#shes not technically dead yet but shes real damn close

[starstaiined]

me, leaning into the microphone: this is a little psa to all my comfort characters ... STOP FUCKING DYING, YOU BITCHES KNOW WHO YOU ARE. thank you.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Hello! I just saw your Matriarch post! Can you possibly do a prologue about her backstory and her going to the other dimension with a batfamily and batmom that are still alive and together? And possibly a part 1 where she just walks into the Batcave one night after she sends out an all-call to the bats and the league and once they all start questioning what is going on she comes out and tells them about her backstory and how she'll prevent her future from happening by offing the rogues one by one and saying something like "I'm the only one who could ever succeed in doing this. And do you know why... it's because I know exactly how each and every hero and villain alike think. I know every plan and protocol in place that both sides of the gallery (i.e. meaning the heroic side and villainous side) have in place, how to stop or outsmart them, and every single possible move any of you could make against me. If you think you can stop your wife, mother, friend, or whatever else I am to you, then by all means... I invite you all to play my game, if you can capture me AND discover my plan, then I'll stop for good and go back to my time. But should I be victorious, well, the world and all of you are MINE."

Sorry for it being so long! And for the long monologue!

[Damn, that is good!!]

[Matriarch Au]

Notes.

In this au (Y/N) pretends to be a hero for the public sake. A part-timer of the league in the future.

Bruce doesn't know (but has suspicion) she is killing or torturing almost half of his rouge gallery.

She's afraid that Bruce won't love her become of his no-killing code.

There's technically a "(Y/N)" in this timeline who meets Bruce and falls in love. But, The Matriarch technically killed her before she could meet Bruce.

But here's another question. How does this (Y/N) interact with the Batfamily?

Since (Y/N) knows of each horrible thing that has happened to her children and lover. Batmom is very protective then most other Batmoms.

She still wants to give her children freedom, but also knows that when she did... They were beaten or almost killed for the sake of protecting others.

Batmom decided to mess with this world's timeline so it would be better than her own. But still deliberately decided to let some things stay the same.

1st Example, Dick Grayson. Now depending if Batmom came around before Dicks parents demise is up to you. But in this instance where she did, Batmom would try to save his parents but it doesn't work out.

2nd would be Jason, this is where it gets kinda fucked up.

Batmom is a very caring individual but Matriarch isn't.

Batmom would do whatever she can to make sure Jason will never know of his mother being alive. Batmom will even go out of her way to guilt-trip Jason and emotionally manipulate him. To the point where he doesn't care if his real mother is alive or dead.

But, if Jason does end up curious and decides to find his mother. Aw hell he ain't gonna be free from Batmoms protection. Including Matriarch.

Batmom will get Bruce on her side to not let Jason out of the house or better yet city to look for his mother. It will take a lot of convincing and emotional manipulation part two. Anything regarding Jason's mother or possibly anyone close to bearing resemblance is wiped from the Bat-computer database.

If Jason managed to find a way to convince Batmom or escape Gotham. You are three steps ahead as Batmom or Matriarch.

The only way Jason could even wind up dead is if Batmom was a second too late.

From that point on if that happens, it'll be a much worse for the latter members and friends of the Batfam.

(Y/N) has and will install trackers on everything and anyone. Your always listening, always alert.

You'll put on the facade sure, but the truth of it all is that.. You're no longer just "scared". No you're terrified, to the point you have the smallest threat or villain is your biggest enemy.

-

[I'll write more for Batmom/Yandere/Villain reader! I swear! If you guys want more let me know, I still gotta describe how Matriarch Au deals with villains.]

[Maybe even write a angst dead dove do not eat fic later hopefully. Thank you for reading!]

[daandyli0n]

so. decided to draw some more realistic noses. think i did pretty well.

anyway!! the MCI kids in my Rewrite!

fun facts for y'all:

Naomi and Gabi were Liz's best friends before she died.

Baker absolutely loved Bonnie. favorite animatronic. he wanted to be a rock star when he grew up, just like his hero.

Baker never wore shoes anywhere. he also had these Animal Paw socks that his mom got for him that he also wore everywhere.

y'know the saying that's like "Queer people tend to form groups together, even if not all of them have realized they're queer yet"? that summarizes the MCI + Charlie and Cassidy (CC). to give some examples:

Gabi is actually transfem.

Baker and Naomi are aroace, but in different ways. Naomi thinks dating is gross and dreads Valentine's Day. don't get her wrong, getting cards and stuff is nice, but...Christ, can the boys get annoying. she's one of the popular girls, she gets it, but JESUS. Baker? well, for one, the kid's five. but he also just kinda doesn't care in general.

Felix's entire philosophy on gender is "I Don't Give A Shit; Call Me What You Want." kid does Not give a fuck, they've got other things to worry about.

Kelsey is also technically transfem, but never got to really explore that. he has brought the topic up to Cassidy before while they were dead though; "Do you ever have moments where you think you're not a boy?" "I mean yeah, but we're kinda busy trying to kill my dad, Kel-" take this as you will for what that means for Cassidy.

anyway, back to regular headcanons (i mean. if they're my versions of the MCI that are all basically ocs in this rewrite, are they really headcanons?):

Baker and Kelsey were really close to Cassidy, because their brothers (Mike, Jeremy, and Andrew) all knew each other and hung out.

not a single one of these kids are neurotypical. not a one.

Baker is specifically AuDHD (autism + ADHD). to everyone else he's just the most hyperactive kid with a Bonnie obsession in existence.

as y'all can guess, Baker was the youngest :(

Kelsey and Andrew don't have a great home life.

these kids were all friends with Cassidy before they all died.

Baker deals with that "fun" thing where you go into a room and forget why you're there and/or how you got there. it's why Bonnie seems to teleport. it's just because he wanders around and doesn't realize he's reached a place until he's suddenly there. scares the shit out of nightguards, though!

Baker thinks that he's done the coolest thing he could've possibly done; he's BECOME Bonnie. whether that's a coping mechanism for his current situation or he genuinely sees this as an upside is up to y'all.

Baker's surprisingly the least aggressive soul out of the others. he wants vengeance, but he can tell that these nightguards ain't the guy. his "aggression" is just him being a silly little guy, really. he just wants to play with someone!! unfortunately, being in an animatronic makes it much easier to kill someone. poor kid :(

Felix, aside from Cassidy, is the most aggressive. in his eyes, it was the employees' responsibility to keep his safe and from dying. William didn't even try to hide it when he took him. he was in view of the cameras and everything in that suit. and yet no one seemed to notice when he was taken. no one came to stop William from taking him to the back. him killing the nightguards has more to do with bitterness and anger at nothing being done to save him than vengeance against a killer he didn't recognize. he knows damn well who killed him, the kid's just pissed.

Baker recognized Jeremy when he was a nightguard, and didn't attack him the rest of the night. did fuck around with him, though. brothers, am i right?

Gabi really likes hiding under tables so that she doesn't have to talk to people. shy girl, y'know?

Naomi really likes dogs. she kept begging her parents for a dog and, while they promised her one, never got around to getting her a real one. guess how William lured her. Guess.

Naomi, like Susie, was the first of the MCI.

Kelsey liked to draw (and still does, as a ghost. although his drawings after death are less...cheerful, to put it one way)

[chevelleneech]

Still on the finale, because of course I am

And as such, I must say

…what the hell was going on!?

Bobby was in a coma for barely half the episode, after being dead for 14 minutes. Sergeant Athena I’m-not-a-corrupt-cop Grant accosted a man her husband nearly killed, at gun point, threatening to kill him because she decided he set her house on fire. Chim and Maddie became foster parents in the blink of a fucking eye. Buck had no real point this episode other than to be present in scenes that the audience aren’t meant to view as meaningful, despite the repetitive nature in which he is always present for his male bestie with whom he was assumed to be dating. Tommy was just there, as always. They spent too much time with Amir and the Cartel, when quite frankly, that should have been the cliffhanger at the very least. And lastly, Eddie had the most near sensible storyline this episode, with Chris not talking to him then wanting to leave, and him not wanting him to go, yet even that was sullied by it being given a lack of importance.

Eddie and his parents should have been going back and the entire episode about this, because it’s that important. Isolating Chris to his bedroom, was ridiculous. I understand Gavin may not be entirely capable, perhaps, of committing to emotional scenes the way this would have required, but that just means Tim and co should have written it in a way that allowed us to see Chris’s grief as a child who has the same disabilities and potential neurodivergence as Gavin, seeing as he’s playing very close to himself anyway. But I think the episode would have benefited from the audience hearing from Chris as we’ve done in the past with lighter emotional topics.

Outside of that, this was the most pointless and anti-climactic season finale of any show I think I’ve ever watched. Yes, Gerard is back and that’s a big deal for what it will mean for the characters next season, but… was it a surprise? No, because they had him at the ceremony for no reason. I guess anyone who isn’t chronically online would have been shocked, but everyone on here is as overly invested as I am so like, it’s whatever, but damn.

I wish something was unexpected. Although, I guess technically it was the BT date, because no one thought they’d have Buck sit down after all that emotional stress to have a date night type meal, but that was the writers way of making Tommy the man Buck goes home to, even though they refuse to commit to them in a serious way. They ended them with a joke that was funny but contextually inappropriate, and that was that, as is every BT interaction has been the entire season.

Anyway, I really hope season 8 will regain the magic the first few seasons held. Seasons 2-4 especially, and imo, plenty of episodes in 5 and 6. Because I truly do not understand what happened. I know ol girl took over in 5 and 6, but Tim coming back made the show worse. So was it the network execs who actually saved the earlier seasons? For real, who was around to keep things flowing as well as they once were? We need them back. I mean, I completely understand and was in full support of the strikes, and I know Tim chose to change Buck’s storyline at the last minute, but him changing one character should not have dragged down every one else’s too.

Chimney getting sick was the best episode of the season by far, and honestly felt as thought out as the cruise arc. So I’m assuming Tim had it at least partially drafted, and Kenny Choi delivered as he always does. But honestly, they even had Angela coming across as stiff with some of her dialogue, and Mother is truly one of the greatest to ever do it. Someone just seriously missed the mark this year, and after all the hoopla about it being a top rated series and deserving its renewal compared another series… it didn’t prove itself, I’m sorry to say.

If we get 18 episodes back, I really hope Tim and co figure things out and try to realign with what fans enjoy about the series and with what he wants to say. Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter about ships, it’s about the story. It’s about making us fear for these characters lives, even though we know they don’t plan to kill anyone off. It’s about giving them calls to respond to, that puts them in harms way the entire time only for them to either prevail or fail. It’s about the guest stars who play the citizens in need, who break our hearts and make us smile just as much as the 118 does.

This show had something so special, because it’s found family genuinely felt like family. Their hurt was our hurt, and their love was our love. Until s7. Now, they seem like damn near every other procedural drama on tv where the cast chemistry is there (for almost everybody), and the acting is solid for what’s being given, but the spark isn’t entirely there. I want the spark back.

[cloudbattrolls]

Fragments

Guardian Artifice | Outside Quilis's Hive | Time Inexact - Recent

Arty knew Gliese was coming - it could hear her small feet approaching as it left the hive - almost certainly to pepper it with questions, but it knew it was better to let the blueblood do so.

“Hey, Eileit - " (the skepticism in her voice made it clear she probably knew it was a fake name) “ - no wriggling away this time, pal.”

It looked at her with the placid maroon eyes it had in this guise.

“Hm?”

She gave it a look with her glowing orange eyes, staring it up and down.

“Since Quilis doesn’t wanna question you for whatever reason, I’m doing it.”

“Oh, go ahead.” Said Arty, shrugging its shoulders.

She paused, but only for a moment.

“So what are you, anyway.”

“Not a troll.” It said blithely, rewarded by her ears flicking in annoyance.

“No fucking shit.” She shot back, arms folded. “So what are you exactly.”

It laughed softly.

“Biotechnology.”

“Still not a good enough fucking answer, but okay, sure. That explains a few things. Now why does biotechnology want to do the dusting?”

Trolls were always on about things like that. Like it was so hard to believe that cleaning could be enjoyable. ‘Oh, you’re so strong, isn’t that beneath you?’ 

True, it had other reasons, but it didn’t dislike the work. Not at all.

“I feel like it.” It said with a shrug.

She pulled out her scythe and stepped closer.

“Better answers. Now.”

It blinked, unbothered. “I genuinely enjoy it. I haven’t hurt Quilis or the hive. What’s this about?”

“It’s that you don’t seem to feel fear. It’s that you just appeared one night, real fucking conveniently. It’s that Quilis for whatever reason hasn’t tossed you out on your presumably metal ass. Maybe she thinks it’s smarter to keep you close to watch you or whatever, but I don’t. You could just be biding your damn time until you do something. Report on her, maybe.”

It snorted. “Of all the reasons to be suspicious of me - and I’ll admit you have some points - I can promise that’s not one. Believe me or not, it doesn’t matter, but I would never turn Quilis in.” It said with a shake of its head. “It wouldn’t go well for me either.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re a criminal, then. Or some criminal’s tool.”

It smiled with amusement. “Technically both.”

The blueblood was unmoved. “Yeah, that’s not enough to convince me. You have a weird fucking magical signature - or rather, you don’t really have one, you have no aura. Yet you do have a soul, you definitely have a soul. A fucking weird one. You might be artificial, but there’s something in you that’s not. Damned if I can tell what it is, but I know it’s there.”

It tilted its head.

“You’re a necromancer. All things that are dead once lived, yes? All things that live can die. Except…there are different forms of being alive. Different kinds of deaths. The thing about trolls is - you tend not to realize how much is alive around you. You forget that you, too, can be a part of something alive, something much more vast.”

She squinted suspiciously.

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

It looked up at the sky, quickly growing lighter.

“You should get back inside. The sun will rise soon.”

“Not until you tell me what the fuck you are.”

“You likely wouldn’t understand if I did.” It said simply. “Or you wouldn’t believe me. All I can say is - I am not a threat to Quilis. I swear it on the Spine.”

The hare troll paused, lowering her weapon as she frowned in confusion. 

“The what?”

“Just know it is something very important to me.” It said, humming. “As other guardians like her are important to me. Those who ward against the empire, and other threats.”

The sky was growing - for a troll - dangerously bright.

Gliese retreated backwards, clearly dissatisfied, but having no choice.

“We’re not done.” She muttered as she put her scythe away and ran back in the mansion.

They were. Arty would not answer her questions again, but it figured humoring her once was enough.

The red sun bathed the artifice as it rose, and it shut its eyes, basking in the rays as it absorbed the light for energy.

There was comfort and peace in the world.

Even if it was a living and frightened thing.

[zorosnavigator]

My to do (one day i swear) fics masterlist (forgive the messy summaries and useless commentary i literally made this two weeks after seeing the movie and didnt touch it until today lol )

1 Titanic AU for this one im still thinking abt the general plot (edit 28/01: i have the plot but i have to write it lol)

2 Coryo has his grandma and cousin 'captured', it has some consequences on his psyche and thoughts... ( he believes them dead--> during the scene after the games with Highbottom implies they might be dead the little shit) and is directly (like literally forced, hes not allowed to see his family) sent in District 12....

3 (in this one they're technically older than in canon), before the war they meet many times (from 10 to 15/16y), then the war happens: they meet again during these events, (the Covey didnt partake in the war in the novel, but im still deciding though if Lucy Gray'll choose a 'side' to help or not...edit 28/01: she will pick a side hehe and not its Coryo's) ...(...maybe , after, the angst during the war, then the 13 win and they meet at opposite side of the line...and then forced to be together due to the new 'Games'.?????..bruh i have so many tropes and AU mixed in this one)

4 okay, so this is a Star Wars AU...(not Anidala i swear...they just...dont fit them i think) so idk if you watched Rogue One, but it'll be loosely inspired by this movie...

