#boldly going...to the edge of sanity

[curlygrant44]

Another year older.

I haven't seen much of Jim for a while...I guess that's my fault. He came to find me today, though, to give me something. I don't know where he got them, but the chocolates were nice. Bittersweet, heavy on the bitter.

He asked why I wasn't wearing my belt, and I told him I just didn't feel like dealing with the hassle today.

I don't think he believed me.

He didn't say anything else about it, but I'm afraid he'll bring it up again.

I'm afraid he can tell.

He knows my body better than anyone else. Maybe better than me. I've been avoiding him, craving sweets, and now my uniform is more snug and I've taken off the belt I've been wearing every day for nearly eight months. If he didn't at least suspect, I'd be surprised.

I know I should find Sunshine, and wish him a happy birthday, but the thought of seeing him right now brings tears to my eyes. I don't want him to know what I did. The risk I took, what happened because of it...

One of these days I'll work up the courage to find Jimmy.

If he won't do it, I guess my best bet is to ask Grant. Swansea might be willing, but telling him the truth about my past isn't something I want to do. He's my last resort, even if I'd trust him with anything else.

Funny, how Grant is the lesser evil, for this one thing alone. At the very least, I think he'd do it. He has the capacity to do unforgivable things, and he lacks the capacity to feel reasonable shame about it. Is it really so hard to believe he might want to kill someone with the same face he wears, just to see if he can do it? Just to see how it'll feel?

I worry sometimes about the universe he'll go back to one day. I feel sorry for them...but at least I can be comforted by knowing that James won't be there to be hurt by him anymore.

He'll have a happy life. One where he's cared for, and respected. I'll make sure of that.

Jim didn't kiss me today.

I think he's angry.

I wish I had kissed him. Just to make sure he knew that I still care. It's not about him. But if I tell him that, he won't believe me.

He's still taking his meds, as far as I know. He's more settled than he had been since everything changed...but I know that he still feels some urges. That some things are hard to let go of. When he looked at me today I thought he would

I thought that maybe it would be like things were before. I was bracing for it.

He just left instead.

It's hard not knowing what he's thinking. Even though he's calmer, it's almost more frightening now. Before I could at least tell how mad he was and when he was going to snap. Now I'm not sure, and sometimes it actually keeps me up at night wondering if he's going to steer us into an asteroid.

There's still nothing on the scans, but it doesn't stop me from fearing it anyway.

I don't think journaling like this actually helps me, but I have to talk to someone, and since there's no one I can confide in, this file will have to do for now.

I guess I should say it, because someone should. Happy 39th birthday to Captain Grant Edward Curly and Sally his unnamed and unborn child.

Maybe we'll both be buried among the stars before this is over.

I'm sorry.

[trendsnova]

Awakened by the Edge: A Mother’s Second Birth

The Moment It All Changed

"I don't want to die," I whispered, my words shaking as the hospital staff rolled me back into the operating room—again, that evening. "You're not going to," the nurse said, her voice firm, but the terror in her eyes told a different story. Reality split apart at that moment. There was blood, chaos, and a silence only trauma comprehends. By the time it was all over, I had lost so much blood that 26 transfusions were needed to maintain my life. Later, the doctors explained to me, I was fortunate—breathtakingly fortunate—to be alive, to have my newborn in my arms, to have survived.

A Close Call with Finality It's hard to fully grasp the seriousness of your own existence while still connected to hospital tubing, your body battered from trauma. But gradually, sanity filtered in amidst those endless recovery days. I had almost died in giving life. My sons had almost lost their mother. My life had almost come to an end in a sterile operating room, and with that came the question: what now?

The Lie I Had Been Living I was what most people would consider to be a "good person" before this momentous experience. I was a good teacher, a good mother, an obliging people-pleaser. I kept my head down and ticked the boxes—career, marriage, family. But beneath all of this, I had been floating, anaesthetised by routine and dissatisfaction. I wasn't unhappy, precisely, but I was discontent in a way that left a silence in my chest. I knew, even during the pregnancy, that I was living in a life that wasn't entirely mine. And if I'd died that night, I would have died with the regret.

Questions No Longer Ignored As I gazed into my sleeping newborn in the cradle next to me, a tide of thoughts swept in. How many more days would pass with me stifling my own voice to fulfill expectations that I did not share? Why was I fearful of disappointing others more than I was fearful of having a empty life? What if this was my second chance—not at survival, but at actually living?

Letting Go of Approval Reality struck home: I had structured a lot of my life around what others thought. Fear of being rejected had kept me silent. Fear of failure had kept me in a diminished state. But confronting death took those phobias away. There's something about nearly losing your life that makes you realize how wasteful it is to live a diluted version of it.

It took time, but the transformation started. I began to speak out. I began to dream anew. I began to say no—to activities, to people, to positions—that didn't fit the person I was transforming into. It was frightening. And it was freeing.

Rebirth Beyond the Operating Room Others receive theirs by relocating to a different city or changing careers. I received mine on an operating table. What ensued was not merely recovery but transformation. I started questioning what my children should learn from me not only about how to stay alive, but about how to prosper. I ceased apologizing for needing more, and began creating a life that didn't merely sound good on paper, but right in my bones.

Grasping the Second Chance Learning something that life could never teach me, I nearly died. Time is our most delicate currency, and we don't get to decide when our tale ends, but we do have a choice when deciding how the next chapter begins. I don't have solutions, and I still falter. But when I see my children, I am reminded of why I chose to live—and more so, why I chose to live differently.

Final Thought: Second chances are not always preceded by warning signals. Mine arrived in a whirlwind of blood and panic and wonder. But however it comes, in tragedy or a moment of quiet realization, the invitation is the same: live boldly, live honestly, and don't wait until the edge reminds you what truly matters.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken trust, pt.6/finale

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five 

Summary: Inside the fold, Y/N and the Darkling face off.

Warnings: angst, fluff sprinkled on top, indicating smut

========================

When she was a child, Y/N feared the darkness. Every night she would lay awake with a candle by her side, too scared to close her eyes. She feared the unspoken horrors that occurred under the cloak of darkness, of one day finding herself in peril as well. The fold fueled such fears, especially when the boys in the orphanage would speak of the Volcra. She had heard the descriptions, the vile appearances and inhuman deeds they’re capable of. They haunted her when she closed her eyes, wondering if that’s what killed her parents.

Y/N still fears the dark, just of a different kind.

She fears the darkness that resides in humans, the kind that’s lurking under the surface yet remains invisible to the naked eye. At any point, the darkness could surface and once it does, it would swallow anyone who stands in its way. Perhaps that’s where her trust issues stem from, the corruption of human hearts. People are wicked, using everything, even love, for their selfish desires.

In truth, she should have seen it before.

Aleksander Morozova should have been a clear danger for her heart right from the moment they met in that dark tent where she wondered how anyone could be comfortable in such an environment. A powerful, handsome man with a silver tongue and a weakness for her had seduced her by simply paying attention. He looked at her like no man ever before – like she was the only one for him, a source of eternal sunshine.

She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be deceived.

A woman with trust issues and a fear of darkness fell in love with a man who was darkness incarnated. He embodied all she dreaded and yet she couldn’t see beyond the mask of perfection he always kept in place. A part of her wondered if he ever showed who he truly is in those intimate moments they shared.

Throwing his head back, Aleksander laughed. His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath before it quaked with a new laugh erupting from deep inside.

“It’s not funny!” She pouted, trying to glare at him as if the sound of his laughter didn’t make her feel like she’s in a dream.

“You know I adore that pout”, Aleksander smirks, pinning her against the wall.

Breathless, her lips part just in time for Aleksander’s to take advantage. He gave a low, throaty chuckle once her knees turned to jelly and she collapsed against the strength of his arm behind her back. He bent, put his other arm beneath her knees. His mouth never leaves hers as he carries her to the bed. He abandoned her lips only to press them on her neck and she couldn’t believe how easily he swayed her.

Before long she could bear no more kissing. She ached all over and she pulled his hair to better meet his mouth. She fastened on his lips hungrily, greedily, ready to feel him inside her, around her, to completely numb her senses.

“Aren’t we eager today”, he teased her as he slowed down, determined to drawl out every moment he had with her.

“I can either be angry with you for laughing at me”, she trails off, her eyes flickering to his lips. “Or you can make me forget about the poor Grisha I flashed in your map room.”

Growling, he inhales sharply, “As amusing as it was to see you both scream, I prefer when you scream for me when we are alone.”

Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “I wanted to be spontaneous! How was I supposed to know someone else would be in the room?”

He picked up a lock of her hair from across her neck and held it up, letting the dim light of the fireplace play though the strands. He held it to his nose, then to his lips.

For the first time he could ever remember, he was completely content.

“What do you want us to do?” Ivan asks, finding the change in his general terrifying. He could see the Darkling is enraged, losing control and a Grisha powerful as he is could be lethal in such circumstances.

“You’ll do nothing”, Aleksander snapped as he mounted his horse. “I will go after her.”

He looks to his loyal Grisha with narrow eyes, aware he’ll return undoubtedly changed by whatever transpires inside the fold. Whether he returns with his Sun Summoner in hand or with her body in his arms, the Darkling would be different.

During his time with Y/N, Aleksander relied on her for happiness he long forgot about. He held onto her for as if she was all he had and she still abandoned him. They all do so once they see how far he’s ready to go in order to protect those he loves – his people….and her. He would have done anything for her.

This is his kingdom, but she’s not his queen anymore.

“We shall await for further instructions at the camp.”

Nodding, Aleksander turns away from them with a dark look on his face. For the first time since he created the fold, he will step inside and he didn’t know who would emerge victorious. If he dies, he won’t be around to care, but if she does? He was sure he will never be whole again.

He kissed the corner of her mouth boldly, waiting for a sign of resistance. Her hands pushed weakly against his shoulders but even at his slight touch, her eyes closed in surrender. 

Seeing her so, Aleksander smirked before he kissed her cheek, her ear lobe. Then, as she gasped for breath, his mouth came down on hers. His tongue sweetly touched the tip of hers and she drew back, startled. He smiled at her as if he understood how strange such affection is to her.

“Someone will see us”, she whines.

Shrugging, Aleksander’s smile grows wider, “Let them see.”

“Don’t you have a reputation of a hardass to preserve?” Her lips press into a thin line as her eyebrows rise, tantalizing him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He ran his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He was better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him.

Parting in desperate need of a proper breath, he looks at her rosy, swollen lips with complete resignation.

“My reputation means nothing to me when you’re with me. You are what I want my reputation to be.”

Panting, Y/N felt like her lungs would explode. She had been running from the edge of the fold, deep into the darkness she once feared. She ran because she wasn’t sure if Aleksander was furious enough to disregard his own safety by following her inside.

Lips quivering, she pulls out the flask Mal packed for her. Taking a sip, she frowns at the watered down taste of alcohol. She made it clear she wanted nothing but water, yet Mal disregarded her wish. Shaking her head, she smiles anyway. If Mal was with her, she’d thank him for the liquid courage. She’d have agreed to a bottle of whiskey now, lost in the dark.

Swept away in her thoughts, she gasps at the growling in the distance. Her heart nearly stops as a dark, looming shadow passes above her. She whips around as the growls come from behind her as well.

She passed sixteen markers, but she hoped to get to the eighteenth. She planned to get as close to the middle as humanly possible, but wasn’t this just it? If she kept going, nothing could guarantee her safety and she was deep enough inside the fold to at least try. 

Every night she laid awake in the past year was spent with her strengthening her light, her control. 

This was it – she could do it. 

She had to do it.

Releasing a shaky breath, Y/N folds her hands before her. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath as she parts her hands at the palms.

“I wouldn’t do that”, a painfully familiar voice sounds and her eyes open wide.

“Or you’ll kill me?” She laughs, unable to stop herself. It’s a laugh made from pure anxiety and hurt, one that made her feel like she’s mad. Her habit of laughing when she feels like she’s got nothing left to lose came rarely; the first time it happened was when she learned her parents have succumbed to the very fold she’s in now. She reckoned this would be the last time.

“I don’t want to but, if you do not submit to me –“, Aleksander starts, coming closer slowly as if she was a doe and he the hunter. Every sudden move could frighten her and he didn’t want to face what happens in that case.

“Kill me if you must but I will not submit to you, or any man who wears his crimes like crown jewels!”

Raising her voice had drawn the Volcra, the growling growing louder.

"Is it so wrong for me to want to save you?" Sniffling, Y/N swallows thickly. She couldn’t cry anymore, there were no tears left to cry. She’s dry, inside out. “Things could have been different, you know? You didn't have to fall so far.”

Lifting his chin, Aleksander took a step further in her direction. Catching the slightest shake of her head, he pauses, arms raised in mock surrender.

“You made me love you”, he speaks through gritted teeth, “To depend on you.” He clenches his jaw, his patience wearing thin. “Now you’re trying to take the last piece of my sanity with you.”

“You don’t have to do this”, she tries meekly, “We can still be magnificent. Be the man I fell in love with, please.”

“And then what? We’re supposed to play house while they’re killing our people?!” Aleksander spat, barely holding himself back. “They wouldn’t stop until they kill you right before me and any children we might have!”

Eyebrows knitted together, Y/N’s mouth opens at the words spoken. There was a moment when Y/N realized she’d misinterpreted her darling Darkling’s actions, his words, his expressions from the moment they met… as if he’d been speaking a language she couldn’t understand… that moment was the moment her heart broke…She could hardly speak in her shock when she learned he had lied to her, but this shockingly defining moment was much different than that first moment.

“Children”, she breathes out as a smile forms on her lips, one he found confusing.

All this time, Aleksander had been using the fold as a way to protect his people and yet, he failed to realize it is exactly what they need to destroy.

“We don’t need the fold”, her smile widens, “You are the fold, my darling Darkling and I am your Sun.” Her lips quiver, her entire body trembles and she still comes closer to him without fear. “With the two of us, we can create and destroy this fold anywhere in the world and today is our chance to demonstrate our power to all those who’d dare to defy us!”

Lips parting, he shakes his head. “What are you saying”, he sneers, still angry at her for defying him.

“I’m saying it doesn’t have to be one way or the other”, she chuckles in disbelief, “We can both destroy the fold and win this war. Every war.”

The growling is near, close enough for the hair to stand on the back of Y/N’s neck.

“Don’t”, he orders as her hands touch, “Don’t you dare!”

Shakily lifting her head, Y/N smiles, "I love you".

Before he has time to comprehend the weight of her words, his world was set aflame by a blinding light exploding all around him.

She screamed out as a bright light emerged from her entire being, enveloping her like a lover’s embrace. It is the kind of brightness that enchants the eyes to open all the wider as it warms the skin.

She never felt the warmth like this, not even when Aleksander’s lips gave her breath or when his arms gave her a reason to believe in him. This warmth is different, like the sun had incorporated itself into her soul and is finally shining through.

She looks to her hands, opening the fists that glow an ethereal light force she never experienced. Her light is like sunlight, it comes as woven strands, free and united, and flowing as it reveals and solidifies, making the world of nightmares around them into something so beautiful. 

Her eyes meet Aleksander’s dazed gaze, her smile wide but his lips are set in a firm line. 

She could feel her soul ripping as she pushed the light further from them, toward the edges. The pressure in her head grew, erasing the smile from her lips. Her legs barely kept her standing as she stumbles. She could feel a wet liquid running from her nose to her lips, the metallic taste making her eyes widen.

“You’ll kill yourself if you keep this up!” Aleksander shouts, trying to make her see sense but she shakes her head.

“I have to do this! For us!”

He could see a vein pulsating across her forehead, the blood gushing from her nose and it slowly became clear to him – he might not have been able to kill her, but seeing her like this convinced him he doesn’t have to. She’ll do it all on her own.

Reaching for her, his hands wrap around her wrists firmly. “I love you too”, he rests his forehead on hers, amplifying her power. He could feel her smile for a split second before she closed her eyes.

Gasping for air, she felt her insides burning and before she could stop herself, Y/N’s bloodcurdling scream echoed in the fold, effectively stopping his heart in fright.

As her scream dies down, Y/N goes limp in Aleksander’s arms.

Her light disappears, another one taking its place as he lowers to his knees, holding her close to him. Looking up, he almost cries as the blue skies above shine a light on his face. 

“You did it”, he croaks, shaking her slightly. “Solntse? Solnechnyy svet?!”

Unmoving, Y/N laid in his embrace as if she had simply fallen asleep, but Aleksander knew she was hanging by a thread.

“Lyubov’?” His voice breaks the self-imposed sternness, his fingers clutching the fabric of her kefta…He didn’t even realize she kept it. 

She must have put it on inside the fold, he realized.

Now, in the light of day, he finally saw the black kefta he ordered to be made for her – black with golden traces of the light she brought in his life. It was fitting she’d be given powers of light for she was the embodiment of lightning, illuminating stormy skies he couldn’t navigate through. Not on his own.

“Wake up”, he whispers. “I need you”, the raspiness of his voice and the cracks are enough testimony for the break inside his chest.

“I can’t survive without you”, he bowed his head down, a choked sob escaping him.

“I love you.” Aleksander whispered into her chest, breaking down when she didn’t say it back. Y/N always chose to say ‘I love you’ instead of goodbye, explaining goodbye was the last thing she ever wanted to tell him and he understood now. He never wanted to tell her goodbye, but maybe that’s necessary too. Maybe life is about learning a better way to say goodbye, learn to let go of the ones you love with nothing but love.

“Aleks”, she tries but the words are stuck in the back of her throat as her need to breathe becomes direr.

“Saints!” He presses his lips as he looks up at her, just as breathless as he was the day when he first saw her. “What can I do? Tell me how can I help you?!”

“All this time I’ve blamed you”, her hand rests upon his cheek, “For pulling me into the dark”, she pauses, “But I was wrong.” Wetting her lips, she manages a small smile, “It was me who brought out your dark side.”

She averts her gaze, hating the vulnerability in her voice as he takes her hand in his, inspecting the ring he gifted her with a crooked smile.

“None of it matters now”, he rests his forehead on hers, “I love you with all I am and I never want to feel like this again.”

“Look at me.” He’s not asking, rather demanding and she can feel the subtle difference just as she can feel his warm hand wrap around hers.

“Gladly”, she chuckles as he helps her sit. None of her hate for him remained. Love…hate, it was always a fine line to walk on and she finally settled on a side – his side.

Saying I love you is the bravest thing he has ever done in his life, for it took every ounce of strength and courage to openly expose his feelings to the love of his life, to put his heart on the line time and time again after all the times she walked away. He knew he didn’t deserve her as she’s always been too good for him, but he swore he’d spend the rest of his life building himself up to be the kind of man she’d be proud of.

“I love you”, he kisses the palm of her hand, giving her enough time to say it back.

“And I love you. I promise you, we will be unstoppable. Together, hand in hand, nothing will dare stand in our way.”

As soul meets soul in a lover’s kiss, the two embrace in the midst of a desert made of ruin they would find a way to rebuild. Their story is far from over, but this time around, they’ll write it together – as equal parts of a whole.

 Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @subjecta13-thefangirl @aquamariene-me​ @savannah-elliott @auggie2000 @daybleedsintonightfa11 

[racarnate]

⁞☀⁞ @sanpatron​​;

of all choice establishments he has had the pleasures of indulging himself this one in particular, the golden dawn resort provided a most impressive surplus of immediate amenities. the casino as one of their more ( if not most ) prominent addition drew a myriad of faces as it did the impressive masses from wards all around. even the most unsightly and unfortunate could openly wager themselves here be it a test of sanity, battle of wits or merely wishing to stand themselves against unthinkable odds. rare as the fabled diamond in the rough there were of course more losers than winners where many found an end to their ambitions be it at the edge of a table or before one of these machines. hah, despite their circumstance humans truly were fickle if not foolish creatures outright. just where did they summon forth the tenacity to press on when 'unfairly' overruled by the shackles of destiny itself? a wonder that ozymandias still entertains for even should he have been torn from the very roots of divinity he was sired he remains splendorous in all right.

for certain, when another man seems to be garnering some attempt at subduing his golden majesty by way of sudden inquiry. verily has he watched those who commonly come and go within these halls. ah, perhaps he had even sighted this one cleanly kept yet almost professionally burly looking fellow once or twice lingering around the bar? although it matters not for when the glossy covered issue of some clothing line or another is clasped shut betwixt his palm just so does his gaze turn sidelong towards the other so boldly addressing him seemingly without reason. a very blessing in itself then, that the great king he has learned to keen an ear towards the people even should they not be his own. he makes a fair proposal it seems after all, a deal that he can surely permit in passing should his own high demands and expectations be immediately met of course. the smile that crinkles his very lips could very well issue command without the need of words, however through the ages in being reborn once, twice.. again he finds most require of him to be plain spoken and given the sheer confidence of this one ozymandias finds nothing more fitting, more absolutely certain than turning the mere makings of this proposal into a challenge. he absolutely would not model for any base individual or their supposed top clothing line after all. the suit he sports is nothing special in particular, however more often than not the illustrious adornments strike special sense into those who are fortunate enough to even share the same room with him. he smirks all too knowingly.

❝ so certain are you? were it that i do not take doubt in such claims then, should you truly acknowledge and wish to bask in my radiance by having me wear your choice of clothing then i expect nothing but the greatest for you make request of a king and i shall not be adorned as anything but! now then, i do believe a prompt viewing of your products are in order before i permit it. ❞

[divineecelestial]

Out of Your League — Three

PAIRINGS — BUCKY BARNES X READER

SERIES SUMMARY — IN WHICH BUCKY BARNES GAINS A CRUSH ON A WOMAN SO OUT OF HIS LEAGUE.

CHAPTER TWO 

CHAPTER THREE — A competition and ground rules.

Feedback would be greatly appreciated! This isn’t my best writing but I absolutely adored this scene.

Bucky savored the bleakness of the midnight breeze, the cloak of spilled moonlight that shrouded over the hectic streets of New York. The bustling night never depleted, always brimming with vivid vitality that became his background noise as he became suffused with his clamored thoughts. From the balcony, he could see his hometown’s intensity of colors and sounds. But, as he sipped his beer with a relaxed nonchalance, the door creaked open. He was welcomed with the wondrous spectacle of you in an elegant satin dress with reflective blackened stilettos. Your sleek stilettos clicked as you wandered beside him.

There wasn’t an exchange between you for a concise moment as you both basked in the gentility of the view. You placed your arms on the polished railing beside him, concealing your mouth as you chuckled. “You aren’t supposed to laugh,” He exclaimed, his cheeks flushed. He knew exactly what you were thinking of that made you ignite with jubilance. “I’m so embarrassed.” You had tried to remain impassive, but the recollection of him attempting to hide his sticky situation was enough for you to perch your head on his shoulder while you shook with laughter. 

Your mirth eased and you collected yourself. “Don’t be,” You dismissed his shame with a small wave of your hand. “I’m flattered, truly.” Your voice was airy, humorous as you disregarded the severity of the predicament. He was appreciative of your supposed indifference, but he processed the remainder of your sentence.

He glanced down where you were reclined your head, the warmth of your skin seeped through his blouse. You seemed distracted by the aesthetic of the town. “You’re assuming it was about you?” He questioned, keeping his voice light and stoic. Undoubtedly the dream only contained risque images of you, but he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of reading him so easily. But it always seemed as if you were one-step-ahead of him, unraveling him with ease. 

Your hair artfully flowed with the small breeze that caressed your exposed skin with a frigid gentleness. “No, I know it was about me.” You corrected, your voice indisputable but melodiously sweet.

He chuckled with unhurried ease. “That’s a bold assumption.”

