#if I may. doc ‘no we aren’t telling anyone what happened. it’s not a threat to them anyways and this isn’t the first time I’ve replaced this

[shepscapades]

GLAD EVERYONE ENJOYED THE ANDROID INFO UPDATE ABOUT INTERFACING DFGJNDGKGNMXGHNCBNM

[storiesforallfandoms]

what are we going to do? ~ 10k;z nation

word count: 2250

request?: no

description: it’s hard to take precautions during a zombie apocalypse, and when these lack of precautions catches up with a young couple, they have to decide what the best option is going to be

pairing: 10k x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

“Can we find some fucking transportation now?” Murphy groaned as he trailed behind the group. “My legs are killing me.”

“Oh, the poor baby,” Doc teased. “If you haven’t noticed, we haven’t seen any vehicles for miles! Do you expect one to magically show up?”

“I hate to agree with Murphy, but I need to stop, too,” (Y/N) sighed. “This heat is starting to get to me.”

10k wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her tightly to him as she began to sway. “Let’s find some shade.”

The group threw their things to the ground as (Y/N) and Murphy slumped under the shade of a nearby tree. Warren unhooked the water bottle she was carrying from her bag and passed it around the group. There was very little left, so everyone had to take a small mouthful.

When the bottle came to (Y/N), she meant to take just a small mouthful, but the moment the cold liquid touched her lips she couldn’t help but finish the rest of the bottle. Everyone yelled in protest, but she didn’t stop until the bottle was ripped out of her hands by Murphy.

“Hey kid! That’s supposed to be for sharing!” he snapped. “We don’t know when we’ll find more water.”

(Y/N) meant to apologize, to say she didn’t know what had come over her. Since the beginning, (Y/N) had been the one to insist that they ration out their food. At times, she ate and drank less than the others in order to save the food they had. She wasn’t one to be greedy with their rations.

But the moment she opened her mouth to apologize, she felt her stomach lurch. She quickly stood and moved so she was a fair ways away from the group before she doubled over and began to throw up. She heard her friends make noises in disgust before feeling 10k’s gentle hands on her, pulling her hair from her face with one as the other soothingly rubbed her back.

“What’s wrong with her?” Murphy asked. “She’s not sick, is she? We can’t afford for any of us to get sick, I can’t give all of you my blood.”

“Shut up, Murphy!” Addy hissed. “It’s probably sun stroke, we’ve been walking for so long and it’s been so hot. We haven’t had rain in days.”

10k guided (Y/N) to sit down and continued to gently rub her back. She looked up at him and gave him a half smile, trying to push down the nauseated feeling that was growing in her stomach again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah, just a weird feeling in my stomach,” she responded. “That’s why I drank all that water, my stomach has been off for a while. Probably sun stroke, like Addy said.”

The sound of footsteps caused 10k to look over his shoulder suddenly. Warren put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just me, kid. Mind if I look at your girl?”

10k nodded. If there were anyone he trusted in these crazy times, it was Warren.

He stood and allowed Warren to kneel next to (Y/N). Warren looked into her tired eyes and inspected her face. She leaned forward close enough that a whisper would only be heard by (Y/N).

“When was the last time you had your period?”

(Y/N) felt her heart race. It had been months since her last period, at least two months for sure. She had shrugged it off as nothing, it was hard to tell what was normal and what was abnormal anymore. She hadn’t thought anything of it until she started feeling nauseated, something she managed to hold back until the night times. It was why she was so tired, she had been so sick that she hadn’t been sleeping.

(Y/N) glanced up at 10k, who had a look of concern written across his face. How did she break this news to him? How did she break it to any of them?

The look on her face was enough of an answer for Warren. “How long have you known?”

“I haven’t,” she responded. “I didn’t think anything of it...I just thought...I thought...”

Warren sat back, holding (Y/N)’s hand in her own. “Does your boy here know?”

10k looked between them, confused. He began to think the worst, that maybe (Y/N) had been bitten and no one knew, or that she was suddenly sick and wouldn’t be able to beat the sickness.

Tears were welling up in her eyes as she looked up at 10k. He felt his concern grow then. (Y/N) looked at Warren to ask, “Can you guys give us a moment alone?”

Warren smiled at her and nodded before standing. 10k quickly took her place next to (Y/N) as Warren called the others to leave. (Y/N) couldn’t look at him, instead she kept looking down at the ground in front of her.

“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” 10k asked. “Are you okay?”

Tears stung (Y/N)’s eyes as she looked at the ground. She shook her head, trying to will the words from her mouth. “Tommy, I’m...I’m pregnant.”

The news caught him off guard. He faltered a little, sitting back on his legs as he looked off into the distance as well.

On any normal occasion, this news would’ve excited 10k. His whole life he had wanted to be a father, to be as good as his own father. But that was before; before the apocalypse, before the constant threat of Zs, before it was dangerous to carry around a screaming, crying baby.

“Are you sure?” he asked her.

(Y/N) winced at 10k’s tone of voice. Although she had been expecting that reaction, part of her had hoped that maybe he wouldn’t sound as worried. She hoped that maybe, for once since the apocalypse happened, that they could enjoy a happy moment that any normal couple would celebrate.

“If it’s not pregnancy, then there’s something else we should be concerned about because I haven’t had my period in a while and now I’m getting sick.”

10k ran his hands through his hair. “What are we gonna do?”

He hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud, and he felt after seeing (Y/N) flinch at the question.

“What can we do?” she asked. “I have to have the baby, there’s no safe way to...to get rid of it without the risks.”

“But...do we keep it?”

(Y/N) couldn’t suppress her second flinch. She knew it was the right question to ask, raising a baby in these crazy times wasn’t easy. They had witnessed that first hand when Murphy tried to have his baby girl.

But would she be able to give the baby up? Would she be able to leave a seconds old, defenseless baby on its own, waiting to be killed by a hoard of Zs before it could even live? Would she be able to give her baby to someone she didn’t know and continue her life knowing that her child may or may not be out there, that they may or may not be alive or dead or a Z?

(Y/N) covered her face with her hands and began to cry. 10k wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

“I’ve always wanted to have kids,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “I was hoping that, once we get Murphy to California and we find the cure, that maybe that would be a possibility. But...the longer it takes for us to find where we’re going, and the longer it takes to find anyone who really knows what to do...it feels like the cure will never come. And now this...”