5 College/University AU, where Coryo is forced (literally, he is blackmailed by professor Highbottom) to tutor Lucy Gray otherwise he (C. Highbottom) wont valid his stage/work (or smt like that idk precisely yet since i dont know a damn thing abt American or British university ) - and he choose Lucy Gray especially for him bc he knows Coryo'll be pissed abt it and wont succed (well, he thinks he knows Coryo wont succeed, but little did he know...) so Coryo not exactly happy abt having to tutor this...girl. (pretty snobby abt it too)...their start is very...rocky...(i have written their meeting scene (well, the official meeting) already )

6 (edit 28/01: this one is very shitty i hesitated to let it on this post but here take what my snowbaird brainrot managed to imagine lol) ...due to the fragile 'peace' between districts and Capitol after the war, the new government decided to send children/teens/adult to differents district or Capitol (a sort of 'exchange'.... well and also 'you start doing suspicious things, we have your people in 'hostage' kind of thing) and for them to live in it (for a limited amount of time), and if they succeed without raising any problems, they can come back 'home' (little did kid Coryo know he will end up loving district 12....not right away of course, right now hes rather angry, disgusted by 12 and a condescending little shit... )

7 (edit 28/01: i wrote a more insightful plot for this, i'll add it tomorrow) Lucy Gray, killed in the forest wake up to the day of her reaping.

8 another modern AU (sorry if u dont like that) inspired by Mamma mia (i fully blame the whole movie album) with, of course some twist and changes...(edit 28/01: it can works my brain said so to me)

9 WHELP. ANOTHER MODERN AU. so. i wont detail everything here (its the first fic idea i had and i did work a little more on it ) but, Coryo after 3/4 years in the military (forced by his mom but theres more to it of course also,/ not thinking abt real military accuracy now) come back to see his friend Sejanus - yeah, he really is friend (reluctant) Sejanus in this,(Sejanus, who due to some events- his father death???- created with his mom a scholarship for students who live in less priviligied areas of the town/or country??? still thinking abt it ) . So. Coryo come back just to see his only (with Clementia of course) friend doing buddy buddy with Lucy Gray. Lets say hes not happy....

10 Im sure others already thought of this one, but if Highbottom was more of a close 'mentor/fatherly' figure to him after the war??? ( not only, but also manipulating Coryo to his own ends)

12 And Actors AU because well, they're both performers in their own right and Actor/actress + (fake dating maybe??) + a past still haunting them + lowkey despise you = perfect angst.

[greyias]

Prompts for Days: 41. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

A semi-sequel to this fic. Based on my original very incorrect theory on what horrible creature might eat my beloved turtle son in the Rishi stronghold.

The sand was soft and fine under Theron’s feet, and the breathtaking blue waters of Rishi lapped at his toes as the waves fell in succession on the shore. He and his wife walked over the shore, their fingers laced together, the warm sun and summer breeze dancing in their hair. It was another beautiful, balmy day in this slice of paradise that Theron still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that it was theirs.

This was their first visit to their secret little hideaway on Rishi, purchased on an impulse during their honeymoon. The deep ding into their savings still smarted every time he logged into their account — but it was worth every credit, to see the wide, beaming smile on his wife’s face as they walked down the Defender’s boarding ramp to look out on their home away from home.

He’d had to arrange for a proper inspection, furniture delivery, and all the less than ideal aspects of home ownership before they’d had to return to “real life” on Odessen. As a result, they hadn’t had time on their honeymoon to explore the breadth of the property. Although he had managed to sneak in at least one “celebration” up on the balcony that overlooked the magnificent view that was now technically “theirs”. 

This second trip, though, was all about relaxing and enjoying themselves. They were taking it slowly, savoring the seclusion and paradise that was their little slice of heaven. They ambled along the shoreline towards the unexplored edge of their property, and the large sea turtle who’d been sunning itself on the rocky part of the shoreline noticed the two humans and lumbered in their direction.

But despite the moniker lovingly given to him by Grey, “Speedy” was having difficulty keeping up with their pace.

Her face lit up on seeing Speedy — really, half the reason they had bought this place was just so he could see that look on her face, again and again. Their pace was forced to slow as she gushed over the little guy, telling the turtle about how much she’d missed him. If Theron didn’t know any better, he’d almost think the creature actually understood her.

“That’s quite the smile you’ve got there, Theron Shan.” She squeezed his hand, the wind blowing the loose strands from her ponytail around her face. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just admiring the view,” he said, pulling her a little closer so she would realize he wasn’t talking about the beach, or that damn turtle.

Her cheeks flushed red, freckles on her nose crinkling as she tried to duck her head. “I’m—”

“The absolute best view here on Rishi? Mm, yes, I’d have to say so.”

“You’re just trying to get me back up on that balcony again.” The red flush deepened ever so slightly.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Later. When Speedy has gone back to his cave. I don’t want to mentally scar him.”

“He’s a turtle. I don’t think he cares.” He looked down at the reptile in question. “Isn’t that right, Shell-face?”

“Theron, it’s a turtle. He doesn’t speak Basic.”

“You’re the one concerned about his mental health!”

“He still has feelings!”

“So do you,” he leaned in close, voice low and husky, “and I’d like to explore them.”

“You’re incorrigible.” The crimson flush spread down the column of her neck, and turned her head with a flutter of her eyelashes.

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘not yet’. I still want to see where that path leads.”

“Pretty sure it’s a dead end,” he replied, letting her hand slip back into its familiar place against his palm as they wound their way down the shady, rock-lined footpath at the edge of the beach.

A thin trickle of seawater made its way back into the perimeter of their property along the path. The trek was made more hazardously slick by the loose, damp sand that coated the terrain.

“It almost looks like a drainage ditch,” Grey mused idly. “Was that on the plans?”

“I left my datapad back in the apartment,” he reminded her. “You said no work.”

She huffed out a breath. “This is a vay-cay-tion.”

“And yet we somehow still spend it finding new adventures,” he shot back.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Well, that was true. With Grey around, Theron’s life had never been boring. A vacation was all about recharging and enjoying the finer things in life; spending time together and getting to know one another in a way that was impossible in the constant chaos that was their daily lives.

Although he should have known that nonstop adventures came with the territory of marrying a Jedi. He had just hoped for their vacation adventures to be more of the bedroom variety. 

They continued to carefully pick their way along the path, until it reached what looked like an old, rusty drainage pipe jutting out from the edge of a cliff, a large metal grate blocking the way.

“Looks like the end of the road,” he said.

“Hold on,” she said, pulling her hand out from his as she frowned, approaching the grate. “I think... There’s a note here?”

“A note?” Theron frowned. “On a sewer grate? Why would anyone bother to leave a note there?”

She shushed him, leaning forward to peer at a large sign that had been nailed in the center of the grate. Her hand brushed across the sign.

“It’s a notice of some sort.”

“What kind of notice?”

“Caution,” she read out loud, “do not open. It’s always hungry.”

“Hungry?” Theron frowned. “What is always hungry?”

“It’s...” she trailed off, a frown stealing across her features as she suddenly straightened, like someone had plucked a string on an instrument only she could hear. “It’s big.”

“It? What is ‘it’—?”

That’s when he heard the eponymous ‘it’ — the deep clack of large claws snapping, and the low thunder like rumble of large legs stomping from the darkness, as a giant cove crab lunged at the grate. The thing was massive, at least twice the size of the shaclaws that roamed Sky Ridge Island and Raider’s Cove. Its large, muscular legs seemed almost small compared to the menacing claws that could easily crush any creature unfortunate enough to cross its path.

Kind of like them.

Grey leapt back in one graceful movement, speed enhanced by the Force that flowed through her. The metal creaked and groaned as the beast flung itself, trying to grab at easy prey.

“Yeah, I would say that thing looks hungry,” he shouted, his hand instinctively going towards his hip where his blaster usually sat, but only brushed against the slick material of his swim trunks.

Right. Vacation. 

Meaning he’d actually, for once in his life, left his weapon back up at the apartment—they both had. Because this was meant to be a relaxing trip. 

The metal on the grate groaned as the crab flung itself at the metal separating it from its breakfast. It had clearly been installed a long, long time ago — and public works hadn’t exactly been a strong point on Rishi since the pirates had taken over. From the amount of rust on the grate, the sea air had been corroding the metal for some time.

“I don’t think that’s going to hold much longer,” he said, as the mass of claws and spikes kept throwing itself at the barrier.

Even as he said it, the metal on the grate gave another great groan, and the panel burst outwards towards them. In the split moment before it fell, Grey had leapt backwards, yanking Theron with her. They tumbled across the rocky path before both scrambling to their feet to face the now free and very hungry monstrosity.

The crab snorted, the thick, green carapace on its back shuddering as it chittered, then lunged towards them. With instincts borne from a lifetime of battle, they avoided the claws that snapped at them, just barely as they tried to maintain their footing on the slippery sand.

“We should probably run,” Theron said. “Seafood is not really my thing. And you’re a vegetarian.”

Humor was how Theron coped, even in, or especially if the timing was horrible. She shot him a glare even as she propelled him down the path with a shove of the Force.

“Go!” she shouted.

That was kind of the plan they both had in action, but as he turned around, he saw that she had stopped following, and instead had planted herself square in the crab's path.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Distracting it,” she called over her shoulder. “Save Speedy!”

“Speedy?” Theron sputtered. “You want me to save the damn turtle?”

“He’s our friend,” she called, as she dodged a swipe of claws, “and I’m not letting the poor thing get eaten! There’s no way he’ll be able to outrun this thing!”

Theron frowned. She was right; he supposed. The turtle would have no chance of escaping the crab’s grasp. “But—”

Grey leapt into the air, the jump propelled to unnatural heights by the Force. The crab opened its claws, missing her by a hair’s breadth as she flipped mid-air. She arced over its head before landing gracefully on its shell.

“Have you lost your kriffing mind?” Theron shouted.

“Go!”

She was not making a suggestion. She was giving an order. He snorted an angry breath, but knew that there was no arguing with her when she switched into heroic Jedi mode. He charged back down the path, hoping to maybe find something he could turn into a makeshift weapon against the giant crab — only to see the shell of one, stubborn and clearly unwary sea turtle peek around the corner as it steadily made its way down the path after his human friends. 

“Oh, for the love of—!” Theron cursed as he ran towards the stupid reptile. “No, Speedy! Get back!”

The turtle just gave Theron a wide-eyed, almost confused look, as he wrapped his arms around the animal’s shell and attempted to heave it up into his arms—and nearly threw out his back at attempting to heft five hundred pounds of stubbornly immovable Testudine.  

“Speedy,” he growled, “you need to go on a diet!”

Theron abandoned his attempts to carry the animal out of harm’s way and instead tried to push the turtle back towards the beach. Speedy just blinked at the spy, and Theron could swear he looked offended. 

“Just go!” he yelled.

Speedy blinked at him once. Twice. And then, at turtle-like speed, took a step towards the beach. Then another. Theron looked back over his shoulder at the giant crab bearing down on the both of them.

Seeming to finally sense the danger, Speedy peered its head in the direction Theron was looking, took one look at the beast lumbering towards them—and retreated into his shell.

“That is not helpful!”

He was going to die.

Eaten by a giant man-eating crab as he tried and failed to protect a blasted sea turtle. It was, quite possibly, the most embarrassing way to go. His only comfort was that he would be too dead to hear anyone mock him about it.

Theron looked up from his failed attempts to move the stubborn turtle, and watched as the beast coming towards them suddenly veered away as if directed to by an unseen force—or rather, the Force. He spied his wife, still atop the crab, holding her hand out, as if directing the creature’s movements. 

It passed by man and turtle without a second look, heading down the path and towards the beach. Theron scrambled to his feet, leaving Speedy behind as he tried to keep pace.

Despite the crab’s best efforts to buck Grey off, she kept her balance. As the massive beast hit the wet sand, she braced her feet against the carapace and pushed off with all her strength, flipping high into the air as it crashed into the waves and kept on swimming.

She landed in the soft sand, panting, hand still held out as if still directing the beast with the Force.

Theron finally reached his wife and caught her in his arms before she fell to her knees. She flashed him a grateful smile, before turning a worried gaze at the green shell disappearing off into the horizon. “I hope that isn’t a mistake to send it that way.”

“Well, I hope it eats those stupid pirates,” Theron muttered petulantly.

“Theron Shan,” she admonished. “Don’t be mean.”

“Yeah, well,” he brushed her bangs out of her face as he looked her over for any signs of injury, “after dealing with a crab the size of a rancor, I’ve earned the right to be a little cross.”

“That was not exactly what I had expected to find,” she admitted.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’m all right,” she assured him, and then smiled so wide that her nose crinkled, “and so is Speedy.”

“Yeah, not for lack of trying.”

“You’re still my hero,” she said, as she rose to her feet and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Enough of a hero to get you back out on that balcony?” He asked, pulling her closer.

“Hmm,” she considered, leaning into his embrace. “You were pretty brave.”

As if on cue, the turtle poked its head around the corner, looked at the couple, chirped, and then made its way over to his rescuer. Speedy nudged Grey’s hand with his head and then made a little huffing noise before he rubbed his shell against her hand.

Theron rolled his eyes, trying his best not to smile at the cooing noises she was making as she pet the turtle. 

“Next time, I’m leaving you with the crab.”

“Aw, he doesn’t mean that,” she assured Speedy. “He’s just grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Theron protested as he pulled his wife closer to his embrace. “Just ready to get back to our vacation.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Grey agreed, as she closed her eyes and leaned into her husband’s embrace, and absently run her hand over Speedy’s shell.

Together, the three of them watched the sun as it continued its slow ascent into the sky, basking them in its warm glow. And for this moment, at least, all was calm and peaceful. Just the two of them, enjoying a tranquil tropical morning.

And a giant, cowardly turtle.

[autemtoday]

SQUEEZE DAY

BY BENNIE CASTLE

Autem Publications ®

(An Original Sci-Fi )

Today will be Z's last day or, instead, his first day as a corpse. The irony; is how death brings breath into a depreciating existence. A man's last sip of water from a small recyclable cup; the least they could provide for the soon-to-be-dead man. The cooler is icy, As his final request, instead of identifying himself by his birth name, he is known by the letter 'Z.' Henceforth, this is his appointed moniker, which he will leave behind. Nothing is wrong with him, technically; No unbearable cancer, virus, or disease. Z is closer to forty than he is to thirty years of age, Z is not the most athletic or out-of-shape person, either. He was somewhat husky, taller than the average male, with dark-colored hair still upon his head, sporting a casual business attire. Z's eyes sink, then close; he sits back and retires. Four other people await patiently by their seats in the office.

An old man speaks, looking directly at Z with much trouble, and says," I remember when churches would protest In front of places like this..." Z reflects on his words, opens his eyes, and then looks at him. He is a slim man, wearing thick-rimmed glasses, a pair you would expect from an older person. His dotty pupils give the impression of rapid dilation because of them. Z replies, "I remember last month when churches would ask if I could donate my assets before visiting, well, places like this" The old man chuckles softly, then introduces himself, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Al. Do you mind if I ask you a question, son...? What is someone like yourself doing at a Squeeze office? Had I walked in amongst everyone, I might have confused you with one of the docs." Z bides his time. He considers the old man's words, then looks at the clock on the wall. "Oh no, I'm no Doctor, sir, real estate agent; rather, ex-real estate agent. My name is Z." It takes Al a while to process the information, and he scans Z again, uttering, "Well, okay, Zeke... you just seem out of place, is all." Z doesn't correct him. "I'm flattered, Al. I appreciate the concern, really, but it's a little too late. We're in this damn office on the national holiday of calling it quits. With Squeeze specials like these, who can pass them up? Just something you can't miss out on." Al's silence echoes subtle volumes- almost deafening. "Today's the 90th anniversary since the Big Squeeze & the ads still manage to haul us in, year after year, let alone week after week, huh?"

The old man's scowl makes his eyebrows appear much more extensive than they are, making up for his baldness. Suddenly, an apologetic expression befalls him. Both of his beady eyes fix upon Z again. "Back when I was your age, Zeke, this would have been the last place to find me. The 23rd century is just around the corner. What I would give to be young again, my boy." The old man quiets down, gaze remaining on Z." Different strokes for different folks, huh, old man?" A sly grin slips away from Z as his eyes look the other way.

