#and then matt gave them the shard and then.... well. you know.

[vox-fantasma]

listen i got no beef with ashton's poor decision making. but. please. let me. see moon. matthew its been months of the solstice PLEASE let me see moon. i feel like a toddler going are we there yet every episode and every episode we are not. moon showdown when!!!! moon facts when!!!!!!!!! moon moon!!!!!!!!!!

[mdhwrites]

When it comes to Amphibia's finale, the Guardian tends to be rather divisive, with takes ranging from 'they're cool' to 'this is the true villain of the story.'

I chalk the division down to the fact that a lot of questions are raised when the Guardian is introduced, and most of them aren't answered. The most glaring is the question as to why the Guardian would call itself a 'Guardian,' yet not interfere when Andrias' ancestors used the stones for evil.

Now, the Guardian does say it's only a watcher and observer, but that...is blatantly not true, given the Guardian created the stones, revived Anne (sort of), and gave her shards home. That's three times the Guardian intervened, so it's arguably not a watcher, but a passive influencer who will only step in if it benefits their search for a successor.

And if they really could put a stop to the Core...it takes a special kind of egomania and lack of self-awareness to create items of ultimate power, refuse to stop them from being used for evil, then say 'Those mortals, huh? Not very responsible with their power.' Like, and you're much better? But again, that's only fair if the Guardian could intervene, and the show doesn't make it clear whether the Guardian has limits to their power (the fact that they created a copy of Anne rather than simply revive her from death implies the latter is something they can't do).

So why do you think the Guardian couldn't/wouldn't stop the stones from being misused during their centuries-spanning search for an heir? Because I'm not getting an answer from Matt Braly anytime soon.

*bops you on the head for that last sentence* You shouldn't be hoping for the creator to tell you how to feel. Form your own opinions.

Anyways, besides that, something these recent Amphibia asks make me hum is whether or not Amphibia is almost too good in our current media landscape. I know that sounds like an asshole response but you have to understand that very few works feel like they're made with this much intent, let alone this much intent while appearing to be a normal, approachable piece of genre fiction. As such, a lot of elements get used almost so well as to either throw people or make them want more. Sasha is so well written after all that people want quite literally any excuse for more of her. Marcy is made so relatable in her crime that no one wants to seem to admit that it was still the wrong thing to do.

And the Guardian is a perfectly bored god when we're so used to bad ones.

That really is it. I praise The Book of Life for having good God depictions as well because of the length of their machinations. How little mortals will matter to them. How quaint we are. Those ones still see us as entertaining though and making their job fulfilling, even if we at times become chess pieces on the grand board we play.

The Guardian is what you get when a god no longer sees us as entertaining. It was bored. So in its boredom, something that should be INCREDIBLY difficult with how many universes it theoretically protects, you know, INFINITE, it got an idea. A shake up only it could introduce while also finally giving it an out by being a test as well.

It says as much. "I was curious what mortals would do with infinite power and only you got it right." He sounds frustrated. Annoyed. Tired. He has the voice of a child not because of his age but because age has worn him down into nothing more than a child looking for an excuse to do something other than his chores.

And with understanding that mindset... Why would it have intervened? To interrupt the game means admitting it doesn't work and so having to come up with something new. It also means going back to being bored. Going back to having no successor and having no way to find one. And on the theoretically infinite cosmic scale... What does a few worlds being damaged mean to him? Because he looks over entire UNIVERSES. There is Space in Amphibia. They have a moon. That also means they theoretically have an entire galaxy, star system, etc. and that is ONE. UNIVERSE.

It is a scale we cannot comprehend... And that bored the Guardian. That made it NEED to retire. Because don't get me wrong: The Guardian fucked up. It made a half baked experiment and even his reward for it failed to manifest. Someone who would use the stones correctly would inherently not desire ultimate power. It's questionable if Anne will want it even when she dies.

However, calling The Guardian the real villain of the story is like calling the weapon that killed someone the real murderer, even if the person who did the crime was willing to kill with their bare hands. The Guardian wanted to see what people did with ultimate power. Some will say "Absolute power corrupts absolutely" but I like to believe more that "Absolutely power REVEALS absolutely." After all, the Guardian made a mistake but for a test of morality and responsibility for a scale as large as his job... He actually devised a really good test.

If you cannot handle a shred of his power correctly... What do you do with ALL OF IT? How quickly will YOU get bored? How much bigger will your fuck up for personal satisfaction be than a couple dozen worlds? But all he did, all he ever did, was present the option.

Like ALWAYS with Amphibia... It is the character's choice. The Core decided to hurt others. Andrias decided to follow the Core's dream to chase a time lost to him the second Lief took the box. Aldritch only got that utopian world that Andrias misses by abuse of others, using the box as the tool for that abuse and then easily stratifying his subjects because he hadn't seen people as people for a long while now.

And of course, Anne CHOSE to give her life to be the guardian of Amphibia before ever even considering the sorts of acts that any of the villains do. Hence why she earns being given a chance to be the guardian. But also, everything else in this blog is why someone who could finally shake things up like Anne and do what the Guardian was starting to consider impossible is given another blink in its lifetime to hone themselves just a little more.

Because none of these events actually mattered on the scale that a GOD like this views things. They don't function like regular characters but we're a lot better trained to treat characters as, well, based on people. Based on motivations and scale that we can understand. On morality that sees even a single life as wrong, not requiring BILLIONS for you to even register.

It's actually what makes the Guardian feel more like a critique of a Christian God than the Titan literally ever could. He is an absentee figure who set everything in motion. Who claims moral superiority while letting the world burn. People question their faith in the face of tragedy for a reason because if God is good, how can he allow such abhorrently wrong things to happen? And hence why the response of "God works in mysterious ways," is used to justify it. To make it feel like rather than a fuck up on his part, a miscalculation he doesn't bother to fix, that it is all part of his machinations.

The Guardian instead goes "WHOOPS! Not doing that again! Woo boy, if I had a boss, I'd definitely be getting a stern talking to during this MILLENIA'S performance review." He is almost disturbingly honest in his talk with Anne like that. To admit that despite being all powerful, that doesn't mean he's going to always make the right choice. Which, you know, if kind of on brand for Amphibia. Anne didn't always make the right choice. Andrias almost never made the right choice. Marcy made all the right choices except for her first one. Sasha thought she was making the right choices. Hop Pop when he ends up accidentally mind controlling people thinks he's making a harmless choice that won't have consequences.

Because like everyone in Amphibia, the Guardian is also terrifyingly human. But do you know what proves why HE'S the Guardian and almost no one else in the story?

He never took those choices away from everyone. They were allowed to make their mistakes. He did not admonish, he did not punish. He did judge but in that judgement, allowed to be themselves and reveal who they were. He only took the power away when someone finally proved the base hypothesis possible. That someone might EVER choose the morally right thing with the stones and put everyone else, good, bad, neutral, etc. before them and use them to stop annihilation, not for greed and self interest.

To call him the true villain of Amphibia feels like missing the point because of that. Because the Guardian is someone who screwed up but is still morally better than almost any of the villains. If the villains didn't like their job after all, they'd FORCE someone else to do it. They wouldn't have listened to Anne when she said no. They wouldn't decide to try in another couple decades for a second interview and hope that goes well. They would have simply made the choice for her because they no longer wanted this and wouldn't care about her free will. Anne isn't under contract to take it when she dies after all. She'll just wake up with the Guardian then... That's probably it. The Guardian is left bored and having to figure out a new way to find a successor, but with a few more lessons on how to do it right this time.

There is a reason I call the ending of Amphibia the PERFECT ending for this story. Not that it is perfect, the last episode's pacing is a bit wonky, but that an altered version of it would still include every element and plot beat that this finale did. And that includes the Guardian. I will leave the choice up to you for if you agree or not.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[platypusmonstah]

C3E77

I don't ever participate in discourse or discuss anything plot-wise to any shows, movies, or any other entertainment media, because, well I just don't wanna. I try to keep my opinions to myself and just enjoy (or hate) things on my own.

Before I go into this I will admit, I am not a fan of Ashton, don't hate the characters, I am just indifferent to them. I don't care about the pity party we have been watching for the past 2 years, them being left behind, the savior complex, and whatnot. I admit, that I am not so versed in the punk scene and what it's about (I am pretty sure it's not about feeling sorry for oneself, but I could be wrong) so perhaps this is where my indifference comes from? I don't know, they are not my cup of tea that I would enjoy. I do admit that the character has changed since we first saw them, for the better.

That being said, Taliesin plays them VERY well. So much so that sometimes it is hard to see where one starts and one ends. You can't tell if a fuck up is from Ashton doing Ashton or Tal misunderstanding what's going on. I don't know.

Personally, I am a bit miffed (just a tiny bit, it actually kinda passed because, well, this show is not created for me, the whole thing is Matt building this for them so who the fuck am I to judge what they do, I'm just here for the wild ride), because yes, the 3rd campaign is 2 years in, but in-game its only been 80 days. They had that shard for 1 day. Just 1 day. They were about to go on a scouting mission on the fricking moon. This mission is not gonna be a big bad boss fight. So using the shard was not the number 1 priority. And even if in the end Fearne refused it, there are other party members, or even other characters that could have absorbed it. I digress.

I do think Matt went too easy on Ashton and Tal. Yes, he presented the red button, but that button was glowing and had multiple warnings pointed toward it. Whether he went easy because he was not prepared for this, or he went easy on it because he didn't want to fuck up the party and campaign, we will probably never know. It would have halted the campaign, had Ashton died. People are praising Taleisin for doing this, and how it was so brave, but I wonder if they would have thought the same if it backfired and Ashton died. Who knows.

The second half C3E77 was stressful af. There were a lot of instances in all 3 campaigns that were stressful and made me almost pull a Marisha and perch. Characters doing stuff that made you wanna throw something at them. And in the end was worth it. It helped the party, it pushed the story forward. This will also. What soured it this time for me, was the gloating at the end. Taliesin gloated, not Ashton. Ashton would have been dead dead had it not been for Fearne, FCG, and that ring. Tal gloating was jarring, and for that, I hope they gave him shit after the episode.

But ultimately I am happy it worked out in the end. Because if it didn't, I'd feel horrible for Ashley. She was the only one who knew what was gonna happen. She already had to choose once who lived and who died, and she felt like shit for weeks afterward. I don't even wanna entertain the idea of how she would have felt if Ashton died.

[feuqueerfire]

Enigma Live Blogging

I've literally only heard good things and hopes for a season 2, so I'm hoping to love it, esp since I've been excited since the mock trailer.

Ep 1 (Aug 7)

1-1

Prim so pretty

stabbing a teacher with a pencil

Win's tattoos are nice, Sung Hanbin should get something similar, it'd go well with his celestial chest tattoos

Oh the way he acts with Fa vs so nervous with the teacher

ah, magic healing?

pls he really is going hard on bumbling fool teacher Ajin

that twisty crack thing + cracked glass

1-2

oh the girl drowned herself? did she succeed?

girl wtf is this "misbehaving children must be disciplined" voice D:

and is Ajin staying late to investigate what goes on?

girl not the security person

1-3

oh, Ajin undid things and healed her and security and brought her back to her room? or something? because that can't have been a dream

waitttt, Ajin and Fa don't end up in a relationship, right? I feel like I would've been aware of it. I kinda did want them to get together from the concept trailer though since it seemed dark and twisted anyway + that one Win and Prim clip with the oranges and them beside a pool gave me intense brain worms, so I am Very Open to them together in this show or a different one

but anyway, they're cute talking after the water spill thing even though I'm assuming Ajin orchestrated just for this purpose of showing how different he is than his powerful magician self

oh Ajin, how did you know about the dream?

1-4

oh she confronted Ajin by herself, that's kinda scary

damn, what is that thing she found and has been carrying?

omg... what's happening. does the evil thing that's hurt Wan and Matt have its grips on Fa and he's trying to expel it?

the villain eats glass

Who is the person who records Fa in the past roof clips? Who is the villain - I know Bright appears at the end

I'm reading the r/gmmtv ep 1 discussion and lol I didn't notice a "blurry figure" behind Fa even though apparently she appeared twice rip. Also, Piploy is supposed to be in this as well

Ep 2 (Aug 7)

2-1

Fa's an adult? isn't she a high schooler? Did they carefully drop that piece of info so that they can get together <- my hopes

pls okay and he's not even her teacher and they're literally doing forced cohabitation with "this side of the room is mine, don't cross it" stuff like? okay, love interests

plsss "my plans never fail, they're perfect" -> getting a photo taken by the girls at school

damn, how'd Ajin get the uncle thing to work?

Namsine played by Piploy is significant somehow

2-2

ewww throwing up blood after taking out a glass shard from her mouth?

bro, was that a dream for real?

girl, not the Music Room by yourself

oh, Prikhing was the one behind the window when Fa, Namsine, and Ajin were all in the music room

ah, more of Prikhing

2-3

plsssss Yiwha thinking Ajin is a perverted spirit

Yiwha is cute and endearing but also... is she innocent? completely off the list of suspects? hmmm like maybe she's just doing this so cast the doubt off of herself? and get info from Fa herself?

anyway, Yiwha and Fa are cute though, girls of the world! I'd ship them harder if I wasn't already invested in Fa and Ajin

omg everybody already infected and vomiting blood and stuff? and who is the person with the red cloak?

oh, this is from the concept trailer when she went into a different room and entered some other dimension or something through the door

oh, blinded by a spell in the same place, I see

who is the red-cloaked girl? is that Namsine?

I knew people mentioned Piploy quite a bit and the thing with having a GMMTV roster of actresses is that you immediately know they'll be significant enough somehow or other, so Namsine being the red-cloak girl makes sense. though I do see mentions of her being a puppet in the gmmtv subreddit ep 2 discussion

Ep 3 (Aug 8)

3-1

Ah, Namsine puppet as they mentioned

3-2

Not the wound tending

ahh and he still let her patch him up despite him healing soo quickly

they're so cuteeeee what the heck, they've gotta be hinting at romance right?

Him sharing magic with her in a way he's never shared with anybody

ah, Fa and Namsine fun, intense friendship, girls who only understand each other

omg the way the mother found the videos of them spending time with each other and being so attached, ah it's so gay girls <3 as if the videos would have them kissing or something

scary ass mother, reminds me of button eyed Coraline other parents kinda

3-3

oh I hate Namsine's mother so bad

White Arts, Black Arts, Enigma

he won't let anyone else die... is he seeking revenge for somebody who already died?

3-4

i lost the stuff here rip

Ep 4 (Aug 8)

4-1

oh self-mutilation

Fa and Namsine soooo lesbian intense girl relationship

anyway i'm scared that Namsine is gonna stab Fa still with the blade

bro a shattering sky glass

hey what?

4-2

The bees around Ajin are reminding me of the moths in Midnight Museum of Bright's episodes

so Ajin's being haunted/posessed and is gonna now have a spell over him to see something else too?

4-3

woahh Fa performing an exorcism in the pool, she's so cool - you've learnt well and have a good brain

omg lesbianssss Namsine stopping Fa from drowning

Hm, that's it? What even happened with the glass sky shattering and possessing Ajin and stuff?

4-4

Girl, we're gonna get something new starting up in the last part of ep 4 cuz things weren't properly fully fleshed and closed out by part 3 anyway and they'll introduce something for me to hope for season 2 ah D:

Fa-Ajin get together plsssssss they're so ~~~<33~~~

I don't like how he holds her mouth like that though, it was okay the first time when he was angry but not when he's stopping her from talking about spending all the time with him

oh kiss okay, even though we can't even see it

oh not a kiss, rip :(

ah it hits midnight

and he makes her forget everything? D: so sad

oh okay, he didn't make her forget, that's good. he just made her sleep as usual and took her home and disappeared

We get Ajin and Namtaan kisses but no Ajin and Fa fr D:

bro, Priking?

What is the significance of Ajin's ring?

agh, so sad that the ending/wrap-up was just okay but the tease for next season is so intriguing. The setup for this season was good too, well-paced since it's such a short show.

Overall:

I wish the wrap-up/ending was done better/explained a bit more,, like what was that Ajin possession thing? No Ajin past? Why did we redeem mother so easily?

I wish the horror aspect continued on cuz I think it was strongest in the first episode but not much after that.

It's such a short series with a large focus on magic and evil but they still had me hetshipping and lesbian shipping (Fa/Namsine were literally soooo) and that's a good mark that it made me care about the relationships/characters.

Good after credits scene to pique interest for a larger story, hope we get it for gmmtv 2024 and that it remains about 4-6 episodes with the same quality and possibly better writing when tying things up

good acting from everybody, especially the girls.

It was good but I'm not super attached to anything or anybody but if there's a second season, I'd watch it.

Rating: 6.5/10

Trailers:

Original Mock: Watched it in the early morning during GMMTV 2023 and it was one of the only non-queer GMMTV series that was interesting. Was looking forward to it.

Official Trailer: Still cool, though I don't like the very fast cuts they had.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Post-ep 107

Here’s a fact to make us all nostalgic: In-game, the Mighty Nein have known each other for slightly longer than 2020 has been going on so far.  Which is either a thousand years or no time at all, and which absolutely puts into perspective how lengthy that relationship probably feels to the crew of them.

I point this out because I’m also wondering if the crew were perhaps just in a really nostalgic mood tonight, because....wow, we haven’t heard Molly come up so much in so long, and a lot of it was even before we got to discussing the city. The Moonweaver, and what it’s like to come back from the dead.  “Do you remember Molly?”  Yeah.  Yeah they do.

(Though not half as well as they need to right now, trying to figure out the mystery of the nine-eyed city that’s all tied up into the backstory of a friend they only knew for a month and a half, nine months ago.  They have the shards and pieces, but where are they going to go next?)

....and of course it’s been nine months, because why wouldn’t it be?  Nine eyes on the city, nine eyes on the Nonagon’s skin.  Three cloven eye-shaped crystal seals each for three abandoned demigod servants of the Betrayer Gods, for nine keys scattered somewhere around the world.

