#Someone get this man out of that sarcophagus and get him a gun

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Jake meta? On MY dashboard? More likely than you think. 

Been thinking a lot lately on when and how Jake was most likely formed as an alter. 

Sure, I enjoy the idea of him coming in later. After all, Steven is the first one Marc knows. We get to see when Steven shows up. He was pretty young. He grew up with Steven and doesn’t know Jake. 

I like the idea of Jake coming in during Marc’s early teen years when he starts to have problems with his father. Perhaps when he is sent to a psychiatric hospital or dealing with a bad therapist. Jake is the protector after all. He’d step in to help Marc out with this different type of trauma and pain. 

Or perhaps Jake was formed in the military. Marc had an off day, dissociated during a bad time and needed saving. Or even during the mercenary times during a tight spot. 

But judging from Jake’s gloves showing up in Cairo, the fact that I really think Jake was playing a part in the alps while fighting the village, and Jake’s Jakeness… Jake has been around for a while. He isn’t a ‘new’ alter that was formed during the show’s run. 

I want to propose a different option, just to explore it a little. I don’t know if anyone else has tossed this out there yet, but here it is. 

Jake was formed in the cave. 

DID is caused by intense trauma. Trauma that they could not handle and needed a different way to deal with. A way to protect themselves. 

So let’s look at their unique positions. Marc is a trauma holder. Possibly other positions too, but he holds the most traumatic memories. He remembers going into the cave. He remembers his mother beating him. He remembers bad things in the military/mercenary days. But he also admits that his memory is pretty fractured up. 

We don’t know how much Steven remembers of their childhood or growing up. We don’t know how much of what he remembers is real. We also don’t know if Steven was always active. There’s a good chance Steven went dormant during the military/mercenary years.   

What we do know is that Steven was formed a few years (1 or 2 judging from the birthday scenes) after his brother died. 

Marc was already sensitive. He was already traumatized. He had been belittled and emotionally abused for some time. Steven isn’t formed until Marc breaks down at the dichotomy of a mother he wants and a mother he has that wants to hurt him and needs someone there to take care of him. He needs someone to be hopeful and happy. He is always aware of Steven. He looks to Steven as an emotional protector. Someone to remind him why he lives. 

But what about the trauma that set it all off? The trauma of being in charge of protecting his little brother and failing? The trauma of telling him that it would be alright and then having to watch him die? The trauma of almost dying himself? 

A protector that failed. A protector that lost his only charge. 

Steven is there to guard Marc emotionally. We see this strongest when he breaks down in the street and can’t handle everything that comes with his mother’s death. Steven is there when Marc can’t be. He’s there to guide Marc and comfort him. To protect him when he’s vulnerable. To challenge bad claims and step up when Marc can’t. 

Jake is there to protect Marc. To save him. To save them. To do what Marc could not do in the cave. 

So, what if Jake was the first? What if Marc went into the cave with Roro and Jake came out? Does Marc remember what happened? In the flashback he sees them go in. Then suddenly they are standing in the living room. Marc comes down the stairs dressed up and ready to join the Shiva. He seems unsure of himself but he’s there. And then he’s surprised when it goes bad. When his mother screams at him. Maybe at that point he didn’t really know what happened. He only understood that his brother was gone. His mother is the one that puts a false memory into him that it is all his fault. He can’t remember what happened, after all, so he fills in the gaps and thinks she’s right. 

And Jake is there with the memory of what happened after. Of how Marc almost died too. Of how he got out. Of them pulling his dead brother out. Of Jake swearing he would never fail again. 

So why doesn’t Jake step in when their mother starts to beat them? Why Steven? 

Because what is a little boy going to do against his mother? There is nothing Jake could do. This was Marc’s pain. This was emotional trauma that Steven could help distract Marc from. If it had gone too far, if the body had been too badly broken, there is a chance Jake would have taken over and tried to get them out. 

It’s also possible that since Jake was the first, this is why he can hide so well from Marc. He holds the biggest trauma and he does not talk to Marc. He stays in the back. He doesn’t want to front at this point. He’s the type of alter that just likes to stay in the back unless really needed. And maybe in their teenage years Jake starts to peek out more and more. He becomes highly active in the military/mercenary years because he’s needed. He watches Marc become more and more destructive and he has to start protecting Marc from himself. 

When he failed in the desert and Marc almost died and then almost killed himself, Jake must have taken that very hard. He starts to slip in more often. He can’t just hide anymore. He starts to take missions. He starts to leave out hints of his presence. (See the gloves in episode two). He starts stepping in when Marc goes on a bender of self destruction. Jake will not lose another one, even if he has to protect him from himself. 

He watches Marc and Steven bond and he swears now he will protect them both. 

So when Harrow threatens them, Jake has had enough. He comes back from the Duaat pissed off to high hell and all he can think about is the damn cave. Being locked in the Sarcophagus and HEARING them in the cave. Marc could hear what Steven heard. He remembered as Steven went in and witnessed the flood. You know Jake could too. Trapped in that tight and dark coffin as he heard the screams and water rushing in. 

When Jake comes back, he is emotional. He is pent up. He is rage and refuses to fail. He can’t fail. 

And that’s why the final fight scene looked like a bomb went off. 

[yeyinde]

Hi! Hope you're doing well. I just have to say that you're my favorite writer and a huge inspiration to me. Everything you write, even the small little snippets, just make me so happy.

Are you by chance still doing the WIP snippets? Cause I go feral for Jacob Seed, and when I saw you had a WIP for him I can honestly say I almost fell out of my chair.

Hiya! This is so sweet!! Thank you so much 🖤😭

Jacob Seed is one of those characters who I'd very much like to chisel open. He's so intriguing. His ideologies are so unfounded but his conviction and his reasons for them are what I find really appealing.

This is quite a deviation from what I normally do—third person, technically no reader-insert (I kindaaaaa made an OC? Oops) a bit darker (dragging me back to my slasher roots), and pulls a lot from a pseudo-religious upbringing. It is really fun to write, in theory, but is one of those fics that is mentally taxing in the sense that every piece is part of a bigger picture. Despite that, though, I could probably talk about this fic more than any others because of all the weird influences it draws from—Siken (it was originally gonna be titled war of the foxes but I felt that was a little too on the nose so I changed it to wishbone which is even more on the nose), bible mythology (in particular, the warring interpretations of Abaddon, iyjyk but also??? Abaddon and Michael, though???? 👀), and um. Cult shenanigans.

Here is a little bit about it!

He's in her head now, a sickness polluting her grey matter until it's shaded the same colour as the burning auburn around his wicked mouth. The one that splits wide, and croons about her failures, her destiny, until the rasping slur of his words are skeined tight around her gyri. Festering like a cancer she can't clove. One that sounds more like a truism each time she hears it.

Jacob has his finger on the trigger of a loaded gun with the barrel pressed tight to her cerebellum. A tool, he said. One without a master. Until now. Until him.

She can't fight him. Can't get rid of him. 

She wonders if she ever even tried.

And for some Rook x Jacob (kinda sorta but in a weird and twisted way):

Jacob doesn't give an inch even with the barrel of her Whitetailer pointed at his heart. A beat, then, where the world around her seems to shiver at the smirk he sends her way, his own hand fixed, deadly and calm, on the butt of his garish rifle. Red. 

(Of course. Of course.)

He stands on his tower, a castle of rock in the middle of the Whitetail Mountains, surrounded by unfathomable wilderness, and the broken remnants of his wolf beacons, his fallen men. His Judges. 

They lay by her feet, discarded offerings to the man who vultured her sense of self, her agency, until the person she was before all of this was lost, collateral to a war she never agreed to. She feels it sometimes, the putrefying remains of idealism and hope clawing at her skull until the tissue shreds and bleeds. Feels it like a second degree burn, a scab she can't stop picking at, and then pushes it back into its sarcophagus. It's an effigial prison in which she's both a warden and cellmate. 

It rears, now, as her patent yellow boots sink into the ribcage of a man torn to shreds by her bullets, her fists, mourning the loss of who it once was—a person of empathy and compassion. Someone who would have recoiled at the sight of viscera staining her laces, bone crunching under the soles of her feet. 

But it's gone. All she feels is annoyance. Disgust. 

They rendered it out of her. All of them pulling and tugging until bits of herself ripped apart, left behind in their regions, in their hands. Faith holds her belief. John, her compassion. Joseph, her fear. And Jacob—

Well. 

She tries not to think about what she lost in his cages. The gaping hole where her humanity once sat is heavier now that it's empty. 

It doesn't matter. Not anymore. 

Everything has been culminating to this point. To this moment. She feels the weight of it, the truth, in her bones. Unlike John, unlike Faith, only one of them will walk away from this still breathing. Her fingers tense. A proxysm. 

She finds, as the sky fades back to an endless blue and the mournful call of a loon breaks through the coppice, that she isn't entirely sure she wants it to be her. 

"Everything, all of it, has been leading up to this moment," he calls down to her, answering the unspoken assertions that bounce around the bruised fibres of her head. Hunt. Kill. Sacrifice. She gets it. She hates that she does. Hates him, she thinks, even more for making her see, for turning her into his executioner so easily. "So, Deputy, what will you do?"

If it were Faith, there'd be something about the path. About choices. About submission and surrender. Giving up agency and self in the single-minded pursuit of devotion to the Father. John, maybe a taunt. A sotto voce about atonement and true self. Of life admit the torture. A baptism in pain. 

But Jacob is neither of them. 

"Are you gonna kill me, angel?" 

She thinks about it. Really does. Lets it grind down into her synapses as she imagines a world without him. A place in Hope County where they celebrate his death and burn his body on an altar, unwilling to let the cult take him back until he's charred bones and ashes. Sure, then, that he's gone. Forever. Always. No more. 

Jacob will burn. 

She thinks about it, and she shudders. 

It feels anticlimactic despite the effort he put into setting it all up. Moving beacons and men and cages and wolves. Tracking her down through the forest until she led them to the Wolf's Den, and put a bullet in the head of the only man who made her feel some sense of footing amid a crumbling world. A place that wasn't quite home but it was something. Purpose, maybe. 

It stands in sharp contrast to the dogfight between them. Jacob and his soldiers. A commander playing a game of war from the comfort of his sanctuary. They're gone, now, and she hates that she isn't, too. That no matter what she does, how open she leaves herself, he still lets her sneak up the side of his perch until she's crouched behind a log, until she can hear the weight of his footfalls as he searches for her across the blood smeared landscape. 

It's a fallacy. He knows where she is despite the engineered confusion in his tone. What was that? He asks. Come out and fight me, Deputy. You know I'll find you—

The red dot follows her, always just a few inches from where she's hiding. A farce. She hates it. Hates that he isn't really fighting her. A marksman, he said (hoorah), but the only bruises he gave her are in her mind. Mental scars. Stupid. She hates him. Despises him. 

(Hates herself even more.)

It feels like muscle memory when she peers over the ledge, her bloodied knuckles leaving smears of her fingerprints behind. He's there. Waiting. 

Killing Eli, killing phantoms. Killing men. Killing him. It all congeals in her marrow. Effortless. Easy. She's killed him so many times already that she's sure, now, she could close her eyes and find her mark. 

Over and over again, he turned to a nebula of dust when she jumped on his back, wrapping nimble fingers around his neck. Mocking words haunting her as he dissolved into the aether. The Father will protect me. You need me. Don't fight it. Just let go. You've served your purpose. Let's say you get out of this. What's next? You go back to running errands for a teenager and a housewife? You are nothin' without Eli. 

"Come out, come out wherever you are, honey," his crooning taunt makes her hackles raise. A part of her hindbrain prickles with unease. Jacob brings a certain terror out of those dormant depths—an atavistic fear coils around her jugular. "Let's finish this." 

She wants to end him. To kill and maim and bend and break until nothing is left but bones and tissue. She wants to ruin him. Wants him to ruin her. To end this conflict at the top of a precipice she never wanted to climb. 

She says nothing—not to him, to them—but scuffs her feet against the gravel for no reason other than to make him look. He whips around, hand steady on his rifle. 

"Finally done hiding, Deputy?" 

The red dot hasn't left her vicinity since she prowled after him, unleashing hell and gunfire on the men—his Chosen, his best—that tried to keep her away from him. Hiding, she thinks, and wonders if those words are a projection. 

The Whitetailer—the only anchor she's had since she found it laying behind in an abandoned cabin—hums under her fingers. Pulses with the blood rushing through her veins. It's always been heavy. An SA50 isn't easy to carry across a landscape she mostly ventured on foot (as the near constant ache between her shoulders can attest to), but it feels both heavier and lighter than before. Another contradiction of many since she walked out of the Den and into a world on fire. Since she slit his throat and watched him turn into cosmic dust. 

It's steady, though. Unwavering. There's a gash on her arm from one of his Chosen. A bullet in her thigh. The unhealed wounds—bliss bullets and arrows—twinge with pain when she tenses her muscles, breathes in deep. Her broken ribs scream. She feels like more like a throbbing contusion than she does an actual person, still caught in the tendrils of her conditioning where his voice echoes in her head, the last notes of a song that turned her world into ashes. Only youuu… he'd crooned.

Only you. 

Only ever you. 

She gets it now. 

Or, she wishes that were true. It isn't. It isn't because maybe she's known all along. Since the bunker. Since Pratt. One, two, three. One, two, three. And then he's got you. Since she blinked into cognisance surrounded by the fallen bodies of the militia who didn't survive the training, who had bullet wounds that matched the shots she took in Jacob's trial. 

Since she went back to the Grand View and walked through the rows of cages in the parking lot. 

She gets it. 

She knows what she has to do. 

Her grip doesn't falter when she aims up. Up. His stomach. His lungs. His heart. 

"You can't. You're done. You've served your purpose, and now it's time to accept your place, Deputy. Where you belong." 

She thinks of Tammy. Of Wheaty. There's nothing left for her. Not anymore. 

Nothing except—

She wonders if there's a flash of panic in his cerulean eyes. A brief flicker of fear. But all she sees is contempt. 

"If I die, you'll be lost forever—"

She pulls the trigger. 

[aurumacadicus]

The mummy au? 1999 one not the tom cruise

We refuse to acknowledge Tom Cruise on this blog

The war happens, and Tony’s parents don’t make it back from France, and then it’s... it’s just him, the last Stark, young and alone in a mansion that’s too big. The only good thing about the entire tragedy is that he gets to go to school to become a librarian, because it’s what he always wanted to do, but his parents would have never allowed it. There he meets Rhodey, in an Egyptology class, where they bond over the war changing their lives irreparably. When Rhodey comes back from an archaeological dig with a box and a map to Hamunaptra and sets it on Tony’s desk, Tony squeals and books them a trip to Egypt.

Rhodey does not mention that he technically got the box and map from Steve Rogers, who shoved them at him when he realized he was going to be arrested. It’s only after they get to Egypt that Rhodey sees Steve is still in jail (and about to be hanged) and says, “Um, we might need some help from a guy. His name might be Steve Rogers. He might have been arrested.” Tony stares at him. “Did he deserve to be arrested?” Rhodey shrugs. “Eh?” “Well, it’s not bad enough for you to be upset about it,” Tony reasons, and then he goes to the jail where Steve is and asks him to lead them to Hamunaptra. “I’ll do it on one condition,” Steve says, and then urges Tony closer. Tony holds his hat up so that it blocks view of them from the guards. “Yes?” Steve grabs him by the collar and drags him into a bruising kiss before he leans back and says, “Get me out of here.” Tony gapes at him as he’s dragged away. “Oh, I know that face,” Rhodey says miserably. They’re breaking Rogers out of prison.

Steve is actually pretty smitten with Tony. He’s fierce and he’s tough and at one point his gun ran out of bullets so he chucked it at Beni and it hit him right in the head. Steve is a sucker for fierceness and toughness. “So, uh, what’s Tony’s deal, got a wife at home or anything?” Steve asks Rhodey. “If you ever speak to me about this again, I will remove your head from your body,” Rhodey replies. Steve stares at him for a very long time before saying, “That’s not a no.” Rhodey actually has his hands up to strangle Steve when they hear someone shout, “No! You mustn’t read from the book!” and they both know, immediately and without looking, that Tony just did exactly that.

A high priest who calls himself Tiberius sees Tony, the spitting image of his past lover, and he decides that he’ll sacrifice Tony to bring his lover back to life like he’d promised before he’d been sealed in his sarcophagus. A man with a sword and a handsome face shows up to beat Tiberius back, and they flee. “Is everyone in Egypt handsome?!” Tony hisses to Rhodey angrily. “Keep running because I am not dying in the Egyptian desert because you read a fucking book,” Rhodey snaps back at him. “And keep it in your pants, Tony. At least until we’re sure we’re not gonna die.” “Are they always like this?” the man asks Steve. Steve shrugs. “I haven’t known them long, but it seems like it.”

They save the day eventually. “So, uh, I asked Jim, but he didn’t answer, so... You got a wife at home or anything?” Steve asks, rubbing the back of his head. Tony jerks his head from watching Rhodey and Bucky bicker about the best kind of beer in what looks like it could be flirting but could also be actual death threats toward each other. (God. He goes by Bucky. Why couldn’t it be something sexy like Ardeth or something like that.) “Huh?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “You? Got a wife or something?” “No,” Tony answers, confused. “Why?” Steve stares at him for a long moment, but apparently Tony really is that oblivious, he realizes. So he curls his hands over Tony’s hips and draws him in slowly, leaning down to swallow Tony’s startled gasp after he pulls him flush against his body. This time, Tony has the time to kiss back.

[lots-of-little-pink-clouds]

Black Cadillac Valentines

Summary: A oneshot explaining how the PC from Bloodlines knows the Prince of Tucson, Arizona, Lettow Kaminsky. Also, the Cadillac incident Dove tells you about at the beginning of VTM: Night Road.

Characters: Malkavian PC (VTM: Bloodlines), Heather Poe, Lettow Kaminsky, Dove, Sebastian LaCroix (mentioned).

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660233

February 14th 2005

Briar Rose rots under the sand.

An eagle makes its nest out of blue bones.

Father plucks the feathers from a lark's wings.

Beauregard Sawyer wanders the streets of Tucson, Arizona under the pale light of the moon. All around him, couples walk arm-in-arm on the sidewalk, smiling and laughing and exchanging gifts and kisses.

After arriving in Tucson and presenting themselves to its new Prince last month, Beau and his ghoul, Heather Poe, kept busy. Beau was convinced that something was here, something important. Ever aware of his moods, Heather looked at local real estate agents for a secure haven to live in while Beau began his search. She eventually found a small two-bedroom, one-bathroom basement apartment where the elderly couple who lived in the house above never asked any questions. They officially moved in three days ago.

Whether it was successfully moving in or because it was Valentine's Day, Heather wanted to celebrate and Beau could never say no to his Heather Feather. She was planning something, so he stepped out to give her time to set up.

Beau closes his eyes, readjusts his blue-sunset aviators, and relaxes for the first time in months. Los Angeles was a total bust, but at least its Jester Prince was dust and ashes. Hopefully whoever takes over will be able to clean up the mess the Ankaran Sarcophagus left behind. He takes a deep, calming breath.

The scent of smoke fills his nose.

She got in the wrong Cadillac.

His eyes snap open as he stops in front of the parking lot of a Marriott. He watches as a red-haired woman flings herself out of a burning black Cadillac, pushes herself to her feet, and takes off running past him.

"Isn't that the Prince's Seneschal?" he wonders. Beau's Sight doesn't grant him night vision, but he could swear her silhouette matched that of the hulking Nosferatu woman with the skull face that loomed behind Tucson's Gangrel Prince. Funny, he can't remember her name.

Looking back at the vehicle the woman just vacated, Beau spots a man in a wolf costume hanging halfway out of the driver seat window, screaming and clutching the bleeding remnants of his arm. Ignoring the human, Beau turns back to the woman, flames licking at her heels, as she runs out into the street.

At that moment, a car with its headlights off swerves around the corner at full speed and slams into her. Beau stares as she goes flying, hits the pavement, rolls, and is run over. The car stops and a man in a cream suit jacket climbs out and goes to check on her.

Eagle eyes scan the eastern horizon.

Not yet, he thinks.

He has to keep her safe.

"That's the Prince of Tucson," Beau realizes, bewildered. The Prince of Tucson, Lettow Kaminsky, helps the woman to her feet and pats her down to douse the remaining sparks of fire that cling to her clothes. Beau's attention turns again to the woman and, "Yep, that's definitely his Seneschal."

Then, because his night couldn't get any weirder, a jeep speeds around the corner that the Prince came from. Four heads stick out from the vehicle's open windows and point guns towards the Prince and his right-hand-woman.

Beau immediately ducks into the nearest alleyway, reaching into his hoodie's pocket for his pistol as the sound of gunfire erupts behind him. Screams fill the air. He peeks around the corner and spots the Prince and the Seneschal taking cover behind the Prince's car. The jeep swerves and comes to a stop, the Kindred inside clambering out and taking up defensive positions as pedestrians flee.

