#was cool until i had to draw the background and then i nearly died

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIVE

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, harassment/cat calling, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 6.1k+

→ a/n: shout out to @abibliophobiaa for helping me figure this chapter out lol.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

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5:00 ───ㅇ─────────────── 24:00

HOUR FIVE - 8:00 PM

Civility. What a fragile construct. 

You and Eddie are hyper aware of its presence as the minutes pass. It’s a glass wall between the two of you, offering false security and fragile mediation. When he brings up dinner, and there’s no sign of agreement any time soon as he wants the opposite of every suggestion you make, you catch your reflection in it, reminding yourself to carefully think over your words. Every insult manages to catch in your throat, to simmer until softened to something appropriate. And you know he’s doing exactly the same thing as his pauses begin to drag out between replies, as you lose count of the number of times he’s opened his mouth only to immediately snap it shut. 

It works, though. Even with the weight of the agreement in the room, the wall takes the pressure in stride. There’s not a single crack emerging. 

Eddie still sits on the couch with you, this time the TV is turned on to some cable show rerun that has turned into background noise for the two of you. 

He never moved back to the opposite end of the couch. One wrong move, and your thigh could easily press into his, sink into the warmth that radiates from him. It’s all you can think about as he is trying to convince you that the Lord of the Rings books are worth reading, especially if you enjoy the movies. 

If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have noticed when he cuts off suddenly. You would have stopped listening long ago. Which is a shame, not that you’d admit it, because he actually had interesting points to make. 

“What?” you scrunch your nose as his stare hardens across the room, at something by the TV. Suddenly, the almost-glare blooms into delight, and you can’t breathe. 

“We’ve managed to be civil for a whole forty-five minutes.”

You finally follow his gaze and realize he had been looking at the small cable box, blinking blue numbers on the front screen reading the time. 

“Oh,” you say softly, fighting a grin to match his current one, “Yeah, we have been. That’s gotta be a new record.” 

It hadn’t been easy, but it had been doable. Maybe the hours could continue to be less doable. 

“You know, I thought you would have told me to shut up about my nerd shit by now,” he muses, bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his stubbled chin, legs spreading a bit further as he remains reclined into the cushions beside you. 

His knee brushes yours. You still haven’t found your breath that had escaped you from watching his eyes light up in realization. 

“I came pretty close,” you tease and nearly lean in, nearly pressing your knee harder into his. 

It was becoming too easy to act this way with him. You try to think of a time you’d ever given this such room to breathe. But you draw nothing but blanks, save for the first night you’d met Eddie. A night that had been blossoming with buds of hopefulness and blind optimism that had been cursed to die on the vine. 

Although, maybe not all of them had died. There might have been a few dwindlers, and they might have found themselves finally watered after such a harsh winter between the two of you in the revelation of fragile civility these last forty-five minutes. 

“Was it when I went on my ten minute rant about how cool it would have been to bring up werewolves in the movies? Or was it my passion for Samwise being a singer?” your head falls back in gentle laughter, closing your eyes for a second. He goes as far as to nudge your shoulder with his own, “Come on, I’m serious! I do hear myself sometimes, you know. I know when I’m being Lord of the Dorks over here.” 

Your shoulder burns where he had bumped it. Not from pain. 

Your eyes are still closed as you shake your head, “No, no. I think I actually agree with the werewolves, but I’m still on the fence about turning the movies into musicals.” 

When you finally do open your eyes, head rolling to face him and press your cheek atop your burning shoulder, you find him staring at you. Which would have been fine, no big deal, if he was still grinning vibrantly. 

He’s looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion, an emotion you’d not only never seen him look at you with, but any of your shared friends. It’s almost as if he’s no longer in the room with you.

You’re immediately worried you’ve offended him, “Oh, shit. Are you into musicals? I’m sorry, I tried to get into them, but I just-”

“I am,” the emotion drains from his eyes as he snaps back to reality, “I… But I mean, I get it. Not everyone is into musicals, I was just a theater kid.” 

“A theater kid?” your worry is long gone as you sit up, looking at him excitedly, “No way. I would have never guessed that you, Eddie Munson, the most dramatic person I know, were a theater kid.” 

He looks down bashfully, and his curls form a curtain around his face. His dimples are effectively hidden as he shyly smiles, and you’re kind of glad for it. “Shut up. Buckley’s more dramatic than I am. Have you ever heard her go off on one of her rabies rambles?” 

“Of course. She was also a theater kid.” 

“Oh, trust me - I know. We’ve bonded.” 

The conversation dwindles, but the ghost of the dimples don’t. He tucks some of the stray strands of the curtain behind his ear, and you start to regret ever noticing the damn things. 

“We never decided on dinner, you know,” you blurt out and change the topic, because you desperately need something to distract you right now. You’re starting to believe you might prefer arguing with him to whatever storm was building beneath the surface of civility.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, turning to look at the clock again, “You’re right.” 

Never thought I’d hear you saying that to me of all people, you bite back from saying. 

“Most places are closing soon,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, surely thinking back on the way you couldn’t come to an agreement earlier. If you dived back into that, you’d probably spend the rest of the night bickering. But then he lights up again, just as he had when he’d realized your record-breaking streak of civility, “Say, you like bar food?” 

—

“Eddie, I really can’t afford overpriced bar food!” 

“And I already said I’d pay for you.”

“What about our photo proof? We were supposed to send it ten minutes ago.” 

“You texted them mentioning we’ll be a little late with it, right?” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Then it’s fine.” 

The entire ten minute walk from Eddie’s apartment to what he claims is his favorite bar in town had been filled with the endless bickering, still managing to be lighthearted enough to not cause any cracks in the civility. 

He’d chastised you about making excuses, and you hated him, because he was right. Every issue you’d brought up about going to the bar with him had been easily solved with one of his solutions. You were grasping for straws at this point.

Because you were nervous. Nervous that civility wouldn’t hold up in public, nervous that if alcohol was added to the equation that tongues would get too loose. 

But none of it mattered. When Eddie initially suggested going to the bar, he’d caught your smile at the idea and realized you two had finally found common ground. He was now a man on a mission. 

“I really don’t want you paying for me,” you huff as he holds the door to the bar open for you, motioning for you to enter before him. 

“It’s really not that expensive, you can pay me back later if you really want,” he waves off, “Buy me a drink or something while we’re here, even.” 

You’d always witnessed Eddie being generous with your friends, always known that he was altruistic as he’d offer to pay for people. Half the time, he never made them pay him back. All he cared about when with friends was everyone having fun. And you’d never been on the receiving end of that — not until tonight. 

He bumps into you when you stop just a few steps into the bar’s entry, glancing around the small room. It wasn’t much, two pool tables set up on the far end of the building, a full bar taking up most of the space inside. You could see some sort of jukebox sitting unplugged in the corner and several booths were occupied with patrons already. 

It was cozy. It wasn’t going out of its way to impress anyone, and it’s probably why you’d never come inside before. From the outside, you hardly were able to decipher it was a bar, especially in the darkness of the night. 

“Sorry,” you turn to apologize, his hands feather light on your biceps to make sure you didn’t stumble from the force of his impact.

He waves it off just as he had waved off your concerns of him picking up the bill for the night, focusing instead on your reaction, “You like it?”

“It’s… nice,” you offer with a shrug as he guides you to the bar. There definitely weren’t any open tables; it was a Saturday night, and even if the place was capable of giving off quaint vibes, there was an abundance of college students who had the same idea as you and him had. 

None of them were locked into the same agreement as you two, though. You were sure of it.

The bartender greets Eddie by name, beaming as he promises he’ll come over with his usual soon. 

“Wow,” you laugh, lifting yourself onto a stool beside him, “You weren’t kidding about it being your usual hangout.”

“I swear I’m not an alcoholic or anything,” he rushes out, “I just… I dunno. Like you said, it’s nice here.” 

You couldn’t believe it. If you dared to look into his words further, you’d swear that Eddie was trying to avoid tarnishing your view of him. He’d never cared about that before.

“I wouldn’t judge you,” you say once the two of you have settled into your seats. Stools were never going to be more comfortable than a booth, but it would do for the next hour. “If you were an alcoholic. I mean, we’re college students. Kind of part of the whole gig,” He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow as he grabs one of the menus from the sticky wood surface in front of you two, “Every college student can be promised three things: unimaginable debt for a stupid piece of paper, the ability to run off of far less sleep than anyone ever should, and a terrible reliance on alcohol.” 

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “You’re funny.” 

The surviving buds on the vine nearly prepare to bloom, just about ready to untuck themselves from your chest and press against the glass wall of civility. 

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I’m funny,” your biting grin is infectious, “Tell me again and stroke my ego, big boy.” 

He flushes pink on the apples of his cheeks, bright and furious even under the dim lighting of the bar, “Oh, fuck off. I’m never complimenting you again.” 

Your newest enemies, those fucking dimples, and the way the blush spreads as he glances down at the menu suddenly become too much. The combination has the ability to choke you, to possibly make your heart stop, if it isn’t for the bartender finally interrupting the moment. 

“Hey there, Eds,” the man not much older than the two of you greets, looking at you with unbridled curiosity, “And… lady friend of Eds.” 

You don’t know why, but you tell the stranger your name. Sweet and low, soft spoken compared to the way you had just been blatantly teasing the boy at your side. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he chimes with the type of charisma you’re familiar with when it comes to the food industry. You didn’t make tips if you weren’t kind, if you weren’t borderline flirting with nearly every customer by overflowing with friendliness and compliments, “So, I’ve got your regular here,” he places a glass in front of Eddie, something dark with a few sparse bubbles, “What can I get for you, though?” he turns to you. 

You glance over at the menu Eddie holds, and he shifts it so you can see it better. But as your eyes glance over the drink options, nothing grabs your attention. 

“Full bar, right?” you feel a bit foolish as the man waves behind at the large wall filled with bottles of a variety of alcohol. Duh. “You know how to make an amaretto sour?” 

The man grins widely, nodding enthusiastically before turning to Eddie, “She’s got good taste. I’ll be right back with it for you, hun.” 

The moment the bartender leaves, Eddie is leaning in closer to you, mimicking you in a falsetto, “Full bar, right?”

His cologne is nice. Something spicy, almost musky. Fitting for him.

You don’t hesitate to shove his shoulder, “Shut up. We’re supposed to be civil, remember?” 

“Ah, I see,” his eyes mischievously glint, enjoying this bout of satirizing far too much, “You can tease me, but I can’t tease you. That sound about right?” 

“Exactly,” you sigh jokingly, unable to look at him, already knowing the smile he’s wearing, “Sorry you didn’t get the first memo.” 

He finally, finally, stops leaning in towards you, and carries the scent of his cologne with him. You decide to lock away that detail of him into the same eternal prison of your brain with the dimples. Another thing about him you need to forget after the twenty fours end. 

“My bad, sweetheart. At least I’m up to date now.” 

You ignore the vine as it tightens at the casual use of the nickname again. There’s no need to dive deeper into that reaction. 

“What’s his name?” you finally look at him, eyes catching on the slope of his nose and sharp jaw in the smoky atmosphere. 

“Who? The bartender?” you nod, and he takes a sip of his drink, “Frank. He’s really nice, looks a lot younger than he is, lucky bastard.” 

“What, you don’t think you’ll age so gracefully?” you’re back to teasing Eddie, because God, is it easy. It’s a perfect medium between the two of you. Still biting, still a little mean, but not harmful. It’s innocent and refreshing, breathing a new wave of novelty into your relationship, wherever it may currently stand.

“Who’s not aging gracefully?” The bartender, Frank, questions as he places your amaretto sour in front of you. You mutter your thanks, “Because if you’re talking about Eds here, you’re right. Think this guy has aged ten years in the six months I’ve known him.” 

Six months? You don’t know why you’re so shocked, but part of you had just figured he’d been coming to this bar for as long as he’d lived in his apartment. Which, to be fair, you didn’t know how long he’d occupied that space, either. It had to have been at least a year. There’s been no mention of him moving the entire time you’ve known him. 

“I have not,” Eddie defends himself, hand gripping his drink. 

“Have too,” Frank ends the argument there, not giving Eddie a chance for rebuttal before he lets his gaze go back and forth between the two of you, “So, any food tonight, or just drinks?” 

“Could we actually get an order of garlic parmesan fries?” Eddie is surprisingly polite, and looks at you after he’s placed the order, “If that’s okay with you?” 

You blink, taken back by his consideration, “Um, yeah. That sounds good.” 

Frank nods, “Fries. Got it. Anything else?” 

Eddie is still looking at you, subtly moving the menu closer to you, as if urging you to help yourself. You pick up the laminated paper, and your knuckles brush against his before you’re glancing over your options.

You curse yourself as your hands shake. You’re not nervous – why are they shaking? 

“Are your mozzarella sticks any good?” you finally ask, peering up at Frank.

“They’re excellent. Also, not to brag, but our marinara is the best in town. I swear it.” 

You look to Eddie, as if seeking out permission, and he nods ever so slightly, “I’ll take your word for it. One order of those, please.” 

“Of course. One order of fries and one order of mozzarella sticks coming right up.” 

With that, Frank leaves you and Eddie on your own again, somehow feeling secluded and alone even on the edges of the bustling room. It’s as if there’s a bubble around the two of you, unbreachable by the strangers that surround you. 

Your phone buzzing in your pocket catches your attention, just as it had done numerous times thus far this night, and you pull it out to see two new notifications from Steve.

STEVE-O: photo. 

STEVE-O: now.

You don’t realize Eddie was reading the messages over your shoulder until he suddenly chuckles, “Jesus, when did Harrington become so demanding?” 

“He’s always been this way,” you mutter as you quickly open your phone, the camera app already being opened from your previously provided evidence, “Consider yourself lucky to not be in the groupchat. His attitude grows tenfold through texts.” 

“Clearly.” 

You turn the phone awkwardly in one hand, choosing to go for a wider shot that captures the bar setting behind you and Eddie. He grabs his glass, holding up his drink as if he’s cheersing the camera. 

You’re about to take the photo, when Eddie suddenly sighs, “Oh, come on. Don’t leave me hanging.” 

His free hand nudges your own drink into your hand, and you take it without complaint. 

You both hold up your glasses, forcing mimicry of annoyed expressions directed at the camera and not each other. 

The moment the click of the photo being taken is lost into the atmosphere of the bar, chatter of nearby strangers and clinking of beer bottles together, Eddie’s attention is fully on you.

“To civility,” he says, moving his glass in a grandiose gesture towards yours. 

You take a second before you register it. You’re too busy mapping out his face beyond the dimples, beyond the wild curls that catch the bar lighting just right, all the way up to the hiding freckle beneath his right eye and the cotton candy shade of pink of his pursed lips. It’s as if you’re pressing your cheeks into the wall of civility between you and letting the glass fog over with your breath. As if you’re just now seeing Eddie for the first time, no cloak of hatred or distortion of annoyance to keep you from his memorizing features. 

You shake your head, try to physically rid your head of the uncharted thoughts before you clink your glass to his, “To civility.” 

—

Maybe civility isn’t such a fragile concept. Maybe, just maybe, it’s a reasonable foundation for yours and Eddie’s night. 

Over garlic parmesan fries and mozzarella sticks, and several refills of your amaretto sour and his Jack & Coke (you’d found that out when you’d ask to try his drink, and had grimaced at the harsh whiskey), you two practice the act of it almost flawlessly. 

Eddie tells you a bit more about the first time he’d wandered across this bar, how he’d been kicked out of a different one earlier that night and simply wasn’t ready to go home yet. Somehow, after the story, once he’s shed his leather jacket to drape over the back of his seat and you find yourself angling your body towards him more fully, the attention focuses more on you meeting the group. 

You both have to lean in closer to each other, what at the beginning of the night should have been too close for comfort, as the bar grows busier. You tell him about freshman year of college, that wretched 8 AM math class that’s only redeeming quality was bringing you and Steve together. He was better at math than you, or at least taking notes on the subject. Somehow, the two of you had ended up in an agreement of being ‘study buddies’, as Steve had nicknamed it. Two years later, after several more deliberately shared classes, Steve had finally decided to introduce the girl he’d been ditching their Thursday movie nights for to the gang. It had started with Robin – she’d been in a Psychology class with you and Steve – and all the pieces fell together from there. 

“I still can’t believe you and Harrington never… you know….” Eddie trails off and downs the last of his third Jack & Coke. When Frank motions from across the bar if he’d like a refill, Eddie shakes his head and covers the top of his glass with his wide palm. 

His rings glinted in the low lights, and your stomach did flips. You blame it on the fourth amaretto sour you were nursing. 

“Oh, trust me,” the alcohol has your lips moving more loosely, giggling between your words, “We definitely thought about it. Even got wine drunk one night our sophomore year and tried it.” 

“What?” Eddie exclaims, leaning so far into your space now that his curls brush your bare shoulders, “No way. No fucking way.” 

“Yes way!” your face grows pink, more from laughter than embarrassment, “It was awful! I mean, in our defense we were both drunk, but still. I just…” you sigh out, and lean back in your stool without even noticing that Eddie has his arm draped over the back of it, “We both realized we were way better off friends. I’m a better wing-woman for him now than some fling.” 

“Don’t let Robin hear you,” Eddie chuckles, popping a fry in his mouth before he relaxes back as well. His arm is still on the back of your chair. “You know, he did talk you up a lot before he introduced you to everyone.” 

“Yeah?” you raise an eyebrow. 

Eddie’s brows furrow as he nods viciously, “Oh, God, yeah. Had us all thinking he was just in denial about having a thing for you.” 

“Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Nah. Only good things. Besides, once Robin met you? It was game over,” if you had been watching Eddie more carefully, you would have seen that unrecognizable emotion crossing his face once more, glazing over his eyes rather than the alcohol he’d consumed, “They really do love you, y’know?” 

You don’t know. Which is a shame. Because on your good days, you’d usually tell yourself that they do enjoy your company, that you do fit into the group. But doubt had an easy job of having its way with you when Eddie existed, when Eddie seemingly loathes you. 

Your silence answers his rhetorical-turned-serious question, and he’s suddenly leaning forward to catch your gaze, “You do know that… right?” 

Your shrug makes his arm fall off of your chair, not intentionally so. It had simply gotten closer to your shoulders with the time passing, and the movement makes it fall limply to his side. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie groans in what you’re realizing is his usual, playful demeanor, “The entire group loves you so much, it’s irritating. Never shut up about you, inviting you to plans, all that shit.”

“You don’t,” your voice is a whisper. 

It’s the first time that either of you had so much as knocked on the glass wall of civility. A gentle tap of your knuckles against an easily forgotten barrier, but a knock nonetheless. 

“What?” Eddie squints, and he’s leaning in closer, and you suddenly feel suffocated again. His cologne is in your nose, his faded dimples are in your vision. You could count his eyelashes if you spared him a quick glance. 

But you don’t. You can’t bear to look at him, because the entire moment is becoming far too vulnerable. 

You clear your throat, “The entire group, except you, loves me. Which, I mean, I get. Not everyone is going to like me, and I’ve sort of been a bitch to you-” 

“You haven’t-” 

“-and honestly, I’ve really played into the fact that I annoy you so much this entire time. You hate me, I hate you-”

“I don’t-”

“-it’s fine.” 

Despite Eddie’s attempted interruptions, you manage to finish your speech, chest heaving by the end of it. He’s stunned, mouth opening and closing multiple times before he finally seemingly collects his thoughts. 

“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole, but I don’t really-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off. Unlike when he’d interjected and you’d ignored him, he lets you speak. 

“Eddie, you said you’d celebrate my death,” you smile sheepishly at him, and you can feel that glass barrier shaking. Bringing up something awful, something terribly mean from mere hours ago isn’t a gentle knock on glass. It’s a slapping of a palm, a dare for cracks to start appearing. 

His entire expression falls, “I… That was stupid of me to say.” 

“It was,” you agree, because you’re not sure what else you could say, “It was, but I get it. The feeling’s mutual and all, right?” 

Eddie is quiet. You almost miss his voice, even with all the other tones of strangers bouncing around you. 

“Can I ask why you hate me, though?” you try to keep your tone as light as possible, to not let this moment get any worse. You try to keep your fists from pounding on the glass of civility, “We’ve never really talked about it before. I know you have your reasons – I’ve got mine.” 

His jaw clenches. You can physically see his thought process. He’s probably got a million reasons, and right now, he’s just thumbing through them, trying to find the one that won’t break your agreement of being kinder to each other. 

“You…” he starts, and the wheels are still turning in his head, eyes looking everywhere but you now, “I don’t know, you just seemed… s-selfish.” 

You almost don’t see it – the first crack in the glass, the first sign of civility crumbling. 

