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delicrieux · 4 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand)

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it.

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge.

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too.

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view.

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”.

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute.

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets.

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance.

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?”

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over.

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae.

looking hot, her message read.

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse social media au #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #myso #make you say oh

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worth-more-than-two-thousand · 3 years

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Omega’s Observations

Request: Congrats on starting the blog!! Pumped to have a new writer's work to read 🥰 If you need some requests, how about an echo/gn!medic reader who he develops a crush on, for a little of that sweet sweet mutual pining action✨ Dunno if you write pre-citadel or just BB echo, but I'm happy with either. Have a good weekend!! :) (@krussyfed)

Author’s Note: Whew! This took a while for me to get to a place where I felt good about posting it. Honestly, as most of my writing does, it got a bit away from me, but that’s because I love fleshing out a story, showing-not-telling, and building on events from the canon. But if I saw this through until the end, I probably wouldn’t end up posting this for months! So I hope what I have here is worth the wait, and if you want more, let me know!

Story Notes: Unbeta’ed, no obvious warnings.

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Ask her brothers to describe her, and ‘still and quiet’ would not be two of the words any of them would use.

Hunter would call her curious to a fault, then ruffle her hair to let her know that he meant it in the nicest way possible.

Wrecker would boom with laughter, proclaiming her one of them (“Always ready for action and adventurin’! Let’s go get those gundarks!”).

Tech would probably consider for a moment, then use a four-syllable word. Like effervescent.

Echo would call her young and energetic, but his brow would furrow as though this might be a bad thing. Then he would inevitably follow up with a reminder to stay within sight and keep out of trouble. She didn’t mind. She knew he just worried about her. Omega would always reassure him that she would keep close to her brothers. Of course, whether it actually happened was usually another thing.

Crosshair, if he was with them, would probably call her troublesome.

But really, this was a tactical advantage. Her brothers never expected her to be still and quiet, so she could settle in and be observant when it was least expected of her.

Omega was actually quite accustomed to being taciturn, at least when she needed to be. Her time with Nala Se, after all, was mostly like this.

Watching over like a stone guardian as Nala Se pored over the capsules containing her modified brothers…

...being as unobtrusive as possible during another endless meeting with Lama Su…

...laying noiselessly and without complaint as Nala Se inserted a needle into her arm for yet another blood sample…

These days, Omega could be as boisterous and vivacious (two more words Tech had taught her) as she wanted to be, so long as there was no chance of enemies being around. The only time she was obediently still by choice during these times was when she was being treated by Y/N, Clone Force 99’s on-board medic.

Again, this was mostly out of habit from her time with Nala Se, but it wasn’t as bad. For one thing, Y/N fielded all of Omega’s questions with unending patience. And their hands were less clinical, more gentle than Omega was used to. Nala Se was efficient, not a movement wasted in her examinations. Y/N, however, always offered a comforting touch on the back after a scary encounter, and would gently but firmly place their hands on Omega’s face to look her in the eye to assess emotional well-being.

The first time Y/N had done this was on the Ordo Moon, as Y/N was finishing wrapping up Omega’s small scratches on her hands and knees from her misadventures in the underground tunnels.

At this point, not used to such close eye contact, Omega averted her eyes and looked over Y/N’s shoulder for something to distract her from the unusual awkwardness she felt.

Her eyes met Echo’s.

Her awkwardness vanished as he seemed to startle, a faint flush appearing on his neck, as he coughed, crossed his arms, and turned away, suddenly much more interested in examining the ship’s ceiling than anything else.

What an interesting reaction. Her brain filed it away, curiosity piqued.

Then, over the course of a few weeks, Omega confirmed her suspicions.

Echo was always watching Y/N. Echo liked Y/N.

Omega caught him absentmindedly gazing at Y/N’s hands as they tapped thoughtfully on a datapad while Wrecker carried new medical inventory aboard the Marauder during a supply run.

After Wrecker’s successful inhibitor chip removal on Bracca, and Tech volunteered to go next, Omega watched Y/N’s hands fly across the medical controls, fierce determination sharpening their features. Glancing up, she saw that Echo’s attention was similarly arrested, a look on his face that was bordering very close to adoration.

He seemed most captivated by Y/N’s hands, however, whenever they were treating him personally for any ailments or injuries. Echo always sat pin straight, almost comedically robotic (it would be funnier, but his history brought a sort of cruel irony to the thought) and allowing Y/N to turn his body and maneuver his prosthetic arm however was needed without any fidgeting or complaint.

But his eyes were another story. Darting back and forth everywhere their fingers touched, such a stoniness to his face that Omega was certain he was committing every graze, every feather-light touch, to memory. Y/N, as always, was so focused on the medical work that they never seemed to notice.

Omega saw things, though. Echo was like Y/N’s shadow, often slipping into the same room or area Y/N was in, like a ghost. She observed with fascination how he always angled himself to face her whenever there was a conversation in the cockpit. It didn’t matter if it was just the two of them, or if the entire squad was there and discussing a mission, it was as though he had attuned himself to wherever Y/N happened to be and was drawn to them.

Like a sunflower always facing the sun.

She saw in the field how Echo, not Hunter, was usually the one to call the Marauder to check in or alert Y/N to any injuries that would need to be treated when they returned. How the space between his brows would crease whenever they would radio in but only receive the static of communications interference.

Or worse, no answer at all.

Echo wouldn’t say anything, but Omega felt that her brother’s steps would quicken, just a little. And she wasn’t sure she was just imagining a sudden sense of urgency in the air as they completed the mission, with just a bit more efficiency, a bit more ruthlessness than was usual.

Omega saw how Echo always let out a tiny breath in relief, as though he had been holding it the whole time, whenever they returned to the Marauder with its medic unharmed.

And she would never forget that one time they had returned to the Marauder, doors blasted open, interior trashed, with no medic in sight and droplets of blood leading away from the ship.

Omega had never been in war, had only heard about it passively from the conversations between Nala Se and Lama Su, then a bit more directly from her brothers once she was allowed out of the private lab.

She had once asked Tech about the war, but his response clearly paled in comparison to the dark look on Echo’s face, as they battled their way through enemy after enemy to rescue Y/N.

Omega felt as though she understood war a little bit more after this. At least its motivations.

It took longer for Omega to figure out whether her brother’s feelings were reciprocated. Y/N’s affection wasn’t as obvious, but the trick was to watch more for their actions than in body language.

Since Y/N and Tech slept the least, they would swap bunks and so were usually on opposite sleep schedules. This meant that Y/N would stay up late into the night well after the rest of the boys had retired to their bunks, face alight in the glow of a datapad. They would concentrate fiercely, chewing on their thumbnail and pausing often to tap notes into the margins.

Omega eventually managed to snatch and break into Y/N’s data pad, and saw that they were working their way through a series of medical journals, detailing the latest treatment for prosthetics. There were also several articles on treating post-traumatic stress disorder for former prisoners of war.

Omega had even checked Y/N’s search history, and discovered that they had been using an encrypted channel to search for chatter on the whereabouts of the former 501st legion and its various members. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Y/N had much luck so far, but if the number of searches were any indication, they weren’t giving up.

Omega wondered incredulously how none of her other brothers had yet caught on to the two’s clearly mutual affection for each other. Until she realized that no, they already knew.

Once, when Omega had offered Echo some of her Mantell Mix, Echo had sniffed it, much to her amusement. Her giggles subsided immediately when Echo murmured apologetically that he sometimes had trouble digesting pretty much any food that wasn’t nutritional paste, due to half his digestive system being completely artificial.

Of course, this meant that he must have been experiencing constant abdominal discomfort, as they hadn’t had any nutritional paste on the ship since their escape from Kamino. Hunter once mentioned to her that even the plainest of rations seemed to bother him, but he gamely never complained.

One day, Hunter was giving out rations in the cockpit, and had already given Tech and Wrecker their usual. Then he pulled out a green, unlabeled squeeze packet instead of the usual rations bar, and handed it to Echo, who took it with some confusion.

“What’s this?”

“New brand. It should be easier on your digestive systems than the usual stuff. Tastier, too.”

Echo glanced at the packet skeptically, unscrewing the cap and sniffing at its contents.

“It smells...fresh?”

“Try it,” Hunter urged him, to which Echo obediently tried a small amount.

His mouth rounded in a surprised ‘oh’. Omega wished she could have captured the look on his face with a holovid. He stared at the packet in his hands, with a look that was a bit like wonder and amazement.

This didn’t escape Wrecker’s notice, who immediately stood up in protest. “What? Why does Echo get something new to eat?” He glanced forlornly at the slightly crumpled, stale rations bar in his hand. “I want some!”

“They’re too expensive for your appetite, Wrecker,” Hunter replied, just a bit too quickly, though none of the others seemed to notice. “Besides, you probably wouldn’t like it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Wrecker proclaimed, swiping the packet from Echo’s hands despite Hunter’s attempt to chastise him. Wrecker took a giant slurp.

...and immediately spat it out, some of it splattering on poor Gronk.

“Blech! That tastes weird.”

“Probably because it’s made of fruits and vegetables,” Tech said dryly, “Your palette likely isn’t sophisticated enough to appreciate the subtle bitterness and natural sweetness that are characteristic of those food categories.”

Echo eyed Hunter skeptically. “And we have the money to keep buying these?”

Hunter hummed, closing the rations box and turning away from the cockpit. “Omega’s paying for it from her holochess winnings.” She startled at the sudden mention of her name. “We have extra to spare, for now.” Hunter subtly winked at her when the others weren’t looking.

“Oh. Thank you, Omega,” said Echo, looking at her with true gratitude. Omega flushed a bit, but mostly because it actually didn’t have anything to do with her. She played along, however, and insisted it was no problem. It did seem to make him happy, so there was no harm in a small lie like that, right?

She cornered Hunter later, though, and insisted on him telling her the truth. After wearing him down a bit, he finally relented.

“Okay, but you can’t tell the others, all right? Believe me, I’ve already tried to talk them out of it. But Y/N has been doing some medical work on the side, working at one of the clinics near Cid’s bar. They’ve been using the money to buy these.”

Omega’s face screwed up in confusion. “Why can’t you just tell Echo that?”

Hunter sighed. “Because they don’t want Echo to know. Figures that Echo wouldn’t like them going out on their own to work in the slums for his sake. They’re probably right, of course.” He rubbed at his forehead, a sure sign of an impending headache.

Omega frowned, then decided to go for it.

“You know they like each other, right?”

Hunter blinked at her, looking surprised. At her determined stare, he gave a sigh and muttered something like, ‘I’m getting too old for this’. He proceeded to explain patiently to her that perhaps Echo and Y/N liked each other, but pointed out how awkward or difficult it could be to have a romantic relationship in such close quarters, especially when they as a team also had bigger things to worry about.

It sounded like Hunter had given this exact speech at least twice before.

So Tech and Wrecker knew, then, but were being polite about it (or, in Wrecker’s case, had probably gotten an earful from Hunter earlier about tact and ‘minding one’s own business’).

Well. That wouldn’t do.

By the time Echo got up the nerve to say anything, he’d probably be old! (Omega wouldn’t, but she tried not to think too hard about that particular fact.)

So, she began to scheme. Quietly.

She had the tactical advantage, after all.

#fic request #arc trooper echo #echo x you #echo x reader #echo #tbb echo #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #tbb omega #echo x g/n reader #unbeta'd

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 132

Yes, I know... it’s late again :(

I realized at about 1030a this morning, when I was 30 miles and a minimum of 7 hours from my computer. The guilt was real.

Also, I recently upgraded computers, so I apologize for any editing errors. Honestly, I don’t have my preferred word processing program on here to check and make sure all my flavor editing is done correctly, so I’m probably going to come back and re-do it when that’s available. However, I PRIDE myself on the fact that I may post a few hours late, but never the next day! (even though my deadline is technically Tues or Thurs each week?. I dunno)

Quick kudos to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for being my writing team!

The next morning, I staggered into work very much regretting the onions that I dared to put on the table the night before - I had only gotten a few hours sleep the night before thanks to two rather tall men who shared a tendency to snore like congested warthogs. Fortunately, Vati and Hannah were off today, so I didn’t have to hide the gargantuan yawns every few minutes.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t spared from the sarcastic wit of my assistant, who breezed in the door and simply arched an eyebrow at me. “Hmm, having a coffee day, I see.”

“I can’t look that tired,” I grumbled, shoving my hair out of my face and sulking into my cup - which unfortunately did contain coffee, as predicted.

“You do smell that tired, I am afraid. And by you, I mean the deplorable muck you are drinking.”

Alistair wasn’t a fan of coffee, obviously, but I was admittedly drinking a really strong cup of it. “The guys had a terrifying amount of onions with dinner last night,” I confessed.

To my satisfaction, he wrinkled his nose. “Delightful.” He also despised onions, more so than he did coffee. “Fortunately, you have quite a sparse schedule this morning.”

Shaking my head, I broke the news to him. “Change of plans. Xio got the list of shelter locations back to me and Tyche yesterday, ironically after we had been complaining about not having them. Pretty sure she was listening in.”

The eyebrow arched again. “Another ‘sensor test’, I assume?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I shrugged. “We wanted the list, we got the list. And an ersatz apology in the form of which area can hold how many people, which makes our end much easier. Bump it up against a map of who is closest to which location, and half our work is done.”

I flicked the list to the emitter on the conference table, and got started. Since Parvati and Hannah were up to their eyeballs in their plotting for the Food Festival, and our job had been significantly lightened in regards to deciding shelter locations, I made the executive decision to take the lead on this project and pull in Tyche for assistance if Alistair and I needed it. Maybe Arthur if I got desperate for extra help, but working with him and Alistair at the same time was chancy at best - they spent so much time snarking at each other, it could be harder to get work done than if I did it alone sometimes.

Soon, Alistair and I had a map of the Ark, with all shelter locations highlighted and the data from Xiomara’s report overlaid. I had my head down, programming the shelter locations to change color when the capacity limits Xiomara provided were reached, when Alistair noticed something. “Why, pray tell, are the Archives on this map?”

I didn’t even look up. “Probably because it’s the furthest location on the ship from the real-space engines, so it’s the safest place if someone tries to blow those.”

“You are mistaken.” He tapped on the table to get my attention. “The Archives are right on top of the engines, which is why it was available for use: when it was empty, the room was so noisy it was difficult to be in there for more than a handful of minutes.”

Shaking my head, I tapped the ‘front’ of the ship to highlight it. “These are the real-space engines, apparently. When we drop out of relativistic space, these will fire to start slowing us down as we approach Von. These,” I tapped the ‘back’ of the ship, “Are the relativistic engines, which we are using now, which is why that room was so loud when you found it. According to Noah, for safety purposes, they are housed at opposite ends of the ship. Also, pretty sure no one is going to try to blow the relativistic engines. Something quantum physics related that made sense but I would probably explain it wrong. Big boom, big shrink, no survivors is the gist.”

The disgusted look he gave my explanation was glorious. “So people will be in the Archives, no doubt touching things.”

“They’re books, Alistair. They are meant to be touched and read.” Glancing at the map, I was actually impressed - I never realized how large the Archives were. They made up nearly an entire deck, albeit the second-smallest on the Ark. “Hang on, someone is already assigned there? Did you do that?”

He scoffed. “I certainly did not, I assumed you had.”

“Nope. Must have been Xiomara,” I trailed off before tapping the icon indicating an assignment to see who it was.

I started to smile, only to be scared out of my mind by Alistair suddenly shouting. “NO! Absolutely not, I will go tell Councillor Kalloe myself. I - I shall duel her if need be! I refuse to allow this to occur.”

“Alistair, if you duel Xiomara, you’ll probably wind up dead. You know that right?”

“It is only over my dead body that you will be sheltering the Archives. Absolutely not.”

“I’m not going to hurt your precious books, you know that. If anything, I’ll be able to make sure no one else does, either.”

“Not going to hurt the books!?” he nearly shrieked. I was starting to worry about how hysterical he was getting before he pinched his nose and took a few breaths to calm down. “Madam Reid, I am aware that you will not, through deliberate action or mischance, directly harm a single item in that Archive. I am equally aware that there are certain things that you are distressingly oblivious to, one of which being your own poor luck, if events that take place after being rescued from a global infrastructure collapse can count as poor luck. I shall endeavor to clarify to you why I am so concerned with this.”

Uh oh. He was being very formal. This was never a good thing.

Before I could object, however, he forged on. “This entire planning exercise is aimed at what, precisely?”

“Designating shelters for non-combatants,” I answered slowly, confused.

“Shelters in the event of what?”

“If we are forcefully boarded in the month after we drop out of relativistic space?”

“Correct. Which is clearly a bad thing, true?”

“True…”

“And what, remind me, do you have a tendency to do when bad things happen?”

“Plow into the middle of them, which is probably why Xiomara wants me as far from potential combat as possible, so I can’t - “

“Dying, Madam Reid. You have a tendency of dying.”

“Almost dying,” I corrected meekly. I could unfortunately see where this was going.

“Whenever bad things happen on the Ark, the bad things find you,” he almost hissed. “And I would rather that they not find you in the middle of the only books - potentially the only artifacts, period - that we have from Earth.”

“It may distract them from killing me?” I pointed out.

The glare he gave me rivalled Tyche at her worst. I probably would have been flattened, had I not built up immunity to far more vicious gazes. “No, this won’t do at all. I must speak to Councillor Kalloe immediately. And quite likely to Farro. Let me update the less-endangered Reid that she shall need to arrive early to assist you…”

Any attempt I made to try to dissuade him from the abrupt shortening of his lifespan was ultimately ignored. As he tried to breeze past my sister, I resorted to grabbing his sleeve and physically stopping him. “Alistair! You cannot go fight Xiomara to make her put me somewhere else! It’s not worth it!”

He stopped in his tracks, confusion flooding his face. “Somewhere else? Madam Reid - please unhand me, thank you - whatever gave you that impression?”

“You - the books - dying… I’m so confused. What are you going to fight Xio about, then?”

“I cannot argue the logic of keeping you as far from the engines as possible, nor the logic of placing you as close to something that would deter any invading parties from making rash or reckless decisions. It is likely quite safer for the ship, in all honesty.”

“Then…?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I am going to speak to Xiomara about removing myself from the non-combatant list and instead being one of the persons assigned to the Archives to defend it from any hostile parties,” he admitted. “Farro will need to help me brush up on defensive techniques, but I am certain it will be easier to keep the Archives from disaster if I protect it myself.”

“Hey!” Tyche objected. “I’m already assigned to the Archives! She’ll be safe!”

Turning on a heel, he waved a hand over his shoulder dismissively. “You protect your sister from invaders. I shall protect the Archives from her.”

As the door closed behind him, she gave me a baffled look. “Long story,” I sighed. “I’ll explain while we start allocating people.”

