#I like chucking Killer for some odd reason

[lolsonic-idk-man]

Talk to Me: Chapter 4

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3, Chap5, Chap6

I was writing chapter 4 of Talk to Me yesterday and it was over 6000 words there was still a lot more I wanted to write so I cut it, and now chapter 4 is done and just under 4000 words and chapter 5 is halfway done.

Anyway, there is now going to be 6 in total chapters unless I manage to do something else...

I'm sorry IT TOOK SO LONG! (@sfdsds)

It was nothing large this year, just your average raid with a few more people added to the mix. Which was a good thing considering Dream's mental state. Nightmare had told his men to keep the rest of the Stars busy as he attempted to speak with Dream. 

He had also pulled some of the strings he had on some AUs that used him for protection or supplies. It was at times like this that Nightmare was glad that he had allowed for trade between some of the more negative AUs, they owed him to some extent and they all knew it.

The reason he had to ask them to fulfill their debt today was because everyone in the Omega Timeline knew Nightmare always planned something larger on the 21st of December, (it being their birthday after all.) So they prepped their own forces to defend, gathering as many as were willing to volunteer, which was a lot.

So it was best if Nightmare had his own army.

The AU they would attack was a fairly close copy to the original that leaned into the more positive side of the spectrum, perfect for acting like he was trying to do damage. It wouldn't really though, Error would probably get to the AU soon after, and it would be like nothing happened.

Nonetheless, the Stars showed up shortly after they started.

His men quickly took to making sure Blue and whoever else was working with the Stars that day were busy, and it seemed like Ink and Error decided it was better to watch today. Although fairly ironic. You'd think at least the Protector would join.

Regardless, Nightmare had managed to engage Dream in a timely manner. And Dream had not kid. His movements were slowed, so much so that Nightmare would more often than not have to miss him purposely. Which in turn made it harder than it should have been to herd him into a more secluded area, but nonetheless Nightmare had done it.

By the time they got to an open area in the Snowdin forest, not a single word had been spoken between the two, any of the forced glow in Dream's eye-lights had disappeared and was replaced with a stare that begged Nightmare to end it.

Nightmare let his tentacles return to his back as Dream struggled to hold his bow with his dwindling will and stared at his brother.

" I would like to speak with you Dream. "

Confusion seeped into his eye-lights as he tried to keep them trained on Nightmare. " What? "

Nightmare fixed his poster, " I, would like to speak with you Dream, and properly figure some things out. " Dream merely continued to stare but with the addition of anxiety. " More specifically about what has happened in that little apartment of yours. "

His eye-lights disappeared at the menchen. " How did you- what does it matter? "

" I've heard a multitude of things over the past few weeks, " His brother's arms drop. " And I would like to… start apologizing, for… the many things I've done. "

His bow dropped into the snow and he started to laugh. " You're sorry!? WHY!? Why would you be sorry? Do you want to get my hopes up just so that you can pour water on it? I'm sorry to tell you but I don't think that will work if you haven't noticed I'm at my end. " His arms slowly wrapped around him as he started to tremble, crooked smile still there. " You've been watching, I'm sure you know I'm giving up, so do whatever you want! Kill me, trap me in an overly negative AU, do whatever! I won't fight it. " Dream fell to the ground, curled into a ball, and weakly muttered. " Do whatever. "

Nightmare did this.

" I wish to speak with you. I wish to speak about your side of the story, what's going through your skull, voluntarily, not because you're having a panic attack and muttering it aloud. "

Dream barely looked over his arms and stared Nightmare down with dead eye-lights before sighing, " Fine, my side. My side was me being a quivering fool by listening and helping the villagers even after I saw them hurt him. "

Dream couldn't even say his name.

" I couldn't do my damned job and because of it he's gone and our AU is dead. "

" You were scared. "

" I shouldn't have been. "

" We were children. "

" And I was the Guardian of Positivity. "

" That was a role that was never meant for a child. "

" Yet it was given to one. "

" It doesn't change the fact that a child never should have had the responsibility. "

" WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING ME!? " Dream snapped. " I failed! It was my fault! What's with the sudden change? For seven years you tell me how it was my fault, and now it's not!? And as if you'd just forgive me! So what do you want? What do you want if you don't want me dead? "

A moment of silence.

" I want to make a truce, I want to try and rebuild the bridge I burned so many years ago, I wish to ask for forgiveness, but I do not expect any of it. For that is up to you. "

" Why should I trust you? Why should I trust anyone? Everything I've ever been told in our old AU was a lie. The villagers lied about nearly everything, he lied to me. Even today people use me. Some of the Omega Timeline's council try to get me to do their shit for them, even some of the people from the Omega Timeline! And I couldn't even realize it until Cross Brought it up! " His arms flung above his head to exaggerate the sentence. " I've been used from the start and I'm still being used now, and I can't tell if I am myself. So if I can't even trust myself why in the world should I trust you? "

" Well, you seem to already trust my word about your brother being gone. "

" Sort of hard not to when presented with such compelling evidence. "

" What if I forged it? "

" Then I am more naive than I thought. "

" And if I invited you to my castle for a nicer setting for this conversation would you? "

Dream takes a glimpse of the area and himself, " With where I am I do not see why not. "

Nightmare nodded and turned to open a portal, Dream was still, " Are you coming? "

Without a word, his brother stood up and walked through the tare in reality, not hesitating in the slightest.

Nightmare's tentacles dragged in the snow as he walked after Dream.

On the opposite side of the portal was a room made of the same stone as the rest of his palace, dimly lit by torches and the fireplace. The room had a wide range of furniture, from the bean bag Error demanded for his visits, the silk couch that his goop had stained more times than he was willing to admit, the RGB TV Killer begged for, and a coffee table made with bulletproof glass, even then it was replaced once a week.

Dream stood a few feet ahead of Nightmare, dumbfounded.

" Yes, I'm aware I should never let my man decorate again. " The negative Gaurdian groaned. " But on other matters, I need to call back my man. Sit wherever you desire, except the bean bag, Error will kill me if I let anyone else touch it. "

His brother gave a small nod but no move to sit down. With a sigh, Nightmare went to call the retreat.

After a little more than an hour of sorting monsters into their appropriate AUs and drilling into Killer's skull that he was not allowed to bother Dream, he returned to where said skeleton was radiating anxiety from the middle of the couch.

To be honest anyone could tell just by his body language, and the fact that Nightmare could sense it made it even more prominent. Which was odd. Normally Nightmare couldn't sense how Dream was feeling due to his positive aura hiding his feelings. Making the situation worrying.

Nightmare pushed him to this point.

" Dream. " the golden guardian jolted, turning to face his brother.

" Y- yes? " He stuttered.

In complete honesty, the dark guardian did not know what he was supposed to do. Dream was now in his place, his castle, his home, sitting on his couch as a guest instead of standing in a field of dust and blood prepared to fight with his life, and for the lives of the ones still standing.

How Nightmare had failed to realize how awkward this would be was astonishing. " I would assume you would like a tour of the palace? Or perhaps you would like some food to replenish yourself? " He gestured to the large doors in the room.

Hesitating, Dream nodded.

Understanding that his brother also had no idea what to do in the situation. He returned the action, pulled out his phone, and sent Horror a text requesting some sort of treat be set up in the dining room for when they arrived.

Placing his phone back in his inventory he turned his gaze to Dream once more, who was now standing a few feet away from him, and seemed to think the floor was the most interesting thing in the world.

Excepting the fact that there was not going to be a conversation Nightmare started the tour. " I suppose the best place to start would be here, wouldn't it? We are in the north wing, the area of the place made for more calm recreation. I am sure you've figured out this is the living room, although rarely used by anyone other than me. Other areas such as the library and kitchen will be found here as well. "

With that being said Nightmare led Dream out of the room, down a few halls, naming every meaning full room, and into the west wing, which had turned into an area his men used to train and do anything they wanted without breaking any valuable. Guests were not allowed to go there if they wanted to live because Nightmare's gang did not watch out for anyone when training.

Dream remained soundless.

The South wing was compressed of storage and where more serious business was taken care of.

" What sort of ' business '" Dream's vow of silence ended.

" How do you think I filled my castle furnishing? " He turned to face the golden guardian. " I run an extensive trading system between some of the more negative AUs. It serves me well and was fairly good at boosting positivity when it was needed during your absence. "

" Ah. " Dream shrunk.

Perhaps that last part was unnecessary. Regardless the tour continued.

The last place for the tour was the East Wing, the East Wing was where the sleeping quarters were. Nightmare pointed to where all of his subordinate's rooms were, his own, and where Dream's room would be.

Although once shown his room it was apparent he wanted to disappear inside it, alas, Horror had already prepared food, and Nightmare knew better than to leave it untouched.

" Horror made food for your visit, you can hide after you've eaten. You need to get something down your hatch anyway. "

After deflating a little and a realization of some sort, (most likely that he hadn't eaten for a while now.) he nodded and allowed Nightmare to lead him to the dining room.

The walk was no different than the rest of the time they had had together, the only sound heard was the sound of their footsteps.

Apon arrival the first thing they saw was (Instead of food) Horror with a tray above his head and the gremlin Killer, trying to worm his way out of Horror's other arm.

" Come on! I'm just gonna have one! Is that really that bad? " He wined as he attempted to escape his captor's arm.

" Nightmare wanted them for Dream. You can have whatever is left, " the large skeleton granted.

" Booooooo! " Horror adjusted his hold on Killer and threw him over the table. " ACK- "

The plater was placed by the head of the table, " They're here anyway, ya won't have to wait long. "

" Oh, HEY BOSS! " Killer shouted pulling himself off the ground and waving. " and Dream. "

Not amused by the spectacle the dark guardian massaged the bridge of his nasal cavity, took his place at the head of the table, pulled out Killer's seat with his tentacles, and motioned for Dream to take it.

The chair's normal seater let out a loud offended gasp, stopping Dream from even considering taking a seat. " Boss! You wouldn't! "

" But I have, Dream, you may seat yourself, " He motioned to the chair again.

The confused and anxiety-filled guardian took a second trying to register the situation as Killer grumbled on his way to the seat on the other side. A moment longer before he quickly shuffled to the chosen seat.

With all of the dramatics out of the way Nightmare- " Horror please explain to me why there are ten bags of chips on a silver platter. "

" Had ta make sure there was flavor Dream would like, " The giant released a deep chuckle.

Holding a groan, " You couldn't have made anything… " What was a good way to put it? " with more effort? "

" Nah, I'm workin' on dinner. Couldn't waste too much time on a snack. "

The groan had its freedom, " Very well, I expect something of exceptional quality tonight Horror. "

" Nothing less boss, " Really Horror. 'Nothing less,' Nightmare ought to strangle him. He couldn't though, Horror had already made his way out of the dining hall.

Dream had taken to looking at the chips and back to Nightmare, playing a game of ping pong with his eye-lights. A game that would only end when he got an answer of whether or not he could eat the chips.

With a sigh, the dark guardian nodded and messaged the rige of his nasal cavity.

Sweat formed on his twin's skull as he slowly reached past the Doritos for the classic lays, continuing to stare Nightmare down as if he'd change his mind at any given moment.

" Just take a damned chip bag. " Killer whines from his board form. " Boss doesn't bite. Plus I want some chiiiips! "

" Killer! " A glare threatening his removal from his boss and from Dream a look that desperately wants to say something about 'Boss doesn't bite.'

As Killer grumbled his defeat and leaned back into his chair with his arms crossed, Dream grabbed a bag and took to quietly eating it.

Not much more happened in that evening, Killer ran off with the entire plater when Dream did not reach for another bag of chips. When it was offered that Dream gets comfortable with his room he eagerly agreed. So Nightmare left him to be alone till dinner. However, feeling Dream's anxiety spike led to a change of plans. Nightmare was not about to force his brother to join them, he wanted him to feel comfortable, and have a choice in his endeavors here, or when he wanted to leave. So the offer that Horror or someone else brought a surviving of dinner to him was made, and with it, Dream's anxiety withered.

The following days happened the same. Dream would stay in his room, and someone would bring him food, sometimes attempting a conversation, only to be met with the silence of a room that felt empty or if they were lucky a hum.

It was exceptionally worrying.

The matter only became worse with how he could feel Dream's anxiety rise over time.

So a plan to get Dream out and about or just to help soothe him was devised.

Shortly after breakfast had been served, and Dream ate in his room once more, Nightmare knocked on his door and announced, " I hoped that you would join us this morning, and as you didn't I've decided we're going furniture shopping. "

A few beats of silence before the door opened slightly revealing dimly lit yellow eye-lights and a very confused stare. " What? "

" You need to get out and get some form of positivity, and with how much Ink drones on about nearly everything, I know fully well that this room is not your usual style nor the most comforting to you. Seeing as you do not plan to leave I figure your room ought to be set up for your comfort. "

A few blinks and silence was all Nightmare was met with.

" Get ready we will be leaving in 30 minutes, " With that, he nodded, walked away, and did his best to ignore Dream's confused panic.

Once the time had passed Nightmare made his presence known to Dream, before opening the door regardless if he answered or not.

Inside the golden guardian sat on his bed twitling his thumbs, wearing the outfit he wore for battle, and probably other formalities required of him by the Omega Timeline. Unexpected to say the least. Nightmare would have expected him to take one of the more casual options his boys collected for him. He supposed it was better than the white t-shirt and short shorts Dream had taken to wearing.

" Good to see that you did more than mope in your room. " Dream looked like he wanted to say something about the snarky greeting, but then realized that he had been moping in his room for the past four days. " Thought so, but let us be on our way. "

Walking through the newly formed portal and making sure Dream actually followed, they arrived in an odd AU, to say the least.

Nightmare deemed himself Lucky to have even found this AU. Its entire concept is practically the same as the original AU, just with an obsession with furniture. When Nightmare had found it it had been tilted towards the negative side of the spectrum because the humans of their world much longer than most AUs to fall into the underground, and monsters had started to lose hope of escape.

Though, through Nightmare's trading system they made it till the human fell and got them to the surface, and shockingly let them stay without any RESETS. It truly is an odd AU. But it served its purpose.

Stepping out of his portal and into an alleyway only to make sure one who did not know him did not see him come through.

He quickly made his way into the streets of an open mall-like area, mainly full of shops that had different styles of furniture, and had quite a number of Humans and monsters wandering the lots.

Dream stood close behind Nightmare trying to figure out what sort of AU this was. " Uh, where are we? "

" I'm unsure of its name, " – it's as if the creator of it made it quick just for a single quick plot point. – " But it is the reason my castle is well furnished. "

Dream stared a bit bewildered at Nightmare, " Didn't Ink make your place? "

Ah, it seemed Ink had told Dream how he had made Nightmare's home. " Indeed, but I had to manage him as he made it so that it wouldn't turn into whatever monstrosity he had planned. So you think I would let him furnish the place as well? "

" I won't deny Ink is a bit… hectic? " he looked away and sweat formed on his skull as he tried to make Ink sound like less than a sugar-high child who was given expensive art supplies and permission to do whatever he wanted with them, yes that includes eating it.

" Indeed, and from what he's told me, you took to, erm, ' Cottagecore ' for your choices in decor. " Nightmare had to look into that term to figure out what on earth Ink was talking about.

" Yes, that is how Ink described my house to me… " His eye-lights avoided contact with Nightamre's as he stood stiff.

Not wanting to live in the silence that followed Nightmare continued to the story that he had chosen for the trip, thankful that he didn't have to drag Dream, as he heard the clop of Dream's boots trying to catch up to him shortly after he walked away.

The shop Nightmare had set his eye-light apon was just up an escalator and past three other shops, so the walk should have been quick.

That didn't stop the monsters who recognized The Guardian of Negativity from stopping them to giving thanks or asking questions about Dream who had slipped his smiling mask on again, trying desperately to act like he was fine.

After a few minutes of shoving through the monsters, the few humans who got swept in by the crowd or were curious to know what the gathering was about, answered the same question " Why are you here with Dream? " who knows how many times, they finally made it to their goal.

  Looking through one of the windows from the shop he could see a small dining room set up centered around a soft desaturated green, white, and light brown with a plastic vine plant of some sort draped over the edge of the table. The other window had a living room scene the main colors being nearly the same. The only difference is the soft desaturated yellow instead of the green.

Inside the shop the walls were lined with transparent pictures of different furniture one could purchase, separated by actual furnishing of varying designs.

Nightmare went to convey how large of a purchase he would be making to the monster at the counter after assuring his brother he could choose whatever he wanted.

He was not kidding when he said it would be a " large purchase. " The bedrooms of his palace had waiting rooms that were filled with seating, and the inside of the room itself was massive. It could hold its own living area, office, and gym, every room even had its own bathroom. One could fit nearly anything they wanted in those rooms. Nightmare had placed a library of his favorite books in his own so that he would be able to retrieve them without having to traverse the castle for them.

Knowing just how nervous Dream was his brother paid close attention to how he was feeling and what he was looking at. Taking note of the different amounts of affection and intrigue to different pieces, to then be scared away by the price.

Maybe an hour of looking – for cheap stuff – Dream found a few that fit whatever budget he had set up in his own head. Only for Nightmare to grab a few more of the ones Dream had taken a liking to. " You need not worry about the prices Dream, we need to fill your room anyway. "

The golden guardian said nothing as he watched his brother buy a stupendous amount of furniture. So much so that it was to be picked up in a week.

Once bought, Nightmare considered offering to get lunch in Fluffytale, a quant AU mainly known for the cat cafe run by the sans of the AU or Ccino, (Nightmare may hate cats but the coffee was worth it,) but After a look at Dream decided against it. Dream was already confused as a fish out of the water just from Nightmare's actions thus far.

Walking through his portal into the main living area as it had become customary to arrive there, only this time instead of the room being empty or dust napping on one of the couches, Killer and a skeleton wearing a complicated black and white uniform decorated with straps that make X's. 

Cross.

[springbloggy]

Ice-e Chuck E. Cheese theory

Of course, my first theory of the new year is my most unhinged. Strap in, folks; this one is a doozy.

Many people tend to make the mistake that ICE-E's is a parody of the popular indie game series Five Nights at Freddy's. In all fairness, FNAF has possibly expanded the scope of cultural relevance beyond its inspiration. So tying ICE-E to the FNAF series isn't too out there or negative.

However, it is not a parody of FNAF; ICE-E's is a parody of Chuck E. Cheese's. Now most people do acknowledge this, but only leave it at that. However, after some time, I started to realize the ties to the real-life franchise could possibly go so much deeper than that. Under the cut is the most wild ride of real-world ties, in-universe clues, and other thoughts of ICE-E's, its bizarre characters, and how it could all tie together in the plot.

As a refresher for both, starting with ICE-E's. ICE-E's is a popular pizza chain brand within the Deltarune universe. It is described as being a hellscape for its workers. Bizarrely, the pizza chef in the restaurant is a buff version of its mascot, named "the warrior.".

The mascot is also depicted in a pain chart, which is showcased in Undertale's Word Search.

With specific FUN Values, a snowman character labeled "nightmare" will appear in this word search.

In chapter 1, Noelle reminisces on a memory where Kris told her that ICE-E "eats kids." There's also a story from the Spamton Sweepstakes on how Noelle saw the ICE-E pizza box wink at her, causing her sister to burn the box and Kris to help bury the remains at the cemetery.

So what does any of this creepypasta stuff have to do with a real-life children's pizza chain?

Well, first, let's describe what Chuck E. Cheese's is for those unaware of it. Chuck E. Cheese's is a franchise dedicated to selling pizza, having an arcade space for kids, and entertainment. For years, entertainment came in the form of an animatronic band. Over the years, however, this animatronic band went down to just one animatronic in certain restaurants, and now, in recent times, it has been replaced outright by a dance party with a performer in a Chuck E. mascot.

Even before FNAF, the animatronics were known as being slightly disturbing, mostly due to using cheaper materials than the ones that can be found at theme parks and a lack of maintenance. If properly maintained or given higher-quality animatronic parts, the animatronics are actually rather charming, but that's the exception and not the norm.

Naturally, children tend to spread rumors about the restaurant, which is why FNAF became so initially popular, as FNAF reflected a common bonded experience many children had (at least in America) since 1977.

OK, so you might be thinking, surely the tie to the brand and its rumors is it for ICE-E's, right? Oh boy. I wish that was it.

See, you ever wonder why it's called Chuck E. Cheese's? Well, a huge part of the reason why is because of "saying cheese." If you've taken a photo, you may be aware of the tactic of saying cheese to get a person to smile. This is because the word itself makes the mouth form in a smile-like state. Thus, saying Chuck E. Cheese would also make the mouth smile, which would tie it into happy memories of visiting the place. However, since most connotations of the chain are negative, saying Chuck E. Cheese causes a forced smile in a place that doesn't bring happiness to that person.

A forced smile, even when you are in pain.

But there's another connotation with Chuck E. that interested me.

The Purple Guy.

This guy first appears outside of ICE-E's, and Pizzapants makes an odd remark about how he may not even work there. Later on, he can be found in a suit with a briefcase in the town hall.

Lots of people believe he's a reference to FNAF's purple guy, a character often used to represent the killer of the children that would go on to possess the game's murderous animatronics. However, I have my own connections that I think make more sense within Deltarune. To differentiate from FNAF, I will just call this character ICE-P (the p being short for purple) in the below theory.

Meet Mr. Munch.

Mr. Munch is an animatronic character featured in the Chuck E. Cheese band. He is a purple, fuzzy monster with a yellow belly.

I believe that ICE-P is the in-universe equivalent of the Mr. Munch animatronic. Like Mr. Munch, ICE-P is a purple monster with a different-colored belly. ICE-P's "skin" seems to be made of fabric, with an orange patch right on his leg, which would match up with him being a former animatronic at this restaurant.

So how did he get here, and why doesn't anyone recognize him from the restaurant if he is a former animatronic? Well, like real-life Chuck E. Cheeses, I believe all the ICE-E animatronics were tossed away due to cost and potentially scaring children. I think the ICE-E animatronic purge could have happened long before Chuck E. started doing it, maybe even during the formative years of the ICE-E brand, which could explain why Kris' Hometown ICE-E's doesn't have any room for an animatronic stage. It was constructed after the decision to eliminate them was already in place.

During this toss of animatronics, ICE-P managed to somehow escape total destruction, which is against the rules of Chuck E. Cheese's code, and this game shows the creepypasta rumor hypothetical of the consequences of breaking said rule.

ICE-P would gain life in the dark world, becoming yet another discarded item, bitter against the lightners. There, he would be given a special item: a shadow crystal.

If this theory is correct, ICE-P would fit right in with the superbosses, not only is he a discarded object, but being an animatronic would fit within the reoccurring motif of lack of control. Animatronics are programmed to repeat the same movements, songs, and pieces of dialogue for years. Maybe that's why every time Kris encounters ICE-P he repeats the same phrase, "Ice me up!" A cheesy catchphrase given to a forgotten mascot.

Anyway, unlike the other Darkners that were given shadow crystals, ICE-P managed to find a way back into the light world with a physical form. Maybe through the fact that he is an animatronic figure rather than an abstract idea or a toy. This leads to ICE-E's becoming a light world anomaly due to the interference of a darkner in, near, or associated with a place where he shouldn't be.

There, in the light world, ICE-P begins to get ready, putting his shadow crystal in a suitcase in order to present it to the Mayor, allowing the first step in a total dark world takeover.

So far, you may be thinking, "Well, this is well and good, Springy, but why Mr. Munch and not the character of Chuck E. Cheese himself? Wouldn't this theory work just as well with him? Yes, it would; however, I think making the distinctness of ICE-P being inspired by Mr. Munch makes his hypothetical backstory much more impactful.

Think about it, Mr. Munch is a side character who, if not entered in a Chuck E. Cheese location, most people wouldn't know about. He isn't prominently featured in advertising and wasn't included at all in Chuck E. Cheese's most iconic ad campaign.

Not to mention that the chances of even encountering Mr. Munch in a restaurant has become way lower, not only with the creation of "Studio C.", a version of the restaurants with only one animatronic, but also with the modern dance parties. Even if children entered a restaurant with Mr. Munch, they were mostly going to forget him or mistake him for a pre-existing mascot (Grimace anyone?)

So put yourself in this hypothetical version of ICE-P's shoes. Not only is he a haphazardly thrown away animatronic, forced to be programmed to "sing" pre-recorded songs for who knows how long, but he also had to play second fiddle to a much more popular and well remembered main character: ICE-E. The fact his face looks nearly identical to ICE-E's probably doesn't help matters, and could be an indicator he was built incredibly cheaply. All this can accumulate to the bitterness needed for ICE-P, which ultimately motivates his revenge scheme.

Heck, maybe Toby calling ICE-P "purple guy" really is meant to draw in the FNAF comparisons. After all, in the FNAF series, what is Purple Guy's favorite costume to lure children with? The answer is Springbonnie: a forgotten side character from the in-universe Freddy's past.

Heck, ICE-P being a side character could also fit in with what we have seen about Kris' home life, where Asriel has all the trophies and recognition but Kris doesn't.

Of course, there's an alternative theory I'd like to propose if this is still too far out there.

Mascot Theory

ICE-P could easily be designed after the most infamously hated mascot costume of all time.

Barney the Dinosaur. Not only does ICE-P have Barney's same color scheme, but he also has the same fabric "skin" and, uh, thickness.

For those unaware, Barney was a preschool show about a toy purple dinosaur that comes to life via the imagination of the children around him.

This fits really nice and snugly already with the imagination theme of the dark worlds and could provide an answer to how ICE-P managed to find himself in the light world. Through the power of children imagining/believing that ICE-E was a real cryptid.

