#people in ages are like 'my husband left to go work on the evil tower. I'm never going to see him again'

[onebizarrekai]

there's an entire temple dedicated to the maintenance of the seasons in holodrum and protecting the rod of seasons and its four spirits. meanwhile nayru is just keeping the harp of ages in her basement

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 26 - The Higher Realm

The Higher realm continues. So close to the end!

Master post linked here

Enjoy!

______________________________

Time passed, but it was difficult to tell how much. Time worked so differently in the different realms. How long did we really spend trying to save one lower realm? Minutes? Decades? It felt like no time and forever. Adonis and I traveled to lower realm after lower realm, fixing the stories, stabilizing the world before heading back to the higher realm.

Some lower realms were easy, if a bit annoying, such as the high school dramas. In those I would often play the “average” new girl at a school. I would meet new people, and was supposed to go on to have romance, betrayals and coming of age realizations. I quickly realized that befriending all my supposed romantic leads instead of dating them, reconciling with my rivals instead of humiliating them, and pushing towards success all together was a much more satisfying strategy. Fortunately, graduating valedictorian with a happy and psychologically healthy group of teenagers often stabilized worlds that had been torn apart by half-baked character design or infighting between rivals.

I took calculus so many times that I could recite lessons in my sleep, but at least the worlds were saved. Despite our success, however, Adonis was often frustrated. He had his own vision of how we were to save these realms. His plans almost always involved us dating, making the high school romance “successful”.

I refused.

He had been a lot more likable since our first meeting, and I was able to consider him a close friend and ally… but I felt uncomfortable at the idea of even pretending to have a romantic relationship. It was definitely a more difficult route to stabilize the world without a romance, but I chose it every time. Adonis pouted and complained, but couldn’t argue with success, and I was successful.

Some lower realms were more difficult. In particular, zombie apocalypse stories were my least favorites. The worlds often couldn’t be stabilized until a cure was found or humanity’s survival was assured. This meant that Adonis and I sometimes spent decades within these realms, working to build armies, or teams of scientists. There was hardly ever any running water, which meant showering was few and far between.

My unwashed self was made even filthier by my absolute failure at using anything with range. Bow and arrow, guns… anything that would keep me out of the gore, I couldn’t hit even the largest of monsters. Fortunately I picked up a sword with relative ease, which allowed me to fight… but this also meant I got covered in rotten blood and guts.

I hated zombie worlds the most.

Realm after realm. We worked constantly, spending very little time in between in the higher realms. Adonis would often try to use those moments to push his ideas regarding fate and the higher realm’s story, but as soon as I rejected him, which I did every time, he would simply scowl and pull us into the next lower realm to save.

It was getting old.

“How many lower realms are there?” I asked one evening as we recovered from our latest mission, rubbing my sore shoulder where I had taken a blow in the last sci-fi alien battle. The wounds disappeared with the realm traveling, but my mind still could feel the wound, projecting the pain long after I had left that form behind.

Adonis leaned back in his chair, his grin a little too bitter to be a natural expression. “How many unfinished stories are there? Infinite, Bel. There are infinite lower realms. We will never be able to save them all. Not like this.”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of options.”

“There are options. You just don’t want to hear them.”

“What, this fate you keep talking about?” I sighed, closing my eyes, tired. “ It sounds like a terrible idea.”

“It’s not.” His voice was quiet, but the intensity shown through all the same. “It’s our duty. Everyone’s survival depends on it.”

“But what you’re saying is: we follow along some sort of script…”

“Fate.”

“…fate… here, in the higher realm. And that is somehow supposed to fix the lower realms?”

He chuckled. “You’re oversimplifying it, but pretty much. We follow our fate, and the heroes of the lower realms will find their happiness tied to ours.”

“What if they don’t want that ending? What if they don’t want that happiness?”

“Of course they do! Everyone wants a happily ever after with their destined one.” He snapped. My eyes flickered open to study his enraged expression.

“I don’t.”

“You’re selfish!”

I shrugged. “Am I? If you’re right, we submit to fate here, everyone in the lower realms gets an automatic happy ending… but most of those worlds aren’t breaking because they don’t have a happy ending. They need a wider world, different ideas… and what about the side characters, even the villains… what about their happiness?”

“They don’t matter.”

“Why not?” I raised an eyebrow. “Just because they’re the villains?”

“They’re evil.” He stood up, trying to tower over me. An intimidation tactic, one that might have worked before we’d spent countless years fighting in life-or-death battles together.

“Have you met the heroes and heroines of some of these realms?” I laughed. “They’re not much better. I don’t think these roles are as clear as you would like them to be. And I don’t think you and I having a happy ending together, and forcing a simplistic ‘and they lived happily ever after’ on all the lower realms will actually fix them. In fact…” I stood up, and he stepped back slightly at the danger in my tone. “I bet we would break them all the more. Are you really so foolish as to think that saving a universe of worlds would be so simple?”

“…” Adonis was gritting his teeth, his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. But I didn’t back down. Didn’t step back. I knew he wouldn’t hit me. He wouldn’t dare step out of the role he imagined himself to be in. Wouldn’t dare cross a line that might ruin his chances at the happy ending he seemed to crave so desperately.

“…” The silence stretched on between us. We were at an impasse. He wanted to follow fate. He wanted clearly defined roles and rules to follow. And I?

I wanted freedom.

*** Soul transfer 11% complete. ***

It’s been forever since I last saw those words… I thought it had disappeared. For some reason, I felt a deep sense of relief at the glowing blue sentence. Something within me had frozen during these many trips to the lower realms, but finally it was growing again.

“The next world is waiting.” Adonis spoke up, his tone flat. I noticed an odd shifting of his gaze, a reluctance to meet my own, and felt a sense of unease.

I won’t like this next world. I cracked my knuckles and gave him a thumbs up. Well, no sense running from a challenge.

We left.

______________________________

I woke up in a luxurious canopy bed. Staring up at the fabric , I raised my arms and have a cheer.

“YES! NOT A ZOMBIE WORLD!”

On the downside, the setting appeared to be a more primitive era, medieval at best, which meant no running water, but at least I appeared to be noble or wealthy.

At least if I suffer, I’ll be clean while I do it!

“Princess?” A young woman dressed as a servant entered the room, seeming very confused. “Are you all right? I heard you yelling.”

I smiled brightly at her. “No worries. It was just a nightmare.”

She visibly relaxed. “Even so, you seem in a much better mood, if I may say so.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you haven’t broken a single thing this morning.” She, unfortunately did not seem to be kidding. “I’m so glad you’ve accepted your father’s decision.

I didn’t have my character’s memories yet. I needed to accept the mission first. In the meantime, acting too out of character could destabilize an already poorly functional world.

“I’m still… thinking it over.” I spoke up cautiously.

“It’s not so bad, your highness.” She smiled at me. “Most young girls feel a little uneasy when their father arranges their husband. But you’ll be happy. I just know it.”

Arranged marriage?

“After all, Prince Harold is reported to be a true gentleman, a might warrior, and a handsome young man!” She sighed dreamily. “Any woman would be thrilled for a chance to be his bride.”

“I’m. Sure.” I spoke through gritted teeth, the satin sheets crumpling in my grip. Adonis, when I find you, I’m going to make you regret every life decision you’ve ever made… and the ones you’ve only considered making. What kind of lower realm did you land us in? As I plotted my revenge, the mission screen popped up.

**** NEW WORLD: A Divided Kingdom****

This is a romance fantasy story featuring a prince and a princess from different kingdoms, putting aside their differences to save the world.

“I already don’t like this.” I muttered.

The Princess Alaire of the Yenlar Kingdom was a clever, independent woman, horrified at the idea of an arranged marriage. Prince Harold of the Bestion Kingdom felt differently. He fell in love at first sight and vowed to woo the young maiden. The couple was different in almost every way, and seemed destined to bicker and fight.

“Then how about we don’t get married?”

But fate had other plans…

“Of course it did!”

A terrifying beast threatened to destroy both their kingdoms, and to survive, the political marriage had to go forward. Uniting the kingdoms, and therefore their armed forces, was the only way to save their people.

However, despite the happy ending, the first book was not well received by readers and the trilogy was abandoned due to poor sales. The reason given was that the romance was “forced” and unbelievable.

Your mission is to bring a satisfying end to the story, while making ensuring the survival of both kingdoms.

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

“Quick question.” I spoke quietly to the glowing words in front of me. “Do I have to marry the prince to ensure an ending?”

The kingdoms will not unite without the political marriage.

“That wasn’t what I asked. I asked if I HAVE to marry the prince. What if I can save both kingdoms without a political marriage?”

The stability of the world is all that matters.

“No lecture on the necessity of fate?”

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

I grinned. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

As the words faded away, I jumped out of bed. My head spun slightly as I accepted the memories from the poor princess of the original story.

She had not been happy.

She had dreams, ambitions. The Kingdom of Yenlar allowed for women to inherit the throne, and as the firstborn she was ready to take over from her father, to rule her nation. She had spent her entire life preparing. Studying law, economics, warfare…

And all of it had meant nothing in the end.

She had begged for a political treaty. One that did not involve marriage. The Kingdom of Bestion had refused to even discuss it. They stated that there was too much distrust between the kingdoms to move forward without some sort of permanent assurance. Even the threat of annihilation from the ancient beast of legend wasn’t enough to have them reconsider. That wasn’t the full story, though.

Later she discovered that Prince Harold had seen her at a party. He had supposedly fallen in love with her at first sight, and became determined to marry her. He had learned of her plans to marry a minor noble, one who would support her position on the throne without causing an imbalance of power within the nobility. He had no chance, as far as she was concerned. The threatened destruction of their people was just the perfect opportunity to force the matter.

She had lost all power. Becoming a figurehead, a beautiful statue beside the true king, Harold. He ruled over both nations with an iron fist, treating her own people more harshly, much to the approval of his staff. She slowly became bitter and deranged, watching the destruction of the people and the nation she loved so dearly.

Beyond the end of the first book, when the realm’s story ended, she had attempted to poison him and failed. Harold had been disappointed, but felt that she still had use as a figurehead. They faked a stroke, and kept her mute and weak with poisons. A lovely doll. A perfect figurehead.

…is this a fantasy or a horror? Sheesh, no wonder the trilogy wasn’t going to sell. I shuddered, still standing awkwardly next to the beautiful bed that had belonged to a lovely young woman.

I will change this story. I spoke silently to the memories, feeling a sense of relief that didn’t belong to me as I did so.

First, let’s try to reason with Adonis. He and I had worked together in multiple realms, side by side. We were friends. We may not see eye to eye when it came to our approach towards fate and the lower realms, but he had never forced me to do something I didn’t want. He had always respected me and backed off when I said no, even if it made him unhappy.

Hopefully this time will be the same. I thought uneasily. Hopefully he will listen.

______________________________

“No.” His tone was gleeful, but his face was calm, towing with a silver goblet rather than meeting my gaze.

“Are you joking?” I leaned forward, keeping a gentle smile on my face to fool the guards and our fathers who sat on the other end of the enormous dining table.

“I’m perfectly serious, Princess Alaire. Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to work together. We can only work together if we trust each other. The only way the Kingdom of Bestion will trust the Kingdom of Yenlar is with a marriage alliance. It’s out of my hands.”

I reached forward and took the cup from his hands, forcing him to look at me. “Why are you forcing this, Adonis? You know it didn’t work out so well for the originals.”

“Careful Princess.” His eyes glanced over at the nearby guards. “You don’t want anything to destabilize the situation further, now do you? Better to act as a proper princess should.”

“Answer the question. This plan already failed. Why do you think it will work?”

“Simple.” He leaned forward and plucked the goblet back from my hands. “We’re different. You may not want to admit it, but we have spent lifetimes at each other’s side. Growing up, going to school, facing enemies, fighting together… we could make this work. It would be a wonderful ending.”

“You know what happened to Alaire after the first book.”

“I would never do that to you.”

“But you are.” I growled, wishing I could punch him. “You are trying to make me a beautiful figurehead, just like Harold did to Alaira.”

“We would rule side by side.”

“What use is that promise, if you are already ignoring my wishes and forcing me to do this in the first place?”

He shook his head. “You have to trust me. This is the only way we can defeat the monster, and stabilize this realm. We’ll save this world. Together.” He smiled. “It’s our fate.”

I threw a plate at him, forcing him to fling himself on the floor to avoid injury. Walking out, I ignored my father’s shouts of rage. Picking up a bag I had packed ahead of time, just in case, I changed into some light armor, grabbed a sword, and headed out into the forest.

If I couldn’t win by a political alliance, I was going to find another way to save the world.

I was going monster hunting.

I searched Princess Alaira’s memories of the legends and stories, going out in a northern direction towards the area known as Death Valley.

As I marched onward, my thoughts wandered over the time I had spent since I had woken up in the Higher Realm. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed with Adonis. He might truly think that he was saving the world by insisting on going through with the marriage, but his lack of willingness to even consider other options was frustrating. He was the only person consistently by my side through every one of these worlds, someone I considered a friend, and being unable to rely on him served to make me feel all the lonelier.

My mind briefly touched on the assassin of the first realm, Liam. I had thought with his comments and actions that he had known about my mission… that he might be from the higher realm too. But no matter how much I looked for him, no matter how much I hoped to see him again, I never did.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was someone from the lower realm, and I’ll never have the chance to see him, to thank him.

I felt a sense of despair. How long can I keep doing this? Is this why Adonis preaches following our fate so much? Is he as tired of traveling, tired of the missions and the different lives? Is he just hoping to end all this?

I sighed, keeping moving. I’m not that tired, not tired enough to sacrifice my freedom. Not yet, anyways.

It took several days of traveling. Fortunately from my years of experience in zombie worlds, I was well prepared to survival in the wilderness. At least here the rivers were clean, allowing me to bathe occasionally. Finally I was at the entrance of the valley, staring up at the pillars on either side.

There were ominous words carved deeply into the stone.

Only death lies ahead.

I stared at the words silently for a few moments, and then shrugged.

“Still better than marrying Adonis.”

I moved forward.

______________________________

The valley was dark, a deep fog settled in permanently, apparently unaffected by the weather beyond its borders. Dark twisted purple trees rose all around me, their roots tearing through the earth desperate searching for nutrients. The valley was quiet, suffocating in an unsettling silence. My presence there felt like an intrusion, my instincts screaming at me to run away, to escape.

I kept moving.

There were no other signs of life. But I knew at least one other being lived here, the reason why nothing else dared to.

The Ancient beast.

There were no descriptions of it in the legends. Just that it was deadly, enough to take on entire armies. And that it was terrifying.

I feel like I should have seen something by now, if it was so large. I sighed, sitting on one of the trees, staring up at the mountain ahead of me. Shouldn’t it be easier to find an enormous beast that terrified an entire world?

…

Wait.

I looked up, struggling to see the top of the mountain in front of me.

I’m in a valley…

The mountain moved up and down, with regular motions.

There shouldn’t be a mountain here.

It was breathing.

I drew my sword, inwardly despairing. I had underestimated the sheer scale of the monster. I had thought it would be the size of a house, an elephant. Instead it towered stories above me, unimaginably large.

I was doomed.

There was a rumble as the beast in front of me shifted. I couldn’t tell the shape, just an impression of scales and spikes. Slowly, something lowered down in front of me, stretching forward in all directions, filling my vision. I saw teeth larger than my own body, the white of them contrasting with the dark fog around us. As I prepared myself for my death, an eye opened to stare at me.

It was a beautiful dark blue.

“…”

Suddenly, I felt relief. It was incomprehensible. I was standing in front of an ancient beast, enormous and terrifying, and instead of fear and dread… I felt safe.

I raised a hand, almost despite myself. “Hello there.”

The eye blinked. I comforted myself that it hadn’t eaten me yet.

“I think you look awesome. I’m Princess Alaira from the nearby kingdom of Yenlar. I actually came here to kill you, to protect my people… but now I realize that you could crush me like an ant, and that was a bad plan.”

The eye blinked twice. It seemed more confused than anything.

“I have a much better plan, if you would be willing to listen to me.” I let out a laugh, slightly startled at how… villainous it sounded.

*** Soul transfer 20% complete. ***

The creature let out a sound like thunder. I felt that it was laughing too.

______________________________

The wedding was this morning.

I was surprised as I drew near to see the party going. You would think that after I disappeared, they might have canceled or delayed it. I assumed that Adonis had felt sure that I would agree with him in the end. That I wouldn’t be able to let the world end just because I didn’t want to marry him.

Well too bad, buddy. This princess has a different plan in mind!

I could see him, standing on the elevated stage before two thrones, waiting. I couldn’t see his expression from this distance, but I imagine he was barely hiding his worry. Alaire’s father and Harold’s father were also waiting on the platform, their postures betraying their impatience.

“Let’s get this party started!” I yelled.

ROOOOOOOAAAAAAR!

The ancient beast let out a triumphant roar as he flew closer and lowered his head, letting me jump down onto the platform before landing behind me, a large, threatening mountain of a creature.

“Alaire?” The king called out, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Hello, Father.” I also nodded to Adonis, who stared back.

“What is this?”

“Your daughter is a witch!” The King of Bestion shouted, drawing his ceremonial sword. “She betrayed us!”

“Hold on, father.” Adonis held out his hand, stopping his attack. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

I grinned.

“Nope. It’s exactly what it looks like. I’ve teamed up with the Ancient being. We’re friends now.” I gestured at the monster high above us, who let out a grim chuckle, shaking the ground. “So now I make the rules, got it?”

“…”

“I’ll take everyone’s stunned silence as happy agreement! Now, first rule: Wedding canceled.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You can’t do this!”

The three other royals on stage shouted simultaneously. I simply pointed again at the enormous creature.

“I can do whatever I want. The big scary monster behind me says so. Next, the kingdom of Bestion will surrender to me, as will the kingdom of Yenlar.”

“You want to rule the world?” Adonis’s gaze was… disappointed. I grinned shamelessly. “Nope. But here’s the thing: Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to convince the monster not to kill us. The monster only trusts me. So I have to rule both kingdoms.” I shrugged. “It’s out of my hands.”

I threw his words from earlier back at him, and felt satisfied as he winced in recognition.

“We… surrender.” His words were quiet, defeated.

“You unruly child!” My father tried to shout, but a roar from the monster above us silenced him. He quickly surrendered too. I accepted both surrenders, quickly organizing the meetings to bring our governments together under one rule. Fortunately, the princess’s years of study served me well, guiding me smoothly through the process.

______________________________

I had one more confrontation with Adonis, the night before the coronation. He was escorted to my rooms by guards, saying he had a request. I hesitated briefly, but allowed him in, waving the guards behind the door so we could speak freely.

“What was that?” He shouted as soon as they had left.

I stayed sitting, forcing myself to be calm. “I fixed the story.”

“You ruined everything! Even if it stabilizes this world, it will ruin it in the long run.”

“Says you.”

“Trust me.” He threw up his hands as he paced back and forth. “Everything will go a lot smoother if you STOP CHANGING THE STORY.”

“I thought that was why we were here, though?” I sighed, leaning back in my chair and cleaning my nails with a blade. “To fix the lower realms, to save these worlds? That requires change, right?”

He paused in his movements, glaring at me. “Stop acting stupid. These worlds are broken because they didn’t follow the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

“I don’t want to though.” I shuddered. “No offense, but if the story is going to require us to have a romantic relationship, I’m finding an alternate solution.”

“That’s what the story requires, you have your role to play. You know the consequences of not playing the right part.”

I sighed. “No, there’s always different paths to take. You’re a good friend, and I’m glad to have you by my side, but that’s different than love.”

“…”

“You clearly don’t love me either, so why are you making such a fuss about this? As long as we complete what we came here to do, that’s all that matters, right?”

“…”

“Right?”

Adonis stepped closer to me, his atmosphere slightly threatening. “Why are you so different from what you are supposed to be?”

“What are you…?”

“Why can’t you just accept.”

His hand grabbed my wrist, the grip painful.

“your.”

He pulled me closer until our faces were inches apart. His bright blue eyes were blazing with anger as they stared into my own.

“fate.”

Letting me go, he walked away, putting some distance between us, before turning back to face me.

“This lower realm is stabilized. We should return.” His smile was cold. “The next mission is a little different from our previous ones. We’ll talk about it later.”

“…”

“And next time…?” He laughed, a bitter sound. “You’ll play your part whether you want to or not.”

THUD.

The blade in my hand threw through the air, stabbing into the wall inches from his face. I smiled cheerfully as he looked back at me, shocked.

“Try touching me again, and I’ll cut off something you’ll miss. We’ll discuss missions and roles again in the higher realm, but for now?” I rang a bell and guards came in, escorting him out. “I have a coronation to plan.”

______________________________

My coronation was held outside so that the Ancient beast could stand behind me. It seemed cheerful, letting out victorious roars and swaying from side to side. The people cheered as well, seeming a lot happier than I expected them to be. I guess they’re relieved that they won’t be eaten by the giant monster? I wondered idly how I was going to incorporate the creature into the day to day life of a monarch. For an odd reason I had very little doubt that the monster would stick around.

However, all my plans came to nothing. As the crown was placed on my head, bright blue words formed in the air in front of me:

100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

It was time to go.

At little sad, I looked up at the ancient monster above me. “Thank you, friend for your help. I wish I could stay with you longer.”

A mournful cry echoed through the world. It seemed to understand that I was leaving. Before I could say anything more to reassure it, the world around me shimmered and disappeared.

Only to reveal a furious Adonis standing in front of me.

“Happy now, Your Majesty?” He sneered.

“Oof, someone’s still a little angry that I used an ancient monster conquer the world. Believe it or not, I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you. But you know why I did what I did. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

I walked away, feeling his glare on my back long after I was out of sight.

______________________________

When I woke up, I realized that I couldn't move.

I panicked, struggling to move my arms and legs, only managing to turn my head slightly. Enough to see Adonis’s smug expression as he sat by my bed.

“It’s time for our story to progress, Bel.” His smile was strange, twisted. I couldn’t talk back, I shook my head slightly side to side.

“I’m the hero, you are the heroine. If the relationship between us can’t be advanced by working together, than it must be forged in adversity." He reached down and picked me up, carrying me out of the small cottage I had arranged for myself and into the castle courtyard. Whatever drug he had injected me with was slowly wearing off, and I struggled in his arms, finally able to shout.

“Put me down!”

To my surprise he did, and although I struggled to stay upright, I kept my balance and glared at him.

“What are you planning?”

He sighed quietly. “I’m tired of always being the one to compromise. It’s time for you to make a sacrifice, Bel. I’ve avoided this so far, worried that progressing our story this way would kill you, but it seems that it is our fate that we take this risk. It’s… unfortunate. I do very much hope you don’t die.” He paused, trying to smile at me. “Don’t worry. It’s only temporary. I’ll come and rescue you soon.”

“A sacrifice?” I felt cold, even as I stood in the warm afternoon sun. My thoughts were slow to form, possibly a side effect of the medication. “Why?”

He shrugged. “There’s an order to everything. Rules. Law. They are all that stand between us and pure chaos. No one can ignore them. Not you. Not even me.”

