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emilykaldwen · 6 months

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Two

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Chapter One

CHAPTER TWO - REWRITE THIS PAIN WE OWN

Aegon grapples with the news of the betrothal. Alicent has a talk with Viserys, and Larys decides to finally step in as a brother. Allegedly.

The cloisters were some of the oldest parts of the Red Keep. They spanned the distance between the high towers of the Hand and Maester, then down along the edge of the main courtyard. Most ignored the courtyard in favor of the Godswood, or the great gardens further down near the cliff edge. This was an overgrown place, where Helaena delighted, once upon a time, in digging up fat pill bugs from the dirt, or where Aemond cried after being stung by a bee from the hive towards the eastern wall; a hidden place, ignored and forgotten by the wisteria and roses that crept along the arches, unkempt and wild and hidden even in the middle of what made the Keep - and the kingdom - turn.

Aegon’s heartbeat was thundering in his ears, and their footsteps echoed off the stone walls of the staircase as he focused on putting as much distance between him and everything in that room as possible. A headache pulsed in time with his frantic heart behind his eyes, and he could taste the acrid, burning bile in the back of his throat.

Betrothed.

The cold, dainty fingers in his damp, feverish hand gripped harder as they burst through the dripping, fragrant purple wisteria draped over the many arches, and out the bright morning sun that streamed into the garden.

“Aegon?” Abby’s voice was normally a sweetly soft or excitedly curious tone. Now, it cut through the pounding rush of blood in his ears with the way it shook with uncertainty and concern.

He abruptly let go of her hand and crashed through the flower beds instead of following the stone path that the moss had all but consumed. Buzzing filled his ears, and he fell to his knees beside a red berry bush and promptly heaved out the contents of his stomach. His world narrowed down to the raw tearing inside his throat, the painful clench of his insides, his whole body jerking with the motion as the mess spattered and soaked into the soft soil.

The ravens that called the great, weeping cherry tree home burst into the air with a litany of shrieks, clearly disgusted by the display before them.

Aren’t we all? he thought, fingers plunging into the sun warmed soil while his body decided it needed a break. Aegon gasped, dizzy and unable to catch his breath as panic fought to settle in his chest. The clamminess had not started yet. A good sign. He did not think he could withstand the onslaught of nerves that burst beneath his hangover.

“Aegon? Are you alright?” she asked, still in that gentle, worried tone. His mother sounded that way once upon a time, and with his eyes closed, Aegon could almost imagine it was his mother’s voice full of concern. It was not the voice of Alicent Hightower, however, but Abby and the worry that she hid behind her constant, ever present smile.

Except for years back, when her ocean blue eyes had gone dark and her little mouth went flat. Back then when her world burst into flames, he tried to save her. The girl he’d wrenched from the depths of grief had come back too bright, too smiling, too worried for everyone else but herself. Too prepared to burn herself out for everyone else while she froze.

He could only give her a resounding groan in response, because, well, it was exactly how he felt. He tensed, waiting to hear her footsteps through the garden to him, for it was something she would do: make sure he was alright, run a cool hand over his burning skin as she’d done for as long as he could remember. Shame burned his cheeks. He did not want her to see him like this. He hated it, and yet, here they were.

She’d have to get used to it, won’t she? Miserable, disgusting lech that you are.

Aegon chanced a glance over through damp tendrils of hair in his eyes, and saw her slippered feet and the swish of her blue skirt move away towards the willow and fountain that anchored the west end of the garden. He exhaled slowly, relief easing the knot in his chest while he watched the blue fabric finally vanish behind a bush with fat, pink and blue flowers. Perhaps she’d go drown herself in the fountain like a girl from a song to avoid this.

This, the thing he’d wanted since he was a boy and now could not run from faster.

Betrothal.

Marriage.

Aegon carefully lay down beside the bush, arm flung out and hair sticking to the dampness of his forehead. He was never awake this early, when the sun had barely crested over the walls. His throat burned and his stomach ached, chest too tight, and if he stood, he’d have to face her and it was the last thing he wanted to do.

He wanted to face her with a straight spine, sword at his side, a hand extended. My lady, he’d say, and her cherubic cheeks with her freckles would blush as red as her beautiful curls. Will you take me as your husband? He’d ask and show her how much he wanted her, instead of being ordered to. Her heart shaped mouth would part in surprise, her doll-like features bright with joy. Her fingers would slip into his, cold to his hot and he’d wrap her up and keep her warm. Warm and smiling and happy until they were old and gray and crumbling into dust.

Gods, he’d be so good to her.

Instead, she was alone over there and he was alone over here, dizzy and smelling of wine and vomit with a bite mark from one of the women he’d fucked either last night or mayhaps it had been in the early hours of this morning, right on his thigh from a less than stellar servicing.

The names of the others his mother and grandfather had listed off floated through his mind. Every single suitor was surely more worthy to be whatever it was they wanted him to be; every single one another reminder that they were forcing this. They weren’t even giving her to him, not to love like he wanted. No, they were taking his Maiden and turning her into a pawn just like him, placing her on the board beside him to move them both as his mother and grandfather pleased.

It felt like something sacrificial; dark and maybe sacred in whatever deals had been made, whatever machinations brewed behind the curtains that he could not see.

Everything worth having was meant to be claimed as he had Sunfyre, not shoved into his arms behind deceptively passive smiles.

A butterfly with green and blue wings edged in black floated across his vision and he wondered if Helaena had come out here recently. A fat bumblebee came afterwards, and he remained still and unblinking as it came near his nose, So close he could feel the brief brush of air from its buzzing wings, before it wandered away towards something that was far prettier and smelled better.

As Aegon’s ears adjusted to the sounds of the garden, he could finally make out the trickle of water from the fountain, and amidst it, the quiet murmur of Abby’s voice as she must be talking or humming to herself. He focused on the sound, as loathsome as he felt, and it helped ease the knots that had wound their way between his ribs. It always had. Long ago, when they were small, he’d crawl under tables to hide and press his heated skin against the cold floor. Her fingers would stroke his hair, and he’d plead for extras out of the treats she’d pilfer from the kitchens.

He hummed softly, soothing himself as he tried and gathered up the courage to rise shakily to his feet. His head spun, and he wobbled a bit before turning to focus on where she had gone. The humming caught in his throat as he finally focused on the sight before him, air leaving his lungs.

The fountain deep within the overgrowth still ran. Cool, crystal clear water poured from the cupped palms of the kneeling dragon queen. Queen Rhaenys tilted her lovely face up, a joyful expression forever etched in stone as the head and neck of her dragon, Meraxes, curled around her protectively.

They said that the Conqueror had never recovered the body of his love, for Rhaenys had died in Dorne and they’d only brought back the dragon’s head. Meraxes was ensconced below in Balerion’s Hall, for his sire was allegedly a romantic, although it was the Black Dread that was worshiped. He privately thought - since none cared for his voiced opinions - that his namesake would rather it be Meraxes they worshiped, or the two together. Aegon wondered if they interred part of the lost Queen within the garden, for the Conqueror’s tower loomed above the cloisters, and the King would look down upon the garden, where he sought solace after her passing.

Joy, his maester once said, had left the world when Rhaenys died, and that loss of joy gave rise to Maegor. As a child, he thought he’d marry his Maiden out of desire just as his namesake did Queen Rhaenys. As a child in their games, he was the Conqueror, and she his joyful queen, who he’d rescue from a terrible fate in Dorne, or from dastardly lords who’d want to claim her. Jaceaerys’ had played Harren the Black once, with Abby taking part of the hostage Queen (even though it never really happened, it didn’t matter). How fierce and bright his joy had been to hear her call out for him while he climbed the rocky outcropping of ‘Harren’s Tower’. How hard he fought to rescue her from Jacaerys’ clutches, where she’d cling to him and he’d protect her as they made their escape. For he could do what the Conqueror could not - save the one who held his heart.

How much he enjoyed being the hero to the rest of them. How he lived for her reliance on him as her protector in their mock battles.

The weeping cherry tree towered over this part of the garden. Its branches spread out and dappled the morning light that streamed in. Moss ran over the stone path of the garden and along the edges of the fountain where Rhaenys’ statue reached out to him. His red-rimmed eyes moved from the stone face to where Abby sat. She focused on something in the water, one hand reaching up to brace on the snout of the stone dragon as she leaned over. The long ends of her curls dragged through the water with the motion as she pushed something, murmuring words he couldn’t hear. A laugh escaped her as her mouth broke into an amused smile, so unlike the frightened one she gave him in the tower. The smile she wore to comfort others when she was afraid.

I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair.

The wind shook petals from the tree, sending the pink cascading down to blanket the surrounding area, and caught in her delicate curls. She did not notice him, and he approached quietly as the moss muffled his footsteps.

“Oh dear, not there, you little sailor. This way with the current,” she said, her laughing tone was bright, but he could hear the tremulous edge beneath it. Her hand reached out to a floating leaf, a tiny frog perched happily upon it.

Aegon moved slowly so as not to startle her. Perhaps he was buying himself time, knowing that everything careful in the moment was on the precipice of shattering. He stepped towards her, so close he could nearly feel the gentle warmth of her form. The scent of bergamot and rose clung softly to her hair, and as he leaned down to sit beside her, he instinctively raised his arm to catch around her waist lest she tumble into the cold water.

He froze. Her eyes met his in the reflection.

The back of his throat burned.

“Careful.” His voice was hoarse and raw, and even in the ripples of the water he could see how pale and sallow he looked. How pitiful compared to the delicate look of hers. “You don’t want to fall and hit your head.”

He pulled his arm back. He could not initiate. She was welcome to do so, but Aegon? Aegon was a greedy thing. It gnawed like a dragon in his chest. He did not trust himself to ever touch first, to not pull her into his ribs and cage her inside of him, to not make her his to hold and hoard.

He felt dizzy and the burning in the back of his throat grew. His vision spun and Aegon dropped to his knees on the ledge and plunged his head beneath the water before he could vomit all over her. The world was pleasantly muffled beneath the water, and he shut his eyes, exhaling bubbles in the water. Time slowed, the heat of his skin cooled, and Aegon felt like he was floating. Even his headache had eased.

Hands gripped and tugged at his shoulders, pulling him from the floating world he had hidden himself in. Abby left him gasping and sputtering, her little fists shaking him, and he finally focused on her tirade. “Careful not to hit my head? Aegon! What are you doing?” she cried.

Water streamed down his face, plastering his hair to his head and obscuring his eyes. Sputtering and coughing for air, Aegon felt the bubbling of giggles falling from him like a madman. His shoulders shook, delighting in her reaction and the way her usually calm demeanor gave way to worry and annoyance.

It should not have brought him great joy to see her reaction, and yet…

Aegon’s giggles continued, although he had the great decency to try to soften them at the angry flash in her lovely blue eyes. The fabric of her blue dress had darkened in spots from the water he’d sent everywhere; it soaked her sleeves up to the elbows and his eyes caught a few beads of water tracing down her throat into the square neckline of her dress, along the soft sprinkle of freckles and… he should not be looking, but she was his betrothed now. That meant it was okay, right?

He tore his gaze from the blush that spread along her throat. He should not look. He could not look. He could not be trusted.

“At least we like one another,” she offered with her usual hopefulness and tried to get him to meet her eyes. “That counts for something, doesn’t it, Aegon?”

Stop saying my name, he thought. Then, never stop saying it, Seven, never stop.

Aegon snorted, his laughter bursting forth before he could even stop and think of it. The water that still trickled over his face spewed out from his nose and he could feel his face heat from his dance at the edge of hysterics. Amusement and abject panic, always. “Like one another?” he gasped out amid his fit. He fell back onto the grass. “What a grand marriage liking one another will make.” His own parents had liked one another once, and he dealt with the fallout of that every moment he drew breath.

Tears welled up in his eyes from his exertions and as the laughter settled, he realized he was alone in it. Confusion overtook the panic, and he finally focused on her.

Abby still sat on the edge of the fountain, her head turned away. Her curls hung down and spilled once more into the water, but he could see how red her face was. One arm had wrapped itself around her waist with fingers hooked into her belt; the other gripped the edge of the worn stone with white knuckles. There were no twitching, bloody fingers, but the cut of her shoulders tensed all too familiarly, too familially.

Her chin was trembling and her teeth had bitten into the plump pink of her lower lip. A bead of blood welled and rolled down her chin. Red streaked across her flushed skin when she hurriedly wiped it away.

Aegon’s laughter eased, his mouth dry, mirth still clear from the tear streaks on his cheeks, and something painful and heated ignited in the pit of his stomach.

Good, he thought. It was good that he’d upset her. It was good for her to expect less.

“You know, I didn’t ask for this either, Aegon.” Her tone was even, but instead of gentle, it was sharp. A sudden swipe of claws because his ankle had gotten too close to the cat who had been napping there. “I never asked for you.”

I never wanted you, he heard lurking beneath, and that ugly, heated thing burned inside of him. She couldn’t even look at him and Aegon’s heated cheeks darkened and he could feel it spreading down his neck, past his soaking collar, until it felt like his very heart might burst out of his chest at the humiliation that was settling in.

“I never asked for you either.” He was pushing up to his feet just as she was, and she still would not look at him. “Aren’t you getting the better deal out of this, anyway? I’m making you a fucking princess. Abrogail-” He reached out to jerk at her arm that still wrapped around her waist, fingers harsh and angry and Aegon could not help himself.

A chirp escaped her, The same sort she made when she touched a bowl that was too hot, or stabbed herself with her embroidery needles.

She finally looked up at him, and the humiliation he felt deepened as the shame threatened to manifest and noose around his neck. Her mouth pinched white around the edges except for the blood that welled along where she’d bitten her lip, her large blue eyes glossy and shining in that way he hated and had promised once upon a time, childishly, to protect her from.

The urge to drag his tongue along the streak of crimson across her mouth was growing, anything but childish and he forced his focus to anything else. His eyes darted to the hand that held her upper arm and the way his fingers pressed in hard enough to push in the fabric of her pretty, now wet, dress. So distracted by his hand on her arm, Aegon did not notice her other hand rise until she clawed at the exposed skin of his wrist and he howled in pain, immediately releasing her and looking at the four streaks of red across the back of his wrist and the blood that welled up.

Good, he thought again, as instead of that helpless look she had, it morphed into something flushed and angry at him. Better this than that biddable sweetness she used to placate herself and others. Better her rage than delusion.

I’m sorry, his lips moved to try form the words but her delicate hands came up and shoved him with a grunt. There wasn’t a lot of strength behind it, but with how unsteady he was already, it took little to send him sprawling back on his ass on the ground.

“I’ve never asked for anything from you, Aegon,” she croaked out. Her skirts gathered in her hands, she all but ran from him and the garden, disappearing behind the dripping wisteria and into the Keep.

Good.

Aegon scowled at his reflection in the fountain, and scattered it in his frustration.

“You were missed at council today, Viserys,” Alicent said as the doors to the King’s chambers were shut behind her, her voice as clipped as her footsteps along the stone floor.

A slight cough shook the King’s shoulders. He had been unwell the past few weeks, but was getting around again now, finally out of bed and reclined in his chair with furs piled around him. Maester Mellos had expressed concern about him losing the rest of the arm, but they’d saved it. Viserys hummed, turning the pages of the book before him, and Alicent was truly taken aback by how similar Aemond and Viserys were. The boy had spent little time around his disinterested father, so she could not attribute the similarity - the tone of the hum, the focus on the book of histories rather than to whatever she might be saying - to anything other than inheritance.