The real world perception of Barney also fits the themes of the dark worlds as well. Despite its popularity, the majority of people hated Barney. Parents hated the show because it talked down to kids, and kids hated the show because they felt Barney was babyish. Many kids from the eras when Barney aired had their own violent parody of the show's theme song, "I love you".

Here's the version I remember being spread around at my school:

I hate you, you hate me Let's go kill Barney With an AK-47 and a couple of bombs Won't you help me kill them all?

Now what does Barney have to do with Chuck E. Cheese's? Well, if you've ever seen a parody of Chuck E.'s on TV, what is the mascot doing?

Usually there's either an employee who is apathetic about the job or the performer is being pummeled by children. Of course, this probably isn't too likely in real life, but the trope is widespread enough to be in the public consciousness.

So ICE-P could have been an old mascot costume thrown away after taking many beatings from children who disliked him and replaced by a more on-model version of ICE-E or a redesign of the character meant to make it cooler for kids.

But there's another factor that makes the mascot theory extra convincing. ICE-E as shown in the pain chart, has a static smile on his face that can't be removed even when he is in great amount of pain. While this could also work under animatronic theory, it is more fitting to have the old, worn-out mascot suit's defining feature and one of the motives be that he can't change his expression.

So under this theory, ICE-P will have a couple of things going for the superboss lack of control motif. First, he can't control his own expression. Second, by virtue of being a costumed character, he couldn't control his own movements. And third, if ICE-P truly comes to life through the imaginations of terrified children, it's possible he still can't control his own actions even after he stopped being a suit.

Which could mean...

ICE-E Eats Kids

Remember when I mentioned the story of how Kris told Noelle that ICE-E eats kids?

Well, what if Kris really did see ICE-E (aka ICE-P) eat a kid? Just not in the way you'd think.

There's no real elegant way to phrase my line of thought, so here's a recreation of what may have happened below.

The Catchphrase

When Kris types in what appears on the word search, Susie remarks this.

This is strange and scary for a children's mascot, even for ICE-E standards, it is a bit odd.

Well, if animatronic or mascot ICE-P theories are correct, that's because giasfclfubrehber isn't ICE-E's true catchphrase, his true catchphrase is the much more cheesy "Ice me up!"

So what is happening here? Well, what Susie describes seems to be a seizure or some other spasm caused by ICE-E trying to say some sort of forbidden word...

...maybe even the forbidden name...

…of the person who made him this way.

ICE-E and Snowgrave

Let's go back to this snowman.

Now, given the text "nightmare", the massive influence of ICE-E's in Deltarune, and the fact he's a snowman, I think this has more to do with Snowgrave than the snowy setting of Snowdin where the word search can be found.

But how does ICE-E's fit in Snowgrave? Well, I have a theory about that as well.

In 2020, there was a viral rumor spreading around that Chuck E. Cheese's recycled pizza off of customers' tables to use at future parties. The truth was a lot more mundane. Chuck E. Cheese's pre-cuts slices, puts them in the freezer, and then cooks them later.

This is important because it establishes a common technique found at restaurants: using a freezer, which could mean that one of the areas in ICE-E's is also a freezer.

Assuming an ICE-E's dark world, part of the joke in neutral routes is that ICE-E's has an absurdly large freezer space, a bit too much for what is needed and impossible to actually fit in the small area. Kinda like Dr. Who's Tardis (or at least that's how I understand it, judging by countless tvtropes WMGs).

But in Snowgrave, this area becomes much more sinister, as the large freezer space becomes the perfect place to make Noelle's Snowgrave spell much more powerful and potent due to the cold.

Plus, it could tie into a popular saying: "A cold day in Hell". ICE-E's is described as a hellscape to work in, and the freezer is cold. So luring Noelle to the freezer, in a place that's already hellish, would be a literal cold day in Hell. Maybe, like Spamton in the Snowgrave route, ICE-E's freezer is another location that Noelle isn't supposed to visit in the normal route.

This would also make ICE-P one of the most important superbosses in the game since his location would be tied to Noelle's increasing power. Heck, I might even make the case that he could easily be the final superboss, due to his reocurring appearance in all the chapters so far.

Sinister Foreshadowing in Pizza Dough?

This is the most stretchy part of this theory, but given everything else about this theory, putting this connection is fine enough.

In ICE-E's there's a lump of pizza dough on the counter with sauce just pouring out of it.

To me, this dough kinda resembles a slumped over body with blood pouring out of it. I know it's dark, but I am pretty sure this has been an observation someone else has made at least once.

Perhaps, this dough is actually foreshadowing to a future character's death or crippling injury. If I had to guess, it would probably take place in the dark world and might even be assigned to a major character.

If I had to guess who...well, there's only one character that has shown to be canonically dead in the Undertale universe so far, and that's Rudy.

Of course, dough could represent anyone in the game that can bleed, which extends to Darkner characters. So there's really no way to know for sure.

How ICE-E fits in the escapism trend

So far, every chapter has tied into themes of escapism. Chapter 1 is escapism with toys; Chapter 2 is escapism with technology; and Chapter 3 is shaping up to be escapism with television.

If ICE-E's really is a parallel to Chuck E. Cheese's there are a variety of things it could represent. I personally believe the most fitting is escapism with children's media, a trend with ever-increasing popularity. Returning to old childhood memories with an adult lens. However, the poor "hellish" working conditions and kids getting nightmares from the character rather than joy could showcase the darker side of children's media and how it affects its viewers and workers.

Alternatively, ICE-E could be focused on escapism via food—cooking food, eating food, whatever. An unhealthy habit if done excessively. ICE-E/P "Eating kids" would be the symbolic representation of unhealthy eating.

There's also the arcade and slides aspect of Chuck E. Cheese's, which could represent either escapism through video games or escapism through cheap thrills. This is the weakest tie, but it wouldn't be too surprising to see either.

TLDR; ICE-E's is based on old Chuck E. Cheese rumors. The "purple guy" is either a bitter, thrown away side character animatronic or a bitter old mascot costume that somehow managed to exit the dark world. Purple Guy is a superboss trying to get the mayor's attention in order to let the dark world take over. Giasfclfubrehber isn't ICE-E's cathphrase, but rather him trying and failing to say a forbidden name. ICE-E's freezer is an important place where Noelle's Snowgrave spell will become more powerful. The pizza dough pouring out sauce on the counter might foreshadow a future character death or injury.

[multi-level-shipper]

Security Breach’s Plot Needs Work (Part 3)

William needs to die for good.

This point needs no further explanation, but I will do my due diligence nonetheless.

Our protagonists have been losing since FNAF 4

Burntrap’s main reason for existing in FNAF: Security Breach was to act as the literal man behind the slaughter, taking control of Vanny and the other Bots through viruses. 

Throughout most of FNAF, we have two main recurring characters at odds with each other, Michael and William. While Michael is more or less in limbo (zombified and seemingly hopping from one Pizzeria death trap to the next), William has a finished arc that technically ended as early as FNAF 3. William dies, and the children’s souls go free. 

The problem started as soon as he came back.

Every time William comes back, the souls need to renew their revenge. Or, at least, more children die and need to renew their revenge (seems like a mix of both, judging by Security Breach.) This means that the children...are technically losing every time. 

William dies, comes back, more children are kidnapped and die, and the process rinses and repeats. We are EIGHT years from FNAF’s initial release date, and technically speaking, ALL of our main protagonists are losing. Puppet is trapped in Lefty and more children are dying. The souls who already died keep getting dredged up to take down William. Michael is technically the only one who accomplished his goal of “putting (Elizabeth) back together” and coming to find William (which has some dubious implications but I digress), and ...he died! He’s another backseat passenger in the proverbial car that William is running children over with! Like...OUCH?!? 

As long as William lives, the same story is being told over and over again. And as long as William lives, there is no closure. 

The Vanny conundrum

Vanny seems like the obvious candidate to replace William. 

However...let’s imagine for a moment that Burntrap gets Thanos snapped and never comes back at the end of Security Breach, and the virus disappears (like in the Best Ending.) When she gains her freedom in the Best Ending, she has either A.) Fucked off and uniquely swore a solemn oath never to go to another Chuck E. Cheese, or B.) Disappeared, never to return. This means that Vanny can’t be the next antagonist, unless there’s some other circumstance that brings her back. 

But, for FNAF’s own sake, she needs to replace him.

Here’s the thing, in terms of new villain candidates, unfortunately FNAF has few. Vanessa and Gregory aren’t good candidates for an exorbitant amount of reasons, pulling out an old antagonist is asking for trouble, and pulling out a new antagonist is a venture I wouldn’t trifle with if my life depended on it. Vanny has cemented a place in William’s ranks, she’s been hyped up as the new serial murderer on the block in terms of kid killers, and she has good stage presence even if she doesn’t really get to use it all that often. She’s our best shot. We NEED more of Vanny in future FNAF games. Desperately.

TL;DR: William keeps coming back and the childrens’ souls never get closure, meaning that every protagonist since FNAF 4 has been losing. If William is killed off, Vanny can’t replace him without some kind of workaround, but she’s still the best candidate to replace him.

[juniorgman187]

i ♡ u (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader and Spencer are trapped in the office during a storm. 

Category: Smut, Fluff Content Warning: cussing, unprotected sex/creampie, thunderstorm Word Count: 4.5k A/N: I don’t really like this imagine tbh so don’t be afraid to share your opinions

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“It was a dark and stormy night just like this one . . .” Reid said with a spooky voice. Thunder clapped in the distance and lightning flashed, adding to the mood of the room. Reid waited for your reaction, but you didn’t have it in you. You pressed your fingers to your temples, hoping that moving them in a circular motion would somehow stimulate your brain and magically generate logical thoughts that weren’t clouded by your weariness. 

“Sorry, Reid. I’m listening. Keep going.” You didn’t want to discourage him with your fatigue. You were the only one who would consistently give Reid the time of day, and you never faltered in that. At times, you were the only one who’d let him finish speaking.

“You usually love my campfire scary stories,” You knew without even looking at him that Reid was pouting out of disappointment. “I really think you should go home. I’ll call you if I find something or if I need you.”

“No, no you shouldn’t be working on this alone. I’ll be fine.” You slapped your cheeks gently to wake yourself up and forced yourself to refocus on the case. 

Hotch and JJ had to fulfill parenting duties, Prentiss was away doing a custodial interview for a couple days, Rossi and Morgan both went home a few hours ago because they could barely keep their eyes open, and Garcia was most likely knocked out in her bat cave. The team had been working on this case for 24+ hours straight and it was draining, but you weren’t about to leave Reid alone to work on it by himself. It wasn’t a contest or a way to prove that you were somehow a better agent if you stayed up working with him, but you genuinely didn’t feel right delegating all of the responsibility onto him. It happened too often where Reid’s good heart and great work ethic was taken advantage of. 

“Have you narrowed down the comfort zone?” You sipped at your lukewarm coffee, wincing at the unpleasant taste but grateful for any burst of energy you could get. 

Reid nodded, drawing a large red circle. He was in the middle of explaining when his words started sounding like complete nonsense. “Interstate 55 miles true North latitude triangulate.” 

You almost thought you were hallucinating or something to that effect, but Reid saw the genuine fear in your eyes and quit his prank. “No, you’re fine! You’re fine! I was just saying random words to play with you. I thought it’d scare you enough to realize you need to get some sleep.” 

“Reid!” You chucked a pen at him that he successfully dodged. This only made him laugh harder. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy.” You told him. 

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked seriously.

It was a huge red flag that it took you somewhere around a minute to come up with the answer since it had been so long that you couldn’t remember. You waved your hand in the air to rid him of his concerned expression. He had no reason to worry. “Really, I’ll be fine. It’s less dangerous to be running on less than 8 hours of sleep than it is to leave one person to solve an entire case by himself. I’m not going home, Reid. I’m here to stay.” 

He noticed your stubbornness and thought of a new approach to neutralize the situation. “What if you and I both call it a night right now and then wake up in a few hours?” 

Now, this sounded like a plan you could get behind. Without any resistance, you set an alarm for 5 a.m and flopped onto the couch just beside the round table. Reid joined you, slipping into his rightful spot behind you. You’d had plenty of platonic sleepovers that constituted sharing the same couch/bed with him, so this was nothing new. With your back barely touching Reid’s chest, you shut your eyes. It didn’t take more than ten minutes for both of you to drift off. 

BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP!

A loud blaring noise filled the room. It made you and Spencer wake up at the same time. 

“What is that?” His voice was all raspy from where he just woke up. 

The sound was weirdly familiar, but you didn’t know where you recognized it from. That’s when you looked out the nearest window and saw that it was still dark outside. 

“I don’t know, but it’s not our alarm.” You pointed out. That’s when Reid eyed the clock on the wall. 

3 a.m. 

You quickly felt around in the dark, reaching inside your purse for your phone. When you pulled it out, the ear-splitting noise got louder, making you realize it was your phone after all, but you were right. It wasn’t your alarm. 

“It’s just a flash flood warning.” You relayed to Reid, squinting at the brightness of your phone. No wonder Reid didn’t know what the sound was - his ancient phone didn’t have the feature. You grumbled, falling back onto the couch. 

“There’s no way I’m gonna fall back asleep after that.” He groaned. 

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I’m wide awake now.” Stupid flash flood warning. 

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes while Reid stretched and got up from the couch. Checking the notifications he’d gotten on his phone, he said, “Garcia left while we were asleep.” 

“And then there were two.” 

Everyone was probably catching z’s while you two were catching the killer - or trying to at least. 

So, if it was just going to be Reid’s brain and your brain functioning to work on the case, you needed some coffee. 

“I’ll be back.” You walked down to the kitchen with your mug in hand and just as you were about to grab the coffee pot, a huge flash of lightning struck outside and suddenly the office went dark. The lights went out and the gentle hum of the generator shut off.

“Spencer!” You screamed out of fear. You heard the pitter-patter of his footsteps rushing to you. That’s when you saw Spencer using his archaic phone’s flashlight to find his way to you. He pulled you into a quick hug asking if you were okay, and you answered you were fine, just spooked. When you came down to pour coffee, you didn’t remember seeing anyone else, but now your stomach turned thinking about how someone might be in here with you - listening to you.

“Take out your gun,” He whispered. You did as he ordered you to, pulling your gun out of the holster. “Turn on the flashlight.” You clicked it on and handed it over to him, remembering that he didn’t have a flashlight on his gun because he had a revolver. 

“Stay behind me.” He commanded. You moved back, basically hugging him from behind. You thought you were actually going to pass out from fear if you didn’t hold onto him for dear life. He did a quick pass with the flashlight, revealing no one else was in the bullpen unless they were hiding. 

BANG! BANG!

You yelped in fear. “It’s just the thunder, Y/N,” He reasoned, reminding you of the ongoing storm. Oh right, there was a thunderstorm happening, too. Great. “Here take this and go back to the conference room.” He gave you his revolver and kept your gun, ushering you to walk back to the round table. 

“What? Why? Where are you going?” Your small voice had never sounded so shaky. 

“I’m gonna check the power box and see if I can fix it.” 

Your first instinct was to shake your head disapprovingly, but then you remembered that he couldn’t see you in the dark. “No way! You’re not leaving me alone in a dark room. I’m coming with you.” 

He didn’t argue against it probably because he was just as scared as you were. Reid did another quick survey of the room, using the beam of your flashlight to double check that there was no one else around. 

As you clung to Reid, you made yourself sick just by thinking of all the horrifying possibilities that could happen. For all you knew, a whole group of unsubs was waiting for you at the power box, knowing you and Reid would check there as soon as the electricity went out. Would whatever happened to you two tonight become a campfire scary story that other FBI agents would talk about just like how you and Reid talk about them? The odds were not in your favor. No lights. Storm outside. 3 a.m. Just the two of you, and no offense to Reid, but if this were a horror movie, he was probably the last person you wanted to be with. Top of the list was easily Morgan, because at least if Morgan was scared shitless by the predicament, he wouldn’t show it.

While Reid led the two of you through the pitch black darkness, both of your hands were holding onto his upper arm. You’d taken cover behind him, poking your head past his shoulder just far enough to see what he was seeing but only so far that you could duck quickly if you needed to. Frankly, Spencer didn’t even seem to mind that you were clinging onto him for protection. It kind of made him feel good actually. 

When you reached the power box, you released your grip on him, only realizing just how tight you’d been clutching him when you saw imprints left on his shirt from where you’d been holding on. 

“Take this.” He handed you the flashlight while he used both of his hands to pry open the box. 

You watched as his fingers grazed over the wires and fiddled with the buttons. Would it be weird to admit that his hands were kind of attractive? You’d never realized the largeness of them or how veiny they were, but there was something about them that made them so sexy to you.

He made a disapproving sound after further inspection.

“What’s wrong?” You weren’t actually wondering, but if you asked him, it would seem like you were actually paying attention to the situation at hand and not his hands. 

“It looks like the power shut off from a larger source, meaning there could be a blackout citywide. That also means I can’t fix it.” 

Hearing you’d be in the dark with no heat source was enough to snap you out of your trance. 

“I have an idea.” You led Reid to Garcia’s bat cave, after a memory of Garcia showing you her collection of glow in the dark figurines replayed in your mind. 

When you opened the cabinet, you smiled instantly at the sight of all the toys brightly lighting up the inside of the drawer. You knew that spending hours with Garcia listening about her toy collection would pay off eventually. Both of you carried all the toys you could and headed right back into the conference room. You placed them sporadically so that the entire room was dimly lit. Had these been candles instead of luminescent toys, it would’ve been ambient and romantic, but again - they weren’t candles. 

Unintentionally, you shivered audibly when a loud wind crashed just outside. The generator went out along with the lights, so it was awfully cold in the room.

Reid was about to give you his sweater when you stopped him by walking right up to him and stealing his body heat in a hug. Rather than embracing him around his sweater, you snaked your arms under the cardigan to really feel his warmth. And as if Reid was trying to kill you with kindness, he pulled the sides of his sweater to stretch around your back and swaddled you into his sweater with him. You smiled against his chest. Not much could make this moment sweeter.

“Better now?” He asked, peering down at your face.

You silently nodded, closing your eyes as if removing your sense of sight would heighten your sense of touch. You wanted to feel his affection as deeply as you could. 

“Tell me when you want me to let go.” 

“Not yet.” 

He laughed at your childish desire to be swaddled like this, but he was enjoying the warmth just as much as you were. 

“We can’t do much work with the power out so let’s just try to get some more sleep.” He walked with you to the couch, keeping his promise of not letting go until you told him to. 

With the storm outside and the flash flood warning, you two would just have to stay in the conference room until you had the all clear. You weren’t opposed to this entirely, though. There were much worse things you could do than listen to the rain in the arms of Spencer Reid.

“Okay, you can let go now but just for a second.” Your baby voice made him chuckle. He loved how you unabashed you were when asking for his attention. Reid laid down just as he did before, with his back on the backrest of the couch, and instead of having your back to him, you cuddled right up to him. While still wearing his sweater, he covered you in it again, drawing you even closer. 

For some reason, even though you were beat and you knew you needed the sleep, you couldn’t seem to shut your mind off and rest. You were awake for what felt like hours. You would’ve tossed and turned all night, but instead, you kept very still so Reid wouldn’t wake up. 

You’d be so focused on trying to fall asleep yourself that you didn’t even notice when Reid did. When you looked up, you saw his mouth was slightly agape, his eyes were shut and would occasionally flutter, and when you pressed your ear to his chest, he was breathing much slower than he was earlier. 

“If you stay still for 15 minutes, you’ll fall asleep. Just lay in the same position and don’t move.” He mumbled. So he wasn’t asleep? And he knew you weren’t either?

“I have been staying still, but it’s not working.” You whined. 

“Just try.” Reid murmured again.

You shut up and sighed, closing your eyes. This time, you made a conscious effort not to move a muscle. You even counted to 60 in your head 15 times, but after those 15 minutes, you were still awake. You weren’t even sure what was causing your insomnia. It was really peaceful to have the sound of the rain cascading down the window and the occasional boom of thunder outside. Being in Spencer’s arms was cozy, too, but there was still something keeping you up. 

“Spencer? Are you awake?” You scooted up so you could see his face. 

The only thing the moon was illuminating clearly was his lips. There was a distinct beam of silver light casting on his mouth, almost like it was lighting them up specifically. Like some sort of sign. A sudden urge possessed you, so without reason, you brought your hand up to his face and grazed your thumb over his bottom lip. Even with the gentle touch you were using, you were still able to feel how soft it was. You slowly dragged your thumb in a downwards motion, watching the elasticity of his lips cause it to bounce back up into its place. You nearly giggled at the sight. You moved your thumb to the corner of his mouth and followed it upwards to the natural curve of his upper lip. If you weren’t so observant before, you wouldn’t have noticed how Spencer very subtly parted his lips wider for you. Curiosity overcame you and you slowly inched closer to his mouth with your own.

“I think I want to kiss you . . . Can I kiss you?” You spoke in a soft voice, with each of your lips ghosting over his. 

A moment of stillness. Maybe he was asleep. Then, a small, very small nod of Reid’s head. You smiled as he let you take control. With your hand already along his jaw, you lifted his face slightly so you could feel the full force of your kiss. You pulled him in closer to relish the soft feeling of his puckered lips. He released his grip on the sweater that was still swaddling you so he could press the small of your back, forcing your hips to drive into his. The need to be even closer was translating into the kiss. It grew hungrier - more passionate and needy. Spencer raised up from the couch, propping himself up on his forearm so he could hover over you. You followed his lead and shifted to be underneath him. With his body over you, he was able to push off his forearms and onto his hands. They were on either side of your head, forcing you to sit up with him so your lips wouldn’t leave his. 

“Wait, wait,” He muttered, pulling away. You followed him with your mouth is desperation, until you couldn’t anymore, making you sit up entirely while Spencer backed away. 

“What’s wrong?”

“If we don’t stop now, I don’t know if I can stop later . . . I won’t be able to control myself.” 

It was in this moment you realize why you were often the only member on the team who’d actually listen to Reid. Nothing he could say would ever turn you off. Any word that escaped his lips was something you wanted to hear. His confession of being uncontrollable was no exception. 

“Do you know what I want to do?” There was a newfound confidence in your tone that shocked the both of you. 

“What do you want to do, Y/N?” Apparently, Spencer’s tone was just the opposite. He sounded like he was trembling with fear with anticipation. 

“Guess.” You flirted. 

Even in the dark, you could see Reid’s gears turning as he tried to find the right answer. He read your expression for a hint and made his guess by planting a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You’re cold.” 

He quickly caught on. You were making a game out of this. 

Hot and cold.

Reid made his next move with uncertainty. He slowly started moving forward to resume the position he had before he pulled away. As he came closer, you followed his lead and leisurely fell back. Every inch he would advance closer to you was an inch that you’d move back further until finally your back was pressed against the couch again and Spencer was hanging over you once more. With each of his hands beside your head, you smirked. “Getting warmer.”

This boosted his confidence. He was heading the right direction, and there was nothing Spencer loved more than to get things right. 

The same moonlight that was streaming onto his lips earlier was dancing on his eyes. The hazel color glimmered in the silver light. You could see they were asking, ‘Can I?’ You answered his look with a silent nod. 

Spencer reached behind him, following his hand with his eyes as he watched his fingers brush along your thigh. Looking back up at you for permission, which you granted, he peered back down, watching his fingers slip underneath the hem of your skirt. You lifted your hips up so he could raise the skirt all the way up. As if he was uncovering lost treasure, his eyes lit up when you were finally uncovered. 

“Fuck me.” He cursed under his breath. This made you ooze with confidence. 

You sat up to align your lips right beside his ear. With a breathy voice, you whispered, 

“Hot.”

He’d finally figured out what you wanted. 

The satisfaction he had in winning your little game gave him the confidence he needed to finally make a move. 

Hurriedly, he dragged your panties off, leaving prominent scratches from his nails on your thighs. He threw them somewhere behind him, while you frantically unbuttoned his dress pants. You almost giggled with glee when you saw just how hard he was. You barely did anything to provoke him, but he clearly enjoyed what little you did do. 

“I don’t have a -” You cut him off with a hasty kiss. 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You needn’t explain more. He got the message when you reached down and gave his shaft a few shallow strokes.

“Oh-” He was immediately caught off guard by your forwardness. “Wait, wait shouldn’t I . . . um, help you first-”

You smiled at his stutter. “Spencer, please. I need you now.” 

There was that unabashed ask for Spencer’s attention that he loved so much. He made small movements until he was properly aligned with your entrance. 

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.” He breathlessly uttered, while gradually pushing in.

You thought you would’ve regretted not letting him finger you before in preparation but the bliss was far greater for some reason. 

The sensation was definitely new to Spencer when his eyes widened. “Oh fuck. You’re so tight.” 

Meanwhile, your face contorted at the feeling of him stretching you out. It was actually more painful than pleasurable. 

“Wait, Spencer - I need to change positions.” You panted. 

He instantly retracted, looking incredibly sorry. “Here,” He helped you up to your feet while taking a seat on the couch. You didn’t need an IQ of 187 to figure out how to position yourself, so you straddled Spencer, hovering over his erection. Taking charge now that you knew you’d feel more comfortable like this, you reached below you to align his length. Instantly, euphoria washed over you when you lowered yourself all the way until you were practically sitting on his lap. Spencer let out a heavy exhale now that you were able to take all of him in this new position. You moved your hands out from under you and put them on Spencer’s shoulders as a way to stabilize you each time you’d come up. After a few cursory movements, you found a comfortable pace. Spencer couldn’t contain himself, he had to grab your hips in his hands and buck up before, his pelvis meeting your ass before you could even fully lower yourself again. With the tempo of motion increasing drastically because of Spencer’s participation, you couldn’t even adjust to his length anymore. Every time he’d pull out was temporary relief for the ever-growing knot forming in your stomach. You bit back a moan when Spencer curled his hips to thrust into you at a different angle. This stroke mercilessly hit that knot in your stomach, forcing a strangled noise out. 

