#At least he had some semblance of a safety plan

[loathsomescavenger]

If you’re ever looking at an OSHA or other work regulation and it seems like the most ridiculous and stupid thing a person could ever do. Just remember it was written because someone did that thing. And worse yet there are people desperate to follow in their footsteps.

I say this remembering the time a coworker accidentally dropped the trash bin in the compactor when emptying it and wanted me to hold his feet so he could crawl down the chute after it.

[sephirothsplaything]

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 15

A/N: i'm ngl this chapter is short,but packed with a lot! I hate writing short chapters but here we are. There are a few new people reading this story and I wanna say thank you for loving Rhaella(because she fucking needs it)

read the last chapter here!

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen the I;the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond,Cregan,slight Jace,slight Addam,original charecter

PATHETIC WAS THE WALK BACK TO DRAGONSTONE. Rhaella's feet dragged in the sand. She had kidded herself into believing mayhaps all her suffering would at last be rewarded.

Perhaps she should have followed Rhaena to the Vale. At least then nobody would continue to question her progress, or lack thereof.

It seemed she was not the only one encapsulated in gloom. The Prince Jacaerys stood on the steps, gazing out into the water.

''Iksos Baela nykeēdrosa hen?" Rhaella asked, taking place at his side. 'Is Baela still out?'

"Ziry emagon issare mirri jēda." 'It has been some time'

Jace's draw brow furrowed, formulating a High Valyarian response that would not embarrass completely him.

"Ēza.." 'She has' Jace began hesitantly. Rhaella did not mock her cousin, waiting patiently for him to finish.

"Olvie tegon naejot ruaragon" 'She has much land to cover'. He finished unsurely.

A small huff of amusement left Rhaella's lips. Jace, much to his credit had been diligently studying the High Valyarian scrolls. He still had quite a way to go if he was to achieve fluency.

"There is no place for naejot in that sentence." Rhaella corrected.

"Yet another reminder of my own inadequacy" Jace hissed out. Rhaella shifted awkwardly. It was not her intention to strike a nerve.

"You're getting better." Rhaella tried.

Jace scoffed, shooting her a knowing glance. "And nowhere near how you speak."

Seeing an opportunity to feel some semblance of superiority, Rhaella chose to shrug nonchalantly.

"My time was spent in scrolls and pages, yours was in the dragonpits."

The screech of Moondancer cut through, causing both cousins to avert their attention to the skies.

"I do not understand why my mother allows her leave, and not me," Jace said.

Rhaella thought carefully as to what she could say to her cousin. The softer option would be to goad him, reassure Jace that the queen was simply worried about his safety.

But that would be boring, and Rhaella was in desperate need of a distraction.

"It serves in your favor anyhow," Rhaella said. She began to walk to the corridors, Jace quick on her heels.

"Meaning?" Annoyance was palpable in the prince's tone.

Rhaella stopped for a moment, shifting her fervid gaze to Jace. There was a slight amusement, something catlike in her eyes. It took him aback sometimes, how offputting albeit alluring Rhaella was.

"In your wait, you have more time to carefully plan your moves." She continued on walking to the table where Baela already stood.

Rhaella's brow raised slightly at her sister's disheveled hair. Perhaps she ran into some trouble?

"Well?"Queen Rhaenyra asked expectantly. All members of the Black Council impatiently waited for Baela's report.

Baela met Rhaella's gaze mischievously. Just as she thought, her sister and likely been chaotic, as was her nature.

"I saw Ser Criston Cole with half a dozen other knights," Baela said. "Perhaps a scouting for a greater army."

Queen Rhaenyra crossed her arms. Rhaella was hardly surprised, Cole was now a kings guard and was acting accordingly.

Precious time was being wasted on their part. And she knew Jace would agree with her if she cared to voice the thought.

"How could you be sure it was him, and from such a great height?" Queen Rhaenyra asked Baela, eyes focusing on the painted table.

"It was not such a great height, your grace," Baela said cooly. Rhaella held back a snort, surely her sister gave them a proper torment before fleeing.

The queen Rhaenyra did not think it so amusing as she looked to Baela sharply for further explanation.

"You said not to engage so I didn't," Baela spoke. "Not exactly, anyway."

Rhaella's mind drifted to the sound Criston Cole and his party would make when she would scorch them in the flames of Aegarax.

Alas, it was but a fantasy.

"The time to act must be now." Lord Celtigar urges.

Rhaella's eyes traced along the lit table. Cole and his men were heading northeast, but surely not to Harrenhal as her father had claimed it and they would be more than fools to pursue the endeavor.

"Rooks Rest will be the likely destination," Rhaella spoke suddenly, catching all by surprise.

"And pray tell how you came to that conclusion." Ser Arthur said, condescendingly.

At the challenge, Rhaella felt a surge of confidence. She needed not a dragon, only her mind.

Rhaella picked up a piece and slid it between Duskendale and Rooks Rest.

"Both castles are within their distance, I think Criston Coles's army will lay siege there."

Rhaella looked up to face the lords. They held faces of doubt, much to her irritation. Perhaps if she possessed a cock, her words would be taken more seriously.

"She thinks." Ser Aurthor scoffs. Rhaella's face heated up in frustration.

"It is a keen thought." Lord Massey deflects from her softly. She did not wish to be coddled in such a pitiful way.

Jace nudged her shoulder in support, although it hardly made her feel any less silly. She knew he understood the feeling well, however, he was the male heir and she was nothing.

"It is more plausible they would be marching to Harrenhall, word must be sent to Prince Daemon." Lord Massey continued.

"What is your reasoning for such a thought?" Queen Rhaenyra looked to Rhaella.

"It must be a larger scheme one that would force us to--" Rhaella stopped abruptly. A figure walked quickly, almost inhuman into the darkness of the halls.

Her mind had given way to madness, Rhaella was certain. The chillingly familiar pangs of whispers filled her head once more.

'A God must be fed.' it hissed.

"I commend you for the attempt, but you have no such insight into warfare." Lord Celtigar said.

Rhaella wished for the ground to open and swallow her up.

"Still though, I request leave at once to fortify my castle." Lord Simon Staunton said.

So her theory gave way to worry, at least.

"We must do something, your grace." Ser Arther said. It must've been the tenth time he has voiced his opinion. "Set loose the dragons and burn Cole."

Rhaella, in spite of her newfound hatred for Ser Arther, agreed. If the queen would send Rhaenys and Meleys now, while it was dark, any plots the Greens had would end.

But Queen Rhaenyra held fast to her path of peace. Rhaella could no longer admire it, they were at war and people would die either way. Such is the price.

It fell silent as the council waited for Rhaenyra's response. The vexation on Jace's face only grew. He had not given his input, choosing to heed Rhaella's advice.

"I have heard your arguments, and shall consider them." Queen Rhaenyra said, dismissing the council.

"Are you alright?" Baela asked, gently touching Rhaella's arm. "You just disappeared for a moment."

"I…" Rhaella drifted off. Something was here, and she intended to find out what it was.

She shook her head. "Goodnight."

Rhaella hastily marched into the halls. It became apparent to her that this was reckless and maybe her life was in danger.

But in all the places she dared to look, nothing was found. Somehow, she was relieved as she went to her chambers.

It was lonely, usually, Astris was here to help her undress. Rhaella hoped the girl was faring better than her. Slipping into her nightgown, she sat on a stool facing the mirror.

Rhaella could only trust that her plan could bear some semblance of success, lest she embarrass herself yet again.

Her eyes tugged toward the pillow atop her bed. Aemond's letter was still there, testing Rhaella's already weakened resolve.

"It's nothing remarkable, save for a load of blabber." A voice spoke.

Rhaella knew that voice, the one to blame for her dreams of torment.

Her eyes snapped up to the mirror, seeing a man standing behind her. He was tall, unnervingly so, with tanned skin and curls of chocolate brown.

And his eyes were black as the night sky, leaving no parts white.

Stumbling, Rhaella fell from her stool in a panic. Her eyes frantically looked around for anything to defend herself.

"It wouldn't work anyhow."He said, an odd smile gracing his lips.

"What the fuck are you?" Rhaella bit shakily. The man plopped carelessly onto the floor across from her.

"I suppose it depends on who you'd like me to be." He said.

She could scream and guards would rush over in a moments time.

He chuckled lowly. "You would only look foolish Rhaella."

Rhaella tucked her knees further into herself. He was invading her thoughts.

"Stop that," Rhaella demanded.

"You should be far used to this by now." He retorted.

Yes, she had grown used to her own insanity. The voice that had led her to kill a man had now manifested into something she could see.

"And you chose this form, for what purpose?" Rhaella asked. Besides his abnormal eyes and height, the man was more or less human, handsome even.

He hummed out playfully, taking his time much to Rhaella's irritation.

"I had a mind to take your mother's appearance, though I figured it would deter you."

Rhaella scoffed in disbelief. So the Gods truly did revel in mocking her.

"It seemed to work on the last one, such a frail little thing she was." He mused.

Not only were the Gods very much real, it seemed. But this one had taken the liberty of revealing himself…to her.

"What.." Rhaella began. He crawled over to her, his black eyes boring into hers. Not looking at her, but rather in her.

"What do you want from me?" Rhaella asked.

"I am hungry, Rhaella." His voice dropped lower with an inhumane sound. Petrified, she pressed herself further to the wall, but to no avail.

He had long been inside of her.

"I require blood" A finger brushed one of Rhaella's silver curls to the side-- Her eyes squeezed shut.

"But..you know that, don't you?"

Rhaella drew in a breath. His voice was cold like pure death. When she sought the courage to open her eyes, he had vanished. She was forced to wonder if this was a dream.

Standing to her feet in a stupor. Rhaella's hands trembled. She could not sleep here, if at all.

She missed her mother, horribly. It was a fact that she often tried to bury, but alas Rhaella craved the warm touch of her.

She missed Rhaena.

Astris. Her Father. Luke.

Aemond.

What was this?

Rhaella wrapped her arms around her waist, striding all the way to Baela's chamber.

She did not bother knocking either. Softly closing the door behind her, she stood over Baela's sleeping form.

If she were to lose her sisters, her family to this war-- All reason would be lost to her.

Her mind was made up. She would spill blood in her family's name.

Baela's eyes flickered open, jumping at the sight of her sister.

"Rhaella?" Baela whispered, voice laced with sleep.

She inched herself over her sister's body, flopping onto the unoccupied side.

Baela watched her in uncertainty. Her sister was suffering. From what? She knew Rhaella would rather die than tell her.

But when she saw how her little sister's body shook, Baela drew her arms over her.

It was all she could think to do.

-----------

Tags: @leahnicole1219 <3 ^3^

[a-shadowedvales]

so… in the additional media of stranger things (specifically the comics i’m mentioning), it was initially brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as eleven was. it was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. and i just…. sure henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but i think i am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

i genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and brenner is far more intriguing than the show. everything with 9/9.5, ricky, and francine. eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. and they all had such a range of interesting powers. i firmly stand with the idea that jane is the only one who can contact the void.

brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out terry was pregnant. he discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. there would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. because of this, i would not put it past a man like brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” in this case, eleven.

eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because jane was 011. so there were at least ten kids before her. but i always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. that they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. with flying colours.

i just think the whole rainbow room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. boring and predictable. i think at this point my portrayal of her time in hawkins lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. where having the rainbow room, although eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. albeit extremely warped and toxic. knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. doesn’t sit well with me. i think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. which is why kali is also so important to her growth. i thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. although peter becoming vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, peter ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. but before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. peter is shot on the spot, and eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. in this timeline, henry would be vecna, but henry would not be peter ballad.

when eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, brenner had the eight children killed. kali had already escaped. this was the main cause for peter to gain eleven’s trust and try to get her out. because if brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

when eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with peter. brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a peter, that she must have been dreaming. eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given peter told her of the day terry broke in the lab, but brenner is convincing enough to make eleven believe it was all in her head. say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

i still do wanna keep the henry creel canon, and keep him as 001. brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. brenner definitely wants to be able to control henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. killing him would be too big of a loss.

when eleven is ten years old, henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto hawkins lab. he almost kills brenner by snapping his bones, but eleven manages to stop him. her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends henry to the upside down. she does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. eleven is rewarded for her efforts. although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. also loved the idea of brenner sending her into the void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

by the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the upside down is basically what we see in canon. because she passed out the moment after she sent henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. for two years she believed this, until making contact with the demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

due to her saving brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. she happened to be there. saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) brenner constantly thanks her. but in a very condescending way. tells her: “you saved me so i can continue saving you.” aka, harness your abilities and see what else i can achieve from you. despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. that she owes him something further.

i don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. it makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

it also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. they would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. as far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with benny, i'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. where she followed the boys home without thought.

also it's important to note that after time, jane does understand that peter ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from terry) who wanted the best for her. when she remembers him, knows that brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. he was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. this is another catalyst as to why after season two, jane never refers to brenner as papa. she does not give him that sort of credit.