Eight members of the Mighty Nein, because chaos reigns and they thrive on being confusing.  (The ninth slot is Frumpkin--no, no, it’ll be Essek someday.  The ninth slot is the party’s equivalent of a guest room, filled by an ever-rotating cast of guest characters and NPCs, because this is a party that never shuts anyone out.  It’s the empty seat left for Elijah, never to be filled, although damned if any of them know who they’re theoretically saving it for.  It’s meaningless.  It’s a coincidence.  It’s Zemnian for absolutely nothing, because that’s how much it actually means.)

.

I just love this game a lot, is the thing, and I love the stages of it that we got to see tonight so much.  The pieces are starting to come together, in ways that were never supposed to intersect but now do, and all of the sudden we start to see the shape of what our endgame might look like.  (It’s a hungry, hunting city.  The endgame is the backstory of the first person they lost, the first person whose secrets they learned, the one person who won’t be there with them to see it.  Of course it is.)

My question right now is, of course--so what does this thing, if anything, have to do with the Cerberus Assembly and the Chained Oblivion?  Is this lurking vast sentient horror the Vecna to their Chroma Conclave, dangled in mentions along the way and then set aside for more pressing crises?  Is it the new focus of our next forty-episode arc?  How do the pieces fit?  I’m so excited to find out.

.

Meanwhile, I think that I am really, really glad that Matt decided to bring TravelerCon to this island.  I wonder, when he made the decision, if he really knew what he was setting in motion--apparently he had plans for Vo all the way back in Campaign 1, and this was a great meta-excuse to finally get his players there to solve the Vilya mystery after all.   Maybe he was planning around the Traveler’s plans to offload followers onto an amnesia god.

I think, though, that we have seen so many of Jester’s long-running doubts crystallize here on this island specifically because she has this other example of cults and a false god who takes but does not give right here in front of her.  She’s gone back and forth in so many directions about the Traveler and his other followers and her insecurities and his desires, but this village has been such an example of just what she so badly does not want.  She doesn’t want the Traveler’s followers to be trapped.  She doesn’t want them to believe in a lie that gives them nothing, even if believing in that lie makes them happy.  She wasn’t quite sure what she DID want for a very long time, but the island gave her guidance even if it wasn’t what Artagan was expecting.  And man am I glad it all came down how it did.

[torikengel]

Thomas Hewitt x Reader (Part 1)

a/n: thank you so much for your support <3 you make me motivated to continue, parts 2/3 and 4 are already on my profile <3

You were traveling with a group of friends across Texas. You were all from a big city, so they decided to go on a road trip. There were five of you in total, two girls, two guys, and you. At first, you refused to go and wondered why they even bothered taking you because they were two couples and you were just the fifth wheel. Well, you weren’t very familiar with one of the couples, but you knew the other one. At least you knew the girl, cause she was the one to invite you to this trip. It was known that you were well off and they desperately needed more money for gas and food on this trip. You weren’t dumb and it was very clear soon enough that the sum of money you were required to bring was much higher than the one of your so-called friends. So why you decided to go? You thought some adventure in your life wouldn’t hurt and you were yearning for some fresh air outside of the city. And it wouldn’t be bad to make some friends along the way, you thought. But soon you realized that wasn’t going to happen. The boys were eyeing you up and down and the girls weren’t happy about you. You would like to think that you were fairly pretty with an attractive face and a nice body. And since Texas is hot you were simply wearing a tank top and shorts. You were sitting in the back seat, buckled up, and looking out of the window as your companions didn’t seem keen on talking with you. “Hey, Emma, can we stop for a while, I need to go… you know,” said Chloe who was sitting next to you in the back seat with her boyfriend Matt to the driver, Emma. “Sure,” Emma responded slightly annoyed. You stopped in a remote town in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t seem that many people were still living there. Emma drove to the nearest shop and parked. The place was swarming with bikers and as soon as Chloe stepped out of the vehicle they whistled at her. “Wait babe, I am coming too,” Matt said as he spotted their sly smirks and how they hungrily looked at his girlfriend. “Y/n? Are you coming too?” Emma scoffed, “I am definitely not stopping again just because of you.” And she vanished in the shop as her boyfriend Chris followed right after her.

Someone should stay in the car and guard our stuff, you thought for yourself. But you really needed to drink something, so in the end, you grabbed your purse and walked in the store as the bikers kept catcalling you on your way. On your way there you saw Chloe and Matt whispering to each other, well if it could be considered whispering, cause you heard them. “Look at that old hag! Bet she never stepped out of this hell hole. Jeez, this town smells bad.” Chloe laughed and Matt added “Yeah, disgusting, now imagine living here babe, I bet they are all diseased.” You turned to the elderly woman behind the counter, you intuitively knew she could hear everything. You grabbed a soda and went to the counter, “I am very sorry.” You said with your head down as you didn’t dare to look her in the eyes. “Don’t worry ‘bout that darlin’, my family is used to this.” When you finally dared to look at her, you could see that her eyes were traveling up and down, scanning your body. Oh well, your clothes weren’t the most appropriate for this traditional part of Texas. “My name is y/n…” you said giving her the money for your soda. “Please keep the change.” You added as you wanted to vanish into thin air from embarrassment. The change you were talking about was like triple the price of soda. “Oh no, m’dear, I can’t accept that.” She finally smiled at your generosity and politeness. “Please, I insist… Mrs.?” You stuttered. “Luda Mae,” she helped you out. “Mrs. Luda Mae”, you repeated, smiling back at her. “Come already, we don’t have the whole day to wait… or we will leave you here!” Chloe shouted from the car and Emma honked. You jumped up and rushed to them while waving at Luda Mae, cause who knows, they might actually leave you there.

Emma was driving and chatting with her friends, not paying attention to you, even though it was she who invited you on this trip. And not only she wasn’t paying attention to you, but to the road as well, because she didn’t notice the spike strips across the road. Everyone yelped and held their breath when the van slid across the road and fell to the pit on its side… on your side. In the brief moment of despair, you regretted not being buckled up for the first few minutes of the trip. Your cheek smashed on the window that broke into shards, cutting up your skin. The worst part was that both Chloe and Matt fell on top of you as well. You squirmed under their weight but to no avail. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Emma screamed as she lost control of the vehicle and saw her boyfriend falling head forward on a sharp shard of glass, piercing his flesh. After a few minutes of shock, Emma got out of the car, seemingly okay, and helped Chloe and Matt. After that, they all hurried to help Chris. Nobody cared about you. You could feel the blood gushing out of your wounds on your arm and cheek. In the end, you managed to scramble the last bits of your strength and got out of the car without any help… Emma was in utter shock as she felt that her boyfriend didn’t show any signs of life. You didn’t know how to react, because you didn’t feel any pity. They didn’t help you and wouldn’t mind letting you die there on that backseat. You just shook your head and turned away, confused at what’s about to happen. “What’s wrong with you y/n! You look completely unphase by all this, explain yourself!” Emma screamed at you suddenly, letting out all of her anger on you. Before she could insult you any further you heard police sirens. “Thank god,” she calmed down a bit. Chloe was just shaking in Matt’s arms. The hope you all felt as the police car made its way towards you was slowly exchanged with fear. An older man with a sheriff’s uniform stepped out of the car with a shotgun. “So what do we have here… a bunch of lowly cowards it seems.” He spat on the ground and aimed the gun at you. “Get into the car, now!” he pointed at the police car, “The big guy in the back with two girls and this sexy babe in the passenger seat.” He aimed the shotgun at your head. “Wait, mister Hoyt, there’s my boyfriend still in the van!” Emma walked up to him trembling, apparently not grasping that this man isn’t here to help you. “My, my, do you think I care about your fucking boyfriend, bitch?” he turned down her request and took her by the wrist, “Maybe I will just take you next to me since you are so dumb, you need a lesson.” He tightened his grip on her wrist. “W-wait m-mister.” She stuttered, fear enveloping her. “T-take her instead… I swear we won’t tell anyone; you can do anything you want with her, even kill her, we will make something up, please just don’t hurt us.” She pointed her dirty finger at you and looked at Chloe and Matt, still in a tight embrace. “R-right guys? We won’t tell…” she desperately looked for a sign of approval from them. “Y-yes! We definitely won’t tell! I mean look, she’s way prettier for you sir!” Chloe added, throwing her pride behind her, Matt followed with a quick nod. “My, my what a friend you have,” Hoyt nearly died from laughter. He threw her aside on the hot ground. She slowly exhaled as she thought this was his way of saying yes. “I don’t like these types of bitches.” Without any hesitation, he shot Emma in the leg. She squealed and held her leg close to her, “You old bastard! We had a deal!” He only laughed a bit more before turning to the rest of you. “Now get in the car if you want to live. NOW!” he shouted and aimed the gun at Chloe and Matt who protectively stood in front of Chloe. “We have another hero here it seems.” Another shot followed, straight into Matt’s shoulder. He dropped to his knees in pain. “Who else?” he looked at you. After thinking for a few seconds, you dropped your eyes to the ground and went to the passenger’s seat of Hoyt’s police car. You decided to be smart about it. You didn’t dare to look back at him, all you heard were screams until everything was quiet again. Hoyt dragged your so-called friends’ bodies to the backseat. They were all breathing, just unconscious, their heads bloody. He probably hit them to make them easier to transport. He dragged Chris’s dead body out of the van as well, putting him into the trunk. After that, he sat in the driver’s seat next to you. “Come on, look at me. I don’ bite.” He licked his lips as you turned to face him. “Good girlie.” He said as he pressed some cloth over your nose and lips. You struggled for air, but then finally gave up and passed out as well.

You open your eyes to an unbearable headache which made you wish to never wake up at all. Where am I… shot through your mind as you tried to recall what led to your current situation. Right, your so-called friends tried to use you as their ticket out of this, as a bribe, as if you were a piece of meat. Your eyes were swollen and weak, so it was awfully hard to keep them open. You tried your best to inspect your situation a bit more. You couldn’t move your limbs, that’s for sure. So, you looked around again, adjusting your eyes to the dark atmosphere. It must’ve been a basement of some kind as there were no windows. You could see other metal tables except for the one you were tied to. There were various shiny metal tools around you consisting of cleavers, knives, and other stuff. Then you glanced above you to the ceiling. What you saw made you gag in disgust. Meat hooks, and on them two bodies hanging… Matt and Chloe. Then it hit you… out of confusion and tiredness, you didn’t pay attention to it before, but the whole basement smelled like death, rotting flesh, vomit, blood… everything mixed. Matt was missing half of his body and under him was a pool of blood, he was already dead. Chloe was missing one leg and one arm, seemingly still breathing, but not for long you thought for yourself. Sure, you were scared, because the same thing was going to happen to you, but you felt slight happiness in the back of your mind, no pity to be found. They abandoned you, they emotionally abused you, they used you for money, they would let you be raped and killed in exchange for their pathetic lives. They didn’t care about you. And now, despite their best efforts, you were here, alive, with all of your limbs, breathing while they were all almost dead. You couldn’t help to wonder why you were the last one to be butchered. You smiled for yourself “That’s what you get… even though I am going to be next, I still outlived you for long enough to laugh last.” And also, you didn’t know them before this trip except for Emma who wasn’t there right now. After these thoughts dispersed in your mind, you realized you could hear voices from above you. When you woke up, you were a bit groggy and didn’t pay attention to all of your senses right away. You recognized the female voice; without a doubt, it was Emma squealing in pain and disgust. “Let me go, let me go you ugly old bastard!” she screamed so loud it was piercing your ears. Instead of pitying her, it was more annoying to you, because you wanted the last minutes of your life to be as peaceful as possible. “Shut up, stupid bitch, or I will make you!” a familiar voice shouted back. Hoyt. Yeah, it must’ve been that guy, Sheriff Hoyt. Even though you assumed he wasn’t the real sheriff. You figured out what was happening upstairs. From the moment you met this Hoyt guy, you knew he was a pervert and a violent one. Even though he spared you in a way when he didn’t shoot you, well, you complied so he had no reason to. Then you realized that you checked your surroundings to the best of your ability while you didn’t even look at the state you were in. Your wrists and ankles hurt real bad. The leather cuffs were rubbing tightly against your sensitive red skin. Your cheek hurt as well as your arm. You weren’t sure if the glass shards were still in your arm or if someone took them out. You tried to position yourself in a way you could see the cut. It was deep and your skin was all bruised. Your whole body felt squished and sore, because of how Matt and Chloe fell on you during the accident. You were so tired… the screams above you got quieter and quieter each second as you fell into sleep again.

Loud footsteps in the basement woke you up and when you managed to lift your eyelids a huge man was towering over your lying body. He was wearing a bloody apron, shirt, and tie… very neat you thought for yourself. He smelled bad and there was a human-like mask on his face. He had greasy black hair that reached to his shoulders and partially hid his face. What captured your attention were his piercing blue eyes. He was scanning you, but you did the same as you stared deep into his eyes. He expected you to try to jump up, squirm, or make disgusted faces. He was used to it. All his life people called him names and bullied him, from his childhood to his teen years, and while he worked in the factory as an adult. He was always a monster, animal, disgusting freak in their eyes. Women made gagging noises when they saw him and then laughed in his face. Men picked on him, tried to fight him to get him in trouble. He suffered through it all until he finally unleashed all the pain and anger. Since then he saw people as either family or food, there was nothing in-between. You could see it in his eyes, the awaiting of your scream. But it never came, even after you noticed the cleaver in his hand. You had a neutral expression on your face while watching him. The pain was undeniable in his eyes. He wanted you to scream as it made it easier, so much easier… if you just called him a freak, if you tried to spit in his face… too easy. Finally, your lips parted, air leaving your mouth as you exhaled. He hated it, everything you did, he hated it because you made it hard. You had a beautiful face, perfect skin, attractive body, silky h/c hair, and shiny e/c eyes. You looked like one of the girls that would make fun of him and kick him again when he was already down. All the memories kept flooding into his mind as he raised the cleaver and prepared to swing. Now he expected you to squirm, shout and plead for your life, to at least cry or call him something nasty. But you peacefully smiled at him. “This is my end isn’t it?” you accepted your fate from the moment you woke up for the first time in this basement. You closed your eyes and prepared for the pain that would inevitably come with the blow. The man was confused like never in his life. Your sweet smile towards him melted his resolve. Here he was standing, all bloody with a cleaver ready to end your life and your perfect form was just lying under him in a dignified position without regrets. His eyes were full of sorrow. Nobody smiled at him before, laughed yes, mocked him too, but he never got that smile, smile without any prejudice in your then open eyes. There was no pain, just a wet feeling on your hurt cheek. For the first time, you yelped at the sudden touch and shot your eyes open again. There he was, standing over you, wiping the dry blood off your face with a wet rug. He stepped back, startled by your reaction. You could see how hurt he was… you couldn’t believe yourself. In this situation, with a murderer in a room with you, your instinct was telling you to pity him more than the couple hanging from the meat hooks. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that; I just didn’t expect it… thank you.” You murmured under your breath. His eyes widened, first that innocent smile, now the honest tone in your voice as you apologized for being held captive. “My name is y/n. But I guess you don’t need to know that as you know…” your eyes pointed to the cleaver that was on the other table now. He didn’t say anything, but he shook his head. You didn’t know if that meant you would be spared or that he was content with knowing your name, you figured it was the latter though. After he calmed down, he stepped up again to clean your face and arm. You hissed a bit, but he knew it wasn’t at him, but at the pain. You didn’t know why he did all that when you are certainly going to be killed, if not by this man then by that Hoyt.

“What’s your name, if you don’t mind?” you broke the awkward silence. He shrugged, not replying. “You can’t speak?” you figure it wouldn’t hurt to ask and you wanted to know if he couldn’t or simply didn’t want to talk. You got a slight nod from him. “I see… But I can try and guess if you help me.” You came up with a solution. “I will say the alphabet and when I will get to the first letter of your name, you should touch the palm of my hand.” He seemed unsure but nodded again in the end. “A, B, C…” you continued until you got to T. He softly put a finger on your palm. “T…” you repeated, “That could be Tim, Tony, Thomas.” You wanted to continue, but he grabbed your finger when you said Thomas. “Thomas… Tommy.” You smiled at him. You didn’t know what got into you, but you were enjoying this sweet, tender moment. He was very gentle with you and didn’t kill you yet. Maybe it was because of how different your behavior was from everyone else.

He didn’t believe it. What was he doing, what were you doing, what were you doing to him? You were supposed to be another meal, just food, a piece of meat. But he couldn’t treat you like that when you were the first person outside of his family who treated him like a human being, without disgust and hate. Even Charlie and Monty sometimes treat him like a dog. He could sense that you were sincere. Some girls tried to seduce him before to save their lives and then stab him in the back. Once he fell for it, only for the first time though, he learned his lesson. But you didn’t try, you accepted that you were going to die here, and he couldn’t bring himself to end your life on his own.

