#its just. we're already in Such a grey area.

[catfishofoldin99colours]

'why are there freaks in the hermitshipping tag!' for one we're playing with a Very loose concept of them being characters at all considering they're just doing letsplays and not actually putting any spin on their real personalities or interactions which makes any and all 'character interactions' barely half a degree away from RPF already so like. Maybe start there ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[lousypotatoes]

Women Think I'm Tasty

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Reader has grey skin, and monarch butterfly wings, they can be any color that you want. This is reader's outfit and shoes. If you want something different, you're more than welcome to imagine something else!!

This chapter takes place during the pilot episode.

Song Recommendation:

Set Fire To The Rain - Adele

"Charlie? Are you okay?"

Charlie turned around and saw her aunt walking towards her, a concerned look on her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Y/N," Charlie said. "The extermination just has me thinking that's all.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," Y/N said gently, grabbing onto Charlie's shoulders. "Your idea is amazing and its gonna work, I'm sure of it."

Charlie smiled. "Thanks Y/N,"

"That's what I'm here for, kiddo," Y/N smiled back. "Now c'mon, let's go back inside. It smells gross out here."

Y/N was sitting on the couch in the hotel, scrolling on her phone, reading about the latest extermination and the turf wars.

"This is all so fucking stupid," she muttered as she scrolled. "I hate the end of extermination day so fucking much."

"Y/N, are you coming?" said a voice.

Y/N looked up and saw her niece's girlfriend, Vaggie.

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked.

"We're going to the news station to try and get the hotel out there," Vaggie explained.

"Oh shit!" Y/N exclaimed, jumping off the couch. "I totally forgot that was today! Yeah, I'm coming, let me just get my shoes on."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Charlie said.

"No, I want to," Y/N said as she put her boots on. "You're gonna need all the support you can get. Besides, I want this to happen almost as much as you do."

"Thanks Y/N," Charlie said hugging her aunt. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"The feeling is mutual," Y/N laughed, hugging Charlie back. "Now c'mon we don't wanna be late do we?"

"Good afternoon, I'm Katie Killjoy,"

"And I'm Tom Trench,"

Y/N sat on the couch in the dressing room, watching the news play on the T.V., her leg bouncing up and down nervously.

"Chaos out of Pentagram City today as the turf war is raging on the west side," Tom Trench said on the T.V. "Between notable king pin Sir Pentious and self-proclaimed spunky powerhouse, Cherri Bomb."

"That's right Tom," Katie Killjoy said. "After the recent extermination, many areas are now up for grabs."

The T.V showed footage of the fight between Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb, the two of them throwing egg creatures and bombs at each other.

"Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory," Katie said as the footage played.

"Those two seem to be really going at it, huh?" Tom said as the footage finished.

"It looks like they're fighting tooth and nail for that hot spot," Katie said, putting an actual tooth in her mouth and eating it.

'Gross,' Y/N thought, grimacing.

"And I'd sure like to nail her hot spot," Tom chuckled.

"You are a limp dick jackass, Tom. Or should I say..." Katie said, pouring hot coffee onto Tom's lap. "No dick."

Tom held his lap, trying to keep his sounds of pain down.

"Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of Hell's own head honcho," Katie said, ignoring Tom. "Who's here to discuss her brand-new passion project. All that and more after the break."

Y/N got up, walking over to Charlie and Vaggie.

"You remember what to say?" Vaggie asked as she finished fixing Charlie's bow tie.

Charlie took in a deep breath. "Yes! Let's do this!"

"Just look at me and I'll mouth it to you," Vaggie said, making Charlie frown.

"Come on Vaggie, I know what to say," Charlie groaned. "I just feel like we need to...I don't know, make things sound more exciting."

Charlie gasped. "Ohhhh what if I s-"

"Sing a song about it?" Y/N finished. "Charlie, sweetie, I love you and your ideas, but please for the love of Satan, please don't sing.

"Your aunt's right, this is serious." Vaggie said, grabbing onto Charlie's shoulders.

"Well you know, I'm better at expressing myself and my goals through song," Charlie said, climbing on the table.

"I know and you're great at it but," Y/N struggled to find the right words. "Life isn't a musical hun."

"Fine. But I have these other ideas of what to say," Charlie said, jumping up and down. "The highlighted bits are the best parts!"

Vaggie took the paper and read it, Y/N skimmed through it over Vaggie's shoulder.

"It's all highlighted," Vaggie said.

"Is that a drawing?" Y/N asked.

"Yes! That's the happy ending scene!" Charlie exclaimed, grabbing Vaggie's and Y/N's shoulders. "Everyone's smiling and happy in Heaven!"

"I don't think it's that simple," Vaggie said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Just please follow the talking points that the three of us went over."

"And do NOT sing!" Y/N said.

"Okayyy fine," Charlie groaned as an alarm bell went off, signaling that the commercial break was over. "I'll just have to result to my impeccable improv skills." she said, walking away.

Y/N looked over at Vaggie, who had a worried look on her face.

"Hey," Y/N said, putting her arm around Vaggie's shoulders. "She'll be fine, I know it."

"I hope so," Vaggie sighed.

Suddenly, the T.V. screen turned on. The two of them watched intently.

"Welcome back," Katie said, her neck cracking in an unnatural way. "So, Charlotte,"

"It's Charlie," Charlie said awkwardly.

"Whatever," Katie dismissed. "Tell us about this new passion project you've been insistently pestering our news station about!"

"How many times did Charlie call the new station?" Y/N asked.

"37 times," Vaggie muttered.

"37!? What!?"

"Well," Charlie said, looking around. She made eye contact with Vaggie and Y/N, and they urged her to go on.

"As most of you know, I was born here in Hell and growing up, I always tried to see the good in everything around me," she said, as Katie killed a bug, the bug's blood landing on Charlie's cheek. "Hell is my home and you are my people. We...we just went through another extermination. We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year and no one is even given a chance!" she banged her fist on the table.

"I can't stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such violence," she said, getting up and walking around.

Vaggie and Y/N looked at each other in concern.

"Soo, I've been thinking," Charlie said. "Isn't there a more humane way to endure overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through...redemption? Well, I think yes! So that's what this project aims to achieve!"

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, walking back over to the reporter's desk and sitting down. "I'm opening up a first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!"

It was quiet, people stared at her in confusion and shock.

"You know, 'cause hotels are for people passing through, temporarily," Charlie laughed awkwardly.

Y/N slapped her forehead. "She's getting killed out there," she muttered.

"I figure it would serve a purpose," Charlie said looking down. "A place to work towards redemption...yay!"

"Hah! Stupid bitch," the cameraman beside Y/N laughed. In one swift move, Y/N punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

"Serves you right asshole," she muttered.

"Look, every single one of you has something good deep down inside, I know you do." Charlie said sincerely. Suddenly her eyes widened, and she smirked. "Maybe I'm not getting through to you."

"Oh no," Vaggie and Y/N said at the same time.

~Happy Day In Hell song plays out (I'm too lazy to write out the whole thing)~

After Charlie was done singing her song, she was standing on the desk, breathing heavily.

"Wow," said a random demon. "That was shit."

Everybody started to laugh. Charlie's face started to fall.

Y/N looked around, wanting to punch everybody in there in the face for laughing.

"What in the nine circles makes you think a single citizen of Hell would give two shits about becoming a better person?" Katie laughed. "You have no proof that this little experiment even works! You want people to be good? Just because?"

"Well," Charlie said. "We have a patron already, who believes in our cause, and he's shown incredible progress!"

The crowd oohed.

"Oh?" Katie said. "And who might that be?"

"Don't say his name, don't say his name," Y/N said.

"Oh, just someone named Angel Dust,"

"The porn star?" Tom asked.

"You fucking mutt, Tom," Katie said, scratching the desk "In any case, That's not even an accomplishment. I'm sure you can get that hooker to do anything with enough sugar and lube."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Charlie leaned in closer to Katie. "He's been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for two weeks now."

Suddenly, Katie pushed Charlie off the desk. "We are receiving word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war!" she said cheerfully. "Let's go to the live feed."

The footage showed Angel Dust stepping on the egg creatures and shooting guns

"Oh shit," Y/N muttered. "I swear, I'm gonna kick that spider's ass."

"It looks like the one who just joined the battle is none other than porn actor, Angel Dust!" Katie said. "What a juicy coincidence! You must feel really stupid right now."

Katie and Tom started to laugh. "Ratings!" The two of them said, doing jazz hands.

"Don't look at this!" Charlie said, trying to block out the green screen footage.

"Well, it sure looks like your little project is dead on arrival." Katie said. "Tell us, how does it feel to be such a total failure?" Katie started laughing

"That's it," Y/N said, walking towards the front, pushing the crowd out of the way.

"Yeah, well, how does it feel that I got your pen huh? Bitch!"

Katie stopped laughing.

Charlie laughed awkwardly, already knowing that she was in some deep shit. "Oops," she said, putting the pen back down.

Tom immediately ran, and Katie jumped on Charlie.

"Hey, cock sucker!" Y/N yelled, jumping onto Katie's back. "Get the FUCK off my niece!"

Using all the strength she could muster she kicked Katie as hard as she could, making Katie pull on her wings.

Charlie and Katie fought for a little while longer, with Y/N trying to pull Katie off her. Somehow, Tom Trench caught on fire. The four of them started screaming.

"I said get the FUCK off of her!" Y/N screamed, pulling Katie off and grabbing onto Charlie's hand. "Vaggie! C'mon! Let's go!"

"I swear I'm gonna fucking kill Angel!"

Y/N, Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust sat in the limo.

Charlie was looking out the window, Angel was playing with window button, and Y/N and Vaggie were glaring at him.

"What?" Angel asked.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Y/N cried out. "What the fuck were you doing!?"

"I owed my girl buddy a solid," Angel said. "Isn't that a 'redeeming' quality? Helping friends with stuff."

"Not with turf wars that result in territorial genocide!" Vaggie yelled.

"You win some, you lose a few hundred," Angel laughed, putting his feet up on the seat. "It wasn't that bad anyway,"

He continued to play with the window button until Vaggie threw a knife at it, breaking it.

"Oh, come on! I had to!" he said. "My credibility was on the line! I mean, what kind of repuation would I have if people found out I was tryin' to go clean? It just throws out my entire persona."

"Your credibilty, are you serious?" Y/N asked. "What about the hotels? You made us look like a fucking joke!"

"No, no, no, babe," Angel said. "Jokes are funny. I made you look...uhh...sad. And pathetic! Like an orphan with no arms or legs...with progeria! Right, now I'm bummed thinkin' about it. This thing have any liquor?"

"Can you please just try to take this seriously?" Vaggie asked.

"Fine, I'll try, just don't get your taco in a twist, baby."

"Was that you trying to be sexist or racist?"

"Whatever pisses you off more," Angel said, looking for booze. "Is there seriously no liquor in here?"

"We should just kill him," Y/N said to Vaggie.

"Too late, toots," Angel said. "Wait, would that make me double dead? Where exactly do I go? To double hell?" Angel started laughing. "Sorry, you're stuck with me, bitches, get used to it."

Vaggie started muttering in Spanish.

"Listen, who cares is some jackoffs got hurt?" Angel said. "Most of them are ugly freaks. Look around, you got a bunch of Harley Quinn babies down here."

"You're one to talk," Y/N muttered, making sure Angel heard.

"Hey! This body is flawless. Everyone wants some of me, and I got the creepy fan letters to prove it."

"Ew, gross, put that fucking thing away," Y/N said, not wanting to look at the creepy fan letter any longer.

"That was really uncool, you know, Angel," Charlie said, finally speaking up.

"Uncool!?" Vaggie cried. "After that trainwreck there is no way anyone is gonna want to stay at the hotel! All thanks to you and your selfish bullshit!"

"Does that mean I don't have a free room anymore?"

It was quiet for a moment. Y/N debated whether she should kill him right then and there.

"Hey, come on, we don't know if things are over yet," Charlie said. "Y/N, Vaggie, try to relax, it'll be okay!"

Vaggie smiled softly when Charlie put her hand on her shoulder. It made Y/N happy knowing that Charlie found someone who cared about her just as much as she and Lucifer did.

Finally, the limo reached the hotel, the four of them getting out and walking into the hotel.

Y/N flopped down on the couch, Vaggie sat down next to her.

"It's probably a good idea to get some actual food in this place," Angel said, sucking on a popsicle. "You know, to feed all the wayward souls you got in here." Angel laughed.

Sensing that Charlie wasn't in the mood, Angel stopped laughing and walked away.

Y/N was sore and tired, she didn't even pay attention to when Charlie walked away. Right as she was about to doze off, Charlie ran into the room.

"Vaggie! Y/N!"

"What now?" Y/N groaned.

"The Radio Demon is at the door,"

"What!?" Vaggie and Y/N said.

"Uhh who?" Angel asked.

"What should I do?" Charlie asked.

"Okay, well, um, whatever you do, don't let him in!" Y/N said, standing up.

Charlie walked to the front door and opened it up.

"What did I just say?"

Vaggie got up and grabbed her spear, Y/N not far behind her.

"Stop right there!" Vaggie yelled, holding her spear to his throat. "I know your game, and I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone here you pompous, cheesy, talk show, shit lord!"

"Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here," Alastor said, his mouth not moving. "I would have done so."

Y/N very slowly started to back up, not wanting to be close to the Radio Demon.

"Now, I'm here because I want to help!" Alastor said cheerfully.

"Umm excuse me?" Y/N asked, dumbfounded.

"Hello? Is this thing on?" Alastor asked, tapping his cane/microphone.

"No, no, I heard you loud and clear," Y/N said warily. "You want to help us?"

"Yes! I want to help with you with this ridiculous you're trying to do! This hotel!" Alastor said. "I want to help you run it."

"Uhhh why?" Charlie asked.

"Why does anyone do anything?" Alastor laughed. "Sheer, absolute boredom!"

Y/N suspiciously eyes him up and down.

"I've lacked inspiration for decades," Alastor said, pushing Vaggie. "My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless! I've come to create a new form of entertainment!"

"Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?" Charlie said awkwardly.

Alastor laughed. "It's the purest kind, my dear," he said. "Reality! Cruel passion! And after all, the world is a stage, and the stage, is a world of entertainment."

"So, does this mean you think it's possible to rehabilitate a demon?" Charlie asked hopefully but was cut off by Alastor laughing.

"Of course not!" he laughed. "That's wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! No, no, no, no, I don't think there's anything left that can save such loathsome sinners," he said, looking over at Y/N, Vaggie, and Angel. "The chance given was the life they lived before, the punishment is this! There is no undoing what is done."

"Then why are you here, if you don't believe in our cause?" Y/N asked, her eyebrow raised.

"Consider is an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!" Alastor said, spinning Charlie. "I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment, only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure,"

Y/N stared at him with uneasiness.

"Right," Charlie said, removing herself from Alastor's grasp.

"Yes indeedy!" Alastor said, leading Charlie away. "I see big things coming our way, and who better to help you then..."

Y/N, Vaggie, and Angel stared at him as he walked off with Charlie.

"So, uh, what's the deal with smiles over there?" Angel asked.

"You've never heard of Alastor before?" Y/N asked. "You've been down here longer than me and Vaggie."

Angel shrugged his shoulders.

"The Radio Demon? One of the most powerful beings Hell has ever seen?" Y/N asked.

"Eh, not big on politics," Angel said, crossing his arms.

"Ugh, you explain, Vaggie," Y/N said. "I have a headache."

"Fine," Vaggie groaned, then cleared her throat. "Decades ago, Alastor manifested in Hell, seemingly overnight. He began to topple overlords who had been dominant for centuries. That kind of raw power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcasted his carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone could witness his ability. Sinners started calling him the Radio Demon, as lazy as that is. Many have speculated what unimaginable forces enabled him to rival our world's most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing's for sure, he's an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we can't risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased!" Vaggie finished.

"Are ya done?" Angel said. "He looks like a strawberry pimp!"

"Well, I don't trust him!" Vaggie said.

"To be fair," Angel said. "Do you trust any man?"

Y/N elbowed him in his ribcage, hard, as Vaggie got up and walked over to Charlie.

"Ow!" he said, rubbing his side. "That fucking hurt!"

"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't act like a self asorbed asshole then!"

"Says you, you uptight, prissy bitch!"

"At least I don't have to fuck greasy truckers to make some cash!"

"At least greasy truckers want to actually fuck me!"

"How is that an insult? That's just sad!"

The two of them continued to argue until Charlie started to speaking to Alastor, catching Y/N's attention.

"Okay, so, Al," she said. "You're sketchy as fuck and you clearly see what I'm trying to do here as a joke. But I don't. I think everyone deserves a chance to prove that they can be better, so I'm taking your offer to help, on the condition that there be no trickster, voodoo strings attached." she finished, a fake smile plastered on her face.

"So it's a deal then?" Alastor asked, holding out his hand.

Green light started to emit in the room, almost knocking Y/N, Vaggie and Angel over.

"Nope!" Charlie said. "No shaking, no deals, I....hmm...as princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I uh hearby order that you help out with this hotel, for as long as you desire.

It was quiet for a moment. Charlie looked over at Vaggie and Y/N, Vaggie looked to the side, a concerned look on her face. Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

"Sound fair?" Charlie asked.

"Hmm, fair enough,"

"Cool beans,"

Alastor hummed while he looked around, suddenly he grabbed Vaggie by the chin. "Smile my dear!" he said. "You know you're never fully dressed without one."

Alastor continued to walk around, humming.

"What's he doing?" Y/N whispered to Vaggie.

"No clue," she whispered back. "But whatever it is, I don't like it."

"So where is your hotel staff?" Alastor asked Charlie.

"Uhh well..." Charlie said, looking over at Vaggie and Y/N.

Alastor laughed. "You're going to need more than that,"

Behind Alastor's back, Y/N flipped him off.

"And what you can do my feminine fellow?" Alastor asked Angel.

"I can suck your dick!"

"Hah! No!"

"Your loss,"

"Well, this just won't do," Alastor said. "I supposed I can cash in a few favors to liven things up."

"Um, what do you mean by that?" Y/N asked, Alastor ignored her.

He snapped his fingers, and something appeared in the fireplace.

He walked over and picked it up. It was small and had soot all over it, whatever it was.

Suddenly, it's eye opened, staring at them all. Y/N backed up.

It moved and all the soot off of it was gone. It was a little demon, resembling a cockroach. She smiled at the four of them, her one eye looking around.

"This little darling is Niffty," Alastor said, dropping her.

"Hi! I'm Niffty!" she said, waving at them "It's been a while since I've made new friends! Why are you all women? Is there any men here!? I'm sorry, that's rude. Oh man, this place is filthy! This place really needs a lady's touch, which is weird because you're all ladies, no offense. Oh my gosh this is awful!" she said, running around, dusting.

The four of them stared at Niffty in confusion, and a little bit of fear.

Alastor snapped his fingers again and a grumpy looking cat hybrid appeared.

"What the fuck is this?" the cat asked.

"You!" he said, pointing at Alastor.

"Oh, Husker, my good friend, glad you could make it!" Alastor said.

'So that's his name,' Y/N thought. 'He's not that bad looking.'

"Don't you 'Husker' me you son of a bitch!" Husker said. "I was about to win the whole damn pot!"

"Good to see you too!"

"What the hell do you want with me this time?"

"My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services, I hope that's okay!" Alastor said.

"Are you shittin' me?"

"Hmm, no I don't think so!" Alastor said cheerfully.

Husker pushed Alastor off of him. "You thought it would be some kind of big fucking riot just to pull me out of nowhere!?" he said. "You think I'm some kind of fucking clown!?"

"Maybe,"

"I ain't doing no fucking charity job," Husker said.

"Well, I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment." Alastor said, pointing at the hotel bar. "With your charming smile and welcoming energy, this job was made for you. Don't worry my friend, I can make this more welcoming, if you wish," Alastor said, summoning a bottle of booze.

Husker stared at the bottle for a moment.

"What? You think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze!?" Husker said, grabbing the bottle. "Well you can," he said downing the bottle.

'An alchoholic, even better.' Y/N thought.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Vaggie said. "No bar! No alchohol! This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin, not some kind of brothel man cave!"

"Shut up!" Angel said, tackling Vaggie. "We are keeping this!" he said, pointing to Husker.

"Hey," he said, leaning on the bar.

"Go fuck yourself," Husk said

"Only if you watch me,"

Y/N pushed Angel out of the way. "Sorry about him, he's horny all the time, you get used to it after a while."

Husk looked her up and down, a small smile coming onto his face. Before he could say something, Charlie came and pushed herself in between them.

"Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel!" she exclaimed, stars in her eyes. "You are going to love it here!"

"I lost the ability to love years ago," he said, drinking more of the booze.

"So, what do you think?" Alastor asked.

"This is amazing!" Charlie said, a huge smile on her face.

"Not bad, I'll give you that," Y/N said, walking towards him.

"It's okay," Vaggie said.

Alastor laughed, pulling the three of them closer to him. "This is going to be very entertaining!"

Vaggie and Y/N removed themselves from his grasp, Y/N walked back to the bar.

~Alastor's song plays. I forgot the name of it~

Before Alastor could finish his song, there was an explosion outside, creating a hole in the wall. That piece of wall flew and hit Niffty.

Looking outside, Y/N saw the steampunk looking blimp that was on the news that day.

"Well, well, well, we meet yet again, Alasstor," Sir Pentious said.

"Do I know you?" Alastor asked.

Sir Pentious' face fell. "Oh yes you do, and this time I have the element of surprisse!"

A ray gun came out of the blimp, pointing at the seven of them.

"I'm so evil!" Sir Pentious laughed.

Suddenly, a portal opened up beneath the blimp, black tentacles came out of it, grabbing onto the blimp.

Y/N could hear Sir Pentious screaming.

Suddenly, the portal dissapered and the blimp exploded.

Everyone was looking at Alastor with a 'what the fuck' look on their faces.

"Well, I'm starved!" Alastor said. "Who wants some jambalaya! My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya. In fact, it nearly killed her!"