[novankenn]

I'm Sorry...

(Heroes make sacrifices... unwelcome ones.)

Pyrrha was spent and broken. She knelt on her knees, looking up at the wicked woman as she slowly drew back on the sting of her bow. So many regrets danced in Pyrrha's head, chiefly among them were all the wasted chances she had with Jaune. She was a coward, several times over. Unwilling to take the chance and now throwing it all away... but... but at least he would be safe. He could continue on and became the man she knew he would be.

Cinder smirked as she pulled the string of Midnight to full draw. This was it, everything was falling into place. With Nikos removed, Ozpin's plans would be gutted, even more so than they already were. More importantly, the shadow of Nikos, the girl who had everything that should have been hers, would forever be removed from Cinder's world.

Cinder felt like she had been hit with a sledgehammer as she was suddenly, and violently carried sideways, he well aimed arrow flying past Nikos' head harmlessly.

"Jaune?"

/=/ Moments earlier /=/

Just before the rocket locker could launch, Jaune drove the edge of his sheath into the side of the door, jamming it into the seal. Expanding the relic from the great War, the door screeched and the safety systems activated. The door was breached, causing the count-down to abort. Twisting his Heirloom weapon, using it like a pry bar, he forced the door open further. He was frantic, he knew what Pyrrha was planning to do. He couldn't let it happen like that.

He was just moments behind her, and while she used the ruined elevator shaft to rise up to meet her destiny, Jaune struggled to climb. Pushing his weary muscles past their limit. Making the top of the shaft, he took a minute to gather himself. He watched the one-sided battle between Pyrrha and the murderess, and he made his decision. Pulling out his scroll, he prepared to enact his plan.

/=/

"Jaune!" Pyrrha screamed as she watched her crush, crash bodily into the exposed side of Cinder. He was unarmed, using his very body as a weapon. "JAUNE!"

The breath was knocked out of Cinder's lungs at unanticipated impact, and it took a couple of seconds for her to understand that she was being bodily carried away from her target.

Jaune knew he didn't have the skills or abilities to help Pyrrha. If that wretched woman was so easily dealing with Pyrrha, someone who was leagues beyond him in skill, he had no chance in facing her... normally. But he quickly knew what he could do. What tools he had that she may not be able to counter... surprise and mass.

"NO! JAUNE!" Pyrrha screamed as she fought to rise to her feet, the searing pain of the arrow through her heel causing her to collapse and watch in horror as Jaune carried himself and Cinder over the edge of the tower.

Cinder flailed about, calling upon the Maiden's powers and her own semblance to free her. But it was too little too late as the extra weight carried her over the edge and pulled her towards the ground... far... far below.

/=/

"I found this, when I picked you and Ruby up." Qrow spoke softly as he held out his hand, an active scroll held gentle between his fingers.

With a shaking hand, Pyrrha reached out and took it. Nora and Ren closed about her. Qrow pressed his lips together and slowly walked off, giving the broken team some privacy. They all saw the icon indicating that there was an unsent message. Whimpering, Pyrrha shakily reached out and touched it.

"Hi." Jaune spoke, his trademark smile, weak and strained. "If you're watching this, then I guess it worked... or at least I hope it did."

"Jaune." Nora choked out as Ren squeezed her shoulder.

"I don't expect anyone to understand or be happy with what I've done, and I'm sorry, and I wish I was there for you to all yell at me like I deserve... but I guess this will have to do."

"Jaune..." Ren broke and sobbed.

"People always looked at me funny when I said I wanted to be a hero. They told me I didn't know what I was talking about, but I did." Jaune's image gave a broken half-hearted smile, "I know what a hero is... they give their all to help those around them make a better world. They do so without hesitation. They're willing to sacrifice themselves for the chance at a better future for those they care about."

"No... Jaune... you shouldn't" Pyrrha couldn't continue, her sorrow grabbing her heart and crushing it.

"To protect those I love, I will do what I can, and I do it willingly, because I know that if whatever Ozpin has gotten us involved in..." tears could be seen in Jaune's eyes, "If... if Remnant has a chance at a better future, it's with all of you..."

The trio could say nothing as they watched as Jaune looked up, his eyes obviously watching something they couldn't see. Pyrrha whimpered, as she could easily guess at what that was, by the pained look in her crush's eyes.

"I don't expect you to understand, or forgive me. Just know I did the only thing I could to make sure you guys could save everyone else." Jaune's eyes returned to look into the camera. Tears were beginning to roll down his cheeks, as his voice was getting choppy with emotion. "I love you all... I always will. I'm sorry."

"Jaune!" Pyrrha screamed in anguish as the video stopped. Ren and Nora wrapped their arms about the shattered spartan. Their own hearts torn with grief. "Jaune... Jaune... Jaune.... "

[2frosty4you]

Scorched | Chapter 2

| Ao3 | Wattpad | Masterlist | Fic-Masterlist |

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Pairing: Tf2 x Female Reader Words: 1754

Warnings/notes: no warnings :), only me writing accents :-:

Chapter 2 | Garage

(Y/n)’s eyes fell to darkness as the inside of the van was not lit up. Either they did this on purpose to get her to become more vulnerable or uncomfortable, or the owner of this van (the four men) was just too lazy to add in a light; a lamp would be a good addition to this mopey van. The metal beneath her was cold, and she could see the moonlight through many bullet holes littered throughout the shell of the vehicle. Staring up into them, she picked at her skin. They did not restrain her in any way, if you didn't count locking up the van so she couldn't escape whatever plans the group of men had. Though she swears that they look like they belonged to a bigger team than just the four of them. 

Hearing them chat out the front of the van raised even more questions in her mind, who were these other people? And who the hell calls their child ‘medic? ‘Scout’ was clearly the weakest of them all, in a keeping secrets sense. He was loud and talked a lot, A LOT. From making fun of the ‘Blu’s’ to poking fun at ‘Heavy’ for his driving skills. (Y/n) tapped her fingers along the metal floor, feeling the cold absorb into her skin and cause her to shiver. The least they could have done is given her a blanket or jumper to fend off the cold surrounding her. 

She could tell Heavy didn't like Scout. Even if in his low voice there was no semblance of anger in it, she could still imagine how he is crushing the steering wheel as Scout began to laugh about the Medic. He heard Scout comment that if he gripped the steering wheel harder he'd crash the van with his weight alone, the van turned as Heavy hit the boy.

“OW!! Right, you're a sensitive big baby, sorry for hurting your little feeling” Scout muttered, (y/n) heard him say, and stopped herself from laughing at his comment.

She hums softly, eyes wide open and still investigating the shell which protected the world around her from her pyromaniac fingers and eyes full of fire. Her lighter was still in her pockets, but her pocket knife was taken away from her for the safety of the men now she thinks it was just for the safety of Scout, who looked weaker than her even if he was taller and faster. But it sucked that the small blade was taken from her as it was a parting gift to her from her brother before he was sent out to war; being a man in the army forced him to fight for their country. And (Y/n) is hanging onto the hope that she sees him again and gets that knife back from Scout.

Her eyes fell back to one of the larger holes in the van, hearing the groan from the metal as a breath of wind flowed through the holes in the walls. Making her shiver as she went back into her mind, maybe these people were connected to an army of some sort, no that seems silly. They all are wearing red, even the fancy french ones. They are probably some gang that seems more reasonable, if not more terrifying. But that didn't stop her brain from making her feel like she was unstoppable and couldn't be held down, even by some gang that didn't even use weaponry of any kind, unlike the officers who were always happy to take her prisoner. A female who was unstable, what an easy room she got in that jail. 

Suddenly the van came to a harsh stop, she was shoved into the walls by the motion of parking and audibly let out a noise in pain, Scout snickered at it and (Y/n) narrowed her eyes in the dark. Finally, they got used to the darkness. Faintly seeing boxes surrounding her and a set of benches on each wall. Good thing she wasn't thrown into one of them. Heavy was kind enough not to throw her inside the van. And she felt him exit the van, the vehicle creaking under the sudden loss of weight, and it tilted to the side. Scout also exited, she heard him greet other people and greet a female. Clear by him calling her Ms Pauling, he seemed extremely enamored by her existence. And also, the sound of high heels against hard flooring was a clear giveaway. 

Then the sliding door of the van was yanked open, the sound of metal against metal made (Y/n) cringe inside from the sound. She looked forwards, staring straight at the woman she heard walking outside the van. 

“Heavy, get her out of there.” She spoke with authority in her tone, her head held high and her back so straight you couldn't even think she was in a lower position than one in power or at least an assistant to the higher power. 

Heavy then walked over, stretching into the van as (Y/n) backed up, kicking her legs in front of her trying to grip the van's flooring. Heavy still could reach into the van and grab her, god knows how tall this man was, he grabbed her ankle and dragged her forwards and lifted her out of the van and onto her feet. Her landing was wobbly, but she still could stand as the Russian man behind her still held her to ensure she wouldn't run for it at any opportunity.

“(Y/n) (L/n)?” She questioned, looking down at the clipboard in her hands and then back up at (Y/n). The woman nodded slowly. Then she looked down at her arm, clicked her pen and wrote something down quickly. (Y/n) stood there awkwardly, looking around. Scout was gone, and there was no sight of anyone else but her, Heavy and Ms Pauling.  It was eerie in addition to the dry cold air, and the sky dark with no semblance of the sun and its remnants in the moon’s light which fell onto the trio. And the lights of what seemed like a garage flashed behind Ms Pauling.

“So Ms (L/n), you have been brought here on the recommendation of higher-ups at Mann.Co. I am sure you’ve heard that name before,” She said, sounding bored and tired all in one, mixed in with her professionalism. 

“They’ve requested you to replace one of our classes due to an accident which had occurred not too long ago, and the rest is classified”, She added, moving paperwork on her clipboard, letting the metal clip snap down and echoing its sound throughout the garage. 

“O-kay”, (Y/n) replied, looking not so fond of this predicament as Ms Pauling looked at her through her eyelashes and raised an eyebrow. 

“That's all?” She questioned, (Y/n) nodded slowly. 

“What am I supposed to say? No?” She asked the woman before her. Hints of sarcasm dripped through her words as Ms Pauling sighed deeply. 

“No, otherwise you’d need to be dealt with '' She muttered, seriousness in her voice and (y/n) looked at her in confusion.

“Dealt wit-” 

“Anyway, I will be leading you to your room. And to what your role is in Teufort. The money you earn will be sent to a bank account in your name, and after the introduction, I will send you off to Medic for your respawn chip and uber” She cut (Y/n) off before she could start giving her any questions and gestured to Heavy to let her go. The large man dropped his arms and walked off, pressing a button to open a large metal garage door which he kept open for the two women behind him.

(Y/n) eyes left his figure as he disappeared behind the wall. Then her (e/c) eyes met with Ms Pauling’s green ones, reflecting an image of (y/n) in her glasses, leaving her staring at her reflection-watching face instead of paying attention to what she was saying. 

“-the medic will be intense, but you’ll get used to it, maybe” She mumbled the last word and then snapped her fingers in front of (y/n)’s face; the woman waved away the manicured hand as she blinked back into existence. 

“I was listening”, (Y/n) defended, and Ms Pauling just looked at her blankly. 

“Right, let's go” She turned around and started to walk into the garage, and the woman behind her slowly followed. She looked around as they entered, with the garage door creaking and groaning as it closed. Dust rose as the metal door closed behind (Y/n).

Beeping filled her ears suddenly as a red laser was trained on the center of her chest, she stepped back as a large machine faced her. Wiring and clicking echoed from this creation, two machine guns strapped to mechanical legs and rocket launchers above the guns. Now that seemed like overkill. (Y/n) hands went up as Ms Pauling looked at the sentry and then back at her. 

“Come on, you're not blu, so you're fine” She addressed the gun as (Y/n) looked at her as if she was crazy, blu?? What if she did wear blue what would happen?