The wise decision would be to let them fend for themselves. The Prince and his Seneschal are both Elders. They would be fine. And after LaCroix and the debacle in LA, Beau's never held much stock in the Camarilla or any of its rivals. Kindred and Kine are the same in that sense - both will do whatever it takes to attain power. However...

Father's flock frays and turns to dust.

A lark stretches her wings to embrace the dawn.

Decision made, Beau leans around the corner, raises his pistol, and fires, just missing the head of one of the attackers. Immediately, the person calls to their fellows, drawing attention to the new challenger shooting at them. Their voice cuts out as Beau finally hits his target, the impact knocking them back on the pavement and stunning them.

"Shame that Kindred are so resilient," he thinks. He ducks around the corner again as the other Kindred focus on taking him out. Sticking his head back out as the assailants reload, Beau catches the Prince's eyes and gestures to him.

"Come on! This way!"

Then he steps out from the alley and continues shooting. He watches as the two share a look. The Seneschal finally nods and then they dart out from behind the car, dodging fire as they go.

Beau feels a bullet tear through his gut. He grimaces, throwing himself around the corner and back into the alleyway just as the two Camarilla members reach him. The Seneschal covers them, turning around and firing at their attackers with extreme prejudice.

"Evening Prince," Beau says, using the wall to push himself back to his feet.

"You are... Beauregard, correct?" the Gangrel asks.

"Yeah. My ghoul and I moved here last month." Beau puts a hand over the wound in his side to staunch the bleeding. "I know a place you can hide until they're gone. Or until dawn, whichever comes first. This way." He starts jogging down the alley. Lettow and his Nosferatu companion follow as the shouts of their pursuers ring out behind them.

"Who were those guys anyway?" Beau asks.

"Remnants of the Sabbat that took advantage of the turf war," Lettow replies.

Beau heard about that. From what little he learned from LaCroix and afterwards from rumors, Tucson's Camarilla was embroiled in a turf war. It started four years ago, when the old Ventrue Prince sought to purge the city of the riff raff. That is to say, every Kindred not part of Clan Ventrue.

Many people took offence to that.

Some rebelled, others fled. The Prince's childer took it as an opportunity to latch onto any form of power they could get their hands on and began fighting each other. Soon, they too were as much of a target as the other clans the Prince warred against.

Then in the midst of all that, the Sabbat arrived - led by Beau's sire, LaCroix always loved to mention - and made everything exponentially worse. It was every Kindred for themselves up until Lettow killed the old Prince and took over.

"We need to lose them," the Seneschal says. Footsteps pound on the pavement behind them, the Sabbat giving chase. The Nosferatu huffs, fists clenching white around her gun as she shoots behind her.

A dove with clipped wings and no other place to go.

"We'll find a way," the Prince replies.

"My haven's not too far," Beau says, "If we can shake 'em, I'll lead you straight there."

"You sure we can trust this guy?" the Seneschal asks. Beau feels the Gangrel Prince's sharp eagle gaze settle on his back.

His eyes see all, a gift from someone dear to him.

"For now," Lettow replies with certainty. Then to Beau, he says, "I do not take betrayal lightly. For your sake, you will uphold your end of the bargain."

"And if I don't, you'll dust me?" Beau laughs. "Sounds like someone I used to know. But you don't have to worry, Prince. I always keep my word."

With that, Beau leads them through Tucson's twisting alleyways, letting his feet and the voices tell him which way to go. He guides them through narrow streets and over roof tops, the Sabbat slowly falling behind. The trio eventually lose their pursuers completely when Beau stops, grabs the Seneschal's muscled bicep and the Prince's sleeve and lets the tingles of camouflage cover all three of them. The Sabbat run past none the wiser.

They wait for a time as the confused shouts of the other Kindred gets farther away. Approaching police sirens scare off the remnants. Only after the cops pass does Beau drop the camouflage with a heavy sigh.

"I think we lost them," he says.

"We should get somewhere safe in case they come back," the Nosferatu adds. The Prince nods and turns to Beau.

"Does your offer of sanctuary still apply?"

Beau shrugs. "Sure, why not. It's been a weird day. Night. Whatever."

He leads them back through the maze of alleys. Without the hassle of being tailed, the trio make it to Beau and Heather's haven without difficulty. Beau takes out his key and unlocks the door, leading them inside.

"Beau?" Heather's voice calls from the kitchen, "Is that you?"

"It's me," Beau replies, closing the door and locking it.

Heather rushes to him, red hair whipping behind her. Beau catches her, stumbling backwards as she flings herself at him.

"I missed you," she says, hugging him. He smiles and pats her back.

The Prince coughs, interrupting the moment. Heather quickly lets go. Her face flushes as she recognizes their guests.

"Ran into some friends. They needed a place to stay a bit," Beau shrugs, taking off his aviators and tossing them onto the hall table. "Hope you don't mind. I know you had plans."

"No, no, it's fine," she replies, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shuffles in place, wringing her hands. "Um, Beau?"

At her tone, Beau pauses. "What did you do?"

She bites her lip. He crosses his arms.

"... I caught a fish again."

Beau blinks. Then, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Feather, remember what I told you last time you did this?"

"I'm sorry," she deflates. "But we just moved in, and I wanted to get you something since you've been so stressed lately."

"And I appreciate it, I really do, but it's still super dangerous. What if you got caught?"

Her silence is telling.

"You got caught."

"... I caught two fish."

"Please Heather, please tell me you didn't use the shovel."

She swallows and braces herself. Beau throws his hands up.

"Feather, you know how I feel about the shovel!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Just... Just go," Beau rubs his eyes, desperately wanting to scream. "Where are they?"

"I locked them in the guest room..."

He waves her off, exasperated. He watches her disappear into the living room before turning to their guests. "Are you two hungry? I've got bagged in the fridge, and you're welcome to that, but I gotta take care of this mess."

The Camarilla members stare at him. Beau glances between them.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"See," the Seneschal finally says, turning to Lettow, "I told you he was a Lunatic."

"Come now Dove," the Prince sighs, "That is no way to speak to our host."

"Oh right," Beau thinks, "Her name was Dove." Then the rest of her sentence registered.

"Lunatic, huh? That's a new one."

"It's the eyes," Lettow says. "Because of your sunglasses, it was hard to tell. I believed you were Toreador."

"Huh." Beau pauses. "I honestly don't care either way. Let others see what they wish to see, the truth is always obscured." He shrugs. "But enough of that, we did a lot of running earlier. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Dove replies.

The Prince agrees. "We will make do."

Cold and slimy and unfulfilling.

Blood bags don't provide enough subsistence for Kindred. The ones who subsist entirely on them are either desperate or clinging to the remnants of their humanity. Most prefer obtaining their fill directly from the source. With this in mind, Beau extends another olive branch to them. The voices whisper that something good will come of this relationship.

"If you want, you can help me with the fish," he offers. The two look at each other.

"Fish?" Lettow asks. His lips twitch into a small bemused smile. A dubious expression crosses Dove's face.

Beau grins as he leads them to the guest room. He stops by the closet and pulls out the shovel he and Heather own, hauling it over one shoulder before continuing on. Dried blood sticks to its metal blade.

"Yeah, fish. But not literal fish. I think you'll like it."

[ambered-glazed-sheep]

Please do go on about Doomslayer and his morals. I'm legit fascinated by him since starting the let's play I'm watching and I'd love to hear your take on him (I know literally nothing about the Doom franchise other than lots of blood and violence against demons and also badass music)

You know, a year ago when my friends asked me 'hey do you wanna play minecraft' and i said 'yeah sure' i would have never thought i would one day have a minecraft sideblog where i get questions about the personality of the main character of a shooter fps game (of all things!) that is known for its incredible violence.

But here you go:

(prepare yourself this has gotten way longer than i thought oh god, and also it has nothing to do with hermits whatsoever. warnings for language and descriptions of violence? and i assume the readmore won’t be working the way i want it to)

Ok so, Doom!

First of all, i know nothing about the old games, and i’ve only seen a minimal amount of Doom Eternal Letsplays. Most of this is based on Doom (2016). 

Ok so we all start out thinking Doomguy! It’s the guy you play in Doom. The hand that hold the gun YOU are shooting demons with. And sure, you can go trough the whole game with that mindset, but that’s boring and we are overthinking fictional characters in this house.

ID software actually managed to give Doomguy/Doomslayer a TON of personality despite him never saying a word, barely any cutscenes to show what he does when you don’t control him (at least in Doom 2016), and not a lot of other characters to interact with despite enemy monsters.

The game just leaves you little hints and snippets and that’s what makes Doomslayer so exciting to think about. Just the right levels between ‘cryptid half-god who never shows emotion and is a player-insert’ and ‘this dude’s got an AGENDA. he has PLACES TO BE’. You are him as you play, but sometimes he makes decisions on his own. But personally, i could never find myself to disagree.

First, you got the intro sequence. 

You got a unknown voice telling you: 

“They are rage. Brutal, without mercy. But you. You will be worse. Rip and Tear, until it is done.”

First of all, YO. WOW. HOLY SHIT.

The scene immediately shifts to Doomslayer waking up. He’s naked, he’s chained down somewhere, theresa SHIT TON of scars littering his arms and hands. First thing HE does, on his own behalf, is ripping off the chains by flexing a little (literal iron chains!!!), smashing a zombies head against the sarcophagus he lays in and completely obliterating said head into a bit of blood (mind you, three seconds after he woke up from a thousands of years long coma!! but we only learn that later), and then promptly gets up, picks up a pistol, and now it’s your, the players turn. This takes like 8 seconds in total. This man means BUSINESS. That’s the first thing we learn.

Second thing that strikes me is the interactions with Samuel Hayden. 

Doomslayer is patient when a computer voice tells him the status of the base. He is patient as he looks at the screens to see what is going on. (a demonic invasion, thats what). But then dear Dr. Samuel Hayden calls. 

Dr. Hayden says “Hi, i’m the boss here, i’m sure we can work together in a way that benefits us both uwu”. Doomslayer immediately grabs the PC screen and pushes it aside. His gesture says, i’m done with this. im sick of this dude. this guy is full of shit. And he’s right! And that after barely hearing two sentences from Hayden!

So the second thing we learn is that he has no time for people trying to exploit him. He hears Hayden, he has a gut feeling that this dude is a little fishy, maybe he just plain doesnt like higher ups and heads of facilities. But we learn that he IS. NOT. going to listen to this man, and his body language makes that very clear without being actually violent against the person (he doesnt destroy the Screen either! just pushes it aside very annoyed. He isn’t mindlessly destroying property here.)

This continues. 

Hayden goes ‘hey maybe don’t destroy that energy source!’ in the few seconds you dont control him, Doomslayer listens. He hesitates. He considers. Then he destroys the thing anyways. Hayden keeps telling him to stop, but Doomslayer doesnt listen. He’s got his own mind!

This was mostly about Haydens Company, the UAC, harvesting hell energy, and hurting people in the process. 

There’s a scene where Doomslayer rides an elevator. Hayden, over the comms, tells him that everyone that has died in the demon attack was a nacessary sacrifice that will bring a new future or some shit like that. the camera pans down to show some poor sods corpse at those very words. Doomslayer cracks his knuckles. he is NOT HAPPY about that, so we know he doesnt like it when human lifes are sacrificed. He destroys the communicator, so he doesnt have to listen to Haydens voice telling him lies and trying to sway him anymore. 

(then he takes out his shotgun, the doors open, metal starts playing and the doom logo is shown, but that’s more about making the player feel epic than showing doomslayers personality,,)

Now i would like to talk about VEGA, the AI that controls the mars facility. 

VEGA occasionally talks to us/the Slayer. He is very straightforward, tells us what to do and why to do it, and is generally very polite. In the story, Doomslayer listens to Vega. 

Now why does he listen to VEGA but not Hayden? 

I think it’s because Hayden tries to get him to do things that just benefit him, and Hayden is very manipulative in his words (or tries to be lol), while Vega just says (if you destroy this thing, that door will open. I think Doomslayer appreciates it when people are honest to him.

And in the end, Doomslayer on his own decides to save a backup of VEGA. VEGA didn’t ask him to, Doomslayer did that on his own. It’s not relevant to his mission, he doesnt need VEGA to go to hell to close portals and whatnot. But he does save him. Why? I think it’s because he cares. Because he’s come to like VEGA. Because Vega didn’t try to manipulate him and screw him over. 

Next up is the Slayers Testament. 

These are a bunch of writings/recordings that you find scattered in the hell levels. (i highly recommend listening to them/reading them, they are metal as fuck and give me such an immense feeling of power bc they are talking about me, the doomslayer)

These testaments were written by demons. They were genuinely afraid of the slayer. 

Quote:

Unbreakable, incorruptible, unyielding, the Doom Slayer sought to end the dominion of the dark realm.

As said, i don’t think these are purely talking about his physical strength. They are talking about his... well, mentality. His Codex. They see him as an unstoppable force. He is incorruptible. Let that sink in. Man walks trough hordes of demons and at no point ever thinks ‘yeah maybe this is a bit much’ or ‘they just keep coming this is pointless’. No. He’s unyielding. (Can you tell how much i love the words in these testaments? It’s just got such a nice ring to it.)

In battle, the Doomslayer is BRUTAL. He tears apart demons, rips their eyes out, all that. He stomps on heads like they’re water balloons and isn’t fazed at all. Nothing stops this man. (except players like me who fall off the map 5 consecutive times, but lets just imagine the doomslayer is actually like he would be if someone played the game perfectly. player skill shouldn’t be considered in my headcanons jahdjhgd) One could even argue he has fun at this, because there are some animations like ripping off a zombies arm and beating the Zombie with it, or feeding a demon it’s own heart.

I feel like that says a lot about his personality as well!

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t doubt himself. He doesn’t question his cause! He fights to get rid of the demons, not just the ones in his way, but every. demon. He will go out of his way to kill more demons. You could either take this as him having fun, or him following his own moral codex to get rid of every demon, or him being a not-quite-human war machine, or wanting to protect humanity from them. 

I would say it’s a healthy mix of all that :D

In older games, there was this whole backstory snippet of him returning to earth, finding that the demons had invaded his planet but also killed his pet rabbit (Daisy), and he then goes onto a 2-game long revenge trip.Take that as you will.

The last thing i would like to mention is this post.

Please watch the video. Doomguy walks trough the rows of random human guards. This is the walk of a man who doesn’t owe them SHIT. Yes, he wants to save humanity. Yes, he cares. But he also knows who he is. He knows what he did, and what he will do. He doesn’t have to justify himself in front of these shady scientists and jerky guards.THEY owe HIM, in fact. This video emits the sheer CONFIDENCE of someone who has walked trough hell multiple times and knows none of these people could even touch him. Yes, he would never kill them. He would not harm humans. But he doesn’t care about making them uncomfortable with his presence, either. He doesnt ask for permission.

(i think by now i am using the exact same words they did in that post. really, its worth the read. i think there’s a lot of repeated things between this post and that post by now but i encourage you to watch that video. its worth it.)

Also, the impact he has on the people in this room! they trip. they walk backwards. they go quiet, stutter. they are intimidated. They know he’s technically here to help and save them, but now, standing in front of them.... just wow. it really puts things into perspective. it tells the player that all the demons that he’s killed, all that the doomslayer has done... its noted. it has an impact. 

I’m not really sure where i’m going with this anymore, but watching those NPCs react to the slayers presence just adds so much more to his character. it tells us how people see him, and boy.... do they see him. 

i think it also ties a lot into how the player is made feel, controlling doomguy. all these head stomping and limp tearing animations, the guns, people being scared, watching doomslayer destroy important equipment from first pirson or pushing open doors or whatever... it just gives me such an immense feeling of power! i can’t even describe it. (...it also has nothing to do anymore with the original question but holy shit did i love playing doom for the sheer atmosphere of it. despite me being horrible at playing.)

(at the end of this i’m realizing that all of this never addressed if doomslayer is happy and content murdering demons, or if he just wants his peace and quiet but can’t help himself every time he sees a demon. i would propose to leave that up to headcanons. mine is a mix of both but in a way that makes it not angsty. like he loves to have his calm moments, but is just as happy to rip some demon’s spine out. probably gets a little itchy and impatient if he hasn’t fought in a while.)

also if you’re interested in game design and way more professional people talking about why doom 2016 is great i reccomend this documentary

...anyways it’s past 1am and this has gotten way out of hand but

tl;dr: the doomslayer is metal as fuck, he has a lot of agenda he is following, and i love him so much

[munsonsduchess]

So. I re watched The Magnificent Seven again because I’m at home self isolating until my housemates covid test comes back in a couple days so I made some notes. Presented below as I watched the film … again

Teddy looks like he wants to say something to encourage Matthew not to speak but like he just can’t find the courage to speak up

Everyone turning to stare at Sam as he rides through the town. Like they aren’t used to seeing a man of colour make something of himself.

The bartender who tells Sam they don’t serve ‘that kind’ as a direct insulation that they don’t serve Sam’s kind. Which could have just been because Sam is a lawman and the barman is an outlaw but could also be more than that

Faraday isn’t as stupid as he looks. He knows exactly who Dan is and what Sam’s purpose was. He could tell something was happening and was ready in seconds with a gun drawn to help Sam.

He sticks around after everyone runs out because he knows Sam’s occupation and seems to want to know more.

Emma has obviously been searching for someone who could help for a long time. Teddy stopping her from talking to Sam and her acceptance seems to imply that they’ve spoken to people before but that no one has taken them seriously. Maybe because Emma is a woman

Emma is clearly ready to offer up anything she can to find ‘righteousness’. It also seems like she’s more than ready for a fight.

Sam had decided upon hearing Bouge’s name that he would take the job and then when Emma shared her convictions he knew he could pass off his intentions as unselfish if anyone asked

Faraday cheats at cards and is scared of the dark confirmed. He’s also clever enough to use his wits to get out of a situation when he’s seemingly at the mercy of two other men

Faraday has issues around killing people. He clearly shows remorse for his actions. He doesn’t seem to like violence but he’ll use it to get what he wants if he needs to

Does Faraday know who Joan of Arc is?

He’s also apparently willing to throw his life away for strangers

Emma is not here for your shit

Teddy is a good boy and he’s here to help his friend on her vengeance quest as all good friends should

Vasquez wants Sam to know that he’s not the type of man who kills in cold blood. He uses Emma as leverage because a white woman’s death will look worse for Sam

Sam offers to tear up the warrant to get Vas on his side but I have the feeling he would have done it anyway

Vas taking a minute to decide and figuring if he works with Sam there’s a possibility of him going free and not having to run anymore

GOODY! That hip swagger

“That’s ok son you just pay me double” Goody is a respected member of the community and his reputation proceeds him so there is a level of fear there at offending him or anyone associated with him

Faraday is clearly interested to see how people react to or behave around Goody. To see how the man stacks up to the story

Goody very interested in who Faraday and Teddy are and what they have to say. Putting them off their game by speaking in the middle of the saloon while he’s getting a shave

“I keep him employed and he keeps me on the level” clearly Billy has been helping Goody with his demons far beyond what we see later

Goody and Sam being friends warms my heart

That good old southern breeding. Goody can’t resist being charming

“Ain’t no such thing as a Texican” that’s one hell of a loaded statement right there

“This is not going to end well” couldn’t have said it better myself Goody

The Famous Pigeon Brothers who weren’t famous for very long

“I believe that bear was wearing peoples clothes” Joshua the man was snuck up on in the dead of night, had a boulder smashed over his head and has been tracking the culprits for two days. I don’t think you’d be in your right mind either

“Don’t call the alligator big mouth till you cross the river” Goody just has all the best advice

IT’S MY BOY!

There’s obviously something Faraday is trying to drown in all that whiskey and Teddy knows it which is obviously why he tells Faraday to keep it

Emma doesn’t trust Farday at all

Goody knows what’s up although he’s not one to talk about the battle behind him

MY SON! HE’S SO PRETTY I WANT TO CRY

Sam giving Vas the gun so he’s less threatening to Red. Same way he left his gun outside when they went after Vas

I love that Martin cut his hair off to be historically accurate but damn what I wouldn’t have given for a long haired Red in this movie

Peace offering or trolling? Both? Both.

“Yeah ok I trust you now”

Can I also say I love how Martin learnt to ride bareback for the historical accuracy? Like historical accuracy is my jam. Now I just wonder how accurate the costumes are

“Oh good it’s a black man and an Asian man quickly call your children inside for who knows what havoc they might bring”

I do love how the racism is never as overt as someone using a slur but it’s always there just under the surface

“Manservant? Really?”

Did they practice how they were going to come into town and look imposing or do they all just instinctively know how to pose? I know Goody does anyway

I cannot keep a straight face when Farday calls himself the worlds greatest lover

Sam has no time for these Blackstone men and I am here for it

Sam’s horse is just called Horse

Goody having PTSD flashbacks before the shooting even starts since he’s clearly triggered by just the situation

A western staple where the bad guys always miss and the good guys never do

At times like this Mal Reynolds comes to me speaking words of wisdom “shoot the man not the horse, a dead horse is cover, a live horse is a whole lot of panic”

Faraday and Vas being very gay and poor confused Red like “tie him up what?”

