#you hear him bouncing down the hill like a cartoon

[especiallyhaytham]

Thinking about the part in Assassin's Creed 3 where Ziio does a leap of faith from a tree, and I go "Oh I can do that too, let me impress her" but the pathfinding broke (as it does very often in Assassin's Creed 3) and Haytham just went and fell off the whole damn cliff.

[jalapenobee]

That’s… wow, that is kinda big (it’s not smut I swear)

“Maybe Hunk will forget?”

“Hunk never forgets.”

“Still. I don’t wanna waste money on anything else. My wallet’s almost empty.”

“Then I’ll pay!”

Keith considered this. A free pumpkin, he didn’t have to pay… alright, pretty good deal.

“Fine.”

Keith let himself be dragged by the hand, by Lance, towards the pumpkin patch that was thankfully empty. He stopped, though, when they got to the opening in the gate and leaned against it. “Alright, you got 40 minutes till closing time. Be quick.”

Lance blinked in confusion. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

Keith shook his head and Lance stuck his bottom lip out. Time for the puppy eyes. “Pleeeeeease?”

Come on, come on, resist! ResiST, YOU ASS!

Keith broke in seconds.

Aside from the possibility of Keith having to deal with… creatures that lived in the pumpkin patch, this might not be so bad. No one to embarrass himself in front of, and besides, Lance was right there with him.

Scratch that. Lance was already walking away, leaving Keith to trek through the thick vines and leaves to catch up with him. He shivered and pulled his red scarf tighter around his neck.

Lance, who was at the far edge of the patch, was hunched over, inspecting a pumpkin. It was on the smaller side, only about the size of a biking helmet. But it didn’t seem to have any nicks or scrapes, so it was a likely candidate. If only it had been bigger.

Despite its small size, Lance picked up the pumpkin and turned around, nearly stumbling into Keith, who was standing behind him. How Lance didn’t hear him, we’ll never know.

“Are we getting that one?”

“Okay, first of all, don’t stand so damn close behind me. And second, maybe. It’s kind of small, but if we don’t find anything else then we’ll take it.”

Lance plopped the pumpkin in Keith’s hands, brushing past him to find more. Keith followed suit with a tired smile, carefully stepping around the pumpkins. His partner, however, bounced around the patch at skipping speed, feet swiftly avoiding the vegetation.

While Lance bent over to inspect yet another pumpkin, Keith looked around to admire the view. The plot of the farm and orchard had a lot of small hills, and Keith could see across most of them, everything glazed over in the evening sun's orange glow. Discard the family of two babies, a moody nine year old, and two parents who looked way too stressed, it was a perfect view. Keith regretted not bringing his phone or camera. This would’ve made a nice picture.

He glanced down to make sure nothing was crawling towards him and saw a pumpkin, hopefully one that would fit Lance and Hunk’s unnecessarily high standards. He bent down to inspect it.

I mean… I guess it looks okay…

After comparing the new pumpkin, which was slightly bigger but had a small scrape, to the one he already had, Keith shifted the old one to his left hand, and attempted to pick up the new one with his right.

And before he could fully secure both pumpkins, a big ass grasshopper jumped out of legit nowhere and landed on a nearby leaf, staring Keith in his tiny Galra pupils.

“Holy crap-”

Keith shrieked, fell to the ground in a mess of vines, and dropped the new pumpkin, managing to let the old one just roll out of his grasp and hit Lance in the back. He turned around, both irritated and concerned.

“Keith, are you okay? What happened?” Lance turned to pick up the pumpkin, then scooted over to investigate with narrowed eyes.

Keith scrambled to his knees and searched the leaves in front of him frantically, looking for the bug he had seen. “There was a very, very big grasshopper over here. I don’t know where it went.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s probably not that big, Keith. That’s-”

His eyes caught sight of the insect staring at both of them. “Wow, that is kinda big.”

Keith squeaked again and cowered behind Lance, peeking at the grasshopper from above his shoulder. “I told you it was big.”

Lance smirked evilly (like cartoon villain evil), and, to Keith’s horror, picked it up. Lance didn’t really mind grasshoppers much, and they didn’t seem to mind him. He was kind of fond of them. His smirk grew even wider as he turned around and held his hand out to Keith.

“What, are you scared of a tiny grasshopper, Keith?”

“What, no!” Despite his useless and rather girlish protest, Keith still shied away from Lance and the grasshopper.

“Come on, Keith. Look at this tiny little guy! Isn’t he adorable?” Lance brought the grasshopper, who surprisingly didn’t jump away yet, up to his face and cooed at it. “Who’s a good little grasshopper? You are! Yes, you are!”

Keith cringed at Lance’s antics, then scoffed. “Yes they are.”

Keith remembered the first grasshopper he’d seen. It was nice, at first, and Keith had held it in his palm. Half an hour later, it jumped onto his burger at a cookout and he accidentally ate it. He was convinced that the grasshopper was evil. He didn’t go outside for a week after that.

Lance pouted. “Come on, just hold him! For a tiny bit! Please?”

Those dAMN puppy eyes.

Keith caved quickly, and Lance eagerly handed him the insect, smiling as if he just won the lottery. He took the grasshopper carefully, hands shaking slightly as he held it at arm’s length.

And honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. The last time Keith had held a grasshopper, it had jumped in his face and he may have freaked out. Or not. But this one just stood, or sat, or whatever on Keith’s palm and stared deep in his pitch black soul. It didn’t jump on his face, or hop away. Keith found himself smiling a little at it. Maybe they weren’t as bad as he thought.

“Aw, look at you, bonding with a grasshopper.”

Keith shot Lance a dirty look, reminding him that he’s gonna kill him later for lying about that one moment. Lance quickly broke the tension.

“Hey, can we adopt him?”

“No!”

“Can I name him Bert? Or Scrappo? Ooh, or Rose? Can I please name him Rose?”

1,049 words

[immabethehero]

Mirabel and Bruno?

Bruno has two wolves inside of him. One is begging him to do the right thing: to keep his sweet little mariposa sobrina Mirabel out of danger, to wrap her up in a little cocoon of love and happiness, to be her shield against all the bad forces of life. The other one wants him to just give into her puppy dog eyes and let her slide down the hill in her little homemade sled.

Finally, he kneels down at her eye level and says in a serious tone: “Your parents would not want you to be doing such a dangerous activity at such a young age.”

Her face drops. Bruno smiles. “Good thing I’m a tío.” He chuckles as Mirabel lights up and holds her hands out, wanting him to join in her fun.

“Ay, Mirabel, I don’t think we can both fit!” Bruno protests with a nervous laugh. Mirabel huffs and moves closer to the front of the sled to give him room. Big mistake. Immediately she begins tearing down the hill, screaming.

Bruno’s heart skips three or more beats (he’s not counting) as he begins running after Mirabel. It’s a sight to see, the “scariest” man in the Encanto running like an evil 60’s cartoon magician after a little girl on a sled. His ruana flows behind him like a phantom’s cape. 

“MIRABEL! HANG IN THERE I’M COMING!” Bruno shrieks. He’s so caught up in making sure Mirabel is still standing that he doesn’t even notice the rock he’s about to trip over-

“EYIII-” Bruno flips onto his side and begins rolling down the hill, getting tangled in his ruana, bouncing and rolling down like a barrel of hay, screaming all the way.

“WHEEEEEEEE!!!!” squeals Mirabel, forgetting all about letting her uncle join in on the fun. The wind makes her hair fly behind her, her cheeks flap from the force, she feels like she can fly! Her glasses act as her goggles, keeping her from completely squeezing her eyes shut. She recalls her tío mentioning a thing called “airplanes” recently, is this what it’s like to be on one? If so, she loves it.

Speaking of her favourite old person in the whole wide world, is he still following her? She turns around to see how her tío is holding up. She gasps and yells, “WATCH OUT FOR THE TREE!”

Bruno hears her too late, and slams into the trunk of a tree, finally stopping his fall. He wheezes in pain as the wind is knocked out of him. That will definitely leave a bruise. He pushes himself up on shaky arms and glances at Mirabel. He double-takes. She’s about to crash into a tree as well!

“WATCH OUT FOR THE TREE!” he screams. Mirabel turns around-

THUD! The sled crashes against the tree trunk and Mirabel’s face follows not long after. Bruno cries out in horror and scrambles over to her, tripping over both rocks and his own legs as he stumbles down. He grabs Mirabel’s face and is horrified to see blood dripping down her face, a new cut on her forehead. Her glasses are broken and slide off her bruising cheek, the lenses are cracked. She’s lucky they didn’t shatter in her eyes.

“Miercoles, are you okay, Mirabel?!” Bruno frets. He gets a tiny thumbs up from the girl as she smiles, showing her teeth. A tooth has fallen out in the chaos. Great.

“Can we do that again?” Mirabel asks.

“Absolutely not,” Bruno says. Mirabel pouts. Bruno shakes his head and smiles. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

Five minutes later, Mirabel chomps on an empanada while Bruno cleans the blood off her face with a cloth. The glasses sit beside Mirabel on the counter, the lenses cracked and the frame crooked and bent. She’ll have to get new ones.

“¿Te sientes mejor?” Bruno asks. Mirabel nods. She then turns to her glasses.

“Ay, lo siento,” Bruno mutters. “How about we go see the optometrist? I’m sure he has an extra pair.”

Mirabel nods and hops off the counter. Casita tosses her shoes to her. She grabs Bruno's ruana while he picks up her glasses and pockets them.

“Tío Bruno?”

“Hm?”

“Promise you won’t tell Abuela?” Mirabel whispers. Bruno gives her a puzzled look. Mirabel shares almost everything with Alma. How is this any different?

“Why are you asking me this?”

Mirabel hides her face in his ruana and whispers in the smallest voice ever, “This is the third pair I breaked.”

Bruno nearly chokes. The third?! “Wha- What happened the first two times?”

“The first was when I tried sliding down Casita’s bannister,” Mirabel explains. “The second time was when Camilo’s soccer ball flew into my face.”

“Oh… uh…” Bruno scrambles for words. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

Mirabel giggles. “Deal! Thanks, Tío Bruno, you’re such a good friend. I hope we never stop being friends.”

Bruno suddenly stops to bend down and give Mirabel another hug. “Do you think we’ll stop being friends? Of course not! No matter what happens, we stick together! You need anything, you come to me, Mariposa! I’m not going anywhere!”

Mirabel, unsure what to think of Bruno’s emotional word dump, simply hugs him back, content to be with her favourite person in the world.

*

“And that’s the story of how Mirabel broke her third pair of glasses,” Bruno says, beaming. 15-year-old Mirabel can only hide her face in her hands as her sisters and cousins laugh.

“OK, ok, I get it! I was more rebellious and reckless as a kid!” Mirabel protests, smiling.

“What, you think you improved over the years?” Isabela snarks. “Because last time I checked, hermanita, you were climbing into walls to find missing tíos and you made me sprout weird plants.” Beside her, Luisa and Dolores snort with laughter.

“Ha ha, funny,” Mirabel says.

“Welp, I’m off to zipline on my vines, anyone want to join me?” Isabela says, standing up.

Almost all hands go up. Isabela cackles with excitement and leads the way to her room.

Bruno gets up to go read in his room, only for Mirabel to grab his arm. He turns to her, puzzled.

“Thanks for never telling Abuela about my glasses,” she whispers to him, giggling. “And… for being a good friend, even after ten years apart.” Bruno smiles.

“Thanks for remaining friends with me after all these years,” he responds, embracing his niece. Mirabel warmly returns the hug.

When they pull out of the hug, Mirabel asks, “So… wanna join us in our ziplining races?”

“As your tío, I say that is a hazard to your physical wellbeing,” Bruno says in a stern tone. His serious face lasts for a second. “Also as your tío, I say it sounds dangerous, I’m in!”

:D First request complete! Prompts: “Do you think we’ll ever stop being friends?” “Sounds dangerous, I’m in”

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

I’ll leave what I’m chasing - Part 2

I hope people like the name (and that my research was right)

(AO3 link)

“How long did she say she’d be?” It’s not the first or even the second time Robert’s asked that since they stopped talking and he’s been pacing ever since Aaron had told him Sarah was bringing them home.

“An hour, but knowing Seb he’s conned her into buying ‘just one more cookie Ganma’ or an extra go on the swings. He’s got her wrapped round his little finger and she loves it. Why don’t you sit down.” He does, replacing the pacing with twisting the corner of the cushion in his fingers. “Robert, it’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that. What if Seb doesn’t remember me, or the baby hates me.”

“Now you’re being daft. Seb knows exactly who you are, he has a photo right beside his bed, and your Mum has our wedding photos on nearly every surface. We talk about you loads. As for Ana she doesn’t have it in her to hate you.”

“He calls her Ganma? Mum?”

“Oh. Yeah, we were going with Grandma weren’t we, and my Mum was Nana. R’s were a bit of a struggle for a while so Ganma it is.”

“Speaking of your Mum, I thought there’d be a welcoming committee or something. A few pitchforks maybe.” He tries to smile, but Robert really doesn’t know how he’s hit the nail on the head. Thankfully he’s saved by the sound of Sarah’s key in the lock, and Robert jumping to attention at the sound.

“Later.” He rests a hand on Robert’s shoulder as he heads to the door to see Sarah struggling with the pushchair and a bouncing Seb. “Just how much of a sugar rush are we going to be suffering later?”

“Oh hush.” She glances past his shoulder. “Everything ok?”

“Getting there.”

“Good. Right, well I’ll leave you to it. Robert, come round later, we’ll have a chat, ok?” With that she’s gone, leaving Aaron to lift Ana from the buggy.

“Seb, mate, stop jumping a sec, you’re making me dizzy.” He glances over his shoulder to see Robert frozen into place, just staring at the three of them. “There’s someone here to see you. Do you remember we talked about Daddy Robert coming home?”

Robert’s still just standing there and Seb’s pulling back on his hand as he tries to convince him to go closer. Seb’s shy with anyone new and as much as they’ve talked about him, it’s still strange for him that he’s stood in front of him and Aaron’s willing him to actually move and speak to his son.

“You want to say hello? It’s ok mate.”

“You said he was far ‘way.”

“I know and he was but he’s home now, see, and I think he would really like a hug because he’s missed you so much.”

“And Ana?”

“Yeah. So what do you say?” Seb looks between him and Robert a few times before all but launching himself at Robert who barely manages to catch him as he barrels into his legs. He watches them for a bit, pressing a kiss to Ana’s head.

It still felt slightly surreal, that Robert was here, that they were all together and he feels the tears start to run down his cheeks, Ana’s little hands patting them. “It’s ok sweetheart, I’m not sad. You want to meet your Daddy, huh?”

Robert’s got Seb on his hip, the little boy babbling away in his ear, trying to tell him everything he knows in ten seconds flat.

“Seb, can I borrow Daddy a minute? So he can say hi to Ana?”

“Ok, but he has to watch my ‘toons with me.”

“I would love to.” Seb nods, satisfied and runs off to switch on the TV. Robert’s staring at Aaron, a slightly bemused look on his face. “He’s amazing.”

“Yeah. He’s got over everything so well, better than I thought. Better than me on some things.” It’s stupid, but he feels nervous, introducing Robert to his daughter. He’d not said much as he’d told him all the little things about her before they came home, has no idea what he’s thinking. “And this is Ana. Sweetheart, this is your Daddy Robert. I’ve told you all about him eh?”

“Ba!”

“Hi.” His eyes are shining with tears as he takes her in his arms and the tension seems to fall out of him. “Hi little Ana. Aaron she’s gorgeous.”

“Eh, she’s alright I suppose.”

“Where did her name come from? I expected...well with your lot I wasn’t really sure what to expect.”

“I didn’t want the usual biblical name, although apparently it’s a hebrew name, but that’s not why I chose it. It’s also the Spanish form of Anna which was as close to Annie as I could get without actually taking your Gran’s name.” He, Vic and Sarah had gone to Spain when news came of Annie’s death and he was a little stunned to find one of their wedding photos on her mantelpiece. He’d known Robert had kept in touch but he’d never mentioned telling her about them, but clearly he had.

“Aaron...I…”

“You weren’t here, but she deserved to have part of you.” Robert doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just staring at her before he hands her back to Aaron and makes his way to the door. “Robert, wait!”

*****

“Robert! What are you doing? You can’t do that!” He catches up with him halfway up the hill behind the village, the wind swirling round them making him wish he’d thought to grab his coat as he’d hurriedly knocked on Sarah’s door asking her to watch the kids.

“Go home Aaron.”

“No! You’re not doing this again. Eighteen months I’ve waited for you. I accepted you cutting me off, I put up with it, but you’re not doing it again. Talk to me!”

“I don’t deserve it. Any of it.” He slumps down onto one of the rocks jutting out of the earth, still wet from the rain and Aaron can’t help but wince a little.

“What are you talking about, of course you do.”

“I don’t. I have a little girl Aaron and she doesn’t know who I am, because I was so stupid. I let her down. I let Seb down. The one thing I promised I would never do to my children.”

“So, what? The solution to that is to let them down again by running away?”

“No I...I just wanted some air. It’s all just...a lot I guess.” He smiles that little half smile of his that always drives Aaron a little crazy.

“Yeah, it is. It was for me and I didn’t have a daughter to meet. Maybe I should’ve waited, let them stay with your Mum for the night, let you get yourself used to being out a bit more.”

“No. I wanted to see them. I s’pose it just hit me how stupid I was. I let myself get caught up in everything even when you told me to stop. I should’ve listened, I should’ve…” He covers his face with his hands and all Aaron can do is hold him as he cries. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, and we’ll talk some more, but it doesn’t have to be right now. Hey, come on, it’s over now. You’re home, with me, and your family.” He shivers in the wind. “You had to find the coldest bit of the village to come to didn’t you.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Want to head back? Don’t want to be late for Seb’s cartoons.” Robert nods and Aaron gets to his feet, grimacing at the state of his jeans. “I will warn you that you won’t hear any of them because he’ll talk all the way through about everything and anything. Remember when you were worried that he wasn’t talking? He got over that and then some.”

“I can’t wait.” He still seems hesitant though, a little lost.

“You know, it’s ok if you need to go off, be on your own or whatever, but just tell me. When you ran out, it scared me.”

“I promise.” He takes hold of Aaron’s hand, grip firm, and smiles as they start to make their way back to the village. “You still haven’t told me how Mum came to be living in our other flat. Last I knew she was happy up in Whitby.”

“She was, but when Ana arrived I struggled a bit and needed some help. She was early and I wanted to stay with her so your Mum came up to help with Seb. I think she was having so much fun she didn’t want to go home. She was staying with Vic, but they had a few disagreements about Luke which made things difficult so when Liv moved back to Dublin it just made sense for her to move in.”

“And she hasn’t taken over? Because I know she has trouble taking no for an answer when it comes to family.”

“No. We’re getting on fine. I wouldn’t have coped without her.” The truth was he’d asked her to stay but he can’t get into that without telling Robert everything that’s been going on with his family, and he doesn’t want to get into that right now. He’d felt so alone, a new baby to cope with and making sure Seb didn’t feel left out, without any help. Sarah had been a godsend.

“Sure you would. Your lot must’ve been there. A new baby, they’d be over the moon.”

“Yeah, well, they’ve all had a lot on.”

“Aaron, what’s going on. That’s the second time you’ve blown off my question about your family. Don’t get me wrong I’m happy my Mum’s here and that the two of you are getting on so well but there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Not today, eh? Today I just want to enjoy having my husband back.”

“And you definitely want that? Me, I mean.”

“I don’t trek all the way up here for just anybody you know. I never wanted anything else you know that.” Robert looks away, guilt all over his face. “Hey stop looking like that. I know why you did it, and I understood, I’m just saying that there was never a question whether I’d want you back.”

“So what now?”

“Now we go home, watch cartoons with our son and play with our daughter. Everything else can wait.”

[jumbojamba47]

I Love You

Pt. 2 of Guest Room

A/N: Thank you for loving my little ball of garbage enough to warrant a second part. I’m feeling warm and fuzzy. Also... I kinda.. sorta.. really got carried away with this. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Shout out to my irl friends who had to deal with my gleefully rubbing my grubby little paws together all day. 

A/N PT. 2: TUMBLR QUIT BEING A BITCH AND JUST LET ME UPLOAD MY STORY IN PEACE PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU. The last try uploaded to my main and my stomach dropped out of my ass lmao. Fifth and hopefully final time. (I’m so sorry for the notifications spam for everyone I tagged)

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Stucky 

Warnings: 18+, Angst (like so much I’m sorry), Smut, Swearing, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption

Word Count: 5702

Hollow. It’s the only way she can describe the feeling of deep-seated emptiness that settles in her as she watches the quinjet disappear in the distance. What’s that noise? She casts her eyes around her surroundings when she suddenly feels a dampness on her collarbone. Reaching up a hand, she feels moisture on her face.

Oh.

The sounds were coming from her. At the realization of her sobs, pain wracked her frame with nowhere to go.

What was she thinking?

She wasn’t.

When she left Clint in a hurry, she hadn’t even paused to consider what she would say to you if she caught you. What did she feel for you? What could she have told you? Her life conditioned her to believe love was for children. She wasn’t one.

And yet…

She couldn’t deny that there was something about you that always drew her in to you. Every hidden interaction with you pulled onto all five of her senses demanding her full attention until there was only you in front of her; drawn straight into your orbit like a moon of Saturn. Each and every private encounter made it more difficult for the hardened assassin to pull herself away from you only to act unaffected by your presence in public.

Was that love?

It doesn’t matter.

You were sunlight. You were the warm embrace of home calling out to every damaged member of this family seeking acceptance for their past sins and a place to belong.

And she?

Well, she was damaged beyond repair.

She refused to be the one to tarnish your light. And she knew, if she gave in to her weaknesses, you could never really shine. You meant too much to the team. To her. A part of her could also admit to fear. Fear of what would happen if she hurt you.

If you hurt her.

She could live with never knowing what it felt like to call you hers. To hear you whisper her name in the early morning light your sweet features the first things she lays eyes on in your shared haven.

But she knew. She’d never recover if she could have you and lose you. If she were to tear her walls down, only for you to look inside and decide it wasn’t worth it.

That she wasn’t worth it.

With a steely resolve in her eyes, Natasha turned on her heels and began to make her way back towards the gym. She had a few weeks to get her head screwed on straight. She’ll lock away and bury anything she might have felt for you if given the chance. When you’re back, she’ll apologize for the hurt she’s caused you and maybe, just maybe, you’ll let her stay a part of your life.

If, along the way, she refuses to let her mind wander to thoughts of you with someone else, well, that’s her prerogative.

xxxx

You sit in heavy silence on the quinjet. Thoughts of last night’s interactions with the red-headed assassin plaguing your mind. You still feel a pang of pain when you remember her rejection. With a mental shake of your head, you resolve to table your emotions for now to focus on the mission at hand.

You’ve been tasked with leading a team to infiltrate an underground drug trafficking ring disguised as a bi-monthly art auction. Once you arrive at your destination, you’ll be allotted two months of integration and data retrieval before another team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents will be sent in to assist in the take down. You’re leading the team with Scarlet Witch and Falcon following your lead. Agent Hill was chosen to tag along strictly for backup and onsite supervision should the worst come to pass.

Sam and Maria sit up front; you can hear the sounds of quiet banter trickling back towards you while they try to respect your privacy, believing you to be mentally preparing yourself for the road up ahead. Wanda sits opposite you. Your emotions scream at her from across the jet, but she has the decency not to read your actual thoughts.

Still, she can’t help the concerned glances she sends your way.

Noticing her attention on you, you shift your body to turn towards her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I could ask you the same. Where did you disappear to last night? I tried to find you after you were pulled away by Natasha, but I couldn’t find you.”

You let out a soft sigh.

“I’m sorry. My heads been a mess lately. I didn’t mean to leave you on the dance floor like that. It was a rough night.”

A hand rises to nervously play with the hair on the back of your neck. You look to the floor.

“I also owe you a bit of an apology for how carried away I got last night. You’re amazing Wan, and I don’t want to lead you on in any way.”

She lets out a light laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, draga mea. We were just two friends who had a little too much to drink, having a little fun. No hard feelings whatsoever.”

You wince and she instantly knows that was the wrong thing to say.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener. Pietro used to say it’s because I had big ears when we were children.”

She reaches out a hand across the aisle to let it rest on your knee. After an internal debate, you decide to divulge everything to her. From your first interactions with the assassin and your instant connection to the fallout from last night.

Listening patiently, Wanda’s eyes widen slightly when you mention what the events that occurred in the ex-soviet’s room.

By the end, Wanda is livid with righteous indignation on your behalf.

“Well, she’s a fool for letting you go.” She squeezes your leg.

“I can’t claim to understand what’s going through her head, but you have to know her feelings aren’t a reflection on your worth. You are the glue that holds this team together and we all love you. Natasha, she…” she pauses, “she’s been through much. More than any of us will ever know. Her experiences have closed her off. But you’re both strong. Maybe you’re not meant to be, but I know you can bounce back from this. We have a few weeks before we’re due back and, in that time, I guarantee you we can get your spirit back up and bouncing like usual.”

“Damn right, we can!” You hear Sam interrupt from the front of the plane.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and let out a light laugh.

Yeah, things weren’t okay.

But maybe they will be.

xxxx

The mission goes off without a hitch and it does wonders for your confidence. As soon as you landed at the safehouse, you and your team had set to work securing the perimeter and preparing for your upcoming roles in the undercover mission. Sam moved first, infiltrating the ranks of the dealers as he uncovered the hierarchy of the operation and fed maria intel to pass on to headquarters. You and Wanda were posed as a wealthy young couple from new money, tasked with getting close to the heads of the drug ring in order to gain access to the final auction where you ultimately took down the entire operation with the aid of several agents.

Despite the smooth execution, you all still found yourselves with extra downtime between stakeouts and it led to the four of you growing closer. One of your favorite pastimes became group binge-watches of The Fairly Odd Parents and Wanda had taken to calling you Cosmo, the husband of her cartoon namesake.

           “ETA: 5 minutes,” called out Hill.

From your seat, you could see the compound looming over the horizon. You take in a nervous breath and release.

Next to you, Wanda can feel your apprehensive tension and takes a moment to give your hand a firm squeeze.

“You’re okay, Cosmo. Remember our talks. You have strength. You know your worth. You’ll be fine.”

You send her a grateful smile and a nod. Your fingers squeeze her back briefly before you move to stand by the doors of the ramp as you hear the jet begin to touch down.