10k soothingly shushed her and ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s alright. We’ll figure out what to do.”

~~~~~~

They decided not to tell the rest of the group, not until they made a decision regarding the baby. Whatever the decision, (Y/N) knew she’d have to divert from the group when it came time to give birth. She couldn’t risk them like that, no matter what they told her.

That night, the group set up camp in an area tucked away by trees. Warren littered the surrounding ground with anything that would make noise and alert them of someone, or some Zs, arriving.

Like most nights, (Y/N) was awake, except this time she was awake with the worry of her future decisions. Although it seemed as though the decision should be an easy one to make, she was still conflicted. The decision was easy, but was it the right one?

Afraid of waking 10k, (Y/N) sneaked out of her tent and went to sit in a nearby tree. Growing up near the woods, she always found that sitting in trees calmed her down. Being one with nature and all that cliche stuff.

She started when she heard the sound of leaves rustling below her. She slowly moved to pull her knife from her shoe, ready to attack whoever or whatever was approaching, but stopped when she saw the familiar lanky figure of her boyfriend pulling himself up onto the branch below her.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” she asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said as he struggled to pull himself onto the her branch. (Y/N) giggled and helped him up, taking hold of him to steady his balance. “You sitting in a tree is how we first met.”

(Y/N) covered her face and slightly groaned. “You have to let that go. You were a stranger and I was all alone, I had to be careful.”

“I don’t hold anything against you for attacking me, I just think it’s a funny story,” 10k responded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “She dropped from a tree brandishing an knife, threatened to cut me open unless I told her what I wanted. That’s how I knew I loved her.”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned forward to kiss 10k. His kisses were always gentle, as if he were worried about hurting (Y/N). Of course, there was no need for that worry. (Y/N) was probably one of the toughest in the whole group. She had been fending for herself for years after the apocalypse started, you had to be tough in those sorts of situations.

“It would be a story for our children if we - ” she started as she pulled away. Her words cut off abruptly as she realized what she was saying. “I mean...fuck, forget that. That was...old habit.”

10k took (Y/N)’s hands in his, running his thumbs over her knuckles. “Tell me the truth, (Y/N), do you want to keep this baby? Even with the threats, do you want to have a family with me?”

Tears started pricking (Y/N)’s eyes again as he asked the question. She looked away from him, not wanting him to see her cry again.

Stupid pregnancy hormones. They’re gonna make you soft.

“Yes,” she responded. “Yes, I want to have this baby, and yes, I want to have a family with you. I’ve always wanted to have a family, a small one if nothing else, and I even dreamed that, if we could find the cure to Zs, that I would be able to have that. I know that it’s reckless, and I know this puts us in danger, but fuck, Tommy, I wanna raise this baby with you.”

Tears were starting to form in 10k’s eyes as well, but he quickly blinked them away as he cupped (Y/N)’s face. “I wanna have this baby, too.”

The words shocked (Y/N). She looked up at her boyfriend in disbelief. “You...you do?”

He nodded. “I also know it’s dangerous, and I know we’ll have a lot of talking to do with the group, but I don’t think I can give this baby up. Our perfect little thing that we made...I’d never be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”

(Y/N) threw her arms around 10k’s neck, almost pushing the both of them out of the tree. They laughed together as 10k hugged her back, holding her tightly to him. He didn’t want to let her go. The safest place for her to be for the next nine months was in his arms.

“I want a baby girl,” he admitted. “A little daddy’s girl that I can be overprotective of. I’ll even teach her how to shoot my gun when she’s old enough.”

“Hopefully she won’t have to do that when she’s old enough,” (Y/N) responded. “But...but I think it will be a girl. My mom always said that she had strange dreams about a little girl when she was pregnant with me, and a few nights back I had this dream that a little girl saved us from the apocalypse, but I couldn’t understand what it meant.”

10k chuckled as he put his hand on (Y/N)’s stomach. “That’s a lot of pressure mama’s trying to put on you already. Don’t worry, we’ll save the world before you come out.”

(Y/N) placed one hand over 10k’s and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

He smiled brightly as he kissed her back. “I love you more, (Y/N).”

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 16 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/GENE PAGE

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: When the reader arrives back home, they have to face Negan, but first, they need to tell the others what happened with Alpha. When they find out that Daryl is about to step into the fire what will happen and how will Negan and the reader get past his escape?

Word Count: 2981

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Falling” by Harry Styles

Note: I wanted to make this part focused on conversation and have a breather after all the action. More to come.

-------

The walls of Alexandria greeted you late in the afternoon. 

The entire ride home you had been paranoid that any Walker was one of Alpha’s people. The original fears from the start of the Apocalypse were returning. A lone Walker or even a few hadn’t given you the sense of fear like this since those first few months. However, now, the Living threat moved with the Dead and there were new rules to play by.

At least, that is what you felt this was. A cruel game. After Terminus, after the Wolves, and even after the Saviors, you didn’t think people could get worse. How naïve you and the rest of your family had been.

As your horse swayed beneath you, your hands gripped the reins tightly as Alpha’s face remained at the forefront of your mind.

There was something so feral yet powerful about the woman. You could also tell that she was the product of the new world and based on what Lydia had told you, Henry, and Daryl, her mother hadn’t always been this way. You only hoped that whatever Daryl was about to do didn’t unleash even more of the terror that you were sure was hidden beneath her stoic features.

Siddiq was the one that met you as the gate opened. He took the reins of your horse and led him to the stables, not saying a word as you finally relaxed when the gate shut securely behind you. 

“Here,” Siddiq said quietly as he reached for your arm to help you down off the horse. You gripped his shoulder as your feet hit the ground and then he was pulling you into him. “I’m so sorry about Jesus,” he said and you gripped him back, trying to keep your emotions in check. 

“Thanks, Doc,” you said as you gave him a final squeeze before letting go. Stepping back, you looked up at him and then noticed something else in his eyes. Something that wasn’t just sympathy. “What else happened?” He took a breath and then smiled slightly.

“Rosita’s pregnant,” he said proudly and that was the last thing you had expected to come out of his mouth. 

“And it’s….it’s yours?” you asked, carefully. 

“Yeah, it is,” he said with a wider smile. You couldn’t help the wave of emotion that overtook you then. Even with all the sorrow, this was something to celebrate. 

“I am so happy for you,” you said and you meant it. “Look at you, a dad.” You punched him in the shoulder lightly. 

“Thanks,” he said and you could tell he wanted to be even more excited, but after what had happened, nobody was feeling very gleeful. Instead, you focused on the task at hand. 

“We need to talk. All of us,” you said with a heavy sigh, “we are not even remotely done with these people.” Siddiq understood immediately. 

“I’ll call for a council meeting,” he said. “Did you want to and talk to…” he began, but you shook your head. 

“No, just call the meeting. Negan can wait.”

---------

“They’re back,” a quiet voice said in the dark. 

Negan slowly opened his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t been able to since Michonne returned and told him what had happened and asked him if he had ever heard of people walking with the Dead while wearing their skins. He hadn’t, but he wasn’t surprised that they were out there. The new world changed people in the most extreme ways. 

Michonne hadn’t stayed long, but he could tell the new threat was getting to her. It was rare when he saw the woman rocked and he didn’t have a good feeling about what was to come. 

Turning over on his cot, Negan looked at Judith who had just returned to the cell. Judith folded herself onto the floor as she had hours before. She had been doing so since he got back, only leaving to see her mom and sleep. Whether Michonne knew or not, she never told her to leave. 

“Do they look angry?” Negan asked.

“They look tired,” Judith said softly. “I think something else bad happened.” Negan furrowed his brow as he sat up. 

“Why do you say that?”

“Siddiq just called a council meeting. They only do that when something bad happened,” Judith said.

“They called a council meeting once because Eugene tried to make a catapult,” Negan reminded her. 

“This one feels different,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “Before I came down here, I heard (Y/N) say that Uncle Daryl was afraid. He’s not afraid of anything.” Negan frowned at that. He knew Daryl enough to know that he rarely showed fear in the face of danger. 

“Your uncle is strong, kid,” he told her, trying to reassure her. “He’s been through worse.” Judith, however, wasn’t convinced. She leaned in more towards the bars, removing her hat so he could see her better. 

“Negan,” she whispered, “I’m scared.” He didn’t hesitate then. Negan moved towards the bars and crouched down to her level. He reached for her hands and she held onto them tight. 

“You listen to me, kid,” he said, “no matter what happens, nobody will hurt you. Do you understand me? I won’t let them hurt you. Besides, you are a survivor, and dammit, you’re a Grimes. To these new freaks that may not mean somethin’, but to me and to everyone else in your family, that means a lot.”

“Does it?” she asked in a small voice.

“Hell yeah it does,” he assured her. “You, your mom, and that little boy upstairs are what’s left of this badass family I met seven years ago and you know what I learned after knowin’ your daddy and big brother?”

“What?”

“Nobody goes against a Grimes and wins.”

--------

As soon as you finished explaining what had happened at Hilltop, the meeting hall was silent. 

“I don’t know what Henry ended up saying to her, but it got the kid to open up,” you explained. “I think that she could be valuable.”

“For what?” Aaron asked. “You saw those freaks the same night I did, (Y/N). You know how ruthless they are. They aren’t going to back down for one girl.”

“Lydia is Alpha’s child, Aaron,” you said. “Whether the woman is capable of compassion or not, that means something to her. I don’t think she would have openly exposed herself like that if it didn’t.”

“And that’s why Daryl went after her? For leverage?” Rosita asked. You noticed that her hand was placed protectively on her abdomen. You didn’t think she realized she was doing it. 

“I think it’s more about protecting her,” you said with a sigh. “The girl’s been abused.”

“She also killed Jesus,” Aaron argued. 

“No, her people did. Lydia didn’t kill anyone,” you countered. 

“As far as you know…” 

“Look all I know is that Daryl is about to declare war and we need to be ready,” you said. Looking around at the faces in the room, you could see that a wave of fear was being passed from person to person. These...Whisperers, as Eugene called them, were something out of a nightmare and that was saying something considering everyone had been living in a horror film for a decade. 

“Negan didn’t know them,” Michonne interjected, gaining your attention. You nodded.

“I figured as much,” you sighed. “I don’t think anyone would have known them. I think that this is their first time showing themselves to people that they weren’t immediately going to kill afterward.”

“Looks like we’re all going in blind on this,” Michonne said. 

“It’s new territory, that’s for sure,” you said, leaning against the wooden column at your back. 

“What’s your take on all of this?” Gabriel asked you. 

“I think they are more dangerous than we think,” you said. “We’ve fought villains before, but this is the first time when I can’t see how this is going to go. Guns and armies are one thing, even those freaks at Terminus made some kind of sense in my mind. But this? This is absolute insanity and I’m positive that we haven’t seen the last of Alpha or her people.”

“Why didn’t you go with Daryl?” Aaron asked. 

“I was needed back here,” you said.

“For Negan?” Aaron asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Yes, Aaron, instead of informing my family that there are masked psychos after us, I ran all the way back here to check on escaped convict number one,” you spat, gathering your things and gripping your sword tighter. “Fuck off.” 

Nobody said anything as you stormed from the hall. 

“Nice,” Michonne said with a smack to the back of Aaron’s head. 

You headed for home, still boiling with anger. You knew that Aaron was angry with you about everything with Negan no matter what he said. He blamed Negan for Eric and while you understood, you just wished that he would remember that Negan wasn’t the one to kill his boyfriend. Eric tragically died in the war, but so did a lot of people. 

Pausing in the middle of the road, you couldn’t believe that that thought crossed your mind. You were invalidating Aaron’s grief because of your own emotions and feelings and you hated the way it made you feel. “Get yourself together,” you whispered to yourself. 

Continuing on towards your house, you passed by the Grimes house when a small voice reached your ears.

“You always tell me to be honest!” Judith’s yell came from the cell beneath her house. She sounded frustrated which had you moving closer. 

“You’re the kid, I’m the adult,” Negan said back. Hearing his voice offered you both comfort and stoked that anger in your gut. You wanted to throttle him and hug him at the same time. Your feet were moving before you could even stop them and the next thing you knew you were pushing open the heavy door of the jail. You were met with silence. 

“Get out, Judith,” you ordered. The young girl looked up at you from her spot on the ground. Her hat was in her hands and she looked as if she had been there for a while. 

“No,” she said, “you’re gonna yell at him.” The girl was too smart for her own good, you thought. You still avoided looking at Negan, but you could feel his eyes on you. 

“I’m gonna yell at both of you if you don’t get out,” you said. “Your mom is gonna wanna talk to you.”

“Is this about what happened to Jesus?” she asked, getting to her feet. 

“Yes, now go.” Judith hesitated. “Judith, right now.” With a sigh, she placed her hat on her head and sulked as she walked from the room. With one last look at Negan, she stormed out and ran up the steps. 

“You shouldn’t be angry with her,” Negan said, finally speaking directly to you. You paused and then let your bag drop from your hands. Dust flew from where it thumped to the cold floor and then you were turning to finally look at him. That light was in his eyes again, the one that was only reserved for you. 

Normally, it would give you so much joy, but it only fueled your fire. However, you kept your temper under control. “Are you sure you don’t know anything about these Whisperers?” you asked, your voice low. 

“Is that what you seriously want to talk about right now?” he asked, his arms braced on the bars as he gave you an incredulous look. 

“I’m not sure I can talk about anything else without screaming.”

“You’re angry,” he said.

“I’m hurt, Negan,” you corrected. “When Scott showed up and told Daryl and me that you had left, yeah, I was pissed. I couldn’t understand why after everything you would just leave and then I realized something.”

“Which was what?” he asked carefully. 

“That I was so stupid to believe anything that happened between us was real.” Negan stared at you in shock, not expecting that at all. 

“You honestly believe that? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“What else am I supposed to believe!” you shouted. “I am so goddamn stupid! I should have known the second you had the chance, you were going to leave. I just don’t know why you even bothered to come back.”

“Don’t bullshit yourself, (Y/N),” he countered, not letting you be the only one on offense.

“Excuse me?”

“You know damn well why I came back! You just won’t admit it to yourself because you’re afraid!”

“Afraid? Of what? Why don’t you tell me Negan since you seem to know me so well,” you said, crossing your arms.

“That’s the thing, though. I do know you. I know you better than anyone has in a long time. And I’m not talking about where you grew up or how many Walkers you’ve killed. I know you. We are the same and I know that I’m not the only one who has felt that way. You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth and so do you.” 

“You don’t know anything,” you whispered, but your voice was thick with emotion. “I can’t feel like this, don’t you understand?”

“Like what?” 

“Like I am willing to turn my back on my entire family just to keep you safe. Just to make sure that you are still alive when I come home. I shouldn’t be this...this consumed by one person!”

“Why are you acting like the idea of you and me is so fucking terrible?”

“Because everything I touch, I kill and so do you! You say we’re the same, well you’re right, Negan! We are both monsters and all people do is die around us! Rick, Carl, Jesus! If we are the same then I don’t want to be!”

“I’m not going to let you stand there and say that what we feel for each other doesn’t mean anything!”

“Don’t tell me how to feel,” you shot back.

“Then say it, (Y/N),” he said, leaning through the bars. “Say that I mean nothing to you and I’ll stop.” You were silent as you looked at him, fighting the tears behind your eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“You bastard,” you swore. “You left me. After everything that I’ve lost, that you knew about and you left! How am I supposed to react to hearing that you were gone!”

“I came back,” he said softly. 

“And what if you didn’t? Was I just supposed to accept that? Was I just supposed to go on with life not knowing where you were or if you were even alive? What was the plan?” Negan reached for you, but you shook your head, holding your arms tighter against your chest.

“I didn’t think there was a future here if I was locked in a cage.”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you shot back, trying to keep your rage contained. 

“Don’t you?” Negan challenged. 

“I just lost one of my best friends and my other one is hunting down our new enemy’s kid to save her life so no, Negan, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered.

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“I’m not sorry that I left, I’m sorry that you’re hurting.”

“You hurt me,” you told him, wiping at your face. 

“I know and if I could take it back, I would,” he said. 

“I don’t want to be the bad guy here,” you told him. 

“You could never be the villain of my story,” he whispered. The silence was thick in the room and you didn’t know how to respond to him. You hadn’t intended to go off on him like this, you thought you would give it a few days, but hearing his voice….

“I have to figure out how to help Daryl,” you said suddenly with a sniff. Negan frowned as you changed the subject but went along with it. 

“What are you going to do about them?” he asked. 

“We’ll figure it out when Daryl finds the girl. He has to be included in the decision. Tara too. Maggie also if we can reach her, but I don’t know where she is right now,” you whispered, not looking at him. 

“There’s gonna be a fight, isn’t there?” 

“Not if I can help it,” you said, gripping your blade. Negan noticed and he also noticed the steel reserve that seemed to be around you since you walked in. 

“You’re gonna kill them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Cut off the head of the snake and the body dies,” you said looking up at him. He could see the tears marks, the tears he had caused. “No more games. If she comes for us, I will kill her.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you said.

“We both know that’s not true.”

“We don’t know anything anymore.” 

“What are you really trying to say, (Y/N)? That you hate me now?” 

“I will never hate you,” you said, taking a step back. “I told you that before.”

“So what, then?” 

“I just can’t trust you anymore,” you said as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. 

“How do I win that trust back?” he asked, his tone becoming hoarse. 

“I don’t know,” you whispered, turning to go. 

“I’ll do anything!” he called to you. Your hand paused on the door handle and as you closed your eyes you let one more tear fall. 

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“(Y/N)!” he yelled as you left the room, letting the door close behind you as you walked away from him.

As you jogged up the steps, you heard his calls for you to return, but you just kept walking.

TAGS:  : @amaroho​ @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @halszka-potter @yespleasejayhalstead @fmunegan @hoemadegrace  @pulplorrd @writingdead0829 @lucillethings

[krinsbez]

The Heroes, Season Two: The Most Deadly Game

@skjam​, @jcogginsa​, @maxwell-grant​, @anyone else interested...

-The Era: The ‘30s.

-The Location: A jungle island in the Caribbean (I think?)

-The Heroes: Pat Savage; Jane Porter Clayton, Lady Greystoke; Laurence “Larry” Talbot

-The Villains: General Zaroff; The Wolf Man

-The Concept...

Original suggestion by @jcogginsa​...

- General Zaroff, the antagonist of ‘The Most Dangerous  Game’ sinks a cruise ship, which he believes Doc Savage is aboard,  believing that Savage will survive and make it to Zaroff’s island, where  he can hunt him for sport. Unfortunately, he’s misinformed, because the  Savage aboard the ship is actually Patricia Savage, not Clark. She,  along with other pulp heroes who were aboard, then have to deal with  Zaroff. Possibly with the Wolfman and Tarzan involved

Comment by @skjam​:

“Most Dangerous  Game” with Pat Savage?  If you want to make things really tough for  Zaroff, team her up with Jane Clayton, Lady Greystoke.  By the third  Tarzan book, Jane’s the second-best person in the world at jungle  survival.  (She drops back to third once their son reaches his teens.)

Comment by @krinsbez​:

-On Most Dangerous Game: I love the concept, but I can’t buy Gen. Zaroff by himself as being a legitimate threat when Tarzan is involved? (as far as I’m concerned. kidnapping Jane is a form of suicide)

Comment by @jcogginsa​:

Re: Most Dangerous Game, Perhaps Jane was travelling separately from Tarzan for plot related reasons. Alternatively, while Jane manages to escape the Ship due to the place she happened to be in, Tarzan was trapped aboard it. So while She and Pat are dealing with Zaroff and whoever he’s got with him, Tarzan to going through The Poseidon adventure 

Comment by @maxwell-grant​:

Re: Most Dangerous Game. I think Tarzan’s inclusion can actually be a good way to set the pace of the story. He’s not gonna be in the actual roster of characters trapped in Zaroff’s game, because the minute Tarzan meets Zaroff, it’s game over. Instead of making Tarzan a supporting player or main character, we make him to Zaroff what the Crocodile is to Captain Hook.

Maybe Zaroff is either using Jane specifically because he set his sights on the man who most embodies “the most dangerous game” and suicidally thinks he’s a match for Tarzan, or he wants to get rid of Jane as soon as possible because he knows Greystoke is WAY out of his league, and he figures he has to kill her and kill her NOW before Tarzan gets there (he may even consider letting her leave, but then reason that she would eventually tell Tarzan and he’d come after him anyway). His desperation grows as his attempts grow bolder, putting more danger on the characters but also painting a bigger target on his own back as the odds of him being spared a gruesome demise diminish by the second.

Putting somewhat of a role reversal where not only our characters have to deal with being hunted, but our villain hunting them is also dealing with being hunted himself, and he’s either scared shitless or unreasonably excited over it. Maybe both. Having Zaroff as a co-protagonist of sorts I think could be a way to shake up the structure compared to the last season, since he’s very different from Count Satan and a far more dynamic, engaging character. For our heroes, the time is ticking until Zaroff finds them. And for Zaroff, the time is ticking until Tarzan finds him. Will our heroes defeat Zaroff and escape? Will Zaroff kill one or more of them before Tarzan arrives? Will Tarzan arrive in time?

Another note: Zaroff’s casting. I don’t really have too strong of an idea but one that comes to mind is Jemaine Clement, based on his performances as Boris the Animal and particularly Vladislav (genuinely one of my favorite on-screen Draculas). Someone who can play a decadent, aristocratic villain who can be both reasonably intimidating but also humorous and likeable enough for us to even sort of root for him, even as he’s being a dastardly ghoul.

His comedy chops in particular make me think he could do a great job at depicting the gradual mental breakdown of Zaroff as his ego unravels and all his plans fail and he grows all the more desperate to kill the girl and her stupid friends NOW before that damn dirty ape man gets here and ruins everything oh god he’s gonna be here any minute NO, WHAT NONSENSE, I AM THE GRREAT COUNT ZAROFF, I SHOULD BE RRR-RELISHING THE ODDS OF FACING THE GRRREATEST OF BEASTS, BUT OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE WHY WON’T SHE DIE-

Comment by @jcogginsa​:

I definitely think Zaroff would be excited, though I could also see the mixture being a good idea.

One thing I worry about regarding Tarzan’s presence as a looming threat for Zaroff is that it might do a disservice to the leads to have the villain constantly fearing the arrival of a different character. However, I gives me an idea.

Basically, at some point within the season, Zaroff begins receiving updates from his servants, regarding the approach of Tarzan, eventually getting to the point where Tarzan is actively on the island, and Zaroff has to move quickly so as to simultaneously hunt the girls while avoiding him.

Then in the Climax, the truth comes out: Tarzan was never there. He hasn’t even received word of the boat’s sinking yet, so he doesn’t even know Jane is in danger. The updates on his approach were orchestrated by the girls, as a form of psychological warfare to throw Zaroff off his game.

Comment by @maxwell-grant​:

@jcogginsa​ Perfect. Absolutely perfect. I see no reason to do anything different.

It allows both for Zaroff’s fears and desperation to keep stewing until a boiling point and for him to grow into the co-protagonist role but also doesn’t downplay the worth of our protagonists. I imagined early on that Tarzan would have little to no role in the proceedings and the downfall of Zaroff (and whatever other villain we may team him with) would be brought entirely by the girls under his nose, but to have Tarzan not even be on his way not only ups the tension for the girls, but it also makes their victory more impressive.

In regards to Zaroff being scared of Tarzan: I suggest it mostly because I think it leads to fun scenarios and also makes him a bit of an underdog even which better suits my idea of Zaroff as almost the co-protagonist, but I do think it can be grounded in stronger reasons. I imagine Zaroff wouldn’t be scared of Doc Savage, despite also being someone bordering on superhuman, because Doc isn’t exactly known for being a wild man of legend who is perfectly willing to inflict savage jungle brutality on those who cross him and his allies, Doc is known as a great adventurer, man of science and crimefighter. Zaroff, in his arrogance, would think of Doc as a great challenge, but one he could take. A city dweller spoiled by his riches and privilege. He would like to think of himself as able to overcome Doc, as he overcomes the jungle and all savage beings in it. “It appears Clark Jr wasn’t much of a Savage after all”, he says as he mounts a new head on his wall.

Of course Count Zaroff at first is going to be dissappointed that the Savage he was looking to hunt is not the great doctor, but merely his female cousin. And Zaroff isn’t going to be scared of Jane. Why, the Grreat Count Zaroff, being scared of, dare I say it, a WOMAN? TWO, EVEN? PRREPOSTEROUS.

But the Legendary Count Greystoke, Tarzan of the Apes, he who kills and skins lions with his bare hands, fears nothing and no one, who knows the jungle far better than Zaroff ever could and can rely on all it’s inhabitants for help, and is known for being fiercely protective of the woman he loves and has killed men for lesser offenses? Zaroff isn’t that suicidal, and of course the girls use the fact that they are underestimated to their advantage. Zaroff only thinks of the girls, and whoever else they are with, as targets, and Tarzan as the only threat he is terrified and excited for in equal measure, and that becomes his undoing.

Comment by @jcogginsa​:

I’m glad you like the idea Max. A further thought on the season: When I first pitched the idea, I recall throwing out the possibility of the Wolf Man, Lawrence Talbot, being present, and I’d like to expand on that.

The idea goes that Zaroff has let the Wolfman loose on his island, with the intent of passing him off as a beast terrorizing the local populace. The reason he does this is because he quite admires Doc Savage, and before he hunts the man, he’d like to hunt alongside him. Pat and Jane are initially a disappointment to him, as he figures that women aren’t really good enough to make for an entertaining hunt. However, when Pat and Jane hear about the ‘beast’, they insist on helping the hunt, since they’re good conscious won’t let them leave that be.

In the process of hunting the Wolfman and (seemingly) killing him, Zaroff becomes impressed enough with them that he decides they’re good prey after all. Jane and Pat eventually meet up with Lawrence, who tells him of Zaroff’s original plan of hunting Doc, and that’s when they put together the Tarzan fake out plan. They figure that if Zaroff’s goal was to hunt Doc, then he could have simply sent Pat to inform him of the ‘threat’ so as to lure him to the island, and that the only reason why he wouldn’t have done so would be because it would draw Tarzan to the island as well

And I think we’re caught up!

So, I like the idea of having poor Larry in the mix; it’s even possible he volunteered for the gig, because I’m pretty sure that at this point (while I don’t believe we have an official timeframe for the Universal Monsters films, they all take place in the late Nineteenth century, so Larry’s been The Wolf Man for decades) he’s pretty much given up on being cured, and is now trying to find a way to die that will actually stick (at this point he’s been “killed” with silver and then revived by magic or mad science so many times it doesn’t work anymore, it just keeps him down for a few years or less), and Zaroff has convinced him he can do that.

It very quickly becomes apparent Zaroff lied about that, and Larry is Not. Happy. I mean, even more so than usual. Also, Zaroff failed to mention there would be other people on the island who might become Wolf Man chow, or that said people would be female.

I also imagine that Zaroff underestimated how dangerous The Wolf Man is; he figured, OK it’s basically an oversized wolf, and I’ve killed loads of those, as long as I keep some silver rounds on hand, it’ll be fine. He’s a modern man, not prone to believing in peasant superstitions, and did not really comprehend how unnaturally vicious and hard to kill the thing is.

It also adds an extra element of danger, even if Tarzan does arrive, because his usual toolbox is not gonna help with The Wolf Man, and in fact is liable to get him turned into a werewolf himself, and the idea of Tarzan as a werewolf is too terrible to contemplate.

On the plus side, Pat’s pretty confident her cousin can cure him. She just has to convince Larry of that.

[boogiewrites]

No. 9 The Body Ch. 8

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary:  Eve learns more about her powers while on a real date with Diego.

Warnings/Tags: Flirting. Sexism. Threats of violence. Canon Typical. Date. Diego Protecc. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

The day had started strong for Eve. She was being interviewed by a local women’s club for her transformation from using their services to becoming a respected doctor with a winning reputation. It’d been flattering and put a little perk in Eve’s step admittedly.

She was headed from a conference room, a much easier place to get to for a non-employee than her small office. But the ease for the interviewer was something she quickly wished she’d not cared so much about as she felt eyes on her, walking alone back towards her wing. She didn’t typically have to be around the board member hallways, it was a place most women avoided.

“Evie?” A familiar voice that immediately made her nose wrinkle came from behind her. “Long time no see.” Bryon Gray, a son of a bitch who happened to be a son of a chief of staff. They’d gone through residency together and every woman that had ever met him had quickly learned to avoid him. “What brings you over to this side of the hospital.” He gives her arm a faux friendly smack of greeting and she grimaces.

“I had an interview.” She answers flatly, his cross-fitted, legacy-name body blocked her path as he manspread across the hall and put his hands on his hips as if everything he said were to be stopped and observed most intently.

