#I should give myself a flamethrower I wonder how that would work

[my2t3rry]

I got into transformers this month and ended up drawing myself in its universe for some reason xd The damn design was so confusing and i had no idea what to pick or do so i just drew what made sense and cool. (Don't mind starscream BAHAHA I was using reference)

[hearts-hunger]

aay’han mar’eyce (bittersweet discovery): chapter three || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

chapter one || chapter two

Series Summary: In search of the Jedi you’ve been tasked to find, you and Din wrestle with the bittersweet discovery of your little one’s past and destined future. || Part Three of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Ahsoka gives you a bittersweet gift.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst | Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, pregnant reader

A/N: You got me, I’m a sucker for Din and his bride working through angst together, especially if that angst has a lot of fluff and hurt/comfort mixed in, especially if they get emotional about how much they love their baby. I hope you like it! ♡

You stumbled backwards, both arms wrapped protectively around your baby, eyes wide as you watched Din block swing after swing of the blazing white swords. Each parry sent sparks flying from his beskar; he met his attacker’s downward blow with his vambraces and held them there for a moment, the contact ringing as neither would give way. Din regained his footing and held the swords off with one arm while he activated his flamethrower, and the forest was awash in an angry red blaze. 

He threw his whipcord and bound his attacker, giving you your first real look at the Jedi you’d been tasked to find.

She’s beautiful, you thought foolishly, unable to process how quickly the fight had started. Her skin was the color of candlewick flowers, and the head-tails that draped over her shoulders were dusty blue and white. She looked slightly stunned by the whipcord that confined her, but only for a moment; she gave Din a smirk and leapt upwards. Your shocked gaze followed her as she drew the whipcord over a branch and hoisted Din up by his vambrace. He cut himself loose and drew his blaster as she drew her swords again.

“Ahsoka Tano!” he growled. She stilled at her name, studying him warily.

Din’s shoulders rose and fell with rapid breaths, and he held a half-defensive, half-placating hand out to her out to her even as he kept his blaster trained on her.

“Bo-Katan sent me,” he said, and you heard how he struggled to keep his voice calm. “We need to talk.”

They stayed frozen for a moment, each considering the other, perhaps gearing up for another round - then her gaze snagged on you, and the baby in your arms.

She turned off her swords and straightened, her posture relaxing.

“I hope it’s about him,” she said, surprise and genuine interest coloring her voice. Din turned, slowly holstering his blaster; you gave him a pleading look as your baby cooed at the two of them.

She took a few steps towards you, and you reacted in panic; whatever truce she and Din had come to, you didn’t know what her intentions were. Adrenaline and fear still coursed through your body, and you stepped back from her and held your baby closer.

She stopped when she saw your expression.

“Wait,” she said, her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt either of you.”

You looked to Din. She’d just attacked you, out of nowhere, and you couldn’t believe he was so willing to trust her.

“Din,” you said, willing him to understand your hesitation, your fear. You saw from the set of his shoulders that he wasn’t completely at ease with her, but he also hadn’t tried to stop her from coming over to you. What if she tried to take your baby? Your hands shook, and you couldn’t get your heart to stop pounding.

He closed the distance between you, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “It’s alright, cyare.”

“Alright?” you snapped. “She tried to kill you.”

Ahsoka put her hands on her hips. “In my defense, I thought you were coming to kill me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. It was probably best not to mention the Magistrate’s deal.

She nodded to your baby. “Are you... the little one’s mother?”

“Yes, I am,” you said, more confidently than you’d said anything else in this exchange. You met her gaze and held it, speaking to her not as a warrior, but as a woman and as a mother. 

“I made a vow to protect him,” you said. “And even though we both know I can’t fight you, I will gladly let myself be the last protection he has from you, if I need to.”

You made no mention of your husband, nor of his far superior skill in fighting her if the need arose. You also didn't tell her you were pregnant, which made the act of self-sacrifice a more complicated thing. None of it changed the point you were trying to get across to her: she must be very careful to earn your trust where your son was concerned.

She nodded, her expression serious and sincere. “I know you will,” she said, and there was nothing patronizing in her tone. “I promise you won’t have any reason to. Not from me.”

You saw nothing but honesty in her eyes. For the first time since she’d drawn her swords, you felt your tension and fear ease. You relaxed your hold on your baby, and he reached out to Ahsoka and babbled at her.

“Hello, little one,” she said, and the smile that eased her expression was kind and gentle. She looked over at Din.

“We should head to my camp,” she said. “We don’t want to be caught out here after dark.”

He nodded. “Lead the way.”

You and Din walked beside each other, following a few paces behind Ahsoka as she led you to her camp. His body language was a little reserved, and he kept an uncharacteristic distance between you as you walked.

“Are you angry with me?” he finally asked.

You looked up at him. “No,” you said truthfully. “I’m not angry with you. I’m... sorry if I was a little harsh, earlier. I was just scared.”

“Me too,” he said. He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to try and rush you. She and I came to an agreement when we stopped fighting, without having to talk about it. It’s a little hard to explain. You just sort of... know that you’re not enemies any more. But it was wrong of me to try and force that on you.”

He put his hand to the small of your back as the path steepened. Steadying you, lending you his strength - that came as easy as breathing to your husband, and you felt a sudden rush of gratitude and tenderness at the way he continually showed you his willingness to protect and care for you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He looked down at you. “For what?”

You shrugged. “Everything. Taking care of me. I love you.”

“Oh,” he said, and he affectionately nudged his shoulder against yours, a little bashful. “Well, you’re welcome. I love you too.”

You took his forearm in a gentle grip and raised it to examine his armor. “Did she hurt you?”

He shook his head. “No. Well - ” He rolled his left shoulder. “Dangling from the whipcord isn’t nearly as fun as it looks. But otherwise I’m fine.”

You moved your hand down to his, and he twined your fingers together.

“Your armor was sparking like crazy,” you said. You tried to shake the memory of him bracing his arms together against her death stroke. “Did you know it would hold up like that?”

He shrugged. “It’s sturdy stuff, this beskar. I haven’t met a thing yet that it couldn’t hold up against. I’ve never had to use it against laser swords, but it seemed to do the trick.”

You glanced at the sword hilts strapped to Ahsoka’s waist. “I’ve never seen weapons like those before,” you said. You wondered if she was the only person who used them, or if they were a traditional Jedi weapon. Though you had always known Din would likely teach your son how to fight, that had always been a long way off, and you wondered how young Jedi were when they started training in combat.

“Me either,” Din agreed. “They’re powerful, there’s no doubt about that. I’d be afraid to use one of them, let alone two.”

You smiled. “No you wouldn’t.” Whatever he said, you knew your husband was skilled enough to be effective with a weapon he’d never used before and could become proficient with it if he put his mind to it.

“You can’t fool me, Djarin,” you teased. “You want to try them out, don’t you?”

He chuckled. “Maybe. It would certainly be an interesting look, wouldn’t it? A Mandalorian with a laser sword?”

You gave a soft laugh. “I think you could pull it off.”

You kept a hold of him as darkness fell; the roots grew more tangled and the fallen logs more numerous as you went deeper into the mountains. For all the times Din had gotten snagged on something earlier, he was much steadier on his feet with the night vision in his HUD. You, on the other hand, felt like you were stumbling over something every other step.

“Dank farrik,” you bit out, grabbing Din’s arm to keep from falling flat on your face. No sooner had you steadied yourself than he swept you off your feet, scooping you up bridal-style and holding you close to his chest. 

“Din!” you squeaked, grabbing onto his shoulder for dear life. The baby giggled at the sudden swing upwards, and your husband gave a warm laugh.

“Relax, cyare,” he said. He gave Ahsoka a nod when she glanced back to see what the commotion was, and you thought you saw a smile on her face as she turned back.

Din kept pace behind her, seemingly no worse for wear with both his wife and baby in his arms. You relaxed and circled one arm around his neck while the other held your baby, who was absolutely delighted to be carried around by both his parents.

“You don’t have to carry me, Din,” you said, amused and affectionate. He was really quite the romantic under that tough exterior, and it had always been something you loved about him.

He hummed in agreement. “I know, but I figure it’s better than you twisting an ankle,” he teased. “And you’re probably tired, aren’t you?”

You nodded. It was very nice to be off of your feet for a moment; you’d been walking all day, and you knew Din must be just as weary of it as you were.

“My camp’s just ahead,” Ahsoka called over her shoulder. Your baby offered her a pleasant babble in response, and you smiled at the sound of Din’s chuckle.

“We sure did get a friendly one, didn’t we?” he asked.

You brushed your fingers over your baby’s ear, feeling an almost impossible amount of love for him when he smiled and cooed at you.

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed. You hoped that no matter what happened - whether he trained under Ahsoka or another Jedi, or stayed with you and Din - nothing would dim your little one’s bubbly and inquisitive personality.

As promised, you arrived at Ahsoka’s camp before long. Din set you down as she turned on her lantern, the warm golden light spilling over the ground in a small circle. You let your baby down to stretch his legs, and he toddled over to the lamp and greeted it with a curious babble.

A shiver took you by surprise, and you rubbed your hands over your arms as you realized how cool the night air was. You saw Ahsoka fasten her cloak over her shoulders and wished you’d thought to bring something; it had been warm when you left the Crest, and you didn’t know you’d be trekking through the mountains after you left the city.

“Here, cyare,” Din said from behind you. He unclasped his cloak and draped it over your shoulders. “Better?”

You snuggled into the warmth that enveloped you and gave him a grateful smile. “Much better. Thank you.”

Ahsoka perched on one of the small boulders near the lamp, watching your little one with a smile. You were unexpectedly endeared to the way she watched him with such obvious affection; though part of you wasn’t surprised, as your baby charmed everyone he met, you also hadn’t ventured to hope that she would even like him. You didn’t know how you felt about it; it would be much easier to justify not leaving him with her if she was unkind to him.

You watched as your baby clambered up onto the rock across from her; he sat still, uncharacteristic for your usually energetic and adventurous little one, and cooed up at her. He cocked his head and gestured with his little claws, something that still made you smile even if you’d seen him do a hundred times. 

“Look, Din,” you said. You nodded to your baby. “It’s almost like they’re talking.”

