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lesdemonium · 4 years

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romtober day 7: misunderstandings

Rating: M Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 4319 Summary: Cirilla's new nanny, Mister Julian, is her favorite person in the whole world. Geralt's new boyfriend, Jaskier, is pretty high up there as well. No one realizes they might be the same person.

AKA: the nanny/parent au written by a nanny

a MASSIVE thank you for betaing to @boppinrobin. y’all have them to thank for how romantic this wound up being.

read on ao3

“Mister Julian says that the things we learn in school are very important but it’s also important to learn things outside of school. Like about rainbows. Did you know that any time light… ref… refracts it can make a rainbow? Like through windows or… or… Daddy, do you know what refracts means?”

Geralt hummed a little as he and Ciri walked. He thought that answer was enough, until his five year old pulled impatiently at his hand and Geralt looked down to see her frowning at him.

“I do,” he said, nodding a little. “Do you know? Do you want to tell me?”

“I do!” Ciri insisted proudly. She let go of Geralt’s hand now that they were inside their building and she ran to the elevator to make sure she could press the button first. When the button lit up, she gave Geralt a devilish smile and he pretended to be disappointed that he couldn’t hit the button first, much to her delight. “It’s okay, Daddy. Maybe next time. I’m just too fast.”

“You are,” Geralt agreed. He nudged her into the now-open elevator. “Didn’t you want to tell me what refract means?”

“Yes! Mister Julian told me all about it! It’s when something makes light change directions! Like… like water! Or windows!” Ciri was literally bouncing in her excitement to share her knowledge and Geralt found himself grinning down at her, just before leading them both to the door to their condo.

“It sounds like you’re learning a lot of really cool things from Mister Julian,” Geralt said. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside.

“Mister Julian is the best. He’s the smartest guy in the whole wide world!”

Ciri attempted to drop her things--backpack, coat, art project and all--onto the floor, only to be stopped by a chiding look from Geralt. She huffed dramatically and picked it all back up and put her belongings back where they went. Geralt offered a quick “Thank you, Ciri,” but she had already moved on to go play in her room until dinner.

Dinner, of course, was filled with chatter about nothing but Mister Julian, but Geralt couldn’t bring himself to be bothered. It was nice that she enjoyed her new nanny at Yennefer’s. By the end of the meal, Geralt was pretty sure he wanted to meet Mister Julian.

Geralt thought it had to be a new level of pathetic to be stood up by your own brother, and yet here he was. He wouldn’t have necessarily chosen this bar for himself, but now that he was here, he figured he might as well order a drink, even if Lambert was a dick who didn’t bother to show up. Only a quick “something came up” text and some shitty joke about maybe Geralt could find someone to pull the stick out of his ass for him. Prick.

Geralt was halfway into his drink when someone sat beside him. He didn't bother to look--he was pretty sure the stranger was just trying to order a drink--until he felt the other’s shoulder knock against his.

“I’d love to give you a pickup line, but I get the feeling that wouldn’t go very far with you,” blue eyes said.

Turned out, the rest of him was just as beautiful as his eyes. Given the line the man had already paid him, Geralt felt no shame in letting his gaze drag over his company’s body, and Geralt had to admit he liked what he saw. The curve of his lips screamed mischief, and the cut of his shirt betrayed a deceptively muscular chest. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total bust.

“Perceptive,” Geralt answered, taking a long drink of his beer. His eyebrow raised as he met Jaskier’s eye again, and Jaskier straightened up as he settled into the stool beside Geralt.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man said, and motioned at the bartender. He ordered quickly, then turned his attention wholly back to Geralt. “So, does this statuesque masculinity come with a name, or do you prefer to brood your way to recognition?”

“Geralt,” he answered with a smirk. Geralt was pretty sure he had never been made fun of so quickly into what he was almost certain would become a hookup. He quite liked it.

“Geralt, the man of few words,” Jaskier grinned. He received his drink, and held it up, looking pointedly at Geralt’s beer until Geralt clinked the glass together in a wordless cheers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The pleasure, it turned out, was all Geralt’s. If Jaskier was bothered by carrying the conversation, he certainly didn’t show it. He seemed to even have a knack for pulling information out of Geralt efficiently, between stories. Geralt didn’t learn too much about Jaskier’s personal life--he didn’t think he would--but it only took a few minutes into their conversation for him to realize that he might like to.

From the moment he laid hands on Jaskier--in the privacy of Geralt’s own condo, as neither one of them was particularly keen on giving any unassuming strangers even a tame show--he felt indisputable chemistry. They didn’t have to discuss much to understand that they were on the same page about, well, everything. Even how they both liked to kiss, or the way they liked to be touched. It wasn’t magic, it wasn’t perfect, and Geralt definitely had his hands shoved away from somewhere Jaskier apparently did not enjoy being touched, but it was about as close to electrifying as Geralt had ever gotten with a new partner.

“Jesus,” Jaskier panted as his head hit the pillow.

Geralt snorted into Jaskier’s sweat-sheened shoulder, but he had to agree.

When Geralt woke to find Jaskier still in his bed, starfishing and completely unbothered by another body, Geralt was surprised. Pleasantly surprised, but still surprised. He sat up slowly and made his way to the bathroom, and by the time he came back, Jaskier was sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I swear I normally don't do sleepovers without at least discussing it first,” Jaskier said, smiling sheepishly at Geralt. “Apparently you wore me out.”

“Apparently I did,” Geralt answered, shrugging. “It’s fine. Do you want breakfast? I can make eggs.”

Jaskier watched him for a moment, with a cautious smile, then nodded. “Breakfast sounds incredible.”

Nearly an hour later, they both were fed, dressed (though Jaskier scrunched up his nose at rewearing last night’s wrinkled outfit), and Jaskier leaned forward into the kitchen table, staring at Geralt.

“Would it be bold of me to request a repeat performance?” Jaskier asked. “Maybe even a meal that isn’t immediately following an accidental sleepover?”

Geralt hesitated a moment. He wanted to, more than anything, but.

“I have to let you know,” Geralt started, “so you can make a fully informed decision. I have a daughter. A five-year-old.”

Jaskier grinned, then bent down, disappearing beneath the table. Geralt watched, his head tilting as he puzzled out this bizarre reaction, and then Jaskier sat back up, a pink stuffed bunny in his hand.

“You mean to tell me this isn’t yours?” Jaskier asked, his voice affronted, though he was still grinning and even managed to wink at Geralt.

“His name is Mr. Bun and he’s part of the family,” Geralt said, with a smile in return.

Jaskier left that morning with the clothes he had worn the night previously, a full belly, and Geralt’s number entered into his phone and a promise that, yes, they could try for dinner next time. Geralt found himself feeling almost as if he needed to thank Lambert for being a prick. He wouldn’t, though.

“You’re looking cheerier than usual,” Yennefer said as Geralt stepped back to let her inside.

“Ciri, your mom’s here!” Geralt called. “Do you have your bag ready?”

There was a bang from behind Ciri’s door, one that Geralt absolutely did not want to ask about, before she called back, “Yes! I just forgot something!” Geralt was pretty sure she was lying and that he should say something about that, but it didn’t seem like a battle worth waging when packing her bag was already going to take her time.

“Going to explain, or should I start guessing?” Yennefer asked, smirking at him. “Hm… there was a sale on ugly combat boots and you picked up a few dozen more?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Surely you could do better than that. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch,” he teased.

“Haven’t lost my touch, simply want you to get to the point. What has you looking so pleased?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow, and even if Geralt wanted to deflect, he knew from the set of her shoulders Yennefer wasn’t going to just let it go. There was no need for him to, though.

“I have a date tonight.”

“You do? Well, tell me about them? What’s so great about this date that made you pawn off your daughter a night early?”

“You asked to have Ciri early. She’ll think you’re serious if she overhears you,” Geralt frowned. Yennefer waved an insistent hand back. “His name is Jaskier.”

“Mommy!” Ciri called, bounding out of her room and running straight into Yennefer’s arms. Yennefer spun her around once before setting her feet back on the ground, and Ciri grinned up at her. “Is Mister Julian coming to see me this week?”

“Of course he is,” Yennefer answered, nodding at her. “He’ll pick you up from school on Monday.”

“Good.” Ciri’s voice contained every ounce of seriousness in the world, and Geralt had to bite back his laugh. Ciri did not like thinking that Geralt was laughing at her. Not that he blamed her. “I have something very important to tell him.”

“And what’s that?”

“Hippos make pink slime instead of using sunscreen!”

Yennefer’s nose scrunched up and she glanced at Geralt, who shrugged.

“We spent this weekend looking up facts to tell Mister Julian. She picked that one,” Geralt answered.

“That is fascinating and adequately disgusting. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Yennefer took Ciri’s hand and her bag, which she slung over her shoulder. “Say bye to your dad, Ciri. We need to run.” She pointed a finger on her free hand at Geralt. “I expect to hear all about your weekend when you come pick her up.”

It wasn’t until their fifth date that Geralt took Jaskier home again.

Coming back for a hookup was one thing; usually people Geralt brought home left as soon as they caught their breath and never came back. Going on an actual date with someone, though, was different. Bringing someone he was actively dating into the home Geralt shared with his daughter was a whole other level that had to be handled extremely carefully. And slowly.

Luckily, Jaskier understood.

“It’s been so long, I almost forgot where you lived,” Jaskier said, grinning as Geralt opened the door for him. “I’m flattered I’m being invited back. I must be doing something right.”

Geralt snorted, then backed up to let Jaskier back into the condo. Jaskier followed after him, only to crowd Geralt against the door and bring him in for a kiss. Geralt’s arms wound around Jaskier’s middle, turning them both so he could close the door behind them, lest they give Geralt’s neighbors an unintended show.

“A lot of things right,” Geralt answered once they pulled away, and he lived for the way Jaskier beamed at him.

“Did you know,” Jaskier said conversationally, over the dinner Geralt had cooked for them, “that your daughter and my charge are the same age?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at Jaskier and finished his bite. Jaskier didn’t often volunteer information about his charge. Geralt hadn’t pressed, of course, after Jaskier mentioned his job as a nanny on their first official date, and then followed up with “For confidentiality reasons, I can’t tell you much about her, but she is just the best.”

“I thought you didn’t talk about your charge with people you were dating,” Geralt answered. He put down his fork, as he was finished with his meal, and rested his hand on Jaskier’s leg.

“I don’t, but I would consider it, a bit, with a boyfriend,” Jaskier answered, and his hand hovered above Geralt’s, just barely avoiding contact. Though his tone was as even and nonchalant as possible, and he shrugged his shoulders, Jaskier wouldn’t look at Geralt; he was nervous. “And, well. I figured it might give you permission to talk about your daughter. And know that you’re not going to scare me off if you do.”

“Hmm,” Geralt said. He captured Jaskier’s still-hovering hand and entwined their fingers. Geralt waited until Jaskier met his eye again, then smiled. “I suppose telling my boyfriend about my daughter makes sense.”

“I’m just wondering what sort of name Jaskier is, anyway,” Yennefer said.

Geralt rolled his eyes and gave her an exasperated look, but Yen only grinned wickedly back.

“It’s a stage name, and a nickname,” Geralt answered, shrugging.

“A nickname for what?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t told me and I haven’t asked.”

“You’ve been dating this guy for, what, three months now, and you don’t even know his name?” Yennefer sounded incredulous.

“I know his name. It’s Jaskier. “ Geralt smirked, and Yennefer looked likely to hit him.

She hadn’t given Geralt even the tiniest bit of rest about it all since Geralt had admitted that he and Jaskier were serious over a month ago, but Geralt found himself less and less bothered by it. She had made it clear that she simply wanted to meet him, and that was her goal with all this teasing, but Geralt wasn’t ready. Yennefer meeting Jaskier likely meant Ciri meeting Jaskier, and though he knew he was serious, he felt they needed quite a bit more stability before his five-year-old was brought into the picture. Jaskier seemed to agree, if his lack of pressing about it was anything to go off of.

“Do you even know his last name?” Yennefer asked.

“I do. But I’m not telling you. You don’t need to internet stalk him.”

“Oh, but I so love being nosey.”

Geralt snorted, then turned to the bright patter of Ciri’s feet running to him and jumping in his arms. He caught her, and lifted her up in a bear hug. “Ready to go?” he asked. Ciri nodded enthusiastically.

“Did you ask Mister Julian if he’s free Friday?” Geralt asked, turning back to Yen and holding out his hand for Ciri’s bag, which Yennefer passed to him.

“Sorry, he said he was busy,” Yennefer answered with a sympathetic grimace.

“Someday I’ll meet Ciri’s favorite person in the whole world,” Geralt said. He slung the bag over his arm and put Ciri down, instead taking her hand. “That’s fine. How’s a night at Grandpa’s then?”

Ciri’s eyes grew comically large. “Yes! Last time we had unicorn pancakes! For dinner!” she said.

Geralt very much did not want to know what unicorn pancakes were, or just how much of a sugarbomb they contained. Instead of asking, he waved at Yen and took Ciri back home.

Geralt could feel himself drifting. He shouldn’t let himself, he knew, but it was hard not to when he was wrapped up in his warm bed, still shaking off sleep, and Jaskier was lightly tracing patterns on Geralt’s bare chest. There were things he had to do, like clean up after their date night, and go pick Ciri up from Vesemir’s, but Geralt figured there wasn’t much harm in letting himself have this moment. He hummed, to let Jaskier know he was awake. Hopefully he’d not let Geralt drift off again.

“Morning,” Jaskier said. His voice wasn’t a whisper, but it was a near thing.

“Since when do you wake up before me?” Geralt asked. With great effort, he opened an eye to look at Jaskier, who was smiling down at Geralt, his head propped up with his elbow.

“I wouldn’t get used to it,” Jaskier answered. He continued trailing his fingers along Geralt’s chest. “I’m sure next time you’ll have to chase me out when I inevitably oversleep and your daughter’s on her way home.”

Geralt hummed and caught Jaskier’s hand, then pressed his lips to Jaskier’s fingers. Though the light streaming in from the window was entirely too bright, Geralt found he didn’t mind. Jaskier was haloed in the soft light.

“Maybe sometime you can meet her,” Geralt said.

Jaskier grinned and leaned in to press a kiss to Geralt’s collarbone. “I’d love to. When you’re both ready,” he said. He lifted his head again, then paused, before pressing a slow, sweet kiss to Geralt’s lips.

“Hmm, yeah, it’s official,” Jaskier said as he pulled back.

Geralt furrowed his eyebrows as he reached out to card his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “What’s official?”

“That I love you,” Jaskier said.

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just thrown Geralt completely for a loop and left him boneless. Jaskier sounded so sure, so honest, and he was beaming down at Geralt.

“Is that so?” Geralt finally answered, his mouth dry.

Jaskier’s face did not dampen, not even a little, as he nodded. “It is. I know because I still felt that way when I kissed you, morning breath and all.”

Geralt snorted and pushed himself up to sit. He still held Jaskier’s hand, and he pressed a kiss to his palm--to spare him from any further morning breath--then let go and stood up. Jaskier sat up, too, and was looking at Geralt with such a look of adoration, that Geralt felt himself flushing under the attention as he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

The escape helped clear his head. After his teeth were brushed, he left the bathroom to find Jaskier getting dressed, pulling a new outfit from the drawer Geralt had cleared out for him. They smiled at each other, then switched, Jaskier brushing his teeth and Geralt getting dressed.

It was so easy, that Geralt found himself a bit floored. It had been slow, and Geralt hadn’t truly noticed, but in the warm shock of Jaskier’s confession, he noticed there were little reminders of Jaskier everywhere: the clothes in the drawer, Jaskier’s toothbrush in Geralt’s bathroom. The pictures from the photobooth of the two of them sitting on Geralt’s nightstand.

Geralt returned to the bathroom and leaned against the doorway. Geralt watched, silently, as Jaskier finished brushing his teeth, then grinned at Geralt.

“Don’t tell me you’re kicking me out already. I woke up early for you! I thought we could go to brunch. Maybe do an early six-month anniversary thing, since I’m working on our actual anniversary.” Jaskier paused to let out a nervous laugh and card his fingers through his hair. “Monthiversary? Whatever. Six months is a big deal, okay, I promise I’ll let you off the hook for other month markers, but six months is a big deal.”

“I love you, too,” Geralt said. He reached out a hand and Jaskier allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Jaskier’s body sagged in relief against Geralt and Geralt held him all the tighter for it. This was right. Geralt hadn’t felt this sure about anything in a long time.

“How would you feel about Jaskier meeting Ciri?” Geralt asked as soon as Yennefer opened the door.

Yennefer paused for a moment, blinking.

“I hate when you do that. Next time can you greet me before bombarding me with big questions?” Yennefer asked, frowning at him.

“Hi Yen,” Geralt answered, nodding a little. He supposed that was fair. “How has your week been? I wanted to chat about this before Ciri comes down. So she doesn’t get excited or think it’s happening if you say no.”

“Well, I appreciate that.” Yennefer let out an audible breath, then gestured for Geralt to come inside. “So, things are pretty serious with him, then?”

“Yes. We’ve been together nine months.”

Yennefer put her hands on her hips and regarded Geralt for a moment. “You’ve been seeing this guy almost a year, and you’re just now considering having him meet Ciri? Jesus, Geralt. I guess we’re all lucky you didn’t wait until a marriage proposal before any of us got to know him.”

“I can’t consider marrying anyone that Ciri hasn’t signed off on,” Geralt answered, shrugging.

“You are the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met. Yes, absolutely, have this guy that’s been in your life for almost an entire year meet Ciri, I give you permission.” Yen’s eyes rolled as she crossed her arms. “I get to meet him after. Before Lambert and Eskel.”

“Agreed,” Geralt said. He thought about sticking out his hand to shake Yennefer’s and seal the deal, but he figured now wasn’t the time to incur Yennefer’s wrath.

Geralt was nervous. In fact, nervous didn’t even begin to describe Geralt at this precise moment. Geralt had a feeling Jaskier was probably just as nervous, if not moreso, judging by how quiet he had been all day on the phone. No social media posts, only a couple clarifying questions about the plan for tonight to Geralt, and otherwise completely silent. It helped, if Geralt was being honest. That meant Jaskier knew how big of a deal this was, just as much as Geralt did. If Ciri didn’t like Jaskier--well. Geralt just had to trust that was impossible.

When he heard the knock, Geralt startled. He opened the door to find Jaskier standing there, looking sheepish and gorgeous.

“Ciri? Jaskier’s here,” Geralt said. He reached out a hand for Jaskier, who gladly took it and stepped inside.

Geralt was still turned toward the door, closing it, as Ciri’s steps turned from walking to an all out sprint toward them.

“Mister Julian!” she yelled as she jumped into his--thankfully, just barely ready--arms. Jaskier looked bewildered, and like he was still processing the girl now in his arms. Ciri pulled back and pressed her palms to Jaskier’s cheeks. “I didn’t know you were coming to my dad’s! You didn’t say you were coming over!”

“I...I didn’t know,” Jaskier answered. He bent to put her back on the ground, just a bit too fast to be intentional, but Ciri was delighted by the move. Jaskier then wrung his hands together, but Geralt could still see that they were shaking.

“Julian? You’re Mister Julian?” Geralt asked. He couldn’t process this. He felt dizzy and thrown and suddenly very uncertain of what he should do with his hands.

“Julian’s my first name,” Jaskier answered. Geralt could see the blush creeping along Jaskier’s face. “Since it’s on my driver’s license and easier to say, that’s the name I use. You’re Cirilla’s dad?”

“Dad,” Ciri whined, and when Geralt looked to her she had the most disapproving frown Geralt had ever seen on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re friends with Mister Julian? You said we don’t keep secrets!”

“You’re right,” Geralt agreed. He hesitated a moment, then ran his fingers through her hair. “I didn’t know I was keeping a secret, it was an accident. I call Mister Julian ‘Jaskier.’”

Ciri turned her now very suspicious frown on Jaskier. “Were you keeping a secret? You didn’t tell me you’re my dad’s boyfriend.”

Jaskier laughed and shook his head helplessly. “Trust me, sweetheart. I had no idea. Apparently your dad and I are too good at keeping you safe.”

Ciri seemed to accept that answer, because she shrugged, then ran off to the kitchen as if nothing had happened. Jaskier, however, wheeled on Geralt the moment she turned her back.

“You were married to Yennefer?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes,” Geralt answered. Jaskier let out an incredulous bark of laughter and Geralt placed a hand on the small of his back--trying to steady them both. “We divorced just after we adopted Ciri. How did you not connect her name?”

“I thought maybe you were both inspired by Apple products! Who was I to judge?” Jaskier threw his hands up. A moment later, one landed heavily on Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt could still just barely feel that hand tremble. “And I don’t call her Ciri! She wanted me to call her Cirilla. I never connected--” He laughed again, shaky and disbelieving. “Oh my god, this does not help nanny stereotypes.”

“At least we know she already likes you?” Geralt offered.

Jaskier gasped, his free hand covering his mouth. He glanced at the kitchen, and by the time he looked back at Geralt, his entire face had crinkled into a broad smile. Jaskier took Geralt’s hand between both of his own and pressed Geralt’s knuckles to his lips, and now Geralt could feel Jaskier’s grin.

“She does,” Jaskier said, sounding as wet as his eyes were. “She does like me!”

Relief washed over Geralt as he really considered what this meant. The hardest part and biggest potential barrier to the future of their relationship had already been crossed before it was even a question. Geralt was not looking forward to how much Yen was going to laugh at him, but he wasn’t worried about their future anymore. Ciri loved Jaskier as much as Geralt did. Everything would be okay.

Geralt pulled his hand from Jaskier’s hold to cup Jaskier’s face and bring him in for a kiss. Somehow, they had managed to do this right. Somehow, they were being rewarded.

“Are we having dinner, or what, lazy boneses?” Ciri called from the kitchen.

Jaskier pulled away to laugh, and Geralt had to capture the mischievous smile Jaskier gave him in another kiss. This time, when Jaskier pulled away, his eyes were soft and his hand was warm as he pulled Geralt to the kitchen.

“Coming, lazy bones?” Jaskier asked, as if Geralt wouldn’t follow him anywhere.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #gerlion #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier au #geraskier modern au #my writing #romtober #pls reblog this like #i'm so freaking proud of it lmao

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visionsofus · 3 years

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Hi! Just wanted to say that i'm living for you scarlet vision fanfic right now, they give me so much happiness and relief and they are so well-written that i'm re-reading them daily. I just wanted to ask if it's possible to have maybe If You Ever Come Back by The Script. I think that this will fit very well with our favourite synthezoid and witch.

Thank you again and please continue writing about them! Cheers and stay safe

hello! thank you so much for reading and reaching out with this song - it was perfect! I really hope you continue reading and enjoying this series ❤️ I hope you have a lovely morning/evening and are staying safe

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

track #9: If You Ever Come Back by The Script

synopsis: Wanda and Vision recall an argument that forced them to go their separate ways in the early days of their relationship post-CW. Upon finding out Wanda is near the Compound Vision can't help himself and seeks her out to apologise. (Happy resolution)

Wanda had only meant to draw one circle around New Jersey but in her distraction had kept the ballpoint moving in continuous circles so that it was now an unrecognisable big blue scribble.

“Wanda, present please,” Natasha said waving her hand in front of Wanda’s distant eyes.

“Sorry,” she murmured, instead starting to flip the pen nimbly about her fingers.

“As I was saying,” Steve said from where he was braced above the map of the US they had spread out. “We can’t afford any more international travel for a bit, not after Sam was spotted in Venice last week.”

Sam Wilson raised his hands in defence. “Hey, I was actually being very careful, it’s not my fault my fan club spans nations.”

“Regardless, no more international travel,” Steve said looking at them sternly in turn, “Wanda that means you too, no European rendezvous with Vision for the next two months.”

The ballpoint clattered onto the table before them, and Wanda watched it role miserably away. Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly and she could only imagine the looks that she was giving Steve. The pair seemed to be able to communicate most things through very specific glares. Right now, Wanda guessed Nat was giving him a look that said something along the lines of ‘shut up why are you bringing her ex into the conversation?’.

“Uhm,” Steve said slowly, “right yes, no international stuff so all in the US right now. That means we’re going to be moving around a little more frequently to keep out of any states with large security presences.”

“So for now,” Natasha continued on, “that means New Jersey, big things happening in California with old Chitauri tech so we’re staying as far away as possible.”

“We could help,” Wanda spoke up. “That stuff is right up our alley.”

“We can’t help if we’re imprisoned and I doubt they’ll let us out as easily a second time,” Sam pointed out and Steve nodded in agreement.

“I know you want to help,” Nat said putting an assuring hand on Wanda’s arm, “but the most we can do right now is stay far away. We’d be putting the others at risk by being there.”

The Others, code for those ex-teammates they didn’t like to mention despite the fact that they were all still on contact. Nat with Tony, Steve with T’Challa and well, up until a month ago, Wanda with Vision.

“Safe houses have been arranged for all of us, separately, so we don’t draw attention.”

Wanda sighed audibly, she hated the separate placements, hated the loneliness.

“It’ll only be for a few weeks,” Nat assured them as Steve handed out envelopes with their assigned houses, addresses, keys, the lot.

Standing up to get her things ready and make to leave the current safe house, Wanda was stopped by Natasha when she tried to leave the room.

“Wanda,” Nat said, her eyes concerned.

“I already know what you are going to say, and yes I am fine.”

“I don’t believe you though,” Nat said crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Well, it’s not really my job to convince you,” Wanda said making to sidestep her.

“I’ve seen how you’ve been for the last month, you’re going to burn out at this pace. It couldn’t hurt to slow down and actually think about what happened between you two.”

Wanda shook her head wordlessly.

“I know it’s difficult but there’s no way you can move on if you don’t address it.”

“What if I don’t want to move on?” Wanda asked, frustrated at herself for how easily her accent burst forth.

Nat looked at her sadly, but not with pity, Wanda knew that there was genuine worry behind that gaze. Still, it didn’t make her feel any less crappy. “Look, thinking about it, thinking about him still hurts so I’d just rather not talk about it.”

“You still don’t want me to pass your whereabouts onto him?”

Wanda shook her head and finally succeeded in getting past Nat and into the corridor, where she sped walked to her room and set about gathering her things before she could be coaxed into another ‘let’s all talk about our feelings’ session.

Admittedly there was a part of her that wished Natasha would pass on her location to Vision, even if it was only just to see whether he would actually show up. But Wanda had made Nat promise not to reveal where she was staying in the past month, at least not until Wanda was ready for that. Vision was an addiction she needed to kick, and constantly reminding herself of him or thinking about the chance of a reunion certainly wasn’t going to help.

“Vision I need you on and concentrating ok? Not away with the fairies,” Tony Stark said from where he stood at the front of the board meeting table.

“Apologies, I am present and involved,” Vision said shaking his head slightly to clear his mind, a mannerism he had picked up recently.

“As I was saying, two days from now we’re heading over West to deal with the Chitauri tech that is now a burning pile of shit thanks to—”

Vision didn’t mean to zone out again, but it was so easy to take a backseat in such conversations when he had the assurance that his brain would keep track of anything important Tony said. Lately he had been wishing that his brain was human, or at the very least that it wouldn’t move so fast so that he might be able to get a bit of peace and quiet.

His thoughts were always on her, Vision just couldn’t help it. At home he was always scouring the internet, dreading the moment he might see her name pop up on news feeds as it had with Sam’s the previous week. When he was away for work there was always a small part of his brain filtering through local security cameras, half hopeful that he would catch a glimpse of her somewhere nearby. She was a constant distraction, and it was becoming one of the many things making him seriously doubt the decision he had made those long weeks earlier. Which was strange because that decision had been a logical, rational answer to their problem, it had been a preventative measure for heartbreak. So why was his heart still hurting?

It had been six months since the events in Germany had divided the team he had come to know as friends. The absence of those who had brought such life to the compound had been noticed immediately. But it was Wanda whose absence he struggled with most, both while she was imprisoned and after Captain Rogers had broken her out.

Vision had gotten by on snippets of information fed to him through Natasha, to Tony and then finally to him. He had a suspicion that Stark had known exactly what he was doing in given that information to him. Sometimes it was mentioning which city their old teammates had been in the previous week, other times it was switching off the old school radio in his office just in time for Vision to hear Natasha’s voice crackling from it. Eventually, Vision had gathered enough pieces of the puzzle that he was able to track which radio frequencies they had been using to communicate with each other. He’d listened long enough to discover where Wanda was going to be next and showed up unannounced, despite the danger, despite the bridges burnt between them and the different paths they were on. But Wanda had welcomed him into her arms without hesitation and it had become clear that their connection was still there, as strong as ever. One thing had led to another and before he knew it, he was making time to travel and see her every few weeks. She usually chose Europe, and he was happy to see the world, if it was with her.