“Now I know everything going on around here.” He winks and taps his temple. “And I haven’t heard about you interviewing for anything.”

This may come as a shock to you Bryon but you don’t know everything, which is what she preferred to say. But instead, “It wasn’t for a job. I was interviewed for a magazine.” She says with a low brow.

“Oh! Which one? I mean, which ones are even in print anymore?” He laughs. “We talking the big NEJM?” He laughs. ”Oh wait, that was me.” He brags.

“No. It’s called Ms.” she begins to lean to initiate an exit.

“Mrs.? It like a wedding thing?” He asks with narrowed eyes. “I thought you were single.”

“It’s M. S. A feminist magazine started by Gloria Steinman in the 70s.” She wanted to slap herself for trying to defend it. He wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah that’s hot right now, isn’t it? What was it for?”

She sniffs and twitches her nose trying to not have such a knee-jerk reaction to this... jerk. "My work.”

“You are all work aren’t you Evie? Always have been.”

“Well, you know me.”

“I know Dads noticed the numbers you've been managing. Makes sense word would be getting around about an ex-stripper turned doctor who has the least amount of deaths of patients by a landslide would be a feel-good piece.”

She wanted to defend herself. To slap him and tell him to kiss her ass but she knew it would be fruitless. “Next thing you know they’ll be making a Barbie of me for all the things I’m great at.” She decides to retort with praise instead of defense. ”Stripper heels and a stethoscope would be a hell of a combination for accessories, huh?”

He gives her a look up and down. “You sure you aren’t dancing anymore? You’re looking... great by the way. Very… tight.” He motions a squeeze with his hands. More like how old male plastic surgeons do when they explain implants to young girls.

“I’ve been working out.” Another flat response as she clears her throat and begins to move far past him to continue back on her path. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Keep up the good work there Evie. Both professionally and personally.” She didn’t need to turn to look at him to know what look he had on his face. It was one every woman had had to suffer at some point in her life.

——————-

Eve was determined not to let some silver-spooned dumbass ruin her day. She had much more important things to put her energy on. Like going out with Diego that night. Oh, and saving people. Can’t forget that.

For early spring the air felt heavy and it didn’t help the sour mood that had followed her that day. She had stood too long in the shower, getting pruney, debating on whether to shave above the knee or not. She wasn’t gonna fuck him on the first date. No, she didn’t do that stuff anymore. But was it a first date? She’d known him for months now. Maybe best to not shave to deter her from making any rash decisions.

She’d been particularly mean to herself while trying to find an outfit to wear. She didn’t think she should be so easily frustrated with something like this but she realizes it’s been a long time since she cared about her outfit. Much less fussing over what to wear for a date. As always she played it cool, even when she wasn’t. She was relieved by the few pairs of stretchy denim she had still fit. She wrapped herself up in a black jacket and made her way to the gym in shoes that were nowhere near as comfortable as her usual sneakers. She figured boots with a heel were more low key than pumps. She rolls her eyes and swings her head to shake out the non-productive stream of thought.

“Hey Eve.” Diego’s voice breaks her out of the intrusive thoughts and she gives a smile that doesn’t give away that she’s been in a mood all day.

“Hey, Diego.” She answers in a relieved exhale.

They exchange pleasantries before heading off on foot in the direction of the bar. Her hands kept to the strap of her purse that was across her body. She hadn’t hugged him when she’d greeted him, but should she have? Should she… try to hold his hand? Was that too much? How do you date again? She chews the inside of her cheek.

“You worked today right?” He asked partly to kill the dead air but mostly because he was curious.

“You know I did.” She rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Overnight shift, huh? Have to pull anything out of anybody’s butt?”

He gives a wide boyish smile and she laughs in response. “Not tonight no.” she shakes her head. “What about you?”

“I luckily have not had to pull anything out of anyone’s butt.”

She laughs and gives him and below that knocks him slightly and as he returns to her side he stands closer than before. “Smartass.”

He smiles closed-lipped but proudly.

“Everyone’s always asking me about gross stuff. There are other things to ask a doctor…to ask ME about.”

“Like what?”

“Anything besides butt stuff.” She chuckles at her answer.

“Oh I didn’t think that was where we were going with this so soon BUTT-“

She scoffs and laughs and shoves him again before he comes back at her and smoothly, she must admit put his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “If it’s not then where IS is going?” She gives a playful pause. “Why’d you decide to ask me out?”

“Why’d you say yes?”

“I asked you first.”

“I respect you playing by grade school rules.” He teases before answering.

“What took this from two super freaks helping each other out to Diego asking Eve out on a date?”

“We’re still super freaks.” He corrects. “What do you wanna hear huh?” He gives a cocky nod. “That you’re… pretty? Smart? Funny?”

“I mean it’s a good start so go on…” she smiles.

“I...y’know. You don’t annoy me... all the time.” He shrugs slightly to play it cool. “It’s… easy with you. You aren’t a dick. Well I mean, a real dick. You’re a DICK don’t get wrong-“

“A dick but not a DICK-dick.” She clarifies.

“See! You get it.” He nods his head her way and she feels the sincerity he’s trying to give her in his way. They walk for a moment, the location in sight now. “You not gonna tell me I’m pretty now?” He jokes and hip knicks her before separating for the door.

“You’re very pretty Diego.” She coos as he holds open the door for her.

“That's better.” He bats his lashes and she walks in first, him close and protective behind her.

———————

Diego looks down at his phone with a sigh. “It’s my brother. I have to call him.”

“The serious little one from the gym?”

“ that’s the one.”

“ he doesn’t seem like a patient kind of guy.” She gives a soft laugh to show no hard feelings. “Go on, it’s fine. I understand.” She gives a nonchalant shrug. “If you have to leave just tell me first. Don’t disappear like you’re so good at.”

He gives a quiet, almost apologetic chuckle in response. “I won’t. I’ll be right back.”

Eve takes out her phone to keep to herself and pass the time. Five seemed like a very intense guy. Especially if he was someone that could get Diego to do something he didn’t want to.

“Hey.” She’d heard it already but kept her expression unmoving. “Hey, Girl.”

After the 4th time, it’s clear the guy sat between two friends who looked like they all fell out of the same legacy fraternities, and was not going to stop trying to get her Attention. she turns to meet his eyes with the most indifferent face she could manage.

“There she is. That guy leaves a hot thing like you alone?”

“No.” She answers flatly.

“He...uh, ya brother or somethin’?”

“No.” Another monotone answer

“Ah so is that lucky bastard ya mans then?”

She slowly blinks and takes her time to answer. “Why do you care?”

“I wouldn’t be letting you be nowhere alone if I was your man sweetheart.”

“Duly noted.” She turns back away.

“Oh, a smart one, fellas. You know I like it when they get feisty. What you do baby? You lookin' good as hell. You one of them dancers? Those freaky European girls over at the school?” He laughs and elbows his cohort. “Those broads talk all kinds of smart.”

“I’m a Doctor.” She continues to look at her phone and not engage. Diego would be back soon. And this guy was an idiot.

“Oh! a fuckin DOCTOR bros!” He mocks. “I might’ve listened to my doc if he had an ass like that.”

She sighs and feels her jaw tighten.

“Hey! I got something I need ya to look at sexy doctor. I bet you’ve never seen one like this before.”

“I’ve diagnosed the clap before so I have seen it.”

The guys with him laugh but he doesn’t.

“Why the ones with the smart mouths always such bitches?” He complains with a childish retort. “I was being nice and you gotta go act like that. You’re lucky your so hot sweetheart. Most men wouldn’t put up that shit.”

“Would you put up with it?”

“Fuck no, I keep my woman in line.” He says proudly

“Ah, good. So you can quit talking to me then. Because I’m just going to use words that further confuse you if you keep it up.” She rolls her eyes and keeps on her phone as Diego walks back to the table. For the moment the guy was silent.

—-

Eve excused herself to go to the bathroom, perhaps the beers had gotten to her. Or all the water she was forcing down her pie hole constantly it seemed. Trying to be properly hydrated was hard.

She was still distracted in thought, wondering how much she’d drank in water tonight to know how much she could pour out when she got home. She’d bought a jug with hourly markers because targeted ads worked and it was black matte and had-

Her train of thought is sharply interrupted by a forearm jutting out in front of her path. She looks to the perpetrator and there stands Chad. She assumed his name was Chad. He looked like one, acted like one. And if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...well you know how that goes.

“I saw you walkin' back here in those tight fuckin jeans and was compelled to continue our conversation from earlier.”

“No thanks, dude. I’d like to get back to my date now.” She answers flatly.

“Ya little man’s left sweetheart.” His other arm comes up and her now to the wall back was tense and defensive. Their bodies blocked the small back hallway and she hoped someone would interrupt them soon.

“Then he’ll be right back.”

“He answered his phone and jetted babe.” He tsks. “Yahate to see it. “ a predatory pout comes across his face as he reaches to caress her forearm. “And to a dime like you.” She tenses and noisily exhales. “His loss my gain yeah?” He laughs and she smells a nauseatingly familiar combination of nacho cheese and cheap beer.

“Excuse me...Chad? Is it Chad? I’d like to get back to my seat if you-“

“I’m right here baby.” He smirks and wiggles his jaw. “Face or my cock girl, I ain’t picky.” His hands move to her waist and pull her against him. She didn’t want to make a scene. To let this asshole ruin her date.

“I’m giving you one chance to get your fucking hands off me bro.” She bucks back, deeper voice and glaring into his eyes.

“Mmm, what are you? Where ya mama from eh? You must be a little Latin mami lookityou.” The slurring was beginning to stand out more. He did loosen his grip and she put as much space as she could between them. Progress.

“It’s none of your business and you’re being rude and you’re drunk. You should go home.”

“Only if I’m taking this back with me mami,” he reaches his hand to her ass and before he’s fully grasped she’s shoved him hard against the wall. “Oh fuck yeah hard to get. I’m gonna hold you down and beat that pussy UP.”

“You couldn’t even get hard you needle dicked dumbass.” She straightens her jacket. “Let me say this so you understand. Leave me alone. I am not going to fuck you, you fuckin rapist. You should be ashamed of yourself. I hope your mother's dead so she doesn’t have to see what a piece of shit she raised.” She moves to walk away.

His glassy eyes look a strange mixture of hurt to mad to confused.

“Everything okay here?” A tone she hadn’t heard from Diego before as he stood with a wide stance in front of Eve but eyes on the walking cliche. “You okay?” He asks softer as he flicks his eyes to hers, a hand lightly on her arm.

“I’m fine. This guy is garbage. Don’t bother he’s not worth it. Just another moron who never got to the cognitive thought stage.” She sighs and pats his hand, heading back to the table.

After doing a poor job of acting interested in Diego explaining something about knives, she kept seeing Chad eye fuck her from across the bar. She could feel his eyes boring into her. He kept looking and acting casual otherwise, eating and running and talking with his beef necked buddies. Eve was no stranger to harassment. She was a woman and a woman who worked in the medical field. She’d been accosted more times than she could count. From old men winking and having their dicks out to young men locking her inside of an exam room and not letting her leave until he got what he thought he was owed.

She wasn’t even mad about him anymore, her rage was fueled by every man that ever made her feel uncomfortable. Every creep ass ex, every older man trying to take advantage of her. She felt like her face should be hot and Diego’s words become background noise.

-

Diego didn’t notice for a while, too excited to talk about a new knife rig he was working on. He looks behind him at the sound of choking and sees the guy that was bothering Eve earlier trying to clear his throat. He notices Eve isn’t responding even when he stands and tries to gasp. He moves to see her still and focused with flickering eyes. Like electricity was behind them. He watched her curiously, eyes set like a lion in the tall grass. He looks back to Chad, now red and holding his throat.

“Eve…” he reaches out to touch her arm and he’s met with a crack of static electricity. She doesn’t even acknowledge him and the guys turning a weird shade of purple. “EVE.” He says harsher and grasps her forearm, feeling the tingle of hair rise on the back of His neck. “EVE! HEY!” he reaches and as Chad's eyes bloodshot he turns her face to him and breaks her focus.

The desperate gasp of air from Chad was immediate.

“Eve… what the hell was that?”

“What?” She blinks rapidly as if she’d just come to.

“He was choking and you were…” he lowers his voice and moves closer to her. Everyone was now preoccupied with Chad. “...using your powers weren’t you?”

Her mouth holds open as her eyes now normal flit back and forth. “I…” she feels it. Something she could identify. A cooling rush in her veins. “I hurt him.” She whispers in shock.

“Yeah, you almost choked him to death. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… I did that.”

“I didn’t know you could do that?”

“Neither did I.”

———-

Diego and Eve sit back in her apartment after a fast exit. She seemed worried, so he tried to hide his concern. He kept having to reach for her wrist to keep her on track and eventually settled on holding her hand. They hadn’t said much on the walk back. She was coming to terms with a lot and once again they’d fallen back into the roles of helping each other through these secret things only they understood and out of the dating pool they’d tiptoed in successfully tonight.

“Look you can control them, alright? You can control healing and you can control hurting. They’re the same thing. You got carried away. And that guy was an asshole and he deserved a scare honestly.”

He rubs her upper arms and she wipes at her face with a tissue. “I’m sorry for...ruining tonight.” She sighs out with eyes now makeup-free.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He grimaces. “We’ve just… got sidetracked. It happens.” He shrugs and tries to be supportive.

“I’ve had such a bad day, Diego.” She laughs to not cry and meets his eyes. “I didn’t want to cancel because of it and let it win. But I’ve been so sensitive today. I don’t know.”

“What happened?.” He moves to pull her to the edge of her bed.

“There’s just this guy, Brian at work and he was shitty to me today-“

“Brian who?” Diego quickly interjects in such a dramatic way it makes her crack a smile while he remained serious.

“You don’t have to beat him up.” She gives a thankful smile and pats the back of his hands. He takes her hands into his and lays them in her lap.

“If someone's makin' you so upset you lose control I'm pretty sure I DO have to kick their ass.”

“Thanks. Your heart is in the right place. I appreciate it. Seriously.” She frees one hand as he holds tight to her others. “I don’t want to be known as the woman who you can’t talk to because her b- her friend might beat them up.”

“Your what might beat them up?” He teases with a smile.

“Friend. My friend. That’s what I said.” She whines playfully and he smirks. “He’s one of the director's sons.” She shrugs.

She’d just given him enough information to easily find the guy. Not like he wouldn’t have gone through every Brian in that hospital. “Why would he be a dick to you?” He takes her hand back into his and it makes her smile as she looks down at them. He held her hands in a clear expression of his want to protect her. She thought it was very sweet of him. But she didn’t know he had full intentions of beating the white off Brian.

“Sexism mostly?” She offers and Diego gives her a look of impatience.

“I ran into him and he said some things about my past in a tone that wasn’t nice and he’s in general very… sleazy and gives uncomfortable compliments. No one says anything because he’s Knox’s son so...he’s a privileged white dude. That should tell you enough.”

“It does.” He accepts her elaboration. She was quickly learning he was stubborn as a mule when it came to wanting something, particularly information.

“Then the guy at the bar.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that asshole.” He sighs. “I would’ve decked him but you seemed like you didn’t want me to.”

“I could r done it myself if I wanted. But I didn’t want to ruin the evening.” She emotes dramatically, saying it didn’t matter in the long run. “He was talking to me while you were gone the first time too.”

“Seriously? Eve. Why didn’t you let me knock his punk ass out?”

“Because Diego I wanted to have a nice date with you. Without involving fighting. We can work it out at training later. I didn’t want to…” she groans.

“Okay, okay. I...get what you’re saying. And I think you’re wrong. But I understand.”

“Thanks. Maybe we’ll get it right next time.” She offers with a tired smile.

“Next time?” His smile gives away his glad reaction to the insinuation.

“Yeah. I figured we could go out on another date. Unless you don’t want to?” He feels her hands begin to pull away and he keeps them close.

“No! I do! I do Uh “ clearing his throat, “I mean I’d like that. It’d be..chill”

She snorts a laugh at his recovery. “I’m excited to go out with you again too. Don’t try to play it cool I already know you. I know you aren’t” she teases.

“That’s cold man.” He deflects and they share a nice pause between them. “We’ll go somewhere where no one can upset you.”

“If you’re with me you could.”

“Normally I’d agree. But I don’t plan on upsetting you... You know. I mean it might happen but like...I don’t wanna hurt you. For real.”

“I think I knew that Diego.” She gives him a warm smile and squeezes his hands. “I don’t wanna hurt you either. I’ve gotten pretty fond of you. As much as I hate to admit.”

“I don’t hate to admit it.” He gives a dopey smile and she pays his cheek.

“Thank you for… everything tonight.”

“Was nothin,” he answers cockily.

“You can be really sweet when you aren’t trying too hard.” She says as they feel their heartbeat flip for a moment as they look into each other’s eyes a bit too long for it to go unnoticed.

“I don’t have to try hard with you.” He answers back softly and he sees his moment. She sees the tell of his eyes moving to her lips, that tilt of his head that made him look like a sweet little pitbull puppy.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to thank him for everything he’d done for her. Properly. They could both feel the tension between them now. “Diego… I do-“

“Uh yeah, you’re right. It’s not- yeah-..” he stutters in reaction to what he thought could be rejection.

She smiles and rises to go after him as he puts space between them. “I WANT to, Diego I just don’t think right now is the right moment.” She explains gently with her hands to his chest and she yawns. “I’m exhausted from using my powers tonight. I don’t want to be… not giving you 110% if you get what I’m saying.” She wiggles her eyebrows and it knocks his defenses down as intended.

“Oh. Good. You...you’re right.” He chuckles shyly. “I can go now and I’ll see you at training then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She offers a hug instead of a kiss and he happily takes it. His temple to her temple for a moment and feeling her let out a content sigh in his arms. “Be careful headed home.” She offers as they part. “Despite everything I still had a good time tonight. For the record.”

“I did too.” He offers before ducking out the door with a “Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

She knew she would thanks to him.

@jaegeeeeer​ @diegos-butt​ @anglovesthis @likedovesinthewnd

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Unravel, Chapter 6/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Dr. Iplier finds himself somewhere new, facing Yandere’s kidnapper. The truth comes out and the situation escalates in one horrifying swoop. Warnings: Mind control, violence, blood, death threats, non-con touching, brief suicide mention 

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

“Hey, wake up already, I only gave you a little bit.”

Dr. Iplier groans. He wakes slowly, confused. It takes him a long moment to remember what happened. But it comes to him moment by moment, the strange feeling, the cabinet closing, the empty box, the static, the syringe, the static –

Dr. Iplier gasps awake, jolting into full awareness. He’s sitting in a chair, his arms and legs tied down. He’s somewhere he’s never seen before, somewhere cold and dirty, somewhere with wood floors and wood walls. The person standing in front of him grins, Cheshire-like and sharp.

“There you are! I only needed you out for a minute, it’s been nearly ten.”

Dr. Iplier pales.

“Anti!?”

“Who else?”

Anti stands before Dr. Iplier in his classic black t-shirt and dark, forest-green hair to complement his green-tinged skin. His ears are gauged, his throat is slit and bleeding slightly. His eyes, one bright blue and one glowing green, are glinting with barely-restrained glee.

“Where am I?” Dr. Iplier gasps, trying not to sound afraid. “This isn’t your hideout!”

“No, it’s not,” Anti says, “Or at least, it’s not my main one. I knew you guys would come looking for me, so I figured I needed another place to hide my secrets.” Anti laughs at Dr. Iplier’s bewildered expression. “I’ll admit though, I’ve had this place on reserve for a while, off the grid. Not completely, though. I mean, hello!” He points to himself and glitches, pixels scattering and reforming. “But as much as it could be. We’re out in, oh, what are the words, a little wood cabin in the middle of nowhere?”

“You mean…?”

“Oh no, not the cabin, who knows where that thing is. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s a handy place to have, for sure, especially after your esteemed leaders tore my main hideout apart.” Anti pauses, leaning closer to Dr. Iplier. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

“If you remember their visit,” Dr. Iplier mutters, “You know damn well who we’re looking for.”

“Ohhh, someone’s grumpy!” Anti laughs, as though he’s looking at a hissing kitten. “You won’t be talking so tough in a minute. I have something to show you. You’re only the second Iplier to see this place.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart simultaneously sinks and soars. He knows what Anti means even before he glitches away for a moment and returns with another person.

It’s Yandere. It’s Dr. Iplier’s son, his boy, his baby, the one he’s been missing, the one he’s been lonely for, the one he’s been afraid of losing forever, standing before him in the flesh, whole, alive…but wrong.

It’s mostly his eyes. There’s no whites, no pupils, no chocolate brown, only static, black and white and lifeless. He faces Dr. Iplier, but he stares through him, seeing nothing. His entire face is slack, mouth open. His hair is dirty, greasy, his normally-bright ruby bangs are now dull and dusty red. His cheek is bruised, as are places on his arms and legs. He’s peppered with cuts, his neck is mottled purple and red, his nails are chipped and dirty. He’s too thin. His breathing is wheezy. He stands limply, like the slightest tap might knock him down, yet his posture is mostly straight, like a doll meticulously positioned.

Or a puppet.

“Yan,” Dr. Iplier gasps, staring at his child with undisguised horror.

“Don’t bother trying to talk to him,” Anti says casually, “He doesn’t care about what anyone has to say but me. He won’t remember this later, anyway.” He points to Yandere’s buzzing, static eyes. “He can barely string together a coherent thought with all the static floating around in his brain right now. So we can talk about anything, no need to worry about what Yan’ll remember.”

“How did you do this?” Dr. Iplier asks, quiet with shock. “There’s measures in place to keep you out…”

“Yeah, but I’ll tell you a secret.” Anti leans in towards Dr. Iplier again. “They don’t completely work. I couldn’t manifest all the way; otherwise I would’ve kidnapped him sooner. But I could sneak my static into the things he listened to, I could put glitches in the things he watched.” Anti grins, voice darkening. “I could put little messages into his head about how nice the static is, how pretty it is, how fun it is to listen to it. How fun it is to obey it. To submit. It took some patience, but eventually he was putty in my hands, and none of you suspected a thing.”

“So the storm, the blackout…”

“Actually, that’s the one thing I can’t take credit for.” Anti shrugs. “I still needed a way to manifest in the building, and the storm was my chance. I may have lent some power to the lightning bolt that hit the building, though. And when I left, I made sure to leave a little path through the coding so I could come back after the Googles fixed everything again. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having our lovely chat.”

“You mean you wouldn’t be having your monologue,” Dr. Iplier snaps.

Anti grins again, but there’s something different about it. Before Dr. Iplier can figure out what, Anti raises a hand and strikes Yandere across the face, his nails splitting open Yandere’s cheek.

“Yan!!” Dr. Iplier cries, lurching forward against his bonds.

“I’m in control here,” Anti says, eyes glittering with rage, mouth still grinning. “Yandere is my puppet. You are my prisoner. He already knows his place, and you had better learn yours. I’d hate to have to skin him alive right here in front of you, but I will if you make me.” He glitches a knife into his hand, holds it under Yandere’s chin. “Are you going to make me?”

“No, no, please,” Dr. Iplier begs. A tear runs down his cheek.

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Yandere, for his part, doesn’t even react to the slap. It snaps his head to the side, and he merely slowly turns his head back to face Dr. Iplier again. There’s three lines in his cheek from Anti’s nails, dripping blood down his face.

“Maybe you should’ve listened to Wilford after all,” Anti says with a shrug. “Not that he had any real reason to keep suspecting me; he had no evidence but a hunch and his own paranoia. But you know what they say about broken clocks.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, Jackieboy mentioned how quiet I’ve been lately. I guess you guys had plenty of hints, you just ignored them.”

“How…how do you know about all that?” Dr. Iplier asks, tears still falling from earlier.

“C’mon Doc, don’t you remember my PAX video?” Anti laughs. His hair fades into yellow-green, his eyes turn black. “I’m always there, always watching. I know everything.” He laughs again at Dr. Iplier’s shocked expression as his hair and eyes return to normal. “Hey, hey, I wanna show you something cool.”

“Wh…What?” Dr. Iplier asks, feeling as though he has no other choice.

“Watch this.”

Anti steps closer to Yandere, getting into his personal space. Yandere doesn’t react, doesn’t move away.

“Yandere.”

Yandere turns his head and looks at Anti, still expressionless.

“Who’s your senpai?” Anti grins, draping an arm around Yandere’s shoulder.

“You,” Yandere answers without hesitation, voice monotone.

It’s so unlike Yandere, so unlike his normal emotional self, so unlike his normal personality, that Dr. Iplier sobs.

“Try again,” Anti says, prodding Yandere’s bleeding cheek with one finger. “Say my name this time.”

“You are my senpai, Anti-sama,” Yandere says, still dull and lifeless.

“Did you hear that??” Anti cackles, dropping his head into Yandere’s shoulder to laugh. “He used “-sama”!” He grins at Dr. Iplier, all teeth. “I’m his god now.” He looks back to Yandere with a smile that’s almost gentle. “You’ve really taken well to your conditioning. Good boy, Yandere.” He ruffles Yandere’s hair, raking through the greasy strands with his long nails, and while Yandere’s expression doesn’t change, his posture perks up, like some part of him enjoys the praise.

Dr. Iplier just feels sick, seeing Anti pet Yandere’s hair like he used to.

“Don’t touch him,” he gasps.

“Why not?” Anti asks, leaning in close to Yandere, nose to nose. “He doesn’t mind, see?” He takes Yandere’s chin, turns his face forward again, and licks a line up Yandere’s cheek, tongue running a long stripe through the drying blood there.

“Get away from him!!” Dr. Iplier screams, fighting against his restraints, tears pouring down his face in earnest. “Let go of him, don’t touch my son!!”

“He’s not your anything, not anymore,” Anti says, straightening but keeping his hands on Yandere’s shoulders. “All he knows now is me. All he cares about is me. If I told him to kill himself for me he’d do it. Wanna see?”

“No, no, no,” Dr. Iplier moans, sagging in his bonds, exhausted and shattered.

“Good.” One of Anti’s clawed fingers runs up Yandere’s neck, stroking over his jugular. “I’m not ready to give up this puppet yet.”

“What do you want with him?” Dr. Iplier asks, weeping. “What do you want from me?”

“Ohhh, what do you want from me??” Anti mocks, hair morphing into a natural dark brown and green eye glowing like a star. “Let me tell you, Doc.” His appearance changes back to normal as he looks down at Dr. Iplier. “I have a plan. And it all started with Yandere here.” He pauses. “Well, actually, it started with this.” He digs in the pocket of his jeans for something, and pulls out a small, skinny, cylindrical vial of purple liquid.

“What is that?” Dr. Iplier asks, mystified as to how this relates.

“This,” Anti says, holding the vial up to the light, “Is a potion that Marvin made. He doesn’t know I have it; I doubt he even knows it’s missing. He has this thing where he likes to make potions he has no intention of using to boost his skills, and then he hoards them all in case they end up being useful someday.” He shakes the vial lightly, and as it sloshes, red and blue peek through the ripples. “He changes their hiding place every week so I don’t find them, but I always do. I’ve been waiting for him to make me something useful, and he finally did.” Anti peers at Dr. Iplier, flashing another shark-toothed grin. “What do you think it does?”

“I…” Dr. Iplier starts, “How would I know?”

Anti lets out a barking laugh.

“Good point,” he admits. “This potion is designed to split beings up into their base essences.” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully. “It’d probably make a normal human explode. But if Marvin took it, he’d probably just lose his magic. If I took it, it might pull away my glitches. Oh, I know!” He snaps his fingers with his other hand. “It’s like Bim’s power, how he can pull things apart. But this is much more concentrated, much faster, much stronger. But it’s also one-use only. You’d have to take the whole vial for this to work. And I have a particular victim in mind.”

“Who?” Dr. Iplier asks, dread creeping down his back. A potion like that could cause untold damage to any of the egos.

Anti grins.

“Dark,” he says, like it’s a logical conclusion. “If Dark takes this, I bet it’ll split him apart from his aura, and then it’ll be mine for the taking.” His eyes glint as Dr. Iplier’s widen. “I’ll be the most powerful figment on the planet. I’ll be unstoppable. And you,” He points at Dr. Iplier. “Are going to help me make it happen.”

“What!? No way!!” Dr. Iplier cries. “Why me, anyway? And why take Yandere?? Why not do this yourself!?”

“Are you kidding?” Anti scoffs, “I’m not stupid. There’s no way I could sneak this potion into Dark myself. He’d catch me in an instant, and then it’d be game over. There’s no way I could puppet Wilford, either; if I could, I’d just do that instead of bother with all this.” He puts an arm around Yandere again as he continues. “Really, you were always the best candidate to enact this plan, Doc. No one would ever suspect you, and you’d have ample opportunity. I would’ve just puppeted you, but you’re too close to The Host.” He snarls in annoyance, grip tightening on Yandere’s shoulder. “For a blind guy, he sees fucking everything. So trying to get you directly was too risky. I needed a different way in. I needed leverage.” He looks at Yandere, still impassive and blank, and grins. “I needed Yandere. I knew that so long as I took care not to condition him with someone else in the room, I could make him a puppet right under everyone’s nose. I thought about just making him give Dark the potion, but he’s so fucking in love with him.” Anti grimaces in disgust and grabs Yandere’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks. “If he were just a human I could force him anyway, but he’s a figment, and his whole stupid existence is about being in love with Dark.” He releases Yandere’s cheeks to grab his hair instead. “I didn’t want to risk him shaking off my suggestion in the middle of it. So instead, he’s my leverage. After all…” He looks back to Dr. Iplier. “You’re still the best person to get this potion into Dark. All you need is a push.” He pulls Yandere’s hair, so hard that Yandere is lifted up to stand on his toes. He doesn’t even flinch, but Dr. Iplier does.

“So, what,” Dr. Iplier gasps, mind reeling, “You kidnap and threaten Yandere to make me do your bidding? Is that it?” He glares at Anti. “If you got Dark’s aura you’d kill us all. I can’t let that happen.”

