a murderer and a cannibal. Her stomach was empty but still she felt the bile rise in her throat. Nothing would shake the feelings that Y/N had - knowing that she had, by technicality, eaten people for years. 

The memories made Y/N sick so she forced her mind to Will, which made her smile. Will had always been there for her - helped her through her divorce, through her emotions. It was no wonder and to no one’s surprise when they announced their engagement. 

Y/N Lector became Y/N Graham and never looked back. 

The sound of the front door opening drew Y/N from her thoughts and she smiled, as all the dogs ran for the door. Will entered the door with a wide smile; so much had happened to him and now, he has that happy ending he always deserved. His dogs. His house. And his wife. 

He looked over to Y/N and smiled, setting his bag down and walked over to her, pulling her in. 

“You seem happy.” Y/N smiled. 

Will rested his forehead against hers, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. “I am.” He leaned back, pulling back from her and grabbing her hand. Without a word, he started pulling her towards the door and out to the car. 

Y/N giggled. “Where are you taking me, Mr. Graham?” 

Will opened the passengers door, bowing slightly as he did so. “That’s for me to know and you to see, Mrs. Graham.” 

Y/N giggled and stepped into the vehicle. Will closed the door behind her and ran around to the otherside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A simple drive through the city was what Will knew Y/N needed. He knew she had been in her head the past week. The anniversary of Hannibal’s incarceration was approaching and no matter what Will did, Y/N always seemed to be haunted by her memories and the manipulation Hannibal put her under. 

Taking her hand in his, Will maintained his focus on the road. The lights of the city streets were always something Will knew would calm any of Y/N’s negative moods. He also planned a little dinner in his classroom for her - Y/N loved to visit Will’s classroom while he worked. 

The low rumbling of the music slowed raised heart rates as Will ran his thumb over Y/N’s hand. 

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” Y/N tilted her head with a smile. 

Will held back a chuckle and shook his head. “It would ruin the surprise.” 

Y/N just chuckled and shook her head. She gazed out of the window when something caught her attention and she frowned. “Hey, Will?” 

“Hm?”

“I think we’re being followed.” 

There was a black vehicle behind them, it had started tailing them when they got to the city. But, it seems two more had joined in. 

Will looked through the rearview mirror and frowned. He signalled left to see if they would follow and sure enough, they did. He looked back again, a thought rising in his head. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Y/N. “Call Jack. Tell him what’s happening. He’ll know what to do.” 

Y/N nodded, taking the phone from Will. She quickly dialed Jack’s contact. It rang out for a moment until he answered. 

“Will?” 

“Jack?” Y/N tried to keep her voice as calm as possible. “It’s Y/N. Listen closely, Will and I are being followed by three SUVs. What should we do?” 

There was silence - well except for the muffled sound of Jack giving orders - on the other line for a moment until Jack spoke again. “Alright, we’ve pinned your location and here’s what you’re gonna do. Put me on speaker.” 

Y/N did as she was asked. 

“Alright, Will, can you hear me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Take the left on Rosemund and Parker. I’ve got four cars barricade the entrance to base, you’re gonna go right in between them.” 

Just as Jack was giving orders, the heavy sound of gunfire rang out. Bullets flew from the other vehicles towards the Grahams. 

Will whipped around and back. “Shit.” 

“Will, what’s going on?” 

Will ignored Jack’s questioned to look over at Y/N. Her body was shaking like crazy as she looked over to Will with a petrified face. 

“They’re firing at us.” Will said calmly, trying to ease Y/N’s tension. 

Y/N blocked out any voice or any sound that wasn’t Will as she looked out the front windshield. She could feel Will slam his foot against the pedal and it was like time had no more meaning. What seemed like hours of gunfire and Will stressing became minutes once the FBI base and Jack’s barricade came into view. Will steered them in and Y/N watched the barricade close behind them. 

Once they were safe, Will bolted out of his door and ran to Y/N’s side. He opened her door and pulled her close, whispering words of comfort as Jack walked up. Will looked up at Jack and nodded. 

Jack nodded back. “Do you have any idea who that could have been?” Will asked. 

“Not until we question them.” Jack pointed to the barricade where six men were being led away by police. 

Y/N started to mumble something that no one could hear clearly. Will leaned down. “What was that?” 

Y/N looked at Will with blank eyes and her skin became a sickly green color. “It was him.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A man stood in the shadows watching as Will Graham comforted his wife. 

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. It rang for a moment before another man picked it up. 

“It didn’t work. In fact, I think it pulled them closer together.” 

“No, it did work.” The man on the other line said. “This was just a reminder.” 

“A reminder?” 

“To remind Y/N that she will never get away from me. She is my wife after all.” 

[crispylycoris]

Above is a drawing I did for another, currently ongoing, prompt list! This is for week one of the childhood memories 2021 prompts! I’m actually posting this one as it’s going on because I reached the character limit for the post on Instagram 😭 So I’ll go into more detail in this post under the read more!

✨✨✨✨✨

The prompt for week one was toys/games. And when I think back on some toys and games I think about my GameBoy Advance SP which I think was my first gaming system. It’s like the one in the drawing. Adorned with Pokémon stickers! 😊 I actually used mine as reference and drew the game that was in it when I grabbed it and it was Pokémon pinball: ruby and sapphire edition! And I know there’s a black boarder around the screen but I remembered it as I was finishing coloring Pokémon pinball and it was too late 😭. And I had shared games with my brother, who had his own GBA SP, but his was silver.

For the content of the picture I’ll start from the top and go counterclockwise and I’ll share my memories with the games:

✨On the top we have a little Spongebob waving. 👋[I don’t recall ever playing a GBA Spongebob game, maybe? But he’s here because I had one of those white game cards that was just videos! I think one of the videos was the bubble stand one! Because of it’s a giraffe. And I think another one may have been the one where Squidward gets into an accident or something and Spongebob and Patrick take care of him because of firmly grasp it!]

✨Then of course we have Claire from Harvest Moon: More Friends of Mineral Town. [I know it’s like now Story of Seasons, but you know, not at the time kinda thing. Anyways, my grandpa, or 公公 (gung gung) (according to google that’s how you write and spell it), got me this game as a kid and I loved it 💖 It’s a wonderful game and I love the art and stuff and caring for the cute animals, the people, the aesthetic, and almost everything about it 🥰 It’s what pulled me into the series and into farming Sims like Stardew 💕 I think I’ve played this game into the 10s of years. And I chose Grey ❤️ I’ll always treasure this game 🥰].

✨Next is a pink lightning bolt symbol ⚡️ from the evergirls game. [I don’t remember what this game was about or even know why I picked this game out. I don’t even know if I completed the game. I think there was some character customization?]

✨Then we have the girl and a dog from the Dogz GBA game. 🐕 [I only vaguely remember this game but it had cute art and I loved it. Though I think it had short gameplay 🙁 I wanted to play with my pup forever... But I think it ends after a certain amount of time? I wanna play it again. And I remember carrying the dog for a bit! And also playing the reversi mini game].

✨At the bottom is Cream the Rabbit from Sonic [I barely remember anything about the Sonic game I played. I think that it was one of my brother’s games. Like I remember her and a light blue character I think was Chao? I remember running from Dr. Eggman as he was chasing me in a flying machine and the art was nice. 😊].

✨Then we have Leaf and a Bulbasaur! 🍃 [I think that Pokémon Fire Red was the first game I had! And bulbasaur was my first ever starter 🥰 But I also remember I was playing a new file in the car and I had over-written all of my progress 💔😭. My second starter is technically charmander... And I remember battling my brother and losing a lot. But I beat one of his Pokémon with a metronome toxic once and that’s memorable between the two of us 😊 I think I still lost though lol].

✨Then we have Michelangelo (or Mikey) from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. [I think this was one of my brother’s games because I don’t recall playing much of it. I picked to draw Mikey because I recall the sewer skateboarding mini game! And I also remember that one time I got some kinda score on it and bowed and like tripped or something and hurt my lip lol].

