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stellocchia · 4 years

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Since people often seem to think that Tommy’s and Dream’s dynamic is something that was established in season 2 and sorta came out of nowhere before that, I thought I’d finally take a look at the evolution of it throughout season 1.

From here on out, of course, I’ll be talking exclusively about the characters. It is also to be kept in mind that season 1 was a LOT less scripted, so there may be streams and moments that I leave out as they don’t seem to be too impactful or they lack canonicity. So sadly the whole stream where they build Church Prime that has Dream comparing himself to God for 2 hours has to go...

This will undoubtedly be an EXTREMELY long one, so be prepared for it...

Let’s go step by step in chronological order, shall we?

THE DISCS WAR PREQUEL

By now a lot of people know that the Disc Saga wasn’t actually started by Tommy, but here’s a refresher anyway: Ponk started it off by pranking Sapnap’s base, in retaliation Sapnap burned down Ponk’s lemon tree. With this Ponk allied himself with Alyssa and the two started a war against Sapnap.

Later Tommy joins the server. Tommy obtains the first netherite cheestplate in the server and it’s promptly stolen by Sapnap. Later again Sapnap uses the netherite chestplate to blackmail Tommy into joining his fight against Ponk and Alyssa. Tommy just refuses ang gets his armour back, but he considers Sapnap’s offer because of: Alyssa setting him on fire and Tubbo (who was mostly neutral but leaning towards Ponk and Alyssa) had made him loose his stuff the day before.

Dream arrived then to stop the fighting, but Sapnap and Tommy decided to kill him instead (non-canonically of course). Sapnap killed him twice and Tommy once. In retaliation Dream stole Cat and Mellohi. Sapnap stole one of the disks back and then they retrived the other one and Tommy hid them near his base.

So what does this tell us? Tommy most definitely wasn’t the one who instigated the conflict, nor the one who escalated it. YET, he was the only one Dream focused on. And remember, while a proper coherent storyline didn’t exist back then we know that the wars were at least somewhat scripted (thanks to cc!Dream telling us so on the Eboys Podcast). They also kept their characters characterization pretty consistent throughtout, which means we had the first hints of their dynamic all the way back here.

ESCALATION OF THE DISC WAR

(From Tommy’s main channel it’s: “Dream is a Psychopath.”)

Everything could have been over then, but Dream was still pissed he lost, so he removed all the floring of Tommy’s base (escavating all the dirt from in front of it) in order to find the disks and take them back. At this point, after once again stealing the disks, Dream asked Tommy for his netherite chestplate (again, only one on the server at the time) in exchange for them. Also, an actual conversation they had:

Tommy: “Dream! Was this you that destroyed my entire base and re-named the sign to ‘BitchBoy enterprise?!”

Dream: “I didn’t touch the sign. I didn’t destroy your base either it’s just the f- the dirt” (note: as I said before, all the dirt was removed, but, hey, he didn’t touch the chickens and the carrot farm!)

Also:

Tommy:“Dream, you removed the ENTIRE floor of my base”

Dream: “It’s YOUR fault. It’s your fault...”

T: “How is it MY fault?!”

D: “‘Cause you hid the disks!”

T: “Yeah, because they’re MY disks!”

D: “You hid the disks and I’ve taken them back, okay?”

If this doesn’t sound like the beginning of the Obsession Arc, I don’t know what does!

But, in all seriousness, even back then for c!Dream the key of everything in the server was Tommy, though at the time he was just “the reason for conflict”. Still it’s pretty obvious that the disk conflict could have ended before it started if Dream didn’t decide to escalate things (though, as it’s obvious by the conversation, he blames his own actions on Tommy as we see him do in later seasons).

Anyone wondering about the gravity of Tommy killing Dream once non-canonically before this: In this video Dream kills both Tommy and Tubbo twice in the first 10 minutes. Yeah, he’s not any better. Btw, this is the video with the fight they then mimicked in the finale and they actually loose this one as well.

Tommy: “What is your obsession with this disks? Why don’t you just give them back?”

Dream: “No because I can get something in return for them, I don’t care about the disks”

Oh what simpler times when blackmail was just simple old blackmail to obtain material possessions...

Btw, this one ended with basically a double scam where Dream gave them fake disks and they logged off with both the fake disks and the netherite chestplate.

(Main channel: “mission: kill dream (FINALE)”)

Tubbo: “Please do not tell me you have sentimental attachment to the bullshit disks...”

Early theme of attachment back in season 1. Either way Tommy has been portrayed as an extremely sentimental character that develops attachments scarily fast from all the way back in season 1. C!Dream’s idea of him he expresses in the finale isn’t born from nothing.

Anyway, Tubbo and Tommy use the composter glitch to find Dream’s base to try and get back the disks, but they aren’t there, so they end up going for the original exchange, this time with no scamming included. Tommy get’s his disks back, while Dream gets Tommy’s netherite chestplate. Just to point out: at this point Dream was the one completely at fault. Tommy was dragged into a war he wasn’t involved in and yet was the sole one to be punished for it and Dream couldn’t just accept a defeat so heavily griefed Tommy’s base and stole back HIS posssession. Dream is the main instigator here, yet he blames it ENTIRELY on Tommy from the start. Literally their dynamic started off pretty f*cked.

Still, since Tommy didn’t want to keep risking loosing stuff to Dream for the disks he decided to make an ender chest for himself. He gets some blaze powder and ender pearls from Punz in exchange from an apple (that was too sweet not to include) and then, when it comes to getting the obsidian is when Dream realizes what he’s been doing. You’d think he’d be fine with it considering they already had a “fair” exchange (aka Dream’s blackmailing had been succesful), but nope. He hunts down both Tommy and Tubbo, but fails in killing them and they manage to put the disks away safely.

L’MANBURG BEGINNING

As we know Wilbur founded L’Manburg and Dream did not like that, so he declared war on them. Here’s the speach:

“Tommy! (pause) And Wilbur and the rest of L’ManChildburg, we are at war. There is no mercy. We’ve burnt down Tubbo’s house. We’ve planted tnt cannons around your land. We have cobblestone walled the outside and we shot ONE warning shot inside your walls ans an explosion and we have NO MERCY! NO MERCY FOR YOU! Do you understand? We will come! We’ll burn down your houses, we will kill anything inside your walls and we’ll take back the land that is rightfully ours if you do not surrender. I want to see WHITE FLAGS! WHITE FLAGS OUTSIDE YOUR BASE BY TOMORROW, AT DAWN, OR YOU’RE DEAD!”

So, a couple of things to unpack here:

1) Dream first and foremost singles out Tommy who, if you all remember, was NOT the leader of L’Manburg. He was barely Wilbur’s right hand man and had only been confirmed as such recently at that point. He is not the leader and YET, in how the speach is enunciated it’s obvious that it’s directed at him specifically.

2) For anyone wondering if Dream could be considered a villain back in season one: so far the people from L’Manburg had done nothing but frolic in the flowers. They were a group of pacifists that refused to use any armour and Dream’s reaction to them is to kill them all and burn anything they built. And he’s doing all this because he thinks he’s entitled to all of the land in the smp and even something as small as og L’Manburg had no right to exist free of his rule.

(Always from the main channel: “Doomsday.”)

Two important things for their relationship happen here: Dream deciding, out of everyone, to kill Tommy specifically in the final control room and the duel (or more so the result of the duel).

It is something back then no-one wondered about, but why would Dream, the leader of the Greater Dream SMP, go after the second in command instead of the leader? Possibly for the same reason he singled out Tommy in the declaration of war? Possible foreshadowing of their future dynamic?

Also, may I mention that Dream was the one to add the condition that, on top of not getting independence for L’Manburg, Tommy had to give up one of the disks (mellohi) if he lost? And Dream being the one to mention it is the reason why Tommy knew they were valuable to him in the first place. It’s the reason why Tommy proposed the deal of his disks for L’Manburg independence (which worked, which tells us a whole lot about when Dream’s obsession withe the disks started. Man was willing to take an L to have THAT sort of control over Tommy already in season one)

POGTOPIA

Jump to when Tommy and Wilbur get exiled. A lot happens here, but, for the function of this analysis, I’ll only be talking about what pertains to Dream’s and Tommy’s relationship.

So, at the beginning of exile Dream offers his support for Pogtopia leaving a chest specifically for Tommy (once again, not Wilbur, the leader, but Tommy. He also gives Tommy a lot more stuff then Techno who was arguably a much more valuable asset). In the chest there was: a full set of netherite armour, 3 stacks of ender pearls, an enchanment table, a netherite sword, Dream’s crossbow (”Definitely not penis”), a stack of golde apples, 1 enchanted golden apple, 1 stack of diamonds, 17 obsidian, 3 potions of strenght, a stack of steak and a book written by Dream called “Tyrant” which, again, is addressed soley to Tommy. (In the book he basically says that he doesn’t like Schlatt and that he’s only going to help from the shadows because he can’t directly involve himself).

Now, for the standards of the time, that was A LOT of stuff. Dream clearly wasn’t half-assing his support to Tommy there (I’d say to “Pogtopia” but, again, it was all specifically for Tommy). He keeps up his help when he intervenes in favour of Tommy in the Battle of the Lake (from the vods channel: “TommyInnit, Dream & Technoblade TEAM UP (dream smp war)”). Before that however he also helps Tommy to lava cast (or attempt to) the Eiffel Tower (built for Karl’s and Sapnap’s honeymoon). For this battle Dream also gives Mars (Sapnap’s and George’s fish) to Tommy (together with quite a few more ender pearls). Their relationship up until this point seems to have improved quite a bit with Tommy immediately trusting Dream again (he seems to be always inclined to trust Dream much in the same way he’s always inclined to trust Wilbur) and Dream seemingly being supportive (although that was actually because he needed both Manburg and Pogtopia to disappear as we discovered later on).

Fast forward again we have the moment when their relationship sours again: Dream provides Wilbur with the tnt. With this momement we have the confirmation that Dream truly was only siding with them for his own self-interest (as he always considered L’Manburg as his own propriety, independence or not, and he wasn’t happy with Schlatt wanting to expand and being morw ambitious then Wilbur ever was) and Tommy also looses part of his trust in him, though not completely.

You see, their relationship is a bit more complex then that. In season 1 even when Tommy and Dream were enemies there was never really much bad blood between them. And when I say this I mean that Dream in particular didn’t let there be much bad blood between them, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

After Quackity joins Pogtopia they try to make a plan to get L’Manburg back that would not include blowing it up. After that fails (from the vods channel: “Dream BETRAYS TommyInnit during the Dream SMP Meeting...”) and Fundy joins Pogtopia as well Dream announces that Schlatt gave him something “more valuable then frienship” and he’s now siding with him and leaves the Pogtopians announcing that there is a traitor among them.

Wilbur: “Dream just wants to be on the side of the rebellion and now that we are the dominant force technically... isn’t that right Dream? Would you say you just want to be on the other side? You just want to be on the other team?”

Dream: “No I- I don’t think so...”

Tommy: “Dream’s the good guy Wilbur”

D: “I think I’d say that my interest is in myself”

So, despite everything, Up to this point Tommy still trusted Dream. Fully trusted him. But now, soon after this conversation, Dream explicitely tells them that he never considered them “friends” they were “convenient allies” for him (a mindset that he carries on later on and brings to an extreme).

Now you’d think that was the breaking point right? I mean the whole vod was also titled “Dream betrays Tommy” and Dream just left them telling Tommy specifically that no, they were not friends (though Tommy didn’t agree on that point, much like with Techno later on). But that’s not were Dream leaves it.

First he allows Tommy back in his old base to get some stuff once they’re alone (despite having just said in front of Wilbur, Quackity and Fundy that he’d stab him if he tried going back)

Tommy: “I just don’t understand, why would you team with Schlatt?”

Dream: “Tommy... I’m a business man, you know what that’s like”

T: “No I don’t”

D: “Well you do, of course you do”

God since exile that damn soft condescending tone he does hits me so different... anyway. As you see as soon as he’s alone with Tommy he starts being more friendly, less formal. He also takes on a more menacing persona (I really don’t know how he manages to do both at the same time... no wait, exile. He acts more like how he did in exile). Anyway the switch is actually pretty interesting to see.

Tommy: “Why would you not team with us?”

Dream: “Tommy... I’ve never been on your team. I have never been on your team, ever!”

T: “Well I’ve been in your team...”

D: “Wel I- I’m not saying you have. I’ve never been on your team. I’ve never been on anyone’s team”

And with this we are done with their important interactions for this stream, but wait! They have a war in a few days, right? Well, Dream makes sure to spend that time with Tommy. Like, a lot of it.

All of “Dream bullies TommyInnit for having low viewers.” Is Dream following Tommy ominously around while mildly inconveniencing and somewhat helping when they’re supposed to be enemies (it’s literally one of my favourite vods, it’s great! It was also the one vod that sparked the “Dream is obsessed with Tommy” theory in me. Yes I’ve had it from all the way back then, but I also was right, so...).

Tommy: “Okay, so you know how we’re going to war in 7 days time?”

Dream: “Yes”

T: “like, ME and YOU are going to war...”

D: “Yes”

T: “Yes, yeah so I need to- I- it feels very strange to be- I need to prepare for THAT”

D: “Well, what do you need?”

Dream then proceeds to half-help him half-stop him from getting gold in the nether. The whole vod is like this. It definitely has a very weird atmosphere as it’s clear that both of them are fully aware of their respective roles in their upcoming war, but Tommy doesn’t know what to do and Dream is clearly willingly ignoring it all. It’s pretty jarring to watch tbh (together with being a hilarious vod to watch) and it helps starting to paint the picture of Dream having the level of dependence on Tommy that we know he has now.

Then there is “TommyInnit, Dream & Sapnap's PET WAR FINALE” which is LITERALLY THE DAY BEFORE THE WAR. Here Dream, once again, decides to spend the whole time with Tommy. He helps him against Sapnap (who is Dream’s ally) and even decides to lead Tommy to Sapnap’s and Punz’s secret base where they keep their animals and starts encoraging him to kill them. Tommy, of course, refuses and the whole pet war finishes with Sapnap and Tommy releasing Mars and promising to be friends once the war was over.

Like, honestly, if anyone in Pogtopia had known about this interactions maybe they could have suspected Tommy of being the traitor for legitimate reasons instead of misinterpreting him entirely as a person and thinking he just wanted to be president... and you’d think that, maybe, THAT was Dream’s goal, but... not really? He always made sure to spend time with Tommy when there was no-one from Pogtopia around. In all 3 of this vods he is drastically different when they’re alone and, I mean, he stopped hidining how he is with Tommy only during Doomsday (when he gave his speach on the obsidian grid to Tommy, not caring that Tubbo and Quackity were both there).

To finish it off, we know that season 1 ends with Dream fighting alongside Technoblade and nothing else of significant happens for their relationship. Still, I hope this was comprehensive enough to show that, most definitely, his obsession with Tommy and the having power over Tommy is not a new concept for Dream. It’s something that got worse with time, but it’s most definitely not something new. The main thing that changed throughout season 1 and 2 was Tommy’s perception of Dream (which went from easy trust and friendship to hatred and fear), not vice versa.

Also may I add that Dream's constantly acting friendly when they most definitely aren't is probably one of the reasons why Tommy was so predisposed to accepting Dream as his friend in exile? Just a thought...

@ladycatland

#dream smp #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #character analysis #relationship analysis #dream smp season 1 #/rp #my post #long post #one of the longest for sure...#does it show that I miss having regular lore updates?#I'm starting to look into all the old lore...#send help...

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billnoncipher · 3 years

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Losing Time

This story is not in my usual continuity, but was written for Wendip Week 2021, topic "Time Travel."

for Wendip Week 2021

---

Mabel faced a hard decision when she called in that favor.

She was nearly thirty, she was a successful clothing designer, she had a steady romantic partner, life was good. But then on a visit to Gravity Falls, she visited the grave of good old Waddles, whose heart had given out the previous winter, while she was off in New York.

And she hadn't been able to say goodbye.

And despite the fact that she was all grown up and everything, it ripped at her heart—that she hadn't said farewell to her most favorite pet of all time. It wasn't that he hadn't been well cared for—Soos saw to that, giving the pig all the comforts and plenty of food. It wasn't that he was cut off in his youth—seventeen is a good long life for a pig. It's just that—

Well, now she knew how Dipper felt.

Speaking of whom.

Dipper and Wendy were coming up on their tenth wedding anniversary, they had adorable twins, age six, names Alexander and Amanda, and they lived in the Mystery Shack. Grunkles Stan and Ford still technically owned the place, and Soos ran it, but over the years he and Melody had expanded it until their own growing family caused Soos to have a separate house built just across the road, and he and his family of six—he, Melody, Benny, Betty, Alma, and little Stanley—had made the short move. Dipper had inherited Grunkle Ford's role as investigator of the weird, Wendy was a nationally-known consultant on forestry issues, and they took over the living space that Soos had left vacant.

Ford, now semi-retired, still came over to work with Dipper down in the secret labs when some project was afoot. Grunkle Stan came over to help when the Shack was swamped with tourists in vacation season, but he spent a lot of his time visiting casinos all over the world, where his odd luck always brought him a steady income.

The attic bedroom had become disused.

"Can I stay?" Mabel asked in a small voice just at sunup that day. "Just for a couple weeks?"

"Sure, Mabes!" Wendy said. "Any time, you know that."

Dipper, now sporting a goatee and wearing glasses to correct mild myopia, said, "Sis, what's wrong?"

With a sad smile, Mabel said, "You can tell, huh? Just getting all sentimental. Missing Waddles."

"Oh," Dipper said. "That. We're sorry you couldn't make it back in January."

"It was so unexpected," Wendy said. "He was OK, you know, kinda slow and sleepy all the time, and then one morning we found him in his stall. He'd passed in his sleep."

"He was comfortable to the end," Dipper said. "The heat was on. He didn't freeze or anything. He looked peaceful."

"We buried him down the hill," Wendy told her. "Come on, we'll walk you down."

The place was pretty, a small clearing off to the right of the Mystery Trail. Grass had greened the mound, dewy now with the dawn, and—Mabel couldn't help sobbing—Dipper and Wendy had put up a marker, one of those you could buy for a cherished dog or cat. It read,

---

WADDLES

2012-2029

Always Loved

---

"Could you just leave me here for a few minutes?" asked Mabel.

Dipper hugged her. "Sure, Sis," he said. "Take y our time."

Wendy hugged her, too. "You gave him a good life," she said.

When the two had left, Mabel took a deep breath and took something that looked like a thick button from her jeans pocket. She held it between finger and thumb, close to her lips, and said, "OK, Blendin Blandin, you owe me one."

And without fuss, explosions, or special-effects noise, he was there, beside her, in his old uniform. "M-Ma-Mabel," he said, smiling. "Hi. It's be-been a wh-while."

"Yeah," she said. "You're looking—exactly the same. How's Time Baby?"