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Anti cackles, “You’re between a rock and a hard place. If you refuse my plan outright, well, I’ll probably just keep you here. See if I can make you a puppet without Host breathing down your neck. They might figure it out when I send you back, but I could always just possess you and pretend to be you.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Then I could get Dark, and keep Yandere for a while…but ugh, you might push me out. No, this is the best way.” He finally releases Yandere’s hair, and Dr. Iplier watches a few tufts float to the ground, pulled out by Anti’s forceful grip. Yandere falls back on his heels, almost stumbles, but rights himself back to his original posture. Anti cups Yandere’s chin, turns his face to look into his static-filled eyes. “I might just kill Yandere if you refuse.” He grabs Yandere’s waist with his other hand, pulls him so he’s flush against Anti, chest to chest.

“He’d…” Dr. Iplier forces himself to stay calm, keep down his revulsion. “He’d come back. And in the meantime, we’d find this place, Dark and Wilford will rip you apart, and Yandere will wake up safe at Ego Inc.”

“He might come back,” Anti agrees, hand on Yandere’s chin creeping around to the back of his neck. “He might not, though. And if he did, do you think you’d have enough time to find him? You don’t know where this place is. You can’t even be sure what country this is.” His hand on Yandere’s waist travels, pulling up Yandere’s shirt, nails digging into his back, leaving red lines as they go. “I wonder how many times I’ll have to kill him before it sticks. Probably not many; he’s not as popular as the others. But how will I do it? I could skin him like I threatened to do earlier. I could slit his throat, make us twins. I could strangle him. I could rip out his spine, or his lungs, or his heart. I could make him commit seppuku or eat poison. I could tie him up, release him from my control, and let him be fully aware while I torture him, make him beg me to kill him with his own free will.” Anti grins, leaning his head onto Yandere’s shoulder, into his neck, fangs against Yandere’s skin when he speaks again. “Maybe I could tear out his throat with my teeth, right here, right in front of you.” He breathes in through his nose, ruffling Yandere’s hair, and growls. “I bet his blood is so nice, so warm. I bet it tastes incredible.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Dr. Iplier moans, mindless in terror and grief as he watches Anti put his hands on his son, sickeningly intimate. “Don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him.”

“Does that mean you’ll cooperate?” Anti asks, not pulling away.

Dr. Iplier whimpers, too in shock to sob. He knows helping Anti will lead to ruin. With Dark’s aura, Anti truly would be unstoppable. He’d be at least a match for Wilford, and he’d be able to mow down anyone else in his way. He could capture so many as puppets. The harm he could do is, truly, limitless. He might even go after humans, too, might try to take over anything. With Dark’s aura adding to his power, it might even be possible.

But…there’s still Yandere. There’s still his baby, there’s still his little one. Dr. Iplier could protect Yandere, he and the others could keep him safe, held away from Anti’s destruction. They can reinforce Ego Inc., rebuild the codes to keep Anti out, fight back, resist. They could find a way to destroy him. They could find a way to defeat him.

Dr. Iplier looks up, above Yandere’s head, to look at the timer there, the timer that everyone has, the timer that says how long someone has to live. He’s been avoiding looking at it this whole time, afraid of what he’ll see. But he needs to know. He can’t make a decision without seeing it. Yandere’s time is written in light blue numbers, which is promising; blue means the number can change, it can go lower but it can also go higher. The number is fluctuating up and down rapidly, no, not just fluctuating, glitching. The numbers scramble and fuzz up, rippling and crackling like a malfunctioning digital clock. Dr. Iplier’s jaw drops. He’s never seen someone’s time behave like this.

It’s stark, undeniable proof that Yandere’s life is completely in Anti’s hands. Whether he lives longer or dies sooner depends on Anti.

And what Anti does depends on Dr. Iplier.

Dr. Iplier cannot do it. He cannot kill his child, not even for the greater good.

He lets his head drop, ashamed.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” he asks Anti, quiet and broken.

He doesn’t see Anti’s grin, but he can imagine it, all pointy teeth and eyes that glint with triumph.

“Look at me,” Anti says, “And pay attention.”

Dr. Iplier lifts his head. Anti finally, finally lets go of Yandere, allowing him to return to his original position, staring emptily at Dr. Iplier.

“I’m going to send you back with the potion,” Anti begins. “You’re not to tell anyone about this conversation. You won’t tell anyone that you saw me, or saw Yandere, or anything else about what happened between us today. You won’t tell them to confront me again, or consider me as a suspect, or anything. If you do, consider our arrangement broken, because I’ll be murdering Yandere the second you let anything slip.” He smirks. “You can’t tell the Googles to revisit the coding keeping me out, either. That counts. You’ll carry that potion, keep quiet, and wait for a good time to use it on Dark. Inject him with it or make him drink it, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It might take a while,” Dr. Iplier mumbles.

“I know that,” Anti says, “I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes. But when the opportunity comes, you better take it. If you hesitate or change your mind, I’ll kill Yandere. But first I’ll sneak back into Ego Inc., take the potion from you, and give it to Dark myself.”

“How do you expect me to hide from The Host?” Dr. Iplier asks, “You said yourself that he knows everything.”

“What did he say before?” Anti asks in return, “Something about not knowing the past?” He grins at Dr. Iplier’s expression. “Told ya, Doc, always watching. Anyway, if you play it cool, he won’t suspect a thing. Once you give Dark the potion, I’ll drop by to snag his aura and return Yandere.”

“Return him unharmed,” Dr. Iplier growls. Anti laughs.

“It’s a bit late for that,” he chuckles, stroking Yandere’s scratched cheek. “But he’ll be free from my control, alive, and in one piece. That much I can promise.” He appears a knife into his hand, approaches Dr. Iplier, and cuts one of his hands free before holding out his own. “Is that a deal?”

Dr. Iplier chews his lip. He doesn’t want to do this. But he doesn’t want to lose Yandere. At the very least, he can agree for now, and figure out a plan later.

“Fine,” he sighs, thoroughly exhausted. He shakes Anti’s hand.

“Excellent.” Anti takes the potion back out of his pocket and gives it to Dr. Iplier.

The vial of purple liquid is surprisingly warm. Dr. Iplier slips it into the pocket of his lab coat. It feels like a hot stone, weighing him down. Anti cuts him completely free, allowing Dr. Iplier to stand. He rubs his wrists, chafed from the rope.

“Alright then,” Anti says, preparing to glitch them back to the clinic.

“Wait!” Dr. Iplier exclaims. “Can I…” He swallows. “Can I say goodbye to Yandere first?” Anti rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t know you anymore, remember?” Anti asks, condescending. “And he’s not going to remember it once I pull the static out of his brain.”

“I know, I know, just, please,” Dr. Iplier begs, “Just for a minute. I’ve missed him so much.”

“Fine,” Anti sighs, like it’s a huge inconvenience. “Make it quick.” He steps out of the way, leaving nothing between Dr. Iplier and Yandere.

Nothing between Dr. Iplier and his boy, the person he’s spent two weeks missing, two weeks waiting for, two weeks fearing he’d never see again.

He rushes to him, hugs him tight, starts stroking his greasy, limp hair. Tears prick his eyes as he holds Yandere close, and Yandere doesn’t react. He doesn’t push away, he doesn’t hug back, he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t relax with relief or flinch with fear. Still, it brings strength to Dr. Iplier’s heart to have his son in his arms again, even if for a moment, even if Yandere won’t remember or care.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing Yandere’s forehead, over and over. “I love you, I love you so much. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this right. I promise I’ll protect you no matter what.” He cups Yandere’s cheeks, mindful of the bruise on one cheek and the scratches on the other. “I’ll get you home again. Just hang in there, baby. It’ll be okay.”

He searches Yandere’s face for a reaction, for a twitch, for any indication of recognition or acknowledgement. There’s none. Yandere’s expression is blank, his eyes are still only static. Tears start to run down Dr. Iplier’s cheeks. He kisses Yandere’s forehead one last time before letting him go.

“I’m ready,” Dr. Iplier whispers through his tears.

“Quit crying,” Anti mutters, disgusted.

Dr. Iplier wipes his eyes with one arm as Anti grabs his other.

Then with a zap, they’re in cyberspace.

Dr. Iplier gasps, looking around himself to see code and binary surrounding him. Anti is electric beside him, zooming through the code, pulling Dr. Iplier with him. They hop from wifi network to hotspot, keeping up with the endless stream, until, suddenly, another zap sounds and Dr. Iplier is standing in his clinic again.

Anti is gone, but the potion remains in Dr. Iplier’s coat pocket.

He collapses into a nearby chair and sobs, and sobs, and sobs.

When The Host comes in that evening for blood transfusions and new bandages, Dr. Iplier is numb enough to act like nothing is amiss, and fixes Host like normal.

“Normal,” he thinks to himself as he helps Host, “Nothing will ever be normal again.”

[docholligay]

Doc Loves A Series of Unfortunate Events

You should read this book series to your children. Or your nieces and nephews. Neighbor children. 

Do NOT watch the Netflix Series, which I tried VERY hard to like. 

This is one of the few series I know that isn’t even really YA, it’s truly a children’s series, written with very simply prose, and is incredible. 

The prose is simple, as I said, but that does not mean it is in any way boring, or lacking in its own flavor of poetry. The narrator, Lemony Snicket, has an incredible way of telling stories, that is immediately recognizable as its own patter, in the same way that Rod Serling or Stephen King have an easily recognizable style, not something I generally find in children’s stories. 

If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say in a pleasant and hopeful voice, "Well this isn't too bad, I don't have a left arm anymore but at least nobody will ever ask me if I'm left-handed or right-handed," but most of us would say something more along the lines of, "Aaaaaa! My arm! My arm!

It’s the sort of thing that presents ideas, and themes, and really, very difficult things, to children in a way that is understandable to them without talking down to them. It’s what I think all children’s literature should aspire to be. The narration is funny, but often poignant, and it manages to define terms for children in a way that perfectly falls into the story, without seeming a moment’s out of step:

A passport, as I'm sure you know, is a document that one shows to government officials whenever one reaches a border between two countries, so that the official can learn who you are, where you were born, and how you look when photographed unflatteringly.

A child not knowing what a passport was would then immediately know, without having to stop and ask, without any sort of pause or confusion. It’s done so artfully, so many times within the series, that it becomes almost a joke or a style within itself. 

One of the reasons I love the story is that bad things continually happen to the children in it. It is not a story of being loved, and having triumph. It is a story of never giving up, against impossible odds, when all the world is against you. How great resourcefulness will carry you to the next tragedy, which is also something you can handle. I so rarely see things like this, that truly teach children that life is meant to be fought on, and no matter how young you are, you are completely capable of doing so. It never feels like the children will win, but it never feel like things are hopeless, either. It’s a strangely realistic children’s series, in this way, and I think presenting that level of resilience to children is important, and incredible. 

And it never shys away from using that simple yet elegant prose to highlight difficult things as well, things that I don’t know most children’s books go into. Not only the bad happenings themselves, but the feelings behind it. Death and moral complexity and saving face. The way tragedy has a tendency to worm its way into your heart, and lie there. I always think of this quote: 

It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.

And this one: 

People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict.

And this one okay I am done now: 

When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.

This is all I can say in the way of convincing you to read the books without spoiling anything for you

Spoilery below the cut:

You know what I never saw coming, as a full grown adult reading these books? Lemony Snicket being a character and not simply the author. I don’t know that I know many adult novels that are the particularly clever. And this is part of what I love so well about ASOUE, is that it is uniquely clever among children’s books, while still managing to remain within a child’s wheelhouse, and making good use of a formulaic book style, that allows children to experience the pleasure of getting “the same thing, but different’ which we all look for as adults, really. 

The way it handles grief and misery as given parts of the human experience absolutely floors me. It’s not a blink and you’ll miss it sort of thing, it’s woven through the fabric of the whole series, that the children lose over and over again, and that it absolutely affects them. But losing their parents from the outset doesn’t ruin them, and they don’t need to be rescued (Which is good, because they never are) they are their OWN rescuers. This isn’t a Cinderella story where some wish fulfilment comes out of the gloom. This is about the three of them having to band together, and save themselves. 

I love how the mystery gets deeper and more complicated as you go on, while still having to deal with the threat of Olaf. I love that a great deal of the mysteries are left unsolved, I love that we have no idea what happens to the Baudelaires. I love the sense of uncertainty that weaves itself throughout the piece, the way that it, like life, leaves us to tie up the loose ends. I think it’s such a valuable lesson as well as just a damn good series. 

I’ve talked, from time to time, about how I think this book, written by a Jewish man and stated to be about Jewish children, uses Count Olaf as a stand in for anti-Semitism. It strikes me so powerfully, how they can always recognize him, and how it should be obvious to anyone, but the adults REFUSE to see what it is until he tries to kill them again, ad then of course the adults promise that they will protect the children, again. And that, my friends, is a fucking Jewish-ass mood. Only they can see that the same threat is just now wearing a new disguise, over and over again. 

And that the children, after everything, have another orphan with them, another person that they must carry on, and the story really does not stop but just moves forward, I love that. They will care for Beatrice in a way that they themselves were never cared for. I think The End is a really strange book in a lot of ways, and how I feel about it very often comes down to the day, but I do love that. I love that the children are willing to be the protection they never had, and I think there’s something very winning in that. Despise everything, the children never become the evil that seeks them. I think that’s the most hopeful thing of all, and the most JEWISHLY hopeful thing of all, Not that they will be safe, but that they will be GOOD, against everything.

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 26: Point of No Return, Pt 2

When they arrived home, they found their kids and Emma watching a movie together, though it seemed like Emma wasn't able to pay attention to it. So once they dished out the ice cream for the kids, they joined Emma in the kitchen for hers.

"What's going on?" Margaret asked.

"It's a lot…" Emma replied.

"Which is why we brought all the ice cream. Come on...let's have it," David said. She sighed.

"Killian and I got a call this morning. They specifically wanted me on the case, because a passenger was on the roof of a building, threatening to jump," she revealed. Margaret gasped.

"Oh Emma…" she said, as she reached out to squeeze the blonde's hand.

"His name was Felix," she said, as David pulled him up on his tablet.

"He kept saying that people around him were dying and that it was his fault," she explained.

"You think he was having Callings?" David asked. She nodded.

"But he wasn't dealing with it well...and so when we talked to the bartender at the bar he frequented, we found out that a couple people that also frequented the bar recently died," she replied.

"That seems like more than a coincidence," Margaret mentioned.

"That's what I said. One was a heart attack and the other got hit with a stray, fallen power line. But it turns out that...Felix may have told both of these people about the Callings," she said, with trepidation.

"You're sure?" David asked. She nodded.

"Were you able to talk him down?" Margaret asked, but the raven haired beauty frowned when the blonde shook her head.

"No...he was convinced that he was the reason they were dead, so he ended it so no more people would die because of him," she said, as a fear tears fell from her eyes. They both got up and put their arms around her.

"I couldn't stop him…" she cried.

"Emma...that's not your fault," David stressed. She sniffed.

"I know...the bartender says that even before the plane, he wasn't a well adjusted person," she admitted.

"So getting Callings probably pushed him over the edge," David reasoned.

"That's not why I'm so upset…" she said.

"Then why are you?" Margaret asked, as her blue eyes met her green ones.

"Don't you see, MM? People around him that knew about the Callings died!" she exclaimed and then tried to lower her voice so as not to freak the kids out.

"You know about them...Killian knows and Olive knows!" she fretted and David got a very worried look on his face at that.

"That doesn't mean something bad is going to happen to us," Margaret reasoned, as she looked at her husband.

"David...that's not what this means," she insisted.

"And I want to believe that...but if you're in danger, because of the Callings…" he said, as he trailed off. The thought of that made him want to scream at the sky and plead to whatever force this was that it could not take her from him. It could not.

"David...you are not going to lose me," she insisted.

"But you lost me…" he said. A tear slipped down her cheek.

"I know...and it was the worst five years of mine and Ollie's lives. But now I know that we had to endure that...we had to in order to save our son from cancer," she replied.

"What if we're wrong? What if these Callings aren't doing the good we think they are?" he asked.

"But they are...we can't deny the good things that have come from them. We have to take the bad with the good," she insisted.

"I don't know, MM. There will be no good if we lose someone we love," Emma said.

"I know...but I also know that I'm supposed to know about the Callings. I can feel it," Margaret said. David sighed.

"She's right...and I would have never been able to keep secrets from her. It's just not how we're wired," David assured his sister.

"Maybe for you guys...but Killian and I are not together. If he's not supposed to know...and he dies, because of me, I can't live with that!" Emma said in exasperation.

"Lily died because of me...and now Killian might as well!" she exclaimed.

"Lily's death was an accident and you know that if you had let her drive that night that you would both probably be dead," David reasoned.

"He's right...and cutting Killian out now could be more dangerous. If you tell him that you suspect he might be in danger, at least he'll be aware and then he can make his own decisions," Margaret insisted.

"I don't know…" Emma fretted.

"Honey…" Margaret soothed.

"I know that you still love him...and I can't imagine what it's like to not be able to be with him," she said. Emma looked at her and hugged her gently.

"I love you, but you're right...you don't know what it's like. I'm glad you don't though," Emma said, as she went down to her room. Margaret put a hand to her heart, as she watched her go. It wasn't often that she wasn't able to comfort her best friend and she felt terrible about it.

"I wish we could help her with this," Margaret murmured, as she felt her husband put his arms around her from behind and kiss her hair.

"I know...but I don't think we can. Killian is married and you and I don't really have advice for this kind of situation," he said.

"God...if you were married to someone else, I think I'd lose my mind," Margaret lamented.

"I don't even want to think about being married to anyone else. That sounds like a nightmare…" he said, as she turned her head and he kissed her tenderly. She turned in his arms and slipped hers around his neck, as he kissed her deeply and passionately.

"Kids...it's time for bed. You have school in the morning," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. They joined hands and tucked their children in, with goodnight kisses. Then with purposeful strides, Margaret led him to their bedroom and their lips crashed together again once the door closed. They gasped for air, as their lips parted and they purposefully started undressing each other.

"What you went through...I'm still in awe that you did it. I'd never be strong enough," he rasped, before their lips met again.

"You are...you're my hero. You were still in my heart...I could still feel you, even though my brain told me it wasn't possible. But it was…" she said, as their lips met again.

"It was...and I'm in awe of you. But then I always have been," he confessed. She sniffed.

"And you've always been my Prince Charming...my hero," she gushed, as he swept her into his arms and deposited her on their bed. She pulled him down onto her and their insatiable, endless passion consumed them.

~*~

Emma found herself unable to sleep that night, so when she got the call from Killian, she was almost relieved. Until she arrived at the Rabbit Hole, only to find the bartender on duty that night...dead. It wasn't Will Scarlett that they had talked to earlier, but the night shift bartender.

"How did it happen?" she asked, as she arrived at the bar and observed the sheet that had been placed over the body, inside the storage room.

"Bartender came back to do inventory and the shelves collapsed. A large crate full of heavy glass bottles fell on him," Killian replied.

"Any chance he'd been talking to Felix before he died?" Emma asked.

"Uh...yeah, apparently they were friends," Killian replied and Emma sighed.

"That's it...I can't let you in on this stuff with the Callings anymore," she said.

"Emma...I already know, so cutting me out doesn't make sense," Killian reasoned.

"It does...because if you don't know anymore, maybe whatever this is won't see you as a threat," she said, as she walked away to start working on the report. He sighed and waited for the Coroner to arrive. He knew that he shouldn't care about being close to Emma. He was a married man, after all. But ever since Emma had been back, he found that his feelings for her had never truly gone away and he wasn't sure what he was going to do about it.

~*~

The next morning

"Did you have enough to eat, sweetie?" Margaret asked, as she was extra fussy over their son that morning.

"Yeah Mom...I'm stuffed, really," Henry replied, as he went to get his shoes on.

"Okay...if you're sure. Oh, I packed your lunches," she said, as she retrieved them from the refrigerator. David and Olive shared a smile.

"Mom...he'll be fine. I'll make sure he gets to his class okay and then we have the same lunch, so he can eat with me," Olive said. Margaret sighed.

"Thanks honey...I'm just so worried about him adjusting or people bugging him about being on the plane," she replied.

"I'll be fine, Mom. I know lots of kids are going to stare...but I really want to go back to school," Henry said bravely. Margaret hugged him again.

"Okay...and I guess Ollie will be near too so that makes me feel a bit better," she said. David smiled.

"Grab your stuff and I'll drop you both off," he said, as they got their lunches and headed out to the car, while he took her in his arms and they shared a passionate kiss.

"Have a good day," she said.

"You too...and if that reporter dares to show his face again…" he started to say and she kissed his cheek.

"You'll be my first call, my love and then Emma," she promised, as they shared another kiss and parted ways for the day.

~*~

David finished entering the newest stack for his boss and looked around, before accessing the UDS file again. He likely knew his time was now very limited. They would soon find out that the leak they had was coming from this accounting department, but he was determined to do whatever he had to in order to find the right building where he knew they were holding the missing passengers against their will. He noticed though that only five of the six possible locations they were looking at were in the system.

"That's it…" he realized, as he identified the one that had not been uploaded. Either they were slow in getting it into the system or this one was purposefully being kept off the books. He logged out and then stood up. He knew he likely had to get out now and even then, there was no guarantee they wouldn't come after him. But for now, he'd give them the slip.

"Hey…I finished those files for you, but I'm not feeling so well," David said, as he placed the folders on his boss' desk. Doc put his hand up.

"Say no more...whatever you have, no one wants it. Take a sick day," Doc said. David nodded and then slipped into the elevator, knowing he would likely never be back here.

"Vance...I think I know which building they're hiding the passengers in," he said into his phone, as he got into the car.

"I warned you not to go back in," Vance said in exasperation.

"I know...but I noticed that only five of the six newly purchased properties had been uploaded into the system. Either they're late or one of them is being purposefully delayed," David replied. There was silence on the other end, but he heard Gold in the background.

"That's good work...probably saves us days of searching," he mentioned.

"Stay out of this," Vance said.

"Send me the location," he said.

"I'll text it to you and I'll meet you there," David replied, as he hung up and smirked slightly, knowing that Vance was probably cussing him out right now.

~*~

Henry looked around nervously, as he held his lunch in one hand and milk in the other. So far, despite a few stares, his day had been good so far. His teacher was nice so far and hadn't made any fuss about the plane. Some of the other kids whispered and none seemed to want to talk to him yet, but he knew that would probably change. At least, he hoped it would. He saw Olive waving him over and he walked quickly to her table and sat down there. He recognized a few people, Nicholas included, that he and Olive had been friends with in Elementary school. They had grown though, while he was still ten. It was awkward at best.

"At least some things don't change. Still peanut butter and strawberry jelly," Nicholas mentioned fondly.

"And you're still eating bologna and cheese," Henry noticed.

"Uh bologna," Olive complained.

"She still hates bologna," Nicholas teased.

"PB and J will always be superior," Olive said.

"Agree to disagree, but you two always had the greatest snacks. I mean, my chips are good, but your Mom makes homemade stuff all the time," he said.

"And she knows you like brownies too, so she packed me an extra one," Henry replied, as he offered it to him. He smiled.

"Thanks…Olive never parts with any of her sweets," he said.

"Damn straight," she agreed, as she bit into her brownie and they laughed and continued to talk. Despite their friends all being older now, he found himself getting on well with them.

~*~

Margaret sat at her desk, grading papers during her free period and once she got through the stack, she checked her phone and smiled at the text from David. It was a quick one, telling her that he had found something and he was meeting Vance and that he would call her soon. As she was about to text back, she looked up and noticed Sidney Glass in her doorway.

"Oh my God...you don't know how to take a hint!" she hissed, as she pressed a button.

"Please Mrs. Nolan...I mean no harm and I truly believe you deserve to have your story heard," Sidney said.

"And I told you that my story is one of a love and intimacy with my husband that is unlike any other...but it's for us. We don't want or need the scrutiny of others. We had plenty of that growing up," Margaret replied.

"That is why this is such a unique story and one that should be told. Childhood sweethearts, real life true love that defied even death to reunite!" he said grandly.

"But true love doesn't sell newspapers. Scandal does and that's what you're truly interested in, so what is this really all about?" she asked, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Is it so hard to believe that I find your story fascinating?" he asked.

"I know our story is unique, but most people want to focus on how young David and I were and how irresponsible they think it was," she replied.

"True...but I find your family history fascinating too. I mean, you have to admit that it is very intriguing that your mother's once rival ended up marrying your father years after her death. And then add all your strife to be in a serious relationship so young, coupled with the plane and you have the stuff that daytime soaps only wish they had," Sidney pointed out. She looked at him with scrutiny.

"Wait...my mother and Cora weren't rivals. They knew each of each other, but not well. My mother never mentioned Cora and Cora said that they were aware of each other, but not much more than that," Margaret said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Because that is not what my research has turned up," Sidney replied, as she cautiously came closer to him.

"What research?" she asked.

"I can't just show you my research," he replied.

"I have a detective cop sister-in-law on speed dial and a husband that would love to punch your lights out," she reminded him.

"A very good point…" he said, as he showed her an old article on his tablet. It was a picture of her parents with Cora and a man that she assumed was Regina's father.

"They ran in the same social circle...and your father chose to marry your mother over her," Sidney revealed, as she scanned the article.

"Can...can you send this to me?" Margaret asked.

"Certainly…I am sorry if this comes as a shock to you, but it seems that Cora was not fond of your mother and always felt slighted by her. Now, I hope you and your husband will reconsider an interview for my article," Sidney replied, as he sent it to her with the email provided and quietly left with a smirk on his face. He now knew that Margaret would likely lash out at her father and new step-mother again. Either way, he would definitely get a story on her and Cora would be very pleased.

~*~

David and Emma arrived on the scene and spotted an unmarked utility van in the vicinity. The side door opened and they slipped in.

"Is this the place?" Emma asked.

"We weren't sure, until Dr. Jenkin himself stepped out five minutes ago. I think it's safe to say that we have the right facility," Gold said.

"Then what are we waiting for?" David asked, as he was anxious to go in.

"Not yet...if we don't do this right, the whole thing could easily blow up in our faces," Vance replied. David wanted to protest, but knew he was right.

"Well, I can go back to the station and dig up dirt on this Jenkins guy, unless you've done that already?" Emma asked.

"We haven't," Vance replied, as he looked at Gold.

"Why not?" David asked.

"Because I don't trust the NSA or rather everyone in it. If a search on Dr. Jenkins is registered, someone may tip him off," Gold replied.

"You think you have a leak inside?" Emma asked.

"As much as I hate to think about it...yes. A search by the NYPD would most likely go unnoticed," Vance replied.

"I'll get on it," Emma confirmed.

"So what now?" David asked.

"We wait for the right moment. For now, you go home and be with your family," Vance replied. David nodded and didn't protest at that, as he followed Emma back to her car.

Dr. Jenkins pressed the end button on his smartphone and observed the newly set up operation from the floor above. He had just informed his contact that they were set up in their new facility and were almost ready to begin again. Marko winced in pain, as they began to get him ready for more experiments and across the city, inside a house, Henry Nolan winced in pain as well...

[raybyanothername]

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Fuller House (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jackson Fuller/Ramona Gibbler Characters: Jackson Fuller, Ramona Gibbler, Bobby Popko (Fuller House), Lola (Fuller House), Gia Mahan, D. J. Tanner, Michelle Tanner Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Problems, Scent Marking, Scenting, Pheromones, Knotting, Puberty, Angst and Feels, Grief/Mourning, Slow Burn Series: Part 2 of Alpha Jackson Summary:

Jackson's continued adventures at figuring out this whole alpha thing. And complaining about it.

Basically every trope from A/B/O fanfiction turned into a punchline. Because puberty sucks for everyone. Its a rule.

-.-.-

Chapter 14: Cookies are a Legitimate Coping Mechanism

The cold air of San Francisco poured in from the open window in the kitchen. It seared across Jackson's too warm skin as he plopped down at the table.

3am is the best time for breakfast.

"Awake again, insomniac?" Michelle groused as she climbed the stairs from the garage with narrowed eyes and reindeer pajamas.