“Don’t stop, Spencer!” You were surprised at how you were even able to put together a cohesive sentence since your brain felt like it was short circuiting. 

With Spencer’s curved thrusts, the knot in your stomach grew bigger and bigger. You even felt yourself clench around Spencer. He felt it, too and his head instantly lolled back in pleasure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head with him. Your skin felt prickly as sweat started dripping from your forehead. If you didn’t know any better, the generator was working again because the heat in the room was thick. Spencer’s strokes were growing slower in anticipation. You picked up the pace for him and made a conscious clench around him to help him reach his peak. 

“I can’t control myself, Y/N. I need to pull out now.” He sputtered.

You made an indistinct noise that communicated your disapproval. It was the only thing Spencer needed to hear to know that it was okay if he came. 

“Cum for me, baby.” You moaned, knowing you were going to follow close behind. 

He dug his nails into your hips, bringing you back to reality as if it was his way of pinching you to tell you it was real. From the pain of his hands clawing into you, you almost couldn’t feel him coming, until you felt it dribble down your inner thigh. Suddenly, it felt like his warm essence made electricity surge through your body and course through your veins. With a speed faster than light itself, the knot in your stomach released. You cried out as his seed mixed with your own and cascaded down like the relentless rain outside cascaded down the window. The euphoria of your orgasm brought you to a complete stop. 

“Holy fuck.” You swallowed hard. The inside of your mouth was dry from where it hung open for so long. 

Spencer was at a loss for words. His silence was so unfamiliar you had to giggle. 

“You okay?” You lifted yourself off of his lap to gain some clarity. He gulped hard. 

“Am I dreaming?” He sounded genuinely dazed and confused, it was adorable. 

Garcia’s glow in the dark toys helped you to find a box of tissues. You took one from the box and wiped yourself before pulling your skirt back down. Meanwhile, Spencer zipped up his pants and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Spencer,” You laughed a little. “You’re scaring me. Are you okay?”

He hadn’t changed his spot on the couch so you straddled his lap again, this time with more pure intentions.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck, while his hands rested on your hips again and his lips were pressing on your shoulder, leaving quick pecks. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confessed against your skin. You leaned back so you could see his face and kept your hands behind his head to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. Enjoying your soothing touch, he closed his eyes and tilted his head to lay against your wrist. He was so precious like this. With Spencer’s head cocked to the side, a distinct beam of light was revealed. This time it was shining onto your face, almost like what it feels like when you accidentally walk past a projector screen and look at the projector light. In this instance though, the light wasn’t nearly as blinding. It was soft and ethereal. It lit up the rain falling on the other side of the window. It even displayed signs of steam coming from the inside. You could see condensation running down the pane. It had gotten so hot in here because of you two that steam was produced. That felt like some sort of accomplishment. You mirthlessly chuckled and leaned forward. With this sudden movement, your chest was pressing against Spencer’s. He was forced to lift his head back up from your wrist when he wanted to examine what you were doing. You leaned past the backrest of the couch and exhaled a hot breath onto the window to make it fog up. Spencer watched you do this over his shoulder, trying to figure out what you were doing. With the glass fogged up, you started drawing a heart with your index finger. You lazily shaded in the heart and looked back at Spencer to show off your creation. It wasn’t pretty by any means, but it meant something. 

Spencer pulled a hand away from your hip to use his fingers to add to the drawing. To the left of the heart, Spencer drew a vertical line with a dot above it, and then to the right of it he drew a small horseshoe shape. You pouted your lips when you finally got the message. 

i ♡ u

You looked at him before blowing another hot breath onto the already existing fog to extend it. You drew a number right beside it. 

i ♡ u 2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. CII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

The Bad Joke and The Scoobynatural

(13x14/13x15)

Hello there!!! This time I'm gonna talk about one of the most OOC episodes ever and one of our favs episodes Scoobynatural. I put them together bc one was so bad I needed some fresh air. Hehehehe.

Let's start!

So OOC that hurts...

Episode 13x15 "A Most Holly Man" was written by Dabb but also by Robert Singer.

This episode was odd, with easy bad jokes, and OOC. It also had Wincest subtext, and it was very messy.

If you rewatch the entire season, this episode seems to be out of context. If they've wouldn't put the search for the element they needed for the spell, it could have been passed as an episode from another show.

I could write more criticism, but let's just talk about little pieces of dialogue that worked as clues, I'm very sure it were put by Dabb (even if I dislike his writing) more than Singer.

The three elements the gangsters wanted to get were:

Incense: Is used by christian rituals to elevate prayers and gifts from the parishioners to God. This could be speaking of Chuck coming in the next season.

Chalice: The chalice represents sacrifice for christianity. The Holt Blood of Jesus Christ that have his life for humanity. So, is talking about a future huge sacrifice. It could be taken for Dean and his Mal'ak box or Castiel in 15x18.

Skull: it's related to death, and it could be speaking of Mary Winchester death in season 14.

Another little take from this episode was this little piece of dialogue:

MARGARET: Oh, don’t thank me yet. Greenstreet has all the trappings of a gentleman, but… I would advise caution.

Okay subtle, but not that much. The last name is a combination of two words GREEN and STREET, it's obviously related to Dean, and the quote after this 'has all the trappings is a gentleman, but... I would advise caution." It's obviously talking about AUMichael!Dean.

A brief comment about the Wincest subtext... We had Sam flirting with Margaret and Dean showing signs of jealousy, it could be taken as annoyance, but, because is Singer involved, I would say it was intentionally written to be Wincest subtext. And after this we had Dean flirting... Super out of character, with a brunette... With a lame excuse... Unnecessary. But it worked to make this time Sam the jealous one. Connecting the drops, my dears...

Dean has faith again and the distracting rubbing lips...

In this episode we can also rescue another good points as Dean declaring he has faith. Remember at the beginning of the season he was lost and faithless, I ask myself what could happen to make Dean to recover his faith???

Oh yes, Cas is back.

Then the rubbing lips... We had the same gesture from Cas in the previous episode, so, I wrote two entire metas about how Dabb team used the hands to show foreshadow. So I truly thought Dean and Cas would kiss... Hehehehe. It could fit perfectly, but nah.

This episode also talked about how a priest, a righteous, a saint man, was trying to get the most precious thing for his community.

Trying to get back the most important thing he had, willing to make any sacrifice for it, it's the same would lead Dean to say 'yes' to Michael. When Lucifer kidnaps Sam and Jack.

(This could be just nice because family, and because Dean raised Sam, so Sam represents a son and such, but, because is Singer... Wincest again.)

Another piece of dialogue I found is the following...

FATHER LUCCA: (...)And what your brother’s doing, it’s a good thing.

DEAN: Yeah, or a stupid thing.

FATHER LUCCA: Or both. Many times, they can be the same.

This is telling Castiel's name, Because Dean is always asking him not to do stupid things.

Another foreshadow was Father Lucca talking about Lying is wrong, is a sin. This was the preamble to one of the most revealing episode that will bring Chuck back. The episode in which Jack erase the ability of telling lies in the whole world population.

Dean's cave meaning and visual narrative.

Episode 13x16 was full of symbolism, and is one of my fav episodes.

At first, we had Dean fighting against a huge green dinosaur, practically a monster in green. Just like the Squirrel/Godzilla in one t-shirt we'll see in episode 14x04, is representing DEAN, his inner photography of himself. He sees himself as a monster.

Everytime we see SCOOBY-DOO in Supernatural, it's related to Dean's innocence and purity. Those qualities on him will be the key to release him from his emotional prison in season 14.

Visual Narrative in Dean's cave

Let's talk about the Dean's cave. When Dean says to Sam "Be like Elsa, let it be," he's referring here to the most deepest feelings and fears. Elsa released what she had tried to repress her entire life, her powers. And once she accepted what she really was, she was really free.

This will happen to Dean too, the process had just started. Now that he got Cas back, and now that deep inside he had accepted he can't live without the angel, he will slowly be able to embrace his bisexuality, to accept who he really is. The climax of this metamorphosis it's gonna be describer through the whole season 14. It's the birth of Healing!Dean.

Dean's cave represents that. First of all I want you to know that the Dean's cave had been made to watch movies with Castiel. It's subtextually displayed by the location of the two couches and the color of the lights in front of them: RED AND BLUE. Those are Dean and Castiel's places. That place had been built to share time with his angel.

Gif credit @out-in-the-open

Fred and Daphne were Dean's bisexuality representation.

Mostly than Dean having a crush over the two characters (openly with Daphne and repressed over Fred) both characters were representing Dean's bisexuality (just like Pamela and himself in Rocky's bar and his friend and the waitress in 15x07).

When they had to team up (just like in 14x04) we had Sam and Vilma represented the insight, the intelligence. (Just like Sam and Sam). Castiel pairing up with Yaggy and Scooby, the innocence and the talking dog, the most precious thing for Dean. (Remember Dean would take a bullet for that dog, that's why Cas was compared several times in season 12 with a dog, and that's why Dean follows him anywhere to keep him safe after suffering his lost).

Gif set credit @gentleman-demon

Finally, the bisexual team Dean with Fred and Daphne. In one opportunity Dean asks Daphne what does she sees in a man. Without mentioning she loves ascots, what this symbolically represents is Dean asking to his female side what she really likes to see in man. And we have Fred related to blue color, as a switch mirror with Castiel. Also because Daphne describes the perfect man as STRONG AND HONEST. Which are characteristics related to Castiel.

Castiel's entrance a la 4x01 and the dinosaur in love

Castiel enters in the mansion the same way he did in 4x01, stormy, mysteriously, and bright.

Immediately after his entrance, we had this weird dialogue...

DEAN: It's a book we're writing. Yeah, about...killer stuffed dinosaurs. It's called...

CASTIEL: "The Killer Stuffed Dinosaur in Love."

FRED: Huh. Great title.

SCOOBY: Yeah. Great title.

"It's a book we are writing " this is very meaningful Because, the book they're writing despite the one Chuck is writing, is Team Free Will, but... We are talking about DESTIEL. Dean and Cas are writing their own story... Why? Because when they mention the title of that book is... The KILLER (Do you remember REGARDING DEAN? another brief appearence of Scooby Doo and Dean's innocence? In which Rowena told him he was a killer? So yes, Dean sees himself as a killer, that's why the image of a monster, a green DINOSAUR, and huge Godzilla Squirrel... But this KILLER GREEN DINOSAUR has a very important characteristic HE IS IN LOVE. DEAN IS IN LOVE, as he confessed in 14x12.

Do I have to explain how writers connect d Castiel's first entrance in 4x01 with this book they're writing as they go? The book is named DESTIEL.

Jealous!Castiel and the little scared ghost boy

I loved the scene in which Daphne freshly confesses Dean grabbed the ghost by the thigh and immediately Cas shows his jealousy over that.

Gif set credit @tearsofgrace

But There's another almost at the end of the episode in which Dean mentions his affair with the Cartwright Twins and Cas asks about that, and Dean's face is priceless. Because if CAS would just represent a friend to him, he were absolutely explaining to him what happened with those twins, but he didn't. Why? Because Castiel is not just a friend. Castiel is Dean's love interest. So... Better not to talk about it.

Gif set credit @sssssssim

But let's jump over the symbolism of the trapped child ghost.

BOY: I'm not. I never wanted to hurt anyone. But the bad man, he makes me.

CASTIEL: The bad man?

BOY: His name is Jay.

I want to point here we are inside of Dean's head as you've noticed so far, so... Velma is Dean's intelligence and reason, and is linked with Sam (just like in episode 14x04 in which we had the scooby-doo box opening the locked door). Yaggy and Scooby are the innocence and love, part of Dean and linked to Castiel. And Daphne and Fred are Dean's bisexuality. But There's another huge character inside of him THE MONSTER. The monster, the one he has to defeat, is represented by JOHN WINCHESTER'S TOXIC HERITAGE AND AUMICHAEL, they're part of his toxicity, his rage, his violence. The little ghost here is all the good inside of Dean, his childhood, his innocence, but the bad man who obligates him to kill, it's his inner monster. So this is a war between TOXIC!DEAN and HEALING!DEAN as we will see in season 14.

BOY: When I died, my soul was tied to a pocketknife. My dad gave it to me. It meant everything. When Jay found me, he used me to...Sometimes, I get so angry I break things, hurt people.

John Winchester's toxic heritage implies the GUILT. So, Dean's soul is tied to that GUILT. Jay represents AUMichael here, when AUMichael finds this tool, the guilt, he uses it against Dean to control him. The boy says he gets angry, he breaks things and hurts people. He's describing perfectly Dean's toxicity. His violence. We will see it in this season but also, at the end of season 14.

To Conclude:

In episode 13x15 we had a very OOC bad episode, but with a few clues for foreshadows.

Episode 13x16 was a travel through Dean's innocence, inner thoughts and repressed feelings. It's a preamble to Healing!Dean season and how Dean will be able to break free from his emotional prison, defeating his inner monster.

Hope you liked this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996 @lisafu02 @asphodelesauvage @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh

If you want to be added or removed from this list just let me know.

If you wanna read the previous metas from season 13 here you have the links...

Vol. XCIII, XCIV, XCV, XCVI, XCVII, XCVIII, XCIX, C, CI.

Buenos Aires, February 28 2020, 2:23 PM

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Nine: Wanna Bet?

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,713

Content Warnings: Risque content. Alcohol. ;;))

MASTERLIST

~

The man’s name was Benicio “Benny” Sallow. He worked at a seven-eleven near the restaurant. He had seen you and Spencer leave the restaurant, clocked out, and followed you for a few blocks with the intent to steal your purse and his wallet. Apparently, he wasn’t even planning on injuring you, just using the knife as leverage. 

So the killer was still out there, presumably keeping very close by, according to Spencer. It took you a while to explain why that didn’t make you feel any better.

The day after the incident, you’d had to go back to Quantico to be briefed. It was getting tiring having to go back and forth all the time. But you supposed it was good to be kept in the loop.

Now, you were confined to your apartment 24/7. Groceries now had to be delivered, Spencer answering the door each time, gun in hand, exchanging a verbal password with the delivery person.

Sure, it was safer, but the danger felt even more real now. Luckily, your protector was taking extreme measures to keep you distracted.

“Now throw it!” he shouted, prompting you to chuck the pillow towards the empty trash can, now on the third round of a game Spencer had dubbed “pillowball”. 

It landed just shy of the basket and you groaned as Spencer laughed.

“Oh, I’d like to see you do better, glasses,” you teased, shoving him another pillow.

“I don’t even wear glasses anymore!”

“Just throw the pillow, dork.”

He reared back, squinting, looking all around. You had to stifle a laugh as you pictured little mathematical equations floating through the air around his head.

And he threw the pillow, soaring through the air towards the basket and . . .

. . . landed on a shelf just above the basket, knocking over a broom.

“Ha!” you jumped on the couch, jostling the broom. “Might wanna get your eyes checked again.”

“Sure about that?” he said, a little too cocky.

Your face fell, looking at the pillow. As you had sat on the couch, you’d made the broom hit the wall, making the shelf move, tipping over a large book that bumped the pillow. It fell forward and landed perfectly in the basket.

Awestruck, you looked at Spencer and he bowed low, shooting you a mischievous look.

“Lucky shot,” you said, forcefully switching your facial expression to an unimpressed one.

“Oh come on!” he whined, sitting across from you on the couch. “That was cool, don’t deny it.”

“There was no way you could’ve known I was gonna sit and knock the broom!”

“Couldn’t I have?”

“No!”

“You know,” he took the pillow from the basket and turned it over in his hands, “jealousy usually manifests itself in denial.”

“Hey! I am not jealous!”

“I mean even though you’re not capable of a shot like that, there’s no reason to be jealous,” he gave you a sidelong glance, slight smile on his lips.

“Not capable?”

“Well, you aren’t!”

“Wanna bet?”

Having to prove him wrong, you snatched up your pillow and went back to the doorway.

“Bet? Y/N, I’m from Vegas. I never lose a bet. You might want to think twice about that challenge.”

“If I don’t make this shot, I’ll watch that five-hour long movie that you won’t stop talking about.”

All of the cockiness was wiped from Spencer’s face.

“You’ll watch Solaris with me?”

“If I fail this shot, I will,” you said, smiling at the fact that he’d added ‘with me’ to the odds. 

“What if you make it?”

A wicked smile spread across your face.

“If I make it, we pop open the 20 year Jim Beam I've got in the cabinet.”

Spencer unconsciously glanced at the kitchen cupboard, then shook his head.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N. Becoming intoxicated could lower inhibitions, making us less aware of—“

“—so you admit it’s a possibility I make the shot?”

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it, shooting you a frustrated look.

You held out your hand for him to shake, knowing he despised handshakes.

“C’mon, Mister Vegas. I thought you never lose a bet?”

His eyebrows twitched but the hint of a smile ghosted over his face.

“Deal,” he said, shaking your hand, only slightly twitching at the contact. 

Sparing a quick glance at the ceiling, then the clock, you threw the pillow towards the basket, but it missed, landing just to the right on the arm of the couch.

Spencer beamed. 

“Oh, well. I hope your study for that linguistics doctorate involves Russian. Great try, but like I said, I never lose.”

You cocked your head.

“Sure about that?”

A whirring noise caught his attention, turning towards the air vent right over the bedroom door. The gust caught the pillow and pushed it forward, making it land right in the basket. Spencer’s jaw dropped.

“Landlord always clicks on the A.C. at 8:25 on the dot.”

As you bragged, you walked over to the kitchen cabinet, standing on your toes to reach the bottle of bourbon and bringing it back to the couch where Spencer sat.

“How . . .”

“Face it, Vegas, you lost. Now, drink up!”

You took a swig from the bottle and handed it to him. 

“We really shouldn’t—“

“Spencer.” All joking gone from your tone, you stared at him, silently begging. “Please. I need to feel . . . something else.”

Waiting a moment to speak, presumably going through possible outcomes and scenarios in his head, he finally sighed and took the bottle from you, pressing it to his lips and drinking.

As expected though, he proceeded to cough heavily, handing the bottle back to you.

“Jeez! You made it look so easy.”

You laughed, taking another drink.

“Years of practice.”

“Years?”

Shit. He definitely knew you weren’t that far from drinking age, making the word years rather compromising.

“Not years per se.”

“Uh-huh,” he said sarcastically, taking the bottle from you and downing the smallest sip so as not to cough. “You know, alcohol might actually help you get through Solaris. If we’re going to be living together for a while I will make you watch it.”

You paused, trying to clock what he meant by ‘living together’.

“I am not watching that movie willingly. How ‘bout double or nothing?”

Intrigued, he watched you carefully, moving to sit on his legs.

“Go on. . . .”

You smiled, getting more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m gonna make an assumption, and if it’s true, you drink. If it’s not, I drink.”

“Is that a Game of Thrones reference?” 

Shocked, you nodded.

“Doctor Reid, I’m surprised.” Then, thinking about his love for Doctor Who, Doyle, and strange sci-fi films like Solaris, you figured you should have seen this coming. “Actually, not all that surprised. So yes! It is a Game of Thrones reference and I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.”

“I think you’re forgetting, I’m an FBI profiler. It’s my job to read people.”

“So you accept my challenge?” You jumped up, grabbed two glasses, and sat back down, pouring the bourbon into each glass evenly, handing one to Spencer.

After thinking a moment, he took the glass and said, “I do. Provided I get to go first.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to go.

“You . . . have a complicated relationship with your parents.”

Scoffing, you said, “Seriously? Everyone has a complicated relationship with their parents! Thought you were a big shot profiler.” And you took a small sip.

“I’m starting off easy,” he said, reclining a bit more and stretching out his legs towards you. “Your go.”

“You . . . you were bullied in high school.”

He shrugged and took a drink.

“You don’t join the FBI without some childhood trauma,” he said it so casually but there was something more in his tone that he couldn’t hide. That no one could.

“My turn,” he said, pulling you away from your thoughts. Right. That was the goal of all this. Distraction.

“Go,” you said, sitting up and moving a bit closer.

“So,” he said, gazing around your apartment and swirling the liquid in his glass, “there’s no photographs in your apartment, at least none that I’ve seen. But you’re not unsentimental judging by your attachment to the locket that was stolen from you. So you just don’t have any photographs to hang up.”

“I’m not hearing an assumption, Doctor.”

“You don’t have a lot of friends. Probably only a few close ones that you rarely get to see.”

Normally, if someone commented on your lack of friends, you’d lash out and walk away, probably calling them various unkind names. But when Spencer said it, there wasn’t any judgment. Only sympathy. Like he knew exactly what not having a lot of friends felt like.

It was true, you didn’t have a lot of friends. The only person you really considered to be a friend was Steve, and you hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. You wondered if he was worried about you suddenly cutting off contact, staying home from school and work. You wondered if he even noticed.

So you took a sip, smiling sadly at Spencer. And he smiled back. Neither of you had to say anything else about it.

“Alright, get ready to get drunk.” 

He snorted at you, alcohol starting to affect him.

“Guess away, I’m an open book.”

“You, Spencer Reid,” he laughed a little when you said his name, dropping his head to the back of the couch. “You . . . cannot handle your alcohol.”

He giggled, raising his glass to his lips but you stopped him.

“Ah! That wasn’t my assumption. I was just making an astute observation. Now, as I was saying. My assumption is . . . you are a virgin.”

He was struck, clearly not expecting such a personal guess. You waited for him to drink, but instead he just stared at you. Then, he blushed, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck, still not making any move to drink.

Aw. Maybe you’d crossed a line. Maybe he was embarrassed by the fact that—

Wait. 

He still wasn’t drinking, just looking at you sheepishly, like he was waiting for something.

Waiting for you to drink.

So you did, keeping eye-contact with him the whole time, watching as he fidgeted nervously.

Your assumption had been wrong. Interesting.

~

A/N:  ;)

~

@aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @eu-solidao

[mst3kproject]

The Astral Factor

This movie has a great deal to offer the MSTie. It was written by Arthur C. Pierce, who did the same job on The Human Duplicators, and it can boast the presences of Leslie Parrish of The Giant Spider Invasion, Frank Ashmore of Parts: the Clonus Horror, and Rayford Barnes from Mitchell.  The premise is ludicrous but presented with a perfectly straight face, and the whole thing just oozes 70’s-ness.

Roger Sands is a man of many talents, the most important of which for our purposes is his ability to become invisible in a shower of disco sparkles.  This allows him to escape from prison, argue with his mother’s ghost (who apparently throws bangin’ parties in the afterlife) and go on a killing spree. The cops know who they’re hunting because he’s left fingerprints all over the place, but they have no idea how he’s moving around unseen.  Fortunately, the prison psychologist knows some psychics who might be able to help them out… but will they be in time to save the various celebrities Sands is stalking, women who remind him of his own neglectful mother?

The main impression one gets from The Astral Factor is that it’s a parade of clichés.  The first victim is killed in a bubble bath.  Chuck the detective gets dragged out of bed to come investigate the case, which makes his girlfriend pout because she was hoping for sex. The killer is obsessed with his mother. Dogs and birds can sense Sands’ presence when he’s invisible.  Chuck’s girlfriend is a terrible cook.  That sort of thing.  None of this needs to kill a movie, of course… clichés become clichés because they work.

Much worse for the movie is that it isn’t very interested in its characters.  Sands’ backstory is that his mother was a movie star who thought it would ruin her career if it came out that she’d been briefly married and pregnant at the age of seventeen.  She therefore distanced herself from him, leaving him feeling unwanted and invisible (insert giant blinking neon sign that says METAPHOR) until he finally got fed up and strangled her.  This isn’t a bad setup for a movie’s serial killer, but the narrative doesn’t do much with it.  Sands has a list of women he wants to murder, but we never find out what makes them good potential victims beyond simply being famous blondes.  Surely there should be some moment of recognition, some sin they’ve each committed against their own families, but apparently ‘famous and blonde’ should be enough.

Opposed to Sands is, of course, Chuck the detective. He comes across as kind of a jerk but he does seem to love his empty-headed girlfriend Candy.  I think his arc is meant to be that he starts off skeptical of the paranormal but is eventually forced to believe, but this is pretty badly mishandled – when the prison psychiatrist talks about Sands’ interest in psychic phenomena, Chuck seems bored rather than disbelieving, and when a man demonstrates telekinesis in front of him, he accepts it but looks entirely unimpressed.  He never seems to be really affected by the phenomena he encounters.  Instead of a man whose worldview is shaken to the core, Chuck appears to be merely annoyed that this is yet another thing he has to deal with.

The other possible arc Chuck has is that Candy suggests he get a job with ‘normal hours’ so that she no longer has to make coffee for his co-workers when they come to tell him about a murder in the middle of the night.  He says he’ll think about it, but there’s no follow-up.

Finally, there’s Christine, the potential victim that we’re supposed to get attached to and worry about.  She’s a spoiled trophy wife who hangs around in her mansion drinking while her husband, who lost all interest in her once she turned thirty, is out of town.  The problem with her is that she doesn’t have much by way of a personality. In one scene she’s grateful for the cops protecting her, in the next she’s telling them to piss off and let her go shopping in peace, and then suddenly she’s sobbing in her room.  Are these supposed to be mood swings?  It feels more like neither the writers nor the actress cared enough to figure out who she is.