Their last trip hadn’t gone so well. They’d nearly gotten caught because Vision had slipped up on his way out of their rental property one morning, forgetting to glamour himself and letting someone get a photo of him. It had been circulating the internet and local media before Vision could stop the spread. Thankfully, Tony had a press release ready to go for this exact situation and made it clear that Vision was acting strictly within the limits of the Accords. It could have gone a lot worse, but it had also made several things clear to him. Their argument after the incident had been bad, to say the least.

“Isn’t it better we stop now before it hurts us both?” Vision cried after half an hour spent arguing over who ought to leave the apartment first. The damage was done on his side so if Vision was seen again it wouldn’t matter, but if Wanda was seen in the same city, he could kiss his currently peaceful relationship with the UN goodbye. On the other hand, if anyone decided to look too closely at his whereabouts of the last few days, Wanda would be discovered, and he didn’t know what he would do. The idea of her getting caught and imprisoned again was sickening.

The argument had got them nowhere. Each was too concerned about the other. He wanted her to leave, regardless of the risk this posed to himself, meanwhile Wanda wanted him to leave before he got caught with her and a target was placed on his back as well.

In the end the decision had to be made.

“It already hurts,” she’d yelled back at him, her eyes telling Vision all he needed to know.

“I cannot keep putting you at risk like this.”

“I am not asking you to!” She’d turned her head skyward in frustration. “This is worth it for me. You don’t get to make this decision for both of us!”

“I am making this decision,” Vision said his voice thick with emotion, walking backwards to the door, “and I am deciding to leave, before neither of us can.”

He’d hovered at the door, coat in hand but she’d already turned away to look out the window, watching rain drizzle dismally outside.

“Then go.”

He’d checked hundreds of radio frequencies in the weeks since, but had never caught them again, figuring that the four must have changed communication tactics since. It didn’t stop him from using the burner number that Tony had given him to reach Natasha. He was sure his messages were getting through, but there was never a reply. He supposed he was not really owed anything considering he was the one who had walked out. It didn’t matter that he’d regretted his decision ever since. Wanda didn’t know that he’d missed two trains all because he couldn’t bring himself to take the next, more final step away from her and everything they had been together.

Back in reality Tony had come to the end of his debrief and had ended the call they’d been on with various other officials related to managing the presence of super-humans in the country.

“When are we leaving on Thursday?” Vision asked, a hopeless attempt at pretending he’d been listening properly.

“Iam leaving on Thursday afternoon; you are staying here.”

Vision was stumped. “Why?”

“Because you are in no state to be heading out on a potentially sensitive mission right now, you could barely pull yourself together for a meeting, Vision.”

Tony sighed with such disappointment that Vision regretted being so absent the last few weeks. He’d been sure to be there as much as he could after the team had disbanded, allowing Tony to delegate to him when needed. But this last month he’d let things slide more than he’d realised, Tony looked tired.

“I’d like to disagree with your decision,” Vision began, standing as Tony made to leave the room, “but I cannot help but think you’re right. If I could just have the weekend to reassess my priorities, I would be back to regular working capacity by Monday.”

“And I want to say I believe you,” Tony said leading the way back through the compound. “But you don’t have a good track record with this particular type of distraction.”

Vision hovered by the front door with his head hung in shame. He heard the beeping of Tony unlocking his car and the soft hiss of air as the door opened automatically.

“She’s in New Jersey this week.”

Vision paused on his closing of the front door.

“I thought you should know,” Tony said rubbing at his chin as he paused by the car, “Address is 22 Steel street, don’t get caught.”

Wanda hated how much America reminded her of Vision now. That was why she was thinking about him so much – it was definitely New Jersey’s fault. It was the proximity to the upstate Compound that had her thinking of him so often. It had to be.

They were done, Vision had made that so very clear the last time she had seen him. But it hadn’t stopped her staying another few days at the house they had rented together in some desperate attempt to come to terms with yet another person leaving her life. At least he was still out there, living a life just not with her.

She pressed her palms into the kitchen bench and took a deep breath. She was halfway through washing up the dishes from the day, but she’d already slipped and broken one glass by accident and was on the verge of giving up. It was frustrating. Wanda could control other people’s minds with ease. She hadn’t had reason to in a while but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel that dormant aspect of her power waiting to be used. So how come she couldn’t manage her own mind? Why was she grieving the loss of someone still alive?

Wanda knew that Steve and Nat had struggled to understand what she had with Vision, and it didn’t help that she herself struggled to put it into words. They hadn’t labelled themselves in the months since they started stealing moments together, it had all been to see if there was something more there. Something worth pursuing. And well, Wanda had thought they were on the same page but evidently, she’d been wrong. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe that those feelings weren’t real. Hope was a pain in the ass.

And she supposed her alertness these past few days could be owed to him as well. Of course, there was the general haze of fear to consider, the fear that one of these days a SWAT team would arrive at her door to take her back to prison. But on the other side of that coin, she knew there was a fraction of her that was listening out for him. It was painful, knowing he was so close. It didn’t stop her listening out for him, for his soft footsteps, his steady breathing, for the comforting presence of him and the way their minds called out to each other. Even before they’d started meeting like this, he had always been the first one she looked for in a fight, the first person her eyes fell on when she walked in a room, the one person she always wanted to have in her corner.

She paused the absentminded drying of a plate and realised that the imagined footsteps outside weren’t in her head. There was most definitely someone walking up and down the creaky floorboards of the run-down townhouse she’d been assigned to for the two weeks. She’d picked the floorboards out as her first warning if any unwanted guests stopped by the property, probably followed by the breaking of the two locks in the front door.

The closer she listened the more she could hear weight shifting and creaking wood.

Wanda crept through the still unfamiliar house, out of the kitchen and down the dim hallway to the door. As she approached the pacing paused and she distinctly heard a fist rapping on the wooden door three times.

She rose on her toes to peer through the peep hole. A familiar figure was standing on the porch with a head of neat, sandy hair and a carefully pressed blue shirt. Her hand flew to her mouth to hide the exclamation of surprise threatening to come forth. She dropped her hand quickly and stepped back, subconsciously reaching out and letting her magic unlock the door, sending it swinging open.

Wanda didn’t really know what to say as Vision turned around at the sound of the door creaking open. She simply stood there looking at him, fearful that she was imagining things and that he wasn’t really here. She tilted her head in question.

“Mr Stark told me you were here,” Vision said quietly, glancing over his shoulder as though worried someone might be watching them, but the street at his back was deserted. “I’m sorry for just showing up out of the blue.”

Wanda folded her arms, wrapping her cardigan further around herself against the night chill from outside. A deeper cold was spreading through her at the unnatural tension between them, even as she fought the urge to step forward and embrace him. “And why are you here?” She asked instead.

“I made a mistake, and I’d like to fix it.”

“How?”

“I’d like to start by talking, if you wouldn’t mind me coming in?”

Wanda bit her lip hesitantly but knew she couldn’t keep him waiting out on the doorstep. She stepped to the side and nodded for him to come in.

Wanda led him to the kitchen and settled herself opposite the table, so she could lean with the comforting pressure of the kitchen bench at her back.

She watched his eyes flicker about as he entered the space, taking in the washing in the sink, the bread open on the counter and the remains of her supper littered here and there. She suddenly wished she’d finished cleaning quicker. Wanda saw a lot in his gaze, knowing from months of meeting up as a fugitive that he was concerned about how well she was eating on the run. His gaze turned to her next, taking in her clothes, her face, the distinct bags under her eyes and Wanda couldn’t help but soften her stance, unfolding her arms but maintaining the distance she needed.

Vision had dropped his human glamour as soon as he entered the house and she watched as he now stood before her, hardly believing it was real.

“I will not attempt to make excuses, I owe you more than that,” Vision said after a beat seemingly to collect himself. She was unnerved by his unwavering eye contact but met him head on.

“I was wrong. I thought that putting space between us was the right thing to do but I regretted that as soon as I left you standing there. I have regretted it every day since. I know that I was afraid, afraid of what we might become if I didn’t stop things where they were.” He paused for breath. “It wasn’t until I sat on the train that I realised the idea of living a life without you hurt more than I could bear. Perhaps that makes me selfish, wanting to keep meeting up and putting you at risk. But it is the truth. And if I could change things, if I could go back, I would behave differently.”

Wanda felt her breath loose out over her lips, a quiet sigh of relief.

“I would have told you all this the day after I left if I knew how I might reach you. I’m sorry.”

Wanda swallowed, taking a breath to think about what he had said. There was little to think about, she had forgiven Vision the moment she realised it was him standing on her porch. Learning now that he had tried to reach out for her in the past few weeks, something she hadn’t dared hope, and that she had stubbornly not let him in hurt more than she’d expected it to. They’d both made mistakes.

“As much as I hated being left like that, I understand why you did,” Wanda said earnestly.

“I was a fool,” Vision said shaking his head shamefully.

“That makes two of us.” Wanda smiled softly at him.

“I never could have stayed away,” he admitted, gesturing restlessly with his hands.

“I should have let you in sooner.”

Vision wasn’t often hesitant, but he paused before his next words. “Can you forgive me?” He stepped forward as he spoke.

This movement was all the invitation Wanda needed and she pulled away from the bench as he drew closer. They met each other in the middle, his arms coming around her waist, her hands sliding over his shoulders in a hug. They swayed for a moment, relishing the closeness.

“Forgiven,” she murmured to him, though she was sure the hug said it clearer. “No going back,” she added, considering making a joke about cold feet.

“I can’t help but think this was inevitable,” he said quietly from where his chin was pressed to her shoulder, his breath ruffling her hair. “That no matter the bridges we burnt, or how our paths changed, you were always going to be my future.” She hugged him tighter.

“But we need rules from now on,” Wanda said drawing back a little so she could see his face clearly, “like not getting photographed by tourists.”

“I will never live that down, will I?” Vision groaned but smiled nonetheless.

“Never,” she whispered, scrunching her nose at him affectionately, then growing more serious, “please don’t leave me again.”

“Never,” he promised pressing his forehead to hers in understanding.

#wandavision #Wandavision fanfiction #scarletvision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #visionsofusfics #break up make up fic #soft scarletvision

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xxrainstormxx · 4 years

Text

Save it for the Doctor. Spencer Reid x Reader.

(A/N: this is based off a writing prompt. "You're... beautiful." "And you're concussed") Word count; 2,475 Part 2 (edit: my pleas for requests for stories are not reaching people so I will beg here. If you want a oneshot I’ll write it. Prompt or no prompt.)

I had heard a lot about the recent murders. I even had seen a few almost survivors on my mom's operation table, yet somehow I was wrapped up in the middle of it. Smack in the middle. No normal citizen even knew the FBI was investigating the murders and yet I was being interrogated. The man who sat in front of me was just mean, he wore a serious look and his eyes never moved from the narrow eyed glare he gave anyone who walked by and especially gave me. I was happy to cooperate, but the minute I was under fire I was fed up and wanted a lawyer. I was no killer, I had no upper body strength to move a dead body and believe me, I would know how much a dead body weighs thanks to my mom training me. I was a tired college student trying to get my damn degree so I could move on with my fucking life. And I was not in the mood to be interrogated when I could be working on my thesis. The mean man, Agent Hotchner I believe was just staring. I guess waiting for me to break or some shit like that? I don't know. I wasn't talking first. I didn't care anymore and this resulted in a match of silently staring waiting for the other one to speak. This went on for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to at least three minutes, I just sighed, "I cave." I sighed muttering curses as I shifted in my seat. "Go on, ask your questions I have a thesis to write and I would like to go home to continue it," I reluctantly urged on. He leaned forward in triumph I think as he demanded answers from me. "Where were you the night of Synthia Robbin's disappearance (Y/N)?" he began dwelling on the poor girls name. It made me frown, she was a 13 year old girl, a child, and she was gone. Kidnapped and found dead. It made me sick to think of what could happen to her. "So that's what this is about?" I hissed disgusted with the accusation "I was at the library with Emmalin." the mention of my sister's name made him further darken. "Your sister, correct?" he inquired. I rolled my eyes, "Yuduh" I sounded sitting back. "All your time is accounted for?" he continued leaving me puzzled for a moment. "There were maybe ten minutes in between where she left to find a book." I murmured unsure if the truth was the right thing to say as he stood and pulled out a file and threw it on the table making me flinch. "What about the night of Chris Bennidict?" he asked "A s-sports game" I stuttered "A baseball game I think. Rockies vs Rangers." I said shaking a little as he threw down that files some of the pictures falling out of the boy, shot twice. "Eunice Quiet, Quiara Basson, Basen Unice, Lynch Gryse, and Philip Jence!" he got louder with every file he threw at me. "You were near by every single scene and you fit most of our profile" he concluded the pictures that fell out made me physically sick. Children, those poor babies. I sobbed and turned away gagging, he wasn't convinced it was real but I knew it was and up came the vomit that was caught in my throat.

I had no doubt I fit their profile but I worked part time at a daycare. Children were my life line, and it mad me sick to see them hurt. He answered a call and left the room leaving me there to cry over the pictures. A brunette woman walked in and sighed taking me out of the handcuffs attaching me to the bolted down table. "Come on sweetheart. We'll get someone to clean up that." she sighed very tired, I wanted to know why. They brought me out to the main area of the station and sat me down. They slowly cuffed me to the desk and I cried softly. I looked across the station to see Emmalin "Emmy!" I called but was ignored causing me to frown. So I shut up and listen to whatever raving was in my defense, "My baby sib? A murderer?" she asked "well... it isn't that hard to believe," she said making my jaw drop. "They've always been a little too obsessed with the idea of death." A lie, I had an emo phase and so did she, "Introverted" well partially true. "and well she creeps out her friends," she finished causing me to stand suddenly, "Liar!" I shouted "You fucking liar!" I cried ignoring the pain and stress on my wrist the hand cuff was causing. I was now a 45 degree angle due to the cuffs keeping me in place. She seemed genuinely shocked i was there. "Why are you trying to pin this on me. Your own sister!b You were with me everywhere we went and those bodies were found. Why aren't you being questioned too? Did you lie? Did you say I was the only one there?" I screamed as I was sat down. She hissed at me and most of the agents took notice. Agent Prentiss, the nice brunette sighed and walked to my now horrible sister and asked her to follow her into a different interrogation room. It felt like hours that I was sat there, and a curly haired man was sat in front of me just reading, or what I thought was faking, really bad faking. "Why are you even sitting here if you're just going to pretend to read?" I asked the "doctor". My mother was a doctor and I didn't believe this boy was any kind of doctor. I had gotten to know his name as Doctor Reid and I wasn't allowed to call him an agent so I had no other choice. He just looked at me thrown for a moment before shaking his head "I'm not pretending" He stated as he shifted "No one can read that fuckin fast ya damn liar" I muttered not necessarily hostile just a little vexed. "I can. Did you know that our unconscious minds can process sixteen bits of information per second? Our conscious minds, however, can process sixteen million?" I sat back unimpressed "You are... absolutely insane" I laughed "Insane, perhaps but I'm not being accused of murder." he stated, and my smile that i worked so hard to get disappeared "You think I did it too." I muttered, it was meant to come as a question but instead it came as a statement. He shook his head "Not fully, while you do supposedly fit the profile our profile, our unsub wouldn't inject themselves into the investigation. The one part that doesn't fit" he said sitting back and crossing his legs turning to the board filled with evidence, and all those pictures that made me sick sat right next to the happy photos of the children in their school uniforms smiling big. I tried to focus on those "Well maybe your profile is wrong, cause this is sick." I hissed "(Y/N), you're here most likely because you were in the wrong places at the wrong times. Kids being picked up and murdered minutes apart from each other, while you were out with your sister at those locations? It's not very probable."

I just sighed knowing he was probably right "There aren't many coincidences when it comes to murder" he stated "Out of uh... curiosity what is an unsub? No normal person knows that is." I muttered as I tried to avoid the board, the thought of being in those places, not helping those kids, not even having a clue what was happening made me sick. "Unknown Subject" Dr. Reid said mumbling "Why aren't you uh... looking at the board. I thought you'd be proud of your work." He said as if to egg me on. I rolled my eyes "Those pictures make me sick." I muttered "I work at a daycare, it's my job to protect kids not watch them get hurt. I don't wanna see dead fucking children!" I shouted realizing I probably sounded fucking crazy and definitely like a kill. I hung my head in shame. "I know... I know it isn't fair to blame myself for what happened to those kids, but being in the places of the crime, the same night it happened, it makes me feel like I could have and should have done something. Something other than just sit there and wonder." I whispered "Yeah I feel guilty now but, not of what you think" I whispered looking to the board once more focusing on the pictures of the children when they were alive. "Sweet innocent babies... Never done anything to anyone. Probably were crying for their mom." I whimpered at the thought "They didn't deserve any of what happened" I looked away once more thinking about the mothers. "Moms.... Their moms" he stood up as if he had a damn epiphany nearly knocking me backwards in the chair. "Morgan, it's not an attack on the children it's an attack on their mothers." He said starting to put of pictures of older women. "think about it. They all went to the same cafe every day. It wasn't the day care, so it can't be (Y/N). They wouldn't see much of the parents" he enthused writing things down that I could not decipher because his hand writing was absolute shit. "But wouldn't that just give them more reason? They think these women are bad mom's for working instead of taking care of the child, and wants to teach them a lesson?" making him shake his head "That's stupid, if they wanted to make them suffer they'd just kill the women themselves, it'd be much more efficient and wouldn't lead to them doing the one thing they would dread doing!" he said circling one name on the board. Emmalin. "That's also sexist. Women work, children can't go with. Why would I have a fucking problem with that" I shouted across the room. "Who fits the profile while also holding these sexist values." Reid stated more than asked pointing to Emma's name again. "Oh dear god." he sighed "But my sister isn't a murderer!" I cried. "She's connected to the murders... and she's made it clear she doesn't think women should work." Morgan stated and went to the interrogation room. "You are a life saver (Y/N)" Reid said kissing my cheek out of pure joy, and I slapped him as a natural instinct and turned red "Shit! I'm sorry! I'm not used to boys doing that if they aren't being creepy! But at the same time that was really fucking creepy" I yelped as he held his face and laughed "No it's fine. Got too excited to fix what felt like a huge mistake." he said, and when I say I turned red I mean red. This was the first time I'd seen him as a human. Not a super genius, not as an agent, not an asshole. Just a normal guy with pretty eyes, a good jaw line, soft hair, and the sweetest smile I had ever seen. The blush was apparently very clear on my (skin color) skin because he hummed and smiled "Did you know blushing is speculated to be caused by a sudden rush of adrenaline making our blood pump faster." I giggled a little "Is that why you're so flushed?" I asked as he blinked not understanding just how damn pink he was after that rant. "Guess so." he shrugged. the door opened and out came Emmalin and she grabbed a ceramic vase off a desk and slammed it down onto Reid's head and ran away quickly. He fell to the floor because it was a heavy fucking vase, and I freaked out as he hit his head on the desk on the way down.

"Shit!" I yelled as half of them chased my very obviously guilty sister and I sat in shock as two of his friends rushed over to help him. Morgan uncuffed me and I blinked "Spencer?" Agent Jareau asked worried and I sat down next to him sitting him up and grabbing a water bottle slashing it on his face "Do not fall asleep." I said firmly "You could very well have a concussion." I said as an ambulance arrived quickly, he was cearly not feeling good because of the way that he was acting. I was worried about how sick he looked. He threw up half way to the hospital so I was told. I went with because I didn't feel safe with my sister on the run and an Agent in the hospital. Well I guess he wasn't an agent he was a doctor. The doctor, not Spencer, came out and i stood with the other two very worried. "He'll be fine. He has a mild concussion." as i thought "but he's awake, and on some pain medication. I take it you all know the situation and his limitations in the field?" he asked and Morgon and Jareau nodded "You can go back to see him now" he said and stepped aside "come on" Jareau said quietly to me "oh. Agent, I don't think he'd want to see me." I said quietly. "I'm sure he would like to know you came. You won't make a very good profiler if you can't even tell that Reid enjoys your company. And call me JJ, it makes it easier," she said giggling and pulled me right back with her and Morgan. "Hey man" Morgan started "What happened?" he muttered groaning in pain. "You got hit with a vase, took a pretty sweet fall, and got a concussion" JJ hummed arms crossed as she leaned on the wall. "Shit." he muttered making me giggle. "Oh hey!" he said when he saw me. "I want water, and jello" he muttered making small lip smacking sounds. "Morgan and I will get it" JJ laughed leaving me in a very awkward situation. "So umm.." I began before being cut off. "You know.. You're beautiful" he said staring at me causing me to snort "And you're concussed." I laughed shaking my head "Well, a concussion based on the severity doesn't necessarily affect your judgement of a person especially if it's a first time thing. I thought you were beautiful long before I was concussed but you were a suspect. Suspects being beautiful, hard to comprehend sometimes." I laughed "You're a dumbass" I snorted "But I-" he blinked and i walked over pecking his lips. "How about a date sometime? I'll give you my number" I said quietly. "Yeah... okay..." he whispered. "A date."

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot #part two?

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440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

Oh, Baby!

Dean exited the restaurant with the take-out order, whistling as he walked to the Impala. He placed the bag on the passenger side of the front seat and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life, then settled into a gentle purr as he pulled away from the curb and started for home.

Since it was a gorgeous spring day, Dean had left the windows open while he waited for the food order. The weather was still cooperating, so he kept them down as he drove. In between songs on the radio, he heard a noise coming from the back seat. It startled him so much that he nearly lost control of the Impala. He pulled over to the side of the road to gather his thoughts and turned around to see what exactly made the noise.

"What the hell?!? A baby?? What is a baby doing in the back seat of my Baby?!?" he shouted as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Yeah, Dean, what's up?" answered Sam. "There's a WHAT in the back seat of your car?!?" exclaimed Sam. You were passing by the map table when you heard Sam's end of the conversation. You gave him a puzzled look, then relaxed as he held up his index finger to indicate he would tell you in a minute. "Just come on home, Dean, we'll figure it out when you get here. Over and out," Sam finished.

"What's going on, Sam?" you asked.

Sam nervously rubbed his forehead, not knowing how to begin to explain. "So get this. Dean was coming home with our food order from the restaurant. He was on his way back when he heard a noise coming from the back seat. He swerved and nearly lost control, but managed to get pulled over. He looked and saw a baby carrier and a baby in the back seat of the Impala."

"A baby?!? Ooh, is it a boy or a girl?" you asked, completely unfazed and a little excited.

"Really? After everything I just said, that's your only question?" Sam was still a little freaked out.

"I don't really see this as a problem, Sam. In my pre-hunting days, I used to babysit a lot in the neighborhood. Always thought about having a baby of my own someday...." you trailed off, a faraway look crossing your face. "I think I hear the Impala now," you said, bringing you back to reality.

Dean came down the spiral staircase, baby carrier in hand. You rushed to meet him, eager to get a look at the baby. "Here, can you please take her? I have to go back to the car and get our food order," Dean groaned.

"Absolutely, I'll take care of this," you assured him. As you walked away, Dean stared after you to see how you were going to deal with the situation.

You set the baby carrier down on a table in the library and pressed the buttons to move the handle out of the way. The baby had strawberry blond hair and the bluest eyes you'd ever seen, next to Castiel's eyes. She was wearing a pink onesie with baby blue jeans and little blue tennis shoes. Tears sprang to your eyes as you thought she was the most beautiful baby you'd ever seen.

You lifted her out of the carrier and set her on your shoulder. You noticed there was a note tucked into the side of the baby carrier. You unfolded it and read aloud.

To whomever may find this note:

This is my baby, Mackenzie Ann. I can no longer care for her, as my life is in danger just due to her being born. She is a very special baby, one who has an important future ahead of her. Please do whatever you must to protect her at all costs. I wish that I could do so, but I know that you will take good care of her.

Signed,

A Grateful but Heartbroken Mother

Tears filled your eyes and by the time you had finished reading the letter, Dean had brought the food everyone had ordered. "Was there a bag or backpack of any kind, something with baby supplies in it?" you asked him.

Dean shook his head. "Nope, just the kid," he responded.

"Her name is Mackenzie Ann, not 'the kid'," you informed him. "Well, if there's no bag or any baby supplies, I'll have to go back to town and get some things," you remarked.

"Wh-wh-whoa, you can't just leave the baby here! Sam and I don't know what to do," Dean sputtered.

"You also have no idea what to get, either. Relax, Dean. You boys can handle things for an hour or so," you replied with a wink. "I'll be back as soon as I can," you assured them.

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

You zoomed back to town to the pharmacy for some baby supplies. Diapers, wipes, bottles, formula, a baby thermometer, pacifiers and even a cute stuffed teddy bear went into your cart. After the pharmacy, you went to the thrift store for some baby clothes and linens.

Your phone rang, so you fished it out of your pocket and checked the Caller ID. Dean. "What's going on, Dean? I'm still in town," you remarked.

"You have to hurry up and get back! This kid is non-stop crying! When will you be back?"

You checked your watch. "Dean, it's only been half an hour! I'll be done shortly, then I'll buzz right back," you promised as you hung up the phone. After purchasing some baby outfits and blankets at the thrift store, you put all of the bags in your car and headed back to the bunker.

Sam met you at the bottom of the stairs, holding the baby straight out in front of him. "Here, you can deal with her now. I'll get the rest of the stuff out of the car," he said as he traded you Mackenzie for the bags you brought in.

As soon as you made eye contact with her, Mackenzie seemed to calm down. You found the bag from the pharmacy that contained the diapers and wipes. After changing her diaper, you mixed a bottle of formula, settled into a rocking recliner and fed her. Once the feeding was completed, you sat holding Mackenzie, trying to get her to sleep. You gently rocked her until her eyes slowly drifted closed.

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

Dean was walking through the main living area and noticed you and Mackenzie in the recliner. By this time, your eyes were also closed. A soft smile came over Dean's face as he gazed at the figures in the recliner. Sam also noticed you as he caught up to Dean, the same smile crossing his face.

"Kinda cute, huh?" Sam asked as he motioned to you and Mackenzie.

"Yeah. She seems like she knows what she's doing, too," Dean remarked.

"She wasn't even freaked out that you were bringing home a baby, she was really excited. She said that she used to babysit a lot in her pre-hunting days. That, and...." Sam trailed off.

"And what?" Dean asked.

"Well, before you got home, she said something about wanting to have a baby of her own someday," Sam explained.

"From the looks of it, she'd make a great mom," Dean murmured. He walked over to the recliner, knelt down by the arm rest and gazed up at you. He reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, causing you to stir.

"Dean? What are you doing?" you asked sleepily.

He nervously cleared his throat as he stood up. "Just checking to see if the kid was really asleep or faking it," he muttered.

"She is definitely asleep. By the way, what are we doing about a bed for her? I didn't know how long she'd be staying, so I didn't even look at getting a crib," you explained.

"That's okay. Me and Sam took some pillows and blankets, and put them inside an old footlocker we found in one of the many rooms in this place. Don't worry, we took the lid off, so it's all good to go," he confirmed.

You nodded and slowly rose from the chair, putting Mackenzie on your shoulder and taking care not to disturb her. You followed Dean to his room where the makeshift crib was set up and placed the baby inside on her back. You were so caught up in watching her sleep, that you didn't notice Dean had come up behind you. At first, he placed his hands on your shoulders, then moved them down to settle on your sides.

You leaned back into Dean, then turned around in his arms. "What?" you asked.

"Watching you with her....you're so good at this. You really seem to know what you're doing. Sam told me that you used to babysit before you got into hunting," Dean remarked.

"It was my first job, how I first earned spending money," you explained.

"Have you ever thought about having kids of your own?" Dean asked.

You thought for a minute before answering. "Maybe someday. If I met the right person, it might be a possibility," you said softly. "But this life we lead....not really 'family friendly', and not exactly conducive to long-term relationships, you know? So, I'll have to make the most of the time we have with this little one." You gave him a quick smile before casting your eyes downward.

"Hey," he said gently. He put his finger under your chin and tilted your face upward to look into your eyes. "You're going to make a wonderful mom someday. Any kid would be lucky to have you as a mom, just like any guy would be lucky to...." he drifted off. He reached up to brush your cheek with the back of his hand. Dean leaned in and your lips met in a soft, tender kiss.

You pulled back a little to study his face, then dove back in to crash your mouth to his, moving in perfect harmony. His lips left your mouth to trail a series of fiery kisses across your cheeks. Then he kissed along your neck to the place where it met your collarbone. Once there, he took small nips at the skin, leaving his mark.

When you broke apart, you were both fighting to catch your breath. "I had no idea you felt this way, Dean," you started. "I know I've had these feelings for some time now, but thought you only ever wanted to be friends," you remarked.

"Ever since I brought Mackenzie into the bunker, I've been seeing you a little differently. Like seeing a 'future you', happily married to someone, with a family. Then I realized those are things I want someday also, and that I want to be the one to give that to you. You've been with Sam and me for nearly ten years. I don't know how I've gone this long without realizing how I felt about you," he finished.

