#...also apparently this was my hundredth post

[karmas-chameleon]

A lil writing too short to be posted as a fic (by my standards for my fics, anyway)

I saw a prompt for shipping stuff to write about a pairing growing old together and got sad that I couldn't really do that with Manfred and my S/I

...so I wrote something about it lol

For years, I'd shared a bed with Manfred. For years, we kissed each other goodnight, and I'd remember his face as the last thing I saw before I slept. His eyes, always full of love. His smile, a rare gift reserved for me and few others. And every line and wrinkle etched into his skin - those were the only things that changed, running deeper and longer as time passed us by, while his joy and love shined through eternally.

One night, we kissed, and I saw a slight hesitation to his smile. Hardly noticeable, but enough for me. Over the years, I'd learned to catch even the little things.

“What's wrong?” I asked him.

“It's nothing,” he said, and rolled away from me to reach for his bedside lamp. He didn't make it before I placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Manny, please.”

He turned back, reluctantly. “Just a nagging thought.”

“Tell me.”

“It's nonsense, truly. But I couldn't get it out of my mind.” He sighed, and looked away. “Do you ever…regret this?”

My eyes widened. “What? You don't mean-” my finger waved between the two of us, at the bed, at the manor itself, “...us? Our relationship? Of course not.”

“Not that. Not this, not now. I'm referring to what comes after. The- the temporary nature of it all.” His eyes returned to mine, fixing me with a solemn look. “I won't live forever. When you're in your forties, I'll be in my eighties. And when you're my age, I'll be…”

He trailed off, and I couldn't fill the silence. It was my turn to look away, down at the bed and my hands which worried at each other.

“You must've known such a thing was inevitable from the beginning,” Manfred said softly.

“I…I did. I just…didn't want to think about it. I still don't want to think about it.”

A hand entered my vision, covering my own and forcing them to be still. I glanced up at Manfred, at his face lined with age and filled with care.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“No, it's alright.” I took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. “I’d just rather think about…what comes before. I'll be happy to be with you, no matter how old you are. I wish that could last forever. I know it's not realistic, but…”

“Forever?” Manfred raised a brow. “That's quite a while.”

“Well, maybe not forever forever, but…a really long time, I guess. In my dreams, we'd be living together for years and years. Centuries, maybe. And one day, we'd say goodbye, but only after a long, long time. Maybe whenever the sun dies out, in like, a few billion years or whatever. Then I might be ready.”

I could feel emotion welling up in me. Not quite tears, but a precursor that warned me to abandon my current train of thought. But I couldn't do that alone. My mind was set on that path, away from my dreams and to a reality of death, of loss and years of loneliness.

“Hmm. You think we'd die out with the sun, then?” Manfred mused, a slight smile on his face. “So you must not believe humanity will ever leave the planet in that time - billions of years, was it? Quite the pessimist.”

Despite myself, I let out a laugh, and found my thoughts being gently pulled away from despair. “You're right. I guess if I'm dreaming big, I should imagine us on a spaceship together, huh?”

“You should indeed. I'm somewhat familiar with science fiction stories, my dear. If this imaginary version of me doesn't travel through wormholes and wield a sword made of light, I'll be very offended.”

I smiled back at him. “I'll have to try harder with my daydreaming, I guess.”

“Not so hard that you overlook the present, of course.” Manfred leaned in and gave me a second goodnight kiss. “Goodbye won't be for a long time.”

“I hope so. And even if…even if it's not, I still don't regret any of this. I couldn't, not ever.”

A wide smile spread across his face which deepened some of his wrinkles and washed away all of my worries. I etched that memory into my mind as he turned around and clicked off the lamp, settling down into the bed as I did the same.

“Sweet dreams, my love,” he whispered to me.

“They always are when you're in them, Manny.”

[wolfjackle-creates]

Hi!! I haven't been on Tumblr for a while but I used to read a fic you made out of a prompt (?) Someone else made about Danny who freaked out when he realized the Waynes are the Bats and accidentally shot Bruce(?) And if I'm not mistaken you made a part 2 of it (idr remember if it was a wip or finished) but do you have a masterlist so I can re-read it :D? So sorry if I sound weird (´⌒｀;)

It is absolutely never weird to ask an author about their works!!!! Thanks so much for sending this in.

It's been ages since I've worked on this one, but it's definitely on my short list to get back to. Especially since I'm pretty close to having it finished?

Here's chapter 1 on AO3. And the Subscription Post.

Chapter 2 is limited to Tumblr right now, only two parts currently. Part 1 can be found here.

Currently it's called Want to Hold on and Feel I Belong. However, when I do start updating on AO3 again, I plan to change the name. (I'm just waiting so people who have subscribed are more likely to remember what they're getting an email about.) Mostly I refer to it as my Bad Reveal AU. Though I get that's not a great working name as that's usually reserved for the Fenton parents reacting badly rather than Danny reacting badly.

Also, as a thanks for reminding me that it's been a while since I've posted anything about this fic (or, well, in general), have the next bit!

Here's a random 1.5k.

Previous

-----

Having a potential lead so close meant the hours until J’onn’s arrival were spent in prep mode.

Every uniform had to be checked for the slightest damage and upgrades done where possible. Supplies and go-bags were organized so they could leave the moment they had a lead. Fuel levels in every vehicle were checked and topped off where necessary.

And finally, the zeta tube activated and J’onn stepped out. “Good day to all of you. I heard my assistance was needed?”

Bruce went to greet him. “J’onn. Danny’s room is upstairs. Did Clark explain the situation?”

“Yes. He said that your newest ward has density shifting powers and left things behind in his walls and floor before running away a few days ago.”

Bruce nodded sharply. “Follow me. Clark will show you where the items are hidden so you can retrieve them.”

Dick happily zipped up what felt like the hundredth bag he’d had to pack and joined them. “Hey, J’onn. Welcome. How have you been?”

“Greetings, Dick. It has been a long time since our last meeting. I have been well. I want to wish you luck in finding your brother swiftly and easily.”

Dick nodded his thanks. “Same. We’re really hoping he left behind something to help because we haven’t had much luck so far.” Dick pulled out his phone and notified the family of J’onn’s arrival and requested they meet in Danny’s room.

On the way, Bruce and Dick filled J’onn in on the situation. At the implication of government experimentation, he face went hard and he vowed he would help them however he could.

Clark, Jason, and Alfred were already there when the group arrived and the rest weren’t far behind. With everyone present, the room felt crowded.

“Where should I start?” J’onn asked Clark.

“Behind the NASA poster. I think that’s where he keeps the weapons. One of them is an object that looks like it might be the same as, or at least similar to, the weapon that shot Bruce.”

Under Clark’s direction, J’onn removed not just two more energy guns, but also a glowing-green net, a boomerang, a tube of lipstick, what looked like a weird, high-tech thermos, and a wooden baseball bat with a sticker that said “Fenton” on it.

Dick couldn’t help but whistle at the pile. “Damn, he was packing all this?”

“Apparently,” said Damian. But Dick could tell his youngest brother was impressed and mentally reassessing his beliefs of Danny. “Perhaps he is not as helpless as I previously believed.”

“Why’s he got lipstick?” asked Steph as she picked up the tube.

“Don’t!” ordered Bruce even as she opened it and released a laser beam that left a small scorch mark on the ceiling.

She stared in shock before laughing. “Oh, damn! When he comes back, I’m so asking if he could get me one of these. That’s so cool!”

“Can I see that?” asked Barbara.

“Wait until we’re in the cave,” said Bruce with a sigh. Both women grinned at him.

Dick reached down and grabbed the net. Despite the color, it seemed normal enough, maybe a little smoother than most rope he’d handled. He pulled out a pocket knife and was able to slice through one of the ropes easily enough. Jason came over to look at it with him.

“Anything weird about it?” he asked as he reached out to touch it. “Huh, that’s odd.”

“What’s odd about it? Seems pretty normal to me.”

“It just… It feels weird. It almost hurts to touch.” When Dick looked at him sharply, Jason quickly added, “It doesn’t hurt, but it feels like it should. If that makes sense.”

“Feels normal to me.” Dick showed him the break he’d made.

Jason shrugged. “Dunno, then. I just get a weird feeling from it.”

Damian picked up the energy gun, Tim the thermos, and Duke the boomerang when Alfred cleared his throat.

“Before we get distracted, might I remind you that there is more to find? We can bring everything down to the cave to examine them with no more damage to Master Danny’s room.”

Everyone sheepishly put down the things they were holding. Dick bit back a laugh when he noticed Clark push the baseball bat away from himself with his foot.

“So, J’onn,” Clark said. “I think the next area of interest is behind this poster.” He gestured at a poster of the horsehead nebula. Dick had helped Danny find it and hang it up and the kid had talked about nebulae for over an hour as they did. The memory caused his eyes to burn.

From this stash, J’onn pulled some notebooks and two external hard drives, which Barbara took. Dick and Bruce both grabbed a notebook. Dick opened his to the first page.

Journaling is such a stupid idea. I don’t have any time for it but Jazz says I need to get my feelings out. Pointless. So what if I can’t sleep and Skulker attacked me again today during English getting me another detention. Its not my fault! Shit, haven’t done that essay for Lancer. If I miss any more assignments he’s gonna fail me for real.

Everyone knew Danny had been failing before he’d been brought to them, but he’d refused to discuss why. Once he was in school in Gotham, he’d gotten straight A’s. Even if he did ask for the occasional help in English from Jason.

But this raised so many questions. Who was Skulker and why were they attacking Dick’s little brother during English class. He flipped through the pages. Interspersed between journal entries were drawings of schematics. Dick thought he recognized some of the designs as the weapons they’d uncovered.

His eyes caught on an entry that started with a string of curses.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. My parents saw Dani today. In ghost form. They actually managed to hit her. Only her second visit and I couldn’t keep her safe. Some big brother dad cousin whatever I am. I did get her to the Far Frozen. Frostbite fixed her up. Taught me what to do if it happens again, too. And gave me the medicines and supplies to do it. I’m so glad I have friends in the Zone now. It makes it so much easier. I can’t get the image of Dani’s blood staining my hands out of my mind. Going to Tuck’s tonight. I can’t be around my parents right now.

Stomach dropping, he flipped a few more pages until he found one with a photo. It was a grinning Danny with white hair and wearing a jumpsuit standing on a curved balcony. Behind him, spire buildings rose into the air, many rounded in a way not often found on Earth.

Clockwork took me to Mars today! Holy shit it is so cool. Just, everything. We went back to when they were thriving and I had to stop an invasion. But that’s not important. Everyone here can go intangible despite being alive. Some of their buildings don’t even have doors because they’d be pointless! And the plants and animals are all so different, too. Clockwork helped me find some books on Martian history and biology and evolution. He’s also gonna show me where the Martians exist in the Zone so I can learn their language. Maybe one day I can go to Krypton or Tamaran as well?

Dick stared back at the picture. It did have that distinctive feel of wrong that extraterrestrial landscapes always had. He swallowed. “Uh, J’onn?”

“Yes, Dick?”

“Um, Danny. This is his journal. He said he went to Mars. Before… Just, before. He’s got a picture. Is this real?” He handed the photo to J’onn who hesitated a moment before taking it.

J’onn froze as he stared at the simple image. “I… Yes. This is my home. How…?”

Dick shrugged and wished he had an answer for the last of the Martians. “Someone called Clockwork brought him there apparently. To stop some sort of invasion? He didn’t discuss that much. He was too interested in the planet and people to talk about what he did. He was hoping to visit Krypton and Tamaran, too. Also said something about Martians existing somewhere he called the Zone. He wanted to meet them to learn the language.”

The look on J’onn’s face at the mention of other Martians existing somewhere was heartbreaking. Maybe Dick shouldn’t have said anything? When Danny came home, would he maybe want to talk to J’onn about Mars?

With clear reluctance, J’onn handed the picture back. “This is your brother in the photo?”

“Yeah. I mean, Danny usually has black hair and blue eyes, but that’s him. Do you recognize him?”

J’onn nodded. “Of course. He is the Omen. His coming foretells death and destruction which he will then try to avert. I know what invasion he is speaking of, it is, was, taught in our history books. He saved all of Mars that day. We thought him a god.”

Dick’s mouth fell open. His little brother? A god?

-----

Did you enjoy your little surprise update tonight? Let me know what you think!

[luvanniiee]

make a wish

pairing : idolbf!chan x fem!reader

synopsis : today is your birthday , you should be happy . but your boyfriend isnt here to celebrate it with you . well not in person at least . he facetimed you and told happy birthday and asked what your wish was . you told him what you wanted , can he make it come true ?

warnings : smut mdni , fluff at the end , dom!bangchan, sub!reader , birthday sex , kitchen sex (really sex on the table) , unprotected sex (wrap it or it will fall off), breeding , slight foodplay , petnames, oral (f receiving) , daddy kink , slight voice kink , multiple rounds , lmk if i missed something ;)

a/n : yall really liked my first blog , like 38 likes within 24 hours of posting it , mom im famous lol . anyways yall enjoy this story , i was gonna do one of model! hyunjin but it was angst , and i dont really like angst . but yeah, get in tooo itttt ! i might post everyday!

wrd cnt : im not sure how to check for that so 200+

story below the cut ;)

message after message, cashapp notification after another. people were sending you birthday wishes , friends and family sending you money to make up for their absence to your party. not that you really cared anyways, none of them were your boyfriend. you missed him dearly. he was away on tour, and it just so happened that your birthday came on the day he was set to go on stage. it saddened you , but you knew he would be home soon enough.

your phone goes off again for the hundredth time today, you werent expecting more than another message , but when you checked , it was from facetime. you looked at the caller id and immediately answered the phone. hey babygirl ! the cheery voice on the other line said . it was him, your boyfriend! hey baby! i miss you so much! you said back quickly . i know baby , ill be home soon ! also is that my shirt? he asked. you nodded and he smiled. did you get my present? he asked you.

you were confused. present? he seen your confusion and told you to look outside. you opened the door, and looked down to see a gift box. handle it carefully baby , i wouldnt want you to ruin it before you can see what it is . he spoke. you did as he said and carefully took the box inside. it was light and smelled really sweet ! what is it? you asked. open it and see babydoll ! he said excitedly. your suspense grew as you slowly unwrapped it.

as the ribbon fell off , you lifted the top. a cake! it said “happy birthday to my sweet girl <3” you smiled at the camera! now go grab the lighter and then put the candles on, then light the candles and make a wish ! chan said. you did as he said , hurry hurry i might have to go sooner than i thought. chan spoke. you hurried as fast as you could and set the candles and lit them. you closed your eyes , making a wish that he was there to enjoy the cake with you. you opened your eyes and blew the fire out. what did you wish for ? chan asked. it might be bad luck if i say it now but i really wish you were here right now. you replied.

just then chan muted himself, you were confused as to why he did it, but he unmuted and told you he had to go. you got really sad but you understood. he told you he loved you and he would see very soon. you nodded and said you loved him back and hung up the phone. you huffed out and sat back in the chair. tears were about to come out , feeling sad that he couldnt be here to enjoy this cake with you, but then you heard a knock on the door.

you wiped your face and looked through the peephole, you saw nothing so you opened the door and saw a single rose on your doorstep, it had a note under it. ‘follow the trail’ it wrote. you seen it was chans writing, so you wasted no time in following the trail.

soon enough the rose petal trail ended, leading to … your backyard? your confusion becoming more apparent until you heard the backdoor open, you turned around to see your boyfriend standing with the cake in his hands. you were happy to say the least, he put the cake down and held his arms out. you ran faster than you ever thought you could and jumped into his arms.

he squeezed you tight and swayed you left to right. your eyes were blurry because of the tears of joy. did i make your wish come true? he asked. you sniffed and replied yes! yes you did! and im so glad that you made it! it felt unreal but you didnt care. at least you were in his arms. he put you down and pulled out a blindfold for you to put on. i have a few more surprises for you! chan said handing you the blindfold.

you put them on and he led you back into the house. okay open your eyes. he said. and you took the blindfolds off and let your eyes adjust. you saw familiar faces. it was his bandmates along with their partners. you smiled and thanked all of them for coming. you sat in chans lap as he handed you more candles to put on the cake. you lit them, and everyone sang the birthday song. you blew out your candles and everyone clapped.

it was truly a beautiful night, chans friends who were also your friends were all there celebrating with you, and there were jokes being made, cake being eaten and partially thrown. it was a night to remember. then you felt chans hand place itself on your thigh, you thinking nothing of it as him just comforting you. he slowly moved his hand up and up till it reached the small space where your legs meet. his hand stayed there. but his fingers were ever so slightly touching your clit.

you let out a small noise that you covered with a cough. y/n are you feeling well? felix asked. oh yeah, i think i might have swallowed something wrong. you said dismissively. chan smirked slightly and started to move his hand so his fingers were rubbing you through your panties. you were struggling to hold in your noise. a moan almost slipped past your lips until chan spoke up. well guys thank you guys for coming! we had lots of fun, but we gotta wrap it up so we can clean up and get enough sleep for practice tomorrow. he said to his bandmates and their partners.

after everything was cleaned and everyone left. chan closed the door and looked at you. he gave you that gaze that made you feel bare. the gaze that sorta intimidated you. but you knew what he wanted. he started walking towards you slowly. you couldnt move, you didnt want to. he inched closer and closer to you. happy birthday babydoll! now let daddy give you the real present. he spoke, his voice dropped a bit which made you feel hot.

he knew you loved it when he used his deeper voice. he came to where you were which was in the chair you both sat in, and leaned down to kiss you. your lips moved on his smoothly. he licked at your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to let his tongue in. you tasted the cake flavor that was still slightly present in his mouth. you moaned at the taste.

he broke the kiss to ask you to sit on the table. you did as asked and sat on the table. he sat down and kissed your lower stomach. then trailing them but back to your lips. he kissed you passionately. you missed this feeling. you missed his soft lips on your skin. he kissed down you neck and left a few love marks then he kissed all the way down your body also leaving love marks occasionally in different areas. can i take these off? he asked you as he tugged on the lace of your panties.

you nodded and lifted your hips enough for him to pull them down and throw them somewhere across the room. he kissed you one more time before going down. he swirled his tongue around your clit softly. it made you lean into him craving for more. as he licked and kissed at you down there, your hand accidentally touched some frosting off the cake. you moved your hand quickly and you were about to lick it off. that is until he stopped you.