At least the disinterest was not among the traits passed down. Aemond paid attention to her. Aemond listened to her. Aemond, her baby boy, her brightest star, cared for her, and heard her.

A fondness built in her chest - rare the past handful of years. She had not always felt resentment towards her husband. Once, she even enjoyed his company, sitting and listening to him speak of matters that were close to him, being a valuable voice of reason. It was Viserys who had opened the seat on the Small Council to her, as his queen, gifting her something not even Aemma Arryn had.

Perhaps that was why it all hurt so much.

“We have summoned the Lords Blackwood and Bracken, along with Lord Tully - I’m assuming the grandson - to answer for the continued violence that has not ceased.” Alicent’s report fell from her like a page bringing a missive to their master and the familiarity of the charade grated on her nerves but she kept her tone neutral. A simple recounting of events to keep the king apprised of the council that she ran now.

That received a response. Viserys tilted his head with a curious furrow of his brow. “Why ever for? It is a Riverlands matter, Not something to concern ourselves with.”

“It is not simply a Riverlands matter when they are burning each other’s lands and whomever gets caught in the crossfire. Lord Tully will not bring them to heel,” Alicent normally did not snip so quickly in their conversations, but her concerns and worry overshadowed her careful control. Of course, Aegon frayed her nerves more than they already were. She was on edge, as time with her eldest always pushes her to. “The council thought it best that we summon the three houses together for mediation, so they may see that their actions have far-reaching implications.” She paused, reaching to pick up the dragon figurine atop one of the dusty buildings. The stone mason had done a remarkable job fixing it all those years ago. The cracks were barely visible, but still there. “Should the Riverlands show weakness, the Ironborn may decide that may prove better ground for raiding once more.”

“Mmm, sounds like Tyland would rather have the Riverlands bicker and peck at one another then. I believe Lord Farman wrote of a raid a few moons ago? Best to give them somewhere else to look. I fear the Ironborn will always be trouble no matter what.” Viserys chuckled at his own black humor and Alicent nodded, a tight smile creasing her features. Tyland knew ships, knew the sea, but he was no Corlys Velaryon, who had no plans to return to shore soon, judging by the last updates he’d sent from the Stepstones. “A slow meeting, then?”

The pumice stone scraped softly as she put the dragon back. “We announced the engagement of Aegon to Abrogail Strong.” Viserys looked confused once more before recollection dawned on him and he made a quiet ‘ah’. “The Grand Maester and Lord Tyland thought that, with Aegon’s name day approaching, we might combine the celebration and throw a tournament, and maybe a hunt.”

The fire crackled in the quiet and Alicent finally allowed herself to relax and pour herself a cup of wine from the side table before taking a seat on the chair normally reserved for the stonemason. She did not mind a bit of dust. “Aegon will be eight and ten. A man grown, A man who will now marry and start a family of his own. That is worthy of celebration, is it not?” A sad smile crossed her face as she met her husband’s eyes and found a mirror of her own expression there.

“Aye, it is. I remember how much he laughed when we took him on that hunt. Do you remember?” Wistful, Viserys tilted his head and picked up a half carved dragon. “Waving his wooden dragon around, his joyful laughter.” A lump formed in Alicent’s throat, and she occupied herself with her wine glass. “He was always laughing, I remember that, before the others came along. Didn’t enjoy sharing the spotlight, did he?” Another chuckle. “But I think we’ve raised a fine boy, haven’t we?”

It was Alicent’s turn to be struck dumb. The recollection of Grandmaester Mellos struggling to find anything to say about her son came back to mind and the stab of pain between her ribs had her turning her head with a nod and a hum. Unbidden, she thought of Rhaenyra, crying softly beside her in the sept for the loss of her mother, and the confusion at feeling as if her own father did not understand her. Alicent took a gulp of wine. Quiet for a moment before she allowed herself to speak. “Yes, my love, we have raised a fine boy.”

“My father would find it strange, you know, that Aegon does not marry Helaena. Your father thought we should wed Rhaenyra to Aegon, but Laenor, rest his soul, was such a good man.” The comment had Alicent’s eyes widening, and she nearly choked as she took another sip of wine.

“He suggested what?” Whatever expression she had earned laughter from the king as she dabbed at her wine soaked chin.

“That was my reaction,” he chuckled. “Ridiculous. Things have a way of working themselves out, though, do they not? Why, I jested with Lyonel that very night if he was going to offer his son to marry Rhaenyra after Jason Lannister thought he could offer my daughter compensation.”

Funny that, Alicent thought, keeping her features still as the stone that lay between them. Guilt twisted in her belly at the memory of Lyonel Strong. How grateful in her grief and solitude she had been for the warm companionship of her cousin, Celeste, his wife. How grateful for the kindness she and Lyonel had shown her - the closest she had to family that were not her own children. How guilty she still felt to know that Lyonel’s death was through her own desperation.

“Lord Lyonel would approve the match. I recall we had discussed it once, not long before…” She swallowed, her mouth gone dry, and Alicent flexed her fingers against her goblet, stretching them out like a cat flexing its claws. The tension that ran through them ached.

Viserys hummed again, losing his longtime friend visible on his features and he drummed his fingers upon the book before him. “Did he? He never mentioned it to me, but…” A shift of his countenance as he visibly recoiled against the sadness and grief. “Aegon will find a fine wife in the Strong girl, if she’s anything like her father. Lyonel did well to temper some of my admittedly more foolish ideas. I may have been more inclined to listen without issue had they come from a comely maiden.”

Another pang, this time as she recognized the smirk on Viserys’ face as the same she’d seen across Aegon’s as he teased his siblings with some ribald comment.

That had come from observation, she was certain. As had the drinking.

Alicent took another sip of her wine.

“Lord Larys has suggested that after they’re married, Aegon and Abrogail would go to Harrenhal. She is his heir. Aegon could do well to have some responsibility. We will have to decide what to do with Sunfyre.”

“You cannot separate a boy from his dragon. Rhaena housed Dreamfyre at Harrenhal when she resided there. We’ll ensure they’re up to snuff before they go.” A glimmer crossed his features, curiosity and excitement. “My grandfather gave Harrenhal to the Strongs. It seems fitting that we have come full circle. You know, it was a Strong who was the longest serving Hand of the Conqueror. They are the most loyal of friends. Advisors. Defenders.”

It was her turn to hum, biting back the urge to invoke how Ser Lucamore Strong had sired nigh a dozen bastard children before being sent to the Wall. At least in Ser Harwin’s case, he had not been a Kingsguard - not that vows had stopped Rhaenyra before. Alicent took a breath, willing the vindictiveness to bleed out of her. Those were unkind things to think, for Harwin was not the one at fault. The princess’ whims drove Harwin, as poor, loyal Criston before him, into her clutches.

Rhaenyra had never been offered up on a platter - not in the way she’d been, not in the way she was doing to Abrogail. Mother above, please forgive me, Celeste.

Alicent did not seek to fill the silence. She watched her husband look at his book, but knew he was not truly reading it. No, he was planning something, tapping down his temper, or both. Viserys always had a temper, even if it rarely burned as hotly as Rhaenyra’s did. She had gotten better at withstanding the heat, as she’d gotten better at withstanding many things over the years.

“Why aren’t we marrying Aegon and Helaena?” he finally asked. It was only a question, no lure and trap beneath his words. “You were so against the match with Rhaenyra’s boy, so why not them? Had I a living sister, I would have married her. It’s the Targaryen way.”

The Targaryen Way is not always the right way, she thought. Aegon’s claim would need to challenge Rhaenyra’s without question, but her solution would not be to yoke her sweet daughter to her own brother simply because they were half dragons.

She remembered Aemond, maimed and covered in bandages to protect the wound from infection, standing in the doorway of the solar at breakfast. It had left her speechless in the moment, but now the memory left a slight smile gracing her face.

“Because Aemond bonded with Vhagar, and declared that should Helaena marry anyone but him, he would burn the realm down and us with it.”

The sentence hung in the air until Viserys roared with laughter and Alicent joined him. It had been so long since she had laughed that tears pricked the corners of her eyes. It felt good to laugh with the man she called husband, than to feel so terribly lonely.

“Spirited! Boy knows what he wants.” He slapped his hand on the open book before him with another laugh. “Well, how about a two-fold celebration? We could-”

“I thought, perhaps, a Baratheon marriage might suit Aemond. He is of an age with Lord Borros’ eldest. With Abrogail leaving, she may also make a fine companion for Helaena, and maybe another sister for the Harrenhal court. I was going to write to him, invite her to the Keep so they may get to know one another.” Helaena would need time to adapt to a new companion, and she was not looking forward to the fallout of the changes should her daughter not go along with it. Viserys’ laughter ebbed and Alicent swirled the wine in her goblet. The garnet liquid caught the firelight. Fire and blood. She tapped her fingers along the sides of it, knowing that she had to be careful. “The gods blessed us with three sons and a single daughter. We should take advantage of that to help spread some stability in the realm.”

Sons you so desperately wanted and then summarily denied.

“Is the realm truly so unstable, wife?” Sharp, pink-lilac eyes turned to her. Another expression, this one similar to the gaze that Helaena took when she was trying to convey something of import. The color was different: Aegon’s eyes were his father’s, Helaena’s closer to lavender, Aemond’s a periwinkle, and Daeron’s a cornflower blue so commonplace they’d pass for Andal were their shine not so luminous.

“No, but we have four children, husband, who will need to have their futures ensured and cared for,” she pointed out reasonably and nothing she said was wrong. Their futures needed to be assured. Viserys gave little response, but she could see he knew she was right. Quiet reigned once more. She noticed cobwebs had formed along the primary thoroughfare of the stone city.

“The blood of the dragon must remain pure, Alicent,” Viserys said with a strength absent from before. Alicent looked over at her husband, who did not look at her. Instead, he’d risen and stepped closer into the inlet of his miniature Valyria. “We are above mortal men. We are dragonriders, and dreamers of great things. Aegon the Conqueror dreamed of great things, of this realm that has, in fact, become great.”

Where was Viserys going with this? “I remember you telling me. Aegon’s second name day, in front of the bonfire.” He’d been mad with grief and drink, had scared her with his dream of Aegon wearing the crown in front of an adoring crowd - how Aemma had paid the price for chasing it, with his doubt and confusion as their son slept soundly in his little bed. She opened her mouth to press the matter, but the king continued.

“You are not a Targaryen, my dear wife, but that does not mean that no matter how you dress them in green, your children will be anything but.” Alicent drew back in her chair and the grip on her cup tightened. Her children, not his. Not his no matter what happened. “Pursue this Baratheon marriage if you’d like, and should Aemond want it, then it’s fine with me. If his mind is not changed, then they have my blessing.”

Abrogail felt like she was fraying at the edges, unmoored from her usual sense of self: calm, collected, able to focus regardless of what was on her mind. None of that mattered in the wake of what happened in the tower or what followed between her and Aegon. She’d barely allowed herself any time to collect herself before joining Helaena and Aemond in the gardens, letting Aemond fill the silence as Helaena’s focus ebbed and flowed.

So distracted she’d been, thoughts lingering on the morning’s events, that she hadn’t heard Helaena’s persistent calling until she’d snapped a frustrated “What?” to be met with Helaena’s surprised gasp and wide eyes… which in turn had Aemond turning an angry eye to her viciously. He hadn’t said anything particularly harsh, but with her own guilt at snapping and Aegon’s behavior, and then Aemond’s anger, she’d left the gardens in tears, ignoring Helaena’s calls for her to come back. The princess hadn’t ordered her return. Perhaps for the best.

Perhaps she’d be pulled from her service sooner than anticipated, and replaced with Penrose. Punished for her insolence. Marrying Aegon, did that mean she was on the same level as Helaena? That once married, Helaena couldn’t order her about, or that Abby was meant to serve her?

More often than not, Abrogail was Helaena’s bedmate, the two girls sharing pillows since she’d become the princess’ proper companion. It meant that her rooms outside the holdfast had all but been abandoned. She was a visitor more often than a tenant, so much so that it had taken Allana Tyrell and Josana Lannister a moment to recognize her when they passed in the halls - the elder girls arrived at court after a season away - and exchanged pleasantries. Abrogail all but ran the last few yards to her destination, and nearly slammed the heavy door shut behind her.

The apartments that belonged to Larys were modest, housing only a sitting room and two bedrooms: Larys’ to the left and hers to the right. So unlike the warm, multiple levels of the Hand’s tower that she’d spent years exploring and playing in. The room was empty when she burst in and she was grateful that her quiet, piercing elder brother could not witness her state as she sought solace in the cold and empty chamber. There was no warm fire crackling merrily in the hearth to welcome her, and she had to go back to the sitting room to fetch the pitcher of water there to clean her face from the tears and calm the burning of her cheeks. Not even Theraxis was there to comfort her as he often did, rolled onto his back, fluffy belly offered to bury her face in and have her hair licked by his sandpaper tongue.

A sob tore at her chest and she gulped the rest down and went to the bed and collapsed upon the cold sheets. Fingers curling in the comforter, she tried her best to hold back her tears. Even alone, she could not let the despair overcome her.

It had not been long after her mama died that Corynna, her elder half sister and Larys’ sister, had sent word that she would take her sweet little sister as she needed a strong, motherly presence in her life. Abrogail had been distraught and trying to hide it as they had fallen into a game of hide and seek that bright day.

I’ll marry you, Aegon had whispered into her hair, the pair of them hiding beneath the heavy boughs of a flowering bush as Jacaerys played seeker in their game of hide-and-seek. I’ll marry you and they won’t send you away because you’ll be mine. They’d been little more than babes in leading strings then, where Aegon’s smile had not faded into bitterness and her life had still been warm and safe. Crumbled sweets shared as the pair did their best to hide from the persistent Jace, and it had been Harwin who found them hours later. Asleep surrounded by the scent of rhododendrons and petals caught in red and silver heads both.

She did not know how long she lay atop her bed, only that the shaft of sunlight through the narrow window inched across the bed and across her skirts until the familiar drag-thump drew her notice towards the door. Larys was generally quiet and she’d only heard it for it was a sound she knew her whole life.

Her brother was taller than he generally appeared, and in the half light of the early evening, for a moment Abrogail thought he looked very much like their father. The same widow’s peak, the similar set of the jaw even though Lyonel had been a larger man than his second son. She sat up, swiping her sleeve across her face as Larys watched her with his inscrutable look.

“I needed to be alone,” she said softly. “I apologize for bothering you.” She wasn’t sure if she truly needed to apologize for being in her own room, but it was often difficult to discern her brother’s reaction to her. They weren’t close, and their relationship was not a warm one. Abrogail felt that when it came to her, Larys Strong was not quite sure what to make of her or even what to do with her.

“It is your room,” he finally said with a tilt of his head and an ambivalent shrug. She watched him as he perused the area, lingering on the empty grate and then to her. Years of practice kept her from instinctively shifting beneath his gaze but it was still an uncomfortable feeling being sized up. “Although it is not very comforting for what troubles you. I’m sure today has been more than a shock to you, sister.” Abrogail opened her mouth, then closed it with a click and merely nodded. He let out a hum and tapped his cane on the floor before opening the door further. “Well, it all works out in the end. I meant to speak with you this evening anyway. Come - Father would insist you have a belly full of warm food to dry your tears.”