"I guess it's better late than never, Mr. Winchester," you grinned. "Quick question: why did you put the crib in here instead of in my room?" you asked.

"Because this is where we had the tools for taking off the lid, and it's where we put the crib together. That, and I felt like she shouldn't be too far away, in case she wakes up in the middle of the night," he answered. "And maybe I was going to try and convince you that you needed to sleep here tonight. With me. No funny business, just wanted the feel of you waking up in my arms."

"Well, I guess I'd better get into my pajamas, then, hmm?" you replied. "I'll be right back," you promised as you lightly brushed his lips with yours.

By the time you had returned to his room, Dean had already changed into his sleeping attire and was under the blankets. You were dressed in teddy bear pajama pants and a rock band T-shirt you had once borrowed from Dean. He held the blankets up for you to slide in, patting the space next to him. You took one last look at Mackenzie, kissed her forehead, then got into bed.

Dean curled his arm around your midsection and drew you closer to him. He nuzzled your neck, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he said softly. A few minutes later, you heard his deep, even breathing, telling you that he had already fallen asleep. "Goodnight, my love," you whispered.

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

Weeks went by, with no word on any missing babies matching Mackenzie's description. You had just changed her diaper and you were getting ready to feed her, when out of the blue, Castiel paid you a visit. When he arrived, he had an extremely determined look on his face. As soon as he saw Mackenzie, he marched over to you.

"Where did you get this child?" he demanded.

Your arms tightened a bit around Mackenzie. "Dean found her in the back seat of the Impala several weeks ago," you answered, immediately on your guard.

"This child does not belong here. She has an important future ahead of her, and being here puts her in danger," Cas explained.

"There was a note with her that said something about that. What's the deal, Cas?" you asked, still being cautious.

"This child is a prophet of the Lord," Cas revealed. "She cannot be here. I must take her to live with the family who has already been chosen to raise her. They will ensure her protection until it is her turn to serve as prophet," he said as he moved to take the baby from you.

"NO. I don't care what she is, you can't have her," you retorted as you stepped away from Cas and called out for Dean.

"Sweetheart? What's going on? What are you doing here, Cas?" Dean asked as he came out of the kitchen.

"He's trying to take Mackenzie away from us! He says she's a prophet of the Lord and that being here isn't safe. He wants to place her with another family who will protect her until she is called to serve," you explained, tears now streaming down your cheeks.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, Love," he said as he put his arms around you both. "Cas? What's going on?" Dean asked again.

"It has been determined that this child is a prophet and as such, must be kept safe at all costs. A family has already been chosen and she must go to them now," Cas explained.

"This bunker is supposed to be warded, so she is protected here. Please, Cas. Don't take her, not just yet," you pleaded.

Castiel was silent for a few moments, staring off into the distance. He was getting a message from "Angel Radio". "I can give you three days. On the evening of the third day, this child must go to her chosen family. I am sorry," he offered.

You nodded. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand. Thank you, Cas," you replied. You walked over to the recliner and sat down with Mackenzie.

Dean and Cas watched as you fed Mackenzie. At one point, she started to get fussy, but after a few soothing words from you, she calmed down to finish feeding.

"I can sense that she has developed a rather strong bond with the child," Cas remarked. "I wish that I did not have to be the one to break it."

"She's amazing with Mackenzie, and it brought the two of us together. It's given me hope of one day having a family. I can definitely see the two of us having kids in the future. A kid would be lucky to have her as a mom," Dean added.

"And you as a father," Cas said. "I'm glad that the two of you found each other, and that you're happy together."

Dean and Cas looked over at you and Mackenzie sitting in the recliner, both of you asleep. As Dean reached down and picked up the baby, you stirred awake, a little panicked. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm going to take her into our room and put her into her crib," he explained.

"I'll be in shortly, my love. Thank you," you said as you yawned.

Dean toted the sleeping Mackenzie on his shoulder, his hand rubbing circles on her back as he walked. You picked up the empty baby bottle and took it to the kitchen to rinse it out. Castiel followed you. "Castiel, is there something you wanted?" you asked testily.

"No, nothing. Only that I again offer my apologies for having to take the baby away. I can tell you have formed a strong connection to her," he replied sadly.

"Yeah, well, unfortunately it's not enough, is it Cas? I will always treasure the time I had with her, though. Excuse me," you said in a choked voice. You went off to Dean's room, which you now shared and began to change into your sleeping attire.

On the evening of the third day, Cas gave you the address for the family that would be raising Mackenzie Ann as their own and ensuring her safety. You put her in the back seat of the Impala with you so that you could spend as much time as possible with her.

When you arrived at the farmhouse, Castiel was waiting by the door, with a man and his wife. They looked to be in their early 30's, the man was dressed in coveralls, probably due to his job of running the farm. His wife was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, and they both had kind faces.

You brought Mackenzie Ann in her carrier to the door, with Dean holding your free hand. Sam carried a bag with all of her supplies, including her clothes, extra diapers and the teddy bear. You passed the carrier to the wife, tears prickling at your eyes. "Thank you for taking such good care of her," the wife remarked softly.

"You're welcome. She's a really good baby, mild temperament. Likes it if you sing to her, mostly soft rock type stuff. This bag has her clothes and extra supplies in it," you explained. The woman turned the carrier around so that you could see her sleeping face. You kissed her forehead and stepped back to let Sam and Dean say their goodbyes.

"Goodbye, small one. Thanks for everything," Dean said, taking your hand and squeezing it. Sam also stepped in to say his goodbye as well. As the man and his wife went into their house, you all turned and went back to the Impala.

You climbed into the back seat, and to your surprise, so did Dean. He passed the keys to Sam to take you all home. Dean wrapped his arms around you as silent sobs wracked your body. He whispered soothing words to you and eventually your tears subsided.

Back at the bunker, you went to your shared room with Dean and changed into your sleeping attire. You climbed into bed and Dean pulled you close to him, so that your head rested on his shoulder, while your hand laid on his chest.

“I miss her already,” you whispered as a few tears leaked out.

“I know, sweetheart, so do I. But, there’s one thing we can do about it,” he replied.

You raised up to see the mischievous grin on his face and waggling eyebrows. “Yeah? And what is that, as if I didn’t already know,” you said.

“Practice makes perfect, you know,” he grinned before he dove in for a passion-filled kiss.

“Then we’d better get started,” you responded huskily, pulling him in to capture his lips with yours.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean whispered.

#dean winchester #deanxreader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #spn fluff #spn imagine #supernatural

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enbycalicocat · 3 years

Text

Day 4: 30th of January, 2021

June had called his older brother as soon as he had the free time to do so. Which was hours and hours after the presentation. But that was alright. His brother knew how hectic being a trainee was and had patience with June's late-night calls. Also, the performance was practically engraved in the teen's mind so there was no risk of him forgetting any detail about it. It had been that amazing.

Before he could go over Jimmie's presentation for the nth time that day, July's happy voice rang in his ear.

"Hey! Little bro! How are you? I haven't heard from you these past few days."

The heart in June's chest skipped a beat and he felt like it had grown in size and couldn't fit inside him anymore. He was really happy right now. He'd had an amazing day. And on top of that he really missed his big brother and liked talking to him when he allowed himself to call.

However, outwardly, June showed none of it.

"Hi bro," he said in the most nonchalant and bored tone of voice he could muster right now. He wanted to show how excited he was, but he'd only seen little kids being that exuberant. June was not a kid. He was going to be fifteen in just a few months. Plus, in a few years he would be eighteen. He was almost an adult. And he wanted to be treated as such. Hence, he’d stopped doing what he considered kid behaviors and began imitating the adults in his life. Most of them were very serious, and didn't really show their emotions on their faces. Like Summer. That was what he strived for. As for his older brother... Well, he was just a seven-year-old kid in a big body, in June's opinion. "I'm good. Been busy."

July chuckled. His little brother was the funniest, most amusing thing that had ever happened to him. He knew June, had watched him grown up and watched him enter his current 'perpetually uninterested' phase, and knew for a fact that he was trying to act cool. Actually, June had been trying to act cool for a while now, that was nothing new. Today, though, the bored tone sounded even more forced than usual, so, July knew something really good had happened.

"I see," he said with the same happy tone, trying to hide how much fun he was having at June's expense. Someday his little bro would grow and July would tell him all about how much he laughed internally. That day, July would also (hopefully!) stop having to painstakingly pull the good news out of him. "So, what did you do today? I mean apart from your boring middle school classes and the exhausting company schedule, did something interesting happen?"

If he didn't make the distinction, he feared June would purposely stall mentioning the thing he did want to talk about.

"Umm," June said as if he was trying to find something interesting in his mind-numbingly average day.

What happened today? The most amazing and beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life! And the biggest coincidence that has happened to me yet!

Would July even believe him when June told him?

"Nothing much," he said instead. Still disinterested. "Oh, yeah. One of my band members had some sort of dance thing today."

"Dance thing? You mean a dance presentation?" Aha! So, the good thing was related to that 'dance thing'.

Hang on a…

"Dance?" July asked out loud, June's words suddenly sinking in. "The only one you've told me that dances is Hobart. But I didn't know he performed on stage?"

"Not Hobi," June corrected. "It was a school dance thing."

"School? You have a band member that goes to school and dances? I thought only Taelyn went to school still?"

"Bro," June said clearly annoyed, "I told you about this. Did you even listen? The new guy is Tae's age. And he dances."

Really, June hadn't called his brother very often since Jimmie arrived two weeks ago. But he had called at least twice, and he had mentioned Jimmie. There was no way he hadn't when the older boy was the coolest person he'd known ever.

"Ah, right, I remember now!" July hurried to say, noticing that his brother was seriously angry. Note to self: Remember this new guy from now on. He's important. Very important. The older boy decided to quickly change the topic. "So, he had a dance presentation at school today? That's great! How was it? How was he?"

June went quickly over Jimmie's dance.

The way his body moved so elegantly, so perfectly in time with the music, so fitting for the melody, as if the music itself was the one controlling him.

Combining the dance and the music with the lights, they had managed to achieve some very neat tricks with shadows and the feeling the dance gave off; and Jimmie had seemed unreal, like some ethereal mythological deity.

The costume Jimmie had been wearing consisted of tight trousers, probably lycra or tights, that made the way his leg muscles shifted, tensed, and relaxed glaringly obvious; and the shirt had... Cleavage? It was a v-cut shirt, but the vertex was really low on his chest, showing his clavicles and a part of the dip his sternum caused between his pecs.

On top of that, the dance required Jimmie to often lower his head and chest, making the loose flowy shirt gape and show a tiny hint of his flat navel.

And then, at the end, the light had made Jimmie's sweat shine on top of his skin, making him look even more like some fantastical creature instead of a simple sixteen-year-old boy.

"Bro? You there?" July asked. Of course, he knew June was there. He could hear him breathing. But the silence had gone on too long, and he had to draw the teen out of his mind. Mentally, to that note he'd made before, he added another few 'very's to the ‘very important’ remark.

"It was good." The 'I could absolutely care even less' tone of voice didn't fool July for a single second. But June patted himself on the back for managing to reign in his desire to rant excitedly like a four-year-old.

July laughed out loud, because if he didn't, he might start crying. Could June please hurry up and get over this teen phase of his? July was patient but he was no saint and he was getting fed up of June’s stalling. "That's it? That's actually it? How am I supposed to know what the presentation was like from just a simple good?"

"Fine.” His little brother sounded like he would rather do anything else than try to find words to explain the performance. “The music was kinda good. They did some sort of light tricks or something? It was cool, I guess. The dance was not boring and repetitive, so kudos for that or whatever.” The teen sighed tiredly. “Like I said. It was good."

July was deeply impressed. That was the longest description he'd gotten from June in a while. He went back to that mental note and underlined it.

"Ah, I see. How was he, though? Did he perform well?"

Perfectly.

June had heard from Jimmie that he'd apparently made some mistakes in the choreography. Which was why the boy had been practicing the dance and going over every move and step meticulously in the corner of their practice room when June went out to call his brother in private. The younger boy had not seen or noticed any glaringly obvious mistakes, and he had been watching closely.

"He was okay." He even shrugged as if his brother could see him through the phone somehow.

In his mind, July added a second line under the already underlined note.

"That's great for him then!" He was genuinely happy. Not just because this boy had done well, but because his brother had been moved by something. That didn't happen often. "Do you know if it was his first time on stage? Or has he done these types of performances before?"

June practically vibrated in his seat from how happy and ecstatic he felt. Once more, his heart grew without his consent and his chest was too small to hold it. This was the biggest thing that had happened today.

"He's from Busset, I guess. He's done some shows there with the Busset High School of Arts or something."

The name of the school activated multiple alarms in July's brain. Busset High School of Arts? Wasn't that...

"The school your friends attended? The one you practically lived in? And the moment they announced a new show you'd drag us all over to watch it?"

"It was not like that." June glared at the wall in front of him and felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and shame.

"Huh, so he went to that school. I see. What a coincidence." July ignored June completely, not even teasing him like he would usually. He'd gotten the information he wanted. The puzzle he'd been trying to piece together and solve slowly taking shape. He went over all the little details he'd gotten out of his brother so far and suddenly an idea came to him.

"Hey, bro, you didn't happen to see some of his presentations here in Busset, did you?"

July was finally asking the questions June wanted to answer. The thing that had him almost bouncing off the walls.

He did. He knew Jimmie. Like he had actually seen him, talked to him, and hung out together before. Not only had he seen him in presentations. June actually knew the boy from before he started studying contemporary dance. He had really liked Jimmie back then. He'd even preferred spending time with him than with his actual friends. That had been before he came to the capital a year ago. They'd never exchanged numbers or anything. They didn't even know each other’s names, they'd just used some silly nicknames their school friends had given them. At the present time, June understood why Jimmie had gone by a nickname rather than his own name; it was the same reason June had done it: neither liked their names very much.

And now that same boy was here! In the capital! In the same band as him!

June thanked his brother in his heart because otherwise he didn't know how he would bring the topic up and if he didn't tell someone he might explode.

"Huh." June pretended to think. "Well, now that you mention it... He seems sort of familiar, I guess?"

Holy crap, June had actually seen the boy dance before! And then he went to the capital! And they both ended up in the same company!

July now understood June's excitement. His little brother used to adore the very ground those dancers stood on. He admired them so much and religiously attended all their performances. And July actually had a couple of friends in that school too. Wait! Another idea flashed by his mind.

"Did you happen to run into him or something? It would be really cool if you two had a common friend and met back in Busset."

"Weeeell..." June said like he was really exercising his brain and he was not at all certain about what he was going to say. All while somehow managing to sound like he didn't give a rat's ass about the whole conversation and idea. "I think he might've been friends with Joe, or something." July didn’t need to be there to know his brother was shrugging. "Like I said, he looks familiar."

Double holy crap! June had actually been friends with this boy! And now they met again!

July couldn't believe how small the world was. Fate seriously worked in the weirdest ways. It really seemed like something out of a cliché romance television show.

"That's so cool! I bet you're really excited to have met him again. I'm really happy for you little bro. Now you actually have an old friend from Busset there for you. Not that your capital friends aren't good to you or anything, but this guy knows you from your school days, so he's known you longer, and he's from the same town as you. He'll probably understand you a lot better than the other guys."

"Bro." From June's tone of voice July could practically see him rolling his eyes so hard that it most likely physically hurt. "It's not that big of a deal. I mean, whatever. Anyway, there was also this sort of... Meeting, I guess? With the company's CEO. He told us that..."

As the topic of the conversation shifted entirely off the new boy, July smiled. He then proceeded to circle five times the note he'd made before. Hmm. Let's circle it one more time.

Prompt: 4. Share the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen in the most boring tone possible.

Previous Day Next Day

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realfuurikuuri · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 15/? Relationships: Mao Mao/Tanya Keys, Mao mao/badgerclops

MissingArm!AU: When escaping the cave, it wasn't his tail that got crushed. In exchange for his innocence, he gained a sordid past. The Pure Heart Valley seemed like a good place to escape. To start a new life with a new family to forge a new identity. However, when the past rears its ugly head Mao Mao's forced to step up or be put down.

AN: I don't know what chapter I'll post next. I want to do another one of these, but I also need to write another chapter for my NSFW fanfic. On a personal note, I've started Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey. I've been trying to an Oni in the first dungeon, but Demon Negotiations are dumb and I hate them. Per the usual credits to Spookylovesboba and enjoy the chapter.

He and Jǐngtì stared at each other for a long moment. Mao Mao stood on the porch, his mouth gaping open like a fish, wondering if the world stopped spinning or was it just him. First, Jǐngtì raised his eyebrows in confusion, then he grit his teeth in anger. He didn’t hesitate to slam the door in his father’s face. Mao Mao was too stunned to stop it. It probably would have slammed if Badgerclops didn’t catch it.

“Don’t do that. The hinges don’t fit- oh,” his words dropped off when he noticed Mao Mao. “Hey, can you stir the pot, so the food doesn’t burn?”

Jǐngtì looked up to Badgerclops then to Mao Mao before turning around with a sneer. Mao Mao watched him disappear into the kitchen. What was he doing here? Jǐngtì held too much spite to make an innocent visit. Another thing Jǐngtì got from his father.

“Mao Mao.”

“Huh?”

“Are you going to come inside,” Badgerclops asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

Mao Mao took the first step. His paw hit the ground, but it didn’t hold any weight. He would’ve smashed his nose against the ground if Badgerclops hadn’t caught him. Even then, it was still a second before Mao Mao realized he wasn’t standing upright.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m just… sinkhole stuff, you know?”

“No.”

“Oh. I guess you had to be there to get it.”

“Are you okay?”

“No, but I’m fine.”

Badgerclops gave an unconvinced nod as he followed Mao Mao inside. Mao Mao immediately went about making sure everything was okay. There wasn’t a net hidden in the rafters, no pressure plate waiting on the floor, no tripwires tied to the walls. Just the smell of spices wafting from the kitchen. Was that a ploy to cover up the smell of something else? He slowly peeked over the couch to find Adorabat watching cartoons. The cartoon wasn’t even something odd, it was just normal. As normal as a talking crab running on a treadmill could be.

“Hey Mao Mao,” she said,” what are you doing?”

“Oh, just, making sure everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s not fine.”

Mao Mao leaped over the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“The remote’s batteries are dead.”

Mao Mao sighed and moved his hand away from Geraldine. “Hey, Badgerclops, you got any spare batteries?”

“Hold on. They're around here somewhere.”

Badgerclops went away to sift through the new shelf he made, leaving Mao Mao and Adorabat at the couch. Mao Mao knew she could get pretty engrossed in cartoons, but Adorabat had been unusually quiet. She was looking at the TV, but she fidgeted and he could hear mumbles slip out.

“Are you okay,” he asked.

“Oh, it's just… I mean he’s here… you can get kinda…”

Mao Mao was about to tell her to use her words until he realized two things. One: she did use words, albeit poorly. Two: this wasn’t the time to be patronizing. She kicked her feet and twiddled her wings. What was bothering her? She said ‘he’s here’ so what did she mean? Badgerclops the only other guy here, and his relationship with Mao Mao was complicated, but fine. Unless she was referring to...

Mao Mao rolled his eyes at himself for not realizing it sooner. He sighed and sat down next to Adorabat, putting a reassuring arm over her shoulder. “I know that Jǐngtì and I fight sometimes, but things will be fine.”

“But-,” she started before Mao Mao stopped her.

He calmly held her wing. “Everything will be fine, trust me.”

Adorabat still seemed unsure, but it was enough to make her give Mao Mao a hug before she went back to cartoons. The gears in Mao Mao’s head were turning once again. The elusive answer was just inches away. Badgerclops and Adorabat listened to him because

“I found the batteries.”

Like that the answer was gone. And he’d been so close to it too!

“Thank you, Badgerclops,” he said, taking the batteries, slapping them into the remote and handing it to Adorabat.

“You're welcome,” Badgerclops said.

Did he not get the sarcasm?

“Hey,” Jǐngtì called from the kitchen,” can I stop stirring this now?”

“Oh dear,” Badgerclops said as he headed into the kitchen with Mao Mao on his heels.

The kitchen looked a little different thanks to Badgerclops redecorating. A new utensil rack, new dishwasher, and a new stove that Jǐngtì was only able to reach thanks to Mao Mao’s step stool. He stirred the pot with a large wooden spoon. Mao Mao could tell from the tomato smell that they were having garden soup tonight.

“When do I stop stirring,” Jǐngtì asked.

“When it looks done,” Badgerclops answered.

“And when is that?”

Badgerclops stopped chopping vegetables and went over to him. “You never learned how to cook?”

“Prison, remember. Food was given, not made.”

Badgerclops eyebrows creased uncomfortably, but Jǐngtì didn’t notice. He kept speaking with casual indifference.

“They’d always just put a bowl of something. Once a day, every day.”

“They only fed you once a day?”

“Yeah. I still eat once a day, still. Eating three meals a day seems kind of excessive to me, I mean-”

He finally stopped when Badgerclops put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Badgerclops, unable to see a problem.

“You can stop stirring it's done now,” Badgerclops sighed.

“I’ll get the bowls then.”

* * *

Despite Badgerclops’ expectations, it wasn’t a quiet dinner. The soup was a little thin, but it was good. It was late so there was an entire day to talk about. Everyone spoke their fair share. Although, there was one issue: Jǐngtì refused to talk to his father. No matter how enthusiastic Jǐngtì was in the conversation, no matter how much Jǐngtì twiddled his thumbs, he would never speak to Mao Mao. He’d direct no comments or answer any questions.

By the time everyone had finished their food he still had yet to say a word.

“So Orangusnake is two people,” Badgerclops asked.

Mao Mao nodded.

“And they’re dating?”

Mao Mao nodded again.

“Were they were fused in, like, some sort of freak accident.”

“Nope. Coby just sits on Tanner’s shoulders.”

Badgerclops leaned back in his chair, processing the information before he let out a bemused “huh”. “Did you know Orangusnake was two people?”

Jǐngtì made a so-so gesture. “I guessed, but I wasn’t sure. I do my best to ignore them all when I’m in the junkyard. I still can’t tell you the giraffe’s name. “

“It’s Ramaraffe,” Adorabat yawned.

Mao Mao scratched her behind the ears before picking her up. “That’s enough. Time to go to bed for you.”

Mao Mao headed off with Adorbat in his arm, leaving Jǐngtì and Badgerclops alone. Jǐngtì usual expression softened when his father left. The straight line that was a blend of contempt and apathy fell apart to something softer. There Beeps! and Boops! as Jǐngtì started to play on with the Ducky-Gatchi.

“You really like that don’t you,” Badgerclops said.

“Eh, it's alright. It gives me something to do. Would be better if I didn’t have to pick up from someone else’s save.”

“That’s Mao Mao’s. He spent all morning playing on it.”

“I thought this was Adorabat’s.”

“It is, but Mao Mao got into it. Did you know he’s a fan of Lucky Ducky? He actually bought the Ducky-Gatchi that's boxed over there.”

“I was wondering what that was for.”

“Your father’s a really big fan. He spent a grand to get the thing.”

Jǐngtì grimaced. “He’ll spend 1K for that, and nothing for me,” he mumbled.

Badgerclops kicked himself for being too careless. Things fell into an awkward silence. The only sound other than the Ducky-Gatchi was Badgerclops drumming his fingers on the table.The awkwardness wouldn’t go away until they loosened up and Badgerclops had just the thing in mind. He got up from his chair and went into the kitchen. He searched through the fridge until he found the 6-pack of beers. Badgerclops pulled out on for himself, one for Jǐngtì, he hesitated, but figured it’d be okay, and pulled one for Mao Mao.

He went back to the table to find that Mao Mao was back. Jǐngtì scowled at his father, who stood over his chair unsure. “How’s Adorabat,” Badgerclops asked.

“Hm, oh she’s asleep,” he said.

“Good. Here.”

Badgerclops placed the can of beer in front of Mao Mao and slid the other can to Jǐngtì. Badgerclops had turned his hand into a can opener and was about to drink when he noticed Mao Mao and Jǐngtì raising their eyebrows at him.

“What?”

“Did you just give me beer,” Jǐngtì asked.

“Yeah?”

“You know I’m underage, right?”

“Nah, the drinking age in the Valley is 18.”

“Do- do you know how old I am?”

“Like 18, right?” Badgerclops said.

“Mao Mao was 18 when I was born. He’s 31 now. How old am I?”

Badgerclops knew the answer immediately. It was simple subtraction, yet he still set the beer down to count on his fingers. He did the math once, and then did it again. He pulled up the calculator app and did the math there. HE got the right answer, but it couldn’t be right.

“There’s no way you’re 13.”

“But I am.”

“But you’re voice is deep and you’re almost as tall as Mao Mao.”

“I’m just tall I guess, and my voice is… another thing.”

“Is he 13,” Badgerclops asked Mao Mao.

Mao Mao slowly nodded.

“Holy-fucking-shit, you’re 13,” he said quietly, stumbling from the realization.

The pieces of the puzzle fit together to form a horrifying picture. Everything made sense. Why Tanya was so mad. Why Mao Mao never talked about it. Why Jǐngtì was so aloof. He was a kid. He still is a kid! He was an emotionally stunted kid! Ths shock gave way to something much worse with the next realization. He and Tanya split up after Jǐngtì went to jail. That was 5 years ago. Mao Mao abandoned his 8-year-old kid. No wonder Tanya despised Mao Mao, Badgerclops was beginning to despise him too.

“Are you okay,” Mao Mao asked.

Badgerclops felt the inclination to turn it back to him and ask Are you okay! but set it aside. He couldn’t set it aside completely. He must have been wearing his anger on his face. Mao Mao stared at the ground unable to look Badgerclops in the eye. It was very convenient that the phone began to ring. Badgerclops had nothing to say to that man.

* * *

Despite what you may expect Mao Mao believed in a God. There had to be some sort of higher power in control of everything. How else could happiness be snatched away from his so quickly? Mao Mao was sure that there was a higher power; He was even more sure that it hated him. Mao Mao slowly walked into the office. The ringing grew thunderously loud as he approached. Mao Mao knew it was all in his head. He just didn’t want to answer it. Why would he? There isn’t a single person in this world who wants to talk to him. No family, no friends. If he had either of those things anymore.

Mao Mao shook his head. He was stalling. The phone had already rung four times. It’d only be three, maybe four more, until it went voicemail. He wouldn’t have to do anything. Just stand here. Against his better judgment, he picked it up anyway.

“Hello,” he asked.

“Mao Mao?”

It was Tanya.

Oh shit. He felt woozy and queasy. Was he having another stroke? He firmly planted his feet, but the ground didn’t come rushing at him. God couldn’t even give him a stroke when he needed one.

“Mao Mao,” she asked again.

“Yeah, how was-”

“I can’t find Jǐngtì.”

“You can’t find-?”

“I’ve looked everywhere. He’s not at any of old hideouts putland didn’t capture him, I can’t find-”

“I know where he is.”

There was a pause. He could hear Bao Bao bark on the other end. He couldn’t even muster the energy to be mad.

“Where is he?”

“Here’s here.”

“He ‘s still in the valley?”

“No, I mean he’s literally in the other room.”

There was another pause.

“Put him on the phone,” she said

Mao Mao wanted to say he was fine or something like that, but he couldn’t find the words to argue. No point in telling a transparent lie. “Hold on.”

Mao Mao set the phone on the desk. He took a shaky breath. What was his problem? It's just a mother wanting to talk to her son. So why was he so terrified? He trudged his way to the kitchen. Jǐngtì and Badgerclops were still sitting there, but it was obvious neither had said a word. Badgerclops spared him a glance; Jǐngtì didn’t even do that.

“Your mother’s on the phone,” he said.

That got Jǐngtì’s head to turn. “What,” he asked.

“Your mother’s on the phone,” he repeated.

Jǐngtì kept staring at him. He seemed stuck.

“You should talk to her,” Badgerclops chimed in.

Jǐngtì considered this before getting out of his chair. He didn’t say anything. He just followed Mao Mao to the office. He picked up the phone, but his eyes lingered on him.

Mao Mao left at his silent behest. He sat just outside the door with his back to the wall. The torrent of emotions raged inside him. He could feel overwhelming sadness, chilling fear, burning anger, and deepest regret.

“Hi mom,” Jǐngtì croaked.

It felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. No matter how much he strained his ears he could only make out bits and pieces of what Jǐngtì said, let alone anything on the other line. He could make out a few things like “Yeah”, “Okay” and - ”fine”. What Mao Mao wouldn’t give to hear the rest.

Mao Mao was so lost in thought he didn’t know Jǐngtì was done until he was walking past him. Mao Mao jumped to his feet. Jǐngtì’s eyes looked red and puffy. He didn't even have the usual look on his face. Instead, it was something sullen and dejected.

Mao Mao knew he should have said something, but he second-guessed. He’d just make things worse like always.

Jǐngtì walked right back into the kitchen with Mao Mao on his heels.

Bagderclops from his beer. “What’d she say?”

