#too many good moments in all the chapters to just pick one. runner up would be the last chapter of end of dragons

[friesian]

Imma need 8, 13, and 16! :3

@mystery-salad

HI FOX!!! i did 16 from someone else but i can do the other 2 >:)

8. Do you have any items you keep in your characters’ inventory for purely sentimental reasons?

I KEEP THIS MF THANG ON ME AT ALL TIMES!!!!!!

for realsies. i had the broken caladbolg in his inventory because BY GOD i knew that marwyd wouldn't just let that go. he wouldn't let ANYONE have that shit. i didn't know you could reforge it until i was like. half way through end of dragons (after also doing path of fire) and i INSTANTLY B-LINED to make this thing. i know if marwyd could remake it, he would. however i don't think he'd canonically have it in my story. instead, i like to think he still carries around the broken sword as a reminder. in return i keep caladbolg with me.

13. Do you have a favourite story episode (including expansion chapters)?

HMMMM. i don't know honestly, i don't know episodes well enough to really pin one down or remember the name/where its from. acursed bad memory issues.

BIG fan of any chapter you get to spend with canach tho. i bet if i could actually play whatever the fuck goes on in southsun cove it'd be an instant fave LOL.

i guess if i had to pick. the grenth moment in PoF. i got GOBSMACKED BY THAT SHIT!!! i'm not gonna go into too much details in case of spoilers but. GOD. [makes vague gestures] YAKNOW???

[jenn-the-butterfly]

New Chapter

“You were playing by the tower again weren't you?”

A steaming cup of kefin rested on the counter for a moment before being picked up and brought to the frowning mouth of Jenn, the vapor swaying as she blew on the surface before taking a wary sip. Her focus was riveted to the corner of the table which had been cleared of debris to allow the pair of twin computers to sit comfortably, their heads bowed with guilt at her accusation. From a distance, all of it was rather amusing to the observer seated at his spot at the other end of the kitchen, propped on one hand in an effort to ease and hide his still-aching head.

Moon had been caught unaware the moment Laa flew off without warning after he’d managed to restack the notes he’d knocked over when his hydrokinesis triggered–-everything was dry at least, leaving no trace of his episode. Little Twii was still charging, appearing asleep, so it felt odd her bonded pair would leave unprompted. It became clear when the dark blur returned shortly after, Jenn’s footsteps thudding in pursuit. Had it not been for his reflexes dragging him back from the doorway, they would have collided, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Now that Twii was charged enough to function, they were gathered in the kitchen, getting scolded for recklessness for something they clearly knew better about. Only Sun was absent for this ‘talk’, having been given a large bolt of material he wanted to take back to the exercise equipment for reasons Moon didn’t have the energy to fathom, leaving only himself to observe the goings-on of this bizarre family. The reassurance that nothing terrible was going to happen after seeing how she dealt with Rukbat’s disobedience was the only thing keeping him from trying to interfere in their favor.

Jenn took a deep, loud drink from her mug. “I’ve told you how many times now?” One of them squeaked, though which one wasn’t obvious to him. “Mm-hm. Every few months with you two, I have to remind you to stay away from the tower when it’s online. I know you know it drains power when you get too close to the generator, but clearly you don’t listen when I tell you. You’re lucky he was there to help.” Blue eyes flashed to him; the twins peered in his direction. “Did you say thank you?”

A chorus of cheeping followed her question.

He took this to be gratitude and nodded at them despite his head throbbing and a tickle running up his back. Reaching behind himself, Moon brushed his nape down to the spot between his shoulders, finding something stringy tucked into the hem of his shirt. Pinching it between his fingers and pulling, he wasn’t prepared for a long piece of grass to be the culprit. Must be from trimming, he figured, laying the wayward foliage on the table. Turning his focus back to the twins and their dressing down, he found them watching him curiously. “Yes?”

“You good?” Jenn asked, glancing at the grass on the table for a second.

“Just a tickle,” he assured, face tinting purple from embarrassment.

Switching back to the twins, Jenn took another long sip of kefin. “I don’t want to have to keep having this talk. That tower is held together by glue, wishes and spite. You two know the retainment field isn’t that great so it’ll draw power from anything near the turbine. You’re lucky you had enough charge to get away and that someone was around to help. Don’t do it again.”

At that, the pair floated off into the rafters, leaving Jenn to her cup of liquid caffeine and Moon to ignore the fact the tickle was persisting somewhere further down than his hemline.

“How many of those have you had?” he wondered, nodding toward the cup in her hands to distract himself from rummaging for more grass in his clothes.

“Like, today or…?”

His brow furrowed. “That’s not good for you, you know.”

“I didn’t say a number.”

“Which means you’ve had more than one.”

She sipped loudly, making defiant eye contact with him.

He grimaced a bit, the tickle distracting him from rebuttal by making his shoulder twitch.

Jenn noticed this, putting her cup down. “You sure you’re good?”

Another twitch he couldn’t hide cut him off before he could answer. “I…” Trying to shake loose whatever was touching him and failing, Moon grunted with defeat. “I guess not.” Giving up on subtlety, he reached under his shirt, running his fingers across his back–

–nothing.

“Sit still. Let me see.” Coming up behind the uncomfortable bot, Jenn placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to assure him she wasn’t up to anything nefarious. Though he wanted to protest, Moon waited to see if she could find the little nuisance giving him grief in the hope of being done with it and able to move on to other things such as dinner plans. An idea had come to mind he wanted to ask about but deigned to wait his turn until Jenn, having excused herself from returning to her adult playground by way of being tired, finished chastising her tiny computer companions. Once again, the darker brother was appreciative of, yet surprised by, her method of discipline and willingness to permit deviation and mischief without seeking to correct it at the source.

A bit suddenly, Moon felt his shirt lift up, bunching at his shoulders and leaving his back exposed; soft fingers traced down the seams of his shell, eliciting what almost felt like a chill from his surface sensors. Scraping and picking at spots of dirt he’d expected–-despite their supposed value, the technicians brought it to clean and care for them weren’t exactly considerate of their comfort or tolerance for certain types of physical touch-–but this was… unexpectedly nice. The roughest sensation was the feeling of her nail sliding along his spinal seam, accompanied by a thoughtful hum before she moved away.

“Looks like you’ve got some grassy bits stuck where it shouldn’t be. Hang tight, I’ve got something for that.”

Ah. The rough part hadn’t happened yet.

Moon adjusted his seat silently, facing himself backwards with arms folded to cradle his head against the backrest; a very faint sigh left him as he resigned himself to his fate to eliminate the persistent tickle once and for all. Jenn disappeared and reappeared quickly, carrying a tote box the size of a bread loaf that she placed on the table, first pulling out a bristled hand brush followed by an instrument that resembled a hook-ended needle with a fat, wooden handle perfect for the palm to apply force with.

This gave him some concern. “What’re–”

Not giving him a chance to voice his worry, Jenn returned to his blindspot and placed her knee at the edge of his seat, accidentally brushing his tailbone which made him tense again. Misreading his reaction, Jenn’s hand returned to his back to reassure the twitchy bot he was safe, being mindful to be soft and careful. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she spoke in a soothing tone. “Just relax.”

Being told to do so didn’t make it any easier as he knew only to brace for discomfort when being cleaned. First came the brush’s bristles–Moon waited tensely for the scratching and prickling to agitate his sensors, but what came instead felt more like a gentle cloth rubbing back and forth between his shoulders, working its way down in long, steady strokes. Next, focused pressure in small areas–-the chair creaked as Jenn leaned into it a bit, tracing the edges of his panels with the soft pads of her fingertips. The tingle returned, running through his system like warm water easing away his tension and the throbbing of his head as he sat, still waiting for something to hurt or poke him.

Jenn was careful, though, even while distracted. From the outset the human thought both brothers were beautifully crafted and designed, but taking the time to really appreciate the detail work hadn’t occurred to her as repairs couldn’t afford to be compromised by distracted ogling. Now, though, she could really take in the finer details–-the laser etched trim and sanded embossing work that made some parts of them shimmer in the right lighting. Clearly they were a labor of love for whomever put the effort in, even though that didn’t really make sense given what she’d learned about them.

Either they were repurposed or their maker really wanted to push the Goldlite quality to be believable under intense scrutiny.

Jenn held her breath in fear of marring the intricate work just by breathing too hard on it, the fine textures shallow to the point of smooth when touched–though they were much sturdier than they should be, figuring out the upper limit of their alloy wasn’t on her list of things she wanted answers for. Nor was it a good excuse to be sloppy. It took a bit of her willpower to return to her task, glad Moon couldn’t see her face redden from embarrassment. ‘A sucker for a well-built robot,’ she’d been told more than once by others who’d caught on to her inclination for “studying and admiring” synthetics-–to the point of distraction at times. Although it happened on occasion with kitchenware and weaponry for the same reasons, it was only ever acknowledged when the subject of her attention happened to be capable of noticing and pointing it out.

I can’t help that I like to admire art, she insisted, though her own mental voice sounded more like she was chastising herself.

Slowly and with great care, the hook was drawn through the hairline seams of the Moondrop’s shell, removing bits of grass and dirt that had gotten stuck, either from trimming or when he fell into the shrubbery. I should probably check the other one later, she noted to herself, turning the hooked awl side to side carefully to dislodge the bits tucked where the lateral plates met, forming the spinal division line. Once in a while, he would twitch, either between brushings or when the awl was moved to a new area. “Am I hurting you?” she asked the first time only to be met with a distracted grunt. “Am I?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Moon answered after another moment, seeming to be somewhere else mentally. Continuing the process, Jenn went on her way.

Yellow eyes boring a hole into the tabletop, Moon was grateful she couldn’t see his face change color as he came out of the fog he found himself in from the rhythmic, gentle touch of her hands at his back pushing him into a state of empty-headed relaxation. I completely spaced off, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, now acutely aware of where the awl’s hook was as it went about its merry way across his left side. At least the headache is gone. A faint chuckle kept him from drifting away again, the brush replacing the hook as Jenn dusted the debris off of him completely. “What?”

Hesitating a moment, she hadn’t realized she’d made a sound. “Just thinking.”

Moon did his best to fight the instinct to be suspicious of her dodgy answer. “You’re staring at my back with a tool in hand, I think I get to be curious what you’re thinking about when I can’t see you.”

A tired half-smile he couldn’t see twisted up one side of Jenn’s mouth, her head shaking slowly. “That’s exactly it. I’m just… amused, I guess? That you’re letting me work away at you literally behind your back and you’re not even giving me lip for it.”

Brow furrowed slightly, Moon turned his head just enough to catch her moving at the corner of his eye. “Should I be?”

A strange feeling settled somewhere between Jenn’s heart and her stomach, roiling and hard to ignore. Very gently, she tapped the tip of the hook against his shoulder so it made a metallic ting that got him to stiffen slightly. “Maybe you should be.” She removed the awl from his back, brushing it down with the bristled scrubber. “It would let me know you’re paying attention and not giving me free access to your blind spot.”

A new kind of tension squeezed the coils of Moon’s internal structure, raising caution at what she meant. He wouldn’t freely admit he wasn’t paying attention just a moment ago, but her tone held something that he couldn’t decipher as a warning, yet wasn’t quite a threat either. Not a normal one at least. Sitting up more while forming a response, something triggered the surface alert at his spine–a sensation of sharpness where his shoulders met made him freeze.

The hook’s tip pressed into the pressure point where Moon’s back plates met, the human holding herself carefully behind the instrument in such a way that she could shift forward and put her weight behind a jab that would crack between the seams and drive the awl into his wiring without much hassle. Any attempt to move would give her a chance to escape if he wasn’t quick enough, no amount of reach would grant a good angle to seize her–-he was trapped. Throwing himself back would only risk the awl piercing his shell regardless.

Be calm , he told himself, adamantly refusing to let panic overtake him. It took only a breath for that calmness to settle in, allowing his mind to formulate possible plans and rate their success in rapid succession.

“Take this as a bit of well-meaning advice,” Jenn spoke with an even tone, slowly easing back so the pressure of the hook lessened. “Don’t mistake hospitality for trustworthiness. Don’t drop your guard because someone offered you kindness. Never take words at face value.”

Voice hard, Moon couldn't help but comment, “I’m well aware of the last one.”

As suddenly as it started, the odd tension evaporated. Jenn fully relaxed away, the awl dropping from Moon’s shell entirely and taking the moment of bewildering strain with it. Water running, shuffling and curiosity prompted Moon to turn in his seat in an attempt to understand what just transpired between them but he only met Jenn’s displeased frown. Grabbing the back of his head, she turned him back manually, telling him to, “Sit still, I’m almost done,” as he protested.

A warm, wet rag ran the length of his back, confusing Moon further into vocalizing his thoughts. “What was all that?”

“Was what?”

The tone Jenn used told him she knew exactly what he meant. “The hook in my back. The warning. Or was it a threat?”

Jenn ‘hmph’ed while wiping him down meticulously. “I don’t give threats.”

“Then what was the point of that?” A slow, roiling anger was threatening to bubble up if he didn’t get a sufficient answer soon. Somehow, in some way, this human knew how to piss him off in ways he hadn’t thought of on his own.

Slowly, Jenn let out a breath to buy herself a moment to answer properly, her cleaning motions stopping briefly at Moon’s nape; a warm tingle crept across his shoulders that he fought off to keep his focus sharp. “Azil is many things, but ‘perfect’ is far from one of them.”

Head turning slightly again, Moon listened. The stroke of the rag started again and he hated how nice it felt.

“In a perfect world, people would be who they are at first glance, no mind games or meticulous lies padding out their actions to make you think they’re better than they are. You both have barely scratched the surface of what this world holds and your learning curve just got extremely sharp. Maybe I just don’t want you both making the same mistake I did.”

The cleaning finished but left Moon still confused, his anger evaporating as he rationalized her words. Just what did she mean by that? “I think in this case I didn’t have much choice. It’s not like I could have done it myself.”

“I’m sure your partner could.”

The phrasing bothered him. “Sun is my brother.”

“I know.” More shuffling as things were put away, Jenn briefly came into view on his left as she sealed the tote up and took it away. “He’s still a partner though. A companion. Unless you’re planning to go your separate ways–”

“No!” The word jumped out of him before Moon could help himself, earning a faint quirk of the human’s eyebrow. “I–we–”

Waving his fumble off with her hand, Jenn went on, “My point is, he’s the only one you should readily trust out there, and you,” she stepped toward Moon as he turned in his seat to face her, “need to make sure he’s not putting that trust so freely in others when you don’t even know their last name.”

The coiling feeling returned, harsher this time.

They didn’t know her last name.

Though he knew he could take her in a physical fight, Moon felt shamefully small as he was forced to tip his head up slightly to see the face of the human staring him down–if he didn’t know better he’d think her irises were glowing from how intensely she focused on him. Even with this, though, he couldn't detect a sense of hostility coming from her. Only a feeling that she needed him to understand something.

Something she wouldn’t say.

“Don’t let this world take advantage of your naivety, but don’t let it crush your kindness, either.”

Jenn turned away, shattering the moment just as Moon thought he was about to understand what she was saying between the lines. She moved to a cabinet across from him, reaching up to pull down a large bowl with her back to him, silent. Whatever it was that she’d been trying to say, it only made him annoyed–-the cryptic double-speak was bad enough from Vissara! Quickly and with as much silence as he could muster, Moon stood from his seat and took a step across the gap between them, extending his arm to drag her back and make her talk–-

“Think very carefully about what you’re about to do, Moondrop.”

Moon froze instantly, rerunning the last second to determine if he’d made noise or gave away his intentions by mistake-–he hadn’t even gotten close to her back! Adjusting his stance to be less aggressive, he said, “I’m not doing anything.”

Slowly, her head tilted to one side as if listening. “Sorry, then, for the assumption. I don’t like people moving around suddenly behind my back.”

How did she know? he wondered, squeezing his hand into a fist. I was perfectly silent. Was she actually anticipating me to grab her?

“What do you want for dinner?”

Moon’s thoughts ground to a halt. “What?”

Turning toward him, Jenn held up a bowl, seeming confused as if the last moments hadn’t just occurred and set him on edge. “Dinner? Third meal? You know–”

“I know what dinner is!” Snapping hadn’t been his intention, but being mocked while on the back foot from a bizarre conversation didn’t leave him feeling very pleasant. “I… wanted to ask you about that actually. That's why I sat down in the first place.” More and more he felt there was something wrong with this human that he couldn’t place. It was beginning to bother him on a level he didn’t have the energy to unpack.

“Well, that explains that I suppose. I was wondering why you were sitting there for so long. What did you have in mind?”

Whatever had passed between them had been buried already, gone before he could fully sort out the possible meanings of her actions, so Moon determined he’d need to look into it when he had time away from her intense gaze. For now, he focused on his original task: dinner plans. “What do you have for vegetables out here?”

“Depends what you want to make.”

With deliberate casualness, Moon flanked Jenn at the counter, his voice calm but they both had the other in sight as they sorted out what was available in the crowded kitchen, Moon refusing to be intimidated by the scrawny human and her cryptic statements. Even with his guard back up, he took the time to be mindful, making a comment whenever he stepped behind her or reached through her blind spot to find something. As they moved and maneuvered in the limited space, they settled their plans for dinner, Jenn putting a headphone in one ear at some point in their shuffling.

Maybe I over-thought it, the dark robot pondered, watching the human light her stove fire and begin chopping a round, leafy ball into wedges. Maybe she was just warning me about not standing at her back. It could be a reflex or something? He had his own share of innate reflexes after all–-proper falling, catching incoming projectiles such as balls or cups aimed at his head, things he didn’t think about before doing–-and living alone it would stand to reason she probably had one or two that could be just as unpredictable.

Then why not say it? the argumentative echo of his own voice insisted, trying to drag the persistent paranoia out of the corner he’d relegated it to.

Privacy was the first reason that he thought of, watching Jenn fill the bowl with shrubby bits that crunched under the blade of her kitchen knife. It’s not as if he were entitled to her entire life story, after all–-privacy made complete sense even. It was simply courtesy that she tried to warn him against triggering a possible stabbing reflex if he stood too close.

But that didn’t quite feel correct.

“Ahem.”

Blue eyes stared at him from the kitchen counter expectantly.

Distractedly, Moon responded, “Hm?? What??”

Jenn tipped her head, indicating the space next to her at the counter where a second bowl, full of roots this time, sat waiting to be peeled. “I’m not making this all by myself. You asked, you help.”

Quickly, he countered, “I don’t know how to cook,” but she was undeterred.

“Then get over here and learn. Better to start now than when you’re out in the wilds starving yourself.”

It was a good point but it didn’t stop his displeased groan.

~

Stretching from head to toe with a grunt, Sun paused at the top of the stairs, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that washed over him. A large grin crossed his face and his rays fluttered–-he’d managed to set up his own rig all on his own! And only fall once! Giddiness danced in his circuits, making it hard to stay still for long, but as he tried to calm himself just enough to not slip on the steps, his attention was drawn up, up, up to the sky. Beyond the treetops of blue and green the aurora shimmered and shone, its yellow glow scattering through the clouds as it always did, bathing everything in light that Sun felt almost guilty for not appreciating more until now.

While it was always yellow and green, once in a while the bright lights would twist and dip, turning any color of the rainbow they wanted with little notice. In part due to the tall buildings, viewing the sky from the estate was tricky even under the best of circumstances, but the gnawing guilt in his mind reminded the golden robot that he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to try in recent months. Partly due to the buildings… and partly due to being kept inside more and more as time went on.

But that wasn’t the case now.

If I wanted, I could stay out here all day and just watch the sky! The idea was amusing and tempting, but more so the thought of laying down and resting had won the bid for his attention. Between the sheer fright of Jenn’s gymnastics skills and his own tumble to the ground when the knot he first used gave out–which Moon was not going to find out about–there had been quite enough excitement for him for the day.

Though it begged the question, where was Jenn anyway? She’d claimed she was tired-–rightfully so after her little stunt!--but there had been a rather lacking amount of Moon in the area as well. Hopefully he was behaving.

Amongst the comfortable thoughts of accomplishment and sky viewing, Sun felt a weight, hidden below the surface like a fish lurking in a muddy pond. It tore his attention from the sky–-was that a flicker of orange? No. Was it? Shaking his head, Sun turned toward the patio, walking himself inside before he could get completely off track.

There had to be a way to make Moon calm down. Yes, that was it. Be it stress from the ordeal or Sun’s own mistakes, he was determined to make this… situation as easy on them as possible. It was his job now. His purpose. There was no more Vissara, no parties and schedules needing completion-–his only priority was Moon’s well-being.

Only Moon’s.

At the back of his mind was a whisper he couldn’t quite make out. The feeling evaded words, but protested whenever he affirmed his dedication to maintaining his brother’s mental health, as if trying to correct him. Why, though? It was simple.

They were leaving eventually. Moon would be his only concern. Jenn was being hospitable–

Would she be lonely when they left?

The clarity of the feeling as it finally revealed itself made Sun stop short in the hallway, stunned at his own thought process. Moon’s words and warnings about not getting attached still hummed somewhere at the fringes of his mind like a search tab left playing in the background, and no amount of thinking about a future far, far from the reach of E’rta city managed to bolster him against the worry that seeped in between the cracks. It’s what I’m made to do, the golden bot tried to tell himself even though he knew he shouldn't be trying to justify it any further. I’m made for humans. It’s… natural to become attached. Taking a deep breath, Sun pushed through the second half of that thought. So it will take more work not to do that. I only have to worry about Moon. I should only worry about Moon.

The clatter of dishware drew him from his affirmations and brought him back to the moment. Someone was in the kitchen! As he neared, he heard more noises–oddly familiar ones at that. Quiet but bouncing, melodic… singing? It was faint, as if done under one’s breath with no music, but it was definitely singing. Leaning behind the door frame, Sun tried to listen more closely between the clang and rattle of kitchen goings-on.

“Like this?” Moon’s voice.

Jenn’s next, the soft melody stopping. “Yep, just like that.”

“This stuff smells odd.”

“You mean delicious.”

Baffled, Sun continued to listen. Was Moon… cooking? Taking instructions? From Jenn?

“Oh, do you know this one?” Jenn again.

There was a pause, then Moon answered. “You listen to The Polifias?”

Jenn chuckled. “Wow, even by name. I’m impressed.”

“Orchestral techno has its moments. They happen to be most of them.”

“You can just say you like them.”

Instead of replying, Sun only heard the faint hum of Moon’s voice as he listened along to a silent song Sun faintly recognized.

They were getting along.

He couldn’t help the grin on his face, a feeling of warm relief filling his chest–-he had to actively dampen the glow that welled up in case it got their attention. Of course it would be music that makes Moon feel at ease!

Another sound of things moving and clanking, followed by Jenn sighing with accomplishment. “There, all done. We should go get him now, make sure he hasn’t hurt himself.”

Tensing a moment, Sun straightened and scrambled back from the entryway. Eavesdropping was bad!

“He’ll be fine, he’s more–” Moon rounded the gap and jumped–Sun jolted in kind, the pair staring at each other for a moment. “How long–” Shaking his head quickly, Moon composed himself. “When did you get in?”

Jenn poked her head around the corner as Sun gestured toward the door, trying to sound confused and natural. “Just now…? I heard talking and came to see what was happening.”

A friendly smile flashed across Jenn’s face, her hands busy wiping themselves on a kitchen rag. “Perfect timing, sunshine. Dinner is hot.”

“Dinner??”

So faint he’d almost missed it, Sun caught a glimpse of Moon seeming pleased with himself as he stepped to the side and gestured for his brother to come in. Sun did so, switching his olfactory sensors on–-the smell was intense and fragrant but incredible, catching him off guard and putting his Re_cycle system into overdrive. He was so used to having his sense of smell turned off by default–-everything in the estate was overwhelmingly perfumed for some reason he couldn’t understand-–that he’d completely missed the spicy, warm, peppery smell of something roasted over a fire. Yum!

Jenn seemed amused by his awestruck staring as she took her seat–still a pile of papers–and said, “It was all your brother’s idea.”

“It’s also my fault if it tastes bad,” Moon added on, trying to hide how sheepish he felt about his first attempt at cooking. That didn’t matter so much to Sun as he squeezed his brother in an elated hug, praising him for his efforts so enthusiastically, it made Jenn laugh quietly.

They’re good boys, she said to herself, watching Moon trying in vain to push his brother off of him but Sun’s longer reach made it impossible. I hope they stay that way.

After the invisible praise quota was filled, the pair of bots pulled up their chairs, Sun launching into the details of how he set up his new practice swing-–minus the bit about falling of course.

~

Bright eyes peered through the dimmed room from the edge of a large mattress; on either side sat the Stardusts, with the head of Rukbat between them. It wasn’t a good sleep time. Mother was restless. He wanted to wake her, but Laa kept the canine quiet with her small hand on his snout. Waking mother was bad, Rukbat knew, but her whimpering hurt.

Mother didn’t let them connect to her when she slept. No commands came through. It was quiet.

Twii made a faint sound, also being silenced by her sister with a look. So odd, these two. Rukbat knew they were not like himself–like the large Aquila. They understood mother in ways he never did. Never could. It saddened him that he couldn’t grasp why waking mother from her bad sleep wasn’t allowed. Mother got mad sometimes, but that wasn’t new! Mother hunted when she was mad. Hunting made for good dinner for good boys.

Rukbat was a good boy.

Mother tossed again, grabbing the blanket with her hand. The shiny arm was put away tonight. ‘Foreign’, mother had called it. Sometimes she did that when her shiny arm didn’t feel good; he wasn’t allowed to play with it when she did. That made Rukbat a bad boy.

But sitting was boring. He wanted to sleep but mother had kicked him when her bad sleep started–never her fault! It didn’t hurt, but the soft, nice bed wasn’t comfy when she had bad sleep. Twitching, rolling, sometimes she spoke–not nice things, nonsense things, noises from the forest. Mother was somewhere else in her bad sleep that he couldn’t see.

Oh, how he wanted to help!

The pattern of mother’s breathing changed. Ears perking, Rukbat put a paw on the bed. She would wake soon! Twii made another sound, concerned; she bowed her head and leaned, tapping her sister's chin. Laa pressed back, eyes locked on her mother.

Sure enough, with a sharp gasp Jenn sat bolt upright, half-coughing. Immediately, the trio rushed her, tongue licking and heads butting with concern and care. It was familiar and reassuring to Jenn to have them there, to recognize she was home when the fringes of deep sleep still painted her vision in a mix of dream and reality. “Guess it’s a crap sleep kind of day,” she mused shakily, grateful for the pressure of her twins on either side of her neck and her canine’s head in her lap.

It was bad enough falling asleep at all was a chore, the feeling of ‘too much energy’ in her body making her restless from the outset, her legs twitching or itching. Even removing her false arm didn’t curb the sensation, meaning it wasn’t because of that thing drawing power this time. “Figures,” she went on, voice creaking with fatigue while she got out from under her sheets. “The one time I want to sleep and it's being a little bracht about it.”

For a moment she considered going to make a drink but Twii blinked her facial screen, displaying the time and dashing those plans. If she woke up the other two, they’d likely get on her about her bad sleep habits and that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have today. Or ever.

“Welp. Nothing a bit of light reading won’t fix, right?”

Crawling over her mattress haphazardly with only one arm, Jenn pulled herself onto the stacked cube shelves that served as a headboard, placed one taller than the next along the wall nearly up to the ceiling. Rukbat whined, waiting for a command, which she gave-–”Follow”-- as she climbed the shelves to the gap where a faint seam was visible among the ceiling tiles. Reaching up, Jenn found the flush handle and pushed it in, opening a panel that formed a ramp into the crawl space above.

Human, Stellis and Stardusts ascended the hidden passage, turning down the dark, low corner until it opened up again. Under the eaves, hidden and taking up the majority of the house’s size was Jenn’s favorite room–-her personal library; carpeted with random bits of salvaged or woven rugs, her footfalls were muted as she stood straight in the center of the room. The near wall was lined with sturdy, heavy shelves, each lined in turn with tomes and bound sheafs of paper of topics and tales that couldn’t be easily categorized or had yet to find space in the other more accessible spots scattered through the house-–the kitchen had cooking and canning books, the lounge had fiction and entertainment, and her lab had the relevant texts at the ready. Up here, though, was everything else-–and bits of the rest thrown in simply because they didn’t fit on the shelves otherwise.

The far wall had a panel of flexscreen pulled down, programmed into the video feed of the only surveillance camera that still worked on the property, providing a perfect outside view of the yard, the top of Aquila’s roost and the canopy. It helped keep the sloping roof from feeling claustrophobic, she felt. An old, beaten desk took up the wall to her right, nestled in the center of the shelves containing her personal works–-what she was able to organize of them, anyway. The myriad other piles of papers scattered across the floor below had yet to make their way up here. It would probably do her some good to fix that sometime.

Not yet, though. One of those piles was her only seat at the table, so until her guests left and she got her chairs back, they would remain-–like the gray, staticy feeling that hazed her as she pulled out her desk chair to thumb through the papers that were already sitting out. Kinda wish I could just take a bath and be done with it, Jenn thought sternly, glad the papers were what she wanted and she didn’t have to get up again. Unfortunately, mental dust didn’t go away with a scrub or a soak like grime on the body.

Rukbat readily curled up under the desk, in the perfect spot for her to rub his back absently with the bottom of her foot. The twins found ways to entertain themselves on the desk or floor, often chasing bugs or each other as Jenn worked; today was no different, Twii engaging in a game of tag before Jenn had even settled fully. What those two did to entertain themselves during the day was a mystery to her, even after so long, but seeing them happy and thriving was all she needed to know to be content.

It’s been… about three years, hasn’t it? the human pondered, watching as Laa got an advantage by darting behind a book stack to get away from her sister, hiding underneath the shelf below. I’d say time flies but it definitely feels like that long. Longer, sometimes.

She sighed, surprising herself.

Grunting, “Bah,” she turned to the stack of papers once more, rereading the notes she’d placed the last time she was there.

Part way through her review, the intrusive thoughts began.

It’s odd they warmed up so quickly to the Sunrise, but kind of nice too.

Jenn nodded to herself. It was nice, indeed. Almost no one came out this way at all; in fact, she could count on one hand the number of people who even knew where she was to begin with. The twins only liked two of them.

I wonder if they’re online?

Hesitating, Jenn took a breath and gave a quick, “Hey,” to the girls, getting their attention before Laa could pounce on her sister. “Twii, c’mere.”

Chirping happily, the pink blur came over immediately. She hovered, giving a somersault in the air before settling in Jenn’s upturned hand.

“Check my contacts quick?”

A cone of light appeared from the central display node of the Stardust’s facial disk, coalescing from particles of light into a legible screen showing a display from a forum page. Gesturing through the prompts, Jenn navigated to her contacts page, then to her priority column. Only two names were displayed, their statuses underneath showing they were ‘unavailable’.

WKYD3Z7: status–offline (last seen: 46 days ago)

The status line below their name read “bzy in scrap cntry”. Jenn could only guess what was taking so long out that way but it wasn’t unusual for this one to be wandering dead zones where the signal towers didn’t reach so there was no helping it.

The second contact was the concerning one.

MSKBD1X: status–offline (last seen: 126 days ago)

Two-and-a-half months. The status line only read the default “unavailable”.

It’s not like he’s never been offline this long before, Jenn assured herself, but it didn’t stop the worry.

It never stopped the worry.

“Thanks, Twii.” The screen faded away, Twii peeping curiously at her mother who gave her gentle chin scratches in thanks. “Don’t worry about it, just… hoping they’re both alright.”

Jenn allowed her pink child to return to their game, feeling the fingers of concern and isolation drag themselves through her mind-–she shook her head vigorously, which disturbed Rukbat from his nap. “Ah, sorry, bud.” Unbothered, the canine gave her knee a lick and rolled over, pressing his weight into her foot comfortingly. “At least I have you all…”

Yet, she sighed again, laying the papers on her desk.

The intrusive thoughts hadn’t stopped.

At least they can’t leave me.

Jenn squeezed her hand into a fist, grimacing. Not again.

I hope the girls won’t be too sad when the boys leave.

Hand on her thigh, Jenn stared at the papers, trying to force herself to read the notes.

They obviously really like the Sunrise. He’s very kind.

Her nails dug into her skin, trying to get the thoughts to quiet.

Maybe if I offered, they’d want to stay–?

A raw, red flare of lines appeared as Jenn’s nails scraped across her thigh, successfully jarring her from the spiral that nearly got her. “Ow…” Hissing between her teeth at the soreness, she adjusted her seat slightly to rest her head in her hand over the desk. “Knock it off,” she said quietly. “You did it to yourself by looking on the network.” Twii and Laa peeked out from the bookshelf, hearing the grumbling. “Just… be patient. Who cares if those boys want to leave? Soon, you’ll have a companion just like them who won’t want to go anywhere and who you can trust… hopefully… You’ve lasted this long. What’s another year? Or two?” Slowly, Jenn sank onto the desk, forehead pressed into the crook of her elbow; her throat hurt, making her voice crack. “Just be… patient.”

Concerned, the twins exchanged looks before floating down, circling their mother’s hunched form as it quivered, her breath shaking.

It had been a long time since they’d last seen their mother cry-–but there wasn’t anything they could do to help.

… was there?

[halothenthehorns]

Pick 10 ships without looking at the questions before

Just something I found and decided to kill an hour to do:

1. FierroChase (Alex Fierro and Magnus Chase, Gods of Asgard)

2. Wolfstar( Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, Harry Potter)

3. Captain Swan (Killian Jones and Emma Swan, Once Upon a Time)

4. Gallavitch (Micky Milkovich and Ian Gallagher, Shameless)

5. Nominita (Nomi Marks and Amanita Caplin, Sense8)

6. Korrasami (Korra and Asami Sato, The Legend of Korra)

7. EBay (Emmet Bletso and Bay Kennish, Switched at Birth)

8. Spitfire (Artemis Crock and Wall West, Young Jusitce)

9. Charlie Epps and Amita  Ramanujan (Numb3rs, Not a popular enough show to have a ship name to my disappointment)

10. Ash Redfern and Mary-Lynnette Carter (Night World, Same as above)

Question 1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6?

I got the vibe right from the start where Korra only kept writing to Asami and nobody else, and was pleased as punch how the show hinted at them becoming a thing at the end, then whooped out loud when the show runners confirmed it after it was done

Question 2. Have you ever read a FanFiction about 2?

(Insert hysterical laugh and gestures at 90% of what I read in my free time)

Question  3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr avatar?

No, but mostly because I prefer images to couples

Question  4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what would your reaction be?

Ebay, They did break up! And I was not happy with it! I am still salty at how this ship ended and am convinced they would have gotten back together if the show kept going!

Question 5.  Why is 1 so important?

Alex Fierro was my spirit animal the moment he/ she was introduced, a shape shifter with an attitude, but a genuine person. What you see is what you get. Magnus being instantly in love with her/ him was my reaction too, and Alex deserves someone as wholesome and special as Magnus Chase

Question  6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?

Numb3rs, Oh it’s plenty serious, the show centers on their relationship a good chunk of the time and ends with their wedding and they’re so cute together in every scene. The episode where Amita is kidnapped, (Angels and Devils) still shocks and breaks my heart for Charlie every time I watch it.

Question  7. Out of all of your ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry?

Ugh, define chemistry?! I love all of these ships for the same reason in each, I love how they care for each other. In every ship I can identify one moment that makes my heart swell seeing them together in cannon and always puts a smile on my face.

If you mean chemistry as an explosion though, gun to my head forced answer, I pick Gallavitch

Question  8. Out of all of the ships, which ship has the strongest bond?

Ash and  Mary-Lynnette or Wolfstar, both have this soulmate eternal bond thing going for them where they can love other people but were meant to be together in every way and always find their way back

Forced answer, Ash and  Mary-Lynnette, since they’re literal soulmates rather than metaphorical ones

Question  9. How many times have you read/watched 10’s fandom?

A good dozen times in the past, but not recently. I read Nightworld in my teen years and quickly grew obsessed with the idea of soulmates, I already loved apocalypse end of the world type things plus supernatural themes, and it was the first ever reading the books fanfic I tried to do, but stopped for the same reason I haven’t reread it in a long time, the last book was never written! And at this rate probably never will be. I’m just still so smitten with every single soul mate in these nine books, Ash and  Mary-Lynette just rank number one of all of them

Question 10. Which ship has lasted the longest?

I’m not sure what answer it’s after here? In chronological years of the show, I think Gallavitch would win, despite being on and off so long they lasted years together and ended up together at the end. The show of these with the longest run time is also Shameless, so that one by default I guess, though FierroChase is immortal even having only three books, so they’d win long term?

If it’s asking which I’ve shipped the longest, Wolfstar, back when I first read PoA. I’ve read The Servant of Lord Voldemort more times than anybody can count and their scenes together cemented themselves as my first pairing as far back as I can remember before I was intentionally shipping anything, Remus and Sirius were always together from that moment on.

Question  11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up?

Well Korrasami was only confirmed off screen after the show ended, so none technically, but I don’t believe in perfect couples who never have a disagreement so realistically it’s bound to happen at least once in their happily ever after

Question  12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?

Wolfstar or Spitfire?

Depends on if magic is allowed in this zombie apocalypse. If Remus and Sirius are Muggles, sorry boys, Artemis and Wally (even in this totally human scenario where he’s not a speedster) Artemis would kick enough ass to save her boo to win

If they were all at their normal badass capacity? It’s a fair 50/50 shot for both. You’d have to do a Death Battle going over every iota of detail to pick a winner.

Question  13. Did 7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason?

EBay sort of started as s secret so Bay wouldn’t hurt Daphne’s feelings, but after that no. In my head after the show, when Travis didn’t come home from Japan after the third time because of scheduling issues, Bay would have run back to Emmet and cheated on Travis to be together with him again and they would have hid that until it came out and she was back together with him. Not a nice, neat ending, but what I think would have inevitably happened.

Question  14. Is 4 still together?

Gallavich is a Yes! Married! Thinking about kids! (Like Yevginny doesn't exist and is never mentioned again? Which the show ignores but not the point!)

Question  15. Is 10 canon?

Ash and Mary-Lynette are sort of, yes, mostly absolutely, though not currently together do to personal reason the characters are working through :(

Question  16. If all ten ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win?

