#it wasn’t for nothing like within the region it was big news and none of us were expecting to change national policy right then

[wormsdyke]

Damn u rlly got detention for not wanting ur school to get shot up

we really did it was bonkers. the protest was planned in advance and the school knew about it so teachers would gently remind us we would get in trouble if we walked out but very few actually discouraged it because, you know, they also didn’t like the idea of getting shot up. the whole thing went pretty well, the local news came to cover it, several students gave speeches, the names of some students and teachers who had recently died in school shootings were read off before a moment of silence, plans were made for further protests and walk outs on a larger scale that went successfully over the next few months. eventually our school principal came out and announced his support and also assured that no students would face disciplinary action for protesting. and then a bunch of us received disciplinary action for protesting. importantly though, not all of us did, seemingly an indiscriminately chosen group of attendees were apathetically punished and no further action, positive or negative, was ever taken. despite being a relatively small scale movement it was probably the biggest movement against gun violence (or for that matter anything remotely leftist) the whole region had seen, being in the red south. which isn’t directly related but does make it sting a little more that the only response was a few lunch detentions that didn’t stick on my permanent record.

[thetargaryenbride]

Nail To The Coffin - S2 - Chapter 5

Warnings: none

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 3195

↳ "And she ran quickly across the field after the Rabbit. She did not stop to think, and when the Rabbit ran down a large rabbit hole, Alice followed it immediately. After a little way, the rabbit hole suddenly went down, deep into the ground. Alice could not stop herself falling, and down she went too." ↲

A.N: The plot thickens~ As always, please do make me know if I’ve written certain characters OOC and if you think there is something that can be corrected within the story. Thank you for reading. Hope you like it! 🖤 🥀

Masterlist || Chapter 4 || Chapter 6

The car ride had been silent except for the one or two questions you had asked.

Turns out, Hopper had been dealing with some weird cases of poisoned soil back at the farmlands which had resulted in the ruination of this year’s pumpkin crops. He had had no idea how this all came to be at the beginning of the investigation but now he suspected that those vines had something to do with the decay of the crops which is why you were currently traveling to the farms.

“Oh, my God… what’s happened to this place?” you put your hands on your hips as you scooped the region after getting out of the car, noticing the settled rot.

“Jesus, you kids don’t care about anything that’s going on around in the town, do you?” shook his head Hopper and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“It’s not that we don’t care, it’s more like we don’t go out of our way to ask about the local gossip and news.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s kinda proving my point. Now grab a shovel and come help me out.”

You don’t know how long the two of you dug at the pumpkin patch but you pretty much created a whole crater and at one point, as the sun went down, you began to lose hope of ever finding something.

Until you hit something solid.

Something harder than soil.

The two of you struggled to dig through it and thanks to Hopper’s strength and his sharp shoves, you were able to break through the thick vines and create a big enough hole for a person to fit through.

Hopper dropped the shovel and crouched to the opening.

“Stay here, alright? Guard the entrance,” he instructed you before he lowered himself down.

He took out his flashlight and looked around, noticing the numerous amounts of vines and other growing things that were all over the place which looked like a tunnel. He jumped when he heard a noise and whirled around, eyes widening when he saw you coming down.

“What are you doing!? I told you to guard the entrance!” he snapped and you sent him a glare.

“I’m not letting you go alone!” you answered firmly and the two of you had a staring contest before he clicked his tongue and turned his back on you, lighting the road ahead of you once again. It was only then that the two of you noticed the floating particles, making your eyes almost pop out of their sockets and jaws hit the ground.

“Oh, Jesus.”

“You sure you still wanna be all alone in here?”

“Great…just wonderful,” you grumbled as you walked after Hopper, mindful of your feet so you don’t trip on a vine or rock and fall. “As if last time wasn’t enough of an experience, we’re back in the Upside Down again. Or rather the Upside Down is beginning to grow into our world! I don’t fucking know anymore, man.”

“I had a feeling that these sons of bitches were lying to me,” Hopper matched your energy as he pointed his flashlight at anything and everything so you could better inspect the tunnels while moving forward.

A sound echoed all of the sudden, making the two of you jump and look around frantically but there was nothing.

You turned around and walked backward, eyes on the other side of the tunnel, almost back to back with Hopper, until he stopped, making you bump into him and whirl.

“What’s wrong?”

Before you could even properly finish the question, you felt a very familiar sensation of particles invading your nose and mouth as they were being sprayed onto you. Apparently, Hopper was a victim as well because just like you he also coughed and sputtered as he tried to frantically get away from the growing thing on the wall that sprayed the moldy particles.

You hastily took off your jacket and were quick to hold it over your mouth and nose. Thankfully, you hadn’t inhaled much so you were fine except for the slightly blurry vision and nauseating feeling.  

“Hopper, cover your face! Don’t inhale any of those particles or you’ll get sick! Get away from the walls!” you yelled at him but it was too late because another flower bud sprayed particles onto Hopper’s face.

The man staggered as his knees buckled and shortly after he fell on the ground unconscious, hat falling off his head and flashlight rolling away from his grasp.

“Shit!” you cursed as you rushed to him and knelt by his side. “C’mon, man, you can’t do this to me!” you shook his shoulder roughly and tapped his cheek but he wouldn’t budge. If he was at least a little bit conscious you could have forcefully induced gagging so he would throw up and cleanse his organism at least a bit from the toxic particles. But he was unconscious and forcing him to throw up would more likely end up with him choking than anything.

You dug your palm into your temple as you shut your eyes and tried to think of a plan.

“Alright, old man, hang in there. I’ll go get us some help, ok?” you told him even if he couldn’t hear you and stood up, going over to the hole you had made.

Only, there was no hole.

“What in the actual hell?” you muttered as you looked at the ceiling but there was nothing. “It was right here!”

You went further down the tunnel and inspected the whole area thoroughly but alas, there was no exit and your frustration and panic were growing more and more by the minute. It had apparently closed and you were now trapped down here with no way out. If only you had told someone that you’d be coming here, you would’ve had a chance at being rescued. But now it was almost impossible.

“Unless,” you whispered under your breath as you observed the two sides of the tunnel. It was a tunnel so it definitely had a beginning and an ending. So what if there was an opening on one of the sides? “Alright, so maybe the situation is not completely and utterly hopeless,” you allowed a small smile of relief to grace your face as you returned back to Hopper’s side and sat down by him.

You just had to wait for him to wake up and then the two of you would keep on going and hopefully find an exit. Meanwhile, you had to make sure that the two of you wouldn’t end up inhaling any more toxic particles.

“I’m sorry, Hop. You’ll have to get yourself a new uniform,” you said as you grabbed his knife from his back pocket and began cutting his sleeves off.

Will shot up in his bed, sweat coating his forehead, eyes wide and filled with panic, and heart beating rapidly as he remembered the vision he had gotten in his sleep.

He knew it wasn’t just a dream. It was reality – memories from that creature.

He had seen both you and Hopper trapped without a way to escape. He had seen Hopper collapse and you struggle to find a way out. And for some reason, there was this sinking feeling in his stomach, as if a premonition, telling him that the two of you might end up dying very soon. He didn’t know if he knew that because of the weird connection he had formed with the monster or if it was because he had suddenly become a psychic but he knew that he had to do something to save his sister and the man who had saved his life.

“Will? What’s wrong?” asked Mike as he rose from his lying position on the floor and Will could only spare him a brief look before jumping out of bed and marching into the living room where he saw his mother sitting on the floor, seemingly deep in thought while observing the taped drawings.

“Mom!?” he called out as he came to a stop behind her and she quickly whirled around.

“Yeah?”

“I saw them.”

“You saw who, baby?” she asked with scrunched-up eyebrows and evident confusion and he gulped.

“Y/N and Hopper…I think they’re in trouble,” he stammered out as his panicked eyes watered. “I think they’re going to die.”

Hopper came to with a sharp gasp, scaring the living daylights out of you, and you frantically rushed to grasp his arms and help him up on his knees, nose scrunching up in disgust when he threw up stomach fluids mixed with black goo. You wondered if that was what you had thrown up back when you had been stuck in the Upside Down and got sprayed at too. The thought repulsed you.

“Hey, you ok?” you asked after a while, waiting for him to regain his bearings and he nodded, standing up.

“What happened?” he rasped out.

“You inhaled quite a lot of those moldy spores so you blacked out. They tend to do that... You were out for the whole night,” you explained tiredly and he coughed.

Once again, you hadn’t slept a wink. You had dozed off a couple of times but the stress and the distant unfamiliar sounds, never mind how distant and slight they were, had been able to keep you awake.

“Jesus, kid, why didn’t you go get help?” he asked and you could tell he was about to scold you so you lifted a hand in surrender.

“Before you go into cop mode and berate me, you have to know that the hole we dug out is gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean by gone!?” he raised his voice as he picked up the flashlight and turned it on so he could inspect the ceiling.

“It got closed off. One moment you were on the ground and I was checking your condition, next moment I’m standing up, ready to bolt out and get help from mom, only to see a solid ceiling and no hole,” you shrugged and he looked at you incredulously.

“So, we’re trapped, is that what you’re saying?”

“Pretty much, yepp,” you groaned as you stood up, shaking off the numbness of your legs. “But, you never know what we might find at the end of the tunnel, right? There must be an opening. And we are going to find it and get the hell out of here. Meanwhile, take this,” you handed him the piece of clothing you had cut and he took it, already knowing what its purpose was as he began tying it around his mouth and nose like you had done hours ago already.

“Alright then, kid. Let’s move forward,” he nodded and the two of you began walking ahead. You noticed him pull out his cigarettes and your eyes widened in realization.

“Can you stop?” asked your brother as he pulled the cigarette out of your mouth, making you frown.

“What’s the big deal? You know that I smoke.”

“But never this much. You’re practically leaving a trail of cigarette butts.”

“Well, if we get lost or snatched by the monster into its world, at least people will be able to track us down thanks to my trail of crumbs,” you sassed. “So, don’t be a sourpuss, Hansel!”  

Hopper was a genius. You quickly took out your package of cigarettes and pulled a couple out of it. Simultaneously with Hopper, you dropped them on the ground before you proceeded to walk.

“Does anybody copy? Look, if anybody copies, this is Jim Hopper, Hawkins’ Chief of the Police,” spoke the man into his radio com and you shook your head.

“I don’t think the signal is strong enough to reach anyone out there. I tried a couple of hours ago and there was no response,” you informed him and the two of you let out dejected sighs. “Uh, Hopper? Those vines are unsettling me. They weren’t that alive last year,” you made a face and let out a sound of disgust at the squelching the vines were letting out every time you stepped on one. “I think we should avoid them.”

“Look around, kid. It’s impossible to not step on them. They’re goddamn everywhe-“ he halted in his step when something crunched under his booth.

He flashed the light downwards and the two of you did a double take, eyes widening at the sight. The whole floor was covered in the bones of animals. There were animals that were still rotting and one that seemed to be half alive and kicking which scared the hell out of you when you had nudged it with your boot.

“If there is dead prey…it means there is a predator,” you said with a shaky voice as you cleared your throat, trying to steady it.

“So there’s another monster.”

“Or multiple others.”

“Yeah, let’s not…let’s not jump to the worst possible scenario,” Hopper gave you a tight smile and you rubbed the bridge of your nose in defeat, sliding your fingers across your forehead hoping to massage away the dull, throbbing headache that had settled some time ago and had not let you out of its grasp for e second. “Hold this for a second. I wanna try somethin’,” he handed you the flashlight and you took it, pointing at the wall. He lit his lighter and brought it closer to the vines. It surprised both of you that they seemed to back away from the heat.

“You think…do you reckon that fire is a weakness?” you asked and Hopper rubbed his chin, observing the place, before he took off his uniform shirt, grabbed an animal bone, and wrapped the fabric around it, lighting it on fire.

And once again, the vines screeched and moved away when he shoved the torch their way.

“Alrighty! Now that’s good to know,” you chirped and he nodded.

“Hold this,” he passed you the flaming object and you grabbed it, holding it cautiously while you watched him try to dig.

“Why are we stopping to dig here? I don’t think we can make an opening and escape from this place. We should continue and see what’s ahead of us,” you tried to reason but he shook his head.

“And what if we end up meeting one of these little shits at the end of the tunnel? Nah, I ain’t taking that risk, kiddo,” he grunted and you took a sharp breath. He had a point. But you still didn’t believe that you’d have any success here either.

And you didn’t.

Hopper tried his best to dig as deep as possible but nothing seemed to work and he finally gave up, plopping on the ground. You stuck the torch in the soil and sat on a small boulder across him, the two of you lighting cigarettes.

“If the vines fear fire…is it a reach to think that fire is the Demogorgon’s weakness?” you asked before taking a long drag and blowing out a cloud of smoke. “I mean…we won’t have any success trying to find an exit here so we might as well go forward. And if we do end up meeting a monster, we can use fire,” you suggested.

“That’s a very big what-if,” he drawled, smoke sipping through his mouth and nose as he twirled the cigarette between his fingers. “Because if we’re wrong and fire cannot hurt that thing, we’d be killed in an instant.”

The two of you let out heavy sighs, Hopper coughing a bit, and fell into silence.

Suddenly, you felt something wrap around your ankle. You scrunched up your eyebrows but before you could voice out your thoughts, you were yanked harshly. You were barely able to let out a strangled squeal before your head hit the boulder you had been sitting on and the world began spinning instantly.

“Y/N!” Hopper yelled as he rushed to your side and reached to grasp your arms and turn you on your back but before he could do that, vines wrapped around his calves and began pulling at him.

He shouted in anger and panic as he tried getting rid of them, stumbling a couple of steps away and losing balance in the process, falling on the ground not far away from you. He turned to look at you and saw that vines were rapidly wrapping around your body. He struggled to get free but his arms and legs were obstructed as well and he could only yell in frustration as he tried reaching for his fallen knife, only to feel a vine wrap around his throat and steal part of his oxygen, making him dizzy.

“Kid…if you can hear me…answer me!” he choked out but you didn’t budge.

Your eyes were closed and there was blood sipping in the mud.

“Y/N! Hopper!” Joyce’s voice echoed throughout the tunnels as she and Bob searched for the two of you. For a moment there she had thought it would be hard to find you but then she had seen a trail of cigarettes which led her straight to the place you were at.

“This is…” she muttered as she stopped to inspect the large space littered with vines and bones. “Oh! It’s his arm!” she pointed out and she and Bob were quick to crouch down and begin pulling at the vines.

“It’s choking him!” pointed out Bob panicked as he tried to pry the thing wrapped around Hopper’s neck and the man was able to finally take a breath.

“Knife,” he rasped out and Joyce frantically looked for the object in question.

She and Bob did a quick work at cutting the living plants and releasing Hopper from their trap. He coughed and sputtered as he tried to regain his bearings and stand up, Joyce grabbing him by the face.

“Hop, where’s Y/N!?” she asked and Jim didn’t waste time as he pushed past her and stumbled further into the tunnel, Joyce and Bob following.

The woman let out a terrified gasp as she saw her daughter lying motionless on the ground and she quickly knelt by your side, furiously grabbing and pulling at the vines while Hopper cut them off your limbs and torso one by one. When you were finally free, your mother flipped you gently on your back and pushed the damp hair away from your face, grabbing each side of your head and inspecting you, eyes widening when she saw the smeared blood.

“W-what’s wrong with her, Hopper! Why isn’t she moving!?” she yelled wobbly and the man hastily grabbed you, hauling you over his shoulder.

“I think she hit her head when this piece of shit yanked her,” he grumbled as he stumbled away from the clutter of vines, intending to bolt out of this place.

That’s when people from the lab stormed in, startling everyone.

“Go! Go! Clear the area!” yelled one of the soldiers and the three didn’t waste a second in obeying.

The most important thing right now was to get you and Hopper to the lab so you could get the needed treatment.

What neither of them expected was for Will to get a seizure and get hurt as well.

[aelaer]

The Blood in My Veins: Pt 4

Heyyyy I'm back. Now that one of my big fic projects is done/being rolled out I can concentrate on getting this finished (as well as other prompts). Here are the earlier parts if you can't remember what happened in this long-running prompt fic, since my last update was like, the summer.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Prompt (via @ironstrangeprompts that I can’t tag for whatever reason qq): Kidnapped to play doctor for a still unseen other prisoner; Stephen realizes there is only one person on the planet who would have palladium in their blood.

The Warnings: Okay guys, I want to cover all bases for this part and all parts henceforth. The bad guy I've written here really really sucks. He's a complete asshole. Part of his assholeness can include behaviors such as racism, sexism, homophobic remarks, religious bigotry, and overall just being a terrible human being. This terrible human being is not a typical representative of his nation/culture and is very thankfully fictional. There's plenty of Canon-Typical Violence around, too. All of the above are not be in this specific part but could be in future parts (I'm writing this as I go so I truly don't know, I just know he’s a dickwad). I didn't know this section was gonna happen until I finished Part 2, for instance, otherwise I'd have put a note at the beginning. I'd consider the fic a heavy teen fic, if you're looking for a rating, so it shouldn't get to graphical violence beyond what you'd see in high teen rated content. Also, there's going to be Medical Procedures in the future, though more clinical rather than graphic. Hopefully that covers everything, please ask me anything if you have a question.

I always put these longer writings on tumblr into "read more" cuts, but the mobile app does not always work correctly if you're looking at the original post from my tumblr, so I apologise for the length if you're on the app and viewing the original and said cut is not working. Still unbetaed, all errors are mine.

--------------------------

Part Four: Seeing Red Again

Another three days passed with little change in Stephen’s schedule. He went for his sleep shift at 12:30 a.m. New York time, and was woken up by one of the others between 5:20 to 5:30 a.m. It wasn't enough time for even two full complete sleep cycles, but everyone there—perhaps with exception to Steffen Baar, who was a chemist—had gone through grueling schedules during medical school and residency. So they were, in some ways, used to it.

After waking up, he had fifteen minutes to shower, shave, and change into the clothing about his size, provided for by his captors. From there, he then got to work. His sleep shift ended about three hours before dinner came—about 8:30 a.m. New York time—and a small snack arrived at what he assumed was this place's midnight, but was 2 p.m. according to his watch. Breakfast came twelve hours after dinner, at 8:30 p.m. in New York, and he went to bed again half an hour after midnight. Apparently while he slept, another snack break came for those awake.

The one small blessing in all of this was that the people holding them realized the power of caffeine and provided black tea and coffee every time they brought them food. He didn't think there were any cameras in the showers or toilets, either, which was—hopefully true. There was nothing obvious and, truth be told, he didn't really want to look much further for evidence.

Throughout his waking day, Stephen largely helped prep samples for blood analysis. He tried to strategize with Summer about how to best utilize their resources, should a surgery be required, but they had little to go on. They had yet to receive better X-rays of their patient—of Tony Stark, which still baffled Stephen—so much of their planning was about logistics.

"Doctors in the United States are required to complete a surgical rotation in their third year of med school," Stephen said, "so Jada will know basic surgical procedures. Do you need to do the same in the UK?"

"Yes," Summer answered. "All doctors go through the two-year Foundation Programme which always includes training in general surgery. So Dr Mahajan will be able to assist us as well."

"They can serve as our nurses and techs," Stephen muttered. "But what about Dr Baar?"

Summer pursed her lips together. "No medical training—but I would rather have him on hand than not. If we said we can't use him…"

Stephen grimaced and nodded. "Point. He can certainly hold a retractor." He blew out a breath. "We'll need a heart-lung machine. Those aren't easy to come by."

"None of this machinery is," she pointed out, jutting her chin to the advanced machinery scattered around the room. "I don't think that will be an issue for us. Whoever these people are, they have resources."

He pursed his lips together. "We also need an anesthesiologist."

She paused at that and sighed. "Yes. Yes, we need one of those. Unfortunately, I think we're going to be working with someone on their team if the surgery happens."

Stephen made a face. "What makes you think that?"

"When they first showed me the X-rays, I told them I would need another surgeon for the spinal area—you—and an anesthesiologist. They only spoke about finding me a surgeon, so they must have their own medical team that includes one."

He sighed. "Of course they do. He better be competent."

Summer shrugged. "Not much we can do about it. And there's not much more we can plan on this hypothetical surgery until I have better X-rays."

And so that ended that discussion and, three days later, there were no changes on that end. No new X-rays had come in, so both he and the other surgeon were stuck helping prepare samples and input data. And Stephen hadn't been so bored in years.

One wouldn't think that being captive would be boring, especially if one was doing medical work during that time. But when said medical work was repetitive lab work he hadn't done since med school? And doing it for about fifteen hours a day for three days straight with no music, no reading, no nothing to help bring some distraction or variety to his work? It was absolutely mind-numbing. A small part of him wasn't entirely sure if he could survive like this for—how long did Jada said Stark had to live without a cure or intervention? Two months? He couldn't do this for two months. He was going out of his mind after three days.

It was about halfway through his shift on the fourth day that he regretted ever thinking that he was bored.

He was typing up results from various tests performed by Jada when the door to the room was suddenly slammed open. Startled, Stephen immediately turned towards the sound, only to see five men enter, all of them with guns pointed to the rest of the room. Beside him, Jada immediately threw her hands on top of her head, and he quickly followed suit.

"Come quietly! Do not fight!" said one of the men. Stephen couldn't even begin to guess his accent; maybe it was Eastern European? Russian? Former Soviet bloc in Asia? Somewhere in that rather wide region of the world, which wasn't particularly helpful information considering there were some twenty to thirty countries there.

Summer was the doctor currently asleep, though looking over his shoulder, Stephen saw that she had woken up to the sound and was pushing herself up. But he couldn't look at her or the other doctors long as he was grabbed by one of the men and forced to walk. The gun the man carried quickly negated any ideas of retaliation.

They were led down a hall; he could see Steffen, Meera, and Jada in front of him, all being led in the same rough manner he was going through. The walk itself wasn't very long, perhaps a minute, but to Stephen it felt like every second was dragging. Despite his best efforts, his heart was starting to race at this new development.

The man with Steffen finally stopped in front of a door and unlocked it, then shoved the chemist inside. Within seconds, Stephen was at the door and being pushed forward himself. He took a quick look around, as much as he could without moving much: a large room with concrete walls and no windows, just like where he and the other doctors were being kept. Cot in the corner. Table with a computer and covered in bits of wires and electronics that he couldn't begin to label. Two other men armed with enormous guns—some sort of automatic rifles—and then one man who was crossing his arms and staring at him and his fellow doctors with a look that immediately put Stephen on edge. This man, this man radiated the air of a person in charge.

And then there was him. The famous Tony Stark, or Iron Man as he was calling himself these days. He looked like a former shadow of himself, being several pounds thinner and bearing a sickly pallor that Stephen immediately noticed, even during these circumstances.

A look of surprise was upon Stark's hollow face, but even as Stephen focused more upon him, it was quickly replaced by the cool anger of a man biting his tongue.

All five doctors were maneuvered to face Stark in a line before being forced to their knees. Stephen bit his lip to hold back a grunt of pain from his knees hitting the concrete floor.

"You say you are 'calling my bluff' with your medical team," said the man. He pushed himself off the wall and passed out of Stephen's line of sight. "Here they are." He started at Stephen's right as he went through the doctors. "Steffen Baar, chemist." A step closer. "Jada Ferguson, hematologist." Another step, and he heard Doctor Mahajan inhale sharply. "Meera Mahajan, pathologist."

Another step, and the man was behind him. To Stephen's utter horror, he felt cold metal press against the back of his head. "Stephen Strange, neurosurgeon." The metal then left his head and he heard another step. "Summer Weston, cardiothoracic surgeon." Another step, and he could see the man in the corner of his eye again, this time on his left.

Tony Stark kept his lips pressed in a tight line as their captor went through the line. When he finished, the billionaire swallowed and looked at them all. "Good job keeping me alive this long, docs," he said.

"Not good enough, Stark," the man snapped. "Their solution is only a band aid. They give you but a few more weeks. They are called the best doctors in the world, and they cannot yet make a cure?"

Stephen forcefully held back his retort regarding the man's utter ignorance. It was an outright miracle they found any sort of solution as quickly as they did to delay the spread!

Stark, it seemed, agreed with him, and had no such reservations with holding back. "That's insane, Yusifov. It takes teams of doctors months, if not years to create what you're looking for."

He couldn't see it, but Stephen could almost feel the sneer from their captor, this Yusifov. "In that case, you don't need this many doctors, do you?" A couple steps and he was again behind Stephen, further to the right. "I'm no doctor, but as far as I can tell, these two both look at blood and try to fix the problem. Neither of them fixed it, not fully. So who do you want to keep, Stark? The black American or the Indian Brit? One less woman won't make a difference."

Stephen dared a glance to his right when he heard quick breathing. Doctor Mahajan was visibly shaking and starting to hyperventilate; to her right, Doctor Ferguson was quiet, but her lips trembled and tears pricked her eyes.

Stark stepped forward, and several guns rose at the action. He stopped but held his ground, raising his hands. "Don't do this."

"Why not?" the man retorted. "You refuse to work because you are dying. They have failed you and one will pay the price. Perhaps both; they are both from lesser races."

As Stephen processed the fact that he heard a comment like that in fucking 2010, Doctor Mahajan's breathing accelerated into full on hyperventilation. His medical mind noticed it immediately.

But another was quicker to the draw. "Breathe through your nose, Meera," Summer said lowly. "Try to inhale for one-one thousand, then exhale through pursed lips. You can—"

"Shut up!"

Doctor Weston was smacked on the back of her head hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor.

And Stephen snapped.

Now, if one were to ask Doctor Stephen Strange, he would by no means consider himself heroic or noble. His role as a doctor was one of service, but even within his relatively short time as a neurosurgeon, he had already gained a prestige that recognized his rising star and already people in the medical community were considering him in the top ranks of neurosurgeons. Soon, demand for his expertise would be large enough for him to have the option to turn away those who weren't worth his time, and he felt not a lick of guilt for that. His skills were valuable.

But to hear this brute of a man first throw slurs at two of the most brilliant women—no, the most brilliant doctors—in their fields followed by an outright assault on the other caused a protectiveness Stephen hadn't felt since his sister's death to completely overtake him. He saw red.

He leaped up at Yusifov in a fiery anger, no particular idea in mind except stop him from hurting anyone rushing through his head. At this point there was little thought, only adrenaline and a near primal fury running through his veins. It wasn't like him to be so hot-headed; he was a man who kept his cool under the most stressful of circumstances. But perhaps several days of poor sleep combined with the stress of the situation finally got to him. When he thought about it in the aftermath, even he would admit he had no idea what he was thinking.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision he would come to regret.

In one moment he managed to knock the pistol out of Yusifov's hands and punched him in the face. He recognized screaming, shouting, fighting in the noises behind him, but he was focused on his own target.

Stephen hit him twice more before someone threw an arm around his neck and dragged him back and began to choke him. He clawed at the arm, which did nothing, but then he aimed his heel down right to the sensitive part of his attacker's instep. The man grunted in pain and the grip around his neck loosened. 

A shot shattered through the enclosed space, causing Stephen to freeze in surprise—and that proved to be his downfall. He saw Yusifov raising his pistol just before he was whipped across the face with the weapon. The hit threw him off balance and he fell to the floor and lay there for a second, stunned. He felt wetness on the side of his head.

As Stephen attempted to push himself up, a kick to his back sent him back to the floor. An involuntary grunt of pain escaped him. He closed his eyes, pausing for breath, but was given little time to recover as he was grabbed by both arms and dragged up to his knees. From his new position, he could see the rest of the room once more, and Stephen's heart skipped a beat at what was before him.

There were several alarming sights: Tony Stark on his knees just like him, nose bloodied. One of the gunmen near Stark with a screwdriver sticking in his neck and very much dead. Summer in the corner of the room, holding a shaking Meera against her chest.

And Doctor Steffen Baar on the ground, bleeding out from his stomach as Jada desperately tried to stem the blood flow with her sweater. The red dripped through the fabric and onto the concrete.

Stephen felt ill. He instinctively reached forward towards Steffen, to try and help, but the grip on his arms tightened and kept him in place.

Stark was the one to speak first. "Let them help him. I won't fight further. I'll do what you ask."

Yusifov came back into Stephen's line of sight as he stepped in front of him, though his gaze was on Stark. He said to the engineer, "You killed one of my men. A life for a life—that is fair, wouldn't you say?"

"He did nothing," Stark hissed, pulling against the hands that held him down. Stephen could see the men pull him back and tighten their grip in response. "And he's needed. You wouldn't have brought him here otherwise."

"He didn't do anything," Yusifov agreed, then turned to Stephen. "This one did." He then sent a sharp kick into Stephen's stomach, causing him to double over in pain as far as the men holding him  allowed. He almost missed the next statement. "And I should kill him for it. But the surgeon will be needed. The chemist, though? He failed to make a cure for your ailment with a month of time, and you don't have much longer to live, Stark. The chemist failed, and at this point, he's a waste of medical resources."

Then Yusifov nodded at one of his men, and he grabbed Jada by the arm and yanked her up to her feet.

"No—please, no, don't do this!" she shouted as she was dragged away from Steffen. Their captors ignored her and Yusifov walked up to the wounded man. He aimed his pistol at Steffen's head.

"Don't do this!" Stark shouted.

A shot rang through the room. A loud sob came from the corner before it was muffled. Stephen's ears rang, half deafened from the sound. His stomach churned; he felt like he was going to vomit. He hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to breathe slow breaths through his nose.

All he could smell was blood. He forcefully suppressed his gag reflex. 

Stephen missed whatever conversation came next, too busy trying to calm his breathing, trying not to throw up, and not having the energy to make out the words beyond the ringing in his ears. But then the world was moving as he was pulled to his feet and shoved out of the room, leaving behind Tony Stark and the body of Doctor Steffen Baar.