“She said she’s picking me up next week.”

“Oh.. you can stay here for the time being.”

Jǐngtì shook his head. “I’ll… figure something out.”

Badgerclops got out of his chair. “Are you sure? Do you have a place to stay? Food to eat?”

“Why are you suddenly treating me like a child?”

“You are a child.”

Mao Mao stood off to the side, watching Badgerclops parent his kid. What was he supposed to do? The only thing he was good at was fighting monsters, and he wasn’t even particularly good at that. He needed something to do but had nothing to do, so instinct took over. He grabbed Geraldine and headed to the dojo for mindless training when he realized he didn’t even want to do that. He found himself heading to the door.

“Where are you going,” Badgerclops asked.

Mao Mao paused, deciding honesty was the best policy. “...I don’t know,” he said, closing the door behind him.

#MMHOPH #Fanfic #Mao Mao #Badgerclops #Adorabat #Jinti

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intothestarkerverse · 4 years

Text

Welcome to My Dark Side (2)

Sequel to ‘Time of Our Lives’

Tony Stark has done his best to fit into the 21st century by embracing his new role, new family, and even his new nicknames. Determined to become a hero worthy of calling Peter Parker his life partner, everything seems to be going better than he could have hoped…until Tony’s efforts to help Peter uncover the truth behind his parents’ death put everything he knows and loves in terrible danger. In the face of absolute darkness, how can love and life survive?

(STORY CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS)

Read on AO3

“You have breakfast yet?” Tony eyed the six year old perched on a stool at his breakfast counter. Her responding expression was beyond her sparse years, little mouth drawn into a serious frown, brows furrowed, dark eyes humorless with their intensity. “Guess I should ask if you had anything good for breakfast, instead, right?” Without waiting for a response, he turned back to his cupboards, plucking two bowls, two spoons, a carton of milk and a box of cereal out before precariously balancing his bounty back across the kitchen to the counter.

Morgan immediately perked up at the sight of the sugary breakfast treat that Pepper tried very hard to keep away from her growing daughter. The fact that she had dumped Morgan on him this morning because she had an early morning conference call with someone in Japan just meant that Tony had a chance to spoil her, and spoil her he would. Tony couldn’t bring himself to look on her as a daughter no matter what genetics said about the matter, but he’d always wanted a little sister and Morgan Stark was special in every single sense of the word. He loved that kid and he’d happily murder anyone who even breathed on her wrong.

Morgan examined the box of cereal carefully as Tony prepared their meal, amused by the sugar-covered pieces of processed grain in the shape of tiny arc reactors and corresponding red and gold iron man helmet-shaped marshmallows. “Let’s not tell your mom about this, huh?”

Morgan cocked her head at him, providing him with a half smirk as she chewed.

“Yeah, okay, don’t know what that means. Kid, you’re the most cryptic six-year-old I’ve ever met.” He enjoyed a few spoonfuls of his own bowl before he thought to ask, “Happy’s taking you to school in a bit, right?” Pepper hadn’t said anything about Tony playing chauffeur, but he also hadn’t been paying much attention when the mother and daughter had arrived early that morning either. Pepper could count her lucky stars that he didn’t require a lot of sleep and that he was still almost obsessively focused on the puzzle that Fury had presented to him after the fundraiser or he’d likely have been down for the count like most of the civilized folk in Manhattan at that hour. As it was, he’d been deeply ensconced in his workshop with something that was going to benefit his future plans with Peter...a project he’d had to artfully hide from Pepper before she connected the dots and realized something he’d rather she not know.

“Mhm,” Morgan barely afforded him a grunted response around her heaping mouthful of cereal. It really was a shame how Pepper fed this kid. Cutting sugar out of her breakfast food regimen was un-American. School plans settled, the two fell into a companionable silence, eating their cereal and glancing over the graphics of the Old Man on the box from time to time. Some kind of idle statistics about his do-gooding and IQ adorned the back. The IQ was off by twenty points. He was going to have to make them fix that.

Tony didn’t realize Morgan had finished her cereal until he looked up from the box to find her staring at him with that same intense expression. “You okay, Maguna?”

“How come you and daddy are the same?”

Tony almost spit his cereal out. Somehow, he managed to swallow it in a gulp and stall for time with a little coffee as he coughed and sputtered on the soggy grain and milk. “Uh, well, it’s just genetics kid. You and the Old Man are a lot alike, too.”

“Um...no. You and daddy are just alike, TJ.”

“Okay...well...there’s an explanation for that...”

Morgan pursed her lips and raised both brows at him, moving to a kneeling position on the stool so she could lay across the counter and reach out to place her hands on his face. “You look just the same. And sound just the same. And your fingers are the same. You’re the same as my daddy.”

Yeah, okay, so she was a Stark and he really should have seen this coming. He could almost pity Howard in this moment if this gave him any clue about what he’d been like as a six year old. Christ. Tony cleared his throat, searching for something to say to explain it all away. Instead, all he could do was stall for time. “How did you figure this out, Kid?”

“Miss Friday helped me.”

“Seriously? What do you have to sat for yourself, Fri?”

“You told me to assist in Morgan’s education whenever possible, Boss.” Tony let out a long sigh, that had not been what he meant. “She asked me about your fingerprints and voice analysis and how they corresponded to Mr. Stark’s so I provided her with detailed comparisons of both.”

Tony tapped the back of the little girl’s hand on his cheek with his finger. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

“Cause I am.”

“Mhm, and what made you think to compare my fingerprints and voice with your father’s?”

“My teacher said everybody has a voice that is just their own and not like anybody else in the whole wide world but you and daddy sound just alike. Sometimes when you put me to bed I close my eyes and pretend you’re him.”

God, she was actually trying to kill him, now. Tony felt his throat constrict as he plucked her hands off of his face and gave them a tight squeeze. “I’m not your daddy, Morgan. I wish I was because you’re so damn smart and beautiful and amazing, but I’m not. You’re right, though, I’m not you’re brother either. I just....I really need your mom and everyone else to believe that I am so can this be our little secret and I promise that sometime real soon I’ll sit down and tell you everything, okay? For now...believe me when I tell you that your daddy is out there watching everything you do and he’s so freaking proud of you kid. Whenever you see a rainbow or a shooting star or something crazy good happens to you out of the blue, that’s your dad telling you how much he loves you.”

“3000.”

Tony blinked away the tears in his eyes, clearing his throat and abandoning the counter to tidy up. “Exactly.”

“Boss, Happy is here to pick up Morgan for school...” Saved by the AI.

“You hear that, Maguna? Get a move on or you’ll be late. Wait...I want a hug first. Yep, that’s the stuff right there.” He buried his nose in the little girl’s hair for a moment and gave it a good ruffle with his fingers before he let go. “Be good and kick butt in school, okay? Love you, kid.”

“I love you too, TJ.”

“3000?”

A pause. “2005.”