"I hate my life," Y/N heard Husker mutter.

"Don't we all?" Y/N said as they walked back into the hotel. "I'm Y/N by the way, do you mind if I call you Husk instead of Husker? It takes less time to say."

Husker looked at her, confusion on his face, then that small smile cmae back onto his face.

"No, I wouldn't mind one bit, Isabell,"

sorry that there isn't more husk, he doesnt have a lot of screen time in the pilot 😭

i wanna try the mcrib from mcdonalds

this lovely banner was made by the lovely @al-of-the-stars

and also i wont be uploading the next chapter of singin in the rain fro a few days, cuz my amazon prime isnt working for some weird reason

also, y/n isn't charlie's bio aunt

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist 💃

@mysticwitchcraftco

@diffidentphantom

@wendigonamecaller

@barrythestrawberry041

@jx3-xd

[abbywifyforlifey]

Ouch! Sorry..

cw: mentions of sex, sex injuries (reader), nudity mentions, pet names (babe, baby ect), use of y/n

Abby Anderson x reader

Inspired by that scene in greys anatomy, iykyk

this also kind of sucks but oh well!

It started off as another quiet morning in the WLF stadium. The cold Seattle wind blew through our halls and the sun peaked out the window, creating a warm glow in the room.

Abby had to leave early for patrol, leaving you alone in bed.

Finally you decide to get up out of bed, at 1:18 pm in the afternoon. (Only because you hadn't had breakfast)

You notice a slight ache from.. Places down under as you where getting changed, but you didn't think much of it.

Walking through the halls you see manny chuckling to himself.

"You good there amigo?". I'm fine ..you reply trying to ignore to burning pain coming from under your cargo pants.

"why are you walking that?, you look like a Pingüino.

''piss off Manny'', you scoff trying to walk normally past him

After penguin waddling you made it to your favorite place in the stadium, the cafeteria. You wince slightly at the pain on your ass sitting down.

Hey Mel, where's abs? You ask, "I don't know but what's wrong with you?" She asks noticing how your face twists up slightly as you sit down

Nothing" you reply trying to act natural. "Whatever you say," she says biting back a smile.

"So... What did you and Abby get up to last night" you roll your eyes. "Because I can tell you that nobody walks like that when nothing is wrong"

I just...I have an injury, Mel suddenly looks concerned ''what kind of injury?

Before she continues you interrupt her "Mel, you are one of my best friends and I trust you with my life" She nods "Yeah, and?" I need a favor... A certain type of favor.

"Oh my god y/n!" That's how you ended up behind a certain in the wlf first aid area, bent over bare, on a table with your pants down right in front of your best friend.

shhh not so loud! you whisper, already embarrassed enough

how did you-.. why do you have a bruise on your ass? she asks clearly horrified

it's a long story...okay...can you just- help me, please.

Jesus Christ y/n" Mel says getting wipes to clean the bruise.

it's from when Abby lifted me onto a table okay? you say ashamed

"so a sex injury?" Mel says amused

"Hey Mel have you seen the- OH MY GOD"

NORA!? You say horrified as you turn around to see Nora standing behind Mel, a concerned look on her face.

"That's going to blister bad if you don't clean that up, here let me help Mel"

You put your face in your hands, trying to keep whatever dignity you had left.

"Busy night huh?" Nora asks amused

Its not funny okay!? You say annoyed

"It's okay, we're all women here no need to be embarrassed y/n"

That's not helping guys!

"I know, I know but it's not like we don't know what you and Abby get up to"

"If anything your lucky, I don't remember the last time Owen was this passionate to me"

I hate both of you... god. you express

"jeez y/n, this is something."

"this explains the penguin waddle" they both chuckle

"That's what I said" The three of you heard the curtain open, turning your heads around to see Manny and Abby, who seemed to be quite amused and concerned at the same time

"MANNY GET OUT OF HERE!" the four women express to him as he quickly turns around and walks out.

Everyone but Abby please leave! you express

After Mel and Nora leave, you pull your pants up and explain to Abby what happened.

"you okay?" Abby asks, softly chuckling

I will be, you reply.

"I think next time we should watch where we are going" you hum in agreeance.

"i don't think Mel and Nora are going to look the same at me or you ever again"

"I wouldn't be surprised to be honest, although we've heard enough of Manny's stories. this is tame compared to some of those stories."

you laugh with her, avoiding eye contact, which does not go un noticed.

"hey?' she wraps her arms around your waist looking down at you, nothing but love in her ocean eye

"next time something like this happens, tell me. okay?"

okay'' you look up at her

I will say, for someone with a bruise on their ass, you still looked pretty-"

Abigail Anderson! you say, the two of you giggle

Okay! sorry" she exclaims in a sarcastic tone

"your lucky i love you abs"

yeah? well, I love you too.

why don't you prove that statement then? you reply in flirtatious manner, smirking.

i think i will" she says looking down at your lips and back into your eyes. slowly closing the gap between the two of you.

but you're not complaining, just as long as Abby is with her person, she's happy.

[drxsxull22]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Wayne Mccullough x reader

(characters are of age not minors)

_____________________________________

It had been a month since me and Wayne had been on the run. All because of the car his father wanted him to have. We had little money and no memories of sleeping in comfortable areas. So this motel was the least of our problems, it would be better than sleeping under a sheet of metal or a tent.

"Room for two please". I ask the receptionist.

She reached behind her then slowly handed us a key.

"Room 15, just down there". Her old voice croaked.

We followed the direction her frail finger pointed, passing all different rooms.

12, 13, 14...

"This is it". I say while turning the key in the lock.

And we both freeze.

One bed.

How were we supposed to share a bed. It would be awkward.

"It's better than nothing, I can always sleep on the floor". He says while walking in.

I follow and drop my backpack by the bedside table, taking a peek around.

It was clean, tidy. The white sheets looked washed. I could get definitely get comfy.

It had a small bathroom and a mini fridge on top of the drawers by the door.

"Cool". I say while opening the mini fridge. It was empty. I sigh.

_____________________________________

Wayne sits motionless on the bed whilst I pace back and forth peeking out of the closed curtains. The sun had gone down.

"So, uh...".

"This car, its in florida?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure". He replies.

"Your pretty sure?". I raise a brow.

"But, you know where we're going right?, like you have an address?". I cross my arms.

"Well, the city, or town, yeah". He shrugs.

I pause. "I gotta go to the bathroom". I grab my backpack, walk in and close the door with no other questions.

I run the cold tap, and wash the refreshing water over my tired face.

Patting gently with a towel then searching through my bag.

"Shit" I exclaim.

I had forgot a bra. As stupid as it sounds.

The night Wayne came to get me. I rushed as fast as could. I must have not packed one.

The air-conditioning was fucked. It was 20° outside. And I couldn't think of anything worse than sleeping in my hoodie and not getting any sleep. Or waking up in the middle of the night and not getting back.

There was only one other option.

I take my hoodie off, and notice that my chest is slightly visible but only a little.

"Stay where you are". I yell out to Wayne.

I open the door, bringing my arms up to my chest then go to turn the lamp off.

Wayne is already setting a pillow on the ground next to the bed.

I walk slowly over to the bed, and crawl under the covers.

Laying there for a few minutes, Wayne breaks the silence.

"Y/n, I think you should stay".

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I just think that if you want to stay, you should stay" he says.

I raise in the bed confused.

"Did you find the bus ticket?" I ask.

"Yeah".

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to take you away. But after seeing your father act like a dick to you. I couldn't leave you behind". He said.

He sounded so sincere when he talked. Like he actually cared.

"Anyway I'd bett-".

"Come up here". I interrupt.

"What?". He asked.

"Stay....I mean, come to bed".

He raised to his feet and I placed my head down on the pillow.

He got under the covers.

I was surprised he wasn't warm. Though he was wearing the same grey tshirt he had under his hoodie.

"My dad wasn't always a dick, there was a time when he was, well, not such an asshole as his now. That was before my mom died. He loved her. He loved me. He treats my brothers the same. But he was different. And if he goes. I've got nobody".

"You have now though, right?". His quiet tone asks.

I turn away putting on the bedside lamp. Then turn back to face him. Not saying anything. Just looking.

The silence built. Then his hand came up to my cheek. Brushing the stray hair that dangled infront of my eyes.

I bring my face down to his level. Slowly I lock my lips onto his.

His reaction wasn't visible. He didn't show any sign of pulling away. Only seeming to want more.

He slipped his hand at the back of my neck kissing my jaw then my jugular.

I felt my heart pound. His hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his lap.

Giving himself easier access to every inch of my upper half.

"Tell me to stop". He breathed.

"No".

I gripped onto his dark hair. Kissing harder.

He noticed the translucency of my top and I could feel his jeans growing stiffer by the second, which caused me to move.

He groaned. Sliding a hand up my back, then down to the hem of my camisole.

He looked at me for consent, to which I just nodded.

From there he began lifting my top up and over my head. His fingers tickled my spine as they danced lower and lower to the bottom rim of my jeans.

Then in a swift motion he rolled me onto my back and kissed down my chest.

"Is this ok?". He asks quietly.

"Mhm". I bit down on the inside of my cheek.

He pulls back, reaching both arms over and removing his tshirt.

Then he goes for the button on my jeans.

Slowly unbuttoning them and sliding them down my legs.

"Are you sure, if you don't want to, tell me". He looked up me through puppy eyes.

"I want it, please Wayne".

The fact that he asked consent made me want him even more.

He got down at the end of the bed. I knew what was coming.

And it only made my excitement go through the roof.

"I'll be gentle". He pulled my underwear off.

He hooked his arms under my legs, pulling them apart for his eyes to linger.

"You're so pretty". He kisses my inner thigh.

His soft kisses trailed higher and higher. Until he was right where I wanted him to be.

I swallow hard when his strong grip pulled me closer.

"Mmmm" his groans shot through me.

His tongue wouldn't stop. It kept grazing my core.

"Fuck". I writhed under his grasp.

For such a quiet boy, he surely wasn't shy when it came to giving pleasure.

Gentle was an understatement. He grew more rougher and needy as he licked deeper.

I could feel my stomach tighten. And I gripped his soft dark hair, pulling lightly.

"I'm close".

I came closer and closer until I reached the climax I long waited for.

I thought he would pull away. But he didn't.

He didn't stop. His tongue kept a steady pace inside of me.

His eyes were shut, like he was sinking into a trance he didn't realise he was in.

"Wayne...wait" I stutter.

He brought his arm up and across my hips. Guarding my movement.

He couldn't help himself, he kept at it.

I could feel the overstimulation hit. And I couldn't take it anymore.

There was so much pleasure yet so much pain. It was all too much to handle.

His tongue wraps around my clit causing me to jolt.

But his strong arm kept me down.

"I cant-please...ah!".

He looks up at me.

"Just a little longer". He pleaded.

As much as It hurt, I didn't want him to stop.

He dipped his head back down and went back to it.

I felt the same tight sensation, this time it was enhanced.

I arched my back as I came for the second time.

He kissed my thigh once more, then pulled back.

My legs went sloppy, like honestly, I couldn't feel them.

He took off his jeans and boxers, then climbed on top.

"Wayne".

"Yeah?" He asks softly.

"I haven't, done this before" I confess.

"Neither have i" he replies.

Which leads me to believe he's lying.

"You sure?" I raise a brow.

"I mean you did just go down on me like you've done it before so-".

"I promise" he laughs.

"And this time I'll be gentle, I promise that too". He kisses me softly.

He slowly entered me which I slightly tensed at the pain.

He rested his hands on each side of my head. His fingers playing with my hair which relaxed me.

And slowly he started to move.

"Ah, fuck Wayne" I whine.

"Am I hurting you?" He asks worried.

"No, it just, feels good" my cheeks flush red.

He tucks his head into my neck breathing hot heavy breaths while pressing open mouth kisses on my beating pulse.

I ran my fingers through his hair, and in return he whimpered slightly.

"God Y/n, I love you so much" He exclaimed.

I was surprised. I wouldn't have thought he felt the same. But he did.

My moans were a signal for him to speed up. And that he did. Gradually he went faster.

I felt his hand come down from the side of my head. And he gripped onto my thigh, tilting me slightly.

I screamed when he hit the right spot.

He took notice and continued to hit it over and over until were both near. And we could feel it.

And in an instant we both came together.

I drew a sharp breath when he pulled out. I was so sensitive and sore it was almost hard to move.

But he noticed how worn out I looked and comforted me. Wiping the sweaty strands out of my face then cradling me close.

"I love you too".

He looked down at me completely in awe.

"Really?" He asked.

"Yes".

I kiss him.

We lay there for a minute or two. I realised.

"Fuck!" My eyes widen.

"What" he asked curiously.

"You didn't pull out of me. You came in me!!". I shout, jumping out of bed then speedily get dressed.

"Shit, Y/n im-".

"No time Wayne. We gotta go".

"Where?".

"To get the fucking after pill". I give him an obvious look. Which I know I shouldn't have.

It wasn't his fault. It was our first time. But still the amount of times parents warn their kids about safe sex and the first time gets fucked up.

He got out of bed and got dressed.

Once we were complete, I ran out the door and he followed.

It was way too early for a baby.

Could you imagine?.

A little baby Wayne Jr. Sounds cute when I think about.

Maybe someday.

[sunkissedscribbles]

Prejudiced - Chapter Two

this is only a part of the series, the previous and next chapters can be found here

a/n: i’m so excited for this one, it is mostly angst, mainly hermione and cassie beef

word count: 3742

tw: swearing i guess??

summary: cass doesn’t find her place, starting to drift apart with friends, a little bit of nostalgia. oh, and we meet enzo and theo xx

<previous chapter next chapter>

dividers by @chachachannah

"Cassie, he's no good!" Hermione claims as we head through the portrait hole back from the library where I helped her take back her books. "You know whose son he is and he's a Sly-"

"Oh shut up, Mione, will you?" I snap back at her, getting more and more upset with her stereotypes.

"I won't! You've always been too kind to realize the wrong!"

"Oh, we're going with personal attacks, aren't we?" I let out a frustrated laugh, turning around to face her. "You don't even know him, that's why you think he's bad, that's why you believe the rumours instead of your friend!"

"I'm just trying to get you out of trouble before you get involved too much!"

"And you're also saying not to befriend him only because he's not a Gryffindor!"

"No, I'm saying not to befriend him because he's a Slytherin!"

"I don't care if he's a Slytherin, a Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw, or a Hufflepuff, Hermione!" I turn my head away with a lingering sense of frustration visible in my eyes for a moment before looking back at her. "My father was in Slytherin, almost all of my family have been. I can't base it on myths like all Slytherins and Slytherins only are cruel, evil, and bad! Funny enough, you aren't this concerned about Enzo, for example!"

"But he's not a..." She stops mid-sentence but it hits me just like it would if she said it out.

I look away for a moment with a mix of disgust and fury before looking back at her.

"Because he's not a Riddle," I finish instead of her and she looks away, embarrassedly sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. "When the fuck are we going to finally end this bloody caste system going around?! We are supposed to learn how to live together with other people but with y'all thinking Gryffindor's top tier it won't ever happen!"

When I get no response to what I've said, I storm out of the common room, deciding to take a walk around the castle, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of the common area with our other housemates who've witnessed our whole argument. I don't even care about them and what they think anymore; they are concerned about me being a spy in Gryffindor for the dark side already, alongside the rumour of me helping Sirius Black escape from Azkaban. Now it's only the icing on the cake: me defending Mattheo Riddle. They can all fuck it.

As if my body had its own will, my legs take me to the Dungeons. I do this quite often, stopping by the glass cabinet that exhibits trophies won by Slytherin students of the past. I stand in front of the cabinet, looking at a trophy won by Regulus Black for a potion. My gaze soon shifts to a picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team, my green eyes analyzing him in the image I've seen so many times; longer, curly black hair, pale skin, and ice-blue, more like grey eyes. I wonder if I look like him a little bit, or more like, if my personality is similar to his a little, at least as I know my brown hair and green eyes look nothing like his. Nor does my skin that's a little more warm-toned compared to the boy's in the picture. Probably the only thing about me that looks like him is the curl pattern of my hair and how defined my bones are under the skin of my face - I have to state again, for the hundredth time this school year, as my focus shifts to my reflection in the glass cabinet.

"Good afternoon, Ms Black," I hear a familiar voice from behind me that shakes me out of my thoughts.

"Professor Lupin," I turn around to face my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher — he's my favourite of all of the DADA teachers I've survived so far. He really does have a talent for teaching and a bonus point for communicating with his students so well.

"What are you doing in the Dungeons? Up to no good, I assume as I have passed by Mr and Mr Weasley just a few minutes ago?" He smiles warmly at me and I sense some mischievousness in his voice but when he sees my troubled face expression, he changes the topic but is smiling at me the same way. I haven't talked to Fred and George in days. "Care to join me on a walk? It's a rather beautiful day for spending it inside."

I offer him a thankful smile as we head towards the Clocktower Courtyard and onto the bridge where we stop, admiring the view around us; the bare trees and bushes that are about to come out in buds in just a short month, finally.

We lean on the wooden railing of the bridge and I can feel the light winter breeze in my hair and on my face.

"What's bothering you, Ms Black?" Lupin asks and I sigh, turning to face him.

"Everything just got... piled up, all my studies. I do all of my homework the day I get them but it got too much these days and I barely have time for what I want to do. And I've had an argument over a sensitive topic with one of my close friends today," I sigh.

"Conflicts can stand between friends easily but it's never too late to make up for them."

I just nod, continuing, "I know, but I'm just honestly getting really tired of everyone sticking to believe the stereotypes of each house. It's always the Gryffindor bravery, the Ravenclaw wit, the Hufflepuff kindness, and the Slytherin commission. No one talks about how prejudiced everyone is against each other. No one talks about how we all are different and how we are not our parents to make the same mistakes."

Professor Lupin doesn't say anything and seems to just digest my words. I bet he knows exactly who I'm talking about.

"This kind of thinking only shows your intelligence, Ms Black. I'm impressed, I must admit," he smiles at me and I reciprocate the gesture with a hint of gratefulness in it. "You remind me a lot of your father, you know."

He can see my eyes widen slightly and how my brows change their curve when I furrow them, to which he chuckles, continuing, "I knew him, yes. I can tell you've got a lot after him; your wit and intelligence are notable, indeed."

"Might I ask how you knew him?"

"He was a year below me at Hogwarts. We were friends. Well, sort of." I look at him, fascinated by his words, asking what he was like only with my eyes, nonverbally. "Unlike you, he was reserved but had always carried a book with himself, as I've noticed you do too. We switched recommendations every once in a while and often studied together in the library. He was really smart. He was also a part of the Quidditch team, just like you. I have also heard you inherited his talent in potions as well."

I smile at his words. I have never really heard anyone talk about dad like this other than mum; only heard words referring to him as a cowardly boy who couldn't bear his duties as a Death Eater. But I knew he wasn't like that. I knew he wouldn't have left mum and me if it hadn't been for the good.

"Did the Gryffindors think they were better than the rest back then, too, professor?" I ask curiously and the teacher seems to think about it for a moment, his face reflecting a nostalgic emotion.

"I think we did."

Coming from the walk with Professor Lupin, I make my way back to the Gryffindor Tower. It was really nice to talk to Lupin; seems like not everyone in this school is against me.

I'm walking up the stairs at a rather calm pace as my mind is racing, filled with everything all at once. Once I reach the common room, I enter and find myself being stared at by my fellow Gryffindors, hearing them all go quiet in a split second or lowering their voices to a slight whisper. I don't even bother to look at them but I of course see some familiar faces from the corner of my eye. Dean and Seamus from a year below me, the first one looking at me with a hint of sadness, the second with pure concern. I pass through the room toward the staircase to head to my dorm as I feel too tired of the judgments I face every day. The judgments I have said aren't bothering me, or at least I can cope with them.

"You heard 'bout her fight with Hermione? Think she got brainwashed by Riddle," I hear someone saying in a low voice as I disappear behind the wall of the stairs. My fists tighten as I hear this. I'm so fucking tired of all this shit!

I'm almost on top of the staircase when Harry passes me by. I mutter a hi and he turns around.

"Cass," he starts, to which I turn around, already standing on the top step and he comes back to face me from my level, "I've heard about your argument with Hermione."

"Oh, Merlin, don't even start," I sigh as I can already guess what he's thinking. "Look, I don't need any of your approval to have friends from the other houses and I've got really tired of having to listen to everybody's concerns about either Mattheo or me so if you're going to tell me off, don't expect me to either start an argument or bow at your words."

He smiles softly with a hint of confusion mixed in his expression, "I-I just wanted to reassure you that I'm still your friend. You know, even if everyone were against you."

I know why he says this; he got judged a lot too, last school year when people thought he opened the Chamber of Secrets after they found out he was Parseltongue but I stood up for him, that is what our friendship was based on. I think I attract people who get misjudged.

I reciprocate his smile, nodding, "Thank you."

But still, I can tell he's thinking 'But why him?' As neither of us says anything, he turns around to head down the stairs and I turn to the girls' dormitories. As I step into my room, the first thing I do is put on some music before lying down on my bed, thinking about what Professor Lupin has said about the conflicts between friends. I haven't talked to Fred and George in days and now I seem to have a fallout with Hermione as well; I can't help but wonder if this is all my fault — choosing to believe there can be friendships between people from different houses and trusting them. I wonder if my so-called friends talk about me behind my back like that too. At the end of the day, who even can I trust?

Days go by with things unchanged, more likely; getting worse. In the Great Hall, where I used to sit either with my Quidditch teammates, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, or (most of the time) with Fred, George, and Lee, now I'm sitting alone and can't help but feel betrayed. Betrayed by my friends who are too proud to apologize and betrayed by myself for turning inwards as if I were the victim. But I got issues, I can't help it; I feel like any of the arguments I have had with the others didn't happen directly because of me, I just... shot back and snapped back at them for starting the fights.