I guess that brings us to the movie’s misogyny, which is as rich and gooey as the inside of a lava cake but does not taste like chocolate.  First of all, Sands’ problems are said to be his mother’s fault – she abandoned him, leaving him no choice but to murder women who remind him of her!  The prison psychologist specifically absolves Sands of responsibility for his own crimes.  He cannot be reformed, he cannot be helped, he must be locked up because his mother’s selfishness (more interested in her own career than in raising her son) destroyed his mind.  Never mind that there are people with neglectful or even abusive parents who don’t grow up to be serial killers.

The women Sands kills are celebrities – models, dancers, actresses, socialites – because they remind him of his fame-obsessed mother.  But as I previously mentioned, they’re not really all that like her.  We don’t see any signs of any of them having families they neglect.  The only one who even seems to have a husband is Christine and it’s him who neglects her.  Perhaps the point is supposed to be that Sands has misjudged them, but we don’t see any signs of them being better than his mother in this respect, either.  Most of them seem to have avoided children in order to focus on their careers.  Perhaps in the mind of a male writer in the 70’s, this is itself a sin.

Certainly the movie is not interested in these women as characters.  I’ve already discussed Christine, but there are others.  The first one comes home, takes a bath, and dies.  The second one is working on a painting when her dog runs off – she chases it, and she and the dog both die.  The third is the dancer at her rehearsal.  She has the creeps for no reason, does her rehearsal, and dies. The emphasis is always on their bodies: they’re sexy, then they’re dead.  The sequence with the dancer is particularly weird, with her male partner representing the devil dressed in some kind of bondage getup.

The most frustrating thing about The Astral Factor, though, is that it really doesn’t know what to do with its premise.  It keeps bringing up interesting ideas about what a psychic murderer might be able to do, and then just drops them.

The opening scene, in which Sands escapes from jail after telekinetically beating up his cellmate with furniture, seems to promise us a much more exciting movie than we get.  After escaping, Sands visits the cemetery and his heart-to-heart with ghost mom is interrupted by a security guard. Sands uses his powers to push the guy into an open grave and bury him alive!  I wanted to see more of this kind of thing, but after that Sands seems to forget he can do anything besides the ‘becoming invisible’ thing.  Later victims are either beaten or strangled, as if they were killed by some loser who doesn’t have any psychic powers.  Perhaps he has to strangle the women because that’s how he killed his mother, but he does the same thing to bodyguards and boyfriends when we know he has more creative means at his disposal.

The rest of the movie is also at odds with the title, which suggested this would be a movie in which Sands sits in jail the whole time, astral-projecting himself into his victims’ homes to strangle them. This idea is discussed, but it is in no way what happens so I’m not sure why they brought it up.  There are a couple of reasonably effective scenes, as when it’s implied that Sands is invisible inside his first victim’s apartment but we can’t be absolutely sure until he starts interacting with objects.  The bit where the dancer is strangled onstage and people don’t intervene because they think it’s part of the show… that’s another cliché but it works all right.

The Astral Factor also has no interest in how psychic powers work.  They’re shown to require great concentration for the guy demonstrating them at the institute, but Sands seems to throw things around effortlessly.  Why is that?  Where did he get these powers?  Just by reading about them?  Can anybody learn to do this or just certain people?  If the latter, what makes Sands special?

In trying to catch his invisible killer, Chuck shows very little creativity.  I can think of a bunch of ways to try to thwart an invisible man.  What about filling a room with mist or smoke?  What about scattering flour on the floor to show his footprints? What about physical tripwires? None of these are ever suggested. Nor does anybody ever come up with the idea of fighting back psychically.  If anybody can learn these powers, that could have been a cool thing for Chuck to have to do – not only come to terms with the fact that this exists, but having to figure out how to do it himself!  Or if only special people can do it, why not hire one of those psychics the scientists were working with?  If a parrot knows there’s an invisible man there, surely another psychic could figure it out!

The way they do eventually catch Sands is by having Christine speak to him as if she is his mother, which prompts him to reply, and the sound of his voice tells the cops where to aim their guns.  This works, but it’s not nearly as interesting as some of the other possibilities and does not reveal anything new about Sands himself.

Watching people get ‘strangled’ by something invisible is always fun, and The Astral Factor has a couple of really funny special effects (I especially like the cellmate pretending to be in a fight with his mattress), but mostly the movie is a disappointment.  It had potential to be way scarier and way more fun if it were willing to explore its premise a little more deeply, but all it really wants to show us is blonde women getting killed.

[bluecrusadearcade]

Harrison Osterfield is not your regular irregular

By Baker Street, Gentleman’s Journal quizzes the star of Netflix’s new drama on world records, Sherlock Holmes and his golf swing…

Draped in a silk shirt and paisley scarf, Harrison Osterfield is shivering his way across a brisk Regent’s Park. But he’s not complaining. Why would he? After all, the 24-year-old has dealt with worse. In his latest television series alone — Netflix’s The Irregulars — he’s tussled with demonic crows, paranormal serial killers and even the occult. So a little nip in the air? Nothing to worry about.

“I do have my eye on that jumper, though,” beams Osterfield from behind a bold pair of sunglasses. I don’t blame him. It’s a chunky-knit, funnel-neck number from Connolly, and the next piece of clothing lined up for this al fresco photoshoot. But, for now, the young actor must grit his chattering teeth — and continue striking willowy poses in that billowy shirt.

And those poses are turning heads. Dog-walkers, taxi drivers and tourists are all picking up on Osterfield’s energy; a coolly British blend of big grins and bouncy enthusiasm. He swings from a lamppost! He dances through daffodils! He feeds the pigeons! NW1 hasn’t seen this much action in months…

And we’ve come to Regent’s Park for obvious reasons; Baker Street snakes down from its south-west corner. And, on that famous thoroughfare, sits the fictional digs of Sherlock Holmes. But The Irregulars, a supernatural-tinged drama named for Holmes’ gang of trusty street informants, wasn’t shot in London. Rather, it was filmed on the authentically old streets of Sheffield and Liverpool — the same cobbles walked by the Peaky Blinder boys. So this, Osterfield grins, is a fun opportunity to see the real thing.

“All of the rest of the cast,” he admits, “are really big Sherlock fans. I’ve never really read any of the Sherlock books. I’ve seen maybe one Robert Downey Jr. film? So I was very new going into it.”

Today, then, will be a crash course. Because, after we get Osterfield out of the park (and into that jumper), we’re heading to the Holmes Hotel for a coffee and a catch-up. It’s a relatively new hotel just off Baker Street, decked out with knowing nods to the world’s greatest detective. There’s a bronze bulldog guarding the door, pipe-patterned wallpaper and signature cocktails at the sadly-closed bar (anyone for a ‘Case Closed’?).

But, though there are only suggestions of Sherlock in the Holmes Hotel, Osterfield explains that they’re even subtler in the show. Because The Irregulars, in a nutshell (wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma), sidelines the sleuth, and shifts the focus onto Osterfield and his fellow gang members. The actor plays one of the show’s leads; frail runaway nobleman Prince Leopold. All sullen glances and broken bones, his story is the heart of this first season.

“And it’s been a long project in the making,” says Osterfield, noting that filming on The Irregulars began almost two years ago. “That’s quite daunting. When you’ve spent that much time on something and you’ve got no idea how it’s going to turn out?

“It means that, now, it’s crunch time,” he continues, face creasing with mock-worry, “and I have no idea how people are going to react. But I’m really proud of the work, and that’s what I’m taking away from it.”

The Irregulars may be Osterfield’s first lead role — but he’s been acting for years, popping up in several short films and the George Clooney-directed adaptation of Catch-22 before Netflix took notice. His first role came at 11-years-old, when he was cast as Tiny Tim in his school’s stage production of A Christmas Carol. “It’s funny, actually,” says Osterfield, “because it’s quite a similar physicality to my role in The Irregulars”.

“But that’s where it started,” he continues. “And the real reason I got into acting was because there was this girl in the drama class who I really liked. I thought, if I joined up and impressed her, I could take her out on a date. That didn’t happen. But, although she wasn’t interested at all — the acting seems to be going okay!”

It certainly does. But, like actors all over the world, it’s been a very slow year for Osterfield. He returned to set in September to finish filming the Netflix show — but the rest of his lockdown was eerily, cannily familiar to everyone else’s.

“I went back to my home in Kingston,” he nods, “where I was living with three of my best mates who are also actors. Quite a few of my friends are in theatre, and they had a really tough time of it — not knowing what was going to happen next. I was very lucky, knowing that I was going back to finish something”.

The actor says it was strange being locked-down with fellow performers. With sets closed around the country and curtains falling on theatres, it was one of the first times they had all been at home together. But, even with the additional pressure, he says there were no problems. And there never have been, according to Osterfield — as it’s rare that he and his friends ever compete for the same role.

“We’re all very different castings!” he laughs. “Which is good. It’s a mixed bag, really. But it’s very useful when you’ve got to self-tape an audition and there’s another actor literally upstairs. Also, we’ve all known each other for ten years, so we’ve grown up together and, luckily, know when not to push each other’s buttons.”

With no work, Osterfield spent most of his 2020 getting stuck into lockdown. And he shamelessly tried every self-isolated stereotype. He binge-watched every sports documentary from Drive to Survive to Last Chance U. He upped the frequency and intensity of his workouts. He even tried his hand at cooking. He tried everything.

“I did try everything!” the actor laughs, fizzing once more with that lamppost-swinging, daffodil-dancing energy. “Really! I think I went though every lockdown activity there is. I gave baking a go for two weeks — that didn’t work out. I made a banana bread and that was it. I’m not going to be delving into that any more…

“We were quite lucky, though,” he adds, “because we had an outdoor space. We built a homemade golf net in our garden, by putting up two wooden poles and hanging a blue screen we had left over from filming. That kept us entertained most days”.

But, despite the failed banana breads, closed-off golf courses and Irregulars anxiety, Osterfield says that the worst thing about lockdown was missing his family.

“Because we’re a very close family”, he explains. “Massively so. And, usually, we’d have family gatherings every other weekend – my whole family are in East Grinstead and closer to Brighton, so real countryside. I’m honestly just looking forward to the day, with summer on the horizon, that we can do some good barbecues outside.

“We even tried family Zoom quizzes over lockdown,” he adds, “and they all figured out that I’m not that clever. The rest of my family all seem really, really intelligent. I don’t know if they were just revising beforehand, but I was definitely last a couple of times…”

And Osterfield’s most inspiring family member — not to mention the most irregular — is his 89-year-old grandfather. Despite the young actor upping his own fitness levels during lockdown (“I started doing handstand push-ups. That’s my new skill!”) Osterfield’s grandfather put those athletic achievements to shame.

“He’s fitter than me!” laughs Osterfield. “He’s been kept at home for most of the time and, as a family, we’ve been quite worried about him. But I struggle to keep up with him. I’ll ring him up and ask how his day’s going and he’ll say ‘Oh, hi Harry. Can I call you back later on? I’m just doing some exercise’. So he’s doing better than okay!”

But the exercising, Osterfield says seriously, has been a real lifeline. It’s kept both him and his mind busy during lockdown — and has motivated the actor to pursue more physical, active roles in the future. If he can look back at a body of versatile work, measured out in marked body transformations, he says he’ll be happy.

“I’ve been doing a lot of bodyweight exercise over the last year,” he nods. “I thought it would be quite cool, while in lockdown, to break a world record for something — so I’ve been trying lots of fitness challenges. I’m very close to getting the most burpee chin-ups in under a minute. I’ve got to knuckle down on that.

“I also tried to eat an apple in under 38 seconds,” he laughs. “Which sounds like a long time, but it’s actually quite difficult. And, with apples, I eat everything. Even the middle bit. Even the stem. I just chuck it down. I’m a big fruit bat, so I eat everything apart from the seeds.”

There’s that bouncy energy again; that fun-but-utterly-sincere enthusiasm. It’s an odd thing for an actor, to be so happily unabashed by everything — but the 24-year-old is as animated when talking about his acting as he is about his apples. And that’s nice to see. He’s clearly relishing every opportunity to better himself, and just getting started with what promises to be a very exciting career. Harrison Osterfield, it seems, takes every bite of the apple — literally. Talk about irregular.

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Different Worlds (5)

Summary: You’re the youngest Winchester, a girl who needs to show her big brothers that she doesn’t need help. Then one day, on a totally normal vampire hunt that you had all under control, three meddling Avengers come barging in.

Warnings: language, violence, canon divergence, slow burn, me making stuff up

Word Count: 2001

~*~

Chapter 5: Answers and Headaches

The Winchesters led the Avengers to a large, run-down building that was secluded in the woods. Bucky looked at Steve, then back at the building. If this was a trap, they could take them. The two Winchesters didn’t have any magic… that he knew of. 

“We’re home!” (Y/N) shouted as she opened a door to reveal a large, open room. The inside was much nicer than the outside.

She went down the metal staircase first, followed by her brother and the strange man in the trench coat. The Avengers went down after them, one by one. Tony had collapsed his nanotech suit, but Bucky saw that he kept one of his repulsors on his hand. 

A tall man with shaggy brown hair walked out of the next room. His already annoyed expression became darker when he noticed Bucky and the rest of the Avengers. The next person to greet them was a young man with dark brown hair. His expression was similar to the first man’s, but when he saw the superheroes, his expression brightened. Then the red-haired book thief walked in next. Her large smile grew larger when she saw the large group of people. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked when he noticed their expressions. 

“We,” the tall man forced a smile, “have a guest.”

“A guest that isn’t the superhero group behind us?” (Y/N) clarified. 

Then a dark-haired man in a black suit swaggered in to join everyone. The redhead, Bucky thought he heard (Y/N) call her Rowena, smiled even wider. 

“Hello, Squirrel,” the man said to Dean in a British accent. Then he turned to (Y/N). “Do I have a nickname for you, dear? Rabbit? Do you like carrots?”

“Crowley,” Dean growled. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Came to visit my mummy.” Crowley gestured to Rowena. Bucky’s mind really couldn’t keep up with all this. “I caught wind that she had a very special book.”

“Can we just put everything on pause,” Steve interrupted, “and catch us up to speed?”

The rest of the Avengers mumbled their agreement. 

“Everyone into the library,” (Y/N) ordered.

Everyone walked into the next room and found a seat at one of the tables. The Avengers on one side, (Y/N) and her gang on the other. 

“First, introductions,” Tony spoke up. “You know who we are.”

“Meh,” (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t follow your shitty reality TV show lives.”

The billionaire opened his mouth in offense but Bucky smiled at her. She smiled back and then quickly looked away. Was she blushing?

“I’m Captain America but you can call me Steve Rogers,” Steve began. “This is my friend Bucky Barnes, he was the Winter Soldier, and my other friend Sam Wilson. He’s the Falcon.” He introduced the rest of the present Avengers, pointing at them when he said their name and superhero alias. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Uh, I’m (Y/N) Winchester.” She gave a small wave. “My brothers: Sam and Dean. That’s Castiel, we call him Cas, Jack, and Rowena. Then there’s Crowley.”

“And that was actually Lucifer back there? The Devil? Satan?” the Avengers’ Sam asked. The Winchesters, Cas, and Jack nodded in confirmation. 

“So what the fuck even happened at the cafe?” Clint raised his hand like he was in school. 

“Lucifer escaped,” Cas explained in a low voice. “We used the Magicae Libro and Rowena as bait to trap him again.”

“The ‘Magicae Libro?’” Nat asked. “The Magic Book? Very creative.”

“They didn’t need to be creative when it was the only one,” (Y/N) pointed out. Bucky saw Cas narrow his eyes at her.

“The Magicae Libro is the world’s first spellbook,” said Cas. “Written by witches who were guided by Lucifer.”

“Goddamned witches are a thing too?” Bucky thought about all the supernatural entities he had learned about in the past month: vampires, ghosts, Satan, and now witches? What else was there?

“Yes, ‘goddamned witches’ are a thing,” the Scottish woman said in a slightly harsh tone. “I’m a witch. One of the most powerful, I would say.”

“So who took the Devil?” Tony put everyone back on track. 

“Some angels.” (Y/N) shrugged like it was no big deal. 

“Angels?” multiple Avengers exclaimed.

“Yes, we exist,” Cas answered in prediction to the questions heading his way. 

“You’re an angel?” Steve’s eyes were wide with awe. 

“So Lucifer and angels exist,” Wanda began, “does that mean God and demons exist too?”

“Yes.” (Y/N)’s side of the table answered simultaneously. 

“Are you sure?”

“Considering I am literally the King of Hell,” Crowley said proudly as his eyes turned blood-red, “I am very sure.”

“And God?” 

“Chuck can go suck a dick, honestly,” (Y/N) blurted out. 

“Chuck?”

“My grandfather went by the pen name ‘Chuck Shurley’ for a while,” Jack explained. “He still insists to be called ‘Chuck.’”

“Grandfather?” Clint raises his eyebrows. 

“God has a fucking pen name?”

“Grandfather!?”

“Why does ‘Chuck Shurley’ sound familiar?” Nat tapped her finger on the table as she tried to remember. 

“Grandfather!?”

“He wrote a shit ton of books based on our lives,” Dean shook his head. “He called it ‘Supernatural.’”

“Grandfather!?”

Wanda sucked in a breath and looked at Nat. “I think we read one of the books during a girl’s night.”

“GRANDFATHER!?” Clint was shouting now. 

“My father is Lucifer. I’m a Nephilim,” Jack unhelpfully explained. Bucky swore that every time they tried to explain something, more questions would arise. 

“Please explain,” Tony groaned and rubbed his head.

“A Nephilim is—”

“I know what a Nephilim is. How is your father the fucking Devil?”

“My mother was Kelly Kline,” the young man said before he was interrupted again.

“Wasn’t she President Rooney’s aide?” Steve asked.

“Yes. My father briefly possessed the President of the United States.” Jack was only met with silence as the Avengers tried to wrap their head around the very large info dump. Bucky could see (Y/N) trying to hide a smirk. “He got my mother pregnant. She died giving birth to me.”

“I thought she only died in 2017?”

“This kiddo is only seven years old.” (Y/N) placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

“I need a break.” Tony placed his head on the table. 

“I’ll get some beers,” Dean offered and left the room. 

~*~

You walked over to Bucky with your beer in hand. He gave you a charming smile as you sat down in the chair that was just recently vacated by Steve.

“How are you doing?” you asked.

“Fine, I guess.” Bucky studied your face and you could feel your face warm up. “Are you some supernatural being too?”

“Nope. I’m nothing special.”

“I think you’re very special.”

“Even my brothers are more special than me,” you sighed.

“I think you’re greatly underestimating your value, doll.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname. You usually hated talking about yourself but Bucky’s compliments were nice. Very nice.

“S-so do you think this is below your paygrade?”

“Sweetheart,” you blushed at the second nickname, “I think this is above my paygrade. It’s above all of our paygrades.”

“You guys deal with this stuff a lot?” Steve joined the conversation.

“Yeah, I guess.” You shrugged. “Sometimes we just go on small hunts. Some monsters would be killing people and hunters go get rid of them. For some reason, it’s always me and my brothers who have to deal with the Apocalypse or the random angel who wants to be God.”

“The Apocalypse happened?”

“We stopped the Apocalypse from happening.”

“When?”

“Way before you guys formed,” your Sam said. “Like in 2009.”

“I had just become Iron Man,” Tony shook his head, “and you guys stopped the Apocalypse?”

“Sometimes I miss the Apocalypse,” you confess. “Simpler times.”

“Definitely simpler than the fucking leviathans,” Dean agreed.

“Oh, Chuck. I hated the leviathans.”

“Let’s skip over the fact that you miss the fucking Apocalypse and move on to ‘What is a leviathan?’” Avenger Sam asked.

“We accidentally opened a portal to Purgatory in 2012 and a bunch of shapeshifting leviathans escaped.”

“Have you heard of Dick Roman?” You looked around the room at each member of the Avengers. Tony, Natasha, and Clint nodded. “He was the leviathan leader.”

“You said they were shapeshifters,” Bucky said slowly. “Did they impersonate you three and go on a killing spree?”

“Yep!” You beamed at him. You don’t know why, but it felt like a weight lifted off your chest when Bucky knew you weren’t actually a serial killer.

“You face monsters and it seems that all odds are against you,” Natasha pointed out. “You guys must be good at your jobs if you’re still alive.”

“Oh, no,” Dean corrected. You smiled. Their reaction was going to be hilarious. “All of us here have died before. Multiple times.”

The Avengers looked like fish, opening and closing their mouths as they processed the information.

“How?” Bucky looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Sammy was stabbed and I made a deal with a demon to bring him back,” Dean started. “Because of the deal, I was dragged to hell until Cas dragged my ass back out. Then there was the whole Mark of Cain thing when I became a demon.”

“The good times,” Crowley sighed as he reminisced.

“I was stuck in a time loop once where Dean died every day.” Your Sam shuddered at the memory.

“Remember when those two hunters killed you ‘cause you started the Apocalypse?” You smirk. You had missed that fateful night as you were off hunting somewhere else.

“Raphael made me explode. Then Lucifer exploded me. Then I imploded because of the leviathans. Then I was stabbed by some lady. Then Lucifer killed me again.”

“God smote me.” Jack frowned.

“Lucifer killed me twice,” Rowena said simply as she looked at her nails.

“I had to die to become a demon.”

“I was smote… smited… smoted,” you gave up and continued, “by Gadreel, an angel, when he possessed Sammy. Then I was mauled by a werewolf.” You wrinkled your nose at the memory. Honestly, you didn’t know which one was worse but you ended up in Hell both times. That was literally a pain in the ass.

“You guys really know how to throw a party,” Tony snarked.

“I don’t see how that’s a party,” Natasha responded.

“I understood that reference!” Steve said with a smile on his face.

“I don’t understand that reference.” Cas looked around, confused.

You sighed and changed the topic, “Do you have any more questions?”

“Well, yes,” Avenger Sam said. “But I don’t think I have the mental capacity for any of the answers.

“That’s for sure,” you heard Bucky say. You let out a snort and Avenger Sam glared at both of you.

“Then it’s time for you all to leave,” Dean announced. “Thanks for stopping by and drinking our beer, but now we have to get back to work.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed and stood up. “We have some work to do as well.”

The Avengers made their way back into the map room and up the metal staircase. They said goodbye one by one and left the bunker until only Bucky was left.

“I hope I’ll see you again,” you said and held out your hand.

“I hope so too.” He took your hand with both of his. How did you not notice his left hand, and possibly arm, was metal? “I want to learn more about you and your work.”

“You know where I live now. See you ‘round, Bucky.”

He smiled, dropped your hand, and gave you one last wave before he left. You knew you had a stupid smile on your face, but for once you let yourself be happy. You stood there for a minute before Rowena broke the silence.

“I thought they’d never leave!” she exclaimed. “I just wanted to play with the Magicae Libro.” A moment of silence. “Where is the Magicae Libro?”

“Where’s Crowley?” Jack asked and you all looked around the library.

“Aw, fuck!”

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

~*~

Tag List (strike though means tag didn’t work):

@grav3dollie-666 @broco8​ 

[that-homoerotic-blouse]

Mementos

Pairing: Ten x Rose

Rated: T

Wordcount: 2080

Summary: post Doomsday, of places and things lost

For the prompt ‘family’ of @timepetalsweek

***

Jackie took the ripped envelope with reverent hands.

It didn’t make sense, not really. How time passed in this world. Sometimes, of course, she wouldn’t even notice, because calendars here still had twelve months and clocks an hour hand and a minute hand; others, however, she woke up thinking about the ludicrous hole a killer Christmas tree had left in her bedroom and just how expensive fixing it was going to be, only to find herself in a four-poster bed with silk sheets in a room like the bedchamber of Henry VIII, and everything around her crumbled. Those days were the hardest. Those days, she could feel the past like it was around the corner, just at the end of her fingertips—Rose, you came back! Oh, and you, big fella! You’re all mine!—and at the same time distant, remote and non-existent, fading in the way dreams fade the moment you blink awake.

Those days, Jackie thought, she was one step closer to understand her daughter. Because, despite the weeks and the months, she still catches the haunted looks, never misses the blank stares. Because it was just yesterday that she was holding her trembling body in a beach in Norway, and yet it wasn’t. It had been one year and a half. In those moments, Jackie was sure that there was something terribly wrong about the way the cogs turned in this world.

She’d thought she’d like it.

What a silly idea that seemed now.  

She shakes the envelope and the paper falls soundless as a feather.

There is only one picture. She had been dismayed when she found out, but Mickey told her that the rest of the files were corrupted and that there was nothing else he could do. Bless him. Those old mobiles had never been too reliable, anyway.

They were smiling.

Why, of course they were smiling, it was the only thing they seemed to be able to do around each other. Her with the dimples on her cheeks, and him with that barmy face and those barmy eyebrows. She didn’t know when it had become their trademark, only that it had.

They were pointing at something outside of the frame, their raised arms cut by the elbow. It must have been something incredible, no doubt, for their eyes were wide and shining. Inexplicably, they both wore two pairs of sunglasses, maintaining an precarious balance at the top of their heads, but they were too lost in whatever it was that had caught their attention to care. The quality of the image is fuzzy and the background is a blur of grey and blue. They could’ve been in Spain or in a moon colony lightyears away from Earth, and she wouldn’t be able to tell. Their expression is one of sheer wonder, and she thinks that’s how they should’ve looked, forever.

Forever wondering, forever marvelling.  

And she had once been so worried—worried that she’d lose herself, that on every ship and planet and asteroid she visited, she’d leave a piece of herself behind until there was nothing left. It couldn’t have been further from the truth: her daughter, she realized, had found herself among the stars, and she had soared. And for some reason, this realization brings a pain to her chest greater than any other. And she regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets, regrets so deeply she can feel her guts turn inside out.