he grabbed your hand and licked the frosting off, making you more wet. then he went back to your clit and spread the sweetness on you. he mixed your sweetness with the sweetness of the frosting, it made him moan because of how good it tasted. that moan made you even wetter. also the way he started sucking at your clit , had you grinding against his face for more. he took his fingers and started to finger you. f..fuck daddy! you moaned loudly.

he smirked and kept doing what he loved. you. you felt yourself getting closer to cumming. you let out a couple warning moans cha…nn daddy im close….fuck im close ! your words seemingly falling on deaf ears as he kept fingering you and sucking at your clit. it was too much. cumming ! you moaned out before releasing all over his face. he moaned as he drank it all up. but he kept going.

though you protested and wanted him to stop, it felt too good. he looked up at you as he started to go faster. curling his fingers into you and circling his tongue on your clit. it made you feel dizzy , but it was so good. you soon felt your orgasm coming again. i..i…fuck…m’cummi…. was all you said as you released again. this time he slowed down because he saw you shaking slightly due to the overstimulation. do you want more? or have you had enough? he asked you. he already knew you wanted more. he just wanted to hear it for himself.

m..more . you spoke out, your body still twitching from the aftershocks of the orgasms he ripped out of you. he looked at you. you know the rule baby, you have to ask properly for what you want. chan said teasingly. please … i want more …wanna cum on your cock…wanna feel you inside. you breathed out. such a good girl! ill reward you with giving you what you want. he said as he stood up and took his dick out. he spit on it, and rubbed it against your clit. you shook slightly because you were still sensitive. he looked at you and kissed you.

that was his way of distracting you from the pain that happened everytime his length stretched you. you hissed a little and he patted your head. shh baby its okay, take your time and adjust. he whispered in your ear. it didnt take you long because you were semi used to his cock. soon enough you rolled your hips to see if it felt good enough for him to move. you moaned as a sign for him to move.

he moved his hips slowly a couple times , before he pulled almost completely out then shoving it back inside. he did that a few times, causing your eyes to roll back. feel good? he asked. you were too immersed in the pleasure to comprehend what was asked. with one sharp snap of his hips, hm? he asked again. yes daddy! fuck it feels so good! you moaned loudly. he smiled to himself and started to pick up his pace.

he placed both of your legs together and put both of them over one of his shoulders. that helped him to reach deeper inside and also to help him touch the spots that made you cry in pleasure. fuck babygirl….aw..your squeezing me in…nn fuck baby….do you li…like it when i fuck you like this? he groaned out. all you did was whimper, but he knew that you liked it.

his light moans and whimpers plus the way his hips were slapping against yours, had you reaching for heaven. you felt that familiar feeling when you know your about to cum again. you couldnt form the words to say it , but he already knew. he knew how your body would react when your about to cum. you started breathing heavily and you closed your eyes letting your head fall back. you started tightening around him uncontrollably. your legs starting to shake more, fuck ! you whispered as your orgasm hit you.

your juices started to leak out, forming a little white ring around his cock. as you came back to reality, you opened your eyes and started to pant. he always found your reaction hot. his thrusts began to feel sloppy and disorganized. his moans were becoming louder as he felt himself get closer. he kissed you to help quiet himself down. fuck princess….fuck..ah fuckfuckfuck i…i..m cumming…ah baby ! he moaned loudly as he stilled his hips.

he thrusted himself lightly into you, painting everything inside of you white. he whined everytime a string of cum would come out. he started to tremble lightly the more he buried himself inside you. soon enough though, he finished and almost collapsed on top of you. he just sat down and looked at your messy cunt. it was dripping with your mixed cum. it was a true sight to see.

he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned up, he threw it away and then carried you upstairs. he laid you down and tucked you in. he went back downstairs to straighten everything up once again, before going back upstairs. but just then, he heard a knock at the door. it was seungmin,

damn i was gonna come back and see if i left my charger here , but you can keep it after all that noise i heard. seungmin said and walked away. chan felt his face get hot. he was definitely in for a teasing when he goes to work tomorrow.

i hope you guys enjoyed it !! see u next time !! byee

©️luvanniiee on tumblr !!

[goodqueenaly]

@diegoedil replied to your post “House Words Wednesdays: House Mudd”

But is Mudd House really extinct? In episode 4 of season 1 of HOTD, one of Rhaenyra's suitors apparently belongs to that House, as you can see his sigil on his chest.

I'm reposting this as a reminder to everyone that I am not talking about That Other Show and will be blocking anyone using my posts to talk about That Other Show.

As far as the books are concerned, House Mudd went extinct millennia ago. See, for example, this conversation between Catelyn and Robb in ASOS:

Robb studied the sepulcher. "Whose grave is this?" "Here lies Tristifer, the Fourth of His Name, King of the Rivers and the Hills." Her father had told her his story once. "He ruled from the Trident to the Neck, thousands of years before Jenny and her prince, in the days when the kingdoms of the First Men were falling one after the other before the onslaught of the Andals. The Hammer of Justice, they called him. He fought a hundred battles and won nine-and-ninety, or so the singers say, and when he raised this castle it was the strongest in Westeros." She put a hand on her son's shoulder. "He died in his hundredth battle, when seven Andal kings joined forces against him. The fifth Tristifer was not his equal, and soon the kingdom was lost, and then the castle, and last of all the line. With Tristifer the Fifth died House Mudd, that had ruled the riverlands for a thousand years before the Andals came."

As well as this academic discussion from Yandel in TWOIAF:

The penultimate and greatest of the river kings to stand before the Andals was Tristifer IV of House Mudd, the Hammer of Justice, who ruled from a great castle called Oldstones, on a hill by the banks of the Blue Fork. The singers tell us he fought a hundred battles against the invaders and won nine-and-ninety of them, only to fall in the hundredth, when he rode to war against an alliance of seven Andal kings. Yet it seems convenient that there are seven kings in the songs; likely this is another tale concocted by the septons as a lesson in piety. Before the Mudds, there had been other kings near as powerful. The Fishers are said in some chronicles to have been the first and oldest line of river kings (in others, they are accounted the second dynasty, and the fragmentary Annals of the Rivers from the ancient septry at Peasedale suggests they were third). The Blackwoods and Brackens both claim to have ruled the riverlands at various times during the Age of Heroes. The Mudds succeeded in unifying more of the riverlands than any of their predecessors, but their reign was not to last. The Hammer of Justice was succeeded by his son, Tristifer V, or Tristifer the Last, who proved unable to stem the Andal tide and failed even to hold his own people together.

To be sure, there was at least one other would-be claimant to the Mudd legacy in Westerosi history: Marq Mudd, the so-called "Mad Bard", one of those "dozen pretenders from as many houses would adopt the style of River King or King of the Trident and vow to throw off the yoke of the stormlanders". However, both his reappearance millennia after the fall of House Mudd as a royal dynasty as well as his "mad" epithet suggests to me that this Marq was less a late-appearing heir to a long-gone royal dynasty and more an ambitious adventurer canny enough to play on the mystique of a storied old name but uncertain enough not to be widely accepted as such. Indeed, Jon Connington himself links use of the "Mudd" name, among others, within the Golden Company with vaulting, specifically unearned dynastic pride:

Some of the sellsword captains bore bastard names, as Flowers did: Rivers, Hill, Stone. Others claimed names that had once loomed large in the histories of the Seven Kingdoms; Griff counted two Strongs, three Peakes, a Mudd, a Mandrake, a Lothston, a pair of Coles. Not all were genuine, he knew. In the free companies, a man could call himself whatever he chose.

See also this comment from GRRM:

A question that crops up concerning the two old River King dynasties -- is it wrong to assume that one of them was the line of the final River Kings, ended by the ancestors of the Storm King Arrec, and that the other (as Theon recollects in his first chapter in Clash of Kings) is the line ended by the old King of the Iron Islands whose slaughter of the then River Kings sons led to the naming of the Bloody Keep? A logical assumption, and maybe half true. There were actually more dynasties in the riverlands than these two ... [sic] but so far I've only come up with two names. The riverlands have been much warred over. The Mudds were the last of the First Men to rule the Trident, I seem to recall; it was Andal invaders who put an end to that line.

[doctor-badadvice]

This man has not updated his wardrobe since 1947

There's already a few posts discussing outfits and symbolism and while I found them very interesting, I'm a person of strong opinions now writing two characters with chess related names. So here's my two cents (or should I say, nickels) about Bishop's appearance throughout the 2003 show and what tells us about the specific moment of his life that's being portrayed. The focus will be mainly on the palette, but also on whatever influences are behind the designs.

So let's get started!

1815 — Battle of New Orleans

Here's the first disclaimer. I know next to nothing about US history past what little school required me to learn and generically speaking, I've never been interested in the nuances of how people come together to kill each other. History classes were far more interesting to me when we talked about society and culture. So take what I'll say with a grain of salt. My military expertise here is a couple Wikipedia pages.

As far as Bishop's uniform goes, I have no idea what's going on. I read that uniforms were supposedly mainly blue with whatever color corresponded to what the unit's duty was, with the exception of musicians who had their colors swapped. If that's true, Bishop here could have been a musician having a not so great day at work. But the field medics later in the flashback are wearing the same color so it's probably just a choice to keep the color palette consistent.

Other than that, the belt would suggest he had some kind of rank. Though I don't think they were trying to be accurate past the bare minimum. I'm not going to guess what Bishop was up to in his mortal days.

Also, a special mention goes to Bishop's facial hair. He must have been popular in his time.

1870 — Creation of EPF

This is where colors start being relevant but first, another disclaimer. I appreciate the work wiki editors do, but it would be nice to have sources to whatever's stated on a given page, especially if you're providing estimated dates. I can't say I disagree, but it'd be nice to know where the information comes from.

So the wiki says that Bishop was supposedly born in 1776. It means that at the time of EPF's foundation he was nearing his hundredth birthday. No wonder he's dressing in all black. The average life expectancy at the time was about 40 years old. It's very possible Bishop had already outlived most, if not everyone he knew and it's probably something one would struggle to come to terms with.

Design wise, turtlenecks were nothing new at the time. Medieval knights wore garments in a similar shape under their armors well before the 15th century. And yes, I guess that's more of a coat than the average tactical turtleneck, but it still gives him a hitman, or even hunter vibe which is more or less what he was up to at the time.

1947 Roswell. New Mexico/present times

I can finally explain the title now. But first, let’s take a step back!

Bishop’s default outfit is the secret agent outfit™ we’re all well accustomed to. Specifically, I think the closest he takes inspiration from is Agent Smith from the Matrix movies (as I previously mentioned here). Guy in a black suit with shades, apparently impeccable self control and a distinctive way of talking that compels you to listen to him.

There’s so much to say about motivations and themes these two share, but let's focus on the aesthetic side.

These two fools are men in black. Yes, like the movies. The whole trope originates from some old conspiracy theories about the US government hiding aliens. These theories date all the way back to 1947 from some guy named Harold Dahl claiming a man in a dark suit told him not to tell anyone about some UFO sightings. Various fellow ufologists made similar claims over the years, making it a staple of their general paranoia.

Because of the second flashback, it’s possible that Bishop himself was one of these men in black, if not the one the rumors started from. It's a funny thought and I feel like Bishop would also find it amusing to watch people lose their minds about his fashion choices for decades.

Color wise, white has been added to the mix. It’s been a while now since the creation of EPF and Bishop has found some kind of balance in his life. He’s still dead set in his hatred for aliens and clearly enjoys inflicting pain on creatures he sees as undeserving of basic human decency, but he now has some purpose other than looking at the sky for something to shoot down. He leads an elite task force with men and funding devoted to developing a proper defense of the planet. He’s a foe not to be underestimated and a formidable fighter who can and will take on multiple opponents. But he’s also a very scared man who doesn’t wish what happened to him on anyone.

I often praise the show because Bishop can survive getting impaled but he still remains human. He will react with sheer violence to aggression and reform his ways when shown kindness. He will happily stick his hands in turtle soup for some DNA, but also be the best man at his friend's wedding and even attempt dressing up for the occasion despite having been deprived of normal human interactions for more than a century.

(I know it's a little cluttered in this point but I can't just leave out Casual Friday Bishop)

Design wise, I like just how an otherwise elegant attire works during the fight scenes and this detail specifically.

This man’s power is stored in the leggy.

Interlude

So this pic above is me right now.

For context, I usually consider the episodes of the staged alien invasion to the outbreak as part of the same arc. The entire situation is absolutely absurd from Bishop dragging the president into his fanfiction in response to budget cuts, to Baxter's bodily misadventures, to Bishop making a deal with a random ghost over the phone while New York is turning into yet another Umbrella Corp mishap.

But anyways we're here to judge this man's fashion taste and we have two outfits to talk about.

First off, a special mention goes to the catsuit and this pose specifically.

The sass is off the charts.

Though I find this one kind of depressing. There isn't a lot to read in it either other than Baxter grabbing the most generic tactical turtleneck for the sake of keeping Bishop from walking around bare chested (and the scene before this pic clearly shows Bishop isn't afraid to show some titty). But seeing him in all black right after moving to a new body kinda points out that Agent Bishop, leader of the EPF, is kinda on par with a piece of military equipment (and the president probably sees him as much to an extent). He's the mold for an army of supersoldiers for crying out loud.

But he switches back to the usual suit afterwards and what matters here is the supersuit.

S3 onward

Imagine being an alien, member of the starfleet of your planet and senior officer of the invading force tasked with taking over Earth. You have trained hard, wargamed the whole operation a bunch of times and concluded that it will be piss easy to conquer this underdeveloped planet.

You reach the surface, get into formation and then this nerd rolls up.

The best way to describe this suit is "hostile". It's hostile to the animators and to whoever has to stare at this eyesore before Bishop shoots at them.

And I love it. There's nothing quite like a black and red suit of armor with various cybernetics and lights to say that you mean business. It goes very well with how the stakes just start steadily rising from this point of the show onwards and seeing as the suit was ready during the staged invasion, we know that Bishop never really planned to retire after unleashing his army of clones.

It adds that extra bit of cyberpunk that I like to see and it shows that Bishop never truly gives up on anything since we have actually seen this design before.

Bishop was so proud of his Slayer he just stuck with him in spirit.

Couple that with a new coat to take off for extra dramatic effect and— maybe the president was right about not trusting him with unlimited budget.

2105 — New York apparently

Another century has passed and Bishop is still alive and kicking. Well, he doesn't kick as much anymore as it would be unbecoming if the beloved president of the Pan-Galactic Alliance were to go around kicking alien butt.

Jokes aside, you can disagree with Bishop's portrayal in Fast Forward, but they were still trying to do something meaningful with him. The idea of the turtles having to work with him when they were trying to kill each other just the other day is surprisingly deep for a season that felt the need to have the most unfunny robobutler ever.

They were clearly attempting a chess joke switching the palette to white with black streaks. Bishop has completely turned his life around and it even shows in the way he presents himself. It's nice to see just how much he managed to accomplish as well, even though it would have been very interesting to see him have a gradual change of mind, rather than selling us the concept through timeskip magic.

Does the design still hold up then?

Well, Bishop is clearly making an effort to look the least intimidating. He is fairly more patient when others don't immediately do as he says, even asking for help rather than blackmailing, and is still commendably dedicated to his job. He still asserts dominance by showing leggy (seriously, Mr President, that slit doesn't have to go this hard) and he's still deep down, at all times, ready to throw hands.

That's Bishop alright and it's no coincidence that he starts running around shooting aliens the second Baxter shows up in his life again. I'm not much of a fan of his new armor though. I think they were going for a futuristic design but it's the blandest they could think of. It reminds me of Obi-Wan Kenobi's armor in The Clone Wars but it just kinda comes out of nowhere. It would have been cooler if his tunic turned into a set of armor kinda like what the turtles got.

In any case, if you really want to see reformed Bishop really shine, you should check out @adenthemage / @violetvulpini 's art. You will not be disappointed.

[cienie-isengardu]

Cracked Mirror of Black, Cold Soul [Chapter 2]

Author notes: Continuation of this, formely posted just as "MK1 Fanfiction".

I'm writing it as Shang Tsung & Bi-Han's sort of friendship but if anyone like it as Bi-Han/Shang Tsung then that's great too. Also, nothing dark/graphic so far, but maybe in future I will go more into Shang Tsung's experiments, poverty and probably a bit depression. Just saying in advance as I'm aware my idea of "not graphic" may vary from other people's.

No enemy has come that day or another nor the next week. Shang Tsung fell back into his routine - studying, training, experimenting, once in a while getting the needed supplies, and then studying more, training more, creating more devious traps to apparently keep a certain cryomancer amused. The books and scrolls kept disappearing and showing up a few days later, even if he did not see Sub-Zero for weeks. 

Sometimes there was a note attached to returned volumes. Usually short messages, about Li Mei’s search for him or General Shao’s impatience or a new bounty on their heads or to avoid a specific place at certain times. He read the notes, mesmerized its contents, then burned the paper to not leave any unnecessary loose ends if he ever was forced to abbadon the fortress in a hurry.  

Sometimes the note said trivial things. Like under any circumstances do not eat those mushrooms you moron! - and indeed the mushrooms he found in a nearby field disappeared without a trace from his kitchen. Which was truly a shame, for if those truly were toxic he could at least study them to make a new poison or maybe even magic potion or two. More often than not though the message was clean up the mess! which did not amuse him at all. A bit of blood here and there and a misplaced organ or two and everyone was a critic these days. Like it was his fault the creative process at times got messy. No genius was even truly understood and in such moments he did miss Damashi, her kind hand on his back, the melodic voice encouraging him to transcend the boundaries of already possessed knowledge.

Sub-Zero sounded more like a mother hen than a deadly warrior and Shang Tsung for sure did not need anyone mothering him. He was a grown up man, he survived living in Outworld’s wild, uncaring hinterlands alone for hundredth of years, he did not need anyone’s help nor care. It was a matter of pride but also the bitter taste of betrayal that held him back from trusting anyone ever again.

He left his own notes then.