Ugh, way to many factors to consider with the varying degrees of powers going on in some of these. 

If they were all human, again I like Artemis Crock’s chances of survival since she is already human and badass in a world of superhero's and basically another set of Katniss and Peta going on here.

Kilian has a decent chance of him and Emma winning for the same reason if you strip her Savior powers since they’re so resourceful as humans.  

Alex and Magnus are basically a parallel (sometimes gender swapped) Peta and Katniss too on the scale going on here so they’d be scary contenders without their enerji boost.

Micky and Ian might have never had to survive outside the south side, but Ian’s got some minor military training and Micky’s just a terrifying brutal person with a blessed heart, so another insane match to beat. Those are my top four at minimum. 

Question  17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship?

Nomi’s own parents! And Whispers can burn in hell where he belongs!

Question  18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond?

All. Of. Them. I have limited obsessions and you cannot fight me on their existence. The order that I go through each fandom is above.

Question  19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page?

CaptainSwan; I would if there was more content :( Sadly I got here a lot late after the show was long done so there’s not much new

Question 20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break them all up forever, which ship would you sink?

I regret this entire experience just for this question, but if I must, Korrasami. I only have my own head cannon content to keep them together and I won’t sacrifice what I do have for the others for something I can reinvent after this evil witch leaves

[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The First Year

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapters will have additional warning when necessary.

Tag list ( let me know if you want to be tagged or removed idk haha) @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia

//////////////////////////////////

Part I - The First Year

Hogwarts will be fun was the first thought you had when you opened the letter in your hands.

Tony, your older brother, ruffled your hair slightly as he came down into the kitchen and watched you open the mail.

"Your letter finally arrived, huh, little witch?" He joked with a smile as he sat down at the table. 

"I can't wait to go!" You commented excitedly rereading the acceptance letter for the third time.

"Miss, after coffee, can we go to diagonal alley if you like?" Jarvis, your butler, asked you politely as he poured Tony's coffee making you hesitate slightly. Tony, who had his eye on you, forced a smile as he patted you on the arm.

"I'll go with you, don't worry." He assured and you nodded.

"I wish dad would come." You grumble as you sit down and Tony sighs.

" Yeah, me too." He says. "But you know he's busy, and we can't leave it to the last minute."

You mumble in agreement as you serve some sweetbreads on your plate.

Eating in silence for a few moments, you are startled slightly when Tony lets out an exclamation.

"Damn, I forgot to write back to Steve." He announces getting up and walking over to the next shelf where there were some stationery and pen.

"Your boyfriend will be upset." You tease lightly, and Tony mumbles softly without responding.

When he finishes writing the letter, he goes to the kitchen window and opens the metal, whistling loudly in a familiar rhythm. A few seconds later, Iron, his barn owl lands in front of him. Tony stroked the animal gently before dangling the letter in his paws.

" Please take this to Steve, Iron." He ordered and the animal made a noise before flying away again.

"Jarvis, I'll get ready to go." You tell the man as soon as you finish eating and head off toward the stairs.

//-//

Diagonal Alley is a noisy place.

Tony asked you to walk beside him, but you stopped walking at the first Quidditch shop you spotted, and he had to turn back halfway when he noticed you were no longer beside him.

"Don't do that." He warned, mildly annoyed, but you glazed over at the exposed broom in front of you, and he let out a chuckle when he noticed. "Come on, Y/N, you already have a broom."

"But that's no ordinary broom." You retorted with an impressed look. "It's a Nimbus 2000, it's the fastest broom there is."

"You have the 99, I don't understand the difference." He retorted with his hands in his pockets and you shrugged.

"Tony, can we buy it?" You asked pleadingly, making your brother laugh slightly.

"Let's buy your stuff first please" He retorted with a smile and you grumbled but accepted the arm he offered for you to hang on. Jarvis walked behind you with a keen eye on your surroundings.

After you had bought the vast majority of your supplies and replenished your stocks of potions items for Tony, Jarvis took you to Blossoms and Blurbs to buy this year's books.

"Good morning! Hogwarts, third and first year books, please." You heard Jarvis tell the clerk who approached you three. Tony nodded his head signaling you to feel free to walk around the bookstore in the meantime, and that is exactly what you did.

You found many interesting books in the place as you walked among the shelves. One in particular caught your attention, as there seemed to be little miniature magical creatures trying to jump out of the cover, and you grabbed it on a table, watching the item carefully.

You smiled when an ink dragon jumped into your hand, moving your head as if you were looking around. Distracted by the book, you let out a low exclamation when someone bumped into you.

"Sorry, kid." You heard a female voice speak in a humorous tone. It is a girl taller than you, short red hair. "I ended up tripping over some of those runner books."

"It's okay." You said with a smile. The girl looked at the one book in your hands for a moment.

"Do you enjoy creature tracts?" She asks casually as she reaches for a book on the bookshelf beside her.

"I don't know yet." You say and she looks at you slightly confused, "I never studied."

"Ah, first-year." She understands and you nod in agreement. "Hogwarts too or some other?"

"Hogwarts." 

"Cool, I guess I'll see you there then." She says. "I'm from Slytherin, third year."

You let out a surprised exclamation.

"Maybe you know my brother." You say and the girl takes her gaze from the books in her hand she was checking to look at you with her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "His name is Tony Stark, he's also from your house."

The girl lets out a short laugh.

"I can't believe you are Stark's sister." She says. "We're not exactly friends, but I've seen him around the dorm several times. And your brother is a pain in the ass, by the way."

You laugh lightly, agreeing.

"I am Natasha Romanoff." She introduces herself next, balancing her books in one hand to greet you. You introduce yourself with a gentle smile. "Good luck with your books." She says before turning away.

You think it's cool that you already know someone besides your brother before you start at Hogwarts.

//-//

Buying your wand is a rather strange experience.

Mr. Ollivander has a glint in his eye as if he knows everyone's secrets, and seems to disappear and reappear in his store very easily.

Tony sat on one of the stools while he waited for you, and Jarvis went to buy something for you two to eat.

After trying almost five wands, and exploding a glass vase when he tried the last one, Mr. Ollivander sighed.

"Sorry, I don't know why it's not working." You asked feeling nervous, but he smiled.

"Don't worry, dear." He said. "Difficult customers are so much fun." 

He walked back in between the shelves after that, and then reappeared with three new packages.

"I remember when Howard Stark bought his wand." He told smiling nostalgically as you opened one of the packages, a black wand in front of you. "Phoenix, Cedar, slightly flexible."

"Dad has changed wands thousands of times." Added Tony wryly, but Mr. Ollivander didn't seem to mind.

The wand you tested let out a faint spark when you tried to cast a simple conjuration spell, and the man in front of you was quick to take it from your hand the next second.

"I think I have a better idea." He announced turning around, and then climbed the ladder supported by the wall, picking up a package at the top.

"Try this one dear." He asked handing you a dark wand, the wood was shiny, a color you didn't know exactly what it was, but it was beautiful. 

When you grabbed the item, you felt a tingling sensation spread throughout your hand, and the wand vibrated slightly for a few seconds, causing Ollivander to let out a noise of excitement.

"You see, I knew I would find an owner for you dear." He spoke and you realized that he was speaking with the item in your hands. Soon he turned his gaze back to you. "Take good care of this one, will you, it was quite difficult to get dark elf blood for the core."

"R-right." You said with a slight frown, not quite sure what to make of that information.

Tony laughed lightly at the interaction, he should be used to Mr. Ollivander's eccentric manner by now, since he kept breaking his wands just like your father and often returned to the store to get a new one.

After paying, you and Tony met Jarvis outside, he was carrying some sweet rolls.

//-//

July ended too quickly for your happiness. You were very eager to go to school.

You spent most of August at home, playing quidditch with Tony in the backyard, curiously reading the magic books you bought, and trying to peek into the basement where your father worked, but he always caught you looking and smiled, asking you to go back to your room.

You would like your father to take you to the station, but he said he had a magic conference in September, and would be traveling for the next few weeks. Tony was upset, but he put his arm around your shoulders and asked you to hurry to get your bags.

When you finally got to the station, you were slightly nervous about going through a wall, but Tony laughed, and showed you how to go first.

You hugged Jarvis good-bye before following your brother along the way.

Tony dragged you across the train cars to the first empty cabin he could find. He commented that it would be nice if you made your own friends, but that he would like you to sit with him.

So here you were, sitting with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, Tony's best friends since the first year. The boys smiled encouragingly at you. You already knew them, because Tony kept inviting them to spend holidays with him all the time.

"Hey, Y/N, how was your vacation?" Steve asked as soon as you sat down next to him. You shrugged, saying that it was nice, but that you were looking forward to attending Hogwarts.

Soon the boys started talking about what they were excited about next year, and you did your best to keep up, not knowing exactly who the people they mentioned were, or knowing the classes they talked about.

Many minutes after the train was moving, a girl opened the cabin door.

"Hey, strangers." She greeted with a smile. 

"Hi Peggy." Steve said with a smile, you frowned at the slight scowl on your brother's face.

"They're calling for us in the prefects compartment, Steve." She warned and Steve nodded, getting up. He and the girl then left, and Tony crossed his arms.

"What's wrong?" You asked noticing his posture and the way Bucky had a little smile on his face.

"It's nothing." Grumbled your brother, and as he turned his face to the window, Bucky who was standing in front of you, whispered to you.

"Tony thinks Peggy likes Steve." He recounted. "So he doesn't like Peggy very much."

"Oh." You said, pretending to understand the whole plot. It didn't make much sense to you because everyone couldn't be friends, but you figured that when you were your brother's age you would understand better.

//-//

The Hogwarts Express only stopped at night.

Properly uniformed, you smiled when your brother patted you on the shoulder, telling you that he would meet you at the castle, since the first-year students had to go by boat.

Your hands were sweating a little as you walked up to the extraordinarily tall man who introduced himself as Drax.

"First-year students, please, six in each boat." He shouted to the crowd, and the students moved closer together.

You sat in one of the first little boats, five other children you didn't know surrounding you.

"I'm so excited." A blonde girl commented cheerfully, waving her hands. She smiled at everyone as she introduced herself as "Harley Quinn". 

"I bet you''ll blow something up once we get there, Harley" Added a redheaded girl sitting next to you, you could tell by her tone that they were probably friends. The blonde, Harley, laughed.

"Shut up, Ivy." She said, and then Drax was back, climbing into one of the boats beside her. He checked the boats one last time, then waved his hand, and the transports began to move.

Everyone, including you, let out a chorus of excitement.

When you noticed the castle, you smiled. It was huge, and just as amazing as Tony used to tell you. 

"Wow, it must be amazing to fly over all that." You quietly observed, and the girl next to you turned her head in your direction, smiling.

"Do you like flying?" She asked, and you nodded. She looked at you for a moment and then held out her hand to greet you. "I am Diana. Diana Prince."

"Hi, Diana." You said introducing yourself next. "Do you also like to fly?"

"I love it." She says. "I hope i can make it onto the team."

"I don't know if the first-years have any chance, but I'll be rooting for you." You assure, and Diana smiles.

When the boats stop in the harbor, the students are all excited to get out and see the castle, but Drax's almost intimidating posture makes everyone properly behaved.

He leads the crowd to the staircase, and then there is a lobby. There is a woman waiting for everyone, her strict posture makes you think she is someone you wouldn't want to upset.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." She announces. "I am Professor Okoye, head of Gryffindor house."

The students exchange burbles next, but the teacher's gaze shuts them up almost immediately.

"As long as you are here, your houses will be like your families." She continues. "Your triumphs will earn you points, and if you break any rules, those points will be taken away." 

She says, casting a disapproving glance at one of the students in the corner, who giggled. "In a few moments we will begin the sorting hat ceremony."

The teacher then turns around, heading toward a large bronze door, and talking to someone on the other side. You hear someone laughing near you, and you turn your head to the side in curiosity.

It was a blond boy, and he seemed to be enjoying himself as he balanced one of the gold cups he picked up from the surrounding shelves. You thought he would be in trouble if he knocked it over, and this seemed to be exactly the same opinion as the girl next to him, who was looking at him disapprovingly.

"Stop being an idiot, Peter, put that back." She complained and he laughed, shrugging.

"Gamora, you're a spoilsport you know." He retorted and when he put the cup back, it spun and fell to the floor, breaking into several pieces. The boy turned pale as Teacher Okoye turned her head in his direction.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to them.

"Reparo" You said drawing your wand as you pointed at the broken object. Some children let out impressed exclamations when they saw the bowl form again, but you just put your wand away in shame. It was no big deal. Okoye caught up with the three of you next, looking reproachfully at the boy.

"I expect better behavior during the ceremony, sir..."

"Quill"

"Mister Quill." She completed and took one last look at the boy that had with his head down before turning back to the front of the crowd again, waving for the students to follow her.

"Hey, that was pretty cool." Peter commented beside you as you walked. You shrugged, focusing on the path.

//-//

The sorting hat was something exceptional.

Tony never told you how the choice was made, and you knew it was only to annoy you. He had sometimes joked that the students faced each other in a duel, and even though you told him to shut up, you had a look at his spell book before you came.

The actual ceremony was much simpler, however.

When it was your turn to climb onto the small stool, you bit your lips, hoping that everything would go smoothly. Just as the old cloth of the hat fell over your eyes, blocking your view of the rest of the hall, you heard a voice in your head.

" Hello, dear, no need to be so nervous." Announced the hat gently. "You are a curious little thing, I see."

"Is that a good thing?" You thought, and the hat chuckled lightly.

"It might be." He said mysteriously. "Interesting what I see here. Very interesting."

"What are you seeing?"

"Your memories, dear."

"Oh." You thought, feeling slightly embarrassed. That seemed like an intrusion of your privacy. The hat laughed again, and you remembered that he was on your head.

"You're hard to sort out." He says, and you squeeze the stool. "Don't worry, I'm not going to send you home, that's not how it works."

"Oh, right."

Hat was silent a few moments. 

"I see courage in your heart." He says and you try to remember the characteristics of the houses. "But that courage is well forged with your loyalty."

You swallow dryly, feeling your anxiety rising. This was definitely taking much longer than the people who went before you.

"You are as smart as your father and brother, both members of the Slytherin house." He says.  "There's a willingness not to let them down."

"That's personal." You grumble feeling your cheeks flush, but the hat doesn't care to apologize for bringing up your insecurities.

"Ah, this is interesting here. A pure kindness, yet pruned in your origins of shallow paternal affection”.

You frown, not understanding what he is saying.

"You are quite adaptable child, it has always been one of your best virtues." The hat remarks, and you get the impression that the next part is only said for you. "Tell me, where would you like to stay?"

"Isn't that your job?" You retort in thought, and hear him laugh again. You rush to correct yourself, not wanting to be rude. "Sorry, hat. I don't really know. I'd like to stay where I fit in best."

"You would do well anywhere." He retorts, and you frown. "And that's pretty impressive, you know. I haven't met another hatstall since the last century."

You swallow dryly, not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I'll work hard, sir." You tell him. "I don't want people to think I'm a special witch just because of my family. That's something I'm sure, I don't know if it helps you choose."

Hat lets out a sigh of relief.

"Actually, that's exactly what I needed."

It takes a moment for him to speak again, and when he does, you feel your whole body shake.

"Hufflepuff"

//-//

Steve Rogers is the head boy of Hufflepuff and he celebrates excitedly when you sit down at the table next to him.

"That's so cool" He comments. "I'll be able to tease Tony all year about it."

After that, director Agatha Harkness, made the announcement of the beginning of the year. If her goal was to scare the students, she succeeded when she talked about the deadly dangers surrounding the forbidden forest and the punishments for the disobedient. Professor Strange interrupted her speech as he cleared his throat, awkwardly waving for Agatha to stop saying such things, and the woman giggled. 

Dinner is delicious, and then you are following the crowd of students into the communal rooms. 

"Butterbeer" Steve said to the portrait on the wall, and you blinked in surprise when the painting moved to the side, a door behind.

You sighed when you realized how cozy the Hufflepuff's common room was.

"Everyone please come in." Asked Steve in the center of the room, waving to the students who stayed behind. When everyone was around him, he smiled. "The dorms are divided by gender, but you can sleep wherever you feel most comfortable. I will only suggest that none of you try to sleep with the seventh graders, because they are scary." Steve joked making the crowd laugh lightly. "We have a supply of food in those lockers, just in case you feel like having a snack in the early morning, outside of the permitted hours for walking around the castle." He continues and stands thoughtfully for a few moments. "Most of the things you need to know are on the bulletin board on that wall, and you can also ask me anything you want. Your belongings have already been taken to the free beds, but if you want any help, you can organize among yourselves or just come talk to me."

Steve smiled as the crowd moved. You headed in the direction where he said the rooms were.

//-//

You let out a surprised exclamation as something landed on your head.

"Damn, sorry!" Asked an asian girl approaching you, and pulling the small being out of your hair as you entered the room. "Groot, I told you to behave yourself."

"I am groot." Grumbled the little creature. You looked at it wide-eyed, impressed.

"Wow, is that a tree?"

The girl laughed, putting the small creature sitting on her shoulder, sitting on the bed next to the one you identified as having your things.

"Yes and no." She said. "I found Groot in my garden over the vacations, and well, I don't know what he is exactly. But I think he was trying to make my mother's plants grow."

"He's really cute." You commented approaching with your finger extended. Groot smiled, accepting your touch.

"I am Mantis." Says the girl next and you smile at her as you introduce yourself. "We're going to be roommates."

"Yes, and so is Groot." You add as you take off your cape to throw on the bed that would be yours.

After eating so well at dinner, it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep. 

You dream of glowing green eyes and a red light, but you don't recognize them or understand what it means, and when you wake up, you no longer remember.

//-//

Two weeks since you started at Hogwarts, you are used to how eccentric everything can be.

The classes weren't as difficult as you imagined, but that's probably because you've had contact with magic all your life and always had an easy time learning things. All the teachers were unique in their own way. 

Professor Rocket, for example, taught Transfiguration and spent almost the entire period transfigured into a raccoon, even outside of class hours. He was temperamental and got irritated very easily when students talked too much in his class, so it was not recommended to do so.

There was also Professor Fury, who had an eye patch as a mandatory piece in his daily costume, and all the students spent more time trying to guess how this happened, than listening to his explanations of defense spells against the dark art.

Your astronomy class on Wednesdays was taught by Professor Odin, who like to claim that he was a descendant of the Olympian gods, but no one believed him. He was also the father of two of your classmates, Thor and Loki Odinson, who were the exact opposite of each other. While Thor was warm and friendly, Loki was cold and reclusive, plus the former was from Gryffindor and the other from Slytherin. Surprisingly, you liked them both. 

You ended up meeting the head of your house only on the second day.  

Professor Heimdall taught Divination, so you wouldn't have any classes with him until the third year.You bumped into him when you were late for fifth period and had to run to the common room for your Potions books, and almost fell on the floor when you turned the corner without looking and the professor was there.  He prevented you from falling with a wave of his wand, smiling gently. 

" Forgive me." You said clumsily, feeling slightly intimidated by the yellow irises as the magic set you on your feet properly, as well as catching your books in the air and placing them in your hands again. 

"Be careful with the castle corridors, Miss Stark." Said the man, and for some reason, you thought he wasn't just talking about this little incident.

"Professor Heimdall, let's talk in a private place, please."  Asked Professor Okoye, who was standing at his side, she looked at you with a certain disapproval, and you couldn't tell whether it was because of your intrusion, or the fact that your tie was hanging loosely around your neck, in addition to the open buttons on your shirt.

After this little incident, you asked Steve who Professor Heimdall was, and he explained that he was the head of Hufflepuff, and might seem intimidating at first glance, but that he was very kind.

But so far, the professor who has intrigued you the most was Professor Erik Lehnsherr, who taught Potions. He didn't say anything that wasn't related to the subject, didn't make any comments about behavior or events at school. And he had such a stern and mysterious look in his eyes that no student had the courage to ask him anything. You heard Peter Quill make a bet with Thor Odinson that Professor Erik was unable to smile because of some particular sorcery, but you thought it best not to laugh, especially since Mr. Lehnsherr was looking at your direction.

When you had your first Potions period with Slytherin, after herbology professor T'Challa needed to reschedule classes for an appointment, you were surprised to discover that professor Lehnsherr had children.

Gamora ended up on the same bench as you, and she was talking to her sister, Nebula, about an incident that occurred in their dormitory.

"Clearly, the professors' children have an easy time getting away with punishment." Nebula bitterly remarked, and you frowned in confusion. 

"I don't think it was the girl's fault." Gamora retorted as she put the ingredients into her cauldron. She looked at you quickly, realizing that you were listening to the conversation, but she didn't scold you, she just kept stirring the mixture.

"What happened?" you asked next, and Nebula looked at you with mild irritation. She seemed about to tell you to mind your own business, but Gamora smiled, moving closer to whisper to you.

"A girl lost her temper in the Slytherin dorm bathrooms last night." She told. "She's a second year, her name is Wanda Maximoff. She and her brother are Professor Lehnsherr's kids, and everyone is saying that she didn't go to detention because of it."

Your jaw dropped, impressed. 

"I can't believe Magneto has children." You said making Gamora and Nebula laugh at the nickname. Last week you found out that the school had been calling Erik that since he stopped the hall chandelier from falling on the teachers' desk two years ago when he used non-verbal magic to attract the metal, and everyone started calling him that behind his back. Tony told you and you liked the story.

"I know right, he seems so self-contained." Gamora remarked looking back briefly. Professor Erik was focused on his own potions book.

"That noisy kid from Gryffindor said he's married." Nebula added next and Gamora laughed lightly.

"Peter Quill?"

"Yes."

"Wow, that's surprising." Says the girl. You both return to stirring your cauldrons in silence after that little conversation.

When you have finished your mixing, Professor Erik gives Hufflepuff five points for your good work, and you smile with red cheeks.

"You're nice." Nebula suddenly said beside you as you were leaving the room. Gamora stood next to her. "Do you want to walk around with us?"

"We're already walking." You joked and Gamora laughed unlike her sister who grimaced.

"Yep, definitely cool." She added. "Do you want to have lunch with us?"

"At your table or mine?"

Gamora and Nebula exchanged glances.

"I'm not sitting with Hufflepuff." Nebula declared and you sighed, rolling your eyes.

"You know I'm from Hufflepuff, right?"

"I'm reconsidering the invitation." She retorted and you frowned, but Gamora smiled at you.

"Will you sit with us, please?"

You sighed, nodding in agreement. You could talk to Tony after all.

//-//

Lunch at the Slytherin table became an everyday thing after that day. It took two weeks for Mantis to start joining you, and then you realized that you had a small group of friends now.

At Christmas, neither you nor Tony came home, because your father was working and you didn't want to be alone in the Stark mansion. You ended up turning down Tony's invitation to spend Christmas with Steve Rogers and his family, because you weren't really friends with Steve. Tony insisted, not wanting you to be alone, but you assured him that you would be fine in the company of your friends, and that he needn't worry.

On Christmas morning, Groot woke you up by jumping on your face. You laughed lightly because he was so small that he was like a tickle, and stood up as you returned the little creature to Mantis' bedside table.

A few hours later, as you were opening your presents at the Slytherin table along with Gamora, Nebula, Mantis, and Peter Quill, who had also stayed at Hogwarts for the end of the year, you let out an excited exclamation.

"I can' believe it." You spoke, opening the package in front of you. It was a large box, it was bewitched and only revealed the actual wrapping once you tore the paper off. It was actually a broom.

"Wow, that's cool." Peter remarked as he looked at your present. 

That's how you ended up in the middle of the snow, testing your new broom while your friends cheered and celebrated below you.

"Are you sure you can fly?" You asked Peter as soon as he asked you if he could ride. He shrugged, smiling.

You and the girls watched as he controlled the broom for a few feet above the ground, and then he overspeeded it and sped away.

You all ran into his direction, while the broom seemed almost annoyed at his lack of control, and knocked him into a tree. Peter fell between the branches, onto someone who was resting under it.

When you all reached him, you frowned when there was a boy pushing Quill.

"Watch it, dude!" Warned the boy, but before you could say anything, Gamora was already stepping forward, wand in hand.

"It was just an accident." She said and the boy looked at her surprised with her wand outstretched. He crossed his arms however, not looking scared.

"Oh, you're going to spell me now, are you?" He teased.

"Piss off, Maximoff." Warned Nebula next, taking a step beside her sister. So this was Pietro Maximoff. You figured that confidence should come from being the son of one of the professors.

"I suggest you leave my brother alone." Warned a voice behind you. You turned next, only to catch sight of a girl with brown hair, green eyes that glittered with anger. 

Gamora clenched her jaw, and Nebula drew her own wand toward the girl, who also had her wand in her hands.

You sighed, raising your hands as you stood in the line of fire.

"Would everyone please calm down?" You asked. "It was just a misunderstanding, and the broom is mine anyway, no need to fight about it."

It takes a moment, but Gamora puts down her wand, and everyone follows her after that. She has an insinuating smile on her face.

"You really are a Hufflepuff, aren't you Stark?" She teases, and you laugh sheepishly, putting your hands in your pockets.  "Come on Quill." 

Gamora warns and the boy shoots Pietro an ugly look as he leaves. You accept your broom that he hands to you, and turn around, your gaze meeting that of the girl who is supposed to be Wanda Maximoff for a moment. You feel your face heat up at the intensity of the angry look, and you look away, following your friends.

//-//

The months went by quickly as the rest of the school year passed. You managed to do very well on the exams, and didn't get involved in any near-fights again.

When the year ended and the Hufflepuff didn't win the House Cup, you thought you should have been more upset, but you didn't mind having Gamora and Nebula celebrating beside you, laughing and hugging you excitedly.

You also didn't understand why you felt your stomach turn when you caught Wanda Maximoff smiling amidst the Slytherin celebration when you looked around.

[unwrittenlibrary]

Sole Survivor -> I

[eighteen plus blog and this fic holding eventual eighteen plus scenes mean minors should not interact with this story]

summary -> your first week on the island. alliances are made, rewards are won and tribes fall apart before they can even come together. [bucky barnes x female!reader]

word count -> 4.5k

warnings -> reality tv, some cursing, survivor references (tribe, tribal council, idols) past steve rogers x reader, non-enhanced marvel characters, jeff probst (please don’t sue me) some steve slander (steve i love you i’m sorry it was just so easy to make you the sweetest person alive and therefore a target)

notes -> there are more in-depth notes at the end! just want to say this is all for fun & not meant to be a serious fic!! just some fluff & humor as a break to any serious fics out there that you may be reading!

series masterlist here.

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Chapter I 𓆉 OUTWIT -> NEXT

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky isn’t sure how he ended up on reality TV.

That’s all he can think about as his hand grips the side of the speedboat and he glances around at his fellow contestants.

His first application to Survivor had been a dare; One of his friends back home had made a drunken joke that Bucky wouldn’t last a day and well- Obviously, Bucky can’t really take a joke.

How was he supposed to know he would actually be selected? How was he supposed to know he would be a fan favorite...villian? Saying yes to this season was a no-brainer.

He wants the million dollars. He came so, so close last time. Runner-up wasn’t good enough. 

He had been handed a dark, red buff long before they had even stepped foot on the boat. He had wrapped it around his wrist, just like everybody else on this boat with him. His eyes move around slowly as he studies his new tribe members. 

The bright red hair catches his eye first, Natasha Romanoff, was considered the original Black Widow; It’s no shock to Bucky that she had been considered a villain. Her starting point was aligning with the men on her tribe and helping pick who she wanted out. It worked for awhile, she had them under her thumb, until she got a little too abrasive and was voted off shortly after the merge.

Clint Barton who Bucky knew was notorious for promising on his kids then stabbing his allies in the back; In the final tribal he had laughed and said they gave him permission. Somehow he had won. Him and Natasha had worked together, but he had been unable to save her after the merge.

His eyes find Tony Stark next, an original player, meaning had had never played a game with idols or tricks. Tony had won it all on the third season after betraying his number one ally in the vote that decided who he brought to final two. Bucky didn’t need to ask why he was a villain, it was obvious.

Bright red lips catch Bucky’s eyes next as he checks out Darcy Lewis. Bucky wasn’t actually sure if he considered her a villain, but he can see how it played out that way. She had kept her immunity idol secret from her alliance members and had jumped ship when it became clear her alliance wouldn’t win the numbers. She made it all the way to final three after winning puzzle after puzzle in the immunity challenges, she was more impressive than villainous, but sometimes they just needed some people to fill the cast.

Loki was the king of snake gameplay, but even Bucky could admit it got him far. His ability to tell people exactly what they wanted to hear is what handed him the million dollar prize. Bucky wonders if they called Thor too, they had been on the last season, Blood versus Water together.

There’s Stephen Strange who was probably considered a villain for his dry commentary, blunt confessionals and inability to keep his thoughts to himself. He was from the first few seasons too and he had rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, but Bucky found his blunt delivery humorous.

And then there’s you. You had originally appeared on Brains, Brawns and Beauty. Unshockingly sorted onto the Beauty tribe and gravely underestimated. Bucky thought you were definitely the prettiest he’d seen in that season and early on he could tell you would be a power player. No matter how many confessionals men did saying your charm wouldn’t work, they all fell for it, and you picked them off. Your tribe only lost one immunity challenge and you had controlled who had gone home. 

Steve Rogers had fallen in love with you that season and you had taken a page from Natasha’s book. When the merge had happened, you aligned quickly with the few girls left from the other two tribes. Then knocked the men out one by one. Steve, poor Steve, so kind hearted and trusting and it had been his downfall. When you had sobbed to him about the last three girls whispering about voting you out, he had given up his earned individual immunity. The four of you girls had laughed as you wrote his name down and Steve went onto the jury. 

That was the moment that coined you one of the most notorious, and your unanimous win later had marked you down in history as one of the best to ever play.

Call Bucky an idiot, but you’re who he wants to work with. He needs to work with people who will make it to the end with him. His original season he had come off too cocky to win. He had made the mistake of taking who he thought was a floater, but apparently had built friendships with everyone, and lost in a three to six vote. Bringing someone who knew how to play the game like him gave him a far better chance at winning. 

The heroes tribe are already on their blue mat when the villains disembark and make their way onto the beach. Bucky almost laughs when he sees Steve standing in the back, tall and broad as ever. Of course the fans loved Steve. Sweet, loyal Steve. He nudges your calf with his foot and you spin to look at him in surprise.

“Your lover is here.” He nods over to the mat, where Steve is staring straight ahead at Jeff Probst. You laugh with your head thrown back like it’s genuinely one of the funniest things you’ve heard.

“Didn’t you hear? It was a nasty divorce.” You smile before stopping in front of Bucky on the mat. Bucky snorts and drops his bag by his feet as Jeff calls for everyone’s attention.

“We’ve been doing Survivor for thirty seasons now. Fifteen years. Hundreds of people have played the game, yet the sixteen of you have made your mark as either hero or villain.” His eyes scan over the group before landing on Bucky.

“Bucky. You played this game six years ago. Season 18. How does it feel that even though it’s been that long, you’re still considered one of the most well known villains?”

“I’m a villain?” Bucky asks sarcastically as he looks around the beach. The crowd laughs and you look up at him with amused eyes. Bucky tries to ignore the flutter in his heart, damn you were good. “It’s all in the perspective, Jeff.”

Jeff laughs and nods before his attention shifts to Loki standing a few people away from you. “Loki, you’re our newest villain. Coming out of last season, how does it feel to be here with all these iconic names? Intimidating?”

Loki laughs and nods. “I guess so, yeah. I’m just so happy to actually play with people who love and respect the game the same way I do!” He looks over the group in a far more calculating manner than friendly.

“And heroes! Peter, you’re our newest hero on the tribe. Coming off a win that you got through heart and loyalty.” Jeff explains, like everybody here didn’t already know how much of a blatantly good guy Peter Parker was. Three years ago when given the decision to choose between a floater and his ally who was an equally as strong competitor, he had chosen to bring Ned to the final two. It had won him a million dollars. “You intimidated at all? Or should they be?”

Peter looks around bashfully. “Yeah! No, I’m intimidated, you know? I’m not the only winner here. These are all some strong people, I definitely will have to work hard to stay.” He answers humbly.

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the answer. “Okay. Anybody think we got it wrong? That you’re on the wrong tribe?” Jeff asks and immediately half the villains raise their hands.

The heroes and Jeff laugh. “What did we do, Jeff?” You call out in a flirtatious tone. “What’d we do that was so bad?” Bucky can’t see your face, but he would bet his life that there’s a pout there.

“Come on, Y/N.” Jeff says your name incredulously. “You are definitely one of the best, but you single handedly led one of the greatest all female alliances in the history of this game and picked off who you wanted one by one.”

You turn your head to look and the heroes tribe and Bucky can see Steve, Sharon and Shuri, all from your season, watching you. Bucky isn’t sure who made the worst move, Steve giving up his immunity and sending you to final three or Shuri for bringing you to final two with her. Loyalty could be your downfall or saving grace in this game, Bucky’s learned, it just depends on your jury. “Steve!” Jeff calls out. “Y/N. Hero or villain?”

“Villain.” Steve answers quickly with a forced laugh. You shrug and turn to look at Jeff. “I outwitted him. Is that being a villain or playing the game of outwit, outplay, outlast?”

Jeff laughs. “Okay, guys. Do you want to get to your first challenge?” The group looks around at each other extremely confused. It was rare a challenge was played the first day on the island, normally tribes were sent to begin working on shelter before it got too dark.

It’s a physical game. There are eight lanes, each lane has one weighted bag buried in it. In pairs of two, each tribe would go out to the selected lane and dig. Whoever brought the bag back to their tribe won a point and it was first to four points to win.

After an hour, it’s tied, three to three and the only pair to have not gone twice is you and Natasha. You’re against Shuri and Carol, Bucky is a little nervous, but he thinks you two can win this. Shuri was known for her agility and Carol for her strength, but Bucky had faith in your ability to play dirty. “Go!” Jeff’s arms drop down and all four women are darting through the sand.

Bucky can’t stop his eyes from trailing over your body, knelt down in the sand as you quickly dig. You had stripped off your shorts and long sleeve now only in your bikini top and bottoms, the red buff wrapped around your wrist.

He knows why it had been so easy for the men of your beauty tribe to fall at your feet. The way your legs look in the sand and sun has him wanting to kneel for you. He just hopes you want to work with him too.

Natasha pulls the bag out. Carol dives for her legs and sends her face first to the ground. Shuri follows soon after and both of them are fighting with Natasha as you stand back.

Good. Bucky thinks. Let them tire themselves out, then you have the strength to get it away and get the point.

Shuri gets the bag in her hands and makes a mad dash down the lanes, but your arm wraps around her waist and yanks her back into your chest as your other hand moves to yank at the bag.

Natasha gets up and holds Carol back with two hands around the waist. “Push, Shuri! Push!” Steve screams out. Bucky rolls his eyes at the nonsensical advice.

“Sweep her feet out!” Bucky’s voice overpowers the rest of his tribe. Your eyes meet his briefly. “She’s tired! She’s burnt out. She won’t get up quick enough!”

Your hands grip at the bag tightly and you swipe a leg underneath Shuri’s feet. Her knees give out and the bag is easily yanked away from her weak grip.

“Yes!” Your tribe screams as you reach the mat and Jeff calls out. “Villains win first immunity!” Bucky’s hand lands on your lower back and you turn to look up at him happily. He hopes you can see the praise in his eyes because that performance? That’s why he wants to work with you.

                                               You - Villain Tribe

“Looking at my tribe, we’re pretty stacked. We’re good. Heroes don’t have a chance.” You throw your head back in a laugh. “Is it awful I’m excited to take a million dollars away from Steve again?”

                                       Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“It uh- It sucks to lose. I hate losing. It sucks even more that we lost to the villains. I don’t want to vote any of our people out yet, we all deserve to be here. It just sucks.”

Day Two

You had underestimated how tense camp would be with men who had been used to leading their tribes in the past. Tony wanted to build shelter on flat land and Bucky thought sturdy trees for a sturdy base was more important.

Bucky was right, of course. You knew he was in construction, you had watched his season, and had seen the impressive shelter he had helped build. Tony just couldn’t get over himself, but that was no shock. You would use his pride as a chance to move forward in this game.

“They’re just being idiots.” You say softly as you and Bucky try to start a fire. Nothing is really working and the sun will set soon, defeat settles between you two. “Don’t let them get to you.”

You eye his metal arm. It had been what made him a favorite early on, way before he even got his villain marker. His story of a car crash that had resulted in the lost of his left arm and a generous doctor that had worked to give him this new age prosthetic.

“‘M not.” He mutters angrily as the smoke blows out and chance at a fire slips further and further away. “Just… fuck… Just annoyed at myself for not being able to get this.”

You look over your shoulder. “And at the fact that we’ll be sleeping in a shit hole tonight.” You shake your head. Bucky snorts and nods before falling onto his back and dropping the kindle that he had been attempting to light on fire.

Your eyes trail over his abdomen, put on display by his shirt that has ridden up in his new position. You bite down on your lip as your eyes trail over his thighs before you remember that the camera men are only a few feet away and caught every second of your staring.

You clear your throat and move to sit next to him. “I think we’d work well together.” You say just above a whisper. You glance over your shoulder again, but the rest of the tribe is too busy arguing over the shelter.

Bucky looks up at you hesitantly. “Yeah?” He asks just as softly. “Not gonna break my heart right?” He gives you a teasing smile that makes your breath catch.

You shrug and stand up, offering a hand to him. “No promises. I can’t stop you from falling in love with me.” You giggle, partly for the show of it but also because Bucky’s hand is huge in yours and makes your stomach flip.

He laughs and the two of you turn back and begin walking towards the shelter. Right before you reach it and have to go your separate ways, Bucky taps your back. “I think we would too.”

                                           You - Villain Tribe

“Getting my claws on Bucky first is the best thing for my game. He’ll be loyal to me longer than anybody else.” You smile. “And Bucky is the best guy here. Tony may be an OG but he played like thirteen years ago. Strange is kind of cold. Clint and Natasha played together, he’ll be loyal to her before me. And Loki plays a game too similar to mine.” You shrug like it’s a no brainer.