“Damn what’s taking you so long down there, boy?” Hoyt opened the door to the basement and threw something on the stairs. “Don’ tell me you were able to finally man up?” Thomas seemed to be a bit lost, but you knew what he meant by that. “Anyhow, I am finished with it, it’s all yours now.” Hoyt pointed on the floor. You weren’t sure what he threw in the basement until now. It was Emma and she was still alive. Her mouth taped shut and hands tied behind her back. Hoyt descended into the basement and got rid of the tape on her lips. “You liked it bitch, didn’t ya?” he squeezed her cheeks and put a finger into her open mouth. She bit him as soon as she got the chance. A loud slap followed and he walked back up cussing her out. Hoyt was so focused on his finger, that he didn’t seem to care about why you were still alive. “Oh y/n! Help me, help me, please!” she trembled and smiled at you in disbelief. She obviously thought you were dead. Then she looked around to see her dead friends and screamed. Thomas grabbed her with his huge hands ready to hang her on the meat hook next to her friends. “You ugly fat bastard, let me go, stop it, you animal!” she kicked him wherever she could with both of her legs as they were tied together. You couldn’t hold back your laughter. However, your laughter stabbed Thomas in the back. So, you were the same after all. He thought about it and then realized it was for the better. But then you spoke “She looks like a fish out of the water, doesn’t she?” you giggled a bit more and then finally stopped. Thomas smiled under his mask before he realized what were the consequences. You indirectly stood up to him and it was funny and clever as well. “What… why would you laugh y/n? We are both going to die you dumb slut!” as the last word left her lips a shriek of pain echoed as Thomas stabbed the hook into her back. With the last strength, she spat in his face. “F-filthy animal, m-murderer, you and your damn fucking family can all burn in hell…” she mumbled. “I bet he would be a better friend than you.” Before she could come up with a comeback of any kind, he slit her skull with a cleaver. He grabbed a chainsaw and started dismembering her. You actively watched, fascinated by the situation. You weren’t a sadist, not at all, but it just all seemed like a weird nightmare to you. Maybe you passed out during the car crash and you are still dreaming. However, the smell of blood brought you back into reality. After Thomas was done, he turned back to you, freshly bloodied. He expected to see a disgusted face, tears, fear. He did it on purpose… to make you scream, to make you hate him like everyone else. “To be honest… she deserved it. Imagine, she tried to give me to Hoyt to save herself. She wouldn’t mind killing me.” You shrugged as you were very stiff from holding your head on the side. 

No, no, no, no, no… it was all wrong. Thomas’ heart raced as he looked at you in disbelief, your e/c eyes piercing his soul. You saw him kill your friend, well at the very least your companion and then you also witnessed al the gory stuff that came with it, but you looked unphased, maybe a bit satisfied with his work... you didn’t scream, didn’t curse, didn’t hate him. He grabbed the cleaver and held it above you, then swung and…

[eddswrold-fandicc]

TomEdd Shmut

It was a normal day in the Edd house. Birds were singing, the bees were buzzing, the sun was out. What a nice day.

Sike.

Tom and Tord had gotten into a fist fight. Matt had tried to break them up, but got roughly pushed out of the way and his mirror broken. Edd was out of the house, taking Ringo to a pet store for a halloween costume.

Tord had thrown Tom onto the coffee table, breaking it in half.

"NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID, ASSHOLE!" Tom got up, pointing to the broken table.

"It would've been fine if it wasn't for your fat ass, jehovah." Tord wiped the blood running from his nose.

Matt was crying in the corner, holding the shards of his broken mirror like it was his child, "You two better clean this up before Edd comes ho-home," he sniffled.

Tom and Tord looked at each other, panicked.

Suddenly they were friends now, quickly cleaning the house like they had just had a party and their parents were coming home.

God forbid Edd gets mad. He usually had a lot of patience, but piss him off and you're a dead man.

The two bloodied boys were about halfway through with cleaning when they heard keys jingling outside. They rushed in a panic. They haven't even gotten to the living room yet, and it was the worst out of all the rooms.

They hurried to the living room, picking up the broken table, but it was too late.

Edd had walked through the door, holding Ringo in a pumpkin outfit. He stopped mid tracks when he saw the table smashed in two. He gently set down his little pumpkin, letting her walk away before slamming the front door closed.

"What. The hell." Calm as can be. Oh no.

Tom looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. Tord started stuttering, trying to explain what had happened.

"They were fighting. Tord threw Tom on the table," Matt broke through, walking to the kitchen.

Tord glared at him.

"What? I'm not gonna lie to him." Matt shot his hands up in defense.

"Thank you Matt," Edd said calmly. He looked back at the two standing in the living room, "After you two clean this up, go to your rooms and I'll have a word with both of you."

The two nodded, slowly starting to clean up the pieces of wood scattered on the carpet.

Tom tried bending down to pick up a half of the table, but realized he couldn't. His back was in pain.

He quickly stood up, finding another way to pick up their mess. He chose to squat down, but it still hurt. Not as much as bending, but it still hurt.

His face pinched in pain every time he squat down. And Edd had noticed.

Once the two were done with their mess, Tord had dismissed Tom so he can vacuum.

Tom painfully walked up the stairs and into his room, quietly closing the door behind him.

He layed on his bed, on his stomach, waiting for Papa Edd to come punish him.

He heard Edd already talking to Tord downstairs. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he knew what was happening.

After a few minutes, everything got quiet. That's when Tom knew that he was next. He felt like a child, waiting in their room to be punished by their parent.

He heard Edd's heavy footsteps getting closer to his door. He quietly embraced himself for what might happen next.

Edd opened his door, closing it behind him.

"Tom."

Tom kept his head down, staying quiet and still. Maybe if Edd thought he was sleeping-

A harsh slap was delivered to Tom's ass. His head jumped up, looking back at Edd, who stood with his arms crossed and a glare.

"Ow! What the fu-"

"Sit up and face me." Edd's voice was deep and stern. It honestly made Tom blush.

His gay ass.

Tom sat on the edge of his bed, facing Edd. He looked down, avoiding eye contact with the man towering over him.

"Look at me, Tom."

Tom's blush became a deeper red when Edd said his name. He looked up at him, softly biting his lip.

Edd crouched down so they were face to face, "If you two break any of the furniture over something so stupid again, I'll have your ass on my wall. Do I make myself clear?"

Tom felt his pants getting tighter. Edd smelled so... sexy.

Tom nodded, moving his hands between his thighs so Edd wouldn't see his erection.

Edd retreated back to his normal, happy self, "Great! Take off your shirt and let me see your back."

Tom's black eyes widened, "What? No!"

Edd's voice got low again, "Did I fucking stutter? Take your shirt off, Tom."

Tom still hesitated.

"Now."

He jumped at Edd's voice being so stern, but boy did it turn him on even more. Now he wanted to argue to keep Edd in his room, then maybe he can jack off later to Edd's voice.

"I don't think so, Edd." Tom smirked.

Edd quietly glared at the smaller man below him.

"Fine then."

Edd quickly gripped the bottom of Tom's hoodie, pulling it over his head.

Tom shrieked from the sudden attack. He covered his arms from the chill in the room.

"Give that back!"

Edd shook his head, tossing the hoodie aside and going for Tom's shirt next.

Tom curled himself into a ball on his bed, swatting away Edd's hands.

Edd pushed him back, but tom uncurled himself and tried to crawl away.

That's when Edd did the unthinkable. He gripped Tom by his waist, pulling him towards him. His crotch smashed into Tom's ass, causing Tom to gasp.

He tried again to squirm away from Edd.

"You better be still before I pull your pants down and smack your bare ass."

Tom stilled, blushing immensely at Edd's words.

There he was, staying still in a doggy style position, his whole face red, letting Edd slide his hands up his shirt and take it off. Did I mention that Tom was incredibly horny?

Edd tossed his shirt on his hoodie, looking at his back. It was bruised straight down the spine and going onto his tailbone.

He ran his fingers on Tom's spine, pushing down and feeling for any bumps.

Tom jerked and whined, trying to move away from Edd.

"What did I say, Tom?"

Tom went still again, remembering what Edd had said earlier. He didn't want him to see his erection. Or know that he turned Tom on.

Edd's hands went lower down the bruised spine, stopping at the tailbone. He used both hands, wrapping his fingers around Tom's waist and pushing his thumbs into the bruising.

"Ah- ow, Edd!" Tom sprang forward.

"Alright, that's it." Edd pulled Tom's pants down to his knees, leaving his ass bare for him to see.

He noted how soft and plush Tom's ass looked.

"Wait, Edd-" Edd gave Tom a harsh smack across his ass, making Tom jump and cover his mouth.

He smacked again, making Tom jump again. He noticed Tom closing his eyes and his facial features softening.

Before Edd could deliver a third hit, he noticed something. Tom was hard and dripping precum.

"You're not supposed to like this, Tom." Edd delivered the third smack, watching Tom's cock twitch in excitement.

"S-Sorry..." Tom was completely embarrassed.

Edd sighed, thinking of a way for Tom to not enjoy it. That horny fucker.

"What if I..." Edd gently slid his finger over Tom's puckering hole.

Tom gasped, looking back at Edd, "Wh-what are you doing- ah~!"

Edd slid his finger into Tom, gently fingering him before adding another.

"You like this, don't you?"

Tom bit his lip, looking down in shame. Of course he liked it, why wouldn't he?

"Answer me, Tom." Edd smacked Tom's ass again, moving his fingers around inside him.

"Y... yes.. I like this."

"Do you want more~?" Edd's voice was starting to become seductive.

Tom thought for a moment. Did he want more? Well, it was better than having a lonely jack off session later. But he hasn't slept with Edd before. He's only hooked up with Tord.

Edd's fingers hit Tom's prostate, making him gasp, throw his face into the bed, and moan.

Edd smirked, hitting it again, making Tom moan more.

"God, Edd please fuck me~!" Tom moaned into the sheets.

Edd took his fingers out of Tom and took off his own pants. He teased Tom's hole with the tip of his dick, causing Tom to whimper and moan.

"Got any lube?"

Tom quickly pointed to his bedside table. Edd slid the drawer open, pulling out a bottle of lube. He put a droplet onto his finger and rubbed it around Tom's entrance. Then he coated his cock in the lube, making sure to get it slippery.

He set the lube aside, taking his cock into his hand and teasing Tom's entrance again.

"Edd, please~"

Edd slowly pushed his dick in, causing the smaller man moan and grip the sheets.

Once he was fully inside of Tom, he didn't give him time to adjust to his size. He started ramming into Tom, hitting his prostate with each thrust.

Tom's mouth gaped open, tears welling in his eyes. It was painful, but felt so good, and he was loving it.

Edd leaned forward, wrapping his hand around Tom's neck and pulling him back a little.

"You like wrecking the furniture? I'll make sure you don't walk for a few days."

Tom moaned at Edd's threat. He never knew Edd could be so rough.

He grabbed his own cock, jerking himself off, overstimulated by the pleasure from both ends.

Edd took his hands off of Tom's throat and gripped his cock. He started pumping his fist at the same pace he was thrusting, making Tom go nuts.

He could tell that he was close.

Edd gripped the base of Tom's cock, not allowing him to cum.

"Eeedddd~ plea-asEee~!"

"Uh-uh. Little Tommy isn't cumming today." Edd started panting as he was ramming into Tom.

He started getting close himself. He was panting and becoming sloppier with his thrusting. He made sure his grip didn't leave Tom's cock though.

Edd rested his head on Tom's bruised back, breathing heavily and lightly kissing it.

His thrusts became slower as he came inside Tom, filling him with his warm juices.

Tom moaned at the warmth that invaded his rear. He felt Edd pull out, but his hand didn't leave his base.

"Edd, please~! Let me cum."

Tom begged and whined, earning a harsh slap from Edd again.

"No. Bad boys don't get to cum."

Well, shit. Looks like Tom was going to have a lonely jerk off session after all.

[maevemarethyu]

Unexpected (1/?)

Summary: A Bucky x Reader fic

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Warnings: Cheating, Threats, Sad Boi Hour, Heatbreak, I’m not quite sure what else.

“Your husband is fucking my wife.”

Those were not the words you were expecting to hear when you open your door on a cool Wednesday night. Even more shocking was the man who said them: James Buchannan Barnes.

An Avenger was on your doorstep with red-rimmed eyes and a stoic look on his handsome face.

Your first instinct is to deny the accusation. Your husband loves you! You’d been married for nearly six years. You had been high school sweethearts, you never went to bed angry, you had your neighbors over for game days, hell you had just gone on your weekly date night yesterday!

A date night that he had to leave early because of an emergency at the station but, he couldn’t help that. He was a police officer for the NYPD and he couldn’t control when bad guys decided to be bad.

Right?

Yes. Your husband loves you which is why he hates working late all the time and he spoils you with gifts and flowers. He’s been planning you both a surprise trip for vacation which is why he never let you see his phone or laptop. He had gone to your favorite store to buy you a new perfume which is why his shirts smelled like rose instead of your signature lemon and rosemary scent.

Right?

The tears welling in your eyes make you realize just how much of a fool you really were and suddenly, all you want to do is scream. Your lips fall open to follow through but, your voice won’t comply and all that comes out is a single syllable.

“Oh.” You had never thought a two-letter word could hold so much heartbreak and, apparently neither did the ex-Winter Soldier because his mask of aloofness falls, revealing raw and unhidden heartbreak in his blue eyes.

The two of you stay silent for a moment, processing his words while staring at one another. The unspoken question of now what? lingers between you. What does one do when their world is shattering around them? When you find out that the person you thought was the love of your life was sleeping with another woman.

Last night… Patrick came home late and you two…

“I’m going to be sick.” You announce blearily before rushing to the bathroom and emptying the contents of your stomach. This couldn’t be happening. This was all just some sick dream because there was no way Patrick would do this to you; with the Winter Soldier’s wife no less. You were normally impeccable at spotting a liar but, you had been duped.

“I’m sorry.” The aforementioned soldier’s voice startles you and you wipe the sick from your mouth before facing him. “I-I thought you deserved to know.”

You appreciated it. Really, you did but, you couldn’t bring yourself to thank him. Ignorance wasn’t a good color on you but, you needed time to let the thoughts swirling in your mind settle. Speaking of swirling, you suddenly remember to flush the toilet with a cringe. You could handle blood, excrement, urine and everything in between but, vomit? That was your weak point and it made this whole situation burn more than the acid that had crawled up your throat.

Yet, there was no judgement in his blue eyes when you finally get the courage to look at him; only understanding.

Of course he was understanding. He was probably the only person on the planet that could understand your situation in depth. He was in the thick of it with you.

“I’m sorry too.” You manage after several deep breaths and his jaw clenches tightly. You didn’t know what you were apologizing for but, you could tell he appreciated it; his face was quite expressive for a well-known soldier turned assassin turned hero. “I’m Y/N.”

You knew he knew your name (how else would he have found you) but, you still felt the need to introduce yourself no matter how shitty of a situation you were in. His blue eyes widen in realization before shooting to his boots.

“Ah, shit. I really just rushed here and- That wasn’t the right way to go about this.” Understatement of the century. “James Barnes.” He finishes.

You would have called the way he stumbled over his words cute if your heart wasn’t currently lying in the bottom of your stomach in a million pieces with Patrick’s name written on every shard. It hurt.

“You know, I used to think writers exaggerated how heartbreak felt.” You let out a humorless and bitter laugh. “I didn’t think it could hurt this much.”

The cold tile of your bathroom floor was starting to make you butt ache but, you can’t bring yourself to move from your position resting against the bathtub and you accept this as your new life. Counting the tiles until the pain passes.

He hums in response, sliding down to the floor across from you, back against the wall. “This definitely ranks in the top five shittiest things to happen to me.”

That said something if everything you read about the Winter Soldier and HYDRA was true. You never could understand how people could treat each other so cruelly. Why someone would go out of their way to cause another pain. It just didn’t make sense to you.

Your next door neighbor’s music lilted through the walls as it did every night and it gave you an odd sense of comfort. She was a cello player and always seemed to play whenever you were having a bad day. You and James sit in silence and your eyes fall closed as you listen to her rendition of Electric Love.

It was one of your favorites but, Patrick always complained about the noise. Patrick.

The cheating, lying, manipulative piece of shit.

“How did you find out?” You hiss, immediately regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. You didn’t want to know. Right now you just wanted to curl up on your couch and eat enough ice cream to put you into a coma.

He clears his throat and you open your eyes to meet his. The pain in them shone clear and you could feel tears welling up again.

“I had my suspicions. Cla- She had been acting weird for a few months but, she kept turning it onto me. Told me I was imagining things.” His voice was thick with emotion and it broke the dam keeping the tears in your eyes. “It was Sam that saw them. He was testing out Redwing and we thought it would be funny to check on ou- the apartment; maybe tap it on the window and scare her a bit. Guess the joke was on me.”

Oh. You got sick just thinking about it. You couldn’t imagine seeing it first hand.

“I didn’t go home last night. Steve made me stay at the compound while Tony ran facial recognition on your… Tony told me he was married and I came straight here.”

His words cause you to sputter. “You mean they don’t know we know?!”

He shakes his head and a shaky breath leaves your lungs. You were half hoping Patrick got his ass handed to him Avengers style and that’s why he hadn’t come home yet; save you the trauma of confronting him yourself.

The other half of you was glad. You had more than a few choice words for your husband; the first ones being We’re getting divorced.

“I didn’t know how to face her.” He whispers and your ears barely catch it. He sounded so defeated and you were sure it matched the look on your face. You didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this. He was a goddamn hero.

The anger doubles in your chest, making up for his lack of. You’d never seen anyone so broken, hell, you’ve never felt so broken in your entire life and the people causing it were none the wiser. Patrick had told you he was staying at the station tonight but, you knew better now.

He was with her. They were together while you and James were crying on your bathroom floor, trying to salvage what was left of your hearts.

And you were starting now.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and dial the number of one of your best friends, ignoring James’ curious blue eyes. It rings exactly two times before you hear a warm hello?

“Hey Mattie.” Trying to keep your voice level fails miserably when you sniffle. “I- uh. Can we meet for breakfast tomorrow? Foggy too?”

“Y/N. What-“ You cut him off with a please and he agrees reluctantly. You agree to meet him at your favorite diner at nine tomorrow morning. You just had to get through tonight.

“Thank you Matt. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You hang up the phone and chuck it past James’ head, through the open door, and it hit the wall with a satisfying crack; catching the Avenger off guard. You weren’t a pacifist but, you weren’t usually so violent. You almost pitied Barnes, he was seeing the worst of you tonight and it was his first time meeting you.

“Friend of yours?” He asks with a barely there smile and you nod while chuckling at your own outburst.

“He’s my best friend… and a lawyer. I want the divorce papers ready so I can shove them in Pat’s stupid face when I confront him.” You notice his jaw twitch at the mention of divorce and you eye his sour look curiously. “What? You don’t expect me to stay with him after this, do you?”

Wide eyes meet yours and he shakes his head slowly. “No. It’s not that. It’s just divorce wasn’t really common in the thirties.”

Oh his sweet summer soul. You had almost forgotten he was a man out of time; still adjusting to the new age. It made your blood boil to think that his wife would betray him like this.