She’s right. During your time away, you came to terms with the fact that it’s not Natasha’s fault that she doesn’t feel the same way as you do. You know you have no control over other people’s feelings, and you owed it to the both of you to face this head on, maturely.

As soon as the jet’s ramp meets the floor of the hangar, you’re met with a wall of pure muscle that really should come with a warning label. Your feet are lifted off the ground and suddenly you’re swinging in circles. You laugh as Bucky’s long hair tickles your nose.

Wait a second.

Is that?

“James Buchanan Barnes. Put me down this instant.”

He stiffens. That’s his name. That’s who he is. He is James Buchanan Barnes. Former sergeant and integral member of the Howling Commandos. The Winter Soldier. Melted down and reforged by Hydra. He was a legend. He was a nightmare. He was feared. He was… terrified.

Christ. Hearing his full name falling out of your mouth in that tone never failed to instill the fear of God into him. Not even his ma, bless her soul, could quite measure up to the intimidating aura you exuded when he knew you were ready to tan his hide.

You stood before him, hands on your hips, feet shoulder width apart, stance strong, eyebrow peaked… and deadly.

“Did you break into my room and steal my hair mask… again?”

The others stand back, watching in amusement while he starts to sweat.

“D-doll, of course not! You explicitly told m-me your room was off limits while you were go-”

You cut him off as you step closer.

“Don’t you lie to me, Barnes,” your eyes narrow and he gulps when you push your face closer to his.

“I can smell the macadamia oil, you heathen.”

Just as you’re about to launch into a lecture about respecting other people’s belongings, you’re interrupted by the sound of Steve’s voice.

“You gotta admit, at least it’s better than smelling the greasy mop he always ends up with after training.”

Your entire demeanor lightens up as you whip around to take a running leap at your favorite Man with a Plan.

“STEVIE!”

He catches you in his arms. “Good to have you back, sugar. We missed you around here.”

You hear a soft exhale of relief come from behind you.

Tilting your head back from where you’re perched in Steve’s arms, you narrow your eyes at Bucky and make a silent gesture to indicate you’re watching him. This is far from over.

He gulps.

“Well, c’mon then, we’re all dying to hear how the mission went. The others are waiting for you in the lounge.”

You stay wrapped around your friend’s dorito shaped torso but make the effort to wriggle your way around him so you’re clinging to his back like an infant koala. He rolls his eyes but does nothing to deter you, choosing to move his arms in support of your legs instead.

“Onward, my trusty steed!” you giggle.

As one, you all make your way towards the main common area, taking the time to drop off your luggage in your respective rooms as you go. Eventually, you make your way to the lounge and as you’re carried in, F.R.I.D.A.Y. blasts the loud trumpets of a herald through her speakers.

Huh, Tony must’ve upgraded her sense of humor.

Greeting the others, you use your hands in Steve’s hair like an oversized rat with a penchant for cooking to guide him towards your favorite lounge chair. Sam and Wanda move towards the kitchen to look for the good snacks they couldn’t have undercover while everyone else gathers around the remaining lounges.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Natasha hovering off to the side near Clint but you can’t quite get yourself to make eye contact yet. You wait for everyone to settle in. Wanda approaches you with two mugs of tea in her hands offering you one with a “just the way you like it, Cosmo”. It’s punctuated with a wink and she perches herself on the arm of your seat, bringing her own around to rest across the back. Her hand finds its way to your hair playing with a few strands to keep you grounded while you purposefully train your eyes away from a certain side of the room.

Wanda really did become your rock in the weeks away. While you never repeated anything from the night of your party, you fell into an easy companionship with the young mutant that led to you each being comfortable around the other. She knew how hard your return would be for you and made it her next mission to make sure you knew you had a solid support system in place.

Seeing the close interaction between the two of you, Bucky and Steve both shoot you cheeky grins and eyebrow wiggles that have you holding up a throw pillow just under Wanda’s current line of sight. She glances down, smirks and hurls the pillow at the two men using her powers, ensuring she adds a boomerang effect to ricochet off the face of one in order to hit the other stunning both of them.

“Nice!” You give her an enthusiastic high five as she wiggles her fingers at the recovering men.

“I just learned that one on the job. I have to keep practicing for muscle memory.” She states in a faux haughty tone while you snicker at the indignation on your Brooklyn Boys’ faces.

Across the room, Natasha watches you. She knew she missed you while you were away, but nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of emotions that crashed into her when she finally laid eyes on you after weeks apart. You still had the same mischievous spark in your eyes. Your nose still crinkled just the slightest bit when you laughed. Your smile could still light up an entire room like the Fourth of July.

God, she missed you.

She watches your raucous banter with the resident super-soldiers with a fond smile teasing the corners of her lips. She takes note of the casual arm slung across your shoulders, the hand tangled in your hair, and something inside of her burns. Her jaw clenches.

She’s not yours to have.

Clint nudges her shoulder with a pointed look. She realizes she’s been emitting a soft growl. Focus Romanoff! Where is your training? She strains but ultimately fixes her posture until she’s the posterchild for casual aloofness. Her best friend snickers but chooses not to comment on the slight rigidity he can see in her shoulders.

Tony claps his hands to gain everyone’s attention.

“Alright alright, Hermione’s new parlor tricks aside, we all know why we’re really here.”

In his best imitation of Fury’s gruff voice, he growls out, “Hill. Debrief report. Judgement on (y/hero/n)’s execution?”

Rolling her eyes but playing along, “All objectives executed to perfection. Leadership skills exemplary, sir!” she tosses in a mock salute.

It’s quiet before everyone breaks into cheers and congratulate you and your team on a successful job well done. You’re beaming when you hear Sam chime in with, “You better watch out Cap. (Y/l/n) could give you a run for your money as team captain. We might be shipping you to a retirement home sooner than we thought.

Your best friend grins at you with pride and mirth shining in his eyes and you feel warm inside.

“I think we could come to a truce and work together. Co-captain sound good to you doll?”

“I don’t think so Steve. I’ll leave the captaincy to you. I don’t think I could handle dragging the metal chicken wing over there back in line every day,” you respond with a laugh, sticking your tongue out at Sam. You draw out a squawk of offense and everyone bursts into laughter.

You turn your head slightly and find yourself making direct eye contact with the very same pair of vivid green eyes that still visit you in your dreams. You swallow down the rising emotions and offer her a small smile. She looks startled at first but relaxes slightly and gives you one of her own in return.

Maybe you could do this.

You spend a few more minutes catching up with the rest of the team, learning about what everyone has been up to while you were away. Checking the time, you slowly pull away from Wanda, who still has her weight resting on you, and announce that you’re going to head to your room to wash off and settle in before you have to fill out your mission reports.

Everyone bids you goodnight and you exit the room, walking the familiar pathway towards your own residence. Your ears pick up quiet footsteps behind you causing you to turn your head slightly.

A small sharp inhale escapes your lips. Your eyes betray you with a quick scan of her nervous form standing in front of you. Her hair is a little longer and the circles under her eyes are just the slightest shade darker. She still looks just as breathtaking as the day you walked out of her room. Her presence instantly brings you peace and you curse yourself under your breath.

Mentally slapping yourself, you plaster on a casual smile.

“Hey Nat. Been a while.”

You cringe.

Really? Been a while? Really?

She steps towards you, “Hi (y/n/n),” she responds softly.

“Listen I-”

“Can we-”

You both let out a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry. Go ahead, you first,” she says.

“Listen, Nat. I owe you an apology.”

She stills. What could you possibly have to apologize for? You’re not the one who broke the heart of the love of your life just because you had commitment issues.

Stop that. She’s not your love of anything.

She opens her mouth to interrupt but you press on.

“It wasn’t fair of me to try to push you into something you clearly weren’t comfortable with. You made it clear that you didn’t love me the way I loved you. I never wanted to make you feel like I would demand anything of you. You’re more than entitled to your own feelings and it wasn’t okay for me to project what I felt onto you.”

Frozen in place, her mind could only focus on two words.

Loved? Felt?

And didn’t that sting?

She can feel her throat start to constrict but she goes along with it.

Maybe it’s for the best.

“It’s okay (y/n/n). I understand where you came from and I’m partially to blame for letting things go on for as long as they did without taking your feelings into consideration.

“Friends?”

A small, okay large, part of her brain screamed in agony that this was wrong.

Instead, she smiles and nods opening her arms.

You gingerly step into her embrace, one arm comes up holding her shoulder while the other gently cups the back of her head in a familiar hold.

Her arms come up to wrap themselves around your middle, squeezing slightly.

If either of you noticed the other inhale just a little deeper, neither of you chose to comment.

xxxx

Several weeks go by and you’ve settled back into a familiar routine. Wanda has officially been adopted into you and your boys’ infamous trio and the brunette witch could often be seen joining in on your foolish antics around the compound. At first, the three made a pact to ensure you would never be exposed to prolonged periods of alone time with the woman who damaged your tender heart. Often times, you’d catch yourself alone with the assassin only for one of the others to immediately swoop in to whisk you away and drag you into some activity before you could draw each other into a prolonged conversation

It took you a few days to catch on to what your friends were doing. While the sentiment was greatly appreciated, you couldn’t miss the slight look of hurt that crossed Natasha’s face whenever you were pulled away from her. Eventually, you had to put your foot down, taking them aside one day. You told them that you loved them and appreciated their concern. But you’re an adult and you can handle your affairs well enough on your own.

They backed off but still continued to keep a wary lookout. They couldn’t help it. You were their favorite.

Your interactions with the devastatingly gorgeous avenger were still a little stunted and you both miss the longing stares you direct towards each other on occasion. Still, you’re getting better.

It still hurts sometimes but you’re okay as long as you still have her in your life. In any capacity.

You think you’re getting better. It stills hurts but you’re okay as long as you still have her in your life.

xxxx

You’re in the gym talking to Sam one afternoon as he spots you in the weights section while Natasha and Clint are sparring on the mats.

“The team’s decided to make an appearance at a new nightclub Aluminum Alloy Man bought out on a dare tonight. You in, sugar?”

You laugh at the latest nickname he’s given Stark but shake your head no.

“Sorry Sam but I’ve got a date.”

You hear a particularly loud grunt come from Clint and turn your head slightly to see Natasha apologizing while he’s doubled over catching his breath.

“Oh? Anyone we know?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes.

“With myself, you dork. I’ve been dying to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail and I finally have the downtime to sit through it. There’s a bottle of wine and a couch calling my name and I intend to capitalize.”

He laughs but nods understandingly.

“That’s fair. You good here? I better head out to get ready.”

“Yeah, yeah, you go ahead. Have fun tonight!” You wave him off wiping the sweat off the back of your neck with a damp towel.

“(Y/L/N)!” You hear your name called out from across the gym.

“Care to spar? Clint’s tapping out. He’s a wuss.”

You start to hesitate but choose to nod instead, stepping into the ring, setting your towel on the rope to dry.

You begin to circle one another assessing each other’s weaknesses. She makes the first move lashing out with a swift kick to your ankle, aiming to leave you off balance. You dodge out of the way and retaliate with a series of jabs towards her torso. This goes on for several minutes each of you landing several hits when Natasha launches herself off your bent knee, intending to use her signature thigh grip of death to bring you down.

Not today, Satan.

You bring your arms up, wedging them between your neck and her legs before she can get a grip. You latch onto her legs tightly before you swing her around your body, tackling her to the floor. You move your hand to cradle the back of her head to ensure it doesn’t smack into the ground, bringing yourself much closer to her body in the process.

You’re both panting heavily, stuck, mesmerized by the intense look in each other’s eyes. You have one leg between her thighs, knee pressed to her core, puffs of air intermingling between you.

Is she? Leaning towards you?

Oh, you definitely felt that wiggle of her hips against your knee.

You wet towel drops to the floor with a wet smack and just like that, the spell is broken.

You both scramble apart and you move to pick up the offending object.

Behind you, Natasha clears her throat sheepishly.

“So, I couldn’t help but overhear your big plans for tonight while you were talking to Wilson. Is there room for one more? I was actually planning to do the same, but I hear Monty Python is much funnier with good company.”

Everything inside of you screams that this is a terrible idea. But here’s the thing, you thrived off of terrible ideas.

“Sure, why not? We can start when everyone else heads out?”

Sure you would have declined, she brightens considerably and throws you a grin.

She starts walking backwards towards the door.

“Great! It’s a date! I mean- not a date-”

She smacks herself right into the door.

You let out a small laugh.

“I know what you meant.”

“Right. Yes. I’ll see you tonight!” She scurries out the door.

You stay standing there in the ring watching the space she just occupied.

On the other side of the door, Natasha leans heavily against the metal.

What have I gotten myself into?

xxxx

You bid goodbye to your friends and make sure to tell them to call you should they need anything. Once everyone is out the door, you turn around, inhale deeply, and set to work.

Despite everything, and your unfailing determination to not fall down the same rabbit hole, you can’t help but want to take care of Natasha in any capacity you can.

So, you take extra care to grab her favorite snacks, her go-to brand of wine, a couple glasses, and an oversized hoodie you always kept in the back of the closet, on hand just for her. She had a tendency to relax in thinner loungewear, but you knew once she settled in, she stubbornly refused to get up for anything no matter how cold she got.

As you set everything down on the coffee table in front of the oversized, plush couch in the center of the movie room, the beauty in question makes her way towards you in, surprise surprise, a thin tank top and shorts.

You roll your eyes but toss her your sweatshirt and she grins at you before hastily throwing it on, snuggling into the warmth. You both settle onto opposite sides of the couch, the wine and snacks split between you. The movie plays and you find yourselves relaxing. Like magnets, you eventually gravitate towards each other, sharing jokes and snacks, yelling at the large screen in front of you as the Black Knight stubbornly refuses to die.

Without realizing each other’s movements, she winds up leaning against you while your arm is wrapped around alternating between playing with her hair and rubbing soothing patterns across her shoulder and biceps.

You feel a shudder come from the deadly ball of fluff in your arms and only then do you realize your positions. You can’t bring yourself to move.

“Cold?”

“Yeah,” she nods. Attempting to burrow herself further into your clothes.

You pull her closer to you until her legs are resting over yours, head tucked under your chin, puffs of air tickling your sensitive neck.

Bad move (y/l/n).

You forget how to breathe. Natasha turns to look at you when she feels you still beneath her.

Oh. Oh god.

She didn’t realize how close she was to you and from this distance, she can see every detail of your ethereal beauty in the dim light of the movie lighting.

You turn your head to take a quick peak at her but suddenly you’re drowning in a sea of green. Your breath hitches when green is replaced by red and suddenly plump lips are crushing your own.

You moan and your hands scramble for purchase as the angel in your lap twists to straddle you. Fists tighten in your hair while she nips at your lower lip, close to drawing blood. She tugs at your shirt and you get the message. You desperately rip away your top while she follows suit before she pushes you onto your back spreading out on top of you.

A loud groan escapes your lips as the vixen in your arms finds the sensitive space right below your ear. Unwilling to be out done, you wrap your legs around her hips and gracefully flip yourselves over, trailing kisses down the crevice of her breasts, mapping your way down her body. Like Copernicus charting the stars. Reaching your destination, you pull apart the draw strings of her shorts with nothing but your teeth, earning a moan of approval from the writhing redhead. You smoothly slide back up her body, meeting her desperate lips in a searing kiss while your hand finds her center, already feeling the slick wetness ready for you. Natasha’s limbs fly to wrap around you as you set a steady pace pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Knowing she needs the extra push, your other hand moves to pull aside her bra before you deliver a harsh nip and a firm curl of your fingers.

She sees stars.

No.

She sees galaxies.

You continue to move, determined to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible.

You’re rewarded with the crack of her voice as she hurdles into the abyss.

“God, I fucking love you.”

It slips out of your mouth completely unbidden.

But it’s too late.

The damage can’t be undone.

Just like that, she snaps back to reality.

She hastily sits up. Your hand falls back into your lap as she quickly stands picking up her shirt.

“We can’t do this.”

“Natasha, I-”

“No.”

“Natasha, would you jus-”

“I said no!”

You feel like you’ve been here before.

She turns to make a hasty retreat, but you catch her hand in a tight grip before she can get too far.

“Why do you keep running from me? Am I so repulsive that the thought of being with me has you running for the hills?”

“Not everything is about you, (y/l/n),” she bites out.

Neither of you hear the team returning but all of them can hear the yelling coming from your direction and they run towards you.

“No. You always do this! Every time I think we’ve gotten to a good place; you freeze me out.”

“That’s the thing! We were in a good place! We were having fun. We had each other when we needed it and nothing more! We were so good like that. We can still be like that!”

Tears fill your eyes.

“It’s not enough.”

“Why can’t this be enough?!” she cries.

“This has to be enough,” she whispers looking at anything but you.

A hand moves to grip hers gently. The other rises to cup her chin to guide her eyes to yours.

“This could be so much more. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Staring into your eyes, she can see you dying a little more inside the longer she stays silent.

She pulls away from you.

Okay.

You thought you could be fine with just floating in her orbit. Maybe you underestimated how long it would take for you to heal enough to allow it. Or maybe you couldn’t do this at all.

Your head tilts towards the floor. Your lips break into the softest, most heart-breaking smile she’s ever seen.

“I’m always going to love you Natasha Romanoff. But I owe it to the both of us to know this won’t be enough for me. This can’t be enough for me.”

A whimper is caught in her throat but she can’t bring herself to move when you step back away from her.

“I love you. I don’t want to,” you breathe out.

Natasha swears she hears something inside her shatter.

“I’m sorry I don’t give you the strength you need to pursue your own happiness. I really hope you find someone who does. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

You make me happy.

Just say it!

Her body screams in protest with every fiber of her being.

“Bye Tasha.”

You turn and only then do you realize that the two of you aren’t alone.

Wanda steps forward. She wraps her arms around your shoulders as she leads you away throwing a glare at the assassin.

Natasha takes a step in your direction.

“(Y/n) wait-”

She stopped by a metal arm blocking her way.

“Haven’t you done enough?” Bucky growls.

“And what do you know about what I’ve done?” She shoves him away.

“I know you hurt them! AGAIN!” he snarls, “You need to get your shit together before I’ll even THINK about letting you come anywhere NEAR (y/n) again, Romanoff.”

Her blood boils. She scoffs, “Big surprise, their guard dog immediately snaps to attention at the first sign of trouble. Tell me Barnes, does your master feed you well?”

She regrets her outburst immediately, but she’s too angry, too frustrated, too exhauseted to take it back.

“Don’t forget who trained you, Natalia,” comes out in a menacing hiss.

Frantically, Clint’s eyes snap from her to the ex-soldier advancing on her. He immediately steps between the two, placing a hand on her arm and turning towards the larger assassin.

“Whoa now, you know she didn’t mean that. Emotions are just running high right now. Let’s all take a step back. I could use a hand, Cap.”

Despite his own roiling emotions, he needs to maintain his professionalism as team captain, releasing a heavy puff of air, he moves to place a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder, pulling him to his side.

“Clint’s right. We can’t do anything to fix this right now. Everyone, disperse. We’ll regroup in the morning.” He sends a piercing glare at the redhead.

Hearing another growl, Clint whips his head back around, “As entertaining as it would be to make a compound wide betting pool with Tony on a wwe rumble between you and two tag-teaming super soldiers, maybe we should take a second to cool off outside, yeah” he hisses at her.

Gritting her teeth, she nods, allowing Clint to pull her down the hall and out the door.

As she catches a glimpse of the hall leading to your room, all she can think is one thing.

She let you slip through her fingers… again.

Tagging some incredible people who expressed an interest in pt. 2:

guys im so fucking sorry this keeps showing up in your mentions.

@natasha-danvers , @thelastavenger-3000 , @ohfuckno , @imnotasuperhero

[avengerscompound]

Running to a Standstill - 10

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1882

Rating:  E

Warnings: nothing much

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers.  While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 10

It wasn’t until the following day that Steve and the other’s finally returned from their mission.  Bucky couldn’t remember ever feeling so excited before.

He was apprehensive and scared, but those emotions were the ones that he often felt the most to the point that they’d become dulled.  Like a drug addict who needed more and more heroin to feel high, it took a big bad before he truly felt fear.  Excitement though?  Excitement was rare and it gave him a high that kept him running until he got word that the Quin was coming into land.

He had no idea what Steve would do.  There were options that could be good or bad and Steve would be well in his right to pick any of them in the pursuit of his own happiness.  But that unknown was almost adding to the excitement.  As was the potential that this could actually lead to something good for him.  That he might actually get to have some love and intimacy, even if he didn’t quite think he deserved it yet.  Just the thought of Steve’s lips on his, or your hands raking through his hair made him shiver and his cock twitch.  He thought if it actually happened he might just explode.

He went up to the landing pad in time to catch Steve and the other’s disembarking.  He approached Steve with Hill, and he immediately went into debriefing mode.  “We found a supply of the drug there,” Steve said, handing a little baggy over to Hill without breaking his pace.  “Have it analyzed.  The guy who sold it to Clint said it can give you powers but how they express varies.  He also said you needed to take them in order.  Red pill to get the powers, blue to turn them off.  Apparently, if you don’t take the blue you can go into cardiac arrest and your lungs stop working.”

“And people are taking these as what?  Recreation?  Fight club?” Hill asked as the group got on the elevator.

“From what I gleaned off people it’s a mixture.  Having powers gives people a high.  I can attest to that from when I was given mine when they first kick in it’s like all your synapsis start firing at once,” Wanda said.  “But there are underground groups where people take them and then fight each other.  There’s even an enhanced prostitution racket happening.”

The elevator stopped and opened up onto the armory.  Steve, Clint, Sam, and Natasha all started putting their weapons and armor back into its place.  Steve began to strip off parts of his suit and handing them back in his locker.  “Thank you, Wanda,” he said to the young woman who was standing back trying not to watch as everyone stripped off in front of her.  “Go get some rest and food.  We’ll debrief this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Steve,” she said and headed back to the elevator.

“Do we know the source?”  Hill asked as Sam, Natasha, and Clint headed into the showers.

“Take a look at the pills,” Steve said.

Hill picked up the baggy and turned the pills around in the bag.  Bucky looked over her shoulder and saw the small image of the skull with tentacles coming out of it.  “So it is HYDRA?” He said.

“Well, we can’t say for sure,” Steve said, gesturing back to the elevator.  “Wanda didn’t pick anything up from the sellers indicating they were HYDRA.  So it could just be someone thinking that packaging it like that will make it more exciting to buyers,” he explained as he, Bucky, and Hill got onto the elevator.  “But it’s a potential lead.  The problem is from what Wanda and Clint came back with was either a mass group conspiracy that the government of Madripoor is supplying the drugs to the citizens or more concerning, that is what’s actually happening.”

“So we need to send in some undercover operatives?”  Hill asked.

“Absolutely,” Steve said.  “Honestly it was my mistake to not have started with that.  So if you could select some agents to do a deep cover operation, and get that to the lab, Hill. I just need to shower and get something to eat and I’ll meet in my office in an hour.”

“You’ve got it, Cap,” Hill said as the elevator stopped.

Bucky followed Steve out and down to the hall.  “I know you want an answer, Buck,” Steve said.  “I want to talk to both of you.”

Bucky rarely had any trouble hiding his emotions, but right now he was buzzing.  “We wanted to talk to you too.”

Steve glanced at Bucky through the side of his eye and unlocked his door.  You were inside at the table eating a sandwich while Geo seemed to be wearing most of a can of Spaghettios.  You looked over when they stepped inside and Geo bounced in his seat.  “Steeb!”  He cheered and scrambled off running over and holding his hands up.  You got up and seemed to move forward and then backed up, eventually settling on going into the kitchen.

“Hey, Geo,” Steve said, hesitating a little before picking the little boy up.  “You’re very messy.”

“Sorry,” you said.  “He likes to try and put the bits of spaghetti on his fingers.  Can I get you anything?  You must be hungry.”

“It’s alright,” Steve said.  “Sit.  I can get myself something.”

You hesitated again before going and taking your seat.  “How did it go?  Did you find anything?”

“Yes and no,” Steve said, putting Geo back in his chair and kissing leaning down to kiss your cheek.  “We’ve got a trail.  We’re going to need to put some undercover operatives on it.”

You nodded and your eyes flicked to Bucky.  Bucky gave a nod and as Steve went into the kitchen you let out a breath.  “Steve,” you said, a slight tremble to your voice.  “I know you ran off yesterday because you didn’t want to confront either of us.  That you had a choice to make and it was hurting you to make it.”

“About that,” Steve said as he pulled out some ingredients for a sandwich. “I know that was a really horrible thing to do.  I’m sorry.  I just needed time to think and I should have spoken to you both first.”  He looked over at Bucky. “You want a sandwich?”

“Thanks,” Bucky said.  His heart was hammering and he was glad you were taking the lead, because he had no idea how to bring up. It was hard enough admitting he was in love with Steve in the first place.

“We were talking…” you said.  “When you were away…”

“Yeah?”  Steve asked.  “I know you both must be angry with me, and you’re in your right.  But if you can just hear me out…”

“Steve,” Bucky said.  “Can you let us go first?”

Steve seemed to blanch, and Bucky could just picture the kinds of things that must be going through his head.  Top of them was probably that you’d both decided you didn’t want him anymore.  Bucky wanted to let Steve speak, just so he wouldn’t panic but if he did and he made a choice it would be too late.  That would be it.  He would have made his call about which person he liked more and the other would always feel like they were playing catch up.

“Right,” Steve said, standing frozen in place. “Sure.”

“How would you feel about… dating both of us?”  You said, your face scrunching up as you spoke.  “You know... polyamory?”

Steve started at the two of you with his jaw dropped.  Geo started opening and closing his hands as he held them over his head and you got up without thinking and started to use some wipes to clean him up.  Bucky felt as frozen as Steve was.  He should have known better.  Steve was a traditional guy.  This was never going to work for him.  Why Bucky even thought for one second he might…

Slowly Steve started laughing.  It was quiet at first and it just got louder and louder.  Bucky blinked at him in shock.  “What’s so funny?”  Bucky said.

“That was what I was going to say,” Steve said.

“You what?”  Bucky asked.

Steve wiped a tear from his eye and went back to making sandwiches.  “I swear to god, Buck,” Steve said.  “Natasha bailed me up on the mission and made me tell her what was bothering me and she said that there was no reason why I had to be monogamous if there were two people who loved me if those two people loved each other.  And you do right?  I’ve seen it.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky agreed.  “We do.”

“So,” you said, standing up with Geo on your hip.  “We’re going to actually do this?”