"Te-te-teething," Blendin said with a grimace. "The ne-next thou-thousand years are go-gonna be hard. I gu-guess you want your fa-favor now?"

"I do," she said. "Waddles passed away last January. I don't want to bring him back to life or anything. I've learned better than that. But I didn't get to see him before he went, and I really want to visit him one last time. So—could I borrow a time tape?"

"I pro-promised," he said. "I always carry a sp-spare these da-days. Here."

"And I also need your advice," Mabel said, accepting the heavy time-travel device. "I want to visit Waddles on the happiest day of his whole life."

"You-you'll have to a-avoid meeting yourself," Blendin warned. "That would be cat-cata-catas—bad."

"Agreed," she said.

"Let me find out how to se-set the co-coordinates, then," he said. "Just a se-second."

He blinked out of existence for just three seconds, then reappeared, slapping at his hair, which was smoldering. "Th-that was two we-weeks of hard wo-work!" he said. "Lucky this-this is m-my va-vacation month. OK, I've reviewed Wa-Waddles' s li-life and this will ta-take you to the ex-exact day when he was happiest. You can ha-have the wh-whole day, or eight hours any-anyway, bu-but remember to a-avoid me-meeting yourself."

"Will do."

Blendin set the time tape, warned, "It will br-bring you ba-back to the present automatically. Ha-have a g-good time-tr-trip."

The strange noiseless explosion, a moment of spinning disorientation, and poof! there she was, at the edge of the woods behind the Shack. The sun was just rising.

"Out you go," she heard a girl's voice say from the back door.

She saw a rectangle of yellow light. Oh, my God, that's me, in my old sleep shirt! I'm twelve! I'm so young!

Her younger self held the door for Waddles—He's so cute and tiny!—and the pig stepped out, sniffed the air, and waddled over close to the woods to take care of his morning business.

Let's see. I always let him out, then had breakfast, then called him back in, so I have about half an hour before I have to duck out of sight.

"Waddles," she called softly.

He heard and galumphed over to her. He knew her. Her different size, her different voice, didn't matter. She scooped him up. "Oh, I love you!" she said as he curled into a ball and nuzzled her cheek. "Let's go for a walk."

She set him down, and they went down the Mystery Trail, past the Bottomless Pit—not yet fenced off—and as far as the bonfire clearing, where she sat on a log and played with him, laughing through tears. "I'm gonna have to say goodbye, later," she whispered. "But remember, no matter what, I'll always love you!"

Too soon she heard her own younger voice calling, probably for the second time and more loudly, "Waddles!"

"Go on," she told the pig, patting his bottom. He trotted back to the other Mabel, his Mabel.

What day is this? Mabel wondered. What day made him happiest?

She sat too long. Someone spoke, startling her. "Whoops, sorry, didn't know anybody was here!"

Wendy.

Mabel stood up. "I was just, uh—I used to come here when I was a girl—" she began.

"Mabel?" Wendy asked, blinking and staring. "Mabel? Is that you?"

"Haven't changed all that much, have I?" she asked. "Oh, my God, you're so young! Can—can I hug you?"

She was a little bit taller than the fifteen-year-old Wendy, who would add a few inches to her height in the next two years. Mabel couldn't help crying again. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to let anyone see me. Time travel. I came back to—to visit Waddles."

"Oh, man," Wendy said. "Dipper's told me about this kind of stuff! Come on back to the Shack and surprise him!"

"No, I can't," Mabel said. "Don't even tell him you met me. That would cause problems with time."

"Oh."

Something in Wendy's voice hit her then. "Uh—what's wrong, Wendy?"

"Just—just the end of summer," Wendy faltered. "I—I hate that you and Dip are goin' home today."

Oh, my God! Of course! Waddles thought I was gonna leave him, and I nearly had to, but Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford made the bus driver take him aboard—of course he was happiest on that day!

"Oh, yeah," Mabel said. "Our birthday was yesterday. We turned thirteen."

"Technical teens," Wendy said with a ghost of a grin. A tear ran down her cheek.

"But you don't have to cry," Mabel said.

"I—I guess I can tell you a secret," Wendy said. She sat on the log, and Mabel sat beside her. "See, Dipper admitted to me a while back that he has a crush on me. I already knew, but I had to let him down. You know, me fifteen, him twelve. But now he's going away, and I'll never see him again, and—I just can't tell him I'm kinda-sorta in love with him, too. It's hard, Mabel."

Mabel bit her lip. "Listen," she said. "I may get in big trouble because of this, but—OK, I'm gonna say it. You gotta give Dipper a note. Have all his friends here sign it. You sign it, too. Here's the most important part—write on it 'See you next summer.' And wait for him. He'll come back. And he'll grow up, Wendy. And if you wait for him—it's gonna happen. I promise. Just stay in touch, and—most important—when the time comes, the age difference won't mean a thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Trust me, I know. OK, I've got a few hours today. I'm gonna stay close to the Shack and get in as much time with Waddles as I can. Then I'm going back to the future, and thirteen-year-old Mabel and Dipper are going back to Piedmont. But he doesn't just have a crush, Wendy. He really and truly loves you. So write the note, give it to him before he gets on the bus, and things will all work out. Promise me?"

"Yeah. I promise."

"Oh—and tell Grunkle Stan that when the time comes for us to leave, to make sure Waddles gets on the bus, too! I—Oh, I love you like a sister, Wendy! You won't believe how happy you're gonna be with Dip."

"That—that means a lot to me, Mabes," Wendy whispered.

"OK, you'd better get back. Don't say anything to anyone about this. Be sure to do the note thing. Oh, and Wendy—do me one more favor?"

"Sure, what?"

"Tell Pacifica that Mabel's waiting—in the future. Don't explain."

"All right," Wendy said with a lopsided smile. "I'll do it." She mimed zipping her lip.

The day passed. Out of her eight hours, Mabel spent about three in Waddles's company as her brother and her younger self got ready to leave Gravity Falls. She spent more time standing out of sight, watching things unfold—finally the kids coming out, glum, with their suitcases, the bus pulling up, Dipper and Mabel and—finally—Waddles climbing aboard. And all their friends running as far as they could to see the twins and the pig off.

She stood alone near the Shack. The flash came. Benjamin stood there. "How d-did it go?"

"It went good," Mabel said, handing over the time tape. "I said goodbye." She sniffled and a tear ran down her cheek. "I'll still miss him but I—I can handle it now. Uh, how much time has gone by while I—?"

"A m-minute," Blendin said. "Well, I-I g-guess we're e-even."

"Thanks, Blendin. Goodbye."

"N-no, I d-don't think it's g-goodbye," he said, smiling. "I'll s-see you again. In time."

He flashed out of existence.

"Aunt Mabel!" It was red-headed Amanda, running down the hill to meet her. "Hi!"

Mabel swept her up in her arms. "Hi, Sweetie! Where's your bro-bro?"

Squirming, Amanda laughed. "He can't find his shoes!"

Carrying the six-year old up the hill to the Shack, Mabel laughed. "When your dad was six, he had the same problem! All the time! Every morning!" She paused and looked back at the green grave. "Hey, let me tell you a story about the most special pig in the whole world," she said, and they went back to join the family.

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The End

#Wendip #Wendip Week #fereality #gravity falls

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madd-information · 3 years

Note

Have you watched Kati Morton's new video about Maladaptive Daydreaming? What do you think about it?

[intro]

For years, I believed maladaptive daydreaming to be a form of dissociation, but it could also be added to the DSM as its own diagnosis, since it does have its own set of unique symptoms. Either way, at this time maladaptive daydreaming is not listed in the DSM as a diagnosable mental illness.

I was concerned because her last couple videos on the topic were very confusing to watch and seemed to conflate MD with the inner-worlds of DID. It looks like she has done some more research on it and is going to make a more informed video. This is great and I deeply appreciate that she’s taking the time to do a proper dive into this.

The closest diagnosis would be DPDR, or depersonalization derealization disorder. And this is the diagnosis given to those of us who struggle with dissociation. [explanation of DPDR]

Gonna need you to source that Katie, I’ve never heard an MD researcher say something like this. When they talk about MD they call it a behavioral addiction with OCD features which is related to dissociative absorption (different from derealization and depersonalization, these two dissociative experiences are not particularly significant in MD, though they can happen.)

These experiences are extremely common. It's estimated that half of all adults have had at least one episode of DPDR. 50% of people. That is a huge amount of people.

Cool but not sure it’s at all relevant to the video topic.

Also, it's important to mention that in 2016, four researchers put together the Maladaptive Daydreaming Scale, or MDS. This is a 14-item self-reported scale, meaning that you as the patient answers 14 questions based on your own maladaptive daydreaming experience.

It’s a 16 item scale now, it was changed very early on and has been 16 for years. This is a very small and forgivable knitpick, just fyi.

The MDS focuses on the content of our daydreams, how intense the urge to continue daydreaming is, and how much it impairs our ability to function in our lives, and the benefits and costs of our daydreaming. I am not personally familiar with this scale, nor have I used it in my practice, but I've linked the research article in the description if you wanna learn more about it.

A good description, and here’s that link again for anyone who wants to read about the finer details of this scale.

When it comes to maladaptive daydreaming, it isn't just feeling out of body or environment. We can create very intense and detailed daydreams with plots, characters, and very lifelike issues and storylines. Some people will get the plots for their daydreams from their real lives, while others can create a utopian place unlike their current experience.

Yep, decent overview of content, though content doesn’t matter that much. Also, use of “we”. Is Katie Morton an MDer or was this a creative choice? I don’t know, just a passing thought.

We can find ourselves staying in these daydreams for various amounts of time. And some of my patients have reported staying in them for hours. And many of you have let me know that you struggle to get out of them at all, spending days in this other life that we've created.

Yep, good overview, but more importantly she’s listening to her patients and the feedback of MDers in her audience.

...there are many causes for this, and the first I wanna address is trauma triggers. If we've experienced a trauma in our life, things that remind us of that time or situation can pull us into a flashback, cause us to dissociate, or in many cases push us into our maladaptive daydreams.

When our brain and the rest of our nervous system feels overwhelmed and unable to deal with what's going on in the moment, it can pull us out of our current situation through dissociation. I always talk about that, like our brain pulling the ripcord. And it can also utilize maladaptive daydreaming. It's a way to cope or get through an overwhelming situation when we don't have other skills to help calm our nervous system down. So we just rely on what we know, and that can be daydreaming or dissociating. It's almost like this coping skill protects us from having to feel traumatized again and so it takes us away, you know, drops us into a much safer and happier place.

Trauma is always talked about first when people do overviews of MD. She’s not wrong but just to add more information; about a quarter of MDers report trauma, the other 75(ish)% don’t. It’s a significant number but trauma is not the only pathway to MD. Sometimes people walk away from these videos feeling like “well, I don’t have any trauma, maybe I don’t really have MD”. That’s not a comment on what Katie has presented, she does go into other things below, just adding on.

Another cause or trigger can be high levels of stress or anxiety. We can slowly feel ourselves become more and more overwhelmed until our brain pulls us out of our reality and into a new one, aka our maladaptive daydreams. In short, we can want to stay in these daydreams to feel better and safer, but it can get in the way of us functioning in our life.

Yep

[audience anecdotes]

...Which is why even the term maladaptive daydreaming is used. Maladaptive means it's not providing adequate or appropriate adjustment to the environment or situation. So the daydreaming is only holding off the bad things. It's not actually making anything better or helping us process any of the upset. It's really just a temporary check-out, which can be helpful sometimes, but if it's happening all the time or making it hard for us to focus at work, school, or with our friends and family, we should find other, better ways to cope.

Exactly.

Which moves us into how we can better cope so that we don't get sucked into our daydreams for hours, days, or even weeks. And first up is mindfulness. Now, I know that term is overused now and super annoying but in order for us to know when we even need to use other coping skills, we have to know when the daydreaming urges are happening. So often we aren't aware of what we were feeling or thinking until it's too late and we're already pulled into our daydream. And at that point it's more difficult or even impossible for us to pull ourselves out. Therefore, we have to start being more aware of what we're going through.

[continues explanation]

Perfection.

And so next is figuring out ways to calm our system down. This can take the form of a distraction technique like going for a walk or organizing a part of our home, coloring, watching a show, playing a video game, you name it. These calming things could also be more process-based, things like journaling or talking to your therapist or a friend about it, or even using an impulse log. [Continues with calming things]

Good examples, MD researchers specifically recommend keeping a log.

We're also going to have to find some coping skills that we can use when we're starting to feel overwhelmed and wanting to go back into the daydream. Maybe we hold an ice cube in our hands, clap our hands, count the number of things in the room that are blue, brown, black… whatever works for you, do it.

Good stuff.

And it's okay for something not to work. We just have to try it to know and then move on to something else.

Important point to make, happy to see this.

Once we have a few things that work, write them down in your phone or on a post-it note so that you can see it and be reminded when you need it. We will also need to come up with some ways to pull ourselves out of the daydream. And I know this is gonna be harder and we may even wanna call upon helpful and supportive people in our lives to assist us.

Good advise.

We could, because it's our daydream, right, we could put a big door in our daydream and we can choose to go through it and pull ourselves out, or have people in the daydream that remind us of our real life and tell us to go back.

A good suggestion. Q, on the Parallel Lives Podcast (I can’t remember which episode off the top of my head), did something like this by turning to his characters and saying “ok, take 5 guys, we’ll pick it up at xtime”, and many people have found that to be a clever and helpful method.

Now, I know this is really, really hard… which rolls into my final tip, which is to work with a therapist to heal from the trauma or to learn how to better cope with the anxiety or stress we're feeling. Working to heal or process through the reason our maladaptive daydreaming exists in the first place will ensure that we don't need it anymore.

Absolutely seek professional support if you can.

... if we heal the issue we're struggling to cope with, the urge to use those unhelpful coping skills will go away altogether.

[outro]

I think this last point will frighten a lot of MDers. It’s probably the brevity of the video that didn’t allow her to really expand on this, and I certainly don’t want to put words into her mouth that she may not have intended. Don’t be afraid of losing your MD. “Curing” Maladaptive Daydreaming does not mean “I’ll never see my world again.” You’ll always have the capacity to daydream like this, you were born this way, but it *doesn’t* have to be maladaptive. Like overeating, you will never not eat, you will fix your relationship with food.

Good video overall, brief but accurate and includes the standard helpful advise.

#maladaptive daydreaming #actuallymadd

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

Text

A Negligible Price

I guess it’s becoming a tradition for me to add another chapter to A Minor Inconvenience every year for @stanuary . I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just that the prompt “Sacrifice” got me thinking about this story and where I thought it could go, and then I got writing and I started coming up with ideas for how I could actually put a finish to this story. So yeah, hopefully it won’t be another year before I post chapter 4, but not promises!

Also, first time I’ve had to do this, but:

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE/MARTYR COMPLEX AND SUIDICE ADJACENT THEMES.

* * *

Bill rushes to gather himself together again. Now that Sixer and his idiot brother have caught on, he knows they’ll probably be making a move against him soon. The time for lying in wait and keeping a low profile has passed. He’s been getting faster, better at finding the tiny flecks of gold scattered into the dark abyss below.

Unfortunately that also means that he’s noticed that some missing pieces just never turn up. As an interdimensional being who’s existed in countless dimensions across innumerable timelines, Bill likes to think he knows himself pretty well now. What he’s made of, how much power he’s accumulated, what he’s capable of. And if he had to estimate now, which he does, he’d say he’s been reduced to maybe a third of his power. Roughly two thirds of him are missing.

What happened to those missing pieces? Were they simply deleted by that memory eraser? Did he leave some of himself behind in that physical form he left to enter Stan’s mind in the Fearamid? Bill can only guess, but really, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this moron’s brain and starting again on his path to a universe free of rules.

* * *

Stan recovered from his latest memory lapse quickly, despite the fact that it was the worst one he’d experienced since he sacrificed himself to the memory gun last summer. The experience had clearly put Ford on edge, and as much as he tried to bottle up his emotions and remain calm, Stan could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves.

They were both relieved when they reached Spitsbergen. There was a hospital in Longyearbyen, where Ford insisted they stop to give Stan a check-up. Stan felt fine, but if it helped ease Ford’s nerves, then he could sit through a check-up.

Explaining Stan’s condition to the doctor was a struggle, considering English was not his strongest language. They definitely got across that Stan was experiencing memory problems, but the doctor seemed to be under the impression it had been caused by an injury to the head in an accident, rather than a purposeful exposure to a memory-erasing device.

Eventually, Ford had lost his patience and just asked if they could use the CT or MRI machine themselves. The doctor spoke enough English to tell them that the nearest CT or MRI machine was in either Iceland or Russia.

The elder Pines twins left the hospital in low spirits. Ford kicked at little pebbles as they walked down the street.

“There’s a research facility in Ny-Ålesund. Perhaps we could sail up there and commandeer some equipment to rig up our own CT scan…”

“I think it’d be easier to just hop on a plane back to the States at this point.” Stan suggested.

“If we’re going to hop on a plane somewhere, it’ll be to Reykjavik, where we won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for any treatments.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to wait half a year.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna take ‘revived demon in my head’ as an urgent need.”

“Probably not…” Ford admitted.

“And you’re sure you didn’t figure anything else out the last time you were pokin’ around in my head?”

Ford grit his teeth. The truth was, he was afraid what would happen if he tried to revisit that memory. The cold flames of the memory eraser had felt so real, even just revisiting it in Stan’s mind, and they seemed to be the trigger of his latest memory lapse. Would they have a similar effect within Ford’s own memory?

“Nothing I’ve been able to make sense of.”

Stan grit his teeth. “So what now? Just leave that jerk in my head?”

Ford sighed. “I want to do some more research into what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps a trip to the library will help me find some insight. But truthfully… I may have been too hasty with punching out Bill, when I encountered him. He’s a liar who can’t be trusted, but he’s also a braggart. If I’d just let him run his mouth a little longer, we may have learned something about what he’s up to.”

* * *

Longyearbyen’s library wasn’t any bigger than the public library in Gravity Falls, and had significantly fewer books relating to Bill and mind magic, but it did at least have access to several library databases that Ford couldn’t typically log into from the Stan’O’War II. (According to Fiddleford, these databases could be hacked into quite easily, but Ford didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to learn how) It would have to do for now. Ford took a seat at a computer, and with a little help from a librarian, he was soon scrolling through peer-reviewed articles from different archeologists and anthropologists and folklore experts and descendants of the Aztecs and Mayans debating who Xolotl was, what his role was in the Aztec religion, how much his lore changed from Pre- and Post- Colombian invasion, and so forth.

What he’d learned so far was interesting, to say the least. The things that most people agreed upon was that Xolotl was a god of death, fire, and lightning. What caught Ford’s attention was the fact that they were also the god of twins and deformities. He glanced down at his twelve fingers, which rested awkwardly on the small keyboard meant for people with just ten. It seemed odd that Bill would call on this particular death god, when they seemed far more likely to be a patron to Stan and Ford.

