#I should probably try to accomplish one more thing before I die

[oceanfloorfires]

Feels like a good time to have an autographed first-edition set of The Bartimaeus Trilogy 😊

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 3

As the reality of your situation sets in, you try your best to survive in the Underground... and find a way out. Little do you know though, someone else is trying to find you.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, more shenanigans, getting more into the meat and bones of this fic

Content Warnings; Swearing

Word Count; 3.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Do not put my work into AI - I will push you into the Bog of Eternal Stench

Your night for the most part was uneventful. The horrid screaming had thankfully went in the opposite direction, away from your tree-top abode. Although throughout the night, little crowds of glowing eyes had amassed at the bottom of the tree, but they made no attempts to reach you. Even though they couldn’t reach you, you couldn’t help but feel unnerved, since all you could see was their eyeshine, and hear them chittering to each other.

Great, they’re probably pointing and laughing at the new fool in town. ‘Oh, look, Jim, a new plaything! Don’t they look stupid hanging in a tree like that? Fufufu.’ But you kept quiet, and just watched them, as much as they did you, making sure they didn’t try any funny business.

They didn’t stay for long though, either leaving due to their curiosity being quenched, or from how boring you were trying to be; silent, and watching, not moving. If worse came to worse, you would have started chucking rowan berries at them; if fae don’t like the tree, they probably wouldn’t like the berries either.

Eventually, the dark night dissolved into the dim glow of dawn, and once you could actually make out your surroundings and it wasn’t just one large mass of darkness, you started making your way down the tree. You were a bit proud of yourself, seeing that you had 1) survived the night, and 2) not fallen out of the tr—

Snap! … you celebrated too soon, since the branch you were using as a foothold gave way, and you tumbled your way to the ground. At least the fall wasn’t too high up, but it still stung like a bitch, and you’d definitely have a bruise; both to your body and your ego.

At least there was no one around to see you eat dirt.

Sighing, you rubbed your eyes, and smacked your cheeks; fighting off sleepiness. Focus; you need to get home. Read the damn book Mr. Sparkles gave you… damn prick is probably gonna call in a favour later…

With a still sore butt, you found a mossy rock that looked somewhat comfortable and sat down, opening up your ‘How Not to Die in Fairyland; For Dummies!’ book (not really the name of it, but it was damn close).

“Chapter nine; how to leave the Underground,” you muttered, flipping to the page. Weird, it’s only one page? 

“While leaving the Underground is possible, it is a task that not many have accomplished. 

Of the possible ways include;

Finding a portal; typically an enchanted faerie ring, or royal portal.

Finding a fae and tricking them into owing you a favour

One should leave the Underground before their thirteenth day. Should you stay beyond thirteen days you will not be able to leave the Underground, and will be a permanent resident.”

You shut the book, taking in a deep breath. What has it been, ten hours? It was hard to tell, the blurring of time. But at least you had a rough time of twelve days to find a portal — or have a fae owe you a favour — and get the hell back home. If worse came to worse, you were not above some benign trickery so you could see your idiots again.

…

…

Lilia had arrived home safe and sound, slept in his warm bed, and had some of his … delightful home cooking before he was due back at the castle. And while he was eating the somehow overcooked yet still raw eggs, he couldn’t help but wonder how the little Beastie was doing; how you were doing.

He didn’t technically owe you any favours, since he had given you that handy dandy book — if anything, you owed him, since you did say ‘thanks’ and everything — but curiosity is a fickle thing, and you seemed interesting. Humans typically reacted more when they ended up here, and made no proper moves to ensure that they made it back. But you, the little Beastie? Lilia saw a fire in your eyes, of both ire and determination. You wouldn’t give up easily, and while it was entertaining, he also knew that trouble could, and most likely would, follow wherever you go.

Last time a human like you ended up in the Underground… it didn’t end well (said human nearly burnt the Queen’s labyrinth down to the ground). Hopefully though, you didn’t prove to be as foolish, or as obsessed with fire as the last human. Who knows, maybe you would even escape! If you didn’t though, the court could use a new fool, and you seemed amusing enough to please their majesties whilst not incenting their ire.

“Hmm, wonder if their majesties have felt the intrusion,” Lilia hummed to himself, cleaning up his dishes. He could easily just magic it away, but the trip to the mortal realm had taken a lot out of him, so he was stuck doing some good old fashioned manual labour, not that he really minded. Doing the dishes was better than being digested by some mangy, overweight, cat.

A crack of lightning sounded outside, disrupting the otherwise beautiful and peaceful day. “That answers that question!” Lilia sounded too cheerful for what many fae considered to be a bad omen, as lightning rarely meant a good thing when it concerned the royal family.

A raven came to rest on the windowsill, eyes glowing green; a messenger.

Lilia tapped its beak, letting the message play.

“General Vanrouge, I require you to apprehend the trespasser on our land, lest they taint the soil,” the raven recited Queen Maleficia’s message. “Shall you deem it necessary to use drastic measures, so be it… To call this number back, place a coin into the raven’s mouth. To save this call—”

Lilia groaned, but coughed up a bronze coin so that the Queen didn’t send more ravens to his house on his day off. “Our guest shall be dealt with swiftly, I assure you of that.” Lilia ended his call, the raven blinked, coughed out the coin, and flew off in a ruckus of cawing.

He sighed, and cracked his back. “Hopefully our guest can understand… and not hit me with a broom this time.” With a snap of his fingers, Lilia poofed into his trademark green sparkles, and he was a bat again. Instead of being lost in the mortal realm though, he was off to find you, who was most likely lost in the Underground… hopefully you didn’t get eaten or fell into the bog again, since he doubted the Queen would want a dead(?) or putrid smelling guest.

“Beastie, Beastie, Beastie, wherever could you be?”

…

…

“Where the hell am I,” you wheezed. You had been walking for a good bit, since hey, the bog really smelled bad, plus you didn’t want to stick around long enough where the creature that was screaming last night decided to come back and make an appetizer out of you. So, you were walking. Where to? You had no idea, all you knew was that you needed to find a portal somehow, of the mushroom variety, or royally produced.

Currently, you were fighting gravity and making your way up a steep hill, but you knew you would be able to see over the dense forest canopy once you reached the top, and maybe, just maybe, you would be able to make sense of your bearings. Would you know where you were once you reached the top? Pfttt, no, but at least you would know what exactly was around. A sulfuric rotten egg-smelling swamp was one thing, but you wouldn’t be all too surprised if you found out there was a man-eating daisy patch or some other nonsense here.

Finally, you made it to the top of the hill, and you caught your breath before looking out towards the horizon. To the north, the sea of trees continued for what seemed forever. East, the trees made their way into a grassy plateau where there seemed to be a village of some sort in the distance; quaint. South, uh, the swamp, definitely not going back that direction, you’ve had enough of that swamp. And west, a castle, surrounded by a maze.

“An enchanted faerie ring or royal portal,” you muttered, weighing your options.

You had about twelve days left to get out of this place. You could spend those twelve days trying to find a so-called ‘faerie ring’ in the forest since those things were mushroom circles, but the chances of finding an enchanted one seemed to be slim to none. On the other hand, castles usually equaled royalty, which would equal portal. Knowing royals though, they were probably batshit insane. Also, if they felt like you were lying or trying to dupe them? Hey, they could apparently turn you into a slug or some other easily squishable being if they wanted to. And you really didn’t want to be turned into a slug… now at the moment at least.

“Forest,” you looked at the forest, “or castle?” You could also go east, but the grassland didn’t exactly scream portal potential or had any rowan trees (or any trees for that matter). “That is the question. Look for weird mushrooms and maybe get eaten by some critter, or potentially piss off some royal and end up as said critter. Hmmm.”

You groaned, and flopped down to the ground; both options weren’t all that appealing, or even guaranteed that you would find a portal. Rolling over to your stomach, you opened up the book again, seeing if it had anything that could help you make up your mind on the options in front of you.

Scanning over the table of contents, there was nothing about where to find a portal in the woods. There was, however, a handy dandy chapter on fae etiquette, including government specifications… 

You looked up towards the castle again, eyeing the maze. And started coughing out into laughter at your situation. “Pfttt, didn’t I wish that the Goblin King would whisk me away from my life,” you wheezed. “And here I am! In the fucking Underground with a labyrinth?!” Your laughing subsided into a tired sigh, and you set your eyes back towards the castle. “The irony is astounding really.”

At least you didn’t have to worry about some baby being turned into a goblin… right? 

No, no, you only wished for yourself to be taken away, no one else. But would that mean you would end up as a goblin? Fae? Or as some weird pet or servant to a fae? Hopefully not… and at least you had the somewhat credible book that Mr. Sparkles gave you. 

Shit, I owe him a favour though… CURSE YOU SARCASM!!!! 

Well, maybe Mr. Sparkles will cut you some slack, since ya know, you did save him from Grim… but you also did hit him with a broom… and insulted him… I am so fucked, aren’t I?

…

…

You eventually got to the entrance of the maze (the labyrinth?), and sat down on a bench outside of it, huffing and puffing. “Does everything want to–” you stopped that sentence, knowing your luck, if you said it out loud, it was bound to happen. “Never mind that…”

“Never mind what?” A voice said to your right.

You shot up and whipped your head around, coming face to face with a door(?) with a face. “I-”

“You never mind!” A second voice said, and on your left was another door, sending its counterpart a dirty look. “You know better than to meddle in such affairs!”

The right door, which was a weathered red, rolled its eyes at its neighbour. “Bah! Curiosity killed the cat-”

“But satisfaction brought it back. I know!” The left door, a brilliant blue, huffed. “Ignore them, they do this to everyone.” They sneered (if doors could sneer) to their neighbour. “Don’t you have anything better to do than trick people?”

Did I just get in between these two during something?

The red door got offended, turning even redder by some means. “Like you should be one to talk! ‘Oh my dear traveller, one of us two doors is a liar and does nothing but lie! Do not let my neighbour fool you!’ It’s the same every single time with you!”

It’s giving bitter divorced couple who for some reason still live with each other—

“I would do no such thing!”

“LIAR!”

“NO YOU ARE THE LIAR!”

You groaned, their bickering was starting to give you an all too familiar migraine. “Will both of you shut up?!”

Both of the doors tch-ed at your remark but stopped their nonsensical arguing, and you rubbed at your temple, easing away the building tension. But they turned their attention to you, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and something else… doors couldn’t be fae… right? The book didn’t say anything about talking doors… could they be portals? It couldn’t be that easy, nothing was ever that easy.

“Did anyone ever teach you any manners, mortal?” The red door huffed, turning its nose up at you. 

The blue door looked at you with a similar expression, “Yes yes, awfully rude you know! Lucky it's just us though, and not the mistress. Oh ho ho! She would turn you into a newt for that!”

I wasn’t too wrong about them turning me into a slug I guess… would a newt be an upgrade in this case? Since they have bones— 

“And you’re a door,” you deadpanned, “you both haven’t been polite either, ya know?” You had better things to do than kissass to two sentient doors, so no, you weren’t going to be polite. “So the sooner you tell me which way to go, the sooner I’m out of your… splinters?”

The doors grumbled but didn’t raise any objections.

“As you may have overheard, one of us is a liar,” they both said at once. “One of us will lead into the labyrinth, whereas the other will lead you back to where you started your journey.” They both chuckled, looking at you with amusement. “It is up to you to decide which is which.”

You looked between the two doors, weighing your options. “And what if I just walk into the labyrinth? What happens then?”

The blue door hummed, “Well, it would eat you!” … why did it sound all too cheerful about that?!

“So I don’t really have any other option then, do I?”

“Nope!~” They both gave you cheerful smiles, and you were half tempted to go off into the woods and find that magic portal by your lonesome. At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with a pair of divorced doors, and a human-eating labyrinth that belonged to some mistress that would turn you into a newt if she felt like you were being snippy with her.