“Okay, but if I get shot?” 

“You'd be dead already. Hurry up” She hurried the woman, and (Y/n) looked at the turret and stepped slowly after Ms Pauling, who was already out the door, which flashed a light quickly before shutting off. The door clicked when it closed behind her, locking itself automatically. 

“So that is the back entrance to the base. Here is where you’ll be staying between missions and contracts. As the rest of the team is, you all have separate rooms, and you’ll be taking over the room from the person before you,” She explained. Now in a hallway that contained six rooms, then there was another hallway that had two rooms, they looked fancier and larger than the other six.

Incessant beeping echoed from Ms Pauling's belt, a pager hung off of it. She took in a breath of air and checked it. 

“I won't be able to take you around the rest of the base. The lounge and kitchen are connected down the hall, left then forwards. Or ask Heavy” The woman then turned on her heel and went the other way, leaving (Y/n) in the hallway in front of a room with a fire emblem on the door. She turned to face the door and then back to where now Ms Pauling had disappeared off to.

‘What. the. hell.’ 

[bakuliwrites]

A Distant Past- Gortash x My Tav

Rating: Mature Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Enver Gortash x OC Tags: Slightly suggestive, a bit of angst, Gortash spoilers, BG3 spoilers, pre-events of Baldur's Gate 3, Gortash backstory, OC backstory A/N: I have no idea when I'm going to get around to writing my fic about my Tav, Orlando, but I'm coming up with all sorts of content for it. It's just completely out of order. So, here's a little mini-fic which will be featured in my eventual fanfic. For context, this occurs after Gortash and my Tav have escaped the House of Hope, but years before the events of Baldur's Gate 3 :) Want to know more about my Tav? Check her out here

Lifting his head from his cluttered desk, Enver pinches the bridge of his nose, willing the pressure of a nascent migraine to dissipate. He’s been working for hours, maybe even days, with little to show for it. Unfinished, half-baked ideas litter his workspace and he’s certain his five o’clock shadow has progressed into full beard territory. His dark eyes flick over to where Orlando is scratching away at some parchment, the grip on her quill irontight. The Tiefling’s forehead is crinkled in concentration, as she is no doubt absorbed in formulating some new potion derived from her luminescent tears. Recently, she made a bit of money selling a vial to a scientist of middling renown, who hopes to turn them into a viable light source. But that one sale hasn’t been much in the way of funds, hence her dedication to expanding her little business.

Enver listens to the harsh scratch of her pen on parchment and smiles to himself. Orlando’s patience is endless. How long has it been since they slipped through Raphael’s claws? A decade, at least. And how long has Enver been promising her safety, security, stability? Even longer. 

Thus far, he’s been able to provide exactly nothing for her. He’s resorted to thievery and scrounging around for whatever food and living accommodations he can find. It was Orlando that managed to secure the two of them a temporary home, albeit water damaged and reeking of brine. A hut on the beach in Baldur’s Gate isn’t exactly prime real estate, but it serves its purpose for now. Shelter and somewhere to work is all Enver really needs. He is a man of unwavering perseverance, more so than he even realizes, yet, in his late twenties. 

Even in this dingy shack they’ve commandeered as a workspace, Enver sees promise. He sees potential, if he can get any of his damn machines to actually work. Miniature prototypes of devices he’s given the temporary titles of, “Steel Soldiers,” (a name he plans to change one day) lay disassembled around his workspace. Blueprints for better designs, newer designs, cover his desk and spill onto the floor. Meanwhile, Orlando has laid claim to a small desk in the corner, comfortable in the dark and claustrophobic den she’s built for herself. She’s always been more productive in small, shadowy spaces. She glances up for a moment, webbed ears perking up when she hears Enver sigh. She meets his gaze and beams gently.

Part of Enver wishes he could give Orlando the life she’s always imagined, the one she wrote to him about in the secretive notes they used to pass back and forth in the House of Hope. Were she to stay with him, perhaps he could give her some semblance of that life, though it certainly wouldn’t be the saccharine fantasy she’d cooked up all those years ago. A fantasy she also appears to have abandoned. Years of struggling to make ends meet seem to have dashed any hopes she had for a cottage in the woods with a gaggle of children and flocks of sheep (or was it chickens? He can’t recall).

Enver is certain he can give Orlando a life better than the simple one she imagined as a child. He is meant for greater, grander things, and so is she. Orlando is more lethal than she realizes. Were she to unlock her potential, were Enver’s potential to be recognized- by the gods, they’d be unstoppable. Bane would no doubt be pleased. And whatever eldritch patron Orlando is bound to- well, it’s safe to say they’d benefit from a union as powerful as his and hers. 

Enver lets his mind wander for a moment. In another life, he stands at the grand window in a magnificent office. His magnificent office, one with mahogany shelves from floor to ceiling and space for him to fiddle with his machines. The deep blue waters of the Sword Coast shimmer brightly in his view, and Enver knows he’s made it. He’s the top of the top, the cream of the crop. In this dream, in this life, he is beloved, feared, and standing victoriously on the pinnacle of the world. A portrait of him, powerful and commanding, hangs above the mantelpiece, with Orlando sitting elegant and proud at his side. Triumphant, he swivels back to the window, gloating over the city that failed him so spectacularly as a child. However, the dream suddenly shifts. Night descends on Baldur’s Gate and the stars twinkle softly in their heavenly bezels. 

Enver still stands at his office window, a newborn son swaddled in his arms. The boy’s chubby cheeks are softer than velvet, his teeny, pink lips slightly parted in peaceful slumber. He looks like his mother, right down to the little horns sprouting from his head and the bioluminescent spots on his delicately webbed ears. But he has his father’s eyes (and possibly his nose, though it’s still a bit early to tell). He is the picture of innocence, cherubic and new. The world is a marvel to him still, the mysteries of which his parents will help him unravel in time. Mysteries Enver had to unravel for himself when he was a boy.  

A surge of contempt wells in Enver’s chest. Looking down at the sweet face of his little one, he cannot fathom how a parent could sell their child. He simply cannot comprehend letting anyone wrench his precious babe from his arms in exchange for a petty amount of gold. His son- Mirak or Nikhil, he decides (he recalls Orlando daydreaming about naming a son one of these names)- stirs, wriggling restlessly in his blanket. When the boy yawns, the slightest squeak escapes his throat, and Enver feels his heart swell. Who could be so cruel as to assign value to that which is priceless? 

In this other life, he feels Orlando’s arms snake around his waist and pull him close. She rests her head against his broad shoulders and when she leans up to press a lingering kiss to Enver’s neck, he smells her sweet jasmine and musk perfume, and for a moment, Enver could convince himself this life is real.

“My handsome men,” she affectionately hums, squeezing him tight. Enver shifts the baby to one arm, wrapping his other around his wife and drawing her near. The feeling that surges through him in this moment is foreign, utterly unknown to him. Is this what it’s like to feel unconditional love? Love without expectation? Love not as a commodity or something to earn, but something entirely inherent and guaranteed? Here they stand, a family of three. United, as they should be. As families ought to be.

But this life will never be. Enver’s trajectory has not allowed room for the comforts of settling down. This other life is a fantasy in every sense of the word. A ridiculous notion Orlando planted in his head over years of pining after a life that will always be out of reach. He must carry on, determined as ever. If life will not give him what he wants, then he must take it for himself.

A gentle touch draws Enver from his thoughts, ink-stained fingers carding softly through his jet black locks. Velvet lips press tender kisses to his cheekbones, scratching against his stubble and smiling softly against his skin.

“Come to bed?” Orlando tempts, her voice a drawl as her hands smooth along his shoulders. Meeting her eyes, Enver knows in his heart that they are on the cusp of something brilliant. Something life changing. He will stop at nothing to ensure a safe future for himself, for Orlando.

Enver grasps Orlando’s hand, pulling her into him, letting her settle on the desk in front of him. Her startled gasp turns to a giggle, which is swiftly hushed when his lips crash hungrily into hers. Orlando returns his kiss with equal fervor. Enver doesn’t have time for sleep, not if he wants to build the life he’s promised her for so long. But Enver won’t say no to blowing off some steam, refreshing his thoughts and losing himself in his cherished one for a while.

A/N: I don't intend for this fic to have any redemption arcs for Gortash. I want it to purely be a dual route fic: one ending with a corruption arc for my Tav and one ending where she will have to face off with Gortash. But I can't resist writing about what could have been in another life, if things had gone differently for them. Thank you for reading :) More to come.

[jerzwriter]

Comfort & Joy

Artwork done by the amazing @rosefuckinggenius - it will be posted alone, but I had to use it as part of my holiday fic for Eli & Zoe! :)

Book:                   Wake the Dead

Pairing:                Eli Sipes x F!MC (Zoe Rivera)

Rating:                 Teen

Warnings:          Discussion of loved ones who have died

Category:            Fluffy Angst

Summary:           Zoe and her friends make good on the plans they made that day at the amusement park, and their winter holiday celebration is underway.  The night is almost perfect until memories take a toll on Zoe, and she slips away. Eli finds her, and together, they create a precious new memory together.

Words:                 2428

A/N:                     It’s not exactly Christmas, but their own version of it.  A little reprieve in the craziness of their world, something I hope each of you will find this year. ❤️

  Participating @choicesdecember2022 – Day 28 - I hope I never lose you @choicesflashfics - I never want to stop making memories with you

WTD Masterlist

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS.

It had been one of the best nights of her life. At least of the nights she could remember. It was possible that another had topped it, but if so, it would have been before the world changed, taking every semblance of safety and normalcy along with it. She didn’t have much recollection of that time, back when she shared a home with Ana and their two loving fathers. But the memories she had were warm and full of love… just like tonight. She moved to the stairs some time ago, quietly observing to take in the scene. 

Her once timid friend Shannon may have had too much of that homemade wine. Nevertheless, she was beaming. Flitting around the dancefloor and making sure everyone joined in. The children of Olympus had determined that Angel was their favorite person that night. While she pretended that it was an annoyance, Zoe knew better. That laughter that echoed down the hall and the smile on her face could only come from someone truly happy, finding companionship after a lifetime alone. Troy… well, Troy was Troy. Happy, laughing, the life of the party itself, but even he had changed. His sarcastic charm and wit were ever present, but he was different, in a better way. And then there was Eli. While most of the children had commandeered Angel, Maya had decided Eli was hers for the night. Zoe had been confident that his patience would have worn thin hours ago, yet there he sat next to Maya’s stuffed animal as the young girl fed them cookies and read them a “bedtime story.”

Zoe’s hand covered her chest, wondering if her heart could burst from so much joy, but then again, not everything had changed for the better. She quietly snuck outside while no one was watching. Alone on the deck, she listened to the silence as she gazed at the bucolic setting surrounding them. She made a mental note to thank Troy for what seemed like a ludicrous idea less than a year ago. Who knew that the dreaded Red Meadows would be their home, and who knew that the young woman who needed a sweater when it was seventy degrees would find that winter was her favorite season of all.

It wasn’t the billowing snow that covered every surface, blanketing a horrid world in a sort of peace she never knew. It wasn’t how it glowed like an enchanted forest in the moonlight. It would be easy to assume it was because most zombies were in hibernation this time of year. Having that burden lifted did usher in a relief she couldn’t express. But none of these things were the reason why. It was something… more.  

A warm glow emitted from inside, beckoning her to take another peek. The residents of the new colony were having a desperately needed night of levity. Each had endured losses and horrors that the minds of previous generations could not have conceived. But tonight, they ate, drank, conversed, played games, and, most importantly, they laughed and knew how it felt to be surrounded by love. In this ragtag group, Zoe had found something she had been longing for her entire life without even knowing what it was. She found a home.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she was unsure if they were born of sadness or joy. This was the best her life had ever been in almost every way. Yet, her heart ached for what was lost. As grateful as she was, the joy she held in her heart was tempered because the one person who enabled her to lead this life was no longer there.

Lowering her head, she took in a deep breath of the crisp winter air. She didn’t mind how it assaulted her lungs; she deserved to have some pain. That’s what she believed, for she was reaping the rewards her sister didn’t live to see. She was about to surrender to the darkness that never seemed too far away. The torrent of tears building inside her was about to overflow when a strong arm gently encircled her waist and pulled her near. 