✨To the right of Mikey we have Mega Man. [This was another one of I borrowed my brother’s game. I honestly don’t know what Mega Man game this is. Maybe Battle Network? I only really remember Roll and a cactus enemy].

✨Then we have the girl character from Mario Golf Advanced Tour. [Again a game I borrowed from my brother. And I guess the girl’s name is Ella? I just looked it up. Anyways I don’t remember progressing the story all too much. I thought it was really cute. And I drew her crying because I only remember getting bogeys lol].

✨Next to her we have a cat as a representative for Catz. [Another game borrowed from my brother. I’m sad I don’t remember much of this game, but it’s probably like Dogz where it’s short but you take care of a cat].

✨Then we have Spyro. [Probably also a game from my brother. I don’t have like any recollection of playing Spyro games at all. Like I think I played as him as he was defending something on a wooden bridge as things were getting shot at him. I don’t know. I included him anyways].

✨To his right we have my game chest which holds some of my games! I painted it myself!

✨And in the center is my red GBA SP! It’s playing Pokémon pinball (I think the Ruby level). And on it you can see that I have Cyndaquil, Chikorita, and Eevee stickers. [I loved this game so much and played it a lot but I don’t think I ever actually got to catch Jirachi 🥲].

I had other GBA games I played but might not have remembered them. Some I do vaguely remember are finding Nemo, Winnie the Pooh, SMB 3, That so Raven, Pet resort, Pokémon games, other harvest moon games, hot potato, and some kinda game that had other games like a racing one and dig dug.

Other games I played in general were like Jack and Dexter, computer games, and maybe Raymon?

✨✨✨✨✨✨

And in terms of the drawing, I’m happy with how it turned out! And I think I’m gonna do lighting like how I did with Leaf’s hair from now on! Sneaking hearts in where I can. And I have just noticed that I messed up Cream by drawing on the wrong layer 😭. But I think that the colors remained pretty much consistent from what I had on my laptop at least.

If you read all that, thank you for enjoying my art and taking a trip down memory lane with me! 💕 Have a wonderful week! 😊

[salt-warrior]

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Bonus Chapter: Okay Again

Kai’s eyes sprang open, met with a white ceiling and blinding lights. He immediately closed them, cursing Thorne for whatever prank he had pulled this time. Had he put a spotlight above Kai’s bed? For stars sake, his head was pounding. Though perhaps that wasn’t entirely due to whatever light fixture resided over Kai’s head. It felt more internal.

In times past, Thorne had put red plastic cups on Kai’s floor while he slept and, one time, had even saran wrapped him to the bed. (He was a heavy sleeper.) But this light was less funny and more painful.

“Kai?” Asked a voice beside him. He knew he recognized it, though he couldn’t understand why. It was the voice of a girl, and, as far as Kai knew, his only friends were Thorne and his father.

A spike of fear shot through him. What was a girl doing in his room?

Slowly, he peeked his eyes open again, opening just one in this girl’s direction. He saw brown hair, a pale face and the most concerned pair of eyes he had ever seen. The instant he saw her, everything flooded back to him. The three words whispered. The lightning bolt of fire. The pain. The nothingness. He had thought that he would die.

Apparently not.

“Cinder?” Kai gasped, trying to pull himself into a sitting position, but crying out as a new wave of pain hit him.

Cinder immediately rose from her seat, slightly unsteady on just one foot, placing her hands on Kai’s shoulders. She gently eased him back down against the mattress.

“Hey,” she scolded, though not unkindly. “Take it easy. You did die just a couple days ago.” She sounded as though she were trying not to cry, but her mouth was set in a firm line. Kai wanted to reach out to her— to touch her— but his entire body felt like… well, he wasn’t sure. But it definitely didn’t feel good.

"Water?" Kai asked, voice scraggly. Cinder nodded her head and grabbed a hospital cup with the largest straw known to mankind from a hospital tray. She held it up to his lips and he swallowed greedily until his mouth no longer felt like sandpaper.

“I died?” Kai asked, turning his head on the pillow as Cinder sat back down in the plastic chair. He had a strange déjà vu moment as Cinder looked down at him from the chair. Except, it had once been he who had watched carefully.

“Yes,” said Cinder, voice cracking. “When you were an idiot and told me that you loved me, my mother sent a bolt of fire down upon you. Almost your entire body is burned, though, lucky for you, it’s not all that bad. Of course there will be scaring and such, but Thorne and Cress were able to put you out pretty fast. Apparently your heart stopped due to the bolt sent directly at it.” Her nose scrunched in an almost painful way. “I don’t really understand how it worked. But within minutes, your heart went into arrest and then… then…” Cinder covered her face.

“Don’t,” Kai hushed, reaching for her despite the pain that coursed through his being. He didn’t know why he cared so much for her. He barely knew her, for crying in a bucket. But he loved her. He had scars enough to prove that love— scars that he would never denounce. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who decided to screw with the plan. I made my bed, and you know what? It’s not too shabby.”

Cinder let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob, but she drew her hands away from her face. Her expression was kind, but she looked absolutely exhausted— as if she hadn’t slept for days. It didn’t help that she still wore bandages on her own person from her little tryst with fire just a few weeks before. Boy, were they one flaming hot couple.

“Why did you do it?” Cinder asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Make my bed?”

“You know what I mean.”

Kai released a sigh. “Because– I don’t know. I guess I realized that we could all very well die that night, and I couldn’t die without you knowing that I was in love with you. The real you. The you that is haunted and ghosted and troubled. I needed to say it.”

“You could have told me that without using my name— without summoning her. You could have let Cress do it and–”

“Cinder,” Kai cut her off, feeling rather sheepish. “I couldn’t let Cress do it. Not after everything I did— everything I put you through. I just had to do it.”

Cinder averted her gaze, looking down at the scuffed toe of her shoe. There were crutches beneath her chair, cold and gray. The doctors had already fitted her for a prosthetic, but Cinder didn’t much like it— or at least, she didn’t as far as Kai knew. But it hadn’t even been a month since Cinder’s accident. There were wounds to heal and time for things to change.

“You really scared me.” Kai watched as a strand of hair fell from her ponytail and she brushed it back with a partially bandaged hand. “They said that your heart stopped and I just…” She glanced up, tears in her eyes. “It was like Ran and Peony all over again. It was all my fault.”

“But it wasn’t,” Kai said, brow furrowed. His head pounded, but he didn't want Cinder to leave him. “You didn’t ask me to help you. I inserted myself into this situation. You bear no blame.”

“But I do,” Cinder choked, pressing a hand to her cheek. Her face was flushed and her eyes red, but she somehow managed to still look like an angel. “I should never have told you about any of it. I knew the risks, and yet…”

“Look at me,” Kai said. When Cinder didn’t meet his gaze, he tilted his head to the side. “Look at me, Cinder.” She looked, though with a sadness he could hardly comprehend.

“I’m fine. My heart stopped, sure. But it’s working again. I’m alive and breathing. And I’m glad that of all the people I could wake up from death to, it’s you.” He smiled at her, and through her tears, she smiled back. “I’m sorry for what I did, but I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Cinder stood from her chair, leaning heavily on her crutches. She swiped at her cheeks, head bent low as she spoke. “I’m gonna go tell your dad and Thorne and everyone else that you’re awake. I probably should have done that first, but–” Cinder bit her lip. “Oh well.”

She walked to the door, and Kai felt panic begin to rise from within him. He couldn’t let her leave him— he didn’t want to live a second without her.

“Cinder,” Kai called out, somewhat breathless. His mind scrambled for something to say— anything that would allow her to stay for just another moment. “What did you tell my father?”

“Oh.” Cinder closed her eyes in that way people only do when they’re ridiculously embarrassed, as if looking at the world would mean to face unending mockery. She leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Well, you see, Thorne was the one who called him.” Kai immediately felt a twinge in his chest, knowing this would be anything other than good. “And, uh, he told him that we were having a bonfire and you tripped and fell in.”

“What?” Kai asked, astounded. “And he believed it?”