“Ouch.”

~~~~~

“I’m still not sure about this.”

“What’s not to be sure about, Beautiful? I’ve thought of everything.”

Peter turned back to the holographic read outs with a long sigh. They were blueprints of the old Oscorp labs, or at least what little information Tony had been able to hack his way into at Shield, along with a few other reports that looked like weather and topographic readouts of the area. Peter knew that this was their best bet, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t think he could attribute it to his Spidey Sense, or Peter Tingle as the rest of the Avengers had taken to calling it (thanks to May). No, it didn’t feel quite the same. There was no sense of impending danger, just a heavy blanket of foreboding that was threatening to choke off his air supply. Tony obviously didn’t feel the same, so maybe he was just being silly. Or maybe he wasn’t.

Peter was supposed to tell May that he was going on a spring break trip with Tony, MJ, and Ned. While MJ and Ned were actually going to go to Florida to live it up, he and Tony were heading to upstate New York to infiltrate Osborn’s lab. Ned would be armed with a special Stark Phone that Tony had outfitted with the tech to provide realistic synthetic substitutes of Tony and Peter. If May or Pepper sent texts, they were going to get varied and believable responses meant to replicate the young men’s actual speech and text patterns. If they called or video chatted, a variant of the BARF technology was going to provide a realistic computerized response that would again fool the older women into thinking they were both in Florida living the good life by utilizing actual noise pollution and visuals from Ned and MJ’s vacation. The guilt of leaving May at the airport thinking they were taking Tony’s private jet to Florida when they were instead flying headfirst into danger...it was almost suffocating and he couldn’t ignore the worry any longer. “What happens if we’re not back in a week, Tony?”

“If we’re not back by the time that MJ and Ned have gotten back, than Friday is going to reveal our true destination to May, Pepper, and Fury so arrangements can be made.”

Funeral arrangements or just rescue mission arrangements? Peter wanted to ask, but he knew better than to say any of that out loud. He and Tony rarely fought, but Peter knew that nothing made Tony angrier than mentioning their own mortality. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Because Peter wasn’t sure at all. He’d heard Tony’s argument a hundred times but part of him still felt sick at what they were planning to do.

“Your parents are out there. They’re alive. We don’t leave men behind. Besides, if there is something big and nasty coming than we need to know what it is and how to stop it. I refuse to do what the Avengers did and just sit around waiting for the Big Bad to come knocking down our door. We’re not going to be surprised again, Peter. Whatever this bad thing is...we’re going to identify it and even after we close that gateway...we’re going to be ready for it because there’s no guarantee that closing the gateway will end the danger. None.”

Peter could only nod slowly. “Yeah, okay. No, you’re right. Of course you are. I’m just...I’m nervous about getting my hopes up and visiting another world and just...everything.”

Tony laughed, reaching out to tug Peter across the room and into his arms. His lips ghosting against the younger man’s, breath hot against Peter’s mouth as he embraced him, “We had sex in two different times, Baby, now we get to consummate parallel earths. Tell me that’s not hot as fuck.”

“Depends on the parallel earths.”

Tony snorted a laugh as he nuzzled into Peter’s neck and nipped at his ear, “You need to stop worrying. We’re superheroes, Baby. Arguably the two best superheroes on the planet.”

“Only because Thor is off world with the Guardians...”

“Honestly, you and Thor. If I didn’t know better, I’d be jealous.”

Their conversation died off as the Quinjet came to a quiet landing. Peter held onto Tony for several more seconds, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of the older man in an attempt to calm the frenzied beating of his heart. Finally, though, he gently pushed himself away and tapped his watch to engage the Ironspider suit.

Several things became apparent to Peter as the two descended the ramp from the cloaked jet plane. This was clearly going to be even more difficult than Peter had thought. Fury hadn’t been lying when he said that Shield had sealed the lab in an attempt to prevent anything from the Gateway from breaching the outside world. From outward appearances, it looked like the entire building had been encased in a giant block of cement. “Uh, so...”

“Don’t worry, I had the Iron Legion working on our way in for the last twenty-four hours. Believe it or not, inside this cement, there’s another layer of titanium. Anyway, it took six suits, but we have a way in. Follow me.” Iron Man circled the building with Spidey close on his heals. The moment they turned the corner, Peter could see the suits. It appeared that they’d concentrated their repulsers into a succession of laser-like beams that had sliced a rectangular chunk of cement and metal to reveal one of the doors on the blueprints. “I’m leaving them on guard duty while we’re gone. Friday will make sure that nothing comes out of this facility until we get back...and if by some miracle something gets by, she’ll radio the New Avengers. You don’t have to worry, Pete.”

“Famous last words.” It was in times like this that Peter found himself missing Mr. Stark. Tony just hadn’t experienced the level of failure and defeat that Mr. Stark, or even Peter, had. He didn’t know to expect the worst, but Peter did. He cast a wary glance at the Iron Legion, biting his tongue as Tony moved for the door.

It came open with a pop, the musty smell of stale air, dust and mildew washed out around them. Peter only got the smallest whiff before he felt the filtration system in the suit come online.

The interior looked like nothing but darkness. No light could penetrate from the concrete and titanium covered walls, so there was nothing visible beyond a few feet into the entry. It wasn’t as if Mr. Stark hadn’t thought of those concerns a long time ago. Something as mundane as darkness was hardly any match for Iron Man. Lighting and night vision had been built into the earliest models of the suit, after all. As Iron Man stepped into the abyss beyond, that tech came online to illuminate the area around him and several feet in front of him. A similar array of artificial illumination ignited on the Ironspider suit as well. Gulping back his fear, Peter reached out to close the door behind them and they were bathed in black.

The entire facility was filthy, awash with dust, debris, and cobwebs. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught sight of what he could only assume was the corpse of a fallen Shield Agent, but he did his best to avoid looking at it for too long. Still, the momentary glimpse of the skeleton was burned onto is retinas. “Tony...”

There was something wrong with that sight. The body. As much as he wanted to avoid looking, he couldn’t help but glance back towards it. “Tony, if the building is sealed...how is that body not mummified...”

Tony was already bending over it to examine the bones as the oddity of the body struck him as wrong at almost the same time. “I think these are tooth marks...”. He held up an ulna, running an armored finger over the grooves on the bone. “These are definitely toothmarks. Friday says they appear...humanoid.”

Peter certainly hoped that Tony couldn’t hear him gulping in fear behind his own mask....but with the sensitive comms, he probably could. “Tony...what are we locked in here with?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just...be careful, and hope that Peter Tingle of yours is on point tonight.”

“Spidey sense.”

“Hmm,” Tony reverently replaced the bone and stood, brushing off his gauntlets.

“I prefer the term ‘Spidey Sense.’ “

“Give me one good reason why I should call it Spidey Sense, Baby, because that name isn’t nearly as funny...”

“Because you’re the only thing that makes my peter tingle.”

Tony had to brace himself against the wall to support himself as he laughed. “God, Beautiful, every time I don’t think I could love you more...you go and drop one of those gems on me. Damn.”

Peter’s response was lost on his lips. He felt the telltale warning of danger shiver down his spine as he caught sight of movement just at the periphery of their location. There wasn’t time to warn him, there was really only time for Peter to fire a quick line of webbing at his lover and tug him back as something dark and terrifying lunged from the shadows. Peter could swear he could hear it moaning the word ‘meat.’

“What the fuck...” A repulser blast bit into the wall inches from the creature, scorching its arm and the tatters of what appeared to be clothing and once more driving it back into the shadows before either hero could get a good look at it. “Well, at least we know what ate the bodies...”

“Yeah, Tony, that’s not nearly as comforting as you think it is.” Even worse, perhaps, were the observations from both Karen and Friday that the creature had no heat signature and wouldn’t be visible on infrared. Now their trek through the building was much more careful and calculated. There were signs of the creatures everywhere. Claw marks on the walls, ransacked rooms, shattered furniture, the little skeletons of rats and mice and anything else unfortunate enough to have been sealed into the lab with them. It was only the knowledge of the Parkers’ distress call that kept Peter moving through the corpse of the once thriving laboratory. His parents were alive. They’d escaped this place, and so would he and Tony. They just had to.

At least Tony seemed to know where he was going. He’d studied the blueprints much longer than Peter and had no doubt pinpointed precisely where a lab with a dimensional gateway would be located. Neither man mentioned the occasional sound of shuffling footsteps, the soft grunts and moans, the momentary glimpses of shifting shadows. There were clearly more than one of those things in there with them, but for the moment, they were hanging back. Maybe Tony had scared them with the repulser. Or, maybe as with many of the hunters in the animal kingdom, they were stalking their prey and waiting for exactly the right moment to strike.

The Gateway didn’t look anything like Peter had imagined it would. Shows like Stargate had always made them out to be large and imposing, a shifting, whirling mass of colors housed within an intricate metal or stone structure that provided it shape. This portal was anything but.

Peter could barely make it out without one of the specialized lenses of his suit. To the naked eye, it appeared as little more than the somewhat fluid appearance of very hot air on a humid July day. It was in that subtle wavering of the light that the slightest glimpse of a world beyond their own could be captured...but never long enough to make anything out. A quick sweep of the area showed that the portal was being maintained by a strip of metal along the ground that was joined to a large and imposing computer. While Peter had been examining the Portal, Tony had been taking stock of the technology.

“They cut off power to the lab in the hopes that it would cause the Gateway to close. It didn’t, which means that whatever is powering this portal isn’t coming from our dimension anymore.”

“That’s comforting.” Peter reached out to touch the shimmering air. As his finger hit the air, the tip of it vanished. He felt nothing. No pain, no tingling, no disconnection. Nothing to suggest it was a portal to another world besides the fact that the tip of his finger had vanished before his very eyes.

“Peter, stop poking the portal. It has a radiation signature...”

The young man withdrew his hand quickly, glad that Tony couldn’t see what he was certain was a guilty look on his face. Neither of the men had withdrawn their suits since entering the laboratory. The air inside the lab was breathable, if their read outs were any suggestion, but also so stale that it would likely not be pleasant for either one of them. Besides, with those monsters running around, it seemed smart to have some kind of protection on hand. Now, with what looked like a radiation signature emanating from the portal...the suits were staying on for the foreseeable future.

Tony was busy patching one of the main computer terminals into a handheld arc reactor to allow him to reboot and access the information they both hoped was still accessible on the hard drives while Peter was pacing the lab like a nervous animal in a zoo. Just like a nervous animal in a zoo, he could feel what was an indeterminate amount of eyes trained on his every movement and his inability to know where they were or what they were planning was making his every instinct scream warnings in his head.

Desperate for some distraction, Peter started to look more closely at the room itself. It looked as if the place had just been abandoned in the middle of a shift. There as a mug of coffee by one terminal with what appeared to be dried contents of a cup still housed within it. A stack of granola bars and food from what must have been a break room vending machine sat next to a swath of complicated equations that Peter picked up and shuffled through silently. Not everything was immaculate, however. A few desks had been upturned. Chairs broken. There were bullet holes in the wall near the door and the door itself had clearly been forced open from the outside by organic means.

“I think...I think after they sealed them in here, my mom and dad must have gathered some supplies and tried to stick it out in here. But um...whatever’s out there...it must have wanted them pretty bad.”

Tony glanced up from the computer, the expressionless mask of his armor giving Peter no hint as to what was going on in the mind beneath.

Peter’s foot met with something on the floor and it skittered forward. Upon closer inspection, he recognized an old school camcorder with a tape still housed inside. “You um...you think you can make this work?”

Tony had already Jerry-rigged a thumb drive to the computers’ memory to download any and all information he could. Waving Peter over, he took the camcorder and in a matter of minutes had it once more powered up, tape rewound.

For several seconds it appeared to be a tape recording the team’s initial attempt to establish the Gateway. Then, the scene cut out and a familiar face came into frame.

She was a little older and much less put-together than she had been the last time that Tony and Peter had seen her, but there was no mistaking Mary Parker for all that she and Peter resembled one another. She was dirty, sweating, tired, but still very much alive as she addressed the camera.

“If you’re seeing this, than that means you came back for us...which...all due respect, Fury, but that was stupid. I told you we’d be okay if you sealed us in here, that we’d figure something out...and we did. I think. I hope. No, I’m sure that we did.”

A loud sound shook the frame and with wide eyes Mary glanced off camera where Richard was shouting “Hurry up, Mary, we don’t have a lot of time here.”

“Right. Right. We can’t stay here, Fury. The anomalies are...they’re not like we thought. They appear to have higher brain function, an ability to communicate. They’ve displayed a remarkable ability to reason and hunt and now that they know they’re trapped in here with us...that we’re the only food supply left...they’re pretty determined to eat us. So uh....it’s time to go. And since we can’t get out of here through the door....we’re going to use the Gateway.”

“I’ve had a little bit of time to work on the math. I think I understand how this thing works at least as well as the men who built it...which arguably isn’t very well.” She held up the swath of complicated equations that Peter had seen on the desk nearby. “It’s all here. I’ll...leave if for you. Hopefully...hopefully it‘ll still be here for you.”

Another loud sound, a curse from Richard, and Mary paled considerably. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry I’ve got to cut this short. I...I can’t shut the Gateway down because it’s not being powered by our dimension anymore. Unless or until we find the power source, this thing is open for good...but I can change the world it opens up to. We’re not going to the world where these things originated...but beyond that. I don’t know. I’m going to try to make it home, Fury. But if we don’t...you keep your promise and you make sure my baby boy is taken care of, you hear me. You owe us that.”

The sound of wood splintering, of those creatures hissing and screaming and moaning. The camcorder dropped, still recording and slid against a desk, catching the image of Richard and Mary Parker as they ran through the Gateway to the screams of the monsters they left behind.

Peter closed the camcorder, hands trembling slightly. “Tony...if those things are as smart as she says...why aren’t they coming after us?”

Tony hazarded a glance towards the broken door and rubbed the back of his neck with a gauntlet. “I don’t know, Beautiful, but I don’t like it.”

Peter considered it for a moment. “Maybe they’re trying to get out again...”

“I don’t care how scary they are, Peter, there’s no way they’re getting past the Iron Legion.”

“So...when they can’t get out the door and they realize that we’re the only food source...”

Tony cursed, “Yeah. I think the ones we can hear are sentries...”

“They’re watching to make sure we can’t get away.”

“‘Fraid so. Or hoping that when we get done here we’ll leave them an opening to get out.”

Peter was already gathering the papers his mother had left behind, stuffing them into a briefcase he’d found discarded beneath a desk. He threw the camcorder in with it and after a moment’s hesitation grabbed the handful of granola bars as well. They probably didn’t go bad, right? And he might get hungry later. “What I don’t get...is why they didn’t go through the portal, too. If they’re smart and they’re hungry and they’ve been surviving in here for over a decade....why not try that other world out?”

“Because your mother was smart enough to leave it open to a location they wouldn’t be able to utilize, Pete. Radiation signature. Whatever is on the other side of that portal is deadly for them...at least as deadly as it would be for us.”

“But my parents...”

“They didn’t go through to that world, Pete.” Tony gestured to a read out near the floor where a long alphanumeric sequence could be seen. “You can see most of the readout on the video. It’s not the same. After your parents went through...they must have found a way to redial the Gateway and make sure it emptied to someplace...innocuous.”

Peter didn’t know if this new made him feel better or worse. “Okay...so...what’s our next move...” His words died on his lips, replaced by an anguished cry brought on by what felt like the pain of being set on fire. His Spidey-Sense had never felt like that before. It had never been so strong that it was excruciating, but as his gaze moved from Tony to the doorway and he caught sight of what had triggered the tingle...Peter completely understood.

His Spidey Sense was right.

They were so totally and completely fucked.

#starker

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soveryanon · 5 years

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Reviewing time for MAG134 /o/

- WOW is season 4, so far, the “Learning About Rituals” season. More about Fears politics, yes!! And new names! “Mother-of-Puppets” is such a wonderful name, and I love that it tends to be described as a “she” by people who know a bit about it (Oliver had referred to her in the feminine form too). Jon uses “it”, uses “the Spider”, but in his mind, it’s probably more… masculine?, given how he (almost) met “Mr. Spider” as a kid…

(MAG134) PETER: There are two Powers that, to my knowledge, have never attempted to fully manifest, never had followers set them up for a ritual: Mother-of-Puppets, and Terminus. The Web, and The End. The Web, I’ve never really been sure about: if I were to guess, I would say it actually prefers the world as is, playing everyone against each other, and so on. The End, on the other hand… The End doesn’t really need one: it knows that it gets everything eventually, so why bother. The End manifesting would not be a new world of terror; it would be a lifeless world. Devoid of everything. MARTIN: … Including fear. PETER: Exactly. It has no reason to truly attempt to enter our world, it’s… passive. But The Extinction… The Extinction is… different. It’s active. It will seek to create a lifeless world, in a way that none of the other Powers ever would. Some interpretations suggest it might replace us with something new, that can then fear annihilation in turn. But I and those like me would rather that did not happen.

It makes so much sense for The End!! I’m… however a bit surprised about The Web, though that tracks; but Peter’s overall tone was… way less confident on that one, and I can’t help but wonder, too. Why would The Web not attempt its own ritual? Because it requires a bit of free will to play with, and the success of a Web ritual would mean annihilating any?

I had already got the impression that what Raymond Fielding did at Hill Top Road (MAG059) was a draft or an experiment, in a small microcosm, of what a world under The Web could be like; but now, even more, if The Extinction is confirmed… I wonder if the Fifteenth couldn’t be a deal-breaker, for The Web: if this couldn’t push it to change its mind and decide to set up its own ritual after all, to pick controlling everything over letting everything get destroyed?

- And once again, I’m reminded of how close The Web and Beholding seem to be:

(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from. PETER: You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous. MARTIN: Sure.

It’s something I had wondered about Jon too: of what he does and thinks, what is coming from his “Insights”, and what is… the Web pulling strings? So far, I got the feeling that Insights give you a certainty: this is a Truth, a knowledge, there is no room for doubt about that piece of information. The Web… pulls you in a direction/makes you do something, and leaves you room to rationalise your actions yourself. What Martin described sounds a lot like how Trevor had described the Web’s effects on him:

(MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “she locked eyes with me. The weirdest sensation began to flow through me; I wanted to leave. It wasn’t like with a vampire, where I would feel like I’d been spoken to. This was just a sudden awareness of my own desire. I’d been sober for three years at that point, but I felt like I desperately wanted to get high, and I knew that the best place to get some was out in the night. Looking back, I think it might have been my own mind rationalising the way I felt my will being tugged out of the room, but it was still very powerful. If I hadn’t had a lifetime’s experience of identifying and fighting off the effect of the vampire’s gaze, I probably would have done it, too.”

Martin did something, didn’t know why, tried to find explanations as to why he did it but explicitly said he wasn’t sure about it. If it was Beholding, I feel like he would have been certain that his actions could have the result they did. The fact that Peter was suspicious of it, and not… directly associating it with one of Beholding’s powers (and given how he told Martin that he needed someone from The Beholding: it would have been a good, natural thing!), seems to confirm that no, it’s not Beholding, it’s something else.

And if it’s indeed The Web, it means:

* that The Web is still around, and still… “doting” on Jon a bit (or at least making sure he’s still in the game). The Web likes/needs/gets its kick with Jon – it had already sent Oliver to wake him up, it made sure that Jon wouldn’t stay stuck forever in the coffin… although it had helped him to go inside. I doubt that it just ~likes~ Jon and wants to cater to him, it’s probably more… curious? about his courses of actions (since it helped him to get Daisy back and ensured his return), but at the very least, it factored Jon in.

* that The Web is able to influence Martin, even with Peter being around. We could still get Web!Martin, people!! Maybe. (Please?) (Especially given that!! If The Web and The End ~don’t have a ritual~: Jon is close to Georgie, and met her after she had been marked. And Martin has always liked spiders, since he was introduced…)

* -> The Web is also getting the information about the new Fear. If it’s real, if Adelard is not mistaken: then The Web is the strongest candidate to want to stop it, is getting all the information… and hasn’t explicitly warned Jon about it, but has nonetheless given him information about how Gertrude stopped rituals (sending him her tape about The Flesh). Slowly training Jon in that regard, maybe?

- … Given how Peter thought that The Extinction could have once been part of The End before it took its independence… I wonder if this could be the case for The Eye or The Web, too, or if they might be currently merging? Mostly because of new technologies and means of communication, because our societies tend to associate control and knowledge – through surveillance?

There is the matter of how The Web and The Beholding both give information – as mentioned above, they’re pretty close. Both have pushed Jon to learn more about the rituals and, if Jon indeed belongs to Beholding, he also has a strong connection to The Web due to his childhood encounter. Peter specifically asked Martin if he had been “compelled” – and until now, the words “compel” and “compulsion” were… Archivist things, the way he forces people to answer his questions. The spiders have been invading the Institute for a long while; Elias has never done nor mentioned anything about their presence nor about Jon’s backstory (but did tell Jon: “And your will is still your own, mostly.” That “mostly” sounded very…) (SomethingsomethingTaperecordersandtheWeb, too, but that’s for another post that I swear I’ll try to finish before it’s completely debunked... as I have been telling myself for the last three months.)

… Interestingly: Peter does not sound comfortable with it, doesn’t sound like he regards it as a potential ally (“something dangerous”). If it’s indeed The Web: does Peter fear to be manipulated himself? Does he dislike The Web due to personal reasons – did Gertrude use it against The Lonely?

Then, it’s possible that The Lonely and The Web are naturally antagonistic (like The Vast and The Buried), or at least a bit opposite on the spectrum of colours-that-hate-me? We know that The Web and The Desolation were mostly enemies through Raymond Fielding and Agnes Montague, though it could have been a personal conflict rather than a visceral feud, but then… Since The Web, by essence, relies on connections and different instances (puppeteer/puppet(s)) while The Lonely is, er, a bit more individualistic and about cutting someone’s ties with everything else, I could see them pretty much opposite, even passively? If Gertrude didn’t use explosives against the Lukases’ ritual, I wonder if she used something having to do with The Web to neutralize it…

- There is some extra hilarity around the concept of The Web snatching Martin right under Peter’s nose and getting him as her avatar while Peter was pushing for Martin to join the Lonely, because… remember the circumstances of Peter’s first appearance? He had (presumably) fed Brian Finlinson to The Lonely in MAG100. Brian who was… precisely pursued by Spiders. So, Peter had whooshed Brian while The Web had laid a claim on him.

The Web in season 4: Forgive and forget? AHAHAHAH NO, RESENT AND REMEMBER, FUCKER.

- I love how we invariably go back to “gERTRUDE–” when we learn new things about what she did. Adding to the long list of rituals she took care of, she derailed or at least made sure that The Lonely lost its chance in this round:

What have you done this time, and when will we learn about that one, and how: through a statement from Peter himself? Through Jon finding a statement left by a witness, in the Archives? Is it why Peter is so cheery nowadays while he used to be described as stern and austere, did the derailing of the Lukases’ ritual somehow make them more emotional and human?

I’m also AWWWW. that the Lukases have a pet-name for their god, “Forsaken”. The word was dropped in a few statements regarding their… activities:

(MAG013, Naomi Herne) “It made me feel utterly forsaken. I started to run, following as much of the road as I could see in the hopes of getting to the other side, but there seemed to be no end to it.”

(MAG057, Carter Chilcott) “I had plenty of food and water, so starvation wasn’t a danger; but sometime in the first week, the clock stopped working. With no timepiece and… nothing left outside of the sun or moon, keeping any sort of time at all became utterly impossible. If I had to guess how long I spent in that strange exile, I would say between three or six months, but that is based solely on my eating and sleeping patterns, which were largely filled by despair and that quiet, aching terror of being utterly forsaken.”

I wonder if one of the Lonely statements we got already contains a hint as to what happened… Did Gertrude do something to Peter’s boat when he was bringing her back from the Great Twisting attempt in Sannikov Land? (We’re not sure about the exact date, it was sometime between October 2009 (MAG126’s statement) and 2011, since Leitner told Jon in MAG080, in February 2017, that he had met Gertrude six years ago, when she had lost her last assistant.) Or did it have to do with Sean Kelly (MAG033), when he disappeared in Autumn 2010? Could it have been through Evan – Gertrude finding a runaway Lukas and convincing him to turn against his family because it would protect Naomi? She was still alive when Evan Lukas died, since Naomi’s statement took place in January 2016 and she mentioned that Evan had died one year prior, while Gertrude herself died in March or May 2015. (Though Gerry and Jon’s discussion about the Lukases implied that they had taken care of killing him, or at least that seems to be Jon’s theory…)

At least, Gertrude hasn’t apparently exploded Peter’s boat, since Jon mentioned that it was still active back in MAG033. So maybe no plastic explosive this time, unless she bombed another of their place of power which wasn’t their house or the boat. Still: Gertrude, what did you do.

- Well, no: the big Mystery, regarding Gertrude derailing The Lonely’s ritual is… not so much that she did, because el-o-el Gertrude., but… how come the Lukases are still financing the Institute? How did you manage to pull that one off, Elias?!

I’m legitimately baffled that Peter seems to imply that maybe Elias would have moved a finger to stop Gertrude if he had understood how much of a threat she was, because… as much as Elias is “not exactly big on action” (Mary Keay’s words), I really doubt this one had to do with ignorance or an ~accidental~ lack of oversight. Elias didn’t have any reason to stop Gertrude when she was eliminating the concurrence? Somehow, however, he indeed managed to do something particularly impressive, in the fact that… nobody seems to be holding a grudge against him? Jude Perry clearly cheered at Gertrude’s death, yet hadn’t apparently tried to burn down the Institute or anything, and even considered that she owed Elias one for killing Gertrude, ergo she didn’t Take Care Of Jon although he pissed her off. Did Elias himself leak the rumours that he was behind Gertrude’s death, in order to get some sympathy/tolerance from the other avatars?

But the Lukases, really? How did Elias manage to get them to give money to the Institute even though an avatar (unwillingly) affiliated to Beholding had made sure that their ritual wouldn’t succeed during this round of the game? Is it because the ties between Mordechai Lukas and Jonah Magnus, and the founding of the Institute, are too deep overall and that managing to neutralise even your technical allies is regarded as fair game? Is it because there is a deep, visceral arrangement between the Institute and the Lukases (maybe having to do with Barnabas Bennett’s bones)? Did the Lukases only begin to give money because Elias had gotten rid of Gertrude?

It also shed another light on the fact that Elias… wasn’t really keen on allowing Jon anywhere near the Lukases, back in season one:

(MAG017) ELIAS: Do you have a moment? ARCHIVIST: Not really, I’m sort of in the middle of something. ELIAS: I understand, it’s just that Miss Herne has lodged a complaint. ARCHIVIST: A complaint? I could just as easily complain about her wasting my time! ELIAS: That’s not how it works, Jonathan. […] Regardless, I would prefer that you not antagonise anyone connected to the Lukas family. They are patrons of the Institute, after all. ARCHIVIST: Fine, fine, I’ll be more lovely. Now, can I get back to work?

(MAG033) ARCHIVIST: […] In addition to such business ventures, the Lukas family also provides funding to several academic and research organisations, including the Magnus Institute. Much as I want to dig further into this, especially given certain parallels with case 0161301, Elias gets very twitchy when we look into anything that might conceivably have funding repercussions.

(I’m still UGHBVGHBHJ that someone sternly called Jon “Jonathan” at some point, and that that someone was Elias. Jon, you know you effed up when… =D) Could have indeed been “JonATHAN, I need that mONEY, just SHUT THE HELL UP when it comes to them”, but also… something about making sure that some Lukases wouldn’t try to get rid of Jon as retribution, since they hadn’t been able to get back at Gertrude, when Jon was still a baby Archivist in the making and unable to defend himself against Spooks? And is it because Elias hadn’t done anything to stop Gertrude that Peter mentioned that he found Elias to be “protective” of his people, when he first appeared?

(MAG100) PETER: […] Now. Am I to understand: you don’t work here? BRIAN: No… I was just, um… making a s–statement, or, or whatever. Um… PETER: That’s probably for the best. Elias can be quite… “protective” of his people. Never really understood why.

That, or the Lukases had put a Restraining Order on all Archivists From The Magnus Institute at this point.

- It’s something I still wonder about, from time to time: the relationship between Elias and Gertrude. Elias clearly knew a lot more than what he let on, although he admitted that Gertrude “got very good at hiding things” from him (MAG102). It’s also related to what/who Elias is exactly (a thing that body-hops, or has been around for centuries/the creation of the Institute or even before? The actual Elias Bouchard, known pothead with terrible grades, who came to the Institute in 1991 and maybe got a revelation or something there?): did Gertrude and Elias’s relationship change over time? Was Elias still New at the job when Gertrude was operating, and genuinely didn’t understand that she had wrapped him around her little finger until very late? Was it mutual manipulation? Was Elias especially lenient since she was doing the dirty work, while he pretended not to know anything about it? Were they actually… actively collaborating, since Gertrude was apparently keeping her collaborators in the dark from each other – Gerry didn’t know that Leitner was hiding in the tunnels, Leitner didn’t know that she had been travelling with Gerry to stop the Unknowing, neither ever mentioned Adelard and Adelard hasn’t mentioned them either, and we still don’t know whether she indeed burned “Eric’s” page (likely Eric Delano, one of her assistants, and strongly suspected to be Gerry’s father – but since it wasn’t Made Official and Jonny pointedly eluded the question in the season 3 Q&A, I’m suspecting that the page might still be somewhere and that Gertrude might have given him sensible information that she wanted to hide, as another trump card in case… something happened to her). We know that Gertrude’s spending was approved by the Institute, including her travelling expenses (which baffled Jon a lot), and given how Elias overlooked Jon’s journey starting MAG103… it appears that Gertrude and Elias at least had a neutral ground on some matters.

I still hope that there is a tape, somewhere, of their last conversation… (We did get Leitner’s murder live, so hey, we COULD get a tape recording Gertrude’s murder, too. Equality.)

- I already made the compilation here but still: it remains so far HYSTERICAL to me that Peter just can’t shut up about Elias, while Elias… has never ever mentioned Peter. Ever. Do they even truly know each other? Who knows. (Does Elias know. Have they been sharing a flat for the past twenty years without Elias even knowing.)

- I was a bit curious about the fact that… most avatars tend to pun so much about their Patron, but Peter doesn’t really use idioms about being alone or lonely? (I had wondered at some point if “The Lonely” wasn’t actually a misconception and their god/Fear actually had more to do with time, since Peter throws references about time pretty often.)

… And maybe it’s in fact that……………. (it’s atrocious and I hate him)………. the equivalent of Lonely puns is when Peter uses “I” when you would expect him to use “we”.

(MAG108) PETER: Ah, I see. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. It’s one of Elias’s little jokes. MARTIN: I don– What? PETER: Did he suggest you record a statement today? One that mentioned me?

(MAG134) PETER: Martin… it’s going to be decades, if not centuries, before I get another chance to bring Forsaken into this world. […] The point is that, yes, obviously, if I last that long, I’m going to try again.

That. Would be fitting for a servant of loneliness (turning a matter of community/shared work into something individualistic) and I h a t e it…

Though apparently, Beholding is sneaking his way into Peter’s speech pattern too~ It was already there when he was appearing in season 3 (MAG108: “Be seeing you, as it were.” / MAG120: “Look, don’t let Elias get to you.”, “Oh, what’s that look for? You won! I am sorry if it doesn’t look quite like you hoped, but… here we are.”, “Oh, and Elias said you’d probably be keeping a close eye on the Archivist’s condition”, “And don’t look so down!”), but it keeps going:

(MAG134) PETER: […] I’ll see what else I can find to help with your reservations […]. I’m only one person, and I can’t keep an eye on everything.

And that last one was Typical Jon Speech (Jon uses “keep[ing] an eye on” a lot) so =D Peter, Beholding is getting to you, whether you want it or not.

- Another Peter thing is that he tends to use Biblical references, quite often compared to other characters:

(MAG108) PETER: Elias Bouchard, getting his hands dirty. Well-well. Must be the End Times.

(MAG134) PETER: […] he’s in there three days, and then what do you know! He manages to pull himself out of the coffin, like a grubby Jesus. And he even brings a Penitent Thief along, in the form of your pet murderer!

It was a bit blatant with Mordechai Lukas (very Jewish name, and Barnabas’s mention that a judge would never choose his side… felt like clear-cut antisemitism), and religious names were present in MAG033 (Tadeas Dahl’s name, the first mate of The Tundra, is close to “Thaddaeus”, one of the Apostles, “Peter” himself being another one; Jon also mentioned that the boat company was mainly owned by Nathaniel Lukas, “Nathaniel” being sometimes fused with Bartholomew), though Evan and Conrad (Konrad?) are a bit out of the loop. Evan had told Naomi that his family was “very religious, and he never had been”, which sounded like an Accurate Way to describe your family when they’re devoted to a God Of Loneliness, but it looks like they’re still raised digging a bit in the Old/New Testament? Or is it just a Peter thing? At the very least, the way he uses the similes as a frame of reference is quite noticeable.

(Not the first time that we’re meeting avatars with a very personal take on pre-established religion or mythology! Tom Haan from The Flesh was also invested, and The People’s Church of the Divine Host was created by “defrocked Pentecostal minister” Maxwell Rayner.)

- Holy Mew, is Peter hilarious even (especially) when he’s terrifying. There is something so fascinating in Alasdair Stuart’s delivery, and I’m not sure I’m able to pinpoint it exactly, but it’s mostly… the overall bouncy rhythm of his tone, combined with the fragmented syntax? Peter doesn’t pause when you’d expect him to, so there is always an element of sudden, unexpected anomaly? when you follow what he is saying. And that’s even without the CONTENT of what he’s saying, he’s so… savage… and gratuitously shittalking… everyone… while at the same time… being a facsimile of a Good Person Caring About Your Consent And Personal Investment…

