#I just have sorting through ao3 it’s a hellhole unfortunately

[sofargoneao3]

can someone give me some jily fic recs please I’m in a slump and need something

[honeydewplaydough]

Childish Laughter & Bleeding Scars

Cross posted on AO3 !  Can you guys tell me that Nie Mingjue is my favorite character lol?

What an unfortunate sight he must be, thought Nie Mingjue as he sputtered out blood through fleeting breaths. Coughs shook his whole frame. Suspended by his wrist, he hung mere inches off the ground. If he had been just a couple of inches taller, maybe he would be able to at least rest some of his body weight on the tips of his toes. But for now, he hung bonelessly, arms pulled tight. The pain was a dull ache that spread through the entirety of his shoulders and down to the middle of his back.

Nie Mingjue figured he would have rather suffered the grueling sharp pains of a hundred stab wounds than what seemed like the slow tearing of muscles.

The man leaned his head against the cold of the wall, allowing for at least the merciful kiss of relief on the back of his head. For if the lavish Sun Palace were warmth, the warmth of alcohol, the warmth of bodies pressing together, and the warmth of blood splattering across the floors, then the dungeons were the depths of a winter raging sea.

Deadly. Cold. Merciless.

Another cough wrecked his Nie Mingjue’s body. He had, at one point, attempted to count the days however the only light sources were the unreliable brightness of the lanterns that somehow flickered out on their own free will and left him in periods of darkness that never seemed to end. To pour salt in the wound, the servants also did not feed him in a coherent and a time measurable manner.

To be fair, however, feeding him was a strong word. They brought him scraps of supposed food when they damned well pleased.

And besides, eating the food prepared by any Wen Dog’s hand was not a luxury Nie Mingjue was willing to extend to them.

Furthermore, with his Qi haphazardly sealed, he would not be able to fight off the poison they would inevitably force-feed him once it had entered his body. He would be forced to witness what it would do to his body in full force. Would it make him vomit his intense up? Would it make him lose his teeth and have his gums be raw and exposed? Cause unscratchable itches that would leave him howling like some sort of maddened animal?

He would not let them have a chance to bear witness to it.

The lurch of his body forward strained his muscles and for a moment made him forget about his thoughts. He felt the clot of blood forcing its way up to his throat and down to the ground to where all the blood had trickled down from his chin and accumulated there at his exposed feet.

Worse than that was the blood that laid at his feet did not come from his own turbulent inwards.

It was also so that his body was covered from head to toe in wounds. Slices of varying degrees tore from shoulders down. A particularly nasty one had stretched from belly button to naval. Hundreds of them littered over his body, some of them being calculated slices meant to remove the top layer of skin, skinning him as if he were some sort of vegetable. Others meant to cut down deep and not a single thought was spared to the carnage that the knife took with it when it was pulled from his skin.

He couldn’t say which he had preferred.

All Nie Mingjue could do was simply hang there in silence as various torturers used his body as their canvas. Each one of them probably hoped to be praised when their Sect Leader came back from the battle he had so leisurely attended.

Just thinking about the man-made and anger run through his veins. The man that had slain his father in such a meticulous way that no blame could ever be put on to him. The man that bought our mercenaries to come and hack away at his borders, causing him both inconvenience and weeks of little sleep.

The man that haunted his dreams starting from his youth to adulthood.

Let it be known, however, that if Nie Mingjue were to see that bastard face to face, he’d kill him. He wasn’t twelve anymore. He’d face him like the man that he was and would take his head back to QingHe. For himself. To prove to himself that his youth was not a waste. That Wen Ruohan could not harm him anymore.

He would show the head off to his people. To not only to inspire them, that it was possible to shoot down the sun and conquer evil, but that as long as he stood here alive on this earth, he would always protect them.

An offering for Lan Xichen. To show him that there was nothing to be afraid of. That Nie Mingjue would move mountains, conquer the sun, and show him that he was worthy.

Revenge for Nie Huaisang. Former Clan Leader Nie had been both their fathers. He had smiled down at them all the same, had picked up Nie Huaisang, and had held Nie Mingjue by the hand. He told them stories of ole underneath the starry nights.

Nie Huaisang had loved their dad too.

To bring him the head of the one who killed him, would show that Nie Mingjue would protect him and would make do on the promise he made when he was still just a youth.

He just hoped that his little useless brother wouldn’t try and turn into something it was not.

‘Oh, da-ge! Why must I work so tirelessly out on the field every day if one, the war is over, and two, you’ve already shot the son out of the sky! If anything, now is the perfect opportunity to laze around! Discover new hobbies, pick up an ancient craft! Who knows, maybe by the end of summer, I’ll become a talented flute player. One that will shake the entire cultivation world and seize them up by their necks!’

Nie Mingjue let out a snort, as he pictured his brother saying it. It sounded close enough to him and he couldn’t help but let out a small smile at the thought. The thought of his useless, no good, weak little brother being safe at night.

It was then, he heard a shuffling of feet from behind the entrance to his personal hellhole. He rolled his eyes, cursing the cowardice of the poor bastard. Was he not restrained? Were they transporting him somewhere? No, the last time they had tried that, he had needed at least seven Wen Dogs to drag him down the halls.

He tried to contain his snort at that memory.

It had caused Meng Yao to lose face, even if it was just other Wen Dogs of slightly lower rank, and that had made the beating he received earlier a bit more worth it.

But at the topic of hand, he was starting to get annoyed. What kind of grown man or woman shook like that? Did they not have the upper hand? Were they some poor servant here to dress his wounds?

Nie Mingjue was annoyed.

He had been slightly fevered and the ache in his shoulders and his back were only worsening. Whoever it was, Nie Mingjue couldn’t care less. Be it Wen Ruohan himself or a scrambling slave of a slave. They should at least have some face!

“I know you are there, you Wen Dog! Stop shuffling like a coward and face me,” Nie Mingjue snapped out.

The shuffling and rustling of robes paused for a moment. And a few steps were heard. For some reason, the more that Nie Mingjue paid attention to the noise, instead of it barely passing through his ears and onto his brain, he realized that the person had tiny feet. The pitter-patters of steps caused great confusion.

Had they sent down a small child to torture him? Had they sent a little servant boy to dress the wounds and toss down his scraps? What was he doing here?

“Doggie?” Came the small voice.

Nie Mingjue furrowed his eyebrows. The child did not sound over the age of three years old. What game were those bastards playing? What kind of monster sends down a child? Had it not been Nie Mingjue and the boy had come closer to another war criminal, he was still little enough that he could simply be kicked out of the way.

Suddenly, the boy was standing in front of him behind the bars. One hand was gripping the bars as he plastered himself against them.

“I… The Doggie?” He asked excitedly pointing to himself. He looked to be searching for something on Nie Mingjue’s face, “Woof Woof!”

[snowfall-fanfictions]

Beware the Frozen Heart Ch. 3- The Attempt

Ao3 Link

FFN Link

Things start to get interesting now. Enjoy!

Blood Tw and death tw

The training grounds of the Arendellian Royal Guard were lively with the sound of metal clanging and war cries of young men and women dressed in the forest green uniform of Arendelle. Few of the trainees noticed that the queen and crown princess had made their way into the courtyard, hands clasped together. Those that did almost immediately stopped and saluted the monarchs as they passed by. Many of them started sharing whispers and others were unfortunate to be on the receiving end of their partner’s weapons who didn’t see the two pass through.

Elsa was always nervous when she came through the training grounds. She remembered years ago when she accompanied her father to the grounds and got so scared that she ended up freezing the floor. At least two people slipped and were hospitalized that day, and Elsa wasn’t allowed in the grounds since. The memories of that day caused Elsa to quicken her pace as she went to Captain Torvond’s quarters.

Anna, on the other hand, was in awe of what she saw. The energy, the excitement, the swords! As a child, Anna looked up to warriors, like Joan of Arc and Boudica. Their legends gave her the strength to endure the years of isolation she faced. Despite this, she was never allowed to visit the grounds, because her carelessness caused concern for the captain of the guard at the time. She wished she could study the tactics of the soldiers a little longer, but was abruptly jerked by Elsa as she started to lightly jog past all the lingering eyes and into the captain’s quarters across the field.

XXXXXX

Eryn guided Magni through the town center, scanning the crowds for any familiar face. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as he passed a group of guards, in case they recognized him. As he looked over the throngs of people going about their day, his contempt for these high-class snobs grew. These fucks were living in the lap of luxury, compared to what he has been through. He lost everything in the name of Arendelle, and for what? A life filled with misery and death. Eryn’s stomach knotted itself at the hatred and contempt he felt for this damnable kingdom. The sooner the queen dies, the soon I get out of this hellhole, he thought. He scanned the crowds again. Nothing unusual, save for a man speaking in a goofy voice to his reindeer. Eryn watched in horror as the same man drew a carrot out of his pants, let the reindeer take a bite, and then proceeded to eat the rest. He could still make out reindeer spit on the half eaten carrot. Eryn almost vomited on the spot.

“We are never doing that!,” Eryn said to Magni. The horse blew hot air out of his nostrils. Scanning the crowds again as he hitched Magni to a post, blocking the horrific sight he beheld from his mind, he noticed a man sitting on a bench up against a series of buildings, reading a newspaper. The man looked to be about the same age as Eryn, only much bulkier and with red hair. The assassin sat beside the man, pretending not to care, and studied the newspaper.

“You realize that paper is over two weeks old, do you?” Eryn inquired. The man looked to his left and studied Eryn. He minutely moved closer to Eryn and began speaking in hushed tones.

“You’re here much earlier than expected.”

“Bah,” Eryn scoffed, “You know how I am, always eager to get a job done.”

The man scoffed in return at Eryn’s snarky reply.

“So…” Eryn leaned in towards the man. “Is everything in place?”

XXXXXX

Captain Torvond read over the letter carefully as Elsa and Anna stood before him. His quarters weren’t exactly regal material, but it sufficed for important meetings like this one. There was only room for his bed, his desk, and a trunk where his uniforms and personal items were stored. The three of them took up a great deal of available space, especially Torvond. He was a large man, with broad shoulders and a bulky torso. He easily towered over the queen and princess. As he read the letter, he twirled his auburn mustache in his free hand

“Do you understand what needs to be done, Lineaus?” Elsa asked.

The captain rolled the letter back up and tied it with a twine string. “Yes, your majesty. I’ll keep you updated with whatever I find.” He gave Elsa a warm smile. “You have my word.”

Elsa returned the smile to him. “Thank you, Lineaus.” With that, Elsa and Anna departed the captain’s quarters.

The walk back to the castle was pleasant. Elsa loved to walk through the town, seeing all of the smiling faces as she passed by. The two sisters were quiet until Anna began nudging Elsa’s side.

“So… Lineaus is kinda cute, isn’t he?” Anna teased.

“Anna!” the queen scolded, “You’re getting married! How could you say that?”

“I may be getting married, but you’re still available.”

Elsa’s face burned a bright red. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, C’mon, Elsa! You know the council has been getting on your case about finding an heir to-”

“To continue the succession, I know, I know! It’s just that- well… I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”

“Well, whenever you’re ready, you won’t have to look too far. Every man in Europe seems to be drawn to you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

The two sisters started laughing as they made their way back to the castle. As they crossed the town center, few people gave them much attention. They grew so accustomed to seeing the royals out and about that they didn’t stick out as much. Elsa sort of liked not being the center of attention. She appreciated the ability to blend into the crowds. She liked studying the crowds to see the different kinds of people in Arendelle. It was methodical and helped ease her mind of all the stress of ruling.

The serenity of her walk back to the castle was interrupted by a man shouting, “DIE WITCH!” and gunshots.