And it only gets worse, because every day she sees her, and she’s trying so hard to build, she’s trying so hard to create and not destroy. To leave a mark, to carve a niche of her own, fit in the spaces between offices and parties and rooms twice the size of their flat. But it’s like Rose always tells her: “I was never born here. There isn’t a hole with my outline. If I want a place for myself, I have to start from scratch.”

Jackie can feel her hands shaking.

She doesn’t know when her daughter became so wise.

Indeed, it is those gaps. It’s those gaps she feels when she wakes up in a bed that’s not hers, with a husband that might look like hers, but he’s alive and well and no longer a ghost. It’s terrifying.

They had left a hole with their outline when they left, and Jackie wonders what it might look like. An empty council flat. With her cheap furniture, a desolate fridge and a broken washing machine. With a tiny bathroom with bad lighting and a crooked mirror. With two bedrooms cluttered with years and years of trinkets and keepsakes that would no longer hold any meaning whatsoever: Christmas postcards and old blankets and earrings and dirty clothes and a bronze medal and magnets of places they never visited.

Of all that, would remain nothing.

But in her mind, as she envisions it, to her surprise she realizes that the house isn’t empty. Not completely. She imagines a shadow, a lonely figure in a long coat, standing in the middle of it all like a salt statue.

She wonders if he will mourn them for long.

And hopes that he will.

Because, as she holds the picture in her hands, she thinks of paper crowns and garlands and laughter and ash instead of snow, and she too, mourns.

***

Someone stands still on Walworth Road and the Earth keeps turning.

The burden had been his to bear.

And that was okay.

It’s always been like this.

Every person he meets leaves a load when they part ways—a bundle of memories, of good times and bad times and a little bit of this, and oh, also a little bit of that—and he carries it gladly. Sometimes with sorrow, and pain, but always gladly. It’s the least he can do. It’s his duty. Or something like it, anyway. The word is too formal and too pompous and he doesn’t like how it sounds in any case.

But it wasn’t a sense of obligation that drove him here. Not because he felt that he had to, or that he owed them (even though he owes them, so much), but because he feels if he doesn’t honour what’s left of them, he doubts that anyone else will. And he can let the world forget—because humanity always forgets, humanity always moves on—their names and their faces and the footprints they left along their path, but he won’t.

So he steps into the flat.

For some reason, he didn’t think there’d be silence. This was never a place for silence; for chatter and laughter, always; for quiet, sometimes; but never for this sheer blankness, this void of sound. Now, however, there is so much of it he’s afraid the flat will burst. He could quantify it, estimate it, calibrate its exact weight and mass, because this silence is something tangible, something that looms and lurks and creeps onto your back. There’s something about it that unnerves this body. This silence makes his nerves itch and tingle and he wants to flee like a scared animal.

But he can’t bring himself to break it.

The TARDIS waits in the children’s playground, because parking it on the front room felt irreverent, and because Jackie always complained about the marks the old ship left on the carpet. Now he’s three floors up, foldaway cardboard boxes under his arm, and he’s crossed the threshold and it’s silent. It takes eight tentative steps, twenty-seven feet and 6.3 inches, and he’s in the living room. He can see the kitchen from his vantage point: the tap dripping every 0.9 seconds and the dirty dishes still in the sink and a mug on the table and everything is so there and it looks so very much the same that it aches. And suddenly it seems like the air turns liquid and dense and the Doctor freezes.

It’s like a snow globe.

It dawns on him that he doesn’t want to touch anything, that he’d rather die before moving a frame or a chair an inch from their current resting place. He wants to keep it this way, forever; preserve an ordinary, utterly unimportant empty council flat against the ravages of time, uncorrupted and uncorruptible. Nothing more and nothing less than a home, lived-in and worn-out, with specks of dust dancing against the sunlight and a half-finished cuppa still waiting for its owner to return. To come back.

He thinks he might wait, too.

He drops the cardboard boxes, and it isn’t until then that he notices.

Beside a too-familiar rucksack, there is a square plastic box. A disposable camera. The classic FujiFilm.

Attached to it, a pink sticky note.

Develop.

Once, it might have been a trivial reminder, just one among the many things in a to-do list, but now it feels more like a dying wish. Unfulfilled.  

He doesn’t think it twice.

He’s sprinting down the stairs before he can register that his body is moving at a disproportionate speed, the odds of missing a step and breaking his spine increasing exponentially.

There’s never been a dark room in the TARDIS, and it occurs to him that he should build one, one day. Why didn’t the TARDIS have a dark room? The TARDIS most definitely should have a dark room. That way, at least, he’d save the sidelong glances and the startled faces. Oh. Barging in again, aren’t we, Doctor?

It’s one of those little street shops, wedged and squeezed, fighting for space between a Tesco and an ATM, where you can have your photos printed in an hour and a puzzle or a keychain made with your face on it. Genius. At the counter were two employees with name tags attached to their breast pockets, and they both looked like they were about to ask him to leave. But he’s quick to slam the camera on the counter and rummage his pockets until he finds the right currency, and suddenly their faces turn bright and trustworthy.

So he waits—one hour, as the advert says—and the soles of his chucks punctuate the passing of each second.

When they give him the envelope, he stumbles back onto the street and rips it open.

The crowds pass him by, but he’s glued to the sidewalk from head to toe.

Out of the whole roll of film, there are only three photos. The first one is a table, the tablecloth faded at the edges and with a couple of burst seams, laid out with all sorts of foods—almost too much food—looking like an impromptu banquet, messy and exaggerated and inviting, and he knows exactly when it was taken.

He can’t say the same about the second one.

It’s the cracker they pulled, on a Christmas Eve that was both the first and the last. It was all glitter on the outside until it popped with a short loud bang. The paper crown had been pink and it had matched his, and she had been elated. Halfway through dinner, the telly had blared a season classic and they had tried to dance, tumbling ridiculously as to avoid the chairs and the sofa and oh, careful there, that’s the china figurine cousin Mo brought from Belgium! They had gotten tangled with the tinsel in the process, but her grin had been as wide as her cheeks stretched. Only now, he realizes, that he had been grinning too. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t remember the click of the camera, or Jackie fussing about saying cheese!

He has no clue when this moment happened, only that it came and it was gone in the blink of an eye.

And then the Doctor is left alone, standing still on Walworth Road, and his face is lined with tears.

He only catches a brief glimpse of the third photograph before he shoves the envelope into his coat pocket. It was dark, barely an outline, of two figures pointing at the sky.

I spent Christmas day just over there, at the Powell Estate, with this... family. My friend, she had this family. Well. It was my…

Bringing his hands to his face, he pushes his palms against the globes of his eyes until patterns emerge under the pressure, but no matter how hard he tries the tears keep falling.

The Doctor stands still and the crowds pass him by.

The Earth keeps turning.

An the burden, this time, is too heavy to bear.

***

Read in Ao3

[rustic-space-fiddle]

Things about Five that terrify me + some other things I noticed

He snapped a mop handle and shanked a baddie with it

he casually pulled his tie from around the baddie he strangled and put it back around his own neck like he was getting ready for work or something

He used a bargain mart trowel as a lethal weapon

He just pulls guns out of knowwhere?? Like his dads rifle????? When even??? That handgun he threatened the handler with??? Where did he get that???? Who is your dealer, Five??????

He sewed up his own gunshot graze with only minimal wincing (and then put a cute little bandaid over it, bless him)

He literally pulled out a knife, cut himself open, rummaged around under his skin like he was looking for the tv remote in the couch cushions, and pulled out the tracker chip like it was nothing

He heard one of the baddies groaning so he wandered over, crouched down, and snapped the guys neck??? With his little child hands??? I know he’s almost 60 in his head but just the image of this kid snapping a guys neck as if that was just something he does on a daily basis????? Holy heck that’s terrifying

His gremlin smile. Was his dad the Joker or something??? Good gravy

He pulled an eyeball out of a dead man’s hand, not knowing it was a fake eye at first and not even being a hardened assassin yet

He called killing the rando who apparently causes the end of the world “basic math”. Like I totally get what he means, but once again: FROM THE MOUTH OF A CHILD IT WIGS ME OUT

he was ready and willing to kill for a mannequin (love of his life)

His unclear understanding of what/who Dolores is. I can’t tell if he understands that she’s not sentient and can’t feel or love (my brain is telling me “YES SHE CAN HAVE YOU NOT SEEN TOY STORY” as I write this so heck maybe that’s his logic), but it’s kinda scary how fast he attached himself to her (we see him with her barely a few days after getting stuck)

His “I’m an old man who’s seen and done everything” complex

(From here on will just be things I noticed)

He was a really bouncy kid—bounced out of the bank, bounced at the dinner table, bounced up the stairs. He was a bouncy boy

He legit looked terrified to get his tattoo??? Like I know they all were, but usually he seemed like the “idgaf” type. What gives?

He is constantly putting his hands behind his back or in his pockets like some smarmy lil punk, both when he was a kid and after becoming a jaded killer. He also likes to sit with his ankle on his knee (note tattoo scene, he’s the only one not sitting normally, and also the scene in Vanya’s appartment). A few traits that survived all odds, I guess.

He only willingly let Vanya take care of him. He didn’t ask her too, but she made it clear she intended to do it he didn’t fight or say “I’ll do it myself”. He just rolled up his sleeve and let her help. The only other time someone else helps him like this is literally when he’s barely conscious and cANT bite off their hands

*SHANKS TABLE TO GET ATTENTION FROM NEGLECTFUL AND ABBUSIVE FATHER*

Also, the way Reginald eyed Five at the dinner table when he noticed him looking at him. How many times had Five used the minimal “quality” time to rag on him about science stuff????

We really see that he hates what he’s become when he says “I don’t belong anywhere, thanks to you. You made me a killer.” Up to that point, he doesn’t really go into it. He tells Luther that he didn’t enjoy the killing, but he never seems to actively show loathing for what happened to him. He’s too focused on saved his family and the world. But when he says that to the Handler, you can see that he’s really angry, and I kinda think that going back to his family and finding that he doesn’t really fit anymore and knowing that he can never go back really drove it home. Big oof, basically.

When his life is threatened, he doesn’t seem to panic too much, but when his family/loved one are, he actually looks scared (referring to jaded Five rn). Trying to stack his family? ANGER/FEAR. Trying to stack Dolores? SO MUCH FEAR NO NO NO (legit almost shot Luther—I wish he had sometimes tho)

Dolores telling Five that she doesn’t like it when he drinks is just essentially just Five telling himself that he doesn’t like it when he drinks. Does he examine his own flaws through Dolores berating him?????? Good golly he needs therapy

He never once give up hope that they can save the family. Like, the mOON WAS CRASHING INTO THE PLANET and he just “OKAY BUT LIKE ITS NOT THAT BAD WE CAN FIX THIS”

When he chucked the water bottle at Klaus for dancing with Dolores “GET OUT” (this killed me oml)

The fact that “Dad” was the third name out of his mouth in the apocalypse. I don’t know what to make of it. It just makes me wonder.

His little red wagon

Bundling up Dolores for winter even as a grown man (GET HIM THERAPY OH MY GOODNESS)

he was out for 45 years, but he said he was with Dolores for 30. He found her almost immediately after getting stuck, so..... did the Commission take her away????? Did he leave her like “it’s not safe I don’t want you to lose your other arm”???? Like wtf happened???? Is the reason he screws up the equations because he didn’t have Dolores to fact check him for 15 years????

(Last one I swear) Mom patching him up in ep 7 is the first time she’d gotten to take care of her boy Five in 17 years AND it was the first time Five had been taken care of by his Mom in 45 years. :’)

EDIT: ALSO TO WHOM DOES HE OWE A DEBT EXACTLY??? WHOMST???

[strongsassysexysloane]

Ain’t Life a B*tch - Chap 4

Well I wrote it, then i left it for a while, rewrote parts and then I reread it and am I happy with it? I’ll let you decide. 

Oh and the ratings goes up...A LOT.

. . . . . 

The weeks were beginning to melt into one. Once the first case begun and wrapped up, you managed to get 24 hours reset before another call came in. Luckily that one was a simple even though you made sure neither Ben nor Eddie made a comment about it being so. There were still certain things you were superstitious about.

Then this case hit and you knew it wasn't going to be so cut and dry. It took three hours before local PD had linked it to three other murders around the area over the past three months. The MO was the same but this time the victim was a young female petty officer where as the other woman weren't connected to the Navy at all.

The Police hadn't managed to find any lead or if they had one it had gone cold. The Detective in charge handed over everything quite easily, with only one condition. You nail the son of a b*tch and keep him in the loop. The next few days were long, you sent your Agents home at a reasonable hour while you continued to work. Alex came in this morning and you hadn't been home. She must've texted Ben because he came in ten minutes late with coffee's and breakfast muffin for you.

"Thanks Ben. Was following up on statements from the previous cases from so called witness's and didn't realise the time until Eddie came in." You happily slurped down the coffee and finished it in a few minutes. The lack of sleep catching up with you.

"Find anything?" Alex hops up on the edge of her desk, watching you and sipping her coffee.

Sighing you run your fingers through your hair before answering. "Possibly but my brain can't piece it together. I know there's something there. Or the start of something." You chuck the empty coffee cup in your trash can with a little too much force.

Ben places another cup in front of you with a smirk. "Maybe you need someone else to read over them." He looks down at your notes and chuckles. It was chicken scratch, no one would be able to read those notes. You couldn't even read half of them.

"You want to take a look?" You start stacking the files and place your notes in the top folder.

He shakes his head. "Was thinking more a forensic psychologist. Someone who's job it is to look through things like these and build profiles.." He takes a swig of his coffee, avoiding your gaze as he sits down at his desk.

You watched him curiously. He was avoiding your eyes but the smirk was coming through. You weren't in the mood or head space for this conversation and just sighed. "Fine." The stack of files seemed much heavier than 8 hours ago when you moved them onto your desk. You picked them up and headed for her office. Ducky hadn't been in for over a week, you remember him mentioning something about a talk or something in New York but you couldn't be sure otherwise you would've cowardly snuck off to his office to read over the files with him.

The stairs up to her office seemed like a mountain and the hallway seemed a mile long. This was it, you stood outside of her office for a moment, or ten. Taking a deep breath, you rolled your eyes and knocked on her door.

"Come in." Jack was cheery, smiling even until her eyes met yours once you opened the door and her smile shifted, forced to stay on her face.

Clearing your throat, you stepped into her office. Unsure if you should but it seemed odd standing in the hallway speaking to her. "Hi Agent Sloane. Are you busy?"

Jack stood up and offered her hand for you to sit down. "A little - but, ummm, take a seat."

You forced your legs to walk into her office further and gather the files on your lap as you sat down. "Sorry, I'm just working a case, looks like it could be a serial killer and was wondering - if you had the time - to look over these statements from the old cases and see if you could find something? I've been up all night, something's there, I know it but I need someone else to look at it." The words all came rushing out, your eyes looking from the files in your lap to Jack and the painting behind her. An Elephant? Where was the Rorschach painting you'd given her for her birthday all those years ago?

She cleared her throat and brought you back the case in your hands. "Petty Officer Moon, right?" Her eyes searching yours as you passed over the files.

She knew about your case? You tucked that thread of a thought away and sat back down. "Right, she's the first victim who's Navy, the other three victims are around the same age, same characteristics but the cops had nothing to go on. I know there's something in those witness statements and reports, I just can't piece it together, lack of sleep." You shrug, talking about the case was easy. She was a colleague, one that could assist you in your investigation and that was it.

Jack picked up the file on top and opened it. It was from the very first murder, your horrible hand writing notes, tucked inside and her lips quirked. "Still messy hand writing I see."

Are you blushing? Why are you blushing? "Oh sorry, I'll take that." You reach forward but Jack holds up the piece of paper out of your reach.

"I'll give it back in a bit. Your notes may connect the dots for me or not. Anything helps. Let me have a look, see what I can see and I will give you a call once I get you a suspect or the guy."

Nodding you get up from your seat and your eyes snag the elephant in the room again. "No rush, if you've got other cases. I have a feeling this one will be hovering over me for a while."

"I'll get right on it. These woman need justice. If the cops aren't willing to keep the case, we sure are." She doesn't look up at you and you're glad, your eyes can't look away from the fat bottomed elephant behind her.

It was a very odd painting to be in prime position in her office. Didn't seem like her kind of style of artwork, you remember her old place. It was beachfront, but the beach was also inside as well. In every corner of her little shack.

Her words pierced through your memories. "Gibbs got it for me."

Your gut sank. Your heart thudded louder and your eyes dropped to hers. The smile on her lips was gone, her eyes searching, analysing your movements and you knew you weren't in the right state to hide everything that you were feeling. You'd clearly been staring at the painting for far too long.

"Right, well. Nice Elephant. Thanks for the help, again. I'm going to check in on Jimmy." You attempt to give her a small smile but that didn't happen and you quickly dart from her office without looking back.

Smooth.

If she called you later with a lead you'd be a whimp and get Ben to go collect the files and get Jack's info.  She didn't call though and you wanted to follow up but thought it best to just let her be. Jack would obviously contact you if she had anything to go on.

Jimmy was still working away and didn't have any further helpful information, everyone was working hard to find any scrap of evidence or lead to follow. The crime scene was immaculate so even Kasie was having a hard time with the lack of evidence. It wasn't until 2030 that you called it a night and you all went home. Well you made a pit stop on the way home.

That night you drink, a lot. Now this case involved Jack meant you'd most likely have to talk to her again, even if you got Ben to check in on her profiles in the morning. Maybe even have her in interrogation to assist. You needed to drown your feelings in alcohol for tonight, tomorrow was another problem. You were a total professional.

One bottle of wine too many meant the next day wasn't fun. Jack managed to find the lead that you were on to and a suspect was brought into interrogation which Jack insisted on being in the room for. Your head was pounding too much to do an interrogation so Ben was sent in. Jack and Ben's surprise was obviously but you tried your best to ignore their looks and Ben's comments. The pounding in your head was enough.

The case was long and hard, lasting almost two weeks with a several long nights before you finally nail the serial killer. Luckily you managed to find him in time before he got to another woman, his basement filled with profiles, photos and plans of the next attack. Jack was an instrumental help in catching the dirtbag and truthfully it got easier talking to her as the case went on. Like the past was forgotten and you were just newly acquainted colleagues until reality came crashing back down around you.

It was Friday morning, you'd been in since sunrise due to no sleep and wanting to get these reports finished so you didn't have to think about this disgusting man ever again. Alex had just come in with a coffee and sweet smile on her face ready for a day of paperwork.

"Is it strange that I'm happy to do paperwork right now?"

You chuckle taking a sip of your coffee. "Not at all, some days paperwork is what you need after a horrible case." You sigh, looking at the report on your screen, pictures of the crime scene glaring back at you. "It's a nice wind down."

"Yes! Okay, the coffee is kicking in. Let's do this."

It's not long before Ben comes in, less peppy than Alex and gets straight to work without a word. He'd been quiet since searching the basement and interrogating the guy. Something was on his mind and you weren't sure how to breach the subject with him.

"Alright, my coffee cup is empty. Who wants what?" You offer, picking up your side arm and badge.

"Dirty chai latte."

"Black with one sugar." Ben offers you a smile, the first look you've gotten since he came in. Clearly the case had gotten to him more than he was letting on.

"I'll be back." You grab your charcoal trench coat and head to the elevator. The doors open and your gut drops.

Jack's eyes dancing with Gibbs' and her smile fades as she sees you. "Morning." So the case is solved and shes's back to being awkward and avoiding you at all costs. She'd even managed to drop off her report for you after you'd gone home last night, you'd left the office at 2100.

Gibbs hops off the elevator behind Jack Sloane. "Mornin' Y/n." He grunts, cup of coffee in one hand and his other on the small of Jack's back. He drops it as soon as they walk past, not stopping as Jack slowed down her pace, she looked like she was about to say something but continued towards her office.

"Morning." You sing, possibly too loud but hit the elevator doors button quickly. Why did the world hate you? They both had Diner coffee cups and Jack had a takeaway container in her hand. They'd had breakfast together and you couldn't stop thinking about that all the way to the coffee cart across the navy yard.

The paperwork wasn't helping in distracting you enough. Gibbs team was deep into a case and he was shouting and grouching at every chance. You honestly were glad you never had to work under him for too long. You might've quit NCIS years ago if that was the case. Alex and Ben went out for lunch while you powered through. When the clock hit 1800 Alex practically jumped out of her chair ready for the drinks you promised once the reports were done.

"Drinks time?" She danced, putting on her coat and shutting down her station.

Ben laughed standing up and gathering his things. "Think we should have a bite to eat as well."

"That sounds too responsible, Hunter."

"It is dinner time, Boss." He shakes his head as you and Alex laugh.

"You going for a drink?" Ellie piped up. Her eyes pleading for you to take her too.

"Or ten." You smirk at her jealousy and your eyes find Jack's. Her eyes divert and look back at the file in her hands as the elevator's doors open.

"Enjoy." Ellie pouts and you wink at her.

"I'll have five for you Ell. Or if you manage to escape. We are going to be at the Hive for a while." You shout as the doors close. You made a side stop to your apartment before meeting the others at the bar. You needed to freshen up for a nice night out.

Ben insisted on buying some fries and wings when you arrived. To no ones surprise Ellie never showed up, unlikely Gibbs would've let anyone go early tonight. The drinks kept coming and Alex ended up dancing with a few people before she called it at night. Ben ended up taking her home as he wasn't really in a drinking mood at little after 2000. You on the other hand were and kept the party going by yourself. Easily chatting drunkenly to a few people and dancing with a few woman until you moved onto another bar. Your head was buzzing and you don't recall how you managed to find the next bar but you did. Another several drinks in when the night shifted, the air spiked around you and the hairs on the back of your neck rose.

This wasn't how it was meant to happen but you fell back on old habits. It was the alcohol, you knew it was, because neither of you would do this sober. Your eyes connected with her as she walked into the bar in that white skin tight dress that had you feeling in all those untouched aching parts.

She walked to the other end of the bar, your eyes raking over every curve, dip and length of her until she wasn't in your purview anymore. You just hoped, prayed to the devil that she noticed you too. The bartender brought you another drink and you swirled the liquid in the short glass before taking a long hard gulp. The welcoming burn slipping down your throat, no matter how drunk you were the burn was always there and warming your insides. The blur returning and you swayed your head to the beat of the music.

Enjoying the feeling, the confidence building again with the amber liquid courage you took the chance to turn around and there she was. Only a few metres away staring right at you. Those silky whiskey eyes devouring you. When her eyes finally made there way up your body and met your eyes, she was far too drunk to be flushed, instead she sauntered towards you. Jack Sloane glided up to the bar, brushing against you, she ignored you and gave her attention to the bartender instead.

"One more please." You watched her tongue come out to glide across her lips and her fingers sliding back and forth over her empty glass. "Thought you'd be at Devil's tonight?" Her eyes straight ahead, the only hint that she was talking to you was the way her body rubbed against you again. You turned to face her, your front now absorbing all her body heat.

You inhaled her, her hair tickling your cheek and you flicked her hair to the side so you could get a better access to her neck. You looked over at the bar, her eyes on you through the mirror lining the back of the bar. Her eyes were dark, a smirk curling her lips, lustful and anticipating your next move. "Only devil I want is right here." Your lips brush against her neck and you hear the low moan, it would be hard for anyone else to hear but you were always in tune with her, you only heard her and the world tuned out.

"Your drink is here." She whispered, all breathy.

Her words had you pulling back but not before getting a quick taste of what you'd been missing for years. Your lips at base of her neck, drawing her skin between your lips before pulling away and getting a drink. "So it is." Her eyes now on yours, you never broke her gaze as you gulped down the drink, finishing it in one go. "So it isn't" That smooth remark made Jack laugh and your lips were back on her neck, her laugh dead under your lips.

"Thought we weren't talking." Jack threaded her fingers through your hair, tugging at the hairs at your scalp which only spurred you on. Your mouth moving from her neck to her jaw and the corner of her mouth before you pulled back.

"You're the only one talking." That got a shove to the shoulder and you stumbled back, your balance swayed with the alcohol. Clearly she wasn't that drunk as you. "You want to talk?" You smirked, seeing her eyes trained between your breasts. Your eyes followed hers, the buttons undone on your white shirt were now uncovering the tops of the black laced bra and you made no move to straighten yourself instead just moved closer to her, your nose running up her neck, your teeth tugging at her ear causing a moan you were expecting.

"No.." She moaned and pushed you back into the bar, causing you to break free from the hickey you were determined to mark her with. "Your place close?" Her lips ghosting over your ear and she had you undone with no touch, just words.

"Two minute taxi." You groaned as all the heat vanished and you watched Jack leave her drink and walk out the bar. Your brain kicking in and you jogged after her.

You weren't lying and Jack had you pinned to the back of your door as soon as you opened it. Her lips tugging at your ear lobe before descending, her hands unbuttoning the rest of your shirt which she'd already half undone in the taxi. She yanked the tucked ends out of your skin tight black jeans which caused you to thrust into her.

"Fuck." She moaned, her teeth, lips sucking your bottom lip between yours.

The self control was all lost on you. Your hands on her waist, you pushed her back, she stumbled backwards and you caught her lips in yours finally. Both of you fighting for dominance, teeth clashed,  tongues fought before you gave into her. You'd let her do whatever she wanted. She slammed you against the wall, her lips leaving yours puffed,sucking along your jaw and having her way at the base of your neck.

"Bedroom." You moaned as her fingers undid the zipper on your jeans, her fingers slipping inside, over your panties. "Now." You grunted, her fingers taunting you, her eyes watching your movements, your hands digging into the skin at her waist.

"Fine." She removed her hand and you groaned, pushing her backwards, your mouth on her throat, biting at her pulse. You managed to walk you both into your bedroom. Your hands sliding down and slipping under her dress, your hands moving, caressing, squeezing her butt and drawing her dress up around her waist. "Take it off." She breathed, demanded.

