#the real ghost ship walks among us now

[bewitched-forest]

Formula for a Crime Scene - Ch 3

Circumstances leave Artemis Fowl and Danny Fenton living in Gotham to attend Gotham Academy with Damian Wayne. More circumstances lead to the three boys becoming unlikely friends, and eventually something more. Now the three must navigate a world of superheroes, fairies, and ghosts together.

The worldbuilding of this fic was co-written by my friend, @half-dead-ham, and myself! They will be posting their own Crime Scene (The name of the ship as dubbed by another friend, @thetoyboxs) fic that will have similar plotlines, as we made them together! So behave!

[Ao3 Link Here]

} ~ – ~ {

Artemis crossed his arms, settling into the chair. Usually, he would enjoy the luxuries of somewhere on the Fowl private jet. But this would not be one of those times.

Butler sits down across from him, setting his elbows on his knees. “Artemis.”

Artemis scowls at his bodyguard and friend. “I don’t appreciate this.”

Butler sighs. “You need to get your degree Artemis.”

“As I informed my mother, I could just as easily get my ELC early in Ireland. They don’t need to send me to school, much less some academy in America.”

“You died Artemis. For six months, you were dead. You can’t blame them for wanting you to be somewhere you can be kept an eye on.”

“Yes because Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy of Gotham, inspires that much confidence,” Artemis says with a sneer, suppressing the flinch at hearing Butler talk about his death.

Butler sighs, pinching his nose. “I don’t know about Bruce, but Alfred Pennyworth is a good friend of mine. Surely, you could find something good to do with your time in Gotham. The… others are in a good place now. There’s no need for you. Perhaps, you could let yourself have time to relax. Have fun. Be a regular 16 year old.”

Artemis groans. “I haven’t been ‘regular’ anything since I was 12 years old Butler. Which was 7 years ago, if you’ll recall. I have no desire to associate myself with the imbecilic masses without any real idea of responsibility.”

“Well I’m afraid you’re just going to have to deal with it, Artemis. I am on specific orders from your parents to ensure you get to and stay in Gotham.”

Artemis scowls. “And I thought you were my bodyguard, Butler.”

“I am. But I’m also your friend, Artemis. You can’t keep doing this. Throwing yourself into trouble. One of these days you’re going to buckle from the pressure and none of us may be there to help you. And you won’t be able to get out of it yourself.”

Artemis huffs, crossing his arms and looking out the window. He was more than capable of handling a little pressure. He was one of the only humans entrusted with the knowledge that the People existed. He had died, and had a plan that led to him being revived.

He was ill fitted for normality, that much he knew. High school at some fancy prep academy full of idiotic school children who knew nothing but a life of pampering was even more ill-suited for him. He had saved the world, for gods’ sake. What was he doing being squashed in among the rabble.

“We will be touching down in Gotham in another hour. You’ve missed the first day of the year already, and will have to miss the second as well to acclimate to Gotham. But you will be attending on the third day,” says Butler as he stands. Artemis simply keeps looking out the window, causing Butler to sigh and walk to the other areas of the plane.

Artemis looks behind him to glance at Butler, before shifting and pulling out his laptop. He opens it, pulling up his research of Gotham. Since simply not going has failed him, he will have to go with some of his more proactive plans. Currently, plan B was to sabotage the Wayne family as much as possible. If that failed, he had other plans. One was particularly nuclear as while it would most certainly get him returned home, it would most likely result in him being quite actively watched by his family. As such, it was currently the last resort.

But enough about that for now. Right now, Artemis needs to study. From what he could find, the only current residents of Wayne Manor were Bruce Wayne himself, his sons Damian Wayne and Tim Drake, and the butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Upon being informed that he would be staying with the Waynes, Butler had informed him that Pennyworth was a former colleague of his, both having served in the army.

That unfortunately meant Pennyworth would have to remain unbothered. Butler would only allow him to do so much, and it would be best to avoid alerting him.

This of course, left the other members of the household. The easiest choice would be Damian Wayne. There were multiple accounts of how Damian was prone to anger, and the two would be attending school together, though in different grades. The most effective, however, would most likely be Tim Drake. Despite only being 20, he was already a CEO for Wayne Enterprises. Sabotaging him would mean sabotaging the company.

Artemis would have to adjust his plans once he arrived, of course. It's said that the other Waynes rotated out of the manor quite often, and of course the media could get things wrong. Not to mention, methods of sabotage would have to be conjured after study. It would be ill advised to make a plan now, before he had all the information.

Artemis hummed, perking up at the thud of Butler’s boots making their way towards him. Artemis scowled, closing the laptop and returning it to his case.

If he shifted, lacing his fingers and setting his chin against them. He would have to find a way home, one that evaded Butler’s attention long enough for him to pull it off. Being this far away from home wasn’t the issue for Artemis. He’d been through Limbo. But being this far proposed another problem than just Artemis’s discomfort. Gotham was notoriously corrupt and dangerous. So much so though even the People had heard of it, designating the place as a no fly zone for officers. While Holly was never going to follow rules, Artemis knew Gotham was no joke. If he was needed while he was staying in Gotham, Holly would be flying into a trap not even set to capture her.

Batman had banned metas from Gotham, as well as those who weren’t human, in an effort to mitigate the issues that may happen if they were captured and used by Gotham’s rogues. Artemis has no doubts that a faerie would be considered a prize among them, due to the unique properties of fae magic. Not to mention, Holly didn’t have permission in Gotham. While back at the manor she had permission to enter the dwelling, as well as the privacy, she would have neither in Gotham. While Artemis could plausibly grant Holly the permission she needed to enter Wayne Manor, the nature of Gotham would make her slipping in unnoticed extremely difficult.

It was long decided. Artemis would be ensuring his stay in Gotham was as short as possible.

[cbsghostsmetasandtrevor]

CBS Ghosts - Hello! - Sam's Confrontation of The Ghosts - Part 2 - "The Demands"

Spoilers will absolutely appear.

So, After Sam goes: WHAT DO YOU WANT?

WHY - do NONE of them say "No hotel" - that should be the FIRST thing, that is why they did what they did... like, the fuck?

In fact, throughout the whole scene NOT ONE GHOST mentions the B&B as the thing they don't want.

Instead, they ask for other things. Not even Pete, who literally just says 'hello'.

Anyway.

I love that the FIRST person she chooses is the Viking.

She's probably aware that he's the oldest. Interesting though, is that this is the same general order of the FIRST ghosts she mentions in the first confrontation scene. She says "A hippie and Viking" - here, the Viking is first.

Thus, Jay, at least, knows a Viking walks among them. (Not that he could see them).

ANYWAY,

THOR'S REQUEST - TV Time.

This is hilarious. Like this is probably how they ended up using TV time as additional currency beyond the back rubs.

Sam's so confused that Pete has translate. LMAO. Pete's a THOR TRANSLATOR - new ship? JK, I do wonder why Sam couldn't figure that out.

It's interesting that Thor was easily distracted and now seems on board with Sam staying if he gets to see his people.

Also - look at the gif with everyone's faces - what is this reaction?

Isaac is like huh? Jay's looking in the corner (when Sam's looking directly in front of her). Hetty is looking... shocked. Flower is estactic. And I can't figure out WHAT Alberta is doing, but it works really well with Thor's arm thing. These ghosts are so fun even in the background.

Best CAST EVER.

In a surprise turn of events, Sam goes not to Flower, Alberta, Isaac or Hetty, but turns to TREVOR. Who is ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM from Thor. Like where's the logic?

She doesn't know his name (I'm assuming) as she calls him the 'Wolf of Wall Street' - which hints at his career. What's interesting - (and absolutely doesn't excuse him) is that he is SO FREAKING SURPRISED to be chosen next... I think he fully expected to be last - if at all.

I'm convinced that that's why he says this instead of a real option. Because Trevor isn't this dumb, and he knows there's no way she would actually do this, but it's something that would be expected (by his fellow ghosts) to say and it would make sense for it to break the ice and tense situation with a joke of sorts.

OTOH, WTF BRO?

This is a whack thing to say - off the top of his head, serious or not - but it is interesting because it established his LI arc - he WANTS someone, he latches onto Sam because she's the first person to ignite these feelings since he died (I assume), and now, it reminds him of what he missed out on (and always wanted). Helped, of course by the closeness in age (I think).

Like I said, I don't think this was a serious request, but it's interesting that his power and connection to the living connected him to Sam, but he still says even with 'death do you part' that she would have to leave Jay for it, but still be casual. Because A) he's not a cheater, and B) he's freaked out about commitment no matter what he really wants and it was a request that would be for *eternity*. You can't ask something like that and not be ready for forever.

LIKE REALLY, Trev, this isn't a casual-type request. You want her to be a ghost like that's... intense.

Side note - I have like a whole meta idea in my head about Trevor's pursuit of love which I'll write someday.

I have to wonder if he'd been wearing pants, if she would have said something else like I don't know - I have a husband and I want to keep living, but thanks.

The way she checks him out feels a bit charged. BUT naturally, the pants are in the way - ALSO she totally assumed he died having sex, and let's be real, WHO WOULD KEEP ON A RESTRICTED SUIT JACKET if they were having sex? Like that shit is uncomfortable.

The only way this makes sense is if the sex was in a bathroom at a club, but he a) was not at a club and b) you would still keep your pants on, maybe around your knees, but...ANYWAY.

Gross is a completely valid response. LOL at Jay 'What did he say?'

It's so interesting that she goes from Oldest to Youngest in order of who to ask.

Isaac was SO WAITING FOR THIS.

I think he was practicing this in his head while waiting for a chance - I wonder if he as annoyed that he wasn't the first one chosen for the demands. Especially since he's the captain and clearly wanted to lead the charge.

Anyway, he stands up - interesting. And his comment about hearing that she is a writer - sets her on edge.

It's interesting that Sam crosses her arms when he says that - it's as if she's expecting some commentary on how she shouldn't be a writer? (As someone in a field where it happens ... I bet there was something about the way Isaac said this that set her on the defense).

But it's very interesting THIS put her on edge, but NOT what Trevor asked.

However, she still listens to his want of a book to be written about him.

Side note - both He and Alberta WANT to be remembered by history, and this book and wanting to be remembered comes up again throughout the series & I really like that.

It's especially interesting that she ends up following through with this request. And that it makes them closer together, spending so much time working on it.

I do wonder why Sam never offered to do the same for Alberta?

She seems interested, although still defensive. Which is interesting. I wonder why she's so defensive with Isaac and not the others?

We don't see her directly react to the musical bit - and have to wonder - when did she learn about Hamilton vs Isaac? Also, interesting is that if Sam had never come there, they wouldn't have haunted her out, she wouldn't have had her accident, she wouldn't see them, and Isaac might never have discovered this issue. So, it's very interesting how everything strings together so well, and that despite not 100% agreeing in this moment, THIS moment changes both of their lives later on.

Side note - love Alberta's like side eye to a nod.

Also, interesting 2 - 1, yes/maybe vs no on requests.

I love the movement of between Isaac and Alberta here.

Isaac sits and Alberta stands. She doesn't wait for Sam to choose her next, instead standing and making her request.

Okay, So Alberta's request is for Sam to have a MURDER MYSTERY DINNER PARTY - with people who WOULD HAVE NO WAY of knowing who murdered her. It's been 93 (1928-2021) years, Alberta, everyone who would've known, would be DEAD. Why would their descendants know?

Also, what kind of revenge do you think Alberta had in mind? She did mention dropping someone off a country bridge in the first episode....

Also, OMG, the looks on Isaac's face is like "did you really just ask that?" He's side-eyeing her so bad right now and it's hilarious.

Hetty's got an interesting look too. (Clearly, because she KNOWS something). Plus, I love the concerned look on Pete's face. He clearly worries about Alberta's revenge.

Sam laughing and saying no - that makes it 2-2 for requests. I would also laugh and say no.

BUT it's interesting that A) Sam does end up solving her murder and B) that she would have been the descendant that would've had the 'revenged enacted on her'.

Last note here, but Sam should have some murder mystery dinner parties, it would be fun.

Laugh, No - Woodstock!

LMAO Flower, HOW exactly is Sam supposed to give WORLD PEACE? Or end bear attacks?

Like Trevor's, this feels unrealistic and more of a joke to break the ice and seriousness of it. Which is interesting that it's THOSE TWO - the young ghosts, the ones that want to have fun, and the ones that don't want their afterlife to be so serious. They were both fun and partying in life and thus, make jokes.

BTW, the LOOKS on Isaac and Thor's faces here, kill me.

Sam's just like "Sure - I can totally do that."

ONTO Hetty or to Jay - Downton Abbey.

LMAO, I love that Hetty's like "Your husband is awful and you must fix the awful hole."

The looks on the ghosts' face around her, are like "Really, insulting her husband"?

I love how Sam doesn't say yes or no (although clearly a yes) and just says "Jay not awful" - Jay is SO OFFENDED.

Oh man, Jay/Hetty rivalry is a thing - of course, only for half the season. Not as big as Jay/Trevor rivalry.

NEXT.

Sass starts by making a ridiculous request (as ridiculous as Flower and Trevor) YET he clearly knows it's ridiculous thus his 'secondary' request.

WHY did not of the ghosts think about music in the afternoon? I wonder if Sass went for this purely because he's TIRED of Alberta's songs. HE WANTS OTHER OPTIONS.

It's cute that Trevor/Hetty/Flower are all like "Hell yeah, why didn't we think about that.

Trevor's practically like "I should have changed my request."

She doesn't actually agree to that request, but we can assume that she did.

So finally tally. 4 to 3.

Yes - Thor, Isaac, Hetty, Sass

No - Alberta, Flower, Trevor

OMG - she agrees with ALL of the Older Ghosts requests (Almost in order) and disagrees with ALL of the Younger Ghosts requests (almost backwards in oder).

That's so interesting because there's a lot of having the young ones vs the old ones, especially in the year episodes.

Isaac has moved up in the world, sitting on the arm of the couch.

Sam's like "Alright, that's all good. Everyone got a request - I only accepted half of them but I tried."

Then comes Pete.

Pete's like "cough cough".

Sam turns around to ask him what he wants - and he says, "I just wanted to see welcome and Hello."

Really, Pete? You did ALL of that and didn't even think of a request? Seems so weird.

I guess this was to set him up as the chill, good guy ghost, but like... very curious.

Sam just doesn't know how to take Pete right now, but SHE'S FEELING PRETTY GOOD.

I love it. She's had a rough few days, but they are all good now - except Jay.

Jay is like "THE FUCK IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW" - I love that he tries to hit Pete (?) despite knowing that she was looking directly at him and he's in the completely wrong area, and THEN RAISES HIS HAND. "I'm not good. HELP!"

and Sam jokes "Oh, my husband thinks I'm crazy - that's cool 'cause I know that I'm not".

I'm glad that she leaves this happy and feeling good WITH an idea to prove that ghosts exist to Jay, who NEEDS to know.

Thanks for reading :)

Feel free to chat :)

[newagesispage]

                                                                 FEBRUARY     2024 

THE RIB PAGE 

***** 

Among the inductees for the 2023 Library of Congress selections include: Fame, Desperately Seeking Susan, Lady and the Tramp, Home Alone, Terminator 2, 20 feet from Stardom, The Wedding Banquet, Apollo 13, 12 Years a Slave and Love and Basketball. 

***** 

The Supreme Court will hear the Colorado case of Trump on the ballot on Feb. 8. They will also be looking into the responsibility of hospitals in no abortion states. ** And what were those red marks on Trumps hand? Dry skin? Syphillis?** Roger Stone has called for killing the opposition. 

***** 

Mark Knopfler is selling most of his guitars at a London auction house with some of the proceeds going to charity. 

***** 

Joey Fatone and AJ Mclean are going on tour. 

***** 

Willem Dafoe, Charlie Wilson and George Clinton got their stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Garrett Morris will be getting his on Feb. 1. 

***** 

Our Flag means death was cancelled. 

***** 

John Kerry is stepping down as the U.S. Climate envoy. 

***** 

The FDA ruled the Florida government can procure prescription drugs from Canada. This could save taxpayers as much as $183 mil a year. Big Pharma is none too happy. This was rejected in New Hampshire. Many other states are in the application process.  

***** 

A resolution to prevent a partial shutdown of the government was passed for funding until March. The zealots are furious. ** According to a new book, Find me the votes, Lindsey Graham testified that if you told Trump, “that martians came and stole the election, he would probably believe it.” He also gave the Fulton County D.A., Fani Willis a big hug and thanked her for letting him get it out. 

***** 

Hiking with Kevin is back!!!!! Hooray!!!!! 

***** 

The innocence project is looking into the Scott Peterson case claiming new evidence. 

***** 

Paul Thomas Anderson will bring Sean Penn, Regina Hall and Leo DiCaprio together for his next film. 

***** 

Rachel Dratch has a podcast, WooWoo, with ghost stories. 

***** 

There is prejudice everywhere, it does no good to give it back. - Ship of Fools 

***** 

Marilyn Monroe’s home at 12305 W. Helena Dr. Has been declared a historical landmark by the LA cultural Heritage Commision. The actress purchased the home shortly before she died there. 

***** 

Fox News has cancelled My Pillow due to past due bills. 

***** 

Why does Bonnie Hunt not have a talk show anymore?? C’mon!! I miss it!! 

***** 

Jason Momoa and Lisa Bonet are divorced. 

***** 

Taiwan elected William Lai Ching-te for a third term of the Democratic progressive Party. 

***** 

Food Network Star Darnell Ferguson was arrested on strangulation, terrorist threatening, assault, menacing criminal mischief and burglary charges in Kentucky. 

***** 

A U.S. labor agency has accused SpaceX of illegally firing 8 employees.** Sports Illustrated seems to be in a real mess like most of print media. Does corporate everywhere want to fire the writers and use AI?? 

***** 

A 7.5 magnitude earthquake hit Japan. 

***** 

Days alert: Steve Burton is out at Days and back at GH. ** Bring back Jen Lilley. They seem to be pushing Brady and Teresa to be closer again and these actors have no chemistry. ** The cast of Days have been putting out many messages at the loss of Bill Hayes. I miss him already!!** Glad that they R bringing back an old story like the pawn. The characters act like nobody knows but I thought the town knew that John was the pawn? ** But hooray for Johnny and Chanel, let one couple be happy!!  

***** 

Rage against the Machine has broken up again, according to drummer Brad Wilk. 

***** 

Iran attacked Pakistan and brought death. Pakistan retaliated and brought some more death. Is there a place in the world that is not filled with hate right now? 