“Then sacrifice yourself, asshole! Why send me?”

He shrugged. “It’s your role to play, not mine. Your fate.”

“Screw fate! I don’t care if you say it’s temporary or not! Friends don’t sacrifice friends!” I was furious, still weak and feeling helpless.

His hand reached out and brushed my cheek, the touch freezing my skin. I wanted to move away but I could still barely move, only managing to glare at him. “Don’t look at me with those eyes. It’s not my fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame the story.”

“Ad…”

“Sorry, you must accept your fate.” I felt a pinch in my arm, the stick of a needle as he injected something into the muscle. Immediately darkness overwhelmed me.

“We all do.”

Everything faded into darkness.

______________________________

When I woke up, I was in a strange world, surrounded by forest. I lay on my back, still feeling weak, fury coursing through my veins.

Adonis and I had worked well together, despite arguing multiple times in the past. But now… any goodwill I had towards him was gone. He had betrayed me. Knocked me out and sent me to somewhere dangerous, somewhere I could be killed, just to follow his precious fate. To get the story he wanted.

“Are you lost?

I looked over at the source of the voice. It was a tall young man with dark hair, wearing grey, non-descript clothing. He kneeled down next to me, and I found myself staring into dark blue eyes.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I smiled despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

Liam? Could he be…?

“…Nice to meet you, Liam.” I laughed. “Or should I say: nice to see you again?”

*** Soul transfer 25% complete. ***

[howlingday]

nora the arc au) being in beacon two years early is one thing, it happens from time to time. but nora and jaune are officially not part of beacon but it's protectors lord and lady arc.

turns out nora's really good at being a queen of a castle. with her boundless energy and off the wall imagination she soon has the tower turning a profit due to her ideas on what she calls a food forest (nora: it's really simple jaune-jaune I made a forest that is 100% edible ... except the workers, don't eat the workers glynda might not let us borrow any more students if we do)

meanwhile jaune makes a simple rule known to the upper class of vale. you can insult him all you like, but say something about nora and he will end your entire noble house and laugh as your world crumbles around you.

... so things are going great for the new lord and lady protector of house arc (hope you have fun with evil jaune. letting the guy cut loose is always fun for me)

Meanwhile, in an Alternate Universe...

Jaune sat upon his throne, yawning as more bootlickers and doormats entered, seeking political support and favors, knowing full well his task was the protection of Beacon. Nothing more, nothing less. He eyed the crowd, noting their range from the very old to the very thin to the very lame. Each was a servant of another, sent to suck up for another's sake.

"Alright, people, you know the drill," Cardin Winchester shouted to the crowd, "line up in alphabetical order, and Lord Arc will see to your request." Jaune nodded for Cardin to step back. He didn't care for him at first, but after he proved himself a capable leader and a trustworthy ally, Jaune grew to respect the young man.

He almost pitied the rest of his team was assigned to his wife today.

The first was an elderly man speaking on behalf of some wealthy bank owner in Vale, asking for his support in funding their security. When Jaune asked where Beacon fit into this, the poor man didn't have an answer. Well, not an answer that satisfied him.

Next was a young man half his age. He was sent on behalf of his mother's bakery, asking for more time for the lady's Sunday order. When asked why, the boy responded his sister fell ill. When asked how the boy arrived, he replied he had to sneak onto the back of a carriage. He noticed one of the sycophants in the back grousing something along the lines of, 'I knew it!' Jaune waved the boy closer and hand handed the boy a small pouch of Lien. He then told him to find the Lady of the Tower, possibly in the Garden. The boy ran off, his face alight.

Jaune's smile lasted a whole ten seconds until the next servant came forward and opened his trap. Why did he have to conduct business after lunch?

The Garden was a vast forest tended to by the Lady of the Tower, Nora Arc. She was, in a manner of speaking, an eccentric woman. She suggested creating a hybrid of Forever Fall's sap trees crossed with Mistralian sweetbark trees.

After two months of research, the first row was planted, and the following summer, Forever Sweet sap was made into candies and used as ingredients in Vale's countless bakeries.

Nora smelled the spring flowers as she laid against her favorite tree. Russell, Dove, and Lark sat nearby, playing cards. Russell was winning, resulting in Dove and Lark to gang up on him. When Dove or Lark won, they were assumed to be cheating as well, and thus a new truce would be born of the betrayal. Nora didn't care, so long as she wasn't disturbed.

"Hey!" Lark called out. Nora opened an eye and saw a little boy running to her. Lark leveled his weapon. "Halt!"

"Put that thing down, Lunk!" Nora chided. "He's just a boy."

As Lark lowered his weapon with a blush, the boy stopped in front of Nora. "M'Lady," the boy squealed, "I 'ave ba' news fo' ya."

"Oh, why do the cute ones always bring bad news?"

"My sista' too' ill, an' we won' ma' thi' Sun'ay su'uh!"

"Hm, that is bad news." Nora hummed in thought, before snapping her finger. "Did my husband send you?" The boy nodded, and held up a small pouch. Nora cooed. "Oh, he's always so good with children. He's so kind and sweet." Nora stood up, and extended her hand. "Come with me; we'll help you get home, right, boys?" The three murmured in hesitant agreement. "I'll make you a deal: you go home and help your mommy take care of your sister, and I'll only ask for twice my usual sweets next Sunday, and then you can have the next Sunday off."

The boy took her hand. "Thank'u, m'lady! You're too kin'!"

"No, my husband is the one who's too kind. Why, I doubt he could harm a living soul if he tried. That is the man I married; the Lord of the Watchtower, Jaune Arc the Kind!"

Blood dripped down Jaune's elbow as he held the beaten man by his jaw. People were frightened, screams muffled by others who knew well to not escalate the situation further. Cardin stood close, eyeing the crowd for any further agression.

Jaune breathed to calm himself. Even he prayed this would work to soothe himself. He looked at the man again; he was a faunus, with black rabbit ears. On the ground was the knife he held, untouched by blood. Based on the broken mask on his face, the man was a member of the White Fang.

"Who sent you?" Jaune asked.

"Y-Your mother." Jaune sighed. He shifted his hands, freeing his right and using his left to grab the man's collar. Jaune raised his fist.

"Who are you?"

"We are the price of the Faunus Wars." Jaune gritted his teeth. He struck him once with his right, striking his cheek. The man spit out teeth.

"The Faunus Wars ended over a century ago. I want a name!"

"Nora Valkyrie." Jaune froze. Cardin froze. Everyone froze with bated breath. Anyone who knew Lord Jaune Arc knew a statement using his wife's name ended one of two ways.

Jaune loosed a breath. "I said-"

A raspy chuckle interrupted him. "She's such a good, little whore, ain't-"

Nora returned to the throne room from the stables, where she saw off the boy and his two bodyguards. She was accompanied by the remaining Russell, who quickly reunited with his team leader.

Cardin's armored breastplate was caked in blood. He also had a black eye, with a bruise on his accompanying cheek. He waved it off as if it were nothing.

The guests of the court left, business concluded for the day. Quite early as well. Jaune sat slumped in his chair.

"Jaune?" Nora inquired. "Are you okay?"

Jaune waved at the issue with his bloodied hand. His chest-plate and entire torso was more blood than garment. There were servants scrubbing blood around him.

"What happened?" Nora drew closer.

"It's nothing to worry about, Nora, I-"

A slap thundered in the throne room. All eyes fell on the Lord and Lady of the Tower. The Lord in question had a red-mark on his face, and his head was turned as though struck by a hammer. The Lady stood over him, arm extended as she huffed. She then grabbed him by his collar.

"What?!" She roared in his face, hers red as a tomato. "Happened?!"

"I killed a man, my Lady."

"Why?!" Her husband did not answer. She turned to Cardin. "Winchester! Who died?! Who was this man?!"

Cardin gulped before speaking. "We didn't know his name, but he was a White Fang assassin. He attacked Lord Arc."

"So you killed a man, a Faunus no less, because you were about to be assassinated?" Nora turned her frustration back to her husband. "Or am I missing something?"

"He insulted you." Nora dropped him.

"Everyone out of the throne room!" She screeched. Everyone slowly made their way out. "Now!"

The throne room was empty in record time. Nora huffed, facing away from Jaune. "So, what now?" Jaune didn't respond. Nora turned to him again. "Well?"

"I don't know." Jaune replied. "Someone tried to kill me. Used your name to provoke me. I just don't understand why."

"Yes, you do." Nora said. She stepped forward, and sat on her husband's lap. She stroked his hair, and spoke softly. "Who attacked you?"

"The White Fang." Jaune replied. He held her close and inhaled her scent. "Those terrorists never liked humans, but they usually leave us alone. Why now, and why just one man?"

Nora brought his head up and kissed his forehead. "You know why." She trailed down. "What makes him different from everyone else?"

"He was a Faunus." Jaune replied, kissing her lips. He pressed himself further in, roaming her body with his hands. "People won't see a murder, they'll see a hate crime."

"Exactly." Nora pulled from the kiss to chew on his lower lip. She stopped and started panting. "And who has the most to lose from this?" Jaune opened his mouth, but Nora put a finger to his lips. "Shh... Not here. We'll continue this upstairs. For now..." Nora stood up and straightened herself. "Guards!" Guards arrived posthaste. "Send word to Beacon, The Watchtower will be closed to the public. Especially the Faunus." The guards were hesitant until Nora waved them away.

"Actively banning Faunus?" Jaune asked. "Is that wise?"

"You didn't stop me, did you?"

"No." Jaune replied. "No, I didn't. If the White Fang was to wage war against us, then we'll give them a war." Jaune rose from his throne. "But first," he grabbed his wife from behind and sucked upon her neck, "I need you to stop clouding my mind."

Nora stepped away, leading Jaune upstairs with a giggle. "Then come upstairs, my Lord, so we can clear your mind."

Russell and Cardin sat outside the Tower. "So, uh," Russell began, "are we waiting for the other two?"

Cardin nodded. "And for this to heal." He pointed to his eye, with was less bruised. "I'm not getting Lord Arc in more trouble than he already is."

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 4 -- Stalemate Word Count: 8284

READ ON AO3

Waking up to the sound of her parents’ latest invention going awry was something she was sure she was never going to get used to. Never mind that she’d have an entire life to get accustomed to it or her newfound respect for what her family did for a living. 

As disciplined as Jasmine Fenton was, being awakened by an explosion was never going to be anything but annoying. 

Sighing resignedly, Jazz yanked her covers aside and got up, ready to start a new day. After showering and getting dressed with a long-sleeved, white dress shirt, a black ribbon tied tightly around its collar; a matching black, a-line skirt over thin grey tights; a teal blazer over her shirt, and brown ankle boots (which went well with her brown leather shoulder bag); she first made her way down the stairs to her parents’ lab. 

Absent-mindedly combing her pixie cut with her fingersーa decision she made after 18 years of rushed haircuts due to having been covered in some sort of unknown ectoplasmic goo after an invention explodedー, Jazz cut straight to the chase. “Let me guess, your latest invention just ‘malfunctioned’”, she air-quoted. 

As she expected, Jack and Maddie were hunched over a metallic device that had definitely seen better days, if the smoke coming off of it was any indication...What she wasn’t expecting though, although she should have, was her dad’s answer. “Actually, that was just the Fenton Toaster. We were about to start the day with a healthy, ghost-kicking breakfast, when she failed on us.” Had she been sixteen again or literally any other person in the world, Jazz might’ve actually been taken aback by the fact that her dad was tearing up over a toaster. Then again, she was Jazz Fenton and this sort of thing from her dad was as common as him yelling obscenities about ghosts. “Oh, dear friend. We hardly knew ye!” 

Rolling her eyes at his dad’s antics while her mum patted his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, Jazz muttered, “Dad, that toaster’s almost as old as Danny…” Who, by the way, was going to be ecstatic to learn the dreaded toast-drying machine from Hell had finally been vanquished. 

Speaking of her little brother, “Where’s Danny, anyway?”

Again, to any other family in the USA but the Fentons, that question would have seemed stupid. Danny was a college student who lived at his university’s dorms with his best friend, so the chances of him being around his childhood home during the school year were pretty slim. And, again, they were the Fentons, and her little brother had been going back and forth from his dorm, to Fenton Works, to the Ghost Zone (not like their parents knew, or even needed to know, about that one…) since he first got into APU. 

Maddie left her weeping husband’s side to pick a wrench up and start working on the toaster again ーpoor Danny; it seemed the evil, toast-drying machine from Hell was harder to get rid of than Vlad. “Sorry, sweetie. You missed him while you were doing your research. Your brother was here yesterday; he said he came Sunday night because he couldn’t find his dorms’ keys. But he’s back at college now.”

She suddenly stopped tinkering with the busted toaster’s inner workings, taking off her goggles from her face, a pensive expression plastered on her face. “Hm...I know Danny’s always been a little distracted, but he keeps losing his keys. At this rate he’s going to end up sleeping on the street just because he can’t get inside his own home!”

Recovering from his temporary loss of composure over the Fenton Toaster ー“I love you, guys, but it’s a miracle this family hasn’t been studied by professional psychiatrics already. Not like I didn’t give it my best shot…”, Jazz thought to herselfー, Jack was soon standing right beside his wife, towering over the pile of scrap metal with a matching pensive expression of his own. 

That couldn’t be good.

“Now that you mention it, sweetcakes,” he said, “you’re right. Danny’s always losing stuff!”

“Right?” Maddie insisted. “Don’t you remember, back in his first year of high school, when his English teacher, Mr. Lancer, called you over because Danny’s pants kept falling several times just that week?”

“Uh...the memory’s a bit blurry, Hon, but I know what you mean.” In truth, Jack didn’t remember any of that. All he knew was that he suddenly found himself chaperoning a homecoming dance. If only there was a way to get your memories back like those keychains that you attached to your clothes… And then it hit him. “I know, Maddie! Why don’t we make one of those keychains that you attach to your clothes so you won’t lose them for Danny?”

His wife beamed at that. For all his scatterbrained-ness, Jack truly was a talented inventor with a creative mind. Just a fuzzy head. “Oh, that sounds marvelous, honey! I’m sure Danny will love that!” She exclaimed before quickly pecking him on the lips.

Unbeknownst to her parents, Jazz grimaced in worry at the idea. Back when she was sixteen, or any other day, really; she’d have been overjoyed at the idea of her ghost-hunting parents creating something that was absolutely non-ghost-related, but since said idea would make it more difficult for Danny to keep his secret from them...She was just glad she was in town to look over him. Trying to appear supportive rather than dismayed, Jazz chirped, “Yeah, great idea, Dad...What are you going to call it? The Fenton Keychain?”

“‘The Fenton Keychain?’” Jack parroted before scoffing. “Of course not, Jazzy-pants! I was thinking something more along the lines of, ‘The Fenton Fermoir’!” He announced, striking a dramatic pose. 

The blue-eyed young woman started at that, taken aback. “Wait, ‘fermoir’? Isn’t that French?”

“Yes, it’s an adjective that means ‘that which closes.’” 

Gaping at her dad, Jazz blinked. And blinked again. And blinked a third time for good luck. “...you know French?”

This time, it was her mother who answered her, laughing her question off. “Oh, yes. There’s more to us than just ghost-hunting, you know?” Then she and her husband laughed together at her own joke. 

“Could’ve fooled me…” Jazz mumbled. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Um...oh, right. So Danny’s not here today, huh?” Her parents shook their heads. “That’s a shame, I wanted to ask him how things were going with...um...with, you know, school and all that. Oh, well! I’m sure he’ll tell me some other time.”

Jack and Maddie exchanged a glance. Ever since Danny started going to high school, their kids often acted weird. At first, they blamed it on adolescence, making them want to make an identity for themselves outside of their parents’ influence but not knowing exactly who they truly were, either. But the fact that their eldest child was 23, their youngest 21, and they still acted like that sometimes was a bit concerning. 

The wrench in her hand long forgotten, Maddie made her way to her daughter’s side. She draped an arm around her shoulders, not noticing that said arm was the one holding the aforementioned wrench and that she was unconsciously pointing at Jazz’s face with it. “Honey, is there something about Danny we should know about?”

Jazz panicked.

Yes.

Yes, there were so many things about Danny they should know about.

They should know their kid had gone through a terrible accident that changed his life forever at the tender age of fourteen. They should know he got ghost powers he spent agonising months trying to get control over. They should know he only ever wanted to protect innocents from ghosts and yet, he was labeled as a menace by the very same people he was trying to look after. They should know he’d not only been carrying the burden of being Amity Park’s unofficial protector since he was fourteen, but also became the king of an entire dimension and could count the people he could rely on with his hands. They should know he went through his very first serious heartbreak because the girl he liked hated his ghost half more than she liked him. They should know their college best friend was a fruitloop who wanted to kill Dad, take Mum from him, and either kill or adopt Danny; because, really, it all depended on the side of the bed Vlad woke up on.

They should know their only son was risking his life even more now because he’d made a deal with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park who, judging by what Danny had told her, was the embodiment of a death sentence.

And he’d been carrying all those burdens and responsibilities, facing constant danger, making decisions not even full-fledged adults would find easy to make, and had been aimed at with ecto-blasters by his own parents since he was fourteen. Being Danny Phantom had stolen some of the best years of his life away from  Danny Fenton. 

And they had no idea of any of that. 

But how could they, when Danny refused to tell them the truth?

Every time Danny faced a bigger threat than dealing with ghosts of the same caliber as the Box Ghost, Jazz tried convincing him to come clean to their parents. Because, what if they never saw him again after that battle? What would she tell them, then? 

But Danny would not budge. And, Jazz remembered, she couldn’t blame him. With the entire town, barring a dedicated fan club, and a good chunk of the Ghost Zone against him, how could he risk losing one of the very few places he could call home? Just like she told him when he asked her why she never said anything about his secret, it was his secret. Only he could talk about it with Mum and Dad. 

“Jazz, honey? Is everything alright?”

Her mother’s voice broke her out of her stupor. She must’ve spaced out for a while, for her parents were looking at her worriedly. Flushing sheepishly, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. And don’t worry about Danny either. He just…” What was that excuse he told her he’d use if anyone started asking questions again? Oh, right. “He’s just busy working on a paper to help me with my own thesis, that’s all.”

Okay. So not only was it a lie, but it wasn’t exactly what Danny told her to say, either. Her little brother decided to respond saying he was suddenly very interested in the occult because he was writing a paper on a seminar he’d signed himself up for, but since she went back to Amity Park to study the witches there, it was still a good excuse. 

Said excuse seemed to calm her parents down, before they fully registered her words and they seemed worried again. But, she knew, this time they were worried for her.

“Uh, Princess? Are you sure you want to focus that thesis of yours on...witches?” Jack asked warily, looking up from the remainers of the Fenton Toaster.

The redhead rolled her eyes in annoyance; there they went again. “Your father’s right, sweetie. While not necessarily a bad topic...erm...it’s not exactly the easiest one to research.” Her mother tried to discourage her gently. “For starters, most of the  records we have are nothing but speculations and hearsay… I mean, the Salem witch trials were mostly based on unfounded accusations!”

How two of the world leading experts in ectology, who defended the existence of ghosts long before their theories were proven correct, could be so convinced there was no such thing as witches was beyond her. Arbitrary scepticism, much?

Jazz had to admit, she understood her family’s surprise when she opted to focus her thesis for her Cryptology class on the legendary women. A psychology undergraduate, a woman convinced of the infallible nature of the scientific method since birth, and an aspiring psychologist since she was sixteen, it was understandable that her decision to minor in Cryptology would come as a surprise to...well, everyone. 

But protecting your half-ghost little brother from the shadows for the last seven years had a way of making you question everything you once thought you knew. 

After all, if such a thing as ghosts weren’t only real but had an entire dimension for themselves, then who was to say such a thing as magic-wielding women couldn’t exist?

The moment Danny told her and Tucker he planned on asking them for help at the beginning of Fall only cemented her decision. It was a real pity Danny refused to disclose the supposed location of the Amity Park clan for her safety. 

“Mum, Dad, I’ve told you already. It’s precisely because of all those myths that I want to study them. For all we know, all those potions that are always mentioned in folklore could just be really advanced medicine. Are we really going to turn our backs on the scientific community like that?”

“And that’s a great idea sweetie! But…” Maddie tried reasoning with her, but nothing came to mind. Awkwardly, she turned to her husband and whispered harshly, “Help me out here, will you?”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. “What your mother’s trying to say, Jazz, is that, if there was evidence on the existence of witches, we’d already know. Don’t forget, your ancestor, John Fentonightingale, was a celebrated witch hunter during the time of the Salem trials. He was an admired and respected member of his village, but the only thing he ever did was send innocent people to be burned alive.

“When he eventually realised what he’d done, he spent the rest of his life lamenting his shortsightedness; rejecting the fame and glory his witch-hunting days had brought him. And even if he ultimately turned to ghost-huntingー”

“Goodbye, fame and respect.” Jazz mumbled.

“ーthe hole in his heart caused by his actions would never be filled again.” Jack finished his tale with a morose expression, hoping Jazz would understand what he was trying to say. 

She didn’t. “Okay, that was a very moving story with a valuable lesson on the dangers of letting fear and paranoia overtake us. But what does it have to do with me?”

Still standing by her daughter’s side, Maddie tried comfortingly rubbing her arms with the hand that wasn’t holding the wrench. “We’re just trying to warn you not to jump to conclusions, because you might regret it.”

Okay, that was it. Her parents were in no position to warn her against jumping to conclusions; they lost that right the day she finally understood they’d been unknowingly talking about ripping their own son apart ‘molecule by molecule’ ーright in front of him. Jerking away from her mother’s touch, she put her hands on her hips as she sent them her most meaningful look.

“For the last time! I’m not going to try and, I don’t know, rally up the entire town against the witches! I just want to study them. You know, learn about their culture, about the origins of their abilities, about the differences between fact and fiction...” she shot them a pointed look as she stressed that last part. “I just want to understand them!”

“But you don’t even know if they exist!” Jack protested as she made it to the stairs.

Hearing her dad’s comment, she turned to face them once more. Oh, she knew they existed alright, that much Danny had been able to clue her in. What she didn’t know was where to find them. But she couldn’t tell them that. “Well, that certainly didn’t stop you from building a ghost portal to another dimension you weren’t even sure existed! And it sure as Heck won’t stop me!” 

That last comment should be enough to get her parents off her back for at least a couple of days. But the conversation had put her in a bad mood, something that didn’t happen since she learned to appreciate her parents’ ghost-hunting abilities, or, when it was Danny who was being pursued by them, their lack thereof. Stomping out of the house and slamming the door closed behind her, Jazz angrily made her way to the usual starting point of her quest. 

The Amity Park Public Library. 

The large granite building was supposed to be completely white, but the decades since it was built had washed out the stones, making them look grey-ish instead. The several steps leading up to the entrance were flanked by two lead lion statues resting atop a block of stone each. The front of the building, on the other hand, was both decorated and supported by numerous columns, with two of them at either side of the wooden door. 