You straightened, reeling on your heels to face him entirely. “Oh, please. Spare me the bashfulness, James Buchanan Barnes,” Your intense eyes glimmered with the moonlight, exposing a fierce saturation.  “I’ve seen the way you look at me.” You were awfully observant, keen with indistinct details and you had him deciphered.

He brought the rim of his bottle to his soft lips. “Don’t flatter yourself, doll.” His words were seamless and suave, but his hands shook slightly. 

You smiled and it was painfully beautiful. “I also know I’m the only person you call doll. It’s cute.” Pride oozed off your tongue as you spoke, somewhat boastful with your observation. You were correct, though. He hadn’t called anyone else that gushy nickname for as long as he could remember, but you always responded positively with the name so he continued. 

He removed his eyes from the city’s bright lights and finally turned towards you, the actual view on that balcony. Your satin dress sculpted your frame, dreadfully tight while it accentuated your curves. He swallowed the unsureness coursing through him as he witnessed your elegance entirely now. Your necklace traveled down to your decolletage, aglitter with concisely carved diamonds. “Narcissism isn’t a good look on you.” He lied straight through his teeth. He thoroughly enjoyed your conceited behavior. 

You inched forward, your voluptuous physique was taunting him. “On the contrary, I think it’s my best look.” He couldn’t deny that statement because it was definitely accurate. There was something delectable about your self-assurance, confidence that lured him further away from sanity and much closer to finally touching your bare skin. 

He shook his head, completely amused by your certainty. “Is there a reason you’re bugging me?” 

“There is, actually.” You reached for his bottle, yanking the beer from his loose grasp. “Spend tonight with me.”

His steadiness on the metallic railing stumbled, nearly collapsing onto the floor. He wasn’t certain if he heard you correctly. “I—” He attempted to speak, but he choked on his words. 

You inclined your head, a sultry glimmer reflecting in your eyes. “I can show you all my favorite spots in the area,” Your eyes glimpsed towards the hundreds of towering buildings in the distance as if they were beckoning you. “Come on, it'll be fun. You do know what fun is right?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Yes, I do know what fun is. I have it all the time.” His voice wasn’t convincing.

You raised your eyebrows, grasping his forearm with your jeweled hands. “So, there shouldn’t be an issue with you having some fun with me.” You whined childishly.

He contemplated the proposal, pondering on the variety of possibilities he could endure if he accepted your suggestion. “Wouldn’t you rather spend time with Sam or Natasha?” He inquired with a slight abrasive edge. He wasn’t necessarily jealous, or that was what he tried to convince himself, but he wasn’t particularly fond of how much time you were with Sam. 

Your expression softened. “No, I wouldn’t,” You boldly admitted. “Bucky, I want to spend tonight with just you and only you.” He didn’t respond immediately. This situation was unfamiliar. A beautiful woman who was the center of tabloids, photographed everywhere she visited, seemingly blessing the floor with each step she made, choosing him over everyone else. He was your first choice and he didn’t know that was possible.

Bucky’s eyes were heavy with adoration and he tore his gaze from you, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.” He pleaded, almost desperately. His stomach was aflutter, his heart seconds from tearing his chest open.

You recoiled, surprised with the sudden change. “Do what?” 

He watched the hundreds of vehicles drive through the crowded lanes. “Make me feel this way. This isn't easy for me. I’ve never—” The confession wasn’t irate or miserable. He was nervous, unable to finish the sentence. This vulnerability was unknown to him. “Not like this. But, you matter to me. A lot.” His hands clenched around the banister, his heart beating like never before. Here he was confessing his emotional attraction to you, New York City’s socialite who was too fucking pretty for her own good.

Your mouth curved into a docile smirk. “I know,” The wind breezed between you both and he could smell the fragrance of your perfume. “Which is why I haven't completely charmed you into being wrapped around my finger just yet.”

Bucky couldn’t contain his laughter. “Completely?” He asked, his shoulders moving with his mirth. “I don’t think I can handle anymore, then.” 

You chuckled beside him, cherishing the aroma of his cologne. “My point is, we have all the time in the world. There's no need to rush into anything. You were brainwashed and tortured for almost a hundred years. I don't blame you for needing to take things slow.” 

He released a breath. “I don’t know how long I’ll need,” He apprehensively admitted. “I can’t ask you to wait for me.” He couldn’t ask you to remain devoted to him while he slowly recovered. 

As you looked upward at him through your lashes, your expression transformed into a dreamy softness. “It’d be my pleasure to wait as long as you’d need.”

The multi-colored array of city lights illuminated you from behind, giving you a radiant halo. He didn’t understand how someone was this breathtaking. “You make it impossible to say no.” 

You beamed with your sparkling teeth on display. “One of my many talents.” 

“I’m guessing modesty isn’t one of those talents.”

With a scoff, you pushed yourself off the banister. “Of course, it isn’t.”

He followed after you, clutching your arm with delicacy. “So, we’re just friends, right?” 

The gleam in your eyes was anything but friendly. “For now.” 

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

You leaned against the doorframe, looking at him with a teasing gaze. “Because you have no idea what I have planned for us.”

He raised a brow. “Us? I like the sound of that,” He mused, “but it also sounds like you're not going to make it easy for me.”

You threw your head back as you gently laughed, the sound echoing through the night. It was enough to have the palms of his hands become damp. “Not a chance,” He would be lying if he said this hadn’t made him thrilled for whatever it was you had planned. “So, come with me tonight. Tonight, let's pretend that we're the only two people in the entire world.” 

He pretended to consider the offer, despite knowing he would’ve dropped anything he had planned to spend an entire night alone with you. “All right, you’ve convinced me,” He stepped closer, dangerously close and his eyes remained fixated on your alluring gaze. “Let’s make some ground rules.”

Intrigue colored your face. “Is this a competition? Because if so, be prepared to lose tragically.”

“I wouldn't sound so confident. I'll have you swooning in no time.”

His thighs brushed against yours. “We’ll see about that.” 

His eyes glanced at your lips. “No kissing.” 

You licked them, coquettishly biting on your lower lip. “You’ll regret that. I happen to be an amazing kisser.” Your breath tickled his mouth teasingly. 

Unintentionally, he glimpsed down where your breasts were pressed against this chest, enticingly on display. “No s-se—” He trailed off, he couldn’t think properly as you leaned forward, completely aware of you where doing. 

“Sex?” You finished for him. “You can say the word, Bucky. But I'll be a good girl and behave. No sex.” Your words coated in an undescribable naughtiness. 

Your interlaced your hands with his, his warmth and coldness from both hands shrouded you with arousal so thick you were certain he must have noticed. “No jealousy.” 

Your glossed lips sparkled as you smirked. “I like a challenge.” 

With a surge of confidence, he tenderly cupped your smooth face. “And most importantly, try not to fall in love with me so quickly, doll.” If you wanted, you could connect your lips with his, disregard this competition within a blink of an eye, but you were determined to make his life a living hell.

“I could say the same for you.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip and you slowly enclosed your mouth around his thumb, sucking softly. 

He appeared as if he was seconds from collapsing into your erotic touch. “With the way you're looking at me right now, I'm definitely failing.”

TAGLIST 

@mielfromvenus

[nitannichionne]

Saving Superman (Henry Cavill Fan Fiction/XReader) Part 3:

PART 3: EVERYBODY NEEDS SOMEBODY

Your heart is racing as you ride up the elevator with Henry...alone. You decide to break the silence with a question. "Why were you waiting for someone to say your name?"

"It was an experiment of sorts," he confessed. "After that lesson in humility when I stood under the Superman billboard at Times Square, I just thought I'd try it again."

"But you were a vagrant," you argue. "That's not fair-"

"Maybe not, but I was rewarded by you."

"Me?"

"I stood out to you. You realized it was me." He chuckled softly.  "You found me."

"How could I not?"

"Very easily," he muttered.

The elevator doors opened, and he leads you out by the hand. He takes you to a suite.

"Nice," You are truly impressed.

"Thank you," his voice is almost a purr. "So...?"

"So..." You swallow hard as he approaches you. "So what?"

His smile was almost mischievous, his blue eyes sparking as his canines showed. "You found me. I'm basically yours. What do you do now?"

You swallow hard. He isn't saying this, you think.

"Well?" He drawls.

"You need a bath and a shave." That was the truth.

"Well?"

You take his hand, and lead him to the bathroom. You place your hands on his chest and push the oversized jacket open, smoothing your hands over his chest and to his shoulders where he simply shrugs the jacket off, making it land with a thud on the tile floor. He looks at you expectantly, a naughty smile tugging on his lips. Ah the game is afoot!

You take another deep breath to steady your hands as you begin to unbutton his shirt. You stand there, under his gaze, avoiding it so you can do the task at hand. He has a t-shirt on underneath, and your mind spins at the fact that it's next. You push the shirt off his shoulders the same way you did his jacket and you stand there for a second. He raises his eyebrows expectantly and you put your hands under his t-shirt on his back, allowing your hands to splay over it and hooking your thumbs under the bottom edges so you can run your hands over him while pulling the t-shirt up and over his head. He bends to help you and stands at full height again, making you realize he is closer than he was before.

"And...?"

You decide it best to look in his eyes while unbuttoning his trousers, taking particular care when unzipping them. You couldn't really avoid touching him, and he responds instantly to your brushing him, grazing him gently. He sucks a breath, not in pain, and sighs in relief. It then dawns on you that it had been five days-maybe longer-since he'd been here in comfort, but also five days without female company, companionship... you slowly slide the trousers down his legs, and realize that there is an item left to attend to: his underwear. And even though it had been five days, he still smelled...male, intense, good...a small moan escapes you before you could stop it.

He caresses your hair as you reach up to the waistband. You trace it, trying to gain the nerve to do what you really want to do, and he must be expecting you to do. You slide your cheek gently up his thigh and put your hands under the garment, caressing his hips as you spread your fingers to caress him, to pull him to you. With nothing but cotton fabric between you and him, you breathe hot air over him, teasing him with your lips, but giving yourself a very explicit impression of what lies underneath. His moan turns into some sort of sighing hiss.  You like the sound. Hands on his hips, you finally pull the fabric down to his ankles, and he steps out of all of it. He stands nude before you now, and you realize you are panting lightly. You're excited, you feel him, and you want him...

"I really need a shower."

You respond by standing and turning it on, setting the water to something between warm and hot.

"I can't reach my back," he says softly. "Will you help me?"

You nod yes but don't realize what he means by that until he starts undressing you. He places his hands on your chest and pushes your jacket off your shoulders so you can shrug it off. He palms and cups your breasts, running his thumbs over the tips, and then boldly places his hands under your shirt on your stomach to run his hands over your torso while helping  you out of it. Again his fingers linger on your nipples and you strain to not go weak in the knees. He makes short work of your jeans, and slides them down your legs, but then stops to reach up and pull your panties down too, paying you the same favor you did him as he does. You gasp softly as his breath is like fire between your legs. You want more, but you can't speak, seeing what must be to come in your mind. He finally slides up your body to full height. You lean against him, unsure if it's modesty or need, but he runs his hands over your back, and cups your derriere to align your hips with his own, not leaving much to the imagination of hardness, his length, his size... You suck in a breath...oh, God...you feel your body completely respond: your lips slightly part in an effort to breathe normally, your heart is racing, your butterflies have happily settled at the pit of your stomach, sending the fluttering sensation between your legs and you open up to him, body anticipating more...you know you're wet, and he hasn't even kissed you!

And instinctively you feel he knows all of this...he steps into the shower and pulls you in after him, dragging you against his body. The water is calming, soothing...until his lips finally descends on yours.

You open your mouth instantly, nibbling his lower lip to get him to bend down just a bit more. When he does, he plunders your mouth with his own, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth, and you respond by sucking his tongue. A growl escapes him as he braces you against the shower wall, and you moan at the combined sensation of his mouth against your neck, cascading like the water is over your breasts. He swirls the water around your nipples, creating a mini-whirlpool effect, and makes your knees go weak. He goes lower...lower...you hear your own half pants, half moans reverberate off the shower walls...

"Ah!" You start to sink as you feel him kiss you intimately, and he braces against the shower wall you to keep you in place. There is no composure to have. There is no hiding. You moan loudly and wantonly, grabbing his shoulders as he drives you mad with the indecision of pulling him closer to bring you relief or pushing him away to gain some sanity.

You're in a daze. You are trembling against the wall, and you are grateful for the support. He seizes a washcloth and soaps it up, washing your body quickly. Instead of rinsing you off, he squats to pick you up and rubs his body against yours, effectively soaping up his chest and stomach. "Wash my back."

"Huh?"

"Wash my back, love," he murmured. You take the washcloth, and begin only to feel him lower you onto him. He stretches you, but you're more than ready. He feels so good, and as relief washes over you, he says, "My back, love?"

You begin to wash him, up and down in long strokes...and you realize that he is matching the rhythm of your strokes with his own. You go slow and he slowly lifts and then pulls you down, thrusting deeper. You quicken the rhythm and so does he. You try to keep going but it's too much and you succumb to his tempo, helpless and bound by desire. You gasp and whimper with pleasure as he builds to climax after climax, until finally you are helplessly and mindlessly riding him to the one that pleases you both.

He allows you to slide down his body. "Dry off, love." You aren't steady, so he gives you  a light slap on your rear. Weirdly that steadies you. You dry off as he lathers up to shave. As he does shave, you dry him, making him smile in the mirror. As he rinses you make your way to the bedroom.

You are not sure what to do now. You are weak, your legs don't feel strong enough to go anywhere. He is who he is and you know that this is...unreal...a step away from reality, but you start trying to tell yourself you need to go and deal with what you've done and you are not sorry about...

Until he picks you up from behind and throws you on the bed.

"Henry?!"

"Yes?" He begins the whole process again, except this time horizontally. You want to get away, you want to run and maybe even hide...but then he kisses you...his lips sear that sensitive skin on your neck...you arch to him pleadingly, giving into your basic needs, your carnal senses...and he is meeting them, feeding that hunger you silently keep to yourself, that no one met. Caution is thrown to the wind. Pleasure is the principle. You just. Don't. Care.

[evoedbd]

Red

Summery:   Vivienne gets a wake up call when she finds Nadia holding Silvana on the edge of the roof. Finally, her father's words make some sense, and Vivienne acts on her unspoken threat. So this is basically my take on what might happen after ep 9. I'm so sick of reading all the assumptions that Vivienne is going to royally fuck things up or cheat or some other funky stuff. So, I took it in the opposite direction. ********************************************************************** Red. It was a word Vivienne was intimately familiar with. It was the barrier she put between herself and a lover. It was the only word which could turn her dominance to soothing without question. It was the word Vivienne used when she was trapped, speechless at the potency of invasive questions delivered from delectable lips. It was the full stop, move on. A non-negotiable end of current conversation. Red was the wall between her and discomfort. It was the colour the cape she wrapped around her shoulders when her skin could not bear the brunt of strangers leering or cold breezes. It was the colour of her favourite pair of high heels which helped accentuate her long legs and ample hind quarters. It was the colour of her toxic lipstick, her final line of defence and her control over any who would take the kiss she never truly wished to offer. It was the fate of those who didn’t take heed when they heard Vivienne Tang was poisonous; a viper in human skin, a seductress without a heart, one who would use her body to disable her prey, then claim whatever she desired from them, before leaving them cold, alone and robbed. Red was the colour of emergency sirens, the flashing which accompanied alarms. It was adrenaline, the fire Vivienne wished could burn eternal. Red was anger. It was passion. It was roses, devotion, and romance. Red was everything Vivienne had tried to embody, yet never truly had. Red was the unattainable hovering above the palm of her hand, only to become a ghost should she try to touch it.

Red was the only thing Vivienne could process.

It was the blood roaring in her ears, rushing through her veins as her pulse spiked. It was every alarm screaming in her mind as tainted white threatened to consume her. White suit jacket with nothing underneath. White suit pants sculptured to the woman wearing them. Blonde hair, which turned to shadowy black at the roots. The illusion of light where only darkness lived. White was Nadia. Gorgeous, tall, blazing Nadia. She was a creature of passion and violence, a demon who gladly defiled those too weak to endure the heat of her flames. This was the woman who pursued Vivienne with more ruthless intent than she could ever recall in her life. Nadia was an animal who violated secret after secret, digging deeper and deeper into Vivienne’s head without ever communicating. Nadia was the temptation, the demon with the offer of Vivienne’s lifelong desire. Nadia was also the monster holding Silvana on the very edge of the roof.

There was an old saying, “Red sky in the morning, shepherds warning”. It spoke of bad weather, of hard rains and storms. Perhaps it was why the morning skies were scarred red, bleeding into fiery orange clouds against the skyline of Paris. It felt right. It was the only sunrise worthy to compliment Vivienne’s emotions; the dangerous storm brewing within. Perhaps the world had known this was coming. Perhaps Earth had wanted to warn Paris to hide.  Maybe it was warning the people to lock their doors and bar their windows, to hide from what was to come.

All it took was one look into Silvana’s normally comforting dark hues for Vivienne to snap. She finally fucking exploded. The fear in Silvana’s eyes was the final spark. Vivienne didn’t see the shutdown, startled fear she had when Inez had pushed Silvana to whisper red. It wasn’t the same adrenalized fear seen when guns had been pointed at them. No, what Vivienne had seen was far worse. It was the acceptance that fear was the only reaction, that it was valid and birthed by truth. Silvana’s expression was the fear of someone trying to decide what they feared more. Which fear would claim them? It didn’t matter what she was scared of. Silvana was afraid, and it was enough to make Vivienne act.

Red heels seemed powered by flames as Vivienne closed the distance, her usually controlled expression twisted into something devoid of sanity. Dark eyes became the shadows of hellhounds, perfect lips contorted into snarl to rival the devil himself. Pale features became the mask of the reaper, gleaming beneath the shadows of inky hair.

Her father had told her time and time again not to levy idle threats. He had mocked her, even taking Silvana’s poppy to prove a point. He’d shown her no respect, but he’d taught her something. Never levy idle threats. Nadia had pushed every boundary, continuously showering Vivienne in gifts and flattery that would have lured the seductress away under any other circumstance. Nadia had taken the bait as Vivienne played her role, dragging Nadia’s focus away from The Poppy, away from Silvana. Even as Silvana raged, Vivienne played the game. She thought herself in control, even when Silvana spoke of Nadia’s threats to her. Even in the darkness of the catacombs, in her moment of surrender, she never considered herself as anything but in control. It was a moment she allowed herself to be blinded, to scream how she belonged to another. Then, she’d boldly staked her claim once more, taken control with screamed delights and unspoken threats. Still, she’d been foolish. She had given Nadia one final chance. She’d given Nadia a glimpse of what laid beneath composure and seduction. A glint of the savage darkness Vivienne had never fully given into. One single warning. “Do not threaten Silvana again.” No promise was made, no threat was given. Just that single warning, delivered by the slip of Vivienne’s mask. Nadia had not taken heed, and just like Dean, she had pushed the boundary further. Vivienne was smarter now; more invested than ever before... and Nadia was not her father.

If Nadia wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, Vivienne was all too happy to oblige. Vivienne hadn’t cared to process how she had crossed the distance, nor when Nadia had turned. Before a word could be spoken, Vivienne’s hand had shot out, grasping the opened edge of Nadia’s silken suit jacket. Her grasp was vicious, fingers briefly skimming the naked breast beneath as her fist tightened. The barest tease just a blink before she pulled Nadia close and kissed her.

It was not a chaste gesture, nor was it gentle. It was heat. It was lips and tongue and teeth. It was clashing; violent and sloppy. It was makeup smearing as Vivienne channelled all her rage into a single kiss. It was hatred, the cumulation of months of violated boundaries and tense relationships exploding. It was passion. Nothing else could describe how Vivienne’s spare hand captured a fistful of hair, as close to the roots as possible. Pulling. Demanding. Dragging Nadia’s lips into the perfect position as Vivienne’s tongue plunged into the caverns of the defiler’s mouth. A tongue bearing her lipstick. A wicked tongue which worked to trap her poison behind Nadia’s teeth, down her throat, along every tastebud. Anywhere and everywhere.

There was one moment, a single second in time where Vivienne’s mind echoed with her own words. So many times, she had refused to accept death as the solution to a problem. She had forgiven deeds unforgivable in order to cling to that last semblance of humanity; to prevent herself crossing that dark, unspeakable line everyone in the criminal world faced. She had seen what happened to those who crossed it, even for a second. The darkness on the other side followed them. Haunted them. It was her line in crime. The one thing she couldn’t even fathom doing, even at her most enraged. Then, there was the darkness. Love would have its sacrifice, yet it offered one single mercy: the choice. For Vivienne, it was not even a choice. This woman had crossed the one line Vivienne could no longer forgive. She had gone after Vivienne’s family; she had gone after Silvana. The woman who walked in darkness to follow a light Vivienne thought dead. The Angel who brought worlds to life for all to enjoy, who captured beauty in ways nobody could see until she opened their eyes. Nadia had ignored all the warnings and gone after Silvana.

This time, Vivienne had been unable to put words to her threat, but it was no longer idle. The Viper’s coils tightened, pulled back into an S position as she waited for the perfect moment. Then, Vivienne claimed her penance in blood. Her teeth framed Nadia’s lower lip for a fraction of a second before Vivienne bit down. Hard. Harder than she had ever bitten in her life.

The Poppy didn’t kill, but this was not the Poppy. This was Vivienne Tang.

Even as she bit, she drove her fist forwards, plunging the fangs of her Viper Ring directly into Nadia’s heart.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Nadia’s quiet grunts of alarm were piercing compared to the heavy breaths escaping Vivienne. The seductress heaved and huffed, withdrawing from the kiss with blood staining her teeth, her lips and her chin. Her composure was long gone, shattered along with the mask of indifference. Humanity only showed in Vivienne’s gorgeous form, otherwise she was everything people said. Heartless. A seductress, leaving her prey helpless as she claimed what she wanted. A viper with incurable venom.

Nadia groaned, trembling as her legs gave out. She flopped, suspended only by Vivienne’s grasp on her jacket. Her skin was warm against Vivienne’s curled fingers, so painfully soft in ways only a woman could ever be.  In the past, it would have been precisely what Vivienne hunted for.  That softness beneath silken ropes; tangled in knots that Vivienne had created to ensnare her willing victim.  Now, all she longed for was for the warmth to return to Silvana’s dark eyes.  To see chocolate hues unburdened by fear, or doubt, or that awful, unspeakable pain Vivienne was beginning to realise she had put there; that she continued to cause with her own inability to be a normal human being, to be the partner the artist needed.   Vivienne also knew she was precisely what Nadia needed.  With Nadia, she could have been perfect once more.  She wouldn’t have had to gaze into that pain, to spend hours fighting with it in her mind.  She wouldn’t have been burning inside as she tried to understand, or tried to change every behaviour she had created to survive.   Even as she stared down into Nadia’s eyes and saw the potential, she couldn’t choose that easy road.  Every moment Vivienne thought she could step onto that golden pathway to her dreams, she realised the path had turned to muck. The road she was choosing was going to hurt, perhaps she would lose what she was fighting for, but to let Silvana go… it was more unspeakably terrifying than anything else.   She thought that nothingness was her biggest fear, yet it paled in comparison to the moment she had seen Silvana on the edge, the crushing moment she believed she was about to lose her.