Steve nodded.  “I guess we have … boundaries we need to discuss but … yeah.  If you both want that, and I want it… what’s stopping us.”

You took Geo over to the couch and turned the TV on for him, putting on some cartoons before returning to the kitchen.  Steve pulled you close to him and hugged you tightly.  “I don’t think there’s anything stopping us,” you said, hugging him back.  “I have spent so long now living in fear and not letting myself be happy.  I’m gonna take it.”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, breathing you in as he held you.  Bucky stood watching, knowing that he was now part of this, and if he could just will his legs to move, he could be part of it too.  Steve would draw him in close and the three of you would be hugging.  Instead, he just watched like an outsider.

You slowly pulled back and looked up into Steve’s eyes.  He smiled down at you and caressed your cheek with his thumb.  “Okay.  I really need to eat and shower and we can talk a little now, but I have to get back and sign some paperwork, plus we still have to do the debrief.  But how about we ask Tony and Pepper if they’d like to babysit and I take the two of you out tonight.  You know he loves having Geo around.”

“I think that sounds really good,” you agreed.  “But first, I think there might be a kiss that’s been 70 years in the making.”

Steve looked over to Bucky and held out his hand as you stepped back from him.  “What do you say, Buck?  Think it’s time we actually act for a change.”

Bucky approached Steve slowly, his heart hammering in his chest.  When he was close enough, Steve took his right hand and pulled him close.  Bucky leaned in a little.  He hadn’t kissed anyone since before he fell from that train.  The fact his first kiss was going to be Steve - his Steve - was terrifying and exciting all at once.  It was going to change everything between them.  Steve bridged the difference, and Bucky didn’t close his eyes until the last second, afraid that Steve would change his mind and he’d just be left hanging like an idiot.

Bucky closed his eyes and the soft press of Steve’s lips touched on his, Bucky hummed and relaxed into the change.

// NEXT

[giveemhales]

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 10/?

For @averystereksummer Day 6

AU where Stiles has a fear of storms

For the prompt: “How’s the weather?”

With a ficlet! Content warning for anxiety and panic attacks.

Stiles was afraid of storms.

Maybe that’s putting it wrong, because there’s a lot of things Stiles was afraid of that he could deal with. Really, he had a fear of storms, “astraphobia.” He hated it.

He wished he could say there was a reason. That his mother died on a stormy night or that the thunder reminds him of gun shots.

But there was no rhyme or reason. It was nothing more than a phobia, an anxiety disorder, an evolutionary flaw.

He’s always been good at hiding it, though. When he was younger, he hid it because he was made fun enough as is, he didn’t want to give any other material for his bullies to work with. Not even Scott ever figured it out. He could usually handle rain, but when there was thunder, he’d always make an excuses to go home, whether he was at school or on a sleepover. He’d usually say he was sick, and his mother was understanding enough that she’d be willing to take him home. She would build them a blanket fort and put on way too loud cartoons to help drown out the noise. Sometimes she would hold him closely, and remind him the thunder couldn’t hurt him, and that she would always protect him.

Then his mother died, and his fear got worse. It wasn’t just that storms were harder to handle without his mother, it was also the way his mental health had deteriorated after her death. His anxiety was significantly worse, and things that once scared him would now trigger full blown panic attacks.

His father got him a therapist to help him, but the therapist was mostly focused on his grief and how to handle his panic attacks. He had coping mechanisms now, but he still tried to avoid being out when there was a storm at all cost. Avoidance wasn’t necessarily healthy, but it was what worked for him. He continued to claim illness, and would curl up under the covers, blasting music through his earbuds.

He had even managed to hide this fear from the pack, which he’d say was pretty impressive considering most of the members could quite literally smell fear.

He religiously checked the weather every day, using multiple sources for the daily and weekly forecasts. If there was a forecast for a thunderstorm at any point, he’d make up plans (which was difficult when dealing with people who can hear when you’re lying, but he had perfected the art of half truths, always using something like “having homework” or “wanting to see his dad,” which were all technically true). So far, he’d only been outside in a thunder storm with the pack once, and they were fighting wendigos so they didn’t really question his scent of fear or him running off to his Jeep as soon as the creatures were declared dead. That was one of the few times in his life he had been unable to avoid being outside during a thunderstorm, and the resulting panic attack had been so bad he hadn’t been able to go to the school the next day (which was easy enough to get away with, since the rain had also resulted in a cold).

He’s not really sure why he spends so much time and energy hiding this fear like it’s a dirty secret. Maybe part of it was that he knew he couldn’t avoid thunderstorms, but he could try to avoid being around people during thunderstorms. It gave him something to focus on, a feeling of control.

Honestly though, he knew it was mostly his own insecurities. He was at a good place with the pack, and he doesn’t really think any of them would be malicious if they were to find out. But he knew that he was just human, that he was weaker than the rest of them, and he strived everyday to prove he could keep up. He couldn’t show any weaknesses because he couldn’t let them know he was weak.

So he had basically perfected the art of keeping his phobia hidden away from the rest of the world.

But one of the worst things about storms was that you don’t always know when they’re coming. And that’s what led to his current predicament.

He was in the car with Derek after they had met with a pack outside of town. The pack was new to the area and hoping to make an alliance. With Derek the alpha and Stiles the emissary, it was customary for the two of them to make negotiations.

The meeting had been fine. A simple agreement had been made and then Derek and Stiles made the hour long drive back to Beacon Hills, specifically to Derek’s loft where Stiles’ Jeep was waiting.

Derek had insisted that they drive together, and had refused to go in Stiles’ “death trap” (more like because he was a dick), so Stiles was now seated in the passenger side of the camaro. And that was fine, Stiles honestly enjoyed spending time with Derek. But it was about half an hour outside of Beacon Hills that he noticed the grey clouds.

Stiles had checked multiple weather sources that morning like he always did, and none of them had mentioned a chance of storms. A couple had mentioned a chance of rain that night, but it was still afternoon. There was no reason to expect a risk of storms.

But Stiles had obsessively studied storms enough to know what storm clouds looked like. And right now there were definitely storm clouds in the direction of Beacon Hills.

Fuck.

“How’s the weather? I mean, do you know? I feel like with your special werewolf senses you should be able to tell. You know, smell when a storm is coming. That would actually be pretty cool, it would make you a great meteorologist. Although meteorologists aren’t as bad as people make them seem. They actually have a 90% accuracy five days in advance. And on the actual day are usually within 2.5 degrees in their predictions. That’s pretty impressive. But obviously they don’t always get it right. Clearly, since they hadn’t said there would be rain today and-“

“Stiles!” Derek barked, cutting him off. “No, I can’t “sense” the weather. But from those clouds over there I’d say it’s probably going to rain.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Looks like it. That’s cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.”

Derek side-eyed him, but at this point he was used to Derek’s seemingly constant annoyance with him.

His leg began bouncing, as it usually did when he was nervous. Derek was clearly annoyed, but fortunately didn’t say anything.

A couple minutes later, the drizzle began, and Derek turned on the windshield wiper. Stiles looked down at his phone which had the directions. Still 20 minutes to go. He desperately hoped that they would get back before any thunder started, but it seemed unlikely.

Stiles leaned over and began fiddling with the radio. He eventually found a station playing heavy metal, and turned it up as loud as it would go, hoping it would be enough should there be any thunder.

Derek cursed and immediately shut off the radio. “What the fuck is your problem, did you forget about the werewolf hearing?” He grumbled, pawing at his ears with one hand still on the wheel.

“Just wanted some music, you’re so quiet, you know. Thought we could liven things up.”

Derek just growled in reply, which was pretty par for the course for him, so Stiles didn’t bother saying anything else.

Pretty soon, the rain started getting heavier, pouring down loudly on the windshield. Derek increased the speed of the windshield wiper, but seemed unbothered.

Stiles opened his mouth before closing it again. He honestly wanted to just explain to Derek why he was being so weird. Derek wasn’t the type to judge, and would probably even do what he could to be accommodating.

But at the same time, he couldn’t think of worse person to find out about his fear. Besides the fact that Derek was one of the strongest, bravest people he had ever met, Stiles had also been pining after him for years. He knew Derek had seen him as the hyperactive, token human, and even if Stiles now had a spark and Derek had accepted him as the pack’s emissary, Stiles didn’t want to risk revealing anything that might ruin their progress. He knew Derek would never feel the same about him as he did, and he was okay with that, but he was absolutely not okay with Derek ever viewing him as lesser. He wouldn’t, couldn’t be seen as weak.

So Stiles kept his mouth shut, and tried to just focus on anything other than the impending storm.

That worked out until the thunder came.

The first roll of thunder hit when they were about 10 minutes from the loft, and Stiles’ composure began to crumble.

He felt his heart beat quicken, his palms sweat, his breath become raggedy and stomach begin to cramp. These were standard symptoms for his anxiety, but not something he ever truly got used to.

He tried to focus on his breathing, but was interrupted by Derek.

“What’s wrong? Your heart is pounding and your breathing sounds weird,” Derek said, the concern clear in his voice. Stiles supposed that after all the terrifying shit he had been through, it would make sense that Derek wouldn’t make the connection between his fear and the thunder.

Stiles clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying to block everything out. “Nothing. I’m fine, dude,” he ground out.

He could practically hear Derek rolling his eyes, but for once he ignored the “dude” comment. “You’re clearly not fine, I can smell the anxiety rolling off you. If you’re in danger or if something’s wrong, I need to know.”

“I said I’m fine. Just drop it,” Stiles knew Derek would be able to hear the lie, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was focusing too much energy on trying to calm down to come up with a plausible lie for why he was acting the way he was.

“Please, Stiles, I just want to help you,” Derek’s voice was softer than Stiles had ever heard, and he hated the way it made his eyes tear up. He turned and rested his forehead on the window, trying to focus on the cool feeling.

Stiles was surprised Derek didn’t pry further, but instead grabbed his hand.

Stiles thought about the fact that his palms were sweaty and probably pretty gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. It wasn’t even because he had been dreaming of holding Derek’s hand for years. It was because it helped ground him.

He tried to focus on touch so he could block out the flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder. He tried to think about the warmth of Derek’s hand, and his mother’s voice when she reminded him the storms couldn’t hurt him. He counted his breaths, and reminded himself they were only a few minutes away. And as soon as they were back, he could get in his Jeep, blast his music, and try to ignore the outside world.

They arrived to the loft, and Stiles vaulted out of the Camaro before it was even in park (although a small part of him was reluctant to let go of Derek’s hand).

He ran as fast as he could to the Jeep to try to avoid the worst of the storm. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to make it to the Jeep before he was being grabbed by Derek (honestly, fuck werewolf speed, that’s just not fair).

“Stiles, I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t just let you leave if you’re in danger!”

One of the symptoms of anxiety that is less talked about is that heightened anxiety makes a person prone to emotional outbreaks. Maybe that’s why he lost it at that moment. Or maybe it had been building up for years, the anger and shame and fear finally boiling over. Or maybe he just wanted somebody to know, because he was so tired of being alone.

Whatever the reason was, Stiles finally let it all out.

“Oh my god, I’m not in danger. Nothing is going to happen to me and I logically know that but I can’t help it. I’m terrified of storms. Is that what you wanted me to say?” Stiles was yelling, even though he was sure Derek could hear him perfectly well, but he couldn’t stop. “I’m terrified of how loud the thunder is, how I can barely hear myself think over the noise. I’m terrified of lightning even though the likelihood of being struck is one in a million. I’m terrified that I can’t always prepare for storms and that I have no way to control the weather. And I know it’s a fucking stupid fear. And that’s why I’ve tried so hard to hide it. But I feel like I can’t breathe. And you probably don’t know what that’s like, you probably don’t have stupid fears and constant anxiety because you’re the bravest person I know. But you know now so please just drop it.”

Stiles was panting by the end of his rant. He wanted to turn around, to go to his car, just like he said he wanted, but the masochist in him needed to see how Derek was going to react.

“Do you really think I’ll judge you for that? You think I don’t feel afraid? I’m scared every day. I’m afraid I’m going to fail as an alpha. I’m afraid I’m going to lose everything again. Hell, I’m afraid every second I’m around you.”

“What? Why would you be afraid around me?” Stiles asked incredulously, fairly certain Derek was just making it up to make him feel better.

“Because I’m afraid I’m finally going to break and kiss you.”

Stiles isn’t sure what Derek saw in Stiles’ slack-jawed expression, but evidently it was an invitation, because the next thing Stiles knew, there were lips on his own.

Derek’s were wet from the rain, but still warm. The kiss was soft and tender, and everything Stiles had ever wanted.

Unfortunately, it was still storming, and Stiles jumped back just a moment later when there was a roar of thunder and crack of lightning.

Derek looked stricken, clearly drawing the wrong conclusion.

Stiles was quick to correct him. “As amazing as that kiss was, I can’t- I need to be alone right now.”

Derek looked relieved, and reached out to Stiles. “Do you- You’re welcome in the loft if you’d prefer.”

Stiles usually preferred to be alone during storms so no one could see his vulnerability, but the Jeep was also usually his last resort. The loft would be much quieter, so he nodded and took Derek’s hand.

Up in the loft, Derek grabbed Stiles a towel to dry himself since he was dripping everywhere. After he dried off, he went ahead and wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up on the couch. “Do you mind if I turn on the TV? Noise helps.” He was still shaking, but felt himself calming down. Hopefully if he put on the TV, he could try to forget about the storm.

Derek nodded and then paused. “I can leave if you’d like but if it would help... Would you mind if I just held you?”

After years of keeping his fears private, Stiles’ instinct was to ask him to leave. But he remembered how he would feel when his mom would hold him during storms. He remembered how his fears had quietened when Derek had kissed him. He remembered all the reasons he fell in love with Derek, and how safe he made him feel.

He nodded.

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 17 - The Same Thing

“We’re special?”

Is this… your memory?

You remember this room. This smell. This day.

This person.

This smile.

“Yes.” Pink lips pull into a nurturing smile, cream hands pinch your chubby cheeks. You have grown yes, but there is still remaining baby fat yet to be lost. “We are chosen by our Mother, Hydaelyn. She loves us very much.”

“How do you know?” your smaller self asks, playing with the blocks in your hand. It is a lazy afternoon day, the cartoons on the TV long forgotten. A girl who can be no more than seven years older than you is crouched on the floor by your side, handing you more blocks to build your budding city. Her hair is intricately braided and pulled into a spiky bun at the back of her head.

“Well...let's say that she likes me a lot, a lot,”

“You’re her favorite?” you interrupt, dropping your blocks and pouting.

“No, no! She does not have favorites; she loves both you and I equally.” The girl whispers, giving you a boop on the nose. “She just gave me an important job to do.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” You ask, eyes wide as saucepans.

“To take care of you silly!” The girl scoops you up in her arms and spins you around, your childish laughter filling the room. The memory makes you smile, until the sky is suddenly black and the room dark. Heavy footfalls sound around you until they crash in on the room, the girl clutching you tight.

“There she is!”

“The Oracle of Light!”

“Get her!”

Tears stream down the younger you’s face, left to cry and wail in the middle of the floor next to your abandoned blocks as the girl is dragged away by unseen forces. Thunder crashes, rain pours, the nightmare falls apart--

“Minfilia! Don’t go…!”

“Honey!”

As your eyes focus, you find Estinien’s staring right back, his eyes concerned and wary, his hands pinning your arms to your sides. The last vestiges of the nightmare ebb away, your body slowly grounding itself back in reality once more. “I…”

Frowning, Estinien heaves out a humorless laugh before finally releasing you, falling short of collapsing on the bed as he takes a seat at the edge. A tense silence ensues, your head hung low in shame of showing such weakness. Sniffling, your skin feels tense, bringing your hands to your cheeks you realize you had been crying in your sleep.

“Are you all right?” He finally asks, looking at you from over his shoulder.

You do not answer, not immediately. You aren’t alright. You haven’t been alright for a long ass time.

“I’m fine.” You lie, despite your words to him earlier that you had not lied to him. He’s clearly not in a fighting mood, seeing fit to not call you out on it. Dressed in more casual wear now, his hair is drawn back in a low ponytail resting against his neck.

"Look. I can only be there for you if you let me." He says with just a hint of pleading to it. "You can lean on me. You don't have to do this alone."

Shaking your head, you pray for him to see the desperation in your eyes. "I don't...I'm scared something could happen to you." You admit, your voice just a breath below a whisper, hoping he can hear how genuine your fear is.

Frowning again, he curses beneath his breath. "Your ride's here. Called when you were asleep, asking why you'd been gone longer than usual." Standing to his feet, he heads to exit the room. “Your clothes are over there on the dresser for you to change into. I already packed the old ones in your bag." Saying nothing more, he leaves you alone. A lone tear rolls down your cheek, falling to the plush sheets he had wrapped you in but a few hours before. Taking a steadying breath you throw them back and swing your legs over the edge, standing to your feet.

You trudge over to the adjoined bathroom to quickly freshen up and get dressed, swishing some water around your mouth and finger combing your hair. With a fresh change of clothes, you look a little less debauched, but somehow it still feels like the walk of shame as you make your way down the stairs to the front door. Estinien has made himself scarce, and unable to tell if you should be thankful or miserable for it. Deciding not to pay it much mind, you toe on your shoes and begin your trek across the grounds, heading for the side gate to try and avoid Cid if possible. Sure enough your driver, Yuyusho, is waiting out by the car, looking somewhat worried.

"Miss Honey!" he calls running over to you. "I hadn't heard from you for so long, I had feared the worst."

Giving a strained smile, you shrug nonchalantly. "I'm sorry, Yuyusho. What did Estinien tell you?"

"He said he had hit you so hard he knocked you unconscious." Yuyusho responds, to which you tell yourself the next time you see Estinien to make sure you knock him unconscious. "Are you still feeling unwell?"

"I think he may have exaggerated a bit…" you grumble, teeth clenched in a forced smile, "but we certainly hit it harder than usual today. I'm sorry to make you worry." His genuine concern is actually refreshing, and you make a note to try and learn more about him.

"I'm just glad to hear you're all right." he beams, waddling over to the rear door and opening it for you. "We must return to the estate at once; Lord Varis is expecting you." Nodding, you step into the car, the sound of the shutting door feeling so ominous. The ride back is silent as usual, but the guilt you had felt in Estinien's arms seems to only compound with every malm you get closer to the Galvus estate.

Pulling into the driveway, you give Yuyusbo your goodbyes and head inside, readjusting your bag as you walk through the doors. What few maids are there greet you, but you pay them no mind, finding it hard to keep your head up as you make a beeline for Varis' office.

Knocking on the door, you take a deep breath, bouncing off one foot to the other.

"Enter."

Twisting the handle, you step inside, finding the Galvus patriarch sitting at his desk as usual. The same moody lighting fills the room, not a window in sight as you move to take a seat in your usual chair.

He scribbles at a few documents for a minute or two, finishing up whatever task he has been working on. Placing his pen back in its stand, he weaves his fingers together and levels you with an inquisitive look. "You are late." An observation and a statement. An accusation almost.

"I know." You answer, shoulders slumped.

He arches a brow, a smirk curling his lips. "Will you not explain the reason for your tardiness?"

Wringing your hands together, you debate on telling the truth. You don't know how Cid's robot would've jumbled the conversation and play it back when they scanned it. You would lie, but what would you even lie about?

"That is an interesting mark you have there."

Jolting up, you follow his gaze to where it is pointedly aimed at your neck. Whipping out your phone, you use the camera to sure enough find a few hickeys on your collarbone. Pursing your lips, you feel the urge to cry again. If Varis noticed this, then surely Zenos--

"I will not require your choker from you this time. I doubt anyone is eager to hear you moan like a bitch in heat." Varis interrupts your thoughts, looking entirely too satisfied. "Though I must say, I am pleased. Perhaps now that he's loosened your legs, that bodyguard will loosen his tongue."

The thought of using sex just to weasel information out of Estinien fills you with anger, and it is only the fact you are no longer in the hot seat that keeps you quiet and obedient before this monster.

"Go and enjoy the rest of your day off. I’d suppose you would need your rest after such an intense...session." he chuckles lowly. "I will inform my son he is not to bother you for the rest of the evening. You are dismissed.”

This is clearly the most pleased Varis has ever been with you and yet you can’t help but resent him quietly as you stand without uttering a word and retreat from the room. Dragging your bag along the floor out of spite, you climb the stairs to your room, using your free hand to tug the scoop of your neckline to hopefully cover the marks. You’re almost tempted to make a break for it, but you know your clamor would be heard throughout the halls, so it is with sluggish feet you keep a leisurely pace to your quarters. Thankfully he is absent, allowing you to slip into your room unbothered. You do not get the privilege of being able to lock your room, so you pray Varis was right when he said Zenos would be ordered to bug off for the rest of the day.

You don’t turn on the big chandelier that hangs from your ceiling, instead choosing to draw every curtain and turn on the single, wrought iron lamp in your room. Hauntingly beautiful, for once you are glad that Varis’ gothic aesthetic matches your mood. You can’t remember the last time you felt so down on yourself, but if it’s been too long to remember, maybe you deserve to throw yourself a pity party.

So you do.

You flop down face first on the bed and let the fluff of the bedding take hold of you, breathing in freshly cleaned linen. Fisting your hands in them, you giggle to yourself at the thought of rolling yourself up like a piece of sushi like you used to when you were a kid. Such simpler times and yet, such dark times too. You try not to dwell on them much, for each time you do, all that it brings about is nightmares. Nightmares of being an orphan, of losing Minfilia, of unknown blood on your hands…

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling you from your daze. Reaching to grab it you squint at the screen to see that it is Ardbert calling you. You didn’t deserve a third friend’s shoulder to cry on in one day, if you even had anymore tears to cry at all. You reject his call and shoot him a quick message that you’re just going to take the rest of the day to chill, which he buys quickly enough.

You wish you could confide in Ardbert all that had happened today: about Varis, about Cid, hells, even just gossiping like adults about what a good lay Estinien is. But the walls have ears and the hills have eyes and you would never do anything to jeopardize his life if you could help it. As much as Ardbert wanted you to depend on him, as dangerous as he knew this family was, he still was willing to stick out his neck for you, even if it meant his own life.

You didn’t deserve this kindness. Not for the sins you now bear.

You deserved cruelty; you needed it. You needed to be kicked around, made to feel lower than dirt, pounded into the ground--

So that you could spring forth with rebirth once more as fierce and explosive as ever.

You deserved nothing but malice as penance for the crimes you’ve committed. You needed to be bound. You needed--

An image of golden hair and blue eyes fills your vision.

You need to sleep.

Summer slowly gives way to fall, its chill creeping in steadily. Your morning yoga had instead changed to morning jogs, doing laps around the estate until your lungs burned. Somedays Zenos had joined you in strained silence, and other days he barked orders at you from the comfort of a lawn chair as he sipped on his Ul’Dahn coffee. Things were obviously tense between you to anyone with eyes, but neither of you (or anyone else for that matter) were willing to be the first to address it, for you were sure neither of you were sure what it was to address. You each acted almost robotically around the other; clipped sentences, only speaking when asked a direct question or given an order. There was no teasing, no scathing remarks, no insults carefully masked as a compliment.

It was miserable.

A few weeks pass, and the changing weather matches your mood. You still visit Estinien to spar despite what occurred between the two of you, the waters still murky on how to proceed. Despite that, it doesn’t mean you are unwilling to find comfort in his body; letting yourself be cared for, feeling normal, even if only for a little while.

“Are you sure you still wish to remain my son’s bodyguard?”

“Yes. If I want a change in a career path, I assure you, you will be the first to know.” You respond in monotone, doing your best to repress how obviously annoyed you are.

“I merely extend the offer in good faith; it is clear that things have...soured between my son and yourself.” Varis comments, clicking away at his computer while nursing a glass of wine. He swirls the ruby liquid around in its glass, golden eyes sparkling with the reflected light of his computer screen. He has that bemused expression again; like a cat that got the cream. “I will remind you again that this offer has no expiration date. You may join my security detail at your leisure.” He cuts you with a look that borders on lustful, and it takes every ounce of control in your body to keep the muscles in your face from making a disgusted expression.

“You had...called me here for something sir?” you sigh, through restraining your utter distaste for him.

"Yes. We will be traveling abroad for an important gala and naturally you will be coming along. We will be departing for La Noscea and staying in Limsa Lominsa. You will need to pack enough clothing for a three nights' stay as I will have other things to tend to there before we depart. Luggage has already been provided for you, as well as all the proper documentation to travel abroad. We will leave in the morning and I expect you to be prepared to leave at dawn. Am I understood?" He asks and you give a curt nod. "Good. Go on and pack your things." he waves you sway with a flick of his hand and you obey, albeit unwillingly.

Heading to your room, you can't help but feel a little giddy; never in your wildest dreams did you see yourself being able to travel, let alone outside of the country. You remember daydreaming with Minfilia about the two of you running away and seeing the magic the world has to offer, but it was a dream that never got to come true.

Packing your things, you resolve to try and take as many pictures as you can, to hold onto the memories you would create, in hope that Minfilia would see them too, in spirit. She was with you, you knew it.

You text Ardbert about your departure, and while he expresses his envy, he makes you promise to bring him back tons of souvenirs and La Noscean snacks with that hefty paycheck of yours. He even offers to bring you his own suitcase to fill to the brim, which gets a good laugh out of you. You can never be thankful enough for his friendship, and do resolve to bring back as much for him as you can.

When you leave for the airport you ride with Rhitahtyn and Livia in first class in a separate airplane, not quite understanding why you can’t ride in the private jet with your client, but deciding that honestly, you could probably use the space. You spare yourself no luxury as you settle into the overly cushy seats that first class has to offer, choosing to indulge in a vintage glass of wine and Boscaiola for your mid-flight dinner. Each bite is delicious and you savor each one, knowing that as soon as you land, Zenos will be watching you like a hawk. The question came to mind of why Varis simply didn’t have you fly economy and spare himself some money, to which Livia scoffed as she cut into her ribeye steak.

“It would be an insult to him, and his wealth. Lord Varis is clearly not hurting to save money; to not even afford his security detail something as common as first class would be in poor taste.”

You suppose that made sense, given that your work uniforms were pressed and starched every week and also handmade. Even though you had long since adjusted to your life of luxury, you realized there was still so little you understood about it all.

“We are not close to the ocean and yet I still can still smell the salt in the air. I will never understand the appeal.” Livia huffs with a curl to her lip, her red hair blowing gently in the balmy wind as you wait for the chauffeurs to retrieve the cars. Naturally, the Galvus’ were swarmed by paparazzi as they made their way through the airport, and they were surprisingly rowdy too, at least compared to Kugane citizens. You wondered if it was just because they were La Noscean.