“Welcome to the twenty first century. Where you don’t have to stay married to cheating spouses.” You mutter, raising an invisible glass in a toast.

“How?” He asks, catching you off guard.

“How what? How does one get a divorce?” He nods, looking lost and you don’t hesitate. “Come meet my friends with me. This is all new for me too and I trust them with my life.”

You didn’t want to mention that you honestly wanted him there because he was proof that you weren’t the only one fooled. You weren’t alone in this.

“Are you sure? I understand that its private and-“

“Privacy went out the window when your wife fucked my husband.” You scoff, mirroring his crude language from earlier; he winces before apologizing again.

Your phone goes off in the hallway, signifying the timer you had set was finished and you stand with a groan; joints popping from sitting on the floor for too long. Your mind immediately switches in to work mode; eyes going dry and breathing evening out. It was a superpower of yours; the ability to compartmentalize your feelings.

“I need to feed Laysa.” You walk past the man on the floor, missing the look of horror on the man’s face. “She gets cranky when she’s hungry.”  

He doesn’t speak but, he follows you into the kitchen. You had premade the bottle so all you had to do was microwave it for a few seconds. You suppose having a stranger following you around in your home should be more worrying but, you were just happy you weren’t alone; having the ex-Winter Soldier near you felt as natural as breathing and you didn’t have the mental capacity to question why as of right now.

Barnes opens and closes him mouth a few times, looking as if he wanted to ask you a question but, unable to get the words out.

“How old is she?” He manages after nearly a minute of silence and you answer without much thought.

“Four weeks.” You hum, pulling the bottle out of the microwave and testing the temperature on your arm. “You know Ophelia’s Diner on West 49th?”

Once you’re sure the bottle is warm enough, you meet his blue eyes and a slight frown mars your face when you notice how pale he had gotten. He looks mortified but, nods anyway.

“Meet us there at nine tomorrow morning. Are you going home tonight?” You don’t know why you ask but, the thought of him having to go home and face- huh, you never actually got her name- left a rock in your stomach.

“S’gonna stay at the compound again. Make up some excuse. What about you? Are you two going to- I mean are you alright with- Is your husband?” He was stumbling on his words again and you find it oddly endearing that he was worried about you.

“Patrick is staying at the station tonight.” At least that’s what he told me You add under your breath but, its clear he hears you when his face turns grim. A painful silence envelops the room and can’t stand it so, you clear your throat and re-test the bottle.

James takes the hint and shuffles his feet, looking smaller than a man his size should. “I’m sorry again for showing up like this.”

“I appreciate you for having the balls to come here and tell me the truth.” You say with an honest, albeit dim, smile. “I’ve gotta get this to her before she gets cranky. I’ll see you tomorrow James.”

He tries to return your smile but, it comes out as more of a grimace. “Goodnight Y/N”

You watch his broad-shouldered form walk down the hall and disappear before opening the door to your spare bedroom turned nursery; weak mewls reaching you ears. You were late with the bottle and Laysa knew it. Cubs could be so dramatic.

[jeongyunhoed]

A year after the events of Past-Present-Future, Lee Mirae, Choi San, and Jeong Yunho receive a mysterious envelope containing photos and notes about the deaths of several individuals. The deeper they go into the case, they find that the entertainment industry hides a very dark secret.

Group: ATEEZ Pairing: Yunho/OC Genres: It’s a little bit of: adventure, romance, mystery, crime, fantasy, action. Things to note: It also features mentions of other idols/artists: Junhong (Zelo), Dean, Chanyeol, Enhypen etc.

Superpowers AU if it wasn’t obvious as well.

T/W: Themes of death, violence, demons, cults, blood, use of weapons and/or firearms, use of drugs (both recreational and medical), implied/referenced assault, implied/referenced suicide

A/N: As I have previously been posting, here are the links to the origin stories / the first manifestation of powers of Seonghwa - Mingi - Wooyoung - Jongho for reference. 

Masterlist

Chapter 4

“We’re back,” Mirae pulled up in front of the Kang Entertainment building again. Hongjoong and Yunho leaned over to get a look at the building, seeing cars come and go from the driveways and parking lots. There were lights that were still on in several floors of the building, one of which was where Mirae had her little scuffle with the idols in the CEO’s office. 

“You think he’d be in his office by now?” San asked, scanning the building for any indication of a back entrance or at least a visible fire exit. 

“It’s hard to tell, especially with those fans standing by to look at people coming in and out,” Mirae muttered. “But we’ll have to try, I’m just not sure they’ll be fond of seeing me come back.” 

“We could go through the artists’ entrance at the back, that’s where those cars seem to be going when they come in,” Hongjoong pointed to the other driveway that seemed to be for executives that was hidden from view from the main entrance they were looking at. “It doesn’t seem like we’ll be getting out of there quietly though.” 

“We never really get out of things quietly,” Yunho pointed out. “But it’s worth a shot, we need to speak to the CEO.” 

The four of them began putting on the belts Junhong gave them and they got out of the car. They saw a black van leave the driveway, followed by the cheers and screams from the group of fans that were quickly following the van and leaving the building. “How convenient,” San said, as they crossed the street. 

They caught up with another black van pulling up the driveway, filled with suited men that stepped down. Mirae, San, Yunho, and Hongjoong slipped in the midst of the crowd, making it past the security guards in time before the doors closed. “This would be so much easier if Hyuk was with us,” Mirae mumbled as they separated from the crowd that was going into one conference room and into the company proper. She led them down the hall that was in the direction of the CEO’s office, stopping when they saw that no one was at the secretary’s desk. 

It gave Yunho an idea, noticing a shadowy part of the hall. “Come over here, I’ll get us in,” He said. Mirae held his hand, while San and Hongjoong’s hands were on his shoulders. They vanished and reappeared in the office himself. Before they could move, they saw that the CEO wasn’t alone. The secretary was standing by, including a few other men who seemed to be executives as well. 

“Well, this is awkward,” San muttered. 

“I guess you remember me?” Mirae looked at the CEO. 

“Cha Jihyun, was it? Or… Lee Mirae?” The CEO smirked, looking impressed. “My, my, I guess the rumors were true. Mutants in my company.” 

“Demons in yours,” Mirae countered. “We’ve got some questions to ask you, I hope you don’t mind taking some time to talk.” 

The CEO chuckled. “Unfortunately I don’t, but they would,” He gestured to the executives that were standing up. All of them were brandishing batons and guns, some of the batons emitted sparks of electricity. Mirae took her staff out, Yunho with his sai, San with his harpoon, and the blades slid out of Hongjoong’s sleeves. The office doors opened, and in came more men, part of the security team, all armed and ready to attack. 

“Definitely like the one in Sky Sushi,” San nodded and he jumped over the couch to knock one out with the handle of his harpoon, prompting everyone else to attack. He shot his harpoon at the CEO who was about to leave and his eyes glowed, making the blade that pierced through his leg stun the man, making him squirm on the floor. He quickly tied the rope that was connected to the blade to the nearest steel object or furniture he could find while kicking away a few that were about to attack him. 

“Let’s try not to kill anyone, try,” Mirae eyed Yunho and Hongjoong, who threw off the others that were coming from opposite directions. Her eyes and fingertips glowed as she hit several of the executives that were about to charge at her, one of them bringing her out of the office and breaking through the door. Mirae took out a deck of cards from her pocket, shuffling with a flourish that made the cards attack them, sending them flying in all directions and hitting walls with a slight crack. 

Hongjoong used the blades in his sleeves to block any hits from the batons. Noticing how both San and Yunho were slowly getting outnumbered, he sped through each of them, knocking the executives off their feet, further incapacitating them by slicing their ankles deep enough to wound without dismembering them. Sparks of electricity were left behind in his wake as he took on the rest of the executives. It felt as if everything slowed down for him, everything and everyone was slowed down to the point that they almost seemed frozen, even shards of glass and other objects were floating in mid-air. Realizing that this was part of what his powers now brought on, he fixed a few of the shards to attack the executives instead, keeping Yunho, San, and Mirae out of harm’s way even as he could see they were holding their own. 

In a second, everything appeared to return to its normal pace, the four of them left standing amongst all the bodies that were either incapacitated, unconscious, and for some, already dead. All of them had some blood stains from the fight, and Hongjoong’s sleeves were stained with red. The CEO remained squirming on the floor as the four of them huddled over him. “Are you going to talk now? Or are we going to go through this again?” Mirae bent down to ask him. 

“Never,” The CEO tried to spit in her face but she leaned away in time. 

“You better answer if I were you,” Yunho threatened. “What do you know about Min Junghwa? You were on that list of people she was planning to sue when she died.” 

The CEO cackled. “You honestly believe that? I did nothing to her. Her career was going nowhere, she would be nothing without me!” 

“Oh really? What did she have to do to make you convince everyone she’s as good an actress as you’d promote her to?” Mirae asked. She took out the small atomizer from the compartment in her belt and sprayed some of its contents onto his face. “Tell the truth.” 

The CEO’s expression went blank. “Yes I did, I did make a pass at her. It was the price she needed to pay in order to succeed. Women hardly make it big in this industry unless you were exceptionally beautiful. Min Junghwa wasn’t as beautiful, but she needed to convince me she was worth it…” He blurted out almost easily, as if in a trance. 

The four of them stared at him. “What does Madame Seo have to do with it?” Yunho asked this time. 

“Madame Seo knows everything about everyone who matters in this industry. She gives us protection in exchange for…” the man stopped talking. 

“What? In exchange for what?” Mirae asked again. 

“I am protected, she knows who you are,” The man was staring at her, his eyes glazed over. “principium est, et finis est initium, principium est, et finis est initium,” He said, chanting in his place. 

Mirae, Yunho, and Hongjoong stared at him while San looked confused. “The beginning is the end is the beginning,” She muttered. “principium est, et finis est initium,” She repeated. 

A chill ran down San’s spine as Yunho and Hongjoong also seemed to understand. The man kept chanting in his place. “If she knows who we are, she’ll either want us alive or dead, and I have a feeling she wants the latter,” San said. 

“What do we do now?” Yunho turned to them as they got up. “At least we know he’s guilty, what then?” 

“The only other thing we need to do, track down the four others, who’s next?” Mirae took out the pieces of paper with the notes from her pocket. “Yang Tan, Seoul City Journal CEO,” She read. “You think we should call it a night?” 

“Yeah, I think we should,” San nodded. “We’ve got all day tomorrow, and I don’t think they’ll budge anymore tonight.” 

They suddenly heard beeping coming from their belts. Yunho took his communicator out, the slim piece of matte black metal extending. “Hello?” 

“Yunho? Mirae? It’s me,” Junhong was on the other line. “Mingi and Wooyoung are here, their mutant genes have been activated. Ino says Seonghwa and Jongho may be waiting for you at the record store.” 

“Seonghwa? Jongho? Did it happen to them too?” Mirae stared at San. Hongjoong looked just as surprised. 

“Ino could sense that it has,” Junhong said. “Find anything from the CEO?” 

“Yeah, he’s guilty as charged, but we’ll call it a night for now, we’ll go home,” Mirae replied. 

“Wait, what about me?” Hongjoong suddenly asked. 

“I can take you back to the safehouse,” Yunho suggested. “Or you could run all the way there since you’re fast enough.” 

“I don’t know the way back, though.” 

“Alright, I’ll bring you back,” Yunho nodded, he kissed Mirae on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.” He turned off the lights and with Hongjoong, they vanished. 

San turned the lights back on, looking over at the man who was still staring at the ceiling, eyes glazed over yet chanting and muttering the same phrase. “What do we do with him?” He asked. 

Mirae shrugged, retracting her staff and with a swift hit to the head, knocked the man unconscious. “He’ll snap out of it in the morning, I guess.” 

~ 

Mirae and San arrived later that night, pulling up in front of the now-closed store for the day. “Both of them are here?” San turned to her. 

“That’s what Junhong said they would be. I can only imagine what kind of powers the two of them would have,” Mirae observed the store for a sign of anything unusual happening inside. “Keep your harpoon ready.” 

San reached into his belt, hand already poised to take his weapon out as they parked the car and quietly got down. The two of them went to the side entrance that led to her office that was also the back room. Mirae’s hand was already on her staff while holding what was left of her deck of cards in the other as they approached the door. They stopped when they saw a faint green glow from the inside and what looked like a large rip across the curtain. San quietly turned the knob and opened the door, the two of them ducking when an object was flying towards them, crashing against the threshold. 

“...Hey! It’s us!” Mirae called out, feeling for the light switch to turn it on. 

Seonghwa stood in his place near the couch, frozen. Jongho was seated in the corner, his expression pained and his sleeves bloody. “Mirae? It’s you!” Seonghwa breathed a sigh of relief. 

Before Mirae could answer, she was pinned against the wall by Jongho, who still looked like he was in pain yet there was some rage. “Did you cause this?! What’s happened to me?!” He said, his hands on her collar. San and Seonghwa quickly tried to pry him off but spikes began to appear from the holes and rips of his shirt and coat. 

“I didn’t do anything to you! This was going to happen!” Mirae dropped her staff and deck of cards, both hands on his wrists. “You hated the fact that I was a mutant, and now you are one too.” 

“Explain before I do this,” Jongho pulled back one hand, and she could see it was twisting and turning into a sharp point, aiming for her throat. 

“Get your hands off my sister,” San pointed his harpoon gun at his temple. “If you want answers, you get your hands off her now before I pull the trigger.” 

“Jongho, just stop,” Seonghwa said with an exasperated sigh. Jongho didn’t budge. “Stop it,” His hands began to glow as he tried to concentrate, the shorter male slowly moving away, as if getting pulled off of Mirae. Seonghwa tried to focus, feeling some resistance from Jongho until he pulled him away, almost sending him flying across the room and crashing onto the boxes near the file cabinet. 

Mirae slid to the floor, quickly picking up her staff and the deck of cards, San helping her up as they watched Jongho get up. “So, you’re a telekinetic too, huh?” She said to the taller. 

“Is that what this is?” Seonghwa said, the green glow from his hands fading. 

“Yeah, my best friend’s a telekinetic too. When did that happen?” She asked. 

“Hours ago. I was at a shooting gallery when it happened.” 

“What about him?” San gestured to Jongho, the spikes suddenly disappearing back into his body, making him groan. 

“Around the same time as I did, I guess,” Seonghwa shrugged. “But he’s probably on the run by now, he got on the bus to go here,” He added. 

“Did you kill people?” Mirae glanced at him. 

“A bunch of drunk dudes tried to pick a fight, and then it happened,” Jongho breathed, nearly staggering as he sat down on the nearest chair. “I swear, this is more painful than those missions we had.” 

“Coincidentally, Mingi and Wooyoung are also going through the same thing right now,” Mirae revealed. “Hongjoong’s activated this morning.” 

“So you mean we all...have powers?” Seonghwa stared at her. She nodded. “...Good thing I came here then, I remembered this was where you’d be. Where’s Yunho?” He asked. 

They heard someone appear in the dark breakroom. Mirae gestured to the room, and out of the shadows, Yunho appeared, stopping when he saw Seonghwa and Jongho. “Are you alright?” He looked at Mirae’s slightly ripped collar. San still looked especially wary of Jongho, gripping the handle of his harpoon gun tightly.  

“Yeah, I’m now wondering what to do with these two,” Mirae said. “If you two want to stay over, I think you can have the couch. Yunho’s couch is also free for one of you to stay in,” she suggested. 

“Wait, I think I have a better idea of where we can stay tonight,” San said. “We may as well all go back to the safehouse.” 

“That’s true. That way all of them are together and Junhong and Ino could better handle them. You two will want to train with Junhong, he knows what to do,” Mirae advised. 

“Oh right, he trained you back in the Center, didn’t he?” San turned to her, and she nodded. 

“We need to tell Junhong what we found out from the CEO too, he’ll probably have answers for us,” Mirae said. She turned to Yunho and sighed as she reached for his hand. “This is probably what Ino meant when he said unit.” 

Yunho chuckled. “Yeah, very much like old times.” 

~ 

Ino and Junhong looked at them with satisfied smiles, seeing all of them together including Mirae and San at the safehouse. Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Jongho, and Wooyoung all seemed to be terrified at the realizations of their powers. Junhong looked especially fascinated as he wrote down notes on his clipboard. “The CEO of Kang Entertainment was muttering something in latin when we got around to questioning him,” Mirae explained, figuring to get to the point. “He said the beginning is the end is the beginning. It’s all he kept saying when we asked what Madame Seo wanted in return for her protection.” 

“You understood latin?” San looked surprised. 

“So do the rest of them. I figured it was one of the things programmed into us back at the sanitarium,” Mirae gestured to the boys, squeezing Yunho’s hand. 

“The beginning is the end is the beginning,” Ino tried to think. “It sounds like a mantra.” 

“I-I saw how those actresses died,” Wooyoung suddenly spoke. “They were killed by something that wasn’t human. It was like a creature. Blood, everywhere.” 

“So were those idols I fought in that agency, so were the clerks in Madame Seo’s fashion label,” Mirae said. 

“The only way we can put an end to this is to make Yeosang talk, to be honest. He’s the only connection we have to that woman, whatever she probably is,” Yunho looked frustrated. “He even drugged me for god’s sake.” 

“We can’t even reach Yeosang. That bastard’s way too guarded up at that tower of his,” San frowned. “He’s never going to talk. Not even if Mirae’s the one asking him.” 

“I won’t need to ask,” Mirae suddenly had an idea. “In fact, we don’t even need to ask him at all, it only takes one look from Wooyoung and we’ll have what we need.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at the mention of his name. “Eh?”

“You’re all we need,” Mirae said. “You only need to look at Yeosang to figure it out, get the information we need. That guy might not talk, but his memories won’t lie to us either.” 

“What about the rest of us?” Mingi asked, fingers fumbling with the lighter he was holding. 

“The rest of you will be with me, just so you can all figure out how to train your powers even just for a little bit,” Junhong chimed in. “At least if you can’t control it, Ino hyung would be here to help.” 