These days, I mostly spend in my room or in the library, studying or walking around the estate with Enzo. During lessons though, it hasn't changed; I'm sitting with Kiara, a Slytherin girl, one of my closest friends. I'd say, she's one of my best friends alongside Fred and George and she's head over heels for Professor Lupin for some reason. To my even bigger surprise, for Professor Snape as well. I know that she got daddy issues.

"You gotta talk to them, Cass," says Lorenzo as we are walking by the Black Lake on Friday. "Can't bear seeing you like this: sitting alone in the Great Hall with book in one hand and walkman in the other."

I have known Enzo since first year when we once got paired for a Herbology assignment. I've never really cared about herbs and plants; got all my flowers killed within a week whenever I got any. But he seemed to be rocking the subject. He talked a lot about Mandrakes when we had to work with them and during this assignment, he was extremely patient with me, explaining the steps as many times as I needed to hear them to understand stuff. In return, I helped him with Astronomy and sometimes Defense Against The Dark Arts. We instantly became friends thanks to his friendly nature and how much talking the both of us were capable of keeping up.

"Getting used to it at this point," I say, picking up a rock from the ground, about to throw it into the lake on my right.

"Bloody stubborn, you aware how much you are?" he laughs lightly.

"Like a Gryffindor, am I?" I reply sarcastically. "Fuck these bloody stereotypes, I'm tired of them all!" I grunt in a frustrated manner.

I step up onto the trunk of a fallen tree, walking over it while Enzo tries to enlighten the mood or at least calm me down a bit.

"Going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" he asks as he offers his hand to help me down from the tree.

"Nah, think I'll just stay at Hogwarts. Got a lot to study," shaking my head, I take his hand as I jump off the tree.

"Shall I stay with you?" he offers with a light smile.

"Don't you dare to spend your Hogsmeade Saturday in the castle just because of me. I'll be alright," I shake my head, chuckling. "I thought you had a date?"

He shakes his head. "Why would I?"

"I don't know. Might've heard Theo teasing you about a girl," I nudge him with my elbow. His face becomes red in a second.

"Oh, that... No, I'm going with Theo and Mattheo. No date."

I nod in understanding, picking up another rock from the ground and throwing it into the water. I wonder if you can swim in the Black Lake?

"Do you think..."

"I don't think we're allowed to. But we could," he shakes his head, cutting me off mid-sentence.

I smile in confusion.

"C'mon, I've known you since first year, I know the way your brain works; you look at something, stay silent for a moment, and ask a question, usually a dumb one. Like a child," he chuckles.

I place my hand dramatically over my heart, "Ow, Berkshire, you did not just call me a child, did you?"

"No, I said like a child," he laughs it off. "But I don't think we are allowed to swim in the Black Lake."

The next morning, I make my way to sit with Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo instead of sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. At this point, I'll stand by the opinion that everyone can suck it. I'm not going to pity myself for not being good enough for top-tier Gryffindor.

"Morning," I sit down next to Mattheo, across the two other boys. Enzo has a welcoming smile on his face, waving at me.

"Didn't know you've switched houses," Theo comments as I sit down. A grin forms on his lips, "Another hot chick for Slytherin, thank Merlin."

I kick his shin under the table with an innocent smile on my face. I slightly turn my head in Mattheo's direction but for some reason, I don't dare to look at him directly without a proper reason, so I ask him: "Could you pass me the butter?"

He nods his head, doing what I have asked for. I mutter a 'thanks'.

"I think Granger's about to snap," says Theo, looking over at the Gryffindor table. I pretend not to care as I sit up with a straighter back. "I guess you still didn't make up since?"

"No. But she started it, I'm not going to apologize for standing up for my friend," I answer bitterly.

I can see Mattheo frown from the corner of my eye but he doesn't say anything.

I'm spending my Saturday studying in the library to catch up with all the homework I didn't have time to complete during the week yet. I walk back to the Gryffindor common room after the others have come back from Hogsmeade. I planned to come back earlier but got too productive for once and forgot about the time.

I enter the common room where only the trio is present.

"There you are," Hermione exclaims bitterly as she looks at me. I feel my blood boil in my veins. "Thought I wouldn't see you step in here anymore."

"C'mon, Hermione... don't-" Ron starts but Hermione cuts him off.

"Not now, Ronald," she then turns to me, clearly waiting for an explanation or an apology. I laugh bitterly.

"What should I have done? Y'all are against me. You don't like my friends, I get it. But that's no reason to cut me off like that," I say calmly but hurt. I thought at least Harry would stand up for me after what he said the other day but I guess that won't happen. That won't happen as I'm the heiress to a pureblood-maniac family in which almost everyone is a Death Eater even after the Dark Lord's fall — and I'm clearly just like my family. And it won't happen when they're both afraid of an angry Hermione. "And I won't apologize," I continue, "for standing up for my own views. Not all Slytherins are bad and cruel!"

"But he is You-Know-Whose son!" claims Hermione.

"He didn't even raise him! They've had no contact," I snap back. "Are we really going to have a fight over him again? You're doing the same thing Malfoy does to you!"

I catch her off guard, she doesn't know how to reply to that statement, so I continue.

"You expect people to respect you but you are just as prejudiced as they are towards you!"

The boys are just watching, Hermione's about to shoot back.

"As if you were perfect! Coming from a family like yours you shouldn't be surprised what people think of you!" now this one stings. Even my friends are on this opinion.

"Coming from a family like that is why my job is to stand up for others like me," I slowly walk backward until I reach the door, tears already burning my eyes as I try to hold them back.

"You shouldn't have said that," I hear Harry's voice. "Cassie!" but I'm already on the outside of the portrait of the Fat Lady, temporarily replaced by Sir Cadogan. Oh yeah, I might have forgotten to mention; that I have helped Sirius Black into the castle. According to the latest rumour.

As I'm running through the corridors, I'm trying to hold back my sobs with my heart beating in my ears. I'm running without a destination; just trying to escape my thoughts, my feelings, and overall, people.

By the time I step out of the castle, my breath becomes heavy and shallow and I feel as if the world was spinning with me. The only thing that keeps me on my feet is the fresh air I feel in my hair and on my face as I'm trying to catch my breath. I start sweating but I'm getting colder by the second as if I have a fever and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

"Cassie?" I hear someone call my name behind me but the world starts spinning with me more as I turn around.

I'm getting weak, my legs can barely keep me up. I try to talk as I realize it's Mattheo but not a sound comes out of my mouth as I feel a suffocating feeling pull my throat together, not even able to breathe properly.

I don't even sense him getting closer, only feel his hands on my forearms, trying to keep me on my feet, leading me to a bench somewhere more hidden between a few bushes.

I'm still crying, sobbing against his chest, trembling in my whole body, wanting just to be dead as we are sat on the bench. It takes some time for me to calm down and although I have no idea what he's saying, I figure he's trying to comfort me verbally as he holds me tight and steady. It feels an eternity until I catch my breath and my heartbeat normalizes.

Finally being able to talk again, Mattheo asks what has happened that had this effect on me and I tell him about my argument with Hermione and how almost all of my friendships seem to fall apart; first, we don't talk with the twins, and now Mione, with Harry and Ron nonverbally telling me they take her side.

He stays quiet for a while and the only thing that can be heard besides the whistle of the wind is me, still trying to catch my breath.

"What you said at breakfast, did you mean it? I am your friend?" he asks after a short while.

"I meant it," I nod, slightly furrowing my brows. I'm feeling slightly embarrassed by how he saw what happened minutes ago, me losing my mind. However, at the same time, I'm thankful he helped me so willingly. "I consider you as a friend. Shouldn't I?"

He looks at me with a hint of surprise in his eyes. "I'm just not used to people calling me their friend this soon. Or, at all."

I just shrug with a light smile trying to shrug off being overwhelmed and still embarrassed. "Anyhow, you've just proved to be my friend. You helped me. Sorry for that, by the way, I don't know what happened," I apologize, shaking my head.

He looks at me with an expressionless face, "You've had a panic attack."

Thank you if you made it this far! comment to be on the tag list.

tag list: @reyys-letters @mqstermindswift

[bluegalaxygirl]

I'll guide us home (Zosan X Reader)

plot: Zoro gets lost and its up to their daughter to guide him back to the ship.

Warning: Violence, Spiders and Bad language.

Reader is Female, Kuina is 3 years old and has Sanji's eyebrows and blonde hair but your eyes and skin tone. Zoro X Sanji X reader, Poly relationship, established relationship.

You had left for 5 minutes to get some drinks from the kitchen, thats all it took 5 minutes for Zoro and his 3 year old daughter Kuina to get lost. They were sitting on the deck of the sunny when a butterfly flew over, Kuina watches it and ran after it when it flew away only for Zoro to pick her up to stop her leaving the ship, she begged and pleaded with him to let her get a closer look. How could he say no to her when she gave him that face, she was too cute for words, so he agreed. He was supposed to stop at the forest edge, but he didn't only realizing his mistake when they entered a large open area. Unlike her farther Kuina was happy to explore looking at all the different creatures but taking note of land marks . they made their way through the woods only stopping when her dad stopped in his tracks holding her hand as she looked up at him "Dad?" Kuina asks tilting her head to the side when seeing his eyebrows furrow and breath hitch in his throat. She pokes his side not getting an answer, but he falls to his knees on the floor "Gods there gonna kill me" The swordsman yells out his head in his hands fearing what you and Sanji will do to him "Dad? Who's going to kill you? I'll kick their butts" Kuina yells getting into a fighting stance ready to take anyone on. Zoro sighs and looks at his daughter pulling her into him "I got us lost baby girl, your mum and daddy are gonna kill me for it when we get back" The little blonde girl looks up at her dad seeing the defeated look on his face "We're not lost, i know the way back" His head shoots up at her words "What?" he asks hoping he heard her right "I know the way back, Orange taught me about land marks and maps" The little girl smiles wide referring to Nami.

Zoro hugs his daughter feeling revealed that they might have a small chance of getting back before you or Sanji notices your gone but then again he has no idea how long they've been gone already. The swordsman stands picking his daughter up and placing her on his shoulders "Lead the way" He holds onto her legs and starts walking where she points, stepping through the grass and into the forest he goes to turn the wrong way only for Kuina to pull his hair "Ow, hay" He looks up at her seeing her cheeks puffed out in anger "I said that way, i even pointed dad" The little girl keeps pointing the other way causing the swordsman to sigh and head the right way "Just don't pull on my hair or hit me, ok?" The green haired man asks earning a nod from the girl, his little girl is strong just like her parents but unlike them she doesn't know how to hold back. "See the hollow tree?" Kuina asks pointing at a large grey tree with a giant hole in it, he nods at her heading to it "Once were past it take a right, which is that way" The little girl laughs pointing in the direction they need to go, Zoro chuckles a little making it past the tree and then stopping "Its right, dad" Kuina leans forward over his head trying to see his face, but she stops noticing his eye on the forest in front of them. She looks up through the forest and tilts her head not seeing anything or sensing anything, but she trusted her dad and stayed quiet.

It wasn't here before, he would have sensed it if it was. Zoro had no idea what it was other than it was an animal and it was stalking them, he stayed still and quiet and was happy when his daughter did the same, she learned from a very young age to notice the signs you all give off when danger is around. "Right?" Zoro whispers knowing they need to keep moving, he could sense the creature getting further away, but he still wanted to keep his voice down. Kuina nodded and pointing in the direction they needed to go keeping silent for as long as she could, "There's a large rock up ahead" His daughter leans down to whisper to him getting him to nod "Then what?" he asks looking up at his daughter who thinks for a minute "There should be some flowers nearby, we went past them to get to the rock, so we should head towards them" she smiles down at her dad as they make it to the rock. Zoro stops letting his daughter look around for the flowers but that things nearby and getting closer along with more of the same kind starting to surround them. "Kuina down" The swordsman takes the girl off his shoulders and bends over her pulling out of his sword while his other hand keeps his little girl close. Kuina does as she's told sitting on her knees staying quiet.

The sound around them changes, birds stop singing and the rustling gets louder, fear builds up in the young girl looking around trying to see where it's coming from. Zoro swings his sword up cutting through the creature above him, it squealed as it hit the ground cut in too. Kuina grabs onto her dads leg seeing it's a giant black spider "Stay where you are" Zoro commanded knowing his daughter will be very afraid of these things as he cuts at any of the large spiders around him and getting out his other sword to fight better. The little girl looks up at her dad slashing the things she fears in half, it made her admire him more if thats even possible and the fear she holds starts to fade away, there's no point in being scared if her dad can easily take them down. Noticing this isn't going to be an easy meal the spiders start running off not wanting to die, Kuina smiles wide as Zoro flicks some blood off his sword and puts them back on his hip before looking down at his daughter "That was amazing" Kuina jumps up and hugs the swordsman who holds her close to his chest "Are you ok baby girl?" he asks rubbing her back as she clings to him "Yea but i wanna go home now" She sits in his arm as she starts telling him which way to go "Lets not tell anyone about the spiders ok? I'm already in enough trouble" Zoro asks making his daughter nod.

You took the drinks while Sanji took the food walking out of the kitchen together "So what do you think, you, me and Zoro on a romantic night walk along the beach?" You smile at the cook whose eyes turn into hearts as he sways "Oh my love, you know me so well" You laugh at him soon making it onto the grassy deck of the sunny putting the drinks down on the mast bench you were just sitting on 5 minutes go. "Kuina, Zoro" You call out not seeing them anywhere, you sigh when there's no answer "I have sake and berries" you call out, normally this would get them both running over to you so it worried you when no one answered or showed up "Stop messing around Kuina, your worrying your mother" Sanji laughs putting his arm around your shoulders, but he gulps when no one shows up "This isn't funny" You yell out getting mad but also very worried, you told them not to leave the ship, so they have to be here. "It's ok my love, We'll look for them, you check the training room" Sanji rubs your arm and kisses your cheek trying to stay calm for the both of you before heading off to ask the crew for help locating the swordsman and his daughter. You checked the training room and there was nothing so you headed to the aquarium bar, the library and Observation room before heading back to the main deck. Your heart was pounding while lots of worrying thoughts went through your head, you hoped they were here on the ship.

Sanji runs over to you as you make it down the stairs "Did you find them?" You ask anxiety and worry building up making you feel sick and light-headed "None of the others have seen them" The cook sighs feeling worried too as you grab onto him trying to control your breathing "I told them to stay on the ship but..." you tear up as Sanji pulls you in close rubbing your back "We'll find them" He whispers to you gritting his teeth as not to cry and make the situation worse. The rest of the crew were happy to go out and look for the two each going in different ways and taking a snail phone with them, you wanted to go too along with Sanji but Nami and Chopper stopped you "It's better if you two stay here" the navigator places a hand on your shoulder and takes your hand "But" Sanji tries to protest but Chopper takes his hand "They'll find them and when they do you'll be right here" at the doctors words you look over at Sanji who looks back at you before putting an arm around you and kissing your head "Their right" The cook sighs walking you over with the others to the mast bench and sitting down.

You sat there with Sanji clinging onto him for dear life as your eyes stayed fixed on the snail phone in front of you all, Nami had made sure you two were ok throughout your wait. Your leg bounced out of nervousness as you clung to Sanji's side his arm around you with a cigarette in his mouth. It had been an hour and still nothing so the cook finished his cigarette and threw it while standing up, you snapped out of your own thoughts looking up at him "Sanji?" you ask looking at the ramp leading off the ship hoping he see's something but you don't "i can't wait anymore, i'm going to look" Your about to stand as he walks off but Chopper places a hand on your shoulder and grabs your arm shaking his head at you as Nami runs in front of Sanji to stop him "Going off while your anxious isn't a good idea" The cook stops in front of her anger building up but not towards her "I'm sick of waiting and hearing nothing while by baby girl is out there with a moron" You all jump a little when Sanji yells, Nami composes herself before placing a hand on his shoulder "I can't imagine how your feeling but please just stay here a little longer i'm sure someone will find them soon" Seeing Nami still not getting anywhere you walk up to Sanji and take his arm getting his attention only for the snail phone to go off braking up the the tense moment as you all run over to it while Chopper answers.

The sound of rustling gets Zoro's and Kuina attention stopping in their tracks as someone comes out of the bushes "Nose" Kuina yells out making Usopp turn to see the two he's been looking for "Oh thank gods i found you two, Y/N and Sanji are freaking out" The sniper walks over feeling relived that their both ok while taking out a small snail phone "we didn't mean to worry them" Kuina sighs feeling bad about the situation but Zoro can't help the looming feeling over him. Usopp calls the ship quickly getting through "Did you find them?" You and Sanji both yell through the phone, the sniper groaning in pain while holding the ear closest to the snail, its on loud speaker making it worse "Yea we did, we're heading back now" Usopp answers moving the snail away form him hearing a sigh of relief "Thank you" Your worried voice comes through the phone making Kuina smile along with Zoro, he knew you would be upset but it seems your not too mad, that feeling is quickly disappears though. "Put the moron on the phone now" Sanji yells making Zoro walks over with his head down and hand Kuina off to Usopp taking the phone "Hi mommy, Hi daddy" Kuina calls out after being handed over to the sniper "Hay sweetie you ok?" Your voice comes through making her smile "Yea i'm good" Usopp steps back a little seeing Zoro's face looking grim "I'm glad your ok angel you stay with Usopp ok while i have a privet word with your farther.... Zoro take it off speaker now" Sanji's voice goes from very sweet almost like candy to anger.

Zoro does as he's told and leans against a rock placing the ear piece in and turning the speaker off "It's off, I'm sorry" The swordsman manages to get out before the barrage of insults and loud yelling cause him you flinch and hold his ear shutting his eye closed and gritting his teeth. "You moron, we told you to do one thing, stay on the Fucking ship and what do you do? Not only do you get off the ship like a dumb ass but you took our daughter too. I don't care what shitty excuse you have or if your sorry, when you get back here i'm kicking your ass. Do you have any idea how worried we were? Sitting around for over a fucking hour and having to send the crew out to look for you two. You have a lot of making up to do not only to me an Y/n but the rest of the crew too. Now get your sorry ass back here so i kick your face in" After Sanji's yelling stops he relaxes a little but feels dizzy form all the yelling in his ear "Zoro, please just get back here" You voice sounds sad and like you've been crying, it breaks him and he's willing to take punishment "We're on our way back, i-i'm really sorry and I'll take what ever punishment you give me" The swordsman sighs soon hearing a click and taking the ear piece out "You ok bud?" Usopp asks as the green haired man pushes off the rock and rubs his head "Yea lets just head back"

While Nami and Chopper called the crew to tell them to come back you and Sanji waited on the beach feeling a little calmer now that you knew they were both safe but upon seeing Usopp carrying Kuina out of the woods you burst out crying along with Sanji running over to them "Mummy, Daddy" Kuina yells out letting Usopp put her down, so she can run to you two. You and Sanji fall to your knees and hug her in between you two crying as she smiles and hugs you both back "Don't cry, everything's ok" Your little girls try's to calm you two down but Sanji looks her over taking her face and checking for any scratches or bruises "Daddy i'm fine, i helped guide us home" The little girls smiles as you get up and walk over to Zoro who stops and looks down at the floor "Baby i'm" He goes to say only for you to punch his shoulder, its not hard enough to hurt him though "You don't get to call me that right now, i told you to stay on the ship, why did you leave?" you cry trying to wipe away tears as Zoro looks at you and walks closer "I have no excuse, Im so sorry Y/N" You place your head on his chest and hit his shoulder again still not hard enough to hurt him "I hate you, don't do that again" you cry into his chest gripping into his top as he wraps his arms round you rubbing your back.

Sanji stands up managing to control himself while holding Kuina and walking over to you and Zoro placing a hand on your shoulder getting you to pull away from the green haired man. You take the girl off him hugging her as she hugs back "I'm sorry mommy, it was my fault, i just wanted to see the butterfly and i didn't stop dad when we went into the woods" She tried to defend her farther but you shake your head walking away from Zoro "Come on sweetie lets get you something to eat" you head off along with Usopp "I'll be there soon sweetie" Sanji calls out waiting until their out of sight before grabbing the swordsman's shirt pulling him closer "You are in so much trouble, You have no idea how mad i am at you, you bastard, moron, moss headed idiot" As the cook calls him name after name Zoro just stands there and takes it, normally he would fight back and call the cooks names too, but he knew the pain he caused you and Sanji. He never meant for any of this to happen. Sanji pushes the man away once he's done yelling and sighs pulling out a Cigarette and lighting it "I know i said id kick your ass but i'm too tired" The cook sighs letting out some smoke as he looks up at the sky starting to darken "instead i have other punishments that would fit" Zoro gulps keeping his head down scared to think of what the blonde man has in store for him.

[wyvchard]

Static and Radio Waves (Part Two)

Link to Part One

Reginald loses contact with his agent during heavy rainfall; Phoenix is unaware how worried he was when he couldn't contact them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Come on. Come on. Work.' I pressed down my lips onto the flashlight as I checked the fuel level on generator. 'You were able to reconnect to the Agency. How hard would it be to run a generator for civilians?'

The radio station was fortunately on the higher part of town, so there aren't any worries that we'll be wading through floodwater any time soon.

Unfortunately, the electrical substation cut off power in the area, fearing that it would lead to deadly consequences.

"Sorry you had to do this. We'd ask-"

"We make do with what we have. Don't worry about it. They're making sure people don't get stuck on roofs. Last I heard, the water is already up to the knees in some areas. Let's just leave them to focus on getting the generator working."

I gave a thumbs up to my favorite sound tech as I try to recall how to use a generator and not the-

-dust on my arms and hat when I came to Babadag, with the smell of damp clothes despite the place not having any indication of moisture.

-desolate sight of my van, with the single light intact as I grabbed a flashlight to turn on the engine just so I can see.

-dreadful silence in the realization I could forever be alone as everyone was gone, with the single wish I could hear my handler from an earpiece again.

The motor whirred to life as the indicator blinked, gathering a series of relieved sighs.

I grabbed the flashlight from my mouth, shivering from the bitter taste of rubbing alcohol that I used to wipe it down.