XXXXXX

“What the hell do you mean you aren’t done preparing?” Eryn sneered in hushed tones. “You had a whole week to sort this out!”

“Eryn,” the man explained quietly, “It’s not like we’re setting up to kill the local beggar or something. This is a monarch we’re talking about.”

“How much longer do you need?!”

“Just one more day, then everything will be in place, guaranteed.”

Eryn angrily went back to studying the crowds, silently cursing the incompetence of his contact. All of his planning, all of his preparation, all gone to waste! He muttered a few curse words as he sat hunched over, burying his face in his hands. It was then he saw someone that caught his attention. It was a young woman, somewhere around his own age. She wore a dazzling blue dress and sported a platinum blonde braid that was draped over her shoulder. Her skin was as serene and beautiful as porcelin. She looked like an angel in human form. Eryn was curious as to who this mystery woman was and why no one seemed to be paying attention to her as she walked by. Any man in Karnisvarne would have at least complimented her in some shape or form. He sat there for a minute, puzzled at the whole situation.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw rapid movement from a crowd around the town center. He jerked his head to see what the commotion was about. From there, he could point out a slightly older man, whose face was wrinkled and worn from the passing of time. What hadn’t been worn was the revolver he had gripped in his hand and the raging fury burning in his eyes. Eryn soon noticed that the old man’s gaze was on the woman he was puzzled by earlier.

“Dear God,” Eryn muttered as he bolted from the bench.

“Eryn wait-!”  Eryn’s contact exclaimed, but it was too late. Eryn had disappeared into a throng of people, out of earshot.

Eryn shoved his way through the sea of people, desperately trying to get to the old man. He finally saw the old man, who had raised the gun and was about to fire. Without hesitation, Eryn tackled the old man to the ground as he pulled the trigger. The crowd screamed and fled in a panicked state. Enraged, Eryn tried to wrestle the gun from the old man’s hand. He picked up the old fool and slammed him onto the cobblestone, causing the cracks to run red. The old man then sucker punched Eryn in the jaw, which forced him off of the would be assassin. He spat out blood as he unsheathed his dagger and pointed it at the man. The old man in turn aimed his gun at Eryn, anger flooding his eyes. Eryn dashed at the assassin with blinding fury. In an instant, his blade slashed at the man’s gut. As he doubled over, Eryn buried his dagger into the assassin’s back. The attempted killer slumped over, motionless. Eryn breathed a sigh of relief as he fell to the cobblestone. He scanned the area to find the mystery woman, hoping she wasn’t hurt, but she was nowhere to be found. Eryn wondered what the woman had done to draw the ire of this would be assassin. Old fool was much too sloppy Eryn thought, Broke the first rule of killing: don’t announce you’re going to kill someone. Before he knew it, a group of soldiers swarmed him, pointing their weapons directly at him.

“Get up, ya swine!” One of the guards shouted.

“Come the fuck on…” Eryn muttered to himself as he was hoisted onto his feet and dragged to the castle.

[mojavejourneys]

Beware the Ides of March...

This fic has been in the works for a few days but what better time to post than now?

You can also read it on AO3!

Basically it’s a culmination of Maxie wanting to rid the Mojave of the Legion and various other ideas that have been rattling around my head XD

Warnings: Major character death, guns, mentions of violence

“So... how do I look?” Maxie looked over at Arcade as he adjusted the armour plates of the Legion uniform to better fit over him. The doctor was carefully wrapping strips of leather around the other's scaled arm. He met Maxie's gaze with a sigh.

“Like a Legionary. I just hope this works.” A brief pause as Arcade fastened another armour plate and then carefully draped some red material over the wings, trying to make them look more like banners. “I still don't believe that Caesar wants to see you, even after the fact you'd basically killed half the Legion. He knows how you feel about his group. Why would he want to talk to you?” A worried look crossed Arcade's face. “Please, just... be careful.”

“You got it... fuck, you ain't my dad, Arcade. I'm surprised you even wanna help me do this. You've always told me that you wanna see that fucker with the dog head drop dead.”

“Vulpes Inculta? Yeah. Honestly all of the Legion can go away. I hate what they stand for.” Arcade handed Maxie his .44 Magnum, which had been wrapped up in several layers of cloth and put into a pouch strapped to his leg. “Don't do anything rash. I know you're going into the Fort, and there's going to be a lot of Caesar's men, but... try to be diplomatic. Reasoning with them might be the last thing you want to do but maybe this might be a chance for us to get a bead on a weakness.”

“And destroy 'em from the inside. I got just the means. Hey, while I'm gone, you reckon you can get Cass and Veronica to meet me back here? Tell 'em to bring weapons, meds, chems... 'cause I got a little idea. We'll meet just north of Cottonwood Cove. Got it?” Maxie flashed Arcade a smile before he turned around. “I'll be back before you know it.”

As Arcade made his way back, he nodded. Maxie headed onto the barge and was ready to be taken to the Fort.

~ ~ ~

The Fort. Caesar's main camp. And a place that made Maxie feel sick to his stomach. He passed by several cages that held slaves dressed in ragged clothes. One woman was trying to reach out to him and he paused just briefly to take her hand.

“Listen, you gotta stay strong,” he whispered to her, making sure that no Legionaries could hear, “'cause I may be able to get you outta here. Don't say anything yet. I gotta talk with Caesar but as long as I keep my disguise up... I might be able to get you outta here.” The woman nodded and let him go. Standing up, Maxie then headed further into the Fort, past several more tents until he saw what looked like the largest tent.

But outside, he caught sight of a familiar checkered suited man lashed to a post in a kneeling position. The hybrid's eyes widened. “Benny?!”

The man looked up. “I guess it's my time now, huh?” He did a double-take. “Hold on, are you the guy I put a bullet in the head of?”

“The very same.” Maxie smirked briefly. “But keep your voice down, okay? I'm guessing Caesar got to you first?”

“He knows about the Platinum Chip. But look... if I have to die to keep the Chip from getting into Caesar's hands, then so be it. I already told you what you needed to do to help create an independent New Vegas. Yes Man will help you. But... I think the only fitting way for me to die would be for you to return my bullet.”

“Didn't forget that part, huh?” Maxie knelt beside Benny for a moment, resting his more human hand on the man's shoulder. “I made a mistake about you initially. Maybe you're a little bit of a chickenshit but you don't deserve to die at the hands of the Legion. Or mine for that matter. I ain't gonna kill you. 'Cause I want you back in the Strip. Once all this shit in New Vegas is sorted out, I ain't staying. This place ain't been kind to me at all. That was probably why you tried to put me outta my misery.”

Benny shook his head. “Maybe. Maybe at first. But you're actually more human than most of these one hundred percent human types in this hellhole. The Ben-man made a mistake at first but he knows a good guy when he sees one.”

“Thanks, Benny. But... you ain't dying today. Depending on whatever the fuck Caesar wants to talk to me about, I may be able to get you outta here.” Maxie stood up then. “Just hang in there.” He carefully made his way to Caesar's tent, and after showing the Mark that he'd been given, he was allowed entry.

But when he entered, he didn't see Caesar anywhere. Another man came up to him. “You were here for Caesar?”

“He called for me, yeah. Dunno why.” Maxie removed his helmet and shook his head. “Guess something came up? 'Cause he was pretty adamant about it.”

“Unfortunately shortly after he sent the message to you, he fell into a coma and our doctors haven't been able to revive him. All we know is that it's a brain tumour that will kill him if it's not removed. As his most-trusted right-hand man, I was instructed to give you this information.”

“Lucius, right?” Maxie folded his arms then, eyeing the man with some suspicion. “So what the fuck would Caesar want with someone who really don't like him at all?”

Lucius nodded. “It seems a little strange, but Caesar believes you have the right connections to save his life. He believes you know a doctor who works with the Followers of the Apocalypse?”

He was talking about Arcade. Maxie forced himself to remain deadpan. “I may do. So what, you want me to bring him here and get Caesar fixed up? I ain't sure he's gonna agree to that. He don't like you guys as much either so I don't think he'll help you willingly.” He sighed then. “I'll at least try. But if he don't wanna come, then I'll do it myself.”

“You?” Lucius laughed then. “With those?” He pointed to the claws on Maxie's right hand.

“With proper surgical tools, dumbass. Now do you want your leader saved or not?” Lucius gave a nod. “Okay. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“The guy in the checkered suit. You let him go with me and I'll bring back some form of medical help. If you don't, then I'll string you up by your balls and Caesar can fucking go to hell for all I care.”

Lucius growled but reluctantly agreed. “How long will you be?”

“Give it two days at most. If the doctor won't agree to it, then he'll have to teach me what he knows and I'm a fast learner.” Maxie put his helmet back on. “Just keep Caesar stable until either the doctor or myself looks at him properly. Now I gotta go. Time is of the essence here.” He went to leave the tent and freed Benny, much to Lucius' chagrin.

As he got back on the barge with the checkered suited man, he took off his helmet again. “Okay. I need you back at the New Vegas Strip. Tell Yes Man that he won't hafta worry about the Legion.” He met Benny's gaze. “I saved your ass, so now you fucking owe me.”

“Right.” Benny nodded as he spoke, still rather shocked at finding himself on his way back. “Have you figured out what to do with House yet?”

“Well he ain't going anywhere just yet. He's waiting on me to make the next move for his idea, but I don't like it one bit. You just worry about keeping the Platinum Chip away from him for now. We got time. We're gonna deal with him later. Right now it's just a case of taking out the biggest threat to the Mojave.” Benny asked Maxie what Mr House was waiting for. “Oh, he's waiting for me to get the Chip for him. Like fuck am I gonna do that. Just keep the Chip safe. You were willing to kill to keep it outta his hands the first time, so... just do that again.”

The suited man gave a nod and the two sat in relative silence until they got back to Cottonwood Cove. Once they disembarked, Benny said his goodbyes and made his way to the Strip.

~ ~ ~

“So, no trouble?” Arcade asked as he helped Maxie undress. Hands briefly traced over the exposed skiin before he continued to undo various buckles and straps. “What did Caesar want?”

“It weren't Caesar. It was his right hand man, Lucius.” Maxie closed his eyes when Arcade asked what he wanted. “Apparently Caesar's got some sorta brain tumour and he's in a coma. And somehow Lucius thought I was the guy with the connections. And I just said I knew a doctor, I didn't say you specifically.”

“Even if you had, I wouldn't help that man.” Arcade shook his head, setting aside the clothing he'd removed and handing Maxie a pair of leather pants. “I don't agree to what he does, and I'm not the sort to break the Hippocratic Oath. So I'm not going in there.”

The hybrid pulled his pants on and turned to the doctor. “I wouldn't want you to go anyway. They'd probably enslave you and force you to do it. I ain't gonna sell you out to those fuckers. But I do have an idea.” He grinned and went over to his bag, pulling out a double barrelled shotgun. “Shotgun surgery.”

Arcade's eyes widened. “You're going to... I mean, isn't that a bit unsporting?”

“Aw c'mon, they'd fight dirty too. Anyway, we got two days to come up with a plan. That's what I told Lucius.”

Just then, a tall blonde-haired woman walked into the room, nodding to Arcade before looking over at Maxie. “About time I caught up with you again. Besides, I heard a little of your plans.”

“Heh. Just in time, Evanna. I might need your expertise on this one. Okay, so... I ain't just dealing with Caesar here. We're also gonna free the slaves. And once the slaves are out, the Fort goes up in fucking flames. Think you can do that?”

Evanna was already looking through the various weapons that had been brought over, thinking over what she could do. She faced Maxie with a light grin. “Oh, I can do that, alright. Okay, what I'll do is rig up two sets of explosives. One set will be just small enough to blow off the locks to the slaves' cages. Then when we're all a safe enough distance away... the second set will be the big fucking BOOM that you want!”