“I’ve always found it comforting.” Rhitahtyn sighs wistfully, allowing the sun to hit his face.

“I suppose you would. You had spent most of your youth here, did you not?” Livia asks, and the two launch off into conversation, which you are more than happy to leave them to. Taking out your phone, you take pictures just as you promised yourself you would, of the sky, the clouds, the birds overhead. There really was a different feeling about being here, and you didn't care if you could feel eyes on you for soaking it in.

"I hear Garlond's due to arrive perhaps just an hour later," Varis announces, his voice carrying over the passing cars and planes that have taken off. "The event is not until tomorrow evening. Feel free to spend your night at your leisure, Honey."

You groan internally at his obvious bait, but Zenos beats you to a response. "How many times do I have to tell you to not order my bodyguard around?"

"Yes, yes, well-- if you want to keep such a tight grip on her and not allow her any freedom, I suppose that is your prerogative now isn't it? Though I wouldn't be surprised if you find her in someone else’s arms as a result…" Varis purrs and you blanch immediately as Zenos' eyes flick to you with an unreadable emotion.

Unable to decipher what he's thinking, you decide to not say anything at all, guiltily looking away. You miss Varis’ smug smirk, his hands reaching up to adjust his tie unnecessarily. “Well. I have given my suggestion, do with it as you may. I will be getting some work done this evening before the gala tomorrow.” With perfect timing, the cars pull up, windows tinted to where the chauffeur is basically a shadow. Saying nothing, you quietly open the door for Zenos, who doesn’t spare you a glance as he steps inside. Unfortunately, this is where you must part ways with Rhitahtyn and Livia, and once again have your boss as your sole companion.

As the car pulls away from the airport, you find yourself wishing that Ardbert was allowed to come along to be your driver. Even if you two weren’t allowed to talk to each other, just his presence alone was a comfort, especially in the recent weeks where things were incredibly tense. With no Ardbert here, things feel worsened and you choose to spend the entire ride watching the world pass by.

Thankfully Zenos is of the same mind, saying nothing. You can’t deny that you miss the bickering, the banter, but you know you’re too stubborn yourself to initiate it again. You hardly know why he started closing himself off to you in the first place, making it hard to find a place to start to try and get things to being relatively normal again. Jealousy couldn’t be the only reason, could it? You practically worry your lip raw from biting it while thinking too hard, the car pulling up to the hotel before you know it.

Arriving at your destination, The Mizzenmast Inn is a five star hotel, the valet rushing to open the door before you can even reach for the handle. Stepping out, you get a whiff of the salty air, even able to distantly hear the ocean. Were you close to the shore?

“Our luggage...where is it?” You ask more to yourself, but it seems it reaches other ears.

“It will be delivered here if it hasn’t been already.” Zenos answers, climbing out the car and glancing around. As he moves past you, you nod and shut the door, following him inside. “Collect our room keys from the front desk.”

“S-Sure.” Ambling over to the front desk, you flash your ID to the receptionist who goes through the motions of giving you a warm welcome. Once done, she hands you two shiny, black cards, seeming to be made of metal. Liking their weight, you play with them in your hand a bit before giving your thanks and meeting Zenos by the elevators. One arrives just as you stand by his side, and you both enter to head to your rooms.

The building was fairly tall from the outside, and you wouldn’t doubt that Varis of course requested the highest room with the best view if any of the other rich people hadn’t already. Imagining such a view in your mind, you’re jolted from your thoughts as the elevator comes to a sudden halt, your eyes immediately searching for danger. “Zenos,” you start, moving near him, but instead you are pressed against the wall instead, wincing as your back uncomfortably hits the hand rail.

Opening your eyes, you gasp as Zenos suddenly yanks your blazer to the side, his fingers alarmingly quick in popping the first few buttons of your shirt open. Face heating, you move your arms to push him away. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

His gaze is focused as he pulls the shirt to the side as well, fingers running over your skin around your neck. Through searching one side he examines the other, eyes scrutinous as he visibly frowns. Finally meeting your eyes, he has that unreadable expression again. “What was my father talking about?”

Pursing your lips, you try to quickly decide what to say. Better to stall. “What do you mean?”

His eyes narrow like a cat’s, unbridled rage simmering just below their blue depths. “Do not lie to me.”

Silent, you break his stare, glancing at yourself in the reflective surface of an adjacent wall. With his bulk, his height, he encompasses you entirely, his hand still firm yet feather light on your throat. His other palm is flat against the wall, his body far too close to be considered professional. Like this, one might even say you...looked good together.

You grunt as the hand that was at your throat jumps up to your chin, gripping fiercely to make you face him. “What. Did my father. Mean?” He asks, enunciating each syllable painfully slow.

“What’s it matter to you?” you lash out, falling all too easily back into the need to defy him. “Why the sudden interest, huh?”

However, it seems Zenos isn’t in the mood to play games, as he doesn’t rise to your bait. “You don’t just train with that bodyguard, now do you?”

“If you mean that we also have tea and converse, then you would be correct.” You lie, hating the taste of it on your tongue. Something about lying to Zenos felt...wrong.

Maybe because despite all his faults, he was nothing but genuine.

You’re thankful you remember some of Lyse’s tips for getting rid of hickeys in just a day or so. Never would you have thought you’d actually need that advice, especially not for this.

“And what of me? Do you not consider me worthy of the same?” He asks, and you swear you see just a brief flicker of pain before it is lost in a sea of jealousy.

“Well, Estinien doesn’t call me a savage and actually treats me like an equal.” You huff, reaching up with a free hand to grip his wrist to see if you can coax him to loosen his grip. “He doesn’t berate me, he doesn’t make me feel like shit. He treats me like a fucking person.”

He seems to mull this over before he tightens his grip more. “I would not think you would care about such trivial things.”

“They’re not trivial, you bastard. They’re what makes us mortal.” You sigh, giving him a pitying look. “You treat me like shit every day and you really think I wouldn’t jump at the chance to talk to someone who doesn’t?”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

His fist slams into the wall, cracking the glass. “You should only talk to me.” He snarls, and like a chain reaction his anger incites your own.

“I couldn’t give two shits about your little ownership speech.” You snatch his hand from your face and twist his arm painfully, uncaring whether you hurt him or not. “As smart as you are Zenos, you learn absolutely fucking nothing.” Reaching past him, you re-engage the elevator, choosing instead to get off on the closest floor. The elevator doors open blessedly quick and you exit onto whatever floor it deposits you on, stalking down the hall without looking back.

The rest of that day is instead spent in your hotel room, feeling conflicted as hell, but unsure why to even yourself. It is tempting to call Ardbert, but something about being out of the country and calling home seems even more high risk. Instead, you choose to simply order in all the first class food you can stomach, and charge it all to the Galvus account.

The alone time at least lets you have your thoughts to yourself, to think about whether you imagined the hurt in his eyes or not.

I promise to make it worth your while...if you weren’t my employee.

Punching your pillow you scream out your frustrations into the downy cushion, kicking your feet as you abuse the poor pillow some more.

Why did everything have to be so hard?

Why did he have to be such an asshole? Why couldn’t he be more like Estinien? What was so hard about treating you like a fucking human being--

Why do you care?

He doesn’t care about you. It’s a fact you have to constantly remind yourself of. He doesn’t care about you, he just thinks of you as his toy and now daddy is making him share. He’s behaving like a child unable to process his feelings, lacking in emotional maturity. That wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“Rookie! You ready?”

“I’ll be out in just a minute!” You call, fastening your cufflinks, shaped to be the Garlean logo like every other accessory you were allowed to wear. One would think Varis would use his own logo for his brand to put on all his things, especially since he had seemingly renounced Garlemald entirely. It’s not the time to think about that however, quickly putting your linkpearl in your ear and other necessary tools where they belong. Stepping out the door, your coworkers are waiting for you looking equally sharp, giving you an approving nod.

“Security is still going to be tight, right?” You ask, giving Rhitahtyn a small smile as he waits for you and Livia to board the elevator first, ever the gentleman. How it was that Livia could see past his Roegadyn heritage yet get on your case made no sense, but you decided not to think too deeply on it. It was time to get to work and no matter how tense things were between you and your employer, you had a job to do.

“Yes, largely in part due to the happenings at the hospital. I believe Lord Varis refused to attend at all unless security was up to his expectations. Of course, after the nearly successful attempt on his life, no one could discredit him for being paranoid or overthinking it.” Rhitahtyn explains, his mass making the elevator feel a little cramped.

“Well hopefully nothing eventful will happen. I’d like a nice peaceful night of just being a shadow for once…” you sigh wistfully, soothed by Rhitahtyn’s low chuckle.

“Aye, I hope for the same. We will at least have our fill of hors d'oeuvres tonight. Even so, never let your guard down, rookie.” Giving you a light clap on the shoulder, he nudges you to head out the elevator first as it comes to a stop, where you are to await Zenos and Varis in the lobby. The sun is only just now setting on the horizon, casting warm tones onto the still bustling city. While Limsa Lominsa is nowhere near the size and modernity of Kugane, it still has its charm, with significantly less skyscrapers decorating its skyline. You get so caught up in admiring the beauty as you stare out the windows, you miss the elevator signaling Varis and Zenos’ arrival.

The two are dressed in tuxedos like any male at any formal event, and you find yourself mentally wishing that men in society had a little more variety. That isn’t to say they look bad; their tuxedos are tailored to fit and boy do they fit well. You hardly spare Varis a glance as you drink Zenos in, admiring the fine line of his body. His tuxedo is cut differently than his father’s, perhaps due to his body type, for a normal tux would look frumpy and unflattering to his form.

His golden hair is washed and straightened, trimmed perfectly to where a single hair isn’t out of place. The cut of the tux accentuates his broad shoulders and slim waist, leading to narrow hips that flare into muscled thighs. His slacks are made to fit somewhat snugly, but still allow movement, showing off his prime physique and toned glutes.

He would easily qualify to be an Adonis in anyone’s book, even your own.

“Blink, rookie.” Rhitahtyn whispers, giving you a nudge. Face flaming red, you quickly turn away, ceasing your staring. Were you really that obvious?

You prayed that wasn’t the case, following the two men down a hallway. The gala was being held at the same hotel you were staying at, at least saving you a car ride anywhere. Shadowing Zenos, you go into work mode, staying just within arm’s reach and looking for any would be threats. Reaching another hallway, you can already hear loud chatter and camera flashes of other attendees making their way in. Here, Varis would break off and walk down the red carpet to get the attention he so craved while you and Zenos would head straight into the venue.

Entering the ballroom, the decorations are breathtaking as always, nothing short of magical. Hues of blues and silvers glimmer across the room, all kinds of crystals twinkling and catching the light, making refractions on the walls and floor. If only it weren’t inappropriate to whip out your phone and catch a few photos. You would love to be able to share these pictures with Y’Shtola and Lyse when your job here was done. You dreamed of being able to sit back and laugh about all of this around some glasses of wine and a shitty romcom in your pajamas.

“Daydreaming again?” Zenos drones, not having looked in your direction, but clearly speaking to you.

“I don’t daydream.” You answer angrily, still on high alert for potential threats.

“I’m sure you don’t. That’s why you didn’t hear me telling you to go get me a glass of champagne.” He tuts, crossing his arms and raising a single brow.

“How do you know I wasn’t just ignoring you?” The rebuttals come as fast as ever, almost naturally.

“Of course you were. Just do as I say.” He gives that bored sigh, and it grates on you as much as it gives you an undercurrent of worry. “I already tire of the event and it has barely even started.”

Frowning, you do as told and meander to the closest table, dodging past a few clumped celebrities. In a strange way they had become familiar faces; people you saw in person plenty of times even if you had no direct interaction with them. They certainly wouldn’t know who you were…

“Hey...you’re that bodyguard right? For the Galvus kid?”

...or maybe they did.

Turning after picking up a glass, you find world renowned singer Guydelot giving you a rather fine smirk. Blushing, you bow respectfully. “That I am.” You respond hastily, standing straight once more.

“A pleasure to meet you. I must say, even though I saw the news myself on tv, seeing you in person doesn’t quite do you justice to what I had envisioned in my mind’s eye. You are...quieter than I thought at first.” He laughs, rich and loud and you can’t help but join in.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint.” You respond casually, sorely out of practice with small talk.

“Not at all...after all,” he sashays by you to swipe a flute from the table, giving you a sultry look. “You are far prettier than I had envisioned as well.”

Flustered, you nearly drop the champagne flute you were holding from your hands as your ears burn hot. “That’s uh, quite the compliment…” you murmur, quite unsure what to say.

“Think nothing of it!” He teases, sauntering closer to you. “Though, with how tight security is tonight, do you think you could spare me a few minutes of your evening? Surely your charge won’t notice you missing for a little while.”

“She can not.”

Zenos’ voice cuts through the air like a knife with its finality, his hand landing on your shoulder possessively. Looking back at him, his eyes are trained on Guydelot as if he would kill him where he stood were they anywhere else but here. Growling, you glare at him right back. “Where do you get off,”

“Ah, so the one being guarded is the protective one I see!” Guydelot pouts, taking a long swig from his glass to finish it off. Setting it back down on the table, he gives you a wink. “I know when I’m beat and am highly allergic to getting a beating in particular. Good evening to you my lady, and of course, to you as well Zenos.” Saying nothing more, you watch as he meanders back into the crowd.

Standing there in silence, your rage doesn’t come to you at first. It simmers just below the surface, almost as if it is just one layer away from seeping from your pores. “Why. Did you. Do that.”

“Your job is to protect me. You do not get to go off and,”

“I am well aware of what I get to and do not get to do!” You nearly yell, taking a deep breath so you can remember to lower your voice. “What is with you? You fucking ignore me, treat me like the rest of your fucking employees and by that I mean you talk to me as if I’m no better than the dirt below your feet. You don’t want to tease me or even argue with me anymore. Is it because of Estinien? Are you jealous?”

Glaring at you, he snatches the champagne from your hand as he grabs your wrist. “Do not presume to know me.” He breathes lowly, his grasp on your wrist incredibly painful but you will not back down. Not to him.

“I’m not presuming shit. I’m just trying to get things back to normal. I’m trying to see what’s wrong, Twelve help me, I’m trying to be a friend to you!” You snap, finally getting things off your chest you had wanted to say for so long.

“I do not need you to be my friend.” He’s almost raised his voice now too, leaning in closer, eclipsing the light in the room from your vision.

“Then what is it Zenos? What do you need? What is it that has changed how we speak to each other? Why have you closed yourself off?” The questions tumble out before you can stop them, the concern in your voice loosening his grip, as he suddenly can’t hold your gaze any longer.

“Stop asking such nonsensical questions. I don’t have to explain myself to you, savage.” he bites out, taking a step away from you.

“Stop running away and just tell me!” You hiss under your breath, stepping forward, chasing him down. “What is wrong, Zenos? Just tell me, I...I want things to be normal again.”

His expression is the most conflicted you’ve ever seen it, his touch on you feather light before he lets go of you entirely. People are surely staring at you, but you pay them no mind, focused on him, in this moment. All he has to do is tell you what’s wrong, confide in you this once, and maybe things will be normal again, you can smile around him again--

“I have let you go unchecked for too long. You need to learn your place.”

At that your face visibly falls, and so does your heart.

“Honey!”

Tears sting just behind your eyes as you turn to that familiar voice, seeing Cid squeeze his way through the crowd to get to you. “I didn’t know you would be here!” he beams, setting his glass of wine down on the nearby table. You do nothing as you are suddenly dragged into a fierce hug, your face buried in his shoulder where the beginnings of your tears are soaked by his tuxedo. “C-Cid,”

“Wonderful as always to see you.” He cuts you off, giving you a tight squeeze before pulling away slightly. “Why don’t you and Estinien go and relax for a minute; eat some finger food and drink some champagne?” Looking over his shoulder, sure enough Estinien is there, glaring at Zenos as if he wants to fight, but his gaze softens when he looks back to you.

“That is my bodyguard, Garlond.” Zenos seethes, stepping forward until Cid places a steadying hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“If you’ve not noticed, you’ve garnered quite a lot of attention my dear boy...and you know I know your father as well as you do. He wouldn’t be pleased if it was bad attention, now would he?” Cid mumbles under his breath, causing Zenos to actually take a good look around the room. The guests still converse and chat, but they are clearly angled in a way to keep an eye on the two of you. Seeing this, Zenos huffs before straightening up. “Atta boy. Why don’t we have a little walk around the place, hmm? I’m sure those two will keep us in their sights and there’s plenty of security around here.”

Nodding, albeit reluctantly, Zenos downs the flute he was holding and swaps it for another, uncaring of the bubbly liquid sloshing over the rim slightly. Casting you one last glance, he follows Cid into the crowd, taking the curious eyes with him.

You watch them disappear into the masses, standing stock still until Estinien places a gentle hand on your back. “You looked like you needed saving.” He comments, not saying what he truly wants to say. Testing the waters.

The floor suddenly captures your interest, suddenly unable to keep your head up to look at him. “I...not really. That’s just another Tuesday with us.” You laugh without humor, digging your heel into the floor. Finally gaining the courage to meet his stare, you falter at Estinien’s shrewd look.

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what you’re going through,” he begins, reaching to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “but you deserve better than that.”

Shaking your head, you turn to stare longingly in the direction Zenos had disappeared in. “I’m not so sure about that. But what I am sure of, is that to explain our relationship is...something probably best left unexplained.” Shaking your head, you turn back to face him, giving him a weak smile. “I’m not even sure I understand.”

Estinien says nothing to that, his expression somewhat pained, but it is gone in a flash. “I see.” he breathes, a note of determination to his voice. “Well, until you do, why don’t we listen to the old man? It was his idea after all.”

For the majority of the evening, you stick with Estinien, his presence a literal lifesaver in a sea of chaos. The one time you catch Varis’ eye he gives you that smug smirk again, the one that makes you sick to your stomach. You stealthily urge Estinien to steer you elsewhere in the gala, skimming the outer rim of the crowd where it is relatively quieter. You converse about any and everything, and soon enough your initial worries fade to the back of your mind as you keep Zenos and Cid in your sights. The night wanes on, but you don’t feel tired quite yet. Some guests have already turned in, the main events of the gala having already transpired. Your feet hurt a little, but not so much you couldn’t tough out another bell.

“It’s getting pretty late, yeah? My feet are gonna be hurting something fierce.” You comment, giving Estinien a light nudge. “I figured old man Cid would’ve turned in by now.” you joke, to which Estinien gives a smirk of his own.

“One day I’ll be there to see his reaction to you calling him ‘old man’, and laugh when he stops being so nice to you.” Estinien chuckles, only laughing harder when you give him a playful punch on his arm. “If you’re so tired, why don’t I carry you back to your room, hm?” He asks, blue eyes burning with muted desire.

Flushing with warmth, you do your best to not sound flustered. “You know I can’t leave until Zenos does! And you can’t leave until Cid does either!”

“True.” Estinien sighs dramatically, but not without encroaching on your space more than is appropriate for being just friends. “But if I recall, you’re staying at this hotel correct? Would certainly look a lot less suspicious if you brought me back to your room…”

Giving him another playful nudge, you giggle. “You’re awful.”

“Only for you.” He grins, tossing you a wink. “What do you say? I won’t tell if you won’t.” His hand creeps along your back, hovering just above your ass. Thankfully your backs are against the closest wall, so to anyone passing by, the two of you look innocent enough. But those long finger’s intentions are anything but pure.

“Oh I...I mean…” What would it mean were you to bring Estinien back to your room tonight? Within the bounds of the estate, you could write it off as just visiting a friend, letting off steam. But here, abroad, far from your original duty, would it still be friends with benefits? Two colleagues scratching an itch?

Did he want more?

Sensing your inner turmoil, Estinien moves his hand back up to your shoulder; neutral territory. “Honey, I don’t mean to pressure you.”

“No, that’s not it--” You begin but out of the corner of your eye, you catch golden hair rushing out the door. Confused, you reach for your linkpearl. “Livia, did Zenos tell either of you he was leaving?”

“Negative.”

Frowning, you break yourself from Estinien’s grip, but not before he grabs your hand before you can get away entirely. “Honey, wait,”

Looking back at him, he looks so vulnerable. This is something you need to talk about; you know it is, but--

You have a job to do.

“I’m sorry,” You pull away and push your way through the crowd to try and follow after Zenos as quickly as you can.

Knowing his long strides, he might be gone already. You pray he’s just heading back to his room and forgot to tell you, but he’s always so meticulous; this is so unlike him. Especially with how fiercely protective he was being, it makes no sense for him to suddenly stalk off like that. Willing your feet to move a little faster, you round the corner to the elevators in record time.

Mashing the button doesn’t make an elevator come any faster, but your patience is worn thin. You watch the others tick up, praying that one of these is his and that you’re not too far behind. Sure he can handle himself, but what if someone gets the jump on him like last time--

“Come on, come on…” You grumble, jumping onto the elevator as soon as the doors open, mashing the button for the floor Zenos is staying on. You shouldn’t be missed from the gala if only he stalked off, and hopefully no one else noticed, most importantly Varis. You really did not need to hear it from him tonight.

The elevator comes to a stop and you hop off immediately, spotting Zenos’ golden hair trailing behind him just as he turns a corner. “Zenos!” you call, following after him. As usual, his gait is hard to keep up with, but you know he fucking heard you. “Zenos!” you try again, trying to also be mindful of the late hour and not raise your voice. You’re nearly jogging down the hall to catch up with him so that you don’t have to yell for him. Growling, you give yourself that extra push to catch up to him. “I know you hear me you piece of--”

Suddenly he’s snagged you by the arm and slammed you into the closest wall, the impact jarring your vision for a moment. “That fucking hurt,” you hiss, as your vision refocuses, gasping as you find him far closer than he seemed.

Too close in fact.

His arms caged you in, his body shielding your own just like it had in the elevator yesterday. His hair cloaks his face in shadow, for the halls are not brightly lit to add to the atmosphere. There’s not a soul around, leaving the hall eerily quiet were it not for the sound of your own breaths intermingling with Zenos’. The scent of his cologne drifts into your nose, something so earthy and woodsy and sophisticated all at once. Even though he’s pinned you here, he doesn’t seem like he’s going to make the first move. “Zenos,”

“Why won’t you belong to me?”

The question alone leaves you speechless, not for the question itself, but for how confused and desperate he sounded. When he finally looks up to meet your eyes, you see pain, so much pain. “Would it be so wrong to be mine and mine alone?”

You bark out an empty laugh, shifting beneath him. “You can’t own people, Zenos.” His face breaks into even more confusion, and for the first time you truly do pity him. “Have you really never had a friend? One who didn’t want your money, your power, your status?”

“I have had no need of them.” His voice is firm, resolute. “What need do I have of such people when I have power? I have been a hunter without equal; no one has deserved the right.” He hisses, pressing in closer to you. “No one except you.”

“And yet you can’t even treat me like your friend!” You snap back, baring your teeth at him. “You call me names, you treat me like an insect! And you wonder why I won’t belong to you?” You try to push him off but he bears his weight against you, fueling your frustration. “Zenos yae Galvus,”

“You belong to me whether you like it or not.”

A loud crack sounds throughout the hallway.

It is the sound of your hand connecting with the side of his face.

Even Zenos himself is appalled; despite all the ways you have struck him, never, never have you dared to slap him across the face.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Tears well in your eyes, and you let them fall, uncaring for once how weak and vulnerable you are before him. He is still in shock it seems, so you continue onward. “You fucking idiot, I care about you!” You nearly roar, caring about nothing in this moment, except for him. “Even though I’m not supposed to--” your voice cracks and breaks, your hands coming up to furiously wipe at your tears. “You keep pushing me away like some fucking child-- what am I supposed to do?!”

You stand there and cry, the tears seeming like they won’t stop flowing. “I wake up to see your face every morning, I eat breakfast with you, I go to work with you, I come home with you. And you think I wouldn’t care? Do you even know what that is? To care?” You smack him on the chest, though you might as well be hitting stone. “You...you…!” You hit him again, but there’s no strength in any of your strikes, and he stands there and takes your assault wordlessly as you cry in the hallway. “I’ve become a killer! For you! I took someone’s life because I cared about yours more!”

That seems to awaken something in him, his eyes wide with shock and a sudden understanding. “I do belong to you.” he whispers, almost as it was an epiphany, and those words are enough to finally make you the confused one.

“W-What…?” You stammer, giving him an incredulous look. “I tell you I fucking care about your sociopathic ass, and all you have to say is,”

Your words are cut off by the press of his lips against your own.

Your brain lags malms behind your body, finally catching up to the fact you are currently kissing the heir of Galvus Enterprises. His arms ensnare you immediately, bring you against his firm body, and you’re ashamed at how quickly you melt into him.

Pushing harshly at him, you try to pry him off you, but it’s like pushing against steel. “Get off me,”

“No,” he rasps, lips pressing hot kisses to your jaw as you refuse to let him kiss you again. His touch is like fire, threatening to burn you alive and turn you to ash if you’re not careful.

Panicking, you try to break from his grip.

“Zenos, let me go,” you demand, giving a well placed hit to his ribs. He grunts in pain but is otherwise undeterred. If anything, it’s spurred him on. “What are you doing,”

“I don’t know,” he admits, nipping at the skin on your neck. “But this feels right.” He growls, grabbing your legs to haul you against the wall, placing himself between them. Your arms loop around his neck automatically to steady yourself, gasping as you stare into his ice blue eyes.

“I realized this now…” He trails off, hands flexing on your thighs. “We do not speak in terms the other understands,” he breathes, inching his face closer to yours. Cool, blue eyes jump to your lips for a moment before coming back to meet your gaze. “But we want the same thing.”

He presses his forehead to yours, breathing deeply as you feel the bump of his third eye on your skin. “You care about me…” he breathes as if he is testing the word on his tongue. A shiver so strong going down his spine that you can feel it in his grip. “And you belong to me.” Pulling away, he opens his eyes, overflowing with desire. “I’m through playing games.” The finality of that statement lets you know that from now on, nothing will ever be the same.

“Tonight, I will make sure you never forget you are mine.”