"... You guys go ahead. I'll just take a few minutes to breathe." My body was gently pulled up from my posture as we shuffled our way back to the sound booth.

"And we're back! Sorry about that, folks. The weather was particularly chilly that our generators decided to take a nap."

I snuck into the other room in order to hear what search and rescue have to say, leaving as I know I'll be next after a few hours.

"It got worse. Some areas already had waist high levels. They haven't opened the dams yet. The pumping stations also sounded rather stressed."

"Pretty sure no one can sleep soundly tonight. Hand me the microphone. I'll talk to them," I said while approaching the swivel chair. The sound of rain hitting the metal mingled with the static of the radio.

The notepad and map were sprawled in front of me, the lamp providing enough visual to see what the notes left by the previous person.

The sky was dark, clouds a grey that seemed to mourn the mess they left on the ground. The wind howled as the metal on the roofs shook, shaking the hearts of people little by little as the reminder of how fragile things can be despite getting used to it reared its ugly head.

"Go ahead?" I pressed the button on the side I repeated what pa says on this device.

"And what are you doing here, you lil' mischief?" He rubbed my hair as he pried the radio off my tiny hands.

"Was that your kid?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

"Come on. Let the little one talk. It's boring to hear you over and over again."

Pa just sighed as he beckoned me to come closer. "Would you like to learn how to use a radio with me?"

"Yes please!"

I was gripping my pen as the one whose place I took over arrived, waiting for me to get up. My mind was tossing through my memories of the other times I helped with coordinating several individuals over the radio, years of muscle memory trying to take dominance over the agency training drilled into my mind.

If this rain keeps up, the pumping stations won't be able to get rid of water since the river's water level would be too high and it will only cause more disaster.

And with that, I grew up with the voices of people who are within and fighting against a rebellion, people who are looking for someone to talk to in the middle of calamity, people who are... part of the agency.

My voice caught up in my throat as I turned to one of the volunteer radio operators. Our eyes met as he looked to be in shock at my accusation.

The agency's search and rescue department is dealing with the floodwater. Who else is in the area? Who... They're not looking for just me, right? I hope not.

"Do you recognize this frequency?"

"Yes. They're my friends. I'll talk to them to introduce you."

"... No need. I just remembered I haven't messaged my folks." I used my thumb to point at the door. "I'll be contacting them right now."

"Wait. Hold on-"

I pretended not to hear the panic in his voice as I locked myself inside the writer's room, away from everyone.

"A-agent? Is that you?!" My hand was trembling when I put on the earpiece, his voice was unsteady, wracked with worry.

"I'm sorry." I cupped my mouth as the words slipped out.

"Come again, agent?"

I bit my lip as I fought the urge to repeat it. He still doesn't know and I don't think now's the right time to reveal it.

"Phoenix, are you safe? Tap twice if you are."

I tapped the desk twice, hearing him sigh in relief. A part of my heart sunk like lead as the sight of the darkness with a desk overlapped with the last time we lost communication.

"In case you're wondering, I'm safe as well." I can't hear rain from where he is. "I should inform search and rescue that you've been found." However, I can hear the clicks of his keyboard as he took a hold of my coordinates. "Agent? Can you explain why on earth you are in a radio station?

"Nevermind. One of our operatives from search and rescue is in the same building to look for the other agents." He paused as a beep interrupted his thoughts. "Contact reestablished. Were you in the middle of that while we were looking for you?

"You are the legendary Agent Phoenix for a reason."

... I'm the reason contact was delayed but I'll take it.

"Just sit tight, Agent. The storm will pass soon. You'll be alright. I'll be here. But knowing you, you're probably getting your hands full."

If I remember agency protocol correctly, he should be checking on me every once in a while. I have a few hours before the next update, giving me time to take over for the other announcers.

I walked towards the sound booth, noting the dreary halls on my way there as two lights were the only places with power to conserve electricity.

"Ready to take over?"

I gave another thumbs up as I took my seat in front of the microphone. I gave my fellow announcer an apologetic look as I looked at the script and the information brought to us from the other room.

Once the cue light turns green again, it will be my turn to speak.

Hopefully, they'd be comforted by the sound of my voice... and that they'll be able to hear it again when the flood recedes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The brain worms are back. Not sure if I should make this canon to the fic but eh.

... Uhhh...

@agent-calivide, hope you don't mind me writing a part two.

@sml8180, here's another contribution while I sit in the classroom. /j

@ellascreams, we're both standing awkwardly right now. XD

@phoenix-and-found-family, I wrote a thing.

@the-one-and-only-043, I wrote another thing.

[barblaz-arts]

Hey, I tried to message you this, but my phone is dumb and sorry if I spammed you! But I love your work, and I don't want to take any credit, but here's my fanfiction on your work of how Vega and Elosie met.

"Hey, Vega! There's where you've been hiding!" I feel my right ear flick at the annoying voice. We're literally five feet apart he doesn't need to shout.

He giggles to himself and I feel his body drape over my shoulder and I harshly elbow him at the contact.

He whimpers briefly and then chuckles as he covers the brusing area with a hand. His drink in the other sloshes a little as he staggers back.

"Piss off, Duke. I already came to this annoying function, because I gave your mom my word that I'd watch out for you at school," I growl as I look over toward the pit.

The natural collection of jagged rocks in a circle created a perfect pit for, you guessed it, parties hosted by drunk dumb teens in the middle of the black forest. The area keeps the bonfire large but safe from spreading to the forest and its great to keep the crowd together, but apart enough so loners like me can observe safley at the tree Iine.

The various teens shout and laugh as the light causes some eyes to reflect in the dark. The myriad of smells clog up my nose. Doesn't anyone teach them there's a thing as too much perfume?

He pouts and the flames reflect in is dark glasses. Tomorrow his baggy grey sweatshirt will be gone and the purple and black Nevermore uniforms will decorate the halls of the newest supernatural generation.

"You know you didn't have to come. My mom wouldn't have known," he rubs his hand on his neck.

"An Addams never breaks a promise," I snarl as I watch the untouched contents of my cup swirl. That, and mother would totally kill me.

I know mom would be upset too and her disappointed puppy eyes are one of the few things that I would make me rather be trampled on by an angry mob.

Now. That's a party.

Duke shakes his head,"You're not having any fun, are you?" He runs a hand through his wavy hair causing it to be even more of a mess.

No. None at all. I'd rather be sniffing around school for hidden things that weren’t on the freshmen tour. Like the hidden society that mother claimed was so easily spotted it was a joke.

"The seniors throw this Homecoming party for new and returning students. It's a tradition to go. Even as irritating as it is." I reply.

"Vega," he sighs. He takes my cup and throws it over his shoulder.

"Your littering." I state as I walk around him and pick up the plastic. I hate it when people defile mother earth.

"Listen, leave. I'm safe here. Just because my mom is your godmother doesn't mean you need to stick around a place that's making you miserable."

I can feel my brow twitch, "I am not. Plus this isn't nearly as fun as you say it is."

He pushes down his glasses and his green eyes reflect the orange flames, "Don't make me use my siren voice."

I stiffen and growl, "Don't you dare. Yoko would kick your ass if you did that to me."

He smirks and puts them back on, "Maybe. But seriously, I'll be fine! Go run around in the woods and dig up a grave or something!"

"YO!" We all turn our heads as a large gorgon holds out a whimpering girl, "Looks like we got a normie crashing the party!"

A few whistles and snarls of irritation echo off of the rocks. The boy throws her down in front of the flames and Duke winces as the girl face plants in the dirt. The crowd approaches her with manic glee.

Someone turns off the music and the cracks of the fire are the only sound.

I know the smell of bloodlust. I usually salivate at the feel of it but this time? It's not worth it to someone whose innocent.

The gorgon jumps down to her feet and crouches. His hat rattles and his eyes grow to slits. "Why are you here, human?"

She whimpers, "S-someone was-s following me and I heard the music-c."

He laughs, "What and you expect me to believe that you'd cross into Nevermore territory willingly?"

"My phone died and I got lost!" She tries to defend. She crab crawls away. Her wide blue eyes scan the area for any allies, "I was at a party and-d,"

A few watch on with smirks, other with disinterested and some in awkward uncomfortableness. The town is still split but not as bad as it should've been.

He stands up and laughs, "You should’ve stayed with your kind."

"Vega." Duke hisses. But before he can grab my hand I leap the impressive distance down.

The gorgon pauses as I calmly stroll forward.

"Mind if I take her off of your hands?" I put my hands into my pockets, my nails have already grown into claws and I smirk putting my enlarged canines on display. I can't help but feel a little excited.

I've never got to fight a gorgon yet.

"And, who are you, Barbie?" I blow one of my neon pink strands out of my face. And I see Duke push his way into the front of the crowd.

My smirk turns into a malic grin and I take my hands out and crack my knuckles together, "Do you wanna find out?

"Don't." Another large male steps next to him and the way his eyes reflect, werewolf.

The gorgon looks to his companion confused. The wolf eyes me and I maintain eye contact.

I'm not sure who the new player is but I'll be more than happy to fight him as well.

The only werewolves I've interacted with were family. And no one wants to fight the Alpha's daughter.

"She's an Addams," the boy says. I cringe as the loud whisper overtakes the area.

"An Addams?"

"Oh, great. Another one."

"Like as in Wednesday Addams?"

"I thought her mom was human?"

The gorgon huffs,"Take the human. You'll do way worse than we ever could."

I make sure to keep eyes on them as I slowly approach the girl, "Are you okay?"

She nods and I wait as she gets up and she grimaces as she puts weight on her right leg.

Duke steps forward and lifts his cup, "Come on Nevermore! I thought this was a party!?" Soon the crowd joins in and I nod my head in appreciation. The music blasts back on. And soon everyone returns as dumb teens instead of scary monsters.

He shoots me a thumbs up and I look to the girl as she looks to the wall of rocks with a frown.

"Hey, can I pick you up?"

She looks over with wide eyes. "Huh?" Dirt covers her face and clothes. There's a few scrapes that are bleeding.

I clear my throat and point to her leg that's she's gingerly standing on. She blushes, "Oh. Yeah, sure."

I crouch and look over my shoulder and try to give a friendly smile, "Get on!"

She gives me a confused look before strattling my hips and I stand with her piggy backing.

"Alright I'm going to jump."

She tightens her grip, "What!?"

I bend me knees and she goes, "Wai--!!!"

I stumble as we land on top of the Boulder. I laugh trying to calm her down, "Wow! You sure are light, aren't yah?" I can feel and hear her heart pounding out of her skull.

She gives me a quizzed smile, "You're weird."

"Thanks!"

I look into the woods as try to see which way is town. Unfortunately, we're upwind and no lights or car noises are coming through the thick compass of trees.

"I came from that way. I think." She points in a direction and I decide to take it.

The walk through the woods is quiet and surprisingly, I find myself starting to relax. I like the solidarity that the woods provides. I walk for some time as my gently swaying makes the girl relax and she puts her chin on my shoulder.

"Is it true?" The girl whispers. I flick my ear as I look out of the corner of my eye she looks away from my pointed ear.

"That you're an Addams?" I feel my arms stiffen. I never cared for the purgatory that comes with my family. I'm quiet proud and don't care for others opinions. Still it's annoying.

She quickly covers, "Not that I care! It's just that I heard from my Uncle Lucas of your mom and how she made a statue explode."

I roll my eyes. That was Thing actually, but not that she needs to know.

"I'm Eloise. Eloise Johnson" She says. I carefully go over a log. She twitchesat my silence and goes, "You know this is when someone would tell me their name in return."

"Vega." I state. I pause as we come out to a field. There's wild flowers everywhere and I feel a smile grace my lips.

It's so pretty. I look as I count the flowers, black eyed Susan's, different asters, and numerous lillys.

I stop and close my eyes as the sweet nectar and fresh air enters my nostrils. The girl behind me seems to be enjoying it too.

I look up at the clear sky and stars. I smile when I see the stars that copy my name. Then, I remember that the town is south of school. So, I go in the opposite of Polaris.

"There was something there. You know?" Eloise whispers so quietly I even have to strain my superhearing.

"It was supposed to be fun. I made myself go out l, cause I promised my mom I'd get into trouble to stop her worrying. I'm also a loner at my normie school. I've never had many friends but everyone was going. So," she shrugged,"Then, the cops came and everyone panicked. I just ran. But when I stopped, I had no idea where I was, and then my phone died. I used the flashlight setting to try to find my way back. I wandered around in the woods for a long time and then this loud crack happened." Her hand tightens on my shirt, "I know you shouldn't run from a predator but I was just...something told me to just run."

"You're human. Not your fault." I try to comfort. She snorts with a watery chuckle.

I stumble out of a thick pair of bushes and end up on asphalt of a road. I turn and see the generic Welcome sign to the town.

I lower down and she takes the sign and slides off of my back.

"You think you can go the rest of the way?" I ask. I look to her leg and she brushes some of her red hair out of her face.

"I suppose I can. Thank you."

I nod and she says, "It was nice meeting you, Vega Addams!"

....

" Can Vega Addams report to the principals office?"

I pick my head up as my cheeks are stuffed of breakfast sausage. I glare at the box and ignore of the student body stares.

Ugh. I quickly inhale my food and then walk to the school's office.

The secretary politely opens the door for me and I pause as principal Barcaly turns around with Sheirf Walker standing next to her. His eyes red and bags underneath showing little sleep.

"Morning Miss Addams," Principal Barclay drawls, "You make take a seat."

"I'm in trouble." I sit and cross my legs waiting for the adults to tell me what I supposedly did.

Mr. Walkers rubs his five o'clock shadow, "Depending."

I raise a brow. Principal Barclay sit and folds her hands on her desk.

"Did you escort a Miss Eloise Johnson home the other night?"

I tilt my head to the side, "Yes, she was lost and I took her to the town sign."

"It that all?" Sheirf asks. I smell the coffee and desperation waving off of him. I try my best to not scrunch my nose.

"Why?" I can feel my heart pick up.

Principal Barclay and Sheirf glance at each other. After a moment.

"Eloise was found dead this morning."

The author shared this to me in my dms too but I figured you guys might wanna read it too :)

[ghostieeeee]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎: 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

Word count: 3k

Warnings: I've read this 5 times over, but I'm still paranoid that there are spelling mistakes, so beware 🩶

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

From the moment you step inside the entrance to the gym, the sound of deep clanking and the smell of icky sweat already greets your senses.

White walls are plastered with full-length windows, exposing the outside world and parking lot out front. Areca palms are buried in grey geometric pots as they stretch up and out, extending their healthy leaves. There are couches with metal frames forming small hangout nooks with sleek glass coffee tables.

The whole place was overly modernised- allowing a lack of comfort- and instead, the constant feeling and need to keep the area sterilised of any mess was induced.

Lia is standing just off to your right, talking to the receptionist. Her hair is tied up into a loose ponytail, her right hand clutching a plastic bag of things she packed.

You watch as she pulls out a small sum of cash, handing it over to the dark-haired woman behind the counter and receiving a small key in return. It's attached to a yellow tag, a number written onto it in what you could only assume to be a felt tip pen.

With a final nod, Lia turns around, her eyes greeting yours as she opens her mouth, "Let's go"

You follow her through the double doors as instructed, your shoes often scuffing the floor as your mind wanders between the expense and reliability of the equipment within these very walls. You had passed several rooms, each apparent with rowing machines and treadmills alike.

Your mind had grown akin to being curious even in the most boring of environments, so it was no surprise when you found yourself in a new spot- only half aware of how you even got there.

"Locker 74" Lia murmurs in a low tone, opening the decently sized hatch to reveal the metal plating of its shadow casted insides. "Any donations for the bag?" She adds, spreading the plastic handles to reveal the inside contents: unopened water bottles and smaller snacks for later.

"I need to keep my phone on me." You display a shy smile, your hand tapping against the back of your phone through the soft of your pocket.

"Fair enough," she shrugs, closing and locking the small door back up. "Yuna said she'd meet us by ring four"

"And where's that?" You inquire, leaning back to gain a vantage point over the room. There are no clear signs of anything boxing related amongst the mass rows of lockers.

"It's just down the hall." Lia instructs a pathway out of the room, and you follow closely behind once again.

"And you're sure you know where this room is?"

"I've been here enough times, I'd like to assume I know where we're going," and as seconds pass, Lia only proves herself right as you enter another room. The walls are lined with various weights, including many dumbbell and weight plate racks alike.

There are small benches made for what seems like three people maximum, and the more obvious attraction- the white, red, and blue boxing ring placed central of the room.

Flinching, you find yourself caught off guard at the sudden boom of Lia's voice as she calls out a wicked "Yuna!" The word rattles around inside your skull as you trace her line of sight, coming to greet an unfamiliar face.

An unsuspecting figure turns with an already brightened face, a wide smile already gracing her features as she excuses herself from a particular male's presence. The girl walks with a prep in her step, each new stride of her long legs only bringing her closer to you as her dark hair flows freely behind her.

By the time Yuna was already standing before you, it was practically impossible to ignore the height difference between the two best friends. Yuna stands a good four inches or so taller than Lia, causing the taller to look down with a teasing grin. "You're on time today"

"When am I not on time?" Lia scoffs jokingly, a smile playing with the pink of her lips.

"I don't know… I could name a few times," Yuna laughs before turning her attention to you. "You're Y/n, right?" She grins, her doe eyes turning narrow in a painfully evil way. "I can't wait to get up to some mischief with you"

"And neither can I, it's nice to meet you, Yuna." You offer the girl a cheeky smile.

"Please, no mischief while I'm near," Lia pleads, her voice cracking with slight annoyance already.

"No promises!" Yuna laughs at the smaller girl's face as it contorts,"You can't hold me accountable if something happens"

"I definitely can"

Yuna hums as she turns to observe the boxing ring. "I'm up next," she lets out an exasperated groan,"Coach has been up my ass about training more. He says I won't make it anywhere with only two hours of training a day"

"I'm sure he has your best interests at heart." You try to reassure the girl, but she could only raise an eyebrow at you.

"Bullshit- that man just wants me to train so he gets paid more." she lets out a small laugh,"He couldn't give a shit about me"

"Then why don't you fire him?"

"It's not that easy…" Yunas head tilts down, a small snarl of vexation reaping from her throat.

"Hey, I need to run to the restroom," Lia interrupts,"I'll be back, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Yuna nods a goodbye to the blonde, fixating herself back on you. "So, what course do you take?"

Your eyebrows almost furrow at the sudden change of her attitude. Her smile is back and more prominent than ever. "Well…" You begin, "I take criminal law out of a personal preference. Family law, common law, the rest of it just seems so boring"

"I take it you're striving for a job as a lawyer?"

"Wow, you really hit the nail on the head there" you share a short laugh, your eyes redirecting to the boxing ring behind her as a particularly loud thud echoes around the room. Your sight fixates on the two brawling figures, a girl in red on the floor as a girl in blue stands over her.

However, your eyes linger a little too long on the girl in blue, mind sipping up the drops of your love deprived life as you examine her physique.

"What are you looking at?" Yuna whispers, moving to stand beside you in hopes of cracking her newfound case. And surely enough, she had done so within seconds. "Oh…" she smirks,"are you checking out Kazuha?"

"What?!" You say a little too loudly, gaining the attention of a few unsuspecting bystanders on the sidelines. "I- who? No!"

"You totally were!" Yuna gasps, jumping lightly as she drags you towards the ring."She's our ace boxer here. She's won us several tournaments in the past"

"Really?!"

"Yeah, she's dangerous when she's inside the ring, but a total nobody outside of it"

"A nobody?" You mumble lightly under your breath, feeling your attention gravitate towards the blue marked player, otherwise known as Kazuha, as you've been informed.

The more you watched her fight, the more your mind dragged the title of "nobody" through the dirt. Someone as beautiful as her- from what you could see of her anyway- was in no chance set out to be a "nobody" by social norms.

Her gym fit exposed her thin-built body and allowed the glistening show of sweat bullets to dance around on her milky skin. Her hair was dampened enough to the point where the smaller strands clung to her forehead while the rest swooshed from the bottom of her head gear. And so help you god- when she turned around and threw a hook in a certain way, you could've sworn you met Jesus with the sudden definition of her already defined abs.

"She looks intense." Really? Was that all you could muster up after your obvious ogling session with her body? But to be fair, what else could you have said without sounding creepy, the answer? Not much.

Yuna hums, observing the match as Kazuha squeezes her opponent into the pocket zone of her fist and chest, enabling her to wrap a punch around her torso as she lets jab after jab rip into her stomach.

You almost wince for the fighter in red as Kazuha pushes her into the red post before being separated by the referee.

"I guess you could call her intense"

And just like before, the two in the centre are at it in no time, already jumping to score a hit on the other- preferably the face as it's apparent that's the sore zone on the body, even with the padded helmets on.

"What would you call her then?"

Seconds go by, and suddenly, the yell of a one minute warning goes past your ears. You hadn't taken notice of the warning, and instead, you had taken notice of the particularly harsh strain of jabs the girl in red had gotten upon Kazuha, causing a groan to elect from her mouth guarded lips.

"Determined"

With the last few seconds approaching, a certain heat rises within the room as Kazuha suddenly picks up her already strong footwork, her legs going into overtime as she almost pushes the other fighter back into a corner, allowing a sudden hook on the other girl's right cheek. This sent the female into the post, her back sliding down the black pole in defeat.

The whistle rang out amongst the sea of exhausted people, a voice announcing the obvious of Kazuha's win.

"Determined could work…"

"Oh yeah? You think?"

Instead of replying, you watch with a tentative eye as Kazuha helps the dazed girl up, carrying her to her team of support before climbing out of the ring and taking her own rest on a slightly cushioned bench not too far away.

"You should definitely go talk to her," Yuna interjects, her hands already moved to push you in her general direction.

"She wouldn't want to talk! Look, she's too tired for that!"

"You'd be surprised, Y/n. The girl doesn't have a team. She has a coach and a manager, go be her medic for a few minutes. Go help the girl," Yuna says, pushing you yet again to get you moving.