-----------------------------------------------

I was stuck on what I wanted to do with this part with a handful of ideas and consulted my beta for ideas. She suggested death which I wasn't even thinking of because I'm very bad at killing off characters. I blame her fully :P

Tag list (just let me know if you want to be added/removed with a comment - still not on AO3!): @sobeautifullyobsessed, @tashacumberbitch, @babywarg, @nishtha3012, @ragingstillness, @walkin-in-the-cosmos (I think the reason I can’t tag you is because you’ve flagged your tumblr for sensitive media, possibly), @lafourmii20, @asexualchemist, @iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife, @oo0-will-of-the-wisp-0oo, @animefanfreak45, @rulerofthefandomsnow, @killaspyglass, @renlybaratheon-tyrell, @symmetria42, @kay-lock-key-lock

[cibeewastaken]

So like your ficlets destroy me EVERY time they cross my dash. DESTROY. In the best way. They're gorgeous. So here I am, asking for more destruction, apparently?? For the way you said "I love you" game--nr 18, from very far away? ❤️

WOWOWOW Thank you!!! I’m so glad you like them!!! They’re really fun to do and I like trying new things with them, so really bless yall for sending prompts

18. From very far away 

Draco had been away from England for three weeks, and Rome for two weeks when he stepped foot on Capri Island. He knew he should contact Pansy first, but he hadn’t found a payphone yet, and the magical office at Rome told Draco that none of the Capri residences were magic; uses of magic should be limited or preferably not at all. Draco privately thanked this little miracle, no owls, Floos, Apparition or Patronus was allowed! That way Pansy couldn’t be able to tell where he was from his magic, and she won’t be able to show up at his doorstep like in Rome. Draco was just relieved that she didn’t go as far as telling his location to Harry, or any of his cronies.

After Pansy showed, Draco had found a new flat the next day, leaving the old one and a note for Pansy, and didn’t leave his room until he was sure Pansy had given up and left Italy. Then Draco spent his days sitting in numerous cafés, ordering coffee after coffee, basking in the sunlight, staring at the crowd and not bothering to see anything.

And his plan at Capri was similar, except sunlight was practically nonexistent this time of year, and it was drizzling when he stepped off the ferry. When Draco looked out to the ocean, he could only just make out the outline of Italy. Faint enough to pretend it wasn’ t there, and that England wasn’t somewhere beyond that, too. 

By the time he arrived at the lodging, the sky had turned purple, and his feet ached from traveling without magic. Draco didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even a cabbie. His place was more of a villa than a flat, with ivy-wrapped pillars on the balcony, overlooking the foggy ocean and lights of houses. Draco dropped his satchel, shot a hazy spell at his feet, then fell asleep on the couch.

---

Little shops and narrow alleyway painted pale yellow comprised the region Draco was staying. It seemed lemons were a symbol here. There were lemon trees everywhere. Shops sold lemon themed everything: tea towels with a map of Italy and it’s various kinds of lemons (they all looked the same to Draco), plates, espresso cups, lemon tree seeds, lemon candies. Delizia al Limone and liqueur limoncello was on every menu. Draco wandered into a small shop to smell the place more than anything, but he left with a bag of candies. Instead of sitting down in a café, he found a bench by the port and allowed the fog to permeate him as he chewed on sticky, sour treats. Before going home when the sky went dark and remembered he hadn’t called Pansy. There was a payphone some distance away from the villa, Draco pushed in coins until it beeped, and he called the rarely used number.

It took a while for her to pick up, Draco suspected it was because she didn’t remember where the phone was. 

“Hello?” Pansy said through statics. 

“Hi,” Draco said, tapping up the glass walls of the phone booth. 

Pansy didn’t say anything for a beat, then, “Potter came this morning, again.”

“Did he.”

“He’s been driving me mad, just send him an owl so he’ll get off my arse, will you?”

Draco humphed, not responding to the jab. “I’m just calling to tell you I’m okay.”

“If you were okay, you wouldn’t be Morgana knows where right now!” Pansy said. “You could have just stayed with me! I could have warded my house so hard that Potter’s balls would shrivel into raisins if he even thought about coming near.”

“Your house wasn’t far enough,” Draco murmured. 

Pansy sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we all know Potter didn’t mean any harm. He’s truly incapable of it.”

“I know that, Pansy,” Draco said. “But what does it matter if he meant it or not, when he ends up hurting me anyway?”

“He’s fucking dense, that’s why!” Sounds of clacking: Pansy drumming her nails. “He didn’t realize he’d been taking you for granted.”

“I know he didn’t!” Draco snapped, really pushing down the urge to blow up this payphone so Pansy’s eardrums would burst before the line cut off. “I know I’m being stupid, and selfish, but he was back to England for a week and he didn’t tell me! I went home after work, every day, waiting for his owl, not even his person, just his stupid, fucking owl, to let me know he was safe and home, and not bleeding out in St Mungo’s or worse!”

“Draco — ”

“And I wouldn’t even know if Granger hadn’t had the decency to tell me, so — so — ”

And so what? Draco didn’t know, so he slammed the handset back and buried his face in his hand, tears welling up, telling himself it was because Pansy was being annoying, that’s the reason. Draco fell to a crouch, ceremonially refusing to admit he was crying over stupid Potter like eleven-year-old Draco had done.

---

Capri’s weather didn’t let up in the following week. Draco had gotten used to walking out in a drizzle to the port and finding something to sit. Cats around the neighborhood had taken to following him because Draco put on warming charms before leaving the house. He sat by the port and chew on lemon candies until his stomach hurt. He walked back and listened to the portable radio he brought so he wouldn’t be completely lost when he decided to go back. Then he slept on the couch, the huge bed untouched still.

---

Draco was opening a bottle of cheap red he got from the market when the radio’s regularly scheduled program was interrupted by a special interview. Draco rolled his eyes and took a sip, sighing in content. Even cheap reds here was better than most things sold in England. The host prattled on excitedly before a throaty laugh interrupted her, and Draco stopped in his movement.

“Mr. Potter, I cannot say enough how honored we are to have you,” the host said.

Harry laughed again, an uncomfortable one, but it didn’t seem like the host could tell. Draco dropped down to the couch, sinking into the blankets and pillow, red spilling. 

“What changed? Why do you suddenly want to take up this offer?”

“I admit it’s for a selfish reason,” Harry’s voice said. Draco’s heart pounded. His limbs felt weak and tortured. There was a steadily spreading stain on his shirt. 

“And what’s the ‘selfish’ reason?” the host asked, as though they didn’t believe Harry was capable of that emotion. 

“I’m looking for someone, and I know he listens to the radio every day … ” Harry’s voice trailed off and broke near the end. There was a stretch of deep breaths. 

“Mr. Potter?” 

“Yes, sorry,” Harry said, though his voice was still hoarse. 

“Who is this person that made you take such a measure to look for? We all know how much you value your privacy.”

“He’s — was, is? My boyfriend,” Harry said. Draco wished he could see Harry’s face.

“Oh,” the host said, clearly taken off guard yet pleased they got the scoop. “So you’ve been in a relationship.”

“Yes. For a while now.” Harry went quiet. “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m really not here for an interview. I just need him to know — I miss him, so much, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for being so stupid and scared and just, not realizing how much you thought of me. That’s … I didn’t think someone would care about me so much. I’m sorry — ”

The host sounded scandalized. “Mr. Potter — ”

“ — for not realizing,” Harry sniffed. Draco closed his eyes. He’d never seen Harry cry before. Draco had always been the one to tear up first and Harry would always stop whatever they were doing to hold him. Harry continued, “ —  I had been using separation to run away from separation,” Harry said. “For not seeing how much ache I was causing you. For thinking that I didn’t love you so outrageously that nothing should have been big enough to scare me,” Harry sucked in a shuddering breath. “Yes, I love you. Please, I love you. Where are you?”

Draco slumped into the couch. His face dropped backward like his neck had decided to stop working. He squeezed his eyes shut at the ceiling even though there were no one here to see him cry. Across the ocean, in England, Harry was sniffling for the whole world to hear. And that did Draco in. He didn’t want Harry to cry.

Draco stumbled out of the door into the rain. Cats were hiding under his belvedere. Draco paused to cast a warming charm until they all stopped shivering. Then he went on, felt his way around the streets until he saw the tiny light in the distance.

The glass was slippery when Draco pushed it open, and he shivered, fingers gripping the phone as he pushed in coins and coins. The Wizarding Telephone Centre did not appreciate Draco’s shivering speech, but passed him along to the Wizarding Wireless Network. The employee there was even more grouchy.

“Mr. Potter is in an interview right now!” the woman said.

“Please,” Draco said. “Just ask, please? If he refuses, then hang up.”

She grumbled and muttered. Whooshing sounds signaled the memos being sent out, and Draco dropped his forehead to the glass, focusing on the rain hitting it instead of the clattering of office noise. He was in the only bright thing within miles. Capri was asleep in the dark, except for a tiny phone booth with a tiny lightbulb amidst tiny raindrops.

Then, “Uh,” she said. “Mr. Potter is here to take — ” Then sounds of the phone being wrenched away, and Harry’s frantic “sorry, sorry!”

“Harry?” Draco said, quiet. 

Then Draco could hear Harry’s shivering breaths. Surely it wasn’t cold and raining at the Wireless office. Surely Harry wasn’t coming down from bearing his heart out to everyone for the slight chance that one person would hear it. Surely Harry wasn’t holding back tears at hearing Draco’s voice, that would just be unthinkable.

“Draco,” Harry said. “Draco, it’s you. It’s you?”

“Yes,” Draco said. Then, disconcerted, “You’re not still on air, are you?”

Harry laughed. A nasally sound. “No. I don’t — I don’t know what they’re doing now.”

“Okay,” Draco said, unsure now what the next thing to say was. He hadn’t spoken a word to anyone in such a long time.

“Draco, Draco.” Harry was saying, as if he was making up for lost times. “Draco, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Harry,” Draco said. “I know you are, but — that doesn’t change — ”

“I know,” Harry said. “I’m really awful at this, Draco.” Miserably. “You’ve just always been there, and I really thought you’d always will, but that’s not how this works, is it? I didn’t realize I’d been doing that. I didn’t know you’ve been waiting. I was so scared of you thinking I was a burden, someone you had to make an effort to take care of. I’m terrified one day there’d just be too much you think that comes with me and decides I’m just not worth the effort.”

“There seems to be an abundance of you thinking what I thought and nothing about you actually asking me what I thought,” Draco said.

“Hermione said that too,” Harry said. “She was really angry when she found out I hadn’t told you I was back. She said not wanting you to see me recovering isn’t an excuse.”

“It’s not,” Draco blinked slowly, tiredly.  

“I was afraid you’d ask me to give up the Aurors.”

“And you know this how?” Draco said, pressing his aching eyes to the cold, gently vibrating glass. “You asked me, did you? Wrote me a little note, hm? Asked me when I was asleep and wonder if my snores are actually Morse code for ‘Quit your job and be my trophy husband’?”

Harry sounded oddly pleased when he said, “Husba — ” before Draco cut him off, 

“It’s so stupid,” Draco said, now really getting into it. He’d not said a word for the last three weeks and Harry always was the best person at getting Draco to break. “It’s one of those things I hated because everyone liked it, and as far as I could tell, this thing made people miserable than happy more often than not and then I hated it until I tried to think, maybe this thing is actually nice and there’s a reason people like this — this stupid, wretched thing. So when I got over being mean and childish about it I had allowed myself to finally fall in love, and after I did I wondered, oh god, god, why weren’t more people doing this?”

“Draco — ” Harry breathed. And Draco cut him off once again, 

“No, no. I understand. I’ve never said it to you as well. But can’t you understand that it’s difficult for me, more so because it’s you? Did it make any difference that it was you? Perhaps if I had fallen in love with anyone else, it would have been just love. But to me, when it was you, it scalds me. Of course it made a difference when it’s you. And it never really occurred to me what happens if I had been falling in love alone. And for someone who has been doing most things alone for most of my life, I should have really thought about it before letting myself think it was safe to do so.”

“Draco,” there Harry went again, saying his name like he was using it to cast a Patronus. “You weren’t doing it alone.”

“I know that now,” Draco said petulantly. “Found out on the radio!”

Harry laughed, and Draco knew what he was going to say, but he didn’t think his heart could take it the second time if Harry wasn’t there for Draco to fall into. And he was dangerously close from saying the words himself, like a little monster had crawled from his chest and was trying to pry his lips open. So Draco stared at the glass of the phone booth very hard, enough he’d only see the night outside, and said, wetly, “I would have never asked you to quit.”

“Draco. Draco, are you crying?”

“No,” Draco said, crying. “It’s just raining here.”

“Where’s ‘here’?”

“Not saying. I won’t have you Gryffindoring here like some … some … ”

Harry sounded like he was smiling. “Like some Gryffindor?”

“Yes, that,” Draco said lamely.

Harry started to laugh. “God, I miss you. I keep … I keep wanting to talk to you. The other day Ron wore a bright purple robe with neon pink and orange patterns — ” 

“Oh god,” Draco choked, delighted at the image. “Oh my!”

“Yes, yes!” Harry sounded so happy. “I knew you’d like it, and I just wanted to go home and tell you about it, but — ”

Draco’s laughter died down. He chewed on his bottom lip.

When Harry spoke again, his voice was soft. “I wrote it down, in a notebook. Other stuff, too. Things I saw that reminded me of you, or things I wanted to tell you. Things I knew you would get a laugh out of. I just … ”

“Harry,” Draco said. 

“I miss you,” Harry said again. “I know I messed up, can I  …  can we  … ”

Harry sniffed. Draco felt very sad, and very cold. He could only fix one, so he cast a warming charm.

“I’ll be at home,” Harry said. His voice was getting statics.

Draco banged his knee against the glass, cursing himself for forgetting he was using a completely muggle phone. “Harry, wait — ” Draco didn’t think it was wise to use magic to fix it. He fumbled for his wallet, but his fingers were stiff from the cold and gripping the phone too hard; coins scattered across the floor. “Wait — ” 

“I’ll be,” Harry’s voice came through weakly in pieces. “Draco? I — ” 

Draco dropped the phone and crouched to snatch up a coin blindly. Even one penny would be plenty more time. When he pressed his ear back to the phone, he caught onto the last of Harry’s words, “ — home.”

The rhythmic beeps of disconnect tone continued until the payphone finally gave away. 

“Harry?” Draco said into the phone, pressing the switchhook and got nothing but silence. “Harry? Harry. Harry — ”

---

Draco put out some food by the door and renewed the warming charm. “I hope you all won’t get attached,” Draco said to the cats; none of them were paying him any attention. “But I shan’t be here any longer to help you. Go find someone else tomorrow. Stay dry, stay fat, and maybe I’ll see you again one day.”

He wired the rest of the rent over to the owner and left the key under the flowerpot, then he made his way back down to the port alone for the last time. Draco bought a ticket for the next ferry and sat down to wait. Then he felt a little odd sitting there with nothing but his luggage. Draco squinted up at the bright sun, and took one last look at the pale yellow walls and narrow roads before jumping up and dashing into one of the little shops. 

“Silly me, almost forgot,” Draco said to the shopkeeper as he placed a bag of lemon candies on the counter. “Souvenir.”

The shopkeeper rang up his purchase. “So you do talk.”

“Just in a good mood.” Draco grinned at her. “I’m going home.”

(The way you said “I love you.”

Other “I love you”s)

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 19: the day of judgement

Only warning is MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS hehe but also after this chapter, this is diverging from canon so strap in.

AO3 link

“It’s not very fair, is it?”

“Hmm?”

The waves crashed upon the rocks, breaking into a harsh white mist. The short coastline quickly gave way to a mighty mountain range, shielding them from whatever lay inland. 

“You get to come out here and enjoy the sea, while your family is forced to stay inside. Why don’t you let them come out sometime? As a little ‘vacation’ or something.”

The sea roared. It howled in some strange language, almost like a taunt.

“Ah… I see. Well, they aren’t missing much. This place is cold and wet… the sun never shines. In our old home, there was nothing but blue skies and sparkling sea. This really can’t compare.”

At long last, the man who squatted by the edge rose to his full height. His robe rippled around him in the wind, but in an oddly controlled movement. His hair, pulled back out of his face into a ponytail, let a few stray strands out to dance in the gale, leaving the mark in the middle of his forehead exposed. He was a man in the image of serenity; but Morris had a feeling that he wasn’t really a man at all.

“I feel like I should be a little insulted, Mikal.” Morris shook his head before looking out at the horizon again, a little smile on his face. “This is my home, after all.”

“You don’t love it though, do you?” Mikal finally looked over at the man, his eyes narrowing slightly despite the smile still etched into his youthful features. “You don’t love anything, Morris.”

Mikal was unusual in many ways. Well, this whole situation was unusual. Almost 80 years ago, the Simulcians were driven from their home after a natural disaster. The remaining survivors were just Mikal, his parents, and his four older siblings. They fled to the shores of their only ally: the Diamond Kingdom, where they agreed to lend their power to the military in exchange for a private colony on the coast. This was long before Morris was even born. After making his way into the Royal Science Department, Morris was assigned to the Simulcian outpost, and was surprised to see that their numbers had risen dramatically. The group of seven was now going on 30. Mikal gladly let Morris into their tower to show him his work. New Simulcians were bred artificially from his parents’ cells, and then they were kept in “safety tanks” until they were 18 years old. Then… they were synchronized.

Morris barely understood what it meant to be “synchronized.” The Diamond Kingdom had been familiar with the “Dyad,” a bond between two people which shared/combined their mana, for years. But Mikal somehow managed to create other bonds as well: A tetrad between four people, and a septad between seven people. Morris had no idea what Mikal was trying to do, but something about it was oddly… ominous. 

No… Mikal would never let his family outside. He would never let them out of their tanks, or their links. He trapped them in that prison forever.

Did Mikal truly love them? 

“Maybe you’re right…” Morris finally replied. “Although, not entirely… maybe I don’t love anyone, but there are some things I love. How could I not…” He turned his gaze away from the sea and back towards the mountains. “I was born blind, you know... I had to fight hard to find a way to see. And now…” His glasses glinted in the overcast light. “I have the whole world at my disposal.”

“Hm… I wonder what you’ll do with it.”

Something about Mikal’s words sent a shiver up Morris’s spine. Neither of them could have known it now, but oh… the things Morris would do. The world really would be at his disposal.

But today, they were just two men standing on the rocks. Well… a man and something close to a man, at least.

“Tell me… when you finish whatever it is you’re planning, what’s going to happen?” Mikal raised an eyebrow at Morris’s words, but Morris could see right through his innocence. “I know it’ll be big… whatever it is, you’ve spent nearly a century getting ready.”

“Who says I have anything planned?”

Morris gave Mikal a long look. 

Finally, Mikal let out a long sigh. He stretched an arm over his shoulder leisurely before turning to look back out at sea. “Well… maybe I do. But would you really like to know? I’ll tell you if you promise to stop being so nosy.”

Nosy? That’s ironic, coming from you. Morris nodded his head though, eager to hear Mikal out.

“Well… it’s a little complicated.” Mikal crossed his arms. “You know the Goddess we worship, yea?”

“Oh… yeah.” Morris wracked his brain. “Simon?”

“Simulcia,” Mikal corrected. “Simulcia was a goddess of fate… her magic could pin down destiny as she pleased.”

“Pin down?”

“Fate is like the ocean. It’s like a rippling fabric in the wind. But Simulcia threw pins out over that fabric-” Mikal motioned his hand as an example. “Where each one landed… fate itself was fastened to that spot. Just a few points in time and space… that is the Dyad. My parents, those before them… and maybe those after them. Although, if everything goes according to plan, I doubt there will ever be another Dyad. But that’s not my decision to make. That pin has yet to fall, and I cannot stop it if it's destined to.”

Morris was barely following at this point, but slowly but surely started to understand. The power to manipulate fate itself? How strange. So, because of actions long ago, there are certain aspects of our future that cannot be changed? “What does that have to do with your plan?”

“You see… things have changed. Simulcia is long dead. The only way to access her consciousness is by linking up with other Simulcians. We were never meant to be separated. Our true state is together. Mikal weaved his fingers together. “But like I said, we’ve strayed from that path. We made contact with humans after millenia of isolation, and we changed. We’re becoming more like you… We no longer wish to be together. Maybe there’s some kind of value in our independence, but it is against Simulcia’s will.”

A spark of anger slipped through Mikal’s eyes, barely visible among his pitch black gaze.

“Humans… they want to drive us apart. I didn’t want that to happen. So… I will force Simulcia’s will upon everyone.”

…

…

…

Morris wasn’t sure why he walked away that day. Without asking Mikal more. He never asked again, and for some reason he didn’t try to stop whatever it was Mikal was trying to do. In any case, 20 years later, Mikal and his whole family disappeared without a trace, and a new Dyad was created in the Clover Kingdom.

Simulcia’s will?

Is that… why Simulcians exist? To enact her will?

But, in the end, wasn’t Simuclia’s will already enacted? In the form of fate?

What more is there to do… we are all slaves to fate.

At least, that’s what Morris thought. The years passed, and the shape of his life squirmed and bent until it was unrecognizable. He took sight, he took power, he took knowledge… and he put it into his own hands. And now, the power of three devils dwelled within him as well.

Simulcia is dead… That much I know.

Morris gazed up at the tree as it grew. Its branches cracked and groaned under their own enormous weight. Fueled by the two men trapped within their coffins, it towered up and up, breaking through the ceiling as it reached for the sky.

Fate is dead. The only two people bound to it now are the Dyads. 

The castle rumbled as the fighting intensified. But Morris paid it no mind. He just stood there, his hands in his pockets, and stared up at the spectacle with two stolen eyes.

Now, we create the fate of the world with our own hands. And its fate is the Qliphoth. 

An unearthly sound spread out over the scene, screams and creaks and a shrill, descending howl.

That’s it then… the first gate has opened. The dark triad will be up to 100% soon. The rebels are busy with the demon we released, and soon… the Clover Kingdom will know the wrath of the other.

This time, there will be no one to save the world. 

--------------------------------------

Except, maybe there was. 

This time, my path leads north. Wind and rain and a dull rush of air course around my body as I take flight, my eyes watering slightly from the pressure. But it doesn’t matter; I keep flying.

Despite how overcast the day is, the sun is shining once again within my heart. Hope, love, joy, they all live there, and I can’t help but smile as I zoom towards what I hope will be the final battle of my life. Any wish to become a martyr, any wish to start over, any wish to give up everything, is gone. All that pumps through my veins is the determination to win and to live.

Because, now I know that there is still something to live for.

Adeline, Marx, Joy, all my friends and family, they all deserve to see a brighter future. A future that I will create, not through destruction, but through hope. 

All I have to do is win this fight, save Yami and William, then go home to the family I can still salvage.

My final days, I’ll spend them with Adeline and Joy. That’s the only way it should be. Maybe I’ve committed sins that I will never atone for, but I still deserve to be happy in those final days.

BOOM.

I’m suddenly pulled from my thoughts as a loud sound bellows through the air. Almost like thunder, but deeper, a sound that rattles the very earth. I slow down a little, then look to the side. My breath freezes in my chest for a brief moment as I see what it is: a giant, unearthly creature, higher than the tallest mountain. It has scraggly, thin wings that arch up over its body, and three glowing eyes in its head. 

No… it can’t be…

It is none other than the creature of legend, a giant demon god. It ignores everything as it trudges forward slowly, just passing over the border of the Grand Magic region when I reach it. There are towns and settlements ahead that it will surely trample, but its glowing eyes are fixed on the tiny hill in the distance, the hill that holds the capitol, the castle, and the king.

There’s a couple of reasons that it could be here, but the most likely one is that the Spade Kingdom somehow summoned and released it here to cause as much damage as possible. But in the end, it doesn’t matter why it’s here.

All that matters is that it must be stopped.

The fear, running like ice in my veins, starts to melt as both my hands heat up. Without another thought, I make a sharp turn in the air, and instead head right towards the horrible beast.

There’s not a second to lose… 

I clench my fist, to keep my hand from shaking, but also to concentrate mana there. I release it in waves, traveling out and down my arm and into that fist. With a spark, it bursts into intense blue flame, numerals already spiraling around it. 

All this magic… all this power. Only part of it is mine.

I squint my eyes a little, speeding up. One of the demon’s eyes catches onto my form.

Julius… and Patri. I can feel both of your wills within me.

Julius, who I loved, and Patri, who I thought I hated.

No… not hated.

Despite the memories of those horrible moments flooding back, I smile. Because, in the end, they both give me the strength to fight today. 

But it’s not just them.

A crown glints upon my head, and a robe flares out behind me as I fly. For the first time in my life, they aren’t heavy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I deserve them.

I… I am the Wizard King! 

Light starts to spark around my hand as I draw it back, charging up magic. The light starts to shine brighter and brighter, like the sun inching up and up over the horizon, bathing the world with warmth. With hope.

And for that reason, I have to protect my Kingdom. 

The Demon turns its head toward me, opening its gaping, toothy mouth. An orb of demonic energy crackles within its maw, getting ready to shoot out at me with all its power. The sight of it does nothing to hurt my composure, and I open my own mouth to let out a yell. It spurs me on, and my body rockets towards the beast faster than I’ve ever managed before.

For that reason, I will protect this WORLD!

I swing my fist, and finally release my first triple-attribute spell.

With a flash of light like a supernova, my fist connects. For a moment, there is no sound, but I can feel the entire world vibrate within my chest. 

The demon’s head basically implodes, its three eyes bursting apart as it’s hit. It doesn’t have time to roar or shriek; the ball of energy within it collapses, and it gets blown back across the border into the strong magic region. Its bottom half is still intact, and the trunklike feet BOOM once, then twice, then one last time as it stumbles backwards. Then, it falls, almost in slow motion.

But by this point, I am long gone. The dust from the impact billows up behind me as I just keep flying, making a beeline to the Spade Kingdom. The sound of the fall was enough to confirm my kill, and there isn’t a second more to lose. I don’t look back, just keep my eyes on the next objective ahead.

Yami and William, I’ll save you, no matter what!

The snowy peaks beneath me are a blur, my eyes clouded by both adrenaline and the light that shines from them. My whole body feels like it's on fire, the thrill of that moment still coursing through me. Acceptance and determination cycles around each other, fueling my flight further and further. I’m not sure what I will find across the border, but whatever it is, I am ready to take it on.

My duty is to win, and to survive! 

A few minutes later, something shifts in the atmosphere. Like a magnet, an unseen force tugs at my body, no, at my soul. My eyes widen a little when I realize what it is. 

Something… is pulling my mana in.

Then, I see it: the capital of Spade, almost completely destroyed by a sprawling mess of branches. I can feel the unnerving energy coming off of the wood already; this is no tree that exists in our world. This is the Qliphoth. There’s other presences here too- sending a familiar chill up my spine.

Devils…

But, according to Nacht, the first gate wasn’t supposed to be open yet? Did they have some way to accelerate the growth?

It doesn’t matter.

I clench my fist again, summoning more mana to replace that which was being sucked in by the tree. 

I’ll end it now, today. No more gates will be opened. And even if they do…

The black mark upon my forehead tingles slightly, almost familiarly.

I will beat them.

Right at the moment I summoned more mana, it was felt simultaneously by everyone below.

Nacht’s eyes widened as he stared ahead at the two twin Devils standing before him. No way… you fool! He wanted to look back towards the sky, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his foes, not now that the situation had turned so dire. You’re just going to get yourself killed… there’s no way you’re in any condition to fight!

Maybe that was the case. Maybe even moving was draining away my life faster than I could afford. But nothing will stop me from moving.

Morris’s smile falls for just a moment. He turns slowly to look up through the cracks in the ceiling. The tree… it’s responding to a great source of mana… incoming…

Then, he smiled.

This… this may be exactly what we need. It all depends on you three…

At that exact moment, those “three” sensed me as well. From three different sections of the castle, wings of blood, wings of bone, and wings of flesh unfurled. Three pairs of eyes, crazed and fueled by the new surge of power within them, turned towards the sky.

“Finally…”

“How exciting!”

“I didn’t think we would meet on the battlefield…”

Dante’s sharp, elongated teeth curled into a malicious grin as he retracted his power from Jack, who he had been pummeling a moment ago. Lucifero’s power was up to 100% now, and he was ready to fight anything and everything he could. Morris assured them before this that the Wizard King would be out of commission, but here she was, very much alive, heading right towards him.

Right into the palm of his hand.

With a loud, evil laugh, Dante shot up and away from the battle, towards the source of the presence. A strike from his fist burst right through the ceiling and let him escape into the cold night air. As soon as he was out, Dante looked to his left and right, spotting his siblings, who had the same idea. Vanica’s face was twisted into a sadistic grin, but Zenon remained composed; While Dante and Vanica had fun on their minds, Zenon was evaluating the very serious consequences that might come from their actions.

The tree reacted to her mana, I felt it too. If we can let it suck up more and more from her-

It’s right then that I spot the trio heading towards me, black shadow streaming in their wake. That’s them! That’s the Dark Triad! My heart skips a beat, and I let my Grimoire flip open once again. It starts to glow, and power starts to accumulate in the palm of my hand. 

This is it, at last!

Defeat these three, and we’ll win, I know it already. My mind starts to shut down, zeroing in on the imminent fight. Like a tunnel, all I can see is them.

Fight… fight them… WIN.

I spread the fingers of my hand as I start to raise it. My feet swing down from behind me to slow my body down, bracing it for impact. Light starts to shine from my palm, and all at once it elongates into a broad, bright sword.