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#the miys #humans are space orcs #found family #science fiction #humans are awesome #humans are weird #hfy #sophia is accident prone #aliens #apocalypse #post-apocalypse #post-post apocalypse #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #sci fi #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing #my writing

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a-n-conrad · 4 years

Text

Blue (Shoto Todoroki x Reader)

[Summary: Until you meet your soulmate, you can only see one color. The rest of the world is in black and white. But as soon as you touch your soulmate for the first time, the world is full of color. You’re a support student in UA, and as you start to get a little closer to one of the top students in hero class 1-A. Maybe you’ll finally get to see more colors. (They/Them pronouns)

Warnings: technical terms that I know nothing about, open ending

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/D9rsJtkERoBPaKvv8)]

It was hard to do support work when you could only see one color. The heroes and hero students wanted their new support items to match their costumes. Unless their costumes were all blue there was really no way for you color check them by yourself. You had to consult one of the people in your class that had already met their soulmates.

You were surprised how many people met their soulmates as children, meeting their soulmate through play-fighting or bumping into each other in the school hallways. They always seemed to have a dramatic story that they loved to tell. Over and over. Sometimes you were a little jealous. But you were sure that you’d find your soulmate eventually. Until then, you’d have to be satisfied with the color blue. At least you could see the sky.

“(Y/n),” Your teacher called you over. The hero class students were taking an exam pretty soon, so a lot of them were getting new support gear. Which was sort of like an exam for you, “This is Todoroki from hero class 1-A. He needs some new support gear. Think you could help make him something?”

As the boy turned, you noticed that his eyes were different colors. You couldn’t see the color of one of them, but one was the most stunning blue color you had seen in a long time. An icy blue, that somehow looked as though it had captured fire in it. You didn’t even notice the scar around it right away.

“Sure, I’m sure I can work something out,” You reply. Working with the 1-A kids was a privilege, and you weren’t going to pass up a chance to get to know this boy with the beautiful blue eye.

“Thank you,” He says to you before turning to Todoroki, “They should be able to make you some pretty good stuff. Even Aizawa won’t be able to fail you with the gear they’ll make you.”

You always enjoyed a bit of praise. Especially when it meant that you were getting talked up to this boy that made your heart flutter or some reason. You guided him over to your work table and pulled out your sketch pad. You liked to draw out your creations before you actually got to the tinkering stage. “Do you have your hero costume with you?” You asked. You liked to use the hero costumes as the base of your designs. That way your designed look good with the look of their costume as it was.

He nodded, pulling a large clump of dark blue fabric out of his bag, and setting it onto your work table. It was almost entirely blue, with a few details that you were pretty sure were white.

“Blue?” You asked.

“It’s the only color I can see,” He states, with no further explanation. He saw blue as well. It wasn’t a rare color to see, but your heart fluttered a little more at the realization that the blue-eyed boy with hair that seemed to split perfectly down the middle saw the same color as you. That it was even a little possible that he could be your soulmate.

“Nice, I see blue too, so I won’t have to ask for help with picking colors,” You say, trying your best to sound casual, “So what exactly do you need?”

“Well, there’s this classmate of mine with an invisibility quirk, and I almost froze her a couple times on accident,” You think that he sounds a little embarrassed, but he’s a little hard to read, “I realized that there are probably other people I’d run into with that quirk too, so maybe I should get something that helped me see where they were before I accidently froze them.”

It was sweet of him to consider his teammates. That wasn’t always something the pro heroes did, “So you have an ice quirk?”

“And fire.”

Oh. That made things a little more complicated. You’d have to make sure that whatever device you made wouldn’t melt or freeze. And since you figured a temperature sensor would be useful, you’d have to make sure that the temperature changes from Todoroki’s quirk wouldn’t interfere with the readings.

You opened a drawer in you desk, pulling out a thermometer, “Alright, I just need a few readings. How hot does your fire go?”

“Not sure.”

“Alright, make some fire as hot as you can,” You instruct, pointing the thermometer at the flame he creates. The fire comes from his left side. The side with the blue eye. And then, as you instructed him to create some ice, you noticed that it came from the other side. So his quirk was split down the middle. It was interesting.

You looked at his costume again, using your quirk to instantly create a drawing of it on the paper in front of you, and adding the readings you had gotten from the thermometer. You’d want to make sure that it could handle those temperatures, and more, just in case his quirk ended up going colder or hotter than it did now.

“Alright,” You stated, “I’ll try my best to have this done by tomorrow.”

- - - - -

It was a little hard to figure out, but eventually you got the device to what you thought was perfect. A pair of goggles, similar to working goggles, with a visual matrix in the lenses, plugged into a program that would run both visual and thermal data, and would highlight anything that had a thermal signature, but no visual one. Things like Todoroki’s invisible classmate should appear as a silhouette.

The design should look fine with his hero costume. It’s pretty compact, and mostly clear, aside from the little pieces that go over his ears. Those, you made the same shade of blue as his hero costume.

As soon as you had finally got it built and fine-tuned the program, it was already time for Todoroki to pick them up. He had to have time to test the goggles out before his exam started, so you were a little rushed. But the missing sleep was worth it.

Todorkoi seemed a bit more nervous than the last time you had seen him. He walked in with a few friends, and it looked as though they had been teasing him a little. You were curious what they were teasing him about, but you were sure that you weren’t close enough friends with him to really ask.

“How’s the training going?” You asked him, as Todoroki took a seat at your work station.

“Well enough, I suppose,” He said, “Midorya has started making new moves to himself. They’re pretty cool. He’s just still really nervous about the exam,” He paused for a second, “Wait, I’m sorry, you probably don’t know who Midoriya is.”

“Not really,” You admit. You didn’t really keep track of the hero students, “But I assume he’s a friend of yours?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m glad that his new moves are going well. I’m sure figuring powerful quirks like the ones a lot of you hero students have can be complicated,” You say. Your quirk wasn’t much help in a fight, so you were impressed at the abilities a lot of the students in the hero course had.

The two of you sat and talked for a while longer. You needed to make a few adjustments to make the goggles fit him better. And you didn’t want to sit in silence. He wasn’t super talkative, but when he did talk, it was good conversation. He was a little awkward, but you thought it was kind of cute.

As you were carefully adjusting the goggles on his face, one of his friends came over, a boy with light hair and a black lightning bolt. He was loud, and quite energetic, so you really weren’t surprised when he bumped directly into Todoroki. What you were surprised by was the flash of colors you had never seen before, the second you hand brushed against his face.

You both froze for a moment, looking around at the newly colorful world around you, before looking back at each other. All you could think to say was, “Your hair is red.”

[A/N: Thank you guys for all the responses to my request survey! I’m hoping to be able to get a lot more writing out in the future! BTW, I did add a few more theme options to the survey.]

#mha x reader #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki

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jennsterjay · 4 years

Photo

y’all I’m so excited to share this with you XDD

So I have this Adventure-style story idea that is driven by Knuckles’ and Shadow’s interactions with each other as they face a new threat. The story is called Never Turn Back From M.E. which is a fusion of Shadow’s Theme “Never Turn Back” and Knuckles’ Theme “Unknown from M.E.”

I hope you enjoy :) !

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Never Turn Back From M.E. [Full Plot]

Act 1: Knuckles and Shadow only know each other through their friends and comrades, but every time they try to interact they end up fighting due to one reason or another because they both have the tendency to square up and act tough rather than rely on others. Eventually they interact more because there are a growing number of problems happening on their planet due to the Master Emerald and the Chaos Emeralds acting up. As the Master Emerald Guardian and Master of Chaos Control, they go on more missions together to figure out what’s going on and learn that they’re not so different from each other after all. Between missions, they start to hang out more and Shadow visits Knuckles on his island from time to time and they talk about anything, everything, and sometimes nothing at all.

Act 2: Eventually Shadow asks Knuckles if he can help him control his raw energy so that he can learn to fight without his inhibitor rings, but still be in control of how much power he uses. Knuckles helps him by telling him to take off his rings while Knuckles himself acts as an inhibitor that regulates Shadow’s power when he powers up. He does this by holding Shadow in place by his arms. During this scene, since they’re on Angel Island the ground under him starts cracking from immense power and Knuckles asks him if it’s working. Shadow almost gives up because he admits his power is like this because he still has inner turmoil from his past. Knuckles reminds him of all the good that he’s done and that he still has a future he can protect and then Shadow finally accepts this. It’s then that he is able to finally control his power without his rings. After that, Shadow feels as though a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and laughs. Knuckles congratulates him and they really become close.

Act 3: Shadow acts slightly different. He’s still mostly the same stoic and ‘few words more action’ kinda guy, but he’s not as rough around the edges. He even interacts more with his friends on a personal level. His friends and comrades notice this, and they also notice that Knuckles seems to be the person he interacts with the most. When Shadow and Knuckles are alone one day, it’s then that Shadow realizes he’s fallen in love with him. He doesn’t outright admit it or say it, but when Knuckles catches signs like Shadow laughing around him, staring or making eye contact a bit too long, or Rouge straight up giving him massive hints, Knuckles realizes that he has feelings for him too...but he also has a duty as the Last Guardian of the Master Emerald, and tries to tell himself that his duty comes first.

Act 4: They address it, Shadow confesses first. He knows he may get rejected because Knuckles has a destiny, but he also knows Knuckles does have a social life with others despite his duty, so it’s at least worth a shot. When the words are finally in the air, Knuckles is torn as to what to do, and what he wants. Shadow understands this and gives him time to think about it. More chaos-related instances occur and seem to be getting worse with no lead and no source. Even Eggman is working with Tails and Eggman Nega who has also contacted the prime dimension to report that it’s happening in every dimension. A few days after, Shadow and Knuckles feel something shift on Angel Island and explore the disturbance together. A new part of the ruins has opened up that Knuckles has never seen before. They explore it and discover an ancient prophecy, one where the Last Guardian battles an interdimensional monster on Angel Island and sacrifices himself to save everyone. Knuckles thinks about how this is what he is here for, his destiny. However Shadow refuses to accept this. Shadow and Knuckles have a falling out over this, but Shadow comes back to tell him that he’s not alone and doesn’t have to do this by himself.

Act 5: Knuckles and Shadow’s friends and comrades as well as Silver, Blaze, and a few others that have traveled to their timeline all meet up on their planet to hear Knuckles account of what’s going on. Knuckles tells them about the prophecy and Shadow occasionally says more info, and Tails and the Eggman’s say their account of the data and research they’ve collected. They predict that the arrival of the interdimensional monster will be in three days, and they’ll have to stop it. Everyone plans and finishes collecting the Chaos Emeralds, Sol Emeralds, and other game related powerful items to prepare. Knuckles with his role as Guardian, and Shadow with his role as a tactician and G.U.N. Member means the two don’t interact much, but on the last night before the big day the two find each other because they don’t know if this will be the last time they’ll ever be with each other. Knuckles finally tells him he loves him, and they finally kiss and spend that night together at Shadow’s place and fall asleep together in each others arms.

Act 6 Final Story: Shadow wakes up but Knuckles isn’t there beside him. He has a sinking feeling about this and soon after he gets red alerts on his communicators. He thinks about last night an for a moment feels like he’s going to lose him, but he remembered what Knuckles said to him in Act 2, and Shadow smiles and says “no one can tell us what our destiny is, we make our own” and he leaves his place with newfound determination. Shadow arrives to the base of operations with everyone involved and everyone looks worried at Shadow. Shadow asks what’s wrong and what’s going on. Tails shows him that there is a giant chaos energy field around Angel Island and no one is able to get through. Knuckles is also trapped on the Island. Shadow breathes for a moment, then has his game face on. He asks if there was anything they could use, and Tails says Super Sonic tried to get through but got burnt out, Burning Blaze found a weak point but no entry, and Super Silver tried to create an opening with his telekinesis but it only thinned the barrier out somewhat... Shadow then says “Then how about you send me”.

Meanwhile Knuckles has woken up on Angel Island against his will and has resigned to completing his destiny. He’s aware that his friends are trying to get through the barrier, but even with the Master Emerald he couldn’t lower the barrier. There’s only 12 minutes left until Doomsday and Knuckles really thinks he’ll have to do it all alone. Suddenly the Master Emerald glows brightly until it becomes blinding, and when the light subsides Knuckles sees someone that he thought he’d never be able to see again. In his super form, surrounded by the Chaos Emeralds, Sol Emeralds, and other powerful items...was a slightly worn out Shadow the Hedgehog. Shadow the Hedgehog who had used the Master Emerald and other items to connect a portal and get back to him.

Knuckles walks towards him in disbelief and gives every excuse why he shouldn’t be here asks why he would do this, and Shadow runs and kisses him. He hugs him tight and then puts his hands on his shoulders so he can face him. Shadow says “Because you and me...we’re in this together and that’s a promise. No matter if the world is against you, or you’re at the end of your row, you’ll always have help at your side”. It’s then that Shadow lets go and uses all the items at once as well as the Master Emerald’s power and says Chaos Control. It’s then that Knuckles sees one by one as all of his friends, enemies, and comrades appear avengers style on Angel Island in their super/hyper/powerful forms and cheer and prepare for battle. Sonic and his friends who heard everything through Tail’s tech cheer Knuckles and Shadow on which momentarily embarrasses them and Shadow laughs while Knuckles is confused and a bit overwhelmed. Shadow refocuses and holds out his hand, and asks Knuckles “So Knuckles the Echidna...are you ready to do this together?” and Knuckles breathes and then smiles at Shadow and says “Yeah, let’s show that beast what were made of!” and the moment Knuckles grabs his hand he turns into Hyper Knuckles.

When Knuckles turns the hand grab into a hug, something else unexpected happens. A bright light shines where the two stand to reveal an entirely new person in a form greater than Hyper, Sol, and Super.

In Knuckles and Shadows highest combined form, and as a fusion of them both stands someone ready to take on any challenge, even destiny itself.

Primordial Knuxadow: “Are you all ready to do this??!!”

Everyone: YEAH!!

A golden helmet and armor forms on him, and the interdimensional being finally appears and roars.

Primordial Knuxadow: “Then let’s show them OUR destiny!!”

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(The End)

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swtorpadawan · 3 years

Text

Secret Messages

Author’s Note: The following story takes place sometime between chapters 13 and 16 of “Knights of the Fallen Empire”.

“That will be all everyone. Thank you.” Corellan Halcyon, the Alliance Commander concluded the meeting with the assembled command staff in the main conference room in the operations wing.

Vette gathered up her data pads. In less than two weeks, she’d made a place for herself here on Odessen. The skills she’d developed years ago as part of Kael’s old crew had netted her the position of communications specialist, which meant she had the chance to see the inner workings of the Alliance’s command structure first-hand. Indeed, Vette was one of only two aides present – the other being the Commander’s little AstroMech droid, Teeseven. Given that the Alliance was only a few months old, and that it was essentially a “motley” collection of defectors from the Republic, the Sith Empire, Zakuul and various other factions throughout the galaxy, she found it very impressive. The people here were motivated; despite their differences, everyone wanted to take down the Eternal Throne, and incredibly, everyone seemed to trust that the ‘infamous Outlander’, this former Jedi Master, would be the one to do it.

After seeing him in action on Vandin, Vette found that she was starting to believe it, too.

As people made their way towards the exit – led by Doctor Oggurobb (how the heck could any Hutt possibly move that fast?) – the Commander looked over at her.

“Oh, Vette. Do you have a minute?”

Vette blinked, surprised that the Commander – Corellan, he’d asked to be called while in private – would call on her. She nodded over to him in acknowledgement, feeling a brief upswell of anxiety as she waited for the others to clear out. She knew perfectly well that the feeling was a legacy of having been enslaved twice in her life but knowing that didn’t ease her nerves.

Which was funny. The Commander was entirely different than anyone else she’d worked with. He was barely older than she was, but she looked up to him. Honestly, Corellan Halcyon was one of the nicest people she’d ever met. He never got angry or even raised his voice with anyone and whatever frustration he experienced only seemed to manifest as steely resolve. She’d have thought – having watched Kael in action years ago – that all this would have made for a weak leader.

It didn’t. If anything, it just made people not want to disappoint him.

So for a moment, Vette felt nervous that she’d somehow disappointed him.

Weird that I thought he’d be like Quinn. she mused to herself. The stick-up-his-ass Imperial officer had been the most repressed man Vette had ever met. More than once, she’d speculated aloud that Quinn could have made a good Jedi had he been a Force-sensitive born in the Republic. This had proven an excellent way to antagonize him, which, of course, only encouraged Vette.

Good times.

As the room emptied save for herself, Corellan and Teeseven, Vette made her way over to him, clutching her datapads. He’d been standing at the middle of the table during the meeting while Lana Beniko and Theron Shan sat at his right, with Teeseven at his left. Come to think of it, he was the only person in the room who’d remained standing during the entire meeting. His place at the table didn’t even have a chair.

Weird.

“Uhm. Is there a problem with the communiques, Commander?”

Corellan, who had been looking down at his own datapad, turned towards her.

“Hmm? Oh, no. Not at all, Vette. You’ve been doing excellent work.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “I’m glad you chose to stay with us.”

Vette exhaled in relief, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.

“Great. Great. Thanks. So… uhm. You wanted to talk?”

“Right. Its rather awkward.” Corellan turned to look down at Teeseven. “Tee, can you load that message from yesterday?”

Teeseven beeped his approval, apparently requiring no more clarification than that. A second later, the Commander’s data pad chimed. He pressed a button.

“So I received this direct message in error. It’s probably related to the new directory security system Theron just setup. But it was apparently intended for you.”

He handed the pad over to Vette who looked down at the text.

From: Avus Dayne

Subject: My blue flower

Vette,

You don’t know me, but I’m a pilot with the Alliance fleet. I noticed you the second you stepped on Odessen, and I've been watching you from afar ever since.

Sorry, that's creepy, isn't it?

Anyway, I wrote a poem:

‘My flower of blue,

I pine for you.

Your laugh is so cute,

And your head tentacle things are also cute.’

It needs work. But the point is, I think you're pretty and I was wondering if you want to get a drink together.

If you don't, tell me and I'll leave you alone forever.

Avus (that's my name)

“Uhm. Wow.” Vette felt her cheeks turn faintly purple with a blush.

She was embarrassed. Part of her wondered if she should be offended. It was just a little creepy, sending someone a message – much less a poem! – out of the blue like that. Then again, Vette had met more than her share of real creeps over the course of her life. She didn’t get that sort of vibe from this letter.

The Commander waited a beat before continuing.

“Now this is none of my business, you understand.” Corellan added, his voice amicable. “I’m only talking to you now because the message was addressed to you, so I felt you deserved to see it.” He paused. “He did send me a follow-up message, that I’m willing to share with you, but only if you’re interested.” Corellan glanced down at the pad. “Just click the ‘Next Message’ button.”

Vette pursed her lips for a second, chewing that over, then overcome by curiosity she finally tapped the pad.

From: Avus Dayne

Subject: DO NOT READ PREVIOUS MESSAGE

My sincerest apologies, Commander. That message was not intended for you. Please delete it without opening.

But if you did read it... Do you think I have a shot?

Vette chuckled at the words, taken with the awkwardness of this guy. The messages were ridiculous, but at the same time, they were so earnest, too.

“Huh.” She finally said.

Corellan regarded her for another second, giving her a moment to think about things before pressing on.

“Like I said, its none of my business. I was just passing these on to you. I haven’t responded to him. Nor do I plan to do so unless you ask me to.”

“Uhm. Well. Thank you.” she exhaled, relieved that this situation hadn’t become more complicated.