Neither words nor sight was needed; she knew who it was. She knew his scent, the sound of his breath, and the gentle bliss his touch brought to her heart. Each day was a gift in their world, and tomorrow was unpromised. She knew their happiness was on borrowed time, so she memorized everything. Every sound, feeling, and caress was cataloged in her memory. For if the day were to come when they could no longer be together, that’s what she’d have to rely on because letting him go would never be an option.

“I knew I find you here,” he whispered. “Why are you out in the cold?”

“I’m so happy,” she said with a broken voice, “… and I’m so sad.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder, and she welcomed the warmth of lips on her icy cheek. He had come to know her so well, and now his presence was needed most of all.

“You can talk to me if you want,” he muttered in her ear.

“I know… I…” she started, but the words wouldn’t come.

“But you don’t have to,” he smiled, pulling her under his arm.

“Tonight was amazing, Eli, because of you.”

The snort that escaped him confirmed that he didn’t agree. “Hardly!” He scoffed. “This was a group effort, and you were a big part of that group.”

“It was your idea,” she said with a shake of her head. “You and the others came up with it that day at the amusement park.”

“Yeah, but some of us are more talk than action. You make sure that we see things through.”

“Hmmm, you give me too much credit.”

“Yeah, well, turnaround is fair play,” he smiled, and with that, most of her sadness disappeared. “You’re guilty of doing that with me.”

“But when it comes to you, it’s accurate.”

“That’s your opinion,” he stated, spinning her around to face him. “Why don’t we go inside? You’re freezing, and most have gone to bed, so we’ll be alone. We can talk if you want.”

“I do,” she said, slipping her freezing hand into his. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~

He placed a blanket over her when she sunk into the couch, then stepped away to get her a warm drink, but she pulled him near.

“No. Just stay with me.”

“Sure,” he replied, taking the spot next to her.

“I feel guilty,” she whispered so low he almost didn’t hear.

“For what?”

“For being alive… for being here… having this beautiful night,” she lifted her head to look into his eyes, as hers brimmed with tears, “for having you.”

Eli’s expression softened, and words were unnecessary to express how much he understood. He raised a calloused thumb to her cheek, stroking soft circles against her skin.

“I get it, but a wise woman once told me that our loved ones who had passed would want us to find happiness in whatever time we have left. I didn’t always believe that, but she made me see she was right.”

“Throwing my words back at me, Eli?” she smirked.

“What? Do you think you’re the only wise woman I’ve ever known?” He grinned as she nuzzled against his chest.

“Oh, I keep forgetting you were Mr. Social Butterfuly before I came along,” she teased. 

“I know you miss Ana. I miss my family, too, every day. But I’m grateful for the people I have in my life, you most of all. I know that’s what they’d want for me. I know they’re happy I’ve found this. I only got to meet Ana once, but in that little time, I know she’d feel the same way for you.”

“She would,” Zoe smiled. “Sometimes I feel like it’s my obligation to be happy… or all her sacrifices weren’t worthwhile.”

“You should take happiness where you can find it. But you need to be true to what you’re feeling, and you’re allowed to be sad, too.”  

Zoe sat up and faced him; much of the pain present on her face had melted away. 

“I know. But I want to be happy. Tonight was magical. It almost felt like a scene in one of those Christmas movies from the Old World that Troy plays.”

“That’s what we were aiming for.”

“We succeed,” she beamed, her face aglow from the firelight. He wasn’t sure if she had ever looked more beautiful.

“We did,” he smiled, caressing her hand. “We did good. But… the night is not over.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I have a present for you.”

“Eli! We mentioned exchanging gifts at first, but then we agreed we’d save gifts for the next time. It would be too difficult to….”

“Fortunately, I ignored that,” he smirked as he retrieved a small bag from the back of a shelf. “Because I noticed you had a package with my name in your closet after I got this.”

“Snooping?” She mocked.

“No! Getting you a blanket for the five-hundredth time.”

Zoe narrowed her eyes as she got the package hid in a rarely used desk in the corner. Looking almost bashful, she returned to the seat next to him.

“So how do we do this? I’ve never exchanged gifts before. I know in the movies it’s usually a big chaotic scene where no one knows what they’re opening….”

“That never seemed appealing.”

“I’m glad you agree,” she smiled. “So, you open mine, and then I’ll open yours?”

“We can do that,” he said, accepting the gift wrapped in an old t-shirt from her hands.

A shocked expression registered on his face as he stared at the drawing Zoe had created for him. His body trembled gently as he looked at her, then back to the drawing again.

“Is this,” he swallowed, taking a moment before speaking again. “Is this… my family?”

“That’s what I wanted it to be. I never got to see them, but I really listen when you talk, and this is how I imagine them… I hope I got it….”

The wind escaped her when Eli grabbed her in his arms, pulling her tightly against his chest. Her sweater and hair absorbed his tears as his face nuzzled in her shoulder. He looked at the picture again, and a soft sob escaped him. “It’s remarkable how much it looks like them…. it’s like you knew them. I don’t even know what to….”

“Shhh,” she cradled him close against her chest, kissing softly atop his head. “You don’t have to say anything, Eli. I’m just happy you like it.”

“I love it,” he whispered, wiping away a tear. “Thank you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for several moments. Eli never took his eyes off his gift, and by the time he looked back at Zoe, he appeared more at peace than she had seen him in some time.

“I almost forgot. I have something for you, too.”

He placed the small burlap bag on her lap, gently leaving his hand on her knee as she opened it. She took out a small stack of worn books tied together with a red ribbon. 

“Before you open it,” he interrupted. “I know you love to read, and there are two things you always seem to want to know more about…the old world and me… so I think you’ll like this.”

He watched her intently, her eyes wide with wonder as she turned the tattered pages, each covered with writing in beautiful penmanship.

“Eli… are these journals?”

“They are,” he whispered. “They were my mother’s.”

Zoe reflexively dropped the books to her lap, her hands reaching up to cover her mouth. “No!” she gasped, tears already rolling down her cheeks. “That’s impossible…. How?”

“Troy and I were scavenging one day, and I realized we weren’t all that far from my old cabin….”

“Eli!” She wailed. “You went back there! It’s too dangerous and too close to The Tower! And you two went alone!”

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” he chuckled nervously, “but Troy and I….”

“Troy!” she interrupted, “I’m going to kill him! I’m going to kill you! If anything would have happened, I would….”

“Zoe,” he said, steadying her in his arms. “Nothing happened. I’m here.”

“It must have been so hard on you… to be there. If you insisted on going, why didn’t you tell me? I would have come….”

“It wasn’t planned. It’s just one of those things. And, no, it wasn’t easy… but it was better than I would have thought. The place was pretty picked over, and most of our stuff was gone. But Mom kept these hidden under a footboard in her room… I can’t tell you how happy I was to find them. I was going to show you the second we got back, but… then I realized these would make the perfect gift for you.”

“For me,” she breathed, as her hand covered her heart. “Eli, I’ve never been more honored, but I… I can’t accept these. These belong to you, and no one but you, I couldn’t imagine….”

Eli placed his hand atop hers, trembling on her lap. 

“If they’re with you, they’ll be with me. Because if I have one or twenty-thousand days left, I’m spending them at your side.”

Zoe fell into his arms, not worried that her crying might wake the others; after all, they were the only two people in the world. 

“I love you, Eli Sipes,” she cried into his shoulder. “I love you so much, and… I don’t care what world it’s in, I don’t care what wealth anyone could have… no one could ever give me anything this precious.”

Pulling back, he gazed into her eyes. The pain, sorrow, and tragedy she had endured were all present, but they were obscured, hiding behind the love and wonder they held whenever she looked at him.

“You gave me a reason to be alive again, not survive, but live… who knew that troublemaking pain in the ass that came onto my property….”

Zoe laughed nervously through her tears, “The one you nearly killed?”

“I’ve apologized,” he grinned. “I hope you get to know my Mom a little when you read these. And maybe you’ll get to know me better, too. She wrote about conversations we used to have. In one, she told me how she still held out hope that I’d find happiness one day, even in this world. I didn’t believe it at all… but as usual, she was right… you’ve brought that to me. You’re the most precious gift, Zoe. I’m just glad we found each other.”

“Eli, I’m going to read every word, I promise, and the memory of this night will always be among the happiest in my life.”

“Good. But I never want to stop making memories with you.”

“Neither do I. Is this where we’re supposed to say Merry Christmas?”

“We could,” he smiled.  “Or we can make up something of our own.”

“How about I just say I love you.”

“I like that.  I love you, too.”

Eli's Family - fan art by @rosefuckinggenius

A/N 2: Someone recently asked me if Eli ever found his mother’s journals, so it got me thinking… I thought this was a great way for it to go. If you wish to learn more about them, you can find i for here:

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging separately.

[pvtchworks]

was  that  DALLAS LANGSTON  i  saw  heading  towards  the  water?  you  know  the  TWENTY SIX  year  old  from  MOONLIGHT BEACH?  can  you  believe  they've  only  lived  in  manoa  bay  for EIGHT YEARS,  it  seems  like  so  much  longer.  last  i  checked  they  were  known  around  town  as  the  SKEPTIC  because  of  their  tendency  to  be  RESOURCEFUL  &  CAVALIER,  but  what  else  did  you  expect  from  a  SCORPIO  who  reminds  you  of  A MOSIAC OF PATCHWORK TATTOOS THAT HAVE NO COHESION , GLASSY EYES THAT ARE ALWAYS HIGHLIGHTED BY DARK CIRCLES , DOC MARTENS BEING A WARDROBE STAPLE REGARDLESS OF THE WEATHER AND PILES OF SKETCHBOOKS BEING HOARDED IN AN APARTMENT   …  since  hayden's  disappearance  they  have  been  happily  working  as  a  TATTOO ARTIST  at  SKINCRAFT,  but  that's  all  about  to  change  because  the  eye  HAS  set  their  sights  on  exposing  all  of  their  lies,  as  well  as  [REDACTED].  i  really  hope  they  don't  incriminate  themself. 

stats .

full name: dallas reed langston . nickname(s): n/a date of birth: october 26th . place of birth: chattanooga , tennessee . gender: demi man . sexual orientation: bisexual . height: 6'3 . zodiac: scorpio sun, taurus moon, capricorn rising .

backstory .

dallas was the youngest child born into the family , often drifting somewhere between the atypical eldest son role and baby of the family role . the childrens' parents weren't exactly neglectful but were kept busy with multiple jobs and often relied on the safety of their secluded home in chatanooga to allow the children to tend to each other / themselves . dal spent a lot of his time outdoors , often wandering about or preoccupying himself and his siblings with long walks and impromptu camping trips as they got older .

he was never really pushed to do anything or have many aspirations , often resorting to quitting hobbies before he was able to perfect them . his top priority was always his family , uninterested in doing much of anything that would take a chunk of time away from that .

found himself utterly lost and a bit ashamed once graduation rolled around . all of his peers were already on their way to a bright future — or at least had a plan in place to achieve something . most of his siblings had already flown the nest , creating lives of their own . he opted to follow one of his friends from school to manoa bay for the summer , spending time freeloading on their couch . he didn't expect the city to be for him but he simply . . . never left . for him , it was a push to get a semblance of his life together and he found a job as a glorified secretary at a tattoo shop a few blocks down the street .

scheduling appointments turned into an apprenticeship at the shop . finally , he had something to grasp onto that was entirely his for once in his life . the shop owner at the time paid for dallas to take some community art classes . he's been tattooing on his own at the shop for about two years now and while he's far from the best , he takes great pride in perfecting the one thing that's his . he also enjoys the gratification of giving someone something permanent that more than likely means a lot to them or bears some significance .

listen . . . dallas is my pookiebear but he's essentially a human sloth . if it's anything outside of his job , do not expect him to be hasty . don't expect him to think quickly or make decisions . he's a little too ' go with the flow ' which can occasionally lead to hurt feelings or disappointments . he doesn't really see the point in deadlines or applying any pressure to . . . well . . . anything . his drive resembles the slow , southern drawl he's forcibly outgrown since moving to the city — although an occasional twang still exists when intoxicated , angry or excited . there's not really a malicious bone in his body but his overall dismissiveness / aloofness can be off - putting . he's fine with being an acquired taste .

his label is the skeptic and it fits for two reasons . . . one , he's simply not a quick thinker . i hate to say it but he needs to let things really soak in before he has a solution or feels confident enough to catch on . two , he is a bit jaded and cynical which bleeds over into his perspective . he often doesn't know who to trust or which path to take and doesn't make those decisions quickly .

some funky little hcs .

i have yet to sort out all of his tattoos but in the gifs above , the only canon one is the snake on the hand / wrist . he has a lot of odd and silly ones from tattooing himself , as well .

often found in the alley or on the curb outside of the tattoo shop after hours feeding the stray cats .

his love of nature still holds true despite living in the city . he often travels to more rural / less touristy areas when he needs a break . can also identify certain plants , constellations , insects , etc . it's really the only knowledge he's retained .

wears a cross around his neck despite not being religious . it was a gift from his grandmother and he treasures it solely for that reason .

for the sake of plotting , i'm open for former romantic dynamics because ?? hello ?? i need that ?? but i'm gonna be honest . . . picturing this man in a serious relationship is not realistic . if it ever happened , they must have been incredibly , incredibly patient and forgiving .

hates social media and only uses insta for his business account . has an anonymous twitter for the sake of memes / ranting into the void but nothing else .

big lover of marlboro reds and cool lighters .

connections .

melody — confidant .

riley — dated and ended on a bad note .

lidia — essentially dallas' knight in a pretty sundress .

josh — best friend with a potentially a fruity vibe .

jasper — first friend dallas made in manoa and they've been close ever since .

more coming . . .