He watched them for a few moments; Ahsoka certainly seemed to be nodding in response to your baby’s gestures, but didn’t everyone do that to a baby? You were a little surprised when Din pulled you aside a few paces.

“What?” you asked, your voice low. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment; you put a hand on his arm.

“Talk to me,” you said. “What is it?”

He looked over at your baby, then back at you. His shoulders were tense, and you wish you knew the reason for his discomfort.

“What if they are speaking?” he asked. “What if... it’s some language only Jedi speak? What if that’s the only way he communicates?”

You frowned. “He’s only a baby, Din,” you reminded him. “He’ll learn Basic. He’s just little, that’s all.”

He gestured over to the two of them. “But what is that? It’s not Basic, and it’s not just baby talk. He’s saying something to her, and she understands it.”

You looked back over at them. You had thought there was something different, more intentional about your baby’s gestures and coos as he sat with Ahsoka, but you’d dismissed the idea as quickly as it occurred to you. With Din’s concern, though, it came back in full force - were they speaking? Could Ahsoka understand your child in a way even you couldn't?

The thought made you pale with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite identify. Grief, guilt, and sadness were among them, and something even a little like jealousy. 

“They can’t be,” you said, even as it became clear that they were. “He’s not - he can’t...”

You and Din had been interacting with your little one every day, talking to him like you would a human baby. Had he been trying to speak to you, and you just couldn’t understand him? Had you been parenting him inadequately this whole time, thinking you knew what was best for him?

Your chest tightened. How could you know what was best for him? You and Din weren’t Jedi. It was why you had been tasked with returning him to them, why you had been looking all over the galaxy for a Jedi - your baby belonged with them.

You looked over at Din, who had started to pace back and forth, agitation rolling off him in waves. You weren’t a pacer, but your discomfort needed somewhere to go; you worried the fabric of his cloak between your fingers, twisting and pulling at the well-loved cloth.

“Have we been doing this all wrong?” you asked.

He didn’t stop pacing. “What do you mean?” he asked, cautiously, as if he knew already.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling closer to tears than you wanted to be. “What if we - ” You shook your head. “What if we’re not what’s best for him, Din?”

That did stop his pacing, but he seemed no less tense. 

“We are,” he said. “Of course we are, cyare. Don’t talk like that. We’ve done the best we can.”

You felt a flash of frustration and guilt. “Isn’t that the problem?”

You thought of your other little one, the one growing inside you. You had considered yourself a decent mother - rough around the edges, perhaps, without your own mother’s help, and capable of making mistakes like everyone else. But with Din’s help, you were trying so hard to be the mother your babies needed - one who taught kindness and virtue, one who protected and cared for them above everything else. And you loved your son, like you already loved this baby you carried. You truly hadn’t considered a misstep of this magnitude, nor the idea that your son would really be better off with the Jedi.

“We can’t even speak to him, Din,” you said desperately. “How many other things are we doing wrong? How many other things am I doing wrong?”

Din read your distress easily and closed the distance between you. He put his hands on your shoulders, something he did when he really wanted you to listen to him.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, cyare,” he said. His voice was gentle and firm. “You’ve loved him as your own. You’ve taught him and protected him and loved him like he came from you. You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t know.”

Your vision blurred in a wash of tears. 

“I knew he didn’t belong with me,” you said quietly. “Deep down, I must have known - I did know, and we were always supposed to bring him to the Jedi. I was never supposed to be his mother.”

His grip on your shoulders tightened.

“No, cyare.” He sounded hurt, heartsick. He released your shoulders; his hands hovered near you, as if unsure how best to comfort you.

“How can I convince you?” he asked. “You’re a wonderful mother, cyar'ika. He belongs with you. He belongs with us. He’s supposed to train with the Jedi, but  - we’re his family. We’ll always be his family, even if we have to let him go.”

You pressed your hands to your face, hiding behind them as a few tears fell. You leaned against his chest, and he gathered you in his arms.

“He’s your baby, cyar’ika,” he said gently, holding you close. “You’re his mother. You took the adoption vow just like I did. He belongs with us.”

You remembered the day you said the adoption vow, both you and your husband repeating the words after the armorer. Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - I know your name as my child. Din had explained to you later that adopting a foundling was a very serious thing and a cause for great celebration: a parent and their foundling shared gai bal manda, name and soul. You had kissed your baby then, cradling him in your arms as Din held both of you close, calling him Djarin’ika - little Djarin.

You felt a wave of peace at the memory. He did belong with you. Whatever happened, he was your son, the little one who had made you a clan of three. Your little Djarin.

You took a deep, steadying breath and looked up at your husband.

“He belongs with us,” you said.

Din cradled your face in his hands and rested his helm against your head.

“Yes, cyare. No matter what happens, no matter how far apart we are. He’s still our son, and he’ll always belong with us.”

You rested against his touch for a few moments, both of you drawing strength and comfort from each other. You were so thankful for Din, for his kindness and honesty and unwavering love for you and your family.

“Our son is lucky to have you as his father, Din,” you said, holding his wrists in a gentle grip. “Your dad would be very proud of you.”

Din cleared his throat, the sound thick with tears. You pressed closer to him.

“Thank you, cyare,” he managed after a moment. “That means more to me than you know.”

You held him for a moment more, then pulled away just enough to press a kiss to his helmet, right over his cheek. “I love you.”

He released a shaky breath. “I love you too, cyar’ika.”

He held you for the space of a few heartbeats, seeming to collect himself; when he straightened, you could see from his body language how tired he was. The light of the huge moon shone weakly through the clouds and reflected dully off his beskar.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” you asked, looking over at Ahsoka and your baby.

Din shook his head. “I don’t know. I think that’s what we’re about to find out.”

Both of you watched as Ahsoka lifted your baby into her arms, carrying him with one hand and holding the lantern with the other. She made her way over to you, the lantern light swaying gently over the ground; you took Din’s hand in yours and tried to keep yourself from asking the hundreds of questions that ran through your mind.

She set the lantern down and placed your baby on the stone nearest Din. Your baby looked up at his father with a sweet little smile before he looked back at Ahsoka, babbling to her again as she sat across from him.

Din shifted his weight onto the other foot; his impatience, his nervousness, was easy to read.

“Is he speaking?” he asked her. “Can you... understand him?”

Ahsoka tucked her hands under her cloak, considering his question.

“In a way,” she said. She looked up at you. “Grogu and I can feel each other’s thoughts.”

You felt a wild, sudden thrill in your chest like the beating wings of a caged bird.

“Grogu?” both of you asked.

Your baby swung his gaze over to you, his little ears flopping with the movement. He cooed and looked up at you with those big, starry eyes, and you felt a deep ache in your chest.

“Yes,” Ahsoka said. You almost didn’t hear her. “That’s his name.”

Oh.

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t think anything. You squeezed Din’s hand, tightly.

“Grogu,” he said again. Gentle, wondering. Your little one looked up at him and gave him a curious coo.

You couldn’t help your beaming smile, then, nor the rush of tears that accompanied it. You knelt in front of him and extended your hand to him; he took hold of your finger and waved it happily.

“Hi, my love,” you said softly, only for him to hear. “My little Grogu.”

His ears perked up and he showed you a toothy grin, and you thought your heart might break with love for him.

“That’s right,” you said, and your voice was wobbly with emotion. You ran your thumb over his fingers. “Your mama loves you, Grogu Djarin.”

He giggled when you pressed a kiss to his head, touching your cheek with his little hand.

You felt Din’s hand on your shoulder; he knelt next to you, but kept his gaze trained on Ahsoka.

“What did he say?” he asked her. “When you were talking?”

You looked up at Ahsoka; her expression was calm and somber.

“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” she told you. “Many masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden. Someone took him from the temple.”

You sent a silent thank you to the jate’kara for keeping your little one safe, for whoever had hidden him from those who sought to do him harm.

“Then his memory becomes... dark,” Ahsoka said. “He seemed lost. Alone.”

You wondered how long he had been alone before Din found him. You knew he must have been lost before he came to you, but you didn't like to dwell on it. To know he had been raised with the Jedi and had Masters train him and care for him, only to be taken away so suddenly and left all alone, tracked by bounty hunters and hunted by the Empire - you wished you could protect him from everything that had ever hurt him.

“I’ve only known one other being like this,” Ahsoka said. “A wise Jedi master named Yoda.”

Your baby - Grogu - looked over at her at the Jedi master’s name. She smiled.

“Can he still wield the Force?” she asked.

Din cocked his head. “You mean his powers?”

As much as you wanted to know more about Grogu’s past, you let your husband carry the conversation; your little one was tired, and his head nodded as his eyes fluttered shut. You gathered him into your arms and held him close; he grabbed a fistful of your shirt and snuggled close to you.

“The Force is what gives him his powers,” she explained. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

Din considered this. “I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. Both of us have.”

His grip on your shoulder tightened, a warning and a comfort.

“Our task was to bring him to a Jedi,” he said.

Ahsoka shook her head. “The Jedi order fell a long time ago.”

“So did the Empire,” Din countered. “Yet it still hunts him. He needs your help.”

She looked at the baby in your arms for a long moment, the barest hints of sorrow and regret lining her face. However long ago the fall of the Jedi order had been, you knew she had not yet healed from the loss.

“Let him sleep,” she said gently. “I’ll test him in the morning.”

She rose, hesitating before she turned away. She looked at the three of you.

“He doesn’t feel lost or alone any more,” she said. “Not with you.”

You knew from her voice that she was telling you the truth. You searched her face, gratitude and sympathy warring as you saw the complicated mix of emotions across her expression.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely, your voice tight. “You’ve given us a great gift, Ahsoka. We’re more grateful to you than you know.”

Her smile was genuine, if shadowed by sadness. “You’re welcome.”

You watched her go, her figure enveloped by shadows as she stepped out of the light of the lantern. You wondered if she had any family, if she too had been lost and alone after the Jedi order fell.

You looked down at your baby.

“Grogu,” you said softly, not intending to wake him. It was a good name, fitting for your little one. Grogu of Clan Djarin, sharing name and soul with you and Din.

“Come on, cyare,” your husband said, his voice low so as not to wake the baby. He helped you to your feet and held you close for a moment, you and Grogu held safely in the circle of his arms.

