#( tell me your life sir. i want to write. i need this lore to just satisfy my standards on writing this muse )

[retphienix]

it still annoys me that Fawkes' "You're destiny culminates here" moment is so thoroughly memed as a sign that FO3 is terribly written, when it's honestly par for the course for the story they were telling; a very simple "Good vs Evil" RPG story that needed to end with a good or evil option because it was 2008 and we were still drooling over fable 1's 2004 depiction of those decisions.

I mean hell, Fallout 3 released only a few days after Fable 2, we were waist deep in these things, it was the style at the time.

The game was ending it's straight forward story and wanted to end with a nice big boom, and sacrificing yourself is like, still common in "good ending" stories in games right here and now- having Fawkes, the most well read companion who dwells on the deeper meaning of actions- even naming themselves based on what they deemed a thematically appropriate reference- see our story as it is written- with our father's sacrifice and the immense importance of this action- and say some bullshit artsy "Destiny" line is like- so fucking expected and normal for a video game story that it's impressive it caught anyone's attention beyond school yard "Well Akchtually, they should have done it so I could keep being a wastelander 🤓" discussions.

His dialogue in that scene is just a nudge to stay on track for the big sacrifice scene that tugs on the strings of immersion /slightly/. (not even harshly). And it was probably done to avoid adding like 15 more ending slides (3 companions are immune, good and evil variants, FEV and non FEV variants etc)- the same justification done for plenty of FO3 and NV things.

It kind of isn't a matter of "Well it doesn't make sense", and it's much more of just a narrative plot pushing video game moment- it's nowhere near high literature- it's just "what it is". Similar to how you can't actually take over the strip with your interesting charisma, speech skill, and powerful ballistic fist in NV- you have to doom the world to an upcoming robot uprising because they railroaded you into that instead.

It's legitimately so bog standard that if hating FO3 wasn't a meme in and of itself then it wouldn't come up. If anything people'd have fun little conversations about which of the 3 radiation immune companions do a worst job of maintaining immersion for that story moment.

(It's RL-3. Charon is a dickass with a vague "contract" of loyalty- the vagueness leaves plenty enough room for him to say no because we don't actually know what the limits are- it's all hearsay. Fawkes is an artsy fuck who definitely thinks they are providing a meaningful end to a meaningful life. RL-3 is a robot programmed to obey us- no amount of military lingo alters that he's given an order and says "No Sir!")

it would be a fun tidbit people bring up every handful of years and go "Hey, isn't it funny how Fawkes could have done it? Ha!'' but that isn't how the fallout community handled it.

It being the style doesn't excuse bad writing, but that's the thing, it's just "neutral/popcorn narrative" writing, with some fun ideas written here and there.

Fallout 3's writing overall isn't half bad- the worst it does is "be written by a different team than Fallout 1+2" and "Be written in the exhaustively hot epicenter of good/evil video game narratives" which is like... yeah, obviously it's that.

But even within that "sin" they take the time to explain the lore as to why factions depicted in 3 are different than 1-2 (such as the BoS we witness in 3 being an offshoot that abandoned the BoS way), and they try to explore what you can do within the standardized "good/evil" formula in a /few/ quests, about as much as you'd expect for a 2008 release still trying to fit within the current fad design.

Anyways, Fawkes' moment at the "end of the game" is thoroughly memed as a sign that the game is devoid of good writing logic or reason and is just stupid railroading- and it's not even how the game operates for 99% of players because of broken steel, a DLC that extended the end of the game into an infinite sandbox (because players wanted it) and allowed you to use Fawkes, RL-3, or Charon in the "sacrifice" scene instead, since all 3 are immune to radiation.

You know, the version of the game everyone plays today, the one where instead of the ""iconic"" immersion breaking line Fawkes says this:

Yeah.

I think in reality it bothers me mostly because what is effectively a removed voice line is treated as the smoking gun- when the exact event people "demanded" be possible and continue to claim couldn't happen- literally happens.

Fawkes goes in for you.

That's how the game has worked ever since 2009.

His fucking removed voice line is still the first thing you see on his fandom wiki page, as well as being the final "noteworthy quote" instead of including his revised lines anywhere in those areas.

Cute, I guess.

Anways, Fawkes is a neat super mutant concept- I often forget like 99% of their character (since FO3 isn't companion writing focused) but revisiting it in Tale of Two Wastelands is reminding me that as a "concept" I like them a lot. I think they do a good job of presenting it when you meet them too- it's just a shame that Fallout 3 didn't do companion quests to further explore them because I like what's presented and how it's voice acted- but then they just become the gatling laser companion who screams in combat a bunch.

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

Everything You Want

If you ever needed proof that I really love Shipwrecked, here it is: I tore myself away from Hatchetfield on NPMD RELEASE DAY (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) to put down some thoughts on Greater Gatsby, episode 7. As always, spoilers below the cut.

(Before we jump into that, though, MASSIVE shout out to Curt Mega for this podcast, Nerdy Prudes, and Pulp Musicals. He's worked on almost everything that's keeping me going right now. Man of the Season. Thank you for your service, sir.)

Okay, I got to say it. Ford suggesting that Peter Lorre, an ethnically Jewish guy who had to flee Nazi Germany, isn't used to hate mail was... a choice on his part. But the running gag of celebrities taking threats as complements is genuinely one of the best gags in the series so far.

So the writer of the letters is going after adaptions. The further we get into this, the more I start to wonder if these letters are really just an old-timey viral advertising campaign. If you build up this whole, buzzy, real-world-intrigue story about beloved actors being threatened for appearing in adaptions, you know what will happen when such adaptions come out? Ticket sails will soar. People will want to be part of the narrative, to see the movie Jimmy Stewart or Wilhelmina Vanderjetski put their life on the line to make. And someone in the business threatening other people's lives just to increase profits is thematically just the sort of thing that would exist alongside Ford Phillips and his hatred of the cynical, exploitative Hollywood system.

But the problem there is, what would that have to do with F. Scott's murder? There's got to be a reason both these cases are part of the same story. Perhaps Fitzgerald somehow found out in his deep-dive into Hollywood secrets, and the letter writer killed him to keep him quiet. It's not a worthy motive, but most aren't, and the greed at the top of the ladder knows no bounds. Or maybe the letters are being sent out by someone connected to the movie but unrelated to the murderer in order to specifically market a rewritten Greater Gatsby and further capitalize on Fitzy's death--make it seem like he died for the art. But then again, the public doesn't know he was even murdered in the first place...

Or maybe I'm flat-out wrong about the whole marketing angle. Really, the most obvious answer is that Greater Gatsby was basically an adaption, and the writer of the letters genuinely hates such movies. They threatened Fitzy, then simply followed through. But that falls apart if you look a little deeper. Beyond "hatred of adaptions" being the silliest reason to kill someone, such events would imply a pattern of the writer murdering a victim before moving onto the next and that hasn't held up. So maybe F. Scott was being threatened to stop work on his film by someone who had a secret to protect. The situation spun out of control, our threatener killed Fitzgerald, and is now writing all of those threats as a distraction. That way, if the threats he/she ever sent to Fitzgerald were found, investigators wouldn't see through to the real motive behind them.

Meanwhile, all of the celebrity cameos were very fun and silly, but didn't tell us much other than give the slightest glimpse into why Ford hates Jimmy Stewart so much (still perfect character lore). We got another mention of Eugene from the Punchwhistle twins, definitely making him feel less like flavor and more like set-up. And do we think Rex's perfect recall is going to come back, or was just a device for this one scene? In Ford's personal orbit, it sounds like Bixby's quest to fix his financial issues has gotten him into real trouble. There's clearly something clandestine about the group he's renting the backroom out to, and their potential relevance to Mo, one of the few people to see Fitzy's body, is another point in favor of that group connecting back to our murdered author. I still think they're working on remaking Greater Gatsby in secret.

Speaking of secrets, we don't know where Barnaby was the night of Fitzgerald's murder, or why he's lying about it. He could be the murderer, he could have also been having an affair as well... I gotta tell you guys, Barnaby might be one of my favorites but I wouldn't trust him with a moldy piece of bread. The way he stabbed Ford in the back and then instantly came to him for help because someone else was untrustworthy? What a guy. (He's right about the cops, though. Don't trust the fuzz.)

Regardless, it looks like Fig and Ford are setting their sights on Darby. I doubt she's the one behind the letters but I'm hoping we'll start to get answers about her "book club" and whatever the hell Bixby's gotten himself into...

[blazes-books]

Character Interview: Lust, Pride, Sloth, and Crowley

Narrator: Greetings, viewers! Welcome to a new “series” done by the author(Hi ;3) as a way of getting back into writing. This will be done via a style of questions being posed to the group - randomly chosen, at that, and answered by the characters as if they were being interviewed on tv! This may include lore spoilers, jokes, crack, and dark topics depending on said characters.

Narrator: Today, we are dealing with three of the Lowborn Seven, and one…Crowley?

Crowley: Don’t need to say it like that - just here to keep the Boss happy.

Narrator: If you say so! Let’s get right into the questions, then.

Question One: Parental Bonds Category. “Did their displeasure influence your decision? Did you decide to go ahead in order to show them up? Or did you change your mind because they disliked your choice?”

Pride: Our father obviously approves of my role and choices in like. I’m clever enough to make the right choices, and not falter - for anyone, at that. If someone is displeased with how I do things, that’s their problem to deal with.

Lust: Oh, no. I make my choices based on what I want, mostly. I’m sure our Dad would have…some things to say about my work - but, really, he’s in no position to judge if you ask me. Who leaves their kingdom and kids to go on a one hundred year vacation?

Sloth: …We have a dad?

Crowley: Do I look like I’d give a shite? Even if I did have parents, I live my life for myself and my wants alone.

Question Two: Childhood and Education Category. “How far did you advance in your education?”

Pride: Obviously I went to college. Top of my class, advance courses - every challenge I could undertake, I did and I did so flawlessly. If I didn’t, I simply stopped and focused my energy elsewhere. I won’t bother with failing endeavors, after all - that’s fools work.

Lust: Oh, no no. See, I do my research and studies myself. Nothing better than hands on learning. It might not be the most suggested of paths, but, I find myself more understanding and better at learning that way.

Sloth: Oh, I attend online college. Pride said it would be a good idea, and Wrath helps me with physical education. My grades are a bit rough though, my…memory isn’t the best. Or my sleep schedule, for that matter.

Crowley: No comment.

Narrator: Crowley, sir, this is so people can learn more about your character - who you are! You have to answer.

Crowley: I did. My answer is no comment.

Narrator: *Sighs* Moving on, then…

Question Three: Personal Opinions Category. “What is your idea of a really fun time?”

Pride: Oh, oh! I love a good business meeting. Learning about new products, criticizing others ideas, and coming up with new ways to implement new products. Really, I can’t picture a better way to spend my time. Though, I…do enjoy seeing my siblings. Even if we’re all rather busy most of the time.

Lust: *Glances around* Ah…I don’t know if this is…censor friendly?

Narrator: Don’t worry dear, there’s no judgement here.

Lust: Well, I…I quite enjoy…romance novels. T-They have to have a happy ending though! And no cheating, I hate cheating so much!! Just, curled up in a soft blanket, some chocolate covered popcorn and hazelnuts, it’s the perfect way to spend my down time. True crime is rather nice, too, but only on rainy days.

Narrator: Well…that wasn’t so bad—

Lust: Although a good orgy can be equaling relaxing for me —

Sloth: My turn! I, I really like going to the carnival, or fairs. The food there is the best - don’t tell Geegee I said that - and sometimes, I can even win prizes. I give the really big ones to Lust though, I know she likes plushies more.

Crowley: *Loud sigh* I can’t skip this one too, can I?

Narrator: Please don’t.

Crowley: Fine. Gardening, I like gardening. It’s…helpful, to me. Keeps my mood up and my temper even.

Question Four: Childhood and Education Category. “What was your course of study?”

Pride: Economics of course, for my major. My minor was philosophy.

Lust: Oh, well, I didn’t really - I don’t really have a course of study, but, I guess I’d count as…sociology, perhaps?

Sloth: I’m actually working on mine now. I don’t know what I officially want to do, though.

Crowley: Ass kicking, next question.

Question Five: Fears, Challenges, and Obstacles Category. “How will your life change if you do get this thing or solve this problem?”

Pride: What problem have I not already solved or can solve? I have everything handled, at all times, and I most certainly do not need help. Move on, thank you.

Lust: If…if I solve my problem? *She takes a moment to think about this visibly* I…I would hope I’d be happier. Finally being able to decide who I am, to know who I am and have my family accept every part of me…I know it wouldn’t solve everything, but, I think it would be a great start.

Sloth: By the fires of hell, please let me sleep. I’m literally supposed to be the embodiment of like, extra unneeded sleep, and I have insomnia. I just want some sleep, on a regular basis.

Crowley: Which one? *Deep sigh* Either one, I think, would be nice to have off my list. I’d love for Lady Lust to be happier, to know she’s ok and just…never have to see her fall so far again. I…I also want my boyfriend to know the truth about me, and for us to be able to be together without hiding it. I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon, though.

Question Six: Parental Bonds Category. “Are your parents still living?”

Pride: Yes, our father is very much alive and well, thank you for asking.

Lust: Dad is still kicking, last I heard. Surprised, honestly, you’d think the hunters would’ve gotten to him by now.

Sloth: Again, we have a Dad?!

Crowley: Can’t be, considering I don’t have ‘em. If they were, they’re lyin’.

Question Seven: Occupation Category. “Would you rather be doing something else? If so, what would it be?”

Pride: Oh, no! Not at all, I rather enjoy my work. It’s pleasing, it’s easy, and it’s quite literally what I was born to do. Why would I ever question it?

Lust: I…no, not really. I know I’ve been questioning myself recently, and I think I’d enjoy branching out, but I do enjoy my work and love what I do. Every part of it.

Sloth: Kind of? I’m mostly just upset how it makes me need to sleep, to be the Sin of Sloth, but because I’m a demon, my body doesn’t want the sleep. It sucks, but I…can’t tell anyone that. I know how Pride feels about it, I’ve seen how she reacts to Lust. As for what I’d choose…I, I think I’d like making dolls.

Crowley: No. I’m good at my job, I’m suited for my job, and I like my job. And if you ever tell Lust I said that last bit - I’ll tell ‘er you’re lyin’.

Question Eight: Current Household And Relationships Category. “How do you feel about the place where you are now? Is there something you are particularly attached to, or particularly repelled by, in this place?”

Pride: I feel rather good about where I’m currently living. It’s a lovely place, everything there suits myself and my tastes, and I’ve kept it perfect. I’m rather attached to my balcony, honestly. I enjoy taking a glass of bubbly out there, watching the city in the nighttime. Like stars, gleaming on earth. None of them shine like me, it’s a wonderful reminder.

Lust: …I’m looking to move out, soon. Quickly. Crowley even helped me pack my things back when I was…unable to. Everything expect my bedroom. The sheets, pillows, and blankets specifically. I’m going to be burning those.

Sloth: Oh, my dorm? It’s…ok. I haven’t put much up, honestly. Seems like too much work. I like my plushie pile, though. Sometimes I sleep better there than my actual bed!

Crowley: Eh, it’s a home. Got my plants, my bed, my things. I guess I’m rather attached to my wardrobe but, that’s just because I value my style. Oh, and give this to the Boss won’t ya? *Proceeds to hand over a lighter* I heard she’ll need it.

End of Interview!

Narrator: Well, that wraps things up here! Thank you four for participating, and who knows? Maybe we’ll see you back for a second interview.

This has been a character interview with Lust, Pride, Sloth, and Crowley!

[musekicker]

Basically I wanted a reason to write Ella during a fight and explore one of Ella's past jobs.

Buster Moon was heading back to the theater one night. Tonight was one of those nights where it was hard to turn off from work. Maybe because it was so closely linked to his passion in life. He had at least realized he needed a break and tried to spend some time at the local coffee place without his laptop to make himself take a break. 

It hadn't lasted long, the coffee place closing soon after he had gotten there. Maybe a sign he should keep writing he thought.

That was when he saw Ella. 

Ella was clearly out for a fun time, given how she was dressed. Tonight Ella was wearing a pair of purple, lens less glasses in the shape of stars. She had on a denim jacket. On the back there were rainbow colored safety pins pinned in the jacket, in the shape of a heart. Instead of overalls she was wearing black pants. There were more of those colorful safety pins on the legs of the pants in rows.

The only clothes that Buster had seen Ella in before were her boots with the yellow laces.

Dressed like this and in the line for a club, Buster could guess Ella's night plans. Ella had not seen him yet. So Buster called out.

"Ella? What are you doing here?" Buster asked.

Ella looked in the direction of Buster's voice and grinned at the sight of him.

"Oh hey there! I'm just going to hang out here tonight. I like to show up on indie band night when I get the chance." Ella said.

"I didn't know you had a interest in indie music." Buster said.

Ella shrugged.

"Not as much as I'm into puppetry of course. But once in awhile I like to hear what the local bands around here come up with." Ella said. "What about you? What brings you out here?"

Buster sighed.

"Well, I was trying to see if I could make myself take a break from script work by hanging out at the coffee place for a bit. But since it's closing hours for them, just heading back to the theater, do some more writing." Buster said.

"You need a break? Why don't you come in with me?" Ella asked. 

"I don't know if they'll just let me in..." Buster said, glancing over towards the bouncer at the door.

Ella laughed and took Buster by the arm, steering him towards the line.

"You're with me. Trust me, you'll get in." Ella said.

Buster had not had plans for the night before. Now it seemed he did.

Ella was right. The Doberman club front door bouncer just took one look at Ella and smiled.

"Ella! Here for indie band night?" asked the bouncer.

"As always. Oh, this is Buster. He's with me." Ella said.

The doberman looked down at Buster. Instead of questions or some sort of denial of entrance (which, if Buster really wanted to get in somewhere, from previous incidents he was not above sneaking into a place.) he only nodded and moved aside to let both of the koalas in.

The club was a busy place. So many animals and the sound of the band currently on stage talking up the crowd before starting in on a new song were strong sensations. Buster had expected more rave music and neon lights for some reason.

"Drink?" Ella asked, gesturing with her head towards the bar.

"Hmm.. okay, but only one." Buster said.

Ella nodded.

"Yeah. I only get one alcoholic drink myself. I'm small, and as tough as I am when it comes to alcohol well... I'm a lightweight." Ella admitted.

"I am the same." Buster said. "There are stories I could tell... but I don't think I will."

Ella smirked.

"Ah, lore I have not unlocked yet. Understood." Ella said.

The pig at the bar also knew Ella on sight. 

"Ella! How are you?" the pig asked.

"Doing pretty good I would say. I would like you to meet my friend, Buster." Ella said.

"Nice to meet you." Buster said with a nod.

The pig nodded back, already reaching for a bottle of some alcohol.

"Good to meet you too sir. Oh, of course I know your order Ella. What would you like Buster?" the pig asked.

Buster took a bit to choose what he wanted, deciding on something sweet. Ella seemed to have the same taste, though her drink was a bright pink via methods only the bar tender knew. 

"Thank Everett." Ella said to the bar tender, slipping the money on the counter to pay for the drinks.

"No problem. Have a good night."

With the drinks served, Ella and Buster were left with the task of finding open seats. Once that, conversation began.

"Everyone here seems fond of you." Buster said. "Here often?"

"Not as often as one would think." Ella said. "It's more like they like me because I use to work here."

This did not seem at all out of the realm of possibility for Ella. She had talked about how before she tried out for the theater scene, that she was building up savings to fall back on in case things didn't work out quick enough.

"Oh, were you a bar tender or-" Buster asked.

"Nope. I was a bouncer." Ella said.

Buster didn't know why he kept getting surprised by all the varied elements of Ella's life that she would talk about as if these things were exactly normal. He really should have gotten use to this by now. So the surprise on his face was only momentary. He knew what to say in response after that.

"You know what.. I can see that for you." Buster said.

Ella grinned and then looked into the distance, a wistful smile on her face.

"I've made animal's many times bigger then me cry." Ella said.

"I can see that for you too." Buster said.

Ella finally snapped out of her moment of being lost in her memories and took a sip of her drink.

They continued to talk, both trying to avoid talking about work. Though occasionally it would slip in. Neither of them could help it. It would had gone like this for most of the night, talking about other things then work and then work things if not for the tiger.

He wasn't at their table. In fact, he was closer to the wall end of the club. But Ella's trouble senses were up, and she was staring now in that direction.

"Ella?" Buster asked, concerned.

Yes, there was trouble. It made sense that Ella had a good sense of when trouble was happening given how much trouble she could make herself. Buster looked at what Ella was staring at and saw it.

It was a tiger. Now the tiger itself was not so much the issue as was the fact he was clearly hitting on two rabbits that were not at all into it. Ella had seen those moves so often from her time as a bouncer. And it made her as mad now as it did then.

 The tiger was being more then rude. Now he was being downright mean to the two rabbits who were clearly upset by the tigers antics. In fact, they seemed a little scared.

Buster and Ella could not hear what was being said, but when the tiger loomed in close to one of the rabbits, fangs bared, Ella stood up. Her glass nearly fell over from the force of her sudden standing.

"Oh. Okay. Not letting that slide." Ella said.

Ella placed her glass onto the counter and before Buster could try to stop her started to storm over towards the tiger.

Buster knew that tone from Ella. It was her someone's going to get hurt one. And it wasn't going to be her who was going to get hurt.

"Ella, Ella wait!" Buster cried.

Ella did not wait. She only stormed straight up towards the tiger. Buster could do nothing but follow her.

"Hey, stripes." Ella cried once she was behind the tiger.

The tiger was either ignoring or did not hear Ella. Buster wasn't sure which was the case. Ella did not give up at that.

"Hey!" she snapped, louder and with a tone of authority Buster had never heard from Elle. "I'm talking to you."

The tiger finally he looked down.

"What the hell do you want?" the tiger snapped, not looking at all impressed with what he saw.

"What I want is for you to leave those two alone. Clearly they aren't that into you." Ella said.

"Seriously? You are trying to tell me what to do?" the tiger huffed.

Ella sighed. The two rabbits the tiger had been disturbing looked unsure about what was unfolding. Ella looked their way.

"Don't worry you two. I got this. Why don't you go to the bar and get yourself some drinks? Tell Everett that Ella sent you." Ella said.

The two rabbits took this chance to leave the table, giving Ella a grateful glance. And when the tiger made a move to follow, Ella stepped in front of him, her expression hard

"I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not about to have my night ruined by some little freak like you." the tiger snarled.

"I have a feeling you ruin your own night often the moment you open your mouth." Ella said.

Out of the corner of his eye Buster saw the current bouncer employed by the club heading their way. They knew a fight was so close to breaking out.

Ella held up a hand in the direction of the bouncer.

Clearly the bouncer knew Ella. And knew what was about to unfold. They stopped, staying a good distance away and still watching.

"I've kicked out better then you." Ella told the tiger.

The tiger snarled at this small koala that dared to speak to him in such a way. The looming he had done over the rabbits earlier was repeated, this time over Ella. Ella did not even flinch.

Buster knew this was going to be trouble. Not for them but for the tiger.

"Sir, please. I don't think you want to push her anymore then you've already have-" Buster said.

Buster's attempts to save the tiger from Ella were not appreciated by the tiger. In fact he snarled and stepped forward, hand pulled back to slap Buster. That was the thing that made Ella's patience snap. She lunged at the tiger.

The tiger was too surprised by the sudden movement to react in time to stop what was unfolding. Climbing up the tiger's leg was a easy feat for a koala. She was soon up on the tiger's shoulder and she bit the tiger's ear. 

A cry of pain from the tiger. He reached towards Ella to try and swat her off. That turned out to be a mistake on the tigers part. Ella instantly clamped onto the wrist and bit one of the tiger's fingers.

Buster on his end of things just could only watch. He wasn't the only one watching. Other animals in the club were fixated on the fight, some filming it with their phones. There were even some animals chanting "fight! fight!" as if this was some school yard fight.

Ella got a few more bites in before jumping off the of the tiger. She landed just right on the end of one of the nearby tables as the tiger tried to reach for her. The table tipped over. Just right to hit the tiger square in the chin.

The tiger stumbled back, holding his chin. Ella took this chance to grab a alcohol bottle off someone's abandoned table and smash it. Ella was standing there, breathing deep from and holding the broken bottle, sharp end pointed in the tigers direction. A warning that she would use it.

The tiger was rethinking everything now. Blood from the bite wound on his ear was starting to ooze down his face. Ella wasn't even wounded. And from the look in her eyes she was no where near done.

Finally, the tiger backed away, hands up in surrender. Some of the club goers were cheering now. And the bouncer that Ella had stopped from getting involved in the fight earlier was now leading the tiger out of the club.

"We should go." Ella said, breath slowly returning to a calmer tempo and throwing away the broken glass.

"To avoid getting in trouble?" Buster asked.

Ella laughed.

"Nah. More like a lot of people are most likely going to offer to buy drinks after that and as we've established, we're light weights." Ella said.

With that knowledge, Buster and Ella left the club. 

"Heard you had some fun in there." the doberman bouncer said.

Ella just grinned and fist bumped with him.

As Ella and Buster walked away from the club, Buster spoke up.

"So um.. remind me to not piss you off ever." Buster said.

Ella's only answer to that was a laugh.