“Selfish?” you echo back, crestfallen, nearly wounded. You attempt to hide it, to not show him that his words affect you, because you’d asked for this. You’d asked the damn question, fueled by liquid confidence, and he was giving it to you. 

“Yeah, just… Full of yourself?” his voice jumps up an octave at the end of his sentence, as if he’s unsure, as if he’s asking you if that’s the right answer. The crack spreads, and begins to distort your vision of him, “I knew you had been sort of popular in high school, and you carried yourself like those popular kids I knew. And… and…” 

His eyes finally stop fleeting from yours. He meets your gaze, and you know you weren’t equipped with strong enough armor to hide the wounds he was inflicting. He could see the bruises as his hits landed, accidental or not. 

“I just thought you were everything I’d always hated. So I hated you.” 

The crack splinters, and hairline fractures split the image of Eddie into unrecognizable pieces. The boy you’d grown accustomed to thus far tonight, the boy you’d grown comfortable with, is gone in your eyes. 

“So,” your voice is tight, and you know you won’t be able to keep up with eye contact, not when it all starts to sting so ardently, “You judged a book by its cover, and decided I’m a royal, spoiled bitch. Isn’t that exactly what everyone in high school did to you?” 

“How did you-”

“Steve told me. He told me about your reputation, about being a freak, everything.” 

The splintering has spread to his side of the glass, clearly, as you say the word freak. 

“Is that why you hate me?” his tone hardens, gaze no longer sympathetic. Not that you see the change. “You decided I’m a freak, too?”

“I never said that-”

“No? Sorry, I thought we were just putting words into each other’s mouths.” 

The bar is busy, and you wonder if the bystanders can hear the wall of civility finally shattering. You have no idea if any of the shards hit Eddie, but you can feel them dig into your chest, your arms, your stomach. Shards that remind you of what could have been.

Shards that remind you of what was lost because Eddie Munson had decided he hated you long before he met you. 

“You’re the one who hated me before you even met me,” you scoff cruelly. 

“I never fucking said that-”

“You did, though,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “You said so yourself. Steve mentioned I was sort of popular in high school, and you just- you just decided to shove me into a box of what I would be. Some girl you didn’t even know.”

“Well, pardon me,” he snaps, “I didn’t exactly have the best experience with the popular kids, but you should know that since Stevie told you everything, right? Hell, he probably mentioned it over pillowtalk for your one night together, right?” 

You were an idiot. You had let yourself forget that Eddie is not normally kind, that Eddie is not normally so trustworthy as he’s been the last hour. You’d let your guard down, and now, the ramifications were staring you down right between the eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you angrily spit, moving to stand up, “I told you that in fucking confidence, because I thought… I thought…” 

“You thought..?” he presses as you turn to face him, shorter than him now that you weren’t both sitting in the stools, “What? That we were friends?” 

Yes. Because for a moment, I thought we were becoming friends, like a fucking idiot. 

His chest is heaving now. Just as yours had during your rant to him, your attempt to soothe over the fact that he hated you. You regret it. You regret ever agreeing on civility. 

“My mistake,” you choke out, “It won’t happen again.” 

You’ve caught him off guard. Maybe he had been prepared for you to deny it, maybe he had thought you’d laugh in his face at the idea of you considering him a friend.

But you hadn’t. You’d just confirmed to him that you did have that moment of weakness. You’d admitted that yes, for a vulnerable moment, you’d considered him a friend. A confidant over sweetened alcohol, cheap bar food, and trust. 

He’d had your trust, and he’d now lost it. 

You don’t wait around to see how he takes the revelation. You’re already storming out the front door of the bar, grateful you can still remember which direction his apartment is in. You don’t care if he’s following you – part of you hopes he isn’t. 

Until part of you is. Because as you step out into the night, a few shadows against the brickwall are brought to life by your appearance. 

“Hey there,” one of the men call out, “What’s a girl like you doing all alone?” 

You don’t process that the man is talking to you at first, head down and anger flaming. 

“Hey, you!” There’s a sudden hand on your shoulder, making you jolt your head up, “Yeah, you. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone?” 

His grin is sinister. Sickly sweet in faux honey, blonde hair swept back and breath reeking of rum. 

“M-Me?” you stutter, trying to take a careful step back, to get his hand off your shoulder. 

Your heart is no longer racing with fury. It’s pounding with fear. 

“Does it look like there’s any other pretty girls out here?” he slurs with a chuckle, glancing around to his friends.

You look around as well, and realize with sinking trepidation that there’s no one else out here, “No. But, uh, I’m good. I.. I’m not… interest-” 

“What’s your name, honey?” he leans in closer, and you can’t help but lean back. It makes his grip on you tighten. “I’m Jason. Are you all alone? Because, I’ll be honest, I’ve been striking out all night and would love to take a pretty thing like you home with me.” 

“I’m g-good,” you start again, “Please, uh, please let go-” you're shaking your head, trying harder to pull off his hand. 

“Oh, come on. It’d be fu-” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. One second, he’s pressing too close to you, holding you tight enough to leave bruises as you’re cringing and suddenly squirming to get out of his grasp, and the next – he’s gone. 

“Get the fuck off her.” 

You’re still too shocked to move, glancing down at your shoulder that’s now red and sore. But you know that voice. 

It’s the voice that had just told you he’d hated you before he ever met you. 

“Hey, man!” The intruder, Jason, protests as he’s shoved harshly against the wall. “What the fuck?” 

You finally look to see what’s happening properly. Eddie isn’t facing you, his broad back and shoulders appearing menacing in the shadows as Jason sinks further back against the wall. 

“She’s not going home with you.” 

His tone doesn’t waver, even as you catch the clench of his shaking fist. 

Jason catches sight of you, still standing where he left you, and the nauseating smirk returns, “I think we should let her decide, shouldn’t we?” 

You see Eddie move to raise his fist, and your body finally unfreezes. In an instant, you’re at his side, and your hand wraps around his bicep to prevent the punch he was surely pretending to send Jason’s way.

“Eddie,” you plead, tugging him backwards, anger momentarily forgotten. He doesn’t look at you, but he immediately takes the arm in your hold and wraps it around you in order to tuck you further behind his body, away from the wide, drunken stares of these men. You hate it, but it makes you feel safer, even as you grip the leather of his jacket’s sleeve tighter, “Eddie, please, let’s go.” 

“So she’s spoken for?” Jason pushes his luck, still slurring his words. 

Eddie’s fist clenches again. Without thinking, your hand not on his arm reaches down to grasp his fist. 

Your heart's still pounding. You’re still trembling, shaken up terribly – he can feel it. 

“Please,” you beg one last time. 

This time, he listens. The fist unravels, and in an instant, he has your hand locked in his, palm against sweaty palm. 

He’s not as rough as you expect him to be as he’s dragging you away from the scene. You can still hear the cat-calls, the taunts, of the drunken men, but it only spurs Eddie to walk faster. You struggle to keep up, his long legs carrying him more easily through the long strides, but you don’t protest, eager to get away from whatever the fuck just happens.

Neither of you say another word during the walk to his apartment. Your shoulder continues to ache, your hand stays tangled in his, and you can still feel the prick of civility’s shards in your chest, lodged dangerously close to your vines and closing buds of hopefulness. 

Civility. What a broken construct. 

–

BIRDIE: they are literally on a date right now. 

JOHNNY: I’m not doing this right now. 

DINGUS: god, i hate to admit it, but rob’s right. are they at a bar right now? am i seeing that right?

BIRDIE: yes!! i called it!! i fucking called it!!! god, only five hours in and they’re already on their first date.

ARGYLE ​​😎: love is in the air my dudes

JOHNNY: @ARGYLE ​​😎Don’t encourage them. 

NANCE: It is NOT their first date. Eddie wouldn’t take her to a bar for their first date.

BIRDIE: hold on, how would you know what eddie would do for their first date? 

NANCE: He’d probably take her somewhere nice, like whatever this town’s equivalent of Enzo’s. 

DINGUS: when the fuck has eddie talked about where he’d take her for the first date? 

BIRDIE: nancy what the fuck do you know?

JOHNNY: Lol

NANCE: Forget I said anything. 

BIRDIE: nancy, please explain yourself immediately.

DINGUS: nance? when? the? fuck? 

NANCE: He was drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.

BIRDIE: NANCY.

JOHNNY: Now you’ve done it. 

DINGUS: NANCY.

ARGYLE ​​😎: does this mean what i think it means?

BIRDIE: NANCE. 

JOHNNY: Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? 

NANCE has left the groupchat.

[epidaleacalamita]

“When Sahiris forsook faith and law to become the Saint-Heretic, she cast aside her own Starspear, and in its stead took up a broad-bladed executioner’s sword, an unadorned instrument of simple violence. Perhaps it was a reflection of her own transformation from one of the Empire’s celebrated Warsaints into the instrument of its destruction.”

[gisellelx]

Faces

Carlisle x Esme 2200 words

for @needahugfromesme

Faces

Fall, 1934 Amherst, MA

It was an utterly ordinary afternoon. Rosalie and Edward had recently returned from university, and the sounds of their bickering rose up the stairs. Why the two of them did not find their peace elsewhere, she didn’t know. She might send them off to hunt, she thought. Perhaps in different counties.

Yet there was something familiar about the way the two of them had fallen into rhythm as siblings. Edward, older and younger brother at once. Rosalie, full of disastrously-won wisdom and always aggrieved, unwilling to listen to Edward’s point of view. There was no sign that they would ever be the partners Esme’s husband had once imagined, hoping that a woman might solve the same hole in Edward’s heart that Esme herself had solved in his. And yet there was a camaraderie in their arguments and insults, a rhythm to their family dynamic that somehow made it more whole. They were true siblings—occasionally quietly bonded over the latest news from Chevrolet, more often sniping like children about closed bedroom doors.

Carlisle, though—he was more difficult. Rosalie had snapped at him before he’d left for work. Her resentment knew no bounds, exacerbated by the knowledge that even in his moment of profoundly foolish savior-complex, he had been thinking of Edward, and the pain that still burned in his own heart, two years after their prodigal son had returned…

Esme wasn’t sure Rosalie would ever forgive him.

She wasn’t sure Rosalie should.

Her husband didn’t know how to relate to a daughter, Esme understood. His son had completed him so fully—unlocking with his gift the centuries of solitude which made Carlisle Cullen who he was. Like everything of importance Carlisle did, he had turned Rosalie it rashly, without regard to her effects on anyone else.

Rosalie was just strong enough to force him to pay the price for that.

Esme recalled her husband’s slumped shoulders as he exited the house after the latest round of berating from his daughter. The look in his eyes of utter defeat.

“She’ll cool off,” Esme had whispered to him hours before, but she hadn’t—as usual, she had taken her discomfort out on Edward. And as Esme listened to the voices reaching a fever pitch downstairs—a back and forth which grew increasingly intense but did not reach a point where she needed to intervene—she selected charcoal, her hand flying across the paper on her easel before she even knew what she was beginning. As so many times before, it was her husband’s face her fingers brought to mind. She had drawn him how many dozens of times in the ten years between the time she had met him and when she had awoken to this new life. The high cheekbones, the square jaw, the singular lock of utterly unruly hair at his temple which seemed to exist only to prove that there were some things Carlisle Cullen could never control. She had forced herself to recall those features over and over, to render them in more permanent forms—charcoal, pencil, oil pastel. Over and over she had drawn him until his face had been committed not only to the memory of her mind but also the memory of her fingers.

She had never planned to have a daughter. She had known, somehow, from the moment she felt the first strange sensation in her abdomen. Not a kick or a flutter or any of the things that her girlfriends had told her to expect, but instead as though some of her internal organs simply…flipped over. She had touched her own belly in awe, and had known right then, without thinking, that it was a male child. Perhaps a daughter would have softened her husband, but she knew, somehow, that a male child was in greater danger. That he would not be protected; that he would be pushed, that the expectation upon his barely-formed shoulders would be impossible. It had been that conviction that had put her on the Great Lakes train, whisked her to a state she’d never seen before,  and which later drove her from her cousin’s to the very northern tip of the country.

Then her son had been born, with his tiny squalling body and his perfect smell, only to be ripped away fewer than two days later. And she had reached out in despair and found not her son, but the gentle face she had sketched for  a decade, staring down at her.

Today, as she laid out the roughest of her husband’s familiar form, Esme was not fully aware that somehow, she had softened the beautiful severity of his cheekbones, that she had added subtle curvature to the sharpness of his jaw. But she had done so, and it wasn’t Carlisle’s face which was emerging.

It had been an entire year, now, that their family of three had been a family of four. And a scant single score of years that the hardened bachelor and his beloved son had welcomed any feminine presence into their lives. She had worried about being a bother to them both, and she knew, that sometimes, she was—the way Edward’s eyes would narrow from time to time, the way Carlisle shadowed him when he was upset.

And so she tried. She tried to reach to Rosalie. She tried to bridge the shared elements of their past, only to be met with the coldest of shoulders. This family, Rosalie seemed to say, was the world of the men. Rose hated Carlisle for his hubris, hated Edward for his gift, and if she didn’t hate Esme, it was only for Esme’s shared experience of these two things.

So, as she thought of her daughter, listened to bickering give way to quiet conversation, and then to silence, and then to the gentle chords of a sonata, the cheekbones softened, the jawbone became subtler, the high forehead became heart-shaped with a widow’s peak. The nose became thinner, the lips softer, and the single unruly lock of golden hair became dozens, spilling onto shoulders which sloped more gently.

It was difficult for vampires to get fully lost in work, and so she heard when the front door open and close. Edward was still playing, and wherever Rose had moved to—her bedroom, if the distance to her scent was to believed—she was quiet. So Esme knew that her husband was home even before she heard a briefcase drop gently to the floor and before the waft of smoked cinnamon made its way to her nose. She had a split-second to consider this fact before warm lips had buried themselves where her neck met her collarbone.

“What are you drawing,” her husband muttered, and she shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“It’s never nothing.” He stepped back and appraised the easel, reaching out with one hand. She laid down her charcoal and smacked his arm playfully.

“It isn’t nothing. But I’m not finished yet. Go bother the children.”

He sighed. “They’re fighting.”

“They’ve been fighting all afternoon. It’s quieter, now.”

Her husband chuckled, pressing his lips to her neck again. “I apologize for leaving you alone all day with that.”  

She shook her head. “Edward plays impromptus when he’s angry with Rose. It’s good background.” It had been Fauré , today—the impossibly fast descending scales across the keyboard, sounding like water. Esme had never bothered to learn the details of classical music before, but now it was impossible not to—she marveled at times at the way her mind was able to store the names of styles and composers and even the actual beats of the music itself. She hadn’t cared, before, but with Edward, it became a thing about which one cared. To love Edward was to love his piano, and that meant that all of them learned to understand it.

“Give me another half-hour?” she asked.

Her husband nodded, kissing her neck again and then disappearing. The piano stopped mid-phrase, and she heard only one-sided murmurs which told her that Carlisle and Edward were engaged in one of their desperately intimate conversations. If she strained, she could hear them, no doubt, but she chose not to, letting her hand bring shape to the face whose provenance she now understood. She kept the long eyelashes, and the light-hued eyes. She made the lips ever so slightly fuller, and drew the slightest hint of a bosom at the bottom of the page.

It was longer than a half hour before Carlisle returned. From the subtle addition to his scent, it seemed likely he had been sitting with Edward at the piano, having one of their near-silent conversations. Edward could read Carlisle’s mind, of course, but after a decade and a half, it often seemed that Carlisle could read Edward’s almost as surely. They often sat in silent companionship, Edward plying, Carlisle listening, bonded by their thoughts and impenetrable by either Rosalie or Esme.

Carlisle kissed her before even bothering to look at the easel. She let herself fall into the kiss, the way her husband’s supple lips moved against her own. It was only several minutes later that he seemed to remember what he had intended to inquire after, and pulled away to appraise the drawing. His head cocked to one side as he gazed at it, his mouth falling open slightly in recognition.

He had revealed this sad fact in their very first conversation. She, half-delirious from the laudanum, he, trying bravely to keep his demeanor professional. Yet she recalled it with her hazy, opiate-influenced human memory, nearly with the same crystal clarity that he did. As she’d asked after his name, and after receiving his title, asked his first name, which he had, to his own surprise, volunteered.

“I’ve never met a Carlisle before,” she’d told him, and he’d only smirked.

“Nor I an Esme. One wonders why you are not a Mary, or a Margaret.”

And she’d returned his smile and his gentle banter. She had inquired where the unusual name had come from, and he had answered that perhaps it was his mother’s maiden name, and then she had asked after his mother, eliciting the same pained, faraway look that graced his features now as he explained how and when she had died...

“Not knowing what your father looked like,” Esme offered as he stared silently, “I wasn’t sure which of your features to subtract, but…”

The gulp was audible. “No,” her husband said quietly, “I imagine this is about right.” Another deep swallow, then: “What brought this on?”

She shrugged. “I’m not even sure myself.” Involuntarily, her right hand opened and closed, feeling the ghost of the charcoal still in her fingers. She sighed.

“Rosalie,” she said quietly.

Carlisle shot her a quizzical look.

“I suppose I was thinking about Rosalie. And how you left with her still angry.”

There were two stools in her studio, one before each easel, both unnecessary in the strictest sense, but they encouraged the right posture for sweeping her arm across wide paper or canvas. Carlisle pulled the second one near her and sat down, his lips suddenly pressed tight.

“She hates me,” he muttered.

Esme nodded. “Sometimes, yes. You don’t always make it easy for her.”

He thrust a hand into his hair, and the unruly lock fell through his fingers. When he spoke again, his voice was clipped with frustration. “I just want her to be happy.”

“You can’t force people to be happy, Carlisle.”

To her surprise, he chuckled. “You’d think that after what happened with Edward, I’d know that.”

She laughed in answer. Two years on, their mercurial son was beginning to recover from his shame and anger. Gentler songs came from the piano more often than not, and every now and then, even an original composition. Slowly, month by month, arpeggio by arpeggio, he was coming back to them.

“I suppose…” she began. When she hadn’t finished her sentence a moment later, Carlisle prodded.

“You suppose?”

She gestured. She had drawn the woman with the same tired but indulgently kind eyes her husband had. Eyes that suggested that whatever the person being looked on was wont to do, they would be forgiven. They would be loved.

“You have a daughter now,” she said gently. “I thought it might be helpful for you to remember that once, you had a mother, too.”

Her husband’s thin lips pressed together even more tightly, and she saw his adam’s apple move yet again. She stood up, brushing the charcoal off her fingertips against her skirt as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. She laid a hand on his shoulder briefly, then went down the stairs.

It was nearly two hours of listening to the piano later, watching Rosalie read and pretend not to care what Edward was playing, before Esme bothered to creep back up to her studio. The door was still open a crack, and the air was still thick with the smoked cinnamon that was her husband’s scent as she peeked inside.

Carlisle sat alone in the utter dark, his legs crossed, the moonbeams shading in through the window making his skin a translucent blue white as he gazed up into the portrait’s kind, pale eyes. Slowly, his hand crept from his side to reach out, the pad of his finger tracing the jawline she had sketched. And then it hung there, index finger outstretched, as though it was not the strong, assured hand of a surgeon but the beseeching hand of a child, reaching, desperately, across space and time.

Quietly, Esme pulled the door closed and went to find her daughter.

[fandomgodmother420]

Okay so I saw

This post ^^

And I was like

Wait wait wait okay okay hang on wait a damn minute-

Because this is cursed rite we all know this is cursed but somethin about it got me thinkin it got me thinking quite a lot and it’s the idea of Callahans character being deaf and like obviously the way it’s done here is bad but it got me thinking okay well what if you did it well? What if it wasn’t garbage? What if it became a super important part of the show?

I think I have a new favorite au now?

Okay listen listen let me explain right-Callahan would still be a side character to the side characters but first things first he’d talk using sign language and literally the first thing that he signs when people try and talk to him is that he’s deaf. He also wouldn’t be able to understand people who talk to him, they’d have to either sign, write something down, or be super expressive. (Ik a lot of deaf people read lips but I feel like in media with deaf people almost all the time they like fully rely on lip reading and their almost superhumanly good at it and idk I think it would be cool for a deaf character to just not lip read-hardly ever) so now the fact that he’s deaf isn’t just something that you can drop in interviews for brownie points. Still, he’s hardly ever there and he’s not really a part of the story and that’s just kind of annoying and for a while it seems like that’s just how it’s gonna be, just one background background deaf character who’s pretty cool but who we almost never get to see...

But the explosions that went off during the pogtopia manburg war where pretty fuckin loud

And Quackity was right on top of them. He might’ve lost a cannon life to them-it’s kinda up for debate but for the purpose of the au we’re gonna say he did, because losing a cannon life affects your body. Your body changes to suit how you died-you get scars from losing a cannon life.