Vette was feeling disconcerted by the whole thing. Until a few years ago, Vette hadn’t been used to people expressing an ‘interest’ in her. She’d spent most of her life in the shadow of more conventionally attractive women like Tivva, Risha and Taunt. All three had been sisters and like-sisters to Vette, but she’d always envied their confidence and their looks, and the attention they’d drawn. Then later there was Jaesa – never a friend, but another young woman who’d made her feel insecure. Vette had had a crush on Kael; she could admit that to herself now. But she’d eventually stifled it. He’d been nice to her, or at least nicer to her than most of her employers over the years, but she had no illusion about who he was what he could do. He had not been a nice guy. Jaesa was welcome to him, for all the good it had done either of them in the end. That had been years ago, though, and most of the people she and Gault had dealt with since then weren’t the type she wanted to be involved with. Not in that way.

Still, she had felt more comfortable about life in general in the weeks since she’d joined the Alliance…

She looked back down at the datapad.

“So. Uhm. What do you think?” she asked aloud.

“I’m sorry, what do I think regarding what?” Corellan raised an eyebrow.

Vette nibbled her lower lip. She’d never imagined having a conversation like this with a Jedi. Or ex-Jedi, even.

“I mean, do you think I should meet him? For a drink, or whatever?”

The Commander blinked.

“Well. I was a Jedi, Vette.” He explained himself. “Even if I’ve left that life behind, I’m probably one of the least qualified people to ask about things like that.” He looked down wistfully. “With the exception of my association with one rather philandering field medic, I have little experience with… uhm, courtship.” Corellan stammered a bit near the end, as if he had been trying to find the words, awkwardly.

It was funny to think of the Commander, who she’d personally seen storm through legions of Sky Troopers, as awkward about anything. He normally exuded confidence and poised.

“Yeah.” Vette swallowed. “Me neither, actually.”

Vette winced. That was way too personal a thing to say. She and the Commander hardly knew each other.

“But uhm. What are your… impressions of him, I guess?”

“Well.” Corellan took the datapad again and clicking back to the original message and considering. “I must say he sounds sincere to me. And he seemed a reputable individual from his personnel file, for whatever that’s worth. There was nothing to suggest he would do anything unpleasant to someone he was working with.”

Vette started to nod in appreciation, then stopped herself, noting what he’d said.

“You, uhm, read his file?”

“I did.”

“Because his message went to you and not me?”

“No, not at all. I look over everyone’s file.”

Vette blinked. The Alliance was still small compared to the other galactic powers, but all told, they still had hundreds of members by now, with more signing up every day.

“Everyone’s? I mean, that must take you forever.”

Corellan frowned a bit, gathering his thoughts.

“Well, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I haven’t been able to meet everyone in person, yet. We send so many of our people out on missions at any given point and there just isn’t enough time. But learning their face and their name, that at least is a start. For me, anyway. So every evening when I head back to my quarters, I have Teeseven load up some personnel files.” He smiled affectionately, patting the chassis of the AstroMech droid’s top. “It takes some time but it’s worth it and it makes for good bedtime reading.”

His expression had softened, his light blue eyes dwelling on a less complicated time.

“The idea that there are people working for me, even fighting for me, who I don’t even know is… well that’s a new one for me. It’s one more thing I’ll have to get used to, I suppose.”

Vette found herself charmed by this sentiment, though it also concerned her just a bit. In her experience, people in positions of power rarely did things like personally checking on every who worked for them. If he was losing sleep over minutiae, that could be bad for everyone.

For the moment, she kept on track.

“And you remembered Avus, just from skimming his file?”

He shrugged, indifferently.

“Actually, I don’t forget anything.”

Vette’s eyes widened.

“That’s a neat trick.” She whistled. “Is that from being a Jedi?” she hadn’t recalled Jaesa ever demonstrating instant recall like that.

“Thank you. And no. Its just something I’ve always been able to do.” Corellan shrugged again.

“Well, I wish I could do that.” Realization came to Vette, as she attempted to digest all of this. She eyed the Commander worriedly.

“So… you’ve probably read my file, too.”

“Well, yes.” He’d obviously picked up on her concern but seemed non-plussed about it, not comprehending the bantha in the room Vette had been hinting at.

“Uhm.” She paused but couldn’t leave it alone. “You must know I used to work for Kael.”

Corellan nodded with understanding, his face growing somber.

“I do.”

She looked up and regarded him.

“You still trust me with… your communications? And the field work, and everything?”

Corellan Halcyon’s face finally relaxed. This seemed familiar ground for him.

“You’ve given me no reason to think I shouldn’t. And the quality of your work speaks for itself. We couldn’t have raided the Gilded Star without you.” He spoke confidently, then gave her a reassuring look. “Vette, what happened between myself and Kael was never personal for me. Yes, he did things I considered monstrous, but so did nearly every other Sith Lord I’ve fought. He had his reasons for fighting Revan after Vitiate rejected him. When we finally fought on Yavin, I felt his rage and the pain behind it. And I exploited those weaknesses to beat him.”

He sighed in regret.

“I truly regret that I couldn’t find another way. But there were countless lives on the line and I still had to deal with Revan. And the Emperor. So it went the way that it did.”

Corellan’s light blue eyes re-focused on Vette.

“For what its worth, I’m sorry. I know you weren’t working for him at the time, but that had to have been difficult when you heard what happened.”

Vette looked down at the table. Those were old wounds. She didn’t want to get into all that right now.

“Someday I’ll tell you about my time with Kael and his crew.” She swallowed. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t hold any of that against you.”

It was Corellan’s turn to nod in relief.

“I appreciate that.”

Vette awkwardly looked down at the datapad again.

“I think… I’ll send him a message. Just to see how it goes.”

The Commander smiled slightly.

“Sounds good.” Then he paused, an idea popping up in his mind. “Oh, but if you do wind up telling him you’re not interested and then he bothers you again, then absolutely come to me. I’ll take care of it if there’s a problem.”

Vette found herself grinning at the offer.

“I wouldn’t think you had much experience in scaring off creeps.” She mused.

A small grin formed across Corellan’s lips.

“I don’t, really. But as it so happens, my personnel resources director is a Sith Lord.” He offered, his eyes sparkling a bit. “She’s very… persuasive when it comes to conflict resolution.”

Vette laughed at that, breaking up what had become a heavy mood. Lana Beniko was the model of professionalism, but she was scary.

“Okay. Well… thanks for talking to me about this. And for being okay about everything.”

“Not at all. Thank you for being here.” His chrono pinged. “Ah. I have to go meet with Hylo to discuss the logistical situation.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Vette smiled. “I should get back to the war room.”

“Sounds good. I’ll talk to Theron about the bugs in the directory system.”

With that, they parted company.

Vette smiled to herself as she left the conference chamber. She’d meet with this ‘Avus’ guy. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it wouldn’t. But Vette felt that she’d be okay either way.

It was a good feeling.

Author’s Notes: The mis-sent letter has always been one of my favorite moments in KOTFE.

For the record, in this continuity, Vette does meet with Avus for a drink. He’s nice enough, but she decides he’s not for her. He’s okay with that. They remain friends to this day.

Corellan rarely sits down, except for the pilot seat of his ship. The reason for this will come up some day.

I’ve made references to Corellan’s eidetic memory in the past, but it rarely comes up so directly in a story.

I do kind of ship Vette with someone in this continuity. But that comes much later in my story.

I don’t know how Avus didn’t know that they are called “lekkus”.

Kael was not a nice Sith Warrior. More on him another time. @swtor-writers-guild , @swtorshipping

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #secret messages #swtor fanfic #tales from the eternal alliance #oc: corellan halcyon #vette #vette swtor #avus dayne #the halcyon legacy

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traumatized-motherfuckers · 4 years

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CPTSD and Core Beliefs (Your lens, built on traumatic fuckery)

Alright, so you know I have this Patreon thing that I try to make worth your while in return for your economical help. One of the benefits is the good ole’ monthly ask me anything. And I love it. Because the questions are great. And they push me to dig into topics that I was procrastinating. This month’s AMA is a particularly good one! A question that needs to be addressed, anyways. So it’s perfect. Let’s aim for two birds with one stone.

Our good friend Cassie - you know her by now - asks, how do you identify core beliefs and start to change them? Which is a very simple and very complicated question.

So, to take a step backwards, what she talkin’ bout?

Well, one of the internal issues that complex trauma sufferers have to rectify is their belief system. Between our core beliefs and our inner critic, we have a lot going on in between our ears to keep us downtrodden and destitute.

We’re talking about what I call Fucked Up Core Beliefs here… which are your trauma-born core beliefs. Again, called FUCBs because when you discover them, you’ll likely whisper to yourself, “wow, that’s actually really fucked up.” These sentiments are like the lenses that you surgically stitched onto your face several decades ago in response to your upbringing, as your little mammal brain tried to understand its place in the global hierarchy and how to be chill about it.

The framework you built from your early development and beyond, that all information still filters through today - both on the way in and on the way out of your head. The words that stream through your brain consciously or subconsciously to shape the ways you appraise… everything. Yourself, your life, your past, your future, other people, and everything that happens in between.

So, essentially, talking about the ways you interpret your existence and the collected pool of knowledge from where you make decisions, and therefore the ways you act. If this is starting to sound like a big deal - it is!

But it don’t come with a big flashing sign. The Challenge

These beliefs are challenging to figure out because:

One, they were adapted early on in your life in an effort to understand the circumstances around you or directly downloaded from the sentiments expressed in your environment. When you were first establishing your perspective of the universe and trying to figure out how to navigate it based on the clues presented.

Plus, the harder part is… because of the early adoption, you’ve already accepted the idea for so long that it doesn’t even seem like a “belief” to you - you’re not choosing it and it’s probably not apparent to you - it’s just the secret narrative running in your head that corrupts all later data. Not cognitive thoughts that you’re directing on purpose. You probably don’t have recollections of the time before you believed such and such to question what you believe - these ideas are solidified in your head with as much certainty as the alphabet.

So, you might believe you’re a worthless piece of shit as a function of the neglect and abuse you experienced, a way to explain the mistreatment to yourself from a young age… OR you might believe you’re a worthless piece of shit because mom, dad, sister, and society directly told you so. But either way, many years down the line, it’s difficult to pinpoint either of these originating factors as memories fade or to even question the validity of the thought… or to even notice the thought.

Two, if your family of origin was always repeating the same sort of thoughts and you later associate with people who make you comfortable to be around (i.e. probably have some similar views of the world), you have nothing to compare your beliefs to.

Your environment teaches you what’s normal. There’s no reference for what is and isn’t healthy, fair, or functional if everyone is drinking the same kool aid. And, unfortunately, in traumatic environments, folks seem to congregate around the fucked up beliefs to protect them with a mutual unspoken agreement. Accept the accepted narrative of the group or be outcast. The same story is replayed on repeat from all ends of your social circle, so why would you even begin to think there’s another way to look at things?

So, if mom, dad, cousin, uncle, grandma, neighbor, peer, teacher, and media are all telling you the same reality exists, how would you ever even begin to have the wherewithal to think otherwise? The thought probably never crosses your mind. The sky is blue, grass is green, and the world is a miserable place where everyone is trying to take advantage of you.

Three, again, I cannot over-express how insidious, subtle, and generalized these things can be. Fucked up core beliefs affect how you see and process everything. Again, like lenses or an instagram filter permanently applied to your corneas. So, there’s not necessarily one life-effect linked to one-FUCB for easy detection or one event that will cause a clear-as-day defined belief to come shooting to the top of the pile. More like, you very slowly realize you have an unhealthy view or twenty about yourself and the world that have sorrrrrtof impacted every single area of your life now that you spend years considering it.

Thinking you’re a worthless piece of shit, for instance, has led to you taking low-level jobs with chaotic schedules, living with an abusive partner, and settling for living in the same environment with the same behavioral patterns that you’ve known your entire life. It’s also allowed you to give up exercise, eating right, staying sober, and trying to make any life-improvements. Why bother spit polishing shit? And here you are, wondering why you feel awful about yourself and don’t enjoy anything you’ve created in your life.

But. It’s not that simple to sort out, or else we would have done it already. You probably haven’t ever purposely considered how commonly this impression is operating below the surface of your actions. Realizing that the belief “I’m a worthless piece of shit who deserves nothing” and trying to change it would be like pulling out the wrong Janga block - everything it has been supporting suddenly comes tumbling down and you’re left with a real fucking mess to rebuild from the bottom up. And, to top it all off, no one ever even taught you how to create a sturdier structure in the first place.

Fourthly, from some of my own learnings, I’ve come to the conclusion that the core belief, itself, doesn’t even have to present itself at any point to be making a difference in your life. They are so deeply ingrained in my brain that my thought center just naturally uses them as a jumping off point, without even directly touching on the words that might ping my brain as unusual. Just like we can subtly detect risks in our environment that set off our warning bells without ever creating a conscious thought to go with the arousal, I feel like I can apply a core belief to my world without ever noticing the accompanying stream of consciousness.

Sometimes I feel like fucked up core beliefs have become so accepted over time that they’re feelings more than cognitions. As if they’ve become so reflexive through repetition that you have muscle memory - an intuitive response that bypasses your logical brain recognition threshold and jumpstarts shittily-related thoughts… and those will actually register on your thinking scale. But at that point, you accept the novel-feeling thought and never note that it was actually spawned by a very old recording.

Which is to say, you might have to work on identifying your fucked up core feelings before you can get to the thought deeply buried underneath. Taking a meta break from the episode to tell you, I’ve never thought about that so thoroughly before. But Fucked Up Core Feelings definitely sounds like a solid description of my world. I guess we also have FUCFs to go with our FUCBs from now on. Anyways.

With all of this in mind, I’m sure you can start to see why these fucked up core beliefs are a big problem. Hell, if you’ve listened to this podcast for more than a few episodes, you’ve definitely heard that I’m still challenged by my own. Like, when I say that I’m freaking out because no one should listen to me and I feel like an imposter - I believe that I’m not good enough to share information with people. That I’m too flawed to even express myself. This is a problem for, say, podcasting. Or, living. And I have to fight it all the time.

Long story short.

Your core beliefs are sneaky, they can be comprehensive, and they are hardwired into your brain as your default system for analyzing everything on the planet. Again, kind of like looking for goggles strapped to your face, but in reality you had lasik surgery about 30 years ago.

So, if you aren’t constantly on the lookout for core beliefs and actively working against your pre-programmed ways of assessing yourself and the world around you… they will get out of control, cause a fair amount of avoidance and defeat, and set you back several steps in your mental health management… plus, potentially your entire life, if you make any big decisions out of this unhealthy mindset. Which you will, because that’s how the brain works. I’m almost certain that you have some experience with this already.

If you ever think things like: The world is a dangerous placePeople are cruelI’m not good enough I’m not smart enoughI’m not enoughI’m brokenOther people don’t like meThere’s something wrong with my personalityI’m not allowed to… (live like others, have nice things, be happy)I’m not one of those people who… (has money, has good luck, gets what they want)Shit is just harder for meNothing ever works outLife is always hardI can’t.

Then you’ve had some fucked up core beliefs floating around in your head.

These are some super broad ones for the sake of demonstration, so don’t disregard highly specific beliefs that might relate to your particular circumstances or upbringing.

If you haven’t ever noticed yourself thinking these big shitty picture things… check again in all your deepest nooks and crannies. I think a lot of us TMFRs operate from some version of the narratives above - plus, much worse. Like I keep saying, these beliefs might not be in your conscious thoughts, so much as they’re directing the show from behind the curtain.

How do we pull it back? Discover the beliefs ........

Keep reading or listen up at t-mfrs.com

https://www.t-mfrs.com/podcast/episode/532f2b1c/core-beliefs

#cptsd #complex ptsd #complex trauma #complextraumarecovery #healingcomplextrauma #complextrauma #complexptsd #cptsd problems #cpstd #just cptsd things #actually CPTSD #cptsdsurvivor

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sage-nebula · 3 years

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Game Review — New Pokémon Snap

In 1999, a photography game centered on the world of Pokémon was released. Ever since then, I have hungered for a sequel. And now, 22 years later, my wish was finally granted.

Overall Score: 9/10

While I am still puzzled that they didn’t create and release this game for either 3DS or Wii U, since both had built-in cameras, overall I couldn’t be happier with this and I definitely feel that it was worth the 22-year-long wait. Head under the cut (and onto my blog) for more detailed thoughts on what has honestly been an excellent game.

The Pros:

Everything is GORGEOUS. The environments, the pokémon, literally everything. Even setting aside the glowing effects of the Illumina phenomenon (particularly at night when it really stands out), everything about this game is visually stunning. The colors are bright, but not blinding, and you can see that everything was crafted with care. There aren’t any areas that feel unfinished or unpolished. It is beautiful to look at, which is rather important when you’re making a photography-based game.

Each area changes as you increase your research level, so that even though you will have some run-throughs of the courses that are the same as you experienced before, you’ll also find new paths and see different pokémon as you go through the courses more and more times as well. For instance, when you first play through the Florio Nature Park, the Bidoof are in the process of building their dam. But later, their dam is completed. And this is just one example of how things change; believe me, there are lots of changes as time passes and you go through the courses again and again, making them feel far less repetitive than they did in the original game. (Not to bash the original game, which was on the N64 and thus had a lot less space to hold data, of course. I’m just saying.)

The pokémon behaviors are also so great. You have the Bidoof building their dam, for example, but you also have Alolan Raichu surfing the sand dunes, or Espurr levitating rocks for the fun of it, or Pikipek bringing fruits back to nests on Toucannon’s orders. On less happy notes you also have things like a group of Mareanie chasing down a Corsola, but I mean, it’s a well-established fact that Mareanie eat Corsola, so that’s just nature. The point is that this isn’t a game where the pokémon are just standing around waiting to have their pictures taken. The pokémon feel alive and it’s clear that so much thought went into their behaviors to make it feel as if life is teeming around you as you go through the courses, because it is! It’s excellent.

Although this is a sequel game (and it makes it clear that it’s a sequel game, which I’ll talk about more in a second), it’s also incredibly accessible to those who have never played the original. Even if you never heard of the original before, you can jump right into this one with mostly new characters and a brand new story. And I think that’s great, considering the original game came out 22 years ago and is probably somewhat hard to find now, especially if you don’t have a system with access to a Virtual Console to play it on. (Which wouldn’t be a problem if we had the Virtual Console on the Switch, Nintendo, but that’s a separate discussion.)

That said, it is a sequel game and all of the nods and references to the original game are things that I love. I mean, first off, Todd Snap is back and he had a major glow-up. But even setting that aside, it’s mentioned how the NEO-ONE was based on the old vehicle that Todd used (the ZERO-ONE), how Todd used to take photos for a different professor (Professor Oak), the final Illumina Pokémon’s level is a huge callback to the Mew level in the original Snap, et cetera. Although this game was called New Pokémon Snap likely so that people wouldn’t think they had to play the first game first, it’s pretty clearly Pokémon Snap 2 and I love that.