Vivienne turned her gaze to Silvana, expecting to see horror etched on her timeless face.  Instead, she found Silvana on her knees, trembling from the adrenaline flooding her veins.  Despite everything, Silvana’s eyes were calm.  Fear had faded, leaving only the endless pool of warmth and acceptance. Of course, Silvana wasn’t afraid of her. Silvana was, perhaps, more insane than any woman she had met and yet the only one who could keep her grounded.   Silvana, the one woman who could endure her kiss, the woman who actively poisoned herself for the chance to kiss her. Silvana was the only one who had seen those shadows in Vivienne and had loved them instead of run.  They were not a negative she tolerated; they were a part of Vivienne that Silvana had begged for.  Silvana had expressed how she wished Vivienne’s poison would flood her veins, until her own body changed to accept it.  Never had Silvana asked Vivienne to leave her life behind, or to change the core of who she was.  She constantly gave to Vivienne, always asking instead of just trying to take.  The only reason she didn’t know what gifts to give Vivienne, because she would never push the boundaries Vivienne had set. She didn’t know things by Vivienne’s own design and did her best to accept the blindfold instead of violating the trust she was given.   Perhaps the light Vivienne was chasing would drive her blind, but as Silvana had pointed out, sight was only one of five senses.  The Gilded Poppy, Vivienne’s family, was enough to enrich her life beyond what she had sought.  And Silvana… she was worth whatever price Vivienne had to pay to keep her.  She was worth enduring discomfort, worth uncovering and facing her true fears.  Silvana was worth letting go of everything for.  All Vivienne had to do was let go.  And so, she did.  With one final look at Nadia, Vivienne Tang let go.

It was not the end Nadia had expected, not an end which would be spoken about for generations of criminals. Not that burst of life before sudden death. It was near silent. Quiet, on the rooftops of Paris as the Sun rose in the sky. There was no fanfare when Vivienne released her jacket, nor when her body fell into a heap. It was... peaceful.

[winchest09]

Shatter Me - Chapter Five

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4159

Summary: The Winchesters were your world. After joining their hunter ranks, you quickly became attached to the brothers. After a successful hunt, you insist on going out celebrating with the boys – only for a loose end to catch up with you. You’re trapped in a world without hunger, thirst and the Winchesters. With the brothers beside themselves, they make preparations to say goodbye until Dean starts to connect to you through his dreams. Little do they know that you’re much closer than they think…

Chapter warnings: 18+, Mentions of alcohol, anger, death, grief, upset, angst, violence

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and enjoying this fiction so far. I really hope you enjoy this next chapter. Few things are revealed. Hopefully, you’ll get them! Also, i think i’ve sorted the tags now. So please let me know if your tag, didn’t tag.

Please let me know what you think, feedback is my fuel! Comment or reblog, i’ll love you guys forever!

Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :)

Shatter Me Masterlist  

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

Chapter Five

“Dean” You whimpered louder, frantically trying to feel his hands through the barrier. You stared into his mossy green orbs, your heart pounding frantically in your chest. You saw him smile at you, his eyes crinkling as his mouth grew wide. God, how you’d missed him in such a short space of time.

“We gotta get you home sweetheart” Dean shouted through the force field “We need to get you out of there”

“Gee, you think?” You sassed, causing Dean to smile. Hope sparked in your chest, Dean had come to take you home. You’d just got to escape whatever prison you were currently in. That scared you. You had no idea who or what was keeping you here, you didn’t know how to break the barrier and you knew you couldn’t walk through it. So you tried to find a loophole, a weak point in the force, Dean mirroring your every step on the outside. You were trying your best to stay calm, trying your best not to panic but your efforts to find an escape were starting to look fruitless.

The cold was biting at your skin, your tears were burning your cheeks and your teeth were chattering due to your temperature drop. The silence you were filled with was deafening. You needed to focus. Looking back up at Dean, hoping he would give you the motivation to keep going, you noticed how he was starting to look a little faded, as if his form was flickering.

“De?” You questioned, his green eyes catching yours.

You saw how he tried to speak, you saw how his form was starting to fade, that Dean hadn’t got the strength to stay. Your chest grew tight as your breathing came erratic. You pushed your hair out of your face as you looked around for anything that could be of use on the ground. All your eyes fell upon was a thick broken tree branch and you knew that it was better than nothing. With all you had, you picked up the branch and swung it behind you, planning to use all the momentum you could to smash the barrier and get to Dean.

With one heavy swing, a forceful scream leaving your lips, you swung the branch with both hands towards the force field. With a loud blow, you were projected backwards into a tree, your escape weapon snapping into pieces and a searing pain travelling up your left arm.

“Son of a bitch!” You cried as you held your arm, eyes desperately searching for Dean. He had gone. “No” You muttered as you looked around you “No!” You screamed, knowing once again you were alone.

However you couldn’t focus, you had a searing pain in your left arm that appeared to be more than a strained muscle from launching a tree branch. Looking down to inspect the damage, you felt your skin burn as thick black cracks appeared on your skin. Creeping from the edge of your wrist to the middle of your forearm. You panicked and you tried your hardest to claw at the dark marks but it was of no use. They had scarred your skin and they were throbbing, a constant reminder of your attempted escape. It felt as though someone was carving into your flesh with a hot knife and you could only curl downwards into your knees as you sobbed, willing the pain away.

You started to question your sanity as you held onto your arm. Did you really see Dean? Was this place messing with your head to make you believe that he was there? Was this place helping you to hurt yourself?

“I’m going crazy” You choked out through sobs “This place…it’s messing with my head” You whispered into yourself, wanting to believe more than anything that the Winchesters were trying to save you.

With a jolt, Dean wakes from the floor, looking up to see Castiel leaning over him. Clearly agitated, Dean slapped the angels hand away from him as he tried to get up, annoyed that he’d been woken up when he was so close to getting to you.

“Cas, what the hell?!” Dean snapped

Cas stepped forward, concern etched in his features “Dean” He uttered in his gravelly voice.

Dean shook his head “No dammit, why did you pull me back, Y/N was right there!” He enraged only to have his brother interrupt him.

“Dean!” Sam interjected, his voice strong, his arm on Deans ensuring he looked his way “We had too, look at Y/N’s arm” He exclaimed, his hands gesturing towards your body.

Dean frowned before glancing towards your body, his eyes landing on the dark, defined cracks on your left arm. He whipped around to your left side, his fingers gingerly touching the marks that you wore on your skin, his brow creasing in concern and confusion.

Sam edged forward gingerly, Cas at his side, both of them equally concerned for Dean’s welfare and your own.

“What happened in there Dean?” Sam said softly, not wanting to antagonise the situation further.

Dean’s eyes flickering from the cracks in your arm to your face before shaking his head “She was behind a barrier. I couldn’t get to her but I saw her. I saw the desperate looks in her eyes as she banged against this force field” He closed his green eyes, squeezing them tight as he tried to remember every visual detail “I told her we needed to get her out but we couldn’t find a loophole. The last thing I remember was Y/N going to pick up a branch”

Dean sighed as he held your left hand in his, his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose as his mind raced a million miles per hour.

Castiel stepped forward to the right side of your body, opposite Dean, before glancing down over you “Whatever she did, it has affected her physical form”

Dean stared at Cas, waving is hand over your injury “Can you not use your angel juice to fix these?”

“I cannot heal these marks Dean” The angel shook his head slightly as he gestured over your body “I’m sorry, I wish I could” He said with sincerity.

There was a pause of silence between all three men, all of them looking at you and the fresh wound on your arm. It was concerning. The boys naturally knew they had a race against time to save you, as your body would slowly deteriorate without food or water but knowing something is causing your skin to crack? That was added pressure on an already stressful situation. The boys didn’t know if the cracks were superficial or if they had any lasting effect on your body. They didn’t know if they were slowly killing you and it was all a bit disconcerting.

“I’m not letting her die on me” Dean boldly stated, his eyes trained on your face, determination set upon his face. He turned to face his brother as his plan formed in his mind “Sam, call Rowena”

Sam just nodded as Dean turned to walk towards the door “A witch got us into this mess, a witch can get us out of it”

Castiel just looked between the brothers, determined to help anyway he could “I’ll speak with the angels, see if they’ve heard of anything like this”

Dean nodded, grateful for his friends help “Ok, good” He agreed as he tapped one hand on the doorframe as he went to leave the room. Only to have Sam stop him in his tracks.

“Where are you going?” Sam probed, curious.

Dean just ticked his jaw to the side as he tapped on the wooden door frame “To read every book I can find on curses, sleep spells and death omens. There’s got to be something Sammy”

With that Dean left your room, half jogging to the archive room to dig out what he could, to see what could help. He knew Sam would attack the library books so he’d start in the archive. Castiel and Sam were left a little stunned by Dean’s admission, considering he was the one that hated doing any kind of research. But this was research that could save your life and Dean would stop at nothing to save you.

Castiel frowned as he stepped to be by Sam’s side “I don’t understand, Dean hates researching”

“Yeah” Sam half laughed before his face fell, his lips in a tight line as he kicked the floor, his hands on his hips “…but he loves Y/N”

Down the hallway, in Dean’s bedroom, the snow globe sat on his bedside table. Nothing but a bedside lamp to the left of it illuminating the room. As the boys went about their business, each with a task to save you, a familiar blue hue illuminated the globe. It projected a cold tone in the dimly lit room and with a small spark of white light, a fracture had appeared on the glass of the globe. The boys hadn’t realised that the deep, dark cracks you wore on your skin, had affected more than just your body.

 You shivered as you made your way back to the cabin. You couldn’t remember which direction it was so you just turned in the opposite direction of the barrier and hoped for the best. The cold was starting to seep into your bones and with your new injury, you needed and wanted to keep warm. You were taking everything in as you walked, the trees, the snow and the sky. As you came to a clearing, the cabin clear in view, you turned your face up towards the stars. It was only then you noticed a strange yellowish hue shining down through the darkness. It was mild, barely noticeable but it was definitely there. Was the sun trying to rise? You couldn’t make sense of it.

As you stood there in the silence, staring into the sky, you tried your hardest to focus on your surroundings. There was no wildlife here, you hadn’t seen a single creature, not even a fly. That had you curious, what had driven the wildlife away? How were you going to survive with no food? With that thought, you headed inside the cabin, the old wooden planks creaking under your booted footsteps.

Closing the heavy door behind you, you looked around and started to study your surroundings. If you were trapped here, then you needed to learn everything you could about your prison. There had to be a clue somewhere which would tell you where you were and more importantly, how to escape. As stood at the entrance of the cabin, you noticed the kitchen to your left and a set of sofas and a fireplace to your right. It was open plan it seemed, the living room and kitchen combined. Shivering once again with the cold, you headed over to the cobblestoned fireplace and thanked your lucky starts that there was firewood available. It took you only a few tries but you managed to get a fire going to which you warmed your hands in front of it. You quickly grabbed at your left wrist again however, the pain getting too much.

You stood and glanced towards the two shut doors of the cabin, you needed warmer clothes or at least a duvet to keep you warm but first you were desperate to find some sort of pain relief. You scoured the kitchen cupboards but to your surprise, they were all bare or they wouldn’t open. The fridge had nothing inside it and panic bubbled in the pit of your stomach. How can you survive without any nutrients?

Wondering if there was a stock cupboard anywhere, you explored the rest of the cabin. Opening one door, you noticed a bathroom equipped with a freestanding bath which looked oddly inviting. Again you looked through the medicine cabinet to find it empty. You frowned, how can you be in a cabin which has absolutely nothing? Choosing to go through the last door you had yet to explore, you walked into the bedroom. You were astounded at what you found, it looked like a five star resort. There was a queen four poster bed, covered in throw pillows and fur blankets. To the left of your entrance, there was a window seat, looking out over the snow again adorned with fur blankets. It would be cosy if you came here of your own will.

Unfortunately, there was no storage cupboards or closets to be found and you ran your uninjured hand through your hair in frustration. So, you grabbed some of the fur blankets off the bed and headed back to the living room. You curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, wrapping the blankets around you as you wrecked your mind trying to think of a way out of here. You know it felt familiar, you were starting to feel like you’d seen this place before, you just couldn’t put your finger on it just yet.

 Sprawled out across the tables in the library, the boys were surrounded by old documents, text and books. They had pulled out everything that had anything to do with sleeping, curses, cracks and witches. However, eight hours in, the boys had only a few notes on what possibly could by the course. There was nothing solid, there was nothing exact and unbeknownst to them, they were missing a vital piece of information.

Dean grunted in frustration as he threw a freshly read book away from him “It’s been hours and nothing” He scowled, rubbing at his scruff “When’s Rowena getting here?” He questioned, short and sharp.

Sam opened and closed his palms over the book her had open in front of him “She said she was wrapping something up and she’d be here as quickly as she could” He encouraged.

“Yeah well it’s not quick enough” Dean chided as he popped a cap off a fresh beer.

“Dean, we’re doing all we can” Sam tried to reason, gesturing to all the books around him “We’ll find a way to save her” He affirmed.

Dean just shook his head, both hands encasing the beer bottle “Yeah and what if we don’t?” He questioned, voice laced with emotion.

Sam just stared at Dean, trying to contain his frown but his lips going into a thin line. He looked away from his big brother, knowing that he was right but it was something he didn’t want to think about.

Dean noted Sam’s reaction and just nodded as he thumbed the label of his bottle. He wanted to be positive, he was trying his hardest to be but knowing your stuck somewhere without him, crushed his soul. He heard Sam started to tap away at his laptop, following up something from the latest book he was looking at but Dean just shook his head. He needed a break and he needed to see you again. He needed to rescue you and he couldn’t do that from out here.

“I’m going for a lie down” Dean suddenly announced, the wooden chair dragging across the floor as he did so.

Dean made his way to the entrance of the corridor, bringing the neck of the bottle to his lips as he devoured its contents. He needed to sleep.

“Wait, Dean, have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?” Sam called after him, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes.

Dean just rose his eyebrows “That something to do with being high?” He asked, wearing a befuddled expression.

“What? No Dean it’s where you can control your dreams” Sam shook his head, confusion littering his features as he tried to work out how his Dean’s mind worked sometimes. He pulled his notes together and held them out to Dean “Just take a look at this, it’s gonna take some practice but if you apply these methods before you go to sleep, you may be able to hang in there a little longer”

Dean took the notes from Sam’s hand and nodded. He took note of the look of hope in Sam’s eyes and he appreciated his effort. He lay his empty beer bottle down next to Sam before slapping his brother on the shoulder in thanks. Taking the paper in both hands, he flipped through the notes, noticing there were more than a couple of pages “I’m gonna need another drink” Dean muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. He could always count on Sam to give him an essay instead of the few points of knowledge he needed.

Grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the kitchen, Dean made his way to his room, the notes underarm. Sitting down on his bed, he poured himself a fresh glass of whiskey before starting on the notes. For something that sounded ludicrous to him, the idea of lucid dreaming started to appear very interesting. Then again, he’d do anything and try anything, to spend more time with you. An hour later, Dean had gone through the document twice over. Some of it was enough to send him into a deep sleep itself but he had highlighted some of the methods it took to take control over his dreams.

Leaning back on his bed, he extended and retracted his arms quickly before loosening his shoulders and settling back on his pillow. Closing his eyes, he sighed “Ok…lucid dreaming” he muttered “Let’s do this”

You were cuddled up on the sofa, watching the embers of the fireplace dancing through the air. You tried so hard to concentrate on why this place felt familiar to you. You’d never been in a cabin in a snowy bio-me before. Not one like this anyway. Had you seen it online maybe or in a holiday brochure? You lent your head against your good hand, tapping your skull with your fingers. You’d been in some predicaments before but this was something off the scale.

Three loud knocks echoed through the house which startled you off the sofa. You started, wide eyed at the door before backing away as you sore the door handle wiggle. You noticed the fire poke at the side of the cobblestone fire place and held it with both hands, it was better than nothing. Holding it strongly in front of you, you mentally prepared yourself for what was about to burst through the door.

With a loud creak, the log door swung open and you stood in shock, your weapon dropping loosely from your hand to the side of you. You had to blink several times to ensure that this was real, and not another figment of your imagination.

“Y/N” He whispered, his voice husky.

There he stood, Dean Winchester. His dark jeans, his red and black flannel shirt, his dark shirt. The green eyes and the relieved smile. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination, he was your Dean and he was here, standing six feet in front of you.  

Neither of you wasted anymore time as you rushed towards each other, your hands tight around his middle, your face buried in his chest. Dean’s arms wrapped around you tight. One arm around your middle, the other entwining itself in your hair as he placed his head on yours. His heart was racing a million miles an hour. He smelt your perfume, he felt your skin through your clothes, that you were real.

Your hands came around to ball against his chest, fisting his shirt. He smelt like Dean. Whiskey, mints and gunpowder. You had never been so grateful to be in his arms and you squeezed your hands even tighter. Dean smiled through his relived tears that were threatening to fall as he moved his hands to either side of your face.

He gently pulled you from his chest as he held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your free falling tears. His green eyes bore into yours “I thought I’d lost you” He whispered as he held your gaze, your heart pounding against your chest, butterflies turning your stomach. You just shook your head, unable through emotion to speak. On that, Dean just pulled your forehead to his lips and placed a firm but gentle kiss. A kiss that lingered before he rested his forehead against yours.  

Dean was fighting against every feeling he had. He kept glancing down at your lips but he was telling himself that it was just the emotions of being reunited with you after thinking you had died. Softly, he changed his stance and pulled you back into his chest, resting the side of his face on the top of your head. He never wanted to let you go.

“Please tell me I’m not imagining this?” You whispered into his flannel, your hands still fisted in tight balls.

Dean frowned as he pulled back away from you so he could see your face “Imagining? No Y/N it’s really me”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in relief and slowly released yourself from Dean’s grasp so you could look up into his eyes “Thank god” You sighed, your eyes closing. You moved to pick up the blankets that had fallen to the floor when you rushed to Dean “I’m ready to get the hell out of here. Where ever here is. Where were you guys?” You questioned “Where’s Sam?”

Dean proceeded to move a step closer to you, holding a hand up in confusion at what you’ve just said “Wait do you not remember how you got here? Do you remember anything about what happened?”

You shuffled back a bit, your head slightly tilting at Dean’s question. You could see he was worried about your confession. Shaking your head, you brought your hand up to curl into your hair “Do I remember what happened?” You repeated “I remember travelling in the impala with you and Sam, we were going to the bar, and then I wake up here” You take note of Dean’s throat bobbing as he took in your explanation. He dropped his head to the floor to avoid your gaze as he ran both hands over his face.

You grew concerned, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of your stomach “Dean” You voiced softly “What happened to me?”

Dean looked back at me, tears shining in his mossy eyes “We-”

“You know what, it doesn’t matter” You interrupted, not wanting to hear what he had to say. You wanted to go home. You wanted to deal with it at home. “All that matters is that you’re here and I’m gonna go home, right?” You fussed, walking towards the window of the cabin.

“Y/N” Dean said softly, his one arm reaching for you.

You moved the curtains out the way and frowned “Wait…where’s the impala?” You questioned turning to Dean.

He grew more and more concerned as he was starting to realise you had no idea where you were “Y/N…I” He started, his heart breaking for you.

“How did you get here? Did Cas zap you?” You quizzed, your Y/E/C eyes boring into Deans. You didn’t like how he was looking at you. You didn’t like the look he was wearing on his face. He had tears threatening to fall, the laughter lines weren’t there and he was still reaching out for you.

Slowly, Dean made his way to you, encasing both of your hands in his “Sweetheart, I need you to sit down” He spoke softly, as he guided you to the couch.

As you sat down, your eyes brimmed with tears “What’s going on De?” You urged.

Looking down at your encased hands, Dean confessed “We don’t know where you are or how I’m even here”

You scoffed, your brow furrowing “That’s ridiculous”  

Dean’s eyes snapped back to yours. He had to make you believe “I know it sounds crazy but it’s true. I’m pretty sure I’m lucid dreaming right now and for some reason, my dreams are connected to you”

You deepened your frown as you pulled your hands from Dean’s, rolling your eyes “Very funny Winchester. I’m cold and I’m bored. I’ve been stuck here for half a day and I’m ready to call it quits”

Dean shook his head in disbelief “Half a day? Sweetheart, you’ve been gone nearly two days”

You snapped, standing up off the couch away from Dean “Jokes getting old Dean. Come on, I want to go home” You whined.

Dean just stared into your eyes as he gently reached for your hands “Y/N, I need you to listen to me” He said softly, his voice husky as he attempted to pull you back down on the couch “You are home. In the bunker. You’re just…”

“What?” Your stomach flipped at Dean’s tone. He wasn’t lying. This wasn’t a ruse.

Dean looked up from your hands, hating the response he was having to give.

 “Unresponsive”

A/N - So...there we go! Really starting to snowball now...hope you’re ready for the ride! What did you think?

Any feedback would mean the absolute world to me so if you have the time, i’ll love you forever!

Also if you want to come along for the ride let me know - TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Shatter Me Taglist:

@squirrel-moose-winchester , @witch-of-letters , @flamencodiva , @couldabeenamermaid  ,  @31shadesofbrown  , @jamielea81

[curlygrant44]

do you get scared when you see fire?

"You can't have fire on a ship," he mutters, confused.

He hasn't seen fire since he left Earth-

An explosion isn't the same, that instant of impact his eyes couldn't even register, something searing hot filling the space around him faster than he could even process until his whole body, his everything, was encased in agony-

AB foam, or two-part foam, is a polyurethane foam created by mixing the two components which bubble up and solidify thanks to an exothermic reaction.

An exothermic reaction is a chemical process that generates heat.

When the cockpit was smashed in, the foam sealed it off to keep the atmosphere in but the amount deployed was proportional to the magnitude of the impact-

Not enough space.

Too much heat.

The burning, for what felt like an eternity, fading in and out of consciousness as agony became too much for his psyche to bear, only for his body to jolt itself back awake when his heart rate dropped too much.

He never had to suffer that. His body is still whole and unharmed.

But Curly remembers it still, because even if his body never suffered like that, the nightmares showed him how it felt anyway.

It's why he could never stand to talk to any of them.

He knows too much about how it must feel, and the sight of them, the knowledge that it could happen to him someday, is just too much for him.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Tapes

The Mystery Shack was quiet, a rare treat for the hectic household. Waddles was enjoying the silence, glad to be back in his old home. He enjoyed the scratches behind the ear from Mr. Pines and the belly-rubs from Mrs. Pines and the couch in the living room back in Piedmont, but the pig felt comforted by the sounds and smells of the cabin in the woods of Gravity Falls. It was like being hugged by an old friend or a family member unseen for too long. While he slept in the old armchair, the only human in the house sat on the floor, watching the pig sleep.

Ford shook his head and chuckled under his breath, craning his neck to look at Mabel's pet. It was cloudy outside, like it might rain soon, but for now the weather was dry. Ford turned to face front again, facing the TV, as he sat on the carpet with a big box out in front of him. At the end of last summer, when trying to help Stan regain his lost memories, Ford had dug out some old home-movies of the twins going on adventures, building the Stan O' War, and battling ghost pirates. When it was time to depart for the sea, in the chaos of it all, the film reels Ford had kept hidden away over the years had been haphazardly shoved into a box that was then tucked by the TV. Reorganizing the movies seemed like a nice task to take part in with everyone else in the Shack gone.

Carefully as to not ruin the tapes, Ford laid out each reel on the carpet and started to read the labels. Some were neatly written in his mother's handwriting, while others were quickly jotted down in Stan's chicken scratches or in Ford's little cursive writing. Quests to find the Jersey Devil, adventures to discover Atlantis, and progress of their beloved boat all laid out on either side of the old scientist, and Ford held his cleft chin with a six-fingered hand when his eyes averted back to the cardboard box and discovered VCR tapes.