“Well, not really,” Cinder chuckled. “The falling into a fire stuff, yes. But the bonfire in a graveyard is something that he didn’t find particularly plausible. Then he gave Thorne a good, long look and suddenly seemed to find it somewhat easier to believe. I don't know. You'll probably get grilled on it soon enough.”

“Stars above.”

“Yeah,” Cinder muttered, her eyes nearly rolling out of her head.

And in that moment, with their shared exasperation at Thorne, everything felt okay again. They had both done things that they regretted, but they would move past it. All would be well once more. Kai felt himself relax against the pillows.

“Hey, Cinder,” Kai said.

“What?”

“I meant it, back in the graveyard. I– I–”

“I love you, too,” Cinder whispered, quiet enough that Kai wondered if he had heard her correctly. Her eyes darted up for a moment, and she shot him a shy smile. Then, without another word, she turned and hobbled out of the room, leaving Kai speechless behind her. Cinder could burn the world to nothing and he would never stop being amazed by her. He would never stop watching her with awe in his eyes and love in his heart. And that was perfectly okay with him.

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Remember Them

theichabbieclub asked:

Hi. I just found out that one of my family members passed away ( a few months after losing their only child to a train accident) Could u please do Geralt x my name (which is Zahara). I just want Geralt comforting me and telling me to breathe and stuff. Thank you 🖤

A/N: I really wanted to do this request justice, but I also wanted it to be out as soon as possible for Zahara. I hope this helps both you [Zahara] and everyone else who might be going through something so devastating. My heart goes out to all of you.

Geralt x Reader

The news came like a bolt of lightning.

Sharp and painful, searing through your veins like it was set on destroying you. When you first heard it, you stumbled, clutching your chest, wanting to scream but not knowing how. Denial, anger, sadness consumed you. The loneliness was crushing you, struggling to eat you alive and it seemed easiest to be digested. Giving up and disappearing into the darkness wouldn’t be worse than this, it just couldn’t.

And then, ever your beacon of light, Geralt was by your side, lifting you into his arms, holding you close

“They’re gone,” you sobbed. The pain was consuming and breathing felt like a chore, a distraction in your mourning.

“Zahara, look at me,” he coaxed but you couldn’t open your eyes, not to a world this cruel. “Zahara, I need you to breathe. Just one breath. Just one more.” You shook your head, you couldn’t.

How could you take a breath when they could not?

How could you live in a world that took them from you?

“I can’t,” you cried, trying to pull away and drown in your sadness, but he wouldn’t let you go, he only held tighter, pressing you against him.

“Zahara, you have listen to me. You have to live for them. They wouldn’t want you to give up. Live for them,” he pleaded, fingers running through your hair. You gasped for air, unable to bottle it up any longer and drew a shaky breath in. “There you go, and now breathe out nice and slow. Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in… Breathe out.”

Your sobbing had turned to tears and a painful ache, bursting to get out, but you were breathing.

You were living.

“Why did they have to die?” you sniffled, still gasping between each word.

“I don’t know,” he whispered and you broke into tears again. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. It’s not okay right now, and that’s okay, it shouldn’t be. You should mourn, but don’t try and stop living. They loved you before and they love you now, not even death can stop that. You have to keep living and breathing and fighting. Every breath you take isn’t just for you anymore. It’s for both of you. Every step, every sentence, every hug, every tear is a memorial. Mourning them is a gift, and later when time passes and the ache fades, remembering them will be your gift.” You pulled him tighter, soaking his shirt with the tears that still fell, and he returned the favor, a hug so tight it felt like it would eventually wring out the sadness.

“Don’t let go.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (2)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon | Prompt in Chapter 1 link

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I kinda enjoyed my weekend a bit too much that I must have overstayed by break 😅 it’s always a busy work week for me so I allowed myself to relax. I’ll try to pick up the pace from here on out though! ☺ And I can see this fic has gotten a few of y’all’s attention >;3

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, physical & psychological torture

Also in AO3

Previous: Part 1 | Next: Part 3 | Masterlist

2 of ?

THE DAY OF THE COUNTERATTACK

The operation proceeded as planned.

All of you have been preparing for this since the fall of dusk that night.

You had help in hitching a ride from the temple ruins in the jungle to Ulfin. Some rebels drove landspeeders, but only until you got to the city walls that shielded it from the wilderness. Cal caught you by the arm before you regrouped with the detonations team.

“Hey, see you later?”

You smirked, “Yeah, like always.”

Despite your recurring nightmares and anxiety, Cal aided in keeping those inhibitions at bay and encouraged you enough that everything will go as planned. It was worth pondering why his worries were transferred to you ever since you had those nightmares—but you swore to yourself that it wouldn’t happen, you will not allow it.

You and your group were equipped with live trackers—your signatures will appear as blips to the assault division’s, including Cal’s, radars. The redhead constantly stared at your signature marked with your name’s initial, it moved at a natural pace on the radar but something troubled him as they crept through the fortress like scrap rats.

“They’re close to the reactor chamber,” Cal reported to his team.

“Good, they should be going down there and sticking those claymores in a matter of minutes,”

“Come on, [Y/N]…” Cal mumbled through the grit of his teeth.

The destination was the base—the location of the main reactor chamber—and you were carrying your share of the explosives. The leader made it transparently clear of who goes where and which goes to whom. You had to navigate your way through a metal maze—and while doing so, you’re memorizing your path in which will also be your way out—until you found the enormous pillar brimming with electricity and energy.

Your eyes were filled with the light of the energy at the very base of the reactor. You could only imagine just how catastrophic the explosion will be and how far the blast radius can reach. You could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop to your stomach upon the sight of the reactor pillar.

“Don’t be intimidated, little spark! Once you paste those bad boys up, this reactor will pale in comparison to their punch!”

“It’s not that…” you mutter, supposedly to the boisterous female partisan, but you kept it to yourself as she would not comprehend what you’re sensing.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” You thought to yourself, and it’s got something to do with the plan.

The rest of the fighters approached their designated pillars, producing the explosives from their packs and then adhering them to the metal surface. Meanwhile, the adult rebel noticed you hesitating.

“Well, come on, kid, we don’t have all day!” the older lady coaxed.

Eventually, you took your own claymore and attached it on the pillar’s base. You set off the timer for 30 minutes, enough for everyone to get out of the chamber safely and regroup with the ones in the surface. In the middle of your configuration, the weird feeling you detected became stronger—only you had their senses spiked. Your abrupt turn caught the woman’s attention, she shot you a quizzical look, your eyes surveyed the entire reactor chamber… until you spotted a shadow perched on the beam above her head.

“Kid, are you okay?”

“LOOK OUT!!” you screeched but it was too late.

The shadow had made its presence known—the watcher descended from the high beam with ease and drove his crimson saber straight into your companion’s spine, killing her instantly.

“NO!!!”

All of your other companions were on high alert as soon as they heard your first cry. They set their blasters to kill, all barrels pointing at the enemy fully clad in jet black armor. Without a doubt, this was an Inquisitor—everything about him was a dead giveaway from the helmet down to the saber. You brandished your own while the rebels surrounded the Inquisitor, inept to comprehend the sheer power of one individual.

“Well, hello,” the Inquisitor cooed in a singsong manner, tilting his head as he spoke. It appeared that he had his eye on you, for you were the only one standing out amongst these rebels.

“You’ll pay for what you did!” you growled.

“Oh, this?” he nudged the body with his boot. “Sorry, but we all have our accidents once in a while, eh?”

You found his remark revolting. Not once, not even in a single inch, did you remove your eyes from him. From what you can tell, you sensed that he is elusive—he’s made a good example of that before he made your fellow rebel a landing cushion for himself and the other end of his lightsaber.

“You’re quite young for a Jedi, a youngling during the Purge no doubt,”

“What do you know about me?”

A throaty chuckle was your reply; he positioned himself in a stance, as well as his saber, in the offensive.

“Perhaps, you could show me,” invited the Inquisitor.