[devilfic]

It's me, cain! Since your last fic (as of the moment i'm writing this) is about stranger things (which is somehow "inspired" by the ask i sent and it makes me feel like i requested it), then i want to officially request something different. I still have ideas for stranger things, but for now... may i request a continuation of boogeyman???

❝boogeyman❞

II. no god in gotham.

parts: previously. plot: your shadow has a task for you. it's best you accept it. pairing: edward nashton x gn!reader. cw: detective!reader, dark, religious themes, use of handguns, murder, slight dumbification, conversations between law enforcement that should reasonably have them put in prison, non-graphic allusions to child abuse. words: 3.9k.

a/n: of course!! we get some further lore for the reader and a new hairstyle for edward.

When you were just starting out, the GCPD had put a gun in your hands and asked you to just hit your target. It was a fact of life in Gotham that most citizens had at least held a gun by fifteen, if not shot one, but you were a special case. You’d held a gun before. Held a gun and threatened to shoot, even, but you’d never pulled the trigger. Your fellow recruits called you “soft”. Soft was a word you could shake off anywhere else but here.

You spent hours training, impatient, wondering what you were doing wrong. That’s when you first met the man who’d change your life for the worse, “You ever killed somebody?”

Anywhere else, one might’ve balked. Another fact of life in Gotham was that if you lived long enough, you’d have some blood on your hands, “No, sir.”

Instead of calling you soft, he smiled—Lieutenant Dwyer, his nameplate boasted—and pointed at the poor target you’d been abusing all night. Then, without mincing words, patted your shoulder and asked you, “But you’ve wanted to, right?” Someone in your position couldn’t say “yes” and get away with that, could they? It had to be a test. Dwyer didn’t mind your silence, “It’s a bit easier to aim if you have someone in mind.”

“Isn’t that... dangerous?” You’d skirted around the word “immoral”, “In the field, I mean. If you’re thinking about a specific person. You could end up profiling.”

“Of course. In the field. But you just need to pass this test, right? Then you’re in? So do what you have to to get in.”

Why he cared that you pass when there were far better recruits he didn’t need to waste breath on was beyond you back then. Why he congratulated you, personally, when you did pass, you had no clue. Why he had taken you under his wing and ruined your life... you found out eventually, at least.

"I think you should take me off this case, Chief."

In all your years of knowing Chief Bock, of two things were you certain: one, you didn't make demands of the man. And two, you didn't question his authority. You'd effectively done both in the time it took for you to walk from the front door to his desk. It's only because it's you that he humors you, wiping his lip of coffee and giving you the floor, "You got a life-threatening disease I should know about, detective?"

Someone is going to die, "It's just getting a little crowded." Bock's face tells you that was the wrong thing to say.

You felt like a child. Bock, your "parent", insisting you were the very best on the force. Gordon, his "parent", indignant that the Bat could be trusted beyond the system. Both with their hands on yours and Batman's shoulders, shoving you two into the spotlight and saying "Look! Look how much better this one can be."

It always ended up with you and Batman in the middle. Your only solace was that he seemed to hate it as much as you did. "Did Gordon bully you into this? Huh? Five years ago and you'd have been singing a different tune."

Five years ago, you were still honest. "No, sir. But it's obvious what you're doing. Batman solves one too many crimes and suddenly people are questioning the GCPD's competence," Bock snarls at that, "so you put me on the scene. All it's doing is taking away from the work."

"I put you there because you're smart."

"With all due respect, sir, you put me there because you can't take him out. Because no one wants him out."

And it was true. With every public takedown of another crazed villain, Batman shot higher and higher up the popularity polls. Questions had steered from "Is the Batman a threat?" to "Who's the Batman's next threat?". He was a celebrity, and while there were still plenty who opposed him, the tides were changing.

To remove Batman from a case was like dooming it to fail.

Bock stews in his anger, clearly caught in a trap. It helped that you were one of the few who had yet to pick a side between the Bat's fans and adversaries. At the very least, you could see the situation for what it was. "Do you not want this?" Bock demands, finally.

"Of course I want this."

"But you wanna leave it to the vigilante and run off with your tail between your legs?"

It would be easier for you to agree with that. Let him think you a coward and save yourself the stress. "I just... I want to know why I'm still here. Why you believe that I have something to offer that the Batman doesn’t. And don’t say a badge."

Bock grinds his teeth behind his pursed mouth. You’d like to think it was because that’s exactly what he was going to say. He takes his time coming up with something else, "I trusted Lieutenant Dwyer. I trusted Detective Kenzie. I trusted every goddamn man I put on this force. And then I wake up one morning and... Dwyer's dangling over the harbor and I find out he's been putting bullets in skulls for hush money. And you," Chief Bock's scornful finger points your way, "standing there on that same harbor. You two used to be attached at the hip. Couldn't figure out for the life of me why you weren't hanging right there with him."

You both had that in common. It probably kept you up at night more than it did him.

He continues, "But then I thought about it, about all of it. If you were someone I couldn't trust, that psycho would've made sure of it. And yet you're here. Truth is, you've always been a good kid. I'd rather you on this case more than anybody else. I don't say that lightly."

It twists your gut, his earnest eyes. You can't look at him when you know the truth. "...Thank you, sir. I'll... think about it."

When it was time to pull the trigger in the field for the first time, your bullet had missed. It went flying off somewhere into the smog, flung too high too quickly to hit much more than a passing bird. Briefly, you’d wished that they’d get away.

Another bullet flew through the air shortly after yours and the suspect fell to the ground, dead. Your partner had taken the shot that time. They hadn’t held it against you.

“Did you do what I told you to?” Dwyer sipped absently at his coffee, not bothering to look you in your pitiful eyes. 

“I... I couldn’t.”

“Hm. You may not be so lucky next time.”

The Batman is a big man. It’s probably all the Kevlar and armor and the pointy ears of his cowl that make him seem enormous, or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself as you stand by his side. The corridors are too small for him, cops weaseling past the two of you even as you press your heels against the wall. The Batman isn’t as accommodating, simply watching them struggle by.

With Bock and Gordon in a screaming match behind the chief’s office door, you supposed he had nothing better to do than strike up a conversation, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You don’t scare me,” you probably aren’t helping your case with the wounded rabbit look on your face, “where’s this coming from?”

Batman clears his throat, keeping his face turned forward. He almost looks... embarrassed. “The other night. When I drove you home.” Your confusion only grows. “I don’t want you to think I was trying to intimidate you off the case.”

Your first instinct is to laugh. Then, you roll your eyes. You could hazard a guess as to who put that thought in his mind, “Did Bock say that to you?”

“He insinuated it.”

“I was thinking about leaving, but not because of that.” Batman stares down at you, asking with his eyes. “I just figured you’d have the case covered. Seeing as you’ve got experience with... him and all.”

Referring to him as him and not your shadow, the ever present demon jerking you around by the strings, felt just as wrong as saying his real name. “We don’t know if it’s him yet.”

“But it probably is, right?”

It wasn’t like he was dead. It wasn’t like the GCPD didn’t still have a warrant out for his arrest. He was very much still a wanted man.

When the floods had broken out that night, no one could be blamed for thinking of themselves. Those who were lucky enough to live above sea level sheltered in place, wondering when help would come and if they’d be locked in for days without food or electricity. Those who weren’t had their bodies flushed out with the draining of the city. Worries went to jobs, possessions, families and friends. Why would anyone be thinking about Arkham’s finest breaking out in the chaos? Those worries didn’t come until after.

Some hoped they all drowned in their escape. Others hoped they’d leave Gotham and never come back. Others, like you, knew they lied in wait. The floods weren’t bad for everybody.

The Batman had sworn to find them before they could cause any more harm, but then the Riddler had showed up in the dark of your bedroom and the rest was history.

“When I talked to him in Arkham, Edward was... smart. Meticulous. All his plans were like he’d laid out the chessboard and the pieces moved themselves. I was one of them,” The Batman gets this far off look in his eyes, shame mixed in the pits of blue, “everything down to the T had his signature. The councilman’s murder is familiar, but not exact. Something’s wrong with it.”

Your breath is stilted, uneven. You’d had your doubts that he knew who was hiding in your shadow, but asking him would give it weight. You had to be careful, “Because there was no riddle?”

“A man that proud of his work and he doesn’t sign off on it? Something’s changed.”

A lump begins to form in your throat. Gordon and Bock are still tearing into each other mere feet away. You feared your heart beat loud enough for them to hear it. 

You don’t mean for your eyes to wander off but the Batman doesn’t seem to mind. He takes to surveying the area again, always on the lookout. You wonder through your mounting anxiety if anything ever truly flies under his radar. It only solidified to you how little you could compare. How close you were to being caught.

It’s a miracle when Gordon throws open the door, panting, and ushers the two of you inside.

Bock is at his desk having shifted from glaring down Gordon to glaring down your caped companion. The Batman, again, doesn’t seem to mind. You wonder what all that screaming could’ve accomplished when Gordon speaks up from the other side of you, “We’ve been getting letters taking credit for the murder.”

The chief drags a sack onto his desk and out spills about a hundred different envelopes, all different sizes and colors, all different addressees. One clearly says “To the Batman”, another “To the GCPD”, and another “To GOTHAM”. Most of them are for the Bat, but all of them are a clear imitation of one another. Their inspiration was not far off in distant memory.

You watch as the Batman takes one addressed to him and peels the flap up to retrieve the card inside. It’s a cheap greeting card. Just like- “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” he thumbs it open, revealing an unruly script inside, barely legible even as the three of you gather ‘round to read it, “the Lord punishes and the Lord rewards. Who’s side are you on?”

Your stomach is doing flips. Bock looks annoyed, clearly frustrated with the turn of events. Gordon looks unsettled. The Batman... his mind is working. “You religious, Bat?” The chief mocks. “I’m starting to think there is no God in Gotham.”

There’s still a church to pray to him.

It’s changed a bit since the bombing. You remembered seeing the Batman blown across the room with the detonation of the bomb, wondering if that would be the end of him. How hadn’t it killed him? How hadn’t it unmasked him, cracking his cowl (and skull) in two? He was lucky. More lucky than the man whose brains were splattered all over his suit. 

There were metal detectors out front now. Ugly, modern things that clashed against the cathedral’s ornate bones. They were ugly but necessary. You’d read the impassioned editorials on this godless city, your city, and how it was all the citizens’ faults for not believing in a higher power. For trusting in a false god to cleanse the city of its evil.

His black head turns toward you as you approach his pew.

Riddler rarely went out these days. When he did, he was skulking along the worst parts of the city where people would sooner run in the other direction than call the cops. His friends in the underground kept him safe enough, but when he needed to be in public, he took to changing his face. He wasn’t very proficient with a makeup brush and concealer, but it changed enough of him that no one really looked long.

It had startled you the first time you saw him like that. It made you finally call him by his name, “Why here?”

He had your apartment. Free reign of it, in fact. He had the dark alleyways. He even had the Penguin’s new and improved Iceberg Lounge if needed (as thanks for putting him on top of Gotham and Falcone beneath it). Why the church he sung in as a little boy? The church he killed a man in under the eyes of heaven?

“I thought a change of scenery would be nice,” he smiles, broad and unsettling as always, “and I wanted to see if they’d let me in. Please. Sit.”

His hair had grown significantly since the floods. With it dyed black now, he really did look like an entirely different person. Without the coke-bottle lenses taking up half his face, you really got to see more of him. New parts of him. 

You take the seat he allots you at the very end of the pew and he immediately scoots closer until you’re sandwiched between his thigh and the arm rest. His proximity at home- in your home was nothing new, but in public? Where a stray priest might see? You squirm, focusing now on the papers folded in his hands. “What are those?”

Riddler... no, Edward, turns his face toward you with a closed-lipped grin and hands you the papers.

Most of them are old prints of the front page news. The dates range from the 80′s to the 90′s, some bleeding into the new millennium. The only thing any of them had in common was the same white, wrinkly face printed black and white on every page. You had to live under a rock not to know who this guy was. “Scott Winthrop?”

Edward crosses an arm over you to highlight a headline you’d skimmed over, “Gotham old money. Older than the city, practically. They came over from down south.”

“What about him?”

Your eyes meet Edward’s in the breath’s distance between you both. “He’s got a dirty history, detective. Generations worth. You know how I know him?” Your head twists to make sure no one might be sneaking up on you, “He used to come here every Sunday. In this very pew. He visited the orphanage too. Donated a couple blankets one winter. We all fought over them.”

“So what’d he do to you?”

“Nothing to me. I wasn’t his... type.”

Your head spins the moment you get it. You’d seen this man on TV. He’d donated to charities for years. He owned a portion of the city. He owned the block you live on. “What... did nobody try to stop him?”

“He donated shoes, too.” Your revulsion is harder to hide up close, as is the furrow in the middle of his forehead, “Of course we did. We were kids. But he paid very good money, detective. He only stopped coming ‘cause his wife caught him. Well... that, and I burned the place to the ground.”

“And you want...” Your breath shudders. The guy was too rich of a target, wasn’t he? He had to be hiding behind layers of security to rival Arkham. Bruce Wayne had been one in a million. There was no way he’d get that chance again. “How?”

Edward’s shoulder pushes into you as he shifts, hand reaching into his back pocket for something. A phone. It was his burner gifted to him by the Penguin himself. He flips it open and shows you a text on the screen.

Saturday. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

- O

No doubt “O” was Oswald Cobblepot. “What’s Saturday?”

“A celebration,” a sparkle lights up in Edward’s eyes; you’d think he was a boy in the candy store, “the old man’s turning the big seven-zero. And I have an invitation to the party.”

“How in the hell-”

“People will pay anything to not think for themselves. My sponsor is very generous.”

“So you want to do it at the party? Even with an invitation, you’re not getting close to the guy. Let alone close enough to... dress him up. I know you hate the guy and I don’t blame you but you’re crazy if you think that we can-”

Your teeth clash together with the force of his hand gripping your jaw. His big, spindly fingers hold your cheeks close together, bruising the soft flesh of your face until you’re only inches away from his face. There’s a hard look in his eyes. You tuck your chin as close to your chest as he’ll let you, hoping not to alert the scattered devotees throughout the room. “I’m not stupid, detective. Let’s stop pretending like you’re the one who thinks for the two of us, hm?”

Naturally, you nod. His fingers cup your jaw instead of clenching it now. Once upon a time, you would have never let someone put their hands on you like this. “You just need to trust me. I promised to keep your secret. So trust me.”

You could’ve laughed if you weren’t certain it would end badly, “Do you trust me?”

Edward laughs for you, practically cackling and drawing the attention of those nearby. His hand drops as soon as their eyes turn your way. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You could strangle him. “Oh, and don’t worry about how you’ll get in. If your precious GCPD is as diligent as you say they are, they’ll make room for you at the party.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve already sent word ahead. You’ll find out soon enough.” The furrow in Edward’s brow smooths over then, his face returning to calm. He was in control again.

He glances quickly at his phone once more and takes the papers back from you, folding them into the pocket of his rain coat. You always felt this dread every time he left. You didn’t know when, or how, but he’d pop right back up in your life again and you’d be right back to where you were before. Anxious. Exposed. Dragged by the scruff and forced to keep up appearances until he left again.

Part of you wanted to always see him. To keep an eye on him. At least so it’d come as less of a fright. But you knew where he was. He was your shadow, never too far behind. Even if it scared you sometimes, deep down, you knew it was always there.

Edward rises on his long legs and scoots past you into the aisle. The words come out before you can stop them, “Will I see you before the party?”

He blinks a few times—a consequence of the contacts he wasn’t used to wearing. The faux freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose stretch underneath his smile.

Seeing him coming doesn’t stop you from flinching when his hand touches your cheek again. The heel of his palm presses into the side of your mouth while his fingers curl toward your nape.

He pats your cheek twice and leaves you there.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

Dwyer startles at the sound of your voice. You’re smart enough not to touch the picture frame in case it might be overstepping, instead keeping a finger pointed in it’s direction. It’s a beautiful picture. You could tell it was taken on one of Gotham’s atypical sunny days.

A host of emotions cross his face, but the most prominent is foreign to you. Pride. Your parents hadn’t had much of that for you. “I did,” the sorrow, though, was familiar, “she was killed when she was fifteen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your hand drops to your side.

One look at your face and he goes back to cleaning the action of his gun. “It’s alright. I got the motherfucker. You gonna finish your coffee?”

You’re just leaving the church when the shrill of your ringtone bounces off the walls. You quickly grab the belting thing and answer before anyone could say anything, shuffling out into the light drizzle, “Hello?”

You’re surprised to hear Gordon’s voice on the other line. His number in your phone was starting to be more ornamental than useful, “You might wanna get down to the precinct soon. We think we might have found something.”

“Did something come up?”

“A card, actually. The Bat noticed it in the pile of... letters the Riddler’s fans left. It’s the only one with anything concrete to it.”

“A clue?” A riddle, you mean to say. You hug your coat tighter to yourself and get as close to the road as you can without getting splashed by the cars that race by.

“Yeah... and an address.” So that was the word. You hiss through your teeth and shake your hand in the air, cursing each taxi that speeds right past you. “You think you can get here in the next ten minutes? Chief wants to go over our next move.”

Might be twenty, you want to growl. Since when did anyone in Gotham turn their nose up at a little extra cash in their pockets? It was like you were a ghost.

Just as you’re about to give up and start down where you’d come from on foot, a bike’s roar makes the concrete under your shoes shake and tremor. You hear it before you see it pull up in front of you, careful to slow down before your legs could get splashed with the city’s toxic rainwater.

The Bat is a welcome sight up until you realize that you hadn’t told anyone where you’d be going when Riddler had texted you to meet him.

Gordon’s distant voice calls through your phone. Batman explains, giving nothing away. “I thought this would be quicker.”

Was he watching? Did he know? Had your shadow really left, or was he pushed up between two buildings, watching you? Egging you on? Begging you to take this chance. You’re smart, but the line between reality and your reality blurred everyday.

Gordon calls your name again and you quickly recover, choking out, “I’ll be there in five.”

[apollosbitches]

Quackity lore spoilers below the cut!

Featuring: tws for torture and death! Also a reminder this is all about their characters and not the ccs themselves!

Just another day in the dsmp fandom

Quackity is in control of the smp now.

BUT, before you go asking why, I'll explain.

The stream started and Quackity went to do his cute daily visit to Dream as usual. But things were different.

Quackity puts his axe on the wall, daring Dream to grab it, to which Dream attempts to grab it and Quackity yells at him, forcing Dream to back into the corner.

Dream is scared shitless at this point, he's cowering and obeying Quackity's every word. He even says "yes sir" at one point. (I see you all simping over the yes sir, it's not cool, he's literally fearing for his life, he's literally saying that to his abuser)

So Quackity tells him to write a note to Techno. Dream stands up for himself and says he doesn't want to, but Quackity shuts him down, forcing him to listen. He's got Dream in the palm of his hand, he's got the leader of the server under his control.

I've seen people say because Wilbur is back, he's going to be in charge of the smp. But I disagree, Quackity is the ringleader now, he's holding the reins. We even see later on in the stream that he's got an elytra.

Nobody is allowed in The End, but you can only get elytra in The End.

He's the only one on the server that we have solid evidence that he's been to The End. Dream's most likely been there because he's the admin, he goes where he wants, but as of now, I'm sure that Quackity is the only one that we have evidence of going to The End.

"Oh but what about Ranboo!" I hear you, yes I understand that he's part enderman, but I doubt he's ever been to The End.

Quackity officially has something extremely valuable. Nobody else has an elytra. It shows his level of power. He took Wilbur's advice of taking power by force, and ran with it.

Not only that, but his mannerisms also show his power. In today's stream, his words sounded like something Dream would say.

He got people on his side by saying they have no legacy, no lasting effect. He told Foolish that his builds are impressive, but they hold no importance, they're just empty shells. He also told Foolish that he let him die at the banquet. He let Foolish die to show him what he could be.

Now for Purpled's role. Quackity put tnt in Purpled's house to get him to show up. He also convinced Purples to join him with the promise of money and a legacy. That legacy part comes in after the banquet. So he's payed Purpled and mentions that he has something else for him. He flicks a lever and it blows up Purpled's ufo. Quackity says things along the lines of, "it's for your own good, I need you to listen to me."

Now, that sounds familiar. Exile, maybe?

Dream took Tommy's things and exploded them to keep Tommy in line, to hold Tommy under his thumb.

Quackity blew up Purpled's ufo to force him to join his side, to make him be part of Nevadas.

Even in Fundy's dream, Quackity was showing Fundy things, saying they had no importance, they had no legacy for Fundy.

Quackity is acting more and more like Dream, he's acting like the man that he's torturing for punishment.

So the tl;dr is that Quackity is becoming Dream, in his mannerisms and the fact he's gaining control of the server.

[houndin-around]

Covenant | Maul

warnings; slight age gap? I guess, can’t remember if there’s cursing oops, boss-employee relationship

a/n; First ofF I’M DROPPING THIS BC IT’S A SPECIAL SOMEONE’S BIRTHDAYYYYY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KENNA ILY<3 @hxldmxdxwn 

- I’ve been avoiding dropping this because I’m super self conscious about my writing but oh well here we goooo! This is a more modern AU even though I use a lot of SW terms/lore but i’ll probably branch out as we go on throught he chapters. Takes place in coruscant and reader is 23! Maul ios around 30-31 haven’t fully decided yet. Uh hope everyone enjoys this!!

Summary; Getting an opportunity at a reputable company, you’re eager to show everyone what you’re made of. The only odd part is...no one knows who the owner is. 

not my gif

Curses rolled off your tongue as the silence was disturbed by the raucous alarm emitting from your phone. Hurriedly you tried to silence it, avoiding waking up your partner that is sleeping next to you. The clock read 4:55 am and the sky was still pitch black. Yet the lights of Galactic City never died, it was hard to get rid of the illumination in your room. Even some curtains weren’t enough to block the livelihood, something you still have yet to get used to. Staring up at the ceiling, the dread of leaving the warmth that consumed you whole was winning the battle lulling you back to sleep. Another ear-piercing song flowed out of your phone causing you to jolt upright. Rubbing the back of your neck, a sigh escaped your lips before you tossed your legs over the side of the mattress. From the second alarm, your boyfriend grumbled before turning over, aggressively pulling the sheets over himself.

Today was the day of your brand new job. Anxiety nestled in your gut the more you thought about it so you tried not to. Two years ago you were leaving Naboo and your family after school. It was one of the hardest things that you had to do, and being an adult wasn’t easy or all that it was chalked up to be. Living on Coruscant was a totally new experience. Everyone dressed so differently-- obsessing over the latest fashions, erasing the idea of modesty as well. Luckily for you, that’s when you met Kenth Madon. Upon arriving, your ship was having difficulties, and you needed a mechanic. Out of all the shops around you, you chose his almost as if it were fate. Due to frequenting his shop, Kenth got the courage to ask to see you outside of the permanently grungy, gas smelling establishment. It wasn’t your first relationship, although it has been quite a while. It was nice to have someone give you the type of attention Kenth did.

Since he grew up on Coruscant, your boyfriend claimed to know what real fashion was. Hinting at the fact yours was a little outdated. So,  he helped you restyle your wardrobe as you lacked any type of pizazz when it came to fitting in. At least according to him. During your outing, you still were drawn to rather lackluster choices of apparel, but at least it was slightly updated. Slipping on a white puff-sleeve shirt, you quickly tucked it into the black dress pants you were insistent on getting. The reality of putting on this outfit made your palms sweaty, your heart lurch up in your throat. with the realization of starting this new chapter in your life. Grabbing your white one-button jacket, you scanned your room one last time before placing a feathery kiss on Kenth’s stubbled cheek.  

—————————

“Next stop: Galactic Square. Please, refrain from getting up early and blocking the exits. Thank you.” the feminine voice echoed throughout the subway train.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, staring out of the viewport of the train. The job itself was competitive and the position wasn’t guaranteed. Nineteen other candidates were presenting their brand new prototypes for QuanCom, as well. The business that created the HoloNet, the Holocomms, comlinks, and much more. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This job could start you down a successful track, but you didn’t care. It was honestly only for the good-paying credits, since it was hard to find a job degree or not.

With a sudden stop shoving you against the seat, you quickly checked the time on your iPhone. 6:00 am. “Kriff!” you hissed to yourself. You were told work began at 8:00 am, so what in the hell were you going to do for an hour and a half? Being early helped ease your anxiety, though being this early only fueled it-- making it a lose-lose battle. Waiting for the other passengers to exit, you soon rose to your feet, swiftly leaping off the train. Examining the underground tunnels, your eyes shifted all over trying to locate the staircase leading upwards. It was crowded in the subway, yet it didn’t compare to the hustle and bustle that hurried by on the streets of Galactic City.

Humans, Rodians, Twi’leks, and species that you could swear you’ve never encountered before shouldered past you, as if you didn’t even exist. One long blink and an exasperated sigh later, you began to move your feet in the direction of QuanCom. The directions on your phone were confusing. The arrow rotating every once in a while was unable to read your location. Regardless, you continued hoping it was the correct way. The sudden smell of caf penetrated your nostrils, causing you to scrunch up your nose.

“If they sell caf, they probably have some deychin tea and maybe some food…” you trailed off hurriedly toward the small shop named “Caf Project ''.