“It might be best if Seonghwa tagged along with the four of you too,” Ino turned to Mirae. “Something tells me he’ll be useful in interrogations, especially with what you’re trying to find.” 

She eyed the older male. “...What did you see? I know you saw something, what did you see?” 

Ino cleared his throat, unable to answer. Wooyoung looked at him. “You’re worried. About Mirae,” He said, sensing his feelings. “He’s worried about you, he’s worried about Yunho too, and San. That’s all I could get from him, his mind’s blocking me so I can’t sense anything else from him.” 

“Is something going to happen to us?” San asked curiously, finding it odd that Ino would be worried as he knew him to always be especially confident in the three of them. Ino was always vocal about his confidence in Mirae, but what Wooyoung said seemed to hint that something was wrong. 

Wooyoung turned to Ino again. “I can’t tell. It’s like he knows how to block that now too,” He said. 

“You’re getting the hang of your secondary powers already, yes I think that’s a secondary ability you have,” Junhong suddenly pointed out, and Wooyoung looked impressed with himself at the realization. “As for your shadow form, going with the three of them could be your practice.” 

“Go to that Yang Tan now, I see something already happening,” Ino broke his silence. 

“Alright then, we’re going,” Mirae nodded. 

“We’ll be in touch then,” San told them as they turned to leave, Wooyoung getting up to follow them, taking his katanas along with him. As the doors closed behind them, Junhong turned to the older male. 

“What did you see?” He asked, also alarmed by the lack of response from him earlier. 

“I saw pain, a lot of pain. For Mirae, for Yunho, for San,” Ino muttered. 

“Then why are you letting them go out there?” Junhong looked concerned. “Why are you sending them out there now?” 

“Because they don’t have much time,” Ino replied quietly, looking down as if trying to process his visions. “The faster they move, the sooner we’ll have done good. Which is also why we must start training them immediately, they will need the four of them, they’re a unit.” 

“Unit? Are we going to be a unit?” Hongjoong looked confused. 

“Yes, it’s something I’ve begun thinking about ever since we brought the five of you in here. We know Mirae, Hyuk, and Chanyeol have been doing this much longer, but I figure it’s time for Mirae to lead again. No doubt Hyuk will find like-minded people to lead, as will Chanyeol,” Ino said quietly. 

“Ah, very much like old times then. Hongjoong would be her second-in-command,” Seonghwa pointed out. 

“Yes, to borrow a page from the people who turned all of you into the people you are now. Everything is leading up to this moment, the dangers of the world are beginning to surface, human and non-human,” Ino explained. 

“You’re talking like your father,” Junhong looked like he had grown six heads. “We all know what happened when your father tried something like that. The Seoul attack happened, your father dying happened.” 

“The Seoul-” Mingi gaped, almost dropping his lighter. “The Seoul attack?! That was all over the news at the time.” 

“Yeah, Mirae, Hyuk, and Chanyeol are the last surviving members of the group that saved the country, perhaps the world. We were there with them,” Ino revealed. “If we’re not careful, and if they don’t move quickly, something similar to the Seoul attack will be happening in a span of days.” 

“Alright then, what do we do?” Hongjoong got up. 

“The four of you, go with Junhong, he will run some tests for the four of you, Wooyoung’s will be done when they arrive,” Ino went to his office and closed the door behind him. 

Junhong sighed. “The four of you will have to come with me to the lab. I’m not getting paid enough for this, honestly,” He shook his head, leading them into the other room. 

“You get paid for this?” Mingi asked as they followed him into a white room. 

“Yeah, Ino hyung’s the only son of Professor Inhwan Jang, prize-winning scientist and occult enthusiast,” Junhong explained as if like clockwork. “Also one of those anonymous billionaires.” 

~ 

With some help from Junhong, Mirae, San, Yunho, and Wooyoung were driving down the village close to where the restaurant Sky Sushi was. “It’s almost too predictable knowing that Yang Tan lives in this village,” Mirae said, looking on at the quiet roads and mansions lining the subdivision. “I’m surprised Sky Sushi’s open too.” 

“Yeosang owns that restaurant, of course he’s going to reopen it,” San kept a lookout from the passenger seat. “Didn’t take him that long to get rid of all the blood and dust from the last time we were there.” 

“It has been a year,” Yunho muttered, leaning over in his seat behind Mirae. 

Wooyoung watched them. “So, the three of you have been doing this since the last time we met, huh?” He asked. 

“Well this is the first time in a year that we’re doing this again,” Yunho pointed out. “We’ve got day jobs.” 

The shorter male looked intrigued but chose to say nothing more. Mirae checked her phone for the address again and pulled up in front of the house that seemed to indicate that the CEO himself was around. “We’re here,” She said. 

Wooyoung looked up at the windows, sensing an unusual presence yet he couldn’t figure out what it was. It was exactly like the visions he had from watching the news. “Yang Tan’s in there,” He said, staring at the windows at the back that appeared to be dimly lit. 

“Then let’s go,” Mirae got out of the car, the three men following suit. 

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Oceans & Forests I

.....

Tony reminds Natasha of the ocean. Deep and dark and wild and warm and cold and full of hidden currents and beautiful. When he looks at her, she can see hurricanes on the horizon. (Requested by @starkxromanoff )

.....

Natasha was sixteen years old the first time she saw the ocean.

She thought she knew what oceans and seas and beaches and shorelines were. She’d been told the planet was 70 percent water. She knew how to swim. She knew how to row. She knew how to tell when a frozen lake was safe to cross, how to hold her breath for well over a minute, how to dive, how to fish. She knew rivers and lakes and ponds and creeks and streams and that horrible pool tucked away in the bowels of the Red Room.

But she didn’t know oceans.

No one told her how beautiful they were, that they were rarely ever just blue, that sunsets and sunrises and storms and sunshine and starlight altered their colours and textures a thousand different ways, turning their surfaces into artworks you not only saw but felt and heard and breathed.

No one told her how powerful they were, that when you stood on a cliff overhanging dark, roiling waters, you would feel so afraid and yet at peace, so inexplicably yet irrevocably pulled to it, as if you could just fall right in and it would accept you, welcome you, embrace you.

The first time she saw the ocean, she felt released. There were hundreds of factors that pushed her to want freedom, but being in the presence of the ocean connected all the reasons and set her determination in stone.

When she was not yet twenty, not yet a woman, she rejected the only world she knew. She fled the Red Room and, to make sure they understood just how much she hated them, she sought out their enemies and joined their ranks with a vengeance and a mission to turn the tide.

Working with SHIELD, she saw the world. Clint taught her to take photographs just for herself. Coulson got her into the habit of picking up souvenirs for no reason other than to remember. Fury once gave her a postcard and she decided to collect them after that.

She touched every ocean, even nearly drowned in some of them. Atlantic, Indian, Pacific, Southern, Arctic; she loved them too much to ever hate them, no matter what happened... but she couldn’t pick a favourite, either.

A mission went wrong and she ended up injured somewhat worse than usual. Fury knew better than to bench her while she healed so he gave her a deceptively simple task: keep an eye on an ill Tony Stark.

She thought it would be easy. She knew how people worked, she knew how to get close to anyone, how to read them, how to deceive them, how to manipulate information or action from them.

But she didn’t know Tony Stark.

At first, everything seemed to follow the picture she had in mind: he took her at face value and let her in. He looked and acted and spoke exactly as the reports and classified files dictated he should; honestly, Natasha felt like an Olympic swimmer restricted to a kiddie pool.

A faint sense of boredom threatened mere moments before she found herself thrown in the deep end.

It turned out his smooth surface hid tremedous depths no report or file or news clipping ever so much as mentioned.

Tired and scared and alone, he discarded his mask for a mere instant. He looked her in the eyes and asked her what she would do if this were her last day. And, just like that, she was sixteen again, standing on that cliff, watching the waves crash against jagged rocks, her heart pounding with fear and fascination.

Within just a week, her cover was blown. He saved the day and himself; the world would never know the victory was half hers but that was hardly new. They went their separate ways without a goodbye; Natasha knew not to linger on shorelines—oceans had a way of convincing you to stay awhile.

On her drive back, she stopped to pick up a Malibu postcard—a souvenir of one of the wildest weeks she’d ever experienced.

Not too long after that, the world needed saving and the Avengers came together to answer the call. Life pulled them in different directions afterwards but they found themselves returning to each other; like rivers splitting off, going their own way, but always tracing back to the sea.

One of their missions took them to Australia. They made quick work of the AIM base that thought no one would bother to notice odd-goings-on in an abandoned mining town in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Clint begged them to stay a little longer after the clean-up because he was dying for an “Aussie Burger with the lot.” Also, it was nice and warm and sunny while New York was covered in snow, and when did they ever just do something for fun anyway?

Tony needed to decompress; Natasha asked him to take her for a drive.

After a few hours, they reached a quiet coastal town. They slipped their shoes off, left them under a sun-bleached bench, and meandered on the beach until the crashing waves and the breezy air convinced them the world wasn’t always fast and loud and terrifying.

They talked; idle conversation broken up by bouts of just listening to the soft rush of the sea.

She told him about the first time she saw the ocean; he told her this was the first time he’d set foot on a beach since before Afghanistan.

They found a spot to sit on the sand and watch the sun set; it practically fell out of the sky, dragging light and warmth with it.

Natasha couldn’t find many whole shells but she was just as happy collecting shards; Tony noticed her self-appointed task and joined in. They gathered a handful each and he offered to keep them in his pockets for her.

Afternoon faded to evening; twilight gave way to night. “We should get going soon,” became: “We’ll leave when it gets dark,” until that ship sailed and they settled for: “May as well wait until the frantic text from Steve.”

Tony lay back on the sand and laced his fingers behind his head. He didn’t fall asleep but he let his eyes close, his breathing deep and calm; the arc reactor’s glow seeping through his dark shirt matched the moonlight shining on the water.

Natasha had never seen him so at peace; spending the end of the day on the shore hadn’t brought her nearly as much serenity as seeing his soft, relaxed smile did.

The world liked to say Tony Stark was a raging fire; having seen him fighting to save the world on an almost daily basis, Natasha couldn’t deny it was an apt depiction, but it didn’t fit every piece of him.

Tony was more the ocean. Deep and dark and wild, warm and cold; full of hidden currents and secrets no mortal could ever hope to understand. Mystery and myth and undeniable fact.

Before he drifted off to sleep on the sand, Natasha nudged him in the side and told him they’d best get a move on.

She drove the way back; Tony tried to protest but couldn’t convince her through all the yawning. He fell asleep in the passenger seat before they even reached the freeway.

Natasha didn’t mind; she had the radio for company. She found a classic rock station and left it there. She opened the windows and enjoyed the salt air for as long as she could.

A week later, in amongst life carrying on, a little package wrapped in brown paper appeared outside her bedroom door. The only clue to its sender was a sticky note with a rough sketch of what was probably meant to be a kangaroo but looked more like a deformed rat.

Inside was a glass bottle filled with the broken shells they had collected (and Natasha had forgotten).

She gave it pride of place on her bedside table, right under her lamp and beside her alarm. Whenever the sunlight caught the bottle just right, she could see all the little iridescent flecks of mother-of-pearl and soft-edged shards of sea glass littered amongst matte whites and pinks and oranges and blues.

It was small, but it reminded her of one of the most amazing days she’d ever had... and the most incredible person she’d ever met.

It reminded her of freedom and peace and secrets that weren’t always bad.

It reminded her that she finally had a favourite ocean...

[dent-de-leon]

Nonagon is a mystery to me as well and I wish we knew more of him. Is it the eyes? The tomb? The blood? If Molly had lived to be chased down by Lucien then where would Nonagon manifest? Would he take control over Molly like Obann did with Yasha? Maybe corrupt him little by little as he leveled up? Or was he always there within Lucien, part of that charismatic cruelty of his? What was his previous goal, before he met his end at Vess' hand? I have so many questions. But I don't think (1/x)

we'll ever get the chance to figure it all out. Breaking the 4th wall for a moment, Nonagon was probably created before Lucien, a part of the deep lore sparkled into reality by a PC's blank backstory. Then Lucien's characterization came from the life Tal gave to Molly: the mannerisms, the accent, the ideals, the hearts broken when he met his fate. I can't tell if Matt took notes when Molly was still alive or if he studied the character during the hiatus, but one thing is clear: (2/x)

He's doing an incredible job at messing with our heads and tugging at our hearts. I want Molly back, for more than just a brief moment. I want to know more about Lucien and his relationship with the TT and the MT. And I want to understand the essence of the Nonagon and how he came into being. And wow, this got a bit longer than I thought it would. I'm sorry for throwing more questions than anything at you. I'm just so fascinated by these characters. I wish I could have them all. (3/3)

oh this is all really interesting!! I enjoyed reading all your asks, there are so many good points here. Throwing this under a cut because I went a bit long.

It’s interesting to think that Matt may have wrote the concept of the Nonagon before Taliesin even started planning Mollymauk. That’d be a really neat coincidence, if Molly just happened to figure perfectly into this grand relic of ancient history Matt was already mapping out. Though I think it’s just as likely Matt could’ve tweaked the Somnovum’s story to suit Molly. One thing’s for sure, and it’s that a lot of this arc of eldritch horror and Lucien’s rise to power was crafted for Taliesin specifically. 

You can see how excited he gets in certain moments with Lucien, how shocked and invested he is when that little shard of Molly bleeds through. Wherever Nonagon’s story ends, I hope Taliesin is happy with it. Similarly, I think a part of why Matt is able to show these little echoes of Molly in Lucien so well is because he knows Taliesin, and ultimately knows where he wanted to go with the character. 

As for whether Molly would’ve ever become the Nonagon himself had he lived, I feel like he was somehow spared from that fate. Partially because I feel his soul is now his own, and so he wasn’t corrupted by the Somnovum the way Lucien was. Partially because Lucien’s death might’ve temporarily severed his body’s connection with the Somnovum. Because, even with all nine Eyes, Molly was never tormented by any of Cognoza’s dreams. He wasn’t tortured by the screaming chorus or all seeing eyes in countless nightmares, didn’t get any strange abilities from the Eyes. For all intents and purposes, they were just...inactive for him. And I’m incredibly grateful he was able to avoid losing himself to this like Lucien. 

After watching the most recent episode, the Nonagon as his own character and as an extension of Lucien and Molly--well, he’s even more of a mystery to me. But I do have some thoughts. 

Something about all the Somnovum and Lucien begging the Nein to join them, to become one with them, to share in their life and power...I don’t know, it feels like an echo of when Molly was empty. Wistful, longing, desperate to hold onto something that feels real. Mollymauk found that: “Joy can fill an awful lot in a person’s life.” But this city can feed and feed, yet it will never be full. It’s cold, dead, all consuming. Empty.

Lucien the Nonagon still longs for the Nein, I think. To be near them and keep them by his side. It’s from Molly’s affection bleeding through, but processed and interpreted through Lucien’s own impressions. A bit warped and twisted by how he tries to rationalize it. “I feel like you all have some part to play still...like you’ve a use to me.” “Because try as I might, a part of me still likes them.” “Yes, that must be it. I needed witnesses...” 

They were merely more pieces to manipulate in this game of his--of course he didn’t kill them, they were useful. Or he needed an audience. Or he had to have witnesses. Time and again Lucien makes excuses for why he lets them live, lets them go, but still selfishly keeps them so close. “I left you alive? Why did I leave you alive?”

Lucien telling the Nein to join him, wanting to share in what he’s feeling with them, how he sounds so wistful and soft, “Come! It’s far prettier up here.” “I wish I could share it, but...you need to be with us. You have to be with the pattern.” Come see the view, just stop and rest awhile. It’s reminiscent of Lucien watching the sunrise with Caduceus, taking a moment to just breathe and enjoy something beautiful. 

He drives all his followers to their doom, yet still he clings to the Nein. Even after being corrupted by wasting away in Cognoza for years, shattered into broken fragments the Somnovum themselves pieced back together in their own distorted design. Lucien, the person he was before the Nonagon, whoever Cree once knew and called out to in her final moments--a part of him was a bit lost or lonely I think, desperately craving some way to stave off the “emptiness” in his own life. And maybe that was something he thought the city could provide. The power to turn dreams into reality, to grant any one of his desires. 

It’s strange, because...the Nonagon is this hungry, distorted presence of manipulation and control, an otherworldly entity that came here to obliterate the Somnovum and rule whatever remained of these ruins. The Lucien that was once a mortal man had long since been lost to this. That’s not even factoring in whatever compassionate shard of his soul was broken off and became Mollymauk. And yet, we see a gentler side of Lucien last episode, I think. He seems oddly welcoming when he sees the Nein. He wants them here with him, even if he can no longer understand why. Lucien, even while one with the Somnovum and the City, is still compelled to act on Molly’s feelings for the Nein--in his own distorted way. 

I think Lucien as the Nonagon, still feeling this ache from Molly’s heart, the way Mollymauk’s soul is still fighting and enduring within him...I think it means hope. More hope than I’ve had all campaign. Molly at least will survive this I think. And given that his soul was once part of Lucien’s, we can hope that maybe a part of Lucien’s heart, this glimpse into the better person he could’ve been--that lives on in Molly. 

[scoopsgf]

1 + 96

It’s raining when it happens.

Raining just like when it had happened to Ben.

Only this time they’re inside, and it’s the thunder that counts: rolling across the swelling black sky after a crack of white-hot lightning, so loud it dulls the sound of the bullet going in.

But Peter hears her fall. He scrambles off of his bed and bursts into the kitchen to find May on the floor, in a steadily-growing pool of blood, surrounded by shards of glass from the shattered window she’d been shot through.

He stops breathing. He stops thinking.

Peter swings to the hospital because it’s the fastest way there. He knows how long it takes for ambulances to travel in this city; he’s well aware of the odds of her surviving a five minute wait time. Using his biocables cuts that neatly in half.

He bursts through the sliding glass doors of the emergency room and calls for help. It comes quickly. Suddenly there is a sea of blue-scrubbed doctors taking May from his arms, transferring her to a gurney, getting an oxygen mask on her face, wheeling her away. “Were you shot? Are you hurt?”