Despite the impressive sight, what truly mattered lay behind its doors. Walking inside, Jazz let herself be washed over by the smell of ink and paper so characteristic of the library. Wherever she looked, hundreds of books stood proudly on their shelves, some of them so high up that the only way to reach them was with the help of stairs. 

Scattered around the library were several tables and plastic chairs where the visitors could sit to read their latest acquisition or work on the projects that brought them to the library in the first place. 

Breathing the scent in, Jazz walked over to the little counter located right at the entrance of the library, where the librarian would usually be working on her computer. Whenever she wasn’t out and about organising books, that is. 

Jazz waved at her with a smile. After coming to the library to study for years, she was basically a regular by now. “Good morning, Wilhelmina!” Wincing at her unintentional high-pitched tone, she lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “How’s everything around here?”

Looking up from her computer, the pudgy woman smiled knowingly at Jazz before willing her chair to get closer to her. “Good morning, Jasmine. It’s been so long since I last saw you; when was it again, two days ago?” Wilhelmina joked as she leaned in closer to the redhead, intertwining her fingers as her elbows rested on her desk.

Jazz flushed slightly at the harmless jab. “What can I say? You won’t get rid of me so easily!”

“Don’t I know it…” There was something odd about the way the librarian said those words, but the redhead decided to let it go. It was probably nothing, either way. 

“I wanted to ask you if you could recommend a book onー?”

“On witches?” The auburn-haired lady finished for her. Seeing the young woman’s embarrassed hint of red on her cheeks, she chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so surprised, my dear. You’ve been asking for the same thing for almost a month now! It’s just nice seeing someone retain some sort of interest for this old place and its books. Nowadays, most people just come here to surf the net for free.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me for a while, then! So, the books?”

Leaning back on her chair, Wilhelmina pointed to a faraway aisle. “Try the History section. I’m sure there’ll be a journal or something to help you with your paper.”

Jazz flashed her a charming grin, “Thanks, Wilhelmina. You’re the best!” As she turned her back on the librarian, Jazz failed to notice the dark grin that made its way to her face. 

Once Jazz was out of earshot, Wilhelmina said, “Oh, you have no idea,” the twisted expression never leaving her face.

As she walked around the library’s endless halls, Jazz couldn’t help but be grateful for having Wilhelmina as the librarian. Any other person would have looked at her like she was crazy or a Satanist murderer in the making for researching the occult so much, but never Wilhelmina. The woman just smiled at her and tried helping her to the best of her abilities. If Jazz had been looking for information entirely on her own, she’d have stuck to a particular section of the library, but Wilhelmina was always recommending a broader search. And, Jazz couldn’t help but think, it was a smart choice. One never knew what they could find or learn if they listened to different experiences other than their own. 

Standing in front of the shelf where the history books were, the aqua-eyed woman began scanning for something that might help her clear up the fog surrounding the group of witches Danny might be facing from now on. If she could just find out where their hideout was supposed to be… Not only would she be able to study them, but she might even convince them to ally themselves with her brother for good!

Ever since she was a teenager and found out about her brother’s secret, Jazz was determined to focus her thesis on the effects such circumstances could have on him. But as time went by, she came to understand that would be impossible. Writing a thesis on Danny’s very unique circumstances would be akin to exposing him, and she couldn’t do that to him. 

Because he trusted her. 

Danny’s number of enemies increased tenfold by the day, while his allies followed a much more stagnant rhythm. Goodness, he couldn’t even get his girlfriend to give up ghost hunting for him! She and Tucker were the only two people in all of Amity Park he could rely on. 

And there was no way she’d ever betray that trust. 

Which, sure, was a very meaningful proof of the love and bond between them, but still left Jazz without a topic for her thesis. So when Danny revealed his discoveries on the existence of witches, of all things, she was ecstatic. 

The possibility of a magical species living in Amity Park was perfect on many levels. On the one hand, it would expand their knowledge of the paranormal, with the added bonus of finding potential alternatives for everyday problems. And on the other, it gave her the perfect excuse to stay close to Danny and make sure he was safe. With her in town, he wouldn’t have to make up excuses as to why he slept in Fenton Works when he already had a perfectly nice place to stay at APU. All he had to do was phase through her room to get to his. 

And, most importantly, that way he had somebody else he could talk to about his double life. He was going to need it if he’d indeed managed to establish a truce between the spellbinding women and ghosts. From what he’d told them, those sorceresses were vile. 

As she walked over a nearby table carrying a pile of books with both hands, Jazz couldn’t help but wonder how her little brother would handle the situation. 

.............

Danny was not handling the situation well.

Although, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. Lady Arcana’s own unwillingness to cooperate was a key factor in their stalemate. 

Even if they addressed each other formally and obvious jabs directed at their respective species were, thankfully, non-existent, the coldness between them that reigned during their first face-to-face interaction was now stronger than ever. 

Just like the last time, he’d sent Skulker to escort the queen and her entourageーwhich still consisted of the same two witches; talk about confidence…ー through the Ghost Zone up until they arrived at his lair’s throne room. They still pretended they were both honoured to be in each other’s presence even though Danny was sure the Witch Queen wished she could just spit at him as much as he did. 

And knowing Desiree, if she were near to grant her wish, a cascade of spit would rain down on him.

This time, however, Danny had ventured deeper inside his lair, with the witches close behind him. Figuring discussing over inter-dimensional safety in the middle of his throne room would be unwise, since one never knew who could be watching, he led his guests to the Council Room; where the Observants, Clockwork, and heーand occasionally Frostbite or any other ghost with a modicum of authorityーgathered to discuss political affairs regarding the Infinite Realms. 

Admittedly, he wanted to slap himself for not thinking about it sooner. 

Another thing that was different and he had failed to point out earlier was that, technically, the witches weren’t alone. No, there was nobody else besides the queen and her two...guards? ーcould he even call them guards?ー but they weren’t alone per se, either. 

The bespectacled, strawberry blonde one had a pet owl perched on her shoulder. The bird, Danny had to admit, was beautiful. Its plumage was predominantly white and cream. The white feathers were more noticeable in its belly and heart-shaped face, with most of its body and the top of its head looking rather creamy. The owl’s black orbs seemed not only capable of seeing in the dark, but also deep inside your soul. 

In other words, the girl’s pet was pretty, but creepy. And he had a feeling that would be a stable of these women. 

The Asian teenager seemed to prefer reptiles, and, yes, he based his hypothesis entirely on the fact that the girl had a bearded dragon around her neck as if she was wearing a scarf. Danny couldn’t tell what was creepier; the lizard’s naturally spiky, scale-covered body and its little tongue licking its eyeball, or the way the witch scratched her pet’s chin and cooed at it when she thought nobody was paying attention to her. 

“Well, it could be worse. She could buy herself a cat and name it after a married woman who will never love her back.” Danny had to physically restrain himself from shuddering at the thought. 

But the weirdest thing, of course, had to be Lady Arcana’s own companion. Which, again, he was sure was going to be a stable between them. At first he didn't even see her carrying anything, her form obscured by her cloak, but the moment they entered the Council Room ーalone; Lady Arcana had stationed her witches to guard the doors, just as he did the same with two of Walker’s goonsーand she made herself comfortable (or as comfortable as she’d ever be in enemy territory), he spotted it.

Had she really brought a potted plant with her all the way from the portal to his lair? And, now that he took a closer look, was that a carnivorous plant?

Scratch whatever he said about the teenager and her lizard. The way the plant nuzzled her face or wrapped itself around her forearm as she gently stroked its stem was ten times creepier. Although, a part of him couldn’t help but think she and Undergrowth would get along swimmingly. 

Two plant-loving psychos bonding with each other. Talk about a meet cute. 

But never mind their questionable taste for pets. They’d been discussing for over an hour and they were still at the starting point. Time was money and this woman was going to make him go bankrupt if they kept going like this. 

“Your Majesty, I understand the situation is quite...extraordinary, but I’m afraid we are still in need of a solution.” He tried for the umpteenth time that hour. 

The woman before him just sniffed in displeasure. It was a good thing they were separated by a rather large, rectangular table, otherwise, he might have leaned forward and wrung her little neck out of sheer exasperation. “I am perfectly aware of the situation, King Phantom. But, as I have informed you already, there is not much I can do if I do not know the cause of the portals opening.”

But that was precisely why he needed her help! Getting frustrated, Danny let out through gritted teeth, “Which I believe is precisely the reason why I need you here in the first place, my Lady. You are supposed to be able to discover the reason behind it.”

“Well, supposedly, these portals are a natural occurrence of the Ghost Zone. How is it possible that you do not know how to take care of the problem on your own?” She countered, matter-of-factly, and Danny would have given about anything to get her to shut up and do something useful instead. 

“Supposedly,” he echoed, “your people have the natural ability to surpass the laws that separate the Infinite Realms and Earth from each other, and hence, youーshouldーknowーhowーtoーcounterーit!” His voice raising in volume as he spoke, he made sure to punctuate that last part for emphasis. 

Narrowing her violet eyes at him in disdainーhow could he have ever thought they were beautiful?!ー, Lady Arcana spat. “Supposedly, that bond was tattered after your kind’s betrayal.”

If it weren’t for the audacity of her statement, he would’ve recoiled at the gravity and resentment etched into her words. Narrowing his own eyes at her, he leaned forward. “Trust me, your Majesty, you would be wise to keep your mouth shut; you are in no position to talk about betrayals.”

As her scowl deepened, teeth borne at him in anger, a low growl could be heard emanating from her throat. But Danny was not going to be intimidated that easily. Returning the intensity of her gaze, the two kept eye contact, initiating a staring contest born from frustration and distrust. 

Eventually, the Witch Queen averted her eyes, crossing her eyes in a huff as she leaned back on her chair. Her little plant reacted to her turmoil, for it hopped over to her ーwait, it hopped?!ーto get her attention. Noticing her weird-ass pet near her, the witch began to absent-mindedly caress its little, purple...head?

He was never eating a salad again in his life; he ought to let Tucker know he’d decided to join him in his carnivorous ways.

Leaning back against his own chair, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. They’d been at it for more than an hour and, rather than discuss a possible solution, all they’d done was argue. Sighing through his nose, he called out to her, an idea forming in his mind, “Hey.”

Taken aback by his sudden drop of formality, Sam looked over at him with a guarded expression. What was he up to? Rather than answering, she raised an interested eyebrow as a sign to go on. 

Danny took that raised eyebrow and her silence as permission to continue. “How about we drop the honorifics and formality for a while, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’m a rather laid-back person and having to address someone as if I was meeting the Queen of England tends to stress me out. And that by extension makes me much more prone to get defensive.”

Sam bit back her reply that she was, in fact, as much of a queen as the Queen of England, and that he should treat her as such.

“And let’s be real; getting defensive with each other is going to get us nowhere, don’t you agree? Besides, I’m already stressed out as it is due to a matter regarding a black hole forming, so I bet I’m not the most agreeable guy to be around right now.”

“No, you aren’t”, Sam was actually surprised Phantom shared her beliefs about formality and social distance. But that didn’t mean she was going to lower her guard around him. And his last words took her completely by surprise. “...did you just say ‘black hole’?”

“That’s not something you should concern yourself with.” He dismissed the question immediately.

Squinting her lavender eyes at him, her suspicions of any ulterior motives never quite going away, Sam gave in. “What are you getting at?”

At least she was listening to him. He was willing to count that as progress. Danny raised his palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, we don’t know for how long we’re gonna have to work together. So how about we’re at least casual with each other? Because, I don’t know about you, but all this higher register of speech is giving me a headache.”

As if to prove his point, Danny rose up in the air until he was comfortably floating about three feet high. As he leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head and one leg over the other, nothing would’ve wiped the smug look on his face as he looked down on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park, her own jaw hanging low in awe. 

Noticing the smugness radiating off of him in waves, the raven-haired girl forced her jaw shut. No way in Hell was she going to give him the satisfaction of amazing her. Even if she wasn’t going to say it aloud, Sam concurred with his point. Straightening her back, head held up high, she made sure to bruise his ego the same way he almost bruised hers. “Fine. Let’s drop the honorifics, I was tired of pretending I have any respect for you, anyway.”

Danny frowned at that. “Hey!”

“What? Do you seriously expect me to believe I’m not in immediate danger of being attacked by a ghost just for the mere fact of invading their turf? That you and your people actually respect mine?” Her voice was laced with cynicism as she scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

As much as Danny would’ve loved to contradict her, he knew he couldn’t. After all, he hadn’t just sent Skulker to escort them in fear they might get lost, the possibility of them being ambushed by vengeful ghosts was very real.

The raven-haired girl smiled triumphantly, knowing she had him right where she wanted him. “If it’s any consolation, if any of you so much as tried stepping foot, or ghostly tail, or whatever, into our territory, not a single one of us would hesitate to exorcise the Hell outta you.” Motioning to the door with her head, she added. “Susan in particular would have a blast.”

“Susan?”

“The teenager with the bearded dragon; Count Scalynton”

“‘Count Scalynton’?” Danny echoed in disbelief, before having to stifle a laugh with his gloved hand. Seeing the Witch Queen’s unamused stare, however, he sobered up. “And...uh...what about...the owl?”

“That’s Spooky.” Lady Arcana replied with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“And your little friend?” He asked hesitantly, pointing at the potted plant comfortably perched on its owner’s lap, but making sure his finger didn’t get too close; in fear of getting it bitten off. 

“Oh, this little guy?” Sam looked down at DeMilo with a fond smile. “His name’s DeMilo.”

“...are you serious?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No! No, no. Of course not! DeMilo is...uh, a great name.” He quickly assured her, sheepishly. The last thing he needed was to invoke her wrath, again. Clearing his throat, Danny decided it’d be best to change topics. “So...No honorifics?”

“No honorifics.” Lady  Arcana nodded from her chair. 

“Right. So, instead of ‘your Majesty’, ‘my Lord’, or ‘King Phantom’, you can just call me ‘Phantom’ and Iー”

“You can just call me ‘Lady Arcana.’” The Witch Queen cut him off with a tone that left no room for discussion. 

The white-haired young man slouched slightly at that. Just when he thought they were making progress, she closed herself off completely all over again. But he couldn’t afford displeasing her further, so he’d have to play by her rules...For now. “Right. Got it. So...about those portals?”

As he asked that, Phantom leaned forward to her, changing his position mid-air so his torso was facing now upside down but his head remained straight. As the Ghost King lowered his body so his forearms were atop the wooden table, an intrigued gaze directed at her, Sam deposited DeMilo on the table, her own hands resting on it. Locking eyes, they had each other’s undivided attention. 

Understanding they were back to business, Sam sighed tiredly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I need to know the cause behind the portals’ strange behaviour. If this is something that can be solved through magic, then it is imperative that we know what’s causing it to figure out the best course of action to take. The wrong spell could lead to disastrous consequences.”

“Like?” Phantom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Like sending the world to another dimension instead of closing a portal between dimensions.”

“I guess that makes sense. So how do we figure out the cause?”

“I can start by looking through this.” Sam offered as she, seemingly, got a book out of nowhere, Phantom’s eyes widening at the sight. The reddish-brown leathered book was the same one she used to open the portals to the Ghost Zone, which made it their safest bet for finding a solution. After all, if the book guarded almost forgotten knowledge on how to open inter-dimensional drifts, then it should have the answers to more mysteries, right?

...............

Outside the Council Room, on each side of the door, Stephanie and Susan were patiently waiting for their queen. Well, “patiently waiting” might have been an exaggeration. Stephanie was stiff as a board, while Susan looked like a furious guard dog, the murder in her eyes only cemented the picture. 

Both witches’ emotional state could only be attributed to one thing.

Ghosts. 

Or, to be more precise, the two police-dressed, green spirits they were forced to stand guard alongside because the Ghost King wasn’t about to be caught dead (pun not-intended) with three witches and no back-up.

As much as she hated it, Susan had to give the spook credit: he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought. 

The teenager kept stroking the length of Count Scalynton’s body, currently sprawled alongside her arm, as she pondered different ways to escape the Ghost King’s lair and his ectoplasmic, door-floating, bloodcurdling realm in case things went awry. 

Beside her, Stephanie was lovingly scratching Spooky’s beak in an attempt to calm  herself down. Looking over at the ghost-guard assigned to her, she squeaked and promptly looked away when the spectre, having felt her gaze on him, landed his blood-red, pupiless eyes on her. Gulping loudly, she whispered to Susan. “Do you think her Majesty will be frequently meeting Phantom from now on?”

Susan whispered back with a sneer. “I hope not! Miss Wilhelmina was right when she warned me against these putrid, soulless drones. We can’t lower our guards, especially not now that the queen needs us.”

Discreetly pointing with her head, the Asian girl guided her partner’s gaze to her hips. Lifting her red hoodie almost unnoticeably, the strawberry blonde’s eyes widened at the sight; two crossed, leather bandoliers were filled to the brims with an assemblage of jars containing colourful liquids. Stephanie’s jaw almost fell open in shock; the 17-year-old girl was armed to the teeth with potions!

Realising they weren’t alone and the dangers in their secret stash being found out, Stephanie tried to appear nonchalant. Pretending to be talking in general, she added. “I just hope her Majesty is safe.”

Susan gave her a wry smile. “Oh, trust me. Her Majesty will be fine even without our help.”

...............

As she skimmed the pages of the spellbook in search of more information on the portals, Sam kept looking over at Phantom, praying he hadn’t noticed anything unusual. 

As satisfying as it’d been seeing his bewildered face when she suddenly pulled the book off seemingly out of nowhere, the truth was she’d been carrying it with her under her skirt. But what she worried about was not him finding out about the book, but the other items her dress hid from plain sight. 

Strapped around her thigh was a black holster filled with potions. Unlike the arsenal Sam knew Susan had brought with her, which consisted of several offensive and highly corrosive concoctions, the queen’s own collection consisted mostly of Blinding Bombs. As the name indicated, it was a type of potion whose main purpose was to distract the opponent long enough to retreat or come up with a plan. If things went south, all Sam had to do was smash the jar against the ground and cover her eyes, for a small explosion of light would ensue and temporarily blind the spirits, giving her and her girls enough time to escape. 

As she leafed through the spellbook’s pages, she suddenly shivered, noticing a cold presence by her side sending shivers down her spine. What was even odder was the sudden smell of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Dumbfounded, she turned her face to the side and growled at the sight. Snapping the book closed and bringing it close to her chest, she snarled at Phantom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Taken aback by her sudden movements, Danny blinked. “Um, trying to help you?”

He had to be kidding her. “Come again?”

“I...uh...I just thought I could help you look for answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So I was trying to see if I could find anything useful in that book of yours.”

Oh, he definitely had to be kidding her. “No, thank you.” She turned him down, only thanking him out of politeness. She turned back to the book. “You’ll only drag us down, anyway.”

Danny was starting to get really frustrated with that all-knowing, condescending attitude of hers. Even his sister wasn’t as annoying despite her know-it-all tendencies. Hell, Skulker was easier to work with! Standing up in mid-air, using his leverage to stare her downーliterallyーhe folded his arms in front of his chest. “And how, pray tell, am I going to drag us down?”

He was surprised by the witch’s next action. Huffing loudly, she got up from her chair and shoved the book in his face quicker than he could blink. At first he had trouble registering what just happened (mostly because he was levitating a good three feet above her and she was still safely on the ground) until he took notice of the sparkly, purple mist surrounding theーfloatingーspellbook. He blinked in awe; so that’s how her magic looked like. Once the initial surprise had worn off, however, Danny had to admit, he was a little disappointed; he’d expected more than a floating book. 

Looking over the tome, he saw Lady Arcana staring intently at him. Instead of anger as he expected, however, an amused, knowing expression adorned her features. He might’ve thought she looked pretty hadn’t it been for the wickedness of her smile. 

“Read.” She instructed him. 

Danny did as he was told...only to furrow his brow in confusion. What the…? Reading over the pages he couldn’t make sense of anything written on them. The inked markings splattered all over couldn’t even be considered hieroglyphics! Squinting at the offending piece of paper, he tried reading aloud. “Spiral...lightning bolt...spork?...What kind of sick mind came up with this?!” 

Sam let out a hollow laugh. “You really think that if you were really able to read this book in the first place all by yourself, you’d even need to call for me?” She rolled her eyes at him, not knowing what to think; either this guy was messing with her head or he was an idiot. She motioned with her hand for the book to return to her “Limit yourself to keeping your subjects in line and let me handle this. Although, on second thought, I might actually be asking way too much of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The green-eyed ghost didn’t like where this was going. 

Still reading, Lady Arcana raised her palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, for a ghost that’s supposed to be the undisputable ruler of an entire race after having defeated a tyrant, you sure have a lot of detractors defying your authority.”

“Oh, please! Like you know anything about my subjects or any possible detractors.” Was it true he was often fending off ghosts who didn’t care for his laws to stay clear of Amity Park? Saying he didn’t occasionally get his ass handed to him would be like saying his parents took kindly to people who disrespect their jumpsuits, but he didn’t have to tell her that.

“I know more than enough.” Sam countered.

“Oh, yeah? Name one ghost who doesn’t respect my rule and still causes trouble.” The halfa challenged. What was he trying to get out of this? At least ¾ of his enemies screamed their names and evil plots whenever they were freed from the Ghost Zone! In Ember’s case, she literally depended on people knowing and chanting her name. 

“That poacher ghost of yours...what’s his name?”

A poacher ghost? Who the fuck was she talking aboー? “You mean Skulker?”

Sam perked up at that. “Yes, that one! He so obviously doesn’t respect your authority. I mean, he literally hunts you, the Ghost King, for sport almost every two weeks!”

An undignified sound escaped the halfa’s throat, but that was the last of his concerns at the moment. “Okay, first of all,” he started, raising one gloved finger, “he so totally respects my authority. Whenever I need help, he’s always willing to put the whole hunting-the-most-unique-specimen-ever aside for the greater good. And second,” he sent her a pointed look, floating closer to her. He revelled in the way she uncomfortably shrunk away from him; served her right, “Skulker’s not a poacher, he’s a hunter!”

“Does he have a permit or a hunting license?” Lady Arcana asked, not missing a beat.

That actually gave him pause. “Well...no, butー!”

“If a hunter hunts with no permit, then he’s a poacher!” Seriously, how dense could this dude be?

“You seem to be forgetting that Skulker is a resident of the Ghost Zone; my domain. Whatever laws are followed on Earth or among your kind, do not necessarily apply to us.”

“That outta shut her up,” he thought triumphantly.

“So you’re saying you’re okay with innocent creatures dying solely for the purpose of flattering one ghost’s ego?”

Well, apparently not. Danny spluttered at that. Who was this woman anyway, Jane Goodall?! “Whaー? No, of course not!” He vehemently denied before changing topics. This woman was about to get a taste of her own medicine. “But what’s with all these pointing fingers anyway?! I bet some of your ‘loyal’ witches also commit their own atrocities right under your nose.”

Oh, she was going to blast him into next Thursday for that! Standing up from her chair, Sam slammed her hands against the table (careful not to hurt or startle DeMilo, though). “For your information,” she snarled at the ghost before her, “the only huntress in my clan is Diana. And not only is she formidable, sheーalsoーhasーaーpermit!”