Inside, it was cozy, brick-lined walls with a large sign hanging over the counter. Swallowing thickly, you stood back just far enough to show you were thinking of what you wanted, but really you were trying to stifle the anxiety welling back up as your mind kept going blank. A jingling sound interrupted your inner battles, and so did the voice of who was walking in.

“I don’t care. I told you to get this done yesterday. Not an hour before I arrived at the office. Is it really that hard to follow through? Do you not realize the utmost significance of this report? I swear I’m dealing with a bunch of imbeciles. Sith give me strength…'' Sucking in a breath, he glanced at you, brow raised. “Shut up for a second, Tannis.” He demanded before turning to you. “Are you in line?”

Your face went completely blank, just a second ago it sounded like he was about to murder whoever he was speaking to. But while speaking to you…his voice was smooth like silk, endearing actually. Swiftly shaking your head “no,” he stepped forward and flashed a warm grin at you, incisors slightly visible. Once again he continued yelling at someone, the barista not even batting an eye. His order was briskly made, though he didn’t even give any notion to what he had wanted. You couldn’t help but examine this stranger before you, attired in a charcoal grey suit that was paired with a very light grey dress shirt with two buttons undone. On his feet were freshly polished black Oxfords, his outfit so simple yet so suave. Once he handed the cashier some credits, you noticed a glimmer on his wrist, by the looks of it one kriffing expensive watch.

Adjusting the lanyard around your neck that holds your ID for QuanCom, the stranger with geometric tattoos all over his face turned to face you. You noticed a shiny stud piercing on the upper cartilage of his left ear. Maintaining some eye contact, you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach. He was quite handsome, and his ivory horns…wow, you thought to yourself, cheeks running hot. “Get yourself together...you’re with someone,” You reminded yourself.

Lips parting, he studied you up and down.

“Good luck.” The words were quietly mumbled as he continued listening to what you assumed to be an employee, on the other line.

“Thank you,” you mouthed back, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you continue to fidget with the lanyard.

Maybe, he had heard of the big job offer at QuanCom? Advertisements were flaunted everywhere; it was hard to miss them. Shaking your head lightly, you step forward, showing that you’re ready to order.

“I’ll have a small deychin tea please and…uh- um..a croissant?” Everything on the menu food-wise wasn’t too appealing, but you needed something in your stomach to satisfy the beast. “Uh..how much, sir?” you inquired, pulling some credits from your spotless white jacket.

Shaking his head, the cashier's lips opened to a wide grin, “No need, miss, the man before you covered your order. You’re all set!”

There was that wave of nausea again. Why would he do that? Who even was he? Was it just his generosity for the day? Or did he think you couldn’t afford much based on your attire? Sighing, you frantically think about what you’ll be expecting for this job, continuing on your path toward the QuanCom headquarters. Getting closer to your destination, you glance over your phone, once more checking the time. 7:50 am. Finally, what felt like forever was finally here, and you were so eager to start on a positive foot.

Entering the monstrous building, people were hustling all around you-- confused, lost, and eager to get their days going, as well. You had to remind yourself that you were here as competition and not as a friend for anyone. Though right now, you could really use a friend and some directions as this place was large and filled to the brim. Inspecting the environment, you noticed a few flimsies posted. Maker’s sake, it made things easier by telling you where to go. Padding toward the nearest elevator, you crammed yourself in amongst the other bodies seemingly all going to the same exact floor. Not being able to help it, you held your breath midway until the doors opened on floor 18. Exiting, you followed the tall, skinny woman down the hall to meeting room 1804. To your amazement, it was already quite full, so you took a seat nearest to the door, pulling out some flimsy and a stylus so that you’re ready to jot down any information. The room was white-walled with very little decor besides a large glass table in the center. This is where the fun begins, the long drawn out rules and regulations.

“Alright! Now that we’ve gone over the workplace protocol and the prototype expectations, I will pair you up into four groups of five.” Her voice was raspy, though flat enough to make your eyelids heavy. Everyone around you was also struggling to fight the sleep that tried overpowering them. Names being called brought you back to attention every now and then, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. “I’m sure Kenth sees more attractive women daily anyway…” you try to convince yourself.

“(Y/N), Fox, Steela, Hardcase, and…Finn. You five will make up group three.” The grouping continued slowly, but the names rang in your mind over and over. “Alright, now that groups are established, get to know one another and start some planning. Each member in your group has a very different degree path; this will help you all utilize one another's skills to create the best results for QuanCom. You have three weeks until you pitch your prototypes to Dooku, the COO.. Remember, 5 pm concludes your workday, so get to it.”

Sitting around your new coworkers, you fumbled around with your stylus, afraid to make the first move for introductions. It seems that you weren’t the only one being fidgety;  the gentleman named Hardcase was bouncing his leg vigorously. If you were correct, he and Fox were clones. After the bill was granted clones rights and citizenship, they ended up all over the system. So many felt that cloning was unethical, especially for the fact they were treated similarly to droids. Though it was nice to see the two making something of themselves.

“Guess I’ll start! The name’s Hardcase. Yes I’m a clone, and--yes--I’m perfectly capable of thinking for myself. I’m great with my hands and can assemble anything together. For a short while, I was working as a mechanical engineer for the GAR.” The clone oozed with excitement and enthusiasm, which was quite entertaining. Clad in a pink-hued dress shirt and a blue suit, which matched his facial tattoos. On his feet were freshly polished loafers still tapping the ground.

“Well, I’m Fox. My skills are geared toward CAD and any type of 3D rendering. Once I devote myself to something, I see it through. You can trust me on this project; I assure you that,” he barely showed any type of emotions compared to his counterpart. His attire was dark-- suit, shoes, everything. It said a lot about him and which made you anxious.

“Well, I’m Steela! Researching is my speciality. Problem-solving is also a breeze. I’ll be able to find the answers in order to help us advance to a whole other level! I enjoy leading projects like this, since I know I can keep us on track one hundred percent!” The excitement radiating from her was encouraging. She seemed like a strong woman ready to lead this team to success. She wore brown high waisted dress pants with a matching blazer, and white blouse. On her feet were suede, caramel heel booties.

“I’ll go next…” the young Twi’lek’s voice was soft and elegant, soothing to everyone in the group. Just as she was about to speak the double-doors swung open.

“Asajj, we have a problem,” her voice hushed but full of urgency as she glanced around the room. “Tannis was fired. We need to fill her position. Now!”

“Gods, I knew this was going to happen. I told her she wasn’t ready for this position. Now he’s going to take it out on me,” Asajj let out a long sigh, arms folding across her body. The woman that just emerged looked similar to her, though her face was more relaxed.

“(Y/N), can you come over here for a second please?”

Everyone in the room glanced up at you before continuing their tasks.. Rising from your chair, you crossed the room sliding past everyone with ease. Asajj acted like she was presenting the finest delicacy in the galaxy; arms held out at you.

“I think she’ll do. A tad on the quiet side, but I’m sure Mr. Crimson can work with it,” Her response was more of a question, as both women had their eyes upon you.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice. You cannot run this and take on two secretary positions. You’re going to need the help,” The woman’s pale grey eyes burned into you.  

“Fine. Take her to Mr. Crimson. You better hope he approves,” Asajj warned, giving you one last glance.

Quickly grabbing your belongings, the conversation you just had replays in your mind.

“Tannis,”

Why did that name sound so familiar? Who’s Mr. Crimson and why did you have to go see him.  Your mind whirled around, anxiety eating away as you set foot in the elevator. It felt like a full rotation cycle before reaching floor twenty. Being led out you walked down a hallway that was decorated lavishly. The flooring was a beautiful dark marble. Each step you took echoed off the walls. Nearing the end of the hall, both of you walked through another set of tall glass double doors. Entering the spacious room, you can’t help but notice the viewport walls. Also catching your attention were two long black desks. They were set across from one another stacked with datapads and pieces of flimsy. Towards the middle was a closed black door that had a frosted glass panel. Without a doubt this room was breathtaking and even though it lacked decor compared to the hallway, the view of Galactic City made up for it. Light knuckles hit against the panel three times, waiting for a response.

“What is it now?” The aggressive tone was enough to send a chill down your spine.

Slowly opening the door to peek her head in. A few words were exchanged before she fully opened the door, motioning for you to follow right behind. Inside was a long glass desk, the legs were black; matching some of the furnishings or complimenting them. In front were two rounded leather chairs, the area rug underneath a bright white. Paintings and picture frames hung on the right side of the room, though you were too afraid to really gawk at them as a gruff voice began erupting again. There he sat, his black leather chair facing the viewports behind his desk seeming to be amidst another phone call.  Something about his voice was all too familiar but the fear bubbling inside you made it difficult to pinpoint. Soon enough he swung his chair around slamming the phone down, right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What was so important that you had to interrupt yet another phone call, Leys. If it’s not about numbers, you know, the job I pay you to do? Then leave. I’ll fire you too. I’ve had it with everyone’s complacent behavior. Any fool could be my financial officer, so if you as so step out of line again, you’re done,” The snarl erupting from this man was horrifying, bringing you back to the Caf shop.

It was him! The same eerie tone used then too, and yet he was able to turn it off so quickly when addressing you. Your hands began to clam up, eyes not even daring to meet his.

“Yes sir, I understand I’m very sorry. I just wanted to bring you Tannis’ replacement,” voice quivering, Leys bowed her head and hurriedly left Mr. Crimson’s office leaving you behind, alone and defenseless.

A satisfied chuckle was released from Mr. Crimson as he watched his employee scatter from his office. Brow raised in your direction, his stare intense, a sneer presenting itself. “Well. Take a seat.”

His hand motioned to the smaller round chairs, eyes never leaving you. Pushing his seat back just a smidge, a polished shoe crosses over his left thigh and his hands fold against his stomach. Releasing the breath you were holding in, you padded over to the seat in front of his desk sitting as straight as humanly possible.

“It seems I’m in need of another secretary. But it’s not an easy job-- I need someone reliable, someone organized, and to understand the urgency of when I say to do something, they do it,” Towards the end of the sentence, his voice dropped a little lower, eyes narrowing. “It is a permanent job that is until mistakes are made. Pays reasonably well especially for dealing with...someone like me. Seems Asajj and Leys picked you and they’re typically alright when it comes to the judgment of character.”

Something about the way he spoke to you made your heart skip a beat. Even the way he stared at you had your arms lined with goosebumps. Trying to compile a coherent sentence was no easy feat with his eyes burning into you.

 “I-I, um..” fumbling over your words caused your cheeks to run hot. “Well...first off I wanted to thank you for this morning. You really didn’t have to pay for me...but I greatly appreciate it. As for my work, I am quite organized and pay attention to directions given, but I don’t exactly have the experience in being a secretary, which would probably be important…” trailing off, you broke eye contact with him to glance at a red light blinking on his phone.

He barely acknowledged your thanks, just giving a small nod. A deep hearty laugh left his lips, “Any fool could be a secretary, but you don’t seem like a fool. No, just the way you speak and hold yourself exudes intelligence. Normally a secretary is chosen from within the company, as an outsider could be one that would leak vital information about QuanCom to its competitors. Someone that has worked their way up the ranks, whom I could trust. However, due to obvious circumstances here we are. If you so choose to take this job you will have limited access to certain databases as I need you to earn that trust. Understood?” The sneer plastered itself once more upon his face, incisors visible this time.

“Yes sir, I understand. I’ll make sure I do this right Mr. Crimson!” a little bit of enthusiasm worked its way to you, eyes lighting up like Coruscant itself.

“Please, call me Maul.” he pleaded, followed by a half-smirk.

Rising to his feet, he outstretched a hand that you mirrored. His callused hand engulfing yours in a gentle embrace. Just this morning you were going in ready to compete against nineteen other candidates, and here you are sealing a deal with the CEO of QuanCom to be his second secretary. Breaking the handshake, he opens up his desk drawer pulling out a datapad, handing it to you.

“That will be yours. You’ll need it for all the paperwork and emails. You’re free to take it home, just don’t lose it. Asajj will send you some emails tonight that will need to be completed before you come in tomorrow morning at 6 sharp. Once you do that you’ll be set up in our system and able to begin your duties. You’re dismissed for the day, but you will be paid for a full day. Just a small token of gratitude.”

Taking the datapad in your hands, you gave a curt nod, ensuring you understood the importance that was just given to you. Getting yourself together along with your things, you exchanged a few words expressing how grateful you are for this new position. Heading toward the door, you outstretch a hand to grab the handle. Just as you’re about to open the black door, his voice cuts the silence.

“Oh, one last thing, don’t mention our little encounter this morning to anyone. Some may think... I’m beginning to play favorites.” his voice honeyed paired with a smirk and eyes ogling you, trying to take in one last visual before you leave.

---------

taglist: @maulfrk​ @honestlystop​ @pinkiemme​ @idiotonastar​ @nawpitynopenope @maulieber​ @rishi-moon​ 

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (16) Corner of Main and State

"Yeah, so mom…we made it to New Jersey, and we're all safe...but the Heartstone isn't really...impressive. So, we're bringing what we found home. See you soon!" In Which Arcadia welcomes back it's underground citizens, Jim gets used to mundane life as a Troll, and drama seeks them all out like a magnet.

Ao3 | FF.net

I’m rewatching Trollhunters, because it’s been like a year since I watched it, and the more I listen, the less the plot of Wizards makes sense to me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but there’s some lore and continuity issues. That being said, I’ll continue to write this story using Trollhunter’s lore primarily, with a sprinkle of Wizards and 3Below lore as I see fit. :)

—

Jim had been through a lot of trauma in his life. At least since becoming the Trollhunter. But nothing was as jarring as looking down to his chest and seeing his ribcage, muscles, and heart beating. 

They had taken the amulet from where it was nestled, and in return, left the gaping hole wide open, oozing with blood, and exposed. Could trolls get infections? Because humans certainly could, and this was just asking for infection. 

He had been lying here alone for a few hours now. It was hard to tell exactly how long in the vast passage of time while drenched in pain. 

When Colonel Kubritz appeared at his side, he wasn’t even surprised. Had he fallen asleep?

“How do you get this to work?” She bit. In her hand, she held the cleaned amulet, and it glowed, aching to be back with him. 

“You can’t. You have to be chosen by it. Even if I die, it will pick someone else. And it might not be you.” 

She slapped him for that, but it looked like it hurt her more than him, by the wince on her face. “Don’t give me that crap. Tell me how to work it!” 

“Just speak the incantation inscribed.”

“We already tried that.”

He shrugged. “That’s all it is.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Teach me to use it, and I’ll let you go home.” 

Jim sighed. It was pointless, but he may as well try. 

—

Claire rang the doorbell at the designated house. 

A surly man opened the door. “Yeah? What do you want? No solicitors! Unless you’re a girl scout…no, you’re too old. Are you with the tamale lady?” 

“Hello sir, I’m not here to sell anything, I actually came to ask about the car you had totaled a few days ago.”

“Are you here to hunt down that devil that flipped my baby?!” He gestured to the smashed in car in the driveway. It looked drivable, but one bump away from death. 

“Not quite...I’m actually here to fix it.” 

“Fix it? You want to fix that? My mechanic couldn’t even fix it! And you want to! What are you, 15?” 

“17, actually.” 

“I doubt you have the experience for this, little lady.” 

“Oh, I’m not a mechanic, I’m a sorceress.” 

“A what now?” 

“Sorceress, a witch! Do I have permission to fix your truck?” 

“Girlie, if you can fix my truck, I’ll owe you a huge favor.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that!” With a little skip, Claire went over to the truck and rested her hands on the hood. “Ad initium redire...” Her hands glowed purple, and pulsed against the metal, making it groan. Then it began to twist and crunch, popping out dents and welding pieces back together. 

The old man stood in shock as his beloved truck knit back together, and when she was done, it was in perfect condition. 

“How did—where did you—?!” He rounded the car, circling it like a vulture. “It’s perfect! You even took out that bump from years ago! You’re a miracle worker, girlie!” 

Claire fell on her butt on the driveway, dizzy and winded. “Glad to help.” 

“You alright?” 

“Just a little winded. I’m still getting used to using magic, especially without a staff. It’s exhausting.” 

“Well why don’t you take a seat up on the porch instead of the road? I’ll get you a beer.” 

“I’m seventeen.” 

“You’ve earned it!” 

Claire chuckled to herself and climbed to her feet. She followed the man up his steps and took a seat on the porch swing while he went inside. 

Only a minute later, he returned with beers in hand. “Here you are darlin’. Summertime ale. I’m partial to dark ale myself, but my neighbor got me this pale ale. It’s pretty good! You have a favorite?” 

Claire took a sip and tried to hide the grimace. “I don’t really get to drink very often, unless it’s a special occasion.” 

“Right right, we’ll keep it our little secret. Now then, I owe you a favor. You just saved me a whole chunk of change and a basket of anxiety. You must have something in mind since you offered?” He suddenly sat up straight. “Oh god, you don’t want my soul do you?” 

Claire snorted. “No no, you can keep your soul! Don’t know what I would do with it anyways...You know the boy that damaged your truck in the first place?” 

“I only saw a glimpse of him, that blue devil? What about him?” 

“He’s actually my boyfriend, and he’s really very sweet and usually not like this. But he was...fed something he shouldn’t have had and it made him go berserk.” 

“Crying shame.” 

“I’ll say! So the army came in and took him away! They wouldn’t listen to us at all!” 

“So what do you want me to do about it?” 

“We are going to run a campaign to get him out. Hopefully, if we get enough attention on the issue, they’ll let him go.” 

“Oh, I gotcha.” 

“So if you could just...spread the truth around town? He’s actually the one that stopped that troll invasion back at the beginning of summer.” 

The man looked surprised at that. “No kidding, that was him? Well, he’s a local hero! He’s been talked about a lot since then! Sure I’ll set the record straight! What’s this kid’s name?”

“Jim Lake Jr.” 

“Got it! Don’t worry, I’ll bring it up at the lodge, and the rotary, and the chess club...”

—

The phone was ringing, he had been successfully patched through. Strickler sat in his office after hours, wanting to make the call as private as possible. 

“Stricklander, I haven’t heard from you since the fall of the Janus order. What reason have you called on me?” 

“Can’t I just call an old friend to catch up?”

“You? No.”

Walt cracked a smile. “Fine. I need a favor.” 

“Changeling to changeling, or school principal to army general?” 

“The latter, actually.” 

The man on the other line laughed. “Color me intrigued.” 

“You know of the human Trollhunter, correct?”

“Just what you wrote in your dossier, a human male, 16 years old, lives in Arcadia Oaks, California, turned half-troll by the wizard Merlin. Responsible for the death of Bular and Gunmar. Quite a remarkable young soul. Is there anything else to know?”

“He’s been captured by the United States Army.”

The man let out half a chuckle. “Captured? What dumb trouble did he get into?”

“His deadbeat father left out some cocaine for the boy to find, he thought it was trash, and ate it.”

Distantly on the other line, there was laughter, a strong bark of laughter that lasted far too long. When he came back, he was calm. “How unfortunate.” 

“He’s a good kid. Why would there be a kilogram of cocaine in the trash anyways? I fail to see the humor in the situation.” 

“Of course. So, I assume, he went on a rampage following his meal, and then attracted the attention of some of us?” 

“So you haven’t heard about it?” 

“Not where I’m stationed. But give me a moment.” The line went silent, only a very distant and quiet tapping of keys on a keyboard being tapped. Then the man returned. “I’m glad you told me about this. This incident hasn’t been reported to our database. That shows evidence of misconduct. Did you get the name of the commanding officer responsible, by chance?” 

“Colonel Kubritz, I believe.” 

More typing. “Area 49-B.”

“That name was also passed around.” 

“Technically not my jurisdiction, and since she didn’t report it, I’m not supposed to know about it.”

“I’m afraid you will officially know about it soon.” 

“Oh?”

“His friends and family, myself included, are going to put on a protest for his freedom. Drawing attention to the situation.” 

That echoing laughter was back again. 

“It wasn’t my idea, in case you were wondering.” 

“I know, you wouldn’t come up with something so bold. Regardless, go ahead in through with it. I’ll make sure whatever protest happens gets brought to my superior’s attention, and then I will take it from there.” 

“Thanks. I will owe you one.” 

“Oh come now, Walter, we Changelings that survived the Fall of the Janus order have to stick together. Besides, I heard rumors that you’re caring for my familiar?”

“He’s still in the cradle stone, and the moment. One baby at a time, for now.” 

“Then we’re even. Besides, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“Your kindness is refreshing. I’m glad Gunmar didn’t eat you.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“We’ll be in touch then, Samuel.” 

“Of course, Walter.” 

—

“How goes the car repair?” Asked Merlin, as he met up with Toby and Claire in the park. 

“Ugh, exhausting. First I stopped at the mechanics, and they’re still backed up with fixing other cars. Apparently, Gunmar’s army did a number and backed them up for months. But they gave me the names of all the clients who got totaled from Jim. I had to hit the scrap yard for four of them, and I just finished another two in driveways.” 

“How many does that leave you with?”

“Seven more,” she sighed. “How goes the road work?”

“It goes. Now come along, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He didn’t wait for them to follow as he turned and started walking away. 

Sharing a dubious look, Toby and Claire quickly caught up with him. He led them to a bookstore, where a young man was sweeping outside. 

“Hisirdoux, my faithful and loyal apprentice—“

“You're damn straight I’m loyal!” He shouted. “Where have you been? I’ve been cleaning tables for the last 900 years!” 

“Calm yourself boy, I’m here now, aren’t I? And I need your help.” 

“Finally! What is it? Just say the word!”

“I need you to go with Miss Claire Nuñez and help her restore recently smashed vehicles.”

“What?”

“Or, you can repair street damage.” 

Douxie crossed his arms. “What is this? I saw what happened! There were trolls, and evidence of Morgana! And now you need my help? To clean up, several months later?”

“That is correct.” 

“Why didn’t you call for me back then?!”

“I forgot.” 

“You forgot? About me?”

“Oh come now, don’t take it personally. I was busy trying to prepare the Trollhunter to fight Gunmar. And get my magic back from Morgana.” 

Douxie seemed to become more sympathetic at that. “Morgana stole your magic?” 

“Yes, but it’s all in the past now. Everything is fine. Well, not really. Seems that the US Army has declared the Trollhunter as a menace to society. We must get the trust of the city on our side if we are to get them to trust us, and agree that his capture is unjust.” 

“Please,” said Claire. “We need all the help we can get.” 

Douxie sighed. “Alright. Afterwards, you’re training me again.” He gave Merlin a hard look. “And no amateur magic either. I’ve been doing the same drills for 900 years. I think I’m ready for more advanced work.”

“Oh, you will be. Starting with helping Miss Nuñez field her shadow magic.”

Douxie looked at her, in awe. “You’re practicing shadow magic? Truly?”

“It’s a recent development…”

“She took Morgana’s Skathe-Hrün, and wielded it without any training. Because of that she has a tether to Morgana in the Shadow realm, who has been teaching her ever so slightly. I’m not allowed to train her, but she could use the guidance of a Wizard in the physical realm. Do you understand Hisirdoux?” 

“I do, and I’ll be happy to teach her…I’m just…I’ll need a moment or two to digest the sentence you just said.” 

“Well, don’t take too long, we have a Trollhunter to rescue!” 

—

There was a heavy knock on the door, which was never a good thing. Especially nowadays. 

Still, Barbara went to the door. 

Standing there was Detective Scott and James Lake Sr. 

“Does this belong to you?” Asked the detective. 

“I don’t claim him, no.” 

Her almost ex-husband smiled at her, pleadingly, “Please Babs?” 

“What is he even doing out? You arrested him!”

“About that…” Detective Scott winced. “We don’t have enough to keep him on.” 

“What!” She shouted. “He confessed in front of a bunch of people!”

“Which would be helpful if we had a case for a trial. But as it stands, he doesn’t actually have any drugs on him. And we don’t have a confession on tape. So…we’re shit out of luck.” 

“Oh come on Louis, you know the cocaine came from him! Where else would Jim have gotten it from?” 

“Look, the chief’s not thrilled that we didn’t arrest the guy responsible for trashing the town, but we’re supposed to arrest someone else without evidence?” 

Barbara threw her hands up in the air. “With probable cause!” 

“That doesn’t work with drug dealers. He’s clean, Barbara. All the blood tests came back clean too.” 

“Ugh.”

The house shook slightly, and Barbara felt the floor bow behind her. “Is there a problem, officer?” Asked Draal. 

“Nothing you can help with, Draal. Thank you.” Barbara sighed. “James is not being charged.” 

“But he is a criminal, this degenerate flesh bag poisoned the Trollhunter! He should face banishment for his crimes!” 

James withered a little with the glare Draal gave him. 

“Well,” said Officer Scott. “Maybe you can keep an eye on him from now on. If you have evidence that he is dealing, like physical traces of cocaine on the premises, call us. But for now, there’s not much else we can do.” 

“This is ludicrous.”

“I know, I’m sorry Barbara. How is Jim?”

She frowned. “You haven’t heard? The army came and collected him from the hospital!”

Louis sputtered. “The army came?!”

“Yes!”

“Where were they when Gunmar was terrorizing us?” He scoffed. “Again, sorry Barbara, I can’t help you here.” 

“It’s alright. We’ve got a plan.” 

“Love to hear it, but I’ve got to get back to the office. I’m sure Toby will tell Darci, and she’ll tell me. Good luck!” And he left James on the porch. 