While Ford puzzled over this new information, Stan browsed the library, looking for something to entertain himself while he waited. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t a whole lot of English books in this Norwegian library. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon an extensive comics section. Even though he still couldn’t read most of them, the pictures were at least enough that he got the gist of what was going on.

European comics were very different from American comics. They featured a lot less costumed superheroes punching bad guys and a lot more weird, quirky characters setting out on adventures and exploring the world. They also seemed to lean more heavily on comedy rather than drama. Stan decided he liked them.

He’d been looking at a story about some rich duck when he noticed he felt odd. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say that his brain felt itchy. The more he concentrated on it, the more it faded away, but when he went back to looking at the comic and got absorbed back into the story, it came back.

After almost an hour of the feeling coming and going, Stan decided he was not imagining the sensation. He stuffed a tissue into the comic as a bookmark and got up to see what Ford would have to say about it. Almost as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, a wave of anger washed over him. Just like the itchy brain feeling, it went away almost as soon as he stopped and thought about it, but it had been so strong, that he couldn’t deny it had happened.

“Hey.” Stan tapped his brother on the shoulder as the old researcher skimmed an article about why the Aztecs associated lightning with twins.

“Hmm?” Ford acknowledged him without looking away from the screen.

“Am I forgettin’ to be mad at you about somethin’?”

That got Ford to turn and look at him. “Are you having a memory lapse!?”

“I don’t think so, but just a second ago I looked over at you and I felt really mad all of a sudden. Can’t really think of a reason why, though. I’m just wondering if maybe the other day, when I had the big blank-out, maybe we missed somethin’?”

The old researcher’s face contorted with guilt. “You have ample reason to be mad at me. I didn’t stand up for you when dad kicked you out. I never reached out to you for over ten years. I expected you to drop everything and help me with my problems without any explanation. I refused to thank you for saving my life--”

“Yeah, no, none of that stuff.” Stan shook his head. “I remember all that stuff, and I’ve already forgiven you and junk. Mmmm… did you try to enchant the mop again and not let me remember it?” But even as he joked that the underlying reason must be the latest chapter in a minor argument, he knew that couldn’t be right. The sudden bloom of anger had been much more deep-seated and horrible than that. It had felt like… it had felt like Ford had ruined everything.

To be fair, there had been a long period of Stan’s life when he had felt like Ford had ruined everything. But Stan was over that now, and this brief brush with anger had felt even more heated than that.

Ford gave him an appraising look. “Were there any other memories or emotions associated with this feeling?”

“Oh yeah, my brain was feelin’ itchy right before that.”

“Have… you been using shampoo?” Ford asked, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Not my scalp, genius, like the actual thinking part of my brain!”

“... I can’t even begin to guess what that means.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how else to describe it, ok? It’s like somethin’ was squirmin’ around in my mind!”

The brothers wore twin expressions of realization as the words left Stan’s mouth.

“We need to get back to the boat.” Ford stood from the computer desk abruptly.

“Yep.” Stan set the comic he’d been reading down on the desk, not even bothering to remove his improvised bookmark.

* * *

Bill throws his hands up and roars in frustration. He can’t seem to take control, even when the moron’s mind is zoning out, losing himself in some stupid comic book. He’s already in the mind! He’s been here for months! He knows his way around here. So why isn’t it working? Is it because he never made a deal with this guy? That shouldn’t matter! The last thing they did before the whole memory gun thing was shake hands!

There's no time to waste complaining, though. Sixer will be poking around here any minute. Bill needs a plan. Before, he'd spent millions of years in the Nightmare Realm planning. Now he's making everything up as he goes.

It's clear that Bill can't just take control of Stan like he'd been counting on. But do the other two know that? He might still be able to use that to his advantage.

If Bill is going to trick these losers and get out of here, he needs to play his opponents right. Luckily, he's got years of experience fighting against Sixer. It's the Big Mackerel that he worries about.

Before, Bill hadn't paid much attention to Stan. He thought he understood what made the simple con man tick. But then, in the end, he found he didn't understand at all. Even after months of being trapped in his mindscape, Stan is very much still a mystery to Bill.

But there is one thing about Stan that Bill does understand.

He’s willing to sacrifice himself for his family.

* * *

Once they were back aboard the Stan’O’War II, Stan allowed himself to relax, just a little. At least here his surroundings were familiar, and the only person he had to worry about was his own brother.

Under normal circumstances, “the only person he had to worry about” meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for law enforcement or old criminals who might recognize Stan from his drifter days.

Today “the only person he had to worry about” meant the only person he could possibly endanger if Bill was able to take control of him. Ford was the last person Stan wanted to put in danger, but he also had to admit, his brother knew more about the demon than any other living being on the planet.

Stan may have been able to relax a tiny fraction once they were back aboard their boat, but not Ford. Ford was in full-blown panic mode.

He frantically searched around the storage room for something, anything, that could help protect his brother from Bill. Unfortunately, they hadn’t thought to bring unicorn hair or moonstones on their voyage. He did have titanium, but he wasn’t confident enough in his emergency medical knowledge to perform cranial surgery on his own, and he doubted they’d be able to find a doctor crooked enough to do it for them. Currently, his best idea was to build an updated version of Project Mentem, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure Stan had.

“I can re-enter your mindscape and shatter him again.” Ford decided, pulling out the candles again. “That should at least buy you a few days.”

“Ok.” Stan nodded. He’d definitely prefer to know Bill was shattered again, and not moving around in his brain. “But it’s not like he’s doing anything right now.”

“He’s probably trying to get us to lower our guard.” Ford assumed. “I’ll need to tie you up. He usually makes his move while his victim is asleep.”

“If I need to fall asleep for your spell while tied up, we’re gonna be waitin’ a long time.” Stan warned. “I dunno if I could even fall asleep right now if I had the world’s most comfortable bed.”

“Fair point.” Ford nodded. “I may have to drug you.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” It was abundantly clear that Ford was not kidding in the slightest.

“Would you rather be used as his puppet!?” The old researcher shouted. The outburst rang in the air for a few seconds while Ford tried to steady his breathing. “Stan I… I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s ok.” Stan pulled him into a hug and tried his best to calm his brother down. “I know you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared for myself.” Ford explained in a small voice. “I’m scared for you. Waking up to find that you’ve hurt someone, it’s-- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you--”

“Stanford, look at me. We’re not gonna let that happen. What if we do it while I’m awake, like we did with the memory before?”

Ford nodded meekly. “That… that could work.”

“You can still tie me up if that makes you feel better.”

The old researcher bit his lip. “...It shouldn't be necessary...”

“Ford.”

“...But it probably would ease some of my fears, yes.” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go get the rope.”

Still unwilling to let his brother out of his sight, Ford followed Stan up to the deck while he retrieved said rope. Once they were back below deck, he wrapped Stan tightly in a large blanket before sitting him down on a chair and tying him up, to ensure he was as comfortable as possible while still restricting his movement.

“How do you feel?” Ford asked as he lit the candles.

“Like I’m about to be shipped back to Oregon in the mail.”

“And Bill…?”

“I haven’t felt anything else from him since we left the library.”

The lack of activity should have reassured Ford, but instead it just added to his general unease. At least he was able to compose himself enough to perform the incantation.

Just as last time, after a flash of light, he found himself on the deck of Stan’s mindscape, with Stan himself standing beside him. This time, though, Bill was floating there, waiting for them.

“I KNEW YOU’D BE BACK HERE AFTER I GOT YOUR ATTENTION IN THE LIBRARY!” The demon taunted. “OH, AND LOOK. STANO HERE EVEN MADE A MENTAL CONSTRUCT OF HIMSELF WITHIN HIS OWN MIND JUST SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO FACE ME ALONE! HOW CUTE!” He prodded Stan in the stomach like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Back off, bucko!” Stan threatened. “We’re here to break your whole face!”

“WHAT, YOU COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL TONIGHT TO DO IT IN YOUR DREAMS LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?” Bill asked, voice dripping with false innocence.

“We’re not able to risk the chance of you parading about in Stanley’s body.” Ford growled.

“HA! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, FORDSY, I ONLY DO THAT TO STUBBORN KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO WON’T WORK WITH ME WILLINGLY.”

“If you think I’m gonna work with you willingly, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Stan grunted.

“HEAR ME OUT, MAC! WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING HERE! ME, OUT OF YOUR SAD PATHETIC MIND!”

“You can’t leave!?” Ford asked in surprise.

“WHAT, YOU THINK I ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN THIS BOZO’S MIND? YOU THINK I WAS PLOTTING MY REVENGE?”

“Honestly, yes.”

Bill gave a long, mocking laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT A COUPLE OF INSIGNIFICANT FLESH SACKS LIKE YOU?”

“We’re the insignificant flesh sacks who killed you!” Stan reminded him.

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. THE BEST REVENGE IS LIVING WELL.”

The brothers exchanged a suspicious glance. They highly doubted Bill actually believed that adage.

“BUT I CAN’T EXACTLY LIVE WELL TRAPPED IN YOUR MINDSCAPE. I MIGHT GET BORED AND DECIDE THE BEST REVENGE IS KILLING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR OWN HANDS.”

Ah yes, that was more along the lines of what they expected from Bill.

“So you’re saying you’ll just let bygones be bygones if I cooperate with you?” Stan asked skeptically.

“WE’LL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS, NEVER TO MEET AGAIN!”

“And what are you planning on doing once you’re free?” Ford asked coldly.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIXER.” The demon waved him off. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OUT OF HERE OR NOT? THE SOONER THE BETTER. YOU TWO AREN’T GETTING ANY FURTHER AWAY FROM THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF A HUMAN MALE, AND FISH FACE HERE DOESN'T EXACTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIS BODY.”

“Hey!” Stan shouted indignantly.

“Why should Stan’s life expectancy factor into this?” Ford asked.

“HMMM? OH, NO REASON.” Bill said evasively. “I’M JUST, Y’KNOW, IN A HURRY.”

“You’re an immortal, extradimensional being. You’ve been trying to find a way out of the nightmare realm since before multicellular life developed on this planet. If you’re so sure we’re close to the end of our lives, why not wait until we’re out of the way? You must realize we’ll try and stop you from starting Weirdmaggedon again!” Ford reasoned.

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT STARTING WEIRDMAGGEDON AGAIN?” Bill denied. “AND MAYBE AFTER A BILLION YEARS, I’M TIRED OF WAITING!”

“Unless you aren’t immortal any more.” the old researcher concluded.

“YOU’VE SEEN FOR YOURSELF, FORDSY, EVERY TIME YOU OR YOUR IDIOT BROTHER SHATTER ME, I PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER.”

“Immortal in the mind, perhaps. But what happens when the mind you’re occupying finally dies?”

“ALRIGHT, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!” Bill sneered. “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN A GENIUS LIKE YOU WOULD. YEAH, MY LIFE’S TIED TO THE BIG MACKEREL’S NOW. SO WHAT? YOU GONNA KILL YOUR BROTHER JUST TO GET RID OF ME?”

“Of course not!” Ford barked.

“Hey, I’d be more than happy to take you down with me if it meant making sure you never hurt anyone else ever again!” Stan challenged the demon.

Ford stared at his brother with wide eyes. “Stanley, no!”

“Hey, relax, I’m not talkin’ suicide or anything.” Stan assured him. “But he’s right about one thing. I’m not gonna live forever.”

I’ll only do it if I have to. A stray thought cawed overhead.

Stan cussed under his breath as Ford gaped at him with a mix of alarm and pity.

“I’m not gonna take it back.” Stan insisted after a moment. “If that’s what it comes down to, to keep him from hurtin’ you or the kids, then I’m taking him down with me.”

Ford placed his hands firmly on Stan’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with all the intensity he could muster. “We won’t let that happen!”

Bill laughed at them cruelly. “RIGHT, CUZ YOU’VE HAD SO MUCH SUCCESS STOPPING ME IN THE PAST.”

“I’ll find some other way!” Ford insisted.

“I’M SURE YOU COULD, WITH TIME.” Bill agreed. “BUT I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP BEFORE THEN!”

Not if I strangle myself first! Another one of Stan’s stray thoughts called.

Ford gave his brother a frustrated shake. “No! Stanley, I swear to you, that won’t be necessary!”

“Alright, that’s it. We’re not havin’ this conversation in my brain, where you can hear all my unprocessed thoughts.” Stan decided.

Suddenly, Ford’s form and everything around them flickered and began to fade to white. Stan and Bill were the only ones who remained solid and whole. Stan was waking up? But he’d never been asleep before the spell in the first place!

“Don’t you try any funny business!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “I’m coming back to shatter you into a million smaller pieces as soon as I fall asleep tonight!”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Stanuary 2021 #This jerk

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butyouvealwaysbeenthecaretaker · 4 years

Text

There's something I'm trying to put into words,

about the discomfort of straight women who are very into slash and yaoi. It's been bothering me in a quiet way for a while, and then over the weekend it exploded, and I'm trying to pick my way through pain constructively.

There's a couple of things.

~*~

Point zero is that desire is good, actually, and so is fantasy. Keep this in mind, we'll come back to it.

~*~

The first thing is shame. People who are choosing to approach their own desire from the side, not willing to recognise their own bodies or vocalise their desire in their own voice, or think about sex in which their bodies participate. People who are too afraid to work on their own liberation, so take yours.

After all, feminist sexual writing is a whole genre and tradition. The only reason why queer men's liberation feels appealing to these women is that they have nothing at stake in it: it's fantasy, it's safe, it's nothing to do with or about them.

For actual queer men, the process of liberationary sex writing is - of course - mortifying; or there is a stage of mortification and pain one experiences in approaching it. It is not, and never will be, your safe space; that's why you're trying to transform it into one.

~*~

The second thing is privacy. I'd wake up and log on and there would be a full-flown gigglefest about sex in slash, and not being able to quite put my finger on how to say - this is making me feel bad and weird. And in retrospect, this picks up on point 1. Whose bodies are we sexualising in this space. I want to go back and start a conversation about how I prefer girl-on-top and how people who read missionary fic are gross, and hey when you read Barbie/Ken fic, do you see them mostly doing it doggy style?

Because I think that would make-it-real, for these women to feel their own bodies are at stake and being scrutinised in the conversation.

Making my morning coffee, I wonder what kinds of sexual relationships these women have, and if they know that "gay missionary" isn't this abstract concept that appears in fanfiction but a kind of sex they have all the right anatomy to experience for themselves. I suspect they would not like that, and that also the purpose of these conversations is specifically so that nobody envisages them having sex, or being sexual beings.

~*~

The third is experience.

A. thinks that it's a problem that teenagers watch gay porn. (A. wrote her dissertation on gay porn.) A has never had her rights removed on the basis that the world must be made "safe for children".

B thinks there's too much gross stuff in fanfic and it should be banned. B has never experienced fanfic archives removing LGBT material under the aegis of child-protection and removing what is "gross". B has never experienced a reasonable-sounding expansion of anti-kink laws being used in the vaccum where anti-gay laws once stood, the way they disproportionately target queer porn, or are used to harass sex workers, or arrest queer people.

C thinks that anyone who has a gross fantasy, is a hair-trigger away from actually hurting somebody. C is cisgender, and will never be arrested in a bathroom or have her body regarded as inherently a gross sexual fetish. C does not date women, and has never come to learn that a fist may be more easy to take than a kiss, when you are made to feel disgusting for desiring love. C is also asexual - the shame associated with having a sexual expression of any kind is not on her radar. C does not experience gender dysphoria, and had to wrestle with the downright odd things you brain does to manage a libido and an incoherent body all at once. C has never dated someone who survived the peak of AIDS, and has formed intimate connections between blood and sex and death, forged by decades of homophobic media and law. C. cannot tolerate the concept of erotic horror because she has never been made to experience her own body and desires as horrifying.

All these women spend all their free time making stories about imaginary gay and crossdressing men, talking about drag race, and sylvester.

This is not dissonant to them. As we have said, these women see queer man culture as a a place of safety - an escape from patriarchy and their own discomfort. They are unable to comprehend queer expression as a thing that is not safe.

They are very certain that they can tell the difference between a sexual expression that is gross and nongross; and hurting the gross is therefore OK, because punishing perverts will never be co-opted in their soft-focus world of tender coffeshop AUs and gentle longing and having the right kind of gay sex that is photogenic for women to consume.

~*~ A corollary: these things are not for you. What if we defined queer media - one of many possible definitions - as a thing that excludes. Their defining quality is a conversation between queer artist and queer listener, drawn from the conversations the artist had with their friends and lovers, or conversations with the world which anyone within the wall will find familiar.

I am suddenly, humbling-ly and viscerally aware of where the *don’t like white people who like ballroom culture* people are coming from

~*~

The fourth thing is that broader conversation about women with privilege (whiteness, class, straightness), being unable to consider that their behaviour could ever be dangerous or destructive.

Their own narrative of sexual victimhood and shame is central in their own hearts, and they are incapable of adopting an intersectional perspective which adds nuance to their experiences.

~*~

And the fifth is how much they hate you when you try and bring actual queer politics into their fragile world.

Simultaneously asking, on the one hand - could we make this space safe for work again, so it feels a little less like it does now? and being howled at, as if that's an outrageous restriction on their right to talk about pornography.

And on the other, if we are to be a porn conversation place, can we try and rethink the judgemental "anyone who likes weird sex is a threat" attitudes that come up over, and over, and over again.

Needless to say, the needle for "this man is a sexual predator" fired in under 30 seconds and, shortly after demanding I leave the community I established, nobody has spoken to me since.

~*~

There's a particular soreness, I think, of being around people who want to casually chat about drag and feel like Born This Way is theirs and want to PM you about their dissertation on gay porn studios of the 1970s and stan the Marquis de Sade

but cannot take the reality of being around queer people or their lives.

An ugliness, a grossness, a grossness that compounds the passively "being treated like a sexual object" into an active bar on having sexual subjectivity. A be seen but not heard of the bedroom: be seen, a Bowie-chiselled Velour-glamoured Cowley-sparkling Velvet Goldmine vision;

but not heard, as in, don't ever cross that line into talking about real sex in our fantasies (even when our fantasies are your real sex), and don't ever make us consider that our words have weight.

I'm spending time in a little world with women who like Interview with a Vampire, the Company of Wolves, David Lynch and the Marquis de fucking Sade, and who are so fragile around their own fears of desire that they cannot tolerate someone saying - it's fine to be into stuff, and not be ashamed.

This odd middle space, where on the one hand I am comfortable in spaces which are sexually silent - where the horror and challenge of my body and life never come up; and on the other, I am comfortable in spaces which are radically sexually open, in which no-one need feel afraid or judged.

These women, on the other hand, want something else: this desire to talk about sex billowing out of them, irrepressably, but also to use that freedom to box other sexualities down tight - to judge, to shame, to define themselves coyly by describing others as disgusting, to feel that urge spilling into view only to publically run away from it and demand others do the same.