                                    Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“I came to win this time, okay? No more aligning with underdogs. No more just physicality getting me to the end. I need strategy and she’s the best strategist to ever play this game.” Bucky smirks. “Just ask Steve Rogers.”

Day Three

It’s pouring rain by the time both tribes get to the challenge. Bucky had been right, of course he had. The shelter was weak and the rain was destroying it. It would need to be rebuilt when you returned to camp and he could only hope the rain stops long enough to allow him to build a real shelter.

“Heroes will be with me at tribal council.” Jeff explains. “So, today, you are playing for reward. Wanna see what you’re playing for?”

The entire tribe is huddled together in an attempt to keep warm as Jeff explains the challenge and reward. He lifts a cover to reveal a tarp, blankets, pillows and flint. Bucky almost groans at the sight. They needed this win. “I’ll give you a minute to strategize.” Jeff waves them off.

It’s almost every type of challenge in one. Physical, logical and strategical. Six members would build a boat from the pieces given then sail out to retrieve all the puzzle pieces from where they were clipped on buoys. Then bring them back to the remaining two members who would work on the puzzle. First to solve it wins.

“Darcy and I can work on the puzzle.” You say quickly with Darcy nodding along. Bucky and the rest of the tribe agree and get to their starting places.

It’s a crazy adrenaline rush when Jeff yells for everyone to go. “Heroes take an early lead!” Jeff narrates as they push their boat out onto the water. Bucky can feel his tribemates settle in defeat.

“Let’s fucking go!” He urges, forcing the last piece of the boat into place. He and Clint push the boat out before climbing in beside the rest of the villains. Bucky tries to drown out Jeff’s commentary, but it’s hard when every few seconds he’s pointing out the major lead the heroes are creating. “Nobody panic. They’ve got Steve on the puzzle.”

That gets a small, tense laugh out of the group as the heroes boat reaches shore again and the villains remain collecting puzzle pieces.

Hope fizzles in Bucky’s chest when he hears your’s and Darcy’s cheers and the arguing of Steve and Carol, both placed on puzzle and both having different tactics.

“The villains are coming from behind!” Jeff says in an impressed tone as they finally push their boat to shore. “The heroes just can’t figure out this puzzle and are losing their huge lead.”

“Yeah, thanks!” Shuri calls out annoyed from the sidelines as Bucky hands off the bag of puzzle pieces to you. You dump them out and you and Darcy immediately start to spread them out to look.

“Wow! Heroes just cannot get this puzzle figured out!” Jeff shakes his head. Steve and Carol continue to argue and yank pieces away from one another. “Villains have made a remarkable comeback!” You and Darcy seem to be communicating amazingly and pieces just fall into place. 

“Jeff! Jeff!” You scream out excitedly as Darcy stuffs the last piece into place and you two step back. Jeff looks at the puzzle for a moment before throwing his arms up. “Villains win reward!”

Everybody screams in excitement and Bucky immediately turns to you. “Fuck!” He says excitedly as you jump up, legs wrapping around his waist. He wraps an arm under your thighs and tries hard to ignore how good they feel wrapped around him. “Darcy!” He waves her over into a half hug. “Puzzle queens! Puzzle queens!” He cheers, the tribe following in suit.

They’re allowed to celebrate for a few more seconds as the heroes groan until producers force them back onto their designated mats. “Villains. Take your tarp and flint, pillows and blankets will be delivered once the rain stops.” Everybody rushes forward as you take the tarp and flint into your hands.

“Heroes I got nothing for you. Except your trip to tribal right now.” Bucky glances over his shoulder as the heroes stare at Jeff in shock. “Yep! You lost immunity on day one and have had two days to discuss, grab your stuff and follow me.”

Bucky and you laugh with each other as you make your way back to camp.

                                            Shuri - Hero Tribe

“I’m just so… I told them to put me on the puzzle. Put me! Who won three puzzle challenges her season? I’m just so angry. We had such a good lead and we lost it because nobody wanted to listen to each other and everybody wanted to be a leader. Now somebody who deserves to be here has to go home while the villains live lavishly.”

Day Five

Your tribe wins reward again.

After the shocking reveal of Carol being voted out at the first tribal council, villains are perplexed. Carol had been strong, furthest from being the weakest link who was usually voted off first.

You know that’s what being on the wrong side of the numbers will get you.

This time it’s fishing gear. It sends a morale boost throughout the tribe. You grin as you watch Bucky reluctantly walk ahead with Tony.

Tony had latched onto Bucky after Bucky had helped create a better shelter. And once they had secured the tarp and loaded in the blankets and pillows, it was like a five star resort to the already tired and hungry tribe.

You can see Natasha fall in line with you in your peripheral vision and try to hide your smirk. “You’re good.” She murmurs.

You look straight ahead and shrug. “What makes you say that?”

“You and Bucky almost never go off together. Barely talk outside of groups at camp. Really only interact during challenges.” She says quietly. The group is far ahead and most likely couldn't hear if you spoke in normal tones, but you appreciate her caution. “He’s wrapped around your finger though.”

You almost stop, but refuse to let her see you stumble. She was right, you and Bucky were exceedingly cautious when it came to associating with each other at camp. “You think so? He has a crush?” You ask softly. “He’s cute, right? Not too bad.” You feign ignorance.

Natasha smirks. “Yeah.” Her hand wraps around your arm and pulls you to a stop with her. “Listen. It’s Tony and Strange on one side. You and Bucky on the other. We’ve been winning, so nobody is going to admit their alliances, but I’d rather be prepared for our first loss.”

You nod. “What are you saying?” You knew Tony and Stephen would team up. They were both considered original survivors, coming out of the first few seasons and still working on understanding this new version of the game.

“Clint and I can be numbers.” She says steadily. You lick your lips. Clint and Natasha had done Micronesia together. He had been the only one to not write her name down when she was eliminated. She had voted for him to win. It’s not a surprise they had fallen into working together again. “We protect each other. Final Four, after that we’re on our own.”

“I’ll have to speak with Bucky.” You begin to walk again. “But that sounds like a good deal to me.” You give her a small smile.

                               Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“I’m not an idiot. I know Y/N plays this game loyal to herself only. But I’m playing a strategic game. Clint and I make it to the merge with her numbers then we can flip of we need to.”

                                           You - Villain Tribe

“Final four?” You scoff. “Please. Two person alliance versus two person alliance in the final four? I’m not trying to draw rocks. Four people is good and then we’ll make the merge and I’ll work my magic.”

“I’m gonna get some firewood.” Your foot knocks against Bucky’s ankle. When he looks up from his spot on the ground, you subtly nod your head in the direction of the jungle. 

“I can help. It’s getting dark, better two than one.” He stands up. Nobody acknowledges your exit but Nat, who smirks at you before looking back at the rice cooking over the fire.

You two walk in silence, making sure to be out of earshot before stopping to talk quickly. “Natasha and Clint want to work with us. Final four.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder in the direction of camp before looking back at you. “We can promise them the merge. Final four with a two person alliance as solid as their’s is suicide.”

You look up at Bucky and laugh. Did he think you were dumb? “I know that.” You say slowly. “We should just agree to the final four then get rid of them after the merge.”

Bucky huffs out a breath. “That’s smart, but how do you know we won’t be turned on if we vote them out? How do you know Darcy and Loki aren’t already four with Strange and Tony?” His nerves are reasonable, but they make you want to laugh.

You shake your head instead staring up at him with reassuring eyes. “They won’t be. I’ve talked with Darcy a little bit. Plus, Loki works the swing vote angle as long as he can. You watched him last season, it’s how he made it so far.” 

“Okay.” Bucky agrees slowly. “So, we work with Clint and Natasha and work on getting Loki as a swing vote? What if they turn on us? These people’s word means jack.” Bucky’s arm shifts and your eyes immediately trail over it curiously. Did it do that when he was nervous? Was it normal?

“Don’t worry.” You place a gentle hand on his arm, you wondered how the metal didn’t heat in the sun the same way a metal slide would. Questions for a later time. “There are hidden immunity idols, Buck. We just have to find them.”

You walk past him then, picking wood up as you go. The cameras stay on Bucky, who you can feel staring after you. 

Men were so easy.

                                     Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s… She’s got it all mapped out. To the end. She’s not playing this bullshit tribe first, individual later game. She’s here to win. It’s hot.” He blushes before his eyes widen in realization. “I could win this.”

Day Six

The immunity challenge is grueling. Large crates in the tribe’s color have to be rolled from one end of the field to the other by two people. Six crates in total and Jeff had evened the teams out so each tribe only had six people playing, meaning each pair would go out twice no matter what.

Tony and Darcy had opted to sit out, and each pair had to go out twice. Bucky knew this would kill everyone, it had looked downright brutal long before Jeff shouted Go.

Bucky can be the first to admit maybe the team didn’t strategize correctly when choosing pairs. While he and Loki were able to bring the first crate back before the heroes, Clint and Stephen slow the group down. Once the heroes build momentum, they’ve got the lead. You and Natasha struggle to catch up.

By the sixth crate, everybody is downright exhausted. Bucky can’t even comprehend how the heroes had gotten through all six crates so fast.

“Villains start your puzzle.” Jeff calls out. Bucky thinks this is worse than the running. These crates are almost as tall as he is and definitely weighed damn near close too.

Setting the first two in place would be fine, the last four? Pure hell. They had to be lifted into place and Bucky wasn’t sure his tribe could do it. Not when Steve was already lifting crates up for the heroes and sticking them in place like it was nothing.

“Heroes with a huge lead!” Jeff narrates excitedly from the sidelines. “Can the villains catch up?” 

“Fuck this.” Bucky mutters taking a step back. His back hits something soft - you. You nails trail up his spine and he shivers before turning to look down at you. “That piece then that piece?” You point out and Bucky turns to look.

Loki and Clint have the first piece in place. Natasha and Strange are pushing the second. Two pieces have to be lifted next and you seem to have cracked the code.

“You’re so smart.” He punches your shoulder affectionately before yelling out. He starts calling out directions and suddenly everything seems to have fallen into place. The villains tribe is quiet and works together easily while the heroes fall apart, again. 

“Villains win immunity!” Jeff calls out again and the heroes fall into dismay. Yelling and arguing with one another even more. “That means the heroes will once again see me at tribal council. I’ll give you the afternoon to discuss, head on out.” 

Bucky carries the immunity trophy back to camp with a bright smile. These first few days couldn’t have gone any better. A winning streak, set alliance, and final two plan?

He was winning this time. No doubt about it.

                                     Peter Parker - Hero Tribe 

“It just sucks because… because now they’re talking about sending Steve home instead of like - Sharon. She’s smart, but she’s just not the strongest person here and we obviously need a stronger tribe.” 

                                     Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe 

“A line was drawn in the sand last tribal. Scott, Wanda and I on one side. Shuri, Peter, Sharon and Thor on the other. Now it’s just who they want to go home and I hope it’s not me.” 

                                       Thor Odinson - Hero Tribe 

“There’s talk of Steve going home, but I… I don’t know if that’s what will be best for us. We need our strong players and he’s strong! I’m gonna talk to them and see what I can do. We just… We just can’t lose strong people. We’ll get our asses handed to us.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // you can probably tell, but until the merge, you won’t get inside on the heroes tribe. the focus of this is bucky & reader on their tribe. the confessionals are really you’re only hint to anybody else’s train of thought! i’m excited to explore this, it’s really just for fun & not meant to be a super serious fic. a break from harsh angst and all that! i hope you enjoy it, even just a little! the next part will have more to it & it will get more interesting! this is meant as an introduction, a season premiere if you will. :))

& if you’ve watched the real heroes vs villains season you’ll notice a lot of this follows after that set up, like the challenges and eliminations, but i’ve written it around these characters and personalities!

my writing is free & will remain free! but if you have the resources and enjoyed it, consider donating to my ko-fi :) & if that’s not possible consider reblogging or leaving comments! spreading my work or letting me know you enjoyed it means the world to me & lets me know i’m not shouting into the void!

[heyovivi]

So I’m going to be completely honest. Before I read Azriel’s bonus chapter in ACOSF I didn’t actually read ACOSF yet—I didn’t even have the book yet. Like a lot of people I read it online or on Tumblr where you find the book pages posted so you could read it. From the start I wasn’t an avid supporter for e//riel only because I just could not see it happening. Like it felt so...perfect? No not perfect. Boring. But perfect. Like it’s one of those things where if they got together the story would kinda just seem bland. Like there would be no flavor, no story—they would just simply exist together as a couple.

In my honest opinion I didn’t think Elain would challenge him and I thought Azriel would coddle her. Which doesn’t make for a good story or plot for either of them.

Like at all.

So when I read the bonus chapter and actually started to skim over the e//riel scene during solstice (trying my best not roll me eyes) I was kinda sitting there thinking, “well I guess this is gonna happen”. I was so unenthusiastic about the ship and scene and literally was over it the moment it began.

You know in leading up to the book with so much excitement about ACOSF and Azriel’s bonus chapter I did a lot of thinking over Az’s character. I never really did before because my favorites were always Rhysand, Cassian, and Lucien—I love Azriel but I felt like I never knew him like I did the other characters because he wasn’t given as much spotlight. But then I thought of who his love interest would be and...Elain? It all felt too easy for it to be Elain. In imagining his love interest I always imagined them to be someone who was badass and kept him on his toes. Elain just didn’t come off as that type of character to me seeing how the most interactions we got from the pair were glances and blushes—literally that’s all. In fact I even contemplated that people who shipped him and Lucien together are on to something.

Then, when I continued skimming the chapter I was convinced that Azriel’s and Elain’s story would merge into a forbidden love trope and honestly it was just so...stupid. It felt so stupid to me. Like they addressed the problems that e//riel was to have during the scene with Rhysand and not only that but I was picking up some major red flags from Azriel during this chapter with the specific wording used during his interaction with Elain and his conversation with Rhysand. And for a second I was thinking that the next book would be like a fifty shades of gray type of book with SJM admitting that Az was a freak and all and that he and Elain would adventure into the world of BSDM or something after caving into their sexual attraction to each other.

But then finally I met Gwyn. Again, I didn’t read the book yet so I didn’t know new characters were going to be introduced. The interaction was brief but come on...HIS SHADOWS DANCED WITH HER BREATH LIKE WHAT? When I read that I was so confused. I didn’t read the book. Didn’t know who Gwyn was or what role she played. But here she is, the curious little weirdo 😚, asking him questions and making him all caught of guard. The way she immediately put his mind at ease with just a brief conversation. How he described her smile at the end of the chapter as a thing of secret lovely beauty. (Though he’s an ass for regifting the necklace)

Then I finally read the book, finally bought a copy at my local Target. Then I read about Nesta’s journey, Cassian’s journey. I got to know who the Valkyries were and what their role was and the potential plot lines for the next books in the series.

And by the way, the way Elain invalidates Nesta’s trauma? Like when I read that, that’s when I knew I didn’t ship her with Azriel. It just seems like he’s so scarred and so traumatized and I feel like that in order to keep things the way they are, Elain would just ignore it like how she did Nesta and she would tell him to cope in a way that isn’t healthy, like ignore it or push it down. In my honest opinion I think Azriel needs someone who would put him straight, and tell him when he’s wrong, and tell him that he needs help and that they were going to help him.

When I met Gwyn, ngl she was super arrogant, but I think that was a reaction she had to Nesta’s attitude when they first met. But then when we see her more in the book and she’s kind of just doing her own thing like she’s skipping around the library and she’s dancing and singing to herself I think it is the most adorable thing in the world. She helps Nesta, she becomes her friend and then joins her in training (LITERALLY I SCREAMED WHEN NESTA FOUND GWYN’S NAME WRITTEN ON THE SIGN UP SHEET) and then when she meets Emerie she just immediately right off the bat shoots questions at her and honestly their whole interaction was just so wholesome because at first I saw Emerie as this prickly hard-shelled person who was being questioned by this curious little softie (then by the end of the book we realize that when Em gets close to people she shows this side where she’s that kind of friend who is reliable, sweet, and open (especially when she opened her doors to Nesta after her fight with Cassian), while with Gwyn we see her ambition, strength, and competitive side).

Finally, Azriel joins training. And I found it extremely odd how SJM was putting specific little moments between Azriel and Gwyn. Like during training she would sometimes peers over at him and gazes at him, or she would stand next to him, or sometimes it was mentioned that he would do extra training with her. like when I read those passages, I felt like they were planting seeds for a potential ship. Which then made the Azriel bonus chapter make much more sense if Sarah was planning to make them a couple in one of her future books.

But the moment I was completely sold on Gwynriel was when the Valkyries were at the base of the mountain and Gwyn was finally opening up about her backstory and her trauma before she was at the library. these two have history, and I think in Gwyn’s story, Azriel will play a large part because he’s already seen her at her lowest point and he can help her rise up into a newer, stronger, and better person. As for the other way around, I think Gwyn will really challenge Azriel in a way that not many people do because a lot of people are just scared of him, and I think he needs someone who’s going to call him on his shit and who’s going to really stand up to him.  Gwyn, from what we know is an outspoken character and I feel like when she gets close to Azriel she isn’t going to give him the space he wants because leaving him alone is what leads to these moments in the shadows or in the dark where he is brooding or where he is training because he’s just so frustrated not only at the world but also at himself. I feel like she would stay in those moments, she wouldn’t give him that space and she would help him through the darkness. We’ve seen in ACOSF that she’s going to be there for her friends in their moment of need, which is why she took a big step by leaving the library and going to Illyria to be there for Nesta.

So by now, I am literally in love with Azriel. My list is topped with Lucien, Azriel is my runner up then it’s Rhys and Cassian . But I’m so invested in Gwyn’s story because we don’t get a lot of characters like her with her little quirks and bright personality. I’m definitely pegging their story as a friends to lover type of deal and am so excited to see what SJM has planned for these characters in the future. 

[iloveitwhen]

What Team?

OK! SO I thought I knew where this was going then it started becoming a Lila redemption arc but that was about to be like probably 5 long chapters then i changed it and started writing in Lila’s view but for some reason I couldn’t write it in anyone else’s so this is in Lila’s POV and Imma do a part 2 with other pov’s and extend the story a bit

this is for @miracleofadisaster ​ cause they asked for it and based off of this post by @unmaskedagain ​ 

there’s a cuss word in here somewhere if ya’ll care. also i hope i did it justice!❤️❤️💜

Part 2

Things were… not going as planned. Which was basically impossible since everything goes Lila’s way but this class, oh boy this class was stubborn. Instead of choosing between Marinette or Lila the class collectively agreed to ignore and not believe Lila when she spoke of Marinette nor Marinette when she spoke of Lila. It was a little awkward at first but as time went on it got easier and easier for the class to ignore the two girls when they spoke of the other. And Lila was NOT happy about it. She had promised that brat that she would take every single one of her friends away until she was alone and ostracized. And she was not one to go back on promises. Marinette had dropped the situation but Lila was determined, she would not lose so she was forced to come up with alternate ways to take the other girl’s friends away. Lila originally planned to take Alya away first but the girl was too bullheaded and refused to believe that her “bestie” would ever hurt another soul, she had told Lila “I know you don’t trust Marinette but you tripped and I know Marinette well enough to know she wouldn’t do that! And besides, we all know Chloe framed Marinette and put your necklace in her locker. Simple!” 

Lila groaned in annoyance. Just what would she have to resort to to get these fools on her side? Sure Lila was a little heartless, ok very heartless, but she didn’t want to physically beat up Marinette, well it didn’t really have anything to do with having a heart or not, Lila was just too lazy to exert physical energy like that. She was staring out of the window of her mother’s car when a familiar flash of black hair and pale skin passed her peripherals and she whipped her head to find Marinette blushing profusely while talking to some boy in the park by school. She watched them become smaller as she got further away for a moment before a smile crept onto Lila’s face and she relaxed back into her seat. The Destruction of Marinette was finally coming. 

---

Lila sauntered in the classroom the next day, it was before class started so of course Marinette was not there but Alya was speaking animatedly with Rose and Juleka in the back of the classroom. 

“Hey guys! Guess what I saw yesterday?” she spoke in an excited tone that always got those oafs enraptured in her stories. 

“Oooo, girl tell me,” Alya held a glint in her eye and while Rose practically vibrated through her chair, Juleka just sat there not being one to show emotion. 

“So you know how Marinette has a crush on Adrien?” Immediately Alya and the other two girls looked between each other growing uncomfortable. Ok, fair enough, not the best course of action. “No no no! I’m sorry, not like that! I just saw her yesterday at the park with some tall, dark haired boy and it looked like she was like, into him, you know? She was blushing pretty hard. He was pretty cute and I just thought that they looked so cute together! I just think she might be over Adrien now!” Maybe if these girls believed that Marinette wasn’t into Adrien they'd help her get with him, Alya has told plenty of stories of them joining forces to get Marinette to ask out Adrien, all she had to do was convince the lot to switch out Marinette for her. Simple enough. Except now Alya was laughing, why was she laughing?

“I’m sorry it’s just-” Alya burst out into laughter again before straightening up and grabbing Lila’s shoulders and looking into her eyes, “trust me, Marinette does not have another crush, besides whoever that guy was there's no way he’s better than Adrien.” Ok. Rude. 

“But he actually seemed pretty nice….” 

Juleka spoke up which startled Lila so much she flinched back, “What did he look like?” 

“Well he was pretty tall and he had black hair with blue tips, he was handsome too.” Lila prayed Marinette had good taste in men because if she just called some random, ugly dude “handsome” she’d be mortified. Lila’s thoughts were washed away when Rose gasped and Juleka gave Lila a rare smile. 

“Aww,” Rose squeaked, turning to her friend, “Juleka that is so cu-”

“Wait, she was blushing because of LUKA? Seriously? That knockoff Jagged Stone? Please, Marinette actually has class. Anyone who thinks otherwise is an air headed buffoon. I mean c'mon.” Lila’s jaw dropped, she couldn’t help it! That was just so, so rude! Even Lila didn’t insult people straight up like that, not only did she insult that boy, who honestly Lila didn’t really care about, but she insulted her! Lila was many things and being insulted and basically called stupid was not something she liked to be. 

Juleka slammed her hands on the table making everyone in the classroom jump and look over at the four and stood up glaring at Alya. 

“ExcUSE ME?” Lila’s brows shot up at the quiet girl’s outburst, so many things were happening today. 

“Sorry, girl, I didn’t mean it like tha-”

“My brother is amAZing. He and Marinette would be perfect together. He’s respectful, kind, and actually cares for Marinette!” Juleka was fuming which shocked everyone speechless, but headstrong Alya got over it quickly and retorted, 

“No way, Adrien is way better for her, he’s also respectful and kind AND his father is Gabrial Agrest.” 

“Please, the brat doesn’t even like Marinette,” Rose gasped at ‘brat’ but Juleka ignored her and attempted to mimic Adrien’s voice saying, “she’s just a friend!” Alya gasped in offense. 

“You take that back!”

“Why? There’s literally no reason to because it’s true.” The two were completely oblivious to the stares they were getting from everyone who had trickled into the classroom. The only ones not present were the ones being talked about and Ms. Bustier. No one dared to interrupt or make a sound, not even Lila since they were all so shocked that Juleka was actually arguing with someone, and so passionately. None of them had ever even heard her speak so loudly before. 

Alya was about to retort when Alix hissed, “they’re coming!” and in walked Marinette with a slight blush talking with Adrien who was rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. Alya shot Juleka a smug smile before turning and jogging to her spot. 

Nobody paid any mind to Lila who stayed rooted in her spot with blood slowly draining from her face. 

What just happened?

Not only did they defend Marinette but they argued about who was better for her. And Alya just so blatantly insulted her. Like she was nothing. Alya will suffer for that. 

Lila turned and slowly walked to her seat and plopped onto it, ignoring Nathaniel's side glance. After a moment she smiled to herself, all she had to do was convince everyone else that this "Luka" was better for Marinette so she could have Adrien all to herself. 

Lila really didn't know what she was getting into. 

---

For the rest of the day Lila joined forces with Juleka and Rose to spread the news of the newly coined "Lukanette" pairing. Alya was not having an easy time hiding how offended she was that people so easily turned their backs on Adrien, the girl really needed to learn to let go. Lila was going to tear “Adrienette” away from her if it was the last thing she did. 

Meanwhile, Juleka and Rose worked overtime, with a few smartly placed words and here and there the two were determined to turn the rest of the class on their side. They, plus Lila, had become the forefront runners for the Lukanette campaign, and as shameful as she felt campaigning for Maribrat she convinced herself that it was for the better. One step back two steps forward, once the class was "Lukanette" believers she'd have Adrien to herself and it would be one more step to take the throne and continue The Destruction of Marinette. She’d feel the disgust churning in her stomach but she'd still do it. It was for the greater good. 

Nathaniel refused to partake, Ivan was firmly Team Luka while Mylene chose Team Adrien since she didn’t know Luka that well and Adrien was always nice to her, Alix laughed at everyone and didn’t pick a side but was slightly stingy when Kim and Max pledged Team Adrien, and of course Nino decked himself out in Team Adrien gear, seriously the boy came into school with something new everyday. However, Adrien became Team Luka to support the nice dark haired boy even though he had no idea why his classmates were creating “Teams” between himself and Luka, but he “just wanted it to be fair!” The surprise came from Sabrina when she herself pledged Team Luka while Chloe was Team Adrien. It was a week after the Teams began and at first it was all fun and games but that moment when Sabrina switched sides it became war and there was an immediate shift in the air. During school Team Luka did not speak with Team Adrien at all and vice versa, after school the teams were forgotten, except of course when Alix, who was always one to sow discord, would mention it during a class hangout and chaos would ensue. Then shirts were made, inspired by one of Nino’s bracelets that he determined marked him officially as “Team Adrien,” and the civil war within the classroom became official. Marinette of course was completely oblivious and refused to ask why everyone was wearing shirts and refused to get dragged in, not realizing she was the center of this little war. 

At first it was only Juleka and Rose who wore the teal tie dyed Team Luka shirts but when Alya and Chloe walked in wearing their own Team Adrien gear Lila’s fury raged. That day after class Lila snatched a Team Luka shirt that Juleka and Rose made with Marinette to wear the next day. When she walked in the next morning she felt Alya and Chloe’s eyes burn into her soul but she refused to back down, she felt shame rise in her but held her head up high but not missing Marinette’s dropped jaw at the sight of her. 

Two steps forward one step back, she kept telling herself. No one insults her and gets away with it. Alya will go down with Marinette and Lila’s dignity.

It became an even bigger deal when Alix tweeted the situation of her class and Chloe retweeted it with evidence that Adrien was better which in turn dragged Jagged Stone in and people were warring over who was better looking, nicer, more talented, etc. It definitely could have ruined some careers in the process but Juleka happily relayed to Lila that Luka was just happy that 3 million people were “Team Luka” with 2.8 million “Team Adrien” and many of them were begging to hear his music. 

Unfortunately this news reached the Waynes. How the ever loving shit did Marinette even KNOW the Waynes was completely beyond Lila. The girl was a freaking nobody, if Lila didn’t break her quickly she might surpass Lila and that just wouldn’t do. The reason Lila knew the Waynes had found out was because Alix, that hotheaded brat who refused to pick a side, showed up in a black shirt with bold green letters that spelled out ‘TEAM DAMIAN’ and on the back it said ‘FIND YOUR OWN GIRL’. Lila asked who Damian was and the whole class heard her when she said, “Damian Wayne, obviously.” Lila screamed into her pillow until she couldn’t breath when she got home that day. There HAD to be a solution to all of this, she wanted to desperately stop faking that she cared who Marinette ended up with, just as long as it wasn’t Adrien. Or Damian freaking Wayne.

Team Luka:

Lila, Juleka, Rose, Ivan, Sabrina, Adrien

Team Adrien:

Alya, Chloe, Nino, Kim, Max, Mylene

Team Damian:

Alix 

More shall arrive for Team Damian 

Part 2 Teaser heehee

“Hey Marinette?" The girl called looked up from her sketchbook to see Juleka nervously tapping on her desk with her nails and Rose standing behind her with a look that could only be described as sparkly. Marinette raised an eyebrow but smiled kindly at them. 

"Yes?" 

"So umm *ahem* can you help me and Rose make shirts that say "Team Luka" on them?" 

"Team lu- uhmm sure?" 

Juleka have her a rare smile and a soft "thanks" before returning to her seat with Rosa who squeaked "you're the best Marinette!" Marinette gave the girl a weak smile and a small nod of appreciation and just stared in confusion at the spot where the two girls stood previously. 

What?

Part 2

[theunderwoodtypist]

The Huntress, Chapter 1

Eyes watched her as she walked through the crowded promenade.  Nervous gazes flitted her direction, quickly redirecting away from her when she glanced back.  Her ears perked at any and all whispered, hushed tones.  Station denizens stepped out of her path, staring with wide eyes as she passed.  Station security chose to look the other way.  As they had learned from past run ins with her kind.  She found the club she had been searching for, the one with a curtain of beads partitioning it off from the bustling walkway outside, the large tinted windows offered very little view of the inside except some shadowy movement.  She stood just outside the club, eyes flicking back and forth, studying the crowd inside through the multicolored beads.  The scent of tobacco, marijuana, and other herbal inhalants burned her nostrils.  She brushed the strands of beads aside and pulled the cloth covering her face down with one hand, and pulling her goggles up, resting them on her forehead, just shy of her pointed ears, with the other.  The blue and violet lights pulsed along with the thumping of the music.  Dancers wearing translucent garments of various colors danced on pedestals in a ring around the circular bar that took up the center of the establishment.  Her whiskers could feel the faint static charge of the invisible forcefields around the pedestals, in place either to keep the patrons from getting handsy with the dancers, or to keep the dancers from escaping, she wasn’t sure which.  In the back by the bar twin stair cases curved upward to a small balcony.  A single doorway, also curtained by beads, lead to the back rooms.  She surveyed the crowd carefully, sizing each patron up.  They were a rough crowd, civilian cargo runners mostly, stopping at the station to unload and get some much needed relaxation.  She recognized a few smugglers she had picked up before.  Most of the patrons were honest and hard working, others simple men and women trying to make their way in the galaxy, though through illegal means.  Which suited her just fine.  A hunter was nothing if she didn’t have prey to pursue.  The one she was after was a goblin.  Nasty little things.  Orange skin, pointed teeth, large ears.  They were disgusting little ghouls, slimy and they smelled of bile.  He was worth quite a bit, and her sources told her he knew things.  Things she needed to know.  His twin ran the bar here.  The owner was some unknown individual, some benefactor that hid in the shadows.  They probably kept the bar going to traffic weapons or drugs.  Why else would someone not want their name on the documents? She approached the bar after she was satisfied with her initial survey of the crowd.  The squat orange goblin looked her up and down for a moment.

“well…”  he said in a slimy, rasping voice, showing her his yellowed pointed fangs.  “Not too often we get mau in here…  What can I get for you little kitty?”  She ignored the derogatory remark and pointed at a bottle of blue liquid in the glass case behind the bar.  The goblin turned and pulled the bottle out and poured a small splash of it in a glass and slid it across the bar to her.  She set a rounded flat disk on the bar and tapped the surface of it.  Sand-like particles orientated themselves into the three dimensional image of another goblin.

“Do you know where he is?”  she asked coldly.  The goblin scowled at the image.

“What’s he done this time?”  He hissed.

“He owes my employer enough credits to buy a small star cruiser.”  She hissed back, showing her own sharp teeth.  

“Listen little kitty, why don’t you run on back to your employer, before you get your pretty little self hurt.”  he growled.  She smirked.  She loved when they played hard to get.

“Just tell me where he is, and I won’t bring you in as well, for the two and a half thousand credit bounty you have on you.”  she downed her drink in one gulp and glanced over her shoulder across the club, just to check on her surroundings.  Her eyes locked onto an eros boy.  He was young, not much into adulthood.  His black hair was unruly, and his grey skin made him look almost like a shadow in the pulsing lights around him.  He studied her with his mismatched blue and green eyes.  He was armed.  A handgun of some sort, holstered on his thigh, as well as a few knives.  He wasn’t wearing the security band around his upper arm that meant he was permitted to carry a weapon.  He had probably snuck around the security check points.  He had an air of nobility, but the posture of a man who was unfazed by violence and death.  He offered her a soft,  gentle smile.  If things went wrong… She would have to drop him quickly. She turned back to the goblin.

“Have you decided?”  She asked, gesturing for the goblin to refill her glass.  He obliged and she downed the drink.

“My brother is in the back rooms.  I’ll go get him for you…”  He said with an unsettling fanged grin.  

“Good boy…”  She smirked, watching him closely as he went up the stairs and into the back.  She unbuckled the strap holding her side arm in place on her thigh and glanced around, looking for the eros again, but he had vanished.  Good… eros tended to be excellent marksman, and small targets to hit.  She didn’t want to have to deal with more bloodshed then necessary.  The goblin bartender rushed out of the back rooms with a disrupter rifle in hand.  She swore loudly and pulled her handgun before dropping to the floor as red hot bursts of plasmic energy streaked through the air.  The cub erupted in screams and panic as patrons scrambled to get away from the weapon fire.  She peaked over the bar and fired twice toward the goblin.  Both shots missed, but she didn’t have a good shot.  She figured he would want to take cover if he was being shot at.  She had been right, the goblin ducked back into the back room, giving her enough time to scramble to her feet and find a better vantage point.  There were nine fairly well covered spots in the club, each, unfortunately, left her back open, and she wasn’t sure how many of the patrons were part of this goblin’s inner circle and armed.  She pulled her goggles down again and fired a few more shots as she moved, ducking behind one of the dancer’s pedestals.  The boy atop it cowered, unable to get off because of the forcefield, but safe because of it as well.  Disrupter blaster scorched the wall behind her and the ceiling.  Patrons were still clambering to get out of the club, crawling over each other, shoving each other to the ground.  They had effectively blocked the only way in or out.  The goblin would be hers.  She fired twice and ducked down again as disrupter blasts impacted the forcefield, their energy redistributed and funneled into the power buffers.  If enough hit the field, it could overload and cause the emitters to explode. A few more blasted hit the field.  She swore under her breath and fired a few more times.  This was going no where quickly, and at this rate she would loose the majority of the bounty paying for the damages.  She grumbled and pulled a few small disks from a few of the numerous pouches on her belt and on her thigh.  She flicked her wrist back, sending them flying toward the goblin.  One flashed brightly, the other erupted in a cloud of smoke.  She dove out from her cover and fired twice into the cloud of smoke.  She stayed still, watching, waiting…  She knew she hit one of the goblins, she could see him struggling to get up with her goggle’s infrared scans.  She cautiously approached the stairs.  She kicked the disrupter rifle over the edge of the platform at the top of the stairs and pulled the goblin to his feet.  He laughed and then winced in pain.  She had shot him in the shoulder and the calf, no permanent damage.

“Why are you laughing?” She hissed.  He looked into the back room.  She followed his gaze and froze.  There was no other goblin…  He had lied…  Her eyes locked onto a pulsing  red light on the floor.  A second disrupter was set in overload on the verge of going critical.      

“It will destroy half the station!” He cackled.  She swore loudly in her native tongue and dove off the balcony. She grabbed one of the heavy mahogany tables and flipped it over, ducking behind it just as the disrupter went critical.  The blast blew out all the heavy tempered glass around the entrance of the club, forcing club goers, tables, bar stools, and other decor and objects through them, including herself.  She hit the ground hard, coming to a tumbling halt, shards of glass and bits of the composite bulkheads were strewn around her, like someone had thrown them about like confetti.  She pushed herself up and, her head spinning, ears ringing.   Clearly the explosion did not destroy half the station…  She struggled to her feet, barely keeping her balance, staring at the smoking front of the club. People dragged their friend’s lifeless bodies out from under debris, people wailed and screamed,  others lay lifeless, killed by the blast. She looked around for her handgun. It had been knocked from her hands by the blast.  The glint of gold caught her attention a few feet away.  She pulled the gun from the debris and reloaded it, limping back into the club to confirm the kill. Before she could make it back inside, station security had her surrounded.  She swore and jammed her gun back into its holster and pulled her goggles back up as she raised her hands over her head.

“My name is Tivali, I’m with the Hunter’s Guild, I have permission from the station master to use deadly force if necessary here.”  she said as the security guards pulled her arms behind her back, fastening restraints to her wrists.  She rolled her eyes but complied with every order they gave her, and answered every question. This was merely an inconvenience…  A rather annoying, time consuming, headache of an inconvenience that would cost her time, money, and her prey… 

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 2

chapter list / previous / next

Tallkit was acquainted with the clan elders Flintfoot, Fennelpelt, and Whitetooth, but the elders' time was valuable and his mother had told him they didn’t always like to be disturbed without permission.

Sandstone led him into a shallow burrow lined with soft mosses and rabbit fur, tucked into the base of the tall hillside that rose above WindClan’s camp and sheltered it from the worst winds. Sandstone dipped his head to the old cats inside respectfully, and Tallkit quickly followed his lead, very careful not to bump his nose into the ground this time. Fennelpelt’s golden-brown eyes were kind, and Flintfoot regarded him with an impassive flick of the ear. Whitetooth was looking him up and down and Tallkit felt himself shrink a bit under the old tom’s sharp gaze, but at last he gave him an approving nod.

“I hope we haven’t disturbed you, Whitetooth.” Sandstone said, “I wanted to show Tallkit the project you requested I work on for you. I thought it would be a good beginning place for him to learn some basics.”

“Your little tom is always welcome here.” Fennelpelt purred.

“Certainly, he’s much less noisy than certain other kits.” Whitetooth said pointedly. “Flintfoot indulges them far too much.”

 Flintfoot pretended to not have heard him and returned to his grooming. 

Whitetooth blinked his hazy blue-gray eyes at Tallkit. “I hear you hope to continue our tunneling legacy.”

“Of course, your path hasn’t been decided yet.” Fennelpelt reminded them gently. “The council won’t discuss it until a quarter moon before its time for your ceremony.”

Tallkit was a bit surprised. He knew the council was made up of the leader, elders, deputy, and medicine cat, and that Heatherstar consulted them in making big decisions, but he didn’t think there was anything to discuss in regards to him. “I thought I was already meant to be a tunneler?”

“You are of course,” Sandstone said. “The council always meets as a formality. In the meantime, all kits could benefit from a little learning beforehand.”