***** 

The Girl Scout cookies are here!!** Why is Kris Jenner selling Oreos? 

***** 

Fruit Stripe gum is no more. RIP 

***** 

How refreshing to see the economy doing so well. ** Some are upset that Biden launched strikes against Yeman without congressional approval. The Houthi’s have interrupted the supply chain route. ** And why do Trump and friends bitch about Biden at all? According to them, a President has total immunity so what is the problem?? Can’t he do anything he wants?  Why did we never have this problem before? Trump claims a President needs immunity but I don’t think it was a problem until now. ** Chris Christie is out .. Asa Hutchinson is out... Vivek Ramaswami is out... DeSantis is out (much has been made of the leader of Ron’s Superpak with nothing to do but put a puzzle together). DeSantis used a Churchill quote to end his campaign that Churchill never said. ** Scary Clown 45 told the Iowa caucus goers, “You can’t sit home. If you’re sick as a dog, even if you vote and then pass away, it’s worth it. “ People stood in line up to 4 hours in sub zero temps to see him. In attendance were Coach Dan Gable and WWE’s Kane. He later cancelled 3 rallies. ** The comics made much of the pics from the caucus like the Iowa caucus looked like the opposite of Martin Luther King Day. We also must remember that Ted Cruz once won the Iowa Caucus. **32% of Iowa Republicans say that Trump is not fit for office. 14% of Republicans actually voted and 51% picked Trump. DeSantis was a distant second and Haley third. ** Tacopina and his partners in the law firm have parted ways with Trump. 

***** 

Trump took New Hampshire but Haley was not that far off. The whole thing about the DNC fucking up the order of the states and Biden not getting on the ballot was just stupid. It made the Dems look unorganized and petty. No more of that! ** Should we be worried about a second Trump term yet or are we all William Holden in a disaster movie?  Why are we so, “nothing to see hear, everything is fine?”** A recent story broke about the pharmacy in the White House. Apparently, when Trump was in office, the rules for said pharmacy were pretty loose. The word is they didn’t believe in generic drugs and they were handed out like candy. ** Trump was ordered to pay E. Jean Carroll $83 mil.** A judge dismissed the Disney case against Ron DeSantis. 

***** 

Shucked will be a film. 

***** 

Say Something is the tip line provided by Sandy Hook Promise. A recent study in the Journal of Pediatrics looked to study one of the 23 states that provides the service. Of the 18,000 tips submitted from 2019- 2023, 10% referred to a firearm. The tips prevented 38 instances of school violence, and more than 100 planned suicides. There were a thousand mental health interventions. More than 42,000 people have died from gun related injuries in 2023. Firearms are the leading cause of death for children and teens. 

***** 

Jason Reitman is bringing us SNL1975 with Gabriel LaBelle playing Lorne Michaels. The film will also star Cooper Hoffman and Rachel Sennott. 

***** 

Alec Baldwin was indicted again for involuntary manslaughter. 

***** 

Fire ants have gone a bit nuts in Australia. 

***** 

A woman can’t be Vice President.  - Meghan McCain 

***** 

An ancient city was discovered in the Amazon in the 70’s. After 25 years of research there are some findings. Scientists feel this is the oldest settled site in the Amazon. It was built about 2,500 years ago with thousands of platforms and a system of roads and canals. The civilization may have been bigger than the ancient societies in Mexico and Central America. 

***** 

Riley Keough is finishing up Lisa Marie’s memoir and we should see it by October 15. 

***** 

Ban dictionaries? OMG!!! Florida laws have led some schools to take out the dictionaries. 

***** 

Super/Man is a new documentary about Christopher Reeve. 

***** 

Look for a new comic book about The Creature from the Black Lagoon. 

***** 

It’s awards season!!!!!!! 

The Golden Globes sure got some smack. Jo Koy was raked over the coals for his idea of hosting. He kept angrily making excuses and telling the crowd he didn’t write some of the jokes. What?? It is a tough gig and I can sympathize BUT I don’t think he said any terrible things but it was the way he said it. Everybody was talking about Taylor Swift but I didn’t see that she seemed angry, she often looks like that. I was taken aback by the Barbie thing. He was right, as Greta Gerwig pointed out that it was true that they made a movie about a doll with big boobs. I think it was the way he said it. He was so dismissive on a night that was sort of celebratory for women. To have a box office smash all around a woman theme was a breakthrough. He treated it like it could not compare to the ‘important’ movies. He made fun of their work instead of some of the actual celebrity eccentricities like a Gervais might do. I don’t know that it was the big deal the press made of it, just don’t ask him back. My best dressed were Issa Rae, Nicolas Cage, Rosamund Pike, Rachel Brosnahan, Brie Larson, Selena Gomez, Julia Garner, Andra Day, Taylor Swift, Sheryl Lee Ralph, Jim Gaffigan, Matt Rhys, Natasha Lyonne, Natalie Portman, Margot Robbie, Lenny Kravitz, Deacon Phillippe, Kristen Wiig, Meryl Streep, Jodie Foster and Emma Stone. The theme of the night seemed to be slicked back hair. Winners included Ricky Gervais, Davine Joy Randolph, Robert Downey Jr., Ali Wong, Lily Gladstone, Sarah Snook, Matt McFadden, Paul Giamatti and KIERAN CULKIN!! The whole audience stood when they called Culkin’s name which seemed to embarrass him but he so deserved it. There is always one older celeb who acts a bit strange, this year it was Kevin Costner who mumbled his banter and seemed to hate America Ferrera. They were an odd couple. A great couple was Martin Short and Meryl Streep who insist they are just good friends. They were so cute and I want them together in the worst way!! I was thrilled that the powers that be made this award show easy to watch. Award shows are very strict about keeping things on the network that broadcast the event. This show was on multiple sites. I always wonder about that because they don’t have enough ratings to be so selfish. 

***** 

The Critics Choice awards were hosted by Chelsea Handler who did a good job. To me, the best dressed were Jen Aniston, Carey Mulligan, Jodie Foster, Margot Robbie, Colman Domingo, Harvey Guillen, Chelsea Handler, Christina Ricci, Tracee Ellis Ross, Kieran Culkin, Alison Williams, Lenny Kravitz, Ali Wong, Mandy Moore, Rosamund Pike, Quinta Brunson, Bella Ramsey, Kaley Cuoco and Karen Pittman. I was so glad to see Ramon Rodriguez nominated!!!** Kieran Culkin won again!! Other winners include Da’Vine Joy Randolph, Ali Wong, Barbie, Oppenheimer, Succession and American Fiction. When Meryl Streep is nominated for tv, it reminds me of the Nascar Cup drivers that compete in the other races. She didn’t win anyway but it just doesn’t seem quite right. 

***** 

The 75th Emmys was hosted by Anthony Anderson and he did a good job too. His Mother was even better. TV theme songs were front and center. I think Mr. Anderson just really wanted to sing them!  My best dressed were Sheryl Lee Ralph, Rhea Seehorn (who I was really routing for but no win), Ken and Tran Jeong, Alan Ruck, Dominique Fishback, Taylor Tomlinson, Brian Cox, Ali Wong (she nailed it at every show), Niecy Nash, Joy Sunday, Sarah Snook, Briga Heelan, Katherine Hiegel, Jenna Ortega, Donald Glover, Giancarlo Esposito, Jessica Chastain, Mario Bello, Keiran and Jazz, Claire Danes and Riley Keough. Princess Poppy stood out for the Green Goblin look. I was most excited to see Holland Taylor, Marla Gibbs, the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel cast and Carol Burnett. Winners include Kieran again, Quinta Brunson, Niecy Nash-Betts, Sarah Snook, The Daily Show with Trever Noah and Succession. I laughed the most when the It’s Always Sunny cast came on. Give those funny humans some love academy!!!!** Seriously, I liked the winners in any Saul category that won but Better Call Saul was so overdue with 0 for 53. They did set a record though for the most nominated show that never won.** Kieran Culkin may be doing a comedy next. ** Listen to a drag queen.- RuPaul 

***** 

The BAFTA noms were announced and include Barbie, The Color Purple, Poor Things, All of us strangers, Napolean, The Holdovers, Killers of the Flower Moon, Maestro, Oppenheimer and American Fiction. 

***** 

The Oscar noms were also announced with love for Cillian Murphy, Jeffrey Wright, Colman Domingo, Paul Gimatti ,Lily Gladstone, Emma Stone, Robbie Robertson, Jodie Foster, Sterling K. Brown, Robert DeNiro, Robert Downey Jr and Ryan Gosling. Scorsese now has had more nominations (10) than any other living director. People made much about Greta Gerwig and Margot Robbie not getting noms for directing and acting respectively. I get that but for once I agree with Whoopi Goldberg who said, “Not everybody gets a prize!” I mean there are only so many slots.* * The Oscars will broadcast on March 10. 

***** 

Great Kurt Russel stories have come to light, thanks to his children. Kurt beat up Tex Watson, he was there after the Bronco chase and had a plate of food stolen by Ted Bundy! This guy is full of surprises! 

***** 

Turkey has approved Sweden’s NATO membership. 

***** 

Sexual assault news: Vince McMahon and his former head of talent at WWE, John Laurinaitis have been sued for sexual abuse and sex trafficking. ** Caroline Manzo sued Bravo over sexual harassment and assault by Brandi Glanville. 

***** 

Sean Kehoe and Kirra Potts have sued Pauly Shore for assault and battery from a 2022 incident. 

***** 

Javier Bardem and Chloe Sevigny will star in the Lyle and Eric Menendez story. 

***** 

A U.S. Judge has blocked Jetblue from acquiring Spirit Airlines. 

***** 

Marlon Wayans will star in GOAT from Jordan Peele. 

***** 

Why does Bill Maher have such a crush on Elon Musk? He was teasing celebs in a little bit on his show but after Elon, he giggled that he was kidding like he can’t offend the dude.  And, he is still bitching about that Barbie movie. ** And, did a poll really say Maher was the most trusted man in America? 

***** 

People sure seem to be upset about the way the NFL is broadcasting this season. Games that they really want to see are on channels that a lot of people do not have. $$$ just to watch football. ** I will never understand why teams are allowed to run out the clock. They should be actually playing football and still trying to win. It is wrong!!  

***** 

It sounds like we have a new cult to worry about. The University of Cosmic Intelligence of Missouri seems to be run by a convicted child molester from prison. Rashad Jamal has about 200,000 subscribers on YouTube. Six people have turned up missing. 

***** 

Can’t wait for the film, A Real Pain with Keiran Culkin, Jennifer Grey and Jesse Eisenberg. 

***** 

The Superbowl is here with Kansas City and San Fransisco. They are already bombarding us with commercials for their commercials. How did this country come to love this day so much?? 

***** 

Looks like it is time for a movie of the week about Elle King. Word is that she has had several drunken performances lately. It was the recent Dolly Parton tribute at the Opry that went awry. Her performance was filled with cussing for the family audience and struggling to get thru the song. I always respected her music so I hope she works it out. I am sure that Dolly will be on the case. The age old question of how the public will react in the long run will have to play out. Will she stay a rebel and get thru? Will she have a reality show or do rehab? Will she want to do anything? 

***** 

So, they give a woman a late night show and Taylor Tomlinson seems funny enough but they saddle her with a sort of game show where points don’t count and it’s about stupid internet stuff I am always trying to get away from. Just give a woman a show like the big boys. And while you’re at it.. A show for Bonnie Hunt. 

*****  

Will and Harper looks like a great film that shows Will Ferrell and friends journey thru another friends transition. 

***** 

It looks like Alabama loves the death penalty so much they are killing people twice. Nitrogen? Look, if it doesn’t work the first time, perhaps there is a reason to keep them alive. Yikes!! ** The UN has condemned Alabama for the execution. 

***** 

Kate of Wales had abdominal surgery which will sideline her for months. King Charles will also have a minor procedure and be gone for a bit. 

***** 

Pierce Brosnan pled not guilty to trespassing at Yellowstone. 

*****  

In the past 25 years, tobacco use among teens has dropped by 93%. 

***** 

LaPierre is out at the NRA for ‘health reasons.’ Andrew Arulanadam will be interim CEO. Membership has dropped from about 6 mil to 4 mil in the last few years. The corruption trial has started. The NY AG has already reached a settlement with former executive Josh Powell. The Director of Operations has reached a $100,000 agreement with her office and admitted to wrong doing by failing in his fiduciary responsibilities and a misuse of charitable funds. ** There is so much corruption all over the country in little stories throughout the right wing. Florida and Arizona and elsewhere in local papers have stories of illegal financial dealings, sex scandals and broke coffers. There are too many to mention here. Look it up! 

***** 

Westgate Resorts in Kissimmee Fla. canceled a Marjorie Taylor Greene event. The room was supposedly rented for a book signing but the venue found out this was really to be a commemoration of Jan.6. 

***** 

Nobody is sure why the sec. Of defense, Lloyd Austin kept his cancer diagnosis and procedure so hush hush. The President should probably know these things.  

***** 

Hungary’s far right, Our Homeland Party, says it will try to claim a western region of Ukraine that is Transcarpathia, if they lose the war. 

***** 

Trump thinks we need a dome over the country like a Simpsons movie, I guess. ** Trump complains about being in court when he is not required to attend. ** James Carville thinks we should use mockery and ridicule ala Mel Brooks and Mark Twain to get rid of Trump. Carville also asked the question, ”When was the last time Trump saw his dick?” ** Nikki Haley was victim of a swatting incident at her home in South Carolina last month. 

***** 

Aaron Rodgers has proved again what a schmuck he is as he accuses Jimmy Kimmel of being a pedophile. This particular mudslinging seems to be the go- to for dick heads everywhere now. It was reported that he was banned from ESPN but that turned out not to be true. Aaron was back in no time.** Charles Barcley said he would have hit him in the face. **ESPN had to return more than 30 Emmy’s to the television academy after it was discovered the network submitted fake names to get around eligibility rules.* * But.. Why was Kimmel interviewing Depend models and telling them, they would be humiliated the rest of their lives?” This product is crucial for a certain population of this world. I see these elderly and handicapped people everyday. Should they be humiliated too? And why should those models be humiliated? Seems like a real, honest job to me. 

***** 

Robert Kennedy Jr. Threw a party and nobody wanted to come. Martin Sheen, Dionne Warwick, Mike Tyson and Andre Bocelli were among the scheduled guests but none of them had agreed to come or even support his candidacy. The party was said to be a 70th Birthday/ fundraiser and even RFK did not show up. A pac calling themselves Fighting for one America has been blamed. 

***** 

New technology may have told us the identity of DB Cooper. The latest guess seems to be a Crucible steel worker employee named Vince Peterson. 

***** 

Peecycling (urine recycling) is becoming a thing. 

***** 

How to dance in Ohio is coming to Broadway. 

***** 

A nude man was nabbed from a Bass Pro in Alabama after he took a dive into the giant aquarium. 

***** 

Jon Stewart will be back hosting The Daily Show on Mondays. He is also Exec. Producer! 

***** 

The Walton kid actors have mentioned an Earl Hamner stamp. I think we need to look into that! 

***** 

Habitat for Humanity is looking to tear down an old nursing home in East Peoria, Il to build a little village of 5-8 homes for vets. 

***** 

R.I.P. Mickey Cottrell, Glynis Johns, war victims, Tom Johnson, Amanda Davies, Joyce Randolph, Chrissie Slusher- Philips, Norman Jewison, Mary Weiss, Marlena Shaw, Norm Snead, Bud Harrelson, Tanya Berezin, Phill Niblock, Alec Musser, school shooting victims, Bernice Johnson, Harry Johnson, Cindy Morgan, Tisa Farrow, Peter Crombie, April Ferry, John Bush, David Beckwith, Charles Osgood, Adam Harrison, Melanie, Gary Graham, Ruth Ashton Taylor, Harry Connick Sr., Chita Rivera, Dexter Scott King, Bill Hayes, Lynne Marta and David Soul. 

[minorfamilysupremacy]

Butch lesbian khun Jakapan asfgklkfl I Am CACKLING

anon! you return to me and elevate my day as always <3

[bakubabes-tatakae]

Can I have a fluffy request for corpse where it's late and he’s playing with his friends and his girlfriend reader comes to the room pouting bc she wants to cuddle and he somewhat gives in by letting her sit on his lap while he plays and she falls asleep?

Of course you can nonny. 😊❤ I love writing for Corpse. It gives me a boost of serotonin every time. 💖

Sleepy Sessions || Corpse x Reader

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff

Word Count: 822

B/F/N - best friend’s name

After a long day of shopping with your best friend and a wonderful dinner, the only thing left to do was get home and spend some time with your boyfriend. B/F/N walked you upstairs to your apartment like he/she always did, hoping to get the chance to say his/her greeting to Corpse as he/she always liked to do. As the front door opened there was no one there. Usually, he always sat on the couch in the living room, visible as you walked in, but today he was nowhere in sight. 

B/F/N looked over at you with a puzzled look. “Where is he?” 

You looked over at the clock that adorned the living room wall. “It’s late.” Ten fifteen at night, your thoughts turned to the only closed door in the hallway. “I bet he’s online with his friends.”

He/She looked over at you with a smile. “Don’t worry about it then, I’ll see him another time. I’ll let you get some rest. You look exhausted.” 

You wrapped him/her into a hug and said your goodbyes. As you saw the front door close behind him/her you walked toward the door. You knew that Corpse never liked to have anyone in his recording room, but you figured he’d let this one slip, especially for you. 

He didn’t even hear the door open, but you could see the small character running around the ship as he played a round of Among Us. You slowly approached him, but as you got closer it became evident that he couldn’t hear you through his headset. You heard him speaking, his character was a ghost so he must be speaking to his live chat. 

You slowly set your hand on his shoulder, hoping that it wouldn’t jump him too much, but that was proved wrong a second later. His deep voice rang through the small room of the apartment and even jumped you. “Jesus,” He jumped a little and hit the mute button on his headset. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.” You walked closer to him and placed your hand in his hair, ruffling it around a little. “I was hoping you would hear me coming.”

He smiled at you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you toward him in the chair. You placed your hands on the sides of his face and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “How long have you been playing?”

“A couple of hours. About my normal time so far.” His grip tightened on your legs as you watched him. 

“So, how about getting off the game and coming with me to watch a movie and cuddle a little bit?” Your features were hopeful as you heard the soft chuckle coming from him, the pout on your lips almost winning him over. 