Along with the courses themselves changing as you progress through the game, there are also day and night versions of almost every course so you get something different on them even before making more progress. Additionally, each course has multiple different routes that you can take if you find them / want to, and Elsewhere Forest in particular has zones that change depending on the season, which offers even more variety and things to discover. Again, it doesn’t feel boring to keep going through the courses because there’s always something new to find.

Everything is streamlined and plays excellently. The menus are cleaned, I haven’t noticed any lag in gameplay no matter how much is going on on-screen . . . everything is smooth, clean, and fresh, and again, adds to how much of a joy to look at this game is, on top of making it a joy to play as well.

The online features are implemented really well. I absolutely love that you can post photos to share with people around the world, but also that the feature isn’t obtrusive and in your face, so if you want to ignore it, you can. But the process itself is seamless, and the fact that you can add filters and stickers to make memes out of the photos is hilarious and a well thought-out feature, particularly since this is the age of social media, so having a Pokéstagram just makes sense.

I enjoy that there are little missions that you can complete that are posited as being posed naturally by the other characters. You’re given clues of what to do, but often you’re not told outright, which can make some of them fun to figure out (and others the shot itself is challenging enough so you don’t need a riddle, haha). While fulfilling the requests can be a bit irritating (more on that in a bit) I like that there’s additional material to do in addition to the main story that unfolds as you go through and gives you plenty of stuff to do even after you’ve completed the main story.

The characters are all pretty great. There’s one character I don’t enjoy very much, but otherwise the characters are good and add charm to the story.

These characters still don’t know anything about photography (the rule of thirds is so basic and no one here knows it), at least they’re not as obvious about it as Professor Oak was, always scolding me for not getting pokémon in the center of the frame. So toning down the obnoxiousness on that was nice, I will give them that.

The environments are so varied and so cool. Like sure, you have your basic jungle, your basic grasslands, your basic volcano . . . but also your underwater, your magic forest, your ancient technicolor ruins. And I mean, I don’t even want to diss the other areas because the volcano area was incredibly vivid, the snowy mountain was beautiful, and so on. Again, I don’t want to gush too much about how beautiful this game is, but it is and the wide variety of places to take pictures makes it all the more incredible.

As I mentioned in the missions bullet, there is plenty of content to do even after the main story is completed, which is a definite plus. Filling your Photodex aside, there are also Course Scores that are enabled once you complete the main story and an additional time of day for an already unlocked area that is unlocked as well. This means that even after you clear the game, you can still have fun trying to get different shots and discovering new things, which is always a bonus in my book.

Motion controls are included, but they are entirely optional. So if you want to undock your Switch (or if you are playing with a Switch Lite) and you want to move your Switch around like an actual camera, you can! But if you have any physical limitations that would make doing that hard for you (or if you just don’t feel like it), you don’t have to and the motion controls are actually turned off by default. I haven’t used them myself because I’m not a fan of motion controls so I can’t tell you how good they are, but I can say it’s a plus that the motion controls are 100% optional, rather than forcibly included like they have been in other Nintendo games.

The Neutrals:

All of the different tools you get are basically the same as the original game, with a few slight (and sometimes silly) changes. For instance, they’re now calling apples “flufffruit” because “fluffruit are actually a lot softer and don’t hurt the pokémon” even though . . . they’re very obviously apples. Like very obviously apples. I get that they don’t want to encourage throwing apples at animals for the sake of picture taking / they don’t want to make a kid feel bad if they accidentally (“accidentally”) knock a pokémon in the head with one, but . . . come on. They’re apples. They’ve also decided to take away the Pokéflute and make it a random music player instead, and Illumina Orbs replaced Pester Balls for both story reasons and for the same reason why we can’t call apples apples anymore. Honestly, all of this is fine, just something to mention, though I will say it took way too damn long to unlock the turbo feature, damn. Pokémon are fast, guys! Give me my turbo sooner!!

Sometimes the “tips” that Professor Mirror gives during the photo evaluations . . . don’t actually fit the situation at all. Like I can’t tell you the number of times he’s told me about getting the whole pokémon in the frame when the pokémon is in the frame, or like “throw a fluffruit to get the pokémon to look right at you!” even though the pokémon is staring into the camera like they’re on The Office. It’s not a huge deal but it makes me think that Professor Mirror might need his vision prescription updated.

I understand that this is also the age of the smartphone, but I do find it disappointing that we’re essentially given a smartphone camera (or at most a point-and-shoot) versus the SLR camera that Todd very obviously had in the original Snap (and even has here). Granted, we didn’t have to adjust for aperture or shutter speed in the original game and I wouldn’t want to do that here either, but it’s about the aesthetic and the fact that having professional nature photographers have actually good cameras is more fitting than handing them a smartphone and saying, “have fun!” Again, I get why it’s a smartphone now, but it still is a little disappointing, even if not an actual detraction from the game.

It is confusing that we have wild Alolan form pokémon when this is not Alola, especially since they didn’t make it equal by adding in Galar form pokémon too. (And on that note, there seems to be a lack of Galar pokémon at that.) I think it would have been cool if they’d designed some Lental form pokémon for this game specifically, although I get that this isn’t a game developed by Game Freak so I understand why that wasn’t done. All the same though, the presence of Alolan form pokémon when this isn’t Alola was still a bit weird.

It’s rather easy to breeze through the main story if you don’t want to take your time revisiting areas to get better pictures / boost the research level. While the main story is longer than the original game / there are more areas than the original game, it’s still pretty short. Ordinarily this would be a con, but since there are so many things to do even after you beat the main story, I’m putting it in the neutrals section instead.

The Cons:

While the missions are fun, it is frustrating that you have to do them again if you capture a photo of the mission before the mission is formally handed to you. This is especially true if it was a hard to get shot that’s difficult to replicate. I understand they want to put challenge in the game, but it’s a bit frustrating you can’t point to your photodex and have the mission be cleared if you’ve already done it. You also can’t get the pokémon doing the requested thing in a different part of the course (or a different version of the same course, or even just a different course altogether if a pokémon appears in multiple areas), which is fine, except that you can only turn in one photo per pokémon. This can make it particularly frustrating when you technically get a photo of what was asked for (e.g. Wingull doing a loop-de-loop) but it’s not the specific Wingull you were supposed to take a picture of, so it doesn’t count.

I have noticed a few bugs or typos here or there. Like one time the text box said “Rita” even when it was clearly Mirror talking, and there have been other times when the game is like “you can’t submit photos if the pokémon is not in the Illumina State” even though Wishwashi was GLOWING BRIGHT PINK because I had just thrown an Illumina Orb at it. Little things like that are things I think could have been better smoothed out in QA, but ultimately aren’t too much to deal with and don’t happen very often.

The alternate paths are a bit too finicky sometimes. Like I managed to get on the swamp path once and haven’t been able to manage it since. I was on research level 3 in Elsewhere Forest for a good long while before Espeon decided to show up, which blocked me off the second exit and guaranteed winter route, too. Again, I love that there are secrets in this game, but I tried to replicate getting into the swamp area twenty times in a row after I had just done it with no success, so it can be a bit frustrating at times.

There isn’t really a true conclusion to the main story. I won’t give spoilers, but essentially the story revolves around uncovering the secrets of a myth that happened in the Lental region thousands of years ago. You get close . . . but the story ends before you get any real answers. You’re just left to speculate. In a way this makes sense, since it’s not like you’re time traveling, you’re just taking pictures. But it is still a little annoying for anyone who is interested in things like the lore of the Pokéworld and who might like actual answers to the questions set up (such as myself).

Anyway, overall, this game is amazing whether or not you played the original, and I highly recommend it to everyone who likes Pokémon even a little. Here’s hoping we don’t have to wait another 22 years for the next one. (But if we do, it will probably be worth the wait.)

#pokemon #pokemon snap #new pokemon snap #2021 game reviews #i am still playing it but since I finished the main story I figured I should go ahead and post the review

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 3 years

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The Goonies: Genre and Themes

As with every film, The Goonies is a hodgepodge of elements borrowed from different genres: a series of intertwined different sets of expectations that the audience is to expect payoff on.

Usually, a movie gains an audience by appealing to fans of its genre, or genres, since, as I mentioned, most films contain more than one. Typically, by appealing to these fans with a combination of appropriate star power, the name of a good director, and a use of genre brings in an audience, who is familiar with these elements, knows what to expect, and wants to see more of it. Genre is best used as a series of audience expectations that a filmmaker has to fulfill, rather than a series of tropes that have to be checked off in interesting ways to make a good action film, or western, or horror.

The reason for this is simple: one, if you want an audience, don’t confuse them, don’t bore them, and don’t disappoint them, and that means meeting their expectations, or subtly adjusting them along the way.

So…what were the expectations for The Goonies?

At first, it might seem easiest to say that it’s an adventure film.

Which, it is.

The story for The Goonies follows a group of kids avoiding dangerous criminals while searching for buried treasure, encountering booby traps, raging waterfalls, and skeletons galore. It very much strikes in atmosphere and surroundings an Indiana Jones-style feeling of adventure, bringing to mind the opening of Raiders of the Lost Ark. However, while the Indiana Jones films, while possessing a slight comedic slant in several scenes, including action ones, the stakes in those films are typically much higher than the Goondocks, and as a result, it overall takes itself more seriously.

The Goonies is not a film spent with the audience at the edge of their seat, biting their nails in terror that one of the kids is going to be killed, or even seriously hurt. At no point does the audience believe that Chunk’s hand is actually going to be subjected to the blender, nor do they think that Data’s fall will kill him, or that the floor collapsing from under Mouth is going to lead to his untimely, unceremonious demise. The stakes are there, certainly, and the characters clearly believe they are in danger (rightfully), but the audience never has a heart-in-throat moment of: this is it for them.

Which is odd, because our villains are armed with guns, and the floor does collapse, and our heroes are in danger. They believe it, to the point where Brand pulls Mikey out of the cave, away from the loot, because their lives are more important than the treasure. The group bursts into hysterics when they think Data has fallen to his death, and Brand and Mouth don’t exactly handle seeing a skeleton, a reminder of their own mortality, trapped under one of One-Eyed Willy’s booby traps. Characters are held at gunpoint, swordpoint, are pushed off of planks, and are nearly crushed by falling rocks, and while, for the sake of the story, they are terrified for their own lives, the audience never really feels the danger.

We feel the danger for their sakes, certainly, but in the end, the audience is actually more concerned with whether or not Mikey and Co. are going to get the treasure to save the Goondocks than whether or not they’ll survive, because we know that already. We know, based on the tone and style of the film, that they have to make it, and be alright in the end. The stakes of the goal are high to the characters and the audience: the money for the Goondocks, but the stakes for the story aren’t quite as severe, seemingly.

Part of that is due to, like I said, the tone, which I’ll get to in a minute. But the other portion to assisting the audience’s suspension of disbelief has to do with the themes of the film.

See, themes aren’t only for in-depth films that contemplate the meaning of life. Themes are present in every film we watch, whether it’s a theme of anti-authoritarianism (Escape from New York, They Live), success through perseverance (Rocky), or as simple as love (Casablanca) or good vs. evil (Star Wars). Even if it’s not intentional, every movie carries with it the inherited worldview of its creators and what matters to them, especially as it concerns this particular story. The same is true for The Goonies.

At the center of The Goonies is, of course, a basic struggle of good vs. evil, albeit in far less ‘epic’ terms: a group of kids trying to save their homes versus murderous criminals, and worse, businessmen trying to uproot their homes and separate them, leading to the real major theme of the movie: friendship.

The Goonies don’t want to leave Astoria because they’re so terribly fond of their own driveways. It’s because they’re fond of each other. As much as they squabble and tease each other and argue, they are friends, and they don’t want to be separated. In fact, their friendship and love for their home is so strong that, even when their lives are endangered, they stick together, even where there are opportunities to turn back.

But as important as the friendship between the Goonies is, it’s not the only friendship in the film that’s key to the story.

Chunk’s bonding with Sloth not only saves their lives, but also provides a happy ending for Sloth, too. By the end of the film, Sloth is practically a Goonie himself, and the rest of the group embraces him without a second thought. The group functions almost like a large family: they don’t always get along, (in fact, they often don’t) but in the end, what matters is that they care about each other, enough to face some pretty intense stuff.

Which is another good point.

While friendship and good vs. evil factor easily into a good adventure movie, what’s interesting to note is that while Indiana Jones or any other average adventure hero has to go with it: tons of courage, and usually some competency to go along. The Goonies unfortunately only have the former, which makes sense. The average age of the lot of them is thirteen.

Bravery isn’t exactly uncommon to see in adventure films: nobody wants to watch a cowardly hero in a straight adventure film. But for the average hero, they have skills that help along the way, strength, speed, wits, intelligence, a specialized set of abilities. The Goonies, on the other hand?

They’re kids. The oldest among them are still high-schoolers. Their skills are limited: Data’s inventions, Mikey’s leadership and optimism, Mouth’s ability to translate Spanish, and Chunk’s timing all come in handy throughout the film, but it never changes the fact that they’re kids against three adults who won’t think twice about killing children. This changes their ‘courage’ somewhat into either some insane levels of idealism, or determination at the cost (sometimes) of common sense. Mikey has to be convinced to escape from the collapsing cave instead of going back to get the treasure.

So what does that tell us?

It tells us that their goal means something to them, that they care immensely about it, and that it’s worth the danger. Are they scared? Of course. But in that friendship, in that goal to defeat the evil of the Fratellis and the rich families about to bulldoze their houses, they find the courage to keep moving, to reach that goal.

In the end, the Goonies never beat the Fratellis. They get away, sure, but it’s Sloth and the police who have far more to do with the actual ‘defeat of’ the main villains of the film. After the Goonies escape, the prize of the movie seems to be their lives, with the Fratellis being left behind with the treasure. You could argue this means that the Goonies aren’t very brave, seeing as they never had a final ‘battle’, or climax with the Fratellis, but it’s important to remember that the Fratellis aren’t really the antagonist of the Goonies. They’re antagonists, for sure, but they aren’t the person who is causing the problem in the first place, kicking off the adventure. That would be Mr. Perkins, the guy trying to get them out of the Goondocks. As a result, while the Fratellis are apprehended by third-party law enforcement, the Goonies get to ‘defeat’ Mr. Perkins themselves, by having enough money to save their homes.

Is it ‘final battle’ level of epic climax? No. But again, they’re thirteen years old, and with that in mind, then staying one step ahead of hardened criminals, escaping, and saving their home anyway (all against adults more competent and powerful than they are) is plenty brave enough for me.

Both villains in this story have one thing in common: Greed. Greed has always been a pretty common theme in stories, and that extends to moviemaking too: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Wall Street, and Citizen Kane are films held in high regard that revolve around greed, and what it does to people. Other films like It’s a Wonderful Life take an even firmer, more obvious stance, pitting its protagonist against a cruel, greedy antagonist with no redeeming qualities. In short, we as audience members have a pretty good idea of what greediness looks like, and we know that we don’t like it. The Fratellis and Mr. Perkins are entirely motivated by money: Mr. Perkins can only think of the benefits to himself for tearing down the Goondocks, whereas the Fratellis, counterfeiters and thieves, are simply after the treasure for their own personal gain.

Now, of course, the Goonies are after it too, but you’ll notice something very important here.

Sure, the Goonies want the treasure. That’s the whole point. But the thing that prevents this from being an act of greed is obvious: ‘intent’. Mikey’s protests about wanting to go back and get the loot is not because Mikey was struck by sudden gold-fever or Dragon Sickness, it’s because he wants, more than anything, to save their home. It’s what they all want, in fact. They’re doing this for a good cause: for each other, not just themselves, to meet a need. None of the kids ever mention getting rich from this. They all have the same goal, and there are never any of the typical fights about how the treasure gets split, or what they’ll do with their share.

These themes all overlap very neatly into the film itself, though it seems a little odd to cut them up and lay them out like this, but there is one thing that ties it all together, albeit, probably without meaning to. I’ve mentioned the ages of the kids a few times: ranging from about thirteen to around sixteen or seventeen. There have been plenty of movies about kids, for kids, and about kids for adults, but The Goonies manages to straddle a line and become a movie about kids, for everyone.

Youth is a huge part of this movie. Adults do not find treasure maps and decide to go on an adventure in order to save their homes because the insane, idealistic, wide-eyed streak has already been burned out of them by life. They already know the rules of the world, and know that that’s not how that works. As such, the fact is, there’s no ‘Goonie’ storyline if the characters aren’t children. Kids are infinitely more emotionally attached to their homes at that age, and will do anything to stay together. Kids haven’t been told yet by the world that their hopes and dreams are unrealistic. They still believe they can do great things, like save the Goondocks.

Even throughout the rest of the film, you can’t replace these characters with adults. They cry, they scream, they panic, they fight and argue with each other, and they all remain friends, unquestionably, and the adventure molds around them, allowing them to continue to be children as the story progresses. The danger is real, but it never feels too big for them, or too small for everyone else.

So, what does that mean for genre?

None of this detracts from the fact that The Goonies is very much an adventure film. Early on, the expectations are set up for the audience: the opening car chase and the discovery of the map in Mikey’s attic immediately set up the idea that there is going to be an exciting, dangerous story ahead, full of unexpected, unusual circumstances. That’s exactly what we get.

While the audience may never feel outright danger for the characters’ lives, like I said, they do worry for the Goonies’ end goal, and there is certainly plenty of excitement along the way. That is, in fact, the emotion most felt by the audience throughout the film. The movie is a roller-coaster full of superficial danger without any real stakes, and plenty of heart-in-throat moments. The trek through the tunnels, Chunk’s run-ins with the Fratellis, meeting Sloth, finding the pirate ship: are all dips and climbs throughout the amusement park ride that is The Goonies. The audience is constantly on the edge of their seat, and almost every story beat is active payoff of that adventurous expectation.

But there’s more to this movie than just the thrills.

Part of the difficulty of developing an adventure film for kids is that you either have to put children in danger, or you run the risk of feeling too safe. Kid adventure movies of the ‘80s like E.T. the Extra Terrestrial utilized an even balance, but as I mentioned, there’s no real fear for the Goonies’ lives. This is for a rather specific reason:

The Goonies went for the laughs with the thrills.

Data falling through the cave floor? Terrifying. Data falling through the cave floor and being saved by his invention while the rest of the Goonies go into hysterics? Hilarious.

The Goonies going after the treasure? Exciting.

The Goonies letting the air out of Brand’s tires so he has to steal a little kid’s bicycle to go after them? A comedy highlight.

The Goonies being cornered by the Fratellis and forced to give up the treasure? Legitimately upsetting in the moment.

Mama Fratelli forcing Mouth to spit out the gobs of gold and pearls that he’s stashed in his mouth? Genuinely funny.

The movie is constantly playing that balance. No exciting moment is without it’s humorous side. The kids are in danger, but they’re also always reacting in humorous ways, like Mikey making a half-hearted joke when Andy’s trying to play the bone organ while the floor collapses. A lot of what people remember about this movie are the laughs, with good reason: there’s a ton of them.

The Goonies has no shortage of funny moments and humorous lines, again, some of the most quoted lines of the film happen to be the ones that made people laugh. But as I’ve said before: there’s a lot more to being a comedy than just being funny.