“I can’t believe we know his name,” Din said softly. He brushed a finger over his son’s ear. “Grogu. Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, ad’ika.”

You swallowed. Your adoption vow meant that much more now that you knew his name. Din tapped his helm against the crown of your head, like a gentle kiss.

“We should try and get some rest,” he said. “I know you didn’t plan on being away from the Crest so long, though. I'm sorry.”

You shrugged. “It’ll be like the old days, right?” you said. You gave him a smile. “You forget I went with you on lots of hunts back then, and we ended up sleeping under the stars more than once.”

He put his hand around your waist and drew you close as he steered you towards a small clearing in the brush. 

“Oh no, cyare,” he said, an edge of teasing to his voice. “I haven’t forgotten those nights.”

You felt your face warm a little despite the cool night air. Back then, when the two of you were newly married and chasing the rush of bounty hunting, you rarely spent your nights under the stars just sleeping. That desire for each other had never dimmed, but becoming parents had cut down on your opportunities to be spontaneous, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had such a... risky liaison with your husband.

Din settled himself on the ground, his back propped up against a broad tree trunk. “We should do that again, sometime.”

You curled up next to him, resting against his chest and drawing his cloak around you and your baby. Din put his arms around you slowly ran his hand up and down your arm.

“Do what?” you asked. You hid a yawn behind your hand and leaned your head on his collar. “Start hunting again?”

He hummed in agreement. “Or just fly somewhere and go at each other as many times as we can before we get caught.”

You laughed. “Din,” you chided. You weren’t necessarily opposed to it, but you were less adventurous in that way than you had been back then. You preferred to make love to your husband somewhere you wouldn’t get caught.

He chuckled and drew you closer. “I’m only teasing,” he said. “But, we are going to have a new baby soon. Our chances for something like that are about to be few and far between.”

You hadn’t really though of that - bounty hunting would become more difficult than ever with two babies. Though you had enough credits saved that you didn’t need to hunt now, it was something you would have to work out eventually. But you were already overwhelmed with everything that had happened today; there was no use worrying about your future when you couldn’t do anything to change it right now.

You cuddled closer to your husband for warmth. “Sorgan,” you said.

He gave a soft grunt as he got comfortable. “What about it?”

Despite the darkness, and your back turned to him, you smirked. “You can go at me as many times as you want before we get caught, when we go back to Sorgan.”

“I thought we were going back to Sorgan to have the baby,” he said. His voice was intrigued, though, and you knew you’d piqued his interest.

You gave a half-shrug. “I guess you’ll have to take me back before then,” you said cooly. He would have taken you back regardless, if you asked and he thought it was safe; but you kind of liked the idea of getting back to your more adventurous days, even if it was just in the woods on a backwater planet rather than on a high-adrenaline bounty hunt.

He gave a soft laugh. “Alright, cyare,” he said. “You’ve still got a little shereshoy in you, hm?”

That was a Mandalorian word for living life to the fullest, having a zeal for the enjoyment of each day, no matter what it brought. You and Din had lived like that before Grogu came to be with you, in the traditional way; you still believed you lived it out now, even if it looked different than it had back then. You were a wife and a mother, and you loved it and wanted to do it for the rest of your life. It was a different kind of shereshoy, but one you liked just as much.

A little bit of adventure wouldn’t hurt, though.

“We’ll go back to Sorgan,” he promised. “Sometime before the baby’s born.”

He didn't say whether Grogu would be with you, and you didn’t ask. There’d be plenty of time for working through that with Ahsoka tomorrow, in all its confusion and sadness and worry. For right now, you were together - and that was enough for all of you.

Read chapter four!

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.3}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Lunch break came and went, and so did the second half of the conference. Robin and Snape continued doing what they had been doing for the most part of the day, quietly criticising the many misconceptions, mistakes and missing pieces of the other people's lectures, but they wouldn't be as tactless as to publicly bring it up in the discussions. All corrections and truths, as well as all snarky comments and crude jokes were kept exclusively between the two of them. The handbook, or rather the immense knowledge that was compiled in it by now, wasn't supposed to become known, especially not around here in these circles, and thus Robin had to refrain from correcting mistakes for the most part anyway. Only when she was asked for her opinion specifically – which actually had become an almost usual occurrence at this point – did she speak up at all. But of course the conference wouldn't have been the same without Kenneth Crowe, nor without his not so subtle attempts to mess with Robin once again.

"May I remark, Miss Mitchell, you haven't commented on my presentation yet, and given your inclination to comment on absolutely everything, that does surprise me now. So please enlighten us, what brilliant conclusion did you come to this time?" He asked her during the discussion to his lecture, his tone so pointedly hostile and sarcastic that a few people frowned at him in confusion. They must've been living under a rock for the last two years if they had missed this growing one-sided rivalry.

"Never give a green cat a flamethrower." Robin replied in perfect neutrality an instant later, looking him dead in the eye from all the way across the room. Admittedly, she had come prepared for such a situation this time around, and that left her feeling a lot more in control of the situation than she had in the previous years. Next to her, Snape raised an eyebrow and tried very hard not to look too amused by what he certainly guessed was coming.

Crowe however openly scoffed at Robin, rolling his eyes in a condescending manner, before crossing his arms over his chest. "Matters certainly get more ridiculous every single year; I won't even honor that statement by questioning it."

"That would be the point." Robin gave him a polite little smile, and multiple people in the room quietly snorted against better judgement. "I'm glad you agree with me on the issue. Some matters simply aren't worth to be commented on."

A few jaws dropped, Crowe's being one of them, but he stayed pointedly quiet in return and instead seemed to ignore Robin entirely from there on. Just what she had wanted. That settled the issue, and the afternoon continued on quietly until the last lecture was over, upon which the crowd assembled in the front for the usual picture to be taken. Unlike last year, Robin didn't have to convince Snape to partake, and they found their place easily just like everyone else did. After that however, Robin was asked to stand for a second photograph all by herself, which obviously was a usual procedure for the people who gave the lectures. She wasn't particularly fond of the idea, but it would've taken more time to argue herself out of it than to get it over with, and thus she simply shook her hair out of the bun it had been in and stood still.

"Smile for me, would you?" The photographer asked, and Robin tried to somewhat smile without looking stupid. But obviously he wouldn't have her not-smile. "No no no, smile with your entire face, like you actually mean it!"

"The others didn't have to smile either." She scoffed, thinking of how all the men before her had been done with the picture within seconds, and without a comment. "So why do I have to? Just because I'm female doesn't make me a dress up doll."

"I'm sure your smile is lovely, sweetheart." He reasoned and gave her a look that annoyed Robin within a second. "They say a woman's smile is the most enchanting thing about her, you know…"

"That is the best you can do? Not very creative, is it?" Snape remarked from just a little off to the side, raising an eyebrow at the photographer, absolutely unimpressed. "I would rather say it's the mind that enchants, but what would you know about that, right?"

Robin couldn't help laughing at the comment, at the sheer sass in it, and even just at the expression on Snape's face. Before she knew, her photo was taken and the grumbling photographer packed up without another word to either of them. Well, at least she was smiling like he'd wanted her to, even if she had looked behind the camera rather than into it.

What followed was the usual: endless smalltalk and conversations, being handed over from one person to the next, and having to tell people as politely as possible that her life wasn't a topic she would give them information on. But unlike last year, Snape stayed by Robin's side the entire time and thereby made the whole procedure a lot more bearable. He obviously didn't have the same reputation here as he did back at Hogwarts, but even without knowing exactly who he was, his height, scowls and generally dark appearance sufficed to keep people at a distance from both of them. For the most part at least.

"So you are the famous Miss Mitchell…" A man perhaps a little older than Snape approached them in a slow saunter in the very moment Robin's previous conversation came to an end. She had noticed how he'd kept throwing glances at her throughout the evening, but only now he actually approached her, in obvious disdain that Snape still refused to leave her side. Perhaps that's why his eyes and focus stayed exclusively on Robin. "A true honour to meet you at last."

"I'm Robin Mitchell, yes." She replied, after not finding a name tag on him anywhere. "But I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Jacob Crowe." He smiled way too brightly, bowing in an exaggerated manner. "You already know my brother Kenneth, unfortunately. But let me assure you that not everyone in our family is quite as ignorant as him."

"Nice to meet you, then." Robin made herself return a polite smile even though his forcefully charming demeanor made her rather want to scowl. At least Snape's hand was still securely resting on her back, had been from the start of these torturous conversations, and she found herself leaning into him the slightest bit more on instinct now. He surely wouldn't mind… just for the duration of this uncomfortable situation.

"I must say, your presentation was quite enchanting." Crowe gave her another look that was probably supposed to be dashing, but only did the very opposite. "A fascinating story of research and intellect, told by the most fascinating woman I have ever seen. Logically, I was clinging onto your every word."

"Yes, that much was obvious." Snape taunted with the inevitable scowl, glowering at Crowe before Robin had to come up with a reply on her own. It was the first and only time he had gotten himself involved in any of Robin's conversations this evening, and good gods he couldn't have picked a better time.

Crowe glared right back at him, making a face that was in no way inferior in its hostility to that of his brother. "And you are…?"

"Tired of hearing you speak when you clearly have nothing to say." Snape replied in a cutting voice that was filled with boredom and disdain alike, and yet he tugged Robin even closer to his side ever so gently. Always the contradiction.

Crowe glared at him for another moment, then turned back to Robin with a still somewhat irritated expression that he however tried to cover up with another smile. "You are a remarkable woman, Robin… It would be a true joy to get to know you, to hear more about your research and life. But then again, you seem to be spoken for already."

"As a matter of fact, I generally only speak for myself." Robin replied calmly, but yet in a tone that made abundantly clear what she thought of his advances. "And I am here to speak about research, not about my personal life."

"There's no harm in combining work and pleasure, my dear." He gave her another almost suggestive grin, obviously misunderstanding her previous statement. "I know for a fact that you are quite exceptional in one, and I would love to find out about the other."

"Good evening, Mister Crowe." She got out more or less politely, then turned on her heels and pulled Snape towards the doors with her. He seemed no less eager to finally leave this place, which made it more of a common hasting than either leading the other really. However before they could get far, another group of three men stepped into their way. They at least acknowledged Snape with a nod before focusing entirely on Robin.