Peter blinks. It takes a minute to register that the nurse is asking about him.

“What?”

He comes back into focus. “Are you hurt?” the nurse asks again.

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s not—it’s not my blood.”

His voice is strangely flat. The nurse grabs a chart. “Do you know her name? Where did you find her?”

Peter blinks. Does he know her name? What kind of a question is that? Of course he… of course he knows his own aunt’s name…?

“Do you need to sit down?”

“Her name is May Parker,” Peter blurts. “Just—call this number,” he takes the chart from her and scrawls down seven digits he’s memorised by heart and hands it back. “They’ll come and they’ll take care of her. I have to go.”

The nurse’s brow furrows. “Sir, you’ll have to give a statement to the police—”

He rips out of her grip and runs out the way he came in.

—

It takes three rings, but then the phone is picked up.

“I need your help.”

—

He meets her in the back alley behind his building. “Hey,” he greets, and in return he gets a punch to the chest.

Peter chokes and rubs his ribs. “God, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Nat’s features contort with pity. “Sorry, but in my defence you shouldn’t have snuck up on me.”

“I thought you were supposed to be some world-renowned spy.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” she retorts, “but here we are.”

Peter’s face darkens. It’s stopped storming and the rain has dulled to a lazy drizzle. The ends of her hair are damp and curling and her breath steams. He steps around her and scans the building opposite his own. “Up there,” he says, jerking his chin toward a window on the fourth floor—which is directly opposite the one above his kitchen sink.

Nat follows his line of sight. “You sure you wanna do this?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, be with your aunt?”

Peter’s fists curl. “I’m not just gonna stand there like an asshole while she—” his throat stings with bile; he swallows. “I want to do something. I need to do something.”

Nat raises her hands placatingly. “Whatever you say, little spider.”

—

They sneak into the apartment building. It’s nondescript, pretty much exactly the same as his own except it clearly hasn’t been remodelled since the seventies so the carpet looks like something out of The Shining, but the layout is an exact match.

Nat picks the lock on apartment 4D and they slowly creep inside.

It’s completely empty. Like, no furniture, no bed, nothing. Peter’s stomach turns as the sweep the place only to come up empty handed, until—

“Bullet casings,” he announces, crouching by the window to pick them up.

Nat’s at his side in an instant. She takes one and inspects it. “FMJ,” she says with a frown. “Jesus, whoever did this really wanted to make sure she’d stay down.”

At the look on his face, she sighs. “Sorry.”

“Oh, sure.”

Nat leans out the window and scans the alley below. There’s nothing but a dumpster and a cardboard box full of kittens that Peter’s secretly been feeding for about a week.

“What do you think?”

“I think,” she says, “we need to speak to the landlord.”

—

The landlord is a little old guy named Skipper who tells them repeatedly that he can’t give out private information.

Then Nat gets him in a chokehold and he starts talking.

“He’s this creepy dude,” Skipper wheezes, rubbing his blotchy throat. “Reggie Farbank. Lanky hair, beady eyes, tall. Comes and goes all the damn time but he never stays long. Just checks his mailbox and leaves.”

Peter and Nat exchange a glance. He returns his gaze to Skipper. “Do you have a copy of his mail key?”

—

Reggie’s PO Box is empty except for one note, folded in half with Peter’s last name on it.

Nat scowls as she reads it over his shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” she growls.

—

Tony sits by May’s bed, pinching his brow as he listens to the steady, rhythmic beat of her monitors. It’s been about twenty minutes since she was moved from the OR to the ICU; the bullet had been through and through, but it had fractured her collarbone and shattered her shoulder blade—not to mention the damn thing was half an inch from puncturing her lung.

She hasn’t woken up yet. The doctors had mentioned it would be a while.

“Where’s Peter?” He’d asked them when he’d arrived, only to be met with bewildered looks.

Only one of the nurses had asked, “Might’ve been the kid who brought her here. He looked pretty shaken up. Gave us her name and your number and then ran off.”

Tony had sworn something nasty in Italian and pressed for more information only to receive none. They were all clueless. The storm had taken out their power and they’re running on backup generators, so there’s no security footage to run through. Peter’s trackers are off—but they were turned off manually, which means he had to be alive to do that.

He’s not dead but he’s not here and Tony doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

The smell of rosemary herald’s Pepper’s entrance into the little room. She runs her hand through Tony’s hair. “Anything?”

“Nadda.”

“You’ve tried calling—?”

“I’ve tried everything,” Tony says, a little harshly, and then sighs. “I’m sorry. I—I sent Happy down to check the apartment and… and to clean it up.”

Pepper looks a little sick. She hands him her coffee. He takes a long drink.

“Pete’s phone is off.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m—I don’t know.”

He’s clueless. Helpless. It doesn’t make any damn sense. Why would Peter run? There’s no way he was involved in this, so what could he possibly be doing?

“Do you want to go and look for him? I can wait with May.”

Tony shakes his head. “I’m not leaving her. He wanted me here so I’m staying. Why else would he have had them call us?”

“Tony—”

“I’m staying,” he says. “Besides, I already called in Rhodey. He and Happy are combing the streets as we speak, but odds are he’ll show up here and I’m not gonna be gone when he does.”

He’ll need me.

—

Peter and Nat make no sound as they slowly creep through the storage facility.

He’s holding a gun.

Guns are not his thing, but he hasn’t really given himself the chance to think about it. Nat had put it in his hands and if the time comes when she tells him to shoot, he knows he probably will. He’s angry enough to, bitter enough. He can’t stop wondering how long Farbank was watching them for; he’s been feeling off for days, spine tingling as he walks through the house, the hair on the back of his neck rising when May opens the window to let fresh air in.

He should have known.

He should have seen something like this coming.

“Any idea who he is?” Nat had asked on the drive over.

“No,” Peter had replied, checking the magazine on the glock.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to find out ourselves, then.”

Only the address had been written on the note they’d found, but Peter doesn’t need the unit number. He just follows that feeling—it’s like a game of hot or cold, but instead it’s his stomach twisting and his skin prickling.

It’s like someone is stabbing needles into the ends of his fingers when they finally find the right unit. Peter takes one side and Nat takes the other. Their eyes meet across the distance.

He nods.

She shoots the lock.

—

“She’s crashing—code blue—”

“Someone get me the defibrillator!”

—

“I knew you’d come.”

Peter and Nat stand at the mouth of the unit with their guns raised. Peter’s bones feel like lead and his mouth tastes like metal.

There are pictures of him all over the walls: some blurry, some clear as day, all taken from the vantage point of Farbank’s apartment. He feels like vomiting but doesn’t. Instead he says, “So exactly what the fuck is this supposed to be?”

Farbank looks crazed. His hair is greasy like it hasn’t been washed in days and his eyes are bloodshot, pupils blown. He’s clearly high off his rocker. “You are the bane of my existence,” he says wildly. “You destroyed my family, so I destroyed what’s left of yours!”

Peter glances at Nat, who looks just as confused as him. “Enlighten me.”

“My brother,” Farbank snaps. “My big brother, Matt. I bet you don’t even remember him, do you? It was six months ago! He was—he was all I had left—we only had each other and you tore us apart!”

Farbank sweeps one of his many monitors off his desk with his outburst. In response, Nat cocks her gun and steps a little closer to the wall to give herself a wider range.

“So what, Parker here got your brother arrested so you decided to commit murder? Get yourself locked up too?”

“At least then I would be with him,” Farbank growls. There are tears on his cheeks. “Do you have any idea what they do to people in jail?!”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” she says coolly. “So what’d he get put away for?”

Farbank looks down, mouth twisting. “Armed robbery,” he whispers.

“Oh?” Nat tilts her head. “Sounds pretty justified to me.”

“We had no money!”

“But you had other options, I’m sure,” Nat says. “Robbery is just easier. Put the gun down.”

Peter had forgotten Farbank was even holding one. He starts sobbing, but then like a switch being flicked his monologue starts back up again. “It doesn’t matter! You can kill me and it won’t matter! The whole world is gonna find out your identity, Peter Parker! I have hours of footage, frames upon frames of proof! Did you really think you could just sneak out of your apartment every night and no one would notice?”

Nat squints at Peter. “Good question.”

Peter scowls. “Suck it, Nat.”

“Whatever,” she looks back at Farbank and then, in one swift move, she lowers her weapon. “Relax, I’m not gonna kill you.”

Farbank blinks. “What?”

“Yeah,” Peter adds, “what?”

Nat shrugs. She advances toward Farbank with her hands raised. “Everything is gonna be okay, I promise. If you just hand me the gun—”

Farbank lashes out, but Nat is quicker and she sees it coming: she disarms him in one swift move and plants a Widow Bite on his neck that has him convulsing on the floor and frothing from the mouth.

“Ew,” Peter says.

Nat hums. She’s already focused on hacking into the computers. Peter zip ties Farbank’s wrists and hears her snort. “God, talk about amateur hour.”

Peter isn’t listening. He stares down at the man who shot and possibly killed his aunt. “He deserves worse than this.”

“I know,” Nat replies easily, “but I don’t want you to be the one who administers his justice. That shouldn’t be your weight to bear.”

“Some people would say it’s my right.”

“Not me.” She types a few lines of code into the system and then says, “Wiped.”

Peter watches her promptly turn away and start ripping his pictures off the wall. Frustrated, he gets between her and them. “Nat,” he says, “what he did—”

“Hey,” she puts her hand on his arm, “you’re angry right now. You want to hurt him and I get it. But you won’t. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday you’re gonna come to your senses and remember that it wouldn’t do you or May any good. In fact it would only hurt her more, so let me handle it, okay?”

He sighs and closes his eyes for a second. The next thing he knows, Nat’s arms are around him. He’s only got a couple of inches on her, so her chin rests neatly on his shoulder.

“It never gets any easier,” she mutters, “but I’m gonna make sure you’re safe from here on out, I promise.”

And Peter doesn’t really know what to say to that, but it doesn’t matter anyway because he can’t speak. If he does, he’s gonna start crying, so he just holds her back and tries to even out his breathing.

“Okay,” he whispers eventually. “Thank you, Nattie.”

—

It’s four in the morning when his kid finally shows up at the hospital.

He’s not dead and surprisingly enough he’s not alone. Nat is trailing behind him, looking grim and exhausted.

But Peter… Peter looks so much worse.

And Tony’s not about to make it any better.

He stands unsteadily. Pepper reaches out to support him but he waves her off. “Kid—”

“Is she okay? Is she in surgery or…”

And then he gets it. It’s the way it always happens in the movies, a cresting realisation, a dawning horror. Peter just goes still. “Tony,” he whispers, “don’t tell me… please don’t tell me…”

Tony reaches out. “Pete, I’m so sorry. She held on for as long as she could but she suffered a stroke—”

Peter collapses into a chair. His eyes are wide, full of unshed tears. His hand covers his mouth.

Nat looks stricken. “Fuck,” she hisses, sinking down into the chair next to Peter’s.

Tony perches on the coffee table in front of his kid and reaches out to hold his free hand. “Pete?”

“I just… I just need a minute.”

Tony nods. He’ll wait.

As long as it takes, he’ll be here.

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

OMG I love your headcanons and writing. So so good. How about thoughts on Andrew recovering from say wisdom tooth removal or a appendectomy or something, but seeing as he's got a real high tolerance to drugs, the painkillers really aren't doing anything, and Neil (and or Kev, Aaron, Nicky, etc) gotta help take care of a grumpy in pain Andrew. Good feels good feels

So I answered a similar prompt earlier but, tbh, I didn’t like it very much so here’s a new one! Did it need to be Mandreil? No. Did I make it Mandreil anyway? Of course I did!

“Matt says that kisses help things heal faster,” Neil said. Andrew’s gaze snapped over to his junkie, curled up on the couch. The soft glow of the color shifting lights they’d strung on the Christmas tree illuminated the planes of his faces at random. None of their lot had been very fond of the holiday season but Nicky had insisted that they decorate the house anyway. Normally, the first word out of Andrew’s mouth would have been ‘no’ but, with Aaron’s trial only two months away, he’d thought it best to let Nicky distract himself with whatever nonsense he chose to so long as he wasn’t forced to participate. 

A lot of that nonsense had ended up involving Matt. When the team broke for the holidays, Andrew hadn’t expected to drive his lot back to Columbia only to find the familiar red truck parked in their driveway. Nicky had gone behind his back to invite Matt over for the first week of break. 

“He’s just helping with decorations,” Nicky insisted. Something you never do. Nicky hadn’t said that but Andrew had heard it loud and clear. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he’d tried not to stomp his way up the stairs. To listen to Nicky tell it, Andrew had spent the whole week being the World’s Grumpiest Grinch. That was wholly untrue. Andrew had just been his usual silent self, steadfastly refusing to take part in their bullshit. Well… most of their bullshit. More than once, Neil had managed to coax Andrew out into the kitchen to help Matt bake. Despite it being all his idea, Neil rarely helped. He’d sat there, perched on the counter as Matt and Andrew had baked. Together they’d baked beautiful sugar cookies, several fig puddings, and a gingerbread exy court complete with sugar plexiglass and the Foxes set up for a scrimmage (they’d baked a gingerbread Wymack but Andrew had hidden it for he didn’t have the heart to let his monstrous family eat him). 

Matt had left three days ago and Andrew had expected peace to return to his home but his family seemed to have other plans. All of them kept bemoaning his departure. He’d expected that kind of behavior from Nicky but Kevin was a surprise. As it turned out, Matt was a bit of a history buff. He was probably the only person in the world who capable of maintaining a conversation with Kevin about something other than Exy for over an hour. Aaron seemed to miss Matt too, evidenced by the way he kept lingering by the couch every morning as though the man might suddenly appear. 

Honestly, Andrew wasn’t 100% sure himself why he didn’t like having Matt around. Boyd had long since proved that he wasn’t a threat. Sure he was 6ft of pure muscle. He was as strong as a bull and hung like one too. In fact, he was probably strong enough that he could simply pick Andrew right up off the ground and… Andrew’s brain stalled as he momentarily lost his train of thought. Cursed with an eidetic memory, Andrew had never forgotten a single thing in his life. The fact that Matt had been capable of temporarily derailing him in such a manner was a concern. Setting those thoughts aside for the time being, Andrew made a mental note to examine them later. 

“So...can I kiss you?” Neil asked, drawing Andrew back to the conversation at hand. Sliding off the windowsill, Andrew wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. It trailed behind him anyway but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Neil unfurled and stretched himself across the couch, leaving space for Andrew between his legs. With more care than he usually allowed himself to show, Andrew climbed in. “You still haven’t given me an answer,” Neil prompted. 

Andrew had tried to speak not long after he’d woken in the dentist’s office only for blood to flood out of his mouth. Over the last two or three hours, he’d soaked through several lengths of gauze. Not wanting to disturb the freshly replaced cotton, Andrew gave him a short nod that Neil accepted. A little smile lit up his face brighter than all the bulbs in the room combined. Something in Andrew’s chest tightened as his stomach somersaulted. Stuffing all that down, he promised himself to evaluate that later too. 

Andrew reached out with one hand to cup the back of Neil’s neck and drew him close. Even after being together for nearly a year now, Neil was careful to leave space between their bodies. Andrew guided Neil forward until their foreheads were pressed together. Time seemed to slow as Neil’s parted lips ghosted a breath over Andrew’s. When Neil rubbed his nose against Andrew’s, all that breath evaporated from his lungs. Despite the jagged edges of the scarred skin stretched taut over his muscles, Neil Josten was impossibly soft and there was nothing Andrew wanted more than to sink into his arms. The very thought of being held by Neil made Andrew���s feel as though his whole head was filled with cotton.  

It was a strange desire that he’d spent countless hours picking apart both on his own and with Bee. She seemed quite pleased to hear that he’d begun to desire non-sexual physical contact. Now seemed as good a time as any to explore it. Trailing his hand down Neil’s arm, he caught hold of it by the elbow and tugged at it in silent question. As always, Neil went willingly pliant, allowing himself to be maneuvered however Andrew wanted him. 

“Are you sure this is alright?” Neil asked once Andrew had settled one of his arms around his waist. Andrew nodded. It wasn’t as sharp. He was far too distracted by the warm weight that had wrapped around him. Hugs weren’t something Andrew had ever really seen the appeal in but, nestled up against Neil, he finally understood. Distantly, he was aware of Neil’s fingers lightly tracing the shell of his ear. Feather light kisses were being planted across his face, starting at his temple and trailing down, down, down. 

Pain shot through Andrew as Neil brushed against his jaw. Shoving away with a muffled curse, he heard Neil doing the same. Surprise and anger flitted across Neil’s face, quickly replaced by alarm as he realized what had happened. Abandoning his blanket, Andrew made for the stairs. 

“I totally forgot,” Neil called as he followed him up. Flicking on the bathroom light, Andrew pulled the gauze out of his mouth. Blood oozed out. Neil stepped in a moment later, his eyes widening at the sight of the blood. “Was that because I-”

“No,” Andrew said. “It’s just not healing fast enough.” Concern washed over Neil’s face. It suddenly occurred to Andrew that maybe the fuzziness in his head was on account of blood loss. He doubted it but it was an easier thought to stomach than the notion that his cravings for Neil were intensifying. Who’s the junkie now? A voice in his head teased. Andrew promptly told it to go fuck itself onto a glass-shard covered pole. 

Rinsing out his mouth with warm water, he stuffed more cotton into his mouth. It hurt like all hell but there probably weren’t enough painkillers in the world to make him feel any better. Then again, even if there were, he wouldn’t take them. He took no pleasure in buzzing a thousand miles above the ground. Never in a million years would Andrew voluntarily subject himself to medication again. 

He left Neil to brush his teeth and headed to their room. By the time he’d changed and crawled into bed, Neil had returned. Andrew watched the muscles on Neil’s back flex and ripple as he pulled on a new shirt. 