“Babs, I’m sorry…” 

“Save it.” Barbara scoffed, but allowed him in the house. 

Draal never took his eyes off the man. 

“Well, you’ll be happy to know I have no more supply. And after Rudy found out what happened to my last Kilo, she’s not getting anymore for me. So…”

“I’ll have to thank Jim for keeping a kilogram of Cocaine off the streets of Arcadia. We have a fairly low rate of drug use around here, and we don’t need you to ruin people’s lives.” 

James sighed, knowing he had dodged a huge bullet by being let off the hook. He’d rather deal with his wife than with his ex-associates in jail any day. “I think I’ve still ruined people’s lives anyway.” He walked into the living room, only to halt at the signs on the table. 

Release Jim Lake Jr. 

Justice for Jim

Let Lake Go!

“Babs, what is all this?”

“That’s part of our plan to free Jim! I’m friends with the councilwoman, and she suggested that we campaign for his release. Bringing a lot of unwanted attention onto his capture will stir the government to let him go!”

James jutted out his jaw, a sign of barely concealed rage. An expression Barbara had grown very used to in the last few months. “So, you’re going to put his name—my name in the news? You’re going to broadcast what city we live in?” 

“Yes.” 

He whirled on her, grabbing her arm. “Babs, people are looking for me! Horrible, mean, and ruthless people! If you put his name out there, they’ll know where to look!” 

“All the better! Then they can come take you off my hands!” 

“You don’t understand! I owe them a lot of money, and they’ll take it anyway they can! That includes extorting you, Jim, and whoever else they connect with me!” 

Draal stepped in, removing his hand from Barbara’s arm. “This house is under my protection. If anyone dare tries to enter, they will be dealt with swiftly.”

“You don’t know what these men are capable of.” 

“I assure you, I’ve decimated armies of flesh bags in my day. These men are no different.”  

Barbara smiled. “If you’re really that scared, I hear Vermont is lovely this time of year.” 

James just narrowed his eyes, before storming out of the room.

—

The first rally took place from 3pm to dusk, starting from after school, and leading up to when Trolls would be able to participate. Granted, it was only a handful of people, but standing in the middle of downtown did garner a lot of attention. More than a dozen people walking past had stopped to ask about the cause. They were then given a short synopsis of the situation, as it pertained to them:

“Jim is a 16 year old student who was chosen by the trolls to be our protector. He willingly gave up his humanity to defeat Gunmar the Black, the monstrous troll that attacked the city at the beginning of the summer. Now, he looks like a troll, and was sabotaged to go into a rage and damage the city. The US army took him away without a trial! He’s a hero to the city, and deserves fair treatment!”

Reactions ranged from: 

“Oh, he stopped that thing?”

To:

“Oh my god! He’s just a child!” 

Overwhelmingly, there was no negative feedback, at least in person. But it was only day one. 

—

“This daylight...is it significant?” The colonel asked, as she circled his table. 

“It’s just a name.” Jim lied. “A sword with a name is stronger than one without.” 

“Interesting. Interesting indeed. According to my notes, trolls turn to stone in daylight. Any correlation there?” 

So she already knew? Then what was the point? Was she just playing with him?

“I’m the Trollhunter, and I fight bad trolls. It would make sense to name my sword after something they’re afraid of.” 

She hummed. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Are you afraid of daylight?” 

“Why would I be?” 

The colonel laughed. “Oh Jim Lake Jr. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met. You are honest and forthcoming with truths that work in your favor. You freely told me of your transformation, and of your victory against a Troll tyrant. But now that I’m edging on the topic of your weakness, you clam up and give me vague answers. I can do this all day, beast. What does daylight do to you?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t do anything to me.” 

“Really? Even as a troll? That’s interesting.” 

“It’s fortunate.” 

“I would say so. Though, now you’ve got me curious. These burns on your skin…where did they come from?” She dragged her fingernail over one of the dark marks.

Jim winced. “I don’t know. I wasn’t aware in my rage state.”

“Then you won’t mind if I find out for myself?” She crooked a finger towards the shadows. Jim could hear the creak of wheels before a lamp with several fixtures was wheeled forward. 

“Oh no…”

“UV lights, all different wattages. Let’s see what works the best, hmm?”

—

ARCADIA TRIBUNE

Justice for Jim

By Nadja Chamack 

Who is Jim Lake Jr. anyway? This is a question I asked myself as I drove downtown three days ago. No doubt, you’ve seen the crowd of students and teachers holding signs on the corner of Main and State Street. It’s pretty hard to miss, quite honestly. Among the students, there’s also Councilwoman Nuñez, and resident Troll Mascot, ARRRGH! Signs range from ‘Justice for Jim’ to ‘Free our Lake’. 

But who is Jim Lake Jr.? And what happened? A precursory search on my end showed only a scant few facts. Jim is a student at Arcadia Highschool, in his Junior year. He was nominated as Spring Fling King last year, and played the part of Romeo in the school play. His criminal record seemed pretty clean too. A misdemeanor for scratching a rental scooter was all that showed up. But hey, who hasn’t done that?

So I went to the source, his family and friends campaigning for him. On Saturday, the group was downtown, campaigning all day long, so I had the chance to interview each and every person about why they were there.

Turns out, Jim Lake Jr. might be the most amazing person in Arcadia. 

From his mother, Dr. Barbara Lake, I learned that Jim is an Arcadia native, born and raised here. He enjoys cooking gourmet food, working on his vespa, and acting. 

Oh, and he’s the first human Trollhunter. 

What? You’ve never heard of a Trollhunter? Me neither. But Barbara and Blinky, another resident Troll, gave me the scoop. 

You all remember that night at the beginning of the summer that we all promised not to talk about? Well, I’m going to talk about it. In fact, I’m here to give you all the answers you’ve been craving. 

Many months before that fateful night, a new Trollhunter was chosen, after the previous one had perished. “The Trollhunter is chosen according to his mettle, by the amulet of the Trollhunter, as created by Merlin, the wizard of Arthurian legend. Jim was chosen after the fall of Kanjigar, his predecessor. Jim is the first human to be chosen, also the smallest and weakest. But, he was the first to defeat Bular, son of Gunmar!” Said his mentor, Blinky. None of this made any sense to me at first, though it was said with great enthusiasm. 

It turns out, the trolls that we’ve gotten used to seeing around town, mostly ARRRGH, are ‘good’ trolls. The bad trolls, ‘Gum-gums’ are what invaded our town and destroyed my car. The Trollhunter’s whole job is to fight off these bad trolls, and gnomes, and goblins, and everything else that goes bump in the night. And so he did. The Gum-Gums invaded from the ‘Darklands’, being led by a fearsome troll named Gunmar the Black, the Skullcrasher, the Dark Lord…he had a lot of names, and it was obviously a bad dude. Gunmar had plans to invade the whole world by blotting out the sun, a.k.a the eclipse we saw. And he would have gotten away for it too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids! 

Mainly Jim Lake Jr. and his friends. 

And how does a sixteen year old defeat a couple millennia old, bloodthirsty, all powerful tyrant? With a fancy sword? Close. With some magical armor? Closer. By giving up a part of his humanity and becoming a half-human, half-troll hybrid? Now you’re getting it! Yes, to protect Arcadia, to protect us, Jim Lake Jr. allowed himself to be changed. You may have seen him around town. Blue skin, big horns...okay, I just described most of the trolls that are around here. 

“Jim works the night shift at my store,” said Stu Harding, owner of Thrifty Furnishings. “He’s a very hard worker, and always willing to do the heavy lifting that is hard for the other employees to do.” 

“Despite his appearance, Jim ultimately decided to attend school,” said Principal Walter Strickler. “After the school found out about why he had missed so many days of school, they were willing to move him onto the next grade to be with his peers. He was a good student before all this, and he fought really hard to keep his grades up regardless. We felt he should still have the opportunity to graduate. We were looking forward to having him on our football team, and in our spring production of Beauty and the Beast.” 

So what happened to Jim? And why is there such a big campaign for his freedom?

Well, the truth is that Jim is a victim of unfortunate circumstances. In more ways than one, obviously. Trolls eat our trash. That’s why Arcadia has such a small carbon footprint! (Be sure to thank ARRRGH next time you see him!) And this trait was adopted by Jim too, when he was transformed. 

“He just picked a bunch of items out of the trash. Cans, an old sock, and what looked like a VHS wrapped in duct tape,” said Jim’s best friend, Toby Dolmzalski. “It was a normal lunch for him. But right in the middle of gym class, he turned crazy town banana pants and took off! I had never seen Jim act like that! Ever!” 

After an 8 hour rage through town, Jim collapsed and was taken to the hospital for evaluation. It turns out what Jim had ingested turned out to be a kilogram of pure cocaine! 

At this time, it is unknown where the cocaine came from, or if it was planted purposefully. (Seriously, who throws away a kilogram of cocaine?)

But the damage that Jim caused was extensive enough to catch the attention of the US army, who has taken Jim into captivity from the hospital. No trial, no rights, they even took him while he was unconscious. His friends and family have not heard from him since. 

“I’m so worried,” said girlfriend, Claire Nuñez. “He was injured from the battle with Gunmar, and didn’t completely heal. In the hospital, he was covered in burns from the sun. I have no idea if they’re caring for him properly, or dissecting him like some creature. But he deserves so much better than this. He saved our town, he saved my life, and the life of my baby brother. That’s why we won’t rest until he’s home!” 

“Not bad,” said ARRRGH, long time friend of Jim. “Good troll have bad days, best trolls have worse days. Jim need some good days.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself, ARRRGH. 

Friends and family of Jim are asking everyone share #JusticeforJim on social media, hoping to get the attention of someone in charge. All the damage caused by Jim has been repaired, and there were no casualties from his attack.  

Of course, the whole ‘troll’ aspect of this story has to be a local legend. So when sharing it to social media, kindly leave that part out.   

—

“C-Bomb!” Mary shouted from the other end of the hall. She came running and almost crashed into Claire and Toby, holding her phone up in the air. “My twitter feed is blowing up, girl! Look at all of this!” She held the screen up so they could see. 

“Citizen abducted by the government, is this China or North Korea? Neither! It’s the US! #JusticeforJim” 

“Imagine if this was your son. So sad, and so scary! #JusticeforJim”

“This is real life, not science fiction #JusticeforJim” 

“Whoa, where did these all come from?” Asked Claire. “What did you post?” 

“Did you know Snapper Karr did a report on it!?”

“Snapper Karr? From KTTV in LA?” 

“Yes! Thankfully, he left out the whole troll thing. I’ll send you a link. In his story, Jim is just a kid that has a rare genetic disorder that makes him look different, and so the government took him away!” 

Claire winced. “This is…kind of spiraling out of control.”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying, Claire,” said Darci. “We want people talking about Jim getting abducted. It doesn’t matter if the world outside Arcadia doesn’t have all the facts. They still know he’s been taken away without a trial, and that’s all that’s important. Besides, Jim doesn’t want the whole world knowing about Trolls, right?”

She nodded. “As long as this works, I’ll be happy.” 

“And sensationalist stories like this blow up for like a week, and then they die out and are forgotten. This won’t last.” Mary waved her hand. “It should work long enough to get Jimmy Jam out though.” Then she squealed. “OMG you know what we should do?! We should totally have a welcome home party! Or-or a parade! Like they have for veterans!” 

“Mary, I don’t think—“ 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it! You’re not the only one with ties to the city!” And she hurried off, texting frantically. 

“What’s up Claire? I would have thought you’d be ecstatic the hashtag went viral.” Asked Toby. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I am happy. And I’m happy that Snapper Karr chalked the troll thing up to local legend or superstition…but I can’t help but worry that something bad is going to come out of this.” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling.” She scoffed and went to her locker. “It’s dumb, don’t worry about it.” 

No sooner had she said that, did Strickler appear. “Claire, Toby, come with me.” 

“What?” 

“I’ve already spoken with your teachers, now come along.” 

Claire and Toby shared a look, but followed regardless.

—

They were led to the parking lot, where a black van with tinted windows waited, a huge red flag, if there ever was one. 

“Umm…” said Toby. 

“Don’t worry.” Strickler assured. 

A man in an army uniform stepped out of the driver seat. “Walter, good to see you again.”

“Glad to see you as well, Samuel. And thank you for following through with your promise.” 

“As I said, this is the most interesting thing to happen in a while.” He glanced at the two teenagers in attendance. “We’re just waiting for his mother, correct?” 

“She should be here soon.”

Toby muttered to Claire, “Who’s Jorgen Von Strangle over here?”

“No idea.”

And just like that, Barbara pulled into the parking lot, haphazardly parked, and ran over to them, still in her scrubs. “I came as soon as I could! We’re going to get Jim?!” 

“What?!” Screamed Toby. “We’re rescuing him?!” 

“That is the goal,” the man answered. “I’m General Samuel Attila. I’ve been given authorization to intervene in this situation, given that this project, whatever it is, hasn’t been officially recorded. But, bear in mind, you may not like what you see. We may be bringing home Jim, or just his body. I don’t know. So if anyone is uncomfortable with that idea, I suggest you stay behind.” 

“I’m going,” Said Toby. “No matter what.” 

“Me too,” said Claire. “It’ll hurt, but I want to know what happened to him.” 

“Alright, then let’s hurry. The facility is about an hour away.” He ushered everyone into the van, which had two front seats, two benches along the walls, and a gurney in the middle. As soon as everyone was buckled, they headed out.

“Hey, if you know Mr. Strickler, does that mean you’re a…?” 

“A what, Toby?” Asked Walt, with a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“A…man of culture?”

“Yes, I am a changeling.” 

Toby exhaled. “Okay, it’s like super hard to ask that question when you don’t know who knows, you know?” 

“I owe the Trollhunter a debt of gratitude for stopping Gunmar. After he ate the entirety of the Janus order, we the few that weren’t present for his return stayed in hiding. Had Gunmar taken over the world, my death as a traitor would have been slow and painful. We were thinking about sending him a thoughtful gift basket, but I think this is more fun. I love to bully those in lower ranks. The fleshbags get a few pretty badges and think they’re invincible. I love watching them cower!” 

Toby leaned closer to Claire. “He was so nice and helpful, I was beginning to wonder if he was actually a changeling.” 

“Same! But I actually feel better knowing he’s got ulterior motives, and that they have nothing to do with us.” 

“Have you heard from Nomura lately?” Samuel asked Walter. 

“She was in Arcadia for a while. She helped with the fight with Gunmar. Right now, I believe she’s on her way back from New Jersey.” 

“New Jersey? What was she doing out there?”

“After Morgana and Gunmar destroyed the Heartstone, Jim and Blinky went in search of a new one.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot there were rumors of a source in New Jersey. Did they find it?” 

“Yep,” said Claire. “But it wasn’t very big, so we brought it back to Arcadia in a truck. The rest of the tribe is making their way back on foot.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Samuel nodded. “You’re both very lucky. Not many Changeling’s are allowed in Trollmarket.” 

“Now that Gunmar’s out of the picture, I’m sure you could visit too!” Toby exclaimed, before getting elbowed in the gut by Claire. 

“It’d be nice to see it once. I’m sad I didn’t get to see the Heartstone in its glory, but such is life.”

The rest of the ride continued in relative silence. Strickler and Samuel spoke to each other, mostly catching up. But Toby, Claire, and Barbara were far too anxious to keep up with the conversation. 

There were no windows in the back of the vehicle, so there was no way of knowing where they were. From the front, they looked to be in a weaving forest trail. 

Then there were huge cement walls in front of them. 

Samuel pulled in the front gate. 

The man at the gate didn’t look up from his computer. “You’re not authorized to be here.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t recognize your vehicle, so I know you don’t have clearance.” 

Samuel sat up a little straighter, glaring at the soldier at the gate. “How about you scan my badge first, and then tell me if I have clearance, Lieutenant.” 

The soldier gave a little shrug and reached out for the badge, his eyes widening as he caught a glance at the four stars on the man’s shoulder. “Oh.” 

“Problem?”

“No, sir. I just…I don’t need to scan your badge, you can go in.” 

“Thank you. At ease soldier.” 

Toby held back a snicker.

“And, let Colonel Kubritz know she has company.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“As you were.” 

The gate rolled open, and they pulled through. 

It seemed like Samuel’s message was received pretty quickly, because the woman that had taken Jim was waiting for them, flanked by soldiers with strange weapons. 

“Stay in the car.” He told everyone, before getting out. 

“I was not aware of any sort of inspection. You are not my commanding general, and therefore not welcome here. This facility holds highly dangerous equipment and confidential projects.”

“Stand down, Colonel. I am here on behalf of general Adele. I’m here to recover Jim Lake Jr. General Adele will be speaking to you about your discharge.” 

“What are you talking about?” She demanded. 

“You kidnapped a teenage boy from a hospital. Surely you didn’t think that wouldn’t go unnoticed? I have video evidence of you leaving the hospital with him.” 

“He’s not a normal boy—“ 

“I’d say so! His whole town is hailing him as a hero for saving them from an invasion! I thought this facility was for research on protecting Earth from invaders. And you’re punishing a boy for saving a town?” 

“He also destroyed it. Don’t give into their little campaign. Jim Lake Jr. may have done something good once, but that doesn’t stop him from being a monster.” 

“I was just in Arcadia, Colonel. There is no damage. There’s no lawsuits against Jim Lake Jr. There’s not even any pending arrests.” 

“I have video evidence of his destruction!” She barked. 

“Then let the local police handle it.” 

She growled, then commanded her men to stand down. “Fine. But if he does this again, no one will stop me from taking him.” 

“Actually,” he clarified with a smirk. “You’re being discharged. So you won’t have any means to take him again.” 

Her mouth opened in shock, as she fought to find an argument. 

But he was a general, he was above her. 

“Now, Jim Lake Jr.?” 

She grumbled something and started off towards a big central building.

Samuel was quick to beckon the others out of the car to follow him, and headed towards the same building as Kubritz. 

When Barbara reached them, she spoke, “you didn’t hurt my son, did you?” 

Kubritz didn’t even look at her. “I don’t have to share information with civilians.” 

Claire clenched her fists in anger, a black haze coming over her hands. 

But Toby simply patted her on the back to ground her. 

Colonel Kubritz led them through the research facility, ignoring their questions. 

They reached the room Jim was being held in, and she entered her code to open the door. 

Of course, Jim wasn’t the only thing in the room, being surrounded by specimens of all sorts of living creatures, but he was right in the center, with a spot light right on him. 

“Jim!” Claire shouted first as she ran to him. 

The poor boy was naked, lying on his back and strapped to the table with thick iron bonds. His wound from Morgana wasn’t the worst on him anymore, as he was covered in blackened burned spots. The spot that had the amulet was now just a hole in his chest, that went right down to the ribs. Claire could see his heart beating, and his lungs moving, thank god. 

“Jim...” she cried, seeing the carnage. 

“What did you do to him?!” Toby shouted at the Colonel, but she didn’t respond. 

“Honey? Jim? Can you hear me?” Barbara asked, as she assessed the damage. 

His eyes opened ever so slightly. “Mom? Is that you? Are you...really here?” 

“Yeah kiddo,” she wiped some tears from her eyes. “It’s me, I’m here. Toby, Claire, and Walt are here too. We’re going to take you home.” 

His smile was just a hint, and he stated, “I’m tired.” 

“I’m sure you are. We’re going to get you fixed up!” She turned to the Colonel. “Get me a gurney or a wheelchair!” 

She scoffed. “I don’t take orders from civilians.” 

Samuel interceded. “Then get me a soldier who isn’t completely incompetent! If you’re going to continue to endanger the life of this young man, then I suggest you get out of my sight before I endanger yours.” 

The Colonel didn’t waver, though a tremor went down her spine. “Lieutenant!” She called. 

A man hurried into the room, standing at attention.

Kubritz just gave a roll of the eyes. “Follow whatever order the general gives you.” 

“But—“ 

“No, I’m done.” With one last glare to Samuel, she added, “I'll be sending my evidence to General Adele, then we’ll see who’s the one putting the nation in danger.” 

“Go ahead, I’ve already given my report.”

She growled at him, turned and left without another word. 

The lieutenant just stood at attention in front of Samuel instead. “Orders sir?”

“Get someone to fetch the gurney from the back of our van, and send for the medic! And get someone to get these shackles off this kid!” 

“Sir yes sir!” 

Meanwhile, Claire stood right by Jim’s side, holding his hand, brushing the bangs away from his face and combing his hair with her fingers. He had a pretty strong fever. 

“You’re going to be alright Jim. We’re going to take good care of you.” 

“I’m…cold…” He breathed. 

Barbara found some vinyl gloves nearby and got to work examining her boy. “I don’t know about the Troll half, but this tissue looks alright. I don’t see any infection yet, or any tissue death. Of course, we need to get this covered immediately.” 

“Where’s the amulet?” Asked Walt. “That’s what’s missing.” 

“The amulet!” Barbara addressed Samuel. “His amulet, we have to find it!” 

He nodded, “we can’t let these psychos have it. They have no idea what magic it possesses, even without being the chosen wielder.” 

Only a beat passed before the army medic came with the gurney, and another soldier came with a crowbar to undo the shackles. 

“Lieutenant, we’re looking for an amulet that came with Jim. It’s what’s missing from his chest.” 

The Lieutenant blanched. “I don’t know anything about it…I can ask the Colonel?”

“She won’t tell.” 

The shackles fell free from Jim’s limbs, but he didn’t seem to register it. 

“Alright,” said Barbara, “Let’s move him onto the gurney. We can worry about the amulet later.” It took everyone to lift him and carefully slide him over. Then, he was covered up to his stomach with a blanket. 

“You’re going home, Jim. Mi amor, you’re safe now.” Claire whispered, kissing his forehead. 

“Hmm…” Jim weakly groaned. “…for the…glory…” But before he could finish, he fell back into sleep.

[bnha-ra]

Lily of the Valley ||BNHA

A/N: HELLO LOVIES! IT’S YA GIRL, SKINNY PENIS- THE AUTHOR! If you guys are veterans of this account you know that this blog was birthed because I had a reader story on Quotev and guess what? IT’S GETTING A FUCKING COMEBACK! A REPRISE because I hated my writing on the original, oop not only a name change, but the lore has also (slightly) changed! So, I hope you enjoy!

Themes: Superheros (obviously), superpowers, fighting, romance, etc.

Summary: How it all began and then some

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter! Maybe some tension but that’s about it!

Tags: @prismaroyal​ @undead0relived​

It was the only thing ringing through her head as she curled deeper into herself, her face, earlier bruised and bloody but was now wet with fresh tears, was shoved into her knees and her shaking arms were wrapped weakly around her shaking legs. With each tremble of her already defeated body she seemed to only hug herself tighter, reducing what should have been ear piercing wails into silent sobs, way too spent to even scream about the atrocities she had seen and the things she had lost.

Life...wasn’t fair.

She understood that now. Those little words she had heard adults whisper under their breath with exhaustion or teens cry out in anger. Of course, she understood what the words meant, she was smart enough to realise much more than people bargained for, however, what she didn't understand was the meaning behind the phrase, why people would say it, why people thought it.

Well, until now.

Because they were right, life wasn’t fair.

It was much more crueler than anyone could ever imagine.

The shouting from earlier had stopped. Whoever was outside the hospital room had fallen silent a little bit ago. Either they were whispering now or they had just stopped altogether, it was finally quiet and she could finally suffer in peace, without the screams of adults promoting the painful squeeze of anguish from their choked cries or their weeping.

When the door opened she didn’t look up, no, she stayed in her position in the corner but withheld her crying as the person made it over to her side, sliding down the way to sit themselves next to her and sigh, their hand slowly winding into her hair to give it comforting strokes and tug her head to rest against them.

“Little Wildfire” The child flinched at the name, but raised her head, eyes catching the older man’s who held a incomprehensible grief but understanding sympathy to them “I have a question for you, sweetheart”

She nodded hesitantly.

The man cleared his throat, facing back to the closed door which she followed, finally spotting the other elderly woman who watched, eyes glossed in tears.

“Do you want to come with us-” He gave her a comforting squeeze when the girl sniffed, stuffing her head deeper into his side “-or, do you want to stay here?”

She glanced down at her lap “...will you be upset if I said I want to stay here?”

“No, mia bella bambina” The woman spoke this time, walking into the room and kneeling before her, taking the child’s hand in her own and kissing the skin of her palm “Never”

The lass glanced between the two adults, eyes slowly beginning to gloss over with no found tears as she let out a shaky sob, heart clenching “I don’t want to leave Mamma alone”

The two brought her into a hug, sharing heartbroken tears with the child while they sat on the hospital floor, filled with great grief in that moment. The people outside watched with a similar sadness, heads bowed in despair and chests aching at the scene. It was a painful moment, seeing a family so broken, seeing a child’s perfect life shattered so quickly as though it was glass.

Life really wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, (Name)....”

---

“Yagi!”

(Name) jumped in her spot from the stands, face snapping up to meet the choir teacher’s while the other girls giggled, muttering amongst themselves or sending dirty looks her way. It wasn't her fault that their teacher was still droning on about regionals, to her, it had stopped being relevant when the woman started to, once again, go off about the schools rival; (Name) didn’t care, the others didn’t care so why did the damn teacher still go off about it? 

‘Talk about obsessed’ She thought as she continued, finally getting to the end of her big speech.