“Lincoln like the president” and goody just “oh damn”

Someone please give Emma a better shirt. She’s gonna spill out of that one

“Seems I was the only one with balls enough to do so” damn right you were

Emma just breaking down when there’s no one around to see her use she has to be strong

“Fame is a sarcophagus” “what’s a syllable?”

TABLE MANNERS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TABLE MANNERS

Goodbye to the working girls the town isn’t the same without them

Emma has a better shirt! She still looks like she’s gonna spill out though

Shooting lessons with Goody and Faraday

“The way of northern aggression”

Billy’s class just running away because he’s way too good

“Make me some eggs”

“GET SOME GRAVEL IN YOUR CRAW!”

Faraday trying to goad Goody into proving himself. Sam’s wariness and Goody turning around and showing Faraday just why he got the title he did despite the reasons why he doesn’t pick up a rifle anymore

Do any of them know what Jack is talking about?

“So far so good”

We’re to assume it’s Goody picking off Bouge’s men at the mine since he’s the only one who could make those sorts of shots which means Sam has talked him into doing it even though he’s seen what happened to Goody during the initial fight

“I’ve always wanted to blow something up”

The look on the faces of the people who live in town as the miners come through. They’ve always lived separately from these men and now they’re forced to look at their faces and see just how they’ve all been living

Sam putting the dynamite in the hotel like it’s no big deal

Poor Peter Skarsgard. He’s the bad guy or the poor Dad in a horror movie while his dad is spooning Colin Firth on a boat in Greece

“I worked for my money. I wasn’t given a million dollar loan. I’m a good guy”

Emma can shoot just fine. She does not need you Faraday

“I had a father thank you” “I didn’t” proceeds to show off as if to prove himself

“They say the nightmares never go away” no they really don’t ask Goody

“Avenge me!” Yeah faraday it’s not that hard

“I am to fight” “it comes to that and we’re all dead” excuse you Sam but Emma is the one who brought you here and she’s the one who’s been raring for the fight since the beginning but sure put her with the women and children

I’m also so mad they cut out of the scene of Vas and the school teachers kid talking

“I have three Maria’s!”

I’m afraid of owls too goody you aren’t alone

TABLE MANNERS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

How long had Bouge been in Rose Creek and making the residents live in fear? That it had to be the seven who were able to show them how to live their life again

Those loose white shirts though 👌🏼

Squinting into the sun as the realisation dawns

Sam knows Goody better than Goody knows himself and Goody knows Sam better than Sam knows himself

Sam doing his best to help his friend with his PTSD but Goody just can’t

“It looks like he’s started to drink” that’s because Goody was his friend his best friend and there are untold emotions and god knows what else between them and now that man had left but not just that but left him behind is torturous

“I’m hungry” You little shit!” Red Harvest. Professional Troll

Sam seeking refuge in what’s left of the church. Feeling the proverbial noose tightening as he clutches at his neck

Emma reminding us what this whole endeavour is for. How it all started. How it’s going to end

Bouge sitting back because he’s sure his hired men will be enough. He’s never faced opposition before so he’s confident he still won’t. Or at least that his money will solve all his problems

Also if Red only wears his war paint for special occasions and if he was tracking the group prior to joining them does that mean he put his war paint on specifically to talk to Sam

Another man in Goody’s spot in the bell tower because presumably he’s the second best shot with a rifle or the only other person they could trust up there

A+ use of Fox holes though

Jack reciting his prayers as he goes absolutely feral

Faraday’s happy little smile when he finally gets to blow something up

Jack trying to help as many men as he can, men who are fathers, husbands, good honest men

Bouge who doesn’t seem to care one ounce that the people in the village are being slaughtered and bringing the battling gun out just for extra overkill

“You ok güero?” “So far so good”

“We still have men there sir” proof that Bouge does not care one single ounce for human life that isn’t his own

That rebel yell

“The devils breath” I can only imagine how a Gatling gun got that name especially from a war vet who’s likely seen countless friends allies and enemies alike be blown down by this devil

Faraday being concerned for the children even though he’s injured himself

Jack protecting Teddy at the cost of his own life. Defiant of Denali to the end But accepting his death with a sigh believing in his faith that he’ll be rewarded in heaven and reunited with his family

“I knew you’d be back” Billy has so much faith in Goodnight and I’m gonna cry

Emma with an empty gun putting herself in front of an injured man between the injured man and Denali

Denali ain’t shit!

“You’re a disgrace”

“My daddy used to say a lot of things” these two I cannot cope

“I might need a new vest” Faraday you reckless idiot

“Hit the steeple”

“I got him!” “Oh Goody” I’m not crying you’re crying

I know there’s a lot of talk about Chris Pratt being the worst Chris but he was so good in this movie I swear. Which yeah I know doesn’t change anything but when you see him playing Faraday in that last scene where it’s all down to him. I can’t

“I’ve always been lucky with one eyed jacks”

Nope definitely not crying. Not me

Bouge’s complete disregard for human life as he surveys the town

Bouge V Sam

“If god didn’t want them sheered he wouldn’t have made them sheep” says a man who feels no remorse at all for the blood on his hands

This time it’s Bouge who’s going to feel the noose tighten and I am here for the cinematic drama of it all

God won’t save you now Bouge. Run into the church you like. It’s not going to help

“Ask for forgiveness” The reveal of the rope mark. What Sam has been doing in Rose Creek this whole time. Why he took the job at the mention of Bouge’s name

[devilbat]

The Mummy

Warning: violence, guns, implied smut. Getting handsy.

James Conrad x reader. (This is My first James one shot)

A/n: another one to add to my classic Movie monster AUs Tom Hiddleston character. 

Happy Halloween 🎃

           This was your first real big break as a archaeologist. You had always been at the desk in the museum working on and restoring old artifacts. When you heard that your predecessor was ill and couldn't not make the Journey to Egypt. You jumped at the chance. Begging him to let you. At first he didn't want you to go. Being you were a woman and a lot could happen during this time and age. With a lot of convincing and arguments, you were on your way with his long time buddy James Conrad a former British army SAS Captain. Now freelance bodyguard as you put it. He was not what you were expecting. When you met him. You were bubbly and looking for Adventure. He was bruty, always on Guard and seemed to be annoyed all the time. Well at least around you.

        Handsomely overly attractive how could one man be that rugged, ruff around the edges and still be so damn hot. His jawline line was sharp with a bit of stubble. Oi and let's not forget his deep velvet smooth English accent, could make your panties drop with just one word. He was getting on your nerves. You could never stray to far from him. The first night in Egypt, you just wanted explore the rich culture, the food. James had other plans for you. As you were set to stay in the hotel room until dawn. When you would embark the long travel by camel to the valley of the kings.

            To say you were hot was understatement. The camel that was unpleasantly jilting you around on, had this obsession to nip at you ever chance he got when you weren't paying attention to him. Let's not forget he had bit of a smell to him. If you had a hose and some soap he would, damn well get a bath. The long days turned in to short moments of coolness from the heat of the sun. You had decided to name the stupid animal after one of your ex's just because he was acting as an ass. When your group stop to rest. You complained about you ass hurting and in need of a shower. Mostly you were talking with Carl your camel. But you saw the roll of Conrad eyes directed at you. Making you huff, you were sure he just saw you as some rich city girl that knew nothing of a hard life.

          James couldn't help be a bit annoyed when his friend asked to take a team of archaeologists to search some dusty old tomb. Sure his friend paid him well. What was one more favor. Even if James save that mans life more then once while they served together. He was no babysitter and the girl, the girl was a bit of an inconvenience. Knowing she was going to somehow get her cute ass in some kind of trouble. Right now all he really wanted to do is go back to some hole in the wall bar and drink himself to death, perhaps. 

             "Owe, You know Carl we've had this moment there where you didn't nip at me and now you've gone and done it." You hissed softly Swatting at the camel pushing his head away from you butt.

            "Why did you name the Camel Carl?" James question, never looking over from what he was doing as he pulled the canteen from the rucksack on the camels back.

           "Why are you ease dropping?" You huffed glaring over at the back of the mans head, eyes wondering over his back as ever muscle flexed when he moved about taking a long drink of water. You licked you lips at the sit. His Adam's apple bobbing along as he drank. Sweat trickling down his neck. If your mouth wasn't dry before it was dry now. No amount of water quench that thirst. The thought of running you tongue along his neck. Tasting that saltiness of his skin. You mind started to wonder about the Captain. "Owe! Carl that was more then enough ass the last time" You shrieked. The camel In question bit a little hard this time taking a bigger bite. Carl made a grunting and what sounded like a laughing noise. Making James choke on water as he tried not to laugh. "Hey! Don't side with Carl."

              "I think he likes you." James smiled a bit more. You huffed in announce mumbling 'men' under your breath, and walked away. Carl followed closely behind nudging at you backside. "Knock it off." You hissed pushing the camels head away from you. James chuckled more audibly after his small bit of coughing mostly trying to cover his laughter. But he couldn't help it the camel had a thing for you. It was quite cute. Seeing Conrad smile finally after only seeing him with a bruting expression, was kind of nice. He was just as handsome if not more with a smirk on his face. Sure you wouldn't mind kissing it off of him. No wait you wanted to punch it off of him. Cause he was an ass like Carl, who was not taking no for an answer.

           The valley of Kings, was without a doubt the most breath taking view so far. After about a month of excavating and exploring. Strange things started happening. You swear you heard your name being called late at night, after everyone was asleep. Thinking it was James messing with you. Calling him an ass later that morning, as you walked passed him. You were digging in an empty room, one of many. You needed some distance between you and the captain. You couldn't focus around the man. So when he wasn't looking you snuck off. With one other, one of the many sent to help you excavate. Everything was going well, until the sand floor of the tomb started to move. Like sand in an hour glass. It took you down with it.

          "Help." You called up from where you had landed. You could hear your name from above you. So that meant you weren’t to far down. "Down here." The dark room made it impossible for your to see what was around you. Knowing if you stayed put Jame even though he would be not to please with you. Would more then find you. It was what he did. Even if the itch to feel your way about the area was driving you to scratch.

         "Y/n?" You heard your name. It sounded like it was coming from beside you.

         "James, I'm down here." You yelled, Not sure if you should move. This eerie feeling crowded up you spine. It almost felt like someone was next to you. You heard your name again. Knowing you had a lighter in your pocked, digging in to retrieve it. Striking the lighter with your thumb, the flame flickered. Helping you see a bit. As you turned around slowly. 

          A blood curdling scream ripped through your throat. When your eyes landed on the man in front of you. Ratty old dusty bandages wrapped around its entire form. This man looked to have been dried up like he had been in the sun for months on end. His lifeless empty eyes stared at you. A moaning like a zombie, erupted from its throat. It wasn't a man it had to of been one of the mummies you were in Search for. The lifeless corpse jerking as it moved towards you. Another scream was pulled from you as you attempt to move away. Only to fall flat on your bitten bruised ass, damn Carl. Hitting your head on something hard, the last thing you heard was James from above calling for you. Telling you to "stay put." Tell that to the thing pulling at your leg. That was not going to be an option.

        Hands that's what you were feeling. Strong boney fingers roaming around expose heated skin. Though your don't remember at any point taking you clothes off for the night. You moaned out James name. His hands were ruff most likely from working with them. Holding a gun with those hands and now they were on you. James strong voice calling your name, making you squirm. You eyes fluttered open, the room was large and brightly lit by glowing flames along the walls. Were you back in the city? Oh but those hands still roaming. Your movement was minimal like there were wall around you. Your were in a sarcophagus. Panic set in as your eyes moved to see those hands that were on you. You shrieked as you grabbed the mummy like hands that moved without a body.

            Sitting up you could see the room clearly now. You head felt heavy like something was on top of it. Your hand moved feeling the large head pice. Pulling it off to get a better look. It was incrusted with jewels and a beetle in the center of it. It was beautiful. Looking down you saw that your breasts were cover not by much. But were covered with some kind of bird that laid between your breasts as the wing covered you nipples. It too was covered in jewels. The same went with your lower half. But only shear fabric covered front and back of your legs leaving the side exposed.

         This had to be a dream still. Mummies could not come back to life. Nor could they kidnap a girl and dresser her in practically nothing, like some Egyptian goddess. Where was James? Hell where was Carl your loyal ass of a camel. And where the hell did those hands go. Pulling yourself out once you figured it was safe. Standing on unsteady legs, you lurched forward almost falling.  Slowly walking around. The sand was cool on the bottom of your bare feet. A shiver ran down your spine.

It felt like something was behind you. And there was, the mummy stood there arms without hand reached out for you as you lurched forward. The dried bones clothed hand grabbed at your ankles cause you to fall on you back and the mummy attack you. Screaming as you tried pulling away. Hands finally meeting arms, as you struggled to get what shouldn't have weighed that much, off you. You name being called from the mummy. Pushing it off of you scrabbles to your feet, it did too. The corpse backing you into a corner. You closed your eyes tears fell free, you called for help. A loud bang followed by another, then another. You opened your eyes to see James in the clearing of the wall. Armed with his pistol, amid at the mummy. It longed at James. But this time James amid for the head. And it seemed the mummy stayed down.

        "Y/n, are you all right?" He asked, before he could get a chance to look you over for any injuries, you wrapped yourself around his midsection shanking. Tears soaking his light blue almost grey shirt. "Hey, shhh, it's all right. I'm here, I'm here." He rubbed your exposed back. Finding a tapestry on the wall, he wrapped it around you holding you closer to him. The sun had long set as he guided you out of the pyramid, taking you back to your tent.

        "Y/n, I'm going to take a look to see if you’re injured now, ok?" James voice was above a whisper. Setting you on the cot like bed. He pulled the tapestry off your shoulders. He had someone fetch him a first aid kit. His eyes roamed over your form. To say you were absolutely stunning was an understatement. He didn't realize what a Beaty you truly were until he though you were lost or worse. The kid with the first aid kit pulled James out of this thoughts. Clearing his dry throat as pulled the kit open. You winced a bit when he gently dabbed at a scratch. "Sorry."

          "Thank you." You mumbled, looking at him as he gently whipped each cut. Each time made you whimper.

             "I wasn't going to leave you down there. And that, that.." James trailed off.

            "The Mummy." You hissed out as James hit a deep bruise. "I think it's safe to say everywhere hurts. Besides my forehead." You announced when he tried to press on a bandage. Not noticed his sly smile, he kissed your forehead. His warm lips lingering a bit before pulling away. "My cheek as well." James lips moved to your cheek. Lips pressed firmly against it. His stubble scratch just a bit at smooth flesh.

         "Anywhere else?" James mumbled against you cheek before he moved away. You hands pressed against you lips.

          "And maybe my lips?" You question, before moving your fingers. As soon as your fingers left your lips. His lips were on yours before you could breath out. Finding yourself kissing back. Your own hands gripping the nap of his neck and tangled into short hair. You felt your back on the cot and James chest pressed against yours. His strong warm hands glide easily over your skin. Cupping the underside of your breasts that were exposed. You moaned out His name. His lips left your swollen lips, tracing along your jawline before moving to you neck. His other hand rounded over your backside, large hand grabbing, groped at you. Pulling at your thigh lifting up over, giving him better access.

You gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you. Both of you jumped when you heard a grunt followed by a roar. Both of you looked over at the opening of the tent. Carl head poked through the now opening. Grunting out, his foot stomped and dragged, clearly not happy. James huffed but turned back to you, his lips back on to yours. Trying to ignore the beast. Carl didn’t like this and pulled his body in more grunting his displeasure.

“I don’t think he likes you.” You mumbled against his lips. James groaned in annoyance. Knowing that camel would not stop. James pulled away from you. Which made you whimper. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone at least not tonight.” James smiled and did as he was commanded. Though he did give you his shirt so you wouldn’t be that distracting. It really didn’t help either.

Everything in the camp was packed up. After what happened to you. The locals said this was cursed grounds and would not continue. Leaving you no choice to pack up and leave. Which hurt you to have to leave knowing there was so much that was yet to be discovered. Even with the items that your wore and the tapestry James used to cover you amongst other things. Walking towards James, Carl trailing behind. He smiled at you, still wearing the shirt he given you last night.

“You know, I have to say Carl is a real hero. He really did save my life.” You teased, making James raise his eyebrow at you.

“What about me?” James pouted a bit. Hands pulling you against him.

“Well I guess you helped too. You were like the side kick. Carl and Captain James Conrad. I mean you did do all the heavy lifting.” You smirked wrapping you arms around him.

“Really?” He smirked pulling you in to a passionate heated kiss. His other arm wrapped around your waist holding you close. Carl hissed and grunted in annoyance. Not getting his way, he moved forward nipping James right in the ass. Making the man yelp. You giggled as James rubbed at his ass. Which you may have placed your there instead.

“I think he likes you.” Kissing his cheek. Before pulling away.

“Oh I can’t wait until he is returned to his owner.” James hissed.

“I don’t know I think I might keep him.” You teased.

[thesvenqueen]

The Mummy

Rating: M (to be safe; gore, language) Main Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Hamunaptra. A place filled with history, legends and mystery. A place Anna Arendelle had only dreamed of finding since she was a little girl. When it seems faith supplies her with the opportunity to find this hidden city, she jumps head first at the chance to find it. But a revengeful mummy, an apocalyptic curse, a deadly adventure (and possibly love) where not exactly on her list of things to discover. Previous Chapters: [ P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ]

NOTES: this is all because @gingersweetlove​ made some INCREDIBLE Mummy art and it did what she was hoping lmao thnk you sweet bb <3

{Chapter 8}

For years Anna had dreamed of being here, of finally making it to the hidden city of Hamunaptra. Now, here she was, lying under the stars within the city itself, only had just begun to explore what the city held.

They’d come to the entrance early morning, finding the group of American’s also waiting with them. They had waited, for what Anna hadn’t known, until the sun came across the horizon, and she’d nearly fallen off her camel as she saw it. 

As the sun’s rays came across the desert, the city slowly came into view. Somehow, some way, the city was hidden to everyone, only being accessible when the early morning sun rose. As soon as the city was fully on display, it had been a race into the city. Anna had won by a mile, beating everyone as Sven and Kristoff cheered her on.

She’d entered the city with a smile so big, her cheeks had ached.

The statue of Anubis was easy to find, and from there they found a place to propel down below. They’d found a preparation room, one that no man or woman had step foot in for nearly 3,000 years. It had brought tears to Anna’s eyes, ones that Kristoff had noticed. She had blamed it on the dust but he said nothing, letting her have this moment. Though they’d lost the chance to open the secret compartment under the statue of Anubis, only arriving moments later after the American’s had found it themselves, she was sure that they’d found something far more interesting in return one level below the statue. 

It had been empty when they’d found it, but Anna still thought something must have lied within it for there to be such a room. She’d been right. Thanks to Sven and his foolery, a sarcophagus had fallen from the ceiling and onto the floor. 

The sarcophagus was one of solid black, sealed by a key. It was then that Anna had discovered that the artifact Sven had swiped from Kristoff weeks before, was in fact the key. The one the men on the ship from nights before had been searching for.

The person within was either incredibly important or had done something extremely hanus to be placed there. With no name along the coffin, only the words “He who shall not be named” written across, she assumed it was more the latter. The book of the Amun-ra was interesting, sure, and the added fact of being solid gold was also alluring no doubt, but this locked sarcophagus was more curious. 

Who was within it and what had they done to be buried in such a way?

“Well,” Kristoff said, as he sat beside her, bringing her out of her thoughts, “Seems we weren’t the only ones with bad luck.”

Anna furrowed her brows in curiosity, “What do you mean?”

“Three of their diggers were….melted.”

Anna sat up then, “What?!”

“How?” Sven questioned from the other side of the fire.

“Salt acid.” Kristoff said, looking across to Sven. “Pressurized salt acid, an ancient booby trap of sorts.” He looked to Anna then, a hint of worry on his face.

“Maybe this place really is cursed.” Sven muttered.

Kristoff tilted his head at her, shrugging a bit at Sven’s comment.

“Oh stop it, you two.” Anna said, rolling her eyes, fighting the blush from being under his gaze. 

“What, you don’t think so?” Sven teased.

“No, I don’t actually.” Anna said with a huff, leaning back against the ruin once more, “I believe if I can see it and I can touch it, then it’s real.”

“Speak for yourself.” Sven said with a huff. 

“Well, I believe in being prepared.” Kristoff said, making himself more comfortable, leaning back himself and Anna could feel his eyes on her. 

“If I have a nightmare tonight I’m blaming you both.” Anna said teasingly. 

“Yeah yeah sure, empty threats as usual.” Sven teased back, rolling over on his cot to face away from them.

Anna shook her head, looking back to the flames. 

“Um,” Kristoff said with a cough, Anna looked to him as he turned to reach into his satchel, “I know you lost yours on the ship and I uh, I felt bad about that and uh, I found this one and um,” He turned then and she slightly gaped at the small, wrapped tool kit in his hands. “I thought...maybe, well, you could use it? Tomorrow, maybe? Or whenever I guess, it’s yours to use but uh...yeah.”