“Scoot over,” Neil mumbled, crawling into bed. Andrew moved a fraction of an inch. “Asshole,” Neil said with a laugh and half-hearted shove. Laying himself down to face the door, Andrew was confronted by the fact that it would be impossible to do so without pressing his aching jaw into the pillow. His heartbeat sped up, fear welling up in him. “Drew?” Neil asked. “What’s wrong?” Andrew didn’t answer. He was just going to have to deal with it. The second his head touched the pillow, pain flared up and he jolted upright again. Understanding dawned on Neil’s face. “Yes or no?” he asked. Andrew narrowed his eyes at Neil, not knowing what he had planned. Then again, Neil often didn’t know what Andrew planned to have him do. That never stopped him from saying yes. 

It was always a leap of faith. It was time Andrew took one of his own. He nodded. Neil ordered him to turn over, so that he faced away from the door. Moments later, Andrew felt the warm press of a back on his own. 

“Sometimes, when the beds weren’t pushed up against the wall, Mom would make us sleep like this,” Neil explained. “It was so that we could watch all points of entry. It was also a reminder that we had each other’s backs. I know this isn’t going to be easy but, I’m here, Andrew. I gave you my back last year. Now, let me have yours.” Andrew turned his head only to find Neil doing the same. Reaching a hand out, Andrew caught Neil’s. He ghosted the knuckles against his lips in the closest thing to a kiss as he could manage. A smile broke out across Neil’s face. 

“Thank you.” It came out muffled and garbled by the cotton but Andrew knew Neil heard him. He knew he understood that it meant so much more. Letting his eyes fall closed, Andrew wished he could tell Neil all the things he deserved to hear but there were so many things other than the cotton in his mouth stopping him. One day, maybe his words would flow as freely as the blood in his mouth.

[toothpastecanyon]

Just Watch Me, Chapter 1

Someone is breaking into New Angeles' museums. Nobody knows where she came from. Nobody knows who she is. But they know the headlines she makes, and maybe, that's enough.

This is for the 2020 annual TAUthon! A big thanks to @feferipeixes​ for betaing this story!

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

The New Angeles Museum of Art. With its glass walls and curved steel roof striking a unique figure amongst its more conventional neighbours, it looked something like an art installation itself. Tonight, a misty fog had settled between the city blocks, and the bright lights within shone out with a ghostly glow; inside, there were still a smattering of guests wandering around the exhibits.

    The exhibits. A figure in a longsleeved shirt lingered on the street corner, holding a cigarette with trembling fingers and eyeing the jewelry kept under glass and guard. One of the guards caught her watching; she smiled at him, and he gave a quick smile back before he looked away.

    Once his eyes were elsewhere, the figure took a drag of the cigarette, and walked a little further away from the windows. She leant against a steel pillar, watching people pass by. This street wasn’t too crowded, especially this late at night, and it ebbed and flowed. Sometimes, there were gaps. Brief periods of time where no one was walking past, no one was there but the figure.

…

That gap was too brief.

That one, too.

…

A slight gap, but there was a big crowd on the other side.

The cigarette burned slowly, patiently. The figure waited, making sure to keep a smile on their face in case they caught anyone else’s eye.

…

This one, coming up. A couple college students passed by the figure, and after that… nothing. No one. No witnesses. Just the fog, and the figure, and the looming museum roof far above.

She pulled herself up from the wall, and extinguished the last of her cigarette. It sat on her palm for a moment; she stared at it, and suddenly it started compacting, crushing itself up into a tiny ashen pellet that could fit on a fingernail. She pocketed it, and then gave a grin. Cracked her knuckles. Glanced one last time down the streets, and then-

And then she jerked her arms up and launched herself into the sky. She was far above the street, far above the museum, and she started falling, falling faster, falling faster, headed right for the roof-

Stop.

    She held her hands out, and her feet stopped inches from the steel. She relaxed, and stepped down onto it without making a sound. Quickly, she stripped; underneath her shirt and jeans was a black wetsuit, and she unzipped the front to retrieve a small bag of tools she’d hidden against her stomach.

She crushed her old clothes down and stuffed them into that, and put on a pair of snorkeling goggles. Then she took a moment to check that everything was in there, located the skylight, and gave a grin.

Showtime.

She tiptoed over to the skylight, and looked down. It led into a white hallway - one that was closed to the public while they switched to a new exhibit, she knew. If she angled her head until it was almost touching the roof, she could make out a staff door at the end of the hall, and the black base of a camera on the roof.

The figure dug into her bag, drew out a thin metal wire, bent the end, and then wiggled it into the edge of the frame. It wasn’t easy; the wire was flimsy, and the tremor in her hands didn’t help, but she punched through and started running it along the edge, holding her hand out and testing it, until-

Pop.  The window was shoved down by the force of her magic, and it swung right into the camera and collided with the sound of shattering glass. The broken frame clattered against the floor, and quick as lightning the figure launched herself down the hallway. She didn’t land so smoothly this time, but she picked herself up and positioned herself behind the staff door. She grinned at the mess, at the scratched-out wards on the ceiling beside the skylight. Someone was bound to come running.

She didn’t have to wait long. Two guards burst through the staff door, and she slipped in behind them. Suddenly, the museum looked a whole lot more office-like, with grey carpet and cream walls. There was a camera facing right at her; she scuffed the wards laid down by the baseboard, and looked around in confusion when the two guards ran back in and pointed tasers at her.

“Stop right there!”

“Whoa…” She said, in a sort of dazed voice. “This ain’t the beach.”

“Put your hands up!”

“You know NLA beach, right? Where you can jump right off into the ocean?”

“NLA- what?” The guard cocked his head. “There’s no beach on-”

He aimed and shot the camera. It went off with a  bang;  sparks exploded everywhere, and the other guard jumped back

“Whoa- what the  fuck,  Jared!”

He looked stunned. “I didn’t do that!”

The figure took off screaming.

“Hey! Wait!”

She ran around the corner, and took the keycard she’d ripped from his belt. Levitating it out in front of her, she swiped it, and flung herself into the security office.

“Whoa!” Three guards jumped up at the sight of her; one moved to stop her but she collided with him and tumbled down on the far end of the office. “What’s going on?! What are you doing in here?”

“Ow…” She scooted up against the wall. “My leg hurts.”

“...Take her into custody. We need to find out what happened here.” The guard rubbed his head. “And phone Matt, we need to... need to report… need to…”

The guard trailed off, stumbled, and one by one they all collapsed on the floor, completely unconscious. The figure rose with a grin, wiping warding ink off their palms.

“Alright!” She waved a hand, and they all gently floated over to the corner. “Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, guys. I’ll be done in just a second.”

There was a banging against the door as she took a seat in front of the security system; she held it closed with a thought. The camera screens were all laid out before her, jewels in plain view, and she gave a wide grin.

“Okay, PA system… where are you… oh, bingo!” She levitated the mic up to her face. “Hello, hello, testing one two three!”

The guests all seemed to look up at the noise. She chuckled.

“Seems to be working. Hi, guys! Just here to make an announcement, that, uh, if you wanna take one last look at tonight’s beautiful exhibits, you got about fifteen more seconds before I’m taking the lot!” She ran a finger over a panel of switches. “Or, uh, however long it takes me to find the controls - just enjoy yourselves, alright? This is a chill robbery. We’re chill.”

The guests were screaming and piling through the exit. She sniffed.

“Well, I’m chill, anyway. Aha!” She found the warding breakers, flicked them all off, and sat back. “Got you! Alright, now it’s time for the real show!”

She focused hard on the video feeds. The display boxes seemed to tremble, and a high-pitched whine started up before-  bang!  Glass exploded into confetti shards all over the main floor, and about twenty alarms went off at once. She raised a hand, and all the jewelry began to rise into the air.

With a flick of the wrist, they smashed through a side window - off camera. She frowned and kept her hand out, concentrating, concentrating. She could hear police sirens in the distance, and louder and louder bangs coming from the office door; it was time to go.

She rose slowly, and walked towards the side wall. She put her free hand on it, and pushed; a person-sized section of brick gave way with minimal effort, and she poked her head outside. The jewels - they were in sight again, a disorganised hovering cloud that clumped into a neater arrangement as soon as she laid eyes on them. She opened her bag, and little more than a flick of the wrist deposited them inside. This haul was heavy; she lost her balance, and quickly launched herself onto the next building over so she didn’t topple into the alleyway.

There, she regained her footing, and saw the flashing lights of police cars pulling up to the front. She jumped back onto the museum’s roof, and started hopping across the rooftops that way, launching herself from building to building until she had to stop and take a breather.

The museum was reasonably far away now. She opened her bag, and grinned at the glint of gold before she brought out her old clothes. She hid the bag under her wetsuit again, then dressed back into her shirt and jeans and dropped down into an alleyway. People paid her no mind as she slipped back into the crowds; if anyone saw her smile as she checked her phone, they thought nothing of it.

The first news reports were coming in.

‘BREAKING NEWS: Reports of Break-in at NLA Transcendence History Museum, Shattered Glass’

‘Reported Explosion at NLA History Museum’

‘This Just In: Break-in at NLA Transcendence History Museum, Shattered Glass, Police Responding’

Okay, they weren’t very exciting yet. She’d give it a-

Her vision started pulsating. Suddenly everything was spinning. She stopped and fumbled with her phone until she had it pressed against her chest, and stood there swaying for a moment as everything was blinding and blurry, as pins and needles crept up  her legs and there was a lightness in her head like she was going to faint, going to faint right now, going to…

...slowly, slowly,  it subsided, leaving a dull, foggy ache in her mind. She felt her heart rate settle down, and rolled her eyes.

“We’re gonna be like this right now, huh.” She leaned against a building and pawed her phone open. “Fine. Guess I’ll call a taxi.”

A police car barrelled past her as she googled the number. That brought a smile back to her face, and as the taxi took her down darker streets and older buildings, she kept an eye on the news.

Disaster Strikes the Art World: Another Private Collection Reported Stolen in Brazen Heist, Police Release Preliminary Sketch of Suspect

She checked, and burst out laughing. It looked… a little rough, okay? Especially around the nose and eyes; it looked nothing like her there.

“Something funny, ma’am?”

That came from the taxi driver. She looked up sharply.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, haha. Just texting my mom.”

“Oh, nice.”

“Yeah.” Quickly she cleared her throat. “Yeah, she’s, uh, funny… So anyway my stop’s coming up, right? Yeah, it’s right over here!”

“Looks like it is.”

“Alright, sweet!” She took out a guard’s wallet and tipped him a twenty. “You have a great night, man.”

Then she stepped off, onto cracked pavements beneath flickering streetlamps. The bag under her wetsuit weighed her down as she crossed a patchy lawn, and climbed slowly up the steps of her apartment. Her room was three floors up; she reached it, snorted at the keyhole, and unlocked it with her mind.

It was a small place that she stepped into. The lights flicked on, revealing a sofa and TV crammed onto a small patch of carpet and takeout boxes strewn across her oven.

They also revealed a yellow puddle right in front of the door, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Ugh, seriously? Fluffy, come here now!’

There was no response.

“Mr Fluffington, I know it was you!” She shut the door and started looking under tables. “What, you think  I  peed on the floor? I don’t think so, buster! Get your butt out here!”

There came a hissing sound from the oven. She glanced over, and dashed over when smoke started puffing out of it.

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna set off the smoke alarm!” She opened the oven door and started waving the smoke away. “Now, what do you have to say for yourself? Huh?”

There, curled up on the metal rack, was a baby purple dragon. Fluffy was about the size of a housecat, with soft wings that barely moved when it puffed itself up, and sharp, needle-like teeth. She saw him bare them at her, and snorted as she scooped him into her arms.

“I missed you too, you grump.” Fluffy settled against her as she walked him over to the puddle. “Now, what is this? Huh?”

All she got was a low rumble.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Hm… maybe I need to take you out more?” She felt him shift, and let him scamper out of her arms. “I’ll take that as a yes. Ugh, I wish you’d fit in a dog costume.”

Fluffy padded through the bedroom door, and she rubbed her shoulder. Yeah, she wanted to take all this stuff off already… just one thing she had to do before that. The kitchen cupboards opened, and she levitated a paper towel and some cleaner into her hands.

She dealt with the puddle, took her shirt off, and struggled with the wetsuit’s zipper as she headed into the bedroom. At first glance, the mess looked just as unremarkable as the kitchen’s; there were piles of dirty clothes strewn everywhere, and bedsheets left on the floor.

But here, there were glints. Here, there were paintings on every wall, strangely large paintings with strangely elaborate frames. Here, a dragon was picking old socks off of a nest of golden necklaces; he perked up as she pulled her bag out of her wetsuit.

“You hear something, Fluffy?” The bag jangled when she shook it. “Yeah, that’s right. Sit!”

Fluffy barrelled over to paw at her legs.

‘No, sit. Sit? Si- ugh, you’re lucky you’re cute.” She drew out a chain with a thick golden pendant; there was writing on the front she couldn’t read. “Wow, this stuff… is ugly. Heh, no wonder they put it in a museum, right? Couldn’t find anyone who’d want to wear it!”

Fluffy continued scratching at her, oblivious to her very clever zinger. She rolled her eyes, and dumped the lot onto him.

“Go nuts, buddy.”

He let out an excited puff of smoke as ten or so golden chains rained down on her. Immediately he started dragging them towards his little nest, and she snorted.

“Hope that’s comfy.” She levitated a laptop into her hands and flopped onto her bed, grunted as the springs squeaked. “Probably comfier than my mine, eh?”

She laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. She could hear some muffled shrieks coming from it; probably the kids who lived upstairs. Her legs tingled a little bit, and she moved them to get rid of the pins and needles.

It was… nice, here. It was quiet enough. She looked over at Fluffy, rumbling contentedly as he arranged his nest, and managed a smile.

Today was a good day. It was.

She knew just what would make it even better.

With a flick of her wrist, she opened her laptop and turned it on. It was a tough old thing, with a thick screen and missing keys, and she tapped the side as it booted. It eventually did, loading up to a browser stuffed with tabs, and she opened one more, typed in ‘museum’, and hit enter.

A grin spread across her face as the news stories loaded. Jackpot. She clicked the first one.

Transcendence History Museum Theft Likely Connected to Recent String of Museum Robberies

It’s not an unfamiliar sight to NLA police at the Transcendence History Museum tonight. Witnesses describe a sudden, chaotic break-in at around 8:37PM when a woman, said to be in scuba gear, reportedly smashed through the building’s skylight and forced her way into the security office before setting off an explosion in the main lobby. In the ensuing panic, she made off with a number of artifacts; police are still determining what exactly was taken, but it is known that a private collection of ceremonial Alcorian jewelry was on display. The price of the collection as a whole is estimated at-

“Half a million dollars!” She glanced over at Fluffy. “You hear that? I spoil you!”

He had already fallen asleep. With a chuckle, she kept reading.

It’s a bizarre sequence of events, but not a unique one this past year to the Winged City. Just three weeks ago, a smaller collection went missing when a person dressed in a Halloween pirate costume and identifying themselves as ‘Nunya Beeswax’, locked staff out of the gallery and proceeded to try on the exhibits in front of security cameras until police arrived.

She started giggling. That was a good one.

There are many more burglaries that may read off as humourous, but it is important to remember here: these are burglaries. Real people are being harmed. Just tonight, owner of the stolen collection and CEO of FloatBus Mitchell Jark issued a furious statement to...

She bookmarked the story and clicked off, still chuckling about that pirate costume. Man, she had to do something like that again… what else were they saying about her?

In a little bedroom filled with riches, Matilda Ransen spent the night admiring her glittering headlines. She heard Fluffy’s deep rumble, and smiled to herself - he must be comfy.

He was, in fact, rather comfortable. The dragon curled tightly around one of the new pendants, which had become warm to the touch.

Its inscription, and the symbol of the Dreamer’s Star etched on the back, now glowed a deep, wrathful red.

[teacherunicorn]

Rewrite

Chapter Six

dying

The snowy forest was dense, but felt empty, like walking through a graveyard. You could tell something was waiting to jump out and attack you. hurt trying to survive

Rook had had Shadow in her life for just over six years now. Appearing at what was perhaps her lowest low, the entity had been harsh with her at first, it's words faint and migraine inducing.

The one thing that had come through clearly was the lullaby it sang when Rook was crying herself to sleep. The song was clearly old -- it wasn't your standard nursery rhyme and no one she'd mentioned the lyrics to had known what she was talking about. But her strange follower knew them by heart; never once missing a step or loosing the melody.

Perhaps it was her dependence on that song that allowed other things to come in clearly, not that they were as helpful. It was mostly gruesome threats to people she got angry at and a desire to take supplies from others at food banks and homeless shelters.

While tempting at times, such actions were simply not who Rook was. She continually frustrated Shadow with her goodwill and giving nature, and arguing with them led to further migraines.

The two weren't....friends, not really. They just happened to be stuck with each other -- literally. It didn't matter if Rook knew she could trust Shadow's instincts when it came to dangerous situations, or if Shadow's malice seemed to ebb away anytime they sang their lullaby to a crying Rook.

It wasn't until that good karma came back around; a woman she had shared her food with and given up her bunk at the homeless shelter for supplying her with pain medicine and teaching her how pads worked; as she had been unfortunate enough to experience puberty on her own, that Shadow finally gave pause.

"Sometimes kindness is enough." She'd told the spirit.

This gave way to a new form of communication between the two; an open one that involved proper conversation instead of trading insults. Shadow seemed very good at being aware of their -- and by extension Rook's -- surroundings at all times. They'd offer tips, warn of danger, and catch details that would normally go unnoticed.

Rook still wouldn't say the two were friends....part of her was still convinced that Shadow was just some trauma induced hallucination.

Until today at least.

"So lemme see if I've got this right." She said, piling up the driest twigs she could find for a fire. "You're an actual, proper ghost. You're dead."

More or less, yeah.

"Then how come you keep following me around?"

I'm stuck in limbo unless I find a soul to match to....a cracked one.

Rook paused. "So when...." a forced swallow past the lump in her throat. "when he died, you're saying it cracked my soul?"