“I can’t. I promise these guys that I would play for a little while.” His tone was apologetic and soothing as he tried his hardest to make you feel better. But that’s when the thought popped into his head. He tugged on the waistband of your pants and had you sit down with him. 

You straddled his lap and laid your head on his shoulder, taking in the essence of just being around him. The familiar strong arms that wrapped around you as they reached out toward the keyboard, getting himself back into the game. 

Every once in a while when he muted himself in the discord chat you could feel his lips press against your temple lightly before he spoke to his chat. His voice was soft, careful not to disturb you as he noticed your eyes closing. When he thought that you were asleep he let the corner of his lips pull up into one of the biggest smiles you’d seen on his face in a long time. 

He spoke to his chat softly. “If I don’t talk much for a little bit you guys it’s because I’m trying to keep myself as quiet as I can. Y/n came back not long ago and passed out in my lap.” An intoxicating chuckle left him as he looked over at you again before looking at the game. “I’ll talk to you guys in a minute, looks like a meeting is called.”

The familiar sound of the debate on who the imposter was now filled the headset that he wore and he took in the feelings of home and feelings of pleasure that came from spending time with his friends and having the one that he loved so close to him. And he wouldn’t change that for the world. 

As your exhaustion from the day finally took over your body and your fake sleep became real you couldn’t help but let a small happy sound leave you, pure bliss from the moment, not wanting anything to change anytime soon. 

Taglist : @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @caothicsimptown @screechingtacobananaperson @mrsdexmeow @yashinosakura @viruakarandomthingsilike @leikarinn @thatbandchick39 @targaryens-blog @chimchimsugakookies @deepsleepysheep @to-move-on-means-to-grow grow @punkrainbows @ecwashburn1129 @into-the-end @holosexualunicorn7000 @taliyahvermillion

[fabricated-misslieness]

♡〜 I’d like to request a corpse husband x m reader fic where they playfully flirt in a few conversations or games and corpse accidentally outs reader as his bf. Or just corpse being cute and flirty :) I'd be happy with anything! Thank you <3- corpse anon〜♡

Corpse Husband x male reader

Alright I don’t watch among us gameplay anymore cause I got addicted to genshin so I barely know anything about the mods they use (proximity chat excluded). Bear with me. 

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 1055

Corpse killed someone in specimen, hoping that nobody would walk in on him in the act. Unfortunately - or fortunately - for him, you walked in.

You walked in and paused in shock.

“Walk away, walk away, walk away.” Corpse repeated, coaxing you to run away with him towards the direction you’d come from. As you sat in decontamination, he made a deal with you. “10 kisses and you saw nothing.”

“Hmm, I dunno.” You pretended to think. “I think I get to play with your hair and kiss you 20 times.”

“You’re pushing it. Don’t let me mark you with the kiss of death.”

The doors to decontam opened, revealing Toast and Poki. “What was that about a kiss of death, Corpse?” Toast asked.

“Uhhhhh…”

“Now’s your chance to make a deal, Corpse.” You whispered, even though the other two could still hear you.

“You get to play with my hair and 20 kisses. Now SCATTER!” On cue, the both of you leave in different directions.

That same game, it was down to 4 people. One of them was the impostor, and you knew damn well who it was. The thing is, you’d made a deal. Corpse would deprive you of affection if you broke it. But… how satisfying would it be to break it?

“Hmm, Corpse feels a bit sus.” You let out a laugh.

“And why is that, (y/n)?” Toast saw the whole deal earlier, so he played along. He knew that Corpse was impostor from the situation - and finding a corpse in specimen - but he loved content.

“Well,” You dragged the e out for suspense. “Corpse actually-”

“Don’t you dare, (y/n).” Corpse finally spoke up. “If you say anything, that deal of ours is broken.”

“We both know you can’t resist affection for that long.” He knew you were right, but his pride would not let him admit it. “So what I’m suggesting-”

“You’re suggesting I sweeten the deal.” He sighed in defeat. “I knew it. What are your conditions now?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Meeting time was close to running out. He had to make a deal that you liked before it was over, or he could simply kill you. That sounded much more fun.

“I- uh… um.”

“Time’s ticking, Corpse.”

As the meeting came to an end, you cackled. You were about to expose Corpse out loud when you remembered the lights were off.

This was his plan all along.

He was coming to kill you.

“Corpse is the-” And you saw the familiar animation of being killed.

Corpse was ultimately voted out. It was quite obvious he was impostor now, and the crewmates were thirsty for a win.

“Hey, Corpse, I’m done with tasks!” It was a different match now, both of you were crewmates and both of you were done with tasks. You’d, out of coincidence, met up in cafeteria.

“Yeah, me too.” Corpse laughed at a playful idea he just came up with. “Wanna make out in a corner?”

“Ooh,” You laughed, “lead the way~”

The both of you moved to a corner of cafeteria, where hopefully nobody could see you. Kissy noises were picked up by both of your mics, though your fans didn’t know if they were real or not. However, they did sound all too believable. It was quite a curse that today you’d spontaneously decided not to use a facecam.

It wasn’t long before Jack found the both of you. Why he went to upper cafeteria, you didn’t know. He gasped, “You guys are making out without me?”

“Believe it or not Jack, you’re not the only guy in my love life.” Since the arrival of Jack, your fans have heard the shuffling of clothes. They wondered if you were really kissing.

“Damnit, Corpse.” Jack sighed, turning away from the both of you for a moment. “Hey, wanna become a throuple?”

Corpse watched as you killed people. He was a ghost, killed by your partner.

You lured Sykkuno to specimen, where the two of you had a little talk. You’d been marinating him for the whole match and now was finally the moment where you got to kill him.

“So, Sykkuno. You saw me kill Rae and didn’t say anything. How kind of you.”

“Y-Yes.” He sounded nervous, as he should while being alone in an isolated area of the map with a confirmed impostor.

“Now, usually I would repay you for it by not killing you. Buuut…”

“Yes..?”

“My partner and I are both sus at the moment. We need as many people dead as possible. You understand that, right?”

Sykkuno did a nervous shuffle, “Yea..”

“Trust me, Sykkuno. I did not want to do this.” And with that, you killed him. You ran away from specimen, laughing to yourself.

Corpse laughs, “I love (y/n).” He sighs dreamily. “He’s just so cute.”

He glances at his own chat, which spams ‘Is (y/n) your bf?’

“Yeah, he’s my partner; my love.” He pauses, just realizing that he’d outed the both of you. “Oh, oh no.”

On your stream, the chat was spamming the same thing. They had been since the start of the stream, though now you were curious as to why they spammed: ‘YES’, ‘I KNEW IT’ and pog. Somebody highlighted their message, tagging you in it for extra measure. It read, ‘Corpse just admitted you two are dating.’

“Huh.” You weren’t all that surprised. Either way, being out to the internet wasn’t the worst thing ever. Your fans loved you both, but more than that, they loved your ship. “Yeah, Corpse is my boyfriend.”

“You didn’t have to expose us like that.” You teased.

Corpse shrugs, “Did it matter? They liked it.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Just teasing.” After streaming is usually relaxation time, though you’d taken it for movie time instead.

Corpse sat - with the worst posture, though posture doesn’t equal comfort - between your legs, leaning so weirdly that his head lay on your shoulder.

He ultimately couldn’t resist your affection. Your hands played around with his curls, massaging his scalp every once in a while.

Suddenly, Corpse turns to you and away from the movie. He kisses you, though it’s all to brisk for you. “Let’s get to these 20 kisses, shall we?”

“I thought I broke the deal.”

“Consider it renewed.”

[bailesu]

An Alterrnate Shadowrun - Riddlerun

In the year 2012, with the end of the Long Count, a new age began. There had long been reports of strange things ever since World War II; many believe that the first use of atomic weapons opened the way for the world to change. UFO sightings, Bigfoot, reports of Atlantis, planes and ships vanishing in the Bermuda Triangle. People were increasingly primed for something undeniably supernatural to happen.

On December 21, 2012, when the year died (the real year, not the clumsy system invented by someone who couldn't even set his start date correctly), the old age died with it. The first riddles appeared, carved into monuments, and as the sun moved across the earth from just east of Greenwich to just west of it, ancient monuments appeared, mysterious artifacts of a now forgotten age. What would turn out to have been the last age of magic. Ancient ruins full of danger, magic, strange creatures, and riddles.

Those who unlocked riddles learned magical secrets and became known as Riddlemasters. The secrets could not be taught, but the riddles could be; some had the knack and others did not and formal intelligence was not always the key. Riddlemasters were envied by some, loved by others, and heavily sought out by corporations who wanted to employ them.

But this was not the only change. It was a time of the fall of empires, for the magic of the ancient states, states forgotten by even the wisest historian, from a time before the last ice age had scourged away all evidence, that magic broke the great loyalties of the modern age. Anything much bigger than Belgium fell apart into pieces, able to hold only in loose alliances, and in some places, people found and answered the riddles and became Lord of the Land, with a mystic tie to the land; some Lords made themselves kings and others hid and acted as secret guardians.

With nation-states shattered, the great corporations, who were not tied to the land, flourished and became the real great powers, crossing the shrunken national boundaries. Freed from restraint, these corporations drove a great increase of technology, the Cyber-Age. Those who could not unlock Riddles turned to machines for power. Many of those ended up indebted to the corporations, who made wars on each other that no country could restrain in their shriveled state, save in countries with a Lord of the Land, where Lords and corporate power clashed.

But all of this is matched by a problem for everyone - the angry dead. Those who die by violence, starvation, and other ways that leave them angry or despairing at death rise again as ghosts whenever the sun sets. In areas with a Lord, the dead can be controlled, but in lands without one, the dead stalk the night, trying to get even or bringing fear and despair. Some Riddlemasters also possess necromantic secrets to master them.

There are whispers of another menace - shapeshifters, perhaps dwelling in the ocean, who walk among us, serving some secret, unknown master. They may or may not exist, for it is well known that some Riddlemasters and every Lord of the Land can achieve limited shapeshifting, able to become an animal of each of the three kingdoms (air, water, and land) and a plant. Others can achieve variation of human form. But these shifters can pass as anyone. If they even exist. They may well be the masters of the UFOs.

The UFOs definitely exist - there is too much evidence. But their technology is far beyond ours. They seem only to observe and at times, carry people off and experiment on them, then return them. They have a definite interest in the riddles. What they really want remains unknown and perhaps unknowable.

In the year 2042, young people remember no time before the change; their elders still remember the old world but know they must live in the world they have now. Who will rule in this age is yet unclear. The age of Riddles has begun.

(This is a fusion of the Riddlemaster of Hed, Cyberpunk tropes and late 20th century paranormal silliiness, written for an RPG.net thread.)

[bitch-im-your-biggest-nightmare]

Parents fucking suck bro. [Corpse Husband & Reader]

Warnings: Arguments, bad parents, swearing, crying Summary: Y/N loves playing with Among Us with the others, even if she's the youngest among them. While shes playing with them, her parents walk in and are not happy with the fact she’s playing with them. There's a big argument and shit goes down but Corpse is there to comfort Y/N. Tag list:  @save-the-sky @alilshit @whatifwedo @hughugh20 @fleurmoon @bi-andready-tocry @itsminniekat @yoongi-holland @loraleiix @hacker-ghost @fanworrior @marvelous-musicals @annshit @unknown-and-invisible @letsloveimagines @hairbrush-anon @babyhoneystvles 

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

“Hey guys” Y/N greeted happily as they entered the lobby in Among Us. They have been playing Among Us with Felix, Sean, Rae, Toast, Sykkuno, Charlie, and Corpse for a while now. Y/N was 18 and still living at home, making money off of YouTube. They’re parents were strict and wanted them to have a “real job” like being a doctor. Y/N knew their parents were toxic and would disapprove of their job choice, so they keep it a secret.  

“hey Y/N” 

“Hello” 

“hii” 

“Whats up Y/N” 

Everyone began to greet them, which made them smile. Y/N was filming the gameplay of this for a new video on their channel. Everyone seemed to love when they played Among Us, so they always played it- doing commentary and music on the side. “How you guys doing on this..” they looked out the window of their darkened bedroom, seeing heavy rain pouring down from the dark clouds in the sky. “Pretty damn depressing day where i'm at, holy shit.”

There was a couple of laughs and chuckles, and everyone began to state what the weather was like where they were. There was a lot of “Its nice out where am”s. It rains a fuck ton where Y/N lives, especially during spring. But they loved it, rain was their favorite. 

“Alrriiight is everyone here?” Toast asked.

“Nope, Corpse is joining.” Sean announced, which caused sounds of happiness. Corpse was everyone's favorite, it was that damn voice. Corpse was Y/Ns bestie, they always had each other backs. There was many people who shipped them, but they both only wanted to be friends. 

A few seconds after Sean spoke, Corpse joined. “Hey guys.” Corpse said, he sounded tired. But that was common for him, he told you about his insomnia. He probably didn’t get any sleep last night.

“Alright lets start the game.” Sean said, clicking to begin the game. Y/N smiled at the big letters reading “IMPOSTER” at the top of their screen. They’re a really good imposter- as they were told. They first went to blend in with crewmates, going to walk around a bit. While roaming around, they went into electrical to fake a task. Y/N saw this as the perfect chance to get their first kill in. So, they snuck up and killed him, then they vented to escape. 

After a minute, a dead body was reported and they were now at an emergency meeting. 

“Where was the body?” Toast asked. 

“I found the body iiin.. electrical.” Rae replied, “Who was in there last?”

“I did see Y/N walking towards electrical.” Felix said, “That is where the body was found.” 

“Yeah, but did go into electrical?” Y/N said, “I was heading to reactor, I had a task there.” 

“Not the best alibi.” Sean said, “But I’ll take it.” 

“Could be Rea, but.. wait no.” Sykkuno said. 

“How could it be me if I reported the body?” Rae chuckled. 

“Yeah I know I just realized.” Sykkuno replied. 

“So... skip vote?” Corpse said. 

“I’m still sus on Y/N.” Felix said while voting for Y/N. 

“Vote Aoc shes kinda sus.” Y/N said, voting for Rae.

“Wha- Y/N!” Rae said. 

“Sus.” Y/N said plainly. 

“Ok yeah i'm skipping this vote.” Toast said, skipping the vote. 

Most people skipped the vote, so no one was out. Y/N continued to play the game how she would, until she killed someone and had to quickly vent because someone just walked by. That made them shriek, “oh sugar honey ICED tEA-” they laughed, “That was a close one, hah.” Well seemed they were being too loud because their mother walked in. 

“Why are you being so loud?” She asked, just as an emergency meeting started. 

“Oh shit- my moms here hold on.” Y/N said, going to mute but misclicking, so now they were all going to hear this. “I’m just playing Among Us.” 

“Shouldn’t you be looking for a job instead of playing stupid video games?” Mom said, stepping into the room. 

“Oh- uhm... I do YouTube as a job. I make money of it.” Y/N replied quietly, knowing what was to come next.

‘whAT?! YouTube is not a fucking job Y/N!! Me and your father told you many many times that we want you to be a doctor!” Mom yelled. Y/Ns sister got into a great college because of her smarts and intelligence, shes going to be a surgeon one day. But that just wasn’t Y/N, they wanted to make content for the people on the internet. And so far, it was working pretty damn well.

Y/N sighed, “Oh my god mom shut up! I hate all that doctor college bullshit. Im making enough money on here!”

“Are you delusional?! Why can’t you be more like your sister, shes so successful!” Mom yelled, she was in disbelief. She wanted to have the perfect children, but she only got one. 

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS COMPARE ME TO HER?!?” Y/N screamed, beginning to cry. “What does it fucking matter?!” 

“You are such a fucking disappointment. Get off that damn game!” Mom said, running over to pull Y/N away. But Y/N pushed her back. 

“Bro FUCK off! its my goddamn business, Im a fucking adult now, leave my shit alone!” Y/N screamed through the tears. 

“I am your mother! I know best! Now get off that fuckin- OW!” Y/N slapped their mother straight across the face, pushing her out of their room and closing the door, locking it. They sat back down and looked at her screen. 

“Oh fuck. You heard all of that.” Y/n choked a little, “Shit.”

This is where Corpse came in, breaking the silence and shock between everyone. They listened to the whole thing, messaging each other in the chat what to do. “Hey, your moms an asshat.” 

Y/N flinched, hearing banging on her door and screaming. “And a fucking psychopath!” they sunk down a bit, putting their hands on their forehead and breathing heavily. “Shes gonna kill me!” 

“Hey hey hey, its alright Y/N. Don’t let her get to you, she doesn’t know what shes saying.” Rae said. 

“I personally think you have great content.” Toast said, “I don’t think i would trust you as a doctor.” 

“hey don’t listen to her Y/N, we’re always here for you.” Corpse said, “DM me and we can talk about it more, ok?” 

Y/N sniffled, “Ok.” Then they muted, taking their phone out to DM Corpse. 

T/N: Hey 

Corpse_Husband: Hey are you doing alright?

T/N: No

T/N: Do you think im a disappointment? Is YouTube really worth it?

Corpse_Husband: Disappointment? no. The only disappointment is that sad excuse of a mother you have. And YouTube? hell yeah its worth it. I started youtube off when I was younger and had a blast. If you’re having fun and making bank keep doing it! You’re 18, your mother doesn’t control you anymore. 

Corpse_Husband: Pewdiepie is a subscriber to your channel

Corpse_Husband: That should be enough motivation

T/N: you have weird ways of making me happy :’) 

Corpse_Husband: I do have facts. 

Corpse_Husband: But seriously, please dont have a panic attack, those suck. But do you wanna play more Among Us? It might cheer you up :D 

T/N: Yeah yeah yeah thanks. And sure, I’ll play more among us. Thanks Corpse, your the best best friend 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🌹🌹🥀

Corpse_Husband: 🥺

~The End~ 

Oh my god this ones terrible. I might rewrite it in the future. 

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Heard you’re looking for more writing requests. And that means that I can share more ideas. So... hai! o/

Hermitcraft Among Us, based on the Grian video where he kept getting impostor, and getting voted out immediately, then Scar won without him.

Everyone knows Scar is a wild card impostor, you know you’d only get one or two kills out of him before he was caught. Grian groans, knowing they were probably going to lose the game. But as he watches Scar taking revenge for his fallen comrade, he realizes he was very, very wrong.

*vibrates intensely* GRIAN AND SCAR IMPOSTER DUO!!

Seriously though thank you. I really like this one and I hope you do too!