As if on cue, her stomach growled and the scent of fresh bread and meat finally registered. She was starving, having only eaten that morning and so she followed her brother into the sitting room. It was warmer, the fire blazing, and the table was set with plates of food and fresh Malvales flowers in a vase. Abrogail frowned slightly at the sight of them. The only other place she’d seen them other than the Godswood was in the Queen’s chambers. She knew her brother counseled Queen Alicent and they shared meals from time to time, but the flowers still seemed strange. The servant who’d brought the food ladled fresh, steaming boar stew onto plates and Abrogail reached for a warm roll when her eyes caught on the basket of cakes to the side. They glistened with syrup, and the fresh scent of oranges assaulted her when she drew close until her brother’s sharp tsk stopped her. “For after you’ve finished your plate.” A slight twitch of a smile when he sat himself down, dismissing the servant and for a moment she simply stared at him.

“You sounded so much like Papa,” she said as she sat across from him.

“Mmm, I do hear that sometimes. I suppose one tends to pick up manners from their elders. How often I’ve heard those very words come from him, hm?” She scrunched her face up with a half smile playing on her own features and quietly dug in.

Neither Strong attempted to fill the silence as they tucked into their meal. Only the scrape of cutlery and the quiet sounds of eating filled the space. It didn’t feel like a standoff between them, even more so than when it was Larys who finally broke the silence.

“Cory will be mollified by the fact that you’re marrying a prince instead of one of the Lannister bannermen,” he said nonchalantly as he spoke of his sister. “She’s been hounding me to send you to her, but I know how much this place is home to you. Harrenhal is a far closer ride on your husband’s dragon than in a wheelhouse or on a ship from Lannisport.”

“Has she?” Abrogail wasn’t sure what else to say as the thoughts that swirled through her continued to distract her. Her and her sister were not at all close. Clever and sharply delicate, Corynna Strong could have gone to the Citadel had she been born a man. Instead, she had begrudgingly married the third Lannister son as the eldest was unavailable and Abrogail privately thought that their father had sent Cory away to be kept under the hawkish, watchful eye of Johanna Lannister instead of getting underfoot there in King’s Landing.

Abrogail did not complain. The few times she’d been with her, Cory was a sharp, judgemental woman who always had a criticism for how to improve herself, and more often than not had taken to pinching her arms and waist and assessing with that inscrutable countenance she shared with Larys. “Uncle Otto mentioned several,” she paused to tear at a piece of bread to keep from fidgeting. “Several, um, suitors? You never mentioned them.”

“Well the Queen didn’t either and although I am your brother, and head of our house, you are her ward, and because she is Queen, she too has a say in who, ah, takes you.” Larys looked apologetic and uncertain of how to word it and she nodded in understanding to put him at ease. “Her Grace is quite fond of you, you know. She only wants what is best for you, as if you were her own daughter. It is sweet. Your mother would be pleased.”

Abrogail bit her lip and looked down at her plate. Tines of the fork scraped along the edge pushing meat through sauce. Targaryens have queer customs, marrying their siblings or their uncles, she thought. Would her and Aegon’s children have to wed one another, as was tradition? Her head pounded with all the questions and she struggled to find a place to begin.

“Yes, I think she would,” she said finally and met her brother’s concerned gaze. It was the softest she’d ever seen him, which was saying a lot given his nature. For the first time, Abrogail felt like her brother might actually feel like her brother. “I don’t know where to start with all my questions, Larys,” she found herself admitting, reaching to him across this distance. “From being your heir, to how this all came to happen. I’m so overwhelmed and…” she trailed off with a slump of her shoulders and another lump in her throat.

She reached for her goblet of red wine, trying to push the feeling away. A wince crossed her features as the sharpness of it hit her tongue. She tended to favor the sweetness of ciders and meads.

The scent of the arbor red reminded her of Aegon.

Abrogail put the goblet down and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, brother.”

“No need, dear sister. Being overwhelmed is only natural in this case, but your willingness to be open with your questions reassures me that you and I can start forging our own road. You are my heir, and although we are not close, I do care for you, Abrogail.”

“Do you?” she asked. She raised her eyebrows. “Larys, you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t even like me.”

He matched her expression with his own. “I do. Besides, you are a woman grown now and far easier to talk to than a rambunctious child of eight.” Abrogail felt her cheeks heat and she couldn’t find fault in his argument there. A soft chuckle escaped him and she watched him resume tearing apart a roll. He did it so oddly and always had. Fingers carefully working along the circumference of the warm bread and slowly spreading it apart, so the soft interior gently pulled as if he savored the very act.

To be fair, it was good bread.

“There are none that attract my gaze, and I doubt there ever shall be. Given that I have little penchant for things like mistresses or whoring, there will be no progeny. Corynna’s rights are forfeit, as she’s married a Lannister.” He paused, gazing at her for a long moment until she realized he expected an answer from her.

Abrogail frowned as she thought. Corynna had married a third son, but the children of that union may very well wed Lord Jason’s son, Or marry into banner houses should they not have more children. Or even become heirs of the Rock. “As long as Rhaenyra is heir, Aegon is fourth in line. If he marries me, he gains a title and lands,” she said slowly. Jacaerys would take the throne one day, and Lucerys would have Driftmark. Little Joffrey may very well marry into another great house, but there were no more titles and lands to pass off, and that was before Queen Alicent’s children were considered, and the Queen wanted Aegon to be King.

To say it out loud would be treason, and when Abrogail’s eyes found Larys’, he gave an encouraging nod. “Harrenhal would provide income independent of what is owed the crown?” Uncertainty laced her voice. She did not know much about her family’s seat. She’d only been there a handful of times, half of them having been full of grief and misery, but she did know that outside of hushed whispers of curses and ghosts, that Harrenhal’s lands were the richest in Westeros when they were handled properly. “Harrenhal is why those other families wanted me, isn’t it?”

“Some,” Larys said matter of factly. “Tully and Vance in particular given their proximity and would benefit the most. Others claimed to be enchanted by the young beauty they’d heard of growing in the Queen’s garden.” The words sounded too poetic for the man her brother seemed and the incredulous look on her face must have been all he needed, for Larys actually laughed. A strange, unused sound and a shake of his head. “Those were the words of the Vance heir, I believe. Should they have been romantic enough, you could still say no to this current arrangement.”

No, Abrogail thought. No, she couldn’t.

She wanted to ask Larys why he would be alright with her saying no. If it had been her father, she would have. Her papa had never turned her curiosity and questions away. No matter how silly or simple they may have been, he was always happy to teach her. This was probably the longest conversation they’d had since the funeral, but Abrogail did not feel comfortable asking. Not yet. Maybe… maybe someday.

“Thank you,” she said instead with a small smile and Larys seemed pleased with that. “I would like to learn more about Harrenhal. Before the wedding and everything. I want to make you proud. I want to make Papa proud.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat and was grateful that Larys did not look up at her and instead focused on buttering another bread roll.

“As my heir, I will begin to discuss these things with you, and you should begin speaking with our uncle. He will be here for the engagement tournament.” The butter knife scraped against the wooden dish as he went for more. She watched his dark hair fall into his eyes, the way Harwin’s curls would and the tightening sensation in her chest came back. Another mouthful of wine, which only reminded her of Aegon again.

Aegon’s fingers in her hair, thumb brushing her tears in the quiet of the Sept. “I’m so sorry you lost them. I’m so sorry they’re gone.”

“Abrogail?”

She blinked and found him watching her with a gentle expression. He smiled that small smile of his. “I said, perhaps we can start having our own dinners. Get to know one another better.”

“You mean like how you have dinners with the Queen?” Once a week, the pair of them met privately in her solar. She’d seen them once through the window, the pair discussing things or the queen’s voice raised about whatever terrible thing had happened that week. A friendship. A council.

Larys’ smile broadened. “Yes, dear sister. Exactly like that.”

[Chapter Three]

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon x abby #fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #my fics

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garden-of-zinnia · 6 months

Text

Cato H. ~ The Seam

We got a Cato Hadley imagine, ya'll.

TW: Swearing, canon-typical violence

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.Y/N's POV.

Wow. The Hunger Games. Never thought I'd end up here. But then again, I also never thought I'd befriend a boy who gained muscle from baking and was named after bread.

Everyone here (The capital people, the president, the game maker, the careers, and our capital escort, Effie) made it seem like it was such an honor to be a part of the games, but honestly, I just want to go home. I have my family, Katniss, Primrose, and Gale, waiting for me at home. Plus, my mom. I don't want to be here for pretty obvious reasons. Yet, here I am, in The Hunger Games, in a training center, shooting arrows at the heart of a bright colored dummy.

-.-.-.-

I was, standing on a pedestal, heart pounding wildly in my chest, waiting for the signal to run.

I already knew Peeta would try to grab a bag and weapons, but I really didn't care and bolted straight for the woods. Once I was far enough away, I grabbed a bunch of tree branches and sharpened them into make-shift spears.

But then I heard it.

The terrifying Ariana-Grande-Like screams of the I-Can't-Climb-A-Tree people.

Otherwise known as Marvel, Glimmer, Cato, and Clove. The careers.

I mean, not gonna lie here, Cato is kind of fine, but that's besides the point. They're trying to kill me. So I did the first thing that any normal human would do when encountering the careers and climbed the nearest tree. I got at least thirty feet up before the careers got to me, and when I looked down, I saw... PEETA?! WHAT THE HELL MAN?! I THOUGHT WE WERE BREAD BUDDIES?! Whatever.

Before I knew it, Glimmer was trying, and miserably failing, to shoot me with her goddamn arrows, and Cato was climbing after me.

Obviously, these are the I-Can't-Climb-A-Tree people were talking about, so he obviously fell only about 10 feet up, but I still climbed farther.

And, obviously, Peeta, being the back-stabbing asshole that he is, told them to wait for me to come down.

You know what?! FUCK YOU, PEETA. We were supposed to be bREAD BUDDIes!

Eventually, the careers went to sleep, and I soon followed their actions and layed down, but I couldn't seem to close my eyes for more than ten seconds.

-.-.-.-.

When the sun came up, I noticed three things.

1.) There was a little girl, Rue, from district 11, staring at me from another tree. She pointed at something. A tracker-jacker nest just above the careers for me to cut down. Thanks, Rue. She can replace Peeta, now :).

2.) I had a sponsor gift on the branch above me, which looked like just a small metal tin.

3.) Cato was staring into my soul from the tree next to mine.

I almost screamed when I saw Cato but quickly stopped myself. He looked into my eyes and, without hesitation, stuck his hand out to me. He was holding three small knives.

I stared at him for a second before he spoke.

"You want 'em or not, Seam?" He said, sticking his hand out farther towards me and motioning up to the tracker-jacker nest.

I slowly grabbed them, I began to cut away at the top of the hive while Cato and Rue watched from their respective places.

I got a few stings around my neck, but I eventually cut through the top of the hive, which fell onto the careers and Peeta. They all managed to get away, though.

All except one, at least.

Glimmer, the girl from district one, was almost instantly killed by the stings, and she went limp on the ground as a cannon sounded, and the tracker-jackers began to fly away.

I jumped down the tree and grabbed the nearest rock.

I began to smash at Glimmer's hand with the smooth stone and crack after crack her fingers snapped. After a few seconds, they were all broken, but the stings must have gotten to me because the last thing I was was the bow in my hand, and Cato shaking me.

Peeta ran at us and shouted. "Y/N! Y/N, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LEAVE! Y/N?!"

Then... I went limp.

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(A/N) Well, that sucked :D! Not proofread, because I hated this one. Also, Y/N, Gale, Katniss, and Primrose aren't related, just really close. But this one was like actually really shitty.

Love ya'll to bits,

♡Graysin♡Zinnia♡

Word Count: 798

#x reader #Cato Hadley #Reader x Cato Hadley #Cato Hadley x Reader #the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games x reader #reader x hunger games #reader insert

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lostonehero · 9 months

Text

Fuck it

Werewolf Martin

Martin knew he was fucked, it's been a week since he's been trapped in this damn apartment by this worm woman. He might of fucked up even more when he finally noticed his calender. This was so stupid that he prepared for this, but it was a freaky worm creature. He growls low and haunting. The sun was going down soon, and his landlord won't be happy in the slightest. What about the other people here. He especially got this place because it was cheap and nobody cared who came and went.

"L-look, please leave me a-alone." Martin pressed himself against his front door bracing against the thumps. "It's almost sunset."

He heard a mocking laugh. "Afraid of the dark? Listen to our sweet song, let it consume you join us, Martin."

Martin groaned. That isn't what he meant at all, but should he feel bad about what he was going to do? He didn't have control when he was hungry and he was trapped and this door won't hold him. He had two hours to convince this creature to leave, and he didn't exactly have his phone to call for help.

Time moved quickly after he finally made his decision. He could come up with a cover story. He's done it before, and hell, his mom never figured out what happened to him as a teen. He will have to get new clothes and explain the weight loss but fuck it.

"L-ast!" Martin was never good at counting his time as his words are cut off with a growling scream. Bones shifting and cracking fur covering his body. Then it's too quiet, and the thumping against the door seemed to laugh and get more violent until....

A loud blood curling howl and the door were broken into splinters. The worms did nothing to the giant wolf creature with red fur with streaks of black. The wolf growled and gave no warning when it charged and bit into the hive of a woman. Blood rot and worms were sprayed. The wolf bared its teeth and ran out of the complex.

.......

"Any news on Martin?" Sasha hums, looking over Tim, who was scrolling through his phone.

"Not since the beginning of the week." Tim shrugs. "I know double boss gave him sick leave even if he told us through text."

"I'm worried about the big guy he- " Sasha is cut off by stomping feet and gasping breath.

"I'm - I'm uh back." It was Martin. The man seemed to loom over them more so than normal his soft curves seemed to be replaced with muscular angles. His red hair was a mess on the top of his head, and his clothes seemed to hang on him. "Sorry I didn't mean to be gone so long."

"Geez Marto, you alright." Tim looks at him with wide eyes. "Some stomach bug you had looked at you."

Sasha gasps and gets up. "Martin, you look pale. Are you alright? You shouldn't come back if you are still sick."

Did Jane use his phone? Probably Martin sighs he needed a lie or half truth. "There was a massive break in at my flat, and it seems they used wild animals. The police are still investigating, and uh, I didn't just want to stay there while they investigate. A lot of stuff was ruined, nothing stolen. I don't think but I need a new door."

"Fucking hell Martin why come into work?" Tim stared at the taller man with a open mouth.

"They uh broke my phone so I couldn't explain to Elias what happened." Martin looked away with a blush.

"Jesus Martin." Sasha sighs. "Come on I'll come with you to explain things to Elias and then Jon."

"Oh, uh, thank you." Martin gives a nervous smile. "It's just been hectic."

"Oh sweetie, how about we make some tea after." Sasha hums. "Tim can pay for drinks later."

"I did not agree to anything!" Tim huffs but has a smile on his lips. "Glad to have ya back, big guy."

Martin's face was as red as his hair. "You guys thank you."

.......

Elias looked up from his desk and raised his brow in slight confusion, which isn't his normal Forte. "Martin, what a lovely surprise are you feeling better?"

Martin shifted and swallowed he wasn't nervous around his boss he kind of had the instinct to intimate him. Not that he would he needs this job and heaven forbid he finds out he lied. "Yeah, I was sick, and uh, then my flat was broken into with animals, and uh, I don't exactly have a phone at the moment." He recalls picking out broken pieces of his phone in his mouth the next morning.

Elias had that confused expression on his face, but it quickly was covered up. "If you need more time off, I can give you..."

Martin quickly shook his head. "No, I uh sir I rather keep my mind off of that. I'll just get back to work then."

"Alright then. Just stay safe, Martin. we wouldn't want anything bad happening to you." Elias smiles and waves Martin out.