(MAG134) PETER: … Look. I’m not gonna pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to. It won’t even work unless you’re willing to commit. In any case, I have plenty of preparations to work on myself, before it’s ready. I’ll see what else I can find to help with your reservations in the meantime, mmkay? Just… don’t hesitate too long. We are on a deadline, after all.

Peter “mmkay?” Lukas. (Was it a nod to Martin’s “Mm–okay.” from earlier in the conversation? Because then, Peter plz, you have the same nasty habits of stealing cutesy wording from people around you as Elias, who had stolen Melanie’s “Knock knock?” from MAG098 in MAG104.)

Fear Gods care about your consent, your choices and you willingness to give yourself to it uwu AND I LOVE THAT PETER’S MAIN ARGUMENT AS TO WHY HE IS ~TRUSTWORTHY~ ON THE MATTER OF THE NEW FEAR IS:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin… it’s going to be decades, if not centuries, before I get another chance to bring Forsaken into this world. Your last Archivist saw to that. Honestly, if Elias hadn’t killed that woman, I’d have been very tempted. I warned him she was a danger– MARTIN: Peter! PETER: –but he’s always– MARTIN: Peter. PETER: … Anyway. The point is that, yes, obviously, if I last that long, I’m going to try again. But I’m… rather keen for the world not to end, in the meantime?

Basically: “yES, Martin, I tried to turn the world into a factory farm for my Fear God, and you BET ELIAS’S ASS THAT I WILL DO IT AGAIN if given the chance – so help me get a chance at it?”, with bonus “I’d have murdered that 70-something year old woman, trust me.” Also:

(MAG134) MARTIN: So… so what, you’re afraid of the competition? PETER: Not at all. Honestly, that’s the sort of thing I normally relish; I’ve always been a little bit of a gambler, and the higher the stakes, the better.

yEAH HUM H U M I’m glad that it was confirmed that Peter Is A Gambler, because it was something we could see in Vincent Yang’s story but uuuuh, Peter… Peter… there was something else we could also make of your gambling habits in that anecdote:

(MAG066, Vincent Yang) “I blinked hard as I started to make out two figures above me. One was Salesa, staring at me with an expression of curiosity. The other I didn’t know, though I vaguely recognized him as one of the captains that made port here occasionally – captain Larell, maybe, or Lukas? I don’t really remember. He looked at me, then over to Salesa, shrugged, and handed him a twenty-pound note, before turning around and walking out of the shipping container – which I saw I was once again inside.”

… you apparently bet that the guy would be dead, ie: you tend to gamble on the Worst Outcome and/or you tend to lose. That’s not especially reassuring given what you’re fearing yourself.

(Assuming Elias and Peter indeed know each other and are on relatively good terms: did they have bets on Jon’s overall decisions? Does Peter sometimes visit Elias in prison, did they bet on how many days it would take for him to descend into the coffin? Which one of the assistants would die first? Which Fear would leave a scar on Jon next? Which ritual Gertrude would derail next?)

Peter is terrible and yet, terribly honest about it? I mean, there is obviously a catch, there are obviously things he’s not telling, and you don’t want to trust him, but the comparison with Elias is just jarring. Elias wasn’t especially subtle but he still hid who he was for 80 episodes – we only discovered that he was a Spook himself through Leitner, and Elias would have probably kept up the charade even longer without his intervention. He only admitted to everything when Jon came to confront him with witnesses in MAG092, laying on the table the overall current threat and then… Elias “I should have thought preventing the horrific transformation of our world is not solely my concern!” (MAG102) Bouchard never bothered to mention anything about setting up The Watcher’s Crown, although Gerry mentioned in MAG111 that it would be coming soon-ish, and Peter mentioned that Elias had intended to launch “his ritual” before it wasn’t “an option anymore” back in MAG126. (To Elias’s credits: Beholding’s ritual probably doesn’t count as “horrific transformation” in ~his eyes~.)

There could still be a twist about whether Elias really wants to set up The Rite of the Watcher’s Crown (he… hasn’t been extremely good at making the Archive staff want to help? Honestly, before MAG120, I still wasn’t absolutely sure that Elias was into Beholding in the first place) but. Still. He kept veryyyy quiet about it, while Peter has just casually dropped on the table that yes, obviously, he would have liked to “bring Forsaken into this world” and would like to try again, thank you very much. Peter acts all friendly and faux-caring, hand on his heart and all, while being casually awful, but at least, he doesn’t keep quiet about being awful? He is his own shade of terribleness <33

- Peter’s affableness cracks me up so much (and is genuinely terrifying at the same time! But well: we already know he’s bad news, we already know his family is dedicated to a god of Loneliness, we already know he sacrifices people on his boat, we already know he’s a Spook; it’s the fact that he behaves like a genial uncle which is… hilarious):

(MAG120) PETER: Please, call me Peter. MARTIN: N–no. No, I think I’m okay. PETER: As you like. Look, don’t let Elias get to you. You did very well.

(MAG120) PETER: […] Oh! And if you want to talk to a counsellor, the Institute will of course cover any cost. MARTIN: Hum… thanks? PETER: Don’t mention it. I know how it can be with a new boss. I’d like to help you ease into it.

(MAG120) PETER: Marvellous. And don’t look so down! I know, change can be scary, but eventually it happens just the same. I think we’re going to great things, Martin. Great. Things.

(MAG126) PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! Please don’t think I’m upset, it’s just… not ideal. Shows how much work we still have ahead of us.

(MAG134) PETER: […] I’ll see what else I can find to help with your reservations in the meantime, mmkay?

I can’t believe the Fifteenth Fear wasn’t “Boss who sounds like he just came out of managerial school and learnt How To Try To Pretend To Be Your Friend”. (That “mmkay?” pETER…)

(- THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MENTIONING YOU HAVE A ~FAMILY THING~, TO MARTIN, WHO, AS FAR AS WE KNOW, DOESN’T HAVE ANY FAMILY LEFT AFTER HIS MOTHER D I E D A FEW MONTHS AGO, TWO MONTHS AFTER HE LEARNED THAT SHE HATED HIS GUTS BECAUSE HE LOOKED LIKE THE FATHER WHO HAD ABANDONED THEM WHEN HE WAS A KID… rude, Peter, rude, but then, I guess it was also The Point: even the avatar of loneliness has a family, who sometimes organises gathering. Martin… doesn’t. And isn’t even supposed to talk to his friends and his crush right now.) (Spiders, keep him company? ;w;)

- I have absolutely no idea what Peter’s plan is about and why he needs Lonely + Beholding powers to oppose The Extinction. At least officially, he’s not trying to bring out The Lonely’s ritual since Gertrude ensured that their recent attempt had gone very wrong. If it was about casting it to the Shadow Realm/The Lonely, I understand, but why Beholding…? Is it about neutralizing a fear through categorising it, as Jane Prentiss had mentioned…?

- I LOVE that Peter is so… uncaring and unimpressed with Jon overall.

(MAG134) PETER: And as far as the coffin goes, there’s not much I can do about a bull-headed Archivist– MARTIN: [EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] PETER: –who seems hellbent on self-destruction. My powers only extend so far. […] Because, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure what’s been going on with him, these past couple of weeks. […] Jon wilfully hurled himself into the coffin. I did not intervene, because thankfully, I did not agree to protect your friends from their own idiocy. MARTIN: [HUFF] PETER: Though actually, he gave it more consideration that I thought he would. MARTIN: He’s not a moron. PETER: … If you say so! Regardless, he’s in there three days, and then what do you know! He manages to pull himself out of the coffin, like a grubby Jesus. […] Now, from my point of view, so far, none of this has been any of my business. We have bigger concerns than this little soap opera you call an Archive.

It would make sense that an avatar of Loneliness is especially bored/unimpressed with someone who is doing things out of CONCERN, for people he LIKES and wants to PROTECT because he CARES… but then, Martin is also doing this, and Peter is not ridiculising him (too much) for it. So why the disdain for Jon. Is it because Elias gushed about Jon too much.

- S O B ABOUT THE WAY MARTIN STARTED HIS INTRODUCTION OF THE STATEMENT… because it was textbook “Jon at the beginning of season 3” ;;

(MAG081) [CLICK–] ARCHIVIST: Statement of Jonathan Sims, Head Arch– [SIGH] Former Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding a childhood encounter with a book formerly possessed by Jurgen Leitner.

(MAG134) [CLICK–] MARTIN: [INHALE] … Right. Martin Blackwood, Archi– [SIGH] … Assistant to Peter Lukas, Head of the Magnus Institute, recording statement number 0060122.

Martin’s own title for his introduction was “archival assistant”, they both got stuck on the “arch–”… :: Another similarity between Jon and Martin: they can’t pronounce French to save their lives. (mtb.)

- Surprisingly, there was no sound of a ticking clock in the background… So did the episode take place somewhere else than in Elias’s office, this time around? Or has the clock… stopped…?

(I’m obsessing a bit with the clock but it has been there in the background to mean that things were taking place in Elias’s office before. So I can’t help but get plagued by an ominous feeling every time we hear it… but also, here, that we didn’t hear it, when the previous Martin-Peter exchange had it in the background. As if, I don’t know: time stopped and something is in suspension, something that should have happened didn’t, or what small Beholding protection was left around Martin has been stripped down. I don’t know.)

- It could come in handy at some point, since Peter is… not extremely reliable in that aspect, but amongst the things we never really explored, there were the matter of Gertrude and Jon(!)’s “protections”:

(MAG078) MICHAEL: Even with all the protections you have on, I doubt you can survive them now.

(MAG079) MICHAEL: I think I might also kill you. It would be easier than killing the Archivist; none of you are protected down here.

(MAG080) LEITNER: Hardly a book. Barely twelve pages. It is entitled A Disappearance. […] I have found, however, that reading only one or two words is sufficient to hide me from the prying eyes of your master. It allowed me to talk with Gertrude in relative safety […]. […] LEITNER: How did you know I was here? ELIAS: I didn’t. You’re very well hidden. But Jon is not, and he failed to take the same precautions I’m sure you took for granted with Gertrude. I knew he was talking to someone.

(MAG101) ARCHIVIST: But you… you never tried to take revenge on Gertrude? MICHAEL: She knew how to protect herself. She knew what she was creating.

(MAG102) ELIAS: She was… She got very good at hiding things from me.

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “I assume whatever ‘surveillance’ meant you needed me to move it, is only keeping track of you, but let me know if there’s anything I need to be on the lookout for.”

(=> Gertrude knew that she was under “surveillance” back in 2012, and she probably meant Elias with that, and yet, managed to escape him more than he’s comfortable with. So it IS possible.)

So: 1°) there are ways to escape Elias’s prying eyes without relying on the tunnels or the A Disappearance book (was it why Gertrude apparently had something against all representations of eyes? She was cutting eyes from her books and Melanie had found eyeless dolls in the hangar), 2°) Jon also had protections on somehow by the end of season 2, without even knowing it, and we never really learn what it was and who was responsible for them (I mean… it didn’t help him when they were attacked by Prentiss? Would have Beholding lifted a finger (... batted an eyelash from its lidless eye.) to save its own Archivist?)

- There is something about the fact that everyone has begun to call Basira “detective”:

(MAG122) BASIRA: Alright. And you don’t know why this guy would have left a tape recorder? GEORGIE: You’re the detective. BASIRA: And you’re sure it was him who left it?

(MAG127) ELIAS: … Good evening. Detective. BASIRA: I’m not a detective. ELIAS: Of course.

(MAG134) PETER: […] I went to help, but was too late. Then, your detective friend– MARTIN: No, she’s not a dete– PETER: –went on one of Elias’s wild-goose chases

But I don’t know if it’s like, a new running gag or something more. On the one hand, even the “… and Daisy” joke turned out to have Something More behind it (when Elias added “and Daisy, I suppose” amongst the Archives’ losses in MAG120, he probably already knew that she wasn’t actually dead). On the other hand, it could also be due to… Georgie’s initial misconception, and Elias and Peter having a very twisted sense of humour: Georgie called Basira “detective” because she assumed she was one and/or because Melanie had snarked about it to her because Basira now “deals in intel” => Elias Saw the whole conversation and reused it => Peter followed Basira when she went to see Elias, and picked up on it too.

Jared had also identified Basira as police, though, and it’s… really strange that Basira, who resigned back in season 2 (more than one year ago!), who wasn’t taken by The Hunt like Daisy, is nowadays perceived as police more than she was before. Coule she be collaborating a bit with Section 31’d officers…? I’m not totally buying the speculation about “detective” being a Beholding title, though I gueeeeess it has that observing/following/trying to uncover the truth dimension to it…

To quote Basira herself: “I don’t know.”

- There were things that I found especially clever in the way information about the new Fear was delivered to us:

* It was the content of a letter addressed to someone who wasn’t the current reader (Gertrude vs. Martin); the letter was reporting the story of someone (Bernadette) who had studied the life of a Millerite. Different narrators, from different times (Martin reading the letter in 2018 / Adelard writing the letter in 2006 / Bernadette living that experience at least a few months prior / the life and disappearance of Garland Hillier from 1844 to 1867), which… could explain, already, if Adelard misunderstood something.

* The Fifteenth Fear is France, and tbh, yes.

* The way Adelard predicted and quickly addressed Gertrude’s objections and pointed out the motifs that we could be tempted to associate to another fear (Spiral, Lonely, End) but also highlighted that their effects were different. Also, in this context: if it had been something due to The Lonely… Peter likely should have been able to tell given the description. He didn’t. So it indeed wasn’t The Lonely (unless he’s misleading us hard).

* The fact that Adelard didn’t even see the Inheritors himself, that they were only described as “There is nothing done in the history of humanity that deserves the things that come after us.” (FROM SOMEONE WELL-VERSED IN HISTORY…), complete with static, was especially chilling? How bad can they be, to reach this extent – especially when Adelard highlighted immediately afterwards the many ways humans could so easily manage to destroy the world and themselves…?

* The whole description of the wrongness of the flat, of the whole not!Paris, was chilling. The stillness and eeriness reminded me of the remains of Pompeii, the cocoons of the bodies that were found?

* And yet, though removed in time, the thing is coming closer and closer:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “I have my suspicions she may find herself disappearing. She has that… quality about her, I’m sure you know what I mean, o–of an unfinished meal. And I can only hope that when the second course starts, she can remember her way back to Garland Hillier’s apartment once more. But of course, the evidence suggests that, in the end, even he wasn’t able to.”

Adelard assumed that Garland Hillier had disappeared because of the new Fear. Bernadette mentioned that she was supposed to meet with a “Monsieur Pinard” and since we didn’t hear about him… we could guess that he was a victim. Adelard was pretty confident that Bernadette, who had escaped once, was still a target and would be snatched soon (and WOW does “the quality of an unfinished meal” feel… like the accurate way to describe a few statement-givers that we’ve met or heard from), and… we still don’t know what happened to Adelard. In the end, because he was researching them, was he consumed by the Inheritors, too…?

(I’m still suspecting that Peter could be linked to the fact that he doesn’t seem to be around anymore: how come Peter knows that Adelard was researching that new Fear? And Adelard had been the only one to use “Terminus” to refer to The End (MAG113), until Peter in this episode…)

- The way Adelard talked about powers:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “I have never envied you your position, Gertrude. I have never coveted your gifts, as I know the terrible costs that come with them. But honestly, trying to get a description of these… things, these ‘Inheritors’ from Bernadette Delcour, made me wish I could just pull the image from her lips, like you would have been able to.”

… Sounds like he indeed didn’t have any of his own and/or is a “neutral” who miiight actually be a bit more aligned than he thinks? He mentioned that unlike Hunters, he wouldn’t be able to kill a powerful avatar (MAG113) and we only know that he was able to use the table against the Not!Them to bind it (MAG078), though he was really wary of the table itself. We know that there is still that Mystery Statement of 1991 somewhere (it could be how he came in contact with Gertrude for the first time?) and we’ll have to learn at some point what happened to him (;; posthumous letter left before he was snatched by The Extinction or something else? … or he became an avatar of The Extinction himself and screamscreamscream) so… we’ll definitely hear yet more about him. But I wanna know, gdi!! >w<

- So. The Extinction it is (complete with a few alternative names: “This is a fear of extinction. Of change […] of catastrophic change. A change in our world that will wipe out what it means to be “us”, and leave something else in its place. The Extinction. The Terrible Change. The-Future-Without-Us.”), unless Adelard misunderstood something at its chore and other characters will be able to correct it. His reasoning makes sense, though, and is very evocative of real-life and modern-era concerns?

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “Mankind will warp the world so much it kills us all, and leaves only a thousand years of plastic behind. Technology will strip us of what it means to be human, and leave us something alien, and cold. We will press a button, that in a moment, will destroy everything we have ever been. Animals are witnessing the end of their entire species within a single generation. These are new fears, Gertrude, and a new Power is rising to consume them.”

And… given that MAG134’s letter (“dated 22nd of January, 2006”) was apparently anterior to MAG113 (“Statement undated, likely circa 2012” – well, assuming that Jon is reliable in dating papers since… if he had a degree in that, we would know.), and that Adelard had noted in MAG113 that Gertrude was “dismissive of the possibility”… it really sounds like there was something to do with the phenomenon of the old generation not being very anchored in the world’s current concerns? Gertrude was amazingly good at handling the Fears, she had fifty years of experience with them and… it would be understandable that, at the same time, she would have overlooked the possibility of a new one, feeling that this wasn’t anything new, that it could be categorised in the pre-existing ones.

If Adelard nailed it and if this Fifteenth power indeed exists… it means that we’ll need a new system to “balance” things out, after Smirke – or maybe it’s precisely because Smirke categorised them so much that what was left at the borders managed to get so powerful? If there is the need of a new Architecture, I’m half squinting at the fact that the Chinese word chosen to refer to Jon in MAG105 could be translated as “architect”, but… I’m still thinking that Basira could end up creating a new equilibrium, since, contrary to Jon, she was immediately good at drawing connections, at understanding how things could work out (e.g. what she noticed about The Dark in MAG108, and how quickly she assimilated the categorisation between the Fears and a bit of their inner politics).

- wOOPSIE does the scale of The Extinction sound like… another category on its own. While The End sounds more like a personal fear, this one is more about a whole community?

I’m still unsure how to categorise MAG065 – “Binary” and MAG122 – “Zombie”; I don’t really feel like either matched this one? I change my mind every time I listen to “Binary” and this time around, I was stricken by simply… how much Spiral it sounded? (Fear of losing one's mind, an incompatibility between two manners of being, Sergei’s reactions which sounded a lot like what Tim had described while in Michael’s corridor.) I really don’t see it as part of The Extinction (or at least not in the way Adelard described it): Sergei had a personal fear of death and ended up experiencing Worse while trying to escape it (which sounded textbook The End), not so much about the fear of being erased and replaced or about a consciousness of the world as you knew it getting destroyed and destroying you at the same time…? Meanwhile, “Zombie” had the replacement motive, but not the narrator’s fear of getting replaced or erased – mostly the idea that everyone else was a fake?

I’m still not sure about these ones and how to look at them, and I feel like it will be the case even when season 5 is over, godsdamnit x””) Everyone has a few of Those Statements that they have trouble categorising, mm? (I know that a lot of people is having a hard time with MAG114’s, which I read as textbook Spiral? But then, I’m at a loss with MAG065 and MAG122, and I guess it’s a good thing, technically, that everyone is at a loss about different ones…)

- However, the way Adelard described The Extinction REALLY put me in mind of… the Not!Them.

Not!Sasha was clear on the fact that it was part of The Stranger, and indeed, its effects (and what feeds it) has to do with the familiar made unfamiliar (MA080: “Once upon a time there was a monster, but no one realised. Sometimes someone did! And then they were scared, so that was good.”). But… when someone is eaten/destroyed/consumed by the Not!Them, does it actually feed The Extinction? Knowing that you will disappear, that your whole existence will be erased and rewritten?

Adelard had tracked the Not!Them for years: did he begin to consider the possibility of a new Fear because of it? Could it be possible that his views of the Not!Them blinded him a bit in the way he tried to define The Extinction…?

- I’m really curious and at the same time NOT to picture what an avatar of The Extinction would be like, if it gets any. (But my brain provides: alt-right politician in nice proper suit, complete with stiff frozen smile.)

- IT MAKES SENSE but in the meantime, I’m still going to laugh (and cry) so much over the fact that… when the series began, Jon’s main concern was to clean and order a dusty shady archive? And now, their main goal has evolved to: they’ll have to fight against the embodiment of the Fear of climate change or nuclear disaster. … Well, Jon had already highlighted how the situation had escalated, back with Georgie in MAG093 and then in MAG117:

(MAG093) GEORGIE: Jonathan Sims, are you trying to save the world? ARCHIVIST: I… Yeah. I… I guess I am.

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: [….] So, I–I guess, sometime in the next few days, I go on a, eh, commando mission to blow up a wax museum. It’s not exactly what I was expecting. F–from an archiving job.

(bABE…) It… does put in perspective why Peter is so dismissive of the Archives’ problems:

(MAG134) PETER: Now, from my point of view, so far, none of this has been any of my business. We have bigger concerns than this little soap opera you call an Archive.

I mean. He has a point, but at the same time, shut up Peter, let us live :w Do we talk about your blatant tsundere crush on Elias, or on your own sense of Drama with your precisely timed entrances? (YES WE DO.)

But. Yep. Oops. If the new Fear is cataclysmic enough to basically erase everything else and play it solo, no wonder Peter is going :/ about Jon’s philosophical dilemma about feeling alone, changing, what is it that make you “human” or a “monster”, etc. (At the same time: shut up, Peter, don’t act as if you’re not responsible for the loneliness.)

… I wonder if we’re heading towards a “lesser of two evils” deal and this could be the way to get Jon to… willingly try to participate in the Watcher’s Crown…? (I gueesssss that there is still a possibility that the Archives team would manage to completely neutralise it before it becomes an actual threat, but given that we barely know anything about it and that Elias has kept real quiet about it, I feel like it’s meant to become an actual, real Thing at some point? Given that one of the main themes in season 4 so far, thanks to Melanie, Daisy, Helen, Oliver, Jared and Jon himself, has been around the matter of choices in relation to the Entities, and the idea that although they can influence you, you can also choose what to do with these powers, and the actions you take are your own… it would feel like a step back to have Jon utterly manipulated into being a participant, unaware that he is contributing to this one in the end? So if it’s about choice and taking a dubious option out of despair…)

- I Do Not Like This Mention Of Yet Another Door For Very Personal Reasons:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “It talked of Garland Hillier’s “new revelation”, about the absolute change of the world in terms that seemed at first elegiac, but later seemed… almost panicked, with the final entry simply repeating the words [STATIC:] ‘La porte est la porte.’ ‘The door is the door.’ […] The door had been damaged by the builders who uncovered the place, and there were several distinct gaps in the wood. But as she walked back out, the door appeared to be whole. She ignored it, and left anyways, trying to reason it all as a strange quirk of memory. Just one of those things. […] She was more precise on her escape. Remembering Hillier’s words about the door, she had just enough time to retreat back to the apartment and barricade herself inside. Then, she waited until the entrance changed again, and she could emerge back into the world she remembered. At least, that’s my interpretation of events. […] I may try to interview her again later, though I have my suspicions she may find herself disappearing. She has that… quality about her, I’m sure you know what I mean, o–of an unfinished meal. And I can only hope that when the second course starts, she can remember her way back to Garland Hillier’s apartment once more. But of course, the evidence suggests that, in the end, even he wasn’t able to.

… because who has been strongly associated with “doors”?

(MAG080) ARCHIVIST: […] The door opened, and inside was dark. Against that darkness I could see the thin grey strands wrapped around the limbs of my former bully. And then, from inside, stretched two impossibly long limbs, bony and covered in coarse, black hair. For a second, there was almost the start of a scream, but the legs wrapped around him too quickly, and he disappeared into the doorway and out of sight. It slammed behind him, and he was gone, taking the book with him.

(MAG047) MICHAEL: In any case, it doesn’t matter. The Wanderer had a brief respite, but it’s over now. ARCHIVIST: Well, you’re too late. She– She’s gone! MICHAEL: [DISTORTED LAUGH] Yes… Ah… Did you notice which door she left through? ARCHIVIST: Yes… It w– MICHAEL: [CHUCKLES] ARCHIVIST: … wait! No, there was– MICHAEL: There has never been a door there, Archivist, your mind plays tricks on you.

(MAG078) MICHAEL: You – Need – A door. ARCHIVIST: NO. No, I–I just… I need…

(MAG101) MICHAEL: Good. Right this way. [A DOOR CREAKS] Open it. Open it and this will all be over. […] HELEN: The door is open if you’re ready? ARCHIVIST: No, not, not really, but…

(MAG120) ELIAS: […] There is a door in front of him. A yellow door. He knows the dream it used to lead to; he knows it well. But that’s not where it leads anymore. He does not know what is behind it anymore, and he is deathly afraid of finding out. The Archivist turns away.

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] It’s… hard. It’s like there’s a–a–a door, in my mind. And behind it, is… i–is the entire ocean. Before, I didn’t notice it, but now, I know it’s there, and I can’t forget it, and I can feel the pressure of the water on it. I, I, I can keep it closed… but sometimes, when I’m around p–people, or–or places, or… ideas, a drop or two will push through the cracks, at the edges of the door. And I’ll… know something. BASIRA: … What happens, if you open the door? [PAUSE] ARCHIVIST: I drown.

(MAG131) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I don’t want to open it! I’m not going to. MELANIE: [SIGH] [KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK] She’s been helping us. ARCHIVIST: It has never helped anyone. Not without a cost. […] Right. [INHALE] [OPENS THE DOOR]

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: [STATIC RISING.] No need for that. I’m willing. [STATIC DECREASES.] [REMOVES THE COFFIN’S PADLOCK] … Right. [CHAIN FALLING ON THE GROUND] [COFFIN OPENING] [CREAKING SOUND]

Mr Spider’s door, which Jon almost knocked on, that swallowed the bully instead of him when he was eight. Michael’s door, which took Helen right in front of him, which Jon had to open to escape the Not!Them, which should have killed Jon another time before Helen replaced Michael and opened another door for Jon – Helen’s own door, that Jon rejected and feared to open in his nightmares, before he agreed to enter the corridors once more in order to meet Jared. The metaphorical door in Jon’s mind, holding back the ocean of knowledge that could drown him. Even: the trapdoor leading back to the Archives, when Tim and Jon went face to holes with Jane Prentiss (MAG039); the door that Jon closed on Leitner alive and reopened on Leitner’s body (MAG080); the door (or trapdoor?) which was the only thing between the group and the Unknowing while Daisy was planting bombs (MAG118); the coffin’s lid, which he opened to join Daisy; the door to Jon’s office, on which nobody ever knocks when they want to find him inside… Jon keeps being surrounded by doorways and thresholds that he has to cross, whose crossings mean a change – whether he loses something or manages to get it back.

I’m… worried about this new door, honestly.

(Because it feels so, so easy and gut-wrenching to picture either Jon or Martin desperately trying to open it while the other is – willingly – staying on the wrong side to try to contain or neutralise these Inheritors…?) (*“Sakura Nagashi” playing in the background.*)

- CHEER UP, BIGGEST TWIST: MARTIN WAS ALMOST JON’S ANCHOR /o/ Looks like he was mostly used as a puppet when it came to saving Jon, but still! (Although yeah, hum, who else could have come to put the tape recorders around the coffin except him? Basira was away. Melanie… probably wouldn’t have been able to WANT to save Jon like Martin did, allowing The Web to pull him towards that action – if it is indeed The Web.) Mayyyyybe Jon was wrong about how he summarised ~Her~, because hum:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: Statement ends. The Web does seem to have a preference for those who prefer not to assert themselves.

… it really doesn’t sound like that applies to Martin? (It wouldn’t be surprising at aaaaaall that Jon has trouble understanding how The Web works, even more given that he’s “a tiny bit” influenced by it too.)

- I am SO GLAD about… everything about Martin. I am so glad that, although he was reluctant to call that Lonely guy “Peter” at the end of season 3 and is now calling him that way? He’s using that right, that Peter gave him and insisted on giving him, to make Peter SHUT THE FUCK UP and it’s glorious:

(MAG126) PETER: I’m just saying, that we’d all be better off if your Archivist actually knew how to archive. MARTIN: Peter. PETER: … Yes. Well.

(MAG134) PETER: […] Honestly, if Elias hadn’t killed that woman, I’d have been very tempted. I warned him she was a danger– MARTIN: Peter! PETER: –but he’s always– MARTIN: Peter. PETER: … Anyway.

I am SO glad that Martin is keeping a firm grip on the bastard, that he’s unfurling his frustration and snarking and snapping SO MUCH and taking none of Peter’s shit:

(MAG134) MARTIN: And you thought that since I’m so lonely already, I’d be ideal. PETER: Yes! MARTIN: You see, the thing is, Peter, I’m still not all that keen on being part of any ritual you set up. You know, in fact, if I were to be blunt, I’d say that would be suicidally stupid.

(MAG134) PETER: Because, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure what’s been going on with him, these past couple of weeks. MARTIN: Oh – oh, yeah, sure. […] What, turning invisible and eavesdropping? PETER: If you like. But… I’m only one person, and I can’t keep an eye on everything. MARTIN: Or… anything, apparently!

mARTIN BLACKWOOD, PEOPLE. (Also, I’m still rolling on the floor that Peter very honestly admitted that he picked Martin because he Smelt Like Loneliness. Peter, you vulture.)

Martin also learnt to Master the unimpressed exhalations and the silences:

(MAG134) PETER: […] And as far as the coffin goes, there’s not much I can do about a bull-headed Archivist– MARTIN: [EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] PETER: –who seems hellbent on self-destruction. My powers only extend so far. MARTIN: Mm-mm. PETER: … Look. I’m not gonna pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to.

Which reminds me of MELANIE in front of Elias in MAG106 (before, erh, everything went awful.) so clearly, Martin has been upgrading himself. He had always been snappy but he’s getting so amazing at it lately and I… want… Jon… to see that… so much…

(On the one hand, it would probably be a recipe for disaster and arguments. On the other hand, if Georgie is any indication: Jon tends to love A Whole Lot people who don’t take any shit from him and/or could just plainly wreck him (Daisy.) so… I’m just picturing Martin snapping and snapping out of reflex, after months of intermittent cohabitation with Peter, and Jon’s stupid heart jumping to “… dOKI?!”.)

- … Okay, at the same time, panic aboard because Gerry did mention to Jon that the Lukases are good at grooming, and it’s clear that Peter is currently changing strategy:

(MAG126) PETER: You talked to him. MARTIN: I… I, I tried not to, I–I, I didn’t mean to… PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! Please don’t think I’m upset, it’s just… not ideal. Shows how much work we still have ahead of us.

(MAG134) PETER: … Anyway. Point is, I’m not your captor or your torturer. I’m not gonna tell you to stop talking to him, or even saving him if it comes to it. If that’s not a decision you’re willing to make yourself, me scolding you isn’t going to help.

Is this reverse-psychology from Peter? (=> If he sounds less scolding, then Martin will find the idea of talking to Jon less appealing.) Is it a test?

Because overall… it sounds like Peter’s arguments for Martin to not share his information with Jon are crumbling a bit? We got confirmation that Martin tied himself to Peter after The Flesh attack (so it really wasn’t about Jon!!!! It was about protecting the others because Jon… was in no state to!!!!!!!!!), but then:

Peter is good at ~explaining~ why he didn’t do anything with the threats that we witnessed (Breekon breaking in and delivering the coffin, Jon going inside of the coffin and getting stuck there) but… there is no description of the other threats/enemies that Peter supposedly handled. Do they even exist? And, well. Peter only mentions the “big picture” but:

(MAG126) PETER: [LAUGHS] Because, behind all his bluster, Elias’s just like all the rest. He’s so preoccupied playing the game he doesn’t pay attention to the big picture. He managed to convince himself that he could get his ritual off first, which would have made all of this a… bit moot, but that’s not really an option anymore.

(MAG134) PETER: You know what the stakes are now, and I just have to hope you’re with me on this, focusing on the big picture. MARTIN: … Yeah.

… why, then, is he trying to stop the Fifteenth on his own if it’s so dangerous? Of all entities, The Web and The End should be very keen to help (plus, all the ones who lost their chance at their ritual in the current cycle)? And Jon just proved that he is willing to risk his life himself, and Peter has demonstrated that he wouldn’t be lifting a finger to prevent him from doing it… on his own. And Peter, who had accepted Martin’s “advice” in MAG108:

(MAG108) PETER: So your advice would be “less murder”? MARTIN: I… I s–suppose…? PETER: No, no, it’t, it’s a good observation! I thank you for it. MARTIN: You’re… welcome…

… was confirmed (in MAG127) to have wooshed two researchers when Jon was in a coma, and casually mentioned murder intents towards Gertrude. It doesn’t really sound like he’s holding his end of the bargain, does it…?

- Another twist is that, actually, Martin is keeping track of what is happening in the Archives? Which is not what he told Jon in MAG129:

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course. [INHALE] Listen, Martin, you should know– MARTIN: Jon– ARCHIVIST: –Daisy might be alive, Basira is– MARTIN: Stop. Stop, please, I–I shouldn’t know any of this, I… [PACKING UP] I–I–I really need to go, I–I’m… ARCHIVIST: Right. … right.

Was it just because it mattered that Jon was telling him it? Or did Peter inform Martin of Breekon’s presence himself? Or did Martin’s deal with Peter change a bit because Martin coldly asked Peter why there was suddenly a big coffin in Jon’s office.

- … I find it especially interesting that in the summary of the Archives situation during season 4:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin, this is what we agreed. After The Flesh attacked, you came to me. MARTIN: [SIGH] PETER: And I’ve held up my end of the bargain, despite your continued hesitation. Your friends have been largely untroubled by the many – many – enemies that they have made. MARTIN: What about the delivery guy? Breekon. And the coffin? PETER: Was that its name? To be honest with you, I thought it was dead. MARTIN: You thought wrong. PETER: True enough. And as soon as I learned it was here, I moved to intervene, but, well. It turns out I wasn’t really needed. And as far as the coffin goes, there’s not much I can do about a bull-headed Archivist– MARTIN: [EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] PETER: –who seems hell-bent on self-destruction. My powers only extend so far. […] As I said, one of the last shreds of the Circus delivered a gateway into Too-Close-I-Cannot-Breathe. I went to help, but was too late. Then, your detective friend– MARTIN: No, she’s not a dete– PETER: –went on one of Elias’s wild-goose chases, then Jon wilfully hurled himself into the coffin. […] Regardless, he’s in there three days, and then what do you know! He manages to pull himself out of the coffin, like a grubby Jesus. And he even brings a Penitent Thief along, in the form of your pet murderer!

… Peter didn’t mention anything about Jon removing Melanie’s bullet (and getting stabbed in the shoulder), nor about Helen’s door and her corridors containing Jared. Both took place in the tunnels so, maybe, in the same way as Elias, Peter had trouble using his powers inside of them, and/or knows that he wouldn’t be quite as invisible down there?

I’m really really intrigued about the fact that Helen wasn’t mentioned: is it because Elias and Peter don’t factor her in, since the Distortion is mostly an ~irritant~ and not expected to be helpful? Or are they completely unaware of her presence? It’s unclear whether Martin was aware that Helen was the one who had saved them from Jared, but if he is… same as with Basira who hid it from Elias: he might be hiding it from Peter. Martin didn’t have a great time with The Distortion, but at the same time… Tim and Martin had seen “a woman” wandering in the corridors, when they were trapped inside of them at the end of season 2, and Martin had felt guilty over the fact that they hadn’t saved her:

(MAG080) TIM: […] … Any sign of the woman…? MARTIN: I don’t think so. [PAUSE] We should have helped her. TIM: No. MARTIN: But we could have tried! TIM: How? MARTIN: …