Fed up with the ridiculous conversation and the even more ridiculous woman, Danny slammed his own hands down on the table, even if he was floating. “Again with the permit! What’s with you and permits?! What are you, a cop?!”

“I’m a queen!” Sam all but roared. “So, yes, it is my job to ensure certain jobs are only trusted to people with permits!”

Danny was about to continue ranting, but he stopped himself. All this pointless fighting was only making them waste time, and they couldn’t afford that. He didn’t understand how she wasn’t already exhausted from all the arguing. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let himself fall back on his chair. “Let’s...let’s just keep on investigating. Forget I said anything.”

Sam was about to retort when she took notice of the white-haired ghost’s tired eyes, her own fatigue finally kicking in. Slumping her shoulders as she, too, fell back on her chair once again, she continued reading. “Yeah, sure. That’ll be for the best.”

They stayed in silence for a while after that. Lady Arcana reading intently, and Danny praying to all things above him that he’d be able to survive the day. Eventually, the Witch Queen broke the silence, slamming her book shut. His head snapping up at the sound, Danny dared to hope. “Any luck?”

The queen sighed. “I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

His heart sank. “The bad news,” he moaned pitifully. 

“Bad news is, there’s nothing in this book about what could possibly be causing the Ghost Zone to create more portals than usual. The most it has is the spell I use to get here, but that’s about it.”

Danny was convinced his heart was now lost somewhere along his knees. “And the good news?”

“This isn’t the only book that might have information on the Ghost Zone. When our people parted ways for good after you-know-what,” the look of resentment was back on her face and Danny didn’t know what to do; he should be the one feeling offended! “most of our knowledge was forgotten, but not lost.”

“Meaning?” He prompted her to finish her statement. 

“Meaning, there’s still probably many more books on the topic.” She finished. 

“Which means…” Danny began, only for the two of them to groan in dismay. As nice as it was that not everything was lost just because that particular book didn’t have the answers, having to look for another spellbook or grimoire meant they would have to keep meeting with each other. For Lady Arcana would never leave a precious heirloom belonging to her people out of her sight and in the Ghost Zone, and Danny couldn’t afford to take his eyes off of her in case she and her kind double-crossed them.

In other words, they were stuck with each other until further notice...He was starting to regret not being fully killed by the accident the day he got his powers.

[daisychainsinthespring]

The Snowball Effect.

As a child Darcy Elizabeth Lewis had a Bucky Bear. With its soft brown fur, and navy blue Howling Commandos jacket the bear had quickly become her favourite toy. Her parents thought this adorable, and so never questioned Darcy's complete attachment to said comfort object.

As a teen Darcy Elizabeth Lewis had kept the Bucky Bear, now placed proudly on one of the many bookshelves in her bedroom. Upon learning of the man behind the bear (corporations were behind many evil things, but whoever thought up the idea of making a bear modelled on the ultimate forties heartthrob turned hero deserved a god damn raise in her mind), promptly had her first celebrity crush. At sleepovers Darcy and her friends would sit around in a circle, on their sleeping bags, and share their various fantasies (which only became more realistic with age). Darcy mentioned her affinity for one James “Bucky” Barnes, and her friends latched on to it with a crazed sort of glee that would be concerning from almost anyone else. From that point on Darcy, at random moments throughout the year, received varying levels of increasingly inappropriate Bucky Barnes themed merch, and she (shamelessly) loved it all.

As an intern (not a real adult yet, because no thank you, responsibilities can stay in the far off and distant future) Darcy Elizabeth Lewis realised her minor obsession with a decidedly not dead war hero may be an issue. With Jane having recently moved her lab to Stark Tower, where said hero turned assassin lived, and her childhood friends being aware of said relocation she was worried. The gift giving had only increased in intensity and explicitness with age, and Darcy knew her friends would be having a field day. There was also the fact that despite her move having taken place three months ago, she had yet to receive a single piece of Bucky themed memorabilia. With this in mind Darcy did her best to avoid Sergeant Barnes, which was admittedly not a hard task to accomplish, an intern had little business with an avenger after all. In truth she had only met Sargent “call me James, dollface” Barnes once, when Jane and her had just moved in and Thor was recalling his teammates with stories of his lady and lightning sister. The way he looked her over with his intense ice blue eyes should have been illegal. It was like all of her young adult fantasies coming true at once, and Darcy was fairly certain this had been written all over her face. Upon seeing his utterly sinful smirk slide into place, Darcy knew she had been made. So yes, since that first embarrassing meeting with Sargent Barnes, sex god extraordinaire, she had avoided him like the plague and kept one eye open for suspicious packages from not so well intentioned friends.

As a Stark employee (which was really just a glorified intern with a fancy credit card because Tony didn’t know how to express emotion), Darcy Elizabeth Lewis had yet to receive a single gift from her friends. She had crossed the line from scared to offended. They had missed her birthday for heaven's sake! That never happened. Darcy was also becoming increasingly aware of a shadow that had taken to following her around the tower. The only reason she knew this feeling was not the result of too many science benders (and was in fact real) was because said shadow had also taken to gifting her breakfast on her little wooden desk in the corner of Jane’s lab. She was not going to look a caramel cloud macchiato with a butter croissant in the mouth, thank you very much. Jane was under the impression that this shadow was a secret admirer. Darcy wanted Jane to shut up and stop trying to hook her up with a boyfriend just because she felt bad that Darcy wasn’t getting any while she had a literal God to come home to every night. She had continued to avoid Bucky like the plague, even though he had been quite persistent in the first few months of her living at the tower. He had eventually left her alone, seemingly having given up. Darcy was still unsure of what exactly had led to his interest in her at all, she was just Jane’s gofer, not a superhero or superbrain in her own right. Things had been going well enough, that of course they had to eventually go wrong, and on a Monday no less. Darcy had been missing her mail for long enough, and had decided to go down to the mailroom on her break to see what was the what. Upon entering said room she was promptly told by the nice people working down there that mail for Avengers and Avengers related personnel (which she sadly fell under the umbrella of) was looked over by one James Buchanan Barnes before being allowed to be delivered. Upon further stunned inquiry she was also told that this was another way Sargent Sexy was able to ensure the safety of the tower and its inhabitants (which for a veteran and ex prisoner of war did make some sense). Darcy shuffled back to the labs in a state of rising mortification, her head bent in her phone trying to ignore the crushing sense of knowing exactly what had happened. She did not notice the man in front of her, not until she bumped into him that is. A silver hand had reached out to steady her and Darcy took in a breath when she realised who she had bumped in to. She looked up into his eyes and (in typical Darcy fashion) said the first thing that came to mind, “So funny story, it would seem that you’re in charge of checking over mail for us Avengers adjacent folks, and I’ve been missing said mail since I came to this tower. You don’t really have that big a thing for ladies underwear do you? I mean hey, if you do no judgement here, just get your own dude.”.

Bucky looked down at her for a minute, his gaze turning damn near predatory, and Darcy had the distinct impression that she had fallen into some sort of trap (which, knowing of The Winter Soldier wasn’t outside her realm of possibility), “Well doll,” he drawled in that edible Brooklyn accent of his, “now that you mention it I do. Especially when it comes to lingerie fashioned after my own old uniform. Have to admit I’ve been wanting you to model it for me for some months now”.

Darcy was fairly certain her brain had finally broken. The James Barnes was not standing in front of her in fucking Stark Tower of all places, practically propositioning her. “I, uhm, what?” she said, cheeks beginning to resemble her cherry red sweater.

Bucky only laughed, using his arm to bring her flush against his body “Will you model it for me? I’d love to see what it looks like on you. Although I will admit that I’m even more interested in seeing what it looks like off of you, on my bedroom floor. But I was raised in the thirties, you know, I have to treat a lady right. Would you settle for dinner and the promise of future modelling opportunities?”.

Darcy, having finally regained her speech capabilities, brought herself up to his ear and whispered an affirmative that had even the great Winter Sexbot blushing.

As a newly married woman, Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes was completely and incandescently happy. This may be down to the honeymoon on one of the many private islands owned by one Tony Stark, or the many orgasms her new husband had managed to pull out of her. Darcy wasn’t one to dwell.

[sadachmesarthim]

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it. 

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis​ !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands) 

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!! 

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky. 

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up. 

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another. 

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia. 

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future. 

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting. 

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately. 

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything. 

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing. 

Steve saw it as devotion. 

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased. 

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous  - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset. 

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew. 

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service. 

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won. 

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”  

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.” 

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.” 

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt. 

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes. 

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately. 

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion. 

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage. 

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place. 

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts. 

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved. 

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time. 

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again. 

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom. 

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him. 

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time. 

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour. 

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway. 

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve. 

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him. 

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact. 

Bucky knew better. 

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it. 

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people. 

Bucky was fucked. 

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home. 

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all. 

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again. 

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back. 

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear. 

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs. 

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him. 

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything. 

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help.  No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency. 

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him. 

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow. 

If he did, he'd get rewarded. 

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.  

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem. 

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one. 

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried. 

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation. 

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything. 

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him. 

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years? 

Bucky didn't know anymore. 

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all. 

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before. 

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you." 

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right? 

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random. 

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell. 

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed. 

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far. 

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise. 

They went entirely unused. 

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve. 

And breakfast now, apparently. 

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve. 

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe. 

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters. 

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit. 

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody. 

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe. 

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him. 

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking. 

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing. 

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky. 

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

[catboyroycebracket]

royce bracket ............ i wanna type up a bunch of royce and red parallels/opposites ive noticed and talked about w friends. im going to type up a bunch of other things too tho i like going off on tangents!!!!

royce and red are both disillusioned with the utopian cloudbank and what it has to offer. theyve both reached the peak of their careers and both want a change of scenery (red’s “think ill go where it suits me, moving out to the country” and royces Actual Moving Out to the strange outskirts of town, fairview). (reds music and concerts have been popular for Years Straight. royce might actually be past the height of his career? either way.) theyre both Very Wary of the city itself and they both value privacy immensely: they both did not cite why they chose their selections. i believe theyre the only characters mentioned in game to have declined giving their reasoning.

royce is calm always. red is Very Angry about her current circumstance, and seems to Usually be of that nature (according to her husband.)

royce is very argumentative, and believes his views to be superior (seen best in his camerata memos). similarly, red is always the one to decide whats best for herself, though she isnt as unhinged (for lack of better word) as royce. i wouldnt quite call royce unhinged in general? he is obsessive and thorough and has a strange moral code but absolutely doesnt fall into the evil scientist cookie cut. i think his character’s emphasis on his loneliness (or lack of loneliness in his absurdly lonely situation) makes his bizarre morals more like..... offhand. like hes so so so into his work that thats secondary, and doesnt matter at the moment.

royce is a recluse. he moved to live in an unfinished, experimental part of the town that appears to not have any other inhabitants. mentions that the commute to where he lives is “less fortunate” for grant. red is the opposite, she lives in the very heart of the town, the most popular residential district.

royce’s family name appears to hold a Lot of power in the city; the admin office is set up as part of bracket towers. all votes are tallied there. the towers themselves are noted to be Very Very old, its unlikely they were named for royce specifically. royce and red are Both very well known, but for different reasons: royce for some unexplored family connection, and red for her work. red is beloved by the citizens. royce is somewhat unknown by them. royce being born into an influential family then finding his meticulously crafted work to be unnoticed would definitely add a layer of explanation to why he just Up And Left When He Became Obsessed With The Transistor.

they both love the city very very very much. royce loves its inner workings and the way its made. he loves the city more than he loves its people (though he does love a select few people): he seems Completely Fine with existing in an emptied town. he only appears to be upset over his friends’ deaths and not anybody elses. he does not care at all about reds death if he wins. red loves the people of the city more than she loves the city itself. shes Absolutely terrified of everyone being gone in her text responses, and when it comes down to it, does not want to live alone in the city.

royce also seems somewhat fine with mass surveillance according to his snapshot memo?? versus red in she shines makes a Very clear statement about how strange it is she (the city) is always watching (“she will keep us in her sights / we never mind her diligence, watching us all lie awake”)

lucie sent this yesterday which blew my mind:

in the function files, “retirement” is always the cameratas coverup for their assassinations. disappearances are always equated with retirement. im Certain retirement is just death. 40+ appears to be considered “retirement age” too, and royce is almost in his 40s. grant is mentioned as being unusually old despite being only middle aged. i think royce the Tired engineer who doesnt let himself get attached to his work was absolutely considered like. on his way to retirement. where death is something you choose for yourself when you consider your work done, in a town where you have immense control over What your work is, but no control over the work itselfs impact or importance... i think instead of engaging with that in any capacity he instead took to obsessively studying the transistor instead, though. he wanted more control!! he wanted permanence and a more rigid form of change!! he wanted to love his work.

in the “every main character in transistor loses their biggest love” train of thought (with red losing her husband, mansistor losing his wife, sybil losing her chance at love, grant losing the city he loved, his lifes work, and asher losing his husband) royce’s biggest love is the transistor itself, as well as what it symbolizes. its a Priceless allpowerful all knowing key to the city, of Course the obsessive engineer would want to study it and mess around with it. the transistor symbolizes a unique power hes always wanted; a promise that the changes made with it could be more permanent.

royce and reds relationship with death is also insanely interesting. red has nothing to live for if her beloved city and husband are gone. some of her lyrics contain a longing for the country and other such themes, “if i should choose to rise im still descending” comes to mind. royce says he “always wanted to know what its like in there, so either way... i win” .. he appears to have no issue with being integrated. HOWEVER that line is said in his like second or third phase, when you hit his last phase he appears Much more desperate and against the idea of being integrated: he calls upon his friends’ names, repeats a phrase over and over to calm himself, and ultimately despairs when defeated. his death animation is extremely interesting: he never stops reaching for his transistor even after it completely fizzles away.

he also calls cloudbank HIS town:

this guy loves things with a burning passion and im just. i think hes interesting. red and royce Both love things extremely passionately, pouring themselves into their work. of Course the games final conflict is city-as-a-constructed-monolith lover versus city-as-a-place-for-people lover

[alias-b]

Nothing Lasts Forever.

Summary. The town of Derry changes people. Sends them running away. What it draws in is arguably worse. Humans create the hate and evil monsters come to feed off of. Eleanor Baker knew that well at a young age when she stumbled upon a painted figure in the distance. Pennywise never forgot the girl without fear. It’s possible that they haunted each other.

AN: I take no responsibility for this. Me flexing some horror and hopelessness bc I have nothing left to lose here. Wrote this to work through some things and sorta in love with it. TW: Should be obvious. Trauma. CSA mention. Abuse. S*xual references. G*re. S*icidal thoughts.  Death. Pennywise F*cks and it’s canon. Sorry, Mr. King.

Pennywise x OC Eleanor Baker ~ Also on my ao3

   They say she saw It first.

   They say she smelled the circus. Sugary sweet and the rusting of metal.

   They say she heard the bells toll soft. Once. Twice for her.

   They say she felt no fear.

   A branch cracked under pristine shoes, distracting a clown in the midst of hunt. The prey; small and blue eyed, barely five years old, ran into safe arms where their family set up camp for a weekend by the lake. 

   Body twisting around, It saw her last. Six years old. Curious green eyes shimmered even under grey skies. Pigtails. Feet behind her, father was hunched over to change a tire with mother beckoning from the window. Pulled over to the side of the road near a Derry forest. The Baker family. Well known and beloved because they had money.

   “Eleanor. You’ll ruin your new shoes. We can’t be late for your recital. It’s going to rain!” Mother’s voice went under heard. Leaves rustled while the clown made a path to slink toward her. Her lips parted, eyes fixated and unblinking. Yellow eyes faded to baby blue like the pretty jewels her mother wore. Safe.

   They were face to face. Drool dripped to hit her once untouched shoes. Those bejeweled eyes surged from that delicate blue back to a hungry orange, glowing brighter and yet he smelled nothing. 

   She had no scent. No fear. A deep, wide nothing. Vast as the ocean could reach. There was no advancing, no will to bring forth the deadlights. She’d probably think they were pretty stars watching over her. Cinderella wishing for a fairy godmother and a prince to whisk her away. He could only watch her make an utter fool of him. Somehow that charmed.

   “Eleanor, now!” Came the shout from her father. A drop of red emerged from the trees. Shiny and terrible. “Where did you get that?”

   A red balloon skimmed against the breeze.

   “From the clown.” She said, getting into the car. “He gave it to me.”

   “Enough playing around, Nell.” Father pressed her inside. The grip was lost along the tangled string. That spot of blood floated up toward the endless sky. Became a floating star too. She wished to float with it. 

   Eleanor danced her little heart out. Prima Ballerina in the making. Perfection was not everything, it was the only thing. She gazed into the audience beyond the balmy stage lights. Rows and rows of orange eyes. Glowing into her. No fear to be cast. Not for any of them. This world didn’t deserve it.

   She saw It again that same week. When they attended a big family reunion. Picnic and all. And her uncle pulled her into the closet full of coats and old board games that were gathering dust. He called this a game too. A secret game. 

   After he’d decided the game was over, a pang snatched his heart to squeeze. Gushing. Eleanor saw those glowing eyes from the shadows. Thought for a moment it was the old cat who roamed the grounds.

   Her uncle asked for help with no breaths left. Tore her frilly dress clutching at her. Hit the hardwood with a finishing crack. Blood pooled.

   Nell didn’t want it to stain her shoes or Mother would be upset.

   That white face bent down toward her. Spine curving to push out against skin. Utterly inhuman.

   “Can you smell the circus, Nelly?” Painted lips full of clustering teeth rumbled. She blinked. White cheeks threatened to tear open with the grin curling.

   “Yes.”

   Little, pretty bells chimed in the ruffles of his garment as he laughed. Soft and sweeter than any sound in this world.

   "Who are you?"

   "Pennywise. The dancing clown." He caught her looking at the body behind his feet.

   Big eyes full and empty.

   “Oh, don’t worry about him, he won’t float.” The clown paused. “You’re a little wonder, aren’t you?”

   She said nothing to that.

   “Go on, grow and see if the world devours you. Tumble back to the weeds where I'll find you again.” His own curiosity was a growing sickness. This fragile human. Unbreakable. 

   The thing about Pennywise was he never considered himself the villain. He only came to feed when that evil and hatred humans brought this world was potent. Natural order. Clockwork. Wolves feed on sheep. The worlds spun on.

   Predators tore into prey, he wouldn’t apologize for that. He didn’t create the hatred, just fed from it. Didn't stop it either. Little dash of fear did a body good. Gave it a sweeter taste.

   Fear was painfully human. A trait that tore us open to display the soft underbelly because it betrayed us down to the core. Granted us something to overcome. A test of endurance. Truly let our true colors pour fresh and obscene. Beautiful. Even when it overcame.

   Pennywise gave her head a pat, leaned down to whisper into her ear.

   “I see into your blackest heart of hearts, Nelly, deep down you’ll know. You'll always know.”

   The door opened. Tiny footsteps away from the dark and the figure there always watching her. Like the stars above in a black sky.

   “You’ll know.”

   Eleanor walked downstairs. Out into the sunny day full of festivities and family. Asked her aunt for another piece of cake. Frosted with yellow buttercream flowers. They discovered her uncle in that closet at the same time the flies found him too.

   They found the cloth clutched into his meaty, stiff hand and began to ask questions. She didn’t want to talk about the secret games he played when she was in that house. They sent a bolt of thunder rattling into her brain. Unraveled the synapses.

   Her mother burned the cloth. Vowed to never speak of it in hopes she would forget. Children forgot things all the time.

   Nell never forgot. Not for a moment. Not her uncle or her festering relatives who seemed to easily put her in the back of their memories.

   She wanted them to always remember too. If anything, they owed her that much.

   The pictures her mind fleshed out with crayons were not what children should be drawing. Twisted bodies sometimes. Other days, it was those eyes. Molten lava. Mother and father decided this wasn’t something they could deal with. Seeing her looking so still and motionless around the house like a ghost was too much. Knowing they failed their daughter was just too much. A lock clicked.

   They put her in a place that watched over mistakes of all ages from rich families. Paid it well. They told Eleanor it wasn’t her fault and yet, she was the one locked away in a tower for it. She was the one ignored and doped up.

   Ten years and she gave them nothing. Years of homeschooling. Counseling. Medications. Years of sticking her tongue out to swear she’d swallowed her pills. Years of giving them nothing. No laughter or tears. She never hurt a fly and she was the monster.

   Sometimes, it was easier to become the monster they wanted, she supposed.

   Eleanor got out and married the first man who smiled at her. Called her pretty. Just to be away from mother and father. They’d rot in the weeds soon enough. The rest of her family dwindled. Terrible accidents. She vowed to never reproduce to spite them.

   Husband played games too when dinner wasn’t just right or when she dressed just a little against his wishes. Seven miscarriages. Too many broken promises. A car accident pulled his body apart. Left her with some money to return home. 

   Mother and father needed her now, sick and dying in their lavish beds. Life always went on in Derry. Father went still snug in his tomb a month later. Few more weeks and mother’s harsh insults became apologies.

   This girl she ignored was all she had left.

   “Nell, I hope you can forgive us.” Her mother croaked one day.

   “You’re free to do that, mama.” She’d turned and came to sit on the bed.

   “Do what, my dear?”

   “Hope.” Eleanor tucked some brittle hair from mother’s face. Made room for the pillow she pushed into place. Eight minutes and it was over. Twenty seven years and members of her family dropped like flies. She told herself it was a curse. Or fate.

   Bloodlines dying had never been so beautiful. Not built to last forever. Not at all. There was justice in that much.

   Both Eleanor’s parents became ashes in two ornate urns. She drove them out to the Barrens and poured them into the festering waters. Stinking of Derry’s rotten bowels. Wind swept. Picking up green and brown leaves. Wading the waters to give them some appearance of peace.

   Nell didn’t smell the stink of death. She smelt the circus. Hot buttery popcorn and cotton candy. Twang of metal from the old, rusted rides whirling all directions. A child’s laughter echoed out from the giant pipe ahead. Covered in sludge and moss. 

   She followed the lively sounds. Enticed. No long holding to this world. Another one awaited. It always had. Marked with two glowing orange eyes.

   Reminded her of the lights twinkling every Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns you couldn’t blow out before midnight because it was against the rules and would bring you bad luck.

   Through watery rot and dead leaves, Nell went into the pipes. Caught glimmers of light between cracks. Felt her way. Heard the uttering of the seven children she lost beckoning her home.

   Down.

   Down.

   Down.

   Ruined her clothes in the trance. Clawing for more because the world couldn’t hope to deliver. Into a massive nest with a skylight. Candlelight danced. She heard the trill of a music box until the room came alive. Whirled from rust and rot to marble and gold.

   Prettier than her wedding day. A church with decorated pews of red taffeta. White roses hanging from every corner. Petals crying into the cherry wood floors.

   A man smiled at her who wasn’t Husband. Sharp, brooding face. Swept brown locks slicked like Clark Gable. Pink lips curled and crystalline eyes gave a twinkle. A white suit and one red rose at his breast.