You sighed. Of both the doors, the blue one seemed more sympathetic, whereas the red door was more harsh… “Okay, red, open sesame!”

The red door looked shocked that you picked it over its counterpart, but it opened nonetheless. The blue door grumbled that you had chosen its neighbour over it, but stayed quiet.

When the door opened, all you could see was black. 

“Do you actually lead anywhere?” You threw a rock in, but no sound came out. 

The red door was silent though; apparently, when it was open, it couldn’t talk. And while you didn’t miss the bickering, you really wanted answers, and the blue door wasn’t saying anything either. 

Sighing, you walked forward, hoping that you had chosen the right door. Once both of your feet were over the threshold, light started to filter in. Did I choose right?! But before you got too ahead of yourself, you felt the ground give way under you, and you were falling; falling towards an all too familiar sulfuric-smelling bog. 

“SHI-”

…

You were back in the bog of eternal stench, and spitting the rotten egg-tasting water out of your mouth again. And this time, Mr. Sparkles wasn’t here to make you magically smell better either. Nope, you were stuck smelling horrible until you could find a change of clothes.

Crawling out of the water, you grumbled and hissed curses towards that red door. Of course, you would end up here again! Why not! Laugh it up, Underground! Laugh it up!

“I hate it here,” you seethed, wringing out as much water as you could from your clothes. 

Shit, the book! But the book was still dry… Fuck you, book. Fuck. You. Of course, the book would stay free of wet and stench, whereas you were now shivering, since the water was frigid, plus you were angry and embarrassed that you had been deceived.

It was no use though just sticking around here lamenting and fuming. So you hoisted yourself up and marched back to the labyrinth; and even though the trip was a good three hours, your anger and pettiness drove you forward.

“YOU-” you hissed, pointing a finger at the red door.

The red door looked at you, looked to its blue neighbour, and then back at you before it started laughing. “I see someone took a little dip-”

You got up in its face, “Fuck you, asshole.” You turned around and marched up to the blue door. “Open up,” you cracked your knuckles, not breaking eye contact. And either your intimidation worked, or your smell was so offensive that the door just wanted you gone; weaponizing the stench works wonders against prissy doors.

“Th-” You remembered your first blunder; do not thank the fae. “You are too kind.” And you stepped through the blue door, which was as dark as the red one, but once the door closed, you didn’t find yourself back in the damned bog. You were now in the labyrinth, and perhaps a step closer to finding a way home.

…

…

…

Lilia found himself in the bog, looking around for the Beastie (you). But they were nowhere to be found, save for a wet spot on the grass and some torn-up moss.

“Ah,” he suppressed a laugh, “they fell in again, I see. Poor Beastie.” At least they’ll be easier to find.

He summoned a glass orb, a looking glass of sorts, and looked inside of it. “Show me the human,” he whispered, sprinkling it with some green magic. “And show me their location.”

The glass orb multiplied into three. The first orb showed a close-up of your face, an annoyed yet determined look on your face. The second orb showed that you were surrounded by hedges. And the third and final orb showed that the hedges were actually the Queen of the Underground’s personal labyrinth.

“… at least they can’t really run off anywhere.” But this wasn’t a great turn of events. Many people, both human and fae alike, had tried their best to navigate the labyrinth. But it was a fickle thing; you had thirteen hours to reach the castle, and if you didn’t within those thirteen hours? You would be stuck within it, as one of the beings that tried to stop trespassers from reaching the castle.

Lilia pinched the bridge of his nose, “Beastie, what have you gotten yourself into?” And he turned into a bat, flying off to try and find you. While the Queen did want you apprehended, Lilia would rather it be with his own hands, and not be held liable for any further actions or decisions you made.

...