This is Patri’s sword… but…

The light intensifies further, concentration. The light starts to thin and elongate further, into one, long blade. Just like an epee, the tip sharpens to a deadly extent, like a needle poised to pierce skin and flesh.

“Light magic: Judgement Day!”

I finally clench my fist, grasping the handle of the sword. I tear my eyes away from its length and back towards the Triad. With a grin, I point my new spell at them. The mana around me solidifies under my foot, and with one mighty push, I lunge.

Moments before collision, Dante’s eyes catch onto the black mark on my head. And for a fraction of a second, something within him hesitates. 

That mark… how does she have that mark-

The thoughts don’t catch up with his body, and he hurls himself at me with the fury of a typhoon.

None of us are prepared for the outcome of the next five minutes.

AAAAAAAA next time: chapter 20. There is a massive fight. Morris gets his way, and something terrible happens... as usual.

[seanbeansimp59]

Watchdog of the North (Part One)

Hey all! This is my first fic to post here, and I’m really excited to see what you think! Feel free to leave any comments or criticisms you’d like--I’m always happy to listen! I will be posting part two once I’m done writing it (which should be by next weekend at the very most) so stay tuned. 

I’ve had this concept floating in my head for a while and I figured I’d write it down for once in my life. It’s the story of a shapeshifter who lives in the woods outside of Winterfell and protects the surrounding countryside. In all honesty, I have yet to watch Game of Thrones, so if some of my knowledge is incorrect, not only is it excusable, it is to be expected. Please go easy on me. 

Winter in Northern Westeros was brutal, it always had been. The bitter cold settled deep into brittle bones and encased the lungs of any soul brave enough to step outdoors. Everything was coated in a brilliant white, blinding in the sunlight and gloom alike. Outside was unbearable, indoors wasn’t much better, but the forest? The forest was a death wish, save for one.

The Shifter.

Unlike the villagers, the Shifter lived in the forest. For years it wandered alone, estranged, more of a bedtime story than a living being. Children were told tales of a massive wolf that roamed between the trees, standing over two metres tall at the shoulder with huge yellow eyes and sharp white fangs. This wolf, according to legend, was not actually a wolf at all, rather a man who had been twisted by fate into a ravenous monster. “He still walks among the trees,” parents would warn their wide-eyed charges, waving their hands like wolf paws. “And if you wander off alone in the woods, he’ll snatch you up and scarf you down!” Of course, the story was an effective method of keeping children safely indoors, especially during the brutal winter months, so very few believed the tale of the Shifter in the forest. For years, it remained a legend and the people remained unworried, safe within the walls of Winterfell.

But the Shifter was real, very real indeed. And unbeknownst to the citizens of Winterfell, it did much more than devour children and slink unnoticed through the snowy drifts. It protected. When troubles came from the south, the Shifter slayed the attackers before they reached the village. When a pack of direwolves began to devour the livestock, the Shifter killed their alpha and drove the rest from the region. Time and time again, though the villagers knew it not, the Shifter continued to keep them safe from danger with neither thanks nor acknowledgment to keep it sated. It knew one thing and one thing alone—to protect.

Years passed. New leaders came and went, changing Winterfell for better and for worse. The Shifter never left, never stopped protecting. It stayed among the trees, always watching for any new danger yet never exposing itself, for even in its human form, it was intimidating. It stood at two metres tall with a wild mane of charcoal black hair, its skin viciously scarred from the battles it fought for Winterfell. Memory of the Shifter had all but vanished, and for the moment, it intended to keep things that way. Yes, it would protect, but it would do so from the shadows. That was how it had always been. At the moment, the land resided under the care of the very capable Lord Eddard Stark. He and his wife, Catelyn, had four children whom the citizens loved very dearly—Robb, Sansa, Arya, and Bran, with Catelyn heavily pregnant with a fifth child. Life went on rather the same in Winterfell, full of its comings and goings, sparing no thought for the being lurking in the woods.

One particularly sunny afternoon, the children of the Lord of Winterfell decided to take an outing to the clearing near the village. It wasn’t far from the outskirts of Winterfell, and although the children were all rather young, they were extremely capable of surviving in the cold, as their father had taught them such skills at a young age. Once they’d said goodbye to their father and hugged their smiling mother, they scampered off, bundled up in furs and cloaks, giggling and chattering as the cold air nipped at their reddened noses and cheeks. Into the woods they raced, scooping up handfuls of the freshly fallen powder and making little spheres to sling at each other. Robb, a rambunctious lad of eleven, began pelting his younger siblings with snowballs, causing them to stumble and stagger about, spitting snowflakes to the ground and flailing blindly in irritation. The littlest ones, Bran and Arya who were four and five respectively, decided to join forces with Sansa, their older sister, and collectively they launched an attack that left Robb completely overpowered. His mood soured rapidly as he found himself being mercilessly barraged with snowballs, and he began to lash back in annoyance. Aiming blindly, he flung a snowball directly into Arya’s face, stinging her eyes viciously and making her fall on her backside into a rather large snow drift. Quite suddenly she burst into tears, swiping furiously at her face to get the snow away.

“Oh Arya, come off it,” Robb scoffed lightly. “It’s just a bit of snow, it’ll melt in a moment.”

“That hurt, Robb,” she cried in reply, rubbing her eyes miserably.

Sansa, ever the negotiator, put her hands on her hips and turned to him. “Robb, you ought to apologize. That was awfully mean of you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” he protested. “I’m not going to apologize for Arya being a big baby!”

There was silence for a second. Then Arya’s lower lip quivered, and she turned swiftly on her heel, storming from the clearing in a huff.

“Arya-” Sansa began, but Robb held his hand up.

“Don’t follow her. She’ll be over it in a minute or two.”

Sansa nodded. After all, Robb was probably right. Arya’s little outbursts didn’t typically last more than a half hour, so she’d be back in a few minutes and they could go back to playing. With that, she began to help her brothers build a snowman, almost completely forgetting about Arya’s anger.

 As they resumed their play, a very disgruntled Arya marched through the woods, not going to any particular place or in any particular direction. Rage throbbed in her ears and made her head hurt and she found herself muttering aloud to the silent snow. “Why has Robb got to be so horrible? That really did hurt, and he had no right to bash me in the face like that! It was only a silly game. I hate him.”

The longer she walked, the angrier she became, and the angrier she became, the less she paid attention to where she was going. Lost in her own head, she crashed deeper and deeper into the forest, stomping furiously through the trees, smacking their branches in irritation. After a while, she heaved a deep breath and finally looked up to find herself in a very unfamiliar clearing. Leafless trees stretched menacingly into the sky, their spindly branches scraping in the breeze. All around her, the snow stretched into the distance, the now-setting sun making it glitter and shift with the dying rays. She had no idea how long it had been, but it was getting darker by the minute and she realized just how cold she’d become. A bitter wind began to whip through the trees, biting her cheeks and piercing through her clothes. Shivering, she pulled the furry cloak closer around her and turned back in the direction she’d come. Her angry path through the snow left a clear trail to follow back to the clearing, so with any luck, she’d be back very soon.

Luck, as it seemed, was not on her side.

The trail wound back and forth through the towering trees, seemingly erratic and mindless. Time wore on and Arya found herself becoming desperate and increasingly irritated with herself. The wandering trail was taking too long—the sun was already kissing the edge of the horizon and there was still no sign of the familiar buildings of Winterfell. Even though she was very young, she knew that once the sun went past the horizon, her chances of making it through the bitter winter night were very, very low. She began move faster, hurrying as best she could along the trampled snow. Tears pricked her eyes and she swiped them away in anger, stumbling through the bone-white drifts. Much to her dismay, the increased effort did nothing but exhaust her, and she could only watch in terror as the wind slowly ate away at her previous footsteps. Behind her, the sun dipped lower still and shadows fell long across the land. All alone in the woods, surrounded by nothing but cold unfeeling snow, Arya Stark began to sob.

 Back in Winterfell, the village was in an uproar. Eddard and Catelyn had watched three of their four children come racing back into the village square, Sansa and Bran sobbing uncontrollably while Robb’s face was as white as the snow in his hair. In a tiny, halting voice, he explained that Arya had run off into the woods and she hadn’t come back. His body shook like a leaf in a gale, and he couldn’t meet his father’s horrified gaze. Robb knew it was his own fault, that if he had just apologized to Arya none of this would have happened, and he was deeply ashamed.

“We tried to find her,” Sansa wailed, running into Catelyn’s arms. “We tried, Mummy, honest we did!”

“I believe you, dear,” Catelyn murmured, stroking Sansa’s hair. “I believe you. It’s going to be alright.”

Ned was already rushing past the little throng, heading to the stable as quickly as his legs would carry him. He called for the guards in a rough voice, moving to where his horse was tied. He vaguely heard Jory, the captain of his guard, reassuring him, though the words were far away and blurry. Ned’s foot was in the stirrup, his hand gripping the reigns as he swung onto the horse’s back. One thought pushed to the front of everything, one brutally awful reminder that stilled the very blood in his veins. We have to find her before the sun sets, or else….

His mind wouldn’t let him finish.

He dug his heels into the horse’s side, thundering out into the village alongside his guard, sword gleaming at his side, torch burning brightly in the dying light of the sun. His face was grim, his jaw set like stone. “Hold on, little one,” he growled. “I’m coming.”

 The sun set like it did every day, unaware of the chaos left in its wake. The moon took its place, though it were nothing more than a silver sliver hanging amidst the sparkling stars. Beneath the pale light, something moved, something massive. The Shifter was awake, prowling about in the powdery snow as it had done every night for the past eighty years. Nothing much moved in the woods these days, it thought to itself as it padded along between the trees. Everything was peaceful and still, save for the occasional travelling wolf pack, and danger hadn’t reared its ugly head for almost five years. Yes, the Shifter mused, nothing much had happened. Everything was good. Everything was quiet.

No sooner had the thought crossed the Shifter’s mind than a sharp shriek split the frigid air like a knife.

The Shifter’s head snapped up, its yellow eyes scanning the snow before it. What was that? it wondered. It was so out of place in the serenity of the snow that for a moment, the Shifter thought it was simply hearing things. Then, again, that same cry rose into the sky, this time more intense and terrified. It sounded like a child. Without another thought, the Shifter broke into a sprint through the trees toward where the shriek had originated.

It wasn’t long before the Shifter found the source of the voice, and when it did, its blood ran cold at the sight. A little girl, no older than five or six years old, was cornered against a huge boulder by a pack of snarling wolves. Her grey eyes were wide with fright, tear tracks running down her reddened cheeks. The largest wolf took a step towards her, saliva dripping from its sharp fangs as it sized up the little girl. She whimpered in fear and cowered away, shielding herself from its gaze.

The Shifter had seen enough.

In a single bound, it threw itself between the wolf and the little girl, spreading its massive paws wide as it faced the leader of the pack. For a moment, nothing happened. The wolf seemed a bit nervous, having never seen something so huge, but the girl whimpered again, and its mind was made up. It gave a sharp snarling bark and lunged at the Shifter, red jaws gaping.

The Shifter met it halfway.

With a visceral tearing sound, the Shifter’s fangs ripped into the wolf’s throat. Red splashed hot against the cold snow and the wolf lay still. Silence covered the clearing for just a second as the wolves hesitated, but the lull was broken as another charged. The Shifter whirled and snapped at the neck. It missed but recovered quickly, grappling with another assailant that attacked its turned back. Another wolf leapt. And another. The Shifter’s teeth ripped into flesh and fur and bone. Howls and yips turned the sky into a symphony. Pain bloomed through the Shifter as fangs sank first into its shoulder, then its belly. Fiery agony pulsed in its veins. It bit down hard and heard a squeal. A wolf fell motionless to the snow and didn’t move again. Scarlet touched the ivory, salty iron tingled in the crisp air. The Shifter’s eyes were blazing, its jaws clamping on exposed fur, and another wolf didn’t stand. Where once were five, only two now stood, tails tucked and ears flat. The Shifter staggered, swayed a bit, but braced itself once more, baring bloodstained teeth at the survivors. Without hesitation, they turned and ran, disappearing into the trees.

The Shifter heaved a broken sigh, its body aching as blood dripped from its wounds onto the snow. Amidst the pain it remembered the frightened girl and turned to where she lay, shivering and shaking. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, her lips and nose already a shade of blue. The Shifter had seen many lives lost to the brutal cold, and the little girl was already nearing the point of no return. She needed to be warmed, and fast.

Wincing in pain, the Shifter dropped to the ground next to the girl, curling its massive, furry body around her like a living blanket. It pressed its muzzle against her brown hair, breathing gusts of hot air against the trembling form. Within its warmth, the child stirred, and the Shifter sighed in relief. She would be fine, given enough time. However, she would need better care than the Shifter’s rudimentary medicines could provide, and the Shifter knew that she must be returned to Winterfell as soon as possible. At least, assuming she was from Winterfell. Moving a bit, the Shifter scanned her little body, trying to find any indication of where this girl resided. A flash of bronze around her neck caught its eye, and it used its muzzle to coax the little chain from within the folds of her cloak.

The Shifter’s heart skipped a beat—proudly engraved on the pendant’s face was the Stark Crest.

Suddenly anxious, the Shifter’s eyes focused on the little girl. Could she be one of Lord Stark’s children? Was it possible? If his child were missing, Winterfell would be in chaos and gods only knew what frightened villagers would do in such times. A father who had lost his child was more dangerous than any beast, and a father in a position of power whose child had gone missing? The Shifter swallowed thickly. This was much more urgent than it had anticipated. It knew it needed to get the girl back to Winterfell as quickly as possible, likely before the sun rose.

Staggering to its feet, the Shifter looked down at the trembling girl. It could hardly carry her into the village in its jaws in the form of a massive wolf, not with the entire village on edge as it was. No, this journey would require something different, something just a bit less frightening. For the first time in months, the Shifter would have to shift, assuming a human form to deliver this girl to her anxious family. However, it couldn’t keep her warm as a human, not without some form of fur or clothing. Shifting to such a body left it naked, and skin wasn’t near as insulating as fur. The Shifter had clothes, true enough, as well as some pelts and furs, but it would have to take the girl back to its den to retrieve them. Would she make it that far? For that matter, would the Shifter make it that far? Its wounds certainly weren’t minor, and it was bleeding rather badly—could it carry the little girl all the way its den and then through the streets of Winterfell? It honestly wasn’t certain.

But as it debated, the little girl stirred, whimpering a bit as she curled closer in on herself. “Daddy…” The sleepy whisper left her mouth, dreamlike and frightened in her half-conscious state. The Shifter’s heart ached, feeling a rush of warmth and determination flood its tired body. It had protected her this far, it wasn’t about to leave her here to freeze. Stooping down to her stiffly, it opened its jaws and took her clothes between its teeth, lifting her like a mother wolf would lift her pup. Then, letting out a lightly pained growl, it turned and began to plod through the woods, the girl swaying slightly beneath its head as it walked deeper into the forest. The Shifter would protect, as it had always done, no matter the cost.

 Back in Winterfell, the house in the center of the village was as silent as a graveyard. Catelyn sat with her children in the great hall, pacing anxiously back and forth in front of the blazing hearth. Robb was gazing blankly at the wall, his mind wandering aimlessly from worst case scenario to worst case scenario. Sansa sat on the floor, holding a trembling Bran in her lap, playing with his curls as he whimpered softly. Night had fallen long ago, and Ned had not yet returned. The cold was seeping through the floorboards as it always did, and with each passing minute the dread sank deeper into their bones.

It’s too cold. The thought gnawed at Catelyn’s mind like frostbite. Worry ate away at her soul, nibbling at her heart and making its home among her insides where it lay, writhing and twisting wickedly. It's too cold for her to be…. She shook her head viciously. No. Such thinking was pointless and only served to further distress her. It would do no good to have such doomsday thoughts, not with her children already being consumed by the same anxiety that plagued her every breath. She was their mother, and as their mother she was to be a stronghold. Not torn asunder by the realization of just how cold it was and just how small Arya was and just how dreadfully unlikely it was that Arya was still…. Alive.

Just then, heavy footsteps sounded through the echoing halls. Catelyn’s head snapped up to see a familiar form moving into the room, shrugging away the snow-speckled furs as he walked. She tried to push aside the realization that his shoulders were slumped in defeat and that each step seemed to drain him more than words could convey, but it was painfully evident. His eyes, so grey and bleary, met hers for just a moment before darting back to the floor. Her Ned had returned empty-handed, and Catelyn felt herself sway.

“Cat….” His voice faltered and he trailed off into silence.

“Daddy,” Bran whispered. “Where’s Arya?”

Catelyn saw his body shake, watched the labored breaths leave his heaving chest. He wet his lips to speak, but no sound left his mouth. The room stayed still as death.

“Children, you need to go to bed,” Catelyn found herself saying, though her voice was far away and foggy. “It is late, and we are all very tired.” Moving slowly, she helped Sansa and Bran to their feet, ruffling their hair. “Go on, dears. We’ll see you in the morning.”

The children, knowing better than to argue with their mother, gathered themselves as best they could and made their way to their rooms. All of them felt a growing sense of gloom and anxiety, but none of them could bring themselves to say so. For now, they could only wait.

Once the children had left, Catelyn turned to Ned, who had fallen into the armchair, his head in his hands as he gazed blankly into the fireplace. “We searched everywhere, Cat,” he mumbled. “We lost her trail on the other side of the old riverbed.” His voice broke and his shoulders began to shake as silent sobs racked his body.

Catelyn moved to his side, placing a slender hand on his arm, kneeling by him, and resting her head against him. She was dreaming, she knew it. She would wake up in a moment, wrapped in his arms and see little Arya running wildly through the great halls, brown hair flying and grey eyes sparkling with laughter. It was all some dreadful nightmare, she told herself. Just a horrible nightmare. But deep down, she knew it was no dream, that somewhere in the woods her little girl was freezing and alone, lips turning blue, fingers turning black, body going still, and heart beating slower and slower until….

A choked sob left her lips despite her best efforts. She tasted blood where she’d bitten her cheek to keep it in, but now the tears were flowing, and she couldn’t stop their onslaught. Ned’s form shifted as he rose to his feet and his arms slowly came up to wrap around her, warm and strong and familiar, only this time he could offer little in lieu of comfort. They stood before the fire, clinging to each other for dear life.

“I tried, Cat,” Ned wept. “I swear I tried.”

“I know,” came her reply, muffled by his shoulder. “I know.”

But trying wasn’t enough and they both knew as much. Ned had tried his best, yet Arya was still lost in the cold. Nothing they could do would save her now; all they could do was wait. And wait they did, wrapped in each other by the roaring fire, praying silently to whatever would listen, a plea from their bleeding hearts rising to the skies like the smoke from the hearth—please bring her home.

 The forest was still and silent, snow sparkling cruelly in the soft light of the moon. Crunch, crunch, crunch, broke the trance-like hush as a form made its way slowly through the trees, limping lightly with each step. The Shifter walked upright for once, though it was unused to being on two legs rather than four. Primitive bandages were wrapped around its torso underneath a simple tunic, its breeches were ill-fitting and loose, and its feet were clad in a pair of boots that had been stolen long ago. Despite this, it was kept quite toasty by the layers of furs wrapped around its body, and the little figured clutched against its chest shared in that warmth. Her breathing was even and her body no longer frigid. Rather than passed out with exhaustion, she now was fast asleep in the Shifter’s arms, mumbling slightly as she squirmed. Even though every step brought a fresh wave of pain over the Shifter’s tired form, it knew that this little girl was worth it. The Shifter was first and foremost a protector, and this girl was no different.

In front of the Shifter, the wooden walls of the buildings of Winterfell rose into the sky. The streets were dark and quiet. Not a single soul seemed to be awake, and for once, the Shifter was thankful. Moving through a sleeping village would be much easier than navigating one that was awake and vigilant. Perhaps it could simply drop the little girl off on the doorstep of the great hall and leave before anyone saw it.

The Shifter took a deep breath and began to move through the darkened streets, taking care to step lightly on the firmly packed snow. It was almost too quiet, almost too sleepy. A child of the Lord of Winterfell was missing, and the people slept like logs? The Shifter was starting to feel anxious, unsettled in spite of itself. It was nearing morning, and it needed to hurry, but every step placed it deeper in the heart of the place it had avoided for nearly a century. Closer and closer it moved to the center of the village, seeing the rafters of the great hall peering between the rooftops. Nearly there, it reassured itself. Just a little further and she’ll be safe. It was dimly aware of the pain throbbing in its body and the little scarlet drops that followed its path, but it had come too far to turn back now. The girl was worth every step.

Finally, it came to a halt outside the gate that led to the house of Lord Stark. Timidly, though such a word seemed unfitting for such a massive being, the Shifter stepped into the yard, glancing around to scan for danger. To its surprise, there were no guards at the outposts, no soldiers patrolling the walls. Everything was deathly quiet. Everything was deathly still.

Crunch… crunch… crunch…. The Shifter cursed its heavy feet. The door was still a good hundred meters away, and the Shifter felt its heartbeat speeding up. Body aching, it took another step, and another, inching across the snowy yard to the doorstep where it could leave the girl. Just a little more, it thought, more a prayer than anything. Just a little—

The doors burst open with a bang. Standing in the doorway, eyes blazing in the cold, stood Lord Eddard Stark, his sword drawn and gleaming. “Guards!” he roared, striding quickly towards the Shifter. “At the ready!”

All around the Shifter, men rushed to their posts. Arrows were fitted to bowstrings and swords were drawn with a singing of steel. In less than a minute, the Shifter was cornered in the middle of the yard, staring down a furious Ned, whose blade was fixed at its neck with an alarming ferocity.

“Who are you?” The words were less of a question and more of a command. His voice was hoarse and grating, worn away by hours of tears. Frozen in fear, the Shifter stayed silent, gripping the little girl tightly beneath the furs.

“Who are you?” he barked, more forcefully now. The sword trembled in his grip, pressing into the Shifter’s throat and drawing a drop of crimson from the pale flesh. “What are you doing here?”

Behind him, Lady Catelyn rushed down the steps, hair flying as she rushed towards him. “Ned,” she cried. “What is going on?”

“Stop,” he commanded, turning his head ever so slightly to face her. “Stay where you are.”

She obeyed him instantly, hearing the seriousness in his voice and taking in the scene before her. Confusion and fear made her head spin, and she found herself shaking.

Ned turned back to the Shifter, his voice trembling with rage. “I will ask you once more. Who are you?”

The Shifter didn’t reply directly, only met his gaze with soft yellow eyes. Wincing in pain, it slowly knelt, feeling the point of Ned’s blade digging deeper into its neck. Ned was frozen, watching as this fur-clad figure got to its knees in the snow before him. The bowstrings creaked as the archers aimed, but Ned held his hand aloft and the guard lowered their bows. Slowly, ever so slowly, the Shifter bent to the ground with a hiss of pain, opening its arms and letting something slide to the snow. Swaddled tightly in furs and scraps of cloth, the bundle wriggled a bit and made a soft noise. The Shifter didn’t move, keeping its eyes on Ned as he watched the form in curious dread.

“Daddy?” The tiniest whimper rose from the shape.

For just a moment, no one moved.

“Arya?” Ned’s voice wobbled.

A hand emerged from the furs and Arya’s brown hair peeked through the pelts. Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes and muttered, “Oh there you are, Daddy. I was having the strangest dream.”

Ned let out a cry and dove to the snow, grabbing his daughter in his arms and drawing her to his chest, kissing her hair and her face and weeping in relief. “Arya, oh my Arya,” he sobbed between kisses. “You’re safe now, darling. Daddy’s got you.”

Catelyn was at his side in an instant, dropping to the snow next to him and wrapping her arms around the both of them. Tears ran silver down her cheeks, and she gathered Arya to her once Ned let go, kissing the top of her head and stroking her tangled hair. “Arya,” she murmured over and over between her sobs. “Arya, you’re safe!”

Behind them, the children burst from between the doors, running pell-mell down the stairs to where their parents cradled Arya between them.

“Arya!” Bran whooped, crashing into his father as he raced through the snow. “Sansa, it’s Arya!”

Sansa was there in another second, laughing as she grabbed Arya in a hug. “Oh Arya, don’t run off like that again!” she chided, pinching her cheek lightly.

Robb trailed behind a bit, standing sheepishly next to Ned as though waiting for permission to touch the sister he’d accidentally endangered. Catelyn noticed him shifting from foot to foot and stood, taking his hand, and leading him to Arya who sat between Bran and Sansa. Unable to look at Arya, Robb simply stared at the ground, muttering something about being happy to see her and thankful she was okay.

Arya stood up on shaky legs and moved until she stood in front of him. “Robb,” she said in a very no-nonsense voice, making him look up in surprise. “It’s alright. I forgive you for hitting me in the face with a snowball. Don’t be angry with yourself, it wasn’t your fault.” And with those words, she patted him softly on the hand and turned back to her father.

“Robb, what do you have to say to her?” Catelyn questioned lightly.

There was a moment of silence before Robb burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Arya,” he cried. “Thank you so much for coming back alive!”

Ned roared in laughter and gathered the two of them in his arms, tousling their hair and grinning from ear to ear. “Ah, if only grown adults could forgive as easily as the two of you, I’d have a lot less work to do.” He let go of them and kissed Arya on the forehead again. “We’d better get you inside, little one.”

“Ned.” Catelyn’s voice was low and sharp.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to face her, instantly recognizing why she’d gotten his attention.

The Shifter hadn’t moved from where it lay slumped in the snow. Its breathing was rapid and shallow, its closed eyelids trembling slightly. Underneath its form, a pool of red was blooming slowly across the stark white, and the acrid tang stung the cold air.

Arya was the first to move, breaking away from her father’s arms and rushing to the Shifter’s side. “Arya,” Ned barked, but she ignored him, dropping to her knees next to the huge form. Her hand reached out, small and white against the blackness of the furs ‘round its body and began to pet the matted black locks on its head. The Shifter started, opening its yellow eyes to see the grey eyes of the little girl looking intently at its wounded body.

“You’re the wolf,” she stated. There was no question, no uncertainty, just a gentle accusation.

The Shifter nodded slowly, wincing in pain.

“You saved my life.”

Again, not a question, so again, the Shifter nodded.

“Now you’re the one who’s hurt.” Arya ran a hand over the Shifter’s forehead, and it chuckled lightly, a sound like thunder boiling in a black storm cloud. “We must help you.”

That caused the Shifter to stop. Help? No one had ever helped the Shifter before, only run in fear from its presence. Breathing deeply, it gathered a voice that had gone unused for almost fifty years and spoke in a rasping growl that made the hairs on Ned’s neck stand straight up.

“There is no need, little one.” It’s voice was deep and rumbling like an earthquake, yet gentle when it spoke to Arya. There was no malice, no anger, only a sort of tender adoration.

Arya’s voice replied, high-pitched and sharp against the mellow nature of the Shifter’s voice. “There is too need,” she retorted. “You’re bleeding out in the middle of the courtyard.”

The Shifter laughed again and made as if to sit up, before letting out a short gasp and falling back. Arya put her little hand on the Shifter’s shoulder and held it down as best she could. “See?” The tone was very reproachful, and she stroked the Shifter’s hair as she continued. “You’re in no position to be going anywhere. That means we have to heal you, right Daddy?”

Ned Stark stood behind her, completely torn. On the one hand, Arya seemed to believe that this massive creature of a man had saved her life and it had, after all, brought Arya to Ned safe and sound. On the other hand, this man was larger than any man Ned had ever seen, standing two meters tall with the muscle structure of a bear. Should it decide to turn on them for any reason at all, Ned was uncertain of how much good he could do. In addition, the beast hadn’t introduced itself and they knew nothing about it save for the fact that it’d stumbled wounded into Winterfell with Arya in its arms. It was a tricky situation and Ned wasn’t entirely certain what to do.

“Well, Arya….” He trailed off, much to his disappointment. He couldn’t find the words to say what he wanted to say, and it seemed wrong to say I have no idea who this is so I’m not comfortable with it, or him, staying in my house, but it was what he would say if it weren’t for politeness’ sake. Instead Ned was staring down this man, this thing, that seemed more animal than human, knowing it, or he, had saved his daughter and was bleeding out in the snow, but Ned felt so uncertain of whether or not it was safe.

Catelyn saw her husband’s internal battle and shook her head, stepping past him to kneel next to Arya. “How badly are you hurt?” she asked the Shifter, extending her hand to sit next to Arya’s upon its mane of snake-like hair. “May I see?”

The Shifter hesitated, then nodded slowly, still anxious as whether or not to trust them. Catelyn’s hands moved slowly to the furs covering its massive body and peeled them back, making a wet sound when they separated. The Shifter growled in its throat, head falling back against the snow, chest heaving violently. Its eyes sparkled wildly with pain, fingernails digging into the calloused flesh on its palms and leaving little crescent moons of blood. Layer by layer, Catelyn’s skilled hands removed its wrappings until at last, the Shifter lay exposed before them, panting, eyes glazed and lips parted, feeling pained, afraid, and vulnerable. Moving to the bottom of the garment, Catelyn gently pulled it up to see the damage that had been done—puncture marks dotted the pale skin, oozing viscous red blood onto the snow. There was a moment of silence as Catelyn took in the scene before her. The blood, the wound, and perhaps most confusing of all, the fact that the body on the ground was undeniably…female.

“The wolves got her, Mummy,” Arya explained. “There were five of them and they were huge, but she jumped in front of them and killed all but two.”

“She?” Ned’s voice was full of shock.

“Yes,” Catelyn replied evenly. “She.”

Ned looked back and forth between his wife, his little girl, and the massive thing, or rather woman strewn on the snow before them, the blood spreading quickly. For a second, he said nothing, then “Can you stand?”