Here’s where it gets good

One of the next episodes post war is 100% Quackity focused and he wakes up in a bed and he’s like welp lets just hope I’m not as bad off as Tubbo was. There’s no rustling noise when he moves the sheets and blankets to look at himself, at this point the viewer might realize there’s no music in the background either, there’s no ambient noises from outside. Quackity sees he doesn’t have visible scaring anywhere and he’s like that’s weird but good for me? I guess? He walks outside and his footsteps don’t make any noise. Tubbo runs up to him and starts talking-except he’s not making any noise either. His mouth is moving but there’s no sound coming out of it. Both quackity and the viewer are currently experiencing what’s going on in 100% silence and Quackity starts to panic. A scar would’ve been fine, a limb he can live without, but this??? He can’t hear! He can’t hear anything! Fuck is he supposed to do now?

He runs to Sapnap and Karl, they’re not dating yet but they make him feel safe and he doesn’t know where else to go or what to do and Sapnaps like “I know a guy” but neither the audience nor Quackity hears him say it. His mouth moves but again, no sound. Nothing. Still he makes it clear that he has an idea and that he’ll be right back. Mans fuckin books it to Callahan and after a bit of frantic gestures and sloppy sign language because ya know of course Sapnap did try to learn sign to talk to Callahan at some point he just doesn’t practice nearly enough, Callahan comes over to Quackity and starts teaching him and Karl ASL and gives Sapnap a much needed review course.

That’s it. That’s the episode. An entire episode that’s 100% silent with no subtitles, that’s just Quackity learning how to function without being able to hear. In the places where Callahan can’t help Sapnap and Karl come in. Tubbo gets in on it too since he’s deaf in one ear ever since the festival. (Quackitys like damn cheif I didn’t even kno that and Tubbo admits to thinking it was just him being in shock for a long time until a bee flew around his ear for 20 minutes straight a week after the festival had happened and he didn’t know it was there until Tommy asked if he was gonna name it.) Quackity learns how to talk when he can’t hear himself speaking, how to read lips, what music is like when you can’t hear it, how to speak sign language, all that jazz.

One of the things about being deaf that scares the shit out of Quackity is not being able to hear people sneaking up on him and Tubbos like “oh you need a spotter” and Quackity makes it clear that he has no idea what the fuck that means. So Tubbo explains “a spotter, I don’t know if they actually have a different name but I call them that cuz they cover your blind spot. They’re like your eyes and ears where you don’t have any. That way nobody can sneak up on you.” If the audience is particularly observant they’ll realize that ever since the festival Tommy has always stood on Tubbos right, witch is where Tubbo had gotten scarred. (Later on after Tommy’s exiled Quackity and sometimes Fundy become the ones to cover Tubbos right, but Tubbo is more clearly on constant high alert than he used to be. On a few days like the one before the capturing techno and the one before the second festival he’s straight up jumpy and he hates it) So Quackity of course has a lot of questions is this is pretty important. “well how do I know who I should get to be my spotter? Do they need like training or something? Should I just get a service dog? ???” And Tubbos like “No. Well-maybe that’s the proper way to do it but I’d just go with someone I trust my life with-whoever makes you feel safest, go with that” and Sapnap and Karl start laughing like idiots because Quackity IMMEDIATELY grabs them-like Tubbos barley finished his sentence and Quackitys like ah yes

The hardest part is preserving Quackitys ability to speak Spanish, because he’s the only one who knows it so Karl Sapnap and Tubbo can’t tell him weather he’s pronouncing it right or not and none of them know Spanish sign language. Hell Karl and Tubbo didn’t even know Spanish sign language existed until that day. After a bit of panicking Sapnap is like “wait I know a guy” and Quackity can actually tell what he’s saying this time. (Woo parallels) So sapnap and Co. go to George who’s king now and has access to all of Erets king stuff. Turns out Erets castle has a whole shelf of translation guides for different languages and their sign language counterparts. She kept them for diplomacy reasons. It’s much harder to learn without Callahan teaching it, but progress is made and the gang decides they’ll keep working on learning it together. There’s still the problem of Quackity not being able to speak Spanish though, they end up going with does Quackity sound like how he normally does rn? for figuring out if he’s pronouncing things right. Karl and Sapnap are surprisingly good at being able to tell.

But here’s the best part rite:

So after this episode Quackity, Karl, Sapnap, Tubbo, and obvs Callahan all know sign language-they don’t all know it perfectly nobody’s gonna master it in a day but they’re working on it. And so now in later episodes in addition to the gang talking in sign language a lot when they’re the focus of a scene, you can make them talk to eachother in sign language while other stuff is going on!! No subtitles to translate or draw attention to it, some people might not even notice its happening, but if you watch them you can see them signing to eachother. You could add so many convos and lore and secrets and the best part is if the audience wants in on it they also have to learn sign language!!

Literally just-oh my god it would be the coolest thing okay like immagine:

Ranboos doing his dramatic speech to everyone. Y’all know the one-the one before doomsday after Tommy gets out of exhile. So like Ranboos doing his bit and Fundy and Nikki are arguing with him and :0! what’s this? Look in the background and Tubbo and Quackity are signing to eachother, Quackitys angry and Tubbo is somehow angrier and you watch them more closely to see what the hell is going on and realize (with your sign language knowledge)-they’re fighting about executing Ranboo.

LIKE HOW FUCKING COOL WOULD THAT BE HOLY SHIT

Anyways I have so many headcannons for this now I think it’s the coolest thing if there’s like a tag? Or something? For this thatd be so fuckin cool if there isn’t I feel like I should make one but idk what to call it ion know man I just think this is poggers as hell. To think it all sprung from someone making a DreamSMP as a garbage riverdale show joke

[datawyrms]

Changed Hunt

For Phic Phight 2021! (not completely finished but AAAAfinshnowwww) lowkey Dannymay Day 2 Portal, as well

"That portal is awesome!" Sam says. "Would be so cool if it worked."

Danny goes down into the lab that night to try a few things—it doesn't quite go as he planned.(aka a no one knows au) (Dey’s prompt!)

Danny really wished Sam and Tucker had stayed a bit longer that day. With them around, maybe he wouldn’t have wandered in that portal like an idiot. In his own defense, how could he have known that little panel in there had been an on switch? Who’d put that inside a reality tearing portal device? Jack and Maddie Fenton, apparently. He was just lucky the thing hadn’t killed him! Or at least, managed to overdo it to the point he...survived somehow? He hadn’t really decided what that portal had done exactly. Waking in a pained heap, bathed in a haunting green glow from the now active portal was confusing enough. Looking up and seeing a stranger in the reflective panel nearby just made it worse. Of course he didn’t take it well, or know what to think. If he’d become a ghost, his parents would freak. Fixing their portal by turning into some...evil human hating creature probably wasn't in the plan. At least his terror somehow managed to get him to become human again. Heartbeat and everything. He hoped it had just been a weird one off, or he’d imagined it from trauma. Until he started falling through things. He died so hard  that he got his life back? The portal only managed to kill half of him? He was dead but ‘imitating humans’ was his specialty? Some human that just got to use his ‘soul’ or whatever to be a ghost early? Sam and Tucker might have had guesses- but he knew one thing right away. Whatever happened, he wasn’t all human anymore. He couldn’t tell them. What if they decided that was just too weird? What if they blamed themselves for not being there- thought they’d killed him? It wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, he couldn’t let Mom and Dad find out, so he’d be trying to hide any of the new weirdness anyway. Might as well just always do it. Maybe the weird new abilities would just go away. They hadn’t. They just forced him to think about it to keep both feet on the ground. He could deal.

Until other ghosts started showing up. Ghosts that actually knew how to be ghosts, terrifying powers and all. Ghosts that seemed to know what he was. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when a green woman in a hairnet tapped him on the shoulder and asked who ‘changed the menu’. There was a lot of screaming and running away at that, considering she was floating and well. Obviously some sort of dead person. Freaky Fenton attracts freaky ghosts. Of course. She didn’t buy his claim of not knowing why the menu wasn’t exactly the same as fifty years ago (why would he? That’s a lot of years!) and thought setting ovens on fire and throwing them at him was a fair answer! So apparently Mom and Dad were totally right about ghosts being completely terrifying monsters that he should run away from very quickly. Which he did. He only ran into two walls he meant to go through, even. Just more reasons to never, ever tell anyone he might be like that crazed ghost lady. Mom and Dad proving their inventions actually did work sometimes was just icing on the ‘i’m so screwed’ cake. Ghosts exist, they fought one, and the school got shuttered for a week from excessive damage via flying appliance. Fun.

It was dumb to pretend that was a one off thing. It was stupid to think he could keep hiding what happened that day. Even if it felt safer, even if he just wanted to keep denying the portal was open so she could keep pretending it hadn’t done anything to him. Maybe if someone knew, he wouldn’t be hopelessly trapped by a huge glowing robot. Running didn’t work on this one like it did the older ghost lady. He tried, he really did, but the self proclaimed hunter kept tracking him down. Even when he transformed into the strange ghost version of himself he failed to dissuade the robot. Punching metal still hurt as a ghost, and so did getting pelted with little missiles. So much for intangibility being an advantage.

“You’re lucky that you’re a rare creature, whelp. Otherwise I’d be disappointed by how little effort hunting you took.”

Great, flame head thought he was a disappointing freak. More pressing was the net the ghost had shot at him that he couldn’t struggle free of. Even drawing on his weird ghost side wouldn’t let him phase through it. “Pretty sure you can’t hunt endangered species!” He redoubled his effort as the ghost picked up the net, trying to trick himself that his swinging was making him feel ill, not the terror of being carried off by some monster that came through the portal just to hunt him down.

“Hah! If I didn’t take you ghost child, someone else would simply end you.” The blank green eyes stared into his own as the machine pulled him up higher. “You should be grateful to be part of my collection.”

Danny gulped, unsure if he should keep his attention on his captor or the fact they were getting closer to the swirling portal. “How about no thanks? Since you’re such a good samaritan and all. You can just let me go and forget all about uh...this.” Why couldn’t he just squeeze out of the net, or make the rest of him all weird like when his legs decided to vanish sometimes? Pulling with his gloved hands wasn’t working, and the glow just grew  brighter as the lump in his throat got thicker. “Please? You already said I was weak, if you let me go I’ll be stronger next time!” Okay, it was a stupid plea but he’d try anything right now to not get dragged to some ghost world.

“I’m not a catch and release sort of hunter.” The ghost chuckled as his prey shrank back with the denial.

“How can you be the ‘Greatest’ hunter if you just go after kids, huh?” Begging wasn’t working, so maybe getting him angry? He couldn’t go through there, what if being on the other side made him more like this thing, or the other weird green monsters? “More like lamest hunter.”

“Oh you’ll see the sort of creatures I normally hunt, ghost child. Once you join them.” Skulker shook the net hard, rattling what little bravado Danny had managed to gather up right back out of him.

So much for that hope. “This has got to be a mistake, just let me go!” The ghost didn’t answer him, and he couldn’t help closing his eyes when the mechanical monster fired up a jetpack and flew through that portal. It wasn’t as cold as he feared it would be, it wasn’t like the void of space. Just as green as the portal, still a swirling background to everything. He swore he saw faces and doors, but couldn’t keep looking for long. The combined movement of being dragged along with the spinning energy was stomach churning enough, and he had to deal with the fact he didn’t know anything about this place. Even if this ghost decided to let him go, where would he go? Was there even anything to navigate with? He certainly didn’t see anything useful like stars. Would all this green stuff just soak into him and make him not want to find home? Nothing here made sense! It was easier to curl up instead of struggling with the net to stretch out, and the stupid ghost couldn’t see how the tears welled in his eyes as he struggled not to cry.

He should have been braver, should have tried to watch more, but it’d been too much. The crunch of metal against stone jarred him out of his silent self berating, just to be even more confused. He was on an island? That just floated, because islands did that here. Islands that had forests on them, that grew out of what looked like rock. Sure, okay. At least it was a bit of a distraction from the fact he was trapped by some evil robot in a completely different reality! Well. It had been. Seeing the fact the ghost lived in some weird stone skull jutting out of a mountain made him snort despite himself.

“You said my puns were bad, and you live in that thing?” He was pretty sure the green mohawk monster was Skull-something anyway. Mostly tuned it out after he kept repeating the ‘greatest hunter’ bit. “Ghost Zone’s Greatest Halloween Decoration’s a more fitting title.”

“For a terrified whelp, you are very chatty.”

“I think I looped around from terrified when I saw how doomed I am.” He was just joking. Totally. He wasn’t goofing around to try and fend off the engulfing panic of never getting home, nope. Absolutely not. He tried to pay attention to the strange ‘skull mountain house thing’, but the fact it reminded him more like a zoo inside wasn’t helping. Massive, monstrous glowing ghosts leering out and snapping as they passed, smaller sorts that didn’t even look up and several empty cages stained green was not calming his nerves. He couldn’t even describe some ghosts, being such a confusing jumble of parts that didn’t remind him of anything. All he could tell was robo-hunter probably didn’t have any willing guests. Unwilling guests that looked far, far more powerful than anything he could dream of trying. He was so, so doomed. To the point that being tossed roughly in a similar cage was almost a relief so he wasn’t right beside the ghost anymore.

First task was struggling free of the no longer glowing net (deactivated somehow? weird.) which wasn’t too hard, but just left him in his freaky ghost form, in a cage, in the middle of who knew where. The Ghost Zone, that’s what they kept calling it. Not Earth. Fantastic! That’s enough to get a C-, but not enough to get him out of this cage. Reaching through the bars was out, the unexpected shock had him rubbing his hand and grumbling to how having some invisible field between the bars was just unfair. At least let him see it before hurting him more. Now what? Grasping that feeling that let him walk through walls wasn’t letting him through the cage floor, just like how the net wouldn’t let him out.  Floating just reminded him of getting dragged here. So that was it. Why did he have to get stupid dying powers? They didn’t even do anything useful!

Stressing out and not finding a way out was an exhausting way to spend a few hours. He kept thinking of new problems, like he didn’t have enough already. When the robot wandered past, he almost grabbed the bars to get closer. “Hey! Screw head!”

The ghost actually looked at him, the stern face looking more confused than anything.

“Yeah you! You know I’m gonna like, starve to death in here, right?” Danny had no idea how he was managing to say something he was very terrified of coming true like it was a joke. “Kind of a waste, don’t ya think?”

“You will be fine, ghost child. Your pleas for freedom won’t fool me.”

“Wanna bet? Maybe we’re so rare because we all starve to death in this dumb ghost world or whatever.” That and there probably weren’t too many people dumb enough to get shocked to...sort of death. “That and like, you’re some freaky machine man, you probably don’t know anything about eating to start with.”

Skulker kept staring at him, as if doing that would suddenly reveal all his secrets. “Well I prefer live specimens, but I suppose I could always do with another rug.”

Oh gross! “Seriously? Do I look like rug material to you?”

“Wall art?”

Yup, he was gagging now. The very idea a ghost would want to do that just made his spine want to shake right out of him with disgust. “I’d be way out of place, all of the other ghosts here look like animals! You’ll just gross all your hunter buddies out.” Maybe if he pretended to be some know it all like Jazz the ghost would...reconsider making him into wall art? Uurk. What was his life that he even needed to think that?

At least that got the metal monster pondering, massive hand scratching at his chin. “I do wonder if your pelt would only show half of your nature.”

“How about we don’t test that and say we did.” He’d seen some of the knives on the way in and did not want any of them near him thank you very much. Not that he had much of a choice- oh man he really, really did not want to learn why Sam hated the fur industry this way. “Pretty sure I’d just die. More. Or something.”

“Oh, but you’ve seen the other pelts on the way in. They’ve still got enough of a spark to not melt to nothing ghost child. I’m not that sloppy.”

Oh so he could be barely aware wall art. Even better!  What would he do, skin him alive or just crush him? Both? “Humans don’t melt.” It was all he could think of blathering out. Don’t think about what the terrifying ghost guy can do Fenton, just don’t.

“True...unfortunately I don’t have another subject to test on.”

Score one for being a unique sort of freaky ghost kid. Maybe. “Soooo how about you just bring me back and rethink the whole uh. Hunting me thing.”

That just got Skulker laughing. “Not a chance whelp.”

“I’m not a whelp! I don’t even fit in with all your monster-things!” It had annoyed him, really. The other ghosts didn’t really...talk? “I’m not some animal!” 

More chuckling, as if amused by a puppy chasing its tail. “Of course you are, with that stench of the human world on you.”

“You think I smell. With what nose, metalhead?”

“None of your business. Not to fear, any ghost here can tell you’re a hybrid. That human body you insist on wearing can be felt even when you’re in a superior form.”

Oh, was this a ghosts thinking humans were animals thing? Or was this a ghosts are kinda racist to different ghosts thing. Was there a difference? He probably should have paid more attention in civics. “Yeah well that ‘human body’ needs food.” He wasn’t even going to touch the idea that he was ‘wearing’ his own body, eeeeugh.

“I’ll figure out a solution to your hybrid failings, child. I won’t let a prize go that easily.”

Greeeeeeat.

[sierraraeck]

Xena (Pt.1)

Aundreya Chambers

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Her attempt to fix things leads Aundreya directly to one of her greatest enemies, and to some of her greatest friends. Story nineteen.

Category: Angst, but it’s basically just like Aundreya working a “case.”

Warnings: Cussing. There is a knife fight and someone gets stabbed.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I know this one is a little Aundreya-centric, but we will get back to the whole squad in a moment. Also, if this means something to you, I want you to think Dauntless from Divergent as far as building and overall vibe.

I got a lead.

I was coming up on the end of month five of being on the run, and I finally had what I needed to put the final nail in the coffin. A location and leverage. But I wasn’t going to be able to do it alone.

“Deen?” I confirmed before he could even say anything.

“Alion-”

“Shh!” I hushed. I didn’t want my name on any cellular transcript or recordings. You could never be too sure. “Are they ready?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. I could hear how giddy he sounded when he asked, “Now?”

“Now.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I’d been away from my ring for far too long. They’d been in good hands with Deen, for sure, but I was itching to get back to them. I’d wanted to for so long, but it wouldn’t benefit anyone. If anything, I’d draw attention to us again, and we’d have to go on a temporary hiatus until things cooled down. And that was bad for business. But I guess so was having your leader away, not like that was the primary reason I was returning. Added bonus, maybe.

I showed up to the bookstore I’d come to adore, sneaking in the back door after dark. I moved soundlessly towards the “Employees Only: Storage” door in the back that opened up into a massive storage unit that we used for training. Normally, meetings are held in the back of a club and bar on the other side of town, but I wanted to make sure this was more discreet and unexpected.

The whole room was pitch black, and besides the one emergency light that faintly glowed above the center mat, I couldn’t see anything. I cautiously approached the light which was over 50 feet away, and the moment I landed right under it, the rest of the lights in the warehouse rapidly turned on. I was blinded for a moment but quickly adjusted, scanning the massive room around me. There were multiple stories in the warehouse, but they all opened up to overlook the first floor, where I was currently standing. Lining the walls and all of the walkways on the four stories up were filled with all of the members of my ring. All just standing there, in dead silence, staring at me. And it made me feel right at home.

I spread my arms out wide and did the most dramatic bow I could. When I looked up, I saw a couple faces smiling, and announced, “I’m back.”

Then all 500 or so of them started cheering. They were clapping and hooting and smiling, and I was laughing and basking in the feeling. Deen and his two new right hands approached me, dramatically clapping.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Deen said, shaking his head.

“Aww, did someone get too comfy on my throne?” I playfully sneered.

“I wouldn’t dare. You know I can do the whole ‘leader’ thing-”

“But it’s just not for you,” I finished, “Trust me, I know.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he arched an eyebrow.

“Speaking as the one coming from prison, I don’t think I’m qualified to judge,” I winked.

“As someone who’s escaped a supermax, I think that gives you more than enough qualification,” he said. He opened his arms and I rolled my eyes with a smile on my face as he pulled me into his infamous bear hug. When he let me go he asked, “You remember Mateo and Niko?”

“The twins?” I asked, looking over at the two of them, “Of course I do!” They were both tall, like 6’4” and they looked like two of the most ethereal people you could imagine. They had rich umber skin, shoulder length corkscrew coils, and brilliant smiles. Nearly everything about them was identical except for their eyes. Niko had almond shaped, black eyes, but Mateo had round eyes, one the same deep brown like his brother, the other a piercing ocean blue. “How could I forget them.”

“Well, they are my new right hands since…” Deen trailed off. Since Corbyn.