Comedy is a very broad umbrella, one of the genres most easily mixed with others to create a blend: such as, what would seem to be a comedy-adventure story. Comedies typically rely on either absurd, exaggerated, or humorous characters, or an absurd, exaggerated, humorous plot, such as in films like Coming to America or Ghostbusters.

So, how does The Goonies fit? The plot is exaggerated, for sure, but not exactly in an inherently humorous way.

There’s a very easy way to tell exactly what genre it is, between adventure and comedy, and I’ll show you right now:

Typically, a really good way to tell a film’s genre is to take a good look at the characters, especially the main protagonist, and the story beats. These elements best illustrate exactly what kind of story you have, and in the case of The Goonies, it’s fairly easy.

Like I said, the story for The Goonies is clearly exaggerated beyond the realm of belief. Kids don’t find treasure maps in their attics that lead them to pirate ships. However, the story isn’t played as ‘funny’, nearly ever. The skeletons and booby traps are played completely straight, with very little to laugh at. Indeed, in another movie, these booby traps may have actually hurt or killed a character.

In The Goonies however, while the plotline is a very straightforward ‘kids Indiana Jones’ adventure story, the characters are considerably more…colorful.

And funny.

Mikey’s mispronunciations and his bickering brother relationship with Brand, Andy’s hysteria, Data’s plucky mildly ‘nutty professor’ vibe, Chunk’s over-the-top reaction to his misadventures, Mouth’s…mouth, and Stef’s complete and total irritation with everyone around her lead to some hilarious interactions, and some genuinely funny characters in their own right. Everyone is quirky, and not just to give them more character, it’s also to get them to be funnier. They aren’t alone in this, either.

The Fratellis, although still remaining chief antagonists, are not without their own comedic slants as well. Their own bickering amongst themselves and the over-the-top levels of abuse that get doled out equally manage to keep them intimidating for the kids, but funny for the audience, enough that there’s never a point where they reach true ‘villain’ status.

With that combination in mind, the film actually manages to hit the comedy-adventure balance pretty evenly. The situation remains threatening, but the thing that actually prevents the audience from worrying are the characters themselves and how they are portrayed: as indestructible characters in a cartoon. They’re likeable enough to keep the audience invested, but humorous enough to keep the audience from fearing for them. It’s the ideal combination, and it works, with just a dash of something more:

Heart.

The Goonies is remembered for its humor and its adventure, but it’s also remembered for its heart. Brand hugging Mikey as they briefly connect over the fear and sadness of losing their home, Mikey’s inspiring speeches, ‘Goonies Never Say Die!’, Mouth’s passionate outburst about his dream, his wish, Sloth’s friendship with Chunk, even the ending, with Brand and Mikey’s dad proudly proclaiming that there will be no signing, with the kids watching the pirate ship sail into the sunset…it fills the audience with at least a little bit of warmth.

In the end, we care about the Goonies because the movie makes us care about them. They make us like them, and so we feel for their adventures. There’s a real, legitimate sense of family throughout it, down to the aggressive fighting to the make-up hugs that follow.

The Goonies is often considered a ‘family’ movie, something that may surprise viewers after hearing some of the language used by the kids, the corpses, and the fact that the kids are in legitimate danger at times, but in a way, it’s not very surprising that this is considered a family film.

The tempering of the action with the comedy certainly helps, but the real kicker to make sure that it’s considered a ‘family’ film is its focus: family. Friendship. The people you care about. Banding together against all odds.

Yes, the plot appeals to kids, and so do the characters, for obvious reasons: the characters are kids, with child-like goals. Adults typically don’t react so strongly to learning that they have to move, at least, not to the point of going treasure-hunting to prevent it. However, while kids can grasp what the Goonies are about, adults can too.

Adults remember what it’s like to be kids, to have those hopes and fears and dreams, and can get into it just as well. Family movies aren’t movies for kids, necessarily, but they are movies for families, that can be enjoyed by everyone, because everyone can relate to the story and characters. This means that family movies tend to be pretty basic, uncomplicated, full of what could be derogatorily called ‘false excitement’, with characters that are fairly static and simple, but with gripping emotional themes that everyone can get behind.

In the case of The Goonies?

It fits the bill every step of the way.

In the end, The Goonies is an adventure film, one that promises it’s audience excitement and pays off every minute, and a comedy film that promises laughs, and again, delivers, and in being both of those things, it’s also a family film, with both of those things, and lots of heart to go with it, to offer in spades to an entire family.

The result?

The Goonies is an exciting, charming, funny adventure film about kids who are charming, funny, and adventurous, leading to a perfect, consistent tonal blend that manages to stay with the movie from start to finish, creating a roller coaster, amusement-park ride of a film that has been loved, with good reason, by people of all ages since it was first released, entertaining families passing it down through generations for over thirty years, and will continue to entertain families for years to come, as long as kids continue to be kids, and adults can remember what being a kid is like.

Don’t forget to leave a comment, like, or some other form of love if you enjoyed this analysis, and please, follow for more articles like this! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you in the next article.

#80s #1985 #Film #Movies #The Goonies #The Goonies 1985 #Adventure #Comedy #Family #PG #Sean Astin #Josh Brolin #Jeff Cohen #Corey Feldman #Kerri Green #Martha Plimpton #Ke Huy Quan #Richard Donner

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riversofmars · 4 years

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Okay, so as everyone is going mental about this first preview, here is my contribution! Oneshot inspired by the picture, very dark, psychologically unstable Doctor. At least she has River there to talk to... or does she? Rated M for emotional distress and trigger warning for referenced suicide attempt. Thoroughly cheerful read all in all! Read on AO3 or keep going under the cut :)

How Many Second In Eternity?

The Doctor ran a second horizontal line through eight vertical ones, completing another count of ten on the floor of her prison cell. She had run out of space on the dark walls, so she had turned to the floor. Carefully she returned her piece of chalk to the trouser pocket of her red jumpsuit, she had only been given the one and it had taken a lot of begging, so she had to look after it. It had also become precious to her as it was the only thing she owned. Within minutes of her arrival at the prison they had taken everything from her. Her sonic screwdriver, her psychic paper, everything else she carried in the pockets of her long coat, the clothes themselves of course, along with her dignity.

She sat cross-legged in the floor, tapping a steady rhythm with her index finger. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. She tapped in perfect time with her heartbeat, which was the only thing she could hear apart from her breathing. The walls of the prison were thick, sometimes she thought she was the only one here, and outside the one window was nothing but the emptiness of space.

“Must we do this again?“ A voice sounded behind the Doctor but she didn’t move, she didn’t even look up. That particular voice had long lost its startling qualities and element of surprise. There was a predictability to it by now.

“Apparently we do.“ The Doctor’s voice was weak and feeble, barely above a whisper.

“Why always me?“ River Song stepped out of the shadows and into the Doctor’s field of vision. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Who else would it be, River? You are always here to me. I can always see you.“ The Doctor spoke the words almost like a mantra without looking up at her. She was just going through the motions, it had become a sort of ritual.

“Why not my parents for a change? Or Donna? You miss Donna! Clara perhaps?“ River suggested looking around the cell, clearly annoyed. It was only them here.

“You know there is only you…“ The Doctor huffed and, looking at the new line she had drawn, she wiped a tear from her face. She was surprised that they still came every now and then. She would have thought she’d run out of tears. They didn’t announce themselves and sometimes she didn’t notice she’d been crying for hours.

“Because you still think my data ghost could actually be here and that would mean you’re not crazy.“ River concluded throwing her hands in the air, thoroughly exasperated. She shook her head and started circling around the blonde woman on the floor.

“Great, so let’s do the dance again but let’s try to save some time.“ River carried on and clapped her hands together.

“You will ask if I’m here and I will drop cryptic hints one way or another and you will avoid them - pretending like you didn’t hear - because really, you don’t want to figure it out.“ She laughed in a bitter sort of way.

“Because if I’m not really here, then I’m a figment of your imagination. That makes you certifiably crazy and that’s not a very nice thing to admit to yourself.“ She paused for a moment, waiting for her words to sink in but she didn’t get a response. So the carried on, even more annoyed: “Or I am some sort of data ghost and I am here. In which case my mind is still trapped in the Library and you never came to save me. Therefore, I’m a constant reminder of your failure.“ She came to a halt in front of her and crouched down leaning in.

“Am I close.“ She questioned, the Doctor didn’t answer and avoided her gaze. One-two-three-four, her fingers tapped one the cold floor. So River straightened up again and carried on wandering around the cell, getting more and more angry for her lack of response. “So we keep pretending like it could be either and you hope you’re not crazy but equally struggle to face your mistakes and regrets. And you’ve had so much time to think about this. About the times where you went wrong and the things that you didn’t do and now might never do. And somehow I’ve come top of that list.“ She laughed. “And that’s a pretty high bar, you have so many regrets, so many mistakes…“

“And I’m paying for them!“ The Doctor snapped, suddenly jumping to her feet, she took some threatening steps towards her and jabbed her finger at her.

“This is new.“ River realised, taken aback for a moment.

“I’m paying for my mistakes, River, when will it be enough?!“ The Doctor buried her face in her hands, letting out a sob. Her legs gave way, clearly not used to carrying her own weight anymore. River remained silent for a moment, just watching her curl over, shaking with sobs, all the while her fingers tapping the same four-time-beat. It had sped up. Just like the Doctor’s heartbeat upon her emotional outburst.

“What’s with the tally?“ River asked softly. It was a question she had never asked before. She looked around the cell, covered in chalk marks. “They’re not days, this is an astroid, there is no day or night, so what’s with the tally?“ River pushed on when the Doctor didn’t answer.

“They’re the people I’ve killed, River.“ The Doctor whispered at last.

“You’ve never killed anyone.“ River was quick to correct her. She had never intentionally harmed anyone.

“Not killed then.“ The Doctor breathed and gave a shrug. “The people who’s deaths I’m responsible for, does that sound better? People I didn’t save.“ She wiped her eyes and looked up at her. Her gaze was distant now, her voice devoid of emotion, as if all emotion had drained out of her along wth her tears. “Every time I remember another, I add them and think about what I should have done to save them.“ She traced an idle finger along the closest set of lines on the floor. “I never realised there were so many. This is what happens when you have time to think… You’re right, I have made so many mistakes, so many regrets…“

“Doctor, this isn’t right.“ River spoke firmly. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for not being able to save someone, you’re not a God, you can’t save everyone.“

“I’m holding myself responsible for not saving you. Every day.“ The Doctor’s voice was bitter, angry and regretful. It wasn’t so much the fact that she had allowed River to sacrifice herself all those years ago. It had been her choice and the Doctor had done what she could. She had saved her consciousness to the Library’s data base and without knowledge of who River was at the time. She didn’t blame herself for that. It was the fact that she had never gone back. After learning who River was, falling in love with her more and more after every encounter in their reverse timelines… even after Darillium when their story had come full circle, why had she never gone back and tried to save her? For fear for failure? For feeling too guilty? She liked to tell herself it was, because she hadn’t figured out how to save her yet. She hadn’t wanted to give her false hope or cause her pain by paying her visits before the day she could save her. None of the possible explanation took away from her self-loathing.

“You did the best you could.“ River spoke softly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this River, how many more lines will I have to draw?“ The Doctor sobbed, her emotions returning like a tidal wave, sweeping her away. Her distress turning into fear, into blind panic. “My brain just won’t stop!“ She buried her face in her hands, then ran them through her hair, pressing against her temples unable to remain still. “Thousands of years worth of memory… going at a frantic pace… It’s only when you’re here that I can even…“ One-two-three-four.

River crouched down next to her and took her hand, stilling her tapping fingers. For a moment, her touch felt real, comforting and warm and everything else disappeared. The Doctor’s racing thoughts ground to a halt, focusing on her wife’s hand on hers.

“It’s okay, I’m here.“ River reassured her with a smile.

“Of course you are…“ The Doctor said softly, firmly, as if it was the obvious, inevitable conclusion as her emotions ebbed away. She didn’t allow herself to doubt. River sat down next to her and put her arms around her. The Doctor leaned against her and closed her eyes. She could sense her there even if she didn’t feel her. There was no warmth radiating from her body, her didn’t hear her breathing or her heartbeats in the silence or smell the sweet perfume she missed so much. Whether she was a ghost or a part of her subconscious, either way she wasn’t real. Her brain was tricking her into feeling her touch and rationally, she knew that.

How much longer would they have to keep doing this, she wondered. What was a life sentence to an immortal? She had potentially infinite regenerations ahead of her. Whole of life in prison, in other words, eternity. And it wasn’t even like she could put a premature end to it. She had nothing but her piece of chalk…

There had been one time when she had tried - probably too early on - when she had still got cutlery with her meals… it had been messy and she didn’t do a good job of it, it wasn’t even serious enough to make her regenerate but there had been no cutlery since. She hadn’t had the strength of her convictions back then, it had been born out of anger and impulse. She would do a better job of it now but that option was gone. And even if she managed to injury herself seriously enough, she had no means of interrupting the regeneration process. Entertaining the idea, as tempting as it was at times, was pointless.

At the time, they hadn’t even bothered to bandage up her wrists, they had just taken the fork away. It had been River that had looked after her. That had been the first time she had appeared to her. And she had told her that she was a idiot to think she could cheat eternity like that.

“How many seconds in eternity, River?“ The Doctor whispered, barely audible.

“You know… there is this mountain of pure diamond…“ River retorted with a sad smile stroking her wife’s hair.

“I know.“ The Doctor sighed. “It takes an hour to climb it and an hour to go around it.“

“And every hundred years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak.“ River hummed.

“And when the entire mountain is chiselled away the first second of eternity will have passed.“ A tear ran down the Doctor’s face again as she felt her age in her bones. The millennia weighing her down. “And the fact that you’re quoting that back to me means you’re in my head and not really here.“ She should just accept that and be done with it.

“Or, I’m stuck in the greatest Library in the universe and where there is plenty of books on the Brothers Grimm.“ River countered.

“Hm.“ The Doctor huffed, taking her point.

“All I’m saying is: You’re one hell of a bird.“ River kissed the top of her wife’s head.

“Ha. That’s funny. Cause I’m a girl now. That’s funny.“ The Doctor laughed despite herself. She couldn’t believe she had actually just dropped a pun in the middle of her emotional breakdown. She kept laughing and it felt good, though her muscles barely remembered how to.

“All I’m saying is, don’t give up.“ River chuckled.

“There it is again!“ The Doctor exclaimed suddenly and stopped laughing. She leaned forward, listening.

“What my love?“ River frowned as her wife pulled away, barely paying attention to her now.

“The knocking…“ The Doctor jumped to her feet and rushed to the other side of the room, pressing herself to the wall to listen. She knelt down and knocked herself, almost as if answering. One-two-three-four.

“Can’t you hear it? There is always four knocks. Almost sounds like…“ She looked around and River was gone. One-two-three-four. The Doctor’s head whipped back around to the wall as she was sure she heard knocking again, more insistent, again and again, like the sound of drums. “It’s always here when you’re not…“ She mumbled and turned round to check again but River wasn’t there anymore. So she tapped her fingers, one-two-three-four.

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 2

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~2,300

Warnings: None

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

Start from the beginning Next Chapter Read on AO3 Masterlist

Lilah slid into a chair and regarded the lovers. Kate was sitting in Richie’s lap, rolling her eyes as he pressed intermittent kisses on her cheeks and neck. She’d grown used to their easy affection since the brothers had saved Kate from Amaru. For the first few days, Richie had hardly let go of Kate’s hand, would go where she went, snarling at anyone who came a little too close. Even now, he didn’t go very long without touching her, no matter the situation—a hand on her thigh, a the small of her back, toying with her hair. Kate seemed to take it all in stride, a soft smile that somehow made her look impossibly young.

It was Kate’s eyes that Lilah noticed first when she’d stepped through the doors of Jackknife Jed’s. They flashed with gloom, aging her in a way that in no way reflected in her actual face. Looking at her made Lilah feel so disjointed that she still struggled to hold the younger woman’s gaze. Still, despite the unease, Lilah liked Kate. She certainly made dealing with the ever-arguing brothers just a little bit easier. Lilah couldn’t so easily be out-voted any more, and that was worth the disquiet she sometimes felt in Kate’s presence.

The door to the office flung open, Seth barreling through with no regard for how it hit the shelf behind it, a few of Richie’s knickknacks shaking in their stands. He was wiping sweat from his brow, his ever present frown just a little deeper than normal. Lilah’s eyes narrowed as she watched him come closer.

“Hey, watch the merchandise,” Richie called out, one hand lifting from around Kate’s middle to gesture broadly at the memorabilia.

Fandom was the one thing that Lilah and Richie really agreed on. They’d spent a lot of time on stake outs talking Star Trek, and then Firefly, followed by a whole host of niche geeky topics. He was surprisingly insightful about the little details that made each show unique. And, Lilah had spent a lot of time in hotels watching old B horror movies to be able to hold her own when he went down a rabbit hole. It made the fact that she disagreed with him about the tenants of Jedi life acceptable, in his mind.

“We’ve got bigger problems than Obi Wan’s lightsaber, Richie.”

Seth was definitely in a mood. He might not understand Richie’s interests, and he might roll his eyes when his brother went on a tangent about canon timelines, but he at least respected Richie’s belongings enough that he didn’t intentionally screw around with them. This, whatever it was, was serious. Lilah eyed him narrowly, waiting.

Eyes vaguely betrayed, Richie muttered, “Its Mace Windu.”

Kate patted Richie’s arm lightly, saying, “What’s the problem?”

Rounding his desk, Seth sat heavily. After a deep sigh, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, tossing it on the desk in front of him. It bounced, making a soft ‘shhh’ sound as it slid across the pressed wood of the tabletop.

“We got a message today,” he explained, “And I don’t know what to make of it.”

Lilah leaned forward and plucked it up with two fingers. The paper was a heavy vellum, thick woven. She unfolded it, curious. The ink was a deep red, the lettering thick. As she brought it closer to read, Lilah caught a fragrance that had followed her in the weeks since their last failed mission.

Oh, no.

The letter was meticulously worded. The writing thick and bold, swirling softly around the crosses. Formal. Elegant. Commanding. Brasa.

Lilah read and re-read it, “He’s asking for peace.”

She looked at Seth, brows lifted in surprise. Then, she stood, stepped to Richie’s desk, and handed it to the younger brother. All the while, she tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. Lilah was grateful that Seth never bothered with the overhead lights, that only the lamps on either desk illuminated the room. Her face was hot, her hands shaking. She didn’t know how to stand so as to draw no attention to herself while she internally panicked.

“He’s playing a game,” Seth said as he opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a bottle, yanking out the stopper, and drinking straight from it. “Its a trap.”

Richie took a few moments to read the letter before Kate took it from him. She stood and read it, as well. Lilah watched her face, trying to discern her reaction. Kate chewed her thumbnail as her eyes flicked over the page, her brows together. A shadow passed over her expression.

“No,” Kate uttered so low that Lilah almost didn’t hear it, “He’s really asking for peace.”

Lilah didn’t have the time to think about how she might know that, or the implications. Or, how she might feel about those implications.

Seth scoffed, “How the fuck do you know that?”