'You're not funny, Z," says a 3rd voice. Al and Z turn their heads to see a young girl, frail yet stern, her eyes a ghastly green as if they can see through a man. "What? What isn't funny?" Says Z, nonchalantly looking around the room. She sighs, and an underwhelming look strikes her face. "The response? 'Different strokes for different folks, huh, old man?' It's not funny. Learn how to speak nice or say nothing at all, Z." The pompous attitude, followed by a smirk, nauseates her; like how a ravaging hyena cowers over an expiring, meatless carcass; rotten." Forget that, that idiot, Albert. He should know better than to insult a stranger," she says. "I'm Joyce, by the way." her cheeks flush a hue of a reddish pink against her pale skin. Z turns over to look at them both; he scoffs, "What is this? Sensitivity training? He should know better than to gossip and interrogate a stranger. There's a specific clause on the Squeeze contract explicitly stating what constitutes protocol and what doesn't...!" He sucks his teeth, avoids their glances, and picks up a complimentary magazine off the office table.

Someone coughs intentionally and then laughingly says, "Emotions tend to run high on squeeze day. We're here until the doc calls; why not be here for one another? We're human, not cyborgs; these suicide facilities should know better than anyone. "

Al turns his head to greet and answer the voice next to him, "You're completely right, son, now what's your name? Maybe if we'd all introduce ourselves properly, we'd feel more comfortable." His look shifts back to Z. "Mono. I realize most folks prefer aliases at Squeeze facilities but no matter- We wouldn't need names in a couple of minutes from now, would we?" says the man. He surveys every other face around the waiting room with his red hair and dead eyes. Joyce's expression slowly turns from melancholy to extreme discomfort- as one would after realizing they've stepped in dog shit.

Everyone remains still, with their blank faces, painting an expression of nothingness. The Squeeze Office is where one greets death like a neighbor or a distant 2nd cousin on Christmas.

"It's not that complicated, I suppose. No, we get humanely rid of ourselves and bring a little joy to the world." The man across from him speaks, "It's not as simple, either, Mono. Do you not think of others- how they feel, at least the ones who remain after us? The damage could be worse over time."

"What about the hungry?" Says Mono. The man's wide gasp was like a statue for 5 seconds. He reclines in his seat and stares at him. "Huh, well, I think of others- Quite frankly, maybe better than you... Mr.?" "Motley, an alias, but my legal first name's translation suggests the same."

Mono's grin is priceless; a modern Rembrandt. '' Haven't our global leaders set the surplus organic Goods and foods act just a few years ago? We, at least the Fantome Party, care. I know our elect can handle the hunger pandemic breaks, give it two or three generations from now." Motley doesn't show any expression. If his eyes could narrow any closer, he might have burnt a hole through Mono's skull. "The Fantome Party? Aren't they a little ahead of themselves? Various parties argue they need more real math for successful curvature. Squeeze facilities prove time and time again to be twice effective," says Z. The magazine is almost thrown back unto the table. Motley rolls his eyes, his head towards the windows, and says, "Sometimes the lack of compassion is worse than lack of food. The hungry stomach outlasts the hungry soul. What good is living when you're already dead inside?" Mono grins and looks over at everyone in the waiting room, ''Precisely what I mean. See that girl over there? Joyce? She's terminally ill at the age of sixteen. What good is living when you're already dead inside? This world doesn't rely on twinkle dust and smiles, ok? It relies on economic values. Acknowledge this one truth first; Motley." His gaze crosses Albert's, then Joyce, "Have you no manners? Joyce is technically still a child; what does she know about life? Even with the little time left, death needs no space to occupy her mind. Have you no pity? ... This age of ours, one of over-saturation, overpopulation, and overstimulation isn't humane sometimes. I've seen people break weeks before their appointed squeeze appointment!"

.......

-TO BE CONTINUED -

[slasherwhxre]

Hello, I hope you have a nice day! Can I ask of Michael, Freddy, Bubba, Amanda and Pinhead (from movies) reacting on the reader who plays DBD and when playing as the killer plays as their counterpart from game, and as a survivor be are chased by one of them?

hi! interesting idea!!

Slashers' Reaction to: You Playing DBD w/ Their Characters

Character(s): Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Bubba Sawyer, Amanda Young, Pinhead

Michael Myers:

Michael catches sight of the blonde woman, which you seem to be controlling, as she staggers forward.

He watches, at least you think he does, but who can be sure other than himself? He does have a staring problem, after all.

In truth, he is paying some attention. The resemblance is undeniable, that is her and this is the street she was at that Halloween night.

One question remains to be answered — but also never asked, as always — though, what has you so worried you feel the need to slam your fingers and panic like this?

Then Michael finds out.

Same mask, same outfit, and no doubt the same knife his then-tiny hands first used in the year 1963.

'You', are running from him, hoping he won't get close enough to stab you.

And, well, suffice to say, Michael's rooting for the opposite outcome.

Unfortunately he's let down when you make a successful getaway.

Why must you torture him like this?

It's like blue balls to him, except ten times stronger and not sexual, plus the only blue thing is his jumpsuit anyway.

Bored of playing the prey, you switch to killer then. The Stalker pops up as default from the last time you played him and Michael beckons.

"You.. wanna play?"

Nod.

Was it strange of the Boogeyman to have better mannerisms when he wanted to kill people online for a change, technically speaking?

Yes or no, who cared, you didn't know. You did know for a fact that everyone in the world would've died to see him try, so, meh, you figure.

Why not humor him. At least he asked nicely, right?

And try, Michael did. But there was clearly not much need for him to put a lot of effort in.

Why is he so good at this?

Why would his real life experience really help his gameplay at all?

I literally taught him the controls five minutes ago!

Unnerving thoughts ran through your head as he put every last one of them on death hook one by one.

"Good thing the Entity is not real, but I'm sure you'd be really in demand if it was."

Finished and satisfied at last, he nodded. A good job well done, indeed.

Apparently Michael is really dedicated about killing — not surprising — and takes his passion and to every platform.

Freddy Krueger:

Laughs as your teammate snaps their finger to wake you up.

"What a damn buzzkill!"

Though the buzz is not yet dead, because they get downed while you're back to safety thanks to their sacrifice.

Boy can he watch you do this for hours.

The more your friends panic, the more of a joy it is for him.

Freddy can see why you find this fun, even though you have your own reasons for that.

Straight up amazed without any hiding when you tell him he can play as himself if he wants.

He does, although not the best.

"2/4 is good, that's half!"

"Beginners luck."

That pisses him off, but Freddy is determined to prove you wrong, just lend him your account for a weekend.

"Sure, but then it'll be just luck."

At this point, he's ready to get the game just to best you.

How does one say 1v1 me bro in scary burnt old man?

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba's ears pick up the distant noise of a chainsaw. That's his jam, don't you know?

He makes a curious little noise, wanting to know what's going on.

A teammate drops to their demise with a scream, but you're determined to prevent it.

"Sorry, Bubbs, can't explain now, but you'll see soon."

If you say so. Bubba sits down with a plop and attentively watches what you're doing.

He sees the hook, an all too familiar object.

Then the bloodstained yellow apron.

Realization falls upon Bubba, but he still feels the need to ask. He does so by being loud and pointing to the in-game him first, then his body.

Unfortunately, you're too engrossed in body blocking to answer him.

Fortunately, he's not a hundred percent aware of what you're preventing 'him' from doing, otherwise Bubba wouldn't exactly be ecstatic of it.

Thanks to your help, your friend manages to struggle down game Bubba's shoulder. Yet you don't seem to be as fortunate as them because his saw is on to you in seconds, and down you go.

"Well, you got me."

That confirms his previous suspicions.

You go right on the same hook you helped your friend avoid.

Able to differentiate between real life and video games, animalistic buy happy noises come out of his mouth.

Afterwards, you go in shop and show him the Canniball.

Bubba's curiosity is handsy at times, like now.

He traces the outline of his model, saying something, possibly critiquing his design and you wish you could understand.

"Whaddya say? Should we get it?"

Frantically excited, Bubba nods aggressively. "Alright, let's."

He is having the time of his life watching you go after survivors, expressing his emotions and reacting more than you at times.

Part of him is wondering if he can play too, but he's quite shy to tell you himself.

If you offer to teach him to play, he might feel more confident.

Bubba might get frustrated if he's unable to capture everyone at first, so please encourage him plenty of times and put your faith in him.

With reassurance, patience and practice, he'll do better and make you and himself proud.

Amanda Young:

If it wasn't for the character you're playing as, Amanda wouldn't have spared a second glance to your method of time wasting or whatever it was again.

Whoever's hands those are, there is a hidden blade under their right sleeve, just like hers.

"What's this one about?"

Roaring, you ambush an injured survivor, dashing to their frame in milliseconds and making them fall.

Amanda's eye twitches as the person on the ground lets out a shriek, and you address her question. "You."

"What?"

"A version of you that no longer believes in second chances, anyway."

Confused more than ever and unsure if you're messing with her, she sits down. "The fuck does that mean?"

"It's a game."

She tilts her head, looking at your face even if you're unable to return the favor. And?

"Not exactly like Jigsaw's, that's all."

Amanda's quieter with that, staring at a beeping reverse bear trap on a subject's head.

"Watch."

You don't have to tell her to pay attention, she knows up close and personal what's coming soon from the erratic beeping.

Still, her eyes widen a bit as the body drops to the ground.

"Guess she couldn't be saved."

"None of them are, that's the point."

The words send a light chill down her spine, but Amanda seems to recover pretty quickly.

"Play as one of them." And we'll see.

Demanding you play as a survivor against the Pig, surprisingly and patiently, she waits until you get her as the killer at last.

By the time you get lucky, she's pretty much into the gameplay as much as you are. This one is definitely not as boring as the others, at least.

Coincidentally, you get the map The Game, and once again Amanda shudders at how eeriely accurate it mostly is.

You put up a good fight, only getting hooked once and when you're rescued, you successfully remove the death machine on your head as well.

"See? Everyone is savable."

Pinhead:

Uninterested.

Why did you summon him when you're playing with your much less interesting, thin, technological box out of all times? Boring.

But why does one of the virtual humans seem to possess the box? Wait..

You make them open it.

Now his interest is piqued.

Of course, there are no hints to finding that out, aside from him narrowing his eyes ever so slightly at the bright screen.

You opened the box, I came.

Quietly watches over your shoulder, amused, as your character tries to untangle themselves from his never ending chains.

Definitely thinking you're not going to make it, no one escapes from him.

Well, you do.

Hmph. Unrealistic.

Turns out you don't, not for too long at least, because he gets two hits not even a minute after your unfortunately short-lived freedom.

Full on smirks at the turn of events, not that he expected anything else, but you're too busy trying to struggle out of 'his' grasp.

Try as you might to get away, you still die in the end.

He's weirdly enjoyed this process of fake him hurting fake people, you should definitely summon him each time you play.

There's little chance he'll ever give it a go, but he does seem to enjoy watching survivors in trials with himself, especially the misfortunes. Scratch that, only the misfortunes.

He will be visibly offended if you don't do a good job playing as him, however.

His, Mori, you mouth some basic in-game terminology every now and then that he happened to pick up, always makes up for it, though.

Definitely finds it to be a shame how the concept of Entity is only made up as he would've liked to learn about such a being.

[mackeydoodledoo]

A Real Hero

Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu x (Fem!Daughter of Ares)Reader

Summary: You were lost. You needed to fend for yourself. You were the runt of Ares’ kids. Yes, the god of war himself had told you that you were the runt of the pack, making you fall behind everyone else. However, meeting a certain red-head has you making other plans.

Warnings: Fighting, Small amount of Blood, Supposed Death

A/n: So, I’m Poseidon’s kid... But, I may or may not have a idea for a daughter of Poseidon to be paired with one of the other two daughters. 

“Supermassive Black Hole” - Muse [Play this when Joan splits off with Daniela to go hunting]

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

You had nowhere to go. You were shunned out by your brothers and sisters. Even your own father. You were the runt of the children of Ares. Meaning, you were the weakest link. Your own father had dropped you off at the same very forest. Haven’t heard from him, your mother or your siblings since.

Come on Joan... You got this...

You were exhausted. The glistening sweat rolled off your now toned arms as you were practicing your sword play skills. The tree however, wasn't so lucky. All of its peeled bark, all of its scars. Came from you. It looked like it was on the brink of death.

“Not so tough now are you?” You try to stupidly intimidate the nearly dead tree

God you sound stupid right now...

You take one heavy slash to the tree; it begins tumbling down. However, just as you about to chop it further, you hear a scream. Panic sets in as you immediately grab hold of the tree stump. You initially struggle to keep the other end of the tree’s weight. However, You shove it to the side, groaning in pain, clutching at your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” You ask, running over to the woman who screamed

Just barely grazing her shoulder with your finger, you wince in pain.

“Am I okay?!” She asks, turning to look at you, “Are you okay?! You’re the one who- oh my god...”

The other woman was in shock, but also intrigued. 

She looks down at your finger; blood... But, it wasn’t the crimson shade kind of blood. What was seeping out of your finger was a thick and Silver colored.

“How is your blood like that?” She asks, observing your finger like a gentle specimen

“It’s always been like this,” You chuckle

“Does it actually taste like blood?!” She asks

You look at her; her eyes dilated with curiosity. You look down at your feet, trying to come up with the best answer for her.

“How am I supposed to know?” You ask her, “I’ve never been one to taste my own blood.”

“Then let me be the first one,” She says, her tone dropping to a low, seductive tone

“Hey! What are you-” You protest

But it was too late. The tip of her tongue had ran right over the small prick in your finger. Your eyes widen as she begins gagging.

“Oh that was vile!” She wretches

“I tried warning you to not do that,” You chuckle, “But, did you listen?”

She punches your shoulder as she continues to gag out the contents of your blood.

“But for real though, how did you do that?” She asks

“Do.. What?” You ask her

“The... The.. You picked up a whole damn tree!” She exclaims, “No mortal could do that!” 

“That’s because I’m.. Not fully mortal...” Your voice trails off

“You’re... Not?” She asks, her eyes widening once more

“Demigod.. To be precise..” You begin explaining, “It’s when an immortal falls in love with a mortal... And they have kids... Kids like me.”

The woman doesn’t answer you...

Great... She’s freaked out...

“So... Let me get this straight... You’re... Half immortal?” She asks

Girl’s clueless...

“Technically.. Yes,” You answer her

“Wait until mother and my sisters hear when I bring you home,” She wickedly smiles

Wait.. What?...

When you opened your eyes you no longer found yourself basking in the sunshine.

“Just check her blood! She really is half immortal!” The familiar voice 

“Daniela, quit your games,” Another feminine voice calls to the sole familiar voice

“What is the meaning of this?” An older, robust yet soothing feminine voice walks in

“Daniela claims that she’s found a half immortal,” Another feminine voice says, but more hungrier than the other three

“But mother it’s true!” Daniela claims, “Look at her blood!” 

“Enough... Daniela,” The older woman sighs

By the time the arguing had died down, your fingers held your temples as you groaned in pain.

“Half-immortal,” The older woman calls to you

“Ow... What?” You look up

You had to adjust your neck in a slightly uncomfortable position as you stare straight up into the most giantess woman you have ever encountered.

“Tell me child...” She starts, “What is your name?”

“Joan...” You answer, “Joan Arc...”

“Are you truly half immortal?” She asks

“I am...” You say without a second thought

“Then prove it,” The blonde demands

“Now now Bela,” The older woman calms her blonde daughter, “But that you shall do for us.”

“What happens if I refuse?” You ask, standing on your two feet

“We’ll feed your scraps to the pigs,” The brunette growls 

“Cassandra enough!” Daniela demands, grabbing her sisters’ wrist

Cassandra turns to the red head and begins growling at her like a primal animal. You were about to step in before you see the older woman beginning to raise her hand.

“Cassandra... Daniela,” She sighs, “On this evening’s hunt she will accompany the three of you. Cassandra...”

The brunette straightens herself out when the woman called her name. 

“Do show her the armory for this evening,” She gently commands

“Of course mother,” She answers, “Half and half.”

Cassandra turns to you.

Great... A nickname already...

“You coming or not?” She asks

You walk towards her as you felt claw-like fingernails dig into your skin as you are bragged out of what looked to be the bedchambers. You catch a glimpse of Daniela; the woman you had saved from earlier in the day. You give her a small smile before Cassandra rounds the corner, knocking you into the doorframe.