Anna smiled softly at his nervous banter, grabbing the kit. Their hands touched, just the lightest touch, but it was enough to send a jolt through Anna all the same. She looked up, her eyes locking with his. For a moment, the briefest of heartbeats they sat both holding the kit, their hands just barely touching. She hesitated for a moment, not sure what she should do till Kristoff blinked, then took his hand back with a slight cough, looking away as a blush creeped along his cheeks. She ducked her head, fighting her own blush. 

“It’s perfect.” Anna whispered, turning it over in her hands, feeling the weight of it. She could see some tools sticking out from within the wrap and she looked back at him and smiled, “Thank you.”

“Of course it’s, uh, no problem.” Kristoff said with a shrug, smiling back at her.

“Where did you get it?”

Kristoff’s eyes went wide, and he glanced away from her as he grimaced a bit, “Well, let’s just say it’s a gift from our American friends.”

Anna tilted her head, “You nicked it off of them?”

“...maybe.” Kristoff said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Thought, you know, you’d get more use out of it then they would. You’d appreciate it a bit more, you know?”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re a terrible liar,” He said with a smirk, “I know it wasn’t the dust back there in the room Anna.”

Anna bit her lip, fighting back a large smile, the butterflies fluttering ever so in her stomach. This was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. “That’s...that’s very thoughtful of you, thank you.” She sat the kit in her lap, unwrapping and rolling it out gently to look over the tools inside. It was a full kit; chisel, hammer, everything provided. It was more than what her own small kit lost on the boat had held, more than she could ever expect especially, from him. She looked back up to him, catching his eye as he looked back up to her, “Can’t believe you stole it for me.”

He chuckled, his laugh making her smile larger, “More like, borrowing.” He teased.

“You sound like my brother.” She said matter of factly, wrapping the kit back up. 

“...I take full offense to that.”

“I am right here you know.” Sven called, catching their attention, not bothering to roll over.

Anna giggled, side-eyeing Kristoff, “I would too, if I was honest.” she teased.

Sven groaned, rolling over and sitting up as they both laughed, “Alright, if you two don’t--”

A shout echoed through the night, causing everyone to freeze and turn in the direction it came.

Anna watched Kristoff get to his feet, pulling his gun from his holster as he looked around. It was quiet for a moment, then the shout came again, followed by many more and Anna realized what the voice was calling in Arabic, “Yarkud!”

Run!

“Stay here.” He said, running off towards the commotion. 

“Kristoff! Wait!” She shouted, standing to go after him, but Sven grabbed her arm.

“You heard him, stay here!”

“But--”

“No but’s, Anna!” Sven said, turning her around, “You need to--”

Gunshots rang out, and in the distance they could hear what seemed to be battle cries. Among them, she heard the telling sound of galloping hooves.

Heading right for them.

“Hide.” Sven cried, shoving her away as he darted for the pistol on his cot. “Go!” 

Anna hesitated only for a moment, but another shot rang through the night and she took off into the ruins of the city. The preparation room was not far from them, and would no doubt be the safest place to be. However, judging by the shouts and galloping hooves, she had no time to propel herself down below. Thinking quickly, she saw a nearby fallen column, jumped over it and ducked down.

She was far enough from the campsite to not be seen from any oncoming threats, whatever they may be, but she was still able to see her brother standing ready by the fire. 

He was crouched low gun in hand, using the fire as cover, waiting for someone to appear. The shouts and gunshots continued to echo through the ruins, some she recognized as Arabic and others in english. 

Within them, she couldn’t make out any that sounded like Kristoff. She wasn’t sure if she should be happy or scared at that notion. He could hold his own, she knew that for certain as she had witnessed him do just that on a few occasions now, but still she couldn’t help but worry. 

One false move could cost him his life, and Anna wasn’t sure if she’d be able to live with that.

Another shot rang out and she realized it was Sven who’d fired. An intruder had appeared from around the ruin they’d taken camp beside, but was now a heap on the ground. Anna fought back tears as another rounded the corner on horseback, only to fall off shortly after another shot came from Sven.

Two more men appeared, and as they crumpled to the ground, she realized the distant gunshots and shouts were beginning to slow. She waited a moment to be sure, seeing that no other intruder was coming to their site and as she saw Sven stand, she did as well.

Then, she heard it. 

The sound of a sword being unsheathed, from right behind her.

Before she could move, before she could even scream for her brother, she felt the tip of the sword press against her back.

“Don’t move.” 

---

They’d returned.

Kristoff had known it was only a matter of time before the Medjai would make their presence known. He knew that as soon as they’d taken off for the city when the sun had risen, they were watching.

They wouldn’t attack during the day, that was too easy. They gave them time to get comfortable, to relax, and Kristoff had nearly fallen for it. 

But he knew better, knew they’d make their appearance sooner rather than later.

They had, hiding in the cover of the night. 

Kristoff fended off as many as he could, trying to save as many men as he could. They were holding well for themselves but he knew it wasn’t enough. 

Hell, a group of soldiers hadn’t been able to fend them off. 

A shot rang out from behind, which could only mean someone had come across their campsite.

Was it Sven firing? Or had a Medjai gotten the upper hand? 

What about Anna?

Hell, why had he left them alone in the first place?

With that thought, he fired off one more shot, stepping back to hide himself behind a fallen ruin. Guns still held out in front of him, he checked to make sure no one was coming for him. He watched several more Medjai take on the American’s and their crew, the American’s firing off where they could. No one was looking at him or paying him any mind.

When he was sure no one had spotted him, he turned and ran. 

He wasn’t too far from the campsite, but as he approached he heard more shots ring out.  

Shit. 

As he rounded the corner, he saw a Medjai soldier running for Sven, sword raised. Sven was scrambling to load more bullets into his pistol, taking steps back from the fire as the man charged him.

Kristoff quickly took aim and fired, the Medjai soldier slumping to the ground. 

Sven looked to him, “Oi, I had that taken care of.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes, “You’re welcome.”

Sven finished loading his gun, cocked it then looked at him. He sighed, then nodded, “Thank you.”

Kristoff shrugged, trying to catch his breath. He glanced behind Sven, looked around the site, and with a moment of dread that Anna was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Anna?”

“I told her to hide after you left and the gunfire started.” Sven said nonchalantly, “She couldn’t have gotten far.”

“She could be anywhere.” Kristoff said, “Do you know which way she took off?”

“No but I’m sure it will be easy to figure…” Sven stopped then, his face going deathly pale and Kristoff realized he was looking at something behind him. 

Kristoff turned, and immediately raised his gun. 

Anna had been found, but not by them. 

A Medjai held her tightly, a sword pressed across her abdomen and his hand wrapped around her shoulders. Anna stood stoically, her eyes locked on Kristoff's. The only sign of fear came from the slight wobble of her bottom lip and the glimmer of fear in her eyes.

“Put your gun down.” The Medjai soldier called. 

“Like hell.” Kristoff said, his hand still raised and cocked his pistols. He knew better, knew if he did that, he was completely vulnerable. 

The Medjai soldier grinned, shifting the tip of his sword up to have it press against Anna’s neck. She whimpered then, only so, but Kristoff heard it. 

“Don’t!” he heard Sven cry behind him.

“Then put your guns down.”

Kristoff kept his eyes on Anna, saw her lower lip begin to wobble and gritted his teeth. He hesitated, unsure what to do. 

“Enough!” A voice boomed, and Kristoff looked to see another Medjai come into view. 

He recognized him, knew exactly who he was as soon as his face caught the campfire light. He hadn’t seen his face, did not know what his name was nor did he care. But he knew it. Had seen it once before and never forgot it.

He was the bastard Kristoff had seen watching him from the cliffs as he had wandered into the desert months before. Leaving him to die.

Without hesitation, he pointed one of his guns at him, keeping the other still aimed at the soldier holding Anna.

“Yallah!” The man called, looking not at Kristoff but the soldier holding Anna. “We will shed no more blood tonight!” He looked to Kristoff then, “But you must leave! Leave this place or die!”

The Medjai holding Anna began to loosen his grip, but even so Kristoff did not move and kept his guns aimed. 

He wasn't taking any chances. 

“You have one day.” The man threatened, glaring at Kristoff before looking to the other Medjai as he turned to leave, and once more yelled, “Yallah!”

The soldier moved his sword, released his hold across Anna’s shoulders and shoved her hard into the sand. He turned then, taking off into the night with the other Medjai.

Kristoff didn’t even bother to watch the soldiers take off. His eyes were only on Anna and as soon as she hit the sand, he ran to her.  

“Anna.” he murmured as he slid next to her. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up. “Are you ok?”

Anna looked up at him, tears in her eyes. She reached for his arm, grabbing hold of his bicep for stability, squeezing gently. For a moment, she just looked at him and Kristoff was reminded of how he could easily lose himself in her blue eyes, of the small jolt he had felt earlier when their hands had touched.

The same jolt he felt now.

She nodded, huffing a quiet, “Yes.”  

“You sure?” he asked, idly rubbing a thumb across her shoulder in comfort. 

She nodded again, “Yeah.” She whispered, looking at him with a small smile that he couldn’t help but return, “I’m ok.”

[brooklyn-1918]

Mighty Oaks

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Peggy Carter, The Howling Commandos. Pretty much everyone from The First Avenger. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Summary: Steve has always been told “mighty oaks from little acorns grow.” He just never knew what that meant to him.

Warnings: Language, poor written smut, fluff and angst. 18+ only.

Word count: 4550

A/N: I wrote this for @thinkoutsidethebex​ ‘s writing challenge, which I had a hell of a lot of fun with. It’s also my first time that I have posted anything that I have written for one of my ships, so I don’t know how well this is going to blow over. 

Also, I got the proverb “mighty oaks from little acorns grow”.

Anywho, enjoy.

People say that mighty oaks from little acorns grow, right? Right now, Steve’s not convinced. Alone and cornered in an alley, the date is August 18, 1942, 4:30 in the afternoon. And Steve is already on his third fight today. 

In his defence, the first one was NOT his fault, and the second he didn’t fully mean to start. This one, though, Steve damn well meant it. He stands defiantly towards the bully, chin jutted out and fists balled at his sides. The red headed man laughs, stepping forward. Steve takes one step closer and the man laughs harder.

Steve can’t for the life of him figure out what’s so funny. Until he sees the man flex his fingers, and a small silver knife falls from his sleeve, and into his grip. 

“Shit.” Steve mutters, eyes darting around for some sort of escape. 

“You really think that your life is worth it? Protecting some girl?” The slimeball twirls the knife in his fingers, taunting, toying. Steve can’t find a way out. So he does the one thing he can think of. 

He dives to the left, crashing into a pile of trash bins, and grabs a lid. Popping up, he hurls the lid with all his might. Granted, not much might, but points to him for trying. It spins through the air, and crashes into the man’s nose with a sickening crunch, making him stumble backwards with his hand over his face. Steve hurtles a pile of trash, and races out of the alley. 

The guy shouts behind him, and Steve narrowly avoids the knife as it is hurled at him with scary accuracy. Steve doesn't stop running until he stumbles through his front door, on the verge of having an asthma attack. 

Bucky looks up from his spot on the couch, untying his shoes from the day’s work. The brunette stands abruptly, dropping one shoe off his lap, and shaking the other off his foot as he trots over to him. 

“Stevie? What happened?” He puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, and wrenches him upright, looking at all the bruises and nicks on his face and hands. Steve gives him a grumpy look and refuses to talk. Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh, and leads him to sit on the sofa. 

He leaves to grab a washcloth, running it under the bathroom faucet. Taking it back in, he wipes away the street grime and the stray drops of blood, going gently around the tender skin of his black eye. 

“What happened?” Bucky tries again, placing two fingers under his chin and lifting his head. Steve frowns again, and begins to recount the stories of his three separate encounters. And by the time he is done, Bucky has sat on the floor in front of him, staring dumbly at the little blond. 

“You’re lucky I love you, you punk.” Bucky manages to say, shaking his head and dropping the now warm cloth next to him. He pushes up with a tired arm to lean forward, his lips connecting with Steve’s. 

Steve smiles as he wraps a hand around Bucky’s nape, pulling him closer. Bucky swings around to sit on the couch, moving Steve to sit on his lap, kiss never breaking. Bucky begins to work at the knot of Steve’s tie as Steve begins to grind down, growing harder by the second. 

Steve pops the buttons of Bucky’s dirty white henley, before moving onto the buttons of his own button down. Bucky trails his fingers down Steve’s back, then slides them around to firmly grip his boyfriend’s waist, grinding up against him. 

He jumped slightly as Steve’s cold fingers slid under his shirt, working it up and over his head, their mouths only breaking apart once he needed to pass the shirt over. He tosses it, not caring where it landed, and begins to leave a trail of kisses down Bucky’s jaw, to his neck, and finally, to his shoulder, sucking at his pulse point. Bucky groans as Steve runs his hands over his toned abs and chest, then quickly moves his hands to rid Steve of his own shirt, exposing his thin frame. Bucky moves his hands back to Steve’s hips, and stands abruptly, Steve hooking his feet behind Bucky. Moving slowly, he makes it to the bedroom, shutting the door and collapsing down on the old mattress.

_____

It's June of the next year, Steve has just been denied enlistment for the fifth time, and he still somehow has found himself cornered in another alley, this time for trying to get some asshole to stop shouting out during a picture. Just his luck. His eyes dart around, and he does it again. He grabs the lid of a trash bin, holding it in front of him like a shield. 

He isn’t fast enough when the guy swings his fist around to connect with his jaw, knocking him to the ground with a grunt. 

“Hey!” He hears.

“Pick on someone your own size.” Steve knows that voice. He pushes himself up and turns around just as the guy is running out of the alley. Steve can feel his stomach drop out as he lays eyes on his boyfriend, clad in a military uniform.

“How many times is this? And really, Jersey?” Bucky is busy straightening out the medical examination card, eyes down, unsure if he would be able to take the look he just KNOWS is on Steve’s face. Steve draws in a shaky breath, then speaks. 

“You got your orders.” He doesn't pose it as a question, but he keeps his voice low, masking the brokenness of it all. Bucky finally looks up, giving a mock salute.

“Sergeant James Barnes, 107th.” Bucky places his arm around Steve’s shoulders with a little laugh, then pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. 

“Come on.” Bucky huffed a laugh, forcing a smile to his face. 

“Where we going?” Steve asked, trying to keep the solemn tone from his voice. It wasn’t working. Bucky bit his lip and gave a shake to the blond. 

“The future. I got us some cover tonight.” 

_____

The “date” went about as well as any cover date could have gone. To the outside world, it looked like Bucky was with the brunette, and Steve was with the blonde, not that it was two illegal pairings.

Of course, the Stark expo had not held Steve’s interest for very long. The floating car was OK, but when he had turned around, there was an enlistment sign, pointing him in the right direction. With a glance back over his shoulder, he decided that he could try his luck. He snuck off to go find it.

Bucky had caught up with him quickly, giving him a little push from behind and telling him that they were going to bring Dottie and Claire dancing. Steve told him he could go on without him, that he was going to try again. Bucky had gotten mad, getting into a little argument. 

Bucky hadn’t been able to stay mad for long, though. He shook his head and brought Steve in for a hug, wishing he could kiss him silly in public. That was the last time Bucky would see Steve for another three months, the last time he would see Steve at that size. 

Steve got into the supersoldier program that night. 

_____

Steve thinks about the phrase his mother had told him years ago.

“Mighty oaks from little acorns grow, now don’t you forget that Steven Grant Rogers.” She had ruffled his hair and sent him to bed. 

Yeah, Steve is REALLY not feeling that. He has fallen in the mud again, grunting as he tries to get his thin legs back under him. Hodges had hit him with the stock of the training rifle again, right to the gut. If looks could kill, Steve was pretty sure that he would have killed him by now. 

Hell hath no fury like an angry Steve Rogers. 

So he runs harder, barely overtaking the guy in the second to last position. He drops the gun and jumps at the rope ladder, but his leg slips through and he falls back, an annoyed look on his face as the drill sergeant yells at him and a few of the other guys laugh at him. 

“I bet Bucky didn’t have to go through this.” He grumbles to himself as he pulls back up, resuming his climb. 

It was these very events that made it hard to believe he was the one chosen to partake in the experiment. At first, he thought it was some sick joke they were playing on him. Then, when he returned to the barracks and his was the only stuff there, it sunk in. 

_____

Steve lay strapped to the table as it flipped up, the doors closing around him. Dr. Erskine had said that the serum would not only give him a pristine physical form, but would cure any and all illnesses he had. And by God he hoped he was right. He hoped that he was right when him and Bucky would sit up, talking late into the night about how neither of them thought their love was an illness. He hoped he was right that there was one thing the serum would not be able to change. 

Love was pain, and he was willing to live with the pain he sufferers every day in order to not give up Bucky. That's the one thing he doesn't think he would be able to live with. Giving up Bucky. 

The door shuts and the pain starts. Dull at first, but it grows until he feels like his bones are on fire, his vision going white. He tries not to yell out, but as it grows unbearable, he cries out. He can hear shouting for the machine to get turned off, so he shouts for them to keep going. He grits his teeth and stays quiet.

He can hear the strap around his stomach break, the thrumming of the machine deafening, the light blinding. Outside, sparks fly and the power dies all at once, leaving Steve trapped in the hot metal sarcophagus. The doors pop open and let in a rush of much welcomed cool air. He may not yet be mighty, but he certainly is bigger.

He opens his eyes as the doctor and Howard Stark help him off the mechanism. Steve thinks for a panicked moment, his love for Bucky doesn't seem to have been changed. Then Peggy asks him how he feels, reaching out to just barely touch his newly defined pectoral muscle. His skin crawls at the touch, and he resists the urge to smile because, yup, he still is very much in love with Bucky. They were right. He smiles. 

_____

Steve’s next two months fly by in a storm of dancing USO girls, and propaganda. And as he sits backstage of the latest show, in the middle of rainy Italy, he can’t help but think about how close he could be to Bucky, to his second half of his heart. 

His hand absently sketches out a monkey, riding on a unicycle and carrying his shield. 

“Hello, Steve.” He jumps at the voice, and turns to look over his shoulder, catching sight of Peggy Carter. 

“Hi.” He says, a little surprised. She smiles and sits next to him, trying to give her comfort to him. All he can see himself as is the dancing monkey. A horn sounds and it makes him jump again, looking to the commotion of people hauling wounded out of an ambulance. 

“They look like they’ve been through hell.” He says. Peggy hums beside him, and gives an explanation. 

“Your audience contained what's left of the 107th.” Steve’s stomach drops to his toes, the blood drained out of his face. He asks for confirmation, but doesn't get it as his patience has run out, and he’s racing out to Colonel Philips’s tent. 

His one goal is to get Bucky back. 

_____

Steve storms the castle. Or, factory in this case. He has unleashed his full fury, teeth grit, knuckles bloodied. He races around trying to find the prison ward, then unlocking all the cages. Hundreds of prisoners flood into the hall, but none of them the one he is so desperately searching for. He takes off in the direction that one of them points in, hoping, praying to any god there might be, that Bucky is still alive. 

He finds him strapped to a table, muttering his numbers, eyes glazed over. Steve quickly makes sure the room has no video feeds, and he rips the straps off. 

“Bucky!” He calls, placing his hand over his beloved’s cheek, smoothing his thumb over the bone. Bucky’s eyes slip back into focus, and he squints at Steve.

“Steve?” He asks, lifting his arm to grip the blond’s shoulder. He looks confused for only a minute until Steve bends down to lock lips with him. Like Prince Charming waking Snow White from her poisoned slumber, Bucky bolts upright. 

“Come on, we gotta go Buck.” Steve helps him off the table, and they hobble their way out of the factory, questions of how and why and when rattling from Bucky’s mouth. 

“I’ll explain later.” Is what Steve eventually gives Bucky.

_____

Steve doesn't leave Bucky’s side for the next few days. They sit in Steve’s dimly lit tent, rain pouring on top of them. Sitting side by side, Steve’s hand rests on Bucky’s knee as he explains things. 

“And here we are, sitting in this muddy hell.” Steve finishes. Bucky hums, tracing up Steve’s muscular forearm with one finger. Bucky leans his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, testing out the new odd feeling of having both more muscle padding and more height. He switches so his chin is resting on his shoulder, his icy blue eyes staring into Steve’s sky blue. 

Steve leans down to kiss him, tongue tracing the seam of his lips for entry. Bucky yields, and their kiss deepens. Steve twists his body so they are facing each other, one leg on the bed, the other dangling over the edge. Hands card through hair, and breathing gets more erratic. 

This is how Peggy finds them. 

“Captain, we need to discuss--” She walks into his tent, eyes trained on the file in her arms before looking up. They had broken apart in time to not have actually been caught in the act, but their appearances were proof enough. Both wore their undershirts with casual base pants, matching disheveled hair. Steve had a hickey at the base of his neck, and Bucky was covered in little nips.