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Tags; @afunkyfreshblog, @cheezy-moon, @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @lucid-stories, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

~~~~~~~

Author's Note; After a little break from writing this fic, I'm back! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, even if it was only for the pay-phone/raven and the divorced bickering doors!

If you liked this, do check out my masterlist for more content!

[koralinewrites]

I saw a post on your main account that you listened to DAYLIGHT! If you don't mind, could you let me know what you think of it?

OOH YES!

Okay so, just to preface this, I’ve ONLY ever listened to Laito’s audios, so his is all I’m gonna be talking about. Obviously there’s gonna be a few spoilers- I personally REALLY loved his tracks. I know there are people who don’t like it because of the storyline and such, but I don’t really care about all that. I loved it for two things. 1) It shows off Laito’s thought processes and what goes through his head and 2) Daisuke Hirakawa’s performance was amazing.

I LOVE angst. I love reading it, writing it, everything. And this has a lot of angst. I mean, the one person who he’s fallen in love with is dying, and there’s quite literally nothing he can do. I think Track 4 was the one that actually got me to cry at the end, when he’s having a mental breakdown. We get to learn more about how he views himself. He doesn’t think of himself as someone who should HAVE these feelings. He’s Laito Sakamaki: a vampire who lies and manipulates his way through life (basically a direct quote, btw). He doesn’t know what to do about these feelings. Lust and pleasure was all predictable, it was second nature. But when someone he genuinely cared for showed up? He had no idea. And then to pile onto these confusing feelings, that same person was going to die. And he couldn’t do a thing. His default was to get rid of the root of the problem, aka you.

This is where I got kinda confused , because a similar thing was happening in More Blood but he didn’t want to kill Yui because he loved her. The way I understood it was he’d rather be the one to kill you than to see you die slowly and painfully without him being able to do anything. Plus, if he was the one to try to kill you, you’d probably resent him and it’d make his life easier. You wouldn’t be nice to him anymore. It’d be something normal, predictable. Something he’s used to, because, let’s face it, he doesn’t know how to handle genuine compassion. But then you don’t. You don’t hate him for trying to murder you- in fact, you welcome it. And this confuses him. You’re not supposed to act like this, it just makes his job harder. Why aren’t you doing anything the way it’s supposed to be done? The way he’s used to. And so, he thinks it’s a problem with him. So he turns that knife on himself, and it takes you getting hurt for him to realize that getting rid of himself wouldn’t accomplish anything either.

Also, as I said before, Daisuke Hirakawa’s performance is AMAZING in this. I’m obsessed with, I can’t remember if it’s Track 3 or 4, but the scene where you’re in the school infirmary and have a coughing fit. He obviously freaks out and his voice deepens in worry. But then. When he leaves, he puts on that happy mask. His voice lightens, and it’s back to that higher-pitched sound it was originally. And that made me want to SMACK him. Like, sir- STOP. Stop hiding behind that mask, it’s obvious you’re worried. Come on.

When Laito’s thinking to himself, when he has that mental breakdown in Track 4, the way his voice shakes and deepens and how he yells and curses and punches a wall and just- AUGHHH. This man. He so obviously cares, but he doesn’t know what to do with all of these feelings he’s never had to deal with before. I just…. God.

Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted. If you can’t tell, I’ve had this rant in my head for a WHILE. He just makes me so ILL. Please, people, send in more Laito related asks, I have so many thoughts-

[thesharktanksdriver]

Kissing Booth but reader with hugs imagine the line of people marines and pirates alike , very silly goose 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Example : doflamingo cutting the line (or people)

some people *Cough*akainu, doffy , kaido *Cough* grabbing reader as they hug and running for the hills as literally every character in the vers runs after them

Whitebeard camping out a week before to be first in line (probably with the rest of the crew too)

Few people resufuse to let go (sengoku,buggy,black Maria, luffy)

Body guards zoro,sanji and robin.

Starts crying (boa hancock,brook, jinbei)

Stone faced but crying on the inside (mihawk,crocodile, katakuri)

Sorry I got way to into this😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨

Teehee

So uh, I might’ve gotten too into it too

Teehee

Mihawk Dracule

His appearance at the booth is as cryptic and abrupt just as his appearance of his boat on the sea is.

It’s abrupt.

Expected.

And to everyone but you (and maybe Zoro) it’s an unpleasant surprise.

One that should be bound for bloodshed yet creates a certain tinge of happiness as he closes the curtains behind him and sits down on the small chair facing you.

Yoru being leant against the chair.

A small and subtle sign that he feels at ease with you.

…or at least didn’t see you as a threat. (It was hard to tell with him)

“It’s good to see you again Mihawk, how has the traveling been?” You say this while leaning against your palm that rested on the stand.

Golden ringed eyes stare at you, for a moment you can distinguish a crinkle of affection.

“They’ve been monotonous as usual. Overzealous fools who think they can challenge me”

“An, so like zoro?”

He chuckles at that, distantly outside the tent you hear a distinct “Oi!” Before the sounds of Sanji kicking him. Their bickering fades into the background as Nami presumably silences dragged them away.

Mihawk leans over, and suddenly you're enveloped in his arms. It’s perhaps a bit unexpected, though with Mihawk things were always a gamble. You half anticipated for him to leave without a hug, but seeing that he hadn’t made you all the more happier.

Mihawk's hug feels secure and protective, as if he were a shield to the rest of the world and its hardships.

Hands that have seen endless fighting and held the hilt of blood a rusted sword hold you.

His hold is not gentle but it is perhaps the softest Mihawk could ever be.

And that’s ok.

Because in his hold it feels as if you're safe.

That he would take on the world to ensure that even when you’d left his arms you’d never have to worry.

And while that’s a far off dream, knowing Mihawk he’d try.

And that’s perhaps the most comforting thought bending it all.

Mihawk would try for you if you’d ask.

If you’d ask, you could have stayed at his abode.

If you’d asked he would do all that he could to ensure you’d never have to die and reappear again.

But he’d only do that if you’d ask.

He didn’t make that decision for you.

Didn’t decide that his judgment was better than yours and impede on your ability to make decisions.

He might have disagreed with some of your decisions but he respected you to make them.

And even more so, he respected you even if he was wrong.

He would never admit to it, but in those few moments you’d proven him wrong a certain pride shone in eagle eyes.

A certain uplift of the corner of his mouth.

“The humandrills miss you…I have a room open if you’d ever require it” it’s said quietly, like a secret exchanged beneath candlelight. It’s a valuable moment, it reminds you of that thing that zoro had said.

“A wound on the back is a swordsman’s shame”

Vulnerability was not something easily handed out by swordsmen, especially not one like Mihawk. A weakness, a so-called wound on his back or in this case his heart. It’s not something to be taken lightly. But luckily you know this well.

“I’d like that”

His mouth twitches, sloping upwards ever so slightly.

To him the hug you give is a moment where he can momentarily be at ease and feel as if he had a goal to accomplish.

Throughout aimless travel he tries to find his match yet all that come to him are disappointments. Battle after battle of people not being able to even land a single blow on him. It’s a constant that leaves him bitter and resigned as he’d toll away in his castle alone.

But with you in arms that carry the burden of being the best he finds himself with a mission that seems ever so slightly more achievable.

He could protect you as best he could.

Though that is an equally daunting task considering your penchant for death, it feels more feasible so long as you remain in his hold.

Small arms that are wrapped around his neck mean no harm.

He has no use in being on edge, not when you’d barely had the will to ever pick up a blade. Even when your life depended on it.

For a short moment the bloodthirsty marine hunter feels at ease.

You do not see him smile but you can feel the warmth he exudes when his hand cards through your hair.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Five

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him.

With the back of my hand I wipe sweat off my brow. Unfortunately, I was not placed on graffiti cleanup today. Instead, they're making me dig holes for new fence posts on the QZ border. FEDRA is trying to rebuild what the Fireflies blew up, and digging deep holes for hours on end only makes me more bitter towards the wannabe mercenary group. Manual labor paired with no sleep for the past two days is not working in my favor. I have to constantly fight to not pass out from overexertion. But, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered passing out to get out of work.

The hours pass by slowly, but surely. As soon as we get cleared to leave for the day I make a beeline for my apartment, wanting to at least get a shower before I start my activities for the night. I've got a list of things I need to accomplish, and I'm hoping to do so before curfew. However, with the luck I've been having lately, I'm not holding my breath about being back before curfew.

After I've showered and made myself presentable again, I leave my apartment and head towards area four. I'm counting on someone to have reported those poor girls in the alley today, there's just no way nobody found them. And I'm hoping my contact will have some good information for me. As an incentive for information, I brought along a few pills. Information like this is sure to come at a hefty price, and free narcotics usually does the trick.

I locate the familiar apartment and knock on the door. It's not unheard of for regular people to be in area four, but it is unusual. Thankfully, the soldier opens the door and lets me in quickly without asking questions. I stand in the doorway of the rickety apartment and nod to the man standing across from me.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is callous, but curious. We had just delivered to this guy last week and I know he isn't due for another round of pills until next week, so it is weird for me to be here right now. I clear my throat,

"I need information, and I'm hoping you can be of assistance." I start off. The man's eyes narrow,

"What kind of information?" His eyes briefly look me up and down, probably searching for obvious weapons. I move from the doorway to the man's living room, where my voice is less likely to be heard by bystanders.

"I know there have been bodies found. I need to know what FEDRA is doing to find the killer." My voice is stone cold and serious. On our drug runs, I try to stay friendly to the clients, so they keep quiet and keep coming back. But this is something else entirely. The man scratches the back of his neck and takes a few steps towards me.

"How do you know about that?" His voice is equally as cold. I look right into his eyes, trying to pierce his soul so he sees just how serious I am about this.

"I have my sources." I decide against confessing what I really know. He licks his lips and shakes his head,

"Noelle you know I can't tell you shit like this." He sounds frustrated, he has to know something. Otherwise he'd be asking for more elaboration.

"What if I gave you these?" I pull out the small bag of pills from my back pocket. The man's eyes grow wide as he sees them. His gaze flickers between me and the pills.

"What's the catch?" He asks and I shake my head innocently.

"No catch, just information." I say, hoping that the thought of free drugs is enticing enough to get what I need from him. He paces back and forth before he gives in.

"Fine. I'll tell you what I know." He says, eyeballing the pills. I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and motion for him to continue on.

"You'll get these after you fess up." I explain my terms more thoroughly to him. Thankfully, he starts talking without argument.

"Three bodies found, ages fourteen to seventeen. Two girls, one boy. All had the same marking on their forehead. All killed brutally. I heard from another guard today that they had concluded the girls had been sexually assaulted before they were killed. Same with the boy." He explains, and my blood boils at his words. It's bad enough these children were ruthlessly killed. But to have been defiled before? It's sickening and awakens a rage in me I've never felt before.

"List of suspects?" My voice is uncharacteristically dark and I take a few steps towards the soldier. He shakes his head,

"I don't have names, nobody has a name. But, I did hear something about a man, or some small group, staying out near the wharf in area five. I guess we've been having perimeter issues around there. It's no surprise, there are a few empty warehouses out there and nobody ever patrols them. My best guess, start there if you want to find who did this. As far as I know, all FEDRA is planning to do is to sweep the warehouses tomorrow and then call it if they don't find anything. They don't want people knowing about this, they're hoping it just stops. They're worried a riot will break out. We don't have the numbers to go investigating this, we still have our orders. My guess is that we're just going to blame the first man who looks at someone the wrong way." He spills more information. My fists clench involuntarily as he says FEDRA is basically trying to sweep this under the rug to stop a potential riot. It seems that good old-fashioned vigilante action is going to be needed after all. Appreciative of his cooperation, I toss the pills over to him.

"Thank you. Those are on the house." I say as I make my way out of his apartment, on a newfound mission.

I feel as if I'm practically flying to area five, near the wharf. I'm familiar with the empty warehouses, there are plenty of transactions I make there. But, I've never noticed any sign of someone living there before. Usually, even just one straggler leaves some sort of evidence. Unless they're dumping their evidence into the water.

I begin searching the warehouses one by one, knowing that this might take a good while to be thorough. I intend to search each warehouse with a fine tooth comb. Those children deserve someone to fight for their justice. And if FEDRA isn't going to get these families justice, then I sure as hell will. I know I would want someone to do the same if it were my child.

The sudden thought of Lucas makes my heart constrict with sadness, and I find myself clutching the necklace that never leaves my neck; a constant reminder of my family who are only with me now in spirit.

The first warehouse proves to be empty, every surface is covered with a thick layer of dust and nothing has been recently disturbed, save for rat droppings here and there. The second warehouse is also empty, but I did find some spent shell casings. Probably remnants of some shootout, but I don't know if the killers had anything to do with it, they seem to be keen on using blades.

With hope, I step into the third, and final, warehouse that sits on the wharf. The creaky old building looks like it could fall over at any second and so I'm careful of where my steps land. I take my flashlight out to look at every minute detail, looking for anything that suggests someone is staying here. I take a deep breath and stand up straight as the faint scent of a fire tinges my nose.

Carefully, I make my way up the warehouse stairs to where a small landing overlooks the rest of the building. To my surprise, there's the remains of a poorly constructed fire. It looks like it's been put out for a while, but was lit recently, as evidenced by the warmth of the wood. The floor surrounding the fire suggests that there were at least two people here, there are two different shoe tracks imprinted in the dusty floor.