Setting the letter down on Richie’s desk, Kate shrugged, “I spent a lot of time with him when I was...when she was inside me.” She sniffed, “Even though Amaru thought they were bullshit, he obeys the old laws. This is a formal call for peace talks. He’s written it in his own blood.”

Lilah felt her eyes widen, shocked that Kate could tell whose blood was on the paper. Shocked even further that someone would write a letter in their literal blood. Shocked still further that she cared how he might have procured his own blood in enough supply to write such a letter.

There were a few side effects from Kate’s possession, little quirks that Kate would sometimes display without really thinking. She’d stand up way too fast, know who might walk through the door next, hear conversations from the next room. Lilah did her best to just roll with it, but this was a little bit too freaky for Lilah’s normal ‘roll with it’ sensibilities. She deliberately set it aside, hoping that she wouldn’t need to examine the thought later.

Richie lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke through his nose, “Why now? We’ve spent the last six months fighting and killing each other, and now he wants to talk peace.”

Lilah sat down, folding her hands in her lap as she tried very hard not to think this was about her. She could not be so self-centered as to think that Brasa would give up a war just because she happened to be on the other side. A war he was, by all accounts, winning as the Gecko’s ceded more and more territory to the culebras he seemed to govern. There had to be another explanation. A trap, maybe, a false sense of security.

“Alright,” Seth drawled, “We get him in a room and gank him.”

Kate gasped, looking horrified, “We have a chance to get real progress, here. Do you want to fight forever?”

Lilah definitely knew the answer to that question. Seth’s entire life was a fight—physical or otherwise. He wasn’t comfortable if there wasn’t some sort of conflict to battle through, his brother at his side. Even if they achieved peace, he’d be at someone’s throat within twenty four hours. It was both endearing and utterly frustrating to watch him cycle through the same motions over and over.

Seth rose, leaning his hands on the desk, “You, more than anyone, have a reason to want every one of those snakes dead.”

Sneering, Kate crossed her arms, “I, more than anyone, have a reason to want all of this to stop. I don’t want to see any more death.”

Behind her, Richie shifted uneasily in his chair. Lilah took each of them in, knowing there was far more history than she was privy to playing out right in front of her. It left her feeling like she couldn’t make a good decision, didn’t have enough data to create a strategy. This was not her preferred method of moving through life. She remained still, waiting.

“We should meet with him,” Kate asserted, hip cocking to the side.

It was not a rare occasion that Kate would insist that they act in a certain way. She had a strong moral compass that clashed with the brothers’ more criminal predilections. More often than not, Kate centered them, kept them from going too far. Lilah was grateful. She had never been successful in stemming off their momentum, once they got started.

“Absolutely not,” Seth shot back, his mouth a firm line.

Lilah surprised herself by adding, “I agree with Seth.”

Richie stubbed out his cigarette, “I’m with Kate.”

This was not surprising. Richie tended to side with Kate on most things. Lilah caught the look he sent Kate, though Kate was still looking at Seth. His eyes were following the line of her petite body, admiring in a way that made Lilah look away, embarrassed.

Seth circled his desk, leaning his hip against it, “Two against two. How’re we going to break the tie?”

There was a beat of silence, then Richie stood and offered up his fist, “Best out of three?”

When Richie beat Seth two to one, Seth gave him a hardy ‘fuck you’ and strode from the room. Richie heaved a beleaguered sigh and followed him. Lilah dropped her head in her hands, boggled by the decision making skills of her partners. Rock, paper scissors...honestly.

“Why don’t you want to meet with them?”

Lilah lifted her eyes at the question, feeling her chest constrict, “I won’t have to do the actual meeting, Kate.” Lie, lie, lie, Lilah, “I just don’t think we’ll be successful.”

Kate tilted her head to the side, “You think its a trap?”

Lilah grabbed onto that line of thinking. It was logical, far more logical than ‘No, Kate. I just don’t want to meet up with someone who claims I am his bondmate and with whom I have exchanged blood’. Even in her head, it sounded so incredibly stupid. Not to mention the fact that she’d been hiding it long enough that admitting it would only lead to suspicion.

“I think Seth is too hot headed,” Lilah clarified quickly, “I think that it’ll fall apart before it even gets started.”

There, that was a convincing lie that was pretty grounded in enough truth that even Lilah half believed it. She very carefully did not study Kate’s face to see if the lie had landed.

Kate moved closer, her ancient gaze peering at Lilah carefully, “You’re right.”

Oh. Okay.

“Thank you.”

“You need to go with them.”

Ah, fuck.

“What?”

Kate nodded, her expression hardening, “You go with them, keep things level, make this work.”

“Me?” Lilah didn’t like how high her voice came out. She cleared her throat, “No, you know them better than I do. You go. Bring me whatever contract they draw up, I’ll red line it, make sure its fair.”

That was her role. Look over the game plan, find the flaws, work out the kinks. In that, Lilah was comfortable and safe. No need to put herself back in a room with Brasa. No need to let this get even more out of hand. No need for the messiness that would come from that.

Shaking her head, Kate took a step back, “I can’t. I can’t face him. What I did to him was,” she searched for words, “terrible.”

The sudden turn of Kate’s tone, the way her face screwed up in real disgust, made Lilah sit up and stake notice. Where had this come from?

She inhaled, trying to parse the words, “What does that mean?”

Kate’s eyes were focused on the middle distance, her mouth quivering, “Amaru loved torture, all kinds of torture. She didn’t care who it was that she hurt. I—she liked,” Another breath, “Brasa was blood bound to her, she could make him do things, do anything. She never got her hands dirty, but him…”

Lilah waited for more, but Kate simply stopped speaking. She looked shell shocked, tears welling up. God, but Lilah had been completely fooled by Kate’s frequent smiles and clear headedness. She hadn’t known how much trauma the hell queen had put Kate through, hadn’t even thought that Kate was conscious of the things that she’d done while trapped inside her own body. Moved to action, she stood and embraced Kate, saying to her the only comfort she could think to give.

“Its the past. And, it wasn’t you.” Then, “Are you still blood bound?”

She felt like real shit for asking, but she needed to know what Brasa’s relationship was with Kate, and if it would make their own relationship (did they even have a relationship?) more complicated. Kate made a soft sound in the negative and Lilah let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. That was one complication she had, thankfully, avoided.

Kate’s body was taut, “When she first brought me back, when I met him, I felt the power I had over him. And, she abused it. I drained him dry that first night, to regain her strength. After three days, when he managed to stand up off the ground, she did it again. Because she could.” Kate pulled back and looked at Lilah, “That wasn’t even the worst of it. How can I look him in the eye after all that?”

Lilah shook her head, “Like I said, it wasn’t you. And, if he really wants to talk peace, he’ll set it aside. If not, fuck ‘im.”

That, at least, was the truth. Lilah had been fighting his kind of less than a year and she was tired of it. She wanted peace. She wanted to go on nice, normal jobs—jewel theft, a bank heist, possibly even some fine art that they could sell on the black market. Stuff that was in her wheelhouse, in her comfort zone. If he was going to hold Kate responsible for the actions of Amaru, then he wasn’t worth negotiating with. Full stop.

Kate loosed a soundless laugh, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #brasa #In the Bond

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, bloodspeckledraphael!

For @bloodspeckledraphael, who asked for, among others, Hogwarts!AU. I hope you like it!

Summary: Gryffindors are thoughtless and dumb but have the best parties. Ravenclaws know their shit but they are boring. Slytherins are either ruthless snobs or overly protective. And Hufflepuffs? Hufflepuffs are all just dull.

You don't need to know the Harry Potter series to read this but there are some references for fans.

Vaguely inspired by 'Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day' by faithwood: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359705

There is this challenge for authors to summarize their stories but in a bad way. Here, it would be this: What would a group of teenagers do if trapped in the middle of a dangerous, magical forest? Discuss ethics.

Warnings for: AU, as this Hogwarts isn't exactly like the one from the Harry Potter series. There is swearing, light angst, a bit of violence, and one blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to suicide. Not betaed.

*****

How to Add Ethics to the School Curriculum

“Who?” repeats Lydia.

Stiles knew it would be difficult but this is getting ridiculous. “Derek Hale.”

“And where is he now?”

Stiles grimaces and flicks his hand in his direction without looking.

“That's a Hufflepuff table,” says Lydia haltingly.

“Because he's a Hufflepuff,” explains Stiles. “Captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team?” he tries, looking at Jackson.

Jackson stares back, his face grave. “I hoped it was just a matching name,” he says to Lydia.

“Stiles... Are you sure you like him?”

Stiles frowns at them. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“No,” says Jackson. “No, you don't. Just — look.” He pauses, searching for arguments. “What about Scott?”

“What about Scott,” echoes Stiles.

“I thought you two were dating?”

Stiles makes a face. “I keep telling you we're friends.”

“Slytherin and Gryffindor, friends,” mutters Jackson. “Just saying, dating makes more sense. Hatred turned to passion and all that.”

Stiles stares at him. “Scott is dating Allison.”

Jackson shrugs. “You'd hardly be the first one in a polyamorous relationship.”

Stiles tries to wrap his mind around the cultural differences. Gay relationships, sure. Polyamorous relationships, go ahead. Slytherin and Hufflepuff, no fucking way.

“Well,” he starts, “it's not. And Derek likes me back, okay.”

“Saving grace,” mutters Lydia. “He'd have to be blind as well as stupid not to.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “You won't detour me with a backhanded compliment. Derek's not stupid.”

“Stiles,” Lydia sighs. “He's a Hufflepuff.”

Stiles turns to Jackson.

“They are all stupid,” says Jackson. “Gryffindors are thoughtless and dumb but have the best parties. Ravenclaws know their stuff though by Merlin's beard, they're boring. But Hufflepuffs are all just dull.”

Stiles tries to process this. “What about Slytherins?”

“Clearly, we're the only ones worth anything here.”

“Fine. We'll just spy on this Derek,” decides Lydia. “We need more data.”

“You’re making it sound like I asked you to spy on Derek even though I'm against that.” Stiles frowns. “I won't pay you for that.” He considers. “Well, that depends on the information but... I mean, ethically...”

Lydia raises her eyebrows. “We care about you, Stiles,” she says, “not about ethics.”

* * *

“Playing quidditch instead of preparing for tomorrow's Potions, Captain Hale?” asks Stiles, smirking.

Derek smiles at him. “Stiles. I hoped you'd come.”

Derek's honesty is incredibly effective. Stiles feels his cheeks grow hot and clears his throat. “Hoped? You want me to beat you at quidditch again?”

“You didn't beat me at quidditch, Stiles,” replies Derek. “You've abused all the rules.”

“I won, though. And I've never said I was going to obey the rules.”

“You agreed to play quidditch but whatever you did... That wasn't quidditch.”

“Yeah, well, all rules are negotiable.”

“Including potion rules?” asks Derek, looking at Stiles from under his lashes.

“Obviously not,” says Stiles, half offended at the mere idea, half distracted.

“Speaking about Potions — I saw Leaping Toadstool growing nearby Whomping Willow.”

“We should get it for Baruffio's Brain Elixir,” says Stiles, excited.

Derek beams. “Right? I don't think the team understood my excitement, though.”

“Clearly, they don't deserve you.”

Derek drops his eyes, smiling.

“And imagine Slughorn's face when he hears that we found Leaping Toadstool just laying around. He always complains about the lack of funds for the ingredients.”

“I thought we could tell him about it, yeah...”

“To cherish the glee? You’re evil, Captain Hale.” Not the most suitable place for the title in the context but Stiles can't help it. He loves seeing Derek blush at the words and always looks for a way to add them in.

“No, he may want to know the place to search for that himself. I mean, Leaping Toadstool often grows in groups, right?”

“Well, we can have different motives,” says Stiles and imagines Slughorn's shock and misery. “The result will be the same.”

Derek looks up at him as if about to ask something, but then there's a whizz and Stiles barely moves in time to avoid it. “Jesus, what was that?”

Derek keeps his eyes on him longer than normally. Stiles knows it's his choice of words, always a bit strange for those born in wizards' world but he won't change it. It's one of his quirks that Derek seems to like.

“Boyd has found a spell to make the Snitch more erratic. We use it sometimes during practice.”

Stiles shakes his head. “How does he find those spells?”

“He reads odd books at the library.”

Stiles laughs. “You mean those from the Restricted Section?”

Derek doesn't reply.

Stiles' eyes widen. “Seriously? I have to go sometime with him.”

“First, you can't prove anything. Second, it's not that exciting. He just reads.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Of course not,” Derek lies.

Stiles licks his lips, fully aware of Derek's attention. “Friday at midnight next to the library?”

Derek regards him for a second. “It's a date.”

Stiles grins.

They hear some voices and turn.

“Why is Jackson flying to the Forbidden Forest?”

“I think he's chasing the Snitch,” says Derek. “Erica and Boyd are with him, I need to-”

“I'm going with you,” decides Stiles at once. He takes the broom and searches for Lydia. “Lyds!” he shouts. “Need you!”

After a while, Lydia catches up to them, taking a broom someone left behind after the practice.

“What's going on?”

“Jackson is going to the Forbidden Forest,” explains Stiles. “I don't think I could get him to turn back by myself.”

Lydia nods. “Good call.”

“Does this happen often?” asks Stiles, turning to Derek.

“We usually stop the Snitch before it goes too far,” replies Derek. “Arresto Momentum is powerful enough for that.”

“Right,” says Stiles. He's still getting used to the way everything is solved with magic, and if that doesn't work, more magic.

“Jackson!” cries Lydia suddenly and speeds up, flying past them.

They both turn to see Jackson falling from his broom to the ground, Boyd and Erica flying down after him.

They lean forward, focused only on getting to the rest of the group as soon as possible, and duck to the ground. Stiles feels something odd for a second, his skin turning cold, but he dismisses the sensation, resolved to manage the crisis at hand.

“What happened?” asks Derek, landing next to him.

Erica is kneeling next to Jackson and mutters a spell, putting her wand to his head.

Jackson looks up with a frown. “Bloody hell,” he mutters. “I could've sworn there was a wall or something — I just couldn't go through,” he says.

“Are you okay?” asks Lydia.

“I'm fine.”

“He will be fine,” confirms Erica. “He just needs to rest a little. I saw a lot of guys falling like that during quidditch.”

“Is that what you Hufflepuffs do?” smirks Jackson. “Practice falling down?”

“It comes in handy,” replies Erica, ignoring his sarcasm.

Stiles hears a swish right next to him and moves away from the ball. “Oh, for the love of-” he starts, incredulous, “what's this thing still doing here?”

Derek takes out his wand to stop the Snitch but it changes the course suddenly and the spell falls flat. He tries again and it drops to the ground, now still.

Boyd puts it in his pocket and raises his hand, suddenly freezing it in the air. He takes out his other hand and they move as if against a wall.

“What the-”

Erica frowns and takes a broom to fly off to the side just to suddenly stop. She moves in a different direction to be stopped again, and again. They seem to be surrounded by invisible walls.

Stiles sees a movement from the corner of his eye and looks up.

“Hey, guys!” says Scott, suddenly flying in and landing next to Stiles. Allison appears next to him, not quite as excited as beaming Scott. “So what are we doing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest?”

“We're trapped,” replies Lydia.

* * *

“Can't we just cast these red flares, Periculum?” suggests Scott.

“We can't be sure someone at Hogwarts will notice us,” says Erica.

“But we can be sure we'll be noticed by everything in here,” says Allison. “It's not a good idea, Scott.”

“Maybe simply — Evanesco,” tries Boyd. The barrier doesn't vanish.

“Actually,” says Lydia slowly, “I've been preparing a spell just for times like this.” She closes her eyes, focusing, and after a beat, a small smile appears on her face. She raises her wand and says, “Expecto Patronum!”

Something similar to a cat — a kneazle, remember Stiles — appears, sitting tall and dignified, waiting for Lydia's orders.

“So that's what you've been doing,” realizes Stiles. “I thought you were preparing a horrible attack on me.”

Lydia smiles proudly and says to the kneazle, “Go find the closest professor and tell him we're trapped here and need help. Be quick!”

The kneazle goes off to the side just to stop suddenly. It tries to go through again but visibly can't.

“It works on the spells, too,” says Derek quietly. “So we're in what seems to be a cube as there's a sort of ceiling. It's rectangular in shape, ten steps on the short side, about twenty steps on the long side. None of us seems to leave, even though we all entered without a problem. There are no holes or breaks.”

Silence settles between them.

“Exactly,” says Jackson suddenly. “A hole. A break. There must be something,” he adds, walking to the far side and starts checking it inch by inch.

“I wonder how big is the range of the Accio spell,” wonders Boyd. “We'll need something to drink and some food.”

“I tried summoning my cookies from my hometown back in California but they never reached Hogwarts,” supplies Stiles.

“That may have something to do with Hogwarts' wards,” replies Lydia.

Stiles stares at her. “You mean, they did fly all this way just to be stopped before reaching me?” He looks to the ground, crestfallen.

“Boyd left his stuff on the quidditch grounds,” says Erica. “I'll try getting it. I mean... if this barrier doesn't actually stop all the spells.”

She casts a spell and they all look up, waiting.

Nothing happens.

“Well. We have an answer, this barrier does stop all the spells.” Erica sighs and reaches for her bag. “Do you still remember this spell stealing the drink from the closest person you don't like?”

Boyd nods and casts it, touching the bottle Erica supplies, with his wand. More water appears inside.

“What a dumb spell,” comments Lydia, shaking her head. “We can just use Aguamenti, you know.”

“Now we can survive at least 3 days,” says Allison. “That's how long people survive solely on the water with no major damage,” she adds when everyone looks at her.

“What about — Finite Incantatem,” says Erica, touching the barrier with her wand. “Nothing. Figures this shit would be advanced.”

Derek frowns. “Wait. We all entered here together with the brooms. Boyd's ball came in, too. But none of us or the things that entered can leave.”

Lydia looks at him sharply. “Anything can come in, but nothing can leave.” She pauses. “And we're in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.”

A horrible realization dawns on them.

“I need something to note,” says Stiles. “I know some spells to protect us but we need to keep check of them.”

Boyd mutters something and says, “Tell me the spells. I'll take note of them.”

“I'll help you,” says Allison. “I know some spells against magical creatures.”

“Well,” starts Scott. “That's not what I expected coming here.”

“How did you know where we are?” asks Derek.

“I saw you flying through when I was going to the quidditch field to train with Allison.”

“I heard that,” says Stiles. “Train with Allison, huh? How ambitious.”

“Have you cast Impervius already?” asks Lydia. “Then do it now. Also, you weren't much better.”

“Well, you weren't either!” calls Stiles. “You only came because you like to ogle sweating Jackson!”

Jackson smirks but keeps checking the invisible walls. “At least there's something to ogle.”

“Lydia totally implied I was good looking!”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Oh, she implied it?”

“You were there when it happened!”

“Protego,” says Lydia. “Remember to cast this one, too.”

Stiles huffs out but starts working with Boyd and Allison while Jackson goes on checking the invisible wards, keeping them inside.

“You know, for a Hufflepuff you're surprisingly good at hiding your feelings,” says Lydia, turning to Derek.

Derek grimaces. “So you noticed I'm jealous of your relationship with Stiles,” he says quietly. “What do you want?”