“Right, right,” I quickly filled in. They were both a couple years younger than me, 17 at the time they joined. No one knew anything about their background or why they were joining a ring, and they were vastly underestimated. Deen questioned what they could do for us since they weren’t an ‘expert’ in anything, but the first day of training changed that. They were both amazing fighters. They kicked everyone’s ass their age, and the two ages above them. After a week, they were training with everyone at the top, including me. Throughout that time, I got to know the twins very well, and Mateo and I became close. Like, close. He finally kissed me the night I got sent to prison, before everything went down. Of course, I was in there for four years, then came to camp out at the ring once I got out for a little while before going off to the FBI, so we hadn’t really talked about it or revisited it at all. Not like I was going to bring it up. We were great friends before that, and I didn’t really have time to deal with figuring that out.

I extended my hand to Niko, “It’s great to see you both again. How have things been with this guy,” I joked.

Niko accepted my handshake and replied with a smirk, “Oh you know, the usual bullshit. Him pushing us around, doing his dirty work and such.”

“Oh is he now?” I raised an eyebrow at Deen.

“Don’t look at me!” he said, eyes getting wider, “I know I’m a handsome guy, but these two just seem to get more done as the faces of our deals. I still can’t figure out why…”

I snorted, “Yeah, me neither.” Both boys suppressed a smile. I extended my hand out to Mateo, and before I knew it, I was on the ground. Instead of shaking it, he flipped me.

“Damn, okay,” I said, laying on my back and propping myself up on my elbows, “Hello to you, too.”

“You weren’t prepared,” he smirked down at me. Wanna bet?

I hooked my feet around his legs, reached up to grab his arm, and yanked him down to the right side of me. I moved one leg across his body, while the other still hooked the leg closest me, keeping it in place. I reached down with both hands and tugged lightly on that leg. “Snap! I just broke your leg.”

“Oh, sure. I wonder if you still got it in you,” he challenged. In response, I pulled harder, almost to the point of dislocation and he suppressed a wince. I stretched it just a bit farther for my own satisfaction, and he gave me what I wanted: three fast taps on the mat. An eruption of cheers echoed around us, and I almost forgot we still had an audience.

With that ego boost, I held him in that position and wondered, “Anything else you’d like to add?”

“No,” he said, releasing a sigh when I finally let him go. I got up, offing him a hand, which I was surprised he took.

I turned toward the rest of the warehouse and announced, “Thank you all for being here, and an enthusiastic, typical,” I shot Mateo a look, “welcome. We are going to discuss a few final logistics, then present you with the necessities. You are dismissed.” On cue, the lines of people broke up and started moving around. The four of us walked toward a small table in a more secluded corner office.

“Congratulations, brother,” Niko mused as we entered the room, “You’ve waited three years to finally beat her, and you failed.”

“Shut up,” Mateo hissed.

I had to laugh, “You always were one of the most competitive people I’d ever met. Good to see that some things never change. Including which one of us is better,” I winked.

Mateo huffed, “Yeah, and which one of us is still a bitch.”

“Ow, watch it,” I replied, “or maybe I’ll decide to really teach you something.”

“Oh I’m counting on it,” he smirked.

I mirrored the look but got back to business, “So are you all caught up on what’s happening?”

“Yeah, they know,” Deen spoke for the first time in a while, “Of course, they saw you when you came back for a little bit after the first prison break, and I filled them in on your deal with Archer. They know you’ve changed your mind about going through with it, and that Xena and DeLeon are back, and that you plan on killing them, framing Archer, and getting out alive without cuffs on.”

“That’s plan A at least,” I raised my eyebrows. I heard the door to the office push open, and spun around to see who it was.

“So what’s plan B?” a thin girl with long, shiny black hair questioned as she entered the room. I looked over at Deen for an explanation.

“She’s great with strategy and logistical planning,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“She’s new,” Niko jumped in. I slowly nodded.

She extended her hand to me with an introduction. “Roman.”

“Right,” I shook her hand, with a confused look on my face. I knew her. We’d met. Actually, she, Sydney, and I were very tight a long time ago. Once I took over the gang, she and I had a falling out. It was like she just disappeared, and she hated me for starting the ring and getting careless. She didn’t even check on Sydney’s family when she died. Needless to say, I knew who she was, and she knew who I was, so why wasn’t she acting like it? And last time I checked, she actually wasn’t that good at planning, granted I’d been away for a while, but can things change that drastically?

“There are a variety of things that can go wrong and too many variables, that’s why we are going to have to use as many top people as possible to control some of them,” I started. I didn’t really have time to figure out Roman, either.

“Right, like your team, Z and D, Archer, and the meeting place,” Roman graciously pointed out.

I tried to brush her off, “Exactly. Since I found Xena, I already sent her a message about meeting me, and I told her to come alone, but I’ll need someone to keep watch in case DeLeon shows up.”

“What did you tell her you had?” Deen asked.

“The one thing she can’t resist is information on her grandfather and why things ended the way they did. In my message, I let her know that I’d tell her everything I knew, and give her a letter he left for her that night.”

“Is that true?” Deen questioned.

I shrugged, “Mostly.”

“So what are the specifics?” Roman asked.

“I told her to meet me in the alley next to the old gym where I met her. My plan is to go inside so that there can be at least one or two other people in there for backup in case DeLeon shows up, and another outside for the same reason. I would then need people to track Archer and the members of the BAU and report back to Deen,” I offered.

“No way. I’m going to be there,” Deen insisted.

“No. You’ve been able to handle all of this organizational stuff for so long and you’re good at it. They need someone they trust to report back to, and I need someone I trust to keep track of all of the information,” I gave him a stern look, “That’s you.”

“Okay…” Roman looked deep in thought, “And how is he going to get the information to you? And what if one of our people gets caught by the FBI? I think they’ll be pretty good at recognizing if someone is following them.”

“Well logically-” I was cut off.

“You’re never logical,” Roman stated.

“Oh, so you do remember who I am,” I spat.

“How could I not?” she rushed on, dropping a stack of paper on the table with a thud, “Look, logically that is a terrible idea and never gonna work. Even in theory that doesn’t make sense. There are too many loose ends.”

“When have I ever worked logically? I’ve never worked logically and look how that’s worked out for me?” I thought for a moment and followed with, “Actually, that’s a bad example. What I’m trying to say is that what I’ve done has always gotten me out of situations like this. That’s all that matters, and I trust our people to be able to pull this off. Do you not?” I put both hands on the table and pushed aside a chair in my way with my feet, essentially inviting her to take a seat, and a step back, the legs screeching across the floor.

We stared each other down while the three boys exchanged looks. Mateo put his hands up in a surrender and slowly backed toward the door in a dramatic way. “Well while you two clamor around-”

“Hold up. I do not clamor,” I said with air quotes. Mateo just shrugged. “You do remember I am in charge, right? Like, I’m your leader and boss?”

Mateo stopped in his tracks and gave me a small smile, “Yeah, but, you’re a cool ring leader.”

I deadpanned and then turned to Deen and Niko, who just stood there. Niko acted like he didn’t care and Deen was clearly enjoying himself. “You’re all fired.”

“What? Come on! What did we do?” Mateo tried to act all innocent.

“My reputation of being terrifying and untouchable cannot be tainted by you running around calling me cool!” I let my hands fall to my thighs with a slap.

“Well can’t you be terrifying, untouchable, and cool?” Mateo asked with a sheepish smile. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

I glanced over at Deen, who now had a shit-eating grin across his face. “I mean, you are a cool ring leader.”

The corners of my mouth twitched up slightly as I agreed, “I am pretty cool, aren’t I?” I got collective nods around the room, except for Roman who looked like she’d rather die. “Okay, can we please refocus on the task at hand? And, at least for the next couple days, pretend like you actually are terrifying and untouchable like the rest of the world thinks?”

“Sure, I think we can manage that,” Mateo said, all too giddy as he practically bounced back over to the table. Not a good start.

“Jesus christ. You get together the most dangerous, elite criminals the nation has ever seen and they act like eager teenagers who just discovered porn for the first time. This is why we never get anything done,” I huffed, “Anyways-”

“How did we ever get anything done?” Roman asked, and it was the first time her face looked like it had an emotion besides analysis. Kinda reminded me of Hotch.

“You were less cool,” Mateo chimed in. I eyeballed him. “What, am I wrong?”

“Your face is about to be,” I raised my eyebrows.

For the next two hours, we kept going over variations of the plans and solidifying ways we could get out of them. Actually, it mainly consisted of me throwing out ideas, Roman rejecting them, and Deen and Niko occasionally finding ways to get over minor errors with each. Mateo was blissfully unhelpful as usual. Granted, he was the kinda guy that threw out a dumb idea as a joke, and having it actually be something we could use.

“And then we kill them,” I completed, satisfied with our work.

“Wow, Alionth, you really are brutal. I mean, does every plan have to end with death? Haven’t you ever heard ‘kill em with kindness’?” Mateo sarcastically asked, fluttering his eyes at me.

“Yeah, but just outright killing them is so much faster,” I gave him a wicked smile.

“Remind me why we all missed her again?”

I reached out to whack him over the head, “Remind me why I wanted to come back and work with him?”

“You know you love me.” Mateo flashed me that brilliant smile that crinkled his two different colored eyes. We were lucky that he kept the mood positive, even when he was more of a distraction than anything. But his stupid pretty face, and his identical brother’s, was bringing in more clients than ever, so what’re you gonna do?

“Mateo, I will kick you in the back,” I remarked.

“I always knew you liked it rough,” he jeered. I enjoyed our banter, but I was not going to let him make that comment without repercussions. Plus, I like our ‘physical banter’ as well, if you could even call it that. In one move, I swept him off his feet, flipped him over my hip, and he landed with a thud.

“That I do,” I laughed. I knew it was coming, so I let him pull me back to the ground with his legs tangled in mine. He was hovering over me before I could lock him in place, flipping us back over, so I was on top. I pinned him down and I felt him struggle against me for a moment before relenting. I was strong, don’t get me wrong, but he had at least six inches on me along with a healthy amount of muscle mass. He was stronger, and if he really wanted to, could’ve probably gotten out of my grasp, but he didn’t. He let me pin him. “You’ve gotten better. But I don’t ever want you give up like that again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered. I realized we were still in a very precarious position, me sitting on top of him with his hands pinned over his head, and I quickly stood up.

“Mateo, you need to stop,” Niko said, sending him a look only they could understand. They passed eyes for a few seconds, an entire indecipherable conversation no one else was privy to happening before Roman cleared her throat. Niko apologized, “Right, yeah.”

We got back to work and finally had a plan fully put together. “This is going to work,” I said, almost astonished. “I think we’ve covered just about everything.”

“I think you’re right,” Roman agreed. Finally.

“I just need you all to remember that you are also protecting them.”

“You keep saying that, but why should we care about them so much?” Mateo asked me. Deen hit him in the arm. “Sorry.” But his voice was anything but apologetic.

“Just do this for me please,” I pleaded, without trying to sound as desperate as I was.

“Yes of course,” Niko nodded. He was always so level-headed and loyal. Never pushed. Or at least not like his brother.

“And while I’m happy that everyone is here, not everyone can be involved in this. It’s delicate and needs to be handled with absolute perfection and I know not everyone is capable of that,” I acknowledged.

“We know,” it was Deen this time.

“And if it comes to it, you are protecting them first,” I proceeded. I held my breath, waiting for a reaction.

Then I got the one I was expecting. “What? We aren’t going to do that!” Mateo sounded betrayed.

As calmly as I could, I looked him straight in the eyes and commanded, “Yes you are.”

“No, no way! You are our leader. All these people need you,” he said, shaking his head.

“And the rest of the country needs them.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. I am not going to go along with this,” Mateo pushed away from the table and headed toward the door. I’d call him childish, but I knew his reaction came from a good place, and I couldn’t be mad at him for that.

I quickly followed, calling, “Yes you are.”

As he opened the door, I slammed it shut again, preventing him from leaving. He grabbed me by both of my shoulders and held me against the door, the knob digging into my back.

His eyes were wide and frenzied when he hissed, “No.”

“Yes,” I bit, venom in my voice. He flinched back slightly, and I reached up, hooking my hand behind his neck. I pulled him to me and whispered in his ear, “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Or what?”

“You know what.”

“You wouldn’t,” I felt him shake his head, “Not to me. Not to us.”

“I’m telling you Mateo. I wouldn’t want to. It’d hurt me as much as it’d hurt you, but I would. That’s how important this is to me.” Despite my best efforts, my voice cracked. “I need you … and as a part of this operation.”

I could tell he noticed the emotion in my voice by the way he pulled back, looking me in the eyes, his much softer now. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” I released him from my grip, and he let me off the door. I turned my attention back to the group, “We have to make sure not to underestimate Z and D because there’s two of them and they are dangerous, especially together, so we have to be careful. There are plenty of things that can go wrong, and if we have to, we kill them. No matter what.”

Part 2

Series Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[creative-type]

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

Summary: Cora had never been very good at telling the truth AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099165 Word Count: ~2300 AN: Written basically in one sitting, with minimal editing, and without referencing canon for accuracy. Basically, I thought it was a cool title for a Cora fic and needed to get the idea out of my system

.

“Are you happy here?”

Rosinante looked up at his father’s tired, defeated eyes. He heard Doffy screaming from the next room over, drowning out Mother’s desperate attempts to calm him as he demanded they return to Mariejois. Rosi didn’t think his brother would hit her like he sometimes hit him when he didn’t get his way, but he wasn’t sure, and that frightened him.

“Rosi?” Father prompted, reeling the boy’s wandering thoughts back to the question at hand.

Rosinante fidgeted, dropping his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at his father’s earnest expression. There were things he did like about living in the North Blue. He didn’t have to wear a bubble when he was outside, or watch the other children laugh as they hurt their slaves, or hear the hateful words their parents hurled as his mother and father.

But this morning they’d had burnt eggs on burnt toast for breakfast, Mother laughing as she told the tale of how she nearly set the kitchen on fire trying to light the stove. Father’s moustache was crooked and there were bits of tissue paper stuck to his face where he’d cut himself shaving. Secretly Rosinante thought that his brother had a point, that their lives would be so much better if Father would let the family purchase a slave or two. Already his mother had ruined an attempt sewing a hole in his favorite stuffed animal, and Rosi had had to bear the indignity of doing household chores.

Quietly, shamefully, Rosi wasn’t sure he wanted to be a human anymore. He squeezed his eyes closed as Father put his hands on his shoulders and lowered himself down to his knees. A Dragon never knelt, and at that moment Rosi felt like screaming, too.

Instead he was forced to face his father. He saw his hopeful smile, strained to the point of breaking, and the bright shine of tears in his eyes. The grip on Rosinante’s shoulders tightened, fingers digging into tender flesh hard enough to bruise.

“Please, Rosi,” his father begged. “Tell me that you’re happy.”

Rosinante swallowed, and somehow managed to smile in return even as Doffy’s tantrum echoed through the mansion’s empty halls. He knew what he had to say, even if it wasn’t true.

“I am.”

Xxx

“Are you sure about this, Rosinante?”

Rosi swallowed hard. He loved Sengoku like a father, but there were times he hated being in the same room as him. People called him the Buddah, but there was no kindness in his expression now, only sharp lines and steep crevices that displayed both his worry and his displeasure. He had reservations about Rosinante’s mission, that much was obvious. What was less clear was why . Did he not trust his adopted son to do what needed to be done? Was he worried that Doflamingo would appeal to the Celestial blood that ran in his veins? Rosinante tapped his fingers in a sharp staccato beat against the arm of his chair. Or was he simply concerned about his safety?

No, that wasn’t it. Rosi had survived from hell and back. There was no pain, no weapon, that could compare to the terror of his childhood. Under Sengoku’s watchful eye he’d grown strong and clever. Clever enough to match wits with his brother, who was already amassing terrible power out of the North Blue.

Cipher Pol had tried and failed to infiltrate his crew. Mariejois had sent their strongest knights, only for them to return in body bags. Vice Admiral Tsuru had made it her personal mission to wipe the scourge of the Heavenly Demon from the seas, and yet not only did Doflamingo live, but thrive.  

Rosinante had known since Father died that he would be the one to end his brother’s madness.

“I have to do this.”

“He’s your brother,” Sengoku said.

Rosi’s grip on his chair tightened. “He’s a monster.”

Doflamingo, the boy who would kill his own father in cold blood. Doflamingo, the boy who swore his revenge on all the world. Doflamingo, who even before their banishment was cruel and hateful to anyone he considered lesser than himself.

Doffy, the boy who had yellow hair that burned like gold in the sunlight and a laugh colder than the glacial waters of the northern sea. Doffy, the boy with the charisma to draw people to him like flies to honey, only to pluck their wings and destroy their dreams with the crushing weight of his own ambition.

Doffy, his brother, who had kept Rosinante alive with nothing but spite and sheer force of will, who had always insisted on dragging him to greater and greater heights, whether Rosi wanted to accompany him or not.

Sengoku’s eyes narrowed, cold and calculating. He was a man used to making hard and difficult choices. But this was his hardest and most difficult yet, and Rosi wasn’t sure if it was because of any genuine attachment or if he was afraid of losing too valuable a chess piece in a rapidly changing world.

“If all goes well, you’ll be in a position to put an end to Doflamingo permanently. When that time comes, are you sure you’ll be able to pull the trigger?”

Rosinante didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir.”

Xxx

There was no doubting that Doflamingo had greatness in him. It cloaked him alike an aura, some vestige of his celestial halo, inspiring  those around him. A threadbear, overstuffed seat became a throne if Doflamingo sat in it, his pink-feathered coat his royal vestments. Though he mingled with the small people of the world, the dirty and the downtrodden, he could never be mistaken for an ordinary person. The blood of kings ran in his veins, and the insatiable desire of his ambition would not be satisfied until he ruled the heavens and used the earth as his footstool.

Rosi wondered sometimes what would have happened if Sengoku had found Doffy instead. He wasn’t sure the wildness of his brother’s spirit could ever be tamed, but thought, maybe, that it could have been directed toward a noble purpose. The world needed good rulers just as much as it needed good soldiers, but as the years went on it became increasingly clear that neither Donquixte brother was able to adequately fulfill the role they’d been given.

“Corazón,” Doffy said, savoring the taste of the word as it rolled off his tongue. He loved using the name he’d trapped Rosi with, the title that told all the world who it was he belonged to. “How are the plans coming along?”

Rosi pointed to the map he had laid out in front of him as Doffy edged closer. His brother brushed away bits of cigarette ash, chuckling, “You’ll burn my plans to nothing if you aren’t careful.”

Cold sweat beaded at Rosi’s forehead, but he kept each breath even and controlled. It was just a turn of the phrase, nothing to get worked up about. There was no way he could suspect that he’d already alerted Tsuru of their position.

Doflamingo traced his finger over the map, mad grin growing madder. “I want you to look after Law.” He lifted a hand as Rosi stiffened. “I know, I know, you don’t like the kids, but this one’s different. He’s already proven he’s going to stick around, and he doesn’t have time to waste hanging in the background with Baby 5 and Buffalo. He needs to get his hands dirty.”

Rosi tilted his head in silent question.

“More dirty,” Doffy allowed. He tapped a knuckle against the map, where their newest mark was circled in blood-red ink. “Do you feel it, Rosi? His potential?”

It was rare for Doflamingo to ask his insight like this. As much as he was able to decipher Rosi’s looks and quirks with uncanny accuracy, they never had much to say to one another. There was too big a gulf between them to ever be bridged.

Doffy trusted him, else he wouldn’t have made him his right hand man. But he didn’t understand Rosi anymore than Rosinante understood the fury and madness that made his brother want to set the world on fire.

Or maybe they understood too well, while standing on different sides.

But Law...Law’s vision matched Doflamingo’s perfectly. His brother saw that, and wanted to steal the boy’s hate and use it to fuel his own ambition.

“Keep him safe, alright?” Doffy said. “I’m gonna need him around when he gets older.”

Even if he dared speak, Rosinante’s mouth went suddenly dry, constricting his throat and strangling what little air he had out of his lungs. He’d suspected already that Doffy was looking for a way around Law’s time limit, and if he succeeded…

Law was smart and he was fearless and he was angry. Oh, so very angry. Rosi saw the same fire burning in his eyes that shone in Doflamingo’s when they hung on the city wall. Once Doffy sunk his hooks into him he would never let go. Already the boy cared for nothing but the next person he could hurt. If his brother was able to channel those destructive instincts on his enemies then he might just succeed in bringing the world to his knees.

Rosi left Doffy to his maps, pausing only to clasp his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Doflamingo’s smile grew. “I knew I could trust you.”

Of course Rosinante couldn’t answer, so he left in search of Law. The knife wound in his side throbbed with every step. He couldn’t let Doffy have the boy; there was too much at stake. But neither had he succeeded in chasing him away. Doflamingo offered Law the one thing he craved, and like an addict looking for his next fix, Law would jump through any hoops to stay by his side. To learn, to grow, to destroy.