So: can’t be sure on that point yet, there are too many “if”s to be certain (maybe Martin totally missed the fact that Helen had saved them because he was running away and then went to Peter and began to cut ties with Basira&Melanie; maybe Martin knows she’s downstairs and discussed it with Peter but Peter is overlooking her) but… it’s possible that Martin is currently being way more cunning than he lets on. We know he can use his own weaknesses for deception – he demonstrated it in MAG116 – so… Maybe. Maybe he’s a bit less desperate than he pretends to be; maybe it has always been a matter of exerting some control over Peter, of investigating what Peter wanted from him (and now getting all the information he can manage about the Fears’ politics and the Fifteenth), biding his time to get rid of him…? (I don’t want to hope too much, but at the same time… Martin is firm as steel, right now. Even in the trailer, when he almost broke down, he got back on his feet and became firmer after the call. On the one hand, he had all the reasons in the world to be at his most vulnerable, with his mother dying, The Flesh attacking and him proving once again that he couldn’t help, and Jon not waking up, and I’d be perfectly content picturing that he was genuinely desperate and afraid and didn’t have hidden motives when he negotiated Peter’s ~protection~. On the other hand, it’s a constant thing in the series that people and listeners both underestimate Martin Blackwood.)

- I was suspecting that Peter could turn invisible/not be felt while in the same room as others (since he had implied he’d witnessed Elias’s arrest in MAG120), it’s more or less confirmed… though it could be something else entirely given Peter’s answer:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin… My patron, hopefully our patron someday, doesn’t give me any sort of special insights. I’m not quite the accomplished voyeur that Elias was. I have to keep tabs on things the old-fashioned way. MARTIN: What, turning invisible and eavesdropping? PETER: If you like. But… I’m only one person, and I can’t keep an eye on everything.

So that’s probably also why Martin was so stiff with Jon in MAG124 and MAG129: if he knew that Peter could be there and see everything, he had to try his best to be blameless, even before considering the whole “not telling Jon anything for Jon’s own good” shtick. I had noticed that it felt like Basira and Martin were acting as if they were constantly under surveillance (even worse than during Elias’s time!) so given that it seems to be the case… I wonder if Basira is suspecting that, indeed, Peter is sometimes there but you just can’t feel him. Hence her being so careful about what she says, and refusing to say anything meaningful overall.

(If Daisy’s Hunter instincts come back… maybe she will be able to feel him?)

- … And if Peter needs to be there to keep tabs on people… UHUH, is it meaningful that he repeated twice that he was just leaving?

(MAG134) PETER: Right! Then, if you’ll excuse me, I have a family thing to get to. MARTIN: Are we going to talk about Jon? PETER: … Do we need to? […] Okay! Now, I really am running late, so if you don’t mind? [CLICK.]

I don’t want to hope too much about it but: if Martin were to try to make a move to share information or use a back-up plan or something (leaving the tape of his recording somewhere for Jon to find it? Or Adelard’s letter? Or sending something to warn how Peter might be able to spy on the Archives team? Or going to see Jon directly?), this could be the perfect opportunity since… Peter won’t be there to see it. Not banking on it, but. Given that Peter wasn’t especially convincing as a protector and that Jon has demonstrated that he would find danger by himself if left on his own, and that Martin now knows that Adelard Dekker was indeed tracking a Fifteenth power… there have now been enough deal-breaking events and information to want to change strategy; it wouldn’t come out of the blue if it happened soon?

Title for MAG135 is out and HHHHHHHHHHHHH. It. sounds too easy to speculate “The Dark” here but at the same time… AT THE SAME TIME, IT SOUNDS LIKE THE PERFECT TITLE FOR MANUELA DOMINGUEZ’S STATEMENT??? THE LAST OF THE DAEDALUS SPACE STATION STORIES??? *o* (I… really don’t see how Jonny could find a more perfect title for this one, so? Plus, we haven’t had a Dark statement since season 4 began, so.) If it’s the case, then: the title already contains two meanings; if there is a third one, could be by taking it like… Heavy Unpleasant Discussion before or after the statement (Jon-Basira? … Basira-Elias…………..? We’re definitely due for a debriefing about what Elias sent her to, if his main goal was just for her to leave Jon alone, or if indeed he had her search for something tangible and where and what…)

(Other ~highlight~ of the week: we’re getting Martin’s eighth poem on Patreon on Friday, complete with Discord event dedicated to Martin’s poetry run by Anil, BLESS HIM………………) (/ Curse you all, I’m not in Belgium, I can’t follow the AMA through Aza’s account this time around so that means having to get a discord I guess ;;)

#peter: *ranting for the fifteenth time this month that gertrude could be a danger*#elias *signing the paper approving of gertrude's additional expenses for plastic explosives #with a check from the lukases*: ahah preposterous.#the magnus archives #mag134 #tma liveblog #tma spoilers/#tma season 4 #long post/

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darkprincessloki92 · 5 years

Text

Imprisoned

Plot; Reader ends up in the underworld, things unravel in the most unlikely way

Paring; Loki x Reader

Warning; darkish parts, fluff

Part 6/?

Everything looked the same. The floor felt the same under my boots. The smell was the same as well. I could however noticed the littlest changes, whether it be the color of her hair, or the rug at the end of her bed. Eventually I had enough of this demons games. So i decided to play my own game. Following as I always have, This time the demon stops at the middle of the staircase. Growling, “What the hell.” Scooting by, “Excuse me, I have things to do.” The demon growled once again, “How..” Spinning on my heels and pointing a finger at the demon. “You my sticky little demon have forgotten. I am a few centiers older than you. I have dealt with worse creatures of hell. If you do not recall, i rule your birth place. And i will find your name and cast you out.” Turning towards the lightly lit room, “I have more important matters to attend to.” Walking into the room I knelt behind her sleeping form. Reaching for her, pausing just above her hair. “If only I could find a way to help you.” With that she tossed and turned for a moment. A device rang, she sat up quickly reaching for it. The screen lit up her features. She smiled at the screen, “Finally”

Standing up i headed down the stairway and walked out the front door Closely behind (y/n). The demon chased after me. “Where do you think you’re going!” Continuing my way down the street ignoring the demon keeping a close eye on her swaying hips. Grabbing my arm it attempts to stop me. I turned around and grabbed it by its throat. “Guess we will have to find out.” Slamming the demons body on the ground pressing my open palm on its forehead and it was knocked out. “This should hold you for a while.” Standing up quickly glancing around for (y/n) i can see she gets into a car. With some other male. Rage took over and i closed my eyes a cloud of gold and green enveloped me. Opening my eyes i stood on all fours. My claws digging into the concrete. With my nose to the air i grabbed her scent. “There you are, my little dove.” Breaking into a full speed my paws breaking the ground with every step. Her scent becoming stronger, “I am on my way little dove.” Slowing into a jog i peak around a corner. I can see her getting out of the car, the man she was with opens the door and they both enter.

Before I make my way a hand is placed atop my head. “My king, I do not find it wise if you attempt to go in unarmed.” “Mr. Scratch, but how.” Scratched nodded. “I came to retrieve you for your duties. Alas you are busy with one of your many excursions in her mind.” Becoming tense, “You will give me what information you know, then you will leave this place. We have much to discuss you and I.” Scratch simply nodded, “That man.” He gestured towards the building. “He is the one who put this demon inside her. And only he can tell you the name.” A low growl made its way up my throat. “Tell me who he is, and how to find him.” Scratch nodded again. “I will tell you, But. You must quit this nonsense and concentrate on your kingdom.” Slowly backing away, “Until we meet again.” Following close behind, I came to a sudden stop. Glancing down at my paws. Lifting one slightly off the ground. “How could someone so precious ever love a monster like myself.” Setting my paw down to the ground with a small whine and my ears dropped down. Scratch scoffed, “Enough with your childish attitude. Lets go.”

******

Your P.O.V

A small sigh leaves her lips. Loki takes notice. “My dove what is wrong?” Shifting in her seat. “I am bored...This throne room is nice and all.” Putting her arms behind her head huffing, “But it's the same plea, The same promise.” In a mocking tone, ‘I didn't do it, please don't hurt me. How in this place did you manage to put up with it.” Loki smirked, “You see my love, I used to enjoy this, seeing all the pain and suffering. I even joined in on the executions.” A pit in her stomach began to form. “You did?” His features soften. “I was not always this kind. To anyone as a matter of fact.” Switching to one hip closer to her. “You have changed me in more ways than you could ever imagine.” Leaning forward she kissed his nose. “ Loki there is something I want to tell you i---” “Sire, the colosseum is ready.” If looks could kill Scratch would be dead. But with that Loki had a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Dove, are you truly that bored?” She knew what he meant. “Lets go!” She jumps from her seat and skipped out of the room. Scratch nodded in that direction. Loki swiftly got up and headed in the same direction.

(y/n) reached the colosseum first. Looking down off the royal box she could see everything. All of the demons and the humans. Each sitting opposite of each other. “What?” Loki snaked his arms around her waist. Nuzzling behind her ear. “You see dove, This is a champion ballad. The winner gets to be free.” Her heart sped up. “Free from what?” He started kissing below her ear. “Free….From...Here.” She wiggled out of his grasp. “You didn't tell me this!” Loki looked puzzled, “Why on earth would I tell you this? Do you have any idea what goes on here?” She shook her head. His eyes narrowed. “Have I not done enough for you.” With each sentence he took a step closer. “ I have fed you. Given you the clothes you wear. And I even gave you my bed to which you sleep comfortably every night.” She gulped getting closer to the end of the balcony. He lifted her by her neck and threw her into the colosseum. The crowd went wild. His booming voice quieted them all. “Fine, You want out. Fight for it.”

She stood up and gave him pleading eyes, “Loki wait.” A wooden door was busted open and a large beast broke free. It charged her, but she was lucky enough to dodge it. Soon the demon whispered in her head. “Hello child, Remember the beast is big and slow. There are weapons behind you. Choose wisely. Win this battle and we can be free. That king up there.” Glancing up at Loki with a grin on his face. “He is trying to seperate us. He wants you to be stuck here with him. He doesn't plan to get you out.” Running to the weapons wall, she grabs to daggers. Running towards the beast she took out its ankles. “He promised.” The demons laughed echoed in her head. “Did you know he dream walks while you sleep?” In a fit of rage (y/n) climbed the beasts back and stabbed the blade into its skull. The beast fell with a thud. And (y/n) jumped off and landed on her feet. Looking up at Loki, with surprise written on his face. “I (y/n) have won this battle. And by that i will be freed.” Loki nodded and turned away. Something hit the back of her head and everything went black.

****

Loki P.O.V

Running down the winding stair case I finally reached the doorway to our shared room. Pushing open the doors I look to find out unconscious on the bed. Sitting down next to her i feel for any injuries on her head. Healing whatever i find. Slightly shaking her to wake her. “My dove, wake up please. Do not make me wait. You know how much I hate waiting.” Her eyes fluttered open. They were not hers. The demons red eyes took her place. Grabbing it by its throat.“You will take me to her. No games. Or I will kill you. Roux.” It’s eyes grew wide. “You know my name.” Narrowing my eyes. “While you were passed out. I made a few adjustments to her mind. You see, not only am I the king of hell. But I am the god of tricks and lies.” With a strenuous laugh. “This is no dream. You, Hurt me. You hurt her.” My grip tightens. “Now.” Its grip on my hand lets off. “Fine, I have a few requests.” “DEMON.” “Just two.” Setting her form on her feet. I simply responded “Two.” The demon smiled, “I am to be kept here. Not killed.” I scoof, “What else.” The demon smiled. “I want to visit her, you know she is my favorite.” I simply smiled. “Is that all.” The demon nodded. “Fine.”

@devilbat @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @lokis-little-kitten

#tom hiddleston #loki #fanfic #romance

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 5 years

Text

Me: I just don't understand how you're gramma ---

Gramma: oh don't worry about me kid, the second I die he loses everything, he's not in the will

Me: gramma is a genius!

Me, gramma & Matt: so he will have to kill prostitutes!

Gramma: he won't be able to afford them!

Developments upon the Murder Mystery have occurred. I'll apologize to Jesse whom said "in my heart I knew she was right and was gonna get it, but in my mind I wanted to stab her"

I was able to connect murders as in who done it, except I didn't know who done them and I only knew that Jesse was always there when one happened.

And Jesse just took the blame. I suppose it was alot like survivors guilt and his way to protect me from a seriously horrible person. I know in 2011 I quit talking to my mom, separated from my ex for 2 years, kicked my cousin out of my house, etc, so my kid was all "you're the problem, mom" like in my face yelling. I just told her "ok and I'm sorry, do you want to have me cook dinner?" What? I had to tell her how horrible people are so she just listens to what everyone says and is pushed around or let her see in time that I can be trusted and that I am right about people? She was literally in the safest place in the world, my ex wanted me back and my mom was afraid. Now guess what? I'm the best mom ever and my kid can't stand my mom or her dad and she never liked Tracy.

I don't think Jesse was v trying to protect me as much as he was trying to protect Matt. If Matt listens to the truth and reality, it will work out. But for now, at least we know where the players are on the checkerboard and it seems we are all safe.

Jesse did a good. I'm sure his wife will tie him up and spank him if he asks politely not that any of that is any one's business because it isn't.

I watched a thing on West Mesa Girls again last night. I was gonna change the channel and watch something different but it was a hard reach to attempt it. I was tired and my entire right side had been cramping when I moved after I got my dirty clothes off my floor, stuffed 4 pillows, & fed the cats. So nope. It has been cramping like a week when I wipe my ass or other random times. It happens but usually it's my left side. Maybe I should exercise, idk. But it hurts so I'm not gonna. #tiredofpain

Anyways I apologize to Jesse and say fuck off and burn in hell to grandpa. And pray for gramma whom is in a wheel chair. And pray to/for the cops to get shit done right.

I know there is way more than what the show last night had. I just wonder where they are.

So one amazing thing I saw last night is that they took satellite photos of the west Mesa in 2002 then they took older photos and then looked at the differences and could see tire tracks to the Graves and see the actual shape and location of the Graves. I hurts the heart but it's awesome that they were able to find the girls buried out there. Dude just drew them a map.

I kinda knew Jesse didn't kill the West Mesa Girls. But I knew I knew who did them. Crazy is that my daughter was born the same year the murders began or I was pregnant. I was tired last night and literally fell asleep during the episode.... only during the commercials...

But I know that Jesse and I were in the same room as a dead prostitute in NYC and that's why it linked to West Mesa. Because also he was there when Matt's parents died and my kids --- not necessarily there but in the aftermath and he has similar hair, skin, eye colors to the killer. Except there's like a foot difference in height.... actually I really don't know... the last two times I saw him we never stood up at the same time.i just feel he's shorter. But really I have nothing to compare to.

He said, you live in a small town that has generations of families, so girls will run into the family members that raped them at walmart, it's normal.

Except it's not. I'm a run away and I'm military. So no. If I lived in the same town as a rapist I would try to find a way we weren't both in the same town, and so now I will. Question is, who is gonna move first? Me or him?

I'm gonna Google states we can kill trespassers on. Where a person can just kill them for fun or just because they're trespassing. Because that's me. I'm not a coward that is Gonna hide a dead body. Maybe I'm lazy cause I don't wanna dig a hole....

..... what if you picked up a hooked and told her you wanted to shore her how beautiful Albuquerque Is at night so you go to the West Mesa and have her dig her own hole? In my mind that doesn't work cause some bitch ass mother fucker told me to dig a hole I would be all nah, fuck you. You do it. But I suppose if I was told th a t a private detective had found out where and who my family was and told me they would only be safe if I dug then maybe but in reality if I kill him then I got myself a new automobile and a great site to see the city in.

The girls had been talking about how girls got their heads chopped off or sliced up and buried in the West Mesa before anything had ever really been found out. So obviously he had been bragging to the other girls and also threatening them to get information on the other girls.

I don't think he would use weapons. He's more of a "I can do it myself and better than the best" type. I'm that way also but he's a bare hand strangle or kicking a pregnant lady type. Having a weapon unless you can make the weapon become an extension of you, becomes something in the way of your power.

I will use a vibrator so obviously i can weild the power. He needs flesh. He can't power a weapon. Probably why one of his virus phone hacks attacks the battery. A tale tell extension of self. However his power/ego says it's about how he murders -- kills the power supply. Just death in general.

Boring shit.

One time I was talking to this guy about murder then Jesse walks over and said to me, "I know you and I have something in common that's very sad and difficult to deal with" dude I was just told I had amnesia and had killed someone when I was 16. Really so linked that link incorrectly. Since then Jesse has been swimming in a pool of death. That had also happened in Houston .... ever clean off a table by pushing everything to the floor? So say the whole puzzle was there and Someone dumped the puzzle back in the box. Some pieces stay together some fall apart and sometimes one ends up sideways all jacked up into the wrong piece. That's my memory.

But slowly the pieces grow legs and walk them selves to the correct positions in the quiet darkness of the box. And no one really knows, but i do.

So then think of the legs as roots, dendrites3 and the like.....

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brattywriters-anonymous · 6 years

Text

A Rose in Harlem

Chapter two.

Oc x Erik story

Based on Teyana Taylor’s VII & KTSE

Warnings: Cursing, physical contact, feels!

Winter, 2013.

Syd cursed out as she felt the stinging pain of her broken and bloodied nail. Erik tried to grab her right arm, not even phased by the dark red bruise forming on his left cheek. Syd pulled her arm back and yelled, “Get off of me!” Erik pressed backward, throwing his hands up. Myles saw the disaster on Syd’s right index finger. “Oh, baby, That nail gotta come off!” He grabbed a fresh bottle of Dasani, poured the water on top of her finger. Diluted blood streamed down the concrete. “It hurts so bad! MM MM.” Syd shook her head over and over.

Erik approached her again, with napkins and a first aid kit. Before she could protest his presence, he grabbed her right hand, placing her index finger into the napkin. “Hey, Syeda. I am so sorry.” At first glance, she paid attention to his chest and the necklaces that were on display. He had a linked chain with a silver ring attached to it, and another smaller chain with the letter “N” on it. Then a sudden stinging sensation hit her injured finger. He put peroxide on it, to sterilize it. “That’s what you wanted to apologize for?” She yelped out in pain. She looked back up at his lips as they formed a wide smile. “Well, for that too. And for being too forward. I’m from Oakland baby, we state what we want. Closed mouths don’t get fed.” He wrapped her finger in the Band Aid, and kissed the uncovered part as he winked at her. She couldn’t deny what her body was doing in reaction to the care that he took for her in those few moments. In the December brisky yet-sunny weather, Syeda was feeling rather--hot. She briefly exhaled as he surrendered her hand.

After a successful meeting went completely south at the end, Syd retreated to her favorite local Coffee Shop. Harlem Coffee Co. She gotten Chai tea and a croissant. She needed to calm her nerves so after her 30 second encounter with “Erik” or whoever he is, “N!” She scoffed aloud before opening her macbook. She began to shuffle through photos that she took on her own, with a few models that were current students at her Alma mater, Columbia University, out to Highbridge for the official first shoot for UPTXWN. She wanted to represent not only Harlem, but all of uptown. Where it’s been, where it is, and where it’s going.So she did the first shoot on the High Bridge. She grabbed her Canon Rebel T5i that she bought herself for her birthday, and took some sunrise shots at 6 am on an early July morning. She really took the photos, and uploaded them to her laptop. She was too preoccupied with her showrunning position for fall fashion week that she didn’t even take the time out to edit them. They sat in her Macbook for over 5 months and it was about time that she started editing. Simultaneously, she was texting Myles informing him that the next shoots would be in Sugar Hill and Marcus Garvey Park and to blast the text and email out of a 10:00 am call time for the Following Wednesday and Thursday.

MYles🧡💁🏾‍♂️✨

Are you okay? I know you broke that nail pretty bad.

Yeah. 😩It hurts, but I’m good.

Alright. I’m sending the texts out now, emails will be out by tonight, l8r.✌🏾

Syd took a sip of her tea she saw a name pop up on her laptop, coming from a contact, “Sin”

Sin

Syd, it’s Yasin. The plumber. I know you said you’ll let me know if you’re free for a late lunch. You free now?

Syd read over each word then she saw three dots pop up at the bottom of the screen.

Sin

…

Turn around👀

Syd’s face turned into one of confusion. She made a 180 to see Yasin sitting on a table in the corner of the shop. She smiled as he motioned her over to him. She retrieved her belongings and walked over to the booth. “I was just about to ask you to meet me at my favorite coffee shop, and here you are. Girl, you must be an angel or somethin’.” Yasin drew across the table to her direction, he motioned out to her right hand and saw the Band Aid. “What happened Syd? You okay?” She brushed it off. “Yeah it’s fine, this guy was being a complete asshole so I socked his ass.” Yasin’s eyes fanned completely opened when she told him what happened. “Oh, so you fight guys out here?” He sat back in his chair. She reached out for his hand and honestly stated, “Only if I have to.” and smiled. Yasin side eyed Syeda, trying to get a read on her. She came off so mysterious. As old vinyl records of 90s and early 2000s music sprawled out on the living room area floor of her apartment ran across his mind, he grabbed her hand and asked, “So what you about, Syd?”

Yasin and Syd spent the next 3 hours discussing education, Islam, politics, and polyamory. Sin let Syd know that just because his mother allowed it and his father participated, doesn’t means that it was what he wanted out of life. “I’m 27 years old, it’s time that I find the right woman to build a family with. To live the life that Allah gifted to us.” Syd was about to be 25 her next birthday in two months. She let Sin know that even though she understood the overall benefit of having a 3 or more person income household, she wanted something that was exclusively hers. “I share my creativity with the world. I share my image to the world. I don’t want to share my love to the world too. I want something sacred.” Yasin nodded as he paused and took a look at his watch. “Oh shit. Ma, you lucky I got finished with all of my clients before I got here, I would’ve been late to all of em by now. It’s 6 pm.” Syd scanned over to the top right corner of her Macbook 6:30 pm. She’d only gotten half of the pictures done, so it looked like she was going to be pulling another all nighter. “Oh, I’m Sorry.” She started packing up her things and getting up. “I have to finish this anyway. So I’m gonna go back home.” Yasin stood with her and assisted her out of the booth. They walked out to a beautiful orange sunset, almost complete. Syd’s hair blew along with the wind again. As she swept the hair out of her face, Yasin reached his arms out and pulled her in slowly. “I had fun today Syd. To think, we met earlier this morning to you cussing me out.” Syd playfully nudge his shoulder. “Yeah, you were late. Which in turn, made me late for my business meeting.” “Let me make it up to you.” She tried to back away but his grip trumped her attempts. “How?” She raised an eyebrow. “Let me take you out tomorrow night. My homie is having a block party up Washington Heights. You wanna slide through?” Sin looked her in her eyes, she couldn’t evade his staring. Syd responded by slightly pecking him on the lips. “Sure.”

Syeda wrestled with her keys, finding the door key to let her into the building of 63 Morningside Avenue. She finally unlocked the hallway door, she sat at the bottom of the stairs to take off her extended high heels. She overheard Ziggy talking to Erik, “Yo I don’t know what you were thinking earlier, man. Syd don’t play.” She smiled when Zig made the infamous statement. She scurried up the steps and tried to silently unlock her door. CLINK! Her keys fell to the ground and all chatting stopped across the hall. The door opened. “Syd.” Her name sounded like honey coming from Erik’s lips. She slightly closed her eyes to it. She turned to face Apartment 2B. “N.” “N?” Erik was puzzled. She pointed at her own neck. “Your necklace.” He looked down and jumped. “Oh. Yeah. My father’s side of the family is from Africa. My African name is N’Jadaka. Zig is my cousin on my mom’s side.” he pointed over to 2B.

Syd looked stunned, shocked. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just figured you were lying about--” “About what? My name?” he chuckled. “Nah lil mama. Besides, I don’t think I could lie to you even if I wanted to.” She exhaled. It was light but still heavy enough for Erik to hear. She took a step backward into her apartment but as soon as she hit the closed door, she yelped. “OUCH!” She held her right hand with her left, dropping her heels. Erik immediately stepped in and grabbed her shoes. “Here, let me help you out.” He turned the key and opened the door. Syd turned the light on in the foyer area. “Thank you, N’Jadaka.” She repeated his name in a smooth manner that was pleasing to his ears. “You’re welcome, mooie bloem.” Syd perked up when she heard the familiar dutch nickname that Mr. V gave her. “Yeah, when you bumped into me, I stood by the stairwell..in shock I guess.” He laughed and continued, “I heard him call you beautiful flower in his language. I’m intrigued. Why?” Syd closed the door behind her and locked it, figuring that he was staying for a while, because he walked further into the studio, by her couch.

She placed her keys on the hanger beside the door, shimmied her bubble coat off, placing it on a misplaced dining room chair. “My middle name. It’s Mariposa. The cuban national flower. My mom was Cuban and African American. Afro latina. She was born in Cuba. Her and her family moved to Philadelphia when she was 8. Her father converted to Islam, her and the rest of the family soon followed. She met my dad, He’s also Afro Latino. They had me, Syeda Mariposa Diaz.”

Erik marveled at her story, appreciated that she knew her ancestry. “You have a beautiful name. So your mom honored her Cuban background and gave you an Islamic name?” He finally took a seat, awaiting her response. She nodded and sat next to him, “Yup. That was the idea.” He reached for her right hand, “May I?” She hesitated, then gave in, “Don’t break any of my other nails! They charge for fixing broken nails!” Syd looked Erik in his eyes, smiling. He grasped her hand and kissed it with the same tenderness as he did earlier and finally spoke, “Never.” She blinked a couple times to get herself out of the trance she found herself in after his lips left her hand, she actually had to look away from him as he removed the Band Aid from her finger.

“I heard your right hand man, he said you have to remove the nail. You haven’t done that yet.” He held her finger closer to her overhead lamp so he could further investigate. “Hell no! It hurts. I was going to go to the nail shop to get it removed.” “For what? So they can charge you for something you could’ve done? Nah. I gotchu.” He quickly stepped out of her studio. She shot up and began to panic a bit.

Oh my gosh! Syd, what are you doing?! You just letting this man take care of you like some damsel… Even though he is the reason why you’re hurt.---He Looks so damn GOOD though. Damn. He can’t be in here for too long!

Syd attempted to press the power button on her phone but it didn’t turn on. Signaling that it died. “Shit.” She mumbled. She shuffled around the back end of the studio where her bed and nightstand were. She reached over the opposite side of her bed, closest to her window, for her charger. She heard a laugh and turned over in fear. “Damn. My apologies Syd. It’s just me. I needed my first aid kit. You got tweezers right?” She pulled herself off of her queen sized mattress and retrieved her manicure kit from her bathroom. “In here.”

“AHHHH!” Syd exclaimed as Erik used the tweezers to pull the remaining acrylic off of Syd’s bleeding finger. “There. The bleeding should definitely stop after this.” He sprayed the alcohol on a cotton swab and patted on her nail bed. She squealed in shock as he wrapped a new Band Aid on her patched up digit. She took her hand back, relieved that the pain is subsiding. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” “You’re welcome. No sweat. I was in the Navy. I helped out injured people all the time. I’m used to it.” Erik spat out as he returned the manicure kit back in the bathroom, washing his hands. Once he dried them he clapped them together, and cut the light off. “Okay beautiful. Don’t go slapping other niggas upside the head. I gotta bounce.” Syd followed his trail to her front door, “Bye Erik. Thank you again.”

🌹

#erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger imagine #erik kilmonger imagines #erik killmonger #black panther fanfiction #erik stevens #n'jadaka #black panther imagine #black panther imagines #fanfic #arih #black panther au

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kimmyiewrites · 6 years

Text

Moving On ~ Chpt 5

Things were going well, surprisingly well. Bex had yet to meet the sister but she had met quite a few new faces that added to their tree. She had made herself an asset and the Capello’s couldn’t risk letting her loose. With the help of Nolan Cooper, Owen Collins and William Phillips; pack mules working for the Capello’s turned criminal informants for Bex and Declan, Bex was able to bring in two more agents with her for the pack mule job. Agents Miles Stewart and Gabriel Parker helped Bex fill in the rest of the photos for the Capello soldier role.

There was Piero Damiani, Samuele Capello and Jasper King. With each of these men revealed more pieces to the puzzle were uncovered. They uncovered that a few of the Damiani’s were involved. The Damiani’s were Luka’s mother’s family. Piero was the younger brother to Michele, who was placed as a Capo for the Capello family. Samuele was a nephew to Giovanni and the younger brother to Nicolas, who is another capo and the eldest son to Alessandro, the younger brother to Giovanni and the consigliere to the family. A capo is like a captain leading soldiers. A consigliere is the counselor or advisor to the boss.

Not everything can be smooth sailing however. Bex was touching up her make up when Lua stormed into the bathroom. She was staying at his apartment for the weekend since the Capello’s were throwing a benefit dinner for Senator Julian Roberts. The sound of the door slamming against the wall startled her, causing her to poke herself in the eye with her mascara wand.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?!” Luka yelled as Bex blinked constantly until the burning sensation stopped.

“No, I think I’m the idiot for stabbing myself in the eye with my mascara!” She replied.

“Now is not the time for your wit, Rebecca.” He hissed as he pulled her to face him. “Declan told me he knew you when he worked for the feds. Are you using me? Did you think you would get away with it?”

Bex froze, her eye was still burning like mad but she needed to focus in order to get out of this. “Babe -”

“Don’t babe me. Tell me the truth, Rebecca.”

“Fine, Luka, you want to know the truth? You got played but not by me. Declan’s just jealous of us and wanted us to split. I am no way working with the feds. I avoid them. They take all you worked for away from you. Why would I want to work for them?”

“You swear on your life that you are not working for them?”

Bex nodded. “I swear on my life that I’m not working for the feds.”

Luka breathed a sigh of relief. He had been more heartbroken than anything when Declan had told him that. Bex had made working for the family fun and he didn’t mind it so much anymore. If their relationship had been a whole lie he would have gone mad. He wiped a mascara tainted tear away and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you and that I made you poke your eye with your mascara. How about I make it up to you by treating you to a good time tonight?”

Bex smiled, glad that this seemed to have blown over. She vowed to herself though that she would have a few choice words with Declan tonight. “Sounds like a plan to me. Just need to get my shoes on and I’m ready to go.”

They arrived shortly to the Library of Congress. The main lobby before reaching the many rows of books was being used as the ballroom of sorts where all of the guests could mix and mingle. Bex always loved coming to the library. She could get lost in it for hours taking in the architecture or reading one of the many books they had and have done so on multiple occasions.

When the two arrived, Declan met Bex’s gaze with a shocked one. He had hoped that his plan would have worked. He knew that Bex was close, knew how good Bex was and he couldn’t have her ruin what he had going for him. He knew that as soon as the Capello’s came down, he would be out of a job and out of a life of freedom.

Luka kissed Bex’s cheek, smiling apologetically as he is beckoned away to do some work related things. Bex replies with a reassuring smile before giving him a sweet kiss. As Luka left, a waiter with a tray of champagne walked by and Bex plucked a flute off before making her way to where Declan was standing. She stood next to him, looking out at the party goers and sipping on her drink. “Well, you certainly get an A plus for effort.” Bex finally said.

Declan chuckled uncomfortably, maybe he could talk her out of this, maybe he could even talk her into joining the Capello’s like he did. “You’re getting awfully close, Bex but it seems like you’re really enjoying Luka’s company. Are you sure you really want to take down the Capello’s?”

Bex snorted. “Yeah, I should get an Oscar after this case. Luka’s alright, not my cup of tea though. So why exactly did you try to get me killed? Don’t you want this case to be over? You can finally go home and not have to watch your back.”

He popped one of the horderves in his mouth, thoroughly chewing it before answering. “You don’t get it Bex. I don’t want this to end. I won’t be able to have my life back if it does.”

Then it clicked and Bex nearly dropped her drink. She turned to finally face Declan with wide eyes and she swore her jaw was on the floor. The look on his face confirmed what she had pieced together. He was no longer working for the FBI, he was working for the Capello’s. She slowly began to back away. “I’m not going to stop, not until you and this whole operation is stopped.”

Bex had to leave. She couldn’t breathe. It felt like she had been hit in the stomach. All that she believed about her fellow agents had been ripped out from under her. She needed to leave. She needed to figure this out, wrap her head around it. She needed Mike.

“Whoa, you don’t look so good.” A voice said before an arm was wrapped around her shoulders.

Bex looked over and there was the person she was hoping to meet tonight. “Yeah, it must have been something I ate. You’re Izzy, right? Your brother talks a lot about you.” She smiled.

The other woman returned the smile. “Yeah, that would be me. Luka speaks a lot about you as well, Bex. How about we sneak away and take a seat until whatever has you down passes?”

Bex nodded. “That sounds lovely.”

The two walk further into the library and stop to sit when the music can no longer be heard. “I’ll have to make sure to tell Luka to yell at the cook for making you not feel well.”

Bex laughed. “He would do it too but that’s not necessary. Thank you though.”

“You know, I didn’t really want to even come to this thing? Everyone in that room either knows what my family does or is completely clueless that the senator is on our payroll.”

“Senator Roberts is on your payroll?” Bex asked, oh this night was just getting better.

“Yeah, you didn’t know? He’s the one leading the whole keep our second amendment rights battle so it’ll be easier for dad to transport his weapons and ammo.” Izzy rolled her eyes, clearly not agreeing with her father’s practices.

“Huh, I honestly had no clue. I’m just the money girl.” Bex laughed.

“Oh, trust me, to Luka you are much more than the money girl.”

The two shared a smile before Izzy stood. “I guess I better get back out there before father sends the search party. Take all the time you need. I’ll let Luka know you aren’t feeling well.”

“Thanks, Izzy but I think I’m just gonna sneak out the side and head home. I’m not going to be much company right now anyways.”

Izzy nodded. “I wish I could do the same thing. You feel better then. It was good to finally meet you Bex.”

“You as well, Izzy and thanks.” The two women gave each other a hug before going their separate ways.

Bex pulled out her phone and gave Mike a call as she made her way out of the library. When he didn’t answer the first time, she began to worry and called him once again, thankfully he answered the second time.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t answer at first. Was finishing up some stuff at the bank and didn’t want to lose count.” He apologized.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Are you still there?” Bex asked as she stood on the street trying to flag down a taxi.

“Yeah, what’s wrong? Aren’t you supposed to be at the gala thing tonight?”

“Yeah but I’ve got some info that just can’t wait. Meet you at the bank or should I go somewhere else?”

“No, the bank’s good. I’ll see you in a few then?”

Bex finally got one to stop as she answered. “Yeah, just got a cab. See you soon.” As she got into the back of the car, they hung up. Bex told the address to the driver and the rest of the ride was quiet as she contemplated what she had to do next. This case just got so much bigger than what she was anticipating.

Mike met her outside, offering her his coat when he noticed her shiver a bit at the cool breeze. She took it gratefully and followed him inside. “You look beautiful, by the way. I’m sure he forgot to tell you that.”