Stop fussing, I knew the mushrooms were poisonous, even though he had no idea, as he had never heard of poisonous mushrooms before. There were plenty of dangerous places in Outworld yet not many uneatable things to worry about. And sure, the fungus looked funny, with nice red caps and pretty white dots, like snow that embellished blood pool, which was specifically a reason why he picked it up in the first place. But why should he not, if the island was part of the Edenia realm and the mainland not so far away? The climatic zone was correct, the ruins were covered with Edenian letters even if the words made little sense to him. As far as he managed to check, he did not find any unusual plants here, no new animal species. Up to this moment, he had no reason to worry about flora and fauna surrounding him as nothing stood out… well, maybe beside the one white pigeon that so eagerly cooed at the sight of him and as it turned out, the funny mushrooms he found by accident and collected on impulse. The sense of danger did not cross his mind and if not Sub-Zero’s warning, he would eat the mushrooms soon. Maybe the edenian blood would neutralize the toxins that Earthrealmer was so concerned about, or maybe not. Now, he had no means to test it one way or another. Begrudgingly he accepted that Lin Kuei potentially saved, if not his life from food poisoning then at least his dignity, but the man did not need to know that.

The note disappeared the day he wrote it, alongside a few scrolls. A week later the paper showed up in the same spot with additional DID YOU?, and even the carefully calligraphed few edenian letters sneered at him mockingly. The rush of blood burned his cheeks and he did not need the mirror to know how red his face was. Out of anger, pure anger, not embarrassment, he told himself firmly while the note turned into ash in his hand. He wanted to burn much more and he would do so, if not the book on which note was left.

Shang Tsung stared at the thick book with a deeply red cover, pondering whether he should open it and bear the reason why the annoying Earthrealm left it there or just fed the flames of hearth with that blasted thing. It didn't matter what was inside the book, only how to not lose the weird game they played for weeks, with no rules and no clear idea who was actually winning. Losing never sat well with him and yet he couldn’t help himself than take a chance, any chance, to prove how better, smarter he was compared to others. And Sub-Zero clearly was exploiting that weakness, slowly and deliberately with each little note, each little sharp remark and additional subtext hidden in black ink, in elegant shape of letter. 

The man mocked him and challenged and Shang Tsung loved that game and cursed it in the same breath. The island was a wonderful sanctuary as much as a lonely, dark place and Sub-Zero, whatever the man knew or not, brought so needed entertainment to keep the sorcerer from going mad. Not that Shang Tsung would ever admit that aloud but fact remained a fact, whether he liked it or not.

The book was definitely not made in Outworld. It was not even a matter of unfamiliar letters but the whole texture of deeply red cover and snowy-white pages inside. Once opened, it smelled of ink but not like the yellowed, hand-written books did. To his own surprise, the smell reminded him of freshness, something new and still unspoiled, so it couldn’t be a second-handed volume either. This pleased him, more than it should. Before Damashi walked into his life, he rarely could afford to buy good quality items; the tailored robes and beautifully illustrated books were always out of his reach. How many times he stared at the richness of colors, how many times inhaled the storm of unique, unknown smells when he passed the small town’s market only to turn away from each stall? When a person needed to choose between food or new shoes for he could afford only one, it was no choice at all. The basic needs always processed anything frivolous, for luxury was nothing more than just a sweet dream to lull the poorest to sleep and torment them by day. 

Shang Tsung now had the money and means to spoil himself with the best; the finest food and sweetest wine, the most soft fabrics and tailored robes, the expansive magic ingredients he dreamed of having as a child. So of course fate spit into his face, as now the gold meant nothing. Only the power he held mattered. The same power now threatened by Fire Lord and Empress Mileena and even by his maybe-still-maybe-not allies.

A warmth spread through his cold, bitter soul at the mere thought the book was brand new and brought specially for him. Even if Sub-Zero did so only to scoff at him, to mock, he still went with the finest gift and not some rubbish. The gesture touched him, surprisingly deeply. Not many people these days bothered to spoil him a bit here and there.

Encouraged by the treacherous feeling, he opened the book on the first page and slowly started examining its content. He couldn’t read it though, as Damashi taught him only how to speak Earthrealm’s most common languages - the one similar to Edenian and the so-called English that tasted weird on his tongue whenever he was forced to use it. Damashi promised soon it would be irrelevant knowledge anyway, so he did not bother learning the unfamiliar letters. Like all other promises of hers, this one too turned out to be a false prophecy. With each passing day, the choking realization hurt a bit less. Each passing day also proved how much she witholded and weakened him on purpose, how much he needed to learn all those supposedly meaningless little things anyway.

Looking back, how he admired the mysterious woman, how he desired her praise and smile, was such a laughable memory. What an ally she turned out to be! And yet, Damashi taught him everything he knew about true magic and above all else, the final lesson will forever stay with him: to never trust anyone, especially those kind to him.

But… Sub-Zero wasn’t necessarily nice to him and he took as much as he gave, considering the rate at which books and precious scrolls disappeared all the time. There was no promise of great power, no sweet praise to make Shang Tsung starve for more attention. The man barely interacted with him in person, more interested in knowledge hidden between yellow pages than what Shang Tsung could do for him. A fair deal, a secret for secret, as apparently Sub-Zero liked to collect those, even the most trivial ones and he did bring a lot of important news to the sorcerer in exchange. 

It wasn’t a kindness, Shang Tsung hummed to himself, just the fairest deal he ever made. 

And who could know where this little deal will take them in future? Honestly has never been his forte while Lin Kuei Grandmaster was as straightforward as a killer could be anyway. And yet so far they balanced well between a little sweet lie here and brutal truth there. No matter how many times he asked, Sub-Zero did not reveal how he found the island nor how he got in and out of there, the same as Shang Tsung never spoke about his experiments done in the laboratory. They just accepted the unspoken agreement as it was, for now at least, and he cherished the weird comfort of having someone around while also not being directly questioned with the endless list of why, when, if.

The book felt heavy in his hand - heavier than it had right to be for with offered knowledge came a pitiful hope.

Maybe Sub-Zero could, if not outright teach, then at least help him to learn Earthrealm letters… if the words found a way to slip through the tight throat and clenched teeth. Asking for help was, in his experience, a sign of weakness he couldn’t afford. Yet he couldn’t afford to stay ignorant either, and the beautiful book held in hands tempted with promises of great knowledge - if he could read it.

Not for the first time he wondered why Sub-Zero wrote all the little notes left for Shang Tsung in the sorcerer’s own language. After the first time seeing the familiar letters of his native dialect in elegant yet unknown handwriting, he figured out that Lin Kuei already checked out his background and gathered all that was out there to learn from; to steal secrets and maybe even blackmail him if needed. Shang Tsung was not concerned about it, as there was not much to collect. A pitiful life of a lone salesman left little to remember about in the minds of common folks. Even if Lin Kuei managed to track down his former clients, those naive, desperate fools from all Outworld hinterlands, all they would learn was the obvious truth: the old-him was a fraud, a cheater, a loser never loved or missed even by his own folks.

Lin Kuei could learn more from his time at Sindel’s court, however Empress Mileena waged war on them. Not that it stopped Sub-Zero and his men from slipping into capitol, in her own palace, but some secrets still were out of their reach, at least for now. 

The only question left was if Sub-Zero knew the sorcerer couldn’t read Earthrealm’s letters and indulge Shang Tsung out of pragmatism? Or was that matter of courtesy, some good manners that mattered to Grandmaster enough to bother? The sorcerer did not like the uncertainty but he couldn’t ask, not yet, for asking meant admitting great lacking in his worldly education. Even worse, admitting the Lin Kuei Grandmaster - anyone - was better than him, and it didn’t matter how trivial such superiority was. 

Shang Tsung could bear Royal Family and Liu Kang’s Champions mockery and hate without blinking an eye, but he would faster swallow his own tongue than allow his maybe-maybe-not ally to think he was the lesser one in their partnership.

But why Grandmaster didn’t just write the next messages in English or any other Earthrealm’s language to test Shang Tsung and then to mock his illiteracy? Why not push and push, until he couldn’t lie anymore and needed to admit defeat? Why did the man spared him the humiliation when even his own, godly-self had no mercy?

It was the riddle that bothered Shang Tsung the most. Not the uncertainty itself, but faint yet no less warm hope that, despite bitter memories, filled his cold, black soul. 

Kindness was a dangerous, treachery tool that could hurt much more than open mockery. He did not want to feel that pain ever again. And yet, like a fool he was, Shang Tsung craved it more than the finest food or wine. To be acknowledged as something more than just a pitiful, poor copy of another, greater sorcerer - to be treated like his own entity worth someone’s time and effort. 

He craved it and how could he not, when the book, though definitely of Earthrealm origin, didn’t feel like a cruel joke? 

Yes, he could not read it, as the letters were unfamiliar, but there was a mark in each corner and, as he guessed, the skull placed there meant he was not allowed to eat the mushroom present on the page. Yes, he could not learn the secrets hidden between letters, but each page had its own stunning illustration. The pictures were so realistic, like he was looking at mushrooms just found in the forest or an open field. He had no idea what magic it was, but the illustrations were so gorgeous and bright with colors he had never seen in any Outworld book before. It needed to be magic, for those couldn’t be drawn, as the texture of the paper was... slippery under his fingers, but in a nice way.

The book was only about mushrooms, and yet each new page made his blood rush faster through the veins, heart beating strongly. When did he feel so good holding a book last time? He could not remember.

(A lie. He did remember. It was the same excitement he felt when Damashi for the first time showed him an old volume about elements to explain what magic is, how to draw it from the world around. It was also the first time she mentioned cryomancers, that they were real people and not some demons from old, almost forgotten legends. When he asked, intimidated by his own boldness, if he would have a chance to meet any, Damashi laughed, a sparkling laugh full of approval that he fell head over heels in love with. She promised he will, soon, and it was one of few promises she kept.)

Somehow halfway through the book, the red capped, speckled with white dots mushroom proudly showed up on page. Oh, he knew that one pretty well now, even if he had no idea how Earthrealm’s fungus got so far away from its native environment... But that thought faded right away, as the thing that held all his attention now was a small note stuck to the paper under the illustration. The elegant, familiar letter said ARE YOU STILL MAD? 

Yes, he wanted to say, to write it back on paper and stick to their usual place for notes. But the treacherous chuckle broke free before he could do any of it. To know how well Sub-Zero knew him despite barely talking to each other should freeze his blood. Yet all he felt was the weird warmness. Cryomancer should not make one feel cozy, not when a mere hour ago the bastard mockingly questioned his knowledge.

Was that… apology? 

No, it didn’t feel like that. For apology meant regretting and he still wasn’t sure if the man was capable of feeling guilt. Anger? Yes. Excitement at a challenge? Definitely. Regrets? Even if so, Shang Tsung did not notice that and he was usually good at exploiting such weakness in people around him. 

Maybe it was just cryomancer’s way to… well, Shang Tsung had no idea. It made him feel better though. So no, he was not mad anymore even if he probably should be at least annoyed.  

He knew though from on, whenever he would see the red-capped mushroom, he would always think about this book, the little note and one cryomancer that made him laugh despite himself. 

The little skull in the corner stared at him all-knowing. Thoughtlessly, he touched it with his finger, enjoying the cold, slippery feeling of paper. He liked skulls, always had. Maybe he should figure out how to reshape his magic blasts to resemble the skulls? Wouldn’t that be something unique, just his and only his?

Suddenly, the book was a thousand ways better than it was already. What else could Earthrealm offer him? What secrets and inspiration was there to seek and use for his gain? 

He grinned, all sharp teeths and gleam in eye. Maybe, if he played their little game well or bargained enough, Sub-Zero could bring him a similar quality atlas but for Earthrealmers’ anatomy? All he needed was the stunning, colorful illustrations and for sure he could figure out everything else on his own. He always wanted to study their enemy’s anatomy but sadly Liu Kang’s pets ran away and trashed his laboratory along the way.

“Are you again thinking about murdering Liu Kang’s Champions?” 

If there was one thing about Sub-Zero that annoyed Shang Tsung more than the man’s cold, rude way of speaking, it was the Lin Kuei habit of sneaking on him. It wasn’t annoying just because Sub-Zero caught him doing things that spoil his carefully cultivated image of a devious and powerful sorcerer - like smiling because of book he can’t even read or returning to fortress all wet and miserable when catched by heavy rain or his not best morning moments when disheveled and still sleepy he wanders through the corridors. No, the worst part was how easily the man walked the shadows, like the darkness was his to command. 

There was something terrible off about that, even if he couldn’t point down why. 

“Maybe” Shang Tsung answered with a bright smile plastered on his face. No reason in admitting to the man how correctly he read his thoughts. Small victory was still a victory and if he was not the winner, he did not like it at all. 

Sub-Zero’s left eyebrow rose up, but the man did not comment nor asked about the book in the sorcerer's hands. So their little correspondence about a deadly mushroom was a closed up matter and not worth dwelling on. For now. 

Since he rarely had a chance to see his maybe-yes-maybe-not ally these days, Shang Tsung looked him over from head to toe. The man had no visible new scars, nothing to indicate an injury or that he was in any fight at all - even if the sorcerer knew from others that Sub-Zero’s brothers, those pathetic idealists, looked out for him and hunted Lin Kuei like mad dogs. So far to no avail, what pleased him greatly. Cryomancer was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and his foolish brothers still did not figure out who had an upper hand in that strife. 

What however didn’t please Shang Tsung, was the bag on the cryomancer’s back. Full of his books. He knew the man was borrowing his precious volumes from the first day Sub-Zero showed up in his new home, but to see him actually taking out the entire stack at once? That was something new.

The saddest thing about the books collected here was their amount. As much as Shang Tsung hated to admit it, for months he barely managed to look through the shelves in his laboratory and there were more rooms, bigger rooms, from the floor to the ceiling, from one wall to another filled with books and scrolls. He had no idea what Sub-Zero was carrying in his bag this time, and even less what the man appropriated already. There was no point in pretending otherwise, as both knew well there were too many books to keep a track on all of them. A truly bothersome problem that cryomancer exploited without a grain of regret. 

Like always, the bastard ignored his outraged face, then adjusted his bag and walked away without even saying a goodbye or fuck you. The nerve of this man knew no bounds. 

“If you have time to steal my precious books then you could at least bring me something nice to eat!”, he shouted after the man before Sub-Zero disappeared in the shadows enveloping the cold corridor. Not because it could change anything but to have at least the last word.

Out of the darkness flew something small. He catched it without thinking, all reflex and curiosity. It was an apple, red and fresh, definitely not plucked from a tree on the island. Cold to the touch but not cold enough to frostbite his fingers. 

On one side bitten.

He should be mad at Sub-Zero, and yet the laugh filled his lungs. Well, at least the bastard did not ignore him completely. 

It was indeed a great progress.

(In the deepest part of the soul, where bitterness lingered like venom, Damashi’s voice mocked him how weak he was, how needy to cling to cold, uncaring Sub-Zero. How stupid to think anyone could bother to deal with him out of sympathy and not to use him like the pitiful tool he was. How despite everything, Shang Tsung learned nothing.

The bitterness choked him whenever he read left by Lin Kuei Grandmaster notes, whenever the man warned him about danger awaiting beyond the island’s boundaries or complained about the mess, even now, when the beautiful, deeply red covered book weighed in his hands. It was hard to ignore Damashi’s voice when it sounded like his own. But a snake should not choke on its own venom, shouldn’t he?)

Author notes#2:

Like the last time, it is mainly my character study of Shang Tsung and I'm on purpose not writing him how I would normally write one from previous timelines. I enjoy to explore how Damashi and her betrayal had a great impact on him. He is the "in progress" version, not yet the savvy, brilliant sorcerer but trying hard to be seen like that. Bi-Han so far is there mainly for the books XD

I also like to imagine there is some connection between Edenian language and one of Chinese dialect, while English and its letters is totally something new for Shang Tsung. Just solely to avoid everyone speak the same language despite living in different realms. Lin Kuei were taught Outworld language(s) so they could do the dirty job better. Hopefully I did not bore you too much.

This part was about the mushroom note. Next one should be about the mess called Shang Tsung's laboratory :)

[debb987]

ROTTMNT ANGST

I can't believe I actually wrote this, but inspired by @red-rover-au this post, which is also inspired by @cupcakeslushie separated AU! May I present to you: Draxum raising Subject One (Raph) as a test before all the others, which means the poor snapper gets all the attention (threatening) and is separated of his brothers by age gap.

TW: Child abuse :')

Also, spoilers for Raph's background on my fic "The Eldest Brother" cause I don't think I'll publish this there until after I get to explore the Rise!Brothers POV haha

Chapter (?)

The Great Baron Draxum was an alchemist mutant warrior, a master of the mystic arts, and was well and fully aware that the scientific method demanded a process of trial and error. For an idea to become an hypothesis, from which then he would need to experiment upon until the result obtained was what he required.

He had many mutations that were fast, strong. Excellent creatures that were not intelligent enough to think by themselves, but could follow basic commands well enough.

But he could not lead alone, he would require assistance. Intelligent, loyal assistance. Commanders that could lead the tropes on the war to come.

Thus, the creation of Subject One. Whatever happened to this one, he would learn from it and improve for the specimens that followed.

Besides, Huginn and Muninn had only been able to get enough blood for a single mutation. Lou Jitsu was the champion of the Battle Nexus and thus, heavily guarded. They had gone to the arena in hopes of collecting a sample, but true to his undisputed title, the human warrior rarely bled from injury, no matter who or against how many he was made to fight against.

It had taken months, but in the end the gargoyles had finally gotten one sample. The little creatures refused to disclose their methods, but in this instance Draxum cared not for the process, only the result.

And the result.

“Da.”

The result was absurdly adorable peculiar.

He had chosen an alligator snapping turtle, figuring that even if he messed up the first subject the resulting soldier would still be somewhat useful by virtue of its size alone.

“Da!”

“Draxum, the name is Draxum, not Da,” he repeated for what was probably the hundredth time. “But I do acknowledge your trial, even if it ends with error still.”

Draxum usually made an effort to maintain an intimidating image. Things like tenderness or physical displays of affection were not useful for that, but here, in this solitary cell, he allowed himself to enter without his helmet and dark teal bodysuit to— 

“Daaaa!” Green fingers made a grabbing motion.

“Patience is a virtue.”

To hold the rapidly-growing creature that was already the size of his forearm, and was starting to attempt to speak, carefully handling it so the spikes would not scratch at unprotected skin and cloth.

Because, as his current situation could attest, it was apparent that he couldn’t name, take care of, and watch develop an infant without becoming attached to it.

He had no need for unwillingly-formed attachments to his mutated soldiers, so he had made a mental note to delegate the fulfillment of basic living needs to his attendants for the next tests. Subject One though…

“Da!”

He would personally supervise its development. Just to see what else could be improved in the mutagen formula, no more.