“Come on,” Cassandra growls

“So... Half and half,” Cassandra teases at your nickname, taking a gaze at the weapons in the armory room

“It’s Joan,” You correct her coldly

“What brought you to our castle grounds anyway?” She asks, completely ignoring your correction

“Actually your sister... Daniela brought me here against my will so...” You joke, but also tell the truth

“She doesn’t know when to stop bringing toys into the castle,” Cassandra sighs

Toys?... Is she for real?...

“I was cast off, unwanted by my own father,” You explain, “I was the weakest of his kids... All of my siblings had their backs turned to me when I was casted out of the cabin...”

“That’s rough...” Cassandra sighs

You weren’t sure if Cassandra was continuing to mock you or she actually felt bad about your situation.

“Anyway though, I’m kind of happy that I’m out of there,” You add, “My siblings were a bunch of assholes anyway.”

“I could say the same for my sisters... We’re always trying to out-best each other to please mother... It’s getting tiring honestly.” She sighs

“Then don’t do it to please your mother,” You say, grabbing a sword off of the weapons rack, “Do it so it makes you happy.”

With your back turned to Cassandra, you begin putting your hair up to a ponytail.

“What’s that?” She asks

“What’s what?” You ask

“The thing on the back of your neck,” Cassandra helps, “What is it?”

My birthmark... Well, just a mark...

“The Mark of Ares,” You answer, “All the children of Ares have this specific mark.”

[A/n: Not much but I tried lol]

You nod, “Not the glamorous life as a god though.”

“So you really are half and half huh?” Cassandra continues asking

After grabbing a couple of armor plates, you arm yourself with a sword and a spear. You follow Cassandra back to the main hall where the other three women were waiting for the both of you. 

“All set?” The tall woman asks

“Yes mother,” Cassandra says

You simply nod as you follow them out to what looked like horse stables. However, you only see enough for the four of them.

Great... Will I have to be the one running on foot?

“Joan,” Daniela calls, horse already galloped in front of you

She simply holds out her hand for you to grab. You let out a smile as you take her hand. You were astonished by the amount of strength Daniela had when she pulled you up onto the back of her horse. 

“Strong,” You smile, resting your palms on her curved hipline

“You better hold on tight,” Daniela flirts

As soon as the stable doors opened fully, Daniela slams the reigns on her horse and the horse bolts past the other three. You let out a startled yelp as Daniela’s horse bursts out of the stables and out into the familiar warmth. You hold onto Daniela for dear life; your head against the back of her neck as you hear her giggling.

“The half immortal is scared of a horse ride?” Daniela teases you

“Caught me off guard is all,” You gently chuckle

Daniela continues to giggle as you ease your grip on her slightly. You look over your shoulder and see the other three horses following behind, slowly gaining to where you and Daniela were. You looked along the tree line to see the sunset beginning to dwindle down below the horizon.

“Why hunt at night?” You ask

“It’s too stuffy during the day,” Daniela explains to you, “It’s tolerable... For a certain amount of time.”

You stop at a river that was relatively near the castle for the horses to rest and hydrate as the four of you begin to tread through the woods to go hunting. 

“Why don’t the both of you go hunt on your own, go teach Daniela some hunting techniques would you?” Bela suggests

“Hey!” Daniela yelps, “I can hunt well on my own thank you very much.”

“I’d certainly could ask Artemis to give Daniela some hunting lessons but who the hell knows where she is,” You explain, “Come on Dani.”

Daniela takes you by the wrist and yanks you close to her as the both of you begin walking along the forest trees in hopes to get any kills before dawn arrives.

“Have you.. Actually hunted before?” Daniela asks

“After months of fending for my own,” You say, “Mostly spear-fishing... Spear is normally my main weapon but if I want to go more rough n tough, a sword.”

“Shouldn’t the half immortals be expertise in various weapons?” Daniela teases you

“A lot of Demigods would have their specified weapons,” You say, “Watch and learn baby.”

You roll up your pant legs and your sleeves. You strip off your shoes and slowly begin stepping into the ice-cold riverbank. further to your right was a giant waterfall. You could hear the loud running water go over the edge of the drop.

“If I only had Night vision,” You sigh 

“On your right,” Daniela calls out to you

You immediately spear to your right. Once you had lifted the spear, you had sworn the spear had gained more top end weight.

“How did you?...” You turn to Daniela

“I mostly go hunting at night,” Daniela smiles, “So my eyesight works best during the night.”

“That’s good to have,” You smile

You and Daniela continue spear-fishing as the night progresses through. 

“Have you caught a bear before?” Daniela asks

“No,” You say

“Why don’t we go and catch one?” Daniela suggests

“Well, how would you do it Daniela?” You ask her

“Why are you asking me?” Daniela asks

“Because one, you’re the one suggesting it and two, why don’t you lead a hunt for once,” You smile

Daniela looks at you as you emerge from the riverbank and begin making a makeshift basket to place all of the fish in. 

“You sure know how to craft,” Daniela just simply watches you make

“A lot of things were learned while living on my own out here,” You smile as you look up at her

You stop weaving the basket when Daniela is just kneeling in front of you. 

“You okay Daniela?” You ask her, clearing your throat

“I’m okay,” She answers, inching her way closer to you, “You?”

“I’m fine,” You answer, a bubble caught in your throat, “What-what are you doing right now?” 

“I... Like you..” Daniela says

“Daniela!” You yell

You coil an arm around her waist line as you try to get up but you tumble forward. You look up and see a bear letting out a roar. With your spear crushed under the bears’ foot, you draw your sword and begin swinging, in hopes of it being scared and runs off. However, you stop once it began growling. 

“Joan!” Daniela yells

You felt your body land onto the ground as the sword is knocked from your grip. You immediately prop yourself on your elbows and turn your head.

“Daniela!” You yell to her

Like Hell I’m about to lose her....

Your legs suddenly spring upward, pivoting as fast as they could. You break into a run as the bear begins to stand on its hind legs. You didn’t even think to take your weapon back into your hand as you use your body to slam yourself into the bear.

“Hey!” You call to Daniela

She looks at you.

“I... Like you too,” You smile

“Joan... Joan!!” Daniela screams

As quick as Daniela could, she scampers up to her feet and dives after you, only to come a hare too late. You and the bear had plummeted towards the sharp-rocked bottom of the waterfall.

“JOAN!!!!” Daniela banshee screams as she watches you both and the bear disappear into the misty waters below

“Daniela?!” Alcina calls out

Alcina, Cassandra and Bela emerge from the tree line, beelining it to her. Alcina pulls her youngest daughter into her arms as Daniela lets out wailing sobs.

“We were trying to hunt a bear and- and- I almost got killed but-” Daniela chokes on her sobs, “Joan went over the edge protecting me.. With- with the bear...” 

“I’m sorry my daughter,” Alcina sighs, “The hunt is over. Back to the castle. Now.”

“But-But Joan is still down there!” Daniela begs her mother

“No one survives that drop,” Alcina states, “Not even a half immortal like Joan. We have to go now.”

Daniela doesn’t argue with her mother. She follows her mother and sisters back to their horses to take back to the castle stables. 

I’m sorry Joan...

Night was slowly dissipating as Daniela lay across her bed, crying to herself. She didn’t care about how bad she smelled from the outside world. She was upset at herself for not catching you in time just before you plummeted to your death.

“Daniela?” Bela calls out

“What Bela?...” Daniela wipes away her tears 

“Someone’s in the main hall with Cassandra,” Bela says, less enthusiastic

Daniela dissipates into flies as well as Bela. Daniela follows her sister and as soon as Bela busts the doors open, Daniela felt her heart throb.

“Joan?...” Daniela calls out, materializing into her human form

“Finally,” Cassandra sighs as she pushes your batters and bloodied body towards Daniela

Daniela catches your almost limp body. But, you manage with all of your strength you had left, you wrap your arms around Daniela's neck as she struggles to keep you on your feet.

"I thought you were..." Daniela says

"Dead?" You finish her sentence

Daniela takes you to her bedchambers and begins stripping away whatever was left of the armor and your ripped clothing.

"Ow..." You groan

"Do you... Remember what happened after you plummeted down the waterfall?" Daniela asks

"Well, what I do remember is that the bear wasn't anywhere to be found by the time I had come to. I was bleeding a lot. But, obviously being a Demigod, my slow regeneration process began. But. Took me forever though. Everything still hurts like hell..." You sigh

You lowly gasp as you felt Daniela's long, cold fingers caress your body as she applies the bandages.

"I'm sorry," She whimpers

"It's okay. You're just really cold..." You sigh, smiling

You could feel Daniela's eyes on you as she moved directly behind you. You could feel the tension between the both of you.

"I meant what I said too," You say

You feel her fingers begin coiling around your ribcage and her head resting on your shoulder.

"I know," She whispers into your ear

You sweep your arm underneath Daniela and pull her into your lap.

"Joan!..." Daniela gasps

It doesn't take Daniela long to settle herself in your lap as her wicked smile sweeps across her face.

"Awwww you're blushing," Daniela coos

"Shut up..." You growl playfully

"Well then maybe you should make me," She smirks, her wicked giggle coming out

[A/n: Here is a character board for Joan Arc]

[mythicamagic]

“Call it a truce”

(For the prompt if you’d like)

They'd crossed paths eight times now inside the godforsaken maze. Naraku had placed them under some sort of spell- Kagome wasn’t totally sure if her friends were also somewhere inside. It had all happened way too quickly. One second she’d been fighting alongside her comrades- the next, waking up inside a bizarre hellscape.

Sadly the only person she’d seen thus far was Sesshoumaru of all demons. When they’d first bumped into each other- blue and gold had narrowed- both quickly turning in the opposite directions.

Gradually, however, time wore on. A continuous mist obscured every corner of the black maze, its towering walls strangled by twisting, thorny vines. Red skies hung overhead, a barrier likely preventing Sesshoumaru from flying upwards, otherwise he would've escaped by now.

Kagome had just one arrow and one weathered bow. No food, and no water. Just the clothes on her back and strung out nerves, wits starting to fray at the edges. Her footsteps sounded too loud in the empty space. The mist kept rolling, making her paranoid- imagining salivating demons and evil spirits haunting her steps.

Am I going to die in here?

Gritting blunt teeth, Kagome let out a frustrated noise- wrapping her hands around the nearest thorny vines and letting reiki burst free from her fingertips. Maybe she could just blast her way through the wall. Pink light glowed like a signal flare, shimmering and giving her a brief taste of renewed hope.

“It will not work.”

She frowned, registering Sesshoumaru’s acerbic tone. Just as he’d said, when her holy light died, the thorns remained.

Kagome glanced over her shoulder, finding him closer than expected. She shifted warily to maintain some distance. They’d refrained from talking so far during their encounters in the maze. This was unexpected. And worrying. If Sesshoumaru was out of options, things were dire.

“Flying is a no go, I’m guessing?"

He stiffly nodded in response, head tilting back to gaze hatefully at the high walls. Kagome shivered, wrapping both arms around herself. “Damn it. I have no idea what to do. I can sense Naraku’s youki but it's everywhere so there's no chance of pinpointing him. It’s soaked into the air like gasoline."

"I am also unable to locate the wretch."

Kagome blinked, glad he was reciprocating conversation.

"We're locked in a spell or under a curse, I’ve got no doubt about that. I just don’t know if these are our real bodies or not…”

Were they trapped somewhere mentally? Caged like birds?

Sesshoumaru levelled a look down to her hands, gesturing with a claw. “The cuts do not hurt?”

Kagome blinked, flexing her fingers. She hadn’t even realised they’d been pricked by the thorns. “N-no.”

“Then it appears he has either somehow trapped us within a space that has absorbed our conscious minds or put us in an area that dulls the senses. Perhaps a keeper box of some kind," Sesshoumaru said easily, as though he did this all the time.

Kagome’s heart pumped at a dizzying speed. Keeper box. She'd been in one of those before. The face of sage Tokajin came to mind. “Crap,” she whispered.

"Unpleasant memories, miko?" a lofty, entertained tone brushed her hearing.

Kagome sneered half-heartedly, "it's nothing."

Sesshoumaru's eyes glowed, smiling. As if he could see right through her. "Hn."

“We gotta get out of here," she said dismissively. "Since this is Naraku we’re dealing with- I doubt just finding the centre of this maze will let us get outta here and break the curse, and knowing him there’s no exit.”

“Hn, and yet I can think of nothing else after trying everything."

Kagome gave him a sweeping glance over, swallowing. She hadn’t seen him since he’d nearly killed Kohaku- still thankful he’d released the mind controlled boy.

They were still technically enemies despite a shared goal of killing Naraku.

Steeling herself, Kagome took a breath. She then boldly stuck a hand out towards him. “Let’s work together. We haven’t got much choice. Call it a truce.”

Silence.

Kagome chanced a look at his face.

Sesshoumaru merely stared at the offered hand unblinkingly. Kagome giggled weakly. “A-ah, you shake it. It’s an ‘across the seas’ type of gesture to show we’re sealing a deal.”

Interest livened his animalistic gaze. He briefly seemed considering, perhaps wondering about her origins. Long fingers unfurled from his palm, clasping her hand strongly. The shock of skin to skin contact and sharp claws nearly jerked Kagome enough to rip her hand free. She forced herself to stay still, feeling a surge of something shoot down to her toes.

He was warmer than expected. It surprised her that callouses roughened his palm, likely from years of swordplay. She'd always figured he was too inhumanly perfect to have such a thing. Sesshoumaru blinked slowly, remaining locked in a stare. For a moment, Kagome dumbly admired his pretty white lashes.

She caught herself staring and briskly shook his hand, prying her fingers free before gesturing to several pathways, cheeks red. “S-so which way?”

Mokomoko’s soft fur caressed the bare flesh of her lower thigh in passing as Sesshoumaru stepped towards one. “I have yet to take this path. Stay close, troublesome miko," he threw over one shoulder. "I will not slow down for you.”

“Please don’t. You walk slow enough as it is,” Kagome griped, following.

---

Demons began littering the narrow, claustrophobic spaces within the maze. Kagome had to duck and weave around Sesshoumaru as he killed them with acid or fierce swipes of his claws. It forced them to get up close and personal, occasionally plastering miko and Daiyoukai together.

His scent wafted into her unwilling nose more than once- masculine and sharp, reminding her of thunderstorms. Since she couldn’t use her reiki with much finesse yet and the close quarters put her archery skills at a disadvantage, Kagome tried her best to be helpful.

“Behind you!” she’d yell, ducking under his arm before grasping his sleeve. “On your right!”

Sesshoumaru dispatched enemies without argument or complaint, calmly moving on once they lay dead.

As time dragged on, Kagome’s legs began to ache from the endless walking. Her stomach grumbled near constantly. Her limbs and body were becoming weak.

She didn’t breathe a word about it- though noticed Sesshoumaru’s lingering attention. Turning a corner, she stumbled, an arm catching her around the waist, steadying.

Kagome’s belly fluttered, and she quickly straightened. “Thanks.”

“Hn.”

They book occasional breaks, but respite was near impossible with the continued droves of enemies. After what she could only guess to be at least 17 hours- though it felt like days, they finally arrived at the centre of the maze. Exhausted, Kagome kept a hand buried within mokomoko to keep her upright, leaning against the stability he offered. They’d shed a lot of restraint about touch around hour 9 of their journey.

As first suspected however, there was nothing in the middle of the maze. Just a plain space with a single fountain. They hadn’t come across a single exit either.

Kagome’s knees quivered a little, “d-do you have a plan B?” she rasped, throat dry. What she wouldn’t give for some water.

Sesshoumaru stared grimly ahead, slowly lowering his calm attention to her. If she could hazard a guess, he was likely thinking he could survive. He’d weather the storm of hunger and dehydration much longer than she.

“I suspect the reason Naraku lingers is because he predicted I would kill you,” his velvety voice was completely at odds with his words.

Kagome stiffened, leaning slightly away from the warmth of luxurious furs. “...That would make sense,” the admission slipped out, “he’s a sadistic prick. He’s probably watching us right now, getting his kicks from seeing us struggle.”

Sesshoumaru turned to her, lifting a clawed hand. The sharp points gleamed. They could tear through her supple flesh and bones with ease. Kagome had witnessed it enough times to know.