"Miss Mitchell, I was wondering if you could tell us a bit more about the Siazella you found on accident. I have never heard of it before, which should be surprising enough at my age! How on earth did you know what you were dealing with?" The oldest in the group got right to the point, smiling in a curious and friendly manner at least, and Robin still had to suppress a sigh. She just wanted to leave… but that would have to wait. If Dumbledore had already set her up for the lecture, he surely would expect her to answer the professional questions as well. At least these men actually seemed sincerely interested in her research.

For another twenty minutes Robin elaborated on the Siazella and her knowledge of it, careful to leave out her handbook nonetheless, and once she also had answered any follow-up questions, the three men finally wished them a good night and let them be at last. Two heartbeats passed, and then Snape and Robin practically ran out the doors to avoid getting held up another time. Only once they had rushed all the way through the hallways and down the first flight of stairs, they finally slowed down a little, which left Robin both breathless and amused. Somehow, fleeing from the crime scene together had a charme in itself.

"I'm glad it's finally over…" She sighed as they walked down the elaborate staircase that –as everything in the wizarding world, it seemed– was merely lit by an astonishing number of candles. "The day was more annoying than I remembered it to be, and a whole lot more exhausting. I'm glad it's just you and me now."

"I wonder why I ever attended this pathetic event in the first place." Snape grumbled to himself in return, his scowl coloured by the barest hint of a pout. "A room full of idiots who speak nonsense and pride themselves in entirely irrelevant matters. I could have the very same in the Slytherin common room."

Robin let out a snort, which however was followed by an almost affectionate smile. "You attended because of me, I would say."

"So did everyone else, obviously." He drawled, rolling his eyes in complete disdain once more, much like the expression he had given the younger Crowe.

"Are you jealous?" She couldn't help asking in a teasing tone, quirking an eyebrow at him in amusement. Yeah, maybe teasing him when he was annoyed wasn't the best idea.

"Whyever would I be?" He scoffed immediately, a little too immediately, and definitely much too defensively.

"Because unlike back at Hogwarts, I am the one with a reputation here." She grinned in return, choosing to let go of what she had originally been insinuating in favour of a more universal interpretation, then couldn't help laughing at her own thought. "Usually you're Batman and I'm Robin. But here I'm Batman and you're Robin… which you're probably not used to being. But I can assure you that I definitely couldn't have done any of this without you, so perhaps it's not the best analogy."

He rolled his eyes again, but couldn't help the small smirk tugging on his lips. "Poor analogy indeed, especially for you. As far as I remember, you are the heroic type who saved a girl from almost certain death, twice in a row."

"And you are far braver than you give yourself credit for! I mean, you're spending a great deal of time with me, that's gotta take some bravery to go through with willingly." Robin smirked up at him, raising her eyebrows in humour as they made their way through the almost empty entrance hall in complete ignorance of everyone who was still present.

"If I was any kind of brave, I would have cursed all those men up there the second they dared to gawk at you in such a lewdly manner." He said once they were finally out in the dark street again, and his words sent an immediate shiver through Robin. But she also reminded herself that he probably, no, definitely didn't mean it in the way her mind so desperately wanted to believe.

"That wouldn't have been brave but just rash." She replied with a small smile, calm and reassuring, even though her heart was racing. "Take Crowe, for example. He was only sweet-talking me to get information on my personal life. And as much as I wanted to hex him myself, it just would've looked like I have something to hide."

"How can you be so rational about people mistreating you like that?"

"Practice." Robin shrugged with an actually humoured smile. "And I had you with me the entire time; what bad could possibly have happened to me?"

"I feel honoured by that assessment, but still, you take their crude behavior far too lightly."

"I'd rather say you take it too seriously. You said yourself that it's just a room full of idiots and creeps, so why should we waste a thought on them?" She gave him a pointed look to accompany the statement. "It's over now either way, and the only idiot you have to deal with is me."

"Yes, but that is an entirely different matter. You are my idiot."

"I am?" The grin was on her face before she could help it, and his words burned themselves into her memory to haunt her in her mind for all time to come.

"Obviously." He quirked an eyebrow at her in a way that made her grin even more, and only then he allowed himself the tiniest smirk in return. A moment passed in silence before he spoke on. "It is fairly late already, and knowing you, you will most certainly want to look into another theory tomorrow morning."

"We don't have to! I mean, if you'd prefer to… to take a break, we can continue any other time really. If you've got something else to do, I absolutely understand that. I mean it's been two weeks, and I haven't even once asked if I was keeping you from anything, and really it's been quite rude of me to just blindly assume that you would want to waste your entire holidays on me, but since we never really discussed it, you know, I just-..."

"Breathe." He cut in with a still subtly amused expression. "Tomorrow is fine."

"Good…" Robin said and let out a long breath at the same time indeed. Really, if she was exceptionally good at anything, it would have to be rambling. Or overthinking. "Tomorrow morning it is then."

"The cliff?"

"Always lovely meeting there. Eight as always?"

"Very well."

"So… time to say goodnight, I guess."

"Indeed."

And yet, they both remained standing a step apart on the dark sidewalk, looking at each other expectantly while neither wanted to be the first to go. After half a minute, Robin started smiling, then grinning, and finally straight out laughed at the situation and at how silly they both were being. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it never ceased to amuse her, nor amaze her that he seemed to be as reluctant to part ways as her.

"Coffee?" She finally asked with a soft smile.

"Yes."

… … …

Finding a place to have decent coffee after eleven at night was surprisingly easy in London, but for the sake of being a little more subtle than going to the Leaky Cauldron or any other establishment where either of them surely would be recognized, they settled for a random muggle pub that wasn't too crowded nor too loud, and where hopefully nobody would ask questions about Snape's choice of clothing. He'd been very much right in that regard, muggles didn't take too kindly to people in robes, but since Robin looked mostly normal, they merely received a few odd glances. Admittedly, they could simply have gone back to making instant coffee somewhere far away from people, but real coffee was a tempting change for once. Thus they found themselves sitting at a small table in a corner, and Robin couldn't help enjoying the anonymity of a crowded place as well as the bliss of doing something so very ordinary with Snape for once. If one looked at it that way, they had never actually spent time in public together, so this was a welcome new experience that came with very welcome tingles no less. Before long their orders arrived, and the overly cheerful blonde waitress reminded Robin of something she had almost forgotten about after everything that had happened that day.

"Oh fuck…" She groaned under her breath, sighing at the realization that her evening had just gotten a whole lot longer than anticipated.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing really." She sighed again as she returned Snape's inquiring gaze and rested her chin in her hands, elbows propped up on the table. "I just remembered that I still have something to do when I return… home tonight."

"Doesn't look like it will be a pleasant task. Chores?"

"If that's what you wanna call Cas, then sure." Robin laughed, especially when he rolled his eyes in return. "I'm supposed to help her with something, and I don't know if I can. At least not in the way she would like me to."

"You have always been exceptional at keeping me in suspense." He sighed, then took a sip of his coffee and motioned for Robin to go on already. After briefly considering it, she did.

"I said something on the train ride home, about how a well written letter can be a great way to connect with someone if you can't see them for a while. And well… she wants to write to Simon without being cheesy or boring."

"And she wants you to write it for her?" Snape quirked an eyebrow at Robin in doubt. "That would defy the entire purpose of such a letter, wouldn't you say?"

"Obviously it would, and that's why I don't know how to help her! She didn't specifically ask me to write it for her, just to help her in any way I can. Give her some inspiration, or pointers maybe… You got any idea?"

"I'm afraid I have no experience with this kind of matter. Most letters I have written throughout my life were related to my work in both content and form. Don't you have received or written something of a similar kind before?"

"Obviously not! I've only ever written to you, to be honest." Robin shrugged, stirring her coffee with a spell before remembering where she was and quickly taking the teaspoon instead. "But I'm supposed to be the knowledgeable one and help Cas out. It's my job to know better than her."

"That is what I thought about you for a certain amount of time." He mused with a not-smirk. "But I gave up at some point in your third year."

Robin chuckled, sipping her coffee as well, before setting it down with a sigh and a new determination. Without another word, she summoned a piece of paper, a pen, and Cas' book out of her backpack, then placed it on the table in front of her with a thud. "You're helping me with this. If I don't know what I'm doing and you don't either, we better be clueless together."

"I had feared you would suggest that." He sighed dramatically, giving her a teasingly annoyed glance nonetheless. "But I would be a poor excuse of a friend if I let you down in times of despair."

Smiling, Robin pushed the dreaded book closer to him and kept the paper to herself. "Here, look through that for anything useful. Cas loves this book, it's full of sappy teen romance."

"And you would know that because…?"

"She sneakily made me promise to read it, so I did. I had to."

"Of course she did…"

"Now you just sound like Dumbledore."

"Insult me and I'm gone." He drawled in bad neutrality while flipping through the pages, and Robin had to snort. Neither of them seemed to be on good terms with the headmaster today, not after he had put Robin through giving a lecture without even a notice.

"The book really is quite terrible. I got it over with in the first week of the holidays, but I barely made it out alive." She remarked as she brainstormed what she knew about letters, love, Cas and Simon, but her thoughts kept coming back to the book as her only point of reference.

"What is it even about? I cannot tell from the glimpses of bad dialogue thrown at me here."

"Oh, you know… stupid stuff." Robin replied evasively, but even to herself that answer was a poor excuse, if anything. She hadn't written it after all, nor even read it voluntarily. But secretly enjoyed it a little more than she would ever admit. "This eighteen year old girl who falls madly in love with some guy who's new at her school. Ridiculous, really… They don't even know each other all that well, but still hit it off after just a few weeks of unreasonable conflict. It's the least romantic thing ever, they don't even seem to care about each other as much as they care about themselves. They go through all those firsts together, which admittedly is quite adorable, but then they ruin it all again by being so flat and shallow and vain that you just wanna smack them in the head the entire time. If anything, that book is a test of patience."

"Certainly sounds like it, yes… The writing is poor, the plot too as it seems, and the dialogue is an abomination in itself."

"Yeah, you could say that." Robin snorted with a smile.

"Perhaps we should treat it as a negative example for the task at hand then." He suggested. "Tell me, what exactly is bad about the way this is written?"