“Mike Warren, are you jealous?” She teased.

“What? No.” He emphasized with a shake of his head causing Bex to giggle.

She wrapped her arms around his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Mike.”

He smiled and patted her hands with his. “Now what is this urgent information or did you just say that cause you missed me?” He teased her once they settled into his makeshift office.

Bex giggled. “You got me. It’s really only because I missed you.”

“Really?” Mike asked, shocked that his teasing was actually right.

Bex smiled. “No, that’s not it really but I have missed you. We’ll have to have a jelly crescent eating party when this is all over.” She laughed causing Mike to join in with her.

“Well, that certainly sounds like a plan to me. So what did you find out tonight?”

Bex took a deep breath to prepare herself for what she was about to say next. “Declan has been burned. He is now on the payroll and who knows how long that’s been going on. Oh, and Senator Roberts is also linked with the Capello’s. He’s leading their little make sure gun laws are still wide open as possible so it doesn’t hurt their business.”

Mike couldn’t respond right away. He was processing through what Bex had just told him. He was afraid something like this could be happening. This was why he was nervous to take this case so close after all that happened at Graceland. He too took a deep breath before speaking, after all he had Bex and this wasn’t Graceland and everything was going to work out, right? “Well, then it looks like we need to factor these two in our takedown plan.”

Bex nodded. “Looks like it, indeed.”

#kim writes things #moving on #graceland #graceland usa #graceland fic #mike x bex #here's the queue we started out as friends #5 #moving on series

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selenium-drive · 3 years

Text

Stay Gold Chapter 6: The Rescue

TW: Depictions of violence/blood, kidnapping, physical abuse

Words: 7k

Series rating: Explicit

"Why are you suggesting we go back to Tattooine?" Mando sighed exasperatedly.

"Because," Tajana began, "I can look around town for parts necessary to get the Crest running better. I have close ties with a lot of parts dealers there."

She sorted through bundles of frayed wires that were on the verge of touching the oppositely charged pieces dangerously next to it. Her skilled fingers pried apart the multicolored strands, twisting the correct pieces together and spacing the copper wires a safer distance from one another. Maker, this was a catastrophe waiting to happen. Besides the obvious safety risks, her own pride, and she supposed Mando's as well, was at stake. She was still irritated about how Zero harshly critiqued the ship before the start of their last mission, with his not so sugar coated observations at how flawed the Crest was. Their failed attempt at replenishing their dwindling supplies was also a contending factor in the need to stop somewhere. "We also need to stock up on bacta and food, for real this time. That little incident in Corellia put a damper on things," she added.

Mando sighed once more. "I'm not made of credits, you know," he grumbled. "I'll have to find more work while we're there. I still need to pay you for all you've done around here these past few weeks."

Tajana stood up and wiped the sweat from her brow. "We'll worry about that later. Right now we need enough to be able to get what we need to take care of the kid and each other."

"That may be so, but these lower paying jobs we're lucky enough to find, aren't covering much of anything," Mando admitted bitterly.

Tajana fiddled with the tips of her gloves, then slowly began to pull them off while staring at the Mandalorian's boots. "If you don't mind me asking," she started nervously, "what happened with the Guild?"

Mando swallowed hard. She hadn't asked any questions before about much of anything involving him and the kid. He supposed it was only fair that he give her an answer, especially seeing how she brought herself to reveal information about her upbringing he was sure not many people had heard before.

"It's...complicated. I took on a mission to find the kid and when it came time to turn him in, I couldn't," Mando explained. "Well, I mean I did, but then I ended up going back for him. The man who hired me was ex-Imperial. He has a small group of troopers with him on Nevarro. I don't know what he wanted with the kid, but I couldn't let it happen."

Tajana fidgeted with her gloves. "You...you worked for the Empire?"

Mando's heart skipped a beat. Stars, she had every reason to hate them. Now to find out he actually took a job for them...

"No!" The bounty hunter shouted defensively, and a little too forcefully at that. "Well, yes...but the Empire isn't around anymore. To me, the job was a job. I don't side with them, not at all."

He stood awkwardly and stiffly in place while Tajana looked up at him, her golden eyes staring deep into his visor warily. What he wouldn't give to see the lower half of her expression right now. Was she frowning? Was she angry or upset? Her eyes always showcased so much raw emotion to make up for what part of her remained covered and unseen. This time, all he could make out was a flicker of distrust brewing deep in her honey tinted stare.

"I'm not proud of accepting a job from an Imp," he said while breaking eye contact with the girl. "But it got me the kid, therefore I have no regrets."

Tajana continued to glare hard at his beskar helmet, her eyes softening some when she realized just how much the battle hardened hunter in front of her cared for his son. "I supposed neither he nor I would be standing here had you not done what you did."

Mando's head shot up to look in her direction. Again, he found himself desperately wanting to see her face, to know what she was thinking and be able to read her puzzling, obscured expression. His mind flashed to the bits of tanned skin he mistakingly caught a glimpse of while she slept on his cot several days prior. It felt like a sin to see such simple parts of her face. He had only looked for a second. Stars, he couldn't remember what exactly he had seen even if he wanted to. Mando wasn't used to being the one who wasn't allowed to see another beings face; is this what it felt like for everyone else around him?

"I'm setting a course for Tattooine," she spoke up suddenly, breaking his concentration rooted deep in his thoughts. Her voice was hardened and serious. Whatever moment they had building up was over. When Mando didn't argue, Tajana started to make her way into the cockpit where she took her spot in his seat.

_________

The Crest touched down in an empty hangar located in Mos Espa. Once Tajana fed The Child what last remaining bits of food they had left besides protein bars at this point, Mando collected the foundling and placed him in the cloth crossbody bag to be carried around with them on Tattooine. They emerged from the ship, the dry desert air hitting the exposed portions of Tajana's skin, leaving a soft burning sensation in its wake. The suns beat down overhead, reflecting off the metallic shine of both the Crest and the Mandalorian.

"This is where you grew up, isn't it?" Mando asked the shorter woman walking alongside him.

"Yes," she answered simply. "I haven't been back here since mom passed."

"Why'd you want to come back here of all places?" He asked.

Tajana shrugged. "It's...been on my mind a lot lately..."

The Mandalorian, pilot, and child traveled down the relatively busy streets of the marketplace. Loud chattering erupted from the multicultural and diverse crowds consisting of different species, all looking to find the best deals for whatever it is they were shopping for. Tajana started to take a few bigger steps ahead of the Mandalorian when a stand advertising medical supplies came into view. A sharp tug on her wrist made her fall back into place by her employer's side.

"Stay close to me," Mando warned.

"Why?" Tajana asked, a bit of worry laced in her voice. Her eyes scoured everyone congregated around them, looking for anything that seemed out of place.

"I don't want a repeat of Corellia," he explained.

Tajana scoffed and her body language relaxed. "You worry too much. We'll be fine."

They approached a beat up, wooden stand run by a Kubaz. Mando immediately placed a few credits on the countertop.

"Bacta, in any form you have it, please," the hunter requested the shopkeeper. Tajana raised an eyebrow in confusion following a few high pitched squeals and vague hand gestures that were directed to Mando, who sighed audibly and place another handful of credits in front of the Kubaz.

"Don't waste what we barely have," Tajana remarked.

"We need all this, don't we?" Mando answered sharply. He collected the few patches and cans that the Kubaz happily handed over to the pair in exchange for the rather generous looking sum of currency. "Besides," Mando continued, "one of these is coming out of your paycheck." Tajana shot him a surprised look. "You always said I had to waste one on you because of Calican," Mando deadpanned.

"And I had to waste the last of it on you from your run in with Xi'an," Tajana grumbled.

Mando scoffed and shoved the bacta in one of his side pockets. "I guess we're even then."

_________

Mando stood off to his pilot's side ever so slightly, alternating between cautiously watching passer-byers and keeping an eye on his crew member, all while she sorted through a small basket of horned melon. The ripe, sweet, fruit was a bit of an expensive delicacy, but Tajana wanted to purchase just one to bring back to The Child.

"Do you like these?" Tajana called out to Mando. He turned his attention her way, glancing glancing at the plump, spiked yellow-orange fruit she held out in her hand.

"I don't know," he replied.

"You've never had one before?"

Mando looked at her again for a second without verbally replying, then glanced over once more at the people walking by. Tajana toyed with the melon before placing it in her basket of other groceries. "What foods do you like?"

Mando sent another perplexed look her way. Although his helmet completely hid his expression, Tajana could still feel the confusion radiating from out underneath his beskar. She felt rather silly, asking a deadly bounty hunter what he enjoyed eating.

"I don't know. I never cared about what I ate before."

She picked up on his use of past tense. "Before?"

Mando shrugged and looked off back towards the crowd. "I never had time to enjoy meals. But, I guess I like...soup."

Tajana's hand fumbled slightly when she handed the store owner the payment for their food. A warm sensation swept across her cheeks underneath her scarf, and it wasn't because of the intensity of the suns or the environmental heat.

_________

"Looks like we'll have to hold off on buying new parts for the Crest," Tajana groaned loudly. Their lack of funds was quickly growing troublesome and it seemed there was no end to their financial struggles. With a hefty sum of their combined credits going towards refueling the Crest, paying for the hangar, and also for supplies, Mando kept an eye out for the closest cantina to ask around for work. They approached a rather large establishment and accompanied a circular booth in the farthest corner from the entrance. Many onlookers stole a few prolonged states at the Mandalorian and his accomplice who also hid her identity. Tajana shifted uncomfortably her seat at the unwanted attention.

"What can I get you?" An older woman asked when she approached the tense guests at the table.

"Nothing for me," Mando answered. "Bone broth for the kid, please."

"And a water for me, please," Tajana interjected.

Mando's helmet shifted from the server who was walking away, to his partner seated across from him. He had never seen her eat or drink before in public.

Tajana huffed and rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Mando. I'm not a droid, I have needs too you know."

The Mandalorian had grown accustomed to withholding himself from food and water when he was in public, even if his body demanded it. He had gotten rather used to the constant gnawing hunger and cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he learned to ignore the dry, patchy feeling in his throat that came forth every so often. The woman seated next to him was slowly chipping away at his resolve; he found his body would crave the meals she made or the drinks she brought him periodically. Mando's stomach seemed to growl even louder now most days. The occasional scratch in his throat would escalate to a parched, sandpaper sensation that was hard to ignore. He knew she had to have felt the same way at times. She hid herself the same way he did when it was finally time for her to give into her need to eat or drink. Granted, she still seemed to be able to reveal herself when she chose, such as in front of The Child, something Mando would never do. Her own code was not as strict as his, yet it was still perplexing that she was willing to bend her own set of rules now.

The waitress set the cup of steaming broth down in front of the ecstatic child who began to pout when Mando safely pushed it out of the infant's reach while it cooled down.

"Don't touch it yet," Mando warned sternly, gently pushing The Child's little green claws back down underneath the table. Tajana smiled and grabbed her glass the waitress had set down in on the table. She turned her head far off to the side, facing the empty corner of the cantina. Parting the thick layers of her scarf slightly, she brought the cup to her lips to discretely take a sip. Mando couldn't help but watch her closely. He felt odd seeing her drink in such a secretive manner, almost as if he was disappointed she actually didn't decide do so out in the open after all.

"Watch the kid for a minute," he said in an attempt to bring his mind back to why they were in the cantina to begin with. "I'll be right back."

The Mandalorian stood up and slipped out from behind the table. The room fell just a bit more silent when Mando weaved in and out of the tables to approach the droid manning the customers seated at the counter.

Tajana watched how the clusters of patrons that Mando passed by, tended to either cower in their seats some or cease their conversations when the hunter passed them by. Maybe it's because she has been traveling with him for a bit now, but she found it rather amusing how quick everyone was to assume that Mando was a ruthless warrior with a short fuse. She smiled softly to herself at the thought of how he tended to The Child and always made sure he was safe and properly cared for. A small giggle almost fell past her lips when she remembered how witty and sarcastic his dry sense of humor could be when it decided to show through his cold, metal exterior. Yet, Tajana couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness when she realized no one know what he was really like, including herself. She knew Mando for a few weeks now, yet he still felt like a stranger at times. Tajana could now start to admit she felt safe around him, but sometimes, he was terrifying. He was still a force not to be reckoned with, and be still held many secrets underneath the weight of all that armor. He was a grown man that no one knew much about. She wasn't even sure he knew much about himself. Stars, the man doesn't even appear to know his own likes or dislikes.

"There's a bounty I need to collect over in Bestine," Mando's deep voice broke through suddenly in front of Tajana. "Are you familiar with that city?" He asked the startled woman.

Tajana cleared her throat and tried to play off her being caught off guard. "Not really. I didn't live there nor have I been at all, actually. From what I've heard, it's a relatively safe area."

"I see," Mando noted. He passed The Child the cooled off bone broth, watching silently as the infant happily brought the bowl to his lips and drank the cloudy liquid.

Tahana watched The Child carefully as well. She was about to turn to drink once more from her own cup when a nearby conversation captured her full attention.

"...she's been missing a few days now. No telling what happened to her," a man's voice said defeatedly.

"Don't talk like that," his comrade interrupted angrily. "We'll find her. I know she's okay, I can feel it. Anchorhead isn't that far from here."

Tajana slowly set her cup back down on the stained wooden tabletop. Mando directed his attention from the kid to her, noticing the worry etched upon the top half of her facial features and swimming all throughout her golden orbs.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop," he commented.

She shushed him and waved her hand dismissively. When she turned around to address the men behind her, they had already vanished.

"Did you see where they went?" She eagerly asked the Mandalorian.

"No. We already have a job to do and then we need to get out of here quick," he said resolutely.

Tajana ignored him and kept looking around at the other patrons of the cantina, frantically looking for anyone the voices could’ve belonged too.

Mando sighed and reached out to calm her down. "Hey," his soft but firm baritone filtered through the modulator, "we'll do some digging around Anchorhead once we're finished collecting the bounty, okay? But we can't stay long."

Tajana relaxed some and turned her attention to the hunter. She could feel his gaze that was penetrating through the jet black visor and focused on her. All she did was nod in response.

He wanted to ask her why she cared so much about one random missing person, why she seemed so disgruntled from the men's discussion that didn't involve her. His gut instinct told him there was no point in asking, that she would shut down and give him no answer. With the way she was acting, how distraught she seemed, it was something deeper than she was unwilling to talk about unless it was on her own terms.

The Child lifted some of the intensity of the heaviness that formed at the table when he cooed loudly to voice his content from the broth meal. The full little foundling reached up to set the empty bowl down on the table. Tajana smiled sadly and began to wipe his face while Mando pulled a few more credits from his coin bag and set them on the table.

_________

When they made it to the Crest, Mando immediately set a navigation course for Bestine and began to pack for his new search for the quarry.

"I think it's best you stay here," Mando instructed the younger woman. "This won't take long. Look after the kid for a few hours and try to get some sleep. When I get back, we'll both head into Anchorhead to see if we can find any information about a missing person."

He grabbed his Ambian rifle and secured it across his back. Tajana sat on the cot, staring absent mindedly ahead at the wall while repetitively rocking the kid back and forth in an attempt to lull him to sleep. His giant eyes were too busy watching Mando prepare to set out for another job.

"Tajana," Mando broke the girl's fixation on nothing, "I'll be back soon. I'll do my best to hurry."

She nodded wordlessly and watched the Mandalorian gently pat his son's head goodbye before lowering the ramp to the gunship and hurrying off towards Bestine.

_________

"Stop! You can't do this to me! Please, no!"

Tajana's muscles twitched in her sleep at the recollection of her being dragged into the middle of a campsite in the middle of nowhere. She was thrown face first into the powdery sand dunes while a few men watched and laughed as she struggled to stand her ground.

"I'm sorry! It won't happen again!"

One of the men brandished a large vibroblade. Stepping closer to the panicked young girl, his amusement turned to anger when she tried desperately to fight back.

"Please, stop it!"

The sudden memory of sharp pain erupting across the bridge of Tajana's nose, violently ripped her from her deep sleep. She shot up from the cot, her body twisted and entangled in the thin blanket she covered herself with. Her breathing was erratic and her tanned skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat. A few soft whimpers escaped her lips as she disorientedly felt around the closed in walls of Mando's sleeping quarters, desperately looking for the switch to slide the door open. Her trembling fingers found the switch they needed and the door shot back, the faint orange glow of the lower level of the Crest flooding her vision. The Child that was sleeping peacefully besides her prior to her night terror, was now curiously looking at his caretaker, his wrinkly green brow creased even more with lines of worry and confusion. The infant babbled mindlessly and held one small clawed hand out towards Tajana. She tried her best to steady her shaky hands and erratic breathing when she reached for The Child.

"Sorry little one," she exhaled slowly, trying to put a brave face on for the panicked infant. "It was just a bad dream."

The Child didn't seem to buy her lie that she was fine. He continue to watch her carefully, making sad cooing noises every now and then, his big black eyes staring deep into hers as if he were trying to understand what she was really thinking. Tajana's guilt began to fester the more she laid in bed under the surveillance of The Child. She picked him up and held him close to her face to maintain strong eye contact with him so he could fully understand what she was about to say.

"I have to go," she spoke slowly and sternly. "I know Mando said to wait, but I can't. I have to find the girl that went missing, and you need to stay here and be good until I get back, okay? I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I have to leave you, but please, please just stay here. I'll be back. I promise."

The Child sucked in his little lips in a deep frown. Tajana pulled down her scarf, revealing herself to the foundling. He looked over her entire face sadly and reached out to cup her cheek gently with one of his delicate hands.

"I have to do this," she whispered. "I can't let anything happen to her, not when I know what's out there."

The infant made a few melancholy sounding babbles but then remained silent as he watched her dress herself quickly and equip her weaponry. Tajana hugged The Child tightly and apologized one last time before she laid him down on the Mandlaorian's cot, tucked him tightly, and slid the door closed behind her.

_________

"I have credits! Lots and lots of credits. H-hey you know, I can get you a great deal on a better ship. I mean, not that your ship isn't...nice b-but who doesn't want the latest model am I right? W-wait, just hear me out. No, I can help you j-just wait! WAI-"

Mando slammed the quarry face first into the cryogenic chamber. Stars, the complete silence that followed was a blessing from the Maker themselves. In this instance, Mando was strongly considering the option of bringing the bounty in cold, even if it meant docking some of his payment. Mando sat down across from the chamber, breathing in and releasing a heavy sigh. His legs were sore from the constant keeping up he had to with the evasive target. There was no element of surprise with this one; the quarry knew Mando was on the hunt for him. It was like trying to catch an annoying, slippery bar of soap in leather gloved hands. He put up a tiny bit of a fight, slicing the Mandalorian in between some of the vulnerable, exposed area between the beskar armor. It wasn't a deep laceration. The bleeding had mostly stopped on its own, but the more strenuous movements Mando made, the more he could feel the wound on his back stretch out and reopen. The constant stinging sensation further irritated the bounty hunter, making him wish he really did put a blaster hole in the quarry's head on their way back to the Crest. He chuckled in amusement to himself when he thought back to to small argument he and Tajana shared in Mos Eisley regarding their dwindling supply of Bacta. She wouldn't let him live it down that he went and got himself injured again during such a simple hunt.

At first, the sound of nothing was well received by the worn out hunter. The much desired silence soon became a little too much for comfort. Mando cocked his head to the side in an attempt to hear any creaks or clattering around that would tell him just where his absent pilot was. There was nothing; no footsteps, no humming The Child to sleep, no nonsense speech coming from the kid...just unnerving silence.

A wave of panic crashed over the Mandalorian. He brought himself up to his aching legs, the wound in his side protesting from the sudden, erratic movement of his muscles that were already screaming from fatigue. As much as he wanted to call out for the kid or Tajana, he kept his mouth shut and his blaster drawn. With all the commotion that he and the quarry made, they must of known he was back. Mando crept along the upper floor of the Crest, treading lightly and doing his best not to alert any possible threats to his presence with the sound of creaky, metal footsteps. There was no one in the cockpit, no one in the lower level of the gunship. Mando ripped back the door to the refresher to see it was empty as well. He couldn't help the increasingly intense thudding of his heart beating up against his chest plate as he all but tore the ship apart trying to find any sign of his missing crew member.

A faint knocking sound coming from inside of the sleeping compartment nearly stopped his erratic heart rhythm. Mando looked back to see if the knocking would repeat itself, or if it was all inside his anxious, over-stimulated mind. When the noise repeated itself, he jerked back the covering to reveal a distraught, whimpering child.

"Hey kid, hey it's fine," Mando whispered reassuringly to the troubled infant. He did his best to comfort his foundling, his soft words of consolation not doing much for either one of them. "Kid, where is she? Where did she go?" Mando asked a little firmer. The Child sniffled and tore away its large, watery eyes from Mando's helmet to the ramp. Raising one little three fingered hand, he gestured sadly towards the ship's exit. "Okay. Okay, good. We're going to get her back okay? We'll go together and we'll find her."

The rush of adrenaline was beginning to silence his body's aching protest to settle down for the night. With a shaking hand, Mando activated the ramp's lowering mechanism and stepped out of the ship, desperately following the path of footsteps that trailed off from the base of the Crest.

_________

Tajana spent hours asking around what felt like all of Anchorhead, desperately trying to find anyone who had any information on a possibly missing girl. Many civilians admitted they haven't heard anything of anyone being kidnapped, nor had they seen any suspicious activity as of lately. She was beginning to feel foolish for leaving The Child behind on the ship. Mando was going to be infuriated with her if he made it back before she did. If she came back empty-handed, it would make him even more upset that she risked The Child's safety for nothing. Maker, she was so selfish. What a stupid thing to do.

The streets were beginning to empty once the suns had complete gone down. The red, orange, and yellow hues from the beautiful Tattooine sunsets had dissolved into the black starry skyline, taking with it all sense of warmth and replacing it with a cool night time breeze. Tajana trudged along the dusty street pathways, bracing herself along the way for one hell of a chewing out from an angry Mandalorian father when she got back to the ship.

"Hey, you there," a soft female voice broke through the silence.

Tajana followed the direction of the voice to a small nearby storefront. Peeking behind a few storage crates, was a trembling and terrified young girl.

"P-please help me," she sobbed. "I just want to go home. They took me from my home."

Tajana's heart dropped when her golden eyes met the girl's glassy brown ones. Her face was covered in dirt and bruises, a bit of dried blood was caked on small cuts littering her feet and legs.

"Shit," Tajana gasped under her breath. She reached out to take the girl's hand and pulled her close. "You're going to be fine. I've got you, I promise. What's your name?"

"L-Lorelie," the girl stammered.

"Lorelie...that's a pretty name. Where are you from?" the raven haired woman asked softly.

"Mos E-Eisley," Lorelie stuttered.

Tajana nodded and smiled. "Okay, that's not too far from here. Now let's go. I'll get you home soon."

She glanced around once more to make sure they weren't being followed before maintaining a stead pace back towards the ship. After a few minutes of walking, Lorelie pulled back on Tajana's hand.

"W-wait. Wait," she cried out. "I...I can't."

Tajana turned and stooped to the distraught girl's level.

"What do you mean you can't?" She asked.

Lorelie's lower lip trembled and her eyes began to water. "I-I'm sorry. They said they would let me g-go."

Tajana shook her head and placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. "I thought you said they took you? What do you mean they'd let you go?"

A few tears rolled down Lorelie's cheeks and left soft indentations in the sand below. "I'm so s-sorry. If I brought you...they'd let me go."

The pilot opened her mouth to speak but silenced herself when she heard the soft crunching of sand beneath boots behind her. She whipped her head to the side and she placed one hand on her blaster. A loud smack echoed off the nearby stone and clay buildings, and a few droplets of blood splattered across the walkway when the solid butt of a blaster rifle collided with Tajana's temple. Her blaster slid across the desert floor, and her body collapsed at the feet of three tall shrouded figures.

_________

Mando followed the familiar, small set of footsteps all the way from Bestine to Anchorhead. He watched how they traveled from shopping strip to cantina, stopping along the way to converse with everyone who was willing to take time to talk with her as well. They continued to pace up and down the street, even as other people made their leave and headed inside for the night. What caught Mando's attention though, was a second, smaller set of foot prints that started to trail behind Tajana's. They stopped behind a row of supply crates, right where it appeared Tajana approached the stranger. The trail didn't go far however, for they stopped several feet away, and were then joined by three other people. Then, five sets of prints turned into four, with Tajana's being the absent set.

Mando deactivated his tracking setting in his visor. He stooped down to glance at dried crimson splatters in the sand that just barely caught his attention underneath the faint glow of a nearby street light.

"Dank farrik," he cursed to himself, pounding his fist into the sand. "I told you to wait for me."

_________

Tajana groaned in discomfort when the overly bright glow of a small fire in the center of a cramped hut flooded her blurry vision.

"It's about time you woke up," a recognizable male's voice called out beside her. Tajana blinked heavily several times, trying hard to focus her eyesight on her attacker.

"Darro," she acknowledged through gritted teeth.

The familiar man smiled down condescendingly at the raven haired woman. Her wrists were bound together tightly behind her back, and all her weapons had been removed and cast off to the side.

"I heard you were lingering around these parts before you even came back to Mos Espa. Traveling with a Mandalorian now, are we? News traveled rather fast regarding the assassin you two went after several weeks ago. You were long gone by the time I heard about it. But then, as luck would have it, you decided to come back to your hometown. I figured you would’ve been smart enough to stay away, but I guess not. I suppose it doesn't help that your current partner only draws more attention to you."

Tajana stared up angrily at him. She broke eye contact with him momentarily to glance around the room and noticed Lorelie cowering off in the corner behind him, along with another man who stood guard by the front entrance.

"It looks like you haven't changed your ways one bit after all these years. Did you take her from her home too?" Tajana spat, nodding in the direction of the terrified girl.

Darro shrugged. "Only after I heard you were in town. I knew you would fall for the whole kidnapping set up," name walked over slowly to Tajana. He hooked one finger in the loop of her scarf, pulling the dirtied fabric down over her shoulders. "I knew if had my guys follow you around Mos Espa and let slip the tiniest bit of information for you to hear, you'd want to come running to the rescue of another slave in need. You forget I know all about how your mind works. It seems like you haven't changed any after all this time, either."

The golden eyed woman lowered her head in disgust, hiding her face underneath her long curtain of hair. "I guess it doesn't surprise me that you would’ve tried to follow in daddy's footsteps, huh? Trying to act like some big, bad, rebel fighter. You always tried to so hard to help free the others, and yourself."

"You could’ve made me a wealthy man, you know. I didn't want to butcher that pretty little face of yours, but you didn't give me any other choice. I needed to make it so no one else would want you, so you would stop running away from me. Even then, you became too much for me to want to deal with. You always were so annoyingly stubborn and incredibly hard headed. I didn't want to put you down like your daddy was by the Imps, so I figured I would try to get some pocket change off you by selling you to the moisture farmers. Of course, you had to go and ruin that too by running away. You could’ve had a good life on Arvala, working on the farms and what not. You, on the other hand..." he clicked his tongue in a condescending manner and raised his blaster to rest against the throbbing side of her head, "you always gotta bite the hand that feeds, don't you?"

A sudden yell and sounds of blaster fire made everyone in the room turn to face the wooden doorway. The eerie silence that followed the violent commotion outside would’ve been overbearing if Tajana didn't have an idea of who was on the opposite side of the door. Her heart beat erratically in her chest out of relief when she realized there was only one person it could’ve been.

The wooden door swung wide open, nearly ripped off its hinges when one of the hooded men from Anchorhead smashed through from the outside. Darro clenched his jaw when he looked down at his fallen companion. His eyes trailed upwards to the doorway and caught the reflection of the firepit’s flames dancing across a set of unblemished, beskar armor.

"So it is true," he marveled sarcastically. "You really are fucking around with a Mandalorian." He waved the blaster theatrically in the air. "Let me ask you something, Mando. How much you pay for her, huh? What do you get out of her? What does she do for you?"

Mando stood silently, his anger bubbling beneath his beskar where it was still contained beneath his armor, threatening to spill out at any second. Darro cocked his head to the side, slowly walking up to the rigid bounty hunter. "No answer, huh? Take it she doesn't do much then. Well, let me try this. How much would you be willing to pay for her?"

Still no answer.

"She killed my men when she escaped the last time," name said, raising his voice significantly. "Someone has to pay for those damages, Mandalorian. Either I take it out on you, or I take it out on her."

When Mando failed to deliver a response, Darro hoisted Tajana off the ground roughly. Her long waves parted around her exposed face, causing Mando to direct his attention down to his feet instinctively.

Darro let out a loud, perplexed chuckle. "What does she even mean to you? Have you not seen her face? Did she tell you I'm the reason why she hides it from others?" He bragged. "Do you even know her real name, or just the name the people of Tattooine gave to her?"

Much to Darro's irritation, the bounty hunter still refused to reply. "This is proving to be a waste of my time. I can sell that beskar of yours for more than what she's worth." He looked past Mando and jerked his head to the side. The second man from the ambush in Anchorhead fastened his arms tight around the Mandalorian, sending Mando to his knees with the man's arm tight around his neck. Mando fired his flamethrower behind him, causing his attacker to release his hold on the bounty hunter. He released one of his whistling birds, which struck the man dead on and sent him falling to the ground. Tajana seized the opportunity to kick Darro's legs out from underneath him. He fell hard on top of her and scrambled to reach for his rifle that landed besides them. Mando quickly reached into his boot, unsheathing a vibroblade which he threw into Darro's hand. He screamed out in pain but was silenced when Tajana flung her tied wrists around his neck and pulled him close against her back. He fought hard against her once his airway had begun to be cut off; ripping the blade from his hand, he raised it to strike Tajana, but Mando successfully fired a round from his blaster, knocking the weapon out of Darro's hand. Lorelie rose from behind the table which she hid and scampered towards the door. With no one left to stop her, she took her chance at finally escaping.

"Just...let...her go," Tajana breathed out heavily to Mando when he stood up to chase after her.

Darro's kicks against the dirt ground and swats against Tajana's face and arms began to slow. She pulled the binders tighter and tighter against her until his resistance had stopped completely. When he stilled, she panted hard from exhaustion and threw his body from underneath her bound wrists. She turned her back towards the Mandalorian who was still averting his gaze from the exposed portion of her face. When he saw she was safely hidden from his view, Mando began looking around the room until he caught sight of what he was looking for through his narrowed visor. He took the dirt covered scarf and patted the dust and sand particles from out of the cotton fibers the best he could. Mando kept his head down low and pointed away from Tajana while passing her back the dirtied cloth.

"Thank you," she said hoarsely, taking the scarf and lazily wrapping it around herself. She was waiting for him to yell at her, waiting for him to tell her how irresponsible she was for leaving The Child behind and disobeying his orders. But nothing came through the other end of the modulator. No deep rumbling baritone told her how foolish she was or how she causes the Mandalorian nothing but trouble. There was nothing but his typical, complete silence.

Mando sorted through the mess of the hideout and found Tajana's daggers and blaster that had been put off to the side. He collected his own vibroblade and wiped the light coating of blood from the tip before using it to pick the lock on the raven haired woman's cuffs. They dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, and Mando extended one leather gloved hand out to pull his pilot to her feet. She hesitatingly accepted, and was completely caught off guard when he turned his back to her as she rose, then hooked his arms under the back of her legs to carry her against him in a piggyback fashion. Her breath caught in her throat when she hit up against him; he was so sturdy it was like being slammed into a broad beskar wall. A little grunt came from the oversized bag hanging from the hunter's side when her foot accidentally and not so lightly bumped into The Child.

"I-I can walk just fine, Mando," she nearly wheezed against the side of his helmet.

"We'll get back to the ship faster this way," Mando said curtly. Tajana flinched and ducked her head down against his shoulder when she noticed the subtle sharp edge to his voice.

Although it took her several minutes to gather the courage to speak and she was sure it was the last thing he wanted to hear right now, she finally managed to gather the courage to apologize to the intimidating man.

"I'm sorry, Mando."

The hunter kept his steady pace back to the Crest. "I told you to wait on the ship, Tajana," his voice said surprisingly delicately near her ear. The tiny spark of anger she noticed seconds ago, had completely disappeared. It was replaced with what almost sounded like...worry.

The golden eyed girl rested the side of her cheek against the small bit of unprotected space between Mando's neck and his pauldron.

"Aurelia," she said timidly. Mando took an extra step out of his ongoing rhythm. He turned his head closer to her to make sure she was actually speaking to him, or if it were a trick of his mind and she hadn't said anything at all.

"M-my name's Aurelia," she repeated almost inaudibly.

Mando blinked in surprise underneath the cover of his helmet. He continued his rhythmic march back to the Crest with the woman and child both clinging tightly to him. Just before the exhausted girl on his back closed her heavy eyes, she could’ve sworn to the Maker that she heard the Mandalorian repeat her name quietly to himself.

#the mandalorian #mando #mando x oc #mandalorian fanfic #star wars #din djarin #din djarin x oc #stay gold #pedro pascal #din x oc

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