[ducktracy]

162. porky and gabby (1937)

release date: may 15th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: ub iwerks

starring: mel blanc (porky, gabby, truck driver)

a new name in the director’s guild for the first time in 9 months! feels longer, doesn’t it? ub iwerks, as in flip the frog creator and co-creator of mickey mouse iwerks, landed a very short term gig at warner bros. his warner bros gig was essentially a freelance gig as he floated around studios. he got some work to do, and leon schlesinger was able to meet his cartoon quota. he only directed 2 cartoons until one day he just up and left, leaving his unit to bob clampett. after jack king left the studio in 1936, iwerks came. bob clampett, who had been promised a position by schlesinger for quite some time, wasn’t too happy that this new guy was stepping in and taking a directorial position after HE had been promised a position for quite some time, so schlesinger appointed him to help iwerks out and to get that looney feel in the cartoons. clampett took chuck jones, bobe cannon, and manager ray katz with him. thus, when iwerks left, clampett inherited the unit. essentially, he, chuck, and bobe acted like co-directors on the iwerks films, refining them to give the films a more warner bros feel. clampett’s first entry, porky’s badtime story, was started by iwerks before he left the studio. this newly formed unit became known as the ray katz unit, separate from the leon schlesinger unit.

with a new director comes a new “star” (or not): gabby goat. gabby was warner bros’ response to donald duck. a temperamental, brash, angry sidekick to balance out the good-natured, happy go lucky, though slightly bland porky, whose personality was still up in the air. bob clampett credits cal howard for the creation of gabby, who would actually voice him in gabby’s final appearance, get rich quick porky. gabby himself only starred in three cartoons, never making it out of 1937. however, storyboards for clampett’s porky’s party (1938) DO show gabby (and petunia) starring alongside porky in the short. gabby really interests me as a character. he was so rude that his brash personality was considerably toned down by his last entry. he paved the way for daffy as a sidekick—in fact, clampett would remake porky‘s badtime story in 1944 with tick tock tuckered, daffy usurping gabby’s role in the cartoon. while gabby (and iwerks)’s stint was short, he was actually revived in the second season of wabbit/new looney tunes in 2018, voiced by bob bergen! he’s an interesting case who i like a lot, even though he doesn’t have much to show for himself.

the synopsis speaks for itself: porky and gabby are headed for a peaceful camping trip, but a variety of mishaps threaten any ounce of their enjoyment.

iris in with porky and gabby (literally) trucking their way through the rolling country side, their car brimming with camping essentials and more. a jolly motif of “gee, but you’re swell” scores quite a majority of the cartoon, and the opening scene is no exception. gabby doesn’t seem to share the same appreciation porky does for the outdoors, haughtily slumped over in his seat as porky asks “sure a swell day to go camping, isn’t it, gabby?” 

before gabby can respond, their jalopy hits a rock, which catapults all of their camping supplies up into the air. thankfully--because why else?--the supplies piles back up neatly in the trunk, recovering from the bump. that is, except for one. a frying pan smacks gabby right on the head and gives him a shiner, much to porky’s amusement. gabby, full of malice, growls “YEAH!” in porky’s face.

just then, the two get stuck behind a moving van. we hear excessive honking as their jalopy zigzags back and forth, attempting to squeeze past, but the van is too big for the small country road they’re on. gabby is the perpetrator behind the horn, doing a fleischer-esque shiver take in anger as he honks on the horn and hurls insults. “hey you! get that big crate off the road! move over, we ain’t got all day! what’s the matter with you, you deaf!? you can hear that, can’t ya!?” while gabby engages in his hotheaded rant, porky, behind the wheel, is able to pull up next to the van, where gabby now yells at the bewildered truck driver in person. “get over, ya big sheep!” 

as gabby threatens to “bounce one up [his] chin”, the truck driver pulls on a lever, attached to a hand shaped paddle. the paddle smacks gabby right in the face, causing him to spin around and dangle helplessly from the outstretched paddle as porky drives on ahead, clueless. reused from porky’s romance and from the radio show community sing, the truck driver tells gabby not to get excited. gabby retaliates in a flurry of sped up anger (the voice clip reused from porky’s romance) “EXCITED?? WHO’S EXCITED!? I’M NOT EXCITED!!!”

conveniently, the paddle dumps gabby right in a mud puddle, sparking another angry outburst, now spewing insults and mud alike. porky, still driving on his merry way, overhears gabby’s rampage and screeches to a halt, now driving in reverse. the animation in this scene and the next one is nice and rubbery, very elastic and stretchy. ub’s cartoons are hardly the most entertaining, but i do love how rubbery and tactile his animation is. a jolly underscore “gee, but you’re swell” triumphantly scores porky’s demise as he too is smacked by the passing paddle on the moving van. he’s then tossed out of the driver’s seat and splayed onto the hood of the car.

while gabby continues his muddy ranting and raving, the car conveniently runs right over gabby, halting just above him. porky looks around, befuddled, stuttering “hey, gabby! where are you?” mel’s deliveries as gabby are more than amusing as gabby growls back “where am i! where am i? now ain’t that a smart question! i’m under the car, you big fathead!” porky, unscathed by the remarks, climbs back into the driver’s seat and tells gabby he’ll pull up. he does so, running over gabby’s head in the process. more scathing remarks from gabby, with some particularly fluid and lovely animation as he jumps up and down in the mud puddle.

transition to the two back in their car, inching their way up a very steep incline. there’s some lovely synchronization between the animation and music as the car trucks its way up, the water in the engine spurting with each push up, all in time with the music. this collaboration is furthered as the score slows down, now as fatigued as the car trying to truck its way up. very clever indeed. just as they finally reach the top, the engine dies.

porky suggests pushing, much to gabby’s chagrin, making his distaste known by slamming the door as he begrudgingly exits the car. more rubbery animation as porky pulls at the bumper from the front, gabby pushing from the back, griping about how he wishes he’d stay home. “i don’t like camping, anyway!” porky manages to pull the bumper off the car entirely, just in time for gabby to get a running head start and ram into the back of the car, causing the car to topple over porky and barrel down the hill.

quite an interesting switch in angles as the duo run down the hill to catch the car, the decline turning into an incline once more, with the car slowing considerably and beginning its journey up the hill. now, porky and gabby run AWAY from the car, not towards it, as the car slides back down the hill, seeing as it can’t accelerate or decelerate on its own. predictable, yet fun to watch as porky and gabby engage in a game of cat and mouse with the car, the car ultimately barreling into them, sending the two twirling up into the air and landing neatly back in their respective seats. cartoon physics to the rescue!

a bit confusing as the car suddenly gains life again, trucking uphill, exhaust coming out of the pipe, but so be it. porky and gabby FINALLY reach their destination, the score now a rendition of “speaking of the weather” (which is the title of a frank tashlin merrie melody as well!) but, as we all know, this is only half the battle. porky triumphantly declares “well, here we are! i’ll put up the tent. you unload the car.” judging by the way porky moves and how gabby squints at him in contempt afterwards, i’d wage this as bob clampett’s animation. gabby retorts “yeah, i get all the hard work!” he struggles to untie the endless luggage piled up on the car. instead, he pulls the weight of the entire car on top of him, luggage spilling out on the ground as the car does a few barrel rolls, landing neatly right side up. gabby pokes his head out of the luggage pile, giving the audience an angry trademark Gabby Wink/Grimace. 

elsewhere, while porky’s setting up the tent, a pesky bee comes to assess the situation. i wonder if bees in cartoons are an ub iwerks thing, or just a coincidence--in porky’s badtime story, which was started by ub, there’s a scene where porky tries to swat a bee away with a pillow, hitting gabby in the process. this could have been a clampett gag, but it wasn’t included in the tick tock tuckered remake, so who’s to say. some more interesting rubbery animation combined with a shiver take as porky angrily attempts to swat the bee away, getting stung in the ass in the process. the tent collapses, pinning porky and the bee together under the same tarp. the animation is just lovely to watch as the bee swoops around in circles, the tarp leaving a trail behind. very rubbery and malleable.

gabby begrudgingly prepares the furniture when he hears porky. “gabby! gabby! get a sly fwatter--a-a--a fly swatter!” gabby mutters to himself, scouting out a fly swatter, when he hits gold. a shovel. three times as big and three times as effective! gabby’s gleeful, slightly twisted grin as he charges towards the tent wielding the shovel is priceless. he’s a little too eager to bash some sense into that bee. 

porky’s still being stung to pieces when gabby arrives. this is probably one of the funniest moments in an ub cartoon at WB, the timing is just too good: gabby hesitates, watching porky writhe around in agony under the tarp, before bashing porky’s head in. porky (rightfully) cries “OW!” and we hear silence. no movement. even better is when gabby carefully picks up the tarp and looks inside, making sure his pal is still breathing. instead, the pesky bee flies out from the tarp and stings gabby right on the nose.

more wonderfully fluid animation and speed lines as gabby now chases the bee with the shovel, cursing all along the way. ub’s flip the frog cartoons didn’t shy away from cursing (lots of “damn!”s), so i wonder if he ever thought about giving gabby a proper sailor mouth. seems likely. the bee lands on the exhaust pipe of their car, and when gabby hits the pipe with his trusty shovel, the force is enough to knock out the engine of the car, popping out of the grill.

more bob clampett animation as porky recovers, struggling to tie the tent’s rope to a stake in the ground. now, porky asks for a piece of rope, much to gabby’s chagrin. “rope... rope... i ain’t got any rope! guy’s always wantin’ something. why don’t he get his own rope? ah, here’s a piece!” sure enough, a spare piece of rope slithers out from the pile of junk by the car. treg brown’s use of a donkey braying as gabby pulls on the rope is a great touch. 

unfortunately, we see that the rope is attached to the outboard motor. gabby gives a hearty tug, and the rope is freed from the motor, which activates it. the motor flies into the air, threatening to guillotine anyone who comes in contact with the blades. gabby is knocked into a hole the motor dug into the ground, peering out of it for safety (in a very similar manner to porky poking his head out of a hole in porky’s last stand). speaking of porky, he dives into his tent for safety as the motor cuts the tarp away into pieces. 

the animation in this sequence is lovely, accented by carl stalling’s favorite “black coffee”. gabby resorts to shooting at the motor with a rifle. cartoon physics--the knockback from the rifle sends gabby flying, landing on a car horn, which catapults him forward. he shoots, he bounces, he shoots, he bounces, and so forth. one excessive shot sends him flying onto a spare mattress, the spring catapulting him into the air. gabby shoots himself down, but it’s no use. the spring gets caught on a tree branch. the motor threatens to graze gabby as he yells at porky for help (”i’m caught on a limb!”). rather, the motor runs into him, sending gabby twirling around the branch and hurtling towards the ground, the spring coming loose. it’s difficult to put into words, but it’s a lovely scene with some lovely animation. 

porky, who has now miraculously found some rope, fashions a lasso and corrals the motor. “i got it! i got it!” but, as always, there’s a catch. a loop ties around porky’s legs, the motor dragging porky along in the wild goose chase. gabby scales up between two, lanky trees for safety, the motor cutting the bottoms off and making makeshift stilts. more beautiful animation as gabby struggles to stay put. eventually, the rope attached to the motor ties the two trees together, the rope loosening from porky’s legs and sending both him and gabby toppling to the ground. 

befuddled, both investigate the eerie silence--no motor in sight. that is until the familiar sound of whirring grows louder from off screen. in a panic, the two bump into each other as they scramble to escape, both flopping to the ground just in tiem for the motor to rocket over their heads. 

all hopes of a camping trip are out the window as the two scramble into their car. the engine, which had been catapulted out the front, is now pulled inside as the two speed away, hoping to outrun the deathtrap. i LOVE the detail of porky paddling at the air as they drive away, as if his meager attempts to paddle would speed the car up even more from the motor that flies threateningly close behind them. 

meanwhile, they encounter an old friend: the moving van that gabby had harassed from before. once more does gabby berate the innocent driver (”HEY! MOVE OUTTA THE WAY, WE’RE COMIN’ THROUGH!”) as we get an interesting angle of the motor heading straight towards the audience. 

porky and gabby duck, ready to meet their demise when the motor crashes into their car, pushing the car forcefully into the moving van. a cloud of smoke as the crash ensues. the truck driver has a tire dangling from his next, much to gabby’s delight. gabby bursts into a fit of hysterical, bleating laughter, nudging a dazed porky so he can get a good look. the van driver pulls on his trusty lever, and the hand shaped paddle from before gives gabby a well deserved smack. iris out as both the van driver and even porky beam at gabby’s humiliation.

what an interesting cartoon, to say the least! there’s a lot of layers to it, while simultaneously, there aren’t at all. to put it bluntly, at surface level, this isn’t a very good cartoon. a few plotholes (like porky randomly finding a rope after he needed one, the car miraculously working again after it had died, etc--but these are mainly cases of cartoon logic, don’t take these too seriously. these are observations rather than critiques), and the plot itself is very bare-bones. this is moreso a series of mishaps rather than a cartoon with a concrete storyline.

yet, with that said, i still enjoy it. the animation is the best part of the cartoon. i’m a very detail oriented person, and not a big picture person, which serves me well and detrimentally at the same time. so, i absolutely love how fluid, bouncy, and fun the animation is in this cartoon. that’s certainly an incentive to watch it. carl stalling’s music score, as always, compliments the cartoon quite nicely. and furthermore, this cartoon has some historical significance to it. not very much, but it’s there: it’s gabby’s first cartoon. that serves as another incentive to watch--gabby isn’t too exciting of a character, but he’s so fascinating to me that i can’t help but like him. he’s like a hidden secret. porky’s first sidekick, unless you count beans, but porky was moreso beans’ sidekick rather than beans being porky’s sidekick. gabby’s pretty obscure, but someone from the simpsons was a big enough classic cartoon fan to know who he was--they make a reference to him as “disgruntled goat”. this could be a coincidence, sure, but i’m definitely thinking this is a reference, especially considering another episode referenced friz freleng’s pigs is pigs from earlier in 1937. 

in all, this isn’t a great cartoon, and you probably COULD go without watching it and be fine, but i say watch it. there’s some wonderful animation and it has some interesting history, such as ub iwerks’ first cartoon at WB and gabby’s first cartoon. check it out for yourself and see what you think!

link!

[trashmenofmarvel]

Devil’s Backbone - Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!Reader

Summary: With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors. (This fic is explicit, 18+ only, dubcon in earlier chapters)

Word Count: 2k

AO3

Steve Rogers was alive. There was still no sign of Bucky.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Wilson scoured the riverbank and found Rogers first, half-drowned but alive. And when you arrived a few minutes later, he’d pointed out a set of boot prints in the mud. They were uneven, the left print deeper than the right, as if the owner had an uneven gait.

Or, more specifically, that his left side was heavier due to a solid metal arm.

“Might wanna cover those up before the cavalry gets here,” Wilson said quietly as he kneeled next to an unconscious Steve Rogers. He didn’t have to tell you twice; you muddled the boot prints with your own, following the trail along the riverbank in a desperate bid to find Bucky at the end. Your luck didn’t hold. You lost track of him within the underbrush and trees, the muddy riverbank becoming soft, leaf-strewn grass.

The rest of the day sped by in a chaotic blur, leaving you little time to reflect. The doctors at the hospital ran a full batch of tests, including MRIs and CAT scans to make sure HYDRA’s torture wouldn’t have any lasting effects. After giving you an intravenous round of saline and antibiotics, they discharged you from the hospital. Instead of going back to your apartment, you waited in the ICU with Wilson for Rogers to wake up.

When he did, he didn’t waste any time in telling you that he knew Bucky was alive. He remembered Bucky reaching down to him and pulling out from the water.

There Steve Rogers was, lying in a hospital bed, and he was more concerned about his friend than himself. You should have never doubted him, never let Rumlow get inside your head even for a moment, but he had. You knew the shame would linger, his betrayal haunting your thoughts, staining your sense of peace for a long time.

But for now, you reached across the bed and clasped Roger’s hand. He looked up at you, surprise in his blue eyes. And then he smiled.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone. Your team was gone. Rumlow was, to your great regret, still alive but at least in critical condition and under heavy guard in the hospital burn unit.

Your entire life had fallen to pieces just as surely as those Helicarriers had, but you had to hope that Bucky was still alive. There was no alternative you would accept.

It hurt, though, the knowledge that he didn’t come to you for help. You thought you had gotten through to him, earned his trust. Maybe you had and he simply stayed away in a misguided attempt to keep you safe. That sounded like him, but did you really know Bucky Barnes? Did he even know himself?

You didn’t have a satisfying answer, but you still held out hope that he would appear on your doorstep one day, wishing to see those blue eyes and the way they softened when they met yours.

Your doorstep remained conspicuously absent of his presence.

The days after the Battle at the Triskelion—as it was now being dubbed by the media during the flurry of news stories that followed for weeks—were both easier and harder. Harder, because you had to start over. Easier, because it came with a sense of freedom.

Fury (just Fury, now, no longer Director Fury) hadn’t been killed but it had been a close call. He had allowed HYDRA to believe he was dead so he could help Rogers unhindered, and really, you shouldn’t have expected anything less from the former Director. Either way, you told him you were glad he was alive, and with a rare look of amusement he said he had “too much to do to die just yet.”

He even asked you to go to Europe with him to help root out the last vestiges of HYDRA. It was a tempting offer, but you declined, as did Rogers. Fury glanced between the two of you with a twitch of his lips, as if he knew exactly why the two of you were staying. Hell, he probably did know why.

When Tony Stark asked you to come work for him (“I don’t know how you convinced the Winter Soldier to switch sides, but someone who can piss off HYDRA that badly needs to be on my payroll. Free room and board, fastest Wi-Fi in the world—Say, you don’t mind polygraphs, do you?”), you accepted his offer. Rogers had warned you ahead of time that Iron Man himself was going to scoop you up after S.H.I.E.L.D.’s inevitable dissolution. You found the idea of leaving D.C. not as hard as you thought. There was nothing to leave behind but tainted memories.

Being around Rogers, Romanoff, and even Agent Hill made it feel as if you weren’t leaving everything behind. When Wilson said you were a great fit for the team, very loudly, over celebratory drinks, you felt terrified. You felt hope.

Team. Group. Friends. The words were a goddamn minefield after everything that had happened over the past few days, but you swallowed down the fear and anxiety because you had to. The Avengers had the resources you needed if you were ever going to find Bucky again.

And you would find him, you decided. No matter what the results were.

You waited on the closed seat of your toilet, trying not to bounce your leg up and down. Had it been five minutes yet? You checked your phone, brand new because your old one had never been recovered.

One minute to go.

You were a bundle of frazzled nerves, a strange mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You just wanted to know, one way or another, before you gave yourself an ulcer over possible what-if scenarios. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since your period hadn’t arrived on time. Sure, an irregular cycle coming off of birth control pills was normal, but there was the chance it was due to something else entirely.

At the time, with the impending crisis of the launch, HYDRA revealing itself to the world, and Rumlow’s hideous betrayal, you had had bigger things to worry about.

For the past twenty-four hours, all you had done was worry.

The phone timer chimed next to your head, causing you to jump. You quickly shut it off and rose to your feet. You leaned against the bathroom counter, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. And then you opened them.

One red line. Not pregnant.

The air went out of your lungs and you held yourself up on the edge of the sink. You didn’t know what you were feeling exactly, but there was a lot of it.

Relief? Sure, there was a big helping of that. It was to be expected, but there was also a tiny kernel of disappointment in your chest. Now that was a surprise.

With a troubled frown, you took the test stick and threw it in the trash. It was better this way. You didn’t know Bucky. Not really.

You rubbed the back of your neck, irritated and angry at yourself. It was stupid and desperate and pathetic to be even a little disappointed, wasn’t it? Becoming a single parent was the last thing you needed. Did you even like kids? No idea, since you’d never even thought about having them before.

Yeah, definitely better this way. Now you could focus on your new job, not to mention your covert side mission with Rogers.

As if on cue, your phone dinged. There was only insomniac who would be messaging you at three in the morning, and you wondered how many sandbags he had broken before picking up his phone. Already you were learning the patterns of your teammates.

You lifted your phone and looked at the message on the lock screen.

S. Rogers: Williams, message me back when you get this.

You unlocked your phone and quickly typed out your response.

What’s up?

The phone buzzed half a minute later, letting you know you had an incoming call. You answered it quickly.

“Hi. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Steve’s voice drifted into your ear. It was still strange to think of Captain America as Steve, but you’d have to get used to it at some point.

He sounded alert, untouched by sleep, just as you’d known he would be. What took you by surprise was the background noise drifting over the line. It sounded like he was in a car.

“Nope,” you responded as you walked into the kitchen. You picked up the pregnancy test carton on the counter and stared at the cover. Glared at it, really, as if the cartoon mother and baby on the cover had done you personal injury. “Wide awake.”

“You all packed yet?”

You glanced around the room and sighed at the half-filled cardboard boxes.

“That good, huh?”

“It’s a work in progress,” you said vaguely. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, knowing Steve wasn’t calling you for an update on how far along you were on packing up for the move to Stark Tower. “Are you driving?”

He hesitated long enough to pique your curiosity.

“Yeah, I am. I was hoping I could pull you away for a bit. What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

You were beginning to suspect what the call was about, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Regardless, you made sure your tone was even. One never knew who was listening on unsecured lines. “Probably more packing. Why?”

“Thought maybe you could use a break and come up to New York early. Just for a couple days. Maybe see an old friend. Interested?”

Your heart picked up speed at the phrase ‘old friend.’

“Sure,” you answered with a casualness you didn’t feel. “You can take me on a tour of your old stomping grounds.”

“Great.” His normally stern voice loosened and there was genuine warmth there.

“What time?”

“Uh…” He sounded chagrined. “In about thirty seconds? I just turned down your street.”

You hoped he could hear the sigh you gave through the line. Looked like you were pulling an all-nighter, but there was no way you were going to say no to his offer. Not if it meant what you suspected it did.

“Well, in that case, I get to nap in the car,” you answered with false cheer. “And you’re helping me pack when we get back.”

“I suppose that’s only fair,” he chuckled genuinely. “See you in a minute.”

You hung up but remained in that position, still staring at the empty carton as you reflected on Steve’s call. Someone matching Bucky’s description must have been spotted in New York. Only Romanoff and Wilson knew you and Steve were actively searching for him; not even your new boss was aware of your extracurricular project. With any luck, you would catch up to Bucky before someone else did. HYDRA may be officially gone, but there were plenty of other governmental agencies, both federal and international, who wanted the former Winter Soldier in their custody.

You glanced at the carton one last time and tossed it into the trash, your thoughts already turned toward the future and New York.

Next Chapter

[anistarrose]

To See The Unseen - Ch. 3 (Gravity Falls)

Summary: Mabel and Pacifica both receive visits from ghosts with very different intentions.

Warnings: nightmares, brief canon-typical violence, descriptions of a hospital room

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/20884673/chapters/50274419

This is starting to look more like a five-chapter fic because I got an idea for an epilogue, so stay tuned for two more parts after this one!

***

Truth be told, Stan had thought that entering Mabel’s dreams would be harder. He wasn’t sure if he’d been expecting her to resist, or simply that it would’ve taken more concentration on his part — but in reality, all he had to do was blink, and when he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by vivid colors and funny animals.

It frightened him the more he thought about it, knowing that it was probably this easy for Bill too, and that this was all the effort it took for him to enter someone’s mind with his surely less-than-benevolent intentions. Stan hoped that Bill wasn’t watching him now and getting any ideas — because at the end of the day, the threat of his family being tormented scared Stan more than imprisonment in a mirror ever would. It didn’t seem like that realization had occurred to Bill yet, but there was no telling what he might do if he noticed Stan poking around in Mabel’s dreams…

But there wasn’t much Stan could do about that now, other than try and get in and out of here as quickly as possible.

“Mabel?” he called, stepping over a sleeping Ducktective as he surveyed the area. “You in here, pumpkin?”

A sickeningly neon young man, who Stan recognized from one of Mabel’s favorite direct-to-VHS 80’s cartoon movies, stuck his head out of a nearby bounce house and blinked a few times, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Hey dude, you look suspiciously not-radical! You’re not from ‘round here, are you? What do you want from us?”

Stan held up his hands. “Look, I’m just trying to talk to my niece. Trust me, I know exactly how weird this is, and I don’t like it either! I don’t want to be invading her dreams, and I definitely didn’t mean to get turned into a ghost —”

“Oh! You’re from the real world, aren’t you? That would make more sense.”

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I be from?”

The dream boy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mabel has other dreams besides us sometimes — hard to believe, I know. But those dreams… they’re pretty different from us. We don’t really vibe with them, if you know what I mean, so we keep our difference — or at least, we try to, but they still sneak in here sometimes. More often than usual, lately.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” Stan muttered. “Mabel wouldn’t happen to be with those… those other dreams now, would she?”

The dream boy shrugged. “I dunno, man. Why don’t you follow her footprints and find out?”

“Footprints?” Stan looked down, and sure enough, a set of tracks was visible in the golden, crystalline sand beneath his feet. The imprints were too small to be from his own dress shoes, but just the right size and shape to have been left by Mabel’s sneakers. “Oh, those prints. Thanks for the tip, uh… which one are you again? Xyler or Craz?”

“Even I don’t know, bro! What even is the self, when the only reality I’ve ever known is just a series of another being’s fleeting dreams? David Hume postulated that —”

“Alrighty then, I’m gonna go find Mabel now.” As the dream boy grew preoccupied with quoting dead philosophers, Stan set off in the direction of the footprints — following them down the hill, past a group of sledding stuffed animals, and into a forest of lava lamps. Mabel had taken a winding and haphazard path, doubling back on herself a few times, and Stan got the feeling she’d been more or less sleepwalking, without any specific goal in mind.

He exited the forest to find himself standing on a beach, where the yellow sand fizzed and popped like crystalline candy where it met the waves of a deep pink ocean. The view overhead was as clear as could be, with countless fantastical constellations animating and chasing each other across the dark purple sky, and the whole place smelled of sugar and artificial fruit flavorings.

But the whole coast was barren of life except for Mabel’s footsteps, which led directly into the water.

“Mabel?” Stan called. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

Maybe his voice was still as silent to her ears as it had been in the real world. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to hear him even if he found her.

But he couldn’t just give up now. He followed in Mabel’s footsteps towards the fizzing boundary between crystals and ocean, pinching his nose as the smell intensified, and then stepped in.

Instantly, he realized it wasn’t water. It was more like syrup, sticky and viscous and sickly-sweet, and the receding waves tugged him forwards until he was in up to his knees before he knew it. But he had a better view at what lay beneath the surface now, and he could make out a small, blurry light source illuminating the ocean from below — yellow and five-pointed, like the shooting star on Mabel’s favorite sweater.

“Is that you, sweetie? Can you hear me?”