"Sleep is for those with decent coping skills," Jackson grinned as he glanced down to see that Michelle's pajamas had feet on them. "If the last week has proven anything, it's that neither of us inherited those."

Michelle rolled her eyes, "There is only room for one snarky alpha in this house." She shoved his head down lightly and sat in the chair next to him.

The plate of snacks he'd nicked from the fridge was slid closer as Michelle kicked her feet up.

"Alright Baby Alpha," Michelle sighed, cookie rising to her lips, "Make like T Swift said and calm down."

It was perhaps the lamest alpha command Michelle had tried yet. It hadn't worked any better than the others she'd tried on him, but it did make Jackson smile.

"I think the offer to smother me with pheromones had more of an effect?" Jackson offered. Michelle wrinkled her nose.

"That was a threat, Jacks, not an offer," Michelle gestured with a pretzel stick before biting it in half. She spoke around her chewing, "And your amusement is not appreciated."

Jackson grabbed a cookie and shrugged, "You're the one that keeps trying to whammy me."

The second half of the pretzel hit his head.

"Not my fault I'm impervious," Jackson grinned around a mouth full of cookie. Michelle snorted, shook her head.

A whole week of midnight bonding with his aunt had taught Jackson several things. 1) Michelle didn't sleep much. 2) Her alpha abilities were either useless against him or her cancer was starting to mess with them. 3) She wouldn't admit to any of that. Even when bribed with all manner of stolen Christmas desserts!

"So, you saw your alpha doc yesterday right?" Michelle asked, brow raised and eyes focused on Jackson.

Jackson, very confidently, did not choke on his cookie. It just got caught in his throat a little.

Michelle snickered, eyes crinkling as she smiled, "I'd apologize, but I'm obviously not sorry." Jackson glared at her as he reached for his glass of milk. Michelle shrugged, "In my defense, your mom wanted me to ask."

"Uh, she was there," Jackson narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. His arms gestured out, "She even brought up my knots, again! As if it wasn't humiliating enough talking about pheromones and how I triggered Ramona's heat!"

With arms crossed over the table, Michelle leaned forward. She didn't say anything. Just kept her face angled towards him as Jackson kept talking.

"He wants me to track Every time my instincts are triggered!" Jackson hands were flying now, a glower focused on the wall. "As if I even recognize the trigger half of the time!"

"Pretty sure that's the point of tracking it," Michelle chuckled, eyes closing for a moment as she sighed. Jackson frowned.

He did not appreciate reason during his rants.

Michelle's arms rose up, cupping her face as she propped up her elbows. She stuck her tongue out at Jackson, "That, and he wants to map out who your brain is classifying as 'pack' now. With no active scent marks, you're hormones still all wonky, it could be… what was the word DJ used… 'enlightening?'"

Yeah. Ngo wasn't even hiding his data collection for that paper now. He hadn't stopped scribbling throughout the whole damn appointment.

"You get anything useful out of it at least?" Michelle's elbow shot out to nudge his arm.

Jackson blushed.

The answer was yes. But finding out his attraction to Ramona was wholly teenage drama and not a remnant of the scent mark? Not something he was planning to share.

With anyone.

Not Ngo. Not Popko. Definitely not anyone with Tanner as their last name.

"You still tracking Ramona's scent like a bloodhound?" Michelle asked as she reached for a cookie.

Michelle was magic.

Possibly, she'd traded her soul for it because she seemed to give zero fucks about… well, most things.

Maybe that was just the dying thing?

"I will take your silence as confirmation," Michelle bit the cookie in half. Jackson watched her teeth sink into it.

The sharpness of her teeth was disconcerting as they eviscerated the chewy cookie.

“Have you ever…” Jackson trailed off as Michelle reached for a carrot stick now that the cookies were gone. It broke in half between her back molars. Jackson cleared his throat, “...scent-marked someone before?”

“Yup,” Michelle nodded, chewed her carrot. She was staring at him, eyes lulling and face flat.

Jackson groaned, “You’re gonna make me ask?” He looked at her, eyes wide. His puppy dog looks were significantly less effective now.

Or maybe Michelle was just immune to their effects…

“Watching you suffer brings me joy,” Michelle didn’t crack a smile even with her sarcasm dripping all over the room.

Jackson huffed. Definitely immune.

“What happened when you scent-marked? Was it as complicated and awkward as -”

Michelle snorted, her face finally breaking into a grin, “No Alpha in the history of Alphas has probably had this awkward of a presentation.” Michelle pointed her next carrot at him, then frowned at it, “Seriously, why are there not more cookies in this house?”

“If I get you more cookies, will you be helpful?” Jackson narrowed his eyes. Michelle turned her head, giving him a side-eye.

“Are you telling me there are more cookies?”

Max’s secret stash was easy enough to find and pillage. He set the Chip Ahoys bag in front of Michelle and she immediately held it to her chest like it was a baby.

Jackson snickered, “Okay, I get it, you love cookies, can we get with the storytime now?”

“How Rude…” Michelle muttered as she set the cookies back on the table and opened them. Jackson rolled his eyes. She huffed, “Fine~”

Finally!

“It wasn’t anything romantic,” Michelle shrugged, smirking at him as she brought a cookie to her lips, “So it’s not quite the same.”

Low blow. So rude.

“But yeah, my first pheromone party, I marked this girl I went to college with. It took me about a week to figure out why I was getting these nasty headaches," Michelle gestured with her hands as she spoke.

It may or may not have been a ploy to distract him from looking at her face. Which was twice as expressive as usual.

“Luckily, she was a beta, so it wasn’t quite as dramatic on her end.”

Annoyance flashed across Michelle’s face and her next bite of cookie ended with a particularly loud snap.

“So… what happened?” Jackson asked when Michelle quietly chewed her cookie with a pinched expression.

“Oh, she’s my assistant now,” Michelle shrugged, brows rising, “She texted me an hour ago to nag me about sleeping. Apparently I’m keeping her up with all my late night emails.”

Jackson’s face froze. His nose wrinkled.

That was not where he was expecting that story to go.

“Are you saying you’re still scent-marking her?”

Michelle gestured wide with the bag of cookies, “It makes it easy to keep track of her at shows?”

Lies. Definite lies.

Narrowing his eyes, Jackson scooted closer.

Michelle rolled her eyes, “Okay, so maybe it’s impossible to remove a scent-mark from a beta and now she’s stuck with me.”

“So…” Jackson spoke slowly, nose still wrinkled, “...all scent-marking is complicated.”

“Well, duh, dude,” Michelle snorted, “You’re literally coating them with your scent to the point that it becomes part of theirs? Outside of a honeymoon, that level of proximity and closeness is usually deemed a bit inappropriate.”

True.

Annoyingly true.

Jackson blushed, ideas in his head slamming into each other like pro wrestlers.

Michelle cackled beside him and Jackson jumped at the sound. She smirked, “Interestingly, your scent still gets all peppery when you’re freaking out.” She leaned forward, eyebrows wiggling, “Anything you’d like to share, nephew?”

“Uh…” Jackson’s mouth fell open and he blinked a few times, head tilting, “...no?”

“Wow,” Michelle’s forehead wrinkled, “You really are a shit liar.”

“Hey!” Jackson yelped, lips puckering in a pout.

She flicked his forehead.

Mean.

Jackson rubbed at the spot on his head, “Aren’t you suppose to be offering me advice and wisdom?”

“That’s your mom’s department,” Michelle waved her hand in the general direction of the stairs and then towards the Gibbler house next door, “Stephanie is sarcasm and witty comebacks.”

“And you?” Jackson asked, when Michelle dropped her arm and grabbed another cookie.

Michelle leaned towards him, smile plastered on her face, “I’m annoying.”

The laughter came out before he could stop himself. Bursting out of his chest like air from a balloon.

“See, sometimes annoying is helpful,” Michelle sniffed the air, “I can’t smell the peppers anymore.”

That did not bring him any degree of comfort.

Maybe Michelle’s nose was going? Yeah. That could be it.

Not that Jackson wanted to smell like Ramona. He just wanted her to smell like him. Wait! No…

Okay. Maybe a little bit.

But she was back on the suppressant now and it literally made him gag, so who could blame him?

“Nope, take it back,” Michelle shoved at his head, pushing him away from her, “There it is again.”

Definitely not her nose going then.

-.-.-

If you enjoyed this chapter and are feeling generous: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername

This chapter was finished during one of my live-writing sessions over on twitch! Feel free to drop by. :)

[apprenticenerd]

"Anyone can send me an ask with one of the titles and I’ll post a snippet or talk about that WIP!" The Acropolis, Tacet, Checklist, A Tiny Galaxy, Hearsay, Going Back, Ella Disenchanted, Making Peace, The Slashed Circle, Wake Up, Tenno, Midnight, Heliotropism, Arrhythmia, the one about Among Us, the one about Library of Ruina, the one that’s a D&D world concept. Yes, all of them. I know you wanna talk about all of them. So go, go forth and do it!

Hoooo boy, this is gonna be a long post. Lots and lots of writing snippets under the cut to avoid dash stretch!

The Acropolis - original - length uncertain - 1.4k and counting

im not ready for this im not i thought it would be yrs i thought id at least get an english degree first

omg sal whats goin on

fuckin hell whyd it have to be now i have a chem lab tomorrow

sally-tate macpherson. u never swear. ever. wtf is goin on.

ok. jess. i need u to listen really really carefully. understand?

answer the goddamn question ur scarin me

shut up and listen and this will go a lot better

fine but u need to tell me wtf is happnenig

ok. im going to tell you a bunch of stuff. not giving u advice, thats not allowed, but im gonna tell u stuff it seems like itd be impossible for me to know.

?????????????

i said shut up this is really important dont question how i know it. just go with it and figure out what to do. and dont die. bc no matter how crazy stuff seems, if u die, ur dead. here and everywhere. ok?

This is an original story coming straight from a @/writing-prompt-s prompt about a crack in a kid’s hardwood floor that they fantasized was a portal actually being one. I originally intended to write the entire thing like this, as a conversation over text, but that may not be feasible given a certain world-building detail at the other end of the portal (and the limits of my creativity lmao).

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Tacet - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 3.2k and counting

She closed her eyes again, and there it was. Hallucination? Some new science trick with electromagnetic radiation off the visible spectrum? Evidence that she was actually going insane? Whatever it was, it burned behind her eyelids in bright, incontrovertible red - and was completely invisible when she opened her eyes again. There was just the usual mess of club posters and one big one about someone’s exceedingly dumb-looking lost cat.

Eyes open, there was only Sargent Snuggles. Eyes closed, there was the normal darkness and then three lines of text where the poster had been, wavering like scarlet fire:

JOIN TBC JOIN TBC JOIN TBC

TBC? What the fuck was that? She’d never heard of any group with that acronym before. Hardly aware of the flurry of weird looks from half the other people in the hallway, she crossed the hall to examine the lost cat poster more closely. It felt like perfectly normal paper when she touched it, and there wasn’t even a hint of red with her eyes open, unless you counted the cat’s tacky pink sweater. How the hell was this even possible?

“You’re finally cracking, Bri,” she groaned under her breath, then headed for her locker. She did have to get home. Add another big fat entry to the weird shit list.

A backstory one-shot for my Blackout Club OC Briar, telling the story of how she got into the club in the first place. I’ve been stuck in the same spot for a while now, after Briar’s friend Dani explains the club to her, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the scene’s over as is. Of course, writing the next one is the tough part.

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Checklist - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 1.7k and counting

8. You still have a headache. Shouldn’t you go back to sleep and try to do this in the morning?

9. (wake up)

10. Nah, you’ve always been a night owl, and school starts criminally early, too early to get much done beforehand. It’s quiet, except for Dad snoring. Your parents are asleep already. You can stay up until this is done, and they’ll be none the wiser.

11. Your head hurts worse. It’s getting harder to think. At only 9 pm? 9:30? Whatever. You should sleep.

12. (wake UP)

13. What are you thinking? You have to read at least a little of this chapter, or there’s no way you’ll be able to bullshit your way through class tomorrow. Besides, all of a sudden, the silence feels...strange. Heavier? You can’t describe it.

14. You need to sleep. You need a drink of water or something. You need to finish this damn homework. You need to sleep. You need to sleep.

15. Stare at The Great Gatsby. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

16. Realize what’s up with the silence. Dad’s not snoring anymore. You aren’t feeling like yourself. You need to sleep.

17. Something’s weird.

18. (WAKE UP) 

19. ...No. Something’s wrong.

Another Blackout Club story and another Interface Screw, as it were, this time in the form of a (very long) checklist. None of the characters have names (yet). It describes another way a kid could find themself running around at night with the Blackout Club, this time by fighting off the Song just enough to run into a club member who could wake them up the rest of the way. As with Tacet, I still need to write the suspenseful part.

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A Tiny Galaxy - Warframe - 4 chapters planned, 1 complete, 1 in progress - 7.8k and counting

Try it if you don’t believe me, the kid in the vent had said.

It was impossible. It was physically impossible. All of this was impossible. Had the Void...? Could the Void...?

The ship was at a standstill. Her mother had tried to kill her, and something had happened. She’d made something happen. There had been no holoprojector in that kid’s hand. Nothing was impossible anymore.

Jhia took a deep breath. How the heck was she supposed to do this? Was she supposed to feel something, some internal guide? Blue Hair hadn’t said. Feeling incredibly stupid, she did a quick mental checkup on herself. Nothing felt wrong, or different - but now that she thought about it…

Afterward, she would try many times to explain it, and fail every time. The best she could come up with was that once she found the Void, calling on it was as easy and as natural as breathing. She opened her hands in front of her, concentrated on that force like an extension of herself, reopened her eyes, and there it was: a riotous little ball of energy, wisps and motes of light and not-quite-light like a tiny galaxy, the Tau system in the palm of her hand, raging.

More OC backstory time! This one’s for my Tenno, a nerdy fourteen-year-old (at the time of this story, anyway) by the name of Jhia, going through the hell that is the Zariman Ten-Zero and what happened on it. This is possibly the first part of the story I actually wrote: the roll-credits moment when Jhia realizes the Void’s changed her more already than she thought.

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Hearsay - Lobotomy Corporation/Library of Ruina - one-shot - 1k and counting

"Oh? Did they investigate further?"

"They tried. Found a few fingerprints, but they didn't match anyone in the database."

"What's the update, then?"

"Reports from elsewhere in the district of someone not in uniform carrying a Zwei sword. They're slippery, good at avoiding us, which would suggest Syndicate operative to me and HQ. Except that in every one of the descriptions we managed to get, our sword thief is a child."

"What? How?!"

"You tell me, Iona. You're the one who went to the crime scene."

"Right... Jeez, if it's a kid, I guess that'd explain why Petrov thought they weren't a threat..."

"My thoughts exactly. HQ has a fair amount of hearsay to go on, but nobody can quite agree on how old the child is, or whether or not she's with a Syndicate. Most agree that she appears to be a girl, tall for a child, auburn hair, clothes and demeanor typical of a Backstreets native."

"We got a name?"

"They've heard Yeri, Kali, Redbird, Suma, Aelfin... No one knows which is her real one, or if it's even any of them at all."

"Damn. ...Say, are you going to drink that entire pot of coffee?"

"Help yourself."

This is one of those stories that turned into an accidental AU when more of canon came out. The idea behind it is that it’s Kali’s backstory told entirely in conversations in which she did not participate, showcasing the fact that a Fixer’s fame is their livelihood and Kali was about as famous as they come, before the whole L Corp thing happened. Of course, the vast majority of the headcanons here got invalidated with a certain Ruina update, so my motivation’s kinda down on this one.

---

Going Back has already been talked about here!

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Ella Disenchanted - The Blackout Club - one-shot (maybe two-shot??) - 1.4k and counting

She woke. Her stomach went through a series of panicked flip-flops as she thought something strange had done it, Dad or a little-kid-nightmares shadow beast had made noise, but no - why had she fallen asleep in the first place? Her butt and shoulder were sore where they’d been leaning on the bottom and side of the windowsill, presumably all night, since the sun was full up over the trees on Old Growth Hill. 

All night. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall asleep, but she did anyway. God dammit.

As she unfolded herself from her cramped ball, though, she froze. Under the comforter she’d pulled around her shoulders for warmth, she was wearing her gray jacket, a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers getting dried mud all over the carpet. 

Last she remembered, she’d been in her pajamas.

In which a Blackout Club kid’s little sister wonders where he’s gone when he runs away to the boxcar, and tries to get to the bottom of the mystery herself. Usually she’d be too young for the club to recruit, but her investigations and an incident involving SAO are more than enough extenuating circumstance. Unlike most of my other WIPs, there’s a whole outline at the end of my doc for this one.

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Making Peace - Warframe - multi-chapter - 1.5k and counting

“I…” Iksoh finally said. “Sorna, I hope you realize. I’m not into this. I never - I’m not doing this. Whatever you’re doing, I can’t.”

“I know,” Sorna said softly. The decision tore at her heart again and she almost backed out of the vent, but no. She had to go. She wouldn’t see another innocent crumple in her rifle sights. “I hope you realize. I’m not coming back.”

Behind her, Iksoh let out a long, shaky breath. “It’s taking all I’ve got not to report you right now. Sorna… the Queens’ll have my head for this. Please, please, let it be worth it. Go. Don’t let them take yours.”

“I won’t,” Sorna promised, and meant it.

Later, after her last fight for her freedom was done, on the Steel Meridian ship headed for Kronia Relay, Sorna looked out at the planet retreating behind her and thought of Iksoh. She’d just learned a new word from a Meridian soldier: vaykor tal, the defector’s spirit. Iksoh had let her go, at risk of their own life. They’d had a bit of the vaykor tal themself, even if they hadn’t known it, even if they’d thought it was just some weakness that was bound to get them killed.

“Ranre treri, duf krun,” she whispered into space, a Grineer well-wishing passed down from sergeant to tube-fresh lancer since time immemorial. May your hands be steady, and may life be kind.

This is an AU born of me and some friends wondering why in the heck Perrin and the Meridian hate each other so much in game. It’s about a group of Kavor - Grineer defectors distinguished from other Meridian members by their pacifism - who get to a Relay and start wondering the same thing. Besides Sorna (and, later in the story, Iksoh as well), there would have been Chakh, Beket, and Sydon, plus at least four of the syndicate leaders and a bunch of side-character OCs, all caught up somehow in what turns out to be a surprisingly far-reaching web of intrigue.

--

The Slashed Circle - Warframe - one-shot, probably - 429 and counting

In addition to their written and spoken language, the Grineer have a full language of hand signs. It has its quirks, as all languages do - be careful of confusing it with the Corpus sign language, in which the sign for “to pay” roughly approximates the Grineer sign for...a certain portion of the male anatomy. Among these is the common Grineer sentiment against those who defect from their ranks, baked into the sign just as much as their spoken words. 

The sign of the slashed circle, the sedashkur - a finger drawn in a circle on the chest, followed by a diagonal line - is the highest of taboos to any loyal Grineer. It shows support for such scum as the Kavor and Steel Meridian, enough so that it forms the basis for the Meridian’s battle standard. To sign the sedashkur is to betray your siblings, commit a grave insult to your superiors, paint a near-indelible target on your back. It is an object of hatred and fear throughout the ranks.

She fears it, yes, but she does not hate it, for all her life and into her death as well. It shouldn’t trouble her now, though. It is easy to hide a language, and she burned her journals before she was called to the fortress.

This is a fic about Jhia and her one (1) converted Kuva Lich, namely about the process of said Lich’s defeat and defection, that kinda never got off the ground. Contrary to this snippet, I think most of it would have been written in what are essentially space emails back and forth between Lich and Tenno? I definitely got as far as Jhia sending an audio recording of a bass-boosted dog fart, anyhow.

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Wake Up, Tenno - Warframe - one-shot - 950 and counting

“Wake up, Tenno.”

She wakes. She is - she is Tenno, right? She is a Tenno? Her mind is confused, so full of fog and dead ends - how long was she asleep?

The voice that woke her seems familiar. She might have loved the speaker, in her scrambled past life, the woman in the purple helmet, the one called Lotus in her HUD vision. Her surroundings are a ruin of some sort. Her body is—

...what?

She can move just fine. Her fingers and arms and legs respond with suspicious ease, given how long she must have slept to be this scattered upon waking up, and yet there’s some fundamental disconnect. This is her Warframe, her body, but it’s not her body somehow.

...wait, where did the term “Warframe” come from?

A Tenno, unnamed but intended to be Jhia on my end, wakes up on Earth at the very beginning of the in-game storyline. Since the tutorial has gotten an overhaul in recent months, I may have to modify even what little I have on this a lot.

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Midnight - Iconoclasts - poem - 280 and counting

been anything smaller than been anything

never been anything smaller than

“good morning, how’s miss grump doing today? i heard about that last mission...if you didn’t sleep well i can call you in sick, it’s alright-” “oh, shut up, grey”

there has never been anything

“oh, shut up, grey” “love you too”

smaller

“love you too”

than

me

A very fragmented, stream-of-consciousness-y poem meant to represent Agent Black’s failing sanity near the end of the game. The words of her famous one-liner (“there has never been anything smaller than me”) are interspersed, out of order until the end, with poetic descriptions of other characters and bits and pieces of a flashback involving Agent Grey.

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Heliotropism - Iconoclasts - one-shot - 1.1k and counting

Lily, though she’s superstitious, will have none of these self-important truths, none of these semblances of certainty when really all it is is wishing on Ivory and hoping for the best. She calls for Miss Andress instead. 

A stout but severe woman with ten grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way, Miss Andress is perhaps the quintessential matriarch: nurturing, selfless, brutally honest. She is the one the people of 17 trust when they feel they can trust no one else. Lily needs the kind of reassurance only she can give, with the authority of ninety-one years and the wisdom of two sons, one daughter, and some five dogs raised under her care.

When Miss Andress visits House 4, she asks Polro and Lily to each bring an object they cherish the most. For Polro it’s his largest wrench, pitted with use but still polished to a brassy shine; Lily surprises everyone by pulling out a tiny, unloaded stun-gun, and surprises them more by not explaining it at all. Miss Andress doesn’t question it. She just turns the two tools over and over in her hands, head bowed, squinting at them as if trying to read the secrets of the universe in the scratches carved into them by time.

Finally she straightens up and sighs, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her forehead is slick with sweat, though the night is cool outside. “I don’t know what she’ll do,” the wise woman says, heavily, as if delivering bad news. “I just know she’ll change the world.”

Can you tell I like backstory fic? This one is for Robin, with one short anecdote for each year of her life, up to age 17 and the events of the game. It’s also an excuse to world-build a bunch, lol.

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Arrhythmia - Crypt of the NecroDancer - one-shot(?) - 4k and counting

The creature didn’t say anything, just beckoned to the shadows. Before I could move, two other creatures came for me, sending the other humans - former humans? - scrambling away in panic. One landed a hard blow on the back of my head that sent me to my hands and knees, seeing sparks; the other said “Freeze!” and I could only watch as ice sprouted from the leaf litter, cementing me to the ground.

The one who’d hit me produced a dagger from the inside of its cloak. I tried to pull myself up, to do anything at all to keep myself from getting shanked, but it was no good. There must have been a secondary effect on that spell; my limbs wouldn’t respond. I felt the dagger tear cloth in the region of my back, and prepared for the pain.

It didn’t come. The creature cut a slit in the back of my tunic, then another. Neither one touched the skin at all. I can’t really describe what happened next - my brain was having trouble computing how my arms were in front of me, visible, unable to move, but it felt like the creature was pulling them through the gashes in my tunic, but that was wrong, they didn’t feel like arms at all.

“Holy fuck,” I heard someone say.

The ice holding me down melted into nothing as the spell wore off. I jumped back up, head spinning a little, ready for another fight, only to spot two flicks of scarlet in my peripheral vision. I spun around, but they moved with me.

I think I already knew what they were. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.

You’ve already seen this one, Nick, though I’m pretty sure it was well over two years ago. It’s a pile of old headcanons, some of them now outdated I’m pretty sure, about how Nocturna ended up a vampire in the first place and a little bit about how vampire society works. According to Google Docs, I’ve been stuck on this one since March 2018. Whoops.

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untitled (working title “adult citra meets an impostor bc what is self-control”) - Among Us - one-shot - 572 and counting

“I know. You’re stuck, aren’t you?” Having well and truly gotten their full attention, Citra continues, “God, I can barely imagine. Having to take a weird-ass host whose biology might even be toxic to you, I don’t know. Needing to get to a whole other galaxy, feeling like the only way to do that is by deception and death.” “How…?”

She sighs. “I told you, this isn’t my first rodeo. One of your kind saved my life when I was a kid. Since he’d killed Mom and Dad had been out of the picture long before, he stayed here and helped raise me afterward. It’s how I learned to pronounce...a few of your words, at least.”

“You missed the ‘H’ sound.”

“Isn’t that the one that’s literally impossible to do right with Terran anatomy?”

“Maybe. You think I know Terran anatomy all that well?”

Citra chuckles. “Fair point. You let us find your buddy and fix the ship, I’ll raise Xai when we get comms back and he can try and help you get home. Deal?”

I found an Among Us comic on Tumblr, absolutely ran into left field with it to make a couple of OCs, and then made AUs of those OCs because of course I did. This one is from a future scenario in which Citra (typically orange) meets someone rather familiar on a mission with the crew of the Skeld.

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untitled (working title “library of ruina but they adopt half the guests”) - Library of Ruina - length uncertain - 1k and counting

“And what happened to not caring about others because it’s a waste of time and heartache?”

Now it’s Roland’s turn to sigh. “I don’t care about him. I just don’t want the guilt of killing - look at him, he can’t be older than eighteen or nineteen!”

Raised eyebrow. “Finn will be twenty years old in fifteen days’ time. He is a legal adult. I fail to see why this should matter to either of us.”

“He’s fresh off his first Fixer license! I have years of experience! He had no idea what he was getting into when he signed that invitation and you know it!”

Angela fixes him with a glare that turns his stomach, his freshly remade body reacting to the memory of its sudden, and extremely painful, dismemberment. “I could quite literally hold your soul in my hands if I wanted,” she reminds him in an undertone of steel. “I must do the same for him, following the invitation’s guidance, or my entire plan will be lost, my coworkers’ sacrifices all for naught. Do not disappoint me or ask any more impertinent questions. You know what to do, and what will happen if you do not.” 

Look, some of the people you fight in this game deserved so much better, okay? I came up with an AU concept where if a guest willingly concedes the fight and agrees to stick around, you can get their book without killing them. Finn doesn’t die; neither do Tomerry or Shi Association; all the former employees realize exactly what’s going on with Philip after the Wedge Office fight and manage to calm him down, avoiding the whole Crying Children situation. (And then Gebura makes him collect his jaw off the floor by revealing herself as the Red Mist.)

---

The one that’s a D&D world concept doesn’t have anything concrete written for it yet. (Don’t read this bit if you might want to play in my campaign at some point!) Instead of your typical Forgotten Realms planar setup, the world at large would be called the Seven Spheres, each of them different in terms of climate, geography, native species and magic, etc. The First Sphere would be the most “generic” one (to our way of thinking) and the main setting of the campaign; it would also be the smallest of the Seven, its primary continent home to a former empire of dragons that spanned most of the Sphere until its mysterious fall a thousand years ago.

Now, since the empire fell, the dragons and their children have slowly been dying out. Best estimates are that there’s only a thousand or two left in the entire First Sphere, with fewer eggs hatched every decade. The player characters enter a world with pretty typical low-level quests to start with, but every so often, especially if they engage with optional story stuff (this would be a more roleplay-focused than combat-focused campaign), they get wind of changes in the air - a failed harvest here, an unusually hot and stormy summer there, a trade war once they start hitting mid-levels.

It mimics real-world climate change in all but cause. As coastal cities struggle to contend with rising seas and, more alarmingly, wizards all over the Sphere start to notice their magic falter and wane, the PCs’ goal becomes getting to the bottom of this. And what’s at the bottom is...your typical Nerd fusion of science with fantasy settings.

The Seven Spheres are not planes of existence in the normal D&D sense, but seven planets in the same solar system, each with its own ancient god far more powerful than any god in any mortal pantheon; the First Sphere is so named because it’s closest to the sun. These planetary gods are incredibly large and incredibly alien, thinking in geologic time and concepts far too broad and slow for most sapient beings to comprehend. A thousand years ago, the fall of the dragon empire was caused by an ill-advised ritual meddling with the god of the First Sphere’s natural process of rebirth, causing said god to die without a replacement.

It’s taken this long for the First Sphere to feel the effects because, again, geologic time - a thousand years is a blink of an eye in this kind of time scale. But now the ancient earth-magic that had kept the Sphere’s climate temperate and its magicians in business is failing. The dragons, as beings of magic intrinsically, have been failing all along. And now it’s up to the PCs, up at level 17-20 if not higher by that point, to figure out how to fix the situation and find a new planetary god for the First Sphere before the whole Sphere burns to death.

[unwoundvisions]

Pirate Villains Tags + Info