Steve stood quickly, eyes wide in terror. They were sure to be thrown out of the army, most likely put in jail or put through correctional treatment. Bucky remained frozen on the bed. Peggy’s jaw dropped, file drooping until it was at her side. Steve reached his hand out, then withdrew it like he was going to get burned. 

“Look, Peggy, I can ex--”

“I knew it.” Peggy whispers, looking from one to the other. They looked at her dumbfoundedly.

“Your secret is safe with me. I’ll just leave this here.” She says as she places the file on the end of Steve’s cot. She turns to go back out into the rain, but stops to say one last thing. 

“You may want to consider something a bit more private.” She smiles warmly at them, and exits, the flaps swinging lightly as they close. 

_____

Not a week later they find themselves walking through the woods around base, both of them having the day to themselves. Naturally they decide to spend it together. Steve holds out his arm to stop Bucky, and points up the hill to a stone outcropping, more rock forming a cave underneath. 

They haul each other up, climbing inside, where it’s surprisingly warm. Steve takes off his shirt, leaving his undershirt, and balls it up to use as a pillow. Bucky rests his head on Steve’s chest, and gripps his tank top. They can see the whole base from the cave, high on the hill above the treetops. Beyond, is a town, half destroyed by bombs, but still standing. 

“It’s nice up here.” Bucky comments, his voice echoing quietly off the back wall, sounding around the small space. 

“Yeah. Too bad we can’t spend more time here.” Steve sighs. He brings his hand up to twist through Bucky’s hair, playing with the short strands at the base of his neck. Bucky chuckles softly.

“May as well make the best of it then.” Steve is almost confused at his words, but then the brunette climbs on top of him, straddling his waist. Steve grins wickedly as he immediately goes to pull Bucky’s shirt down his shoulders. He sits up, holding Bucky in place by his hips, which have begun to grind down against him. Bucky slides his fingers under Steve’s undershirt, then up the toned stomach and chest, gathering the fabric on the way, stopping briefly to pinch at Steve’s nipples, which are hardening just the same as some other things. He finally lets go and slides the shirt off, before removing his own. 

“You’re beautiful. Did you know that?” Steve asks, a flirty smile on his face. 

“You only tell me every day.” Bucky retorts. Steve growls and flips them over, pinning Bucky to the ground. With his hands over his wrists, he begins to move his hands up slowly, a silent command for Bucky to leave his arms on the ground. Bucky twitches as Steve’s light touches tickle the skin on his arms, causing Steve to see if what he was doing was alright. Bucky gave a nod and Steve moved down, unbuttoning Bucky’s pants. He slipped his fingers under the edge of his boxers, then he quickly shoved them down, exposing Bucky’s excited member. 

Steve trailed kisses down from his navel, towards the inside of his thigh, giving Bucky a few strokes. 

“So beautiful.” Steve murmurs as he sinks his mouth down around Bucky’s length, precum drizzling out of the tip. Bucky gasps, and can’t help as his hands go to Steve’s head, holding him in place. His hips buck as Steve begins to move up and down, breathing deeply through his nose. 

He pulls off of him with a wet pop, saliva trailing from his lip all the way down. Even in the dim light, Steve can see how his lover’s eyes are almost black with lust. He’s sure his are the same. Bucky sits up, hooking his hands under Steve’s armpits, dragging him up to lay on top of him. Steve happily goes with him, but props himself on his elbows, hovering almost nose to nose. Eyes locked, Bucky snakes his hands between them to undo Steve’s pants, pushing them down his hips. 

Steve dives forward to kiss the life out of Bucky, nipping at his lip before going back down his neck. Bucky reaches around to give Steve a few experimental tugs, Steve hard and aching as he moans softly. The blond moves to prop up on just one arm, the other joining where Bucky’s hand lay. Steve pushes one finger into Bucky, bending his knuckle just slightly, enough to bring Bucky up as he arches his back into Steve, a gasp escaping his slack jaw. 

“God… Steve--” is all Bucky can manage to say, squirming slightly under him. Steve chuckles slowly, adding in a second, then third finger, twisting them to have Bucky gasp out his name the same way that he just did. 

Pulling his fingers out, Bucky wimpers, feeling empty at the loss of the touch. He is about to protest before he groans in ecstasy, Steve’s cock filling him up as he thrusts in almost to his base. 

“This feel good?” Steve asks, his voice low, thumb now rubbing slow circles on Bucky’s side. The brunette grins widely, before he grabs Steve’s free hand and presses his fingers to his lips, kissing each knuckle. 

“Shit, Steve… Please…” He whines. Steve takes that as his cue, and begins to move his hips back and forth, rocking them to the beat of each breath he took. Bucky’s breath skips, rattling as he takes the steamy cave air in. Bucky nearly breaks Steve’s hand as he grips it. 

“Please.” Bucky begs, pushing his hips up to get more force. Steve smiles and presses a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth, nipping his lip on the way up. Bucky’s soft plea was everything Steve needed to start completely railing him, thrusts becoming slightly more erratic as he neared the edge. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect… And so damn tight.” Steve growled in his ear, sucking on his earlobe. Bucky’s back arched up once more, nails dragging down Steve’s back, leaving long red welts. Bucky moans as he cums, his juices spraying over Steve’s abdomen. 

Voices just down the hill make them panic. They are far, but can be made out as the voices of Falsworth and Dougan coming closer. Steve’s head snaps up, and he pulls out quickly, fixing his pants and tugging his undershirt back on, Bucky scrapes his back on the wall of the cave as he shoots up, undershirt thrown on, then green base shirt, buttoning up until the last two. 

Steve is fixing his hair, looking wildly around for his shirt, to which Bucky throws it at him, hitting him in the face just as the two Commandos pop their heads into the mouth of the cave. Steve laughs and kicks the toe of Bucky’s boot from his spot on the opposite wall, unfolding his shirt to sling back over his broad shoulders. 

“Hey, Cap.” Dougan says, pulling himself in, nodding to the sergeant sitting on the opposite wall. Steve is just managing to control his laughter, and to regulate his breathing when Falsworth clambers in, Bucky shooting him a mad grin. 

“What’re you doing the whole way up here?” Dougan asks as he slumps against the wall next to him, twirling his bowler hat in his fingers. Falsworth leans against the wall next to Bucky, looking back and forth between the two brooklynites. 

“Just getting reacquainted.” Steve says, causing Bucky to snort, reciprocating Steve’s kick with one of his own. 

“What about you?” Bucky questions, brushing some dirt off his pants. 

_____

The train rattles under the soldiers, speeding through the snowy alps. Bullets fly and beams of blue light blaze, the fight hot. Steve’s feet are knocked out from under him, and he goes crashing into the floor, his shield bouncing away from him. 

Bucky picks it up and fires at the German soldier once, twice, three times, shield held in front of him. The soldier turns and fires, blasting dead center to the shield, blowing the brunette sideways and through a hole in the side of the train car. 

Steve’s eyes widen and he throws the metal disk with everything he has, contacting it to his chest, where he picks up the sound of ribs breaking through the armour. Before the disk hits the ground again, he has scrambled to the hole, reaching out shouting over the whipping wind. 

“Grab my hand!” He cries, chest constricting. Bucky reaches out, his fingers brushing his love’s. His face is riddled with terror, hand trembling, but he can’t reach.

The bar breaks and time stands still. Steve can only stare, paralized with fear, feeling his heart shatter.

Bucky falls away with a shout.

As he’s falling, Bucky shuts his mouth to silence his scream. He can’t let Steve hear him like this. He can’t let his last memory be of Bucky’s anguish. 

So he twists to his left, enough that his arm catches on a jagged rock ledge, shattering the bone and tearing at the flesh. The last thing he remembers is landing on his back, his head hitting the ground and knocking him out. 

And as he lays on the ground bleeding out, he smiles as his life plays before him. One. Last. Time.

_____

Steve staggers out of the debriefing, barely containing his emotions. He stops in the middle of the camp, mud splashing up and over his boots, contemplating on if he should go back to his tent. 

Unknown to him, the commandos watched him as he turned and wandered into the woods. Unknown to him, the commandos followed. 

Once he got deep enough into the trees, he stopped, scanning the snowy landscape ahead of him. He dropped heavily to his knees, sitting back on his heels, hands lay palm up on his thighs. The tears fell down his cheeks swifter than rivers, his entire body shaking. 

They say mighty oaks from little acorns grow. In this moment he had never felt lower. Someone had taken an ax to his heart and hacked away until he was nothing but splinters. His head dropped so his chin hit his chest. 

With a growl growing in the back of his throat, he unclipped the shield from his back and stood. 

Hidden behind a few trees, the commandos narrowed their eyes, watching for what he would do. They were afraid to move, to make noise. They were scared that their own heartbreak would be heard by their captain. 

With a yell, Steve threw his shield toward a tree, watching as it’s edge sliced right through and lodged in the tree behind. With a crash, the pine fell, shuddering the ground. He walked forward to his shield, and removed it from the wood, staring at the slice for a moment before he wound back and sent his fist to connect with it, splintering the trunk. 

He shook his bloody, probably broken hand, warding off the blossoming pain. He twisted on his heel so he could walk to the fallen tree, sitting on the trunk. 

The tears came hot and fast once more, falling like someone had just blown the Hoover dam. 

The shield slipped from his grasp and landed in the snow. He moved his now free hands to hold his head up with his elbows propped on his knees.

He couldn’t let the troops see him like this. With the snot threatening to spill from his nose, and the irregular breathing, cheeks red and puffy. 

Slowly, the commandos made their way from behind the trees, placing their hands on his shoulders. They sat next to him, they comforted him as best they could. 

_____

The screaming cockpit filled his head. The plane was headed for the ice, and Steve was glad. 

Long ago Bucky and Steve had promised each other that they would be with each other until the end of the line. And this was it. 

Bucky had gotten off, and that left Steve still on the train. Steve was giving his life to save the lives of countless people, and if he had to go, he would choose it no other way. And as Peggy’s voice crackled over the radio, he smiled.

The plane hit the ice and the radio signal cut. Steve was thrown from his seat, and as he was struck unconscious, his life played before his eyes. 

They say mighty oaks from little acorns grow. And maybe they were right. Maybe Steve was. 

[darks-ink]

Absurdism Chapter 15

Vlad makes mistakes, and then makes some more mistakes, and then rounds it off by making even more mistakes.

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

---

Chapter 15: Reign Storm

Jazz walked into the kitchen and stopped dead when she saw him. Danny grinned, waving at her.

Next to him, the other Danny also grinned and waved.

“Why,” Jazz groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Couldn’t I have gotten a normal brother?”

The other Danny gasped dramatically. “A normal brother? In this family?”

“Did you two plan this out?” She dropped her hand to narrow her eyes at them. Danny was pretty sure that she was trying to figure out which Danny was which. “Because this is bullying. I’m feeling very bullied right here.”

“Take it up with Sidney, then.” Danny, still grinning, took a bite of his sandwich. He should’ve had lunch sooner, but in his defense, he totally forgot. Until the actual Fenton kids were returning from school, that was. “He’s the local expert on fixing bullies.”

“This isn’t bullying, anyway.” His human counterpart rattled his fingers on the glass he held as he spoke. “This is just sibling fun.”

Jazz huffed, chagrined. “Phantom, I’m glad you’re here, but sometimes I wish you weren’t.”

“Amen.” Other Danny raised his glass.

“Same,” Danny agreed, raising his sandwich.

She narrowed her eyes even further, sparks of gold visible in the teal of her eyes.

Danny flashed his own eyes green, and Jazz relaxed a little. Ah. She really hadn’t been able to tell them apart.

“So you two really didn’t plan this out?” She finally entered the kitchen proper, pausing next to the table where they both were.

“Just a coincidence,” Danny assured her.

Other Danny nodded, then gestured over at him. “This one forgot to eat lunch until he saw me come home.”

“My day-night rhythm is in shambles.” Danny shrugged, taking another bite of his food. Just because this dimension’s Fentons insisted he come stay with them didn’t mean it fixed everything automatically. “It already was before I came here, though.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that before.” Jazz hummed, thoughtfully. “Something about being practically nocturnal.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many ghosts attack at night.” Danny clicked his tongue, chastising. “You’re gonna have your hands full when I leave.”

If he ever left.

“And you will have to get used to being the little brother again,” she jibed, equally willing to ignore the possibility that he might never leave. “Did you two leave me any food?”

Danny stuffed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. Other Danny grinned and said, “Nah, unless you want the Frankenwienies.”

“You two are the worst.”

He opened his mouth to joke back, but felt his core stir in his chest. Far, far stronger than usual; more of a heave than a whir.

Based on Jazz’ startled expression, she felt it too.

Blue vapor misted from both their mouths, and Danny quickly sorted through his memories. What could possibly…

Oh no.

He threw out his arms as he shifted into his ghost form, a green shield forming around the three of them before the light had even faded away. The other two made noises of protest, but fell silent when the first ghosts started zipping past them.

No one said anything when the few ghosts made way for a whole stream of them. Humanoid, animals, every type of ghost flew past them, including familiar faces. One or two even bashed against the shield as they flew past, but were clearly unwilling to stick around to try and get at Jazz.

Good. At least she wouldn’t have to suffer through that gang-up like he had.

“What’s going on?” Jazz asked. Her hands were shaking, but Danny wasn’t sure if it was fear or just jitters from her core. “Why are all these ghosts here?”

“They’re fleeing the Ghost Zone.” He kept the shield steady, even as the flow lessened. “The Ghost King is awake.”

“The what?” Other Danny was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Ghosts have a king?!”

“Sort of. He’s been asleep for ages, locked in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.” Finally, the stream of ghosts seemed to stop, and Danny let down his shield. He didn’t shift back. “He is… extremely powerful, and a harsh king. The other ghosts are afraid of him, so they’re fleeing to the human world, where they don’t have to deal with him. Or so they think.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that,” Jazz grumbled. Her shivers had lessened already. Probably just the shock of her ghost sense, then. “Is he gonna come here?”

Danny grimaced. “Not… necessarily. He doesn’t care about the human world.”

“But?” Jazz prodded. “Come on, I can tell you’re leaving details out.”

“But,” he repeated, before sighing. “He’ll be after one of his relics, which increases a ghost’s power. It’s called the Ring of Rage.”

“How did he get out, anyway?” his human counterpart asked. “If he was locked up for so long. Did someone free him?”

“Vlad, of course, who else?” Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair. He really wasn’t looking forward to doing this all again. Last time it had nearly killed him. Yes, he was stronger now, he’d probably be okay, but still. “And he knows Pariah is after the Ring, so he’s gonna bring it here and pass it off to some unsuspecting target, like his pet ghost hunter.”

Jazz’ eyes grew wide. “Valerie. She’s in danger!”

“Not until Vlad leaves and gives her the ring,” he dismissed. Paused. Cast out his ghost sense to try and track down Vlad’s minimal presence in human form. “Uh. Is Vlad still here?”

Jazz hurried back to the doorway. “Valerie is gone too!”

“Well, crap.” Oh, and he didn’t know where those two had gone, either… but he did know where the first big showdown was happening. “Come on, we’d better get going. Pariah is gonna send an army of ghosts here, and I know where he’s gonna open the portal.”

She nodded, immediately shifting into her own ghost form. No hesitation. “Let’s go.”

“Stay safe,” human Danny demanded. “Both of you. Stay safe, please?”

Danny nodded back. “I’ll make sure of it.” He stepped forward, paused. “And, um. In case Vlad is back before us… he may or may not believe we are the same person.”

“Phantom,” other Danny sighed, loudly, exasperatedly. “Again?”

He shrugged, putting on an innocent face. “What? It’s just the logical conclusion here! Anyway we’d better get going, bye!”

Jazz followed him up. “Did you really have to do that?”

“No, but this way he’ll have something besides us to worry about.” He leveled out, slowing down a notch so Jazz could keep up. “We’ll be fine.”

He would make sure of that.

---

The fight was a mess, chaotic to no end. Danny lost track of Jazz quickly, darting between Pariah’s skeletal minions. He would just have to trust that she could take care of herself. Vlad and Valerie also disappeared into the mass. It was just him, and the ghosts directly around him.

He caught a flash of green, his eye immediately drawn towards it. The Fright Knight, the ghost’s first appearance in this world. Or, more accurately, the flash of green of his swinging sword.

“Don’t get hit by it!” he yelled at Valerie, already rushing towards her.

“Thought that that was kinda obvious!” She dodged the next swing, the green metal carving a deep slice in her hoverboard. “Hey, jerk! Do you know how expensive this tech is?!”

“It is worthless in comparison to the ring,” Fright Knight snarled back. He lunged towards her.

Danny grabbed the ghost by the armor, bodily dragging him away from Valerie. “That’s enough outta you, pal.”

“The ring?” Valerie repeated, blankly. “They want a ring?”

Fright Knight swung his sword down at Danny, and he rushed to form a shield to catch it. “Yeah, they’re after Pariah’s Ring of Rage.”

“Oh,” Valerie said. Danny heard the click of a weapon assembling. “Well, I’ll take care of that, then.”

“Wait, what are you—” The weapon fired, and he twisted around to look. God dammit, Valerie, launching the thing on a missile doesn’t help!

The pressure against his shield disappeared, and a quick glance back confirmed that the Fright Knight had summoned his mount and was going after the missile. Danny needed to get there first, but he couldn’t be seen taking it.

It had been months since he last used this power, but… He split apart, meeting the bright green eyes of his duplicate.

“You know what to do,” he said to it, and it nodded back. It shimmered, disappearing from sight, but Danny could still feel it as it raced after Fright Knight. He would just have to hope that all that speed training would pay off.

“Damn, Phantom.” Valerie whistled, impressed. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

He blasted one of the skeletons away from her, cursing the distraction of his duplicate. This was not an ideal situation for this. “I don’t use them, usually. Splits my attention.”

“Gotcha.” She cocked her gun, turning her attention back to the fight as well. “Now what?”

“My duplicate is gonna grab the ring, make sure that Fright Knight loses track of it.” An ice-ray stopped a large swatch of ghosts that were coming in their direction. “Shooting it on a missile is a short-term solution, and we do not want them to actually get their hands on the Ring.”

His duplicate had caught up with the missile, snatching the Ring before Fright Knight could notice. Danny instructed it to flee, to hide the thing in a place where Fright Knight wouldn’t be able to detect it.

“Wow, I heard the capitalization on that.” Valerie snorted, blasted a few more skeletons apart. “Why is it so important?”

“It greatly increases the power of a ghost wearing it.” He swept a disc of ectoplasm at some of the ghostly skeletons, watching the explosion scatter them. His duplicate had made it back to FentonWorks unnoticed, stuffing the Ring into a Thermos. Clever. With its job finished, it dissipated. “Pariah wants it because it’ll make him the strongest ghost in the Ghost Zone.”

He could see her mask crinkle as she made a face. “And how bad is that?”

“Well, I had to use a suit that increased by power hundred-fold just to match him, so…” He could see her fretting, now. “Don’t worry, my duplicate snatched it and hid the Ring. They won’t find it.”

“Good.” The ghosts around them stalled, all of a sudden, and she drew closer to him, warily. “I don’t get it. Why did my weapons supplier have that thing?”

“Long story.” Danny angled his head upwards, saw the Fright Knight coming down again. Had he given up the search so quickly?

“You know my weapons supplier?” Valerie asked, skeptically. She had caught sight of Fright Knight as well. “Oh, there’s that guy again.”

The Fright Knight dismounted, the clanking of his armored boots loud in the sudden silence. Over the still skeletons, Danny finally caught sight of Jazz and Vlad; they were on opposite ends of the field, both having apparently decided to move to the edges of the fight instead of staying in the center like him and Valerie.

“By the authority vested in me by my Lord and Liege,” Fright Knight started, raising his sword. Green flames engulfed it suddenly. Danny felt his heart clench, but there was no stopping it.

“I claim this town now and forever under the weather of Lord Pariah, King of All Ghosts!” And Fright Knight drove the sword down, sinking it into the ground. A wave of ectoplasm emanated from it, a secondary beam shooting straight up.

“Stay back, and stay calm,” Danny told Valerie, not taking his eyes off of Fright Knight. “He’s not going to attack.”

She nodded, but the tense line of her shoulders told him she wasn’t happy with it.

The beam of ectoplasm spread out, forming a dome around their whole city. Jazz shot over the motionless ghosts, joining up with him and Valerie. “What’s he doing?”

“Right now? Upping the amount of ectoplasm we have in our air.” Danny let his eyes wander back to Vlad, but the man made no attempt to join up with them. “And he’s not gonna do anything else, either, except give us his demands.”

Fright Knight turned to look towards them. Danny stepped forward as well, Valerie and Jazz staying behind.

The ghost angled his head, but took the hint—Danny was the leader. “The sword has sunk, your die now cast. The sword removed shall signal fast. Make reappear,” he gestured at their group, “the ring thou hast. Or your next day shall be your last.”