Your hands searched up her back, fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down agonisingly slow for Jack. She groaned and attacked your lips again. Your fingers slipping under the dress, feeling her scars and back under your touch, you move back up to her shoulders and push the fabric over and down her body. Kneeling down in front of her and she's only in her panties, looking down at you with her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. "Fuck." Her hand threads through your hair and your nose presses into her pussy before you crawl up her body. "Bed now."

Her hands work down your jeans before straightening back up. "You're still wearing too much.." Her fingers playing with your panties, you step out of them and push into Jack. She steps back and falls down on to the bed. You follow her down, your legs slipping between hers, you lips travel up her body, sucking at her nipple and then the other. She whimpers under your touch.

Somehow in between your slow exploration up to her lips, she manages to flip you over, kneeling between you legs and you can't help but bury yourself back into the bed. Her lips on you at once, sucking, tongue swirling your clit. Her fingers flicking your nipple between them, her tongue working you closer, sucking you harder, you can feel the edge, the waterfall of sensations, the ripple, she bites and sucks and you're lost. Screams, moans and her touch is moving up your convulsing body. Your mind is bliss, her words not registering as you ride through your orgasm.

It isn't until she's kissing your lips again and the taste of you on her tongue that some strength and fire kicks back in. Your hands cupping her butt, you sit up bringing her with you, she grounds down onto you and you flip her back into your bed. Your lips trailing down her throat, over her nipples, leaving wet, searing kisses down her naval and between her legs. She bends her knees, lifting her thighs over your shoulders and suck down hard. Her moans and faltered thrusting has your ache between your legs building again. You slip two fingers inside her, her muscles instantly clenching around you, you build the pace up quickly, feeling her on edge, swirling your tongue back and forth.

"Harder." She shouts and you suck down on her clit, plunging your fingers and curving slightly and she's gone. She screams and melts into the mattress, quivering. You stroke her through her orgasm, watching her has you close to the edge again. You slide out from under her legs and collapse on the bed bedside her.

The only audible sound is the sirens in the distance and your deep breaths. Neither of you saying anything, just letting the last hour catch up with you both. The alcohol now barely clouding your head. Jack Sloane was the only intoxicating thing in your system right now.  

It isn't a minute before Jack is sitting up, you jump at the sudden movement. "This shouldn't have happened. This didn't just happen." You hear her deep rapid breathing and she slips into her heels. She stands up but you quickly reach out and grab her hand.

"Wait, can we talk about this." You plead but she yanks her hand out of yours. The blissful, foggy sensation you felt moments ago is instantly gone. Vanished with her words.

"I can't do this. This was a mistake." She whispers, slipping into her dress, pulling up the zipper as much as she can and walking out of your bedroom. You quickly hop up, grabbing your oversized shirt from the dresser, throwing it on and slipping into your panties as you run after her. "Don't follow me. I'm leaving." Her voice more stern, loud but not shouting.

You thankfully catch up to her, jumping in front of her, not listening to her words or the daggers her eyes are shooting at you. With your back planted firmly against your front door. she tries to pull at the handle but it's no use. "Move!" Her anger is boiling, eyes piercing you, scolding you now. Memories from the break up clouding your vision.

"I need to talk this through." You are firm, your emotions at tipping point but you can't let her go now.

"Y/n, move now! I don't want to talk, I don't want to - see you." Her voice cracks, her anger boiling into tears but you don't move. The last two words burn like a branding iron but she had already branded your heart years ago.

"I ca-n't." A sob escapes and then the rest follow, your legs falter, knees bending and you slide down the door, burying your face in your hands and your hands on your knees. The sobs shaking your body, they won't stop and you feel like a fool. You wished you just let her go, not wanting her to see you like this. All the emotions finally catching up with you. Drunken sex definitely wasn't a smart idea.

You hear her bag drop, a loud uncertain sigh escaping Jack's mouth before she reaches down and grabs your hand. It doesn't register at first but the second,  much harder tug gets your attention. She pulls you up, the sobs stopping from her contact. "We can't do this. It's too painful for both of us. Tonight was a one off, one I won't forget but one we need to." She sighs, her fingers tucking your hair behind your ear. It was still sweaty and tangled from your previous activity, now probably mixed with tears. What a mess.

You take a deep breath, Jack drops her hand and you manage to hold your head up, looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry." You take a big breath as Jack's eyes dart away at your words. You can tell she wants to run but instead just stands there. "Sorry for letting you go, sorry for pushing you away. That job was something I needed to do alone. I can't and won't take that choice back but I wish it happened differently. I want to move forward. I don't want to avoid each other anymore. It's really hard." You huff out a dry laugh and see Jack's lips curve slightly, that was a good sign, right? But you continue. Finally being able to find the words. "I want to be co workers, that can actually work together successfully. Maybe even become friends or-"

She can't let you finish that sentence or thought. Too late about the thought. "Y/n, I can do the co workers. Anything more, I can't. Not right now. Those emotions are too painful. I can't go down that road again, not with you. My heart is so tired." She finally looks you in the eyes again, her eyes brimming with tears and you nod. Nod because co workers was good enough. You could work with that and whatever else happened down the road well you would just have to wait and see. If anything was to happen at all.

"Co workers it is." You step aside, the door now within Jack's reach and she turns the handle. "Night." You try and smile but your face dones't comply. Your emotions are becoming too much again.

"Night." She picks up her bag with her other hand and walks out. You lock the door behind her and drop your head back against it. Holding in your emotions you push yourself off the door and walk back to bed. Sleep wasn't going to come but at least you had the comfort of your bed. Although Jack's scent was everywhere and that wasn't comforting at all.

You groan and get up, grabbing new sheets and a blanket from the linen closest. You strip your bed, throwing the old sheets in the corner of your room and dressing it with clean ones. The scent of new sheets was something you always enjoyed, shame you didn't enjoy changing your bed more often. Lying back down, you pull the blanket up around your neck and close your eyes, Jack's scent vanished.

Monday morning rolls around and your alarm jolts you awake, your head slams and you cringe at the rattling of your brain and the amount of alcohol you consumed last night helped drown away the memories of Friday night but it all came flooding back again. If there was ever the possibility of a monster living under your bed you wished it would eat you right now. "I'm never drinking again." You moan, pushing your face into your pillow, hoping it would swallow you up.

You manage to gather up some ounce of strength and motion to sit up, your head still pounding but you have to push through. It's Monday. You groan looking at the sheets on the floor that you still hadn't done anything about. But now something catches your eye. A lacy strip of white sticking out of the sheets. Your mind helps you peace it together and you gather the material into your hands and for the third time this morning you want to die. It was Jack's lacy white panties. You place it on your dresser and head for the bathroom. You needed a moment to figure this out plus Advil. You needed a lot of Advil.

Biting the bullet because you'd made it this far without throwing up, you awkwardly knock on Jack's office door. You hear a stumble and open the door slightly. Jack's shuffling things on her desk, you can see her cheeks are flushed like she's been crying. "I can come back later?" You say in a soft voice. Jack just shakes her head in response and tries to smile but it just comes off as a slanted curve of the lips, not reaching her eyes at all.

"No it's- well, what can I do for you y/n?" She sorts her papers and sits down at her desk. Her hand comes out to offer you a seat but you shake your head, gripping the small bag in your hand that much tighter.

"I just wanted to drop this off. You - umm - left it the other night. Did you get home ok?" You quickly step forward placing the bag on the corner of her desk. You take a few steps back to get a bit of distance for you and for Jack as she shifts awkwardly in her seat when you got close.

"Yes, an Uber was thankfully just around the corner and thank you." Her voice is as uncertain as yours, she clears her throat again.

You nod at her words and turn to leave.

"Sorry about le-"

At her words you turn sharply, cutting her off. "Jack, don't. I think we both said all we needed to. It's done. Won't happen again, next time I'll handle my liquor better." You shift, swaying your head from side to side, your hand shoved into the back of your jean pockets. "Hopefully." Jack actually smiles and huffs out a dry laugh (neither of you knew how to handle your liquor when emotional) and the atmosphere shifts slightly. That's how your sexual, romantic relationship started last time, all those years ago.

"Hopefully. Thanks again." She picks up the bag in thanks and shoves it in her bottom drawer away from any prying eyes that may walk into her office today.

"Ok, bye." And the awkward feeling is back. You leave her office without looking back, closing the door quietly and heading back to work. Blowing out a breath that you didn't know you were holding and cross your arms. Hopefully this would get better, soon. The nagging ache in your gut was telling you otherwise.

. . . . 

Apologies for any mistakes, I’m finding it really hard to edit lately.

I’ll get around to updating my Masterlist... soon. 

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors 

Word Count: 5K words

Chapter 14 - Harry IV: The Camden Raid (link to full story on FF.net)

Featuring: Harry Potter, Ernie MacMillian, Savage, OC 

Warnings: Racism, Slightly graphic violence

The relatively busy tube almost entirely emptied as it stopped at Tottenham Court Road station, with the eclectic carriage of muggle tourists of all colours and creeds emptying out to enjoy the shopping opportunities on offer.

The commercial London street had much darker connotations for Harry himself.  He vividly recalled the destruction that had been caused when they had encountered Antonin Dolohov and Thorfinn Rowle in that dingy café during the aftermath of Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

Sometimes he wondered how many deaths that the two dark wizards had been personally responsible for after they were defeated that night.

He knew deep down that the three of them had made the right moral choice to show the men mercy, that to kill them would have sunk Harry, Ron and Hermione to the Death Eater’s level – but that didn’t stop him from playing devil’s advocate in his mind.

Dolohov and Rowle were both stone-cold killers and the three of them had inadvertently let them go on to wreak more havoc on the wizarding world. It killed Harry to think that this may have led to the deaths of Tonks, Remus, George or any of the others that ultimately lost their lives.

The former and possibly more dangerous of the duo was at least now safely behind bars, but the erratic Thorfinn Rowle was still at large and possibly in cahoots with the other five missing Death Eaters.

It was two of those missing Death Eaters, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, that had led Harry and the eight other magical passengers onto the Northern Line service that evening. As the scattering of muggle passengers alighted the carriage Harry could once again see the other two groups of three Ministry staff huddled together throughout the train.

The furthest to Harry’s group at the rear of the carriage were Femi Wakanda, dressed in a flamboyant, yet still quite practical purple gown and Neville, in a comfortable looking grey hoodie, both gripping a hand onto the bars above their head, whilst the considerably shorter Conrad Proudfoot could only reach a bar that was many inches lower below his colleagues. Wakanda and Proudfoot seemed to be having a hushed conversation, as Neville remained silent, with a deep and thoughtful look in his eyes.

Harry had at first thought his pureblood friend had just felt a bit uncomfortable on what would possibly be his maiden muggle tube voyage, but then he remembered the obvious connection and extra investment that the sole son and heir of Frank and Alice Longbottom would have in this mission.

The closer trio, at the front-facing side of the carriage, was the attractive young muggle-born witch Farzana Badwal, alongside the foreboding figure of Robert Williamson and his flustered young protégé, Ernie MacMillan, who certainly was feeling quite uncomfortable on his first trip on the London Underground. He had not at first grasped the concept of holding onto the bars to keep your balance, so as soon as the train had departed Charing Cross he had been violently flung into Farzana -  who had wasted no time in giving him a stern telling off, with many muggle strangers quietly laughing nearby.

Rhea Savage and Josh Morris, who Harry was grouped up with, had both also laughed at Ernie’s mishap, much to his horror. Savage and Morris were both muggle-borns themselves so were no doubt more up to speed with using non-wizarding transport – and indeed, also wearing non-wizarding clothes, as they both blended in fairly well with their respective leather and denim jackets.

Josh Morris looked particularly sharp as he wore his faux-wool collars up, with a low cut white t-shirt underneath it that showed off his muscly frame. His fingers were adorned with several eye-catching rings, the most noteworthy of which was in the shape of a golden eagle. Harry had even noticed a couple of the young female muggle tourists eyeing him up, although Josh himself had been completely oblivious to them.

“So… since we have a few more stops and some time to kill, tell me, did you see much action in New York?” Rhea probed, as she shot her brawny colleague a slight wink as they each sat down in the now vacated seats.

Harry recalled in his mind the time that Ron had commented on the wacky designs and patterns on muggle public transport – and his horrified reaction when Hermione had said that it was primarily only to help hide the dust and the dirt.

“Erm… well there was the odd bit of bother here and there… but nothing massively exciting, I spent most of the time floating between the Transport and the Magi-… the Creatures department,” he quickly corrected, as he remembered they were still in the presence of a few muggles scattered about the carriage.

Harry was pretty sure though that even with Josh’s belated amendment that there was no such equivalent department for ‘creatures’ in the muggle government.

“Guessing they thought I’d want to avoid too much action given I’d transferred from Britain,” Josh continued. “Still, it could’ve been much worse if Kingsley stuck to his original plan to send me home to Manila. It would’ve been nice to see my parents a bit more, but man, way too many…”

He silently mouthed ‘dragons’ to the two of them.

“…causing all kinds of shit all of the time. It’s crazy how lapse the Filipino Ministry are about them, it’s a different world out there, man!” he said as he enthusiastically gestured his hands about whilst talking.

Rhea scoffed slightly, as the train briefly stopped at Goodge Street, as the last of the muggle passengers remaining on the carriage left the train.

“That’s great Josh, but I wasn’t talking about that kind of action…” she replied, rolling her eyes at him as the doors slammed shut and they began moving again.

Josh burst out laughing as soon as he realized what she had meant.

“For fuck sake Rhea!” Josh jeered.

“What?!” she replied in a mock incredulous tone. “An attractive fashionable bloke like you with a nice British accent and those muscles, you must have had all of the American witches queuing up for a go like you were Harry Potter or something!”

Harry laughed awkwardly as Josh sniggered slightly at Rhea’s remark, with the muggles now all off the train it seemed that they could now speak more freely.

Rhea crossed her legs, putting her right over her left, as Harry caught the outline of a brightly coloured Holyhead Harpies tattoo that was partially on display through her ripped black jeans, which were tucked into a well-worn pair of purple doc martens boots.

“Well, there was this one girl…” Josh began, as Rhea smiled enthusiastically.  

“Details! I need details, Josh,” Rhea snapped back quickly. “Do you know how many lesbian or bisexual witches there were in Paris? Nil-pwa, mon amie!”    

“Alright… alright, keep your hair on… so on this one assignment when I was in the Department of Transport I got chatting to this one chick, Kimberley, she was from Texas…”    

“Ooh, Kimberley from Texaaas!” Rhea ribbed in a mock Southern accent, which caused Josh to laugh involuntarily.

“Well you know me, I have a soft-spot for blondes, so we kinda hit it off from the get go and yes… she did love the British accent… we were seeing each other almost every other day after work at her place for well over a month and then one night…” he stopped mid-sentence, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“And then what?!” Rhea demanded, on the edge of her seat in anticipation.

“… and then one night her husband came home! Of course, she never told me about him now, did she?”

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered.

“You can say that again!” Rhea added.

“And it’s not what you think. She wasn’t that sort of girl… well, not really. It was a pureblood arranged marriage type deal that their parents had set up, or rather, her parents had set up with him. He was this rich potion-maker, much older than her, almost old enough to be her dad…”

“Jesus…” Rhea mumbled with a disgusted look on her face.

“I felt a bit bad for her… but as you can imagine it went down like a sack of shit with him. It turned out he was reasonably influential at the MACUSA too… he was one of their biggest suppliers of potions in the entire country and he winded up being the main reason why I got transferred to the Creatures department outpost in Arkansas.”  

“Tough break, mate,” Rhea sympathised. “We’ve all been there.”

“You’ve been caught sleeping with a married woman too?” Josh quizzed back, with a look of real intrigue on his face.

“A lady never tells,” Rhea said in a faux-posh accent, as the train pulled into Warren Street and a group of three muggle-men, all armed with beers cans in hand, stumbled on board their carriage and started arguing among themselves.

“I’m fucking tellin’ ya Trevva, Hoddle ain’t got a clue. He ain’t got a bloody clue! How’s he not gonna take Gazza to the World Cup?”

said the shortest of the three men, before downing the rest of his can and belching loudly, which drew a rather disgusted groan from Farzana Badwal on the other side of the carriage. The man, who had a buzz cut and a poorly kept beard, did not notice her, nor did either of his friends..

“Don’t worry Mark bruv,” replied the tallest of the three, who was wearing a black baseball cap and slurring his words quite considerably. “He knows what he’s doing. It’s coming home!” he cheered, as he took a large swig of his own can of beer.  

“Ere chuck us anuvva Stella then Tel,” the short man with the buzz cut light-heartedly ordered the man in the middle, who had spiked up hair and was wearing a creased black shirt that was much too big for him.

‘Tel’ obliged and passed Mark, the shortest man, another beer, as the baseball cap wearing muggle, Trevva, began eyeing up Rhea, before his eyes eventually fell on Harry.

“What’d you reckon four-eyes?” he asked, before briefly stumbling as the tube hit a bit of a bump. “You think it’s comin’ home?”

“Oh yes… definitely,” Harry replied, as he attempted to not rise to the jibe about his glasses. He had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Besides, they were on an important mission and the last thing they needed was any trouble with a group of rowdy drunk muggles, so he gave him the answer that he thought he would want to hear.  

“See it’s fuckin’ comin’ home lads!” Tel announced triumphantly to his two cronies, as he enthusiastically poured a large amount of lager into his mouth, spilling some over both himself and the floor of the train in the process.  

“What do you think sweet cheeks?” Mark said to Rhea, as he too started to eye her up.

Harry noticed that Josh no longer seemed to be in the jovial mood he had been in before. It was almost as if he was anticipating and preparing for some kind of trouble. The look on Savage’s face certainly suggested that there may well be some on the cards, although Harry was sure that the Head Auror would keep her cool.

“I don’t care much for football… and I certainly don’t care much for men who call me sweet cheeks,” she hissed, whilst giving the three of them a cold stare, before suddenly rising to her feet. Josh jumped to his feet too, with Harry following his lead.  

“HA! She’d be so lucky ehh lads?” Mark said, addressing both of his friends. “Ugly fucking greebo anyway. Off to go slit your wrists at the rock show are you, love?” he goaded, as Trevva and Tel laughed along, eyeing up both Harry and Josh as they did so.

Josh initially looked like he might rise to their attempts at provoking them – but Rhea shot him a fierce glare which kept him at bay.

“Aww, you not gonna defend your girlfriend? Must have a tiny pair of bollocks to go with that tiny little cock of yours!” Tel jested, daring Josh to react. Harry ran his fingers along the shaft of his wand through his jacket pocket, ready to use it as discreetly as he could should the time come.  

“Is there a problem here?” Williamson demanded, as the tall wizard came to their aide, presumably having noticed the commotion.

The large Auror towered over the drunk trio, even Trevva, the tallest of the three troublesome muggles, but they showed no sign of backing down – in-fact, Williamson’s arrival to the scene, with Ernie and Farzana in tow, only seemed to increase their desire for some kind of conflict.

“Who’d you think you’re talking to? Long haired cunt. Only problem here is your fucking barnet!” Trevva joked, which caused Tel and Mark to laugh too, although Harry thought the shortest of the three, Mark, did seem at least a little intimidated by the comparatively giant Williamson.

“Well, I say,” Ernie uttered in a dubious manner. “That is quite the insult from a man so insecure about his own haircut that he conceals it beneath a hat.”

“Ernie!” Robert berated under his breath, although Harry thought that for a moment Williamson had shown a slight smile and possibly even a fondness for Ernie at coming to his defence so quickly.

Harry thought he even caught a momentary grin from Farzana Badwal at Ernie’s albeit quite passé retaliation at the muggle.  

“You’ll be insecure about having no teeth in your fucking mouth in a minute you fucking toff,” Tel raged at Ernie, as he threw his now empty beer can aside and raised his fists for a fight.  

“Don’t worry about it Robert, they’ll be getting off at the next stop,” Rhea calmly instructed, as she saw the pony-tailed Auror losing his patience, with both Ernie and Josh also clearly ready for some kind of altercation, should it come to that. Harry felt more confident about Josh’s chances than Ernie’s and even his own should it wind up being one without wands.  

“Oh yeah, so who’s gonna make us get off then, you dirty goth slut?” Trevva asked incredulously, as his two friends stared the rest of them down in a quite antagonistic manner, as Josh and Williamson exchanged a quick knowing glance.  

“We’ll be at Euston soon,” Farzana said quickly, with a tone of frustration and impatience in her voice. “Let’s just confundus them now and be done with it.”

“You won’t do nuffink you blimmin’ paki!” Tel spat – and that was when it suddenly all kicked off.

Ernie MacMillan directed a punch at the much taller Tel as soon as the racist slur had left the muggle’s mouth. He stumbled slightly, but his friend Trevva soon got a strike of his own away, right into the former Hufflepuff prefect’s prim and proper face, sending him hurtling to the ground in a heap.

“You stay out of this,” Rhea ordered under her breath to Harry, as Williamson instantly jumped in to Ernie’s defence, as he sent a thundering right hand into Trevva’s nose, knocking him back a few steps, but surprisingly not down to the floor.

Morris laid a punch and a kick into Mark, who retaliated instantly by hurtling his half-empty beer can at Josh, splashing beer all over the muggle-born auror’s denim-jacket, whilst Rhea landed a heavy kick on Tel, who felt the full force of the half-French witch’s boot to his shin before she whacked him in the chin.

Farzana fought her way through and hit Tel with a vicious slap of her own as a receipt for his insult to her, before Willamson connected with another right hook to Trevva that did finally floor the tall baseball cap wearing muggle.

Harry jumped in to stop Tel from hitting Rhea, with the muggle’s knuckles slightly knocking into Harry’s head in the process. He felt momentarily dazed for a moment, before he heard a still-on-the-floor Ernie MacMillan yell “STUPEFY!” at the top of his lungs, soon after upon which a jet of red light hurtled into Tel, causing him to crash into the carriage door and down onto the floor.

Morris had a clearly defeated Mark pinned to the door, as the short man with the buzz cut looked absolutely horrified and in fear for his life having just witnessed his friend be knocked unconscious by magic.

The next station is Euston

“What in Merlin’s name has happened here?!” Femi Wakanda demanded, as she marched over with a concerned looking Neville and Conrad Proudfoot, who had rushed over from the other side of the carriage.  

Harry gave Williamson a hand pulling a slightly bloodied and dazed Ernie MacMillan back to his feet, as Williamson told Ernie off for using magic, before checking that his young trainee was alright and fussing over his injuries.  

“The muggles started it. Couldn’t be helped,” Williamson said quickly in Ernie’s defence, as an embarrassed looking Rhea pulled out her wand and started obliviating Trevva and Tel, as Morris did the same to Mark.

“All the same we’re on a tight schedule that doesn’t factor in fights with muggles or breaking the international statute of secrecy,” Wakanda grumbled, clearly unimpressed with the events that had transpired.

The train pulled into Euston and between Josh, Rhea and Harry they quickly managed to jostle the three muggles off of the train and onto the platform, as Williamson and Farzana began patching up Ernie’s face.

Wakanda used a voiceless spell to shut the carriage door as soon as the drunken muggles were off the train. Harry was not sure what type of magic she had used, but the electronic doors stayed shut even when several bewildered would-be passengers pressed the button on the door to get on.

“Luckily for us they don’t have any security cameras on these wretched things,” Wakanda muttered under her breath in a condescending fashion, as she shot Rhea a deeply unimpressed look.

Savage led the way as they made their way through the Camden Town underground station exit and into the night.

“BUY OR SELL FEEDER! FEEDER BUY OR SELL!” shouted a tall middle-aged white man in a thick black coat.

“FEEDER TICKETS BUY OR SELL!” bellowed another similarly dressed dark skinned muggle.

“There must be a gig on tonight,” Rhea noted to Harry and Josh as she guided them past without looking at the muggles. “They’re ticket touts. When a gig is sold out they sell tickets for it at double the price,” she added, with the sound of disdain and loathing in her voice.

“But how do they get the tickets if it’s already sold out?” Josh asked.

“They purposely buy a load when they go on sale specifically just to sell them on at a profit closer to the time,” Rhea replied.

“Is that even legal? To sell them on like that, just for a profit?” Harry enquired.

“No, not strictly speaking, but the muggle police don’t really bother enforcing it,” Rhea said. “I’m sure in the future when you can just buy and sell tickets on the internet it will cut these scummy touts right out of the equation though,” she added in a hopeful tone, as she checked behind to ensure that the other two groups were just behind them – they were, as Harry spotted a now blood-free Ernie MacMillan, with Williamson and Badwal making their way through the crowded Camden street.  

“BUY OR SELL FEEDER TICKETS! BUY OR SELL-

Harry spotted the next ticket tout abruptly stop his hollering, as he noticed a pair of muggle police officers dressed in the customary fluorescent yellow night-time wear. The muggle man calmly put his hands in his pockets and casually strolled off in the hope they hadn’t spotted him – and he was in luck, as they hadn’t.

The first two touts they had initially walked past at the station were not as fortunate though, as Harry looked behind and could see that they hadn’t notice the two coppers walking towards them.

“See look at that,” Josh began incredulously. “It’s so much easier for the muggle police. Those three drunk blokes would’ve never started on us if we were coppers.”

“Yes… quite,” Rhea added slightly absent-mindedly, seemingly caught in a deep-thought.

“BUY OR SELL TICKETS!” yelled a tall man with a deep voice directly ahead of them. “FALMOUTH FALCONS BUY OR SELL!”