Ford began to read the labels. Well, all the labels there were, anyways. Some of the tapes were blank and intrigued Ford the most, and so to discover what they were and how to best organize the home-videos, he randomly selected a tape and slipped it in the VCR player. He turned on the screen and pressed play on the player. After a quick second of nothing but static, Ford smiled at seeing his grandnephew sitting at the desk in the attic-bedroom that separated the younger twins' beds.

"Welcome to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained." The boy said, taking advantage of the night as he sat in his orange t-shirt and grey shorts. "Today, Gravity Falls' Anomaly #13: The Modius Chicken Strip."

Ford made himself comfortable, his knees up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs, as he watched the twelve-year-old give a small investigation about said chicken strip. It seemed like the kind of thing Ford would've done at Dipper's age. His mind began to wander when the Dipper on screen said,

"Well, that concludes Gravity Falls' Anomaly #13: The Modius Chicken Strip." He pulled the strip out of the basket and munched on it happily. "It's infinitely delicious."

Suddenly, catching Ford's attention, some small creature sped by the camera, knocking it over and sending playing cards all over the floor.

"Whoa! Hey! What the…? Ah!" Ford watched as Dipper aimed the camera at his sleeping twin sister. "Mabel, did you see that? Wake up!"

"Never. Let me sleep forever." Mabel moaned as she turned her back on her brother, making Ford chuckle. Yup, she was definitely related to Stan.

"Some creature just jumped out of nowhere!" Dipper explained. "It's eating out leftover Summerween candy!"

That got Mabel's attention. "What?!"

"Look!"

Ford peered at the screen as Dipper turned the camera to where a small monster was nestled inside an old tire and eating the children's Summerween candy. The scientist's eyes widened with wonder and disgust as he saw a…

"Ew, it's like a… naked little man." Mabel said it best and Ford privately agreed with her, its sharp teeth, beady red eyes and lack of sanity making it apparent that it wasn't human. Ford honestly didn't know what it was. A rabid gnome? A gremlin?

"Okay, this is now Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained, #76… uh, That Thing." Dipper announced to the camera as he showed a title card to the one-man audience.

Ford edged himself closer to the screen as Mabel tried to get the monster to drop the basket of candy, but he only licked it creepily and the static appeared again, but was soon replaced with Dipper wearing some sort of makeshift armor out of stuffed animals and had clubs and a trash can for weapons.

"I'm gonna capture him for science." Dipper said boldly.

"And for candy!" Mabel added from behind the camera. Sweet Lord, how similar were Mabel and Dipper to Stan and Ford?

"Get this on tape in case I die or whatever."

Ford laughed and watched with a smile on his face as Dipper slowly crept up to That Thing and tried to trap it. Using a club to edge the candy closer, he waited until the monster grab the treat and Dipper just barely missed it with his little trap. That Thing climbed up the ceiling, the bucket of candy in his sharp teeth, and Mabel tried to hit it with a stuffed toy that only fell back on her as she yelled, "Die, mutant, die!" The creature ran out of the bedroom and the twins followed, the camera losing focus for a moment as the kids ran down the stairs. That Thing pounced on Dipper when they reached the living room and the video cut to the monster sitting on top of the fridge. Eventually they chased it back into the living room to then have it be distracted to the TV. Ford laughed at the irony, seeing how he was just as drawn to the TV screen now as the monster was to whatever movie he was watching.

The film cut away and made Ford laugh again to find the children sitting and eating candy as they watched the movie with the monster, to whom Soos confused for Stan. That was the end of the tape and it soon poked out of the player. Ford rewind the tape as he looked for a new one to watch. That same pride he had for his nephew when he read the boy's entries in Journal 3, when Dipper saved him from the spaceship, and when Dipper graduated middle school last month returned strongly in Ford's chest. The same could be said for Mabel, too. The logical part of Ford told him to only glance at the tapes so he could know how to organize them best, but his softer side told him to enjoy watching the tapes he didn't know existed until three minutes ago.

The second tape showed Dipper holding the camera as he stood in town. "Alright, ah… welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Today we investigate Gravity Falls' Anomaly #82: This Guy." Dipper panned the camera to a balding man with a mustache reading a newspaper and sipping coffee in a bowling alley. He looked like he was an employee on his break. "Sure he looks normal, but if he's so normal explain why he's always facing left."

The video cut away to many shots of the man always facing left, and Ford had to admit that his behavior was very abnormal. He held his chin in thought as the man was so inclined to run and walk backward to avoid being seen by his right side.

"Literally, I've been following him around for weeks, and I've never once seen the right side of his face. And neither has anyone else." Dipper explained. "But why? Mabel. Theories?"

The camera panned to Mabel as she pulled out a bunch of drawings of their theories and narrated through them. "Theory One: he's hiding an embarrassing sunburn. Theory Two: half-man, half-lizardman. And Theory Three (my person favorite): he's normal, and Dipper's just crazy!"

"That's not a theory! That doesn't count as a theory!"

Mabel and Ford both laughed and Dipper walked into the bowling alley, giving Mabel control of the camera as he managed to convince the poor guy that it wasn't on. Dipper tried to get the guy to show his right side by passing shoes and giving Dipper his fallen wallet, but in the end it looked like the boy was going to give up, until the man was about to pick out a bowling ball and Dipper shoved him by the shoulder, revealing the right side. Ford gasped as half of a robotic man was missing, revealing little green jelly-like creatures that committed suicide as soon as their cover was blown. The robot was disassembled, caught fire, and set off the sprinklers in the bowling alley.

"Well, that concludes anomaly #82!" Dipper said as he and his sister ran for their lives. "Uh, I think we might wanna burn this tape!"

Ford shook his head, seeing how the boy must have forgotten to, and he rewind it before selecting another tape. The old scientist had seen many things in his inter-dimensional travels and within the magnetism of Gravity Falls, but anomaly number eight-two might be best left alone. Regardless, he had no intention of burning the tape. Ford picked another tape at random and slipped it into the VCR player. He chuckled at seeing Dipper's abnormally-large head being crushed by his sister's fingers.

"Hello, I'm Dipper Pines. The girl trying to crush my head in Mabel."

"I'm helping!"

"Today on Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained - okay that, that's enough - today, we investigate Anomaly #23: Grunkle Stan's Secret Tattoo."

Ford's heart sunk uncomfortably as the camera panned to a board full of Stan's back and shoulder and ideas of what the hidden symbol could be. Clearly, Stan was very careful to not let anyone see it, and today the children were going to try to figure out why and what it was.

"What is he hiding? A college prank? Secret symbol? Or something stranger?" Dipper asked the camera. "Stan claims it doesn't exist, but today we're gonna find out."

Ford was deaf to Mabel trying to show what was under her bandage as he thought about the "tattoo". Stan's scar was a painful reminder of everything Ford had done to him, of all the things Ford did to his brother over the years, like refusing to thank him after saving him from the Nightmare Realm, letting him live on the streets for ten years, and erasing his mind. He had called Stan up to Gravity Falls, he had demanded Stan take the first journal and get as far away as possible, he had refused to let Stan destroy the book, and he had kicked Stan into the hot symbol, burning through his clothes, killing his flesh, and leaving him tagged like an animal.

Ford rewind the tape when he saw Dipper hiding on the roof from an angry uncle and picked up another tape to watch. He had just pulled out the tape with Stan's scar when the door opened and closed and Waddles perked up. Mabel came into view and the pig ran into her arms. She giggled at having her cheek licked and hugged her pet tightly.

"Hi, Waddles. Did you have a nice nap?" Mabel looked up and her smile grew. "Hey, Grunkle Ford! Whatcha doin'?"

"Hello, Mabel." Ford greeted as he carefully stacked the already-watched tapes and picked out a new one to watch. Hopefully the next one wouldn't shove his mistakes back in his face. "I'm organizing these videos."

"Oo!" Mabel said and put Waddles down, who retreated back to the armchair and curled up for a nap.

The brunette pulled put out a blue sweater-in-the-making, some yarn, and a pair of needles from behind the armchair and sat next to Ford on the floor. The old scientist smiled down at his grandniece and started the next video.

"Welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Anomaly #54: The Mailbox."

Mabel's eyes widened and she gasped, "You found Dipper's tapes! Hey, I remember when we found that mailbox."

"You do?" Ford asked as Dipper explained how the mailbox had no house or address.

Mabel nodded and scooted closer to Grunkle Ford as she knitted a sweater. Ford smiled, sat with his legs crossed, and had Mabel in his lap as they watched Soos slip a letter into the mailbox. Mabel looked up to see Ford's shocked expression when the tail of the mailbox lifted on it's own and a new letter was inside the mailbox. The thirteen-year-old girl laughed and continued to watch Dipper and Soos test the mailbox.

"What did I shave into my head this morning? 'A baby duck holding a paddle ball.' Dude! It knew!"

"What?!"

"Ask it more questions!"

"When is the end of the world? '3012'. Huh, we got awhile."

"Who's my dream-woman? Whoa! Hot tamales! Save that one for the archives…"

"What is the exact time and date of my death?"

"Did aliens built the pyramids?"

"Or… what is the meaning of life?"

"What are marshmallows made out of?"

"Or… who wrote Journal #3?!"

"Who wrote the journal?! WHO WROTE THE JOURNAL?!"

Ford's face suddenly felt hot as his nephew said, "We're finally gonna get the answer to the greatest mystery in Gravity Falls!"

Mabel laughed over the tape of her destroying the mailbox by trying to mail a video of her shoving gummy worms up her nose at remembering her twin's old obsession. "Oh, man! I almost forgot how crazy Dip-Dip was to find you! He spent half of last summer obsessing over who wrote the journal."

Ford smiled gently at remembering the excitement Dipper had when he first met his great-uncle. While Mabel had happily shaken his hand, claiming his extra finger made it more friendlier than normal, Dipper had nearly thrown up over discovering who the Author of the Journals was. Not only that, but the author was a family member - his long-lost Great Uncle Stanford - and would grow closer to him as time went on.

Ford rewinded the tape and looked down at Mabel pleasantly. "I can imagine it was thrilling to have such a big mystery solved."

Mabel nodded. "At first we thought it was Old Man McGucket, but then we found a memory that explain that he was your assistant. We kinda hit a roadblock after that, but I know Dipper never stopped thinking about it, even if he was dealing with Time Baby, an angry Love God, or a level-ten ghost." Mabel picked up a tape and said, "Let's watch this one next!"

Ford let her slip it into the machine since the episode about the mailbox was done resetting, and they watched an episode in which Dipper and Mabel tried to find The Hide Behind. Ford let out a soft "ah" when he recognized the page in Journal 3 that told of a "mysterious creature always just out of sight". First, Dipper did some interviews to confirm from locals if The Hide Behind was real or not.

"The Hide Behind?" Manly Dan asked and Ford smiled fondly at seeing who had once been a teenager and built his home was now a grown man with his own kids, three of which was cutting a tall tree down behind the lumberjack. "Oh, he's real alright, REAL AS MY BEARD!"

"I remember Boyish… I mean, Manly Dan." Ford told the girl in his lap. "He and his father built this house. Well, mostly he built the house. Dav Corduroy wasn't as young as he once was, but Dan was more than up to the task."

"Wendy's dad built the Shack?!" Mabel gasped.

"Yup." Ford chuckled.

"Dad…"

"It's comin' down!"

"DADDY'S DOING A MOVIE!"

Dan yelled without even looking behind him as a tree was falling and threatened to crash his house. "He's doing a movie now…"

Ford and Mabel both laughed as the tree fell on top of their house and then the video cut to an interview with Lazy Susan. A flash of lightning and then the sound of thunder occurred while the pair of Pines watched the home-video of Lazy Susan spinning and Grunkle Stan grunting that the people of Gravity Falls were literally the dumbest people in the world. Literally. And to prove a point, the video cut back to Lazy Susan pointlessly spinning on one spot.

By the time the video about The Hide Behind had ended, it was raining hard outside. The drops of water drummed on the roof and the thunder and lightning were distant enough that they were not afraid of a disaster occurring and could enjoy the sights and sounds of the summer storm. Ford and Mabel both awed at the dark figure that hid behind Dipper as he walked away. Ford's eyes were as wide as saucers and he grinned.

"Incredible! Dipper managed to get the Hide Behind on camera!"

"Wait until Dipping Sauce finds out!" Mabel said gleefully.

While Ford rewinded the tape, Mabel suddenly jumped up and ran off. Soon the sweet smell of popcorn wafted from the kitchen and into the living room, and Mabel soon came back with a big bowl of popcorn.

"What good is watching movies without snacks?" Mabel asked as she held up the bowl to her Grunkle Ford.

He smiled. "I agree, my dear. Thank you." He popped some pieces into his mouth and the teenager resumed her spot on his lap and continued to work on her blue sweater.

Ford inserted the tape just as the door opened and closed once more. Dipper walked in, wet from the trip home, and pulled his blue journal out of his vest to make sure it was dry. He sighed with relief to find that it was, looked at his family in the living room, and said, "Hey guys, what are you watching?"

The teenager's eyes widened when he saw himself appear on the screen.

"Welcome to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Anomaly #42: The Tooth."

"Oh, no!" Dipper panicked, his hands over his signature pinetree hat, the hat he had traded with Wendy when he left last summer and had gotten back when the twins arrived back in Gravity Falls. "No, no no!"

"C'mon, Dipper!" Mabel whined as the camera panned to giant tooth, scaled by Mabel.

The video then cut to Dipper playing the tuba. The boy groaned and held his face, covering his eyes, as Ford marveled at his grandnephew playing an instrument by the lake.

"You play the tuba?" Grunkle Ford observed and turned to find Dipper clearly uncomfortable. A bit confused as to what the boy was embarrassed about, Ford said, "Don't worry, Dipper. I can play the piano."

"You can?" Mabel awed as she watched the screen and saw her twin brother examine the giant tooth.

"Your great-grandmother taught me before Pa made Stanley and I take boxing lessons." Ford explained and cringed. He made himself promise to never refer to Ma as a great-grandmother again; it made him feel too old.

The video cut to Tate McGucket in his tackle-shop as Dipper and Mabel interviewed him. Dipper sat in the armchair with Waddles and petted the pig to give him something to do other than watch in humiliation.

Ford stared and pointed to the TV. "Wait, is that Fiddleford's son? Tater?"

Mabel nodded. Sweet Lord, the four-year-old boy was all grown up. A man now. Yes, Ford was well aware he had been gone for thirty years, but to see Dan and Tate had changed so much really showed how much time has passed. Then again, they weren't the only people to have changed. Pa was gone, Ma was now a great-grandmother, Shermie had grandchildren for crying out loud! Shermie's son, whom Ford had seen as a baby when he was in high-school, had children of his own. So much time had passed in the long years Ford had roamed the dimensions after the incident. He became so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn't catch Mabel's response to his question.

"Yeah! He's a nice guy! Isn't he living with McGucket now?"

"That's what I heard." Dipper said from the armchair.

Ford nodded in agreement, having heard from his Fiddleford recently, and the old scientist tried to focus on the home-video.

"I'm here at the lake to investigate. I brought Mabel for backup."

"And I brought Bear-O, my adorable childhood puppet! Hey-Oh! Ain't that right, honey? 'Did somebody say "honey"?!' Haha!"

"Nope. Creepy. Bear-O's creepy. Everyone hates Bear-O."

"'But Dipper, who could hate Bear-O?'"

Mabel had asked in her Bear-O voice.

"I can think of a few people."

While the screen showed just how much people hated Bear-O, Mabel glanced up to see what her Grunkle Ford thought of her childhood puppet. She grinned, mistakenly taking his look of disgust for a look of delight, and said,

"Aw, see, Dipper?" The brunette said. "Grunkle Ford doesn't hate Bear-O!"

Dipper was too busy sitting in misery to argue as he watched the pair of twins paddling out onto the lake, thankfully without the creepy bear.

"Mabel, I have seen many disturbing things among my travels across the multiverse," Ford narrated. "Very little makes my skin crawl anymore, but somehow Bear-O has managed it."

"Thank you, Grunkle Ford!" Dipper sighed.

"Boo!" Mabel yelled as she resumed her knitting and watch as bubbles started to come up from the lake.

"Dipper, look!"

"They're over by that island!"

Ford leaned forward a little to see if his old theory of a giant head being disguised as an island was true. He had never taken the time to fully investigate, the idea coming to him in the midst of building the portal, but now he wondered if he was going to receive some answers thanks to his niece and nephew.

"We have to see what happens. What was that?" The camera glitched and something was rumbling. "Oh, no! What's happening?!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! ROW, ROW, ROW!"

Ford, Mabel and Dipper watched as the camera was sat in front of Dipper, facing him and the island, and watched as it emerged from the lake and yelled in a horrible voice; the island was in fact a giant floating head with a missing tooth.

"HOLY MOSES!" Ford yelled in shock.

"IT'S GETTING CLOSER! KEEP ROWING!" The camera glitched and soon the little audience saw Dipper looking for the camera. "I dunno. I've been looking for... there it is."He picked it up and explained, "Okay, after it attacked us, that giant head-thing just sunk back into the lake, and it lost another one of it's teeth trying to eat our boat! But the important thing is, we survived. Barely."

"Huh, yeah… 'Did somebody say "Bear-ly"?'"

Ford and Dipper both yelled in horror and Mabel scowled as she worked on her sweater angrily. Ford rewinded the tape and caught the sound of his nephew groaning in misery. He turned as much as he could with Mabel in his lap to find Dipper shielding his eyes as much as his hat could.

"Why did you have to look at those stupid tapes?" He groaned, embarrassed that his old idol had seen his amateur Guide to the Unexplained.

"Dipper, I thought you made those videos to show people the weird stuff or whatever." Mabel said as she worked. "Why are you getting so embarrassed over it?"

"I dunno, I just…" Dipper lifted his hat a little to uncover his eyes and he hugged his knees as he sat in the armchair with Waddles. "It's nothing but stupid aggression of an adolescent. I guess… I guess when I made them I never thought that one of the greatest investigators of anomalies would ever watch them."

Ford watched the teenager carefully and something dawned on him, something that nearly made him throw up. When Ford returned to his home dimension, he had his journals in his possession. He had opened Journal 3 and assumed that he'd skip a page or two from where he left off and resume documenting his research and findings in it, but he had found that his nephew had written and drawn on it. At the time, Ford was immensely angry about everything changing and needed to vent, so he passed off Dipper's recordings as pointless diary entries and spent all night spilling his aggravations onto the pages.

Dipper and Mabel only had the journal a handful of times after that. Ford had asked Mabel to record what she had discovered about unicorns and then Ford gave all three of the journals to Dipper to "look after them" while he hunted down the Mothman for some money he owed him, when in actuality Ford wanted to thank the boy for his loyalty and understanding by letting him look at his recordings, completely forgetting the harsh judgment he had indirectly delivered to Dipper by saying that being a twin was the only thing they had in common. If Dipper hadn't read Ford's rant then he most definitely did when the journal was restored and found just before summer ended.

Obviously, things were different than that first night Ford was home. Dipper and Ford had grown to be very close and the old scientist saw just how similar they were. It was a shame that Dipper never had a chance to read what Ford had written about his nephew before they threw the book into the Bottomless Pit. Ford had taken the time to read Dipper's last passage and wrote his own farewell, which contained something that Ford had mistakenly never taken the time to tell the young man. Ford had hoped that the old feeling of needing to earn his approval had died months ago, but clearly Dipper still felt the need to prove himself worthy to his hero. Ford was determined to make sure that Dipper knew that his fears were unfounded.

"Dipper," Ford said softly and the thirteen-year-old looked up at him. "I… I am flattered that you think so highly of me, but please understand that I hold you in the highest regard. You are far wiser at thirteen than I was at thirty and have a bright future ahead of you. And, for what it's worth, I'm very proud of you and your work, and I'm glad you recorded it so I could see it."

Dipper pressed his lips together and Ford was uncertain if he was trying to hold back a squeal or tears. He somewhat got his answers when Dipper wiped his stinging eyes with his arm and cleared his throat. "Th-Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

Ford gave him an encouraging smile and turned back to the VCR when it ejected the tape. "Unfortunately, this is the last one. Shame really, I've really enjoyed Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained."

"Let's make another one!" Mabel cried out and turned to Dipper. "What do you say, Dipper? What anomaly number should we work on?"

Dipper opened his journal and turned to the latest page. "I think I have just the oddity…"

"Hello! I'm Dipper Pines, here with one of the greatest investigators of anomalies of all time and achiever of twelve PhDs, Dr. Stanford Pines!"

"Thanks for the introduction, Dipper."

"Hey, how come I don't get one?!"

"Mabel, you're so spontaneous that you don't need one."

"I'll take that as a compliment!"

"Today we're here to investigate Anomaly #168: the Mothman. He owes Grunkle Ford some money and has been avoiding him ever since."

"But today we're gonna make that creepy bug pay him back! No one cheats a Pines!"

"You are definitely Stanley's niece."

[johnnymundano]

The VVitch (2015)

Directed by Robert Eggers

Written by Robert Eggers

Music by Mark Korven

Country: United States/Canada

Language: English

Running Time: 93 minutes

CAST

Anya Taylor-Joy as Thomasin

Ralph Ineson as William

Kate Dickie as Katherine

Harvey Scrimshaw as Caleb

Ellie Grainger as Mercy

Lucas Dawson as Jonas

Julian Richings as The Governor

Bathsheba Garnett as Witch

Sarah Stephens as Young Witch

Charlie as Black Phillip (goat form)

Wahab Chaudhry as Black Phillip (voice, human form)

Axtun Henry Dube and Athan Conrad Dube as Samuel

Uncredited appearance by Spooky Rabbit

(Alas, malefic forces conspired to prevent screengrabs, so I was driven to sin and pilfered from IMDB)

The Witch (or The VVitch if you are pedantically minded) is not an easy movie to warm to and it is no easy ride but it is very, very good. The VVitch (I’m pedantically minded, today anyway) is set in the 1630s and its austere events revolve slowly but menacingly around an English Puritan family who have emigrated to New England. (Bloody immigrants, ey? Oh, it’s okay when they are your white European ancestors, I see.) Life being hard enough as it is, back before Netflix and Doritos, it’s no surprise that life gets even harder when stubborn William (a slowly eroding Ralph Ineson) yanks his family out of the settlement to go it alone due to some theological separatist business or other. Before you can say “That’s a really bad idea, William. And that goat of yours looks a bit of a wrong ‘un too.”, he and his clan have struck out and set down on the edge of an ominous forest, wherein dwells, so ‘tis said, a witch…

…or maybe there isn’t. The VVitch is one of those movies that presents itself and allows you to interpret it according to taste. Could be there is a witch and she seeks to destroy the family via her magicks, satanic familiars and delicious temptations. Or maybe the family is its own worst enemy and we are watching their disintegration under the implacable pressure of isolation in black concert with religious dogmatism. Or one of the family could have cracked under the strain and is, unbeknownst even to themselves, working to undo the family’s fabric and sanity. Or a combination of all of those, or even something else entirely. There’s evidence to support all those and everyone will have a favoured interpretation of the diabolic happenings onscreen, but I’m sure there would be few would gainsay the harrowing bleakness on show.