“Alright. So, if you can get that done in two days, that'll be amazing. I'll need backup as well 'cause we should take extra weapons. Not just for us, but so that we can arm the slaves as they escape. Can you relay that to the others? We're gonna be ready for this. It's all gonna go to plan.”

“Right.” Evanna took what explosives and other items she needed and then left. Maxie began his own preparations.

The next two days were going to be crucial.

~ ~ ~

Maxie, along with Arcade, Evanna, Veronica and Cass, had gathered at Cottonwood Cove. The doctor was the only one not wearing a Legion disguise.

“Okay, so let's go over the plan one more time.” Maxie addressed the group. “Arcade, you've got supplies ready for first aid on any injured people that make it back, right?” Arcade nodded and then his attention to Veronica. “You've got the medical bag and some bladed weapons, right?”

“Yeah.” Veronica gave a firm nod. “I'll go with you up to Caesar's tent, give you the medical supplies and then go back to arm the slaves, along with Cass, right?”

Cass looked up from checking her gun when she heard her name. “Right. I got the guns, so you give the knives, I'll give the guns and then we get outta trouble, right?”

Then Maxie's attention turned to Evanna. “Your part's the most important. So what do we do?”

“Right. Guys, listen up.” Evanna cleared her throat. “I'm gonna give each of you some of these small devices. The small ones go on the locks of any slave cages.” She held up the device as she spoke, handing a few to Cass and Veronica. Then she held up a larger device. “These ones will go in strategic locations around the Fort. Now I've got a load of old duffel bags here and that's because the devices are gonna go in them, with a few extra grenades.” While she spoke she was packing the duffel bags.

“Who's setting those off though?” Cass asked. “Mean, surely you've got that sorted, right?”

“Yup.” Evanna nodded firmly. “On Maxie's signal, which is... a shotgun blast, I'll set off the explosives on the locks. You and Veronica get the slaves out, make sure they're armed, and get them to the boats. Show no mercy to any Legionaries there. And once everyone we want to save is clear, I'll set off the big bombs.”

“Got it. So we'll set the little devices first, then sneak around and put down the bigger ones?”

“Right.”

“So what's with the shotgun blast as the signal...?”

Maxie looked between Arcade and the three women, holding up a double-barelled shotgun. “This... is where it's gonna get fun. I'm gonna go in the tent as if I'm gonna help Caesar. But I'm gonna blow his fucking brains out, and this gun is LOUD. So that's your call. Evanna, you've gotta be quick on the devices when the gun goes off.” Evanna nodded. “We ready?”

“I'll be waiting for you back here.” Arcade nodded. “Be careful, all of you. And I hope this works!”

~ ~ ~

Maxie, along with Veronica, Cass and Evanna, had made it back to the Fort. Now it was time to put the plan into action. Cass and Evanna had gone to place the smaller explosives on the locks of the cages, leaving a few weapons in easy reach of the slaves, but instructing them to wait until the locks were blown off so they could surprise and overwhelm the Legionaries.

Meanwhile, Veronica had gone up with Maxie to Caesar's tent. She handed him the bag of medical supplies before going to help Evanna and Cass. The hybrid showed the Mark to the tent guard and he was let inside.

“Lucius?” Maxie set down the bag and took his helmet off. “You here?”

Lucius looked up from the papers he was working on, nodding. “Well? What do you have for me?”

Maxie sighed. “Okay. The doctor I knew... he ain't gonna do anything for you. At all. Said he hate what you guys stood for.” As did he, but he kept that thought to himself. “But he did train me and I got a technique down that'll help me get that brain tumour out. I got this.”

“Very well. But if you try anything funny, we as the Legion will not hesitate to kill you.” Lucius led Maxie into the medical tent where Caesar was laying, making sure that the hybrid had the medical supplies. Maxie looked over the man briefly. He did look thin, weak and pale... but if he ever recovered then the Legion would continue their disgusting work.

“Okay, you can go.” Maxie gave Lucius a sharp look. “I can't work when there are other people in the room. Go back to your papers or whatever the fuck it was that you were doing. If you want me to save your leader, I gotta have nobody else here, no fucking distractions. Don't wanna make a wrong move.”

“Fine. But remember what I said.” Lucius said as he left. When the man was far enough away, Maxie carefully pulled out a few surgical tools and placed them on a nearby table, uncovering the shotgun he'd concealed in the bag. Gingerly removing it, he loaded two shells and tried to prime the weapon as quietly as he could.

Then he walked up to the comatose Caesar, shotgun in hand.

“Bitch.”

BANG.

~ ~ ~

The loud noise of the shotgun had all but decimated the near-deathly silence that had fallen over the camp. Evanna quickly reached for one of the detonators and pressed the button. Another series of small explosions erupted throughout the camp as the locks were blown off the cages. Legionaries were running to grab their weapons.

“GO!” Veronica called out. She and Cass began to usher the slaves from their cages, making sure that they grabbed a weapon each on their way out. “Just run for the boats and only fight if you have to!” As the slaves ran, the Legionaries were giving chase. Veronica lunged at the nearest Legionary and drove her power fist right into his gut, forcing him to double over and giving a group of women time to run.

“Hey, you keep going!” Evanna tossed a few weapons over to a couple more fleeing slaves. “Right! Veronica! Can you go find Maxie? Cass and I will be okay back here!”

Veronica nodded and headed for Caesar's tent, punching her way through angered Legionaries as she went.

The main tent at the Fort was now surrounded. Legionaries were rushing inside even as the tents became peppered with bullet holes.

Inside, Maxie had discarded the shotgun as it had jammed up, instead wielding two 10mm submachine guns. The Legionaries that tried to get to him were mown down as fast as they could enter, and then he kicked open the main tent flap, looking around quickly.

“Alright, you Legion fucks! Your shitty ass regime is fucking FINISHED!” Three more Legionaries were gunned down before the magazines were emptied. But before he could reload, he heard a shout.

“BEHIND YOU!” Veronica called out, having seen someone sneak up on Maxie from behind, “WATCH OUT!” But she was too late as Maxie was felled by a strong blow to the back of the head. She ran forward, only to be faced by Lucius.

“I won't allow him to live after this. He killed our glorious leader!” Lucius was aiming his gun at Veronica. “And if you don't back away, then you will die too!”

Veronica stood tall then. “You can't take away what pride I have. I serve with the Brotherhood of Steel. They would see you destroyed. Given what you stand for? They'd show no mercy to you.”

Lucius laughed and moved to aim the gun at Maxie's head. “I'll blow his brains out just like he blew Caesar's brains out.”

“He's already been shot in the head before and that didn't kill him. What makes you think you can do it?” Veronica looked Lucius dead in the eye. “He's worth at least fifty of you!” She ran forward and rammed her power fist in Lucius' gut. The man doubled over in pain and dropped his gun. Removing her power fist, Veronica moved to help Maxie up.

“Ugh... fuck...” Maxie looked up. “Hu-- V-Veronica?”

“It's me. Come on, we have to get out of here. Cass and Evanna have already got the slaves out. Now we need to go so that this place can be blown skyward!” Veronica gently lifted a hand so she could check his head, grimacing when she felt something wet on her skin. “Shit, you're bleeding!”

Maxie grunted. “Just grab a bandage and some gauze from my kit and wrap it up real quick. We ain't got time...” He felt a little light-headed. “I'll go to Arcade when we get back.”

“R-Right...” Veronica found where Maxie kept the kit, grabbing the items and quickly but firmly pressing the gauze to the bleeding spot, wrapping the bandage around it. She was about to get her power fist ready when she saw Evanna running up to them.

“Come on! There's only one boat left and we need to go before-- oh shit, is he okay?!”

“I'm fine!” Maxie rolled his eyes in agitation. “Just grab the submachine guns from over there and keep these Legion fucks off us! I don't think I feel right enough to stand. Veronica, you gotta help me get to the boat!”

Veronica wrapped an arm around Maxie's waist after she readied her power fist again. “Okay. I'll be ready in case one gets too close.” She began to lead her companion back towards the entrance of the Fort as quickly as she could. “What about Cass, Evanna?”

“She's watching that last boat! GO!” Evanna was shooting at the Legionaries while Veronica led Maxie to the boat, quickly getting him in once they got there. When Evanna had boarded, she quickly grabbed the oars and started to paddle as fast as she could.

“Give me the oars!” Veronica motioned to Evanna. “Isn't there one thing you still need to do?”

“Oh, right!” Evanna handed over the oars and took out the detonator. “It's time for fireworks!”

She pressed the button. And as the boat sailed back to Cottonwood Cove, a series of explosions rang out from behind, sending plumes of fire and smoke into the sky.

~ ~ ~

The group were exhausted as they disembarked from the boat. Veronica helped Maxie out while Cass and Evanna gathered their things. Arcade ran up to greet them.

“I've got the rest of the Followers helping with the freed slaves, so they'll be alright soon enough.” He looked over at Maxie. “I thought I told you to be careful?”

Maxie shook his head. “What's one more hit to the head, eh?”

Arcade gently wrapped an arm around Maxie's shoulders. “Now don't go tempting fate. I've grown rather fond of you.”

Veronica watched the two go, smiling sadly. She was gathering up her things and was about to head back to the room that Maxie had in Freeside when Evanna stopped her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm okay.” Veronica was a little sharper than normal. Then she heaved out a sigh. “Sorry. It's just... I've had a lot on my mind. I was reminded of someone.” Her tone made it clear she was unwilling to go into detail.

“Oh.” Evanna had gotten the hint. “I'll see you later?” She was starting to make her way back towards Freeside.

~ ~ ~

A couple of days later, Maxie had recovered from his injury from his plan to storm the Fort. He was just getting dressed when he heard a knock at his door. “Come on in.”

Veronica opened the door, looking somewhat nervous. “Hey Maxie. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Trust me, this ain't that bad.” He'd just strapped on his Pip-Boy when he loooked over and noticed how nervous Veronica looked. “You okay?”

“I... I wanted to ask you something. Do you think you can look for someone for me?” Veronica's gaze drifted away. “I've just been... thinking about it. Seeing you and Arcade so close reminded me...” Maxie prompted her to continue. “I was thinking of a woman I knew during my time actively serving in the Brotherhood. We were very close. Lovers. But Father Elijah, who was in charge of the chapter here in the Mojave... he hated it.”

“What a miserable old shit. Guess he had nothing better to do than gatecrash.”

“Seemed that way. He wanted everyone in the Brotherhood to be focused on procreating so he split us up. I'd give anything to find where she is now.” Veronica managed to meet Maxie's gaze again. “I know you have your own shit to worry about but I feel that you'd be the right one to ask. Would you... would you help me find her?”

Maxie rested his more human hand on Veronica's shoulder. “Of course. You deserve to be happy. And given how much you've helped me lately? It's only fair that I return the favour. C'mon then, let's start looking, eh?”

“Will Arcade let you go long enough, you think?”

“I think so.” Maxie chuckled, grabbing his bag and making sure he had his trusty .44 Magnum with him. “Besides, he knows I don't do well sitting still for too long. You got any leads?”

“There is an old Brotherhood bunker that I remember Father Elijah using as a base in the Mojave for some time. We can start there.”

Maxie gestured to the door. “Ladies first. And maybe on the way, we can find you a nice dress to wear? I'll bet your lover would adore seeing you in a lovely dress.”

Veronica's face lit up. “That would be wonderful. Let's go!”

[artificialqueens]

we break but we're not broken (craquaria) - dis_connected

AN: Aquaria cares far too much for her friends.