   She came to him when he reached. Body heavier because a dress dragged behind her. Full skirt of those same delicate white roses. Tight bodice that twinkled under candlelight. Nell smiled too. Utterly lost and found all at once in this room that smelled like decadent caramel apples. 

   A gloved hand curled into hers.

   “Am I dead?” She asked.

   “Oh, yes. For twenty seven years now. You wandered the Earth. But, you're home now.” That voice. All shivers. Chilling until the candles started to snuff out. “That was not life, Nelly. You existed by a thread.”

   “Nelly.” She mused in her deepest dream of dreams. The hate and the neglect and the sheer evil brought by humans who were supposed love and protect instead tore her soul far asunder.

   The man leaned in near her hair. Inhaled.

   “Nothing. Even still.” He recounted the memories. All those times he tried and failed to devour her. “Little wonder.”

   "Pennywise." She puffed, barely audible.

   “I watched you dance. All those years. You can dance down here too in the dark."

   Nell realized as he brought her out for a romantic spin. She’d been seeking him out all her life. All the decay and twisting vines in her soul. Begging to just cross over and stop this pain. But, he wouldn’t finish it because she had no fear. So she danced until the room began to peel. He wiped his cheek on one sleeve. Peachy makeup smeared the fabric to display that red smile upon white skin. 

   She pushed off him. Watched blood rain and melt the rest of it away. This place. A nest. A stomach. A pile of trash and metal twisted up toward the sky. Gouging. Figures floating around it. Waiting. Sleeping soundly because evil couldn’t touch them anymore. At the very least. They fueled something brand new.

   No cry. No scream. Nell succumbed. Stumbling back into a worn mattress as the clown crawled up toward her at some inhuman speed. Slapped his hands on either side of her head. They just breathed.

   Existed together in one space.

   Sometimes good and bravery didn’t blossom from overcoming fear. Sometimes you still wanted to die because enduring a lifelong ache was not growth. It just hurt. There was power in it, but it fucking ached.

   It burned. Plenty of things in her life burned. The scorn of her parents. Her uncle's games. The rotten nurses tossing her around. Husband's hands indenting skin.

   But, Pennywise didn’t. He just showed up to watch the fires grow hot and breathless into a black sky. The terrible view was still a breathtaking thing. Something shattering to become a supernova. Rebirth.

   Enduring pain was worth it. That sick curiosity that there was something more to life. It was worth it. So, fight. Endure. Ache. Be human while you have the chance in an inhuman world because it needs you.

   Gloves opened her dress. Tore layers of tulle and chiffon. Slashed silk. Hands pressed against his chest. Not pushing or pulling. Just holding. Shifting over thick, stitched cotton. Ruffles swayed. She felt a heart beat so hard there under her palm.

   He was alive. Something brand new. Not of this world.

   “Am I like you?” She begged finally. Years of searching and asking why. He stopped to see her green eyes. Glowered. One blue, one orange.

   “Not yet.” Was the truest answer he could form. Fingers gripped his fabric sleeves. Twisted just to hold onto something tangible for the first time in all her existence. Alive at last in this place. Water droplets echoed distantly. “You cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

   Except love, she thought. Except desire.

   Pennywise seemed to hear it even still. Felt the truth of it carve out his heart that was still beating powerfully. Profoundly.

   Something flayed her open. Pushed inside. Made her moan deliciously until two gloved fingers touched her mouth. Bodies connecting. Moving together.

   There were hands everywhere. Stroking soft caresses up and down her naked flesh. It felt like a million little pieces of candlelight were swirling up her body. Those same orbs that had been following her around for too many years shined behind his eyes. Resonated. Beautiful.

   She made out parts of him between thumps. Orange hair. Pristine paint. His mouth on her skin. A heart that was pumping vigorously. Low rumbling growls. Nell felt she’d been starved all her life and was finally feeding. Finally letting the ache flood out that she’d held onto for too long. Finally alive. Feeling. Deep down and drawing in it.

   Her voice came to beg for more of him. Hands grasping to touch him back. To delve into this earth and just feel. He touched her everywhere. Lips and neck. Down her breasts. Between spread legs.

   The combined sensations made her cry out for him to never stop. A gloved hand on her jaw brought their eyes together. Hot, wet touch. Boiling. The peak shattered them both. Nell fell to shuddering pieces. Curved up. Moaning and shameless. Weight fell into her body so lips could touch her own. Once. Just once while they were warm.

   Pennywise lifted off fully to see her eyes. Inhaled again and got what he’d sought too. Years and it was finally there.

   Those green eyes glimmered at him. A waft of sweet candied apples bubbled with heat. Fear. Clear as a crystal, dewy morning. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

   There was finally something found that could be lost. Something she sought out and held and hoped for.

   And the fear of losing it was almost too much to bear.

   One gloved finger caught a tear that trickled out from the corner of her eyes.

   “Please.” She said, unable to find much else. Like she wanted him and nothing else for the rest of these long days. Do it. Just do it. Nell’s hand lifted. Gentle fingers drew lines along his face. "Pennywise. Please."

   It was a soft prayer.

   He lunged down. Sunk teeth into her tender neck. Tore the scream out before she could hope to give it. Nell choked there. Made an odd sound like she was laughing. It bubbled. Claws grew out from those gloves. Shoved forth into her raging heart. 

   A squelch.

   Her lips were still upturned when it was done. Green eyes pointed on him. Peaceful and bloodied. Naked under the moonlight. Dripping rubies.

   He tossed his head back and wailed. Teeth sharp and bared. Bloodied. Lost. A shattering sound that bent time and space apart. Pennywise plucked her up. Climbed high and vast to the very top of the twisting pile. Watched the dead children float like little falling stars. Something to make wishes upon. Peaceful for only a second in this life.

   He placed her there in a sheer drape. Closed her eyes. Let the deadlights swelter above them. Spinning all directions. 

   A scar thickened.

   Three days passed. The deadlights danced high and wide. Fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. The world spun on a new axis. Pennywise sat below upon his stage. Curved over in wait. Marble statue. 

   A low rumble like a purr erupted. Dainty feet came to him with a newfound grace. Little dancer. Deadly ballerina all porcelain and blushed. Blood red shoes made soft taps across the stage.

   A white hand touched his shoulder. His little wonder. Bells tolled distantly three times.

   “Can you smell the circus?” Her voice poured white hot. Purring louder so he'd feel it vibrate his own chest.

   Lips curled wide. Split. Pennywise rose to see her in the light. Perfection. Those green eyes shimmering like emeralds. Haunted. Totally alive and willing.

   “Yes.” He hissed. Cupping her face to see the angles. Not ruining the permanent brushstrokes that came with her rebirth. “Yes, I do.” A bond struck.

   I do. I promise. We'll float. Always.

   Nell smiled to match him. Totally and irrevocably his equal. A pulse of light drew them together. She granted him a single kiss, tasting candied. A new horror in this world hungry for the evil it would always bring.

   “We were built to last forever.”

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

The Angel Among Us (Cordelia X reader) Part 1

(This chapter has been rewritten/ edited since original post)

General Notice: I’m trying to get more works out during this time that is rough for all of us. That being said I am trying to keep it’s quality up.

This is technically a prequel to Fallen Angel (Work in progress), however it can be read as a stand alone series.

Summary:

If your reading as a stand alone: A witch heads back to Miss Robichaux's 20 years after she left in hopes of being a teacher there. The only problem is she hasn’t aged a day.

If your from Fallen Angel: The event’s leading up to Y/N joining Michael and the Cooperative. 

Warnings: N/A

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4(will be added when done)

It had been years since you left Miss Robichaux's academy or spoken to your best friend from that place. How long it had been exactly was something you were unsure of. It felt like days, but it could have been decades. The school's exterior hadn't aged a day since you first stepped into that academy for extraordinary young ladies. To be fair, neither had you.

The two-story building towered over you as it did at 18. You tried to move on from those days alas your memory of the place remained in your stagnant life. You had ambitions once, now unsure of what they were. You weren't necessarily from New Orleans, but your ancestry was from Salem or at least from what the letter your mother sent you explaining your oddities.

Years on and you stood in front of the cast iron gates just as petrified as you were on your first day. You had nothing to lose except your old way of thinking. Now, there was her. You wouldn't expect someone to accept you as you are. There was no way to explain what has become of you because nothing has, you were the same person you were when you exited her life.

The chuckles of girls playing in the yard filled your ears on the fine summer's day. Break time, you thought to yourself as you tugged your cardigan closer to her frame. You used to spend all your free time in the greenhouse with your friend. Potions weren't your forte, but she loved it so acted like you did...for her. It wasn't until recently that you learned to appreciate the natural science of it.

Your friend was your main reason for your resurgence into the world of magic. Her passion to teach the next generation of witches fuelled your pilgrimage of discovery of the world. To teach the wonderous world of extraordinary beings to the youth of today. You excelled in the history of Salem witches and your passion extended across other magical beings. The two of you used to joke that after years you would be the only two to remain behind. You wished for nothing more than to be with her for all eternity. Some dreams never go as they're planned. Namely, her husband, Hank Foxx. It could have been because you spent years surrounded by women, but that man didn't sit right with you. Nor did he to your friends Mother, one of the few things you got on with that woman about.

Her mother was a vile woman, the supreme witch since she was 18. She rarely took interest in the coven unless it was for self-benefit. She was a distant mother to her daughter, shipping her off to the school at the early age of 7. Your friend sought out a mother figure elsewhere, finding it in Myrtle Snow who ended up working for the council and doing the work the supreme refused to do. Her mother, Fiona, was long since dead, four years to be exact. Her title ironically passed down to her daughter. The worlds changed since your school days. You'd heard the news from your local sources, discovering Fiona's death when news of witches was broadcasted to the world. There was no way in hell Fiona would allow that. You were tempted to go to the opening, say hello to your old friend. But what would you say? It's been years. You left her all alone for years. How were you going to forgive yourself?

With a flick of the wrist, the gates were open. Your heart pounded to the beat of your footsteps. Your breath stilled when you knocked on the door. Maybe this was a mistake, you contemplated leaving. No one was answering. It was probably for the best.

The truth was years ago you had the chance to return but you refused. The only reason you were here now was for purely selfish reasons. The balance of good and bad had shifted and in your trail to correct the scale, you wound up in a lot of trouble. You had nowhere to go. Your home was no longer your own and you were on were on the run.

You sighed, turning around, and heading down the concrete path. The iron gate closed before you could leave. Your ears register a voice a second later. You spun around to be greeted by a young woman. She was short (but compared to you most women where) with long straight brown hair.

"Good, I got your attention, I thought you were going to escape," the woman joked. You chuckled awkwardly in response. Now that you were leaving, you did not really want to be there. "You knocked on the school's door?"

"-Yeah." You didn't even imagine the possibility of it not being- of course, it wouldn't be her. She was supreme now, she had better things to do than answering the school's door. "Yeah, sorry. I'm slighting out of it, nerves and all."

"It's alright. Most girls are nervous when they first arrive."

You chuckled once again, awkwardly, "I bet."

The woman let you inside telling you she would lead you to the Headmistress to fill out all the paperwork.

"Crap, I forgot she's in a meeting right now," the young woman said. "And I have to teach a class in a minute."

"You're a teacher?" The woman was used to the question from how young she was. "What age range are you teaching?"

"Right now, Pre-teen years. They're usually the worst to deal with."

"I bet. I could sit in and watch you teach them while we wait for Cordelia. Hell, you might be able to teach me something." Zoe hadn't mentioned the Supreme's name, so she assumed you knew it from the television segment a while back.

"If it doesn't bother you."

"It's no problem at all."

The woman led you to the kitchen dining room where a bunch of restless girls were mucking about. They all stilled, taking their seats, a few still mucking about as they did so. All the girls stared at you, one asking why you were so tall. You laughed, saying "Platforms" showing your four-inch platforms that were hidden by your floor-length skirt before you stole one of the free seats moving it out of the way so the woman could teach.

As the lesson when on you noticed one of the girls was struggling with her work. You noticed how she seemed to be too shy to ask for help. The girl beside her flying head and boasting about her skills, most likely bringing the girl down (unintentionally), in the process. You stood up and quietly as to not disturb the class and moved over to the girl.

"Hi, my name's Y/N. What's yours?" You asked her quietly.

"Emily," she whispered.

"Nice to meet you, Emily. Do you need any help with your work?" She shook her head. "Can I help you with your work?" She looked at you hesitantly then up to Ms who was too busy to notice you had moved over to the girl.

"If you want."

"How about you tell me what you're learning?" You started with. She shrugged. "What's the title of your worksheet?"

"Types of Magic?"

"Yes, that's correct. Now, what are the two main types of magic?" She remained quiet. "Clue: what's above you?"

"A roof?"

You chuckled, "Technically, that is right, but I meant that-" you point to the light globe.

"Oh, a light. Light and dark!" She got excited, raising her voice from a whisper. This caught the attention of the teacher.

"Yes, that's correct. All magic users fall into one of those two. Us witches fall into the light magic, even the darkest, most evil witch still uses light magic. There are others who would also fall into this side such as angels."

"Angels exist?"

"Supposedly. I've never met one," You said. "Even though there is light and dark magic, the purpose a person uses it for can differ. You know who I mentioned a witch using her light magic for evil?" Emily nodded. "She would be using-"

You went on explaining to Emily. A few of the girls around her joined in listening to you explain the course to her. You added pointers their teacher hadn't mentioned and some you picked up from your years of living a magic-filled life. You only noticed you had stolen the attention of all the girls when the others began asking you questions. The teacher was gone from where you last saw her. You asked the girl what the teacher's name was. You had forgotten to ask earlier.

"I'm so sorry Zoe, I didn't mean to take over your class," you said when you finally spotted her. "I was only trying to help Em with her work."

"Em?" Emily repeated.

"I give all my friends and family nicknames. I didn't think-" She leapt up and gave your waist a hug before you got another word in. She repeated the word friend back to you excited by the prospect of gaining a new friend. You gathered she was new or had a hard time with people since she found the idea of you being her friend exciting. You chuckled, rustling her hair with your hand. "Okay, enough hugging. I better let you get back to class. I stole enough of your time."

"Actually, class is over," Zoe said.

"Oh~ I'm so-" You went to apologise when the woman cut you off.

"No, it's fine. It's better they understand the work then rushing ahead and then not knowing it correctly." She silently conferred that what you had said to them was correct. She would have interrupted, adding her two sense if something seemed off. The teacher found your allegory's to be helpful in explaining the content as well as refreshing.

"Zoe's right, it's better that they understand the work. One wrong preformed spell and it could be disastrous." You knew that voice anywhere. "I was informed that we had a new student, so I came down as soon as I-"

Your head perked up to look at the woman that owned your body and soul. Your eyes begged for her to recognise you, to pull you into her embrace. You smiled sweetly at her in the way only you could. She returned the gesture. Her face was warm and welcoming as ever but as she got a better look at you, you noticed the change in her expression. The shift was slight but noticeable solely because you sought it out. You pulled yourself away from Emily carefully. As soon as you were detached, you headed over to the headmistress offering your gloved hand to her.

"L/N." She accepted your offer of a handshake. Her grip was strong excuding confidence dissimilar to the woman you left behind years prior. You kept a natural level of eye contact to not seem suspicious. Giving your last name was a test. You didn't want to scare her off immediately nor face the slap she will most likely give you when she puts the pieces together. "I was actually here to offer to be a teacher if you needed one," you said. "I know you had a large incline of students recently as well as limited staff. I don't know if that has since changed. Even if you just need someone to mark homework or assessments, I don't mind. I have all the credentials I would need for a normal teaching job along with working with children's card. Everything's in my satchel." You didn't find in necessary to mention the repercussions of not being accepted. Stating your problems wasn't your way. They were yours, there was no need to share.

"We can discuss this further in my office." Cordelia gestured into the hallway. You waved bye to the girls and said goodbye to Zoe.

Before Cordelia left Zoe pulled her aside. She noticed the facial expression shift too.

"You alright Cordelia?"

"Yeah," She whispered back to her friend. "She looks like a friend, I had years back."

"She could be a relative. Sister, daughter, cousin-"

"She had no living family," Cordelia told Zoe. "The girl's too old to be a daughter." She sighed, "It's fine, it's a freaky coincidence."

"You don't need to hire her."

"It would be helpful to have some extra help around here. She seemed to be great with the younger ones and we know how much of a feat that is." They both chuckled. "I shouldn't keep her waiting."

Cordelia kept eyeing you occasionally when talking to Zoe. You gathered she was talking about you, but it wasn't your place to listen. It's not nice to eavesdrop.

You remained quiet, listening for her to talk as the two of you headed to her office. Upstairs, first room on the right, just as you remembered. "As you know, that is Zoe. We had another teacher but unfortunately, we lost her. You will occasionally see an older woman here named Myrtle; she doesn't teach the students, but she helps me with council work." You smiled knowing Myrtle was here and still a part of the council.

Cordelia opened her office allowing you to walk in first. You noticed the familiar redhead in the corner of Cordelia's office drinking. Cordelia told you to take a seat at her desk while she got the paperwork ready. You pulled out your documentation placing it on the table before drawing your attention to the older woman behind you. Myrtle was talking to Cordelia about something irrelevant to you when she stopped mid-sentence, something you had never seen her do.

Cordelia cleared her throat, earning your attention. You spun around slowly. Cordelia told you that your documentation would not be relevant since they had an unorthodox away of job selecting. The past isn't relevant to her as long as you weren't her to bring harm to her girls. You insisted she took a look to ease your mind and to make her away of your qualifications.

"Now Y/N-" She wasn't meant to say that. She quickly went to cover it up, "Sorry I mean-" She picked up your papers searching your name on them.

"No, you were right." You adjusted the wire framed glasses on your face. One of the few new things about you. "Y/N M/N L/N."

"Is Y/N a family name?" Cordelia asked. "Like how some men name their son's the same name but call them junior."

"I don't believe so," You said, acting oblivious. You already came off strong demanding a job. "I don't have much of a family."

Cordelia's eyes widened. It couldn't be?

"Can I see your ID?"

"Sure." You fish through your bag pulling out a worn-down purse that she gifted to you years ago. Cordelia went to say something but held herself back, instead looking over to Myrtle with a questioning look. The oldest woman in the room shared the same level of confusion. "I should warn you; I apparently look a lot younger than my age."

You handed over your card to Cordelia.

"Y/n, what had you want to become a teacher?"

"Well, that's a tough question. I mean, where to begin?" You laughed. "I've always had a knack for the history of the Salem coven and it transformed into a fascination with magic in general. I guess I want to put my knowledge to good use. There's no point allowing it to waste away up here and recording it down in a book never sounded as appealing as verbally communicating it." Cordelia nodded along keeping a hold of your identification. "One of my friends used to joke that we'd both be here teaching together. Things didn't go as planned."

"They never do." Cordelia said. "I hope you don't mind but I need a secondary opinion on your resume." She ushered over Myrtle and the two had a quick conversation. She didn't believe you, she had to be asking about if it was possible, Myrtle would probably suggested plastic surgery as a possibility as to your appearance or some other thing you couldn't do.

"Could she have done Tempus Infinituum or something similar? It would explain why I- we haven't heard anything from her." The two look at you sat there twiddling your thumbs.

You always assumed your ageless appearance was some genetic thing or something to do with your magic. You're still trying to figure that out and was hoping she could help you out with that, or someone here could. Obviously, that wasn't your purpose for coming back.

"Is it really you Y/N?"

You nodded. Her eyes teared up and a smile formed on her face. She shook her head not wanting to jump the gun or overstep her boundary. It had been years and she had no clue what you had been through. It would have to be hell in order for you to leave. The two of you were inseparable before you vanished.

"I can prove it. Ask me anything only I would know."

Your words were enough, the tale you told of your friend and how much of a history buff you were.

"I can do one better, give me your hand." She laid her hand out for you to grab. You didn't understand. "A lot has happened since you left, one being I got The Sight."

As soon as you heard that you grabbed her hand allowing the skin to skin contact to explain away everything it had to. It hit you a second later, you shouldn't have rushed it. There were things she didn't need to know that she may now have access too. She tore your glove from your hand allowing her fingers to slip between yours. She gasped watching your earlier twenties up until now flash through her mind.

She retracted from you, allowing herself a moment to get air in her lungs. "Y-y-you-" she stuttered. Her eyes flicked from you to her aunt. Shock covered her face. Her eyes settled on you and you expected her to say something about how this was unbelievable. "Why are your hands so cold?"

"What?" Not what you were expecting.

"You're freezing, I'm going to find you a blanket."

"You don't need to, I'm fine-" Her glare at you urged you to shut you up quickly. She used to do the same thing back in the day. "I'm serious, I'm always this cold. Why do you think I dress like this?"

You got up, following her down the corridor and up the stairs to a bedroom. You attempted to reason with her that you were fine, you were always ice cold which concerned her more. "That's not normal Y/N/N" 'Y/N/N?' You smiled upon hearing your nickname from long ago.

"You'll learn not a lot about me is-" You kidded.

"Sit down on the bed, I'm getting out the winter blankets."

"But it's summer-"

"And your freezing."

She headed into her closet only returning a few minutes later with the thickest blanket she owned. You were already dressed inappropriately for the weather, cloaked in long sleeved maxi length dress, thick woollen stockings, below the knee boots that were hidden by your dress. You also had a cardigan you removed upon entering the school grounds. Cordelia wrapped the blanket around before forcing you to lay down. You whined, using that you were wearing shoes as an excuse. She removed them, seeing how much big the sole was she asked, "How do you walk in these?"

"How do you walk in heels?"

"Touche."

The two of you started cackling. Soon you were swaddled up in a blanket, lying on what you assumed was Cordelia's bed telling stories and laughing at each other's misfortune like it was old times. You had learned the unfortunate events that led to her ex-husbands death. A witch hunter, you should have guessed.

"I missed you," Cordelia admitted. You remained quiet, wanting to say it back but not having the courage. Like the last time, you had seen her, her wedding. You, the maid of honour, left early. You knew you would have to explain it to her, but you couldn't. You didn't want to force your feelings onto her, that's why you never told her then and that's why you can't tell her you missed her now. You missed her more than she could ever believe. "I saw- I mean... I know. I know you miss me too." She moved closer to you, resting her head onto your shoulder. "I know you missed me too."

[betheflame]

Saving the Multiverse

A Fluff Fill for the @stevetonygames​.  Square: Multiverse Shenangians Capwolf + Everyone Lives in the Tower + Soulmates + Royalty AU + Superior Iron Man Universe: What If #3: What if the Avengers had Never Existed

“Your Majesty.” Jarvis cleared his throat and waited for Steve to turn from the weight bag.

“Yes, Jarvis?”

“King Anthony has requested your presence in the basement workshop I am not supposed to know about.”

Steve snorted. “What did he call it this time?”

“The Situation Room.” Jarvis sighed deeply and Steve started laughing. Nothing gave his husband more joy than winding up his valet and long-time right hand man, and nothing seemed to frustrate Jarvis more. 