You know you probably shouldn't, but you keep moving, letting your legs take on the challenge of getting you to the boxer without fail.

While approaching her, you notice the discarded boxing gloves already thrown to the side as she scraggly attempts to remove the headpiece too. But she's too tired, and her grip on the strap slips without trial.

"Excuse me?" You speak once within a reasonable earshot, earning her attention as she looks up at you. Her eyes are half lidded, face flushed with exhaustion as she stares at you, eyes not meeting your own, but they're definitely on you. "Do you need help by any chance?"

You watch as she swallows her pride, her eyes coming to a close as she provides a shaky nod to your words.

Blinking, you let your body work for you. Your hands move to her chin, tilting her head up as your fingers easily unstrap the headpiece before you pull it off her head, her face covered in thick sheets of sweat as an immense warmth radiates from her skin.

She lets out a deep sigh, letting her body slump against the cooler plaster of the wall behind her.

"You're cut?" You murmur, hands gently moving to point out the decently sized cut on her forearm, fresh with a small leakage of blood trailing from its separated walls.

To this, Kazuha could only lift her arm to see the damage, her barely open eyes shining with a glint of dissatisfaction before she let the limb fall onto her lap again.

Feeling unsure, you look back to find Yuna- and you're certainly surprised when you find the latter already staring back at you, her thumbs raised confidently in the air.

Your lip twitches as the cogs within your head sputter with fine rust. You know you'd feel too bad leaving the exhausted girl here alone, especially after finding out she doesn't have anyone to help aid her properly, but you haven't gotten any more signs of her wanting your help since you took off her head brace.

Deciding on the safer option, for her at least, you crouch down to meet her arm, tugging gently at her skin as you examine the cut properly. It's a shallow cut, but this wasn't something done just now. "You had this cut before, didn't you?" You ask, suggesting it's a reopening of a previous injury.

But you get no verbal response, and instead, you receive a small shake of her hand. This action hadn't helped you understand in the slightest, but you reached for the sterile wipes nonetheless.

Applying a light pressure to the wound, you listen as Kazuha lets out a small hiss, her teeth baring into one another as her face shifts to one of discomfort. "I'm sorry if this hurts," you apologise, dabbing at the reddened skin.

Observing the wound, you miss the stare Kazuha gives you. She had lifted her head, her dazed gaze watching you with an empty mind behind. She watched as you took your time, eyes narrowed as you cleaned her injury before moving to a dry towel to dab it dry.

Something in her mind cranked a switch as her own face seemed to soften- despite the constant jabs of pain seeping through her forearm. Her every thought was clouded with you at the moment, she had no time to take note of the pain, nor her own coach glaring at her, nor her friend- Sakura- who had come back with a water bottle for the latter.

Kazuha was star-struck.

"I'm gonna bandage your arm up, okay?" You ask, looking up at Kazuha. To this, Kazuha's eyes widen slightly as she averts her gaze, landing upon the curious look of Sakura. She keeps her eyes trained on her friend, sharing small expressions with the older girl in a communal way until finally, she no longer felt the warmth of your fingers upon her arm. Your skin was replaced by a rougher material, and it caused her to pull away from her staring contest. "Is that okay? Not too tight, not too loose?"

There was a comforting silence between you two, the sound of metal clanking and padded punches piloting the space. Your face was relaxed, eyes soft as you patiently awaited her response.

But of course, just like all of the other failed attempts, she hadn't uttered a single word.

"I'll take that as an okay?" You mumble, fumbling back to your feet, your hands swaying awkwardly by your sides "I'll leave you alone now. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable" you give her a smile. However, before you could turn away, only something that could be described as a miracle happened.

"I'm sorry"

She spoke. Kazuha actually spoke, and your mind fogged at the sudden action. She's calmly spoken, and the apologetic tone in her voice was very much present with her words.

"For what? You didn't do anything?"

There was yet another brief moment of despair and silence as she conjured up new words, her throat growing stiff under the twine of pressure.

"I'm sorry if I made you think I was uncomfortable… I've just never had someone want to help me… not without expecting anything in return"

Oh? You blink, your mind processing her shared information. "I promise it isn't anything to be sorry about. I just wanted to help you"

"Thank you," she presents a shy smile, her teeth prodding gently at her lips as she looks back down to her injury, observing the well-done wrap. It wasn't a drastic cut, but the gesture was sweet nonetheless. It made her feel noticed.

"Y/n!" The yell of a female intrudes on your conversation.

"I think someone wants you…" Kazuha points with two fingers to a spot behind you, her eyes sparkling under the monotone lights.

"I know" you give her a small laugh, glancing at the way her face temporarily flares up at the sound."I'll see you around, yeah?"

See you around? The sentence couldn't have been any more simple, yet it held a certain meaning that only you could decipher for the meanwhile. Because while it stated the obvious possibility of actually just seeing her around, it also implied the possibility of you wanting to see her again.

It made Kazuha feel warm. Never has anyone really wanted to see her again- not without selfish intentions. And while her mind may just be stretching the sentence for hope, maybe she found herself liking it…

"Yeah… I'd like that"

"It's settled then, I'll see you soon" you wave goodbye as you turn on your heel, returning to the blond you originally came with.

"Who was that?" Lia asks as you approach, her eyes straining away from the sweat drenched boxer."Do you know each other?"

"Kazuha?" You respond."No, I've- I've only just met her"

Lia takes a moment to hum, her chest falling upon the release of a deeper breath,"huh… okay then. Oh, I totally forgot to get a water bottle out of the bag before I put it away. Would you mind running back to get one for me?"

"Sure thing, I don't mind at all," you nod, stretching your arm to receive the key from the girl. "I won't be too long"

"Just don't get lost," Lia calls out as you leave the room, immediately stalking her way over to the dark-haired boxer with a polite demeanour. Her mind absorbed the girl and her closed off body language.

Kazuha was too deep in her own little world to have even noticed the smaller girl. But the intriguing words that spilt from the latter had her hooked.

"Are you busy later?"

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

: A new college means new faces, and although you already have a set of friends to hang out with, you can't help but be drawn to the two campus heartthrobs... and they can't help but be drawn to you too...

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: [𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍]

@zuhasfavwife @havex00 @lesleepyyy @i06kkura @luvjanexx

@xen-16

[snarky-magpie]

Ok putting a fanfiction on another site doesn’t mean you’re doing to hell sure it isn’t right but it’s not the worst thing in the world

First off, I was talking about monetizing fanfic. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, sure, there are plenty of more awful deeds you can commit, but you still put the whole fandom community in jeopardy by selling fics because fanfic already exists in a legally grey area. How long do you think people like JKR will tolerate other people profiting from their IP? One day, their patience will reach its end, and they're gonna take fanfic authors to court, and we're all going to pay the price for it by losing our favorite authors or hangout spots like AO3. So please, I beg you, don't do it. Not to mention it's nasty to the fic authors who poured their work, imagination, time and sweat into their writing for someone else to profit from it. So. Just no. Second, and tbh it boggles the mind I even have to address this because to me, not doing so seems like common decency, if you're posting fics to other sites against the authors' express wishes, you're a dipshit (talking in general, not about you, nonnie). Again. Don't do it. Respect the authors. It's the least you can do to repay them for providing you with free entertainment, please and thank you.

[tsarisfanfiction]

The Absent Thorn

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Clarisse, Michael, Kayla, Will Michael had been a persistent thorn in her side since she was nine. He couldn't just be gone. Clarisse&Michael's relationship intrigues me a lot; I really love these two short-tempered idiots - here we're playing with, of course, the aftermath of Manhattan. Warning for blood/injury, and some canon divergence, I suppose. References to canonical character death.

There were bodies.

It wasn’t Clarisse’s first time seeing bodies.  There had been bodies last summer, crumpled and broken left in the wake of giants and monsters.  There had been bodies since then, and some bodies before, the life of a demigod never guaranteed.

It was the first time she had seen so many, and the guilt gnawed at her.  Your fault, a voice told her snidely.  If you hadn’t been such a fucking coward and actually fought from the start you could have saved some of them.

The voice wasn’t holding back its scathing remarks, and Clarisse didn’t miss how similar it was to a certain son of Apollo’s.  Then again, there were only so many people that had ever dared call her a coward to her face.

There was a reason she’d been staying away from the area of Olympus quarantined as the triage centre and infirmary.  She couldn’t avoid him forever, knew she was once again being that same fucking coward by staying away from him, but she couldn’t deal with another blown up argument.  Not right now.

They’d screwed that up once, already, in the wake of Beckendorf’s death, making Silena feel even worse (and she was certain the asshole had never bothered to apologise to her), and even though it had turned out it was Silena’s fault, the stupid, stupid girl, Clarisse couldn’t screw up like that again.

Not when she was facing so many shrouds, covering so many bodies.

It was a colourful view.  Someone had thought to organise them by cabin, and Clarisse remembered all the makings of the shrouds, pre-battle, but seeing them here, used in a gradient of green-red-gold-orange-pink-grey, most with shapes underneath them, hurt.

There were fourteen shrouds laid out over bodies, and two golden shrouds neatly folded next to the gold-covered bodies as though whoever had organised the dead was expecting two more Apollo kids to not make it.

She’d said she hoped they all died.  She remembered spitting it in Michael’s face, pride and anger warring within and resulting in a screaming match even when he surrendered the chariot, because it was obvious he was only doing it to guilt her into joining the war.

She’d seen eleven Apollo kids board the bus to leave camp.  There were four bodies covered in golden shrouds, and the two empty, waiting, shrouds beside them.

Clarisse couldn’t say she hadn’t meant it, at the time, because she had, but there was no word to describe just how much she wished she hadn’t.  Not now she was faced with the reality, of at least fourteen dead campers and over a third (over half, if she counted the empty shrouds) of the entire Apollo cabin were within that number.

The fact that she had ever meant it when she said she hoped they died, that this happened, made her feel sick.

She couldn’t avoid Michael forever, but for just a while longer, while the Apollo kids were still working tirelessly, no doubt exhausted from a three-day long siege but doing their duties regardless, she could keep her distance and put off the scathing (deserved) words he no doubt had in store for her.

Clarisse ignored the fact that she hadn’t seen Michael once.  She’d barely caught a glimpse of any of the Apollo kids, maybe thought she’d heard Will shouting for help at some point, since Silena and the drakon (and the fucking Hyperborean giant).  But Michael was a midget and none of the bodies underneath golden shrouds were that small, so he had to be around, somewhere, even if he was a shit healer.

She ignored the bodiless shrouds, too.

There were too many bodies.  She knew who lay under the red Ares shrouds, that Silena was the pink shroud, that in another room there was a grey shroud covering Luke’s body, but she didn’t know who lay beneath the others.

She didn’t want to know, for all that she’d been logging the faces she’d seen scurrying around, keeping a subconscious tally of who was still alive, who hadn’t died in the war, but she knew she’d find out, eventually.

Find out who might have survived, if she’d let her cabin fight from the start.

The gold shrouds, outnumbering any other colour – even the grey of the combined Hermes and unclaimed campers – taunted her.  Haunted her.

Clarisse didn’t know why she’d ended up in the shroud room, anyway.  She spun on her heel, abruptly putting the dead behind her, to be faced later, at the funeral when she’d learn who had ended the war in Elysium, and almost ran over the small girl just entering the room.

She was one of the newest Apollo kids, because of fucking course she was.  Clarisse didn’t know the brat well, only that she was young, a skilled archer amongst even her own cabin despite her age, and prone to following Michael around with stars in her eyes.

Her eyes were red rimmed, rubbed raw with beads of drying salt on her cheeks that glistened in the light of Olympus, but the glare she sent Clarisse was no less vicious for it.

“I hate you,” Kayla said, a heartfelt sting in her words despite the way her voice wobbled, lips quivering in the tell-tale warning sign of imminent tears.  “I hate you.”  Her hands, devoid of grime but speckled with blood that she’d obviously missed while cleaning up from her last patient, tightened their grip on the bow she carried, drawing Clarisse’s attention to it.

It wasn’t unusual to see Kayla with a bow – it was more unusual to see her without – but the bow in her hands wasn’t the green one Clarisse had come to associate with the young daughter of Apollo in the scant months since she’d arrived at camp.  It was far more familiar than that, one that she’d seen almost every day at camp for the past seven years – small, for a bow, in the same way its owner was small, for a teenage boy.

Clarisse had never seen Michael let anyone else touch his bow, not even his own siblings – not even Lee, before he’d been killed last year.  Certainly not since he’d learnt to shoot it properly, which had taken him no time at all.

Seeing it in Kayla’s hands now, in the shroud room of all places, made something in Clarisse go suddenly cold.  Her mind unwelcomely reminded her that she hadn’t heard Michael’s voice once, not even to shout at patients that he thought were demanding too much of Will.

None of the bodies were small enough to be Michael, but the bodiless golden shrouds demanded her attention again.

“Where is he?” Clarisse demanded, knowing it wasn’t a fair question to shove on the youngest Apollo kid, but unable to stop herself from suddenly needing to know the answer.

Light blue, bloodshot eyes, fixed her with a death glare even as they started to fill with water for what was clearly not the first time.  That in itself was an answer, but Clarisse wouldn’t accept it.  Couldn’t accept it.

Michael had been an incessant, tiny but persistent, thorn in her side since she was nine.  There were very few other campers that had been around camp as long as they had been, now.  She’d never liked him – fought with him more often than not – but he’d always been there.

He couldn’t be fucking gone.

“Where is he?” she demanded again, taking a step towards the younger – much younger, too young to be delivering shitty news but after seeing his bow Clarisse needed to know – girl and towering over her.

“Why do you care?” Kayla snapped back with a thick voice that wobbled.  “You t-told him to die!”  She drew herself up to her full height – taller than Michael, but still not even coming up to Clarisse’s chin – and her knuckles went white around the bow.  “He f-fell and all we f-found was his b-bow and he’s dead and you told him to d-die!” she shrieked.

Behind Clarisse, the empty golden shrouds mocked her.  Not waiting for dying kids to finish dying, but representing the bodiless dead.

Fuck.

“Where?” she snapped, cutting through Kayla’s sobs.  The younger girl stalked past her without answering, and Clarisse looked over her shoulder to see her kneeling next to one of the empty shrouds, carefully lifting up one corner of the fabric to slip the bow beneath it.  “Fucking where, Kayla?”

Kayla rubbed at her face, smearing more salt crystals onto her skin where they glistened amongst her freckles.  “None of your business,” she mumbled, and it wasn’t, Clarisse knew she was the last person that had a right to know where Michael had fallen, but that didn’t stop her from needing to know.  She whirled back around and picked up the younger girl by the scruff of her tattered camp shirt.

“Where?” she snarled.  Kayla scrabbled at her grip, short nails digging into Clarisse’s skin.  It didn’t hurt, not compared to the pain Clarisse was used to, but it snagged her attention and she abruptly realised what she was doing.

“Shit.”  She let Kayla go, and the younger girl kicked at her shin viciously, face screwed up and still glistening from the tears.

“The bridge,” Kayla spat.  “I hate that bridge.”

She stormed out the door.

Which fucking bridge?  Manhattan was surrounded by the things, and the siege had moved to the foot of the Empire State Building by the time Silena had led the Ares cabin into battle.  Clarisse hadn’t known they’d fought on the bridges at all, let alone which one the Apollo cabin had fought on.

She turned away from the shrouds, fourteen bodies, one empty, and one now covering a bow in lieu of its owner, and followed Kayla out the door.

The daughter of Apollo had disappeared, no doubt back into the infirmary, which Clarisse still didn’t want to go into, but if it was where she was going to get answers-

She smacked straight into Malcolm.

“Clarisse?”

Clarisse almost shoved him out of the way, before recognition kicked in.  Malcolm wasn’t a head counsellor, but he was the undisputed second in command of the Athena cabin, which meant he knew shit.

“Which bridge were the Apollo cabin on?” she demanded.  He blinked owlishly.

“What?  I mean, Williamsburg Bridge, but why-”

Clarisse pushed past him without a second thought.

She wasn’t a healer, wasn’t a fixer, didn’t have a single use in the post-war cooldown where everything was already broken and didn’t need breaking further.  Ever since the fighting had finished, she’d been a loose end that couldn’t do anything useful.

Not that she’d been of much use during the war, either.

The flying chariot – the same flying chariot that had sparked her latest, worst, and final, spat with Michael – was where she’d left it outside the building in the mortal world.  The pegasi munching on a crate of apples that had to have been stolen for them by one of the Hermes kids let themselves be harnessed back without much complaint, and then Clarisse was in the sky.

She couldn’t heal anyone, and things were far past the point of being able to be fixed.

But maybe the guilt in her chest would loosen, just a little, if Michael got a proper funeral – and for a proper funeral, they needed his body.

She couldn’t heal anyone, couldn’t fix anything, but maybe she could at least retrieve a body.

Williamsburg Bridge clearly didn’t qualify as a bridge anymore.  Clarisse gaped as it came into view below her – or rather, what was left of it.  The suspension cables still ran across the width of the East River, but the middle of the bridge was nothing more than rubble piled high in the water.

Six golden shrouds suddenly made horrific sense.  What the Hades had caused that?

Mortals milled about, awoken from their enforced sleep, making noises of horror, distress and disbelief.  Police and paramedics called for order, clearly trying to get the mortals under control above the wailing and screaming.

Clarisse ignored them and set the chariot down near to the jagged edge of what was once a complete bridge.  She didn’t know what the Mist showed the mortals, and she didn’t care as long as they didn’t mess with the chariot as she jumped out and elbowed her way to the edge of the bridge, where it fell away in a jagged mess of cables and metal.

The scale of destruction was ridiculous, and Michael was tiny.  Looking at the wreckage now, it was easy to see why the Apollo kids hadn’t been able to find him – but also why they were so sure that he was dead.  It seemed impossible that anyone could have survived a fall into something like that.

Clarisse set her shoulders and turned away from the gaping hole in the middle of the bridge, stalking back past mortals and ignoring anyone that asked her if she was okay – no, she fucking wasn’t okay, but the mortals wouldn’t understand and she had a task to do.  She had no idea where Michael had fallen from – although she could take a guess, looking up at the suspension cables.  He’d always liked perching on tree branches off the ground – the only way he could ever be taller than someone – and with no trees, the cables seemed a likely substitute.

The cables were the only thing still intact, though, and Michael could have been on any part of it when he fell.  Clarisse glared up at them as she walked, willing them to give her some sort of clue, some sign that a demigod had been perching on them.

Her feet connected with something on the ground and she stumbled, eyes flitting down to see what had tripped her.

It was an arm.

Just an arm, bloodied and torn at the bicep, punctures that could only be teeth marks in the flesh.  Massive ones, the sort that Mrs O’Leary left in the chunks of meat they threw for her sometimes.

The skin, even bruised and battered and sallow, was too pale to be Michael’s, and it was missing the tell-tale paler patch where Michael’s bracer almost always sat on his forearm – or where any right-handed archer’s bracer sat.  Clarisse recalled the other bodiless golden shroud, the other representation of a dead Apollo kid with no body, and grimaced.

There weren’t many left-handed archers in the camp, and Michael wasn’t the only loud Apollo kid whose voice she hadn’t heard in Olympus.  Fuck, Nathan had been a right pain in the ass himself, but he hadn’t deserved to be torn apart by hellhounds.

She knelt down and picked it up, forcing herself to look around in case there was anything else left of the kid.  It was stiff and cold in her hands, detached (killed) some time ago, and Clarisse tore off the bottom of her camp t-shirt to wrap it in.  There was nothing else human nearby, only dark stains on the remains of the bridge and the splinters of a bow.  She picked those up, too, and trudged back to the chariot to wedge them at the front, where they wouldn’t fall out on take-off.

Searching the whole debris area by hand wasn’t going to work.  There was too much of it, and she had no idea where Michael could be.  Had he fallen when the bridge collapsed, or before?  Had the fighting continued after the collapse and he fell then?

All Clarisse knew for certain was that Michael would never have been anywhere except the front line.  He was an asshole and a bastard but he wasn’t a coward, and would never let anything get near his siblings without getting in the way despite being the smallest in the cabin – the smallest in camp, most of the time.

But where had the front line been, when he fell?

She hopped into the chariot again, urging the pegasi into the sky before banking them around in a low fly-by of the debris.  Up close, it looked even worse; gnarled and twisted metal interlocked and reaching skyward.  Some of it looked stained as well, and no amount of hoping it was just rust could shake the thought that some of it was blood.

Alongside Luke the bodies of the demigods that had followed Kronos and died doing it had also been laid, covered in shrouds because the dead were the dead no matter the side of the war they’d fought on.  Clarisse suspected several of them had started their journey to the Underworld here, in the twisted spires of metal of a broken bridge.

She wasn’t looking for where bodies had laid before they’d been retrieved.  She was looking for a body that was still there, hiding in death the same way he’d been too fucking good at in life (Clarisse had been shot many, many times in Capture the Flag by fucking red-and-gold fletched arrows out of seemingly nowhere, and sometimes outside of Capture the Flag, too).

The first fly-past yielded no sign, and Clarisse scowled as she brought the chariot around again, pulling the pegasi to fly as slowly as they could on the next pass, lower and closer to the wreckage until some spurs of metal threatened to snag the chariot as it flew by.

Nothing.

She banked around for a third pass, low enough to skim the water.  The pegasi were straining, throwing their heads in protest as they tried to go faster, tried to leap up into the sky, but Clarisse wouldn’t let them.  They snorted at her, but she held firm, kept looking at the wreckage, knowing it was like looking for a miniscule needle in a giant haystack, knowing that the surviving Apollo kids had failed so Michael had to be hard to spot (and pushing away the thoughts that maybe he was in the middle of the twisted metal, surrounded on all sides and impossible to retrieve until the mortals cleared up the wreckage – if they even bothered searching through it rather than sending it all straight into a metal recycling plant to be crushed.  The thought made Clarisse ill and she forced herself to look harder, because that couldn’t be allowed to happen.)

Something caught her eye.