Summary: Grian and Scar are the imposters. After a stupid mistake early on, Grian is ejected. He is resigned to their loss, knowing the chances of Scar being able to get to the end of the game without him are next to none. But he soon realises that Scar can be very, VERY dangerous when he wants to be.

…

  The first kill was supposed to be easy. And for a single precious minute, it was perfect. Grian walked into navigation and killed Beans with no problems whatsoever, before jumping into the vent. 

  However, it seemed he had chosen the wrong time and place to pop out; when he did, he found himself face to face with Bdubs, Skizzleman and Etho, who had just exited cafeteria and come into weapons. 

  For a second, the two parties just stared at each other.

  Then Skizzleman let out a screech and he and Bdubs dashed back into cafeteria, leaving Etho in the room with Grian to watch him.

  Grian didn’t bother to follow them. There was no point and he knew it.

  Sure enough, at the inevitable emergency meeting, Bdubs and Skizzleman immediately started talking excitedly at the same time about what they had seen. 

  “Whoa, whoa, guys!” interrupted Tango. “Calm down and breathe! What happened?”

  “Grian vented,” Skizzleman panted, clearly out of breath. “We saw him. Three of us saw him.”

  “Bdubs, Skizz, and I just came out of cafeteria into weapons and saw him pop his head out of the vent,” Etho explained more coherently. “He must’ve killed Ren or Beans somewhere and vented, looking for another victim, but we caught him.” 

  All eyes turned to Grian. 

  Grian sighed, knowing that they were all expecting him to deny it. But with THREE eye-witnesses, it would be foolish to make up a story. The only way to protect his partner now was to confess. “It’s true. I killed Beans in navigation and vented out. Poor timing on my part.” 

  “No kidding!” Bdubs snorted. “That was pathetic, Grian. You got caught red-handed!”

  “I know,” Grian growled. 

  “What, you’re not even gonna try to deny it?” Tango asked incredulously.

  “Look, if it was only two of them who saw me, I would’ve at least tried to claim they’re both the imposters and trying to frame me, but THREE witnesses? There’s no way I would’ve gotten away with that.” 

  Grian despondently voted for himself and didn’t put up a fight as he was taken to the airlock after the unanimous vote. 

  Waking up back on the ship as a ghost, he sighed heavily and watched Scar run around the ship. 

  That’s it, he thought. We’re gonna lose. There’s no way Scar can kill FIVE people all by himself without getting caught.

  He set off the reactor from the afterlife and watched everyone converge to fix it. After it had been repaired and everyone else had left, Scar hung behind in reactor and killed Tango as the latter was attempting Simon Says, before running out as if nothing had happened.

  They’re gonna know he was the last one out, Grian groaned in his head. Oh, this is the WORST.

  He followed Scar down through lower engine, past electrical, and out the other side of storage. Scar stood next to Etho at the download screen in communications, before killing him too and immediately hitting the report button.

  Grian gasped. He’s self-reporting! That’s RISKY, considering everyone always gets sus of him when he reports, whether he’s imposter or not!

  “I found Etho in communications,” Scar reported.

  “Oh, and it looks like Tango’s down too,” added Bdubs. “Where did you say Etho is, Scar?”

  “Communications. Next to the download thingy.”

  “Did you see anyone around?” inquired Impulse.

  Scar shook his head. “I didn’t see anyone else after we all left reactor.” 

  “I went off on my own too,” Skizzleman admitted. “I only saw Impulse briefly as I passed admin, but that was a while ago.”

  “Can anyone vouch for anyone?” asked Impulse.

  Everyone shook their heads. 

  “Well, wonderful,” Impulse sighed. “I guess we can’t vote anyone this round.”

  Skizzleman patted his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, there’s six of us left. The last imposter still has to kill four of us before they win.”

  Grian sighed with relief as the meeting ended with everyone voting to skip. He wasn’t sure how Scar had managed to get through another meeting without being labelled sus, but Grian certainly wasn’t going to complain.

  “Hey, Skizzle!” Scar called, trotting to catch up with the blue crewmate, who was heading towards medbay. “What task have you got now?” 

  “I gotta eat fruit,” said Skizzleman, as if that explained everything.

  Scar frowned. “What?”

  “Simon Says,” Skizzleman explained with a grin. “If I say “make sure to eat fruit” while I’m doing the task, it helps me make fewer mistakes.”

  “Oh, I see! Very clever. You mind if I come with? I gotta count to ten.”

  “Sure thing!”

  Grian followed the two over to reactor, knowing what was coming. Sure enough, Scar approached Skizzleman while he was in the middle of Simon Says.

  “This is for Grian,” he said coldly, before shooting Skizzleman in the back. 

  Grian stared at Scar as the latter hurriedly left reactor. He was starting to get the feeling that Scar might actually be able to pull this off. 

  But he didn’t want to get too ahead of himself yet. Scar was only halfway through; he still had to kill three more people. Around this point, Scar’s luck usually ran out. 

  Just as Grian started to sabotage something to help out, the body was reported by Pungence. 

  “Self-report,” Scar declared immediately.

  Grian hid his face in his hands. NO, Scar!

  But to his surprise, nobody immediately turned on his partner. 

  “Well, Bdubs and I were together,” Impulse said. “So it must be either Pungence or Scar.”

  “Pungence,” said Scar.

  “Scar,” said Pungence at the same time.

  “We can’t really afford to not vote someone out, here,” Bdubs said, glancing at Impulse. “I’m voting Scar.”

  Impulse, who had just locked in his own vote, blanched. “Oh, I voted for Pungence.”

  “Oh no!”

  Sure enough, as the votes were revealed, both Scar and Pungence had two votes each. 

  Grian was absolutely dumbfounded. He had been sure that that was the end for Scar, but somehow, his partner had survived. 

  He really might actually do it…!

  “I’m gonna do my task in security,” declared Pungence. “Someone come watch me.”

  “I will,” said Bdubs immediately. 

  After the meeting, Grian followed Scar to the right, watching him as he ran all the way from weapons, down to shields, then across to electrical, clearly looking for a victim. 

  “Two more kills,” murmured Grian, despite knowing Scar couldn’t hear him. “Just two more. Come on.”

�� Scar entered security and found Bdubs on the monitors. He turned as Scar came in. “Scar! Don’t kill me!”

  Scar drew his gun.

  A real look of terror appeared on Bdubs’s face as he backed away from Scar as far as he could go. 

  An identical evil smile spread over Grian’s and Scar’s faces as the latter towered over Bdubs.

  “Scar, p-please…!” Bdubs’s eyes were wide with fear. “Please, I-!”

  BANG!

  Grian cheered as Bdubs’s body hit the ground. “Scar! You absolute legend! One more kill and we win!”

  Realising he needed to help keep the remaining crewmembers away from Bdubs’s body, he shut the door to security and stayed there, intending to keep watch. He didn’t need to follow Scar around this time.

  After a few minutes, he glanced up and found both Impulse and Scar on their way down from medbay. He realised that Scar had likely vented into medbay and was now discreetly leading a witness to the body as an alibi.

  So he quickly reopened the doors.

  Impulse walked into security, with Scar right behind him. The two yelped simultaneously at the sight of the body.

  Grian floated over to join the report meeting that Impulse had quickly called. 

  “Bdubs is dead in security,” reported Impulse. “Scar and I found him.” 

  “Impulse,” said Scar slowly, giving the crewmate in question a pointed look. “Didn’t we hear Pungence say he was going to do his task in security?”

  Impulse stared back at him in shock. “Oh… we DID!”

  “YES!” Grian screeched, hardly daring to hope. 

  “No, no, I left security ages ago,” Pungence quickly said. “I was down in communications.”

  Impulse frowned at him. “I didn’t see you that whole time, though. You could have vented to electrical or even just left normally; we don’t know how old the kill is.”

  “What about Scar?” demanded Pungence. “How long were you two together?”

  “A few minutes. Scar watched me scan in medbay, then he stood by me in cafeteria while I finished wires and then we went down to security to do Scar’s last task. He could’ve easily killed me several times but he didn’t.”

  “Okay, first of all, he could have been on cooldown,” Pungence pointed out. “And second, “he could have killed me but he didn’t” means nothing to Scar! He’s a wild card; he kills whenever he feels like it.”

  “Yeah, but even Scar would realise that one more kill would end the game,” argued Impulse. “Why would he purposefully lead me to a body he killed when he could just take me to a random spot on the ship and kill me with no witnesses?”

  Grian couldn’t believe the genius move that Scar was pulling off. Kill in security, “find” the body with a witness, then let Impulse’s penchant for third-impostering take over. Scar didn’t even need to say anything in this meeting; Impulse was doing all the work for him.

  And like Impulse had pointed out, Scar could have just stuck with Impulse until his cooldown was over and then killed him. It would have yielded the same result, and been a lot less risky for him as well. But he hadn’t done that. Why? The answer was clear to Grian:

  Scar wanted the satisfaction of stabbing Impulse in the back. 

  Clearly, Pungence couldn’t believe what he was hearing either. “Impulse, please don’t let him get away with this. He’s playing you for a fool.”

  “I don’t think so,” Impulse retorted. “Scar’s a lot of things but he’s not cunning. He wouldn’t be able to come up with a plan this smart. No offense, Scar.”

  Scar shrugged. “None taken. I totally agree.”

  “Of course you do,” Pungence sighed. “Impulse, please, you have to believe me or we’re gonna lose.”

  “It isn’t me!” Scar protested. “C’mon, Impulse, you know it’s not me. You said so yourself: it wouldn’t make any sense.”

  Grian held his breath as Impulse glanced from Scar to Pungence.

  Finally, he sighed. “You’re right; it wouldn’t. I’m voting Pungence.”

  As Impulse locked in his vote, Grian let out a long, triumphant whoop. “Scar, you LEGEND! You’re absolutely brilliant!” 

  Pungence buried his face in his hands as the votes were revealed. “Nooo…” 

  A grin appeared on Scar’s face as the airlock slowly closed behind Pungence. “Good job, Impulse. You made the right decision.” 

  Impulse registered the expression on his face and visibly sagged. “I-I didn’t, did I?”

  Grian flew around triumphantly as Scar drew his gun. 

  “For me, you absolutely did.”

[saphirered]

Something to tug at the heartstrings: How about a sequel to Ghost, wherein the reader loses Lucien a second time but, eventually, finally, finds happily ever after with Kingsley? A sorta soulmate AU, where the reader is just meant to be with this soul. Thank you! 💜

Okay, this one turned out a loooooot longer than I intended but I'm happy with the way it turned out. Definitely something to pull on your heartstrings with a good amount of angst and fluff. Hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting! 😘

-

You knew it was over, the end had come when even across the worlds you felt like a final thread within you had snapped yet you felt nothing, just empty. You knew that moment would come at one point and while you hoped things could have been different… No, things could never have ended differently. Even then, you already knew there was a madness, greed and hunger for power within Lucien he could never escape. Never would it be enough. He’d stop at nothing and would sacrifice everything if that meant he’d achieve his goals. He was willing to do it before, he had done so before and would do it again a thousand times over.

Lucien had been angry, upset, trying to convince you this is not where it had to end between you two. That you could follow him along this path, forever, no longer bound by a fate not your own, a life in the hands of another. You could truly have been free. You could have been like gods among the ants left at the mercy of the whims of circumstance. That’s what he promised you. He promised you greatness, the world, a future of your own making, power, riches, you could have named your price and he’d offered it to you. Lucien had told you no price would be too steep for him but you had found one.

You’d asked him, once faced with the choice, would he choose you or would he risk it all in the pursuit of this damned purpose of his? Lucien didn’t have an immediate answer. Those moments of silence before his honeyed words were enough for you to know the real answer and deflecting, dancing around the truth like he had, all of it was just a dead give away. Nevertheless he tried to keep you at his side because if you know one thing, Lucien is a selfish man and he’d do anything and everything in his power to keep you at his side unless you’d leave of your own volition.

Lavish gifts, romantic gestures, luxuries he’d bestow upon no other, no expense was too great, no time wasted and no love spared. Lucien really went all out to show you just how much you mean to him, how much he needs you, needs you at his side. But nothing could make up for the fact that in the end he wasn’t sure wether he’d choose you or power when faced with the ultimatum. He knew that if he asked you, you’d give your life for him but he could not return the favour and his love knew boundaries set by his idealistic purpose. The more time you spent with him, the clearer that became.

When you became more reserved, coming to terms with this truth that did not mean you distanced yourself from Lucien. You still loved him and that wouldn’t change but like before, you refused to be part of his own demise. You’d not stand idly and watch as he went on a suicide mission with some perverted shadow of what was once living. You don’t know whether or not it was something Lucien had planned, if it was a spur of the moment, if he even was aware he was doing it or the Eyes of Nine reaching out to you but you’d seen the visions, you started waking up being faced with the horrors to a red eye marked on your skin, and another, and another.

And the more you were shown, the clearer it became. You could not be part of this. You’d not resign yourself to this fate and watch the others fall for the whims of one man and his own stupid greed, watch the man you loved fall to his own selfish hunger for power. You’d spare yourself the heartbreak of having your lover be torn away from you yet again. So you left. You did what you couldn’t do before; said your goodbyes and left. If this is truly what Lucien wanted then you would not stand in his way. You’d not be an obstacle but you’d also not be watching from the sidelines waiting for a side to win. You’d not interfere because after all this is the man you’d sacrifice the world for but you’d not stand by and watch him sacrifice you for his own visions. Should he find his way back to you you’d embrace him with open arms. Should he not, you’ll have departed on your own terms and made peace with that. You’d have said your goodbyes.

So when that final thread snapped, the eyes disappeared and a quietness hit you, like all sound had been pulled from the world but the wind and the waves you knew it was over. Lucien was dead and gone and Lucien would not be returning this time around. The world was spared and had gone back into tune. The Mighty Nein had returned and truly became the unsung heroes of Exandria. They did what you could never. They’d risked it all for the people they loved and they succeeded. And while your heart warmed at the thought of that love you also felt an emptiness, an emptiness you’d experienced once before when Lucien was first taken from you.

—————

Even now, that feeling of emptiness, a part of you missing still lingered. It’s as if when Lucien finally passed he took a part of you with him and your life would never be as it was before. You still wouldn’t change a thing. You had found purpose not only in your skills but a sense of belonging among the Revelry. Sure they were a rowdy bunch but something about Darktow and it’s people reminded you of the early days of the Tombtakers. Call it sentimental. But you made yourself useful, proved your usefulness, resourcefulness and connections across Wildemount and beyond to benefit you and ended up with a ship of your own, a respected Captain among Darktow with the favour of the Plank King himself. Though the latter is mainly to do with the copious amount of gold you’ve brought him. You and your crew alone have given the man a private fortune that must have made him richer than the kings of the mainland. Not that you cared. Gold did little to fill that void left in your heart. You had no use for it save for the upkeep of your ship, the payment of your crew and the copious amounts of booze and gambling you and your crew partook in simply because you could.

Life in Darktow and as a member of the Revelry is anything but uneventful but that’s exactly what you need to keep you on your toes. The day you resign yourself to a quiet and restful life is the day you die. You’d been in port for a week and a half and things have been going smoothly. Too smoothly in your opinion because if you know anything it is the gods like messing with your threads of fate a little too much. Perhaps your next voyage will be all storms, or you’ll get stranded somewhere? Maybe the Concord will be on the hunt for you again? A naval battle or a few could be fun? What will the gods throw at you next?

Maybe you shouldn’t have tempted the gods like so because the next thing you see is a tiefling of lavender skin, intricate tattoos all over, and a charming grin on his face attempt to barter with one of your deckhands for something. Your stomach drops, shivers running down your spine and conflicting emotions of joy and pain rush through you all at once. Your bosun shakes your shoulder after seeing you so shellshocked and checks in to see if you’re alright. You shake it off and take a minute to breathe studying the interaction with the tiefling.

Right from the get go you know it’s not Lucien. It couldn’t be and wouldn’t be. Yet it’s also not Mollymauk. However brief your knowing him may have been, you knew well enough this was also not the circus man you’d grown to admire. So who is this? Curious by nature and unrestrained, unbound by the knowledge you probably shouldn’t against all better judgement, you step over to the gangplank on the other end of which your deckhand and the tiefling are conversing. You stand there, crossed arms and just watch. Neither seem to notice you as of now but you’re sure they will if you stay long enough.

As Kingsley goes on, trying to convince this deckhand he just needs to speak to the captain for a brief moment because the Plank King has told him he is to deliver an urgent message, all lies of course, he catches the glimpse of someone that seems familiar to him in some way. He hasn’t ever encountered this person standing at the top of the gangplank before. This isn’t a face he’d forget. He’s never one to forget a pretty face and well, this one’s the prettiest of them all. Okay, he may have seen people as pretty before, so he’ll blame it on attraction then because the moment his eyes fall upon this figure the world just fades for an instant, the words of the deckhand falling on deaf ears but he’s good enough to not let it be noticed.

“You wish to see the captain? Well here I am.” Finally you make your way down the gangplank with a walk that expresses authority and grace but there’s something Kingsley can’t quite put his finger on. You turn to the deckhand.

“I’ll deal with this. Back to work.” The deckhand with a nod to you and not so much as a goodbye to him scurries up the gangplank and goes back to whatever task Kingsley had kept him from.

“My my, captain, I must say your ship is magnificent…” The tiefling tries to sweet talk but the expression you give him shows you’re not buying it. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying. He’ll just have to up his charm a little. Kingsley wants a ship and this is a great ship. He meant that part.

“Cut the crap and get to the point. I don’t have all day.” You give the man a wink for some reason feeling yourself slip into that back and forth game of wit and charm you’d had with Lucien. Gods be damned for pulling on those strings again, your heartstrings no less. And damn your own weakness for not being able to resist that charming grin of this man.

“Perhaps this is a conversation better had in private?” Kingsley, as promised picks it up a notch and walks up the gangplank like he already owned the ship but gestures for you to lead the way. Deciding to humour him and yourself you lead the way to your cabin, the door falling shut behind you two.

—————

The events that followed were the beginning of the end and the more time you spent with this man, this new version of the face you’d been so familiar with, the more you felt that emptiness begin to fade. At first Kingsley had tried to persuade you to go to the Plank King to give himself the opportunity to get the ship’s papers and convince the crew that you’d done something terrible and face judgement while he’d offer to vouch for the crew to be spared if they accepted him as captain. When that didn’t work he tried to coax you in sharing a drink with him, one he had spiked with a strong sedative so he could leave you at the docks and sail away. When that didn’t work he tried to sleep with you. Maybe a few days or weeks in your company wouldn’t be so bad. Have you seen you? He could spent hours just getting lost in your eyes.