[ravenmold]

Pretty Please tell me about "idk man ……. Pirate au" 🥺🥺🥺

Hey PaniC 😌❤️

Surprising absolutely nobody, this is a pirate au for sterek that was inspired by the first season of OFMD. I think specifically that episode where they infiltrated the bougie party of snobby nobles 😂 I started it in March of 2023, literal months before I even found out Mattfoggy and back then every idea I had was sterek.

It's 1300 words but they're all following the more traditional raven structure: little bits of scenes and quotes and ideas and notes to myself so that I can capture the Vibes™. There's really nothing coherent about my writings but I'll share a lil snippet so you can judge it, and then afterwards the plot summary I have so far.

Derek has conflicting feelings about stowaways. Pirates deal with them often, as it’s the easiest way for convicts to escape the immediate vicinity, and pirates avoid law enforcement by design, so it’s an almost logical agreement – except for the fact that most stowaways steal your food, loot, gunpowder, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill a crew member if their safety was threatened. Overall, a loose cannon, and most pirates agree that they’re best dealt with by the sea itself.

Maybe it was because he was a stowaway himself, as a young boy, hiding among crates for a week straight on a horrible smelling supply ship, that he can’t seem to be quite so hard on them. Maybe it’s the fact that when he sees this one, Boyd dragging him about by the scruff of his collar, young face covered in grime and cheekbones stark from malnourishment, he’s reminded instantly of his own voyage to the unknown back in his boyhood. Maybe it’s because of the utter insanity of long months at sea that his next words are, unthinkingly, unprompted, “There you are, lad. Got lost, did you?"

Boyd's eyebrows shoot up.

---

“Derek.” “Don’t call me that.” “It is your name, is it not? Or do you prefer Captain?” “Would you quiet down! If you want to give me away, I prefer you take me directly to the Commander, instead of someone overhearing you and alarming the guards. At least then I’d have some semblance of dignity.” The young man snickers, unexpectedly. “You’re not at all like I remember you.” Derek can’t believe he’s having this conversation. “Yes, well, you were what, a mere lad of ten? And I was so new to captaincy. It would have been more of an insult if you thought I remained the same.” “I was fourteen, and it wasn’t that long ago. I just—I thought. I remember you more … grumbly. You were tired all the time. You sighed a lot.” He has to keep himself from sighing right now, it would only cause the man to laugh more. His disguise is already precarious as it is. “Perhaps you would recall that I had a lot to manage at the time. A rival who attacked my ship. A first mate injured in the process. A stowaway that I had to make a plan with?”

---

“You were after something tonight, weren’t you? Had your charm turned all the way up. Nary an eye could keep away from you.” Stiles’ smile was all curling contentment, the cat that got the cream. “So it worked?” He practically purred. Derek crinkled his nose. “I’m not sure why you’re asking me. I didn’t see you leave with anyone, if that’s what you wanted. But you must not be too sorry if you’re smiling like that.”

And this is the working summary I wrote down for myself:

Stiles had always known what he wanted, since he was a boy hiding on a pirate ship. Had he gotten it? Well, not quite the way he’d wanted. But he was a patient man, and he knew the tides always came back. Derek showed mercy to a stowaway once, in his first year as a pirate captain, and he’s been paying for it ever since.

😂 so what's my plot here???

Well, young pirate captain Derek encounters a stowaway on his ship, and instead of making him walk the plank like he knows he should, he pretends that he hired the boy.

The boy leaves at the next port and they part ways as unlikely friends. Years later, Derek recognises him at a masquerade ball that he's infiltrating and has to try and bribe Stiles to keep quiet. The only bribe Stiles will accept at all is to go work for Derek on his boat again, so at the end of the night Stiles tags along when Derek goes back.

After this I don't remember if they go on more adventures and if Derek just finds out why Stiles is so happy to be coming with him - because he'd developed a crush on Derek years back and when he'd heard about Derek's plan to infiltrate the ball, he concocted his own plan to join in. Also there's some other details I never straightened out properly, like the reason Stiles was a stowaway, and uhm............other things happen in the fic too. But you get the gist 😌 self indulgent pirate shenanigans 😂

....i should watch season 1 of OFMD again, maybe I'd be inspired to continue on it.

[joyfuladorable]

Oh gods not me waking up at 3AM and not being able to go back to sleep cuz my brain keeps thinking about the aftermath of Turtles Forever…

Cuz, y’all… the 03 fam had another home Destroyed. And it’s likely a very bitter thing cuz they never really got a chance to settle? What, with being kidnapped by the Ninja Tribunal and being gone for months, then being zapped to the future and being gone for a Year, then finally making their way back and upgrading it all in a frenzy to spend Months searching for pieces of Splinter and probably not having even a year after the Wedding before the 87 turtles showed up…

How far did that Unmaking get? It probably started in New York and Kept Going even after the turtles teleportaled to the 87 verse. The turtles are probably gonna have to answer a LOT of questions after this, lol

Ugh, uhh, here, a snippet from my brain of a fic I may or may not write:

The messages and calls come in almost as soon as they return to their universe.

There’s the obvious relief and congratulations from April and Casey. A lighthearted text from Angel that reads “what did u guys DO this time???” followed by a string of emojis that Don doesn’t have the brainpower to translate. Mikey’s Justice Force communicator goes off, and he gives a very confusing account of the past few hours and promises to visit soon to spill more details cuz - no - he hasn’t forgotten his next shift as the Turtle Titan is fast approaching (he’d Never forget that even in the midst of a multi-universal apocalypse).

At some point, Karai has a conversation off to the side with Leo and Master Splinter. She bows deep, regrets on regrets weighing her shoulders down and a firm promise that she will aid them by any means necessary to make up for her “error in judgement.” A nice sentiment, for sure. It leaves a sour taste on Donnie’s tongue as he watches this exchange while half-listening to the Professor’s ramble over his shell cell once he’s given a cursory explanation of events. He hangs up not long after, not their friend’s fault, just the fault of this whole situation. The headache that had been simmering since the start of this mess has bloomed into a migraine.

The last call they get is from Leatherhead, confused and concerned. Their crocodilian friend experienced the… Unmaking… alone and had rushed to their lair only to find it trashed and - oh Gods - that’s another big BIG thing to deal with and Donnie just wants to take a Nap.

Mikey interrupts with a shriek, sending Don reeling a bit as his brother snatches his cell to ask Leatherhead if he’s seen Klunk. And oh, yeah, understandable. The cat had gone out hunting at some point today and probably came back to a concerning amount of rubble with no turtles to comfort him.

It’s then that Karai departs, offering better communication in the days to come, and help in… relocating. Raph cuts in that there’s no way they’re trusting her with the location of their potential new home. “Not now. Maybe not Ever.” A statement that Don silently agrees with. She takes the admission with grace and vanishes.

Home. Gone and given then taken and destroyed thrice over at this point. Donnie sighs as he massages his head and closes his eyes. Lucky them. He already has a few places in mind, but - yeah no - they all need sleep and food and some semblance of safety before they can consider any of that.

Thankfully, Leatherhead offers his abode, having found Klunk and willing to meet with the turtles there after grabbing what essentials he can from their (now former) Lair. Mikey, bless his chipper heart, starts planning a slumber party of sorts, hugging Don’s cell between his head and shoulder while rapidly texting April and Casey for supplies. Raph snatches His cell from him to ask for actual useful things that aren’t just junk food. Leo hesitantly joins in, saying he could text Angel to swing by with pizza, which Mikey enthusiastically agrees to.

Donnie huffs at that, glad at the very least, to know they’re all okay. They can bounce back from this, like they always do. He feels a furry palm on his arm, steadying the sway in his stance he hadn’t known he’d gained. Master Splinter smiles at him, an assurance and a promise that only their dad can exude to make them feel better.

Yeah, they’ll be okay.

[5eraphim]

The Sun, The Fool, The Hierophant, and Wheel of Fortune for demoman?

I hope you've had a good weekend!!

Link to the Tarot Card Ask Game Here!

The Fool - How deluded is this yandere regarding their darling? Are they self-aware on any level?

This would depend wildly on his sobriety, but overall, it's a yes. Though, in general, he is more on the carefree side of life, a relative hedonist more concerned with chasing down his next fix rather than carefully planning for the future. Demo is, to his core, a man fixated on chasing his passions, chasing the things in life that excite him the most, and never letting go. So why should he bother about petty details, like whether or not you feel the same devotion he feels for you when instead, he could continue to ride out the high of never leaving your side?

The Hierophant - Could this darling's yandere fool them easily? Or be manipulated by them?

Could you be manipulated by Demo? No, but fooling him would be challenging, too. Demo's lived a hard life, and while nothing makes him happier than moments when you return his affections, he wouldn't allow this to blind him to any ulterior motives entirely. Demo's worked so hard for everything in life, and he's just as diligent in protecting. 

Wheel of Fortune - Would this yandere's behavior stay the same over time? If not, why do they remain the same?

Its unlikely Demo could keep things the same even if he wanted to. He's so driven by whims and impulses he's not the type to be consistent. Unfortunately, that would entail risking the safety of the both of you to up the ante and seek out your next thrill, but as mentioned before, even when in dangerous situations, Demo is protective to the core and does crave at least some semblance of a normal loving life with you. And when off the battlefield and alone, Demo loves to take things slow and find somewhere quiet and undisturbed to relax with you.

The Sun - When would this yandere feel content with their situation? It's complicated, as he does want to give you a good life, one where the two of you can be together and away from the rest of the world. However, he can't ignore the call to action he's always known, and for his own sake, he wants you to stay with him no matter what. He knows better than anyone how much it hurts to be all on your own and wants to protect you from that at all costs. In his mind, no fait is worse than being forced to live like that, and the closer he is to protect you, the better off you are in the long run. Demo is sympathetic to your discomfort but ultimately believes what he's doing is for your best.

[elisaphoenix13-cullrian]

Barely Breathing (But Still Alive) (Ch.3)

Being so close to the Breach…it set Dorian's teeth on edge. It felt unnatural and as warped as it looked so he was rather glad that they were there to close it. He, as well as the many other mages, stood ready to close the rift on the Herald's command. As Trevelyan started to inch closer to it, Dorian slammed his staff into the ground and focused all of his mana into closing the Breach. The second he did though, he was desperate to stop. It was like the Breach was draining him of his power–maybe even his very life–at an alarming pace. At least faster than he intended to give it. 

When the Herald finally did close the Breach, Dorian had to use his staff for support. It was as if someone had cut the strings and from a quick glance, he wasn't the only one feeling that way. Regardless of how drained they felt though, everyone was relieved that the hole in the sky was closed. There would be time to rest later, but people were already celebrating before they even started their short journey back to Haven. He had to admit that the happiness around him was infectious and while he didn't outwardly show his joy, it did lessen the exhaustion he was feeling.

A hot meal awaited everyone when they got back to Haven, but even though it was hardly an upgrade to the usual gruel, Dorian couldn't find it in him to complain. At least there was some semblance of meat in it this time…even if it did look a little gray and sat heavy in his stomach.

"I almost expected to find you back in your cabin and sleeping," Trevelyan says as he joins Dorian by the fire.