Rendered completely exhausted though, she had little room left for fear. She stared at him blandly, falling quiet.

He arched a brow, resting those deadly claws against her flushed skin, gradually unfurling to hold her neck. “You will not resist?”

“I’ve never taken you to be the kinda guy who would take the easy way out,” Kagome muttered, raising her chin. “Am I wrong?”

Was it her imagination or did his pupils dilate a touch?

She shivered, feeling the pads of his fingers drag against the nape of her delicate neck, thumb resting at her throat.

“No,” he rumbled softly, gripping tighter and drawing her in closer. “But since we have an audience, miko,” his voice lowered, “let us give him a show.”

Blue eyes widened- seconds before lips crashed to hers. Kagome gasped- and a sinuous tongue took advantage, shoving inside to plunder her mouth. Sensation slammed into her gut. Suddenly she was immediately aware of everything. The warmth of his palm, the dry rub of his callouses along her neck. The goosebumps rising on her flesh. How his tongue skilfully played, twined and slid against her own- and she found herself responding.

His lips were hot and quick across her own, firm and yielding and then parting to meet her tongue with his anew. Kagome’s breath shuddered. Her entire body thrummed. She found herself touching the fine, soft locks of silver hair behind his ear, strands running through her fingers like water. Their mouths broke apart, and Kagome could only give a breathy gasp as he sucked along the bent arch of her throat.

“Behind me, to the left,” he whispered, kissing her flesh bruisingly hard.

“I know,” she panted.

It happened quickly. They moved in sync- Kagome reaching for her bow and nocking her single arrow while Sesshoumaru turned, angling her to fire at the faint ripple in the sky they’d both sensed the second they’d kissed.

While the blazing firework of pure holy energy streaked into the air, the Daiyoukai followed its progress, flying with Kagome in tow. She held on around his shoulders, praying with all her might it would break through.

Her arrow pierced the demonic barrier- shattering the weak spot immediately. Sesshoumaru broke through, leaving the world of red skies and unsolvable mazes behind.

---

Kagome sucked in a gasping, strangled breath, shooting upright.

“Kagome! She’s awake, guys!”

Putting a hand to her head, she looked to her side- only to be greeted with the sight of Sesshoumaru sitting up from the ground, both of them having been sprawled out. Around them, battle raged. Inuyasha was fighting diligently, swiping madly at continuous rounds of regenerating tentacles.

Miroku and Sango seemed to be on guard duty, having been defending their unconscious bodies. Shippo immediately buried his face in Kagome’s arm, holding onto her. “You’ve been asleep for a good hour after you were both hit by that attack! Naraku kept trying to kill you! Ah- I’m so glad you’re safe!”

Kagome comforted him with a few gentle pats upon his head, murmuring softly. The shifting of weight caught her attention, and she watched as Sesshoumaru stood. He sneered softly to himself, “I do not know why you saw fit to protect this one, but I did not need your aid, humans.”

“I told ya!” Inuyasha shouted from somewhere in the distance.

“We couldn’t let you be absorbed by Naraku or he’d be even more formidable,” Sango griped.

“What my friends mean to say is- you’re welcome, Lord Sesshoumaru,” Miroku amiably smoothed over the situation.

Sesshoumaru grunted, securing his swords in place. Then, slowly, his eyes lowered.

Kagome exhaled a shuddering breath. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, cheeks burning with all the voracity of a fever, chest light and heavy all at once. Sesshoumaru’s gaze fell to the subtle parting of her mouth, before looking her in the eye for just one more lingering moment. He then moved out from behind the protection Sango and Miroku offered, racing headfirst into battle.

He just did it to break the spell, that’s all.

He’d kissed her to help flush out a weak spot from their enemy, which had opened from Naraku's shock- having lost brief control of the spell. Thinking about it as anything more than that would be foolish.

Shaking herself, Kagome followed suit. She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow, pushing down all confused thoughts and sensations that Sesshoumaru’s wicked mouth had elicited- entering the fray alongside her friends.

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Human (Natasha Romanoff)

Human: Chapter 1

A/N: Troyes, France is 6 hours ahead of NYC so 7pm there is 1pm in NYC. For the sake of this fic we’re going to pretend that the Battle of New York lasted quite a few hours.

*This is my first ever fic and I wrote it at 3am so bear with me

WARNINGS: swearing; mentions of weapons; violence; panic attack; anxiety; my crappy writing; and I think that’s it (lmk if there’s anything I should add)

Barcelona, Spain; January, 2012:

The repetitive ticking of the clock registered in my brain before my eyes even opened. I didn’t need that clock to know what time it was, of course. It was 4:30 am— the same time I've woken up everyday for the past twenty-five years of my life. I no longer need to wake up this early, yet it’s a habit so deeply engrained in my framework that it’s seemingly unbreakable. I roll out of bed and make my way into the dingy kitchen with light footsteps. With some quick math I figured that I got barely two hours of sleep last night, but that’s more than usual. I started the coffee machine and asked with a sigh, “Would you like some coffee or are you just going to lurk in the corner?”

The leather-clad stranger with an eyepatch stepped up to the kitchen island opposite of me and responded, “I wouldn’t mind a cup. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you knew I was here.”

“Well, you know what they say about old habits. You got a name?”

“You can call me Fury. We have a lot to talk about, Eight.” I slid him a mug of cheap coffee and gestured for him to take a seat. 

“Then we’d better get started so you can get the hell out of my apartment.” He simply chuckled in response and I could already feel my patience wavering.

Two Hours Later:

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division? Really, dude?”

“Yeah, it’s a mouthful. Trust me I know.”

“I’m sorry that you came all this way for nothing, Fury, but there’s no way in hell I'm working for some government spy circus.”

“It’s technically an extra-governmental spy agency-“

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not joining,” I said, cutting him off.

“So, you’re just gonna hop from one shitty apartment to the next until you die? That doesn’t seem like a great life.”

“Better than the one I lived before.”

“You aren’t the person to live in hiding. You’re the person who thrives in the action and lives to kick ass, and we both know it.” When I didn’t respond he continued, “I’ll leave you my card. When you change your mind, which you will, you’ll know where to find me. You don’t have to be the bad guy anymore, Eight.” With that he slid off the stool and left my apartment, leaving me with nothing but my rapidly spiraling thoughts and a black business card.

Troyes, France; May, 2012:

It had been four months since Director Fury came to my apartment in Barcelona. We’d kept in contact and he hasn’t given up on me joining S.H.I.E.L.D.. I'm living in my third apartment since then. Wow…those landlords must really hate me. I was watching the seven o’clock news when I saw something that made me choke on my Cheerios. “An alien invasion?! What the fu-” My Cheerio-muffled exclamation was interrupted by the ring of my burner phone. “Hello?”

“Eight, you watched the news recently?”

“Uh yeah, I'm watching it now. You fighting aliens now, Nicky?”

“Okay first of all, I told you to stop calling me that. Second, yes… aliens. I’m forming a team of…extraordinary people to help protect against these threats and they could really use a hand to finish off this fight.”

“I may be weird as hell but I ain't ‘extraordinary’, Fury. I don’t wanna join your band of misfits.”

“Alright, how about a compromise? You fly your fancy jet here right now and help them out and if you still don’t wanna join once the battle is over, you can go right back to France and I’ll stop bothering you about joining.” After a few seconds of silence I agreed. 

“Fine, but I’m not gonna change my mind. Wait, how do you know about my jet?”

He gave a hearty laugh and said “I know everything, Eight. You should know that by now.”

New York, New York; 96 Minutes Later: 

I flew my jet into the city, making sure to take out a few flying Chitauri in the process. We don’t need to talk about how I got my hands on a German jet that can fly 2100mph. I saw a few interesting characters standing in a circle fighting off an endless sea of aliens. I maneuvered the jet and— wait…is that guy wearing blue tights? Is this what Fury meant by extraordinary? Whatever. I landed in the street about 20 yards away and killed the engines. I hopped out and started jogging towards the group. A couple of them turned around, probably wondering who the hell the chick in the black uniform is and— whoa that’s a beautiful woman. After realizing my steps had literally faltered in a mini gay panic, I slowed to a walk and said “Y’all need a hand?”

“Depends on whose hand it is,” replied the redheaded source of my panic.

“I’m a friend of Fury’s. He practically begged me to come save your asses.”

“Fury doesn’t beg,” she said in a doubtful tone.

“Not typically, but I'm just that awesome. If you don’t believe me then call him up but I’m gonna go kill some aliens.” With that I took off down another street where there was a group of the repulsive bastards. After unloading all of my magazines into Chitauri bodies, I switched to my swords and daggers. After another hour or so of fighting, there were no more aliens in sight. I started jogging toward the rich dude’s tower when I saw said rich dude falling through the rapidly-closing portal. I stopped next to Mr. Blue Tights and the buff blonde guy with the hammer when the big green dude grabbed Mr. Rich Dude from the sky and landed next to us. The green guy yelled, waking Mr. Rich Dude up with a start. “What the hell? What happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Except for her, she’s pretty hot,” he said nodding toward me. Just then the redhead jogged over to us and eyed my blood-soaked form from head to toe. 

“See something you like, Red?”

“No. I’m pretty sure I'd be classified as a sadist if I liked the sight of that much blood,” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Yeah that’s fair.” She shook her head at me with a small smirk. There was barely a second of silence when Mr. Rich Dude spoke up. 

“Anybody want shawarma?”

Three Hours Later:

I had gone to the Triskelion after the band of misfits apprehended Loki. Agent Hill showed me where to park my jet and directed me to a room so I could shower and stay the night if I wanted to. I had put on black jeans, a white tee, and a black jean jacket, all of which had been in a to-go bag in my jet. I was toweling off my hair when someone knocked on the door. I opened the door to see none other than the one-eyed-wonder standing there. “What can I do for you, Nicky?”

“The Avengers are being debriefed in Conference Room 6B in ten minutes. You should come.”

“The Avengers? Is that what you’re calling them? That’s cute. But I'm not an Avenger and I don’t want to be an Avenger, so no thanks.”

“You should come anyway.”

“I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”

“You know me so well, Eight,” he said with an amused grin.

I walked into the conference room and the Avengers were already there. Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Natasha Romanoff—whose names I learned from Hill— were scattered around a large table, along with Fury. Romanoff eyed me from where she was standing and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. I squinted my eyes and wiggled my eyebrows in response, and I could see her stifle a laugh. “What’s your name?” She accompanied the question with a blank expression, which made me feel oh-so-special. 

“That’s a very personal question, Miss Romanoff. Let’s slow the pace, please.”

“You know my name but I can’t know yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“The world isn’t fair, Miss Romanoff, and I love a good mystery.”

“If you two are done flirting, we have business to attend to,” interjected Fury.

“Right, my apologies, Nicky.”

“Don’t call me that, Eight.”

After an excruciating 43 minutes and 27 seconds, Fury finally let us leave. I was so close to freedom when that unbelievably sexy voice called to me. “Eight!” Romanoff hastily walked towards me in an effort to catch up.

“Yeah?”

“Is your name actually Eight?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Why are you so damn stubborn?”

“It amuses me, Red.” There was a brief silence during which both of us were trying to figure out if the conversation was over. 

I was about to leave when she continued, “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”

“Well, no. I’m going to stay the night, steal some really expensive jet fuel, and then leave in the morning before Fury can get up my ass about joining his little team.”

She rolled her eyes and responded, “Why won’t you join the Avengers? And why won’t you tell me your real name?”

“It’s just not my style. I’d rather fly solo.”

“You ignored my second question.”

“Then maybe you should take the hint and stop asking.” With that I turned around and started walking away, but a hand on my arm stopped me dead in my tracks. Alarms started going off in my head, and I'm pretty sure Romanoff was saying something to me but I was too caught up in the memories of beatings, punishments, and psychological conditioning to register it. After a few of the longest seconds of my life, the white of my vision cleared up and the voice telling me ‘physical contact is strictly forbidden’ faded into the background. My heart was still hammering in my chest and I was trying to keep my breathing steady despite the inevitable panic attack trying to drag me under, I regained my neutral expression and said. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you okay?” She had a concerned expression and if I wasn’t so blinded with anxiety, I would’ve appreciated how cute the furrow of her eyebrows was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna turn in. It’s been a long day.” I turned around and walked back to my temporary room at a brutal pace. As soon as the door closed behind me, hot tears raced down my cheeks and I lost the ability to breathe. It was gonna be a long night.

3:21 am:

I finally managed to calm myself down and stop the panic attack after almost four hours. Well, I passed out because I couldn’t breathe but it did calm me down. Trying to sleep would be pointless, so I decided to leave before anyone woke up. I didn’t really have much to pack so I grabbed my duffel bag and left the room. I made it to the corridor attached to the landing pads and ran into the one person I really didn’t want to see. “What are you doing out and about, Red?”

“I’ve got places to be and things to do. Were you just going to sneak out in the middle of the night like a teenager with a rebellious streak?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, actually. Do you need a ride? Where are you going?”

“Madrid. Fury said I could hitch a ride on another plane that’s headed for Germany.”

“Well I’m going to France if you wanna ride with me. My jet will get you there a lot faster.” She studied me for what felt like way too long, probably debating if I would try to kill her or not. You know how spies are with their trust issues.

“What the hell, why not?”

And that is how I ended up in a jet with “Candy Shop” playing over the speakers and Natasha Romanoff in the copilot seat yelling at me to, and I quote, ‘slow the fuck down.’ “Why would I slow down, you psycho?! That’s the whole damn point of this thing!”

“Where did you even get a German jet this fast?”

“Germany.”

“No shit Sherlock. How did you get it?”

“I went to Germany, stopped in at the local speedy-jet dealership, and walked out with this beauty.”

“Sarcasm is a defense mechanism, you know? You’re only being like this to keep me from seeing the real you. You built walls. You want everyone to think you’re fine when in reality, you’re falling apart.”

“Okay…um…there was no need for that, Dr. Romanoff. I can find my own therapist, thank you very much. And don’t go pretending you’re all healthy in the head, Miss Assassin.” It was quiet for all of five seconds before we both burst into laughter.

Madrid, Spain:

I landed the jet at the local S.H.I.E.L.D. base and killed the engines. Romanoff and I removed our headsets and I stood to help her get her bags. “Welp, I’ll see you around I guess.” I really wasn’t good at this type of thing. Or any social interactions, really. Twenty-four years in a cell will do that to you.

“Will I? See you around, I mean?”

“Um, I don’t really know, honestly. I’m not part of S.H.I.E.L.D. so we won’t just run into each other or anything but…”

“Why won’t you join S.H.I.E.L.D.? I mean what else are you doing?”

“Ohhh, I see. You just love me so much that you don’t want me to leave. You’re gonna miss me so much-” I was cut off when she threw her backpack at my head. “Hey! You’re lucky I caught that! Freaking crazy woman.”

When our laughter died down she said, “Well I should probably go. Thank you for the ride.”

“Of course. Hitchhikers are always welcome aboard my beloved jet.” A small smile appeared on her face and she stepped forward to give me a hug but she must’ve seen my body go rigid because she stepped back. She might’ve said something but the voice in my head was too loud for me to understand her. I don’t know how long it was before I unfroze but when I did, she was gone. I walked to the front of the jet and started the journey to France.

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.1]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 2k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla," sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia's hands.

____________

Loosely connected chapters about you and Childe finding happiness. Maybe.

Notes: Part 2

Masterlist

***

childe? what a problematic asshole i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of childe spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

Chapter 1

     A cold gust of icy wind drives you deeper into the sheets and you swear by the name of Her Majesty Herself once you get up and find Alexei, you’ll smother him with a towel for leaving a window open in the middle of the night.

    Somewhere outside, a rooster crows. Fine, not dead of the night then, but no one cares for technicalities like these when sleep is involved. Especially after a night like this one, when Alexei fucked you into oblivion and back, you need every minute of shuteye you can get before another day of exhausting missions in the Chechnaya Taiga of Snezhnaya claims your last strand of sanity.