“He’s been watching too much old American television again,” Steve laughed. “He must have gotten a hold of more the last time we visited Earth 199999. I’m on my way, Jarvis, don’t worry.”

“Your Majesty,” Jarvis replied, “if I may remind you that the Duke of Brooklyn and Lord Baltimore are expected for dinner, so please implore his majesty to be brief with whatever discovery he is going to share with you.”

“Sure, J,” Steve laughed again. “I’ll just rewrite my husband’s entire personality. But I hear you.”

Steve took off his boxing gloves and toweled off the sweat that had accumulated during his workout. He wound his way through the corridors of the Starklandia Palace and hit the panel in the library that led to Tony’s workshop. 

King Anthony Edouard Stark, King of the Iron Islands of Earth 6729, was the 27th Stark to sit on the Iron Throne. He was one of the first to do so with a common born soldier and the absolute first to do so with someone of the same sex and gender as himself. 

Some of his subjects had expressed… concerns when he declared Steven Grant Rogers of the Iron principality of Brooklyn to be his groom and fellow ruler, but Steven’s record as an excellent servant of the crown smoothed things quickly. 

As did Tony’s two best friends, Natalia and Virginia, working their way through every single organization and club in the Kingdom and doing the most intense charm offensive anyone had ever seen. The fact that Steve’s childhood best friend was the heir to the Brooklyn dukedom didn’t hurt either. 

“Hey baby, what’s the emergency?” Steve called as he entered Tony’s beloved lair. 

“I got a message from Inventor,” Tony replied. “His Thor heard of a universe where Thanos is threatening but there are no Avengers.” 

Steve’s knees nearly buckled. “No Avengers at all? In any iteration?”

Tony shook his head. “Inventor and Cap are, as you can imagine -”

“Fucking petrified,” Steve interrupted. 

“Language, Your Majesty,” Tony said with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Apologies to your delicate sensibilities,” Steve said. “They’re absolutely fucking petrified and probably shitting bricks.” 

Tony grinned and crossed the room to kiss his husband. “They’ll need all of us.”

Steve nodded and started doing calculations in his head. 

About five years previous, on Steve’s 35th birthday, Tony had called him into the workshop and shown him his present. 

“You invented what?”

“A way for us to travel between fixed spots in the multiverse,” Tony explained. “You said you always wanted to see the historic artists in other universes.”

“I did, in the same way that Bucky has always wanted a herd of unicorns to raise as his personal pets,” Steve replied. “Travel between the universes is metaphysically impossible.” 

“Not anymore,” Tony said and handed Steve a pile of clothing. “Go put these on. They’ll keep us invisible in the other universes so we don’t cause disturbances. Chop chop, handsome, we’re heading to watch Van Gogh’s pain dry in whatever universe you choose.”

Steve had been skeptical - how safe could it really be - but soon, the pair were hopping all over the universes. They soon let their best friends in on their secret power and traveling together became a favorite pastime of the group the citizens referred to as The Royal Family. There was the Duke of Brooklyn, James Barnes, and his partner Lord Baltimore, Samuel Wilson. Lady Virginia Potts, Duchess Natalia Romanova, Lord James Rhodes, Lord Clinton Barton, and others rounded out the group, who comprised the closest advisors and friends of the royal couple, as both had been orphaned at a young age. 

The travels were fun and playful - but then they’d started to meet versions of themselves. 

The first time was on Earth 1872, where Tony was a blacksmith and Steve was the sheriff and they told all of the locals that they weren’t together, but then the kings saw them sneaking off behind the barn. 

“Do you think that we’re together in a lot of universes?” Steve had asked later that night. “Do you think we’re similar people, I mean, that if you and I meet, we bicker and spar and fight but ultimately fall in love?”

“I’d like to,” Tony confessed. 

They mostly observed - especially that one universe they ended up in where Steve was a werewolf everyone called ‘Capwolf’ and Tony was a vampire and it all felt a little… farfetched - until they landed on Earth 199999 in New York City on the top of Avengers Tower in that Earth year 2012. 

“Who the fuck are you and why are you wearing Tony’s face?” A blond man with a bow quickly drawn asked. 

“I could ask the same question about why he is wearing mine,” Tony replied calmly, “but the answer is that we are from another part of the multiverse.”

“Impossible,” a bespectacled man said quietly. “That’s a metaphysical myth.”

“Myths are just things science hasn’t proven yet,” both Tonys said at the same time and the room froze. 

“I am King Anthony of the Iron Islands in Earth 6729, and this is my husband, King Steven,” Tony said calmly. 

“You know anyone named Targaryen?” The man with the bow asked, and Tony noted he had not stopped aiming it at him. 

“There’s a clan by that name that my family defeated centuries ago,” Tony said, “but there are none living.”

“Check for a chick named Daenerys,” Bow Man snorted and then looked at his Steve. “Those are characters from that show, Cap. This can’t be real. What do you want us to do?”

“Can you guys give us the room?” New York Steve answered instead. There was a brief argument from a few of the room’s inhabitants before they all left. When the room was empty, New York Tony gestured to the couches. 

“Get comfy, fellas, we may be here a while.”

As they four talked, they came to several agreements: one, the Tonys would work on establishing cross-universe ways of communicating so that they could share intel and the Steves could share strategic plans; two, codenames for all duplicate creatures would be necessary, so Earth 199999 chose ‘Inventor’ and ‘Cap��� and the kings went with their given titles; three, they would come to each other’s aid as often as possible. 

King Tony shared the technology of multiverse travel with Inventor and within months, they were all connecting universes together like never before. And it turns out, Steve’s question on that quiet night was correct - they were connected in every universe. Sometimes platonically, sometimes romantically, but always connected. When they fought, the universe was vulnerable. When they were in accord, the universe was strong. 

When one of them turned evil… 

Tony still had nightmares about their battle with Superior Iron Man. Steve would often find him in the lair, muttering to himself over holograms and computers and talking to Inventor or Engineer or Toni or one of his other selves about what they could do. The rest of their family met their versions as well  - there was always mischief about whenever the Duke of Brooklyn and Bucky Barnes got together. 

In the last five years of adventures, they’d seen universes where everyone was divided in dominant and subordinate, universes where instinctual mating trumped consent, universes where everyone had purple skin, universes where horses were in charge because they were deemed more intelligent than the humans. Steve’s favorite, however, was the ones where everyone had a soulmate. 

Earth 1493, for example, was where everyone had two soulmates - a platonic and a romantic. In that universe, Steve’s platonic was Bucky, and his romantic was Tony. Tony was platonically attached to Pepper, and Pepper and Bucky were romantically mated to each other. Steve and Bucky didn’t have super powers in that one, but Tony and Pepper still ran SI. They all had kids who grew up together - with Sam & Carol, and Rhodey & Nat, and Clint & Laura - and they’d met their counterparts at Tony and Steve’s 25th anniversary party. King Steven had cried over how beautiful everything was. King Tony had rolled his eyes affectionately and held his husband as he cried. 

“Steve, baby,” Tony said, interrupting Steve from his reverie. “I’ll go tell Pep that she and Harry have the kingdom, and you get everyone else?”

The other constant in the multiverse - besides Tony and Steve’s connection - was Thanos, the Mad Titan who was attempting to destroy each universe. He’d succeeded in far too many, and they’d learned the only ones with fighting chances are ones where the Avengers were present in some form. The idea that Thor had found one where there was no Avengers Academy, no Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, no Tsums, no Avengers at all, and they’d found out before Thanos had destroyed everything… 

“Avengers Assemble,” Steve said into the communication device the Engineer had concocted for them. 

It was time - once again - to save a universe.

[brideylee]

Chateau Quarantine

                 Sophia Coppola smokes a cigarette while she waits for an omelette she has no intention of eating.  It’s a gloomy marine layered morning, you can barely see across Sunset. She’s been in lock down for three weeks and while she normally loves the moody, brooding decadence of the Chateau Marmont, its elite solitude is giving her a bit too much time to reflect. She thinks about the concept of crying as she watches a long torso-ed model skinny dip in the pool from the penthouse. There are no rules anymore, not that there were many in the first place. The hotel was shuttered to the public as of three weeks ago, and those who were already there could stay indefinitely. Sophia lives alone in the tower suite with the three bedrooms and the wrap around porch, known by some as “the Deniro”, but Robert himself couldn’t tell you why. Any legends or gossip about the Chateau were just bread crumbs to keep the public hungry and mystified. The real Chateau for the privileged few who used it, was an unceremonious respite for excessive loneliness, addiction, and often not great sex. The Chateau had a reputation: look but don’t fuck. Everyone’s genitals were rendered useless from anti-depressants.

               She thought she would be filming by now. Her cast is stranded too, with little guidance other than “we’ll wait it out.” The film she wanted to make stars Hugh Grant and Ewan McGregor as two estranged brothers coming together for their father’s funeral. Iman was set to the play the mysterious woman who shows up at the funeral who they then realize was their father’s mistress. It was going to be a slow movie about the brothers coming to terms with their father’s death and equally so falling in love with the woman he hid from them. All this would be suggested through intimate long takes, and funny, stylish, improvised montages. Always subtle and romantic without the sap, this was the tight rope Sophia liked to balance on.  At the end of the movie, both brothers are mildly changed, but not entirely. She has a sweet spot for the immovability of people’s psyches, particularly men. 

Sophia watches impartially, as the naked model floats on her back in the calm pool. It is so cold and early to swim, is she on drugs or is everyone at this place even more numb than they think? She wondered if her film was too male, too disembodied from her personally to mean anything.  Tapping into the male gaze, was an ability she was born with. Her father’s point of view was all she interacted with as a kid, and the underside of his specialties became her focus: the lost parts of men when they are too weak to hold up the heavy crown of their egos, who they were when they could let themselves feel outside of their work. But given the state of the world, and the molasses nature of time during lock down, Sophia started to question if what she always found to be her strength was just simply trauma. Was her whole profession a way to resolve some genetic creative stifling that took place in the shadow of her dad? Surely her body of work contains more than that. It’s not all a selfish attempt at repair. Is any art not selfish? "Maybe I should make a different movie, something that everyones gonna like for once.” She thinks to herself.  Thank God, her goat cheese omelette has arrived.

             Later on, the gothic lobby is empty besides the cast of her film and the elegant model behind the reception desk standing like a hollow sculpture, frightened by the chaos that lurks outside. Ewan McGregor, drunk off of five Marmont Mules, is showing Hugh Grant an app that maps the stars and constellations. Ewan has gone on and on about a camping trip he took around Scotland and how amazing the stars were, but when pressed for details about where exactly he was or what he saw or what year he did this, he can’t seem to remember anything at all.But that doesn’t dampen his excitement about the app. “See, that, there is Orion’s belt!” Ewan enthusiastically points out, his cute smirk displaying his bottom row of sweet corn kernel teeth. Ewan just recently learned about the stars. Until the age of 47, Ewan had been referring to them as “night freckles.” Many think this is why he didn’t have a fun time acting in  Star Wars, space simply befuddled him. Hugh and Ewan are dressed exactly the same: navy blue beanie, black jeans, a tight blue thermal, and desert boots- the actor man uniform they give you after you play opposite Nicole Kidman or Renee Zellweger.

“That’s brilliant,” says Hugh Grant completely perplexed by the app and confused at Ewan’s rambling. Hugh sticks a handkerchief up his nostril with his pointer finger and wiggles it around somewhat violently. Iman clocks this with a blink of disgust, her silk, gold blouse  glistens with god-like royalty in the amber glow.  “Can you turn your face away? That’s how the virus is spreading.” Her voice is deep and she rarely uses it because it changes the direction of the wind and messes with the tides.  “Aw, fuck me. That’s right, isn’t it?” Hugh Grant turns away and starting blowing his nose and coughing obnoxiously. Hugh is acting like a resentful brat because he knows he wont be able to have Iman. He decides he’s gonna pick a fight with Sandra Bullock via face time later to blow off steam. Iman is thinking she was right all along, she should never have agreed to this. She was already sick of the “beanie twins”. 

Hugh had been rattling on about how the movie needed a sex scene or at least a sexy scene and went on to say that Sophia had some sort of block. Iman felt that both Ewan and Hugh, however innocently, were exploiting their acting roles to gain real life experience, and there was no way in hell, she was going to kiss either of them.  Her kiss would make them immortal and Iman knew their souls needed more lifetimes to grow. Plus, she liked the script the way it was- underwritten and open for interpretation. Her character is symbolic of the side of their dad they didn’t get to meet-  spiritual, graceful, embodied. It was a soulful choice not to show any nudity or sex, one that could lead Americans to try to use whats left of their iPhone stolen imaginations.

                Meanwhile Michael Cain, who was supposed to play the dead father, is staring at the beautiful Victorian tapestry hanging behind her. “It’s like it’s right out of the Cloister’s.” Michael says under his breath. Michael is sweet, Iman thinks as she watches him stare at the tapestry with wonder, his mouth agape, and a lil warm milk spilling out of his left eye. Iman and him have known each other for years and he always reminded her of her husband: his fierce devotion to his craft, his rigorous intellectuality that does a bad job hiding an animalistic sexuality. Both men contained so much and no one can handle a man like that besides a mystical siren like Iman. 

Hugh and Ewan’s chatter dies as their drinks empty. “If I were to be honest with myself…” Hugh begins. “Better later than never…” Michael Cain interrupts without cracking a smile,  a dryness a la Maggie Smith. In fact, fuck, this was Maggie Smith. No one had realized. Hugh winks at Michael/ Maggie and continues. “ I don’t think were going to be filming any time soon, folks. I think we are being held hostage a bit by Miss Coppola.” Ewan stares off with a thinking face like no one has  ever had a deeper thought before. “That is interesting to think about. There is some kind of bratty assumption that all this will fade away soon enough. And we’ll be back on set. But what if it’s not for another year or so?”  Ewan is really getting worked up “What if we live here for the rest of our lives!!” His eyes are big and dazzling, it’s like he’s thinking of the most ideal outcome for the rest of his life.

               Suddenly, Sophia joins them at the table. “There they are, my little hunchbacks!” This is what Sophia affectionately calls her actors, the origin is unknown. Sophia has a strange new confidence around her. Usually, when she walked into places, she would feel like a Nat Sherman cigarette, like only some select tall New Yorkers in the back would still appreciate her. “Hello, love! Someone slept well.” Maggie Smith as Michael Caine chirped. Even when Maggie-Michael said something sweet, it still felt like someone was aggressively tickling your ribcage. 

          “I have news.” Sophia sits down, and smiled large and toothy, a stark contrast to her usual chic, despondent stare,  a look only afforded  to artists born with trust funds. “We’re not making the movie.” Hugh taps the table. “Well, I believe I won that bet.” Ewan’s jaw drops, destroyed. “You mean we cant live here together forever?” He runs his hands through his hair, petrified. Iman is quiet, which can mean many different things and all things at once, she is eternally the glory of God, a forgotten pyramid at the bottom of the ocean that if unearthed would explode us into 5D ascension. 

 “We are making a better movie! A super hero movie!!” Sophia exclaims. Sophia gets up close in the faces of her cast, pitching them on her new idea. “It’ll be a real heroes journey- good guys versus evil! Fun CGI! Sexy starlets and fun on trend jokes!” She turns to Michael Maggie, her mouth inches away from their milky eye, and says- “And much much more!” Sophia climbs up on the table now. “The adults will love it, as well as the little ones!” She does an Irish jig and starts spinning around and then poses with her arms up as though at the end of a musical.  It was not fun to watch.  Iman cuts her off-“I don’t trust what is happening.This is not reality. This is delusion. A karmic spell.” The power of Iman’s words blows the power out of the Chateau, pipes burst, the fire alarm goes off, and Joel Madden of Good Charlotte in room 304 stops jerking off for a second. Sophia is still catching her breath from her presentation, her sweating, arms stretched to the ceiling. She gulps as her eyes meet Iman’s. “Why don’t you just write from my character’s point of view?” Iman says as softly as she can without causing chaos.   Sophia freezes. Her whole body calcifies and turns to ice, then crumbles onto the table. Ewan and Hugh watch in absolute horror as Iman drops some of the ice into her water. She knows she shouldn’t have said yes to this project and looks on lovingly at Michael/ Maggie who has dozed off. 

[gongju-juice]

5. Once Upon a Southern Night

Crescent City

Warnings: Mentions of slavery and Confederacy

New Orleans. Hot and humid as home. Sister city to Mobile. Walking down the steamy streets, it smelled like spicy seasoning and margaritas—sounded like jazz beats and rushing crowds. 

This year, Ash Wednesday fell incredibly late; March 10 to be exact. You never thought you would find yourself stumbling through New Orleans in the middle of Fat Tuesday—half-naked dancers screaming at your boyfriend from parade floats and indiscreet tourists flashing themselves as your family walked by. It was the most humiliating experience you ever felt, and all you could do is curse the Lost Cause soldiers who started the damn holiday in your home city in the first place.

The hospital was located smack in the middle of the old French Quarter where colonial buildings towered above the people, decorated in royal colored beads and winding lights. Nobody could drive the car through the crowd, so you had to get there by walking. You held your mom’s hand with your left, Jasper’s hand with your right.

“It’s never like this at home,” you explained to Jasper with a nervous laugh. “Did you know that the New Orleans mayor has to get permission from Mobile’s mayor every year to practice Mardi Gras?”

He looked down at you with his burning eyes. Since becoming aware of your family’s secret, he’d hardened himself to this emotionless being whose only concern was your safety. You were not allowed to leave his side, and when you had to go to the bathroom, he stood right outside the door like some long lost puppy.

“Something tells me they wouldn’t care whether or not they got permission anyway,” Emmett cackled. “New Orleans is wild.”

“Yeah, and you keep your eyes on the ground, sir,” Rosalie said, punching the side of his arm. The reverberating echo sounded like cracking glass.

The hospital was in very good shape on the outside despite being closed indefinitely for the past seventeen years. According to your mom, immediately after you were born, the place had been completely shut down and abandoned. 

There were pictures of all kinds of historic events hung in antique gold frames on the walls: naval ships on fire at the Battle of Galveston, slaves picking fresh cotton on a South Carolinian plantation, Jefferson Davis’s inauguration in Montgomery, Alabama.

And in the middle of the lobby were a series of three grand portraits of Texas Majors. And at the end: Jasper Whitlock, Houston native, (1845-1863), died during a surprise Union attack in an evacuation order. There he was in his fine uniform, a cowboy hat over his honey curls. He looked so recognizable. . .so familiar in those white gloves—

He touched your side, and you looked around. The others were gone from sight, but you knew they could still hear everything where you were. 

“If I could go back in time, if I could start all over again, I would do so in a heartbeat. I’m not proud of my past, Y/N. Not when I was human, nor when I changed. And I. . .I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness but I—”

There was venom glistening in his eyes. Vampires couldn’t cry. It was one of the things Rosalie said she missed most about being a human. But looking at Jasper now, he looked like he was on the very verge of doing the possible. He fell to his knees.

“I’m so sorry for it all. I’m so sorry for what I did. I never. . .I never did some of the things my comrades did, but that doesn’t make me any less guilty. I still killed people. I killed people for the wrong reason, Y/N. I was a monster, and I can never wipe that blood off my ledger.”

You cradled his face in your hands. “We all have our past, Jas. You might’ve made mistakes, you might’ve done bad things, but you’re not the same person you used to be. It was a different time and era, and frankly, you growing from what you’ve suffered and experienced makes me love you even more.”

“But I was evil. There was evil in my heart, and I thought I was doing right. I convinced myself I was fighting for my neighbors—for my way of life. But the truth is, that way of life was wrong. Whether it was enslaving African Americans or newborns, I still felt all of their pain. It was so much, so much death and heartache,” he insisted, holding on to your wrists like they were the only thing they could hold him upright. “And I’m not worthy to be your man.”

“You damn right, you aren’t,” a feminine voice snapped behind you.

You turned around to face a black woman, just about her early twenties, menacing at Jasper by your side. She had a thick, kinky head of natural textured hair, and she was very well built—like she could run a marathon and beat everyone in the race. And her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of hazel that stood out against her skin.

“Who—who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling and barely above a whisper. The Cullens appeared from the shadows, surprised and slightly on edge that someone was in the hospital that they did not know about.

“My name used to be Ava Lafayette,” she explained, glancing you up down like you were nothing more than a roach. “We used to be—we are sisters.”

“How do I? I feel like we’ve met before.” Jasper touched his head, his fingernails digging into his skin like he was in severe pain. You hugged his waist, trying to comfort him but there wasn’t much you could do for the ailment of a vampire. Carlisle held him upright with his steady hands.

“That’s because we have, Major. You had a mission to gather all male, able-bodied volunteers from Mobile when you stumbled across the Lafayette plantation. I was a house slave of that household, of Preston Lafayette Sr.’s household. And he is also my father.”

You reeled back in horror. “So. . .does that mean? Preston Lafayette II is my brother???!”

She shook her head. “Nope, not this time. He’s my brother. Your father’s name was James. He was a full-blooded slave who lived on a neighboring plantation about thirty miles north.”

“But how is this possible?” your mother demanded, holding your arm. “She was born right here seventeen years ago. My husband and I adopted her. She was a baby!”

Ava glared at her, her eyes brightening inhumanely blue. “How are you skeletons still standing and breathing? It’s the work of the witches. The rule of supernatural order. Except in this case, Y/N is an exception.”

“. . .What?”

Ava suddenly waved her hand, and the air around you transformed into a place that was not the hospital. You were in the middle of a hot, blazing field, there were little black children running around carrying cracked buckets of water. Horses whinnied at the swarming flies, and poorly abused men and women sang in the fields.

“Massah completely forgot about Mama after I was born. About six years later when she had enough cloth to make her own wedding dress, she and James jumped the broom. You were born a couple of months later, right around the time Preston Jr. himself was born.

The two of you were inseparable. You played in the fields together when you weren’t in the Big House secretly learning lessons with Missus. He taught you how to ride his horse, Midnight, and you showed him how to gather berries by the river where the girls washed the laundry.

The two of you fell in love, and although you’d gotten much too old to be running around, Preston loved you to pieces. He begged Massah to let you in the house with all the fair-skinned servants. So, Massah took it one step further. He gave you to him for his nineteenth birthday.

The night of the party, however, Major Whitlock and some of his men came riding up to the front steps. They invited him in for dinner, and Preston had no choice but to join since his father was much too old to serve and he had no other male siblings. 

He had to leave you behind, but not before finding out you were expecting’. It wasn’t uncommon for those kinds of things to happen back then, but it was still big news. Preston was devastated. He never believed in slavery anyhow, but he was afraid Missus would sell you if she knew about the baby. He was supposed to be getting married to Miss Abigail Mae Shepherd, and it would not be good news to hear about a half-negro baby in the plantation.

Unfortunately, Preston was right. While he was gone, Mama was furious. Missus had made arrangements for you to be sold up to a whore house in Charleston the next week. But see the thing about Mama—she was no ordinary slave. She was a witch who’d given up her magic in order to be with a human, James. 

She sought help from her friends, but they would not help her. So, with no other choice, she decided to cast the forbidden spell.