It, she, seemed uncertain. Her eyes were still full of fear, like an animal caught in a trap, but she shrugged her good shoulder and made a move to get up. A sharp hiss left her mouth, but she gritted her teeth and continued to rise as best she could with a body so broken.

“Ned, help her,” Catelyn said, and Ned moved swiftly to the Shifter’s side, wrapping her good arm over his shoulder. “Now, let’s get her inside.”

Slowly they made their way across the yard, up the steps, and through the doors. Arya stayed fixed at her mother’s side and the other children trailed a few steps behind, whispering to each other fervently. Despite the pain and exhaustion evident on the Shifter’s face, they finally made it to one of the guest rooms in the great hall and Ned guided her slowly to the bed.

She hesitated. “I’ll ruin it.”

“I care not,” Ned replied. “Please, lie down. I’ll have my healers tend to your wounds.”

Unwilling to disobey the Lord of Winterfell, she nodded and lied down, making a little pained noise in the back of her throat as she came to rest among the blankets. No sooner had her head hit the pillows than a huge wave of unconsciousness washed over her and bore her into a deep, dreamless sleep. Ned stepped back, watching as her form went limp almost instantly.

“Will she be okay, Daddy?” Arya asked from behind him.

“Yes, little one, I believe she’ll be just fine.” He pulled Arya to his side and ran a hand through her hair. “In fact, I think you could use some similar treatment. Why don’t we get you to bed?”

Too tired to argue the fact that she was not tired in the slightest, a common argument despite the level of exhaustion, Arya simply nodded and leaned her head against Ned’s hip. He chuckled and stooped to pick her up, sighing deeply as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in the crook of his shoulder.

“Daddy?” her little voice whispered next to his ear.

“Yes, little one?”

“I love you.”

Tears filled his eyes, and he took a deep breath. “I love you too, Arya.”

With that, he turned and walked from the room, leaving the Shifter to the skilled hands of his healers. He knew she would be safe given enough time, and unbeknownst to his family, he planned on keeping her in their home until she healed completely. He had no idea who she was or where she came from, but she had saved his Arya and that was enough for him. He had his Arya back, and that was enough. Stroking her hair, he made his way slowly to her bedroom where he gently deposited her on the cushions and furs. She give a little sigh of contentment and curled up almost instantly, snuggling deeper into her bed with a smile. “Good night, little one,” he murmured as he backed from the room. “Thank the gods you’re safe.”

And the Lord of Winterfell shut the door, pressed his back to the wall, and began to weep once more.

[dancingthesambaa]

CBT Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Silence is Golden... and Necessary

It’s been a few hours since Branch had left Pop Village and entered the Deep Forest, the sun had already begun to set, so he decided to settle down for the night. It was when he was staring at the campfire, waiting for his food to cook, when he realizes that he has absolutely no idea what he should even do when he sees the Techno trolls, let alone how to talk to them.

“Welp i’m screwed,” Branch deadpanned as he flopped down on his back. “I barely know how to talk to the trolls that are in the village. How am I, the most cynical and least friendly troll, supposed to talk to a brand new species of trolls that I just literally heard about barely a week ago!” He quieted down when he realized where he was and took a deep breath.

“Okay. Alright. Okay. Alright... Let's make a list of how to approach them then make our way up.” He sat up and took a loose leaf from one of the various plants. “Maybe just by starting off with a hello, that usually works...most of the time. Should I try maybe just jumping into it like poppy- Nope never mind. Not gonna happen.” He scraped off that idea before it could fully form. “I’ll be more likely to scare them off than be seemingly friendly.” He humorlessly chuckled.

Gear, wanting no part of that negativity lingering, bit his ear once again.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He rolled his eyes at his partner. “If all comes to fail then a simple handshake would work.” Branch looked at his hands...his very gray hands and then he realized that this was just gonna be another group that will look down upon him for his skin.

“Right, I almost forgot about it.” He continued to look despondently at his hand. “This is just gonna be another repeat isn’t it.”

Gear buzzed around his head before landing on his shoulder and cuddled up under his chin for comfort.

“Thanks. We'll worry about that when we get to it.” Branch wordlessly put away his list and collected his now cooked berries and began eating before heading back to the back of the Beetle, where it acted as a sleeping quarter, and rested up for the night with Gear sleeping soundlessly beside his head.

——————

The next few days seem to have flown by as he continued on his way. Branch expected the untrodden area to be different, but he didn’t quite realize it until he saw that the usually obnoxiously brightly colored trees have turned into a tranquil umber. This was very strange to see as the trees that surround the Pop Village stays the same color all year round, so this is his first time seeing a tree that isn’t trying to murder his eyes with color.

“I bet some of the trolls in the village would just love this.” Branch said to Gear, who was casually drinking the water from the river that they just crossed. “They wouldn’t have to use brown dye anymore.” Then he thought about it. “Or maybe not, they would actually hate this forest as barely anything here is colorful for their taste.”

He then walked over and plucked a piece of bark from the tree. “Honestly, it kinda is strange to not see brighter colors, but it goes to show just how different everything is the farther we’re away from the village.” He paused at what he just said before throwing away the bark and marching back to the Beetle Trail. “Come on Gear, it’s best we get going.”

She locked her beady eyes onto Branch and silently made her way back into his hair.

Branch leans back in his seat as he goes over the map. “So we are here by the river, so we need to go past those mountains and keep straight until we hit that large mass of water. I wonder how they managed to keep such a large kingdom above the water? It should be near impossible, but I guess we’ll just have to see for ourselves.” Branch closed up the map before heading out once more.

It was in the middle of his eleventh day of travel when he finally caught sight of the mountains, and they were a sight to behold as he stopped the Beetle to get a good look at the massive tower of nature.

There wasn’t just one, as Branch first thought, but multiple mountains that littered the region. They had a heavy russet tone that just continued to climb higher and higher until finally changing tune and switching into lighter texture, it almost looked like snow. He was amazed by it and that was the only one in which he can somewhat see the top. The rest towers above the first one, they almost seem to reach the heavens, as the sight continues to climb upwards and past the milky white clouds.

“Amazing,” Branch breathed out. “This is simply breathtaking.” He got out the Beetle and proceeded to take out his notebook and began to write down in vivid detail the sight he was witnessing. He had long decided to bring a notebook to chart all the new things he might learn in case he can ever use it in the future.

“It’s a good thing I brought another notebook, it’s almost the second week and it has almost reached the halfway mark.”

After the hour had passed it was decided that it was time to pack up and head back on the path.

——————

“No! For the last time, you are not gonna have another honey rose, you know eating too many of those is bad for you.” Branch exasperatedly said while he drove through the quiet plains.

“Buzzz bzzz!” She fluttered indignantly.

“I don’t care if you only just had one, you know you can’t have more than you're supposed to!”

“Bzzzzzz!” She spewed angrily as she flew out of his hair and above the car, keeping pace as he continued to drive past a hollowed-out tree.

“Don’t you take that tone with me! The last time I let you eat more you couldn’t fly for days! Remember how I had to carry you everywhere in the bunker?!” Branch was more than done with this conversation, he was so engrossed though that he didn’t even notice the many ditches along his path.

“Zzz...buzz.”

“It was not worth it! You cannot fly there and tell me-,” he was cut off as something leaped out, next thing he knows he stopped in the middle of the road alone. He was alone.

Gear was not with him.

He leaped out the Beetle and immediately followed the sound of his distressed friend humming. In fact, Branch notices, as he continues to run forward to her, it was the only sound other than the leaves that break under his feet and the stem that creaks as he uses his hair to leap himself forward.

When he finally catches up he sees, or what he assumes, a large creature that was almost twice as big as a pod, its main body consisted of a cerulean shell that engulfed its body so much that all that was seen was its legs and head. There were also vines surrounding the creature, it even had some draping across its shell. But what caught Branch eyes was its own eyes, or rather his lack of eyes as all he saw of the face was a mouth and tangled up in the vines a few feet away was Gear.

He inhaled sharply at the sight of his friend being held down.

Then a few vines hoisted itself up, as if they were being held up by strings, and suddenly shot in his direction. Branch luckily just managed to push himself to the side as the vines viciously attacked the now empty spot Branch was previously in. When it realized that nothing was there anymore they slowly started to coil back to their previous spot and that’s when Branch noticed something as he watched the vines. The vines on the creature's back were also doing the same thing, in fact, it seemed to be receding down into its shell.

‘The vines are not on the shell, it’s a part of it!’ Branch thought as he continued to watch and see if he could use this to his advantage. ‘But why would this creature require the vines?’ Then something clicked within his brain. ‘No senses! The vines must act like its eyes and ears since it has none upon its face, this must be how it catches its food.’

Branch looks back to Gear, who was now looking at him. He gently smiles at her before putting a finger to his lips. Gear nodded her head and settled down, she trusted her partner to help her out of this mess.

He leans down and slowly grabs a few of the clumps of dirt that erupted from the tossed up ground of the vines’ previous attack. He mushes a few of them together until he has five solid clumps of dirt. Then he carefully picks up the pieces with his hair and flung it as far as he can in the opposite directions.

The vines began to track the sound and follow it, they were a lot more vines that followed the dirt than there was before, which was what he had planned. He then uses his hair once more to grab Gear, who now only had one vine tying her up rather than the multiple ones and grabbed her from its surprised, or what he guessed was surprised, hold and proceeded to run as fast as he could as he swiftly flew through his previous path.

“RAWRRRR!” The beast roared from where he was and could almost hear the vines now hissing. Branch didn’t know that vines could even hiss.

He decided to run faster.

He could hear some of the vines closing in on him. Their hisses seemed to be drawing nearer no matter how fast he swung or ran they always seemed to be coming closer. He needed a plan, but what could he even do. Then a thought came to mind a very risky, but possible, thought.

He looked down at Gear, who had now moved into his arms as he needed to have full use of his hair, and gave her a squeeze as he swung down in front of a plant and leaned his body against it. He took a deep breath and waited.

He could hear the hisses of the vines as it continued to move closer and closer until finally, he saw it. He finally saw the vines, it’s voices angrily hisses as it continued its charge forward to catch their prey. Branch stiffens as one of the vines' body is laid just inches away from his foot, another is draped above the plant he was leaning against and one was on his other side coiled around another plant. There was no exit if he made a sound, no matter which way he went or how fast he ran, the vines would catch him faster, he holds Gear tightly almost as to shield her from their none existent eyes.

It seemed like hours had passed when the vines slowly decided to move back to its main body as they couldn’t find their prey. The vines surrounding the duo had also finally retreated back until finally, they were alone. Both of them stayed silent until Branch worked up the nerve to walk, not run especially not now, back to the Beetle. Gear was still held tightly to his chest as his eyes began to dart back and forth as if to see if the vines or any other creature would try to make itself known.

When they reached the Beetle Branch carefully got into the car, Gear also carefully flew inside his hair, and drove slowly through the uprooted path, to which he can now assume were other unlucky victims that made its presence unfortunately known. He kept driving and driving until he finally stopped when the only available light was the moon in the sky, neither one of them made a sound throughout the entire trip.

Branch didn’t make a sound as he leaned his seat and just stared at the stars. Gear then flew her way down to his chest and also began looking at them; neither one made a sound as they slowly fell asleep.

————-

Almost three weeks have passed since they left Pop Village and it’s been five days since they were attacked, he definitely wrote down in his notebook where he came in and left and made an approximate guess on the recommended distance away from the creature vines. The Shell Constrictor, yes he has terrible names but Gear seems to agree on its accuracy no matter how bad the name, was temporarily wiped away from his thoughts when they see something blue. They had finally reached the lake where the Techno trolls lived, except for one small detail.

“This is not a lake.” Branch unemotionally said as he continued to look at the water that for miles and miles ahead, he couldn’t see the land on the other side.

He looks to the left, nope still all water.

He looks to the right, well would you look at that more water.

Branch stopped his Beetle on the shore of the not-lake and just stared, not in wonder like the mountains, but horror.

‘I’m going to have to cross this.’ He thinks as he walks out his car and looks out upon the waters. Gear nervously hovers next to him as Branch walks to where the water reached the sand. He watches listlessly as the water gently caresses his feet as it continues to move in and out, to and fro, back from its starting point and forth to towards his feet.

‘I’m going to have to cross this.’ His mind repeated once more than he kneels onto the sand and screams.

“What was I thinking! What was I thinking! How stupid could I EVEN BE!” Branch screamed out the frustrations that have been plaguing him since he left his bunker. “To think that I could even believe that I had a shot at this! Boy was I fucking stupid! I’m not brave! I’m not! I’m not!” He bashed his head upon the sand, Gear flying around his head and bumping into him as if to wake him up, but he just pushed her away.

“I’m just a paranoid kid who was too scared to not trust anyone and decided to fuck off on my own and look where that got me! The King thinking I was so independent that he send me on a suicide mission in the hopes of having aids! Well, guess what?! HE PICKED THE WRONG DAMN TROLL! I can’t even talk to a troll without screaming at them or them looking disgusted at my skin, what made him think it was a good idea for me to start this whole mess!” Branch paused and looked at his hands. “What made him think that I was even good enough?” He said nothing as he moved his hands to his hair and began to grip it tightly.

Gear was fluttering around trying to find anything that could help. Until she stopped and zoomed into the pack, almost ripping the ties Branch made for it, and dug deeper inside, passing the crispy succulent honey roses, until she finally found the treasure she was looking for. She flowed out of the sack holding it and quickly and carefully draped it around his shoulder and a part of his head.

Branch freezes as he felt a familiar cloth embrace him, it’s a cloak. It’s a simple light blue cloak that has violet dots following a dark blue firefly at the bottom.

It was the same cloak that Grandma had shown long ago, she told him that his father had crafted and gifted this treasure to someone special.

It was the same cloak that he clenched tightly to when they had finally escaped from the bergens.

The same one which he wore when he was hyperventilating deep into the bunker after a rough day.

This was his mother's cloak.

He desperately clung onto the cloth and began to listen and count his breathing to calm down. It wasn’t until breath number hundred and fifty-two that he noticed that he was still in the water. He quickly walked out of it loose pull and went back to the Beetle, to which Gear quietly followed, and leaned to the side of the car and slid down until he had touched the sandy bottom. Gear silently made her way to his pack before dragging over a berry to him as she landed on his knee.

Branch looked at her then smiled as he patted her head. “Where would I be without you?” He said as he munched down on the berry.

“Bzzz.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know either.” Branch looked at the cloak once more then back to the firefly. “How did you even know I would need this?”

“Uzz, Buz,” she looked at him then went back to his pack and grabbed herself her honey rose.

“If I can have a breakdown in my home then I could have a breakdown anywhere else, huh make sense.”

After their meal they continued to watch the waves, then he had an idea as he dusted the sand from his cloak.

“If I wore something to cover my skin then maybe I would have somewhat of a chance to talk to them.” Branch then leaped up and looked through the shell of the Beetle until he found a dark green cloak with a hood attached to it. He placed it on and it covers the whole skin with just his face showing, which he can pass it off as the shadows from the hood.

“Yeah, this can work,” He nodded to himself as he gently placed his mother's cloak back into his pack for safekeeping. “Thanks, Gear.”

She buzzed as she placed herself in his hair to take a nap.

“You do that, we’re gonna have a long ride before we can get there.” Branch hopped back into the Beetle, not before triple checking locks and food, grabbing a pair of black goggles and pulled a few levers as he drove straight into the not-lake. The wheels had moved inside the car and a propeller had popped out from the back.

He took a deep breath, clutched his cloak once more and steeled his eyes in determination as he began his drive across the waters. Thus began their trip across the not-lake as their now boat soared through the cerulean waters.

—————

“Nothing. There is a whole lot of water, fishes, weird rocks and nothing, absolutely nothing.” Branch deadpanned as he continued to sail through the waters. He thought he would at least catch sight of anything by now, but unfortunately luck wasn’t on his side. It’s been a couple of hours since they last left shore and Branch was so close to ripping his hair out in frustration and bottling that deep-seated panic that he is lost in the middle of the eternal unknown waters.

Even Gear had woken up at this point and tried flying around the area also in hopes of finding anything that resembled or left clues of the elusive Techno trolls. But still nothing.

Branch let out a frustrated sigh as he stopped his boat near one of the bright green rock structures. He had come across more of those on the fifth hour upon the seemingly endless waters. Instead, he decided to take a closer look at it, he wasted enough time searching and decided he needed a break before his body decides, or worse Gear, needs one for him. He placed his hand upon the rock when he felt it.

Thump Thump Thump Thump

He stared for a bit before looking at Gear, who was floating along with water, and called out to her.

“Gear, come here for a bit, cause I want to double-check that i’m not as crazy as I usually am.” She then lifted her body over to where Branch was and he just pointed to the rocks. When she placed her feet on there she instantly took it off in shock, but then placed it back down, cautiously. She looked to Branch and nodded.

“Okay great, just checking,” Then Branch looks down at the water, brings out the goggles he had placed to the side, places them back on his face, and takes a deep breath and submerged his head inside the water.

He then realizes that the weird rock structure was only the tip of the iceberg as the rest of its structure just went further down under, passing the brightly colored fishes swimming underneath, into the water depths. And he can’t see the bottom.

Great

He lifts his head back up and lightly knocks it on the rock structure. “You have got to be kidding me.”

On one hand, the Techno trolls have to be a highly advanced species to have an underwater nation and still be thriving. They must have all sorts of machinery that are helping them breathe underwater and be thriving underneath. It actually made Branch a little excited, not even the mechanics at the village are up to par with what these trolls can do.

But on the other hand, this means he has to dive down, to who knows how many feet down, into the still very unknown waters and hope that he would find civilization first before any of the predators of the deep have the taste for this troll and firefly.

Branch looked towards Gear and she dropped her wings when she realized what they were about to do. She fluttered back to him sadly and glumly settled into his hair.

He scratched her ear in apology. “Yeah, I know but just bear with it for a few hours. Hopefully, we can find them soon and you won’t have to be stuck in here.”

So with that Branch once again triple checked the boat, making sure everything was safe and secured, then sat back down pushed a few buttons then slowly turned the knob, and as he turned the knob a clear dome had made his way from the back of the shell until it finally settled at the front.

Branch doesn’t often use this part of the Beetle very often, mostly when he goes exploring underwater in the lake of the Deep Forest, and those times were severely limited. But he made sure this was up to snuff before he left, after all, it never hurts to be prepared for anything and Branch will damn try to be prepared for anything.

So when he dived in, but not before twisting the knob a few times to make sure it was locked in firmly, making sure the dome wasn’t cracked and checking up on the downtrodden Gear, he followed the now increasing large rock structure down under and continued to make his way down.

He passed by a few fishes, one of them have what looks like a stereo for a mouth, tried his best not to be in front of underwater caves, who knows might come out of it, went through the most strangest of underwater plant life, there were plants growing out of the rocks, until finally after the third hour he spotted a bright neon green light in the distance down below.

As he grew nearer he could now hear the ‘Thump’ sound and then he saw it. He saw more of the weird brightly colored rocks that changed colored with each different beat. He could see the green light now that shifted into blue as it emitted from some of the strange rocks. But most of all he saw in the center a giant green heart that was made up of smaller green hearts and being held up by two pillars of rocks with plant life growing out of them. The entire structure was just floating high above the sandy floor.

‘Stunning,’ Branch thought to himself and he went closer to get a better look, but then he noticed something was surrounding the structure. It was a bubble. And when he took a look past this bubble, there were many other bubbles as well, some looked to be tubes connecting to other bubbles and others leading straight up.

He stopped the sub right outside the bubble of the heart structure and looked around to see if he could find an opening, then he saw down below an eight arm neon yellow creature swimming it’s way to the bubble. Branch continued to watch as he saw the creature harmlessly make its way through the bubble and then had fallen and crawled its way to the structure.

Branch lowered his sub to the ground, slowly and carefully, pushed his sub forward and felt no resistance as he made his way through. Then it plopped to the bottom of the sand. This gave a momentary scare to the duo but as they sat down for a moment they eased up when they realized that nothing had snatched them up. He looked back and sure enough, they were inside the dome, but he couldn’t get his submarine to move.

‘Interesting, it seems like the bubble keeps the air in while keeping the water out,” Branch thought as he tried to distract himself from being out in the open and defenseless.

He took a deep breath then turned the opening knob only a sliver and cracked open the dome, he paused for a bit to make sure no water had entered, then continued to slowly open up the dome. When it was halfway open Gear had lifted out of his hair and right into the sweet freedom.

“Gear wait!” Branch leaped from the machine, quickly triple-checking to make sure the Beetle was secured, and followed after Gear.

His feet crunched against the cobalt blue sand and he constantly had to swerve around the weird rock with the stringy neon plants that rested on top. He then stopped when he saw Gear making his way back to him, more relaxed than she has been in the last three hours cramped up in the underwater pod.

“Next time give a troll a warning alright,” he lightly scolded her before looking up at the heart structure and now that he is closer to it, he can see that there are different sized stereos within the rocks. He marvels at the architect before looking right in the middle below the heart, there was a stand.

He uses his hair to reach one of the rocks that supported the heart and made his way up. He continued to climb up until he finally was under the glowing heart. Branch looked out and saw that he may have come in from the side as a large neon-colored bridge formed an opening.

“This must be where parties are held,” he theorized, since the entire set up just looked very similar to the ones at the village, except this one is underwater.

“Oh yeah, our parties are pretty wild!” A voice happily stated.

“AH!” Branch swung off the rock structure and hid behind the pillar to shield himself from the unknown entity.

“Oh, seashells! I am so, so sorry about that!” She, Branch assumes, cried out in panic. “I did not mean to startle you like that. It’s just that I was looking for Barnaby, my wee baby octopus, since the silly goober just loves to explore. Then I saw you here and I was very curious cause you looked very different, I mean you don’t have a tail! Wait, was that offensive? It probably was, I am so sorry once more! And well here we are and now I’m just raving like a mad stingray who is fighting with a raging jellyfish!” Silence filled the air as she took a few breaths before continuing. “And now I just realize that I haven’t even introduced myself. Hi, my name is Bliss Marina it’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?”

Branch had no idea what to do. He knows he should go out there and introduce himself, but he can’t. He knows that he has to talk to the troll, but he just can’t. He is utterly petrified and his legs can’t move.

He can’t move.

“Wha-hey! Whoa, um can you please stop that?” Then she started to talk to something else. “Whoa there, wait what are you? You look so cute! Almost like a glowing guppy!”

‘Glowing-! Gear!’ Branch almost forgot about her, he then moved to face his friend and the Techno troll. Or what he assumed was the Techno troll. She was a bright pink with the most vibrant magenta color hair he has ever seen, and that says a lot coming from where he grew up in. He then saw that she had no feet, instead, it was replaced with an equally bright pink tail that is decorated with blue and yellow dots along the bottom. It matched her arms as it was raised in a calming motion against a furious Gear, who was buzzing furiously against her face.

“Gear, i’m okay! You can stop that.” Gear then noticed that her friend was okay, she was about to throw down against the pink menace when she saw her partner hiding from her. She then fluttered around him to make sure he was okay.

“Yeah, i’m fine. No need to worry,” He scooped her up then stiffens as Marina pink eyes meet with his gray eyes. He tightens his cloak around his body.

“Oh. My. Oceans. You are different!” She squeals and her pink and blue gills fluttered at the same time. Now that he got a better look at her he saw that her body didn’t touch the ground, in fact, she was seemingly floating in the air as she zipped around him almost teleporting from one place to another. Branch stiffened and took a step back, his back now touching the pillar and his hair slithering out of the hood just in case he needed a quick escape.

Unfortunately for him, Bliss took notice and stilled her movements. “Wait, wait don’t go! Sorry, sorry! I just sometimes get so excited at times and well you are something new Mr. Troll!”

“...Branch,” He said quietly after finding his voice.

“Can you repeat that please? I didn’t quite catch that,” She asked politely.

“My name is Branch, it’s nice to meet you too,” Branch took a slow breath and took a step towards her.

“Branch, nice name. And such a nice voice as well!” She happily smiled at the unknown troll, she felt really bad for scaring him. She didn’t mean to frighten him but she was just so curious, though her brother always did say that staring at people without them knowing did frighten them when they finally noticed her. Though she has a blast when she does it to her brother, he just never learns. “Sooo, who are you?”

“I’m-,” Gear settled onto his shoulder in support, he pushed forward “i’m a Pop troll, from above the water.”

“Above the water! Amazing! Many trolls have been above the waters and they never went farther than the shores because of the dangerous predators that rest farther within. Are you telling me that there are more trolls outside of the ocean!?” She completely ignored Branch's mention of being an entirely different species, she was more invested in trolls surviving and living on land. There were so many dangerous creatures above the waters after all.

“Yeah...ocean?” Branch raised his eyebrow at the strange word.

“You know the water that surrounds us? This is an ocean, are you telling me that this is your first time seeing an ocean! Is there no ocean where you're from?” She questioned, she simply can’t imagine a life where there is no ocean. Bliss couldn’t even think of anywhere without water.

“Not really, we have these small bodies of water called lakes.” Branch takes a look around the bubble. “It’s almost the size of this bubble.”

“Wow,” Her body slumped forward in amazement, he then saw that right smack in the middle of her body was a glowing pink heart. “Only the size of an air bubble, that is unbelievable.” She then turns to see Gear, who was still glaring at her. “Who is that then?”

Branch lightly scratched Gear in an attempt to calm his friend down. “This is Gear, she is a firefly.”

“Coool, what’s a firefly?”

“A firefly is an insect that can light up in the dark and be used to send letters to other trolls.” He calmly explained to her, he slowly calmed down with each minute that passes. At first, he assumed he was talking to an underwater version of Poppy, he thought she would invade his space without permission, but even when she was flying around him she had never gone too close to him. He appreciated it.

“Ooh, sounds like a dragonfly and a glofish meshed together. Dragonflies help transport our letters and glofish lights up and can make for vibing strobes lights!” The mermaid-like troll cheerily smiles, she was glad that he wasn’t as scared of her now. “She’s very protective of you, she was as feisty as a tangler fish, she was ready to fight me when she thought I was trying to harm you.”

He smiled at his friend, who puffed up in pride. “Yeah, she is.”

“She is almost as cool as- Barnaby!” She shot up and started to frantically look around. “Barnaby, I was looking for Barnaby! Have you seen him?!” She faces Branch once more. “He is neon yellow with eight cute little arms and the most soulful orange eyes! I was looking for him all day!”

Branch thought back and remembered a creature of that same resemblance entering the bubble. “Yeah, I think I saw him entering the bubble before I did.”

Her eyes lighten in glee. “You have! Can you show me where?!” She then began to follow Branch to where he last saw her bundle of gooey laffy taffy.

They eventually saw him at the floor below the rock structure they were on, Branch using his hair once more to swing down to get off of the structure safely.

“Oh Barnaby, don’t you ever scare me like that again! I couldn’t find you anywhere near the caverns, next time tell me if you go exploring so that I can join.” She started to squeeze the tiny creature close to her. Then she swirls around to face Branch. “This is Barnaby, my wonderful octopus, Barnaby this is Branch and his amazing partner Gear.”

Barnaby looked at the two strange creatures in front of him and slowly raised an arm in ‘hello’. Gear flew up and in front of the strange creature and buzzed back in reply.

“Aww, look at that, they're already becoming friends.” She smiled down to watch the two interact with one another.

Branch continued to watch as well, he was glad that she was making friends. She never quite got along with the other trolls at the village, apparently she was a bit too headstrong for them, or what he had heard when he listened to some of the trolls gossiping.

“Speaking of friends, you should definitely meet my brother!”

Branch's small smile vanishes as he stiffens once more, but forces his body to relax again as he knows that she’s not trying to trap him and only trying to be friendly. “I don’t know, i’m not the best at...socializing.” This conversation alone was barely one of his better ones, he hasn’t screamed at her...yet.

“Don’t worry he is great at socializing. I mean he has to do it all the time.” She floated a few feet above as she flew her hands above her head to emphasize herself.

“Well I don’t know- I mean-,” Branch stumbled on his words. Usually, he would just say no and move on, but he needs to make a good impression and right now it’s not working out so well for him.

‘And besides, it’s not like she did anything wrong.’ He thought as she continued to gush about her brother.

“I mean he even djs the most flippin parties of all times!! And! And!” She freezes as she was cut off as a dark blue hand covers her mouth. Branch did the same as well.

“You have got to stop this Blissy,” the voice chuckles as Branch's eyes slowly follow up the blue hand and past the rainbow-colored arm. “I think everyone from this reef and back knows how vibin these parties are without your play by play.” His eyes then saw an equally blue body with a pink, blue and indigo tail and then his eyes met electric blue eyes. The same ones that were looking right back at him curiously.

“Well, this is new,” The blue troll tilted his head to get a better look at the cloaked troll, but Branch took a step back. “Whoa, my bad didn’t mean to startle you. it's just that, well-” Bliss cut him off.

“This is Branch, don’t worry he’s chill,” She scooped up Barnaby “He even helped me find Barnaby and I was searching for hours!”

“Is that so?” The brother then smiled at Branch, “Well if you're cool with my sis, then you're definitely alright by me. Welcome to Techno Reff, the name is Trollex Marina or King Trollex as some of my peeps like to call me. Now, who are you? Cause as far as I can tell, I don’t think you are a Tech troll.” The King chuckled warmly, he has a feeling this was the beginning of something interesting.

It was then that Branch realized that he was not only in front of the King of the Techno troll but also the princess, Bliss Marina, the same troll who he was a giant mess around.

Great

—————

That concludes it! Next chapter we will finally dive deep into the Techno trolls and all the world-building!