But he didn’t manage to charm his way into your bed either. You’d caught him on all accounts, somehow figured out all his attempts and called them out exactly how he planned them. It’s like you could read his mind, or at the very least calculate his every move before he’d even done so. He isn’t anything if not persistent. He wanted your ship and he’d work for it. What he didn’t expect was the need to literally work for it when you offered him a job as a second mate since the last one had fallen to the jaws of a dragon turtle.

Over the weeks on your ship you’d eased him into fact that you had a very intimate relationship with Lucien and had met Mollymauk. You knew who he used to be, you knew his story up until a certain point. In turn Kingsley filled in the gaps, though even his knowledge felt more like second hand too. While you both tried keeping your distance when it came to the undeniable attraction between the two of you it was difficult. That pull remained, be it from your own memories of the past, the ghosts that still plagued you sometimes, or his phantom visions and feelings from a life he never lived himself.

You had to come to terms with it but the more you got to know Kingsley and the more he got to know you, why should you keep fighting something you both felt? Why put up walls, put in time and effort in something so… so stupid? So you had a good and honest talk. Set some boundaries and drew a line. You’d see where this would take you and won’t put any pressure or expectations on the other but you certainly wouldn’t spent a moment more trying to fight this stupid pull between the two of you. Those days were over.

The threads of fate could be a twisted thing but at times could be so in a humorous way. Kingsley had ended up with the ship he wanted after all. Not be leaving you stranded, poisoning or even killing you. Instead his secret message from the Plank King did come. Though his had been a lie when you first met, this one wasn’t. With the discourse on the high seas, the tensions between Xhorhas and the Empire on the low and the Concord’s opportunity to look towards the Revelry, you were needed as more than just a captain in a fleet. You’d be a commander instead and your captaincy would have to move to someone else so who else could you have handed it to? Both of you had been laughing like idiots when you finalised the deal and signed over the deed of the ship to Kingsley Tealeaf.

Despite this new promotion you’d still find yourself back on your old ship with Kingsley going on adventures of your own. He made a good captain save for the mornings he’d be preoccupied and slacking leaving his first mate to take over his duties. Coincidentally those were the days you’d spend on the ship and of course the captain could not let you sleep among the crew. No, you deserved a place more suitable of your station; the captain’s cabin. Part of that arrangement neglected to mention to the others was that the captain would be sharing his cabin with you.

So you’d wake up in each other’s arms like plenty of times before, fingers brushing through your hair, gently dancing over your shoulder and arm up and down as the light bleeds through the curtains signalling the afternoon’s approach. And as per usual with a groan, you’d shift and readjust yourself into a more comfortable position and allow your sleeping limbs to wake. A kiss would be pressed to your cheek, forehead, crown, shoulder, neck, wherever was most convenient pulling you from the final clutches of sleep and easing you into the day.

These moments would be spent embracing the quiet sounds of the waves rocking the ship gently and the shanties of the working crew, until one of you decided to break that silence.

“You are the most truthful and up front person I’ve come across in a long time.” Kingsley speaks as he presses a kiss to the top of your head as you wrap your arms a little tighter around him. You look up to him with an amused half smile, final hints of exhaustion still remaining on your features.

“I am a liar, a thief and a killer. I live a life of piracy and plague the seas.” You deadpan and earn a ‘you know what I mean’ look from the tiefling as you flick his chin. He catches your hand before you can do it again and instead kisses your knuckles, holding on tightly with an amused grin as you try to retaliate.

“And yet you stand out among the masses like a beacon. I could be faced with the promises of the world and my eye would still fall to you. I don’t pretend to understand why or how but it’s true.” Kingsley might have given the words a bit more flare but they’re true no less. He doesn’t understand why but the two of you, or whatever version of him, seem to be entwined wherever you go always bound to end up meeting over and over again like you can’t escape. It’s not like he minds because the two of you meeting back up in unpredictable spaces and situations has been rather enjoyable. Especially once you’d gotten a moment to yourselves.

“Are you trying to charm me, captain Tealeaf?” You tilt your head slightly giving him the same look you’d done when you first met; innocent disbelief.

“I don’t know. Is it working? Because if so, I will lie and say it’s intentional.” At this comment you sit up, pulling yourself free and leaning on your elbow to allow your lips to meet in a sweet but quickly heated kiss. There’s a knock at the door and you pull away making move to get out of bed but Kingsley holds you there. He’s got no intention of leaving this bed just yet and neither are you if he can persuade you to stay. Let the outside world stay that; outside.

“You’re a good man, Kingsley.” You stroke his cheek tracing along the peacock feathers crawling up his neck and jaw. Kingsley raises an eyebrow but when you see that half grin crawl up his face you know you might just have said the wrong thing. Not bad but more akin to provoking the devil.

“I am a liar, a thief and a killer. I live a life of piracy and plague the seas.” Your own words are turned against you and you scoff. The knocking on the door doesn’t go away and Kingsley rolls his eyes childishly clearly not wanting to be bothered by the whines and responsibilities of the day just yet.

“Yes. Yes. I head the first time.” He shouts annoyed with the interruption and the knocking stops but instead of making any move of getting up he pulls you into his lap. A surprised giggle escapes your lips as playful kisses are peppered all over your shoulders and neck.

“Did you have to deal with their constant antics or could they figuring things out themselves?” Kingsley asks between kisses.

“Always.” You pull yourself out of Kingsley’s grasp and get off the bed reaching for a shirt and pulling it over your head earning a groan of disappointment from the man. You shake your head in amusement.

“I suggest you get dressed before you have a mutiny on your hands for neglecting your crew, Captain Tealeaf.” You put on your pants and sit down on the edge of the bed to slip on your shoes, tying the laces as you go. You feel the tiefling slip up behind you arms wrapping around your waist.

“Is that an order, commander?” Kingsley whispers into your ear. You smile turning your head to face him, waiting to see who will lean in first and close the gap. The knocking on the door returns and you take this moment to gently flick Kingsley’s chin again as you slip from his grasp and step over towards the door. Kingsley grumbles a collective of rather colourful words making you grin.

“It is, captain. Back to work.”

[beansbeware]

Beans’ Bagginshield Recs

Here it is! My first rec list eight years since I first started shipping Bagginshield. When this lockdown started (and ended and started again) I found myself re-reading OG/classics and discovering new ones. Sifting through my AO3 history I realized I have read and already forgotten so much fic over the years. For a while, I though the ship had run its course but as we can see now, Bagginshield lives! Check back for updates as I discover (and remember) more fics. Pay attention to the tags and trigger warnings! 

AU

I Sang In My Chains Like The Sea by orphan_account for lincesque, IronPanda

In which Bilbo is a Jaeger pilot candidate, and Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. (Pacific Rim AU) [Wasn’t sure how this one worked but man it did]

At the Turn of the Year by northerntrash

They say that strange things live in the woods, fair folk and things more spirit than man; don't step between the old oaks, parents mutter to their children, or they might find you, and eat you. Thorin never believed that, but now winter is settling into his bones, the shadows are growing longer through the hoar frost, and he is lost among the trees.

And it was there that Thorin met him, that strange, laughing creature, walking barefoot through the bracken.

Canon-ish

Homeward Bound by perkynurples for 61Below

His life slips away from him on an elven boat carrying him overseas, and there is one last journey Bilbo Baggins must take if he truly means to arrive home.

Sansûkh by determamfidd

The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors.

The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

(Follows the story of the War of the Ring).

The Great Shire Conspiracy by Avelera for Emsiecat

Ten years later, Bilbo can't even go to the Green Dragon without a dwarven tourist buying him a beer and sobbing over Bilbo's great tragic love affair with Thorin Oakenshield. Which would all be quite touching and heartbreaking, if not for one little thing...

Dark (generally not a fan but this one made the cut)

Pain-Bearer by lilithiumwords (unfinished)

In an alternate reality, Erebor was never taken by Smaug, and the War of Dwarves and Orcs never happened. The Orcs invaded the Shire, slaughtering hundreds and taking countless more as slaves. Bilbo is slave to Azog, the Dwarf King's mortal enemy... until the Dwarf King rescues him.

Dwarves! in the Shire

Selling to Hobbits by HildyJ 

Exiled from his kingdom and living on the mercy of others, Thorin is determined to make his own way in the world for him and his family. And the annual Summer Fair in Hobbiton sounds like the best place to sell enough of his crafted goods to do just that.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ (series)

After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Erebor - Nope, Never Fell 

A Most Sensible Idea by HildyJ

Bilbo Baggins isn't sure about this. Not one bit.

Frodo is definitely too young to enter into an arranged marriage with a dwarven king called Thorin Oakenshield. It's a good thing that Bilbo is there to chaperone him through their courtship.

After all, there's no chance that a fussy hobbit bachelor would ever catch the eye of a king.

Signs and Meanings by HildyJ

It shouldn't matter to Thorin that the visiting hobbit cook doesn't speak his language. But it does.

Per Aspera by northerntrash

Deep in the dungeons of the Kingdom of Erebor, in an old, unused storeroom, lived a Hobbit.

In which Bilbo Baggins, a strangely successful thief, makes a mistake, and meets a Prince.

Erebor - Rebuilding

Mother-Tongue by northerntrash for HildyJ

Forget-me-not: a small flower, with four petals, which are normally found in shades of blue with a pink or white centre. These are traditional flowers of intent in the Shire, used to express true love, and remembrance.

In which Bilbo plans to leave Erebor, and Thorin tries to understand why.

Previous Engagements by Lunarflare14

After the Battle of Five Armies Thorin and Company have a new task: rebuilding their reclaimed home. Suddenly Bilbo finds himself up to his ears in responsibility and he surprises himself with how well he can navigate negotiations with elf dignitaries, farmers in Dale, and a dwarf king who has patience for neither.

But as Spring approaches a caravan from the Blue mountains brings something everyone had nearly forgotten: the dwarf woman Thorin promised his hand to many years ago.

Which is fine. It's all fine. It wasn't like Bilbo was falling in love with the king or anything.

That would be tragic.

And I'm Your Lionheart by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo lingers in Erebor while Thorin recovers from his wounds, and soon finds himself caught up in politics, romance, and the occasional kidnapping. Ensemble cast. AU. Eventually Thorin/Bilbo.

Fix-Its (Gawd we need them)

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right?

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

though the stars walk backward by baggvinshield, killaidanturner

Bilbo wakes, always in Erebor, with dark shadows to one side and the first light of a terrible dawn to the other.

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right?

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Over Your Shoulder by northerntrash

The battle is over, and the lost have been counted. There is too much death, too much blood, and in the middle of it sits one small Hobbit, left quite alone but for a body on the ground and the memory of what might have been. But he is a tenacious creature, and if there is one thing that he has learnt, it is not to give up hope.

In which Bilbo Baggins goes on one last journey, and doesn't come back alone.

Historical Setting

The Ghost And Mr Baggins by perkynurples

They say that everything can be cured by saltwater - sweat, tears or the sea. Bilbo Baggins chooses the last option, taking his recently orphaned nephew and moving to the charming Oak Cottage, overlooking England’s grislier shores. The house charms him instantly, and though he knows nothing at all about the sea, or about making ends meet on his own so far from everything he’s known his whole life for that matter, he’s quite determined to stay, and see his nephew get better, odd sounds in the night be damned. He’s living in a modern world, after all, and the nonsense he’s been hearing about the house being haunted by its former owner, the mysterious Captain Durin, is just silly superstition… isn’t it?

Hobbit! Thorin

I've Grown a Hedge Around My Heart by pibroch (littleblackdog)

Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood.

It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him.

Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

Marriage (or something like it)

An Unexpected Proposal by Eareniel

As Bilbo sat smoking in his empty hobbit hole, he couldn’t help but wonder – when did his life become so boring? Or better yet – when did his old life stop being enough?

He suspected the answer to that question lay somewhere around the time when he had refused Thorin Oakenshield’s offer of marriage.

Something Blue by Lapin

Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

Magical/Super Powers

On Adventures and Other Forms of Conduct Unbecoming of a Wizard by manic_intent for beingevil

For as long as even the old Gaffer could remember there had been a wizard living in the hill at Bag End, overlooking the Shire. As wizards went, this one wasn't the wandering sort, always out to lure gentle folk out onto nasty adventures, or even the powerful kind, the sort that lived in high towers, reaching out into the ways of the world.

Modern Setting

Old Stone, New Fires by northerntrash

Bilbo was not sure what he had expected when he had agreed to supervise the restoration of Erebor House, on the lonely tidal island in the North sea, but it was not this. The winters up here are cold and harsh, and there is a strange feeling on the air, thick with the brine of the sea and secrets to which he is not privy; there is some part of the long and troubled history of the place that has not been spoken of, a shadow between the broken family gravestones and the caves beneath the cliffs, dark and dangerous.

Perhaps it is all in Bilbo’s mind, but as the nights grow longer, he starts to doubt it, and as Thorin sinks ever deeper into black and incalculable moods, he will have to find what has been lost, before it takes them all.

For This by northerntrash

Thorin Durin had lived in his new flat for approximately eighty four minutes when things started to go terribly, terribly wrong. The wrongness came in the form of a package, delivered to his door, wrapped in brown paper and string, with a small tag wishing him a very sincere welcome to the building.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples

Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

If There Were Water by stickman

Bilbo Baggins might be in over his head. He’s purchased an old stone house atop a hill overlooking a city he doesn’t know, and plans to live quietly, largely ignoring the rest of the world. But it’s early April, the rainy season, and the roof leaks, and there's something strange about Bywater House that he can't quite figure out.

Thorin Oakenshield is in his fourth month of trying to reconcile his own grief with his failures at anything remotely resembling a competent single parent, living out of a shoebox flat with Fíli (seven, sullen, and stubborn as hell) and Kíli (five, resilient but cracking), working crap jobs and hating everything including himself.

Under the cover of rainy afternoons and sleepless nights, roof repairs and building restoration, Bilbo and Thorin try to figure out how one navigates isolation, and how one breaks out of it. Every step they manage to take forward finds them dragged back again; every question asked has too many answers, or too few. This is a story about living in a world where everyone is on their own, always, and how things go on.

How the West Was Won and Where It Got Us by stickman

Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands.

Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up.

Except one morning, someone does.

The Boy You Met (At The Coin Laundry) by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo accidentally spends a summer in Ireland. One rainy day, Thorin appears in the hotel laundry room, naked and dripping wet and about to propose. (But not, unfortunately, to Bilbo.)

Gandalf, Thranduil, and a handful of Spanish footballers all guest-star.

Hooked On You by Chamelaucium

Thorin should have learnt not to trust his brother and sister by now.

Come with us on holiday, they’d said. It’ll be fun, they’d said. A nice break from work.

Yeah right. All this holiday had brought him was being knocked around the head, acute hay-fever, and the biggest, most ridiculous crush ever on the cute, golden-haired fishing instructor.

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

“One”/Soulmates

you lick your lips (you taste like years of being alone) by perkynurples for stopchasingflowers

Thorin Oakenshield was born without the longing, and has spent his whole life merely observing others as they pursued a feeling unknown to him until they finally found their One. He has made his peace with the prospect of being alone, and has been faring well enough, but little does he know the fates have a different story in store for him.

Things We Grow Together by serenbach

Dwarves are born with a bone-deep knowledge of their One, but Thorin stops feeling the pull of his after the dragon attacks Erebor. Needless to say, he is surprised, and not initially pleased, to find his One living behind a round green door decades later.

Hobbits find a seed that represents their innermost self and can offer it to someone else to plant. This creates a bond as strong as deep roots in the earth between them. It is just like Bilbo, after years of thinking that no one would want his, to offer his soul-seed to a dwarf that does not understand gardening metaphors.

But just because they have found each other does not make the quest to reclaim Erebor any easier, and in the end a sacrifice is still made.

Thorin has to trust in the strength of the bond between himself and his One, because otherwise he will never believe that the sacrifice was worth it.

Colour-struck by northerntrash

Soul mates are like adventures, Bilbo had often consoled himself. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that made you late for dinner. It was no great hardship that he had never met his, even if he couldn't tell which of his petunias were blue and which were purple.

Quest-ions

Discovering Mr Baggins by Eareniel

The story of a Hobbit, told through the eyes of the dwarves.

Thorin Oakenshield's Majestic Diary by Fruitsie

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Totally Majestic Badass of Middle Earth, does not have a raging hard-on for Bilbo Baggins.

No, seriously.

Just read his diary.

Call You Home by northerntrash

In which the Company are entirely too nosy about matters that are supposed to be a secret, and Bilbo learns that being concerned about propriety is overrated when you could be making friends instead.

Time Travel (because walking Middle Earth is not enough)

Of an Arcane Binding by Salvia_G

An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

My fam is rewatching the MCU and i jumped in the middle of Phase 2 but because ive seen the future movies i know whats going to happen and my brain is conquering a bunch of "but what if this happened instead" scenarios. They're mostly crack scenarios but they're still pretty funny so im going to share them with you

AoU Nat develops a thing with Bruce. But when he returns in IW its been two years, and Nat still kinda likes him. What if Bruce showed up on Earth with his new gf Valkyrie, who Nat doesnt meet till after their awkward reunion. Cue: Natasha Angst.

Bruce returns to Earth in IW but what if he returned with Valkyrie but shes HULK'S gf. Cue: constant correcting ("Bruce's girlfriend is drinking my whole bar" "shes not my girlfriend, shes Hulk's" *cricket noises*), Tony making jokes, and inappropriate questions about how the sex works and if Bruce is conscious for it.

What if the Guardians arrive on Earth (before Bruce does in IW) and they're the ones that inform them of Thanos. Cue: Peter having a lot of mixed feelings about returning to Earth, the GOTG not making it any easier with their comments, Peter being all "im a expert on all things Terra" and it becomes immediately clear hes not (its only been 26+ years...), Tony shoving a picture of a raccoon in Rocket's face, Peter and Gamora dancing in the breakroom and the Avengers being like "how did a guy like him land a girl like her", Drax making everyone uncomfortable, the Avengers not knowing how truly dangerous Gamora is since shes the only one of them with common sense, Mantis throwing off the Avengers' dynamic because she revealed something

Thats it for now i'll add more as we watch them

UPDATE:

In Ant-Man Scott uses a leg strangling move and it surprises both Sam and Hope. In CW Scott's first combat person was Black Widow. What if in CW Scott used Black Widow's signature (at least to the audience) move against her. Cue: surprise (as seen in Ant-Man), probably someone going "thats a girl move" and Scotts like "well i was trained by a girl so", maybe someone going "Nat he just used your move against you!"