I walk over to what looks like a makeshift mattress, made out of broken down cardboard boxes. Crouching down, I examine some scattered papers. There's a hand-drawn map of the QZ and there are circles drawn around areas with accompanying notes. I read the notes scribbled on the edges of the paper and realize I'm looking at the killer's plan. I feel like I could throw up as I read what it written on the paper.

They had singled out their victims, made note of their physical appearances. The notes imply that the killer wanted nothing more than to defile the victims in any way possible. It's almost like the killer, or killers, were playing a game. After I've read everything, I fold the map and tuck it in my back pocket, looking for any other evidence they might have left.

Sticking out of the cardboard boxes is another piece of paper. I turn the paper around in my hand and read what's written on it. It's a checklist, or more of a goal list, and it's clear as day to me now that these killings were a game, and that there are definitely two people in on this. The listed goals include finding suitable victims, seeing who could stab their victim more, who could kill their victim the quickest without a headshot, and who could get their victim to give up the most information.

On the left and right hand side of the paper there are numbers listed, along with words. The numbers correlate to the listed goals, and the words are all about what they learned from their victims. The killers got information about their victims' personal lives, it seems they weren't after much more than that, which I find to be a little odd. Usually infiltrators want to know where the armory is, where the food is kept. But it seems these people may have a steady flow of food and weapons if their focus was on personal information; making it all seem more like a sport. Like they chose this QZ as their hunting ground. I fold this paper and put it in my pocket as well, and search for anything else. However, that seems to be it.

The lack of personal belongings, weapons, food, paired with the lack of additional fire wood tells me that these people left and don't plan on returning here. Perhaps they knew they were going to be tracked down and so they left before anyone could find them. Maybe they were satisfied with the carnage and fear they created, so they just left before they could get caught. If my experience in this world has taught me anything though, it's that people as vile as this will never stop hurting others. It's possible they may even return here, maybe with more people. Maybe this was some sort of test run, to see what they could get away with. It's hard to know for sure.

I fall back so that I'm sitting flat on the floor, and tears make their way down my face. These predators killed those children for sport and just left without any sort of repercussion.Tears of sadness and frustration fall for the children who lost their lives, for the families who lost their dear loved ones. After a few minutes of anguish, my sorrow turns to anger, and I stand to my feet, wiping my face and making my way back to area one.

Each time my foot hits the pavement, the anger intensifies. These people will not get away with what they've done here, they will face consequences. I will hunt them down until I find them, even if that means I must go to the ends of the Earth. In this world, there is no place for evil offenders such as them, it's bad enough the infected threaten our lives everyday. Life is valuable, and those who don't treat it as such must be taken out of the equation for the greater good and the order of civility.

With one last sniffle, I knock on James' apartment door. He doesn't answer after a few minutes, so I knock again, louder this time. I hear a chair scrape against the wooden floor, and heavy footsteps come my way.

"What?" James' gruff voice demands before he even sees its me. His hard exterior immediately softens as he sees me standing there. I let myself in and am surprised to see an unfamiliar man sitting at the table.

The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him, which should intimidate me, but in my current state, it doesn't phase me.

The man stares back at me like he's angry I'm here, like I interrupted something. But, I can't seem to find it in myself to care what I interrupted in this moment. My mind is on one track and one track only. James closes the door and stands between me and the unfamiliar man. He clears his throat and for the first time, I think James is uncomfortable. I tear my gaze from the stranger and look to James.

"I need to talk to you." My voice cracks as I speak. James nods and glances back to the other man.

"Can it wait?" He asks and I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep my anger at bay. I cross my arms, not backing down.

"It can't actually." I keep my words vague because this other man doesn't need to know anything about what I'm doing. James lets out a huff of air and runs a hand through his hair. The other man shifts in his seat. The two men exchange a glance, and I can tell it's loaded with some sort of silent communication. James nods his head, as if he's coming to some sort of conclusion.

"What is it then?" James asks, taking me aback. He knows what's going on, and I'm surprised he even suggested that I talk in front of whoever this man is. How do I know this man isn't going to go talking about everything I say here? I glance quickly at the man, who's now leaning forward on the table.

"Really? You know what I'm here about." My voice is tinged with anger and I set my jaw tightly. James takes a seat across from the other man and gives me a reassuring nod.

"It's okay Noelle, he's a friend. And he's leaving the QZ tonight, he won't talk." James promises me. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, struggling with what I should do. But, I don't see any other option but to tell James what my plan is. With an exasperated sigh, I uncross my arms and start talking.

"Fine. I went back out after curfew and found two girls, both killed like the boy was. I let someone else report them, I couldn't be the one to do it. And so later I went to area four and talked to one of our clients to see what's being done about this. He gave me more information about the kids, led me to the wharf in area five. I searched them all and this is what I found." I take the papers out of my pocket and spread them out on the small kitchen table, giving extra space to the unknown man. The two lean in to see what I've presented. I give them time to read the papers, and I see James' face grow pale. The other man's face seems to be set in anger.

"It was more than one." James states as he finishes reading the papers. I nod my head in confirmation.

"I think it was two. There were two sets of prints on the floor. But I think they left the QZ. The firewood was going cold, and there were no possessions left behind." I take the papers back and put them in my pocket. James scrunches his eyebrows together.

"So if they're gone, what's the issue?" His question shocks me.

"What's the issue? Three kids are dead because of them. One of them died in my fucking arms. They're just going to keep doing this. Maybe not here, but to others. I came here to tell you I'm leaving. I'm going to hunt them down." I stare right into James' eyes as I tell him I plan on leaving. Immediately, he shakes his head.

"No, Noelle, you can't leave." He practically begs. I shrug my shoulders,

"Why not James? I do the same damn thing every day here. I do my duties and then I run pills. Over and over again. These children deserve justice, someone has to fight for them. Why not me?" I tell him, feeling only slightly awkward that a stranger is present for this conversation.

"Who's going to keep things going? Theresa won't." He says, only caring about the pill smuggling operation we have going here. I shake my head, he just doesn't get it.

"There are plenty of others who can run pills just as good as me. Get one of them to do it, James. Hell, I'll even give you a list of who gets what and when." I say, more than willing to leave behind the schedule I've got going with our clients. James throws his hands up in frustration.

"So after all these years you're going to leave? Just like that?" He incredulously asks. I'm almost at a loss for words, he's acting like he's never going to see me again.

"I won't be gone forever. Once I kill these bastards I'll be back and it'll be like I never left." I tell him the truth. I do fully intend on coming back here. This shouldn't take me but a few days. James runs a hand through his hair and then focuses his attention on the man across the table from him.

"Man, do me a solid. Go with her." I'm almost offended that James thinks I need a security detail to go with me. Before the man can reply, I interrupt.

"No James, I can handle myself. Have some damn faith." I protest, but James keeps his eyes trained on the other man. Feeling patronized, I turn on my heel and leave James' apartment before either of them can say another word, slamming the door behind me. Sure, it's a little juvenile, but so was James' blatant display of his lack of confidence in me.

I go to my apartment to gather things I'll need, being sure to bring all the ammunition I have, my good hunting knife, and other survival necessities. I was planning on leaving first thing in the morning, but I know James will just come over here and bother me, so I'll leave tonight before he gets the chance to.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, how things left off between James and I, but once I return I'm sure we'll be able to patch things up, we always do.

Part Six

[everydayyoulovemeless]

This will most certainly be an incredibly strange ask, but I finished watching Predator recently, and was thinking, how would New Vegas or 4 companions react to having (with the help of their respective protagonist) killed one of them?

FNV Companion's Reactions To Having Killed One Of The Predators

➼ Word Count » 0.6k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic

Boone finds them disgusting and would want to send in a report to the NCR just so they're aware of what's out there. They're a threat to the natural order of things, and if the Legion got a hold of one, the Mojave would be screwed. If anything, he'd want to try and find more so they could be turned into weapons for the battle at Hoover Dam. The whole ordeal would be another reason for him to be kept up at night, too busy worrying over the possible dangers that could harm either of you to even want to rest.

Arcade would stand in shock, confused at what he was looking at, before snapping out of it and taking as many samples as he could carry with him. He'd try and take everything he could — from its weapons to syringes filled with its blood — just so the Followers could help research it with him. His biggest concern would be that more would eventually come, so he's hoping this will make everyone more prepared if they do.

They might not even realize Raul's alive at first, or at the very least, go a bit easier on him due to how sick he looks. He'll be glad when the thing finally dies, hitting it once more to ensure it stays down. He'll make bitter comments about how he 'doesn't even look that old'. He's more salty about it than anything, but he does try and recommend that you and him stick to NCR or Legion camps so they can deal with them if another ever comes back.

Lily is appalled by the lack of manners the Predators have and will give you this short shpeal about how you should never end up like them. Her schizophrenia makes it hard for her to fully comprehend this as a real event and not a sign that she just needs to take her medicine a bit more often, but she's there to support you when things go south.

Cass would start shooting at it the second it appeared and would feel so accomplished if you two actually did get it to die. She'd be exhausted afterward, suggesting that you guys set up camp for the night and figure out what to do with the beast in the morning. She might even throw some of its limbs on the fire to see if they're edible, and the armor would be good to sell...

Veronica would also try to gather as much information as she could on the creature and write a quick report for the Elder. This thing that the two of you killed is a technological marvel and she'd be damned if she let it go to waste. In fact, she might even ask you to help drag the entire thing back to Hidden Valley so that the other scribes can look at it in a more hands-on manner.

They can't see ED-E through their Bio-Masks since he doesn't produce any thermal heat, so it'll mostly just be the courier trying to kill it while he zips around in fear, trying to find a weak spot on it. It'll be more of a relief than a curiosity when you finally get him to fall. You'd probably just end up leaving it there and going to the nearest settlement with how tired the both of you would be.

Rex is still tense, even when the two of you do manage to kill it. He'll bark and growl until you're both far away from whatever hole you left it in and will be visibly shaken if you end up wandering close to the area ever again.

[heyclickadee]

Tech’s Alive, Part 6: The Matter of Weight (cw for discussions of death, suicide mention, genocide mention)

AKA, why “Tech should stay dead for the stakes” and “Tech should stay dead so the moment he sacrifices himself retains its weight” are arguments I will not be entertaining in this household. And by this household, I mean my blog. But also probably my actual apartment here in real space.

So, this isn’t really an argument for why Tech is alive, per se. It’s more just me trying to counter the two most common arguments I see people making for why he should be dead, whether the person making the argument thinks he’s dead or not.

Stakes:

The first argument, that Tech should stay dead for the sake of the “stakes” is, to me, the most nebulous. On this here interwebs we tend to talk about “stakes” purely in the negative; everyone’s going to die, the villains are going to win, everything is going to be sad forever, etc. But stakes in a story are really just about potential consequences—what could happen if the characters succeed, and what could happen if they fail. And while it’s true that killing a character can raise the stakes in a story, it’s best accomplished by killing off a secondary character, and it can really only raise them in a story in which death was never a potential consequence.

Death has always been a potential consequence for these characters, not just for failure, but just for existing in the world in which they live. Scratch that, dying is quite literally what they were made to do. This is a series in which two genocides have already taken place—that of the Jedi, then of the Kaminoans—and which has us watching a third ongoing—that of the clones themselves. Almost every new named clone we’ve met has died, and died violently. The clone force 99 characters have all almost died about once an episode so far, and every time they do, the show tends to treat it as a serious close call.

So killing off Tech doesn’t raise the potential consequences of failure to “death” because that potential was always there. Killing off a secondary but known clone character like, say, Howser could have made heightened that risk more effectively. Heck, Mayday’s death does a better job of raising that risk for Crosshair, for example; the only reason Crosshair wasn’t the one who died in the avalanche was was because Mayday noticed the rock and pushed Crosshair out of the way. Killing off Tech and leaving him dead, by contrast, would actually, in a way, lower the stakes—because, again, the risk of “potential consequences” is gone (it’s just reality now), AND stakes are also about what could happen if the characters succeed and get what they want. Meaning that if Tech’s gone for good, the potential positive consequences are much, much lower. The positive consequence of the clone force 99 family reuniting—the thing the story keeps making us want—would just be gone. There’s only so far you can ratchet the spring of tension before it snaps.