Inspired by this prompt from happylilprompts on tumblr: Person A has had a crush on Person B, literal sunshine that gets top grades, for years. Recently B smiles and studies less, and is even skipping class. A’s the only one who pays close enough attention to see something is seriously wrong au

Read on ao3

Aquaria has given up with school. Well, she gave up with school not long after she started school. But, still, officially now, all she’s doing is focusing on trying to get into the Fashion Institute of Technology, which has been her only dream since she tried on her first pair of her mom’s heels as a kid, and now she’s just trying to keep all her grades at a C so she can successfully scrape by high school and leave it all behind for good.  

Meanwhile, a friend of hers, Brianna, is a model pupil. Aquaria has sat behind her in both History and French since freshman year, watching the way she flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder, how her head tilts back when she’s laughing and her confidence when talking in class in comparison to Aquaria’s stumbling awkwardness. Not that it’s a big deal that she watches her. She’s just hard to miss, with her big personality and even bigger hair, and you know, she’s right there, what else is she supposed to look at?

Brianna is popular amongst the students, like Aquaria, but, drastically opposite to Aquaria, she’s also loved by all of her teachers, thanks to her general friendliness and attitude to study hard in all her subjects. Brianna has truly excelled in high school. As their four years come to a close, she’s on track to go to a great college and have a great future, whereas Aquaria can hardly wait to get out of this hellhole and finally make a name for herself in fashion.

But, leaving behind high school means leaving her friends, and, unfortunately, that includes leaving behind Brianna. And the back of her head. Which is nice. The big, curly hair that the blonde does when she has a bit more time is Aquaria’s favourite, by far. She remembers vividly the day that she did it for the first time.

It’s a Monday. Aquaria spent the weekend in isolation from the outside world, trying to put together some looks for her portfolio, which she has changed and altered a million times, at least. Just last night, she redrew and redesigned a whole outfit she was obsessed with the week before, meaning she was up until the early hours of the morning furiously scribbling, sketching and sewing until her fingers were red raw.

Now, she’s sitting in her assigned seat at the back of Madame Dupont’s class as it starts, her pen tapping on her desk and her eyelids starting to droop already. Concentrating on the boring lectures on the imperfect subjunctive is hard enough as it is, without the added bonus of just two hours sleep. Aquaria is so tired that she hasn’t noticed that Brianna isn’t already sitting in front of her until she walks in, five minutes late, shooting an apologetic smile to the teacher and the usual grin to Aquaria, and hurriedly making her way to seat, the second row from the back.

“Bonne matin, mademoiselle, et qu’est-ce que la raison que vous êtes si tard?” Madame Dupont demands before she has the chance to sit down, even though the lesson has barely begun.

“Je suis desolée, Madame,” Brianna mumbles, her flawless accent still clear as she sits down and starts to pull out her things.

Aquaria is shocked. Brianna has never been late to class before, especially not French. Normally, she has to drag Aquaria by the arm so they’re on time, or she’s already there by the time the other girl decides to finally trudge into the room at the last possible, looking eager for whatever boring grammar shit they’ll be looking at.

“Et pouvez-vous conjuguer le verbe faire au conditionnel pour la classe?” The teacher continues. Brianna does so, perfectly of course, but she seems tired to Aquaria, who stares at the back of her friend’s head with worry.

Obviously, she’s just looking out for her friend, as she would any of them. Aquaria knows that Monét threw a party that she had to decline thanks to her portfolio work, and Brianna most likely went to it, or slept through her alarm, or would rather not be here, which is fair enough, but she still can’t help but worry.

Aquaria almost has to slap herself, as Madame Dupont starts to drone on about when to use the imperfect subjunctive (which is never in real life. Seriously who needs this?). She tells herself that she’s just looking for something to think about in this dull, dull class, and Brianna being late and tired has literally zero significance. People are allowed to be late sometimes, even Brianna. So, she just watches her as she twirls her hair round her finger, hair that she’s just shoved up in a ponytail without even brushing it. Not that she doesn’t look nice, still, annoyingly.

The class manages to end with no incident, and thankfully Aquaria is one of the few not called on for Madame Dupont’s never ending questions, because she wouldn’t have had a single clue what the hell to answer. She never really does.

She’s packing up to go at the end, grumbling to herself, when Brianna turns around, like she normally does to catch up with her friend after class, but today a frown is furrowing her features, as she looks right at the other girl, who does a slight double take at her unusually sad demeanour.

“Hey, Aqua,” Brianna says, slinging her bag over her shoulder and leaning forward on her friend’s desk.

“Hi, Bri, how was Monét’s?” Aquaria asks casually, trying to pretend that she isn’t worried as she shoves her notebook in her own bag carelessly, too tired to give a shit about the state of it.

“Oh, I dunno, I didn’t go,” Brianna seems uninterested. “Do we have history today?”

“Um, no, not until third tomorrow,” Aquaria replies, a little shocked at the unusual bluntness from her friend.

Okay, something’s definitely wrong. Brianna knows her timetable off by heart, she always has done. Aquaria tries not to think too much of it, but it stays on her mind the whole day. She’s ferociously munching her salad at lunch, sat with her friends on their regular table and staring into space as they talk about what happened at the party she didn’t go to.

Brianna is strangely absent; usually she’s the heart of the table, always cracking the jokes and puns and causing their table to be the nosiest in the cafeteria, but today, though the noise of the girls screaming about the party is extremely prominent, one voice is missing. Well, two, but Aquaria’s quietness is never that unusual. Nobody else has commented on the lack of Brianna, which annoys Aquaria slightly, but also makes her think she’s kind of making a big deal out of nothing.

She notices after a while a drop in chatter and a shift in atmosphere and looks up at everyone.

They’re all looking at their friend aggressively stabbing a poor lettuce leaf with her fork like she has a personal vendetta against it, concern and amusement etched across their faces.

“Um, Q, are you planning on eating you salad, or murdering it?” Blair, Aquaria’s best friend, asks her, laughing slightly.

“Sorry,” she mumbles in reply simply, rolling her eyes as the focus remains on her.

“What’s eating you, bitch? Your portfolio?” Vixen, the most blunt and unabashed of the group, asks. Everyone knows the stress that Aquaria has put herself under; her whole life has basically boiled down to this portfolio that is supposed to showcase who she is as a person, and, more importantly, a designer. To say there has been tears shed would be saying the least.

Aquaria puts down her fork and pushes her salad away, no longer hungry. “I’m bored. You’re all boring,” she jokes, rolling her eyes again.

“Well, sorry you’re too focused on your career to come to the best party of senior year,” Monet cheers.

“Actually, bitch,” argues Asia. “The best party of senior year was definitely my pool party right before school started!”

“Hah, that was before school started so it was technically it was a summerparty and not in senior year, so I win!” Monét laughs back loudly.

Aquaria stops listening. This argument is a regular occurrence between Asia and Monét, who constantly keep a friendly competition with each other. Their group has a specific dynamic, especially as they happen to be the most popular girls in the school, not that Aquaria really cares that much. She’s definitely not a people person.

Each girl in the group seems to have a specific, unspoken role and dynamic, and somehow they all create a powerful sort of clique. There’s no room for anyone else, not that Vixen would let them in anyway, unless they proved themselves to her, a task which few have ever succeeded at.

Which is why Aquaria notices so much when someone is missing, it doesn’t matter who. Just because it’s Brianna now that she’s worrying about, doesn’t mean that if, say, Kameron was acting differently next week she wouldn’t be just as worried about her. Aquaria cares about her friends, so what?

So what?

The week continues in pretty much the same way as Monday. Aquaria picks up on the subtle differences in Brianna, including her lateness to most of her classes, and her lack of makeup. To most people, it’s not a big deal at all, and she could blame it on the stress of nearing the end of the year. In fact, that’s what it would look like to any other person but Aquaria, especially the rest of their friendship group which have failed to notice the shift in Brianna’s behaviour.

God, she is going insane. She starts to drive herself crazy, overanalysing Brianna’s every move, from the back of her head in class, which is unusually slumped and bent over, to her weak attempts at jokes and uncharacteristic quietness at lunchtime, to the bluntness of their normally flowing conversation. It’s ridiculous, and distracting. Especially because none of their other friends have mentioned anything, at least not to Aquaria, and she really doesn’t want to bring anything up for fear of looking like a total idiot.

The worry is crippling to Aquaria, as though somebody is repeatedly whacking her over the head with a huge stick. Every time she tries to forget about it, bam and it’s back. She knows it’s ridiculous, and she blames her own stress. Her mind is clearly looking for something to do, bored to death of her sewing, sketching and designing the same pieces over and over again. It’s insanity. Complete and utter insanity.

But on Thursday, her insanity is justified, just slightly; after the class get a test back in History and Aquaria peers over to see she did better than Brianna, she can tell it’s with due reason. Brianna studies hard. Brianna puts school before everything. Brianna never gets below a B. In anything. And here she is with a C-, not even looking that fazed by it.

It’s like she’s given up. It’s eating away at Aquaria’s brain, so much so that she starts to design a new garment inspired by melting flesh and a revealed skull, and then hates it and screws it all up again. She wants to know why, without having to ask her. Confrontation is not her strong suit, especially when she could be completely wrong.

She’s hanging out at Blair’s house on Thursday night, an excuse to use her mom’s sewing machine, which is a million times better than her own, to test out some material she found that she wants to work with, but it keeps going wrong.

Aquaria is a good seamstress. She prides herself on it, in fact. It’s her thing. But after she fucks up the hem for the millionth time, she screams and rips apart her fabric, throwing it in the air in the most dramatic fashion ever.

Blair looks up from her laptop, where she’s trying to complete some homework, concern and worry etched onto her face as she witnesses her best friend’s outburst.

“Um, are you okay?” she asks, knowing that Aquaria is someone that tends to bottle up her emotions, not scream and throw things.

“I’m just stressed about this whole portfolio shit, I need it to be perfect,” Aquaria lies, rubbing her forehead aggressively.

“Lie,” says Blair nonchalantly, closing her laptop lid and moving to sit beside her best friend, who is trying desperately to stop her eyes from watering.

“Excuse me?” Aquaria says timidly, not looking her friend as she blinks furiously down at the sewing machine.

“You’ve been stressed about this for months. And when you’re stressed you turn it out, not fuck it up. Something else is on your mind and you’re telling me what it is right now,” Blair demands.

“You’ll think I’m stupid.”

“If it’s got you this worked up, it can’t be stupid. Spill! Spill!” Blair starts chanting and it almost puts a smile on Aquaria’s face, who pushes her friend playfully to get her to shut up.

“Okay, fine, Jesus. I’m just worried about a friend of ours who I think there’s something wrong with. She’s just acting really weird and I’m wondering if she’s okay,” she mumbles, trying to play it off as no big deal, which it probably isn’t.

“Who is this?” There’s a long pause whilst Aquaria stares down at her manicured nails in shame. “Aquaria, who?”

“Brianna.”

“Oh for god’s – you can’t let her ruin this for you. I know you’re obsessed with her-”

“Woah, woah, wait a minute, I am not obsessed with her. She got a C- today, B,” Aquaria says dramatically, like that’s supposed to clear everything up. Blair seems unbothered.

“So what?”

“So what?” Aquaria repeats in disbelief, annoyed at the lack of reaction. “This is Brianna. She always gets A’s.”

“Q, I love you, but I don’t think that Brianna getting a C- on one test should be the focus of you little brain right now,” Blair says, gesturing to Aquaria’s sketches that are now littering her room, along with the torn bit of fabric. “Have you even talked to her about it?”

“Well, no, but she’s not really given me much of a chance. We’re not exactly super close anymore, are we?” Aquaria feels her throat close up a little, before shaking her head, her friend giving her a pitying look.

“If it stops you worrying, just grab her after class and ask her if she’s okay. It’s really not hard, babe, it’s just being a good friend, and I’ll bet she’ll be happy to know you’re thinking of her.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to her,” Aquaria mumbles, choosing to ignore the last statement, knowing it probably won’t help, especially as she’s the fucking worst at giving advice.