In CW both Bucky and Steve go after the arc reactor in Tony's suit. What if the arc reactor was still regulating his heart when this happened. Cue: Steve's scary desperate fighting being seen as even scarier because he's legit trying to kill Tony, maybe Steve trying to intervene earlier like "Bucky stop! Thats his actual heart!", possibly T'Challa deciding to take Tony back to Wakanda too

UPDATE:

What if (in Black Panther) Erik was on the battlefield when the Jabari entered scene. Cue: idk M'Baku throwing him across the field? I just wanna know what Erik's reaction would've been when seeing a random huge guy just ripping through his army

UPDATE:

I didnt realize Strange knew so much song trivia so What If him and Quill got into a little argument over some 70s songs. Cue: entertainment

What If Loki didnt grab/he dropped the Tesseract and the ship reached Earth without Thanos' little stop. Cue: Asgard reaching and settling into life on Earth, Thor being excited to contact his friends and the Avengers are just like "what? how? huh?", Bruce's return/Bruce hiding out in Asgard, the news that Prince Loki is among the refugees...

Actually why were here what if Thanos has to get the Tesseract from the remains of Asgard? Like would he have to fight Surtur? Would he have to fight Hela? Tbh i think either would win in a fight with him Or are they both long gone and all thats left is rubble?

What if Hulk became Bruce again before Bruce got fast tracked to Earth in IW and he showed up in either mismatched Sakaar armor or Asgard fashion. Cue: Bruce's trip being much more real to the Avengers, Avengers believing Thor was secretly hiding him these past two years, just general curiosity over the fact Bruce was on and lived on another planet which no famous human has done

What if Bruce and Valkyrie were still doing their "i feel like i know you" thing and it drives everybody else nuts. Cue: general irritation, a unhelpful Thor, Nat not liking how Bruce's face lights up and he gets excited every time that happens

In Thor 3 Thor tries to do the whole "sun's going down" thing in the arena. What if it worked??

UPDATE:

The San Francisco chase scene in AMatW was huge so what if it happened a week before IW. Cue: massive media coverage, Avengers being like "is that the guy from Germa- DID THAT BUILDING JUST GROW", random crack theories about Ghost, Scott NOT being in the Quantum Realm when The SnapTM occured

What if Ghost was there in the fight against Thanos. Cue: her walking up behind him and ripping his heart out. Game Over. Everyone can go home now. Like the only stone/weapon that could stop her would be the Time Stone or if her treatment was permeant and not temporary. If we can have a million fics on what if Venom or another SPUMC character was there then imagining Ava there isnt that far out

In Ant-Man Hank breaks Scott out of his holding cell, in AMatW Scott sneaks Hank and Hope out of a interrogation room using the same techniques. What if Hank and Hope rescued Scott from The Raft. Cue: everyone (Team Cap) getting excited only to be left behind, them hearing the one-half conversation that is Scott trying to defend himself to Hank, everyone (government and Team Iron Man) being forced to treat Scott more seriously

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: You meet Steve Rogers for an interview but he’s not what you expected.

Note: I’ve been trying to chill the last five days but I obviously got some writing in. It has resulted in this impromptu series and I hope you all like it. It’s looking like it will be about 10 chapters when all is said is done but that being said, I am still working on it.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

Your left ankle bent as you leaned heavily on your heel. You stood before the thick walnut door, a round frosted window on its face. The townhouse stuck out on the old Brooklyn row and all knew its resident. It surprised many that he remained in the borough and he was cherished all the more for it. He was the golden boy of New York.

Well, that’s what people like to believe. You weren’t there to paint another flowery picture of the saviour. You were there to speak with the real man behind the plan. There was a story behind Steve Rogers that had yet to be told and when you were selected to tell it, you knew you had to do it right. The task was both daunting and humbling. It could be your big break.

You knocked and adjusted the bag that hung from your shoulder. You didn’t miss the group of kids at the end of the block gathered around for a glimpse of their hero. The door opened and you were greeted by the man himself. He smiled at you as his hand rested on the curled door handle.

“Hi,” He greeted you. “Thanks for coming. It saves me a lot of trouble.”

“Not at all,” You shook his hand. 

You’d spoken to him briefly over the phone and negotiated the time and place for your interview. You agreed that him coming to the office would cause too much of a flurry. You were sure he was over that.

“Come in,” He stepped back and waved you through.

He closed the door as you looked around the entryway. A thick banister with the same dark wood as the walls led up to the second level and a finely carved archway peeked through to the next room. It was cozy and a lot quainter than you expected. The exposed brick above the panelling lent it a warmth.

“Shoes?” You stopped by the mat.

“Your call,” He said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers, but I’m fine,” You assured him as you stepped out of your heels. You’d hate to scuff the hardwood. “I’m sure you're just as impatient as me to begin.”

“Steve. And yeah, I suppose. I don’t really do much more than pressers and usually, I don’t do much talking.” He confessed. “Just through here,” He pointed to the front room. 

You nodded and stepped through. He directed you to the pair of armchairs before the artificial fireplace and you set your bag down as you sat. He lowered himself across from you as you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone and notebook. You swiped up and flicked your finger across the screen.

“Do you mind if I record you? It helps with editing and of course, accuracy,” You said.

He scratched his jaw and shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Great,” You hit the red dot and set the phone down on the small table with the mic facing him. 

🖋️

You were a bit surprised by how it had all unfolded, but, you supposed, you were right when you said no one was ever exactly what they seemed. Steve was nice enough as he showed you the door but you could see the agitated impatience behind his eyes. You should’ve eased him into it more. Timing was everything.

Even so, you had promised your editor a story and if you didn’t deliver after being chosen for such a coveted one, well, you would never see its likes again.

So you sat at your desk in your small but comfortable city apartment. It was nothing compared to the star-spangled hero’s walk-up but it was home. If you could work the interview the right way, it might mean an upgrade, or at least a television that didn’t flicker.

You hit play on your phone for the third time that night. Steve Rogers’ voice was etched into your brain. And that tension in his forehead, the tic in his jaw. A thinly veiled wrath unexpected of the valiant soldier-turned-saviour. You shivered and paused the recording. It was almost startling how quickly he’d turned on you, but you weren’t entirely innocent.

You stretched your fingers over the keyboard and sighed as you stared at your blinking cursor. You couldn’t just sit on this forever. You had a deadline and an extension was an impossibility, if not a death warrant for your career.

So you hit play and began to type, pausing to play back snippets as you went.

🖋️

‘It’s early afternoon in the heart of Brooklyn. Amidst the old brick buildings that line the cracked sidewalks is a townhouse unlike any other. The home of a man born there over a century ago. A living ghost that haunts the block. Most would say he is a friendly spirit.

Steve Rogers answers the door as a boy lets his baseball roll under a car and his friends lower their mitts to watch. A teen on a bike, a ring in his nose, even slows to admire the hometown hero as he smiles; a beacon of the borough. A glimmer of hope for all to think that the block is not the whole world.

He greets me like an old friend. “Hi.” The same smile seen in newsprint. He thanks me for coming and ushers me inside. This is the first time I’ve met him in person. I can’t lie; I’m intimidated. I’m just another person in debt to this great veteran.

His house isn’t what you would expect from a man as prestigious as him. No medals hanging on the wall, no vainglorious cut-outs of his image, or pictures of him shaking hands with men in suits. Only framed baseball cards along freshly laid wood-panels. It’s like any other house in Brooklyn, just newer. An ancient skeleton revived.

We sit in the front room, he offers me a drink. I’m not very thirsty. I’m more anxious to start talking. I can see he is too though his facade is hard to crack. He tells me to call him Steve as my recitations of ‘Mr. Rogers’ become almost pathetic. We begin.

Interviewer: “Great.” I hit ‘record’. “I’ll start by saying you have a nice place.”

Steve: “Thanks.” He seems to relax as he leans back in the chair which is nearly too narrow for his broad shoulders. “It took a while but I think it’s coming together.”

Interviewer: “Can’t take the boy out of Brooklyn, I guess.”

Steve: “Wouldn’t leave it for the world.” He smiles again, though he never truly looks less than amiable.

I: “Only to save it,”

S: “I do what I can.

I: “More than most; New York, Sekovia, the world. You’ve done it all. Do you ever just take a break?”

S: “I try. And sometimes I get a chance to just… be here.”

He looks around, proud of himself, of his home.

I: “Any hobbies?”

S: “You know, I used to love to draw. Nothing special, you know. But I found it calming. I actually bought a bunch of pencils and a pad but I never touched them. I’m sure they're just sitting up in my closet, neglected.” 

I listen intently, imagining this man bent over a notebook. It’s an absurd picture as my mind returns to the man in his cowl with shield in hand. The red, white, and blue bullseye is more suiting in my head than a pen.

I: “Anything else? Anything you actually do?”

S: “I like to run. Helps me get to know my neighbours, reconnect with my roots. I read… a little. I’m still not really into the whole internet thing but I try. I still get the newspaper just to read the strips and fill in the weekly crosswords.”

He confirms my suspicion. A man lost in time, but it seems he has found his place.

I: “A man for all times. And you work? I’m sure you get tired of talking about it but well, there’s been a lot of speculation about a possible retirement.”

He ‘s silent as he looks away and fidgets in his chair. He becomes the rehearsed hero at his podium. 

S: “I’d hate to fan that fire but I think it’s only natural to consider it.” 

I: “Thinking of settling down?”

S: “It’s always a thought but I’m not stupid. It’s not that simple. I’m not the type of man that gets to settle down.”

This remark might break the heart of every woman in Brooklyn and beyond but it seems to hurt him more. A grim truth for a man who many would say has the world in his hands.

I: “And if you did hang up the shield, is there anything you want to do? Anywhere you want to go?” 

S: “I’d like to try fishing. I’ve heard it’s relaxing. I love the city but it’s nice to get away now and then.”

I: “Is there anything keeping you from retiring? Besides the obvious; we all know you’re a good man and a great hero. You’ve shown commitment to the city, the world, humanity.” 

He looks to the artificial fireplace and shrugs. He’s thinking; perhaps censoring his response.

I: “Co-workers? The world is well aware of what you did for your old friend. And it has proven to be a point of contention, even after the pardon.”

He clears his throat and he’s no longer smiling.

S: “Bucky is an old friend and a commendable soldier. He does his job well. I wouldn’t take anything back. He has more than earned his place.”

I: “So, if you retired, you believe that he would retain his place among the team?”

He’s frowning now. He adjusts his posture so that he seems even bigger than before. A formidable opponent, if not an overwhelming one. 

S: “He is not there because of me. He’s there because of himself. Because he is an asset to the world.”

His blue eyes are darker now. No longer the crystalline waves shining in the sun but those foreboding tides which crash together beneath the moonless sky. My ship has gone awry, carried by an errant wind.

I: “Well, I can’t help but point out that many wouldn’t agree. You put yourself and several of your associates on the line to save him. To bring him into your fold. To place a man who was once a national enemy beside you. I hate to say it but, frankly, even if he were pardoned on his own merit, I fail to imagine him being allowed the same access to confidential intelligence and tasked with the protection of civilian life.”

His hands are fists. I could put up a front and say I’m not nervous, but I am. I have done what I once thought impossible. I have angered Steve Rogers.

S: “He wasn’r Bucky, but he is now and he has been cleared. I’m sorry, but I thought you were here to talk about me.”

I: “Yes, I am, but the world is well aware of your friendship with Mr. Barnes and all its implications. It is hard to separate him from your life.”

S: “I agreed to talk about me.”

His tone is set in stone. I attempt to stay calm myself.

I: “We are talking about you, but we can move on. Now, even with its dissolution, there are still questions being asked about the Sokovia Accords and your opposition to it. While many can acknowledge the need for your team and their work, they can’t help but wonder at the lack of restraints placed upon it. There are regulations even for the FBI and CIA and other protective services. So why should you be exempt?”

He sniffs and stands up slowly. He retreats behind his chair and nears a table along the wall. He distracts himself with a signed baseball. I don’t have a chance to ask who scribbled along the stitches as he tosses it and finds his voice.

S: “I never disagreed with the sentiment of the Accords. As heroes, of course, we should have obligations. Our first and foremost being the protection of innocent lives. The hardest to uphold but we do it.”

He is ever the statesman but he isn’t finished and his voice gets low. Dangerous, even.

S: “At the same time, we put our own lives on the line and you come here and nag me about formalities? What is it you want? Paperwork? Reports on how I threw my shield to stop a bullet from striking an innocent bystander? How a piece of shrapnel nearly severed my tendon as I threw myself in front of a speeding vehicle?”

I: “With all due respect, I am only asking about transparency. People deserve to know more. They deserve the truth.”

S: “Is that what you’re looking for? The truth? You want to know what we don’t tell you and your readers?” 

He puts the baseball down and his hand is on his hip, disapproving. I suspect his lecture will continue. He nears the chair and grips the back of it as he narrows his eyes at me. I fear he might throw it in my direction though for now, I hope it should act as my own shield against him.

S: “About how I have to lie about how many men I lose to keep this world safe. Because I can’t scare the people. Because I have to keep on this mask of the brave hero.”

His eyes go to the ceiling. He takes a breath to calm himself. I can tell he wants to continue. That he is holding back something which has brewed within him for a very long time. It is a moment before he speaks again.

S: “We’re done here. That’s it. Turn your phone off and go.”

The interview is over. What happens next will remain off the record. I leave with a mouth full of bile. My childlike wonder has been extinguished. I came to seek out the man behind the shield and I have done just that, but he is not who I expected. 

I was ready for a humble man, a man like any of us; the same wants and desires. Still human despite his enhancements; despite his superhuman status. What I discovered was a man who’s exceptionality has nurtured a sense of entitlement. 

And we do owe him our lives, our gratitude, we owe him the world. Yet I cannot dismiss the sense that he might regret his good deeds. That to him, it has become a thankless chore. That we are the needy children and he has been burdened with our cries for help.

So we should not be surprised or upset upon his retirement, not if, but when it comes. And we cannot fault him for his departure. It has been a long-time coming.’

🖋️

You took a breath and sat back in your chair. You rubbed your cheeks as the recording began to repeat itself. You stopped it and checked the time. You’d spend your morning editing and hope you would be ready for submission by the evening.

As you hit save, you felt an odd tremor deep inside. This could be it. Your big story. Or you could be tired and entirely up your own ass. You only hoped it was the former.

🖋️

You sat across from Poppy as she read your article through the glasses which sat low on her long nose. She was just past forty and wouldn’t look it if she didn’t wear the ridiculous half-circle spectacles. She wore a shade of red which paid homage to her name and her lipstick was just as bold. Her long lashes flicked up as she lowered the pages and her blonde hair fell behind her shoulder.

“Well…” She said carefully. “It is…interesting.”

You swallowed nervously as you teetered on the edge of the acrylic seat. Her long manicured nails played with the corner of the article.

“I had initially planned to have this in the back pages. No one really cares about the Avengers anymore.” She said. “But this is… I will discuss it with our marketing team but I know a feature when I see it.”

“A feature?” Your lips parted and you sat back as you gripped the thin arms of the chair.

“Oh, yes,” She said. “Another celebrity break-up is not exactly scandalous and to be frank, I do tire of that ridiculous narrative. But this… you will be hearing from me soon.”

“Uh,” You stood awkwardly at what you were sure was a dismissal. “Thank you.”

“For what? Doing my job? Should I thank you for doing yours?” She countered.

“N-no,” You stuttered.

“Go on then. I’m certain you have other work to do.” She tapped her long nails. “You certainly will once this is ready to print.”

You nodded and left her. She was already on her phone before the door closer behind you and you looked around the blindly bright office. It would be your first feature and it was the first article which had earned you more than a passive grumble from the woman. Perhaps you hadn’t been so foolish to think you had actually done something well.

[vagabonds-art]

Lost

Summary: This is basically how I see Kebechet (my guardian) reacting to the start of the this season and the emotional fall out of that cutscene. 

A/N: Major spoilers if you haven’t played up until the second cutscene, be warned! Also, I am aware of the Wolftone Draw lore tab but Kebe isn’t. So to her, Saint could be right.

Characters: Mara Sov, Osiris, Savathûn, Kebechet (OC Guardian), Demon (OC Ghost), a bunch of mentions like Saint, Ikora, Lakshmi

Word Count: 1,699

Warnings: Canon typical violence (its kinda there) and angst. 

She should have known. From the very moment she found him wondering about the inner Hive structures on the moon, Kebechet should have known. Vaguely, she recalled telling herself that Osiris’s mannerisms and actions were unfamiliar because of his grief. 

He had just lost Sagira. There was no way he could have been thinking clearly, anyone could understand and sympathize with that. More often than not sorrow and anger mixed together in volatile and self-destructive ways. 

That was what she told herself. And now here Kebechet stood regretting it. 

Saint’s screams of anger and sadness still echoed in her ears long after he had left. It’d been long enough that he probably made it back to the tower by now. Back to tell Ikora and Zavala everything that happened while it was fresh in his memory. Not that he would ever be able to forget. 

Kebechet knew she wouldn’t. 

That thing. That frozen construct hovered a few inches off the ground, trapped between two glowing triangle shapes created by Queen Mara was once Osiris. Though inanimate, the posture it had taken before being stopped made Kebechet feel as if it were mocking her. Locked in a position akin to something trying to rip itself free of an outer shell, head tilted upward toward the sky surrounded by wisps of swirling light. A constant reminder of what should have never happened. 

“You may speak to it.”

Mara Sov’s authoritative tone snapped the Hunter out of her thoughts. Hazel eyes finally tore away from the barely open grated door off to the back of the room to meet luminescent blue ones. 

“I’m not sure I want to…”

It was true. Kebechet wanted nothing more than to run and hide, to fall asleep and wake up from this horrible nightmare. If only that was all this was. 

“I’ve told you before, your father still lives.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that? With everything we saw?”

Realizing her tone, Kebechet took a small step back and looked at the helm held in her hands for a moment. A small apology came on the back of a quiet sigh. Mara said nothing in return. Not that she needed to. Based on the subtle shifts of an otherwise stoic face, Kebechet knew she understood. Or at least, led on that she did. 

“It… Can’t hurt me… right?”

“Not in its current state.”