That said, when some people argue for Tech’s death in favor of raised stakes, I don’t think the above is really what they’re talking about. They’re mostly making a somewhat edgelordy argument about death needing to feel real in the star war and darkness being the “mature” option. Let’s say I bought that argument. Let’s say I actually thought “the reality of death” and “maturity” were valid reasons to kill off a main character. Let’s even push aside all the reasons why I think killing off any one of the bad batchers permanently would break the story. Let’s do this thought experiment. Killing off Tech in this season and leaving him dead still doesn’t work, specifically because so much time this season was spent on developing and helping the other characters to understand him better.

You can spend time building up a character and developing them for the sole purpose of killing them and giving them a send-off if your show has an unserialized format. Think Gray’s Anatomy or Bones; unserialized shows are just taking the characters and putting them in different combinations or scenarios until the end of time without really worrying about arcs or narrative threads, so in that format spending time with a character before killing them off makes sense. Spending an entire season of a serialized show building up a character and their relationships, using them to develop certain themes and narrative threads, using them to push certain parts of the plot forward, and then killing them off in which a way which does nothing to resolve any of those arcs, themes, or narrative threads, though? That’s just a waste of time. Of limited time—because fully serialized shows have an ending. I’d be more willing to buy into this line of argument if it was Wrecker, not Tech, simply because he hasn’t had the kind of development Tech has.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d still absolutely hate it and would see perma-deathing Wrecker as just as story breaking as perma-deathing Tech. But if we’re doing the thought experiment where I’m talking about stakes the way some people seem to be doing, I could see it working better in that context than perma-deathing Tech. People can make that argument about Tech’s “death,” sure, but what they’re really advocating for is bad writing. And hey! Maybe we’ll get to the end of the show and it will turn out to have been badly written! I just…don’t really buy that right now.

(Of course, this is all moot anyway, because I fundamentally disagree with the definition of stakes being used by some people making this argument and see this line of thinking as somewhat edgelordy bologna anyway. But! Moving on.)

Wanting Tech’s Sacrifice to Have Weight:

So, I’m more sympathetic to this line of thinking. I don’t agree with it, but I can kind of respect where it’s coming from. I’ve mostly seen this from people who really hate the idea that Tech is dead, but don’t see a way for the moment in which Tech sacrifices himself to maintain its emotional weight if it turns out he’s alive, and who want the writers to respect Tech’s choice. And I get that. I’ve watched more than one show that had some big emotional moment that got completely ruined by being undone or having some other development come up later on. So it’s not that I think this argument is invalid; I just don’t think it applies in this specific case.

Because…okay, first, when it comes to the writers respecting Tech’s choice, I want us to think really hard about what he’s choosing to do. Because he’s not choosing to die. Not exactly. He’s choosing to do something extremely risky that will probably get him killed, and he knows it, in order to save his family. And I know it maybe doesn’t seem like there’s a distinction there, but there is one, and it’s important, because—I mean—listen to that last heavy sigh he gives before his last line. He doesn’t want to do it. He doesn’t want to die. He just doesn’t see any way out for the others if he doesn’t risk it. (Also I feel like the “the writers need to respect his choice argument” really kind of…not…real great bad, actually, it’s real bad guys, even if he was choosing to die, specifically, because that’s way too close to advocating for suicide for comfort. I don’t think that’s what anyone is intending by this argument but….)

Second, I don’t agree that Tech’s “death” is what gives that moment its emotional weight. Let’s say that Tech does die here. Let’s say he really isn’t coming back. In that case, his death is kind of meaningless, because he was going to die anyway. If we’re saying he died, then it was either all of them die, or just him. Which means that the thing that gives that moment weight can’t be his death, because he had no way out of dying, if we’re looking at it that way and accepting that he’s just gone for good.

The thing that gives that moment weight—just a warning, I’m about to get tooth-achingly schmaltzy here, and I’m not sorry—is love. It’s everyone in the batch’s love for Tech shattering into a million little pieces of grief and horror as they watch him fall. It’s Tech loving his family so damn much he refuses to even consider letting them fall with him. It’s Tech, not knowing that he’s a character in a story, looking at the situation, knowing what he’s about to do will probably kill him—because if he wasn’t a character in a story, it probably would—knowing that if he does it he’ll probably never see Crosshair again, never see Echo or Hunter at peace, never get to hear Wrecker laugh again, never get to see Omega grow up, and still choosing to take the fall for them because there’s no chance he’d let them take the same risk. That’s why that moment has meaning. And because that’s where the meaning comes from, I can’t see how that meaning or weight would evaporate if he came back.

I mean—let’s say you were waking down the street with a friend. You step out in front of a bus, purely by accident. Your friend notices and pushes you out of the way, and in so doing steps in front of the bus, gets hit, and miraculously survives. Does their survival do anything to decrease the fact that they were willing to get hit by a bus for you? Are we really going to argue “death, or it doesn’t count” when it comes to self-sacrifice?

Furthermore, the “Tech has to stay dead for his sacrifice to have weight” argument seems to be made at least partly from the point of view that “dead” and “fully abled” are the only two options. They’re not. Other people have covered the possibility that Tech will come back with a physical disability that he has to adjust to way better than I ever could, but that’s a very real consequence the show could deal with.

I don’t really have a conclusion to this. Basically, while I have seen the stakes and weight arguments floating around, I don’t really see either of them as valid narrative arguments for keeping Tech dead, and I wanted to explain why.

[kazemiya]

★彡 Kaoru Hakaze coffeeshop au

a/n: I love coffeeshop au and I think this idea suits kaoru best so yes here it is. Im not so sure abt this one bc it’s kinda long and im kinda struggling with kaoru character (hopefully it wasn’t too bad).

Nestled between a few tall buildings was a cafe, a common hotspot for students and workers alike. Your friend, Chiaki was adamant about you going to check it out at least once. Not like he gave you a choice anyways, at this very moment he is dragging you there.

“C’mon c’mon ! U have to try the coffee and the baristas are rlly nice too! I’m friends with them after all” Chiaki shared as you begrudgingly followed behind him.

“Sure sure I’m here cause I owe u a favour anyways” you replied as you entered the cafe door, opened for you by Chiaki.

Chiaki went ahead and ordered the two lattes “trust me their lattes are to die for!” Whispered Chiaki, with a wink while you two waited for the drinks.

Upon receiving the drink there was only one thing wrong. Your name was spelt wrongly. It was just a letter wrong, maybe it was an honest mistake. Yea there’s no way it’s on purpose yes?

The next day you found yourself at the same cafe, their lattes were actually quite nice but this time you returned without Chiaki.

After placing your order, the blonde barista asked “name?”

“Y/n” you replied, making your way to the side to wait for your drink.

Again??? Again, the name was wrong… but of course you dismissed it.

You returned every other day, before class or after class, sometimes at night. You became a regular after not too long and you noticed some… unusual things.

“Chiaki, there’s a weird problem about that cafe you brought me to”

“Hmm” Chiaki hummed in response, prompting you to continue.

“Firstly, why do they sometimes get my name right and then the next day the get it completely wrong??? The names are getting weirder and more outrageous too…” you ranted, rubbing you temples thinking about the experience. “But you’re right though they have good lattes”

“They’ve never gotten my name wrong though? Maybe you should just ask them, doesn’t hurt to do so you know, go after hours?” Chiaki suggested.

Nodding your head, you went right before they were about to close, upon entering you were greeted by the a black haired barista.

“How may I help you?” He asked.

“Ahem this may sound very random and I’m just curious but why is it my name ends up being written wrongly on my cup?” You asked sheepishly, you felt slightly shy asking such a random question out of nowhere.

“Hmm it actually worked… Kaoru! Someone here for you!” The guy smirked as he yelled to the back, motioning for a blonde barista to talk to you.

“Hi I’m guessing you want to know why your name is spelt wrongly on your cup…?” He asked, shifting his gaze away from your eyes.

“…yea I’m curious” the air was getting tense and awkward. Just why? There must be a reason.

“Well you looked interesting but I didn’t really know how to approach you. So I followed my friends advice (yes he is referring to Rei), and yea so that happened” he explained, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

“So you wanted to get to know me better…hmm I’m not against it but for real what possessed you to follow your friends advice?” You smacked you forehead, laughing at his actions.

He bit back a smile but soon he started laughing along with you, your joyous laughter echoing throughout the cafe.

Only to be interrupted by “oh my you two finally talked? What an accomplishment” Rei sarcastically commented at the sight.

“Shut up.” Kaoru hissed at Rei. You were about to scold Kaoru, especially since it was because of Rei advice he could finally talk to you.

“And you should probably look at who you’re talking to, maybe you’ll meet more people this way” Rei suggested, nodding in your direction.

“Shut up.” You grumbled underneath ur breath.

[noemitenshi]

What I'd love to see in S8B

It seems the version I favored first regarding Troy's return, namely Troy being just a manifestation of Madison's guilt is not gonna play out, at all. Which I'm kinda sad about but it was never a very likely outcome [not saying that what I'm talking about here is any more likely haha].

Now, I heard some rumors, about how Troy coming back may play out (I feel like there's no question anymore whether Troy is returning) and the one that wouldn't let me go is [under the cut because of potential spoilers. maybe. who knows]

him having a daughter. Now, no idea how likely that is. But assuming that is happening - and I have to admit I had very mixed feelings when I first heard that which maybe has to do with the fact that I'm one of the few people who mostly don't like storylines with kids (like, I was no fan of squirrel at all in Cursed 🙈). I also worried whether they would change Troy's character because of the daughter and he becomes unrecognizable (also because we are missing how he went from end of s3, where he was still learning who he was to ... well whoever he is in s8. Missed opportunity).

Ok putting all that aside, if he has a daughter, how fun would it be though if he teamed up with Madison to save his daughter and possibly starting their manipulative game again, probably with him now holding things over her head (things is her having intended to kill him, I'm sure he can play perfectly into her guilt there) - a reflection of s3 but now it's him trying to save his kid, doing everything for her. ["You love him more than your own life?" he'd asked Madison in s3ep1 with this note of surprise in his tone. He totally gets it now and very likely will use this, the fact that he's a parent now, to get her to cooperate too. Pulling out alll the stops.] A distorted reflection.

I think they'll manage to get the daughter (introducing her just to kill her off seems wasteful to me but who knows) and then I would absolutely love it if Troy ends up mirroring Madison's actions to the end - killing her in order to keep his kid safe. And Madison seeing that intent, accepting her fate just seconds before (my personal headcanon *is* that Madison harbors a lot of guilt for how she did things so it's even kind of cathartic maybe for her, to die so she can't hurt any more kids (but I also have to admit I haven't really watched Madison's arc beyond s3 so I may be off here)).

OR, alternatively they manage to get his daughter back, and do part ways now in a mutual understanding and forgiveness (something Troy had tried to get/give in s3 but Madison hadn't been ready for that), some of Madison's guilt will even be lifted, she'll feel some sense of accomplishment/peace. And then it's revealed (don't ask me how haha I'd have to think on that) that Troy isn't actually the father of his supposed daughter but a kid he stole from her parents

[maybe her parents nursed him back to health, maybe there were some cute bonding scenes between Troy and her, maybe her parents were acting strict or something towards her and Troy, with his own childhood trauma saw it as them mistreating her, maybe he overreacted then as he decided 'not again, I won't let this happen again' and took her, maybe she cried the first few weeks while he told her her parents died in a zombie attack, maybe they are in a good place now - though it would also be fun if it's not all good],

and in fact, Madison should have killed him this time (or at least not have allowed him to leave). I do like tragedy of it, how she had killed him in s3 to save Nick (which wasn't necessary at all) and now that she let him go she feels again like she made the wrong choice, damned this kid.

Anyway guess I'm slightly looking forward to s8b after all 😂

[pikahlua]

Is it just me or the flashback scenes bakugo had before his sacrifice didn't look good unlike the manga where other scenes were also included besides the sludge incident. I think this episode sucks very much compared to the other episodes.

That's just, like, your opinion, man. And to be clear, you're not alone in feeling that way, but I just happen to disagree. I loved this episode. I can also see why someone else might not have loved it. To each their own.

I watch some reaction channels, and a lot of anime-only viewers seem to have been blown away by this episode. Clearly they're getting what they needed to out of this episode, and that's basically the anime's job. So I'd call that a successful episode.

To compare the anime 1-for-1 to the manga is always a losing battle, because when an anime follows the manga too closely it adds absolutely nothing to justify why the manga needed an anime in the first place. And when an anime strays too far from the manga, die-hard manga fans will be upset. It's a thin line to walk. But it is always a mistake to compare the anime's art style to the manga's, because the manga will always win every time (at least it SHOULD). Manga is still-frame art. It's meant to be viewed at your own pace. Each panel is going to have more detail than you would ever see in an anime episode, because animation does not lend itself to lots of super detailed frames (at least not without a giant team and budget). Additionally, each animator will have their own art style they use to try to capture what they can from the manga but ALSO translate the images from the manga into an anime format. There are lots of considerations there, and some priorities will trump others when it comes down to what's possible for the animation team to accomplish.