The large figure stepped into the light and Harry instantly recognized him as Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Minister,” Rhea uttered formally, as Kingsley shot Harry a quick wink. They formed a semi-circle in-front of the Minster for Magic, with Williamson, Ernie and Badwal quickly joining, before Wakanda, Neville and Proudfoot formed in behind them too.

Harry saw Kingsley mutter something under his breath, but it was so quiet it was barely audible. His wand hand was still in his jacket pocket, so Harry guessed it must’ve been some kind of enchantment to stop passing muggles hearing what he was about to say to them.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware from your venture on the muggle underground,” Kingsley began, speaking quickly. “We’ve got an anti-apparation barrier secured in the area a mile wide in all directions. We can’t get in or out, but neither can they – and that’s all that matters. The Floo-network is on lockdown. Peasegood and Podmore are acting as air support, just in-case they have brooms and attempt to fly out.”

“Minister, surely you’re not going to be-

Kingsley interrupted the Head Auror with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“You will be pleased to know that I have heeded the Head of Magical Law Enforcement’s concerns that as Minister for Magic I should not be taking part in raids,” he said in an annoyed tone.

“Gawain is waiting for you not far from here, just keep walking straight ahead until you reach the phone box at the end of the road,” Kingsley said, before he gave Rhea a stern look. “I’ll be in the Mexican restaurant just across the street. If anything serious goes down you will send your patronus for me immediately… and that’s an order.”

“Yes Minister, sir,” Rhea replied swiftly, as Kingsley smiled a little, possibly still not used to being addressed as Minister or sir.

“I wish you all the best of luck,” Shacklebolt said, as he began to slowly stroll off in the opposite direction.

“And Rhea…” Kingsley barked, turning his head back round to face them all.

“Yes?” she replied confidently, although Harry sensed some nerves in her voice.

“Try not to take too long, girl! They’ve got 2 for 1 mojitos all night at this place. I can’t be duelling drunk at my age,” he sniggered.

“Just make sure you save some for us!” Josh shot back hopefully.

“You guys lock up those damned Lestrange brothers tonight – I’ll get you all so many mojitos that Proudfoot there will end the night puking up on another pair of Robards’ loafers!”

They followed the path that the pavement took them on for a few minutes in relative silence, until they reached the phone box and Robards revealed himself.

“Quickly! Behind me, single file,” he ordered, as Rhea formed a line behind their boss. Robards weaved through a back alley at a frantic pace that was as close to a sprint as he could manage, then led them out to a large opening by the lock.

“It’s that house over there,” he said quietly, pointing in the direction of a very derelict looking property about fifty metres away.

Harry thought it was quite generous to even call it a house. It looked more like a shack, not all that unlike the hut on the rock that Vernon had ferried them off to all those years ago.

“Took us a while to uncover it and make it visible to the naked eye. The muggles still can’t see it though,” Robards said. “It had some damn good protective charms on it. We’ve not breached the inner defences yet, so if they are in there they won’t know that we’ve found them yet.”

“Willamson,” he commanded.

“Yes, boss?” Williamson replied.

“Take MacMillan and Longbottom and secure the perimeter. You join them too, Proudfoot.”

Williamson and Proudfoot did as they were told without hesitation, ushering the two young apprentice Aurors along with them as they started casting protective enchantments around the nearby area as an additional defence.

“We’ll need heavy firepower to break the house’s defences,” he continued. “Savage. Wakanda. You’ll join me at the front. Badwal and Morris, you’ll act as cover.”

“Potter,” Robards muttered, as he put his hands into his worn-out woven woolly jacket.

“Yes,” Harry replied, eagerly anticipating his own orders from the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

“You’re on air support with Peasegood and Podmore,” he said sternly, pulling out what looked like a Cleansweep Eleven from an enchanted bag in his pocket.

Harry tried to hide his disappointment at what he felt was Robards trying to keep him out of harm’s way, but his boss seemed to have an innate ability to spot what he was thinking.

“You’re the best flyer we’ve got, son. Podmore’s not bad on a broom, but he’s no Harry Potter. Now get up there and sit tight,” he added, before giving Harry a firm pat on the back and heading over to the house with Savage, Wakanda, Morris and Badwal.

Harry did as he was told and got onto the broom and quickly ascended into the cloudy sky.

He saw what looked like Sturgis Podmore directly ahead of him, with another figure who he guessed must be Arnold Peasegood to his left.

The warm spring wind brushed against his exposed face as he flew up to meet them, before he banked left and turned to watch over the house like the other two were doing. Podmore gave him a nod of acknowledgement and Peasegood winked at him.

From where they were positioned they really did have a perfect bird’s eye view of the proceedings on the ground, as Harry could see Robards, Savage and Wakanda all armed with their wands slowly approaching the front of the house, with Morris and Badwal close behind them on either flank.

In the distance he could just make out Williamson and MacMillan setting up additional shield charms on one side, with Neville and Proudfoot doing the same on the other.

“You reckon those bastards are in there?” Peasegood pondered to nobody in particular.

Podmore didn’t respond, instead rolling his eyes slightly as he appeared to want to silently focus on the mission at hand.

“Life in prison’s not good enough for those scumbags,” Peasegood continued. “Sooner we catch ‘em, the sooner they can go the way of their master.”

Suddenly there was movement on the ground.

“EXCINDO TUTELA!” came the distant cries of Robards, Savage and Wakanda, as blinding bolts of blue came flying out of their wands and crashed into the front of the house.

Harry could not tell if they had broken the inner defences of the property, but Robards sent a probing bolt of yellow sparks, which seemed to go straight through the front door unopposed.

Gawain raised his arm and ushered the others to follow him onto the porch, before he stopped abruptly just outside the door, with his wand pointed out cautiously.

Harry heard an odd flickering type noise.

It almost sounded like the noise a golden snitch would make when it was fluttering around in the nearby vicinity.

He adjusted his ear slightly and thought that it rather sounded like a ticking kind of sound, like the one a muggle alarm clock might make.

It looked as though Savage and Robards were having a heated discussion about something on the ground, with Robards waving away whatever it was that Rhea was saying to him.

“Anyone else hear that weird ticking sound?” Peasegood enquired. “Almost sounds like a bomb or something-

“OH FUCK!” Podmore yelled, as Harry saw Josh Morris suddenly barge past both Savage and Robards, thrust them out of the way and loudly cast “PROTEGO!” at the top of his lungs.

The initial explosion of the bomb almost threw Harry off of his broom.

He scrambled to cling onto it as shards of debris and smoke came flying up into the sky at random.

Harry ducked and dived on instinct alone as his glasses became fogged up and he lost all of his senses.

His ears had been deafened by the great sound that came from the detonation and all he could hear now was a migraine inducing ringing noise piercing into his ear-drums.

As he slowly gained his composure he flew out of the now thick, black smoke and plummeted to the ground as quickly as he could.

He could just make out the figures of Podmore and Peasegood who had just landed themselves.

Harry pulled up alongside them as they rushed to survey the damage.

The derelict house that had once stood in-front of where they were standing was now nothing more than a pile of fiery rubble.

Harry saw an uncharacteristically weary looking Gawain Robards in a heap on the floor.

He was covered in black smoke and debris, but he was still breathing and alongside Peasegood and Williamson who had now rushed onto the scene they helped pull him up.

Robards coughed heavily, possibly having inhaled a lot of smoke.

“Don’t fucking worry about me,” he wheezed, taking a deep breath before coughing again. “Where are the others?!”

To their right Badwal and Ernie had spotted Wakanda and were slowly helping her rise to her feet. She looked like she’d injured her left leg when she’d fallen to the ground, but other than that she did not look too bad, although her once vibrant violet dress was now a shade of dusty, dirty brown.

“Savage!” Podmore cried loudly, as Neville and Proudfoot helped him magically elevate a large pile of wooden debris which looked like it was once the front door.

The door had shattered into several pieces and seemingly crashed straight into the Head Auror, striking and then trapping her onto the ground, although aside from a few cuts and bruises on her face she looked relatively unharmed in the grand scheme of things.

“Where’s Josh?” was all she could muster, as she too coughed heavily, having probably also inhaled a lot of smoke in the blast.

Harry helped the others as they used wingardium leviosa and other charms to quickly lift the fallen remains of the property to try and find Josh Morris amongst the wreckage.

It took a few minutes to find him, but Harry knew they must have located Josh when he heard Rhea cry out in horror.

Morris lay flat out on his back in a huge pile of blood, eyes closed, with his left arm laying prone and clearly broken.

Yet, it was his right arm that had taken the most damage in the explosion – as it lay five feet away from him, no longer attached to his body.

The flamboyant golden rings still sat on the fingers of his severed and crimson-soaked right hand, with the golden eagle staring directly up at Harry.

Podmore was the quickest to reach his fallen colleague, as a distressed Savage froze up in fear for her friend.

Sturgis put his hand out and reached down towards Josh’s neck, softly feeling around for a pulse.

“He’s still alive…just… but we need to get him to St Mungo’s… now!”

[mrneighbourlove]

Evil’s Bane: Ch 5. Belief Scattered

It must have felt like a good hour of walking through the fog together. No sound echoing in the cave or even their foot steps. As they kept traveling, Leere wanted to get to know Black more. “I never knew you were an undead all this time. How’d you get so good at hiding that fact?”

"Well, I'm not alive and I'm not dead, so I suppose you'd call me undead. Technically, I'm trapped in the moment of dying." Black explained to Leere, trying to recall what Bonegrinder told him. "Almost like being stuck in limbo, but I'm on earth still. It is said that I will not cease to be until I resolve my unfinished business. Yet, unlike other Wraiths, so I've been told, I'm not mindless."

“So what, you’re a Hellspawn?”

"No, I'm not a demon, just... a trapped soul, I suppose." Black shrugged once. "I'm not exactly sure how to explain it. Necromancy doesn't effect me, so I might not be completely undead, just... odd."

"Black is no Hellspawn, tiny princess, just a unique individual." Bonegrinder told Leere. "Years and years ago, this old snake found Black wandering in a swamp near Yenaldooshi in Omisha. He was able to help him regain part of his memories."

"I recalled that I was traveling back home from Al-Daida with my family and someone had double crossed me."

Leere gave Black a look. There was a weird tilt of her head, as if she was trying something out, and after a moment, she smiled with a simple hum to herself.

"If you have a better explanation, I'm all ears." Black's glowing lavender eyes curved in good humor from behind his head wrap, his body hidden beneath several layers of flowy clothes.

"There have been very few Wraiths that Bonegrinder has seen in this lifetime." The Anagari then admitted. "Even this snake has not all the answers on some issues, but an idea."

“Your soul and body certainly have unique characteristics. Much different then most undead I’ve encountered. And you certainly have control of your own body.”

"That much is true, though I am still trying to figure out what my unfinished business is." Black admitted to the Shadow Sage. "I thought it was to get revenge for my family. Yet, I didn't cease to be after I found their killer."

“You fulfilled your duty in avenging your family, but your destiny lies elsewhere.” Leere pondered a little more about his situation. Spirits, physical or otherwise, usually had a purpose for lingering on the mortal plane after death. “Perhaps you must bring unity to someone else?”

Suddenly as if they were stepping out of a portal, the fog disappeared. They knew they had been walking at a slow incline down, so the sight before the party of travellers was unexpected. An open area with sky was set upon their eyes. Only this time it was not as much a pretty sight. The sky was dreary with clouds hiding any blue. Replacing grasslands was an eerie forest landscape, with many dead trees amongst puke green pine trees. Finally, there was more earth then grass.

"This is what he recalls from the last time he was in this land." Bonegrinder's features contorted into disgusted frown. "Decay."

“I don’t sense anything too off, but be on guard.” Leere sensed life wasn’t dead, but had simply stopped in time was the best choice of wording. As they kept walking, they eventually found a path to walk along. “Civilization ahead?”

"Yes, there should be... unless that has changed as well." Bonegrinder did not sound too enthused about the prospect of seeing more residents of the land of Malus. "This snake still says its not too late to turn back."

Leere looked up to see a couple fairies fly overhead. They looked more insect like, but paid no attention to the group. “Bonegrinder, you promised me a day. You going to use it complaining?”

"He will use it to wipe his scaled ass, complain as much as he likes, and remind you repeatedly that this is a bad idea." The Anagari's tail twitched. "We should not even be here."

"That means he's irritated." Black murmured to Leere.

Leere observed her surroundings with a sigh. Suddenly, they heard talking from nearby. With a hand single, she issued Black and Bonegrinder to be quiet so they’d investigate. Near a lake, there were two men, gutting fish they caught.

"Fuck." Bonegrinder grumbled under his breath when Leere caught sight of the 'local natives'.

“Kenshi. How much longer must we wait?”

“We’ll be gone soon Lang. The whereabouts of my daughter are unknown, but I’m certain this lake is where the anomalies originate from.”

Leere watched the two men; both had darker hair like her. After much consideration, she decided to slowly approach them.

Before Leere could get too far, Bonegrinder's tail whipped out, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. "What. Are. You. Doing?!"

“Engaging the locals. We have to form communication or we’ll get nowhere.” Leere gritted her teeth at him in hushed whispers. She didn’t like to be man handled like a child.

"We do not know if they're friendlies or hostiles." Black reminded Leere. "It's best to observe firstly."

"Listen to the assassin, tiny princess, he knows better than you do."

From over ahead, a fairy looked down at them. The little insect seemed to scowl at them. Slowly, it flew over to the two men. They stopped their conversation, and listened to the fairy. Suddenly they tensed, looking over to the hiding spot of the group. They both jolted upwards, grabbing sheathed swords. “Kenshi! Go back to the village! Another monster has somehow broken through the barrier, this time in day light!”

"... I'm assuming that means you, Bonegrinder." Black mused dryly with a tiny smirk. "Cause I do not sense any other monsters around here."

"Fuck Prama and Dhakk sideways..." Bonegrinder cursed under his breath. "... go catch them."

"As you wish."

"But don't kill them yet, we need information."

Leere decided to try and run out toward them. “Stop! I’m a Mortuus! I’m friendly!”

The man Leere identified by observation as Lang took a stance, drawing his sword. This revelation only made him more on guard. “You are not from either village.”

Black earned his nickname for being able to blend into the shadows initially, however, he was quite adept at hiding in any environment. In order to keep Kenshi from escaping, the Wraith simply pinned the Mortuus against a rotting tree, both hands trapped behind the back. "I have the second one, Bonegrinder." "Good. We require information." The Anagari slithered out from his spot, eying Lang. "Drop that sword before this snake removes your hand for threatening the tiny princess."

Lang was memorized by the gigantic beast slivering down from the tree line. “The gods really are abandoning us...” Tightening his grip on his blade when he saw Kenshi be pinned, the man planted his feet. “You must be from the capital. I won’t let you take me without a fight.”

Leere glanced over to Black, standing between both Lang and Bonegrinder. “Will you two stand down?! My name is Leere Dragmire. I am a Sage of Hyrule investigating a dark source of evil coming from Malus. I know that there are innocents trapped here. I’m a friend that wishes to help you. If my companion releases your friend, will you lower your guard?”

Lang, looked to Kenshi. He only slightly lowered his stance. “Release my friend.”

"Put down your sword first." Bonegrinder was incredibly stubborn. "Raising a blade at a lady is no small thing."

"Bonegrinder, I believe Leere can handle herself. After all, that sword is very... rusty." Black used basic logic. "And unkept."

"... very well. Though harm her, and this Anagari will remove your head from your shoulders." Black released Kenshi, almost chucking when the Mortuus scrambled away from him.

Kenshi stood by Lang’s side, the latter paying closer attention to Bonegrinder as he sheathed his sword. “You said you came from the outside? It should be impossible for a monster of your size to enter. The barrier of Destroyah disintegrates monsters and demons bigger than a house cat from entering. Not the mention the guardian Mata keeps an eye out for the demonic.”

"Bonegrinder is neither demonic or a monster..." Black stated, earning a blank glance from the two Mortuus. "Let me rephrase that, Bonegrinder is neither demonic nor a monster of these regions. He hails from Omisha, not of Hellspawn origins."

"Pitiful, magical barriers and ancient Colossi are nothing more than pests." Bonegrinder stated bitterly. "Destroyer's works are sloppy."

“Omisha... the land of the cowards who bask in the sun. That’d explain your appearance. Still, we should have been protected from your kind entering too.”

Leere felt tensions start to rise. “What matters is that none of us wish to bring you harm. I merely wish to learn. Can you bring us to your village?”

Both men looked to each other, then spoke in a language, or perhaps code Leere didn’t understand.

Suddenly, Bonegrinder had Lang up off the ground by his neck, his tail wrapped dangerously tight around the Mortuus' throat. He brought the man closer to his face, fangs exposed and snarling. The Anagari was pissed. To keep Kenshi in place, he wrapped the man in his coils. "You dare call us Echidnans cowards when your kind tried to drown the world in Hellspawn? Tortured the innocent? Slaughtered villages full of children?" Bonegrinder's jaw was unhinged, highly tempted to rip out the man's throat. Black warned Leere that there was a reason why the Anagari detested Malus. This country was the responsible for the demise of his home. "It makes this snake wonder if you were worth saving after you killed so many of us alongside Dhakk for choosing to follow Prama."

“BONEGRINDER!!!” On instinct, a large shadowy hand gripped Bonegrinder by the hair, pulling him away from Lang as another shadow hand caught the man from falling. “Do not escalate tensions! I did not bring you here to frighten innocents! Stop acting like a monster!” Both the men were afraid, both by Bonegrinder and by Leere’s magic. “She’s a sorcerer.”

“Just like the elder and Bi-Hanzo.”

Leere glared Bonegrinder down as her shadows calmed down. Slowly, she turned back to the pair. “I overheard you had a missing daughter. I’m a mother myself. Perhaps I can assist you.”

Kenshi nodded. “Yes... Lang. Go to the village and warn them to not attack the Echidnan on sight. I’ll stay with the group and walk with them as a sign of trust...”

Lang, not wanting to be anywhere near Bonegrinder, agreed. “Gladly.”

"He is a monster, Leere," Bonegrinder was angry with the princess for using her magic on him. He leaned down and growled, "It matters not to him the lives of those who could be responsible for the death of his family. Prama agreed to this folly because he wishes for some good to come to this God-forsaken land." The snake warned her, "You are innocent of the crimes of Malus, Leere. The others are not. Friend or foe is not debatable here."

Black was not one for expressing emotion with his stoic face, but even he grimaced at Bonegrinder's icy words. It was rather clear the hate that the Anagari had for this country. Yet, as the shaman slithered off a distance from the princess to cool his head, the Wraith approached Leere. "I apologize." Black said to the Shadow Sage, "I should have warned you of his ire. It is nothing against you, Leere. There are certain horrors that he does not wish to recall and old wounds that have never healed. Perhaps I should go forward with you and have Bonegrinder wait here. I understand your mission, but he... is having a difficult time."

“If he feels he needs to distance himself, then fine.” Leere gestured for Black to follow her as Kenshi lead the way. “All enemies or all allies view is a narrow one though.”

"How would you feel if you had to traverse into the country responsible for the death of your family?" The Wraith asked Leere, curious of her answer. "From what I remember of my human days, I think I would be afraid... and angry."

The shadow sage was sad that her friend couldn’t keep his emotions in check, worried she comprised her relationship with the village before even meeting them. When they arrived at the village, it was a small town, but held a decent enough community. A town hall, a saloon, multiple houses and a church were present buildings seen. Many Mortuus gathered around, astonished by news of outsiders. With so many red eyes on her, Leere could see how tired many of them were. “Hello. I am Leere. Mortuus of Hyrule.”

She was greeted with silence in return. Some of them went back to their daily routines immediately, but kept an eye on her. One man approached, narrowing his gaze at her. “Lang tells me you travel with an Echidnan. Where is it?”

As Black followed Leere to the village, he kept a keen lookout. His master was not too far, he could still sense the Anagari. Though, something felt... a touch off here. The residents looked like sleep had eluded them for ages. "Bonegrinder felt it was best to hold back, lest he..." Black thought of the appropriate word. "Scare the masses." He then inquired. "Why do you ask?"

“As this villages remaining experienced protector, I demand all parties are accounted for.” The man had an air about him that the others didn’t, that he could back up his demands. “The masses live in constant fear of unknown dangers. If he was here, he wouldn’t be unknown.”

Leere held a hand back to him. “He’ll be here shortly. What is your name, if I might ask?”

“I am Bi-Hanzo. Member of the Order of Balance.”

"Balance?" That caught Black's interest. "As in Kaksa? Mother Goddess?"

It was Bi-Hanzo’s first moment to be intrigued. “Yes. The very same. Though I am a dying breed. Both Destroyah and Proxamus, the names we give for Life and Destruction gods, had a hand in Malus’ creation. Our magic of necromancy was fuelled to please Proxamus. Yet both gods haven’t graced us in thousands of years. In time, the factions of Mortuus fell to darkness, blind in dedication to either. Few know of balance and try to keep these communities alive. There is no escape from Malus. Only survival.”

That was a monumental amount of information Leere absorbed. “Well, that’s good. Because I think the Destroyer is on the rise in Malus, and many of you are in grave peril.”

It seemed his master was correct about one issue; the people of Malus had lost hope. He had heard the tales of creation and destruction from his time when he was alive. Then, he learned more as a Wraith underneath Bonegrinder's tutelage. Yet, he was unsure of who was friend or foe. Perhaps a small test was needed... "We are here to seek answers." Black informed Bi-Hanzo. "For the prophecy."

“Prophecy? Those are many, and have many interpretations. Come, I will take you to the elder.”

Before Leere could follow Bi-Hanzo, Black placed his hand on the Shadow Sage's shoulder, silently asking her not to move just yet. "And how do we know this isn't a ploy?"

“I don’t. But I do this thing called taking a leap of faith? Can you jump yourself Black?”

"Jump, run, hide, take your pick. Though you must understand our caution." Black told the man, "The stories we have heard are most unsettling."

“They are most likely true. However, is every fallen leaf red?”

"Only if it's soaked up blood from the ground."

Black’s view on judging people by one cover was unsettling to the woman, discouraging even. It was when Bi-Hanzo added his thoughts to Leere and Black’s exchange of metaphors. “Ah. You can only see violence. That, is why your vision is flawed.”

Leere liked the man’s thinking, nodding along. Some villagers followed the group to a church near a graveyard looking down on the village. Knocking on the door, Bi-Hanzo waited. Finally, he opened the door to the church and gestured the pair to go inside. Leere did so without fear. Inside were very old bleachers, scratched wooden pillars, and a cross hanging on the wall. At the alter, a woman was sitting down reading a book wrapped in leather.

Bi-Hanzo respectfully bowed to the elder. “Lady Jackalen. There is a Mortuus, an undead, and an Echidnan here. Somehow, they penetrated the protective barriers to our small realm.”

"A Wraith, thank you, not an undead. There's a difference. I think." Black insisted as he looked around the church. It was better kept than the whole village. It also made him feel slightly uneasy. Was it because he was trapped between death and life?

Leere walked forward, bowing her head. When she approached the woman, she noticed how white her eyes were. “I am Leere Dragmire. Shadow Sage of Hyrule. I don’t want to alarm you, but I believe your people are in grave danger.”

“A sage? My... how young you look.” The elder cackled lightly to herself. “And you are correct. My people are indeed in danger. Or countless generations, we’ve been kept safe. Despite how much they might have changed, Destroyah and Proxamus gave us a way to protect our pocket realms from the outside world. Only now, within the last decade, those who isolated themselves from the outside world have been going silent. Communities we once shared a psychic communication with snuffed out. We didn’t know what caused this. Until two weeks ago. Devilish abominations coming out in the night to kill and steal away those who live here. Despite all my magics, I can’t find the source of where they reside.”

"Hellspawns." Black stated at the elder's words. "They're good at hiding and lurking around in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to strike. Difficult to track too if they're being aided by another source of magic. I'm surprised they haven't overrun the village yet." He glanced at the few people in the church. "Perhaps they're looking for someone."

“I’ve fought against several unidentified creatures, killed a few, but there’s always more, and there’s always someone taken.” Bi-Hanzo gripped the sides of his coat uncomfortably.

Leere pried for more information. She needed to know what specific danger lied in the shadows of this country. “Do you know if any evil spirits or gods have risen in Malus?”

The elder shook their head. “We do not. No gods have answered our prayers. And we know little of outside this realm of protection. It is our bubble. Our way of life.”

"... what prophecy do you know of?" Black decided to skip past the doom and gloom and search for answers. "My master requires answers."

“Which one? There are many Wraith. Mostly about their chosen god raising hell upon the earth. Some hope a saviour will liberate Malus from torment. Some think they will be servants while all their enemies will become slaves. Even here, some make sacrifices and offerings to their chosen lord in hopes of having their wishes granted.”

"The prophecy my master has long believed is of a young woman of fire, born of a mother of death, would be the host of Kaksa, the Mother Goddess." Black decided there was no harm in elaborating. There were various versions of the prophecy, but all resulted in the same ending. "Dhakk and Prama would have a choice to make. Either they would fight each other, or fight against Chaos."

“Chaos? Ahhhh.”

Leere looked to Black, unsure by the elder’s reaction. “What about Chaos?”

“Hehehe. Oh... oh! This is rich. I remember you now.” The elder’s white eyes were glossed over on Leere. “You were the one who’s parents fled. There are many in Malus who worship Destroyah or Proxamus. Few worship and know of Balance. But very little dared to be of the Cult of the Devil. The Devil came from Chaos you know. Evil was born of Chaos. That evil has a special connection in Malus. Those who served Proxamus were wise to kill those who worshiped the Devil.”

Leere’s comfort levels went from a 10 to a 1 real fast. “I know very little about my birth parents.”