"Well, the entire thing is just so exaggerated and blown out of proportion... It feels unnatural for people who have known each other such a short time to be quite so over the top with their emotions and declarations." Robin started, and at the same time Snape plucked the pen out of her hand and pulled the papers on the table closer to himself.

"Do go on." He said as Robin stopped speaking to frown at his doings, and then gave her a look that left no room for argument beyond his words.

"Uh, alright… as I said, it's exaggerated, and just too much. Then the author also relies way too much on the use of straight out saying 'I love you', as well as just kissing and making out, to indicate the sentiments between the characters. The emotions should rather be obvious between the lines; if you have to directly say them to be understood, you're doing it wrong. Not that saying it would be bad, I don't mean it like that, it's just… it shouldn't be said just because it needs to be. At least not when they're already in a relationship. Their love should be the driving force of everything that is said, not the direct message itself, and-..." Robin cut herself off before she could start rambling again, and focused on moving on instead. "Then, as I said earlier, they seem to not even know each other. You could switch out any of the names on the pages, and it wouldn't make a difference. They should be playing on what they know and adore about each other, even if it's not much yet. Just… lending a book to someone who loves books will be a much more meaningful gesture than getting them a bouquet of roses, for example. People really shouldn't be afraid to go for the unusual kind of gestures and gifts."

"That makes for a decent list of don'ts already, which is a point to start. So tell me, what would you like to read instead of the negatives you pointed out? You already mentioned a few ideas for improvement, but perhaps you can think of more. Start from the negatives you created, and envision their counterpart."

Robin gave him a partially annoyed, partially desperate look, but he merely quirked an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. Insufferable idiot… but his idea to make her talk on the basis of the stupid book was helping more than anything she had come up with herself. Sighing, Robin gave in. What would a teenager want to hear from their love interest? What would Cas enjoy reading if she already enjoyed the stupid book so much? Damnit… this was difficult. "I don't know… I'm not good at these things, I can't imagine what a teenager would want to read."

"If Cassandra would have wanted to write by the standards of a teenager, she would have asked one of her mutuals. But she asked you, so you might as well advise her from your own perspective."

"Fine…" Robin sighed, and hid the heat on her face behind her coffee cup. What had she enjoyed hearing from Snape, in letters or in conversation? Or rather what would she enjoy? Damnit, she should have allowed herself to dream about this more often. "I think it is of major importance how much you let someone see of yourself. Allowing them to know you better than anyone else, giving them the chance to understand you in a different way by showing them more than just the big picture. Learning about the small and random moments in someone's life just has an entirely different level of intimacy to it than learning about the big things. I mean sure, it's the big events that shape a life, but it's the small things that shape the person and give them their colour. If I had to choose, I would always choose the colour, because it is what makes a person truly who they are, and not just the sum of bad or good things that have happened to them. The sky doesn't need a shape to be beautiful either, but it's the colour that makes one fall in love with it."

For the moment that followed, they both stayed quiet. Robin sipped the remainder of her coffee, and Snape finished writing whatever he was noting down of her words and thoughts. Perhaps she shouldn't have let herself get so deep… perhaps she shouldn't have asked him for help in the first place. But then she would be sitting in her tent by herself tonight, listening to the same old records she had put on every night since taking the player, and drown in sorrows over how little she really knew about love, and about people. No, this was much better indeed. Before long, Snape pushed the piece of paper across the table towards Robin again, and she smiled when she saw the perfectly organized list of things to avoid, and things to do instead. Copying it would probably be the best idea, to send it to Cas in her own handwriting. But Robin was keeping the original for sure.

"I think that should be a decent reference for anyone to write by." He said calmly, and finished the rest of his coffee while leaning back in his chair. "Cassandra would have to make a real effort to mess it up now."

"You should never underestimate Cas' ability to mess things up… Especially the easy ones." Robin grinned at him for a moment, until she managed to tone it down to a sincere smile. "Thank you for your help with this. I think we did pretty well for two people who didn't know any better."

"You shouldn't thank me. It was you who said every single thing that is on this list; I merely wrote it down in an appropriate format."

"And you made me say them in the first place!" Robin objected, almost finding herself as amused as nervous by the fact that the statement was only too true. He was the only reason she knew what truly loving someone felt like, even if it left her no wiser about being loved in return. But she knew that he appreciated her quite a lot, at least. Who else could say that about themselves, huh? In a way, that was a status as exclusive as it could get.

"Perhaps we simply make a good team no matter how impossible the endeavour." He suggested calmly, and gave her a not-smirk that had her melting within seconds.

"We most certainly do."

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[ethanlivemere]

Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

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Chapter 3

Trespass

The true citizen knows that duty is the greatest gift.

The true citizen conserves valuable oxygen.

The true citizen cooperates with his Civil Protection team.

The true citizen’s job is the opposite of slavery.

The Consul’s brief messages echo across the pavement, each one followed by a hollow chime. It has an almost hypnotic effect, as I find myself staring up at the cluster of screens hanging over the intersection. It’s an Orwellian sight to behold: the citizens going about their day while the Consul’s watchful gaze looks down from above.

The true citizen embraces the Universal Union.

I think back to my encounter with the Vortigaunt. It had been a shock to hear English words coming from the mouth of the alien. Its voice was guttural and rough, and it continually made insect-like hissing and clicking sounds, but it spoke English nonetheless. Quite eloquently, even. Vastly different from Black Mesa, where the hisses and clicks had been the only components of their communication. But perhaps the bigger shock in seeing the Vortigaunt was not what it said, but the way it spoke to me. Like I hadn’t killed dozens of its kind in Black Mesa after seeing them slaughter my coworkers. After such hostility, I expected this Vortigaunt to charge up a bolt of green energy and attack me, and my instincts wanted me to reach for a weapon I didn’t have. The last thing I expected was for it to greet me as an ally.

“Your presence gives us hope, Freeman,” it had said. “As you saved my kin in the border world, so shall you save us again on this miserable rock. For now that the lesser master lay defeated, the greater must also fall in time.” Ah, so that’s how it is, I thought. When I killed the Nihilanth, I freed the Vortigaunts from their enslaver, and now they expected me to do the same once more. I remembered the slave camps and factories on Xen, where, for just a brief moment, they didn’t attack me – until the Nihilanth’s Controllers arrived and forced them to fight. They must have realized I was their one hope for freedom. A freedom which, ultimately, was very short-lived.

The Vortigaunt then walked to the contraption that held another one of its kind in its dark liquid. It placed its two-fingered hand against the glass and, despite its alien features, I could see sadness fall across its face. “The Vorti-cells drain power from my kin to support the Combine’s machinery. Those who enter them seldom emerge. The few who do are weakened almost to the point of collapse. Truly, it is a fate far worse than the shackles I bear.” The shackles were different from the ones worn by the Nihilanth-enslaved Vortigaunts. Instead of shining green, they were a dull gray. Their design remained very similar, though. Wrist bracelets, a collar, but also a sort of codpiece that I didn’t remember seeing on the Nihilanth’s slaves. Apparently the Combine deemed it necessary to cover the Vortigaunts’ loins – even though they housed no visible organs of any kind.

The Vortigaunt proceeded to grab a broom from against the wall and told me it had to resume its duty or suffer punishment. It seemed rather ironic, almost comedic even, that an alien race powerful enough to power factories was also being employed to sweep the streets. Recalling the instructions Jeremy had given me, I asked the Vortigaunt if he knew how I could get to the Manhack Arcade, where Barney was supposed to meet me. “Ah,” he responded pensively. “The Manhack Arcade. The hall of the unwitting executioners.” He proceeded to give me clear directions. I was to go to a place he called the Stenographer’s Chasm and then continue in a straight line. I wondered what he meant by ‘unwitting executioners’, but before I knew it, he had already said his goodbyes and disappeared around the corner.

The strange encounter had left me confused and a bit shaken, but I resolutely continued my journey and followed the Vortigaunt’s directions. I had a hard time imagining what this ‘Stenographer’s Chasm’ could be, but I could never have imagined what it turned out to be. An enormous, Combine-modified warehouse consisting of one long room that extended far into the ground, filled with rows of workers perched on stools behind desks, frantically typing on typewriter-like machines. But the stools and desks weren’t on the ground: they were mounted onto single, suspended rails that ran across the room. There were multiple levels of these rails and desks reaching all the way to the ceiling and down into the chasm. The workers had nowhere to go. My guess was that at the end of their shift or when their quota was fulfilled, the rails transported them to a place where they could safely dismount their stools. Until then, they could do nothing but work. I didn’t know what it was they were doing. What kind of paperwork could the Combine have? They didn’t seem like the type to bother with those kinds of things too much. Then again, an intergalactic empire is bound to have some unavoidable paperwork. Probably keeping track of resources and the like.

More disturbing sights awaited me, though. It all began at a building that produced a continuous sound of whirring and chugging, like a giant steam engine. Looking through the window, I saw a black and white tiled hall that was filled with enormous, diagonal pistons moving back and forth. At their base, people were working on the large engines that seemed to drive the pistons. I then realized that the engines weren’t just large, the figures knelt at their base were also small… they were children. Children, no older than twelve, were working on heavy machinery under the watch of Metrocops. And that wasn’t the only factory where children were being forced into labor. A bit further down the street was a smaller brick building that housed a large furnace. More children were stationed at a conveyor belt that lead into the furnace. They took white, ellipsoid objects from barrels and placed them onto the conveyor. They weren’t being burned in the furnace: they reemerged out of the side, attached to the ends of poles, and were transported into another machine. I had seen the white objects before on the brown-robed, flamethrower-wielding beings in the station and on posters that Jeremy had referred to as ‘Cremators’. These were Cremator heads. I tore myself away from the windows and continued my way through the industrial area. I never looked through another window again.

The factories eventually made way for a busier commercial district, which is where I find myself now. It’s the busiest place I’ve seen in this city, apart from the military parade. This must once have been a street with many successful shops, but now most of the display windows stand empty. One of the buildings still in use houses the same ration dispensers I also saw in the station. Another one showcases multiple television screens, all of which display the Combine logo.

“Can you believe it? Free TVs!” says a citizen gazing through the window.