I assumed we would want tags for them at some point so I went ahead made some. I used there last names because they just sound more intimating: 

⇝ deadly chisaki

⤜ obsessive toga

 ✸ anarchic dabi

⥼ dastardly beck

⤷ wicked bolton

⤀ feral hargove

I also thought I’d post some information about the characters you aren’t  familiar. I would have done this on the doc but it was giving me trouble so now we get a big post.

Let us begin with Kai Chisaki.

Simple summery: Germaphobe who sees super powers as a illness and wants to rid it from the world while also making the gang he was raised in super successful and respected again (funny how he wanted to do that but was somehow okay with getting to keep his own powers). He’s a truly vile piece of garbage. I’m still going to post some of the stuff about his personality from the Wiki here because it’s helpful: 

“Overhaul is a mysophobic, antisocial sociopath obsessed with returning the world to the way it was before the Quirk phenomenon (aka super power phenomena). Due to a combination of an old theory claiming Quirks derived from rats and his own mysophobia, Overhaul believes that Quirks are actually a plague on humanity, having infected people with "syndromes" of heroism and villainy. He looks down upon those that use their abilities for either purpose, referring to acts of heroic sacrifice or petty crime as "sicknesses". Overhaul is extremely determined to his ambition of eradicating Quirks, not only due to his own personal phobias, but also because such a thing would allow the yakuza  (his gang) to reclaim the power they once held over society. Overhaul has no moral compass and an enormous ego, viewing himself as the only person in the world that's enlightened to the "true nature" of Quirks and deserving of the spot as ruler of the underworld.  As the leader of the Shie Hassaikai (that’s just the name of the gang)  Overhaul is usually levelheaded, thinks strategically, and, according to a conversation with Twice, seems to be nice at first. Whether he is acting or behaving genuinely, Overhaul does possess polite mannerisms and can come off as very calm and classy even to people he considers potentially troublesome. If aggravated, however, he may end up displaying a powerful and visible killing intent, more fitting of his true character. Overhaul is very germophobic and hates anything he perceives as unsanitary, frequently remarking about the unclean appearances of certain people and locations. He refuses to be touched by others, or even breathe in the same air as theirs, which is one of the reasons he wears an air-filtering plague doctor mask and forces his subordinates to do the same while around him (don’t see a need for him to do that in our fic). If blood, dirt or some other unclean substance comes in contact with Overhaul's person, he will start developing hives and lose his usual composure, becoming increasingly unhinged as a result. In drastic circumstances though, Overhaul will let go of his aversions in order to crush an enemy that's standing on his way, either due to pragmatism or out of sheer hatred. Overhaul doesn’t value humans, viewing people as pawns for their utilitarian value and being willing to experiment on them to accomplish his objectives. He carries this sentiment even towards the other members of the organization he has dedicating himself to since childhood, treating them as expendable sacrifices for his well-being and having no qualms in killing them off for the smallest mistakes. The masks worn by his closest subordinates also serve as a reminder of this mindset; he doesn't view them as worthy of sharing the same air as his. Even Eri, the centerpiece of his operations, is not spared from this brutal way of thinking as he frequently shames and abuses her through threats and guilt trips, seemingly as a method to force subservience on her mind ((They really glossed over Eri here. She was a girl he abused since she was a baby until she was around like 7 years old. Literally, kept her locked up, called her cursed human, drained her blood all the time and he regularly killed and brought her back ((which is something he can do with his power)) to life just to keep getting fresh blood out of her. Of course, in the name of the “greater good.” I fucking hate him.) As a young yakuza, Kai was extremely ruthless and would kill anyone who didn't show the Shie Hassaikai the proper respect, constantly getting into fights with rival gangs. Kai's boss, who was growing aware of the violent, immoral path his underling was following to uphold the name of the Shie Hassaikai, attempted to sway him towards a more honorable course, but to no avail; Kai became more and more convinced that illegal, questionable dealings were the only way the yakuza could ever restore their former honor. In the end, Overhaul's failure to recognize others and his own obstinate nature result in his downfall. Despite his strong-willed attitude, he is capable of expressing true fear and shock, especially post-defeat..

And if you ever need to know like how he speaks and his mannerisms you can skip around this video. Totally don’t have to but I wanted to share it just in case it may be useful: 

Now as for what I thought his motivates could be in our fic: 

Since he obviously can’t be obsessed with getting rid of super power, we need to change his character a tiny bit. I thought that in our world he can have a big thing against pirates who don’t have ambitious goals. Let’s say a pirate want to evade authorities and maybe cause them some mild inconveniences. Chisaki would think you weren’t thinking big enough and say the authorities should be killed and everything that put them in place should be destroyed. If a pirate has average goals, he deems them sick and they need to be cured (killed). I just think in this world his big goal would to go after real power. I could see his goal being to like completely restructure society and eliminate pirates with average goals and ensure the only ones who remain are one who share his vision. 

Not sure if we’ll even need his backstory but let’s say in our fic it goes like this: 

He is orphaned at a very young age and tries to find for himself on the street. It’s miserable and he probably thought he was going to die. Then, he is found by an older pirate (like 60′s) who takes him in. This pirate and his crew used to be really respected back in the day when they were more traditional pirates who did all the pirate things ( rob, pillage, ect).  However, in his older age the pirate has decided that pirates should care more about destroying high society (an understandable cause that some can get behind but simply don’t want to put in the work ).  Because of this, his crew has gotten a lot smaller and the biggest disruption they’ve had on high society is destroying a few wealthy business.  But it’s important to know this pirate was never extremely violent. Didn’t approve of vile crimes and genuinely wanted to bring a more positive change on society. He really wasn’t that bad (not an angel by any means but not as bad as most). It’s also important to note that he wouldn’t condemn other pirates for having simple goals like fame or adventure. Did he wish they had a drive for more? Yes, but he wouldn’t harm them. So, Chisaki grows up genuinely wanting the same change in the world but also wanting to ensure his caretaker’s crew became respected again so things slowly become more and more twisted as he gets older. 

I figured that when Chisaki is around 12 is when he’s properly introduced to Katsuki. How this happens is that I could see Katsuki’s mother helping the caretaker’s crew by looting and destroy wealthy business (simply because it paints her as more threatening figure while also putting money into her pocket). On of these missions, Katsuki’s mother’s brought him along. That’s how Chisaki and Katsuki become friends. But as they both grow older, they drift a part a tiny bit. Chisaki becomes transfixed on ensuring his caretaker’s vision becomes a reailty. He thinks to ensure this happens, they need be more violent, more ambitious and kill those with true power. In Chisaki’s ideal world, average pirates would be put down, nobles would be put down and the only people left would be those who admired them or were willing to work with them. He kills easily, he starts brutal fights with other pirates and his caretaker can do nothing to make him see sense which is why he tells him that he is no longer member of the crew. Ultimately, Chisaki feels so betrayed that he kills the man. Tells the crew he was murdered (obviously they don’t believe him) and decide they would kill Chisaki for the betrayal. Chisaki genuinely tried to give them a chance to come to his side but he knew what their intentions were (because he’s genuinely really smart). He poisons them all in at a supposed peace dinner. Since no one really cared about this crew anymore, no one really noticed that they were dead. But still, Chisaki, feels a strange sense of loyalty to his caretaker and still wants to carry out his vision. This is why he goes looking for Katsuki, thinking he could rebuild his caretaker’s crew but he quickly realizes that his old friend already has a crew. Chisaki intended on joining the crew and persuading to strive for the same vision he did. Of course, Katsuki doesn’t mind letting Chisaki join because he wanted a familiar person on his crew. Chisaki geuinely figured it would be easy to get Katsuki on his side but it proved to be harder than he thought. Thankfully though, the rest of the crew admired his vision so it was easy to convince them all it was time to overthrow Katsuki. Chisaki simply planned on dropping Katsuki off on an island and letting him die but Beck convinced him to ask for ransom first because they were a brand new crew and would need money. So, they did just that. Katsuki’s mother refused and they abandoned Katsuki on an island with nothing but a gun to kill himself.

This leaves Chisaki with a loyal crew that sail under his old caretaker’s banner and on his ship the Kraken. Chisaki never expected Katsuki to escape so you can imagine how infuriated that Katsuki is still alive. They always planned on offing him for good but usually got distracted by more important matter like killing people who opposed them and important nobles. 

Okay, I went into way too much detail there but he’s like the most important one so I’ll keep the others brief. 

Now onto Dabi:

If a quote that could some up Dabi is, “ Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.” That’s Dabi. His chaotic, destructive and hates society.  He’s really hot too but that’s beside the point lol (i may just have a thing for fire guys). 

Here’s the important stuff from his Wiki:

“Dabi is a stoic, aloof, confident, and focused individual who rarely shows emotion. While rather crude and violent, he is actually cautious, choosing to retreat when needed. Overall, Dabi is a highly enigmatic individual who trusts no one, preferring to do things alone and in his own way. He also gives off the impression of knowing more about certain people than he lets on. Despite his usual expressionless behavior, Dabi finds joy in establishing himself as a villain fighting against what he believes to be false heroes, an ideology proposed by his apparent inspiration, Stain (just a guy who killed heroes because he thought they were hypocrites for getting paid). Dabi is dedicated to Stain's mission and desires to destroy superhuman society, sharing his belief that one person with the necessary conviction can do so. He appears to share Stain's sentiment that Heroes are hypocritical and unworthy of their title, but unlike Stain, he does not seem to seek a society with better heroes. Dabi takes pleasure in taunting heroic figures, students, and Pro Heroes alike, sadistically enjoying the pain he inflicts on others, including those he murders. Sometimes, Dabi engages in psychological warfare in order to unnerve whoever his opposition is (while also allowing himself to cool down from his own Quirk's effects). Very pragmatic in battle, he is rather savvy about how heroes operate and will exploit their natural tendency to rescue others. He's not afraid of causing collateral destruction, rarely holding back, even if it puts his allies at risk. Dabi is intolerant of most people and can be very derisive, being quite rude and condescending to essentially everybody he interacts with. He insulted Tomura Shigaraki immediately after meeting him and constantly does the same to both his allies and enemies. While the League would go on to develop a strong sense of camaraderie, Dabi has remained distant from them for the most part. He has admitted that he doesn't care for Tomura or the rest of the League and that the value he puts on them comes mostly from their ability to bring his ambitions into reality. This selfish way of thinking establishes Dabi as an extreme sociopath. However, Dabi appears to at least be capable of feeling remorse. While he had no problem killing a Pro Hero, their last  words appear to have resonated with him, implying that Dabi has sympathy for those that have lost family due to villains.”

Again, here’s a video just for his speech and mannerism that may be helpful: 

Okay and lastly, Himiko Toga

Overall, she’s fucking crazy and fun to watch but actually really scary. Her abilities we can’t include but their really cool. If she consumes someone’s blood, she can become their clone. Maybe in our fic we can just say she’s like really good at being sneaky and disguises. I’ll post the important Wiki stuff about her personality: 

“Himiko is a very cheerful girl, to the point of smiling even after having presumably killed someone, displaying sadistic tendencies.This continues even when danger is imminent, but it tends to stop when she is bored or annoyed. Himiko is frequently seen blushing seemingly out of excitement rather than embarrassment, giving her a permanent look of what appears to be lovesickness on her face. However, she has shown that she can easily be embarrassed, such as when she thinks people are coming on to her. Himiko is obviously mentally unstable and has a very twisted perception of love and friendship. Proven when, despite wanting to kill Ochaco Uraraka and Tsuyu Asui, she still attempted to befriend the two girls as they fought, affectionately calling Tsuyu by her first name and describing the former as "lovely". When talking to Ochaco, she said that it was only natural to want to be like the one you love, to the point of literally becoming that person. Later she further explains and compares that like how "normal" people kiss the people they love as "normal", she sucks the blood of the people she loves as this is her "normal", further showing her twisted understanding of love, which thus justifies her carving up and butchering "guys who are tattered and reeking of blood", as they fit the description of her ideal lover. Himiko's interest isn't just superficial, as her questioning Izuku Midoriya about what his values and beliefs imply, showing that although twisted, she does indeed want to know more about the person she "loves". She also has shown a comedic and childlike demeanor when faced with different situations. Like most of her allies, Himiko has stated that she finds life to be difficult for the current world and wants to make it an easier place to live in. She looks up to Stain and sees him as her role model; declaring a desire to kill and "become" him. She has shown to care greatly about her comrades and was enraged by one of their deaths. So much so that she wanted to kill the one responsible and their men as payback. Himiko is also shown to be prone to mood swings when she finds a target of "affection" (often Izuku) she is loud and cheerful. However, when an obstacle gets in between her and her prey, she shows a very angered expression, instantly switching priorities to kill whoever the nuisance is. In the past, Himiko was noted by her family and former classmates to be, "a cheerful, reasonable, well-mannered girl" whose subsequent turn to a life of crime surprised everyone who knew her. However, her own recollections imply that this was merely an act she put on to try and fit in with what society deemed "normal." She believes the way she acts presently is her own normal. 

Again here’s a video just for speech and mannerisms:

Okay, that’s everything I think. The only plot addtion for her is that we could potentially have her be interested in Laurie the same way she’s interested in Izuku on the show. We totally don’t have to but I thought it could potentially be interesting to have a really dangerous person for you to have to protect Laurie from. Of course, he can defend himself but she’s a little bit harder to deal with the average person. Again, we don’t have to do that at all, just an idea. :) 

I’ve gone on for WAYYY too fucking long but I think I’ve covered the important things. :)

[theyoutubedork]

I’m not a wizard: part 2

tag list: @strangemaximoff

A couple of months later, and you are completely able to walk again. You learned Eldritch Magic Manipulation, constantly channeling dimensional energy to let your body function normally. It took you a while to get the hang of constantly using it, but now you grown used to the inter-dimensional hum throughout your body. You can barely feel it anymore. At this point, you were ready for almost anything, with Dr. Strange teaching you as much as possible. He wanted you to be prepared for when the dangerous threat he was talking about arrives.

The best part though, was being able to enforce your quarter staff with magic. Similar to the staff of the tribunal, you could spilt the stick apart so you could use it as a flail. It’s use was no longer that of a cane.

One day, Dr. Strange was about to do a deli run. You were going to go with him, while Wong stayed behind since he had no American money.

“I wouldn’t say no to a tuna melt,”

Wong said. You let out a laugh, before something crashed behind you. You all ducked for cover. You all summoned your weapons as you closed in on the hole in the stairs. You summoned your staff into your hand, pointing it threateningly as you draw closer. You peer inside to see a green man grumbling, eventually losing his odd color as he shrinks. He looks up at the three of you.

“Thanos is coming. He’s coming,” he said, out of breath. You all exchanged confused glances.

“Who?” Asked Dr. Strange.

After incoherent ramblings on the destruction of the universe you went over to the man who introduced himself as Dr. Bruce Banner, or the hulk. You place a hand on your shoulder. He stops rambling.

“If this Thanos is as life-threatening as you describe, is there any one you know that could help us?” You ask. Bruce Banner nods.

“Tony Stark,” He says. You look to Dr. Strange,

“Iron man, wow, ok, let’s try that,” You say. Dr. Strange nods at you to come with him as Wong stays behind. Dr. Strange quickly opens a sling ring, showing Stark and his wife kissing each other. You wince as Strange interrupts them.

“Tony Stark,” He announces, walking through the portal with you behind him,

“I’m Dr. Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me.” The couple looks at us, confused out of their minds. You nudge Strange, urging him to elaborate.

“Oh, uh, congratulations on the wedding by the way,” he says. You try not to laugh. Tony squints his eyes.

“I’m sorry, you giving out tickets to something?”

“We need your help,” Strange explains. You nod.

“It’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake,”

“And who’s we?” Tony challenges.

You were about to introduce yourself when Banner walks through the portal.

“Hey Tony.”

“Bruce!”

“Pepper,” Bruce greets.

“Hi,” whispers pepper.

Bruce goes up to Tony and hugs him.

You all walk back into the sanctum, you directing Tony to a couch. Wong begins to explain everything to do with the infinity stones and their existence. Dr Strange lists them out, revealing the time Stone in the eye of Agamotto. You gasp.

“You didn’t tell me you had that wrapped around your neck this whole time!” You growl, swatting Strange’s arm. His cake pushes you away. You huff. Tony continues,

“Tell me his name again,”

“Thanos,” explains Bruce, “he’s a plague Tony. He invades planets. He takes what he wants. He wipes out half the population. He sent Loki. The Attack on New York, that’s him.”

“This is it,” says Tony, “What’s our timeline?”

“No telling, He has the Power and Space Stones. That already makes him the strongest creature in the universe. If he gets his hands on all six stones, Tony...”

“He could destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamt of.” Says strange. You see Tony lean on the cauldron of cosmos, stretching.

“Did you seriously say “hitherto undreamt of”?” He sneers.

“Are you seriously leaning on the Cauldron of Cosmos?” The cloak of levitation whacks Tony away from it. It lets out a big clang. You let out a chuckle.

“I’m going to allow that. If Thanos needs all six, why don’t we just stick this one down the garbage disposal?”

“No can do,”

“That’s a stupid idea,” you groan at the same time as the Doctor. Tony looks at you.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be here?” Tony says, finally looking at you.

“My name is Y/N L/N, thanks for asking!” you say, letting on a frown,

“Anyway continue” you lean your staff towards the group.

“We swore an oath to protect the time stone with our lives.”

“I swore off dairy, but then Ben and Jerry’s names a flavor after me, so...”

“Stark Raving Hazelnuts.”

“It’s not bad,”

“More like not good,” you laugh.

“A bit chalky.”

“A hunk of hulk of burning fudge is our favorite,” Wong says.

“I liked Captain Americone, but then they discontinued it since he was you know, a criminal now,” you add. Wong hums in agreement, with a solemn look on his face.

“Point is, things change.” Tony said.

“Our oath to protect the Time stone cannot change. And this stone may be the best chance against Thanos.”

“Yeah, So conversely it may also be his best chance against us.”

“Well if we don’t do our jobs.”

“What is your job exactly? Besides making balloon animals.”

“Protecting your reality,” Strange says and you instinctively join him in saying, “douchebag,” Strange smiles at you, and you give a toothy grin.

“Ok guys, could we table this discussion right now? The fact is we have this stone. We know where it is. Vision is out there somewhere with the Mind Stone and we have to find him now,”

“Who’s Vision?” You say.

Tony explains that “Vision” is offline.

“Who could find vision then?” Strange says.

“Shit. Probably Steve Rogers.”

“Oh great,” you all mumble.

“Maybe.”

Bruce asks why he can’t just call him, and Tony reveals to him that the avengers broke up.

“Broke up? Like a band? Like..like the Beatles?”

“Exactly like the Beatles,” You say, chuckling at his use of terminology.

“Cap and I fell out hard. We’re not on speaking terms.”

Bruce explains that Thanos is coming no matter what whoever you’re talking to or not.

“He’s right Tony,” you add. Tony sighs and walks away and pulls out his flip phone. Things start to rumble.

“Say doc you wouldn’t be happen to be moving your hair would ya?” Tony asks.

“Not at the moment no,”

The rumbling becomes louder as you see people running outside. You guys exit the sanctum, seeing people running for their lives. You quickly follow Dr. Strange and Tony, summoning your shields.

“You might want to put that stone in your pocket Doc,”

“Might wanna use it,” Doc answers, summoning his own rings. You turn a corner to see a ring ship hovering over the city.

“Friday, evac anyone south of 43rd street notify first responders”

Dr. Strange instructs you to clear the dust with him, and you both cast the Winds of Watoomb to clear the area. A beam from the ship makes two aliens figures land on the ground. You gulp, taking a deep breath.

“Hear me, and rejoice. You are about to die at the hands of the Children of Thanos. Be thankful that your meaningless lives are now contributing—“ the skinny one says before Tony interrupts him.

“I’m sorry, Earth is closed today.” He yells. You smile at his words,

“You better pack it up and get outta here.”

“Stonekeeper” the alien addresses Strange.

“Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not I speak for myself.” He defends, summoning his rings, “you’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.”

Both you and Wong summon your rings as well, and you feel magical energy course through you.

“He means get lost, Squidward.” Tony yells. You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from laughing. He was totally right!

“He exhausts me. Bring me the stone,” Squidward says to his partner who chitters in an alien language.

Banner is unable to summon hulk, saying they had a thing, frustrating Tony.

“Dude you’re embarsssing me in front of the wizards.” Tony growls.

Tony orders wings to look after Bruce. You see Tony summon his iron man suit battling briefly before being shot up from the ground. Dr. Strange turns to Bruce as Wong summons a shield.

“Since the rest of your green friend won’t be joining us...” sending him through a sling ring.

You send a few projectiles at Squidward when Tony comes back.

“You need to get that stone out of here now!”

“It stays with me,”

“Exactly, bye,” He says, hurtling towards the beasts before being sent through a wall. Dr. Strange turns to you,

“Go help him,” he says, nodding his head towards Tony. You nod. You quickly summon ruby rings, jumping up towards a building, using your quarterstaff to pole vault you towards the park. You see Tony push Bruce out of the way as you will yourself to float down next to them. Your legs wobble slightly from your first time with actually floating, but you quickly recover. Tony begins to be beat up by the monster and before you throw a shield to protect him, something red and blue beats you too it.

“Hey man. What’s up Mr. Stark?” The young hero says. You recognize him as Spider-Man, since you’ve heard briefly of him.

“Kid, where’d you come from?” Tony asks.

“A field trip to MOMA!” He yells as he’s thrown to the side. You quickly throw some golden whips onto the beast, trying to restrain him as Tony blasts the alien.

“What’s this guy’s problem Mr. stark?” You hear the boy yell.

“Uh he’s from space. He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard.” He says. You sigh, slashing at the alien with your flail-staff.

“For the last time due we’re not wizards! We’re Masters of the Mystic Arts!” You yell back at Tony. The beast grabs Spider-Man throwing him. You summon a sling ring, sending him through as you drop him above you, as you manage to catch him. Your knees slightly buckle from the weight but you set him down on the grass. Spider-Man looks up at you.

“Thanks!” He yellsas you flail at the beast.

You throw more space shards at the alien. Spider-Man quickly grabs a car that’s thrown, throwing it at the alien. Suddenly you see Dr. strange whip by, the cape dragging him.

“Kid that’s the wizard. Get on it!” Tony says.

“On it!” Spider-Man says. You start running towards Strange, using your staff as a pole vault once more. You use more powers as you try to fly through the air, but you keep trailing across the ground every few feet or so. Spider-Man soars above you as you start to trail behind. You feel your legs screaming from the amount of energy you are using, yelling in pain. You look at Spider-Man swinging through the air and you start to do the same. You take golden whips and start swinging off of trees and streetlights, only having to float yourself a few times. The wizard sends billboards you way, and you quickly deflect it with a shield. Spider-Man gets hit, and you keep going, flying ahead of the wizard and grabbing Strange with your whip as he’s sent flying, you see a strand of webbing attach to him, and Spider-Man comes to your aid. Suddenly a beam from the ship starts pulling you up, but you refuse to let go. Spider-Man trails after you. And you hear his yell.

“Uh Mr. Stark, I’m being beamed up.”

The ship escalates super quickly and you look at Spider-Man.

“What do we do?” You say, unable to think of a spell to save you. Spider-Man quickly grabs you by the waist, swinging you both to a side of the ship. You cling onto the panels. You both start climbing. Spider-Man says suddenly,

“But you said to save the wizard! I can’t breathe!” He says as he takes off his mask. Your already gasping for air as you see an attractive young man emerge from the mask. He gasps for air. Tony seems to say something to him before he says,

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He breathes before he collapses. You scream, failing to catch him with your whip.

“Spider-Man!” You yell. Suddenly something flies onto him, emerging his in a new suit. He lands not so gracefully on the trip. gracefully on the ship. You see that before he’s sent off with a parachute, and you start to lose consciousness, you try to summon the winds into your lungs, but your arms give out. You start to feel yourself fall, but then you feel strong metal arms surround you.

“I got you kid,” you hear Tony say. You’re able to breathe in a few moments, and Tony sets you on your feet. You and him quickly go to a safe place, observing Dr. Strange from above. Tony nearly blasts the cloak of levitation.

“Wow, you’re a seriously loyal piece of outerwear aren’t you?”

He says. You nod at him.

“Yes, it’s his personal relic, it has a spiritual bond with him.

“Yeah uh speaking of loyalty.” Spider-Man flips down onto the floor.

“What the..”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

“You should not be here”

“I was gonna go home”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“But it was such a long way down and I thought about you the way...”

“And now I gotta hear it.”

“Kinda stuck to the side of the ship and this suit is ridiculously intuitive by the way. So if anything it’s kinda you’re fault I’m here.” Peter rambles. You gasp at his words. Did he seriously just say that?

“What did you just say?”

“I- I take that back?” Peter stammers, “And now I’m here in space”

“Yeah right where I didn’t want you to be.” Tony says. He walks up to Peter in a hushed tone. You turn to the cloak, looking for any help. It just shrugs at you before wrapping you into a cloaky hug.

You hear hushed arguing before Tony walks back towards you.

“You’re not to supposed to be here either!” He says to you.

“Excuse me?” You retort.

“You’re too young just like him, I can tell you’re not ready for this!” He assumes. You cross your arms before sneering up at him.

“For your information, Strange told me to go SAVE you when you got hit in the face with a hammer,”

“I didn’t need to be saved!”

“Maybe not but obviously you are your little buddy here couldn’t hand it on your own, so now I’m here! I’m trying to save my fucking mentor so if you two could shut the fuck up, then maybe we can get out of here!” You say, blood boiling. You got so distracted that you stopped channeling your energy, and you nearly fall before Spider-Man catches you in your arms.

“What’s the matter?” Spider-Man says. You look up into his chocolate brown eyes before shoving him away, regaining the strength in your legs quickly. You feel the familiar hum in your bones.

“Nothing! I just got so angry I forgot to hold myself up,” you mumbled. The boy and Iron Man look at you quizzically. You sigh, leaning on your staff,

“I have to use dimensional energy constantly so I can walk,” You say. They still look at you oddly.

“I was paralyzed from the waist down a few years ago, that’s why I became what you call a “wizard”. Dr. Strange taught me how to walk again.” You explain, returning to your full height.

“You use magic to walk?” Iron Man says. You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“Basically, I’ll explain it later, right now we gotta save my boss.” You say. Iron man points to Strange, looking at Peter.

“See him down there? He’s in trouble. What’s your plan? Go.”

“Umm. Ok ok um have you seen this really old movie aliens?” Peter says, looking at the both of you. You raise your eyebrow in question.

Tony starts to face off against Squidward. He blasts a hole in the ship sending out the alien, and Spider-Man goes to grab him. He hangs on by metal tendrils. You hear him scream in triumph through an earpiece Tony gave you. You quickly wrap your whips around his torso, dragging him back up through the ship. Tony quickly seals the hole when they are launched back up. You drag Spider-Man back up, and discard your whip. He looks at you with his wide mechanical eyes. You smile before rushing over the Dr. Strange.

Tony And Stephen start arguing. You walk next to him as Tony yells at him.

“Who just saved your magical ass? Me!”

They continue arguing as you turn back around, conjuring a string of light between your hands, fiddling it in thought.

“Now we’re in a flying doughnut billions of miles from Earth with no back up.”

“I’m backup,” both you are Peter say, raising your arms. You both look at each other.

“No, you’re both stowaways! The adults are talking. ” Tony sneered.

You groan in protest.

“She’s not a stowaway, she’s with me. And,I’m sorry, I’m confused as to the relationship here. What is he your ward?”

“No, I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Dr. Strange.”

“Oh you’re using made up names, um, I’m Spider-Man then.” He says. You sigh and walk over to him while the “adults” started talking.

“That’s his actually name. He’s my mentor. I’m Y/N L/N.” You say, flipping your hair out of your face while sticking out your hand for him to shake. You see Peter get flustered he takes your hand warily.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” He says. You smile.

“You said that already,” you laugh. His eyes widen.

“Oh,uh sorry.” He says. You shake you’re head.

“It’s fine, Peter,”

You both glance back at the two men, who are standing face to face. You both gulp in fear of what they’re talking about.

“All right Stark, we go to him,” Strange says, “But you have to understand, if it comes to saving you, or the kid, or the Time Stone, to let either of you die. I can’t because the universe depends on it.”

“What about your magical assistant then? You didn’t say you would let her die,” Tony asked with genuine interest. Your heart drops. Before Dr. Strange answered you stepped in.

“Like Wong said, we swear an oath to protect the Time Stone. I will lay down my life for it if I have to.” You say to Tony. You look to Stephen, who avoids your gaze. What would he have said?