Erotica, without wanking. Desiring men, without women. Thinking about the sex lives of your toy dolls, but not being into that weird stuff. Fantasies, with no bodies. Male sexuality, with no actual men in it.

~*~

I am the last of three queer people who has left that community; and still, I imagine, the "define our own sexuality in coded ways by judging things we are not as gross, and creating in the gaps around our own bodies and desires a world of gay men who are like I wish to be" conversations are going on; but unobserved by any actual queers who might break the fantasy.

And reader, I liked these people. I'm heartbroken.

#longreads #responses welcome but reblog with care #I have this lovely little note I was sent last week from one of them saying how much they appreciated the work I'd put in to making such a n #nice community #The bedroom politics tag #the feminism tag

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wilhelmjfink · 4 years

Text

Daryl Dixon Drabble #6 — Pt. 3

Clearly, this is no longer a Drabble. I have no self control. This has been sitting in my documents for months, and I really like it, so why haven’t I posted it? Because my life is a fucking mess, y’all. It’s not very long, but you don’t care.

Who wants to guess how many more parts of this I will add over the next fucking fifteen years I make you wait? Who knows. Enjoy it now. Or don’t.

—

You’d half expected him to take off when you made it back to the campsite you shared — if you could even still consider that after the events of the night — but were instead surprised to see Rick, Lorie and Herschel had made their way into camp and stood around the glow of your campfire. Rick and Lorie were armed, their bodies stiff and uncomfortable and on edge it seemed, and they both turned at the sound of you and Daryl approaching in sync before lowering their handguns with their features softening in recognition.

“There y’all are,” Lorie exhaled with relief, tucking her pistol back into the holster resting on her hip. Still buzzed, you couldn’t help but notice Rick’s revolver remained in his grasp. “What in the world is going on?”

It was then you realized that you hadn’t come up with an adequate excuse for why exactly you and Daryl had literally been running around in the woods; and also the exact moment you realized how fucking stupid you felt, running after Daryl when he stormed off as if he — of all people — would do something careless and manage to get into trouble. And then what? You went after him like you would be able to save him from any danger. As if you didn’t just drag him into a dangerously idiotic situation that could’ve easily been avoided if you weren’t acting like a drunken frat girl, calling him names and spitting lies to hurt him and only then acknowledging your true feelings after you thought you may have pushed him away for good.

And as if you weren’t already embarrassed enough of course Daryl had you covered while you blindly fumbled the metaphorical football and tripped over your own feet, opening his mouth before you could manage to choke out some half-assed story about a stray walker in the night.

“Thought we heard somethin’ crawlin’ around,” he replied, smooth as the whiskey he (always) vaguely smelled of, once again just reminding you that, Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip — what is this, middle school? “Found a straggler outside the next pasture — fell over the fence or somethin’.”

You turned to look at him, to see if maybe he would be looking back at you and somehow convey to you what the fuck you were supposed to say or do or feel right as Rick decided to speak up.

“We heard screamin’, his expression was unreadable in the flickering glow of your slowly-dying campfire. “You alright?”

You could still feel your head spinning and the boney fingers intertwined in your hair and pulling your scalp but you were determined now to prove something, literally anything, to Daryl that you made sure to answer for yourself before he could try.

“Yeah, it got the jump on me,” you blurted out, almost before he even finished his last word, then dropping your gaze to the ground shamefully. “It just — y’know, scared me. But... Daryl got it.”

You were briefly self-conscious that you’d tried so hard to casually add on that last bit that it came out as bitter and immature as you really felt, and you forced yourself to swallow down the nausea that rose along with the shame and the flush of warmth from your chest to your cheeks.

“Well, good, but next time...”

Daryl waved a dismissive hand as he broadly stepped past the sheriff’s wife and closer to campsite. “Won’t be no next time. ’Sides, it ain’t nothin’ I couldn’t handle myself. Didn’t need to alert the whole damn village.”

Lorie — god damn Lorie, of course, who could never just leave things alone and always has to poke and prod opened her mouth to argue. “Still. We shouldn’t — “

“Man, enough with this fuckin’ ‘we’ stuff, alright? Ain’t no ‘we’ here — no ‘us’ — so give it a rest ‘n leave me the hell alone!”

You were left in silence, the wake of Daryl’s rage burning a trail behind his heels that violently kicked up dirt and rocks at you where you stood whilst watching him storm off. It was a very familiar sensation, the onset of tears threatening to fall, but you always knew when wanting to withhold them back would prove futile and instead of wasting the last of your energy trying, you hung your head and instead focused on trying to keep them as quiet as possible, at the very least.

“We’ll have to make a lap around the perimeter,” Herschel added nonchalantly, unbothered by Daryl’s emotional outburst and the fact that it had you choking back sobs as you stood in front of him. “Make sure all of the fencing is still holdin’ up okay. Maybe add some barbed wire or electricity or somethin’.”

You felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and stiffened, but saw Lorie standing at your side with her head cocked curiously and somehow pitifully at you. She offered you a tight smile.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” she agreed softly. “Let’s get back to bed. Why don’t you come sleep in the RV tonight? Carl can — “

Harshly shrugging her palm from your shoulder you straightened up, trying to remember how the current state of your own camp might be — you’d left it behind with a bottle of whiskey in tow to cross the few hundred yards between as you had the previous few nights, but that all seemed like a lifetime ago in retrospect. “No, I’m fine. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

As you strode away you could almost feel Lorie reaching for you, surely to add a comment of some sort or offer at least an escort back to your own camp, but you were extremely thankful to whatever it was that had convinced her to just keep her mouth shut for once in her fucking life.

The campfire was low now, the embers burning brightly within the logs they intertwined but with very little of the once roaring flames left. It smoked, the scent still somehow comforting to your soul even after the last few months of hell you’d endured — and once foolishly thought only possible within cheap horror flicks — managed to taint the long-gone memories of camping for fun instead of a dangerous lack of secure shelter. You wouldn’t have met Daryl if it weren’t for having lived through all of those nightmares. And, yet somehow, that thought still managed to scare you in a way that monsters and zombies never could.

Torn from your thoughts by the unmistakable sound of your boot crunching glass beneath your foot, you stopped. Just a few hours ago, those boots had been insignificant to you, tossed carelessly to the side of Daryl’s tent where they lay for the rest of the night. Light purple socks draped over them, just as quickly forgotten — it was a small luxury, but one almost instantly you’d grown to cherish when your life suddenly became full of long, taxing walks through all the various terrains the state of Georgia had to offer during the dog days of summer. You had only been a shot or two deep, but you were already basking in the sensation of thick, luscious grass against your bare feet once again.

“Shouldn’t be barefoot out here,” Daryl had quipped harmlessly from where he knelt opposite of you, stoking the workings of your campfire in the evening glow. You opened just one eye, content to relax where you were, but your body instantly began to sit up, already working to get up from where the tree stump you were sitting on and make its way to your discarded socks and boots.

“And why not?” You responded curiously. Of course, you were acutely aware of several reasons you shouldn’t be barefoot in the beginning chapters of what you safely assumed was the end of the world as you knew it — the only thing you were curious about was the nagging voice in your head you were struggling to ignore that made you realize you just wanted to hear him talk. Didn’t matter about what, apparently.

Instead of a gruff explanation about how you realistically needed to be prepared to jump up and run for your life at any second, Daryl had just shrugged half-heartedly. “Fire. Glass. Bees. Ya know.”

Doubled over you were already retrieving your socks and boots from up off the ground. “Fireglass bees?! That sounds awful!”

There was the soft snap of a twig and then the feeling of it bouncing off of your back, tossed playfully by the archer as he continued to break kindling over the growing fire.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when ya get a shard of glass lodged in there,” he’d said lightly. “Shit hurts.”

You chanced a quick glance around the fire pit and proximity of the camp. “I don’t see any broken glass around here.”

“Well, yeah, nobody ever sees it before walkin’ on it. People don’t cut themselves open on purpose, y’know.” He pauses. “Smart people, anyway.”

You vividly remember the way his mouth quirked up into a smirk; the way you felt so relaxed and relieved that he seemed to feel the same way. The glass at your feet was the shattered remains of the once full bottle of whiskey that you liked to assume was solely responsible for how things had gone wrong that night. You don’t remember who dropped it, or even hearing it break.

But there you were, on your hands and knees in the dirt as you hunted for it’s pieces using what little light remained of the dying fire beside you. You didn’t know why you were doing it, either — as if you could somehow actually retrieve every last bit of the bottle, you could glue it back into its original form, a fragile vessel too pure for any leaks or cracks or chips that could compromise its integrity, and then maybe you could do the same to the deeply complex relationship you had with Daryl that you had managed to destroy in literal seconds.

Heavy tears obscured your vision and you blinked them away furiously, heart pounding in your chest, trembling hands instinctively clenching into fists to subdue the sudden need to just fucking hit something all the while simultaneously closing around the collection of glass pieces you’d gathered in your left hand over your last few minutes of absent-mindedness.

With a hiss of pain you released your grip, several shards falling from your grip but some remaining by way of stabbing themselves into the soft flesh of your palm.

Ironic, you thought, that Daryl had never warned you about getting glass lodged into your hand.

Then again, he shouldn’t have had to. People don’t cut themselves open on purpose.

Smart people, anyway.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon drabble #the walking dead drabbles #the walking dead daryl dixon

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

You and Me...

Chapter 17

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non con, male!rape, injury, violence, discription of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self harm, panick attackes, implied female non con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chatper Warnings*** Whew okay here we go, self harm, insinuated panic attack, lots of fucking crying, mentions of blood and hospitals, Angst, Fluff if you squint. I think that’s about it.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1901

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine!, Please do not copy my work!! Feedback is gold! I hope you enjoy this one!

Summery: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter you course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getthing through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

The next morning you found yourself waking up on Alex's couch.

If you could call it really ‘waking up’. You never really went to sleep… You may have dozed off for like 30 minutes, most. You felt numb, drained, and just broken...

"So then he pushed you?" Alex asked, trying to wrap his head around everything that happened last night just like you where.

You’d just gave a small nod, you couldn’t even get your voice to work anymore.

"Well babe I'm no expert, but the poor guy isn't exactly stable... You kind of hit a nerve, and he just reacted. I don't think he did it on purpose." Alex said, and you knew he was right, but you were too embarrassed to go back to Jensen's right now.

Everything felt so… raw… like salt in an open wound raw..

What if he didn’t want to see you again, what if he can’t forgive you for leaving him, what if it’s over between the two of you, and now he has to go through all that shit he’s been going through alone, and it’s all your fault...

Picking up your phone you checked it for the first time since you walked out of Jensen’s door last night. You had over 80 missed calls from Jensen. Your voice mailbox was full. The same message every time. Jensen, telling you how sorry he was, that he loved you, and wanted you to come home.

Begging, crying, some of the messages you could barely even make out what he was saying.

"I know you're right. I pushed him, I shouldn’t have pushed him. I feel so fucking stupid.” You say, looking through your call log.. Noticing that they stopped somewhere around 4 this morning.

"Well my opinion on the whole situation is the two of you were just under way too much stress. Causing you both to over react. It's not abnormal for people that have been through the trauma that he's been through to have to take some sort of pills for nerves and stuff, and it’s not uncommon for them to act out the way he did when you struck a nerve with him last night. You hit him where it hurts" Alex’s wife said, sitting down on the arm of the couch next to you.

You knew she was right. Which only made you feel horrible for the things you had said to Jensen last night.

He wouldn't want you back. You must have hurt him badly. Striking where you knew he was weak, just because you were upset that you found the pills, and jumped to conclusions. That’s why he stopped calling at 4 this morning, he’s done with you.

Well that’s what your head was screaming at you anyway.

A loud knock on the front door jarred the three of you from your conversation.

"I got it," Alex said, getting up and opening the front door.

Of all the people that you thought you would see when he opened the door, Jared wasn't who your money was going to be on.

"Jared?" You said, shocked, sitting your coffee cup down on the table in front of you, and standing to your feet. "How the hell did you find me?" You asked him.

"Well, the last thing you said to Jensen last night was that you were going to Alex's. I remember you telling me about an Alex you know that owned a bar. I got to the bar and the girl behind the bar was more than willing to tell where Alex lived to a 'successful movie star' like myself." He said, his voice annoyed, but still dripping with sarcasm.

Alex turned to his wife, eyes narrow and mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Remind me to fire her." He said, stepping back letting Jared in.

"Come on y/n, i'll buy you breakfast, we need to talk in private." You dropped your gaze to the floor. You knew you were in for it, but you also knew you deserved it.

Turning around you hug Alex and his wife, thanking them for letting you stay the night. Jared grabbed your bag, and the two of you made your way to a small café just outside the apartment complex that Alex lived in.

You had never seen Jared this quite, or this serious, and it was unnerving.

When the two of you had ordered, and the waitress disappeared, he finally spoke.

"So, you wanna tell me what the hell happened between the two of you last night? My best friend calls me, crying so hard that I couldn't understand him, telling me that he'd pushed you, and that you'd left him... When I finally got his front door open, I find him on the floor bleeding in the bathroom."

He reaches in his pocket and throws his phone across the table to you. You picked it up slowly, and looked at the photo's there. There were pictures of Jensen arms. Long deep cuts littered each wrist, almost all the way up his forearms. Clearly taken at the hospital right before the doctor stitched him up.

"I left the ER and brought him home about an hour ago. They had to stitch up about five of those cuts on each arm." Jared said, he was angry, and you were in shock..

"Why did he do this?" You asked, trying to swallow back the tears that threatened to spill over, and the nausea that pulled hard at your stomach.

"We don't really know for sure…. Some sort of self mutilation... Said he'd hurt you, so he deserved to hurt. I don't think he was trying to kill himself, and after a talk with the inhouse therapist at the hospital neither do the doctors, even though he came damn close to doing just that. It seems he was just trying to inflict pain. Some sort of self harm." Jared said.

You close your eyes and rub your face. You didn't know what to say, what to think. Your heart hurt so much. This was your fault, you overreacted, and it literally almost killed him..

"You know he didn't mean to shove you, he's not well. You pushed a button, and he just reacted. He'd rather die than hurt you, you know that." Jared said, after the waitress left your food on the table.

"Where is he now?" You asked, afraid he was alone, and still not in good mental place. You couldn’t stop your hands from shaking.

"He's at his house. Gen is staying with him until we come back.... Assuming that you're going to come back." Jared said, looking at you like a father looks at his kids when they've done something stupid, and that the moment you felt like a stupid kid for the way you had acted, and now Jensen was hurt, and it was your fault.. If you could literally kick yourself in the face you’d do it.

"Yeah, I'm coming back..I overreacted...This is my fault.” Taking a deep breath you try to stabilize yourself.

“I still love him Jared, I don't want to leave him. I just don’t know if he wants me back." You tell him. Shoving your food around your plate with a fork to keep your hands busy in an attempt to try, and keep yourself from bawling like a baby in a crowded restaurant.

"Oh he wants you back. He literally cried himself to sleep by the time I got him home. Poor guy was so hysterical that they didn’t want to release him from the hospital, but telling him that he could go home so that I could go find you was the only way I could get him to calm down." He said, stuffing food into his mouth, seemingly satisfied that you agreed to go back to Jensen.

"Let's just go. I can't eat." You tell him, standing from the table. Too nauseated to even attempt at eating anything..

"Go ahead. I'll meet you there. The two of you need some time alone." He said, turning back to your plate as you gathered up your stuff.

"Oh and y/n." He said, causing you to stop and turn around. "Don't let stress get to you guys like that again. Be patient with him. That man is crazy about you. If he lost you for good, it'd kill him, and I don’t intend to bury my best friend any time soon." With that he turned back around to his food, and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, making your way back to your car that was still parked at Alex’s building.

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

Pulling up into Jensen's driveway the sense from the night before play in your head, making you feel that much worse.

It was like a horror movie that was stuck on repeat in your head....

You had to make yourself get out of the ca,r and make your way to the front door. When you walked through the front door Gen smiled, and hugged you tightly.

"I'm glad you came back." She said, then walking toward the door. "I'll give you two some alone time. He's asleep right now in the master bedroom, but if you need me, just call. Jared and I will be back buy later to check on you guys." She said, showing herself out before you could even so much as nod.

Taking a deep breath you slowly make your way toward the room where your world almost fell apart last night.

Each step felt like a heavy weight was attached to your ankles, and it took all you had to just put one foot in front of the other.

Opening the door to the master bedroom you see a heap of cover laying on the bed. Slowly you close the door, and walk around to his side of the bed.

He looked horrible, even in his sleep. He was pale, his eyes were swollen from crying, his face was read and raw from constant rubbing. You felt like you wanted to just die right there, he’d been through so much already, you never wanted to cause him any more pain.

Pulling the cover back slowly you slide in right next to him.

He woke up instantly.

Wrapping his arms tightly around you like if he loosened his grip you'd disappear. Even though his injured arms must have been screaming at him..

"I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry!!" He said, tears streaming down his face. His arms were bandaged, and it made you sick to know what caused him to do that was you leaving him.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that stuff to you. I overreacted, I shouldn’t have pushed you like that and jumped to conclusion." You tell him, tightening your grip on him as best as you could.

You don't know how long the two of you laid there like that, but you were sure that you'd never walk out like that on him again.

This man was your heart, he was your reason for being, and you were his. You definitely vowed to never fight with him again. You'd find a different way to work out your problems, but fighting caused this. Fighting hurt you both last night. So what good did it do. It didn't solve anything that's for sure.

After a long time without speaking Jensen finally put his lips lightly to your forehead. "I love you, please don't leave me like that again."

"I love you too. I'm not going anywhere ever again. I promise"

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

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles dark fic #dark!fic #hurt!jensen #jensen x you #jensen x reader #spn fanficiton #spn dark fic #spn fiction #jawritter #you and me

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kitcat992 · 4 years

Note

I come with questions! — 1) Really enjoyed Identity Crisis so I was wondering how the idea for it came about? Like, was it a small vague idea that grew or was it full grown idea straight from the get go? What things changed as you were writing it? 2) What's your method of writing? Do you plan ahead/outline or just go with the flow and edit as you go/later? I am a mess and so I like knowing stuff like that lol

OMG I absolutely DIE when I get questions like these!!!

If you can’t tell, almost no one ever asks me author related questions so I get super excited when someone does 😆 Your girl is about to rammmmbbllleeeeeeee!

Alright, so! Identity Crisis. How did the idea come about? That’s a good one.

I don’t know.

😅

Next question?

Lol, but for real. I came up with the idea during chapter 12 of Identity Theft. That was the chapter I realized “Oh shit, there is NO WAY in any universe I’ll ever be able to tell this entire narrative in one fanfic. Uhhhh...crap. Okay, so...well...uh....sequel? Eck, no, sequel sounds grabby. A continuation. Yes. We’ll *continue* the story in another installment. Shit. Am I doing a series? Goddamnit. I didn’t sign up for this. This is bullshit.”