    It’s peaceful mornings like these that make it all worthwhile though—the quiet during the early golden hour when people slowly wake up to a brand-new day and get ready to do their chores, their factory work. The sheer number of possibilities stretching out before their hands, and hope rekindled every morning despite the harsh cold waiting at their doorsteps. You love how everything stands still, how even the uncaring universe seems to grant people a sliver of peace, allows them to be soft and vulnerable. To be kind to themselves by indulging in a freshly brewed cup of coffee or tea. Nothing can spoil this for you, nothing and no one—

    An awkward cough sounds from the door. You close your eyes, willing him to disappear by simply ignoring him, but his eyes burn into the back of your head like two smouldering coals and eventually, you turn around to see Alexei standing in the door frame, shifting from left to right. “There’s someone out there who wants to talk to you,” he says.

    Turning around, you try to disappear into your pillow. “Whoever it is, I’m sure they can wait until it isn’t such a damn unholy time.”

    Alexei clears his throat. “It’s uhm … it’s someone from the Fatui.”

    Your eyes snap open. Suddenly the warm, cosy blankets feel like a snake’s tight hold around your body, and you struggle out of its grip, grabbing for the dressing gown you carelessly threw around the back of your chair last night.

    The sun hangs low in the east, painting the city of Kerch that stretches outside of your window a sheen of dusky gold. When the red-brown bricks of the dacha cottages come into view, you think of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child every year in celebration of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of the Zapolyarny Palace.

    Cold already seeps into your bones even though the robe is tight around your body. You hiss when your bare feet hit the icy floor but can’t find your slippers. Time to die like a woman.

    You brush past Alexei, who’s scratching his head, still just in his underwear and you think him crazy for walking around half-naked like that even though it’s minus 58F outside and the heating systems inside your barracks only start to work once outside temperatures drop to minus 75F.

    Maybe what they say is true. People from around Noyabrsk in the north of Snezhnaya regularly dip into frosty rivers and you do remember him mentioning ice swimming is his hobby. It was one of the few things you thought attractive about him. Actually, it was the only thing you thought attractive about him.

    Light streams into the floor from the kitchen, flickering once, twice in dangerous foreboding. It’s time to switch the lightbulb. Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure, because that isn’t important right now. What’s important is Tartaglia sitting at your table, leaning back in a chair, both feet crossed on top of the table, and eating your leftover mayonnaise sandwich you saved up for breakfast.

    His eyes slide lazily toward you, taking in your form—barefoot, shivering even though the fur from your bathrobe is of the finest white wolf fur obtainable on the market.

    Tartaglia finishes your sandwich, smacks his lips and licks mayo off his fingers. He doesn’t even like it, and you know from time to time he can’t handle dairy all that well. He just eats it because he knows how it infuriates you.

    “Alexei, huh,” he says in lieu of hello. “Didn’t know you’re into himbos.”

    Behind you, Alexei makes a sound like a kicked puppy. You glare at him over your shoulder, then jut your chin towards the front door. “Out. Now.”

    He doesn’t wait for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly fast for a guy this big, he bolts into your room, gets dressed in record speed and leaves your little one-bedroom apartment without so much as a Goodbye or “We’ll hear from each other,” and you prefer it that way. It saves stuff from getting messy.

    Speaking of messy, you really wish Tartaglia would have sent you a note before coming. The smell of icy wind and snowy forests clings to his clothes. He must have come straight from a mission, not unusual in the slightest, yet in most cases he sends a message your way just to make sure he doesn’t run into one of your one-night stands and it doesn’t get ugly.

    Like right now.

    “I thought you had a little more class than that,” he says nonchalantly. His feet keep wobbling from left to right until you make your way over and push them off your table. Not that you actually sit there to take your meals, no. But this is your home, you have to assert dominance.

    “Well, I’m not picky,” you say, taking the empty chair opposite from him. “The nights of Fyrva’snezh are really fucking cold.”

    “I’m sure Fire-Water will do the same trick.” He’s sulking, yet he has no right to it and knowing Tartaglia, that’s why he sulks even more.

    Your relationship can be summarised with one word: complicated. Which is funny, because besides martial arts classes (taught by a teacher that is a real ball of sunshine who could easily snap your spine like a twig) and infiltration tactics courses (led by a grumpy teacher who once woke you all up in the middle of the night to do a spontaneous quiz about infiltration steps and everyone who failed or fell asleep had to run a marathon through the forest in their underwear) you had to take at the Fatui military school of Zapolyarny, they also teach mathematics and molecular physics, and that shit was complicated.

    Growing up in a small seaside village—bless little Morepesok; how much you miss babushka Katya’s refreshing botvinia soup—with only a handful kids your age, gravitating towards Tartaglia was the natural development. He loves ice-fishing, you love eating fish. You gag just smelling solyanka, he wolfs it down like it might be his last meal on earth. Opposites attract each other, as they say, and how true it is for you two—you, the morning person and he, the night owl; his will of iron and your nerves of steel. Your bow, his sword, even though Tartaglia is a masochist who likes to make it hard for himself by trying to switch weapons solely because you’re better at it than him and he is a sore loser.

    His worship of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, your fear of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

    “I don’t think you came all the way here just to call me a slut,” you say. He is in no position to do so anyway, because Camilla from the ptychy’moloko shop down the road that leads to the Sarov church didn’t shut up about blowing him for weeks until you sent her a liver of a pig and claimed that was the leftovers from the last girl that thought she could put a leash on the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Camilla quickly moved on to an inconspicuous merchant who sells matryoshka dolls for a living and all is well that ends well.

    “What do you want?”

    Tartaglia starts tapping a gloved finger against the wooden table, a nervous tick you don’t know he’s aware of.

    “I’m leaving for Liyue first thing tomorrow.” His tone is low when he speaks, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a sense of urgency.

    “Okay.” It isn’t the first time he’s leaving Snezhnaya by order of the Tsaritsa, but every time he does, something inside you leaves with him. “So, you want me to keep an eye out for Teucer and the others?”

    “He’s really unhappy I’m leaving again already.” Tartaglia doesn’t mention the reason he was sent away just a couple of months ago to Inazuma was because he accidentally blew up an artillery factory belonging to a nobleman that secretly shipped orders to Fontain. The fallout from that was easier to handle with him not being anywhere nearby. Tartaglia is like a pair of hot tongues; no one is sure where to put him or how soon he would cool off, but if they just drop him, he might light the world on fire. Kid gloves are put on and a careful perimeter marked out.

    “And what excuse did you make up this time?” You knock your foot into his leg, lingering on his calf just a second too long before withdrawing again. “Another business trip to promote your toys? You can’t hold up this charade forever, you know.”

    “Why, your eyes feast on Snezhnaya’s greatest expatriate toy seller, now extending to the Liyue Branch of our Institute for Toy Research.” Tartaglia’s eyes have taken on a playful glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “You wouldn’t be so cold to break a little boy’s heart. That’s not you.”

    You want to remind him that you have no problem to put an arrow between a man’s eyes, or rip out his fingernails, one by one, to get the information that you want.

    “You owe me, toy man.”

    “Put it on my tab.”

    Tartaglia looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but as always, he decides to swallow those words even though they must hurt like swallowing needles. You know that feeling, and so you help him sort out his tightly entangled yarn of emotions by figuratively pushing him off the cliff.

    “Don’t forget to bring condoms. I hear the women of Liyue are beautiful.”

    Tartaglia goes a sickly grey colour, like the ashes of a dead fire, but he’s been the leading role of this play too long to fall out of character now. He gets up and stretches like a cat getting comfortable in a spot of sunlight. His jacket rides up, showing a stripe of skin, and you quickly turn your head away before giving into leaning over the table and mark him with your teeth.

    Patting his left pants’ pocket, Tartaglia says, “I’m always prepared.” He carries a grin that is dry, humourless, and for a brief moment, you two lock eyes, trading a look that feels like a dare. You allow yourselves to imagine how he picks you up and carries you to your bed where you two would proceed to fuck without abandon through the whole day and the following night, leaving the bed only to get food until Tartaglia leaves for Liyue and you’d send each other love letters until his return. What an idea. What an utterly stupid, naive, wonderful idea.

    “Well, lucky ladies,” you say, not bothering to hide the jealousy in your voice because jealousy is easier to handle than regret.

    “Lucky indeed,” he agrees and dons his easy-going smile, one that he’s perfected after hours upon hours in front of the mirror until it accomplished what he wanted: to mock people, infuriate them.

    On his way out, he stops to ruffle your hair in an affectionate way, one typical for childhood friends, but the distance between you is like the ocean separating Snezhnaya from Liyue.

    It was on the very first day of your conscription into the military organisation, Number Six of the Ten Laws that the Fatui abide by: Any physical or romantic relationship between Fatui agents is prohibited. As thou would not exchange flesh with thy brother or sister, so thou shalt not with your comrade, for he or she is thy brother or sister in arms.

    And everyone knows Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s word is law, and though the law is hard, it is the law.

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

[kinglazrus]

Not Your Danny – Ch 1. Moving Day

Phic Phight | Next | FFN | AO3

Submitted by @ecto-american: After Danny’s untimely death, his family and friends turn to Dani for comfort. She was so much like him in every single way. And she never felt more like a clone. A replacement for the “real” thing.

Summary: Maddie and Jack learn a lot of things about their son after his death: his powers, his secret life as the local hero, the truth behind his accident three years ago. And his clone who is so much like their boy. When Dani gets the offer to join their home, she thinks it's too good to be true. And she just might be right.

Word count: 2761

Two weeks after Danny dies, Danielle moves into his bedroom. It's a lacklustre affair. Dani has no belongings to bring with her, except the few trinkets stuffed in the pockets of her shorts. She only owns one pair of clothes, two of you want to be technically and count her ghost form. But that's tenuous at best when you consider the circumstances of her creation, and that her clothes were created withher, not given to her. She doesn't like to think about that too much, though.

Neither of Danny's parents are home for the occasion. Dani doesn't blame them. Her face time with Maddie and Jack Fenton over the past three years equals an hour at most—hour and a half if she really pushes it. And most of that time was with an ectogun between them. If she counts the times where she hasn't been staring down a glowing green barrel, then it's probably only five minutes, maybe less. And that only happened a few days ago.

Suffice to say, Dani and the Fentons don't have a good relationship, or a relationship of any kind. So she doesn't blame them for being out of the house when their dead son's clone, who they only recently found out about, takes over his bedroom. Although take over might be too strong of a phrase.

Dani floats next to Jazz, hovering in front of Danny's open bedroom door.

"Is it... okay?" Jazz asks.

Dani drifts inside, turning her head from side to side as she looks around. She likes the blue walls, and the open brick on the outer wall is kind of cool. The bed, covered in a purple bead spread, topped with a fluffy pillow, looks softer than anything she's ever slept on. The room is nice, if a bit messy with Danny's stuff still inside. Posters decorate the wall, some about space, others from some band called Dumpty Humpy. The shelves are stuffed full of books and model spaceships. His dirty clothes lie next to an open hamper in the corner of the room.

The sight surprises Dani more than anything.

"What are you gonna do with his stuff?" she asks. "Do people usually just," she gestures toward the room, "leave it like this?"

"What? No." Jazz shakes her head and quickly wipe her hand across her eyes. "When someone dies, their family or friends eventually pack their stuff away. Not always right away, though."

"Two weeks isn't long enough?"

Jazz's breath hitches. "Don't– don't say that. It's inconsiderate."

Dani's cheeks go hot at Jazz's admonishing tone. "Oh. Sorry." She floats further into the room, if only to escape the awkward air settling between them.

If Dani didn't know any better, she would guess that Danny had just stepped outside for a second and would be back any moment. Lowering herself to the floor, Dani settles on the carpet and walks toward the desk. A controller of some kind sits on the desk chair, its cord tangled with a headset. Dani picks the controller up and turns it over in her hand. She only vaguely recognizes the X logo in the middle of it; her travels over the past couple of years haven't exactly involved a lot of gaming. Or any.

There was a small handheld system she picked up at a garage sale once. She carried it for a few months but lost it somewhere along the way.

Dani tosses the controller onto the chair and turns back to Jazz. "So, now what?"

"Well, if you're not comfortable with Danny's things still being in here, we can get some boxes and start packing. I think we have some in the basement. If you want." Jazz tacks on the last three words with a soft voice.

"No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, course." It's just stuff, after all. Dani doesn't quite get it, which also means she doesn't care. If the Fentons don't want to move Danny's stuff yet, then it can stay. He was their son before he was Dani's cousin/DNA source.

"Okay. I guess I'll just... let you get settled, then. I have to work on some plans for the memorial, but Mom and Dad should be home in a couple hours. They said they wouldn't be gone long," Jazz says.

Dani nods. A few seconds of silence pass, and once it's obvious that neither of them is going to say anything more, Jazz turns and walks down the hall. Finally alone, Dani lets her ghost form fall away. The transformation rings prickle as their bright light ghosts over her skin, and when it fades, she's left in her typical shorts and hoodie. Dani rubs her arms until the prickling fades, then flops onto the bed.

Damn. It really is the softest thing she's ever lain on. And the blankets are warm. They smell like Danny, too. That's something Dani never thought she would think. She didn't even realize Danny had a smell, but it's hard to ignore now. It's not the most tangible smell. The best word Dani can find to describe it is crisp, like a cold day. She would bet her beanie that it was because of his ice powers, an ability they had never shared.

Dani shakes her head. Everything is weird enough right now. The last thing she needs to be contemplating is how Danny used to smell. It's also, like, a super creepy line of thought, yeah? Yeah.

As she stares up at the ceiling, a blur of movement catches her eye. Her gaze jumps toward it, in the corner of the bedroom closest to the door. A small brown lump clings to the ceiling. A bug, no doubt. Dani can't tell what kind, and she doesn’t care enough to find out. It's not too surprising, considering how messy Danny's room is. There's probably some old pizza hiding under his bed or something.

Dani rolls onto her side and closes her eyes. A little bug doesn't bother her, not after the places she's slept. And if the Fentons won't be home for a while, and Jazz is busy, she might as well take advantage of her new bed and the next few hours to get some shuteye. God knows she needs it.

—

Maddie feels sorry for Vlad's receptionist. She bears a striking resemblance to Maddie herself, with short auburn hair just a touch redder than Maddie's own, a curvy frame, and a sharp, pointed chin. She's even wearing blue, bless her heart. The girl is pretty, and young, and kind. Can't be too far out of high school, and hoping a job at the mayor's office will look good on her resume. Maddie hopes it pays off. The girl deserves it for putting up with Vlad daily. Working for him seems to be taking a toll on her, judging by the distressed look in her eyes when she looks up from Vlad's appointment book.

"I'm sorry, there's no appointment for you. I don't know if I can let you in," she says.

Maddie sighs. "Mr. Masters left me a message"—or several—"asking me to come in."

"I'm really sorry, but he didn't mention expecting you... oh no." The receptionist's eyes widen and she starts digging through papers on her desk. "Did I forget to write it down again? He got so upset last time."

Maddie reaches out and touches her shoulder, stopping the frantic search. "It's all right, dear. It's not your fault."

She suspected, when Vlad left numerous messages on her cellphone rather than calling the house, that something more was up. How Vlad even got her cellphone number she doesn't want to know. She will also be changing it very soon thanks to this incident.

"He's particular about his meetings," the receptionist says. "I really can't let you in."

"Just let him know I'm here, and I'll take care of the rest."

The receptionist nods. While she goes for the phone, Maddie steps away from the desk and turns back to the waiting area. It's empty besides her and the receptionist—not surprising this early on a Monday, and all the better for Maddie. She pulls her cellphone from her purse and checks the time; It's just after eight. Dani is due at Fenton Works soon, but Maddie and Jack won't be back until noon, at least. The reminder makes her wince.

Missing half of Dani's first day at home isn't ideal, but Maddie wants to get this meeting over with as fast as possible. They had other plans in the city, anyway, made before they invited Dani into their home. Better to get everything done at once.

Maddie eyes plush waiting room armchairs, wondering if there's any point in sitting down, when the receptionist calls out, "Mrs. Fenton?"

Maddie opens her mouth to answer, but her phone—still in her hand—buzzes at that moment. Jack's name stretches across the screen. "Excuse me." She steps toward the elevators on the far side of the room and turns her back to the receptionist, the closest semblance of privacy she can get, before answering her phone. "Hey, Jack. Is your meeting done already?"

"Not even close! How goes the shopping?"