She ignored the laws of time, erased your memories, and de-aged you in order to send you to the year (----), when you were ‘born.’ This hospital was never real, just an illusion that came with the spell. She intended for some human to adopt you so you could grow up as a normal child in the 21st century, but instead you were adopted by a white vampire.”

The illusion melted away, and once again you were in the dusty hospital.

“You don’t know the pain and suffering I went through while you were enjoying the amenities of the future. Mama, after breaking the most sacred forbidden spell of the witches, was sentenced to death by all of the North American clans. They allowed Missus to have her hanged, and then she turned her rage onto me.

I eventually ran to New Orleans to escape the Lafayettes and find the truth of our supernatural background. There, the witches accepted me, albeit begrudgingly, and taught me how to use my power. I knew I’d eventually find you, one year or another, but I didn’t expect it would take nearly two centuries to do so.”

Your heart was broken. Your whole life—as tragic as it was—was built with that man who was chasing after you now. He was the father to your unborn child, the child that would never be born. You’d grown up together, known each other inside and out. But you’d completely forgotten him and now he was coming back—and for what reason?

“So. . .witches. . .are they immortal?” Carlisle asked.

“Precisely—if they choose to enable their powers and stay that way. Only a witch can kill a witch. We witches created the first vampires in the world as a part of our Goddess’s order. The werewolves and shapeshifters and La Push were created some time before that as well.”

“But why is Preston trying to come for Y/N? I thought you said he was against slavery? If he really loves her, why didn’t he just tell her the whole truth in the first place?” Your mom demanded.

Ava's eyes turned back hazel, and a chair appeared behind her. “Because he wants to completely ruin Jasper. He blames Jasper for making him leave, and he blames Jasper for all the wars he fought with Maria in the South. And the little devil has allied herself with his cause, for no one wants to see him suffer more than she does.”

You felt Jasper tense beside you. None of this was his fault, he was just doing what he was ordered. But Preston was focusing all his energy on completely destroying your bond with him. Earlier, Jasper explained that you were his mate. Perhaps, this was a revenge plot?

“But why would he think I’d willingly fall into his arms like we’re still in love? It was over a century ago, and I don’t remember any of it!” you shouted.

“That man died in 1863 when he was turned. Since that day, he’s been stuck in the past—eternally bound to the promise to return back to you. No matter what you say, he’s always going to after you. That’s what he told his mother, and the next day she signed your papers.”

Jasper wrapped a protective arm around your middle. “That won’t happen. He won’t take her away from me. And as for Maria, I know her better than anyone else in this world. I’m not scared if it comes to a fight.”

“Why can’t I see anything anymore?” Alice cried. “And why can’t the witches help?”

“Because once a witch is aware of what they are, vampires can no longer turn them or use their gifts on them. Maria and Preston have also probably enlisted the help of witches or wolves to cover their tracks. And as for the witches. . .they have completely shunned Y/N from society. In fact, they’d probably be more willing to kill her than help, but because of me, they’re holding their preference of the law at bay.”

Edward, frustrated at the lack of his telepathic abilities, said, “So we’re going in blind, the witches won’t help—isn’t this a Volturi level threat?”

Ava sighed. “The Volturi is completely submissive to the witches. If they come near a witch family or steps within a mile radius of even the city of New Orleans, the entire vampire race will be completely wiped out. Sorry, but they won’t be much help in this fight.”

You pressed your hand to your chest, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Immediately, Jasper caught you as you wobbled on your feet from the lack of oxygen. His scent comforted you, but you felt the distance between the two of you more than ever. At one point, you were pledged to another man; the same man after his life now.

“So what can we do?” your mother and Esme pleaded. “How can we save her? They’re bringing their newborn armies after us, the seven of us won’t be enough!”

Ava twirled a ball of light in her fingers thoughtfully. You realized that despite the fact she was biracial, she looked so similar to you. You shared the same round nose and shape of lips. 

“I really hate you more than anything, if I’m being honest. Your mom favored you and sent you away, leaving me in the dust and without a mother in a time when I didn’t understand a bit of what magic was or that the supernatural even existed,” she admitted. “But you’re still my sister, and you’re the only family I’ve got left. I’m going to try to get some of my friends to come to our side, but that’s no guarantee. Sadly, Helen of Troy is still pinned for being the start of war.”

“And we have some friends of our own,” Carlisle said. “And we’ll try to convince the shapeshifters to help too. If we could lure them back to La Push, that would mean infringing on werewolf territory and it would give them no choice but to defend Y/N.”

Jasper held you tighter, and his eyes darkened. “I don’t care what I have to do. Preston has been sorely mistaken, and now we have an old score to settle. Y/N and I are in love now, and we always will be. What happened in 1863 will stay in 1863, and I will be the one to make sure that happens.”

You snuggled into his chest, closing your eyes. You prayed to God—the Goddess or whoever—that you and your family would end up okay. You prayed for the baby that was never born, the baby that was never loved, and you prayed for your biological mother’s tortured soul. But lastly, and more importantly, you prayed for Jasper.

Don’t you like watching Jasper ride his hOnSe??

Part Three   Part Four

[theyearoftheking]

Book Twenty-Three: It

"Maybe that’s why God made us kids first and built us close to the ground, because He knows you got to fall down a lot and bleed a lot before you learn that one simple lesson. You pay for what you get, you own what you pay for... and sooner or later whatever you own comes back home to you.” 

I’m just going to come right out and say it.

Orgy. 

Pre-teen child orgy.

Weird-ass, icky, questionable judgement that I’m going to chalk up to years of drug and alcohol abuse... orgy. 

Of all the strange and bizarre things Steve has written over the years, the child orgy scene in It might be the strangest one. I’ve read articles back and forth, and I know there was controversy surrounding whether or not to include it in the movie (glad cooler heads prevailed there!), but ick!!! Maybe it’s because my daughter is Beverly’s age, but ick!!! 

I don’t think it belonged in the book. There were hundreds of other way the kids could have cemented their friendship, and shown adult status without sex. I mean, they already had a blood oath: what more do you need?? 

I know. This is such a small scene in the book, but it troubles me as a woman, a feminist, and most importantly, a mother. And as a writer, I’m also troubled that parts of it are written like a bad porn: “Something that will bring us together forever. Something that will show...that I love you all... Who’s first?” 

Gag. I just threw up in my mouth a little. 

I loved reading It. The past and present chapters of the book flowed so fluidly, the character development was excellent, and Pennywise is terrifying. But this one part just keeps me from ever wanting to read it again. And then it had me questioning my own enjoyment of the book. Should I come down hard on this one for Steve’s tone-deaf attitude towards children having sex? Should I just ignore it and move along? Is it callus for me to enjoy the book, and still be bothered by the child orgy scene? 

I think I finally settled on the last option. 

Okay. We tackled the elephant in the room, now let’s move along to my half-assed review of the rest of the book. 

I thought I had read It in the past, but when the book was delivered, I was shocked to see how thick it was. I was expecting a much shorter read. That was clue number one I had never read it. Clue number two was not really remembering the past and present story lines. So I’m going to assume I’m at that fragile, old age where I no longer remember every book I’ve ever read. 

I have seen both of the recent movies, and thought they stayed fairly true to the book, and I liked their casting. I even imagined several movie characters as I was reading along. It was a solid book, and I flew through it in a little over a week. Not bad for normal reading standards, but a little long for Coronavirus reading standards. 

Cue the Cardi... Coronavirus! 

Sorry. I really love this video, and find myself yelling, “Coronavirus! Shit is real!” far too often. 

So, for those of you who have been living under a rock your entire lives, It is the story of Pennywise, a murderous clown who preys on innocent children in Derry, Maine every twenty-seven years or so. Yes, he’s a clown, but he can also take the form of a spider, a werewolf, or whatever you’re most terrified of. “Glamour, he said, was the Gaelic name for the creature which was haunting Derry; other races and other cultures at other times had different words for it, but they all meant the same thing... The Himalayans called it a tallus or taelus, which meant an evil magic being that could read your mind, and then assume the shape of the thing you were most afraid of.” 

So, It kills little Georgie Denbrough, and his older brother Bill lives with the guilt of Georgie’s death. Bill had been at home with the flu, but had made Georgie a paper boat he could play with outside, and race through the flooding streets. Bill feels if he had been there, Georgie might still be alive, and his parents might be far less vacant and depressed. That’s some serious guilt. 

Bill and his gang of friends: Stan Uris, Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon, and Ben Hanscom all band together and form The Losers Club after admitting they’ve seen It in some form or another. In addition to taking out a few psychotic child bullies in a rock fight, they also mortally wound It. They have a group orgy, and a blood oath to celebrate their victory.

The kids grow up, and all go their seperate ways until twenty-seven years later when Mike calls them all to let them know It is killing again. Stanley Uris kills himself in the bathtub, but the rest of the Losers Club all travel back to Derry to see what’s up. Richie is a California-based DJ, Eddie runs a car service and married a woman just like his crazy mother, Beverly is a famous clothing designer, Ben is a world-famous architect, Bill is an acclaimed writer, and Mike is the librarian at the Derry Public Library. 

All of them have vague memories of their time in Derry, and barely remember one another. But once they get back in town, the memories and bad habits start flooding back. Eddie is back to sucking on his aspirator every few minutes (despite his asthma being psychosomatic), Richie can no longer wear contacts and is back to his dorky glasses, and Bill is back to stuttering, something he hasn’t done since childhood. Good times. 

While the Loser’s Club is assembling and eating Chinese food together, Pennywise takes it upon himself to release psycho childhood bully Henry Bowers from Juniper Hill, the mental institution he’s been in for years. Sidenote... one of the meanest counselors at Juniper Hill is Koontz. Coincidence? I’m going with no... 

Mike informs everyone It is back in action again, killing people, and they all made a promise to come back to Derry if It ever went on another murderous rampage. So, they head back into the sewers again to take It out once and for all. They succeed, Eddie dies, Beverly’s abusive asshole husband dies, Audra, Bill’s wife, is catatonic from the shock of the whole thing, and the entire town of Derry literally and metaphorically collapses in on itself. But on the bright side, It is dead, and there wasn’t another orgy. Huzzah! 

The book is chock full of Steve tropes (chambray work shirts! multiple mentions of Shawshank prison! Happy Crappy everywhere!); and also a few mentions of past and future books. Loser’s Club member Ben Hanscom is a chunky kid, and he’s made fun of for his weight. At one point, he recants a traumatic locker room scene where kids are “fat-paddling” him. Yes, it’s as cringy as it sounds. The gym teacher finally breaks it up, and Ben describes, “...what he did was grab one of my tits in each hand and squeeze. Then he took his hands away and rubbed them on his pants like he’d touched something dirty.” This was basically the male version of Carrie: locker room torture and dirty pillows. I laughed way too hard at that. But unlike Carrie White, Ben grows up to be handsome, famous, and he gets the girl without starting anyone on fire. 

Later on in the novel, Beverly is dealing with her abusive, crazy husband, Tom Rogan. After she beats the crap out of him and flees for Derry, he tries to track her down. First, he stops by her best friend’s house, and almost beats her to death before she tells him Beverly left for Derry. Tom Rogan is so evil and terrifying, I couldn’t help but wonder if his character planted a seed in Steve’s mind for Rose Madder. I saw a lot of similarities. 

There were also a few Dark Tower references. The Turtle is mentioned throughout the book, and The Turtle is also known as Maturin, one of the Guardians of the Beam in the Dark Tower universe. #allthingsservethebeam

Later on, Bill is on his way to take on It and, “He thought dimly of riding in a train and passing one going in the other direction, a train that was so long it seemed eventually to stand still or even move backward. He could still hear It, yammering and buzzing, Its voice high and angry, not human, full of mad hate...”

Could it be Blaine? Blaine is a pain! 

There was also one Wisconsin reference, Beverly takes a flight out of Milwaukee. After several books with no Wisconsin references, it was nice seeing Steve give us the love we deserve. 

Orgy aside, I really loved It (things you never think you’ll say out loud, or type for that matter). If nothing else, you have to give Steve credit for making creepy clowns a thing. At one point in the book, Steve writes, “The fears of children could often be summoned up in a single face... and if bait were needed, why, what child did not love a clown?” 

Um, no children today, thanks to your sick ass! 

Next up is Eyes of the Dragon, which I have never read before, and is slow going. But at least it’s short. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 16

Total Dark Tower References: 16

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

Stay healthy and keep social distancing, my friends!

Until next time, Long Days and Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

[seawolvesanddragons]

Alternate Avengers Timeline

So my friend and I were wishing the MCU had given us a more "Avengers as a team" storyline and then my hand slipped and this happened:

--tower shenanigans happened slowly following after NYC, but by Thor's return Tony has been living there full time since Malibu literally blew up and was part time there before hand anyway. As soon as he went full time, Bruce moved in.

--they were being called in on smaller scale missions, usually Steve plus the assassins, but often the science bros for their brains if Tony and Bruce agreed to, and even Iron Man when he agreed to.

--Steve is splitting his time between DC and the tower, so is Natasha since she's paired with Steve for most of his missions.

--Clint is almost full time avenger now: SHIELD needed someone in NYC anyway, and he could double with keeping an eye on Tony and Bruce when Natasha was with Steve. Also, he doesn't have a handler anymore since Phil, doesnt want any other, so this was the compromise. He likes it, the guys are cool, NYC missions are interesting, he still gets to go out with Steve and Natasha often, and he's closer to his sister Laura and her two kids (with one more on the way) - her husband died in battle of new York. Avengers excepting Natasha don't know about his sister and her family. He and Natasha have their special understanding. Its left ambiguous so that fans can interpret what they want.

--Winter soldier and dark world happen still as before, but the post credit scene of dark world is the avengers all arriving in London to help after Thor has already solved everything and are just sort of standing around uselessly after an epic entrance. Tony tells him and Jane to stop by the tower and offers Jane a job.

--age of ultron happens as it did but with better understanding between Tony and Steve and also more discussion about threats from space, Tony/Jarvis running surveillance for Bucky. Sam is basically being phased into Avengers. Rhodey is trying to get transferred cause "no way is the winged youngun beating me to the group" and Peitro lives dammit. Hulk still goes because I liked him in Ragnarok. So off to space, sorry bud.

--I think all the standalone movies can go as planned up till CW...civil war goes by and large the same, with key differences: Tony and Steve argue about the accords yes, but this avengers is far more cohesive then our timeline; they've been living and working together since 2013. The UN is withholding aid and info that could help the group learn more about the threat of whoever was behind Loki and Thor's vision from Age of Ultron (Thor keeps in touch with them; he and Jane still break up). Tony, who prioritizes this threat, is willing to sign the line in order to get the information. ("Its not like we can't just break the rules later Steve" ) but Steve thinks their earth based missions are more imprtant right now because theyre here, in the present, and the accords would tie their hands from doing any real good. They're trying to figure out a compromise, and yes tempers are running a bit short when the attack happens and Bucky is framed. Tony and the others immediately tell Steve to go (Natasha and Sam go with him as back up) while the others try to stall the military and un from arresting Bucky. A new deal is put on the table: sign the accords, and Bucky (and Wanda who is being unfairly demonized by them) get full immumity. Tony thinks this might work. He tries to get in touch with Steve to talk it through, but some black ops break through his and the other Avengers defensivsss and Tchallas attack keeps him from getting in contact. Steve, Sam, Bucky are arrested (Natasha gets away) and taken to SHIELD where they keep them separated from the team, and tell them Tony and the others already signed the accords. Steve doesn't believe them. What's his name is pulling his shit with Bucky, and before he can confer with Tony and the others, Steve and Sam have to break out, stop Bucky, and go on the run again. Before the leave, Steve sees Tony in an office with Ross - just enough to plant a seed of doubt in his mind.

They decide they need to go after whoever framed Bucky. Sam asks if they need to get the whole team in, but Steve knows getting this info on the Space Threat is also important. They can't sever all ties. Let Ross think the group was split and have Tony and Natasha try to work their magic on Ross to get the info. Discreet messages are sent out. We see Clint slipping away from Natasha , Rhodey, and Tony's meeting with Ross. Vision is distracted from watching Wanda (still placed on house arrest, which everyone is protesting. Also pietro has been off doing his own thing, travelling the world and hoping to find Hulk.) Sam tells Steve about Scott and a few strings are pulled by Hill to get him there. The mission: destroy the other super soldiers Bucky talked about. Ross catches wind and declares them vigilantes and orders the rest of the avengers after them. After a lot of arguing and Tony almost blowing Ross to bits (no one has forgotten what he did to Bruce) the final punch is pulled: full Immunity for the rogue Avengers, the info on Space threats, and the location of Bruce's Quinn jet. Just sign The accords. Its the only way out of this nightmare. The last one gets Tony. He wants Bruce back. They need to get to Steve and work this out, and they can't leave until someone signs the accords. So he does. Rhodes and Natasha follow suit. The first thing Ross does is order them to stop the others and bring them in. Tony remimds him of the deal and declares they have 36 hours to get Steve and the others to come in and work this out. After that, the accords can go into full affect. Ross gets even by telling Tchalla where Bucky is, and Tony, Vision and co have to go there to keep him from killing Bucky. Tony brings Peter because a) he needs a wild card, especially one whose webbing can get people to pause and b) he wants the kid associated with the Avengers before Ross goes after him. Peitro also stops by and goes with them to meet the others.

--the airport scene is a mess of communication - Steve needs to GO, before the super soldiers are awakened, but Tony needs him to LISTEN because things are spiraling. Tchalla gets tired of the talk and attacks, causing Wanda to hold him off. Vision incapacitates Wanda. Suddenly all hell breaks loose, and a full on fight breaks out. The avengers are torn into two. Tchalla is the one to nearly stop Bucky and Steve from escaping, until Tony knocks him out from behind. "Think Ross bought that whole pantomime?" "Seemed pretty real to me. You hit hard Tony" "walk it off Cap. You said something about more Russian evil you before?" "Yeah. You'll keep Ross off our back?" "Do my best. Good luck Cap." "I'll need it. And Tony? Thanks."

--Rhodey is injured trying to protect Wanda from Ross's men when they suddenly appear. Sam saves him.

--Tony and "Team Iron Man" are horrified by the underground prison. The plan is to break them out. Natasha tells Tony to go help Cap under the guise of trying to arrest him, because "you can't be here when they escape." Tony goes. Tchalla follows. The reveal happens and at first Tony is angry, is lashing out, and Steve is confused to (because Steve didn't know in this timeline) and torn between who to help, and Bucky just...lets the attack come. Steve tries to intervene but Tony blasts him to the side. Finally, Tony is ready for the killing blow - and he can't. He knows this face, it's been in his database for years now, searching for Steve's long lost best friend. He sees Rhodey in his mind, falling out of the sky. He hears his mother's voice. And he tears the gauntlet off, screaming in pain and heartache.

--tchalla and villain dudes scene stays.

--Tony and Steve finally get to talk everything out and figure out the best course of action. There's no way around it: the team has to split. They needed to be ready to fight the oncoming war as well as put out the current fires. Besides, half of the Avengers have been tossed in prison. So Steve will take his team (minus Scott, who ops for house arrest) and they'll go vigilante. Meanwhile, Tony and his folk stay on as the remaining official Avengers, and get the info they need. Steve gives Tony a burner phone, tells him to call if he ever needs help.

--Natasha has broken the others out of prison. Vision, Rhodey, Peitro are staying with Tony as Avengers. Steve, Sam, Natasha are going rogue, with Tchalla offering them Wakanda as an operating base if,needed. He also takes Bucky to help rehabilitate. Clint is taking Wanda to recover at his sisters farm, which Ross doesn't know about, to give her time to heal. When shes ready, they would join whoever needed them. Scott gives Tony Hank's contact to reach other and work together if needed.

--so basically the media, public, and Ross think the Avengers are fueding but really Tony and Steve are playing war on both sides.

--standalone movies since then stay the same, but Thor is pan, slightly more aware of the earth going ons, and tells Bruce about some of them in Ragnaroc. Stephan strange is ace. Also they expain why the mystic one has the time stone, and also throwaway line about how the Avengers would be better equipped for this till they broke up,

--Tony constantly trolls Ross

--Peter knows that secretly they all get along, but has to pretend like it really is Steve v Tony like every other civilian thinks it is. Ned is overjoyed when he learns otherwise.

--Spider-Man is also just full of subtle nods to the con the avengers are pulling on Ross. The party Tony is at when he rescues Peter shows Natasha and Sam disguised in the background. Peter gets a postcard from Brooklyn he puts on his wall post the ferry incident.

--thor calms Hulk down at some point in Ragnarok by referencing times in the tower when they all lived together.

--Infinity war comes. Hulk arrives with his news, Tony is literally about to call Steve when the attack happens. That's it, thwy're seperated for the rest of the fight once Tony gets on the spaceship.

-when Tony disappears, Rhodey and Hulk ask Peitro to tell them where Vision is with Wanda, because that secret was fooling no one. Also, the rogue Avengers have been secretly half living in the tower again for months now between missions; Peter knows each of them by name. Ross suspects but can't prove anything and he hates it)

--Avengers reunited, sans Tony and Thor!

--Tony's been compiling info on this new threat post civil war, as well as working on new tech to sneak to the rogues when he can; this all comes out as they head from NY to Wakanda. Scott doesn't have a role, as in the original, but Clint is there and he goes. Or maybe Clint somehow ends up in space after they are fighting off the ones attacking Wanda and Vision and is just wondering how he gets in progressively stupider situations with just a bow and arrows. Well, time to hide until he can figure out an escape plan. Somehow this ends with him ending up on the same place as Tony, Strange, Peter, and the Guardians, in the middle of their fight. It's kind of hilarious.

--Tony's dislike of Strange is explained as Tony knowing Strange refused to work on Rhodey's legs because it was too simple and boring a case. Strange has to prove he's changed.

--(btw, Avengers didn't interfere with Strange because the rogues where off on their own mission already and NY Avengers couldn't because of the accords. Had the ancient one not assured them long before they could hold their own, they would have broken the accords once they knew something hanky was going on. In Black Panther, the group just left and didn't really hear about it. You get a few references to their stay though. )

--the rest of Infinity War stays the same.

--Clint's niece stays alive and Natasha gets her; she's there when the spaceship returns and she is ready to fight Thanos

--time skip of six, eight months before they figure out how to reverse the snap. Pepper is pregnant. Harley is there because his family got snapped and Tony just keeps adopting kids ok? Movie generally stays the same but Natasha doesn't die, Tony comes up with literally any other plan and therefore doesn't die, Steve fucking stays

--back to everyone living in the tower together, the accords are ripped up and everyone gets to be an avenger again; Thor decides to travel with the guardians for a while to find a new planet for Asgard as Valkarie runs shit. Theres a shot near the end showing Peter, Clint's neice, Harley (who is working on a prototype iron man suit) and Shuri talking with Cassie hanging on to every word, foreshadowing the young Avengers.