With a small nod, Kebechet put her helm back on and turned, starting to walk toward the chamber that housed the construct. She was sure to give the Techeun in the center of the room a wide berth as she passed. She’d barely rescued the tech witch from the ascendent plane and trust was a little hard to give at the moment.

What was only a minute or two at most felt like hours the closer the Hunter got to the frozen statue. When her footfalls fell silent was when it started speaking to her. 

“I am at your mercy, Guardian.”

Just like before, Savathûn’s voice was nothing like what Kebechet had expected. Not that she really knew what to expect other than low guttural growls or ear-piercing shrieks. Instead the Witch Queen’s vocals were gentle, almost welcoming in tone. 

“This construct protects me, from those who wish me harm. From my worm’s hunger. But it is a prison too. Quite elegant… Don’t you think?”

It took a moment for Kebechet to register the familiar taste of copper on her tongue before a stab of pain pulsed from where she had bitten through her right cheek. From that point on, she focused solely on that as a means of distracting herself. Distracting the growing rage and want to destroy the construct. 

For the most part, it had worked. A little too well. Savathûn was going on about her regrets, being called a liar and having skepticism. Kebechet had missed most of the one-sided conversation until she heard something about interpreting truth.

That was when the Hunter noticed everything around her starting to blur. At first, she thought it was just the visor of her helm acting up until visions of scenes past flashed before her eyes.

Savathûn’s voice acted as a narrator of sorts as she explained who she was and what she had been doing all this time. She claimed to be a friend, acting as a sort of protector when it came to the pyramid ships. The Black Fleet as she called them. When that didn’t work to her liking she took to finding a form that allowed her to gain trust among the Guardians. 

To Kebechet, it all made sense now. 

Osiris was the optimal target. He was the former Vanguard Commander, one of the heroes of the city. The means to Saint-14 being alive today. If those facts alone didn’t win over guardians and citizens alike then surely his ties to Ikora and Kebechet would. And they did. 

The current Warlock Vanguard had no issue trusting her former mentor, especially after the loss of his light. She was only trying to look out for his best interest and keep him safe within the city’s walls. And the Young Wolf? Not only was Kebechet the guardian, she was also the only one Osiris trusted to send back in time and bring Saint back alive. Being his kid must have been an added bonus when the Witch Queen found out.

As if Kebechet needed even more reason to feel absolutely horrible, Savathûn continued. 

She mentioned how it was her who brought Crow to the city for his own redemption. How she was the one to look out for Zavala when Caiatl was a threat. It even seemed as if she was bragging when she stated she was the reason House Light sought out aid from Ikora and the guardians. She was the reason for discovering Lakshmi-2’s betrayal and causing her death. 

“You may disagree with my methods,” Savathûn said with a smile evident in her tone, “but you can’t argue with results.”

Now was when Kebechet really wanted to tear away from the visions. 

Seeing the way the Witch Queen carelessly and effortlessly carried out her plan all while masquerading as Osiris was bad enough. But now the Hunter was being forced to see her father dead on the ground with the lower half of his face rapidly decaying while dozens and dozens of ink colored moths flew out of his mouth. 

“I am no villain,” Savathûn declared as the vision mercifully shifted upward, “and you are no hero.”

The imagery ended with Kebechet looking up at the Traveler being surrounded by clouds that strongly resembled a Worm God. 

“We are paracausal.”

There was a gasp that wanted to jerk out of the Hunter’s chest when her vision finally returned to normal. It took every ounce of restraint not to open fire on the construct with her auto rifle. But she did it, even managed to turn and start walking away.

With a final glance over her shoulder, Kebechet exited the chamber with as much poise as she could muster. 

She’d barely gotten a few feet away from the door before bringing Demon out of his pocket to sit in the palm of her hand. “Please…” she whispered lowly, desperately avoiding Mara’s expectant stare, “get us out of here.”

Gladly, the Ghost did so, transmitting the pair back to the ship they came in on. Once safely inside and settled, Kebechet ripped off her helm and chucked it toward the back of the cockpit. 

Demon could only watch as she fidgeted in her seat, staring at the console as if to decide what the hell to do next. Gathering his own courage, he hesitantly floated in front of her face. 

“I got a couple messages while you were dealing with… that.”

When the Hunter said nothing he continued, “One’s from Saint, the oth--”

“Play it.”

With a twist of his shell, Demon let a ball of light expand from his core. 

“My little bird, do not blame yourself for what has happened today. That thing is known as Queen of Lies for a reason. I do not trust that it ever had Osiris to begin with and neither should you. I will find the real Osiris and bring him home, this I promise you as a Titan and your second Father. Stay strong, Kebechet and remind Ikora of the same.”

The planes of Demon’s shall retracted back to his core as the message ended. His optic was downcast as he spoke, “The other was from Ikora, she just wants to talk.” 

As if realizing what he had said with the fragile nature of his guardian’s current emotions, Demon’s optic shot up to look her in the eye, “Like a Warlock and not a Titan!”

That managed to get a small scoff of a laugh from Kebechet. Already Demon could feel himself relax until she sniffled a moment later. Not even a second after that was when the water works started. 

Her chest jumped with sobs as she tried in vain to wipe the tears from her cheeks. 

“De--Demon… How-- What’re we gonna do? How can we-- Is th--there any… Can we even fi--fix this?”

“I… Kebe, I don’t know…”

Demon knew that wouldn’t help, even saw it when Kebechet’s face contorted with distress. Her head thumped softly against the back of her chair before she started to curl in on herself. The heels of her boots planted firmly on the seat of the chair as she wrapped her arms around her knees. 

Wordlessly, Demon set the flight path back to the Tower before managing to squeeze his way under his guardian’s chin in an attempt to comfort her. When she shifted he worried he’d upset her further. His concern was put to rest when she grabbed the scarf Osiris gifted to her years ago and took it off to wrap around his small drone-like body. Then her whole form shifted. 

Now sitting sideways in her chair, Kebechet tucked Demon between her shoulder and neck. Her hands cocooned around him and the scarf like she was trying to protect one of the few things she had left. 

Because she was. 

[swissmissficrecs]

Are there fics where in Harry (John's sister) is among the main characters?

Reply: Certainly, although knowing me, the main focus is still on Sherlock and John but Harry has a significant role in these:

A Study in Spherification by mistyzeo (58K, E, Johnlock) John Watson has been out of work for eighteen months after his last restaurant, Fifth Northumberland, burned to the ground in a kitchen accident. He's more than ready for a new project, but who wants to open a restaurant with a washed up celebrity chef who can't even hold a knife anymore?

Attribute Nothing to Fate by recreational (37K, E, Johnlock) A journey to Italy calls up old desires, but John Watson, trapped by the social conventions of his time, is not prepared to give in to temptation and change his life forever. It takes someone else to do that for him. A homage to E.M. Forster’s ‘A Room with a View’.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (36K, E, Johnlock, Harry/Clara) Clara's American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger.

Cracks in the Wall by [orphaned] (83K, E, Johnlock) After losing his mother to illness, John's family must figure out how to move on with life.  John finds comfort in a place he never expected.

Fearful Symmetry by irisbleufic (22K, E, Johnlock, Harry/Clara) Sherlock turned again, staring, eyebrows high enough to hit the ceiling.  "Given the choice, why on earth would you spend your birthday with your sister?"  John took another sip of tea. "Because it's her birthday, too."

Four Funerals and a Wedding by Susan (12K, E, Johnlock, Harry/OFC) The story of John and Sherlock or Nothing worth having is ever easy.

God help me, I do by PlainJane (90K, E, Johnlock, Mollstrade) A consulting detective, two doctors, a forensic pathologist, a DI, a senior citizen, a recovering alcoholic and the British government walk into a register office... Cases, chuckles, angst and lots of good loving on the journey to one very unconventional wedding day.

How I Impregnated Your Mother by Mildredandbobbin (50K, E, Johnlock, Harry/Clara, Mollstrade) Sherlock and John are together and things are good, great even...except...Sherlock's in a one sided competition with John's dead wife, John hasn't proposed yet, and now Harry and Clara want Sherlock and John to father their children.

Hushabye Mountain by blueink3 (15K, T, Johnlock, Harry/Clara) Harry and Clara welcome a new addition to the family. Or, the story of Lucy Watson-Collins' birth and how Uncle John nearly murdered Uncle Sherlock in the middle of Lenox Hill Hospital's maternity ward.

John Watson and the Three Spirits (aka A Ghost Story of Christmas) by PipMer (18K, T, Johnlock, Mollstrade, Harry/Clara) John hadn’t planned on becoming a grumpy old man. Well, he wasn’t old quite yet. But he wasn’t getting any younger, and as he thought back on his life so far this Christmas Eve, he was coming up with a lot of regrets.

May Your Heart Purr Like a Bumblebee by destinationtoast (14K, M, Johnlock) In which Harry is the biggest John/Sherlock shipper: Harry Watson is back from rehab and temporarily staying with John and Sherlock.  She and John warily begin to rebuild their friendship, and then she makes some observations about her little brother and his flatmate which throw John entirely off balance.

Mise en Place by azriona (161K, M, Johnlock) John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes.

(More Than) Flesh and Bones series by Jezunya (127K, M, Johnlock, Harry/OFC) A post-Reichenbach, zombie apocalypse, Johnlock story told in three parts.

Pater Noster by SilentAuror (34K, E, Johnlock) During the autumn that John is staying at Baker Street again after Sherlock was shot, he ruminates over the similarity between Sherlock's shot and the one that killed his father when he was fifteen. Cold case meets series 3 fix-it.

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (156K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? (Also its sequel, Lifetime Achievement.)

The Case of the Fleeing Frenchman by PenelopeWaits (26K, E, Johnlock) Captain James Watson and his son John have been protecting each other and their beloved Harriet for years.  Where will true safety reside when a handsome sailing ship and her haunted captain arrive and he makes a shadowy proposal?

The Case of the Meddling Siblings by destinationtoast (36K, M, Johnlock) Mycroft and Harry Watson team up to send John and Sherlock on a case to distract a Sherlock who’s been pining after John.  And Harry, at least, is determined to get the boys together.  Two sets of Holmes & Watson shenanigans ensue. (post-S2 AU)

The family you choose yourself by Zaeris (60K, M, Johnlock, Harry/Clara) Sherlock has come back and John finds himself unexpectedly forced into the role of father while he struggles to make sense of his feelings about his eccentric flatmate and his plans for the future. Luckily he's got some well-meaning friends to help him along the way.

The Heart in Him by azriona (44K, M, Johnlock, Harry/Clara) Three years after Sherlock fakes his death, he receives a text from Mycroft telling him it is time to come home.  But the text doesn’t give the whole story.  Not by half.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (128K, T, Johnlock, Harry/Clara) Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

The Measure of a Gentleman by i_ship_an_armada (67K, E, Johnlock, Mollstrade)  It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a partner. Less universally acknowledged is that a single man in possession of very little in the way of fortune may be in want of a partner as well, but John Watson had little time or energy to devote to his own wants or needs... Enter one Mr Holmes...

The Song Nobody Knows by Laur (78K, E, Johnlock) If Sherlock could take John Watson back to his cave, he would keep him alive as long as possible. He would collect rain water and sea weed and fish to feed him, and he would keep him warm with his soft feathers. In return John Watson would answer all of Sherlock’s questions. Yes, Sherlock would keep him, his own little mystery to unravel. Eventually, though, the human would die, as they always did, and Sherlock would have to eat him, like he always did.  This was much more interesting.

Wild About Harry collection by PlaidAdder (397K, T, Johnlock, various others) This started as a post-Reichenbach fic and turned into a series in which Harry Watson is a repeating character. John and Sherlock get together in the first story ("Empty Houses") and thereafter it's either developing relationship or established relationship. Most of this is casefic and long, but there are a few shorter ones. [This is actually two separate series. You don’t need to read all of the stories in order.]

[doorsclosingslowly]

Hell is just a beat away (3/9)

Despite early promise, young Maul has turned out to be a disappointment, willfully delaying his training with secret attempts to make himself friends from scrap metal. He must be properly motivated, and so Darth Sidious sends him to a slave market on an impossible mission. It backfires. Star Wars: Darth Maul (2017) comic AU | 5.2k | warning for slavery, sexual assault of a teenager (non-graphic)

Ten to doomsday, moving fast

Eldra does not sleep. She refuses. If she has to bite her fingers bloody when her eyelids threaten to drop, then so be it. Master Fyaar would have chastened her for it—she always insists that Eldra be at her best regardless of circumstance, and staying awake for what must be more than one or two entire standard days now will help with neither her innate distractibility nor her willful emotions. Her secret inadequacy, unknown to all but Fyaar, who chose Eldra when she was ten and had yet to develop the mind that is, and she has rarely admitted to those fears even in the privacy of her own brain, the mind that is perhaps fundamentally unsuited to the noble path of the Jedi. Sure, she does well enough in her classes, though she drives her teachers to frustration with her incessant fiddling with any trinket at all within her reach and her doodling and her daydreams. Sure, she mostly behaves acceptably among people, though she does not pick up on the right cues to be a diplomat and she vacillates too often between excited talking and secret loneliness, when she, once again, finds her peers more interested in each other than in whatever she has wanted to share. Her one friend in the Order is Bayro who’s two years older, though now she’s not even sure if Bayro would see her as more than a friendly, clingy acquaintance, and—

Will Bayro even miss her? They’ve made plans to watch a holovid after Eldra’s back from Teth and Bayro aces the Advanced Test on Coruscant Sublevels 6665 through 7900. Vague plans, though, and since Eldra didn’t know how long she’d have to guard Mayor Woobudg… Bayro will probably notice in a few months that Eldra hasn’t returned to the Temple, and then watch the holovid with one of her many other friends. She’ll—

Watch your feelings, Eldra, she remembers. It hurts. The memory of Master Fyaar hurts worse than even the imaginary indifference of Bayro does, but it’s necessary. As ever, Master Fyaar’s warning is right, even if it’s only the ghost of Fyaar living on inside Eldra’s grief. Eldra almost lost her calm over a scenario of her own imagination, yet another reminder of her unsuitable mercurial temperament. Yet another reminder of why she needs Fyaar, needs her constant watch, if she wants to remain on the path of the Jedi.

And Master Zalandas Fyaar is dead.

Fyaar’s dead.

Eldra watched her murder, and the murder of everyone she was supposed to protect on this mission. Eldra watched her murder and did not reach for the dark side of the force to avenge her. Eldra watched and held still.

Eldra allowed herself to be abducted.

She does not sleep in her tiny cell, just as she didn’t sleep on the freight ship that carried her to an unknown planet far away from bloodied Teth. She didn’t sleep then as stubbornly as she does now, but even before her wide-open burning eyes the pictures will not stop. The blood. The touch. The grin of her vile captor when he said that she would fetch a tidy sum, despite being a blue twi’lek (“A dime a dozen, they are, and this one’s not even a trained dancer! She hasn’t even… look!” Her captor had pulled her upper lip away then, and she had snapped for his fingers. “She’s still got those awful sharp teeth! Who the hell lets a twi’lek girl walk around with sharp teeth? She could tear a guy’s throat out, with these!”) she would still be worth a quick sale to her captors but only because she is (was) a Jedi padawan, and apparently there are quite a few pieces of shit out there who’d like to hurt a Jedi. Or—she keeps her eyes open, open, open till tears threaten to drop, and yet the thought comes. Or fuck one. Same difference.

A toy that’s padawan-shaped. That’s why they let her keep her own robes. But at least they did.

Watch your feelings, but still, Eldra shakes to her very core. She’s never thought of herself as being anything but a person, slightly inadequate perhaps in all ways that matter to her but a person; a luminous being, a small conduit for the very force to act through in the material galaxy; but now she’s been caught and taught that what she is is actually just a twi’lek girl. Cheap. Interchangeable. Nothing but her species and her gender, nothing but her flesh: a pretty dancer, never mind she hates dancing and if she ever makes it out, if the Jedi find and rescue her, please, please, she will never ever dance not even a single one of those silly novelty dances ever again even if Bayro does it first. She’ll go to whatever lengths needed to never be appraised, judged, looked upon, perceived as anything but a luminous dutiful Jedi ever again.

To these people, she’s not a person. Not a Jedi, unless the fetish counts, not really, not to the slavers and—watch your feelings, but still, the seething disgust returns and she wants nothing more than her lightsaber through her captor’s hearts or their hands torn off by her teeth—perhaps, maybe, please no, not truly anymore either to herself.

⁂

Maul wakes up to insistent beeping. He’s never heard the noise before, except—somewhere behind the headache and the nausea he remembers—except roughly five minutes ago, and five minutes before that, and five minutes before… He’s read about those periodical noises. Snooze button on an alarm clock, they’re called. He’s never used them before. He’s never used—Master teaches that a slothful tool is a tool broken, useless, and he’s never before dared to oversleep, even with his throat swollen and filled with mucus he didn’t, but now—it is a mercy he does not deserve, that Master was not here to witness Maul fail so deeply on this mission and just because something beats a booming drum inside his head and stuffed his stomach full of eels twisting up languidly through his esophagus.

Not real eels, though. He checks his vomit after throwing up. No eels. No animals hatched inside him; it’s just an inconvenient illness. And he feels better already, after spewing out the clear oily water and half-digested bread and no eels whatsoever. He does feel much better. Definitely. Illness during his mission would be inconvenient.

He has ample time to travel to the palace of Xev Xrexus before the padawan is sold there. Time he is grateful for, because Master’s ship will not let him in, so he has no access to his stilts or anything else he prepared apart from his cloak and the vocoder mask he carried in his satchel to the convenience store like a talisman of ingenuity and pretense. He doesn’t have his finest Sith robes that he left safe inside, only to be worn in the moment of Darth Maul’s triumph, and most of his weapons, too, apart from one anonymous knife strapped to his shin, are still tidied away in the ship Master gave him that will now pulverize anyone who dares approach.

Luckily, Maul is both incredibly clever—he figured out the location of the padawan! Despite Master giving him a wrong date and location! Solely by his own superior Sith cunning!—and he is within another sucker’s ship now—he sliced the lock in minutes! Because he is Darth Maul!—and the ship is full of new tools for improvisation.

Such as the large pair of black sunglasses that helps guard him at least slightly against the sun’s sickening poking and poking and poking of his cerebral cortex. Such as the trio of black shirts that, belted with a strange deltoid strip of fabric, bulk up his frame considerably and also make him feel toasty warm. Nar Shaddaa is cold, but Maul isn’t. Yet another victory to add to his tally.