“I expect you to be here at the same time next week!” The witch spat, “Dismissed!”

‘Jesus Christ- FINALLY’

The teen practically sprinted towards her belongings, running out of the room despite her teacher’s call and pulled out her phone from her blazer pocket, scrolling through the contacts until a familiar name popped up.

“Izuku!” She screamed into the receiver when he answered, feeling a guilty pang at her volume before quickly shaking it off “I’m so sorry! I had choir practice! Are you home yet? If not, we can go to that new hero cafe that’s opened recently! I’ll pay-”

During her sprint, flowers began to sprout from the ground beneath her due to the excitement rushing through her. She had been waiting for ages to finally take him there, Midoriya Izuku, her Quirkless best friend and the most obsessed fanboy she had the luck of knowing. Childhood friends, you see, glued together by youth and fondness for one another, something that she was thought she was so lucky for.

There was something else there too. A hidden desire, one that festered when she was still young, the obligation to protect him, to keep him from any harm that may have fallen upon him.

Ah, she was getting ahead of herself.

The joyful smile faded from her face, her steps slowing to a halt as she listened to him talk; a familiar feeling of sympathy blooming in her chest when she spoke again, glancing around the street that she had found herself.

“Where are you?....” She nodded when he responded “Okay, I’m nearby. Wait. There. I’ll be there soon and I want you to tell me what happened, no buts”

(Name) didn’t even give him a chance to respond, only ended the call with a tap and once again began her sprint, though, faster than she had before.

---

“....He really said that?”

Midoirya nodded into his knees, glancing over to his best friend from the corner of his eyes and flinching at the sight of anger spreading over her face. (Name) let out a shrill cry, jumping to her feet from the spot next to him and pacing before the other teen, face scrunched up in rage with words spewing out of her mouth faster than he could comprehend, well, almost.

“I can’t believe him! How dare he say that! You can’t say stuff like that to your fans- you have to consider their fucking feelings! I don’t care if he thinks it’s realistic- show some damn decency to people who respect you! The bastard-”

“(Name), it’s okay” Midoriya shrugged his shoulders, standing back to full height with hers and his own bags in his hands “It doesn’t matter, he was right anyway-”

“Don’t you say that, Midoriya!” (Name)’s hand was pointed towards him in warning, “You can be a hero if you try, there are heroes with weak Quirks so why can’t someone with no Quirk be a hero? Huh? HUH?”

“Well-I-”

“I AM HERE”

The voice came suddenly and loudly from behind the girl, the two teens jumping in surprise causing (Name) to twist round, both watching as a blur skidded to a stop before them and posed, revealing just the person that the female had so desperately wanted to exchange a few words with.

“All Might, how-” Midoriya had barely gotten the words out when (Name) spoke, eyes narrowed dangerously with poison dripping from her lips.

“You”

All Might had the gall to look confused “Me?”

“How dare you!” Midoriya screamed when (Name) raced towards the hero, her leg flying to meet his shin with vigor, only to howl in pain when it connected, hand coming to hold her wounded toes before she began to send punches his way instead, not caring in any way that the man was not affected, only watching in slight amusement as she continued her barrage of blows in her rageful state. “My friend deserves to be a hero more than you could ever understand! You bastard! How dare you say he can’t-!”

“Please, calm down, (Name)” The hero laughed, placing his hand against the girl’s head and pushing her back, (Name) still continuing to swing.

Midoriya stood in shocked silence, watching the scene with growing confusion.

‘How could All Might know (Name)’s name!?’

“Calm down? Calm down!? No! You are such an arsehole, Toshi! I expected better from you-”

‘TOSHI!? WHAT!?’

The greenette stuttered, trying to find his words as he continued to watch the scene before him. All Might eventually deflated with a huff, coughing blood into his hand while (Name) continued to shout at him, too clouded by her anger to realise Midoriya was walking up to her until a hand was placed on her shoulder and she spun, her glare vanishing with a gulp at her best friend’s befuddled gaze on her.

“Crap” (Name) muttered.

All Might just laughed.

“I think we owe young Midoriya an explanation, don’t we, (Name)?”

“Is something wrong, (Name)? You seem occupied”

The girl jumped from her spot behind the receptionist's desk, eyes snapping up to meet Dr Nakamura’s before a bright smile grew, though her hand came to scratch the back of her neck in embarrassment from the scare.

“It’s nothing, sir! I’ve just been training a lot harder recently so I’m kinda tired, that’s all”

The older man nodded, his ears twitching in contemplation as he rifled through the chest of draws behind her, no doubt looking for a file.

It wasn’t a complete lie. While the U.A entrance exams were still ten months away, it didn’t mean she could slack off, no, she needed to get in as much training as she could before the trials, both going through physical exercise and mental. U.A was a school that only took the best of the best, just like Shiketsu and if she wanted even a chance at studying to become a great hero at any of the two she needed to up her game, because she was positive that if she wasn’t at her best, she would be beaten with no regarde.

However, that wasn’t what she was thinking about.

Dr Nakamura pulled one of the files, flipping through before turning back to the girl with a sharp toothed smile “Well, I wouldn’t expect less from one of our next future heroes”

(Name)’s face grew hot at the compliment and she laughed, “Thanks, sir”

“No problem, kid” His hand ruffled her locks playfully “Don’t overwork yourself, okay? If you need any breaks from work I’ll be sure to give them to you”

He walked away with a wave, entering into another room to leave her alone with her thoughts once again.

Truth be told, she was thinking back to a few days ago and the secret she had been swore to keep underwraps.

“Wait, so, just correct me if I’m wrong” Midoriya’s face was much calmer than (Name) expected, much much calmer. She honestly anticipated screaming, maybe faint if it were a worse kind of day, which from hearing about it, it sounded like it was, but instead, he was calm, eyes shining with curiosity and confusion.

“Ever since your mother was taken-....was comatosed…and your father….died” (Name) hugged herself at those words, trying to ignore the feeling of grief stabbing at her heart “You haven’t been living with relatives but...heroes…real life heroes?”

She nodded.

“That’s so cool!” (Name) looked at him with surprise plastered all over her face. Midoriya took her expression in a negative way, curling into himself with shame “I mean, you already lived with a pro hero before- b-but you’ve met some of the most powerful heroes in Japan! Counting All Might that means the world! Oh my Gosh, I mean- uh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that-”

(Name)’s voice was meek when she spoke again, eyes shining with unshed tears “I thought you would be upset….”

“H-huh!? Why!?”

“Because I never told you…”

Confusion took over his face once again and he tilted his head to the side, “Why would I be upset over you protecting yourself?”

(Name) choked.

“I don’t mean to interrupt” All Might’s hand landed softly on (Name)’s back, moving in soothing circles as he continued, eyes centered on Midoriya “But young Midoriya, your answer?”

“Oh! Right! Uh…” The greenette glanced between the two, both sending him back encouraging looks in return before he released a breath, expression adopting one of determination.

“I accept your power, All Might!”

The hero smiled “I knew you would”

“Oi, (Last)” For a second time that day, (Name) jumped in her seat, looking up to see two familiar boys staring back at her. “What’s up with you?”

“Oh, Koji, Hitoshi, Hi!” (Name) began to type away at the computer before her, hoping to ignore the questioning stare from Koda and glare from Shinso when the purple haired boy rolled his eyes in exasperation “You guys finally catch those troublemakers running about?”

Shinso presented the box, (Name) standing to glance in from over the desk and smiling at the sight of the mother cat surrounded by her children before she gestured over to a room nearby.

“Ms Hamada came in a little earlier, why don’t you take them to her”

“Was planning to, but first we gotta show you something"

(Name) brows furrowed “What?”

Shinso nudged Koda softly, prompting the boy to set down his own box. His large hands disappeared into it before pulling back out with another small kitten in his hands who mewled softly towards (Name), pawing at the air.

“Guys, you’re not supposed to separate the young!” She chided, reaching out for the animal who was handed to her, (Name) rocking the animal gently in her grasp and staring pointedly at her friend who cowered back “You both should know better!”

“It’s not from the pack” Shinso responded, nodding to the other box “This was left outside and it’s a little….different”

“Different? How so-...” From her hands, a shifting sound caught her ears and she looked down, the kitten in her hands now replaced with an otter pup who cooed at her. 

“...huh”

---

U.A really was a wonder.

(Name) hadn’t really been there a lot, probably a handful of times as she aged, but she hadn’t properly experienced the feeling of excitement passing through the front gate, other examinees walking nearby, no doubt in the same boat as her, glancing around in amazement.

The school were the greatest pro heroes were born and trust her, she had proof of that in the contacts on her phone. She just hoped that all of her hard work during the months would work in her favour, that she would grab her place at this amazing school and she would begin her journey of becoming a great hero.

Just like her mother had been.

(Name) shook her head, hurrying her pace to the front steps of the school. The recommended students took their exams a month before the actual exam, she believed? Meaning she was alone, no Midoriya by her side to push her forward, to reassure her she was set. Although it was the same for him, if she did pass this exam of course, he would be alone too-

‘Ugh, get a hold on yourself-’ 

(Name) let out a yelp when she ran into someone’s back, apologies dropping from her mouth while the person turned, staring down at her.

He was a huge, mountain of a man with dark buzz cut hair and beady black eyes that seemed to glare straight back into her soul with a unyielding fire that made her gulp nervously and take a step back, her animal instincts clawing to kick in, screaming at her that she was no match for this predator, that she should run while she still could. Then he straightened up, his head flying downward until it smashed against the pavement, body bent over in a bow and practically screaming, gaining the attention of the other examinees.

“I’m so extremely sorry for getting in your way! I promise it won't happen again!”

“Hey, hey!” (Name) cried, hands flying up in a panic “You don’t need to apologise I bumped into you! I’m really sorry about that”

The boy snapped back up, his grin broad on his face and blood running from the small cut on his forehead.

“Oh, hey, you’re bleeding!” Without another though (Name) pulled out a packet of tissues she kept within her jacket, leaping up to tend to the wound, using the air to keep her stable just barely. She really needed more training on that. “Here you go, you should be more careful”

“Woah that’s amazing you’re floating! What’s your Quirk?! Is it like mine!?”

(Name) couldn’t help the laugh she let out “I don’t even know your Quirk, friend”

The boy beamed “It’s called Whirlwind! I can control wind currents and manipulate them however I want! Now you!”

(Name) dropped back down, hands landing on her hips with a smile “Well, my Quirk is called Nat-”

Remember, (Name), keep a low profile. No one can know who you really are, that means no using Nature outside of training.

“-I mean, Element! meaning I can control any kind of elements around me! So, kinda similar to yours”

“Wow, that’s so cool! I’m Yoarashi Inasa!” Yoarashi lent out his hand for her to take, which she did.

“Nice to meet you, Yoarashi, I’m Yagi (Name)”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yagi!”

“Please, call me (Name)!”

“Okay, (Name)! Call me Inasa!”

Seems like this exam won’t seem so bad afterall.

---

It was better than imagined. Yoarashi was a ball of sunshine, standing tall and bright, encouraging those around him despite knowing absolutely nothing of who they were. It was nice, especially due to the fact she didn’t have a lot of friends, having someone by her side inspire her to do better than she thought she could do. He believed her even though he didn’t know who she really was, he thought she was strong only after about an hour of knowing each other and it was...nice.

She really hoped he got the spot here, he deserved it.

The written exam had been an hour and fifteen minutes, all decent material and she was positive that she had passed it with flying colours and now it was time for the physical part of the test, then finally, the interview.

Present Mic’s booming voice was actually soothing to her, probably because of the time he spent after the atta- accident, helping to pull her out of the dark she had buried herself in. The hero was a rock in her life for a long time and she admired him for just as long. He sent her an encouraging wink at the beginning of it all, throwing an extra thumbs up her way before it had all started and she was grateful for it. It was nice that he was giving her extra support, even if he wasn’t really supposed to at that moment.

“Good luck, Inasa!” The giant smiled, throwing a thanks over his shoulder as he got in position for the race.

A sudden coldness surrounded her and (Name) shivered, blinking in surprise when it suddenly got darker.

“You’re in my way, move”

Now usually, (Name) wasn’t one to talk back, actually, she was kind of scared of talking back to people because who knew what they were capable of! But in that moment, those words had just made her angry, so angry in fact that she turned around to face the culprit of such a rude demand, hand poised in a point motion to jab them in the shoulder “Excuse me? Why don’t you watch your fucking tone....”

They stared back at each other in surprise, both sets of eyes wide with recognition.

“I don’t need your pity! Leave me alone!”

(Name) swallowed the heavy lump that was forming in her throat and blinked back the tears that dared try to blur her vision.

“S-Sorry Sho-...Todoroki” 

Then she walked back to her spot on the sidelines, wiping away the wetness from her face while Todoroki shook off the feelings that plagued him and took his spot in the race.

This was gonna be a long day.

---

Finally, finally, it was time for the interviews. 

Yoarashi had seemed tense after his race, eyes glaring pointedly towards Todoroki as though the smaller teen had stabbed him in the heart and left him for dead. It was kinda odd, especially with her new friend being a pillar of sunshine and greatness, like a giant puppy out to give everyone love, but he had ultimately relaxed when she appeared next to him, stroking his arm gently and asking if he was okay.

“Oh I’m fine!” He had replied, patting her on the head “You’re next right!? Come on, I know you’ll do great!”

(Name) ignored the stare on her back when he led her back to the other participants.

“Please enter”

A breath was released before the door was pushed open, a large office revealing itself to her with a familiar small rodent sitting behind a desk, smiling towards her and gesturing to shut the door. (Name) did, slowly of course, the chattering of other examinees disappearing along with the outside when she walked over, bowing politely in greeting.

“Principal Nedzu, it’s an honour to see you again, it’s been a while”

Nedzu bowed back in return.

“The pleasure is all mine, (Last). Please, take a seat”

(Name) did as she was told, feeling a wave of exhaustion settle over her body at the sinking plush of the cushioned chair. The animal rifled through the many ID forms before landing on the one he needed, her own, and settling it to the top of the pile and smiling kindly towards her.

“Well, Miss (Last)” Nedzu started “Tell me a bit about yourself”

(Name) caught herself before she could say anything, wringing her hands on her lap “I-....what is there to say? You already know a lot about me, Nedzu”

The principal nodded in agreement before leaning forward, smile still as kind as ever “It is true that I know who you really are, what your Quirk is and much about your younger life. However, what I really want to know is why are you here today? What made you take the recommended entrance exam? Why, after what you’ve seen first hand, would you want to experience the life of a hero?”

Trust (Name) to know that curiosity. She still asked herself that everyday. Why, after experiencing such a traumatic tragedy would she still want to become a hero and face something that horrible, that life shattering every single day of her life?

(Last) (Name), why did you want to torture yourself for the rest of life?

“Simple” The girl started, eyes shining with a light that Nedzu had only seen with a few heroes in his lifetime.

 “I don’t want anyone else to suffer like I did”

[holylulusworld]

Loveless – Part 4

Request: I am a 100% Dean girl but sometimes I want to be sad over Sammy. Can you do a request with you and Sam. You are together but he messes up and you catch him with Ruby..... you take it from there. Mostly angst with maybe a little fluff.

I decided they are not a pair…so far. I want to write at least three parts and I want it to be angstier…

Summary: Addicted to demon blood Sam takes one step too far…

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean Winchester

Warnings: angst, virgin reader, age gap, talk about addiction, fluff

Loveless Masterlist

“Do you think we can kill Lilith, Dean? I mean she’s so powerful, and we didn’t find anything in the lore so far. Even Castiel doesn’t have a clue how to kill her.” Slamming another book shut you rub your sore eyes.

“You should rest a bit, Y/N. The last four weeks were long and exhausting. Hunting monsters, Lilith and keeping an eye on Sam took a toll on all of us. Let me check on my brother and you can have a shower and sleep.”

“Dean, you were on ‘Sam duty’ for over a week. You need sleep too, big guy. Let me watch him and you can have a rest this time. I can handle this…” Glancing at Dean you see the uncertainty in those green orbs.

“Y/N, I know you are tired. I’m fit as ever. Let me do this.” Dean is like a big brother to you, family and your best friend for ages so you easily can see through his lie and take his hand in yours, kissing it softly.

“Dean, I know when you lie, okay. You are afraid Sam could hurt me again and I appreciate your worry but…” Opening your jacket you show Dean your gun and a knife. “I’m prepared this time. He can’t use his powers either.”

“Sweetheart, I never doubted you can handle Sammy but…” Sighing Dean shrugs.

“I don’t know if he’s clean or if he just waits for the next opportunity to get high on that shit again. He tasted power and this makes your best intentions anyone else’s nightmare.”

“Power…”

“It was the same with me, Y/N. In hell, the moment I gave in and could give pain instead of receiving it, I felt powerful. Like a god and to my shame I must admit, I liked it to a certain point.”

Ashamed Dean looks at his hands and you wrap your arm around his neck, holding him tightly.

“Dean, you are the best man I know. No one else would’ve resisted that long. I never…I…” Sniffling you peck his cheek.

“You are stronger than anyone, Dean. I’m proud to call you my friend. You did what you had to do. All souls in hell are there due to a deal or as they were evil…”

“You sure about that? I mean we met people who sold their souls to save someone, just like me. Not all people making a deal wanted money or fame. Some were good people, desperately trying to find a way to rescue a loved one.”

Dean's words make you realize how much pain he must’ve hidden over the last months.

“I know you believe you do not deserve a second chance, but you do. I can tell you without a doubt that you are a good man. Whatever you did down there, you did it to survive and come back to us to save me.”

Pecking Dean’s cheek, you smile as he nods, giving you a cracked smile in response.

“You make me sound like a hero or crap.” Laughing Dean nervously slides his fingers through his hair.

“Be careful while watching Sam, Y/N. If he acts odd or is nervous, call me and I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Yes, Sir…”

Saluting you give Dean a wink before you walk toward the room Bobby offered to Sam.

You are still uncomfortable around Sam from time to time, but you hope, or rather pray he will stay clean for Dean and your sake, and the sake of Sam’s soul.

----

“Sam duty for you tonight?” Watching you walk into the room Sam forces a smile on his face. He knows you and Dean keep an eye on him, afraid he could relapse and drink demon blood once again.

“Dean needs some sleep and I suggested to spend some time with you. I thought this would be a good opportunity to tell me why you left all of us behind to run off with a demon making you addicted to her blood.”

Sam nervously chews on his lower lips, not wanting to say anything wrong.

“I thought…I mean…” Getting up Sam gestures wildly with his hands as he tries to explain why he left you and Bobby behind after Dean’s death.

“I needed time on my own. Back then I thought it was for the best to hunt Lilith down, have my revenge and keep you and Bobby out of this nightmare. I didn’t want to lose one of you too.”

Stopping in front of you Sam gently tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling as you shiver at his touch.

“We could’ve helped you, Sam. There was no reason for you to cut us out of your life to meet up with that monster. She threatened me to stay away from you. Whatever she promised, Sam – Ruby lied to you through her teeth…”

There’s still hurting in your voice as you remember the demon on top of the man you love.

“She came for me, Y/N. I didn’t look for her, nor did I want her help. But she saved my life and things happened…” Sam’s voice trembles as he can see the hurting in your eyes.

“No reason to let her…” Shuddering you step away, shaking your head. “You lead this dead and rotten thing touch you, Sam. That’s disgusting for sure.”

Sitting onto the cheap sideboard, long legs stretched out Sam looks at his hands, not able to find the words to explain how he could fall for Ruby. Sam is ashamed, not daring to look at you for what feels like ages.

“I…I was lonely and had the feeling no one would understand what happens to me. Those powers scared me, and I feared I’ll end like the other ‘special' kids. Ruby gave me the feeling it’s not a bad thing I have those powers inside of me. I thought I can make the best of this horrible gift Azazel gave me.”

“You could have talked to me, Sam!” Jumping up you slap your friend’s cheek, glaring at the tall hunter while you pant heavily.

“I never once judged you, Sammy. Even when Dean was afraid you could do the wrong thing I told you that I believe in you. How could you believe I would let you down? Bobby was always on your side too.”

Rubbing your tired eyes, you feel Sam wrap his arms around your smaller frame and you stiffen in his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. For leaving you alone, and for not telling you about my plans. Most of all I’m sorry for hurting you, for causing a rift between us.”

Pressing his lips to your forehead Sam tries to make you see he’s not the man from that night.

“I’ll never hurt you again or lie to you or Dean.”

“Dean didn’t deserve this, Sammy. He sacrificed his life, his soul for you.” Sniffling you hide your face in Sam’s chest.

“All the thing they did to him, Sam. How could you touch her knowing Dean got tortured for centuries in hell by demons? How can you work with a demon after one killed your mom, your dad, and Dean?” Sam’s throat is dry when he tries to answer your questions.

“I don’t know, Y/N. All I can say to defend my behavior is that I wanted to kill the demon murdering my brother and dragging him to hell. Ruby just…she…I don’t know why I let her touch me, let her seduce me to…” Rubbing his hands over your back Sam stops talking.

“Did you like it and is she what you want?” Looking up at Sam you blink the tears away. “I mean her vessel is pretty and all…”

“No one is more beautiful to me than you…” While you lean into Sam’s touch, forgetting the fear and hurting for a moment Ruby watches the scene with a smirk on her lips.

“Game is on, I guess. We just have to wait for the unavoidable to happen and we have the best leverage we can wish for…”

Smirking the demon walks away, knowing Sam will do as she says soon enough…

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld, @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katpatrova17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow , @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13, @thevelvetseries​

Loveless Tags

@delicatefirespyplaid, @takemebillyhargrove, @trumpettay, @ardnassela19, @terrible-terrible-blog, @blablatiti

[benjimirthursby]

"Before and Again." - The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor [SB]

*Revised from Prompt 8 of FFXIV Write “Clamor.”  See end-notes.

"By the reckoning of years on home shores the fleet had been in flight thousands of years.  There were as many years ahead of the fleet before reaching the intended galaxy.  From the beginning, if there is such a thing, it was resolved not to compromise the mission in vain hope of finding a way to shorten or speed the journey.  Few temptations to break faith with their mandate were greater than that in Arda 922." 

- Tinifalas Thursby, "Seven Stars in the Horizon."

The jaunt to the Company Hall was a different process than that to Limsa the day before.  Aubreen provided Benjimir with a tiny crystal which he palmed before she departed ahead of him.  As instructed, he gripped the crystal and internally focused his thoughts on where it was he wanted to go, void of images as he had not been there.  He augmented his focus with, as his friend instructed, “happy thoughts” and as the memory of the laughter from the previously nights night cap filled his mind, sure as enough he felt himself able to fly.  Again his vision filled with soft light and flares, faded to black and returned.  

Benjimir’s vision resumed from the black interlude with the vivid light of a small, man-sized crystal, then a pathway, which he noticed was blockaded by an assembly of people.  As he felt himself “slide off the bed” to the ground he emerged into the clamor of the mass of people clapping and making assorted cat calls.  The culprits for the welcoming committee were Bondermir and Aubree who gestured to the crowd which Benjimir took stock of.  Captains Riehnheart, Hayes, Vaunter, his brother Tinifalas, Osmira Miegs the master of keepers, alchemy and craft as well as assorted officers previously from “up well assignments.  Friends all, if usually through Benjimir’s usual formality.  Never the less he laughed and smiled and approached his friends.  

Captain Hayes kicked off the friendly ribbing.  “Did he heave too?”  she said.  “No I most certainly did not.” Benjimir said in mock indignation.

Hayes passed a few gil to Rienheart. “Did he drink?”  Vaunter asked skeptically.

“No.  He most certainly didn’t.” Aubreen announced, to which most assembled including the commodore began tossing gil at Vaunter.

Benjimir laughed and pointed at his protege, “I expect a cut out of that Captain, after all, it was my sacrifice.”  

Tinifalas cupped a hand over his mouth and cried “Cough, Chocopoo, cough cough.”

Benjimir whipped a finger at his brother, “Your out of the will.  Now lets be about this show to tell of Miegs’ and have a look around this place.”  All filed into the Hall and up the stairs.  Bondermir paused to speak to a ginger headed young woman with a stroller and taking a box from her tipped his head and gave a pouch of gil to her.  

Benjimir asked his brother as they walked up the stairs. “Something I ought to know?” gesturing with his head back down the stairs where the woman was leaving and Bondermir turning to join them.  Tiniffalas looked back and quickly shook his head.  “Oh, no.  That is miss Yvaine, she is a local baker and shop-keep.  She’s just started offering services here by Captain Tessariel’s leave.”

“I see,” Benjimir said.  “What’s she bake?” he asked as he entered the second floor’s open space of tables, a bar and small stage.

“Find out.” Bondermir said, walking around Benjimir’s left side and pressing the small box into his chest.  “Finest to be had courtesy of the White Tree.” he finished with a smile. “Not near my demonstration however.” Miegs said approaching.  “This way sir.”  She led them to the small stage where a long table was setup.  The table had two seemingly identical setups.  The first had a sliver of crystal in a setting.  Behind the setting was a small miners lamp burning brightly.  The light shown through the crystal and cast a glimmer onto a small board which stood between it and another crystal in an identical setting.  This crystal also gleamed and illuminated the other side of this board.

“This is a simplified version of the experiment sir, but it will suffice to demonstrate what we have found.” Miegs said in her usual precise, measured pace.  “Note the second crystal here, “ she pointed to the crystal without a lamp.  “No obvious source of light.”