"And miss the party? Perish the thought!" Dorian says with a smirk. "Yes, I'm a bit tired, but this victory was well earned. I'll admit I might turn in soon enough."

"Everyone deserves the rest," Trevelyan smiles. "Especially the mages. I've heard closing the Breach drained them. Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine with some rest," Dorian assures him. "Don't show me special attention. I wasn't the only one who risked their life."

"I only wondered if the exhaustion went beyond what the mages claim." The Herald says. "Sometimes I feel like they put on a brave face."

"Maybe some do. You are the Herald after all. What you've done to stop the Breach is more than the help they offered. Not to mention that you took them all in when they were banished from Ferelden."

"I did what was right."

"And they are grateful." Dorian says before putting the last bit of food into his mouth. "Not just the mages. Half of Thedas at the very least."

When the Herald remains quiet, Dorian hands off his empty bowl before getting up and making his way to his cabin for the night. He was exhausted and depleted of his mana, but he didn't lie when he told Trevelyan that all he needed was a good night's sleep. But halfway to his destination, an explosion bursts in the sky and he startles before turning and following the Herald and his advisors to the gate. There, he found out that closing the Breach only started something bigger. They were being attacked by a self proclaimed Tevinter darkspawn who had infected the templars with red lyrium.

Templars that were practically at their gates.

The strange boy that came to warn them disappeared as if into thin air while he followed Trevelyan and few others to fend off the attack, but they were only able to do enough to get the villagers to safety. The avalanche they caused saved them time, but it was short lived when an Archdemon appeared. Everyone was forced to fall back and Dorian assisted the Herald with finding anybody possibly stuck or lagging behind.

"Fall back to the chantry!" Dorian hears the commander over the explosions.

It was as good a plan as any, and Dorian headed for the large building until he heard screams for help. There were still more stragglers and the red templars were closing in on them. There were fewer and fewer soldiers to help the defenseless and whoever remained was too preoccupied to help them.

Dorian knew he had to do something. He couldn't just seek shelter in the chantry and ignore the cries for help. If there was any chance these people could survive, he was going to help them. No matter how exhausted he was. He had very little mana but there were still ways to use magic without using blood…at least one way.

It wasn't exactly a common practice. It was frowned upon because it was almost a guarantee the mage would open their body to be possessed by a demon…but if it helped one person…

Dorian turned away from the safety of the village chantry and stood on the ledge before drawing on the last remaining bits of his magic. He directed bolts of lightning at every templar that got close to a fleeing villager, and when his mana was completely depleted, he focused on his very life. His essence. He drew on that and his power exploded. His staff was cast away in favor of allowing the magic to flow freely from his hands, his fingertips, to any enemy that dared approach or attempt to take a life. His control was waning rapidly though. Dorian could feel it slipping as his storm magic shot out and hit random areas that were fortunately free of innocent people. He could hear the demons whispering in his ear to let go. 

Let go of your control and let us help.

It was tempting. Dorian's willpower was dwindling and the pain of drawing from his own life force was becoming unbearable. He felt like his skin was melting and his lungs burned…then he realized they burned because he was crying out from the pain. Crying out from trying to keep control for as long as humanly possible. Dorian didn't expect to call me out of this alive, but the longer he kept control, the longer the people would survive.

But the demons crept closer and he could hear their distorted laughter ringing louder by the second. Their attempts to possess him were becoming more aggressive and easier. Dorian could practically feel their outstretched hands–

"Enough."

That single word sent the demons away with an angry screech and Dorian's magic was severed, leaving him to slump back into waiting arms. Somewhere in the far recesses of his mind, he was grateful for those arms because his strength was non-existent. If he was told to run, he knew he wouldn't be able to obey. His survival now relied on whoever had the heart to save him from the fate he damned himself to.

Dorian floated between oblivion and consciousness after he was lifted. The pain had dampened since his magic was severed, but it still remained, crawling under his skin. He could feel his body trying to heal and his magic trying to return, but everything felt discombobulated. Like it wasn't sure where it belonged anymore. Dorian remembered waking just long enough to feel himself shaking but what was causing it remained to be seen. The pain? The chaos? Perhaps the cold?

All of it.

"Blessed...who stand before…corrupt and the wicked…falter. …the peacekeepers…champions…just."

Dorian heard the prayers. Parts of it at least when part of his mind was conscious. But soon he completely succumbed to oblivion. There was no pain, no dreams…there was nothing. When he finally woke up to full consciousness since his magic was cut off, he was able to open his eyes. The pain still trembled underneath his skin but at least he felt a little more normal. Which was putting it lightly. 

The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. How long had he been unconscious? There were no explosions, no screaming…in fact, if Dorian really listened, he could hear the occasional whisper. Then things became more apparent. Such as the mattress he was lying on, the heavy fur keeping him warm, and the roof over his head. He almost thought maybe it had all been a bad dream and he was still in Minrathous, but the pain wasn't going away. 

And when his magic didn't heed his call for a simple magelight, reality crashed onto him like ice water. It sent Dorian into a panic and he struggled with the fur draped over him but it was like fighting with the bear it must have belonged to. He didn't have the strength and he almost fell out of bed in his distress, but he was suddenly stopped and held in place.

"Lord Pavus, you are still weak. Please stay in bed," the healer standing over Dorian's bed looks at him calmly as he gently helps the mage get comfortable again. 

"Where–" Dorian winces at the raw feeling in his throat and the croak that came out from disuse.

"Safe in Skyhold. The Inquisitor helped us escape Haven and led us to a fortress in the Frostback Mountains. You've been asleep for almost two weeks now." The man says. "It's a miracle you survived. You saved many lives and there are many that wish to thank you."

Dorian weakly holds up a hand to stop the healer. "I didn't…didn't do it for praise."

Maker, it was a chore just speaking a single sentence, and it must have been obvious on his face because the healer stepped away, coming back a few minutes later with a bowl. It steamed and the smell made Dorian's stomach rumble loudly, even if it did end up being a simple broth. Despite his lack of strength, Dorian adamantly refused to be spoon fed and had the healer put the bowl in his lap. Dorian's hand trembled with the spoon as he filled it and slowly brought it to his mouth, but he managed. Half of it was gone before his hand gave out and made him drop the spoon into the remaining broth.

Then another hand reached out to grab the spoon and the bowl and Dorian looked up to find Trevelyan smiling at him with a mixture of kindness and relief.

"Please let me help. I promise not to tell anyone." He says softly.

Dorian shoved aside his pride and nodded once, opening his mouth when the other man brought the spoon to his mouth. The first few moments passed in silence, admittedly awkward for Dorian, but his hunger won out.

"I've never seen anything like it," Trevelyan says. "What you did in Haven…you looked like you were glowing because of how much magic you were using. Everyone said that you would be possessed and that we should leave you to distract them so we could get away. But…" Trevelyan pauses as he helps Dorian eat another spoonful of broth. "I couldn't leave you behind like that."

Dorian blinks at him in surprise. "You were the one to stop me?"

"No. As much as I wanted to, I didn't have the means to, and someone else beat me to it anyway." The other man admits. "Cullen approached you–"

Dorian chokes on his next serving of broth and stares at Trevelyan in bewilderment. "The commander? Why?"

The Inquisitor shrugs. "I haven't asked. But he walked up to you, using his shield to deflect your magic, and when he grabbed your arm, you seemed to…collapse. Cullen picked you up and carried you away from Haven with the survivors. He's been close ever since, standing vigil nearby. I had to send him to get some rest just this morning."

"He thinks I'm a danger," Dorian realizes until Trevelyan shakes his head.

"No. He was worried that you would never wake up. Cullen was quite adamant that you didn't pose a danger when Vivienne brought up the possibility."

How could Cullen be so sure of that? Dorian wasn't, but it wasn't something he would willingly admit out loud. The second he gave any outward notion that he believed he could be possessed, he would be made Tranquil. Something he briefly panicked already happened, but none of his emotions felt muted and he could still feel the Fade despite how distorted it still felt. His magic was still there. It made him wonder how Cullen stopped him. Dorian had his suspicions about the man no longer taking lyrium, and even a templar actively taking it was never able to calm a mage when they did what Dorian did. The attempts were very few and far between in recorded history, and all failed…so how did Cullen do it?

"How…" Dorian mumbles. "It's supposed to be impossible."

"He said something about using a form of Silence. It only works with physical touch." Trevelyan sets the now empty bowl aside. "He could probably explain it better than I can, but you should rest for now. It's past midnight."

Dorian nods in agreement and slowly lays back down. He could feel sleep coming on and his body was already heavy. What happened at Haven was something to be pondered about later when Dorian's mind was less jumbled and it could understand whatever needed to be explained to him.

"I…thank you." Dorian mumbles.

"Thank you. A lot of us survived because of what you did."

"I was just doing the right thing." Dorian murmurs, echoing what Trevelyan has said to him that fateful night. 

Clearly the man was rubbing off on him.

[a-shadowedvales]

So… in the additional media of Stranger Things (specifically the comics I’m mentioning), it was initially Brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as Eleven was. It was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. And I just…. sure Henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but I think I am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

I genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and Brenner is far more intriguing than the show. Everything with 9/9.5, Ricky, and Francine. Eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. Those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. Eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. And they all had such a range of interesting powers. I firmly stand with the idea that Jane is the only one who can contact The Void.

Brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out Terry was pregnant. He discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. There would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. Because of this, I would not put it past a man like Brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” aka Eleven. Eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. Brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

Back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because Jane was 011. So there were at least ten kids before her. But I always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. That they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. With flying colours.

I just think the whole Rainbow Room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. Boring and predictable. I think at this point my portrayal of her time in Hawkins Lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. Where having the Rainbow Room, although Eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. Albeit extremely warped and toxic. Knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. Doesn’t sit well with me. I think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. Which is why Kali is also so important to her growth. I thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. Although Peter becoming Vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

Maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, Peter Ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. But before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. Peter is shot on the spot, and Eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. In this timeline, Henry would be Vecna, but Henry would not be Peter Ballad.

When Eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, Brenner had the eight children killed. Kali had already escaped. This was the main cause for Peter to gain Eleven’s trust and try to get her out. Because if Brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way Eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

When Eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with Peter. Brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a Peter, that she must have been dreaming. Eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given Peter told her of the day Terry broke in the lab, but Brenner is convincing enough to make Eleven believe it was all in her head. Say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

I still do wanna keep the Henry Creel canon, and keep him as 001. Brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. Brenner definitely wants to be able to control Henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. Killing him would be too big of a loss.

When Eleven is ten years old, Henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto Hawkins Lab. He almost kills Brenner by snapping his bones, but Eleven manages to stop him. Her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends Henry to the Upside Down. She does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. Brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat Henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. Eleven is rewarded for her efforts. Although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

Brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. Also loved the idea of Brenner sending her into The Void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

By the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the Upside Down is basically what we see in canon. Because she passed out the moment after she sent Henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. For two years she believed this, until making contact with the Demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

Due to her saving Brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. She happened to be there. Saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) Brenner constantly thanks her. But in a very condescending way. Tells her: “you saved me so I can continue saving you.” Aka, harness your abilities and see what else I can achieve from you. Despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. That she owes him something further.

I don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. Her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. Surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. Her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with Henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. It makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

It also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. They would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. As far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. Everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with Benny, I'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. Where she followed the boys home without thought.

Also it's important to note that after time, Jane does understand that Peter Ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from Terry) who wanted the best for her. When she remembers him, knows that Brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. He was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. This is another catalyst as to why after season two, Jane never refers to Brenner as papa. She does not give him that sort of credit.

[homemade-ghosts]

Why do PWs say that the same storyline from Season 1 is being recycled? That EJ has lost two girls to Ricky? Both storylines on the surface can be considered the same, sure but when you dig deeper it’s not the same because both storylines didn’t happen the exact same way to get that end result. It just bothers me that even the Rinis are saying it too. Do you think Tim Federle and the writers recycled the same triangle storyline from Season 1? I personally don’t think so.

You’re right, on the surface, the love triangles are the same. In both situations, the girl Ricky loves is in a relationship with EJ — but that’s kind of the point. The similarities are purposeful and meant to highlight how much Ricky has changed and the difference between his (former) love for Nini and his love for Gina.

My little brain can only retain so much information lol, so I can’t point out every way in which s1/s3 Ricky and the respective love triangles are different from one another without, like, rewatching the entire series — or at least s1 — but I’ll do my best to cover the basics. 