It was he who made the first move. He cut through the wind like a dart, swift and sure, until you broke his lunge with a block. You prepared yourself for impact, but you didn’t expect it to be this heavy! You’ve found yourself caught in a frenzied dance of blades, waving and swinging your saber at the Inquisitor who’s keenly refusing you a chance of a jab at all.

This new enemy in the lines, the shadowy Second Brother, was a blade in the dark.

You’ve got to hand it to him—he is very stealthy and acrobatic, he almost makes it impossible to catch up to him. Not even the sharpshooter of your team can land a mark, let alone graze his armor, as the Second Brother leaps from one parapet to a platform and so on.

Spinning in place as you followed his movements was an old tactic to tire you down, that much you’re certain, and he was impressed that you read through his plan. He didn’t linger from his high ground too long; for someone of a heavy stock, he appeared and moved as light as a feather while he’s perched on the safety banister of the platform. Holding out his dual-edged saber in one hand, he tucked his knees and sprang off from his perch, darting through the wind again towards you.

You prepared yourself again for another heavy landing. Little by little, you determine his attack pattern: he prefers confusing his enemies visually by leaping from one surface to another—like a Kowakian monkey-lizard—and when he’s in an optimum position, he’ll buckle for a heavy, dart-like attack as he bolts through the air, propelled by the take-off caused by the balls of his feet.

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” his voice rung muffled through his helmet as he strains his weight against yours, making you some sort of anchor.

Compared to him, you’re half his size and strength, but you didn’t let that intimidate you. You destroyed his stance by kicking him in the knee, straightening his leg from its tucked position, and follow it up with another foot to the stomach. The pain was tolerable, nonetheless, he wordlessly commended your courage and boldness.

“A thorny one, too!” he cackled.

You turned to the rebels.

This fight was obviously a trap for you and the rebels to lose time. Despite the compromise, you urged everyone that the plan must pull through.

“Switch on the timers now!” you ordered for everyone as you held fast against the Inquisitor.

As soon as you gave the order, one of the rebels sprinted towards his reactor, stretched out a hand as he ran so his fingers could at least touch the button…

Until the Inquisitor extended his arm, aimed at the scampering rebel, and essentially seized the man’s capability to move—leaving his fingertip just a mere inch away from the button to start the countdown.

“Ah-ah-ah!” the Inquisitor chirped in a mocking, singsong tune. “You wouldn’t wanna ruin the fun, now would you?”

Using the Force, you break off his connection with the man and drew his attention to you. Apparently so, ruining his own sick definition of fun is something one must not do—not even a Jedi.

You fixated your eyes on him, you watch him slowly crane his head from the rebel to you—obviously vexed by your interruption—and so he lowered his arm, subsequently releasing the rebel. His throaty growl prevailed the low-pitched machine hum of the reactors.

Bemused at you, he snarls, “Thorny one, indeed.”

“Careful not to prick yourself then!”

The Second Brother liked your snark. The two of you resumed the whirlwind of blades as the rebels took advantage of the preoccupied Inquisitor and made a run for the explosives already glued to the pillars.

“[Y/N], COME ON!” another rebel vigorously swung his arm in the air, repeating a beckoning gesture at you as he let the rest of the partisans scale the ladders and make their escape.

“JUST GO, I’LL FOLLOW!!” you cry while struggling in the block against the Second Brother.

“Are you sure about that!?” he shifts more of his weight against you, in an attempt to make you fumble and finally give him a window to attack.

The rebels make their way out of the reactor chamber with less than thirty minutes ticking behind them. Engaging the Second Brother has cost you ten minutes already. A shortcut was made, courtesy of the bombardment caused by the skirmish on the ground. They pass through the obliterated hallway with a hole in the wall, a few Stormtroopers’ bodies strewn across the floor, and a row of busted turrets.

Back on the ground, Cal is the singular crutch that gave the rebels the advantage they so desperately want and need. This is a large playing field, and so he had the equal amount of room to practice, experiment, enhance, or improve. Cal was confident as he deals more hits in the vanguard along with the rest of the rebels in the front; eventually, he had to fall back from the bulk of the action as he felt something wrong.

“Bee-boop?”

“I’m not hurt, BD… I sensed something… quite bad,” Cal panted, clutching his chest as he struggled to calm his breathing.

He shook it off and fished out his compact radar from his pocket. His eyes followed a cluster of red blips moving in the same direction—which is south in his perspective—though, he spotted your blip which remained in the reactor chamber. He stared at the red dot, your red dot, pondering why it has remained in the same location or only moving in what ought to be just paces in real life. He clenched his teeth hard enough for this molars to grind against each other. He puts away the radar and returns to battle.

Where are you, [Y/N]? What are you still doing there?! He thought to himself as he cuts down the trio of Stormtroopers aiming at him.

Meanwhile, you’re still busy with the Second Brother; there seems to be no end to his energy—still acrobatic and swift as the first time he made himself known. Another clash and long intertwine of your blades, he finally saw through you—in your eyes, lit by the contradicting colors of your weapons—and discovered the determination slowly transmogrifying into desperation.

“Ahh,” he purred, and then chuckled. “Now I see what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“You know nothing, you treacherous oaf! Nor will you ever!”

“There it is!” he voluntarily withdrew from the clash of blades, evading your overhead strike, and gestures with his arms thrown open to the sides as if he had an epiphany.

He pointed the end of his saber to you.

“There’s that darkness, you’ve buried it so deep within you… but now it has emerged,” he tauned.

“Keep quiet!”

Out of frustration, you charged and lunged at him. A reckless move in the heat of the moment.

The Inquisitor had no problem whatsoever in deflecting you; he’s confident that he has attained the upper hand of this duel—now that he’s spotted a weakness in you that you’ve unintentionally let out.

This collision of blades was the most intense than the ones that came before it. You could almost see his sinister grin through the plate of his mask as your sabers—a dramatic contrast of color and of virtue—illuminate your faces.

“Let me…” he hissed and slowly brought his one hand from his hilt to your forehead. “Shine a light in that darkness.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Paper Man.”

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED:  GORE, VIOLENCE, MORAL AMBIGUITY 

Ok guys, I am giving this a rated R for violence specifically. I wanted to play around with some extreme moral issues, and I ended up doing just that. So if you didn’t read the horror chapter, then I suggest very much not reading this one.

It is the third and last installment to my little prison series, so you can imagine what might be in here. I leave it up to you to decide if you can handle it or not. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. :) 

I designed this specifically to expose Adam’s character to an extreme situation hes probably not emotionally equipped for. 

Commander Vir wiped a smear of excess inc from the man’s skin and sat back to view his handiwork. He had to admit that he was definitely getting better now that he had figured out how to use the damned machine. Not to mention that he spent most of his free time drawing for fear that he was going to screw up and get his ass kicked. 

In all honesty, he could have been a pretty talented artist if he had ever bothered to practice, but he hadn’t drawn, conventionally, since he was in middle school and, as a result, his drawing had suffered . However, now that he was in prison, he had a surprising amount of free time to work on extracurricular skills. If he wasn’t pumping iron with the others, he was working on a new tattoo design or applying the inc. 

While it sucked pretty hard core to be here, he had found a relatively safe middle ground. Being able to do inc gave him certain privileges among the other humans, not to mention his personal connection to krill, who was invaluable as the crew’s medic. Having worked at the biggest trauma center in the galaxy, the kind of wounds they generally received was a cakewalk to the little alien.

The problem…..well, that was the Drev, and the fact that every human and their dog had, at one point, boasted to the larger, scarier aliens about having a member of operation steel-eye in their ranks. They did pretty much everything but directly mention his name, but they may as well have been dancing a naked jig around him with signs directed at his chest saying “Here I am come shank me.” 

He wasn’t sure how well the goading would work with Drev. He had learned from Sunny, that a good Drev considered war to be impersonal, and those who beat you in battle were supposed to be treated with respect, but this was also coming from the Drev whose mother had gone off the deep end and plotted to destroy humanity, so he had a feeling he couldn’t rely on Drev honor to keep him from getting eviscerated. 