That said, the correct things to scrutinize would be what the anime brings to the table, namely music, pacing, voice acting, editing, and animation. I thought there was some spectacular animation this episode, and the anime added some things I thought really helped clarify the action of the episode as well as drive the emotions home. From the way everyone else was reacting before I saw the episode, I was coming in with some low expectations, so I was very surprised by what a solid episode it turned out to be. If I were to criticize anything, it would probably be that I would want a little more physical impact shown when Katsuki is hit (although I do also see why they played it the way they did, so while I may have done it differently I'm not upset by what we got). Additionally, some of the still images in the rescue sequence (such as some of the flashbacks like you said) were either missing or shown too quickly to have the same impact. That said, none of these changes ruined the tone of the episode. We only can feel upset about these things because we have read the manga before this, but any anime-only viewer will not have missed anything major. They wouldn't have been able to linger on those moments anyways by virtue of this being anime rather than manga. No, I think the pacing of the rescue sequence was correct for the anime medium, even if some things I liked in the manga had to be cut to make it happen. That's how translation from one medium to another ultimately has to work.

All things considered, despite its flaws, this episode was a banger for me.

[forgottenbrigit]

ooc | Brigit & Eithne

BRIGIT LOVES HER SISTERS SO MUCH!!!! <333

They are the best people in the world, she will not listen to any arguments on the subject -- thank you!!!

Eithne is definitely the closest thing Brigit has had to a mom in a long time. I feel like Brigit has a couple of memories of her mom, but most of them have faded now, and she only vaguely remembers what it was like to have an actual mom. I do think Brigit probably tried to help Eithne in that role, too, but lbr she's more like a clueless older brother than a mom?? And her idea of helping out with the little ones was to show them a good time (aka sneak out of the house and get in trouble) and let them eat whatever they want. NGL, Aoife is probably more of a help in this area than Brigit ever was (she was probably like "um, brigit, I don't think we should try to climb this big tree in our nice dresses with a three year old")

I also think there was definitely a time where Brigit wanted to be just like Eithne? Like she's such a great older sister and so accomplished and elegant and beautiful and kind and Brigit is just awkward and loud and unaccomplished, but that didn't stop her from trying!! Until, I think, she realized that she was nothing like Eithne and just accepted that she was her own person, instead.

I do think that they probably have those moments where Eithne gives Brigit well intentioned lectures before they go out like "please try not to insult so-and-so; can you stay inside for the twenty minutes before we leave so your hair and dress will look somewhat presentable?" etc etc. and brigit probably just rolls her eyes and acts like she's not listening, but I do think she tries to be somewhat presentable ... but that doesn't always work out for her.

Not sure if Brigit knows about Eithne's plans to try to marry to put them all in a better situation, but Brigit is NOT about it. She's not sure what the solution is tbh (as outdoorsy as Brigit is, I think even she realizes that she'd die out in the woods in the winter and that escaping to live in the wild is, unfortunately, off the table for no) but she's convinced that it is NOT her sister marrying someone and that they just need to stick together and continue on as the always have and eventually they will find a way to get rid of their stepfam!

She's also NOT on board with this Cassimir trying to get with Eithne either (um, EW????) and Brigit will constantly be trying to just .... keep them separated and one of her biggest priorities is that Eithne is never alone with him, if she must be in his presence at all!

[sjsmith56]

The Dark - Part 12, From There to Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots

Summary: After Alexander Pierce takes control of the Asset more resources are used to keep him fit and ready for assignments. Sent to train Black Widows in Russia the Asset begins to regain more memories but keeps it to himself, knowing what HYDRA will do to him if they find out. An incident where he refuses an order from his handler results in a new disciplinary process that has almost disastrous results, bringing even more change into the Asset’s life.

Length: 3.9K

Characters: The Asset, Alexander Pierce, Natalia, Dreykov, handlers Prospero and Higgins.

Warnings: mentions of breeding, physical violence resulting in death, blood, strangulation, abuse causing injury, swearing.

Author’s notes: This is probably the darkest one shot in this collection. I wrote it to show how Bucky’s brain would repair itself constantly, allowing for his core personality to always be there, even when suppressed. When he was in this state there were lines he wouldn’t cross and he would die, even welcome death, to defend those lines.

<<Part 11

🔹〰️🔹〰️🔹

In some ways the influence of the man called Pierce changed how the Soldier was treated by HYDRA. He was still disciplined physically by his handler, sometimes brutally if he didn't do something quick enough or well enough but the treatment from the support staff, those who washed him, dressed him, and prepared his weapons, was better. They feared him and he sometimes heard them whisper about the day he killed four men with his bare hands. Not that he remembered it as the memory suppression treatment was a regular occurrence now. But if the others said he did it he had no reason not to believe them. That was also part of his training, to believe everything his handler and his superiors told him. Questioning was not tolerated, doubts were dealt with summarily, and disobedience was punished to the point of injury. Yet questions and doubts still arose in his mind, especially when he was alone in his quarters trying to sleep and remembering the things he had done for HYDRA. He never voiced them, knowing it would lead to extra treatment in the room with the black machine.

The Soldier ate what he was given, drank what was raised to his lips, and spoke only when spoken to, mostly during mission reports. He was aware of being sent to many different places, usually by aircraft, sometimes by truck, given his mission and weapons, then sent out to track his target, eliminate them, dispose of witnesses and return to a rendezvous point where his weapons would be taken from him, he would report the results of the mission then be taken back to a facility, usually one close to where he had eliminated his target, and be subject to the memory suppression treatment, and sometimes placed into the cryostasis cylinder.

Time had no meaning to the Soldier. When he wasn't frozen, he was aware of the passage of the days, but he didn't know what year it was or what month, unless it was necessary to know for his mission. There was an extended run of days where he was in Russia, moved from site to site as he worked for a place called the Red Room, a training program for female assassins.

The women, many of them still teenage girls, were required to fight against him almost to the point of him killing them but he was ordered not to deliver the killing stroke. Like him, time and money had been invested in them, and their master, a brutish man called Dreykov, would allow them so many attempts at withstanding the "training" with the Asset before removing the failed assassin from the program. He never knew what happened to those who were removed. Several of the women fared well against him in their training sessions, learning enough from each encounter to hold their own against him in his restrained efforts. Apparently, they were to graduate from the Red Room, which should have been an accomplishment, at least by his understanding of the term graduation.

It wasn't until he was escorted to his quarters on one occasion and told to undress in preparation for sleep that he learned one of the reasons he was there. During the time he had been at the Red Room he was freed of his usual schedule in the memory suppression machine. Knowing that displaying any of his returning memories would result in punishment he kept his thoughts private, while still performing his training requirements with the Red Room recruits in the same manner. When one of the recruits appeared at his door and entered his room, wearing only night clothes, he looked at her suspiciously. Nervously, she looked back at him.

"I was told to report here," she said, in English with a perfect midwestern American accent.

Her face was pale as she said it, her green eyes darting towards the camera in the corner of his quarters. His eyes narrowed as she waited for him to speak.

"Why?"

She swallowed. "To offer myself to you." At least she was honest.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen," she said, undoing the tie on the braid that her red hair was enclosed in and shaking her hair loose. "My name is Natalia."

"No," he replied, turning away. "You're a child."

"Please, you must ...," she began, then her voice trailed off. "They'll punish me."

"No," he repeated, then he looked up at the camera. "They can punish me. If they punish you I will not obey my handler. I will inflict much damage before they can stop me. But I will not do this. иди младшая сестра.” (Little sister)

She turned her face away from the camera and he heard a little intake of breath. Then the door opened and closed. When he looked back to where she had been standing, she was gone. He continued undressing but could hear multiple conversations out in the hallway and knew they were coming for him. Picking up the chair he crushed it into pieces and picked up two long lengths to use as bludgeons. It was their fault for not suppressing his memory for so long, long enough for him to understand what they were really asking of him. He would not cooperate.

When they came in with stun devices that took him down to his knees he stayed upright for as long as he could, not allowing them to come near. It wasn't until he took one too many jolts and blacked out, then saw himself on the floor of the room, his eyes blank and his mouth open, that he realized they had killed him, and for the first time in a long time he hoped that it was all over, and he was free.

The bright lights of an operating room hurt his eyes when he opened them again. Once more he failed to escape and began to writhe under the restraints. His voice didn't work otherwise he would have thrown curse upon curse on them for bringing him back against his will. A sharp slap against his face then the dark eyes of Prospero greeted him.

"You don't get to leave without my permission, Asset," sneered his handler in English. "You don't get to disobey, either. You will mate with the graduates of the Red Room."

"No."

Even though his mouth was gagged the Soldier spat out the word in a fury then broke the head restraint to head butt Prospero. Just as he pulled his metal arm free his handler said the failsafe word and the Soldier fell back senseless. The handler ordered him to be taken to the memory suppression room.

"His system is still weak from restarting his heart," said the doctor. "Putting him in the machine could kill him."

Prospero grabbed the doctor by his white jacket. "Put him in the machine," he said succinctly.

Attendants came, removing the gag, and transferring the unconscious man onto a gurney then running him to the machine that had been set up for their use while he was in the Red Room. As they strapped him in he began to awaken and resisted their efforts. Grasping a stun baton the handler cleared everyone away and put it into the Soldier's side, leaving it there for several seconds. With a glare in his eyes the Soldier sneered at Prospero.

"I will not comply," he said through gritted teeth. "You will have to kill me before I will stoop to that level. They are children."

Breathing heavily Prospero stood back, then struck the Soldier across the face several times. Each time he did so more blood would appear on the man's face, from his nose, his mouth, and cuts that opened on his cheek and face. Throughout the abuse the Soldier kept his eyes on the angry eyes of his handler. After delivering many such blows Prospero stopped to determine if the Soldier would comply. Instead the dark haired man sneered at him again.

"Fuck off," he said, through bloody teeth. "I will not comply."

The handler lost control and began beating the Soldier about the head and chest until Dreykov himself came in and ordered him to be pulled away from the Soldier. Barking at one of his underlings to bring him the Soldier's file Dreykov opened it then sneered at Prospero.

"You fool," swore the Russian, in English. "He had a sister, almost the same age as these girls when he was turned. You think you can overwrite that type of loyalty? It is in his DNA. He will never comply, not willingly. Take him back. We're done with him."

Dreykov tossed the file to Prospero who caught it in the air, then looked at the section outlining the family relations of the Soldier.

Relatives: Sister, Rebecca. Born 1930.

Swearing out loud, he stood over the Soldier, glaring at him. "Prepare him for cold storage," he said to the doctor.

Storming out of the room he went to place a phone call to Alexander Pierce. As he waited to be connected, he wondered how the hell he was going to explain this to the man. When he got through, he was put on hold and waited for some time before finally being connected.

"He won't comply with the Widows," he stated. "Refused to mate."

"I know, Dreykov just called me," replied Pierce. "I didn't realize the Widows were so young. The Asset sees them as children and that's something we can never change, not with the strong base personality at his core. Freeze him, return him to the Austrian lab."

"Well, can't we wait until one of them is older?" asked Prospero. "Surely, he won't have a problem if she's eighteen."

"He probably wouldn't but that's not how the Widows do things," said his boss. "Their graduation ceremony? It takes place before they're sixteen. If they survive the winnowing out process, they seal their accomplishment by being sterilized, full hysterectomy. Never let biology interfere with a mission. There's a lesson there, Prospero. The Asset's core personality won't allow him to be with what he perceives as a child."

"All this time here, wasted," fumed Prospero. "We could have been on a mission."

There was silence at the other end. "You second guessing my decisions?" asked Pierce, eventually.

"No, sir," replied the handler. "Just frustrated."

"We'll talk later, once you've calmed down," said Pierce. "I expect you both in Austria tomorrow."

By the time he finished the phone call the Soldier was in his cryostasis cylinder, hooked up to the portable power source and ready to be loaded on a transport for the airport. Prospero ordered the Soldier's clothing to be packed as he packed his things. Just before he left his room there was a knock on his door. Surprisingly, it was one of the Widows, the red haired one who had been sent to the Soldier first.

"Dreykov said I was to take care of you before you left," she said, playing with one of the braids in her hair.

A smirk crossed Prospero's face as he looked the girl up and down. Unlike the Soldier he had no problem taking pleasure from such a sweet thing. Stepping back towards his bed he sat on the edge and beckoned to her.

"So, what has Dreykov taught you, sweetheart?" he asked, pulling her closer to him.

"Many things," she smiled, then she leaned towards his ear. "Many, many ways to enjoy me."

Before he could react, the girl had a garrotte around his throat and cartwheeled over him, landing on the bed behind him, pressing her knees tight into his back as she pulled even tighter on the wire cutting off his airway. Every attempt he made to get his fingers under the deadly wire only served to make the girl pull harder with a strength that shocked him. As he began to struggle in earnest for his life she spoke.

"I was ordered to kill you as you no longer have control over the Asset," she said, with venom. "Even brainwashed he is a much better man you ever were. Go to hell, handler."

With one last tug the wire cut into Prospero's throat, and blood began pouring from the severed artery in his neck. In a matter of seconds, it was over, and the girl unwrapped her garrotte, wiping it clean on the pillowcase. The door opened and Dreykov looked inside, satisfied at her efforts.

"Good," he said, in Russian. "Your first official kill, your first entry in your ledger, before graduation. Your ceremony is tomorrow, and you will join your sisters in the field."