Basically, when I was writing Identity Theft, I threw every single idea, concept, piece of dialogue, plot thread - all of it. I threw it into a document and began sorting it out. Things I wanted to write, things I wanted to happen, things I felt needed to happen, ect ect and ect ect. Those oddball moments of daydreaming while driving home from work? I logged it all. No thought was spared from being documented.

I’d say maybe 50% got moved into the Identity Crisis folder because there was only so much I could pack into Identity Theft while still holding true to the original narrative I wanted to tell (that being: Tony realizes just how much Peter means to him, Peter gets himself into a pickle, Tony thinks he’s lost him for good/almost looses him for good, Tony comes to realize he’s #dad and ain’t going back)

Was it always a small vague idea? Yeah, kinda. I always knew I wanted to do Venom. Similar to how Identity Theft’s barebone concept was Tony #dad, the barebone concept for Identity Crisis was Peter having PTSD from Identity Theft, and his emotions being manifested and manipulated into something much more extreme by the symbiote. Now, for a HOT second, I was annoyed with how many Venom fics were popping up thanks to Sony’s Venom movie, and I reallllyyy didn’t want to seem like I was doing the same, so I entertained the idea of using Kraven the Hunter as the antagonist for the fic instead (seeing as he’s Dimitri’s brother) However, it never clicked, it never worked, and I never even got the concept on paper. I absolutely needed the symbiote for Peter’s character arc, and definitely needed it for Norman’s (which also leads into something bigger than this narrative can contain, godeffingdamnit I really did NOT sign up for this!)

The only major change the story has seen since outlining it has been length. It was originally only outlined as...20 chapters, I think? The problem is, the further out you outline, the more vague your layouts become. You outline “May and Tony have a talk” only to actually *write* that talk and realize it was most of the chapter, and you need to start splitting things up to avoid reader fatigue.

So I guess that leads right into question #2! Do I plan ahead/outline? Abas-posta-tivly-loutly. Every scene, every chapter, even pieces of dialogue are all already pre-written and laid out.

Again, some are very simplistic - May and Tony discuss Peter’s behavior over lunch. Others are much more detailed - I have 20% of a conversation between Peter and Tony during Chapter 19 already written out, and I wrote it easily over a year ago. As I think of it, I write it. Most of the time, I make notes in my phone, and then copy that back into my computer documents when I have the free time.

The whole “I’ll remember that later” thing is a trap and no writer should ever fall for it.

I also have all my chapters divided into Acts. All my stories have 5 Acts - that’s always been the number that works for me. Act 1 is the foundation, Act 2 is the build up, Act 3 is Shit Goes Down, Act 4 is the More Shit Goes Down/and the Aftermath, Act 5 is the conclusion. Sometimes I view the Acts as seasons, too. Like a TV show. I dunno, it just helps me plan and keep a solid flow to the story.

Outlining never happens in one day either, by the way. I was outlining Identity Crisis WHILE writing Identity Theft. I’m outlining the final story in this series while writing Identity Crisis. The outline can change a little bit once the story starts - I’ve added a few unplanned scenes in both fics along the way, and deleted a few others too. Doctor Strange helping during Peter’s surgery in Chapter 24 of Identity Theft? Was never originally planned. Thor showing up at the end of Identity Theft? THAT was originally planned, and scrapped. Tony asking Hank Pym for Pym Particulars during Chapter 12 of Identity Crisis? Was never planned. I still go with the flow when writing. I don’t stick strictly to an outline i f it doesn’t work anymore. Now, that always adds to my chapter lengths, word count, stresses me out and gives me anxiety - but hey. That’s writing for ya

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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mochuelovelli · 4 years

Note

Since you've opened the door for more ideas on the fix it au, let me first ask you about how Della's relationship with Goldie would come into play and in which episode? How does it go in it?

!!!

Im so glad you asked! Okay so how I see it is that Goldie had been part of the twins' lives ever since they moved in officially with Scrooge, in fact she has even interacted with Fethry and Gladstone on multiple occasions (seeking out Gladstone for his luck at first before realizing it doesn't bleed over to passerbys like she hoped). Donald had been mistrustful of Goldie since he met her, though he was mistrustful of pretty much everyone but Della gravitated towards her.

In my mind (and in this AU), Della is shown more explicitly to be like Louie in that she often did seek out short cuts to adventure for the sake of glory (though the riches were also a nice bonus). While Della may be a good woodchuck, she isn't necessarily "Smarter than the Smarties" like Huey but what she is good at is getting herself and her family out of trouble. While the comics aren't all completely canon they are inspired by the characters. In Della's case she is often shown there as well as in the show to consistently figure out an idea to "scheme" if you will, to solve their problems.

This would be mostly expressed during the "Happy Birthday Doofus Drake" episode as well as "Glomtales" and of course the "Moonvasion" two parter.

Specifically in HBDD, throughout the episode Goldie would hint at having schemed someone like Louie before. For instance in that scene where Louie tries to guilt trip Goldie into mentoring him and Goldie asks what kind of "crying act" Louie was aiming for she might say something along the lines of "You should've known who you were dealing with, I've been aquatinted with your type for as long as you've been alive - erm well, however old that is what are you 11 now?" Maybe a little later Louie asks how she knows him so well, "Did you have a school for schemers or something? What's with all the weirdly specific comments?"

"You think I have patience for a whole school worth of wannabe tricksters? Please, I could hardly handle one." "Did your partnership with him also start by infiltrating a rich kid's party?" "No. Pretty sure she stowed away on my plane to find some kind of mythical Money Tree(or an artifact idk yet)."

Throughout the episode Goldie also refers to Louie as "Sharpie Junior" or "Lil/Mini Sharpie". She also says stuff like "Stop pulling that face kid, you're making me nostalgic." Once Louie returns back and laments about Goldie, this scene might stay the same or substitute Della for Scrooge where she would confess to her relationship with Goldie. Alternatively Scrooge could also reveal that Della was the first "Sharpie" and explain that his mother also got tricked by Goldie on their infamous first mission.

In "Glomtales", Della will also hint at her past as Goldie's first unofficial apprentice during her recorded message. She would also have a more in-depth talk with Louie instead of the more vague "I'll accept you as you are even if I don't understand it." I want her to relate to him, hint at or explicitly state her insecurities as a call back to the first episode of Season 2 where Louie doesn't think he belongs in his family. It might also make it a bit sadder for Della to express in her video message that instead of stating his schemes are hurting the family she tells him "Look, I know what it's like to want to prove yourself. But this isn't the right way I..." She will stop, still not explaining her feelings "perfectly" and implying that she wants to say more but not on video, and finish by saying "This is for your own good, okay? We'll be back soon and erm, if you finish these video logs and not ignore them I'll bring you a souvenir. I'll check if you do too, so don't lie to me Mister!"

Maybe towards the end of Glomtales she adds "I don't want you to be like me, Louie, I want you to be better. So far, you are, I know you're good Louie" Of course Louie "steals" Scrooges company which means the ending of Glomtales might be played more dramatically in an effort not to undercut Della's comment. Scrooge might also echo Della's sentiment in "The Richest Duck in the World" just for more sadness.

Other than that, she would definitely mention it more explicitly in S3 once Goldie returns. As far as fanfiction goes, Goldie and Della's relationship would be flushed out more than just a quick flashback and a couple lines. I headcanon that Gladstone got his habit of nicknaming people from Goldie. Her nicknames for the cousins were "Sharpie" for Della, "Sunshine" for Donald, "Shrimpy" for Fethry (bc he was very small when she first met him, also he rambled about shrimp) and "Clover" for Gladstone

#bruh this was so long im sorry ahhaha #thank u for the ask!#ducktales au #ducktales 17 #ducktales headcanons #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #ducktales fix it au #fix it au #della duck #goldie o'gilt #dt17 #louie duck #sam says shit

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bearpillowmonster · 4 years

Text

Xenoblade Definitive Nonspoiler Review (Gameplay)

The combat is pretty simple but it gets better after the first little bit. If I were to add something to it, it would be to push the analog stick in a certain direction at certain points for more damage. It already has you pressing B at the beginning of the battle, just more of that.

Some moves are more effective from "the side" or "behind" but your enemies move so frequently (unless you topple them) that you may be on the side when picking the move but that doesn't mean you will be by the time Shulk hits it. Same goes with Monado arts, there's that one move that you use when an enemy is inflicted with Break so that you topple them and it takes so long to activate that the break effect wears off before you even get to use it. Same with the Daze. I've felt so cheated so many times by that alone, I could keep going though. So many moves wasted.

Enemies can topple you, rendering you helpless and if they choose to use a special move right after then you're screwed because your party members are more than likely toppled too. That mechanic is stupid, I get that enemies can do what you do to them but it's not satisfying.

You can play as a good variety of characters and they all have different weapons and move sets. Also your health auto-replenishes after a battle so healing is just during battles as certain characters moves. There’s an affinity system, so any NPC (and Playable characters for that matter) with a name can get put into the affinity log. You can also trade with them which is pretty cool especially considering you might need a specific item but don’t have the money to buy it (you will have the money) but relationship points are nice too, it kind of reminds me of the villagers in Minecraft but it puts you in the world a bit better.

The day and night cycle initially stressed me out but you can just change it if need be in the menu which is really handy because sometimes NPCs or a mob is only there during day or night.

But the quirk for playable characters is that reaching certain levels unlocks a “heart to heart” scene and if you know me, then you know I’m into that cheesy goodness. You see where they are on the map but it’s not like “Should I do this one with Fiora or Reyn or...?” They’re already set up for specific characters and have to be unlocked after certain main story events and relationship levels. Coming on top of that is that characters getting discouraged in battle, it doesn’t happen often but when it does, you can encourage them and that’s really cool because it improves stats.

Seems like even if a party member is in your reserves (you can only have 3 to fight with, the rest are interchangeable) then they still get the exp so you don't have to worry about grinding up a specific character, they're all pretty even. The one thing that doesn't improve is affinity, you need to have them in your party to improve that. All in all, it really just comes down to your level, who you have in your party, and luck, if you can't beat a battle, just switch around your party.

Sometimes you use a Monado art only for the boss to use a special move right after (which a Monado art would've come in handy with dodging that) but then you have to rely on using your teammates. You can't switch characters in battle and can only use links when they're available but whenever there's a special move coming, you can warn a party member and you can pick the move that you think most appropriate. A lot of time I heal or revive party members only for them to be killed straight after, or another party member already heals them, so it didn't matter if I used the move but it still counted. You can choose to have the party members stay near you and such but most of the time, I had worse things to worry about. Plus sometimes the enemy can just change targets in the middle of a special move, so if you used shield bullet, you better hope it's on the right person. Despite all this complaining, somehow the gameplay felt like just enough to make the grinding not as bad as it could’ve been because you know there’s a lot of it.

With the affinity system, it says a character’s “likes” and “dislikes” so you can increase relationships between characters by giving gifts from your spoils. And accept as many side quests as you can because chances are that they’re just clearing out specific monsters that will be in your way anyway. I’ve finished more side quests unintentionally than intentional. Plus, accepting missions can increase relationship, specifically with Reyn because he likes to help people.

Speaking of monsters, this game can be compared to Monster Hunter, there are so many different varieties and drops you can get, I take out certain ones just to put them in my index because they look cool. The one thing about the Monster Hunter games is that they lack any motivation or story and this game has plenty. The chests stay in place even if you die. I actually left some at Eryth Sea and came back multiple times and they were still there after most of the story (we’ll call it an experiment but the truth of the matter is that new enemies spawned and I couldn’t beat them at the time)

QUESTS I have a small complaint about the quest system. So you can set a side quest as active, except for the Colony 6 items, but in order to see where the location is, you have to be in that area. So imagine there’s one in Colony 6 for example, you’re in Colony 9, it’ll tell you it’s there but not where you should teleport. You teleport somewhere in Colony 6 and then it tells you where the side quest is. Why couldn’t I just go there directly?

Another small gripe, it auto saves but you can also manually save but if you die it doesn’t load the most recent one, it automatically goes to the auto save but you can manually load your manual save and it’ll be right where you left it but the enemies still respawn. It’s confusing because with auto save, I’ll find chests from the battle I just failed in, so did I still get the exp?

Normally with open worlds, you end up exploring all the parts but even if you count side-quests, that doesn't account for the vastness, I was surprised at just how much you can explore. I wanted to dip my toes in earlier but I realized "We're already past that section!" (story-wise) it just keeps expanding. Luckily, it's like Skyrim and you can fast travel and go back and do stuff you might've missed. It kind of justifies that it holds your hand trying to navigate you but I'm not complaining.

The side quests don't offer much, just kind of a time filler but I wanted to get the full experience so I played all of the Alcamoth as well as Colony 9 quests that I could get, to see if I got anything special (both day and night), yeah there's nothing special, I'm not sure if it does anything if you beat every side quest in the whole game but there's a ton. I worked on Colony 9's affinity a bunch so that I could unlock more, but I finished all the quests so what you need to do is talk to all villagers with a name and trade, I could never get to 5 stars so I quit and I’d rather be playing missions instead of hunting down villagers all day. Why did I try it though? For Desiree, she has a quest and I was interested in it, it even involves Dorothy. You'd think I'd be super buff and stuff for finishing everything in those two areas but no, not really, it certainly helped but I was very under leveled at various points, a habit that I have with RPGs because I hate grinding.

#xenoblade #xenoblade chronicles #review #game #gameplay #switch #definitive

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scullysexual · 4 years

Text

Gone

If you’ve ever watched Dark (the German show on Netflix) it’s very similar to that. I started watching it and this popped into my head. I can also throw it onto the never ending list of college aus I keep writing. I’ll be some time before the next chapter is posted but I just wanted to see what you made of this.

Chapter One: Goodbye.

The dreams are always the same; a bright light, my sister shouting for me. And there’s somebody standing at the door. I can’t move. I reach for the gun but I can’t shoot. I’m just frozen…like I’m paralysed or something.

The cassette player clicks, the tape pausing. Mulder stares at it. Dr Montague sighs.

“That was recorded a year ago,” the therapist says, looking down at his notes. “After your hypnosis treatment.”

Mulder silently nods, not looking away from the player.

“Are you still having those dreams?”

Mulder turns away from the player, his eyes to the carpeted floor.

Montague looks up at his lack of response.

“I need you to talk to me, Fox,” he coaxes, a slight harshness to his voice. “You need to tell me if you’re still having these dreams.”

Mulder sighs and nods quickly.

“Right.” Montague looks down at his notes again. “And it also says that you were suffering from Insomnia, is that right?”

Mulder nods again. “Guess I didn’t want to have the dreams,” he shrugs.

“And Dr Werber prescribed you with sleeping pills. Have they helped?”

Mulder shakes his head. “With the sleeping yeah, not much with the dreams.”

“Okay.” The doctor scribbles something down in his book. “Well, we’ll review what we’ve spoken about today and I’ll get back to you on how to go forward.”

Mulder nods, wanting nothing more than for this session to be over with.

“I think that about wraps up today’s session then.” Mulder reaches for this bag, quicker than what is probably polite. Dr Montague doesn’t miss it. “I will see you next week, Fox?” he asks.

Mulder nods, already heading towards the door and out.

He runs down the steps of the office buildings, the fresh air a welcome reprieve from two hours in a stuffy office. He unlocks his bike, yanking it from the bike stand, and climbs on. He rides towards the forest, away from the city and the people, and the normalcy they had been able to continue on with during his absence.

A year gone and it was like everything was the same as it was before.

But no, it wasn’t, because just like his sister, another kid was missing.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

There’s whispers all around him.

Some people gawk at him as they walk past, others mutter to their friends. He picks up words like Spooky, Freak. Catches sentences as they fly past him; I heard he said his sister was abducted by aliens, Someone told me she was kidnapped by that guy who was selling vacuums, I was told she ran away. Mulder keeps his head down, remaining quiet.

That’s what everyone told him to do; his therapist, his teachers, his parents. Keep your head down, ignore them, don’t retaliate. It’s difficult, he wants to shake them off, knock a few of them around the head. He clenches his fist instead.

They said school was going to be the hardest part of adjusting back.

The latecomers hurry through the gate. Mulder is just about to turn and follow them inside when a body jumps him from behind.

His body smacks into the grass, the window being knocked out of him. The other body quickly moves off him as Mulder raises up onto his hands and knees, coughing over and over towards the ground, feeling like he’s about to cough his guts up.

“Whoa, dude…” a familiar voice says. “You’re guard must be way down today if you let that happen.”

Mulder finishes his coughing fit, standing as Ethan, his best friend (his one and only friend, actually) looks on concerned.

“I’m fine,” he says, getting a few last coughs out.

“Sure,” says Ethan, though he’s still not looking convinced. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

They find their seats easily: back row in the corner. Mulder hooks his bag onto the back of his chair and sits himself down.

“Have I missed much, then?”

Ethan pulls a face as if to say no. “Not really. Oh, another kid went missing, but other than that, everything’s been pretty much quiet in Dullsville.”

Mulder smiles at the town nickname. “I saw the missing posts all over town.”

Ethan shrugs, “Who cares? Kid has a weirdo anyway, sprouting all that whacky shit about aliens in the corner. Who’d believe all that?”

Mulder turns away, suddenly uninterested in the conversation anymore. Whacky shit, yeah.

Ethan notices and realises. “Dude, I’m sorry. You know I don’t think that way about you.”

Mulder shakes his head, shaking him off. “It’s fine,” he says.

It wasn’t fine, though. All those things Duane Barry would continuously say may have seemed insane at the beginning but maybe there was some truth in it after all.

Mulder looks over to the door, to where the rest of the class filters in. His stomach tingles when he catches sight of curly red hair sat beneath a black beanie. They make eye contact and she smiles- almost as if she’s as happy to see him as he is of her- he smiles back, giving her a little wave, one she returns.

He turns back to Ethan, who now has a big smile plastered across his face.

“I didn’t think Scully would still be here,” he says.

“Dana?” The smile turns into a grin as Ethan leans back against the wall. “Guess she’s got a thing or two to stick around for now.” Scully looks back over to them and Ethan blows a kiss towards her. She turns around, rolling her eyes.

It suddenly dawns on Mulder just what Ethan meant. His stomach drops as he looks towards his friend.

“You and Scul…Dana?” he asks, almost unsure.

The grin still across his face, Ethan nods. “Guess a lot of things have changed after all.”

He turns back to Scully trying not to feel so disappointed at it all.

“You know, we’ve been thinking…” Ethan says and Mulder turns his attention back to him. “We’re gonna go to the Wishing Well, see if we can find Barry’s stuff.”

Mulder stares at him like he’s supposed to know what that means.

Ethan sighs and rolls his eyes. “You know, his stuff. His drugs and that. Pretty certain his stash is at the Wishing Well.”

Mulder thinks it over and nods. “What time?”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He sits on a log, waiting, his bike lying on the ground beside him. Above the trees, he sees the sun about to set, half the sky cast in a light purple-orange paint. Is his sister really up there? He’s starting to doubt himself.