If anyone doesn’t mind I would love to hear how you feel towards certain music and just what songs do you think would mesh well with this story. If it clicks then I will put it in!

Peace!!

[arahul-abyssia]

What Lies Out of Sight

No one:

Absolutely no one:

Me: Hmm... I should create a bunch of weird headcanons to try to add continuity to a world that explicitly doesn’t care about such things.

Anyway, this story for @starprincesshlc and @jklantern ’s Nintember event is a bit more of a ‘Lower-Deck Episode’ type, focusing on the sorts of individuals that go unmentioned in the tales we see, those who are passed over without a second thought, but must surely exist if the world were an actual one, fully fleshed out, not just made for a game for playing. This story is also only a little shorter than the length of the last two combined, so, prepare for that, I guess...

~~ Meal, Depths, Ascend, Teamwork, Determination ~~

“You sure you’ll be alright?”

“I already told you, I’ll be fine!”

None of the other members of his squad ever seemed to want to take risks and branch out. They were perfectly happy to spend their time off lounging at the beaches or the café, or doing whatever other mind-numbing things came to their minds. Kolba preferred to use his free time to see what else the world had to offer, beyond his little hometown and the drudgery of work.

Kamron always seemed to fret about Kolba’s escapades. Even though he came back from each of them just fine, even though he was never late when he returned, even though he had frequently shown that there was nothing to worry about, Kamron refused to let him hear the end of it.

“Y’know, if you’re so worried for my safety, why not come along?”

“Because it’s dangerous, and I’m trying not to put myself in harm’s way when I don’t need to!”

“Well, maybe we’ll be safer together. Strength in numbers, he always says…”

“That hasn’t once worked out for us! No matter what formations we take, those two always chew through us faster than we can blink! And that’s if Karla, Kollen, Kiam, and Kyrra haven’t walked off a cliff, as usual!”

“And ‘those two’ won’t be there, so there’s no problem!”

“That’s not the point!”

Kolba sighed and shook his head. He didn’t know why he continued to argue with Kamron about his plans; neither one ever budged on their positions and no new arguments ever came up. He threw his pack onto his shell, adjusted his boots, and walked out of their quarters into the warm ashy air of Bowser’s Fortress.

He’d give his boss credit where it was due: no matter what the design, every single building in the fortress was great at keeping the smoke and smog out, palace, towers, and barracks alike. It wasn’t absolutely choking, but spending time out in it did eventually make it harder to breathe, and it was typically better to avoid it as much as possible, especially in times such as now, when the volcano below was more active than usual.

Kolba walked down the rocky paths and across the ashy fields, toward the nearest long-range warp pipe, which lay a little beyond one of the cracks in the rocky wall around the volcanic region. He would have much preferred for one to be near the barracks, but given that those who maintained the network, whoever they were, were on Peach’s side, Bowser’s forces weren’t allowed to have one within their walls. And he had heard tell that the reason so few short-range ones existed within the fortress was some disagreement between the pipe maintainers and His Stubbornness himself, though he had no clue what that could be.

As he crossed through the crack, it was as though he had passed a magical barrier, for beyond it the sky was suddenly clear and blue and not a trace of ash wafted in the air. He took a deep breath and then set off down the hill towards the massive red pipe at its base. He always thought it interesting how different long-range pipe travel was from short-range; the smaller pipes were always just big enough to fit comfortably, and your movement remained controlled, while the larger ones, well…

Kolba jumped up onto the rim of the pipe and stared down into the dark pit within. The first time he used it, it was quite daunting, but he had long since gotten used to it. With one final check that he had everything in his pack that he needed, he leaped from his perch into the darkness. After a few seconds, his descent slowed and came to a stop for a split-second, then his body began to rocket upwards, the pipe spitting him out into a small grassy clearing surrounded in part by trees, and the rest by more open fields. He looked around to get his bearings, noting that the pipe he emerged from was smaller than the one near the fortress, though certainly not as small as the pipes typically were. He hopped down and looked around some more. Judging by the grey mist in the area, he was already in a location that was only partially active.

That was one of the aspects of their land that he was never sure if he liked. The Mushroom Kingdom and its surrounding regions had an alarming tendency to shift around, the locations of forests and deserts and mountains and everything else moving elsewhere quite noticeably and often suddenly, taking entirely different names and appearances in the process, and many locations hiding themselves away or appearing out of seemingly nowhere. But if the land did not shift, his off-time pastime could not exist. He loved to explore the areas that had become hidden, their entrances having become barely detectable paths that were far off the usual routes.

One of which should be right… around… here!

In the foliage at the edge of the field was a winding string of rocks about as wide as his finger. He pushed through the plants and began following it closely. In almost no time at all, the grey mists had set in more and he emerged from the bushes into a rocky and craggy location. If he had seen it when it was active, he did not know, but he was sure that it was inactive now; the stones lodged in the sheer cliffs that clearly had been paths up and down them were now greatly displaced from one another, and all the pipes were bent oddly and emerged from the ground or pits at weird angles.

Kamron frequently expressed his concern that Kolba would be caught in an inactive zone when the world shifted and then be unable to find his way back, but he was not concerned at all. He knew that the shifts only ever happened on three occasions--between Bowser’s schemes, between other sorts of crises, and between sporting events--and he made sure to never go exploring when nearing or after the end of any of them. And given that His Surliness was busy planning his next scheme to kidnap the princess (which would no doubt ultimately fail), and the world had shifted only two days ago, he was confident he’d be safe for this excursion.

He began to climb up the cliff in front of him, to see what was beyond it. The hand- and footholds were entirely unusable, but his training in being a Fence-Climbing Koopa allowed him to scale the cliff anyway, albeit with some difficulty. In only a few minutes, he had reached the top and pulled himself up. The clifftop had other cliffs he could climb, but there was also a clear disjointed path of relative flatness, so he chose to follow that.

He would have liked to have seen the views from the crags, but the dense grey fog that marked an area as inactive made that an impossibility. On other adventures of his, there was usually something interesting about the locations he was exploring, or something curious to find, but this place seemed to be nothing but broken rock, sheer cliffs, and weird pipe formations.

Maybe I’ll take a few pictures of the weirdest ones… yeah, that’ll work… 

He stopped, pulled his camera out of his pack, and continued onward. While the pipe shapes so far were certainly odd, there were none that he thought particularly picture-worthy. After another several minutes of walking, he decided to flip about and walk backwards for a bit, to see if anything notable popped out where he couldn’t see before, after he made sure the ground before him was relatively straightforward and flat. Walking like this for a few moments, he noticed that his footsteps sometimes seemed to echo about the cliffs, and other times they were practically silenced in the fog.

And then, as if to confirm it, he felt his boot touch something else’s leg as his pack leaned into something similarly squishy. He whipped around to find the telltale mushroomy shape of a Toad doing just the same.

“Oh, hello—”

“Waaaaauuuugggghh! It’s a Koopa Troopa!” The Toad began to flail and scream, as they so often did whenever the Army attacked one of their towns.

“Uh… yes? How are y—”

“G-get away from me! Or I’ll… or I’ll… I’ll make you!”

He brought his arms up to what was probably supposed to be a fighting stance and bent his face into what was likely meant to be a brave and daring glare, but both were quite shoddy attempts.

“Hey now, I may be part of Bowser’s Army, but I’m not here to—”

“Bowser?!” The Toad started yelling even louder and hopping back and forth on his feet, shaking the ground beneath the two, in what could only be described as a dance of panic.

Wait… shaking the ground?

Kolba looked down and saw that the ground around them was cracking from the Toad’s stomping. He reached out his arms and tried to get him to stop, but the Toad seemed too enveloped in his own frenzy to notice anything else in the world.

And then the ground beneath them gave way, revealing the gaping maw of a long-range warp pipe. Kolba turned to get to safety, but the rim of the pipe was too far away and he had already begun falling.

If this was any other pipe, he would have been fine, and could just be sent back up and out once he reached the warp zone. But because this area was inactive, so too was the warp pipe, and so no warping was possible. A panic welled within him, but he took a deep breath and made to recall his training for situations like these. The rhyme for long falls… 

Pull in your limbs and tuck in your head, that’s how you don’t end up dead!

And so he did just that, giving himself a slight spin in the process. There was always something comforting about being inside a shell, the walls pressing close, offering a peace wherever one may go, providing protection from basically everything, halting any possible dizziness. To say it was simply ‘nice’ would be to put it far too mildly.

After what was probably around half a minute, he felt his shell bounce on the hard metal at the bottom of the pipe, the spin keeping him from turning in any other directions, and the bouncing stopped, he stuck out his legs to halt the spinning and then fully emerged. It was almost completely dark, the only light being what little made it down from the entrance high above.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then sat down to brainstorm a way out, but his thoughts were interrupted by a strange rhythmic squeaking noise, slowly getting louder and louder. He looked up just in time to have the giant mushroomy head of the Toad hit him in the snout, squeaking even louder. As his unwilling assailant fell face down on the ground, Kolba rubbed the point of impact; though it wasn’t really painful, it wasn’t exactly comfortable either.

The Toad popped up and whipped around. “Gah! You’re here too?! Why?!”

“...Because you broke the ground beneath us…”

“HUH?! How?!”

“...With all your yelling and screaming and stomping. Like that.” Kolba tried not to be overtly rude, but he couldn’t help but let a slight amount of irritation creep into his voice.

His comment, however, seemed to get the Toad to realize what happened and calm down. “...Alright, fine, no, that’s right…” he looked around, likely coming to the same conclusions Kolba did. “So now what? I’m stuck at the bottom of a warp pipe next to a Koopa Troopa with no way out. What did I do to deserve any of this?!”

Now that was just plain rude. “Well, since it seems we won’t be getting out of here anytime soon, you can sit down and quit acting like I’m the worst thing since Bowser’s Hotel Scheme.”

He made to protest, but immediately his eyes seemed to fill with sudden realization. There was a moment’s pause, then he took a deep breath and plastered a weird smile, somehow both entirely genuine and entirely forced, onto his face. “I’m sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Hi! My name’s Jol, as in Jol T. I’m from the town of Shroomvale.”

Now that was better. Kolba plastered on his own mostly-real smile. “Hello, I’m Kolba, Kolba Koopa. I’m part of the Koopa Troop in Bowser’s Army. Pleased to meet you!”

Kolba stuck out his hand for Jol to shake. He hesitated at first, but then grabbed onto it and quickly shook it. His face seemed to relax in relief. “Oh, good! I thought that might’ve hurt…”

This comment came as a surprise to Kolba. “How exactly would a handshake hurt you?”

Jol seemed to fidget back and forth, realizing what he said, then stumbled about for an answer, saying nothing that Kolba could find meaning in besides what was probably a sort of backpedaling. Eventually, he interrupted, tired of the pointless blubbering.

“Look, it seems like you have some… ‘conceptions’ about me that are preventing us from talking like two normal individuals. So, if you would, please tell me what the problem is so we can work things out. I am all ears.”

The Toad stared at Kolba, with some mixture of confusion and shock, then sighed and began to formulate his words properly. “It’s just… after all the attacks by Bowser on Peach’s Castle, and all the Mario Brothers’ adventures to stop him, rumors start going around, y’know? That the members of Bowser’s Army will stop at nothing to help him, that they coat themselves with something that makes those aligned with Peach unable to normally touch them without getting hurt, that they are imbued with an evil magic that makes their every move serve some purpose of Bowser’s. And now that I say it out loud, to you, it sounds completely insane! But… when so many around you say something, it kinda affects how you think, y’know?”

Kolba closed his eyes and thought. He knew that rumors spread about the Troop, but he had no idea that some were like this. A part of him wanted to feel insulted, but he then suddenly realized that his own societies had similar misgivings.

“Well, some of us aren’t too much better. For a time, I was convinced that all Toads, save for a select few that I could count on one hand, were complete cowards who couldn’t do anything to try to save themselves from danger.”

“Oh? What changed your mind?”

“Met a decent handful over the years who attempted to fight off our attacks. I don’t think it ever worked, but I admired the thought, and felt bad that our assaults succeeded in spite of their efforts.”

Jol nodded, something seeming to give him pause. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up again. “So, if you feel bad seeing the destruction Bowser’s Army causes, why do you still work for him?”

Kolba sighed. “It’s… a living. Obnoxious as Bowser and his direct lackeys can be, there’s a lot that’s provided free of charge, and I’ve met some good friends there. I know the attacks can be difficult, but I’d like to think that we make up for it and then some when the Mushroom Kingdom counters, which, more often than not, consists of a thorough defeat from Mario and Luigi.”

At this, Jol snickered. “Y’know, that’s honestly perfectly fair! Exactly how many times have you had to respawn due to them?”

“Oh, I’ve lost track at this point… I think I’m up to, like, fifty separate times or so?”

“Really?! Fifty times you’ve been trounced by one of their boots?”

“Or hit by a fireball, or punched in the face, or used to destroy brick blocks and then hurtled into a pit, yeah… you get used to it after a while, comes with the territory and all…”

“That’s… okay, fine, that’s honestly impressive that you’re able to put up with all that…” he paused for a moment. “Y’know, I’ve honestly never realized just how much you guys go through as well, having to serve Bowser and all. No offense, of course, the thought just never crossed my mind.”

“Eh, none taken. Though I am curious: how did you know I was a member of Bowser’s Army? Surely you don’t think every single Koopa is aligned with him?”

“Of course not! I actually have several good friends in Koloburg who are Koopas. It’s just… I guess I can just sort of ‘tell’? I don’t know what it is, there doesn't seem to be any specific visual difference, but unless someone’s in disguise, I just know who’s going to be friendly and who’s going to be hostile. …Or, would be hostile under typical circumstances, I suppose…”

“Oh, then it’s just like us! We can tell which other individuals are aligned with us and which aren’t. I guess that’s a universal thing…!”

Another brief bout of silence, then: “So… we really only get to see Bowser being the attacker… what’s he like when you’re working for him?”

“Not much better, I’d say. His Grouchiness is impatient, petulant, and pretty much impossible to please. It’s not like he mistreats us, but I think he could stand to be a little more grateful if he’s going to keep pulling these schemes to kidnap the princess. ...If you ever get the chance, don’t tell him I said any of that.”

“No worries! Why does he keep doing that anyway, if it never works out? Like, at all?”

Kolba smiled and dropped his voice to a conspiratory whisper. It wasn’t necessary, of course, but the tone would make all the more impactful. “You didn’t hear this from me, but there are rumors going around that it’s not actually Peach that he wants; they think he’s doing this to get Mario’s attention, but he doesn’t actually know how to do that… well, like a normal person. There are a couple of holes in the idea, but it certainly would make the whole situation a lot more interesting, right?”

“But didn’t he rob several other Kingdoms and throw a wedding on the Moon just to try to marry Peach, like, only a few months ago?”

“Like I said, there are a few holes. Some think Peach might be in on it all, but that’s even more flimsy… still though.”

Jol sat for a moment in thought, then shrugged and giggled. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d be at all surprised if it turned out that nearly every crisis in our kingdom was the result of the world’s most dangerous love triangle.”

“Right?! Anyway…”

The wall between them had finally been broken and taken down. For some time after that the two talked about all manners of things, laughing and joking as though they had always been friends. Eventually, however, the conversation did indeed once more die down.

Kolba stood up, Jol following suit. “So, fun as this has been, I think it’s high time we get out of here. Any ideas?”

“Oh, I completely forgot where we were… uh, hm… rope obviously wouldn’t work, and we can’t wall kick like the Bros…”

“Yeah… although…” An idea was rapidly forming in Kolba’s mind. It wasn’t guaranteed to work, but it was the best idea he had.

“Huh? What is it?”

“You know how the Brothers occasionally use this move where one stands on the other and they spin through the air?”

“Y’mean their Spin Jump? Yeah, I think I’ve seen it.”

“If we imitate it in here, if we can move the air around enough, it might provide us with enough lift to get us out of the pipe.”

“Huh… I mean, it’s worth a shot…”

“Right! Grab your bag and hop on!”

With haste, Jol leaped onto Kolba’s head, which he had to retract a bit to be able to properly grip the Toad’s feet. On his mark, the two began spinning clockwise, jumping more and more frequently, and in little time at all, they felt their jumps being boosted by the air flow. Though it was beginning to dizzy them, they kept at it, each jump and twirl bringing them slightly higher.

And then, Kolba’s feet did not reach the ground, and with a quite similar sensation to exiting a functioning warp pipe, the two shot upwards, reaching the top of the tube in about as much time as it took them to fall to its bottom. The change in space outside caused them to lose their rhythm, and the two shot off in opposite directions, each hurtling pack-first into a cliffside. Both took several seconds to catch their breath and balance, then stood.

“Yeah!! Your idea worked! Nice job!” Jol ran to Kolba and proceeded to vigorously shake his hand with both of his own. Kolba returned the gesture with far less excitement.

“I’m… honestly a bit surprised, but yeah, we’re out now! ...Should we do something about the pipe?”

Both turned and looked at the maw of where they were trapped only minutes ago, the last gusts of the wind they created dissipating into the fog.

“Nah, it’ll fix itself eventually. So, what are you going to do next?”

“I dunno about you, but I think I’ve had quite enough adventure for one day. I’m gonna head back to active places, maybe get something refreshing from a café in a simple grassy region. ...Ya wanna join me?”

Kolba thought for a moment, then grinned. “You know what? I think I will.”

And with not another word, the two began their return treks together through the grey mists.

[throwawaythewontons]

Perverse by nature

ao3 

(warning: nsfw, lesbian sex, slight objectification, internalized homophobia)

It’s not Richie’s fault per se. She doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Maybe it’s some part of some complex someone’s yet to name. maybe it’s the vaccines. Maybe she’s just horny. Maybe her parents didn’t love her enough as a kid.

Really, she’s always known. There is a name for it, but she’s not going to talk about that, because she doesn’t want to close any doors. It was comforting when she’d found out and slid so easily into the word it felt like a fat kid going down a waterslide. But she tells herself it’s not important enough to state out loud. Richie likes girls. It’s never been something she’s had to question or seek out, it’s just always been kind of, there. She’s always played with girls. Always wanted to be friends with them. Hold their hands. Touch their hair and put her hands around their waists.

It didn’t feel disgusting until started liking her best friend. It didn’t feel disgusting before she started looking at her boobs.

Elisabeth Kaspbrak (affectionately named Eddie) had been friends with Richie Tozier since kindergarten and for as long as Richie can remember she’s always been shorter than her. She was attracted to her, not in the same way she was attracted to Billie or Stan because they were made of the same matter. Because she simply didn’t put up with Richie’s antics, because she, herself, is someone to be put up with. Right from the first time she plopped down in the seat next to Richie and wiped the table down with hand sanitizer, Richie’s known. Though she was half her size, she was arguably twice as loud, twice as stubborn and twice now in…other regions.

(one could argue two times zero is still zero but back to the story)  

Eddie had spent that summer with her aunt, away from Derry and the other losers. She’d left two days after school ended, fiercely hugging Richie before she left. It was a getaway arranged by her mother (of course). Her excuse was that Eddie was going through a rebellious phase and that she needed to spend some time with good women of her family, being reminded of the right values again. During her getaway, Eddie had gone through an unexpected…growth spurt.

She’s still shorter than Richie. By far. But she’s filled out a lot more. A lot more. Well, they all have. Over the past years, they’ve all started wearing real bras, not the sports bras from the kids' section. Richie herself hadn’t filled out as much as she’d shed the weight of childhood, carving herself a new figure with sharp ribs and hip dips and boobs that weren’t even worth the effort of wearing a bra. Eddie however…

Christ, it wasn’t like she’d gone from zero to one hundred just like that. She’d always been a little curvier than the other losers (save for Bernadette). It just hadn’t been as noticeable before. Before the first day of Junior high, when Richie chained up her bike and Eddie came barreling towards her.

“Rich! Hey there loser!” she smiles wide and runs towards her. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, two strands pulled out to frame her face (Richie had watched her tie her hair back enough to know how she did it. how she flipped her head back and pulled the elastic from around her wrist, smoothing the front down and then pulling two sections out from behind her ears with her pinkies). She’s wearing tennis shoes with calf-high socks, high waisted Bermuda-shorts, and a very tight, yellow polo shirt. Richie recognized that polo. It’s one of Eddie's favorites. It hadn’t been tight when she left.

Eddie barrels into her and wraps her arms around her. She’s wearing her bookbag and she’s warm like sunshine and smells so pretty. She’s pressing up against Richie and Richie can feel everything.

Warm. Soft. Big. Squishy. Boobies. Boobsboobsboobs.

Richie’s cheeks grow hot. Her entire face grows hot. She might be sweating. Something else feels hot too. She’s trying not to squeeze Eddie’s waist too tight. She wants to press her knees together. There’s a pounding in her lower stomach and it's begging her to reach down, reach out, grab.

Eddie has boobs now.  

Design within reach. Soft and firm at the same time. Perfectly grabbable and holdable. And how Richie wants to hold, even as she feels bile in her throat and a cold sensation spreading through her forehead and down her back. She’s shaking.

Eddie draws back, the hug itself only lasting a few seconds, and is telling Richie about her aunt. Richie huffs and grunts along as best as she can. She’s good with words, just not the right ones. She takes time to look Eddie over.

God. They must have grown like, three cups apiece. Or maybe one is bigger than the other? That’s normal, apparently. They stretch out her shirt like they’re trying to escape. Hey Richie! look at us! Has she even noticed? She walks like she hasn’t. talks and moves like she doesn’t even two, her poor shirt fighting for its life. It had been too small last summer. The only reason Eddie kept it was for sentimental values. Richie wishes she’d chucked it out. Is she even wearing a bra? Richie didn’t felt any bra during their hug, only the smooth expanse of her back. This was obscene.

It was downright pornographic.

Richie lifts her bookbag from her bicycle basket and feels as the cold begins to spread down her spine like poison.

This objectification, this ruff sexualization, fetishization of another girl’s body. It’s new. Of her friend. Of someone who should trust her. It’s sadistic. It’s vile. Eddie shouldn’t have to worry about her best friend ogling her like a piece of meat. Richie is no better than the old men who sit in front of the pharmacy, or the boys in the hallway who snap bras and look under skirts. She’s a sexual deviant and it’s never been more apparent, transparent or provocative.

She gratefully slips into a different classroom than Eddie. Never has history felt so relieving.

She doesn’t concentrate. The pounding between her legs had died down and she’s left with only the cold. Shame. She had always looked differently at girls. admired the soft curves of their faces and eyelashes. How they applied their Chapstick. Richie is grateful she’s not born as a man and isn’t sporting a hard-on right now. She can admire from afar. No accidental boners to squish. No telltales. Her nipples don’t even get hard unless directly stimulated, even if all the pornos are trying to convince her otherwise.

But wouldn’t it have been easier if she was a guy? Not because it would be forgiven for her to go rigid at a pair of tits, but because it would be expected of her? Perhaps everything is easier with a penis involved. Perhaps Richie is a dyke. The truth is somewhere in the pudding. Perhaps this is a fluke. A slipup on behalf of her pubescent brain. This is new and exciting, and her brain mistook it for arousal. With time it will fade away as all hyper fixations do. She might still like to hold Eddie’s hand in the movie theatre but they won’t be kissing while they do it.

For lunch, they meet up with the other girls and Bev. They all huddle together on their blue plastic benches like they always do. The table smells like cleaning supplies and library coffee. Eddie’s new boobs stretch and squish together as she talks with her hands and her thigh is brushing up against Richie. Did they get bigger too? Richie is too afraid to look. They’re sitting close like they always do, and for once Richie dreads it. well, that’s not entirely true. There’s always been a certain amount of risk in being around Eddie. she likes it like that. Pushing too close, too far. Someone catching her starring or reading the subtitles. But no one’s said anything like that. Maybe girls are allowed to be close like that.  

(perhaps it is easier, not because it is expected, but because it is forgiven)

What if they already know? What if it’s too late, too obvious and they’re just testing how far she will go. This just in: Richie Tozier really a lesbian? She is, as all high schoolers are, part of a game. A hierarchy. Many have framed it as a war, but really, it’s closer to a gameshow.

Will she start creeping on her classmates in the locker rooms. (“be careful, I think she’s a lesbian,” Drew Newman whispers behind her, she’s talking to the new girl in school. It’s 5th grade and Richie said she liked her t-shirt) will she take pictures of them in the shower? touch another student? Kiss another student? Cut her hair short like a boy and shove her giant nose in their pussies?

Richie quietly eats her sandwich. Stan is sitting across from her, carefully wiping her mouth after each of her fries, even if there’s no sauce. Next to her Billie is playing with Mikey’s hair, gently braiding and re-braiding a section as she speaks. None of them are looking at Richie.  

Is that what they look like to others? She and Eddie? two girls sitting on a bench braiding hair?

She knows no one can read her mind. Not even Stan. If they can they haven’t said anything yet, and Richie hopes they keep it that way. If you look objectively, they’re doing nothing. They’re sitting next to each other. They’re eating their lunch. Seeking occasional contact, as all primates do. But true objectivity doesn’t exist in humans, and that might be the scariest thing of them all to someone like Richie. Even the concept of objectivity is a subjective term because it’s a word and a concept, made up by humans and equipped with its own fair share of subjective weight. Humans are subjective creatures. Deeply so. Really, truly, are they just sitting next to each other?

Richie doesn’t claim to know the truth, only a version of it.

.

It’s a month later when Eddie comes over to her house. It’s been a month of Richie living in limbo, looking away and admiring from afar. She masturbates every night before going to bed now. It helps her sleep.

She wants to grab her tits. She wants to squeeze them and push them against herself. Kiss the bridge between them and press her face into them. lick them and suck at the skin around the areola. Rub her nipples. Kiss them. lick and suck them. she wants Eddie to grab onto her hair and gasp into the air. Wrap her soft thighs around Richie and ask her for more.

Richie sometimes fantasizes about what would happen, if she grabbed them at their lunch table. Or in the hallway. if she just went up to Eddie and started groping her, looking her directly in the face as she did it. what would happen?

In fantasy land, Eddie’s eyes widen and she looks up at Richie in shock. Her cheeks go red and her mouth goes silent. But she doesn’t stop her. She gasps and presses her body into Richie’s. She moans pathetically as she grabs onto her for support and her face crumbles in arousal. Her thighs push together when Richie starts playing with her nipples and kissing her neck. Others fade away in the background and Richie reaches down and hikes up Eddie’s skirt, rubbing her through her panties and she moans and fists Richie’s cardigan.

In the real world though, Richie knows. She knows that wouldn’t happen. In the real world, she wouldn’t even stand a chance. Eddie would jerk back, maybe even push her. She would be disgusted. Her eyes widen in horror as she realizes who she’s allowed close to her, who she’d been sitting next to, every lunch period for years. Who she’d shared her food with, her secrets with, her comic books and her bed with. They’d spent so much time together as kids, sleeping over at each other’s houses with the other losers. How many of those nights had Richie spent awake, staring at her? Touching her? The color returns to Eddie’s face as she shifts from disgust to rage. Hatred. The other losers at their table, the people in the hallway, now begin to whisper. Their teachers look on with pity and disappointment.

“Be careful…”

Right between the two fantasies, is where Richie comes. The first is her own creation. Her dramaturgy where she decides who plays who. Who does what. The second one is the fire that burns it all down, the second is the aftermath. The water that washes the paint off and reveals an ugly face underneath. She can’t say which is her favorite because it is one. One fantasy. one never comes without the other. It’s a euphoria that comes with high risk and Richie falls for it every time.

This must be how a cult is formed , she thinks, one night in her misery. One person gets an idea and others are looped in, promised an elation of life with no idea that there’s a shotgun pointed at their head. Is it possible to brainwash yourself?

She’s standing in her kitchen when she hears the doorbell ring. She puts down her Fanta as she goes to open the door. And of course, Eddie is outside.

“Hi Rich!” she’s wearing a white button-up cardigan and high waisted red shorts. She’s holding a blue shopping bag. Richie doesn’t recognize the shorts. But she knows the cardigan used to be Stans. It looks better on Eddie.

“hey there Spaghetti,” she leans into the doorframe, getting into character, “what brings you to my store?”  

“I wanna talk to you asshole. Also, stop calling me spaghetti, it’s annoying.” She pushes past Richie and toes off her tennis shoes. Richie lets her. She closes the front door and waits until Eddie is done.

“any particular topic?”

Eddie shakes her head. “no, just wanted to talk to you.”

Richie smiles and goes back into the kitchen, charmed by her abandoned Fanta can. Eddie follows and wrinkles her nose as Richie takes a sip.

“do you even know what’s in that stuff?”

Richie takes an extra loud sip, swishes it around in her mouth like Listerine and swallows.

“do you?”

Eddie squirms (to Richie’s amusement), “your parents are dentists. What would your dad do, huh? If he knew what a bitch you are?”

Richie burbs and blows into Eddie’s face. “applaud.”

“you’re an ass.”

Richie delivers what she calls her Hollywood-smile and stares Eddie in the face. Eddie herself is delivering an excellent battle face, jaw slightly pushed out and penciled eyebrows pushing together. She doesn’t mean it, neither of them does to the extent of their act, but it’s fun to perform their quick-paced comedy. Even if they are the only audience members. Richie, this time, is the one to put down her sword and blink.

“Seriously though, do you want a drink? There’s lemonade in the fridge.”

“I want tea,” Eddie drops the face and starts rummaging through their cupboards. Richie amuses at the routineness of Eddie’s movement.