-

[lightlorn]

i’m a big fan of a variety of theories for the queen of lothric -- an acolyte of gwynevere? one of her many daughters? a simple devotee to the absent goddess’ legacy? are the similarities a red herring planted by the english localization team? in the true dark souls spirit, we are never going to get a straight answer, which has its pros and cons when addressing female characters, but i digress.

that said, i want to take a moment to discuss my nev-as-queen verse and why i’m so attached to it as part of a character arc for my muse. i like that it leaves open the possibility to play with fairy tale motifs that seem to have always been a part of gwynevere’s character, even as we never truly see her or the queen in canon proper.

so in the first game, nev is a princess in a tower. the daughter of the long dead god king. she's beautiful and speaks softly and gives you a quest. she heals you if you visit her while injured. she is a high fantasy in a low fantasy world.

and she is just that. a fantasy.

an illusion conjured by her younger sibling who truly rules the holy kingdom. gwynevere left ages ago. it speaks to the ambiguity of her character that to this day fandom debates if her illusion's characterization is how the real gwynevere acts, or how gwyndolin needs her to act as their illusory mouthpiece.

there is no substance to her literally and metaphorically within the narrative, not unlike the distant princess that, in older narratives, a brave hero might win the hand of. her virtues are all light and feminine power. from the first we are thrust into the idea of gwynevere as this perfect princess straight out of a storybook.

cut to dark souls three. the kingdom of lothric is broken. it raised up a boy king to be sacrificed to the gods to save the world, and he said no. wars ensued. people died. the world continues to die. the queen, who likely had a hand in the intended crimes of this kingdom, has vanished.

h o w e v e r

the queen is hinted to be a woman of far higher stature than her husband, who is already a sage king in historical writings. she must have raised the boy king to be a sacrificial lamb to the god king's ambitions. she ensured the kingdom of lothric had close ties to gwyndolin's kingdom of irithyll.

if gwynevere is the queen of lothric then it paints her as a politically savvy evil matriarch who is still carrying out her father's will centuries after his death. it says she was not stagnant but simply lying in wait. it says that she went from the princess of childhood fantasy to the evil mother figure of original tales, long before the sanitized stories turned them all into stepmothers.

it adds layers and an arc and in ds fashion raises questions: how did she come to this? at what point did she make the 180 from the beloved princess in the tower to the standard of a wicked stepmother? and why is she this eternal escape artist from the narrative? it gives me so much to think about and work off of in terms of a ‘women in fables’ motif while answering those questions and i just.

this ambiguity is My Playground Now.

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 161: Clarity

After her little confrontation with Sabine, Victoria returned to Belfry tower and used the freight elevator to take her to the secret, restricted floor high in the building. Her heels clicked on the floor, as she walked purposefully toward the darkened corner by a vent fan. Gothel looked up at her through her matted hair with a smirk.

"Let me guess...hope and belief are returning to certain residents of Hyperion Heights. I told you what would happen if they were together…you should have eliminated them," she hissed.

"You know very well why we cannot just kill them. I need their power...or my Anastasia will never draw breath again," Victoria responded.

"Yet if they come back into their power...I'm doomed, not that you care in the least," Gothel growled. Victoria smirked.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're just collateral damage, which suits me just fine. It's time to begin the next faze and force them to awaken my daughter. And you're going to help me," Victoria said, as she grasped the woman's chain. Gothel smirked.

"I don't think so...there is a reckoning upon us and soon I shall be free to finish what I started," Gothel warned. Victoria smirked.

"You are never getting rid of these chains, witch. You haven't heard yet...but I just learned that there has been a murder. I believe she was one of your witch friends?" Victoria questioned, as she showed the other woman the headline from her phone that was already trending in the city. Gothel frowned.

"They're saying it's tragic...but if they knew what I do about her and that she was part of your little cult that wishes to extinguish all that oppose you, then they'd probably be calling it justice," she said. Gothel snarled at her and pulled at her chains, as she tried to advance on Victoria, but the other woman smirked smugly, for the witch was well trapped by her bonds.

"Someone is hunting witches...enjoy the time you have left," she said, as she walked away, leaving Gothel seething in rage.

~*~

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Clayton screamed, as he chucked a glass at Nick, which he ducked and it shattered on the wall behind him.

"Some would say so...but I'm just a man with a mission, much like you, Collector," he responded calmly. Clayton seethed in barely contained rage, as he pounded his clenched fists on the desk. Little did either of them know, Cassidy Gold was listening to the entire thing from outside the office. But due to the closed door, the voices were muffled. Still...Clayton was obviously extremely agitated by this man, so he would report this meeting to Weaver.

"Look...I've been dormant long enough. And no one will miss the filthy little witch. I'm doing everyone a favor by eliminating her kind," Nick hissed. Clayton clutched his phone and showed him the trending headline.

"I don't care that she's dead...she was insignificant. But you could have made it look like an accident or something. This is too much attention!" he growled. Nick scoffed.

"No...an accident wouldn't do. Only the spilling of her blood can extinguish the evil of her kind," he replied. Clayton clenched his teeth.

"I do not care about what the madness in your head is telling you to do...you work for me and now you've potentially exposed yourself like a vein! You're my attorney! If you are caught...then Nolan will have no trouble connecting us," Clayton reminded.

"Nolan won't figure it out...I left no forensic trace," Nick assured.

"You're not getting it!" Clayton snapped.

"You don't know David Nolan like I do! A brutal murder of a young woman...he won't stop until he finds who is responsible and then I'll be implicated, because of your psychotic need to cut people up!" he shouted.

"Not people...witches. Believe me...there's a difference," Nick spat. Clayton pinched the bridge of his nose in utter frustration.

"You're still not getting it...we don't need this much attention right now," he said. Nick smirked.

"Then maybe it's time to make sure Detective Nolan is put out of commission," he replied.

"You know why we can't kill him!" Clayton snapped. Nick scoffed.

"All because of that stupid chalice...it's power is just as evil as any witch. But soon...it won't be a problem any more," he responded. A chill went down Clayton's spine at that.

"What have you done?" he questioned. Nick just shrugged and exited the office. Cassidy Gold watched him go and then took his phone out, before dialing the only programmed number in the burner phone.

"It's me...I need to see you," he said, as he listened to his instructions and then hung up.

~*~

David arrived at the scene and Rogers already had it taped off with crime scene tape. He showed his badge to the officer on guard and slipped under the tape.

"What do we know so far?" he asked, as Rogers handed over the woman's identification.

"Christine Jensen, 26…" Rogers stated.

"Any sign of sexual assault?" David asked.

"We won't know for sure until the coroner is done with autopsy, but it doesn't look like it. Just killed...perhaps she refused to give up her purse," he suggested, as David examined the brutal scene.

"I don't think so…" he said.

"Why do you say that?" Rogers asked.

"Just a hunch, but it's a lot of blood for a random victim. A bullet is a less mess, not to mention, he had to get one hell of grip on her to slit the carotid artery. It's a risky way kill...even in an abandoned garage. It would have required a lot more effort to make sure they didn't leave forensics behind," David deduced.

"Then you think she was targeted?" Rogers asked. The blonde nodded.

"It's what my gut is telling me," David replied, as he noticed something something on her back and peeled her shirt up, revealing a symbol that had been carved into her flesh at the small of her back.

"Bloody hell...I've seen that before," Rogers uttered.

"Where?" David questioned, as he motioned the forensic analyst over and had them take pictures of it.

"It's...it's a missing case I've been struggling with for years. Eloise Gardener...this symbol was in the girl's sketch book that we recovered from the initial crime scene. But we could never find her...it's a cold case. I was fresh out of the academy," Rogers explained.

"It definitely could be connected. Can you go back to the station and get the original case file?" David asked.

"Sure…" Rogers replied, as he headed off, while David continued to look around the garage. He looked around the woman's car and looked underneath it. With a gloved hand, he reached under and retrieved a piece of fabric, which did not match the victim's clothing.

"I need an evidence bag!" he called, as the forensic analyst complied. It was a piece of flannel, likely from a shirt, which kind of puzzled him even more. The scene was clean of most forensic evidence. He was pretty sure they weren't going to get anything from the body or the scene. And yet, the killer was careless enough to leave a piece of fabric behind? It didn't make any sense, so he continued to go through the car, starting with the glove box. He pilfered through the contents and found a napkin with a phone number on it. It was from a coffee shop called the Twisted Bean. A date gone bad, perhaps? He took out his phone and dialed the number, waiting for someone to answer.

"Hello Detective," a garbled voice said from the other end.

"Who is this?" David demanded to know.

"A proper introduction can't be done over the phone, but if you want to know, you'll come to the Fremont Troll bridge. If I'm not mistaken, it's not far from the waterfront that overlooks the cliff where you lost your dear Margaret...or thought you lost her," the voice said. He went rigid, for he had no idea how this person knew any of that. And as dangerous as he knew it probably was, he was going to figure this out.

"Fine...I'll be there in thirty," he answered, as he hung up his phone and after making sure the crime scene was secure, he hurried back to his truck.

~*~

Roni was just finishing cleaning some glassware when she noticed an envelope laying on the floor, having been slipped under the door of the bar. Curiously, she picked it up and opened it. Inside, she found a photo and instantly became puzzled. It was in front of a place called Granny's diner. It was a picture of David, Mary, herself, Iris, Bobby, her sister Kelly, her niece Margot, and then four other adults she didn't recognize and a youth around Iris' age. A handsome man that had his arm around her waist. And the other three, a young man and two young women, were huddled around David and Mary. And the other youth was between her and the man. She shook her head.

"What is this?" she muttered.

"Curious...isn't it?" Ivy questioned, as she walked into the bar.

"What the hell do you want?" Roni snapped, as she did a shot.

"Well, this is a bar and I just came in for a drink. Even if the bartender is surly," Ivy quipped.

"And I own this bar, so I get to choose who I serve and who I don't," she responded.

"Oh, now don't be like that...it's really my mother you hate. Believe me, we have that in common," Ivy replied.

"Fine…" Roni said, as she poured two more shots and then looked down at the picture, trying to make sense of it. She had never been to some diner called Granny's and she didn't know some of these people. She had only met Mary recently and David a couple years ago when he investigated a break in at her bar. While she wasn't looking, Ivy slipped something into Roni's shot and the other woman knocked it back. Ivy smirked, as she blinked her eyes and stumbled slightly.

"What...the hell?" she stammered, as she gripped the bar and memories assaulted her. Everything...meeting Snow, Daniel's death, marrying the King, becoming the Evil Queen. Then the curse...and how dissatisfying her revenge was. Then Robin...and the Charmings going from enemies to family. Then this new curse. She gasped, as she remembered her last memory with her husband and son.

~*~

"Are you sure about this? I can stay behind…" she said. Robin smiled.

"It's all right...besides, Roland and I are going on a father/son camping trip this weekend, you know before he up and leaves us behind for college," Robin replied. She smiled.

"It's just Boston...we'll see him and talk to him all the time," she reminded. He sighed.

"I know," he agreed, as he kissed her.

"Go...Lucy will love seeing you and just tell her that her great Uncle Robin is sorry he missed this one, but I'll be there next time," he said. Regina smiled.

"She'll understand and it's just a birthday, so I'm sure we'll only be gone a few days at most," she replied.

"Well…I'll miss you anyhow," he said, as they kissed again.

"Me too," she agreed.

~*~

Her eyes were wide and her mouth was ajar, as it all came rushing back. Robin and Roland were back in Storybrooke, safe, but in a future Storybrooke. Lucy's eighth birthday had turned into the day they had all been cursed again. She looked at the photo and then up at Ivy, who was staring at her smugly.

"Welcome back…" she greeted.

"You…" Regina snarled. Drizella smirked.

"Don't be too upset...your precious Robin and Roland are safe, though I'm sure they're wondering what happened to you. But I think it's the Charmings you should worry about…" she responded. Regina remembered everything from that night when Lucy's birthday party turned from a celebration into chaos. Gothel, the witch Aphrodite had feared so much, showed up and wrecked complete havoc, including freeing Drizella and Clayton from their stone prisons. And then...the curse. She remembered pleading with Summer to use her bubbles to keep herself and Bobby with their parents. At least that had partially worked. But then she remembered Emma...and her eyes widened in shock.

"Then you do remember...which is why I awoke you," Ivy said. Regina growled and reached for the other woman's throat, but Ivy simple stepped back and chuckled.

"Those two idiots are getting too close...they don't remember what the consequences of breaking this curse are. You need to remind them…" she said.

"We'll find a way," Regina insisted. Ivy smirked.

"No...you won't. It's a choice, Regina and when they remember, they'll make the choice to leave the curse in tact," she replied, as she turned and left, just as Summer and Bobby came into the bar with Mary following them.

"What did she want?" Mary asked, but Roni didn't answer, for she could only stare blankly at the bar.

"Roni?" Mary asked, as the woman finally looked up at her and she saw realization.

"Not Roni," she replied. Mary gasped.

"Regina?" she cried, as tears filled both women's eyes.

"Snow…" she choked, as they hugged tightly.

"Nana…" Summer asked. The tears fell then and she nodded.

"Nana!" Bobby called, as the both of them dove into Regina's arms.

"I missed you," Summer said.

"Me too," Bobby added.

"I missed you both too," Regina sniffed, as she suddenly noticed that Snow was putting a hand to her heart.

"Snow?" Regina asked.

"It's David...he's in danger," she uttered.

"You can feel him again?" she asked. She didn't think it was possible in a place without magic, but then again, she supposed she needed to consider the source. Her step-daughter and her husband had long ago defied any limitations or logic when it came to their true love.

"You two stay here...I have to find your father," she said, as she rushed out.

"Snow...wait!" Regina cried and sighed, as she disappeared out the door.

"Mom will find him," Summer said confidently, though she was suddenly very worried about her dad.

"Yeah...Mom always finds him," Bobby confirmed, though he, too, was worried.

"I know...but I'm not sure what she's going to find when she does," Regina replied, as she dialed a number on her phone.

"Rogers...it's Roni. I think Mary and David might be in trouble. If Weaver is able to ping his phone, then he should do it. You need to find them," Roni told him.

~*~

Enchanted Forest 3

Storybrooke Year - 2021

With the battle won and Lady Tremaine forced into hiding, Tiana prepared to take command of her Kingdom. There would be a coronation eventually, but for now, much work on stabilizing the Kingdom was underway.

Assuring Snow and David that they had done more than enough, they and their extended family prepared to use a bean to return to Storybrooke. Emma and Neal were struggling a bit with letting go, but knew that Henry had his own life now and were happy that he was falling in love. As for Alice, they had convinced her to return to Storybrooke with them, as they would now begin researching a way to cure Hook's poisoned heart. She was still very weary though.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked.

"Of course...we're going to figure this out," Emma assured.

"She's right, starfish...believe me, I've seen it. When this family decides they're going to do something, nothing stops them," Killian told her. Alice still looked a bit uncertain, but they had all been so welcoming.

"Don't worry, Tower Girl...I'll show you the ropes back home," Jade offered, as the two shared a look. Killian smiled at her with encouragement.

"Daylight is dwindling...we should get the Roger out to sea with the tide," he suggested. Snow and David nodded, as they hugged Henry and Ella.

"Please don't wait so long to visit…" Snow pleaded. Henry smiled.

"Don't worry Grams, we'll visit very soon," he promised.

"And we'll be back too," David promised, as he hugged him too.

"I'll take care of him," Ella promised, as she hugged Snow.

"Oh, I know you will," the raven haired beauty replied, as David hugged her next. Emma sighed, as she faced letting him go again.

"I'll be fine, Mom...and we have that mirror that Grandpa Gold conjured for us. We can magical Skype all the time," he reminded.

"I know...but I'll still miss you, kid," she replied, as they hugged fiercely. Neal was next and put his forehead against his son's.

"Take care of yourself and you better be using that mirror all the time," he stressed. Henry smiled.

"I will, Dad," he said, as his Aunts and Uncles hugged him next. Finally, all the goodbyes were said and they boarded the Jolly Roger. Henry and Ella waved to them, as they made it out to sea and the ship disappeared through a portal.

~*~

Hyperion Heights

David arrived at the Fremont Troll bridge and killed the engine, before getting out. He pulled his gun and grabbed his flashlight, before cautiously approaching the seemingly deserted area. There was a clapping sound, like something falling from above. He shined his light up, as a figure dropped from above behind him. David turned to aim his weapon, but the assailant was ready and kicked him in the chest. The gun flew out of his hand and landed a few feet away. But surprisingly, the perpetrator didn't go for it and instead, lifted David up by his shirt. He was masked and had a medium build. He punched David, who countered with one of his own in return, as they grappled along the pavement. His attacker then pulled a knife and swiped at him. David dodged while backing up and rain began to fall, quickly soaking them and making it very difficult to see. With a cheap shot to his knees, the assailant kicked him and David rolled down a muddy hill nearby. The figure stood above him on the hill.

"They want you alive...but let's see if we can put you back in that coma and out of the way where you can't interfere," the man muttered in a garbled voice. Before he could descend on the prone detective, he saw flashing lights and cursed, as he slipped into the shadows.

Mary parked Roni's car and got out, instantly getting drenched by the rain. She cursed, as she tried to use her phone's flashlight, which wasn't much help in the misty rain.

"David!" she called, as the rain poured down on her in sheets.

"DAVID!" she cried in a frightened voice, as her breathing came in ragged gasps. Her heart hammered in her chest and she tried to calm down long enough to listen to it. She let it lead her legs toward the edge of the bridge where it dipped down to a steep hill. And her half heart jumped into her throat, as she saw him lying at the bottom of the hill in a puddle of water, face down.

"No...no...no...no…" she cried repeatedly in a panic, as she stumbled down the hill, nearly tumbling herself. She reached him and pulled him onto his back, before cupping his face.

"No...don't you dare do this to me again!" she cried, as she breathed air into his mouth. When nothing happened after the first breath she did it again and pressed her hand to his chest.

"Charming please…" she sobbed, as she breathed for him again. Finally, he took a starved breath of air and coughed up a little water.

"Oh thanks Gods…" Snow cried, as she cradled his head and he looked up at her in awe.

"Oh my love…" she sniffed, as she kissed his forehead. He stared at her through blurry vision, as the images played through his mind like a movie. He saw them next to a bridge, much like they were now, and saw himself staring at her in awe, as she put his ring on. Snow watched him fumble for her hand and find the same ring on her finger that was in the vision in his head. He looked back at her and then at the ring again, as he touched it. He gasped and shuddered, as it all came rushing back to him in a frenzy of flashes. His head felt like it was on fire the entire time and his breathing began ragged, as he took it all in.

"David...please say something. Talk to me," she said fearfully. She immediately worried that maybe the fall had given him amnesia. Or maybe the person that had done this had found a way to give him curse memories. It was her worst fear. What if he had forgotten her again? She didn't know if she could take that. The last two years without him had been torture and she had only been herself half the time. Now that she was not splitting between herself and Mary, she was sure her half heart would shatter if he really had forgotten her.

"David…" she cried, fearing the worst when he didn't say anything.

"Snow…" he uttered, as he looked up at her like she was everything. Her breath caught.

"What?" she asked, wondering if she had heard right or if her heart was just playing a cruel trick on her.

"Snow…" he repeated, as their eyes locked and block that the curse had between them was gone. She could feel him again, in her heart, her mind, and soul. She didn't know how it was possible with the curse still in tact, but she didn't give a damn. He remembered...he was back.

"Charming?" she asked, even as the rain continued to pour down on them.

"Yes...it's me. You found me," he replied. She hummed in relief

"Did you ever doubt I would?" she asked, as she hugged him fiercely and he managed to sit up. He managed to get to his feet and helped her up, before pulling her flush against him and kissing her fiercely. The kiss was passionate, soul searing, and heart souring, as their reunion became complete. Snow pressed her forehead against his and no longer cared that they were soaking wet and muddy. She was in his arms again. He was awake and the torture of the last two years not having him were over. At that, she broke down crying and he pillowed her against his chest.

"I'm here, my darling...I'm here," he whispered. She shook her head, almost afraid to believe it was all real.

"For the last two years...my life was complete hellish insanity. But you...you were always my clarity," she confessed.

"And you saved me…again," he reminded, as he held her face in his hands.

"I felt it...the block between us is gone, even though the curse isn't broken. I...I don't know what that means...but I felt it when you were in danger," she replied, as she gasped then and looked around.

"David...where is the person that did this to you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure...he was wearing a mask and he's a killer. That's why I got called in. To help Rogers. It was a murder scene...I don't recognize the victim, but this guy seemed to know things he shouldn't," he replied.

"And he thinks you'll catch him so he tried to kill you!" she realized.

"Shh...I'm okay, thanks to my amazing, incredible, and stunningly beautiful wife," he told her with reverence, as he looked down at her like she was his everything. Oh, how she had missed that look from him.

"Beautiful? I'm a mess...I probably look like a drowned rat," she complained. He chuckled. He scoffed.

"Please...you're the most beautiful thing I have ever and will ever see," he replied, as he crushed her lips against his again, simply drinking her in.

"David?!" they heard a familiar voice calling.

"Rogers…" he said.

"Killian...oh Gods David. Where is Emma?" she wondered. He gazed back at her, feeling just as lost as she was.

"I don't know...but we'll find her Snow. We'll find her," he promised, as they trekked up the steep hill.

"Bloody hell...what happened?" Rogers questioned.

"I think I had an encounter with our killer...but thankfully, Mary found me and saved me," he said, as he looked at her fondly. She had found him, in more ways than one.

"The killer got him with a knife. We need to get it looked at," Mary insisted.

"Dr Aeson was discreet last time we consulted her," Rogers suggested. David smiled at the prospect of seeing Eva.

"Yes, Dr. Aeson is the one we should go to. If the killer is this bold to attack a cop, then I think we better keep the press out if we can. A city wide panic that we have a serial killer is the last thing we need," David suggested.

"Do you really think this is serial? He's only killed once," Rogers reminded.

"Unfortunately, I'm almost certain that this man will kill again," David stayed gravely, as they headed for the hospital.

~*~

Baron Samdi poured himself a drink from his collection of expensive liquor and then one for his grandson, who was joining him for a nightcap.

"You've been quiet this evening," Baron mentioned.

"Just thinking about...everything. I have a good practice before all this, you know," Franklin mentioned.

"Yes...you should be proud," Baron agreed.

"I worked twice as hard as anyone else in my field to make something out of the tarnished legacy you left behind for me," he said bitterly.

"We have been over this...I am what I am and it is not my fault that the simpletons in this land don't appreciate my talents," Baron replied.

"And you think Snow White and Prince Charming's chalice can open their eyes?" Franklin questioned.

"Snow White and her Charming waste its power. In my hands...think of the things it could do. You want success...then this extraordinary object is the way…" Baron said, as he pressed a button on the underside of his desk. A panel slid back in the wall, revealing the chalice in its hiding place. Except, peculiarly, it was glowing and pulsing with white light.

"Is...is it supposed to be doing that?" Franklin asked.

"No...it should not be able to do that. It's not supposed to have power in this land...at least not until she changes this world," Baron uttered.

"Then why is it glowing?" Franklin asked. Baron knew it meant something significant had occurred with its owners, but couldn't be certain as to what. But whatever it was...it was not good for them...