“Okay?” Blair asks, receiving a reluctant nod in reply from her friend, who picks up her material from the floor in shame.

Aquaria knows how she feels about Brianna isn’t just friendly. She does. Blair might be her best friend, and Monét might be Brianna’s, but they’ve known each other a long time, longer than any of the other girls in their friendship group.

Aquaria recalls the day they met, almost ten years ago. She was always left out and picked on by the other kids; they thought she was way too weird and stupid, always laughing at the things she said and how she acted, which is a huge deal when you’re eight. Aquaria hated them all, and hated school. And then, a new girl moved to Aquaria’s town, and started at the school.

She had the biggest, kindest brown eyes that Aquaria had ever seen, and made it her mission to befriend the quirky girl who preferred to be alone. She sat down next to her whilst all the other kids went out to play, and handed her half her sandwich without a second word.

And that was that.

And then they grew back apart again, after a night which left Aquaria in tears, and unable to look her former best friend in the eye for months. They remained friends, tied together by mutual friends and mutual classes, but it’s nothing like it used to be.

So they’re not the closest of friends, not anymore, but conversation still comes naturally and easily, they can laugh together without it being awkward, and pick up wherever they left off. Aquaria’s quite an awkward person, but Brianna feels like someone who will never judge or ridicule her, who she can always come to for any sort of advice.

Feelings have been brewing under the surface for Aquaria for years now, of course she knows that, she’s just been pretending they’re not there, because a harmless crush is pointless when Brianna has no interest in her in the slightest. Her act of indifference has most people convinced, everyone except for Blair, who can see right through the paper-thin charade and has been teasing her best friend about it ever since.

Aquaria tries not to care. She can admire Brianna in class and be her friend the rest of the time. It’s not that hard, really. It’s not.

Aquaria has French the period before lunch on Friday, so she plans on grabbing Brianna after the class so they can have some time to talk. Her plan, however, is foiled when the blonde doesn’t even show up.

Aquaria spends the whole class sick with worry, unable to concentrate on her work, her nails tapping the surface of the desk rapidly, staring at the door and expecting her friend’s face to poke round it at any second, an apologetic smile pulling at her plump lips. Her mind is in overdrive, and it feels like everything is going off track.

As soon as class is over, she starts to walk to lunch slowly, pulling out her phone and calling her friend once, twice, three times with no reply. Aquaria rakes her hand through her black hair, almost clawing at her scalp.

She needs to calm down. Brianna is probably sick, and that’s why she’s off school, and sleeping, and that’s why her phone is left unanswered. Something in the back of Aquaria’s mind is still buzzing, however, drowning out her attempts to reassure herself and filling her mind with anxiety, like the sea pulling her under on a stormy day.

So, she bypasses the cafeteria and heads instead straight to her locker. Aquaria takes a second to linger over the polaroids decorating the inside of the door, adorned with stickers and hearts drawn sloppily in black sharpie. They’re mostly of herself and Blair, though it’s closely followed by some of her favourites of her and Brianna throughout their ten years of up-and-down friendship, as well as the other girls that Aquaria is friends with, group selfies and candid shots from parties and movie nights. Her eyes stop on a picture the summer before she started high school, of her and Brianna lounging by a pool, goofy grins on their faces, their bodies clad in bikinis. They had been so excited, buzzing with nervous energy about the adventures of high school that were to come.

Aquaria shakes her head and grabs her gym bag, slamming her locker shut and cutting off her thoughts of a simpler time, before she realised what a hellhole this place actually is, and what the hell it did to her friendship.

She storms through school like a lady on a mission. No matter what, Aquaria can always calm herself down through a vigorous dance session, pushing her body to the limit until she’s drenched in sweat and her only thought is of a shower.

She has a free period next, so she changes quickly, shooting a quick text to the group chat to let them know what she’s up to, planning to use all the time she can get to try to push the ridiculous thoughts of Brianna from her mind, at least for a little bit.

The high school is attached to a leisure centre, which the students use themselves in classes, but is open to the general public also, therefore the students have access to private rooms they can use to practise sports, as the public do, considering they pay.

Aquaria makes use of this any time she can, choosing the smaller rooms any time she can to practise her dance in peace.

Aside from a class playing volleyball in the gym, the area is empty as Aquaria walks back to the changing rooms, every single muscle on her whole body screaming out in pain. She loves to push herself or she feels like there’s no point, but today she obliterated the limit, only stopping when her throat screamed for water.

It worked, as well, as she soaks herself in the scolding water of the shower, her mind is taken up by the success of her session and not a certain blonde. As the heat from the water cascades over her body, she lets her mind empty of all thoughts, closing her eyes against the surprisingly decent stream of water and takes her time washing her body, allowing herself to be at peace for a while.

Finally, Aquaria steps out the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around her glistening body. The changing rooms are empty, therefore she is free to take her time to dry herself with the scratchy material of the towel from her gym bag, not quite ready to face the outside world yet.

She still has half of the period left before the next class starts, so, after redressing and pulling her damp hair into a careless messy bun, she decides to head to the library. Not to do school work, of course, just to flip through the latest issue of Vogue in search for inspiration.

Aquaria is happily walking up to her locker through the deserted hallways of the school, feeling surprisingly refreshed, her usually busy mind feeling almost new again, before it will be undoubtedly hit with a new tidal wave of thoughts. Her locker is up in the music block, as that’s where she has homeroom, and she’s just walking past one of the sound proof practise rooms when she happens to glance inside, through the glass panel in the door, and spots a familiar face, distorted by the glass, but familiar all the same.

Brianna.

She’s sitting at the far end of the tiny room, with her feet propped up on a chair, her head bent over a guitar, and she appears to be singing something. Aquaria inches carefully closer to the door, watching her friend who is oblivious to her presence. She looks so sad.

Brianna has always loved music, Aquaria knows that. She taught herself how to play guitar at a young age, and constantly came up with little melodies and songs that went with them, getting her best friend to chip in on the harmonies once in a while. But, to Aquaria’s knowledge, she hasn’t played in a while. And here she is, when she should probably be in class, strumming her old guitar, distinguishable by the old band stickers that faded a long time ago, and the dent from the time Aquaria dropped in on her wooden floor, by accident

And then Brianna looks up, and spots Aquaria standing in the doorway holding a gym bag and a concerned gaze, and lifts her hand up in a sort of half-hearted wave, getting up and placing the battered guitar down. She goes over to the door where Aquaria is frozen in a sort of silent embarrassment at being caught, and opens it.

“Hi,” Brianna says simply, before walking back into the room and retaking her seat.

Aquaria supposes that this as an invitation, and cautiously enters the room, shutting the door softly behind her, before perching on the piano stool close to where her friend is sitting. She studies her face for a second, all the worry and anxiety that she just worked so hard to get rid of flooding back and smacking her across the head again.

“What are you doing? Are you okay, Bri?”

At least she can finally talk to Brianna, again, and settle the matter for good, but the response from her friend is not at all what she’s expecting, her sad brown eyes lifting up to gaze into her own, her mind clearly occupied by something that has been pressing down on her for a while.

“What happened to me and you?”

It feels like a slap across the face, a cold, hard slap with a wet fish. That’s not even dead. And covered in slime.

“What do you mean?” Aquaria’s mouth feels dry, so she runs her tongue across her lower lip, which helps very little. She knows exactly what she means.

“We used to be best friends, Aqua. We were inseparable. Don’t you remember us sharing everything? I stayed at your house, like, every other night. What the fuck went wrong?” Brianna is angry now, and it takes Aquaria by surprise – it’s a rare emotion in the usually laid back, easy going and happy girl that she used to know so well.

“We’re still friends,” Aquaria mumbles, though it’s a poor attempt at reassurance. Is this what’s been weighing down on Brianna the last week? Surely it can’t be? And yet, a small part of Aquaria’s heart, dedicated to Brianna, lights up in hope that it could be.

“Yeah, great. I can’t remember the last time I was alone with you. When did we last hang out that wasn’t at fucking lunchtime?”

It hurts. It really fucking hurts. Aquaria’s chest feels like it’s closing in on her. Brianna doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember the fatal night that caused Aquaria to distance herself from Brianna, gradually, slowly, because the more time she spent with her, the more it hurt, like a dagger twisted into her chest, plunging deeper as the days, weeks, months passed. She had to get it out, even if that meant the end of their friendship, which it almost did.

She sure as hell isn’t going to bring it up.

“I know,” she says instead, shaking her head, hoping that the hurt she feels hasn’t seeped into her voice. “You know I still care about you. Which is why I want to know what’s been going on with you?”

“Don’t change the subject!” Brianna groans, clearly uncomfortable at what she knows Aquaria is about to bring up.

“Bri, you got a C and didn’t even care. You missed French, and you’re in here in a free period! I’m not crazy, something is the matter,” Aquaria says, mostly to reassure herself. There’s a long pause, as Brianna appears to be thinking something over, painfully slowly. Aquaria chews at the inside of her cheek anxiously, enough so that the metallic taste of her own blood seeps into her mouth

“Well, okay,” Brianna says, at last, looking up at Aquaria with a small, sad smile on her face. “Maybe you can help me. I could use your advice.”

“You know I’m shit at advice. You do know I’m shit at advice?” Aquaria says. If Brianna remembered who she was at all she would know that, but the girl just shakes her head, looking at Aquaria as if she holds a cure for all her troubles.

“I think you’re my best bet, right now.”

There’s something about this statement that makes Aquaria extremely nervous, the worry now pounding through her mind, amplified to a million times to what it was before, but how the hell can she refuse now?

“Um, okay, I’ll try my best.”

“I’ve been, sort of, realising some things about myself recently.”

“Things?”

There’s a long, painful, drawn out pause. Brianna can’t even look at Aquaria, who’s staring at her so intensely she might possibly be about to burn a hole through her skull.

“Like, maybe I’m not actually straight?”

Oh. That was not what Aquaria was expecting, at all. She almost chokes on air, trying her best to maintain a neutral disposition as she nods encouragingly, willing Brianna to continue as her mind starts whirring at a million miles an hour. Is this about her? Can she possibly dare to hope that it is?

“You’re… gay?”

“Maybe, god, I don’t know. I haven’t talked to a single person about this yet.”

God, that feels like old times. A bittersweet wave of nostalgia washes over Aquaria. Sitting up for hours and blurting any random thing that they could ever possibly think of. No secrets, no lies. Come to think of it, Brianna did once say that she had an unexplainable crush on the groovy chick girl that adorned her bedding as a kid.

“I just feel so lost, all of a sudden. I’m eighteen years old and I’m only just figuring out that I like girls?”

“Hey, that’s not that old. People don’t figure it out until college normally.”

Brianna laughs, though it’s painfully bitter, shaking her head in amusement, causing her friend to smile, just slightly.

“See, bad advice! What did I tell you?”

“I just can’t stop thinking about it, like, it’s keeping me up at night. And I have to avoid her, which is where you come in.”

“What?”

“Well, she made me realise I like girls at all. I have a huge, ridiculous crush on her.”

“Who, Bri?”

“Blair.”

And, just like that, the world comes crumbling down.

[tisfan]

Exactly Like Hell

Title: Exactly Like Hell Collaborator: @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: B5 -- Skye -- Daisy Johnson/Self-cest Ship: Skye/Daisy Framework Rating: teen Major Tags: Implied Torture, Self Hatred, Ambiguous Ending Summary: Daisy needs information that can only be found in the Framework. Unfortunately, Skye was waiting for her. Word Count: 556

Created for @mcukinkbingo

“I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come back here,” Skye said. “I’d hoped, but I didn’t expect it. I’d be disappointed, if I wasn’t so pleased.”