It was not unusual for her to show up unannounced like today. Many Sunday mornings, Maggie and Wentworth could be sitting in the kitchen and enjoying their toast, and Eddie Kaspbrak would simply wander in and take a glass of juice without any of them even looking up. Most of the time though, Eddie would quickly disappear upstairs to Richie’s room. She finds everything without having to ask. It’s one of Richie’s favorite things about her. It’s proof of their friendship in the most literal way there is. through muscle memory. It’s not something obvious, but to the observant outsider, it’s undeniable. It’s a part of Eddie’s body that wasn’t there before. Because of Richie, it is.

She gathers all the things she needs in on the prickled countertop tiles next to the stove. A box of lemon-flavored teabags, a mug (adorned with the phrase “best dad ever”, a not very well-received Mother’s Day gift) and a jar of honey from the drawer below the silverware.

Richie watches her quietly from the corner, leaning on the wall next to the microwave. Taking her time to appreciate just what Stans cardigan is doing for Eddie. taking her time to be guilty about it later.

It’s times like this, with Eddie tinkering around her kitchen, that she slips into another fantasy of hers. A seldom one of her and Eddie being married. One where Eddie is her housewife, wearing a dress that Richie bought for her, a necklace that Richie bought for her, a ring Richie bought for her and standing in a kitchen in a house that Richie bought too. She’s cooking breakfast. Maybe there are kids in the background. Richie comes down from upstairs, where she’s shaved and brushed her teeth. She’s wearing a suit and holding a briefcase. Her short hair is slicked back, and Eddie fixes her tie before kissing her. Richie grabs onto her waist, squeezing her dress (it’s satin, no, maybe it’s a picnic dress, with red and white checkers, either way, it fits in all the right places) and lifting her thigh. The kiss grows deeper, Eddie’s heat is drawing her in, and Richie, in the real world takes another sip from her soda.

In this scenario, Richie is a man. It’s part of why she rarely indulges. She doesn’t want to be a man, but if she’s married to a woman, she must. it just makes sense. It can’t work any other way. In the same way that two plus two equals four. A man and a woman can get married Anything else, is not a marriage.

Eddie is not her wife. Certainly not her housewife. In real life, Richie doesn’t have a beard or a cock. She’s wearing jeans and her dad’s old Rolling Stones t-shirt, not a suit. In real life, she’s a teenage girl with a complex.

Eddie finishes her tea, puts all the supplies back (because she’s annoying and organized like that) and climbs up on the counter. her thighs are pressed together. She sways her feet and holds the mug between her hands. Richie is all but reminded of how small she is again. Her feet dangle over the floor. Richie knows if she wants to get down, she’ll have to use the nubs on their kitchen drawers to stand on if she doesn’t want her feet to hurt. Or she’ll have to ask Richie for help.

They stand in silence. Each with their respective drinks, like strangers at a bus stop.

She looks beautiful in the sunlight.

“Actually, I need a favor.”

Aha. So, no talking after all.

“I, uhm,” she’s still looking at her tea, but her hand fumbles to the blue bag next to her. It’s not until now Richie notices she’s brought it with her to the kitchen. She awkwardly hands it to Richie

“I need a place to wash this.”

Richie opens the bag and her heart skips a fucking beat.

It’s a bra. It’s Eddie’s bra. Two of them, actually. Richie can feel the slippery polyester through the bag. They’re plain. Underwire. One is grey and one is a soft pink.

“eh…”

She doesn’t know what to say. Fuck. How do you recover from something like this? Which one-liners are appropriate when your crush hands you a bag of bras? She’s blushing. This is bad.

“I’m sorry!” Eddie says, and she sounds like she really means it, “it’s just, I’ve grown a bit lately and I…my mom, you know how she is!”

“she won’t let you wash your underwear?”

“no but she…she doesn’t know I have it…”

Richie puts the bag down. This is going off the rails.

“what?”

Eddie sighs heavily. She tilts her chin upwards at the ceiling. The look of a pained soldier in her eyes. She’s frustrated, Richie can see her trying to fight it. but maybe there’s more. Something Richie knows all too well.

“I bought them myself,” she says, “my old ones don’t fit me anymore, and I was too scared to say anything to her. She hasn’t said anything yet, so I don’t know if she’s noticed. And it’s just…it’s hard to talk about this stuff to begin with! You know? But my mom? She’s…she’d freak out! she already thinks I’m hitting puberty too early even though I’m almost an adult. She says it’s because I’ve been drinking tap water, tap water Richie! Plus, my aunt is nagging me about modesty all of a sudden because she’s definitely noticed, and everyone keeps staring at me! Like, all the time! Mr. Harris? My fucking teacher? He keeps standing behind me in gym class and it’s really creeping me out. And I need to wash my fucking underwear so will you please help me?”

Richie watches her squirm. She doesn’t know what to say.

People are starring

Yeah, and Richie is one of them

But Eddie is right. Sonia Kaspbrak is a woman of a certain genre. If she knew that her little girl was anything over a b-cup, who knew how she would react. In Sonia’s narrow mind (praise who knew what was going on in there) this would read as a direct attack against herself. this would usually lead to a medicinal approach. At Eddie’s expense of course. Either way, it was awkward enough for Richie and her mother. Richie could only imagine how Eddie felt.

As for the rest of what she’d said. Richie would wallow in that later. Always later. For now, she does her best to be comforting.

“of course I’ll help you.”

Eddie sighs, “thank you.” She starts to climb down from the counter. Richie automatically puts down her drink and goes to help her. Eddie grabs her arm. She’s leaning on her. Not fully but almost. But she pauses momentarily.

“I knew you’d understand. You always do.”

Richie smiles, “what, you think I can relate?” she nods down at herself. in the white folds of her father’s oversized shirt, she looks like a boy.

Eddie licks her lips. “I don’t think it’s a matter of relating Rich.”

She says it so quietly, her brown eyes are staring up at Richie’s. her breath smells like lemons, and something secret. The inside of her mouth. Something that Richie would find gross if it wasn’t Eddie. she looks terribly open and beautiful. And Richie is, at that moment, mesmerized. She doesn’t notice Eddie slipping further down the counter and when she does, she stumbles. Richie grabs onto the first thing she finds before she realizes what’s happening.

Oh no.

Eddie’s eyes widen. Her lips part and a small gasp falls from her lips. Richie let’s go immediately. All the blood has drained from her face. She might faint. Her hand feels warm. Too warm. And the worst part is how tight her crotch is.

Soft. Warm. Smooth yet firm. And big. God, it was even better than she had imagined. Even if she only touched her for a brief second.

“sorry! I’m so sorry” Richie steps back quickly, Eddie slides the rest of the way onto the floor with a soft thud. Everything inside Richie is crumbling

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Richie it’s okay, it was an accident.”

“I’m sorry, everything you said…you just talked about how awful it is and I’m being part of the problem.”

“Richie…”

Richie plops down in a chair. it’s her moms’ seat. She stares at her hands. Her hand. She can’t look Eddie in the eye. She’s fucking up.

“I didn’t mean to…I don’t want to make it worse. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Not because of me.”

The kitchen is heavy with silence. Richie can’t look at Eddie’s face right now. She can’t read her thoughts. Her feelings. Her judgment. But she can imagine. Eddie is shocked. Scared. She’s starring at Richie and wondering what to do now. what she’ll do to overcome this. Sweep it under the rug, so she can still be friends with Richie. Because Richie knows that’s how Eddie is. she’s used to pushing small things to the side. Forgetting accidents. Forgiving those she loves. Letting herself be violated.

Or she’s wondering how she can leave. Preparing herself to walk out of Richie’s front door and never coming back. Never being alone with Richie again. because of what she might do.

Richie is not coming back from this.

“Richie…” she repeats. Silent again. the same way she spoke just a minute ago. And it makes Richie look up.

Here it comes. Here comes the rejection. I think I should leave. Be careful…

Instead, Eddie steps closer. She holds her hands at her side. But now she gently grabs Richie’s hand and lifts it for her. She leads it up to her chest. presses it against her breast. Richie swallows. Her mouth tastes like sour Fanta. She barely dares to breathe; incase it scares Eddie. or maybe it scares herself.

Yet, Eddie compels her. as always.

“Eddie...”

She grabs onto Eddie. before she can change her mind. Her fingertips press into the fleshy body below her hand. It’s warm. Even through her clothes, she’s warm. Eddie’s lips part.

“I…I don’t mind it…” she whispers, “I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Richie’s hands spring alive, she grabs onto Eddie firmly, bringing her left hand up to join. She grabs her boobs. One firmly in each hand, and squeezes. Hard. Feels their roundness, their firmness. Feels them press against Eddie’s cardigan. It’s too small. What is it with Eddie and wearing shirts that are too small?

Eddie lets out a chocked sound, too close to a moan, and Richie can’t take it anymore. Eddie’s legs are bending before Richie grabs her, but she pulls her down the rest of the way by her hips. She lands on Richie’s lap. Richie spreads her knees, so Eddie’s thighs are forced to follow. she’s heavy and hot. Pressing against Richie in all the right places. Her thighs, her ass, and her tummy are soft and warm too. Deliciously fleshy. Everything about her is so soft. She smells like peaches. Eddie grabs her cheek and presses their mouths together.

Richie might’ve fainted along the way. Maybe hours ago. She’s dreaming. She’s sleeping in her bed upstairs. Her head is spinning between Eddie’s hands. Her mouth feels exactly how she imagined, yet somehow, everything else. She’s real. That’s the main difference. She’s real. And Richie can touch her and kiss her as much as she wants. She can hold her here if she wants to. there are only two people in the world, as far as she knows.

Eddie is gasping into her mouth. Her hips are moving in soft circles as Richie fondles her ass. She’s looking for something. She might not even realize she’s doing it. Richie pushes her own hips up in return. Pushing them together. And as she does, she starts to undo Eddie’s cardigan. The small buttons slip out easily, and really, it’s a miracle they’ve been holding on so long. She breaks their kiss out into intermit pecking to watch soft skin appear bit by bit. Inch by inch, until the soft curve of her cleavage, is in full view. She’s even prettier up close. The bra underneath is black, but Richie does quick work of unclasping it. it falls around Eddie’s waist, caught in her cardigan. Eddie untucks it and Richie throws the bra onto the floor. The infamous blue bag is sitting somewhere on the floor too, and Richie trust they end up together. She, however, is occupied by Eddie.

She’s gorgeous. Her boobs are not as perky without her bra. They’re big and directly in Richie’s face, her nipples hardening in the cold. They’re directly in Richie’s face, and Richie’s mouth tingles. She leans forwards, wasting no time as she sucks on her right nipple.  

Eddie lets out a gasp above her, then she moans. Long and desperate, like she can’t stop it. Richie lets out a sound of her own, a sound she doesn’t recognize and presses Eddie impossibly closer. Her crotch is painfully tight, and she rubs up against Eddie in ecstasy.

“R-Richie~”

She’s grabbing onto Richie and Richie is grabbing back. She’s touching everything. Feeling, fondling, tracing, rubbing, pinching, sucking. There’s so much of her. So much to feel. To sense. To take in. she kisses the space between her breasts and her collarbones. Presses her lips against her chest and pulls her tits against her face. Engulfs in her heat. Kneads her right boob as she sucks on the other. An unending hunger pushes her further. Makes her sink deeper. Bite. Somewhere along the way, Eddie’s pants are unbuttoned.

“ah!...h-Rich..”

“Eddie.”

Eddie, again, takes her hand and guides her. This time downwards.

“touch me.”

Her zipper slides down further. dark red fabric parts to reveal olive skin, clean and untouched by the sun. paler than the rest of her. When Richie touches her there, her stomach flutters. She traces the rim of her faded yellow panties one time and dives in.

She’s hotter here than anywhere else on her body.

She’s not clean-shaven, but almost. The hairs are short and even. Neatly kept out of the way. Surprisingly in character. Richie feels all around the fleshy rim of her pussy, investigating. She’s never touched another girl before. But she knows the layout from herself. above her, Eddie has gone quiet. She leans back to look.

She’s holding her breath. Her eyes are closed and she’s biting the inside of her lip. Her nails are digging into Richie’s arm. She’s shaking. Richie watches her. This time she doesn’t look away. Stares at her. Savors her face. Every little wrinkle and curve. She presses her finger against Eddie’s clit. The dampness of her folds almost touches her hand.

“do you like it?”

“yes,” Eddies expression breaks into a gasp, “it feels…h…it feels really good…ah!”

Richie watches her. She watches her and keeps watching her as she rubs Eddie’s clit in rough circles. She’s warm and wet. Overwhelmingly so. Richie dives her fingers in between her folds to feel just how soaked she is. It’s bleeding onto the insides of her thighs, dampening the edges of her panties. Richie briefly pushes her folds apart to feel the edge of her hole. Then she decides against it and goes back to her clit.

“oh~Richie!”

She switches position, this time using two fingers to slide in on either side of Eddie’s clit and pushing them together. She alternates the pressure between the two until she’s rolling Eddie between her fingers. This way, she can go much faster. Eddie starts moving her hips with little rocks. Faster and faster. Her thighs were squeezing Richie’s, knees digging into her sides.

“Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie!”

She's pressed completely into Richie. her tits collide with Richie’s sweaty collarbones, her hair is in Richie’s face. Richie gladly buried herself in her. If there was any grave better than Eddie Kaspbrak…

Eddie

Eddie goes quite. She’s not breathing. Then comes with a shout, clutching onto Richie like a dying man. Her moans take shapes of sharp hysterical breaths. Soft liquid coats Richie’s hand that she later wipes off in her jean leg.

Gross.

Eddie would scold her about it that later

They sit in her mother’s kitchen chair for a few more moments with the sun hitting the back of Eddie’s hair. she’s worn it down today. She rarely does, save for Saturdays. But today is a Saturday. So Richie runs her hand through it. she’s breathing heavily on Richie’s neck and Richie thinks she might’ve fallen asleep.

“are you okay?”

Eddie isn’t asleep. She giggles. It’s a surprisingly adult sound. And Richie is hit with the passing of time again. She and Eddie are almost adults. Most would refer to them as young instead of children now. The sunlight makes it worse. Her hand is warm and tingles a bit. But that part might be her imagination.  

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“I’m still sorry about accidentally touching your boob by the way.”

“you’ve never been one to shy away from grabbing the bull by the horns.”

“grabbing the hottie by the hooters.”

Eddie sits back a little. Her shirt is still open. So are her shorts. she rolls her eyes. Richie leans in until their noses are touching.

“I’m not sorry about grabbing your boobs on purpose though,” She says, “and I hope to get to grab them again in the future.”

Eddie smiles. Her mouth stays closed. It’s a small and secret smile, with little wrinkles at the side. It might be a little embarrassed. But it’s full of what Richie hopes is love.

“I’m glad.”

They kiss a little bit until they hear a car door slam. Richie’s dad is returning from his tennis lessons, and Eddie quickly buttons up her shirt. They both stand up at Richie picks up the bra from the floor and stuff is into the blue cloth bag. Her dad enters the kitchen just as she closes it.

“hey-oh hi Eddie.”

“Hey Mr. Tozier,” Eddie smiles politely, and Richie grabs her hand.

“I think we’re gonna go upstairs dad,” she says and pulls Eddie out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. Her dad raises his eyebrows but doesn’t protest.

“Okay, you girls have fun…wait, Eddie, don’t you want your tea?”

“no thanks Mr. Tozier it’s cold by now!”

They close the door to Richie’s room behind them.

[paperbagpetrichor]

Alright so hear me out: Soulmate AU but with Koichi. The reader and Koichi know they're tird together by the red string, but a certain person is jamming their relationship--

The red string of fate had always been a comfort to you.  It was a steady reminder that no matter what, no matter who you were or what you did, there would always be someone who loved you regardless of it all: your soulmate.  You didn’t know who that person was, not yet, but you knew they were there.  Somewhere, on this big but beautiful earth.  Sometimes you thought you would never find your soulmate.  Most of your friends had already at least felt a tug on their string, a sign that they were near their soulmate, or even found the person on the other end of their string, beginning to date, but not you.  Your string was always loose, limp.  Friends had promised you it would change soon, but with the passage of time, their soon became days, weeks, months, years.  There was someone out there for you, sure.  And that thought pleased you.  But you were troubled by the simple possibility that you would never find them, die before even having the chance to experience happiness by their side, without feeling true love.  

You were equally as dejected about the move as you were interested.  Because of your father’s job, you would have to leave Tokyo, your city life, your school, your environment, your house, and your friends behind, all to start from scratch in some small, out-of-the-way town called Morioh.  Without so much of having heard of the place until the day of your move, you rested, crestfallen, against your car window throughout the drive.  You helped somberly set up your new house.  As you were nearly finished, you began to explore your new room, filling it with your things only to feel something.  A slight tug.  Nothing more than the resistance of a butterfly, and for a few seconds you chalked it up to your saddened heart playing cruel tricks on you, only to feel it once more.  You could hardly control yourself at the flush of joy that flooded through your veins.  They were here.  Maybe not close, but closer than ever before.  And the morning you began your new school life there, your hopes were confirmed.  Something strong tethered you to certain areas, near the door of your classrooms and leaving you in certain places in the cafeteria during lunch.  You regretted leaving.  After a few minutes on the walk home you could feel the tie loosen, throwing you back into your thoughts of what might’ve happened had you not moved.

Although you weren’t one to initiate anything, the stakes were high.  You tugged at the rope while in school, and your significant other did, too, but despite it all your never seemed to be able to find one another.  He had to be going to the same school.  You knew that much, at the very least.  But there were thousands of people in school - it was practically the only high school in all of Morioh.  You weren’t even sure if this person was in your grade or not.  Nevertheless, one day, as you began to walk home, after not feeling even the slightest tug on your string despite being at school, something sharp dragged you west, away from your home.  With a gentle pull of a response, you darted off.  Was now the time?  Were you finally going to meet them? What did they look like?  How did they act?  Would they approve of you, or simply stick with you because of the laws of the land?  

Whatever you had in mind, it was not what you found in your horrified gaze down the hill, the rope tauter than ever, yanking on your finger relentlessly as you stared down at what must’ve been something like a house, now covered in coiled black tendrils, squeezing inward relentlessly.  Was this the stand of your soulmate?  Did he even have a stand?  What the hell was going on at that residence?  With determination in your heart, you approached quickly, readying your stand with precision and emerging from the back of the house.  None of the doors could be opened - all of them were covered in hair.  If you leaned in closely, you could hear two voices.  One, a maniacal, crazed laughter of a voice, and the other soft and scared, nevertheless with an edge of strength at its biting ends.  A girl and a boy.  The girl was trying to - she wanted to kill the boy.

Thankfully her stand hadn’t seemed to notice your presence.  You couldn’t get through any of the windows as they, too, were covered with thick black locks.  If you tried to touch them you risked being caught.  But it was clear to you now: the tugs and releases of your string happened in motion with the boy’s footsteps, growing as he stepped back and loosening as he jumped forward.  With a heavy inhale you prepared yourself and aimed your stand at a small patch of the roof that hadn’t been completely covered, and threw your stand - and yourself - against it.  Before you knew it you were crashing to the ground, landing upright at the last moment and scrambling to your feet, eyes surveying the scene.  Everything was chaos.  Broken items littered the floor, the house shook, a silver-haired boy darted about, yelling at the girl who stood in the doorway, both of them completely oblivious to your arrival, likely their confrontation drowning out your entrance and landing, the breaking structure of the house blocking you from their sight.  In seconds your stand was battling the girl, dodging her attacks and managing to get a few good hits in, only to be followed by what had to have been the boy’s stand taking advantage of the time you’d gained him and the spaces you’d cleared.  You saw the black tendrils retreating from the back of the house and the two of you whittled away at the girl, getting caught every now and then but quickly regaining yourselves, two against one certainly helping.  You heard her frustrated shouts as she noticed your stand.  “Where the hell did this come from?” she raged, managing to entangle the entirety of your stand within hers, squeezing tight as a cobra and forcing the air out of your lungs, finding it harder and harder to breathe as she continued, “What have you done to me, Koichi?”  

Koichi - the boy - glanced in confusion around, eyes never finding the user of the stand he saw, but nonetheless considered a friend (or at least not an enemy).  “I didn’t do anything!” he pleaded.  “Let them go!”  And then he realized the tightness of his string, eyes widening.  His string didn’t match the attacking girl’s.  Instead it snaked back around into the kitchen, behind a counter, and without thinking he put all of his strength into echoes, managing to distract the girl and break you free for a moment before the unthinkable happened: she caught the string tying you and Koichi together.  With a jolt forwards you were dragged into their view only to find the girl snipping her own thread off - disconnecting herself from her destined soulmate - and shooting down at yours.

“It’s this bitch, isn’t it?!” she yelled, managing to cut a small slice of your string apart as you rose breathlessly, rushing to Koichi’s side and using her distracted anger to pin her against the wall, well out of reach of your rope, clenching your teeth as she returned your attack with stinging hair, bloodying your hands and arms as Koichi’s stand moved in for attack.  Somehow her multi-limbed stand managed to take your red fabric within its grasp once more, and with an abrupt shove back you went flying, hitting the wall of the house harshly before sinking down, barely aware of what was happening until you heard the boy shout, “Yukako, stop!”

Oh.

God, no.

Her stand had lunged toward the already-damaged portion of your string, and with the last of your strength you shot out, blasting the girl with as much force as you could manage, feeling your thread tighten with hope once more as Koichi must have done the same, blowing a hole in the wall and launching the girl out in the air, flying, before roughly hitting the ground and flinching before falling still.  It wasn’t enough to kill her - you knew as much - but she should be disoriented, likely knocked out.  Your eyes caught on the string.  It hung together by only a few loose ends, but it was there.

Almost instantly the boy was helping you to your feet, and you brushed yourself off with a quiet thank you.  “What was that?” you inquired incredulously, glancing around at the total destruction, eyes shot open with confusion, fear, and something like relief.

The boy shook his head.  “I - she attacked me.”  In a lower voice, he added, “She wanted to sever my string and hers to unite them.  She’s insane,” he breathed heavily before taking you in, surprised at how beautiful you were, especially after an intense altercation like that.  Nevertheless cuts dotted your arms and hands, nothing too serious, but an abundance of them nevertheless. “Are you alright?”

You nodded.  “Yeah.  How about you, Koichi?”

“I’ll be alright,” he replied.  “Oh - you probably overheard that from Yukako and I.  My name is Koichi Hirose.  I don’t know where to even...all I can say...thank you, so much.”

With a small smile, you informed, “It was nothing.  I’m [y/n] [l/n].”  You paused for a moment, gently lifting your string from the ground and tracing it to Koichi’s finger, a glimmer of relief flashing in your eyes, hope overtaking your body, as you stared at him, your smile never changing, as his face dawned with realization.

He picked up the string himself and traced it back to you, careful around the tattered region.  “You’re - [y/n], we’re soulmates.”

“Yeah,” you began.  “I suppose your friend there wasn’t too happy about that, hm?  Let’s get out of here while we still can.  And - it’s nice to finally meet you, Koichi.”

“You too, [y/n].”  

Your name sounded perfect in his voice.

[hows-it-holed-up]

Perfunctory Photo Recap: Alias 1x01

After starting off with Gossip Girl and swinging wildly in the other direction for my second post, I decided a happy medium for No. 3 would be that early-aughts ABC classic, Alias. The show premiered basically immediately after 9/11, and I started watching it in 2002 with its mid-season premiere – meaning I missed the first half of the first season and didn’t get to watch it until it RE-AIRED over the summer of 2002. (How did we ever live without streaming apps? Unfathomable.) Anyway, I was obsessed with this show when it was on, and I suspect it’ll hold up pretty well, even though we’re the better part of 20 years out from the pilot. Let’s get our spy on!

My Disclaimer: None of these posts will be in any way comprehensive, because I’m lazy. All of them are probably going to have spoilers of some sort for the entire series…or at least what I remember of it from when I last watched it an eon ago. Exactly what you want in a recap!

The Prophecy: Our heroine Sydney Bristow thinks she works for the CIA, but learns pretty quickly (after they murder her fiancé) that she’s been a bit of a dummy! She actually works for the bad guys – an organization called SD-6. Will she just sit back and accept it? That would make for a pretty short series! 

Fresh off his thrill-a-minute action masterpiece Felicity, J.J. Abrams stays brand consistent, opening his new series with some light waterboarding. 

We cut almost immediately to Sydney in a college classroom (there we go, J.J.), where she’s scribbling furiously in a blue book and giving me anxiety-induced flashbacks. She meets up with her BF...

Who proposes to her on “the quad” while singing “Build Me Up Buttercup” at the top of his lungs. I remember finding this adorably romantic in high school. If someone inflicted this on me now I would literally walk away and never speak to them again. 

Syd here seems to be contemplating the exact same thing. But she (somehow) gets over it and says yes.  

Wow, there it is! “The CIA.” Honestly, Sydney really should have figured out this wasn’t legit almost immediately. No way the vibe at ANY CIA office is industrial chic. There’s barely a fluorescent light to be found! 

LOOK AT BABY BRADLEY COOPER! (Yes, this screengrab was very strategic.)

He’s so crestfallen when she tells him she’s engaged to Doug or Dave or whatever his name is. Poor BB. Don’t worry Bradley! He’ll have shuffled this mortal coil by halfway through the episode.

Annnnd this is why:

Big no-no!

He freaks out and I guess runs off. When they meet up again it’s at some oil-pumping hoosit in Bakersfield or some such, and she gives him some cringeworthy line about having always hoped she’d find someone to give her life meaning and he’s the one etc. etc. GROAN. 

Then she jets off on her latest mission, where the best part is she gets to use her real accent for about 10 seconds. 

As a southern(ish) lady myself, I always get a little delight when I hear a good southern accent! Everyone seems to think they can do a flawless one, but it’s almost impossible to find someone who’s not from the region and can do it properly. The attempts are usually skin-crawlingly bad.

Anyway, after the mission, she returns home to a not-very-nice surprise. 

J. Garn is VERY good in this scene. 

After a wee confrontation with her boss about the small matter of murdering her fiancé, we cut back to the torture scene, where Sydney’s got some jokes! 

LOLLL!!!!1! But to be fair they did shoot her full of a big ol’ syringe of something we’ll assume is affecting her frontal lobe, or whatever. You try being funny in the middle of a drug-enhanced torture session. 

Anyway, we cut back to Dorian’s funeral, where we get eyes on Will’s (Bradley Cooper’s) sister, who happens to have fire-engine red hair and be dressed like a British goth-punk from the ‘70s. Super approps funereal attire. And also probably nothing to do with Syd’s lil future disguise – just a total coincidence. 

Then over to this image of me, every night of this COVID-19 quarantine. Note the bottle within arm’s reach. By tomorrow I’ll probably be foregoing the glass altogether. 

When we check back in with our girl, it’s been 3 months since she’s been into the office. Prob b/c of the whole “murdered her fiancé” thing but who can say really. Anyway folks aren’t super pleased!

Like really not super pleased. 

There’s a whole fighting thing, and as Syd’s struggling to escape her dad dadus ex machinas on up:

He tells her the people she’s working for are actually the bad guys. And she’s like NUH UH! And he’s like “So then how come you’ve never been to Langley? Also come on have you seen the offices?”

Not really being able to argue with his logic but also not really trusting him, Syd runs off and steals Will’s sister’s identity (SHOCKING TWIST!). Because as all great spies know, you want to stand out as much as possible – so best practice is to dye your hair the brightest color you can manage and dress like it’s Halloween so that everyone will notice you. 

Anywho, all of that somehow works, and we arrive at the part of the narrative where she gets captured and tortured. But because she’s the star of the show, it probably won’t come as too much of a surprise that she escapes! She runs off to find the thing she was supposed to find at the beginning of the show:

A highly coveted floating clown nose! (No but actually it’s much more sinister than that and is a big deal later in the series.)

She gives it to her boss so he knows she’s back onboard:

Then heads straight for CIA HQ, where she writes down her story for this handsome fellow and offers to be a double agent for them:

Sigh. I remember being very into these two as an IRL couple and finding out they broke up immediately before a French test. I also remember I did not do excellently on said French test. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I had no interest in studying. I would probably be fluent now if it weren’t for them. 

Anyway, the CIA verifies her statement and sends an asset to let her know that she’s in:

Yes that’s what I just said. 

It turns out that papa Bristow is ALSO a CIA double agent! What a good reveal to end on! Great job J.J.! 

Debriefing:

- After spending 20 minutes searching for a free, not-illegal way to watch this sucker online (because I’m a cheap bitch), I finally gave in, swam around in my massive hope chest and literally dusted off this DVD, which it turns out I still own. Did I buy a DVD player just so I could watch my Alias, OC and Friends DVDs? Who can say! 

- I didn’t realize they introduced the Rambaldi mythology in the first episode. It’s actually pretty impressive they could maintain that as a narrative thread throughout the show. Also we’ve got a “47″ alert at 12 minutes in. 

- They have Jennifer Garner speaking a ton of languages throughout this show, as I recall. I wonder if she’s any good at any of them? She sounds vaguely convincing in the pilot, to me, but what do I know?

- I think we can all agree that Merrin Dungey is a national treasure and deserves to be a bigger star than she is. I’m always so happy to see her when she pops up in other things. And she’s great in this show. 

- Overall, the Alias pilot holds up REALLY well. It does an amazing job of giving depth to all of the characters and really making the audience care about them – even the ones who only appear for a few minutes. The plotting is strong, and the groundwork for the rest of the series is laid without being even remotely heavy on eye-rolly exposition. Plus the actors’ performances are all *CHEF’S KISS*  

[move2rabldcur]

i really wish they didn’t downplay hux’s intelligence and had him killed , like he’s a canon 9.5/10 in smarts , he would’ve known that not leaving with finn and poe would be a DEATH sentence , god the absolute missed chance of having the space nazi as a strategic hostage like... am i the only one? he’s your muse, what do you think about it?