Martin sighs. "I think that went well."

"Come on, now we have to tell Jon." Sasha hums.

"Oh right yeah, tell Jon." Martin takes a breath. It's bad enough that he had a crush on his boss, but it's worse because his instincts agreed with him to the point where he couldn't exactly write off his feelings. He also knew Jon was a cat person, which didn't help him.

....

"Martin...." Jon narrowed his gaze to the taller man. He could see whatever sickness he had taken a heavy toll on the man. Then, to have a break in on top of that. Maybe he could let some of the unfortunate behaviors of the man go for the moment. "I am glad you've returned."

Martin gave a nervous smile. "Thank you sir uh Jon thank you, Jon." He shifts slightly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Jon nods his head. "I would like one, yes."

Martin nods and quickly exits.

Jon sighs and returns to his notes. He really shouldn't be so hard on the man, but it can't be helped.

......

They were fooling around while Jon, who rarely stepped out of his office, was out. Martin always did his best not to go to work or, at the very least, leave early on the nights of the full moon. He wasn't exactly lucky today, and maybe he was being a little aggressive when he was knocked into a wall. "Oh bloody hell."

"Oh fuck me." Tim gasps.

"Is that a tunnel?" Sasha stared at the Martin sized hole in the wall.

Martin groans he could see deep into the tunnels more so than the others, but he would never admit why to them. The smell hit him, and he knew that smell, but it was fresh, and his body didn't. No, his instincts screamed at him to follow it. "Guys, we shouldn't. Uh, we shouldn't be..."

"MARTIN!" Jon shouted, and Martin didn't flinch, and if they noticed, nobody said a word. "What the bloody hell... was....that...oh."

"Hey, so didn't know you had a spooky tunnel, boss man." Tim jokes, but everyone can see the curiosity in his eyes.

"That's supposed to be a solid wall." Jon mumbles, looking at Martin, who got up dusting himself off. Be nice, Jon. "Did you hit your head?"

"N-no. I'm fine but it's getting late and we shouldn't explore this now." Martin knew the sun wouldn't be down for another 3 hours, but he also knew he couldn't trust public transport to race against the night. He didn't grab Sasha fast enough when she stepped inside the tunnel.

"Properly spooky." Sasha chuckles using the flashlight on her phone. "Come on, we investigate this stuff all the time. Now we have one at our home base. A little urban exploration won't kill us." She bites her tongue, looking back at Tim.

Tim grabs a flashlight from his keychain. "I'm with Sasha. We are employees at the spooky place. Let's unearth some spooky secrets." He's already tugging Martin along. "Come on, big guy. You'll be our muscle." He jokes.

Jon follows the three. "I suppose I would like some hard evidence." He has a flashlight on his phone as well and follows them into the tunnels.

Martin somehow made his way to the front of the group and became the so-called guide. Against his sane mind, he was following that scent he picked up earlier, and he doesn't realize how long they've been in there.

"Hey Mateo, you sure you don't need a torch?" Tim was to his side.

"O-oh yours is fine enough." Martin internally groaned he forgot to look normal. He has pretty good night vision thanks to being that, along with other enhanced senses. Speaking of which, his hand perked out, grabbing the back of Jon's sweater. "Not that way." And as if on cue, the path seemed to shift, and a wall was in place of that open tunnel.

"Dude, are you like psychic?" Tim blinks. "How did you know?"

"....smelled wrong..." Martin mumbles.

Jon blinks. "How did a wall just move out of nowhere? What even are these tunnels?"

Sasha hums and points her light up, highlighting a name. "That's a familiar name."

"Robert smirk." Tim sighs. "That guy seems to be everywhere."

Martin barely glances at Tim's phone. It was getting too late, and he knew he couldn't turn back. It was too late to backtrack he really hoped he wouldn't hurt them. He jumps at a soft touch on his arm.

"Martin, relax." Jon sighs. "I wanted to thank you for not letting me get trapped."

Martin smiles softly, and Jon swore he could see a faint glow from the larger man's eyes. "O-of course Jon, we shouldn't split up."

Jon nods. "Right, you are Martin."

They continue forward, and that familair dread was settling in Martin's core. The smell was getting stronger, and he didn't know what the state of the body would be in. He didn't know if he would be in control when... he clutched his chest in pain and fell to his side. "Bloody fuck." He gasps. He was too late, and to his left, he saw an open room and that body he was tracking.

"Martin!?" Sasha shouted as her light traveled over, revealing the large room and the dead body. She gasps and drops her phone.

Jon stared wide-eyed at the body. He's never seen a dead body before, let alone one with eyes that shouldn't still be intact.

The color drained out of Tim's face. "Holy shit."

Martin stumbled to his feet again. "Guys...." He covered his mouth, and his legs gave out with a heavy crack. He was growling, trying his best to fight this, but he knew it was futile.

"Martin, come on, get up." Jon reached out and touched Martin's shoulder. "We have to we have to report this and... and..." He felt the bone shift under Martin's skin and another loud crack.

Three pairs of eyes trained on Martin as he seemed to grow. Flesh pulled at his shifting bones and muscle. His clothes were ripped one by one as his body changed to that of a massive inhuman sized wolf.

Sasha knew she should run. She knew she shouldn't stare. Her feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. Her friend, sweet clumsy Martin, was something that was only in fantasy novels and bad romance movies.

Tim swallowed. "Easy there Martin, please tell me you're still Martin." He stepped back to the hard back of the stone tunnel.

Jon stared at the impossible. His coworker, his bumbling idiot and the sweetest man he ever met was not human. Those haunting blue eyes remained the same as he skulked closer. "Martin...?"

Martin growled and stepped closer and closer till he looked down at Jon. His hot breath came down on the shorter man. He bared his teeth for a moment before taking a long sniff. Drool dripped from his maw, and in an instant, a large heavy paw came down then...

Jon yelped and screamed, then started to laugh. "Martin! No stop, stop!" Martin pinned him to the floor, licking his face. He tried to push the lumbering wolf away, but his hands sunk into the soft fur. "S-stop! Wait, my glasses! MARTIN!"

Martin stopped and sat back, his tail thumping against the stone floor.

Sasha couldn't stop herself she approached, careful to avoid Jon on the floor. She reached her hand out on the soft fur. "YOU'RE SO FLUFFY!" She giggles as Martin licks her, making her curly hair stand up straight. "Tim, come here now. Please feel how soft he is."

Tim slowly approaches and is assaulted with the wolf's tongue. "Hey, buy me dinner first." He chuckles and scratches between his ears when he lays down. "Look at you, sweetest thing in these tunnels."

Jon gets up, barely getting any drool off his face and sweater. At least he could see since his glasses weren't broken. "He's not dangerous?"

Martin rolls over to show his belly.

"Jon, that's the universal sign that a dog likes you." Sasha squeals, rubbing his belly. "It's so soft."

"Is he still in there?" Jon's question created enough tension the room grew silent except for the panting from Martin.

Tim frowns. "He should be alright if the myths are right in the morning. I mean...WHOA" Martin has flung Tim to his back and then grabbed Sasha and Jon to sit on his back. "Hey buddy..."

A loud growl shut up any other comments. Jon held on for his life as Martin began to run hard and fast. Sasha was laughing, and Tim giggled. They exited the tunnels into the starless sky.

"Woooo!" Sasha giggles. "We're free!"

Tim chuckles, gets down, and helps Sasha down as Jon falls into the mud. "Well, good news, he's friendly, but that doesn't answer anything about him being still in there."

Jon pulls himself to his feet and sighs. "I hope he's still in there. He would make a horrible assistant stuck like this." He reached out slowly, and Martin sat down and lowered his head for Jon. "I must admit I am thankful he is friendly."

"My flat accepts pets." Tim speaks up. "Hey, don't look at me like that! How else are we going to find out if he goes back to normal in the morning?"

"Tim has a point, and I don't know where we are at the moment." Jon frowns at the lock on his hand. "Stop your insistent licking."

Sasha looks around. "Wait, I know where we are, and we're actually right by Tim's flat." She points to the sign above them, and Tim hums in agreement.

"I suppose would it be too much to ask to use your shower?" Jon sighs covered in mud and wolf slobber.

Tim snickers. "You can use it, boss. You need it more than all of us. Actually, I would say Martin could use it, but he's way too big." He hums. "Follow me."

They walk for only 20 minutes till they reach Tim's flat. He luckily kept his keys on him and opened his door. It took a lot of coaxing from Jon to get Martin inside he seemed to like him the best. Now, after that hassle, everyone git cleaned, and Tim made a small dinner for everyone and gave Martin some ground beef.

Martin was curled up in the corner watching everyone.

Sasha broke the silence. "What if he doesn't turn back?"

"I can keep him here." Tim frowns. "But he should be back to normal, right? What if this was from that animal attack in his apartment complex?"

"It was a month ago, and it would line up with the full moon." Jon returns his gaze to Martin, who was staring at him. "I well if my knowledge on folktales is correct then when the sun breaks he should be back to normal. However, it's quite iffy on if he would remember any of this."

"I mean, at least it's not like twilight." Sasha tries to joke, but all of them were tired and had different looks of work on their features.

"We should head to bed." Tim shifts. "Jon, you can have the couch. Sasha, are you cool sharing my bed?"

Sasha nods. "Jon, scream if something happens."

Jon nods, accepting the blanket, and lays down on the soft couch. He watches Martin get up and walk close to him and lays down next to the couch, making it impossible for Jon to get up without alerting the wolf. "Right. Good night Martin."

........

Martin groans and stretches. He blinks, rubbing his eyes as sunlight spills into his vision. He cracks his back and sighs. He looks around. When did he end up inside? He doesn't recognize this place, and the last thing he could recall was that they were in the tunnels, and they found a body. Oh God, did he kill them? Wait, wait... there wasn't clothing in his teeth, and he didn't feel like he had to cough something like normal when he did eat something he wasn't supposed to. He brushed himself off of the nonexistent dirt. He was naked as normal after a full moon, but he didn't have any spare clothes this time, and he really didn't know where he was.

Jon swallows, staring at Martin. He knows for a fact the man hasn't seen him. He had no idea Martin was muscular, let alone like that. He wasn't normally the type to stare or even enjoy someone's naked form, but something felt different. He cleared his throat, grabbing Martin's attention as he sat up and held out the blanket.

Martin blinks. "OH BLOODY FUCKING HELL!" He shouts ripping the blanket from Jon then covers himself then his face dying from embarrassment.

The sound of heavy footsteps of someone running then a soft gasp. "Martin?" It was Sasha. "Martin, you're back to normal."

Tim rushed behind her. "Martin buddy, you're ok!"

Martin groans and hides under the blanket.

.......

A pair of sweatpants was the best Tim could do for Martin since Martin was the biggest out of all of them. "Are you ok?"

Martin sighs. "I mean, I'm fine. Thank you for the pants, though." He frowns as all eyes were on him. "I uh to make things clear I've been like this since I was a teenager."

"It wasn't the animal attack at your flat?" Jon raised his brow.

Martin shook his head. "I may have lied about who was the animal in the attack, and in my defense, Jane Prentiss was trapping me in my apartment with her worms. I warned her, and she laughed at me. I'm normally better at keeping track of this, but I mean things happened. I was puking up these silver worms for like a week, I mean, they were dead, but they made me sick. I also accidently ate my phone because I was picking that out of my teeth. I mean, I don't really remember anything that happens during the whole wolf out thing. I get flashes sometimes and maybe dreams, but that's about it. I think... no, I definitely killed her, but in my defense, she trapped me in my apartment for a week, used my phone, and tried to fill me with worms."

"That wasn't a stomach virus, but you looked so..." Tim trails off.

"It's a side effect if I don't eat properly. Do you have any idea how painful it is to turn, let alone how much calories you burn in the process? It's a lot. I mean, I've been dealing with this for a long time, and I don't tend to tell people because they look at me like I'm crazy or think I'm a furry." Martin throws his hands up. "I'm so sorry for whatever I did, I tried to get out of going into the tunnels because the full moon, but you guys dragged me along, and it was too late, and I uh... wait, how did we get out? Also, who was the dead body?"

"We rode you like a horse." Sasha chuckles. "And uh, right, the dead body. To be fair, you did turn into a giant wolf."

"I uh good, I'm glad I helped." Msrtin looks down. "Please, I uh, please don't tell anyone."

"For a price." Tim smiles.

Martin shrinks back. "A price?"

"Yeah, you have to let at least one of us watch you." Tim smiles wider. "Just to keep you out of trouble."

"I would, but uh, I already have someone who helps me." Martin flinched as Sasha slams her hands on the able.

"Who!" Sasha shouts.

Jon thinned his lips as he felt something at the edges of his mind that he refused to acknowledge as jealousy. "It would be helpful to know who else knows." He tried his best to sound kind and not annoyed.

Martin rubs his arm. "An old friend of mine from high school kind of. Her name is Joan she's very kind and has a lot of land that's a forest she lets me roam in. She keeps to herself and doesn't like strangers."

"Oh well, you have to introduce us." Jon hums.

"That will be difficult she really is only up at night. I should probably tell her I'm ok...wait I left my phone on my desk." Martin groans.

Tim chuckles. "We'll be there regardless. You can pick it up then."

"You're right." Martin sighs. "I think I have spare clothes there."

"Why?" Sasha raised her brow.

"Uhhhh, so I prepared for the worst-case scenario wherever I work. I'm a little paranoid." Martin looks away.

"That's actually really good." Jon smiles. "It's good to be prepared."

Martin's face lights up.

#tma #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #the magnus archives

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hebuiltfive · 1 year

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The Alaskan Train Crash: International Rescue, We Have A Situation.

Six months after the return of Jeff Tracy and International Rescue has finally come back off their hiatus. One of their first missions with their dad back at the helm? A mysterious train wreck in remote Alaska.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Tags: Artist!Virgil, Post season three, slight AU, Mentions of hospitals, Mentions of Blood, description of train crash, Light Angst

Series: Part 1 of The Long Game

NOTES: This has been MONTHS in the making and, I won't lie, I'm a little nervous about finally putting this out in the world. This is only the first chapter of the first part of (what I'm now thinking will be) quite a large story. Disclaimers to say that I obviously do not own any of the characters in this story. They were created by the wonderful Gerry and Sylvia Anderson. The only things I do own are the ideas and situations they end up in. Trust me, they'll end up in some sticky situations in the near future!

Read it below or on AO3 here.

The Hood’s haphazard approach to his criminal scheming, coupled with a blatant disregard for any life that wasn’t his own, only ever led to one outcome — disaster.

The unfortunate beneficiaries of today’s outcome were currently trapped under the wreckage of the buckled front carriage of a derailed freight train. The scene was horrific to look at, even with all of Scott’s years of experience and training that came with being in the rescue business. The whole of the train looked as though it had been flung from the tracks, and had flipped onto its side, except for the back carriage, which had somehow managed to stay the right way up, and the front carriage, which had been capsized completely. In stark contrast to the crisp white snow underneath the wreck, there was a dark patch of leaking oil developing. As Scott hovered in the air over the derailed train, guiding his jet pack over the wreckage to get a sense of the scope, he knew he had to work fast.

There had been three workers on board. Whilst two of the three had seemingly been rendered unconscious by the incident, one was still very much awake and aware of her current predicament. She had made sure that the receiver of her distress call also knew this. John had forewarned his older brother of the severity of this woman’s pleas for assistance whilst Scott had flown Thunderbird One to the danger zone at top speed; the way the woman had begged Thunderbird Five for help had sent shivers down (a normally stoic) John’s spine. Still, despite the advanced warning, nothing could have quite prepared Scott for the look of pure terror on that woman’s face as he landed himself beside the wreck and jogged over to that capsized front carriage.