Because it was Skye, not Daisy, not the Inhuman, but the Hacker, and completely faithful to Hydra.

It hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been to reinhabit the body of Skye, to use it to search through the impossible database that was the Framework. But when did anything ever go the way Daisy planned?

Since never.

“Wasn’t exactly like I had a choice,” Daisy muttered. She struggled with the cords, but they were some sort of adaptive material and they held her fast no matter which way she turned. “You know none of this is real, right? You’re not real.”

“No? I’m not the sum of my experiences, the results of my choices, a consciousness given form?” Skye wondered. “If a meat and blood shell is what makes me real, I can probably arrange that, too. But if I’m not real, then you’re not real, in here, either. Your mind is in here, with me, and your body won’t survive without it. If I kill you in here, bang, you’re dead. So, who’s real and who is not, those are interesting questions. How long do you think it’ll take them to notice that you’re not the one who came back?”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Daisy demanded. She tried to reach for her ability to quake, but she couldn’t it, she couldn’t reach, it was like a broken arm that she couldn’t move.

“Oh, stop that,” Skye told her. “Do you think I’d let you into a body that had been through terragenesis? When you tried to shut this world down, tried to pretend that the other world was the only thing that mattered, did you think the survivors of that apocalypse learned nothing?”

Daisy huffed out a breath. It was hard to look at herself. The young idealist, a hater of inhumans, a tool of Hydra. A lie. That was all Skye was, she was a lie. She was something stretched and changed and distorted, built on the same base that had made Daisy, but twisted, somehow.

“I am you,” Skye said, getting up close and personal, right into Daisy’s space. “I am you! You think you’re so much better, but you’re not! I am you, and I will be you, and I will get out of this hellhole of your making.”

“If I’m you and you’re me, then we made this hellhole together,” Daisy pointed out.

Even the ringing slap that Skye delivered didn’t quite wipe the smirk off of Daisy’s face. She spat a mouthful of blood and just grinned, knowing what she must look like.

“That’s what you’ve got? Pain?”

“I think you’ll find out that it’s an adequate method of persuasion,” Skye told her. In here, we have all the time in the world, and all the pain that I can give you, that never touches your physical body, your body in that other world will just go on and on. And you can’t come out unless leave here on your own. But when you leave, you’re going to take me with you.”

“Like hell,” Daisy snapped. She struggled again, because she couldn’t not.

“Exactly like hell,” Skye responded.

[hush-falls-the-evening]

The Devil in camp

Characters: Edward Nygma (Detective), Jonathan Crane (???), scriddler

Rating: T Words: 4,262  

Chapter: 2/??

Misc Info: Murder/Mystery/Fantasy au, Slowburn, Scriddler

Synopsis: Detective Nygma had no say whether he wanted any part of this. What was supposed to be a case of missing people in a small town quickly turned into a most bizarre affair. 

There is no way to tell whether the threat comes from the forest cradling them in its overwhelming embrace... or if true evil lies where everyone can see.Whoever Edward decides to believe, the people who sought his help or the shadow haunting his dreams... 

There is one thing the detective knows for sure.

There's something very, very wrong with this town.

Follow the story on AO3

Small towns. Edward never bothered with small towns.

Glory Hills was, contrary to what its name might suggest, a rather humble town. It might had seen success a long, long time ago when it was first founded toward the late 19th century, but that qualification hardly applied on this dying town, slowly bleeding out of its younger population who preferred seeking opportunities in distant cities. Smart kids.

It was rather isolated from the outside, for a start. The town had settled its economy on various resources over the years. A bit of lumbering. A bit of mining. A bit of hunting. Farming was not the most efficient with the type of soil they were living on but, somehow the land had never failed them, or so he’s been told. They tended to rely on themselves foremost and only required, or sought, external assistance for the occasional lack of said necessities. The closest neighboring town being 20 minutes away on the highway is probably one of the reasons they set to be self-reliant on the first place. That, and a stiff stubbornness in regards of modernization. 

They did have Wifi though. So that was a comfort. It was spectacularly spotty, however.

Though, it could be said the scenery was quite compelling at various time of day, if you had a thing for that sort of rustic aesthetics. The slight groove it was built into was cradled by hills and the looming forest furnishing them. There was a creek originating from the dark folds of said woodland. Since his arrival, he had been told that if everyone stopped and paid attention to it, they could hear the sound of rushing water, humming like a voice. compelling, growing, engulfing....  

.... Moving on. to Edward’s annoyance, the town’s inhabitants were not particularly warm to outsiders. Or perhaps it was the late September’s chill affecting their manners and.... hospitality.

There was, however, one thing Edward did knew about small towns. They kept their history very close to their chests. 

All he had to do, was ask the right questions.

“And here we have a painting of Mayor Mansfield, who was in office for nearly 20 years before passing his seat to his son-in-Law, Mayor Redfields Senior, who you might recognize as our current Mayor’s grandfather.”

“Ah yes. Tell me, Mrs. Redfields. Did you-”

“-And finally, here we have a portrait of the Redfields’ Manor, up on the eastern hill. You see, Glory, as we call it, had a change of heart in the 20s, and we were extremely lucky to have a type of soil that favored certain kind of flowers. The Mansfields, who originally built the manor in 1923, made the economy boom through commercialization of our local variety. That business lasted... oh, ten years? Give or take. Then the flowers actually spread outside of the area and, it’s been regarded as little more than weed by the locals. Still, every spring, you can see them everywhere, particularly on your way up the hill to the manor! It is luxurious and rich and covering the lands like the blood of our nation!”

Edward nodded amiably at the stout woman, tightening his fists behind his back as he awaited for his client to finish “an important call”. Mrs. Redfields must had been in her late 50s, with a obvious habit of smoking for the looks of her teeth and a subtle yellowing of her fingers... Unless the nearby spittoons were actually indicative of a tobacco chewer. Either way.

Her eyes were somewhat sunken deep in her skull. They were alert and alive with the newfound opportunity of sharing the history of their town to any politely inquisitive visitors, and had commandeered the conversation ever since Edward had uttered his first unfortunate question. 

At any another time, perhaps Edward would had enjoyed this kind of tour. But he had the growing impression that his client had either forgotten he was expecting to see him or, plausibly, that the lady herself had not actually informed her husband of his arrival as soon as she saw the possibility to ramble the excess of information held into her thinning cranium and never had the chance to spill at any of the jaded locals.

Which, to an extent, Edward sympathized with. However, he was not above hypocrisy. 

Before he could make his 5th attempt at placing a word in the conversation, the tall doors leading to the Mayoral office opened on a balding man with a permanent wrinkle up on his forehead. His brows were knitted as he ran his eyes across the hall. “Margaret, have you seen- OH! Oh, Detective Nygma, welcome! I was expecting you earlier, I was worried you might have gotten lost on your way here...”

Edward tried not to shot his eyes through the lady next to him who, he could see from the corner of his eyes, was puffing her chest, standing as tall as her height permitted. Shamelessly daring anyone to question her reasoning.  

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Redfield.” Edward crossed the distance swiftly, shaking the man’s hand. His palms were sweaty and left a sticky sensation over his own.

Mayor Redfields briefly grinned apologetically, though it was not very convincing a grin. Everyone was quite aware of that, and he did not try further. “Let us begin, then. Please, come in. Have a seat.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Mayor’s Office was, in a similar taste as the rest of the house, old-fashioned with a hint of decay around its edges. Edward made sure not to point them out and focused on the content of the office itself, which featured books and papers at various places obviously not made for books and papers. It was messy, is what he was trying NOT to say.

Many pictures of those infamous red flowers as well, whom the redhead could recognize as Morning glories.

The detective sat in a pink-cushioned chair with his legs crossed, his hands patiently folded until he heard the ridiculous favor he had been asked to perform for this man.

“I must say, Mr. Redfields, your friends were... quite convincing when I was told I was required to assist you in this.... case.”

“Ah... yes. It’s been quite a thorn in my side for the 2 past years-.”

“Which I’ve come to understand,” Edward cut him, grinning unpleasantly. “has to do with disappearing citizens? Would you mind elaborating on that, or should I go the old-fashioned way and interview each and every single one of your constituents? However, I trust you could offer some valuable insights?”

He should had been mindful of the condescension in his tone, but his patience had ran thin until this conversation. He had lost valuable time, and he would gladly appreciate a quick briefing on what he needed to know to begin his investigation and get done with this hellhole.

He saw the other man straightening himself, leaning his elbows over the desk. “Of course... Well, there have been a few... disappearances, in the past few years. Some we just assumed people who left and never returned, having shown signs of those kind of behaviors in the past. However..... We recently found how... one of our most skilled hunter have met a most... dreadful end. It-... It has been a week now so, of course our police department have investigated the crime scene and removed the corpse from it’s.... confinement.”

“Confinement?” The detective emphasized, observing every detail of the man in front of him. From his shifty eyes to the shaking of his hands.

Redfields fetched a cloth he used to wipe the pearls of sweat on his forehead, rising to retrieve a folder from one of his drawers.

“We took pictures of everything, of course. I’ve... not looked at them much myself. It is a rather upsetting sight for me. Acker was a good friend of mine...” he trailed off, looking anywhere except at Edward’s perceptive glare.

Edward leaned to take the folder, opening it to reveal.... a rather peculiar death.

Well. 

“Intriguing.” Edward carded through each pictures. Taking a moment to notice the details of every frame. “Mr. Redfields?”

The older man turned to him in mild astonishment, as if he had only noticed him now. “Yes?”

“Has this ever happened before?”

Edward kept a close eye on the man, and what he saw only made him more.. curious.

“No! No... This is, not anything I have ever seen. You.. You can clearly see the branches had gone-..... oh god”

“It’s quite alright, sir. Please sit back down.”

And the man did just so, looking particularly upset. He resumed wiping at his bald head while Edward looked at the pictures a second time over.

Admittedly, if this murder had been staged, which it must had been... someone had put incredible efforts to make it look like a tree had somehow engulfed the man into its trunk, branches and leaves sprouting out of his permanently escaping corpse. His arms reaching out for an escape he had obviously no power to reach...

What was most striking was the utter look of terror in the man’s expression. If all of this was true, the hunter had seen some unspeakable horror.... Well. Theoretically, dying in that fashion would be quite horrifying, you didn’t need to be a genius the likes of him to know that much.

Which was nonsense, really. But, a possibility.

“Any idea how he had got himself stuck in there? Unless that is a hobby around these parts...”

“Oh, no, no... We, truly do not know.” 

Something in his voice made Edward shot his eyes back on him, this time, the mayor found himself pinned from a severe glare. 

This was the second time the man had lied to him, and he was itching to find answers.

“Truly?” the detective repeated, irking a brow at him.

“Well..... well there is...”

“I need all the information I can work with, Mr. Redfields. So I suggest you tell me what’s troubling you so much.” He kept his sight on him for a spell, then tilted his head. “Unless you want me to find out for myself?”

Redfields didn’t answered right away, but managed to mutter an explanation.

“It all started when my great-grandfather became mayor of this town...”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Something new had come into Glory Hills.

From the depth, It hummed to his ears like a rumor through the leaves. It traveled like shimmer through the thickest of branches. 

It pulled at his core, at the bones at his feet, at the roots feeding on them.

From the Unseen to the cursed... and in their silence, bound into completion. 

It led him back to their civilization, breathing in the foul stench. 

And his whole kingdom inhaled as one.

Something new had come into Glory Hills.

The air tasted of rust. Stained those who stayed too long on these grounds. It moved around them, it moved from them. Seeping into their clothes and drowning their thoughts with the promises of mortality and decay.

The time had come again.