He cleaned his tools off in the best way he knew how and allowed the man to finally take a look. He held his breath.

The man examined the tattoo for a very long moment, and for this horrible second, Adam feared he was about to be pounded into the concrete, “Good work Steel!” Instead, he got a heavy slap on the back, which probably would have slammed him into the pavement anyway for his trouble, but it simply sent him into a stagger, and the other man walked away flexing his arm. Adam grimaced. He wasn’t entirely sure had to do proper, post-art care was going to work down here, and just had to hope that the man wouldn’t end up with some sort of nasty infection. 

His hopes were not particularly high.

At least Krill would be there to clean up the aftermath.

The rest of the humans were outside again today, but technically, all the facilities were open, still he preferred to go back upstairs to his cell for some privacy. He tucked the little case of tools into his single pocket and made his way into the building and towards the stairs. The Drev had taken the TV today and was watching some horrible remake of a classic 2000 movie. There were a lot of explosions and 0 practical effects. 

Seemed like a drev thing to do, and he tried to remain unseen as he moved up the stairs and towards his cell. He made it there safely enough, got some privacy and, stupidly, stepped out just in time to meet a group of drev walking down the catwalk.

He froze just outside his room  staring at them. They paused to look at him. No one moved for the longest time. Multiple arms flexed, and the large female at the front dropped her head aggressively over her throat. It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant, and before he knew it, his heart was hammering in his throat, his vision had tunneled, and his feet hammered against the catwalk as he bolted for the stairs.

A drev war cry rose behind him, and feet thundered against metal sending terrible vibrations up through his shins and knees. He made it to the stairs and nearly tripped. He caught himself with one hand watching as a life a paralysis flashed before his eyes. The thundering behind him grew stronger, so in a moment of panic, he flung himself over the side of the railing and dropped to the ground almost fifteen feet below. He took the entire impact through the inferior metal of his prosthetic leg collapsing onto the concrete with a sharp thud. Pain blossomed from that same same hip rocketing up his side and into his chest. 

Something in the prosthetic snapped and splintered, but he didn’t have time to think about that, dragging himself to his feet and limping pst the tables, shoving other prisoners aside, and ducking past confused drev now being galvanized into action by the war cries of their leaders. 

“RUN STEEL, RUN!” There was a thunderous roar, and a wave of humans came crashing into the tables stopping the Drev in their tracks as they tried to follow after Adam.

One prisoner wrenched a chair form the floor and clobbered a Drev in the head with it. Lights and sirens exploded around them as the guards came pouring onto the catwalks screaming for everyone to get down. The riot continued behind him as he scrambled on his busted prosthetic. He looked over his shoulder just in time to duck under the angry swing of an approaching Drev. 

He hit the floor on hands and toes for a moment scrambling under a table before racing forward into one of the auxiliary hallways. A table collapsed behind him as the Drev leaped atop it. Cells flashed by him and footsteps gained.

More lights flashed, and the cell doors began to close slowly.

Footsteps were gaining, and were almost upon him as a hand shot out form one of the cells and bodily dragged him through the door, just as it was shutting. He collapsed to the concrete floor just as the Drev slammed into the bars reaching through for him with all four limbs, which it immediately regretted as a metal pipe was rammed into it’s outstretched hands. It cursed in it’s guttural language and drew back angrily.

Adam looked up to find a man standing just to his side. He was an unassuming thin man with little circular glasses, and a slightly soft physique, but he was grinning and stuck out his tongue out at the Drev who then stepped back growling and walked away knowing that he could not make it through the bars. The man dropped the pipe on the bed and turned to look at Adam.

“Close call there, Commander.”

Adam blinked in confusion and shock, “You, you know who I am?”

The man smiled, “Know who you are, I’d have to be living under a rock not to know. I have been following your career for a very long time. A big fan actually.” He held out a hand and hauled Adam to his feet, “Surprised the other's haven't figured it out yet, your disappearance has been all over the news.”

Adam limped over to the bed and sat down pulling up his pant leg to examine the damaged prosthetic. The plastic casing had been completely cracked up one side, and a few of the shock-absorbent springs had been popped from their sockets. The inside of the casing rattled. He frowned.

“I…. thanks for saving my life.”

The man just grinned, “happy to help an intergalactic hero.”

Adam awkwardly waved a hand, but inside he was more than relieved to have found someone who actually believed him. The man seemed pretty trustworthy compared to the others, and he wondered what kind of crime the man could have commuted to get himself into this sort of mess. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to be involved in overtly violent crime. Perhaps he was here on accident, just like Adam himself.

“I had actually been meaning to approach you earlier, but you got snagged up by the guys in the yard so fast, I didn’t really have the time.”

“And you weren't?” he wondered 

The man shook his head, “No, I was a late night transfer. No one was here when I showed up, so I was able to fly under the radar. I don’t leave my cell all that much accept for meals, and they generally tend to ignore me.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is, but it is also nice to have a little company every now and again. And the company of someone like you is even better. Someone who isn’t actually a violent criminal.”

“Than what are you here for if not violent crime.”

The man waved a hand, “Just something stupid. More of a misunderstanding really. Personally I think it was no big deal, but it really bothered some important people,and I ended up here. I Think they hope that I am going to rot here and be forgotten, but I don’t plan on that happening. I plan on serving my time, getting out and going back to my old life as it was.” 

“That sounds nice, I would give pretty much anything to be back to my ship.” he sighed and leaned back against the concrete wall, “if I am being honest, It is nice to be around someone who isn’t totally nuts.”

“Personally, I think we should make this a habit.”

“Alright, I can agree to that…. What’s your name by the way?”

“Ted, Ted Gacey.” The two men shook hands, a pleasure to meet you.

-

The days turned into weeks and the weeks were dangerously close to turning into months. He had narrowly dodged a few more conflicts with the Drev, and the Boss had taken to sending him around with bodyguards as a show of force. That made slipping away to have privacy kind of difficult, but he had managed it meeting with his new friend on occasion to play cards in the other man’s single-bed cramped cell. It seemed as if the two of them had a lot in common, or at least enough. They had the same idea with current intergalactic politics, they had some of the same hobbies, and tended to agree with each other on more social issues. 

It was a nice breath of fresh air.

Adam had even introduced krill to his new friend. Krill had been wary of the man from the beginning, but to be fair he was wary of pretty much everyone, and the Commander could hardly blame him. This was a prison after all, and most of the people who were here, were here for a reason, reasons they tended to make plainly obvious through their actions.

Despite being safeguarded from the Drev by other humans, he still wasn’t safe. On more than one occasion he had narrowly dodged some sort of altercation with one of the humans in the party. Generally it was over the asking price of a tattoo, which was based on yard currency in cigarettes and pills. Generally he ended up just handing them over to avoid an altercation. The issue with that is it meant some people knew they could squeeze him for his cash, and often came back to do so. He didn’t want to tell the boss for fear of being labeled a snitch, which was a pretty big insult in the yard, so he made sure to keep his earnings off his person at all times, and often lied to the guys when they came looking telling them that he had lost his currency to another guy with the same idea. 

He wasnt looking forward to the day when the lying would catch up with him, but so was his current life. Of course there was also the occasional issue regarding his issue in holding his tongue, and he had ended up accidentally insulting someone on more than one occasion. He had been punched at least twice in the intervening months, but he supposed it could have been worse. He hadn’t broken his nose and both eye sockets were still in tact, so it could have been worse.

His third Issue came from Krill himself. While the little alien was mostly to fearful to do anything other than what he was ordered to do, he had an unfortunate sarcastic streak, which got him into trouble on occasion. Adam was forced to either talk the guys down, or turn the wrath away from his friend often resulting in a drop in pay, some sort of bargain or taking a hit. He was getting pretty sick and tired of it.

If he was being totally honest with himself, he had a relatively low pain threshold. He didn’t like getting kicked around. He wanted out of this place so badly, but the longer the days dragged on, the less hope he had. It was only a matter of time until something truly horrible happened, and there would be no way for him to stop it. How much was he willing to deal with? 