Tallkit nodded and Sandstone took him to the back of the den. “We’ve been meaning to carve out the elders' den to create more space.” He leaned down and whispered with an amused purr, “Whitetooth and Flintfoot would prefer to sleep farther apart.” 

Tallkit watched as Sandstone put a big paw against the earth, and saw it was newly scraped out compared to the smoother packed in older walls. 

“We have room to expand a little farther this way, and you’re going to help me. The soil isn’t as frozen back here as it is on the surface. Slow careful pawfuls as opposed to fast scratching, work your claws into the soil and push it down behind you. ” 

Tallkit watched his father closely and tried to copy him, but his paws were just too small and weak compared to Sandstone’s tougher pads. For a moment the kit felt like he was making a little progress, then he slipped and his toe bent painfully against a rock. He screeched from the sudden pain and jumped back, shaking his paw. 

“It hurts my claws!” he whimpered. 

“Come now, the only way to toughen your paws is to keep practicing! Slow and steady gets it done.” Sandstone urged. Tallkit tried again, huffing with the effort but trying not to let it show.

“Don’t get discouraged, these things are never easy at first,” Sandstone said. “But these are our StarClan given gifts, and you’ll have them too in time.”

“I know about StarClan!” Tallkit said, “It’s where the cats that don’t live in camp anymore are. That’s where Finchkit lives”

His father blinked at him in confusion, “ Finchkit?”

“Mother’s other kit, my sister.” Tallkit tried not to feel frustrated. Didn’t anyone know about Finchkit?

“I see…” Sandstone murmured, “I didn’t realize she’d named it. It was too early.”

“Finchkit comes back to play with me sometimes,” Tallkit continued.

Sandstone’s confusion deepened. “That can’t be true, Tallkit.”

“But I thought StarClan talked to us?” 

“StarClan watches us and we learn from their wisdom through the tales and skills they pass down. Only medicine cats like Hawkheart can talk directly to StarClan. It’s not good to make up stories like that.” Sandstone’s voice wasn’t harsh, but Tallkit couldn’t help feeling hurt anyway.

“B-but why would Finchkit only want to talk to Hawkheart?” Tallkit complained “He’s scary and grouchy!”

“Don’t speak ill of our medicine cat, young one,” Whitetooth scolded. “He’s looked out for all you kits very well! It’s uncommon to have so many born in leafbare stay healthy, and it's thanks to him that you are. This is simply the way of things. StarClan belongs to a world beyond ours that we can’t touch.”

Fennelpelt seemed more sympathetic, “When I told you about it, I meant StarClan is always with us in spirit. They are always watching over you, including your sister. They may send us signs, but it’s not as simple as talking to them as we are talking to each other now.”

“It’s best you don’t talk about Finchkit,” Sandstone said quietly, “Your mother’s kitting was difficult, and I think she took the other kit’s death pretty hard. We don’t want to make things worse by reminding her of it. You understand, right?”

Tallkit nodded solemnly, but he didn’t really understand. Sure he didn’t see anyone exactly, but talking to her had felt right, like he could almost believe he heard her voice in return. It didn’t seem fair that he wasn’t supposed to be speaking to his sister at all. Who could it hurt?

Tallkit tried to refocus on digging but the soil seemed to be fighting him. He wasn’t shaping it at all, his claws kept snagging and he fought back a whimper.

“Don’t worry,” Sandstone urged. “You’re my son after all. Tunneling is in our blood going back generations. You're continuing a path walked by all the greatest ancient tunnelers, and you’ll uphold their legacy one day. That’s the real comfort that StarClan gives us.  You’ve surely been told of WindClan’s tunneler history.”

“Um...I don’t remember.” Tallkit mumbled. Was he supposed to know? All this talk about ancient paths felt like a lot of pressure.

“Those are our most important tales.” Whitetooth’s gravelly voice came from behind as Talltail finally sat back in exhaustion. “All warriors know the clan's legends by heart. If you don’t know them, it’s time you learned. It goes back countless seasons, to the clan's beginning.”

Whitetooth readjusted in his nest to sit up a bit straighter as he began. “WindClan’s tunnels are nearly as old as the clan itself. You know the story of The Wind Runner, who became Windstar, WindClan’s first leader. She was the swiftest cat that ever lived and rejected the easy comfort of the trees to face the wide open sky.

“Windstar had two children to carry on her legacy. The first born was called Moor Song. She was the image of her mother; swift-footed, lean, and faster than the strongest wind that whistled through her fur when she raced by. Then there was Windstar’s second born, who earned the name Stone Claws, the earth shaper. He was the strongest cat on the moor, and the most resilient.  Moor Song was bold and relied on her speed and instincts to survive any hardship, but Stone Claws inherited his mothers wit. He was calmer, more clever, and creative. He could be trusted to help the cats he served think of a new angle when the obvious solution wouldn’t work. 

“And even in those times, young WindClan had the threat of ShadowClan on their border. The Wind Runner and The Shadow Keeper have always been bitter rivals.  Back then, the claim to our land was new, and it was agreed cats should live in the places they could make the most use of. But true to her nature, the Shadow Keeper had no qualms about cheating her way around this agreement. She wanted fewer enemies, and hoped the dark woodland of her territory would one day grow out and expand over the empty hills. She bet that her stealthy and wily cats could put the moors' land to better use. The Shadow Keeper resorted to making a risky deal with the foxes of the forest, promising them good hunting forever on the moor if they caught all the WindClan cats they found. Her warriors were free to lead the foxes to their targets under the cover of darkness, pick off any frightened stragglers, and slip away before they were seen. She hoped that the pious Wind Runner would take this sudden misfortune as a sign from StarClan that they weren’t meant to have this territory, and that she would give it up.  However WindClan are not fools, and the Wind Runner knew that Shadow Keeper was up to something. Not even foxes would break her will.”

Tallkit shivered at the thought. He’d never seen a fox but he knew they were large, red, and had very long teeth. The image of such beasts rushing over the moor toward him set his fur prickling. “How could WindClan fight off ShadowClan and foxes?” he gasped

Sandstone eagerly took over the story. “That's the best part. It looked grim at first. WindClan put up a fight, and they could chase their enemies across the moor, but they exhausted themselves never knowing where they would come from. So Wind Runner sought her children's expertise. This inspired Stone Claws' first tunneling systems, and the idea to use them for evasive tactics when there was nowhere to run. His legendary strength allowed him to carve out a whole tunnel in a single night. Shadow Keeper was sure no cat would outwit her, but her arrogance that she had us cornered was her downfall. Using dug out rabbit tunnels as cover, they learned how to use the darkness below the ground against her and took her night ambushes by surprise. ShadowClan might know tricks and stealth in their own territory, but they did not know the moor and never thought how to use the barren ground beneath their own paws. When the foxes she’d tried to goad into chasing WindClan were unable to track down the cats that disappeared underground, they grew angry and hungry. They turned on Shadow Keeper’s own and chased them deep into the forest. That is what ensured ShadowClan would always be confined to their poorer territory, to creep far away from StarClan’s gaze. They survive by treachery, that's why they could never master the moorlands, where the eyes of StarClans are always close.”  Sandstone’s nose curled with disdain. “ShadowClan’s been the most envious of WindClan ever since, even if they won’t admit it. They have more spies than any clan, eager to take our secrets to get one step ahead of us, but at every turn WindClan is there to cut them off.”

Fennelpelt nodded gravely “The only silver lining to the twolegs appearing closer to clan territories is their thunderpath has cut us off from ShadowClan, and discouraged much of their snooping.”

“It’s also made it harder for us to keep an eye on them.” Sandstone said grimly, “For now at least.”

Tallkit was glad to have anything warding off ShadowClan if they were as his father said. “I can’t believe The Shadow Keeper thought she could trick WindClan into thinking StarClan was against us!”

“Indeed. WindClan holds our ancestors closer than any cat.” Whitetooth rasped. “When the clans were lost and needed guidance, they saw a light from StarClan shining down to the north-eastern mountains. They say it was Stone Claws who carved the path through the mountains to the Moonstone. No earth was too hard to stand in his way. WindClan was the first to speak to StarClan there, and that’s why we have always been blessed by them, and why it is us that guards the path all the clans take to Mothermouth.”

Sandstone carried on, “Stone Claws became the next leader of WindClan after his mother for his bravery and wit in securing their home. His skills and lessons remain for us to learn from when WindClan is faced with new challenges from our many enemies. It's from him that we get our tough paws and resilience. We’ve honed the ability to navigate in underground darkness, and learned how to chase rabbits and moles into their hiding places; invaluable hunting techniques that kept us fed in hard times. WindClan tunneler paws will never wear or bleed long after other softer pawed cats will. ” He got a distant fervent look in his eye “The Wind Runner taught her children everything she knew, and they in turn taught their kits their own skills. It was passed down from cat to cat, and they say when you receive those skills and gifts, the Wind Runner considers you one of her kin as well. That’s why your training is so important, Tallkit. Learning from your elders and continuing their legacy is how you cement yourself as truly one of Wind Runner and Stone Claws’ own. Many cats can run like Moor Song, but it takes a truly special warrior to master one of the most difficult skills we know. And if I'm lucky, by following in Stone Claws’ pawsteps, in your lifetime you and me will see it brought to a greater potential than ever before.” 

“What kind of potential?” Tallkit asked.

Sandstone purred “You’ll learn more about it when you’re older. I have big ideas in development that I've been preparing for moons. The legacy we leave behind will be one remembered and passed down for generations. Something I want you to build with me.” He leaned down and rasped a rough tongue over Tallkit’s ear. “Maybe someday there will even be nursery tales of us to tell to future tunnelers.”

His father’s earnest excitement filled Tallkit with a great sense of importance. He was really carrying on a part of something so much bigger than himself. 

But deep down, there was also a hint of worry at how much seemed to be at stake. He didn’t really know how to envision what the great tunneler wanted him to do. But the eager warmth in Sandstone’s gaze was a look he never saw in his mother, and Tallkit wanted to latch onto it, drawn to it like a flower was drawn to face the sun. He couldn’t help matching his father’s purr. That unwavering confidence made Tallkit feel he could chase away all his doubts and worries solely through the power of Sandstone’s belief in him. In that moment, he was sure he’d do anything it took to help his father’s dream become real. Even if he had no idea what exactly it was. Sandstone clearly knew the path, and wanted him there, and that was enough.

“It’s an admirable thing your father is doing,” Whitetooth purred, “Wasn’t long ago I was running the tunnels myself, if only my joints could keep up with it. Some cat needs to speak up for us. Of course,” He added with a sour note in his voice, “We’d always do more if we had a tunneler like you in our leadership as well.”

“Whitetooth,” Fennelpelt warned, “This point has long since been discussed. Heatherstar sought our council and the decision was made.”

“I didn’t agree to it.” Whitetooth grumbled.

“What do you mean?” Tallkit asked, noticing Sandstone who wore a similar sour look when Whitetooth spoke. 

“It’s an unspoken rule that when a moor runner becomes leader, they will choose a tunneler as their deputy, and vice versa.” Sandstone replied, “It’s why Badgerstar, a tunneler, chose a moor runner like Heatherstorm as her deputy in the first place. But when she became Heatherstar, she chose another moor runner instead.”

“‘Ain’t ever been an official rule,” came Flintfoot’s gravelly voice. The old former moor runner had been listening after all.

“Ain’t no cat asked you.” Whitetooth growled at him. “I was outvoted. I can’t help wishing some cat like Sandstone here was deputy like everyone thought he would be.”

“‘Everyone’ seems like an exaggeration. And I’m sure they would work together fantastically.” Flintfoot said under his breath.

Tallkit looked up at his father but his expression was unreadable.

“It is not our job to undermine our leaders' decisions, Whitetooth.” Fennelpelt said firmly. “Reedfeather is an honorable cat and has always put the clans' needs over his own. That is all a deputy needs to be.”

Before Whitetooth could reply, the conversation was interrupted as Tallkit noticed the moor runner, Aspenfall, slink in through the den behind them.

“Sorry to barge in!” His voice was muffled and Sandstone stiffly stepped out of his way as he squeezed past. His wiry gray-and-white pelt was flecked with stray bits of grass and he carried a mess of moss and stems in his teeth which he dropped unceremoniously in front of Whitetooth’s nest.

“Good morning Father.” The scrawny moor runner purred to Whitetooth. “Hunting patrols’ back.”

“It took you all long enough. Messing around again, were you?” Whitetooth grunted in reply. 

“Certainly not. I never mess around. I brought you moss for your nest, and Lilywhisker is fetching you all fresh kill.”

“That better be new moss.”

“Of course it is. Only the absolute best for you. Every cat knows you’ll accept no less!”

He purred and grinned at him as he padded the wad. Tallkit didn’t know Aspenfall well, but even he could clearly hear the hidden notes of sarcasm that dripped from his voice.

Whitetooth glared at his son through narrowed eyes.

“Is this normally the tone you take with your elders?”

“You're always family first and an elder second, isn’t that right?”

“Of course, I could expect nothing else from my own son, who I raised and cared for. And yet, I believe you haven’t come to bring me new moss in ages. What’s the occasion?”

“Occasion? Why, I just felt like coming to visit my dear old dad!” Aspenfall purred.

Whitetooth continued glaring at him. “Cloudrunner made you?”

“Cloudrunner made me.”

The tension in the den was thick, Tallkit shuffled backwards uncomfortably. Aspenfall was smiling pleasantly, but his thin tail was twitching behind his back. He dutifully began placing the moss around his father’s nest, but Whitetooth was clearly quickly growing tired with the game.

“Well isn’t that considerate of you” the old tom said flatly.

“It’s my pleasure!” Aspenfall trilled. As he turned to walk away, he flashed a grin at Tallkit and winked at him.

“I’m sure it is.” Whitetooth grumbled, “‘Hope you at least collect enough moss bouncing about the moor all day like a mad rabbit--OW! There’s a thorn in here!”

Aspenfall looked over his shoulder innocently. “What? A thorn? Couldn’t be.”

“It’s filled with thorns you mouse-brained brat! There’s a dozen tangled in my belly fur!”

“Nonsense. I would never.”

“Pluck them out this minute, I ought to have your tail!” Whitetooth snarled. Getting to his wobbly feet, he smacked Aspenfall on the rump.

Lilywhisker strolled up behind the bristling moor runner and shoved him around her towards the entrance with her muzzle before he could turn around and smack the elder in return. “Alright Aspenfall, thank you for your contribution. I’ll take it from here.”

“If you insist, I’ll leave the pleasure to you.” He turned with his nose stuck up, sure to smack his father on the muzzle with his tail before he left.

Fennelpelt relaxed back into his nest “StarClan bless your heart, Lilywhisker” He rolled his eyes. “It’s always a joy being around when you two are within earshot of each other.” 

Whitetooth sat back down with an angry huff. “It’s not my fault! StarClan knows what happened to that kit along the way, it certainly wasn’t my doing! I tell you, you give your time and energy to bringing a cat into the world, and you get no respect at all for it, sometimes I wonder why I bother--”

Whitetooth probably would have gone on longer if Sandstone had not interrupted. “Nevermind it Lilywhisker, you bring in the prey. We’ll fix your nest for you, Whitetooth.”

“Thank you.” Whitetooth huffed. “At least some cats in this clan still have a sense of decency.”

Tallkit was proud that the elders seemed to think so highly of his father. The oldest warriors' opinions were held in high esteem by the clan. Except for Aspenfall I suppose. Tallkit thought. He was among Sandstone’s least favorite Moor Runners.

“Is Aspenfall always like that?” Tallkit whispered once he had helped pull out most of the thorns from the bedding.

“Yes, if you ask me,” Sandstone scoffed. “Certainly around his family. Aspenfall should consider himself lucky he still has a parent at all, most cats in the clan don’t anymore since the long hunger of the last leafbare took so many of our elder members.”

Fennelpelt nodded, “Thank StarClan you are lucky enough to have been born after such miserable times. No young cat should have to go through so much loss so soon--”

A muffled commotion from outside interrupted the elder, and Tallkit saw his father’s ears prick. Some cats were arguing in the camp clearing. 

Sandstone stood up with a sigh. “That sounds like Plumclaw. I’d better go see what’s happened. Come on, Tallkit. We’ll continue your lessons later.”

Tallkit followed him out of the den to see Plumclaw standing at the fresh-kill pile, pawing at a rabbit while glaring up at Aspenfall. Tallkit recognized the other two patrollers as Cloudrunner and Redclaw. He knew Redclaw was Shrewkit and Briarkit’s father, though he’d only ever seen the tom at a distance. His fur had a similar reddish sheen to Briarkit. 

 “This rabbit is from the far east side of the moor, isn’t it?” Plumclaw said accusingly. 

Aspenfall blinked. “I don’t know, maybe?” 

“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s fur smells of clay soil, that’s what the eastern burrows smell like. Is that where Redclaw decided to take you?”

Sandstone had already padded over “Redclaw, you know the tunnelers told the rest of you to avoid that area!”

Redclaw’s fur began to bristle “Are you kidding me? It’s leaf-bare! We’ll hunt where we smell food.”

“It’s the only small corner of the territory we asked cats not to go running through. We have a tunneling project going in that corner, Dawnstripe already collapsed a tunnel entrance three sunrises ago by jumping on it!” Sandstone said.

Redclaw scoffed “that area is too dangerous to be tunneling in! It’s the second tunnel that’s collapsed there.”

“It’s not dangerous if you know what you’re doing.” Sandstone retorted. “We’re not even asking much. This project will open new opportunities for all of us, but not if you go tromping through it before we’ve had a chance to make them stable.”

Aspenfall stuck his nose in Sandstone’s face. “Who died and made you deputy? If your projects get in the way of the clan hunting, then they clearly aren’t very helpful!”

Sandstone gave a deep growl that made Tallkit quiver. Hearing his father use such an angry tone was unfamiliar to him. “The tunnels have helped bring prey to the clans that the moor runners couldn’t catch for seasons! Try showing a little respect for once you--”

“Alright that’s enough!” came a sharp voice. A tall, sleek gray-brown molly with narrowed stormy blue eyes stood at the front of her den. WindClan’s leader, Heatherstar, strode across the clearing.

 “Tempers are short in this weather, but we don’t have the energy to waste squabbling with each other.”

Redclaw stepped away from Sandstone and dipped his head, but Sandstone held her gaze with an icy one of his own. 

“I know Woollycloud already explained this to you and Reedfeather. Why hasn’t Reedfeather enforced it in the hunting patrols he organizes? We’re trying to keep this together and prevent any runners from getting themselves hurt by putting their paws where they don’t belong. I thought that was what you wanted.”

Heatherstar looked steadily at him, ignoring his tone. “I apologize for this miscommunication, and I know you want what's best, but I cannot demand that cats let prey go in their own territory during the cold moons when they scent it. I want your project to be shown through to completion as much as you do, but you’ve wanted cats away from the whole eastern side for nearly a moon. We can’t afford to ignore such a wide stretch of territory in these times. Focus on stabilizing the current tunnels rather than digging further.”

“We need to reach the mid way point before newleaf! We can do it, if only-”

“That’s final, Sandstone.” Heatherstar said. “If you are worried about the tunnels destabilizing, then fixing that should be your only priority. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

 She turned, signifying there was nothing more to say on the matter.

 Plumclaw muttered under her breath. “Easy for her to say.” 

Sandstone shook his head and gave an angry huff. “Now me and Woollycloud are going to have to rearrange our plans again. Crowfur’s not going to be pleased.”

Woollycloud, having heard the commotion, padded carefully over to his tunneling partner. “I’m sure we can come to a compromise. I’ll speak to Reedfeather.” He blinked sympathetically down at Tallkit, “Sorry you had to see all that. The moor and tunnel runners have been butting heads lately.”

Tallkit knew that Sandstone disagreed with some of his moor runner clanmates, but he didn’t realize things were so bad. And if Whitetooth was right about Heatherstar not being eager to support them, it was surely only going to get worse.

 I hope this doesn’t mean Father won’t let me play with Redclaw’s kits anymore… Tallkit thought glumly. It was lonely enough knowing they wouldn’t get to train together, but he didn’t want to have to stay away from Briarkit and Shrewkit when they were in the nursery too.

The rest of the runner patrol had already gone off, Redclaw and Aspenfall’s heads leaning in together as they muttered to each other. 

Sandstone bent down to Tallkit, and pointed his muzzle subtly in Aspenfall’s direction as he walked off with Redclaw. “That cat there is a prime example of why you don’t need to be messing around with moor runners. Stuck up, think they're better than the rest of us. Redclaw is no better, and I suspect he’s passed his attitude on to his son. Aspenfall could have been a great tunneler, but he shunned his father and his work. That’s why he’s more suited to being with the other runners. He doesn’t have the toughness or the guts for the work, and couldn’t care less about his kin. Between us, I'm embarrassed to say I'm in the same clan as him sometimes.”

Tallkit nodded. The harsh tension in the air he’d felt between Aspenfall and Whitetooth was startling. Whitetooth was his father after all, Tallkit couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have that sort of relationship. Aspenfall was kind of scary, and played too rough with the other kits, even though Mistmouse’s litter seemed to think he was great fun. Tallkit didn’t mind never ending up like that. Perhaps it was good after all that he wasn’t going to train with the other moor runner kits.

chapter list / previous / next

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 4

Summary: This chapter references the 6th episode of WandaVision and the events from Wanda's point of view in my previous story in chapter 2-3-4. I recommend reading those before continuing, but the best would be to read the entire story. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Previous parts: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, 

Chapter 4: Regrets

The episode continued with both the twins talking directly to the camera. Erik frowned at this unusual situation, was this how television worked past the eighties? Billy was dressed up as some sort of magician and was talking about Halloween. The two brothers argued about the true meaning of the holiday, one saying something about being someone else for a day and the other one saying it was all about candies and scaring people. Erik smirked, from the little time he had been with Peter, he, too, would have probably said the same thing had he been asked. Speaking of him, he had yet to appear. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long as the twins moved to the living room, where he was laying on the couch, sleeping. The metal bender was still feeling uneasy about the blonde hair. The boys talked, the one wearing the cape seemed suspicious of him. They argued about waking him up, but he beat them to it.

“Blood is thicker than water, I show you!” Peter screamed as he sped off the couch. The twins yelled and started pacing around the couch as Peter used his speed to circle around the sofa. Erik smirked despite himself, it might have been a pretend, but the speedster really did seem to have a good time with his fake nephews. The scene cut to Wanda going down the stairs wearing a costume she qualified as a fortune teller. Peter watched her, unimpressed.

“Wow, that is so...”

“Rad!”

“Lame”

He frowned, that was a little strange, and rude. Charles probably felt his confusion since he turned to him. His gaze was enough to inform him that he too found the line strange. It switched to a reference to their childhood to which the redhead seemed confused about. But that didn’t make sense, she had casted him as Pietro; surely, he would have his memories as well? The husband walked down the stairs wearing a frankly ridiculous costume. Peter also made fun of him by trying to guess what he was dressed as. Vision walked to his wife and seemed to challenge her authority once again. He quickly moved on and pointed out how Wanda hadn’t really talked about her brother before. The scene cut to him and the twins playing games. Then the android decided to go off on his own, to which Peter stepped in.

“Don't sweat it, sis. I got the old XY chromosome. Uncle P to the rescue, uh?”

Raven spoke up at the strange line, “is- is he referring to the X gene? I know it doesn’t make any sense since it doesn’t seem to exist in this universe, but it’s so specific...”

Erik agreed with the shapeshifter, while it technically made sense in the sitcom word; it was way too specific to just be a throw away line. Was Peter conscious to a certain degree? He secretly hoped not, he must have been suffering greatly if he was.

Peter then asked about balloons and shaving cream, something that had apparently happened at the manor before because Charles sighed suddenly in exasperation. He was vaguely whispering about the clean up it took after one of his pranks. Peter and the long-haired twin sped off at Wanda’s complaint about their lack of costumes, coming back with matching ones and spiky hair. From what Erik could gather, they were probably dressed as runners, their hair up perhaps meant that they were going fast? He had no idea; he had never really dressed up for Halloween before.

The scene cut to the neighborhood where everyone was out and trick or treating. He had never seen so many town resident active at the same time, and now there were children. Erik noted with curiosity that the ratio parent to child didn’t really make sense; not enough kids were out for the number of adults present. He suddenly had an idea.

“Charles,” he said, turning to the man, “with that many residents, perhaps Wanda’s hold is weakened; can you read any of their mind?”

The telepath put a hand to his head in concentration and stared at the screen for a few seconds. His gaze didn’t falter as he desperately tried to make contact with the poor townspeople. After a moment, he shook his head.

“There’s something blocking me from seeing into anyone’s mind; I’m betting Wanda has something to do with it.”

Erik sighed in defeat and turned back to the screen, the children were off, and the redhead was questioning Peter.

“You're testing me.” He told her accusingly, she widened her eyes at the accusation, apparently not fond of being so easily read.

“No, I'm not.”

Peter raised his hand in surrender, showing he didn’t blame her. “Hey, it's cool. I know I look different.”

“Why do you... look different?”

Erik stared at the screen anxiously, Wanda was definitely aware that something was wrong. How could Peter answer anything that wouldn’t sound suspicious? He had always been quick to find something to say, hopefully he would still have it, even mind controlled.

Peter tilted his head, acting nonchalant. “You tell me. I mean, if I found Shangri-La, I wouldn't wanna be reminded of the past either.”

Whatever that place was, he had never heard of it, but the context made it seem like a perfect place without remorse. The children came back, asking for more candies and Peter suggested to use superspeed to be more efficient. That was... strange to say the least. He was running with the boys without worrying about whiplash, they were holding on to his belt. They really seemed happy, like any uncle and his nephews. Slight worry crept into his chest as he noticed that his speed now showed up on camera; something it never did before. Was he slowing down for the sake of the show? Also, there was a little blue lingering behind him. Raged filled Erik as he realized that Wanda had changed the aspect of his speed to match her late brother’s. She had erased his name, his hair and now his speed; was there something this woman couldn’t and wouldn’t do to fulfill her fantasy world? 

She went to talk to the neighbor on the left, Herb if he remembered well. It turned out that Vision wasn’t actually on duty, which meant he had broken out of her control for now. That assumption was right, the next scene showed the android walking through the neighborhood, feeling uneasy about his surroundings. He smiled to some passerby as he noticed a couple putting up decorations. Except they were not.

“Is this a common occurrence?” He questioned his friend. Both adults were stuck in a loop, the woman was in the process of hooking up a ghost, but she lowered her arm before she ever reached the fishing line. The husband in the back keep picking up and putting down a bucket.

“No, it isn’t,” said Charles. He frowned as a tear rolled down the woman’s cheek, ”they are trapped in their minds, but unable to do anything. Wanda is sidelining them because they’re not useful to her right now, but they have to keep acting as they would be if she were there.”

Erik stared at the wall, deep in thoughts. They were all suffering, that meant... “Is Peter stuck in his mind as well?” The telepath was silent, but it was enough to confirm his fears. “I wish he could have told me earlier, perhaps I would have been enough to save him from this fate.”

Charles shook his head with a serious face. “Don’t say this, old friend, even I did not sense anything amiss the night of his disappearance. As for knowing earlier, Peter didn’t tell anyone other than Raven. She’s the one that told me.”

He looked at the screen where Vision was still observing his surroundings with discomfort. “Watching this woman puppet my son on her show just serves as a reminder that I missed nearly thirty years of his life. And even now that I’m aware of his existence, I can’t do anything to save him from this nightmare.”

Charles stopped him from saying anything more as he put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Erik, Peter is a very secretive person. And as much as he rambles like his life depends on it; we never knew his real name or the fact that he had a twin sister.”

He had to give it to his friend, Peter hadn’t really spoken much about his past to anyone. But had he been aware that he had a son, could he have made a difference?

The screen now showed Vision walking away and it cut to a commercial. Erik didn’t watch much as he was contemplating what the episode had been so far. He had seen horrible things in his life, but Wanda’s little perfect life was unsettling. There was no record of how she made it in any of the files, it just appeared out of nowhere. The only other person he had seen displaying a power that was close to what the redhead was doing was, ironically, Jean; the other redhead he knew at the mansion. He had seen her unleashing hell to destroy En Sabah Nur back at Cairo and had been impressed since.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as Kurt panicked at whatever was going on at the television. The little boy was slowly decomposing. He wasn’t sure was had happened previously, but he watched in disbelief as the boy’s cheeks hollowed out and his eyes slowly disappeared. Then all that was left was a skeleton as the screen showed a picture of a yogurt brand.

‘Yo-Magic! The snack for survivors!’

What was that commercial? What did it even mean? Was there a threat looking to consume Wanda’s magic or was it a metaphor for what was happening to all the citizens? Everything in this show seemed to have a double meaning. He really should have paid attention. The screen switched to Wanda, Peter and the boys. They were walking in front of a theater that showed movies that hadn’t come out yet. Well, except maybe parents trap but he doubted it was the original one. Peter was complaining about having to return the candies and Wanda was teasing him about being a bad influence. The speedster turned to her, offended.

“I'm just trying to do my part, okay?” Erik frowned, his part? Could he be aware about his predicament? If so, why not try to escape? Or perhaps she wasn’t able to completely subdue him, and he ended up being casted as someone that knew too much for his own good. There was no telling what was going in the speedster’s head. Peter continued his rant, explaining his purpose, “Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the brother-in-law, stir up trouble with the rugrats, and ultimately give you grief. I mean, that's what you wanted, isn't it?”

His remark earned a general frown from the viewers in the room, what did she want?

Wanda narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, “What happened to your accent?”

Peter didn’t let her get to him as he snapped back, “What happened to yours?” That caught her off guard, though Erik couldn’t think why. Perhaps she was supposed to have an accent? Her files did say that she was from this Sokovia place in Europe.

Kurt suddenly spoke up, “I know Peter can be sarcastic, but he’s being very rude. He’s never like that normally; is that his role or is it him being conscious and trying to hide it?”

The teen had a point. The speedster was hyper and excited, but he wasn’t rude. The lines he was forced to say definitely didn’t sound like something he’d just blurt out at someone he was supposed to consider family. Peter continued talking about being shot for no reasons and hearing her voice calling to him. That was definitely the other brother’s memories, that was for certain. Erik wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Did it mean that his son would now be stuck with a double set of memories trapped in his head? Was he torn between two versions of himself? He couldn’t dwell on his questions as the children came running back. “They've got full-size candy bars a few blocks up. Mom, can we go?” Tommy was suddenly gone in a blur and back in an instant, with candy bars in his hand. He looked proud as he exclaimed, “Next stop, Cavity Town!”

The excitement on Peter’s face was something that made Erik smile. He found himself wishing that the circumstances were different, perhaps Peter could have reacted the same way to a student. The way his eyes gleamed up and his mouth turned into a wide grin seemed so genuine, so much like Peter. “Right on, little dude! Chip off the old Maximoff block. You've got super speed!”

Wanda and Peter looked at each other with pride in their eyes. If Erik hadn’t known better, he truly could have believed that they were siblings. They simply felt right together. He watched as Tommy broke into superspeed, running all around the place as Wanda slowly began to get more serious. Peter, though, was grinning like a mad man and repeatedly nodding in approval as the mini speedster raced through the street. Their fun was cut short as Wanda grabbed her son, stopping him abruptly. He frowned at her movement, if there was one truth about Peter, it was that once he started, he couldn’t be stopped by anyone. He was simply too fast. It was because of his superspeed, no one could touch him. It had to be the same for Tommy. How could she even see the young speedster in the first place? Let alone being able to grab him without any whiplash. Wanda then warned them to not go past Ellis Avenue. From her tone, he had to assume that it was the end of the barrier.

Raven turned to Charles, “he has superspeed, is he a mutant?”

The professor continued to look at the screen. “By how it manifested so suddenly, we have to assume that they are. The real question is, did Wanda steal mutant children from our dimension or are those children her own?”

The next few scenes were unexpected to say the least. Vision had found the dreaded Avenue and realized that no one was moving. He switched to a futuristic looking suit and flew in the air. The voices of the residents were echoing in the screen. Vision spotted a lone car, which ended up being Agnes’. She wasn’t moving either, that was unsettling since the woman usually was always so full of life. The robot did his best to question her, but she seemed barely aware of her surroundings.

“How can she even move at all? No one else is,” chimed in Raven.

That... was a valid question. Perhaps the fact that she was usually so close to Wanda gave her a slight immunity against the end of the barrier? He didn’t have time to tell his idea, Vision suddenly woke up the neighbor. It didn’t help much though, she confirmed that it was Wanda who controlled them and then started freaking out. He put her back under the spell and she drove away. The scene cut away as he was nearing the barrier.

Peter and Wanda were walking through the straw maze and sat on one of straw bundles. They talked a little about their parents and how she truly was living her best life. Then Peter pulled a face that was very unlike him and started questioning her. That made no sense, he was pushing for information Wanda should have known. Was there something else in this town talking through his son? She looked frightened for a moment, but Billy ran to her, screaming about their dying father. He was a telepath. Both twins apparently had mutations.

‘Don’t sweat it, sis. It’s not like your dead husband can die twice!’

This remark greatly angered Wanda and her eyes glowed red as she blasted him into nearby decorations. She turned to her son and made him focus on his claim. Judging by the screaming outside of the base, Vision had gone outside the town and the twin sensed it.

The broadcast suddenly cut off.

An alarm blared through the base, ringing loud enough to feel the vibration. Shouts outside of the bunker quickly made them aware of the situation. The barrier was expanding. The three other people with him were quickly picking up their stuff, but Erik couldn’t move. She had blasted his son away, like he was nothing. Was he dead? He hadn’t moved at all, he hoped he was just unconscious. Charles was grabbing his arm, telling him to snap out of it. The world suddenly caught up to him, they were in danger, the barrier was expanding. They had to get away.

He got to his feet, trying desperately to not think about Peter and the pain he had to be in. They ran out of the bunker; the barrier was already beginning to move towards the base. Soldiers were scrambling around, trying to get into cars and escape their upcoming fate. No one was paying attention to them, so Charles turned to the teenager.

“Kurt, you have to get us out of here,” the young man was frozen in place, staring at the approaching red wall. The professor pulled his arm, “Kurt!”

The blue mutant snapped out of his trance and told them to hold on to him. He closed his eyes in concentration, but they didn’t move. He opened his eyes in fear before closing them and trying again. “I- I can’t!” He panicked, “I’m sorry. This is my fault; I can’t do it!”

Raven gave him a reassuring smile and encouraged him to try again. He nodded and concentrated once more. After a few agonizing seconds, the world melted into a puff of smoke and they reappeared a mile away from their previous spot. Erik felt a nausea similar to the one he felt back when Peter broke him out. He looked around with a smirk. They had done it; the boy had succeeded. They looked at each other and laughed in relief, Kurt had saved them. They would live to fight another day, they were- they were-

Not far enough.

The red wall was still moving towards them with increasing speed. There was no escape now, the teen was too exhausted to try moving them again. He grabbed Charles’ hand and braced for impact. The telepath warned them to try to hold on to whatever they deemed was their story. Perhaps they would be able to remain unaffected if they could block their minds from Wanda’s control. He quickly followed his friend’s advice and focused on his life and the reason he was here.

His name was Erik Lehnsherr, he was a mutant, he had lost his family because of the Nazis and he had traveled to a different universe to find his son, Peter.

The wall crashed over them, he felt everything around him pulsing.

His name was Erik Lehnsherr, he was a mutant, he had lost his family and he had traveled to a different universe to find his son, Peter.

He felt Charles slipping away from beside him.

His name was Erik Lehnsherr, he was a mutant, and he had to find his son, Peter.

Raven kept calling for him, telling him to hold on.

His name was Erik Lehnsherr, and he had a son.

The teen he had been traveling with kept apologizing, but he wasn’t sure why.

His name was Erik Lehnsherr.

The woman had gone silent.

His name was... Erik.

He was alone, had he always been alone?

His name was...

It was...

What was his name?

***

Notes: Props to anyone who can tell me what was my reference for Erik going into the Hex (Not Marvel) Thank you for reading, reviews are always appreciated! Next chapter: Charles the Xtraordinary has a visitor

[echo-three-one]

Run run run....

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Going Dark - Part 1

Chapter 23 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Going Dark - Part 2

John "Soap" MacTavish

London, United Kingdom

Soap never knew that the bloody guy would pull that trick off his sleeve. He's been sick of the same ringing he first experienced when they went out with Francine.

So he did what he could and quickly got up to his feet as soon as he saw Alex attempt to halt the hostage on his tracks. That bastard's going to pay for stomping on Alex like that.

With comms down once again, he had to act fast, stomping down the stairs, never leaving sight of the runner. He could sense someone following him and assumed it's any of Roach, Price or Jack. And it looked like Ghost caught wind of what happened too.

"Oi! Let's flank him!" Soap roared across the empty streets as Ghost and Roach split ways and ran toward their target.

They're not kidding when they said the Shadow Company is at par with the 141, the guy ran like a horse which Soap never expected from his build. He could see Ghost and Roach sprinting from his sides, one wrong turn and he's done for, but he still had one last trick. 

He raced to the emergency stairs as his heavy feet clanged against the metal. Soap followed, optimizing the steps on edges to gain on him. Going up the rooftops was his biggest mistake.

"Bollocks, he's still running!" he announced as he felt his ears crackling. 

"Well…. st….by…. do….airs.." His earpiece crackled through the static. It's recovering but they're already far off MacMillan's truck where their line connected.

He leaped. Soap almost stopped in his tracks as the runner courageously leapt across the huge gap and rolled on to the next building. He braced himself and continued dashing across the roof and did a mighty leap, his arms circled like he was swimming and he carefully placed his feet to perform a proper land and rolled.

That's going to hurt as soon as the adrenaline fades, but he quickly got up and made use of his remaining burst of energy. 

The runner stopped in his tracks as soon as Roach emerged from the opposite fire escape, raising a pistol pointed straight at him as he raised his hand in surrender.

"Nowhere to run now." Roach said, cautiously walking near him. He's aware that his phone is still inside his pocket and that they had no idea when it'll go off again.

He didn't talk, but he looked panicked. He was sweating all over and his face was beyond recognizable. It looked like he's out of options.