“But you hold the markings, don’t you? I can sense it. Feel it. Hmmm. You’re marked for sacrifice.” Lady Jackalen walked away towards a book shelf, trying to find a specific text.

Black sensed Leere's abrupt uneasiness. The mentioned of Chaos certainly caught the old woman's attention. There were several names for this horrible god of discord, though he knew just a few; Teufel and Tzitzimime. Leere, she almost looked... slightly panicked. Like she was not expecting the elder to recall her or her despicable parents.

“Yes. Here we are.” The elder returned, placing a book down with a face as the cover. Flipping the page, she showed an illustration of the exact tattoo Leere had on her back. “This is it, isn’t it? Ah, no need for words. Your expression tells me enough. You are slated for sacrifice.” Leere looked much paler than usual. “I was. Past tense.”

“Heh heh heh. Present tense, I’m afraid. I can... I can feel the gate on you has been altered. But you are still a viable gateway if there were those who wished to use you.”

“For what?”

“A summoning of great and vile torment to be resurrected.” Flipping the pages, she went through many horrifying sketches of alien looking monstrosities. “Chaos has many spawns of its own. But it’s also a being, by nature, that is fractured. The body, a heart, mind, soul. Chaos is many. The Devil would like it all back. And you, just like one in every generation of Mortuus, carry a seed of resurrection in you. Congratulations on such a terrible fate.”

Bonegrinder had once told Black some time ago that he wished to save the 'tiny princess' from her fate. He really did not know what the Anagari spoke of then, but now, he understood. The assassin recalled the times that Leere was angry with the giant snake for keeping the details of her past from her. She wanted to know and now she did. Yet, Black could not help but feel sorry for her... and for Bonegrinder. The Anagari tried so hard to keep this knowledge from Leere.

Leere looked away when she saw the creature that oozed from her spine when Bonegrinder removes a sigil so long ago. “How did you deal with these children before?”

“We killed them before they could pose a threat to the world. Proxamus would have understood. Destroyah would agree. And it’s what Balance would have desired. And no, before you ask, I don’t think it wise to order your execution. That said, I don’t know why you’ve come here. There is no escape from Malus.”

“What if I can help you? Everyone who is here find a way out?”

“Dear child. That is gullible thinking. Naive. Even if you save us, there are still other villages. I doubt you can find them all.”

"How dare you think you have the power to speak for Kaksa." Bonegrinder was as sneaky as always, having found his way to the church, following Leere's scent. He managed to slip inside through the back, and was now on his usual lounging spot; the ceiling. He had coiled his massive body around the chandeliers, dust falling from above. It was clear the snake was in a foul mood even more so now. "The Mother Goddess abhors the murder of innocent children, even those who had no say in what happened to them. No, this is your failure. Failing to protect them."

"... and this is my master." Black stated with a stoic face. "Bonegrinder."

Lady Jackalen didn’t look surprised. Bi-Hanzo fists glowed a blue aura, but he kept his ground. The elder looked up, frowning lightly. “A swift end is preferable to torture they’d have gone through. It has been a long, long time since I’ve seen one of your kind. Still arrogant. Still boastful of living in better lands. After all, the Mother is part of the reason we remain trapped here. Besides, the children after death could be resurrected. They just needed their minds, not their souls.”

Leere was a little disgusted by that statement. “How old are you? How many souls have you taken?”

“Old enough. Blood magic is a gateway to soul manipulation. As I know you know.” The elder walked over to a seat, taking a moment to sit down. “Although, there’s something about you too, Echidnan. Something faint.”

"And your kind are nothing but slaughterers of the innocent." Bonegrinder hissed through gritted fangs. "Mother of the Monsters erected the barrier because your people decided to play with Chaos' little pets. We Echidnans will not apologize for protecting ourselves and our homeland." The Anagari scoffed as the Elder tried to analyze him. "You know nothing of this old snake, old woman."

"Bonegrinder is ancient like you, lady." Black had no filter.

“Ha. You think yourself a light to our darkness? Yourself righteous? You know that we desired help, yet you turned us away. All lands did. Or they enslaved us. Such was the design of those who fell to true darkness in Malus.”

"Why would Echidnans want to help the kind responsible for the rampaging of their homes? Friend or foe, the Mortuus are two faced." Bonegrinder snorted. "You are going senile, old woman, if you think we would do such a thing." He slid down the wall of the church, settling beside of Leere and Black. "Do you understand now why this snake did not want to bring you here, tiny princess? There is nothing for you here."

“Bi-Hanzo, what do you think? Do you wish freedom from Malus?”

The man was surprised Leere had the fortitude to address him so quickly. “I’d wish it more than anything.”

Leere turned her attention away from the elder and Bonegrinder. “Then I don’t know how long it will take, but I can take you and your people away from this all.”

“I don’t know if I can trust your friend. Unless...”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you stay the night. Protect my village.”

This could be a way of discovering the evil that plagued her dream. Nodding, Leere held an arm out to shake. “I accept.”

Before Bonegrinder, Black, or Lady Jackalen could disagree, Bi-Hanzo shook her hand. “A woman of her word? I look forward to it.”

"You don't have to like my master, but I would highly advise trusting him." Black told Bi-Hanzo and Lady Jackalen. "He knows more than you think he does."

"Let the people believe what they wish, Black, it is of no consequence to this snake." Bonegrinder dismissed the thought from the assassin's viewpoint. "You know what they think of him and you know what he thinks of them."

"What about the prophecy, Bonegrinder?"

"If they do not wish to speak of their prophecy, it matters not. We know what we need to know."

“Come, I will take you to the saloon. You can rest there until nightfall.”

~

In the darkness of Malus’ infamous great city, deep within a castle wall, creatures scuttled about in the shadows. A mechanical bug crawled along the walls, reaching a man and hissing into his ear. The man paused, patiently listening. Entering a private chamber, his voice echoed in a loud whisper. The man himself was nearly a silhouette of a man, a terrible tall blackness covered in robes and with crimson eyes. “Your brother has slithered his way into Malus it seems.”

"I was wondering when Prama would make the mistake of following that vessel into this realm." Dhakk was as studious as always, surrounded by books. He was looking for a way to rid himself of this earthly host and return to the heavens beside of his beloved Kaksa. Even after all this time, he still longed to be by her side, even if she did prefer his brother. She would never give Prama a second thought after he wiped his brother's existence from history.

Even in candle light, the shadow man was still pure blackness as he walked closer. He more of a shape, he had two horns that helped with a frightful appearance. “The Shadow Sage has also finally come to Malus.”

"Ah... now that is an interesting revelation." Dhakk actually looked up from his book, those glowing turquoise eyes seemingly amused. "The vessel was chosen as the Shadow Sage. Maybe the spirits took pity on her plight."

“There are many of us who wish to use her. Our master wants to make you a deal, Destroyah.” The whisper was like a lullaby to the gods ears.

"I usually do not deal with messengers." Dhakk returned his gaze to his books. "If your master wants a deal, then he can ask me in person."

A pause, for a moment, and the air turned to a chill. “I am asking you.” The candle lights went out, with only the glow of each others eyes in the room giving away the terror both could give. “You deal with an avatar of my will. It’s taxing to make one. You have my respect Dhakk that I let you communicate with one. I know you can be respectful yourself.”

"... a fragment, that you are. But part of Chaos nonetheless." Dhakk still did not look too interested. "What business do you want with me? If you are looking for a way to get to Kaksa, then you're out of luck. I'm sure you heard about her little fit when she tossed my brother and I from the heavens."

“She helped Hylia sever me from my power as well. A power I’m well on my way from achieving once more.” The shadow wisped around the room, holding Dhakk’s shoulders lightly. “What if I helped you gain revenge on your brother in exchange for helping me in return?” His whisper was alluring to listen to. “You keep the snake, and I get what I want from the woman.”

"Tempting. Dare I ask how you plan to achieve this?" Dhakk wanted more details. "Bound to his host or not, my brother Prama is still a very powerful being. How do you plan to enact this 'revenge'? I care not of the woman."

“The woman holds a powerful piece of my essence locked within her. If you complete a ritual to bring this being out of her, you will summon forth a demon to surpass Demise. Alone, it would rip apart the physical fabric of your brother. With you, there’d be no struggle from your brother to be had. From there, he is a soul, and a soul can be scattered, trapped, or lost to time and space. And I know something else that would entice you.”

"As I said before, tempting, but what could be better than gloating as Prama is ripped into a thousand pieces?"

“Hurting those he cares about.” The red eyes glew as the whisper grew insidious. “How he hurt you in taking away your love from you. You can take away the friendships he has. You can make him a failure before you rip him to pieces. Make his friends suffer; make him powerless to stop it.”

"That sounds like a glorious bit of destruction that is making me twitch in anticipation." Dhakk chucked with a sinister grin. "I don't suppose you had a few of these friends in mind?"

“The woman Leere needs to suffer for the ritual to be completed. I know Bonegrinder cares for her the most. Do anything you desire to her, so long as she feels every pain. There is also a subordinate of his known as Black in Malus with them. A Wraith, but he can be made to experience pain. I will lead them to the capital, from there your followers and mine will separate them. With enough time, the woman will unleash the Demon, and I will give it strength to kill your brother, but not before he wallows in the agonizing torment of having lost his friends.”

"Hrm... suffering can be physical or mental. Perhaps a mixture of both would work." Dhakk then was surprised to learn of a Wraith. He always thought of Black as an undead puppet. This was certainly interesting news. "Prama's demise will lead Kaksa right back into my arms. Though, I must say, I am rather curious as to why you'd want to help me. After all, Prama and I helped Kaksa lock you away all those years ago. Do you just want to claim this world as your own? Something that is yours, perhaps?"

“I want the bodies of the mortals that Hylia loved to pile up. That’ll be a start. And I live in the moment. I’m adaptable Dhakk.” The shadow danced around to face the god directly. “We have a deal?”

"Very well. We have a deal." Dhakk agreed with the avatar of Chaos. "So... when do I start?"

Teufel’s shadow man shook his hand, his eyes flickering in and out. The Devil had made his contract. “Now.”

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/625816676434313216/evils-bane-ch-4-dangerous-uncharted-territory

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626094342071828480/evils-bane-ch-6-yield-to-damnation

[nellie-elizabeth]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Manhunter/Captain Kim (7x01/02)

This really should be split into two different reviews, but I am lazy so here we are. Let's dive in!

Cons:

The first episode this week featured a subplot where Amy thought she might be pregnant. I know it's just a one-off thing in terms of episode composition, but it bothered me that in the premiere of the season, Rosa and Amy's plot thread was them standing around and talking about pregnancy. They didn't really have much else to do, which was a bummer and a slightly weak opening for these two characters.

Terry had the least to do of any character, in both of these episodes. In the first, he's paranoid that other people are talking about him, and in the second, he's talking up his daughters to someone involved in a good school he wants to get them into, and then avoiding a caterer who he thinks is trying to poison him for putting him in prison years ago. Even this slightly more exciting plot thread didn't really provide much for him to do. This is just the start of the season; I'm sure he'll have plenty in the coming weeks... but I thought I'd point it out!

The first episode, "Manhunter," started with the news that there was an attempted assassination, but despite the supposedly high stakes, the whole thing devolves into a story about Holt and Jake finding a new balance after Holt's demotion. That's a lovely story to tell, but it kind of sucked the urgency out of the whole "assassination" thing.

Pros:

I absolutely loved the guest character Debbie, Holt's partner now that he's a beat cop for a year. She was so funny - I loved that she was totally content and indeed relieved to be given pointless tasks, and relegated to "cone duty." Her whole story kept unfolding as the episode went on, in absurd and funny moments. After spending time with this bubbly and slightly incompetent woman, who's obsessed with a pedometer app, she suddenly declares that the reason she became a cop was to find her twin sister's killer... and later randomly lets everyone know that it's her birthday. She was hilarious and kind of relatable too. I'll admit there have been times at work when I too would be okay with being given unimportant tasks instead of anything too urgent!

I also really liked the Jake and Holt dynamic in this first episode, as Jake of course respects and loves Holt, but at the same time, doesn't want him stealing his thunder on this case. It's awkward to suddenly be the "boss" of your former Captain, and I think they play with that tension very well. Especially the conclusion, wherein Holt is right about the case for the most part, but Jake and the others still have to come in and save the day. Holt then apologizes for disrespecting Jake's authority, while Jake acknowledges that it's going to be a little strange to get used to their new situation. That was a good balance, wherein both men were able to communicate openly!

Despite wishing Rosa and Amy had maybe a little bit more to do, I did enjoy the beginning of the "Jake and Amy start a family" story-line. A pregnancy scare leads Amy and Jake to contemplate whether it might be time to start trying for real, and they decide that it is. I liked this because it shows real growth for both characters. Amy, the meticulous planner, is willing to let her schedule fall by the wayside and start letting things happen as they may. And Jake, who has been afraid of being a father, doesn't have a relapse or freak out at the thought of Amy becoming pregnant. I love this adorable couple and want the best for them!

The second episode I found to be stronger than the first. A new captain has shown up, and Jake and Holt are both suspicious of Captain Kim. They think she must be working to bring them down from the inside. While the rest of the precinct is taken in by Kim's kindness and the effort she takes to get to know them, Holt and Jake refuse to be swayed. They hunt for clues at a party Kim throws at her house, and end up releasing her pet dog from a locked room, which causes chaos. Turns out, Kim did actually have good intentions. She wanted to be a captain at the Nine-Nine because Holt is her hero, overcoming so much to become captain. In the end, though, she realizes she'll always feel like an interloper, and decides to leave. Because of Jake and Holt's meddling, they've lost a great captain who was planning on stepping gracefully away at the end of the year to let Holt come back!

I was really glad there wasn't some twist with Kim, that she really was a good person who just wanted to get to know them and work with them. Of course, that wouldn't bring very much drama moving forward, so now we're going to have to see what comes next for the precinct!

While the first episode had Holt and Jake at odds, the second episode had them teaming up to investigate Kim, each having their own reasons for suspecting her. I love the two of them as scene partners; they work so well playing opposite each other, and also being allies. They rile each other up in the best ways. I think my favorite Holt moment was when he's seeking motivation for being drunk and destructive at the party, and lists a few possibilities - a fight with Kevin, something happening to Cheddar, and then lands on a scenario wherein he's been demoted and he feels rejected and abandoned by his chosen family... he and Jake agree that this last scenario seems like a good idea!

My favorite comedic exchange actually goes to Jake and Amy though, right towards the end. As Jake recounts his step-daddy issues, he recalls that the two separate men who dated and cheated on his mother had been limo drivers. The following exchange takes place:

Jake: "*gasp*! The problem is with limo drivers!"

Amy: "Babe, it's not."

Jake: "It's not?"

Amy: "No."

Jake: "Okay thanks, I love you."

It's just such a casual, familiar little routine. Jake gets a wild idea, Amy calmly rejects Jake's premise, and Jake, who trusts Amy's gut more than his own, thanks her for keeping him in check. Their dynamic is the best!

Boyle had funny subplots in both episodes. In the first, he decides to be Jake's sidekick on the case. While Jake is the "Manhunter," Boyle is the "Boyhunter." This obviously leads to hilarity, as he continually says things that sound oh so wrong. I just find it so charming how Boyle is okay with being the sidekick, and how he actually thrives in that role. He's the best.

The second episode hangs a lampshade on Boyle's "sidekick" status, however, having him gain confidence by wearing Rosa's leather jacket. He becomes a new "cooler" version of himself - Chuck Boyle. He has confidence with the ladies, struts around, and ends up calling Jake out on an unintentionally inappropriate comment, instead of the other way around. It's a fun switcharoo, and the resolution is lovely too. Boyle sacrifices his jacket to an insecure husband worried that his wife is going to leave him, and instantly his power is stripped from him, and he reverts to normal Charles. It's all silliness, but I really enjoyed it all the same. Boyle steps in to some more confident shoes, as it were, but he's not unhappy with the person he really is at the end of the day. (He does probably regret missing out on the chance to meet Sutton Foster, though... that made me laugh!)

There's more I could talk about here, but the first two episodes were pretty strong as they were! Some characters had less to do than others, especially Rosa and Terry. But I'm sure there will be chances further down the line for them to shine as well!

8/10

[amplesalty]

TV Binging: Pushing Daisies (2007-2009)

The facts were these...

At the risk of immediately dating this entry, the entire world is in the grip of a certain public health crisis right now and it seems everyone is taking that time to learn a new language, plunder their local supermarket for baking ingredients or just dive into that long neglected Netflix watchlist for something to pass the seemingly never-ending lockdown hours. For unknown reasons, my brain turned to the late noughties sensation of Pushing Daisies. Maybe because it’s relatively short, only two seasons totaling 22 episodes, or maybe it was a means of finally putting it to bed after two previous failed attempts to watch it all.

For the uninitiated, the show centers around Ned, a small business owner with the unique ability of being able to bring the dead back to life with just a touch of his finger, albeit with a few asterisks attached. Chief amongst them is that if he touches that person or thing again, they go back to being dead, permanently. And, if that person or things stays living for longer than sixty seconds then the power of the Universe, the Grim Reaper or Final Destination kicks in and takes something else in its place. This was something Ned learned at a very young age when his mother died suddenly of a brain aneurysm and in the act of bringing her back to life, he inadvertently killed the father of his neighbour and childhood sweetheart, Charlotte ‘Chuck’ Charles.

Cut to 20 years in the future, or 19 years, 34 weeks, 1 day and 59 minutes later as the narrator so handily informs us, young Ned has become ‘the pie-maker’, running The Pie Hole where he’s able to massively slash his overheads by being able to make delicious pies by simply bringing rotting fruit back to life to serve as his ingredients. It’s amazing the profits you can turn when you can entirely cut out the middle man of fruit suppliers isn’t it?

Plus he makes a little money on the side by helping a local PI named Emerson Cod. Why do all the hard work of investigating a crime when you can simply have a corpse brought back to life for sixty seconds, long enough to ask them who killed them.

It’s through this little business arrangement that Ned stumbles upon the unfortunate news that Chuck’s body was fished from the sea after she seemingly fell overboard on a cruise. With the prospect of a $50,000 reward for information on her passing, Cod is quick to get on the case but in the heat of the moment, Ned has other motives than money and neglects to re-dead his childhood crush.

Thus the series blossoms into what I would describe as a murder mystery meets fairy tale type show, with Chuck now tagging along as one of the Scooby Gang as they solve a new case every week. That’s probably a pretty apt comparison too considering Ned’s dog is often around too, a dog that he also brought back to life and has been keeping around for twenty years. Though, Ned isn’t a massive stoner and Cod doesn’t wear an ascot. He does have a couple of knitted gun holsters though if you want to equate that as his ‘fruity’ accessory.

The reward is something that feels a little shoehorned in early on, they always seem to go out of their way to make a point of saying something like ‘police are baffled and are offering a reward that leads to an arrest’ just so there’s a reason for Cod to get involved. It does eventually settle into someone coming to Cod directly to hire his services, whether that be a grieving widow or family member of a falsely accused wanting to clear their relatives name. That just made a bit more sense to me. You kinda have to look past the fact that the police never seem to be actively involved in any of these cases as well, allowing Cod and co to just swan around doing their thing until they’re able to turn in the real killer at the end of the episode and cash their reward. It always seems that they have a knack of turning up like two minutes too later to someones murder. They do make a point of turning this on its head in one episode though when they find Ned at a murder scene and figure him as the killer.

And maybe it’s just me being a chauvinistic pig but good lord you cannot escape boobs in this show. Or maybe not just me, punch ‘Pushing Daisies cleavage’ into Google dot com and it looks like a few people were talking about this at the time. It felt like one of those things that, once I noticed it, I just couldn’t unsee it. Women always leaning over or camera shots from above looking down their dresses. Just cleavage everywhere. It seems to come up at slightly inappropriate times, like Chuck’s aunts who are socially repressed and virtual shut ins but are stilled dressed up the nines, boobs pushed up and spilling out.

It kinda makes sense for Olive though, waitress at the Pie Hole and with a thing for Ned so she’s just trying to seduce him but without much luck. Doesn’t mean they don’t go out of their way to show off the twins outside the restaurant though such as when Olive takes ownership of the swimming costumes that Chuck’s aunts used to use as part of their synchronized swimming stage show.

Speaking of Kristin Chenoweth’s set of lungs, she gets to show off her musical background a few times throughout the show by breaking into song . It feels a little out of place as there isn’t any other musical acts in the show but she does a great job.

A more family friendly point of design is just how beautiful this show looks at times. Like, pretty much the first thing you see in episode one is young Ned and his dog running through down a vast hillside of flowers. It’s a really vibrant use of colour that runs throughout the whole show, whether it’s sets or costumes, and really adds to this whole fantasy vibe aided by the fantastical nature of Ned’s special power.

Businesses that pop up as part of the story have these grand, bespoke designed buildings that seem like they would never logically exist in the real world like this honey business with a beehive theme...

...and interior decorations  centered around hexagons.

Even something as clinical as the city morgue almost leaps off the screen with a bold red and white striped building. Though, I feel having an entrance labelled ‘deliveries’ brings back a little bit of the coldness you would expect. They might be dead but give them some dignity, they’re not pizzas.

You occasionally get these childhood fantasy sequences as well from when Ned and Chuck would play together as kids, imagining the world in claymation before they would inevitably destroy it as they pictured themselves as giant monsters.

It ties into the characters as well, everyone wearing very colourful clothes except for Ned who only ever seem to dress in blacks or greys.

Except for when he has to act under false pretenses, pretending to be someone else in order to get information from someone or to distract a suspect. To play amateur psychologist for a moment, with someone neurotic as Ned, it’s like a visual representation of his inner self no longer confined, no longer suppressed under the weight of the problems he’s bottling up and pushing deep down within himself. For a brief moment he’s able to break free from the shackles of his black and white world and into rich and living colour. It’s like a strange inverse of how things might usually work where a splash of colour would make someone or something stand out amongst an otherwise drab background. Somehow Ned’s lack of colour draws the eye.

On a more technical level, it is often quite obvious how superimposed the actors are against the fancy backgrounds and that can be a tad distracting. The editing between scenes can sometimes lend to the creative feel of the series, there are a few episodes where instead of the usual wipes you get something more appropriate to the story of the episode. For instance, in one episode centered around a magic theatre show, the transitions are the closing and opening of the stage curtains. It’s a little touch but it adds to the whimsy.

It all adds up to what might the most cutest, adorable thing I’ve ever seen, for the first few episodes at least. Maybe it’s a case of getting used to the whole thing but early on there’s a bit of a feeling out process (or non feeling as the case may be) between Ned and Chuck, the smiles they share or the ways they have to vicariously show their affection by hugging Cod. Him being the unwilling third party in this unconventional relationship doesn’t help take the edge of what might be a saccharine affair. There is a slight sense of ‘will they, wont they’ about Ned and Chuck,, subverting the usual TV payoff of a big kiss by doing so through plastic wrap.Makes you wonder how they explore their other urges under these circumstances. Or maybe that’s just the lockdown thirst kicking in again...

I think the distance they have plays with your head a little bit. There’ a coyness to it that puts you in mind of a bunch of awkward kids at a school dance too nervous to dance with each other. Or maybe Ned standing two feet away from Chuck, holding his own hand and pretending it’s Chuck’s is just an eerie glimpse into the post apocalyptic world we’ll have to enter at some point and all our conventions of greetings and physical contact have been shattered.

For the rotating cast of peripheral characters the show goes through as each investigation comes and goes, it’s nice that a few a started to re-appear now and again, such as Paul Rubens’ Oscar, Christine Adams’ Simone or David Arquette’s Randy Mann. That last one is a name, not a description (a Randy Man, a Macho Savage). It helps build this broader world and story elements, albeit I’m torn on the latter. Oscar, for instance, suspects something is not quite right about Chuck and she worries that he’s going to uncover her secret. It never really goes anywhere though and, whilst you could argue that like any good mystery there is the odd red herring along the way, it still feels like a little bit of a bait and switch considering that are other things in the story that don’t get paid off.

I’ll have to look into the timeline for how the series came to a close because it definitely seems like they knew considering there’s a very tacked on epilogue to the final episode that tries to tie up some of the loose ends, but there are still some left that aren’t. Namely the presence of Ned’s father that he had thought had been long gone for some twenty years but had been closer than he thought the entire time, with the show giving periodical teases of him sitting in the Pie Hole or a more thrilling cameo as he sweeps in to rescue Ned and Olive from their untimely deaths as they cling to a branch on the edge of a cliff.

The fact that he does so whilst wearing a mask and wearing gloves is more of a way to lead Ned towards certain conclusions on the identity of this mystery man but I can’t help but wonder what the implications are on the gloves in particular. The mechanics of Ned’s power seem to be that contact in order to bring the dead back to life has to be made skin to skin, so maybe Ned inherited this power from his father and his father brought Ned back to life at some point? Maybe him abandoning Ned at a young age was done to eliminate any risk of him accidentally touching him again and making death permanent? I’m not sure that would hold up considering he later walks out on his new family and twin boys so this would require three different people to all have seemingly no memory of their own near death experience. Maybe it’s all been repressed, that wouldn’t be surprising considering all the childhood angst present in this show.

You know what else I’m confused on? The distance between Coeur d’Couers, where Chuck’s aunts live, and the Pie Hole. Maybe I’m misremembering or misheard but I’m sure in one episode the narrator mentions that they’re 161 miles apart, yet characters seem to go between the two like they’re five minutes away. One of the aunts arranges a secret date at the Pie Hole later on in the same night but that’s a pretty massive distance to cover considering they make a point that they’re only traveling on buses. I know travel is all relative to American’s considering the massive size of their country but that’s a pretty ridiculous distance to cover for a slice of pie.