-

He woke up as the hand clamped over his mouth. His eyes shot open, but his scream was muffled as the heavy, slick palm pressed into his face. He trashed against hands that held him down, but they were too strong. In groggy horror and fear he realized this was it, this was the end. 

The event he had been waiting for.

The hand tightened, “Stop struggling, and shut up for a minute.” The voice hissed.

He grew very still breathing heavy, ragged breaths through his nose heart hammering eyes prickling with moisture brought on by total fear.

“It’s just me Steel, the boss. Now, I am going to remove my hand, and you are going to be silent.” A hint of relief, and he nodded his head as the hand was removed. He took a clear cleansing air of the musty cell and sat up.

The boss knelt next to his bed with krill hovering nervously behind him.

He rubbed his eyes, “What’s going on?” Adam asked groggily 

The man held a finger to his lips “The boys and I just got word of someone on this block that has a less than stellar record.” Adam didn’t bother to point out the irony as the man continued, “This will be your chance to prove your loyalty to the yard kid. In the morning, we are going to fuck this son of a bitch up.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head nervously, “What…. What did he do.”

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself.” the man whispered, passing over a tiny screen showing the man’s incarceration records. As he read, Adam’s stomach twisted and hisirst reaction was one of visceral anger and an incomprehensible burning hatred. He tried to choke it back disgusted with his own feelings, but they kept coming back…. Images of his fists bloody with someone else’s blood.

The Boss chuckled darkly, “Thought you might have that reaction. You know how I feel about people who hurt kids.”

Adam wiped his mouth feeling nauseous pushing the screen back towards the boss 

“So when you say, fuck him up.”

“I mean, we’re gonna kill him.”

Adam was suddenly struck with the most uncomfortable sensation in his entire life, a horrible sinking twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach negated and confused by the ravenous anger and glee that he felt at the idea. The feeling was horrible wrenching him in two different directions. One spoke with the voice of his mother and urged him to take the high road. It wasn’t his job to take care of these sort of problems, it was never okay to hurt people that is what the law was for, but another part of him disagreed. This was a lawless planet, and the law was broken besides it didn’t matter after reading that report he knew for certain that the an deserved worse than death, so really killing him was a mercy.

The nausea grew worse the more he thought. He was stuck inside a living nightmare. He couldn’t make a decision like this. Either way he would never be able to live with himself. If he chose to go along with he prisoners, he would be partially responsible for a murder, but if he didn’t he would, in essence, be siding with a monster.

The boss glowered at him with his dark, beady eyes, “You aren't going to chicken out on us are you? You know what this guy did. Not going to side with him are you because if you don’t help us ...”

He let the threat hang on the dark air of the cell. Adam felt his heart sinking even further, and now if he didn’t help murder someone he would be taking the side of the monster, and everyone would blame him for it. Who knows what would happen to him after that. He glanced over at Krill who could only look on at him in pity. He probably had no idea the internal struggle he was having right now, but it hardly mattered. Krill knew that this wasn’t going to be good.

“Who is this guy….” Adam wondered, “Someone we know?”

The man scrolled down on the report, “The guy’s name is Ted, seems to have managed to fly under the radar since getting here.”

Adam felt his heart go cold.

No no no no please no.

The screen turned to face him, and his stomach dropped into the very void itself. He knew that face, he knew that face as a friend, someone he liked, someone he had confided in, someone he had respected, someone he assumed had been innocent. He had played cards with him bemoaned their current living situation. The man had told him his crime was ‘no big deal. He felt nauseous and angry all over again. How could he help kill someone he had liked. How could he even feel remorse for a lying sack of shit that DESERVED to die. Why did he feel bad for WANTING to choke the life out of that man.

The competing emotions made him sick for real. His stomach churned.

The boss patted him on the back, “I know as a matter of course that the guy comes out once a day to eat. Tomorrow at noon, we strike. Made a truce with the bats and the beetles to get in the way of the guards so we can finish the job.”

“But… you hate the Drev.” he whispered his voice choked.

“I do, but I hate this guy even more.” He stood stretching, “I will leave you to a good night’s rest, Steel. Make sure you have your strength for tomorrow.” He got up and left as silently as he had come. Krill remained floating at the side of the cell. Commander Vir remained paralyzed where he sat. Conversations flashed through his head, he remember the man’s face, and couldn’t help his imagination as he wondered how those kids felt. Then his imaginings grew violent. He felt tendons squeeze and pop below his hands as he choked the life out of that man.

He lurched violently from his bed bracing himself with one hand against the wall as he hovered over the toilet. Behind him, his cellmate shifted in his sleep. His mouth watered as it tends to right before one loses their lunch. He squeezed his eyes shut. His skin crawled as he remembered every time that man had touched him, thought about where those hands had been and what they had done.

Saliva dripped in silver strings from his mouth. His stomach clenched. He dry heaved once, but nothing came up, and it didn’t even give him the courtesy of happening fading enough so he stood back up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Krill stood worriedly next to him as he sunk down to the floor next to the shiny silver bowl face in his hands

“What are you going to do?” krill whispered.

“I… I don’t know.” he gripped his hair in both fists still nauseous feeling sick and disgusting wishing that he could scrub off the first layer of his skin. Wishing that he had never ended up in this hell hole, “You only have one option….. You have to do it…”  Krill’s voice was regretful but clearly resigned.

He dragged his fingers down his face, “I ...I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.” His stomach churned.

Krill stared at him in confusion sensing a but.

“But…. I want to…. Krill he he LIED to me, and he…. The things he’s done.” he shook his head as a flash of inhuman or perhaps superhuman anger rushed through him, “he deserves to DIE!” Krill took a step back from him in surprise. The anger faded again to a dep profound sickness, “Krill I… I don’t know what to do. Killing people it isn’t right, hurting people isn’t right, no matter how much I want to do it…… and i want to do it Krill. I've never wanted anything so bad before. I it scares me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. 

Krill rested one of his appendages on the man’s shoulder face buried back in his hands, “I don’t entirely understand.”

He looked up agonized green eye caught in the dim light of the cell, “I…. he deserves to die Krill…. After reading that. I want nothing more than to kill him. That’s the most monstrous inhuman horrible thing that a person can do, and every…. Every fiber of my being want to hurt him, wants to make him suffer.��� His voice hissed through his teeth with the strength of his anger before churning downwards, “But ... but I’m supposed to be better than that, Krill. Commander of the UNSC I am an upholder of the law, I i cant stoop to beating people to death. I can't do this. If I did this I would just prove I’m not worthy to hold the position, and I would disappoint everyone who has ever known me I’d disappoint myself. Id become one of them.” He glanced towards the door, “Thi issue is supposed to be something for the law.” He tugged at his hair in frustration, “But the law here is so twisted….. Krill I…. I don’t know what to do.”

Krlil Could only stand and watch helpless as the human struggled internally. Krill himself understood what was logical. The idea of a moral right and wrong was not something he could entirely comprehend. Things either made sense, or they didn’t and right now following rule of the gang was the only thing that made sense. The guy deserved it, the commander wanted too, and he would be punished if he didn’t, so there seemed to be only one logical course of action.

But then again, the man had always had a strong ‘moral compass’ and it could potentially cause some severe psychological damage if he did…. Something that other species would never have to deal with. Either way he would lose.

Krill tried to comfort his friend, but paranoia made him return to his cell for fear of retribution leaving Commander Vir alone in the dark curled in a ball head in hands wishing more than anything that he could be anywhere else than struggling with his own indecision. The gut most human part of him leading to violence while the higher part of him told him it was wrong. 

He didn’t sleep that night.

-

The star rose on an unsuspecting landscape. The prison doors opened with a buzz and prisoners staggered rubbing their eyes groggily as they moved out into the hall. Commander Vir stepped from his room like a zombie eyes red face pale, only to be greeted by the other members of the crew who shared wolfish, knowing looks.