“Dawwwr!” the toothless creature mumbled, nibbling at his hand in a mess of saliva and bacteria.

“Draxum, not Dawr. And that’s highly unhygienic, I’d highly suggest you stop before I force you to.” 

When Subject One just grabbed his wrist and continued to babble at it, Draxum curled one clawed finger and inflicted injury on the roof of its mouth. 

The creature wailed and trashed in his hold, coughing up spit and blood, but it was effective in making it release his hand.

“I provide only one warning. It’s a lesson you’d do well to remember.”

It continued to cry and move wildly in his arms, and at this rate getting scratched by the spikes was highly probable, so Draxum dropped it. Subject one fell on its shell, and cried even louder.

“Silence is also a virtue,” Draxum tried to say over the wails, but it was unlikely his words were reaching the target. He sighed, passed a hand over his hair, and reluctantly knelt down to pat the creature’s head comfortingly.

“Silence, I said silence,” he repeated with the pats, and the creature finally stopped crying and looked up at him. It had also stopped bleeding from its mouth already, the accelerated healing was working properly. Crying over an injury that wouldn’t even last ten minutes was overly dramatic.

“Da?”

“Draxum. The word you’re searching for is Draxum.”

Subject One sniffed and struggled to sit up, making a grabbing motion once more.

“Do not move too much while on my hold, or I will drop you again.”

(x)

It was growing at a very fast pace. 

“AGHHH!”

Perhaps a bit too fast, even. The mind didn’t seem to develop at the same rate the body did, which resulted in unpaired speech patterns, and the lack of skill to formulate strategies for battle that differed from a straightforward: smash it. He would have to remove the accelerated growth from the formula before mutating Subject Two.

“Halt,” Draxum ordered after Subject One fell again, rolling on the dirt like a ball that was aiming to collect as many bruises and scratches as it possibly could. 

“I don’t understand the reason for your struggle. I provided all the information needed at the beginning of the exercise, you already know how to defeat your opponent.”

Subject One curled into a ball, as three-fingered hands rubbed at the blood coming from its nose in a vain attempt of making it stop. All the while silently crying, the tremors of sobs were visible even from such a distance.

“Crying will not solve your current dilemma. Stand up, or I’ll withhold the meal of today.”

The turtle just curled on itself even tighter, shivering. Did it want to hide inside its shell? 

“Your kind cannot retreat into their shell,” but it would be useful if the next subject could, so they would fit in smaller places, infiltrate more easily. He made a mental note of it.

“P-pwease…”

Draxum sighed, and made a hand gesture to call off the exercise. Attachment to his soldiers was an inconvenience he really could do without.

“You will not be coddled in real battle. You need to understand basic battle strategy, at least.”

Subject One sniffed and shakily stood up, giving a slow nod. 

“...come here so I can tend to your injuries.”

And if he let Subject One sit on his lap while he did so, and gave comforting rubs at the spiky shell as the turtle nuzzled at his shoulder, no one had to know.

(x)

Subject One improved. At some point he actually started to win against his opponents, even if he resorted to messy tactics like tearing at the jugular or snapping a limb off with nothing but his powerful jaw. 

But the instances were far and in between. Right after winning, after the opponent stopped twitching and breathing, the turtle would cry at the top of his lungs, and in the exercise that followed he would perform remarkably poorly. Subject One wouldn’t even move from the starting line, and would just stand still and let his opponent beat him without any reaction whatsoever, not to defend or counter, and much less to evade.

Draxum had no option left but to call off those matches.

“You did well last time, so why did you freeze on this instance?”

But no matter how many times he asked, he was only ever met with silence.

This trend lasted for several months, until finally, Subject One started to win every single fight. The ferociousness of the isolated events became the norm, as the turtle perfected the combination of attack and defense he needed to— 

“HALT!” Accelerated healing or not, a lost limb would not regrow.

…

…

…

“Don't you realize the severity of the damage you could have sustained?” Draxum said while grabbing his creation by the shoulders, uncaring of the spikes digging into his palms. “Don't do something like that ever again! That’s an order!”

Subject One seemed confused, but nodded shakily. “S-sorry…?”

“You should be! You cannot act without thinking of the consequences!” Draxum yelled, even though there was no need to since he was quite close to his intended audience, but he cared not whether it was logical or not. All he cared for— 

All he… cared for.

“I care,” Draxum whispered, looking at confused dark eyes, the fading marks of rapidly-healing lacerations, the single snaggle tooth poking at a lower lip. “I care.”

He hadn’t realized it was to this extent, but the idea of his creation suffering long-sustaining damage, one the little turtle wouldn’t be able to heal from, was… unacceptable.

“U-um.”

“You…” Draxum sighed at last, placing a single hand at the top of the snapper’s head, ignoring the reflexive flinch. “You’re going to stay at my side.”

There was no happiness nor horror at the revelation. Subject One just tilted his head, confused.

“Why?”

“Because I order it so,” Draxum rubbed the top of his head, in what he now accepted was an affectionate gesture. “Just… follow me.”

(x)

“What are they?” Subject One inquired in one of Draxum’s supervising rounds, poking at the glass separating them from the holding cell of Subject Two and Three.

“Soldiers,” Draxum answered simply, “or at least one day, they will be. For now, they’re still at the stage of developing basic motor functions.”

“Babies?”

“Correct,” Draxum patted the top of his head, inwardly pleased at the lack of flinching. “Subject Two and Three are infants.”

“Together?”

“They are temporarily sharing space, yes. That will be rectified once the remodeling is over, do you recall that?”

Subject One nodded, eyes still focused on the smaller turtle specimens. “Yes. New, big, spooky.”

“That is not the name of the machinery,”  Draxum sighed, nudging his creation forward, “and we need to continue, so start walking.”

The snapper nodded and followed the instruction without issue. Subject One may not be very smart in terms of strategy, and the speech pattern was just now slightly improving, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was following orders. He would make for a good second in command, once he grew older and could learn more on what he lacked.

“Draxum?”

“Yes?”

“Other… baby turtles?”

“Subject Four is the last one, I will experiment with other creatures once the donor is brought here. I’ve requested the two Gargoyles to help me in this quest.”

The snapper gasped, pulling at Draxum’s rob excitedly.

“Can I see Four too?” 

It was rare for the small one to be excited about something, and watching him made Draxum feel sort of warm, so he yielded quickly.

“Subject Four is only a few weeks old, it does nothing but squeak,” he warned, guiding his creation to a different hallway. 

(x)

“Lou Jitsu, your dexterity and skill as a warrior is legendary.”

“My days of fighting are over; I won’t harm another creature ever again,” Lou Jitsu said with crossed arms, before leaning to one side with a confused frown. “Is that a kid?”

“Hi,” Subject One greeted, peeking timidly from behind him. 

“I do not require you to fight. I only require your genetically-gifted essence.”

“One: that sounds gross. Two: how old are you, kiddo?”

“...I’m five.”

“Aww, that’s adorable,” the warrior extended an arm through the gaps of his containment cell and gestured for Subject One to approach him.

The snapper turned to him for further instruction, so Draxum nodded once. “In spite of his remarkable fighting skill, this warrior has retired by his own volition. You may engage with your DNA donor—”

“I’m his what.”

“ — while I oversee the preparation for Subject Five to Ten.”

 (x)

He had left for only ten minutes. Twelve, at most.

The warrior was already out of his containment cell by the time he returned.

“I know I said I’d never fight again, but you,” Lou Jitsu curled his upper lip with disgust. “You’ve earned it.”

The absence of the turtle was immediately noticeable.

“Where is Subject One?” Draxum asked frantically, turning around in hopes of spotting the spiky shell, only for his gaze to be blocked by the sole of a foot.

“Where is Subject One?!” he repeated, summoning forward the purple vines to confront the human, as the others lifted machines and cages, trying to find his creation. The snapping turtle hadn’t gone through any fighting exercises in a long time, there was no way his small creation could have won against the champion of Battle Nexus— 

“Babies!” the familiar voice exclaimed, and Draxum turned around to see the five-year-old snapper carrying Subject Two to Four in his arms.

“Subject One!” Draxum called in relief before a hit connected to the back of his head, and the world blurred as he fell from considerable height. 

“...subject…one,” the edges of his vision were starting to darken. He could hear the sound of something exploding in the background. 

“Ouch, you little shit! Damn rat!”

“Mister?”

“Uh, don’t repeat thaaaaa— what the— m-my hands?!”

“Mister!”

“Shit, shit, that green thing— run! Let’s just run!”

“Sss… One…”

“Don’t worry Boss, we’ll get you out of here!”

(x)

His mutations had escaped.

His lab had been destroyed, and with it decades of work; as the machinery, notes, raw materials, all burned to the ground.

And yet, all he cared for was to— 

“Find Subject One!” He threw one of the pieces of debris at the gargoyle’s direction, heaving in frustration. “How can you steal Lou Jitsu right from under Big Mama’s greedy claws, but continue to fail on finding my creation?!”

Huginn and Muninn exchanged a worried glance. “Boss… he’s not in the Hidden City.”

“He can’t be up with the humans,” Draxum spat the last word with hatred. “They are the subjects of the prophecy, they fear what they don’t understand, they would kill him!”

They would… kill him.

The humans would definitely kill Subject One. His creation, his… his…

His.

“I will not wait.”

“Boss?”

“No, I cannot wait. If I do, those pathetic, furless creatures that compose the human race will murder Subject One,” Draxum said through greeted teeth, one fist curling strongly enough for his claws to dig into his palm, drawing blood.

“But… but everything in the lab was destroyed.”

“The Great Baron Draxum is an alchemist mutant warrior,” he straightened to his full height, “and I shall demonstrate just how skilled a warrior I can be.”

AN:

Turns out, Lou Jitsu had just started keeping rats as pets, and their bites made him bleed a lot :D Samples 1 to 4 were collected in this manner LMAO.

[novastories]

Line Without A Hook

Title and chapter loosely inspired the song “Line Without a Hook” by Ricky Montgomery.

Summary: Aurora arrives back in San Diego, and reunites with people she both expected and unexpectedly anticipated. 

Warnings: Swearing/language and mentions of PTSD

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sorry I haven’t been posting as much, been going through some stuff mentally. But without further ado, here’s a longer chapter and enjoy the reunion of the BAP trio 💛

Thanks to my beta reader and editor @reginleight!

As always, likes are great and all, but comments, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated and loved! 🤭

Previous | Next | Masterlist

“Where do you want this last box, Rory?” Amelia asks from the living room.

“Over there in the kitchen please!” Aurora replies to her sister.

Aurora was so happy to be back in San Diego. She, Maverick, and her puppy, CJ, arrived in San Diego late last night and stayed in a hotel. Aurora had called her mom and Amelia the day she had left Washington DC, to let them know that she was going to be back in San Diego.

Penny and Amelia were currently spending the morning and afternoon with Aurora as they were helping her move into her new house within the city. Maverick had yet to see Penny and Amelia as he went straight to the Navy base where they had provided him lodgings for the upcoming mission. In the afternoon, he would be going to the Admirals to be briefed a little more on it. 

“I still can’t believe my little star is back in San Diego!” Penny gushes over her daughter, as she gives Aurora another hug for the hundredth time today. Aurora groans as Amelia cackles, taking the box into the kitchen.

“Mom,” Aurora whines as Penny refuses to let go of her eldest daughter.

“She gets worse with age. You should have seen her last year when I bought my dress for the homecoming dance,” Amelia snickers, holding CJ, who Amelia had already bonded with.

“My babies are growing up. I’m getting so old,” Penny groans, releasing her daughter.

Aurora and Amelia both roll their eyes and chuckle, knowing their mother looks so much younger than her actual age.

Aurora kisses her mom’s cheek as she finishes unpacking the box she was working on before Penny left, walking into the kitchen to most likely unpack the remaining box Amelia had brought in.

Aurora was lucky that NCIS had helped her find a nice three-bed and two-bathroom house she was able to rent on short notice.

Apparently, Gibbs and Director Vance had pulled a few strings to help her find a good place that was a ten minute drive from the Navy base since the NCIS office was also located there. As well as her mom’s house being fifteen minutes away, with another five minute drive from Penny’s house to Goose and Carole’s.

She would sometimes hear the sounds of the naval aircrafts flying above her house, and it made her smile remembering Bradley. And Jake and Peyton obviously, but mostly Bradley. Everything seemed to be settling in place.

“So, when do you start work?” Amelia asks, sitting on the floor and tossing CJ’s ball for him to chase after. The dog ran after the ball as it bounced away, skidding across the hard floors and almost tumbling straight into the wall. 

“On Wednesday,” Aurora recalls from the email she got from her new boss. Since it was a Saturday, her boss had figured Aurora would need a few days to get used to her new surroundings before she started her new desk work. 

Amelia smiles at her big sister from where she sat. She had missed Aurora so much, always looking up to her. When Amelia heard she would be coming home, she was so happy she screamed with excitement.

The two sisters were always close, with Aurora helping out as much as she could, especially when Amelia’s dad had left them. Amelia didn’t really consider her father as a dad, as Maverick had helped fill that void a while ago. But she never said it out loud. 

“Have you heard from Peyton lately?” Amelia questions her, as Aurora pulls out a framed photo of the family. Aurora sighs as she hears the question. She stares longingly at the photo, where it was Maverick, Penny, Amelia, Peyton, and her at their graduation party.

“You know for being the talkative one out of all of us, he sucks at replying to letters,” Aurora responded, setting the frame down on the table next to her. 

“I hope he’s doing alright,” Penny sighs, walking back into the living room.

She knew not to worry too much about her son, but it never got any easier when he went on deployments. She preferred if all her children lived in the same place, even though she encouraged them all to live out their own lives and dreams.

“He’s fine. He has Bradley,” Amelia surmised.

“That’s what I worry about,” Aurora chuckles, as she pulls out the stuffed rooster that was given to her by Bradley when he told her his callsign.

Aurora thinks back to the letter she wrote to both of them. She didn’t tell them about meeting Hangman, or any of her cases. Just that she was usually drowning between paperwork and fieldwork.

Penny and Amelia give each other a look as Aurora stares off into space.

Even though they were both happy that Aurora was home, they noticed she was different, even though they just saw her today. Sometimes she would go into a daze for a bit before returning back to normal. She would flinch and reach for her knife at a loud noise sometimes, occasionally falling silent and biting her cheek, or even fidgeting with her bracelet.

Penny knew a bit of her PTSD to an extent, but not the whole story, where Amelia didn’t know anything. They didn’t say anything though, wanting Aurora to get settled before saying anything. 

“Any big plans tonight?” Penny asks, drawing Aurora out of her mind.

“Probably nothing as fun as what you’re going to ask me,” Aurora smirks at her mom.

“Well, how about a little help tonight at the Hard Deck then since you don’t have to work yet?” Penny suggests. “Amelia is sleeping over at her friend’s house. I had a coworker have something come up and I need someone to help me with the Saturday rush.”

“Sure! I haven’t bartended since college, so I might be a bit slow,” Aurora shrugs.

“No, you’ll be fine,” Penny reassures her. “Plus, you’ve always been good at it.”

“And there’s always hot eye candy to look at too!” Amelia pipes in.

“Amelia!” Penny turns to her youngest daughter. Aurora bursts out laughing at her sister’s antics.

“Not that it matters, you only have eyes for Bradley,” Amelia teases in a singsong voice.

Aurora rolls her eyes, not objecting to her statement, and throws bubble wrap at her. Amelia catches it and tries throwing it back at Aurora and soon they end up throwing a lot of the leftover bubble wrap around, with CJ jumping up and down, joining in the chaos.

Penny chuckles at her daughters, wishing Peyton was there to complete the family.

—

Maverick had just finished his meeting with Cyclone and Warlock as he sat at the bar of the Hard Deck. How was he not only supposed to train this new group of aviators but also work with his godson who had still yet to even talk to him ever since he pulled his papers from the Academy? 

He had already spotted two of the students he was going to be training for the mission at the dartboard, noting that he could already sense the ego of the blonde guy. He was texting Ice about his meeting before he heard a voice speak to him.

“Dad?”

He looked up and saw Aurora had walked in with her purse in hand with a confused look on her face. Maverick turned to her, confused about what Aurora was doing at the bar.

“Sweetie? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same question. Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting with your higher-ups about the mission?”

“I finished. Why are you-”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” a voice says behind the bar. Maverick turns back towards the bar and sees Penny. “Pete.”

“Penny? What are you doing here?” Maverick questions, stunned and confused, until remembering the bar he’s at and laughs to himself. He was so deep in his thoughts, he had forgotten that Penny owned the bar and was most likely working.

“I should ask you the same thing,” Penny answers him. “Hi sweetie, you can put your bag in the office near the kitchen,” Penny tells her daughter. 

“Sure thing, mom.”

“You’re working the bar tonight?” Maverick asks Aurora. 

“Duh, gotta help mom out,” she winks at both of them heading towards the kitchen/back area and leaving her purse inside the office before walking out toward the bar area.

“No way. Artemis?!” a voice calls. Aurora freezes in her tracks and turns to the voice.

In all his glory, stood Jake Seresin in his khaki uniform, standing next to the dartboard. 

“Holy shit! Hangman?” Aurora was stunned.

Last she had heard from him, he was stationed down in Texas, near his family for the time being. They would message each other now and then, as they had truly bonded quite a bit ever since Aurora had saved his life.

He holds out his arms, as Aurora walks quickly towards him and launches herself into his arms. 

“What are you doing here?” Jake questions the woman after pulling back from the hug, holding her within arm's length.

“Reassigned to the office here in San Diego. What about you?”

“Called in for an assignment at Top Gun. They called in the best of the best,” Jake answers proudly. Aurora freezes for a bit. 

Does that mean Bradley would be called back? What about Peyton? No way, she thought. They would have called her. She shakes that thought from her mind, focusing back on the guy in front of her.

“Who’s this?”

Aurora and Jake turn to the friend he was with, the other guy confused as he had never met the woman who had hugged Jake.

“Oh, crap right. Coyote, this is Aurora. Aurora, this is my friend, callsign Coyote,” Jake introduces.

“Lieutenant Javy Machado, at your service ma'am,” Javy says as he puts out his hand for Aurora to shake, to which she does. 

“Aurora Benjamin-Mitchell, nickname Artemis,” she smiles proudly. 