As the team came in to clean up the mess the red-haired girl went to the room where the cryo storage cylinder was waiting to be trucked to the airport. Looking around to see if she was alone, she pulled a box up so she could look at the Soldier inside. His eyelids were closed, and he looked like he was asleep.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'll never forget you. Good luck, старший брат.” (Older brother)

Austria, some months later

The sound of his cylinder door lifting made the Soldier open his eyes and he saw he was back home. Home, that word to describe someplace familiar, but it wasn't home, it was his prison. Roughly he was disconnected from the leads and tubing that kept him alive in his frozen coffin, then two large men dragged him out of the space, and down a hallway to the machine room. His skin and hair were wet from the melted layer of frost that had covered him. Dully, he looked up as a technician inserted a mouth guard in between his teeth and his chair reclined as the head piece came down over his face. Just before the pain exploded in his skull a word came to him. Misery, his life was misery.

As the Soldier's screams echoed down the hallway its new handler was looking over its file. Higgins, a former mercenary, had been read into his successor's failure to understand the limitations of the Asset. Knowing the previous handler, he knew it wasn't that simple. Prospero followed instructions to the letter, and he suspected the failure rested with a lack of understanding about the Asset by both his predecessor and Pierce. As a family man himself he knew his own limitations. Raping a woman or a girl was off limits to him personally but when it was called for, he had no qualms about delegating the responsibility to someone else. Knowing a little about the Black Widows he suspected the Asset refused to breed with the young girls before their graduation ceremony. Prospero's mistake was thinking he could beat the Asset into submission. Higgins wouldn't have even asked it of the weapon, just as he wouldn't use it to babysit a bunch of kids. No, a weapon was meant to kill, and he would make sure the Asset did its job quickly, cleanly and with no witnesses. Between missions it would train, be frozen when necessary, and be available for transport anywhere in the world.

A technician at the door advised him that the memory suppression treatment was complete. "Take it to its quarters, clean and dress it," he ordered. "I will be there shortly."

When he arrived at the room the Asset was standing, dressed in black; its titanium arm shining in contrast to the black cloth and leather of its clothing. It's eyes stared at a spot on the wall across from it, not blinking or moving from its gaze. Walking around it he took stock of its body. Six foot two inches tall, 220 pounds of muscle, not including the forty pounds of weight behind the arm. Its shoulders were broad, indicating massive upper body development, its waist narrow, and its thighs strained at the seams of its combat pants.

"I am Higgins," Pierce's man announced, as he stood in front of the specimen. "I am your handler. You will only speak when spoken to, and you will follow my directions to the letter. Do you understand?"

"I understand," it replied.

"What do you remember?" asked Higgins. There was confusion on the Asset's face. "Do you know your name?"

"Soldier," it responded.

"Soldier, do you remember Russia?" he asked.

"No, I have no memories before this moment," it replied.

"You don't remember why you failed in Russia?"

"No, I have no memories of Russia."

"You failed because you did not obey your orders," said Higgins. "Failure to obey orders will result in punishment. Failure to obey orders is unacceptable. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

Together they went to the dining hall and Higgins directed the Asset to sit. He filled up a tray with food then placed some of it before the Asset. When it began to eat Higgins beat it about the head.

"Did I order the Asset to eat?" he demanded.

"No," it answered.

"Don't eat until I tell you," stated Higgins.

As Higgins resumed eating his meal the Asset sat and waited for permission. When Higgins gave his consent, the Asset began eating, getting halfway through before the handler gave the order to stop. Standing up the handler put all the remaining food on his tray and slid the remains into the garbage can. For the next few weeks Higgins conditioned the Asset to only eat when given permission. It resulted in the specimen shovelling food into its mouth in a rush to feel full before permission was withdrawn. In Higgin's mind it was necessary to reinforce that orders had to be followed but it was noticed by medical staff that it also causing digestive issues resulting in the Asset vomiting from binge eating, receiving more punishment in the process. It was a never-ending cycle of abuse that only ended sometime later when a mission almost failed because the Asset had vomited so much it began throwing up blood and ended up receiving treatment for bleeding ulcers.

When Pierce removed Higgins from being handler, he came to Austria to see the Asset in his hospital bed. He looked at the pale man wondering what his physical limits were. The HYDRA doctors said his recuperative abilities were astounding but were better when his feeding was regular, and the injuries were not inflicted upon him as punishment but as part of training.

"What do you mean?" asked Pierce. "Punishment is punishment."

Pierce's gaze on the man was severe, as it seemed the man was criticizing Pierce's methods. "Punishment during training as a learning tool is useful," clarified the man. "Using punishment to control things which have nothing to do with the mission is counterproductive. Your handler had the Asset so worried about his next meal that he became fixated on food, instead of putting his energies into the mission. He accomplished the mission but almost ruined his body in the process. Give him support to do the mission to the best of his abilities and he will. Throwing roadblocks in his way to prove that you control him will only slow him down and take his focus away from the mission." Pierce did not look happy at the criticism. "Your handler referred to the Asset as "it" constantly. His memories were stripped away from him as was much of his personality, but he is still a biological organism. He is not a machine or an inanimate object. You want him to perform at a high level? Feed him, treat his injuries, fix his teeth."

Pierce breathed heavily then turned to leave the room. "Fix him," he said to the doctor, "and if you ever talk to me like that again, I'll make sure you become training material for the Asset."

The order was given to transport the Asset to the United States, to be based there. Pierce decided it was time he was more involved in the Asset's conditioning and treatment. There were a few trusted men that he assembled to form a team to handle the Winter Soldier. They would support him in the field, make sure he was fed, clothed, stored and resuscitated when needed. Upon reflection he had seen the wisdom of some of what that Austrian doctor told him, mostly realizing that entrusting the Asset's wellbeing to just one person wasn't wise as their treatment of him would be coloured by their own personal biases. He felt certain that the team approach would make better use of the killing abilities of their weapon.

Over the next few years that approach proved to be the right one as the Asset made more kills in the new millennium that in the previous 50 years combined. His observation and stalking abilities were better than any other operative out there. He became a legend in the ways he would disappear after taking his target down, then would go into cryosleep storage until the next mission. Pierce was confident that how they used the Asset from now on would serve to install HYDRA as the dominant force in the world.

On one mission the Asset was sent to intercept and eliminate an Iranian nuclear scientist. Already being protected by a SHIELD operative the two escaped Iran and were spotted by the Asset outside Odessa, Ukraine. With deadly accuracy he shot out the tires of the vehicle they were in, sending it over a cliff. As it came to rest on the ground below, he realized the occupants were both still alive and repositioned himself, watching as the operative pulled the scientist out of the car. Blocking his view to the scientist he knew the only way to finish the mission was to shoot through the woman protecting him. As he lined up the shot in his scope, he was distracted by the colour of the operative's hair. It was familiar to him, but he wasn't sure how or why. Taking the shot, he understood by the look on the woman's face that her mission had failed as the scientist was dead. Then, as he lined up to remove her as a witness, she looked in his direction, as if she could see where he was in his hidden position. Her green eyes seemed to be fixed on him, and a flicker of those eyes flashed before him, attached to the face of a fourteen-year-old girl.

"She got away," he thought suddenly, then he lowered his rifle and pressed his comms. "Target eliminated; witness eliminated."

"Return to rendezvous point," said the order from one of his handlers, in his earpiece and he backed out, then began his run back to where the covered van opened for him. The handlers took his rifle and other weapons from him. They returned to the airfield where he sat with his back against the fuselage of the aircraft as they flew on to the next mission or perhaps back to a safe house where he would be wiped and frozen. Staring ahead he barely listened to the handlers celebrating the mission, as if it was their success.

Keeping his face blank, he considered what he saw. The SHIELD operative was definitely the same girl who was a Black Widow in the Red Room. Perhaps she was a plant, but he discounted that as she was in a protective mode with the target. That meant she was able to escape the Red Room, able to escape from that life. If she could do it ... then maybe, he could also. For a brief moment he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time, hope.

If you liked this one shot, please comment or reblog.

>>Part 13

Series Masterlist

[wispisstillverybored67]

Die Heilige Sinfonie

It's almost cake time? Could say we're cutting it fine.

(You're NOT ready)

(Weak, unsteady)

(Is it petty?)

(Let me set this real...)

(You done lost it)

(Victim? No shit)

(Yet you claim I)

(Don't know how you feel?!)

Oh... It's Iggy. That's where he ran off? I wonder what for? The others are probably worried about 'em.

"You... What was all that about?" Best not make it weird 'til he inevitably snaps.

"Bahahahaha! Nothin' a human should know! Seriously, nothing to worry about!" He's... bad at lying. Or is he only good at lying when it's not important to him?

"I'm unconvinced. If it really were nothing, you wouldn't have shooshed out your brothers and sister like that. And not to mention you storming out like that... Is childhood really that embarrassing?"

"Again, Sil-chan... IT'S. NO. THING. Now shaddup about it!" Blegh... "Sil-chan"...

"Aw... Now I'm curious. Wait, don't tell me... This is about your... attitude changes, yeah?"

"My WHAT?! When did ya hear about that?! Ahahaha!" Now that was a more nervous laugh. He's cracking. I KNOW IT.

"Heh... I had a hunch you did. Don't think that because I used to never leave my room, that I didn't know anything."

"Oh really? Like what?" You're pushing your luck, Iggy. But if you insist...

"Lot's, actually... Let's see... Morton knowing how to bake, Ludwig not liking cats, Larry owning porn magazines, Lemmy wanting to express sadism in battle like the others, Roy viewing Wendy as his biggest weakness, Wendy not knowing how to swim... And you being-"

"Shove it already, Sil-chan! I told you to shut up about it!" Oh hey! He's actually pissed off at me! That's good!

"If you're that mad at me, you wouldn't be using that nickname. Though, I really don't see what's got you so ticked at me an' my curiosity. Is it really that bad?"

"..." Heh. Was only a matter of time before I got him to shut up. It's really that simple.

"As I thought. Hahahaha! ...Tell you what, though. We could strike a deal for this information." I told you I'm now curious.

"What's in it to you?" He snapped at me rather quickly. This anger radiating off of him... I like it. But I have one more wish... Will you cry for me, please?

"I do love my secrets... And for a dear friend's secrets? Mm! Delectable! Tell me... What do you think about letting me ask my questions... in exchange for tight lips on this? We could reach a mutual agreement... IF the feeling is mutual."

"Nope! No chance!" *sigh*

"As expected... Well, what do you suggest as favor? In exchange for this, I mean? I'm trying to help you, you know..."

"Fine! Tell me what's YOUR biiiiiiig secret?!"

"Hmph... Fine. Let's see... MY personality change didn't come from a day, either. Do you know that I'm also an accomplished explorer? Yes... One such treasure at the end of these excursions is what gave me this brand. It was a mask that reverses the wearer's personality for a day... But I hated being your laughing stock... Why, I was too shy, enough where all of you would make fun of me. So I provided some adjustments to it... lo and behold." Sounds like I was just pulling that outta my ass, but it's true. Heh...

"Really?! I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Oh my... Yelling already? That's what I like to see...

"Listen...  May I clarify and remind you that I'm interested in learning partially because YOU'RE so guarded for it, and because I legitimately WORRY what happened to you?"

"EVERYONE WORRIES YOU IDIOT!!" Woah. "Everyone's ALWAYS wonderin' 'What happened to you?', but they never EVER stop 'n think that they're part of the problem! Help you I'll help you I'll help you... Everyone says that, so WHY couldn't they help me?!" I... wasn't aware of this half of 'em.

"What's goin' on over there??" Oh god, that can't be Lemmy... WHY NOW?!

"Phew! Iggy I was worried about you! Why'd you-Oh hey Silvy-lady."

"We're in the middle of something here... Do you mind?"

"Well... What WERE you doing?" Fuck.

"Well..." Iggy you bastard! Keep your mouth shut! He thus brought the little one to tell him what happened last until now. "Really?" Yes Lemmy. Correct answer. Ugh!

You people are SO protective of each other it makes me sick! Why can't someone be violently protective to me too? Boring boring boring!

*bzzt* *klunk klunk* 

"Okay then... Silver." Flatly using my first name only... Ehe. "What do you think the secret is?"

"Hmm... Your dearly devoted little brother's room elephant is... How he was just too shy and pathetic as a child, am I right?" Again, I can hardly fathom why you two insist on keeping this a secret?

Lemmy was just stumped. Never saw his shocked look before. Iggy, meanwhile, was just... blank-faced. No anger, no bitterness, no sorrow, just... perfect stoicism. Hey... Maybe now my questions can be answered...! Oh man, this is really gettin' me excited!

"Couldn't you have guessed? Maybe you knew..." Nope, never mind.

"Never mind him... Come closer, be nice, and answer me, please... Just why are you so protective on this...?" Press up against your target. Look for any gaps in discomfort among participants.

"Honestly... Why the hell are you so interested in me...? It's so embarrassing, ya know? Hahaha..."

"I just know you're gonna falter... Heyyyy... How 'bout ya answer this question~?"

"?"

"You said no one cared 'bout you enough for that problem... Yet Lemmy seemed to know. 'Course, knowing and caring are two distinct things... So tell me... Does your little buddy care~? He's someone... so he counts under everyone...!"

"..."

"Of course... This doesn't follow if you were thinking of... something else. Were you and I thinking of the same thing...? Or maybe... You were thinking of... something else ENTIRELY~!"

"WHAT THE SHELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?! *woopsh!* Sorry!"

"...Aw. You broke my neck. I'll have to fix that later... How could you do a thing like that? How could you do a thing like that? How could you do a thing like that? How could you do a thing like that?" Make your way back to your target. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.

"*shove* When I was just trying to help your brother. When I was just trying to help your brother. When I was just trying to help your brother. When I was just trying to help your brother. When I was just trying to help your brother. When I was just trying to help your brother. I thought we were friends." And again, we meet our target.