He didn’t have the stomach for breakfast, and sat, staring down the hall with a hammering heart. The hours ticked on bringing him closer and closer to a decision. 

His heart ached.

Sitting out in the yard, head bowed face down, he still hadn’t come to a decision. He could hear the other humans muttering around him with anticipation for what was to come. He wished the guards would take notice of the strange behavior and act on it. They had to know something was up, with the prisoners sitting around doing nothing, looking hungrily towards the mess hall doors like a pack of ravening animals.

He didn’t want any part of this.

He had never thought in a million years that he would have to make this sort of decision, and what was worse, he hated how he felt. He wanted nothing more than to watch this guy get what was coming to him. 

If he really was a good person, if he really cared, wouldn’t he tell someone? 

There was a sharp whistle, and all the men on the yard stood eagerly from their seats and headed towards the doors. His heart sank into his chest, and he stood but had trouble making himself move. A hand clamped about hi shoulder from behind, and he was shoved towards the open doors, “Don’t chicken out on us now Steel.” Smiley whispered from behind.

He was pushed through the door sitting down at a table slightly away from the others. He had ordered Krill off to his cell for the duration of what was about to happen. He didn’t want the little alien to have to see what was about to happen. If he could have, he would have made it so that HE didn’t have to see what was going on. 

He didn’t see how the guards couldn’t sense what was about to happen. The tension in the air was palpable and could have been hacked through with a dull knife. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, hoping that the man would not come through those doors. Perhaps he would stay in his cell today, and no one would be the wiser. Perhaps someone would come and find him before this was all said and done, and he wouldn’t have to hear about it.

He tried to fight back those thoughts, the thoughts of a coward. Just because he wasn’t here didn’t mean that he should ignore it. He couldn't’ just wash his hands of the situation 

He SHOULD get up and tell the guards what was going to happen and consequences be damned.

But another part of him, a secret dark part of him….. Refused to bring himself to do it. That man knew what he did. He had made the decisions that brought him here, he had done something unforgivable and disgusting, and now he deserved to get what was coming to him, it was only fair after all the things he had done. It wasn’t Adam’s responsibility to go out of his way to help a man who deserved nothing better than death. In fact, death was to easy of a punishment in his opinion.

There were just some things that were unforgivable.

He felt, rather than saw when the man entered. He sensed it on the tensing of the air. Even the Drev had chosen to make themselves scarce retreating to their cells or the catwalks high above to watch what was about to happen. It seemed as if only the guards didn’t know. Or perhaps they did, and they didn’t care.

He sat hunched over his trey praying, and felt his heart tighten when a shadow darkened the seat across from him.

He couldn’t bare to look up.

“Good morning, Commander. I missed your company this morning.” The sound of the man’s voice made his skin crawl. His heart began to race and he felt a sudden overwhelming burst of white hot hatred. The feeling scared him, and he tried his best to choke it down, but it wouldn’t go. Sensing the man there, hearing his sniveling voice and thinking about the times they had made contact with each other. Handing over a card or even shaking hands.

It made him sick, and angry.

He made no noise.

“Is everything alright.” The man wondered.

Another shadow crossed over his back. He could feel them gathering behind him. The man before him went silent head tilted back to look upwards at the looming figures beginning to gather around the table.

A hand landed on the Commander’s shoulder, “Steel…. This…. A friend of yours.” the voice was cold and hard.

There was a long silence.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, “Steel.”

Commander Vir lifted his eyes from the table, making contact with the pleading expression of the man across the table. His watery grey eyes, his unassuming appearance, his receding mousy hairline. He looked like your average middle-aged man…. No, he was a monster wearing the skin of an average middle aged man.

Commander Vir felt as if he was watching himself in third person over his own shoulder. The boyish, wide eyed, honorable side of him was violently beaten down and dragged into a closet as something worse appeared materialized from the darkness in his head. The natural man took the controls cold and hard empty emotionless a creature of self satisfaction, the Id, the part of him that wanted nothing more than immediate reward, sadistic, hateful, envious, and carnal. 

It had no mercy.

And it was as if from the opposite side of the glass he heard himself say.

“No….. he’s no friend of mine.”

And like his words had been the damn that held back hell, the hounds were released, and a moment later the room was filled with the uproar of screaming voices and cries of horrific animalistic agony.

Adam was pushed to the side, and the table at which he sat was overturned as a riot of men threw themselves past him. He hit the floor and rolled to the side coming to land in a crouch just to the right of the overturned table. The room echoed and clattered. 

Screams of absolute agony cut through the air. Sirens blared red and bloody painting the walls in a hellish light.

Something cracked.

Screaming.

He crouches watching a writing mass of bodies, a horrific amalgamation of man’s worst instincts piled together in a many legged many armed creatures. Hands raised and plunged downwards violently, repeatedly. Blood painted the floor like a Jackson Pollock painting done in red. The screaming grew until it was no longer human, a guttural animalistic wale that rent the very air around them.

They were tearing him apart.

Adam felt the corner of his mouth twist in grim satisfaction, and then immediately snapped back to reality choked with disgust and horror. Rooted to the spot doing NOTHING watching a man being murdered before his eyes, and yet...

In the midst of it all, he couldn’t bring himself to intervene.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder shoving him forward, “GET IN THERE.” The boss growled hand coming away covered in blood. A small part of himself, that animal from earlier snarled at the door to his cage.

A part of him wanted more than anything to join in.

Watched in satisfaction as he got what was coming to him. He relished the poetic justice of it all, while at the same time feeling disgust at himself. The world around him seemed to flow in slow motion. Small droplets of blood leaped into the air where they caught the light before falling back to earth. Something else cracked.

He felt his heart jumped with a sick excitement.

“No.” he whispered 

The world lost all sound. The screaming faded and died. The boss cut around to look down at him, “What.”

“I said, no.” he whispered again.

A body skidded past them on the floor ragged, torn.

Eyes narrowed, anger flared in the depth of two black pupils. He rose in Adam’s vision, “You would side with the FREAK!” “I side with NO ONE .” Adam spat.

The man stared at him, a once, predatory friendliness turned to ice, “You will wish you had never been born.” but he had more immediate matters to attend to, turning and joining the climax of the fight. Adam remained rooted to the spot sick horrified as bone snapped, and the body went silent and limp.

They didn’t stop there….. They kept going on and on and on as Commander Vir stood on and watched. The tables had all been overturned, blood painted the floor in wide arcs. And there he stood doing nothing, neither joining or helping. Holding back like a coward, like some kind of sadistic animal looking on like an unfeeling king watches an execution, watches men women and children hang from a rope. The men pulled away from the bloody husk twisted and broken on the ground, and at that moment Adam Vir was hit with a sense of horror and self loathing he couldn’t have comprehended even ten minutes before. The bloodied corpse grew up in his vision until it filled his head, dead staring eyes boring into his soul, a snapshot that would remain with him forever.

A man he had condemned to death with his actions and his words. 

He was a sick twisted bastard.

And he had allowed a man to die…. Had encouraged it with his innaction, had wanted it. And deep down, he had relished it in a deep sick part of his mind he felt no remorse. 

He was glad the sick fuck was gone.

Perhaps that’s why he stayed, he could have run knowing what was coming, but he didn’t deserve to run. He didn’t deserve to fight back. He didn’t even close his eyes as the circle closed in around him, men covered in blood like a pack of hyenas feeding on carrion returning to finish off a wounded prey animal.

The boss stopped a few feet in front of him, body painted with the world’s most horrific body paint, “Now that we’ve gotten rid of one sick fuck, we now have to get rid of the sympathizers.” 

He saw the first coming, could have dodged…. But he didn’t.

HE was hauled to his feet by smiley jerked off his feet by the front of his jumpsuit. Hoisted into the air so that his toes were dangling inches from the ground. Lights grew up in his eyes as he stared upwards watching the balconies and the surrounding Drev staring down at him like the council at his trial their expressions uncaring…. Even pleased.

“You had your orders.” The man spat. “And you stood there like a coward.”