“Wait, hold on. As in THE Artemis? The NCIS agent who is part of the infamous Gibbs team in DC? The team that solved the Port-to-Port killer case?” Javy questions incredulously. He wonders how Jake knew her.

“The one and only,” she proudly smirks at him before shortly being called by Penny to hurry and get behind the bar.

“Sorry for the short introduction. Duty calls,” Aurora winks at both of them before hurrying towards her mom, who was still talking to Maverick.

“Wait. Mitchell? As in?”

“Apollo? Yeah.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Holy fuck is right. C’mon. I’ll tell you all about it while I beat you at pool,” as Jake drags Javy to the pool table.

Aurora was behind the bar and she could hear her mom and dad talking, and she smiled at their interaction. She loved seeing her parents together.

Even though many times they’ve told the kids to never get their hopes up of them getting together, Aurora also held hope for them. She saw the way her dad looked at her and her mom never talked badly about Maverick, even though Maverick would leave constantly. They loved each other too much to ever talk badly about each other.

Aurora was drawn out of her thoughts when her mom rang the bell. She looks at her dad and sees that he has his cell phone on the bar, looking around confused.

“What am I missing?” He asks his daughter. She chuckles and gestures to the sign.

“Disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your phone on my bar,” he reads.

“And you buy a round,” Penny finished his sentence. Aurora laughs as she scoops ice into a shaker and makes a drink for someone. 

“For everyone?” Maverick looked around, nervous as there were quite a few people in the bar.

“I’m afraid rules are rules,” Penny smirks at him.

“You’re lucky it’s early dad,” Aurora chuckles as she leaves to serve the drink. 

Aurora smiles as she hands the drink to a lady, taking her card to open a tab for her. She was getting into the groove of things behind the bar with her mom.

She used to bartend a bit in college before her NCIS internship in order to earn a bit of money on the weekend. It helped her out a lot during an undercover case, as well as when her mom purchased the Hard Deck. 

“What do we have here?” Aurora hears Jake call out from across the bar. She turns and glances at who he’s talking about, seeing a woman and two other men wearing their khaki uniforms enter into the bar.

“If it ain’t Phoenix!” Jake smiles at the woman who had stopped in front of him. “And here I thought we were special, Coyote.”

Aurora rolls her eyes at Jake’s ego literally oozing out from him, as she turns to reach the beer tap next to her, filling a drink for someone. A bit goes by and she hears Jake call for her.

“Artemis, my dear.”

Aurora rolls her eyes as she turns to him.

“What do you want, Hangman?” 

“I’ll have four more on the old timer,” Jake says, as he makes eye contact with Maverick.

Jake didn’t know who he was, which made Aurora want to laugh, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Say please,” she teases.

He rolls her eyes as her mom comes up right behind her.

“I got it, can you get some glasses in the back for me? And fill up the kegs as well,” Penny tells her.

“Sure, mom.”

“Mom?” Jake asks, as Aurora was about to leave. She winks at him, as she rushes to go to the kitchen, but before she does, she goes up to the jukebox and puts on the song “Tramp.”

It was a song Bradley had added to the Spotify playlist that he, Aurora, and Peyton shared, and it reminded her of him. She smiles as it comes on, before running to the back. 

Outside, Bradley had just parked the Bronco outside the Hard Deck and turned to Peyton. 

“You ready?”

“Hell yeah.”

Together, they both exit the car and strut into the Hard Deck with their sunglasses on. Both of them decided to forego their khaki uniform and wear comfortable clothes instead.

“Ha! Someone’s playing your song Rooster,” Peyton chuckles, as Bradley rolls his eyes, not that Peyton could see it.

“Bradshaw! Mitchell! Is that you?”

Penny and Maverick turn to see the two standing near the Hard Deck doorway, shocked. Maverick knew Bradley was going to be part of the mission, but he didn’t know about his son being stateside. Penny didn’t know either of them would be back. 

Bradley and Peyton walk up to Natasha. 

“This is how I found out you both are stateside?”

“We just thought we’d surprise you,” Peyton smirks, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

Bradley chuckles at his best friend’s remark, but then grunts in pain as Natasha hits him with the pool stick as she hits her ball into the pocket.

“I guess I surprised you back,” Natasha replies as Bradley looks up. 

“It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

Bradley pats her shoulder before standing up to say hello to everyone else. Peyton hugs Natasha before greeting Mickey, who was also someone he had met during his time at the Naval Academy.

“Here you go,” Penny says, before handing over the beers to Jake.

“Thank you,” he genuinely says to Penny, now that he also realized that Penny is Aurora and Peyton’s mom.

“Much appreciated Pops,” Jake says to Maverick, winking at him before heading to the jukebox. 

Maverick shakes his head going back to nursing his drink. 

Aurora, still in the back, was bobbing to the faint music as she moved a few of the empty kegs so she was able to change the hose to the full kegs. The full kegs were always heavy to move, so she knew this would take a while. 

The jukebox changes to the song Jake had put on, “Slow Ride,” and Aurora in the back chuckles knowing that it was him that put the song on. Jake soon walks back to the pool table and spots Bradley Bradshaw.

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe,” Jake smirks as he hands the beers to Coyote and faces him. He takes the pool stick from Bob as he lines up to take a shot.

“Hangman, you look…good,” Bradley admits before giving a quick glance to Peyton next to him, to which Peyton, who was sitting on a bar stool, kicks him.

“Well, I am good Rooster,” Jake says as he shoots the ball into the pocket. “I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.” 

He stands up and sees Peyton and tries to keep cool. “Apollo, still attached to Bradshaw's hip I see.”

“Hangman, still vying for attention I see,” Peyton retorts back.

“So,” Payback interrupts the two. “Anybody know what this special detachment is about?”

“Well, a mission’s a mission. They don’t confront me” Jake replies.

Bradley had to hold in a chuckle before turning to Peyton, who was trying his hardest not to let out a groan, as Peyton had repeated those exact words to Bradley that day. 

“What I want to know is,” Jake continues, “Who’s gonna be team leader?”

The pool balls clatter. 

“And which one of y’all has what it takes, to follow me.”

Bradley was over Jake’s ego, so he decided to say something back.

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.”

It quiets around them, besides the music playing in the background, while you can hear Mickey let out a small laugh. Peyton smacks Bradley’s arm, while even Natasha looks at Bradley with a little disbelief. 

Jake smirks at Bradley as he makes his way in front of Bradley, passing by Payback and Phoenix. 

“Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna, run out of fuel,” Jake smirks as he sits on the edge of the pool table. Bradley smirks at him, keeping eye contact and never backing down.

“But that’s just you, ain’t it Rooster,” Jake sighs as he stands up to eye Bradley, chest to chest.

“You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment, that never comes,” Jake whispers to him.

Not only did Jake mean in the sense of Bradley’s flying skill, but also meaning Bradley’s waiting for Aurora. Jake wondered how long Aurora would wait for him if Bradley would ever make a move. Aurora would brush it off whenever they talked about it via letters and texts.

Him and Bradley stand chest to chest, neither backing down. “Slow Ride” continues playing in the background.

“I love this song,” Jake grins, as he walks away and leaves Bradley, pondering what Jake had said. Natasha walks up to Bradley, who both were watching him walk away towards the bar.

“Well, he hasn’t changed,” Nat says.

“Nope, sure hasn’t,” Bradley looks at Nat and they both just roll their eyes at Jake.

“So am I the only one who felt the sexual tension, or…?” Peyton speaks up.

Bradley swats at him, and they both laugh it off. Bradley sits next to Peyton, both watching the next pool game happen, their seats against a pillar blocking the bar.

Aurora walks back out of the area, and lugs the box of clean glasses from the kitchen, to the bar. 

“Need help there, hon?” Penny asks her, moving out of the way so Aurora could set the box down.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll set them down over there on the other side of the bar.”

Aurora sets down the box as she huffs to take a breather.

“You look like you were struggling for a bit there.”

Aurora looks up and sees Jake leaning against the bar, smirking at her.

“You think you can do better?”

“Oh, I know I can,” Jake teasingly winks at her as she laughs.

She fiddles with her bracelet, and Jake realizes how much Aurora was still struggling with her PTSD and anxiety. He gave her a worried look, to which Aurora shook her head, not wanting to talk about it.

“Need another beer?” Aurora asks.

“Please.”

Nat looks back over to Jake and sees him flirting with a woman, whom she felt she recognized, but couldn’t quite place her.

“Hey, who’s Hangman flirting with? She looks familiar.”

Mickey, Bob, and Payback look to where Nat was gesturing towards. 

“Oh, that poor girl. She must be a new bartender,” Mickey assumes.

“She’s pretty cute though,” Payback admits.

Coyote looks over to where they were looking, laughs to himself, and takes a glance at Peyton and Bradley who still had yet to look at Jake and Aurora. 

“Wait, who?” Peyton was confused, feeling a bit jealous, but trying not to show it. 

“Look, over there,” Bob says as he points behind Bradley and Peyton, towards the bar.

Peyton and Bradley both get out of their seats to look at Jake and this so-called new bartender and they froze.

Aurora and Jake were laughing as Aurora handed him a beer.

Peyton was the first to react as he got up and walked past Nat, Bob, and Mickey who were staring at the two.

“Wait, Apollo, what are you-? Rooster? Where the hell are you two going?” Natasha was confused at their sudden urgency.

Bradley trails behind Peyton, knowing it was best to let the twins have their own reunion first. 

Peyton walked faster towards the bar. Soon he could hear his sister and Jake talking until he spoke up.

“Rory.”

She froze and looked over Jake’s shoulder, gasping.

“Pey?” 

She exited the bar area and ran straight into her brother’s arm, tearfully wrapping her arms around him. It had been about 3 years since they last saw each other, the longest they had been away from each other.

Jake smiles at the two, before leaving to go back to the pool table to give them space for their reunion.

“What are you doing here?” They both asked at the same time before laughing and looking into each other’s eyes.

Peyton examines his little sister, who didn’t look so little anymore. Her dark brown hair now had faded blonde tips, Peyton guessed from when she had dyed it and just decided to let them grow out.

Aurora smiles as she puts her hand on her brother’s cheek. She could feel the stubble underneath her hand. Peyton and Aurora, as different as they are, were the spitting image of each other, especially now that they had grown up. 

“Wait, if you’re here then…” Aurora trails off before looking over Peyton’s shoulder, tears filling her eyes.

There stood her best friend, all grown up. Bradley was not the lanky boy she had left those years ago. He had filled out, and had a mustache just like his father. She would poke fun at it later, but all she could do is take him in.

Bradley couldn’t believe the girl he was just thinking about was finally right in front of him again. He had to be dreaming. It wasn’t until Aurora tore herself from Peyton and started running towards him did he finally realize this was reality.

He took her into his arms, lifting her up and swinging her into a little spin, as she gripped onto him tightly, giggling and burying her face into his neck.

He stopped after a few turns, setting her down, before taking a good look at her, cupping her face in his right hand, and leaving his left hand on her waist. Aurora stares at the man in front, her heart beating fast, finally being back in the presence of her best friend. 

“Am I dreaming? You’re actually here?” Bradley wistfully asks her, still not believing Aurora was right in front of him.

Aurora smirks as she keeps her hands around his neck, even with the height difference, she was on her tippy toes to help reach around his neck.

“Dream of me often, Bradshaw?”

Bradley chuckles in disbelief. He gives Aurora a kiss on her forehead before replying.

“Every hour, every minute, every second that I breathe princess,” he whispers with his raspy voice into her hair.

Aurora’s breath hitches at the nickname. It had been so long since she had heard him say that. She would never get enough of Bradley calling her nicknames.

Her heart was full of love, as Peyton approached the two, grouping all of them into a hug. 

The trio was back together as they held each other tightly, before letting go. 

“What are you doing here, Ro? Aren’t you supposed to be back in Washington DC?” Peyton asks her.

“I was reassigned to the San Diego NCIS office after uh…after realizing I wanted to come home, especially for Amelia and mom,” Aurora changes her answer quickly, remembering she had yet to tell them about her PTSD. Technically it was the truth, just half the truth.

Aurora then realizes that the two idiots in front of her didn’t even call her to let her know that they were both stateside.

“And you two! When were you both going to tell me you were stateside?” She accuses the two. 

Bradley and Peyton suddenly both looked interested at their surroundings, refusing to look at Aurora.

Peyton soon spots his mom and his dad across the bar. He sighs, relieved that he found a way out.

“Oh my gosh, is that mom and dad?” Peyton interrupts Aurora mid-rant of telling them off for not letting her know they’d be in San Diego. “I better go say hi to them!”

Immediately, he’d taken his way out and left to go say hi to their parents.

“Peyton, get back here!” Aurora follows her twin. Peyton tries not to run into people as he tries to escape his sister’s wrath. 

Bradley chuckles, realizing how much he missed the twin’s antics before following them, knowing he also had to say hi to Penny and Maverick.

As much as he wanted to avoid Maverick, he knew his dad would be mad at him for not saying hi to his godfather. 

“Oh, my baby boy!” Penny hugs Peyton tightly, just as Aurora caught up to him. Aurora rolls her eyes, as Peyton sighs, realizing he had safely escaped her fury. For now at least.

“I’m not done with him yet, mom!” Aurora hisses at Peyton.

“Now, now little star. You and your brother behave while you’re in the bar. Don’t make me ring the bell.”

“For what?!” both the twins exclaimed.

“For Peyton, disrespecting a lady. For Aurora, disrespecting the Navy.” Penny shrugs, with a mischievous grin.

Both the twins start to protest until Penny reaches for the bell, about to ring it. They stopped arguing, realizing it was best not to piss off their mom.

“That’s better. Oh, Bradley! It’s good to see you as well, hon!” Penny smiles, as she reaches to give Bradley a hug. Peyton and Aurora roll their eyes, knowing the Bradshaw boy was well-admired by Penny. Peyton turns to give his dad a hug.

Aurora stares at Bradley, realizing how much Bradley looked different from a few years ago. His biceps were bulging from the gaudy Hawaiian shirt he wore, and she could feel his chest when they hugged.

Realizing she was still staring, Aurora turned to join Penny behind the bar again, an attempt to calm the blush that was threatening to show on her face. She fanned herself a bit, feeling hot all of a sudden. Aurora couldn’t believe she was ogling at Bradley so outwardly.

“How long are you two here for?” Penny asks both the boys after Bradley had given Maverick a nod, not wanting to interact with him much more beyond that.

“Not sure yet, we’ll know after we find out what our assignment is tomorrow,” Peyton answers his mom.

“Where are you two staying?” Maverick questions both of them, wondering if they were staying on base.

“Mom and dad said we could stay at their house until they come back next week,” Bradley answers, giving a side glance to Maverick, before settling his eyes on Aurora.

Staring at her, he was really seeing how much she had changed since the last time they’d seen each other. He couldn’t help but admire Aurora, watching as she moved about behind the bar, helping her mother. He was full-on ogling her, and as soon as Peyton noticed this, he elbowed Bradley to stop. 

“Wait, I have two spare bedrooms at my place! Just move in with me!” Aurora suggests. 

“Are you sure? We don’t want to be a bother,” Bradley was hesitant and gave Peyton a glance. 

Peyton smiles, as he wouldn't mind sharing a house with his two favorite people. Plus, it would get Peyton more opportunity to get Bradley and Aurora together. He was already plotting out a scheme in his head. 

“Of course! You’d have to share a bathroom though. Oh and I have CJ, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Bradley’s heart sank. Who was CJ? Was it her boyfriend? 

“CJ?” Peyton speaks up for both of them, as they were confused at who Aurora was talking about.

“Oh, yeah, CJ! My emotional support puppy!” Aurora chuckles, realizing what it had sounded like at first, not noticing Bradley’s reaction.

Bradley lets out a sigh. Okay, so not a boyfriend. 

“Wait? Why did you name your dog CJ?” Bradley wonders. Penny laughs, as she hands someone a drink.

“She won’t tell anyone else, but whatever it was, she told Amelia and they laughed for like ten minutes straight.” 

“Well, if you’re okay with it. We’d love to be your two new roommates!” Peyton smiles as Bradley nods along with his statement.

“Wonderful. We’ll settle everything tomorrow then,” Aurora smiles at both of them.

They nod as they realize that work was really starting to pick up for Penny and Aurora at the bar. Bradley and Peyton decide to head back to the pool table where some of the other newcomer aviators had joined the rest. Aurora smiles before giving them a wave.

Before the evening rush could get any worse, Maverick decided to ask Penny to close out his tab for the day. Penny leaves to close it, while Maverick talks to his daughter for a bit. He started noticing Aurora getting a bit apprehensive, chewing her inner cheek.

Reaching out his hand, Maverick offered it to Aurora to ground herself with. Glancing over, there was little hesitation before taking it and slowly taking a few deep breaths. Once calmed enough, she whispered her thanks to him before releasing the grasp.

Penny then comes back with news about his card. 

“It’s been declined,” Penny states. Maverick looks at her in disbelief while Aurora arches a brow in amusement.

“You’re kidding?” Maverick sputters.

Penny shakes her head. Maverick reaches for his wallet, and pulls out a few bills. Glancing at the receipt Penny held in her hand, Aurora’s eyes went wide at seeing the total.

“How about-?”

“That’s not gonna cover it,” Penny shows him the paper. Maverick chokes at the sight and awkwardly chuckles.

“Uh, I’ll come by tomorrow and bring you the cash.”

“I’m afraid rules are rules, Pete,” Penny says as she rings the bell. The crowd cheers at the sound as someone yells overboard.

Aurora groans, feeling second-hand embarrassment that her dad was getting kicked out of the bar, and also the fact her mom had rung the bell.

“Overboard, overboard!” 

Jake, Javy, and Reuben show up behind him. Jake smirks at Maverick, before the three boys lift him out of his seat to throw him out of the bar.

Aurora waves her dad goodbye, as she knew he could handle himself. She wished she could be in the room on Monday when Jake found out that not only did he throw out his instructor for their mission, but Aurora and Peyton’s dad as well. 

“Great to see you, Pete!” Penny waves at Pete being carried away. Aurora uses the rag that was on her shoulder to whack her mom for her stunts. Penny smiles, realizing how much she had actually missed Maverick.

The jukebox soon stops working, and the crowd groans at the lack of music.

Penny sees the Bradshaw boy, followed by her son going towards the bar, before realizing that they had been the ones to unplug the jukebox.

She takes a glance at her daughter who was starting to get a bit restless. Penny knew it wasn’t because she was tired, but the crowd was getting a bit much for her, as Aurora started fiddling with her bracelet again. 