Sengoku would have said it was worth doing the hard thing if it meant keeping the world safe. History said his mentor and father-figure had put those words into practice often enough. But Rosi wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do the hard thing, the right thing. There had to be another option.

Except that was a lie. It was always a lie, and not even Rosi could convince himself it was true.

Xxx

“I finally found it! The Op-Op Fruit!”

Even in the cold, spots of fever bloomed on milk-white skin. Between panting breaths, Law rasped, “The building’s on fire...I heard gunshots, I thought...I thought something happened.”

Black stars danced behind Cora’s eyes. The pain of countless wounds needled the edge of his temper. “Knock it off, this is the fruit that’s going to save your life!”

“Even if I eat it, doesn’t mean it’s gonna save me.”

There wasn’t time to argue, for him or for Law. Cora forced the fruit down Law’s throat before the strength left his legs completely. Blood trickled down his cheek and stained the white snow red. He didn’t care. They’d won, it was over. He could take Law...and run...and be free of Doflamingo forever…

Cora almost laughed. He’d always been a liar, but even so. He usually he stuck to stories that were believable. His pulse thundered impossibly loud in his ears, almost drowning out Law’s hysterics at the sight of his wounds.

But Law...Law needed help. He needed someone to show him there was another way, that he didn’t have to fall into Doffy’s madness. And to do that Cora needed to survive, and his brother needed to be taken somewhere far away where his poison could never hurt anyone every again.

It was ironic, in a way, that just as Cora resolved himself to live that Law unwittingly sealed his doom. Perhaps it was inevitable. After all, People of D were God’s natural enemy. The same blood in Doffy’s veins ran in his, just as terrible, just as evil. Though he’d renounced his title long ago, there was a time that Cora had lived as a god. Delayed as it was, his punishment was just.

For some reason, Cora was okay with that.

“What’s going to happen to you?” Law asked. He settled down into the empty treasure chest, naked fear in his eyes. Cora didn’t think he’d have the strength to stop him if he did something foolish, so he smiled.

“Doffy wants you and the fruit. I’m his blood brother. He might be furious, but he won’t kill me.”

It was worth it to see the hopeful grin spread across his face. For all that he’d suffered, there was still an innocence in Law. He believed what Cora said, because it’s what he wanted to believe, even if it wasn’t true.

“I’m sorry for lying.”

There was a certain magic in those words, a panacea stronger than anything the Op-Op Fruit had to offer. For just a moment every hard line on Law’s face softened, and he looked like a boy again instead of the sick, angry man Doflamingo wanted him to become.

“I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Cora felt Law’s fists pounding against the rough wooden box. He had to hang on just a little bit longer now, and it would all be over. The sting of regret hurt more than the bullet wounds, guilt crushing him more than the blows of the Doflamingo Family. He was a good for nothing, sorry klutz of a man who made a disaster out of everything he touched. Even now, with everything all on the line, he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

“I didn’t want you to hate me.”

The darkness was coming in, enveloping him like the sable feathers of his cloak. His arms too cold and heavy to even lift his gun, but still he hung on. For Law’s sake, he would stave off Death for as long as he could.  

His breathing slowed, eyes too heavy to keep open. Time was running out. He’d told so many lies, he could only hope that Law would believe him when for once he spoke the truth.

“I love you.”

[stanielman]

Stranger Things Season 4 ~Predictions~

These are things that I could see happening/think would be really cool if they happened.

- I guess they’re staying with the whole story of the Russians opening the Upside Down and I’d assume Hopper is now there (for storytelling reasons) because that’s where they’re trying to open a new gate/do the research to open a new gate

- Back in Hawkins, I think that the party would be pretty disbanded :(

- They’re in high school and have kind of all gone off to do their own things (Dustin being a theatre/nerdy kid, Lucas getting into sports, I don’t know about Max, and Mike would continue to be himself because he’s the leader of the group and we already saw that he holds onto things in season two when he was still attached to El)

- But! They’re all getting back together to go visit Will and El for Christmas (season 4 takes place over Christmas, right?)

- I really hope the Byers moved to Maine because that’s where Bob wanted to move so I’m just going to say they moved to Maine

- Since Billy died, we have room for one new character to have a main title (assuming that Steve, Robin, and Erica don’t get removed from their main character titles, but we’ll talk later about how they could be in the plot) and I think it should be Will’s ~love interest~

- I don’t care if they are already dating and Will is trying to figure out how to tell the party and it gets extra hard when they’re acting all awkward, or if it’s obvious that they both like each other and they have a big confession right before the final battle, but Will is gay and gets a fricken boyfriend because I say so

- So Mike, Max, Lucas, and Dustin are going to Maine for Christmas and Nancy’s going to bring them (to see Jonathan) and I think that the only other person joining the trip is going to be Karen Wheeler. She’s been a main character since season one and is the only one that doesn’t know about the Upside Down and it’s about time she learns (and gets an actual storyline). Let’s just continue the story in season three of her being a bit fed up and tired with Ted so she’s going to get out of the house for what she thinks will be a fun trip

- But oh ho ho let’s get the actual plot started

- Remember how the Russians are trying to open the gate and are learning new information? Well they learn about El and (to connect the Maine gang with Hopper and the villains in Russia) they kidnap her

- Maybe Hopper told them about her because he wants to use her as a way to draw Joyce to Russia to save him, or maybe they just learned that she existed and went to go find her. Maybe Brenner’s alive. I don’t know. 

- And I also feel like El would still not have her powers and wouldn’t get them back until the final battle for ~suspense~ and a haha funny moment that the Russians kidnapped her for nothing (maybe they also kidnap other kids with powers like Kali!!) 

- Also, it’d be cool if Will had powers....

- So El is in Russia and Joyce needs to go get her back and tells Jonathan and Nancy to stay with the kids and takes Karen on a fun girls’ trip to Russia (fun!)

- But of course the kids don’t want to sit around and do nothing (and maybe Will senses the upside down and knows El’s in trouble?). Jonathan and Nancy always have their own subplot going on and I’d imagine that’d still happen but I don’t have the energy to predict what it could be

- So this is where Steve and Robin come in (I have no idea how to get Erica involved, but maybe her, Suzie, and Murray can all have just a fun little cameo). The kids need a ride to Russia to help El so they call them up to bring them!

- I couldn’t care less what little fights lead up to the final one. So let’s talk about death

- Now, every season there is one new character that is so sweet and well meaning that dies. And we have only mentioned one new character: Will’s love interest

- PICTURE IT: They admit their feelings for each other before the final battle and kiss (everyone, especially Robin, being proud while watching on the sidelines) and then Will has to watch his new love interest die in front of him in a situation that HE got him into

- And we are long due for the death of a main character

- It’s obviously not Hopper. They tried and it would be ridiculous if they dragged us through that artificial heartbreak in season three once again

- And I think the Byers are safe. Joyce has watched two (nearly three if you count Will) of her loved ones die in front of her so why would they play that card again with one of her kids? And the fans would literally kill the Duffers if they killed Will (and that would honestly make the entire series pointless. The inciting incident was Will going missing and you’re going to say that we went through all of that only for him to die in the end????)

- Jonathan, Nancy, Dustin, Max, Lucas, and Robin’s deaths wouldn’t be very interesting or have much to advance the plot. If they want Avengers Endgame deaths, then these guys are open for side deaths that’ll make us cry on the way to the Big Death, but be alright with in the end

- And Steve would be on that list but he’s such a fan favorite and has had quite the redemption. I could see him sacrificing himself for the kids though (and then Dustin crying over his body with Robin and Nancy in the background!)

- The death needs to be something that really tears our hearts out but we learn to respect. So we turn to Mileven. If Mike were to die, I think it’d be like a Steve death with self sacrifice that makes the group mold together to finally defeat the monster for good because he brought them all together (and Karen just learned about the upside down and what Mike has been fighting and is so worried for him to have to fight this monster again and then has to watch him die). And El would bring the story round in such a good way. She opened the gate and started this whole mess and so her death, in turn, ends it

- But they should not pull a Romeo and Juliet and have Mike and El both die.

That’s it. Those are all my thoughts. Have a great day.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: A bit of angst

A/N: Sort of trucking along, now into chapter 4, which gets us into the meat of this whole story, so I guess this sorta qualifies as a slow burn?  Not sure.  Anyway, enjoy!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld , @lilkermit14 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 2 – Well, It’s Valuable for Starters

Coral Gables Restaurant sits right on the banks of the Kalamazoo River, serving as the perfect backdrop to any lunch or dinner date.  It was Robert’s favorite place to eat and the whole staff knew him.  So, lunch dates for the two history buffs could last hours and no one would say anything to them.

Long after the lunch plates had been taken away, Robert nursed his beer and Rosemary leaned back in her chair, letting the early summer sun warm her skin.  As she sat there with her eyes closed, Robert let himself just watched her.  She was tall with a brunette pixie cut – the only hair style he’s ever seen her sport – and he noted there was greyer hair than when they first met and finer lines on the youthful face.

She took up a lot of space with her personality and that’s what he loved best about her.  Of all the people Robert called his friends, none were close to him like she was. When he met her not long after she started at the museum and it was an almost instant rapport.

He never had children of his own, never even gotten married.  But something about Rosemary drew him to her and he felt this love for her like he hadn’t ever felt for anyone else in his nearly seventy-two years.  When the doctor gave him the prognosis, he realized the sadness that had washed over him wasn’t about his death but the fact that he had someone he was leaving behind. It both hurt and consoled him.  He wasn’t going to be alone.

“Rosie.”  His voice was soft, but she still heard him and opened her eyes.  He smiled at her and she sat up and nodded, pulling her chair closer so she was more comfortable to chat.  The waitress appeared with refills for Rosemary’s lemonade and another beer for Robert.  They stayed quiet until she left.  When they were alone again, she raised her eyebrow and gestured for him to continue.

“If there are things in those boxes that you can sell for the museum, go for it.  There are a few I want the museum to have and one item it needs to take.”

“Well, I doubt I’ll take anything that will cause me extra work, but we can draw up the deed of gift on the other items as normal.  I already have my eye on a few things, which are probably among what you are already giving us.”  He nodded. “What’s the item you want us to take for sure?”

“The Cornucopia.”  Her eyebrow raised in confusion at the comment.  “It’s a priceless art piece, a friend of mine valued it at three-quarters of a million dollars. On the low end of things.”

“WHAT?” Rosemary’s jaw dropped.  Holy shit.

“I know, I was surprised it valued so high as well.  I bought it at an antique shop in Chicago years ago and given how valuable it is, I want the museum to have it.”

“Uh, hell yeah!”  Rosemary’s eyes began to gleam with glee and Robert laughed.  He knew she was thinking of Fred and he was pleased he could help her get a leg up on the man.  While Breyers had never been anything but courteous towards the storeowner, there was an underlying hostility to the curator’s words and actions.  Something about the greedy curator never sat well with Robert and he shared in Rosemary’s dislike of him.  

“When we head back to the house after lunch, we’ll talk more.”  The two sat back and grinned at each other.

---***---

“But, ma’am. . . Ma’am. . .” Agent Horacio paused, the murderous look on their face not even showing up in their voice.  “Ma’am, I get what you are saying.  I’m asking you to set up a meeting with me to go over the case. Yes, we reopened it.  Yes, we’re working on it.  Now if you would just. . .”

The ever-patient voice of the agent faded into the background as Carmichael skirted the table with a handful of photos, a small smirk on her face. She walked up next to Pike as they filled the evidence board with the last of the pictures from the case files.  A second and third board were set up on the other side of the room, allowing the team to make further critical connections to the cases they had so recently linked together.

They worked quietly for a bit, Carmichael subtly shooting glances at Pike, whose brow was furrowed in concentration.  Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she turned to look at her partner.

“Okay, spill.  How did the date go with Lucy in Accounting?” Her voice dropped to a whisper belying the eager look on her face.  Pike grimaced at the question as he pressed on the last of the push pins.

“There was no date. She stood me up.”  Her loud gasp caused a few of their team to look their way, but she ignored them, giving Pike a look to continue.  “I called twice, and she never answered.  Never even showed up to the date itself.  I don’t think I can go back to Bobby’s anymore.  Lindsey is starting to feel sorry for me.”

“Hell, I feel sorry for you, Pike.  That’s the third date you’ve been stood up on in, what? Two months?” Carmichael’s voice softened.  The poor man was having a rough time of it, what with Lisbon breaking his heart, his divorce before that, three failed short-term relationships after he came to D.C., and now this series of no-show dates over the last year.  She frowned and laid a hand on his wrist, which had stilled on the last pin as his words died on his tongue.

He didn’t look at her and she could feel him stiffen underneath her touch. He pushed down his growing frustration at the situation and turned to smile at her, the grin not coming close to reaching his eyes.  His shoulders squared up as if to say the conversation was done.  She had known the man for six years and just wanted him to be happy, but for the moment, she gave him a small smile to help him with his charade.

“It’s okay Carmichael, maybe I’m just not meant for a relationship.” His voice sounded almost sad at the tone and she bowed her head.

“I don’t think that’s true, Marcus.”

“Yeah, well the universe is working hard to tell me that I’m meant to be single. I should be listening instead of fighting it.”  He sighed and turned away, walking out of the room before anyone could comment on the large frown that had formed on his face.  She looked after him, a defeated look in her eyes.  No one loved as hard and as loyal as him, he deserved the world. She knew that the right person for him was out there, but she couldn’t understand why Pike hadn’t crossed paths with his soulmate yet.  

She turned back to the board, picking up the marker to begin labeling the photos they had posted.  While she wrote, she silently prayed to the universe that her partner’s heart found its home sooner rather than later.

-*-

Pike looked at himself in the mirror, droplets of water still on his skin and the strands of hair framing his face were damp.  Splashing water on his face helped cool down his skin, but Carmichael’s words of sympathy had stung, even if she meant well, and he had to leave the room before he got upset even more.  As he leaned against the sink, he bowed his head and took a few deep breaths. The small moment of zen from earlier in the day had faded and the headache had returned.

It was known that the agent wore his heart on his sleeve, that he was loyal and generous to a fault.  Most of his colleagues loved him for it and it inspired loyalty from those who worked under him.  But none of that seemed to translate into anything romantically successful.  At this point, he was certain that he was a running joke throughout D.C. and that women agreed to a date to see how long he’d wait at his favorite diner for someone to show up.

Last night, Lindsey comped his dinner because she just couldn’t take the defeated slump to the man’s shoulders one more time.  She even went home and hugged her wife, hoping a little of her joviality would seep into her bones.  If Pike knew that, he would have bitterly laughed at the idea that he can help other people love harder, he just couldn’t get people to love him back.

After letting the dark thoughts swirl through his brain for a little longer, he stood up straight and glanced into the mirror.  He wiped his face one more time and straightened his tie. Without looking back at his reflection, Marcus Pike vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to let anyone in anymore. He was here to catch art thieves and that’s what he was going to do.

He just prayed the yearning in his heart heard the declaration, too.

---***---

Rosemary huffed as she staggered up the walkway to the front door of the museum with the heavy box in her arms.  She cursed herself for thinking that she could carry such an awkward and heavy load by herself, but she was a stubborn mule and was determined to get it all done in one trip.  She sighed when she reached the top of the short staircase.

She reached out and kicked the frame of the door into the building knowing that their long-time volunteer, Bob, was at the front desk.  There was something about him that grated against Rosemary and if truth be told, he was a bad volunteer, but he was the only reliable one and so she had to put up with him and his nonsense.

She realized with a start that she’d been standing there for several minutes, and no one had come to the door.  She peeped through the glass and saw Bob sitting there, looking her way. Grimacing as she shifted the box, she kicked the door again, harder this time.

And he still didn’t move.

With a low growl, Rosemary shifted around and pressed her butt against the handicap button on the wall and with a sigh of relief, she walked through the now open door.  While the June day wasn’t particularly hot, the sun was still warm and the physical activity overheated her.  The cool air of the lobby felt like kisses of heaven on her skin and she slightly closed her eyes at the sensation.  When she opened them, she looked directly at the man in front of her.

“Bob, did you see me kicking the door?”

“Yep.”

“So why didn’t you come open it for me, you clearly saw my hands were full.”

“Kicking is rude.”  The man’s rheumy eyes stared at her and it took two deep breaths to ensure Rosemary wasn’t going to start screaming.  She gave him a tightened smile instead and she walked over to the elevator. “Rosemary, the elevator is for handicap people, you’re not handicapped.”

“Bob, the elevator is for everyone.  Goodbye!”  She entered the small space and leaned against the wall.  We need him, we need him, we need him, she chanted to herself, nothing convincing her that it was true.  The ride to the third floor was a short one, but the heavy box made it seem longer.  When the doors opened, she took a left down to the staff offices and her workspace.

She did her best to carefully set the box down on the bench, but she grimaced as she heard rattling inside.  When it didn’t sound like anything broke, she heaved a sigh of relief. She turned her head as she heard footsteps from the hallway and within moments, Helen enter the room.

“How did it go?”  She had a small smile on her face, coming closer to the work bench

“Not bad, I took one big box of stuff – good stuff, too.”  The curator grinned and Helen grinned back, curiosity all over her face.

“Nothing ugly?”

“God no.  As my grams liked to say, ‘God don’t like ugly.’”  She lifted the lid off the box and suddenly Rosemary screamed, scaring Helen and causing her to scream, too.  The latter jumped back towards the door, unsure of what was happening.  The sounds of the two women yelling echoed in the room until the scream Rosemary let out evolved into a laugh, tinged with adrenaline. “FUCKING ROBERT!”

“WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?”  Helen was now on edge and creeping back closer to the work bench, still wary. Rosemary reached into the box and lifted out the stuff monkey she passed over earlier.  Helen recoiled at the sight.

“I thought you said you didn’t bring back anything ugly!”

“I didn’t!  He must have put it in here after I told him it was worthy of the dumpster.”  The laughter continued as she looked at the stuffed animal.  Finally, she sighed and set the monkey down on the bench.

“You’re not putting it in the collections are you?”  The director still looked at the item with wariness.  It was truly ugly with its almost realistic eyes. She shuttered before looking away.

“No, but I’m going to keep it, though.  He’d probably make a better watch dog than Banana.”  Looking around, Rosemary turned to her boss.  “Speaking of which, where is that dog of mine?”

“He’s in your office, conked out on the couch and snoring away.”

“See?!  I need the monkey now.  My own dog, of whom I am his whole world, didn’t even come hither at my screams.  I am abandoned and unloved.”  Rosemary ended her dramatic comment on a sigh, her hand against her forehead.  The two women began to laugh again.

“By the way, please for the love of all that is holy, find someone to replace Bob at the front desk.  He watched me kick the door to get in and refused to get up.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yeah, ‘kicking is rude.’”  Rosemary mimicked the old man’s gravelly voice and rolled her eyes. Helen patted her shoulder and said she’d chat with Bob about it, but the curator didn’t have much faith in the forth-coming conversation.  The director left the room and Rosemary dove back into the box to pull out the rest of her treasures.

---***---

“Here is the paperwork on the history of The Cornucopia. Please promise me that you’ll list this as a restricted item.”  Robert sat down, a file folder in his hand.  “I know better than to make outrageous demands, but I want it in the paperwork that this item cannot be loaned out, it cannot be displayed, and it is to remain the collections for the rest of the museum’s existence.  I don’t even want it announced that you have the piece.”

He took a breath and Rosemary’s eyebrows furrowed.  He hadn’t been kidding when he said he had restrictions on the item.  He continued.

“The piece is valuable; I don’t want the museum becoming a target for it. I’m giving it to you because I know you’ll protect it.”  Rosemary nodded as she thumbed through the file, skimming the history of the sculpture. She looked up at him.

“Let me write up the deeds for you and we’ll note everything you want me to list in terms of restrictions.”  She got up and went to her computer set up on the table.  For the next hour, she sat asking Robert questions and filling out the forms, using the printer to create physical copies. After she was done, she sat back.

“We’ll take good care of it.  I promise.”

---***---

The next day, Rosemary sat at her desk, imputing the new collection pieces into PastPerfect, transcribing notes she had scribbled in her binder.   Most of the pieces she had taken were worth it; besides the map, she took a few pieces of pottery from a celebrated local artist, a couple of prints that dated back to the Fort’s early years, seven quilts, and several history books.  And of course, The Cornucopia.

She pulled the file out for the sculpture and sat back in her chair. After opening the folder, she began to read the files she had skimmed earlier.  The more she read the appraiser’s history more her eyebrows crawled up her forehead.