Don’t call him a nazi then go on about him getting on the Falcon in the same ask it makes me feel dirty, call fascists what they are but don’t be uwu space nazi, alright man?

I made this blog with no plans for a redemption arc like he blew the Hosnian system that’s a lot of people died and scattered across the Galaxy without a place to call home, Hosnian is nothing more than asteroid belt now. I don’t think that’ll ever be something that’s just forgiven easily so if he were to get on the Falcon with rest of our intrepid heroes that would be a start redemption arc I’m not 100% sure I want to see, he’s a good villain and him maybe slipping more into the role of chaotic neutral where it’s just “I don’t care about the villains, I don’t care for the heroes, I’m here for me.” so he’s not really on anybody’s side but his own I feel like it’s a good middle ground.

Yeah, he would have been great to give strategies or to improve qualities of ships and weaponry, he could have been the one to explain The Sith fleet since they’re now utilizing the technology he came up with for Starkiller base so he’d know it fairly well and give us actual explanations but that movie had no explanations what-so-ever due to it being a clutter mess, therefore he would be an anomaly, also wayyy too many characters someone they had to kill someone off to introduce another. I mean the lie he gave to Pryde wasn’t too bad but it could have been better, I just don’t think he’d get on the Falcon willingly he was born into the empire it’s his way of life, a dogshit way of life, but a way of life nonetheless, he’s fine with betraying Ren but to actually runaway from the Order that would be a little much for him, I mean there was a chance of him maintaining control and power and he took it and died for hubris.

I know I said Armitage would not be forgiven but guess what that’s not a necessarily an ingredient for redemption, it helps, sure but the definition of redemption is; the action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil. Guess what he’s living with his mistakes now babbyyyy 

For big war crimes, come big long roads to redemption and here how I would do it personally. 

A good redemption arc for Hux would be him learning better and doing better, again 9.5 intelligence, none of this “I fell in love so I’m chill now” (in general thing not dunking on Ren) or death =  redemption that movies love to do. Here are the questions I have asked myself, what would make this a good arc:

1 (Where should this arc start?

2 (What would he have to learn?

3 (How much he’d have to change?

1 (Where should this arc start?: I know I already said he’d not get on the Falcon willingly but getting on the Falcon is the best place to start, maybe Finn or Poe rolled higher than a 2 on their persuasion check, maybe they took him as a hostage to make sure they won’t be shot down (bad plan tbh everyone is treated as expendable in the first order) maybe Finn recalls something about how Hux grew up in the unknown regions so they take him for information purposes (I keep seeing people say they are gonna tortured for info but the Resistance is not the Empire and that’s a war crime they would never; Hux is the kind of guy you just have to annoy enough and he’ll cave like chill out.)  Either way, get him on that ship. Him being on the Falcon forces him into a spot where his survival relies on our heroes survival, so his reasoning to help is selfish which would be in character. 

I agree with what was said about him in the back of that one comic, he’s not justified in any way but he is a product of his environment and he needs to get away from there to have a chance at change.

I don’t think Hux would get along with Chewie, but seeing him playing a game of dejarik with him would be great. I think it’ll take some time for him and BB8 to get along with one another; I see BB8 rolling over his feet constantly. C3p0 and Hux would agree on a lot of things since Poe and Finn keep wanting to do bad ideas and both of them would be stressed the fuck out. D-O abused droid meets abused man, love it. 

2 (What would he have to learn?: For starters to embrace individuality. The First Order is so divided of individuality on purpose, they strip you of all singularity and make you earn it through rank, sure he didn’t have it as bad most of the troops because he was Brendol’s son and most the troops viewed him as spoiled (Archex) despite him being abused, maybe they didn’t know, maybe these kids were just used to violence that they don’t know better and that it is wrong to treat your child the way Brendol did, most of these troops were taken away when they were babies so they have no sense of family. Individuality is something Hux learned to fear and to learned to suppress, I don’t think there is an off-work Armitage I think there’s only General Hux which is why he’s an obsessive workaholic with sleep issues; The Order doesn’t need or want him to be a person they need him to lead and inspire their army. We can show his progress with interactions Finn, Hux just keeps calling him Fn-2187, Finn get rightfully upset with him and have that conflict there until around the end of the movie and Hux actually start using his name. If you want this to be a Gingerpliot ship fic you could have Poe help him explore elements of himself like things he likes, how to relax, or his sexuality. Hux being a 34/35 virgin, guess what, not much experimentation happening there, and Poe the space himbo is the right man for every man and woman, he’s bi in my mind.

Something else he has to learn is how to form non-professional relationships, you know how to have casual friends and how to interact with others in a non-military way and to learn to trust other people. He needs to learn how to be a person so bad I can’t stress this enough.

The last thing is learning the Empire is wrong about the Republic and the galaxy isn’t the way they say it is, he was raised on stories of great heroes Imperials and how the Empire saved the galaxy from the chaos of the Clone Wars which sounds like revised history and we should call them on it. He need to know that not everyone in the galaxy is as cruel as the Order and people will do things for others for nothing in return, the Resistance would be a good place for that, however, his mother died during the New Republic’s siege on his homeworld Arkanis (really sore topic for him), well mmh, that’s what the popular head canon is and I dig it cause us an explanation why he hates the Republic and by extension the Resistance so much to have him to learn to separate the two would do him some good. 

3 (How much he’d have to change?: He would have to change a lot and it will be for the better, of course, for him to join the Resistance he’d have to relinquish his rank as general and to give up on power, like he doesn’t need so much of it anymore, his life no longer depends on his usefulness and nobody is out waiting for him to fail as well, to have that change in foundation where he can start again and slowly gain trust would be where we see the most change, of course it wouldn’t happen until he learns to care for others, chill on the murder, and give up on his Imperial ideals. His new rank within the Resistance should be an intelligence officer and engineer that’d the perfect rule for Hux. 100% he should live with his actions and learn thats not okay and do better, he may never be forgiven for his actions against the Hosnian system, but it’s about trying, successes is a big bonus he may never have.

Im going to stop here cuz my hands really hurt but I hope you’re satisfied don’t be scared to ask questions.

[marshmallow-phd]

Secret in His Eyes

Spinoff of Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: A vacation exploring China’s famous city was supposed to be relaxing. When you witness a horrifying murder, you instead find yourself in police custody, unable to run. Trying to stay alive, you meet Luhan, and you believe you can trust him. You never imagined that he might be the one you should be running from.

Part: Prologue I 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I Final

**

This city was beautiful. The touristy parts, anyway. You were sure that – like every other city in the world – Beijing had its ugly scars, too. But you stayed in the areas that all the brochures and websites bragged about, saving you from having to see those not-so-shiny places.

You’d been saving up for this trip for the past year and a half. All your life you wanted to experience just one place new. Then you’d be perfectly content going back to your ordinary life with your office job. Or maybe this trip would just make you eager for the next one. It was kind of a toss up at this point in your youth. But you wouldn’t worry about whether or not you could be content with your boring routine until you were back home. For now, you’d continue exploring, taking in the beautiful, ancient architecture that was so unique to the region, visiting the art and history museums to learn more about what you were seeing, and trying all the street food you could get your hands on. Your main focus was to take in all that you could and not forget a single moment.

When you’d first arrived in Beijing, a nauseated feeling had bubbled up in your stomach. You were in foreign territory, completely on your own, with very little knowledge on how to navigate this roaring city. The feeling refused to die down as you checked into your hotel and searched the maps you’d been given by the front desk worker for something to eat. Even with as exhausted as you were from traveling, sleep didn’t come easy. By some miracle, however, you woke up the next morning much more at ease with your surroundings. Still nervous about getting lost or accidentally offending someone, but it wasn’t as threatening a feeling as it had been before. Going throughout your day, you nearly forgot all about your worries, too absorbed in your findings to pay attention to it.

By day three, you were practically a local. It was so magical, each new finding, that you couldn’t believe this was truly your reality, like soon you’d wake up to find it was all a dream.

“Oh, back again?”

You blushed as you bobbed your head in greeting. There was one vendor in the market place near your hotel that you kept coming back to. A mother and daughter team sold the most delicious baozi you’d ever tasted. Granted, your experience was limited to a few blocks, but it was a common street food and none compared to this dynamic duo’s. While the mother didn’t speak English, you were able to communicate with the daughter well enough.

“It’s my favorite treat,” you admitted shyly. The daughter waived you closer before pulling out two steaming, fresh buns, wrapping them carefully before holding them out to you. When you started to pull out your wallet, she shook her head. “No. These are just for you. Since you like them so much.”

You pursed your lips. “That doesn’t feel right.”

“You’ve been a loyal customer,” she laughed. “It’s the least we could do! However,” she rounded the cart, coming up close to you as she lowered her voice, “tonight is the Shangyuan Festival. My mother will be staying in, but if you would like to join me to make her happy that I won’t be alone, we’ll consider that payment.”

It still didn’t seem fair, but you laughed anyway. “Yes, of course!” You’d noticed the streets being decorated with paper lanterns since your arrival – some were the traditional round red ones you were used to, but others were shaped like flowers and animals, beautifully crafted and painted, making you stare in awe. “It’d be nice to have someone show me the festival.”

“Good! It’s settled then. We will close before the sun sets, so meet me here then. We’ll walk my mother home and then I will show you the festival!”

You nodded eagerly. Before parting so you could hurry to your other planned activities for the afternoon, you finally learned the daughter’s name: Shishi. It was cute and not something you’d really heard before.

The afternoon hours seemed to fly by and before you knew it, the sun was beginning to disappear from the sky. As quickly as you could, you ran back to the stall, careful not to ram anyone down in the process. Shishi was still waiting for you patiently, her mother shaking her head at you in a scolding manner.

“I’m so sorry,” you huffed, half doubled over from your exhausting sprint.

“It’s okay,” Shishi laughed at you. “Let’s get Mother home and then we’ll attend the festival.”

You nodded and stepped back for her to lead the way. Their home wasn’t too far from the stall and once Shishi saw her mother inside, the two of you took off towards another district in the city where a big crowd had gathered near the Chaobai River.

Lanterns of all shapes and sizes hung from nearly ever ledge. Children ran around the streets while carrying sticks that held small paper fish on the ends of strings, making it looking like schools of fish were swimming through the air. Different sweet scents drifted up to your nose, making your mouth water.

Perhaps seeing that ravenous look in your eye, Shishi pulled you over to one of the vendors, getting each of you one of those sugar coated sweets made by the true experts of the trade. The artists didn’t have fancy, expensive culinary schooling; they simply had tradition and a love for the for food.

You continued to walk along the street in order to take in all the sights happening around you. This was the reason you’d come to the beautiful city of Beijing. The joy and laughter around you was infectious and you felt as if you were on the receiving end of a precious gift. All the pictures and blogs in the world couldn’t truly capture the feeling, the essence of the festival and the deep rooted traditions happening before your very eyes. No matter what happened to you on this trip, you knew tonight would be something that you would never forget.

**

Luhan leaned back in his chair and waited rather impatiently for the underling to arrive. It was ten minutes past the time he was told to be here and Luhan was losing his patience.

For the past month, he’d had a man inside the main police department of Beijing and he needed his updates. Lately, the cops had been one step ahead of him while conducting his deals, putting several of his suppliers behind bars and ruining his business. His own customers were getting antsy, hence why he needed the information to squash the rat.

Leaning up against the wall to his right, Kris chewed on a toothpick between his teeth. “I thought he was supposed to be here by now.”

“Unfortunately, Xiaofei isn’t known for his punctuality,” Luhan huffed. He picked up the glass ball he kept on his desk and inspected it, although there was nothing wrong with the small paperweight. In the low lighting of his office, he could only make out a faint shadow on the smooth glass rather than his reflection. The small globe was almost completely see-through except for the etched continents covering the surface. While he couldn’t quite say that he held the world in his hands, the little globe gave him a sense of accomplishment, even when things went a little askew.

“I still think we should have sent someone else,” Tao whined from the couch. He was staring up at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head for a pillow as he reclined on his back. His suit jacket was draped across the back of the couch to save it from wrinkling.

Luhan rolled his eyes. He was tired of having this conversation over and over again. “Xiaofei already had connections within the office, I’ve told you that. Plus, he’d be able to blend better than most.”

There weren’t many people in the world Luhan could trust, the top two being in this room. Everyone who worked for him was under constant surveillance and he occasionally had to clean out the filth with little crumbs of fake information. It was how he survived all these years. The Chinese underworld was ruthless. He hardly had a moment where he wasn’t watching his back.

Just then, the door to the office creaked open. Tao sat up, eyeing the crack that wasn’t quite big enough to let a human through while Luhan placed the globe back down on the desk with a heavy thump. The vaguest outline of a shadow, visible against the white door frame, flinched at the sound. Luhan could practically smell the stench of fear radiating off of the underling from his seat.

Picking up his feet and placing them back down on the floor, Luhan growled, “Just come in before I lose my patience and shoot you through the door.”

That little threat did the trick. Xiaofei scurried inside the office, closing the door behind him with a sound that was halfway between a click and a slam. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as if he was trying to keep the contents of his stomach from spilling out onto the rug. The police uniform Xiaofei had been given was wrinkled and half untucked. Were his men really such slobs?

Clearing his throat, Xiaofei straightened up and then bowed at a ninety-degree angle. He was putting on a brave front, they all knew. And Luhan would let him play his little act.

“Sir, I have not been able to find the leak within the department as of yet.” The voice that left Xiaofei’s mouth didn’t match the round, burly face he was born with. It was of a higher pitch, not fit for his age. The face that Luhan imaged the voice belonging to was one of a rat, pointed and sharp, all the features focused in on the center. It was a face that fit Xiaofei’s character much more closely.

“Did you even really try?” Tao spat. His dark eyes were narrowed at the underling. He was not one to take kindly to a lack of results.

“Y-yes, sir,” Xiaofei bowed quickly to the silver-haired boss. “The department is very tight-lipped. They don’t take too kindly to new faces. It’ll take me another few months to get them to trust me.”

“We don’t have another few months,” Kris snarled, flicking the toothpick at the trembling man. The little piece of wood stuck to Xiaofei’s shoulder, but he made no attempt to brush it away, accepting the small but humiliating action.

Luhan let out a long sigh in order to make his displeasure known in a much more subtle manner. “Xiaofei.” The man flinched at the sound of his name even though Luhan didn’t raise his voice above a causal level. “Before I sent you in there, you swore to me that you had connections inside. Now, that wasn’t a lie, was it?”

“No, sir, I swear!” Xiaofei staggered on his feet as he tried to plead for his life. As soon as Luhan stood, the coward fell to his knees in a showy sign of respect. “My connections are good. It’ll just take a little more time. Please. I will find the leak. I swear it.”

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, Luhan bent down and stared Xiaofei down. “You have one month left. I suggest you bring me back something viable at the end of that time frame. If you don’t, then you’ll be replaced.” Letting him go with a forceful shove, Luhan headed for the door. He only paused long enough to give one last warning. “I like to think of this organization as a well-oiled, well-maintenanced machine. The only way to keep it working is to upgrade the parts that have become useless. And there’s only one thing to do with useless parts, isn’t there?”

Though Xiaofei didn’t look back at Luhan, the shiver that ran down his spine and shook his shoulders was visible enough proof that the message had been received. With confident steps, Luhan glided down the hall of the mansion he called home. Soon, he would find out who was undermining his operations and he would make sure they regretted ever going up against The Deer before he ended their life for good.

**

Your feet were aching and throbbing, but you still weren’t ready to go home for the night. Stuffed full of delicious street food made only during this special time, you continued to follow Shishi through the crowds, stopping every once in a while to watch a choreographed dance by a group of performers ora magic show put on by a man you suspected might be tricking the audience in more ways than one.

The stars above were beginning to come alive for the night, adding to the mystical atmosphere. Only the strongest were able to be made out against the fading backdrop thanks to the stronger lights of the city. It made you a little sad, not being able to see a sky full of twinkling stars, but you pushed that emotion away, preferring to focus on the happier commotion around you.

However, when you brought your eyes back to the festival, Shishi was gone. You whirled around several times, but you couldn’t find her. Over and over, you called out, but no reply was ever sent back your way. Frantically, you shoved through the crowd. Had something happened to her? Or had you simply been separated? It was your own fault for dawdling and not paying attention. Panic was starting to set in. Until you saw a familiar bun of black hair resting on top of a head that was about Shishi’s height.

You followed the bun through the crowd until the owner disappeared into an alleyway. She took a few more twists and turns before you finally caught up to her, grabbing her shoulder in relief.

“Shishi!”

When she turned around, however, you were frustrated to find that it wasn’t your friend, but a stranger you’d never seen before. She threw you a snarled look even as you bowed out an apology over and over again. Soon you were alone again and utterly lost. The only light to see by came from the more occupied main streets, but you weren’t sure which one you should head towards to try and find your way back. Every direction looked the same. You cursed yourself for not paying more attention the further you got from the main street.  

Crash!

You jumped back against the brick wall, collapsing down to hide in the shadow of a dumpster when you saw a man fall to the cracking asphalt, his head bouncing off the ground as he landed hard on his back. Even in the dim light, you could make out a stream of blood running down from his nose and over his lips before dripping off his chin. When another man stepped into your line of vision, you shrank farther back, practically melding with the grime-covered trash bin.

The man who was still standing pulled out a gun and pointed it down at the one on the ground. As if knowing that his end was near, the first man simply groaned and turned his face upwards towards the sky. The man with the gun chuckled and began speaking in Mandarin. You couldn’t understand a majority of the words leaving his mouth, but one word did stick out to you: Lu. He repeated it a few times, mixed around in sentences that you couldn’t make out.

Then he shot the man on the ground, the bullet slicing through his forehead.

You couldn’t stop the gasp that your shock and horror forced out. Immediately, you slapped a hand over your mouth, praying that he hadn’t heard you. Seeing that there was just enough space between the wall and the dumpster, you scrambled to better hide yourself, hoping that you weren’t simply jumping into the barrel for an easier target.

Footsteps slowly headed in your direction, crackling the loose pebbles under his shoes with each step. You squeezed your eyes shut and sent up a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening. And apparently, someone was.

Sirens blared from a street close by. You barely caught the man disappearing around the corner when you risked opening your eyes. Slowly, you crawled out from behind the dumpster. Your hand landed warm and sticky, making you jump back with a scream when you realized it was blood pooling out from the dead man’s head.

Two new voices shouted and you threw your hands up to show you were unarmed. A bright light made you squint and you couldn’t tell who was approaching you, but you hoped it was the police. The light finally lowered. You let out a sigh of relief. The two officers lowered their guns and exchanged dumbfounded looks.

You had no idea what kind of mess you’d stumbled into.

[weeping-petals]

Couldn’t See the Trees

Word Count - 2,855

A change occurred over the next week.

 Someone was in the house when he came home or left, or when he went to bed or got up in the morning. That wasn’t incredibly different from any other day, except never at one point was the house empty. Usually, Garnet, Amethyst, or Pearl would stow away in their respective rooms collectively, when they were ‘off duty’ as Steven sometimes thought of it. While before, Steven had the house all to himself, and sometimes it was lonely; the days following the encounter with the strange forest gem, someone was always present. Company was abundant, and still, Steven felt alone despite this.

 “Have you read the books I assigned you?” Pearl asked, as she tidied. She wasn’t the most common present but she hid her attendance well at first, by over cleaning the house.

 “Yep.” Steven was writing out some notes. It was easier to get through gemglyph if he did some note taking, otherwise, he’d go nuts with all the repetition revolving with the intricate symbols. He still wasn’t much good at it.

 Another day, Garnet was sitting on the couch. Not doing anything, not watching television, just sitting there. That’s when Steven began putting the pieces together. Garnet wasn’t subtle, or didn’t care that he could tell she was watching the warp pad.

 “Pearl and Amethyst are scouting for Spinel’s whereabouts,” she spoke, while Steven stood on the stairs observing. He nearly fell. “She’s too dangerous to confront directly, without the full team.”

 “Are you waiting for them?” Steven stepped down to the couch, and climbed up to join Garnet.

 “No. I’m just waiting.” A pause followed. “I have a feeling she’ll stay in the forest.”

 “Why do you think that?”

 Garnet hummed. “She feels safe there. Her abilities and skill are optimized, and she knows the area well.”

 “She’s scared too,” Steven presumed.

 “That’s obvious.”

 “Maybe more of you, than you are of her,” he suggested, with a mild smile. Garnet remained silent and stoic. “We could just leave her a—”

 “No.”

 The warp pad gleamed, and off stepped Pearl and Amethyst. Promptly, Amethyst dropped to her face, while Pearl staggered away. Garnet remained seated on the couch, but Steven sprang off and ran to the smaller gem.

 “Amethyst! Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” He grabbed Amethyst by the shoulder and shook.

 “Naawwwww,” Amethyst groaned, muffled. “So boring! I hate that forest! Even if we find her, we can’t have our rematch!”

 “There’s so much terrain to cover,” Pearl carried on. She still held a spear, and leaned on it. “We can only go so far, the trees are towering, and we don’t have an efficient means of scouring the distance.”

 It was a shame they couldn’t use Spinel to look for Spinel. That would make it so much easier. But if they had Spinel as a friend, then they wouldn’t need to search for her. None of this was said aloud.

 “Take a break, then.” Garnet stood and crossed to the group. “Perhaps some quiet will bring her guard down.”

 “Yay.” Amethyst stood and relocated to the kitchen, where she began poking through cabinets. “Seriously, how can we be out of condiments?”

 “There’s some blue cheese ranch in the fridge,” Steven called. Pearl grimaced.

 “Awesome!”

 “What if we… forgot about her? Forever?” Steven posed. “There are other places to explore, and what about my training?”

 “We’re working on where our next task should be,” Pearl admitted. The spear blipped out, and she adjusted her ribbon. “We’ll take you for another session at the arena, and decide where to go from there. I do agree, this delays your progress.”

 “You understand now why we can’t let her alone,” Garnet expanded on. “It’s not likely, but there exists a probability that we may encounter her at some other gemsite. She knows every location we’ve have access to, and surprising her would jeopardize future missions.”

 “Which is why someone is always guarding this warp pad.”

 Deadpanned, Garnet muttered, “Don’t scare him.” Pearl stuttered, trying to recover and cover up simultaneously. Steven frowned, it was pretty obvious, though they assumed they were being crafty.

 Amethyst hooted. “Nice going. You really know how to keep a secret!”

 Pearl blushed. “Oh, don’t worry Steven. I’m sure she wouldn’t recognize the place if she came through.”

 “Was it that big of a secret?” Steven inquired, a little mystified. Amethyst choked on the blue cheese ranch.

 The days carried on, someone stayed in the house while the others retired to their individual rooms. Steven didn’t mind the refreshed exercises and new locations, likely inspired by his abduction. Using the shield was still iffy, if ever the darn thing would cooperate. It was likewise irritating going off and having to leave someone behind, the team was always incomplete and imbalanced. As of yet, no news about the forest or Spinel’s whereabouts; at least, nothing Steven was made aware of.

 One evening, Amethyst’s dry snores kept Steven awake. The days activities him Steven out and thus he retired early, but didn’t doze long before Amethyst followed his example and dove into dreamland. Now he was awake and couldn’t conclude his night. On the couch, the only gem that appreciated sleeping, fell asleep while stationed to watch.

 Steven turned on his night table lamp, and peered down. His eyes roved from Amethyst, to the inactive warp pad glittering under the moons envious stare. Garnet’s words stayed with him, as did the forest and all its beauty. That place was massive, and he hardly saw any of it.

 After some debate, he came to a decision. Steven got out of bed and went to his drawers. The hamburger backpack came out, and he stuffed it with some supplies. Just in case. He crept down the steps, and went to the kitchen, carefully going through cabinets. Once he couldn’t cram anything more into his pack, he tiptoed across the floor, edging up to the warp pad. He shifted his eyes from the couch and Amethyst, then to the door of the Crystal Temple. This was the most suspenseful moment in his life, and with every breath he took, he expected someone to come through the doorway. Though, no one – except maybe Pearl – came out following his bedtime hours. He was still on edge.

 Steven hesitated, thumbing the flashlight in his hand. At once, the light engulfed him and he zipped through the beam..

 In a cascade of light, the Chalcedony Forest sprouted around the crooked warp pad. Steven hopped off, clicked on his flashlight and began walking. This time, he was dressed warmly and snug in his hoodie. Above, the sky was rose swept colors and deep purples, but the forest lay in dense shadows. As before, the region was bizarre and unknown. Intimidating in its endless expanse, which promised unending wandering to those who became mislid within.  

 It would work best to walk in a straight line, in no way could he get lost. No matter what, he wouldn’t avert his direction. With that in mind, he set off.

 And walked for the next thirty minutes. “Spinel!” he called, hand cupped beside his mouth. “Hello! Spinel? Are you there?” He slipped the flashlight beam across the trees and through the deep weaves among the shrubbery. Crystal spires glistened as he aimed the light at them, fallen chunks of chalcedony blazed like ice sculptures as the light dazzled through their surface. Yet, nothing came of the search. No wonder Amethyst was going bonkers.

 Above, in a clump of leaves he thought there was a set of eyes. The light revealed—

 A glittering moth. It flew away, its wings flashing as it swept through the stream of light. “Cool. Oh, sorry! I was looking for someone else.” He continued, still calling, and receiving no answer.

 Every shadow or flicker that shifted in the gloom, startled Steven. Why was he afraid? There was nothing to be frightened of, no monsters or eerie beast. He was only nervous, but he didn’t need to feel that way.

 “Did ya leave?” he hollered. If he kept on, he might stumble across the temple. Did the Crystal Gems search the temple, or was that too obvious? “If you’re there, you can give me a sign! I won’t tell the others! It can be a secret sign.”

 Low to the ground in a murky patch of shrubs, a slit eye creaked open and peered after Steven. The spooky sensation ran up Steven’s neck, but when he looked back, nothing was visible. He shrugged and continued.

 “I’m here on my own! They don’t know,” Steven tried. “I snuck out. I shouldn’t have done that, but I wanted to see if you were still here. It looks like you—”

 “AREN’T—!”

 A set of arms extended from above and gripped Steven by the shoulders. Steven eeped, as he was drawn upward several feet.

 “Shh!” Spinel stretched down by her legs, her torso twisting over as she faced the youth. “You should watch where you’re going.”

 Steven stifled the scream in his throat. “Put me down! This is too high!”

 “Nah-uh. The floors lava.” One hand gripped Steven by the collar, while the other stole the flashlight. Steven protested, until he spied where the beam cast down. A steep slope, hidden by glittering roots. “Or a bottomless void. Your pick.”

 Steven was on the verge of a thank you, when an arm looped around his middle. The gem recalled her body into its usual shape, and she slinked down to the ground. In the pool of shadows, Steven’s feet connected with stable soil, and he promptly lost his footing and dropped backwards. Spinel towered over him, arching her limbs and peered onto the lad with an accusatory eye. The flashlight held beneath her chin, accented the hard lines bent under her constricted pupils.

 “Didnit I tell you to stay out of my forest?”

 “Uh, you might’ve mentioned that?” he stammered, a smidgen intimidated. “But I might’ve forgotten.”

 “Where are they?” Spinel recoiled and snapped her head around, scanning the perimeter. “You couldn’t have snuck out that easily.”

 “You’d be surprised.” He winced when the light was aimed at him. It was very bright. Spinel took interest in it, turning the device over in her hands, the light sputtered and flashed. Before it cut off entirely. A loud crack emitted, and Steve presumed his flashlight would shine no longer. This was a bad idea. He should’ve listened.

 “I’m sorry. I wanted to see you, I didn’t think it’d hurt anything!” Silence. He could make out the silhouette, the pigtails, and her eyes narrowing.

 “You wanted… to see. Me?”

 “Yeah—”

 “Why!”

 Steven scooted back. “Why… not?” A long and painful stall followed. He wished the light was still on, or the sun would rise.

 “That’s not good enough! Why would you come here? I want a reason! You have something to gain if you decided to come out here! What do you want?!”

 Steven retreated further, until his back hit a rock or root, or something. “Don’t be upset! I didn’t know you were against visitors! I thought— I thought, you,” Steven continued to fumble with words and get a sentence put together, “You were lonely!” Spinel bristled. Wrong thing to say.

 “I DON’T get—” She cut off, and a giggle trilled through. The shadow manifest slacked and unwound, by a margin.   “I see, that makes sense. You don’t know.”

 Steven shivered. “I—”

 “If your other friends see you gone, they’ll make a connection,” Spinel murmured. “It doesn’t matter why you came here. I’m the bad guy. See how that works? It’s funny, when you think about it.” The laugh didn’t sound amused.

 Uh…. Oh. Oh!

 “But, what if we talked to them?” Steven raised a hand to his eyes, when Spinel lit up her gem. “You can come back to the temple with me, and we’ll show them you’re okay.” Spinel raised a brow. It was neat the way her hairline was a part of her brow, or whatever. “What about that? You wanna see what they’ve done… I mean, what my dad did to the temple?”

 Spinel crouched down, and gave a crooked grin. “What did Greg do to the temple, now?”

 There was a house now, where Steven lived. Greg built it. So now, the Crystal Temple was a big home for everyone.

 “Do you have a room there?”

 “The coolest room,” Spinel boasted.

 The sun came out enough and made the trail clear. Despite that, she carried Steven atop her shoulders.

 “Who started the fight? At the Chaldony Temple?”

 “Chalcedony,” Spinel corrected. “That’s not the actual name, but I like it.”

 “What was the name supposed to be?” Steven leaned between the pigtails, trying in vain to see Spinel’s face.