"Fine so far. I forgot we didn't ask...." She tenses, feeling the receptionist's stare at her back. "We didn't ask what she might need, so I'm just grabbing the basics. Do you want me to pick something up for you? Are you waiting on the park board?"

"About that... I'm with them now, and—what day did we settle on for the memorial, again?"

Maddie shakes her head, but not out of annoyance. Jack forgetting the day hardly surprises her. He tends to forget the little details. If anything, it makes her feel grounded. The past two weeks have been a lot, to put it lightly. A lot of changes. A lot of revelations. But she can always rely on Jack to be his usual self.

"A month from today," she says.

"Thanks, baby! You're the best! See you later." The phone beeps as Jack hangs up. Maddie sighs while the corner of her lip twitches upwards. It's the closest she's come to smiling since Danny died. She holds like that for a moment, caught between the ache choking her heart and the desire for things to get better. They won't, not for a long time. She won't fool herself into thinking otherwise. But it's nice, for a moment, to pretend things might be okay.

"Leaving Jack alone with the DPR? I feel sorry for them." Vlad's slimy voice ruins the moment after the first syllable.

Maddie tenses, clutching her phone tighter, and turns to face him. "Vlad. It's bad business to ask for a meeting, then make your guest wait."

When Vlad smiles, his whitened teeth cut a bright slash across his cheeks. It's too wide, too sharp. Never reaches his eyes. Maddie remembers, long ago, when Vlad had a soft smile. He used it sparingly, doling it out to only the most deserved. She can't imagine him smiling like that now.

"Well, I don't mean to be presumptive, but when I phone a friend hoping for a visit, I expect them to stop by my house, not my work."

"Your mistake, then."

The receptionist's typing falters. Her have yet to stray from her screen, but Maddie already knows she's listening in. Vlad probably does, too.

"Natalie!" he snaps.

The receptionist jerks upright. "Yes, sir?"

Vlad rests a hand on Maddie's back and pushes her forward. She moves, if only to step out of his reach, and heads toward his office. Vlad reaches into his suit jacket as he walks. He pulls out his wallet and pinches a few random bills, tugging them out without looking. "Take a break. I'm sure you could use a coffee to perk you up."

He leans in front of Maddie to drop the bills on Natalie's desk. The contact makes Maddie grimace, and she hurries ahead into his office. When she turns, Vlad is already closing the door. The last thing Maddie sees of the waiting room is Natalie's frown as she glances at a paper cup sitting in plain view on her desk.

"Now, Maddie." Vlad turns. Rather than heading to his desk, he steps toward Maddie and touches her arm. "How are you doing?"

"You left me seven messages just so you could ask that?" Maddie brushes Vlad's hand off. In three long strides, she cuts across his office and takes one of the visitor's chairs. While the waiting room had plush armchairs, these are made of dark wood, armless, with firm leather cushions and straight backs. A deliberate choice, no doubt.

Vlad comes up beside her, his hand on the second chair. Before he can sit, Maddie swings her purse off her shoulder and drops it on the empty cushion. Vlad pauses, glances between her and the bag, but relents and takes his seat at the desk instead.

His chair sits considerably higher than Maddie's.

"I can imagine the pain you're going through right now," he says.

Maddie's fists clench. "Can you really?"

"Believe it or not, yes, I can." He pauses, giving her a chance to respond. But whatever question he wants her to ask, whatever game he wants to play, Maddie refuses to give in. She might have put up with him once, but after what he's done, he will be lucky if she willingly suffers his presence ever again after today.

She waits for Vlad to elaborate.

"I'm sure you've wondered, all this time, where Danny went whenever he disappeared for hours. Being our city's young hero explains a lot of it, yes, but to be honest, that wasn't everything." Vlad stops to take a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. It's quite the performance. "To tell you the truth, he was often with me."

Bullshit! Maddie wants to shout, but she bites it back. Her jaw aches from how hard she clenches her teeth.

"I discovered his secret a long time ago and gave him a safe place away from home. You know, when conversation at the dinner table got to be too much." Vlad pauses again, letting his words sink in.

Maddie hates that she knows exactly what he means. All those times she and Jack discussed their inventions, their plans for when they finally captured the ghost boy. Most of what Vlad is saying might be a lie, but the truth within it cuts her deeply. "Really?"

Vlad might think himself a great actor, but he's apparently ignorant to Maddie's own deception. He nods at her questioning tone, eyes low and mouth pressed into a grim line. "I understand this is hard to hear. I did my best to make him feel safe, and we actually became close. Over the years, I came to think of him as something of a son. And his death has affected me deeply."

He stands, trailing his hand along his desk as he walks around toward Maddie. His shoulders droop, as if Danny's absence weighs on him. It really is a good performance. Peering closer, Maddie sees that he even looks pallid, and purple bags rest under his eyes. A look easily accomplished with some pale foundation and smudged eyeshadow.

"It's like a piece of me is missing without him. I'm sure you feel the same. We need each other, Maddie. To make us whole again."

Vlad reaches toward her, but she ducks away from him, slipping out of her chair. His hand falls through the empty air and he stumbles, nearly falling into the chair.

Now he's being ridiculous, Maddie thinks. She could have fallen for the makeup and the sob story if she didn't know better, but the off balance act? The distressed look in his eye when she pulls away? She's insulted that he thinks she would fall for it.

"You're right Vlad. I'm in pain. Danny is gone and it feels like he took a piece of me with him when he died. But I have my family to help me through it." She grabs her purse off the other chair and heads for the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

"Madeline, please—"

"Vladimir!" Her shout tears at her throat. She turns on him, blinking to fight back the burn in her eyes. He stands frozen where she left him, crumpled pathetically against her empty chair, one hand still outstretched. Maddie swallows the lump in her throat. "Enough."

She leaves without another word.

Next

[vagrantblvrd]

That one AU where Ryan’s undercover, right?

Still with Narco or maybe he’s been shuffled around a bit, moved over to Robbery right around the time Homicide and Beckett get the case with Finch and Esposito’s old partner. (Or maybe a case crossed over and he’s being loaned out, idk, details and so on???)

And at the beginning of the case in comes Detective Demming in Robbery, formerly out of the 54th.

Castle is like >:(((((( because the man is just too pretty, and also probably rescues cats out of trees on his days off, and honestly, is he the only one to see this Detective Tom Demming as what he truly is?

(In his experience, someone who seems too good to be true isn’t, but clearly this Demming has bamboozled not only Beckett but Esposito and Captain Montgomery as well and it is up to the intrepid author of the group to prove it! ...as soon as he finds evidence.)

Meanwhile.

The case proceeds as usual and Lanie finds Ike’s prints on Finch’s body, which, you know Drama.

In comes Holliwell and the accusations and whatnot.

Esposito going to see Carol and Tim and asking if she knew and all that fun stuff?

But then!

Someone finds out that Finch was in contact with this guy, someone who could help them with a Thing (technical issue, get them something else they needed, who can say, right?) and of course it happens to by this guy who happens to know Demming.

Seems delighted to see him, all friendly like as they haul him in to ask a few questions and he’s got this smirk and is “hey, Demming. See you’ve moved up in the world,” and generally being a cocky little shit because he knows they can’t pin anything on him and also he has an alibi, but yeah, sure. Why not humor the cops for a bit? Should be fun.

Demming is just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ because yes, okay, he knows this little weasel. Busted him a few times for minor offenses and the whatnot but he always gets out and no one can make anything stick. But. He’s got a reputation for being able to get people what they need and rumors tying him to a string of robberies in a case a few years ago they were never able to solve.

But everyone knows he had something to do with it, you know?

So they ask him a few questions and get a lead. Doesn’t pan out, but what did they expect, really? (The next time they haul him in he does have a lead that pans out, so that’s nice.)

Shenanigans and whatnot, they see the footage showing Finch’s wife and Ike casing the bank and bring her in for questioning. Esposito races to Ike’s with Beckett and he has that conversation about it that’s all about Drama.

Back to the precinct and Beckett sparring with Demming and the “stealthy” sneaking around to get Demming’s SIM card and ~reveal that oh, yeah, no.

Not a dirty cop and you should all feel ashamed about even considering the possibility because the man is an angel, okay? An absolute angel.

(He definitely rescues cats out of trees on his way to coach underprivileged kids, you know he does.)

And then!

Esposito running off to help Ike steal the ledger and Demming is like ah, yes, Esposito is totally taking “a walk” and excuses himself to make a phone call, as you do.

Beckett and the others realize Holliwell is the dirty cop and since Esposito isn’t back yet – but before they can theorize as to why that is, Demming comes back in and says a “reliable source” told him Ike’s going after the ledger as they speak and with Esposito nowhere to be found it makes sense he’d be with him, right?

There’s this Moment where Beckett and Castle do the brain-twin thing and go hmmmm because it’s a little too convenient how Demming came by that info, but no time to worry about that now, they have to get to Ike and Esposito before Holliwell does.

Holliwell showing up to catch Esposito and Ike in the act and the pew-pew shooting before Beckett and the others catch Holliwell trying to make a break for it.

AND THEN.

Shenanigans in which other cases are dealt with and every so often Demming shows up and oh, hey.

Also Demming’s little weasel buddy?

Enough that he starts in on giving Esposito and the others grief too when they bring him in for questioning?

(Kind of weird how he keeps popping up, but whatever. Demming says the guy’s just like that and you just get used to it? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Eventually though, there’s a case, right?

Some murder that’s tied to drugs and robberies and homicide(s) and he’s a suspect – and then a key witness – and all the good will and trust he’s built up with his little criminal circle doesn’t mean a damn thing when someone put a price on his head and anyway.

“Wait, what?”

Because they have to protect him from the baddies – a stipulation if they want the information he’s got in that head of his – and it’s like.

Like, sure. They could do that, or they could maybe put more pressure on the guy? Beckett and Esposito could break him, just give them time, and Demming is like.

“I mean, you could, but it wouldn’t get you much. Trust me.”

And so the safehouse and Demming’s little weasel courting painful, drawn-out murderization from Beckett and the others with all the shit he gives them? Seems delighted by it like he has no idea how close they are to snapping, and does he realize they definitely how to hide a body where no one will find it, but whatever.

The thing is, Beckett and the others would rather die than admit that yes, okay. They, too, have a soft spot for the little bastard the way Demming seems to?

Such a little shit, but weirdly endearing and also he has helped them out a time or two before, you know?

He really gets under Esposito's skin, though. Because flirty little bastard and Castle is like a kid in a candy store because a criminal willing to share stories and whatnot who hasn’t (yet) threatened to kill him!

Incredible!

Amazing!

(Also, a fan!)

Beckett kind of loves the way he pushes Esposito’s buttons and he’s just. It’s hard not to like him. (She pointedly ignores the looks she gets from Demming because they’re all of the “I told you so” variety and anyway.)

And then!

After a couple of days of this the weasel disappears on them – and it’s all !!! and also >:((((((((((( because not only how, but why????

Demming goes to get answers from his people while Beckett and the others try to find out where the little bastard’s gone.

Realize, after going over what they know about the case and the little bastard that of course he’s gone to talk to someone – make a deal with his boss (the one who put the price on his head) or something and anyway -

Demming runs into them to tell them there’s some kind of meet going on...somewhere and his weasel’s involved, and then madcap race to get there before the little bastard gets himself killed.

Shenanigans in which the bad guy gets the drop on Beckett and the others, looks like the whole gang is about to be murderized, right?

Drama and Bad Guy Confessions Via Monologue, the weasel about to get murdered for real, but what’s this?

A bunch of cops in from Narco and Robbery, also Captain Montgomery and associates and all cavalry to the rescue to save the day?

Bad guys in cuffs being led off and Esposito hauling the weasel along, pissed off like you wouldn’t believe because of course the little bastard snuck out on his watch – scared the shit out of him – and just.

Very much Annoyed.

Demming takes charge of the little weasel when they get back to the station, had this odd little smile on his face as Esposito hauled him away, right? One Beckett and Castle just could not figure out and then!

Beckett and the others up in Homicide finishing off reports and whatnot and not quite ready to head home?

She gets a call from Demming, says he has someone he wants them to meet and if everyone’s still there? To which she is like yes?????

And then!

Few minutes later the elevator goes ding!

Ding goes the elevator and out comes Demming and his little weasel?

No cuffs this time, and it looks like he’s had time to clean up and get a change of clothes, which is probably for the best because of all the blood and whatnot after being knocked around by the bad guys before Beckett and the others showed up.

Which also huh, you know, huh. Like, sure. Guy’s not their murder suspect, but also other crimes and why, okay, why is Demming smiling like that? Why is the weasel smiling like that?

(He does clean up well, though. Not that Esposito is staring or anything, goodness no.)

“Thought you’d like to meet Detective Kevin Ryan.”

Shit-eating grins on both their faces and Beckett and the others like what and then attempted murder of Ryan by Esposito because that little shit, and then shenanigans?

Also going out for drinks and the telling of a story that involves undercover work and many instances of running into Beckett and the others and being like – “Do you guys ever get a normal homicide case?” because Kevin’s new here and doesn’t realize and anyway.

For some reason Kevin Ryan ends up transferring to Homicide and Esposito grumbles to anyone who will listen for forever afterwards about getting stuck with him, but it’s pretty obvious someone needs to look out for the idiot.

And then shenanigans and Castle still prying stories and whatnot out of Ryan every chance he gets – Esposito gets this look on his face when he’s around for one because they’ve all gotten to know the little idiot by now and how the hell is he not dead yet???

And perhaps, also, there is still ~flirting because Ryan is still a little shit and Esposito cannot with this moron, but also there’s a betting pool, because of course there is.

Castle has a !!! “My goodness, I never would have expected you, of all people, to take part in this,” to Demming when he ponies up some money for the betting pool on how long until those idiots figure out their shit.

(Meanwhile, Ryan gets in on the betting pool about Beckett and Castle because how do they not see it and anyway, yes.)

Shenanigans???

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[acraftedmistake]

Nether Time!

Cassie and Petra need to get stuff from the Nether! It’s been a while since they’ve done this.

“Nether time!” Petra sang as she leapt out the portal.

“Nether time!” Cassie Rose chimed as well, landing right beside her friend.

The two exchanged big grins with one another. Cassie was holding onto her outfit so tightly she thought it’d tear.

It’s been ages since they’ve been in their house together. Everything still looked and felt the same. The red and teal carpet was still covering the netherrack floor, still stained and torn, the walls were that weird combination of wood and netherrack that she remembers so fondly, shelves and counters surrounded them, holding both their’s and the previous owner’s items. Those four cushioned chairs they placed in the upper left corner of the house--the ‘kitchen’--have yet to move. The kitchen itself was just a few chests filled with food, a battered stove that stopped working years ago, and a cauldron with strange splatters in it. There were also the remains of their kitchen table. Used to be fine, sturdy wood, but when they first arrived at this house, monsters were trying to break in, so they had to use the base of the table and the legs to fend themselves. The decorations were still hung up too! Bells, chimes, other sorts of art pieces attached to strings that hung from the ceiling, just as Cassie remembers it.

Well, it technically isn’t ‘their’ house. Their portal just happened to appear inside this strange old place one day, and they claimed it. Finders keepers, you know? Besides, the previous owners were probably long dead.

“Come on, we need to get your pumpkin.” Petra made her way to the counters beside the portal. The countertops were covered with broken weapons, ores, and strange nik naks they found over the years, and sitting in the middle of it all: Cassie’s white pumpkin.

Petra grabbed the hollowed fruit and spun it around in her hands, “You’ll be happy to hear I’ve been taking good care of your other pumpkins back at the cave.”

“That’s impressive, considering you somehow managed to kill a cactus that one time.”

“Hey, I already told you that stupid cactus killed itself. I was gone for one day, and when I came back, it was dead. I did nothing wrong.” Petra denied as she tossed Cassie her pumpkin.

Cassie quickly dropped her extra set of clothes to catch her it, “Did you water it when the soil got dry?”

“It’s a cactus. Water’s irrelevant.” Petra avoided Cassie’s little glare by facing the counter again and sorting through the random items.