The Cornucopia was created for Russian Tsar Nicolas II by renown Ukrainian artists Artem Chumak.  The bronze sculpture was inlaid with rubies, sapphires, yellow diamonds, jade, pearls, and opals, most mined from around the Russian Empire.  Ukraine historically has been known as the breadbasket of Russia and the piece was commissioned by the Ukrainian government as a gift to Nicolas upon his marriage to Princess Alexandra of Hess.  It’s value at the time of creation was $250,000 USD.

It is known that Dowager Empress Maria took the piece, along with several other valuable items after the fall of the Empire and she sold it to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg in 1920, who in turn loaned it to the country’s National Museum of History and Art the following year. The museum returned it to the family during World War II to protect it from the advancing German army.  It was again loaned to the museum for another twenty years before the family chose to cease ownership.

The piece was then sold via Sotheby’s Auction House in 1965 to a private collector in the U.S. and has remained in private ownership since then.  Because of its history and the materials used, the value of The Cornucopia is approximately $750,000 for insurance purposes, but on the auction block, could fetch upwards to . . .

“Three million dollars?!”  Rosemary shrieked, her feet dropping to the floor as she sat up.  She looked at the sculpture sitting on her worktable and her face broke out in a grin.  Oh, ho ho ho, she really got the leg up on Fred Breyers this time.  This was the best gift that Robert could have ever given her.

[that-banana-headed-bovine]

Season 2 Shenanigans

AHEYYY sO I went on a giant Knight Rider binge the last few days, and I've FINALLY seen all of Season 2!!  Big thank you to @trust-doesnt-oxidize who watched with me and stayed up absurdly late because I wanted to see Garthe before I went to bed AIDBWJFNEM

I just wanted to post a quick reaction to all of the episodes, spoiler warning activated!

Goliath Parts 1 & 2

I LOVE MY DOOFY VILLAIN SON. K.I.T.T. is HILARIOUS, I love his dynamic with Goliath, as is evident by my handle oops- I hate how Season 2 starts with my son almost dying tho, almost had a heart attack tyvm! This is back before I knew anything about the direction of the rest of the series so I was legitimately in shock lmbo- Moustache Michael is a gem tho I love him. I SURE HOPE HE STAYS A DUMB VILLAIN WHO'S JUST REALLY SILLY TO WATCH. SURE HOPE THEY DON'T TAKE HIM TOO SERIOUSLY.

Brother's Keeper - Blind Spot

I- forgot that these episodes existed until I looked at the episode list for this, soooo...

I should really not be lazy and look up an episode summary and try to remember what I thought of these but the problem is that I am in fact going to be lazy because this post is already taking so long

Return to Cadiz

This episode is so,,, frustrating.  Not the plot or the format or anything like that, nono... I mean how they essentially introduced April.  Like, okay, I know that she has been here since the beginning of Season 2, but she hadn’t really said much up until now.  This was where we really got to know who she would be, and, uh... After this episode, I absolutely hated her.  Despised even.  She forces my son to go drive on the same ocean on the same beach where Karr DIED without any testing beforehand AND is chastising Michael in a flirtatious way.  The heCK is this woman?!  WHERE’S MY BONNIE???!!!  I was so mad at her you guys I.  But the thing is, I don’t hate April, not by a long shot.  In some ways, the rest of Season 2 does a better job giving her a character than all of Season 1 did for Bonnie!  I really enjoyed April and wish that both could have stayed.  BUT THIS EPISODE makes her SO HATEABLE and I just ugh.

also I tried to watch this a long time before I got to and after seeing the intro and not knowing the title of K.I.T.T. vs. K.A.R.R. at that point in time, I thought Karr was gonna come back based on all the panoramic shots of the underwater and I am so sad that he didn’t so oops this episode gets my wrath a bit

K.I.T.T. the Cat

0/10 there are no cats.  False advertising.

Seriously tho this episode was a pretty run of the mill episode.  The best part of the episode was Kitt, because it always is, but seriously that guy with the hedges was amazing- I GOT THE GAG BY THE THIRD TIME IT HAPPENED BUT THE FIRST TIME HE GOT STUCK IN THE TREE OH MY GOSH I WAS DY I N G- Also the fact that Kitt messed him up again trying to apologize is so sad yet funny ahosihdfiohasdf

Custom K.I.T.T.

APRIL GET THAT STUPID DECAL OFF HIM OH MY G O S H-

Somehow her 2-d design ideas looked almost worse than the actual thing and I thought the actual thing looked like a that default sticker decal that you get on a Hotwheels car.  I’msorryI’mnottryingtoroastanyartistsIjust I why there’s so much potential with giving Kitt decals :(

Seriously I want to use my drawing software to draw fire on Kitt at some point because it could be done so cool and that ain’t it chief.  I’m probably not going to be too great at it either since I don’t do backgrounds nearly enough and fire would be a background element for the most part but I could at least alter the colors ; m ;  OR LIGHTNING OH MY GOSH AAA LIGHTNING WOULD BE SO COO L ON HIM-  anyway it needed so much more red- and it was so asymmetrical too aHHHH-

I.  I’m fine it’s fine I’m fine it’s fi-

I don’t even know why Kitt needed a decal anyway, the other cars didn’t have to have decals to be considered custom, surely his dash alone could have done it-

ANYWAY

This ep was so WEIRD at times oh my gosh.  What was that series of insults the two ladies spat at each other?  Like the one just complimented her eyeshadow aggressively and the other one accused her of wearing “training bras” or something like whAT EXCU S E ME What is this episode?!  Kitt was so upset about the decal too :[

Soul Survivor

OH MY GOSH IT’S CUTE IT’S SO CUTE YOU GUYS-

I was recalling @knight-rider-fan-2000‘s theory about this episode (plz go check them out btw aaaa), and after watching it I totally agree.  Michael was especially kind in this episode, and he seems to be overall a more supportive mentor for Kitt this season, starting with Soul Survivor and being pretty consistent throughout.  I love their new dynamic so much- There’s definitely still episodes and moments where he’s closer to Season 1 Michael, but Season 2 Michael is a far superior human being in my opinion.

KITT’S SO ADORABLE LIL TINY CPU OH MY G O S H YOU’RE TELLING ME OUR SON IS ACTUALLY T H A T SMALL AAAAA

Michael really is so sweet in this oh my gosh, that whole arc where Kitt is his partner no matter what and that the car isn’t what made Kitt-- AW!!!!  ADORABLE!  Kitt being so unsure that he repeatedly asks Michael how it feels to see the Knight 2000 without him in it or fusses about his limited functionality as Michael patiently reassures him again and again that he’s wanted just the way he is, I just- Feelings.

One thing that hit me as funny though is when Michael finds Kitt’s CPU in the garage and the trash can is just like PULSATING and then he like yells at it like “tAlK tO mE kItT” and Kitt’s jus sitting there as a box of colored lights like “...”

I can just imagine a cut scene where Kitt’s like, “Oh and by the way Michael, if I could have said something I would have done so LONG before you started asking me to.  Believe it or not, I don’t like being in a trash can.”

“You Dingaling.”

Also Michael and his whole “I’m an honest man you can trust me listen I’ll give you a small TV just like this one” and then he proceeded to not do that.  Hmm.

Anyway, yeah, it doesn’t get any cuter than this.  The only thing that would have been better is if Adrianne didn’t exist.  Good thing she’s gone now~!

Ring of Fire

THIS IS SO TRIPPY THIS EPISODE IS SO TRIPPY

I would say that I hate Michael trying to get Kitt to subject himself to testing if he can withstand insane levels of heat.  I would say that if April did not then walk in and karma the crap out of him.  Gosh I loved it.  How he immediately was like whAT NOOO YOU WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE DO THAT and Kitt’s just like :/

dang hypocrite, Michael my feelings towards you are so complicated sometimes

anyway

So. Many. Dogs.  I usually love seeing Kitt interact with dogs but this started to get unsettling, I can’t blame him for not loving 6 different dogs all swarming him at once whAT- Have they nothing better to do than to jump on my son.  What the heck language were those banjo players singing in?  Was it a language or was it just gibberish keyboard spam that accidentally made it to the final script AOSHDIAOHSD

This whole swamp setting is really unique to this episode, and part of me really does commend the chance they took by switching up settings.  It’s almost always a small town on desert roads.  The way this all happened though was??? What?

I think the scriptwriters forgot that Return to Cadiz exists because Kitt got so much water damage AHSIDHAOISDH- I know April said the system was damaged but surely it would have minimized this a little bit.  Also did literally anything change by the end of this episode?  We didn’t see the guy get arrested, did we?  And the girl decided to stay living out in the swamp forest thing.  The only thing is that she, like, conquered her fear or something?  Even though she still isn’t acting in that direction?

This episode didn’t actually d o anything did it LOL

alsowhatevenwasthatexplosion

It’s not a bad episode though, just really bizarre.

Knightmares

YOU KNOW WHAT I SAID ABOUT IT NOT GETTING ANY CUTER?

I WAS WRONG.

THIS EPISODE this episode THIS EPISODE.  TOP TWO MATERIAL?  MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK.  TDR will always be my fav until the end of time I’m pretty sure because I don’t think another episode will get me to ugly sob like that (aLTHOUGH I AM MEGA HYPE HERE BECAUSE I WATCHED KvK AND IT WAS GOOD ALSO BUT WE’LL GET TO TH A T LATER) but in terms of sheer adorable buddies happiness this is the winner by all accounts.  I really like how they portray Michael Long, and I genuinely think the arc here has an impact on the rest of the season in terms of how Michael treats Kitt.

I love how Michael had told Kitt a long time ago how they were partners, like how he used to have a partner when he was a police officer, and how now when Long is so confused about everything everyone is trying to tell him, Kitt chooses this specific word to help introduce himself, and everything feels a bit more grounded for Long.  I love how Long immediately revolts against the way Devon and April try to tell him he’s wrong about who he is currently, which is, despite good intentions, the opposite of what he needs.  I love how Kitt then swoops in behind him and decides to treat Michael Long like a WHOLE NEW PERSON, one who Kitt tries to get to know.  I love how Long recognizes just how hard Kitt is trying and genuinely opens up to him.  I love how he never reverts to being mean or rude to Kitt after he gets in the car the second time, NOT EVEN ONE sarcastic comment.  How he never calls him a computer again after Kitt asks him not to, how he compliments his new partner left and right, how despite having no clue who Knight is he really wants to be that person for Kitt, because Kitt seems sincere and pretty great.  I adore that bit where Kitt gently, lovingly lists traits good and bad about Knight and how Long can finally connect to this other version of himself.

“One more thing about Michael Knight.”

“What’s that?”

“I was extremely fond of him”

I love how Long starts saying “Good work, Kitt” after they complete parts of their mission and how Knight does not stop this for the rest of the season, even after he regains his memory.  I love so much about this and could frankly talk about it even more than this but this is a brief summary so.  So yeah, we’re moving on ;W;

Silent Knight

It’s funny so.  I didn’t realize that Knight Rider had done any Christmas specials.  I knew about the Halloween specials, but I didn’t realize the Christmas special existed.  And so I was laughing at how funnee I was while I was like “SILENT KNIGHT HOLY KNIGHT ALL IS COME-” and then that’s exactly what the pun was meant to be.  they done bamboozled me.

ANYWAY THIS MIGHT BE THE STRANGEST CHRISTMAS SPECIAL TO EVER EXIST EVER.

They kept mentioning the Christmas banquet thing to make it mildly related to the season but then it wasn’t, it really wasn’t, it all revolved around clowns.  There was.  There was a Santa I guess.  Albeit a bank robber Santa--

And the kid is juuust obnoxious at first, I love how Kitt absolutely hates him immediately for some reason even though Kitt usually doesn’t hate people unless they do something really bad, but it feels so deserved because the kid is a jeeerk.  Maybe it’s because the kid accused him of endangering human life and that Hurt?

Kid: Just let me drive and I’ll throw away this dumb clock thing

Michael: No

Kitt: YES

Michael: W H A T ?!

Kitt: YES

Michael: ugh whatever

I was kind of expecting Kitt to pull some sort of shenanigans while the kid was driving as payback for whatever he absolutely despised him for, but Kitt was actually just really sweet and gave him a bit of freedom until he started endangering himself and then helped him get back into control.  Very wholesome.

AND the end was CUTE though, like the boy who had previously been a jerk going over and patting Kitt and being just sincerely nice to him ;w; wholesome

A Knight in Shining Armor

Gosh I always forget what this episode is about because the title is so loosely related LOL

The dynamic with Michael and the girl of the week was actually really cute and chemistry was not entirely nonexistant, so that’s a nice change from some of these that come out of nowhere.  Her arc was actually pretty sweet, how she resented technology because she wanted to be loved and cared about, how she thought computers were incapable of doing that until she talked to Kitt...

And the cave was prebby.

But why couldn’t she understand that her DAD was in PRISON.

“Why didn’t he ever come to see me?” “Because he was in Jail.” “oh.  But why didn’t he call???”

Diamonds Aren't a Girl's Best Friend

SOMEONE

AHAHA

SOMEONE CALLED MICHAEL

AHAHA

BERNIE CALLED HIM A DINGALING. Speaking of Bernie, all I could think this whole episode was

White-Line Warriors

LONG-LEGGED PUNK-

Seriously idk what this season’s love affair with the baddies picking on Michael but I love it.

Honestly the twist of this episode was really interesting, I still don’t fully get how the baddies’ plan comes together though.  So the song plays on the radio and the police go to investigate the drag racers and the crims are IMMEDIATELY ready?  okay then.

Radio announcer Kitt tho.  That is blessed.

I want Radio Announcer Kitt.  Then again, I just want more Kitt in general so.

Race for Life

INHALE

Y’ALL ARE REAAALLY TRYING TO MAKE ME DETHRONE KNIGHTMARES AS THE CUTEST, AREN’T YOU?

Well ha, joke’s on you episode, you’re getting docked points for only giving Kitt and Becky two interactions.  And for making the donor obnoxious for most of the episode (although that end scene was pretty adorable).  So, okay, second cutest.

THE WAY KITT WAVED I-

HE IS SO CUTE

he is so cute.

Devon was really sweet this episode, not gonna lie.  I’m not sure if I’ve said it on this blog before, but I had strong dislike for Devon after Season 1.  I can explain that later if anyone wants, I’d be perfectly willing to compare the two seasons, but Season 2 Devon is pretty alright.  He doesn’t have much of a presence, but when he does, he’s kind.  I’m assuming he let Becky win at checkers, in which case uh, aW?!  Devon that’s cute.

KITT TRYING TO TEACH THE TEN YEAR OLD CHESS AHSIODHOAISD I LOVE YOU BUDDY

Also, I feel like this is the episode April really became her own character, separate from Cadiz.  She’d kind of just been a slightly perkier Bonnie, but now we get to see her family, her concerns... And April’s a pretty good character.

OH AND THE WHOLE “Kitt is family” ARC IS THE SWEETEST THING ASHDHAOSDohIAD

“Julio, meet Kitt.  He’s part of the family”

“Thank you, Michael.”

MY.  HEART.

Speed Demons

Okay so.  This is another one of those episodes where very little seemed to change by the end of the episode.  The guy who was actually in danger quit motorcycling anyway soooo...  The episode plot itself isn’t what I feel like talking about.

What was WITH that one announcer guy?  Were we meant to like him or not???  First he tries to Kick the Kitt and Kitt’s like :/ whatever

and then he comes back and they start to have like, a deep conversation, and he lovingly pats the hood before walking away.  And we’re like AWWW OKAY THIS GUY IS NOT TO BAD

AND THEN he asks Kitt to talk for someone and Kitt’s like “...” and the guy riots.  Why did Kitt not talk for him and why did the guy go so absolutely bonkers when he didn’t?  Were the cameras rolling and I just didn’t realize?  And then we kind of hate the guy again because he once again absolutely went ballistic at Kitt.  “That’s Showbiz.”

But then the dynamic with that coworker keeps coming up, and yeah, I guess she does seem a bit annoying.  But she also seems like a potential lady of the week and a potential protagonist.  So when she gets splashed with mud or whatever that was and the guys all like :D

What are we meant to be feeling?

Are we meant to feel bad for her or happy for him?

Because I just felt confused.

Goliath Returns 1 & 2

GOSH DARNIT ADRIANNE IS BACK

ALSO I-I-I I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT YOU BEING A DOOFY AND STUPID VILLAIN JUST P L E A S E STOP ; M ;

SERIOUSLY WHEN DID GARTHE TURN FULL PSYCHOPATH-

THE FEELING I GOT REMINDED ME OF WATCHING THE SHERLOCK FINALE.  S H E R L O C K  F I N A L E.

Sigh, I should have known he’d gone off the deep end when he walked into a hot tub with jeans on.

I will forever be mad at some versions coughincludingtheoneIwaswatchingoncough for cutting out the fact that Kitt’s microchip was almost ENTIRELY WIPED/OVERWRITTEN AND PUT INTO GOLIATH.  Because uh, the way the show cut it up for TV, it seems like Kitt’s really in no danger other than being annoyed.  But no, literally everyone almost dies.  Fun times!

Seriously why did this convoluted garbage get a two-parter but Kitt vs. Karr didn’t?

This episode makes me sad.  Not just because Garthe tried, and almost succeeded, to take away everything we love in this show.  Not just because this episode strayed far enough from the typical formula for this to seem like some dystopian nightmare version of Knight Rider. Not just because freaking Adrianne is back.

I mean because I loved Garthe’s character, and this totally changed it.  I like that they went into Garthe’s trauma a bit more with this one, but unlike some villains in the Knight Rider canon (okay let’s not play games, UNLIKE KARR-), what he does is so dastardly, SO insaNE, that there is no way to argue that he might be justified.  No.  No.  Garthe, Adrianne, and Goliath are gone now, and that’s how it had to be.

OH ALSO GO O F F APRIL YES QUEEN I LOVE YOU- I honestly felt so bad for her when she turned around and broke down right after standing up to him, like dang, that hurts.  And Devon was sweet in this episode too ;w;

Okay but were they planning on making another episode of this?  Because that end scene was such an obvious teaser it’s not even funny.

“I hope we don’t run into those very much drowned people out in the streets again, Michael.  And I especially hope that they do not construct another semitrailer with the exact same scale and name as the previous one that was driven into the ocean.”

“Yes, I agree Kitt, this is also an anxiety that I possess despite the fact that they are very much definitely Deceased.  I sure hope that plot convenience does not interfere in the future.”

THANK GOODNESS THAT ADRIANNE IS GONE

wait what?  her actress is in another episode as another character who’s just as awful? wHYYYYYY

A Good Knight's Work

THAT BEAR NEEDS TO DIE. I am so glad Michael ejected the dumb thing at the end, Kitt deserved it. Especially after Michael essentially told him to temporarily kill himself. Michael's a cyberbully now ig. The arc with Kitt and the car salesman was cute. Apparently deactivation is considered programming now? Michael my mans you could have given Kitt any warning at all (I kind of take this back after one of the Season 3 episodes I’ve watched uHHHH this was a lot of warning compared to how Michael rolls in S3 what the heck is wrong with him). Cute episode overall tho I guess. ALSO I JUST NOW REALIZED "A GOOD KNIGHT'S WORK" IS A PUN BECAUSE KITT IS WILTON KNIGHT'S WORK AND I'M MAD AT MYSELF FOR NOT NOTICING IT SOONER-

Mouth of the Snake and that other garbage one that's title makes no sense

David might as well be a plank of wood. A plank of wood that yeets himself ten feet into the air whenever possible, but I digress. Does this count as superpowers? I just love how he offended Kitt 0.1 seconds after meeting him and then Michael proceeded to tell Kitt off for reacting. Love that soooo much. It's also hilarious to me how most of this episode has a similar structure to most Knight Rider episodes and then they randomly start reacreating the Most Dangerous Game--

Let it Be Me

Why isn't this the season finale?! I mean, I'm glad it's not, but why? This is way worse than White Bird like why- I feel like the Stevie episodes are kind of a controversy in this fandom? I loved the first one. This one's just, blegh it's okay. She and Michael still have pretty great chemistry WHEN THEY ARE SPEAKING IN REGULAR SPEECH. I do not like Stevie singing the same song with Michael 100 times. The duet at the end is kind of cute though, sue me I like corny things.

Stevie: I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have been with this one guy but ;m;

Michael: has been with approximately 100 women by now

Also Michael: How could you ;m;

Big Iron

This episode is kinda wild. Why does the guy manage to have a full out breakup with Lucy in less than one minute? Why is Michael a marriage counselor now? Why couldn't Kitt take the oxygen out of the cabin when Michael was definitely going to die if he didn't?  Since when does Turbo Boost use a ton of oxygen anyway?  Why does this man just immediately make up with his wife after finding out that she helped him? And most of all, WHY DIDN'T THAT BARTENDER LADY ACT THE LEAST BIT CONCERNED WHEN THEY ABSOLUTELY TORE UP THE PLACE??? Lmbo she's just like "Stop it guys :/"

It’s so bizarre that this is the season finale ahsdoifhasodf but go off I guess NBC

[x-cybrrpunqq-x]

SO first and foremost I’m gonna talk about how the au was made because this is MY post and I get to decide what I talk about first.