“Don’t get too excited,” his companion replies in a cynical tone. “Those things only have one channel: the Consulcast.” He points over his shoulder at the cluster of screens overhead, where the Consul’s many faces are still naming the values of a true citizen.

But the Consulcast nor the free TVs are the reason why there is so much traffic on this street corner. In fact, I’d wager the Combine strategically placed those here so that as many citizens as possible would be exposed to the propaganda. The real eye-catcher everyone seems to be here for is across the street: the Manhack Arcade. It’s a large building that forms the corner of the street. Completely Combine-made, no recycling of old buildings. The people in the street flock towards the wide entrance on the corner, which is flanked by two Metrocops. Above it hang a number of yellow posters and banners and even more screens, all showing Combine logos and imagery.

I wonder if I should go in. Jeremy told me Barney would meet me at the Manhack Arcade, but it’s unclear if that means outside or inside. It seem risky going into a Combine facility, but it doesn’t seem like the citizens get scanned like they did at the checkpoints, and I could probably slip by the two guarding Metrocops unnoticed by hiding in the crowd.

I wait a little longer, hoping Barney will show himself. The clouds have gotten darker still, and before long a light drizzle starts pouring from the sky. Not only am I not dressed for rainy weather, I also want to avoid getting into too much contact with this water, which, judging from the greenish color of the clouds it originates from, could have all kinds of toxins or undesirable pH values. And so, when an exceptionally dense group of people approaches the entrance to the Arcade, I join them and walk past the Metrocops without either of them giving me a second glance.

Inside is a corridor that leads to the main room. Like the Stenographer’s Chasm, it’s long, tall, and extends down into the ground. Instead of rails with desks and tired workers, this room is filled with catwalks leading to strange machines. Citizens queue in front of them and when it’s their turn, they step onto a pedestal in front of the machines, grab hold of two control handles and lean forward to place their heads in some sort of virtual reality display built into the arcade.

A screen above the player allows bystanders to follow the game. A citizen near me has just started: at first, the screen shows only a grid of red lines in a black void. Then, the grid bends and reshapes itself into a three-dimensional environment that resembles a ruined building. Several humanoid shapes appear in yellow and orange tints, like heat vision, but with a clear red outline to them. The player navigates the environment, seemingly flying, and moves towards the outlined targets. The targets start moving around, trying to evade the player, but eventually he catches up to one. It’s not clear what happens, but when the player bumps into the target, the red outline disappears and a score of one hundred appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. “Ha ha, got one!” the player exclaims. Another nearby player is already at a score of eight hundred, when one of the targets suddenly rushes at him, holding up some kind of long object. The screen goes black and the words ‘GAME OVER’ appear on the screen. “Damn it!” the man shouts. “I was almost at my high score!”

Something’s not right. The way the targets move – it doesn’t look like a video game character. Much too erratic and lifelike. And from what I’ve seen of the Combine so far, I doubt they would put effort into providing ground-breaking AI technology for their panem et circenses. The Vortigaunt’s words echo through my mind: ‘the hall of the unwitting executioners’. I can put two and two together, but I don’t want to. I refuse to believe that what I fear is true. People slaughtering their own, cheering while they do it – and without ever realizing what they did. Or, at least, I deeply hope they don’t.

I don’t want to stay here any longer. Watching these innocent people enjoying the Combine’s twisted games turns my stomach. I have to find Barney. But how can I simultaneously hide from the real Metrocops and try to get Barney to see me?

As I pace through the room, I notice a Metrocop eyeing me. It’s hard to tell with the gas masks, but it seems like his gaze is following me. Is he Barney or a suspicious guard? I try to act inconspicuous and wait for a signal. Suddenly, the Metrocop turns away and walks towards a door. He interacts with the locking mechanism and it opens before him. He throws another prolonged glance in my direction before stepping through, out of sight. I wait. The door doesn’t close behind him. I cautiously make my way to the door. It leads to some sort of backstage corridor, clearly a ‘staff only’ area. I can’t see the Metrocop. I look around the Arcade one last time, but none of the remaining guards seem to notice me, so I enter the corridor. It’s cold and dark, and my footsteps are loud on the metal floor. I arrive in a small room with one of those Combine consoles. The wall is lined with a rack containing dozens of small, deactivated drones whose purpose I can’t discern. I hear the door I entered through close.

“Hey, you!” I hear from one of the neighboring corridors. A Metrocop – the one I followed in here – enters the room. “Do you have your identification?” He menacingly steps towards me. Seems it wasn’t Barney after all. Tough luck. “You are not supposed to be in here. I need to see your identification.”

Well, I seem to have gotten myself into a sticky situation. The Metrocop is trying to drive me into a corner, drawing his stun baton. “Overwatch, restricted incursion in progress in sector 8. Permission to enact civil judgement?” he says to seemingly no one. There’s a short blip and a burst of static following his question. I’m not thrilled about the prospect of ‘civil judgement’, so I decide not to wait until he gets his answer from whoever Overwatch is. I place my hands on my head, feigning surrender, while I scan the exits. The corridor back to the main Arcade hall is sealed and I can’t tell where the others lead, so I’ll have to trust my instincts.

Either the Metrocop has received his permission from Overwatch, or my eyes darting around the room have made him suspicious, because he suddenly swings his stun stick at my head. I try to duck and the blow lands against my elbow, sending a shock through my entire arm as blue sparks fly from the weapon. In response, I kick at his shin as hard as I can. He grunts and loses his balance, and I take the opportunity to dart down the nearest corridor. I hear the Metrocop’s heavy boots give chase behind me as he mumbles a status report to Overwatch. I round a corner, praying I won’t run into a dead end. I see a T junction ahead. Suddenly, I hear a deafening bang behind me, and the sound of a bullet hitting metal. Damn. He has a gun. I have to reach the junction as fast as possible. No time to look which way to go. As the echo of the gunshot fades out, I speed off into the left corridor just before another bullet plunges itself into the wall.

Suddenly, my surroundings open up into a larger room that’s two thirds Combine architecture and one third concrete rubble, remainders of whatever building was here before they installed their Arcade. I could get out through the collapsed walls and floors, but I’d be an easy shot. There’s also what looks like a Combine elevator with a bright red button inside it. I have milliseconds to make a decision. How far behind is he? Can I pull it off?

I slam my fist into the red button, rush back out of the elevator and then dive behind a half-collapsed wall. The doors close and the elevator starts to rise as I flatten myself against the concrete, bent rebar poking into my shoulder. My left arm is numb from the shock of the baton. I hear the Metrocop charging into the room. I hold my breath and pray he falls for my trick. It’s a trick as old as time. He stands still and I wait, my heartbeat ear-deafening.

“Subject is headed for top floor, secure perimeter around elevator.” I have to keep myself from sighing in relief. He isn’t gone yet. In fact, he seems to just stand still in front of the elevator. He must be waiting for the elevator to reach its destination. If he waits for the top floor units to report an empty elevator, my cover is blown.

“Copy,” he says. My functional right hand grabs hold of a loose chunk of concrete near me. I hear him walk a few steps, and then a couple of beeps. “Elevator power disengaged. Heading to your location.” With that, he walks out of the room, and I can finally breathe again. They don’t know the elevator is empty yet. They think they have me trapped in an unpowered elevator. Now to finally get out of here.

Easier said than done, as it turns out. The ruins are a concrete maze, and I constantly have to watch my step. It doesn’t help that the rain that seeps down through the broken ceilings makes everything slippery. The downpour has changed into an outright storm: the water beats down loudly on the concrete and every now and then a roaring thunderclap tears through the sky. Meanwhile, I guess the Metrocops discovered I wasn’t in the elevator after all, because I suddenly hear the cold, disembodied female voice – Overwatch, I assume – echo through the air once more: “Individual, you are charged with anti-civil activities: 63 criminal trespass, 148 resisting arrest, 243 assault on Protection Team. All local Protection units: code alert: locate, contain, prosecute.”

I spot one of the lambdas painted by the resistance group on a pillar. It leads the way down a slope of collapsed floor into a sub-street level area. Knowing the Metrocops are looking for me again, I try to speed up my pace a little while heading down – a mistake. The wet rubble gives way and I lose my footing. The world spins around me as I slide and tumble down the slope. I try to shield my head with my arms. I roll over the floor after reaching the bottom before coming to a stop.

I lie on my back as my surroundings come back into focus. I’m in some sort of underground sewer chamber: I see a ladder on the wall leading up to a manhole cover and there’s a grate in the ceiling through which light and rain pours down in a small waterfall, though the ground I lie on is thankfully dry. I do a quick damage report: my palms are chafed and I’ll undoubtedly have a few bruises, but no lasting damage. I’m lucky I didn’t hit my head on any of the protruding edges of the concrete.

I become aware of a sound, just barely audible over the storm. It sounds like a fire – no, more like a flamethrower. At the same moment, I notice the dancing orange light on the brick wall, and my nostrils are assaulted with the stench of burning flesh. I immediately jolt up. Pain shoots through my back at the sudden movement. I look around and immediately spot the source of the sound: there’s a Cremator standing on the opposite side of the room. The two lanky, leathery-skinned arms sticking out of its brown robe carry a heavy flamethrower which, I notice for the first time seeing one up close, is connected to a spherical fuel tank in the middle of its stomach with a thin tube. ‘Flamethrower’ might be an incorrect word, however. Instead of producing flames, it shoots the green particle jets I also noticed being used to clean trains in the station. It must be some sort of corrosive liquid that only affects organic matter. The source of the orange light on the walls turns out to be a burning pile of charred flesh being sprayed by the Cremator. The flesh is being set ablaze by the green particles, but not only that: where the jets hit the flesh directly, it seems to blacken and disintegrate. Despite the fact that the corpses have turned black as coal and have been turned into an amorphous, ever-shrinking pile, I can still make out just enough to see that these were once people.

The Cremator stops what it’s doing and turns its white, oval head towards me, alerted by my sudden movement. Its tiny, expressionless eyes lock onto me. I hear mechanical breathing from the Cremator’s mouth-tube as it steps closer. It tilts its head like a curious animal before it points the nozzle of its weapon towards me. I could try to run, but I doubt I could get far enough to evade the scorching cloud. I briefly wonder if I should not have moved an played dead. It probably wouldn’t have saved me from being disintegrated.