He was up to his waist now, then to his shoulders. He stood on his tiptoes as the ocean floor slowly dissolved beneath him. Instinctively, he knew he still had a chance to struggle free and escape the dream, but with each wave that passed by him, he only grew only more and more determined that he wasn’t going to leave.

“Hang tight, Mabel. I’m coming.” He took a deep breath, and dove beneath the surface.

Surrounded by dense liquid and fizzing bubbles, it was difficult to see and even more difficult to move — but Stan imagined himself sinking towards the light, and sure enough, some force propelled him downwards. He always had been good at manipulating what happened in his own lucid dreams, and it was reassuring to know that the talent had carried over to Mabel’s dreams too.

The star was coming into clearer focus, and Stan extended an arm towards it, only to hit something solid that collapsed beneath the force of his touch. The dark purple seafloor began to crumble away, revealing an even darker chasm below in which the star still floated, and a whirlpool swirled into existence around it, catching Stan in its vortex and pulling him in —

He crashed through the earthen roof of a room he didn’t recognize, nearly hitting his head against a boulder as a deluge of water carried him down the tunnel. It took him a few seconds to come to his senses, but when he did, he instantly recognized the voice he heard echoing from within the next room:

“Take that! And that, you shapeshifting jerk!”

“Mabel!” Stan broke into a frantic run, hurtling around the corner —

He saw an alien, insectoid monster with bulging red eyes swing its claw-like arm towards Mabel, but she darted out of the way and clocked it on the head with a piece of pipe. It collapsed like a rag doll the second she struck it, toppling to the ground and slowly shrinking until it resembled…

“No,” Mabel whispered, “no, no, no…”

The shapeshifter, now in the form of Stan’s unconscious body in his hospital gown, heaved out one last breath before lying very still as Mabel rushed to its side.

“Grunkle Stan, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! You’re going to be okay, you have to be okay, I didn’t mean to —”

“Mabel!” Stan rushed to her side and gently pulled her away by her shoulders, lifting her up and wrapping her in a hug. “It’s okay, sweetie. That guy’s just a nightmare — the real me is right here with you, and I’m okay, I promise.”

“What?” Mabel had instinctively buried her face in the shoulder of Stan’s suit as she cried, but she looked up now, a realization beginning to dawn on her. “Grunkle Stan? Why are you… glowing blue?”

“I had a little accident,” Stan admitted, “but you and me and your brother are all gonna fix it together. I know we can.”

He set her down on the ground, and snapped his fingers in the direction of the shapeshifter’s body, which promptly dissolved into a swarm of swarm of blue fireflies that took off through the bunker. “That’s better. Having to look at that guy was no fun, was it?”

Mabel rubbed her eyes. “Am I dreaming?”

“No! Well, yeah, but this is the real me you’re talking to — and you’ve gotta bear with me here, you can’t wake up just yet. There’s a lot I still need to tell you!”

“What happened to you? How are you unconscious in real life, but also in my dreams?”

“I… found a cursed artifact. Like, really, really cursed — it looked just like a fancy compact mirror, but it pulled my soul out of my body… hey, you know what? Let me ask you a weird question: you know Bill Cipher, right?”

Mabel immediately tensed up. “He did this to you?!”

“Not quite,” Stan corrected her. “I did this to myself — just me and my recklessness, all on our own — but Bill stopped by a while ago to tell me how the mirror worked.”

He held out a hand and concentrated, summoning an image of the mirror much like Bill had earlier, as he gave Mabel the condensed version of what had happened to him and everything he’d learned from Bill. He left out the bits about Ford and the portal, as well as the detail about how a new person scrying should in theory release him — he didn’t want the kids getting any dumb ideas. He didn’t want them trying what he’d do if their roles were reversed.

“He said that once it’s been twenty-four hours since I used the mirror — so at about eleven PM tonight, I guess — I’ll be trapped inside the portrait forever.” Mabel gasped, and he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Bill said he could get me out, but only if I do him a favor — which I’m never going to do. Not after everything he’s done to my family. I’m not taking his deal.”

“But you can’t just give up!” Mabel told him, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit and shaking him with surprising force. “We need you back here with us, Grunkle Stan!”

“I’m not giving up. I never will — we’ve got that in common, all of us Pines.” Stan smiled, despite himself. “There’s only one time I’ve ever given up in my life, and that was when Gideon took the Shack — but you know how that turned out. You and Dipper saved the day, and proved me wrong.” He patted Mabel on the head, mussing up her hair. “And now I know better than to lose hope ever again.”

“But how will you get back in your body all on your own? Do you have a plan?”

“Not really,” Stan admitted. “Not yet. But I know the type of guy Bill is, and I know how he works. He’s just a big old liar, and he’s not always as good at it as he thinks he is. He’ll make it sound like I’m doomed without his help, but odds are, there’s a loophole somewhere that I can use to escape all on my own. We just need to get the mirror back from the Northwests, so you and Dipper can take a look at it and put his nerd brain, my scam artist brain, and your creative brain together to figure this thing out.”

Mabel took him by the hands. “And if we can’t find a loophole in time?”

“I do have a Plan B, if it comes down to it. There’s definitely a reason why it’s not Plan A, but… it’s always there in case we need it.”

Mabel stared into his eyes, tightening her grip on his hands. “Promise me you won’t do anything risky, Grunkle Stan? We’ve all been really worried about you — Dipper and Wendy and Soos and I…”

“I’m not leaving you, kiddo. Promise.”

Mabel hugged him. “Good.”

Her arms began to flicker, as did Stan’s, and the dream slowly faded to white.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re awake, so you’re going to have to get the others caught up. But I’ll see you again soon, don’t worry.”

He blinked, and found himself floating in the hospital room again, watching Mabel wake up and rub her eyes.

“Hey, Mabel,” Soos said glumly. He looked more exhausted than Stan had ever seen him, even on the days he’d tried to come into work sick. “There haven’t been any updates…”

“You guys, I had an idea!” Dipper practically kicked the door open as he barged back into the room, and Mabel jumped.

“We could use the mindscape spell to find Stan’s memory of how he got knocked unconscious! And if those memories work anything like the way they did last time we were in his mind, we might even be able to communicate directly — Mabel, what’s so funny? This is a serious idea —”

Mabel snickered as she shook her head it Dipper. “You’re right, it is a good idea — but the thing is, Stan kinda already beat you to it.”

***

The hospital room’s quietly ticking clock read 12:15 PM when Mabel finally finished catching the others up on what Stan had told her through her dream.

“You said the Northwests have the mirror now?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah, Stan saw Pacifica take it back to their mansion.”

“The Northwests would never willingly let us take something valuable they owned even if they had two hundred extras,” Wendy declared. “I vote we break in and steal it.”

Mabel gasped. “Okay, Pacifica may be a rich one-dimensional jerk, but she’s not a murderer! If we told her our grunkle’s life was in jeopardy, I’m sure she’d help us!”

“Break in anyway,” Stan told them. “Why are you passing up a morally justifiable chance to do crime?”

“You’re probably right, but I’m not betting Stan’s life on a spoiled rich kid’s moral compass,” Dipper told Mabel. “And even if she does want to help, there’s no guarantee her parents would go along with it.”

“I saw on the news the other day that her parents are out of town for the weekend,” Soos spoke up. “Took a big helicopter and everything.”

“Oh, that explains why they haven’t thrown a hissy fit yet about how the Nathaniel Northwest statue from the town square got stolen last night,” Wendy said. “The second they see it’s gone, they’ll probably sue the city for ruining their family’s image or something.”

Stan groaned. “We have eleven hours! Eleven hours, and you’re on track to spend all of them just sitting here torturing me by exchanging Northwest gossip!”

Dipper flipped through Journal 3. “The Author was no fan of the Northwests. I wonder if he left any blackmail material on them that we haven’t exhausted yet…”

Ford. The realization hit Stan like a truck. I’ve been stuck as a ghost for half the day and I haven’t even tried to do the thing I wanted the mirror for in the first place. I haven’t tried to find Ford!

The kids continued talking amongst themselves, though most of their words went in one of Stan’s ears and out the other.

They’ll be at this for a while — I’ve got time. I made it into Mabel’s dreams, how hard can it be to do the same thing with my own twin? I can do this. I can finally see him again…

The voices and other ambient sounds of the hospital faded as he concentrated on his brother’s face, and reached out into unfamiliar expanse of the multiverse.

***

“Here’s what I don’t get, Grandpa. Can I call you Grandpa? ‘Great-Great-Grandfather’ takes too long to say.”

Cracks formed at the statue’s shoulder and elbows as Nathaniel repositioned his stone arms into a shrug. Why not?

“Why did you only come back to haunt us now? You died almost a hundred and forty years ago, from that riding accident —”

Nathaniel’s eyes flashed orange, and wisps of smoke began to snake out from between the cracks in the statue. Riding accident? Is that what they told you? Well, it certainly did happen at the stables…

“...It didn’t have anything to do with the horses there, did it?” Pacifica realized out loud. “It was the mirror!”

Tell me, granddaughter: what else do the history books say about me? Do they talk about my discoveries in the field of the occult?

Pacifica shook her head.

Of course they don’t! Nathaniel roared. My own two children, Felicity and Eli, disapproved of my study of the monstrous. They thought our influence as Northwests should only extend to the mundane — and so, as I aged and they took more control of the family fortune for themselves, they conspired against me to hide my discoveries from the public! I was a nineteenth-century wizard, Pacifica, and they thought I was insane! I could’ve extended the Northwest’s influence to a whole new society of supernatural beings, but they called me a crazy old man and hired servants to keep me far away from the woods of Gravity Falls!

“That’s horrible! You had a vision, and they stifled it!”

It was horrible indeed, Nathaniel agreed, but the worst betrayal was yet to come.

He gestured to the lantern Pacifica had brought on her ride last night, which was now resting on her bedside table. I see you found my old lantern — did you know that with just a tiny tuft of animal hair added to the oil, it gains the power to illuminate ghosts? I developed that spell myself!

“Really? I didn’t even know this lantern was yours — you must be some kind of genius to develop that spell on your own!”

I certainly am, and it brings me no small amount of joy to see a member of my own line finally appreciating my work! One day when my overbearing children were out of town, I used that lantern to follow several spirits through the forest and out to the farthest reaches of the town, where I discovered a cave —

His voice lowered to a growl. And inside that cave, I found the beast.

The smoke escaping from his ghostly form condensed into a triangular shape, which Nathaniel smashed between two stone fists. Though at the time, I called him my Muse — I had a great many questions, and he had answers. For several months, I made discovery after discovery — capturing new anomalies for scientific analysis, charting the woods and the cave systems…

“But he turned on you too, didn’t he?”

At first, it was just simple disagreements. Different priorities. He wanted us to study other worlds, but I thought Gravity Falls still had untapped potential! More territory to annex, more undocumented supernatural residents to charge rent for their use of our lands — do you have any idea how rich unicorns are? They practically frolick in fields of golden coins! My Muse grew impatient with me, refusing to answer any of my questions that didn’t relate to gates between worlds, but I kept summoning him. Who did he think he was, withholding information from me? From Nathaniel Northwest?!

A hand made of smoke extended from the statue, taking hold of the mirror. But when I told him as much, my Muse not only ‘apologized,’ but in his infinite wisdom, suggested a ‘solution.’ He admitted that he was disinterested in my current work, but helped me create a device that would make me just as all-seeing as he was, so I could continue my research all on my own. And for twenty-four hours… the mirror worked like a charm. I was omniscient.

He flipped open the mirror to reveal the current picture — depicting a gray-haired man in a familiar suit and tie, still lacking facial features. But when my portrait was completed, I was trapped. I couldn’t see anything, least of all my mortal body. My power only grew over my years of imprisonment, and I transformed from a ghost that couldn’t touch the physical world into this powerful specter you see now, but in a cruel twist of fate, I couldn’t leave the mirror to do anything with that power.

Pacifica squinted at the current portrait. “Hang on. Is that…”

Be careful, granddaughter. Stare into the mirror with the intent to scry, and you’ll be trapped yourself. Nathaniel snapped the mirror shut.

The isolation wasn’t even the worst part, he went on. No, the worst part was thirty-two years ago, when I glimpsed freedom! A foolish young researcher was snooping on Northwest property and found my reflective prison, attempting to scry and freeing me in the process — but as it turned out, he was my Muse’s new pupil. His more useful pupil. And so that beast cast a spell over the mirror he’d instructed me to create, freeing his current pawn and trapping me back inside!

“But what did he and his new pawn end up doing? You mentioned something about other worlds — was he some kind of alien?”

If you haven’t seen the result of the beast’s plans all these years later, then he surely failed, Nathaniel mused. Good for him. I can concentrate on extending the family business to the supernatural market, and finally prove my children wrong!

He rubbed his chin. Though at least they managed to insert me in all the history books as town founder, earning me the posthumous respect I deserve! And commissioned a mighty fine statue to commemorate me, at that —

“Actually, Grandpa,” Pacifica interrupted, “most of the town knows you weren’t the founder, as of last Pioneer Day.”

They WHAT?

“Yeah, uh… a couple of kids my age, Dipper and Mabel Pines, dug up some top secret Quentin Trembley documents. Dipper especially made a big deal about rubbing it in my face and telling as many people as possible.”

A tiny bit of stone from one of the statue’s eyes liquified, dropping to the ground and hissing as it struck the floor.

Well then, Nathaniel murmured, I’ll have to let those meddling Pines children know that that’s unacceptable.

***

“I’m gonna stay here,” Soos told the others as they prepared to set off for Northwest Mansion. He pointed towards Stan’s body. “It just feels like someone should stick around to keep an eye on him, you know?”

“Good idea,” Dipper agreed. “That way, you can text Wendy if the doctors have updates.”

Mabel glanced around the room, not sure quite what she was looking for. “You’re here watching us, aren’t you, Stan? If you’re ready to go get the mirror back, can you give us some kind of sign?”

Aside from the ticking clock and beeping heart monitor, the room fell silent. No chills moved through the air, and no objects suspiciously fell off shelves.

“Well, I’m sure he’s still keeping an eye on us,” Mabel assured the others. “Let’s get going.”

***

(End notes:

Thanks for reading, comments/reblogs are appreciated as always! This is the chapter that’s changed the most from the outline so far, since I really love mindscape stuff and elaborated on Mabel’s dream a lot more than I’d planned to. Also, Nathaniel is an overdramatic monologuing capitalist asshole and writing him is very fun.)

[realfuurikuuri]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Mao Mao/Tanya Keys, Mao mao/badgerclops

MissingArm!AU: When escaping the cave, it wasn't his tail that got crushed. In exchange for his innocence, he gained a sordid past. The Pure Heart Valley seemed like a good place to escape. To start a new life with a new family to forge a new identity. However, when the past rears its ugly head Mao Mao's forced to step up or be put down.

MissingArm!AU Chapter 6: The Torment of A Son

CW: Graphic Depiction of Injury and Body Horror

This one took some time to put out. Finals are a bitch (I say that, but the lowest grade I got on any of them was a C) and I've been busy playing games during winter break. I'm going to need to edit some tags after putting this up. This chapter is a perfect 10 pages which I really do like and is the second of the 3-part set, so there's that. If it's been too long since you read the last chapter and you don't exactly remember it I would recommend going to read that again since the set is a single story split into 3 parts. The song recommendation here is You're Insane - Escape the Fate. Heads up, if you followed @spookylovesboba on Tumblr you're going to want to do that again because their account got nuked for some reason.

Direct Link to Chapter 6 on AO3: XXXX

Chapter Below the Cut

Mao Mao struggled to look at his father. He’d like to say it was the sun, shining off his armor like a flashbang, but something in his chest hurt more than his eyes. Mao Mao licked his lips and rolled his tongue. There was something he wanted to say, however, he did need time to figure out what it was. He nearly bit his tongue when Papa slapped him on the back again.

“So, you gonna invite me in or are we just gonna chill outside.”

“Right, right, right…” Mao Mao droned off, shaking the handle when it didn’t open.

Did he drop his keys, or did Jǐngtì take them? He’d have to make a copy when Badgerclops got back.

“You lost your keys? Tsk, tsk, tsk, you gotta learn how to be more responsible to take care and be aware of things.” Shin simply walked through the door, doorframe, and wall, smashing the front of the house.

Mao Mao barely caught himself from calling the hypocrite out, but he bit his tongue and swallowed his anger. He looked at the sky making a mental note to do something with the hole before it stormed tonight.

Mao Mao carefully stepped over the broken wood while Shin looked around. He watched his father prowl around the room, finger to his chin, lips moving as he mumbled. If he tried he could probably understand the mumbles, but he let the words gloss over his ears. It was the best way to be near his father. Mao Mao would rather not listen to this jackasses’ bullshit.

“Hey, Mao Mao,” Shin said, making Mao Mao turn up his head. “You’ve set a solid little place here. I’ve got to hand that to you.”

Papa laughed and walked into the kitchen. Mao Mao balled his hand into a fist and followed him.

Papa was making himself quite at home. Mao Mao watched him search through cabinets and drawers from the doorway. He could tell his father wasn’t moving aimlessly; he was looking for something. Mao Mao was going to ask when Shin glossed over the fridge and then doubled back. Mao Mao wondered if the idiot was looking for a bite to eat when Papa pulled off one of Adorabat’s drawings. He stared down at it intently: brow creased, rubbing his chin with a “hmm” sound.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A drawing.”

“Of course, but…”

He handed the drawing to Mao Mao. It was crude and done in crayon, but there were a few unmistakable things about it. Lined up on a grassy hill was Adorabat, him, Tanya, Jǐngtì, and Badgerclops. He had to wonder how long it was up there. He never noticed it. The picture had a distinct family photo-like quality to it. He had to find some way to spin this.

He handed the picture back. “It’s a picture from an admirer. A small child called Adorabat. She’s the blue one.”

“Odd color… who names their child Adorabat,” Shin mumbled.

Who names their child Mao Mao Mao?

“Who are the other people?”

He blinked a few times. “Those are just… some people I know. The one with the eyepatch -the black spot on his face- is Badgerclops. My partner. The brown one is Tanya Keys: a bounty hunter who was here a little bit ago.”

“What about this one?” Papa pointed at the brown cat.

Mao Mao took a deep breath. “That’s Tanya’s son.”

“Feel like I’ve seen his face before,” Papa snapped his fingers with a clang,” yeah. I’ve seen his face on wanted posters… in Queen’s Putland.”

“He’s... been headed down the wrong path,” he said.

Mao Mao didn’t notice himself drifting off. He only snapped back when Papa cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure his mother can get a handle on him,” he said.

“I hope she can.”

Papa picked up the magnet and stuck it back on the fridge.

He didn’t ask about the other pictures.

Papa moved on, sifting through drawers before he sighed and scratched his head,” Hey, do you know where you keep your fist aid kit?”

“Yeah, it's in the bathroom. Under the sink," Mao Mao continued,” why? You cut yourself or something?”

Papa gave him a look of utter confusion. An eyebrow raised, lips parted slightly, like he Mao Mao wasn’t speaking the same language. “What? No. I’m getting it for you. You’re trackin’ blood all over the place. You look like you gave someone an arm and a leg,” he chuckled uncomfortably.

Mao Mao looked behind himself at the splotches of blood he’s tracked all over the house. His first thought was how hard the blood would be to get out of his nice hardwood floors. Then the dull pain reminded him of his wounds. He felt some kind of concern; a need to drop everything and call for help. It was the dying gasp of whatever self-preservation instinct he had left. All that just seemed so exhausting. He didn’t come home to start stitching wounds or deal with his father. He just wanted to rest.  

“I’ll clean it up,” Mao Mao said, already walking to get the mop when Papa grabbed him by the shoulder.  

“I’ll get the first-aid kit,” Papa said,” Why don’t you just... go have a seat.”

Mao Mao did as he was told. He limped his way to the living room couch and waited. He could hear his father rummaging around in the bathroom before coming back with the first-aid kit between his massive metal fingers and washbasin under his other arm. Everything always looked so small compared to him.

Mao Mao took the kit without hesitation. Papa sat down and watched him work. Only having one arm made things harder, his tail did help, but some things were more difficult than before. He started with his feet first, washing them in the basic, applying ointment to the worn away paw-pads, and then wrapping them in gauze.

The shard of glass in his side was next.  A foreign object lodged in his lower right side below the kidneys and above the intestines. He supposed it was similar to a gunshot wound (although the shard of glass was larger and jagged), so he treated the procedure much of the same. He wrapped the gauze tightly around his torso seat-belt style to staunch the blood before getting a pair of tweezers to play a game of operation. He reached in, tightly grabbing the shard of glass. He ignored the fatigue burning in his only arm as he did his best to slowly and carefully pull it out.

Mao Mao did his best to focus on what he was doing, yet his mind naturally wandered. It bounced from fleeting topic to fleeting topic, although a few questions liked to show up. Jǐngtì was one of them. More specifically, why did Jǐngtì hate him? The question was like a hot stove. Every time Mao Mao got close he was burned by a stinging well of emotions. He turned his attention away from the stove but cattish curiosity always dared him to put his fingers to the burner.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.

It didn't help that the next thing curiosity would lead him to was his father which was arguably worse. He watched Papa out the corner of his eye. He intently watched his son work without being direct, sneaking glances or watching him in the reflection of the stupid golden armor. He leaned forward, dominant hand folded over the other. He wanted to do something; he wanted to help.

Papa did nothing. Of course, he did nothing. He never does anything. The only thing Papa ever taught him was to do everything on his own.  If Papa really wanted to help he’d explain why Jǐngtì hated him.

A sharp pain yanked Mao Mao out of his thoughts. It's what he gets for not paying attention. He quickly set aside the freed shard of glass, parting the wound with his hand to get a good look.

It was a fountain of blood. Deep breaths. A racing heart won’t help.

Be calm and quick, he reminded himself. The first step was dabbing most of the blood away and cleaning it with water, check to make sure no debris is in the wound, then grab a needle and thread. There was a prick of pain as it pierced his skin, and the sting as the thread was pulled through.

Mao Mao didn’t let his missing arm stop him from doing things; his tail could work as a replacement more often than not, but there were some things best done with two hands. He held the needle in between his claws trying over and over to get the needle the other side. He grimaced at the painful pricks that were too shallow to pull the needle through. The bleeding hadn’t stopped; he was beginning to feel woozy. The tips of his fingers were numb. Was his anxiety from blood loss or knowing that he was having this much trouble just trying to finish one suture?

The needle fell from Mao Mao’s paws that were slick in his blood. Mao Mao scrambled to pick up the needle. He was so busy that he didn’t notice anything around him. It was only when Papa placed his paw over his son’s did Mao Mao stop.

“I’ll do it,” he said,” just be still.”

He didn’t have to tell him to be still; Mao Mao already was. He didn’t worry about blood loss either, because he was sure his heart had stopped.

Papa was out of his armor. Papa was out of his armor. He didn’t know anyone who’d seen him out of it. Not even his sisters had seen that. He was sure of it. He’d asked Brunhilde about the armor and she said it’d been grafted to his skin in a battle with a fire demon. Minori said that the armor was cursed by magic so he couldn’t take it off. Each of his sisters had a different story. All of them agreed on one thing: that Papa couldn’t take his armor off

There he was. A small shriveled up mockery of a man dressed in a weird-looking jumpsuit. And he was helping him. Was this Papa an imposter? Was it some stroke of luck? Did he fall into some strange alternate universe where Papactually cared about his son?

“What happened?”

“Huh?”

“How’d you end up like,” Shin gestured vaguely,” this?”

“I got into a fight.”

“Did you win?”

Mao Mao stiffened at the question. Whether he won, wasn’t important.

“Why’d you visit,” Mao Mao asked, quickly shifting the topic.

“You didn’t visit for the summer. We had to celebrate Tanabata without you.”

Mao Mao sank back into the sofa. He’d completely forgotten Tanabata was last week. This was the first time he’d missed Tanabata since he lost his arm.

“How’s the family,” he asked flatly.

“They’re fine. Nothing really, although everyone was asking about you. News that you’d settled down as a sheriff traveled fast. Funny, I always thought you’d stay a vagabond.”

Mao Mao felt something. It was a warm feeling that nearly made him cry. It reminded him of a hug from his mom. Had Papa finally grown a heart?

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Yeah, you're mother asked me to check on you.”

Of course, he didn’t.

“Turn around so I can stitch up the wounds on your back,” he said,” Moo Moo. Moo Moo.”

Mao Mao didn’t move.

“Turn around, Mee Mee.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No,” Mao Mao shouted as he stood up,” and get out!”

“Wha- no! I’m not leaving you in… this shack.

“That! What is that? You suddenly walk into my home and you give me the vaguest hope that your not terrible, but every other second you act like the biggest asshole I’ve ever met.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You break down my goddamn door, you openly admit that you came here because my mother sent you instead of giving a shit yourself, and you ask if I’ve won the fight when you should be asking if we’re going to a goddamn hospital, you even call my house a shack. It's not a shack! It’s where I live!”

Mao Mao could hear his thumping in his ears. “All you do is antagonize me at every chance you get.”

“That’s no way to talk to your father.”

“You barely even count as my father. You treat every single one of my sisters better than me. I play sixth fiddle to every one of my sisters.”

“Now that’s just preposterous. Give me one example of how I treat your sisters better.”

“You know what to call my sisters, so I’ll ask this.” Mao Mao loomed over his father,” what is my name?”

“I-, uh-,” Shin stumbled over his words.

“I’ll give you a hint: it's yours too.”

“...Shin junior?”

Mao Mao didn’t know what came over him. All of the cold pain and sorrow that had built up suddenly burned red hot. He lashed out at his father. He only missed his father’s neck because Papa was as quick as he was short. He tossed the basin at his father’s head, flipped the table, and threw anything he could as he chased after him. He chased Papa through the kitchen, through the bedroom through the dojo, knocking, breaking, destroying anything and everything.

Eventually, the fire burned out. The chase ended where it started. Mao Mao slowed down, climbed on the couch, huddled himself into a little ball, and cried. He just felt so tired.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Papa said, tentatively taking a step forward.

“You,” Mao Mao sobbed,” you are why I’m always the last to show up on the holidays and the first to leave. You always manage to get under my skin....the reason I blew up this time is that...I just thought… you might have changed, or at least learned your lesson.”

Something clicked in Mao Mao’s head.”So that’s why he hates me,” Mao Mao said under his breath.

He’d heard those words earlier today. From the son to the father, and again from the son to the father. The tears had stopped; the sadness was replaced by an immense, deadening sorrow. He had become the thing he hated, the thing he detested with every fiber of his being without even trying.

“Did you know your grandfather?” Mao Mao blurted out.