So this au was made one night when I was laying in bed listening to a cover of one of my favorite video game songs—(it was an undertale one, sue me), and I had my sketch book on me so I was just kinda drawing yknow, as you do.

“I’ll rule the world, I’ll be their god now!” is the VERY LYRIC that sparked this au, so thank you “Your Worst Nightmare”

ANYWAY with that out of the way I’ll get to the fun parts (something I should mention is that these guys are all like teenagers LOL suffer)

So first off; elements :D and some backgrounds too

BRIAN: Fire element, rare occurrence to the world and by all rights should NOT be roaming the streets yet he does anyway. Was originally taken by a lab at the age of six because he was a danger to everyone around him, his parents were air elements, nearly his entire family was—and the only reason he was taken to the lab was because after severely burning his cousin, Vanessa (who haunts his dreams regularly), his aunt demanded he was taken away, or something else was done.

Brian was struck with the rare, and unlucky, chance of being born with an element other than what his parents were. Fire was his element, and since fire is seen as very rare, and a big danger in his small town, he had to be taken away. He resents his parents for it, but also understands it was for the safety of everyone else, so he guesses he can’t be too mad. But it still hurts.

 TIM: Water element, can create very big, rushing waves that would wipe anyone out in a heartbeat, or can create small water droplets and make puddles. Tim was raised in a not so gentle environment, and had to learn how to fight for himself from a very young age. He would often wake up from nightmares to a tall man standing in the corner of his room—but after reaching the age of 16, these started to slow.

Tim normally kept to himself and didn’t have a lot of friends until he reached high school, where he met Jay and Alex. And later on, Brian.

 JAY: Earth element, has his element very under control and can go between making earthquakes, taking chunks of land out, or growing small plants. Jay is an emotionally distant boy who doesn’t normally let his emotions get the better of him, which helps him out in controlling his element.

Jay was raised in a very.. aggressive-type environment, and learned through pure fear how to protect himself with chunks of land at his disposal. However, one of his close friends in 3rd grade taught him how to do the more gentle stuff, as well.

He slowly started to get better with things in high school, where he met Tim and Alex, and eventually Brian.

 ALEX: No element. Both of his parents were an air element, but much like Brian, he was struck with a rare chance, but to have no element at all. Unlike canon Alex (because this AU was made for the pure fact of self-care), he’s a very sweet boy who is OBSESSED with learning about all these different elements around him!! He’s always carrying a journal around with him for this reason!

He’s very close with Jay, and good friends with Tim and Brian, even if Brian acts a little.. hesitant, around him.

 As you can tell I’ve only really thought out a lot about Brian but we’re getting there, slowly!! (Brian was the main focus for this au when first making it anyway so shh it’s fine)

 The operator is in this au, but I haven’t thought him out completely. Only that he was a lab worker when Brian was there and died due to unknown circumstances. The body went missing the next day from the lab’s morgue. Nobody knows what happened to the body, but there was no way they could search for it now.

 BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!

Power time :>

- Brian’s powers are all based around his negative energies and emotions. He will often burst into flames when under certain amounts of stress, or when he’s in a blind fury. It takes a long time for him to cool down.

- Tim’s powers are based around his fear, and though he can control his powers easily, they often turn unstable when he starts to cry. He is highly dangerous in this situation.

- Jay’s powers work on his own accord, he can control them how he says and when he says. He is the most stable with his powers, unlike Tim and Brian.

 THERE’S EVEN MORE!

THERE ARE THESE CREATURES FOR THE AU THAT ARE CALLED “Shadow Creatures”, and basically:

They are as their name entails! Creatures made of shadows, “Creatures of The Dark”, “Kids Tale”. They often come in packs of three to four, and are always hiding in the shadows. Once you are seen by a Shadow Creature, you are SCREWED. A thing to keep in mind: they only go after one target, so you may be screwed, but your party will be safe!

Shadow Creatures can be defeated by a strong light source, and never come out during the day. Only a night.

 And don’t get me started on “Shadow Shifters”, otherwise we’ll be here all NIGHT.

 Anyway! The elemental au’s main storyline right now Is just… the little group is trying to keep themselves safe from having lab workers on their tails constantly to get back their most prized experiments.

 Oh yeah! Did I mention that @mangoshibi’s boy Garry was in this au?

@midnight---hollow hh HERE YOU GO SDUFGHJ

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of March 18th, 2020

Best of this Week: Outlawed #1 - Eve L. Ewing, Kim Jacinto, Espen Grundetjern and Clayton Cowles

It all starts with one incident.

The original Civil War kicked off when the New Warriors team, trying to get footage for their terrible reality TV show, started a battle with some supervillains in hiding, one of which was Nitro. Nitro self destructed and wound up killing over 750 people in Stamford, Connecticut. This resulted in heroes choosing sides in the debate of whether or not to register their identities and receive training under SHIELD, effectively being handed a leash, or choosing to fight against the tyranny of having their lives exposed and powers exploited.

It’s been a little over 13 years since that story and a new crop of heroes has emerged in its wake. Outlawed #1 takes the basic concept of Civil War and lowers sheer tragedy while maintaining the stakes of hero groups like The Champions who are caught in the immediate crossfire of its inciting incident, most specifically, their leader: Kamala Khan.

Eve L. Ewing starts the book in medias res with a Legislative hearing on a bill that would ban underage superheroism. Not only are the teens present, but we also get appearances from Avengers like Captain America, Captain Marvel and Vision, all of whom have big stakes in the fight. Captain America understands why they’re having the hearing, but counters that he was doing what the Champions were when he was their age, fighting for Freedom and he’s not wrong, but times have changed and there weren’t as many active superheroes as there are now.

Captain Marvel is a damning case as she’s managed to avoid any repercussions for her actions during Civil War II for the last few years, but one of the senators brings up the fact that two heroes under her charge became supervillains, those being Kamala’s former friends; Discord and Lockdown. She stammers as she can’t counter that and Vision is initially silent, indicating that something happened to Viv Vision in whatever incident occurred. 

When Spider-Man, Riri Williams, Nadia Pym and Sam Alexander (Nova) are questioned, they are treated as though they are kids who needed adult support and supervision, almost like fragile things and not like heroes who have helped save the universe. Kim Jacinto and Espen Grundetjern characterize each hero through facial expressions and backgrounds that color their moods. Miles looks furious under his mask with a red background, Riri is nonplussed as she always is under a cool purple glow and Nadia is forlorn with hazy pink color.

Sam then goes on a tirade about how these same people don’t care about the problems that the Champions were created to solve like poverty, drug abuse and hunger and only make a stand when the kids try to protect their own and he makes a good point. When they were founded, the adult heroes were just fighting one another again and again, month after month and not caring about the citizens… but his concerns are simply pushed to the side by a well dressed man with a Supercuts hairstyle and fake concern.

We then cut to the “Coles Academic High School” where Kamala, Miles and others are attending some sort of teen summit to watch over the plot device, Ailana Kabua, as she’s been receiving death threats for her speeches on environmentalism. She’s a very obvious nod to Malala Yousafzai, a young Pakistani advocate for female education, and Greta Thunberg, the young Swedish environmental activist that’s also begun to speak to the world. Both of these young women have courted controversy for speaking about what they believe in and have garnered undue hatred for it.  

The other Champions, consisting of Power Man (Victor Alvarez), Nadia Pym (The Wasp), Riri, Viv, Nova, Bombshell and Pinpoint, wait in the wings for anyone trying to assassinate or attack her. All things considered, this is a pretty stacked team. Ewing also does an amazing job of writing each character with their individual voices, much like she’s been able to make Riri Williams feel natural in her own solo series. They banter with each other like the teenagers/young adults that they are while Jacinto gives their stakeout a light hearted feel.

Things initially seem to be going well up until a DRAGON shows up out of nowhere to attack the summit. Jacinto, Grundetjern and Cowles give us an excellent splash page of the Dragon looking down at the Champions while breathing a small bit of fire. Jacinto frames the dragon as being far larger than the Champions, towering over the buildings around them with its wings taking up the sides of the page. Grundetjern colors the dragon with varying oranges, sometimes glowing and sometimes shadowed on its skin and Cowles accentuates it with a scratchy “GRAAAAAHHH” sound effect for its yell.

While some of them are dealing with that, Bombshell encounters the Roxxon Strike Team while Kamala and Ailana make their daring escape through the tunnels of the school. Jacinto and Grundetjern give us a double page spread of the absolute chaos with several Champions fighting off the dragon or the mercenaries. Admittedly, this scene is utterly chaotic but it does have something of a line to follow from the dragon flying through the air and its wing leading to Bombshell blasting a guy and Nadia with Power Man taking down another merc.

Grundetjern throws just about every color that they can in this scene, giving us vibrant greens for Pinpoint’s portals, nice and bright oranges for the dragon’s fire and Bombshell’s blasts as well as a more grayish black for Mile’s costume as he pretty much stomps a guy into mush.

As much as the Champions maintain a sense of cordiality with each other, they’re still teenagers that struggle with working together from time to time and Ewing stresses that when Power Man forms a plan to use one of Pinpoint’s portals to punch the dragon with all of his built up Chi. Riri then comes up with her own plan to fly Power Man up to the dragon and then release him. They ask Ms. Marvel which option is better, but as she’s maintaining her cover with Ailana, she tells them to make the call.

In the middle of this indecisiveness, Viv swoops in and decides to air her frustration at not being able to defeat the dragon and decides that she’s going to phase through it. Jacinto draws a look of palpable anger on Viv’s face as she rushes past Riri with Grundetjern’s bright wave of green energy trails behind her as well as Cowles “SWOOOOSH” sound effect to capture the velocity of her flight.At the same time, Power Man, unaware of Viv’s rush of anger, goes through with his plan and punches through a portal.

This is where it all goes wrong.

Jacinto, Grundetjern and Cowles give readers a perfect sequence of panels with Power Man punching, Viv “ZOOMing” up to the dragon as Riri tells her to hold on and then the moment before it all goes bad. Pinpoint’s portal opens just behind Viv and she is overcharged with Power Man’s Chi in a blast of orange, green and yellow as her face is stretched in agony and her limbs contort before she overwhelms the dragon in two separate splash pages.

Both of these pages are intense as the first one sees Viv yelling pain before “taking control” and engulfing the dragon with a “FWOOOOSSHH” mirroring its firebreath. This page is filled with what appears to be green flame and a silhouette of Viv in the middle of it. The next splash page shows Viv alone in the pyro, looking like a horrific combination of the Phoenix Force and Dormammu. She has lost all control of herself and this is where Ewing, Jacinto and Grundetjern raise the stakes of the battle.

Viv’s newfound power spirals out of control and begins to collapse the school and the surrounding buildings and we cut to Kamala doing everything she can to protect Ailana from the collapsing ceiling around them before going back to the Champions scrambling to stop Viv. Ewing continues to show how well she can write Riri as she cries while making a plan with Nadia that possibly kills Viv and stops the dragon altogether.

The city is in shambles and this is one of the Champions lowest moments ever.

Cutting back to the present day, we see that the “Superhuman Welfare Act” passes and a new governmental watchdog group called CRADLE is sent to round up all of the teen superheroes and metahumans around America. The bill also seems to garner support from former teen heroes and New Warriors members Justice and Speedball. Justice had joined the pro-registration side during Civil War because he blamed himself for not being a guiding hand for the New Warriors that died at Stamford and Speedball had already suffered the consequences of surviving that same incident.

However, the one who may suffer the most is the girl who the act is nicknamed after, Kamala Khan as we see her in a hospital bed suffering from injuries while trying to save Ailana.

This first issue was explosive and gripping throughout. Initially I was worried that it wouldn’t be able to live up to its concept or just be a less cool Civil War, but the one thing that this book maintained because of Ewing, Jacinto, Grundetjern and Cowles was heart.

The Champions are heroes, but they’re also all teenagers that don’t have the experience that the adult heroes do and in typical American fashion, no one learns from the mistakes of the past. Victor already butted heads with Riri for his recklessness in the past, but now he’s given consequences for his actions. America remembers Stamford, but doesn’t seem to remember how the Civil War nearly tore the country apart and installed a tyrant in a high government position in the aftermath.

If anything, the Champions aren’t going to leave this incident the same people that they were before.

Also, support me on Patreon!

https://www.patreon.com/join/TyTalksComics

[lizablee]

Choices (Linked Universe) pt 3

Characters derived from the Linked Universe AU by @jojo56830​ (@linkeduniverse) --> tws in the tags, shit gets real.<--

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Time felt the air shift and looked to the sky. The lightning was still flickering, but the thunder didn’t follow as it had before, and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The storm’s moving away.

Something moved in the darkness. He turned quietly, drawing his bow. The world was silent for another moment, then a torch appeared, a tiny light weaving its way through the long grass. He relaxed as he saw Four approaching, drenched from the rain and flushed with exertion.

“Where are the others?” Four began quickly.

“Legend and the captain have gone to the bay. Our ranch hand and Sky abseiled down.” Time glanced at his bow. “I’m keeping watch.”

Four took a deep breath, nodding. “I got more out of the kid after he calmed down. He watched our champion fall. He never deployed his paraglider, he just… disappeared.”

Time frowned. “So there’s no point in searching the bay then.”

“Unless he was able to swim there,” Four suggested. “It’s a ways to go, but he’s tough.”

“He’s not the strongest swimmer,” Time mused. “If he had the energy, he’d be more likely to climb up, or at least to hold on to the cliff face.”

Four looked down into the ocean. It really was just as Wind described - darkness. He focused hard on the water, trying to see any signs of his friends.

A ripple of light went through the waves. Four’s eyes widened. A sword beam?

“I think they’re under attack.” He exclaimed. Time gritted his teeth. Nothing I can do. 

Four noticed his silence. “Old man. Are you alright?’ he asked, searching his face.

Time dragged his eyes away from the sea. Four looked calm. This irritated him, but he didn’t know why.

“I can’t help them.” he murmured. “Not from up here. I’m useless.”

Four crossed his arms. “You’re not useless. You’re on guard.” Time ran a hand through his hair, frowning. Four sighed. “I get it. I want to be down there too.”

A chime rang out from Four’s tunic, startling the hero. He pulled a glowing object from his pocket, opening his palm to reveal a stone glittering with blue light. The Pirate’s Charm!

The pair cringed as the device projected a harsh crackling sound. The noise morphed into a familiar voice.

“Hey sailor, can you hear us? It’s Sky!”

“We hear you, Sky. It’s just me and the old man. The kid’s resting up. What’s your status?”

“We’re in a cave. We found our champion. He drowned, but he’s OK now.” They heard a harsh cough in the background. Four and Time exchanged a look.

“Well, I mean, he’s alive.” Sky said. There was a rustle, and the sound coming through the charm became muffled. Sky’s voice was soft. “He’s not looking great. There was a monster down here that wounded him pretty badly. We can’t see the full damage, but he’s saying… things.”

“What kind of things?”

---

Twilight held the Sheikah Slate like it was about to bite him. The blue light running through it danced over his fingertips and cast a soft glow through the cavern. It was a poor substitute for a fire, but Wild hadn’t been conscious enough to do anything beyond activating the device.

“Can you lean in a bit closer,” Sky grumbled. “I can barely see as it is, holding that thing way over there isn’t helping.” The Master Sword sat unsheathed next to them, its own glow pulsing gently.

“How about you hold it up and I’ll bandage him then?” Twilight said testily. Wild made a small noise. “Shut up, you.” Twilight muttered. “It’s not happening.”

Twilight’s first move after Wild had been revived was to disappear into the darkness, exploring how deep the cave was and searching for enemies. Sky thought it was a horrible idea, until Twilight came back with the Sheikah Slate in hand. The lizalfos must have surprised Wild in the cave.

The first thing Twilight said when he returned was that he could smell blood.

Wild’s wound was severe, a laceration circling his torso and cutting deep into his abdomen. He was in a lot of pain. Sky had to remind himself of that. He was in pain, which must be why he was saying those things.

The storm clouds had begun to clear, leeching away into the night. A hopeful haze of moonlight broke through, touching the waves and giving the world shape. Sky looked out to the water, reaching and pulling at the sandbank inside the cave. It had seemed so deep and wild not so long ago. He knew his optimism was driving the ranch hand crazy, but he was truly starting to feel like their luck had turned.

As if on cue, voices rang out from the ocean. Sky looked at Twilight in surprise. The ranch hand dropped the Sheikah Slate and waded into the shallows, pushing against breakers. He peered out of the cave mouth, then threw himself backwards with a shout.

In a rush, a raft tore through where he had been standing. Legend was crouched low behind the mast, rapidly retracting hookshot in hand. Warrior held a shield between them and the wind, a lit torch fluttering in his hand. Their mouths fell open as they flew past the cave and vanished. Twilight felt the wash ripple around him.

“Help has arrived,” he said weakly.

The raft made its unsteady way back to the cave, its passengers haphazardly waving Korok leaves at the unfurled sail. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to use the hookshot,” Warrior argued. “You nearly ran over our ranch hand!”

“My mistake, I forgot waving leaves could make boats move.” Legend deadpanned, flapping his leaf faster. The raft came to an abrupt stop, digging into the sand, sending the pair stumbling forward. Warrior lifted his torch, flooding the cavern with light.

“Oh,” he said numbly. “You don’t look so good, champ.” 

Wild was a mess. The cloth Sky had been pressing to his midsection was soaked through with seawater and blood. Warrior wasted no time, handing his torch to Twilight and falling to Wild’s side. “Help me sit him up. We need to wrap his whole abdomen.” His tone was grim. 

Legend pulled out a dagger and began to cut away at Wild’s tunic. Wild caught his wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Wait,” Wild said softly. “It’ll be OK. Just let me die.”

Legend reeled. “Have you lost your mind?” he demanded.

“He keeps saying that.” Sky said sadly, helping Warrior to pull Wild into a sit. “And talking about someone called Mipha.” Legend’s eyes widened. 

“You don’t get it.” Wild groaned. “This happens all the time. S’ok.” Legend shot Twilight an incredulous look. Twilight looked like he was ready to break something.

“What about potions?” Warrior interrupted.

“He won’t take them.” Twilight muttered.

“He’s choking on them.” Sky clarified. “He was just drowned.”

Twilight growled something under his breath. The torch flickered as he paced, agitated. Shadows swirled around the cavern. Legend drew out a bundle of fresh bandages. In a quick movement, he pulled the soaked cloth away from the wound. Wild bit back a shout. For a brief moment Legend cast his eyes over the laceration before pressing a fresh compress down hard. Wild cried out.

“This is bad. He needs a fairy.” Legend said grimly. He got to work quickly, bandaging as tightly as he dared.

“I’ll call the old man,” Twilight said, tossing the torch to Warrior. He snatched up the Sheikah Slate and paced towards the cave mouth. Warrior held the torch closer to Wild, hoping the warmth would make some difference.

“We need to get out of here and get some help.” the leader spoke. “Fastest way is up. Any ideas?”

“Same way we came down.” Sky piped up. “We strap him to my back and use my clawshots to get up. He’s not that heavy. If I’m careful, I can make it with both of us.”

“Do those clawshots work in this weather? The rain has died down, but there’s still wind,” Legend pointed out. Sky nodded.

“Those trees are strong, they fight against the sea all the time. I can use them, and move with the wind so we don’t hit the cliff face.” Sky sounded confident. Wild opened his mouth to speak, but his voice dissolved into harsh coughs. Legend shushed him while Sky patted him between the shoulderblades. Wild groaned.

“The rest of us should take the raft back. It’s too dangerous to scale the cliff in these conditions.” Warrior decided.

Sky and Legend finished tightening Wild’s bandages. The hero had gone pale and quiet, watching them work with glassy eyes. Twilight returned, attaching the Sheikah Slate to its place on Wild’s belt.

“I’m sorry. If I hadn’t lost my other clawshot, I could take him up.” He looked to Sky. “The old man’s going to meet you both at the top with a fairy.” His eyes flickered to Wild, meeting the fallen hero’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” He said more softly. “I know this isn’t what you want.” 

Wild’s eyes drifted shut. Twilight’s face fell.

“Kid?”

You’re not going to like this, but I can’t put you guys at risk.

“Hey, you with us?”

Wild felt the world spin. He hoped he’d acted quickly enough. He hoped his gamble would work.

The dagger fell from his fingers.

“What’s happening?”

“Did his wound reopen?”