Because, Odd’s bodkins!, The VVitch is a doggedly desolate vision of the lives of white European settlers. Robert Eggers’ resolute attempt at historical verisimilitude may be a bit of a slap in the face to an audience more used to movies presenting people in the past as being, well, basically us; but in funny costumes and with, at a push, a softly rococo approach to the verbals (a bit of “Thee”-ing and “Thou”-ing like an old Jack Kirby/Stan Lee Thor comic, in essence). Up for a challenge old Robert Eggers has boldly decided to go for a lop-sided balance between historical accuracy and accessibility, which errs on the accuracy side for once.  What this means is not only do the characters talk in a prolix Biblical way (“She desires of my blood. She sends 'em upon me. They feed upon her teats, her nether parts. She sends 'em upon me.”) but they also retain their native accents. This means many people outside Britain will be wondering what “Thart na gud’t chuppin’ wud, kneevar!” means (“Thou art no good at chopping woood, neither.”); I exaggerate for effect but still it was a pleasant experience hearing settlers speak in the tongue of my region, rather than like Tom Cruise or The Queen or something (ahr sumthin’). As for everyone outside Britain – that’s why God invented subtitles, dearheart.

Yes, God. The existence of whom is in no doubt, at least in the minds of this band of Puritan sufferers. And what a God they worship! He’s a hard God alright. Not a lot of smiles in this family’s life and very little sunshine in their worship. They beseech and they plead and every disaster is seen as proof of their unworthiness. It’s altogether too masochistic and forlorn a faith to help given their isolation and the unfolding nightmare they inhabit. A little love would go a long way, you feel. Which is the real sorrow at play here, since there is love here, for each other, for the land and even for their distant and unforgiving God. If the besieged family in The VVitch were able to express that love a little more warmly, a little more openly there might be a hope in this Hell.    

The VVitch is a moody beauty of a movie. It’s a handsomely gloomy production softly thrumming with an elegant mood of implacable disaster, blessed by sublime performances which succeed in humanising characters whose time and context would render them unknowable in lesser hands. Even more impressive, The VVitch manages to make a stationary rabbit look spookier than Jason Voorhees standing over your bed. The VVitch is good stuff.

[dramaticironyoflife]

The Cake Incident - (Sanders Sides)

I was feeling sad so I wrote a Sanders Sides fic about good ‘ol Pat-Pat making a cake...or...trying to. I am such a sucker for fluff so I apologize for the fluffiness. You have been warned.

Patton was in the kitchen, twisting the edge of his apron around his fingers. Logan had told him, repeatedly, that he was not to do anything in the kitchen without his supervision. The moral side shifted around a few times. He’d been having a rough week. Roman had been late coming home from a quest and, when he had finally stumbled in, he had needed patching up. Virgil had been slightly distant the whole week and, while Patton was proud of him for learning to cope with his own problem healthily, he missed him. Logan himself had been extra busy with planning and scheduling. Patton considered Logan’s order. He’d given it a few weeks ago, though! Surely Patton could be trusted now. He’d only needed Logan to intervein seven times in the past three weeks. Of course, Logan had done most of the cooking in the past three weeks but that was beside the point. The determined puff-ball straightened his glasses and opened the cupboard. He arched up on his tippy-toes and grabbed the large cook book off the top shelf. He lowered it carefully onto the counter and let it fall open. He looked at the recipe that stared back at him. It was in Roman’s curly handwriting and read: “The Perfect Chocolate Cake to Wake Up Your Cursed Princess With” it sounded Pattonly Perfect. With a smile and a hop, Patton set about preparing the dessert. All was going smoothly until he got to the sugar. He looked skeptically at the amount in the recipe. He bit his lip and then decided to add just a tiny bit more sugar. Nothing much. Just a half a cup. Satisfied with the improvement, Patton turned sharply to grab the next ingredient and knocked into the carton of eggs. Two of the large eggs tumbled from the counter and broke on the floor. Patton gasped slightly and bent to pick up the shells. He grabbed a few napkins and quickly swiped up the mess. The floor would be slippery, but he promised himself he’d mop it later. Problem taken care of he resumed his baking.

“Hey, Pat?” The moral side started at the unexpected greeting and dumped some coco powder in the process. Virgil flinched at realizing that he’d startled the fatherly figment, but Patton shot him a big smile.

“Hey, Verge!” He grinned, “Didn’t see ya there!” Virgil smirked in spite of himself.

“Just wanted you to know that Roman and I are going into the Imagination. He wants me help him with his ‘Spooky Forest’.” Patton’s brow drew together.

“That sounds…safe?” He tried. The Anxious boy chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Patton, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.” He waved at the side before stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. Patton nodded and waved back. As Virgil disappeared, he allowed himself to smile tiredly. He was so happy that his Kiddos were getting along now. It was such a weight off his shoulders, no more big fights to break up. Patton shook his head to rid it of those thoughts. He had no reason to think so selfishly! He was happy because Roman and Virgil were happy. That was all. He nodded at the much more positive sounding reasoning and then yawned. He was a little sleepy, he guessed but he had a cake to finish! Recalling this, he carefully poured the batter into a greased pan and slid it into the oven. He glanced at the clock and made a mental calculation as to the time his prize would be done. Seemed like it’d be done in about an episode and a half of his cartoon of choice. A smile lit up his features as he turned and walked out to the living room. He sat down on the couch and turned on the TV.

               The smell of something burning woke Patton. He sniffed before sitting bolt upright. His eyes widened as he saw the smoke in the kitchen. He rushed out and grabbed the oven mitts. The cake was ruined. Patton looked sadly at the disaster and sniffed slightly. Tears wanted to come but he blinked hard. This wasn’t something to cry over! He was just being silly! With a forced chuckle, he stood and walked towards the counter to set the cake down. He slipped. The pan went flying into the air and landed with a loud clash on the floor next to Patton. Now he couldn’t stop the waterworks. He tried to muffle the noise with his hand and so missed the sound of frantic feet on the stairs.

“Patton? Is that you? I heard a -” Logan stopped mid-sentence and looked at the man on the floor, “-ruckus.” He finished. Patton looked up at him with watery eyes and saw Logan’s eyes dart back and forth, taking in the scene and drawing conclusions. The logical side sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What have I told you,” he asked slowly, making Patton flinch, “about cooking or baking alone?” Patton tried to answer, he really did, but his lip wobbled, and he sobbed as soon as his mouth opened. Logan looked at him alarm. He hadn’t intended to make Patton cry!

“I’m so s-sorry, L-lo!” It seemed that the moral side had finally found his voice. Logan carefully approached the sob-story and lowered himself down onto floor, trying not to think of the flour, cake crumbs, and coco powder that would be all over his outfit.

“Patton? Are you hurt?” Patton’s safety in the moment was the priority. A small shake of the head confirmed that Patton had sustained no injuries. Logan assessed the situation again. The cake on the floor was unsavable, but Patton must’ve already been under some distress as he’d ruined cakes before and never had so sensitive a reaction. He cautiously raised an arm and slipped it over Patton’s shoulders. He hoped this would have some positive effect, he was at a loss as to what to do if it didn’t. Thankfully, the mood seemed to lighten significantly. Patton leaned against Logan and let a few more tears slip out. Logan shifted to allow his emotional friend more comfort in their current position. “Do not be distressed.” He instructed, “This is an easily rectifiable situation.”

He allowed Patton to sit for a few more moments before he urged them both up. He directed Patton to make hot chocolate (one of the only recipes he could make without becoming too impulsive about it) while Logan made quick work of putting the kitchen back in order.

“Now,” he clapped his hands together, “let us make a cake.” Patton stared at him with surprise. Logan? Encouraging the creation of cake? He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and boldly marched up to his spectacled companion.

“Open your mouth.” He demanded. Logan blinked.

“What?”

“Open your mouth! I need to make sure you don’t have a snake tongue!” Logan looked baffled before understanding dawned his features and then slight frustration.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Patton, Deceit does not-” Patton stuck his lower lip out in determination and Logan breathed heavily through his nose before letting his jaw fall open. The moral side inched closer to look critically at the pink tongue. He grasped Logan’s chin carefully to accommodate for the other’s greater height. Logan rolled his eyes wearily and shifted uncomfortably. Patton stepped back and smiled up at his friend.

“You’re good!”

“That’s subjective.”

“Yep, definitely my Lo-Lo!”

“Please refrain from calling my that.”

The small talk went back and forth as Logan assisted Patton in beginning a new recipe. He made sure that Patton measured the ingredients correctly and kept him from adding too many extra ingredients. The logical side also took charge of the oven to ensure his own sanity as well as Patton’s safety. Time seemed to fly for Patton who was enjoying himself to the full, even when he pouted at Logan’s restrictions on the different candy’s he could add to the cake. He stared proudly at the two cooling treats and hummed happily as he licked the icing off the beater. His legs swung back and forth from his perch on the counter. Logan stood a few feet away, folding whipped cream into the frosting with a spatula. Patton wished that someone had been there to capture the moment. It was so rare to get Logan to team up with any of them, especially to do something enjoyable. The clink of the metal mixing bowl being set down fully on the counter snapped his attention back to the present.

“Ready to assemble the cake?” Logan asked. Patton nodded and jumped down. He paused,

“Can we put Crofters in between the layers?” Logan’s eyes lit up and a pleasant smile graced his features.

“I believe that is an acceptable idea. Might I recommend strawberry or raspberry? It will compliment the chocolate wonderfully.” Patton clapped and took the jars out of the cupboard.

“We’ll do half strawberry and half raspberry, and it’ll be the berry best cake ever!” He giggled as Logan groaned slightly but grabbed two frosting spreaders accordingly.

They finished the cake smoothly and Patton covered the final layer of frosting with sprinkles. He placed it on the center of the table and smiled proudly at it. The frosting flipped up in the areas that Patton had done while Logan’s spots had a smooth pattern made by the strokes of his spatula. It had personality; Patton decided. Logan was already cleaning up the second mess they’d made when Patton hugged him excitedly. Logan dropped a dish into the sink full of soapy water in surprise. The water splashed onto his tie and he sighed. He carefully patted Patton’s hands in acknowledgment of his gesture. With a final squeeze, Patton pulled away, smiling up at his logical friend.

“Thank you for baking a cake with me, Logan.” The sincerity of the statement was seen in Patton’s eyes and Logan allowed himself a small smile as he nodded in response.

“Certainly, Patton. I am most willing to assist you. Next time, please tell me what you desire so I can plan accordingly.” Patton twisted his apron around his fingers again as he battled internally with his next request.

“Logan?” He finally asked. The logical facet hummed in response, having returned to the sudsy task of washing the dishes. “Would you like some cake? We could watch one of those nifty documentaries you like…please?” Logan’s thoughts were almost loud enough to be heard. Patton could guess that he was going through the many tasks he still wished to accomplish and he waited anxiously for an answer. At last, Logan turned to him,

“I have rearranged my schedule to accommodate for a break. Allow me to complete washing these dishes and we will begin the social activity.” Patton giggled and clapped before rushing to the cupboard to dig out the plates.

After a short argument about who should cut the cake, how big the slices should be, and an agreement to watch a documentary on why dogs were considered man’s best friend, Patton fell asleep against Logan’s shoulder. The logical side hadn’t noticed until Patton’s heavy weight landed on him. He looked down in surprise and noticed the strained look on his fellow side. He quietly attempted to determine a solution to his situation when a flash caught his attention. Virgil, phone in hand, snapped another photo. Roman was already heading towards the cake.

“Virgil, stop that immediately! Roman, don’t eat the whole cake! No, that is still much to large a portion size!” Logan growled in a low but clear voice, no reason to wake Patton. Roman rolled his eyes,

“Fine, Mom.” Virgil snorted as Logan arched an eyebrow. The emo sauntered over to the table and stole the large slice that Logan had disapproved of from Roman and began to shovel it into his mouth, staring at Logan the whole time.

“You’re going to get diabetes.” Logan warned but Virgil only shrugged.

“We’re all dying anyway, might as well have fun with it.” Logan facepalmed. Roman took his own, slightly smaller piece and sat down on the other side of Logan. Virgil crawled up on the side table and made himself comfortable. Logan sighed again while Roman chuckled in amusement. Virgil made a face, nearly making the fanciful side choke on laughter and cake. Logan scolded Virgil,

“Do you want to wake Patton?” He hissed at the two of them. As if aware he was the subject of conversation, Patton shifted and moved closer to Logan. The three conscious sides froze in anticipation. Roman wished he’d gotten a photo of Virgil’s panicked look from the fear that he’d actually woken the older side. Patton sighed and then stilled. Relief flowed into the room.

Silence reigned for a while then. Logan, accepting his fate, conjured a book and began to read. A snore caught his attention. He looked towards Roman and raised his arm just in time to keep the royal side from falling on his book. Instead, the creative side’s head landed in his lap. Virgil somehow managed to grab Roman’s empty plate and fork before they could stain the carpet. He took them to the kitchen before returning and taking another picture. Logan huffed in annoyance.

“You’re not going to help me, are you?” Virgil smirked,

“Nope” He confirmed, popping the ‘p’ to drive home his point. He pocketed his phone before wandering over to Patton and climbing onto the sofa behind him. “Night, Specs.” He yawned.

“It’s not night time.” Logan pointed out, clearly confused, but he got no response. He sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day and looked at the other sides. He really had to review his lecture on proper sleeping schedules, clearly he would have to give it again soon.

I have a special place in my heart for the Sanders Sides so there are going to be many more fics where this came from.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander. This is a complete work of fiction and as such is an entirely fabricated tale created in my imagination.

These next few chapters follow Jamie and Claire as they travel first to Aberdeen and then other places across Hong Kong in search of members of the Rising Dragons’ Triad in the hope of locating the Dragon Head … Sun Yee Lok.  

*Manip - @artistsassenach

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: Jamie and Claire’s reunion is unfortunately interrupted and Superintendent Zheng has reservations about James Fraser.

 CHAPTER 10 (S) Claire Beauchamp was frozen to the place where she stood … trapped with her back against the hallway table. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to for she was Jamie’s willing captive. Expelling a breath, she wished he would draw back a little since she was having difficulty in thinking coherently … but it was a double-edged sword because Claire also wanted him closer at the same time. James Fraser’s smell invaded her senses; her breathing was shallow and her heartbeats accelerated heightening her anticipation of what he would do next. As if hearing her silent plea, Jamie removed one hand from the table; but drew his fingers lightly down Claire’s thigh to her knee, then back up again. Struggling to ignore the heat building in her stomach, she tried to concentrate but was fighting a losing battle.  His eyes pierced her own in such an intense way that Claire could not look away.  All she could do was feel the delicious, tactile glide of Jamie’s hand across the fabric of her sweat pants but wishing it was against her naked skin.  A wry smirk slowly appeared on his mouth at her reaction to his touch for James Fraser knew exactly what he was doing. All of a sudden she felt some dampness in her panties when the heat of Jamie’s palm slid more boldly down her leg drawing enticing but distracting patterns along her thigh. Unable to fight the feelings exacerbated by his touch, she shifted, easing her legs slightly apart to give him plenty of room. Their eyes met and held. Claire had little trouble whatsoever discerning the meaning of his actions for James Fraser stared at her mouth like a starving man thirsting for water. So powerful was his hypnotic gaze, that she felt the caress of his lips even without any tangible connection. She’d fallen under his spell and although her thoughts were centred hopefully on what was to come, she muttered feebly, “Oh! … Umm … Thanks for the flowers Ja-mie … they … were beautiful.” “You’re beautiful, mo nighean donn,” he replied, as he dipped his head and nuzzled the side of Claire’s neck with intent. Jamie’s Scottish brogue was so much more apparent when they were alone like this than when he was in Section mode and his words washed over her like a caress. “What? ... What does that mean?”

“My brown haired lass,” Jamie replied splaying his fingers through her tresses.

Her heart suddenly accelerated. “O-oh,” she uttered loving the way those words rolled off his tongue.

However, in his mind’s eye, Jamie suddenly saw flashes of the dead body of Annalise de Marillac, and he couldn’t rid his mind of her disturbing likeness to Claire and the dead woman’s involvement with the Rising Dragons. This was a dangerous mission, for this Triad was cold-blooded and deadly. If the truth be known he was concerned for Claire’s safety even though he knew she could look after herself. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With his thigh nestled between her legs, Jamie pulled her closer to his body and tightening his embrace began a slow seduction.

A rush of breath left Claire’s mouth when Jamie’s tongue nailed the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck. She shivered with the sensation of his caress to her flushed skin and tipping her head to the side, gave him further access to her flesh. Jamie knew exactly where to touch her that would have the greatest effect on her sanity. Erotically nipping at her skin with his teeth he then soothed the spot with his tongue again and again. Claire sighed happily when Jamie’s determined fingers gently massaged her inner thigh while at the same time his addictive lips left wonderful little love nips along the column of her throat. Unable to resist the onslaught of Jamie Fraser’s attack, Claire tightened her grip on the edge of the table as her body began to fall apart. He tongued the hollow of her throat and lathed it sensually against her skin.  Moaning his name out loud, Claire tipped her head back and thrust her breasts forward willing Jamie to touch her, to cup the weight of her breasts in his palm and to take her in his mouth. Raising his head Jamie looked down at Claire’s flushed face with passion filled eyes now changed to a deep smoky hue. He pried her fingers from the table and lifted her arms over her head, but just as he was about to remove her tank top the ringing of the doorbell startled them halting his actions. “Damn!” Claire muttered disappointment dripping from her words and closing her eyes she nestled her head against Jamie’s chest willing whoever was at her door to beat a hasty retreat.

“Oh, no! Go away!” she admonished in her brain. 

Jamie pulled back to look down at her. “Expecting someone else?” he asked amusingly.

Managing a weak smile Claire shook her head. It was probably her dinner. She had completely forgotten about the pizza order from the down stairs Deli. “Pizza delivery I think.”

However, Jamie did not relinquish his hold on her straight away.  Capturing Claire’s hands once more, he pulled her away from the table and pressed his body flush against hers.  Going weak at the knees, her heart was pounding in her chest for Claire could feel Jamie’s arousal nestled against her.  Leaning her head against his chest she tried to calm her breathing then looking up at him, she saw the disappointment in his eyes that she too felt.  She didn’t want to move but with more reluctance than she would ever believe possible, Claire Beauchamp slipped out of James Fraser’s embrace and went to answer the door frustrated with the untimely interruption.

Gazing back at him, she managed to say huskily, “I’ll be right back.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Ahhh! Mei … what are you doing here?” Claire asked incredulously when she finally opened the door. “Superintendent Zheng sent me over here to keep you company.” “Oh! … I see.” “I’m here to take you out to dinner.” Mei cheerily replied waiting for Claire to invite her inside the apartment. “Hong Kong’s culinary delights are legendary. What would you like? Italian? Nepalese? Cantonese?” “Ahh! That’s very nice of you Mei … but …” “Hello,” sounded a male voice behind Claire as she stood at the open door. Looking up and seeing James Fraser standing there, Mei Ling looked at Claire apologetically and answered, “Oh. I’m sorry Claire; I didn’t know you had company. I’ll go.” “No … no … stay,” she answered Mei trying to allay her new friend’s perceived embarrassment at perhaps having disturbed her evening with a male guest.

However, it was Jamie’s words that eased the situation for the young police recruit.  “I’m just leaving anyway I’m afraid,” he stated matter of factually. “Miss Beauchamp and I were just getting … acquainted, but our business is concluded.”

With disappointment registering in her eyes, Claire glanced at Jamie. He was standing there as if the past few moments hadn’t occurred and was again wearing his leather jacket that she had dropped on the floor.  She gave him another quizzical glance then looking at Mei Ling said, “Why don’t you go into the lounge room Mei … I’ll just see Mr Fraser out.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jamie’s voice echoed loud enough for Mei Ling to hear in the other room. “I look forward to working undercover with you Claire.” “Until tomorrow then …” she replied in a similar manner. James Fraser lightly brushed her arm and raised his eyes to hers. Claire saw the regret registered there also for the untimely interruption by the young lass. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, Jamie lifted Claire’s hand to gently cup her wrist, then bent his head and stroked his tongue across her palm. Straightening up, he let his fingers glide from her wrist, along her hand, then slowly over her fingertips. Claire felt his touch as if a bolt of lightning had struck her. She was melting on the spot as her eyes closed in lament of what might have been had they not been disturbed. Then … he was gone. Turning, James Fraser had walked out of the door, not looking back. Hearing the door shut quietly behind him, Claire opened her eyes. She looked at her hand and brought the area that Jamie had kissed to her mouth and nose. Nuzzling the spot he had caressed, a dreamy expression crossed her face.  She took a moment to compose herself before returning to the lounge room where Mei Ling was waiting for her.

“I’ve ordered pizza.  Why don’t you stay and share some with me instead of going out.”

  The next morning the mission begins...

Before departing for Aberdeen, Claire and Jamie had sat in Superintendent Zheng’s office being briefed on last minute details. Xiao Zheng was not at all happy with the fact that Claire Beauchamp was to go off with James Fraser to Aberdeen for he’d had reservations about him from the moment they had first met. However, Zheng was convinced that if all else failed, it was, after all, better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer … if … James Fraser was indeed an enemy. Claire though, had appeased his suspicions, convincing him that she could keep an eye on Mr Fraser while taking advantage of his connections to solve this case. She had argued the fact that being a couple would provide an excellent cover for them than if they were on their own. Zheng was under no illusion about what may lay ahead for these two. He was resolved to the fact that undercover work was covert but it appeared these two people were not new to this type of subterfuge. Both of their résumés had outlined the many times they had been on assignments such as this one. Nevertheless that still didn’t make his concern any the less. After all Claire Beauchamp was on exchange and under his protection. If anything should happen to her … well … he loathed thinking of the consequences. Xiao had his misgivings about the very plausible scenarios Claire had outlined, but he had reluctantly agreed to them travelling together stating that back up would be available if needed despite his orders from head office. On the other hand Superintendent Zheng was still at sixes and sevens about sending his exchange colleague on a mission with this private investigator, no matter how good was his or her résumé.  As a precaution he had checked out James Fraser’s credentials, and he had come up clean with a very impressive body of work as well. It appeared that Fraser was a former MI6 officer who had been seconded to work as a special agent for the FBI in his area of expertise … Organized Crime. He had travelled extensively throughout the United States and Europe while conducting investigations and interviewing difficult suspects, thus developing a network of investigative contacts nationwide. Moving into private investigating for a career change, James Fraser still was highly regarded and often worked in conjunction with the police in undercover work on sensitive cases. Fraser’s credentials had been categorically verified also when he had earlier contacted the Chief Commissioner to confirm his documentation. Zheng had been given the short shift by his commanding officer when they had spoken on the phone. It seemed that in matters of national security and diplomacy, pairing the two was a win-win situation for the Hong Kong police, and Zheng was reminded of this very succinctly. Without it being verbalized, he knew he was to “stay out of their way and under no circumstances was he to meddle or try to contact them whilst undercover.” Having been convinced from many quarters and given that the French Canadian ambassador Monsieur Alain de Marillac would not have engaged his services if the man wasn’t what he appeared to be, Zheng reluctantly saw James Fraser in a slightly different light. The man was very interesting and there was something in his eyes. He finally realised just what it was that he saw … it was power. James Fraser was a very foreboding individual who would not be crossed. Good … then he'll protect her, he’d thought optimistically. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Angus, show Mr Fraser and Claire their vehicle would you?” “Sure thing Boss,” he replied as he led the way to the elevators in the corridor. Looking at Claire, Zheng added, “And make sure there are no scratches or dents anywhere on the car while you’re at it …” he ordered, “… or it will come out of your wages!” “Yes sir!” As he observed James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp leave, his canny police eyes studied the couple once more. What he saw aroused his suspicions. Could it be that these two knew each other? No! … That was not possible! Zheng reflected on their meeting in his office. It had been quite aloof and even some antagonism was evident … a fact he had attributed to their pairing. In his experience undercover people liked to work alone and here they were with a sanctioned pairing at the request of the Chief Commissioner. He only hoped that they would get on together and achieve the end results for all of them. Zheng watched as they left the premises and entered the lift that would take them to their waiting car. Claire turned and gave him a cheeky smile and a wave as the doors closed behind them. James Fraser on the other hand stood resolutely … his face a blank mask. Returning to his desk, Xiao sat back in his chair lost in concentration. James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp appeared to be so in sync, so attuned to each other that there was an air of togetherness about the couple, as if they had worked together before. He knew that was not feasible but they certainly struck a chord with him in their demeanour. There was something about that Mr. Fraser that he couldn’t quite put his finger on also and it irked him. Dressed all in black he looked menacing, dangerous and the minimal movement of his gestures left him wondering. James Fraser was so difficult to read and … that blank stare of his was compelling. The man was too self-assured … possibly a legacy of his type of work. Perhaps I am just too distrustful, he thought. I’ve been on this job too long. Even the good guys are starting to look suspicious. Zheng laughed at his ramblings knowing that if he were a younger man, in similar circumstances, he too would have jumped at the chance of working with Claire Beauchamp undercover. However, if he had been left out of the loop and there was more going on than at first appearances then … he would not be happy. He would be demanding some explanations … from very high places.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued

Thank you everyone, I appreciate your support for my writing and hope that you are enjoying my crossover story.  Much appreciated. xox

Should you wish to access the other chapters of this story … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

[codylabs]

Chapter 22: Irredeemable

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Wendy and Robbie reached the top of the hill first, while Stan and McGucket’s old legs struggled to keep up. “So…” Robbie scratched his head and looked around when Wendy came to a stop. “Like, what are we doing here?”