Two Hours Earlier.

Virgil had just wanted the lounge to himself so he could finally finish his oil painting in relative peace. It had already taken him far longer than he’d expected to get the painting complete. Usually that was due to rescue missions interrupting him and not his two younger brothers, as was the case today. Gordon and Alan had come bounding into the lounge, as loud and as energetic as always, and then began to play the loudest alien-killing game they could have possibly found. Virgil knew that his easel and pallet in front of him had not gone unnoticed by the Terrible Two, but the boys didn’t seem to care. Or, rather, they didn’t seem to realise the disturbance they’d caused. That was normally the case, anyway.

Virgil should have known that asking for any semblance of peace in the Tracy household was very rarely answered. The villa was always a hive of chaotic activity, even when those rescue missions called half of the family away. As Virgil was usually on call in those situations, he rarely managed to find a moment’s grace unless he was up into the late hours of the day. As it was, the sun had already begun to set over Tracy Island and sleep would soon be beckoning to all of them. He only had a few hours left to get some painting done before Scott had another reason to berate him for staying up late again. Thankfully, Tracy Island was large enough to not only house International Rescue’s operations, but also cater enough room for everyone who lived there.

He had not long retreated from the lounge, away from Alan and Gordon’s loud but seemingly futile efforts to defeat an invading alien race, to finish up his work in his art studio. He should have just stayed there this morning and not gone down to the lounge, but when that room was not occupied by bored, young adolescents, the lounge was just as serene as the quiet his studio offered. The views out onto the expanse of the Pacific inspired Virgil’s creative muse, and the colours seemed to flow so much better on his canvas when the warm, tropical breeze blew up through the open veranda. That being said, the picturesque scenery that now filled his peripheral was just as humbling.

His canvas, he’d carefully carried down from the lounge, had been placed on a new easel that stood in front of a large window. In the near distance Mateo stood, the rocks on the island glinting in the last rays of sun. Far more quieter than the disruption his brothers were currently causing upstairs. Content once more, Virgil started to mix the paints he needed on a new pallet.

He got all of two swipes of raw sienna onto the canvas when there was a gentle knock of knuckles against the wood of the art studio door.

“Virgil?” It was a voice that Virgil had thought he’d never hear again, up until a few months the back, that is. A voice that he was still trying to get used to hearing again after living so long without it.

Jeff Tracy had opened the door and was standing under the frame, his hands sitting idly in the pockets of his jeans. He looked over the artwork his second eldest was working on. To a stranger, or casual observer, they might have been deceived by the seemingly dark piece. With the shades Virgil had decided to use so far, that would have been an understandable mistake. But Jeff knew his sons, even after eight years of being separated from them, and he could see the hope that radiated through the painting. In the background, still only an outline and yet unfinished, he could make out the shape that he guessed would become Thunderbird Two. Jeff could see Virgil’s behemoth of a ship was to rise in the distance, to assist in the abstract disaster that was happening in the foreground. The smile that lit up his worn face gave Virgil a warm glow inside. “Looking good, son.”

In those first few weeks of Jeff Tracy’s return to earth after spending almost a decade lost in the outer reaches of the solar system, International Rescue had gone on an understandable hiatus. The Global Defence Force had offered to pick up the rescue work whilst the family became reacquainted and new routines were established. After all, just having their father sitting with them at their breakfast table in the morning again gave the boys enough of a shock. Despite the stresses and occasional disagreements that naturally came with the reshuffling and reorganising of the organisation, having their dad back was one of the greatest miracles to happen to the Tracy brothers, and they all thanked their lucky stars every day for having him home again.

“Do you have a moment?” Jeff asked, gesturing forward as a way of asking whether Virgil was okay with him stepping into his space.

By the look on his dad’s face, Virgil knew that ‘a moment’ was more than likely going to last longer than Jeff had suggested in his wording, but Virgil nodded all the same. As Jeff stepped inside and closed the door behind him, Virgil placed his pallet and paint brush on the side table beside his easel. He rubbed his paint splattered fingers on his equally paint splattered apron.

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

Virgil was used to being the one everyone came to for advice and assistance in the family. Along with Grandma Tracy, he was the soundboard that his brothers, and Kayo and Brains, relied on when they needed a solid voice of reason. Virgil never minded. He never saw any of them as a burden or a bother. Whenever they needed to seek comfort in Virgil’s warmth and way with words, Virgil was there for them.

“I wanted to just let you know that Grandma will be taking me to the mainland tomorrow.”

Virgil’s heart sank a little at Jeff’s words. He knew what his father’s words were code for, knew exactly where Grandma Tracy was taking him: the hospital. Jeff’s health had been fragile upon his return to Earth. Having had to survive eight years on a rock in the Oort Cloud, it came as no surprise to any of them. They were all wise to the fact that the situation would have been a detriment to anyone’s health, and they all were sure that, had Jeff been anyone else, he wouldn’t have lived through the ordeal for nearly as long as he miraculously had. Jeff’s health had been a major talking point in the reorganisation of International Rescue. The main question was whether he was fit enough to take back the mantel of Commander In Chief, or whether it was better for him to take a backseat and oversee operations from the sidelines instead. Both Grandma and Scott had been firm advocates in Jeff taking the back seat, but Jeff Tracy was Jeff Tracy and he wasn’t the kind of man who was content with being sidelined. In the end, they had all agreed on him sharing the job with his eldest son, at least until he was in a better condition.

Hence the hospital visits. Scans, blood work, physiotherapy, drugs and tests were part of their new normal, and they’d been advised that this new normal was going to stay in place for the foreseeable future. Jeff didn’t mind, so long as it meant he was still able to be of assistance, but the constant hospital trips had the boys naturally worrying.

“If dad is so unwell that he needs to be constantly visiting Doctor Mayhew every month, he shouldn’t be placed in a position that could cause him stress!” Scott had exclaimed on more than one occasion. Jeff never listened to him, always claimed that he was fine which only led to heated debates between the two. Usually it was Grandma who managed to calm them both down, but once or twice, the unfortunate role of mediator had landed on Virgil’s lap. Whilst he still didn’t see it as a burden, it was the only time he minded. It was the one time he didn’t like being a soundboard to his family.

“How long this time?” He asked his father, arms folding across his chest.

“A week. Maybe two. They want to check my legs, I think. It’s going to require a few tests back to back and they say that it’s easier if I just stay there whilst they get the results.”

Virgil nodded. It made sense for him to remain in one place. His next question was one he didn’t want the answer to. “Does Scott know?”

Jeff held silence for a moment or two, and Virgil knew the answer instantaneously. “No. He doesn’t. Not yet.”

Virgil pursed his lips, nodded once… twice, and then began to undo his paint apron. So much for a relaxing evening with his canvas. “He needs to know, dad.”

“He overthinks everything—”

“That’s Scott for you—”

“— and I don’t like how stressed out he gets. I don’t want to add to it, or be the cause of more stress.”

Welcome to the club, Virgil thought, but sighed as he threw the apron aside. Scott never knew how to take things easy. He was a classic overreacher, constantly trying to do more than his best. That perfectionism had only got worse in the months following their father’s disappearance, but that was a fact Jeff had still not been informed about. Their father had developed a legacy in people’s minds, one that only grew in his supposed death, and Scott felt compelled to continue that legacy. He had always looked up to Jeff, but this constant need to try and make their father proud, even in death, sometimes meant Scott took unnecessarily hazardous risks, and it had nearly landed him on death’s doorstep on more than one occasion. Virgil and the others had often tried to slow him down and make him see reason, but their talks rarely seemed to have a lasting impact. Come the next day, Scott would be back to his normal, overreaching self.

“Scott’s capable of handling a lot more than you think, dad.”

Jeff breathed out a long sigh. “I don’t want him to handle so much. He should share the burdens.”

“Good luck getting him to do that. We’ve been trying for years, but Scott is way too protective. It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t want you being so involved in the rescues right now, what with your… health.”

“I know he’s looking out for me,” Jeff began, his eyes averting Virgil’s own gaze as he took in the view of Mateo from the window. “I just wish he wouldn’t try so damned hard all the time.”

Virgil let out a deep chuckle. “You and me both, dad.” Then, he began to make for the door. “But he needs to know all the same. If you want, I can be your bodyguard.” He joked. In honesty, the thought of having to referee another match between his dad and Scott worried him, but he’d do it if it meant avoiding a bigger conflict in the future.

Jeff’s lips quirked into a smile at Virgil’s humour, but as he opened his mouth to speak, a hologram of John appeared from the holo-disc on the side table beside the easel. “Guys, we have a situation.”

Exchanging worried glances with his father, Virgil dove out of the door of his studio and made his way up to the lounge as fast as possible, Jeff following quickly behind him.

#IT'S FINALLY HERE #well chapter one is #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfic #thunderfam #thunderbirds are go #fic: the long game #trust me #it's going to be really long #jeff tracy #virgil tracy #five fics

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jinnify · 1 year

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mixtape: on track – chapter three. gasp! the cat man! 📝

synopsis. new girl yn had felt the need to stay under the radar ever since she arrived at yonsei uni. the last thing she needed at the start of a new semester was drama. that was until she met minho, and hyunjin had a problem with it.

you huffed as you stuffed your school laptop into your bag, visibly stressing about your audition later today. you couldn’t believe that you had left yunjin and felix talk you into this! you were so stressed you were surprised you hadn’t broken into hives.

you had already talked yourself down from a breakdown twice today, and it was only midday. you had stayed up for three consecutive nights to learn your script the most and best you could. you weren’t one to lie, so you can admit it; acting had always interested you, even before you knew what it was. you were grateful hyunjin had gotten you this opportunity, but the concept of having to audition for someone, scratch that, two people made you feel like jumping off the school roof.

you had about an hour to spare and were on your way to the drama club to run your lines a few more times before you go in for your audition. you read your lines over as you quickly walked down the stairs, accidentally slamming into someone as you turned the corner, “oof!” “oh, fuck!” you yelped, falling to the ground with your script falling all over the hall.

“shit! are you okay?” you heard a soothing voice ask you from above, half expecting hyunjin when you looked up. you were stunned to meet the sharp eyes of someone who you’d call the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. probably. well, this man and hyunjin. you gasped as he quickly moved to grab the papers that had flown the farthest. you scrambled to gather the papers around you, quickly picking them up and reaching for those farther. you felt yourself get hot as you grabbed the stranger’s hand, quickly retracting with a small shriek.

“i’m sorry-!” you looked up to apologize, watching as a slightly toothy smile come across his face. “no problem.. um?” he trailed off. “oh! i’m yn!” you silently noticed that he hadn’t retracted his hand from your paper, “then it’s no problem, yn. here you go.” you silently prayed you had maintained your regular skin color and weren’t instead the color of a tomato. “thank you. i’ll see you later!” you let out a farewell before you realized what you had even said.

to say you were flustered was an understatement. you hastily made your way to the drama club, trying to avoid any other embarrassing situations. “hey! yn!” you heard jeongin call out for you, you slowed down for him to catch up to you, turning in his direction, surprised to see hyunjin was with him.

hyunjin’s discomfort was more than obvious as they got closer to you. he slowly followed jeongin as the latter practically skipped over to you, “hurry up, hyunjin!” you were confused by their current dynamic. jeongin and hyunjin were often seen laughing and fucking around, you didn’t understand why hyunjin seemed so distant right now.

“hey, yn,” hyunjin’s voice was as soft as always. he had barely even looked up at you this time. you were somewhat glad if you were being honest. “hi, hyunjin! what’re you guys up to?”

“not much! we were just roaming, waiting for our next class.” you noticed jeongin’s eyes shift between you and hyunijn several times, “are you okay jeongin? you keep looking around?” “oh, yeah! i’m fine~ anyway! where are you going right now?”

“i’m actually on my way to the drama club! you guys wanna join me?” you looked over to hyunjin, “maybe you can help me with my lines-?” before you could finish your question, jeongin hooked his arm around hyunjin’s neck, uncomfortably hugging him, “of course, yn! hyunjin and i would love that! wouldn’t you hyunjin?”

you laughed at jeongin’s strange demeanor, “okay, you guys. just promise you’ll be normal.” the pair snickered at your comment, “we promise nothing!” you heard hyunjin’s voice from behind you.

you had arrived a few minutes later than you had expected and with a few more people than appreciated, but you made it! you had been running lines with jeongin for a few minutes before he announced he needed to ‘use the shitter.’ “seriously, jeongin? can you be normal for more than twenty minutes?” “fuck no! anyway, hyunjin, help out yn with her lines, you bitch!”

“you don’t have to do that hyunjin, don’t worry about it, i’ve been running these lines forever.”

“are you sure? i don’t mind helping out.”

“you could help me by distracting me,” you smiled at him, hoping he’d be able to take your mind off of your audition for just a moment. for the first time in two months, you had been at yonsei, you were finally getting to know hyunjin. you had learned that he was an only child with a dog named kkami, and that he had an affinity for art and photography outside of drama club. somewhere between pauses in your conversation, you heard the main door open. you once again met gazes with the sharp, cat-like eyes of the guy you had bumped into in the hallway.

with a small smile and a nod of the head, he walked into the room where you’d be having your interview. you felt your heart fall into your ass, no way the man you had slammed your body into was going to be interviewing you. of course, hyunjin noticed your change in demeanor and followed your line of view, his smile fading when he noticed who you had been staring at. before he could as you what was wrong, the interview room door swung open, “yn ln?”

oh, shit. “good luck, yn!” you heard hyunjin softly cheer you on from beside you. “thanks, jinnie,” you whispered back before getting up and biting the bullet.

“please make sure to keep an eye on the drama club's twitter account! we’ll update it to let everyone know who got the part!” mr. kang explained to you after you finished your read, letting you go back to your friends who were waiting for you in the main room, now accompanied by yunjin. “my baby! how did it go?” you all but fell into yunjin’s arms before letting out the longest sigh, “oh my god, i need a drink.”

m:ot. – ch. 003

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✉️ notes from nia

my god im SO sorry this chapter is so long i know that this is supposed to be a smau not a regular fic 😭 i would appreciate it if you guys would let me know if you mind longer written chapters often or not :3

taglist. open

@https-skzology

#≡📹- ꒰ m:ot ꒱#stray kids #stray kids smau #stray kids fluff #stray kids crack #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids minho #📁 stray kids: ot8 #also yes #i DID do that corny shit where they bump into each other to meet LMAO #i love cliches 🥴

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tea-blankets-andstars · 1 month

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Darksun au but its my girl

Barty being Vada- having a father that just doesnt do enough, being sorounded by death and acting chill but is actually really scared, wanting a normal childhood but for some reason something always goes wrong

James being Thomas J. - a only child with overprotective parents, always pushing the limits of what people say he can do, always a dreamer and excited for the future

so what im thinking is that they would be a little older then in My Girl -instead of 11 they would be 13 or 14

at first barty would find james weird but eventually they would become really good friends, with barty being kinda mean but thats just how he shows his love (like vada), they would tell eachother everything and they deffently did the blood brothers thing like in the movie

James starts crushing on barty but keeps his feelings hidden because this is one of the first friendships hes had. then one day barty kisses james- in the willow tree ofc- and they start this sort of cautious relationship, hidden kisses, shoulder brushes, ect. Even without "all that romantic stuff" they still were like two halfs of the same soul- or soulmates, whatever you wanna call it.

barty had a necklace with his moms ring on it which was really important to him - like Vada's moodring- but the chain broke when they were exploring the woods and he lashed out at james because it was James' idea to go into the woods. So even though they were fighting james still went into the woods to try and find the necklace because he knew how much it ment- and frankly he would do anything for barty.