“Cremator! Stand down!” A Metrocop charges in and stands between me and the Cremator. “This prisoner is property of Civil Protection and is to be transferred to Nova Prospekt for processing.” The Cremator tilts its head again, then turns around and returns to its previous work. The Metrocop turns around to face me. I should be worried, but I’m not. Despite its distortion, I have already recognized his voice. I once again hear the click of the mask detaching and am greeted by Barney’s smug grin. I’ve never been happier to see that stupid grin.

“So Gordon, is this what you call ‘not drawing any attention to yourself’? You’ve got practically every Metrocop in the sector looking for you!” He reaches out and grabs my arm to pull me onto my feet. The numbness from the stun baton is almost gone, though it now hurts from the fall instead. As I rub my elbow, I glance at the Cremator. It seems to be minding its own business, but I don’t feel comfortable hanging around near it much longer, and I wonder if it’s a good idea for Barney to unmask himself and be so friendly with me in its presence. Barney follows my gaze and says “Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother us again. They’re not too bright, these Cremators. Mindless synths. They were made to be janitors, primarily. Destroy biological waste, contain the Xen infestation…” He looks down at the charred corpses grimly. “… clean up after the Civil Protection patrols.” He beckons me and starts walking. “The reason he was about to disintegrate you is because you are not a registered citizen or Combine unit. So to him, you would have to be either a Xenian creature or a very lively corpse. Either way, you were considered ‘unauthorized biological mass’ and had to be disposed of.”

We enter an underground utility tunnel. The sounds of the storm fade away as we follow the cables and pipelines down the dimly lit corridor. “You’re lucky I found you,” Barney remarks. “Those Immolators of theirs can give you a nasty burn. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you at the Arcade, I was held up by unforeseen complications on my shift. I had just gotten back to Dr. Kleiner’s lab when I heard the local CP units go crazy over some guy causing trouble at the Arcade.” He flashes me a smirk. I tell him what happened at the Arcade, with the Metrocop I had thought was him. “You got baited,” he replies. “Some CPs will bait citizens into breaking rules, like trespassing, just so they can enact some civil judgement.”

We march through the underground network in silence for a while before I cautiously bring up Jeremy. Barney sighs sadly and lightly shakes his head. “Yeah, I heard what happened.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly choosing his next words carefully. “Listen, Gordon… don’t worry about it, okay? I can probably pull some strings to make sure he turns out okay.” He doesn’t sound all that certain. “Either way, don’t blame yourself. Each of us knows the risk in what we’re doing. We’re all prepared to... go all the way for our cause.” I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Barney is being uncharacteristically serious and grim. This is not the same man I knew before Black Mesa. Then again, the same goes for myself.

His face lightens up again and he slips back into his usual grin when we go down a side tunnel with another lambda, at the end of which is a short staircase with a metal door. “Well Gordon, looks like we’re finally here.” He opens the door and the sound of machinery pours out. Not harsh, loud and aggressive, like the Combine factories, but light beeps and clicks over a soft hum. A familiar sound that invites me inside. The sound of science.

_____________________

Consul screens

Stenographer's Chasm

Piston hall

Cremator factory

Manhack Arcade exterior + Citadel

Manhack Arcade interior

Cremator

Underground

And for the first time, there aren't just images for reference, but also sound: here is the original Vortigaunt voice.

As always, really excited to share this new chapter of Anticitizen with you. We've finally reached Kleiner's lab, so from now the story will start picking up pace. And as always, please let me know what you think :)

[nerdbee]

Sunshine and Shadows- Chapter 1

Watching Nico talking to Annabeth and Percy, Will mentally slapped himself in the face. That conversation had gone about as smoothly as the surface of the moon. There was no chance of Nico ever willingly talking to him if he behaved like an overprotective mother hen, although part of him still wanted to wrap the son of Hades up in a blanket, burrito-style, and hand-feed him nutritious snacks.

“Solace!”

The harsh tone of Clarisse’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Quit admiring Di Angelo! I know you’d be more than happy to do that all day, so I’m reminding you now! You have an appointment after lunch to give Chuck a check-up DO NOT BE LATE OR YOU’LL BE GETTING AN APPOINTMENT WITH MY SPEAR!”

On that friendly note, the newly-elected godmother stormed over to the Athena Cabin to harass the campers who had offered to weave clothes for the new-born satyr. Gods help whoever stood in the way of her warpath. She adored Chuck and was determined to make his life as perfect as possible. 

Will nodded vaguely, before turning back to watch the son of Hades. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault that Nico was so gods damned attractive. Nico laughed at something Percy said, the action lighting up his face, making him truly look like the angel his name said he was. He gave Annabeth a high-five before heading back towards where Will was standing in front of the Apollo Cabin. 

Will noticed a blush creeping into his cheeks and quickly turned away, mortified. A moment later he felt a prod at his shoulder and looked up to see the son of Hades regarding him questioningly. 

“Will? We’d better get these 3 days over and done with then, right?”

Startled, Will let out a weird laugh that sounded like a piece of machinery made by Cabin 9, before nodding, turning round, and promptly walking into the doorframe, much to the amusement of Kayla, who was sitting inside, waxing her bowstring. Embarrassed, he quickly changed from his flip-flops into something more suitable for the infirmary before emerging again onto the porch. 

✧✧✧

Nico was waiting for him on the porch, leaning against a post, drumming his fingers against the railing. When Will approached him, he stood up and gestured for the son of Apollo to lead the way. The walk to the infirmary was short, thank the gods, and Will spent the time determinedly staring forwards. A few campers were hurrying around, carrying supplies. Will nodded a hello towards Jake Mason, who  was with a few other Hephaestus kids. The older boy didn’t have crutches any more, but preferred to use a cane when he had to walk around. Typical Cabin 9-style it had several cool additions, such as being able to extend into a fighting staff and, if Harley had anything to do with it, probably a flamethrower somewhere. The scarily muscular 8-year-old was chatting animatedly to his older brother, but he wasn’t at his usual bouncy self. Harley had worshipped Leo, and had been devastated by his loss. It didn’t help that now, closer to the start of school, all of his siblings, save for Nyssa, would be heading home or to college for a while. Will made a mental note to hang out with him more. 

The two boys reached the doors of the infirmary and Will opened one, stepping aside to let Nico in first. Once they were inside, Will made a beeline for an empty bed at the back of the infirmary.

“We save the front beds for anyone that comes in with a really severe injury”,

he explained. He gestured for Nico to sit on the bed while he fussed around, clearing some of Austin’s sheet music away from a chair before plonking himself down on it. He’d have a word later with his brother about working on his compositions in the infirmary. Glancing up, he noticed that Nico was looking rather awkward (and adorable). He kept moving his hands around, as if he weren’t quite sure what he was doing, whilst desperately avoiding eye contact with anyone. Right. Nico wasn’t a people person, and it was currently quite busy in the surrounding area. Will stood up to draw the blue curtain around their area, before turning to address the son of Hades. 

“I know this is primarily for you to get some rest, but I think I should give you a general check just to make sure nothing other than your irresponsible use of underworldy powers is a problem.”

Nico scowled at him but didn’t argue, instead opting for a curt nod. Will continued,

“I’ll start by looking under that bandage on your arm”

He reached out to Nico’s arm 

“Is this ok?”,

he asked. Nico paused slightly, before nodding again. As gently as he could, Will raised Nico’s arm and began to slowly unwind the bandage, revealing several nasty-looking red claw-marks gouged into his skin.

“Werewolf claws”,

mumbled Nico. Will frowned.

“These are definitely infected. I’ll check for a fever and get some ambrosia for you. I reckon these will leave scars.”

He hesitated, then leaned in and brushed Nico’s raven-black hair from his forehead. It felt soft and, to his dismay, Will found his cheeks turning pink again. Holding the back of his hand against Nico’s pale forehead, he noticed how warm the son of Hades was.

“Nico, you’re burning up!”,

he announced before rummaging around in a nearby cupboard for some ambrosia and anything else he could use to treat the wound. He noticed a rather sad-looking Aloe Vera plant. Didn’t his siblings know that Aloe Vera should be placed in direct sunlight and not at the back of supply cupboards? He placed the poor plant in the windowsill, before taking a washcloth and some antibacterial ointment from the cupboard, along with the promised ambrosia. After thoroughly washing his hands, he handed the ambrosia to Nico, who began to delicately take small bites out of it, while he wet the cloth under the tap and started to carefully clean the wound. Nico winced slightly when the cloth made contact with the infected area, but had a slightly dopey faraway expression whilst he ate the ambrosia. Will wondered what Nico tasted when he consumed ambrosia. When Will ate it he tasted the sweet lemonade his grandma made whenever he returned home to visit. He tended to remain at camp most of the time, due to his mum always travelling for work and his insistence not to attend any sort of boarding school, but every now and again, he would fly over with a satyr protector to stay at his grandparent’s house with her. When he left, he would spend most of his time wondering when, or if, he’d ever get to go back. Especially after having 2 big wars in the space of a few years. Of course, his problems were all miniscule compared to what Nico had had to go through. He’d had to face the death of his sister, being alone with only a ghost for company, knowing about Camp Jupiter and not being able to tell anyone, being kidnapped and locked in a jar by crazy giants, and then on top of all of that had to deal with everyone at camp avoiding him, because they thought that he wasn’t normal. It all made Will so angry at the world, for allowing some people so many good things, when Nico could probably count the number of times he’d been happy since coming to camp on one hand, and still have fingers left over to spare.

Nico cleared his throat, and Will realised to his embarrassment, that he was staring again. He sheepishly placed the cloth in the sink, before lightly spreading a thin layer of the antibacterial ointment over the claw marks and murmuring a prayer to his father, while wondering if it would even work, seeing as Apollo was probably at that moment in time in the middle of a long lecture from his father, Zeus, concerning Octavian, the evil stuffed-toy destroyer (Percy had treated the whole camp to a story at the campfire of how his panda pillow pet had been brutally slaughtered). 

He then covered the wound with a gauze pad, finishing by gently wrapping a length of bandage around, to prevent further infection. 

He turned round to clean up while giving Nico strict instructions,

“I’ll talk to Chiron and explain that you are under no circumstances to partake in any sort of training exercises. You should spend most of your time here, getting some much needed sleep, however I think it’s a good idea for you to attend 1 meal a day at the pavilion, which will also allow you to have some healthy time outdoors. The rest of the time I will provide food for you.”