Ricky’s love for Nini was born out of a selfish desire to hold onto some semblance of his past & every choice he made in their relationship was governed by his fear of change. Ricky’s decision to audition for the musical, an event that kickstarts the entire plot of the show, wasn’t just about getting Nini back. Ricky wanted to be with her, sure, but it isn’t until  he learns of  his parents’ marriage being on the rocks that he gets the idea to join theatre. He finds his dad, alone in the kitchen (trying to cook a whole frozen chicken in an InstantPot for some reason? lol) refusing to call his mom and he doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand why his dad isn’t on a plane to Chicago right now, why he isn’t doing everything he can to fix his broken marriage, “Shouldn’t he be fighting to save this?” Ricky asks. & it’s only then that he plans to “win” Nini back the way he wishes, so desperately, that his dad would “fight” to win his mom back. If he & Nini could work it out, then there was hope for his parents relationship, too. If he & Nini could work it out, then everything could go back to the way it was. Nothing — not the girl, not his family dynamic, not him, not his life — would have to change. 

So, despite the fact that, to the best of his knowledge, Nini is perfectly happy in her new relationship with EJ, Ricky forces his way back into Nini’s life. He joins theatre, giving no credence to the fact that it makes Nini uncomfortable, that she doesn’t want him there — because, truthfully, what Nini wanted was irrelevant to Ricky. What really mattered was what Nini could give him. His home life was becoming increasingly unstable and Nini, as his oldest friend and the only girlfriend he’s ever had, offered him respite from that. She was the kind of safety, familiarity and sameness that Ricky craved. 

Even when Ricky starts devoting more time to his role as Troy, practicing dance steps late into the night, it’s not because Nini’s the lead and he wants the show to be great for her, it’s because he wants to impress her, to prove himself. He’ll “show [Nini] [he’s] not a quitter at this, so she realizes [he’s] not a quitter at [them].” He’ll put in the effort, not for Nini, but rather if it means he’ll get Nini back.

Contrast that with s3 and the differences are pretty glaring. s1 Ricky shows up at auditions with the express purpose of getting Nini back, of keeping his life from changing any more than it already has — whereas s3 Ricky shows at camp without any ulterior motive, craving the very change he once fought so hard against. As he drives to Shallow Lake, he sings “give me empty pages, give me something new. […] I’m never going back to who I’ve been, I'm never going back to way back when. I’m taking my time, won't be defined by who I was back then. I’m never going back again, again, again.” The boy who once feared change is now actively seeking it out.

Where s1 Ricky effectively forced his way into Nini’s life by joining theatre, despite her making it very clear she didn’t want him there, s3 Ricky does the exact opposite. He respects Gina’s boundaries, he waits for her to ask if they can start over. He doesn’t force his way back into her life, but rather waits to be invited in. He lets her guide the conversation so that she’s comfortable. He even apologizes to her for being  too “intense” during wdykal (despite the fact that she was the one being “intense,” for obvious reasons) because he was so afraid that he’d made her uncomfortable when he surprise spin-dipped her and that’s why she left rehearsal early.

& although he is ultimately not the reason Nini & EJ breakup, Ricky does make a (very) conscious effort to get between them early in s1 — s3 Ricky however, literally helps Gina plan a surprise promposal for EJ. He’s given multiple opportunities to put a wedge between Gina & EJ, something s1 Ricky would’ve relished, but he doesn’t. He leaves movie night when he suspects EJ is hiding something from Gina because he knows that, if he stays, he’ll want to bring it up to Gina and that’s not his place (I know plenty of people think that Ricky actually left because he’d technically lied to her about not getting Gina those chocolates on Valentine’s Day, so when she he overheard her saying she does “not do well with liars” that immediately came to mind — especially after Tim posted the original script with Ricky’s confession — but Ricky looks at EJ right before he leaves, not Gina, so I still maintain that he left because he knew EJ was hiding something). When EJ goes to Ricky for advice, Ricky could’ve easily told EJ what Gina had told him in confidence, upsetting both of them and causing a fight, but he doesn’t. He stays out of it.

Where s1 Ricky dedicated himself to theatre simply because he thought it would help him get Nini back, s3 Ricky rehearses his lines & commits to Frozen because he understands how much finally getting the lead means to Gina and he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Where s1 Ricky left the show on Opening Night because he didn’t think he didn’t think he was good enough for the role and was afraid he’d ruin Nini’s “big moment” (and lets be honest, because leaving was the easier thing to do) s3 Ricky knows that the actual best thing he can do is show up for the girl he loves. He wants to work to be the leading man he knows that she deserves.

In s1 & s2, communication was a huge issue for Ricky & Nini. He couldn’t say I love you and Nini was completely unwilling to understand why — whereas, in s3, Ricky is much more emotionally available and he literally tells Gina that it’s hard for him not to say how he feels. When he tries to tell her after Prom (believing that he has to before the doc trailer comes out — potentially because he knows what it feels like to have someone confess their feelings for you in a very public forum *cough* Nini singing “I Think I Kinda Ya Know” and then posting it for all of Instagram to see, as a way of telling Ricky that she loves him *cough* & he doesn’t want Gina to have to feel that kind of discomfort/shock) Gina knows exactly why he doesn’t say it. She knows that he’s doing it for her, so that she doesn’t have to carry the burden of his feelings while dealing with her own, post-EJ breakup. 

& then there’s Ricky’s desire for stability being in direct opposite to Nini’s desire for something new, something different. She wanted to leave East High, to experience life outside of SLC, while Ricky & Gina just wanted to find a home right where they were. Ricky & Gina, in spite of their time apart in s2, were always walking in the same direction, craving the same things.

Ultimately, it comes down to this: Ricky’s love for Nini was selfish and regressive, it held Nini back from pursing her passions and turned Ricky into someone he, by his own admission, didn’t want to be. Their relationship was built entirely on history — no present and certainly not future. Ricky’s love for Gina, however, is one that’s selfless and pushes him to be more confident, better, as he forges ahead into the future and embraces change. 

As for the whole “EJ’s lost two girls to Ricky” element of your ask, that is — excuse my French — complete bullshit. Both breakups were EJ’s own doing. Nini didn’t end things with EJ because she still had feelings for Ricky (even though she did) she ended things because he violated her privacy by stealing and going through her phone and because he literally poisoned a girl so that she could be the lead in their summer camp’s production of The Music Man — which is not only an awful thing to do, but also made Nini feel like EJ didn’t believe in her, that he didn’t think she could get the lead on her own merit, without his helping hand. She couldn’t trust him, point blank. That’s why she broke up with him, it had nothing to do with Ricky. & Gina didn’t breakup with EJ because of or for Ricky either, but rather because EJ treated her like a chore all summer. He didn’t make time for her, he made her feel unseen and unheard, he kept things from her. & that’s without addressing the fact that Gina & EJ were at two completely different places in their lives, with her experiencing some aspects of childhood for the first time while EJ’s entering adulthood. 

If EJ took some accountability for his actions and stopped reflexively blaming Ricky for his own faults, then maybe he would’ve realized that.

If you want an answer as to why PWs (& rinis — though, like I’ve said before, the Venn diagram of people that are rinis and people that are pws is a circle) say that the s3 love triangle is just a repeat of s1, that’s two-fold. Mainly, I think, it’s because they have no media literacy and are incapable of understanding a story that is not spoon-fed to them. They never look beyond the surface, so they see Ricky & EJ in a love triangle with a girl and automatically think, “same two guys, same love triangle.” without any nuance. Adding onto that, I think, is the fact that they’re bitter that Gina is now The Main Girl and not Nini, so they want to belittle Gina by claiming that, whatever Gina has done, Nini did it first. It gives them some misguided sense of power. It makes them feel better about the fact that their fave is not only not The Main Girl™ anymore, but she isn’t even A Girl™, because she’s no longer on the show.

Sorry, I feel like this response is all over the place & I didn’t quite say everything I wanted to say the way I wanted to say it — but if we waited for me to come up with the exact right words, we’d both be waiting a very long time lol

[phantatrix]

The Silence of Cyber City

[After mercilessly killing everyone in Cyber City, Spamton wrestles with the guilt around his own role in the genocide.]

(TW: Implied Suicide at the end)

“Kris…I made you proud, didn’t I?” 

Spamton stared at the ground. The red carpet seemed almost gray to him. The vibrant colors of the Pandora Palace were muted to him. The neon lights and signs outside weren’t as bright as they normally were even though they were the same as they’ve always been. 

And to think that all of this was for his keys, right?

“Yes.”

The blue lightner didn’t look at him. Instead, they gazed into the distance. Despite everything the two of them had been through in the search for his keys, they never were one for much talking. The few times they did speak unnerved Spamton in a way he hadn’t felt since that mysterious voice first called on the phone all those years ago. This time was no exception. 

“Didn’t I?”

Spamton couldn’t help but ask again. He had planned to manipulate the lightner from the start. Despite his intentions, he never meant for everything to turn violent. Was it possible to avoid violence at all with this lightner? Was he always destined for this path? As if he couldn’t fall lower in life? 

If he had known from the start that the search for his keys would become genocidal, would he still have agreed to follow Kris?

“Yes.” 

Kris’s answer should’ve taken at least a little bit of the weight off of his shoulders, and he wished it did. Yet, as he closed his eyes, he remembered the tiny seed of twisted excitement that had begun to grow inside him. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, it was the first time in a long time that he felt he had some semblance of control over his life. Focusing on finding his keys by any means necessary meant he didn’t have to think about the truth he had learned from the phone, and for a brief amount of time, he felt at peace. He didn’t want to lose that peace again. Kris was proud of him and that should be enough.

“Didn’t I?

And Blue. Oh Blue. After all these years, Blue still cared about him and had sought him out to bring him to safety. Why didn’t he care sooner? Blue deserved his fate for waiting too long. But, as Spamton watched his own heart tear apart his old friend, he couldn’t help but feel remorse that only grew stronger and more painful after each passing minute since. Blue found him and he killed him. Blue cared about him and he killed him. Blue loved him and he killed him.

He killed him.

He should’ve killed Kris instead. Maybe then and only then, he would’ve had his second chance and lead the life he could’ve had before his goddamn arrogance and ego took over.

“No.”

Maybe this was the truth. Maybe this was the truth that Spamton wanted to hear. Either way, that one word granted him permission to leave Kris. 

Well, it was too late now. 

A red hot anger burned deep inside him. Before he could think twice, he grabbed his green puppet strings around him and wrapped them around Kris’s neck. He pulled and pulled as the lightner struggled for air. As quickly as that anger had boiled over, it faded away only to be replaced by an icy blue fear. Kris laughed weakly.

They had him right where they wanted him.

The vivid image dissipated and Spamton was standing next to Kris, who had yet to look at him. He unclenched his fists but no strings fell to the floor. In this moment, he didn’t feel anger or fear, only exhaustion.

“Guess you really can’t please everybody,” he choked out.

Spamton limped out of the room, refusing to look back at Kris despite the temptation to do so. As he stumbled through the empty halls, old memories of his glory days taunted him. His evenings in the Color Cafe flirting with Swatch, his nights chatting it up with Queen and the other esteemed guests and boasting of his deals, his days calling that evil phone that gave him everything he could’ve ever wanted and more. Now it was all gone and worse.

He stopped dead in his tracks. What was he going to do now? Crawl into the dumpster he called home as if he had no part to play in creating this hell? How could he go home after all of this? 

Illuminated by the haunting lights of Cyber City outside the grand windows, he dragged his beaten and bruised body down towards the basement. Years ago, when the voice on the phone disappeared abruptly and he started to lose the success he had garnered, he would visit this basement where the defunct robot rested and pray to it. It was a lightner’s dream, what could be more powerful than that?

Sure enough, the robot was exactly where he had left it. He ran towards it, tripping and stumbling in the process, the pain still just as fresh as before. Spamton threw himself before the sacred being. He hadn’t felt this alone in so many years.

Spamton prayed. But nobody answered.

And Spamton begged. But nobody answered.

And Spamton wept. But nobody answered.

.

.

.

It was silent in Cyber City. For a long time, everything was silent. Too silent. Except for a single splash from deep within the Pandora Palace.