Penny looks through the crowd and sees Bradley and Peyton walk their way towards the two.

“Hey Mama Pen, do you think Aurora can go on her break?” Bradley asks her with a pleading face.

Penny laughs. “She’s done for the night actually, take her for me, will ya Bradshaw?”

“Gladly!” Bradley smiles. Aurora turns upon hearing this.

“Are you sure, mom? I can finish up here-”

“Nonsense, Jimmy and I have it from here. Now go, before I change my mind.” Penny reassures her daughter. She gives Aurora a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to the other side of the bar.

Aurora smiles before putting her rag down, and stepping away from the bar. Bradley grins at her exiting the bar area, before lifting her over his shoulder.

“B! Put me down!”

“You’re coming with us, sweetheart.” Bradley smiles, as Peyton pats his sister’s back before they traipse towards the piano.

Bradley sets her down on the piano bench, while Peyton stands next to her, as Bradley sits on the other side of the bench. He smiles at Aurora before showing off his piano skills, playing a little jazz melody, knowing Aurora was a sucker for jazz. She rolls her eyes, as Peyton leans on her.

Soon a few people joins them.

Nat pats Bradley on the shoulder before turning to introduce herself to the girl sitting next to him.

“I’m Natasha Trace, callsign Phoenix.”

“Aurora Benjamin-Mitchell,” Aurora smiles at the woman shaking her hand.

Nat lights up at the name. No wonder she looked familiar to her. She was the girl in the photo Bradley had in his cockpit every time he flew. Peyton and Bradley always talked about her whenever they had the chance.

They were interrupted as Mickey, Reuben, and Bob came to introduce themselves to the girl.

“Wait, you’re Artemis, right? Apollo’s sister?” Payback asks, as Bradley continues riffing on the piano.

“Unfortunately,” she sighs as Peyton hits her arm.

“Holy crap. Is it true you saved Hangman from a killer?” Mickey asks. Peyton and Bradley turn to Mickey confused. 

“What?!”

“I don’t know, ask him yourself,” Aurora gestures to Jake and Javy who were walking over to join the group. Bradley huffs, scooting closer to Aurora, feeling a bit threatened by Jake's and Aurora’s friendship, knowing he would ask her about it later. 

“Yo, Hangman. Is it true Artemis saved you from a killer?” Mickey repeats the question to Jake when they get closer. Jake laughs and looks at Aurora.

He takes a sip of his beer before nodding at the question. “She brought a knife to a gunfight,” he answers. They all gasp as Aurora rolls her eyes.

“You’re leaving out details,” Aurora says.

“Holy damn, you’re badass. How are you Apollo’s sister?” Natasha wonders out loud.

“Hey!” Peyton protests.

They all laugh. Aurora turns to Bradley who has gone silent, still playing a bit on the piano. She smiles softly before putting her hand on his thigh. He looks up from his hands, meeting her gaze. 

“Great balls of fire?” She asks him.

Bradley smirks. “Only if you sing it with me, princess.”

Aurora nods, and soon Bradley starts off the song.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain

Too much love drives a man insane

You broke my will, but what a thrill

Bradley looks at Aurora and Peyton before they join in with him singing.

Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!

Everyone around them starts singing along, and soon the whole bar starts cheering and singing along as well. 

Outside, Maverick watches all of this happen from outside. He gets flashbacks of him and Goose singing the exact same song, with Bradley and Aurora on top of the piano, and Peyton on Goose’s lap.

He remembers how he almost lost Goose, and how this mission could change almost everything. Maverick wonders if Bradley was ready for the mission, and if he didn’t choose Bradley to fly, what would happen to their relationship? Bradley would never forgive him.

Maverick then looks at his son and daughter and sees their smiles. He hadn’t seen Peyton in a long time, but Maverick was just happy to see Aurora smile since they had left Washington DC. He walks away, leaving them to enjoy their moment. 

Kiss me, baby.

Bradley gestures his head for Aurora to give him a kiss on the cheek, to which Aurora smacks her hands on her lips and uses the hand to push Bradley’s cheek away. Peyton chuckles as Bradley fake pouts at Aurora for not giving him a kiss, but continues on singing. 

Ooh, that feels good, baby

Hold me, baby

I wanna love you like a lover should

You're fine, you're so kind

I'ma tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine

Aurora glances to see Jake nodding along to the song, who was looking at Peyton. Peyton seemed to actively refuse to look his way. Making a mental note of that, she knew she would have to ask her twin about this later.

For now though, she decided she was going to take in this moment, watching the people around her play off of Bradley’s energy.

Kiss me, baby.

Aurora gives Bradley a kiss on the cheek to which he grins and glances at Aurora. 

Ooh, that feels good.

Bradley gives a little fake shudder, as Aurora laughs at his action, singing until they end the song.

Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!

Everyone in the bar cheers for Bradley. He stands up to give a little dance and Aurora shakes her head and laughs.

“Rooster! Rooster!”

Aurora stands up and claps along with everyone as she watches Bradley twirl and give a few more dance moves. Finishing his dance break, Bradley smiled at the scene around him. He glances at Aurora who was standing next to Peyton after the song before dragging the twins into a tight hug.

For now, everything felt right. Not worrying about the past or future, and instead living in the present with each other. 

- - -

If you would like to be on the taglist or removed, please let me know! 

Taglist:  

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—

Disclaimer: This story is fictitious. All works are written by me and only posted here. Please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize on any other platform without my permission!

[rien-maz]

And so, I finished watching this show and you know, dumber than this show can only be the Disney cartoon of the century, for both are storyless, holey, raw and meaningless pictures that make you want to wash your eyes out.

So this is a continuation or addition to the first post about analyzing this "miracle". https://www.tumblr.com/rien-maz/755293709600456704/and-so-i-avoiding-all-spoilers-finished-my

First, I still had hope that Leslie would deign to "plug" the plot holes in the last two episodes, but no, that didn't happen.

After watching, there are still a bunch of questions and here are a few of them:

How did Mei get saved? How did our Sith pretty boy find her? How were the two twins created? Why are they the same person? Why does Darth Plagas show up there? What is his significance? Why doesn't physics work in this show? Why the fuck is Yoda suddenly unable to sense with the jedi force? What role does Mei's mark on her forehead play? Why are the two sisters acolyte? And so it goes on and on ad infinitum.

A little disclaimer: this post will contain rude words and phrases, heaps of sarcasm, and a suggestion that the ratings of this show be collapsed for spitting Leslie Hadland in the face of all Star Wars fans.

Let's start with the seventh episode: Leslie apparently wanted to add action to her terrible picture and filmed a scene of Saul chasing after Mei, trying to mimic Fast and Furious. But!

Before that, I had a question, how does Mei know about the concept of hell? Because I don't remember the star wars universe talking about heaven and hell even once. If my memory serves me correctly, all dead souls "fall into the Force".

Oh yeah, in this fine series we also have the "unkillable protagonist" principle at work, who went through the atmosphere at breakneck speed and didn't even bother to use the Force to slow his fall. Yeah, yeah, screw the basic skills of Force users.

I laughed at the conversation between the Senator and our main antagonist in the form of a green-skinned woman (I didn't even try to remember her name and I won't apologize for that). Did you smell something in that scene?

Oh yes, the romanticization of violence, particularly the dark side of the Force. Leslie, ignoring all the laws of Lucas' universe, made the Sith not the rapists and murderers who are alien to the humanity and compassion that kept slaves during the Emperor's reign on Dromund Kaas, and not only in those times. Even going back to the origins of the Sith, we know that the Sith were a race that lived on Korriban (if I remember correctly), and wow, you wouldn't believe it! They had slaves as a class in society too. Leslie made the Sith the poor saps that crave freedom from Jedi oppression.

Leslie is fucked up if she wants to romanticize those who killed, who betrayed, who plotted against each other, who destroyed, who perverted and who are simply evil in the flesh (the same Nikhilus, Darth Plagas, Darth Bane, Darth Tyranus, Darth Sidious (where else), etc.). Basically, Leslie romanticized Anakin Skywalker's killing of children with such a moment. After all, oh oh oh oh he's a poor guy who chose to be free of a "delusional cult".

Well done! Way to go! Good point, because killing other people is so cool, right, Leslie Hadland? That's what you're doing in this fucking show, saying that all Jedi are fucking egomaniacs who care about their own feelings and emotions (Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi and the rest of the Jedi, along with their codes and teachings, fuck you).

But back to the series and its dumb plot, which there isn't.

Where were we? Oh yeah, on how I'm trashing this whole show and Leslie.

So, let's get on with it. The actors' performance was mentioned in the first post, so I won't repeat for the hundredth time what characters are flat, emotionless and so on. But I will talk about the motivation of the characters, that is, its absence. Seriously, neither the handsome Sith, nor Mei, nor Saul, nor Osha has any motivation. Osha hasn't changed at all since the first episode, she doesn't learn anything and just moves from one point to another just because other characters drag her there.

Zimmir's motivation for taking Acolyte's child as an apprentice is incomprehensible at all, simply because Leslie forgot to tell him what he's for and what powers he has.

I also have a question about the transformation of Oshi's lightsaber from blue to red. Because I only remember about the synthetic crystals that the Sith used to create their sword. But after poking around on the internet, I removed that statement. I didn't get a chance to pick on Leslie, unfortunately.

The biggest complaint about the last two episodes is where Mundi went and why Yoda, being the most powerful Jedi, didn't feel Zimmer cut out a group of Jedi and didn't feel cheated by Rowe (oh! I even remembered her name!) Why does the Jedi High Council care so absolutely nothing about missing and dead Jedi? Oh yeah, Leslie wants to show that, say, look what scum and moral freaks the Jedi are, just selfish!

In general, I could grumble for a long time, but I think you understood the main point and also realized how stupid this series is. As Dmitry Puchkov said "wasted time is a pity. One hundred percent digested feces."

So, in the end, what do we have? Osha and Zimmir's love line; Jedi egomaniacs and the romanticization of violence.

In fact, I suggest that for this spit, no, for the fact that Leslie spit in the face of Star Wars fans, to collapse the rating of this product on all platforms, so that Leslie realized that it is not worth offending fans.

[mistahgrundy]

you know I made that joke post about bbq places only being open barely and selling out real fast but my husband is, at this very moment, 3:30 AM, leaving the house to drive to a place that's an hour away so he can get in line for bbq. It's only open once a week and they sell out of all the good stuff at like 6AM and he's gotta get there before 5AM because after that the line is hundreds of people long. And the lady who runs the place is like 86 so I guess that answers the question of why it opens so early. old people just don't sleep! but also because of her age he has to do this now because damn it's a race against time

Edit: the place opens at 8am apparently but it sells out of stuff by the hundredth person in line usually. He got there at 4:30 and he's like fiftieth in line. Now he's gotta sit there and wait for like three more hours lmao

[clay-cuttlefish]

Finishing out post-Crisis continuity on all Renee's highest notes. I miss her (characterization that was outdated by more than a decade before I started reading)

The Question #37

I am going to eat this.

Shiva and Renee are great here, I love how they both work with the theme of rebirth, but it's Tot's driving emotion being greed that makes this issue so critical to me. He's so consistently restrained, the sensible one to Vic and Renee's burning curiosity, and that facade completely shattering to show that he's just as driven to find answers as they are? Chef's kiss.

Tot is the first person to ever shoot Shiva. David Cain has nothing on the power of old man lunacy.

"Charlie, son... Goodbye..." UNHINGED.

The absolute Question dream team on this one: Dennis O'Neil and Greg Rucka on writing, Denys Cowan on pencils, Bill Sienkiewicz on inks, even Cully Hamner doing the cover.

IT'S THE FIVE HUNDREDTH ISSUE TOO???

I don't have the words so please imagine me biting my hand because the normal chewing stim is not powerful enough to vent the feelings.

It helps/worsens the feelings that this is a single issue with no buildup that comes after a few bad minor appearances and Final Crisis, so I've let my guard down.

Pipeline Chapter One (Tec #854-858)

Into Pipeline now. It's not technically a Renee solo, but it's about miniseries length.

She's got a website! And takes cases!

It's nice to have a return to the classic Question staples of being nosy, fighting thugs, trying to help the vulnerable, and getting shot. Good to end up in the river sometimes, yknow? Not everything can be grand evils and crisis events.

The Eighth Deadly Sin (Batman Annual 27, Tec Annual 11)

Dick is way less uptight about getting help than Bruce, so he calls her in to help with a case.

Not important or anything but it's a good time.

GO (Tec #859-860)

Renee's first relationship with Kate, and their first breakup.

Pipeline Chapter Two (Tec #859-865)

Helena!

Renee and Helena reminiscing over Vic is very sweet. It's nice that he's still important to Helena despite how badly it ended.

Nobody tells either of them anything about the superhero community, apparently.

Love that Renee's broke. Charlie left her a lighthouse and Tot's fairly well off but she doesn't have private jet money.

I like that it calls back to 52 with Veronica Cale before following up on Revelations.

"I believe in friendship." I LOVE YOUUUU

The most powerful forces in the world are friendship and also gay longing.

All the Rage (Tec Annual #12, Batman Annual #28)

I don't like this plot at all, but this is important for Renee bearing the Mark of Cain - it doesn't get followed up on in anything else.

Paralleling the Mark with the double Venus scar Renee has from Gotham Central as two scars that provoke religious rejection.

It's wild to me that I didn't come across this the first time I did my Renee reading. I had interpreted the ending of Pipeline as ambiguous, and her appearance in Convergence without it to mean she never received it, but that's just not at all true.

Extending the metaphor here Dick is a kind of insensitive but generally well-meaning lesbian ally. That checks out.

Generally she's written fine in this. Not amazing but it's solid and it gets the point across.

Marked Woman (Tec Annual #12)

The real Mark of Cain was internalized homophobia the whole time, and the reason she's able to bear it is because she's learned to accept herself.

Adding transformative queer self-acceptance to the list of the most powerful forces in the world.

Hostile Takeover (Birds of Prey #12-13)

Important note: the Question that Helena calls Q as a cute pet name in the comics is Renee. IIRC the only person who calls Vic Q is Ted. Make of this what you will.

Slight variation on the drowning motif - Renee only ends up in the sewer for a moment, but Helena goes apeshit and tries to drown a guy in it, so it counts.

"Our first date." "*Snerk.* Shut up. Nerd." This is just fully gay. They are dating.

It actually pisses me off that this is such a promising setup. I'd be able to handle the New 52 more if Renee was left off right after the Mark of Cain arc, I might be able to convince myself it works as an open-ended "and the adventure continues" for her, but no I have to live with the knowledge she was going to be on the Birds of Prey and be adorable with Helena and then DC blew everyone up.

Guess I'll go fuck myself then.

Danger Drive (Batman 80-Page Giant 2011)

Sneaking in just under the reboot, it's... basically just that time Vic punched the Riddler, but with a different terrible Riddler outfit and a Jeopardy theme. Well. That's disappointing.

If I was less masochistic I'd end the project here, but if I was less masochistic I wouldn't have started it in the first place.

[sealer-of-wenkamui]

Obligatory Danzou’s interlude post because it’s one of my favorite parts of fgo, they really made an interlude just for me, with a large focus on Limbo’s obsession with her (this is an abridged version of the full 70+ message discord thread I made lol)

The fic I always talk about actually has a section that takes place directly before this interlude, showing one of her daydreams which I really like…

Anyway, da Vinci’s comments about Danzou are interesting in that even a genius like her doesn’t exactly know how she works, so I’d imagine Limbo is the second most knowledgable after Kashin Koji themself and maybe the first Fumma too

This interlude also emphasizes that this Danzou knows nothing of Shimousa cause she’s PHH Danzou, so once again the fact that she has a fear of the dark sun stands out to me as Limbo hurting her to such a degree that this Servant version of her fears it despite not remembering him. And I wonder if the virus itself played a role too.

It’s not Limbo proper or even a shikigami but the virus still acts just like him, and it just makes me wish for a scene in Heian-kyo where he tortures Danzou, we could still save her cause as he says, he’s the type to give someone a long agonizing death not kill right away… and especially with his fixation. Also his threat to guda here resembles the materials book line a lot as he’s threatening to keep them beteeen life and death (though I imagine the overt rape threat was too much for the game’s rating)

I really want to see moonflower animated, or at least an illustration cause I love how it sounds… and she talks about it being a cruel technique she dislikes… love how both times she uses it it’s on Limbo

This part with Holmes having known the intention was to restore Danzou’s memory apparently gets taken out of context because even the preceding line here is him saying that it does not tell us why he did it. I find it insulting to her character to try and claim Limbo legitimately wanted to help when right after this he explains his motives and they’re the height of cruelty. With Shimousa backing him up that he means his words, not that he’s one to lie about such things. For the hundredth time, he let her get attached to her companions, forced her body to attempt to kill them, blew her up, and all while mocking her for thinking she had free will and telling her how he screwed with her mind. Also he didn’t even restore her full memory, just let her choose the most precious one to serve his own purpose of learning what it is she cares about most so he can take it from her.

Usually motherly characters don’t interest me much but there’s something about Danzou and Kotarou that’s so good…. A doll that thinks she’s just a machine to pass on the Fuuma arts and hates herself to the point she hides away from the sun, and the boy who treated her as a human and decided she was his mom now, and she was the one person he opened up to… also he too has his whole oni blood thing and in a my room line he’ll talk about how he’s a wretch… so them finding each other is so sweet… it’s good!!!

Best part is the final part though, and it demonstrates a lot of why I’m so obsessed with LimDan. The fact that he goes to so much effort to hunt down another version of the doll he found in Shimousa, give her a virus to restore a single memory so he knows how best to devastate her, then tell her to her face his plans to do so… that’s the sort of fixation I love!! And that he doesn’t seem to hate her necessarily, but he certainly doesn’t love her either, it’s just an obsessive desire to hurt cause he enjoys it, which ultimately stems from his hatred and envy of Seimei, who he can’t surpass, so he goes off mocking and hurting everyone else. And someone like her who reminds him of Seimei is especially pleasurable to hurt so he develops this sort of fixation on her and goes way out of his way to hurt her as much as possible! What the fuck I love it so much. Also I love how he switches entirely to calling her creepy pet names post-Shimousa.