“Ethan not here yet?”

Mulder turns around and smiles as Scully walks towards him. He shakes his head, standing.

“Typical,” Scully says, looking up to the sky and back down again. “He’d be late to his own funeral.” Mulder laughs as Scully spins around. “Charlie, keep up!”

Mulder looks behind her to see Charlie Scully walking towards them. He gives a confused look towards Scully.

“He begged to come,” she says as a way of explanation. “Not that I had much of a choice,” turning to Charlie and giving him daggers. She looks back at Mulder. “He said he’d snitch if I didn’t take him.”

“And I want a quarter of whatever you find,” Charlie adds.

“If we even find anything. For all we know this stuff could’ve been cleared out already.”

Mulder stares at her. All day he’s been wanting the chance to speak to her, since that first class when he found out she and Ethan were…something. It had been eating him up all day. He’d hoped, he’d really hoped.

Guess like most of his hopes, they’d all end in disappointment.

“Scully, I-“

“How are you-“

Mulder laughs nervously, Scully pursues her lips together.

“You start,” he says.

“How are you?”

“I’m good,” he nods. “It’s weird being back but yeah, it’s not been too bad.”

Scully nods, a slight smile across her face.

“You?” he asks.

“Okay. I’m been good.”

He nods back. A silence passes over them.

“You know, it was really strange you being gone,” she says, almost shyly.

Mulder looks to the ground, his hands in his pockets. “Couldn’t have been that strange,” he mutters but it’s quiet in the forest and so she hears it regardless.

He glances a look at her, sees her walls going up around her. Can almost imagine her tongue pressing hard against the back of her teeth, her chin lifting and her blue eyes turning to ice.

“You were gone, Mulder,” she answers, all warmth and friendliness gone from her voice. “I wasn’t gonna sit on your doorstep waiting for you.”

He lifts his head up fully, his own eyes turning to steel. “You didn’t have to get with my best friend, though.”

Yeah, that’s good. Make her hurt, too.

There’s a crack in her resolve. A break in her wall. It’s her turn to look away.

Good.

“What are you two just standing there for? Let’s go!” They hear Ethan shout just away from them. He strides up, clocking Charlie on the back of the head as he does so. “Why you bring the Shrimp?” He turns back to Charlie. “Is it not past your bedtime?”

“Fuck off,” Charlie says, swatting Ethan’s hand away when he goes to hit him again.

“I said he could come,” says Scully, turning away from the group and beginning to walk ahead.

“What’s up with her?” Ethan asks Mulder.

Mulder shrugs, not about to get into his and Dana’s conversation. The two start following her, Charlie walking behind them and rubbing his sore head.

“And I want more than a quarter of what you find!”

“Piss off,” says Ethan.

The Wishing Well had been the centrepiece of the forest. When they were younger, it had been a happy place, well looked after by the people of the town. It was a working well, once. Water in it every day, changed regularly, too. They’d throw their pennies in, making wishes, hoping they would come true.

As time went on, the well became overgrown. People stopped caring, kids stopped coming, they even stopped changing the water. Spider webs, wasps nest, ant hills became its inhabitants. The area was overgrown with grass, wildflowers, poisonous mushrooms. It became a place where teenagers would hang about. Nobody ever came here so nobody ever bothered them.

“Where is it then?” Mulder hears Charlie say.

“Bet it’s not even here anymore,” Scully says, annoyance clear in her voice.

“It’s just under the grass,” Ethan says. He walks over to a heavily grassy bit, removes a handful of moss but stops short when he realises that it isn’t there.

“Told you,” Scully says, looking away.

“Looking for this?”

They all turn as Phoebe Green appears out of nowhere, holding Ethan’s prize.

“That’s not yours,” Ethan says, stalking towards her.

Phoebe is quick and tall- taller than Ethan- and holds it above her head, out of his reach.

“It’s not yours, either,” she says. “Finders keepers.”

“Yeah,” says Ethan. What he lacks in height, he makes up for in body mass. He pushes Phoebe, she trips and falls, her head smacking against the wall of the well, dropping the bag of weed. Ethan scoops it up, proudly. “Finders keepers.”

Mulder stands there, unsure of to do.

“You fucking dick, Ethan,” Scully scolds. She walks towards Phoebe and kneels down. “Are you okay?”

Phoebe whacks Scully’s hand out of the way. “I’m fine, I don’t need your help.” She pushes herself off the ground, wipes her hands on her jeans. “Dickhead,” she calls to Ethan.

“Bitch,” Ethan casually calls back. He’s just about to open the bag when a growl emits from around them.

Fear runs through Mulder’s body, a chill up his spine. Phoebe and Scully back away from the well.

“What the fuck was that?” Ethan asks.

“Probably a bear,” says Scully, shaking her own fear away.

The growl happens again, vibrating through the ground. Leaves shake and stones tumble about before it stops.

Charlie looks over, his face white. “I don’t think that was a bear.”

Mulder stares at the well. “I…I think it came from the well.”

Scully lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’m telling you, it was a bear!”

A loud thud sounds from behind him. Mulder jumps back, shaking and genuinely scared as he shines his flashlight upon the sound of the thud.

“I don’t think we’re alone,” Phoebe says.

“Guys, there’s something in the well…” Charlie mumbles.

There’s a sudden downpour of rain, the sky darkening. Thuds and rustles and the growling sound happens again.

Mulder’s body propels him forward, he doesn’t even remember choosing to run, his feet just move.

He can hear the others behind him but he’s solely focused upon himself; running and running and running.

Until he freezes, his body falling onto the hard ground, chin smacking against a rock in the process.

A blinding white light forces his eyes closed. In the distance, he hears shouting. A name. Over and over.

Dana! Dana! Dana!

The light goes. He can move again. He hears a shout of Charlie! as the rain continues to pour down him.

#txf #high school au #gone #chapter 1 #fic:gone #i write

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master-sass-blast · 4 years

Text

Out With the Old, In With the New, Part One: The Worst Monsters are Men...

MY BIRTHDAY IS TOMORROW (april 5th)!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEE!!!!!

Summary: A few days into a mission, your husband goes missing. Along Wade, Nathan, and Neena. When the X-Men refuse to help you, you decide to take things into your own hands --and wind up making an unexpected ally along the way.

Rating: T for gun violence, regular violence, ableism, and abduction. And also swear words.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Set after "It's Truly Magical" but before "Children of the Gods, Part One."

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things

It happens without warning.

Your husband goes on a mission. And then he doesn’t come back.

Your stomach churns anxiously as you wait for your cellphone to chime –for any sign of life from Piotr, really. Baby, where are you? Please come home to me.

***

Talking to the official person in charge of the duty roster does no good.

Chiefly because that person is Scott Summers.

“Look, Y/N, I know you’re concerned—”

“It’s been three days, Scott! Piotr was supposed to be back by now.”

“He requested a mission extension,” Scott says –lies, because Scott Summers is a horrifically bad liar, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

(Not even those damn sunglasses he wears all the time helps conceal it.)

“If we don’t hear from him by tomorrow, we’ll start the retrieval protocol.”

You raise an eyebrow at Scott. “Piotr requested an extension.”

“Ye—”

“Without telling me he was requesting an extension.”

“He may have not wanted to worry you—”

“He texts me good night and good morning every day he’s gone, Scott. He hasn’t done that for three days. So, do you really want to keep going down this route, or do you want to tell me the truth?”

“Are you accusing me of—”

“Show me the extension request, Scott. I know those have to be filed in the mission logs.”

Scott goes pale, swallows hard, but ultimately holds his ground. “If we don’t hear from him in another twenty-four hours, we’ll start the retrieval protocol.”

You roll your eyes at his back as he quickly retreats away from you, then stalk out of the training room. “Fuck you. I’ll handle this myself. Idiot.”

***

You call Wade first. Nathan doesn’t always keep his phone charged if he gets into a work hole, meaning that Wade’s the best bet to get ahold of your ‘somehow knows everything’ dad.

Except you can’t get ahold of Wade. Or Nate. Or Neena, when you decide to try her. Countless texts, phone calls, emails, and face-time requests –which, under normal circumstances, would be downright sociopathic to pull without making sure the recipient is available first, but these are desperate times—go unanswered.

Towards the end of the day, in what can only be described as a burst of mass anxiety and paranoia, you call your uncle.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hey, punk. How’s it going?”

“Oh, thank fuck.” You collapse into the nearest chair, relief surging through you. “They didn’t get you, too.”

“What?” Your uncle’s voice goes from warm and friendly to all business –and a little panicked—in a split second. “Who didn’t get me? What’s going on? Punk, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, but –Piotr’s missing. And Dad. And Wade. And Neena. Piotr went on a mission, but stopped checking in on me three days ago, and then when I tried to call the rest of my family, I couldn’t reach anyone. I’ve been trying all day, and then I thought that maybe someone’s targeting my family, so I decided to call you.”

“Shit,” your uncle mutters. “You’re sure Nathan and Wade are in town, right? And Neena? They don’t have any hits to fill or silent missions they’re running?”

“Wade and I were talking on Snapchat last night,” you answer, panic rising in your chest. “And I saw Nathan during call. And Neena always lets me know if she’ll be out of touch for a job or something.”

Your uncle exhales heavily into the speaker. “Fuck. Yeah, that doesn’t bode well. Did you talk to Charles?”

“He’s out of town for a conference. I had to deal with Scott, and he just shot me down.”

“Asshole.”

“Pretty much.”

“Talk to Scott one more time. I know it probably won’t help,” he adds when you start protesting, “but it’ll give me time to put my ear to the ground, see what I can find. After you try Scott, go over his head. I’ll help you however I can.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course, punk. Now, get moving. Time’s of the essence here.”

“Right.” You make a quick goodbye, then run out of yours and Piotr’s home and fly towards the mansion.

***

By the time you reach Scott’s room, Russell, Ellie, and Yukio are already there, arguing with him.

“We aren’t responsible for Wade—”

“He’s my legal guardian, asshole,” Russell insists indignantly. “Isn’t there a bunch of legal shit you guys have to do if he dies or goes missing?”

“We—”

“And you are responsible for Colossus,” Ellie adds, arms crossed over his chest. “He’s my mentor and an X-Man. And he’s missing, too.”

“How did you—”

“He texts her to see how she’s doing,” Yukio pipes up, looking nowhere near as pissed as Ellie and Russell given her pink hair and soft, fluffy sweater, but frustration still reads plain in her voice. “And he stopped three days ago.”

“Which is the same time he stopped texting me,” you speak up, joining the fray. “Are you actually going to take this seriously now? Because if that’s not enough, Nathan and Neena are missing, too.”

A brief flicker of frustration crosses Scott’s face, but he masks it quickly. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve tried to reach them all day!”

“Maybe they’re just busy. Could you be overthinking it? Did you remember to take your medication today?”

“Are you shitting me?” Ellie snaps, eyes widening with outrage.

“Easy,” you murmur, putting an arm around her small shoulders before staring Scott down. “So, just so we’re clear, it is your intention to not pursue any of this further even though you have multiple complaints from different residents?”

Scott’s face twitches, but his resolve remains strong. “We have a protocol.”

“Yeah, just like that protocol of logging mission extension requests that you can’t show me right now.” You flash him a fake smile. “Thanks for nothing, asshole.”

The three teens follow after you as you storm off.

“What do we do now?” Russell asks.

“Are Cable and Domino really missing as well?” Yukio adds.

“Should we call the Professor?” Ellie suggests.

“The Professor probably wouldn’t be able to do anything, since Scott’s still the man in charge,” you say as you hurry down the main flight of stairs.

“He could make Cyclops toe the line,” Ellie points out.

“It’s still Scott. He’d do the bare minimum just to shut us up, then go back to jerking off –or whatever it he does for fun. And, yes, Neena and Nathan are missing, too. As far as I can tell, at least. As far as what we do now, we go over Scott’s head. I mean, I—” you turn around and look at the three teens staring at you “—go over Scott’s head. Not ‘we.’ You three should stay out of trouble.”

“But Wade’s my guardian!” Russell argues.

“And Piotr’s my mentor.”

“And Scott’s a pain in the ass,” Yukio adds.

“While all those things are true,” you agree, “that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t bring you three into this. Things could get dangerous. You’re all trainees. You’re not cleared for this kind of stuff.”

Ellie glances at Russell and her girlfriend, then crosses her arms over her chest and takes a step towards you. “Well, the way I see it, you can either bring the three of us in and have some idea of what we’re doing, or you can keep us out of it and we’ll just go over your head. Which means we could accidentally get caught in the middle of whatever you wind up doing and get hurt.”

You narrow your eyes at your husband’s mentee. “You are such a Slytherin, and I’m so proud of you, but also how dare you.” You sigh heavily. “Fine. You guys can come with. But if I get in trouble, I’m taking you all down with me.”

***

Fun fact: attached to every suit worn by X-Men and trainees are little GPS trackers that, in addition to letting you know where the wearer of the suit is, also keeps tabs on their vitals.

“Why didn’t you just try this to begin with?” Ellie asks as you pull up the interface that tracks the suits.

“Because it makes a pinging noise to alert the wearer that their location is being monitored,” you explain. “If they’re on a stealth mission, it could alert an enemy agent. I didn’t want to do that in case Piotr had needed to go silent for some reason.”

“Do you think he could’ve?” Russell asks.

“Considering that, as his spouse, I would’ve been notified by the mission board –not to mention he would’ve at least let Ellie or I know himself—and the fact that Wade, Nathan, and Neena are missing, to, I don’t think so.” As much of a pain in the ass as Scott is, if Piotr had actually gone silent, he wouldn’t have just not told you.

“I thought the mission board and Professor Xavier were the only ones with access to the trackers,” Yukio interjects.

“I have spousal permissions for Piotr’s suit.” You pull up the page that lets you enter a password so you can access the tracker, then turn around and face the teens. “I’ve got to enter the password. No peeking.” You wait until they all cover their eyes, then type in the password and hit enter.

“It’s ‘myshka,’” Ellie says without uncovering her eyes.

You whirl around to stare at her. “Hey!”

“You hit seven keys, one of which was the enter button.”

“You really should talk to Colossus about better password security,” Yukio says with an earnest nod.

You sigh (they’re not wrong), then focus on the computer screen.

The good news: your husband’s tracker is still on and still registering his vitals –which look healthy, as far as you can tell.

The bad news: it’s out in the middle of nowhere in Upstate New York. No nearby roads, no registered address, just a couple of GPS coordinates.

“Where the hell is that?” Russell asks as he peers at the laptop screen over your shoulder.

“A couple hours from here,” you say as you write down the coordinates and the nearest identifiable landmarks. “I’m gonna go check it out. You guys stay here—”

“We’re helping whether you like it or not,” Ellie interrupts, expression comically stern given her round face and rounder eyes.

“Yes, you are, but I can’t carry all of you with me,” you say. “Besides, I need you three here to collect information.”

Russell’s brow furrows. “What information?”

You send a quick text to your uncle to let him know you’re leaving the phone with Russell, Ellie, and Yukio, then hand it to Ellie. “I called my uncle when I realized Wade, Nathan, and Neena were missing, too. He’s looking into all of it for me. If he calls with any information, I’ll need you guys to take it down and possibly do some –computer only—research on it.”

“Won’t you need the burner phone, just in case you get captured?” Yukio asks.

You shake your head. “Can’t risk his number getting in the wrong hands. I’ll have my phone on me, and I’ll wear my suit so you can keep track of me. If I’m gone longer than six hours, or if my suit goes offline, call my uncle immediately. Not the Professor, not Scott, but my uncle. Okay?”

The three teens give you equally scared looks, but all nod anyway.

You hug each of them before flying upstairs to get changed and pack a small bag with some supplies. Hang on, honey. I’m coming.

***

The coordinates turn out to be home to the middle of a massive, matte black warehouse with virtually no windows in the middle of a dense forest. There’s only one road leading in or out, which is cut off from the warehouse itself by towering concrete walls topped with razor wire, a hulking gate with multiple guards, and several armed men patrolling the perimeter as well.

Definitely not suspicious at all. Definitely does not read as “hidden government or evildoers base” whatsoever.

Scott Summers, you are so full of shit, you think to yourself as you peer down at the warehouse through a pair of electronic binoculars (a Christmas gift from Alexandra). Requested an extension, my ass. You frown as you watch a large, but otherwise non-descript van get waved through the gate. Piotr, baby, what did you do to wind up in here?

Your mind flashes to images of Piotr, bound against his well, likely being experimented on by various nefarious, white lab coat and nerd glasses wearing scientists. Your teeth grit together, and you steady yourself with a deep breath. Just hang in there, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you out.

You crawl forward a little further, hoping to get a better look at the lot surrounding the warehouse—

And you wind up bumping into a large, muscular woman, wearing all black –like you—with black hair cut into an angled bob, dark eyes, and—

Angel Dust.

Your eyes widen when the description connects with the stories Wade’s told you, and you quickly shove her away from you with a blast of air. “You fucking traitor! Helping lock up your own kind for a fucking bullshit paycheck! I’m gonna beat your ass—”

“What the fuck –stop it!” She whips a rock the size of a small child at you, narrowly missing your head. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who the fuck are you?”

“You’re working with them!” You jerk your head towards the warehouse.

“The fuck I am!” She finally notes your suit, and her mouth twists into a grimace. “Oh. You’re X-Men.”

“Damn right. Now, give me one good reason not to bounce you down this hill like a beach ball!”

Angel Dust smirks. “You’re a little rougher around the edges than most of them…” The smirk fades just as quickly as it appeared, and the color seems to drain from her face. “Fuck, you’re Wilson’s sister, aren’t you?”

“Ding-ding-ding, bitch!” you hiss. “And if you aren’t here to work for those cockwipes, then what the fuck are you doing on this hill?”

“I could ask you the fucking same—”

“Look, unlike my brother, I don’t have to get close to you to hit you. So, unless you want to go through that line of trees, I suggest you start talking.”

She rolls her eyes, but relents. “I’m here to rescue my daughter.”

“Daughter?” Your face scrunches up in confusion. “Wade didn’t say anything about you having a daughter.”

“Yeah, well, he wouldn’t fucking know!”

“I suppose that’s fair –considering you helped torture him and almost killed him, then helped kidnap his girlfriend!”

“Fuck’s sake –the fuck do you want from me?”

“Proving you have a daughter and that you aren’t lying might be a good start.”

She glowers at you, then begrudgingly takes a wallet out of her pocket and pulls out a few pictures. “Here. Proof enough?”

The pictures show Angel Dust holding a young girl –first as a baby, then a couple shots of them at a park when the girl looks about to be three, one of them eating ice cream together when the kid looks about five, and a school photo headshot dated from this year, in which the girl looks to be around seven.

Granted, she could be lying, but the pictures look real enough. Besides, if she really was working with the warehouse people, she probably wouldn’t have tried to convince you otherwise in the first place.