[crab-instruments]

What’s Coming to Me Part 15

Master <Part 14 Part 16>

Pairing: Crosshair x Sniper Reader (GN)

Rating and warning: killing and ambivalence to killing

Beta Reader: @unfocusedfish

a/n: My beta reader Fish shared this song about WWI snipers from Sabaton many months ago, so I'm sharing it with y'all. A Ghost in the Trenches Historical version

A few seconds ticked by, your heart beat keeping time. Everyone was suspended in silence. The elevator made a ding! ready to close the doors and move on. The sound acted as a signal for your instincts, setting you back in motion. You spun the knife in your hand and flicked it at one of the guards with a snap of your wrist, shooting the other two quickly with your rifle a moment after it left your fingers. They dropped to the ground, stopping the doors from closing. The sound of the doors closing on their bodies before springing open again filled the tense atmosphere.

Tsk. Four people killed in less than two minutes. Being good is more difficult than I thought.

You stepped over the bodies, treating them more like obstacles and not bothering to hide them this time. There was too much disruption to keep up the façade, the facility was alerted to the invaders. The three of you would stick out. Once outside the door, you slung your rifle around front and gestured for the two to follow your lead. They hesitated, but you didn’t give them time to think of another plan. You crouched forward, hugging the wall and staying out of sight.

The other two close behind, you pulled out your holopad to check on the location of The Batch. Not too far from your current route, it would be easy to grab the general and commander’s equipment and reconvene. Hopefully you were right about where their equipment was being stored as well as possibly finding something to unlock their cuffs.

The archway at the end of the hall was large and important looking, perfect for storing prisoner’s belongings and discussing evil plans. You could see large computer screens and consoles with assorted buttons. Unfortunately, it was packed with guards and technicians. You quickly pulled the Jedi and clone out of their sightline, squatting down lower before being be spotted.

“Watch it!” Commander Scowl did not appreciate your manhandling but your patience was all but gone. You shot the clone a look before remembering it would be obscured by your helmet. Assessing the number of men inside the room, it would be easier for you to snipe them off one at a time, but you couldn’t guarantee the safety of the two in your care. Leaving them alone was impractical, as well. With the first taste of freedom, you were sure they would split and possibly get in your way. You looked down at the tools at your disposal. If you ran at least half way into the room, the attention would be away from the door. You could drop a smoke bomb to decrease visibility. Hmm… this could be fun.

You shoved your rifle in the clone’s hands, much to his confusion. His expression was perfect, well worth the price of admission. You pulled out and extended your collapsible Kali sticks, the Beskar shining in the dim hall light. With one quick look back inside the room, you motioned for them to stay put and hoped they understood. The creases in the clone’s face became deeper as he tried to understand his current situation, but the Jedi recovered faster.

“You’re with Clone Force 99, aren’t you?” You stopped prepping your smoke grenade to give a thumbs up. Finally, you had some semblance of trust. The warm smile Kenobi gave in response almost made you drop the grenade, your brain stuttering. He really was attractive, Hunter wasn’t kidding. Shaking it off, you pulled the pin and rolled it forward into the room. The smoke filled the room and the guards shouted in response.

Not giving them time to react, you burst through the room, slicing the air with your Kali sticks. It took more effort to knock down each guard than with a blaster shot; a few solid hits before they fell down unconscious. Blocking an incoming blade with one stick, you swung the other at the guard’s torso before smacking him down in the head with the first. A movement in the corner of your eye forced you to dodge, rolling out of the way of a few blaster shots. Popping out of the roll, you blocked two blaster shots, curving the last one to hit the shooter.

The smoke cloud started to dissipate, revealing only two left standing. Getting a running start, you slid feet first and used a stick to topple over one as you slipped by. You jumped up and gave a knockout combo to the other who was unprepared for your change in elevation. As he crumpled to the ground, you caught your breath, the injuries setting in. A scratching noise caught your attention, a guard still crawling on the ground attempting to be sneaky. Rolling your eyes behind your helmet, you collapsed one Kali stick and flicked your wrist, the Beskar bludgeoning him unconscious with a clank. You picked up the discarded stick and holstered both.

You studied the room now that you weren’t in attack mode. Next to the giant screen were four drawers; perfect for placing prisoner equipment. The body closest to you had a keycard clip to their belt. It was easily pilfered and opened the drawers. There was a clone helmet, regulation blaster, and what you imagined to be a lightsaber among various other prisoner weapons. You picked up the blaster and hilt, placing the items in the helmet. Before you left, you searched the body that had the key card once more to find the keys to their cuffs.

Shaking off the pain, you slowly trudged over to where you left the clone and the Jedi. Before you could pass the threshold, your own rifle barrel was pointed in your face. Commander Scowl was ready to kill you, even after knowing you were the last one standing. Where’s the trust, man?

“Stand down, Cody.” General Attractive placed a hand lightly on the rifle, lowering it away from a kill shot. The clone sneered but he couldn’t go against his general. You watched as he twitched under your cruel gaze, or what he assumed was somewhat hostile. Your helmet covered your expression and you enjoyed watching him squirm, unable to do what he wanted.

When an uncomfortable amount of time passed, you shook your head and unlocked the cuffs. The two flinched in surprise, their hands now free. With one hand, you requested your rifle back and offered the helmet with the other. The Jedi must be itching for his lightsaber back, the idea of him being in pain from being far from it crossed your mind.

TV static and garbled voices from the room behind you caught your attention. You turned, quickly studying each display. The Batch had split up and covered three screens. Seeing as they weren’t actively hiding, you alerted Hunter of your completion status. He gave an affirmative grunt and ordered you to regroup with the squad.

You confirmed but didn’t move from the console keyboard, studying each panel closely before switching to a new camera angle. After staring at each poor quality screen three times, you finally got a jagged, rushed movement on one. Weaver had an entourage and was heading towards the loading bay.

Gar hut’uun! Running away? When I’m done with you, you will wake up tomorrow in three different barrels, in three different systems!

The clang of metal on metal reverberated in the room as you slammed your fist into the panel. The Jedi and the clone balked and looked in your direction with differing emotions expressed on their faces.

“Ah, I can sense you’re angry about something, why don’t you—” General Attractive stepped into your space to calm you, but you didn’t need him to. You were a professional, a momentary lapse in focus wouldn’t stop you. You swiftly locked down the loading bay, delaying Weaver long enough for you to put a bullet in his head or a knife in his neck or—

Your body turned with a snap as you quickly readied your sniper and headed toward The Batch, pausing to signal for the other two to follow curtly. Commander Scowl didn’t show any more annoyance towards you than normal, but the Jedi studied your face before moving. Explosions and vibrations made it easy to locate The Batch, meeting their all out attack in a central location. The clone rushed toward the battlefield, broken starfighters and other space crafts littered around the large room. Based on the state of the ships, they were here for maintenance on top of being caught in the battle.

Staying back, you provided suppressing fire to cover him as he disappeared into smoke and field of blaster shots. The Jedi stayed back and blocked blaster shots but made no attempt or indication to push forward. It took all of your focus to stay in place and not immediately confront Weaver. It was something you had to do alone, so you had no plans on having any followers. Trying not to show your frustration, you gestured for him to move in.

“I would join them, but I worry you’re going to do something dangerous and ill-advised on your own. You have that look about you, I’m unfortunately very experienced in spotting it.” His playful yet concerning tone was enough to let your guard down for a moment. You huffed, a weird sound inside your helmet. You weren’t sure if the Jedi heard, turning to see a tiny, victorious grin on his face.

This Jedi is getting in the way.

Another explosion near the two of you caught your attention and the Jedi could no longer ignore his men. “Don’t do anything reckless!” It wasn’t long before he vanished into the smoke. Once out of sight, you turned off your comm completely. Couldn’t have any interruptions.

Diving to dodge a falling cat walk, you rolled out of the way and ran towards the loading bay. Any unlucky guard who stood in the way of your rampage was shot or stabbed with barely any thought towards the new leaf you were attempting to turn over. Removing this man from existence was more important than a moral code. When you finally breached the loading bay, you were met with heavily armed guards. With a concentrated fury fueling every move, you took each one down efficiently, sacrificing dodging approaching blows for speed. One guard threw a substance that stuck to your helmet, making it difficult to see and leaving you open to a few hits. Aggressively, you ripped off your helmet and threw it hard at one of the assailants before stepping forward and shooting him in his face.

When all of the guards within a few meters had cleared, you took a few forced, haggard breaths. You weren’t able to hide the ferocity on your face, the once emotionless, professional mask cracked. The high pitched hum was still ringing from the explosions but you could hear the clicks of blasters as the barrels pointed in your direction. Pushing your messy hair out of your face with a free hand, you focused your eyes on the next wave of attackers. You concentrated on finding the fastest way to take them down, not accounting for the injuries you would sustain by using that method. Just survive and complete the mission.

You got one shot off before Weaver’s voice cut through, halting everyone. “Hold your fire!” Though you could hear his voice, you couldn’t locate him. A slow clap reverberated in the large room, each echo filled with the same arrogance as the original. It grated on your nerves, filing down the little patience you had left.

“Shev’la. Oh, how far you’ve fallen. You were once the best bounty hunter in the entire galaxy and now… now you’re reduced to rescue missions? Working with a team doesn’t suit you, you shine too brightly on your own.” Your grip on your sniper tightened. There was one time those words would have gotten to you, and you would have agreed with them. But he no longer had that hold on you. He’s wrong... Just survive and complete the mission…

Weaver appeared from your left, dragging a body wrapped up in wires next to him. A recognizable color scheme and tattooed face came into the light as the body was dropped to the ground. Crosshair’s brown eyes gazed up at you, your weakness out in the open. “Before you think about shooting me, understand that I’ve got a bomb on him that will go off if my vitals drop. Of course, you could shoot me anyway, accomplishing what you came here to do and what you failed to.” Weaver gestured with his head for his men to load up on a ship, leaving the three of you alone. His eyes were dull and lifeless, yet expressed his malice. The color was the same as the blue on the badge attached to his uniform. The only thing about him that wasn’t particular and neat were his eyebrows, even his evil smirk symmetrical.  

“Never did I expect you to flip. Never! And to the clones, no less! Oh, it’s almost tragic when you think about it. The clones you now care for as your own will turn against you one day and very soon. It’s written in the stars… or rather, their programming, but the stars sounds more striking.” Weaver shrugged, nonchalantly.

Everything about his mannerisms were aggressively curt, radiating a powerful anger and coerced, cheery attitude. “I wish I could be there when it happens, the look on your face when you realize everything you’ve acquired the past few months will come crashing down with one measly command.” Weaver placed a foot on Crosshair’s body and leaned over. “I had hoped to take you with me when the Republic fell, but this is a fitting end for someone like you; to die completely and utterly alone. You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

You tried your best not to let him manipulate you. Weaver was tipping his hand, revealing so much information, but what did that all mean for you and The Batch? What did the future hold? What if he was right?

Weaver used that moment to shoot you in the shin, forcing you to fall forward on your other knee. He chuckled before heading towards his ship, not bothering to rush. Crosshair was squirming in the binds, frantic. You rushed towards him, tripping over your now unusable leg. You snagged your helmet along the way before crumbling down next to the clone. You tried to get the wires around him lose but when your fingers fumbled onto the bomb, you froze. Carefully, you removed it and a very stupid idea popped into your head. Crosshair caught your eyes. He knew exactly what you were thinking and nodded in approval.

The ship was about to fly out so you didn’t have much time. You tried to put the helmet on Crosshair but his eyes pleaded with you. He almost won the silent argument before you pulled out the trump card; the rock. You pushed it into his face before shoving it into one of his hands. The clone stopped fighting you and accepted the helmet.

Weaver’s ship was a few meters off the ground, building up with potential energy. With the bomb in your dominate hand, you threw it towards the ship before lining up the shot. You waited for the moment the bomb was closest to the ship in it’s curve back to the planet and would do the most damage.

I’ll get what’s mine but I’ll make sure you get what’s yours.

You pulled the trigger and your ears were filled with a high pitched whine and the heat from the explosion engulfed your body. The last thing you saw before everything went black was the clone who changed your life.

Part 16

Notes:

I feel X Gon' Give It To Ya is appropriate for the fight scene.

I've mentioned Shev'la using Kali (escrima) sticks before, but they are one of my favorite weapons in CoD. I'm treating them almost baton like and made of Beskar, so they can reflect blaster shots but not as accurately as lightsabers.

Gif made by me, video of my game play :)

Mando'a

Gar hut’uun - You coward

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