“To assess whether you're good enough for him.”

“Go ahead, then, assess,” shrugs Derek. “By the way... You said that Boyd's spell was stupid,” he says. “Well, look at this one. It's stupidly fancy.”

Boyd is taking notes of the spells cast by writing them in the air in different colours and moving at his will.

“I like this one,” says Lydia. “The notes will be visible even in the darkness but the sun is setting now and we'll want more light. But we shouldn't advertise our presence here... Does anyone know any invisibility spells?”

No one replies.

“I tried learning some but they're all too difficult,” says Derek. “There's one — it's not invisibility but rather escaping attention. Not hiding your presence but diminishing it.”

Lydia narrows her eyes at him. “Why would you learn a spell like that?”

“To escape talking to people,” says Derek bluntly. “But I don't know if it will work on magical creatures and animals.”

“Won't hurt to try,” shrugs Lydia.

“But won't that hide us from the people searching for us?” asks Erica.

“I doubt anyone has noticed yet,” replies Lydia. “It's too early and we all know each other here — the others will think we've sneaked out together on purpose.”

Derek casts the spell, closing his eyes. This is the first time he uses the spell on anything other than himself and it takes more focus than he expected — the space is big to wrap his mind around.

“So — light spell or vision in the darkness?” asks Lydia. “What's more efficient? What's more effective? Oh, this is difficult. I'll write my next essay for Charms about that.”

“So what do we do now?” asks Scott.

Erica shrugs. “Think, I guess.”

* * *

“I'm bored,” complains Scott, laying on the ground.

“You’re in the middle of the Forbidden Forest,” reminds him Derek.

“And I'm bored.”

“Think of all the creatures out there,” suggests Erica. “Does that help?”

“...yes.”

“We're running out of ideas,” says Stiles. “Any other protective or defensive spells?”

“Did you cast Stealth Sensoring Spell?” asks Derek.

“No,” replies Boyd, checking his floating notes.

“What's that?” asks Stiles.

“It detects those under magical disguise.”

“Are we gonna need that?”

“Are you sure we won't?”

“That's fair,” nods Stiles.

Derek casts the spell.

Erica looks to the side, frowning. “Did you guys hear that?”

“No,” mutters Jackson, still inspecting their confines. “Busy.”

“You know what would be more productive?” says Stiles. “You should learn casting Expecto Patronus from Lydia. I bet your Patronus would be so slimy it would slip through somehow.”

Jackson flips him off but doesn't pause in his work.

“No, seriously. I heard that again. Like, barking? Or uh, howling,” says Erica.

Derek tenses. “About that — did we cast an auditory spell?”

“No,” says Boyd.

Lydia casts Silencio quickly. Just as she is about to tuck off her wand, they see a wolf.

“Fuck,” says Stiles, cutting the silence.

“Okay,” says Derek quietly. “Take out your wands, slowly.” He does so himself and without looking away, asks, “What can you tell us about wolves, Allison?”

Allison takes an audible breath. “They are deadly,” she replies. “They won't hesitate to attack and kill. Also,” Allison pauses, as if pulling herself together, “this may be a person. A werewolf.”

“So. Silver?” suggests Stiles after a beat of silence.

“You and your Muggle ideas,” says Jackson with contempt. “Silver doesn't kill werewolves.”

“Well,” starts Lydia, “it can hurt-”

The wolf jumps but is stopped by the shield spell. It growls, its teeth shining.

“The barrier won't withhold it for long,” says Allison. “We have to think of something.”

“Fire,” says Derek. “Fire can kill almost anything.”

“It may not be enough,” warns Lydia.

“Bully spells,” says Stiles. “We all know those shitty spells. Ears to kumquats, pimples, suspension by the ankle, legs dancing against your will.”

The wolf walks to the side and jumps just to be stopped again.

“If we cast all those at once, it may work,” says Allison.

“That's cruel,” says Scott.

“It's our chance to survive.”

“Choose the spell,” says Derek. “I can cast Incendio.”

“Immobulus,” says Allison.

“Rictusempra.”

Lydia shoots Stiles an incredulous glance. “You want to tickle it?”

“It's effective, okay?”

Lydia sighs. “Stupefy.”

The wolf jumps again, startling Erica. “I can only cast Furnunculus Curse!”

“So that he'd lose his beauty and retreat in shame?” asks Jackson. “Bat-Bogey Hex.”

“You’re disgusting,” mutters Erica.

“Reductio,” chooses Boyd.

“Scott?” prompts Derek.

“Langlock.”

Lydia turns to him. “How is tongue sticking to the roof of mouth going to help in-”

The wolf jumps and Allison shouts, “Now!”

The effect is a bizarre mix of colours, whirling together — there are flames, appearing and disappearing into bats, soon disintegrating. The wolf lets out an odd sound, something between a growl and a whine.

They all take a step back but now, the wolf is barely an arm's length away from Derek.

“Tarrantallegra!” cries Stiles but the wolf escapes the spell only limping.

“Stupefy!” tries Lydia again.

“Take the brooms,” orders Derek. “Fly up. I'll take care of it.”

“Fuck, Derek, this is no time to-”

“Now!” shouts Derek, cutting Stiles off.

Erica and Boyd are already flying up. “Reductio!” casts Boyd again. The spell hits the wolf but has barely any effect — it's still big, even compared to a large dog.

Allison finds a stone and with a spell, turns it to the one with sharp edges. “I can transfigure it to silver but I need time,” she says. “If we manage to drive it through its heart-”

“I can buy you time,” says Derek.

Allison and Scott go up, Scott choosing to hover low, ready to jump in at any moment.

“Stupefy!” casts Lydia again but the wolf is already jumping at her.

“Protego!” cries Jackson.

The shield is enough to slow down the wolf, enough so that he doesn't reach Lydia's hand. They fly up, out of the wolf's reach.

“Go,” says Derek to Stiles, who has two brooms in hand now. “Please!”

Stiles looks at him a while longer, not understanding, but then goes up. “Immobilus!” he shouts.

The spell hits the wolf and it is momentarily still.

“Incendio!” casts Derek again.

The flames go up; he can barely watch. The wolf jumps, then retreats. Derek can't tell what's happening anymore. He's not quite there when Allison shouts, “Ready!”

Derek doesn't know if it's a coincidence or knowing each other well enough to communicate with just looks, but Stiles and Scott cast Immobilus again together.

It's enough for Allison to fly in and thrust the silver right into the wolf's heart.

Erica flies down to her immediately and casts Vulnera Sanentur, healing her hand.

Lydia tries to stop the flames but only a few sparks come out instead. Her wand is broken from the wolf's attack.

She allows herself a curse with a sigh.

Boyd stops the flames and they are all on the ground again.

“I thought that Ravenclaws were boring,” admits Jackson suddenly. “I take that back.”

Allison huffs out a weak laugh.

“So, you think we could eat this?” wonders Jackson.

“I'm gonna puke,” says Erica.

Jackson rolls his eyes. “We may as well use all this meat.”

“That could be cannibalism,” says Allison. “We don't know if it was a wolf or a werewolf.”

There is silence as they process this information.

“It's still dead, though,” rationalizes Jackson.

Scott inspects the wolf. “Wow. My mum will never believe this.”

“Why wouldn't she?” asks Boyd.

“She's a Muggle,” explains Scott.

Jackson looks at him. “So you're a Mudblood?”

“Isn't that a slur?” asks Stiles.

“I think it was reclaimed,” says Erica but she doesn't sound sure.

“I'm fine with it,” shrugs Scott. “Although I'm not sure if it applies to me because my father was... is a pure-blood wizard. So I'm half-blood or something.”

“Huh. You don't have much experience in quidditch, though,” Jackson points out.

“He wasn't there much when I was growing up. Although he gave me a broom for my birthday once… But I guess the Ministry of Magic have figured it out because it wasn't working.”

“But your mom knows about magic?” asks Stiles.

Scott shrugs again. “Kind of.”

Jackson isn't listening anymore. “Your — your hand,” he says in a changed voice.

Derek finally looks away from the charred body of the wolf to turn to him. Jackson is pale, staring at the sleeve of Derek's robe.

“Derek,” says Lydia, “you're bleeding.”

Derek drops his eyes. “I'm fine.”

Erica heals his hand and bandages it with Ferula, not looking at anyone.

“You were bitten by what could have been a werewolf,” says Lydia, staring at him. “You could be-” she draws in a breath, “you could be turned.”

“I'm fine,” repeats Derek.

“What's going on?” asks Scott.

“Is that a problem?” Stiles looks around, puzzled. “It's not a full moon tonight, Derek's still human, and he says he's fine.”

“Werewolves kill whatever is around them once in their wolf form,” says Jackson. “They are not human anymore. They are just beasts.”

“He's right,” says Derek, looking at Stiles. “And I'm fine because I can't be turned. I'm a werewolf.”

* * *

“You knew,” says Lydia, looking at Erica and Boyd, who nod.

“I know the situation of lycanthropes is better now than it was,” starts Allison. “But how come we have a student at Hogwarts who turns into a bloodthirsty, killing beast once a month?”

“I get the Wolfsbane Potions,” replies Derek. “Professor McGonagall knows about me.”

“Oh, so at least you're wealthy,” Lydia points out.

Derek flinches as if struck.

“I don't see the problem,” says Stiles coldly. “Derek clearly has it under control. There haven't been any incidents — at least that we know of — and he's been here for a few years already. Really, the only thing it changes...”

Derek knows what's coming. He can't look at Stiles.

“Is that I need to become an Animagus quicker than anticipated.”

Lydia ignores him. “Did you want to become a werewolf?”

Derek tries to understand Stiles' response and is a bit late in answering. “No. I... it was an accident.”

It was Peter's curse, already changing their lives, but they didn't know it back then.

“Did you kill anyone?” asks Allison.

“No.”

“Then, again, I don't see a problem,” says Stiles. “Look, we have more pressing matters at hand.”

“Agreed,” says Erica.

Lydia looks at Derek a beat longer, then nods. “Fine.”

Jackson isn't convinced. He looks at Stiles. “You do realize lycanthropes still aren't treated the same as humans. There are still some who think they are more beasts than anything.”

“Oh, so there's prejudice.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “How novel.”

“Stiles,” starts Allison, “he could kill anyone here once turned. Just — think about this.”

Stiles looks right back. “There are some people who kill even without being turned.”

Allison looks away.

“Sorry to interrupt, but should we bury the body?” wonders Boyd.

“First, can anyone cast the Homorphus Charm?” asks Lydia.

There's no reply.

“Just to be sure, we should wait for someone to confirm it was a wolf and not...” Allison trails off.

“I agree,” says Erica. “I don't want to move it just yet.”

Derek casts a fairly strong Protego spell on the body, trying to keep his eyes on it without seeing anything.

Allison takes a step back from the group and feels the barrier behind her back. She slides down to the ground, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“What do you need?” asks Scott, sitting down next to her.

“It's not fine,” bursts out Allison. She winces and lowers her voice. “When you're human, you have a choice. But once you're turned, you can't control anything. You may slip one time and it's enough.”

“I know,” says Scott quietly, although he doesn't.

“My mom knew there was no choice. She knew it was all useless. She had the right to end her...”

Scott moves closer to her, bringing his arm around her.

“So, what, she was wrong?” asks Allison. “She just gave up?”

Scott doesn't answer. He knows that Allison, as well as many others around him, is more reflective, prone to consider different ideas. He wonders if there's a downside to it, if there's overthinking. He wouldn't know.

Allison sighs and draws her knees closer, hiding his face. “Thanks,” she mumbles.

If there was a crisis, it seems to have passed. Scott finds her hand and tightens his grip on it.

For a few minutes Allison just sits there with closed eyes. She doesn't listen to the hushed conversations around, especially the one between Stiles and Derek.

Finally, she feels ready to open her eyes again. She turns her head and sees a small spider on the other side. “Oh, hello,” she murmurs, managing a smile. “I wouldn't go ahead if I were you. Come on, turn around.” She watches as the spider comes closer. “No, really, you still have a chance... Oh, you poor thing,” she sighs. “You’re trapped here with us now.”

“I once tried a spell to communicate with spiders,” says Boyd.

Allison looks up, finding him also leaning against the barrier.

“It was weird.”

Allison stares at him for a beat longer. She didn't expect anyone would talk to her after the thing with Derek but then again, Hufflepuffs can be odd like that. “That sounds interesting.”

Boyd shakes his head. “It was just weird.”

Allison is waiting for details so he says, “You know Polyjuice, that changes your body to that of someone else? It works similarly, except what changes is your mind. For a few seconds I wasn’t really human anymore, my mind was that of a spider.”

They sit in silence for a beat when Allison chuckles suddenly. “It'd be nice to have you in Ravenclaw.”

“Uh, no,” starts Boyd, “I didn't want to join you guys. When the Sorting Hat gave me a choice I said Hufflepuff and here I am.”

Allison can't quite conceal her surprise. “Why didn't you want to join?”

Boyd shrugs. “My family wanted me in Ravenclaw.”

Allison blinks but doesn't press for more. The sorting to the houses is believed to be one of the most important events, a turning point in life. It leads to the arguments dividing the family, accusations of betrayal even though the decision is hardly the student's. She got lucky with the Ravenclaw; they are basically accepted everywhere. Yet even during her first dinner at the common table there were some students unhappy with the choice.

“Yes!” cries out Jackson suddenly. “I got it! It's right here,” he says, turning to them. “I knew there had to be a place where the barrier wouldn't work as well!”

Derek stares at him in amazement. “I admire your determination,” he says honestly.

Jackson scoffs. “How did you think I became the quidditch captain?”

Derek doesn't reply, startled. For him, it came easily: he's always been athletic and Laura loved playing quidditch. It was enough.

“Wow, awesome,” says Stiles flatly. “My palm barely fits through.”

Allison shrugs. “At least it's enough for the spider...” she trails off, looking at Boyd.

“We can't be sure it'll work,” cautions Boyd. “And even if it will, it may take too much time.”

“It's better than nothing,” replies Allison.

Boyd grimaces. “Right.” He turns to the rest and says. “I know a spell to communicate with spiders. Anyone wants to try?” he asks without a trace of hope.

Two hands fly up immediately. “Me!”

“Me! Totally!” joins Stiles.

Boyd frowns. “I didn't expect volunteers,” he says. “You do realize there's a chance that something will go wrong enough to change your mind irreparably?”

Stiles' hand goes down. He glances at Scott. “Uh, dude.”

“Talking to spiders! Like Spiderman, Stiles!”

“I know,” says Stiles, putting his hand on his arm, “and I'm right there with you.”

“And you wonder why I thought you two were dating,” says Jackson.

That catches Derek's attention. He looks at Stiles, rolling his eyes, and Scott, frowning, and then, of course, feels Lydia's stare.

Allison comes closer to the group. “Scott...”

“Well, someone has to do that anyway, right?” reasons Scott.

“It's too risky,” says Derek. “What else can we do?”

“Turn this spider to a giant one, attach a note to it with our whereabouts and make it attack Hogwarts,” suggests Stiles.

“That's mixing spells. We don't know how they would interfere with each other,” replies Lydia. “Also, it's so inelegant.”

“Not to mention there's animal suffering,” says Allison.

“This is potential human suffering versus potential animal suffering,” replies Derek.

“I don't see the problem,” says Scott. “Boyd did this spell once already and he's fine, right?”

“Yes, but what if something goes really wrong?”

“Actually, I can use Incarcerous to subdue Scott,” says Erica. “I, um. I forgot about this spell.”

“I don't like this,” says Stiles. “Lyds?”

Lydia doesn't reply.

“We don't have much choice,” starts Derek. “But that doesn't mean any one of us has to risk this much.”

“Risk landing at St Mungo's, for example,” clarifies Boyd.

“It's not that easy to be admitted to St Mungo's, though,” says Derek. “It's a big hospital but they don't have many in-patients, those are rare cases. Usually, people can figure something out, learn to live with their curse and so on.” He realizes the others are staring at him and shrugs. “Just a... fun fact.”

Even Boyd has a hard time not cringing.

Derek turns to Lydia, tired. “You understand escaping other people now?”

“Yes,” replies Lydia, ruthless.

“Look, I already did the spell once myself,” says Boyd. “I don't want to repeat it but...”

“Then don't,” says Scott. “I really want to try it. Also... I don't know how else I could help you guys.”

“You don't have to help us,” replies Allison.

“That's true,” inserts Erica. “You have no obligation here.”

“I want to,” says Scott, simple and earnest.

“If anything happens — I'll figure something out,” says Stiles. “I promise.”

Scott nods. “I know. I trust you guys.”

“Just — don't hold it against me if you do end up at St Mungo's,” says Boyd.

Scott beams at him. “No promises.”

“One more thing,” says Allison. “What are the possible adverse effects?”

“Sensitivity to touch, liking for meat, aloofness,” lists Boyd. “The spell should last about 5 minutes.”

Scott considers the words. “That doesn't sound that bad.”

“It really does,” says Stiles.

Allison hugs Scott. “I'm counting on you if anything's off,” she says to Erica, who nods.

Boyd raises his hand.

“Lower your wand,” says Derek. “You never direct a spell at someone's head unless the spell tells you to. Point at his stomach or chest. You lower the risk of degrading his mind this way.”

“How come you know that stuff?” asks Jackson. “You want to work at St Mungo's or what?”

Derek can't hold back a grimace. “I'd have to work with people all the time, no way.”

“Then why?”

“He doesn't have to answer,” says Stiles.

“It's weird. And suspicious.”

“Or personal,” says Stiles.

“My last name is Hale,” says Derek, looking at Jackson. “That's why.”

Jackson stares at him, frowning, before remembering the name. “So not everyone in your-”

“No,” Derek cuts him off. “And I'd rather not talk about it.”

“So it was personal, huh,” says Stiles.

“You don't know? There was the Hale fire-”

“Why are you telling me?” asks Stiles, incredulous. “What part of not talking about it don't you understand?”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “I know, so you may know as well.”

“No thanks. It's really not your decision to take.”

Derek looks away. He knows he'll need to tell Stiles about his family — it changed him too much to be ignored. The fire was just a start, leaving only him, Laura, and uncle Peter, the slow spread of the curse, fighting with it, admittance to St Mungo's... but he still needs more time.

Boyd raises his wand again and opens his mouth.

“Wait!” calls Scott. “I need to-”

“What, you got scared?” drawls Jackson. “You, a Gryffindor?”

“Are you seriously trying to manipulate him?” asks Stiles. “That's low. Do you want to take his place?”

“I would never risk my mind for you,” scoffs Jackson.

“You wouldn't even risk that much,” replies Stiles.

“No, guys,” Scott cuts in, “what am I supposed to say?”

“What?”

“What should I say to the spider?”

The group stares at him. Stiles groans, Erica laughs, and Allison sighs.

“Maybe something like, this is a trap, there are humans who can't leave, they need help. Say that to other spiders and try to get help?” suggests Derek, grimacing.

“How can we be sure spiders even want to help humans?” asks Stiles. “Maybe they'd be happy if we all died.”

“Not that it matters right now,” starts Erica, “but I can't believe we don't have ethics classes at Hogwarts. Like, seriously.”