“What’s her name?” you ask, stiffly hanging back the pictures.

“Madeline. Maddie, for short. Why are you here?”

“They have my husband.”

“He an X-Man, too?”

“Yeah. Colossus. The big metal guy that you punched in the dick.”

She smirks. “Oh, yeah. Good brawler. Kinda sweet. He refused to ogle me when one of my tits fell out of my shirt.”

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile. “That’d be him.”

Tense silence falls around the two of you as you regard each other warily.

“Far be it from me to suggest we team up,” you start.

Angel Dust cuts you off with a sardonic snort. “What makes you think I need –want—your help?”

“You won’t make it through there alone. They’ve basically got an army guarding that place. You’re strong, but you’re not bulletproof. Or, worse, you’ll wind up captured. Besides, I have backup.”

She raises an incredulous eyebrow. “What, the X-Men? Pass.”

“No,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “The schedule master didn’t want to get off his ass, so I’m working without them for this.”

“Sounds like you don’t have backup, then.”

You bite down on the urge to sneer at her. “I have more resources than the X-Men.” Asshole.

“Such as?”

“Such as the kind that don’t mind using real guns.” When Angel Dust’s eyebrows spike towards her hairline, you continue. “Look, I get my husband and my other people out, you get your daughter out, everyone goes home happy and hopefully we never have to speak to each other again. Deal?”

“Fine,” she says after a minute. “So, if we’re not breaking in right now, what’s next?”

“I’ve got some people looking into this place. They should have some proper information by now. We head back to my place, learn what we can, then make plans to bust into here later tonight.”

Angel Dust considers for a moment, then concedes with a nod. “Fine. Wait… how’d you get out here?”

You shrug. “Flew.”

She scoffs, rolls her eyes. “Of course. We’ll take my car back.”

***

You text Yukio once you’re safely in Angel Dust’s car—

“Do you have a name?”

“Fuck kind of question is that?”

“I only know you as Angel Dust,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “So, unless you want me to refer to you as ‘Angel Dust’ all the time, having a name to use would be handy.”

She sighs heavily. Rolls her eyes. “Christina.”

You blink. You’re not sure what you’d been expecting, honestly. “Cool. I’m Y/N.”

“Great. Glad we’re fucking best friends now,” Christina grumbles under her breath as she starts her car and pulls away from the thicket of bushes she’d parked her car behind.

You text Yukio, letting her know that you’re on your way back, that you’ve picked up some help, and that if you aren’t back in three hours to call your uncle. You pocket your phone once Yukio replies, then steal a quick glance at Christina.

All in all, you don’t know much about her. You heard about her and her whole involvement with Ajax –Francis, whatever—from Wade, and you’ve heard a little bit from Piotr about her other criminal escapades –car-jacking, fighting rings, blackmailing—but beyond that, Angel Dust –Christina—is a complete mystery to you.

“How’d your daughter wind up in there?” you ask, breaking the thick silence that had settled around the two of you.

Her jaw clenches tighter, and her hands grip the steering wheel hard enough that –for a moment—you’re worried that she might break it. “My ex.”

“You had a kid with Francis?”

Her hands grip the wheel tighter. “No. I was married before I met Ajax. Long time before. Had Maddie. Got divorced. Met Ajax a little while later.”

“Riveting,” you snark, which gets a murderous glare shot your way. “So, what, your ex-husband decided to do a ‘take your daughter to work day’ and it ended poorly?”

“He doesn’t like mutants. Part of why we divorced.”

Pain strikes your chest as you put the pieces together. “Wait a second. He… he sent his own child to a testing facility?”

“Like I said,” Christina growls as she presses down harder on the gas pedal, “there’s a reason he’s my ex.”

***

Ellie goes from hunched over your laptop to standing bolt upright, fists clenched and energy swirling around her the second Christina follows you through the door—

And, yeah, okay, you definitely should’ve given more warning about the “help” that you were bringing back.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Ellie snaps.

Christina just smirks. “Good to see you again, short stack.”

“Ellie, please don’t obliterate my house,” you say quickly, stepping between Ellie and Christina before Ellie does something rash –albeit probably deserved. “She’s helping us.”

“Why is she—” Ellie jerks her chin towards Christina “—helping us? She’s a criminal!”

“She has someone that was captured, too,” you explain, doing your best to stay calm. “The more innocent lives we can save in all of this, the better.”

“Fucking Christ,” Christina grumbles under her breath. “It’s like the fucking boyscouts.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the Icebox?” Ellie snaps, still glaring down Christina –albeit without the energy charge-up, which you’re grateful for.

“I wasn’t deemed ‘dangerous enough’ for ‘removal from society.’”

“You kidnapped an innocent woman and nearly killed Colossus!”

She shrugs, blasé. “Paycheck’s a paycheck.”

“You fucking bitch—”

“Okay!” You shove Ellie back, and give her the sternest look you can muster at the moment –which, in reality, probably looks more desperate than anything else. “I know you’re mad, but we have a job to do. Can you…” You sigh when Ellie raises an eyebrow at you in challenge, and your expression is definitely desperate now. “Please, Ellie-bell. We need to get Piotr and Wade and Nate and Neena and anyone else they might have locked up out of there. Please.”

Ellie sighs heavily, but relents with a nod. “Fine. But if she—” she points at Christina, who smirks “—does anything out of line, I’m blasting her through a wall.”

“I’d comment, but I know you’re more than capable,” Christina mutters as she sizes up Yukio and Russell. “Also, if this was the back up you’re talking about—”

“It’s part of it, but they’re strictly the research team,” you interject quickly. “We’re bringing someone else along for the actual rescue mission.”

“Who?” Russell asks.

You shoot him a warning, incredibly desperate look to ‘please, for the love of Cthulhu, shut it’ because you haven’t actually figured that part out yet—

And then Yukio comes to your rescue. “Your uncle called while you were gone. He said he wanted you to call him as soon as you were back.”

“He also gave us a lot of information about the warehouse,” Russell adds, having caught on to your ‘please help me bullshit my through this.’ “Covered by ten different teams of armed men that work on five different shifts—”

You glance over your shoulder at Christina. “You mind looking through what we already have while I make the call?”

She sighs, rolls her eyes, but ultimately sits down at the dining room table. “Fine.”

You take your phone from Yukio, then step into the living room so you can talk to your uncle while also keeping an eye on Christina.

He answers on the first ring. “Who am I talking to this time?”

“It’s me. I’m safe.”

“Punk.” Your uncle lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, I told Ellie everything I could fine, but listen to me. You cannot try to crack this place open, okay? The person running this operation is far too dangerous to mess with. I’m sending some people in to help, and I’ll fly in as soon as I can; just let the professionals handle this, okay?”

You grimace. “I can’t do that.”

“Okay, look, I know you’re worried about Piotr—”

“There’s a kid involved,” you say quietly, watching Christina intently. “A little girl. She was dumped at the holding center. I… I can’t wait. Not with a child’s safety on the line.”

Your uncle swears, then sighs. “…Okay. Just… take some heavier ammunition with you. Please. I’ll get there as fast as I can to help back you up.”

“Alright. I can do that.” You make a quick good-bye, then head back into the dining room. “Alright, what are we looking at?”

“Nothing good,” Christina says heavily. “You were right about not being able to break into this place. We’ll need an army to do just that.”

“…I might just be able to get us one.”

***

The new offices of Nelson, Murdock, and Page come with countless new amenities –one of which being that it’s not located inside a deli.

There’s also a dedicated “back entrance” for clients that don’t want to be –or shouldn’t be—seen by the public.

Which, as fortune would have it, is where you find Frank Castle.

He’s wearing all black, carrying a bouquet of violets, and looks extremely startled when you all but shout his name. “What the fuck?”

“I need your help,” you say by way of greeting as you jog over to him. “Kidnappers, mutant experimentation, guys with lots of guns… yeah.”

“What the—” Christina yanks you aside with more strength than strictly necessarily, eyes so big they look like they’re about to pop out of her sockets. “How do you know the fucking Punisher?”

“Will you let go?” You wrench your arm out of her grasp. “I’m getting us an army. Chill the fuck out!”

“Do I get to know what’s going on here?” Frank interjects, looking equal parts confused, startled, and annoyed.

“There’s a warehouse two and a half hours from here,” you explain. “Heavily guarded. Piotr was kidnapped and taken there, as was her daughter.” You nod to Christina. “Wade, Nathan, and Neena are missing, too, and I’m willing to bet they’re there as well –along with who knows how many other people. The X-Men aren’t getting off their ass for this one, and the two of us—” you gesture between you and Christina “—aren’t enough to break in and get everyone out. We need help.” You take a breath, then shoot Frank a desperate look and add, “Please.”

He exhales heavily, then nods before gesturing at the door with the flowers. “Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

***

Karen, fortunately, gives her blessing for you to borrow her boyfriend for a potential suicide mission without too much fuss. Frank steps back into the alley a few minutes later, grabs a few duffels from his “murder van,” then directs you to where he keeps the rest of his weapons stash before you drive him and Christina back to your home.

From there, two things happen right away.

One: Frank is immediately able to make more sense of the information your uncle had sent, which makes developing a plan so much easier.

Two: Russell, Ellie, and Yukio all refuse to stay behind while you, Frank, and Christina head to the warehouse.

“For the last time,” you grit out, on the verge of ripping out your hair. “I cannot take you three with me. You’re all trainees! You’re not cleared for something like this. Besides, if Piotr doesn’t kill me, Scott definitely will!”

“You could take Scott in a fight,” Yukio says with an earnest nod.

“That’s not the point!”

“The point is we want to help.” Russell crosses his arms over his chest. “Wade’s my friend and guardian, Colossus is one of our teachers, and Cable and Domino are part of the X-Force. They’re our friends. Why shouldn’t we help?”

“I really don’t know how to explain to you that you’re a minor.”

“Yukio and I aren’t,” Ellie pipes up, voice deadly calm. “We’re both adults. We can do whatever we want with this. And I have a license and access to a car.”

“Ellie—”

“Look, either we’re in on the plan and how to handle all of this, or we drive up on our own and insert ourselves into the situation.” She raises an eyebrow at you when you start sputtering. “What? What are you going to do? Duct tape us to the walls so we can’t leave?”

You narrow your eyes at her. “I’m seriously tempted to. There is such a thing as ‘being in over you head,’ and –make no mistake—this is one of those situations.”

Ellie’s jaw tenses. “We’re not staying behind.”

“For what it’s worth,” Frank interjects from where he’s been sitting at your dining room table, pouring over all the data your uncle was able to collect, “if they can help us, we could definitely use their help. We’re pretty damn outnumbered.”

“See!” Russell chimes in. “You need us!”

“That’s not the point!” you snap, nerves finally fraying enough to let your stress show through.

“It’s exactly the point!” Ellie argues. “You need extra help, we want to help!”

“That’s not the point Y/N is trying to make,” Yukio says when you grip your hair in frustration. “It may be the point of the mission, but it’s not what she’s focused on.”

You exhale heavily as silence finally falls, then lean wearily against the dining room table. “It’s not that we don’t need your help. We do. But… you’re just kids.”

“Yukio and I are eighteen,” Ellie points out.

“You are an infant and you will accept it!” you fire back. “This… this isn’t fighting Magneto or a few punk frat boys who just realized they have superpowers. These are trained assassins with guns and who knows what else and… you guys still deserve to be young. You deserve more time before you have to face that.”

The space goes suffocatingly silent as your words hang in the air, bitter and desperate.

Because, really, you all already know what’s going to happen.

“We’re ready,” Yukio says, quiet but confident. She squares her shoulders and gives you a smile. “This is what we’ve trained to do.”

“You already know what my stance is,” Ellie says when you look over to her.

Russell seems a little more pensive when you check with him, but he doesn’t waver, either. He swallows hard, then nods. “I want to help Wade. He’s my guardian… my friend.”

You sigh, heavy and with finality, then plop down into the nearest chair. “Alright. Let’s make a plan.”

***

The plan is simple enough.

Your uncle had managed to dig up a plethora of information –including the policy for dealing with “captured individuals.” Anyone caught snooping around the warehouse was taken, searched for weapons, then taken to a room that was labelled “primary containment area.”

You’re willing to bet that Piotr and everyone will be there as well.

So, you and Christina will pose as a couple of amateur activists, attempting to get some film of what seemed to be a “secret military base” that was undoubtedly propagating violence, war culture, etcetera. You two will get yourselves captured, get inside the base, ditch whoever brought you in, find your missing people, then get out.

And, just for good measure, while the two of you were inside, Frank, Russell, Ellie, and Yukio will create a distraction outside, thus increasing your odds of success.

Frank also had one of his friends –who was some type of tech wizard, apparently—hack into the base and put the cameras on a loop, so that the two of you wouldn’t be caught out right away.

Is it the most sophisticated plan? No.

Is it the most likely to succeed, considering the circumstances? Also no.

Is it the best you all could do, considering the time and personnel constraints? Yes.

“If we die,” Christina growls –she’d been none too fond of the plan, but hadn’t had a better counteroffer—as the two of you cut through the woods, “I’m killing you before these dipshits get a chance.”

“Good fucking luck with that,” you grumble back, pulling a camera –which had a busted release mechanism for the SD card and was therefore useless—out of your bag. “Ready?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The two of you skulk around the perimeter, pretending to take film of the place –which, granted, you are, but it’s not like you’re planning on using any of it—and talking in stage whispers about angles, lighting, and framing. When that doesn’t work, you move in closer to the entry –where the guards are stationed—and start taking photos with the flash on.

It gets their attention pretty quick.

“Hey! Stop!”

The two of you feign making a run for it as the armed guards rush towards you, then switch to fake pleas and promise to “give up the footage” in exchange for being let go when you’re caught.

“Look, this is just for a school project,” Christina babbles –and, you have to give her credit, she’s a good actress.

Though, that could just be the guns the guards are carrying providing a proper incentive.

“We’ll give you the camera,” you add, faking desperation. “Just, like, please let us go.”

“Take them inside,” one of the older looking guards says. “Search them, then take them to the main containment center.”

You and Christina pretend to resist and struggle, but ultimately let the men march you past the wall and towards the compound.

***

The search goes well enough. The two of you had made a point to not carry any weapons –or any IDs, just in case. Your phones –fakes—are tossed, as is the camera, but other than that the guards don’t find anything particularly interesting.

Being taken to the main containment area, however, doesn’t go as well.

Mostly because your people aren’t there.

“Shit,” Christina swears when you’re marched into what’s essentially a windowless, metal box.

“Search the base?” you ask.

“We have to.”

You slam the guards against the nearest wall with a gust of wind, knocking them out.

The two of you quickly handcuff the guards with their hands behind their backs, careful to interlock the sets of cuffs to make it harder for them to move or escape once they come to.

You strip off one of their tac vest and quickly adjust it to your body, while Christina pulls out their phones and walkie talkies and crushes them. “I’m guessing neither of them are carrying a map?”

“Wouldn’t that be our lucky day.”

You pull out an ear piece that you’d hidden in your bra, then turn it on and tuck it in your ear. “Ellie, can you hear me?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Slight problem. Containment area’s empty. Is there a lab or something labelled on the blueprints my uncle sent us?”

“…Yeah. Left from the entrance to the containment room, take a right at the second doorway, then all the way down the hall to the back. Do you need us to go now?”

You eye the hallway outside the containment room, then grimace when you see several guards patrolling the space. “Yeah. We’re pretty boxed in otherwise.”

“Alright. Give us five minutes.”

The two of you wait –then, sure enough, the building shudders as a loud explosion echoes outside.

You flash Christina a somewhat manic grin. “Shall we?”

“You’re just as crazy as Wilson.”

“You’re not the first person to say that.”

***

The lab is straight out of some cheesy action-flick style evil lair. There’s a massive –practically floor to ceiling—screen that looks like someone lifted it from a movie theatre that’s framed by a wall to wall bank of computer keys, buttons, smaller inset display screens, dials, and sliders. The center of the room boasts a particularly sinister tilted metal table with arm and ankle restraints on the sides, an operation room light at the top, and various trays of syringes, surgical equipment, and other tools. Towards the back, there’s several rows of tables with various beakers, test tubes, and other items straight out of chemistry textbook.

And, on the wall opposite the door, there are a series of cylindrical, glass holding containers –which are currently housing your husband, Nate, Wade, Neena, and a young, dark haired girl that must be Madeline.

Madeline and Piotr don’t look too much worse for wear. A little bruised and a little tired, perhaps, but otherwise unharmed.

Neena’s face is fixed in a tight grimace. You don’t see any visible signs of harm on her, but that doesn’t mean that she’s okay.

Wade looks sick. He has a repression collar on, just like everyone else in the holding tanks, so there’s no doubt that his cancer is giving him hell.

Nathan looks tense. He’s sat on the floor of his tank, leaned back against the glass, gaze fixed in a pensive thousand mile stare. There’s no visible signs of the virus having spread, but you know he can’t be feeling too comfortable, either.

Madeline visibly perks up when you and Christina enter the lab, then jumps to the feet and presses her tiny body against the glass of her tank. “Mommy!”

“Mom—oh fuck.” Wade glares at Christina. “What is she doing here? And since when did you have a kid with Francis?”

Christina, predictably, ignores Wade. She sprints over to her daughter’s containment tube, pressing her hands flat against the glass. “Hey, sweetie. Are you okay?”

Madeline’s face crumples, and she starts crying. “I want to go home, Mommy. I want to go home—”

“Don’t!” Neena exclaimed when Christina moved to rip off the door on her daughter’s containment cell. “The guy running the tests said there was a different lock on her door.” She pointed to the keypad on the side of Madeline’s containment tube. “He said that if the cell was tampered with, it’d release a toxin gas.”

Christina shot a desperate look at you over her shoulder. “Can you diffuse the gas?”

“I don’t want to risk it,” you said. “Look, Ellie can probably figure out to get it open safely, and if she can’t, we’ve got other people who definitely can. Bottom line, she’s not staying in there for long.”

Piotr shoot you a sharp look. “Why is NTW here?”

You flounder, before shrugging sheepishly. “I got out-voted?”

“It’s going to be okay, sweet girl.” Christina knelt in front of her daughter’s tube, smiling reassuringly. “We’re going to get you out, okay?”

“Can you get the doors off the other cells?” you ask upon checking to make sure that the same locking mechanisms aren’t on the other containment tubes. “If we get everyone else out, I can get the repression collars off, and then we can shut this thing down and focus on getting Maddie out.”

Christina shoots you a look –most likely annoyed by being taken away from her daughter—but rises and walks down the row of cells, ripping the doors off as she goes and chucking them out of the way.

You help Wade out of his cell and get him situated on a chair—

And then Piotr sweeps you into his arms and presses his lips against yours.

He smells a little ripe, his breath isn’t much better, he has a few days’ worth of stubble on his face, and his hair is a mess.

He’s perfect.

“Are you okay?” you murmur, cupping his face when the kiss ends.