"Tell us Where Shepherd is…" Gary pointed the loaded gun on his head, the desperation in Gary's eyes were obvious.

"There's an abandoned plane graveyard near Afghanistan…" he whimpered. His voice was shaky enough to warrant the truth.

"What's he doing there?" Soap added.

"He's trading the blueprints for the I.P. Address… Please that's all I know" he begged and they quickly left the place, walking back to MacMillan's car.

"You got something?" Ghost asked as soon as Roach's feet landed on the dark alley.

"A place. In Afghanistan." Roach answered.

"And he also had the I.P. Address.." Soap added.

"But that's impossible… didn't Samantha already forget about it?" Ghost asked but there was a quiet pause. Their brains almost looked like working together.

"Holy Crap." Roach finally broke the silence.

And from that moment they realized the other reason behind Samantha's memory returning. One way or another, her memories were once again toyed with.

~

"So how was it?" Price asked the team that ran off to chase the runner.

"We got an address. An abandoned plane yard in Afghanistan." Roach replied. Soap turned to Alex as he sat at the back of the jeep tending to his wound. 

"You okay mate?" he asked walking close to his ally, who was wincing in pain.

"The guy's boots are heavy." He chuckled and so did Soap.

"Listen, Alex. We heard that Shepherd has the I P. address, did Samantha tell you anything about remembering it?" Soap asked as the whole team fell silent and turned to the two.

"Not really. What's bothered me is that she remembers everything except after when Shepherd explained his plans to her… Could it be that…" Alex trailed.

"She remembered because they undid their operation on her…" Jack continued. The whole group stood in silence. 

Price's phone rang and delivered them with more bad news. It looked like while chasing the runner, Shepherd had caught wind of their activity and had some of London police scour the nearby streets for them.

"Da, It's time to go, my comrades." Nikolai announced as soon as Price relayed the message. Their ride home was compromised.

"Where to?" He asked.

"I know a place." Soap said.

TRAIN STATION

It looked like Soap's hunch was right. None of the people onboard to Scotland mind about the faces of the fugitives flashed on the news recently. 

Their day packs had reserved clothes and they opted to change to something more civilian. Soap could smell the fabric conditioner France used to wash his newly bought clothes and couldn't help but miss her. If they weren't on a rush, Soap could've topped up for international calls.

"How long is this trip? 7 hours?" Price asked a civilian with surprised expressions.

"Wow. It's like a plane ride, but I'm still in the same country!" Jack cackled at the idea. He does have a different sense of humor. Just as Alex described him.

The rest of the team took this time to rest, they sat on the emptiest part of the train, away from the people that might recognize them and report their presence.

"I've contacted Samantha. It looks like they're having a small problem over there." Alex said.

"Someone saw one of us fugitives and tried to get inside the house to claim his bounty. At first they just talked him off but he's persistent now. So they decided to fly to our location and regroup there. And Soap, where exactly are we going?" Alex asked. Soap took a careful look around his team and felt nervous about his decision.

"Our old house. In Scotland. It's far off civilization. I think no one would look for us there." he muttered, gaining a nod from Price and Jack. Soap sighed in relief as soon as they thought of it as a good idea. Roach actually felt excited despite having to go there by train for seven hours. He immediately made that decision a few minutes ago without anyone's approval, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hey, you three… Thanks for chasing that runner while we were out. Go catch some sleep. We'll watch over this train. It's going to be a long trip." Price nudged and Jack nodded. Soap gave a pair of earbuds to Price, the old man immediately looked at him with question.

"What's this? A hearing aid?" Price asked.

"Our runner wore that so it might be the reason he wasn't affected by his own blast." He muttered before crossing his arms.

"Thanks, mate. I'll let someone have a look at this." Price nodded and Jack immediately inserted with a suggestion.

"I know someone near Glasgow. A close friend of mine." 

"That's great. He's closer." Price agreed and Soap slowly drifted himself asleep, trying to rest his tired legs all while also trying not to worry about Francine.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND

The never shifting scenery of the road home sent John MacTavish into a little nostalgia trip. The sound of trains screeching across the station reminded him of so many things from the past.  The road they're walking along now was the same road he's walked on everyday of his life, and now after a lot of years, he can't believe he's back.

"I don't see anything nearby,  are you sure we're not lost Soap?" Roach asked.

"We aren't. The house is just obstructed by the trees. They've grown taller since I last left." he replied enthusiastically. He looked obviously excited to see his home.

As soon as they reached the short curve, a huge cream-painted house greeted them from the distance. He could hear Alex and Roach's collective oohs and aahs every step they took closer.

"When you said old, I was really expecting it to be abandoned." Roach mused.

"It is, actually. My parents are off… somewhere else." he replied leading the way inside the house. The pool was already dirty and most weeds already outgrew the fences.

Soap pushed the huge wooden double door open and was greeted by the same visage of their entrance way back when he was a kid. Same pictures hung on the walls of his adventures as a kid up to the recent photo of his graduation. His mom was always proud of him no matter what, but he couldn't forget the way she looked at him once he chose to enlist to the riskiest job ever.

The rest of the team helped themselves to discovering the inside of the house, looking at photos, sitting on the couches and grabbing a glass of water. Soap quickly gave them a tour of the house and that they're free to pick a guest room of their choice. It was appropriate that they'd feel comfortable after a tough day.

"Nice place you got here, comrade. Why'd you give this all up for a life that's always hanging on the ledge?" Nikolai asked, tapping his shoulder. 

"I don't even know." he muttered and Nikolai chuckled, making his way to the living room. The team was quick to adapt to the place. Roach and Ghost already chose their rooms and he assumed they already attempted to recover while the three older men gathered around the television and watched the news. Alex was by the telephone, probably contacting Samantha. He wanted to check on France himself, so he planned to go to his room and make a call.

"The New York attack stopped." Price discussed with Nikolai and Jack, the three began speculating about a lot of things. Soap would love to join in the conversation but he decided to update on Francine first.

His room looked the same as when he left, the same shade of blue wallpaper, the same color sheets that were changed weekly and the same things on top of his bedside drawer.

Dialing her number, which he subconsciously memorized, he immediately placed the receiver on his ear and anxiously waited for her to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" her voice sounded different over the phone, but it still sent shivers across his spine as soon as he heard it.

"Hey. It's me." he replied.

"Angelo?" she asked, her voice almost sounded like she's fighting herself not to laugh.

"It's John." 

"I know, silly. Who would mistake you for anyone else with that accent." she retorted.

"Do ya like it?" he teased, making sure he emphasized his Scottish accent well.

"Why'd you call?" She changed the topic. She wasn't budging on his teasing, but he knew she's already blushing on the other side of the line.

"Did Price give you the landing coordinates?" he asked.

"Yeah. Maxine looked it up on the map. It looks like a shady house in the middle of nowhere. Who are you?" she joked.

"Great. I'll see you here. I-" he hesitated. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. But even with his oozing confidence, he felt like chickening out this time.

"Yeah. We're on our way. Take care out there John." She said and dropped the call. Soap sighed and plopped himself on his bed, deeply sighing at his actions. This girl was making him crazy… and the funny thing is he's all fine with it.

Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 3

Notification Squad my Beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[justanobsessedfangirl]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy - Chapter 2 - The Maze Runner Newt Fic

Request from aw0kenangel: I NEED A PART 2 OF THAT CHEATING NEWT IMAGINE OMG

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |  Chapter 5

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Author’s Note: I was interested in making a second part, so I’m happy someone wants to read it!

Word Count: 2.2k

Tears blurred your vision as you stumbled through the woods. Newt’s voice grew fainter, the sound of your name leaving his lips turning into grumbled curses as he tried to follow.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to. You’d thought you’d known everything about Newt. The way his snores sounded in the early morning, the way the muscles of his back felt when you gave him a massage after a hard day, the way he smiled and laughed even at your bad jokes, the way he always wanted to help. He always wanted to help! Any of your problems, he was right there for you, solid as a rock.

Tree branches scratched your arms. You ran on.

You hadn’t known all of Newt. If you had, he wouldn’t have been kissing the Greenie.

Your lungs burned as you picked up the pace. The crunch of your sneakers against the dirt fueled you. You wanted to kick something. A tree wasn’t good enough. You wanted to push the whole damn earth. 

Newt wouldn’t catch you. He couldn’t catch you. You didn’t know him, not anymore, but you knew that.

You burst from the trees into the quiet of the Glade at night. Boys slept in hammocks mere feet from where you passed. Some stirred, but none woke up, so you continued running, heading for the walls.

In your mind, Newt and Margaret kissing played on repeat. He’d had her pressed against a tree. How many times had he done that with you? Over 10? Over 20?

How many times had he done that with her?

You could see her hands running through Newt’s hair. Your breath caught in your throat, a sob threatened to break free, and you ran faster, until the only way you could breath was with a shuddering inhale.

Panting felt good. You ran harder, sprinting to the section of the wall where names littered the surface.

You slowed to a stop in front of it. Your whole body felt alive in the cool air. Sweat clung to your skin. Your chest heaved. You were crying harder, so hard you couldn’t read the names, so hard you couldn’t even see the names.

His name was to the left of yours. The image of it interspersed the video in your mind of Newt and Margaret. 

You wanted it out of your head. You wanted him out of your head.

Rubbing at your eyes until you could see, you scanned the wall, immediately finding Newt’s name. There was your name, right next to his, and there was Margaret’s, sprawling over both of them.

The stone was rough under your trembling hand. You traced the letters of your name. You could imagine the heft of the knife, the feel of Newt’s body so close to yours as you carved.

Your fingers stilled as they reached the last letter of your name. Like a spider, they crept to Newt’s, lingering on the N. Then you pulled your hand away. You took a step back from the wall.

When you looked at it again, you didn’t see Newt’s name, or Margaret’s, or your own. You saw Minho. Frypan. Chuck. Alby. You saw the crossed off names.

Stepping toward the wall, you laid a hand on “Marc,” which was written in blocky letters and had one strong horizontal line running through it.

He’d died before you came to the Glade. You’d never known him, never asked about him. You’d never heard anyone mention him.

But he’d been here. He’d been in the Glade, maybe even in that very spot where your own two feet held you up now. He must have had friends. Was he a Runner who’d had an unlucky meeting with a Griever? A Builder who’d taken a hard fall off a roof? A sad, scared boy who’d jumped?

There was so much more to this place than Newt. A ferocity you’d never felt before gripped your heart.

“I’m going to get out,” you said, your voice a whisper. “We’re all going to get out.”

That night, you slept in the room you shared with Newt, after you piled all of his things outside the door. He didn’t try to come in. Briefly, you wondered if he was with Margaret, but then you let that thought slip away. You kept the anger and the resentment and the frustration, and you let it turn into determination. Over and over in your mind, you saw yourself running the Maze. You could map every part of your section in your head, all of the twists and turns and vines and dead ends.

You were up before the sun the next morning, not entirely sure if you’d ever slept. You beat Minho to the doors.

When he trotted over, you saw worry in his eyes. Pity.

“Ready to run?” you asked before he could say anything.

The doors rumbled. Rock walls ground against rock floor. Minho raised his voice so you could hear him say, “Always!” His cocky attitude just barely overshadowed his apprehension.

You slipped through the narrow opening, immediately setting off at a brisk pace. Minho loped easily to your side. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Never better.”

Newt’s hands were running along her sides.

You sped up, gritting your teeth. The ground flew beneath you.

“You seem a little...off,” Minho said. “I’m sorry for pushing it yesterday, we just want-”

“I just want to get out of this shucking maze! So slim it and get to work.” With that, you darted to the right, down an all too familiar path. Minho’s footsteps grew fainter until, after a left, two rights, and another left, you finally felt alone.

You scrutinized every wall you passed. Sometimes you’d stop to peer through the ivy that dripped over the stone, searching for anything underneath that would give you answers.

Why were trapped here? How would you get out? Why couldn’t you remember your life before this? Why did Newt lie about loving you?

Not the last question.

You ran from the last question. When you felt those cursed images start to form in your mind, your legs went into overdrive and carried you as far as they had to go until your thoughts were under control.

Newt didn’t matter. Margaret didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out.

You flew through your section. As you were nearing the doors, you came to an abrupt stop, doing a double-take at the unfamiliar path that branched off from the road you were on. It was identical to every other section of the Maze, save for the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be there. You’d plotted this map in your head hundreds of times, on paper tens of times, and that wall was supposed to be smooth, not gaping open to another path.

Overhead, the sky was darkening. Soon, the doors would rumble shut for the night. You didn’t know where this path would lead or how long it would take to get there.

But it could have been your only chance, so you turned away from the Glade and hurried into the unknown.

Every hair on your body stood up straight. Your muscles were tensed for action, ready to flee. Ready to fight. Your breathing had never seemed as loud as it did then when you were trying to keep your ears alert.

The smell of the passage was the same as the others: dank and slightly musty. It twisted and turned like the others. The ivy curled on the walls the same as the others.

That should have settled your nerves, but your shadow grew longer and longer, and still the corridor stretched on. 

The sound of stone on stone filled the air.

Your heart stopped. Your long stride faltered, fear numbing your feet, and then you were on the ground, and you were scrambling to get back up, get to the entrance. Your knees were warm with blood as you stood, looking back the way you’d come.

Ten minutes. It would take at least ten minutes to go all the way back.

You turned in the other direction and shot down it. No time to scan the walls for clues. No time, no time, no time. No time to think, barely enough time to react. There was a corner, and it was so far away but it was your only option, your only chance, and when you got there you sprinted around it and your path opened onto a new one.

You froze for all of one second before turning to your left at the sound of your name. There was the exit, there was the Glade, there were the boys. Newt was limping to the wall, calling out for you. In a flash, Minho was dragging him back, away from the block of stone that was inching to a close. You saw others, but their faces blurred as you ran.

It felt like you were moving in slow motion. Every step seemed like you were running through water. The air was a heavy, solid force designed to hold you back, slow you down, trap you in. You weren’t going to make it. You weren’t going to make it. You weren’t going to-

Pressing your back against the rock, you shimmied across, the door inches away from your chest. Hands gripped your arm and then you were through.

You gulped greedy breaths of air. Your lungs were tight. Something was squeezing your chest. In your racing mind, you thought maybe the wall actually had crushed you to death, and you were getting one last moment with the Gladers before you woke up in Hell.

Then you blinked and saw a body hugging you. You felt the person’s tears against your shoulder. You felt his lean frame wrapped around yours in a way that was so familiar, so much like home, that you wanted to melt into him.

You pushed Newt away.

“Y/N, I-”

You cut him off, turning to Minho. “There was a new path. I saw it. I went down it.” 

Minho’s gaze turned intense. His eyes dropped to your knees, where blood stained the skin. “We’ll fix that up while we map.”

A crescendo of questions rose from the boys around you. It was chaos; you couldn't pick out a single sentence.

"Slim it!" Newt shouted. You bent and examined your knees, refusing to look at him. "We'll hold a meeting tomorrow, once we have enough information. But until then, I don't want anyone bothering Y/N! D'you slintheads understand?"

You probed the loose skin that flapped over your scrapes. The Gladers muttered agreements. A few of them gave you slaps on the back or pats on the shoulder before dispersing, murmuring that they were happy you were okay and good job and there was a sandwich with your name on it at the kitchen. You straightened up and gave Frypan a smile for that last one.

“Can you get medical supplies and meet me at the hut?” you asked Minho. Newt stood in front of you, silent. Minho looked to you, then Newt, then back at you before he nodded.

You watched him jog away. You tried to steel yourself, to calm your racing heart. Adrenaline still pumped through you. The feel of the wind was still in your hair. Part of you was still in the Maze, doomed to the Grievers. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Newt said, his voice low, the complete opposite of the authority figure he'd just been. His accent was strong like it always was when he got emotional. 

I love you, he used to say. He used to say, I love you. 

“I got carried away. That’s a stupid klunking excuse, but I just-” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

You used to run your hands through his hair. Margaret ran her hands through his hair.

“She’s the second girl I’ve ever seen. At least, the second girl I can remember seeing. I didn’t know how to act and I let things go too far. I didn’t mean to, Y/N, I swear, I didn’t. I don’t love her.”

You wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear him say he still loved you.

But you couldn’t let him. Because then you’d go back to him, and you’d get distracted, and you’d spend eternity still in the Maze, still insecure, afraid that every time that Box came up, Newt would be looking for an opportunity. Because you still loved him but this wasn’t the place for love, especially not with him.

So instead, you looked at where Minho had been and you spoke before Newt could. “I’m around over 40 boys every single day in here.” Your voice was hard. “And I’ve never cheated on you.”

“Y/N-” His voice cracked. 

You didn’t let him finish. “Don’t talk to me, Newt. I don’t want to be around you. I don’t want to see you.” I want to get out of this Maze, you thought, I want to know why you would do this to me, but you said, “I hate you.”

When you looked at him, his face was wet with tears. You wanted to cry. You wanted to hold him or hit him or run away from him.

Instead, you turned back away. You walked to the Runner’s Hut. You drew a map while Minho bandaged your knees.

You were going to get out of the Maze.

[egcdeath]

a blip in the reader-verse

chapter 6: extra! extra! read all about it

series summary: a minor mistake causes a shift in the multiverse that only you have the capacity to fix.

chapter summary: you kept your friends close, and your enemy even closer.

pairing: politician!andy barber x journalist!reader, steve rogers x reader

word count: 4k

warnings: american politics, fake dating/marriage, angst at the end, heavy codependent behavior at the end

author’s note: i saw @jtargaryen18 post about politician!steve a while ago and must’ve internalized it because this chapter pretty much wrote itself. just a heads up: all of my political knowledge comes from political sitcoms, so sorry in advance if i get some things wrong. another warning is that there are still some very unhealthy relationship dynamics at play here, so promise me you won’t be like reader okay?

previous chapter / series masterlist

Is Andy Barber Really the Best for Our Nation’s Future?

Opinion

by Y/N L/N

Feb 7, 2021, 4:36 PM ET

After tonight’s debate, the question that’s begged is if Andrew Barber is truly fit to run our country. Although he’s clearly a front runner for his party’s nomination, he’s shown time and time again that he may actually be our weakest candidate.

His weaknesses were highlighted during the debate, with his dodged questions and vague answers. At this point in time, it’s hard to tell if Barber has a platform at all.

With Super Tuesday just around the corner, I ask you to reevaluate your support for Barber. Though a charming candidate, it seems that that’s all he has, his charm. His policies are weak, and borderline impossible, and he certainly isn’t the right person to become the most powerful man in the world.

—-

When you became conscious, you were no better than unconscious. Your eyes opened and were immediately met with a harshness from the sun peeking through a window. You shifted away from the brightness, body sinking into a memory foam mattress while your nude form rubbed against similarly soft sheets. You sleepily rubbed your eyes before they flitted throughout the room you were in. Observing an oddly clean, generic looking area, you’d quickly connected the dots that you were in a hotel room. A rather fancy one at that. 

Soft breathing came from next to you, and as you turned your head a bit more, you were met with the back of a fluffy and dark haired man. You weren’t completely sure, but judging by your history of finding your way to Steve, you’d assumed that it was some alternate form of your partner.

The man in bed next to you yawned, and haphazardly threw an arm in your direction, before rolling over to greet you, “morning sunshine,” he slurred sleepily.

The beard was a bit of a surprise to you. Though you’d begged and begged your Steve to keep it, he often refused for one reason or another. Seeing the man next to you who (what was now much clearer to you) a version of your boyfriend, was a rather pleasant surprise. 

“Morning,” you responded in an equally sleepy manner, ignoring the rhythmic vibration coming from your night stand.

“Mm, you should get that,” he mumbled, pressing a disoriented peck to the side of your head while you reached over to grab your phone, which you could now see was the perpetrator of the vibrations.

“Hello?” you asked into the phone.

“Are you dumb? Or are you fucking stupid?” Aaliyah’s voice scolded through the phone. “Do you know what kind of position you’ve put me in? This is a fucking mess, Y/N. All for some dick? How could you be so careless?! Jesus!”

“What are you talking about?” You glanced over at Andy, and sat up a bit, pulling the crisp blankets over your body in an attempt to retain some form of modesty.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re fucking Andy Barber, but you’re writing articles about him like you just watched him kill your dog. You realize that this puts all of us at risk, right? You’re gonna lose your job, I’m gonna lose my job since I decided to edit and publish your shit, and you and I will lose any sort of journalistic integrity we’ve ever had, or will have, for the rest of goddamn time! Seriously, you could’ve had anyone, but Andy Barber? Andrew fucking Barber?” she groaned over the line.

“Uh, I’ll uh, call you back,” you whispered.

“You’re joking right? Are you with him right now?”

“Aaliyah!”

“Oh my god, you’re with him right now. You’re a fucking mess,” she huffed before hanging up.

Why did the universe have to send you off to such a shitshow?

You rolled out of bed, and sulked into the bathroom, desperate to find out what was going on. While sitting on the toilet, you scrolled through the wall of notifications; tweets directed at you, messages from confused friends begging you to call them when you had a chance, and even the occasional concerned email. 

You grimaced as you read through each one of them, eventually clicking on the article that many seemed to be referencing, which included a paparazzi photo of you and this Andy Barber character entering a hotel together sometime in the late night to early morning, partnered with an article or two of your own criticizing him. At first, you wondered if he was some sort of celebrity, but what you ultimately found out was much worse. 

He was a politician. A senator who was running to be president.

You screamed into your hands, before tossing your phone aside, and starting a warm shower for yourself. Perhaps the shower could help jog your memory a bit. 

Stepping into the steamy chamber, and letting the water pelt down onto you did do wonders for you, and it gave you a moment of focus. With both your memories from this universe, along with the information you’d been given through your phone, you were able to piece a few aspects of the universe together.

You were a journalist, a popular one at that, Andy was Steve, but not Steve, and also a presidential candidate. Aaliyah was your editor, and a higher-up at the Times, and you were about to have your ass handed to you over an affair. At least Andy wasn’t married.

Your shower must’ve taken longer than you’d expected, as there was a soft knock on the door after some time. 

“Everything okay in there?” a slightly muffled voice asked.

“Yeah. Just peachy. Why aren’t you more worried about this?” you called back.

“I have a good publicist. And campaign manager. I just have a good team,” Andy paused briefly. “When you’re ready, room service is ready.”

----

Over aggressive mouthfuls of fresh fruit and bitter coffee, you conversed with Andy.

“How are we gonna fix this?” You questioned while setting down your fork.

“Well, it’s simple. We just have to find some kind of spin to this whole story. Maybe you were just interviewing me, or getting a soundbite from me.” “Why would you agree to get a soundbite from someone who clearly has it out for you?” You set your fork down, and crossed your arms over your white robe clad chest. 

“That’s a good question,” Andy nodded a bit, “a good question for someone else to answer.”

“Why don’t we let your publicist figure out how to play this?”

“I’d say I’m a bit of an expert at this at this point, but I’ll call my team.”

“You do that, I need to assess the damage to my career,” you huffed, moving to sit on the bed so that you could aggressively scroll on your phone in peace.

Andy called someone, and you patiently waited while he chatted with them. 

“Okay, Y/N. We can’t leave through the front, so my guy’s gonna pick us up in the garage. We have like, half an hour,” he tossed his phone aside, then maneuvered himself to get in bed with you, setting both hands down on either side of you, and placing a soft kiss on your lips. He slowly began to inch down your body, untying the belt of your robe as he did so, when you interrupted him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Andrew?”

“We have time.” He looked up at you.

“We are not doing this. What do you think got us into this mess in the first place?” you frowned, moving one of his hands so you could slide away from him. 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes! Why aren’t you taking this seriously! Do you realize that both of our careers are at stake here? I don’t want to lose my job because I’m having an affair with you. You shouldn’t want to lose a shot at office for a woman you’re not even with.”

“Come on, we’ve been doing this for almost a year, and you only have a problem with it now?”

“Yes! The public had no idea before! They’re going batshit now! And the worst part is that I’m the one taking the most heat,” you sighed, and Andy gave you a frown. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You know I didn’t want this to happen.”

“It’s kinda too late for sorries now.” 

——

You stepped out of your suite about five minutes after Andy left, suitcase in tow, blocky sunglasses on your face, and a heathered grey peacoat draped over your shoulders. Although you were stressed from the controversy you’d found yourself in, you couldn’t help but feel the buzz of excitement from having to hide from the paparazzi. At the same time, you felt quite bad for this version of yourself.

When you finally got out to the designated Cadillac, you asked for his driver to roll up the partition, like you’d done a million times before, then looked out of the tinted windows. The ride was pretty awkward, considering you were in no mood to talk to Andy, and Andy felt bad about the issues he’d imposed on you from his own carelessness. He set a cautious hand on top of yours, and though you were agitated, it did brighten your mood the slightest bit. 

After what felt like forever, you arrived at his campaign building, and you were ushered into a small, soundproof space, with a large and round pine table in the center of it. Surrounding the table was a very tired looking Aaliyah, and… Tony Stark? 

“How’s everyone’s weekend been?” Tony asked, breaking the ice as you and Andy settled into your seats.

“Are we really doing small talk right now?” Aaliyah deadpanned, “sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Alright, straight to the elephant in the room then. You two were out spotted, big deal, happens all the time to politicians and their mistresses-“

“I’m not his mistress! You know this, Tony,” you huffed.

“Tony knew and not me?” Aaliyah gasped.

“Well-“ you began. 

“Save it.”

“It was on a very need-to-know basis,” you muttered.

“Back to what I was saying. I suggest that we don’t address it, unless addressed.”

“I don’t know if you’re dense, or what, but that’s the exact opposite of what we need to do. We have to get on top of this story before the story is that you,” Aaliyah gestured at you, “are packing your shit at the Times.”

The door shot open, and quickly closed. A slightly flustered blonde man stumbled through. “Sorry to interrupt,” he began.

Aaliyah rolled her eyes at this notion, muttering a ‘sure you are’ to herself. 

“We just finished polling numbers, and Andy, you’re up?” He projected the screen of his iPad onto a TV in the room, then passed the device over to Andy on his way to sit down.

“Thanks, Vis,” he gave him a curt nod.

“Why would our candidate allegedly hooking up with someone who hates him boost him in the polls?” Tony asked.

“Middle America loves a family man, you know that,” Vision said in a matter of faculty manner. “Andy has had a hard time connecting with that demographic because when they see him, they see an Elitist East-coaster.”

“Hooking up with a hot reporter does not make you a family man,” Aaliyah retorted.

“That brings me to my next point. If you don’t mind, I’d like to add a proposal of my own,” Vision stated, and received a shrug from the rest of the room. “Well, if we need to put a spin on this, the obvious choice is to explain that they’ve been seeing each other the whole time. Under wraps, of course. The photos the paparazzi received are not damning by any means, and look more romantic than sexual, to be quite frank. Y/N wrote those articles to throw the public off her scent, and she didn’t really believe anything she said, and Andy? He’s just a good, all American man who was tired of keeping his relationship under wraps. Everything’s to gain from this plan.”

“Well, I lose my journalistic integrity. That’s a pretty big loss to me. I may never work again,” you rubbed your forehead in a distraught manner.

“You won’t have to worry about working when you’re the First Lady. Think about it, if we can get votes from the swing states, we’ve secured enough electoral votes to have a Barber win. All over a little character rebrand.”

“Excuse me, the First Lady?” You nervously glanced between Vision and Aaliyah while you attempted to pick your jaw up from the floor.

“Well, yes. We can’t exactly get the full ‘family man’ look without Mr. Barber being a real husband.“

“Are we talking, real wedding?” Aaliyah questioned.

“Yes. You just have to be legally bound together for around four years, eight years tops. About twelve would be preferable, but I understand that not everything works out.”

“I don’t object to that,” Andy winked and nudged you a bit.

What a mess.

“Back to what I was saying, we’ll probably need about a two week PR period before we do a press briefing announcing the engagement. Give or take. During that time, we could have your publicist arrange all sorts of good photo ops for you two.”

“Either way, my career is ruined,” you sighed, and Andy set his hand on your back.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’re not currently standing in front of 30 cameras.”

“Well, we should prepare for when we are in front of 30 cameras.”

“Is it though?” Vision interjected, bringing you and Andy back from your aside. “We can just deflect, maybe have a few of your friends make articles about how what you did wasn’t all that bad.”

“Is it not a valid criticism of me that I was sleeping around with the person who I was also slandering?”

“Is it not possible to criticize someone you care about? In fact, helping someone learn how to improve can be very romantic,” Vision shrugged. 

There was a brief silence throughout the bunch while everyone pondered a counter argument. 

“That right there, that kind of insight is why we call you the Vision,” Tony shook his head and proudly clapped the man on his back.

“So it’s settled then? We’re really doing this?” You glanced around at your peers while Aaliyah spoke. “Any objections, love birds?”

Andy shrugged, “I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life with her.”

You, on the other hand, weren’t so sure. 

——

Barber and his Greatest Critic Break Bread Together on Friday

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Y/N L/N Announces She’s Not Resigning from Senior Position, and That She’s Been Seeing Barber!

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BREAKING! Barber Announces Relationship with Critic Y/N L/N

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Is L/Nber the Ship that Shows us How Relationships Are More Powerful than Politics?

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Our New Favorite Political Power Couple Showed Up Together at a Rally, and We Couldn’t Be More Excited.

read more

Barber 7 Points Ahead in the Polls, Leaving Loguidice and Kline Trailing Far Behind

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Was Y/N Really in the Wrong?

read more 

“L/Nber” Celebrate Valentine’s Day Together 

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These L/Nber House Hunting Photos Are Giving Us Life!

read more

This was your reality for the next two weeks. The news cycle was filled with a plethora of articles about you, some criticizing you, some criticizing Andy, but most, supporting the two of you in your romantic endeavors. Unsurprisingly, the world loved a good story about two attractive people getting together. 

During this period, you didn’t particularly feel like leaving, though the thought had certainly crossed your mind. You just weren’t sure that you wanted to be dealing with those terrible symptoms again in the midst of an already stressful stage of your life. At the same time, it seemed like the universe was not going to be fair with your time in this reality. You were convinced that you were here for the long haul, or at least, until Andy proposed to you. 

Although it was a bit annoying, cameras around every corner, a watchful eye on everything that you or Andy even considered doing, you found yourself growing on Andy. In some ways, he was a bit more intense than Steve, whose personality had mellowed out a bit since the Snap.

This had been the first time in all of your travels where you felt like ‘Steve’ was the one pursuing you, and in all honesty, it made you feel good. Even if everything the two of you did had an aftertaste of artificiality.

You spent more and more time with him every day, staying together with him in hotels across the country, visiting local businesses with him to get the perfect photo op, and attending galas with donors. It seemed like in every candid photo of Andy, you weren’t too far behind. By the time the day of your proposal arrived, you weren’t even all that opposed to the marriage. 

When the proposal finally arrived, the two of you were sat inside a rather fancy restaurant, finishing up your meal when Andy settled on one knee in front of you, “Y/N,” he began, and you felt the all too familiar tremble of your watch on your wrist. 

You almost had to restrain yourself from exclaiming out loud. It’s not that you didn’t like Andy or anything, he’d genuinely grown on you. In the least cheesy way, it wasn’t him, but you. Being somewhere so unfamiliar for so long had begun to create a cumulative exhaustion that wore a bit more on you every day. Feeling homesick was an understatement.

You brought your hands up to your face, and gasped dramatically, squeezing your eyes shut to see if you could possibly produce a few tears, while mobile cameras and a few professional flashes were directed towards you. A few warm droplets slipped down your face, and for a moment you weren’t even sure how fake they were. It seemed like once they started, they couldn’t stop.

You missed Steve, your Steve, the man you’d fallen in love with. You missed your friends, teammates, and family. You missed the stability of knowing what the world held for you next. 

In the midst of Andy’s proposal, in what should’ve been the happiest moment of your life, all you could focus on was your overwhelming desire to have a sense of normalcy in your life once again. 

——

You woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing in your chest, and shaking your ribcage. You looked up to the ceiling of what you had grown to know was your room in the Compound, your real room, and felt your eyes well up in tears that stung you. 

You sat up, and took as deep of a breath as you could manage, when you noticed Wanda sitting by your bedside.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said softly, coming closer to you, offering you a glass of water before sitting at the foot of your bed. 

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, trying to gauge where you were. 

“Honey,” she sighed softly. “I’m so sorry. He’s still missing.”

Your lip trembled as you took a sip. You really were back home. 

“I know you’re hurting, but when you feel a little better, we’re going to Medbay. Banner decided that we should probably keep an eye on your vitals, but you were gone before we even had the chance to get you there.”

You gulped down the water, then set it on your bedside table, “so was that all just a dream or something? Why isn’t Steve back?” you huffed frustratedly.

“I don’t know why he isn’t back, but I don’t think you were dreaming. I was trying to watch your dreams, but I couldn’t read you, or your thoughts at all.”

“Hmm,” you mumbled, throwing your legs over the side of the bed, “let’s go.”

As you settled into the cold, and sterile medical facility you were hooked up to a plethora of monitors, and a cacophony of devices beeped as they read your physical state. 

You tuned out the words being spoken around you, zoning out and looking forward to your vital signs monitor. Your mind wandered to your last few thoughts in your previous reality, the desperation to come back, to see your estranged lover again. You couldn’t help but to feel disappointed, lamenting the fact that you’d found your way home, yet felt the ever present void in your heart where your Steve used to be.

“Y/N?” a voice asked you, and you glanced in its general direction. “What happened while you were out? What did you see? Did it work?” Bruce pelted you with questions.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it yet,” you sighed softly, bringing a hand up to your neck and rubbing it. “The watch worked though, I was definitely in other universes. I just couldn’t reach him. Bring him home. I failed.”

“Do you think he’s really out there?” Bruce whispered to Wanda hoping that you might not pick up on it.

“I’m… I don’t know. I just don’t know how likely it is that we’ll manage to find him,” she responded in a hushed tone. You bit back tears as she spoke, resuming your empty gaze on the pixelated green text of your heart rate on the monitor.

“I’m sorry, guys. I have to go back,” you interrupted. “I can’t give up on Steve yet. I know he wouldn’t give up on me.”

“Y/N, you could be gone for centuries before you find him, then return back here with no time passed at all, and possibly no Steve. You don’t deserve to take on all of that pain,” Wanda set a hand on your shoulder. “Steve would’ve wanted you to move on from him. To find happiness without him.”

“I can’t do that, Wanda. Without him I don’t even know who I am,” your voice trembled as you spoke. “He’s literally been my only tether through all of this.”

“I just don’t know that this is the best thing we could be doing. Sure, you’re physically fine, but it almost seems like you’re doing worse emotionally than you were before you left,” Bruce added.

“I’m not!” you sniffled before continuing. “I’m just tired from going to all those new places.”

Bruce and Wanda didn’t seem too convinced. “Don’t you guys believe in me? When have I let you down on a mission before? I’m gonna find him, okay? I’ll find him if it’s the last fucking thing I do,” you blubbered.

Wanda’s hand slid down your shoulder, and to the watch that was currently on your wrist.

“Don’t,” you uttered, swinging your opposite hand to grab onto your own wrist. You were aware that there was absolutely no way you could overpower her in taking the watch from you, but even in your minor hysterics, you were able to think fast enough to press the round button before the watch was able to be taken off of you.

You, and your wrist shook. Wrist shaking from the watch, and promise of sending you elsewhere, and you from a mixture of sobs and adrenaline. Though not the most ideal exit, it was an exit nonetheless.

You weren’t even sure if you cared that you were on good terms with your teammates anymore. 

You just needed to be with Steve again.

[ilguna]

Lacuna - Chapters 13-16 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing. MURDER, GORE.

wc; 10.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

-- CHAPTER THIRTEEN --

If this is what it’s like to be dead, then you don’t want to be dead anymore. 

First off, it’s cold as all hell in here. It’s like when you were younger and your brothers would throw you into the frigid ass water for fun in the winter. Of course, you could swim back then. Like every other person in district four, you had learned to swim at the sprightly age of four, probably younger. You start young when it comes to knots, fishing and swimming.

By the time you’re seven or eight you’re basically blending in with the water. Most kids by then can swim like they never left the water, they’re fish themselves. You used to race the kids back home all the time to see who could swim fastest from dock to dock. And those were like a quarter to a half a mile apart each. Every single damn time, you somehow managed to beat them. The runner up would always be at least thirty seconds behind you. On good days, more.

Fishing? Well, if you’re old enough to hold a rod then you’re old enough to get your ass sat on the boat. You can surely get something caught on the line, and then your parents would reach over and get the fish off of the hook for you. Then, you throw the sucker back in, and the process repeats. Really, they’re doing all the work, you’re just sitting there to keep the rod from going anywhere when something does tug back.

And knot tying is easy. Clumsy fingers get better as time goes on, but you observe until you’re eight or nine. You don’t start the knots until you’re nine to ten because the chances of the kids fucking up a perfectly good line with a bad line, is more common than you think. Even the prodigies are prone to messing up on the simplest ones. It’s fine though, they’ll learn it in the next couple years of their life, and soon they’ll be doing it in their sleep.

When they’re bored, they’ll ask for a rope or a wire to mess with so they can fuck around and tie knots. Practice gets you everywhere in this day and age, so there’s no better way to do it than when you’re bored. If you can do it without looking, then god damn, you might as well be teaching the others. Sometimes, you still catch Reed looking down to tie them, and he’s been doing it for over ten years by now.

The room is cold, and it only gets worse as time goes on. Sometimes, it’ll ease up just a little bit, but that’s rare. Every couple of hours, you’re certain. It’s not a constant feeling of the warmth of a goddamn grizzly bear snuggled right up against your side. You wish it was though, then you wouldn’t be shivering and chattering your teeth. They hit against each other, and you think that you’ll bite your tongue or chip one of your many teeth.

Not to mention the fact that it’s wet. There’s always the sound of water running, every now and then you’ll get a drop of water on your forehead or something. Furthering the fact that you’re cold. Who knew a single drop of water could ruin the temporary warmth that you’d falsely given yourself?

You, you guess.

“I-I-It’s cold as b-buh-balls in he-here.” you mutter, going to turn over.

The stabbing pain in your lower abdomen makes your eyes snap open, a muffled scream tries to leave your mouth, but a hand reaches over to place it over your mouth. Your entire body begins to ache. From your neck to your thighs. The left side of your face is swollen and your nose is very much crooked. It’s throwing you off.