And without another word, he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

“That sounded… dramatic.” Valerie was clearly eyeing up the skeletons. “What about those?”

“They’re not gonna do anything for now,” Danny dismissed. “Pariah wants us to hand over the ring, he’s not gonna attack us until his terms run out.”

“Where is the Ring, anyway?” Jazz frowned at the skeletons, but turned to face him for his answer. “Why did they stop looking for it?”

“We hid it.” He shot a meaningful look at the skeletons below, and Jazz nodded in understanding. “You head back home, I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

She nodded again, golden eyes darting between him and Valerie. “Gotcha. I’ll meet you there.”

“What was that about?” Valerie asked, skeptically, as Jazz left them. “Why not just tell her?”

“I didn’t want to risk the skeletons being able to listen in.” He shrugged, casting out his ghost sense. Vlad had also left, at some point. “And I wanted to talk to you about your weapons supplier, Vlad.”

“What about him?” Her posture was stiff, tense.

Danny rolled his eyes. “You don’t think that it’s weird that the Vlad Masters gave this kind of weaponry to a fourteen-year old? That he gave a powerful ghost artifact to you, knowing what—or who—was after it?”

“Ugh.” She sighed, shoulders slumping down. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You gonna tell me he’s evil, now?”

“And also a half-ghost.” He grinned at her incredulous look. “That vampire-looking guy that was here with us? Vlad Plasmius, half-ghost. He’s been half-ghost for two decades, but he’s not as powerful as me, and Jazz will outpace him as well, when her core matures.”

She hummed. “And he’s no good?”

“And he’s no good,” Danny confirmed. “Told me—and Jazz, in this universe—to our face that he wanted to kill our dad and marry our mom. Most ghosts aren’t obsession-driven like people think, but Vlad? Absolutely.”

“Yikes.” She shook her head. “Now I’m gonna think of that every time I see my weapons. Big creep who refuses to deal with his own shit, got it. Anything else I gotta know?”

“Maybe get your gear checked out. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.” He frowned, one finger tapping on his cheek. “I know that your identity is a big deal, and I respect that, but the Fentons are probably your best bet. Well, after this.”

“Thanks for the head’s-up, anyway.” She turned her head, presumably to look at the dome above them. “Now what?”

“I’m gonna head back towards FentonWorks. You’re welcome to come along. Would probably comfort your dad, too, to know that you’re in the safest place in Amity Park.”

She nodded, shifting to follow him. “What kind of world do we live in where FentonWorks is the safest place in Amity?”

That startled a laugh out of him as they set off.

---

Danny stretched, hovering over one of the cluttered lab tables. His parents—or their counterparts from this universe—were hard at work on the Ecto-Skeleton, Vlad standing nearby. Not helping of course, God forbid. Just watching.

He was keeping an eye on Danny, but that was okay. Danny was keeping an eye on Vlad as well.

Once or twice, the man tried sneaking closer to him. Tried talking to him without anyone noticing. It hadn’t been very successful, not with Jack and Maddie in the lab. And hadn’t that been a surprise to Vlad? Finding Danny in his ghost form in the lab, his parents perfectly fine with that?

Jack sighed, interrupting Danny’s thoughts. “Let’s take a break, folks. Get some lunch.”

“I think I’ll keep working,” Vlad said, eyes on Danny the whole time. “I’m not hungry.”

Maddie threw him a skeptical look. “If you’re sure, Vlad. What about you, sweetie?”

Oh, he was so glad that his parents were playing along. Not using his name meant that Vlad had no idea of their knowledge.

“I’m good, thanks.” He flapped a hand. “You guys go get lunch, and Vlad and I will keep working.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but nodded. With Jack right behind her, she left the lab.

“They know, don’t they?” Vlad turned back to him, meeting his eyes. “That’s why they are so nice to you. They’re afraid of giving away your secret to me.”

Well, no point in denying. He shrugged at Vlad. “They were already nice before they figured it out.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Vlad sneered. “But here you are, spending ages in your ghost form. Why not shift back?”

“Why would I? It’s not like my ghost form is hurting me.” He drifted closer to the suit, until he was above clear space again. “Or do you dislike it, Vladdie?”

“Don’t call me that,” Vlad hissed back, his eyes flaring red for a brief moment. Ooh, temper, Vlad. “It doesn’t matter, anyhow. The invasion will get worse when no one finds the ring they want.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you’re not at fault for any of this, are you? Come on, man.”

“I don’t have the ring, if that’s what you are suggesting.”

“Yeah, because you gave it away to the Red Huntress.” He sighed, twisting until he was in a standing position, matching Vlad’s eye level. “Come on, I know exactly what’s going on. Just tell me why you thought it was a good idea to release a ghost of Pariah’s caliber, just to snatch a powerful artifact.”

Vlad flinched back, eyes narrowed. “How do you know about any of this?”

“Because people think I’m stupid when I’m not.” He grinned at Vlad, cocky. “What are you gonna do about it, Vladdie? Gonna tell my secret to my parents? Or, wait, what if they know already?”

“You little—” Vlad’s eyes flared red again, almost immediately followed by the dark-light rings that signaled his transformation. The other half-ghost didn’t wait a moment, lunging instantly.

Danny formed a shield, pushing Vlad away from the battle suit. “What are you really trying to achieve, man? You lost the Ring, you have no chance of getting the Crown, not while Pariah has it. Now what?”

“The suit will have to do,” Vlad hissed back, hands clenching. “But for now, I’m willing to settle for introducing your face to the floor.”

A bolt of green ectoplasm whistled past Vlad’s ear. Danny followed it back to its origin, finding the entire Fenton family at the bottom of the stairs.

“You talk too much,” Maddie said, almost complaintively. The glint in her eyes was angry.

“What?” Vlad’s eye clearly caught on Danny Fenton standing with his family. Vlad turned back towards him. “What’s…”

“You’ve been outplayed, Vladdie.” Danny shot an ice beam, freezing the older half-ghost to the wall. “Sorry, pal, but they heard everything.”

Pink flames formed around Vlad’s fists, and he started wriggling out of the ice. “No! I will not—”

“We know everything, Vlad.” Jack stepped forward, a disappointed frown on his face. “We’re sorry for the accident in college, for hurting you. But it’s not our fault that we weren’t allowed to visit you. It’s not our fault that you broke contact.”

“Being angry with us is one thing,” Maddie chimed in. “But attacking our children over it? Wanting to kill one of us? That’s too much, Vlad. You cannot honestly think that that’s okay.”

Vlad snarled, the ice around him cracking. “Oh, please. Like you know anything!”

“They know more than you do.” Jazz quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at Vlad. “They know everything, Vlad.”

“But we also believe in second chances.” Jack curled an arm around Maddie, keeping his eyes on Vlad. “We need to finish the Ecto-Skeleton, and we’ll need to fight that big ghost afterwards. Are you with us, or not?”

The ice cracked, Vlad almost completely free. “And what will you do if I refuse to fight with you?” he hissed, aura flaring bright. “Will you—”

The blue vortex of a Thermos interrupted him, wrapping him up entirely. Danny Fenton grinned, a close match to Danny’s own cocky grin. Other Danny capped the Thermos. “Now what?”

“We’ll have to discuss it later.” Maddie took the Thermos, carefully placing it aside. “For now, he can wait in there.” She sighed, clicked her tongue. “I can’t believe that man.”

“Thanks for telling us, Phantom.” Jack heaved a sigh. “And for helping us catch him.”

“Hopefully he’ll be more receptive to a stern talking-to than mine.” Danny floated closer towards them. “How’s progress on the battle suit?”

Maddie sighed, taking one last glance at the Thermos before turning to the suit. “It’s almost finished. If you two had any allies to gather, this might be a good moment for it.”

“Gotcha.” He nodded, and Jazz stepped up next to him. “Jazz, can you handle Sidney and Valerie? I’ll go get the others.”

“We have other allies?” she asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “But, sure.”

Light flashed as she shifted to her ghost form, drifting up. “I’ll be right back, then.”

“I might be a bit longer,” he admitted, both to her and to her parents. “I have some actual tracking down to do.”

Jazz nodded, flying off, and Danny quickly did the same. Some of these ghosts, he could find; he knew where they had been in his own universe. But others…

Well, he’d try his best, at least.

---

Jazz sighed, impatiently, watching over the people gathered in the lab. Both Sidney and Valerie had been reluctant to mingle, but had eventually caved to her insistence. Now Sidney was hovering next to Danny, Sam, and Tucker, talking about… modern schooling? And bullying? Hm. Well, at least they were getting along?

Valerie, on the other hand, had cornered Jack and Maddie, and was discussing ghost weaponry and gadgets.

Finally, though, Jazz’ ghost sense went off. She thought she could recognize Phantom’s signature, but she wasn’t sure… and it was far too strong.

But no, there he was. Phantom phased through the ceiling, followed by the allies he’d gathered. She counted… seven ghosts. Seven?! What the—

Phantom, floating above the rest of them, grinned. Threw his arms wide to gesture at the ghosts floating behind him. “Sorry it took a bit! Had to track down and convince all of these guys.”

Jazz went through the crowd, mentally. On the far left was a ghost she didn’t recognize; metal, humanoid, with green eyes and a matching flame mohawk. Next to him was Ember, followed by the Box Ghost, Lunch Lady, and then Desiree, and Dora on the furthest end, her amulet glowing brightly.

Another ghost she didn’t recognize floated up closer to Phantom. Big and bulky, a humanoid body-shape but with a wolf-like face, paws, and even a tail. The entire ghost was covered in thick black fur, and it had some dangerous looking claws on its front paws.

“Most of these are familiar faces, but I’ll introduce everyone anyway.” Phantom gestured at the ghost on the far left. “This is Skulker, Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter. Then there’s Ember, grand musician. The Box Ghost, self-explanatory. Lunch Lady, a killer cook. Desiree, wish-granter, and finally Dora, princess of Aragon.” He patted the ghost next to him on the arm. “And finally, this is Wulf! He only speaks a little English, mostly Esperanto.”

“You speak Esperanto?” Tucker asked, elbowing Danny. “Since when?”

“Since I befriended Wulf and realized I had no way of communicating,” Phantom retorted, rolling his eyes. “You folks wanna do an introductory round as well, or what?”

Jazz rolled her eyes, stepping forward. “I’m Specter, half-ghost. That’s Sidney, full ghost,” she pointed at him, and he raised a hand, clearly shy. “Next to him on the left is Danny, my brother. On Danny’s left is Sam, and furthest right is Tucker. They’re taking care of flight and small guns.”

She gestured at Valerie, who had stepped away from the adults. “That’s the Red Huntress, some of you might be familiar with her. She’s one of the local ghost hunters; she’ll be main fighter among the humans. Next to her are Jack and Maddie, my parents. They’re also ghost hunters, and they’ll be taking the big guns. Any questions?”

“Yeah, I got one.” Ember’s eyes narrowed, her hair flickering like a flame. “Why do the humans have specific roles when we don’t?”

“Uh.” Jazz made a face. “Honestly, we had no clue who Phantom was bringing. Also, you all know your skills best. The humans, we had to equip, but you guys can all work alone.”

Ember hummed, apparently satisfied with that.

Skulker, meanwhile, seemed to be suspiciously looking between Phantom and Danny. When Phantom noticed, however, he grinned widely at Skulker—all teeth and no humor. That was enough to throw the ghost off, who promptly pretended he hadn’t been doing that.

There was a story there, and Jazz wished that they had the time to go into it.

Something sniffed next to her, and she started. Jerked around to see Wulf next to her—and how had she missed a ghost of his size moving?

“Amika,” the ghost greeted her, before continuing in Esperanto.

“He’s pleased to make your acquaintance!” Tucker yelled, hurrying closer so he could help translating.

“Oh, uh.” She offered her hand to him. “Nice to meet you, too. Are you…” She ran over possible situations in her head. “Are you the ghost Phantom rescued in the Ghost Zone?”

Tucker spoke, presumably translating it. Wulf nodded, immediately.

“Apparently they are close friends back home, and…” Tucker paused, quietly talking back and forth with Wulf. “I guess Phantom asked Wulf to keep an eye on you, when he goes home?”

She blinked up at the large ghost and his bright green hoodie. Wulf’s tail wagged, slowly, hesitantly.

“I’m going to have to look up a course in Esperanto, then,” she said, grinning slowly.

They were unfortunately forced to end the conversation there, as Phantom cleared his throat. He was now standing on top of the finished Ecto-Skeleton.

With everyone’s attention drawn, Phantom spoke up. “So, everyone knows the plan?”

A general murmur of acknowledgment sounded.

“Good! Let’s get ready to go, then!” He underlined the statement by uncapping a Thermos; Jazz stiffened, expecting it to be Vlad’s, but no ghost came out. Instead Phantom shook out… a ring.

Or, no. The Ring, based on the gasps of all the other ghosts.

Phantom stuck it onto his finger, frowning down at it. Then, with a shrug, he phased into the Ecto-Skeleton, activating it.

“Is that safe?” Jazz asked, although she wasn’t sure who she was asking. Phantom must’ve heard her, though, because he shrugged—and the suit shrugged along.

“Safe enough,” he said dismissively. “The suit alone is too draining. It almost killed me in my own timeline, and I’m not risking that again.”

Phantom’s off-hand mention of his origin was… baffling. It also startled every ghost in the room except for Wulf. Well, now they were in for a quite talk, weren’t they?

But Phantom must’ve realized, because he grinned at the slew of ghosts. “How about this, folks. We take down Pariah, and then I’ll tell you guys all about it! And no one will be able to claim a role as Pariah’s Bane, because I’m not a local. Yeah?”

“Dipstick, you’re something else.” Ember shook her head, clicked her tongue, then nodded. “What are we waiting for, folks? Let’s go!”

The other ghosts cheered—or something close it, anyhow—all raising their fists. Phantom led them into the Ghost Zone, and Jazz only belatedly remembered that she was supposed to stay close to him. Quickly, she darted through the Portal as well.

Inside, the Ghost Zone was… vast. An enormous expanse of black, swirled through with green. It felt lighter than Earth. Not necessarily in a gravity way, but more… It was hard to explain.

“First time in the Zone, right?” Phantom asked, suddenly next to her. He grinned understandingly. “There’s more ambient ectoplasm, so you’re probably feeling that. I would offer to show you around, when this is all over, but…” He shrugged, making a face. “I’m not very good at navigating.”

Oh, yeah. That was how he’d gotten into her universe in the first place, wasn’t it? She’d almost forgotten. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

The Portal’s surface parted, and the cylindrical shape of the Specter Speeder burst through. Danny waved at her through the glass, with Sam behind the wheel and Tucker in the co-pilot seat. Not a moment later, Valerie flew through as well, her hoverboard loud in the silence of the Ghost Zone.

“Looks like we’re all here,” Phantom declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Specter and I will go at the front. Once we’re there, you guys will be in charge of clearing the way.”

“We know!” Valerie yelled back. “Let’s just go and get this over with!”

“I agree with the human hunter!” Plane-like wings folded open from Skulker’s back. “Go, whelp, and we’ll follow.”

Phantom rolled his eyes but did as said, taking lead. Jazz sped after him, forced to keep more of a distance than usual thanks to the Ecto-Skeleton.

Pariah’s castle is easy enough to recognize, a floating structure with the land in front of it filled with ghostly skeletons. Jazz lined up next to Phantom when he stopped, the others all coming to a halt in front of them.

“Showtime.” Ember cracked her knuckles, then swung her guitar to the front. “Let’s go, everybody!”

Ember’s dive was followed by the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady, side-by-side. Sidney and Desiree went right after them, Desiree’s hands glowing green. Valerie dove next, weaponry charging, and Skulker drew even with her, panels sliding open to reveal his own guns.

Dora shifted into a dragon, roaring, and Jazz could feel the sound reverberating in her bones. Wulf answered it with a howl, and the two plunged towards the ground as well.

Last but not least, the Specter Speeder swept forward, staying high where the ghosts went low. The doors on either side opened, Jack and Maddie leaning out, heavy weaponry in their hands. The built-in guns started charging as well—Danny’s work.

She and Phantom stayed behind, watching the skeleton army get eviscerated. Before long, even the larger guards at the door were cleared out—or otherwise drawn away—and Phantom nodded at her. “Road’s clear. You got the key?”

“Yep.” She patted the pocket of her belt that held it. “You take care of Pariah, and I’ll make sure he won’t get out again.”

“Good. Let’s show him what we’re made of.” Phantom dove before she could answer, so fast that Jazz couldn’t even keep up. But that was okay—he was supposed to keep Pariah’s attention.

By the time she made it to Pariah’s throne room, Phantom had already engaged the ghost in a fight. And, wow. For some reason she’d imagined Pariah to be, y’know, mostly human sized. Not this massive bulking ghost, with twisting horns and a crown made of literal flames. Yikes. She was kind of glad she wasn’t the one fighting.

Phantom split himself, three duplicates joining him. All four versions of him shot ecto-blasts at Pariah, and the ghost was pushed back.

“You miserable pest,” Pariah grumbled, shaking off the hit. “You think you can stand up to me?”

“Ha!” All of the Phantoms grinned, viciously, but only one continued speaking. “I know I can stand up to you! I am Danny Phantom, half-ghost hero from another dimension. Pariah’s Bane!”

That caught the full ghost off-guard, because he blinked. The moment of surprise was enough. Two of the duplicates grabbed Pariah’s arms, and the third pushed against his chest.

Pariah seemed to struggle, but the final Phantom shot an ecto-blast at his feet. Pariah stumbled, almost tripping, and the three duplicates shoved.

The fourth Phantom shot forward as well, sweeping around the Sarcophagus. After a moment of consideration, Jazz followed him.

Phantom’s duplicates gave another shove, and Pariah knocked against the back of the Sarcophagus. The moment he crossed the threshold, Phantom himself pushed against the door, shutting it.

Jazz darted around him, the key already in her hand. It slid into the lock easily, and she twisted it.

It clicked shut.

The three duplicates dissipated instantly, and Phantom sunk to the ground, Ecto-Skeleton and all. It disengaged, the top clicking open, and he cheered weakly. “Whoo, we won!”

“We won!” she cheered back, flying over to him. “Are you okay?”

“I need a nap,” he confessed, slumping against her. “But we won!”

[fart-gate]

SG1

Season 2 episode 5

"NEED"

Notes by me

- heard this episode was some good shit with lots of cough whump cough here we goooooo

- the goauld are collecting raw naquada. What do they need it for

- oh I love the pyramid ships their so cool

- *Daniel runs off recklessly*

"Wish he'd stop doing that!"

- its a cloaked lady!

- when she turns around and sees Daniel for the first time. 404 cloaked lady has stopped working

- Jack is so aggravated at Daniel for being too nice

- OKAY what the fuck dude. Get your disgusting hands off my Sam or I'll punch you in the throat

- I dont think theyre gonna listen to reason Daniel

- miners!

- Sam can sense worms??? She got worm radar ????

- "I get a weird feeling when im around tealc"

"hey who doesnt"

- ITS BREAK OUT TIME

- "lets go daniel!!"

"I'm coming!"

So innocent 😭

- shit is he dead again👀

- that must have hurt like a mother fucker yikes. Reminds me of the episode of BBC Merlin when the rockslide came down and separated him and arthur

- gurl not even a minute ago you were gonna commit suicide and now you want to take over after your dad? Make up yo damn mind

- a sarcophagus! Oh its Daniel

- NICE OUTFIT

- no glasses!Daniel

- she says she dressed him in new clothes while looking him up and down like lady what the fuck. You taking peeps at my boy? You wanna fuckin fight?

- "personal responsibility for you" basically shes saying she owns you now buddy you better run

- wait how many times has he used the sarc now? Its about 3 times I think

- "glass circles" lol

- damn theyre cracked. Makes me think how many times daniel has broken or lost his glasses and had to get new ones.

- whys she so goddamn CREEPY

- why is she so fascinated with trees my respect for her goes down with every second

- she wants to hit that and you know what? She's valid

- "youre my destiny"

"BLEHGR ......what???"

On all levels except physical, Daniel is barfing so hard right now

- also ???? Destiny??? Ok george mcfly

- this psycho: anyway so me and my mom....

daniel: can we back track for a sec I have some thoughts

- "surprisingly difficult to kill you isnt it?" You got no idea Jack smh

- "nice dress"

- sg1 as slaves is something tho 👀

- I'm laughing theyre throwing a feast for Daniel while the rest of them mine coal. Tough luck guys

- 700 years old YIKES

- "I dont think you understand what they mean to me" ❤💕❤💕❤💕❤☺❤☺❤❤❤❤☺☺☺💗💗💗

- daniel being treated like the princesses boy toy lol

- honey.......dont sleep in the sarc

- what possessed him to think that this is a good idea

- jack, tealc, and Sam update: still in the mine!

- DANIELS HAIR IS POOF

- hes LOST his marbles

- "and look!!! No glasses!!" Hes so excited

- hes getting obsessed with this thing

- 9 or 10 times in the sarc???