She didn’t know what it was, a flash too fast to focus, but it had stood out to her and that was enough to direct the chariot back around, landing it on the bank of the river and throwing herself at the wreckage, scrambling up and over metal.  It cut into her hands, more scratches to go with the ones she’d picked up during her brief section of fighting in the war, but she ignored them as she clambered forwards, towards where she’d seen something.

Maybe it was nothing.  Maybe it was just a trick of the light, maybe Apollo was punishing her for her cowardice and the deaths of his children by sending her on a false trail, but Clarisse had to check it out, just in case it wasn’t.  Just in case that something had been someone, had been a sign of the body she was looking for.

It was a hand.

Sticking out from a gap between twisted metals was a hand, limp and lifeless, and Clarisse forced herself not to get too convinced, even if it was closer to Michael’s tanned skin than Nathan’s pale.

Even if it was somewhere she could never have spotted without looking from the surface of the river, where the Apollo kids wouldn’t have been able to get.

Inside the gap was a mop of black hair, and Clarisse lunged for it, kneeling on a faux plateau of metal in front of the gap and reaching an arm inside to push the hair out of the attached face.

His eyes were closed, but she could never mistake Michael’s scrunched up, ferrety features for anyone else.

She’d found him.

Half his face was coated in blood, bringing up memories of Lee’s caved-in skull from the previous summer, but unlike Lee his head still seemed to be the right shape.

“Dammit,” she muttered, fingers curling in sticky black hair until her hand had formed an involuntary fist.  “You weren’t supposed to actually die, you bastard.”  Her grip made his head shift a little, and the metal made a low moan, reminding her that finding him had just been the first step.

Now she had to get the body back to Olympus.

Her fingers wouldn’t unfurl from his hair, so she used her other hand to trace where his visible hand disappeared into the shadows, finding the kink of the elbow and reaching where it met his body.  It felt almost like he was in a hollow of some sort, or perhaps there was a sheet of metal slanting from his body to leave a pocket for his arm.  Clarisse couldn’t tell, but it made it easier to force her hand under Michael’s armpit.

There was another groan as she started to pull and she paused, eyeing the metal in trepidation.  If it toppled forwards…

She looked back, behind her, gauging how far back she could scramble quickly and if that was going to be far enough to not get buried if it did.

The groan came again, and beneath her hands, Michael’s body shifted.  Shit, had she already pushed the metal too far?

The logical part of her brain told her to go, that Michael was dead and wouldn’t be killed by collapsing metal but she would, but instead of obeying that, her hand tightened its grip under Michael’s arm and-

“-uck.”

Clarisse froze.

That wasn’t the sound of metal threatening to fall.  That was a voice.  Weak, but unmistakable.

Beneath her hands, Michael’s body shifted again, and there was another groan, but eyelids twitched and peeled open and-

“Fuck,” Michael rasped.

It was quiet, hoarse and parched, but it was his voice, and his brown eyes that were open and staring blankly – until they weren’t and Clarisse was still frozen, still couldn’t move as they followed her arm up to her shoulder and then his head tilted beneath her grip until he was looking at her, not quite the laser focus she was used to but obviously aware nonetheless.

“’risse?”

Clarisse’s mouth went dry and she felt faint as her hands finally fell limp and slipped away from him, fingers snagging where his hair had snarled around them.  “-chael?” she rasped, the first syllable of his name failing to sound.

He was alive?

It didn’t seem possible; she’d (finally) joined the battle two days ago and the destruction of the bridge had to have been before that because she hadn’t known about any bridge fighting, so Michael had to have fallen at least two days ago, if not three – maybe even four, fuck.  True, he’d always healed fast – and been a smug shit about it – but with no food or water?

Fresh water, anyway.  The surrounding metal was damp, and Michael’s hair hadn’t been dry, either.

“Y’see someone else ‘ere?” he demanded.  The weakness of his voice didn’t stop the sharpness of the words.  “Fuck.”  His eyes scrunched up and a hiss escaped from between his teeth.

“I heard you were dead,” she said, swallowing back the instinct to say something a lot more antagonistic.  Too many shrouds lined up in her minds’ eye, deaths she hadn’t been there to at least try and prevent because her feud with Michael had resulted in her being the exact coward he’d called her.

“S’rry to fucking disappoint,” he muttered, starting to open his eyes fully again before stopping abruptly with a wince.  “You here to watch it happen… or something?”

That hurt, a stabbing sensation in her chest, but Clarisse realised she couldn’t blame him for it, not after everything she’d said and done – and not done.  Michael had no reason to believe she’d do anything except leave him to die-

Fuck, was he dying?  She couldn’t see enough of him to see how badly he was hurt, if he was fatally injured and beyond saving.

Silena’s melted, ruined face crept into her vision and she blinked it away, feeling her eyes dampen.

“No,” Clarisse said, feeling the word tremble as she said it and hoping Michael couldn’t hear that.  She grit her teeth and tried again.  “No.  I’m here to get your short ass to Olympus where it’s supposed to be, you bastard.”

He made a spluttering sound that ended in a wet cough – had he laughed?

“You’re one to talk,” he rasped, “about where people are supposed to be.”  Michael’s sharp tongue, at least, was still operating just fine.  “Where the fuck were you… when we were doing all the ass kicking.”  He winced again, his head jerking a little as though it was a full-body reaction.  “Fuck, is it over?”

“Yeah,” she said, and this time her voice stayed steady.  “The war’s over.  We- You won.”

Michael’s head lolled sideways slightly, closer to where it had been when she’d found him.  “Good.”  His voice was softer, a little more distant, and it felt like the Hyperborean Giant had blasted her chest all over again because Michael never just did that, not talking with her.

“Which means I am getting your short ass to Olympus where it’s supposed to be,” she repeated, more harshly than she meant to.  “Kayla-”

Michael’s head jerked.  “Kayla’s alive?” he interrupted, his brown eyes finding Clarisse’s again.  His pupils were a bit too big, and rather belatedly Clarisse realised the blood half covering his face probably meant he had a head injury, and a concussion to go with it.

“Yeah,” Clarisse told him.  “Your little shadow yelled in my face earlier.”

Michael’s lips twitched.  “Thank the gods,” he breathed.  “She got knocked off.  I thought…”

Shit, it hadn’t occurred to Clarisse that Michael hadn’t been the first Apollo kid to fall, that some of those golden shrouds might’ve been deaths he’d already known about.  Suddenly she regretted not going into the infirmary, if only so she could tell him who was still alive.

The only thing she could do was get Michael back there herself, so he could see for his own eyes.  “And she thinks you’re dead,” she said instead.  “So get out of there and prove her wrong.”

Clarisse didn’t wait for an answer before finding Michael’s wrist again, only for it to weakly pull back.  He couldn’t overpower her even when they were both at full strength, and she frowned when he rasped, “stop.”

“You can’t stay here,” she snapped.  “This metal won’t hold for fucking ever, and the mortals are swarming the remains of the bridge.  It’s me or them, if they even spot you before dragging this shit off to the compactor.”

“I know,” Michael muttered, wincing again.  “But, fuck, you can’t just pull-”  He hissed again.  “I’m pinned.”

“Shit.”  Clarisse tried to peer into the gap, but couldn’t see much past Michael’s head.  “Where?”

“Right arm’s crushed,” Michael reported, and the pain in his voice was suddenly impossible to miss.  “And something in my right leg.”

Clarisse eyed the snarled mess of metal above Michael’s small gap, trying to judge what she could move, but there was so much of it, and she couldn’t see what would and wouldn’t bring the whole stack down on top of both of them.

She crouched back down to get a better look inside the gap, tracing Michael’s arm back to his shoulder again.  This time, she could feel him trembling slightly, and the slight rise and fall of his body as he breathed.

“Got ambrosia?” he asked her, and she shook her head.  She’d been looking for a dead body, she hadn’t been prepared for an alive one.  “Fuck.  Should be some in my pants but-”

Clarisse didn’t wait for him to finish talking, shimmying down onto her stomach so she could reach further into the gap before tracing his torso down.  He gave a cut-off hiss but didn’t protest; no doubt he knew better than she did that without the godly food, moving him with the injuries he’d listed ran a high chance of finishing him off.  Her fingers found the tattered-feeling quiver strap over his hips, then the line of his legs, thankfully curving around rather than going further back so she could still reach.

She found a pocket with something in it just as the fabric of his pants began to get sticky.  Michael let out a whimper and she saw his eyes glisten as she fumbled with the opening before slipping her fingers inside to grasp the familiar feeling of something wrapped to keep it clean.

Withdrawing it was much faster than finding it, and she hurriedly unwrapped the squished package, relieved when the ambrosia still looked fresh despite the wrappings taking on a suspiciously red tinge.

There was no point being coy about it; she broke off a large chunk and held it to Michael’s mouth.  He snapped it out of her fingers without protest and swallowed the dose with another wince.  As soon as her hand was empty, she wrapped the rest of the ambrosia and put it in her own pocket before drawing her knife.

Michael eyed it dubiously, but Clarisse ignored him as she set her hand once again in search of his leg, this time seeking whatever was causing the blood loss.

“Bitch,” he hissed faintly as her questing fingers found the stickiness again.  “Could’ve waited for the ambrosia to- ssssssshit – kick in.”  It didn’t feel like it was bleeding freely; everything was sticky rather than liquid.  Still, that was small mercies when her hand found the wound itself and discovered that Michael’s leg wasn’t just pinned but impaled.

He cursed her out more as she left his leg to find his right arm and assess how crushed it was.  The first probing contact had him letting out a high-pitched shout, and Clarisse grit her teeth, wishing she knew more about first aid.

“What do I need to do?” she asked, because Michael was never the Apollo kid anyone asked for medical help, but he was still an Apollo kid.

“Got a fucking torniquet?” he huffed.  In answer, Clarisse tore off her t-shirt and slashed it apart with her knife.

“This will have to do,” she said, twisting several orange strips together.  Michael grit his teeth.

“Make it fucking tight,” he said.  “Just below my shoulder.”

Twisting fabric around Michael’s upper arm was awkward when she couldn’t see it and there was barely any space between it and the surrounding metal, but Clarisse persisted, tying her makeshift torniquet as tight as it would go and ignoring the pained noises each tightening twist provoked from Michael.  Then she reached to put another one around his thigh, before bundling the remainder of her t-shirt around the metal stuck through his leg.

She was somewhat surprised Michael stayed conscious through it all, especially when she took her knife to the metal and forced Celestial bronze to saw through mortal steel, cutting the impaling spur free of the metal it was entangled with.  By the time she was done, her hands were red with Michael’s blood, and her shoulders were aching from keeping her arms extended so far for so long.

“Any more reasons I can’t pull you out?” she asked him, pushing herself back into a crouch and slipping her knife back into its sheath.

“Can’ tell,” Michael mumbled.  His eyes were closed, and his trembling had worsened considerably.  “Don’ think so.”

“Then it’s time to get you out of there,” Clarisse decided, hooking her hands under his shoulders.  “Don’t pass out on me.”

“No fuckin’ promises.”

There wasn’t much she could do except pull and hope.  Experimental tugs gave some movement in his trapped arm – and some short screams – so Clarisse let go of his shoulder to grip his arm directly, bracing against the metal as best she could as she tried to worm the limb free.  Almost immediately, Michael fell completely limp, and Clarisse alternated cursing the bridge and praying to the gods – her father, Apollo – as she tugged.

It eventually came loose with a concerning clatter of metal, and Clarisse didn’t let herself think as she grabbed Michael’s shoulders again and hauled.  Freed from the metal ensnaring him, and too small to be heavy even as a dead-weight, his body shifted easily and Clarisse almost overbalanced backwards as he spilled out of the gap and into her chest.

The gap shuddered as Michael’s trailing foot left it, and Clarisse all but threw him over her shoulder as she scrambled away.  Blood trickled down her back and metal bit into her free hand as she almost lost her balance.

Behind her, metal shrieked and began to collapse, and Clarisse whistled.

It was a whistle Silena had taught her, loud and sharp, and it brought a fresh wave of grief over her even as she jumped off of the rapidly shifting metal and landed heavily in the chariot as the pegasi pulled it past her.

Michael groaned and Clarisse dropped to one knee, grabbing for the flapping reins with one hand while she let him roll off her shoulder and into a slumped heap by her feet.  In the light, it was immediately obvious that his condition was bad.

Blood coated his leg and arm as well as his face.  What little of his skin could be seen without blood was pale, and he was still shaking like a leaf.  His eyes were closed but with the whimpers he was making Clarisse wasn’t sure how unconscious he was.

“Don’t you fucking die now,” she told him, shifting her stance until he was slumped between the front of the chariot and her legs, safe from the possibility of falling out mid-flight.  He didn’t reply, but she didn’t need one.

A tug on the reins – too much, too harsh, Silena would tell her off for not treating the pegasi better but Clarisse was in a hurry – and the chariot accelerated.  Forces pushed Michael against her shins, and she didn’t know if he was intentionally curling around her legs or if that was subconscious, but her stance was stable enough to be unmoved as the pegasi threw back their heads and strained their wings.

The distance between the bridge wreckage and the Empire State Building passed in the blink of an eye, and Clarisse let the chariot land roughly, mortals jumping out of the way of whatever they saw with outraged shrieks.  She ignored them as she scooped Michael off of the chariot floor, grabbing the bundle of torn t-shirt that wrapped around the sallow arm almost as an afterthought, and bolted for the elevators.

The security guard hanging out awkwardly with some mortals she vaguely recognised as having somehow taken part in the battle looked at her but didn’t make a move to stop her.  Perhaps he realised it would be futile.

Clarisse didn’t care as long as he didn’t get in her way.

The elevator up to Olympus played an irritating, lacklustre version of Stayin’ Alive, somehow melancholy instead of the upbeat peppiness the song usually came with, and Clarisse alternated between glaring at the doors, where the noise seemed to be coming from, and glancing down at Michael in her arms.  His face was twitching slightly, making him seem even more ferret-like than usual, but his eyes showed no sign of cracking open and his arm and leg looked bad in the bright lightning.

Was he dying?  She didn’t know enough first aid to tell.

“Dammit,” she muttered, glaring up at the ceiling.  “Doesn’t this junk go any fucking faster?”

It felt like an eternity before the floor came to a stop and the doors opened with a cheery little ding that sounded completely at odds with the mournful rendition of Stayin’ Alive.  Clarisse was all too happy to leave both firmly behind her as she threw herself into a run across the white and gold rubble of Olympus’ entrance, clinging tightly to the body in her arms as she rushed past occasional startled nymphs and minor gods on a bee-line for the room they’d set aside as an infirmary.

She almost ran face-first into a god as he appeared out of nowhere in front of her.

“Woah!  Easy there!” Apollo exclaimed, catching her shoulder with one hand and forcing her to a stop.  He wasn’t wearing his stupidly bright golden armour any more, but the gold chiton wasn’t much less eye-searing, and he still had golden aviators covering his eyes.

“Lord Apollo,” she gasped, snapping up straight, shoulder blades shifting back as far as they could go with her arms full.

“I’ll take him,” the god said, extending a hand towards Michael – his son, Clarisse realised, this was Michael’s father and while he hadn’t snatched Michael out of her arms, it was clear that it was an order, not a request.

Still, “he’s still alive,” she found herself saying.  “The infirmary-”

“Is overrun and exhausted,” Apollo cut her off, a serious edge to his voice that didn’t seem to fit with her previous experiences with the god.  “They can’t help him now.  Give him to me.”

Could she trust Apollo with his son?  Her own father certainly wouldn’t help her if she was that injured, gods didn’t help mortals.  But the Apollo cabin were definitely exhausted by now, the god – their father – would be right about that.

And Apollo was the god of healing.  That was why Apollo cabin were the camp healers, after all.

She held Michael out to his father.  “Help him,” she said, but it came out more a plea than an order.

His slight weight, even as a dead weight, vanished from her arms and then Michael was laying limply in Apollo’s hold instead.  “That’s what I do,” the god said, flashing her a grin made up of too-white teeth.  It didn’t last long, and she sensed rather than felt his gaze landing on the wrapped bundle still in her grip.  “You also have something for Nathan’s shroud, I see,” he commented, the words jarringly light given it was his dead son’s arm.  “I’ll leave that to you.”

With that last order – and it was an order, Clarisse wasn’t stupid enough to miss when a god was telling her to do something – he vanished in a shower of sunbeams.  When the lightshow died down, there was no sign he or Michael had been there.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the empty spot.  She had no idea how bad Michael’s condition was, if he was dying or if a single touch from Apollo would be enough to fix him, and having him whisked away so abruptly left her mind churning as it tried to work out if she’d just seen Michael for the last time.

It was Apollo, she reminded herself.  He was a god, he was Michael’s father, surely he’d fix him.

She forced herself to start moving again, changing destination from the infirmary to the shroud room.  Apollo had given her an order, after all, and it was something she could actually do.

She couldn’t heal, couldn’t fix things, but she could bring something back for the funeral.

There was more than just Nathan’s arm in the wrappings.  She knelt down beside the empty shroud (and it was empty, unlike the one next to it with the tell-tale bow shape beneath it that didn’t need to be there, but Clarisse was not on the shortlist of one allowed to touch the bow; she’d let Kayla retrieve it, if she got the news about Michael) and let not just the bitten-off arm, but also the bow fragments she’d gathered spill out of the bundle to be covered by the golden cloth.

It wasn’t a full body, but it was something, at least.

This time she didn’t run into anyone when she turned to leave, and with a deep breath she headed for the infirmary.  She had siblings in there that she ought to check in on, and now she’d seen Michael, the Apollo cabin didn’t seem quite so daunting to face.

The look on Will’s tired, drawn face when she pushed open the door was pure despair.

“What the Hades, Clarisse?” he asked, dragging himself up from where he’d been perching on the edge of a table.  He looked paler than Michael, cheeks drawn in and possibly closer to death than most of his patients, but that didn’t stop him trying to stride over to her, interrupted by staggers and stumbles.

Clarisse grabbed his shoulders and stopped him from face-planting either the floor or her chest.  “That’s my line, Solace,” she snapped back.  “Sit your ass down before you fall down.”

“You’re bleeding,” he protested, blue eyes slightly hazy but wide as they stared at her bare arms.  Clarisse followed his gaze and bit back a curse.

Her front and arms were covered in blood – all of it Michael’s, because her only wounds were small nicks from the metal on her hands.  Her sports bra, on full display after sacrificing the entirety of her t-shirt to try and stop Michael bleeding to death, had gained a few shades and a reddish hue.

“It’s not mine,” she told him firmly.

“Then whose?” he demanded, trying to resist as she pushed him back to sit down on a nearby piece of rubble but failing miserably.  He was too tired, and she was stronger than him, anyway.

Michael’s name lingered on the tip of her tongue but she swallowed it down, not confident enough that Apollo would save him to raise Will’s hopes while there was the chance they could be dashed again.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, instead, a lie because it absolutely mattered, but Will didn’t need to know that.

Will didn’t look like he could handle anything more, right then.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” she told him, turning her back and looking out across the splay of injured and exhausted demigods.

Like Apollo had said, she couldn’t see a single Apollo kid that wasn’t completely exhausted.  Will was the only one that was still on his feet – fuck, he was the oldest, Clarisse realised, finally catching sight of the four other Apollo kids that added up to the original total of eleven when combined with the shrouds.  Kayla, face still crusted with dried tears, was curled up with Austin in a corner, both of them with their eyes closed.  Sam was splayed out on the floor, next to a makeshift bed that held an equally splayed Alice, who had a blood-soaked gauze on her face.  They, too, were both completely out for the count.

Fuck, none of the five surviving Apollo kids were even fourteen.  Nathan had been fifteen, and Robyn and Joy had been similar.  Sally and Elias had both been around the same age as Will, from what Clarisse recalled of them.

Michael was almost seventeen, a few months younger than her and so much older than his surviving siblings.

She looked back at Will, whose eyes had slipped shut.  They needed him.  Clarisse might have never got on with Michael, but she knew the same wasn’t true for his siblings.

He’d been a little shit from the moment he arrived at camp, but when it came to his siblings – especially younger ones – he’d always supported them.  Clarisse didn’t want to think about how much they might have fallen apart when they’d lost him.

There was nothing she could do for the exhausted Apollo kids.  She didn’t want to leave the infirmary now that she had finally entered it, though, and Sherman and Ellis were on neighbouring blankets, both covered in bandages but watching her with half-lidded eyes.

The Apollo cabin weren’t the only ones that needed their head counsellor, and Clarisse strode over to her brothers.

They were grieving, too, the loss of Mark and Louisa a shock none of them wanted to face for all they’d known it was likely that not all of their cabin would survive if they marched to war (it was one of the reasons Clarisse had held her cabin back, too selfish to risk their lives even though it was what they were born for), and when they finally fell asleep she moved on to other injured siblings.

Hours passed.  The Apollo kids slowly started coming around again, and Will banished her briefly to at least clean up and stop getting more blood in my infirmary while Kayla fixed her with a furious glare that Clarisse accepted silently.  Chris appeared with an arm in a sling and fresh – clearly stolen – supplies and tried to get her to talk about “whatever’s bothering you,” but she shrugged him off.

The look he gave her told her the topic was only temporarily dropped, and that he would be pressing later.

Slowly, the hubbub of the infirmary started up, Apollo kids dragging themselves into new rounds of checking on the wounded.  Even Alice pulled herself up and about, despite looking like she should be in one of the beds herself, and Clarisse found herself roped into fetch and carry as Will decided if she was going to hang around the infirmary, she could be useful.

She couldn’t heal, but she could at least follow basic orders.  The help was the least the Apollo kids deserved from her.

Apollo’s sudden arrival brought the infirmary to a shocked halt.  He was still wearing his ridiculous gold shades, but that wasn’t what froze everyone in place.  Nor was the garish, gold-studded choker he’d gained since she last saw him, accentuating the otherwise plain white top and designer jeans he was rocking as though he’d come straight from a catwalk.