With the gloves and the vocoder mask and the Sith cloak added on top, every square centimeter of Maul’s flesh is covered, and as he struts in front of the berth mirror he decides: he looks both incredibly dignified and scary, not to himself obviously but to those forcenull denizens of the underworld who will yet learn to tremble before the almighty Sith. He looks almost as impressive as Master. He doesn’t have the pale chin lurking under his cowl, obviously the most Sithly of looks, but in a pinch the black leather covering his cheeks and the opaque gridded speaker over his mouth should do almost as well.

Before he leaves, he ransacks the ship. No point in abandoning tools he might yet use. Everything he can carry, he stuffs inside his satchel.

Then, he begins the long pedestrian march to the palace of Xrexus. As usual, while he walks, he seethes in the Sithly anger of how much faster he could go if only he had a decent speeder bike. Soon, he reminds himself. Soon. After the oncoming awesome success of this mission, Master will be impressed enough to bestow the title of Darth and gift him a CK-6 swoop bike tuned up to the limits of terrestrial speed. Soon. Besides, with how slow the nausea is to settle, it’s perhaps a tiny bit useful that he is forced to take this brisk long walk in the Nar Shaddaa morning air. Although his coat and shirts fluttering with the speed of his bike would look very cool… He loses himself in his daydreams, and before long, he spies a duo of falleen in white dress shirts and black pants before the palace that belongs to Xev Xrexor.

The most adventurous part of his mission has just begun.

“Greetings,” Maul growls haughtily with the handsome baritone of his vocoder. “I have chosen to purchase a Jedi slave today. I trust this is the location for these sorts of errands?”

“Are you on the guest list?” the left falleen asks.

Guest list? Yet another complication. But Maul must not fail. “I am Ma Goweelr,” he says, borrowing the name of the man whose ship he ransacked. He found an identification card with his name on it and wisely brought it with him. He pulls it out now.

“You don’t look like Goweelr, friend,” she says.

“Unfortunately, I had… an accident.” Blast. They cannot see his face, so tt’s the height issue again. If Maul had his stilts, he could have made his way through easily, but because Master saw fit to lock the ship—no, it’s not Master’s fault. Because Maul was stupid enough to leave his tools aboard the ship, he now falters. What to do. What to do. What to—

“He’s slow,” the other bouncer whispers to his partner, but loudly enough that Maul heard it without issue. He stares intently at Maul, almost if he was expecting a specific reaction.

The left falleen winks. “All right. A little grease in the palm goes a long way, friend.”

Grease? Necessary for the function of machines. Cooking, apparently, also. Often a type of fat, either animal or plant-based, though hydrocarbons mined on certain planets or synthesized in labs such as Corellia’s X-Tech Max nowadays are a far more affordable and controllable—

“He’s dumb, Brighta. We don’t care whether you’re on the guest list. We want a bribe.”

A… Maul’s certain he read about bribes somewhere, but—

“Cash. Money. Credits.”

Credits! Maul found some on the ship. Since they were light enough, he put them in his satchel. The force is with him! He pulls out the chits he found, rummaging in a perhaps less than dignified way—the falleen exchange a look over his head that he’s too busy to try to read, but it doesn’t seem hostile—and when he hands over five thousand credits their vague non-hostility turns to genuine excitement.

“House Xrexus is honored to host you for this auction, sir,” the male falleen says when he opens the door.

“As am I,” Maul replies with a bow. When he walks past, the female bouncer taps him on the shoulder and then bends down to whisper in his ear.

“The Jedi’s auction’s in two hours, but the preview starts in one and she’ll probably get snapped up then, so. Might wanna hurry.”

“Thank… you?” Maul rumbles and winces at the vocoder turning his slight surprise into a question, but the falleen does not laugh this time.

“Appreciative customers are rare. Come back anytime,” and she winks and pushes him with her—warm, strong, startling—hand the rest of the way through the door and then slams it shut.

Presale. Other customers. Complicating factors Maul would not even have known about if it wasn’t for the bouncer—and for the force, therefore, willing him to succeed—because he didn’t… He did not actually expect any competition. After all, there are no other Sith but the Master and his apprentice. Who, then, would have need of a Jedi padawan? Who has need of Xrexus’ auction at all when they are not sent by their Master? Their… Master. Master might compete with Maul at this sale, both as a test of Maul’s readiness and as a failsafe, should Maul not manage to succeed in his mission. Master is incredibly smart after all, and foresees any number of possible twists and turns of a scenario, as unlikely as they might be. Even such unlikely eventualities as Darth Maul not completing in his mission. Master considers everything. It’s why he’s the Master.

Luckily, Maul was forewarned, and so when he passes a fire exit plan of the palace that’s nailed to a wall in the empty entrance hall he looks for any possible… There. A server room. A small bureau. Two places where Maul might gain access to the databases of Xrexus and convince the filing system that he has already bought the Jedi, before the first competitor has even placed their bid. It’s the only surefire way of preempting a person as thorough and prompt as Master is, and besides… Maul understands machines. He can charm and bend them to his will. His confusion at the bouncers’ hints and the tip the falleen gave him when he would never have expected anything of the sort based on the way the previous part of the encounter had passed—never mind the blasted lack of his carefully constructed stilts—were a sore reminder that in the field of people Maul does not yet excel to the standard of a Sith. Something he must remedy, but perhaps not on a mission as important as this. (Perhaps not among people who are oily and stare too hard.)

Laughter peals in a room straight ahead, but the server room is one floor down a side staircase. It’s sectioned off by a dangly gold chain that Maul needs to barely duck to pass under, and no-one passes through either the main corridor he left or the dusty unlit staircase while Maul hops down, thinking I am Sith alternating with I am shadow on every step.

The hallway leading to the server room is just as deserted. The door is locked, but Maul has sliced the access pads of twelve ships now and has refined his technique to under three minutes of elegant fiddling. This lock takes two seconds.

A datapad is already hanging inside right next to the door, from the cable with which it’s plugged into a socket there. Maul picks it up. Its screen is thrice-cracked and fixed up with clear tape. The touchscreen is incredibly sluggish to react, but as much as he might love the challenge of repairing it he only has less than an hour to spare. If he must, he will, but—gloves. He removes the right one, and the datapad responds.

A login screen.

Thus-far, the security has been abysmal. Worse than what he improvised for the secret hiding space of the first functional droid he built, and so he enters root, root. It works.

Pathetic, Maul thinks. Disappointing. Embarrassing. Horrendous. Useless. Awful. You deserve this. You deserve worse. It almost takes off some of the giddiness at how well Maul has been performing on his mission, thus far. His opponents are veritable morons. It is no great feat, to succeed against people as unprepared for basic survival as these, and it does not take a Sith’s cunning—it’s not worthy of the great Darth Maul who learns under Darth Sidious the greatest creature in the galaxy—to fight them.

In the central database he changes the status of the Jedi padawan to Sold and the buyer to Ma Goweelrand types in 666666666 for the winning bid. It’s a large number, and Jedi means valuable. It should pass muster. Probably. Money: yet another area where Maul requires further instruction. There was another card Maul stole with information on Goweelr’s account with the InterGalactic Banking Clan, and he enters it in the respective field. As to the user listed as making these changes, he picks the fifth-most appearing in the database. If he wanted to arouse no suspicion at all, he would need to research Xrexus’ organization in total, but—he’d really rather not. Even glancing at some of the entries of the database reawakened the eels in his stomach.

He pettily changes the admin password and wipes the screen carefully before he logs out.

Mission almost complete.

Half an hour left until the beginning of the presale, a clock tells him, and that’s most likely when they will check the padawan’s entry and approach Goweelr as her legitimate buyer. Everything is going according to plan, as long as he is not caught down here.

Since Maul is Sith and shadow and incredibly silent and deadly, he isn’t.

He sneaks back up and then strides, with as much power and dignity as he can muster when he wants to skip giddily to celebrate a job well done, into the room where the laughter comes from. It’s—

It’s bright. Loud. Full. But more than any other adjective, it’s huge, a room that is a thousand times bigger than anything Maul has ever set foot in, with a domed ceiling rising so far above that he can’t make out any details there. Can’t see whether there are any cameras, or snipers—can’t see anything but the luster and wealth on display. Plants growing on floating bowls of silver, plants he has never seen anywhere but in holos (Most plants are plants he’s only ever seen in holos. Almost all of them. Master rarely makes him train off-planet, and there is nothing but fire on Mustafar.), plants and waterfalls. Delicate staircases that appear to hover in the air just like the tree-bowls are. It looks like something out of a dream, if Maul’s dreams were able to imagine impossible worlds and not just impossible people who’ll save him.

Below it all, there are throngs of people in various kinds of festive garb, chatting and sipping on dainty glasses. People of most species he’s ever read about. Even…

Even a zabrak. There’s a zabrak over in a corner, not an Iridonian zabrak like the ones Maul finds often in his research but a zabrak who looks startingly close to him, hairless and bright and black-marked, only he’s much taller than Maul—he’s tall! Maul always worried that his species was doomed to remain as small as he is right now but he’s tall! He won’t need stilts forever!—and he’s yellow.

Idly—or trying to appear idle but actually shivering with curiosity—he saunters closer. The zabrak, it’s quickly obvious, is not here as a buyer. He’s chained up, both manacles connected to the neck cuff, though the bonds look so flimsy that Maul could have snapped them. He’s almost naked except for a pair of trousers that barely reaches his thighs and, moreover, is made of a fabric far too flimsy and tight to fight in. His skin is weirdly shiny as well, as if he was sweating but that is unlikely, given Maul’s not too hot under his three shirts and a cloak (in fact, it gets colder the closer Maul comes to the strange zabrak), and the yellow zabrak’s not exercising either but standing completely still, feet slightly apart and arms raised in a poor imitation of a fighting pose. The claws on his hand and feet would be called neatly trimmed if Maul didn’t know intimately that this length means they’re cut so close to the bed that it irritates several internal nerves. The horns are filed too close as well, and they look blunt.

A fighting slave.

No. A pretend fighting slave.

Everything about him might look fearsome to one who does not know what to watch for, but he does not stand or dress or groom himself like a fighter.

It’s—it’s difficult for Maul to sort out his reaction. This is a zabrak, the first person like him he’s ever seen, but he’s also a mockery of the warrior he trains so hard to become. Are all other zabraks like this? Does Maul look like this to other people? Flimsy and fake? It is almost enough to be ashamed of the association, and Maul is glad that with his clothes no-one else here can guess at their shared species.

“Welcome,” the unchained human next to the zabrak shouts, and Maul cranes his neck but apparently it’s addressed to him. “What are you looking for? A nightly companion? A gladiator? A—”

“This is not a gladiator,” Maul growls.

“Ah, well, he’s versatile,” the slaver says. “Do you see his muscles?” He squeezes the other zabrak’s biceps. The zabrak does not react. “He is excellent at bearing pain as well,” and alright, Maul will give him that. From this close, he can see the faint network of scars.

“He’s truly a wild beast when you want him that way,” and if to contradict him—the first time Maul feels anything approaching pride at their kinship—the zabrak refuses to bare his teeth, even when the human slaps him in the face twice and then prods him with something bearing electric sparks. Still, the zabrak will not relent. He’s breathing and moving but somewhere deep in his eyes he looks nothing short of dead.

“I have business elsewhere,” Maul stutters out and the vocoder smooths it into a low growl. The queasy pit in his stomach must be the return of the eels, or else the force aims to reveal to him that he might be being observed by fleets of holodroids, a technological wonder he should research immediately upon completion of his mission, when he will never think of the scar-covered zabrak and his empty eyes ever again. He won’t even remember his face or his color. No, Maul will attempt to engineer holodroids and present them to his Master, who will be proud.

That’s what he thinks about, while he wanders the huge room at random. Holodroids. He doesn’t think about zabraks. In fact, he’s forgotten every fact he ever heard about that species. No zabraks exist but Maul. That’s the way it goes.

He doesn’t think of zabraks at all for several more minutes, and then a tannoy system message calls out for Ma Goweelr and his time of floating is over.

⁂

Thus far, the boy’s little adventure has been a disappointment. There were moments of fear and shame and misery, but mostly, what Sidious receives from him is bright giddy elation at being entrusted with this mission. It should have figured that Maul is not intelligent enough to see through his Master’s true plans, and yet—it was folly on his part, Sidous is prepared to admit that, but he expected more of his little zabrak.

Well. More agony, mostly.

He’ll have to be a little more patient. Someday soon, Maul’s luck will have to run out.

⁂

“This is her, Sir. Opening the cell now,” a woman says in front of the suddenly-bright cell, and Eldra’s hard-won, tattered, wide-eyed serenity dissipates.

It’s Dilar. Dilar, self-loathing traitor of a twi’lek slave. Eldra’s only known her for a day and enjoyed exactly zero seconds of it. The old woman’s hatred and revulsion at what she is forced to do, preparing slaves to be sold on, crowds out the very air. For the slavers, her utter loathing might be imperceptible—Dilar is a grudging, but polite tool—but it’s everywhere in the force, and Eldra cannot breathe. It’s hard enough keeping herself calm—keeping herself Jedi—when she knows that any time now a lecher with a Jedi fetish will come to her cell.

A lecher, or her rescuer.

Watch your feelings: do not give in to despair, Eldra, as Fyaar would say if she could. Maybe a Jedi will come.

It’s a war inside her, equal parts of hope and terror, and without her Master’s guidance how will Eldra find the strength to make herself calm again? Calm, serene, like the Jedi she was supposed to be.

A Jedi is better than this.

There is no emotion. There is peace.

There is no hatred, especially. Eldra should not hate Dilar. She shouldn’t hate every single slaver in the entire world, with even deeper depths of seething odium reserved for anyone selling or buying her. She shouldn’t. She does.

She isn’t wearing a force-suppressant collar, but that doesn’t matter. There are things far more binding than chains, than collars, in this world: Eldra promised her Master that she would be strong. She promised. She promised, and she hates these slavers. If she reached for the force now, she wouldn’t be able to call herself Jedi anymore. She would fail her Master and lose herself.

She would use her hatred to kill her tormentors. She would tear their throats out.

She would Fall.

Fear, raging and cold, has been her only companion for uncounted waking days now, that and bitter loathing. Master Fyaar died in front of her. Eldra’s been stripped of everything she thought she was and turned into a commodity, and now the only bright spot in her life is the fact that Martrey Woobudg the slaver, slaver, slaver who brought them to Teth is also fucking dead. Hopefully, it hurt.

The sudden hope is new, fragile and staggering and still too volatile to make reaching for the force safe. Hope: maybe the new arrival isn’t one of them. Eldra’s Master was in constant contact with the Temple, after all, and they must know about the ambush by now. They must have sent someone to save Eldra. (She tries very very hard not to remember that they don’t, sometimes, search for missing padawans, because of deferring to a higher purpose and the will of the force and being instruments of the Galactic Senate and not privileging attachments, including to their padawans, over the greater good et cetera et cetera, which is a code of conduct that Eldra, too, had always believed in. Until she got thrown in this cell, at least.)

Please, let it be a Jedi. Even if she gets thrown out for her hatred. Please, let it be a Jedi.

“Get up, girl,” Dilar says.

Eldra struggles onto her feet. She almost loses her balance, and that would kriffing hurt, because she’s got little chance of breaking her fall. Her hands are cuffed in front of her, encased in thin manacles she could easily break out of if it wasn’t pointless. If she wasn’t watched at all times. If she could use the force without Falling. If there was any way off this planet she doesn’t even know the name of. She could break them, but she can’t. They’re tight, and her shoulders ache from the forced immobility. (Almost, she’d told the slavers that restraining someone like this for days on end was a sure way of causing muscle damage, that they were lowering her value—were hurting her, by treating her like this, but she’d reconsidered. It would probably count as ‘helping slavers’. She hopes instead that they lose all their captives to their own bad practices. Eldra will not help them, if it kills her.)

If her visitor is a slaver, they’ll probably enjoy the sight of her helplessness. If they’re a Jedi, there may be compassion, pity, judgment—they’ll feel how scared she is, and how close to breaking—and that’ll be even more embarrassing to deal with afterwards, but at least there will be an afterwards for her.

For a second, the force floods with pain. Anger. Then, the presence hides itself again. Doesn’t matter. She’s felt it.

A force user.

A… Jedi, then?

Would a Jedi… Eldra herself would be angry, if she saw anyone else treated the way she is now, no matter how hard she tries for serenity. Eldra isn’t a good Jedi though. She’s too scared for that.

She looks up. If the visitor is a Jedi, Eldra doesn’t recognize them. But that means nothing: they’re covered head-to-toe in layers of black fabric. They’re wearing some sort of mask that covers their lower face, too, and oversized mirrored-glass sunglasses, and gloves, and a cowled cloak and what looks like at least two shirts, one over the other. They look like a black ball with legs sticking out. They look like someone decided to dress up as the platonic concept of shady. They look ridiculous.

They’re very short as well. They’re about twice the height of Grandmaster Yoda, and shorter than pretty much everybody else that Eldra knows. Well… they could be Master Piell. Would Master Piell dress up like this, though? Would he come to rescue her? Would he… well, he wouldn’t feel like the visitor in the force. Even Piell is a Master of the High Council. He wouldn’t fall prey to emotions as easily as Eldra did. He would not fail the light.

The only bit of skin that Eldra can make out is the bridge of the nose, between the jaw-mask and those sunglasses. Red.

Whoever it is isn’t human.

It might give hope, but—whoever it is has already paid and they own Eldra now, they tell the slavers, in a deep and slightly mechanic voice.

Paid.

Own.

Not a rescue, then. The Jedi wouldn’t reward a slaver for abducting a padawan.

Eldra will not cry. Not because if does not befit a Jedi, because the Jedi didn’t come for her. Eldra remained faithful—barely—she didn’t give in to her hatred and fear, didn’t Fall… and no-one came to rescue her. She will never see the temple again. She’ll never watch those holovids with Bayro, and Bayro—will she even notice? Will she mourn Eldra? Or will she be relieved that the clingy kid is gone?

She won’t cry. She will not give Dilar or this new buyer the satisfaction.

The shielding of Eldra’s cell opens. Dilar attaches a chain to Eldra’s manacles and her buyer ties the other end to their belt. They barely look at her, at least—in the nightmares she refused to allow herself to grow into images they always looked at her, excited and hungry, but this buyer seems curt and weirdly business-like.

Without another word, they start walking.

Eldra has no choice but to follow. The Jedi didn’t come. She is alone. Whatever awaits her outside, though, it can hardly be worse than this cell.