Jack: hes drunk as fuck

- hes definitely considering marrying her. Bro youre already married. Did you forget

- Temper!Daniel

- ok so hes totally brain washed!

- he felt out of place on earth :(. You know what? The Sarc is bringing out his deep down thoughts and feelings. Things he wouldnt ever tell anyone bc when hes in his right mind, his logic counter acts these thoughts. But his logic is gone so hes just voicing everything he normally wouldn't

- sams memories of jolinar telling her whats what with the sarc! 💪

- its taking his SOUL WHAT THE HELL

- lounging!Daniel "HI JACK!!"

- hes LOST IT FOLKS THATS IT. HES AN EMPTY VESSEL NO THOUGHTS

- kicking his little feet

- of course he wants to marry a woman he met 4 days ago

- "he cant live without me anymore" OH THIS GIRLS A BITCH. SHE DID THIS TO HIM ON PURPOSE. ALRIGHT LADY SQUARE UP SOMEONE HOLD MY BEER

- "we offer the friendship of our world"

".......well thanks"

Jack is having NONE of her shit and I wholeheartedly agree

- awkward kissing!!

- jittery!daniel

- sir that is no way to talk about your wife. So what if shes different when u get her back! So are you! People change! God not having a logic filter in your brain must be exhausting

- concerned!Sam

- ALRIGHT when you start knocking shit over on purpose its time to sit in the corner on time out

- hes having withdrawals. Didnt I already say this man has been thru Enough

- Jack literally jumps on him to hold him down. Did he crush daniels pelvis or what

- Sam is right they need to let him go thru it 😩

- how the hell did he pull fraiser all the way over him lmfao hes not that strong

- oh boy! Crazy!Daniel

- 🚨the archeologist is loose🚨

- "I know what its like" oh???? Jack has dealt with addiction????

- caretaker!jack

- this is heart breaking

- when he just hugs him. Just holds him. The acting from both of them is making me sob

- P3H826 is ready to be sg1s next mission!

- daniels okay!!!! He got thru it ✊😌

- P3R636 is the planet with the Sarc and princess dick face.

- "id like Daniel back on the team" 😤😤😤😤😤😤

- I dont care about you! Stupid bitch! Manipulative ass hat

- Daniel step away from the sarc

- clearly you have no idea what love is if you think its just keeping ppl hostage

- he literally tells her to stop using it and she IMMEDIATELY picks up a staff weapon and blows it to hell like it took zero effort to convince her

- welp! Cry all you want! Youre a dumb bitch and I hope i never see you again lol

- Let Daniel Rest 2k20

~

Whump under the cut

Daniel jackson whump: threatened, gunpoint, sore, nervous, crushed by rockslide, healed by sarc, addiction, brain washing, jittery, withdrawal, anger outbursts , passing out, hospital scene, red eyes, sweaty, pleading, restrained, losing his mind, crying, breaking down, caretaker Jack.

Jack Oniell whump: kicked, hit with staff, coughing, fight with daniel

Whole team whump: forced kneeling, dirty, tired, weak, forced to mine

No glasses!Daniel for 90% of episode

🎶listening to Happiness Is A Warm Gun from Across The Universe Soundtrack🎶 for daniels struggle with addiction

🎶listening to Gone by Bazzi🎶 for Daniel being so confident that he was fine

[theonyxpath]

Two young men trudged through the desert, far from the city’s limits. The first, adorned in fur and jewelry, led the second, dressed in flax cloth.

“There it is!” The first man pointed to a half-buried obelisk stone.

“You brought me here to see a rock?” the second man asked. “Once your family realizes we’re gone—”

“We’ll be back before nightfall.” The first man dug into the sand beneath the stone, and pulled out an effigy of a cat, carved from lapis lazuli. “I wanted you to see this.”

The second man examined it. “Another rock?”

He traced his fingers over the sculpted patches of fur and around the perfectly re-created scar over its left eye. He shook his head and smiled.

“Mouser,” he said, “It’s Mouser!”

The first man grinned. “I know you loved her very much. I crafted this from my memories of her. Now, she will be the Pharaoh of Mice.”

The second man hugged the effigy. “Thank you.”

“That’s not all,” the first man said, “I will present it to the Tef-Aabhi, and they will look upon my work and proclaim me a fellow master craftsman. Then, I will bring you with me. We will no longer be master and servant, but guildmates. Your family won’t live in the barracks anymore.”

The second man looked at the first, shocked. “You don’t mean that.”

The first man put his hands on the shoulders of the second, and looked deeply into his gray eyes. “I do. I will aid you and your family for as long as I live. I promise.”

? ? ?

Pert-en-hat opened his eyes and grasped at the leather seats. He took a moment to gather his surroundings. It was 2020, and he sat in one of the self-moving chariots his cult called a “van.”

The man sitting at Pert-en-hat’s left reached over and grasped his chest. “Easy there, we just hit a bump.”

The mummy grabbed the man’s wrist. “Who said that you could touch me?”

“Wait!” The man shouted. “It’s me, Tristian! The thief you hired?”

“Pert-en-hat,” the woman to his right said, “He’s telling the truth. Let him go.”

He looked at her, stared into her gray eyes, and released the man.

“I am sorry,” Pert-en-hat said, “When the relic calls to me, my mind gets…distorted.”

He watched Tristian shake his wrist and felt a twinge of shame. A year ago, he would have shattered the thief’s arm in three places and summoned a swarm of beetles to devour him before a single cry of mercy crossed his lips. It would have been wrong to do so, but the power would have come naturally. Now, mustering the strength to grab someone was a challenge.

“What did it tell you?” The woman asked.

“Its name,” the mummy said, “It is the ‘Pharaoh of Mice.’”

“So we’ve got its name and where the bastard’s keeping it,” Tristian said, “That’s all I need to know. I’ll give my people the update.”

Tristian got on the phone. As he talked, the woman leaned over to study Pert-en-hat’s face.

“You learned something else, didn’t you?” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You can tell me.”

“Farah, I saw its creator.”

“Was it someone you knew?”

“In a sense, yes.”

“My lord, I don’t understand. Who is it?”

Pert-en-hat sighed. “The relic. It’s mine.”

?? ?? ??

The young man expected to see one of the master craftsmen when he entered the guildhall. Instead, the seven cloaked guildmasters of the Tef-Aabhi beckoned him from the atrium into a private hall, and shut the door behind him.

He fell to his hands and knees before them.

“Most holy Shan’iatu!” He prostrated. “Forgive me; I did not intend to shirk my labor, only to demonstrate my craft.”

He looked up, just for a moment. Their faces were well-hidden by the hoods of their cloaks.

One of them spoke in a husky, feminine voice. “We know what you’ve done. Show us what it can do.”

“Of course.” The man stood up. He invoked the Pharaoh of Mice, speaking its name and holding it above his head. A mouse poked its head from a crack in the floor. Another squeezed through a crevice in the ceiling. Mice from all over the guildhall poured into the room, crowding the floor and standing at attention.

“It controls the weak,” the man said. “As long as you believe you rule them, they cannot disobey. Watch.”

He commanded the vermin to leave. They fled the room. The workers outside shrieked and cursed as the rodents ran as one through the guildhall’s exit. The mice continued into the town, and then to the sands beyond.

He said, “If it pleases the Shan’iatu, I shall add this treasure to the panoply and take my place as master craftsman.”

There was a moment of silence.

“No,” said the husky voice. “You have earned something greater, should you accept it.”

The man blinked. “Yes, of course! What is it?”

The Shan’iatu looked at him, and for a moment he saw the heads of animals, not people.

“You will learn,” the husky voice said, “In due time.”

??? ??? ???

Tristian looked up at the skyscraper, shaking his head. “Robbing a corporate headquarters in broad daylight. You people are my kind of crazy.”

“It’s the only way we can get to the relic,” Farah said. “If Pert-en-hat’s visions are right, it’s in Mr. Collins’ personal safe, and we need him to open it up before you move in.”

“Right.” He looked over the building’s blueprints. “I’ve gotta say, this is a way better deal than what I thought we were going to get when we robbed his tomb. I could get used to this.”

“He recruited you,” Farah said, “because he saw potential. If it had been any other tomb, you and your friends would not be alive right now. Remember that, before you get too comfortable.” She waved over a woman to join them.

“This is Emma,” she said. “She’s the eldest of us. She’ll be heading in for an interview with Mr. Collins. Once she gets him to open the safe, she’ll signal your team over the radio.”

“Good to meet you, Emma.” Tristian took her in, low-cut dress and all. “You know, for the oldest member, you don’t look a day over 22.”

Emma smiled. “Thanks, but she was 26 when I stole her body.” She winked at him and walked into the building.

He laughed. “She’s kidding, right? Right?”

Farah pulled out a jar of red liquid from her jacket and drew a sigil into the ground.

???? ???? ????

The young man shuffled deeper into the tunnels beneath the city, where the pillars dug into the earth. He moved shoulder-to-shoulder with other workers. He recognized some of his fellow sculptors.

Earlier that day, a group of Maa-Kep dragged the grey-eyed young man and his family from his home. The young man, the family’s master, witnessed their arrest and demanded an explanation. They would not tell him why they captured them or where they were going. When he struck one of the secret police to the ground, the rest overpowered him and carried him to his guildhall.

There, servants stripped him of his finery and bathed him. They held him down and poured a bitter drink into his throat. They clothed him in robes with hieroglyphics he didn’t recognize and sent him to march with the others.

Now, his head swam as he created the end of the corridor. He stumbled and tried to grasp the wall with an unfeeling arm. His grip lost strength, and he slammed face-first into the floor. Two cloaked figures, Shan’iatu, carried him to an altar. Blood from his broken noise stained it. They did not care.

“What is this? The young man’s question mingled with the sound of chanting and screaming nearby.

One of the Shan’iatu lifted a long, copper spike above the young man’s head.

“You earned this.” The man recognized her husky, feminine voice. “You accepted it. Our empire is eternal, and you will be its vessel.”

She thrust the spike into his forehead. It was his first death.

????? ????? ?????

Pert-en-hat’s cultists assured him the plan would work. With Farah’s sorcery, the body thief as decoy, and the aid of world-class thieves, they would take the Pharaoh of Mice, and he would return to Duat with the relic without lifting a finger.

They hadn’t expected their mark to find the body thief’s radio. They couldn’t have imagined that he knew they were coming. They were not prepared for Mr. Collins using the vessel and commanding every employee to hunt down the team.

They would need him after all, and he would need to gather all the strength in his dying body. He sprinted into the building, tossing away the glassy-eyed workers trying to tackle him. When he reached the elevator doors, he ripped them from the wall and hurled them into the crowd. He leaped into the empty elevator shaft. His body melted into the concrete floor on impact and he swam through the building like a fish moving upstream. The Pharaoh of Mice shone like a beacon among the skyscraper’s inferior materials and mediocre architecture. He followed its light.

He emerged from the floor of Mr. Collins’ office. The relic stood on the businessman’s desk. It radiated warmth that soothed the mummy. Mr. Collins stood between Pert-en-hat and his goal. Beneath him sat Farah and the others, tied together.

“So.” Mr. Collins kept his gun trained on the captives. “You’re the man who wants to steal my treasure.”

?????? ?????? ??????

Pert-en-hat rose from his sarcophagus, confused. He knew Emma, but she was surrounded by strangers.

“This is your master,” she said to the others. “Kneel before him!”

They did so, save for a woman no older than her late teens. Instead, she moved to him, close enough to get a clear view of her face in the dim torchlight. Her gray eyes seemed alight with wonder. Pert-en-hat stood dumbfounded.

“No!” Emma shouted. “You don’t know what he’ll do!”

“It’s you,” the young woman said, “from my dreams. My father, and his grandfather, they served you. Do you remember?”

The muscles on Pert-en-hat’s skinless face twitched. His mind’s eye saw vague memories of a young man in the desert with eyes like hers, but nothing else. “No.”

The woman sighed. “We’ll give it some time, then. I’m Farah.”

??????? ??????? ???????

Mr. Collins stood with a hunch. His eyes were bloodshot and his clothes were soaked in sweat. His body had a corpse’s pallor.

“You’re dying,” Pert-en-hat said. “Without the proper invocation, it feeds on you. There’s still time. Give it to me, and I can save you.”

“Save me?” Mr. Collins wheezed out a laugh. “When I have the power of a god? No. It’s not me you should worry about.”

He shot Farah in the chest. She slumped over. Her blood soaked into the rope.

“I have more than enough for the rest of—”

Before Mr. Collins finished his sentence, Pert-en-hat leaped on him and smashed his head through his desk, the floor, and several inches into the concrete below both. He convulsed and went still. Emma struggled against the rope. “Farah? Stay with us! Farah!”

“She’s not dead,” Tristian said, “Not yet.”

Pert-en-hat lifted the Pharaoh of Mice from the ruins of Mr. Collins’ desk. He traced his fingers along the patches in its fur, and the scar on its eye.

A husky, feminine voice echoed in his mind. Leave them. They can be replaced. Return it to me.

The mummy’s head ached. “I…”

“Master, do something. Please!” Emma yanked her body away from Farah. “The police���ll be here any minute!”

Return it to me. It’s mine!

“No,” Pert-en-hat said. “It’s mine!”

He crushed the Pharaoh of Mice in his hands and its power flowed through him. The pain in his body ceased, and he cried to the heavens in joy.

He tore the rope binding the cultists. He placed a hand on Farah’s chest, over the bullet wound. “Live!”

His life force flooded her body and her wound sealed. She coughed up gold-tinted blood.

Pert-en-hat felt a chill spread from his chest to his limbs. His skin shriveled and he fell to the floor. Farah and the others grabbed his body, but their voices sounded far away.

Before he returned to the sleep of death, the voice in his head spoke once more. I am very disappointed in you. But I am merciful. We will try again. After all, you are my most beloved servant.

???????? ???????? ????????

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition is currently on Kickstarter.

[nillial]

under starry skies

what’s up y’all!! it’s me back on my bullshit and with a taz amnesty fic. episode 28 spoilers ahead!!

a story detailing what dani, pigeon, and mama are up to after ned’s death. everyone’s more or less where they were when the last episode ended. and they’re all goin’ through it.

warnings: major character death and graphic depictions of violence 

read it on ao3! 

-

When Dani comes to, she hears the familiar soft trickling of waters she knows well, feels rough, calloused hands pulling her up by the shoulders, and sees a starry night sky with a storm brewing on the horizon.

“Dani?” A voice asks from above her.

“Barclay,” she says, surprised by how hoarse her voice is, “what happened?” Barclay sighs and lets go of her, swinging his legs over the side of the pond. “What do you remember?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Most of her recent memories are a blur. “I— I remember— I remember being attacked by something, and I remember getting hit, and— and then it was dark, and— Barclay, really, what happened?”

“Don’t worry about it for now,” he says. “Just get some rest. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Dani nods, because God, she’s tired, and slips further into the pond, leaning back against the bank. She hears the loud booming of thunder in the distance, but can’t bring herself to care about the prospect of an approaching storm. The water is nice and her eyelids are heavy. She’s never wanted to sleep more in her life.

Maroon clouds swirl against the dark blue of the night sky, and, although she should probably be concerned about how the clouds are red, she’s too exhausted and too lost in how pretty it all is to care. White pinpricks of light shine through wisps that have broken off of heavy storm clouds. Dani has always loved the stars. They seem brighter tonight.

“Beautiful night,” says Dani, too soft to be heard.

And she drifts off under a starry sky.

-

Pigeon is shaking and she can’t stop.

She killed Ned.

She killed Ned.

She killed Ned.

And she can’t get the image out of her head— the look on his face, the way he crumpled to the ground in a matter of seconds, the blood— and her mind can’t stop replaying the way his life drained out of his eyes until there was nothing there anymore. He was just staring straight up at the sky. And, although Pigeon might chalk it up to her imagination if she didn’t remember it so vividly, he was smiling. Just a little smile. Almost imperceptible. But it was there.

She tosses her rifle into the woods. She doesn’t want to hold a gun ever, ever again.

She doesn’t know what to do. The sheriff told her something about law and consequence and going to trial, which, shit, she’s probably going to prison, isn’t she? She didn’t catch most of it. She was too preoccupied with thinking about how she killed Ned Chicane. And how she was prepared to kill the girl who attacked him. A girl that Ned died trying to protect, which meant that that girl might have been human once. That, or Ned had some sort of messed-up death wish.

Jesus, Pigeon, she thinks, you fucking killed a man and now you’re criticizing his thought process?

She probably made things a lot worse by running from the sheriff before he was even done speaking. Pigeon doesn’t care right now, though. She has to follow Aubrey. Aubrey has to know it was an accident. That all of it was a horrible, horrible accident.

The look on Aubrey’s face when she found Ned is burned into her brain. Aubrey didn’t even believe it, at first, which was the worst thing— she tried to tell herself that, no, Ned wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be dead, while Pigeon just stood there with her rifle still smoking. And then she tried to do something to him with what Pigeon assumed was magic. All she knew was that there was this golden glow from under Aubrey’s hands, and Aubrey was wide-eyed and crying, and Pigeon, just for a second, had hope. Hope that Ned would wake up and look around and have a good laugh. Or start screaming at her. It didn’t matter. Pigeon just wanted the blood off of her hands and for Ned to be fine. She didn’t know him very well, but on the TV programs and in the museum, he seemed so full of energy. But then he hit the ground, and the life drained out of his face— a life she had taken.

The magic didn’t work. Aubrey ran off.

Hollis told her that Aubrey and Ned and Duck were all keeping secrets from the people of Kepler, and Pigeon knows they have been. She has known. And she felt helpless because she wants to protect people, but she can’t defend herself against one of those monsters all alone. So when Hollis asserted that the three of them by themselves weren’t enough to protect the whole of the town— that the people, not just an exclusive team of three, needed to band together to prevent disaster, Pigeon agreed. She joined the Hornets in a sorry attempt to really do something about the danger looming over Kepler. First few weeks on the job and she shoots one of the people trying to protect it.

The more she thinks about it, the less she believes that Aubrey, Ned, and Duck were doing wrong by Kepler by not letting its residents know about the monsters. They were afraid of panic, and of people getting hurt, and they were right. Pigeon panicked and someone got hurt.

She completes her journey, breathless and exhausted but with enough adrenaline to keep her standing. She bursts into the room before her, and the scene she’s greeted by is— something else.

There’s a middle-aged woman with a book in front of her, surrounded by all kinds of people, some of which she doesn’t think are human and some who she knows definitely aren’t human at all, and they’re all doing some sort of… magic. And Pigeon hears the wind roaring outside, relentless and terrible, and she has the feeling some massive shit is going down, but she can’t leave without telling Aubrey how sorry she is. If she does anything before a Kepler-wide apocalypse begins, that’s it.

“Aubrey,” says the middle-aged woman, “is that… a friend?”

Aubrey whips around, and as soon as she sees Pigeon, her lip curls, and her eyes, puffy, tears already threatening to spill again, narrow. She strides towards her, fists balled. “What are you doing here?” she hisses.

“Ned,” Pigeon manages to choke out, still struggling to catch her breath.

“This isn’t the best time. If you haven’t noticed—” She gestures towards the window, which reveals a giant crimson red cloud. “ — I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“I know, Aubrey, and I’ll leave you be in just a minute, I only—”

“You’re goddamn right you’ll ‘leave me be.’ I’ll toss you out that door myself. What makes you think I have to listen to you after you fucking killed Ned?”

Pigeon takes a deep breath as the same vivid scene replays— aim, fire, blood. 

“Aubrey, you’re absolutely right, I had no right comin’ here—”

“Of course I’m right, get the fuck out—”

“-- but you have to understand that I had no intention of killin’ Ned.”

Aubrey closes her eyes shut and runs her hands down her face. “Yeah, no, I got that. I understand that you didn’t mean to kill him. But you did, Pigeon, and he’s dead because of you. I’m not going to just… excuse you.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here, Pigeon? To apologize? ‘Jeez, sorry I killed your friend, totally my fault.’ Seriously, what do you expect me to do? Give you a hug and tell you it’s okay while the world ends outside?” She gestures again to the red cloud, which seems to be accumulating more mass. “It’s not fucking okay, Pigeon! You took his life! Ned is dead! And he died thinking I hated him, Pigeon, and I did, I think I still do, but— but this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Not by some dumbass kid with a fucking rifle.”

Pigeon has to fight to speak through the tightness in her throat. “I was just… just tryin’ to protect him.”

“Protect him? How? By putting a bullet through his chest?”

“No, Aubrey, there was a— sarcophagus, and— a vampire stepped out of it. I swear on what little honor I have left, there was a real, honest vampire, and she was going to kill him if I didn’t—”

“Stop,” Aubrey says, and she’s wide-eyed, her brows furrowed not in anger, but in concern. “What did the vampire look like?”