Papa seemed genuinely shocked by this. His eyes went saucer-wide, and he stumbled back. “I’m what?”

“I have a son. He did this to me.  I tried to keep him from suffering from the stuff you did to me, but it turns out that I did it to him anyway. Probably worse.”

Mao Mao let out a chuckle,” God, what is this shit? Genetic?”

Papa stayed quiet.

“You should go,” he told Papa.

Quietly, Shin slipped back into his armor, turning to face the door. “Goodbye,” he said.

Mao Mao stayed quiet.

He stayed huddled up on the sofa. He didn’t know how long it was, but by the time he started moving the sky was black and thunder howled. He got up and went to the kitchen. I the fridge he grabbed every can of beer he could find; in the cabinet, he grabbed every bottle that was and wasn’t covered in a layer of dust. He sat on the floor, cracked open the first of a long set, ready for the trip down memory lane.

[lit-works]

More Untitled Daredevil fanfic. Pt.4, i think?

I have no idea what time it is when i return to the apartment. My muscles ache and all i can think about is collapsing in bed, leaving my costume on.

I awaken sometime the next day to the clatter of garbage truck hydraulics and cans being tossed cavalierly on the sidewalk. The apartment is empty, i guess that it's nearly noon.

It's not the first time I've missed the morning. I smell coffee in the kitchen, made fresh hours ago. After a quick shower, where i discover a few scrapes and bruises i didn't know i had, i get dressed. I toss my spare costume into my attache case--it may be a while before i get back to the apartment.

By the time i make it to the drop-in center, Karen is already having lunch. To my surprise, Foggy Nelson is with her.

"Nice to see you up at last." Karen says.

"Hi, Matt," Foggy adds, his voice tentative. Once we were best friends--partners. But Foggy made it clear which side he stood on concerning my current legal status.

"Good to see you, Foggy." i say, walking over to my desk.

"Matt, Foggy says that subpoena--" I hold up my hand.

"I don't want any lectures about the injunction. Not today. Not--"

"Matt," Foggy says, "This is something you can't ignore. They'll drag you into court, cite you for contempt--"

I stand up. "Don't quote the law to me, Foggy. The law is one thing. This," i snap, picking up the crumpled subpoena from where it sat the day before. "Is harassment, and here's where it belongs." i toss it into the corner, and it bounces to the floor next to the trash can.

I sense Foggy turn to Karen. They're closer now. Closer than ever before. They both think I'm out of control.

"I tried, Karen," he says, and walks out of the door with Karen following. She returns, exasperated.

"That was clever. Why don't you just alienate anyone who's ever tried to help you?"

"I suppose you'd like me to just give up? Walk right out of here, too? Spend years trying to clear my name--"

She walks over to the small laptop on her desk. "You'd better listen to this. It was on the news this morning."

"Why? What is...?"

"This city cannot--must not--become a breeding ground for vigilante groups of any stripe, costumed or not--"

Alex Wriley, a young, rich candidate for mayor. Running on a platform that includes shipping every costumed crime-fighter to Lower Slobovia or the Negative Zone. And he's doing real well with the voters, real well.

"--streets to be safe, under the protection of a properly trained and armed law enforcement department."

"Doesn't he know we work with them, for Chris'sake?! What's--"

"Wait," Karen says, "It gets worse."

His speech over, Wriley takes questions from the reporters.

"Mister Wriley, what about last night's reports that the Daredevil was seen fleeing a burning building? There are rumors of an extortion racket to get special protection."

I almost feel Wriley gloating.

"Precisely my point. Is Daredevil working for the side of the law and order, or is he just another freelance thug? Hands open to the highest bidder? I think my campaign will find the truth!" Karen clicks off the video.

"That lousy--"

"Matt, you're going to have to be careful. This Wriley is after you. He's got money. He's powerful."

I start to explain to Karen about the trap--but hold my tongue. There'll be time for talking later, when i know what's really going on.

"Right," i say, "Now, how about a trip to Staten island? Can Martin hold down the fort?"

Martin, my all-purpose file clerk, secretary, and hot-shot investigator is dealing with a crowd of people out front.

"Sure, he'll moan and groan, but love it."

"You can drive," i say smiling. "I could use another forty winks."

The ride is quiet, almost serene, and I'm glad when we reach the Nature Preserve.

"So peaceful," i say, stepping out of the car. "Hardly a breeze. I can pick up gull sounds from the shore. Smells pretty nice, too."

Karen takes my hand. "The factory is over here, over that hill."

I turn, straining to pick up anything unusual.

"Seems empty. Shall we go closer?" i ask.

"Sure, let's drive..."

"No." i give her hand a squeeze. "Let's walk. There's a path ahead. Some kind of opening."

"Yes, but--"

"I don't want to announce our arrival." I pull her along, leaving behind the gently wooded area of the nature preserve, following a makeshift trail up a scruffy hill.

"God," Karen says. "What a mess!"

I can make out the rough outline of the buildings, some gutted, some intact, a few completely gone, leaving only empty, gaping foundations.

"Must be an ugly sight." i say. Then i smell it. Something foul, noxious. It seems to scar my nostrils and burn as it enters my lungs. "There's something wrong here."

Then i hear the sound if a truck entering the property from a distance.

"Someone's coming." Karen says.

Above the roar of the truck, i sense three people, their heartbeats, the rhythm of their breathing. One of them is, yes, familiar. It's quite clear, in fact, that i met him last night--and he got away from me. That won't happen again.

"Can you see where they're headed?" i ask Karen.

"To one of the buildings, one that looks fairly intact."

"Then that's where we're headed."

Karen grabs my arm. "Matt, shouldn't we call the police and let--"

"Let them what? We're trespassing as it is, Karen. The only evidence we've got is a little old lady and my radioactive nostrils. If you want to help change the situation, then we have to see what's going on."

She nods, and i sense her trust, her faith in me, lapsing. Just another battle I'll have to fight to win back her confidence--her love.

The back of the building abuts the river. I hear the water moving back and forth, splashing onto the sharp rocks.

"Do you hear anything?" karen asks.

"Yeah, lots. There are voices, machinery, and--"

"There's a window, Matt. Hoist me up?"

"My pleasure." i reach down and pick up Karen, quickly raising her to look inside.

"A bit higher."

"I can't fly, Karen."

"That's good. I can...oh, Matt! This is terrible. This is..."

"What's the big piece of machinery, Karen? It's growing louder."

"It's digging into the ground, and there are stacks of barrels ready to be rolled into the hole. Matt, she was right, she--"

I turn, picking up the faintest footfall coming around the corner of the building. I lower Karen and try to get ready.

"Matt, what the--"

But behind me there's another sound, and i find myself between two thugs.

I might be out if costume, but I'm not about to let that slow me down. With a speed that startled the two goons, i send my hands out, using precision moves that are made possible only by boxer's reflexes.

Perfect shot--if smashing another humans jaw could ever be described that way.

Lately, i winder whether Karen is right, thinking that i like the violence...need it.

I catch the goon at my left on the chin, and he flies backward, cartoon-style. With time to spare, i cuff the other on the side of the face. Not hard enough to knock him out, but with plenty of force to send him tumbling to the ground.

Now, to just find out who these lovelies work for.

The air is suddenly filled with a high-pitch siren.

"What is it?" Karen asks.

Then i sense the two guards scrambling to their feet, running away.

"I've got to catch up to them." i say.

Karen holds me back, trying to keep me from the danger she now fears i live for.

I pull away, turn and begin running.

The sandy ground offers little support for my feet, especially when I'm wearing my clod-hopper city shoes. If only there were time to change into my costume.

The truck is already moving down the road and the two guys who attacked me climb onto the back as it pulls away. I run as fast as i can, ignoring the growing oxygen debt in my body, until it seems as if a successful leap might send me onto the back of the truck.

Despite the inelegance of my leap, I'm amazed to find that my hands close around the back panel of the truck. With one kick, i climb over.

"Hi, boys. Mind if i catch a ride?" the two thugs seem disturbed by my appearance.

"What's with the glasses--are you blind?"

"Why, are you making faces at me?" I reply.

I hear them separate, slowly moving towards the front of the truck, then they come at me. I crouch, ready to dispose of them quickly, when the truck suddenly barrels over a curb. Sending me crashing into the side wall.

Then they're on me, eager to take advantage of their lucky break. One of them closes his hand firmly around my windpipe, while the other digs into his back pocket for something.

No time for fooling around.

The truck lurched to the left--the driver doesn't seem concerned about what he's driving over. His two accomplices are jostled by the bump, and i move quickly to grab both of them, placing them in simple but effective headlocks. I squeeze just enough to let them know i might be stronger than they imagine.

"Ow." one of them yelps over the truck's engine.

"Where's this heap headed?" I yell. "Come on, guys, let's make this easy."

A small window leading to the cabin opens, and a pudgy face with pinholes for eyes looks back at me.

Then, suddenly, the entire floor of the truck flips upwards, like some kind of garbage truck. That's what it is, hauling toxic waste and dumping it where no one can see. No, no one would ever know about it until it's too late.

The three of us start sliding backwards. I let go of the thugs, but not in time to grab on and stop my fall out of the truck. I land on my feet, while the two henchmen tumble awkwardly in the sand. When they stand up, i grab them by their collars.

"I hate to get unfriendly again. Now, tell me where that truck is going."

They look at each other, then one of them begins jabbering away. "It's heading--" but he doesn't finish his sentence. He screams and the other one joins on, both of them reaching for the backs of their heads, before crumpling into the sand.

I kneel, trying to sense their heartbeats, their breathing, but get nothing.

Karen runs over to me, "Are they...?"

"Dead."

"But how? You didn't do anything?"

I feel behind one of the men's necks, find a small protrusion, and pull it out.

"Here it is." i say, handing the small device to Karen. "Radio operated, I guess. Guaranteed to keep people in line. Nasty, very nasty."

"But who'd use such a device?"

"Someone big, powerful, and unless I'm wrong, new to this town."

"Well, I've got the license plate number, we'll call the police and--"

I put my hand in Karen's shoulder. "You'll call the police. Later. After you've taken me to Brooklyn."

[harderandlesspopular]

Day 3: Post-Apocalyptic

The phalanx approaching from the east was a marvel of waving silver. The glaring sun glinted off of the wide silver and black tarp from miles away. The first calls of their arrival had sounded hours ago from the old radio tower. Everyone in town had headed towards rooftops and hills, carrying binoculars and a few even setting out small picnics to watch the approach.

The energy harvesters didn’t ride fast. Precision and care were more important than speed in their line of work. The bicyclists were heroes of the new world. The carriers of energy, the new power plants of a generation. Each turn of the pedals stored power in the batteries they carried. Each hour in the sun captured in the wide silver fabric, the thinnest and most efficient solar panels thus far.

When they had first set out on the roads seven years ago, after the great meltdown, they’d been forced to carry so much equipment the energy was barely worth the toll it took on them. 

Now with their custom welded bike phalanxes, with their mountain-biker guards, and the two-lane-wide solar fabric stretched between them like an odd trampoline, it had become the livelihood of heroes. The New Pony Express, sans ponies. Though there was word that some of the towns down south had a couple of horse divisions as well, it was less efficient than the bicycles, since the wheels were producing energy too.

Ashley was sitting on the side of the Radio tower. Usually they weren’t allowed up there, but the lawmen always made an exception when there were energy harvesters approaching. It was basically New World fireworks. 

Don was swinging his feet beside her, restless. The meltdown had hit him worse than her. His right hand had been burned badly. He’d been close to a power source when it all went to hell. He always just grinned when someone brought up up and wiggled his left hand, saying ‘good thing it wasn’t this one!’

Most people didn’t get it. Some thought it meant he was left handed which, sure, he was now.  He used his left hand a LOT more. But he hadn’t been in the Before. Now, it was something a lot less about necessity and a lot more about Calling.

“Think they’ll be on board?” Don asked into the cricket-filled dusk as the phalanx of harvesters neared their town. 

They could hear them now, the churning grind of hundreds of bicycles, of batteries dragged on broken roads gathering more power with their motion. The restless flapping of the sail-like solar panels. “I mean, they’ve probably seen so many, like… Desperate situations.”

“Town’s not so bad off,” Ashley said, holding the clipboard to her chest. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m rooting for us Don. A lot of people are.”

“Yeah,” said Don, and drummed his left hand’s fingertips against the beam they were perched on.

The first mountain biker reached them not long after. Ashley saw him coming and clambored to her feet on the beam. Sometimes there were a lot of people waiting with their requests. This time there were only four of them. Ashley and Don, Georgette from up the road (she had a garden that had saved some lives all those years ago) and Madison the librarian. Ashley let Georgette go up to the road first. She even hung back for Madison. Her and Don… They’d wanted to ask for this a long time, but things had always seemed so dire. Now the radios were coming back online, and the hospital had enough healthy bodies to keep the generator charged. Now they were settling back into their lives with energy as a non-standard resource.

It had made things hard for her whole band, though maybe hardest for Don of all of them. He’d really been going places, back when there were places to go for a musician. Now, in this new world…

“Hey ladies,” Said the biker Liaison, pulling up to the side of the road and tugging down the bandanna that covered his face. “Pass over your requests!”

“Panel access for a greenhouse setup,” Summarized Georgette to the biker liaison as she stepped forward. The biker grinned at her, glancing over the request form.

“Energy access for an educational film for the kids,” Madison said, her smile reaching her eyes and her voice both as she passed over the board.

“Um,” Said Ashley, tugging her own facemask higher up anxiously.

“It’s okay,” said the biker. His face was filthy where his goggles and the mask hadn’t covered. There was a new beard growing in, and the wrinkles around his eyes were so friendly as he smiled that she was afraid to dampen his enthusiasm with her request. “I’ve seen it all. Don’t worry.”

He probably has, thought Ashley. She glanced back to Don on the radio tower then passed in her request.

“One night garageband performance,” She whispered, her face heating up at the nature of her request in comparison to the other women. “If there’s enough. I mean… It… There are some signatures so…”

“No judgement,” The biker said, his grin only seeming to widen. “I’m glad. A town that can think about music again is doing pretty well. I’ll deliver them, okay? Make sure to wave to the crew as they pass, they’ve had a hard week’s ride.”

“Sorry,” Muttered Ashley as the biker tore away, calves bulging as he tore back towards the slowly approaching phalanx. “I know you both have actual important things.”

“My educational film is an old Disney cartoon.” said Madison with an air of admission, clapping Ashley on the back. “I just didn’t want to say so in front of my personal hero Georgette.”

“Honestly,” Georgette snickered, turning to grin at them. Her milk-pale left eye and the surrounding scars were her mark from the great change, and she bore them with good humor. “You girls are so bashful. You know I only want the panels so I can set up an automatic sprinkler system again. It’s perfectly nice having some fresh produce growing, but I’d love to laze about some days.”

“Besides.” Said Madison. “It’s not just you.”

“He’s nervous.” Said Ashley, bouncing on her toes with her hands in her pockets. “It’s been a long time since we could… You know. Plug in.”

“You lot were good before the power burned.” Madison said. “They really were Georgette. They did one of the benefit shows for the library, remember?”

“Well, it was very energetic.” Georgette said tactfully. “I remember that much. I think it would do some of the others good. It’s been hard with only hand-crank gramophones.”

“I thought that’s what you were used to, G’ette,” Don said, finally having made his way down to join them. “You know, before all us young folks and our blu ray players.”

“Don’t tease, son, I know perfectly well Blu Ray was for film.” She scoffed. “And I never had to hand crank a gramophone Before. Not that I mind terribly much that records are popular again. Between the garden and the records it’s no wonder you lot tried to put me in charge. I basically turned into the town grandmother at the ripe old age of forty five. Treats for everyone.”

They laughed like she hadn’t saved their lives. They averted their eyes like they all hadn’t been part of trying to elect her their new mayor.

There were only about four hundred people left in their little town. They’d consolidated as much as they could. Done their best to make sure that the empty buildings wouldn’t become significant pest problems--Generally by tearing out what they could and opening them up to both pests and pest eaters alike. But the main drag of downtown was still fairly lively. Most of the folks left had moved in. No more landlords, no more rent. Just the places that hadn’t burned to the ground, and the people who were left.

It was enough that when the phalanx of harvesters arrived cheer rose up from those gathered. It was twelve bikers per panel, with four mountain biking guards for each. This group of harvesters had four panels. Supposedly, when they traveled down the bigger old highways, they road two and two. Ashley had heard that some of the bigger city areas had phalanxes of twenty panels at a time trawling the old highway roads. She’d heard it from the same place they heard most of the news--the riders themselves.

Usually every time they passed few some folks stopped to stay in town awhile and some folks in town joined up. It was a fair system. One that kept their whole corner of the world going. Ashley hadn’t been much good, but even she had taken a tour once, riding at the back right side of a phalanx. It was a community ordeal, and she believed in fairness. Still, though the riders had been encouraging she suspected they hadn’t been sorry that their huffing, puffing slowest pedal churner washed out after one rotation.

“Here we go,” whispered Don, leaning against her side as they watched the ride leader unfold a little step stool from his ride on gear and climb up it. What was left of the town gathered in, listening.

“Only got three requests this month,” The rider called. “Hope that means you’re all doing well and not that those three ladies have a chokehold on the community!”

Laughter followed, and the rider’s grin brightened. She was sweat drenched and panting, but the phalanx always stopped to make the needed announcements before moving forward.

“For the appeal of Georgette Middles, we have a half panel in our pack that tore in a storm two months ago! We can spare it if that will do for your power needs.”

“Perfect for a start!” Georgette called from Ashley’s side. Don pressed closer.

“For the appeal of Madison Allens, we generally avoid films, but since there isn’t much non-standard need we’ll be happy to provide supplementary power to one of your own bike generators for a film. Will that do?”

“Perfectly!” Called Madison, waving with a grin.

Don’s good hand squeezed Ashley’s fingers.

“For the appeal of Ashley Drausser, first, let me thank you for specifying number of instruments needed for powering, that’s helpful, and second we can spare power for a set of roughly half an hour so long as there are no lights necessary. And only if it’s open attendance. Sound good?”

Ashley's mouth went dry. Her breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She jammed her fist up into the air in a motion of triumph, and heard a ragged cheer go up through the crowd for her.

“Perfect,” Ashley choked, as Don shook her by the arm in eager, delighted motions. A laugh was tearing out of his throat as he jumped up and down in excitement. Their other bandmates were somewhere in the crowd, she knew.

She couldn’t believe it. She’d thought it was over.

But Dragged Ragged was finally going to be able to play again.

She met up with the Harvester planner after the mayor had given her part of the speech. Had made sure the riders knew where to go for food and water, both for their stay and for their trip. Had ensured that they knew where housing was, and where the bathing house was currently functioning. The old YMCA had seen better days, but they’d gotten the showers up and running and converted all the work out equipment into small scale energy harvesters off their own.

“Garage rock, huh?” said the planner, looking over Ashley’s paperwork again as they ironed out the details. “Gotten to play at all since the big dark started?”

“Only acoustic,” Ashley said. “We’re not bad, but—”

“Not what you love,” the planner nodded. “We’re only staying two nights. So tomorrow?”

“Sounds great,” Ashley said. “We don’t need much light, so please put the movie first? I know it’s for the kids, and our music is probably a little loud for them.”

“Oh I was thinking of making you play at nine am,” The planner snickered. “We’ll put you on at eight. Got a location?”

“Roof of the old movie theater? We kind of converted it into a community space a year or so back.”

“Done.” The planner said. “Better rally your troops and make sure you still remember how to tune, ma’am.”

“Ashley,” She said, her cheeks hurting under her mask from trying to smile so much. “And thank you.”

“Looking forward to it Ashley,” Said the planner, shooting her a wink. They were cute. Ashley escaped, grinning, into the slowly darkening streets. She pulled out her hand-crank flashlight, but she didn’t need it yet. She knew the streets.

She didn’t go to her new home, the second story apartment off of main street, its green paint finally fresh rather than flaking after they finally got around to some aesthetic work three years ago.

Instead she went to her old one. The one she’d lived in all through high school. The one that had been her home before the burnout. Where she had lived with her parents before they were gone. Before so many people were gone, and the power with them.

She’d had a lot of time to come to terms with it. A lot of days spent moving in and out of that old home since. She still felt wistful, approaching, but it wasn’t the raw ache of loss it had been. Especially when she saw the flashlights around the open garage and heard the murmur of voices.

“Dude,” Called Don, the first to see her. “She’s here!”

Saanvi must have set up her drums, because a drumroll started as Ashley approached. It ended with a symbol crash just before Don caught her in a tight, squeezing hug. His left hand was flat against her back, his ruined right pressed against her other shoulder blade still curled.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

Ashley returned the hug fiercely as the crickets and cicadas sang around them, joined by the frogs in the creek near her old home and the distant howls of coyotes.

“We’re gunna have to do some dusting on this gear,” Saanvi warned. “Not to mention pulling out our old outfits.”

“Ooh, I’m gunna have to figure out what to do with the other leg on my old leather pants,” Melvin sighed, gesturing down to his missing right leg. “Like, is it more metal to tie it up or to slice it off? Probably slicing, right?”

“That’s usually pretty metal,” Ashley agreed. “Slicing.”

She didn’t have to worry about changing her old garb. She remembered, vaguely, putting her look together back in the day. Draping on black and patterns in careful tatters. Draping dingy silver and bronze around her body.

She remembered the careful makeup routine. The dark lipstick. She remembered loving her lips. She spared a moment, touching a fingertip to the mask she wore over her ruined lower face. She pulled it down with a slow breath, allowing her bared teeth and the burned, curled remains of her lips to show. She was going to have to to sing. Couldn’t do that behind a mask. She straightened up and faced her band.

They smiled back. Don swung his guitar strap over his shoulder, his curled hand still just barely good enough for him to strum with his thumb. Melvin leaned back in his chair, his one leg splayed out before him and his fingers already picking out notes on his electric bass. Saanvi twirled her drumsticks, her empty eye sockets heavily shadowed in the scant light of their crack-charged flashlights.

“Alright,” Ashley said, grinning as much as her burned face would let her. “Let’s rock their worlds.”

[gloomy-goober]

Make Believe (Part 6)

@but-jesuschrist-im-never-good​ @vergeangst​ @louvrejpeg​ @here-to-vent​ @justanotherpurplebutterfly​ @holdnarrytight​ @fangirl4ever07​ @twinkly-lights​@fandomsandanythingelse @that-space-gay-writes​ @abstractedthinking​ @fandomsofrandom​ @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​

A ROMAN’S KINGDOM SPECIAL! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! Buy me a Ko-Fi?  Ao3 Link

The rain came down upon the heroes in sheets and soaked into their clothing. Their eyes could barely see through the darkness; only the brief flashes from the lightening gave them any sense of direction. The looming form of the gates glared down at them as they drew closer and increased the sense of dread that boiled in their guts.

Darling slowed to a stop in front of the gates and allowed her rider to gaze up at the old manor.

Roman had not been to Chicanery Manor since he was young, but it was evident that time had taken its toll. The rain blocked the view of the home that should be situation on the hill behind the gates; more of a castle if Creativity recalled correctly.

Vines had grown over the rusted iron gates and made them easier to slip through; evident by the gap created from missing bars. Intruders probably paid no mind to the glares of the statues that were situated on either side: two giant, stone snakes.

These very snakes are what glared down at Roman now.

Their eye sockets were empty of the amber stone that he remembered being there, but it seemed to make them more menacing. The viper on the left’s fangs had broken off in time and the serpent seemed to have an abandoned bird’s nest in it’s coiled body.

“Creepy.”

The prince did not have to turn his head to know Patton had just said those words.

“Indeed,” Roman answered. “Very creepy.”

The three of them sat there on their horses and just looked up at the ruined gate. They had no idea what they would find inside the manor. There was no way they could prepare but if it would get Anxiety back they had to push on.

“We are going to have to continue this journey on foot,” Logan stated the obvious. There was no way the horses would be able to get through the gap in the gates.

“Right,” Roman breathed the word and slipped from his horse. Darling’s white coat was matted down by the rain and her hooves covered in mud. The prince patted her affectionately to calm her nerves and glanced around the best he could in the pouring rain. “We should find a place where they can stay out of the storm.”

Logan appeared by his side, his eyesight impaired even further with the amount of water that was on his glasses. “Where would that be? There doesn’t seem to be any shelter.”

“There should be an old shed around here somewhere,” Creativity squinted through the rain, “The gardener used to keep his things out here.”

The side did not give either of them a chance on how he knew of this shed. He merely glared through the rain and started to move along the fence slowly with the expectation that the other two would follow.

“Blast this rain,” the royal muttered under his breath. The thick sheets of water had slowed only a margin as they had started to walk. As much as the creative side tried, he could not make the rain slow down any more then that even though he should have that ability.

This story was truly going off the rails if he could not control something as simple as weather.

The party of three moved along the edge of the fence through the storm in search for the shed that Roman hoped would still be standing; one good thing could happen to him.

The blistering storm continued to rage despite the handsome prince’s best spells. His faithful companions were loyally following him through it, like they should. As they led their horses towards the promised shelter the royal could only think of one thing. Why would someone take such a villain? Could this just be his master plot all alon-!

Roman walked right into the very structure he had been searching for. The unexpected structure made the prince stumble back into Darling’s chest. His nose burned from the unexpected hit and his vision was covered in stars. The only good thing that came from this blunder was Patton’s laugh before he moved to check to see if Roman was alright.

“I’m fine, Patton,” Roman waved the concerned man away, “Just did not see the structure in this rain.”

“More like you were lost in your head again,” Logan added as he moved towards the shed.

Roman resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the logical side and settled to fix his soaked jacket. He pushed his way back to the front of their party to observe the shed.

The old stone walls were sturdy, and the door had been weakened by rot. A simple push and it gave way to let them peer into the room. The only note of worry was the leak in the roof; if the horses were kept away from it they would be safe from the storm. The shed was just big enough for the two animals.

“It is safe,” the prince called back to the two as he led Darling inside. She seemed relieved to be out of the rain that had matted down her shining coat.

With Darling and Patton’s secured in the shed, the three departed out into the storm once more. The journey back to the main gate was just like their journey to the shed: slow and quiet.

None of them said a word as they followed the fence back to the pried open gate. The prince helping his companions through the opening before he got through himself. The stone’s snakes’ empty gazes seemed to pierce into their backs as they moved up the old gravel path towards the manor.

Lightning flashed right over the roof of the place as they neared the door and it seemed to mimic a Scooby-Doo cartoon. The resulting thunder just made the adventurers move faster to the covered front porch, so they would be safe from the falling water.