It was the short figure standing next to him, one arm tucked in a sling while the other had a crutch jammed under it.  He looked much better than the last time Clarisse had seen him, no sign of the blood that had covered his face and limbs, and brown eyes alert as they scanned the room.  His camp t-shirt and pants were still torn and stained, but he looked truly alive again.

“Michael!” Kayla shrieked, a green-and-orange blur as she launched herself at him.  How he didn’t fall over when she cannonballed into him, Clarisse had no idea.

The other Apollo kids started moving towards him, too, their faces a spectrum of disbelieving relief.

“You’re alive,” Will whispered, as though saying it too loudly would make it not true.

Michael’s eyes met Clarisse’s, just for a brief moment but long enough to be deliberate, before looking at his younger brother.

“Yeah,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips, although Clarisse saw him glance around again, gaze settling on each of his living siblings for a fraction of a second before his shoulders slumped a little as he clearly looked for a sixth and realised there wasn’t one.  “Sorry it took me so long to get here.”

He didn’t say anything about Clarisse, but that was fine, because Clarisse realised she didn’t want people to know.  They still weren’t friends, hunting down his dead body and finding his living body instead didn’t change that, and the idea of getting credited with saving him when if it wasn’t for her and her cowardice there might have been a few less shrouds over bodies in another room on Olympus right then felt viscerally wrong.

The five younger kids finished descending on him, burying him out of sight, and bringing attention to the fact that Apollo had disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared.  Clarisse decided it was time to leave the infirmary.

It wasn’t like there was much she could do there, anyway, and the Apollo kids had their own head counsellor to keep them from overworking themselves, now.

Somehow, Clarisse caught Michael’s eye again as she slipped out past the cabin seven huddle.  He still didn’t say anything, but his sharp gaze softened slightly and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.  It was the closest thing to a thank you she’d ever got from him – closer than anything she ever expected to get, or wanted.

She nodded back, just once, and wondered if he could tell that she was glad that he hadn’t been dead after all, that he was still alive to be a continuous thorn in her side the same way he’d been since she was nine.

Not that it mattered if he did, or at least that was what she told herself as she broke eye contact and walked away.  Their relationship wouldn’t change that easily.

Even if there was a small part of her that wished it could.

[returnofahsoka]

I don't know what you want to do with digital art so this is just broad advice, but here are my tips!

Most drawing softwares or websites give you a white background. Change that to a muted, softer, color so that your eyes don't work as much. It doesn't need to be a dark color or even a grey, even just something around this area will do wonder for your eyes:

You can always put it back in white to check that your colors look good when you're finished, just don't hurt your eyes with your screen.

2. Speaking of screen, remember all those tips about how to work at a computer without hurting your back or your neck? Use them here too. One of the perks of drawing digitally is being able to just zoom in instead of getting the face closer to the drawing, I know that's not easy to get used to but trust me good posture is important.

3. You don't need any paying software or subscription, except if you absolutely need a very specific one, which most people never do. Digital art is one of the areas where the open source community works the most, there's tons of free software and material (and tutorials! there's tutorials for everything!) everywhere! My favorite is Krita because I like its options and tools (although I keep using the same handful ^^), but even something as basic as Paint can work well, depending on what tools you expect your software to give you. If you need Photoshop, you probably heard of Photopea already, I can confirm it also works really well.

4. Drawing time! If you have a tablet that has buttons, I really recommend spending a few minutes looking through a tutorial to attach your software's keyboard shortcuts to the buttons. Personally I have buttons for: switching between pen and eraser, zooming in, zooming out, rotating the image to the left, rotating the image to the right, and grabbing the image to move it. Also the basic Ctrl+Z. I'm planning to add the fill tool on the last button soon.

5. More tablet tips: your hand will probably not glide well on the surface of it. People usually buy a drawing glove for that, I still haven't taken the time to do that so I use a bit of fabric instead. Even just the end of your sleeve will result in smoother lines on the screen.

6. Many pens are pressure-sensitive! If yours is too, you can always begin by using one of the most basic pencils in the software that don't have pressure sensitivity, and work your way up to other pencils once your hand learned how to draw this new way. There can be other settings like angle of the pencil tip or speed, but those also take time to get used to and most people find them less intuitive. But do experiment with what you've got! You should be able to change the size of the pencils, and every other setting too, so if you like some aspect of a pencil but not another, you can just disable that other one xd

7. If you're not drawing with a tablet but with a mouse... Well I take my hat off to you.

8. This one's not specific to digital art, but I find that taking a few minutes to just draw lines and circles and waves works really well to get the hand and arm used to working in a new position. I do that every time I draw for warmup, but whenever I'm at another desk I really notice how much my hand needs it to get used to the new angle. You already know how to draw, your limb(s) just need to work on the neural pathways to become familiar with the new position(s). Thankfully cerebral plasticity works fast!

thank you!!

this is all such useful advice! i'm planning on getting into digital art again (my previous forays have been historically... not too successful) bc my laptop has a touch screen, i got a digital pen and krita is free xdd. it took a bit of fiddling around to find the settings and the brushes i wanted and i still haven't figured out where the ctrl+z is but eh, we're getting there. it's so different to traditional art though omg. but it does give very satisfying results i'll have to give that. thank you again, i will keep trying!!!!!!

[milkovichrules]

tag wednesday!! thank you for the tag lovely people @heymrspatel @transmickey @abetterdaaye 🖤🖤🖤

🔤Name: river ✌️

🗺️Where in the world are you? north england

🛀do you have a favorite towel? yes I do its grey and very soft ☺️

🪨can you skip rocks? probably not lol I can barely just regularly throw things

🤔tell me about a weird slang term from your area: big innit fan over here. also just the way we will shorten words like dint (didn't) owt (anything) nowt (nothing) we're busy up here we don't have time for syllables

🍞favorite toast topping? butter or nutella but never together!! my fiance puts butter before she puts other things on the same slice as like bread lube (her term) and babe no

🍮thoughts on bread pudding? I have never tried it and been told it's not great but it always looks good when people on cooking shows make it so idk

🌆City or country living? city for sure, love to be able to go places n do things

😸How do you cheer yourself up after a bad day? been rewatching queer as folk and my god is it like a big hug...thats my family fr 🥹 watched the ep last night where debbie says to justin 'gay kids are everywhere!! only they're not all like you, cuz they're afraid to show their faces' n it made me tear up a lil I love her sm she raised me

🌗Are you a pessimist or an optimist? bit of both I guess?? usually I say well things are bad but I can't do anything about it so might as well just vibe lmao

🏷️can i tag you in random stuff? sure 🖤🖤

tagging (if you wanna, and if you've already done it ignore me lol): @jrooc @depressedstressedlemonzest @golden28s @lupeloto @m4ndysk4nkovich @softmick @miilkoviich @takeyourpillsbitchh 💕💕

[ladyeckland28]

Echoes From The Abyss

A science fiction story by Ecky

The winds howled across the barren landscape, kicking up clouds of fine grey dust that obscured the horizon. Captain Jareth Kane squinted against the relentless glare, his weathered features etched in a perpetual scowl as he surveyed the twisted, half-buried wreckage of the massive starship before them.

"Well, this is it," he growled, his voice crackling through the comm system. "The *Argonaut*. Looks like it's been here a while."

In the cramped confines of the bridge, his ragtag crew peered out at the scene, their expressions a mix of anticipation and unease. Kane had led them to many a lucrative salvage operation over the years, but there was something about this particular wreck that set their nerves on edge.

"I don't like the look of this place, Cap," Deckard, the ship's chief engineer, murmured. "Feels wrong, somehow. Not natural."

Kane grunted. "Maybe. But we didn't come all this way to turn back now. We're sitting on a fortune's worth of tech and parts in that wreck. We move fast, grab what we can, and get the hell out of here. Understood?"

The crew voiced their reluctant agreement, and Kane turned to his second-in-command, a grizzled veteran named Mara. "Assemble the scavenge teams. I want a full survey of the wreck's condition before we start cutting into her."

Mara nodded and began barking orders, her voice clipped and efficient. Within minutes, the airlock hatch irised open, and a small team of scavengers in bulky environmental suits stepped out onto the alien soil, their magnetic boots clanking against the rocky surface.

Kane watched them fan out, their lights cutting through the gloom as they approached the hulking wreck. He let out a slow, weary sigh, already feeling the familiar prickle of unease that always accompanied these salvage missions. Something about this place just didn't sit right with him.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, turning to follow his crew.

***

The inside of the *Argonaut* was a maze of twisted, broken corridors, the once-pristine metal surfaces now warped and scarred by years of neglect and the brutal impact of the crash. Gaping holes in the hull let in the eerie red-tinged light of the planet's strange sky, casting long shadows that seemed to shift and dance as the scavengers moved through the wreckage.

Deckard moved cautiously, his hands gripping the rifle he carried as a precaution. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows, but when he blinked, it was gone.

"Probably just my imagination," he muttered, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. They were here to salvage, not get spooked by ghosts.

Ahead, he could see the rest of the scavenge team fanning out, their lights sweeping over the debris-strewn floors and mangled bulkheads. Mara was barking orders, directing them to the most promising-looking areas.

Deckard took a deep breath and pressed on, his boots crunching on the scattered fragments of broken glass and twisted metal. As he rounded a corner, he froze, his eyes widening behind the visor of his suit.

"What the...?"

Before him, a strange, pulsing growth clung to the walls, its surface writhing with an alien, unnatural rhythm. Deckard stared at it, transfixed, as the substance seemed to shift and change, as if it were alive.

"Mara? You seeing this?" he called out, his voice barely above a whisper.

There was a crackle of static, then Mara's voice in his ear. "Yeah, I see it. Don't touch it. Looks like some kind of organic compound. Might be hazardous. Keep your distance and keep moving."

Deckard swallowed hard and nodded, even though Mara couldn't see him. "Roger that." He quickly continued on, putting as much distance between himself and the strange, pulsing growth as possible.

As he moved deeper into the wreck, the air grew thicker, the shadows more pronounced. Deckard couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, that there were unseen eyes tracking his every move. He found himself glancing over his shoulder more and more, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Come on, Deckard, pull it together," he muttered to himself, forcing his focus back to the task at hand. "It's just your imagination. Nothing out here but a few mutant plants and a whole lot of nothing."

But as he rounded another corner, he froze, his blood running cold. There, in the dim light, was a twisted, distorted shape, moving with a disturbing, unnatural fluidity.

Deckard's breath caught in his throat as the creature turned towards him, its features indistinct and warped, like something from a nightmare. He tried to raise his rifle, but his hands were shaking, and the weapon slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor.

The creature let out a guttural, inhuman shriek, and Deckard felt a wave of pure terror wash over him. He turned and ran, his boots pounding against the metal floor as he desperately sought the exit, his mind consumed by a primal fear.

***

Kane jerked his head up at the sound of the scream, his eyes narrowing.

"What the hell was that?"

Mara's voice crackled over the comm, tinged with a rare note of alarm. "Deckard, report! What's your status?"

There was a long, tense silence, then a panicked response. "Something... something's in here! Mara, it's not right, it's not human! I've lost my weapon, I'm heading back to the airlock!"

Kane felt a chill run down his spine. "Mara, get a team together. We're going in after him."

Mara's reply was grim. "Copy that, Cap. Move fast."

Kane turned to the remaining crew members, his expression stern. "You heard the man. Gear up and move out. We're not leaving anyone behind."

The crew scrambled to obey, their faces etched with a mix of fear and determination. Kane led the way, his own weapon held at the ready as they made their way into the twisted, shadowy wreck.

***

Deckard's lungs burned as he raced through the corridors, his heart pounding in his ears. He could still hear the creature's unearthly shriek echoing behind him, spurring him on.

"Gotta get out of here, gotta get out of here," he chanted under his breath, his vision blurring with panic.

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with one of the scavenge team members, who grabbed him by the arms, steadying him.

"Whoa, Deckard, what's going on? Where's your rifle?"

Deckard's eyes were wild, his voice shaking. "It's... it's not human, man. Something's in here, something's wrong with this place. We gotta get out, now!"

The other scavenger's eyes widened, and he quickly activated his comm. "Mara, I've got Deckard. He's spooked, says there's something in here that's not human. Request immediate extraction, over."

Mara's response was terse. "Copy that. We're on our way. Hold your position and keep an eye out."

The scavenger turned back to Deckard, his grip tightening. "You heard the lady. We're getting out of here, but you gotta keep it together, alright? Can you do that?"

Deckard nodded shakily, his gaze darting around the dimly lit corridor. "Y-yeah, yeah, I can do that. Just... get me out of here, please."

The sound of running footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Deckard felt a surge of relief as he saw Kane and the rest of the crew approaching, their weapons at the ready.

"Deckard, report," Kane barked, his eyes scanning the area.

"Something... something's in here, Cap," Deckard stammered. "I don't know what it is, but it's not human. It's not right."

Kane's expression darkened, and he turned to the rest of the crew. "Alright, listen up. We're getting out of here, but we do it together. Stick close, keep your eyes peeled, and if you see anything, shoot first and ask questions later. Understood?"

The crew voiced their agreement, and they began to make their way back towards the airlock, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence.

As they moved, Deckard couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that the very shadows seemed to shift and move with a malevolent intelligence. He tightened his grip on his weapon, his heart pounding in his chest.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air, and Deckard whirled around to see one of the scavengers being dragged into the darkness, his terrified cries abruptly cut off.

"No!" Deckard raised his weapon, firing wildly into the shadows, his aim erratic with fear.

Kane grabbed him, yanking him back. "Hold your fire, you idiot! You'll hit one of us!"

Mara's voice crackled over the comm, laced with panic. "We're under attack! Fall back to the airlock, now!"

The crew turned and ran, their boots pounding against the metal floor as they desperately sought the exit. Deckard could hear the sounds of more inhuman shrieks echoing behind them, spurring them on.

Finally, they burst out into the blinding glare of the planet's surface, the airlock hatch slamming shut behind them. Deckard collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving, as the rest of the crew gathered around, their faces pale and shaken.

Kane stepped forward, his expression grim. "What the hell happened in there?"

Deckard shook his head, his voice trembling. "I... I don't know, Cap. It wasn't human, I swear. It was... it was *wrong*, somehow. Twisted, like it wasn't even real."

Mara's brow furrowed. "Deckard, where's your rifle?"

"I... I dropped it. When I saw that *thing*, I just... I panicked." Deckard hung his head, his cheeks burning with shame.

Kane let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. "Alright, everyone back inside. We need to regroup and figure out what the hell is going on."

As they filed back into the ship, Deckard couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them, the shadows seeming to press in from all sides. He swallowed hard, a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

***

Back on the bridge, the crew huddled around the central console, their faces etched with a mix of fear and uncertainty.

"Alright, let's go over what we know," Kane said, his voice low and serious. "Deckard, you said you saw... something in there. Something that wasn't human. Can you describe it?"

Deckard shook his head, his hands trembling. "I... I don't even know how to describe it, Cap. It was *wrong*, twisted and distorted, like it wasn't even real. And the way it moved, it was..." He shuddered, the memory of that guttural, inhuman shriek sending a chill down his spine.

Mara spoke up, her brow furrowed. "Could it have been some kind of mutated animal? Or maybe a malfunctioning android?"

Deckard shook his head again. "No, it wasn't like anything I've ever seen before. It was..." He paused, searching for the right words. "It was *alive*, but not like any living thing I know."

Kane's expression grew darker. "And this thing, it attacked one of the scavenge team? Dragged him off?"

"Y-yeah, that's right. Just... grabbed him and pulled him into the shadows. We couldn't do anything to stop it." Deckard's voice cracked, the guilt and fear evident in his tone.

Kane let out a heavy sigh, his jaw clenching. "Alright. So we've got some kind of unknown threat in there, and one of our people is missing." He turned to the rest of the crew, his gaze hardening. "We can't leave him behind. We're going back in, but this time, we do it properly. Everyone suits up, grabs their best gear, and we move in as a team. No heroics, no getting separated. We find our man, and we get the hell out of here. Understood?"

The crew voiced their agreement, and they quickly set about preparing for their return to the wreck. Deckard watched them, his stomach twisting with dread. He knew they were walking into the unknown, facing something that defied all logic and reason. But he also knew that they couldn't abandon their own, not when there was still a chance to save him.

As the airlock hatch cycled open once more, Deckard took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever horrors might lie ahead. He gripped his weapon tightly, his knuckles white, and followed his crewmates back into the twisted, shadowy depths of the *Argonaut*.

***

The corridors of the *Argonaut* seemed to have grown even darker and more twisted since their last venture, the shadows pressing in from all sides. Deckard felt a shiver run down his spine, the air thick with an unsettling, charged energy.

Kane led the way, his eyes scanning the environment warily. "Stay alert, everyone. Keep your lights on and your weapons ready. We don't know what we're dealing with, so be prepared for anything."

The crew moved with a grim determination, their boots clanking against the metal floor as they made their way deeper into the wreck. Deckard couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that the very shadows seemed to shift and move with a malevolent intelligence.

Suddenly, a scream echoed through the corridor, and Deckard felt his heart leap into his throat. "That sounded like-"

"Move, move!" Kane barked, leading the charge towards the source of the sound.

They rounded a corner to find one of the scavengers, his environmental suit torn and his limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Deckard felt bile rise in his throat as he caught a glimpse of the man's terrified, contorted face.

"What the hell happened?" Mara demanded, her weapon raised and ready.

The scavenger let out a gurgling, agonized cry. "It... it's alive. The walls, the floor, it's all alive. It's-"

His words were cut off as a horrifying, writhing mass erupted from the floor, enveloping him in a tangle of thick, pulsing tendrils. Deckard watched in horror as the scavenger's struggles grew weaker, his cries muffled by the alien substance.

"Open fire!" Kane roared, his own weapon spitting a hail of bullets into the viscous, shifting mass.

The rest of the crew followed suit, the corridor erupting in a cacophony of gunfire and the agonized shrieks of the creature. But as they fired, Deckard noticed that the substance seemed to simply flow around the bullets, as if it were alive and aware of their attack.

"It's not working!" he cried out, his voice laced with panic. "The bullets, they're just-"

His words were cut off as the creature suddenly lashed out, a tendril whipping towards him with blinding speed. Deckard barely had time to react before the appendage wrapped around his leg, yanking him off his feet.

He cried out in terror as he was dragged across the floor, the creature's grip unyielding. "Help! Somebody, help me!"

Kane and the others opened fire, but their weapons seemed to have little effect. Deckard could feel the tendril tightening around his leg, the pressure building until it felt as if his bones might shatter.

Suddenly, a blast of searing heat pierced the air, and the tendril abruptly released its grip, recoiling as if in pain. Deckard looked up to see Mara, her flamethrower blazing, driving the creature back with a wall of fire.

"Move, Deckard!" she shouted, her voice muffled by her suit. "Get to the airlock, now!"

Deckard didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and ran, his heart pounding in his chest. The rest of the crew followed close behind, firing their weapons as they ran.

Deckard raced through the twisting corridors, his boots pounding against the metal floor as he fled from the horror behind them. The creature's inhuman shrieks echoed in his ears, spurring him on.

Up ahead, he could see the faint glow of the airlock hatch, a beacon of hope in the twisted, shadowy wreck. He pushed himself harder, his lungs burning, desperate to reach the safety of the *Wraith*.

As he burst through the hatch, the rest of the crew right on his heels, he turned and slammed the controls, sealing the airlock shut with a hiss of pressurized air. For a moment, there was silence, save for the ragged sound of their labored breathing.

Kane was the first to speak, his voice gruff but tinged with a rare note of concern. "Everyone alright?"

Mara nodded, her helmet obscuring her expression. "We're all here. But... we lost Jax."

Deckard felt a pang of grief and guilt. Jax had been a good man, a valued member of their crew. And now he was gone, consumed by the nightmare that lurked within the *Argonaut*.

Kane's jaw tightened, his eyes hardening. "We'll mourn him later. Right now, we need to figure out what the hell is going on and how to get off this goddamn rock."

He turned to Deckard, his gaze piercing. "You said that thing wasn't human. What did you mean by that?"

Deckard swallowed hard, his mind racing. "I... I don't know, Cap. It wasn't like any living thing I've ever seen before. It was *alive*, but not in a way that makes sense. And the way it moved, the way it attacked... it was almost *intelligent*, like it was *aware* of us."

Kane's brow furrowed. "Intelligent? You mean it was *thinking*?"

Deckard nodded shakily. "I... I think so. God, I don't know, but it wasn't just some mindless creature. There was something *wrong* with it, something *unnatural*."

Mara spoke up, her voice tense. "Could it be some kind of advanced lifeform? Maybe something the *Argonaut* was transporting?"

Kane's expression darkened. "That's what I'm worried about. If this thing is as advanced as you say, then it could be *dangerous*. We need to find out what the hell it is and how to stop it before it kills us all."

He turned to the rest of the crew, his gaze stern. "Alright, listen up. We're going to do a full sweep of the *Argonaut*, starting from the bridge and working our way down. I want to know everything there is to know about this ship, its cargo, and whatever the hell is infesting it. And for God's sake, keep your eyes peeled and your weapons ready. That *thing* is still out there, and it's not going to just let us walk away."

The crew nodded grimly, the fear palpable in the cramped confines of the airlock. Deckard felt a chill run down his spine, the memory of the creature's twisted, inhuman form seared into his mind.

As they stepped back out onto the barren, alien landscape, Deckard couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that the very air itself seemed to thrum with a malevolent energy. He tightened his grip on his weapon, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.

***

The *Argonaut*'s bridge was in shambles, the once-pristine consoles and displays now twisted and broken, their screens flickering with static. Deckard moved cautiously, his weapon raised and ready, his heart pounding in his chest.

Kane was deep in concentration, his fingers flying across the keyboard of a still-functioning console. "Alright, let's see what we can find. Mara, you and the others do a full sweep of the bridge, see if you can find anything useful."

Mara nodded, her own weapon at the ready as she led the rest of the crew in a systematic search of the room. Deckard followed, his gaze darting from one shadowy corner to the next, waiting for the slightest hint of movement.