This is a fantastic setup for Heian-kyo too, which makes it all the more frustrating that it completely fumbled everything it was given… the beginning of Heian-kyo has Sion stating that the only two Servants that will have no trouble rayshifting are Danzou and Kotarou. He’s following through on the threats he made here in her interlude… only for them to give some flimsy excuse for Kotarou not to make it and not even have Danzou talk to him much at all… Heian-kyo beginning is also fantastic and promises so much only for it to drop it all as you get to the middle and end… her killing Limbo is exactly how it should be but where was all their conversation leading up to it? It should have been a Danzou-centric chapter and I’ll stand by this, she’s the one most hurt by him.

[sailtomarina]

Opening Lines

Thank you to @biirdiee dearest for tagging me!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (or however many you have, if fewer) posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

Marina Dreams of Dramione, Chp 81, Hermione/Draco, Rated: E, Complete (1k): "Frustration bubbled up from within, threatening to choke her where she lay against the softest sheets she’d ever had the indignity of touching."

Putreuse Potion Confessions, Hermione/George, Rated: T, Complete (1k): “George, you can’t keep doing this!”

Winter’s Respite, Antonin/Hermione, Rated: M, Complete (983): "He breathed in deep, relishing the sting of winter seeping through the cracked window."

A(ntonin's) Valentine Special, Hermione/Antonin, Rated: E, Complete (6k): "It was just Hermione’s luck that every restaurant in the charming little town was packed full; it was Valentine’s Day, after all."

The Artist's Daughter, Hermione/Draco, Rated: G, WIP (7k): "She was here again."

A Dance in the Park, Padma/George, Rated: T, Complete (25k): “Millie, review and confirm numbers for the Prescott’s personal flowers, guest count, and the design scheme."

Teddy's Cottage Carol, Teddy POV, Draco/Harry, Rated: G, Complete (12k): “Happy birthday, Hermione, / Happy birthday to you!”

A Night in Murmansk, Hermione/Antonin, Rated: M, Complete (930): "Hermione asked herself for the hundredth time why she’d let him convince her this would be a good idea, because in no universe were supposed “dancing lights” worth the cold permeating straight through her puffy pink jacket."

Just a Bit of Fluff, Pansy/Ron, Rated: T, Complete (788): "He’d stripped off every stitch of clothing and now stood naked in the bathroom, palms sweaty and a faint itch at his collarbone that he ignored."

Raise a Toast, Hermione/Draco, Rated: M, Complete (3k): "The champagne on his tongue might as well have been water for all the little that Draco tasted. His attention was elsewhere, or, more accurately, on someone."

Soooo, I write a lot of Hermione POV :D That's okay with me, bc I adore her! I apparently also like seeing her with just about anyone ;) I'm horrid at analyzing my own writing, but from what I can see, I usually don't open with dialogue, though there are a few exceptions. I also tend to open with some sort of pronoun or proper noun. Is that bad? I dunno! Feel free to point out any other tendencies I'm overlooking; I'll appreciate it!

And now, tagging @scarlet-it-was (no pressure if tag games aren't your thing).

[blackholelynn]

His Salvation - Part Two

<- Read Part One

Summary: You have left your old life behind and started over with Dean, but you soon realize that you know almost nothing about the hunter you now live with.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Nightmares, aftermath of grief/loss, description of suffocation, swearing - these warnings are for the series of part as a whole, so while some of these warnings may not apply on this part, they will apply for future parts.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: It's so nice to be able to upload weekly again 😭 And I'm hoping to keep that rolling if at all possible, even after this series is over. I'm not promising anything, but to be able to post semi-regularly again would make me so happy!!