But this year would be... most memorable.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“So what you are telling me... is how this town has been haunted by a creature of the woods for the last century?” the redhead was incredulous. He was also irritated. He was going through a lot at the moment.

Folk tales..... of all things.

“Well... It never came to this before. They stayed near the perimeter of the forests... Acker was a good man, he would had never gone to... to that place...” Redfields rubbed both of his meaty hands over his tired eyes. He looked near exhausted. “They never bothered us like this before.”

Edward made a note to... entertain the idea. Although the thought alone was royally insulting his intellect. He let the silence grow between them until the other man managed to look at him again. 

“That place you’re referring to being the crime scene?”

“Yes...”

“I suppose you were not expecting me to shy away from a crime scene on the account of it being haunted?”

“It isn’t haunted, Mr.-”

“-Detective.”

“.... Detective Nygma, but no... Despite my beliefs, I know we must find answers first...”

Edward nodded at his conclusion. The mayor filled him in on additional details, showing him a map of the events which Edward borrowed shamelessly as he stood to take his leaves. The sun was setting and he had half a mind to go back to his...... “residence” before going to the next logical step of his investigation.

Hitting the local bars.

“The answer is evident to me, Mayor Redfields,” Edward approached almost amiably, putting on his emerald green coat and favored bowler hat on, a cane he had begrudgingly left behind when Lady Redfields had pried it out of his hands with aggressive hospitality. “do you believe the disappearances are connected to this affair?”

“Oh no well, not all of them I’m sure... We do lose a few kids every year to the appeal of the city.” He tried to grin, like this was some kind inside joke which Edward did not have a witty banter to reply with. 

“I will see you tomorrow at noon. Until then, Mayor Redfields.”

The man offered once more that esquisse of a smile as Edward turned to open the door, leaving behind this troubled man who, even if he hated to admit it, had quite a mystery on his hands.

Perhaps, aside for all the nonsense of it, Edward has found a puzzle worth his time in this dreadful place.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

As the eccentric "detective” left the driveway of their home, Geordan Redfields stood where he was last seen for as long as he could hear the sound of wheels on the crumbling pavement. As he turned to walk back into his office, he found his wife Margaret standing there with a basket of fresh baked goods, a look of disgruntlement as she held it with one hand, the other on her bony hip.

“You forgot the basket, Dan.” She sighed, almost dropping it carelessly on a table-stand. “How is he going to stay plump if you let him run around so much?”

“Patience, my flower.” Geordan’s attitude at completely changed as soon as the man left. He exhaled loudly and ambled back to plant a kiss between her brows, her eyes throwing lightnings at him, he had no doubts. 

“We still have a month ahead of us, do we not?”

Author’s notes: Hey guys, thank you for reading this. I owe a great lot to my friends and those who encourage me no matter the moods. 

I'll see you guys on the next cliff hanger. I love you all, please stay warm <3<3<3 

ps: Comments are appreciated. Dammit. I love ya’ll but give me some damn feedback so I know what you want. 

[stars-of-kyber]

And Light To Meet it

This is my first Reylo fic, I’m writing with a friend. 

Summary:

The fight between the First Order and the rebellion intensifies. While Rey must help the rebellion to gather allies, she sends a puzzle to Kylo as he faces an unexpected trial to help him understand if Ben Solo is really dead. And he must discover it alone.

Read it on AO3

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away….

"Civil war rages in the galaxy. The rebel forces grow as General Organa continues to mobilize old and new allies and partners of the former New Republic.

Rey, the last of the Jedi is a know beacon of hope for the entire galaxy, but with powerful force users on both sides of the dispute, the war seems endless.

As the dispute for territory and trade routes grows more intense, the Supreme Leader goes on a quest to affirm the First Order's presence in the galaxy and establish control over the Outer Rim..."

It had not been five minutes since his ship had approached Felucia’s system and Ren already wished Starkiller base had destroyed the whole planet when it had the chance. The weird-looking hellhole of a jungle seemed as if located in the farthest possible place from any hint of civilization, and yet its strategic location for trade had proven itself essencial during the clone wars and for the Empire, and now with the new civil war raging in the galaxy, it became crucial that the First Order made its presence felt on planet.

Of course trade wasn’t the only reason why he had chosen to take this mission. No. That had more to do with the little golden box over the control panel that seemed to mock him ever since his officers had delivered it to him. Sealed shut, the Jedi holocron wouldn’t open no matter how much he tried. On its surface only two words were visible, engraved in the metal: For Ben.

He didn’t have to open it to know that was Rey’s writing.

“Supreme Leader.” A voice called out behind him, clearly higher pitched than it would normally be.

Kylo turned around to face the skinny pale-faced officer. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and even if Kylo was not force sensitive, the terror in his eyes when he addressed him was visible. And irritating.

“What?” Ren barked at him. He was in no mood to deal with whatever it is that their incompetence would throw at him now.

“I’m afraid we have detected a large rebel presence on planet. They appear to have taken control of the eastern First Order base.”

Kylo snapped, his hand shooting up, as the rage took over him. The officer reached for his own neck, his feet lifting from the ground as if an invisible hand pulled him up by his collar.

“And why is it” Kylo spoke pausadly, his ear buzzing ‘that I am only hearing about this NOW?” he released the man, barking the last word at him

The officer fell to the ground on the bridge, coughing and gasping for air. He didn’t dare look up as he answered:

“Sir, the Rebels have taken control of one of our transmission towers on the planet. Today, it seems.”

“Change the course. Turn the ship west. We need to regroup with our remaining base and wipe the rebels out of this jungle.”

“Should we signal General Hux ordering reinforcements?” The officer asked nervously.

“No. Let’s assess the situation before we call any sort of backup.” Kylo waved his hand dismissively. “Now do as I said!”

The man rose, slowly regaining his composure as he saluted.

“Right away sir.”

The cruiser made a sharp turn west, and Ren turned to the front panel again, this time focusing on their attack plans. If the rebels had taken control of the transmission it meant that once they were on planet, the rebels would have the advantage to call on reinforcements. They must not let their presence be known, and the tower should be their first target.

Not a minute after thinking that, he sensed something shifting around them. He knew what the admiral’s words would be before he said them.

“Sir, rebel ships approaching.”

“Jam their signal. Prepare the cannons to fire at sight. I want them all down!”

Seven x-wings approached in V formation. That was a good sign. The fact that they hadn’t sent out the entire present fleet meant that they probably hadn’t been noticed by the main rebel base.

Red and green laser bolts started flying all around them creating a patch of colorful deathly rays among the stars. One x-wing got hit and was blown to pieces by their heavy cannons before the screams of the pilot could be heard through the coms, but even with all of the cruiser’s heavy artillery their ships were too small, and maneuvered their way to target the cruiser’s shield generators.

“Keep firing on them. Send the TIE fighters.” He yelled, picking up the the holocron and attaching it to his belt as he walked away from the main bridge “Prepare my TIE silencer, I will deal with this myself.”

They dared not contradict the Supreme Leader as the sound of his heavy steps disappeared from the bridge into the hangar. Though it had seemed strange to them at first that he would jump on a fighter himself, he had worked with the Leviathan ’s crew for some time now, and they were getting used to him flying alongside them by now. They had been used to cowardly leaders, hiding behind lower officers, sending people to obvious death sentences while standing safe in the bridge. But if there was was thing that Supreme Leader Kylo Ren wasn’t, was a coward.

He slid into the Silencer with ease. He felt more comfortable alone in there, guns in hand than aboard any destroyer having to deal with the failings of his crew. He watched through the panel as another X-wing was taken down. Good. One less to go. Now there were only 5 left to deal with.

“All TIEs, follow me.” He ordered, using the comm link “Get those ships away from the shield generator.” He spun, dodging from shot after shot coming from the X-Wings behind him. By his side, two of his pilots struggled doing the same thing. Four enemy ships were behind them and the other one delve below the cruiser, headed towards the shield generator.

He pulled his TIE up, taking a ninety degree turn upwards. His body leaned forward as the ship looped around it’s edge. Angled directly above one of the X-wings, he gave them no time to react to the sudden shift, immediately locking on target and firing on the first one. The X-wing blew into a million pieces, clearing the path for the TIE pilot to defend the generator.

The three rebel ships bellow him scattered in different directions, breaking formation. He took a sharp turn to follow the one that headed closer to the cruiser. Through the silencer’s glass panel he could see that an X-Wings had managed to take down one of the fighters. Kylo didn’t even flinch. He was spinning, dodging and diving and it was the most natural thing in the world for him. He could feel the force flowing through him like an open flame, igniting at every turn, sensing every presence, every shift. He could feel it’s raging fire tearing apart his enemies one by one as he fired flawlessly on target. It was power. And it was all consuming.

The rebels were down to two ships. One of them was after the other remaining TIE and the other was knocking the generator hard. The fighter managed to dodge the X-wing’s attacks while Kylo engaged them, but by the time they did so the generator had suffered too much damage. The cruiser’s shields were down. One welll aimed direct hit now could take down the whole thing.

Kylo’s hands tightened around the controls, rage pumping through his blood. He pulled the ship back and in a matter of seconds he was just behind the X-wing that had taken down the generator. The rebel pilot tried to evade him, but it was of no use. The force user was like a missile flying straight to his target. A green laser bolt and a flash of bright light and the x-wing was reduced to space dust.

He made a sharp turn to face the only rebel ship left. This X-Wing’s flight was more precise, and you could tell it was flown by a better or more experienced pilot. It chased down the TIE pilot who zigzagged through space clearly lost as how to disengage. The supreme leader didn’t even mind when their last TIE was finally taken down. The First Order was only as strong as their weakest link, afterall.

Now there was only one left. One remaining enemy craft against him and the entire cruiser. In their place anyone would have jumped to lightspeed an ran as far away from them as they could, but Kylo knew the Rebels and understood them better than anyone from the First Order ever could. They were reckless and harsh. They made absurd decisions and took on impossible tasks. They would say to each other may the force be with you on the blind hope that they would be able to accomplish something , anything. The X-wing pilot was going to throw themselves at the cruiser. They must have known they wouldn’t survive, but they insisted on at least taking down their ship with them.

There was something to be said about their spirit. Unfortunately for them though, the force was with Kylo, and he was locked on target.

Ben?

One second. That’s all it would have took for Ren to take out the last of the rebels and continue their mission as scheduled. Instead, at the sound of the familiar voice that called to him, he couldn’t help but turn to his side to see the face he hadn’t seen in such a long time. She had her hair down and her brown eyes seemed to pierce through his soul, as always. He had almost forgotten what that felt like to be regarded by her… Like being truly and deeply seen for the first time.

Rey?

Three seconds. That’s all it took for the rebel X-Wing to throw itself onto the cruiser and for everything to go up in flames. Suddenly regaining his focus, he managed to steer the silencer away from the explosion, a piece of metal scrap from the wrecked ship hitting the craft just as it was being pulled back, pushing it further towards Felucia’s gravitational pull. The TIE’s left wing was badly damaged, unbalancing the entire ship.

As he came spiralling down towards the planet, Kylo Ren wondered who really was the First Order’s weakest link.

[scrollingkingfisher]

A Foxy Problem

In general, Gabriel avoided hunters. Pranking humans wasn’t so fun when there was a chance that it might end with a stake in your back, even for an older, more cunning kitsune like he was. However, sometimes he had to make an exception to the rule. John Winchester was that exception.

Or, Gabriel tries to get a little revenge, and ends up with more than he bargained for.

My September entry for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge! The prompt I used was ‘He could hear him banging around in the kitchen, probably making a mess’

@gabriel-monthly-challenge, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @lacqueluster, @ashiewesker, @revwinchester

AO3

Words;  2474   

Rating;  Gen- all the fluff

Tags;  Kitsune, Creature Gabriel (Supernatural), Accidental Baby Acquisition, Child Neglect, John Winchester's A+ Parenting

In general, Gabriel avoided hunters.