When you raise your hand to grab the arm, you see that your own are littered in purple, blue and black bruises. In a panic, you shove whoever it is off, as you desperately tear off the sleeping bag without actually ripping it.

You know who it is next to you. You can see the wide green eyes staring at you in shock. His blonde hair is stuck to his forehead like he just came through the waterfall a minute ago. He’s in nothing but his pants, probably letting his jacket and shirt dry. You can already hear him asking you what you’re doing and he hasn’t even opened his mouth just yet.

“Woah--” Finnick starts, the second you unzip the jacket, pulling it off, “Are you cold? You might have hypothermia--”

“It’s not burning!” you snap, pulling your shirt up, and only then do you slow down for a moment. To see the shirt wrapped around your waist and the blood seeping through along with the bruises blossoming across your stomach, “How many of my ribs are broken?”

“I don’t know.” Finnick sits down now, rather than crouching, “I thought you were dead when I found you.”

You look to him, squinting, “When did you find me?”

“The uh--the night that two had died?”

“Very specific.”

“A couple days after Allio had died.” he tells you.

“Three days?” you ask, you’ve barely been keeping track, and now that you’ve been out for fuck knows how long, this entire thing has thrown it off balance.

“Yeah,”

“Who died? I only heard one cannon.” you mutter, zipping the jacket back up, and you notice that the jacket isn’t very breezy in the back.

Motherfucker! He’s tied his shirt around your waist and gave you his jacket. He has to be freezing, and he’s doing it to make sure that you get better. Or Finnick has an ulterior motive, he’s trying to win you back after he pulled that ass move and left you behind.

Finnick’s face twists with worry the second your eyes turn on him, “I’m sorry, okay? I couldn’t just stay there--”

“Like hell you couldn’t!” you shout, shouting hurts your side, but it’s a dull pain.

“Playing pretend? Playing house? I don’t know how you lasted for so long.” he says calmly.

“It was going well until they fuckin’ figured out that I killed Allio,” you sigh, propping yourself up on the rocks behind you.

“You killed Allio?”

“You killed the girl from six?” you mock.

“And Thyme.” he tells you, moving away from you now, and before you can ask, he answers, “Mercy kill.”

“Who died after that?” you ask, running your fingers over your nose. You’re not too thrilled when it doesn’t hurt as badly as you thought it would. It means that it’s setting. Your nose is going to be fucking stuck like this.

“Guys from ten and three.”

You nearly choke on your spit, “Blaire? Blaire’s dead?!” 

“Is that ten or three?”

“Three!” you cry, you can feel the frown on your face before it’s even settled, “He saved me from Lennox. If it weren’t for him, I would have been beaten to death. But I guess he felt like he owed me after I saved him from starving.”

“You saw him a second time?” Finnick looks over his shoulder.

“The day you left I saw him down by the lake or something, don’t remember exactly. Spent most of my time at the pond-lake and he kept showing up. My little bit of company.”

“Leave it to you to make friends in everyone you meet.” he mutters, you glare at the back of his head.

“Leave it to the fourteen-year-old boy to bail on his first alliance to deal with the career pack alone.” you pick up the nearest rock and hurl it at the back of his head for emphasis.

He groans, rubbing it and giving you a small glance over his shoulder, “Like I said--”

“I don’t want another apology.” you tell him, “Or an excuse.”

He doesn’t say anything, staring off into the water.

“Anyone else die?”

“Boy from eight.”

“Any of those kills yours?”

“The girl from eight on the first day, Thyme and the girl from six. Then the boy from ten and also the boy from eight.”

Quick mental math tells you that it’s five. He’s killed five so far, the same as you. Ten people that were in this arena have been killed by the district four participants. Everyone back home must be thrilled. You can’t wait for people to ask you what it’s like being a murder. It happened to Mags, it’ll surely happen to you.

And your response? You’ll ask them if they want to be added to the numbers.

“Damn. You know mine already.” you begin to push yourself up, and with all the noise, Finnick turns.

“What are you doing?”

“Fresh air.”

“You’re going to get the bandage wet.”

“Then I’ll take it off, it’s bloody anyway.” you begin with the jacket.

“Wouldn’t be if you stopped moving.” he mutters.

“I’m going to give you a black eye.” you threaten.

“To go along with yours? Along with that broken nose?”

“Finnick I swear to god, I don’t have a problem with stabbing you to death in here.”

He laughs, “You’re weak. Probably can’t even hold your arms above your head.” it’s quiet for a moment as you debate if you’re willing to prove him wrong, he adds, “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“It’s about to be.” you tell him, grabbing the bottom of your shirt as you very slowly pull it off. It starts in your ribs, and then slowly travels to your shoulders. When the rim--is that the right word?--of the shirt hits your swollen eye, you wince. 

“We’re in the third week, I think. Six people left. Four if it’s just me and you.” he looks over.

Final numbers.

“Well, good.” you say, but it’s not good. You’re covered in bruises, broken bones and a stab wound in your stomach. You’re useless. Finnick could have killed you in your sleep and you wouldn’t have known. It would all have been done for you.

Once you start kicking at your shoes, Finnick realizes that you’re serious. He moves over, untying the boots and then helping with your pants. He carefully unties the bandage, since you hadn’t touched it just yet. And then he takes off his own socks and pants so it won’t get wet. Might as well come back into the little cave with dry things to wear.

It’s daytime, you can see it through the water. You put one hand over the stab place, passing through the water. It’s a little hard on the head, from the gallons of water hitting your head. But as soon as you pass through, you’re heading for the pond-lake water.

“It’s salt.” Finnick says as if you don’t already know.

You slip in, and you can hear Finnick splashing behind you. Probably worrying that you’re going to end up drowning or anything. You can swim even in the worst conditions, he can go fuck himself.

Despite this, he holds beneath your arms, helping you into the water slowly. You want to leave the second that the salt water enters the wound, but you push through it. He can clearly see how uncomfortable you are, but allows you to continue. He’s smart, knows not to try and tell you what’s best for yourself. You need to be up and on your feet, running around like you’re good as new.

Not saying that you want to kill off the last four, but there’s no way that you can stay in here for another week. Another goddamn agonizing week of eating fish, drinking iodized salt water and shivering in a sleeping bag. It has to end, you’re hungry, you’re tired, you’re absolutely exhausted to your very bones.

“Mac, Trink and Lennox and whoever the last--”

“Girl from five.” Finnick interrupts, and you nod.

“Girl from five.” you agree.

“What about them?” his hands are very gentle on your sides, and they eventually fade away in the water.

“They need to--” you try, but Finnick’s hand really is ripped from your arm now, jerking you harshly. You’re about to complain, until he’s pulled beneath the water, sending water flying into the air, “Finnick?” 

How? How has he--you’re standing in the water! You’re fucking standing in it!”

You take in a deep breath, even though your lungs complain, following Finnick under the water. And you see the crevice he slipped into. A ravine in the middle of the pond-lake, and it goes down a while.

He’s reaching up for you, pointing to his ankle, and then making a stabbing motion.

His knife is on the seafloor, so you grab it. Something is holding onto his ankle and he needs you to save him.

You return to the top for air, knowing that it’ll be your last for a few minutes, and then you dive down. It’s probably not smart to have the knife sticking out from your mouth, or for it to be placed there in the first place, but it makes it easier for moving your arms. Before you know it, you’ve hit the crack, and you’re getting closer to Finnick by the second.

You take it out of your mouth, offering the handle to Finnick. His fingers graze it, and then he takes it after. Your lungs are burning, and you wish you could stay, but you’ll only drown. He’s working at his ankle, as you’re swimming up and occasionally looking down at him.

Then, he gets free, and he’s swimming faster than you are straight towards the top. On the way, he makes you wrap your arms around his torso, before he continues. When you’ve broken the surface, he’s gasping for air, you have a pounding headache, and it feels like you’ll never be able to hold air ever again.

“We need to leave.” you tell him, taking his arm as you pull him back to the waterfall, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” he tells you, and hisses when you take his hand instead.

You pull it up to look at, tilting your head when you can’t see anything, but then you bring it closer, seeing all the little cuts on his fingers, palms…

“Are you using vines?” you turn to look at him, he nods.

“How’d you know?”

“Because Blaire had the same cuts.”

“Sounds like you and Blaire were getting cozy.” he mutters.

“No time for jealousy after you ran off with Thyme.” you tell him, “the cuts aren’t poisonous I don’t think. You’ll live.”

“Thanks.” he says, “Hungry?”

“I guess.”

It’s a bummer that the pond-lake time was cut short. You were really looking forward for planning out the future. What you want to do as soon as you’re better. Mags has to send shit now, you’re awake and there’s no better way to heal your wounds than when you’re cognizant. 

You’re ringing out your hair, which has grown a little longer in your time of being in the arena, when there’s a series of chimes, stopping you. Finnick looks to the sky from where he’d been staring off into the water.

“What the hell?”

“Congratulations on being the final six alive.” The gamemaker tells you guys, you feel like this is a trap, and you reach for Finnick immediately, he takes your hand, “There has been a rule change. If you and your district partner are still alive, then both of you may be crowned victors in these hunger games.”

You turn to Finnick the same moment he looks to you.

The gamemaker repeats what he says, as if you guys don’t understand. But you heard him the first time. A loud, crystal clear rule change. Who else would miss something this big?

“We can go home.” You laugh, grabbing Finnick, “Four more people and then we can go!”

“Only four?”

“Only four.” You confirm, pulling him closer.

-- CHAPTER FOURTEEN --

The rule change benefits two districts only. There’s obviously yours, you and Finnick are very much alive. District four has to be celebrating at this exact moment. Mox definitely cried when he received the news, and Reed was surprised. You can see it now.

This isn’t the first time the gamemakers have made this change. Every now and then, when there are districts with two people left in them, they’ll make this change. The particular district that wins, brings home their two kids. Celebrations are grand, bigger and better. And it’s expected that the winners are especially grateful. After all, you guys are supposed to be learning from your mistakes your ancestors made.

It’s only happened ten other times in the last sixty years. It’s not allowed during the Quarter Quells, at all. Because those are the special events. The twenty-fifth they chose the tributes, the fiftieth they got double the amount, and in eleven years there will be a third one. You’re just glad that you’re going to be a victor now. So they can’t throw a huge twist like six kids go in or something.

The rule change is never predicted, it’s a random choice. There have been times in the past where someone was able to guess that it would happen. People found out the system on why they did it, and started to find their way around it. After having the rule change twice in a row, the gamemakers realized that tributes were manipulating it.

They would choose the couples. So when everyone was beginning to cuddle up with each other—except for the huge age gaps like the twelve year olds and the fifteen—it became more common. Again, they figured this out and stopped doing it. Now it’s a once in a blue moon sort of thing.

You got really lucky.

You know that Reed is on the edge of his seat now. He’s cheering you on harder, telling you more advice, even if you can’t hear it. He has to be driving everyone around him nuts, even himself. He’ll be afraid to get on the boat to fish because he doesn’t want to miss anything important, like you or Finnick dying. Reed will be counting on Finnick to keep alive.

However, if Finnick were to die, it’s not an automatic crowning to district one—they have Trink and Lennox still alive, which is why there’s a rule change—they have to survive the other tributes. Kill one of them, Trink or Lennox, it doesn’t matter, then the rules will revert. There will be one victor only.

You could still very much win, it would be a lot more difficult. You’ll be fighting against the four others to make it home. Trink or Lennox would have to be the first to go. To even the playing fields, if one of them is dead, then they can’t team up against anyone. 

District One will probably shower the brats with all the riches they can afford. You wouldn’t doubt it if they got special treatment from the Capitol too. They have so many goddamn victors, it’s annoying. There are constantly houses being built for a new victor each year. They don’t win? No biggie, they’ll win next year.

Four won’t get the same treatment as one, or two. You guys will get the houses, the infinite riches and the celebrations the same as everyone else. But it won’t be as grand, it’ll be like the other districts. Four is a career but four is treated like it’s one of the rich districts but nothing important.

Anyway, the rule change is very important. Keep you and Finnick alive, kill the others and go home. You need to wipe out Trink or Lennox, either or, doesn’t matter. And the others will fall into your hands eventually.

“These vines are insufferable.” Finnick whines, you look from where you’re sitting to see that his hands are completely raw.

“Stop touching it!” You kick his arm with your foot, before going back to the fish.

“I can’t, it needs to be fixed.” Finnick mutters, you get up, yanking the damn thing out of his hands before throwing it through the water, “Hey!”

“Mags will send us rope or something,” you tell him, going to look at his expensive ass gift in the corner of the cave, “And then we can make a proper net.”

“Do you even know how?” Finnick puts his hands into the water to wash them off.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Blaire taught me how. I’ll be able to make a sturdy net with some rope.” You tell him.

You take a moment, deliberating if you want to go through the water or not. But the music from a sponsor makes your ears perk up practically, and you’re stumbling through the water, trying to keep your balance from the force of the water. 

Mags has sent a couple of things since you woke. The first thing is the cream for the wound on your side. You’ve been applying it every night, and it’s done it’s magic. It’s nothing but a bright pink scar now. She had nothing for bruises, or broken bones. So you’ve had to tough it out.

Finnick got his gift a couple days after he had left, sometime during the second week. You hadn’t even noticed it until you and him went back inside after the rule change. To see the silver trident staring back at you. Finnick was all smug talking about how it had to have cost thousands. All you could say was that he could have done just the same with a spear. But he told you that it wasn’t the same.

Whatever, both of you have your respected weapons now. He told you his technique on how he killed so many. You listened as he informed you of the net, that he would throw over the people, get them trapped and tangled. Then he would come in with the trident and kill them just like that.

Unfortunately, with that technique, it meant he kept losing the vine-nets. He’s made four, and he was on his way to making the fifth. Finnick wasn’t too fond of the idea of untangling the bodies of the people he killed from the nets. So instead he just let the gamemakers take them, because they’ll be able to cut it apart and take the body after that. Plus, he didn’t want to take the chance of the gamemakers getting impatient.

But with a rope, no more tiny cuts in the hands. It saves time, it means you guys can kill more people with the light through the waterfall technique. It draws people in, he nets them, kills them, and then the process repeats. But the nets took so much time to make that it would be hard to get two in a day.

Finnick splashes through the water faster than you can. On the way, he steps on the vine-net, and he hisses. Jumping on one foot for a second, holding the other he whines about the thorns. And then he continues, wobbling on his feet slightly.

“This is why you wear shoes!” You tell him, kicking the vines off to the side, away from where either of you would bother to go.

“It’s the hunger games, I don’t need shoes!” He tells you, grabbing the floating sponsor gift. He brings it all the way back over, being careful not to let it touch the water.

It would be fine, if it can float in the water, then it can sink or take in some. It’s probably waterproof, actually. But you can say that you’ve ever seen a gift sent when the tributes were in the water. This is a first for you.

Finnick stands on the rocks next to you, and carefully unravels the parachute, and then opens the lid. It’s a fairly big gift, so when it shows a shit ton of rope, you cheer slightly.

“See! Told you—“

Finnick tilts his head, pulling up the paper. It’s sogs a little in his fingers since they’re wet, but it would be the same for you. Going through the waterfall had completely soaked you like you were swimming in the pond-lake like Finnick had.

“It’s from our district.” Finnick tells you, moving it so you can see.

And clear as day, it says, “This will work better than vines, District Four.”

Tears gather in your eyes and you have to cover your face for a moment, “Just a second.”

“Don’t worry, I’m crying too.” Finnick laughs, and you move your hands.

He pulls out the rope, weighing it in his hands, “Can this stand four more?”

“It could stand the entire twenty-two had we gotten it at the beginning.” You laugh, he joins in.

You look to the water, there has to be a camera on you somewhere, “Thank you, it won’t go to waste. We love you, and we’ll both be home soon, I promise.”

Finnick nods along, “We miss you tons.”

“Can’t wait to start fishing again.” You snicker, and Finnick punches your arm this time, “No but seriously, thank you.”

You and Finnick slip into the cave, being sure to cover the rope so it doesn’t get wet. When you get inside, you unravel the coil, and grab your knife.

“Gonna teach me how?” Finnick asks, you grin at him slightly.

“Sure. If you promise to be a good sport about it.”

—

If Finnick says that it has worked four times before, then it’ll work this time too, if the others will take the bait. The singles are probably desperate to wipe out the doubles so they’ll be able to go home. It’s the same tactic that you were saying before. They’ll be able to make it home if the doubles are taken out because they can’t team up.

The fire is like luring them to their deaths, almost. The both of you are prepared to take them down, and they might be thinking that you’re stupid for even trying a fire in the first place. Wondering how you’ve managed to stay alive so long with such stupid ideas. 

Instead, you guys are clever. You guys have got everything on lock. The fire, the net ready and the trident and spears within grasp if necessary. Unlike all the other times though, Finnick has someone to help. All it’ll take is for them to get caught and for him to stab. There’s no reason for him to even bother helping you with the net.

You’ve made it big enough for them to get caught in, and you didn’t cut the string for the rim. You pull it shut, there’s no escape, and they're tangled in the mesh. Finnick can get them within a couple of seconds, send the body off, and stomp out the fire. Make a new net, rinse and repeat.

“How do you like your fish? Burnt or extra burnt?”

“Preferably not burnt.” You look over to see that they’re practically black, “Remind me why I put you on cooking duty.”

“Because you were wallowing in your own misery?”

“Y’know Finnick, it’s really not that hard to not be a dick.” 

“Some girls think it’s charming.”

“I’m not some girls.” You huff, “But I’m guessing Thyme was?”

Finnick rolls his eyes before shoving the burnt fish your way, “I didn't like her like that.”

“Try again.”

“You are jealous.” He looks smug, again.

“Were you jealous when I told you that Blaire, boy from district three that I was hanging out with for a week straight, no supervision. Just me, him, the vines and the water were together? Him teaching me how to weave the vines, me feeding him so he didn’t die? Were you jealous then?” You tilt your head, watching as the smug falls and turns into something else.

“No.”

“Your voice cracked. You’re a fucking liar.” You tell him, “And by the way, it’s your own fault that I had to make friends with other people while you abandoned me. Leaving me to the fucking hounds.”

“You managed it seems.” He goes to eat.

“That’s not the point.” You tell him, “Partners in crime. An alliance! We were in this together!”

“At least we’re in it together now.”

“Yeah,” you mutter bitterly, going to eat.

It has to be only five minutes of silence, before the splashing of water interrupts you both. Finnick jumps immediately, kicking everything out of the way as quickly and quietly as he can. You take one final bite, getting a mouthful before the net is in your hands.

“Dumbasses.” It's a female voice, but it’s not Trink.

“Who?” you mouth to Finnick, and he thinks for a moment.

“Girl from five.” he mouths back, and then shrugs, “Trink?”

You shake your head.

The splashing gets louder as time goes on, and then you can just barely see her silhouette through the water. Finnick nods to you, letting you know that you should do it.

You get a little closer, hands through the water and then you toss it. There’s a yelp, and you yank the rope, trapping her inside. Finnick goes through the water.

“Wait!” the girl screams.

“Who’s the dumbass now?” Finnick asks, and then the cannon sounds.

Crouching down, you cut the rope, “You can send her into the water.”

“The careers--” Finnick barely gets out, you grab onto the spear. Your heart is pounding in your ears when you stumble through the water.

It’s just Lennox in the water, and he’s bearing a sword. When he sees you, he hisses, “Bitch!”

He turns to leave, but you raise the spear, going to throw it. Finnick grabs your hand, stopping you, “Not today.”

“I can hit him.” you reason, and Finnick goes to your ear.

“They’re going to want a show.”

He’s right, Snow will want a show. So, you’ll just have to wait for another time to kill them. It’s a shame, because you could wipe Lennox right off the fucking map, and all you’d have to kill is Mac and Trink.

When Lennox is out of sight, you send the girl from five off. 

“He knows where we’re staying.” you lean into Finnick a little.

“He won’t come until he’s prepared with Trink,” Finnick tells you, and you watch as the girl gets taken away. You wonder how the family is taking it. If you make it, then that means on the victory tour you’ll have to see their families.

For you, five to six--you’re not sure if the five girl will count as the sixth, since you didn’t kill her directly, you just assisted--different families you have to face. Stand tall and bear your chest and try not to cry because you’re guilty to the very last cell. You killed their family. You killed that twelve year old boy from twelve.

You killed the girl from ten, the boy from eleven, Eytelle, the boy from twelve and Allio. And now the girl from six. You’ve got five deaths on your hands, and you’ll have to face them.

Is it even worth it?

Yes, it is. You’ve gone all this way, you can’t just bow out of it now. You’re almost done, three more to go.

“I’ll go make a net big enough.” you turn, leaving Finnick outside.

-- CHAPTER FIFTEEN --

The sound of a cannon jolts you awake. Finnick, who’s beside you, jumps three feet in the air as he suddenly reaches for his trident. He creeps out of the only sleeping bag that you have, and he goes to the water. Before he can cross it, you grab his ankle.

“You’ll get all wet.” you whisper.

“I need to see.” he tells you, but he knows you’re right. So he strips free of his boots, socks, jacket, shirt, and pants.

He leaves it in a disorganized pile off to the side. Out of reach of any water that might backsplash when he walks through. You watch as he winces at the cold water, before disappearing. The faint sound of splashing allows you to calm down a little bit.

It would be a blessing to get up and follow him. So he wouldn’t be going out there alone, you’d be right next to him in case there is someone else. Ready to pounce and strike.

They know where you are, so sitting here, inside of this cave makes you feel like you’re trapped. At any given moment they could show up and you would be fucked. Especially with Finnick gone, there’s nothing you can do.

Whatever you caught while being in here, it’s bedridden you. Getting up and around is painful. It’s hard enough to sleep at night when it feels like a thousand tiny needles are jabbing into your stomach. It took you over two hours to fall asleep, and you can take a safe bet that you only slept for a couple of hours.

It feels like it’s only been a couple of hours. You should be wide awake, ready to help Finnick if he were to call for help, but your eyes are drooping. Begging for another couple of hours before your body realizes you’re awake and starts the pain. You don’t close your eyes, laying your head down instead.

The spashling has long since stopped. It’s almost pure silence, except for the sound of cicadas and the random shuffling of leaves. The water is a constant, you’ve managed to drown it out by now. Not even background noise, it’s silence due to the consistency. However, you can hear the waves, coming up onto the shore of the rocks nearby.

You try to focus on them, hoping that there will be an irregular rhythm, but it turns out that they too have their own system. Before you know it, your eyes have closed on their own. You grind your teeth to keep yourself awake, it doesn’t work. Your jaw will go slack and it jolts your awake almost.

With a sigh, you push yourself up. Your muscles complain, and you’ve already stirred something in your stomach. Ignoring it, you begin pulling off your own boots, following with the socks.

You strain to hear any sort of sound that would indicate that he’s alive. Water splashing, heavy breathing, the trident accidentally hitting the rocks, but you get nothing.

The clothes come off a little faster now, socks, jacket, pants. You take a breather because the shirt is going to cause more pain that it’s worth. When you feel like you can tolerate it, two hands on the bottom of the cloth, and a quick movement. 

The stabbing appears, and the lines are blurred between your still very broken ribs or the sickness in your stomach. When the shirt is off of you, and you have a moment to breathe, nausea hits you like a truck. You place your hand on the wall to steady yourself, thinking that the cold will jolt your brain.

It works a little bit, but the idea of you puking is at the front of your mind now, unwillingly. You can’t puke, it’s taken you days to work up an appetite. Whatever you have has completely gotten rid of hunger, which is making you drop weight. Finnick can see it, you know.

He gets this worried look in his eyes each time he watches you get up and move. Or try to choke down food, even if it makes you gag. He probably isn’t on your back about it because he knows that you’re trying. You’re not trying to be bedridden, you’re not purposely starving yourself. He knows you want to live, and you guess that he’s waiting for the moment you give up.

It’s charming for him to be worried like that but it makes you feel like a baby. If you wanted to be babied, you would have acted like this since the beginning, even if you weren’t sick. Being incapable of taking care of yourself isn’t a trait that you want in here. Doesn’t get sponsors, at all.

As you get up, you feel like you’ve gained forty years of age. Your muscles are aching, everything hurts in general. The dizziness and the pounding headache comes back. Besides this all, you reach over for the spear, using it as a cane as you hobble your way out of the cave.

The water is cold, and once again, the force of tons of water hitting you nearly knocks you off your feet. On a regular day, sickness and injury free, you would be able to walk through this like it’s nothing. Look at what time has done to you. Made you the goddam laughing stock of the pen.

It’s still dark out, the moon is fairly high, you guess that it’s midnight to one in the morning. It’s an odd time for someone to die, unless Trink and Lennox we’re hunting down Mac or something. Could be the other way around and got himself killed. Mac killed one of them, got away. One of them died of the same sickness you have…

Possibilities are endless here. There’s hundreds of ideas they could have used on you guys. You just want to know what’s so special about midnight, if the gamemakers had done it. Maybe all of you are having trouble sleeping and this is their way of torturing you guys. Subtly, and with sacrifices.

There’s no sight of Finnick, anywhere. Even though you’re already soaking wet, you’re not too fond of the idea of going into the water. The night time is when the creatures come to life. If Finnick had gotten grabbed, then that’s it for him. You can’t go in to save him blind, the automatic right to the win would be given to District One.

You sit in the cold water, knees to your chest as you look over the water, and then the nearby trees. Then to the sky as if they’ll display whoever it is that died. You’ll have to wait tomorrow to see, unless that’s what Finnick is doing.

If he went to the cornucopia by himself then he’s stupid. You get the motive—he goes to see if Trink and Lennox are there, then comes back without being seen—but he’s half naked, soaked in water with a metal trident. The motherfucker is probably slipping and sliding out of his hands. 

You sit out there for another ten minutes, no longer tired, splashing the water onto your stomach every now and then to ease the pain. Eventually, you hear splashing that isn’t coming from you. Your eyes dart over, and you see Finnick, trident in hand as he wades through the water. He makes stabbing motions to keep the creatures away.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be so long.” Finnick tells you, “But it’s hard to leave when they’re talking about an attack plan.”

You perk up, “You’re forgiven, what did you hear?”

“Well, Mac is the one that’s dead.” He tells you, but you guessed that already. The psychopaths from district one are smarter than whatever Mac did to die.

“That’s fine.” You tell him, “A bummer, he was nice. But fine.”

Finnick chuckles, he takes a seat next to you, and then presses a quick kiss to your lips. You scowl, because you’re not looking forward to him getting sick too. But really, he would have had to be sick by now if it’s contagious. What the fuck did you get sick off of?

“They want to attack in two days. Build up on body weight and all of that again. They don’t know if we’re the ones that are dead or killed Mac or whatever. Taking a guess it was Mac that died at least.” He informs, you nod along to it. 

“Two days to plan their murder, huh?” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he chuckles.

“Any ideas?”

“A few.” You admit, a small smirk coming over your face, “Remember how Lennox choked me?”

“Wasn’t there but yes.” He says, crossing his legs.

“And my last name is Gallows…” you trail off, splashing water a little bit.

“Uh huh.”

“What if we take that extra rope, tie it into a noose, lure him in and hang him?” You look over to see him with the same sickening grin that’s covering your face.

“Sounds interesting. Who’s luring and how are we hanging?”

—

Finnick has to watch you way more carefully now. One of your hands are either on his shoulder, so that you may catch yourself in case you stumble. Or it’s in the crook of his arm, where he’ll be able to swoop you into his arms if your legs buckle beneath you. The sickness is eating away at your muscle.

There are times when you’ll be standing, perfectly fine, and you’ll forget about the illness altogether. And then, your legs will give out, Finnick is diving across the room to catch you so you don’t snap anything like a wrist, trying to catch yourself. Your body will slump, like you’re lifeless, but you’re so very aware of it.

It’s scaring him now. He doesn’t think you’ll make it out alive, he thinks that you’ll die in here, from whatever you caught. You’re not hungry, you gag and throw up most of the food you get down. The lack of exercise is diminishing what little muscle you came into the arena with. There’s a high fever, you’re sweating almost constantly, but then the chills will swoop in out of nowhere. Not to mention the round-the-clock headache. 

You want it all to stop. You’ve never got this sick back home, it was the common flu that went around. Only the very, very poor, skinny kids would die to it, since their immune system can’t handle anything. But that’s hardly ever the case, even the poorest people in the district have a fair chunk of change to carry around.

If you’re going to die from whatever Capitol-altered disease, you’d just have it done in a snap. It’s been almost a week of you having it. And the fact that it had gotten so bad overnight is not a good sign. It was just earlier this morning, midnight when you were conspiring with Finnick on how to end this.

It evolved and it’s completely ruined your body within an eight to eleven hour time span. This means that today, tomorrow, or the day after are your final days. You die tonight, it just leaves Finnick to deal with the others. You can’t do that to him, you can’t send him home alone after all that has happened.

You’re not going to give this up.

“Eat.” Finnick shoves the fish into your hands and you take in a small breath, to keep your side from being stabbed. 

“Finnick this won’t stay down.” you tell him calmly, but you pick it apart anyway, using the water to drink it down.

And then you stop as you stare at the water, then back to the fish. There’s only really two ways you could have gotten sick. It wasn’t because of Blaire, he was healthy as fuck, and the only reason why he died was because he attacked Lennox while he was trying to kill you.

You couldn’t have picked it up from Trink, Allio or Lennox--assuming that it had some sort of incubation period--because that means they would have to be crawling with the disease too. From what Finnick has told you, they seem to be just fine. You’re the only one dying in here. 

Finnick is an automatic no, he isn't sick either and he isn’t catching it. Another reason why you couldn’t have caught it from the others, is because it doesn’t seem to be contagious through human contact.

Which narrows down the possibilities. You got it from eating berries and leaves, fish, or the water. You haven’t eaten berries and leaves in a while though, so those have to be out of it.

It’s the water and the fish, they have something to do with it. It can’t be an allergic reaction, because it doesn’t deteriorate the body like this. If it was a reaction, then you’d be breaking out in hives, through closing in and you’d been dead by now. Unless it’s a small allergy, but that’s not the case either. 

“Finnick, what are some diseases passed through water?” you ask, slowly setting the food down.

He tilts his head slightly, “Uhh, E coli, Cholera, Typhoid, Salmonella--? Why?”

Typhoid is the one you recognize, because of the few cases some of the neighborhood kids back home had. With the right treatment, they wouldn’t die, but for the few who let it go on for too long, or didn’t have the money to pay for it, their kids--or themselves--would die. 

“The symptoms to…” you lean back, “What’s the--?”

The headache seems to increase, stopping you from thinking any further. You press the heels of your hands to your temples to ease the pain. Of course, it does nothing, but it feels better than just sitting there. You clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes, rocking back and forth.

Think, think!

What the fuck is the cure to Typhoid? Hell, what are the symptoms? What’s it related to? How can you get it?

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?”

Few cases back home. Parents who go down to the sea to collect water. Use for baths, and the kids accidentally drink it. It’s not the salt its--its the bacteria.

“Water,” you look to Finnick, “Have you been treating the water?”

His face twists, and then he pales, “I--I forgot once--”

That’s enough for you to catch it. Just a little bit of contaminated water will get it going. Your body has been fighting off this sickness for a week, and it took you this long to think it over. 

That’s not the matter, though. The matter, is that if you don’t get medicine, you’ll die from it being untreated.

“Mags, if you’re listening--it’s Typhoid fever,” you tell her, “Untreated it’ll kill me. Please, please send me something. Whatever it is that’ll cure it. One pill or sip is better than none, please.”

Finnick looks guilty, but you don’t care. It was an honest mistake, he didn’t know that the water was carrying the disease. None of you would have ever knew if he hadn’t accidentally skipped it. You’d still be up on your feet moving around like none of it ever happened.

This must be what he’s thinking, “Finnick, don’t punish yourself for this. Not now, do it later when we win.”

“What if we don’t win because of my mistake?” he asks, you point your finger.

“Hope. You have hope now, because I can’t carry it for the both of us. I forgive you, we’re going to win.”

Silence, as you wait for the sound of a sponsor gift. But the chiming never sounds, letting you know that you’re on your own. It must be far too expensive, or they just can’t hear you.

“We have better things to worry about, Finn.” you shake your head, “We need to do it tomorrow. We can’t wait until the end of the week.”

“I know.” he whispers, “Are you sure?”

“We have to.”

-- CHAPTER SIXTEEN --

There used to be a song that your mother would sing when you had caught the cold. It was more of a poem, but she would sing it like a lullaby to ease your headache and get you tired. It would always be the first couple nights of the cold, which are the worse days, and as it got better, she would stop. A bedtime remedy, to getting you to fall asleep quickly instead of letting you toss and turn through the night.

As you lay awake most of the time now, you think of it all the time. Reciting the words back to yourself softly. You can’t necessarily sing it without waking Finnick, so instead you turn it from a chant to a couple of lines at a time. You decipher the words, find meanings and then you’ll repeat it back to yourself when they make sense. 

It tires you out a lot quicker than you thought it would. Lately, it’s been working like a charm. Tonight, it offers no comfort though, because later today, you’ll be luring the last two tributes to their deaths. You’ll be using the last of your strength to win the games. If today doesn’t work, you give yourself permission to fall over and croak.

You’re in the final hours of your life. Finnick might be seeing it, but it’s not as clear to him. He’s not feeling all of it directly, he’s watching you pretend. He’s not seeing the way that you flinch and wince when his back is turned. If only he saw how much pain you’re in. 

The second you win, you’ll be fine. You’ll be on that hovercraft, they’ll be feeding you to doctors as Finnick has to watch. They’ll be hooking you up to water and liquid food, and medicine that stops the pain and diminishes the fever. They’ll be working their best to save you, because they can’t have a victor die on the craft. 

Finnick wouldn’t need anything done to him. They’d probably take him and marvel. They’d have to fix up a few scars but that would be it. There would be no reason to save him from anything. Unless something goes wrong today, he gets stabbed or something. Not going to happen on your watch, even if he doesn't like it.

The sun rises a little faster now, and you come to terms with the fact that you'll be working off of nothing today. There’s a few things to do to set up the scene, and then you’ll be able to execute it perfectly. 

“Finnick.” You nudge lightly, he opens his eyes slowly, “It’s time.”

“Did you even sleep?”

“An hour or two.” You tell him, “Woke up an hour or so ago. Not much.”

“Okay,” he says, you slip out of the bag first. Your muscles slowly stretch, making a low groan come from you. You’ve been stiff for long enough, your body thinks that you’re a statue.

Finnick slowly starts pulling out food, you make the last fire you’ll ever have to make in your life. When it sparks, your hands go over it immediately, the fever might be burning your forehead, fueling your headache but it’s also controlling the chills. The truth is, is that you’re cold as fuck. When you leave, the water will make it worse. But you’ll get there when the time comes.

The both of you heat up the food, watching as Finnick uncoils the rope, trying the noose. You don’t ask him how he knows to tie it, you just watch, and then you prod yourself a little bit. Taking in an assessment of how you’ll be able to turn your body.

Your ribs on your left side are still very painful, turning that way is like getting stabbed. It’ll take a while for them to heal, unless the Capitol has something for that, to get it to speed up and get placed right back where they need to be, not floating around in your body, causing more harm than good.

The bruises are almost gone, they’re just a very light purple now. Pressing on them doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s nothing compared to everything else that you’re feeling. Your body as a whole is weak, so there's no worry about specific knees or arms, it’s just the both of them. Not good, but you won’t have to catch yourself before you use the wrong one. You’re always taking a chance.

All cuts are now scabs, there’s a few more scars here and there, but besides that, you’re ready to go. Finnick finishes eating pretty quickly, you guys finish off all the food that you had set aside. You feel absolutely sick to your stomach, since it was hard getting it down in the first place. Overfeeding isn’t helpful by any means, until you’re trying to put on weight.

If you guys get hungry later on, it’s possible to grab something from the pond-lake or whatever. You’ll be inside of the woods, near the middle, but it won’t be that far from the pond-lake if lunch would be needed. But by the look on Finnick’s face, he’s not that hungry either. He stuffed himself just as badly as you had. 

He shoves everything into the backpack. The rope, what water you guys have, which he still looks guilty about. Small meaningless knives that you don’t need, the works. After that, he helps you onto your feet, you both take your weapons of choice, and leave the cave.

There was no point in stomping out the fire, you guys won’t be back. Which is why you guys left the sleeping bag, and all the other little things that came with the backpacks when you got them. For all you care, they can burn up in a blaze. The fire will put itself out before it reaches the water.

Finnick leads the way through the water. Instead of going straight out of the waterfall, a little to the left, you guys go right diagonally. If you were to go straight, you’d head right for the cornucopia. You guys want to do it in one of the big ass trees, out of sight of them in case they were to come looking.

You hold Finnick’s trident, as he holds the backpack above the water since it isn’t waterproof, and you guys don’t want the rope to get wet. You’d rather it be dry, it’ll be more harsh when it gets around Lennox.

“Almost home.” 

“We should have built a treehouse. I mean, it’s been a month, we had the time.” You laugh, he snickers.

“Gamemakers would have had a fire.”

“Wouldn’t have been smart. I’m sure that the tourists would have loved to stay in a personalized treehouse! Oh Finnick, do you think we have time?” You bat your eyelashes when he looks to you, he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can hardly stand.” 

“So? It won’t be so hard.” You reason about the hypothetical treehouse, daydreaming about having one. What would go inside, how much time it would take. How you would replace materials like nails with vine and all that. Or very thin rocks that you can hammer into the wood.

“No treehouse.” Finnick tells you, and then the both of you laugh at each other.

When you reach the land finally, you guys take the time to ring out your clothes. Then you continue to the place that Finnick had picked out last night. When you get to it, you’re thoroughly impressed to see that it’s a big ass tree, and there’s plenty of land around to run around in. This is a place you could build a house, raise a family and all of that.

Finnick unpacks the rope, you take it, throwing it around your neck to keep it from going anywhere. You tuck your spear between your pants and belt, with the blade down. You take your water and put it in your jacket, Finnick kisses you quickly, wishes you good luck, and then you turn to the tree.

Spear, rope, water, a good luck kiss. Now, to climb the tree without falling. Your body will complain and give you hell for this, but it’s all for the greater good. 