“Ugh.” Wendy sighed. “I guess this is the part of the tradition where I act needlessly cryptic while you put it all together for yourself, huh…? Kay, see those weird cliffs over there?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and now we’re at the top of a circular hill…”

“Yeah…?” Robbie looked around for a few seconds. Then, faster than Wendy expected, his brain connected the puzzle pieces. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. “Wha… OOOOOOH… Duuuuuude…”

Wendy bent down, wrapped her arms under a large rock, and levered it off to the side, revealing the smooth titanium hatch leading straight down into the Earth. “Consider yourself educated.” She grunted.

“Whaa… So… So like… So like there’s acutally aliens…?!?” Robbie demanded. “Like, literal, actual aliens?”

“They’re all dead.” Wendy answered, as she tried to fit her fingers into the seam around the hatch. “Every last one; dead…” Her fingers weren’t small enough to get a grip in there. “Urgh… Dang it! My kingdom for a magnet gun…”

“Uh… Here. I got this…” Robbie bent down beside her, and stuck his own fingers into the gap. His were able to fit somehow, and together they lifted the hatch open.

The deep, black, shadowy pit of the triangular vent yawned open below them, promising mystery, danger, and rumors of ancient horror for any who might brave it. Wendy started down the ladder without a second thought, pausing only briefly to slip on a headlamp. Robbie was wearing a headlamp too all of a sudden, and he followed her more hesitantly, just as Stan and McGucket came over the rise.

Stan’s half-hearted request to “Hey, wait up!” caused him to hesitate one more time, but Wendy was getting further ahead, and he didn’t want to lose track of her. Stan’s sigh of “Ugh… Kids…” Echoed down the shaft after them, fading in volume with the light.

Down they went.

It was just as dark, wet, and creepy as Wendy remembered. The rugged tendrils of Earthly tree roots seemed out of place among the smooth curves and hard seams of the aged metal. The blackness extended as far as the illumination of their headlamps would reach, interrupted only rarely by a stray beam of sunlight from above, shining down through cracks in the damaged dorsal hull. The faint, ghastly echoes of their movements and breathing whispered back at them from the distance. And now, more than ever, Wendy felt like she was being watched. But none of it held her attention for long. Sure, ‘aliens’ once held a kind of wonder, but that magic was long dead.

For now, there was only the mission. She pulled out Dipper’s journal, and turned to a page he’d put down after their last adventure down here: a map of the wreck. According to it, their destination should be somewhere straight below…

For Robbie, of course, the magic of this place was only just getting started. And he wondered with great anticipation what other secrets the ancient tomb had to offer.

Stan and McGucket caught up to them near the bottom of the ladder, and together the party descended ever deeper, toward the control room at the center of the ship.

-Warning: 4 unknown intruders registered in crucial engineering sector.

-Drones 154 and 155 respond.

The security system became active. The red lights of two armed security drones winked to life deep in the ship, and their spherical bodies hovered off the ground.

Normal programs were very strict for dealing with those who would tamper with the ship. When unauthorized personnel attempted to access any crucial area, procedure dictates they be treated with extreme hostility. If the intruders were sentient, capture and containment was priority. If the intruders were non-sentient or overly hostile, termination was permissible.

-Hostility and threat assessment programs running.

-Following program 003: Drones 154 and 155 move to intercept and analyze.

They began to make for the center of the ship.

-Warning: System error!

-Warning: System error!

For some reason, they stopped, and approached no further. Because long ago, their security officer had installed another program in their mainframe. This program told them that the reactor control room was a very special case. If intruders ever breached this room, they were to follow an alternative procedure.

-Following program +8*%__!3/e^){nB--______: Stand by, observe, and await instruction.

-Drones 154 and 155 standing by.

The control room’s blast doors creaked upon stiffly, and the musty smell of ancient death puffed out of the seam. Unfazed, Wendy and Stan put their fingers into the crack and levered it even farther open; now wide enough to walk through. The beams of their lights swept the room’s interior, illuminating the hundreds of high-tech controls, consoles and screens. But Robbie had expected all that. What he hadn’t expected were the dozen semi-squid-like alien bodies, lying crusty and mummified across the floor in various position of pain. And he hadn’t expected the graffiti either; insane scribblings of alien madness scrawled across the walls in odd-colored blood.

“WOOOAH…” He blinked in a radical sort of way. “Duuuuuude…”

Stan and Wendy stepped boldly through the door without a hint of fear, leaving Robbie standing with McGucket.

“It’s harmless…” The inventor muttered. “Nothin’ in there that kin hurt ya… What killed em all is long gone…”

Robbie looked at him. “Well, yeah, I could guess that much, but—”

“Harmless.” McGucket repeated again, and Robbie realized that he was talking to himself. “Just death… Folks die all the time… What killed ‘ese fellers is dead. What killed ‘em is dead… And their madness died with ‘em… the madness died with ‘em… It’s okay…” The old man finally convinced himself, and took one hesitant step through the doors. “It’s okay…”

Robbie peaked in after the other 3, unsure whether he should be wary or not. “Hey, uh… Like… What the heck happened in here?” He gestured to the bodies. “Who are these things?”

“The ship’s engineers…” McGucket answered. “Murdered after a cruelest fashion…”

“Got nuked.” Stan stated simply.

Wendy felt he needed a better explanation than that. “Okay, so like…” Her mind drifted back to her and Dipper’s adventure down in this wreck. They’d probed around this room out of curiosity, and happened to find the journal of the last sane engineer… Was it really only 6 days ago? “They locked themselves in here during the crash.” She explained. “When the rest of the ship was going nuclear, they sealed the doors to stay safe… And, uh… I guess… Okay, the engine of the ship was going all screwy, tearing up reality or somesuch.” She pointed to the scrawled words on the walls. “They started to lose their sanity, their grip on reality, even began to see into the future I guess… I’m not sure how much of it was Bill Cipher’s doing, but he was there too. He got into their dreams, brains, sanity… And he tore their minds apart… And… The last sane engineer, that guy…” She pointed. “I guess he was working on a modification to contain Bill’s weirdness… And then he lost it. He opened the door, and the radiation from the rest of the ship cooked them all alive… Sterilized them too, which is why they never rotted… And now here we are.”

“Oh…” Robbie frowned. “So… But you killed ‘Bill’, right? So this is all, like, literally perfectly harmless in every way now?”

“Yep.” Stan nodded.

“I guess.” Wendy shrugged.

“So…” Robbie pointed a thumb at McGucket, whose eyes were darting about, and whose hand seemed to be nervously seeking out the handle of his death ray. “What’s he on about?”

“Oh, heh…” McGucket immediately let go of the death ray when he realized how he must seem. “You know me… Just… Just a tad superstitious is all… Heh… Eh… Sorry…”

“Hey.” Wendy put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all on edge. Just get the computer running, man…” She gave him a pat. “Then we can blow this pop stand. Yeah?”

“Yeh…” He seemed to regain some measure of confidence as he remembered their mission, and managed to tear his eyes away from the bodies long enough to make it to the main console on the other side of the room. From there, he leaned the death ray against a wall, and fished a small library of tools out of his overalls. Once his hands were wrapped around the familiar screwdriver and soldering gun, they steadied. “Okay, uh… Ya still got that computatraption on ya?”

“Yeah…” Wendy unslung her backpack, and pulled out the power control coupling.

“Kay, ya wanna get that installed while I start in on this?” He pointed to a loose panel on the wall. “If my reckoning of the pipelines and wiring is proper, it should go somewhere right in there…”

The other 3 managed to roll the panel aside, and sure enough, there was a series of 8 slots behind it, each shaped exactly like the device Wendy carried. 7 of the slots were blocked with the destroyed pieces of burned-out older ones, but the last slot was empty.

The coupling fit perfectly.

To one side of McGucket’s console, a single small green light flickered on.

“Wull, I’ll be a horn-swaggled boilerplate, I think we can get it runnin!” He laughed once, then caught himself. “This… I… Sorry, it’s just… This… This woula been a happy day…”

“How long you need?”

“Eh…” McGucket fished out a beefy computer, and plugged it into the console. A few more green lights turned on, and he began to type. “Gimme two hours?”

-Warning: Intrudurs have lifted the pre-ignition safety locks on reactor 5 without authorization.

The drones were programmed with a very particular set of skills: containing escaped test subjects, breaking up fights between passengers, defending restricted areas, pacifying external dangers, that sort of thing. Their entire minds were devoted toward threat assessment and combat.

But here was something else: the intruders actually appeared to be fixing the ship’s last remaining reactor. This type of situation was considerably outside the range of what they knew how to think about. There were absolutely no pre-programmed procedures for dealing with beneficial intruders.

The drones may not be very smart, but they were smart enough to know when they weren’t smart enough. -Warning: Directive unclear. Living officer, please advise. They requested.

But of course, the security officer had been dead for a long time now. A very long time. Their inquiries hadn’t received response for ages and ages… But they didn’t question that. They didn’t have the capacity to understand that. As far as they knew, their overseer was simply in the restroom or sleeping or something.

So they didn’t question it either when, for the first time in millennia, this very same overseer suddenly started giving them input again.

-Input: Stand by at long range and do not engage. Was the command. -Analyze the intruders’ biology and search for deviant life signs. Do not consider hostile until instructed.

-Directive accepted. Awaiting further input.

-Input: Display sensor feed on my monitor.

-Sensor feed linked. Awaiting further input.

-Input: That’s all for now.

-Drones 154, 155, 157 and 158 standing by. Welcome back, Lieutenant.

Two hours was a long time to wait when you’re on-edge, and even longer when you’re standing still in one place.

Twenty minutes in, they found themselves already bored.

Stan was asleep on one of the alien seats, a magazine propped up on his lap.

McGucket, who had no seat nearby and still had work to do, pressed a button on his robotic trousers to lock himself in an upright pose. His quiet hummed song joined Stan’s snoring as the only sounds in the room.

Wendy, still too restless to sit, just leaned back against a wall and stared at the insane alien graffiti. These words which once told the future… She wanted to read again what they said.

Robbie was even more restless than her. He wasn’t quite sure what to do while he waited, so he curiously broke the head off one of the dead bodies and began to examine it. It had three eyes, a sideways opening mouth… The mummified skin was thin and crusted, but must have once had the form of flexible scales… Fascinating. He smacked the skull against a wall, hoping to break it open to see what might be hidden inside.

“HEY!” Wendy noticed what he was doing, and barked in his direction.

He froze.

“Look, just…” She sighed, shrugged, motioned for him to set the head down. “Hey man, just a little respect, huh?”

“Right, right, yeah…” He set it down hastily. But then he thought about her comment for a moment, and frowned. “Wait, respect?” He asked. “What, for him?”

“For all of them. Dude.” Wendy spread her arms. “People died here, okay? Just… You know.”

“The work they did here kept Weirdmageddon from goin’ global…” McGucket muttered over his shoulder. “They’s heroes in their kind…”

“Well, sure, good for them.” Robbie shrugged. “But they weren’t doing it for you, they were probably just trying to save their own skins! And did a mighty fine job of it too… Look at these suckers!”

“Hey man, look—”

“What?” Robbie asked. “So they tried to save themselves, went hilariously mad, then killed themselves and accidentally, randomly, unforeseeably, did a favor for you a couple thousand years later… So what? They’re all just dead now, so who cares? I mean… They’re not even people, they’re just… lanky squid-type things.” He gave the detached head a spiteful little kick, and it rolled off. “Who cares?” He repeated.

Wendy and McGucket stared at him for a minute. McGucket subtly crossed himself as he turned back to his computer. Wendy shrugged and folded her arms.

Robbie put his hands on his hips. “What?” He asked again.

“Look…” Wendy told him. “If I’ve learned anything this past week, it’s that aliens are just folks… Sure, they may have tentacles or three eyes or scales or… Or they might have metal skin or might’ve grown up on some asteroid a dozen galaxies away, but in the end… They’re still just folks… These guys…” She spread her arms. “They probably had wives, or… Or parents, or kids, or… Eggs, or whatever the heck, I don’t know… But there were friends, family, people who cared about them. They died right in the middle of their hopes and dreams, they still had their souls… Somebody on some asteroid a dozen galaxies away still missed them… Somebody waited every day for them to come back except they didn’t. Somebody wished they’d never left except they did…. Somebody loved them. They’re not monsters. They’re not aliens… They’re just… People…”

Robbie frowned.

As if this idea were entirely new to him. As if it made him think.

Wendy turned back to the graffiti.

McGucket kept typing.

Stan kept Snoring.

Robbie spoke up again. “You ever met an alien?”

Wendy nodded. “Betty and Barney. Well… We called them Betty and Barney. Dunno how to pronounce their real names… But they were the farmers responsible for the Forest of Daggers, and we met their ghosts. They were pretty decent actually. Didn’t try to haunt us, even though they could’ve… Didn’t try to kill us, although they could’ve tried… Didn’t have to help us escape, but I think they did… I dunno.” She opened Dipper’s journal to a sketch he’d made of the two specters, and showed it at Robbie. “These were them… Good people.”

He took the book gently, and studied the faces. They looked monstrous, to be sure. Mouths full of razor-sharp saws, haunting, ghostly electric eyes, and nightmarish metallic skeletons floating in the air… Yet she said they were decent people. She said they were just folks. Dead folks. Loved folks… Even friendly to the organic living… They had names… They were… Friends…

Robbie closed the book and handed it back to her.

They were silent for a few moments more.

Then Robbie stood up, flipped his headlamp back on, and made for the door.

“Where you going?” She asked.

“I dunno…” He shrugged restlessly. “Just wanna look around. Wanna get out of here.”

She glanced back at McGucket, standing next to Stan’s sleeping form. They can handle themselves. Wendy thought. And she looked at the alien bodies. “Yeah. Me too.” She stood up and started after him. “And it’s dumb to go alone anyway…”

“Right…”

-Completed scan of intruders. The drones reported back. 4 bioforms, all carbon-based, aerobic, terrestrial vertebrates. Species unknown. Speed and strength moderate. Weaponry and defensive capabilities unknown. Bioform 1 is recognized from previous intrusion; threat level 16, high. Other threat levels unknown.

-Input: Do any of the intruders display abnormalities?

-Bioform 2 possesses an alternative body chemistry including: slightly adjusted air and fluid handling cycles, no adrenaline and other ordinary biological markers, and inconclusive bone density. Awaiting further input.

-Input: I want drone 154 to lock its sensors on bioform 2. Give me control of drone 154’s basic movement controls.

-Controls linked. Awaiting further input.

-Input: That will be all.

-Drones 154, 155, 157, 158, 163, and 164 standing by.

“Robbie…? Hey, your brain broke or what?” His eyes seemed to be fixed on the far wall of the vast engine room, as if mesmerized or perplexed by something. She snapped her fingers in front of his face to bring him out of his daze.

“Oh, uh…” He shook his head and turned back to her. “Yeah, sorry, I just, like… Sorry. Just spaced out for a minute…”

She looked where he’d been staring a moment ago, but couldn’t make out anything except perfect blackness in the distance. “Did ya see something?”

“I don’t know… What’s over that way anyway?”

“Uh…” She pulled Dipper’s journal back out, and opened it to the incomplete map he’d made of the wreck. “Uh… I don’t think we’ve ever been below the cargo level…” She studied the map. “But from this, it looks like there’s probably a ramp on that side leading down… So I think it’s new territory. Not sure.”

He thought for a moment longer. “Could we check it out?”

“Why?”

“Like… I dunno… It’s cool?”

“Why is it cool?”

“I dunno! Like…! I dunno, if we’ve never been down there we should probably just check it out, right?”

She blinked. “You totally saw something.”

“I don’t know…” He repeated. “It’s dark…”

“That’s so…” She checked her backpack: an axe, a crowbar, a list of handy spells, some snacks… She was ready as she ever would be. “All right, fine. We’ll go. HEY MCGUCKET!”

“Eh?”

“Robbie saw something toward the SouthEast side, so we’re gonna go exploring, okay? Looks to be further underground.”

“Eh… I dunno… How long you be gone?”

“Hour and a half? Before you’re through with that. If we’re not, wake Stan and call Ford.”

“All right… Uh… Be careful an’ stuff… We don’t know what all’s down here.”

“We kinda do…” Wendy mumbled.

So they set out, picking their way across and between the miscellaneous machinery of the engine room. Eventually a large, tall wall loomed up before them, unclimbable and impassable save for a pair of blast doors standing at the bottom. They were open just about wide enough for a security drone.

Wendy squeezed through first, Robbie followed, and they found themselves at the top of a long passageway, gently curving deeper into the blackness ahead. Wendy checked the map and saw nothing; they really were in uncharted territory now. Hesitantly, she returned the journal to her pack as they started their descent.

“So…” Maybe 5 minutes later, Robbie broke the silence again. “You said everything down here is dead, right?”

“Huh? Oh yeah…” Wendy nodded. “Well, ‘cept for the drones, a’course.”

“The what now?”

“Don’t worry; they’re stupid. If you don’t feel fear they’ll just ignore ya. And if they don’t, you can just shoot ‘em… Don’t let ‘em grab you though.”

“Okay… Yeah, but… But I was talking about aliens… You’re sure nothing survived the crash? Like, those engineers all died after the fact, and whoever ‘Betty and Barney’ were, they lived long enough to do their thing… Like… It seems totally bogus that everything died…”

“Yeah… There were a few survivors.” Wendy admitted. “But they were picked off. Hunted down and killed one by one.”

“…All of them?”

“To a man.”

“…By what?”

“A shapeshifter.” Wendy recognized how scary that probably sounded, and explained. “Okay, so, this, uh… Let’s see, this ship was an explorer, like Christopher Columbus, right? And it was exploring planets all over the galaxy, collecting specimens and junk like that… Well, just like Christopher Columbus, their Captain was a grade-A sack of crap. Didn’t care whether the ‘test subjects’ were intelligent or dangerous or whatnot, he just kept doing his thing, trying to use them for his own purposes… Well, it kinda blew up in his face after the crash, because this one test subject, this shapeshifter, got free. And she was real mad because of all the things they’d done to her, and she was also really, really smart I guess. She hacked the security system, took control of the drones, and killed everyone left. Kinda… I guess I kinda get it, but still. A lot of innocent people died.”

Robbie considered this for a while, a strange look on his face. “Oh.” He finally said.

They kept walking.

When the tunnel forked, Robbie suggested they take the small passage to the left, but Wendy said they may as well follow the larger route to whatever end it held. Robbie reluctantly agreed.

Turns out, that end was water. Wendy supposed they were underground, and not too far from a lake, so some flooding made sense.

The surface was utterly dark and filthy; bits and scraps of decayed wreckage stood on top of the miry surface, and a smell like an ancient, rusty swamp wafted from it; a reek quite unlike anything they might have imagined before. It made sense; this water hadn’t moved in thousands of years, just stood there, stagnant, while the metal hull slowly rusted, and whatever growth could manage grew and died on the sparse nutrients. Was this earthly life, trapped down here in this isolated bog? Or was it some plant, fungus, or foul contamination from worlds away, carried within the ship’s own stores?

Who knows. Needless to say, they wouldn’t be swimming.

So they turned around and trekked back up the tunnel to the fork Robbie had first suggested. It seemed to Wendy like as good an option as any.

This tunnel was narrower, and branched off into many rooms and passages. Some of the doors were locked; others were rusted shut, others opened into flooded chambers, and the rest stocked equipment or furniture decayed beyond recognition.

Nothing of interest. They continued down the tunnel. Neither of them were really sure where they were going or what they were looking for, but at least they weren’t lost. The hallway was basically straight, and wider than the surrounding passages, so as long as they stayed close to it, they would always have their sense of direction.

But the tunnel ended, as all tunnels do. Toward the end, it seemed to flatten; the metal was buckled and bent, and seemed to have been collapsed upwards…

“What caused this?” Robbie frowned.

Wendy thought. “Oh.” She realized. “We’re down at the bottom of the ship. This is the part that was crushed when it hit the ground.”

“Ah.”

Wendy shrugged. “So… Where are we going, man? What are we even doing here? I mean, you thought you saw something, but we didn’t find anything. You happy?”

“Well…” Robbie looked around. All the ship seemed perfectly silent for a moment. “Have…” He stuttered, as if something very large were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know how to let it out or if he should. “You ever had weird dreams, Wendy?” He blurted.

Wendy blinked. “Weird dreams. Whoever heard of such a thing.”

“W-w-well yeah, I know, like…” He stuttered. “I know all dreams are weird, but have you ever seen like, something totally bogus and crazy and it totally sticks with you because I don’t know?”

“Elaborate.”

“Like… I don’t know… Like somebody else’s dream? Have you ever dreamed somebody else’s dream? Like… Like if things turned out different, and your life didn’t look like it did, then you might have seen what you saw… But you can never quite remember, and you know it’s not a real memory, but it just sticks with you? Like… Somebody’s been in your head…?”

“Well that was just needlessly cryptic.” Wendy informed him. “I have literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s… It’s just…” Robbie ran his hands through his hair, and seemed much more focused and alert than he usually did. His headlamp beam swept the walls. “It’s just that I, like, totally remember this hallway!”

Wendy looked around. It didn’t look like any hallway she’d ever seen. Like any hallway that had ever existed in the human world. She looked back at him. “Did you see it in a movie or a video game or something?” She guessed.

“No, no, I mean… Not the colors or the feel, but the exact shape… That collapsed bit there just clicks somehow… Even this little seam in the floor right here… And I think this door leads to a side passage that goes deeper…!” He walked over to a random, unassuming hatch, and gave it a push. Surprisingly, it wasn’t rusted shut, and eased slowly open. “Does that make any sense?”

Wendy frowned at the door for several seconds. Then frowned at him for several seconds. “…Do you ‘remember’ what’s back there?” She asked.

He shook his head.

“…Well…” She shrugged. “I’ve seen flying eyeballs turn people to stone. I’ve seen kids magically cloning themselves. I’ve seen Soos with a pig’s brain. I’ve seen alien robot ghosts.” She pulled out McGucket’s ray gun, gave the hallway behind them a quick check, then nodded toward the open door. “After all that, this ain’t so weird. Lead the way, o prophet.”