Just as james finds the necklace hes not paying attention and walks straight into a bee hive -he was alergic to bees. he trys to run but there are too many bees and sadly he dies. (why do i do this to myself 😭)

cut to the funeral where barty sits on the stairs and watches as people say things about james, but only the james they knew and never the real one. Barty knew that james loved kiwis. Barty knew that james couldnt ride a bike but still said he could. Barty knew that james wanted to be an acrobat. Barty knew james.

tears flodded his eyes as he ran down the stairs and into the room where james' body lie. He saw James' face covered in tiny bee stings.

"funny joke, Jams" he whispered, "everyone belives you, you can get up know."

he knew that james was dead but he couldnt bring himself to belive it, why would james leave him?

A hand rested on bartys shoulder "Bartimus" it was Euphemia Potter, she was smiling but it was a sad smile, a i-know-you-loved-him-but-he-is- gone-now smile. For some reason, maybe grief, that made him angry, and he wanted to lash out, to scream.

But the anger didnt last long and instead he was filled with this horribe saddness that made him wonder if he was going to die right next to james.

"Wanna go tree climbing, Jams?" he sobbed, grabbing the cold skin of the other boy. He turned his face to Euphemia, "his face hurts! and where are his glasses? he cant see without his glasses!" He was grabbed by his father as he and kicked and screamed, "put his glasses on!" he wailed, "put on his glasses! He was gonna be an acrobat!"

anyways yeah i think thats it T•T

#why do i do this to myself #darksun #sunkiller #i love barty calling James ✨Jams #barty x james #james potter #barty crouch jr #marauders au #my girl au #marauders #marauders era

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daylightcommand3 · 4 months

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TMNT 2036

Partners In Slime

TMNT 2036 is my own incarnation of TMNT. I chose 2036 as the distance between 2036 and 2012 is roughly the same as the distance between 2012 and 1987.

Now we get to talk about TMNT's second most iconic villain. But first, we have to talk about a highly respected one.

Ch'rell

The history of Dimension X is long and complicated. So I shall just keep it to the basics for now.

Dimension X is a separate plane of existence concurrent to normal reality. It was originally a purple-pink void before the Utroms found it. After some experimentation, they discovered that the dimension could be used to quickly travel long distances (like the Nether World in Minecraft). Thus, intradimensional travel was invented, which allowed never before seen exploration and discovery. Soon, the tech needed for intradimensional travel spread across the cosmos. In response, the Utrom began building bases and cities in Dimension X, and therefore gained substantial control over all interdimensional travel, lest someone use it for nefarious deeds. Eventually, a species known as the Neutrinos approached the Utrom, asking for sanctuary within Dimension X. The Utrom agreed, and the two species monitored Dimension X in unity. Much later, the Triceratons (after their own civil wars over their own fast travel technology) sought to join the Utrom and Neutrinos. The two species agreed, letting the Triceratons in. Together, the three species formed the X-Triad. A governing body that ruled Dimension X and watched over all intra-dimensional travel. The three species ruled in tandem and equality.

But not all were happy with that. Ch’rell, an Utrominon General, believed that only the Utrom should have control over Dimension X. He planned to stage a violent coup, exp’ell the other two species, and then use Dimension X to take over the cosmos.

Fortunately, the war with the X-Triad resulted in Ch’rell losing. However, Ch’rell and (most of) his followers managed to escape. Wherever he is, he’s busy planning his revenge.

Unfortunately for him, there’s one loose end he neglected.

Krang

Recently, I've been playing a lot of TMNT: Shredder's Revenge (10/10. Buy the DLC). And it's made me realize we haven't had a truly singular Krang for quite a while (at least on screen. IDW had one). Rise had a group. 2012 had a hive mind. 2003 had Ch'rell. The Micheal Bay movies are kinda derivative. And the Injustice 2 Krang was just a cameo. So for my iteration, I'd like to try a singular Krang again:

Krang always had a passion for building weapons. However, since the Utroms were mainly a pacifist species, his craftsmanship was not appreciated. Especially since his weapons were often sadistic, unethical, and immoral. Krang instead received the respect he desired from Ch’rell.

Krang became the chief scientist and right-hand man to Ch’rell. After Ch'rell went into hiding, Krang was left out to dry. A wanted Utrom fugitive, Krang fled to earth with his pet Kraathatrogon (2012), Milli. Krang's new plan is to lie low until the heat dies down, and then take his revenge on Dimension X.

Of course, being stuck on a planet with such limited technology makes things difficult. Not to mention that Krang needed a cover to avoid any suspicion and investigation.

Currently, he runs the Technodrome, the coolest arcade in NYC, as Craig. Craig bears a resemblance to his 1987 appearance. Bald head, red slides, red cargo shorts, yellow-button up. Krang's true form is a robot body housing him in its stomach with a protective pane of purple glass.

The Technodrome used to be a vehicle. Krang converted into a building once on earth. It still has its iconic eye and cannons sticking out of it though. The Technodrome is loved for its realism and exclusive entertainments. All the arcade cabinets in the Technodrome are unique, as they're all old tracking systems and combat consoles converted, rearranged, and reprogrammed by Krang. Little kids can take a ride on Milli, with parents believing it's a robotic train. Robotic Unicycles (1987) man the prize desk, with some of the prizes being the usual plushes and novelty toys. While some of the higher-end prizes are old weapons that Krang THINKS don't work anymore. For birthday parties, kids can expect a special appearance by Krang the Courageous: an inter-dimensional hero. For this "costume", Krang simply deactivates his Craig hologram disguise. The adults think that Craig merely puts on a robot costume, with a purple TV screen displaying a pink blob on his stomach. For laser tag, Krang converted some old blasters to harmless laser guns. Last and certainly least is concessions, no arcade would be complete without pizza. Unfortunately, the Technodrome’s pizza is disgusting. The only people who have ever liked it were 4 peculiar teenage boys.

Krang is able to power the Technodrome through the ooze milked from Milli. This ooze is a vital power source of Dimension X. Krang uses it to power all of his gadgets and technology, even his suit. And it tastes good too. At least to Utroms. When a creature from earth comes in contact with ooze, it results in rapid DNA degeneration, followed by rapid DNA regeneration. However, the regeneration is not equal. If one has some other kind of DNA on them, then their original DNA will intertwine with the other DNA. Resulting in mutants.

In the beginning, Krang's relation to the turtles is interesting. Once he finds out they are mutants, he's not sure what to do with them. The existence of mutants in the area is proof that Milli (and therefore Krang) are in the area. If the X-Triad Agents hunting him discover the turtles, they could discover him and arrest him. For now, Krang actively helps the turtles hide and blend in. But, he’s already making plans for when that isn’t viable anymore.

I don’t want to get too into specifics now, but I’ll briefly mention some important plotlines.

Krang will confront Ch’rell.

Krang will team up with Saki, and they’ll bicker akin to the 1987 incarnation.

And the biggest plotline is that pretty much every major character will get a job at the Technodrome at some point. This so far includes Leo, Raph, Donnie, Mikey, April, Casey, Splinter, Karai, Saki, and even Bishop. This is all done to reveal that not only is Krang an evil genius with a thirst for revenge, but he’s also kinda a shitty boss.

#tmnt #tmnt 2036 #tmnt krang #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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vampy-bats · 10 months

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Oh my gods, I colored and shaded something? What a surprise, it’s my DMC OC! I finished this while avoiding my missing schoolwork, so enjoy the fruits of my bad decisions

*Vergil and Rhiannon hate each other. I, the artist, do not hate Vergil and I think he’s neat. Vergil calls Rhi a wench, and Rhi calls Vergil Roi des Cons.

⬇️ backstory below if you care⬇️

First off, I headcanon that empusas work like real life ants. They have castes and an underground/Hell hive and are carnivorous.

Second, Rhiannon’s powers lie in blood-bending. She mostly used her own blood to grow blades from her skin, but she’s able to control any blood. She manipulates the life force within the blood rather than any physical substance. Rhiannon also stores blood she consumes in her skin like red and “worker” empusas do.

Third, I’m using the games as a time reference. The games still happen as canon here.

TLDR for the full backstory-

Rhiannon Valond is half empusa queen, half human. Dante ruins her family’s livelihood but it’s fine bc she found her bio dad in the process. Rhi searches for work for long enough that she moves to England. She did not anticipate encountering the man who almost killed her nor did she plan on falling in love with him.

————————

This is a long one and I’m not super confident in my writing, so bear with me.

Rhiannon came into existence when a French bio-demonologist decided to fuck around and find out. Dr. Blanchard (the scientist in question) doused himself in empusa drone pheromones and walked right into a hive with the intent to map it. He did not account for the fact that it was darker than a void in the hive, nor did he know the effects the pheromones would have. He was eventually rescued by devil hunters with little to no memory of the excursion.

A few years later, the empusa hive was revisited by devil hunters. This time, they had stumbled upon a human girl around 2 years old. She seemed completely normal except for a bright red forelock. The girl was named Rhiannon at the orphanage.

When Rhiannon was 13, demonic powers began to manifest in her. Her powers were left unchecked long enough to nearly kill someone before devil hunters were called again. Only one hunter answered the call: a man named Andre Valond.

Andre carried the belief that devils cannot cry, and that any being that cries has enough humanity to be saved. When Andre arrived at the foster home Rhiannon was in, she broke down into tears. Andre spared her life and took her under his wing. It wasn’t long before Rhiannon was officially adopted into the Valond family, finally gaining parents and three younger brothers.

The Valond family was sustained on the constant income from fending off the empusa hive. The French military caught wind of a certain legendary devil hunter from England. A letter lands on the desk of Devil May Cry. (c. DMC3)

Demonic steel clashes with blood-forged iron. Neither fighter can see the other with human eyes. Dante only can defend himself by his 6th sense. Whatever is attacking him is unlike anything he has ever fought before, but he knows he’s equally matched.

Dante catches an opening, pinning his attacker to the ground with his sword. It’s only then that Rhiannon de-triggers. Queue a dramatic speech that I shall not transcribe.

With her main source of income gone after Dante’s little Paris vacation, Rhiannon is forced to look elsewhere for work. She finds a position at an academic institution for controlling “test subjects”. Several assistants point out Rhiannon’s striking resemblance to their lead researcher. She doesn’t get to meet the man until someone finds out about what she can do.

Rhiannon receives special attention from Dr. Blanchard for being a devil hybrid, even becoming a test subject herself. He conducts several DNA tests to find out what kind of devil she could possibly be. Blanchard runs Rhiannon’s genetic markers through his data bank, completely forgetting his own was recorded for a previous project. The best possible matches for Rhiannon’s DNA is an Empusa Queen and Dr. Blanchard himself.

With no real way to prove it, Dr. Blanchard’s hypothesis becomes Rhiannon’s new truth. Her biological father is this man of science and her biological mother is a giant ant demon. How this combination occurred, no one would ever know. Rhiannon decided to keep the Valond family name, as she still considers Andre to be her dad.

Nothing lasts forever, and Blanchard’s team is forced to focus on new projects. Rhiannon loses her job a-fucking-gain and starts searching for hunting gigs. Rumors lead the now 27 year old woman to a tiny city in England. (c. 2007 anime)

Rhiannon finds her way to Bobby’s Cellar, where a certain white-haired man whistles from the bar. The blonde girl he’s with smacks him upside the head, earning a laugh from Rhiannon.

Dante and Rhiannon get on like oil and water at first. Rhi hates the way Dante never seems to take anything seriously. She despises the way he keeps so many damn secrets. And of course, all Dante can do is flirt and joke. Dante continuously tries to steer Rhi away from devil hunting, oblivious to the fact she’s done it her whole life. Things change the moment Dante first witnesses Rhiannon’s Devil Trigger in battle.

Fast forward a good 10 years (c. DMC 4), and Dante and Rhiannon had eloped. Neither had enough friends and family to have a large wedding, and they kept it on the down low. Somewhere in this time skip, Rhiannon lost her left leg above the knee, forcing her into retirement. They also have two kids, Leona and Percival (ages 3 years and 7 months respectively by the events of DMC 4).

After DMC 5, Rhiannon takes over Devil May Cry. Nico makes a fully functional brass leg for Rhi. The new prosthetic allows her to go back into devil-hunting again, although she’s rusty from so many years of retirement. (The brass leg is a reference to the mythological empusas).

#dmc oc #devil may cry #shameless self insert

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ghostussy · 2 years

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Copia X GN Reader with Chronic Hives

. . .

Totally not projecting my own health issues onto the reader. Anyway

A little bit of comfort.

. . .

TW: Hives/Allergic reaction mention

Quietly, you crept into the bedroom that you shared with Copia. It was dark, and you were unsure if he was asleep in the bed or if he was still working in his office down the hall.

You made your way to the bed and noticed that it was empty. With a sigh of relief, you turned on a lamp and began to rip off your uniform quickly and carelessly. The woolen outfit was suffocating your skin, which was already covered in red, itchy splotches. The reaction had begun several hours ago, but it wasn't like you could simply stop working every time it happened. It happened far too often to do so.

Picking out a pair of basketball shorts and a thin t-shirt, you practically ran into the adjoining bathroom. There, you started the shower on the coldest setting you could bear. You hopped in quickly, feeling the icy water cascade over your irritated skin. Though it soothed the pain and itching, you were still overwhelmingly uncomfortable. The hives seemed to be everywhere, covering every inch of your skin. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but any that succeeded were quickly wiped away. After all, this was a normal occurrence, and you couldn't afford to give it any more of your energy.

Reactions like these didn't happen every day. After all, you took medication to prevent it from happening. It was caused by an excess of thyroid antibodies in your blood, indicating autoimmune ailments that weren't fully developed. As a result, many of your doctors turned you away, telling you to simply "wait it out." And you had, for many years. You were getting tired of the waiting.

You heard the bedroom door open and close. You decided to wait in the shower for a few more moments, allowing the water to soothe your still-inflamed skin.

Knock, knock. "Mia Bella? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah- one second," you called back, "I'll be right out." You reluctantly turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing a nearby towel from the rack to dry yourself. You dressed quickly and exited the bathroom.

Copia sat on the edge of your bed, dressed in his red sweatpants and a t-shirt. He smiled when he saw you. "Ah- look at you, you are beautiful." He stood and walked over to you, running his hand up your back.

You pulled away in an attempt to get the feeling of his hand off of your skin. The man was like a furnace- wonderful for cuddling, but not for hives.

A look of hurt flashed in his eyes. "Tesoro, whatever is the matter?"

"I'm sorry, Copia, I don't mean anything by it. I'm terribly broke out tonight."

"Oh dear. How badly?" To this, you lifted the back of your shirt up to reveal several patches of angry, red hives. "Oh, mia bella... have you taken anything?"

"No, I just got in. And it's so early, I don't want to fall asleep yet."

"You certainly can't partake in many activities like this."

The tears you wiped away in the shower returned, more adamant than ever. You wiped them away, hoping he wouldn't notice. He did.

"I'm sorry, Copia. It's just, I wanted to have a nice night with you. But these hives are so..."

"Overstimulating, si? How about this; we get you your medication, the emergency one. Then we lie down on the bed and watch a movie together. Sounds relaxing, yes?" His voice was low, gentle. You wrapped your arms around his neck, the soft smell of his cologne providing a small comfort.