Benjimir nodded.  It was an experiment most early academy students were taught  in their youngest years.  Gifts were made of sets to replicate it in home quarters for birthdays.  “Photon Dossimir Translocation.” He said.  Miegs nodded affirmatively.  Benjimir smiled.  “I did learn something of it while I was a student of….”

“History.” most all those present said as one.

Benjimir took liberty to glare around himself a moment.  “I feel judged.” he mocked.  “Continue please.”  

Miegs placed another board between the crystal next to the lamp and waved it between the light and setting several times, interrupting the light, then extinguishing the lamp.  The gleam from the first crystal ended with a flicker.  Immediately all eyes were fixed on the second crystal.  Luminous as before.

Miegs continued.  “These shards were taken from the hull of the SNS Aundustar,” she carefully noted it as the Sons of Numenorl Ship which differentiated it from the more recently commissioned Scions Air Ship of the same name. “Each was half a hull length from the other and were lodged by impacts following the fall of Dalamud.”

“Could the second crystal be in resonance with another?” Bondermir asked.  As he did, the second crystal flickered and went dark, mirroring Miegs’ steps moments before.

“No.”  Miegs said plainly.  The first crystal then flared to life again, flashing before taking on a steady gleam.  

“We’ve long been unable to determine the cause of a growing number of discontinuities these past five years.  Chrono sync issues, delayed Dossi coms, inconsistent system and hull fatigues, and so forth.  We think this may pose a partial explanation and suggest new questions.”  Miegs concluded.  

Miegs then moved the lamp from the first crystal and placed it next to the second and relit the flame and waved her hand in front of the flame, duplicating the flicker in the first crystal perfectly.  The light from the first crystal went dark again.

“We are continuing to consult with lore keepers down well and are exploring the full meaning and possible applications.  However we cannot offer any conclusions at this time.”  Miegs then extinguished the lamp once more.  

“We’re going to need more crystals.” Benjimir said quietly.

*******

*Note: I’ve decided to cease posting for FFXIV Write within the timing of the official “entries.”  Work and hypothetical needs becoming very real on Wednesday with a seriously ill family member make the turn-around time untenable.  I will continue participating though, it is always a great exercise that pushes me to sharpen skills and focus.  But I will not be entering posts in competition for a prize.  Since I’m not trying to win something, I’m also going to edit my posts moving forward such as this one since it was a bloody mess looking back.  I can’t include it in my larger work in its original form.  But I’ll leave the first posting up for comparison.

[thethiefslore]

Canon Lore - Meeting Corey

This is mostly under a cut.  It’s not because it’s inappropriate.  It’s because it’s 3300 words long, and I don’t want to clog up your dashes! 

Corey let several long minutes pass.  Nothing but a ticking clock made a steady sound.  He sat back in his chair, watching the women in front of him.  Both had wrinkled clothes, like they had slept in a car last night.  The younger one was a teenager in a solid blue shirt and jeans, her straight, shoulder-length hair framed her face, the brown shade matching her eyes.  She was leaning heavily on one arm of the chair, glancing between him, the door, the desk, and the clock on the office wall.  The second, a woman who he would place over 30 years, had a dark shirt under a leather jacket. She sat back in her own chair, crossing her legs with her arms on the rests. Her own brown hair had small curls in it, which was far more interesting to look at than the kid’s, in his opinion.

Speaking of the kid, she liked to fidget.  She was bouncing her leg first.  Then, she shifted her weight in her seat a few times.  Fingers started to tap.  She looked at the older woman, who hadn't moved much at all.  Then, she shifted her weight some more and brushed the hair out of her face a few times.

She was impatient.  She would get caught that way.

The older one showed more promise.  She'd shifted once to get comfortable and watched him, waiting for him to make the first move here.

These two women had found him somehow.  They wanted in on his real business, a crime ring, not the pawnshop they were sitting in now.  That they made it this far meant that they - or one of them, at least - might actually know what they were doing, and he was willing to bet it wasn't the kid.  She was ready to jump out of her own skin over there, her eyes darting around.  He doubted she ever had a job like this before.

At length, Corey sat forward in his chair and nodded at the teen, ready to break the silence.  He rested his forearms on the desk, leaning on them. "How old are you?"

She gripped the arms of her chair more tightly, her eyes wide.  She glanced at her companion again, begging to be saved.

"It's not a hard question," Corey barked.  "It doesn't need teamwork."  He raised an eyebrow.  "You don't know how old you are?"

The kid looked away with a wince.  "I'm, uh, 19," she finally mumbled, wiping her hands on her jeans.  She turned her focus on the desk.

That was a distinct accent. Corey crossed his legs. "Look at me.  I'm not going to eat you."  Not right then, anyways.  It took a long second, but she looked up at him.  He wanted to laugh.  "Where are you from, again?"

"Texas."  She sat forward and opened her mouth to give details he didn’t ask for.

Corey spoke up, stopping her.  "Lose the accent.  If you sound like a hick, people will remember you."  

The girl closed her mouth with a scowl, but she nodded.  "Yessir."  Then, she corrected herself by slowing down so the words didn't blend together. "Yes, sir."  

The result wasn't perfect, but it was an improvement.  He reached towards the plastic cup on his desk, repurposed to be a pen holder.  It was easier to find a pen here than to dig around his messy desk for it.  Try finding a pen when there were stacks of paper everywhere.  He grabbed a pen and pulled the lid off, sticking it on the back of the pen for safekeeping.  He pulled a blank legal pad towards him now.  "And your name?"  

Her eyes darted to the pen in his hand for a split second before focusing back on his face. "Mari."

Corey raised an eyebrow. "Your full name.  Last name and everything."

Mari continued to look between the paper and his face.  She swallowed, but gave a full answer this time.  "Marian Cochran.  Mari with an 'i,'" she corrected, sitting forward herself as Corey wrote. "Like M-a-r-i."  

Corey stopped writing to stare at her, his pen held down on the 'y' in 'Mary.'  She was that kind of person, huh?

Mari sank back into her seat again.  "Because…because I like the 'i' better…."  The corners of her mouth twitched up for a second, but he could hardly call that a smile.  It trailed away with her words.  "It's more…unique, y’know?"  If she had more to say about it at that point, she kept it to herself.  Either she realized just how stupid she sounded, or she figured out that Corey didn't care.  Her fingers started tapping again.

Corey turned his attention to the older woman.  She uncrossed her legs and sat up straighter, her dark eyes following him.  She was tense, ready to act if something went wrong. Here was the real brain behind these two.  The younger woman was just along for the ride, it seemed.  "And your name is?"  He didn’t need her age.  He was sure she was older than 18.

"Viper."  

Or maybe they were both stupid.  Corey ran his free hand down his face, sighing.  "Fuck sake, your real name."

The woman raised her chin. "You'll get it when you hire me. Not before."

Mari sat up.  "I could've said no?  Why didn't-"

Viper raised a hand, palm towards Mari.  Her words died on her lips.  That was a nifty trick.

Corey's eyebrow lifted as the hand lowered.  "Viper," he said, giving in.  "Are you two a packaged deal?"

Viper and Mari both nodded, though Mari did it with all the enthusiasm of the kid she was.  

"That sucks." Corey capped the pen and sat back in his chair.  “I’m not interested.”

Mari shot up straight in her chair, sucking in a breath before she protested.  "But what about us?  We need a job!"

"I don't care about you."  Corey crossed his arms, grinning.  "Imagine that."

"You didn't even give us a chance!"

"I sure didn't."

Viper had covered her mouth with her hand.  She watched Mari out of the corners of her eyes.  She was wearing a scowl, as far as Corey could tell.  He didn’t know if that was for him or for Mari, who didn’t seem to know when to quit.

 Mari's cheeks started turning red.  "You just asked our names.  That's not how job interviews work."  She started ticking things off on her fingers as she listed them. "You're supposed to ask questions, figure out our skills, learn about our work ethic, then decide."  She raised her hands, almost reaching towards Corey and shaking her head.  "You're not being fair!"  

Corey, meanwhile, started laughing.  "Do you want a handout or something?”

Mari stared at Corey for a long, long second, then slumped back in her chair.  Her hands dropped into her lap loudly.  “No.”

"This isn't a normal interview."  Corey sat forward again, pressing a finger straight down into the desk in front of him.  "This isn't a normal job.  I'm not risking my livelihood on some kid who's gonna run home to Mommy and Daddy when life gets hard."

Mari sank further in her chair, focusing on the desk.  Her eyes glistened, but she stayed quiet at last.

"Is she the only reason you're saying no?"

The snake found her voice. Corey shifted his attention to Viper as she lowered her hand from her face.  "No.  I don't know you, either."

"But you asked if we were a packaged deal," Viper said.  She gestured towards Mari.  "So you wanted one of us.  I'm just guessing it's me."  She lifted one shoulder, then let it drop again.  She didn't have the same accent Mari did.  He was willing to bet she travelled from place to place before. "What if I told you she can pick locks?"

"So can I.  What about it?"  He hadn't carried a key to his filing cabinets or desk for years. Lock picking wasn't impressive.  

Mari looked up again. Her voice was thick, but she wasn’t crying, to her credit.  "I can pick any lock," she said. The poor girl was trying to sell her case.  "It's kind of a hobby."  She swallowed, shifting to sit up in her chair again.  "I can prove it."

Corey sighed.  If it got her out of the conversation, he was willing to hold her to that.  He turned around in his chair and stretched back, reaching for a combination-locked Vaultz box sitting on top of a low filing cabinet.  He picked it up and turned back around, dropping the box on the desk. "There's a few locks in there for testing people.  Knock yourself out."

Mari sat up and reached forward, her mouth opening slightly.  She took hold of the box and fished out her phone, tapping on the screen to turn on the flashlight and shining it into the lock as she turned the numbers on the combination slowly.  

"She's stolen before," Viper said.  She smiled as she watched Mari work out the first number and move onto the second. "Broke into a house."

Corey waved at Mari as the box popped open.  "Forget about her.  Have you been to prison?"

"A few times.” Viper looked at Corey now, raising her chin for a second.  “Assault charges.  Nothing special."

"Anybody can get assault charges."  Corey could just go outside and punch someone random.  Assault charges could mean nothing at all.  It didn’t make someone a criminal.

Viper didn’t miss a beat. "He was lucky it wasn't a murder charge."

Corey laughed.  He'd heard that before.  This woman was just talking tough.  "Let me guess:  you're a highly-trained hitman that used to work for the Russian government or something?"

She gripped the arms of her chair tightly.  "I just have a working gun.  That's all."

"But you only got an assault charge?"  

Viper's jaw tightened this time.  "Like I said, he was lucky.  I was teaching him a lesson, not trying to kill him."

"Can I borrow a pen?"

Mari's question cut into the discussion.  Corey spared her a glance, then had to look more closely for a second.  She had already opened three locks.  They weren't hard; just normal pin-and-tumbler key locks, but they laid on the desk, turned so that it was obvious they were unlocked. Beside them were two bobby pins Mari had pulled from her hair at some point, bent into a makeshift torsion wrench and a pick.  The girl herself was holding a combination lock now, watching him.  

"You're not going to pop it?"  Corey eyed the lock.  It was how most people tried that one.

Mari shook her head. "Don't have a shim."  She passed it to her other hand, looking at it. "So I need a pen.  I can guess the combination if I push up on the shaft and find where the dial catches.”  She stuck a finger through the loop of the shaft and pushed up to demonstrate.  “Then, I can just do math to narrow the combinations down after that.  You take-"

"Your accent is back," Corey interrupted.  He had a feeling that if he didn't, she'd go on for a while.  

Mari winced, relieving the tension she had put on the lock shaft. "Sorry."

Corey grunted, but tore a piece of paper from his pad and slid it towards her.  He set the pen down on it, then turned back to Viper, ignoring Mari's quiet 'thanks.'

"I told you she was good.”  Viper raised her eyebrows, tilting her head towards Mari.

"Picking locks doesn't make a criminal."  Corey laced his fingers together, resting them on the desk.  If he hired everyone who could pick locks, he would have a bunch of officers and federal agents running around in his ranks.  

Viper watched Mari, who turned the combination dial, wrote a number, than turned it again.  The kid’s tongue was sticking out of the side of her mouth and everything.  "She can learn.  She already figured out how to survive in prison."

Corey looked at Mari again. She had the lock in one hand, the pen in the other, and her head cocked as she tried to discreetly listen to them. "Why did you go to prison?"

"Burglary," Mari answered.  The pen went still.  "I wanted a bracelet."

She paid more attention to her surroundings than he expected her to, at least.  "Did your lawyer suck, or-?"

"Got caught in the yard."  Mari's cheeks reddened and she ducked her head.  "He had me plead guilty.  Said it wasn't worth the money my parents would spend on him trying to exonerate me when I'd be charged, anyways."

"Your parents hired your lawyer?  Seriously?"  She came from a family more affluent than most people he hired, if that were true.

"I was 17." She tapped the tip of the pen on the paper repeatedly and tightened her fingers around the lock.

"Do they know you're here?"  Corey raised an eyebrow.

Mari shook her head. She focused on the lock again, scribbling down calculations with far less enthusiasm than before.

"They're back in Texas,” Viper explained, sitting forward in her chair.

"I asked her." Corey didn't even look at Viper.  "What happens when they find you?  Are you going to go home?"

The pen stopped again. Almost, anyways.  It shook as she pressed it into the paper.  She shook her head, not looking up.  "They cut contact in prison."

Corey started laughing. "So you ran away from home to start a life of crime."  It sounded like the most cliché teenager story he had ever heard.  

Mari rubbed her thumb in small circles on her fingers around the pen.  She either found the paper fascinating, or she didn't want him to see her face right then.  Good. He had found a button to push when he needed it.

"Her parents won't come looking."  Viper was trying to save Mari from the conversation again.  She glanced sideways at the teenager.  "They don't care enough."

Mari winced, sinking in on herself.

"That still doesn't make her worth anything," Corey pointed out.  He turned away from Mari.  She seemed to relax at that, the pen starting to write slowly again.  

"I'm going to teach her."  Viper gestured towards Mari, smiling.  "She's a fast learner."

“You’re going to teach her how to steal how?”  Corey furrowed his brow.  If all this Viper was good for was fighting and shooting, how could she teach someone to steal anything?

“I haven’t been caught stealing,” Viper said.  Her mouth twitched.  “Just fighting.  It’s more obvious.”

Mari set the pen down to try a combination on the lock.  After a good deal of spinning, she pulled on the shaft.  Still locked.  She picked up the pen and scratched through something.

"You want me to invest money in the hopes that she'll be good someday?"  Corey watched as she tried another combination.  

"No.  I want you to invest in me.  She's just a bonus you'll get from it someday."

Corey sat back, watching Mari try combination after combination as he thought.  It looked like her math wasn't working as well as she said it would.  He rested his hands on his stomach.  He didn't know either of these women.  Viper looked like she might be worth it, but he couldn't be sure.  Mari was most likely useless.  Even if she wasn't, coming from a life where she had a silver spoon up her ass for years would be a culture shock.  She would probably run back, despite what she and Viper claimed.  

Before she did, though, she might get his people into homes without breaking windows and drawing attention. A key lock wasn't much different from a door lock and a deadbolt.  

The combination lock opened with a metallic pop.  Mari shot Corey a grin, set the lock down, and reached back in the box.  She had worked her way through five locks already, but she still wanted another.  As she dug out a second combination lock, Corey watched her work this time.  She flipped the paper over, scribbling out more math and turning the dial on the lock slowly to get her numbers.  After a few minutes of this, Corey spoke up. "That math you're doing doesn't give you the exact combination?"

Mari looked up for a second, then held up the lock.  "It does give the exact combination."  She shook it a bit.  "It just gives me 80 others I have to try, too."  She lowered the lock, looking at it. "It's easier checking 80 combinations instead of thousands."

Corey nodded as she went back to her math.  Wherever she learned lock picking, she was good at it.  Maybe that translated to safes, too.  It would be nice to have a safe cracker around.  Lord knew he spent hours with a blow torch trying to get into one before.  That was a waste of time.  

Then there was her friend, this Viper woman.  All she claimed was assault charges and owning a gun.  He had plenty of people with those qualifications already. Delia, Serina, Mitch, Anthony, hell, even himself, if he had to.  That didn’t even cover all of them.  The stealing she said she was never caught at sounded like a brag and a half.  He was willing to bet that she hadn’t stolen a day in her life.  If she had, it was probably something pretty easy to get away with.  

What a pity.  He could always use more thieves.  

Though there was an easy way to tell if Viper was lying. If he gave her a contract that was low-risk for him, but not necessarily easy for her, it should be obvious whether or not she could actually steal anything.  Getting a new thief would be a huge boost.

He looked at Viper, then back to Mari, then back at Viper again.  "Do you have a burner phone?"

Viper nodded. "Of course."

"Good." Corey sat forward, getting a second pen from the holder and pulling the cap off.  "Let's hear it."

Viper's eyes narrowed on him.  "Are we hired?"  

Mari stopped messing with the lock, looking up to watch them.  

"Not officially," Corey said.  "But on a trial basis."  He glanced at Mari for a second.  "I'll have to see how good you two really are, first.”  He focused back on Viper.  “I need a way to contact you."

After a long moment, Viper let out a sigh and nodded.  She listed off a phone number that Corey jotted down.  Mari set the combination lock and pen down on the desk as Corey looked up again.  "Don't go far.  I'll find something for you pretty quickly."  

Viper smiled at him for the first time.  She stood up, ending the meeting before Corey could.  "We'll be waiting."

Mari hopped out of her chair, grinning.  “Thank you!” Her voice was a higher pitch now. She clapped her hands together once, then cleared her throat and stood up straighter.  She held a hand out to Corey.  “Thank you, sir.”

Corey glanced at her hand as he stood up.  She dropped it after a long second, taking a step towards Viper and looking at the clock on the wall as she did.  

“Don’t thank me,” Corey said.  He stepped around his desk and past the women to open the door.  She wouldn’t be thanking him if she actually got hired. Nobody ever did.  He pulled the door open, then gestured out into the closed pawn shop.  The sun had set a while ago.  He could be at home right now, watching Wheel of Fortune with his kids.  They loved guessing the puzzles before the contestants did.  The sooner these women left, the better.  He fixed them with a look even as they turned towards him.  “Now get out of my shop.”

[amalthea9]

Leona and Puck- Ian Holm Puck Fanfic- Chapter 1

I decided to post this self-indulgent fic here on Tumblr as well as Deviant art.  Since Sir Ian’s death I have been trying to find ways to process my grief. Writing a mushy romance story for a self insert and Ian’s Puck has helped a lot. So if anyone would like some mind-numbing fluff, here you go. <3

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Chapter 1

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A woman wandered the forest on a night like any other night. She had done so many times, because the forest was her favorite place to be. It was the place she knew the mischievous sprite, Puck, roamed on occasion. 

And as it happened, Puck had been watching her from the trees that night. He loved to scare the ladies of Athens, but this woman was...different. The brown-haired woman seemed to enjoy the dark and quiet of the night. 

But he would still do her a fright if he could. If only to see what she would do.

So as the woman picked lilacs by moonlight, Puck decided to make growling noises within the trees. She was silent, but slow, and her eyes darted from tree to tree in caution, but she would not gasp. To gasp meant to reveal your fear, and that was folly to her. So she continued to pick her flowers, much to Puck's perplexity. He decided to make the roars louder, as that of a lion. The woman knew that there were no lions in the forest, and now she mused to wonder if a sprite played with her. Puck saw her smile, and her boldness made him smile to himself. This woman enjoyed this game. He made the roars closer, and stilll she stirred not. Then, with a wide grin, he came up to her, making himself invisible, and roared as loud as if the beast was before her. The woman was still for a second or two, staring into the dark trees, then giggled softly and smiled to herself. 

"May I ask who plays the part of the lion?" she mused to the darkness. "For he is of excellent skill, and would frighten the stoutest of hearts!"

Puck giggled to himself, and appeared before her in that moment.

The woman was still as she saw the sprite stand before her.

Puck grinned from ear to ear as he proudly stated,

"Twas I who played the lion!"

The sweet woman chuckled and smiled brightly, clapping in delight. 

"You do your station well then!" She exclaimed happily. "So fierce a lion I have not imagined!"

Puck giggled at her praise, but quirked his head in curiosity.

"And yet, you did not run," he replied.

The girl's smile remained as she said.

"Because I knew it was a spirit who did roar at me. And I delighted in the game."

Puck was confused. Why did this woman not shriek and run like the others? Why does she smile?

And so beautifully at that…

"I had a feeling it was you."

Puck's thoughts were interrupted by her soft voice.

"What?" he inquired.

"The mischievous sprite, Robin Goodfellow," the woman continued. 

Puck straightened up, his grin returning to his face. 

"You know me!" He exclaimed happily.

"Of course! For we met once before!" She happily stated.

Puck's head tilted again in curiosity.

"I was a girl then, picking flowers with the other girls of village for the Easter celebrations. I was a part from the others, when I felt the need to look up to the trees.  I saw you there. You appeared from nowhere, and you smiled and waved at me."

"And you waved back!" Puck exclaimed excitedly. "I remember now!"

The woman laughed happily as Puck came closer to her.

"Yes!" She giggled. "I am that young girl you waived to, Leona. And I have hoped against all odds to meet you again!"

Puck giggled happily and clapped.

"And you have! And I have found you again! Now I wonder not at your lack of fright! For hoping it might be me, this playful sprite!"

Leona nodded and giggled once more at Puck's mirth. Despite all her efforts through the years, Leona still found him so handsome and sweet. Her 'faerie prince' as in her youth she called him.

"Will you stay with me here a while?" Puck asked happily, his bright eyes hopeful.

Leona's heart was thrilled that he wanted her to stay for a visit. 

"I would be delighted to, Puck," she replied beaming.

Puck jumped for joy and took Leona by the hand.

"Come!" He exclaimed. "I'll show you all the secret places of the forest! Where the softest of moss grows, where the owl nests are, and how to catch fireflies!"

And off into the forest the two went, hand in hand and giggling with joy. 

That night was spent in the way Puck had promised. Leona learned how to catch fireflies, Puck took her to where the softest of moss grew, and especially where owls nested.  Leona had always loved owls, their nightly songs always soothed her. Puck complained about sometimes being chased by them when he made himself small. Leona laughed at that, and Puck couldn't help but laugh with her.

It was about three in the morning when Leona said she must go.

"I would stay til dawn," she said sadly, "but I need to sleep a little in order to do my daily chores."

Puck knew she was right and nodded with a sigh. 

"Then let me lead you out again," he said, taking her hand.

"Of course, Puck," Leona smiled.

As they neared the edge of the forest, Puck turned to face Leona with a worried expression.

"You will come back tomorrow, won't you?!" He asked worriedly.

"Of course!" Leona giggled in reply. "I shall visit you every night if you wish it!"

Puck squeezed her hand and nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yes! I do wish it!" He gleefully replied, his eyes bright with happiness.

"Then I shall!" Leona replied, beaming.

Leona giggled as Puck twirled around with delight. They said their goodbyes, and just as quickly as he had appeared, Puck was gone.

Leona's heart was so full of happiness as she made her way back to the cottage. She had finally been reunited with her Puck. After many years of hoping to find him again, she could spend her nights with him and her lonely life would no longer be so empty. She would never confess to him that she loved him, but would try to be content with just being able to spend time with him.

The next morning Leona was exhausted,but tried not to show it at the breakfast table with her aunt and uncle. But her aunt, Bridget Flemming, noticed right away. 

"You're tired," she stated bluntly. "Why is that?"

Aunt Bridget wasn't an evil woman by any stretch. She and her husband, William had raised Leona from birth. Her mother died giving birth to her. She was a bastard child, and her mother's sister took her in. 

But Aunt Bridget thought Leona's time in the forest was senseless. She did believe in the fae, but always said no good came from interacting with them. She told Leona many times that because of her going to the forest, she had lost all of her chances of having a good life. 

Leona knew her aunt loved her, but she also knew that her aunt thought she was too 'whimsical' to ever marry. Leona was 34 and still unwedded, so a spinner of yarn she had become.

"Did you not sleep?" Aunt Bridget snapped again. "Off in the forest all night I bet."

"Yes, auntie I was in the forest," Leona confessed. "I stayed too late. But I won't let it get in the way of my chores or spinning I promise."

"It better not!" Aunt Bridget scoffed. "Or else there'll be no eggs for the morning or milk!"

"Leona will keep up with her chores, my love. She's never failed us and you know that."

The kind voice of Uncle William Flemming came through as he ate his breakfast.

Leona smiled at her uncle. He believed in the fae as she did, for he had seen the Queen of Faeries and her escorts one night when he was very young. He believed her when she told the story of Robin Goodfellow, as Puck is often called, waving at her when she was young. It helped to have her uncle understand what her aunt did not. He never judged her for not being married at her age, or that she spent so much time in the forest. 

Bridget sighed and shook her head.

“You’re right, WIlliam,” she confessed. “I’m sorry, Leona. You know how I worry about you.”

Leona nodded as she smiled at her aunt.

“I know auntie.”

Bridget nodded and smiled at her niece as she collected the dishes to wash. “Off with you then, dear. See to the chickens and cow.”

“Yes, auntie,” Leona replied and left the table.