“All right kid,” Tony says, laying his hands on both of Peter’s shoulders, “you’re an avenger now.” Peter smiles, adjusting his stance to look more heroic.

You smile, looking at his new self-assured state. He looked cute. Wait what?

[rosecolouredash]

Querencia CH. 2

Previous Chapters // PROLOGUE ONE

Summary: A prince and his sword reunited with his knight best friend.

Warnings: Insinuated violence and death.

Notes: I’ve been heavily inspired to write as of late so another chapter it is! This was the last full chapter within my Google docs (before I abandoned it.) I do have random dialogue and scenes written out (ie. Luke’s story in this all.) Now to fill in the blanks, haha

—

CHAPTER TWO

King of the Wastelands, Michael Clifford and his family of unruly bandits—plus one gryphon—were able to drive off the invaders that set fire to their fortress. In the process, they saved the ousted Prince Calum from the wrath of, who they discovered to be, the Easentis Army. Left with nothing but a burnt husk of a stronghold, they decided to join the prince on his quest to return to his homeland and to defeat the Empire—on the promise that they received a new homebase.

They allowed themselves a couple of days to recuperate from the battle before they journeyed North of Veodia, setting their course towards the capital city of Waiburne.

Michael and Calum walked side-by-side, at the center of a ring of bandits. The group chatted animatedly amongst themselves, around the two young men. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

“How’s it look up there, Dionne?”

From her place in the sky, on her beloved gryphon’s back, the russet-skinned girl surveyed their surroundings. They had made great progress—travelling past the silver sands of the Veodian wastelands into an area less barren and with paved, though rocky, paths. Dionne pushed the dark curls that had fallen in front of her eyes while flying.

“Nothing to see for another ten miles.”

Arnie the gryphon let out a squawk, in agreement with his rider.

“All right, thank you!”

Calum watched as Michael waved her off. 

Dionne and Arnie, flew ahead of their group to continue to scout.

“I don’t think she likes me much.”

Michael whipped his head towards his new royal friend. “What makes you say that?”

The prince pursed his lips, “she doesn’t seem comfortable around me.” Calum then let out a sigh. “She never speaks to me unless absolutely necessary and when she walks with us, she keeps her distance.” The frown on his face deepened. “Even the gryphon, gives me quite the glare.” 

Michael chuckled at the last comment. “That’s just Arnie for you. I’ve known him since he was a hatchling and he still gives me the side eye, sometimes.”

The bandit kept a watchful gaze on his oldest friend as she weaved through the clouds on her gryphon. “As for Dionne? Well...she’s not the biggest fan of you royal folk.” 

“But you’re a king too, aren’t you?” 

Michael let out a loud bellow. He grabbed the prince by his shoulder—successfully bringing him into a one arm hug. “They call me king—yes but I have no royal bloodlines to back it up.”

Calum looked towards the wild-haired man who continued with a soft smile. “Look, if it’s something you’re concerned with, you should ask. S’not my place to completely talk for her.”

The prince then shifted his gaze towards the sky. “I just—a number of people have already made sacrifices to keep me safe.” 

The bandit watched as Calum’s eyes seemed to cloud over.

“I wouldn’t want to hold anyone to the same fate if they were unwilling, which is rightfully so.”

Michael let what Calum said linger in the air before he offered some reassurance. “If it’ll help you sleep better at night, I did ask them if they wanted to do this.”

The leader of the bandits thought back to the night they met—when Calum had fallen asleep from exhaustion before Michael and the rest of his crew. 

“I gave them the option to back out and to stay in our wastelands but they all agreed. This is a cause we can’t not help with.”

A warm feeling enveloped Calum’s chest—he was grateful for his newfound allies. 

“Your dad—King David—he was a good man and from the little time I’ve spent with you, I can tell. You’re following in his footsteps.”

Calum smiled at the kind thought. He hoped so.

“It’s only right that you take back what’s yours and bring peace back to this kingdom.”

They continued to walk side-by-side, the bandit’s arm wrapped tightly around the prince.

“Michael?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

—

“So your main force is at Clare View Point?”

The travellers neared the aforementioned area. Calum nodded at Michael’s inquiry while they picked up their pace. When Dionne had flown ahead, she quickly returned with news that she found a group of knights under attack by the Empire. 

The prince could only hope they were Saerean knights. “They offered themselves as a decoy to cover my escape to safety but Lorian’s army must have seen through the ruse.”

From above, Dionne signaled for the men to slow down. They took her word and found cover behind a large rock. When Michael peered around it, he happened upon the battle that raged ahead. “That’s your main troop? They’re not looking so good.”

Calum too had a look, only to be saddened by how right Michael was. 

“I don’t believe it. It was quite sizable before…”

The bandit gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “They won’t be able to hold out for much longer so we need to devise a plan quick.”

Dionne had Arnie bring them back down to earth. She hopped off the gryphon, once they landed and she joined Michael and Calum. 

“The royal army is nearly sunk but I think I heard someone cry that the third cavalry was still putting up a fight.”

The prince let out a sigh of relief. “The third cavalry? That’s Ashton’s unit.”

For once, the gryphon rider regarded the prince but her face stayed neutral. “Well, whoever he is, his men are doing their best but they’re definitely short on numbers.”

“We might be able to help then, if we hustle.” Michael quipped.

He turned towards the rest of the group. “All right, everyone. Prepare for battle.”

—

“Sir, we’re surrounded.”

Ashton Irwin, leader of the third royal cavalry of Saere, gave Remy a tired smile. Or maybe it was Rome? He was usually very good at telling them apart but unfortunately, he was currently in a weakened state. 

The Abal twins watched from their stallions, in concern, as Ashton picked himself up from falling off his white mare. He used said horse—affectionately known as Margaret or simply Peggy—and his giant lance to steady himself. When Ashton was suddenly flanked by the twin knights, he looked ahead to find the woman that caused him such pain to begin with.

“We’ve got you now.” 

A rich velvet covered her body—cascading to the ground in the colour of fine wine. She approached the knights but stopped when the boys on their horses took a step forward—in warning. 

“You can’t hold out forever.” Her hands began to glow—sparks of electricity crackling around her nimble fingers. “So, if you surrender now, I might just spare your lives.”

The head knight paid no mind to her threat. She could have sworn she heard him giggle too. “Surely you joke, witch. A royal knight never surrenders.”

He gave her a charming smile though winced at the sudden pain of his face, likely from being electrocuted moments prior. 

“I say, I’ll give you one last chance to withdraw.” Both Remy and Rome smirked at their captain’s offer—if Sir Ashton wanted to fight to the bitter end, so would they.

“Well, aren’t we brave? May lady luck see you through because you’re going to need it.” She made a grand gesture when turning around so her full skirt kicked up dirt into their faces. She looked towards her troops when her body started to dissipate. From the hem of her dress to the tips of her long, blonde hair—she fell away like smoke.

“Finish them.”

—

“Boss, it looks like the enemy can use magick.” Michael regarded the comment as they neared the battlefront. 

“We’ll just have to keep our guard up then.” the bandit king replied, cracking his knuckles.

Calum looked over his allies, unsheathing Zephir from its scabbard. “Don’t worry about the magick.” The wind suddenly whirled around the prince and his sword. “I’ve got your back.”

Michael smirked as he felt something in the air shift. He should have known—the legendary spellblade was not named in farce.

They entered the fight, Michael bringing out his Chasm to deal damage onto the Empire’s troops. 

Dionne and Arnie made waste of Easentis’ men—the gryphon grabbing onto them with his talons and tossing them out and away from the fight. The rest of the bandits helped to defeat many of the soldiers but what was most surprising was the prince himself.

Calum, ever quick on his feet, moved with his sword around the battlefield with ease. He slashed down enemy after enemy—sometimes casting a harsh wind to knock them away.

Eventually, they ploughed through the troops enough to find three knights and their horses at the center of it all.

“Who are you?” One of the young knights questioned. Remy had dismounted from his horse and held onto his captain, who did not have the strength to keep himself up.

“What do you mean, who are we?” One of the bandits responded.

“We’re here to help.”

Rome looked at his twin and then back at the bandits. “Help? You’re allies?”

The King of the Wastelands stepped forward. “I’m Michael, the leader of these knuckleheads.”

Dionne scoffed at the statement.

Grinning at her, he turned his attention back to the knights and continued. “Which one of you is Ashton?”

“I am he.” The royal knight, with some help from Remy, approached the group. “Brave bandit, what is it that you ask of me?”

Michael stepped aside so that Calum came into view.

“Ash!” The prince rushed to his best friend—looking him over. Though he was concerned with the minor burns that littered the knight’s skin, Calum thanked the gods that Ashton was, at least, alive.

“Cal, you’re safe.” Ashton engulfed the royal in a tight hug that was immediately reciprocated.

When he pulled away, Calum frowned. “What happened? When I left?”

The head knight recounted that Lorian’s Court Magician, Estelle appeared soon after they let Calum run away. She caused a storm that decimated the royal army—quickly and violently. Ashton let out a shaky breath, thinking back to the horror of it all. “My ranks have been thinned, considerably. Remy and Rome are the last of our unit.” 

Calum regarded the brunet twins as they bowed their heads, in respect to their prince. These boys were young—barely the age of adulthood. They had much life to live. How fair was it that they must go through this war because of him?

“Don’t feel bad.” Ashton was versed in reading his best friend like a book. He recognized the expression that settled on Calum’s face. The prince was tenderhearted—so much so that the knight believed he would likely be as benevolent a king as his father before him.

“You are the throne’s true heir. The kingdom’s last hope.” Ashton nodded to himself and the twins. “The royal cavalry will fight alongside you—” Then he gestured towards the bandits, “—all of you, until the very end.”

The twins eagerly agreed, both responding simultaneously, “we are at your command, your highness.”

Calum thanked the twin knights. 

He took a moment to gaze upon their group. From the bandits to the lady gryphon rider. From his best friend to his newfound friend from the wastelands. Calum then grinned as he remembered his conversation with Michael, earlier that day, so he addressed his allies with absolute determination.

“To defeat the Empire that took our homes and our families. To bring peace to our kingdom of Saere. I, Prince Calum, hereby form with you, the Royal Liberation Army.”

—

Tagged: @irwinkitten @calpops @rosecoloredash @lilbabycalum @gorgeouslygrace @rainingcalum @cashton-dolan @lockthisheartinchains @americanhorrorstudies @lovableah @cals-eyebrows @quintodosuniversos

[hydrospanners]

to break our bones for kindling. War has a way of breaking things. When Doc & Rea shatter themselves on different sides of the front, the jagged puzzle pieces of their hearts don't always fit neatly back together. SWTOR. Established F!Jedi Knight x Doc. Angst with a (kind of) happy ending. 1600 words. AO3.

Wounded pour in by the dozens, filling every tent with blood and bodies and the sickly sweet stench of death. Doc knows that stench like he knows the smell of caf or the bouquet of his favorite cologne. He knows it like he knows the scent of the Alderaanian spice cakes his father always buys for his birthdays.

It never did stop turning his stomach.

“We’ve got more incoming!” A voice bellows over the intercom, over agonized moans and helpless sobs and shouted orders. The tent flaps tear open seconds later and another stream of stretcher-laden, battleworn soldiers pour into the already overcrowded space.

Doc passes his tools to the nurse across the table from him, saying, “You’ve got it from here, handsome. Seal her up.” He resists the urge to wipe his sweaty brow and strip the gloves, slick with viscous green blood, from his hands. He tosses them in the bin and slips on a fresh pair from the repository beside it. His eyes scan the wounded, looking for familiar faces. Prays to the Force that he won’t find any.

To his relief, the faces are all new. One of the wounds, though, is painfully familiar.

“Over here!” He waves at the soldiers hoisting the stretcher between them, eyes locking on the burned edges of a laceration he wishes he didn’t recognize immediately. The kid’s uniform is the plain, unadorned grey of Imperial enlisted. He tries not to wonder whether that enlistment was voluntary or not; you can never really know with the Empire types.

The kid’s split open from neck to navel. One long, narrow slice that’s almost elegant in its efficiency. He might have admired the craftsmanship—the very familiar craftsmanship—if he wasn’t the one who had to separate melted synthetic fiber from melted organic flesh.

He pushes the thought to the back of his mind and goes to work.

# # #

Thirty more casualties pour in before she finally shows up. Smeared from head to toe with ash and dirt and blood, her jaw is clenched and forehead wrinkled in one of her rare frowns. Only one lightsaber dangles from her hip.

Her eyes find him almost immediately, and his heart stutters as she catches him up in the bright blue of her gaze, threatening to unravel him then and there.

Doc chokes down the swell of conflicting emotions and turns his eyes back to his patient. Back to the burned tissue and severed organs, to the shallow, rattling breaths and the too-slow oozing of blood beneath his fingers. “Suction,” he says, and the nurse obliges.

Then Rea is there beside him. He doesn’t want her here. Not now. Not while he’s stitching together a kid that she—

Either she doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care. It’s hard to tell with Rea. She’s at his side, one hand on his shoulder and another on the kid she nearly killed. The kid she was meant to kill. Doc may not be able to sense the Force, but he knows the rush of energy surging through him like he knows his own name. He knows the feel of her power, the shape it takes when it weaves its way inside of him, renewing him.

“What else can I do?” She asks.

This is the fourth day of the offensive. The fourth day of bombs and blaster fire and kids younger than Kira with craters the size of Nar Shaddaa in their chests. The fourth day of endless surgery and exhaustion and pumping their own nurses for blood. Of power outages and nutrient rations and using torn up shirts for bandages.

This is the fourth day of death, and even Doc can only take so much.

His fingers are slick with ruby-red blood and the lungs beneath them are gurgling through shallow wisps of breath. This isn’t a life he’s sure he can save and he knows the face of the person who took it. Knows it as well he knows his own. Sometimes wonders if he could maybe lo—

He has to focus. Has to save this kid.

Doc clenches his jaw and shrugs her hand from his shoulder. “I think you’ve done enough,” he says.

Her silence is heavy, and he misses the weight of it when she leaves.

# # #

He’s too tired to be angry when the message comes through his comm. He’s too tired to feel anything.

There are limits to the human body. To his. Even to Rea’s.

“She just collapsed,” the nurse is explaining, her voice fluttering with anxiety. She wrings her hands behind her back, all six of her eyes flitting to anywhere but him. “She wouldn’t let us check for injuries and she refused to rest. We asked! I don’t know—“

But he does. He knows exactly what happened. He’s seen it so many times now. “Give her fluids and a sedative. Keep an eye on her blood pressure, but don’t worry too much about it. She’ll be fine.” He pats the nurse’s shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring way. Nobody likes the idea of a Jedi dropping on their watch. “I gotta get back to it. My dance partner’s the impatient type.”

“Should we give her kolto?” The nurse calls after him.

“Not enough to spare,” he shouts the answer over his shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”

Please let her be fine.

Something tightens in his chest.

# # #

It’s one thing when it’s Sith. When they have lightsabers and can bend nature to their will with a gesture. When they can snap a mind in half with a look. It’s one thing when they can fight back. When they’re a threat.

But most of the time they aren’t. Most of the time, they’re just soldiers. People like him, with mass-produced armor that might stop a blaster bolt, but will split like silk beneath a lightsaber. People who don’t have a prayer in the galaxy of standing against her.

“It’s my job,” she explains, even though he hasn’t asked. Even though Doc’s just checking the wound she pretended not to have in total, unquestioning silence. “It’s not like I’m proud of it. It’s not like I even wanted to do it. But we both know someone has to and--Well it’s better that it’s me. I can take it.”

Her pulse is setting a frantic tempo for his instruments, beeping rapidly into the close, empty room. They might be stacking wounded three high out in post-op, but Jedi still rate private rooms. He can’t decide how to feel about it, so he’s trying not to feel anything.

“I’m not asking you to like it, but I won’t apologize for it and I won’t quit,” she goes on. He’s noticed that she doesn’t care much for quiet. “I tried to warn you about this back on Balmorra. I told you exactly how it would be, told you exactly what kind of person I am.”

He doesn’t call her on the blatant lie. He isn’t sure if she even realizes the untruth of it. He’s learned that Rea has all these ideas about herself, about the kind of person she is. She’ll talk for hours about her sins and her failures. She’ll warn anyone who listens how she’s just a weapon, how she’s cut glass and getting too close will only get you hurt.

She never mentions things like working herself unconscious in a field hospital, trying desperately to heal the people she hurt and the people she couldn’t protect. She doesn’t talk about how these wounded weigh on her, how she carries every life she’s ever touched around on her shoulders. How she never seems to bend beneath all that weight.

Rea talks a lot about her coldness and her cruelty and her mistakes. She never says a word about her strength. About her integrity. About the tenderness of her heart.

She never said a word about how she’d let a man stomp all over her if that’s what it took to keep him moving forward. She never told him she’d break herself to carry someone who was struggling.

Maybe if she’d been honest with him, he would’ve jumped ship ages ago. Maybe he’d have had the good sense to get out while he still could, before he could get tangled up in all this longing and respect. In this trust and warmth and passion. Maybe he would never have gotten in this deep.

Doc ties off the bandage around her ribs and admits to himself that he can’t really blame her for any of this. Harder still, he admits that he doesn’t want to. He takes her hand in his, not quite looking her in the eye but not quite looking away either, and says, “Everyone has their limits, Gorgeous.”

“I know.”

“There’s only so much death and destruction a man can take. I guess four days of casualties is flirting with my limit.”

She nods, but he can’t bring himself to look at her face. Can’t bring himself to see if there’s any hurt in her eyes. “It isn’t going to get better,” she says.

He swallows. “I know.”

“It’ll probably just get worse.”

He takes a breath. Squeezes her fingers. He doesn’t have to look at her to see the wall she’s putting up between them, to see the layers of permacrete growing higher and higher around her heart. It’s a game he’s played dozens of times before, and he doesn’t care much for being on this side of it. “I know,” he says.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Doc. You don’t have to stay.”

He finally turns his gaze to hers. Lets himself plummet into the bright blue pools of her bloodshot eyes.

“I’m exactly where I want to be.”

[zaddyzimmermann]

Hot Off The Press Pt. 2

OKAY SO I have to apologize for taking months to write, especially since it’s been sitting in my google docs folder waiting to be edit. There’s actually more but I have to finish it first lol. So there will be a part 3 and I PROMISE it won't take as long to post. Sorry for such a long wait I know a lot of you guys enjoyed this story.

Again take into consideration artistic license lol hope you guys enjoy

Pt. 1

***

Kent and Jack have a complicated past, but what people fail to realize is that no matter how things turned out when they were teenagers, it has no effect on them now. Their “feud” has been played up so much in the beginning of Jack’s career, it never died. It’s so far from the truth, that sometimes Kent and Jack read articles together on how much they hate each other and laugh about it. They agreed a long time ago that if they ever did start up a relationship again, there had to be no hostility existing between them. However, what they realized after growing up and Jack’s eventual spot on the Falconers is that they much rather be friends.

So no, they do not hate each other or have unrequited feelings on either side. Kent is the only person Jack can talk to about Eric, so when Kent isn’t overly supportive over Skype tonight, it hurts a little.

“Jack, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Kent looks upset, with no ounce of joy on his face. “Don’t you remember what happened with me--”

“Yes, but Eric is different. He would never do that.” Jack protests, hearing the irritation in his voice.

Kent’s face is still tight and he takes a few seconds to answer. “I beg to differ. I know who Eric Bittle is, Jack. He wrote an article about dangerous plays and referenced me, but not in a positive way.”

“Well, in his defense, you do rush the net a lot--” Jack’s input didn’t improve Kent’s mood, so he stops himself before he can continue.

“How do you know he’s not trying to get close to you so he can write an article on the Zimmermann name just like every other thirsty journalist looking for a big break?”

“That was a bit harsh.” Jack says in Eric’s defense. “He’s not that kind of presser, Kent. Thomas Caswell is that type of reporter.”

Kent runs a hand through his blonde hair that’s in need of a haircut. “Whatever, Zimms. If you want to risk your career like this, go ahead. I don’t trust him, and I don’t think you should either.”

“Bye.” Jack closes his laptop and tries to take deep breaths. If Kent isn’t supportive, the only people he could talk to is his parents, and they don’t really count. Jack doesn’t talk about his sex life with his parents.

He spends five minutes self-deprecating before opening up his laptop and looking up the article Kent was talking about. It’s one that Eric wrote a year ago, and overall it’s not even that bad. He doesn’t insult Kent in a rude manner, he just points out that there should be more rules put in place so players stop running into goalies. Eric has a point when he says, “Goalies are there to protect the puck; not barreling bodies with blades strapped to their feet.” Goalies often get hurt by skate blades that cut places that have gaps in the gear.

Reading the article makes Jack feel worse, but not about his decision to keep in touch with Eric. There is no way Kent would have such a grudge against Eric over one small reference in an article posted a year ago. Kent is hiding something.

***

A couple days later, with no word from Kent, Eric texts Jack that he’ll be in Boston for a couple days because the Bruins contacted him for a more permanent job. Which is good news if they work out and terrible news if things go south. After Kent’s reaction the other day, Jack has doubts and they aren’t even dating yet. Jack isn’t sure what they are.

With much more time on his hands, Jack gets to the small coffee shop twenty minutes early that Eric tells Jack to meet him at. He finishes his coffee before Eric shows up ten minutes late.

Seeing Eric in person again kind of wipes away a lot of doubts. He’s wearing a black blazer that fits him very nicely, and knowing full well what’s underneath it, Jack takes a few moments to control himself.

Also, Eric’s genuine, bright smile when he first sees Jack wipes away about the rest of his doubts. He doesn’t know why Kent is being complicated, but at the moment Jack doesn’t care. What Kent also fails to realize is that Eric is a sports reporter, and the two of them spotted having lunch together is extremely easy to cover up. Eric could be using him for a piece for all anyone knows.

“Jack.” Eric says a little breathlessly as he sits down across from him. His cheeks are flushed from the abnormal warm weather of May and possibly embarrassment for being late. “I’m so sorry I’m late, that’s so rude of me.”

“It’s okay.” Jack means it too. “I know you had that interview this morning with the Bruins.”

Jack feels Eric’s foot wrap around his ankle under the table. They were in a corner in the back, so no one would see it. So far, Jack hasn’t been bothered once. He has a feeling Eric chose this place for a reason.

“Oh lord did that take forever.” Eric laughs a bit nervously. “But from personal experience, that’s usually a good thing. Quick interviews mean you’re a bore and they aren’t interested. Also, she said, ‘We’ll definitely keep in touch’, and not ‘We’ll let you know’.”

Jack feels a small smile creep up onto his face. “Is that second option a bad sign?”

“Yes.” Eric sighs, resting his head in his hands. “I’ve gotten that a lot and it’s always been bad news that follows. However, the first means they are considering you.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Jack laughs. “The next time I apply for a job I’ll keep that in mind.”

Eric doesn’t say anything and just stares at Jack, which causes him to falter a bit. “Did I say something wrong?”

Eric begins to play with Jack’s foot under the table with a small smirk on his face. “No, Mr. Zimmermann. I was just admiring your laugh. It’s pretty fantastic, just in case you aren’t aware.”

The thing is, Jack doesn’t see him as a reporter right now. It’s not weird, because it’s easy to separate Eric’s job from his actual personality. Jack does not personally know a lot of presser, but they typically don’t have a personality like Eric’s. Jack doesn’t think anyone has a personality quite like Eric Bittle.

“You want me to order you something?” Jack asks, suddenly feeling rude. “Did you have a chance to have lunch?”

Eric blinks in surprise like he did in fact forget about having lunch. “Oh wow, I guess I didn’t. I was just so excited to see you I forgot to get something. I’ll be right back.” Eric slides out of his chair and Jack has no shame in admiring his ass as he walks towards the counter to order  lunch. A buzzing in his pocket disrupts his staring, so he quickly pulls it out of his pocket to check.

Kenny: Sorry about the other night. I didn’t mean to be a dick.

I just worry about you.

Jack doesn’t know how to respond to that just yet, so he ignores it and saves it for later. Eric comes back a few minutes later with an iced drink that has whipped cream on the top and a small sandwich.

“So, Jack Zimmermann,” Eric starts before taking a bite. “What have you been up to? I notice you avoid talking about yourself whenever we skype.” Eric doesn’t point this out unkindly, just with curiosity.

“Um…” Jack has to think for a moment, because no one has genuinely wanted to know besides his parents. “I like photography. Parse made me an instagram, but I don’t really know how to use it.”

Eric smiles into his next bite, looking extremely endeared. The mention of Parse didn’t seem to phase him. “Photography, huh? An athlete, model and now an artist. What can’t he do?”

Jack’s face grows hot at the mention of being a model. “It was one shoot, I wouldn’t call myself a model.”

“One shoot.” Eric scoffs, but in an amused way. “Yeah, one shoot that absolutely killed ninety-eight percent of the population.”

Jack isn’t used to this type of praise so directly. Because of this, he directs the conversation to something else. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy Eric talking about him that way, he’s just worried his skin tone will show how embarrassingly red he’s getting. So he decides to play fair. “Aren’t you a genius? You avoided that label the last time I mentioned it.”

Now Eric turns a bit red, so Jack counts that as deserved payback. “Like I said, it’s all relative. It’s an ivy so they don’t award scholarships, but they provided me with some nice financial aid when they sought me out for hockey which is kind of like a loophole if you ask me--”

“Hockey.” Jack blinks, a little surprised. It’s not like Eric doesn’t look capable, it’s just… Well, Eric doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would like the violence, judging by his stance involving more safety regulations in the sport.

Eric isn’t offended by Jack’s reaction, just amused. “Yes I know, shocking. However, being skilled at a sport only takes you so far in an ivy with ‘cutthroat academic scholars’, and with the threat of losing my spot on the team and possibly a big chunk of my financial aid for future years, a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”

Jack feels a slow smirk creep on his face. “So like any normal guy, you became Valedictorian.”

“Ha! They didn’t even see it coming.” Eric laughs before taking a sip of his drink. “Mostly everyone there was nice and supportive, but there are always a select few who think the world owes them something just because they have a high GPA.”

“Sometimes I wish I finished my junior year at Samwell.” Jack admits. “But when the Falconers sought me out I thought I would never get another opportunity quite like that one. Besides, it was relatively close to my friends and I didn’t want to go too far.”

Jack and Eric talk a little bit more, and suddenly Jack realizes this lunch together possesses all the traits of a date. Jack is still confused on where they stand with each other, but he also feels like, as always, he’s reading too much into something that might not even be there. However, it’s hard to think that when Eric keeps looking at him like that.

Jack makes an extremely risky move; he takes Eric back to his apartment. It’s mid-afternoon, so it’s not like Jack has any explicit plans. Eric seems genuinely interested in an apartment tour, and gushes about the kitchen for some reason. Jack will ask about that later. Maybe he likes to cook or something.

Eric jumps up onto the kitchen counter and glances around like he’s looking for something. And for what? Jack has no idea.

“So how often do you eat on this lovely surface?” Eric swings his legs back and forth, waiting in anticipation for Jack’s answer.

“Usually I just eat on the couch or use the table in the--”

Then Eric is pulling off his shirt and grabbing Jack’s tie to pull him closer. “Perfect.”

***

It’s been a few months of texting, skyping, then escalating to sexting and skype sex. Eric Bittle is certainly not his boyfriend, mostly because Jack was too afraid to ask. Eric is no one to ignore, and with his job involving interviews of multiple hockey players, Jack doesn’t expect him to just… well, to just not be with other people.

However, Jack wants them to be something more. He knows it’s an unappealing offer, especially since Jack is all the way in Providence and they only play the Penguins on average four times a year. It would be a long distance, closeted relationship. Besides, what they were doing now is fine for him. It’s not as much pressure, even if deep down he knows he wants Eric all to himself. Which is why Jack doesn’t clarify their relationship the next time they skype, or the time after that.

***

“So,” Eric says on the other side of the screen, absently chewing on a pen as he edits an article one of his colleges submitted. Apparently, he’s often asked to edit the more important pieces for grammar and spelling. He says it’s easier to spot mistakes when his eyes aren’t strained by a computer. “I have super super good news... and terrible news.”

This piques Jack’s interest a little, but not particularly in a good way. “What’s that?”

Eric puts down his pen and rests his head in his hand, a slow smile creeping up on his face. “I got a new job that’s more permanent.”

Now Jack’s interest is definitely piqued in a good way. “Oh yeah? Where?”

“Boston Bruins.” Eric’s smile is so bright, Jack can’t help to mimic it just a little. It seems almost too good to be true. Eric would be only about an hour away, so they could meet up in person instead of their online relationship which isn’t clarified as a relationship.

“Bad news.” Jack reminds Eric to tell him, which causes Eric’s smile to fade.

“Tom Caswell will be my boss. I know there was this big article on how he’s changed, and maybe I’ll give him a chance, but I seriously doubt that old bird has changed even a little bit. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

Jack just stares for a moment, not knowing how to respond. “How did he even get that job?”

Eric shrugs, looking disappointed and defeated. “Honestly? Because the stuff he writes sells and he’s always on television. He’s been in this field for over twenty years, and the Bruins social media platform has improved significantly since they hired him.”

“But… He assaulted you.” Jack says, incredulous. “How does that look good for their organization?”