“That's too much information,” says Allison, biting her lip. “Spiders aren't really social, they can communicate but it's not as developed as it could be. Also, they can process information but they do it... slowly. It's too complicated.”

“Just say that there is a danger here and we need help,” says Lydia. “Maybe even simply 'danger here' will suffice.”

“Yeah, that sounds better,” agrees Derek.

Scott nods and Allison hugs him before he goes to stand before Boyd again.

Boyd takes a deep breath and casts the spell.

* * *

Boyd observes Scott. At first, he appears completely still, just looking at the spider. But if he looks closer, Scott is doing all kinds of bizarre, small movements, twitching his fingers, twisting his lips, minutely shifting his body. He seems focused, but also blank, nor entirely there — it's disturbing. The spider suddenly moves, producing a line of silk. Scott moves to touch it and brings the finger to his lips, appearing to taste it.

Boyd risks a glance at Allison but she doesn't seem shocked, although she is pale and the grip on her wand is too tight.

It's strange to think he must have looked like Scott when under the spell. He was alone, chose an isolated spot. Now that he thinks about it, the whole thing was incredibly risky — he was stupid. But that was right after Christmas at his family with all the arguments around his sorting to Hufflepuff, again. He barely talked to other Hufflepuffs for a while, having mixed feelings. He chose this spell because he knew that's what a Ravenclaw would like to know. He needed to show himself that he was good enough for Ravenclaw. It was his decision to be in Hufflepuff and he doesn't regret it. But he could have gone to Ravenclaw.

Scott puts his hand down and the muscles on his face move slightly. The spider turns and gets through the barrier.

“The spider left,” says Boyd.

Scott stares ahead, unseeing.

“Scott?” says Allison softly. “Are you okay?”

Scott takes a breath and hums, sighing. “Fine.”

“What's your name,” demands Stiles.

“Scott McCall.”

“How much is two plus two?”

“I... four?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“Four. Answer,” says Scott slowly. “I think.”

“Who is the president of the US?”

Scott frowns, turning to him. “I don't know.”

“Who's the best quidditch player of all time?” asks Allison.

“Ginny Weasley,” says Scott.

“Something's wrong with him,” says Jackson. “The best quidditch player was obviously Draco Malfoy.”

Scott seems to regain fully his attention to the present. “No way! It was Weasley — she was both a great Chaser and a pretty good Seeker.”

Jackson is ready to continue arguing so Derek steps in. “Okay, I'm sure they were both great in their own right,” he starts, conciliatory. He's heard this kind of discussion too many times.

“Are you sure you're alright, Scott?” asks Erica.

“Yeah. Just... tired, I guess.”

“Come on,” says Allison, tugging him to the side and guiding him down to the grass. She lays his head on her lap.

Erica searches through her bag. “Here,” she says, walking to Scott. “You should eat some chocolate.”

“Oh,” starts Jackson. “I didn't get any after I fell... Casual house discrimination, huh.”

“It had nothing to do with you being a Slytherin but all to do with you being an asshole.”

“You do realize it's your fault we're trapped here.”

“For God's sake, I was joking!” says Erica, rounding up at him. All at once, the atmosphere deteriorates.

“It's never a joke,” replies Jackson. “It's always a test.”

“It was a joke! I'm not a Slytherin, I'm a fucking Hufflepuff! I thought it was obvious that you should leave the ball alone. But you kept chasing it and we were too far away to stop it.”

“You challenged me.”

“I was joking,” repeats Erica. “Jesus. You need to learn to let things go.”

“Is that your team's device, let it go?” drawls Jackson.

“You’re such a dick,” mutters Erica and walks away.

“And what were you even doing there in the first place?” asks Jackson suddenly.

“We stayed after the practice,” says Erica.

“Boyd isn't on the team,” says Jackson and turns to glare at Derek. “What kind of captain are you? He'd be a perfect Beater.”

Derek shrugs. “He doesn't like rivalry.”

Jackson looks at Boyd, incredulous.

“Quidditch is fun as a hobby and hobby only,” explains Boyd. “I have no intention of spending more time on it.”

Jackson stares at him, visibly trying to understand and failing. He turns away, deflating. “You make no sense.”

Erica shrugs. “You make no sense either.”

Stiles is the first to break the silence. “We should think of a better reason for coming to the Forbidden Forest than chasing a ball.”

Jackson glares at him.

“Just saying.”

Boyd sits down next to Erica, who leans against him.

“Oh, are you two a thing?” asks Stiles, curious.

“Do you want me to ask the same about you and Derek?” asks Boyd.

“...no,” admits Stiles. His fingers beat an off-rhythm on his robe. “So... I'm going to assume you aren't dating but you see a chance to redefine your relationship.”

“Is that how it is between you and Derek?”

Stiles won't blush. “I'm talking about you and Erica.”

“If you keep this up, you won't be able to talk about anything.”

Stiles knows how to choose his battles. He tactfully retreats and turns to Erica. “You were born in a Muggle family, right? I could tell from the way you speak.”

Erica sighs but gives him a smile. “Yup.” She answers his high-five and adds, “And I'm never coming back there.”

Stiles' smile tenses on his face. He turns away, feeling awkward. Erica seemed at ease sharing that information but Stiles has no idea how to react. He's lucky enough to have his dad, who may not understand much about Hogwarts, but still let Stiles go, recognizing how excited Stiles was about the opportunity.

He's relieved from replying by Lydia.

“So what are we doing now? We have discovered the hole in the barrier. That gives us more possibilities.”

“It's not a hole,” Jackson reminds her. “The barrier still works there, it's just weaker. You can still feel resistance when moving through. Actually, we can start unweaving the spell.”

“That could take hours,” says Stiles.

“All the better to start now,” replies Jackson, taking out his wand.

“I'd help you but I don't want to risk using my wand now,” says Lydia.

“We can help,” says Erica, glancing at Boyd, who nods. “Anyway, there's this spell to make you smaller, right?”

“It's too risky. We can keep it in mind but we're not desperate enough for it just yet,” says Derek.

“Yeah, potions are usually considered to be safer,” muses Stiles. “What?”

“There's a potion to make you smaller, too,” says Derek.

“Yeah, Shrinking Potion. But it takes a few hours and we don't have ingredients.”

“The greenhouse isn't that far from here,” says Erica. “We can try to Accio some of them and prepare them here.”

“Isn't the greenhouse closed?” asks Stiles.

“Yeah, theoretically,” says Erica. “Like the library's Restricted Section is restricted.” At Stiles' look, she says, “There are many spells to keep something out of reach. If the professors chose to use weaker magic, that itself tells you something.”

“I agree,” says Boyd. “Yeah, there is some weird stuff in the library but it also offers great knowledge. If anyone's interested, they won't really have a problem getting there. This rule is more of a warning than a real prohibition.”

“I like that justification,” says Stiles. “May use it sometime.”

“Don't mention me, though,” says Boyd.

“You'll be my anonymous source,” decides Stiles. “Anyway, you think the greenhouse works in the same way? No, it doesn't matter. We're trapped. We have the right to look for unorthodox ways to get free.” Stiles goes through the list of ingredients in his mind. “There must be some caterpillars here, but what about leech juice and rat spleen?”

“Stiles,” starts Erica, “we're in the Forbidden Forest. We just need to catch those and prepare them.”

“Yes, it will be only disgusting,” says Boyd casually.

“I'll help you with the potion,” says Lydia.

Stiles blinks at her. “I thought I'll be working with Derek.”

Lydia raises her eyebrows.

“I mean, we have more experience.”

“Oh,” says Boyd lightly, “you have more experience?”

“I'm just saying — we have Potions together. We work well together.”

“Tell us more about the things you do well together, Stiles,” says Erica. She would look politely interested if it wasn't for the glint in her eyes.

“Oh, God. Just get me daisy roots for the potion, if you will,” utters Stiles.

“They will,” assures Lydia. “In the meantime, you two should, ah, prepare.”

“Really, Lyds?” says Stiles, betrayed. “I hate you.”

“It's too much fun,” she explains, unapologetic.

“And you!” Stiles rounds up to Derek. “Say something!”

Derek shrugs. “Erica and Boyd had the right to needle you with the questions after you've done the same.”

“That's not what a good boyfriend would say.”

Derek stares at him. “I wasn't aware I was a boyfriend.”

“Merlin,” groans Jackson. “I thought we were trapped in the middle of the Forbidden Forest like in some second rate horror, not watching a bad rom-com.”

“It's slow-burn, too, so I'd say it's more of a soap opera,” says Erica.

“Daisy roots,” repeats Stiles, his face burning. “Now.”

* * *

“We should all go to the Diagon Alley,” says Lydia suddenly, waking Jackson next to her. They are all tired by now, sleepy. “I need to repair my wand... or find a new one.”

“All right,” agrees Derek immediately. It's a good excuse to meet Stiles but Lydia just gives him a somewhat pitying glance.

“Yeah, sure,” says Stiles.

Lydia sighs.

Jackson makes a face. “I don't particularly want to meet up with... Fine,” he relents under Lydia's gaze.

Erica turns to Boyd who shrugs. “Why not?” she says.

“You look different,” says Lydia, regarding Erica. “I mean, there's something different about your face. I can't describe what exactly but...”

“Ah, shit.” Erica sighs. “I forgot to refresh my charms.”

“You've been wearing charms all this time?”

“I always do.”

Lydia narrows her eyes. “I've never noticed.”

“Yeah, well, that's the point.”

“Show me.”

Erica shrugs. “It's not like I have anything better to do.” She takes out her wand and gets comfortable, as possible as it is, leaning against a tree. “So the first thing is to figure out your goal. Now, if we were to be found, we'd want to lower the punishment, and it may help to look more vulnerable and innocent.”

Lydia looks at her, surprised. “That's deception, isn't it? I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to value the truth.”

“I don't do that for pleasure. I don't like influencing people like that. But everyone already treats me like another weak, poor Hufflepuff girl so I may as well use it.”

Lydia is about to say something when Stiles sighs heavily. “Welp, it's done.” He looks at the acid green Shrinking Potion, then turns to Derek. “It was a pleasure working with you, Captain Hale.”

Derek huffs out a laugh and looks at Stiles from under his lashes. “The pleasure is all mine.”

They shake hands; the touch lingers.

“They aren't doing anything, not really, and yet it makes me so uncomfortable,” says Jackson, staring at them. “Like, they have this atmosphere.”

Stiles raises the potion threateningly. “You want to try this shit?”

“I do,” says Scott.

Stiles drops his hand. “Oh my god.”

“Scott, you've already helped once,” says Lydia. “It's enough.”

“Well, someone will have to do this sooner or later,” reasons Scott. “And I think it'll be fun. It makes you small, right? It's exciting!”

“Was talking to spiders fun and exciting, then?” asks Boyd flatly.

Scott loses some enthusiasm. “No. But this doesn't work on the mind, just on the body.”

“Theoretically,” says Stiles. “We can't be sure how it's going to work.”

“I trust you,” states Scott.

“But I don't trust myself!”

“You guys said that elixirs are safer than spells, so I'll be fine.”

“It doesn't work like that, Scott,” says Allison.

“Well, the chances of something going wrong are lower,” says Lydia.

“But if something goes wrong, it goes horribly wrong,” says Derek.

“So it's fine,” repeats Scott.

“No, it's not!”

“This really makes you think about the Gryffindor complex,” muses Erica. “Hero complex.”

Jackson shrugs. “Why are we stopping him, anyway? Let him sacrifice himself, I mean, that's only convenient for us.”

“See?” cries Stiles, turning to Scott. “That's reason enough not to do it!”

“Scott,” starts Allison, “you know that I won't stop you. Whatever you decide, it's your decision. Just — think about it. You don't have to do this. Please.”

Scott regards her for a while. “Thank you. But I still want to do this. I know this looks stupid to you, or thoughtless — but we have to do something, don't we? And out of everyone here, I'm the best person to try this way. No offense.”

“Only some taken,” says Jackson.

“Okay, but... Providing you, or someone else, drinks this elixir,” starts Erica, “what then? You leave, and what? You're not trapped anymore, just lost in the Forbidden Forest and stuck in a too-small body.”

“We could Diminuendo one of the brooms so that Scott can fly on it,” suggests Lydia.

“I hate to admit it, but it doesn't seem like we have any better idea,” says Derek. “That still doesn't mean you have to do this, Scott.”

“I'm good,” replies Scott, straightening. “I'm ready.”

“Any fun facts?” asks Jackson, turning to Derek.

“He's not your encyclopaedia,” shoots Stiles, defensive.

Derek sighs but turns to Scott. “Drink slowly,” he advises. “Give it a bit of time, the change will be confusing at first. Maybe Allison could give you the broom and take you through the barrier.”

“All right,” says Scott, bringing the potion to his lips. “Here it goes.”

* * *

“Again!” cheer the Gryffindors.

Stiles is getting tired of how noisy and full of energy they are, but they were the ones to provide the beer and all the food. Gryffindors get oddly creative when bending the rules for food and parties is involved.

“So I totally got small,” says Scott, grinning, “like, as big as a palm.

Erica turned the broom smaller for me but it was still a bit too big, awkward to fly. I flew up to try and find Hogwarts... But couldn't see anything.” Scott pauses, dramatic — it makes Derek, sitting next to Stiles, smile. “The height really changes your perspective, you know? I couldn't figure out where I was, where to go. So I flew back down to try to find the rest of the guys so they'd help me or something but I couldn't find even them! I was just circling over the Forest, looking for the signs of humans. And suddenly, I saw something. But it wasn't human.”

Someone gasps and Stiles rolls his eyes. He notices Jackson doing the same and is so offended at the idea of any similarity between them that a chocolate frog manages to jump out of his hand. Derek catches it in the air and gives back to Stiles, and Stiles is just... gone. Utterly done. Something must show on his face because Derek looks at him, their hands touching, the time seems to stop-

“It was a centaur,” says Scott and the Gryffindors make all kinds of noises, breaking the moment. “And he saw me. Pretty cool guy,” says Scott, considering. “Although a bit odd. He knew something was going on because of the spiders — and who knew the spider spell? Boyd!”

Everyone turns to Boyd, cheering on him and giving a round of applause. Someone gives him more beer that Boyd obediently drinks.

“So here I am, flying on a broom next to Firenze's ear and asking him to take me to Hagrid. We went to the castle to find Professor McGonagall but met Slughorn on our way so all four of us went to the Forest. Still, finding the exact spot wasn't easy... I guess Derek's escaping attention spell worked!”

Now Derek's in the centre of attention, the Gryffindors whooping around him.

“By the time we found the rest of the guys, I was normal height again. The timing was perfect, Stiles!”

“That wasn't my doing, that's just how long the Shrinking Potion works,” says Stiles but is drowned out by cheering Gryffindors. Someone pushes more chocolate frogs at him. “Oh, that's nice, I can make more potions.”

“Earlier, we were wondering what to say once found. And it was awesome,” says Scott, grinning. “I mean, some suggested just telling the truth...”

There is booing and Erica shakes her head, incredulous. She, Boyd and Allison wanted to tell the truth if found by the right people. Who was 'right' was also discussed.

“But Lydia decided that we should pretend that we've heard the howling and finally decided to find out if it's true that there are werewolves in the Forbidden Forest. Which made us sound like stupid teenagers on a dare-”

“Which was the truth,” says Erica.

“But Lydia said that the moral responsibility will have to be borne by people who allowed the spread of the rumour — the professors.”

Stiles can almost feel the wave of respect directed at Lydia. She gets applauded for the idea.

“And then Erica gave her best performance. She really convinced us that's exactly what happened.”

“Yeah,” drawls Erica, grinning, taking in all the attention, “I was good.”

“She was so good that something weird happened. Slughorn just — broke down. He had a complete meltdown, started apologizing. It turned out the spell trapping us was his doing, except he's never meant for any students to get caught up. He just wanted to get more ingredients for his potions.”

“Yeah, I actually felt bad for him,” says Erica, “so I told Professor McGonagall the truth.”

In the silence that follows Erica is once again the centre of attention.

“What?” says Scott dumbly.

“Well, she obviously didn't believe us so she invited me to her office earlier. I told her the truth. It's not like she would have accepted anything else,” she explains. “Also, I really felt bad for Slughorn. Oh right,” Erica grins suddenly, self-satisfied. “We may have a new class next year. Ethics. No need to thank me.”

“No one was going to,” says Jackson.

“I think it will be interesting,” argues Allison.

“I actually agree with Jackson,” says Scott. “By the way, if it wasn't for Jackson, we'd still be trapped. He was the one who found the place where the barrier was weaker and started unfolding the spell.”

The Gryffindors drink to his name. Someone gives Jackson Bertie Bett's Every Flavour Beans which he puts away immediately.

“It was also his idea to have a party at Gryffindor,” says Stiles pointedly.

“Well, why did you listen to me?” complains Jackson.

“I suppose we can leave now,” says Lydia. “Stiles, you have our permission to date Derek.”

“Wha- I don't need your permission!”

“Obviously,” agrees Lydia, “but you wanted it. Derek, I'm keeping an eye on you.”

“Yeah, well...” Derek looks around and frowns. “If Erica and Boyd hadn't sneaked out already, they'd say the same to you. Probably.”

“But still!” says Scott. “The one who was the best was Allison! She totally saved us all from the wolf.”

Stiles can't hear his thoughts over the noise at this point. Allison was impressive, it's true — it turned out they haven't killed a wolf... but it wasn't exactly a werewolf, either. It had no human form, only a wolf one, but was much stronger compared to a normal wolf. Stiles heard some muttering about a guy called Lupus, who was supposedly involved.

He turns to Derek and they silently agree to get out.

Derek mutters something, moving his wand surreptitiously and suddenly confetti appears around them, further exciting the Gryffindors and turning their attention away.

Stiles and Derek shrink away, soon climbing out of the Fat Lady's portrait.

“I think I've heard something about fireworks,” says Stiles.

Derek looks at him, startled. “Now I'm worried about them,” he admits. “Should we go back, just to make sure they're okay?”

“Allison's with them, they'll be fine,” dismisses Stiles, walking with purpose.

Derek goes after him. “You have somewhere you want to be?”

Stiles turns to him with a smirk. “I have a date.”

Derek huffs out a laugh, remembering it's Friday night. There's an odd feeling in his stomach as he follows Stiles. They seem to be alone, it's quiet and dark around.

Stiles spins to the corridor leading to the library and Derek comes with, turning the corner. He almost walks into Stiles, who is now standing still, waiting for him — all at once they end up oddly close to each other.

Stiles opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He licks his lips nervously and tries again. “Tell me — tell me it's okay,” he says quietly and moves even closer, enough for his lips to almost touch Derek's. At first, both are still, uncertain, wavering, but then Derek presses this inch more.

The kiss is short and sweet but Stiles still feels as if he ran a marathon.

Derek stares at him, his eyes too green. “I promise I'll try to be a good boyfriend,” he says suddenly.

Stiles grins. “Finally caught up, huh,” he teases, as if confident.

Derek rolls his eyes and takes a breath, ready to argue, but Stiles pulls him closer for another kiss.

There's no hesitation this time. Derek goes with him willingly.

#bloodspeckledraphael #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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