Leona did her chores with a smile on her face. She couldn't stop thinking about Puck. Her heart quickened when she imagined his smile, and how much he enjoyed her company. She felt silly being this enamored of a faerie, for she would never believe her feelings could be returned. She had heard stories of fae like King Oberon or Queen Titania taking mortal lovers, but she didn't think Puck would want her. 

These thoughts were interrupted by the gentle voice of her uncle.

"Did you find him last night?"

Leona turned her head from milking the cow to see Uncle William standing at the stable's doorway. He was all smiles.

"I did," she nodded, smiling.

William entered the barn and came over to Leona. The bearded grey-haired man gestured to trade places as he said, 

"Then you must tell me all about it!"

Leona beamed as she told her uncle all about her night with Puck. Her uncle chuckled in delight as he finished milking the cow.

"I knew you would find Robin Goodfellow again, my dear," Uncle William said as he got to his feet. "And I'm very happy you did!"

"Thank you, Uncle," Leona replied. "You believing I would has been a comfort to me."

William's blue eyes shimmered.

"Of course, my girl! I know what that sprite means to you. And I secretly hope you'll win his heart the way he's won yours."

Uncle William chuckled to see his niece blush at this remark and Leona hit his arm playfully.

The rest of the day went by steadily. Leona had to go to town to deliver some yarn she had spun. 

While in town, she stopped at the village Inn. The innkeeper, Richard, had always been very friendly to her and enjoyable company. The brown-eyed, dark-brown haired man, enjoyed telling Leona stories of all of the travelers that had passed through his inn. And he enjoyed her stories of faeries and lore she had learned over the years. 

Richard's wife had often bought Leona's yarn out of kindness to her, perhaps out of pity. Even so, Richard was happy to see Leona pop in and they talked for a bit. 

When Richard had to go attend to other guests, Leona remained at the bar and enjoyed her ale. As she did so, a group of women entered the inn. They were the women who used to be Leona's play mates as children, but as they all grew up, the less she got along with them. None of them liked the forest, and as the years went by and Leona got older and still not married, they mocked her for it. And that's what they did as soon as they saw her. 

Leona was used to it, and didn't pay them much attention. As the women sat and received their drinks, they continued to mock Leona loudly, and Leona continued to ignore them. Richard was still serving other guests, so Leona was alone.

Suddenly, the leader of the women shrieked and spilled her drink all over herself.

"There was a crab! There was a crab in my drink!!!" The woman shrieked.

Leona couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. Nor could she stifle the laughter as one after the other screamed and spilled their drinks all over themselves. Each of them blamed a crab, but there was none to be found. As Leona and the rest of the inn laughed at the women, she looked to the corner and smiled brightly. Puck grinned cheekily at her, winked, then vanished. 

The evening came, and Leona's heart fluttered as she entered the forest.

And when Puck appeared, she wished she could hug him. But she held back, thinking he might not be comfortable with it.

Instead she smiled happily and asked.

"How did you know I was in the village?"

"I was bored today so I went into the village for some mischief," Puck began with a mischievous grin. "Then I saw you enter the in, so why not follow?"

"Well, thank you very much for what you did," Leona smiled. "It was wonderful."

Puck smiled brightly and bowed with dramatic flair, making Leona giggle.

Then Puck gave her a curious look.

"Do those women tease you often?"

Leona's smile faded as she nodded and looked to the ground.

"It doesn't bother me much anymore," she sighed.

"Well I think it's awful and I shall be pranking each of them more often," Puck stated as he walked up to Leona.

Leona lifted her eyes to meet his and smiled.

"Thank you, Puck," she said softly.

Puck smiled at her happily, and now he noticed how lovely her eyes were. One blue, one green, and for a moment Puck simply admired them.

"Puck?"

Puck blinked as Leona's soft voice brought him back to the present. He smiled at her and asked.

"What shall we do tonight?"

Still wondering why Puck had stared into her eyes for a moment, Leona decided to dismiss it and replied.

"Shall we play a game?" she suggested smiling.

Puck's face lit up as he excitedly replied.

"Oh yes! What game shall we play?"

Leona pretended to think for a moment because making Puck wait for an answer delighted her. He looked so cute bouncing with impatience.

"I'll think of an animal and you turn into it," Leona smiled.

Puck was delighted at this idea.

For several hours the forest was filled with Leona's laughter and applause. Puck would let her pet him and play with whatever animal he was. And sometimes, Puck would ignore her request and become a headless bear. This would delight Leona, though she would feign annoyance. 

After a time, they sat together in the moss and Puck told stories of all his exploits with King Oberon. Leona listened in amazement, for Puck had been around the world and seen so much.

She suddenly felt a sadness come upon her. She wished she could see the world too. She felt plain and somehow insignificant. Puck noticed her smile faded and became concerned.

"What's wrong Leona?"

Puck asked her worriedly.

Leona looked up to Puck and suddenly felt very silly for her thoughts. She shook her head dismissively, an embarrassed smile on her face.

"It is nothing, Puck," she said softly, her gaze falling to the ground.

Puck was hardly convinced of this and crawled over to her, seating himself directly in front of her.

"I do not believe you," he replied with a frown. "Please tell me. I do not like to see you sad."

Leona felt a warmth wash over her. To know Puck already wished her nothing but happiness made her feel so happy.

She smiled a soft smile at him as she met his gaze.

"It is strange, but hearing of all of your adventures has made me feel...so plain. I am mortal, so I cannot do the things you have done, and yet I feel insignificant for that," she said with both sadness and confusion in her voice.

"But you are not plain!" Puck objected.

Leona looked to him in confusion.

"You are the only woman in this village who enjoys my antics! The only one who enjoys the forest and is not afraid to go into it!" 

Puck looked to the ground for a moment and his tone softened.

"I have never found a woman like you, Leona. Yes, there have been women who have laughed due to my pranks and have seen me but…"

Puck paused for a moment and bit his lip. Leona watched him and wondered what was going through his mind. He looked back up at her and stated.

"You are different. You are special."

Leona stared at the sprite for a moment. 

Special? 

Why would Puck find her special? What did he see in her?

"Special.." she whispered, a look of disbelief on her face.

"Yes," Puck whispered in reply. He leaned forward so that his face was inches from hers.

Leona's heart quickened at his action.

"I cannot explain it," the sprite stated, locking his gaze with hers. "But you are."

There was a stillness between them for a moment as they stared at one another. Leona processing what Puck had just said, while Puck tried to convey with his eyes he wasn't lying. Finally, Leona smiled softly at the playful sprite.

"I shall believe you, Puck," she whispered, her heart still fluttering to have him so close to her. "For I know you are an honest sprite."

Puck's smile returned when he heard her words. He resumed being seated not so close to her. He looked then to the moon, and sighed.

"Tis three…" he stated sadly. 

He offered his hand for Leona to take, and she took it with her own sad smile. They walked to the edge of the forest, and this time, Puck kissed Leona's hand. It surprised Leona, but she was happy to receive it. She smiled at him as he released her hand. Puck smiled back and vanished.

The next morning, Leona was still thinking about what Puck had said. That she was special. What did Puck mean? 

She was quiet at the breakfast table, and Uncle William noticed this. 

As she milked the cow, Uncle William came to her.

"Did something happen last night, my dear?" He asked with concern.

Leona tried to smile, but it was clear she was perplexed by something.

"Puck told me I was special," she said softly as she milked the cow. "And I am not sure why he said such a thing."

Uncle William came over to her, pulling up a stool to sit beside her.

"Well," he began. "He isn't wrong in that. I always felt the same."

Leona stopped milking the cow and looked to him with a confused expression. 

Uncle William smiled at her softly.

"Even as a little girl, you have delighted in everything of nature. You would see the fireflies dance at night, and squeal in glee. And when you learned to talk, you called them faeries. You've always looked to the trees with a gaze of wonder and adoration. As though you belonged in the forest…"

Uncle's smile faded a little then, and his eyes became sad. He appeared to be remembering something, but didn't want to say what.

"Uncle?" Leona asked softly, her expression one of concern.

Uncle shook his head dismissively and his smile returned.

"All I meant to say was that Puck sees you in the way you should be seen. As someone unique."

His smile returned as he leaned down to kiss her head gently. Leona smiled as he did this and arose with the bucket of milk in hand. 

Uncle returned to the cottage, as Aunt Bridget was peeling potatoes. She looked up to see his expression of concern.

"What is it, William?" she asked him.

William took a seat at the table, his eyes looking ahead.

"Leona found Puck a few nights ago," he stated.

Bridget's eyes went wide.

"What?! Why didn't you tell me?! She can't keep seeing him!!" Bridget exclaimed angrily.

"Do you truly think we can stop her, Bridget?" William asked softly, meeting her eyes.

Bridget looked to the ground, a sad expression coming to her features. 

"No…" she whispered. "I wish she had told me though."

"She knew it would upset you, my dear," William replied, a sad smile on his face.

"Apparently, Puck told her she was special last night and it perplexes her."

Bridget leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh.

"Of course he would…" she muttered.

William leaned forward to take his wife's hand and squeezed it.

"Bridget, we couldn't keep this at bay her whole life," he said softly. "She will always be drawn to the forest...and to him. Puck sees what she truly is. I would rather her have someone who cares for her as she is than for her to be alone forever."

Bridget's eyes became misty with tears as she nodded and squeezed his hand in reply.

"And eventually...we will have to tell her everything," William said with a heaviness in his voice.

"I know…" Bridget whispered. 

The evening came, and Leona had expected Puck to appear as soon as she entered the trees. But he was nowhere to be seen. She called for him gently a few times, but still he did not appear.

Leona didn't panic however, she assumed Puck was running an errand for King Oberon. She was disappointed, but knew that Puck would come if he could. 

So she decided to pick flowers while she sang softly. It was a song she had heard at the inn once and it had always been her favorite love song.

"Come white moss, weave us a carpet

Spreading oak make a shade where we lie.

Leaves and branches, whisper a love song,

When I look in my true love's eyes.

Young as any spring, his eyes almost sing to me.

Come down sparrow, sing me good morning.

Rise up sun like the arch of the sky.

Living river, turn light to diamonds

When I look in my true love's eyes.

Like a child feels watching a rainbow.

Like a bird feels the first time it flies.

I feel magic stirring within me,

When I look in my true love's eyes.

Young as any spring, his eyes almost sing.

Come down sparrow, sing me good morning.

Rise up sun like the arch of the sky.

Living river, turn light to diamonds

When I look in my true love's eyes.

Like a child feels watching a rainbow.

Like a bird feels the first time it flies.

I feel magic stirring within me,

When I look in my true love's eyes.

Young as any spring, his eyes almost sing."

Her voice was soft and melodic, and it carried through the forest like a gentle breeze.

When Puck returned to the forest, he heard the lovely voice, and searched for the source. 

When he saw it was Leona's voice, he didn't want to approach her, not just yet. He wanted to listen a little longer. He kept himself invisible as he sat on a branch, and let her sweet song serenate him. After a time, he was smiling to himself as he listened. 

There was something ethereal about her voice, though he couldn't explain it. 

After a few more moments, he decided to finally appear to her.

Leona was still singing as she made a wreath of the flowers she picked. She was startled at his sudden appearance but quickly smiled at him.

"There you are!" she said cheerfully.

"Please do not stop," Puck pleaded softly.

"Do not stop what?" Leona asked curiously.

"You sing beautifully…" Puck replied, seating himself in front of her. "Please sing again."

Leona felt her cheeks grow warm as she looked to the ground and shook her head. 

"You are being far too kind," Leona replied quietly.

"You do!" Puck protested, almost sounding angry.

Leona met his eyes now, surprised by his reaction.

"Please Leona," Puck pleaded softly.

Leona could not deny him, not when he looked grieved that she had stopped.

"As you wish," she replied with a nod and a smile.

Puck beamed and his eyes sparkled in delight. He rested his chin in his hands, like a child ready for a story, and it made Leona giggle. 

"Would you like another song?" Leona asked.

"I want the one you were singing!" He replied happily. "I like it!"

Leona smiled softly at him, if he only knew it was he she thought of when she sang it.

So she continued to sing, working on the wreath as she did.

Leona sang Puck many songs, and he even brought her more flowers to weave.

After a time, Leona had to stop, for the stack of wreaths was becoming rather large. 

The rest of their time together that night was playing hide-and-seek, and Puck promised not to cheat. Although he could sense Leona's presence when she was close, he let her hide for a bit before finding her. Leona knew this too, and it warmed her heart that Puck would play along with her.

When the time for Leona to leave came, Puck walked with her, hand in hand to the forest edge. It had become their parting ritual, and Leona cherished every moment her hand was in Puck's.

"Will you sing more tomorrow night?" Puck asked hopefully as he released her hand. 

Leona chuckled.

"If you would wish it," she replied with a nod.

"I would have you sing every night!" Puck declared happily.

Leona smiled at him with endearment.

"You sweet sprite…" she whispered. "Then I shall."

Puck bounced in place excitedly. 

And with that, he bid her goodnight, kissing her hand again. 

As Leona walked back to the cottage, her heart swelled with happiness the more she thought of how much Puck loved her singing. 

With these thoughts in her head she let sleep take her.

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

[writings-in-ebony]

Heritage - Chapter 2 Steve Rogers/Black!reader

Summary: The annual Gathering is approaching causing all Irish wolves to come and celebrate their history together during a five-day week filled with feasts, games, entertainment, and storytelling. However, The Hunt is also during this time and Steve is volun-told to participate in this Coming-of-Age ceremony by none other than his grandfather. To have a successful hunt, one must possess all the attributes of a wolf to succeed, but Steve doesn’t have that. How can he successfully complete the challenge (and not die) when he can barely make it down the stairs without collapsing into an asthmatic fit?

Author’s note: Hello everyone! Sorry for the late submission, but life outside has a way of killing the writing muse and distracting me. I struggled through the beginnings of his chapter, but as you can tell, steam was picked up as my excitement grew. I would also like to point out that I tried to do extensive research on wolf mythology in Irish culture. If it is not accurate, please let me know and I’ll promptly correct it. I like to be as concise as possible with my works. As always, likes and reblogs are well received and I love comments and asks! Thanks again, everyone!

P.S. I’m sorry the reader has not shown up yet! It’s such a slow burn but I want to build the story up!

Word Count: 3341

Warnings: Bad language and a singular event of physical abuse

Chapter 2: The Hunt Part I

Cashel watched on as the contractors he hired lifted a wooden beam that would eventually be part of an intricate large tent. The tent will house three long wooden tables and benches, all made from the wood of the ash trees that grew in his homeland. They didn’t take long to import and the wood maker he had hired was a family friend. The man has been making crafts for them for well over twenty years and there was just something special about his work that caused them to keep requesting. With the tables that Cashel needed for this event, he specially carved the family’s crest into the top of the table and poured resin into the gaps to smooth it back out. It was beautiful and each tabletop was glossed and stained to bring out the rustic coloring. Marvelous, he had praised when he first saw them released from the shipping box.

One of the workers was drilling in the beam when his assistant, a relatively young wolf by the name of Finnian, approached him with his notebook in hand. The lad was lean, average height, and had a soft face that didn’t match his stern, cold eyes. Cashel had recruited him during the latter parts of the fifties, and he has been pleased with his work ever since. Finnian was prompt, organized, and quick on his feet whenever things went south. Cashel had also noted the young man had a dark streak to him, which complemented his unwavering loyalty to the family and his boss.

Finnian, who was already opening his notebook before he reached Cashel, was looking to finalize plans, receive a few confirmations, and update Cashel on all the arrangements and changes that are taking place. “Sir, I need to update you on a few things,” he had begun, formal and professional about everything.

“Firstly, I confirmed the menu with the chef, and he has already begun making preparations for the dinner. The baker has delivered the cakes and pies. However, she tried to skimp on one, but she was able to dock off some of the cost after some nudging. The contactors are, as you know, in the middle of their building and they will be done well in advance.” Cashel nodded, pleased with the news. But he didn’t say anything because he knew Finnian wasn’t done.

“Now, as for the Coming of Age ceremony, I have made sure that there are roadblocks and barriers put in place to prevent any…unnecessary leavings of the property. There are also barrier markers in the woods at the edge of the land. And some of the men have volunteered to stand watch and prevent anyone from entering and leaving without permission. As for the ceremony, I have three boy’s names down: Matt, Sean, and Miguel.”

“Steve,” Cashel provided. Finnian’s eyes widened and he paused at Cashel’s sudden addition. Without looking at the lad’s face, Cashel continued. “Add Steve’s name. He shall be participating in the Coming of Age ceremony, too. And make sure he and his mother are notified.”

“But sir, Steve…” he trailed off, wondering if it was his place to ask the question.

“I understand. Steve is lacking the physical qualities that are preferred to participate in The Hunt, but I believe he can still participate with what he has. The boy is smart, and a fighter. I know he is the runt to everyone else, but there is something under that weak exterior that is trying to fight its way out. And I want to be there when it does.” Cashel’s words didn’t ease Finnian in the slightest. In fact, they worried him and confused him. The boy was going to die, Finnian thought as he wrote down his name under the list of participants.

 ~~

“He wants me to do what?!” Steve screamed, face red and blotchy as he looked into Bucky’s worried eyes. “I-I can’t do the Coming of Age ceremony! I-I’m not, I c-can’t even run to the bathroom without having an asthma attack and increasing my risk of heart failure! And now the old coot wants me to compete against my strong ass cousins in an effort to show off what, my ability to die at the slightest breeze?!” He was breathing very heavily, almost wheezing, and Bucky reached into his pocket for the back-up inhaler.

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Bucky softly answered, but the responding glare aimed back at him told him that wasn’t the best approach. “Okay, listen, you’ll be given the tools you need to complete the challenge okay? And guess what, knowing you, you’ll do great!”

Steve flopped down on the bed, shrinking into himself and putting his face into his hands. “I knew my grandfather was trying to kill me. I bet he’s like, ‘Oh ho ho, let’s put him in the ceremony. That way he can die without it being on anyone’s conscious.’ Acting like I’m not the fucking runt.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, I know that’s not your voice I hear dishing out that horrible language,” came his mother’s stern voice. Steve jumped in surprise and watched his mother enter the room, a garment bag dangling over her arm.

“Sorry mam,” he grumbled. Bucky stood to the side and watched as Mrs. Rogers went to the bed and laid the garment bag down.

“Apology accepted,” she smirked, unzipping the front and exposing about five outfits for Steve. Her son let out an irritated groan and she quickly shut him up. “No, none of that. You know this is an important event and you need to look the part. Especially given you’re now in the ceremony!” She looked excited, but Bucky could smell the presence of nervousness and fear. She felt the same hesitations as Steve, but she couldn’t voice them unless she wanted to discourage her son. Even so, the matter was out of her hands.

“Now, c’mon and try on these outfits. I want my son to look good for the ladies this weekend!”

 ~~

The Hunt was only a small celebration within a larger one called The Gathering. The Gathering was the annual meeting of Irish wolves to celebrate their origin, survival, and thriving heritage. It has been held for centuries, usually somewhere within Ireland, but after the Gathering of 42’, it was decided that it should be held within America. It was a safety and security issue, and Cashel had taken up the mantle of hosting the event at his mountain estate every year.

The Gathering consisted of five days of events and various festivities. The first day was dedicated to the history of Irish wolves and everything involving the lore and stories behind their origins. A huge bonfire will be erected, and everyone will gather around to listen to the elders' recount old tales, both scary and mesmerizing. Steve always loved the tales, even if he’s heard them every year. They were so inspiring and made him proud to be part of a family with so much history. They told tales of the Laignach Faelad, a tribe of wolf-men who followed under the cruel rule of Crom Cruach and demanded payment in the form of newborn babies. Or the fight between Morrigan and Cúchulainn and how the goddess shifted into a giant wolf and caused destruction in her path. The stories were also exaggerated to make them more outlandish, but they were always entertaining, and everyone listened attentively every year as if they were brand new.

The second day would be dedicated to various games, tournaments, and music. It was an all-day party that ended in a giant feast and all the alcohol anyone could dream of. There wasn’t much Steve could do on this day since it mostly required you have the strength and skills of a wolf, so he usually just cheered his cousins on as he stood off to the side.

The third was a day of rest. A day where everyone tried to get over their hangovers and compose themselves before the big ceremony. A simple dinner was held, and it was usually a peaceful affair. There might be some rowdy individuals, but most just ate their dinner and either talked about the previous day or the one to come.

The fourth day was the big ceremony: The Coming-of-Age ceremony. This is where the chosen youth come forward and participate in a challenge and upon successful completion, they will fully be recognized as adults. It was a very important event amongst the family and every young wolf must participate if they want to be accepted and respected. The ceremony started with another big feast. The participants are sat in the middle of the table and given a hearty helping of food to increase their energy. Once that is done, the elders will announce each of them and give a speech on what it means to be an Irish wolf. And then, begins The Hunt.

 ~~

Steve was brought out of his thoughts when he realized his name was being called repeatedly. He gazed up from the book in his hand (he wasn’t actively reading it anyway) and saw his father standing in the doorway. His face was a mix between nervousness and irritation, probably because he has been calling his son’s name numerous times. “Yeah?” Steve asked, curious as to why his father was here. He never came to Steve’s room. It was like a silent agreement between the two. They stayed out of each other’s way and never had to deal with each other. But here they were, staring at each other as Joseph leaned against the frame of Steve’s bedroom door, looking at Steve with a weird smirk on his face.

“I just wanted to see how my son was doing,” Joseph chuckled. Steve’s frown deepened. This was highly unusual. Joseph saw the open expression of confusion cross his son’s face and his own smirk faltered. “What, I can’t see how you are doing?”

“You never come here,” Steve shot back. Was there something he did wrong? Did his father want something from him?

Realizing that Steve was not buying the fact his father became suddenly attentive and caring, Joseph eased off the doorframe and entered the room. “I heard you are participating in The Hunt.”

“Yeah, granddad volunteered me. Apparently, he has this notion that I’d be a great candidate for it, and I need to have the “experience”,” he raised his hands and did an air-quote on the word “experience.”

Joseph shifted his feet and chuckled, “Yeah, that’s your grandfather for you. Always making decisions for himself without considering others. But you know you can opt-out of it right?” Steve closed his book, narrowing his eyes at his father.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, son, let’s be real. If you go out there, you’re going to die, and it won’t be pretty either. Your mother is already worried sick about you going into this thing without a lick of strength and skills to guide you. So, yeah, you can save yourself by opting out. It won’t hurt anyone’s feelings and I’ll make sure your grandfather knows. Okay?” He actually had the audacity to aim a smile at Steve, like he didn’t just propose that he become the ultimate coward in front of his family.

“No one has ever backed out of The Hunt before,” Steve sneered.

“I know, I know, but listen. It won’t be that problematic. I’ll talk to the elders; your granddad and I’ll make sure you catch no slack from it. Everyone will understand why you want to opt-out.”

“So, you want me to…to become a damn coward?! To become the only person in the entire Rogers family, no scratch that. In the entire history of Irish wolves, to not participate in The Hunt? Really? You really think I want that on my name along with the fact I’m a literal runt?!” His voice raised at his father because he couldn’t believe his father would try to talk him out of something so important. Now, don’t get him wrong, Steve didn’t want to participate in the ceremony to begin with, but he’d have to at some point. So, he wanted to go ahead and get it out the way, hoping that luck was on his side and he wouldn’t die in the process. But he didn’t think his father’s hatred for him was deep enough to talk Steve out of finally being seen as something more than a stain on the family. No, Joseph didn’t want to be seen as the man who had an embarrassment for a son. He’d rather his son live his life silently as a runt than go out and get himself humiliated and killed during such an important event. It would only solidify the fact that he might not be a great heir to inherit the Rogers throne. He’d be the man who carried the weakest genes.

“I didn’t come here to start a fight, Steve. I’m only trying to protect you,” he began but was immediately cut off.

“You came here to protect your image. Not once have you shown any concern for me. No, you only care about what I’d make you look like if I participated in The Hunt. Well, sorry, Dad, I’m going to be in The Hunt and if I die, so be it.”

Joseph’s eyes flared a bright, blinding blue, his anger clear across his face. “You are a selfish child! And I don’t need you to solidify my place as a family heir anyway because your grandfather has already made it known that he will announce an heir to the family this weekend. And since your uncles have no knowledge of any of the business that goes on with the family, guess who is left to lead? ME.”

“Oh great! An ego booster that you don’t need.”

“I will not be disrespected by some child who can’t even breathe straight half the time. Especially one who is willing to put their mother through the pain of losing a child!”

“Is it comparable to the pain you put her through when you fuck around with other women?” The slap didn’t register to Steve until his face was already turned towards the other wall. The sting of his cheek followed soon after and he could already feel it swelling. When he turned his head back forwards, he saw his father standing over him, eyes blazing with sweltering anger. His hand was still raised, and his breathing was coming out more raggedly as if he had just run a mile. Steve glared right back at him, hoping his face was showing the same level of hatred.

“Sir, Mr. Cashel has requested you to be at his mansion as soon as possible. He’s looking to speak with you on some of the plans for the weekend,” Bucky piped in, face stoic and composed. Joseph, hearing the man’s voice, jumped back from Steve and straightened himself out.