This new way was small and cramped. A veritable maze of twisted metal, snaking below and between walls, through the cracks between separated panels and severed pipes, the one single path through this wreckage of the vessel’s lower reaches. There was room enough for a person to easily squeeze through, as Wendy and Robbie were steadily proving, but never enough space to stand up or really get a sense of direction.

But bizarrely, Robbie seemed to know where he was going.

-Warning: Final safety locks have been released on reactor 5. Intruders could begin startup procedures at any time.

-Input: Disregard. Do not interfere.

-Warning: Intruders 1 and 2 are now approaching location designation ‘Keep’.

-Input: Disregard. Continue long-range observation. This is all part of the plan.

-Drones 154, 155, 157, 158, 163, 164, 174, and 175 standing by.

After maybe 20 minutes of crawling and scrambling and dodging hard corners in the tight space, they emerged into a wider hallway, collapsed about 20 feet in either direction. Robbie pointed to a metal panel jammed in place against the wall, and said he thought that a way forward was hidden behind it.

But Wendy didn’t help him move it. Instead she stood back, and sighed. “You know Robbie.” She started reluctantly. “As a general rule, you never really admit your mistakes or make apologies. One of the reasons we broke up.”

“Uh?” He tried to jiggle the panel sideways, hoping to loosen it. “What?”

“Normally.” She continued. “You’re kinda like ‘ugh, whatever’ to everything. Not really excited or curious… You’re kinda adventurous, but never on your own, and only to impress people, especially Tambry. And you’re much more interested in girls than with aliens.”

“Well…” He found the jagged part that the panel was caught on, and realized he had to push it in to pull it out. “So…?”

“But today you apologized for everything.” She said. “You told me everything you should have said a year ago, really sucked it up and acted the gentleman. And then, you ventured down into an alien ship on your own volition, without Tambry, not to impress me, really for no reason at all… And then, you willingly followed your weird space dreams through cramped little tunnels, and… And now… Now a girl’s been pointing a gun at your back for fifteen minutes and you haven’t even noticed.”

“Huh—AGH!” Robbie finally turned around, and saw her standing in a ready stance, holding the blaster nice and steady at her hip, aimed right for the center of his torso. He jumped to his feet and put up his hands. “What the heck, Wendy?!? What are you-what are you doing?!?”

“Being a lot less stupid than you think I am.” She smiled humorlessly. “Taking the initiative before we get wherever you’re going.”

“Wai—HUH?” He frowned. “Wait, you think I’m the shapeshifter? What the heck?”

“Hey.” She told him. “Calm down. The Shifter’s been dead for thousands of years, why would I be paranoid about her now?”

“Well…” He frowned, as if struggling for an answer. “Well… Well Mabel told me that there’s one alive today! And it’s in a bunker that Ford made!”

“Oh right… You do know about that one somehow. Of course. You’re right. I should be paranoid of him.” Wendy nodded. “Now again, calm down. If you’re really Robbie, then you’ll be able to prove it, and you’ve nothing to fear. Right?”

“Like…” He took a deep breath, and seemed to calm down. “Like, yeah, I am Robbie… But… But you could be a shapeshifter too…! I think… I think you’re the one who’s acting suspicious, and!”

“Except I’m not the one with a gun pointed at my crucials.” She reminded him. “So let’s not change the subject, huh?”

There was a brutish sort of wisdom to that. “…Okay.” He nodded.

“What’s your girlfriend’s name?” Wendy asked.

“Tambry.”

“That was an easy one. Band name.”

“Robbie V. and The Tombstones.”

“Address?”

“42nd Pinewood Blvd.”

“…Dad’s job?”

“He runs the morgue and the graveyard with mom. And really creepy about it, too… Stupid…”

“What are your talents?”

“Guitar, singing… Spray painting, like, totally counts as a talent too, and…”

“And your secret talent?”

“I… Uh…” His eyes fell. “Drawing anime… Except its actually called manga but nobody understands…”

“Biggest regret?”

“Uh…” He appeared to be hesitating but was really racking his brain. “Hypnotizing you…”

Wendy thought for a moment. She needed a better test; some knowledge that only her and Robbie would know… Something that Robbie would never have told anyone in a million years…

“What color was my bra that night?” Wendy asked.

“Huh?”

“My bra. That night. What color?”

“I…” He frowned. “I…”

She waited.

“I…” He shook his head. “I…” His voice got small, fearful. “I think… White?”

She sighed, glad for some certainty at last. “Wrong answer.”

“…I mean… It might’ve been grey.”

“Strike two.”

“Pink? I… Look, that really wasn’t the part I was paying attention to, alright?”

She put up a hand and stopped him there. “Trick question.” She informed him. “Robbie never saw anything of the sort… And got a black eye for trying.”

The shapeshifter closed his mouth.

“All right.” Wendy’s voice was low, steady, and deathly serious. “Now here’s how it’s gonna work, dude: You’re gonna shapeshift reeeeeaaaal slowly into something nice and harmless. And then you’re gonna tell me exactly how and when you escaped, what you’ve been doing since, and who you’ve hurt along the way. You gimme any sort of trouble? This thing melts a hole. SAVVY?”

Very slowly, Robbie’s clothes, hair, and headlamp disappeared, melting back into his flesh. His skin paled, and stretched, and dissolved. The mass that was left seemed to expand, morph, and twist, and finally Wendy was looking at the alien’s true form. Its lumpy white hands clasped on top of its head, and it kneeled on the floor in a position of surrender. Two large, bulbous red eyes locked with Wendy’s.

And the weird toothed mouth tried a hesitant smile.

“Well.” She hadn’t heard the creature’s true voice in a long time, and it brought back some awful awkward memories. “All that talk.” His voice rolled. “All that talk about how aliens aren’t monsters… About how they’re just people… Respect them, you said. Treat them as equals, you said. I met some decent folks, you said… All that talk, and now you’d shoot me…”

Wendy shook her head. “It’s not about what or who you are man… It’s about what you’ve done. You’ve lied. You’ve stolen. You tried to kill us. You have killed for all I know, and I can’t ignore that. Now. How. Did you. Escape.”

“…Stasis tube malfunctioned for some reason about a week ago.” He said. “Then… A few days later, Robbie came down to freeze some samples he and Mable had been collecting from the robotic forest… He left the door open.”

“Robbie. You did what with him?”

The shapeshifter didn’t say anything.

Wendy bit her lip, and moved on. “Who else have you hurt?”

He shook his head. “No one.”

“…You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” He told her.

“Prove it.”

“Call Tambry. Tell her she spent the week with an alien. She’ll be surprised. She’ll be conflicted. She’ll want to talk to me. Because I was a great Robbie. Better than he ever was; you said it yourself: he was prideful, self-centered, lustful. A real jerk. He was taking his life on a wild wide to nowhere. But I was a good boy. People who thought they knew me knew I cared… Tambry loves Robbie more now. And if she had him back? It would be a rude awakening…”

Wendy almost did make the call. But she wasn’t all that confident in her ability to hold somebody at gunpoint while talking on the phone. It was like distracted driving; not a good idea. And besides, she wasn’t all that confident in her phone’s ability to get cell service way down here.

“So.” Wendy said. “Just one question then. Why haven’t you killed me today? Why lead me off toward wherever this is? Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.” He told her.

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

She considered that for a moment. “Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“You’re so mature.” He scoffed.

“YOU’RE so mature.” She corrected him.

“I’m telling you the truth, woman! I remember this place, but I don’t know where or how and I just want to see what’s down at the end!”

“And I will shoot you! IN THE FACE!”

“Where I CAME FROM! Please!”

She swallowed her next threat, and glanced at the wall panel he’d been trying to move out of the way. “How can I trust you?” She asked. “What can you plainly tell me? And after all you’ve done, why shouldn’t I shoot you? In the face? Right here? Right now?”

“I…” He looked at the panel as well. “I…” He turned back to her. His little claws clicked as he thought for a moment. “Wendy Corduroy.” He finally blurted. “What if you were raised by gnomes?”

Wendy pondered this, and decided it was an interesting thought experiment. She took on a more comfortable stance. “Go on.”

“What if a horde of tiny little men found you as a toddler, and kept you chained up in a big hollow stump, deep in the forest? You never knew your parents. You never knew who or what you were. ‘Human’ was a word they never used, not even ‘female’, you didn’t even have a name, only ‘monster’. ‘Specimen’. ‘Creature’. ‘Biologic anomaly!’ You were a peculiar giant, with red hair, long arms and legs, and muscles the size of their torsos; capable of feats of strength they’d never even imagined.”

“Okaaaay…” Wendy frowned.

“They would come into your stump every once in a while.” The shifter continued. “Just to poke and prod you and admire how fast you were learning their language, learning to play chess, learning to use tools, learning to perform little tricks for them. Ever since you’d learned what ‘person’ meant, you knew that you were one, or at least longed to become one… But you hadn’t the faintest idea how, and they would not listen. To them, you were nothing. You were a pet sometimes, when they were feeling generous. You were an annoyance other times, and they would shun you…

“But mostly… Mostly they treated you like a prize animal, as if they were fattening you up to eat you. Every time you were a little bit bigger and fatter they would congratulate themselves and say ‘Wow! Look at her! Soooo marvelous!’ And they fed you beans, nothing but bucketfulls of beans, and you never knew what anything else tasted like… Until one day… You realized what your basic instincts were saying: that meat was food as well. And you began to wonder what a gnome would taste like if you shaved off the beard and cooked it… You reasoned that gnomes were weak. You could probably bend them, break them, tear them up, they were so small…

“With such ideas in your head, one day you tried to escape. You tore open the shackles on your feet. You got out of the stump, and tried to read their notes, find out who you are, find out what more there is beyond your tiny world. You wanted the answer, just a simple answer to a simple question: Who are you? So simple!

“But it didn’t work. They locked you in a cage, with a whole truckload of beans for company, and then they forgot all about you. For 30 long years they forgot about you, left you alone with the echoes for company. When you were old… Old enough to be an adult. Old enough that you should have finished a nice education. Old enough to excel at a wonderful job. Old enough that by rights you should have settled down with a nice little man and become a mother of two, old enough that you should be surrounded with family if all were right in the world… When you were OLD…! That was when you finally escaped…

“If you were raised by Gnomes, Wendy Corduroy, would you have done any differently than I?”

The shapeshifter rose to his feet, and took a step towards her.

No matter his story, that was a step too far. She pulled the trigger.

The laser bolt hit the Shifter right in the chest. But it wasn’t nearly as powerful as she’d hoped, and the creature didn’t stop. Before she could let off a second shot, it had snatched the weapon from her hands, and smashed it to pieces on the floor.

Now his gigantic, hideous head was mere inches from her face. Wendy stood her ground silently, her fingers twitching as she contemplated reaching for another weapon, wondering if a fight was necessary, wondering if a fight would even work…

She looked down, and watched his flesh shift and stretch over the blaster wound, shrinking and closing and scarring over and healing completely. In only a minute, it was like there was no wound at all.

She looked back up at his face.

The red, lidless eyes glared at her. The claws around the mouth clicked quietly. His mucus layer rippled and his breath reeked.

He turned away from her, grabbed the metal panel stuck against a wall, and ripped it free. He tossed it down the hall, and it clattered to a stop at the end with a great noise.

There was, indeed, a tunnel hidden behind it.

Without a sound, he collapsed into a slightly narrower form to fit better.

“Lead the way then dude…” Wendy mumbled, and started after him.

The shifter turned and glared down at her one more time. “And my name.” He snarled. “Is Sam.”

-Warning: Intruders have begun Reactor 5 startup. Power output: 5% and rising. Coolant levels sufficient.

-Warning: Intruders have access to all remaining ship systems and engines.

-Warning: Intruders 1 and 2 are presently entering location designation: ‘Keep’.

-Input: Assign bioforms 3 and 4 a threat level of 20. Combat preference: Immediate lethal force. You are clear to engage. Take no survivors.

-Threat reassessed. Antimatter pellets loaded and launchers charged. Drones 155, 157, 158, 163, 164, 174, 175 and 179 engaging.

-Drones 154, 180, 181, 182, 183, and 188, standing by.

-Input: Reserve forces, prepare to enter Keep.

Wendy began to make out a faint light at the end of the tunnel. Ahead of her, she saw the Shifter’s silhouette emerge from the passage, stand up straight, and freeze.

She came up behind him, and stood slowly.

The room was maybe the size of a 3-car garage. It was all collapsed on one side, and all other easy entrances were closed off. It wasn’t quite dark, thanks to a few glowing computer screens set up near the center. It wasn’t quite dry, thanks to a small trickle of clean, fresh water flowing down through a broken pipe.

And it wasn’t quite empty.

Wendy’s first thought was ‘storage room’, judging by the piles of hexagonal crates stacked and littered near the corners.

But there were also the bodies.

Dozens of skeletons stuck to the wall with what looked like giant-sized spider webbing, hanging there with their feet maybe 3 feet off the ground, and their arms stretched out horizontally, as if crucified. Most of them were the squid-type aliens that made up most of the ship’s crew. Some were a little different; probably some of the other passengers who’d bought passage as colonists… There were even a few humans. But there was one; one of them had a mouth made of saws, and a metal skeleton, and Wendy remembered having met his ghost. Barney. The man who’d died trying to kill the original shapeshifter.

Speaking of which.

In the center of the room, hunched over a collection of glowing computer screens, there stood a single living figure. Its fingers quietly tapped out some kind of command on the computer, and a few lights flashed. A half-dozen security drones hovered in through openings high on the walls, and turned their red triangular gaze down on the two new visitors.

The figure stood to its feet, and turned around.

And twirled a tape measure in its hand.

“Hello Sam.” It said.

“Mom…”

Gsv rmgifwvih szw urmrhsvw ivkzrih lm ivzxgli 5, zmw szw gsvivuliv lfgorevw gsvri fhvufomvhh. 8 wilmvh wrw vczxgob zh gsvb szw yvvm rmhgifxgvw, drgslfg z yirvuvhg nlnvmg’h svhrgzgrlm. Gsvb slevivw jfrvgob lfg lu gsv wzipmvhh, gsvri vbvh urcvw lm gsv vmgizmxv gl gsv xlmgilo illn, gsvri dvzklmh slg, gsvri nrmwh zoivzwb erhfzorarmt gsv yzggov.

Rmgifwvi 3, dsln uirvmwob uzxvh pmvd zh NxTfxpvg, dzh hgroo yfhb zg gsv xlnkfgvi, zmw dlfow mlg yv zyov gl ivzxg rm grnv. Z hrmtov zmgrnzggvi ilfmw xlfow kvmvgizgv srh glihl zmw vckolwv, proormt srn rmhgzmgob. Rmgifwvi 4 ivnzrmvw xzgzglmrx rm gsv xszri; vevm ru sv dviv gl dzpv fk mld, sv dlfow mlg yv zyov gl luuvi nfxs ivhrhgzmxv. Zmlgsvi zmgrnzggvi ilfmw dlfow gvinrmzgv srn.

Gdl hslgh. Gszg’h zoo gszg dzh mvvwvw. Vzxs wilmv olzwvw ulfi uli tllw nvzhfiv.

Yfg gsvm hlnvgsrmt szkkvmvw.

Z yiroorzmg uozhs lu yofv ortsg org fk gsv xlmgilo illn. NxTfxpvg qfnkvw yzxpdziwh uiln gsv xlmgiloh, hgzigovw zmw uirtsgvmvw. Wrw R qfhg wl gszg? Gsrh zorvm gvxs nfhg yv glfxsrvi gszm rg ollph… Yfg gsvm dsvm sv ollpvw sziw zg gsv ivzwlfgh, mlgsrmt hvvnvw gl szev xszmtvw… Zoo gsv hvggrmth zmw uvvwyzxp dviv qfhg dsviv sv’w ovug gsvn… Yfg gsvm sv mlgrxvw hlnvgsrmt ivzoob jfrgv lww: Gsv kozhnz yvzn dvzklm gszg szw yvvm ovzmvw yvhrwv srn dzh ml olmtvi gsviv. Sv tozmxvw zilfmw. Hgzm wrwm’g szev rg. Dsviv wrw rg tl? Dszg szkkvmvw? Rg dzh irtsg sv—

Gsv hlfmw lu vrtsg hrnfogzmvlfh vckolhrlmh vxslvw gsilfts gsv illn. Sv svziw wvyirh izggormt ztzrmhg gsv dzooh uiln lfghrwv, hzd z hxizk lu yfimvw divxpztv ylfmxv rm kzhg gsv wllih, zmw hsziwh lu kozgrmt zmw xsfmph lu ilylgrx rmmziwh xozggvirmt gl gsv tilfmw lfghrwv.

Hgzm dzh zdzpv rm zm rmhgzmg. “SR SVB ML KOVZHV HFHZM R XLFOWM’G…! *Hmiu* Svvvvb, xzm’g z uvooz tvg zmb hovvk zilfmw sviv?”

“R wfmml dszgzkkvmvw!” NxTfxpvg xirvw. “Dszhzkkvmrm’ dszgdzhhzg mlrhv dslhgsviv dsvivrmgzimzhsrm nb wvzgs izb ifm luu gl?”

Hgzm ulooldvw srn gl gsv wlli zmw gsvb ylgs ollpvw lfg. Hgzm wrwm’g ivnvnyvi rg yvrmt jfrgv hl dzin zmw hnlpb. NxTfxpvg wrwm’g ivnvnyvi gsviv yvrmt jfrgv hl nzmb yfimvw, hnzhsvw krovh lu ilylgrx divxpztv.

Sv zohl wrwm’g ivnvnyvi ovzermt srh wvzgs izb lfg sviv. Bvg gsviv rg dzh, hrggrmt lm gsv uolli zg srh uvvg, gszg evib hznv gllo sv’w nrhkozxvw hvxlmwh ztl.

Yfg rg dzh wruuvivmg mld. Rgh uilmg vmw dzh yozxpvmvw zmw yfimvw zmw hnvoovw lu hfoufi, zmw gsv ivhg dzh xlevivw rm nbhgvirlfh hxizgxsvh zmw wvmgh. Rgh szmwov szw yvvm yilpvm zmw ivkzrivw drgs z yrg lu wfxg gzkv. Rgh ylggln dzh nfwwb dsviv rg szw yvvm wilkkvw. NxTfxpvg krxpvw rg fk zmw ulfmw gszg rg dzh ortsgvi; rgh ufvo gzmph dviv mvziob vnkgb. Zmw z jfrxp xsvxp lu gsv vovxgirxzo xszitv ivevzovw gszg gsv yzggvirvh dviv zonlhg dzhgvw zh dvoo.

Gsv rtmrgrlm xsznyvi dzh hgroo dzin.

“Dvoo R’oo yv z klip-yvoorvw uvzgsvi-svzigvw wrmtovyviib… Dszg rm gsv mznv lu nv Kzkkrv’h tryyviuofmpvw yiznyovhmrkkrm’ Nrhhrhhrkkr xlnyrmv qfhg szkkvmvw?”

“Blf mvvw gl gzpv yvggvi xziv lu gszg gsrmt.” Hgzm glow srn.

“Wrw blf qfhg wl gszg qfhg mld?” NxTfxpvg zhpvw.

“Wrw dsl wl sfs? Wrw hlnvgsrmt szkkvm?”

“Dsz--? Yfg… Gsv gsrmt…? Ls nb, ollprg gsvhv klli ilyrgh…”

Hgzm nzwv z olmt hgirmt lu xlmufhvw tifmpovb mlrhvh. “Dvok, R’n rm levi nb svzw. Blf tlg z yilgsvi R xlfow xzoo? R nvzm… Z kslmv R xlfow yilgsvi? R nvzm… Zts, xzm’g gzop glwzb. Svb dzrgznrmfgv, dsviv ziv gsv prwh?”

[chimericarchitect]

Two to Tango

(( In which Saness tries to be sneaky about helping her friend-not-friend and it backfires spectacularly when An0n gets directly involved, resulting in the death of Eri. ))

Eri: You lean on the railing, looking out over the night. The ocean is dark, and relatively calm. Over in the other direction, the city is more properly lit up. You guess it looks nice. It doesn't really help your mood, though. The Angel moves up from where it was resting, curls around your body, head up into your hand. You gently pet it, while it whispers to you, and you just keep looking out into the night.

Your phone buzzes, and you look to it. Oh, god. You text with one hand. While you're dealing with Sol, another notification pops up. Saness. She...  Oh fuck.

Saness: Nothing better than a little breaking-and-entering to make someone forgive your earlier transgressions, right? You're kinda scared to appear on the cliff though, because he might try to shoot you... Even appearing here in the ground level of the lighthouse, you've got a thick barrier of protective unseen psi around your person, and you've used your disguise amulet to look like a cat. There's nothing weird about a cat using a transportalizer, surely. An0n told you that they're the one who gave Eri the angel, and that they fed from his sanity... Eri will heal, supposedly, but you can't just abandon your friends, even if he doesn't see you as one.

Eri: You put your phone away angrily. It's fine, it's fine. She stopped responding, so she got the message, Sol and Kar are fine as well, you can help them out soon. Why did this go this way, god dammit. The Angel rubs against your hand, and it reassures you. It's alright, you're fine, you're a prince, these issues will be far below you soon enough. 

You've had enough sightseeing. You tell the Angel that you're going back inside, and it stays curled around you just a moment longer before slinking off to give you space. It'll be alright, always waiting for its Prince. You smile, then head on down. You'll get something to eat, maybe.

Saness: It takes you a moment to work up the nerve to ascend, listening for Eri or sounds of outrage. Upon hearing nothing, you go, though it takes effort to keep your footfalls quiet in a lighthouse stairwell; you only look like a cat to others and are actually a normal troll walking in an upright position. 

Eri: Down here, and it's time to look through your fridge. What garbage can you get out of here tonight.

Okay, fine, you'll go with that, that doesn't look too old. Pizza out, a few slices put onto a plate, shoved into a microwave. You lean against your counter, and just wait, listening to the hum of the machine.

Saness: Up the stairs, all the way to the kitchen, and you know he's there. The sound of shuffling and the ping of a microwave promises such. What should you do? You peer around carefully to watch him, heart a wild thing in your chest. You have the flower anon gave you to cure him.  Wait.  Why are you a cat?  Cats can't talk, or do things like convince people to put flowers in their mouths. .....  You have a picture of An0n.  You could just as easily look like him. 

Eri: Ding! It's done. Open it up, get out your now heated meal, and walk over to sit down and get on that. It's quiet. It's far too quiet. You should do something, like put some music on, or something. ... Are you alone? You think you're alone.

Saness: And then An0n in troll form walks boldly into the kitchen, leaning cockily against the doorframe and wearing a fiendish grin. Holy fuck, you're sweating.

The Magic An0n: > Seduce Eri. Do it.

Eri: You're not alone. "Wasn't expectin' you to come around so soon."

Saness: Your grin widens as though the two of you were sharing a joke, and you oh-so-slowly lift a finger in front of your sharp maw in a shushing motion.

Eri: You give a little head tilt, but remain silent. What's going on with him?

Saness: Oh god, don't be suspicious. You stand upright off the wall and take a step forward, using your bracer to blink out of reality and back into it only a few feet away from Eri. You're guessing; you've never met An0n, but if you were a spooky chaos-and-mischief entity, you would totally pop in an out of existence to startle people. In your palm is the four-petaled flower, though you have yet to present it to Eri. When you do, it is with a flourish.

Eri: A gift, it seems. Or a trick. Almost certainly a trick. He really thinks you're going to fall for that? You laugh, and stand, having a final bite of pizza before you walk to lean on the counter again. "Are we going to, uh.. talk about what happened last time?"