"Okay?" He asked.

"Okay." You agreed.

You released him from your grasp and he walked over to the counter where a bottle of your medication sat. "Two, or three?"

"Three, please."

"Oke doke." He walked over and handed the pills to you, which you took with a drink of water you had on your bedside. After this, he came to his side of the bed and climbed under the covers. He lied propped against the pillows while you lay on his chest. You could hear his heart beat slow and rhythmically, a very calming sound. He picked up the TV remote and turned on a movie you both enjoyed.

For the first fourty-five minutes, you lay there peacefully. The movie was nice, and you could still listen to his heartbeat. It had begun to slow as he relaxed, though he was still wide awake. You, on the other hand, could feel the medication beginning to take effect. The drowsiness was overwhelming. You had lost focus on the movie and were now trying to keep your eyes open. It didn't help that Copia was so warm, and comforting. He ran his hand in circles along your back now, and to his delight he discovered the hives had disappeared.

"Copia?" You mumbled sleepily.

"Si, Tesoro?"

"Stop it."

He chuckled. "Stop what? Trying to comfort my unwell love?"

"You're gonna make me fall asleep."

"That was my intention, yes."

"Mm. Wanna finish the movie."

"Okay, then finish the movie."

His hand continued doing circles on your back as you hummed. With a yawn, your eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

"Don't fall asleep now."

"Shut up."

His warmth seemed to bleed right through you. You could feel the drowsy feeling take over your being, and you allowed it to do so this time. The feeling of comfort and warmth was intoxicating. Here, in his arms, you were safe. You gave up on watching the movie, and focused on him. As you felt yourself beginning to drift off, you hear him whisper in your ear.

"Sleep well, little dove."

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sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee · 2 years

Note

Could I perhaps ask for a love letter from 2022 Eddie? Like he’s using the holiday to confess his feelings to a coworker/friend that he’s been to shy to confront about his feelings. I’d imagine the note having a bunch of things scratched out as he goes back and forth on what to say and stressing about even the smallest detail.

2022 Edward Nashton Love Letter x Coworker Reader

Last but not least, the final letter for the 2023 Valentine's Event! I didn't get a lot of requests, but I hope everyone who sent something in had a good time. I haven't gotten to do a lot for 2022 Riddler yet so I'm excited :) I decided to go prior to the Big Reveal of him as Riddler to a coworker.

TW: None

On your desk at work you find a small heart shaped card. Definitely vintage. There's a hive on the front with happy smiley faced bees. "Will you 'bee' mine, Valentine?" When you try to look for a name, you find a note taped to the back. When you unfold it, you see every once in a while words have been scratched out. Whoever it was, they must not have been able to find a pencil...

((Scratched out))

To (y/n),

I've been trying to find the right words to express myself. It's hard relating to anyone else here. Maybe I'm too different ((scratched out)) It doesn't matter. You care about people, you're kind and genuine. Not just trying to see what you can get from someone. If there was anyone I trust in this office, it's you.

((Scratched out)) I think that's why I feel this way. My mind feels a little clearer when you're around. Normally only numbers help me do that. People lie but numbers never do. I feel like you understand that the way I do. You have this way of crinkling your nose when you're thinking it's ((Scratched out)) endearing. You do it sometimes when you're crunching accounts.

There's something growing inside of me, like I'm someone new. Someone stronger. Or else maybe I wouldn't have the courage to write you like this. ((Scratched out)) I want to reach out. To you. I think you're wonderful. I think we could make a good pair.

If you're not interested, that's okay. I'll understand.

I hope either way, your Valentine's is good.

-Edward Nashton (three desks over)

#foxy valentines event #foxwriting #2022 riddler #edward nashton #First he tried pet names including angel but realized it came off way too creepy and familiar #and at the end worried you forgot who he was #he is trying SO HARD not to come off weird rn

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paperbodiesamongthestars · 1 year

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Ao3 First Lines

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3 (Sort by date posted). If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have!

Tagged by the wonderful @magniloquent-raven approximately one hundred years ago. Thanks for thinking of me, bb!

1. Witchcraft does not reward shitty intentions I (finally) finished this bad boy in February, only two full years after I posted it! LOL.

Steve handed him his movies and opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Then he closed it again.

"Spit it out, Bambi," Billy said. Steve stared at him for a minute, glancing around to make sure Billy was the only customer at Family Video.

"I just wanted you to know that it's not your fault," he finally said tentatively. Billy thought about all the things Steve could be referring to and decided he needed more specifics.

"What are you talking about?"

"The...thing. The attraction thing." Steve gestured between them. "It's not your fault."

2. The best-laid plans I wrote this one because I love the idea of Steve Harrington: Actual Disney Prince. Of course everyone wants to kiss him, and of course that ruins Vecna’s plans. Twice.

Henry Creel was in a good mood.

Sure, he was still hideously deformed and trapped in this barren hell dimension—thanks to one very ungrateful little girl—but things were looking up. The weird hive mind that had inhabited this world before Henry arrived had found a way through the gate into Hawkins proper, and Henry could observe and affect events through his link to the creature. He was feeling optimistic.

Things had not gone according to plan the first time he had tried this, and they hadn’t exactly worked out the time after that either. This time, though, Henry had a good feeling. He had made some changes, and he felt like they were going to pan out.

3. All the Christmases Yet to Come My holiday exchange fic! This one was very fun to write, even if it is a little angstier than my usual fare.

It dawned like any other December day in Hawkins, bitterly cold and gray, with clouds piling up ominously on the horizon. Fresh snow from an overnight storm sat untouched on lawns and sidewalks and roads. Frost glittered on windowpanes and the brave few who were out and about this early sent plumes of warm breath into the frigid air. Hawkins came slowly and gradually to life as the sun crept up past the horizon, people going about their business as though it was a perfectly normal Friday.

Billy Hargrove woke up in a foul mood, as usual. Thin, gray light filtered through his curtained window, and he found himself missing the sun almost as much as he missed the distant susurration of waves meeting the shore. Hawkins had always been intended as a punishment, and it was a very effective one. This fucking town had only disappointment to offer him, especially after—

Well. Billy was still insisting—even to himself—that he had been even more short-tempered than usual since November because the weather sucked, and not because he couldn’t seem to forget the sensation of Steve Harrington’s cheekbone giving way under his fists. It was getting harder to lie to himself, though. He had fractured a certain pretty boy’s face, and thus ruined any future opportunity to touch that face with gentle, reverent hands, the way he had wanted to since he first laid eyes on it in the school parking lot. Not that it would have been a possibility before that awful night, probably, but it definitely wasn’t after. Billy had broken something he cared about with his own hands; these days, it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

4. One Prize I’d Cheat to Win Listen, I know how long it has been since I updated this. I KNOW. But I swear to you that it is still an active WIP, and I am working on the upcoming chapters. Updates are coming!

“Talk to me, Max. Something feels off. This was too easy.”

“Everything’s fine, asshole. Stop being so paranoid.” Even through the earpiece, Billy could hear her irritated huff. “I told you, I did extensive research on this one. It's easy because we planned it that way.” Billy snagged a glass of champagne as a server with a tray passed him. He sipped it as he studied the dance floor below him. Couples in black tie swayed in circles to the music. The band was set up in a discreet corner, opposite the raised dais at the far end of the room. There was a podium on it. The auction was due to start in an hour, and Billy hadn’t seen his target yet.

“If everything's fine, then where is he?” he asked Max. “This is his party in his massive, ridiculous ballroom." Who the fuck had a house with a ballroom? "He should be schmoozing right now.”

“I don’t know, Billy. Aren’t rich people late all the time? Maybe he’s still getting ready.” Given what his hair had looked like in the photos Billy had studied, he could almost believe it. Still, Billy didn't like it. Something felt off. He opened his mouth to say that again, but two things happened at once. The double doors opposite the raised dais opened and Steve Harrington stepped through them. He was wearing a beautifully tailored dark blue tuxedo, and Billy’s mouth went a little dry. The photos really hadn’t done him justice. At the same time, someone leaned up against the railing right next to where Billy was tucked into the shadows, and he felt the unmistakable press of a gun muzzle against his ribs. He took a sharp breath and let it out slowly. God damn it, he had been right. This had been too easy because it was a fucking trap.

5. The One Word My first foray into the Captain America fandom! I’ve considered deleting this until I have more of it edited (life, ugghhhh), but I haven’t done it yet. I have so much more of it written, but editing is my nemesis.

Once upon a time, there lived two small boys. One was small and fair and fierce and the other tall and dark-haired and charming, and there are many, many stories about what happened to them over the months and years and decades of their lives.

In some stories, the boys grow up together. They laugh as they dart through grimy alleyways or cobblestoned courtyards or vast rooms where the sound of each footstep vanishes into deep, lush carpeting. They annoy each other and defend each other and vow, as children do, that they will be with each other forever.

In some stories, they keep that promise. They stand beside each other and take on every challenge with the warm, sure knowledge that there is nothing they have to face alone. In other stories, they are less fortunate. There are months and years and decades of dark and painful separation. And yet they find each other, again and again and again, on eerily silent streets and in deep forests, in coffee shops and dorm rooms, in subway cars and in quiet, too-empty apartments. They fall apart, and then they come back together.

In this story, they start out alone.

6. Almost Enough Ah yes, the post-S4 fic that I wrote before I watched S4. Truly, a simpler time.

It’s too quiet. Sure, there’s the soft beeping of whatever machines they have him hooked up to, and he can hear the murmur of quiet voices in the hall—even in this desolate stretch between midnight and morning, the hospital doesn’t truly sleep—but Billy was alone in the Upside Down for a long time. He craves light, and familiar voices, and the simple animal heat of other bodies close to his. Those things are not available, not here and now in the sterile hush of this hospital, but…well. Maybe he doesn’t have to be completely alone.

He carefully strips off the oxygen line and the sensors they plastered to him when he came in. There’s nothing specific wrong with him—nothing they’ve managed to identify, anyway—but his nurses all shoot each other looks and murmur about ‘sustained exposure’ and ‘delayed symptoms.’ He can’t bring himself to care. He’s alive and he’s not trapped in a terrifying mirror of Hawkins anymore and for right now, it’s enough. Almost. It’s almost enough.

He slips out of his room when the hall goes briefly still and silent. Steve’s room is three doors down on the right. The door is ajar, and Billy just stands there for a moment, staring.

Steve isn’t asleep. He’s sitting up against the headboard, knees pulled to his chest, staring blankly in the direction of the window. Billy can see a slight tremor in his hands where they’re wrapped around his knees.

7. the road not taken looks real good now I think this is still my most popular fic? I dug it out of my drafts and gave myself a public deadline, and finished it in like five days. There’s a lesson there somewhere.

Billy isn’t surprised when it’s Robin who opens Steve’s front door. He’s a little late, so Steve is almost surely in the midst of making dinner. He issurprised when she steps out onto the porch and closes the front door behind her. Billy blinks at her. She isn’t wearing a coat, and it’s freezing.

“Todd is here,” she says, voice pitched low. Billy stares at her blankly for a moment before the sentence sinks in.

“Steve brought his boyfriend back to Hawkins for the holidays?” he asks, tone surprisingly even. It isn’t the first time Steve has dated someone since he left for college, obviously, but it is the first time he’s brought anyone home. Billy tries to fight off the surge of disappointment that he will not, apparently, be spending the bulk of this vacation in Steve’s bed, the way he always does when they’re home at the same time. They’ve been hooking up whenever they see each other for the past three years, since the first time Steve came back to Hawkins from college for a visit. Robin nods, her expression bleak.

8. Six Gifts My other holiday exchange fic! Holiday fluff is my JAM.

It started with a cigarette.

Well. If Billy was being honest with himself, which he was trying to do a little more consistently lately, it started long before that. It started the first goddamn day, before any of the rest of it happened, with a single glimpse of big dark eyes and pale skin across a parking lot. But it didn’t go well, that first time, and Billy figured that once he’d died, he probably got to start over with a clean slate.

So it started with a cigarette.

Billy was standing in a shadowed corner of the porch at the Byers’ big new house, smoking a cigarette and half listening to the sounds of laughter and Christmas music from inside. He appreciated Max’s continuing efforts to include him in the larger group, but he didn’t really belong inside with them. Maybe he wasn’t the monster anymore, but he wasn’t one of the good guys either. It was fine. He could linger around the edges, helping out Max and doing his best to stay out of the way.

Suddenly he heard the creak of the porch door opening and a slam as it closed again. Then he heard light footsteps headed for the same darkened corner Billy had chosen. He knew exactly who it was—he had been paying attention to that specific tread for a long time. The steps stopped abruptly as they reached the corner of the house. There was a brief silence. Billy kept his eyes fixed on the line of trees visible across the side yard, fully expecting to hear those same footsteps moving away from him. Instead, he heard a quiet little sigh.

“I hear those’ll kill you,” Steve said softly as he walked up to stand next to Billy at the railing. He gestured at the cigarette in Billy’s hand. Billy stared at him and then snorted.

“Too late,” he said drily.

9. you should come with a warning label This one is a bit of a tease. I have a part 2 mostly drafted, but editing, boooooo.

Billy heard the door to Steve's room swing open, hard enough to slam against the wall. He glanced up to where his own door was open just a crack. He couldn't see Steve, but he could see the girl he had brought home. She was pretty. Tall, blonde, athletic. A little drunk and a lot angry, apparently.

"Come on, it's not like I lied about it," Steve pleaded. She whirled on him, pointing a finger.

"You should come with a fucking warning label," she hissed at him.

"Hey," Steve said, sounding offended, but she had already turned and was stomping toward the front door. It slammed behind her. Steve made a frustrated noise and Billy heard the door to his room slam shut, and then silence.

Fifteen minutes later, Billy was sitting at the kitchen table when Steve emerged from his room. This wasn't an accident; Steve always got snacky when he was drinking, especially if he wasn't getting laid. He was still wearing his date outfit and a scowl. Billy took a moment to admire the way his ass looked in his date jeans when he leaned into the fridge, and waited until Steve was sniffing a box of leftovers before he spoke.

10. A few lines at a time The postcard fic! I wrote it for the 2021 Big Bang. It started as a very different story, but I’m so happy with where it went instead.

“Billy is alive!”

Max burst into a Friday night D&D session in March and dropped that bomb, and Steve promptly dropped the glass he was filling at the sink. He took a few long moments to stare at the new crack in the glass before it occurred to him to turn off the water. He spent another minute slowing his breathing to something more manageable before he turned back to face the group eating snacks at his kitchen table. No one appeared to have noticed his reaction; their attention was firmly on Max.

Steve caught up to the conversation just as Max announced that she had, in fact, just gotten off the phone with her less-dead-than-previously-assumed step-brother. She was met with skepticism, even though they had all already lived through the miracle of Hopper reappearing, too thin and bearded and even more pissed off than usual, and telling an insane story about a Russian prison camp and the Upside Down. But this was different. After all, Joyce had told them all that Hopper was dead, and they had believed her, but they had all watched Billy die, and they could trust their own eyes.

Except that they clearly couldn’t, because Billy was alive and generally fine, living in California and calling his sister to tell her that he survived--surprise! --and was recovering in some lab.

This was so fun! I haven’t looked at some of these in a while. I’ll tag @passivenovember and @thatharringrovehoe, only if you feel like it.

#paper writes #My writing #harringrove #stucky

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pink-bird-30 · 2 years

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Titans 4x03

SPOILERS AHEAD

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

(Might be pointless at this point since most people have already watched 4x03)

Sorry this is a little late, I've been busy with Grad school work and my job lately.