Adam locked eyes with the man, “You;re right.” He said simply

The first punch was a kidney shot and had him on the ground writhing in agony within the first few seconds. It was hard to remember what happened next. The boot to the face, kicked in the side, the chest ribs. He was punched in the head, it was all a blur of faces all anger and malice. People who had once considered him a friend now drove their bodies against him in a frenzy that painted his blood across the floor with that of a deadman.

The latch to his prosthetic snapped. Metal was ripped away from his body. 

He screamed once, was kicked in the stomach and choked on his own missing air. But he didn’t fight them, he didn’t deserve to fight them. 

He curled up into a ball forearms covering his face and despite the pain and the agony, he refused to pass out. He didn't deserve that. Inside his head visions of that bloody…. Thing repeated over and over and over again

Voices swelled up around him, yelling and barking. Men cried out in pain, and with one last kick to his thigh, he was left lying in a pool of his own blood face resting against the cold concrete/ Voices rose above him, grabbing him about the arms and dragging him away. He heard the voices of the guards, watched the lights overhead pass over him in sharp streaks. Something warm trickled down the side of his face. Spilled onto the floor to be smeared into the concrete.

A door opened, and he was thrown inside.

A concrete room with no windows, a steel door, no bed and a hole in the far corner.

In tremendous pain, the man pulled himself sitting back on his knees and stared down at his hands covered in congealing blood once steady. As he watched they began to shake uncontrollably. He hunched forward hands to his chest face contorted into an expression of pain, and agony, not from the wounds, ot from the pain, but from the realization of what he had done.

A sob escaped him, and he didn’t try to fight it. His body ached with horrific pain with every racking sob. Tears tracked pathways through the blood on his face and fell to the ground a delicate pink. 

What had he done?

He had sat there, and he had watched a man brutally murdered. And he had done nothing about it….. A part of him had even enjoyed it. 

He watched in turmoil as the picture he had crafted of himself shattered into a million pieces and cascaded around him to the floor. The upstanding, moral man who always did what he knew was right, who was taught by loving parents to take the high road, who modeled himself after superheroes, action heroes, and his own idols. Someone who protected the innocent, upheld the weak and righted the unjust…. Was nothing more than a paper man.

A sham.

A fake.

A lie.

He sobbed into his hands which morphed into screams with the sobs were no longer enough to express his self loathing. What kind of man was he, couldn't even stand by his actions once they were made weeping like a pathetic child.

He lay, cold on the floor for hours and hours staring at the far wall listening to the distant echoes of the prison. As he calmed he took stock of himself swept up the pieces so that he was all together despite being broken.

Though he wished it had never happened, he could change nothing now. He had done what he had done. The ends didn’t justify the means, and just because he hadn’t done anything didn’t mean blood wasn’t on his hands. How could he know what was right do you save a monster because it's morally right, or stand by and watch a monster die because that’s what it really deserves. What gave him the right to make that decision.

-

He lay there for what must have been hours but could have been days his skin growing sticky and then crusted with drying blood. The door to his cell opened, “Get up.” When he couldn’t do it on his own, he was hauled to his feet by one of the guards. Together they walked, and hopped, back down the halls and onto the yard. The entire room was quiet as they stared at him.

He couldn't have cared less that they could see him in such a sorry state, what did it matter now. The paper man had crumbled, they might as well see it. He was left sagging on one leg in the center of the room, and he didn’t bother to move. The men got to their feet glowering down at him with a mixture of expressions. Time moved around him as if at double speed 

A figure scuttled towards him from the darkness, and to his surprise, krill took his hand. 

He had never done anything like that before.

He looked down.

And the alien looked up at him, though he said nothing.

The room grew tighter, men approached from all sides, “Krill, you should go.” His slurred through swollen, painful lips.

“No Commander.” krill responded 

The guard withdrew, and the room shifted forward. This time he did close his eyes. It was one thing to see another man die, but to watch Krill caught up in this was to much. He tried to urge the little alien away once more, but he refused, wrapping his spidery arms around his human friend all too sure that he was going to die here.

But if that was the case, he would not let his human die alone and suffering.

Adam leaned his head against Krill eyes tight shut.

“It’s going to be ok.” The alien muttered 

Adam felt a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.How very human….

Empty platitudes.

The little alien had learned a lot.

A shadow cut past them. He lowered his head.

And the room was split in half by a Drev battle cry so powerful that it rattled the walls and the floors. The man above them staggered back hands over his ears. The catwalks clattered, and the ground shook. Adam opened his eyes lifting them towards the sky, not expecting to find an angel, but getting one in bright blue.

Sunny stood on the catwalk above face contorted with a livid anger that cowed guards, drev and humans alike, “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.” She snarled at the human standing next to her, turning and shoving Drev two to three feet taller than her out of the way with the ease a bowling ball goes through pins.

The human scampered after her, “We… we had no idea.”

Sunny rounded on here, “DID YOU EVEN BOTHER TO FIND OUT.” Behind her, a member of the UN and the chairwoman of the GA stepped through the doors faces shocked and appalled as they looked about the room and the conditions in which the prisoners were being kept.

Sunny came to to toe with the leader of the Drev yard. At first the large female didn’t move, but a single look from sunny cowed her into groveling submission as sunny shoved past and marched down the stairs. She nearly body checked one of the prisoners over the railing and onto the floor fifteen feet beneath when he did not move fast enough.

Leaving the Chairwoman and the representative above, Sunny raced across the floor and skidding to kneel at Adam’s side. He lifted his head to look at her dried blood cracking against the movement.

A look of pain crossed her face, and a single hand gently cupped the side of his face tilting it this way and that, “Oh Adam, what have they done.” She whispered 

The light above him grew very very bright filling his vision with light, “I’m a paper man,” He whispered, but that was all he could say body slumping into her arms. A murmur grew up around the room.

Sunny hugged the human against her chest.

“Commander!.” Two voices from above, and two marines came leaping down the stairs heedless of their uniforms.. Ramirez and the short, blond hair female marine ‘Maverick’. 

“The hell did they do to you.” The Maverick snarled glowering at the other prisoners standing quietly back in a wide circle.

Their discussion was interrupted as the warden stepped onto the catwalk, ‘I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHO YOU ARE; YOU HAVE NO JURISDICTION HERE!” “THE HELL WE DON’T.” The UN rep snapped, “By GA law, any HUMAN allowed off earth or mars remains  under the jurisdiction of the UNSC in accordance with the first intercelestial peace accord put forth by the GA in 4018. Furthermore all Tesraki Drev and Rundi subjects are bound by GA bylaw, so YES we have jurisdiction, and we have allowed this to continue long enough. FURTHERMORE.” he said speaking up over the protests of the warden, “You have violated at LEAST 50 intergalactic bylaws, and amendments. What is this 2001, we know what humanity is by now AT LEAST. Not to mention that we show up here and find one of our Commanding officers kneeling in a pool of his own blood, only to learn that you didn’t even bother to verify his identity.”

“He had no prints in the system.” The man snarled 

“ONE PHONE CALL. JUST ONE PHONE CALL. And that is not even TOUCHING on his right to counsel, or a fair trial. We don’t just THROW people in prison based on circumstantial evidence. He was sent here to get down to the problem of intergalactic hormone trade only to be beaten half to death by men no better than animals in a prison, the likes of which we haven't seen since the late 2000s. You sir are a DISGRACE to the ENTIRE HUMAN RACE.” Commander Vir was only half listening idly staring at the lights as someone wiped blood from his face.

“Get him up.”

Someone ducked under one of his arms and he was hauled to his feet. He tried his best to keep one leg under him, but was finding he wasn’t a great amount of help. Maverick supported his one side, while sunny took the other. Ramirez, based on a look, made it very clear what would happen if any of them tried anything grabbing krill by the hand and pulling him along.

It all felt like a dream as the steel catwalk passed below him, and the doors slid open. The prison faded behind him into a maze of hallways.

He was out, he was free.

…. He was finally……

Free.