Saness: You roll your borrowed cyan eyes, incorporating a tilt of your head into the motion so that when your gaze comes to rest on Eri again, you can disappear and dramatically port comfortably in front of him, using your psi to sit with one leg hooked over the other in the air, just slightly overhead. Your arms are crossed like you are bored.

Eri: God, he's trying to get to you by not saying shit. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. "Look, I'm- I'm sorry about doin' that to you, it was sudden, an' you clearly weren't comfortable. But I, uh. Still think what I did back then, I guess."

Saness: Oh god no, he's talking to you about something An0n would know and you would not. Which is a lot of things, come to think of it. Your eyes narrow over your smile as though you were considering his words, though in fact you are fumbling.

Eri: "So, uh, I hope maybe we can work somethin' out for that, if you're comfortable."

Saness: You grin wider, slowly, as though your actions is in response to his question (to which you have no context), and you present the blue flower once more, uncurling your fingers around it for him to take from your palm, head tilted forward juuuust slightly.

Eri: You look down at the flower, and... something about this seems off. He was offering this before you brought it up, so is he just ignoring you? Why is it blue, when everything involving An0n has been monochrome before now? "What is this, An0n?"

The Magic An0n: > Technically, An0n's eyes are blue, and everything he accents with is blue.

Eri: >That's true, but the rat wasn't.

The Magic An0n: > At least on his blog, the rat wasn't.

Karkat: > Rats don’t come in blue Eri.

The Magic An0n: > Also that.

Saness: Not that it matters, really. You feel the walls of the trap closing around you and decide that now is probably a good time to call this all off. One last gambit. You close your hand around the flower before floating down to stand on the ground. What would a chaos god do when scorned? You have no idea. "You won't accept my gift, then?" You definitely don't sound like An0n, but you're banking on ~chaos magic~ being a thing. For your part, you don't sound like yourself, at least. Or, you're trying not to.

Karkat: > Roll for deception.

The Magic An0n: > From the corner of the kitchen, a black rat lounges. It appears to be watching. It's eyes glow blue.

Eri: That is absolutely not his voice. Alarm bells start properly going off in your head. Didn't talk before now, when he's always so wordy and wanting to get in a few words to rib at you. Coming by without warning, when he would either allude to doing it first, or asking. Disappearing and reappearing, when normally he wisps around like he's made of darkness. What's going on? You do a roll for perception.

Saness: > Time to die.

Eri: Your roll is low. You tell yourself it's fine. It's him, things are just weird at the moment. You're on edge because of Saness, and Sol, and Kar, and even though he's acting so weird, it must be him. Maybe something was going on you didn't know about. You deflate a bit, look away. "I'm... fuck, I'm sorry, An0n. I'm just on edge at the moment."

Saness: You don't know what to say. You can't properly impersonate someone you don't know, and you know Eri will not be so forgiving if he finds out that it's you here. Not that he's intent to forgive you anyway. You're just going to have to accept this as mission failure, flower hidden by your hand returned to your 'dex, cyan eyes watchful on Eri. You just need to make an appropriate escape.

The Magic An0n: The rat sits on the counter's edge like a person, feet dangling, ankles crossed, staring eerily at the pair with burning cyan eyes. He's behind Eri, but Saness could easily spot him.

Eri: "...Yeah, I get it. I should have just accepted it. But I know you. That would obviously do something weird. Yes, yes, not bad, just weird."

Saness: Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Though you notice An0n (whose appearance in the room sends a panicked chill down your spine), you keep your attention rather fixed on Eri. Wouldn't want him turning around right now! An0n could give you away any number of ways, and you are forced to trust that they won't just... ruin you. The game must go on. "Not everything I do is bad, or weird. Maybe I'll come around again later to give you my gift, when you're feeling more... interesting." There. A jab. Just a teeny insult to assert yourself.

Eri: "Oh come the fuck on, I'm plenty interesting. You've made me plenty interesting." Just to prove what you mean, you let your horns spark a little with violet psi. "You're not even going to tell me what the gift is?"

Saness: "Now where's the fun in that?"

The Magic An0n: The rat hops down from the counter, and it's a cat before its paws hit the floor. A soft, quiet landing. Casual, graceful padding towards Eri's legs, sitting on his haunches just out of sight behind the seadweller's legs. He's absolutely riling Saness up intentionally. That cheshire grin sure looks at place and surreal on a cat's face, all at once.

Eri: "You want fun? We could go to the arena again, that was a lot of fun."

Saness: Sweating intensifies beneath the veneer of An0n, for you could not possibly provide this arena and you know An0n is being a fuck to mess with you. Maybe they're going to toss you under the bus anyway; you are at once the obstacle in the road and the driver of the bus poised to run yourself over, of which you are very well aware. "Not the curious sort, are you. How disappointing." Can you goad him into anything? You doubt it. You doubt everything. You stick your hands in your pockets, unblinking, intent in your gaze.

Eri: "I was already askin', you can't call me curious for shit." He's trying to fuck with you, you get that now, you won't let him. Instead, you move, turning to head towards the cage where that rat he gave you is.

The Magic An0n: An0n also looks towards the cage. While Saness cannot provide, he can.

Saness: You are completely clueless toward the significance of the rat in the cage, turning your attention coolly and calmly toward Eri as he heads that way even as you remain certain that maintaining such an elevated pulse for such an extended period of time is bad for your health. "You don't even want to try it? Clinging to the tested, when what I'm offering you could be so much better."

Eri: "I know you'll come up with something different. And combat chaos is always good, right?" Of course, you need to go up to the bedroom, since that's where the cage is, since that's where you last put it down.

The Magic An0n: Oh boy. The cat rises to pad along after him.

Saness: You're going to follow him with a sinking sense of dread, because the jig is almost up and you have yet to convince him to put this darn plant in his mouth. What can you even say? Nothing.

Eri: You arrive up here, heading over to the cage immediately, looking into it at the little rat fella. From the other set of stairs, the one you didn't just use, the head of an Angel peers.

Saness: Oh fuck, what is that? Luckily Eri didn't just see the incredibly surprised expression on your borrowed face when you glance over the angel.

The Magic An0n: Soft padding of a cat. He waits for Saness to arrive, then moves to her, climbing up her illusion to rest blended into the shoulder, as if it were solid. Cyan eyes close to mere slits, watching in silence, closed-mouth still curved up wide.

Eri: The Angel looks back at Saness. It says nothing, and does not move. You reach into the cage, retrieving the rat, watching it for a while as it scurries around your hand. "Ready to fight again, An0n?"

The Magic An0n: "Quite," he says, right up by the head of the illusion so it sounds natural, regardless of Saness's feelings or response.

Saness: !!!!! This is very bad. Your expression is one of natural alarm, eyebrows lifted slightly on a face too shocked for any real expression. You probably look very neutral, beyond An0n's smoky-dark eyebrows.

Eri: You nod to yourself, take a deep breath, and squeeze.

The Magic An0n The rat squeals its pain, then white blood coats Eri's fingers as usual. Likely gruesome to Saness.  Of course, after that, no one is here at all. All three bodies, where they stand, are now suspended in a void of black. 

----------

Sollux: You arrive at the ground level of the lighthouse with your matesprit filled with dread and foreboding just moments afterward. You're practically dragging him to go up the stairs with you. Unfortunately, you will find nothing.

----------

The Magic An0n: World of black where they can only see each other. Feel free to respond to that sudden change before I start the reveal of location.

Eri: For you, this is expected. You turn back towards An0n.

Saness: You are stunned, frightened, and very much rigid with that same neutral expression of shock. This is not what you'd intended at all. Arena? Arena? You're no fighter. Your cyan stare looks over Eri impassively from head to toe. Good job, Saness. Really nailed it this time.

The Magic An0n: The floating "trolls" fund themselves landing in a soft thump on their feet on the ground. It feels hard and only mildly forgiving, and moments afterward, the light radiates outward. The ground is dark earth, with scattered sprouts of grass. In front of them, trees, trees so tall they block out the sun with their combined branches even in this clearing. It's a forest. Animals gather at the perimeter, pastel-pale with white eyes.

An0n stands up on Saness's illusion's shoulder and stretches in a curl, revealing himself.

"You should have listened to her~" he teases, almond-shaped cyan eyes locked on Eri. "She was trying to save you."

A kick backwards with the cat foot, and the entire illusion's head dissolves into black smoke. He jumps onto the ground with sinking impact for the distance, straightening himself on four paws. Saness's entire illusion melts away in that smoke, revealing the limeblood for what she is. A giggle, and An0n starts bounding off between them, behind them. When they turn around, they'll find themselves faced with a triangular opening in a mossy cliff face, thirty feet tall at its peak and fifteen wide at the base. Clawmarks around the edges and the ground indicate that something very large lives here, and the small black cat bounds in. Nothing about this situation implies that he should be followed.

Eri: You don't think to follow him anyway, considering you don't watch which way he goes. No, you're too busy staring at An0n-- Saness-- first with wide eyes, then, for just a fraction of a second, a feeling of deep hurt and betrayal, before it's washed away with pure anger, and you sneer. "YOU!"

Saness: It seems that you are having a technical malfunction, too utterly wrecked to really react when An0n leaps away and dissolves your disguise. You racked up the cost with your gambling, and now you have to foot the bill. Betrayal, again. This time though, you knew what you were doing. "Me."

The Magic An0n: A loud noise comes from the cavern. There's bigger things to worry about at the moment.

Eri: "You-- You fuckin'--" You look over, just for a moment, at the noise.

Saness: You turn to see that claw-scraped cavern, distracted from Eri in that instant.

The Magic An0n: Heavy footsteps from within start making their way out, not loud but easily felt by the trolls at the mouth.

Eri: Again, for a moment, you turn back to her. "I'll deal with you in a moment. Stay out of my damn way." And so, you turn and start storming towards the cave.

Saness: Gulp. Those tremors belong to something big, but it's Eri's motion that makes you snap to reality, following him immediately. "Wait!! You want to fight it in an enclosed space??"

The Magic An0n: Giant cyan eyes burn out from the darkness, and a roar sounds to warn Eri to stay back. The arena is the clearing. Stepping halfway out of the opening is a massive dragon, cyan eyes and ebony black scales. The wings are folded, but by it's movements, it's easy to see that this beast is specifically a wyvern. Large claws connected to heavy wings step forward and curve into the dirt, just the right size for the clawmarks in the stone. Its mouth opens, white-blue flames in its throat. It's wearing glasses, clearly, it's An0n.

"Perhaps the two of you together can try this beast on for size, hmm?"

When the black smoke dissolves away, a white dragon is left behind with the blue flames, and it roars.

Eri: Your steps stop once the beast comes into view, and you instinctively retrieve your cutlass from your Sylladex, entering a fighting stance. You're not afraid. You can do this. A fight's chaos, but you're a tactician. You can do this.

Saness: Together? Is An0n mad?? You're all about teamwork, but Eri... He won't work with you. Not before, and not now. You're not a fighter, you're not, but you trot up to be parallel with Eri, a few feet away for maneuverability, and change your specibus to Make-Believe-Kind. Your other weapons are useless here, but you can't sit back and do nothing.

The Magic An0n: A distance away, An0n manifests as his typical Chu form, floating pleasantly on his tail to watch the hell that's about to go down. Hope Saness has good reaction time with those barriers, because they're both about to get bathed in flames.

Eri: You don't have enough time to dodge out of the way. You still do, of course, but things get very hot for you. Yeah you're burning.

Saness: It would be over pretty quickly for you if you weren't quick with your barriers, because you are not agile and not a trained combatant. Eri can't burn when you're building walls for the both of you though. You'll stay closer next time to keep the heat off, so to speak, since he seems a little singed. "Sorry!"

Eri: You're too busy crying out in pain to respond to Saness, but you eventually get back onto your feet, and just try and charge this thing with your sword in hand.

The Magic An0n: It comes forward and tries to swipe at Eri with a large claw from its forelimb. It sees and recognizes the Sharp thing as a shiny. Its scales are too sturdy for the sword to have any effect, Eri will soon find. At best, he'll be able to damage the wing membrane or some delicate facial features.

Saness: Fuck, okay. It's going to be an on-off game with your barriers with an attack strategy like that; they have to come up to block things and go down to allow him to strike. You take to the sky so as to split up the target range and (sorry dragon) play interference by yanking viciously on its claws to derail the swipe into the soil. There is no barrier on Eri presently.

Eri: You hit scale, and it does pretty much nothing, and you end up hit by a claw. It doesn't cut you too bad, but it does pierce, and send you flying back, hitting the ground hard, and losing your sword.

Saness: Wow, he still managed to be hit by the claw even as you'd moved it off course. Maybe you moved it into his dodge, who knows. What you do know is that apparently Eri is shit at fighting, because he looks like a damned mess. The barrier goes back over him while he recovers and you focus on bodily shoving the dragon around. "Hey!"

The Magic An0n: The dragon is distracted successfully! It tries to reach out and snap at Saness with its teeth. Nom!

Eri: Okay, you're injured, and mad, and god dammit. You get to your feet again, shakily, and clutching your chest.

Saness: You yelp when jaws snap against your barrier, reshaping it to have sharp spikes of force protruding from it. Bleed, fool. Biting is rude!

The Magic An0n: Exactly one spike gets inside its mouth, and pearly white blood flows from that new wound between its teeth. The scales are tougher, and this just makes it mad. It rears back and spreads its wings, looks like it's about to fly after her. Right now, she's the bigger threat.

Eri: You need to do something, here. You equip a much better weapon, and with Ahab's Crosshairs in your hands, you open fire on the beast.

Saness: > RIP Saness The Magic An0n: The force of the weapon sends the beast toppling into the cliff face. It's not injured, but it's clear that Ahab's force is enough to send it reeling. Target changed. Eri is now the bigger threat. It lunges forward, throwing its tail like a scorpion's sting to hit the weapon.

Saness: > Oh wait, there was a barrier on Eri. Wouldn't it have blasted him too before breaking through? > Saness, two for two.

Eri: You essentially just fired at a wall right in front of you. You're blown back, whole front hurt from the explosion, and you're on the ground injured when the tail comes. It hits you dead on. Something inside you cracks.

Saness: The familiar sound of Ahab’s firing and the sharp mental ache of your barrier being destroyed stuns you for a moment, makes you lose altitude and prevents you from acting when the dragon lashes out at Eri. You can see the strike hit home, see him laying there bleeding. That could be a corpse. Right now. He might be a corpse. He could be dead, right now, and it would be your fault. You panic. No no no! What are you doing?? You slam into the dragon with your psi, using sharp edges to shred at its wings. "Come on!!"

The Magic An0n: The dragon is distracted by the pain of its wings shredding. It flaps them, spraying white-hot pearly blood at her, then turns away from the prey to screech, grounded from the damage. Successful interference of body eating, it is now standing over Eri's body.

Eri: You are currently not in a position to get up, what with all the pain you're in. Honestly, everything is a blur. Did your glasses get knocked off?

Saness: Okay, not enough to really do anything, but at least the dragon isn't- isn't attacking Eri.

But Eri isn't moving. Maybe the dragon doesn't need to attack him anymore.

"Come on!!" you repeat, scared and teary. Tears don't help, coward. You slice at the dragon's face with your psi, aiming for that maw opened in a screech, prying at the jaws to keep that mouth open. If Eri would only get up, and fire into that mouth... You don't want to believe that he could be dead.

The Magic An0n: It snarls and shakes its head viciously, drool splattering. How strong is Saness's barrier? Because the soft peeps coming from inside the cave seem to refuel the dragon's rage, and it's lunging after her, trying to crush the barrier holding its jaws open with impressive power.

Eri: You try to get up, find out that's really painful, and proceed to K.O.

Saness: !! Eri moved! Even if you were strong enough to hold the dragon's jaw open (probably not for any extended period of time), that movement is enough to distract you, and the barrier shatters in that sharp mouth. Another yelp as you lose several feet of altitude, again, dizzy with the effect of that blow.

The Magic An0n: Teeth click together loudly and it cries at her, trying to fly but failing thanks to tattered membranes, it does not lift. Instead, it tries to slap Saness out of the air with long fingerbones.

Saness: You manage to throw up a barrier in time to prevent yourself from taking damage, but the swipe brings you down to the soil, grounding you. You need to get to Eri, so you grab those fingerbones in your barrier and attempt to engage a crocodile death roll with the dragon.

Eri: Zzzz.

The Magic An0n: The dragon does not roll with her psi, and instead those fingerbones break. Instantly, it tries to bite. Animal that it is, it's not afraid of trying to bite the limbs off to survive, even if that would mean death later.

Saness: Oh god, you feel immediately sickened, releasing the dragon and darting farther away from Eri, hoping to lure the dragon and distract it while you lift Eri in your psi. You just have to grab him and then you can both leave, that's all you have to do. Come on, surely An0n sees that you've both lost! Do they seriously intend to kill you??

The Magic An0n: An0n is watching in delight the whole time. The blood though, the scent of burning blood attracts it. With broken fingers and an injured mouth, it decides that Saness isn't worth chasing. It turns back to Eri instead. Throwing a heavy claw down on the troll's chest with enough strength to shatter his ribcage, it curves its head around to get its teeth under his head, lifts its claw, then sucks his whole torso in before picking him up. Gonna do the bird thing to swallow him whole by lifting him up in the air.  This is a good time for Saness to try pulling him out, cause he'll get bitten in half in an attempt to keep the prey.

Eri: Welp. You don't got much more to contribute here.

Saness: To have smashed Eri in that manner was to smash your psi that held him as well, and you fumble helplessly as the dragon consumes your friend-not-friend, staggering in place. You are now momentarily frozen in horror.

The Magic An0n: Swallow! Down the troll goes effortlessly. If he wasn't dead from the chest smash, he will be momentarily. The dragon turns to Saness now. It looks ready to go eat her, too.

Saness: You can't just leave Eri.

But he's dead.

But you can't just leave him-

But he's dead!

But-

You watched the dragon eat him.

You turn your gaze away from the dragon and up to An0n where he floats, defeated and weary, too stunned for tears. Is this what they wanted? This isn't just chaos, it's so much worse.

The Magic An0n: In her defeat, the dragon closes in, about to clamp its jaws around her torso sideways. Right before the teeth make impact, the dragon freezes like stone. Three baby peepers make concerned noises at the mouth of the cave.

Saness: You stagger backwards out of the stony mouth, part of your mind screaming about how you almost let yourself die, but the rest of you is sad and wretched and awful. You deserve it, if Eri remains dead. Will he remain dead? You don't know. Would An0n really kill him? You don't know. A glance at the frozen dragon, then up to An0n, and then you're sullenly making your way around the rigid reptile in order to better see the source of the peeping concern. Babies? Baby dragons?

The Magic An0n: They are indeed baby dragons. They run out to their frozen mother, before they too freeze. An0n comes to a drop on top of the dragon's head, the mother, who begins to disintegrate slowly into the air like magic from her highest point.

"I think it's about time I sent you back."

Saness: "What? Wait, what about Eri?"

An0n has your undivided attention, some modicum of clarity returning to you for being addressed, and for the promise of going back, hope and dread warring across your features.

The Magic An0n: An answer is not provided. Instead. He floats again once the head beneath him disintegrates, and the baby dragons turn to dust too. Eri's body crumples to the ground where the dragon's stomach was, clear damages to his clothes and flesh from the highly acidic environment in combination with the burns and lacerations he'd already received. Before Saness can even go to him though, An0n's voice echoes through her very soul.

"Go back."

She doesn't get a choice, for when she blinks next, she'll find herself standing in the middle of the hive she'd built for herself and Ringleader.

[doomonfilm]

Review : His House (2020)

From George Romero to Jordan Peele, horror has not only shocked viewers, but at times, has opened their eyes to bigger issues of racism, oppression, misogynistic behavior and homophobia.  With 2020 not only being a watershed year for independent film (where horror thrives) but for social awareness as well, it would’ve been a shame if the horror genre didn’t take advantage of the moment to tell a terrifying story with equally terrifying symbolic implications.  Luckily for us, Netflix gave us a Halloween gift in the form of His House. 

Rial (Wunmi Mosaku) and Bol (Sope Dirisu) are freshly relocated to London after losing their daughter Nyagak (Malaika Abigaba) while trying to free their former war-torn home in the South Sudan.  While mourning the loss, the couple spends 3 months in holding before they are assigned a home on the outskirts of London.  While grateful, the couple cannot help but notice the rundown, bleak state of the home, but they make an attempt to settle in regardless.  These efforts are met with opposition in the spiritual form, sending the couple spiraling in two directions : Rial believes that a witch has followed them to their new home, while Bol is driven to the edge of madness due to his fear and obsession.  With little hope for the future, and zero thoughts of returning home, the couple locks down to face an unknown threat, and in turn, face their uncertain future.

His House handles the vast complexity of its subject matter, subtext and symbolism boldly, turning the familiarity of films like The Amityville Horror into richer, more nuanced experiences.  For many immigrants, asylum seekers and refugees, the opportunity to start anew is often treated like a gift and with the respect it deserves, but this does not erase the pain that comes with leaving everything you know behind.  Remi Weekes takes this concept and turns it into a form of psychological horror and terror that, combined with the loss Rial and Bol experienced with their daughter Nyagak’s death, pits the two against one another as they both fight for their sanity.  The ancestral ghosts and the belief that a witch has followed them to their new home work in tandem with poverty and squalor the couple is placed into, creating a “lesser of two evils” philosophical debate that, in itself, would be a horror to deal with.  

Thoughtfully, the existence of real world racism is kept in the story, and based on their London setting, is doled out by both Black and White Londoners.  This inclusion keeps the movie grounded in a harsh reality while also helping further enrich our connection to Rial and Bol.  The love between Rial and Bol is clearly strong in its presentation, but it is put to the ultimate test as they, along with the viewer, escape one set of fantastic horrors only to be thrown directly into a living memory of their real world horrors.  The feeling of no resolution created by the absence of escape options induces a very palatable stress in the viewer, who much like our protagonists, are given little reprieve from the horrors packed into the 90 minute run time of His House.  Even with the exploitative nature of horror films, it felt like all of the African-based aspects were given the utmost respect and not used for exploitation.

The dreary, lived-in look of the film not only symbolizes London as a location, but it firmly establishes the lack of optimism presented to Rial and Bol, which flies firmly in their efforts to move forward from their tragic past.  Rather than opting for cheap shock, the film uses practical effects and well-paced swings between silence and a haunting score to build its terror.  The story it tells is definitely a sad one, so it makes sense that the weight of parallel symbolic and reality-based narratives running in harmony hits hard with its resonance.  The production design on the house creates an immediate unsettling feeling, as if the only words in its visual language are ones of despair.  The film’s resolution teeters on the edge of corniness, but manages to handle itself without going too far out of control.

Wunmi Mosaku carries a dignity with her that is built out of the wake of trauma, as if she is capable of overcoming any horror that is placed in front of her.  Sope Dirisu uses a sort of targeted desperation, as if only one outcome is acceptable, and any other option is not only unquestionable, but overly costly.  Matt Smith plays the authority figure with the right balance of business-based respect and cautious optimism, making his threats to lay the law down feel as real as his ability to help bring a sense of peace to the proceedings.  Emily Taaffe plays well in a key scene with Mosaku, while Malaika Abigaba, Javier Botet and Cornell John use haunting physicality in non-speaking roles.

Horror can be entertaining on its own, but when used to shed light on equally horrific but more grounded in reality topics, it can be a powerful tool for awakening.  Due to streaming taking precedence in the industry, horror definitely had its moment in the sun in 2020, but His House is one of the few horror films that is a cut above the rest.