 “Dunno. Unnamed Temple. Big Tree Crystal Temple? Who came up with Chalcedony? That’s the terraforming sub-stuff used ‘round here.”

 “Pearl.”

 Spinel cackled. “She likes to name things. If she doesn’t know what something is, she’s gotta name it! Good thing she didn’t name you.”

 “Hmm? Who named me?”

 Spinel shrugged. “Greg? Rose was… not great with names. Either.”

 “You didn’t answer my question. Who started the fight?”

 “Oh look!” Spinel took three long steps, and cleared the remaining few feet to the warp pad. “You can get off now and leave me to my exile.”

 “No! Not until you answer me!” Steven tightened his grip. Even when Spinel reached up and tugged at his sides, he held tight.

 “Leggo.”

 “Nope.”

 “I’ll go up into the trees,” she threatened, extending her arms.

 “More reason to batten down the hatches,” Steven grumbled. He tightened his eyes shut and reinforced his hold on Spinel’s pigtails. He would not be intimidated this time, and prepared fully for the worst.

 “By chance ol’sport, are ye still ticklish?”

 Steven didn’t get a chance to reply, Spinel jabbed at his sides and got him where he was most vulnerable. “No! NO! Unfair!” he squealed, unable to hold on any longer. “Foul! That’s a foul!”

 Spinel pried him loose with no effort and set Steven down. “You need to go back to the temple.” Steven wouldn’t release her hand.

 “C’mon. You didn’t stop being friends, did you?” Spinel gave him a look, and turned her eyes away. “Did you start the fight? Just tell me, I won’t be mad.”

 “I didn’t… end it, either.” Spinel slung her free arm behind her back. For a long time she was quiet, staring off into the thicket. Something more was on her mind. “I don’t want to see them, yet. I want nothin’ to do with them. This is best.”

 “If I’m there, I won’t let them hurt you, or bubble you!” he proclaimed. “Sometimes my shield doesn’t work like I want it to, but when I really-really need it, it does. Er, usually when I don’t expect it.”

 “How practical,” Spinel sighed. “That’s sweet. You really are just the cootest.”

 “I promise,” Steven insisted, tugging her arm. “I’m sure we can make them list—”

 “It doesn’t matter what you do or say,” Spinel grated, but softly. “It changes nothing. Nothing… changes. I don’t… it’s hard to explain. I don’t want to be around them.” She put her other hand on Steven, and pried him off her arm. She staggered back, glaring at the warp pad. “I don’t want to be around that.”

 “What’s wrong?” Steven followed her line of sight, at a loss. “What if we went somewhere else? We can go any—”

 “NO!” Spinel regained her composure, somewhat. “No. I’m staying here.” She backed away. “I like this place.”

 Steven stepped after her. “But, you’re all alone. There’s no—”

 “It’s fine. This is what I want!” Spinel grimaced and clenched her fists. “Just… go. If you come back, I won’t help you out of my forest.” With that last declaration, she tossed her arm into the trees and swung off.

 “Wait! Spinel!” Steven tried to follow, weaving among the shrubs and trying with all his might to catch up. Within moments, however, the lanky gem vanished entirely and he was again alone. For a bit longer Steven tried in vain to give chase, but he also didn’t want to get lost. Reluctantly, he returned to the warp pad, mood down and one less flashlight. The glossy pad remained inactive, no one came searching for him, or, if they were looking for him, they thought he ventured elsewhere.

 The whole endeavor came to nothing, and despite getting the chance to talk with Spinel for a bit, Steven felt like a failure. If only he could get the Crystal Gems and her to interact, without the fighting, the bitter feelings might slip away. Staying in the forest all alone wasn’t good for her, even if it was an upgrade from a bubble or whatever. It was apparent more of the picture lay scattered about, but if he located a few key pieces it might be enough to give him the insight he needed.

 But first, he was going home and finished up the night.

[shanix-the-stars]

Worshipers of the Old

Kylo Ren x OC / Kylo Ren x Reader

Read on AO3

Summary:  He arrived at the archive during the late hours of the  night, searching for answers regarding a long lost Force ability. When  AR-210 is assigned to help him, she would never have anticipated the  strange and terrifying series of events that were to follow... and what  it all meant for her.

*Written in first person; main character has feminine qualities, but doesn’t have any defining characteristics.

Chapter 1: A Healing World

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,018

A/N: hello! thank you for taking the time to read my story! this is  the first star wars fic i’ve written, so i hope it’s good enough for  this wonderful, amazing community.

this story does not follow the  movies’ timeline and is heavily based on lore and Legends material. i  put my own twist on things so it’s not important to read/look at any  background info on any of it. however, if you want to read more, i  suggest visiting Wookieepedia (also a great source for inspiration).

please enjoy!

『ID: AR-210

Passcode: ******

Keyword: Lower Level Overview Report』

I press the enter key on my datapad before setting it down on my desk, letting the entry load as I run out to the main lobby. Thirty minutes remain, and we aren’t even ready. Dozens of faculty members and students are rushing back and forth, each carrying some sort of device or package in their hands. I make a beeline for the Director’s office, but a voice calls out behind me before I can rush inside.

“Ahré!”

I whip my head around, seeing the Director himself running in my direction. His graying hair is a mess, and I can tell that his wrinkles are, well, even more wrinkly than before. I can practically feel the stress radiating off of him once he stops in front of me. “D-Director Malobry, I was just about to-“

“Reassure me that all the holobooks on the fifth floor in the east wing are all finally organized and shelved?” He storms past me and slams his office door open. I quickly follow. “It’s hell out there, and if that damn General sees that we’re behind schedule for the third consecutive month, he’ll have my head on a platter.”

“I-I’m sure that won’t be the case, Director-“

He holds a hand up. “Ahré, please.” He takes a breath, clearly trying to calm himself down. He lowers his voice. “Is the east wing done or not?”

I open my mouth but almost immediately clamp it shut. I don’t have any good news, and truth be told, none of those holobooks are shelved.

The Director waits for me to give him an answer, but after a moment, it seems like I don’t need to. Still, I hand my head and close my eyes, uttering a soft "no" under my breath.

There’s a pause. He collapses back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

Guilt forms in the pit of my stomach. The fear of witnessing the General’s wrath invades my mind, but perhaps the Director’s anger might be more concerning for the moment. I wasn’t even the archivist assigned to that wing, but I know who was: Jolson. The thought of him being reprimanded—or worse—for the third time this month... I can feel my head swim with fear.

“Go help Jolson with that floor,” the Director says quietly. He’s already accepted his fate. “Make sure you get every droid working on those shelves. We might still have a chance.”

I’m surprised, but I make a point not to show it. I bow my head and exit the office, merging with the traffic of people busying about. Several droids are attending to other minuscule chores in other rooms, so I call on them to go to the east wing before rounding up a few other archivists as well.

I glance at the time on one of the walls, but I don’t give myself the time to process the numbers. I immediately look away and make my way to the fifth floor.

Just focus, Ahré.

Once I arrive, there is a frenzy of excitement and eagerness flowing in the room as piles of holobooks and scrolls are being carried from one end to the other. Half of the staff inside is working on the main lower shelves, while the other is up on the mezzanine. It’s a slightly relieving sight, but I try not to let that get my hopes up. The majority of the shelves are still empty.

“Ahré! Over here!”

I turn to see Jolson on the other side of the room, wearing a fresh new uniform and a pair of shoes. His usually messy black hair swept up into a bun, and I can tell he put a little more effort into today’s occasion. Still, he looks a little tired. I watch him jog over with a stack of new flimsiplast, a big smile painted on his face. I do my best to return it with a disapproving frown.

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“We have less than half an hour until the General arrives. He’s already at Aurora looking at things over there. And the Director knows about your...” I gesture to the entirety of the room. “...lack of shelving.”

“Malobry can go die in the pits of Kaon for all I care,” he huffs, walking toward one of the supply shelves. “Hope to the Force one of the scranges get to him before anything else does.”

I trail behind him, suppressing an eye roll. “I know the both of you don’t... get along. But can you please, at least for today, keep your head on your shoulders? If the General sees one thing out of place, what’s to stop him from getting rid of Malobry?”

“Come on, Ahré. You know as well as I do Hux doesn’t have anyone else to look over these libraries. Not after all that’s happened.” He sets the packets of flimsiplast down on the floor before pulling out his datapad. “Besides, the Supreme Leader personally appointed Malobry. I doubt the General would want to oppose him.”

He does have a point... but there’s been talk about infighting among the First Order, especially between the both of them. After Kylo Ren got rid of the former Supreme Leader, things have become rather tense. There seems to be a stricter hold on First Order regions and institutions; not to mention the seemingly never-ending war with the Resistance. However, that only meant escape from the Yuuzhan Vong for Obroa-skai, so I can only complain so much.

Jolson snaps his fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to attention. “Obroa-skai to Ahré, helloooo?”

I swat his hand away. “Sorry, just... thinking,” I say dumbly.

He chuckles. “Sure. Now, stop worrying and help me with sections eight, nine, and ten, okay? We’ll get it done.” He looks down at me, his big blue eyes full of reassurance. A sincere smile graces his lips. He knows how to calm me down, and as much as I hate it, it works. Although he tends to lag behind most faculty and staff, he can always be counted on to do one thing: be a friend.

I guess that’s all I can really ask from him.

~

The General arrives at the archives precisely on time. He is accompanied by a few other officers with identical uniforms, some of whom seem to care less about the visit. At the entrance remain at least a dozen stormtroopers with blasters gripped in their hands, while a couple of others follow behind the group of men.

Odd.

All of our staff members are lined across the lobby, everyone standing in attention as General Hux and his entourage make their way up to the Director and I. He surveys the lines, eyeing each and every one of us with a scrutinizing glare. I have to stop myself from squirming in my spot and pray to the beings above I look presentable enough. I can already feel a chill running down my spine.

“Very well,” he finally says. He turns to Malobry. “I trust that work on Celebratus has ceased, Director.”

He nods. “Yes, General. We have been working tirelessly on the facility. The east and west wings are complete, as well as the lower levels.”

There’s a hum of approval. “Excellent. The Medical Director at Aurora has reported that there haven’t been any border attacks there as of late, so I believe the situation to be corresponding with this sector?”

“That would be correct,” Malobry confirms. I glance up at him, seeing a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead and neck. Poor guy.

General Hux turns back to the staff, giving them a final once-over before nodding. “You are all dismissed.”

They bow their heads quickly and head out in different directions of the archive. I catch a glimpse of Jolson, seeing him send me a playful wink my way. Warmth blooms in my chest at the small gesture.

“AR-210.”

I snap back into position. “Y-Yes, General?”

“The Supreme Leader is planning a visit later today. Seeing as you are the head clerk for the archive, I believe you could aid him with something he needs.”

My brows furrow together. Need? What in the galaxy would the leader of the First Order possibly need from here?

I manage a semi-nod, but it feels more like a confused tilt of the head instead. I’m sure I look oblivious, but I can’t help but feel like I am. Perhaps I’m missing something. “Of course. May I ask what he is looking for?”

The General scoffs. “He wouldn’t tell me,” he says, a hint of irritation laced in his words. “But I doubt it’s of much importance. Our own records and archives weren’t sufficient enough for his... research projects. He insisted on coming to Obroa-skai.”

My head is swimming with a thousand questions, none of them actually verbalized. Instead, I relax my features and bow my head. “I’d be happy to help, General.”

“Good. Now, Director, if you could show us around the facility, we will be on our way soon.”

I’ve never seen Malobry move faster. “Yes, yes, of course. Please, gentlemen, if you could follow me...”

Within ten seconds, they round a corner and disappear from view. I’m left standing in the lobby with the feeling of nothing but dread in the pit of my stomach. Now I’m the one sweating. There isn’t even a hint of comfort anywhere nearby, just a receptionist desk on the other side of the room. Stormtroopers still stand outside the entrance, perfectly still and ready at a moment’s notice. I decide to step away into my own office and wait there instead. It doesn’t help.

I grab my datapad and scroll through the entry I loaded up earlier. The words are a blur on the screen as I try to read, but it’s useless. Fear grips at my mind. Something about this doesn’t feel right. The Supreme Leader... in need of help with information he can’t already acquire? I sigh and sit down at my desk, letting my thoughts drown in stress.

~

Hours pass and no Kylo Ren. The General has already left, as well as half the stormtroopers that had initially arrived. The remaining still stand outside. My nerves have somewhat calmed down, but what remains is worry. Perhaps, to someone above, this may just be some sort of punishment for me. For what reason, I do not know, nor do I think it matters at this point.

A knock at my door nearly sends my heart over the point of no return. I get up, composing myself as I make my way to open it. The anxiety kicks back in, and for a moment I begin to feel nauseous. This could be it—the defining moment of whether or not I get to live another day. Would one slip-up ensure my demise? Would he really go that far? What if I can’t find what he’s looking for? I force my thoughts aside and slide the door open, relieved to see that it’s only Jolson. His eyes widen once they meet mine. “Ahré? Are you alright?”

“Jolson.” I let out a shaky breath. “Thank the stars. And no, no, I’m not alright,” I reply blatantly. He waits on me to elaborate, his worry turning into confusion.

“Well... what’s going on?”

I peek out into the corridor to make sure nobody else is present before pulling him into my office. “Sit,” I command, gesturing to the chair in the corner. He obliges, but the concerned expression he wears doesn’t waver for a second.

I slam the door shut. “The Supreme Leader is coming to the archive later,” I begin, walking behind my desk. “Apparently he needs help finding something.”

“Okay,” Jolson starts, hesitant. “What does he need from here?”

“That’s just it. I asked the General the same question, but even he didn’t know.” I fall back into my chair. “I also don’t know when he’s coming. He could be walking through the front doors right now. Maybe he is, and I’m just back here panicking. He’s going to think I’m terrified of him, which I’m sure he already knows, but it’s just going to—“

“Ahré,” Jolson interrupts, tone firm and deep. I shut my mouth immediately. “Why are you worrying so much? You shouldn’t be.”

I huff. “Why not? It’s the Supreme Leader-“

“Who is coming here specifically for help, Ahré.”

I pause, taken aback. He’s coming here... for help. For help.

Jolson’s features smooth out into a tired smile, no doubt exhausted after today’s near-disaster. I take a moment to look at him, really look at him, and see dark circles under his eyes. I suddenly forget about the Supreme Leader.

“Have you been taking care of yourself, Jolson?” I ask, my tone sounding perhaps a little more accusing than intended. “You look tired.”

He stands, chuckling as if amused, and extends an arm out towards me. I walk over. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, squeezing me gently. “I am,” he says. “But you’re anxiety over this whole thing might be tiring me out even more.”

I glare at him.

“I’m joking.”

We walk out into the main lobby. A few librarians and archivists are leaving for the night—no doubt heading out to the bar—while others are coming in for their shifts. Malobry is talking to Vess, one of our receptionists, with a bright smile I haven’t seen in months. The weight of today’s visit has been finally lifted off of our shoulders. We probably won’t have to worry about another inspection for a year or two. I only wish I could celebrate with the others.

Jolson stops for a moment, turning to face me. “You’re going to be fine,” he reassures once again. “Remember, he’s the one who needs your help. No need to get overwhelmed.”

His eyes bore into mine, and all I can do is nod.

He pats my arm softly before heading for the doors. I watch as he slaps Malobry’s back forcefully as he walks by, earning him a near disgusted look from the elder. He too heads out for the night a moment later.

The clock reads 25:00, and I decide whether to go back to my office and wait or just go home. General Hux did say that the Supreme Leader would be coming today... there’s still an hour left. I’ll wait until then.

I walk up the receptionist's desk, replaying Jolson’s words in my head. He’s right. There’s no need to get worked up about it. I know what I’m doing. This has been my job for the last five years, after all... I’m allowed to feel confident.

“Hey, Vess,” I greet with a warm smile. She looks up from the datapad in her hands, immediately returning my smile with her own.

“Ahré, oh my goodness! How are you? How was the inspection today? I heard that Jolson almost didn’t get his level of the east wing finished on time, and that the General asked you to help the Supreme Leader with something, and that Malobry almost passed out. Oh! Is it true that...” She speaks at a pace I can hardly keep up with, but I let her go on. Her golden curls bounce excitedly at the news of today’s events, and I almost feel bad that she has the late shift this month. It’s clear that she likes to stay in the loop.

“Everything is great,” I say once she’s done. “And yes, it was pretty busy today, but also kind of scary.”

“Oh, I’m sure! After all of that? I wish I could have seen it!” She leans back in her chair dramatically, bringing a hand up to her forehead with a swoon. “You are so lucky, Ahré.”

If only.

I giggle and shake my head. “Hey, I’m going to be in the fifth library study on the second floor until the Supreme Leader arrives. If you could direct him there when he comes, that would be great.”

She nods eagerly. “Of course! Absolutely no problem! Have fun!”

I thank her and go back to my office to grab my datapad before making my way up to the second floor. It’s quiet in this part of the building. No students, no faculty or staff... just the low hum of the heater and a couple of droids finishing up their work. It’s the perfect place to relax at this hour. I enter the study and climb up to the mezzanine. There’s an alcove in the back, a small armchair and lamp occupying the space. It looks so inviting, I have to stop myself from running over and laying down for a nap. Out of the couple thousand study rooms, this is by far my favorite.

I pass by a window that looks far out to the border, stopping for a second to watch the red blinking lights on the gate. On the other side lies a frozen wasteland, filled with nothing except what remains of the Yuuzhan Vong. Their arrival to Obroa-skai two years ago was anything but expected, and before we all knew it, they had destroyed much of the planet’s life within the span of a few months. It wasn’t until the First Order caught wind of the invasion did they come. They were able to wipe away a majority of the enemy rather quickly. Since then, we’ve all been trying our best to return to a sense of normalcy... but even now, that reality seems to be illusive as ever.

I tear my eyes away from the view and sit down in the armchair. The anxiety I’ve held back for the last few minutes settles in once again, and this time it just feels a little more real. I run my fingers across my datapad in an attempt to distract my nerves but to no avail. I turn it on and see the lower level report, still open and ready for me to read.

I skim through the subheadings: field reports in need of filing... more software malfunctions... registering new reference codes... Nothing out of the ordinary. Again. I sigh and begin to read from the top.

About a half-hour later, I hear the door open on the other side of the room.

[prorevenge]

Contract Negotiations in a Second Language

This one's a bit bit, sorry for the length, I've tried to cut it down... hard to do without losing some twists and turns in the story. Hope you think it's worth it, I sure do!

TLDR @ the End.

I work in China as an English teacher. There are hundreds of great jobs out here, but at least an equal portion of people trying to screw you in every way possible. Each company I've worked with has been an education in paperwork, contract negotiations, and leverage. 6 years in, I'd like to think I'm finally getting the hang of it. 6 years working here isn't unheard of, but it's rare, and my level of education/job experience (plus standard white face) sells for quite a premium here.

At this private school I'm one of 3 foreign teachers, a job that carries a lot of prestige locally, and brings in a lot of students (read $$$), as only certain schools are even permitted to hire foreigners and even less can afford/find them. During recruitment periods, parents are paraded into my classroom, and I'm sometimes given bonuses because of how often I'm complimented on my energy, teaching style, even handsomeness (this matters in China... I'm NOT handsome, but white in rural China is auto-handsome). The other foreign teachers here are African--and yes, there's a substantial racial bias, and they get paid much less. I've chosen this school, because it's got the lowest cost of living area with the highest offered salary---but most importantly the highest amount of free time. I work about 20 hours per week, save 70% of my salary, and spend the rest traveling. I had negotiated a VERY competitive salary. I also signed a non-standard contract that I had personally edited. I was proud of myself... at least until....

I arrived at the school and the international staff liaison immediately asked me to sign their 'standard contract'--the earlier one was a mistake, and couldn't be submitted for my visa. I now knew this was one of "those schools" I'd heard stories... they would do anything to screw over the 老外 (foreigner). I pulled up my big-boy britches. ... I needed to be prepared. ... I wasn't...

Initially, I didn't even read the "standard contract," it offered me only 2/3's of my agreed upon salary, so I told them to update that. They returned (days later) and I read it--a horrific document that would lose me: my Christmas holiday (a great luxury in China), my salaried status (a shift to per/class pay with no pay for canceled classes), and even allow them to charge me if I leave without finishing my contract. More terrifying still? "additional 'activities' or 'events' could be assigned without pay or notice" apparently at any time. The contract would also require me to locate another foreign teacher 'replacement' before allowing me to sever employment, and prevented me from leaving this school for any competing school in China.

"Everyone signs it!" was chanted at me by four separate workers (all of the English speakers in the building), each appalled that I was arguing. I informed them "I'm not everyone. We'll stick to my contract."

(I found out later, everyone apparently does sign it. They just don't bother following it. The other foreign teachers just run away on payday. The school has lost more than 10 teachers this way.)

Four individual attempts were made to rewrite the "standard" contract to include what I had negotiated for. Each new version left out new things... (I hate to ignore Hanlon's Razor: "Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity." , but we were approaching the edge of Occam's Razor here... "The simplest explanation is usually true.") God, I prayed they were only stupid! By the end, I simply wrote the contract using their format.

Except by then we were 6 months into the school year. Operating that long without an official contract in China is dangerous, and can allow the government to seize my 'illegal wages.' But there were just 3 more months until summer vacation... except...

that's when the school decided that they didn't want to pay my summer salary. Now my paperwork clearly said that I was a salaried employee, and that I was to be paid whether they had classes or not. Summer had no classes, I pointed out, but I still get paid. ... I hadn't anticipated them creating a summer school just to give me classes. But, the dates for 'summer holiday' wasn't specified, so I lost three weeks of my vacation to their "summer classes." At the meeting where I debated the ambiguities in the contract, seeking some discussion, a meeting of the minds, the boss lady simply demanded, "Will you comply with the contract you signed or not?" [This remains the most English and the only grammatical English she's ever spoken within my hearing.]

Would I do what I signed up for? Fuck. ... I would.

...but contract negotiations were already starting... for the school year (by now) beginning in only two months. I hadn't been prepared before, but I was determined to get my 3 weeks back.

The initial plan was to set my demands so high that eventually insisting on getting 3 weeks vacation or 3 weeks extra pay would seem reasonable. I rejected the three contracts they offered me (each one a version I had already seen and refused the year before), the foreign staff liaison (FL) suggested that I again write the contract myself, so I would be happy with it. I sighed, and uttered , "好吧," (a reluctant "Fine.") Don't mind if I do!

I had three contract versions sent to them by the end of the day. (They were just modified versions of my last 3 employers)-- but they were written in amateur and heavy English legalese. Poor ESL (English Second Language) workers never had a chance. They balked.

Now, my email clearly explained that each contract offered different benefits, each a separate option I'd accept: One gave me less classes/week, one provided substantial penalty fees for each week my salary was delayed, one insisted that my "holiday" salary for the year (3 months) be paid immediately. Additional benefits tossed in at random: sick days, penalties for not giving notice of canceled classes/holidays, (as opposed to the less than 24 hours notice I'd heretofore received). I even added my water/electric bill, cafeteria meal card, and internet to the list.

Overwhelmed by the complexity of the documents... FL asked for the 3 to be combined into a single document. I did, again reminding them that they contained several options, and this time adding that it was really an initial negotiating position. I'm quite certain that reminder was never read. Well, I combined the documents... every potentially reasonable request I had managed to concoct over 2 months was thrown together into the final draft.

I imagine FL having a quiet heart attack upon reading it, knowing sending it to the boss was akin to a suicide attempt. That's when they stopped paying me.

I had now agreed to working one summer month [okay, 3 weeks] "free" (as it should have been a holiday), and now I had worked another month, but payday arrived without them paying my salary... my legal options were pretty unknown to me, it's not my legal system, and I can barely parse a Chinese sentence, much less read legalese... I continued to work, and occasionally remind them about needing paid... as I neared two months behind in salary... we began "negotiations."

These contract negotiations were more stressful than any breakup I've ever had: First, I would be called into the office, berated at for being ungrateful (usually) for hours, have it explained that I was being unreasonable, told precisely how much each of the workers in the office made (fractions of my salary), and then asked to make some concessions, ... I told them they'd receive concessions only if they made some proportionate concessions on their end. (This is China. None of the people I was talking to were authorized to make any concessions, they were just aware the boss lady/owner (HRH-- Her Royal Highness) was NOT HAPPY with my requests [or perhaps would be not happy?--I still don't know if/when she read the contract]) But there was nothing they could do... I started playing games on my laptop while waiting for them to run out of stamina. I wracked up 120+ hours on the game. Wake up. Go to class. Go to meetings. Get yelled at. Lunch break, go home, nap, return in the afternoon for a repeat performance. Had this for an entire two weeks with little variation... well sometimes the meetings were before class, sometimes the meetings were after. Variety is the spice of life! I began to look forward to classes, as they were a reason to escape "meetings."

Finally, someone must have decided I wasn't going to budge, and the contract was sent to the boss for approval. My demands had been shuffled, reworded, and buried in paragraphs--but the content was largely unchanged.

HRH immediately made a (6+ hour) trip to the school from Beijing for our meeting. Upon her arrival HRH stood for a photo session with me, I was given chocolates, wine, the (ceremonial) position of vice principal, and the promise of a raise. (I hadn't even considered a raise! I made way too much for the region as it was! But it'd been promised, so I added it into my next draft.) The meetings lasted 3 days on and off. (Although my time with her was less than 3 hours total, because we were constantly interrupted by investors, new students, parents, etc.)

On the third day, I left the meeting (for lunch) with the regretful promise that I would begin looking for work elsewhere. I already had four interviews scheduled for the afternoon.

No sorry, I couldn't possibly return to the meetings, I've already scheduled an interviews until 4. Yes, I know, it's important, but I've already scheduled the meeting. ... Okay... okay... No. I have a meeting. .... Yes. I understand. ... No, I still have a meeting... I'll come over immediately after. ... Oh, HRH wants to talk? ... Sorry, still have an interview. ... No, I won't cancel... Yes, HRH is very very busy... well, it's very kind of you to (finally) give me that promised raise, but I have promised to have these meetings, and I keep my promises. Buh-bye.

[Between interviews] I'm sorry. I have an interview now, and can't answer your direct messages, but yes, some sick days is reasonable... I've g2g... That'd be nice... The Wechat [Chinese skype/facebook] call is starting. Buh-bye.

I arrived to a very different meeting. My boss was sitting in a room of 6 police officers with a pile of money on the table bigger than a large suitcase. I was certain she was paying them to arrest me. 'Oh fuck,' I thought. 'HRH is real fucking hardcore. What the fuck was I doing?'

I was told that I wasn't allowed to leave the school, that my contract only allowed me to work for her. I agreed that might be the case, (suddenly, I was in a very agreeable mood) and asked if I could read that part in the contract I'd signed. She picked up the contract and began scanning. The contract said no such thing, but her face never changed as she scanned the substantially altered "standard" contract. Everyone in the room pretended we weren't paying attention to her.

​

She finished scanning. There was a glance at the FL.

"Yes, you will only work for me." She asked me what the other schools were offering, salary-wise. I told her. She rounded up the number and tossed two wads of cash to me, and turned to continue her conversation with the police. "Bring his contract. We're signing it now." A worker snatched the money from my hands and counted out my (very late) salary.

The poor staff. They were still unprepared. (They brought the combined version of the contract that I'd emailed... my first 'final draft'.) HRH didn't even glance at it before signing. I got everything I could have thought to ask for. I celebrated for two weeks--in Thailand.

Epilogue: FL has an easier job (same pay) in a different school now. We're still not friends, but she told me she's grateful to not work here anymore. She won't say it's my fault, (that's not Chinese culture), but I'm 99.99% sure it is. I've bought her gifts, (2) until she stopped accepting them.

This year I promised no new demands in my contract... I just wanted my salary... ... but there were still some changes...

First, since I've accumulated an additional 80% of my yearly salary in fines, (they failed to pay my three months holiday salary up front). I've had my contract reviewed by a Chinese lawyer. It may be not eloquent, (online translated) Chinese, but it would hold up in court. To be honest though, I still feel bad about them signing that insane contract, so I'm holding to the stated intention in the penalties... This year, as an addendum I added: "As the penalty is meant to be corrective, rather than punitive, so long as my wages, and the wages of my fellow employees, are paid on time, the missing fines from last year will not be assessed. All fines will become due, including all subsequent late fees, if any teacher can demonstrate that they have not been paid by the 15th." I calculate that weekly fines will have pushed my punitive figures to 200%+ of my yearly salary by that time. They asked for one change-- I was the only staff member with Christmas off, and it was breeding resentment. Instead of Christmas and Christmas Eve, could I accept instead holiday days in lieu? I wrote the addendum myself. I wrote "Upon request of Party A, instead of the Christmas holiday, Party B will receive an additional 12 paid holiday days." 12.

​

The addendum was returned signed. I can only assume HRH is still not reading my contracts before signing.

I'm now up to 4 months paid holidays, and yesterday I sent the excel spreadsheet with the complete calculations of all fines from last year. There was a panic, until I restated the reminder that the fines will not be assessed so long as I can't validate any complaints about myself or my friends/co-workers not being paid on time. I was assured (again) it wouldn't ever happen.

TLDR: Boss in China screws me out of three weeks vacation, creating special "summer school classes" just to make me work, only possible because of a bad contract translation/ambiguity. So, I rewrite my contract next year- give myself a raise, three weeks of paid vacation, free meals, and nearly extortionate fees for late payments. I could demand 80% of my salary extra this year in penalties alone. Instead, I wrote myself in an additional two weeks of paid vacation. Going to see how long I can keep this up.

(source) story by (/u/StillAdamRoots)