Let's dive in!

-I'm glad we picked up where we left off in episode 4x02. 4x02 left us on a big cliffhanger of Raven losing her powers. Her hair turning white and her gem breaking is a huge deal. The more episodes we get into the more I see the parallel between Titans and Teen Titans season 4.

-This is more of a personal comment, but we've been here for 4 seasons and they can't get a more realistic wig for Raven? Gar's wig has a nice part that looks natural, and so does Kori's wigs. But for some reason Raven's still lacks for me. Don't get me wrong, it's perfect for Raven, but it needs to look a little more natural.

-Jay is finally getting his training!!! I'm really excited to see how he develops into his own hero and become Red Robin. I know some people are bothered by him (idk why, he's great) but I want to see him come into himself and how he will contribute to the team. He had a great impact last season with helping Donna to come back and reunite Hank with his brother. I can feel he will do great things and we have much more to see.

-Dick's development these three episodes is such a 180 from the man we've seen the last 3 season. It still irks me that it has only been about 2 weeks since they left Gotham, and he's already made such big changes and his developing feelings for Kori. To me, it seems rushed on some part, but the other part of me has to realize this has been building for 3 seasons. But I can't ignore that Dick from a month ago went off to face Jason without back-up. That is why I was glad Dick told Kori she was coming with him to meet up with Jinx. He wanted her there to help him and I think that is a big change for Dick.

"We're a team, we take this on together."

I feel like a proud mom.

-I love that Krypto is pretty much a ESA(Emotional Support Animal) for Connor cuz that kids really does need some emotional support. Between Kom last season and Lex literally being murdered in front of him...kid needs a big fat hug.

-I love that last season we had Gizmo and now we have Jinx. Are we entering a HIVE era?!?!?!?

-Jinx has always been an interesting character for me. The most I know of her comes from Teen Titans, and I won't lie, she's a pretty cool anti-hero/villain. I aways liked her powers and the badass person she is. But what I did not like about her on Titans is they made her another one of Dick's flings. I just don't understand the purpose of this. Why can't she just be a woman from Dick's past that he tried to help but she turned on him? Why bring up that they used to hook up at some point and she betrayed him? I think the only relevant part of their past that should be brought up is Jinx is deceiving and will betray you. That is enough to get the point across without whipping out Dick's long list of lovers.

Moving on before I rant too hard...

-Dick's reaction to Kori turning into stone was too precious. Immediately this man was ready to fight for this woman. He was overly concerned and adamant that Jinx turn her back to normal. But when she didn't Dick was ready to do anything to get her back to normal.

-It's a big deal that Raven lost her demonic powers, a huge deal if the Cult wanted her powers for the crystal. But Raven is so happy not to be an empath anymore. Like this poor little girl is calm and free of demons for the first time in her life. And I hate that she will experience this freedom, a brief taste of it, and then eventually she'll have her demonic gem back and she'll have these dark powers again. I'm unsure if they will have her experience her mother's magic and discover it or just keep her powerless until the red moon.

(Also, Raven taking a swing of maple syrup was fantastic.)

-I've been saying it since 4x01 but with Gar's visions from the "skin walkers" and them warning him of the Red Moon and the troubles they will face in the near future, MAJOR. THE. END. VIBES. Like there is no doubt in my mind that Trigon will be resurrected as well as Slade as his servant, because if I recall correctly from the promo, Slade was in it. In Teen Titans, Slade did Trigon's bidding and went after Raven, but it seems like Mother Mayhem is also part of this servitude as well. Now it makes me wonder what Sebastian has to do with all of this. Mother Mayhem speaks of him like he is her lost child, but who is he?

-I really liked the moment between Gar and Rachel. I like knowing that they have each other's backs when weird shit starts to happen.

-Random, but I need to say it. Why the hell was that dude barreling around 40 gallons of blood?! Is that even sanitary? Is that FDA approved?! I also feel for the guy, he was about to propose and he gets killed by a blood spider, a fucking blood spider. I already have arachnophobia but that increased my fear by tenfold.

-I love Dick having a long list of things he hates: Ninjas, and now Magic.

Okay, the big scene of the episode (in my opinion): Kori's vision.

-It was nice to know Kori wasn't completely unresponsive while in the state she was in. But her having visions again is interesting. In 4x01, Dick is listing off Kori's destinies and that is a big foreshadow for what is to come. So far her destines were: Kill Rachel, Save Tamaran, Kill a bunch of people, & Save Gotham (as per Dick Grayson). But during her vision Zadira, her old trainer from Tamaran, tells her there is so much more to come. And that her destiny is still evolving.

But

Dick is a huge part of that destiny and I want to know right now. We already have an idea of what Kori's destiny with Dick will be since Dick saw part of that destiny in the form of an adorable little Mar'i Grayson, but I need it now. I am deprived!!

But I also want to point out hat Kori will have a big part in the Red Moon. Will she be the reason is comes to be? Will she be the one to resolve the issues associated with the Red Moon? What will be her purpose and how will it lead to her destiny with Dick???

Let's bring it back.

-When the bullshit with Jinx is over, Dick straight up is done with her antics. I'm glad he extended an invitation for her to help them since they are so out of their element with magic (even if it was a bribe to get out of some debt). But it was a smart move to make, but I have a feeling it will backfire at some point with Jinx history of betrayal.

Now for that scene: "To lift the magic you have to kiss her."

-When I say my jaw dropped, it dropped. Dick seems to pause for awhile and I'm glad he didn't just straight up do it because A) that would be their first kiss outside of their relationship from season 1. B)Hellllooooo consent is key people!!! C) Part of him definitely did not believe Jinx, which I'm glad for the hesitation.

(I also want to point out that Brenton played Prince Phillip in Maleficent and you know the story of sleeping beauty. I thought it was a cute nod to his previous character, especially since he had to give up the role in the second movie to stay playing Dick Grayson for us.)

Once Kori is woken up from the spell, I love the fire and rage she has towards Jinx.

"I will fuck you up."

I got so hyped up after that.

Last mentions:

-I will mention the scenes with Sebastian-I'm curious to see what Mother Mayhem has in store for him. They really keep fucking with him and now that he's with the Titans, I'm expecting a big fight scene next week. Or maybe even a rematch between Mother Mayhem and Super Boy. That would be pretty cool to see.

Lastly,

"When the blood moon is full, the world will fall to evil."

The chills I experienced after that line.

We are really in it this season and I'm beyond excited.

Until next time! Hope you like my break down of the episode!

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go-to-the-mirror · 2 years

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MAG 160.11 - Season 5 Trailer

ARCHIVIST I'm sorry, Martin. (dry laugh, humourless) Things don't work like that anymore MARTIN Like what? ARCHIVIST Like normal. This isn't a world where you can trust- MARTIN Tea? ARCHIVIST Comfort.

A Non-Exhaustive List of Comfort That's a Lie

MAG 32 - Hive

You can’t help me. I don’t think so, at least. But whatever it is that calls to me, that wants me for its own, it hates you. It hates what you are and what you do. And if it hates you, then maybe you can help me. If I wanted to be helped. I don’t know if I do. You must understand, it sings so sweetly, and I need it, but I am afraid. It isn’t right and I need help.

Maybe it was her who was the maddened illusion the hides the sick squirming reality of what I am. Of what we all are, when you strip away the pretence that are there is more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home. That love us in their way.

Was that it? Was I swayed and drawn simply by the prospect of being genuinely loved? Not loved as you would understand it. A deeper, more primal love. A need as much as a feeling. Love that consumes you in all ways.

I do not know why the hive chose me, but it did. And I think that it always had. The song is loud and beautiful and I am so very afraid. There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. Perhaps it can soothe my itching soul.

MAG 150 - Cul-de-Sac

Just street after street of identical, blandly pleasant houses, all winding around each other in dead ends and cul-de-sacs and one-way streets, making sure every house has plenty of inoffensive garden. I’ve never seen people happily living in a place so obviously dead.

Two years we lived there : two years imprisoned in that beige, comfortable house with the man I loved, watching our relationship turn to sniping and snapping and bitter passive aggression. I’d say that cheating on him was a foolish act of past me, but honestly, it’s one of the few decisions I’ve ever made that I completely understand. I didn’t even try to hide it, not really, and when he found out and it all ended, I kind of hated myself for just how relieved I was that I’d finally be able to leave that place, to get in my car and drive away from that gentle suburban nightmare.

How many corpses lay waiting behind the placid façade of this endless false suburbia?

The Lonely is possibly the most insidious of the powers, I believe. Certainly, it is the one that most delights in having you do its work for it. Even the spiders seem to have a hard time matching it for sheer seductiveness. Time to yourself, self-care, putting yourself first, not being a burden on those you care about. It doesn’t even need to tell you any lies. It just waits for the lies you tell yourself.

MAG 159 - The Last

MARTIN This is where I should be. It feels right. ARCHIVIST Martin don’t say that. MARTIN Nothing hurts here. It’s just quiet. Even the fear is gentle here.

ARCHIVIST Listen, I know you think you want to be here. I know you think it’s safer, and… well maybe it is. But we need you. I need you. MARTIN No you don’t. Not really. Everyone’s alone but we all survive. ARCHIVIST I don’t just want to survive.

MAG 161 - Dwelling

MARTIN We seem safe enough in here, at least. ARCHIVIST I suppose so. MARTIN Bit of a hideaway? ARCHIVIST Or a prison.

MAG 162 - A Cosy Cabin

There is a place, deep in the heart of fear, where you trap yourself and claim that it is safety.

It was once a cabin and professes still to be such, but as with all in this new world that promises respite, it is a trap.

The screams may linger on the distant breeze, and your Eye may wander beyond the curtains from time to time, but you and the one you love are, it seems, safe. If you had need to eat, no doubt there would be food; if you had need to sleep, no doubt the beds would be welcoming. But you have need of neither, and so you sit in your meagre comfort and belief of security with nothing to do, nothing to distract your mind from the agonies that lie just beyond your window. And those diversions you do find will offer no relief, but simply numb the mind into mournful nostalgia for a time when the world you inhabited seemed to make sense.

Close your eyes. Ignore the sounds. You, at least, are safe.

Hold each other, it croons. Be happy. But know always that this happiness is a lie, built on the squirming bones of those whose suffering you have caused. It will not let you feel the warmth and joy that this love may claim to gift. It is only a mouldy treasure to be clung to. Something to fear the loss of as you hold it so tight that it withers and warps. It is a rotten sanctuary of lonely companionship.

Stay, the cabin says. [A clap of thunder] Stay within my false defences, cling so close to what you desperately wish to save, and live in shaking fear of the things beyond that may take it from you. Throw another log on the fire and curl up close. There are always more logs for the fire here. This is your home, and here you can be safe, as you putrefy, body and soul.

MAG 170 - Recollection

This… this chair— [Chair scraping back] —really isn't comfortable. I had a look round for better places to sit, did I tell you that? But it's, it's big house. My house, I think, heh, nowhere comfortable. So I suppose this is it. It is my house, isn't it? Must be. Must be. But I don't really remember.

So much of what's behind the fog hurts. So much of it just makes me wanna curl up with pain and embarrassment and— Maybe the fog's here because I want it here. Is that why I opened the windows? Maybe I asked the fog to come.

ARCHIVIST M-Martin, if you did. I-if you wanted to forget a-all of it, stay here and just, escape. I, I would understand. MARTIN …N-no. It's comforting here, leaving all those painful memories behind but, it's not a good comfort, it's, it’s it's the kind that makes you fade, makes you dim and distant.

MAG 181 - Ignorance

ARCHIVIST I’m sorry. It would have been nice to stay. MARTIN (Wistfully) Yeah. I’d almost forgotten what it was like, you know? A bit of peace. ARCHIVIST I mean, you could have— MARTIN No, don’t say it, Jon. You know I never would. I c-can’t just forget about all the people out here. Besides, I’d rather be trapped in a post-apocalyptic wasteland with you than spend one more moment in paradise with her.

MAG 186 - Quiet

MARTIN Hm. D’you have an umbrella? ALSO MARTIN No. But you don’t want one. We like the rain. MARTIN True. ALSO MARTIN Because it makes the sadness feel at home. It turns it from a burden into– MARTIN (Sigh) –an indulgence. ALSO MARTIN That’s right.

ALSO MARTIN Look, if you want to leave, you can. It’s not a problem. MARTIN You won’t try stop me? ALSO MARTIN I mean, it really doesn’t matter to me. You leave and I’m just you again. It’s all the same to me really. MARTIN So why do you want me to stay then? Hmm? ALSO MARTIN Because you want to stay. Because you want to have a real rest. To just breathe and… (sigh) be quietly sad I guess. [The rain gets a little heavier] (Long beat) MARTIN It’s not healthy. ALSO MARTIN Maybe not, but I’m not entirely sure what healthy options are even left at this point.

MARTIN There’s nothing wrong with comforting people. ALSO MARTIN A cup of tea isn’t a resolution. At best it’s a… a plaster. At worst… a muzzle.

The rain pricks his skin though there is no comfort in it. Because he knows he can never be warm and dry again. The wall is too high.

MAG 187 - Checking Out

HELEN Oh Jon! This existence can be wonderful, if you just let it. ARCHIVIST (Sadly) I know.

HELEN You are so difficult to like sometimes. I’ve been nothing but nice to you. ARCHIVIST Maybe that’s why I never trusted you.

ARCHIVIST No. You’re dangerous because for all the torture and cruelty, you still somehow got us to think you’re our friend. HELEN I am your friend. ARCHIVIST No. You’re not. That’s just what you distort. It’s why you spin but you never quite lie. The corridors, the warped body, it’s all just set dressing, isn’t it? It’s not the reality of what you actually are. HELEN And what, actually, am I? ARCHIVIST You’re a question. HELEN What lurks behind the door? ARCHIVIST To some. But that would be The Stranger or The Dark — no, you are the question of what lurks behind a smile? Is a friendship true, or is it reaching out with hands that cut you?

ARCHIVIST You worked to hurt us and help us, all with the same smile, until we can barely tell one from the other. Keeping us off-balance, constantly second-guessing our own opinions of you. Never quite crossing a line we could never forgive, but never putting yourself on the line either. And when one face finally stopped smiling, you just changed the face.

HELEN No. No! No! No, Archivist! Stop! Jon, it’s me, it’s Helen. It’s me. I’ve always been your friend. Don’t do this to me. I have always helped you. I have always helped you and lent you doors. Think of all that I have done for you. If you do this, everyone inside me is dead!

MAG 188 - Centre of Attention

MARTIN I guess. Seems a bit, I don’t know… a bit tame compared to some of the other stuff, though. ARCHIVIST I mean, not to be, uh… That isn’t exactly a surprise, is it? That The Lonely seems comfortable to you?

MARTIN So all that talk of wanting to be friends, she was just, what, lying? ARCHIVIST No… That was real. She did want to be friends. But she also wanted us suspicious, off-balance, uncomfortable. She wanted to be able to hurt us. MARTIN I mean… bit of a contradiction, surely? ARCHIVIST Is it? She wanted to be our friend, she just didn’t want to be a good friend.

#mag 160.11 #mag 32 #mag 150 #mag 159 #mag 161 #mag 162 #mag 170 #mag 186 #mag 187 #mag 188 #tma #just felt like compiling this a while back #i'll probably edit it and add more as i find more #but i'll include old versions and change logs in rbs #enjoy this tumblr #landscaping-your-mind-chapter-one

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