“I am now.” He kisses your forehead. “How did you find me?”

“Went over Scott’s head, used the tracker on your suit, and asked my uncle for help.” You lay your head against his chest, and close your eyes for a moment as you listen to the steady thud of his heartbeat.

He’s safe. He’s alive.

***

Getting the collars off is a cinch. They’re basic model collars with keypads. You’ve taken shit like this apart in your sleep.

The building rumbles ominously while you work on defusing the collars, and the sounds of gunfire and death are rapidly approaching the lab.

Piotr eyes the door warily. “What all is going on?”

“Uh… kinda asked Frank for some help.”

Your husband’s eyes damn near bug out of his head. “Frank Castle?”

“Ooh, Frankie’s here!” Wade chirps, perking up now that his collar’s off and his healing factor is kicking back in. “Did he bring any grenades?”

“Why did you ask Frank Castle for help?” Piotr interjects, sounding aghast.

“What else was I going to do?” you exclaim. “Scott literally wouldn’t get off his ass to check in on things. It was either do it alone, or get what help I could!”

Piotr looks like he’s about to drop it –then his eyes widen with horror. “You… you left trainees with him.”

Fucking shit on an ass cracker— “Look, I will be very happy to discuss this with you later, but for now can we just focus on—”

A door at the far end of the lab sweeps open –not the one you and Christina came in through—and a man wearing a lab coat walks in.

A man that, though it takes you a moment, you recognize.

Mostly because you slammed his head into a table and threatened to rip off his balls if he ever hurt your husband again.

Rage floods your system. “You!”

Dwight Bard –stupid fucking nickname “Rogue”—jerks when he sees all of you, then pales when recognition hits his system. “Oh shit—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish his sentence, much less escape or do anything else. You hit him in the back with a blast of wind, bouncing him across the floor of the lab and smacking him against the metal table. You dash over, secure one of his arms in one of the restraints before he can get up, then grab the first thing you find on the tool tray –which happens to be a scalpel—and aim it at him. “I fucking warned you, you son of a bitch. I’m gonna gut you like a fucking catfish—”

“Myshka!” Piotr plucks you up and sets you away from the table before physically putting himself between you and Dwight. “Stop!”

You take one look at your husband’s horrified expression and shrink in on yourself, ashamed. “I’m not—” You try to gesture with your hand, forgetting that you have the scalpel, and nearly nick Piotr with it. You flounder as you try to find a place to set the utensil, then ultimately hand it over to Piotr so he can set back on the instrument tray. “He’s—”

“No killing,” Piotr says, voice soft but firm. “Ever. Under any circumstances.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find the words to explain your headspace.

That Dwight isn’t worth saving because he’s perverted and hasn’t stopped the track he’s on despite having the chance to change and more than enough incentive –can anyone say ‘staying out of prison,’ much—to do so. That killing people recklessly and without thought is bad, but that defending those who can’t defend themselves is another category. That you weren’t even intending to really do anything, but he helped hurt the people you love, that he’s hurt your husband –the most important person in your life—over and over and over again, and you can’t live in a world knowing that person is out there and could hurt him again.

Ultimately, you shrug helplessly and say, “He hurt you.”

An emotion settles on Piotr’s face that you can’t identify. (Grief? Anguish? Fear? A combination of all three, or maybe none of them at all?) He stares at you for a moment, expression inscrutable, then gently takes you into his arms and kisses the top of your head. “I do not want you killing for me.”

You nestle against his chest –then break away when Dwight starts trying to get the restraint off his wrist. “Oh, no, no, no. Just because I’m not force-feeding you your balls doesn’t mean you get a free pass.” You finish restraining his arms and legs, then flip the overhead light on so he has to keep his eyes closed for good measure. “You can just stay right there until we’re ready to drag you out of here and back to jail.”

The door that you and Christina originally entered through opens, and Ellie, Russell, Yukio, and Frank walk through.

You nod at Madeline’s containment cell. “There’s a special lock on this one. Can you get it open?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ellie says, checking over the locking mechanism before walking over to the bank of computers.

“Building’s clear,” Frank says, momentarily eyeing Dwight before turning his attention to Madeline and Christina. “What’s going on there?”

“Special lock,” you explain, paraphrasing what Neena told you. “Improperly opening the chamber releases a neurotoxin gas.”

Frank’s lip curls into a menacing sneer as he stalks towards Dwight. “You think that’s fun? Putting a little girl’s life in the balance?”

“It wasn’t me!” Dwight panics, trying –and failing—to edge himself away from Frank. “I’m just –look, I’m just a scientist, I had no idea—”

“You’ve got a kid a tube!” Frank shouts. “It doesn’t get more fucking obvious!”

“Okay, okay, just –look. The building’s not clear yet.”

“The hell it isn’t—”

“They had teams on standby, down the road, in case the place was stormed.”

The lights flicker, then turn off before flipping back on—

And then an explosion goes off outside, making the building shake and the windows rattle in their settings.

Frank tenses, then swears under his breath when more explosions sound outside. “Shit.”

“Sounds like we’ve got company,” Wade comments as he stretches lazily (the movement is accompanied by a grimace, though, which is how you know he’s still not feeling good). “Got a gun I can borrow?”

“Best move right now is to handle the team outside,” Nathan agrees as Frank hands them both spare pistols. “You three stay back here.” He nods to the teens. “Get the kid out. The rest of us will hold the base.”

Madeline bursts into tears when Christina takes a reluctant step away from her daughter’s containment cell. “Mommy, I want you to stay! I’m scared!”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Christina reassures her quickly. “It’s okay—”

“Stay with her,” you decide. “We don’t have enough weapons for you to use, which means your strength won’t be an advantage out there.”

Christina mouths a grateful “thank you” at you, then sits at the base of her daughter’s cell. “It’s going to be okay, Maddie. Mommy’s right here.”

“What about Neena?” Russell asks as the rest of you prepare to head out. “She doesn’t have a gun.”

“I’ve got a good feeling about finding one,” Neena quips, flashing Russell a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

You want to take her aside, ask her if she’s okay –the explosions are still ongoing, meaning that right now, you’ve got more important things to do.

Frank reloads his rifle, then strides towards the main lab door. “Let’s go.”

***

The lot of you make swift progress through the base. Frank and Nate lead you all with military-like precision –go figure—and before you know it, you’re at the main entrance.

The explosions are still going, rocking and rattling the building with each shockwave. The lights flicker ominously overhead each time; a few fall out and shatter against the floor.

Piotr shields you with his body when one lands near the two of you. “What now?”

“You know how many people are out there?” Frank asks Nathan.

Your dad shakes his head. “The number of psychic signatures keeps changing. Maybe… twenty-five? Thirty? They keep bouncing around the lot.”

“We’ve handled worse,” Neena decides as she loads her shotgun (which, true to form, she’d stumbled across while you’d all navigated the base).

“Wait, wait –Natey, hold on a second.” Wade grabs his boyfriend’s arm, holding Nathan back from moving (even though Nate stopped the first time Wade asked him to wait). “Do you not hear what I’m not hearing?”

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank grumbles under his breath.

Nathan cocks his head to the side though, gaze darting back and forth while he listens. “Gunfire. Voices.”

“Exactly!”

Frank’s expression sharpens as he catches the same lack of gunfire and people talking. “They could be trying to draw us out. We’ve got a chokepoint here.”

“Yeah, but why would they be bombing the parking lot they’re standing in?” Neena fires back.

“Should one of us go out?” Wade asks, looking between Frank, Nate, and Neena. “Scope things out?”

“If there are people waiting out there, we’ll get shot to pieces!” Neena exclaims.

“Okay, I can heal!” Wade fires back. “So, if you hear swearing and sounds of carnage—”

“No, no, we are not using you as a fucking guinea pig,” Nathan growls.

“Well, what would you recommend—”

“I’ll go,” Piotr interjects.

“What?” You blink rapidly as he kisses your forehead, then reach for him when he stands and steps away so he can armor up. “No! No—”

“It’s okay.” Your dad puts an arm around your shoulder, equal parts comforting and restraining. “He’ll be okay.”

Piotr ducks around the corner and strides towards the entrance –stooping over so he doesn’t bang his head on the ceiling. The sound of his heavy footsteps clank against the floor, barely audible over the explosions outside.

You listen to your husband’s step retreat away from you, scarcely daring to breathe. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay…

There’s a moment where the explosions stop, and the ensuing silence stretches out, unending and horrible—

“No one is out here.”

You let out a breath, nearly collapsing with relief when you hear Piotr’s voice—

And then what he said hits you.

Frank stalks out, rifle at the ready in case shit goes sideways. He’s quiet for a moment, then shouts out an “all clear.”

You shadow the others out, mindful that you don’t have a gun or near as much combat experience. You sidle up next to your husband, one hand clutching at the material of his X-Men suit.

The explosions, at least, were real. The lot looked scorched, pitted with craters and dotted with debris and chunks of concrete.

That’s where the legitimacy of Dwight’s claims seem to end, though. There’s no sign of any opposition, armed, dangerous, or otherwise.

“Was he wrong?” you ask as Frank, Wade, Nate, and Neena carefully scope out the lot. “Maybe… maybe there’s no back up.”

“There is car coming,” Piotr announces, quickly tucking you behind his back.

The others hop to, taking up different positions around the lot to set up the best spread of gunfire possible.

You peek around your husband’s side as much as you dare, trying to get a read on the situation.

A lone SUV rolls up to the gate of the compound. It doesn’t seem armored, much less like it could hold the amount of guys your dad was initially sensing in the lot…

The SUV parks just inside the gate, and then the driver’s door opens and Mikhail Rasputin steps out. He grins laconically at Piotr, and lifts a hand in greeting. “Poves'te desyat', mladshiy brat!”

Piotr gapes as his mother exits the front passenger side of the SUV, whilst Mikhail ambles around to the back of the car to open the trunk. “Matushka?”

She’s decked out in black tactical gear and combat boots, and looks ready to kill.

(Granted, Alexandra always looks ready to kill, but the expression is more literal than figurative this time around.)

She graces her son with a brief, greeting smile, but quickly steps into scanning the surrounding environment for potential threats. Alex eyes the craters in the lot with a critical eye, one brow arching as she takes it all in. “Big fight?”

“Not really,” Wade says with a shrug. “Lots of explosions, but when we got out here there was no one around.”

You frown, stepping out from behind Piotr. “What are you two doing here?”

“Sent by uncle,” Mikhail says, nodding at you with a smile that’s entirely too relaxed for the scope of the situation. “To help.”

“Well, I think we’ve got it under control,” Wade says, gesturing at the parking lot.

“For now,” Alex tacks on as she eyes the building. “Man running this place is highly dangerous. Sooner we leave, the better. Is this everyone?”

“There are others inside,” Piotr says, eyes widening with realization. “Ellie, and Yukio, and Russell, and—”

The ground shakes again, and then there’s an explosion that sends chunks of concrete wall flying from the back side of the compound.

You stare at the plume of fire and smoke that billows into the sky, heart sinking. Shit.

***

The lab, once you arrive, is in complete and utter chaos. Tables are strewn everywhere, glass equipment lies shattered on the floor, and a gaping hole gashes through one of the internal walls.

At the far end of the lab is Dwight –who, somehow, has managed to free himself and is grinning as he hovers above the ground. He extends his hand towards the opposite side of the room, flinging several heavy work tables that are deflected by Christina and Ellie.

“He’s a mutant!” Ellie shouts, pointing an accusing finger at Dwight before dodging more flying debris. “He has to be! He undid his restraints without even touching them!”

“Sorry for the deception,” Dwight says, grinning nastily—

And then his body ripples, changing size and form until he’s several inches taller and nowhere near as gangly. His face morphs hideously, hair going from tight auburn curls to slicked back black tresses. His eyes change from hazel to gray, his jawline sharpens, and by the end of it he looks less like some sort of computer tech pervert and more like a rugged assassin.

“Someone fucking promise me we’re not about to go down another ‘it was Mystique the whole time’ writing hole,” Wade groans as he skids to a stop, then ducks to avoid shards of flying glass. “Because I can’t handle another plot headache like that.”

“Name’s Nathaniel. Nathaniel Essex.” Nathaniel tosses Dwight’s glasses aside, smirking laconically. “So, no, no Mystique storyline here. Though, that might’ve been better for the rest of you.”

“How you figure, Captain Chameleon?” Wade fires back. “Don’t know if you forgot how to count, but there are…” Wade starts counting, then gets fed up with the process and settles for cocking his gun and aiming it at Nathaniel. “You’re fucking outnumbered, shit for brains! Best surrender now, and maybe I won’t fuck your ass with the business end of this gun!”

“You do, you’re buying me a new one, Wilson!” Frank snaps.

“Do you accept stolen?”

“The way I see it, my odds are just fine.” Nathaniel smirks, and several pieces of broken tables and twisted metal start floating around him. “Don’t worry. I’ll try to keep from hurting you too bad.” He hurls the objects across the lab—

Only for them to freeze halfway across.

Nathaniel’s face goes slack with shock. “What the—”

Alexandra steps out from behind Piotr, eyes glowing gold as she stares down Nathaniel. “Care to try again, tupitsa?”

Nathaniel grits his teeth and tries to fling more carnage across the lab, but to no avail. “Go fuck yourself, bitch.”

Alex raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Have it your way.”

And then the items floating in the air zip across the lab. Those that don’t bounce of the telekinetic shield Nathaniel erects around himself embed themselves in the opposing wall.

“We need to get Maddie out of here!” you shout. “Ellie, can’t you disarm the pod?”

“I couldn’t find anything that disables the gas system!”

You’re starting to think that the supposed “toxic gas” attached to Maddie’s containment tube was a lie as well –but, best not to take chances.

“We’ll figure it out once we take down Essex,” you shout before darting towards where Alex and Nathaniel are scuffling with each other.

Nathaniel lets out a pained grunt when Alex throws him against one of the walls hard enough to crack the concrete, then yanks his sleeves back and starts pressing buttons on a wrist-mounted console. He taps at the display screen between dodging various attacks—

And then security drones fly out from hatches in the ceiling and start raining down Gatling gunfire on all of you.

“Get down!” Frank bellows as he dives behind one of the upended, heavy, metal lab tables.

Neena, Mikhail, and Nate join him, opening fire at the various drones.

You dive tackle Yukio, practically throwing her and yourself underneath one of the computer desks. You tuck her underneath you, doing your best to shield her from flying glass shards and stray chunks of metal.

Wade grabs Russell and Ellie, yanking them into a nearby alcove and shoving them behind him so he can take shots at the drones. “Since when did this go from a redux of my first movie to a redux of Terminator? We don’t have that kind of budget!”

Madeline shrieks when some of the rounds fired by the drones bounce off her containment cell. She drops to the floor of the tube, curling into a ball and sobbing hysterically. “Mommy!”

“Maddie!” Christina wholesale throws an operation table at one of the drones, cleaving it in half, before sprinting across the lab to reach her daughter’s cell. “Maddie!”

The whole building shakes like it’s about to come down. You hold tighter onto Yukio, getting what glimpses you can of the battle from under your table.

Alex and Nathaniel are caught up in a fraught telekinetic tango. They’re both reaching out towards each other –Nathaniel with both hands, red-faced and straining, and Alex with one hand, expression grim but determined—and their stand off seems to be what’s ripping the lab apart.

What happens when there are two unstoppable forces and two immovable objects, and each person has one?

Mikhail pops out of nowhere, landing next to Nathaniel. He lets out a burst of maniacal laughter, hits Nathaniel upside the head with the butt of his rifle, then disappears again.

Nathaniel stumbles, dazed –and it’s enough. He shrieks as he whizzes past you, bouncing off the ground before slamming into the computer station near the main entrance to the lab.

The remaining windows in the lab shatter, along with the lights. Glass rains down on the floor in tiny shards. Smoke and dust billow from one of the destroyed computer terminals, mixing with the glass into a lethal fog.

Your husband grabs Christina before quickly shielding her, Frank, Neena, and Nathan from the worst of the falling glass.

At the lab’s entrance, Wade and a newly reappeared Mikhail shield Russell and Ellie with their bodies.

For a moment, everything goes quiet, save for Essex’s labored groaning, Maddie’s terrified sobbing, and the tinkling sound of the glass making contact with the floor.

And then, not unlike a phoenix, Alex emerges from a cloud of smoke, head held high and eyes glowing menacingly. “Still want to do this, podonok?”

Nathaniel bares his teeth in a snarl before pushing up the sleeve on his jacket, revealing a time travel device like Nathan’s. “Fuck you.” He slaps a button on the device, then winks out of view in a flash of green light.

Alex snorts disdainfully. “Coward.”

Everything goes silent again. Relief slowly starts to sink in, now that the worst of it is over.

And then there’s an ominous whirring noise, and Madeline’s tube starts sinking into the lab floor.

She panics, shrieking and pounding on the glass. “Mommy!”

Christina bolts towards her daughter, equally as terror-stricken. “Maddie!”

The tube sinks fully into the ground, locking into place with a sickening click.

Christina freezes for a moment, staring at the place where her daughter used to be. Then, she lets out an anguished shriek and makes to rip the containment tube out of the ground.

“Don’t!” you shout, batting her away from the tube with a blast of air. “The neurotoxin!”

“I have to save her!”

“She’s already gone,” Nathan says, voice ragged. “He had a teleportation device attached to her cell. It would’ve activated seconds after he left.”

“Fuck you!”

Alex steps between Christina and the cell, keeping her from yanking it back up. “Easy, easy. We will still find your daughter.”

Christina snarls, then punches Alex straight in the face.

She doesn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she raises an eyebrow at the aggrieved woman, then lifts her own fist. “My turn? Or are we done?”

Christina gapes up at Alex for a moment, shocked, then resumes her efforts to try and get to the tube. “Maddie –I have to save her—”

“She is not there,” Alex insists, grunting as she bodily lifts Christina away from the cell. “Our best bet is to find Nathaniel.”

“He could be anywhere!”

“He used a short-range teleporter,” Nathan pipes up. “He’ll be close by. The sooner we start tracking him, the better.”

“Well, that would be our cue,” Alex says, firmly ushering Christina towards the door. “Let’s head back to house. We can plan from there.”

“What about this place?” Yukio asks as she follows after Alex.

“We burn it.”

“We –we can’t do that,” Piotr protests, staring at his mother’s back. “Criminals need to be held responsible for—”

“And, what, we just leave evidence of our involvement? Of your connections to criminal underworld?” Alex snaps, whirling to face her son. “Nyet! We destroy this place and keep ourselves in the clear.”

“And what about the people connected to this place. Without evidence, they will never be held accountable!”

“Justice has many forms, medvezhonok. They’ll get theirs.”

“Come on.” You tug on your husband’s hand when he frowns after his mother. “We need to go, either way. The cops aren’t gonna be able to help us with this, not the way we really need help.”

Piotr’s grimace deepens –but, he ultimately falls into step next to you.

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