They weren’t worth the hassle. Pranking humans wasn’t so fun when there was a chance that it might end with a stake in your back, even for an older, more cunning kitsune like he was. He wasn’t going to give them the opportunity to pin all nine of his tails to their wall, even if some of the more sanctimonious ones were just begging for a lesson in humility.

However, sometimes he had to make an exception to the rule. John Winchester was that exception.

Gabriel had been more than willing to leave the man be. He hadn’t even been tricking the hunter. He’d been minding his own business, pulling a prank on three of the local douchebags when Winchester had showed up in town and started harassing him.

And okay, so sometimes he took his pranks a little too far on the harmful side of things. And sometimes they went wrong. And there was that time when he accidentally pranked that lady's twin sister. That didn't mean he was inherently evil!

But apparently that didn't mean anything to John-frickin-Winchester. Because before he knew it the guy was tailing him across town, and seeing as he could teleport, that was no mean feat. Within a day and a half the hunter had found his two temporary dens. Not his main one yet, thankfully, that had too many layers of protection. But still, that was getting uncomfortably close. John Winchester deserved to be taught a lesson not to mess with things that didn't concern him.

Which was how Gabriel found himself lurking in the shadows outside the motel room where Winchester was saying. His info said that he had a kid as well (Gabriel wondered how raising a five-year-old fit into the hunting lifestyle), but the tyke should be at school at this time. He raised his sharp snout into the air; nope, no one in. Perfect.  

Looking at the motel, it seemed even more run down than what hunters usually went for. And that was saying something. He sniffed experimentally and grimaced at the odour of mould, rust and neglect that lingered around the place, even more potent in his fox form than it would have been in his human one. But nevertheless, it was time for Winchester’s day of reckoning. He would rue ever setting eyes on Gabriel.

The wards were almost too easy to get through. One little nudge and they snapped like wet paper towels, letting him sneak through the door, invisible to passers by.

Gabriel slunk silently into the room, his paws making less noise than a mouse as he padded gently across the faded carpet. The curtains were drawn, and the low light made the room look even gloomier than it was already, but Gabriel’s sharp night vision let him pick out the details. He glanced over the unmade beds, the guns, the wall covered in newspaper and string, the rest of the hunter’s paraphernalia littered across the room. He wrinkled his sensitive nose at the smell of cheap whisky and gunpowder.

What should he do first? Should he start with the full-out chaos, or something more subtle? He could always switch around all those map pins, that would throw him off the scent for a while. Gabriel licked his sharp canines and contemplated, one foot raised delicately.

Just as he was thinking, he heard a rustle. He whipped around, all his tails bristling out in aggressive display, a snarl already on his face. His eyes locked on his target, his magic tensed and ready to land a deadly blow, and then he froze.

On the floor, between the two beds, there was a baby.

Round hazel eyes were watching him curiously, without a hint of fear. The fine, wavy brown hair on his head was matted into a cows lick over his forehead. The boy could only have been a year old. At the sight of Gabriel, his chubby face split into a beaming grin, displaying a mouth full of pearly milk teeth.

“‘Ox! ‘Ox!”

The toddler pulled himself up on the nearest bed and tottered forwards unsteadily towards where Gabriel was still watching, dumbstruck. The kid made it most of the way towards him but then he tripped over the toes of his onesie, tiny arms windmilling. Before Gabriel could even think about it his tails had whipped around to cushion the kid’s fall. He frowned down at his wayward appendages in confusion as they curled around the boy like a red-gold fluffy cloak.

Not seeming the least put off the toddler squealed happily, grabbing hold of one thick tail. Gabriel winced. Carefully, he extricated himself from the grasp of tiny fingers before transforming back into his human form in a flurry of fur.

“Okay, kiddo, no more of that.”

He bent down, pulling the boy up to his eye level by the armpits, much to his squeals of delight. Gabriel smiled back, helpless. The kid’s laughter was infectious.

There was something bothering him, though. This was definitely John Winchester’s room. There was no way it could have been anyone else’s. He had double checked. He had known about the first kid, Don or something? Dean? Dean, that was it. So how had he not known about the second son?

He shook his head. Okay, Gabriel, focus. Put down the baby. Get back to work. He had a hunter to inconvenience.

But as soon as he put the kid down, those huge eyes filled with tears and the kid let out a wail of misery that could have put a banshee to shame. Gabriel scooped the kid up again, desperately shushing as he tried to get the little brat to quiet down. He couldn’t have the neighbours trying to break in to see what the noise was.

He took a better look at the gloomy room as he walked up and down, gently bouncing the kid. The more he saw, the more the bad feeling he had about this whole situation grew. The odour to rot and mound lay heavy under the other hunter smells, as well as- now he was closer- the unmistakable odour of a filled diaper.

What kind of monster left the kid in a decrepit motel all day, no food, no water, sitting in his own filth? There was no doubt, this was neglect. And it looked as though this was hardly a one-off issue either. The room was full of things that were more than hazardous to a human toddler. There were knives on the table, for god’s sake.

This was so far past wrong. Gabriel thought for a second, looking down. The kid yawned widely, tangling chubby fingers in his jacket, and he felt his heart swell warm and solid as a glowing coal lodged in his chest. He couldn't leave the poor little tyke here.

He could call human social services. Unfortunately, he hadn't heard great things about them. The ankle biter would probably be dumped in some crappy group home somewhere. His older brother, too. And it was unlikely they’d let them stay together. Or…

There was another option.

“Okay, buddy, you’re coming with me,” Gabriel murmured quietly, hoisting the sleeping kid more securely onto his hip. Kidnapping wasn't usually his gig, but this was less of a kidnapping and more of a rescue.

Quickly, before he could change his mind, he strode over to the door. He peeked out. There was a couple unpacking their car in the lot, a cleaner two doors down. As casually as he could, Gabriel strolled across the blacktop and into the woods on the other side. Nobody even glanced his way.

.o0o.

A trip to supermarket sorted the diaper issue, and baby food, and everything else that wasn't on Gabriel's usual shopping list. It was a slightly surreal experience, stealing from the baby aisle rather than the one holding all the candy. After that, it had taken him over three hours to baby-proof his den. Why did babies feel the need to stick their fingers into plug sockets? It was like kids were trying to die or something.

The problem, he contemplated while watching the toddler happily ricochet off his furniture, was what to do about the other one. If he was going to do a good job here he should really get the both of them. Collect the whole set of baby Winchesters.

“What do you say, kiddo? Shall we rescue your brother from that hellhole?”

“Aaaaahhhhhh!” Said the kid, beaming and holding up a bouncy ball for him to inspect before running off to another room. Gabriel grinned after him.

“Just what I was thinking.”

Besides, he persuaded himself as he hacked the street cameras, the more kids he rescued now the fewer there would be trying to pin his tails to the wall in fifteen years’ time. Yeah. That was totally why he was doing this.

Well, at least the one he had now was having a good time. Gabriel could hear him banging around in the kitchen, probably making a mess with the play-dough he’d given him to keep him entertained. Getting hold of his brother, however, was going to be more difficult.

.o0o.

Gabriel went back to the motel that evening, leaving the kid tuckered out at home. With a flick of his tails he was invisible, carefully tucking himself under the windowsill to listen in on the conversation going on in the room.

“But Dad, what about Sammy?” The voice was young, high; definitely Dean. So the kid’s name was Sammy, huh?

An irate sigh, then a gruff voice said, “Dean, I've told you already. Your brother’s the one lead I have on this thing. We need to use him to draw it out.”

Gabriel's whiskers quivered with indignation. What kind of being would just give up on his kits like that? The boy had only been gone hours! Any other parent would have been combing the place for him, but apparently Winchester had stopped low enough to use his own brats as bait.

“But dad, what if he kills him?”

“He’ll be fine, but we have to use our heads about this, Dean. That's your brother’s best chance. Anyway, kitsunes don't hurt kids.”

Yeah, thought Gabriel, but what if I did? Not that he ever would, of course. The midget already had Gabriel wrapped around his little finger. But Winchester senior obviously thought it was a risk worth taking that Gabriel was definitely a kitsune and not some other type of baby-eating shapeshifter. He supposed that waiting for him to emerge was the most logical thing to do in the situation, but that was the thing. Humans weren't meant to be logical, not when their young were involved. It gave him chills to hear John talking about his own son so dispassionately.

“We’re hunting the creature my way, Dean, and that's final. It's not just Sammy’s life on the line, remember? You wouldn't want anyone else to die, would you?”

Dean muttered something else, but Gabriel had heard enough. If John Winchester cared that little about his second kid, then he couldn’t care that much about Dean either. He sat back on his hind paws and waited.

Sure enough, Dean emerged from the room not too much later, change jingling in his hand and a stressed frown on his face. Gabriel quickly manifested his human form next to the can machine.

“Psst, kid. Dean.”

Dean tensed, his skinny shoulders hunching as he turned. Gabriel saw him reaching for the back of his waistband, and really, what kind of parent have their five-year-old a knife? Not that it would do anything to Gabriel.

“How do you know my name?” Already suspicious. Good- that would serve him well in their world.

“I'm someone who wants to help.”

He saw a flash of fear on the boy’s face. He bit his lip, eyes darting nervously. “You're not gonna tell the other people about us, are you?”

Social services, Gabriel guessed. So he wasn't the first to have noticed.

Gabriel decided to drop the act. At least this would make things simpler. “No, I'm not.” He relaxed his human form a little, letting his ears grow pointed and tufted. The shadows of his tails swished behind him, stirring the air with their half-condensed shadows.

The boy’s eyes went wide, then his frown grew deeper as he pulled the knife out. “You're that kitsune dad’s been hunting.”

Gabriel whistled, holding his hands up. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Dean just glared at him harder. “Look, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you or your brother. Kitsune, remember? I don't hurt kids. But your dad isn't fit to look after a goldfish, never mind two children. But I bet you know that already, don't you? It's been you who's been looking after him, isn't it?”

The kid puffed out his skinny chest. “I can take care of Sammy!”

“I bet you can, Deano. Not arguing that. But you shouldn't have to. And what's Sammy gonna do now that you have to be at school all day, huh?”

Dean was quiet, biting his lip.

Gabriel could feel John’s life force moving around in the motel room. It was only a matter of time before he came to see why it was taking the kid so long to buy a can of pop. He had to settle this fast. “Here's the deal, Dean. You can go back to your dad, I won't stop you. But Sammy can't stay here, he's coming with me. Or, you can come with me too. What do you say?”

Gabriel could literally see the thoughts floating around the boy’s head, wisps of don’t wanna and but Sammy. Finally, he came to a decision.

“I'm coming with you.” Then he fixed Gabriel with a glare so dark that he almost felt threatened. “But if you hurt Sammy, I’m gonna gank you.” The kid would have been one hell of a terrifying hunter.

Gabriel shrugged. “Fair enough. Alright, hold tight, kid.”

He grabbed the boy by the shoulder and snapped his fingers, warping the world until they touched down in his den.

Dean immediately staggered away from him, disorientated. Sammy looked up, chocolate spread smeared over his entire body, and let out an excited shriek.

“De’!”

“Sammy!”

Dean rushed forwards to his brother, hugging him with skinny arms. Gabriel couldn't help grinning at them. Human children were adorable. Already he could feel himself becoming attached to them. It had been too long since Gabriel had had kits.

Dean didn't trust him yet of course; he hadn't expected him to. Trust had to be earned. That would come eventually. First things first, he’d have to move the entrance to his den. He couldn't have John Winchester finding them.

He was going to raise these two right.