"Listen, retard... If you're gonna be like that... Then I have ways of making you talk, Ignatius~ Your siblings are over there... yeah? How would you feel... if you had your nasty secret ratted out to the others...? That's gonna be your fate of mockery, if my guess is right. So why don't you just hurry up and tell me?! Why are you so into keeping this a secret anyhow?" His face was shadowed. He was facing downward, he was quaking a bit. That'll teach 'em...

"Fine."

What?

"Go an' tell 'em... Do what ya want... Just LEAVE ME OUTTA THIS...!"

"hEY-! IGGY SLOW DOWN!!! COME BACK!" Again... What? Just like that... Voice cracked, and BAM! He ran outta here! He's FAST.

"Well... Can't really say I told you so-"

"Lemmy?"

"Yeah?"

"Why couldn't you have just stayed out of this...? Or at least told ME something." I wasn't really mad, per see. Okay, I was a little mad. But no one has kept a secret away from Silver and LIVED. She's intelligent and charming enough to find it out.

"A secret stays a secret! What else was I gonna do?"

"Keep quiet about this? All I saw was him storming out of the fancy kitchen. Never the conversation content that was the tipping point."

"Uh... Sorry about the neck."

I just ignored him.

"Aren't you curious on why his childhood embarrasses him so...?"

"...I mean, I wouldn't hate knowing-"

"See? I'll wring him outta the secret if it's the LAST thing I do here..." Off to the castle indoors! I have a camera to see! Run run run! Ehe.

Why did I say okie doki to this?

[oathofpromises]

[ dip ] sender dips receiver at the end of the song - G'raha and Stella

Stella sighed, leaning her head against the wooden window seal. The night sky had returned to the first, which was such a huge accomplishment, yet her mind was solely focused on the Exarch, or rather G’raha Tia.A part of her always had a feeling that it was him, yet she doubted herself at every corner. Perhaps she was slightly hurt that he had kept such a secret, yet her heart refused to allow herself to feel such a way. He had his reasons..and she should be happy that he is here and safe.

Closing her eyes, the soft breeze brushed against her face. Everyone else was busy throwing a huge celebration, which they had asked the Warrior of Light to attend, yet Stella knew her heart wouldn’t fully be in it. So, instead of that, she was spending some time in her pendants chambers. A few of the scions had teased that she was acting like an old woman yet they weren’t entirely wrong.

The moment she was summoned to the first, there was a bright ball of light that landed right into their chest. At first, Stella thought nothing of it. Not like she hadn’t had worse happen to her before, yet each night she fell asleep, she would be met with memories—ones that weren’t exactly her own yet they were at the same time. It was confusing, and the more she tried to convince herself that it was just exhaustion, but her heart knew better.

Slowly, her gaze traveled down to her hands. They were shaking a bit as she grabbed onto them, trying to force any pain to subside. The light she had absorbed from each of the lightwardens was long gone, yet fragments of the pain she had experienced remained behind. The most apparent signs were the white highlights now adorning her pink hair. It wasn’t horrible, yet it was a constant reminder of the monster she had almost allowed herself to become. There was a moment, before they fought Emet, that Stella felt her consciousness start to fade, and what was worse was the fact that all the people she cared about were close. If she changed, all of them would die because of her. It was only thanks to Ardbert and Lady Exarch that Stella managed to gain control back.

The other was that she would still experience tremors from time to time. Most were manageable, but there were moments that left her hardly able to do much. It was hard to hide from those closest to her, but the last thing she wanted was for anyone to concern themselves with her. They had already been scared out of their minds at the prospect that she was almost a LightWarden herself.

Slowly, the Au Ra got up as she heard a soft knock at her door. It was late, and most everyone else was at the party, so who could be here this late? Once the door swung open, she saw G’raha there. Her body froze a bit, as it was still such a new thing to see him as the Exarch. The last time they had seen each other was the night he sealed the tower, and honestly, the woman hadn’t healed from that. The days they had shared prior were still etched so deeply into her mind.

“Raha…shouldn’t you be resting?” Whispered Stella, as she noticed him rubbing his arms. He looked more nervous than normal, which was new since as the Exarch he tended to keep his own emotions buried underneath everything.

‘I-I noticed you weren’t at the parties..I was worried you felt unwell and wanted to check on how you were feeling.’

Oh. Stella hadn't really explained why she wasn't taking part in the celebration, only that she needed some alone time. The Scions were probably considered as well, but it was G'raha who offered to come check on her. Running a hand through her hair, Au Ra stood aside to invite him into her room. It took him a few seconds before he finally stepped inside the room. Now that she thought about it, the two of them hadn't had a chance to talk since the kiss they had shared when he was the Exarch. It was right before they attacked the summit; she had no idea what might happen, so it was just a sudden thing. He said nothing before she ran off to join the other Scions, and then everything else happened all at once.

"Raha, I'm actually quite exhausted," she started to say before G'raha held his hand towards her. A gentle melody drifted in from the window before she noticed that soft smile form across his face. The same one she had seen so many times, before the other had sealed himself in the tower. The same one that could cause her heart to flutter and make everything else seem distant and unimportant He had so much sway over her emotions, and part of her wasn't sure how to feel about that sometimes.

He changed everything and made Stella long for things she thought were only a dream. She felt his hand slowly lift her chin to look up into his red eyes as she tried to look to the side.

‘Just one dance..that’s all I ask.’

Stella tilted her head. It was surprising enough that he was visiting her after sustaining a serious injury himself, and now he wanted to dance with her. Gently, she allowed her hands to intertwine with his as G’raha pulled her close. The soft music echoing from the halls drifted into her room. The light from the moon reflecting off them as they swayed back and forth.

“When did you pick up dancing, Raha? Last time we tried to do this, you stumbled over your feet a bit."

In a tender embrace, G’raha gracefully twirled Stella, their bodies moving as one. With every spin, their hearts beat faster, their souls entwined in a symphony of emotions. Drawing her nearer, G’raha held Stella in his arms, their bodies pressed together, creating a magnetic pull that defied the boundaries of time and space. Their foreheads gently pressed against each other, their breaths mingling in the space between them. A soft smile graced both their lips, mirroring the joy that danced in each of their eyes.

'Well, when a man has centuries to practice, trying find some way to impress the woman he cares about, he does improve. That night, we were so close, and my focus was solely on you. The way your laugh echoed inside my head How I wanted so badly to say so much to you, but... things happened."

Oh. The night before, he kissed her right before stepping back into the tower. The doors shut in her face after he muttered something against her lips. Stella was caught in a daze; she hardly had any time to process that it was his way of saying goodbye, despite the fact that his words indicated otherwise.

‘Tread safely guiding light.I’ll come back to you, I promise.’

They had no clue how long that would be, and here he was, an advisor to the crystarium. The people treated him as their leader, yet he never sought out such a title. Instead, he remained here, keeping his silent watch from up in the tower. Ultimately, he chose to hide his face from everyone, thus treading down a path that he thought would result in his death.

“I remember. We danced that night, and right before the doors shut, you kissed me. I had no idea when I would see you again. For days, I would make my way to that cliff overlooking the crystal tower. I was talking to myself, hoping you were there. I told you the reason why I am nervous when people touch me, right? How an incident from the past made me feel so isolated for the longest time, but you made me feel so many things and just left. I know it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to do, but I respected it because it was your choice."

That didn’t mean watching those doors close didn’t break her heart. Stella had already lost her parents, and since her journey as the Warrior of Light began, she had seen friends die too. All of it was so much pain, and yet she had never taken time to process all of it. To think about the hurt she has endured or the sacrifices made to help save the world. The damage that could do to anyone mind and body.

Gently, Stella felt G'raha dip her at the end of the song. His eyes held such gentleness before pulling her back towards him. It would be so easy to just let him leave after that, but her hand gently clenched around his wrist.

"I need to know...what are we to each other?"

Most would assume the two of them were a couple, and they had shared intimate moments with one another that far exceeded just being friends. Ever since that day, Stella had been left confused. She still remember how his lips felt against her own. The way she could feel tears fall from both of their faces It hadn't been easy on him either.

"I love you, G'raha Tia. Always have," whispered Stella as she allowed the tears to  fall.She wanted him to know just how deeply she cared for him. That his life was important to her, even if he had believed otherwise.

Love isn’t fate. Everything else may be fated to happen, but finding that one person.That was a choice they made for themselves.

[astromechs]

I was reading the post about how after IW Gamora's role is mainly focused on in terms of her relationship to Peter and Nebula and I think it pinpoints why I have felt uneasy with how vol 3 handled part of her arc.

Once we get into the holiday special/vol 3 it's like the slate has been wiped clean of any trace of 2018 Gamora. There are no pictures or items she left behind. There's no references to memories or things she had specifically done for the family(besides a comment from Peter). It's like her influence has no lingering presence. The only thing left is Peter's grief and Nebula and 2014 Gamora trying to be sisters again. This ends up treating her life and death as if they both never happened. This could maybe work if she had only been around for one movie but after 3 movies and she's still present in some way, there's something about it that feels like stripping away her humanity.

Approaching 2014 Gamora from a different standpoint wasn't bad but there is still a history that was created and that history should still be relevant. Not just for the guardians but for Gamora as well. To reconcile what had been beyond just one or two relationships. It's also important because the guardians weren't just a family. They were galaxy savers which was something she believed in with her whole heart. 2014 Gamora didn't have to have the same path to connect with that on some level. I would imagine this is probably why Gunn's comments about her finding her real family don't go over so well for some fans. There's nothing wrong with being family with ravagers but it does further remove her from the legacy of the guardians and that's something that should never be taken away even in death. It's also not great because I think this type of reduction occurs more often with women. They die or something happens and everything is reduced to one accomplishment and one relationship. Gamora was a hero. A friend, a lover, a sister, a mom to a little tree and a survivor. All of this should have been focused on in vol 3, especially after such a gosh awful death.

that's where the sticking point is for me, really; it's the erasing of her presence before infinity war, and erasing her importance to the story/to all these people involved. that's such a strange narrative choice, one, but also two, it sucks, on top of things (cough infinity war, endgame) that have already deeply sucked with respect to how gamora and her overall story have been handled.

and yeah, i'm just gonna say it — this would've never happened to a white male character. you know it, i know it, we all know it.

[caelumsnuff]

i find it kinda interesting that the similar-sized ~smaller fandoms I'm in (a certain twitch streamer, various interactive fiction pieces, certain DnD podcasts/shows), you're allowed to put constructive criticism in the main tags (obv hate will always get people riled up) of the work, but Redacted Audio fandom if you go 'Xavier only seems to have gotten introduced to die; we should have seen more of Lovely's difficulty after turning; Imperium!Asher & David's in Cataclysm felt like overpowered a lot (for a couple that weren't initially a thing in season one of Imperium) especially over Imperium!Milo & Sweetheart's current relationship, etc lol...people get upset, they block, no one interacts.

Idk if Erik deleting the Bright Eyes storyline just frightened people into rarely even offering slight notes (which I know some people were annoying about having an unlikable listener), but it's odd. Everyone seems hesitant to give this man anything but glowing praise for everything. Everything lol. He mentioned thinking of himself as a writer first and previously wanting to be an author, but I wonder if he would even be able to incorporate notes from a professional developmental editor (or even try to). I think he could accomplish a lot by even running plans through with a critique partner or two.

Isn't it odd? Ive been in a shit ton of fandoms, but ive never been in one that is like this staunchly anti-critique/anti-analysis. It's strangely cult-like in the way that voicing dissenting opinions, expressing differences in interpretations, or analyzing the work in a way that is more critique driven rather than theory driven gets you shunned. HUGE swathes of hate mail, death threats, suicide baiting, and so on and so forth for daring to not listen to the Word of God or not consuming the plots and messaging on a surface level. I feel like some of these people never developed critical thinking skills. Hell, this fandom will even hates on you for... liking the villians???? The purity culture in this fandom bro....

I do think the aversion to this stuff is bc of the bright eyes and fred situation, at least in large part. But iirc the reason those videos got deleted was because everybody was arguing over who was really in the wrong. I wasn't participating in redacted fandom spaces at the time, but i know the discord was up back then, so it probably has something to do with Erik actually seeing the bickering. No one can convince me he didn't leave the discord for similar reasons. He's probably not on tumblr or twitter or tiktok or ao3 or whatever fucking hellsite looking at our opinions. And shit, even if he was, that's on him bro. The idea that expressing dissatisfaction, dislike, critique, or otherwise not accepting being spoonfed how we're supposed to feel about the work is somehow going to make him delete content is wild.

Said it before, but if he's that sensitive about his work being critiqued, he should not be posting his art online. And i don't mean that in a mean-hearted way, if seeing people not like/critique your art makes you want to hide it or puts pressure on you to change it, you shouldn't put it up online. Protect yourself from the emotional distress yanno? That's one of the reasons i don't post my own drawings/paintings online. My art is very personal to me, and despite knowing im a very good artist, seeing someone not like it or make fun of it would hurt a lot. So i only post my fics online. At least for now.

Anyways, thank you for the ask. I totally agree, its interesting. And fucking weird.