You climb the tree slowly, being careful of your left side. Right hand, left hand, right foot, left foot. Occasionally you’ll reach higher than you should, wobble, but catch yourself the next time around.

The spear gets in the way and you have to keep moving the water to where it needs to be. You take a break on the sturdy branches, and continue when it’s just enough to make it to the next one.

Before you know it, you’re at the one branch that stretches over Finnick below you. You wrap your legs around the branch, and even go as far as to tie the non-noose end of the rope to your body. Then, you strip free of the jacket, dropping it for Finnick. The boots follow, and you’re disappointed to see that he dodges where you tried to drop it on him.

“Pants too?” You ask, Finnick shakes his head.

You take a long drink of water, since the sun is in your eyes. And then you take another before dropping it for Finnick, setting up the scene where Trink and Lennox will come along just to die.

Lennox is going to be heavy, he’s had plenty of food to eat from because of the middle. He’s going to weigh what he normally did when he came in. Maybe a few pounds shorter. You however, aren’t at all where you need to be. 

The big breakfast helped, but it wasn’t perfect. You’ve got one, two, possibly three pounds more than you had originally. You’ll fail when it comes to pulling Lennox up with the rope using just your muscle strength. To actually hang him, he’ll need something to balance out his weight, almost.

He’s going to be below you, you get the noose around his neck, you yank and what? Choke him for a split second? Finnick will be fucked.

You didn’t propose this part of the plan to Finnick because you knew he would say no. He won’t ever say yes to something this dangerous and risky, which is the exact reason why it’s going to work. Risky, but odds in your favor.

“I’m ready.” Finnick tells you, you nod.

“Let’s do it!”

You cut yourself free quickly, then you measure out just about what you’ll need to fall through on this. Your eyes keep darting to Finnick, worried about when he’ll yell.

You drape the extra rope across the branch behind you, out of sight out of mind. The noose rope is shorter, but still long enough to reach Lennox. Finnick comes over now, standing right next to it, and nods up at you. Perfect length.

It’s going to get shorter though. You tie a constrictors knot, which will be impossible for the Capitol doctors to get off of you, but they’ll manage. They have to save you, and your leg if it’s possible. If there’s no reason to cut it off, then they can’t. It’s not a medical problem, it’s rope.

You dangle your leg, seeing how it reaches the same height as before presumably. Then, you draw some of it back up to keep out of sight of the others when they come in.

Just in time to listen to Finnick give a blood curdling scream. You clench your teeth together, eyes on the direction the others are going to be coming in at. Listening as Finnick continues to scream for your placebo self to wake up. Yelling for Mags to send in some sort of medicine, to save you.

“Please! Please!” Finnick screams, and at the first snap of a branch, your eyes flicker to Trink and Lennox, “No—!”

“She’s not dead yet?” You think you hear Trink ask.

You wonder if the Capitol can spare a false cannon to see what happens. If they’ll attack him immediately, like a bunch of rabid dogs.

“Leave her alone,” Finnick seethes, he’s crouched over, backing up which is drawing the others to walk over. You can see the smiles on their faces from here.

“I’ve got him.” Trink chirps.

“No!” Finnick lunges forward slightly when Lennox gets close to your body, you begin to lower the rope little by little.

Lennox jumps for your body, you can feel your heart pounding in your chest when you free the rope. Only to see it come up short.

“Shit.” You curse, and then you dip your leg over, getting it right around Lennox’s neck.

Finnick attacks Trink, who’s caught up watching the rope. She goes to warn Lennox, but Finnick shuts her up.

Before Lennox can do anything, you take a deep breath. Feeling the fear try to paralyze your body into rethinking this. You don’t let it, you throw your body the opposite side, to the left.

Lennox chokes, you feel the air on your skin as you watch the branch of the tree get further away. Until the momentum comes to a slow, and you’re dangling in the air by a rope from your foot.

You look to see Lennox, face turning purple as he grabs onto the rope to relieve the pain of choking, you curl your body slightly, pulling him up a little, and his eyes bulge. The sound of a cannon startles you, because it’s clearly not Lennox, who you’re staring at, and he’s staring at you. Still alive.

You go to yell Finnick’s name, but it gets caught in your throat. The blood is rushing to your head, the headache increasing in power. The pain just seems to skyrocket the longer you hang here.

“I’m alive.” Finnick tells you, and then you watch as his trident flies through the air.

It misses Lennox by an inch or two, getting lodged in the tree. You sigh, reaching for your spear now. You don’t want to get yourself free. You want to kill Lennox, and you’re sure that it will be a sight to behold, him hanging from a tree, with you suspending him on the other side, a spear through whatever you can get. 

With it in hand, you lean forward, your left side aches from the sit up. You and Lennox lock eyes, and he shakes his head slightly, beginning you not to even though his face is a deep purple and blood is coming out of his nose, trickling down his lips.

You draw your arm back, waiting for the rope to stop swaying, and then you launch it forward, the very last of your strength going along with it. You’re not even able to see if it goes through anything. The sound of a cannon gives it away.

“You did it!” Finnick yells, but his voice is drowned, you can hardly hear it.

You can feel your body relax, arms going past your head. You try to blink away the spots, but they don’t go anywhere. In fact, they take out your vision completely. 

—

I told her so, and if she say,

That she was wrong,

Then may it be,

A quick little bug,

That will come and go.

—

She will lay,

In clean, white sheets, 

A full tummy,

And a cup of tea,

She will rest,

And she will think,

How this will be,

The very last time.

—

But here comes grey,

Water-filled clouds,

She pulls on her shoes,

And her coat,

So that she may,

Go in the rain.

—

I will come,

To the porch,

To warm her of,

What may come,

She will laugh, 

She will splash,

But she won’t listen.

Then she will come later with;

Rain-soaked clothes,

Not feeling good,

And beg me to care for her.

(the poem is a circle).

--

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Haven (1/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise. 

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

Note: These little slices of life are in mostly chronological order and mostly follow the canon manga timeline, but there are various bits of divergence here and there. It's mainly focused on Trisha and Hohenheim and the Elric family in the beginning, but more characters and ships will be arriving later. Each chapter will state the focus characters/ships at the beginning.

==

Haven

[AO3]

One

Summary: A few months after Van Hohenheim starts to make his home in Resembool, Pinako Rockbell begins to learn his secrets, and to let him know that there is no need for him to hide.

Characters: Hohenheim, Pinako

==

It’s a well known fact in Resembool that if someone has a secret, it will be common village knowledge within about a week. 

This isn’t because the Resembool townsfolk are gossip-mongers or particularly nosy people. Well, they are nosy, but it’s with the best of intentions. If someone in Resembool is trying to hide something, then the rest of the town take it upon themselves to let them know that there is no need to hide in Resembool. 

For as long as the village has been standing, it has been a place of safety. Many generations ago, people realised that people usually hide things because they need help but they’re too afraid to ask. The Resembool spirit is that of helpfulness. A problem shared is a problem halved, and by the time it’s been shared with the whole town, someone somewhere will have come up with a solution to the problem. 

There is no need to hide in Resembool. Sitting as it does near the Eastern border and seeing the myriad souls coming and going, it’s become something of a melting pot despite being such a small village. It may be small, but the people there are anything but small-minded. They accept all sorts, from all backgrounds. It has always been the ideal place for anyone seeking to hide, anyone with a secret, because although that secret will no longer be secret within the village, the village will keep that secret from outsiders and will take it to the grave. 

When the man known as Van Hohenheim arrives in Resembool, he does not at first know the village’s quirks and their well-meaning nosiness. He is a man of many, many secrets, and he picked this place to settle as somewhere as out of the way as possible. He has finally made peace with the souls within him, and he wants to stop in one place to find peace and space to breathe for himself. Not wanting his nemesis to have any hold over him and not wanting him to realise that he is still plotting against him even now, Hohenheim has chosen Resembool as somewhere remote where he can disappear and remain off the grid for a while. 

Hohenheim did not count on the sheer tenacity of Resembool’s residents, in particular one Pinako Rockbell.

It is Pinako who discovers Hohenheim’s secrets. Not all of them at once, but it’s Pinako to whom he gradually opens up after that first unintentional reveal. 

She learns his story by sheer stubbornness. 

Pinako decides that she’s going to befriend her new neighbour, and he doesn’t really get any say in the matter. She can see that he’s a solitary soul who keeps his cards close to his chest. She can see that he’s hiding, and over time, she tries to make him see that there is no need to hide in Resembool. They’ve taken all sorts into their midst; there’s not much that he could have done in his past that would make them recoil and run him out of town. If he’s a hardened criminal or sex maniac then perhaps, but he’s so mild-mannered and so much of an airhead that Pinako really doesn’t think he’s dangerous. Except perhaps to himself. 

It’s the ‘danger to himself’ part that reveals his true nature to Pinako, and she will admit that it throws her for six a little. Of all the things that she could have imagined about the very mysterious Hohenheim, being an invulnerable immortal was not one of them. She knows that he’s an incredibly skilled alchemist; everyone in town knows that. She does wonder if the alchemy is tied in with the fact that he just accidentally jabbed one of her screwdrivers through his palm and then pulled it out as if nothing had happened, red alchemic lightning crackling over his skin and healing him up, good as new.

Pinako sees the moment that he realises she saw this happen, and he looks like a deer cornered by a wolf, his gold eyes - such an unusual colour, and yet it looks so normal on him that no-one’s ever questioned his heritage - wide and scared. 

“Huh.” 

“For a long time, that’s all Pinako can say, because she’s having a bit of trouble processing what she’s just seen.

“I should go.”

Hohenheim is on his feet and almost out of the workshop, and Pinako knows instinctively that when he says ‘go’, he doesn’t just mean ‘leave the workshop’, he means ‘pack up and leave the village immediately by the next train, never to return’. She slides between him and the door to block his path. 

“Why?”

“Sorry?”

“Why do you think you need to go?”

He looks down at his undamaged hand, his other thumb rubbing almost unconsciously over the place where the screwdriver stabbed through. 

“Seriously, Hohenheim, you’re looking like I’m about to eat you. I swear I’m not going to. You’re way too hairy.”

He gives a snort of laughter and looks at her again. 

“You’re taking this very calmly,” he says eventually. “In the past, the reaction to that particular reveal has not been so calm. I find it best to leave before I’m chased.”

“Huh.” Pinako is still having trouble processing it, but she can see why the poor man is so closed off and distant from everyone now. Then she shrugs. “We get all sorts in Resembool.”

“You’ve never had anything like me before.”

“No. Never anyone like you.” Pinako notes the vocabulary, the way he refers to himself as a thing rather than a person. “But that’s no reason for you to leave.”

“I don’t think that the rest of the village would see it that way.”

“Then you clearly haven’t met the rest of the village. For the love of Something Up There, Hohenheim, sit down, stop worrying, and let me get the whisky out. You look like you could definitely use one.”

Cowed under the force of her determined friendship, Hohenheim returns to his seat, eyeing up the dropped screwdriver warily, as if it’s going to attack him. Pinako goes into the house and grabs the whisky and two large tumblers. If her husband is alarmed by this then he doesn’t show it, simply raising an eyebrow. 

“Is everything all right?”

“I think our next door neighbour is immortal,” Pinako says, completely matter of fact. “I’m going to try and find out how old he is.”

“That’s nice, dear.”

She’s pleasantly surprised to find that Hohenheim is still in the workroom when she gets back; she had half-expected him to have done a runner and she had visions of chasing him down the high street, still holding the whisky. 

“So… You’re immortal?”

Hohenheim scoffs. “I’m a monster.”

“I highly doubt that. No person who is actually a monster ever thinks that they are one.” She pours them both a generous measure. “So… You’re immortal?”

He sighs. “Yes. I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

Pinako takes a hefty glug of her drink. “How did that happen, then? Have you always been immortal? Or was it some kind of alchemy what-not?”

To give him his due, he does laugh at that.

“It was some kind of alchemy what-not. And it wasn’t intentional. But it’s not a story I want to share.”

“OK.” She’ll give him that. She’ll get the story out of him at some point, but considering she’s probably the only other person in the world who knows he’s immortal and has seemingly accepted it without an issue, he’ll likely take a while to open up more. “So how old are you?”

“I stopped counting.”

“Are we talking centuries or millennia here?”

“Four centuries. Give or take.”

“Huh.” Pinako reflects that she probably ought to try and say something slightly more eloquent, but Hohenheim doesn’t seem to mind and she was never one for flowery speeches anyway. “Where’ve you been all that time?”

“All over the place. Like I said, most people aren’t as accepting as you are.”

“Well, you’ll always have a home in Resembool.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he stays, and he drinks his whisky, and he’s still in Resembool the next day, so Pinako thinks that maybe he believes her.

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Three): Maybe God Is Just A Cop We Can Fast Talk

Notes: I’m trying to test out not stockpiling chapters and just post whatever I got when I got it. So, we’ll see how it goes. Additionally, apologies in advanced if my work is a bit more fucky on spelling and grammar from now on out. They use to have some degree of beta reading, but now it’s the wild west. It all depends on my brain, which is smooth. 

Word Count: 13,335

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, death, entirely too on the nose foreshadowing, f/f sex scene, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, masturbation, sex toy use, nipple sucking, dirty talk that may or may not be cringe (I had fun)

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V takes a deep breath as they pull into the parking garage of a large apartment building complex, her nose wrinkles. August has settled into Night City, air humid and thick, the stink of trash filling her lungs at every breath. The smell of NC in summer and a landfill are only a few degrees removed from one another. Jackie is in the passenger seat, nearly pressed shoulder to shoulder. Wakako is paying them to rescue some corpo chick, a gig V would usually roll her eyes at, but the apartment is a known Scavenger hideout. Without someone stepping in, the woman will be ripped apart, organs and cyberware chopped out to be sold. Corpo or not; no one deserves that.

The merc covers her lips with chapstick and a little above, so she smells the balm and not Night City, then dabs some on the inside of her mask as well. The trick reminds her of when her mother would have her and Eira smear homemade balm under their noses before going to pick through landfills; telling them stories of old plague doctors who’d shove cloves into beaked masks to avoid the stench of death. The chapstick isn’t quite so strongly scented as the mash of camphor, menthol, and coconut oil her mother would use. But it strikes that nostalgia bone nonetheless.

“Still not used to the smell?” Jackie taunts her, grin pulling at his lips.

“God, no,” she quickly signs, her choker translator off as she pulls on her mask.

“It grows on you.”

“Six months in and the only thing that’s grown on me is you.”  Her mask takes over translating her signing, though she’ll have to shut it off when they get in.

“Was that almost a compliment?”

“A compliment? From me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Pff, real funny,” he rolls his eyes, “chick we're looking for's somewhere in this building. Probably crawlin' with the pendejos that kidnapped her. Eyes and ears open, all right?"

“Opening my ears isn’t gonna help much, but alright.”

“You’re real close to my last nerve, chica,” he says but he’s smiling.

“Love you too, Jack, now, the fixer give you any tips?”

“I’m not your mother,” he tries to mimic the older woman’s voice, “just do what I pay you for, it’s easy work. Sh, yeah.”

“Okay, let’s do this.”  

With that Jackie and V leave the car, stepping out into the garage. The taller of the two checks his two pistols, ensuring the gold emblazoned weapons are loaded and ready for the mess that surely awaits them. There’s no telling how many Scavvs are here, the body hacking gangers the equivalent of cockroaches. She checks her own .50 caliber pistol,  it’s loaded and she has a knife strapped in a holster on her thigh.

“Elevator. This way.” Jackie nods towards the elevator in the parking garage, leading the way as V follows behind. Dirty elevator doors open for them, the words NO FUTURE scratched across the stained metal. The two mercs step inside, V leaning against a graffiti covered wall, leg shaking with anxiety.

A digital interface, T-Bugs avatar appears at the elevator button panel, flashes of code as the runner quickly hacks through it without needing an apartment key. The doors close and the rusty elevator lurches into movement, heading up.

“Target's Sandra Dorsett. Target's biomon went mute a couple hours back. Suspected abduction. Target could've possibly flatlined already. Not sure you're in time,” Bug’s voice comes through V’s hearing aids, subtitles on her mask for good measure, as the runner delivers her warning. That’s always a risk with rescue jobs, but they have a decent track record for getting to people in time.

“We're in time, Bug,” Jackie corrects her, “ we. Sure, you're on phones, but… that don't make you any less a part of this squad.”

"Squad… Charming.” V can nearly hear the Bug rolling her eyes.

“Awww, c’mon Bug, you know we need you.”

“No arguments there, without me you gonkbrains probably be shot to death by turrets or sitting in jail by now. “

“And without us, you’d have to step foot outside your apartment.”

“A true horror,” Bug mocks, a scoff in her voice as the elevator stops, doors opening, “focus now, You’re lookin' for twelve thirty-seven.”  

V and Jackie step out of the elevators, greeted to trash strewn apartment halls, graffiti scratched across every inch. Hands on their iron, the mercs make their way down the hall. With a thought V mutes the translation tech in her mask, linked to her neuralware, that way a stray hand gesture won’t give them away.

“Han, is that you?” An older woman starts to step out of her apartment.

V quickly waves her hand, signaling the woman to make herself scarce and she nods before running back in. Between the Scavenger’s victims and the innocent residents; there’s a lot of room for potential casualties. Low profile is essential if they want to do a clean job.

“Target should be inside, but I got zero eyes on her biomon. Fingers crossed it's not too late. Ugh, hate this life or death shit,” T-Bug explains as they reach the door they need, “try hacking the door, think you can trip it on your own, V?”

V’s fingers itch to just pry the damn thing open or try to pick the lock, despite knowing the former would give them away and the latter is impossible with the electronic model of door. The young merc brings up the scanner of her mask, running a quick scan of the door and sending the quick hack through. It slides open, Jackie able to slip inside with her following close behind.

The doorway opens into a wider room and V’s heart sinks. The sticky cloying smell of blood claws its way through anything, so thick in the air that her efforts to block out the city smell are rendered useless.  There’s a steady but slightly muffled thrum of electronic music coming from the other room, not a Scavenger in sight, but their handiwork paints the room. Low grade medical equipment, a shitty old school heart monitor attached to a woman in a ripperdoc chair. The woman is dead, no monitor or scan needed to know that. Body ripped open, entrails spilling out, red spattering down the black leather of the chair. Blood paints the walls around her, her skin a sallow lifeless shade of gray. Her abdomen is a mess of bloody organs and half ripped out implants.

“Are we fuckin' late?! Is that her, is that our target, V?!” Jackie calls out, voice low and edged with worry in his voice as he tries to scream and whisper at once, gesturing with his gun as he points at the corpse.

V doesn’t bother to open her scanner, looking over the woman’s body, it's not hard to know this isn’t their target. No high up corpo would pack this crap. What implants remain are cheap and poorly installed, the ones around her eyes have left the skin creased and scarred. Worse quality than what someone would find in the poorest of Nomad clans. Likely, a joytoy, or perhaps a Maelstrommer as the shitty over the top implant installation is common among the gang.

“No,” V signs, looking up at Jackie, his eyes on her to subtitle the ASL, “our girl is protected under echelon II corpo immunity, this is back-alley black market crap, no corpo in their right mind would walk around with this shit.”

Jackie nods, his shoulders losing a little of their tension as he moves up to a door, the music louder as he just opens the door peeking through, trying to get a feel for the room before they go through. Judging by the music and the still fresh blood mingled with the older stains, the Scav haunt is still being used. Jackie pulls away from the door and presses against the wall next to it.

“V, mira, eyes up, pendejos ahead.” Jackie warns her as she puts her hands to the door, trying to peek through the crack, the music louder and less muffled with the door cracked. V can see plastic sheets, coolers, chop shop equipment as they butcher people. Through distorted bloodied plastic hung from the ceiling, the pendejo in question standing in front of a cooler, back turned.

“Drop him quiet, V.”

V takes a deep breath and counts the music beats, waiting for the tempo and volume to rise before she opens the door, hiding the creak of it behind the pumping club style music. The merc drops to a crouch as soon as she walks through, creeping up behind the Scavenger, pushing through plastic sheets, she unsheathes her tactical knife.

In one swift movement she stands and kicks out the man’s knee, bringing him down low enough to grab his face by his mask and pull him towards her. He has a mere moment to struggle in her grasp before she then sinks her knife into his skin, piercing the flesh and arteries where his neck meets his shoulder. He goes limp in her arms and she pulls her knife out with a twist, before she shoves him forward into the cooler. The lid shuts with a slight thud, drowned out by the music.

“Nice, couldn’t have done it better myself, chica,” Jackie praises as she wipes her knife off on her pants, red smearing across the black fabric.

“On your toes. More bodies incoming, they're almost on you,” Bug warns as the mercs move to the next room, creeping through the garbage strewn hall and going around a bend, an open doorway showing a group of Scavs.

Whether thanks to music or their own lack of intelligence, the gang members don’t hear them as they find a nook around the corner to hide. V pressing her body tight against a fridge, Jackie not far behind her.  The dark spot, appliances, and trash does well to hide the two from sight.

“Fistfuck these reapers. Oye, V! They're comin',” Jackie warns as two of the Scav start to come around the corner, “wait for your chance. Pick the prick off. “

Tucked away the two mercs aren’t noticed. She watches as the two men walk by, following a path down the hallway without noticing them. V tries to hear what they say, straining to hear over the music, something about scoring big, a chick with “preem ass chrome”.

“Cabrones… thick as locusts. Let's wait and plan a spree.”

V gives a nod, trying not to comment that they’ve already discussed this. Stealth has never been Jackie’s strongpoint, he talks too much, can’t stand the quiet. She watches as the two gang members turn their backs to the mercs. They stop at the end of the hallway to stand guard and V goes to move.

“Let's take 'em… Suerte.”

She tries not to shake her head, not to sign at him to stop talking. She’ll tease him for it later, the two stay in a crouch, creeping up behind the two Scavengers. The merc gets close enough to feel the warmth coming off the gang member's body, V and Jackie lunge at the same time. Jackie snaps the Scav on the left’s neck and V slices the throat of the one on the right; two men dead at their feet. She rummages through the freshly dead corpses pockets, adding a few eddies and a Max Doc to her own.

“All down, limp meat. But probably not the last of 'em,” Jackie says as they start back towards the corner, staying low and...mostly...quiet as they reach the open doorway, “Move on, move up. Right behind you, V.

Their hideaway corner has an open doorway in the room that leads to another larger room, windows at the far end and around  Shelves and cabinets of ammo and grenades fill the room, should be easy enough to stay out of sight. Three men that she can see, one closer to the doorway, easy grab. And if they time it right they can grab the other two in tandem.

V raises her knife to her chest, pressing the hilt to her skin, then pounces on the nearest ganger. She yanks his head back and onto the blade, the weapon piercing up through the base of his skull, as she drags his body back. He’s already dead by the moment she’s dragged him from the room, dropping his corpse where he won’t be seen.

“Careful, once you get the next two,” Bug warns, voice low, “goliath ass Scav the next room over.”

“Gotcha,” Jackie whispers as they start to make their way back into the room where the next two are.

V stays to the left side of the room and Jackie goes to the right, both staying low and close to cover. The younger takes a deep breath, the clutter and way the room curves means they’re out of sight range, making it harder to coordinate. Nonetheless, she mentally counts to three and jumps her target. She grabs the gang member by the chin, wrenching up his face as she slams her knife into the front of his throat,ripping it out with a spray of blood.

“What the fuck!?” A voice, deep and masculine yells out, just as Jackie snaps his target’s neck. A bulking mass of a man, around Jackie’s height has scrambled to his feet; a heavy machine gun in his hands.

“Fuck, eyes on you!!” T-Bug warns just as a bullet tears through V’s bicep, superficial, no pain as adrenaline spikes.

And the chaos starts as the bullets begin to fly, V grabs her pistol, takes aim into the room and starts fire while moving. Jackie doing the same, the pair scrambling behind a cabinet, crouched and facing one another. His sweaty forehead nearly smacking into her mask. The room around them tears and shatters with each bullet fired their way, none managing to hit them, she doesn’t think the ganger saw where they took cover.

Their pistols can’t cut through the rapid fire being shot their way.  Her heart is pounding, her fingers tight on the trigger, HMG’s need a cool off time. If they wait it out, his gun will overheat and they’ll have a window. And if he’s not coming to pick them off, playing the distance game, it means he’s dead set on protecting something; got to be Dorsett.

“Gun’s going to overheat, then we’ll get our chance,” V signs and speaks to Jackie at the same time, miscommunication not something that can afford right now. Her voice is rough and out of breath, her face wet with sweat behind her mask.

“Hijos de puta! Our target’s gotta be through there, V!”

“I know I know,” she squeezes his shoulder with one hand, the other still signing, “once the gun overheats , we’ll rush him and finish this up.”

“HMG should only have a few more rounds before then, but won’t be long before it cools back off. You got a tight window,” T-Bug informs them, able to keep better track of it when not in firing range.

And then the fire slows, lightening and nearly stopping, Jackie and V both jump over the cabinet, seeing their chance and not hesitating to take it. They rush towards the room, the man cursing when he sees them charging and the door begins to shut. V skids into the wall and Jackie slams against it just as the door fully closes, cutting off their access. The older merc digs his nails between the door and wall, trying to pry it open with a grunt, but it doesn’t budge. Crow bar, crow bar, something, there has to be something.

Then a gunfire blasts through the wall, narrowly avoiding V. They missed their window and he can shoot through the wall. This is great. This is fantastic, exactly what they fucking need!

“Head down, Jaina, take cover!” Jackie yells out, yanking V back behind a shelf with him.

“Fuck!”

“Need options Bug, you got eyes on this shithole!?”

“Uh, lemme see, room he’s in connects to a balcony, the window to get in is small. V might be able to slip through to him.”

“How do I get there?”

“Got a window on the left, gimme two secs to grease the lock.”

“If I get his attention elsewhere, could you break down that door?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jackie nods as they put together their new plan, “flank him and draw his fire! I’ll do the rest!”

V sees the window Bug is talking about, her interface over it as it slides open, she easily jumps through, a closed in balcony cluttered with equipment, more trash that nearly trips her as she reaches the next window. The industrial shutters are damaged and broken, allowing her to peek through, the goliath, as Bug put it, is inside. A shaved head and face of mottled cyberware. She grabs the lowest rung of the shutters and rips the already broken mess up; then fires three shots at the man. They hit but don’t bring him down, only streaking blood down his leather jacket, he swings the gun to face her.

A loud boom rings out, metal screeching, as Jackie busts the door down. His boots pound against the floor and he slams into the Scavenger, the gang member’s body hitting the wall with a thud. Jackie rips the HMG from the man’s hands, raising it high above his head and bashing the gang member’s head in with it. Blood streaking the wall behind him and the ganger falling limp on the carpet. V climbs through the window, giving the Scavenger

“That’s the last of them,” T-Bug tells them, “time to find our target.”

“Question is, where the hell is she?” Jackie asks as V makes a beeline for the one door she sees. They’ve gone through the rest of the area, it has to be it. It's the last damn room in the apartment or whatever.

“Look around, gotta be there somewhere.”

“Holy fuck.”

V’s breath catches in her throat when she swings that door open; the horror of the front room was just a taste of what these people are capable of. White linoleum stained ruddy with blood, a bathroom with fluorescent lights making the ghostly gray of the corpses stand out. The bathtub is jammed full, naked bodies bleeding the ice water red, hanging out to smear crimson over white porcelain.

“Jesus christ… ” Jackie breathes out as he steps in behind her.

V swallows the nerves and bile down, rushing to the bathtub.  The first body stacked on top is a man, skin cold to the touch and no pulse in his neck, she moves him aside. Can’t save them all, can’t save them all; she tells herself. As she checks and moves bodies, finding only one with some warmth still clinging to her body, top level chrome in etching her cheekbones and down her bare chest. Her nose and mouth barely above the ice water, it’s a miracle she wasn’t drowned under the weight of the others who weren’t as lucky.

“Think I got her. Got our target!” She yells out as she pulls the woman halfway from the tub, sitting on the edge of it. V’s fingers numb and sting all at ones from the ice, she delicately brings the woman’s shaved head to her lap. Ice water soaking through her jeans and chilling the skin beneath.

Sandra’s eyes are just slightly open, not alert, but V can pick up on some movement behind them. Pulse at her neck faint, albeit consistent. Bad shape, but not gone. The instinct to keep checking the bodies, the need to see if they can save anyone else, pulls at V. But she has to secure Sandra, has to attend the one she was sent after and at the very least she knows has a fighting chance.

Jackie stands at the door looking in and keeping guard, there's likely more Scavengers in the building, if they catch wind of what’s happened in their nest. They’ll storm in and they can risk the gang members opening fire into the room, snuffing out anyone's chance of living. Her stomach churns, once they secure Sandra they can check on the others.

“We make it, she alive?”

“She’s hanging in, I think,” V’s fingers twitch with the need to sign her words, but the need to support Sandra’s neck  and head wins out. She’s not sure if the poor woman can process or feel anything right now, looking nearly catatonic, but...maybe a touch that doesn’t hurt can be of some comfort through it all.

“V, jack into her biomon. Need to know what we're dealin' with.”

“Ooh, this does not look good…” Jackie breathes out, green eyes running frantically over the bathroom, taking in the sheer horror of what they’ve found.

“She’s not alone here, Bug, there’s bodies stacked up, crammed together, like slabs of fucking meat. I’m not sure if anyone else is alive, I- fuck.”

“We’ll do what we can for them after, keep it together. And if she survives, she won’t even remember, tiny scar on the subconscious in the long run.  Jack into her biomon.”

“Jacking in,” V slots her personal link into Sandra’s biomon port, information lighting up her mask's interface, “Sandra Dorsett. NC570442. Trauma Team Platinum.”

“Platinum? Shit, Trauma shoulda swooped in if she sneezed,” Jackie scratches the back of his head, the question clear, where the fuck is Trauma?

“Guessin' they jammed the transmitter sig. Lookin' at a hacked biomon, firmware reconfig or a neurovirus…”

“Carajo, T-Bug! You ain't seein' this place. This is tubs, ice, hooks and cleavers.” Jackie explains.  Scavengers are brutal, crude, rudimentary; anything too high tech isn’t coming from them.

“Hmm… Scopmuncher's hack, huh. Got an idea. Check her neuroport. Find a shard? Yeah, pull it - that'll be what's muting the biomon.”

V gently maneuvers the woman’s head, nails rubbing over her shaved hair, seeing the two standard neuroports behind her right ear. One with a shard placed inside. She’s heard stories of infected shards, where removing them ends up causing more harm than whatever’s on them. But, she trusts T-Bug.

“Shard found, removing it now.” She gently pulls the shard from Sandra’s neuroport, pocketing it for now, in case it’s needed later.

“Check the biomon. Anything change?”

“Greetings, Sandra,” an artificial voice explains,  “If you are conscious, assume recovery position now. An emergency evacuation unit has been dispatched and is due to arrive at your location in 180 seconds.”

“Trauma will be here in three.”

“Your premium plan will cover 90% of the projected costs of your rescue and treatment,” the biomonitor warns and V can’t help but roll her eyes, capitalism and healthcare, a match made in hell.

“Ay, pobrecita,” Jackie shakes his head, “let's get her off that ice.”

V nods, pulling her jack from the naked woman’s biomonitor and gently bringing Sandra’s body up and into her arms. She lifts the woman bridal style, water soaking her arms as she stands up. Sandra’s body starts to shake and convulse, leg unintentionally kicking at V’s arms.

“Shit!”  V curses out loud, hitting her knees as she brings Sandra to the ground. The woman’s body twitches and convulses, eyes rolling back into her head, as a ghastly choking sound comes from her mouth.

“She's flatlining!”

“V, need to know what's going' on!”

“Jackie, airhypo, now!”

“¡Ey, catch chica!”

Jackie throws the airhypo and the merc snatches the green first aid hypodermic out of the air. V quickly presses the tool to the center of Sandra’s chest and pushes the needle into her skin, shooting the compressed adrenaline into her system to stabilize her. Sandra’s body stills and relaxes, her chest still falling and rising steadily. V breathes a sigh of relief and pushes her mask onto the top of her head; sweat stinging her eyes and her lungs demanding she breathe freely. She swallows hard and blinks, Sandra still stable on the floor.

“Fuck..I, target seized but we got her stable,” V recounts to T-Bug and shakes her head, still in shock at just how close they came to this woman dying in her arms.

“You alright, jaina?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just, yeah. Uh, fuck...”

“I getcha, got a stomach of steel, but this is….”

The merc is used to death, seen it firsthand many a times and dealt it to many a people. But she’s always prided herself on not taking innocent lives, every target she’s ever killed, every person she’s put in the grave had a healthy share of blood on their hands.  She knows that doesn’t necessarily make it right, doesn’t many it doesn’t cause any harm, most monsters still have someone who loves them. And as a corpo, maybe Sandra isn’t truly innocent, V wouldn’t know for sure.  But she doesn’t deserve this, this horror, neither do any of the people stewing in ice water.

She’s always been surrounded by death but in this  bathroom, with her knees pressing against bloody tiles, she feels like she’s choking on it.

“We’re gonna get you out here, safe and sound, I promise,” she tells the woman in her lap, maybe more for her own benefit than for the woman who can’t hear her. She picks Sandra up again and turns towards Jackie, “Scavs will scatter the second they see Trauma, hate to ask this, but once they show up, we need to see if we can save anyone else, you mind checking out the bodies in the tub while I handle her?”

“Course, gotta save who we can.”

V nods, thankful that Jackie and her are on the same page. There’s a steady whirr of engines and the young merc takes Sandra out to the balcony, in the faint distance she can see the Trauma Team aircraft incoming. Wind picks up as they draw ever closer, sweeping up and blowing trash around from the area. It feels nice on V’s bare sweaty face, but she tries to tuck Sandra a little closer to her chest, trying to keep the unconscious woman warm, which seems almost ironic in the heat of the city. The aircraft pulls up beside the balcony with flashing lights and V cringes at the whirring of its turbines, turning the volume down on her hearing aids.

“Landing, stand clear. Initiating security protocol. Follow all instructions. Stop in the doorway!” The speakers on the aircraft boom and V would flip them off if she weren’t holding Sandra.

A little step extends out to the balcony and holograms mark out an area she isn’t supposed to step into. Then the Trauma Team members come out, four individuals in green uniform with white helmets, guns drawn, holsters of equipment hanging off of them.  Two of the workers lay a gurney down in front of V.

“Place the patient on the ground!” A man yells at her, gun drawn. She rolls her eyes and does as asked, gently placing Sandra on the gurney.

“Five steps back. Now,” one of the workers demands, then shoves V back and away from Sandra, gun still pointed at her as the others rush to take the woman into the aircraft.

“There are some other people...” she switches on the translator in her choker to sign, but they ignore her.

Of course, Sandra is the only person in that tub who means anything to them, because she has money. She can just hear them over the turbines as they start to assess the woman’s condition, loading her in the aircraft, the last worker following behind. The young merc sighs watching as the vehicle flies off, as much the Trauma Team system boils her blood, their doctors are well trained. Sandra is in good hands.  After a moment she turns back to the entrance to the apartment, Jackie waiting in the doorway. His hands empty.

“No one else…” She starts to sign then trails off, seeing the look in his eyes.

“All dead long before we got here.”

“Fuck…”

“Let's get outta here,” he claps a hand against her shoulder as they start to leave, “Elevator gets us to the garage direct.”

“Good work. Shitshow's over. Cuttin' my wires now. See ya in the near future,” T-Bug says her goodbyes, cutting off her connection to the mercs.

Good work, somehow those words ring hollow when there’s a tub of corpse not three feet away. There’s a heavy weight in V’s chest, they did what they were paid for, one person is safer now because of them. All things she should be proud of, but she can’t help but still feel hollow and bitter about this entire thing. Her head still hangs low as she follows Jackie out of the apartment.

“Listen, chica,” he gets her attention, “got this thing. Mind if I borrow your wheels?”

“A thing?”

“I got a date with Misty, but… heh, I can't take the metro! How's that gonna look for me?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll help you out, I guess,” she signs, feigning annoyance, though they both know she’s happy to help.

“Ah, savin' my ass, V, thank you. How about I drive you home, eh?”

“Please, I feel like I’m about to drop any minute,” she admits, body heavy with exhaustion and head starting to hurt from all the commotion. Even the translator tech’s voice is starting to make her head throb.

The elevator doors open, welcoming the two mercs as they scurry inside, V leaning all of her weight against a wall as Jackie hits the buttons. Doors closing, it starts to move, and V’s thankful for every second that gets her closer to her bed. It's an unusual feeling, she’s not typically this worn out after a job. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing, she’s learned, most jobs leaving her still riding that high and looking for ways to burn the excess energy. But, all she wants right now is to crawl in bed and pretend the world is a kinder place, 

“Oh, almost forgot. Should get Wakako on the halo - tell her the job's done.”

V gives a short nod before pulling Wakako up on her phone, it rings a few times before it projects the image of the older woman, V keeping it on speaker so Jackie can hear the call.

“Ahem! V? How did it go? Our client is alive and well?”

“Of course.”

“Splendid. Your payment awaits you - ready to come and grab whenever you like, even right away. But I guess home is the only place you wish to be now. The NCPD has surrounded Watson. The district is closed. If you are to make it past the cordon, you must move fast.”

“Shit, thanks for the warning, catch you another time,” V signs her goodbye as she hangs up and groans, thunking her head back against the wall. Of course, just her luck. The elevator doors open and Jackie leads the way out to the garage, V following closely behind.

“Gotta get going if I’m gonna make it home tonight,” V mentions as they reach her car, she doesn’t want to have to crash on his garage or his mom’s place if she can help it.

“Leave it to me, chica, I’m driving.” Jackie tells her with a little grin pulling at his lip as he climbs into the driver seat and she plops down into the passenger side.

Jackie revs the ignition and starts fiddling with the radio, while V cranks the air conditioner. She tosses her mask into the backseat for now, fiddling with her hair. The pull out of the parking garage as Jackie finds a song he likes, kind enough to keep it on low volume for V’s sake, she finds herself sinking into the seat, watching the city pass by from the window. Trying to focus on the neon lights that pass her by and not the negativity that’s threatening to overtake her mind.