Suddenly, a faint flickering caught his eye, and he turned to see a damaged display screen flickering to life. Curious, he moved closer, peering at the garbled, indecipherable data scrolling across the surface.

"Cap, I think I found something," he called out, his voice hushed.

Kane glanced up from the console, his brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Deckard shook his head, his expression troubled. "I'm not sure. It looks like some kind of... I don't know, *manifest* or something. But the data's all corrupted, I can't make heads or tails of it."

Kane moved to Deckard's side, his eyes narrowing as he studied the screen. "Hmm, let me take a look."

He began typing commands, his fingers swift and precise, and slowly, the jumbled data began to coalesce into a more coherent form. Deckard watched, his breath catching in his throat as the nature of the *Argonaut*'s cargo became clear.

"Oh, God..." Kane's voice was barely above a whisper, his face pale. "This... this isn't good."

Deckard felt a sense of dread wash over him. "What is it, Cap? What did you find?"

Kane turned to him, his expression grim. "According to this, the *Argonaut* was transporting some kind of experimental compound. Some sort of... *living* substance, harvested from the edge of known space."

Deckard's eyes widened. "Living? You mean, like... like what we saw in the corridors?"

Kane nodded, his jaw clenching. "Exactly. And it looks like the containment protocols failed during the crash. The substance, it... it *escaped*."

Mara, who had been listening in, let out a low, tense whistle. "So, we're dealing with some kind of alien *parasite*, then? One that's taken over this entire planet?"

Kane's gaze hardened. "Worse than that. According to these logs, the substance is *sentient*. It's not just some mindless creature, it's *intelligent*. And it's-"

He was cut off by a sudden, ear-splitting shriek that echoed through the bridge, the very walls seeming to tremble with the force of it. Deckard felt a chill run down his spine, his grip tightening on his weapon.

"Brace yourselves!" Kane yelled, his own weapon raised and ready.

The crew scattered, taking cover behind the twisted, broken consoles as the floor began to *shift*, the metal surface rippling and pulsing with an unnatural, alien rhythm.

Deckard watched in horror as a massive, writhing tendril erupted from the ground, its tip glistening with a viscous, oozing substance. The creature let out another bone-chilling shriek, and Deckard felt a wave of pure terror wash over him.

"Shoot, damn it!" Kane roared, his weapon spitting a hail of bullets at the monstrous appendage.

The rest of the crew opened fire, their weapons blazing, but the creature seemed impervious to their attacks, the bullets sinking into its flesh only to be immediately expelled.

Deckard's hands shook as he squeezed the trigger, his mind reeling with the knowledge that they were facing something far beyond their comprehension. This wasn't just some mindless beast, it was *intelligent*, *aware*, and it wanted them *dead*.

As the creature lashed out, its tendril whipping through the air with blinding speed, Deckard knew they were outmatched. They needed to get out of here, to find a way to escape this *nightmare* before it consumed them all.

"Cap, we need to go!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with fear. "We can't fight this thing, we have to-"

His words were cut off as the tendril suddenly wrapped around his leg, the grip crushing and unyielding. He cried out in pain, his weapon clattering to the floor as he was yanked off his feet.

"Deckard!" Mara's voice rang out, tinged with panic, as she opened fire on the creature, her flamethrower blazing.

But the creature seemed undeterred, its grip only tightening as it began to *pull*, dragging Deckard towards the pulsing, alien mass that had once been the floor.

Deckard struggled, his fingers clawing at the metal surface as he desperately sought to free himself. "Help me! Somebody, *please*!"

Kane was at his side in an instant, his face contorted with a fierce determination. "Hold on, Deckard!" he growled, gripping the younger man's arms and *pulling*.

The rest of the crew joined in, their combined strength straining against the creature's relentless grip. Deckard felt the pressure around his leg begin to ease, and he let out a ragged, desperate gasp.

"Almost... almost there!" Kane grunted, his muscles bulging with the effort.

But just as they were about to break free, the creature let out a *deafening* shriek, and the floor *erupted* in a surge of writhing, pulsing tendrils. Deckard watched in horror as they surged towards the crew, moving with a terrifying, unnatural fluidity.

"Get back!" Kane yelled, his grip on Deckard slipping as he and the others scrambled for cover.

Deckard felt the creature's grip tighten once more, and he let out a desperate, agonized scream as he was *dragged* into the alien mass, the world around him dissolving into a nightmare of twisting, pulsing *wrongness*.

***

Kane watched in horror as Deckard vanished into the seething, alien mass, the younger man's anguished cries echoing in his ears. He opened fire, his weapon blazing, but the bullets seemed to have no effect, the creature simply *absorbing* them.

"Mara, get the *Wraith* prepped for launch!" he yelled, his voice laced with a desperation he hadn't felt in years. "We need to get the *hell* out of here!"

Mara hesitated, her gaze darting between Kane and the swirling, pulsing mass that had once been the bridge floor. "But... Deckard-"

"There's nothing we can do for him now!" Kane snapped, his eyes wild. "We stay, we *die*. Now move, damn it!"

Mara nodded, her expression grim, and she turned to the remaining crew. "You heard the captain. Let's go!"

As they retreated, Kane spared one last, anguished look at the spot where Deckard had vanished, his heart heavy with the weight of another lost crewmate. But he knew they had no choice – they needed to escape, to get as far away from this *nightmare* as possible.

The *Wraith*'s engines roared to life, and Kane felt the familiar sensation of the ship lifting off, leaving the twisted, alien landscape behind. But as the *Argonaut* and the *echoes of the abyss* that had consumed it faded into the distance, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was far from over.

Whatever that *thing* was, it was *intelligent*, *aware*, and it had a *hunger* that could never be satisfied. And he knew, deep in his bones, that it would only be a matter of time before it came *looking* for them.

*****

The *Wraith* tore through the void of space, its engines straining as Kane pushed the ship to its limits. Behind them, the twisted, alien landscape of the planet they had so narrowly escaped receded into the distance, but the memory of the horrors they had faced there still lingered, a cold, foreboding presence in the back of their minds.

Mara stood beside Kane, her expression grim. "What the hell was that thing, Jareth?"

Kane's jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the stars streaking by. "Something... *unnatural*. Sentient, like Deckard said, and *hungry*. It wasn't just some mindless creature, it was *aware*, *intelligent*."

Mara's brow furrowed. "You think it's going to come after us?"

Kane let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know, Mara. But I'm not willing to take that chance. That *thing* nearly got us all, and it took Deckard..." His voice trailed off, the weight of their loss evident in his tone.

Mara reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find a way to stop it, Jareth. We have to."

Kane nodded, his gaze hardening. "Damn right we will. But first, we need to figure out what the hell that *thing* was, and where it came from. And I have a feeling the key to that is back on the *Argonaut*."

He turned to the rest of the crew, his expression stern. "Alright, listen up. We're heading back to the *Argonaut*, but this time, we're going in prepared. I want a full systems diagnostic, and I want to know everything there is to know about that *cargo* the ship was transporting. We need to understand what we're dealing with if we're going to have any chance of stopping it."

The crew voiced their agreement, their faces etched with a grim determination. They had faced horrors beyond their comprehension, but they were survivors, and they weren't about to let some *alien abomination* take them down without a fight.

As the *Wraith* turned and began its approach back towards the twisted, half-buried wreck of the *Argonaut*, Kane felt a chill run down his spine. He knew they were walking into the unknown, that they were facing something that defied all logic and reason. But he also knew that they had no choice.

They had to stop this *thing*, whatever the cost. For Deckard, and for the sake of their own survival.

***

The interior of the *Argonaut* was even more unsettling the second time around, the shadows seeming to press in from all sides, the air thick with an oppressive, unnatural energy. Deckard's fate still weighed heavily on the crew's minds, their footsteps cautious and their weapons at the ready.

Kane led the way, his eyes scanning the environment for any sign of the creature. "Alright, let's split up and cover as much ground as we can. I want eyes and ears on everything – any sign of that *thing*, you radio it in immediately. And for God's sake, watch each other's backs."

The crew nodded, and they fanned out, their lights cutting through the gloom as they delved deeper into the twisted, broken wreck. Mara followed close behind Kane, her expression tense.

"You really think we can stop this thing, Jareth?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kane's jaw tightened. "I don't know, Mara. But we have to try. We can't just let that *thing* roam free, not after what it did to Deckard."

Mara fell silent, her gaze downcast. She knew as well as Kane that their chances of survival were slim, that they were facing something far beyond their ability to comprehend. But she also knew that they couldn't turn back, not now.

As they rounded a corner, a flicker of movement in the shadows caught their attention, and they froze, their weapons raised and ready. Slowly, a figure emerged, its form twisted and distorted, the air around it shimmering with an unnatural energy.

Kane felt his heart leap into his throat as he recognized the creature, its features a nightmarish amalgamation of organic and inorganic elements. "Open fire!" he roared, his weapon spitting a hail of bullets at the advancing monstrosity.

Mara was right beside him, her flamethrower blazing, but the creature seemed unfazed, its movements fluid and almost *graceful* as it dodged and weaved, its very flesh rippling and shifting in response to their attacks.

"It's not working!" Mara cried, her voice laced with desperation. "We need to fall back, Jareth!"

Kane gritted his teeth, his finger tightening on the trigger. "No! We can't let this *thing* get away, not after what it did to Deckard!"

The creature let out a bone-chilling *shriek*, and suddenly, the very walls around them seemed to *come alive*, tendrils erupting from the metal surfaces and lashing out with blinding speed. Kane and Mara were forced to dive for cover, their weapons clattering to the floor as they found themselves surrounded by the pulsing, writhing mass.

"Shit!" Kane cursed, his mind racing as he searched for a way out. "Mara, we need to-"

His words were cut off as a tendril suddenly *wrapped* around his leg, the grip crushing and unyielding. He cried out in pain as he was yanked off his feet, his body slamming against the floor with a sickening *crack*.

Mara's anguished scream rang out as she watched her captain being *dragged* into the alien mass, her own weapon blazing as she fought to free him. But the creature was relentless, its tendrils spreading out, *enveloping* them both in a horrifying, pulsing cocoon.

As the world around them faded to black, Kane could feel a strange, *alien* presence in his mind, a malevolent consciousness that seemed to *burrow* into the very depths of his being. He fought against it, his mind reeling, but the creature's grip was unyielding, its hunger insatiable.

"No..." he whispered, his voice hoarse with despair. "Not... not like this..."

The darkness closed in, and Kane felt himself slipping away, his consciousness fading as the *echoes of the abyss* consumed him.

***

The *Wraith* drifted silently through the void, its engines powered down as the remaining crew huddled in the dimly lit confines of the bridge, their faces etched with a mix of fear and grim determination.

Deckard was gone, taken by the *thing* that had infested the *Argonaut*. And now, Kane and Mara had met the same fate, leaving the rest of the crew to face the horrors alone.

The young engineer, Talia, spoke up, her voice shaking. "What... what are we going to do? That *thing*, it's still out there, and it's-"

She was cut off by a sudden, faint *pulsing* sound, a rhythmic throbbing that seemed to reverberate through the very *fabric* of the ship. The crew fell silent, their eyes widening as they realized that the *thing* had followed them.

Talia's face went pale. "Oh, God... it's *tracking* us. It *knows* we're here."

The pulsing grew louder, more insistent, and the crew instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons, their hearts pounding in their chests.

"We need to get out of here, *now*," one of the other crewmen, a grizzled veteran named Briggs, growled. "Start the engines, get us as far away from this *nightmare* as possible."

Talia hesitated, her gaze darting around the bridge. "But... what about the captain? And Mara? We can't just-"

Briggs cut her off, his voice hard. "They're *gone*, Talia. And if we don't get out of here, we'll be joining them. Now start the damn engines!"

Talia swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she activated the *Wraith*'s controls. The engines roared to life, the ship lurching forward as it began to push its way through the void.

But as they fled, the pulsing *throb* grew louder, closer, and the crew could *feel* the presence of the creature, its malevolent consciousness pressing in on them from all sides.

Briggs gripped his weapon tighter, his knuckles white. "It's coming. *Get us out of here!*"

Talia's face was a mask of terror as she pushed the *Wraith* to its limits, the stars streaking by in a blur. But no matter how fast they fled, the *pulsing* was relentless, a constant, unsettling reminder that the *thing* was still *there*, still *hungry*, and it would never stop *hunting* them.

As the *Wraith* hurtled through the darkness of space, the remaining crew members huddled together, their faces etched with a fear they had never known. They had escaped the *Argonaut*, but the *echoes of the abyss* had followed them, and now, there was nowhere left to run.

*****

The *Wraith* raced through the void, its engines straining under the relentless pursuit of the entity that had infested the *Argonaut*. The pulsing, rhythmic throb that echoed through the ship's hull was a constant, unsettling reminder of the creature's presence, a malevolent consciousness that refused to be shaken.

Talia's fingers flew across the console, her face a mask of fear and determination as she pushed the ship to its limits. "It's not working, it's still gaining on us!"

Briggs gripped his weapon tightly, his knuckles white. "We need to fight back, damn it. We can't just run forever."

The other crewmembers murmured their agreement, their own weapons at the ready. They had seen the horrors that the creature was capable of, the twisted, unnatural power it wielded. But they also knew that they couldn't keep running, not if they wanted to survive.

Talia glanced back, her eyes wide. "But what can we do? Our weapons barely slowed it down back on the *Argonaut*. How are we supposed to stop something like *that*?"

Briggs' expression hardened. "We don't stop it. We *destroy* it. Whatever it takes."

He turned to the others, his voice steady and commanding. "Alright, listen up. We're going to set a trap – lure that *thing* in close, then hit it with everything we've got. Talia, you keep the engines running, be ready to get us the hell out of here the second we've got an opening."

The crew nodded, a grim determination etched on their faces. They knew the risks, the sheer *impossibility* of what they were about to attempt. But they also knew that they had no choice. It was either fight or die, and they weren't about to go down without a fight.

As Talia maneuvered the *Wraith* into position, the pulsing throb grew ever louder, the very walls of the ship seeming to *vibrate* with the creature's presence. The crew braced themselves, their weapons trained on the darkened corridors, waiting with bated breath.

Suddenly, a massive tendril *erupted* from the shadows, its glistening, oozing surface writhing with an unnatural, alien life. The crew opened fire, their weapons blazing, but the creature seemed to simply *absorb* the hail of bullets, its movements fluid and *purposeful*.

Briggs gritted his teeth, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Keep firing, damn it! Don't let up!"

The corridor erupted in a cacophony of gunfire and the creature's bone-chilling shrieks, the very air crackling with an energy that seemed to defy all logic and reason. Talia watched in horror from the bridge, her hands gripping the controls, ready to pull them to safety the moment the opportunity presented itself.

But as the crew continued their relentless assault, the creature *retaliated*, its tendrils lashing out with blinding speed. One by one, the crewmembers were *enveloped*, their anguished cries echoing through the ship before they were silenced, their very existence absorbed into the alien mass.

Briggs stood alone, his weapon empty, his face a mask of defiant rage. "You won't take me, you *bastard*!" he roared, hurling the useless weapon at the creature.

The tendril struck him with the force of a battering ram, crushing the life from his body in an instant. Talia watched, her heart pounding, as the creature *consumed* the last of her crew, the pulsing throb now a deafening, triumphant *song*.

Tears streaming down her face, Talia knew that she had no choice. She had to *run*, had to get as far away from this *nightmare* as possible. With a trembling hand, she activated the *Wraith*'s emergency thrusters, the ship lurching forward in a desperate burst of speed.

As the *Wraith* fled into the void, Talia spared one last, anguished glance at the *Argonaut*, now a distant, twisted speck in the inky blackness. The pulsing throb had faded, but she knew that the creature was still *there*, still *hungry*, its malevolent presence etched into the very fabric of the ship.

She closed her eyes, her hands gripping the controls with white-knuckled intensity. She didn't know where she was going, or if she would even make it. All she knew was that she had to *escape*, to put as much distance between herself and the *echoes of the abyss* as possible.

As the *Wraith* hurtled through the darkness, Talia felt a chill run down her spine, the memory of the creature's twisted, alien form forever seared into her mind. She knew that it would never stop *hunting*, that it would continue to *spread*, devouring everything in its path.

And as the ship sailed on, Talia couldn't help but wonder if she was the only one left, the sole survivor of a nightmare that had consumed her friends, her comrades, and her very way of life.

The *echoes of the abyss* had claimed them all, and now, she was all that remained. Alone, adrift in the vast, unforgiving expanse of space, with no safe harbor in sight.

[ca-suffit]

Saying it was "fucked up" doesn't necessarily mean Louis is a fucked up person, but that the situation is fucked up? The degrees might change, but I think we're all systematically taught to accept some really dysfunctional - sometimes even abusive and dangerous - things as normal. And guys in general are taught to be cold, tough, dominant. Everything else is a sign of weakness. If things are already bad enough nowadays, with the porn industry and everything, I can imagine how it was for someone+

raised in the late 1800s or centuries before that. I think it's put all these men in situations that weren't good for them. Technically, Louis had only had one real relationship before Armand. Everything else were probably things with women as a cover-up, escapades with guys and drunk hookups. Which was unfair for him too, because he deserved to be himself and know true intimacy without shame or a drink. But that's what internalized homophobia and Catholic guilt can do to people. And he stayed + in that mindset until his 30s and getting with Lestat. That was the first taste of a real intimacy and relationship he had in his life, ever. And when it ended tragically because of Lestat's violence against him, Louis toughed it up for self-protection, which is understandable and also, because, technically he isn't that experienced in relationships (as a human or as a vampire) and hasn't fully unlearned the toxic masculinity patterns he was conditioned to. Same goes to Armand. He wants love, +

but he doesn't really know how to give or receive it. So many years as a sex slave do that to a person. He ends up looking for a maître figure and submission, which is fucked up, but what he knows. And Louis falls into the dominant role because he doesn't know that differently either. It's not the same thing it was with Marius, though. Armand is not Louis' slave, Louis is not aggressive, it's not abuse, it is consensual sex, but is it good, right sex? Are they really connecting and achieving +

full pleasure and intimacy? I don't think so. Which is a tough thing to think about, specially in a fandom so obsessed with making someone the good guy or the bad guy all the time. This isn't that, it's just a bad situation. I see it as two people of the same age incredibly wasted to consent anything having sex, or two teenagers deciding to lose their virginity not exactly because they want to, but because of the social pressure to lose their v-card, or a gay man dating a woman, because he's +

trying to convert to heterosexuality, faking orgasm even when you know you could be honest to the other person, but just because it feels "weird" not to or a rape survivor having consensual sex, but in the middle of penetration they get triggered and have a breakdown even though their partner stopped immediately... I wouldn't call it abuse, but it is fucked up. There's abuse, but there's also consensual sex and romantic relationships that are dysfunctional. And I think it's that way for both +

Armand and Louis. I don't blame either of them, they both just needed to heal from different situations they were put into. And if therapy was a real option for them, maybe they could've benefited from it and have a wonderful relationship. That's my take on it. And personally, I think the conversation about racism and sexual abuse in this fandom isn't ideal at all, specially for fans that are both people of color and have sexual trauma. For a show that deals with these topics, we should at +

least have a safe space to talk about race, sex and/or abuse in all its shapes and forms, because not all situations are black and white, good guy vs. bad guy, sometimes things are in the grey area and you just have different types of victims.

[bluntblade]

It's a relatively small thing, but I think I'd feel much more confident about the Ahsoka show if it looked different.

I understand why Rogue One's look has become the default look in live-action SW, at least the shows (to the point that The Acolyte having a different aesthetic is a moderate talking point). It's a great-looking film which is probably the Disney one that people agree on most as good (I have reservations but sure, I like it a lot). And yeah, it makes a decent amount of sense to have Mando adopt that look, while with Andor, it fits like a glove.

But leaving aside the fact that a large part of R1's visual appeal is that Edwards and Greig Fraser are both great at shooting scale (with the shows inherently operating on a considerably smaller scale), the thing is that R1 looks pretty different to prior Star Wars films. There's a reason for that. Jyn and Cassian are much lower-key characters than our usual heroes in the setting (and to be clear, this isn't a judgement of whether anyone's a good or bad character) and the whole idea of their struggle is that it's about the Rebel boots on the ground, the heroes behind the heroes.

Is Ahsoka really that? In a way, yes, but it's also set to be a show about larger-than-life characters, one a Jedi and the other a Mandalorian renegade who paints anything within reach, including her own armour, and of course the third-biggest war criminal droid of the era (Chopper might have the biggest body count but he bows to BT-1 and Triple-0 when it comes to sheer sociopathy). They have adventures with space whales, discover the World Between Worlds and encounter oddball wizard beings who speak with the voice of Tom Baker and laugh in the face of Thrawn. There's a reason they benefited from the exaggerated designs and colourful, kinetic presentation of an animated show (and comics, especially the excellent Kanan two-parter).

And an explicitly toned-down realist style kind of pushes against that vibe. The MCU and the current slew of Disney remakes show this off a whole lot - they generally feature larger-than-life characters but skew hard towards realism, as opposed to creating a heightened reality (see Pacific Rim or Mad Max: Fury Road) where those big personalities would feel more at home. Heck, other Star Wars films do that - there's a reason The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi went for bright, vibrant colours (and why Steve Yedlin brought that soulful expressiveness to TLJ in particular). Without it you tend to end up with an odd disjunct where things feel... a bit dull.

In a smaller way, I think we've already seen that with Kenobi, aside from the general trouble that show seems to have had in the area of cinematography. That show often ended up just rather bland - Tatooine is largely pale grey, while the Fortress Inquisitorius and Vader's castle come off more dingy than true halls of darkness.

To be clear, I'm really hoping that Ahsoka Tano gets a good show, and that I'm proven wrong on the visual front. But I worry that we're looking at another SW show which (leaving the whole Volume thing and its constraints aside) opts for an ill-fitting default look, instead of embracing how diverse Star Wars stories can be.