“It should not be possible for this much rain to come down in such a short amount of time,” Logan grumbled under his breath.

The logical side was completely drenched, and the edge of his robes were covered in mug and grass. He had given up his fruitless venture to clear his glasses of the water as his soaked clothes only smeared the water.

“Well, this isn’t exactly a normal world, Lo,” Patton pointed out.

Roman swiped his soaked hair out of his eyes and moved towards the front door. The last remaining, amber eye of the doorknocker glared down at the prince as he rested his ear on the wood. All he could hear on the other side was the distant sound of water dripping onto a stone floor.

No sign of life. Not even the scurrying feet of a rat. Just silence broken by the steady drip of water.

“I do not think anyone saw us coming,” Roman whispered, “But we should be quiet just in case. They could merely be hiding.”

Roman drew away from the door and faced his companions. Both Patton and Logan had uncertain expressions on their face. The prince stood up straighter to try and have one of them be more confident about this mission; his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Roman, what exactly are we going to face in here?” Patton asked.

“Honestly, Padre,” Roman looked back at the door and grabbed the handle, “I have no idea.”

With that he pulled the door open. It was surprisingly easy to do; no squeak of protest from the joints or the wood. The royal backed up and drew his sword in preparation for an attack, but none came.  

All that stood in front of them was a dark entrance way that lacked the warmth it might have once had.

“Alright, follow me and stay close,” Roman instructed before he slowly moved into the building.

As his foot passed through the entrance way he felt a blast of cold air hit him. The outside rain only strengthened how dreary and freezing this place was. Where torches should have been lit, there were only stubs of wood. A broken chandelier was in the middle of the floor; the jewels that had hung on it gone.

Roman’s eyes did a quick sweep of the hall before he slowly let his defensive posture relax. He was still ready to attack but it was clear this area was clear of enemies.

“Whoa,” Patton stood next to the prince and looked around in awe. His eyes darting from the high ceilings to the grand staircase. “Is this what our castle looks like?”

“No. Yes. Maybe,” Roman waved off the question, “That is not what we need to focus on, Morality. One of these doors should lead us down.”

“Down?” Logan looked away from the medallion that was laid in the middle of the stone floor to send Roman a questioning glance.

“Yes, down.” The creative side rolled his eyes, “Everyone knows the villains hide in the creepy basements and stuff.”

“In your world, maybe,” Logan grumbled. His next statement was said with the intention of being heard by everyone, “But why would we want to charge towards the enemy? We are not prepared to face an unknown threat and going downstairs seems like we would be limited on escape routes.”

“Because that is where the prisoners will be. Come on, Logic, think.” Roman started to walk towards the nearest door, “You do it all the time, start to apply it to this situation.”

“This situation is not set in reality, thus I am still adjusting.”

Roman did not grace biting comment with an answer. His mind had already moved back onto the mission at hand. It was either that or let the memories of this manor resurface and that was a road Creativity wanted to avoid.

This would be a quick in and out mission if all went well.

“Now, if I remember correctly,” he mumbled to himself and stopped in front of a door. “This one should be the door to the-.”

“Hey kiddos! I found the door with steps that go down!”

Roman’s hand froze as it was just about to touch a handle and he spun around fast.

Patton stood next to an open door with a bright grin on his face. The side seemed very pleased with himself as he bounced on his heels; the golden glow of a distant light showed the stone steps that lead downward.

“What?” Roman turned back to his own door and opened it quickly. He barely had a chance to scope out the room before he was buried under a pile of boxes.

“Roman!”

“Creativity.”

The sound of hurried footfalls drew close to the downed prince as the royal felt his face flush brightly. The pain in his side came back full force as the wooden crates turned to harmless cardboard boxes on top of him.

“At least I still have that much control” he thought to himself in annoyance.

“Oh my gosh, Roman! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he grumbled as he started to unbury himself. “I should have remembered that the doors change around in this place. Stupid trick makes this place a maze.”

“Have you been here before?” Logan inquired as he helped Roman to his feet.

“A long time ago,” The prince answered quickly. He focused his attention on brushing himself off.

“Are you sure you are okay? That was quiet the fall and after what happened yesterday,” Patton looked over Roman as if trying to find any sign of pain. “I don’t want you straining yourself.”

“Trust me, Pat, I am all good,” Roman tried his best to put a convincing, reassuring smile on his face. The last thing he needed was Patton to worry over his safety and wellbeing. “I just got turned around. We cannot let something like simple boxes holdup our rescue mission. Think of those poor people…and Anxiety too, I guess.”

Morality’s nose crinkled up to show he did not like the words that had been spoken but Roman could see he had won this battle. As much as Patton wished to make sure Roman was well, he also wanted to save Anxiety.

“Alright, but if you get hurt again I am going to make you rest.”

Roman nodded, “Deal. Come on, to your door.”

Roman pushed past the two sides and moved across the entrance way. He did not stop to make sure they were behind him as he descended the stairs. He ignored the pain in his side and put on a brave face. Now was not the time to fail.

The stone steps would have been hazardous to use had it not been for the torches that lit the way. Everyone that Roman passed lit up with a new flame; bright and shining. They cast shadows against the wall that seemed to dance to unheard music and only made the basement creepier.

The basement itself was more of a maze. Where the stairs ended had two branching stone paths that only gave away to more darkness.

“This place truly is a maze,” Logic stated. The logical side glanced down both paths to try and discern which would be correct. There was no clear clue.

“I told you,” Roman said, “and it only gets worse the farther in you go.”

“What kind of person lives in a place like this?” Patton asked.

“Well there are several options. I would say that from the name of this place it would be good to infer that the most likely suspect is-.”

“Quiet, nerd, we do not have time for your rambles,” Roman held up a hand to silence Logan. “Besides, I am pretty sure that was a rhetorical question.”

“You could have explained that to him in a nicer manner,” Patton mumbled before he put on a kind face once more, “Let us not fight, boys. If neither of you are going to choose a direction to walk in, I am going to go right.”

The moral side turned on his heel and proceeded to go left.

The two watched Patton walk for a second before Logan thought to speak up.

“Morality, that is the left path.”

Patton stopped and slowly turned back to the others. His eyes were on his hands for a second using the index finger and thumb trick to confirm what Logic had just stated.  A bashful giggle left him as he rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. “Oops. Well, guess I am left with no other option then to accept that you are right, Logan~.”

Logan groaned and started down the right path, “In second thought, maybe you should continue down that way.”

“Oh, come on, Logan,” Patton ran to catch up with the other, “You would hate if I was left behind.”

Roman shook his head and trailed behind the two. He could not suppress the smile that forced its way onto his face. Despite this basement maze being terribly cold and dreary, they seemed to create a light that no conjured torch could ever cast.

“Do stop with these puns,” Logan sighed, “We are on a serious mission and we could be heard if you continue to make them.”

“I am just trying to lighten the mood,” Patton countered with a grin, “Don’t be such a party pooper, Logan.”

“I am being no such thing. I am just concerned on being heard. I am sure Creativity agrees,” Logan looked back at the fanciful side for assistance.

Normally, Roman would have encouraged Patton to continue to annoy Logan but the logical side brought him back to the reality of the situation at hand. It was not the time to be making jokes in the winding paths of this basement.

“Sadly, I have to agree with the Tech Support here. We must be cautious,” Roman moved past the two, so he was once again at the head of their party, “As a wise Auror once said, ‘Constant Vigilance’.”

“I still think Logan is being Moody.”

“That, I will not confirm or deny, but instead counter a point that isn’t he always Sirius?” Roman said with a wink in Patton’s direction.

“Is this another joke I am not understanding?”

Roman and Patton gave each other a look and fell into muffled giggles; no answer was given to Logan on why.

Their mirth only lasted till the end of their current passage and then the cold set back into their bones. The end of the path brought them to a cross roads; three different directions that could lead them deeper into the basement.

Roman only glanced down the dark passages before he motioned for them to continue forward. With every step a torch lit next to him and broke the darkness that wanted to engulf them. Every branch in the path they faced was met with a pause and then them taking the first direction someone chose.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed in the dark basement maze. It could have been hours, days or even just minutes.

“I am not sure we are going to find anyone down here, Ro,” Patton’s voice broke the silence. He barely raised it above a whisper, but it still made the prince jump.

The tip of the sword stopped inches before Morality’s face as the prince turned around.

“I…I almost took your face off,” Roman lowered the sword slowly, “You…don’t do that. We are in a tense situation.”

“Sorry,” Patton took a step back, “But I am just saying that we seem to be walking in circles.”

“Nonsense. I know where we are.”

“We have traveled through this crossroads about nine times,” Logan stated.

“How could you possible know that?”

“I marked the corner of the brick with some ink I found in my bag. I wanted to be sure we would be able to get back to the stairwell,” Logan pointed over to a corner stone. The grey had a distinct blue-black line across it.

Roman pushed past the logical side and glared at the brick. “How do you know it is the same one?”

“I was giving each brick a different symbol until we began to move in a circle,” Logan crossed his arms, “I was going to tell you when we circled around the first time, but Patton insisted it would be better if you figured it out yourself. I guess even he got tired for the constant circling.”

Roman turned his head to look at the bashful father figure, who refused to look directly at him. “Now let’s not point fingers, boys. We just need to think of a better plan then walking around this face till we are dizzy.”

“I suggest we head back upstairs and look for a blue print. This place must have them stashed away somewhere,” Logan suggested.

“Impossible,” Roman shook his head, “This place is made to constantly change and confuse. We should be lucky your markers have no disappeared yet.”

Roman moved over to a path that had no symbol drawn on a corner stone. He let his eyes look as far as they could into the darkness before he spun around to face his companions.

“We have no other option then to wander these dreaded halls until we either run into the fiend that took the noble townspeople of the village or we find the imprisoned people themselves.”

“Roman.”

Roman put up his hand and continued on, “If you do not believe this is the path to victory then by all means you are welcome to go back up to the foyer and wait. I do not want either of you in harm’s way but-.”

“Roman.”

“Know this, I cannot ensure you will be protected on your own up there. We have lives to save and standing around here to question if exploring every possible tunnel in these ruins is not how we speed up with quest. So, are you with me or not?”

Roman looked at the two sides that were in front of him. His passionate speech should have given them moral or at least the drive to continue forward but, instead, they were looking behind him.

“What?”

A hand landed on Roman’s shoulder in answer to his question. The regal bravery that the royal had put on his face turned to a scream of pure terror as he spun around to face the foe that had snuck up behind him.

A shallow face, dark eye shadow, and a cloak of black. There was an insufferable smirk on his face as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Yeah, I guess we are with you on this,” Anxiety said coolly. “Sup Princey.”

Roman did not have a chance to process what he was seeing before a blur of grey and blue pushed past him.

“Anxiety!” Patton hugged the dark side tightly and pushed the younger’s head under his chin, “Oh I was so worried about you.”

Anxiety made a small sound of distress as he was moved quickly. Morality’s expression turned from joy to great concern as he looked over the other’s face. “Are you bruised? Hurt? Bleeding? Missing a limb?”

“Wha-, no? No, I’m fine. I’m fine, Pat, really,” Anxiety tried to push off the overly concerned man.

“Patton do not overwhelm him. This whole situation is probably distressing enough for him,” Logan said.

Roman’s sword was still raised in preparation for an attack. His eyes moving from the anxious trait to behind him. A group of people were standing in the shadows with wary looks upon their faces.

“How did you escape?” Roman looked back at Anxiety.

“Honestly, whatever took me is really bad at keeping someone locked up. I was not even caged,” Anxiety shook off Patton and stood up straight, “I found these people in another hallway. Seemed like they were camped out there.”

He motioned back to the villagers.

“Do you know who took you?” Logan asked.

Anxiety shook his head, “Nope.”

“It was a bird,” a small voice said.

“Janey, please, not this again,” a woman’s voice answered.

“It isn’t a lie. A big bird person comes an’ took us all,” A little girl pushed her way out of the crowd and moved to hold onto the back of Anxiety’s cloak. Her wide, brown eyes looked up at the other before they moved to Roman. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Roman frowned for a second and let the sword lower from its defensive position. “Well, it would add up to how your got out the second story window so easily.”

“She ain’t gonna like it if we leave. I thinks she needs us for somethin’.”

“Well whatever that something is doesn’t matter anymore, sweetie,” Patton had a gentle tone as he moved towards the girl. “We are going to get you all out of here.”

“But the bird-.”

Patton shook his head, “Who cares a big chicken? My buddy here can take them. He is a real prince after all.”

Janey looked up at Roman from where she hid behind Anxiety. “Really?”

Roman gave her a smile, “Really, princess. I will not let anything happen to you.”

The sweet moment was broken with Anxiety groaning in disgust at the display, “Yeah, great, can we get out of here now?”

“Kiddo…” Patton stood up and sent the youngest side a frown.

“What, I am just saying what we all are thinking? The sooner we are out of here the less likely this bird thing is going to find us again.”

“Anxiety is right. We should begin to follow my marks back to the stairwell,” Logan said, “Come. Follow me.”

“No, follow me,” Roman pushed ahead of the logical side just as the group moved into the center of the cross roads, “I will get us out of here without anything attacking us.”

“Hopefully it just attacks you,” Anxiety grumbled as he trailed behind the group.

Roman heard the words said by the darker trait but decided it best to ignore them for now. He had people to protect and dark tunnels to travel back through.

“You do not even know where the markers are,” Logan stated blandly.

“I am sure they will be easy to spot. We do not have time to argue over this, my logical friend.”

“And why is that?”

Roman stopped just as they got to the middle of the hall that should lead back to the stairwell.

“Because something else is coming.”

As these words left his mouth a screech echoed down the hallway. Roman barely had a chance to brace himself before something knocked him off his feet and onto the cold floor. Around him the people screamed and ducked down to avoid the wrath of this creature.

Sharp talons were inches from his face as they moved towards their real target.

“No, no, no, nonoNO!”

“Anxiety!” Patton’s voice echoed over the distressed voice of the younger side.

Roman pushed himself up to his feet with a grimace of pain.

“Logic get all these people outside!”

“But-.”

Roman turned and glared at the logical side, “Do it!”

He did not let Logic answer. His eyes were locked onto the beast that had knocked down the anxious trait.

The creature was large. It should not have fit into the tight passage under the ground. Its wings were a shade of black that almost seemed impossible. With a flip of a wing, it sent Morality back when the side tried to get to Anxiety.

Its head turned and Roman could not help but gasp in disgust. This creature seemed to humanlike yet monstrous.

“A harpy,” Roman was in awe and had to stop himself from fleeing with the others.

He squared his shoulders back and raised his sword. “Morality get out of here.”

“I am not leaving my son!”

“This is a rogue beast from mythology,” Roman moved towards the creature, “You are of no use here. Leave.”

Patton sent Roman a glare but started to move down the passage that Logan and the others had disappeared into.

“Beast, you are intruding on the grounds of a duke and have kidnapped the good people of this town. Surrender your captive and I will let you live.”

The harpy made a sound that seemed to be a mix of a laugh and a shriek.

“You do not know what you say, little prince,” it stated in a raspy voice, “You cannot defeat one blessed by the gods.”

Anxiety made a sound of pain as the creature moved to face Roman. One of its claws had dug into his side. It was hard to tell if it had just pieced the tunic or if it had broken flesh.

“Your gods have no power here,” Roman adjusted his grip on his sword, “These people have done nothing to be tortured and taken from their lives. I will give you one last chance; release Anxiety and you will be spared.”

The harpy gave her terrifying laugh again, “Oh little prince, you see the world in such black and white, that you cannot see the truth that is right under your nose. The monster is not always the thing you must be wary of.”

“Very well, you have chosen your fate.”

Roman charged towards the harpy with a battle cry. The steel of his sword just missing its feathered body. His aim was for it to release Anxiety, but the creature seemed steadfast on keeping the man in its grasp.

“Is that the best you can do, little prince?”

“I am just getting started,” Roman cracked his neck and swung again. The blade only caught the end of a feather.

Still the creature would not release its hold.

Anxiety winced as the beast shrieked and moved to smack the prince out of the way. Its giant wing knocked Creativity into the nearest wall. His grip on his sword weakened and he barely had time to raise it before the harpy came in for another attack.

The talons clashed against the blade. Roman used all his strength to keep them away from their mark. The harpy hissed and drew its foot back when the sharp end almost hit the delicate inside.

“You are blind, little prince, you do not see what I do.”

Roman blocked another swing and pushed off the wall.

“I see that you are attacking someone that is unarmed. I may not like him, but he is still a part of Thomas. I will not let you hurt and innocent.”

He ducked under the massive wing that tried to knock him back.

“It is my job to protect all,” Roman turned around and prepared a strike, “Now, release him.”

His blade hit the floor as the harpy moved back. Its foot was no longer wrapped around the from of Anxiety.

Before Roman’s very eyes it seemed to morph into a more female shape. The wings stayed but the face lost its feathers and beak. Her dark eyes looked him over with an expression that he could not identify.

“Very well, little prince,” she said calmly, “If you believe this is the right call I shall leave. This town obviously has no need for my work.”

Her talons clicked against the stones as she began to move back into the darkness.

“But know this, young one, you do not know everything that happens in this land. If you do not proceed with caution you might lose something you did not know was lost.”

With that she disappeared, and the sound of her feet could be heard no more.

Roman stood still with his sword raised in case the harpy decided to come back for another attack. His heart beat loudly in his ears and mixed with the worlds that the creature had left him with.

“What does that even mean?” He spoke the words allowed and expected no answer. Why can’t you mythical creatures speak plainly?”

At his feet, Anxiety groaned, and the prince left the question hang in the air. His footsteps were quick as he moved to the fallen form of his companion.

“There, there, fair one. The monster is no more,” Roman slid his sword back into the sheath before he glanced over the prone form of his friend to try and spot some injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“I feel like I was hit by a truck,” came the grumbled reply, “What was that?”

Roman moved to check Anxiety’s side to make sure the talon had not pierced into the anxious man’s torso. To his relief, it had only gone through the shirt.

“It was a harpy. A terrible creature that likes to take people. No one knows what happens after they taken the people, but we can only guess that they eat them,” Roman helped Anxiety sit up with a hand rested on the other’s back. “Can you stand?”

“Good, because I think we would both hate it if I had to carry you.”

Roman pushed himself to his feet completely. He held out a hand for Anxiety to take but the other refused. The prince bit back a comment of the other being ungrateful as he moved toward the path the others had disappeared down.

“This way,” he said, “Can’t have you running off again.”

“I was kidnapped.”

“Your fault for being by the window.”

Roman smirked at the angry noise that came from behind him. That was the last confirmation he needed to know that the other was fine.

[ask-joeydrewstudios]

Similarly Spiteful, Chapter 16

@disneyphantomlover: ((You know it’s bad when not even Bendy trusts the mechanic. Also, this link is important for the nameless song they play. 9w9 ))

Bendy was rather proud of himself!

Not only was Mr. Sammy Wes happier now, but the Music Director showed him how to play a song on the piano! It was a weird but fun song, and he liked flicking his tail to the beat. Sammy Wes was mumbling some lyrics under his breath, but he refused to sing them outright. It was a little frustrating, but honestly, the demon didn’t care too much. It was more fun learning how to bounce his hand along the black and white keys like the blond did, and make a recognizable melody out of it.

He’d played the song over and over until the melody was stuck in his head! Then he shoved Sammy Wes to the side and played it himself all the way through. “What’s the name of this one??”

The blond man smirked, holding a finger up to his lips to hush him.

Now that only made him all the curious-er! He stood on the bench, his tail circling and snapping around him. “Cmooooon! What’s the name? I wanna know!”

Sammy’s huge hand came down and patted Bendy’s head inbetween the horns, and it took a minute for the demon to realize that noise coming out of the man was a friendly chuckle. “It’s just a lil song that ain’t coming out for a few years. It’ll be reaaall popular in a bit, just you wait.”

WHOA. Bendy felt his eyes grow large from an influx of ink, his little jaw dropping just so. WHOOOOOAAAAAA. He was the first to hear a song?? A big ol’ popular one at that?! Oh gosh! This was fantastic!! This was amazing!! He couldn’t help rocking back and forth on his heels, grinning for all he was worth. “Thanks, Sammy Wes!!”

“Only one thing, ya lil menance.” Even though his Sammy called him a “menace” a lot, it was actually nice hearing it from Sammy Wes. He seemed genuinely teasing and playful about it. Even when he poked Bendy on his nonexistent nose. “Since it’s not coming out for a while, I ain’t telling you the name of it. That fair?”

“Well. NO.” He stopped rocking on his heels as much, pouting a little. But… He did take a second to think about it. It was his special gift from Sammy Wes. “….But I guess I can deal with that. Can I at least call it yer song?”

That made the man smile widely, and he nodded. “Sure thing, buddy.”

Bendy shot off like a bottle rocket then. He needed to share this with Boris and Alice! They’d be soooooo jealous! He got a special song from the other Sammy, and they didn’t. And he’d be the only toon taught to play on Sammy’s piano! …Okay, so it wasn’t their Sammy, but Sammy Wes was close enough! He was almost to the stairs when he saw the ink. Nothing but ink filled the entire stairwell, and the little demon grimaced. Wally was going to freak out when he saw this… And so would Mr. Connor. He needed to find someone else who could fix this… Seeing so much ink like that always made him a little anxious.

Just as he was going to go find someone, a tall man walked right by him. “Oh wonderful… Another leak…” Bendy blinked as the man set down a toolbox on the stairs’ landing and took a few steps into the ink. The ink was already up to his hips when he stopped going down the stairs and stopped to survey the burst pipe. The first thing that the Devil Darling considered was the fact that while he didn’t recognize the man, his voice was familiar. No idea from where though… “Gonna have to replace this whole coupling later.”

Oh! Wait! Now he did! This must be Murray Hill! He’d never seen the man, but he recognized his voice from when he was in the pipes! Maybe he should go hide…

“Hey. Little Demon? Mind passing me a rag out of my kit?”

…..Or he could be addressed?? That was an option he hadn’t considered. “I-…Uhhh….Okay.” He threw open the kit, finding a few rags at the top and tossing one to the mechanic. “Heads up!”

The man didn’t even turn around, but he caught it anyways! Used it to wipe some ink spatters off his face before leaning in. “Much obliged.”

Bendy sat down, watching as the mechanic picked up a few tools, wading back and forth between a few stairs as he replaced the metal that held two pipes together. He was pretty fast, and the little devil enjoyed watching him work. They stayed in silence for a few minutes, with Murray working on the pipe and Bendy humming his new song. It helped lessen his anxiety about seeing SO MUCH INK THERE, but not by much. 

Didn’t help that the demon could only handle silence for so long. “How come you ain’ freaked out by me?”

Murray was wiping his hands with the rag, attempting to sop up some of the ink before it stained his pale hands. “Eh. Seen too many Creations to be really surprised.”

“Creations?” Bendy let his head cock to the side, curiosity getting the better of him. “I thought Joey only made three of us.”

“Well… Other people have the same idea Mr. Drew did.” The man bounced his shoulders in a shrug. The pure lack of surprise in his voice made Bendy’s ink crawl. “It’s why I get called in so much. Help make cartoons like you real.”

…..That made logical sense. At least to his simple protagonist mind. But something felt wrong…. The demon couldn’t place it, but something about that man’s response felt off. Like a nasty note, or a bad model sheet. It wasn’t obviously wrong, but just enough to make him take notice. Joey told him that it took a lot of stuff like blood and ink and knowing the right rituals just to bring one of them to life. Him, Boris, and even Alice were here because of a lot of hard work and sacrificing on Joey’s part. And Murray sounded so… Uninterested. What part about living cartoons was uninteresting?

He pulled himself to his feet, taking a few steps back. “I'mma… I'mma go find Joey. Someone’s gotta tell him about this pipe.” He took off before the mechanic could respond to him. Something felt wrong and he’d feel better being near his Creator. Joey made things better. He may be a crazy, hare-brained man who liked the occult too much, but…. He was his Dad. And when uncomfortable, you go to your Dad.

It took a little longer than he liked to find Joey Drew, with ink starting to drip down his face and obscuring the vision in his left eye. But he tracked the man down and found him in Sammy’s office. He peeked through the glass, and saw Mr. Sammy Wes handing him a sealed envelope. It was soooo hard to hear through the glass, but he tried!

“-is how the boys at my Studio avoided getting drafted. ….It may not work the same here, but it’s a start. Just follow my directions, kay Drew?”

“I can do that. ….But…Would any of this apply to Henry? So he doesn’t get taken?”

“Absolutely. But you cannot- fucking look at me, Joey-you CANNOT open that until the date that’s on there. If you do, it’ll be suspcious.”

“Okay, okay…. I’ll keep this in my study. ….And Sammy Wes? …Thank you. I wouldn’t know where to begin with this… A draft? Why would they need to draft for a war?”

“….I don’t know, Drew. Cuz the military’s got its head up its ass and likes butting in unnessecarily? I couldn’ tell ya.”

Oh geeez… More stuff involving that “deployed” thing. Bendy scowled slightly, walking the short distance to the office door and knocking on it. Joey answered it, and Bendy couldn’t help but latch onto one of his legs and hang on for dear life. He didn’t notice Joey picking him up and holding him close, trying to coax something out of him. He just needed Joey right now. Nothing with that impending human stuff, or that creepy mechanic.

“Hey… What’s wrong, buddy?” That was Mr. Sammy Wes. He felt a second hand on his back, rubbing small circles on his shoulders.

Bendy couldn’t answer.

Joey deflated with a sigh, and Bendy felt a pat on the back of his head. “Cmon. I’ll take you to the office.” The demon felt his Creator start walking, through the door before stopping. “… We can do the ritual tonight, Sammy. Okay?”

“Okay.”

((THERE IS SOMETHING SO WONDERFULLY INNOCENT AND ENERGETIC ABOUT THE WAY YOU WRITE BENDY AND HIS RELATED NARRATIONS. And he got so excited over the Secret Song™ wes played, that’s so darn cute. I’ve prolly said it already but I live for cute interactions between the toons and Wes, and Bendy seeking out Joey when things got Weird, he got all quiet and just grabbed his leg and like… fuck man I Love It. Poor Babby. man just kill me now this is some Wholesome Fuckin’ Content, Too Good And Wholesome For This World.

And I am dying to know what is up with Murray. The mystery is real. I’m on the edge of my seat here xD Anyway thank you for the fic!! <3 <3))

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven| part eight | part nine | part ten | part ten and a half | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen | part eighteen | part nineteen (END)