“This reminds me of the first time we met. You were just a reckless child... always getting yourself hurt at every turn. Every time I would heal you, just as I'm doing right now.”

“Hey, stay with me! Open your eyes!”

“No matter when, or how bad the wound... I hope you know... that I will always protect you.”

Something was forced into his mouth. He struggled, gagging, breathing in something that burned, swallowing bubbles of cool liquid. The object was torn away with a shout. He gasped for air.

“Stop! He’s choking!”

“It’s working!”

“You know what usually goes through my mind...it helps when I think-when I think about-”

“There’s no more time. Go now!”

“Do you really remember me?”

I don’t know.

I’m sorry.

[mark-it-down-fool]

Victor Draschoff, Terrified Ambush Predator

Mech walkers in games and art always fascinated me, mostly because they look cool as fuck. I decided to make a character who used a walker, specifically an Armoured Sentinel.

The character in question is one Victor Draschoff, a driver (or is it pilot?) of a walker, who fought against Tyranids on his home world of Domus. Now, Domus was almost uniquely suited to fight the Tyranids, being a forge-world, and even better, the forge-cities were placed on the mountaintops which covered in the planet. This allowed them to have height superiority on those Tyranids who did not land directly within the cities, allowing them to keep the xenos contained within the valleys, where toxic waste gathered. The planet was one of ice and snow; even if it had not begun as such, the clouds formed from the forges were so thick, the chemicals in such large quantities, that they blocked any heat from passing.

The Tyranids that could not fly, when attacking, would be forced to scramble up the mountains, easy targets for those above; even those that did fly could be stop by the guns, locking them into the valleys. Unfortunately, there were still far too many of the hungering xenos, their swarms so large that even with guns going over every inch of the walls, they had trouble stopping them. Thus, they formed the White Foxes, a group of merely fifty thousand. They would descend into the valleys, camouflaged and hidden. Once in a secure position, they would use the clawed feet of their walkers to dig into the stone, creating a hidden and secure locale. There, they would wait, for hours, sometimes even days, for the Tyranids to rush up from their own fortified positions. As soon as the last xenos went before them, they would pop out and unleash their heavy bolters upon the ass of the swarm, hellfire rounds crashing into them, horrific cries filling the air.

Victor fought hard, always prepared to die and surprised when he woke every morning, even as he slept with his autogun in his arms every night. He even took to sleeping in his walker, so that he would always be prepared and protected, it’s feet dug into the stone like a rat. His gray and white walker, covered in camouflage netting, could blend in with the stones, and was just small enough to be able to fit within errant boulders as ambush, after the walker’s clawed feet dug out enough space. Beyond that, he could not nothing but wait with bated breath, as the skittering of millions of claws made their way up the mountains. Then, after the ‘nids finally moved past, he and his squad-mates could pop up from behind them and tear them apart with their guns. Many times, far too many, they would turn and race back, as if attempting to take vengeance for their brethren, even as their bodies were torn apart. Some would manage reach the Sentinel before they could be killed. He could feel when their claws would begin to cut through the armor, digging deeper and deeper until he could feel the frigid air on his skin, as the hairs on his legs were shaved by their blades. Even now, the screeching of metal brings him back to those moments, the biting cold and the sickening fear filling him once again.

The funny thing was, even as he fought for his home, genestealer cults fought to take it, far from his reach. As they always do, they would destabilize infrastructure, bringing tension to a knife’s edge before erupting. Several cities fell to this before the enforcers realized the truth; in time, purple became an insult. Any who so much as whispered a word of complaint would vanish, or be shot by a firing line. They could take no chances against the enemies which hid within their midst.

The Domus Pattern Sentinel is armed with a Heavy Bolter equipped with Hellfire Rounds. They are designed to tear through numerous densely-packed infantry units, making them especially useful against the Tyranid infestations which have dug themselves into the valleys between the forge-city covered mountains of Domus. A unique aspect of this pattern is its clawed feet, granting it the ability to dig into rock, as well as move nearly vertically on any rocky surfaces. This pattern comes with a fully-enclosed and armoured canopy.

Now, for some fun facts about Victor! Victor named his sentinel after his wife, Svetlana. After she died, the sentinel and a sidle pict were the only things he had left of her. Svetlana, his sentinel, protected him, helped him defend his home, and reminded him of his dear wife; as such, he loves it with all his heart. Victor wears a soviet tanker-style hate, along with a thick sheepskin (but not sheep, because 40k) coat, photovisor goggles, and wool gloves. He has a notebook and a few pencils, and he enjoys sketching things; usually he sketches his wife, but sometimes he draws things from dreams, or nightmares. Other times, simply things that he sees or people that he knows. To make sure they don’t change. He sometimes calls people blatta as a curse, the word being from an ancient language that translates into purple, but was also a name for a type of beetle and cockroach. Due to his home being a forge world, the soldiers are equipped with autoguns, in a pattern that looks similar to a PPSH-41, but with a curved magazine instead of a drum.

That’s all that I have for Victor Draschoff, the tragic warrior who fought for his world, battling against insurmountable odds and a truly horrific enemy. I would wonder who won, but considering he is a Dark Heresy character, I don’t think he’s the luckiest bloke. I do hope you enjoyed reading about him, and I hope to play him some day. He is a Forge Worlder, his background is the Imperial Guard, and his role is Assassin. Have a nice day!

[tehartofficial]

Eudora’s Gift - 1.3k words

Day 1 of TUA Winter Holiday Prompts: Mitten

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640873  

Yarn moves over needles. Knitting needles, that is. Diego doesn’t like to think about the other type. 

It’s a beautiful color---navy blue, like her favorite turtleneck. When she wears it and gets flustered, her shoulders raise and she retreats just a little into the fabric. Diego knows; he’s seen it. Of course, his knitting project has to match her sweater. Then, when she wears the gift, she’ll have to pair it with her sweater, so he can see even more of her cute tics. 

The knitting needles click like a camera shutter. Like how his memory captured the instant Mom taught him how to knit. Not that he got it at first---no, actually, Diego was quite bad at knitting. Considering the mass of stringy, frizzy chaos in front of him, he might still be bad at knitting. He sighs, tossing it aside onto the couch with a thunk. On the wall of the apartment Eudora and him share, the clock ticks away the seconds. The seconds until she gets home. It’s the twenty-fourth, Christmas Eve. One of the rare days Diego gets off from the academy. Eudora didn’t stay at home, though---crime doesn’t take the holidays off, as she said. His mouth pulls into a smile to match his doe-eyed expression. One of the many, many things he loves about her is her work ethic. She is so dedicated. 

He bites his lip, looking down at the knotty mess of blue yarn. Eudora wouldn’t have left her gift for him until the last minute. But he has a good excuse! The mittens have to be perfect. And this… disaster that he’s been working on since October isn’t good enough. 

The collectible birds clock continues to count down the seconds. Mocking him. 

Diego bets the clock is still ticking as he jumps to his feet and runs to the street, a wild idea in his mind. He bets the minute hand is still moving as he scrambles down the apartment building’s stairs, like training in the old days, and shoves his car keys in the ignition. He bets the hour hand is still edging over, over the edge, halfway between the five and the six, but he needs to get there and back before Eudora can make it home. 

“Son of a bitch.” He nearly laughs, the full force of his idea hitting him. The roads are packed. It’s Christmas Eve---of course they are. People are rushing to their families, to get last-minute gifts, to buy food at the last possible second. Just like him. 

Diego’s fingers drum on the steering wheel, and he wants to floor it. The precinct is close to home; that’s one of the reasons that Eudora and him picked the place. SUVs crammed full of suitcases and screaming kids edge along the road. Honking fills the city like the sweet, sweet sound of Jingle Bells, but a million times more annoying.

Fifteen painful minutes later, his car pulls up to a corner store. The driver’s side door slams behind Diego as he gets out of the car and admires the shambles in front of him. Its windows are plastered with old movie posters and neon signs for soda. A plexiglass sign crowns the old wooden door, reading, “C TY COR ER ST R”. Once, it said something else. Now, chunks of the sign were gone with age. 

The steel railing is cold against his gloveless hands as he climbs a couple of stairs to the entrance. 

-

Summer brought a lot of nice things to the city. Most importantly, it brought more recreation time. Hey, even Reginald had a heart, apparently. Sundays in June, July, and August had a full hour of free time for each member of the Umbrella Academy. The sun carried warm rays onto everyone’s faces. But, there was a downside to this. It was boiling freakin’ hot. 

Diego slid the cooler door open in the corner store. Before his eyes was the largest selection of popsicles he had ever seen. (He hadn’t seen that many before, but still.) The cool air, rare in this weather, tumbled from the rectangular box of ice pops. He grinned. The gap in his two front teeth showed in his smile. His hands reached out towards the plastic-wrapped popsicles, and he grabbed bunches of them, eyeing each and every one of them before he was oh-so-rudely interrupted by-

“Hey! Don’t do that!” A stern voice chirped from behind him.

Diego turned around, hiding as many popsicles behind his back as he could. He saw a girl his age, with brown hair tugged into tight pigtails. Her face was screwed into an expression of disapproval. Even upset, Diego had to admit that she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. 

“Duh-duh-do whuh-what?” His face flushed at his stuttering. Of course he had to have trouble talking in front of her! 

“You think I can’t see the popsicles behind your back?” She crossed her arms assertively over a t-shirt advertising a cartoon. Her brown eyes the color of stripes on a bumblebee narrowed. “I wanna be a police officer when I grow up. I can see the clues that you’re hiding those popsicles.” 

He opened his mouth to disagree, but nothing came out. The heat was already starting to melt the Fudgesicles and Rocket Pops behind him. Finally, he gathered himself, and shouted, “Who e-even are yuh-you, anywuh-way?!” 

The girl smirked, holding out her open hand. “Eudora Patch.”

Diego set a few of the popsicle bags down in it, not realizing she wanted to shake his hand. “Di-Diego.” He couldn’t help but smile back. 

-

The apartment door flies open on its hinges, and Diego sucks in a breath of air after having vaulted all those stairs. He chuckles, and drops as many popsicles as he could hold onto the kitchen table. Hey, maybe it wasn’t a diamond ring, but it’s the thought that counts. And it’s not like she won’t get a diamond ring someday. Just not yet. That has to be perfect, but not like the failed attempt at knitting. The proposal has to be perfect-perfect, where there’s everything short of a rainbow in the background and everyone standing and clapping. 

Eudora looks up from a newspaper. He nearly melts again, because it’s the simple things. A newspaper. He’s seen her read them before, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t as cute every time. “Where have you been?” Her eyebrows draw together, then raise at the pile of flavored ice. 

“Happy Christmas,” he sighs and falls back onto the couch next to her. 

“Is that my gift?” Eudora asks mischievously. She rolls her eyes and elbows him when he wrinkles the crossword section resting on the cushion underneath him. 

Diego nods. “Sorry. It’s-it’s supposed to represent the first time we met, at that corner store when we were eight. I-I did anuh-another thing too, but…,” he trailed off, averting his gaze from her too-beautiful face. She deserves better than a pile of Rocket Pops. 

“Oh,” Eudora says softly. She folds the newspaper section she’s been reading, and sets it down on the coffee table. The wooden floorboards creak as she carefully makes her way over to the kitchen table. Diego’s heart thumps.

Her fingers push around the popsicles on the table, and then she giggles, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. He lights up with the noise. It’s better than any song ever sung, ever will be sung. And her smile is better than any masterpiece in history. 

“It’s perfect,” she whispers. Her shoulders rise and the neck of her turtleneck sweater rises up to attempt to cover her blushing face. 

“I-It is?” Diego gets up from the couch and studies her face. She’s being genuine.

“It is.” Eudora repeats, and today, he feels like he could propose to her. 

[littlewolf651]

Moonstruck

So @teamdoesminecraft made an au a while ago with Team Crafed and the series H2O: just add water. And like, at the beginning of the year we talked about a scene for it on her Discord server. So I decided to write it now.

Inspiration is weird.

Uh, enjoy Angie.

It was a nice summer evening out on the Gold Coast, the full moon was rising high over the sky, and most teenagers would be out partying in the warm air or on the beach.

Mitch hated this. He wanted to go out, have fun and try to forget the hell that was now his life, but he couldn't. The fear of touching any water while outside was too much.

For months now Mitch had wanted to prove mermaids were real. He'd been saved by one long ago from drowning and saw it! No one believed him, but he never let that stop him. He'd pushed everyone away in his attempts to find the truth. But no matter how much he wanted to prove it, that did not mean he wanted to become one! It had been a full month, and now he was utterly stuck dealing with this all alone. He couldn't trust anyone and those he could trust wouldn't want to see him. He couldn't blame them, but it didn't make the loneliness any better.

He hated being stuck inside and just wanted to get out for a bit. It wasn't too late so it wasn't like he'd get wet just walking the streets, he'd be okay right? He got up and grabbed his keys, putting on his jacket and heading for the door, opening it up and blinking up at the bright full moon shining down on him.

~~

Jerome had been invited out to hang out with Quentin Ian and for the night but he had turned them down. He wanted to spend some time at home playing video games. He'd typically invite Mitch over to play as well, but the two weren't exactly on speaking terms these days. Mitch's crazy quest to prove mermaids were real was destroying him, and Jerome didn't want any part of that. The final straw was when Mitch nearly drowned on the way to Mako island, and he got yelled at for saving him. If Mitch wanted to kill himself trying to prove something impossible, then fine by him. See if he cared.

"Biggums!" A familiar voice called out outside in his backyard.

Jerome tuned him out, he didn't want to talk to the other.

"Jerome Come Out! I Wanna Show You Something!" he could hear snickering in Mitch's voice. The other was probably drunk or something. All the more reason to ignore him then.

Mitch kept calling out outside until Jerome heard a large splash from his pool outside and a laugh. Of course, the idiot fell in.

Jerome rolled his eyes and paused his game, going to the window and opening it up "Dammit Asshole! I don't wanna talk! Get out of here bef-" his words died in his throat.

Mitch was swimming in his pool, that much he expected. What Jerome wasn't expecting was the enormous gold and orange fishtail swaying where Mitch's legs should be. For a moment, the rational part of him tried to rationalise that this clearly had to be a costume, but something told him that this was real.

Mitch had a stupidly happy grin on his face and waved at Jerome "Come down! Come and look at it!"

Jerome could only give a small nod and closed his window. Walking down the stairs, he felt like his mind was racing. Mitch had a tail. Mitch was in his pool with a fucking tail! What the hell was he supposed to do?! Plus that meant Mitch really was right the whole time! Fuck, Mitch was never gonna let him live it down.

When he finally worked up the courage to go into the backyard, Mitch just grinned and waved happily, swimming up to the edge and resting his arms on the stone edge.

"Uh… Hey…" Jerome muttered still standing at the edge.

"Wanna come for a swim?" Mitch smiled "The water's so niiiice."

Jerome blinked "Uh, you don't seem concerned by the fact you have a tail…"

"I know!" Mitch grinned at that, pushing away from the wall with his arms and admiring his tail that swished in the water "Isn't it pretty?"

"I mean, yeah. But… how?" Jerome murmured in shock.

Mitch didn't seem to hear the question or ignored it, happily running his hand along the scales of the tail "I told you merpeople were real." he snickered "Cause I am one now!"

Jerome could tell something was definitely wrong with Mitch. Mitch was a dumbass, but he wasn't this much of a dumbass "Uh, Mitch, have you been drinking or something?"

"Just the moonlight. It's so pretty, isn't it?"

"... Sure."

Mitch reached out with his hand and tried to reach Jerome's leg "Come swim!" he cooed.

"Uh, In a minute." Jerome smiled nervously taking a small step back "Just gotta make a call is all."

Mitch seemed satisfied with that answer and beamed "Okay!" he nodded before going back to entertaining himself in the water.

Jerome quickly raced back in and grabbed his phone. He had no idea who he was supposed to call but found himself calling Ian's number. He'd hung out with him and Quentin lately since cutting ties with Mitch. They were also pretty secretive so he hoped they'd be willing to keep one more secret.

"Hello?" Ian's voice yawned on the phone after picking up

"Uh hey Ian, where are you now?" Jerome asked, his foot tapping on the ground tensely

"At Quentin's house? I did invite you over, right? The offer still stands."

"Well yeah, but… Look can you guys come over? I need your help."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Uh…" Jerome looked back out the window at Mitch still happily swimming in the water, his tail flipping out water and soaking the deck with pool water "Mitch came over and-"

Ian sighed "Jerome, I told you, don't listen to him. He needs time to learn his lesson and-"

"No, Ian, you don't understand! Mitch is my pool right now with-"

"He's not drunk, is he?"

"Mitch is in my pool with a fucking fishtail where his legs should be!" Jerome yelled into the phone.

There was silence from the other line before Ian's voice spoke in shock "What?"

Jerome quickly explained what had happened, and he heard Quentin groan in the background and mutter something about the moon. Ian sighed again "Alright alright, we're coming over. Just, keep Mitch quiet and not draw attention. The last thing you need is neighbours checking him out."

Ian hung up quickly after that and Jerome put his phone down. He walked back out to the pool and sighed, watching Mitch happily swimming. He sat down by the edge and watched Mitch come swimming over, still grinning like an idiot.

~~~~

It took a while and a lot of trying to keep Mitch from splashing so much, but Ian and Quentin finally showed up, taking the side door into the yard and staring at the sight in shock.

"Hey, Ian! Hey Quentin!" Mitch grinned "I told you they were real! See?!" he gestured to his tail happily.

Quentin groaned and smacked his forehead while Ian looked at Quentin "I told you he'd blow it eventually."

"Shut it, or I'm pushing you in with him," Quentin grumbled.

Jerome got up and stared at them "How are you guys so calm about this?!"

Ian raised an eyebrow "Why the hell do you think Jerome?"

After a minute, Jerome blinked in shock "You mean to tell me Mitch was right about you guys knowing something about merfolk?" he demanded

"Look, do you want our help or not?" Quentin demanded

"Help with what? I've never been better!" Mitch grinned

Jerome looked at Mitch and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose "What's wrong with him?"

"The idiot went and got himself moonstruck." Quentin explained, shaking his head at Mitch in disappointment "The full moon can have different effects on merfolk depending on the planets and or what they're doing and stuff. We're just lucky he didn't go to the beach or something and expose himself to a crowd or something."

"Well, how do we turn him back?" Jerome demanded

"Well he won't go back to acting normal till the moon sets, and we need to dry him off as well."

It took a solid hour to get Mitch out of the pool. He kept insisting he just wanted to swim. They only managed to get him out when Jerome got in the water to lure him to the edge so Ian and Quentin could grab his arms and pull him out. Jerome got out as well, and after using a towel to somewhat dry himself, he wrapped it around Mitch's tail it to help carry him inside to Jerome's bed. They initially tried to put him on the couch, but the merman flopped onto the floor and started pulling himself back to the pool.

Once Mitch was reasonably dry, Quentin explained they just had to wait till morning now and that they'd properly explain everything to Jerome and Mitch.

They two left downstairs after that to go sleep on the couches while Jerome sat on a chair next to Mitch on the bed.

"So, uh… you're really a merman now.?" he asked, trying to break the ice since they hadn't spoken in a good month.

Mitch nodded "Yep. isn't it cool?"

"Yeah but... you have your own pool at home… why come here?"

"I wanted to see you." Mitch smiled and gave a small yawn "Missed you."

Jerome blinked "You missed me?"

"Mm-hmm." Mitch nodded, snuggling into the bedsheets "I've been a real meanie to you."

Yeah, he was definitely not all there at the moment, Mitch rarely ever admitted he was at fault.

Jerome sighed "We'll talk more tomorrow biggums, you've got a lot of explaining to do." he muttered, getting up and leaving to sleep in the guest bedroom while mitch happily fell asleep on the other's bed.

~~~~

Mitch's head hurt like hell when he woke up the next morning. Fuck, had he been drinking or something? He couldn't remember anything from the previous night. What happened?

When he realised where he was, however, he grew pale and swore softly. Oh God, what was he doing in Jerome's house?! In his bed?! How drunk was he?! He was still clothed thankfully, so it seemed like nothing had happened, but he really didn't want to know or be proven wrong.

He could hear the shower going in the bathroom next door, Jerome was probably in there. It was probably best if he left now. He didn't want to be caught in the awkwardness that would be talking with him after the last time they spoke did not end on good terms.

He got out, and after making sure he had his keys and phone, he tiptoed down the stairs and to the front door. He could see two figures sleeping on the couches but didn't stay around to see who in case they woke up.

Once out the door, he practically sprinted back home, slamming the door to his house behind him once inside, his mind racing.

His phone rang, and he could see it was from Jerome, but he let it ring out. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to see him. It was better if he didn't try to remember that night.

But nothing major could've happened that night, right?