Cassie held the pumpkin in her hands and stared at it for a moment. It’s been a few years since she’s worn it last. Memories were flooding through her. She still remembered how she first got her hands on her first pumpkin; she stole it from a crazy old guy’s backyard. She just happened to spot it while walking through a random town one day, Petra told her ‘If ya like it, get it.’ And she did exactly that. It was a real strange pumpkin. When the two cut it open, it hardly had any guts, and the inside smelled like… Nothing. Well, it smelled ‘wet’ if that was possible. The sorta wetness you’d smell in a forest after it’d rain. They were surprised at how durable it was too, which soon sparked the amazing idea of shoving her head inside the pumpkin and using it for protective gear. It sounds ridiculous--heck, it probably looks ridiculous--but it works, and Cassie likes it, so that’s all that matters.

Cassie ended up planting the few pumpkin seeds years ago, and before she knew it, she had a bunch of = pumpkins to last.

Cassie can trust Petra with the pumpkin care, but she always makes sure to check in on them. That white pumpkin got her into plants, she even has a few houseplants back at home, but she’s still too embarrassed to tell anyone yet.

“Oh!” Petra snapped her fingers. She dashed back to the portal, shoved the upper-half of her body into the vortex, then came back out with her Wither Skull in hands. “Nearly forgot this bad boy.”

“I’m surprised that thing’s still in one piece.” Cassie said while she watched Petra grab a cloth from a chest in the kitchen.

“Right? This thing’s insane!” Petra exclaimed as she cleaned the inside of her painted skull. “One time I forgot it outside, a quake happened, and when I ran out to get it back, a tree landed on it and it was still in one piece.”

“You ever thinking of repainting it?” Cassie asked. She began putting on her long, oversized, dark blue pants over her leggings.

“Nah, the stripes are iconic. “ Petra tossed the cloth aside then shoved her head into the skull.

Cassie let out a grunt as she struggled to put her large long-sleeved shirt over her hoodie. She knew she was going to be drowning in sweat with three layers on, but that’s three extra layers of fire protection. When she finally got it on, she began tying the belt around her waist and slipped on her thick, brown gloves.

As she was adjusting her gloves, Petra handed her a crooked pickaxe and a worn-down sword.

“If I knew you were comin’ over today, I would’ve made some better tools for you.” Petra said. She was holding a blue backpack in her other hand that’s seen better days. One black strap had been completely torn off while the other was just barely holding on. There were holes where the buttons used to be. Hopefully it’ll be able to hold their stuff.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Cassie said, holding the tools by the sides of her arms. “We’re just gonna pick up a few things anyways.”

Cassie stuck her head into the pumpkin.

“You ready?” Cassie asked, her voice muffled. She took the weapons out and held them firmly.

“Super ready.” Petra smiled as she watched Cassie twirl the tools around before shoving them into her pockets.

Petra swung open the front door, and a horrible heatwave rushed in and hit their faces. Cassie’s eyes watered. You’d think after all those years of exploring the Nether, she’d get used to it, but it always seems to get worse each time.

Petra held the door open with her foot and the girls made some quick, last-minute readjustments with their outfits.

Cassie glanced to the side and spotted a familiar sign hanging under the doorknob. It was a piece of oak wood with the words “No Boys Allowed” that she made as a joke. That was way back when they first spawned into this house.

“Why do you still have that old sign up?” Cassie asked, surprised it hadn’t burnt to a crisp.

“To keep the boys out.” Petra said casually as she closed the door.

“But we’re the only two here though.”

“All thanks to the sign.” A little smirk formed on Petra’s face.

Cassie rolled her eyes and gave Petra a playful shove as they went out into The Neighborhood.

The Neighborhood… A sweltering ghost town. Awakening members used to live here years ago. Their ‘homes’ were just hollowed out holes in netherrack hills, making the place look more like a Hellish wasp nest than a cozy neighborhood. The openings were usually covered in old wood, and their front doors were rather busted or missing. And the way these houses were placed in such unorganized clutters just felt… Wrong. People weren’t meant to live in the Nether.

Any leftover space was taken up by Nether portals. It didn’t matter if the space between the houses were huge or cramped, people found ways of making the portals fit. Maybe the Neighborhood looked real pretty when the portals were all activated, but they’ve been deactivated for years, and Cassie and Petra weren’t planning on lighting them up anytime soon. It was bad luck to reactivate dead portals.

“So what things you lookin’ for again?” Petra asked.

“Gold’s high on the list,” Cassie replied, “we also need extra iron, extra flint, and some netherrack just in case.”

“Awh shoot, what?!” Petra froze. Her tone turned serious.

“What? What’s up?!”

“Do you know how hard it is to find netherrack!? We’ll be looking around for hours!” Petra exclaimed, standing on the netherrack floor. Surrounded by netherrack hills. With a netherrack covered sky.

Cassie couldn’t see Petra’s face, but she KNEW she had that big, dumb smile.

Cassie gave her a quick bonk on the skull and bent down to gather an arms-full of netherrack chunks, all while Petra was laughing.

“Damn, talk about lucky.” Petra teased, “You always had a good eye for rare items.” She slipped the bag off her shoulders and opened the flap for Cassie.

“Yeah, yeah. You gonna be messing with me the entire time we’re here?” Cassie rolled her eyes as she shoved the netherrack into the sack.

“Awh, come on, it’s been almost two years since we’ve done this. I’ve missed ya.” Petra said. The two began walking again. “It’s really boring without ya, you know?”

“Man, has it really been two years?” Cassie stared at her feet, a feeling of guilt starting to gnaw at her.

“But I mean--mentally, it’s only been two days.” Cassie said, looking back at Petra.

“Ex-ACT-ly. Time doesn’t move unless we’re together. Common knowledge.” Petra gave her a grin. Cassie couldn’t see most of it, but she could feel it. It was reassuring.

The two stepped over a wooden bridge that was splayed out over the ground. It’s been there since day once, wood planks, rope, and all. They kept telling themselves they’re gonna move it, but they never do. It’s not like it’s a huge obstacle or anything.

There was a lotta stuff like that around the Neighborhood. If you looked up, you could see more bridges hanging between the hills, many of them missing their planks or dangling by their threads, and a bunch of the houses built into the top of the hills had staircases, ladders, or ramps that stretched all across the area. Cassie and Petra had the “fun” experience of finding out which ones were stable or not.

“So, shouldn’t we start looking through the houses or somethin’?” Cassie asked, her eyes scanning the dozens of houses they’d have to scour through.

There were still items in these houses. Even though this place was abandoned years ago, a looming presence remains. Dirty dishes sitting in cauldrons, rotting meals on kitchen tables, unfinished letters on desks, wrinkled blankets on unmade beds, all signs that this ghost town was once full of life. Petra and Cassie have spotted many weird trinkets The Awakening members have made; chunky jewelry, small dolls carved from nearby materials, chimes, and masks that lacked eyeholes. Many, many art pieces included the Awakening symbols: A red flower with hundreds of petals, their empty eye, and the Hero. Another thing many homes seemed to have were mirrors, but they were never in one piece. Instead, they were often broken into several large parts and tied to strings that’d hang from the ceiling, or arranged in odd shapes on the walls. Sometimes the shape would resemble their eye, but most of the time it looked like nonsense.

“Nah, I have a different place in mind.” Petra replied.

“Have we been there before?” Cassie tilted her head.

“Perhaps.” Petra said, “Just gotta wait and see.”

The two stayed on the path, which was a mix of netherrack, gravel, and soul soil, passing under the hanging decor above.

Wooden poles were on each side of the path with rope tied to the tops, connecting them together while chimes, flags, and glass hung from the threads. When a hot breeze came by, the Neighborhood would create its own music. The clinking of the glass, the flapping of banners, the clattering of metal chimes, and the creaking of wooden doors created this strange but soothing sympathy to fill the silence.

“How’re things with the other Jesse and Olivia goin’?” Petra asked, swinging her sword around.

“Frustrating.” Cassie huffed.

“Oh?”

“Things were kinda going okay until Aiden decided to basically blurt out what was happening to our Jesse. Now Stella’s all stressed out, and we gotta keep an eye out for that cult creep, and Aiden’s probably gonna be super bummed that he made poor little Jesse upset--” Cassie ranted.

“I remember bout Aiden spillin’ the beans.” Petra commented. “Sorry everything’s been stressful.”

“It’s been so freaky with those two around! I dunno if I should be happy, upset, but Hero, everytime I look at them for more than a minute I start to feel sick.” Cassie felt that familiar queasy feeling rising in her stomach, “I’m not saying they’re bad people or something, just that… Everything sucks. And having our Jesse running around isn’t helping.”

“I mean, it’s a weird situation. Don’t blame you at all for feeling that way. Heck, even when I first saw them I was thrown off. Felt like two freaks wearing Olivia and Jesse’s skins.” Petra noticed her friend falling behind and waited for her to catch up.

“That’s a fun way to put it.” Cassie said, trudging along.

“Jess and Liv,” Cassie mumbled, “they’re nice, but I can’t wait for them to go home. I wanna forget this ever happened. They make me miss those two all over again.”

“I can imagine.” Petra went quiet when Cassie joined her side. The sounds of the Neighborhood filled the air.

Petra extended her arm out, “I’m here for ya, though, ya know? If you ever wanna complain, cry, or get angry about that Radar guy, I’m always here.” It was hard to see it, but through the gaps of the skull’s teeth, Petra was giving her a smile.

“Thanks.” Cassie took one hand out of her pocket and went to lock arms with Petra, something they used to do years ago, “I mean it.”

“Course.” Petra said.

And with that, the two picked up the pace.

Petra glanced at her friend then glanced at the various portals surrounding them, “I’m gonna guess Jesse and Olivia didn’t walk through an obsidian portal, right?”

“No, some weird blue portal. Probably lapis. I wish it was somethin’ as easy as obsidian.” Cassie sighed. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen Jesse recently?” She asked.

“Nope.” Petra lied, “Not yet. I’ll let you know though.”

Cassie gave her a nod and looked ahead. They were nearing the Nether Fortress. Their Nether Fortress.

Seeing this place after so long… It was like seeing it for the first time again. The broken, tall towers, the bridge stretching across the sea of lava, the ruined railway system, it was so otherworldly. The only thing missing were those hundreds of monsters crawling around the place that Cassie and Petra used to beat up.

That wide open bridge over boiling magma--with the Fortress being so close--was just begging Cassie to run across it.

Petra noted Cassie’s excitement and unlocked arms with her.

“Go ‘head, I’ll be right behind ya.” Petra said with a grin, and on cue, Cassie bolted off to the entrance.

Memories of the two of them raced through Cassie’s mind. The hot air hitting her face, the colors blurring together, her feet stinging each time they hit the ground, it was just like old times. This was liberating.

“Hey, I’m winning!”

Cassie whipped her head at just the right time to see Petra taking the lead.

“Not for long!” Cassie hollered as she picked up the pace.

They were both set on the entrance. Cassie could see Petra out of the corner of her eye. She could feel the confidence radiating from her, like she knew she was gonna win. But not this time.

When Cassie was just feet from the entrance, she dived. She crashed into the ground, her pumpkin making a loud THUD when it hit the floor.

Before she could push herself up, Petra fell on top of her. She must’ve had the same idea.

Both of them were laying on the ground, panting and laughing.

“Pretty sure I won.” Petra finally said.

“Nu-uh, my hand made it past the entrance first!” Cassie shot back, still breathing heavily.

“Yeah, but your hand didn’t touch the ground first, so technically--”

“Since when were you about technicalities?!” Cassie exclaimed. Petra could hear the laughs between her words.

“Alright, if it’ll make you happy, then I’ll admit it…” Petra got up and helped Cassie to her feet. “We tied.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Welp, guess we’ll never know who won.” Petra shrugged. Cassie gave her a playful shove.

“Yeah, yeah.” Cassie adjusted her belt. The two stopped and faced an intersection of three hallways.

“Which way do we need to go?” asked Cassie.

Petra glanced at the wooden arrow signs above then pointed ahead, “Straight, then a left, then straight again.”

“Got it.” Cassie started walking and couldn’t help but snicker at the words on the signs. There were a bunch of those signs hanging around here, their original words have long since faded, so she and Petra took some creative liberties.

Cassie recalled those directions, they were heading towards the ‘Spicy Abyss’, which was the second bridge on the other side of the Fortress. It's in ruins, so the two of them just like to sit on the edge and enjoy the view.

The middle sign was ‘Lotsa Boxes’, which is the hallway they’re currently walking through. It’s a rather wide hall--nearly as wide as the bridge they just crossed--that’s filled with abandoned stalls, carts, and chests. The stalls had boxes in, on, and around them, the old carts had boxes in them, and the chests--the chests were already boxes. This place must’ve been a Trading Hall, a storage, or even a marketplace for the Neighborhood back then. The way everything was arranged reminded Cassie of the night-market in Obsidian Town; lots of trading, buying, and selling, except not in the middle of the blazing-hot Nether.

Banners hung from short poles in the walls, all shades of red, turquoise, and gold while covered with symbols and faded words advertising goods. When Cassie and Petra first found this place, they were surprised at how many tools, ores, and old books were left behind, so of course they gathered them all up and sold ‘em. Made them a great deal of money!

The two took a left and continued down another hallway. They were pretty close to ‘Petra Fell’; those were the words on the last sign. It was one of the three tall towers you could see through the windows. It was the shortest of the bunch, it’s upper half is completely missing, but it was the best place to climb and get a fantastic view.

Cassie and Petra haven’t been on top of that tower in years. The last time they were, Petra was playing around near the edge, stumbled, and nearly fell to her death had it not been for Cassie catching her. Petra’s been terrified of heights since then. Cassie can’t blame her.

It’d be nice to rush through that tower again with Petra, even if she didn’t want to go to the very top, it’d be a great… The tower…

It looked different.

Cassie couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was off. She could feel it.

“Hey, did that tower get shorter? Or have I just been gone for too long?” Cassie asked.

Petra didn’t even glance at the tower, “Already noticing my hard work, I see.”

“Hard work?” Cassie tilted her head. Petra didn’t elaborate. Cassie kept pestering her, but she wouldn’t budge until they reached the end of the hall.

Where there used to be a big, gaping hole was now covered up by tons of banners. They were sloppily sewn together, trying to hide every piece of the other side.

“So,” Petra began, “Remember how I said I had a different place in mind to find those items?”

“Yeah?” Cassie answered slowly.

“And remember how we always wanted to build that bridge to the other side of the Nether?” A grin grew on Petra’s face as she watched Cassie’s eyes light up.

Cassie gasped, “No, nu-uh, you did not!”

“I did.” Petra raised her brows. When Cassie took another step forward, Petra yanked the banners off to reveal a magnificent bridge that stretched across the sea of lava and connected to the other side of the Nether. It was a mish mash of netherrack, nether brick, gravel, and even some obsidian. There weren’t any rails on it, and Cassie was certain it hardly had any support underneath it.

It looked dangerous.

It looked fantastic.

Petra watched Cassie take all this in. She was bouncing in place, hands over her mouth, all excited like a li’l kid. Man, Petra could only imagine what Cassie’s face was like under that pumpkin. Her eyes were probably sparkling and she had that big, dorky smile that’s bright enough to light up this entire fortress.

“Oh Hero, oh--Oh I canNOT believe you!” Cassie exclaimed, grabbing Petra and shaking her excitedly before giving her a big hug.

“Hey, we always wanted to see more of the Nether together.” Petra chuckled, “Thought this would be a nice little surprise for when you came back.”

Cassie let go to look at the bridge again; Petra took a lungful of air.

“And don’t worry, it’s stable.” Petra said, “I’ve tested this bad boy out hundreds of times and only had several near death experiences.”

“Perfect, great! All I need to hear.” Cassie was revved up. She dug her feet into the ground, ready to blast off, but she stopped herself. “Agh, wait. I promised Aiden I’d come back home soon.”

“How soon?” Petra leaned against the wall.

“Like, by the end of tomorrow, I think?”

“Well, you got here at a pretty good time, so we got, what? Several hours to work with?” Petra tapped the skull’s chin, “If we’re fast enough, we could see some good sights and get your stuff. So whaddya say?”

Petra got closer to Cassie, “Wanna see how fast we can blast through this sucker?”

Despite the skull hiding her face, Cassie knew Petra was smiling, and Cassie smiled right back at her.