“Ah, yes. I’ll be there shortly,” and with that, he hurried from the room. Bucky watched the man leave, waiting until he was around a corner before entering Steve’s room and shutting the door. He quickly went to the bathroom and prepared a warm towelette covered in water and rubbing alcohol. Steve silently took it and placed it on his cheek.

They sat in silence for a good minute, listening to the sounds of cars as they passed by the front of the house. “How much did you hear?” Steve eventually asked, eyes aimed at the window.

“Enough,” Bucky supplied, sounding grim.

“Do you think I’m in the wrong?” Steve turned to look this time. Bucky’s face softened and his head slowly shook from side to side.

“No…You have every right to do it,” Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, aiming a small smile at Steve. “Plus, you have that determined look. Even if I tell you no, you’ll still do it anyway.”

“You’re damn right,” Steve grumbled. “I’ll show them all I can do it. Even if it does kill me.”

 ~~

Things with Joseph did not get resolved by the time the weekend started. Sarah, who was ignorant of the exact reason why her boys were acting strange, tried to ease the tension with conversation and excited talk about the events to come. But it did nothing but make the long drive up to the mountains more awkward. She had given up three-fourths of the way and they all just sat quietly as the radio droned on.

When they reached Cashel’s mountain estate, they saw that there were already quite a few people already there. Eight cars were neatly parked in a line towards the edge of the lot and Steve recognized two to belong to his Uncles Brennan and Aiden. Joseph must have recognized them too because he was currently cursing under his breath.

Everyone in the family knew that Joseph was not liked by his uncles, Cashel’s brothers. And while Steve didn’t know the exact details of what caused the dissonance, he faintly heard that his father had said the wrong thing at the wrong time and has been on their hate list since then. Add that to the fact they thought of him as a lowly individual and constantly berated him whenever things went to hell. If they thought that bad of him now, wait until they heard he was being considered as the next leader. Steve can already imagine the looks of disapproval and distaste.

Thankfully, Steve and his mother never had an issue with Cashel’s brothers. If anything, they adored Sarah and Steve and wondered how both of them ended up stuck with Joseph for a husband and a father. It was hilarious and they made Joseph the butt of their jokes whenever he came around. And while Sarah tried to defend him, Steve always laughed along and agreed with half the shit they said. Mainly because it was true.

They climbed out of the car and walked towards the front of the mansion, already consumed by its great shadow. The large wooden front door was opened to reveal Cashel, who looked down upon them with a huge smile and a glass of wine in his right hand. “Son! Daughter-in-law! Grandson! Welcome!” he cried. Deeper within the mansion, music could be heard, and someone’s laughter cut through.

“Hello, father,” Joseph uttered as he crossed the threshold. He bypassed Cashel’s open arms and made his way further inside. However, it was noted the way he looked around as if looking for someone. Or maybe trying to hide from a specific pair of individuals.

Sarah, on the other hand, walked into her father-in-law’s open arms and hugged him. She smiled brightly and started giving compliments to the Cashel about the house and how she was looking forward to another year of enjoyment. Cashel thanked her and eased her inside. But he paused and looked back at Steve. Steve stood just outside the door and looked up at his grandfather’s face. The man’s merry smile was replaced with something darker, more mischievous. As if he was hiding a secret that only he knew.

“And hello Steven,” the man grinned, making Steve suddenly uncomfortable.

“Hey, granddad,” he muttered.

“Are you excited about this weekend?” The smile was gone, replaced by his signature intense stare.

“I don’t know if I’ll do good. I mean, I’m not really cut out for…The Hunt, or anything. I don’t want to disappoint you or the family,” Steve gulped, hating he was showing any slight weakness in front of Cashel. But what he didn’t expect was his grandfather’s firm grip on his shoulder, pulling him into the mansion and leading him through the hallway towards the music.

“Don’t worry Steven. I believe you are fully capable of completing the ceremony. And hell, you might even surprise us.” Steve looked up at his grandfather’s face, trying to read the man, but there was nothing but a knowing smile. And before he could inquire the man about what he said, he was called away.

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Taglist: 

@mygirlrenee​

@sunlightandkisses​

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

H2o au, give me strength.

Aka guesswho just figured out how to do read mores in mobile and now tumblr is forever stuck with me rambling merfolk thoughts at 1am isnstead of my poor discord server

Tl;dr: why did they feed the Destroyer humans. Or, you know, just why did they feed the Destroyer. Period. I'm never letting this one go. If it's not a plot hole then the Eridians are so totally not-dead and so totally fucking with us for science.

Also let us team up with the Guardians to take down the Eridians instead of making both of us fight. We're in the same boat here. Let's team up.

I mean, okay, H2o au is slowly being enveloped into canon with every new content drop anyway, so...

Soon.

I guess.

So I am finally. Finally. Done with chappie 5.lovely shit. Means I finally get to work on the. Beyond. Which is just anything past the introductory phase of the black ops squad.

I know chapter 6 will be explaining Barnabas's role in the gang and also bringing Zane into the Black Ops squad that was abandoned by Dahl. And finally getting off Pandora. That's a big one. But after that I want to lead into the Obsidian Black (part 1) and Junpai-7 (with the Pandoran interlude between). But I also want to do the Venus Ambassador arc before both of those, just to solidify everyone as a team. Because it's a good story Brent.

The pronlem: my dumbshit idiot brain is like "OK. Good. But. Consider: Tannis."

Because Tannis is my life of course, I love that crazy binch. So instead of doing literally any of the stuff I need to do to get to rewriting Bl3 and beyond. My brain is: fumk it. You're gonna write beyond Bl3. The Eridian war. Team up the guardians"

Because I'm still kinda salty that the Guardians are just basic bitch mad at humanity. Instead of making the Eridians a parallel to the corporations in universe, and having the Guardians and humanity team up to take them down (which could enforce the whole 'don't get mad at the people the higher ups tell u to be mad at' dealio with corporations and all that. COMMENTARY!). like imagine. Humanity has these corporations. They test on their people. Humanity is a shit show. And then it is revealed that the Eridians are actually testing on humanity. Where is your God now, bitch.

So anyway. I've just been vibing with the Driver and Tannis for a bit. I wanna bring her to Sanc-III but I get the feeling Zane and Moze would both be VERY against that. Plus I don't even think she'd want to leave Junpai-7 since the planet is her testing zone. Her place of power. She's its unseen ruler at this point. Packing up and booking would probably have horrible consequences.

Context: the Driver was tasked with experimenting with new (or alternative) types of Guardians (like a handful of other smart Guardians across the universe were also tasked with). The Overseer tests those new types of Guardians, or pre-existing Guardians, to ensure they're up to the task. The Watcher was supposed to guard Eleseer and the Vault of the Sentinel and look for potential threats, then send the Guardians out to stop them.

I don't know how Scourge fits into this line, but I imagine he is some sort of strict rule follower who got way into his own head and defected from the others.

I mean, not to say the others haven't also corrupted from their thousands of years being stuck in the same mindless job over and over. But Scourge definitely went off the deep end with no new rules to adhere to, since the Eridians abandoned them (again! Think of the parallels, Gearbox! Eridians -> DAHL in BL1!!!). The Overseer is... On the edge, I think. She's definitely trying to escape the job she's stuck in. I think the Watcher is the most stable out of all of them, probably because she has the most 'free reign'.

The Driver is... Bored. Extremely bored. She began testing her limits, playing god with the people of Junpai-7. Using her experiments as her avatars when she could just to see, to get some form of interaction with the world around her. She sort of became like the Eridians in that sense, just on a smaller scale. Also, she'd been micromanaging the planet for so long she figured she had every variable in-check, but she didn't, and now she's obsessed with getting information regarding the things she can't control (friggen humanity).

I think if any one of the Guardians resembles the Eridians the most in this AU, it's her. And when she teams up with the gang to go against the council, they'll probably use that against her.

The difference is she was physically trapped doing her job for thousands of years due to her programming (thanks Eridians). The Eridians chose to do all of this and nobody forced them into this position. They just wanted to see what would happen. This is all an experiment for them to watch >:(. Mayhaps even entertainment.

I will say it 1 billion times: I do NOT trust the Eridians. No sir. Not after Nyriad talked about the Destroyer. Plot holes be damned, that set my alarm bells off so god damn fast. "we had to feed it. We had to feed it humans, specifically. Even though its hunger is endless and feeding it changes literally nothing. And if not feeding it would kill it, that'd be good because we want it dead. But no, let's fed it. Humans. The people we are now asking for help. Yes. Those humans. Even though there are hundreds of other life forms. And also plants. And if it's hunger is endless maybe it will eat rocks, too. All this sand everywhere. But no. Let's just feed it humans."

BULLSHIT. THEY'RE UP TO SOMETHING THOSE DAMN ERIDIANS.

I don't trust like that.

And all the humans depicted in statues and murals everywhere in Vaults that haven't been opened/explored since the Eridians vanished????? Nah. And THE FORGETTING that's completely brushed over??? Nah nah nah. I'M GOOD. these alien binches are so totally up to something.

I don't trust them at fucking all.

Even the Overseer hints at them not actually being fully gone.

So anyway.

H2o au is a way for me to have fun while fixing/rewriting lore and making more lore and also having merfolk in borderlands because. I need it ❤️. I also use it to answer lore questions I have and fix disappointing plot hooks. And it is being unintentionally (I fu king hope) incorporated into canon every time a new dlc drops and they reference something I've written about before.

Is weird.

Kthxbye.

[theateared]

I Don’t Give a Damn. ❜

Summary:  Edgar has always put his family first. Notes:  Past-life Edgar, lots of lore and (fictional) political commentary, all dialogue in Hural.

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

    Scritch, scritch, scritch.  Edgar heaved a sigh of relief as he finished the last of his paperwork, signature a welcome scrawl as he stared at the stack on his desk.

    Thank Raku.  I felt like I was going to go insane at any second.

    Huron had always been behind on the technological side of things.  While a lot of districts had printers and computers to lessen their workload, huros were stuck writing all of their important documents by hand.  Those that were of the utmost importance were laminated or tucked immediately into envelopes in order to protect them from damage, but there wasn’t much in the way of speeding up the process of production.  There was even a sizeable job-market for people to write these things in bulk, paid by the hour to produce copy after copy by hand.  All in all, Edgar was glad that that wasn’t his job.  It would have been a miserable existence.

    He stood up, limbs cracking as he stretched, before he proceeded to his boss’ office.  After a ginger knock and a steely,  “Come in.”,  Edgar made his way inside.

    “I finished the last of the campaign,”   he said, putting the stack down in front of him.  He watched as the man leaned forward, flipping through the pages quickly before patting it closed once more.  Though he would read it thoroughly later, he had come to trust his employee’s quality of work.

    “It would appear you have.  Good job.”   He watched as Edgar nodded, turning around to leave.   “Actually, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.  Would you take a seat?”

    Internally, Edgar vented his frustrations.  I’m not even supposed to be here today.  I’m not even getting overtime pay.  Do you really need any more of my time?  Nevertheless, he obeyed, sitting down before him.  The last thing he wanted to do was piss Laurence off.

    “You’ve been making some good headway with the campaign lately.  The High Court is particularly impressed.  They deem you eloquent.”   He shifted Edgar’s work aside, dipping into the drawer beside him before retrieving his own stack of papers.  It was stapled together with a large metal clip, though it was nowhere near as thick as what he had just been offered. Laurence steepled his hands, chin leaned on them as he stared at his employee.   “They’ve requested your help personally.”

    Edgar didn’t know what to make of the words.  He was a quiet man, kept to himself and never really caused trouble.  There was an emotional distance in him that wouldn’t be described as typical by most.  There was no reason he could think of as to why the High Court would have any interest in him at all.

    “What with?”   he asked.  Despite Laurence being his superior, Edgar didn’t seem at all intimidated by him.  He’d noticed it from the day that this man had started to work with him.  You don’t smile.  You don’t laugh.  You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.  But you’re efficient, and smart--  so smart.  It’s horrifying.  If you weren’t a model employee, I would have gotten rid of you forever ago because you creep me out.

    “I’m sure you know about the growing public unrest,”   Laurence began, attempting to gauge the other man’s reaction.  There was none save for a brief nod.   “People are beginning to discuss the possibility of strikes and riots because they’re ‘not being paid fairly’.  What is your opinion on that?”

    “I have no opinion on that,”   Edgar lied.     “Really?  It concerns you too.  You have no sympathy for your fellow workers?”

    “I have no sympathies of any description.”   He didn’t flinch under his boss’ hardened gaze, though he did feel inclined to elaborate.   “With all due respect, sir, it is not in my best interest to discuss political affairs openly with somebody who has the power to take my job away from me.”

    Laurence’s frustration was mounting.  Why do you never say what you’re truly feeling?  Why do you never give me anything?  Though, he had to commend the wise nature of what he’d been told.  He hummed, shuffling through his papers.

    “They’ve asked for you to write them a public notice of desistance,”   he continued, trying to move the conversation along.   “They only require you to compose the first copy. Then they will have a labour force duplicate as many as is needed.  If you agree, they have enclosed a list of points that they wish for you to include.  Your pay will come from the High Court directly.  It’s an expensive task.”

    “How expensive?”

    “They’ve offered to waive any future payments on your house,”   he replied, observing him keenly.  He was desperate to know where Edgar’s hubris laid.  Does your sin have to do with material lust?  Do you want nice things for nothing?   “It would be yours.  No need for a mortgage.  The only continued payments would be for your essentials.  Water.  Electricity. But to live there?  Free.  For life.  They consider that a fair payment in exchange for the avoidance of violent protests.”

    The gears in the man’s head were beginning to turn.  He didn’t find it difficult to stay on top of his bills.  He didn’t expect to have a house for nothing.  He also didn’t want excess properties tied to his name just because he was able to own them…  but owning the house would be good for his family.  His wife and son would always have a definitive place in Huron, and without the stress of having to maintain it.

    But why would you offer me such a ridiculous liberty in exchange for one letter?

    He knew why.  He knew it was because they anticipated some backlash.  To get an average worker like him to silence an entire struggling demographic would take more than just a lump sum.  Despite his previous statements, he did feel some sympathy for these people.  He himself was in a similar boat.  He detested the fact that his boss had been granted the power to call him in whenever he felt like, and he wasn’t even legally obliged to compensate him for it.

    You would laugh at these people  -  because you’re not part of them.  You’re not struggling.     You’re not being monopolised.  You don’t feel the pay cuts, because you get none.

    “Alright,”   he said.  He didn’t like to say it, but he knew that any outright refusal could result in the loss of everything he had worked so hard to get.   “When do they want it?”

    “If you agree to it now, you have twenty-four hours to compose a rough draft, then a further twenty-four to properly compose it.”

    Edgar went quiet.  Then he shook his head.   “I can’t do that.”

    Laurence stared, a smile threatening to spill onto his face.  Are you insane?   “Why not?”

    “It’s my son’s birthday tomorrow,”   he replied.   “I’ve told you this.  I’ve also told you I’m not working that day because of it.”

    “You work when I say you work,”   he retorted.  He expected malice in return;  a fierce declaration of freedom that he didn’t actually possess, but all he received was a dull stare.

    “I’m not putting in hours when it’s Gusty’s day.”     “He’ll have a lot of birthdays.  He won’t have a lot of houses for life.”

    “He’s young.  It matters now.”   Despite his calm approach, Edgar was beginning to get annoyed.  This man was so obtuse--  so obsessed with money and maintaining his position as the top dog that he failed to see anything else as important.  It wasn’t as if he himself didn’t have any vices, but would he neglect his son in return for some hush money?  Absolutely not.   “No.  I won’t do it.”

    “Don’t be foolish, Edgar,”   Laurence remarked.  His smile had long since faded.  The pleasant businessman front melted into something threatening, something bent on his damnation.   “The High Court is being extremely generous, and you’re about to throw it all away because you can’t spare a couple of hours to write a single letter?  You’re not being a good father because you’re not considering the long-term.”

    “Don’t you tell me what kind of father I am.”

    They were both surprised.  Edgar had not once talked back to him.  He wasn’t a suck-up, or a boot-licker, or a pet of any sort--  he was just passive.  He wanted nothing to do with the drama that surrounded the office, and he wanted no inclusion in personal endeavours.  He didn’t hunger for praise from his superiors, nor did he crave acceptance from his peers.  He just was.

    “Watch your tone,”   Laurence growled with a sneer, leaning over the desk in an attempt to invade his employee’s space.   “You’re a runt.  Got it?  You do what you’re told.  That’s what you’re here for.  I tell you to write a report, you write a fuckin’ report.”

    “I’ve done so much for free already,”   he argued.

    “I don’t give a damn!”   Laurence exclaimed with a laugh.   “I don’t care about your kid’s birthday, and I don’t care about your marriage, and I don’t care about your cushy little house in the centre of Huron.  I care about money.   I care about my employees doing their jobs.”   He leaned back in his seat, swaying idly from side to side.  Spitefully:   “You’re in tomorrow.  Whether you accept this job or not.  If you don’t, I’ll have you do something else.”

    Edgar sat there, somewhat stunned.  He couldn’t believe the audacity of this man.  He’d been part of a lot of different corporations--  had always worked hard and put his best foot forward, desperate to make a comfortable living for his wife and child.  His happiness had always come second because it was a byproduct of spending time with the people he loved.  Seeing them happy was his source of happiness.

    “Can we…  talk about this?”   he asked, voice smaller than before.   “I j--”     “No.  I suspect you’d probably want paying for it.”

    The words rattled around in his head for a while until they laid motionless in the centre of his subconscious.  His boss had made it alarmingly clear that he was nothing but a pair of hands to him.  A curious thing happened inside of him then;  something was burning.  It wasn’t often that his emotions surfaced.  He had them, he just didn’t care to let them guide him.  However, in that moment, all he could feel was sheer, unadulterated scorn.

    He stood up, hands slamming onto the desk.  He was satisfied as Laurence jumped.   “You’re part of the problem.”

    “Excuse me?”

    “You’re part of the reason that Huron is messed up.  You’re a money-hungry, possession-thirsty thief that wrings his employees dry of all their assets and treats them like machines.  You may not care about my family, but I do.  All of us care about our respective households.  You should at least understand that much, but you don’t, because you’re braindead.  You’re a fool.  And of course you side with the corruption of the High Court  -  because it benefits you.  I get nothing out of this.”

    Laurence stared in disbelief before his face twisted into a picture of rage.  He stood up from his chair, eager to tower over his inferior.   “Who do you think you are, some kind of hero?”

    “I’m just like them,”   he snapped back.   “You want my opinion on politics?  Fine.  I side with the people.  People like you are the reason that workers are considering rioting.  You don’t pay people fairly.  You pull people into the office without any prior notice, and without any extra pay, and you expect them to put their lives on hold for the sake of your desperation for a few extra quers.  As if you don’t have enough money in your pocket already.  And then what?  You stand there like a moron, confused as to why people are so upset, because you yourself don’t know what it’s like to be treated like garbage.”   He reached out, snatching the contract from the desk.  It was rolled up in his hands like a sacred scroll, then flung into the trash basket beside them.   “Why don’t you write it?  Just to get you doing some actual fucking work for once?”

    I have to get away from this man.  I feel an intense need to reach over and choke him with his tie.

    He stepped away then, smoothing a hand down his waistcoat.  The office was still and silent, jam-packed with bitter fury.  After clearing his throat, he said in his usual monotone:   “So.  I won’t be coming into work tomorrow.”

    The door was approached, though an obnoxious clatter had him turning his head.  Laurence had swept some of his belongings onto the floor in an outraged fit.  A finger was jabbed in his direction, his face growing red with how angry he was.

    “You go through that fucking door, you’re not coming back, Edgar.”

    He considered it briefly, then retrieved his work ID from his pocket and tossed it into the same bin that the contract sat in.  It sailed the distance smoothly, landing in it with a triumphant tink.

     “Good day.”      “EDGAR--”      “Suck a railroad spike.”

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

    Brielle knew that something was amiss with her husband as soon as he walked through the door.  Though he greeted her with his usual kiss on the cheek, going straight to the kitchen to catch Augustus before bed, there was something strange about his face.  His usual deadpan was accompanied by a rare glint of frustration, though he didn’t seem to want to talk about it. She waited until he’d had time to cool off  ( spending time with their son always seemed to do the trick )  before approaching him in the kitchen long after sundown.  He was busying himself with meaningless chores--  drying already dry dishes left on the rack was a favourite of his, as well as wiping down tables that were already clean--  when she leaned against the doorframe, tone patient but playful.

    “So.  Are you gonna talk or am I gonna have to drag it out of you?”

    “Drag what out?”   he muttered ruefully, picking up the dishes and beginning to file them into the cupboard.  He hadn’t yet decided how he was going to approach the topic with her.  He couldn’t keep it a secret forever, and part of him felt guilty for leaving it this long already.  After careful consideration, all dishes cast neatly aside, he curled his hands around the lip of counter, leaning against it with his head hung.  Quietly:   “... I lost my job.”

    He could hear her fumbling for words, stopping and starting several times before she finally uttered a small:   “What?  How…?  You were going so far in that place.”   She filled the space between them, her hand on his back.  The warmth of it seeped through his shirt, had his normally lukewarm innards feeling some semblance of heat.   “Eddie, I’m sorry…”

    The man inhaled slowly, then released it as a deep sigh before turning around to face her.   “My boss was a bastard,”   he admitted.   “I…  accidentally lied to you.  I wasn’t getting extra money for those shifts.  Of course, I didn’t find out until it was too late.  He used me.”

    She hugged him tightly, her head on his shoulder.   “Don’t take the blame for that.  You can’t stop somebody from being a scumbag.  You were just doing your job.”   In all his years working, her husband had lost a total of two jobs including this one, and one was lost on the basis of the company itself going bankrupt.  Everybody was let go of, because there was no site to return to.   “... what happened?”

    “He asked me to work tomorrow,”   he replied.   “And the initial job he asked me to do involved writing on behalf of the High Court.  I agreed at first--”

    “You agreed?”   she demanded, pulling her head back.  After careful consideration, she smacked his chest.   “Why would you agree?!  You know they’re doing bad things to workers right now, you were suffering too!”

    He sighed.   “You can’t afford to have personal feelings about politics in the field, El. Higher-ups look for any excuse at all to fire somebody nowadays.  They’re getting paranoid, think their workers are turning on them, and it’s because they are.  Of course I didn’t want to do it but I also have a family to feed.”   His hands settled on her shoulders.   “They said they’d give us the house, El.  No more mortgage.  No more excess bills.  It’d be ours.  All in exchange for one letter.  I could always join the protests at a later date, drive that anonymous notice into the mud.  I wanted to--  I just didn’t want to mess things up for you and Augustus.”

    “... ours…?”   Her eyes were round with wonder, as much as she hated that fact.  To be able to own a house…  it was a dream come true.    She was a stay-at-home mother by choice.  She and Edgar had talked themselves in circles when first deciding to have a child together.  Though she’d initially been working in the fields, she’d decided that she didn’t want to do it any longer-- not if she was supposed to be carrying a baby.  Edgar had agreed, taking responsibility for the bills while she focused on giving their child the best life possible.  She hadn’t had much to give up in the way of work anyway.  Edgar’s career had been going somewhere from the start.  He went from selling vegetables in markets and writing humble requests to the High Court for a place for a stall to being personally requested by corporations.  He was a businessman through and through, and the more closely he worked with people, the more coveted he became.  His latest venture had been on the political spectrum.  A ghost-writer for speeches.  Managing public relations for favourable, change-driven politicians that people were looking to tear down for being different. Material for party campaigns.  Now the High Court were the ones writing to him.

    “... but I couldn’t do it.  Because it had to be written tomorrow.  And I wouldn’t sacrifice Gusty’s special day for anything.  Nothing is worth that.  Not even a free house.”   Her face was receptive--  always had been--  and the love she felt for him was plain as day as she stared up at him with a look of mystified adoration.   “He gave me an ultimatum in the end.  If I walked through that door, I wasn’t coming back.  I chose to walk through it.  It was damn near the only choice I ever got in that place.”

    She couldn’t help it;  she laughed.  Her tiptoes were stood on, arms coiling around his neck as she gave in to the urge to kiss him.  He responded warmly, arms tight around her as he brought her body closer.  I don’t get to hold you nearly as much as I’d like.

    “Screw that place…”   she whispered against his lips.  He nodded hurriedly in agreement, keen to return to her.  They stood in their kitchen like that for a while, gentle but eager.  He tasted more free than he had in a long time, a poignant sense of relief staining every shallow breath he took.

                They don’t own you any longer.  You’ve been allowed to come back home.

    With his heart beating faster, Edgar pulled back enough to speak to her.   “So.  I’ll be home tomorrow.  If it wasn’t clear.”   Her quiet giggle made him smile, eyes closing as she pressed herself closer once more.  When she’d pulled away, he continued:   “We’ll have a good day… you, Gusty and me.  We’ll be a family.  And when the weekend passes, I’ll look for a new job and I’ll get one, a good one, and I won’t let them drag me in all the time like this one did.  They have no right.”

    A low croon was released as she scratched gently at the base of his horns, her own coiling around the tips lovingly.

    “Okay…”   she murmured, nuzzling her nose against his before tugging him to her once more.   “It’s been too long, Eddie…”

    Before he knew it, their positions had switched, her body sandwiched between the kitchen counter and his own, hands heated and hungry.  Yes, he thought as he felt her fingers begin to undo the buttons on his shirt, a giddy warmth sparking in his gut.  It has.