Pigeon is taken aback a little, but goes on anyways. “Uh, she… She just had these real sharp fangs and horrible eyes, slits for pupils, and… she was wearin’ people clothes. Like, just clothes any one of us would wear, I mean, but they were kinda torn. And, uh… she had blonde hair, but it was real messy and greasy like she’d been in there a while. You gotta understand, Aubrey, she was actin’ absolutely wild, like she was gonna kill us, and I was afraid she’d lunge for Ned or the sheriff or somethin’. She was the one I was tryin’ to shoot. Not Ned.”

And then Pigeon sees the look on Aubrey’s face, and she’s just so utterly heartbroken. Her expression is a mix of shock and anger and absolute devastation, and Pigeon gets the feeling that Aubrey wouldn’t have forgiven her no matter where the bullet landed.

Aubrey takes a deep, shaky breath, and leans in close to Pigeon. “I told Ned I wanted him gone. Now he’s dead by your hands and I’d do anything to bring him back,” she says, resentment radiating off of her. “But, frankly, Pigeon, I don’t care what happens to you. I don’t ever want to see your face again, and if I do, there will be hell to pay. Make no mistake.”

Pigeon just stands and stares and trembles because there’s nothing else she can do.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Aubrey says, turning away from her, “I’ve got a town to save, and I’d prefer it if you stayed out of the way.”

-

Mama still has Ned’s head resting in her lap when she hears sirens in the distance.

Ned is gone. She knows that. She watched the life leave his eyes. She felt his corpse grow cold. She sees him now, his face devoid of color and his body unmoving, but it doesn’t… feel real.

Mama has seen the same thing happen over and over and over again. She’s watched her colleagues die from unfathomable beings and from monsters with more strength than what anyone or anything on Earth could dream of having. She’s watched people she’s known for years die horrible, slow, painful deaths and she’s watched them die so quickly that she didn’t notice they were dead until they were already gone. The moment this new Pine Guard became the new Pine Guard, she was prepared to experience the same thing.

Or she thought she was, at least.

Ned’s death wasn’t like the rest. There was no gore, no abomination looming directly over them, no ghastly screaming that would ring in her ears and keep her up at night. Ned’s death, while awful and bloody and unexpected, was so much more normal than what she’s used to. Which means there’s no abomination right in front of her to take it out on, no way to avenge him, and no option of mourning the fallen after the thing that killed him is dealt with. Mama is left alone with her thoughts and a dead man on her lap.

Ned wasn’t even killed by a thing. He was killed by a little girl. A little girl with a soul and a conscience and a set of morals. A little girl whose immediate regret was visible on her face the second the shot rang out. A murderer, but an unwilling one, and still a scared little girl. Mama couldn’t bring herself to speak to her. She didn’t know how to. She still doesn’t.

Pigeon ran into the woods in the same direction as Aubrey. A bad idea, in Mama’s mind, but an ethical one. She’s wasting her time, though. Aubrey is probably still grappling with the fact that Ned is dead and not just gone. Pigeon’s presence will only make things worse.

There’s a part of Mama that wishes he had been killed by an abomination and not a kid. At least then she’d have some way to distract herself. Some kind of monster to focus on killing instead of focusing on who’s been killed.

She hopes Dani is alright by the time she gets back to the Lodge. She’s not sure what she’ll do otherwise.

The sheriff comes back with the coroner and a couple of paramedics in tow. One comes advancing with a body bag in their arms.

“Just wait a minute,” she tells them, holding out her hand in front of her. “Just… don’t do all that yet.”

They pause. They look at the sheriff, then back at her.

Sheriff Owens sighs. He descends to the ground and sits down beside her.

“Well, Mama,” he says, “what’s on your mind?”

She shrugs.

“Mama, you’ve got a corpse next to you and you don’t want him to be taken to the morgue. There’s somethin’.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t know. It is somethin’. I’m just not sure what.”

“Understandable. Why don’t you let the coroner take Ned here and we’ll figure it out?”

Mama averts her eyes and instead looks at trees, then at the grass, then down at her lap. “Can’t he just be left alone? Do we really gotta do the whole— body bag thing?”

“Well, I don’t want him to rot out here.”

“But… just… puttin’ him in a plastic sack? It hasn’t been that long, Sheriff.” “It ain’t like he’s gonna get tossed into a ditch somewhere. We can have a funeral. Get him a nice headstone. The whole thing. I’m sure everyone would pitch in.”

She rests her chin in her hands. “It just don’t feel right to me. It don’t feel right to bury a man who—”

“A man who’s dead?” Sheriff Owens finishes.

She’s silent for a minute. “Hard to believe he’s dead.”

“I get it, Mama. It’s hard to watch someone die and harder when they’re a friend.”

“No, Sheriff, I—” She takes a long, deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “Sheriff, I’ve seen bodies that have been mangled beyond recognition, and I’ve watched people yell last words while their innards spill out, and I’ve held too many friends while they died at the hands of somethin’ twice as strong as the both of us combined. I’ve lost people dear to me at the hands of beasts and I buried them myself, so I couldn’t tell you why this is fuckin’ me up so much. I’ve been friends with Ned just a few months, and in those months he’s lied to me and stolen from me, but I liked him alright despite that. I was prepared for him to die, but I wasn’t prepared for him to die like this. Not by tryin’ to kill a monster, but by tryin’ to save someone who would have killed him had she gotten the chance. And I know he’s dead, I do, but I— I just keep expectin’ him to wake up.”

Sheriff Owens doesn’t say anything. Then, quiet and soft, he says, “I think it’s time to let him go, Mama.”

Mama nods wordlessly, grabs her cane, and gently eases Ned’s head off of her lap. She offers Sheriff Owens her hand. Together, they rise to their feet.

Sheriff Owens signals for the coroner and paramedics to approach. Mama watches them zip Ned up in a body bag. She hates seeing him like that, so she chooses to look at the surrounding trees instead, and then she notices—

She notices that everything is painted in just the slightest shade of red.

Slowly, hesitantly, she looks towards the sky.

A fast approaching storm rolls in, covering half of the night sky in dark, angry red clouds. Thunder booms from somewhere beyond her, loud and menacing, and lightning crackles and strikes at the woods below. The stars blink out, one by one, as heavy clouds hide them from the surface, shrouding the whole of Kepler in inescapable, impenetrable red-tinted darkness. Sheriff Owens races away ahead of her, back to where he entered from, to where the Hornets are guiding the people to safety, but Mama stays and just stares.

She knows, from somewhere deep within her, that Kepler is going to be razed to the ground.

Her body screams at her to run and to not stop running. To gather everyone up and leave town while she still can.

Mama doesn’t move.

[granny-griffin]

tumbling forward we spin on 2/4

Avariya broke the window of her father's apartment with a loose brick she'd found in the courtyard. After climbing gingerly over the broken glass she went to the kitchen and rummaged around for the junk drawer. They were there. She snatched up the scissors, marched straight to the bathroom, and began cutting her hair off at the scalp.

There were five memories from her time alone that would stick out. No matter how faded her childhood grew in her old age, these five scenes stayed vivid. She couldn't have told you why. But this moment—standing alone in front of the mirror, chopping piece after piece until her head was bare except for a vague white fuzz—this moment would become the first of them.

[This is part two—read part one first. Thanks @masterfuldoodler for teaching me how to put links in posts.]

The second occurred a few weeks later. She had been scrounging dinner from the other apartments on the compound. One night she ran into somebody else who had the same idea. Frightened out of her wits, Avariya scampered out of the compound, down the street, and in the door of the first building that wasn't locked. It was a museum. For a moment she thought she was safe, and then she heard footsteps. A whole band of marauders was prowling through the halls, probably attracted by the various treasures which had been suddenly abandoned. Avariya grabbed a short sword from a nearby display and huddled behind a giant stone sarcophagus with weird runes scratched all over it. Somehow she knew that she was just like all the things on display. If someone were to come and steal her, there wouldn't be anything she could do about it, sword or no sword.

She crouched there all night. Nobody noticed her.

The third was in winter. It didn't snow, but the rain was coming down in sheets. By then she knew to stay away from buildings when she could. Where there were buildings there were people. But it was cold and wet, so she did the stupid thing and ducked into a doorway that looked relatively nonthreatening. Inside she found a nice spot to sit and drip water onto the floor. She was hungry, but she couldn't think of anything she could do to get food. Huddled there against the stone was she looked up and saw them—rows and rows of books.

Shakily, Avariya got to her feet and began to walk along the rows. She moved faster and faster until she was running from shelf to shelf, reading the labels on the ends of the aisles. Action Adventure, Fantasy, Horror, Mystery, Romance...these were all fictional. She turned and ran to the other side of the library. There were other categories here; Biography, Book Reviews, Encyclopedias, Guides—she skidded to a halt. This had to be it. She walked down the Guides aisle and began skimming the book titles. Methods for Tidying up Your Life, Tips on Making Friends and Being Popular, How to Read Books—and then she saw it, just above her eye level, thick and faded. An Adventurer's Guide to Survival in the British Countryside. She snatched it off the shelf and flipped through the pages. There were sections on edible plants, simple traps, field dressing game, shelter construction, and so many more. Avariya slid to the floor and started to cry. This was it—this was how she was going to survive.

The next moment was months later. She'd gathered up enough confidence to start raiding buildings again. This one had already collapsed in on itself, so she didn't need to worry about it collapsing while she was inside. She had found some pretty useful things in the rubble (three cans of tuna, a sash she could hang her sword off of, and a spool of thread she could use to mend her clothes and pack) when she lifted up a loose board and saw a handheld radio.

It was a cool gadget, but it wasn't useful anymore. Nobody was broadcasting anything these days. She picked it up anyway and began fiddling with the dials. Suddenly she heard a voice. She dropped the radio and spun around—who was here? She'd thought she was alone.

When the voice came again, this time from her feet, she knew it was the radio.

That night she found a nice spot by the Thames, turned the radio on, and listened until the dawn was pink in the sky. There was only one station—the city of London's official broadcast. England may have fallen, but the city of London had a power structure that had been around since time immemorial and it wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon. In the time since the ships had left they'd set up a militia force to guard the farms.

It took Avariya a bit to figure that one out. Around midnight, someone named Linda got on the air and explained—so many people from the British Isles had left Earth that the whole infrastructure gone down. Which meant nobody was supplying the supermarkets. Linda had packed her bags and used the rest of the gas in her car to high tail it out of town. She stopped at the nearest abandoned farm and began to care for the stray animals roaming the area. She now had 38 chickens, 29 ducks, 3 cows, 10 cats, an herb garden, and a goat. Things had been tough for a while what with the raiders and all, but now that the city of London had sent out the militia force to make sure that the food raised by people like her stayed not stolen long enough to make it to a market, she wasn't having any trouble bringing in an income. Now she just needed to figure out how to keep the goat from eating the rosemary. 

Avariya laid her head back on the grass. She could see the stars so much better now that the power was out most places. The radio droned on. It was nice to hear so many voices—each of them telling a story. She hadn't realized how lonely she was. And now she had a secret between her and the stars. All the unwanted ones were here—they were still here—still living like nothing had happened. Maybe it was hard, but it was good. Despite everything, there was still good in the world.

She went to London that autumn. She'd heard adds on the radio—there was a blacksmith there who wanted some particular kinds of scrap metal—bits of electronics too. Avariya had found them and she was ready to collect the reward. And to have a conversation. She hadn't been around people in over a year. 

The outer city was still—buses stood idle and there were no pedestrians to speak of. Even the birds seemed to have disappeared. It was beautiful in an eerie sort of way. Then she rounded a corner and saw it—just down the street in front of her was a statue of a dragon, marking the entrance to London proper. Behind that was life. There were people walking around between booths and street-side shops. Lanterns were strung up on wires that zig-zagged between the alley walls, and a smell of spice hung in the crispness of the air. She walked down the street in a daze. She hadn't known a city could feel so warm. It was like a fairy world come true. Just then she glanced up and saw another of the dragon statues guarding the border of the city, perched on the ledge of a building.

It moved.

Avariya looked away, blinked a few times, and looked back at the dragon statue. It was staring at her. She felt her heart thump harder and harder as it jumped down into the street before her. Now that it was in the light, she could see that it wasn't grey or silver or gold like a statue should be, but bright orangish red. Avariya stood as if she had been the statue as the creature hopped onto a nearby crate of vegetables, took a big bite of the nearest one, and immediately spit it out. This might have been comical—except the spit was on fire, and the fire caught onto the crates.

Somebody, probably the vegetable vendor, bumped Avariya's shoulder as he ran past with a water bottle and immediately poured it onto the crates. This didn't help particularly, and it got the creature all wet. Enraged, it reached up and bit the vegetable vendor on the hand. 

A gun went off behind her. Startled out of her trance, Avariya spun around. The first creature had been the size of a small dog—the one standing in the road behind her was at least as tall as a horse—it should have been bright red, but parts of it were all covered in a strange green liquid which made it look sort of brown. A militia member stood a few yards off with his rifle trained on the larger creature. It growled—a deep, unearthly noise—and spat flame at the gunman. It missed the man and hit the building behind him, which also caught on fire.

Avariya turned and ran. She probably should have a long time ago. Nobody was milling about on the street anymore, and there were strange shadows dancing on the ground, as if a thousand different kinds of birds were swooping around above the city. Avariya didn't look up to see what was casting them.

Suddenly her foot caught on something and she hit the ground hard. A hand grabbed her shoulder and flipped her onto her back. Standing over her was yet another creature, this one a deep purpley black, with eyes that shone white like a spotlight. Without thinking, Avariya drew her sword and held it out at the creature with as much menace as she could muster. Shockingly, it stepped back. Keeping the sword pointed at the creature, Avariya slowly got to her feet. The creature just stood there, blinking its unnaturally bright eyes. She stepped backwards slowly until she was at a somewhat safe distance, then she turned and ran again. 

She ran down the first underground entrance she saw. None of the trains were running, so she jumped down onto the track and kept running. The sky couldn't reach her here, and she was too terrified to realize that it was creepy down here, alone in the dark. 

When she couldn't run anymore, she walked to the next station and went back up to the surface. She was somewhere in London's suburbs. It was night, but she could still see around her. There was a sort of glow to everything. It was strange. She didn't think the moon was full just now, but she looked around for it anyway. 

Then she saw the sky behind her. Back towards the inner city, beyond the inky black silhouettes of the surrounding buildings, the sky was bright with color. Orange and grey and yellow and white spread out from the ground like a painted sunset. She didn't know it yet, but the image would stick with her forever—the fifth vivid memory of her time alone. London was burning.

[part 3]

[sneegsnitties]

Life’s a Trigger When You Pull It

HUGE TAZ AMNESTY SPOILERS BELOW DONT READ IF YOU HAVENT LISTENED TO EPISODE 28

[AO3 LINK]

Pigeon pulled the trigger on her gun as soon as she saw that creature come out of the sarcophagus made of light.

But… Ned Chicane jumped in the way.

The bullet hit him in the back and he fell on top of the creature.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she watches them both crumple and the creature almost sinks its teeth into his neck.

She watches as a man rushes in drags it away back into the forest and as everyone else crowds around the con man as he looks up at her. She's utterly terrified. Her gun is still smoking as she falls to her knees and lets out a sob.

“Someone go get help!” the woman yells and gestures at the sheriff who nods and runs off she then turns her attention back to Ned, “Ned are you okay? Respond if you can hear me.” there's a brief silence before she says his name again. “Ned fuckin chicane you better not fucking die on me,” she says, anger in her voice.

She watches as he turns his head up towards the sky and smiles faintly before he takes his final breath. The wind ruffles his hair slightly and everyone in the clearing is silent.

Ned Chicane is dead and it's her fault.

[scientifically-strange]

ok how bout this: Danny phases into the Helicarrier when S.H.E.I.L.D finally decides to check on Amity. Fury goes "how did you find us kid? we have the best cloaking system in the-" "ok but that doesn't mean much when your turbines are so LOUD ANYONE WOULD HEAR YOU COMING THREE MILES OFF". then he raids the cafeteria while Fury sputters and Barton dies laughing.

Nick Fury had his work cut out for him. He and the rest of his crew were currently flying over Amity park, a small town in Illinois where a so-called ghost superhero hung around and dealt with the infestation of spirits. he had been getting reports of these ghosts for years, but he had passed it off as a tourist trap. But last week the entire town had disappeared, buildings and all, so he thought he’d take a look.

He was expecting a few things from this trip. The appearance of the ghost hero, destruction of some section of the town. Hell, maybe even a ghost. But so far nothing like that was happening. There was no ghost or ghost hero, no destruction of property. Hell, not even a cry for help. But this did not deter Fury. He knew how to be a patient man and bide his time until the right moment.  

What he was not expecting was some scrawny, white haired kid appearing out of thin air.

His men reacted at once, pulling out their guns and aiming at the floating figure, who looked more bored than anything as he looked down at his small army. His blazing green eyes found Nick’s almost instantly, and Nick could feel the temperature in the room drop as the kid got closer to him.

“Who are you?” He asked. His voice echoed slightly, and with him floating this close Nick could see the green freckles that dotted the boys face.

“We have some of the highest quality technology on the planet, so I suggest you tell us how you knew we were here,” Nick replied calmly.

“Dude,” the kid said, scoffing, “for as high tech as this junk is it is not quiet at all. I heard you from literally miles away, and you expect me not to check it out? Who are you guys?”

“Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. And you are?”

“Name’s Phantom. And if you’re here about the ghosts you can just turn around and leave, I have it under control.”

“In my experience,” Nick started walking around Phantom in slow circles, and Phantom turned to keep his eyes on Fury. “I have seen mass murderers, evil government organizations, Nazis, aliens, and Hulk. Ghost, on the other hand, have never had the pleasure of dealing with. So why is it that in fifty years of being in the job, I’m just now meeting one.”

“Dude, they’re ghosts. Ghosts can turn invisible, or they’re too weak to make themselves visible. Or people just refuse to believe. But if you’ve seen aliens I hope your mind is open enough to realize you’re having a conversation with one right now.”

“Oh, I’m open minded. Now, what did you mean by you have the ghost situation taken care of?”

“Well, ghosts have been haunting Amity for years. I beat the tyrannical king that rose from his everlasting sleep in his sarcophagus and now I’m trying to work out a peace treaty between ghosts and humans.”

“It sounds like there’s quite a lot of politics in this ghost stuff.”

“That’s because there is.It’s a long and boring process of getting everybody to agree, and the Observants hate agreeing with me, even when they think I’m right. The whole treaty keeps getting pushed back because they’re to chicken to sign the damn thing.”

“Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

“I would have even less if you went back to New York. In terms of superpowered disasters I’d guess that they have the worst track record.”

And with that, he dove through the floor and back to his town.

The next day Danny told Tucker and Sam everything, and while they had a minor freak-out moment because of the possible consequences of dissing a high government official like Fury, they wholeheartedly agreed that it was not only the right thing to do, but completely badass as well. This made Danny very happy.

Over the course of the next few weeks he noticed that there were almost no ghosts around anymore. It had gotten tot he point where he skipped a couple nights of patrol so he could study. A few of them, like the Box Ghost, made there way through the portal, but they always went back willingly. Except for the Box Ghost, who, after being thrown back in for the millionth time, mentioned that no matter what Fury said, he was his own ghost who didn’t need to take any orders from anyone.

Danny didn’t sleep a wink that night. Instead, he told Sam and Tucker that Fury was behind the lack of ghosts. After a long, heated discussion they agreed that tomorrow, since it was in the middle of spring break, Danny would go to New York and find Fury, while Sam and Tucker looked after Amity.

It took him two days to fly there, and another one to find them, because after almost a month they had finally gotten a quieter ship. Danny would be surprised if he hadn’t pointed it out to them beforehand.

Just like last time, he was greeted with a multitude of weapons being pointed at him, but also like last time, Fury showed no shock. He was calm as he turned to stare up at Danny.

“Hello, Mr. Fenton. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Danny would have been shocked about Fury knowing his real name if it weren’t for the fact that they were a super secret spy-themed branch of the government. He thinks he would be disappointed if Fury hadn’t looked into him and done his homework.

“What deal did you make with the ghosts?” He asked.

“I politely asked them to back off so you could study. I know your grades are starting to slip again.”

“Wow, I didn’t peg you for a stalker, Fury.”

“I’m just keeping tabs on the people I want to help. And boy, do you need it. Listen, I want you to go out there and be a kid. Stress over exams, have some little crushes, go to a party, I don’t care. But you should leave the weight of the world on our shoulders, not yours.”

“What’s the catch?” Danny asked. He appreciated the sentiment, but he knew Fury was going to use this as an opportunity for a favor later on.

“If something...Catastrophic happens...Something that could possibly end the world...I want you to fight by our side. We’ll need every hand on deck, and yours seem pretty capable. So, we have a deal?”

Danny really didn’t have a lot of difficulty making his decision. With everything that was happening, having the ghosts back off would be a blessing. And if something so catastrophic it was world-ending happened, he would probably be in the fight anyway.

“I’ll be on the front lines, waiting for you to get your ass there too, Fury.”

And with that, he gave a two-fingered salute and dove through the floor again.

Fury smiled, and looked out at the setting sun over the water, glad that he was able to call someone as powerful as Phantom his ally.