Series Tag List: @leigh70

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tag List: @siospins2

Supernatural Tag List: @hobby27

Also cross-posted to my AO3, you can read it here!

~~~

You woke up the following day for about the hundredth time, your bleary eyes being assaulted by the bright red light of the clock on the bedside table. The time it showed was too late to justify going back to sleep, so you groaned and sat up in the bed. The other half of the bed was cold, which made it evident that Dean was already up and had been for some time. It had been a while since you had woken up alone, and a sense of unease fell over you.

With your shared bedroom empty, you got dressed and searched for the other inhabitants of the bunker. Hushed, irritated voices floated down the hallway once you exited the bedroom, and you thought that would be as good a place to start as any. You followed them through the maze of corridors and into the library.

Both of the Winchester brothers were sat across from each other at one of the tables, and a man in a trenchcoat was leaning against the head of the table with a clearly irritated expression. “I need you both for this.”

“And I told you that we can’t, alright?” Dean’s voice was tight and irritated, a tone that he had used more often lately. “We’re taking care of something else right now.”

“Which would be?” you asked. You walked further into the room and sat beside Dean, leaning back in your chair as you awaited his response. He only looked back at you with a look that reminded you of a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It would’ve been cute had the atmosphere been a bit lighter.

The man in the trenchcoat narrowed his eyes before staring pointedly at Dean. “Is this what you’re taking care of?”

“Hey!” You shot out of your seat, pointing an accusatory finger at the strange man. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but don’t talk about me like I’m not even here! And I don’t need taken care of, thank you!”

“Alright, alright,” Dean grumbled, standing up and putting himself between the two of you. He placed both hands on your shoulders, trying to calm you. “This is Castiel. He’s a friend.”

“Speak for yourself. He’s kind of a dick.”

Sam sputtered as he tried to hold back his laughter, quickly excusing himself from the room. You could hear his heavy footsteps hurry down the hallway before the faint bark of his laughter carried back into the library. Dean, however, did not find your statement to be as amusing. His mouth was turned down in a frown, and now he had you feeling like the guilty child.

Dean’s hands slid from you to the stacked books on the table as he picked them up and started putting them away. “Yeah, well, he’s an angel, so I’d behave.” He couldn’t even meet your eyes as he continued to tidy up, which was a behavior that was entirely unlike him.

You were so concerned that the meaning of his words didn’t even register. “He may be an angel to you, but I have every right to make my own decision.”

“No, I’m talking angel, as in warrior of God!” His exasperation was apparent, and he abandoned his chore entirely, seemingly so fed up with the conversation that he had to leave. “Just make nice, you two. I’ll get lunch.”

With that, the door slamming echoed around the deathly silent room, and you made awkward eye contact with the angel at the other end of the table. He was clearly brooding, and he vanished into thin air without another word. You groaned and collapsed into one of the chairs, burying your head in your hands.

What the hell did you get yourself into? I mean, really? Hunting? Angels??

Your inner monologue was becoming more and more self-deprecating as you basked in the room's silence. It seemed that any time to yourself was spent agonizing about Dean, worrying about the dangers outside, or questioning your previous choices. You tried to think back to when you actually enjoyed a moment of solitude. You couldn’t think of one.

“This is bullshit,” you muttered as you stood up so forcefully that your chair nearly clattered to the ground. Without another moment, another thought crossing your mind, you bolted for the front door of the bunker. You weren’t sure where you were going or what you wanted to do, but if it meant that you would have a change of scenery, anything would work.

“Have a nice day!” The waitress of the local diner chirped as she handed Dean the bag filled with to-go containers. It smelled of fried food and maple, a heavenly concoction that assured him he had made the right choice. He hoped that by the time he got home, you and Cas would’ve made up, and you could all share a meal together.

He was also just excited about the chance to leave the bunker for a while. The Winchesters had stayed in the bunker since you had joined them, considering that Dean wanted you to stay where it was safe. He knew you would like to take a hunt eventually, but he would prolong that for as long as possible.

The Impala purred as he drove down the open road, something he missed greatly. However, his bliss was abruptly halted when he saw you looking haggard and trudging along the side of the road just half a mile from the bunker.

Without pause, he pulled the car over to the road’s shoulder with a screech and jumped out. “What the hell are you doing out here on the side of the road?!”

“Getting some air,” you replied, leaning against the guard rail to catch your breath. Dean was by your side in an instant and intensely observing you for any signs of injury. While he still held your face in his hands, you tilted your face up with your eyes closed to take in the sunny sky. “It’s nice to be outside for a change instead of underground.”

“Seriously?” Dean’s expression changed from distressed to frustrated in the blink of an eye. “Did you even think to tell Sam or Cas where you were going? To grab anything to protect yourself with?”

You pushed his hands away from you, a scowl taking place on your face. “I can handle myself. What the hell would even be out here in broad ass daylight in the middle of nowhere?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

The rift between the two of you was growing by the very second as Dean tried to calm himself while you processed his words. He’d only left you with half a sentiment, but he couldn’t manage to voice his frustrations any further.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes when you finally stopped trying to muddle through his exact meaning. “Great. So what exactly are you talking about? Is it my desire to leave a dank old bunker from the early nineteen hundreds to see the sun, or is it my willingness to live my life a little bit?”

“Forget it,” he muttered, turning back towards the car.

But you were hot on his heels, and you wrenched on the sleeve of his flannel to stop him. “No, enlighten me on what is making you so upset!”

“You!” He turned around so fast that you took a step back. “You keep pretending you can have some semblance of your old life, but that stopped when you decided to become a hunter. You want to do this job? Then forget about having a moment where you’re not looking over your shoulder. Forget about sleeping through the night without a nightmare. We’re always on the job.”

He was beyond erratic, a vein in his neck bulging that you had never seen before. You had thought you had seen Dean through a lot, considering the circumstances around when you met, but you quickly realized that was not the case. You’d barely scratched the surface of who Dean Winchester really was.

And you ran away with him, states away.

The consequences of your actions started sinking in as he stood in front of you, basically berating you like a child. Every part of you froze as you realized this was who you’d signed up to be with. Would it always be like this? You thought back to Sam’s advice the other night, realizing it was a sugar-coated version of what Dean was harshly shouting about now.

Without another word, you shoved past him towards the car, stopping just before you got into the passenger seat. “Let’s just get back.”

For a moment, he stood still where he was on the road, but eventually, he followed you back to the car and started it without another word. Dean attempted to turn on the radio to break up the tension, but you turned it right back off with a flick. Once you arrived, you took your food and returned to a room inside the bunker to eat.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, and Sam spoke up as he fished his lunch from the bag. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up,” the older Winchester gruffly responded.

Sam tossed him the burger left in the bag and sat down at the table to eat. “Fine, but you better not mess this up. I like her.” After a furious glare from Dean, Sam threw up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying that she makes you less insufferable, and she’s funny.”

Dean didn’t answer and instead began eating his food, but the corners of his mouth turned up just the slightest bit. You were funny, and Sam did have a point that you smoothed out all of his rough edges. He would have to apologize to you after you cooled off, maybe even take you shooting. That would at least be a start.

However, when he went looking for you, you were nowhere to be found. You weren’t in the library, his room, the guest rooms, or even the war room. Dean felt like his heart dropped to his stomach until he found a small note that was left on the kitchen counter.

Dean,

I’m sorry that you’re getting this as a Dear John letter, but I don’t think I would be able to have this conversation face-to-face. I assumed a lot of things when we met, mostly about what your life was like and what you and Sam do for a living. I’m seeing pretty clearly now that I don’t know anything about hunting or being a hunter, and no matter how much I want to understand, I can’t if I stay sheltered in the bunker. Since you won’t teach me, I’ll have to learn on my own.

I’m sorry.

The notebook paper crumpled in his grip as his fingers tightened around your note. His mind filled to the brim with all of the gruesome fates you could find yourself in if you decided to leave and hunt alone, and the weight of his panic made it feel like he was drowning.

“Sam!” Dean’s frantic voice echoed loudly through the bunker, and Sam’s heavy footsteps were quick as he sprinted into the room. Dean limply handed over the note to his younger brother, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s gone.”

Sam’s eyes skimmed the letter in seconds before he laid it on the kitchen table with a sigh. “Sounds like she’s going to try and hunt on her own.”

“Which will get her killed.” Dean began pacing around the kitchen, which indicated a level of worry that Sam didn’t often see from his brother. Finally, Dean advanced past Sam towards the hallway. “We need to find her.”

“Alright. Let’s start looking.”

Sam followed his brother through the hallways and back towards the library, confident they would be in for a long night of mostly fruitless searching. While you may not have been familiar with hunting, Sam knew that you would be smart enough to make finding you no easy task.

They both made their way to the library, setting up a small “command center” where they would be able to look for you. Sam started to work on his laptop, trying to use your phone to find your location, while Dean busied himself looking for clues in police reports and newspapers to your whereabouts. Hours passed with the Winchesters having nothing to show for their efforts.

“Damn it!” Dean yelled, slamming his phone down on the table. Sam winced as he heard the slight splinter and knew they would have to get him yet another phone. He tried not to bring too much attention to the outburst and instead focused on trying to track your number.

Sam finally grumbled as he closed his laptop. “She’s smart. She probably ditched the phone because I’m not getting anything when I try to find her using its GPS.”

“So, how else can we find her?”

“Dean, there’s not much else we can do unless we put an APB out on her, and I doubt she would be very happy about that. Not to mention that getting her arrested is the last thing we want.”

Dean started pacing around the war room, one hand on his head as his mind reeled for solutions, and then a dawning realization hit him. “A location spell.”

“You really want to resort to a location spell?” Sam was dumbfounded at the lengths that Dean wanted to go to. He understood his older brother's concerns, but the desperation and disregard of your wishes started to rub Sam the wrong way. “Dean, if she doesn’t want to be found, should we really be looking this hard? We can have Cas keep an eye on her to make sure she isn’t hurt.”

“You think I haven’t been praying to Cas? He hasn’t been answering! Who else is going to look out for her if we don’t?!” Dean leaned over the table and angrily stabbed his finger into the wooden surface in front of Sam. “Look, just find me the strongest location spell you can, and then we’re doing this.”

Sam continued searching on his laptop in silence, and without any other options to think of, Dean retreated to his room. They had spent countless hours searching for you already, and the day had flown by in the chaos of it all. He looked at the clock and felt his body grow heavier, realizing it was now the wee hours of the morning.

This erratic sleep schedule had never bothered him before, what with being on late-night hunts and all, but since you had arrived at the bunker, his days seemed to fall back into simplistic normalcy. Go to bed at a decent hour, wake up to eat breakfast together, watch tv, eat dinner together, and go to bed – it was all a routine he thought he would never have again.

As soon as he crawled into bed, he regretted the decision immediately. The scent of you still clung to the sheets and pillows, and the empty side of the mattress only seemed to taunt him. He wrapped his arms around your pillow, clutching it to his chest as though it held the key to his survival, and he did it without thinking. When it came to you, he did everything without thinking as though it were as easy as breathing. When his life had been a series of hard decisions and challenging obstacles, it had been nice to have something so natural for a change.

An hour later, Sam heard Dean’s footsteps cross the hall before the door slammed closed to one of the guest rooms.

You woke up the next morning, your arms still clutching at the other pillow that was left on the motel bed. Considering the unfamiliar environment and exhaustion clouding your judgment, it took you a moment to figure out why the sheets were scratchier than usual. The typical smell of leather and aftershave that reminded you exclusively of Dean was no longer there.

You’ll have to get used to this. You shouldn’t have gotten used to him in the first place.

Ignoring your critical inner monologue, you readied yourself for the upcoming day. You knew that Dean would try to follow you, if not only to ensure you were safe, so you had to keep moving. The night prior, you had stopped at the first motel you saw when your eyes started drooping, so you were nowhere near far enough away yet. At least you had the forethought to ditch your phone before you left.

You packed up the meager amount of belongings you had taken with you, and as you placed your clothes back into your bag, the familiar feeling of flannel sent a pang through your chest. You had accidentally grabbed one of Dean’s flannels rather than your own, and to make matters worse, it was his counterpart of a matching pair that you had found.

Stop it. Get rid of it.

But you hesitated as you had it halfway pulled from its place in your travel bag. When a knock sounded, you hurriedly rushed to the door with the shirt still clutched in your hand. You looked through the peephole.

The man from the front desk pounded on your door before trying to peer into the peephole from the other side. “Hey! Checkout was two hours ago! You gonna get movin’, or you gonna pay for an extra night!?”

“Sorry!” You hauled your bag onto your shoulder and opened the door, an apologetic smile plastered onto your face. “I’ll be getting out of your hair now. Must’ve overslept.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, already making his way back to his tiny, dingy office.

Without interruption, you would’ve gladly let him, but another predicament reared its head as you thought more about your situation. “Actually, would you happen to know where I might be able to catch a bus or cab to the next town over?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Google it.”

“I don’t have a–”

“Like I said, don’t care.” He barely looked back over his shoulder as he said, “See ya!” The door of his office slammed behind him. You were left standing in the hallway, unsure exactly where you were, what you needed to do to go, and how you would get to the next destination.

You had…”borrowed” a car from the garage in the bunker, but you knew that would be all too easy to trace. You needed another form of transportation that was untraceable and fast. The thought crossed your mind to get an Uber, but without a phone, that wasn’t an option. You were in a rural town, so the idea of public transportation was likely out.

Then your eyes caught sight of an old car in a perfectly secluded corner of the parking lot. Had anyone told you just a few months ago that you would be in the middle of nowhere at a rundown motel debating on whether to steal a car or not, you would’ve told them that they were crazy. You hadn’t nearly been killed a few months ago, though, and back then, the simple fear of clocking in twenty minutes late made your skin crawl.

You had never stolen a car before in your life, but considering you had no other options, it seemed that it was a skill you would learn. The first step was to open the door, which was a painfully easy task considering the door wasn’t locked. You had only seen Dean steal a car once before, and you were about to wrack your brain for the memory when you spotted the glinting metal of a key in the cupholder.

When the key turned in the ignition and started the car, you scoffed in disbelief under your breath, “What a dumbass.”

It felt like your lucky day as you pulled out of the parking lot and started down the road, ready to see where it would take you. You rubbed the flannel fabric of your oversized sleeves between your thumb and forefinger before it dawned on you what you were wearing. You hadn’t even realized that you had shrugged on Dean’s flannel until that moment, but you didn’t take it off. Despite all your best attempts at denial, it was hard to deny that it offered the comfort you desperately needed.

Read Part Three ->

[surreality51]

For the fedal promp thing, maybe fedal with the Federer children or meeting babyrafa? 🥺

You know, funny you should mention the Federer children, because I just happened to have a ficlet sitting on my laptop that includes guest appearances from the Federer children. You've inspired me to finish it. Here you go:

Roger didn’t mean to build a compound for himself and Rafa along the shores of Lake Zurich. It certainly didn’t start out that way. How it really started was with the idea that he wouldn’t mind doing mini coaching sessions every now and then in his retirement, especially with young up-and-coming players, but not full-time coaching and the tour travel that came with it. No, he promised Mirka and the kids that he would stay home for a while, get adjusted to life after the tour, do some more biking and hiking, and keep working on his knee. But during one of the Laver Cup post-match interviews, he mentioned the idea of inviting young players to visit him at home in Switzerland for short coaching stints. He didn’t think much of it at the time; it was a throwaway comment in the midst of the media blitz around his retirement. Plus, he invited young pros all the time to be his practice partner when he was training in Dubai or before tournaments. It wasn’t like this was new.

Much to his surprise—but not Tony’s or Mirka’s, or apparently anyone else on his team—the inquiries started coming in immediately.

Exponentially.

Torrentially.

“Roger,” said Tony, pinching the bridge of his nose, “what were you thinking? Of course people are going to be interested in being coached by you. Why would you even throw that out there as a possibility if you’re not really interested in it right now?”

Roger shrugged. “I meant in the future, in a ‘never say never’ type of way. How was I supposed to know that people would take it literally?”

“Roger,” Tony growled, as his phone pinged for the hundredth time that hour. “It’s not rocket science. The ball kids could’ve seen this coming. The janitor could’ve seen this coming. The fucking fish & chips guy outside the O2 could’ve seen this coming.”

“Oh, you got chips from Mick recently? How are his daughters?”

“They’re good, the older one is at university now and—hey, don’t deflect, I’m not done being pissed at you.”

Tony swatted at him. Roger cackled and ducked behind Seve.

The inquiries and entreaties pouring in were endless: When would he be able to take on a student? How many would he be willing to take at a time? This one was willing to travel here from the US, that one all the way from Argentina. So-and-so was a future number one, if only Roger would work with him. Tony looked like he wanted to flatten Roger with the sheer power of his exasperation as he politely fielded all the calls, emails, texts, and, on one memorable occasion, a swan ice sculpture delivered to the Team8 office with the inquiry folded in its beak. Roger couldn’t do anything besides shrug sheepishly. 

But the idea still appealed to him: the notion that he could have the best of both worlds, stay involved by helping young players evolve and also have dinner with his family every night. So in between making waffles with the kids, hitting the ball around on local practice courts, rehabbing his knee, and attending to his sponsorship duties—one aspect that certainly had not slowed down despite his retirement—the idea started to take form in his mind. The players would definitely need to come to him here, they would need to stay for at least a few weeks at a time, and it would need to be somewhere close. But he also knew that not every promising young player could afford to live out of a hotel or rented house for several weeks in his multimillion franc neighborhood. He decided early on that he didn’t want money or means to be a barrier for talent. But where would they stay? And what about their parents, coaches, or other members of their team?

It became obvious that if Roger was serious about this, then he would need to provide room and board. Somewhere close by, ideally walking distance, or maybe even on his property. They already had one guest house planned for their new home that was under construction. Maybe they could repurpose that, and there would need to be a gym attached, and—

“No, not next to the court. Nobody wants to feel like they’re sleeping on a tennis court,” said Mirka.

She was slicing some fruit for breakfast, her hair pulled back in an immaculate bun but the rest of her still wrapped in a robe.

Roger opened his mouth but Mirka cut him off.

“Nobody sane wants to sleep on a tennis court,” she amended, her hands moving efficiently with the knife.

Roger grinned and popped a bite of cinnamon roll into his mouth.

“Okay, what if we set it a little back, along the back line of our plot? Maybe create a little walking path down to the court. They’ll have some privacy; you can’t even see the main house from back there because of the trees.”

“Roger,” she said, patiently, “we talked about you retiring from the tour. We did not discuss you bringing the tour home with you.”

“But what if they followed me home? I can’t just leave them out in the cold. Have some pity.”

A corner of Mirka’s lips curled up against her will. “No.”

Roger groaned dramatically. Mirka serenely deposited the fruit into the bowl.

“Fine,” he said, draping himself over her back and nuzzling her neck, his arms encircling her waist. “I’ll just have to sneak them in behind your back. Secretly put them up in the guest house. Slip out for midnight practice sessions while you sleep. Come back all sweaty with flimsy excuses.”

That got a derisive huff out of her. “If you can arrange a secret tennis affair behind my back, much less on our property without my knowing, I will be impressed.”

Roger conceded that she had a point.

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

Of course, Mirka wasn’t truly against the idea. If she really was, she would’ve made that clear right from the start. Roger knew from all these years that she liked to work through the logistics on her own first. He just needed to wait, and she would come back with a full 5-year plan.

“What about for their parent or coach? Not everyone wants to live with their team in the same house,” she said from the couch, laptop propped open on the arm.

“Two guest houses, then,” Roger replied easily as he scanned the live scores on his phone. “And their own pool.”

“Oh? You realize that they’re here to work, not for holiday.”

“True, but it’s nice to have a long soak after a hard day of playing tennis against the great Roger Federer, and I don’t want them to have to use our jacuzzi.”

That earned him a snort.

“So now we’re talking about two guest houses plus a building with a gym, a pool, and a jacuzzi for your prospective students.”

Roger hummed, distracted. Schwartzmann really did need to work on his serving.

“Maybe three guest houses—one for them, one for their trainers, and one for extras like parents or tutors,” he said.

“Uh huh. Anything else? No courtesy car? Cafeteria? Sauna?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to spoil them,” said Roger, judiciously.

Mirka laughed.

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

Planning and construction on the two guest buildings took about 18 months from start to finish, and then putting in all the furnishings and finishing touches took another 5 months. Roger started thinking about them as cottages instead of guest houses and the open area they clustered around as the village square. Over the course of the construction, he sometimes found himself telling the kids that he was “going down to the village” to check the progress.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if you’re subconsciously trying to build your own mini Manacor here,” said Mirka one evening on the couch after dinner, after the dishes were put away and everyone had retired to the living room with various books, screens, or textbooks—in the case of the children—in hand.

Roger nearly choked on his coffee.

“Wh-what makes-you say that?” he wheezed, setting his mug down on the coffee table before he got hot liquid where hot liquid should not go.

Mirka considered her own coffee for a moment.

“Well, the guest houses are nearly ready to go, and yet you haven’t talked to me or Tony at all about who you’d want to be your first student. Normally you’d already have a vision for who you want to invite first, when to extend the invitation, how you’d want to go about the coaching, and all the other details.”

“That’s because the cottages weren’t done yet,” he replied, summoning his most reasonable tone, because that was an absolutely reasonable reason.

“And now they are,” Mirka returned evenly, “or they will be by the end of next week. Normally you would’ve been going on and on about this project during the whole construction. You should be so excited about it that I’d have to tell you to go pester Tony instead. Has something changed? The only thing I can think of is that you don’t want to have students here anymore. Which means you had another purpose in mind for those houses, or else you wouldn’t have built them.”

“No, no, I still want students in there.”

Mirka gave him a look that suggested he refrain from insulting her intelligence. “You’ve always had a very strict boundary between work and home. Tennis is your public life, and you never bring your work home with you. That’s why I was surprised when you first suggested inviting young players to stay at our home, but I figured it was worth giving a try, so I didn’t say anything at the time. I was surprised when you wanted to build a full tennis court in the back too. You’ve always practiced at the local courts, because of the separation between your tennis life and home life. Now, suddenly, after all these years, you want to bring work home with you? I don’t think you really wanted to build those guest houses for prospective students, Roger.”

“Maybe it’s for the girls,” he tried.

The truth was, Mirka was right, and it bothered him because he was always very intentional about his decisions. It was unlike him to commit to something without fully understanding his reasons. He thought this was what he had wanted. Now he realized that, while he had kept the needs of a professional tennis player in mind during the design and construction of the guest houses, he hadn’t envisioned what it would be like to have a student actually living there once construction was finished. And it was because he still thought of the guest houses as part of his home, which meant family and close friends, not prospective students and their teams, who would be like strangers.

So if the guest houses were for family and friends, who did he really build them for? There was a tiny, niggling feeling in the vicinity of his chest that he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“The girls are getting older now,” he continued. “Someday soon they’ll need their own space, away from their uncool parents. This way they can at least be close by.”

Mirka rolled her eyes.

“I know the girls being 16 now is probably setting off all sorts of internal alarms, but you realize that just because you build houses for them doesn’t mean they’re not going to move out some day. You had already moved out by their age.”

“Yeah, and look how far that’s gotten me,” Roger said, gesturing at Robert reading a book on the other couch.

Robert very obviously ignored that with the wisdom of an experienced parent.

Mirka did too. She had over 24 years of experience pinning Roger down, figuratively and sometimes literally.

“If the houses aren’t for the kids when they grow up, then who are they for?”

Roger was quiet for a long while. He kept his eyes fixed in the distance and sipped his coffee. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft.

“Rafa is probably going to retire at the end of this year or next. He’s 39 now, you know.”

To some, it might seem like a non-sequitur, but Mirka knew instantly what he meant.

“Oh, Roger.”

She moved closer to him on the couch until they were leaning against each other, Mirka with her legs tucked up against his.

Roger sighed and leaned his head against hers.

“The first year is probably going to be fine for him,” he said. “He has the Academy, his foundation, the sponsors, his family. He’ll need at least the first year to decompress, just like I did. I think it’s the second or third year that might be hard for him. The tennis starts to fade because you’re not training as much. Because there’s no reason to.”

Mirka linked her arm with his and patted him comfortingly.

“He could use a friend and rival then,” she offered. “Someone on his level. The Academy kids are great, but it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, just like he already knew that the young players he thought about coaching would not be the same. “Maybe we don’t have to visit him all the time in Mallorca. He can come visit us as well, bring the family, bring the kids. Stay for a while in the summer when it’s nice here. He’ll like the lake and the hiking.”

“You miss him.”

“Yeah.”

Mirka curled against his shoulder.

“You know you love him,” she said softly.

“Yes, of course I love him,” Roger said easily.

Mirka slanted a look at him like she was questioning his intelligence. “Rogi, you know what I mean. You don’t just love him, you’re in love with him.”

“I—.” He paused, careful, unsure where this was going but sensing dangerous territory. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Mirka rolled her eyes. “Rogi, don’t—don’t lie to yourself.”

He turned to study her face, brows furrowed. “Why are you saying this?”

“Dad, we could see your star-crossed romance from our box the whole time,” Myla interjected from the study desk by the window.

“Everyone in the stadium saw it on the big screen at your retirement. The whole Internet saw it,” Lenny snorted, not looking up from his homework.

“You guys were not subtle,” Charlene sniffed with the supreme confidence of a teenage girl when it came to analyzing other people’s love lives.

“What? What are you guys talking about?” Roger said, looking between them, but it sounded unconvincing even to his ears.

“Don’t worry, he feels the same about you,” Charlene said. “I caught him checking out your ass like ten times last summer when we were in Manacor.”

“What?! Wait a minute. He was not—I don’t think he would—are you sure? You didn’t tell me about any of this.”

“Yes, I’m sure, yes it was gross cuz you’re my dad, and of course I didn’t tell you. He tried to play it off, but he totally was. Myla caught him too”—Myla shrugged when Roger glanced at her—“plus he bribed me with a family outing on his boat if I kept quiet and didn’t tell you.”

Roger remembered that boat outing. It had been a fantastic day, but that was beside the point. “And so you lied to me and kept this from your dad?”

“Yeah, but I at least told Mom.”

Roger turned toward Mirka, who shrugged. He turned back to his family, his face halfway between incredulity and indignation.

“Who else knows about this?”

Every single hand went up—both girls, the boys, Mirka, even his own mom and dad.

“Everyone on Uncle Rafa’s side knows too,” Leo added helpfully.

“So I’m the only one who didn’t know?”

Mirka patted his arm sympathetically. “It’s not your fault. You assume and easily accept that everyone likes you, but you’ve always had a hard time accepting when people love you.”

Roger stared at his family, who all stared back at him expectantly. Finally, he threw his hands up. “Well what am I supposed to do with this knowledge now?”

Myla shrugged. “I think this is the part where the music kicks in and you run into each other’s arms and start making out in the rain. But that’s, like, eww, cuz you guys are old.”

Roger looked from his kids to his parents to Mirka and wondered how this conversation got so far off the rails. “How are you guys not shocked or bothered by this?”

Lenny rolled his eyes. “Dad, we’ve been calling him ‘Uncle Rafa’ since we were little. I thought he actually was my uncle until I was 8. I think I was more surprised to learn he wasn’t actually related to us than I was when I saw found out you two had the hots for each other.”

Roger could feel his face turning red. “I do not have 'the hots’ for anyone.”

Now it was Charlene’s turn to roll her eyes. “Dad, please. My friends were texting me links to the Tennis Channel Valentine’s post of you and Uncle Rafa. Some of those photos were from back before I was even born.”

Roger turned to Mirka helplessly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Mirka said, coming to the rescue. “Everyone back to their homework.”

[kwangyadetective]

🔭 The Visions: A Corrupted and Blinding Dream (Phantom)

A theory post discussing about what happened in WayV’s ‘Phantom’ music video and a its possible little connection with Ten’s Birthday.

(!) WARNING: This is a theory as it is not confirmed by SM entertainment nor members of NCT, so please don’t believe this 100%!

I have this little fear inside of me, what if a member will reveal a hint of the lore that happened in the MV :” It will either lead me into making a new post or... I don’t know this is just a theory anyways. But lets get started!

After rewatching the MV for the hundredth time (not just because I love it), I finally got what was happening. I sort of read some theory threads too on Twitter since there is a media reference to this comeback, which is the Phantom of the Opera that unfortunately I don’t really have much knowledge of. But first of all, I’m going to give you a link of the twitter thread I found that discusses the references to the musical, Tweet Thread Link. It actually gave me some ideas when typing this.

 As for this post, I will be talking about the SMCU side.

“Ten the puppeteer, whose evil side is dominating him, nearly has the members in his grasp through a fake dream but Winwin is there to stop it.”

1. Ten’s Wish

You may also read more on this on Ten’s Birthday post.

Although it is still unknown of what he really wanted to fulfill, in both Miracle track video and Birthday MV, he was blowing a candle. Considering his solo title called ‘Birthday’, it is not far-fetched to be connected to the fact that we do make a wish before blowing candles during birthday parties. But this wish is nearly fulfilled and it is apparent by two things; the dream that they are in is an illusion or fake, and some members are affected by it.

“Like a phantom that be pulling my strings

Hey-yo hey-yo, the puppeteer tugs, and

In darkness, the world loses its way”

There were many scenes of Ten, he was even the first to appear in the MV and looked the most villain-like (in a way). Especially that one scene where he walks into the room that the others were already in, it seems he knew the place already. He is the main phantom.

2. Fake Dream

It has been mentioned multiple times that the dream they are in is fake.

“A vile night, but it can’t make real what’s fake”

“Dream is a trickster hiding what’s real”

The members realize that it is not real and the reason it isn’t is because they are wearing the masks.

“See through it all from behind the mask

Only I can see the truth so crazy

Look as if there is no mask

The light of truth was never lost”

“A hazy vision of the future feels only like Déjà vu

An absurd revelation of something fake” Read More at http://lyricskpop.net

“Through the chaos feeding on fear”

This dream they are experiencing too is somewhat dreadful to the members and it surrounds them with their fears. That is somewhat based on what I got from the lyrics too, and it is symbolized by the chandelier which I will be talking about later on.

The Phantom mask from the musical is known to only cover half of the face, and I think this choice is interesting since Ten has a history of being associated with one eye. But in here, the masks that are used cover both eyes which would function properly if its function here is to mask the members from the reality. Unlike in the musical where the mask is used to cover the weaknesses of the phantom, here it is used to blind the members.

3. Hendery

I believe that all members (except for Xiaojun), were already affected by it as seen in one scene where all members were holding Xiaojun in masks but Hendery was definitely the most suspicious one. From the last set of pictures, it was shown that only he and Ten has their pictures somewhat blurred. A theory I made about these blurred pictures from Jaehyun’s Forever Only post is that the member is not being himself or corrupted/ under someone’s control.

From one scene of the MV where there are black cat/panther’s eyes behind him (plus his odd eye), I theorized that it has something to do with Ten because in NCT2018 Yearbook, Ten was holding a black cat... This may need more backing... but another thought is that the animal could possibly have a similar role to the snake that has been around in SMCU. In the end, the masks on his face (oddly he has many) disappeared after Winwin rescued everyone, it may seem like he is the most influenced under the villain (whether it was caused by Ten or just the cat). I also have a speculation there is another story for him which involves Jalapeno... but only the SM staffs and Hendery know that...

4. Xiaojun

It has been theorized by people that Xiaojun has the role of the main protagonist of the musical. It was mentioned that the main protagonist saved herself by either lighting a fire or by a fire that happened(?) and people connected it by this one picture of Xiaojun who was holding some kind of lighter.

Initially I thought this was the same case as NCT127′s Favorite pictures and aespa’s Hallucination Quest pictures where they are in the villain (snake’s) area. However, now I see that instead of Xiaojun being in the grasp of the villain, he is protecting himself. This is pretty evident because he was holding the lighter himself unlike the 127 and aespa’s pictures. This is why he seems to be the only one targeted in the MV because possibly he was the only one left that is not that affected by the fake dream.

5. Winwin

Winwin was the one who break free from the dream, or was strong enough to take action. Something along the lines of that. He shot a dagger to the heart that was chained. There is a possibility that the heart belongs to Ten? If that is the case, does that mean he came back to normal? perhaps we’ll find out about this in the next comeback...

6. Chandelier and Moon

According to the musical, the chandelier is the metaphor of bad omen that surrounded the members with fears which makes this dream to be dreadful (citing this from the Twitter thread). As Winwin shoots the heart with a dagger, it fell to the ground and changed the entire atmosphere of the room. This reveals the real look of the room.

The place where the moon was present, could be a specific area in the Neos’ dreamscape. The moon was red because there was a presence of a villain and turned yellow, which means that it turned back to normal... I think.

The Ending?

It was rather confusing to me because in the end the members wore the masks again and stayed in the room. Unless that was just meant to be in between the scenes and just for a cooler ending, could it be that it ended well? Winwin and Ten were the only ones that wore this mask, so does that mean he’s in the side of good now?... we’ll have to see the next comeback.

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In the end, I love the MV BUT I still can’t believe they didn’t put a SINGLE MIRROR. It was only in Xiaojun’s teaser... and I thought it was the important element but here we are. We’ll see the next part of the story in their next comeback~