Yeah.

She huffed. "Can't say I'm surprised. Okay, you're here, I'm here, now what?"

Well.... The spirit sighed. You already know by now that I'm not an optimistic person. But when I was alive I was....less pessimistic. I had hope for something; this place.

"This place?" Rook echoed in surprise.

Yeah. It was less broken in my time, but yeah.

"....What happened?"

Thought I could be the hero. The barrier keeps the monsters in, they're trapped. I thought I could be their angel. the air seemed to scoff Course that was before being down here got me killed.

"What does that have to do with me?"

Shadow had no physical form, and therefore no face, but somehow Rook could still feel the puppy dog stare being aimed at her.

How far do you think your kindness can really go?

*****

Rook didn't bother trying to track down the skeleton brothers. Snowdin was clearly not the sort of place to just go wandering around, and she had no doubt one or both of them would eventually find her.

So, gathering the driest twigs she could find, she sparked a small fire and went about making herself something to eat.

Filling her collapsible pot with snow, she set it over the flame to boil, making sure to keep the smoke as small as possible so as not to alert anything unsavory.

Crossing her legs as she sat down, she held her hands out to warm them. Pausing a moment, she pulled her left one back.

The cut she had received from the strange glowing artifact in the ruins hadn't been deep by any means, but it really ought to have left at least a scratch. But looking at her palm now Rook couldn't even tell she'd been injured.

Sighing to herself, she dug into her backpack for some oatmeal, taking out the teal colored shard as she did. She studied it as her food cooked. It didn't seem all that peculiar; it wasn't even glowing any more. It was just a stupid shard of glass.

So why had she felt so drawn to it in the ruins?

"HUMAN!" the sudden sound jolted Rook from her thoughts. She looked up to see the taller of the skeleton brothers standing a few paces away from her. (measured in his giant steps anyways) "SO SANS WAS TELLING THE TRUTH. DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD ESCAPE ME?"

"No, I was pretty sure you or your brother would turn up." She shrugged. "You hungry? Oatmeal should be ready by now."

The bravado of the skeleton seemed to seep away. "....Food?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's just oatmeal -- I've figured out a lot of ways to mix it up over the years though!" pulling her backpack onto her lap Rook began to dig through her stash. "I've got cinnamon, ketchup, honey...."

For as loud as he had once been, the tall skeleton's voice seemed quiet now, despite it being a normal speaking volume as he inched closer to her. "There Was A Time When I Enjoyed Oatmeal That Hatched Creatures In It."

Rook blinked and stared at him a moment before looking back to her bag. Pushing a few things this way and that, she produced a small box with a cartoon dinosaur on it.

"These?" She questioned, holding them out to him.

Perhaps she imagined it, but at that moment Rook could've sworn that the small pecks of light in his sunken eye sockets turned into miniature stars. He crossed the space between them in three large strides, but stopped short of taking the box from her hand.

He looked between her and the box a moment, prompting Rook to push it closer to his outstretched hand.

"Go ahead, it's all yours."

He finally took it from her like she was handing him the holy grail. "...Why?"

"Why not?" Rook shrugged and went back to her own oatmeal. "If people didn't share with me, I wouldn't be alive." She looked up at the tall skeleton. "My name's Rook, by the way. You're Papyrus right?"

The sound of his name seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in. "YES! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I HAVE DEVISED SEVERAL PUZZLES AND TRAPS TO CAPTURE YOU HUMAN ROOK!"

Rook smiled at him. "I like puzzles, that sounds fun."

*****

There was something laughably insane about watching the two skeleton brothers interact. They explained the puzzle well enough, but then got sidetracked as they started arguing about frisbees.

In a strange way, it comforted Rook to observe the classic siblings dynamic.

Looking away from the still arguing pair, she turned her eyes to the orb she'd been given. It looked like a regular nick-nack, but supposedly it would guide her through the skeleton brother's first puzzle.

Watch yourself. Shadow muttered in her ear. I don't like this.

For the record, neither did she. The expanse of snow between her and the monsters looked far too innocent and unassuming.

Hang on. Was that...?

Something Rook had taken notice of in this strange underground forest was that the snow didn't shine. Not that there was any sunlight to reflect off of the frozen crystals, but whatever was lighting this place didn't do it either. The slush was matte and blank, like dust rather than water.

But was there? There was! Just about two feet in front of her something was sparkling under the snow. Only noticable if you had been looking for it, and clearly not meant to be there.

The sparkling looked odd, and not just because it was out of place. She wondered....

SNAP!

Rook gasped and jumped backwards, falling flat on her butt as her feet slipped from under her. Tossing the orb in the sparkle's direction had indeed yield result; a huge bear trap had popped out from the snow and clamped shut. It's razor teeth were rusty, but certainly effective enough to chop her in half.

The noise had caught the skeleton's attention, both turning to stare at her in shock.

"WOWIE!" Papyrus finally broke the silence. "SHE SOLVED THAT PUZZLE ON THE FIRST TRY! FINALLY, A HUMAN WORTHY OF BEONF MY PRISONER!"

"Wait...how did she know...."

"GASP!" the taller skeleton said, putting his gloved hands on his cheeks. Cheekbones? "ONLY FOUR PUZZLES LEFT! AND STILL WITH THREE FREEBIES! HURRY SANS! WE MUST PREPARE THR NEXT CHALLENGE!" Papyrus took off, dragging his brother behind him by the hood of his jacket.

Rook laughed in spite of everything. Take away the fear for her life, and that was kinda cool.

How did you do that?

"By getting extremely lucky." Rook muttered, rubbing at her neck subconsciously. Kindness or no, Papyrus hadn't seen it to make his 'puzzles' any less deadly.

Not that she blamed him, logically. One act of kindness certainly didn't make up for whatever these two had been through. Statistics didn't follow an outlier after all.

Sha had been like that once, but it hadn't stopped the people she met from being kind to her.

Least she could do was pay it forward while she tried to stay alive.

[jemej3m]

radio silence (chapter 2: andrew and aaron)

andrew starts taking his medication and aaron hates it just as much as his brother does, especially seeing as the pills wont even let him say it 

(heavy tw for mentions of matricide, canon-typical violence, sexual assault (thanks giving, andrew’s perspective), medication and drake’s murder) 

*

Andrew supposed he’d deserved it when Aaron went silent on him after Tilda died and Andrew forcefully shut Aaron into the bathroom of their new place to get clean, but it was still never silent.

There was always someone there at the other end of the line. Someone breathing down the phone, waiting to hear whatever you said. It was comforting only because it was all Andrew had ever known, unable to fathom what it was like to be completely alone.

When Andrew had been forced onto his medication after his perhaps over-enthusiastic response to Nicky being pushed around by a bunch of assholes outside Eden’s, a new kind of buzzing filled his head. 

Static. Grainy, grainy static. An external pressure, squeezing around his temples like his head was stuck in the clouds, thousands of miles above normal altitude. He hated the way it felt but there was nothing he could do about it, the grin curling on his lips without consent.

The first time Aaron had spoken to him in months was in the quiet of a dark kitchen. Nicky was asleep in his room. Andrew was making hot cocoa and unable to sleep because he’d taken his dosage too late. He’d noticed Aaron lingering by the kitchen’s entrance and refused to say anything, letting the false cheer dangle off the tip of his spoon as he watched droplets of hot cocoa slip off the aluminium surface, back into his mug. It’d long gone cold.

“I can’t hear you,” Aaron said, finally finding his spine to talk to his loony twin. “I can’t—reach out to you. It’s silent.”

“Well,” Andrew drawled, tempted to laugh. “Isn’t that a shame?”

“I hate it,” Aaron hissed, contradictory in every way. “We’ve never—we’ve never been apart before. I hate it. Can’t we—can’t you appeal?”

“Oh, Aaron,” Andrew lamented, hand over his heart. His brother’s vulnerabilities were cute, but there was no way Andrew would share his own. Not out loud. “You should go cry to someone who’s capable of caring. Because that person is definitely not me.” He grinned, arching an eyebrow.

“This isn’t you,” Aaron said, resolutely. As he paced back into the hallway, he repeated himself. “This isn’t you.”

Andrew simply laughed.

*

“On one condition,” Andrew said, pointing at Wymack and almost poking the old man in the chest. “My brother and cousin come on the team, too. And I get to come off my meds for games.”

Aaron startled. It was the first time Andrew had ever hinted that he, too, hated the loneliness.

*

When Kevin stumbled into Wymack’s apartment with a shattered hand, Andrew had laughed, pointing at him with a bottle of booze in his hand.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” He crowed. Kevin glared and did not laugh.

Pity. Aaron probably would’ve appreciated that.

*

Andrew, Aaron had whispered, sickeningly relieved as the curtain between them parted, their minds severed no more.

It would only be for another half hour or so, before Andrew had to take his dose at half time. He looked at his brother, watching the way relief wormed down Aaron’s spine and had him grip his racket harder.

It was their first game on the line. Most of the team hated Andrew and his merry band of monsters, of which had grown from three to four when Kevin promised Andrew that he would find him something to live for after his medicated euphoria eventually wore off. It was a lousy promise at best: Andrew had no disillusions about finding satisfaction in his life, and no desire to lie to himself either. Kevin’s miserable obsession with Exy couldn’t fill the gaping wound that’d been carved into Andrew’s chest the minute that Tilda left him in the plastic bucket of baby rejects.

The connection with Aaron strengthened as the withdrawal kicked up, sped up by the gruelling game. The Foxes lost, because of course they did, and Andrew faked a laugh to convince everyone in the arena that he wasn’t deviating from his parole.

Until next game, Aaron said, as Andrew swallowed the pills. He was too physically wretched to stifle the weak nod. Kevin looked between them, eyes narrowed. He’d probably figure it out, just like Nicky had a long while ago, but neither of them would say anything. It was best to just pretend that the twins hated each other, just like everyone else assumed.

Andrew was comfortable in the shadows of those assumptions. The four of them settled into the strange routine, dodging Riko and his Ravens and spending nights under the haze of cracker dust and alcohol.

Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, he knew Aaron was counting down the days till Andrew could come off the medications.

He, admittedly, was too.

*

Andrew was suddenly glad that Aaron could not hear his loudest thoughts most of the time, when Neil Josten rocked up, a bundle of lies and a bigger bundle of threats.

He was brown haired and brown eyed and barely tall enough to fit all his too-intricate stories within, and yet there he was, able to tell the difference between him and Aaron immediately, running away from Columbia in a feverish demand for freedom, stood in Wymack’s living room with half-truths tolerable enough for Andrew to swallow.

If Aaron could hear the way Andrew’s mind twisted and turned over Neil Fucking Josten, he’d be mighty suspicious.

Worse was when Neil began asking. And Andrew let himself answer. Worse was the way Neil practised honesty enough to keep Andrew intrigued but continually lied like an animal licking a wound it should just leave alone.

Thanksgiving came and went.

The real nightmare was the weekend after.

Andrew had never grown used to the static, not in the four years he’d been medicated, especially not when he let his shield against the world drop occasionally, for games or for nights at Eden’s. It was enough that neither him, nor Aaron, really got used to the absence. The absess.

He walked up the stairs to where Luther had promised him liquor, opening the door to Nicky’s old bedroom. It was dark, curtains drawn and the rust on the lock suspiciously etched, like it’d been tested recently. If Andrew was capable of conjuring warning bells through the cloud that surrounded him, he’d be hearing them ringing like they did in a bad man’s chapel on a Sunday morning.

One moment, he was staring a fully-fledged nightmare, dead between the eyes. The next his bottle of Blue came careening through the air, and the trickle of liquid down Andrew’s scalp was a strange concoction of hot blood and iced spirits, glass shards just to make it interesting.

It was like a waltz. One, two, three. One, two, three. One: Hand around Andrew’s neck. Two: Whispered words in his ear. Three: Seconds Andrew had to contemplate why him, like he was thirteen again. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two—

“Andrew,” Aaron snarled, more terrified for Andrew than he was of himself. He’d always known exactly who Drake was, who the Spears were: He’d almost been there. He’d certainly heard every one of Andrew’s broken cadences, desperately searching for an out.

And yet there he stood, bloodied, with Neil’s racket in his hands and blood across his face. Andrew couldn't hear himself, not when he laughed, not when he demanded if the blood was Aaron’s, not when Luther appeared in the doorway clutching the silver cross that dangled across his throat.

Remember? Andrew laughed. Cackled. Remember when you insisted it was just a misunderstanding?

“He told you, and you still brought him here?” Aaron said, cold, furious. They were closer and more intricately woven than anyone knew, Andrew clutching onto Aaron’s bloodied shirt as Neil covered him up with a sheet, laughter still wracking his body like a bloody cough. “Get out. Get out!”

Wasn’t it just niche, the way everything worked out. Aaron was lugged off in police custody whilst Andrew was strapped to a stretcher, paramedics shining light into his eyes. He was still buzzing too high off the ground to reach out to Aaron and see if he was alright, because even if Andrew cared about nothing, Aaron’s survival was still imperative. He’d fought so long for it, after all.

Neil offered himself up as Kevin’s leash, like he wasn’t fulfilling that role already. He shoved Andrew’s hand under his shirt and gave him his true name and Andrew was spinning. He was dancing so close to the edge. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so fucking terrified of losing control all over again.

“You’re not going to say goodbye to Aaron?” Abby asked, when Betsy had filched him from the comfort of his room to take him to Easthaven.

“Can’t say goodbye if you never said hello in the first place,” Andrew said, cheerfully as he skipped his way to the front door. None of them would truly understand the significance of that statement, that Andrew and Aaron had never said hello, nor goodbye. There was no need if they never left you alone.

He ignored the way Neil watched him as he left, ignored the idle chatter Betsy filled the car with, ignored the introduction of his psychiatric team.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have taken more care. It was too late now.

*

Andrew, Aaron breathed, when the fogginess lifted perhaps two weeks later. He had no way of telling, really. Andrew had his head in a bucket, the smooth plastic his constant view. Aaron’s voice was—admittedly—a comfort. Andrew, are you alright?  

You still behind bars? Andrew asked, craning his neck as he settled back into his stiff, unforgiving bed and its cold, unyielding sheets.

Matt’s mom paid my bail. We’re heading up to New York for Christmas as thanks.

You’re not telling me something.

Aaron made a derisive noise. Andrew was always the more perceptive one. Neil knows.

How.

He figured it out. I don’t know how. He told me to tell you not to let Proust near you before he left yesterday.

Left where?

Uncle was in town apparently. Wouldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Liar, through and through.

Be careful, Andrew. I have a hunch that Neil’s got privy information. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, but it seemed valid.

Thanks for the input, Andrew thought, sourly. Aaron snorted. Now, fuck off.

I hated the silence, Aaron offered.

Andrew stared silently out of the metal grate that covered his window, the bleak clouds and wind-swept trees.

As a form of peace offering with the only person who’d always been there for him, he said: Me too.

*

I’ve met a girl. Promise me you won’t hurt her.

I won’t if she gives me no reason to.

Her name is Katelyn. She makes me happy. Scare her off when you get back and I will tell everyone that you waited for months after our 11th birthday for your letter to Hogwarts.

Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t kill you first.

*

Andrew walked out of his room and down the familiar corridors of his ward, beady eyes peering out at someone who was walking free. He was directed by Dr. Whoeverthefuck, clipboard under his arm and a haughty expression scrawled across his narrow features.

There was a bit of talking. Nicky called out his name, concern obvious and sickening and too much. Kevin was evaluating, Neil was curious and Aaron just looked at him blankly, like he always did. They didn’t need expressions or emotions or even spoken words to communicate. It was just enough to be. So when Andrew marched straight for the exit and threw his ward-stay clothes in the bin, Aaron wasn’t phased, following along closely behind.

Andrew held out the keys for Neil, who passed them over without a qualm. Good. He didn’t feel like arguing with Neil now, when he felt scraped out and broken down into tiny little fragments. Neil said nothing, his garishly blue eyes darting between Aaron and Andrew, perhaps a little too obviously for Neil’s liking. He had a bandage under his eye and bruises littering what little exposed skin Andrew could see, the red curls falling in tresses over his ears.

Why are you looking at him like that? Aaron muttered, climbing into the car. Andrew turned away from Neil sharply, clambering into the driver’s seat and slamming it behind him.

He kept the music loud enough to drown out Aaron’s curious prodding, refusing to look in the rear-view where Neil was sat, looking wistfully out of the window. Even Nicky was quiet, unsure of how to approach Andrew when he hadn’t really spoken to the man sober in four and a half years.

The drive was too fast. Aaron shuffled Nicky and Kevin inside the tower with little more than a brief you should take a nap, or at least have some coffee, before you face the others, like Andrew was still a prickly toddler.

Neil wasn’t as easily swayed. He reached under the driver’s seat to grab his stalker binder, bound in a plastic bag, before Andrew even had the chance to move out of the way. He couldn’t say he minded the proximity, even when the way Neil looked at him when Andrew accused him of breaking his promise made his heart skip.

“I hope Aaron warned you off Proust,” Neil murmured. “Riko said if I didn’t go, he would—“

His hand covered Neil’s mouth before he could let another treacherous word past his lips. Andrew fucking hated him. He fucking hated him.

Proust had entered his room in the early hours of an average morning, smiling beseechingly. Andrew refused to talk to him, instead threatening the nurse that came in after Proust’s session that if he ever caught Proust in his vicinity again, he would break the man’s neck.

The doctor was kept well away from Andrew after that.

“I don’t need your protection, or your condolences.” He snapped.

“No, I suppose not.” He echoed. “Have you and Aaron always been able to hear one another? I thought it was an urban myth.”

“Shut up.” Andrew said, voice more of a snarl than he intended it to be. Neil was making his control slip and he hadn’t even been back for a half hour yet. “I hate you.”

“I know.” Neil said, easily.

*

i know theres a lot of lacking scenes from canon but its not about andrew and neil srry lmao its twinyards week for a reason (andreil worms its way in anyway, but i tried my best)

stay tuned for tomorroww!!