Eric shrugs, like he’s already accepted his fate. That makes Jack frustrated a little, because Eric doesn’t deserve the harassment he’s probably going to get from Thomas.

“Listen, Jack. No one really knows who we are, much less what our track records are. If a hockey player punched me, that would have been different.” Eric doesn’t look at Jack anymore, he just draws something with his pen that Jack can’t see. “I can deal with him. I’ve been dealing with him from the beginning.”

“When would you start?” Jack asks, needing to change the subject.

“In a couple weeks.” Eric still doesn’t look at Jack, which kind of sets off an alarm bell in his mind. He wanted to change the subject so Eric wouldn’t be sad anymore, but Thomas must not be the sore subject that’s bothering him.

“Eric, what’s wrong?”

He pauses with his pen before slightly glancing up. “You don’t seem to want me in Boston.”

Jack frowns a little at that, because in a way that is true. However, it’s not true for the reason Eric probably thinks. “Of course I want you in Boston, but not if Thomas is just going to make you miserable.”

“I can deal with him, Jack--”

“I’m serious.” Jack cuts him off this time, which he typically never does. He loves listening to Eric go on rants or just when he speaks in general, but this is different. This is harassment. “Do you truly think he’s changed?”

Eric clears his throat before responding so softly, Jack almost doesn’t hear it. “No.”

“Maybe I could talk with the Falconer’s PR department--”

That didn’t seem to help the problem at all, because Eric’s head snaps up and he looks borderline angry. “No, Jack. I’m not using you to get a better job or a leg up, that’s not what this--” Eric gestures between both of them.  “--is about. So absolutely not. Like I said, I can handle Thomas. If the Bruins are smart, they will keep into consideration what Thomas did to me. If they want to look good, they won’t let that happen again.”

“Okay. I trust you.” Jack means it this time, but he also can’t give up this perfect opportunity to ask, “But what exactly is this, Eric?”

Eric’s determined expression changes to one of shy happiness so fast, Jack nearly doesn’t keep up. “I don’t know, honey. That’s up to you. What do you want it to be?”

Jack wasn’t prepared for that response at all. He clears his throat a couple times to buy just a little time. “Well, um, I really like you. A lot. And… I’m not so good at this.” Jesus christ, he sounds like a thirteen year old.

“I really like you too, Jack Zimmermann. A lot. And I’m not good at this either, because I’ve never really had anything like this before.” Eric gives him an excited smile before saying, “So I think it’s better if we discuss this in person, yeah? Because I really wanna kiss you right now and it’s botherin’ me that I can’t.”

“Okay.” Jack lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s holding. “Okay, yeah. When are you getting here?”

“In one week.” Eric grins. “You think you can wait that long?”

“I can try.” Jack smiles back.

“Good, because I have no patience and at least one of us needs to have some self control. I’ll probably send you a super inappropriate snap later on. Talk to you soon, honey.”

“Okay, Eric.” Jack laughs before signing off. It’s been a long time since he’s been this happy during an off-season.

***

“I mean it has…” Jack observes Eric’s small apartment with skepticism. “...personality.” It actually looks like a death trap, but Jack doesn’t say that. He’ll probably sneak some people in here to fix up the place as a housewarming gift.

“It has a functioning kitchen and a window.” Eric argues. “So, not that bad.”

“Oh yeah, you still have to bake me one of those pies you go on and on about. For all I know, you could be lying to me.” Jack smirks when Eric gives him a horrified look.

“I’m going to ignore the fact you just said that in knowledge of your ignorance.” Eric huffs out before dumping a box onto the blue couch the owner left behind. A cloud of dust bloomed in its wake.

“I just have to clean it up a little.” Eric says more to himself than to Jack. “That’s all.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s probably you.” Jack places down another box on the small coffee table so he can wrap his arms around Eric’s waist. His head falls back against Jack’s shoulder as he wraps his own arms around Jack’s.

“You are quite the charmer, Mr. Zimmermann. I mean, besides your pie comment--”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Jack suddenly blurts out, even though he planned on making it less awkward and immature.

Eric just laughs a little as he turns around in Jack’s arm. He glances up at him with a warm smile on his face. One that nearly causes Jack to melt right then and there. “My goodness, so formal. Of course I’ll be your boyfriend. I’d be an idiot not to.”

Eric initiates the kiss by wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck to pull him closer. It’s pretty innocent for a while until Eric wants more and slips his tongue into Jack’s mouth. Jack has to break away for a moment, because he did have something else important he needed to say. “I know it will suck being in the closet again, but it won’t be like this forever. I’m not giving you an empty promise. I want to come out, but when I’m ready.”

Eric reaches up to gently pat Jack’s cheek, and stares at him with complete adoration. “I don’t doubt you, Zimmermann. You are one of the most genuine guys I have ever met. I’m a journalist, so those are hard to come by. You are destined for great things.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me, eh Bittle?”

Eric pecks him on the lips before saying, “I always have, Jack.”

[docfuture]

The Maker’s Ark - Chapter 42

     [This is a chapter from my latest novel, a sequel to The Fall of Doc Future and Skybreaker’s Call.  The start is here, and links to my other work here.  It can be read on its own, but contains spoilers for those two books.  I try to post something new about every two weeks, with short stories and vignettes if I don’t have a new chapter ready.  The next update is planned for the week of February 26th.]

Previous:  Chapter 41

      "It isn't a particularly good time," said Stella.  "But there was never going to be one."       "Agreed," said Doc, thinking about what his self-analysis had uncovered.       They had moved to a secure room, with mind screens and assorted other esoteric anti-surveillance countermeasures active.  Stella leaned back in her chair.       "We have a lot to go over, but we keep getting interrupted, and I have a serious personal problem.  You did something supremely arrogant that has caused me a number of difficulties.  Some are short term, others aren't fixable for the foreseeable future.  And you appear to be unaware of how angry I still am about it, and why.  Our options are restricted because of potential political consequences."       Stella raised an eyebrow. "Finding a way to for us to continue to coexist professionally is necessary, and you really don't know enough about me.  It's not the only reason you keep making assumptions about me that are wrong, but it isn't helping.  And my old identity is likely to be uncovered eventually.  I don't want you to get blindsided."       Doc looked down at his hands.  "Your brain was viable.  If you didn't want me to try, it would have been useful to let me know beforehand.  Survival of self was your priority when I stood watch for your patch replacement."       "It most certainly was not.  And I gave no affirmative consent.  Margie was right to object.  You of all people should understand how bringing someone back can be a threat."       "DASI said you were changing, and that was--"       "DASI was operating on a secondary node, with a slightly out of date backup, and her protections from outside influence were disrupted.  So she chose to obey your override orders, despite the fact they were seriously outdated, rather than withhold information from you. We've dealt with those problems, but I'm still stuck with the result.  The changes she saw were those Three required to adjust to living in a new set of bodies.  A lot like some of the changes I've had to make for this damned--"       Stella clenched her fist, then unclenched it.  "This fine body, skillfully optimized for many things other than being me.  By far the most relevant problem with it is that it still has a human brain."       "No point in bringing you back at all without that.  I put in as much capability for you to shapeshift and adjust to the rest as I could," said Doc.       "Yes.  But even if we take a humanoid body as a given, this one would have suited me much better when I was seventeen and hunting full time.  I'm thirty, and my main job is to act as an auditor and figurehead for the effective caretakers of Earth--DASI and Three.  The adjustment capability is the only reason I'm still marginally sane."  Stella smiled wryly.  "Though that point is arguable."       "I based the snakes on your own telepathic self-image."       "Those snakes on a humanoid bio-remote I could inhabit when I chose would have been a wonderful indulgence.  They are indeed marvels of function and form.  But Stella Three is much happier than me, despite not having any--because she was able to retain continuity of identity as the person I wanted to be."       "She agreed.  And Yiskah didn't object."       "Yiskah had good and sufficient reason to pass on the call.  She shouldn't even have been conscious, let alone trying to make life or death judgements.  Three was who I wished to become and stay.  Not who I am now.  We could spend all day just on her decision tree.  She couldn't rule out the possibility that all your reasoning was wrong, your motivation rationalized--but your actions were still a time-loop driven necessity for this worldline to escape an existential trap.  She decided that agreeing was the least bad choice.  Among other things, Flicker was inconveniently witnessing your argument and was enthralled by the same mythological scenario as you, which may be relevant soon.  And Three knew she'd get to stay in the ships, no matter what happened to me."       Doc stared at the surveillance screen status monitor.  "Wrong but still necessary.  Definitely possible.  So you disagreed with my assessment of the risks inherent in giving up a biological body deliberately?"       "You had an applicable nightmare about yourself, correct?"       "Yes."       "You overgeneralized.  The Grs'thnk found considerable individual variation in biogestalt cohesion.  I augmented with a specific goal of identity stability.  You did not.  You were on the unstable end even before you augmented, and many of your adaptions match categories that make Grs'thnk more vulnerable to biogestalt problems."       "Not a coincidence.  I knew I wasn't going to go down the cybernetic route, so I optimized for other methods.  That's why I stay away from neural interfaces.  Your way does seem more robust."  Doc took a deep breath.  "But Three sure acts like she thinks of humans as amusing pets."       "She does.  Including me.  But so do I, and have for a long time.  Less amusing now that I lost what was probably my last chance to personally escape."       "There were others?" said Doc.       "To break free of the limitations of my first body, my first brain?  Oh, yes.  Didn't it bother you a bit that my little adventure in Milan turned out so messily, despite all my preparation?"       "Yiskah's original personality--"       "Was unexpected, but not an insurmountable problem, as Yiskah currently demonstrates.  I could have coexisted with her.  But I told you the day we met that I didn't want more than one body at a time, and I wanted hers.  What did you think I planned to do with my old one?"       Doc winced.  "You must have figured out Flicker was watching while you were still in the room."       "I did.  There was an extra mind nearby that Yiskah could detect but not localize.  And Flicker was absolutely not going to watch idly while my old body died in a hail of gunfire to cover my transfer.  No matter what I might say.  So I had to adjust my plan on the fly and accept a number of compromises, some of which wouldn't stay tenable for long."       "Is that why you needed my help with your patch?"       "Yes.  I hadn't planned on still having my old body.  And if I'd botched it, I would have lost a big chunk of continuity and seriously disrupted Yiskah."       "Okay.  This seems obvious now.  Why wasn't it before?"       "Yiskah thinks your initial analysis memories were in the small area that got wiped when I stopped the anti-tamper trap on your mind block from killing you.  You could have revisited it, but you never did.  You already trusted me, so why bother?  That's a problem."       "Accepting that you'd tell me anything relevant is a problem?"       "It sure is if you don't make time to listen.  And Flicker wasn't respecting your privacy, so there were things I could not push until I was sure she was stable or we had a truly secure privacy setup.  Preferably both.  I also wasn't sure how much you were still being influenced by Golden Valkyrie.  And there's a distinction between acceptance and not caring enough to learn, and you've been on the wrong side of that line for quite a while."       Stella closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath.  "Okay.  Scratch that.  This isn't about blame, but I'm not willing to hide my anger any longer.  Do you understand that we do have a problem?  And that doing something constructive about it should be a higher priority than refining models, whatever our personal inclinations?"       Doc nodded. "Yes.  Still listening."       "Good.  Let's talk about how I got the way I am--the parts you don't know, or have wrong."       *****       Journeyman had good reason to keep his front door closed, and Flicker was trying to learn to respect that.  She closed it after coming inside, then went to his study.       She slowed back down next to Journeyman, who was sitting on the couch staring at his phone.       "Hi," she said.  "Greta is handling things in the Nine Worlds--the pool will be ready if I come back in bad shape.  But I stopped to talk with Ashil, and she has a really solid idea that I think we--"       Flicker stopped as she belatedly started paying attention to body language and other cues.       "You don't look okay.  What's wrong?"       He looked up and smiled weakly.  "Too many things happening at once.  I needed a break from black hole physics, and it looks like I might get the physics part.  The break part--not so much.  I have a hypothetical question for you, forwarded by Three from Learning.  Could you psychologically cope with 24 hours of deep space travel on board Learning if you had to, with support from his biogestalt team and me?  If not, how about 16 hours?  Or how about if Donner came along?"       Distance, time and acceleration were life and breath to Flicker.  She didn't have to calculate; the numbers were just there. "Sixteen hours to Europa?  Learning can pull a hundred g's?"       "Hypothetically, his maximum acceleration might be a Grs'thnk military secret, not to be revealed casually to Earthlings except in an emergency.  Which this isn't.  Yet."       "Okay.  Um.  Sixteen probably, a full day maybe.  It would be rough, and I'm not sure what kind of shape I'd be in when we got there.  I don't think I'd even dare try to sleep, because if I turned on my inertial damping by reflex, it might blow Learning's inertial compensators and everyone else would get flattened.  If I panicked and tried a momentum transfer to local mass, it might blow his main drive."       "His safeties would cut acceleration before anyone else got hurt.  And what if there were a special room with no inertial compensation?"       "That would make things easier.  But why can't you just port us?  That worked fine last time."       "Not... exactly.  The Floaters object to the 'No, you really don't want to time-travel--oops, too late' club.  Strenuously, and for what appear to be good reasons.  Enough that their top communications priority is making sure I don't do it again.  They only have one guy talking now, and he's been patiently scaring the hell out of me.  From the other end of a long lag communications channel and across a nasty translation barrier."       "Is he a magician?"       "We don't think so.  As near as we can translate--and by we, I mean DASI, Three, and Learning--he's a safety physicist.  And he's scaring me with the questions he's asking.  Way too many of my answers are 'I don't know', 'We didn't think of that', or 'We did think of that, but had no reliable way to measure, so I just had to try and see'.  I feel like a fourteen-year-old with a fission pile in his basement trying to explain that criticality incident was no big deal because his friend is really fast with the control rods.  Even I don't believe it."       Flicker frowned.  "If it was so dangerous, why didn't the Grs'thnk warn us?"       "Learning did.  But they've mostly been following a policy that they don't know enough about Earth yet, so they're watching and documenting disasters before they object too much to anything specific.  They don't have some of the sensors and theory the Floaters do, and have translation problems of their own."       He smiled mordantly.  "But I have some good news--you're off the hook for 'Doomed us all'."       "They accepted that I had to do what I did?"       "Apparently, but that's not why.  We made a wrong assumption during the first try at translation.  Doomsayer was referring to our stupid portal tricks mishap, not your ballet for five million rocks and a universal reset button during the Xelian invasion.  And they weren't talking about you; they were talking about me."       *****       "...realized I wasn't even making a dent," said Stella.  "Eleven targets in almost two years?  That was down in the noise--and wouldn't make any long term difference, because they weren't getting caught; they were just dying.  But I did learn a lot about poisons, psychology, social engineering, and cultural assumptions.  And I didn't get caught, or even suspected, which I found increasingly puzzling, despite all my precautions.  I'd assumed I'd eventually get unlucky, or miss something because of inexperience."       "That was an entirely reasonable assumption," said Doc.       He was acutely uncomfortable with what he was hearing--but that was irrelevant.  Emotional distancing was not an option.  She was his partner.  He would listen.       "Another reason to stop was my age."       "Your age?  But--"       "There was an interesting legal loophole; if I managed to make it to 18 without dying or getting caught--which was starting to look possible--I couldn't be charged as a juvenile because I wouldn't be one anymore, and couldn't be charged as an adult because I was too young when the acts were committed.  Even for crimes without a statute of limitations, like murder.  I was still naive enough to think that mattered.  But that protection went away when I turned 13.  So I quit.  For then."       "I see."       "I had a number of new options open up, because my parent's divorce battle turned nasty enough I was able to get my legal guardian changed to my aunt.  She had a minor drinking problem, but was quite canny, had a good idea what my home life had been like, and was willing to cover for me as long as I remembered to eat and excelled enough at my home schooling that she could overwhelm the child welfare people with true stories of my academic performance.  Which I did."       "Ah."       "That's when I started studying you and planning my augmentation.  I was also finally beginning to suspect my sexual orientation might be something more complex than 'serial killer'..."       *****       Flicker studied the summaries projected on her visor.  She'd expected them to become clearer, with better defined probabilities, after everyone had time to analyze the data from the portal test mishap.  That hadn't happened.  DASI was now refusing to even give numerical estimates for some things, noting that they would be misleading.  And the error bars on the rest...       She slowed back down.       "DASI thinks your Floater safety guy has a very good point.  We've been focusing on what happened with the portal, without considering that it might be inseparable from what happened on the port home."       Journeyman leaned back on the couch and sighed. "Heh.  Maybe.  He's made clear that he doesn't know what happened, neither do we, that's a big problem, and we don't even know how big."       "The local and global causal disconnection scenarios are pretty scary."  Flicker pulled the Skystone out of her carrying pouch.  "Could you refasten this?  I took it off last night, but DASI thinks it might have been crucial that I didn't take it off for the first time until we were back together in Doc's med center, and I'm feeling uneasy about it now."       He looked at her for a moment, his expression hard to read. "Okay," he said.       As he fastened the clasp of the necklace, Flicker felt her sense of his presence and well-being snap back into place.  He seemed to be fine physically, but...       "You're pretty upset," she said.       He met her eyes.  "Yeah.  Personal stuff piling on top of everything else."       Flicker struggled with conflicting emotions.  "How bad?  Is it anything that telling me about would help?  I know your magical message drop system got accidentally DDOSed yesterday--did you miss something important?"       "I don't think so.  But a bunch of magicians found out the hard way that most chain-contagion assassination deterrent spells depend on the ultimate target being biological. They backfire badly if the chain ends with Black Swan.  From what I've heard so far, only a few really sloppy or reckless casters died, but it put quite a few others in tight spots.  Some of their former employers left standing orders to kill the magician if they died and their spell failed.  Occupational hazard of working for mobsters.  Everyone wanted to make sure I knew about it, though, and the messages piled up.  I checked with Reveka for more details and she gave me an earful."       "You still... talk to her?"       Journeyman gave her a look over the top of his glasses.  "I did learn enough tradecraft to stop taking a phone with me.  She hears a lot about what goes on in the Balkans and Eastern Europe, and we swap gossip regularly.  She personally was careful, but she has a deserved rep as one of the best, so she had a lot of clients.  Three of them died within five minutes of each other.  That's a lot of backlash.  Fortunately she's very good at life magic.  I brought a useful potion for her and helped with a few things.  When I left, she was marginally less angry with me."       "Why was she mad at you?"       "Because I didn't warn her.  Nothing I could do; I wasn't anywhere near Earth, and Black Swan didn't warn me.  Besides the personal inconvenience, Reveka's professional rep is going to take a hit, because her former clients are dead and Black Swan is still flying around.  But she'll cope--she's been rolling with change since before the First World War."       Journeyman took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, still looking upset and distracted.  Flicker changed her mind about the question she'd been about to ask.       "I'm glad you were able to help her," she said instead.  "Was this after you talked to the Floater safety physicist?"       "After the first round of translation and clarification requests, before the second.  Then I ported around a bit reassuring some of my contacts who don't trust UPPfones yet, let alone the garbled news reports.  Took a while.  Hearing things through the grapevine can be exhausting when you're the one that has to move the grapes."       "Yeah."       "Then I got the third round of translations, along with that helpful scenario from Learning."       "He's been right about a lot."       "I know."  Journeyman stared down at his hat.  "But that didn't exactly make it any more reassuring to find out that time travel was only the second scariest thing we might have done that day, trying to get back home before your hand exploded.  When I thought about it."       Flicker frowned.  "How so?  Time travel is scary enough.  But I don't blame you.  We ported so quick I didn't have time to stop pushing with probability manipulation, so it might have been my fault."       "And it might not.  You were pushing for survival with data at the test portal.  I pushed safe and fast for our port home.  Hard as I've ever pushed a port.  And holy shit did we get fast.  We got forty million miles in negative seventeen seconds fast.  And yeah, that's scary, even with Novikov self-consistency."       "There are a lot of--"       Journeyman looked up and interrupted her.  "But you want to know what's scarier?  It seems like I jumped us back in time.  But I could have jumped us sideways too.  Not safe to safe.  Dying to not dying.  I asked DASI how we verify that we arrived in the same universe we left, and... we don't.  We just don't."       He waved his arm.  "Then Novikov goes out the window, there's no telling how different our past is from everyone and everything else, and for the rest of our lives we could be finding holes where there should be things that only the two of us remember, because they never happened here."       "Um..."       Flicker sped up.  "DASI?  Is this possible?"       "Please do not become alarmed.  Yes."       She slowed back down, still thinking.  "Okay.  So we can't rule it out.  Is there any evidence for it?  You've been porting around for a long time without anything like that happening."       "That we know of.  But that whole time, Golden Valkyrie has been around.  We all know she can do more than predict the future--she can change it.  Shape it.  But we've never been sure exactly how.  What's the mechanism?  Too many possibilities."       "Here's the one that's been bugging me.  I think it was number seven on Doc's old list."  Journeyman waved his arm again.  "Quantum many worlds, right?  Lots of copies of everything.  How many?  Don't know, so use Doc's measure scale.  Only relative measure matters.  Now Golden Valkyrie decides what she wants in some collection of worlds.  She portals out, to somewhere not causally connected to home.  Takes a look with her Sight.  Then comes back... But only to worlds where the thing she wanted happened."       Flicker frowned.  "What keeps her from appearing multiple times in the same worldline?"       "That weird quantum amplitude addition thing that Doc likes to go on about when he talks about cross-world interference.  She doesn't come back more times, she comes back more likely.  Probability over one?  That just forces the whole worldline to become more likely compared to others.  And there's Doc's measure transfer, which is another thing we don't know the mechanism for."       Flicker stared at the window.  "Shit.  There is some potential evidence now.  I don't know where she was most of the time when I was hunting the Wanderer.  And she was off rescuing The Volunteer during the Xelian attack.  She could have chosen to only come back to where we'd won, both times."       "Yup.  And remember what a big deal she made about me being the one to fasten the Skystone?  Like, maybe, to make sure we could find our way back to the same universe if we got separated?  There's some global causal disconnection for you.  And one hell of a problem if there's more than one driver at a time, and they overlap.  But the Wanderer is dead, Doc has stopped watching Apocalyptic Nightmare Prophecy Theatre, and Golden Valkyrie herself is gone.  So it's at least possible that someone else could manage a shaping without hosing our worldline."       He took a deep breath.  "If I haven't already botched it."       *****       "You weren't tempted to look, after Flicker's Database search for a potential friend and mentor found me?" asked Stella.       "No, I wasn't," said Doc.  "Flicker asked me not to go beyond the minimum needed to make sure you weren't spoofing the Database safety metrics."       "I was spoofing your metrics, and had been for years."       "Not the safety metrics.  DASI could tell you'd done something, but it wasn't her job to find out what.  There were plenty of others who went to extreme lengths to protect family and friends during the Lost Years.  Many of them had no compelling reason to trust me.  And my superhero family safety program started out rough enough even for those who did.  Not respecting your own efforts would have been rude as well as dangerous."       "Unless I was a threat."       "Yes.  And your threat index was negative.  Whoever or whatever you actually were was irrelevant.  You were making things better, not worse.  I was more worried that you'd react badly to Flicker finding you, so I insisted that she respect your privacy and listen if you said no."       "She worried that she was making me more of a target.  When she was inconveniencing me for entirely different reasons."  Stella shook her head.       "So what did happen to the original Stella Reinhart?"       "She died on that boat off the coast of Honduras, along with her parents.  I tracked down the saboteurs because that was what she would have done if she had become anything like the person I intended to be.  All the supernatural overtones were misdirection.  At least at first."       Doc nodded.  "You fit the supernatural vigilante or avatar profile very well.  But I'm curious about something.  The similarities required to make the swap possible made it tremendously unlikely.  If you did enough research to understand the superhero probability distortion effect, you must have also discovered how it can snap if pushed too far.  What was worth that risk?"       "Family.  It was still the Lost Years, and not all of my relatives were evil sociopaths.  Both my aunt and the cousin who trusted me had been through far too much already."       "Why keep the same first name, then?"       A humorless smile.  "I didn't, quite.  My original full first name was Estella.  My mother named me after the character in Great Expectations.  A big clue about several of her issues.  I was happy to stick with Stella because it let me spoof both database reconciliation and naming magic attempts to uncover my original identity."       Doc frowned.  "One-eyed Jack warned me that naming magic was probably used to uncover several people in my program.  But how did keeping a similar first name protect against it?"       "The only version most magicians know implicitly requires the form of name change to be uncommon.  Marriage name changes swamp the signal from mine.  And DASI can tell you all about my database spoofing legwork.  That was what convinced her I was suitably competent.  Didn't make me any happier about being drafted the way I was, but at least she warned me."       "Wait, what?  When was this?"       "She didn't use her name, but she was allowed to contact me under your privacy protocols as soon as I became a potential target for Flicker's search.  And she did.  She didn't tell you because--"       "You weren't a threat.  I see.  Would this be part of the 'relevant but non-urgent background' that she's been dutifully reminding me about for a while?"       "Barely scratches the surface.  But we aren't done with my relevant background yet, which is urgent."       *****       "Mike, it doesn't matter," said Flicker.  "We're still here, there isn't anything you can do about it now, and everyone is still talking reasonably, even if we don't know exactly what they're saying.  And we won't do any more deep space ports together unless it's life or death."       She smiled at him as he looked back up.  "And obsessing over accidentally ending the world is my thing, not yours.  I've got way more experience at it.  So trust me, okay?"       Journeyman snorted a laugh.  "Okay.  What was the good news you wanted to share?"       "Oh!  Ashil thinks she's found a way for me to catalyze the black hole without ever having to physically enter the construction space, based on some of the earlier test data."       "What?  How would that work?"       "Um.  It's easier to explain with a holoprojecter. Science room three at Doc's?"       "K.  I'll meet you there in a sec."

      Flicker ended up mostly listening, because Ashil had been practically bouncing with eagerness to explain.       "Yeah, I can put the active portal area right on the subspace boundary without reopening the portal," said Journeyman, slouching in one of the chairs.  "That's actually easy.  And yeah, I can make it time variant with increasing tension.  But nothing can get through if I don't open it.  I may not know a lot of physics, but I don't see how the subspace gets any smaller after it reaches thermal equilibrium.  There's no way for heat to escape."       "Is way," said Ashil triumphantly.  "Can push on boundary, this side, affect quantum interactions both sides.  Subtract entropy inside.  So boundary can shrink, because of tension.  Lots of energy, entropy outside, but we handle."       "It's like an interdimensional equivalent of Hawking radiation," said Flicker.       Journeyman frowned.  "Wouldn't that be a tiny effect?  And if it isn't, you'd have to have really fine control to keep anything from propagating to the portal edge and collapsing it on this side."       Flicker held up her hand and wiggled her fingers.  "Fine control right here.  And the effect increases with pressure.  Want to know how hard I can safely press on something that isn't made out of matter and doesn't interact with the strong nuclear force?  Really, really hard.  Yes, my hand will heat up, but we'll still be in orbit, so I'll have all of Europa as an entropy sink."

      Half an hour later, Journeyman was still scowling at the technical details of the subspaces he would have to create.  But it was the scowl he got when he was thinking through everything that might go wrong with something he was seriously planning to do.       "Okay.  I'll need to test that and that," he said, pointing at the display.  "And retest that.  And no offense to you and DASI, Ashil, but I'm not willing to say go until Doc at least gives this a once over.  But yeah, there's nothing here that looks impossible."       Flicker let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and found she was blinking back tears.  Not impossible after all.  She hugged Ashil, then Journeyman.       "Thank you.  Both of you.  For figuring out how to make Skybreaker's Forge."

Next:  Chapter 43