“Can’t stop digging Night City,” Jackie tells her following a few moment of silence, save for the radio.

“Place definitely has an energy to it.” They drive past what she assumes is a joytoy arguing with a man, advertisements that flash so vividly in the night, street vendors peddling over the top food items. Noisy, smell, chaotic, and messy; the essence of Night City

“Nah, chica, it's more than that. Morgan Blackhand, Andrew Weyland, Adam Smasher. Legends are born here!”

“You and me, the next ones up?” She signs, playfully raising an eyebrow at him.

“You know it, jaina.”

“And we’re not gonna need a corp to do it.”

“Swear to god, V,” he shakes his head, grinning, “only merc I know who don’t get all tingly when I mention the greats.”

“Not saying they aren’t badasses, but being the best of the best is easy when you got a billion eddie corp in your corner. Blackhand was in Militech’s pocket, Weyland was on Petrochem’s payroll and Smasher is a certified Arasaka cocksucker,” she explains, fingers cramping from spelling the names as quickly as she can so her tech will translate it right, “but you and me are going to do this right, reach the top without the corp’s dick in our mouths.”

Being a legend may always be Jackie’s dream more than it’s hers… But she’s been growing into it more and more with each passing day.  She’s enjoyed the ride so far and wants to keep up the momentum. While by no means a perfect life, she’s happier than she’s been in a long time. Independent and doing a job she loves more often than not. Though, there’s still something missing… that she can’t quite define. As they keep working their way up that ladder, she’s only feeling more and more like she’s where she belongs. It only gets better from here, so long as her past stays there. V can’t help but think hitting the big leagues is what’s really going to put all the pieces in place, herself included.

“Damn right we will, V. Blackhand’s gonna wish he was us.”

“Blackhand is dead.”

“Psssh, you really believe that, chica?” He looks at her like she’s grown a third head.

“You don’t?”

“Hell no, Blackhand’s out there somewhere, sitting pretty after blowing Arasaka Tower off the map.”

“No one’s seen him since the tower fell, anyone in the tower when it came down is dead, you don’t survive that shit.”

“No one has ever found his body or Silverhand’s!”

“Because it was buried under rubble,” she’s signing frantically and grinning, the little stupid argument lifting some of the gloom off of her, “wait, who the fuck is Silverhand?”

“Silverhand, the ro-,” Jackie pauses, eyes going to the rearview window, she follows his eyeline, a van behind them, “hey is it just me or, argh, van’s on our ass, we got a tail, V!”

V gets a hand on her iron and turns in her seat to try to grab a better look, she can see the holographic mask glitching green and red on the driver. The van jerks into the left lane, speeding up to pass them, then in the very next moment pulling in front of them. V’s brows furrow, what are they doing? Then the double doors to the van open up, two masked gang members opening fire on the mercs.

“Scavs! ¡Hijos de puta!”

And V’s half out the window, sitting on the sill of it,  in the next instant, firing back at the Scavs. Bullets whirl by and V tries to maintain a steady hand as she shoots off shot after shot, aiming for the gangoons heads. Gunshots ring out through the night, bullets whiz past V and blow holes in her car, as she keeps blasting right back. People from the streetways scream, terrified of being caught in the shoot out.

“Come on, V, shoot!”

“Keep it steady,” he side mirror explodes as a bullet hits it, “fuck!”

With a thought, V shuts off her hearing aids, the world going quiet around her. Unable to hear the screaming and racket as she focuses only on shooting the Scavs. Blood sprays, a bullet ripping through a gang member’s head, their body going limp and spilling onto the road. The vehicles swing through a right turn, Jackie a thankfully empty chunk of sidewalk before swinging back out to the road. V reloads her gun as a bullet tears through her hip, not fatal but it hurts like a bitch. She fires off two more shots, catching the last member in the back of the van just as it takes a quick left turn.

But the curve comes back to meet the stretch of highway they’re on. She fires off a few shots as it goes, trying to tear through the tires before the gangers greet them again, but to no avail. The Scavenger van takes the short curve and comes back through the exit, taking the left lane to drive alongside them. V tries to fire a shot at the masked driver, but her aim is off, only blasting out the last of the van’s intact windows.

The van’s door opens, another masked gang member blasting at the mercs as the cars struggle to stay neck and neck. A sharp pain lodges in V’s shoulder and she blows the man’s brains out in her next shot. Only the driver remains and she starts blasting without hesitation, knowing they can’t easily shoot back and has no more friends covering his ass. One last bullet connects with his temple, his body going limp and the van going onto the street, crashing into a building.

She breathes, blinking, heart still pounding in her chest. There’s blood still coming from her wounds and wind whipping around her as Jackie drives. She pulls herself back into the vehicle, bending a knee and keeping one foot in her seat with the other back on the floorboard, because she can’t be bothered to sit properly. She catches Jackie’s lips moving and flips her hearing aids back on.

“Ears were off, mind saying it again,” she signs and can’t help but shrink when she sees the glimmer of annoyance on his face, the tension of the situation no doubt making what’s usually a minor request feel a bit more aggravating.

“Are you okay? You need me to take you to Vik’s?”

The mark on her hip and bicep from earlier are minor, just scratches where bullets skimmed the skin. It's her shoulder that could warrant some concern. She flips on a light in the vehicle, craning her neck to get a better look at the injury. The entry wound isn’t too bad, low caliber, just some blood steadily weeping from her shoulder. V rolls and shifts her shoulder, a tightness to the movement. She touches around her shoulder blades, no exit wound. V rubs around the wound, feeling the injury. Something solid within her flesh, not far from the entry wound.

She knows Vik says not to remove the bullets, that it can cause more harm digging around in the wound, but if she leaves it the thing will annoy her forever. With adrenaline still spiked, heart still pounding and these injuries still feeling like stings at most, it will hurt more later than it will now. So, V digs her fingers into her own wound.

“What are you-”

V finds the bullet beneath her skin and digs her nails into it, ripping it from her flesh, bloodied metal now exposed. She rolls her shoulder, it’s bleeding a bit more, but the movement feels better, more free.

“ Jesus christo, V! Fuckin’ hate when you do that shit!”

V laughs at his reaction, her pisspoor first aid never failing to make Jackie uncomfortable, she tosses the bullet out of the window. She rubs her bloody fingers off on her pants, before pulling at her shirt, a little hole where the bullet struck.

“More bummed about my shirt than anything, Vik doesn’t need to see my mug tonight,” she signs, as if she doesn’t have a hundred more black crop tops.

“Fine, but don’t call me bitching if you’re hurting later tonight.”

“Oh, ‘cause you’re one to talk.” She signs quickly, whipping around in her seat to face him.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hijo de la chingada, V, Misty, this is it for me, I’m done for ahhhhh,” she whines aloud, dropping her tone and trying to mimic Jackie, grinning when he scrunches his face in response.

“I was sick!”

“Well, yeah, that’s what happens when you eat your weight in cheap-ass sushi!”

“It was all you can eat!”

“Pffft,” she sputters and squeals, laughing at his excuse, “Swear to god, Jack, only man I know who can take three bullets to the chest and keep going, but a tummy ache knocks you on your ass!”

“And you’re the only woman I-oh shit.”

Police lights cut across the bridge to Watson, a full police cordon blocking the way. At least four or five NCPD units standing between V and her bed. Because of fucking course they are. She groans and thunks her head  against the seat in frustration.

“Fuck me.”

“‘Preciate the offer, chica, but we gotta run that one by Misty first.” Jackie winks and she makes a gagging noise at him in return. But she’s unable to control the warmth the joke brings to her cheeks. That’s not a mental or emotional road she’s ready to venture down, she shuts the light off in the car, the last thing they need is pigs catching sight of the blood and deciding to give a shit.

Jackie slows the car down as they pull up to the blockade, he’s calmer than her, he’s been fast talking the NCPD his whole life. While no stranger to cops, they’ve been a more sporadic presence in the former nomad’s life, leaving her to fiddle with her choker. She turns off the translator tech, prepared to break out the puppy dog eyes and soft broken little voice if she has to.

A female officer saunters over to the driver’s side window, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and silver cyberware etching her forehead and chin. Her eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark shades.

“Watson's on lockdown till further notice. Necessary security measure,” she explains to the mercs. V can’t help but eye the bulky security robots, ready to blast them to smithereens if the NCPD deem it ‘necessary’.

“Officer, ma'am! Damn are we ever lucky we ran into you,” Jackie greets the officer, turning up the charm.

“Really… What's it that makes me so special?”

“Uh, a heart of gold? 'Course only somebody with a heart of gold can understand just how much I need to get back to my girl.”

“Your… girl?”

“Hm… that's a shame.”

“C’mon, look at him,” V slings her forearm onto Jackie’s shoulder then rests her chin there, making puppy dog eyes at the officer, “no model citizen maybe, but he’s a good kid.” She pats his chest for added effect.  

There’s a grin pulling at Jackie’s lips and she struggles not to smile in return, wanting to laugh at the silliness of it all. The officer sighs and turns away from the pair, the two taking the moment to make faces at each other, trying to make the other break and laugh.

Let them through. But they're the last,” she turns back to the mercs and they try to force serious expressions, “OK, on your way.”

“You have a good evening, now, officer… ma'am,” Jackie nods and starts to drive through the blockade.

V pulls away from Jackie’s side, instantly feeling colder away from his warmth, she twists to look forward. Watching neon lights and city people walking by. Sometimes it feels surreal. Not minutes ago she was shooting gangoons in the back of a van. Not an hour or so ago, she was pulling a woman out of an ice filled tub. Yet, the world keeps spinning, couples and families walking down the same streets her and Jackie have nearly died in so many times. No, no storm clouds, if she digs that hole she’ll need an excavator to get back out.

“So, you can be nice when you feel like it,” she signs and talks, content to use her voice at the moment, just her and Jackie after all.

“When am I not nice?”

“Uhhh, always!”

“I'm always never not nice!”

“Puh-lease!”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Oh, Jackie, I can’t possibly talk around strangers, you, Misty, Mama Welles, and Vik are the only people I can talk with.  But the moment it’s time to pull out the wool over a pig’s eyes, suddenly, you’re real talkative!”

“Tone is an important tool in manipulation, my eyes can only do so much.”

“Keep that in mind when you beg me to order your food for you.”

“What? No!”

Jackie laughs, warm and deep in his chest at her offense at the mere notion of having to be in charge of ordering her own lunch from now on. It's just so much easier to have Jackie do it, waitresses are much more used to weirdness in Night City, but there’s still that odd little look when she starts signing and her translator tech does its thing. Jackie still laughs about the time he made her order the lunch over the phone and they hung up as soon as they heard the artificial voice, assuming it was some scam.

“Oh shit…” V says, soft and low as they pull up towards an intersection, two men holding guns aiming at  a driver’s side window, some poor bastard panicking behind the wheel.

“Outta the car! Now! C'mon! Ain't got all day!” The armed man screams at them and V’s fingers twitch to grab her iron. Then a large police aircraft vehicle comes flying in, lights flashing.

“Check it out, V. Shit's goin' down,” Jackie says, trying to hunch down behind the wheel, which does nothing to hide his six foot five form.

“Aa, shit, they're here!” One of the gang members yells and they’re screaming at each other to shoot. A small group of officers deploy from the aircraft vehicle, the led blue adornments to their uniform and odd helmets that cover their eyes tell her they’re MaxTac. The officers start firing back at the gangers.

“NCPD's apex predators at work, gonk out there nothing but a midday snack.”

“Wonder why they’re busting out MaxTac for this? Just looks like a regular carjacking to me.”

“Who knows, corpo behind the wheel? Got a quota to meet?”

“To put on a show of intimidation.”

“Might be onto something with that one,” the gangers are shot dead, bleeding out on the ground around the car they tried to jack, “welp, shows over.  Poor bastards… but they had it comin'.”

They pull away from the conflict, nothing but the hum of the radio playing as Jackie drives her home. Her leg is bounces softly in the floorboard, her fingers tapping at the window sill, occasionally catching the wind. The feeling she’s more accustomed to after gigs, a restlessness, adrenaline and energy boiling over. Maybe she won’t just drop once she gets home, no longer bone tired. Oddly enough, the shootout seems to have lifted her spirits. She’ll take a high stakes, high adrenaline car chase over the bone weariness ther rescue put her in.

Jake is in Heywood, so he won’t be able to get through the cordon. Cecelia is probably working at Tom’s Diner tonight. If she’s near the end of her shift, V might be able to score a lay and late night pancakes. Her mood is still a bit too sour to hit up a bar or club for a stranger, but still feeling the need to work through this energy and tension. She was dreaming of nothing more than hitting the pillow, seeing if she could sleep soundly tonight, but now she doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep at all unless she gets some energy out.  She gets out her holophone and opens up Cecelia’s contact.

“Whatcha doing, jaina?”

“Texting Cecelia,” V shrugs, shoulder twinging in pain,  “y’know how it is.”

“Of course, shit gets the blood pumping, why you think I always got a date night planned after a big gig?”

“Thought that was so you could steal my car?” She teases, typing up her message to Cecelia but not sending it yet.

“That too, but after you nearly die, just gotta do something to feel alive.”

“I think we might just be perverts.”

“Eh, that too,” he laughs as they pull into her apartment complex’s parking garage, “we’re here.”

“What about you? Not likely to make it back to Heywood now…” She asks, holding her thumb over the send button, if Jackie can’t get back through he’ll be crashing at her place and she doubts he’s going to want to sleep on the couch listening to her and her fuckbuddy go at it.

“Chill, V. They'll let me through.”

“Sure about that?”

“Oh yeah. I'll play nice Jackie again,” he stops the car near the elevator doors, “go, have some fun, lord knows you need it.”

He sticks his hand out, V smacking her palm into his own, a quick shake then they bump their fists together. His hand practically engulfs her own, that foot and a half of size difference obvious even in the contrast of their hands. One of these days she’s going to strain her neck looking up to talk to him.

“Tell Misty I said ‘hi’.”

“I will. Ahí luego.”

Goodbyes said for the night, V grabs her mask from the backseat and steps out of the car, her joints and injury protesting the movement. Her combat boots stomp against the pavement as she calls up the elevator, giving a final wave to Jackie as he pulls out of the garage. She leans against the wall, on her good shoulder, sending the text to Cecelia.

V: you @ work???

The elevator dings and V steps inside, cringing at the sudden bright light of the elevator, a stark contrast to the dimness of the garage. Video screens play ads for energy drinks and cyberware; everything under the sun. Everything in neon bubblegum colors or horrific details, because shock value sells nearly as well as tits.  Her holo buzzes and V checks a text from T-Bug, the runner knows she’d rather text than call but the sudden message is strange nonetheless. Bug only reaches out when it has something to do with a job.

T-Bug: Forgot earlier,  a runner I know has something you could probably use. It's a runner shop outside of Kabuki.

For some reason she’s not shocked at all that Bug would text in full grammatically correct sentences. V can’t help but think the world would implode if T-Bug ever sent an emoji or emoticon.  But gifts are a little unusual for her, but for some reason the experienced netrunner is convinced she can teach V the craft.

V: thanx bug, thats sweet of ya~!

She’s promptly left on seen, no indication of Bug typing anything back,  and V can’t help but laugh. The more T-Bug acts skeeved out by her affection, the more she wants to tease her with it.

“Good evening, Night City!~”

The screens cut to Night After Night, the host Ziggy Q coming to sit at his desk, green hair and gold suit twinkling under his stage lights. V rarely watches this kind of thing or watches TV as a whole if she’s being honest, just more noise, but she finds herself unable to help watching as the elevator starts to move.

“My first guest for tonight is the president of The Church of El Yahu, The Last Emancipator and the bane of Arasaka’s PR department; one Reverend Colver.”

The camera cuts to an older man dressed in black and beige, seemingly lost among the neon pinks and yellows of the stage. He sits down on the plush magenta couch, nodding towards the host.

“Praise be to thee our Father in heaven.”

“And ouuur second guest is Karina Lee, host of the Chip In program, which promotes the use of cybernetic implants,” a woman with a thick dark afro of hair comes onto the stage, “ how’s life treating you beautiful?”

“Can’t complain, Ziggy,” Karina tells him, she looks much more in place than the Reverend as she sits down next to him,  bright clothes and heavy gold cyberward indented in her jaw, “thanks for having me.”

“Now, I’d like to have us talk about the most exclusive and highly sought after implant on the market today, Arasaka Corp’s Relic. But maybe we ought to make sure our fair audience is up to speed,” Ziggy says, waving a dramatic and manicured hand towards the camera before focusing back in on his guests, “Karina, what is the relic exactly? In a word, if you could?”

“In one word? I’d say, immortality.”

“Immortality? Really?”

V can’t help but roll her eyes at the dramatic wording and the over the top expressions the host makes. Nothing can make someone immortal, that's a pipe dream, even if it is possible it will never be feasible on a mass scale for anyone who isn’t rich. TV types always got to exaggerate, she figures.

“That’s right, the relic allows you to transfer the consciousness from a dying person, finding a new home for their soul on a transferrable chip. This person, they’ll never leave your side, a companion with you  forever in your own consciousness. Just imagine if-”

“Child, child-” the Reverend cuts her off, “think for a moment about what you’re saying! This relic is an abomination that feeds on human misery! It is an unnatural likeness, a golden calf born by false prophets! What’s more, this technology is just another tool of coercion and corruption, only the wealthy and powerful elite will have access. And they will pay any price in exchange for a chance at this so-called immortality. Arasaka speaks of preserving the soul but they can promise nothing more than a heartless, mindless, algorithm speaking with the voice of the departed.”

“Well, that is true that Arasaka Corp has specifically limited access to the relic in order to-”

“The promise is a lie,” the Reverend starts to stand, gesturing emphatically, “an evil lie, motivated by greed and lust for power-”

“HA, now that is rich,” Ziggy cuts off Colver’s ramblings with a laugh.

“Excuse me!?”

“False promises, greed, a lust for power,” Ziggy rolls his eyes, “well sounds an awful lot like a church to me!”

“Wha- how dare you?”

“Do you not promise a life after death? Do you not charge funeral fees to a family in mourning? Maybe the Reverend is just afraid of a little healthy competition, huh?”

“Competition,” the religious figure scoffs, “you believe everything in this world can be counted, measured, rationalized!”

“And wouldn’t we be right?” Karina interjects, “we can construct artificial brains, create new consciousnesses!”

“But I ask you why? What does that give us? Are we as a people on this earth any happier for it? You claim that this relic gives eternal life, but all I see is an eternity of suffering. Rather than say goodbye, we haunt ourselves with their voices, their presence, but-”

“What do you folks think? Who holds the truth, is it Ms. Lee or maybe Reverend Colver? That is up to you!” Ziggy gestures at a screen behind him, showing the two guests,  “Send Colver or Lee to 7892 to cast your vote and enter your name for a chance to win tickets to this year's playoffs! Until next time, Night City, toodles!~”

V sighs, as the program cuts out and more ads start to be blasted at her. The conversation a heavy one, now tinkering around in her skull. The idea of keeping a dead loved one around as an imaginary friend… she thinks of her mother instantly, the person whose death most gravely impacted her. If she had her mom still lingering around, sitting in her head, it sounds...strange. A part of her thinks she’d love it, to have her mother back, but eould she ever see it as her mother? Committing herself to a fantasy like that, it doesn’t sound healthy, at all. Death is natural, learning how to say goodbye is part of life, right? She can’t imagine her spending all her time talking to a ghost from the past.

Her holophone buzzes in her pocket and she realizes the elevator is on her floor, probably has been for a few minutes. She shakes her head, she doesn’t need anymore heavy shit in her skull. The relic has nothing to do with her, anyway. Wondering about what if’s and could be’s won’t get her anywhere. V gets her holophone from her pocket, a text from Cecelia, a much needed distraction and relief. She starts to text her regular hookup as she makes her way to her apartment.

Cecelia: Yeah, be off in an hour, why?

V: i have a proposition

Cecelia: ???

V: bring me pancakes and i make you cum ;)

V’s flirting skills continue to impress absolutely no one, but Cecelia is still into the merc,  so that’s really on her at this point.

Cecelia: Will you pay me back for the pancakes?

V: yee

Cecelia: Drop by your place around midnight, sound good?

V:  pls and thanx! :3

V slips the phone back into her pocket, opening her apartment door and slipping inside. She shuts the door behind and starts stripping off her clothes, she needs a shower before Cecelia gets here. The waitress probably wouldn’t be too excited to come in and see V covered in a layer of sweat and blood.  Clothes off she takes her hearing aids out and puts them on her desk before she makes the beeline for her shower.

She cranks the water up as hot as possible and steps under, her shoulder and scratches sting, but she focuses her energy on washing the blood and sweat away. V washes through her hair, muscles relaxing at the feeling of hot water pouring down on her, the smell of rose scented shampoo and conditioner lingering in the air as she washes.

She’s tempted to touch herself under the water, her soap slick thighs clenching together. It's tempting, still just riding that adrenaline high, it’d be nice to find some relief. But the bullet wound in her shoulder should be attended to first, she dug the bullet out in the car, but the injury still could use some first aid. She didn’t have anything to stitch it closed and she’s not sure it’d be the smartest idea to stitch herself in a moving car, not that she hasn’t done it before.

V shuts off her shower, ignoring her swollen clit and the tension in her core. She steps out of the water and stands in front of her bathroom sink, her reflection showing in the mirror. The merc grabs her first aid kit, getting out the stuff she needs to suture her shoulder.

Vik will bitch at her for it later, call her work shoddy, but she’s been taking care of her own injuries for years.  She doesn’t need to run to him for every little thing. She pats it dry first, leaving pink stains on her bathroom towel, then she pours some antiseptic peroxide on it. A curse on her lips at the sharp sting, she cringes and takes a deep breath, preparing the needle and suture. The needle pulls through her skin with a harsh pain, as she pulls her skin back together with a quick crude stitch.

Content with her oh so shoddy work, she finishes drying off and leaves the bathroom, dropping her dirty clothes in a laundry hamper to be mended and washed later. She checks the time on her holo, still thirty or so minutes before Cecelia said she’d drop in. V throws on an oversized black tee shirt and a pair of shorts it completely covers. Her skin feels warm, still smells like roses and honey, something about the warm cozy feeling makes that little fire inside come back.  She clenches her thighs together again, mentally cursing her sex drive, libido, hormones, whatever it is that makes it so she can put a needle through her bloodied skin and still want to cum immediately after.

There's a skip in her step as she rushes to scoop her phone and hearing aids off her desk, putting them on the little circular table next to her bed instead, so they’re easily in reach. Then she plops herself onto her bed, atop the covers and blankets, she sinks into them. She feels warm, skin soft and clean to the touch. When she stretches slightly in her bed, she feels a soft sound leaving her lips.

Her breasts feel soft under her shirt, squeezing and groping herself over her clothes. Sensitive pierced nipples stiffening under the fabric, she pinches them lightly, whimpering at the pressure. She presses her head back against her pillow, biting her lip as she puts a hand underneath her shirt, teasing her breast directly, playing with her piercings.  Each touch makes her slicker, makes her clit swell and beg to be touched.

V shoves a hand down into her shorts, pushing two fingers through the lips of her wet cunt. She presses them against her clit, groaning as she begins to rub, quick messy circles. Focused on just getting there, a harsh pressure and quick pace, squirming her hips against her own hand as she builds herself up. Pleasure pools in her center, building upon itself, growing higher and higher with each stroke of her clit.

A blue light goes off, strobing and bright enough to illuminate the room. Her phone buzzes on the side table with a notification. Someone knocking on her door, she wipes her slick fingers off on her thigh and quickly puts her hearing aids in.

“V!~ It’s Cece!” The older woman’s voice rings out and V jogs to the door, feeling like she’s about to combust.

She opens the door and Cecelia quickly steps inside. V hates the diner uniform, a yellow dress and apron. But Cecelia manages to be beautiful in anything, why on earth she wants anything to do with V is beyond the merc’s comprehension. She’s tall, though nearly everyone towers over V to some extent, with a cute shaggy pixie cut of dark hair. Olive skin with a dusting of freckles and amber eyes, far too beautiful to be rolling around in bed with some nomad turn street punk.

“I got extra honey and syrup for-”

She’s cut off by V’s lips in the middle of explaining what’s in the little white diner container. Her words dying on the merc’s tongue, V presses in deep, tasting all she can of Cecelia’s mouth, finding the taste of coffee and cigarettes awaiting her. A bitter taste, one she despises, but she ignores for the sake of her own lust. She presses the taller woman against the closed door, hands grabbing at the curve of Cecelia’s hips, pulling up on the dress of her uniform.

“V, V,” Cecelia breaks away from the kiss, panting, “you're gonna crush your pancakes.”

V rolls her eyes, taking the container from Cecelia’s hands and quickly placing it on her computer desk. Then she’s shoving a hand under the waitress uniform, Cecelia keening as V slips her hand into the older woman’s panties. The merc buries her face into her partner’s neck, licking, sucking and biting at her skin as she works her fingers against her clit. V braces her other hand against the door, sharply biting the expanse of skin against her lips. She gazes up at her fuckbuddy, the woman’s head thrown back against the door as she whimpers, V’s hand doesn’t stop working. She rubs the same two fingers she had on herself just moments before over Cecelia’s clit, the bundle of nerves swollen and slick. The merc’s hand is soaked in it already, she finds herself wondering if she’d find a puddle on her apartment floor if she looked down.

“You’re smoking again,” V whispers against Cecelia’s neck, marveling at the bruises her teeth have left behind. She knows the effect her voice has in these moments, so rarely heard by Cecelia, and when it is it’s husk with lust.

“So-” V twists her wrists and sinks those two fingers inside, “sorry, I fuck, V, stre-fuck-stressful day, I fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“That hardly seems fair, what did I taste like?” V pumps her fingers steadily, feeling slick run down her wrist.

“Li-aH, ah, uh, honey, you ta-taste like h-oney, al-always do~!” Her hips squirm to meet V’s thrusting fingers, trying to chase her own pleasure.

“So, you get honey and I get to lick the inside of an ashtray?”

“I sa-said,” V adds a third finger, speeding up her movement, “Fuck, I’m sorry!’

“Hmmm, I don’t think sorry cuts it here, Cece.” V starts to rub her thumb clumsily over Cecelia’s clit, watching the woman moan and squirm. Her thighs are vice tight around V’s wrist, teeth sinking into her lip. She’s close.

“V, fuck please, I, fu-uck!” She whines and pleads, V’s not even sure what for, if it’s too much or not enough.

“Fine, I’ll forgive ya, but I gotta get the taste out of my mouth first.”

V drops to her knees, yanking Cecelia’s underwear down to her ankles just to bury her face between the older woman’s thighs. The merc uses her hands to keep her partner’s legs spread and gives a heavy messy lick of Cecelia’s clit, ensuring her tongue piercing makes contact with the sensitive nerves. Already built up to near orgasm, Cecelia screams out, the lick sending her right over the edge. Slick gushes onto V’s mouth and chin, coating her tongue in a heavy layer that she swallows before she starts licking again. Pubic hair scratches at her nose as she laps and licks at Cecelia’s cunt. Licking her through orgasm and prolonging it into another, and another, drawing the high out with every lave of her tongue. Cecelia squirms and thrust her hips, sloppily humping against the merc’s face, she knots her fingers in V’s bleach blonde hair. It becomes too much, orgasms drawn out to long, tears forming at the corner of Cecelia’s eyes.

“St-stop!”

V pulls away instantly, face a flushed mess of slick and lust. She slowly pulls away from Cecelia, standing up, the taller woman’s knees are buckled and she’s leaning all her weight against the door. The two pant, each catching their breath and V looks down on the floor, her suspicions confirmed at the wet droplets, Cecelia managing to drip down onto the wood.

“I, uh, take it you’re a little worked up tonight?”

V makes a wiggly ‘kind of’ hand gesture, winking at Cecelia, smirking. She can’t help but feel a sense of pride looking at Cecelia; panting, neck marked, underwear around her ankles, and still dripping.

“That taste better than cigarettes?” Cecelia asks, smiling and still out of breath as she kicks off her heels and  steps out of her panties towards V. She cups V’s slick sodden chin, amber eyes soft as she brushes her thumb across the younger woman’s bottom lip.

“Much.”

Then their lips connect again, the sweetness of slick cutting down on the bitter taste of Cecelia’s bad habit. They lick into each other’s mouth, press into each other, pull away slightly; all to fall back into it. V starts pulling at the buttons of Cecelia’s uniform, revealing inch after inch of cleavage. She pushes it down off the older woman’s shoulders, leaving her in nothing but a bra. Heavy breasts surrounded by black lace, but only for a moment then V’s greedy hands unhook it, pulling the last bit of fabric from Cecelia’s body.

“On the bed,” V signs and speaks, words slurred with desire.

Cecelia gives a soft laugh and V discretely scratches at her hearing aid, the device starting to rub the inside of her ear raw, sex sweat irritating it. This type of tech became completely waterproof millennia ago, but they can still chafe. Refocusing her attention, she stares at Cecelia laying down in her bed. A beautiful face is no doubt what first drew her eye to the waitress, but Cecelia’s curvy soft figure was next. Large breasts that spill over most of her bras, a soft stomach, and thick thighs. A contrast to V’s own body, the merc more petite and curves more...subtle.

V doesn’t hesitate another moment, straddling Cecelia’s waist, the older woman’s hands instinctively reading for the merc’s hips. A twinge of pain when Cecelia’s unknowingly brushes against the small injury there, V ignores it in favor of pulling her shirt off over her head, throwing it onto the floor. She expects eyes raking over her small pert breasts, a look of desire in Cecelia’s eyes. But finds concern instead, fingers reach out to V’s shoulder, nearly brushing the crude stitches.

“What hap-”

V grabs Cecelia’s wrists and pins them to the bed, burying her lips into the older woman’s neck again. She sucks and bites, hoping the action gets her point across; don’t touch that, don’t ask that, don’t push. V likes fucking Cecelia. They are fuckbuddies, but Cecelia has a way of asking questions, wanting to know more beyond how skilled the merc is with her tongue. So, she has to steer it back on course, latching her mouth around one of Cecelia’s breasts, sucking and licking at her nipple. Cecelia moans and whimpers when V teases her chest, giving the other breast the same treatment and pulling off with a wet pop.

“Fuck, point made, V,” Cecelia swallows hard, “you still have any straps laying around?”

“Want me to fuck you with it?”

“No, uh, wanna watch you ride it”

V’s never scrambled so fast to get her toy box out from under her bed, a little chilled at leaving Cecelia’s warmth, she pulls her treasure trove out. She chooses a toy, essentially double sided and strap strap on. One end is a vibrating bulb likes shape and the other a dildo. V strips off her shorts before clambering back onto the bed. She lightly taps Cecelia’s thigh, licking her lips when the brunette spreads them for her.  The ribbed bulb slides easily inside of Cecelia and her high pitched whine lets V know it’s doing its job, pressing on the g-spot, when theyfuck it should grind against her clit too. Once inside, the rest of the toy sticks out, making it look like Cecelia has a slick black silicon cock.

Then V turns the vibration on, Cecelia screaming out as it buzzes and vibrates inside of her. V can’t help but laugh at her overstimulated and sensitive partner, she pins Cecelia’s hands back down to the mattress and straddles her. Her wet neglected cunt hovering just over the vibrating dildo, she kisses at Cecelia’s jaw. The brunette’s eyes are closed tightly, face contorted in pleasure as the toy works it’s magic.

“Thought you wanted to watch me?” V teases, smirking against Cecelia’s skin, then sinks down on top of the toy.

V whines and whimpers as the vibrating toy fills her, Cecelia grabbing her hips, amber eyes now firmly watching the blonde. Moans and squeals echo throughout the room. V fucks herself on the toy, Cecelia’s hips thrusting up to meet the movement, slamming the toy further into her each time. They’re both sensitive, Cecelia from being overstimulated since she walked in the room and V from neglecting her own needs until now.  Heavy squelching noises ring out where the toy plunges in and out of V’s cunt; mixing with the buzzing of the toy  and the clap of their flesh meeting on each thrust. There’s a tension in V’s center that grows tighter and tighter inside of her, pleasure building upon pleasure. Each slide of the toy inside of her brings her closer and closer to her end.

She lets go of Cecelia’s wrists, the hunched over position getting uncomfortable, V shifts her hands back onto the brunette’s legs, leaning back to support her weight that way. Then Cecelia thrusts, angle slightly changed and hitting impossibly deep, too much, too much. The tension snaps and V’s overwhelmed by pleasure, she bounces on the toy through her orgasms, yelling out as she rides out the waves of ecstasy.

A soft whine leaves V’s lips, when she starts to come down and the buzzing toy is too much, Cecelia looks about ready to pass out and V realizes there’s no way all the slick where they connect is from her.  The merc whimpers pulling off of the toy and turning off it’s vibrations, earning a sound from Cecelia who gasps when V gently pulls it out.

The toy is soaked; their thighs and the bed where their hips met too. Too tired to care about organization right now, V casually throws the toy to the side, she’ll clean and store it properly later. She instead collapses next to Cecelia, the two gathering their breath.

She’s not sure how much time passes, just laying next to Cecelia, but V’s heart rate and breathing calms down. Ther merc yawns, her ears hurt worse now. But, the orgasm was worth it. Her stomach is starting to hurt too.

“Your pancake are probably cold by now,” Cecelia tells her with a laugh and-

Oh fuck, V forgot her pancakes. She jumps out of bed, stumbling on her way to grab her food

“Did you just trip over a used dildo?”

“Not answering that.”

V brings the food back to the bedside table,  throwing her oversized shirt back on, before climbing into bed with her meal. She folds her legs and sits the meal in her lap, facing the side of the bed with Cecelia sitting next to her.

“You mind if I borrow some sleep clothes?”

V gives a thumbs up, opening her food container, her stomach growls and she realizes she hasn’t eaten since probably noon. Cecelia got her a stack of pancakes covered in honey, maple syrup, and whip cream. Even a little carton of milk packed tightly in with the food, probably her attempt to keep V from drinking too much Nicola.

“I assume that also means you’re okay with staying the night? Marlow’s at her dad’s this week, so the apartment’s kind of lonely…”

Another thumbs up, taking a big bite of food as Cecelia starts to look through her closet. Anything that fits V properly will be too tight on the brunette, but V’s collection of oversized sleep shirts should be fine. The merc watches half heartedly as Cecelia pokes through the old tees, already having devoured half of her pancake stack.

“Samurai?” Cecelia raises an eyebrow, looking at a bagging black and red shirt, the one she kept that originally belonged to Ava, “you listen to dad rock?”

“Not mine, don’t wear that one!”  V quickly signs with one hand, sometimes she wears it and can still convince herself it still  smells like her old love… She doesn’t want it smelling like anyone else and maybe that’s stupid, maybe that’s weird, she doesn’t know or care. It means something to her. She doesn’t know or give a fuck about the band on it, some shitty punk group no ones given a damn about in years, but it belonged to Ava. That’s what matters.

“Okay, no problem,” Cecelia seems to understand, not noticing or at the very least not mentioning V’s odd tension around it. She instead throws on an oversized white shirt before coming back to the bed.

The shirt on V reaches past her knees, but on Cecelia it hits around the mid thighs. V feels the brunette’s warmth as their sides touch, sitting close together. V shoves another chunk of pancakes in her mouth, nearly inhaling it.

“At least drink some milk, you and that friend of yours are the worst about chewing your food. I swear, I’ve seen you both choke five or six times in one meal.”

V nods and grabs the little carton of milk, her stomach dropping when she sees the back of it. A woman’s face stares back at her, a little different, more cleaned up and hair on her head,  but still bone chillingly familiar. Sandra Dorsett, a little message under her picture asking if anyone’s seen her.

“Something wrong, V?” Cecelia puts a hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles, then her eyes fall on the carton, “you know her?”

V shakes her head, because she doesn’t, not really. And even then, it's a moot point, the ad is old and Sandra is safe now… probably.  Not like V actually knows, she could have died in the Trauma Team vehicle, before they even made it to the hospital. And god only knows what the long term effects will be and she’s the lucky one.

“Well, they found her, from what I heard.”

V raises an eye at Cecelia, turning to face her a bit more.

“Caught it on the news just before I clocked out, they haven’t released the footage of the rescue yet, but apparently she was pulled out of some Scavenger hideout. Trauma Team got her and say she’s going to make a full recovery, so, good news…” She drags it out, like she’s testing V’s reaction trying to see if she can get anything from the merc.

“It’s good,” V signs, Cecelia’s eyes falling to the mercs hands, “but, you know Scavengers… there was probably twenty, thirty more bodies there, left to rot because they didn’t have enough money for Trauma to care.”

“Yeah, it's fucked but, hey, one person is better than none.”

“I guess… I hear even the people who get saved are fucked up afterwards. They don’t remember anything, until something triggers a flashback and next thing they know they feel like the worlds crashing in on them.”

“Won’t be easy, for sure, I can’t even imagine what that poor girl has gone through, but people are resilient.”

“Got to be,” V signs, chewing her lip, “the world’d eat them alive otherwise.”

“You got a good heart, V, you know that?” Cecelia tells her, tucking a strand of hair back behind the merc’s.

“Gross.”

“Yes, yes, I know, big bad merc can’t have feelings, fear her, blah blah blah,” Cecelia rolls her eyes and V blows a raspberry at her. Then stands to put what’s left of the food on the side table, the brief moment of vulnerability putting her off her pancakes. Cecelia always manages to pry something from her.

“Let's get to sleep, before I kill you,” she signs, then gestures to Cecelia to get to bed.

Cecelia curls up with V’s pillow, nestling into the sheets while V pulls out her hearing aids, rubbing at the raw skin. Putting her hearing aids back down, she sees the text notification on her phone. From Jackie, the message is short enough to display in the preview window.

Jackie: got big news, chica! B-I-G BIG!!! talk to you in the morning, hehehe!~

V lets out a huff of air, smiling and rolling her eyes all at once. He’s dramatic, always has been. His idea of big news is probably some new restaurant he found, maybe he won some eddies on a boxing match.  She shakes her head and puts the phone aside for now, crawling under the covers. Cecelia lifts an arm, allowing V to curl up close with her head on Cecelia’s chest as she drifts off to sleep.