Even though he was facing away, he could imagine the son of Hades glaring daggers at him. 

“I can get food myself. There’s a McDonalds near enough that the shadow travel shouldn’t hurt me.”

Will sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair and turning around to face his stubborn patient.

“Really? What part of ‘you can’t even summon a wishbone without melting into a puddle of darkness’ do you not get? I’m not even going to start on the ridiculous lack of proper nutrients in a McDonalds meal. What can they offer you that camp doesn’t?”

Nico raised his chin in a show of defiance

“Does Camp Half-Blood offer snazzy boxes? No I thought not. It also has an over-bearing mamma bear watching my every move. When I agreed to this, I expected gentle rest, not a prison sentence.”

He dramatically flopped back on the bed, his head on the pillow. 

“I’m not even tired! Not one bit!”

Fixing his glare at the ceiling he mumbled

“This is a nice pillow. Soft and squishy.”

On that note, he fell asleep, still muttering about how fully awake he was. Amused, Will shook his head and stepped out of the curtained area into the main area of the infirmary to see Cecil and Austin chuckling in his direction. Austin was in the process of checking Cecil’s strained calf muscle and met Will’s eyes with an amused look.

“Why William my dear brother, I do believe that you have met your match. He’s just as headstrong as you are!”

Disgruntled, the senior counsellor of the Apollo cabin went to the storage closet to reorganise the medical supplies.

[amariemelody]

Y’know, I am absolutely loving all of the Mandomera and the MandoxMeraxCara fics I keep finding!! 

But I do wonder if there are more fics that show Din and Winta bonding? I mean, Winta is Omera’s whole life just as Baby Yoda is Din’s whole life. Winta seems to be a wonderfully open-hearted, curious, adventurous child and Din is certainly a good man who, while introverted, seems to have quiet patience and easy affection for children. 

I have headcanons: 

One of Winta’s toys breaks when Omera’s super busy with chores, so she shyly holds her toy up to Din, who’s nearly done with his work. Din easily puts down what he’s doing and fixes it up in minutes flat, enjoying putting his carpentry/mechanic skills to work on something other than his ship and weapons for once. Winta thanks him by inviting him to play on the floor with her and Baby Yoda. Din accepts. 

Beskar is shiny and Winta is a child who can still be attracted to shiny things! So sometimes Winta likes to make hilarious faces at herself in the shiny reflection of Din’s back plate and Din pretends not to notice as he goes about cleaning his Amben rifle. But he has a secret smile on his face the whole time. 

Besides shiny, kids also like buttons!! And Din’ vambraces are covered in them! Din has a fail-safe that deactivates the buttons should he ever be unconscious or otherwise compromised in any way. He turns the fail-safe on and extends his forearms to let Winta press and play to her heart’s content. He answers all her questions with the watered-down half truths. His whistling birds are very rare because they’re little fireworks he uses to signal to other Mando’s, who are just as rare; his flamethrower has only ever been used to make a campfire, soldering repairs on the Razor Crest,  and/or for cooking. 

Winta has a gist of what a bounty hunter is, and Din will tell her and the other children very watered-down stories of his adventures hunting, just as he watered down what his vambrace weapons do. All the kids get the sense that “bounty hunting” means just bringing people together, and that’s how he and Baby Yoda got together. 

Omera gets frantic when she can’t find Winta or Baby Yoda for lunch. Din, always cool under pressure, turns on his heat vision (?) in his helmet, goes out a little farther past where they usually play, and finds them near a more-secluded pond fast, fast asleep. Din takes off his cape, wraps them both up in it, and nestles them on a shoulder each to carry them back. If either of them stir, he goes“Shh” gently in their ear. 

Winta hugged the crap out of both him and Cara after they helped the village drive off the raiders. Cara had an easier time than he did hugging her back. But awkward as Din was, he didn’t let go until Winta did. ‘Nuff said. 

Winta strikes me as a kid that’ll climb a tree to grab pretty flowers. One day she scrapes her knee bad while trying to climb. Din finds her and is just as gentle and soothing as her mother while he treats her knee with bacta spray and cleans it. He then gives her a ride on his shoulders to the higher parts of the tree so she can get her flowers after all. When she grabs them, she puts one of them in the side of Din’s helmet. He walks around like that all day.

The day before Din left with Baby Yoda, Winta gave him just as big a hug as she did Baby Yoda. Din quietly reassured her that they would miss her and her whole village, too. And just as when Winta hugged him after getting rid of the raiders, Din didn’t let go until she did. 

...Welp. I gave myself Feelz. 

[razieltwelve]

Discussion (Final Rose)

Lightning looked over at Amethyst. The other woman was a year younger than her, and she lived a few doors down with her daughter, Beryl, and her dog, Herbie. Beryl was good friends with Diana, and the pair were currently in the backyard looking for cicada shells with Strangles and Herbie. Normally, Amethyst was a cheerful woman, but the expression on her face today was anything but cheerful.

“Beryl awakened her Aura yesterday. She was chasing after Herbie when she tripped over. I saw the flash, Lightning. I might not have much Aura myself, but I know what I saw.”

“She’s only seven,” Lightning mused. 

It was rare for children that young to awaken their Aura naturally. The ones that did often became powerful huntsmen and huntresses. She wondered if Beryl’s friendship with Diana might have had something to do with it. It was well known that long-term exposure to large amounts of Aura tended to lead to earlier Aura awakening, and Diana already had more Aura than most huntsmen and huntresses.

“I...” Amethyst took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned her father to you before, have I?”

Lightning shook her head. “I’ll admit I’ve been a bit curious, but I assumed you had your reasons.” Life, after all, had a way of making things complicated.

“I think it’s because of him,” Amethyst said. “My husband... he was a huntsman, an A Tier huntsman. He... he...” Amethyst struggled to force the words out. “He and his team were wiped out on a mission about a year after Beryl was born.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Lightning could say.

“He was all I had,” Amethyst said quietly. “I was an orphan, and I’ve never been good at making friends. But he... he didn’t care that I was awkward around other people or that I wasn’t famous or rich. He loved me just the way I was, and we were so happy.” She bit back a sob. “I didn’t even get his body back. They ended up bombing the entire area after he and the other huntsmen and huntresses were killed.”

That reminded Lightning of something. “The mission your husband was on... was it in the Blighted Valley?”

The Blighted Valley was an area people usually avoided. No one exactly why, but things there didn’t grow right, and technology stopped working properly. If she recalled correctly, Vale had sent in several teams to investigate after detecting unusual energy sources in and around the valley. The teams had been wiped out by a hive of unknown Grimm.

Vale had responded by asking Vanille to bombard the area with a barrage of bunker-busting missiles capable of breaching the hive’s exterior before unleashing a second wave of heavy ordnance to finish the job. It was a testament to the durability of the Grimm that the followup teams had actually recovered several specimens that were intact enough to autopsy. Team STRQ had then led a campaign to ensure that none of the Grimm had survived.

“Yes,” Amethyst said. “That was the mission he was on. They wouldn’t tell me much about what happened. It was all classified. I’ve been wondering and wondering if there was something he could have done or if...”

Lightning shook her head. “It wasn’t his fault, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know what happened there, and although I can’t give you the details, I can say that what happened was beyond his control.” 

“Thank you.” Amethyst sniffled. “I’m just... I’m scared. Beryl is all I have left. If something happens to her... but... I know how it is. If she’s like her father, she’ll want to become a huntress. She’ll want to help people, and maybe one day she’ll go on a mission just like he did and...”

Lightning wanted to tell her that everything would be fine, but she couldn’t. There was a reason huntsmen and huntresses earned so much money. It was extremely dangerous work. “If that’s the case, then the best thing you can do is make sure that she gets the best training possible.” Lightning sighed. “There are no guarantees for huntsmen and huntresses, but good training and a good team will go a long, long way to helping her survive and even thrive as a huntress.”

“Can you help me?” Amethyst asked. “I don’t know the first thing about hunting, and you’re so famous...” She bit her lip. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I’m sure you have a lot of things to worry about already...”

“It’s fine,” Lightning said. “If Beryl does want to be a huntress, I’ll do what I can to help. Besides, I’m sure Diana will be more than happy to help as well.”

Amethyst nodded sombrely. “I... that helps a lot. I just... I hope she’ll be okay.”

X    X     X

Beryl ducked behind a boulder and winced as sparks flew off the rock. Damn, that Grimm was accurate with the quills it could shoot out of its back. Not far away, her teammates were crouching behind boulders of their own. “Is everybody still in one piece?”

Jade made a face and clutched at her side. “I mean... yeah... I’m still in one piece for now, but if that thing hits me again, I probably won’t be.”

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a training mission?” Granite rumbled. The boy had somehow found himself behind the smallest boulder, which was beyond awkward considering his tall, broad frame. “Because I remember being told this was a training mission.”

“We’re at Beacon,” Basalt countered. “Their version of a training mission is substantially more difficult than most academy’s.”

“Just sit tight,” Beryl ordered. “We're not the only team out here. Help should be here soon.”

She peeked around the corner and tossed a grenade. She was glad she’d packed a few extra. They might not have the range of her spear, but there was nothing quite like an incendiary grenade to buy a bit of room. The grenade hit the monstrous Grimm square on the face and detonated, spewing ultra-high temperature gel everywhere. The Grimm reeled back, but she doubted they’d be lucky enough for it to die.

The Grimm’s cries of agony were answered by howls of fury from the lesser Grimm that accompanied it. These lesser Grimm bounded forward, bones gleaming in the firelight.

“Pick them off,” Beryl ordered. “We can’t let them dislodge us. We’re dead if that big one catches us on open ground.”

Jade brought her sniper rifle around and picked off a trio of the lesser Grimm with three head shots. Basalt’s Semblance flared, and several columns of rock lanced upward, impaling more of the smaller creatures. He’d tried his Semblance against the massive Grimm, but it had simply shrugged off the attacks before nearly impaling him with some of its quills.

“Good work,” Beryl shouted. Her spear turned into a flamethrower, and she used an aerosolised combination of fuel and fire Dust to unleash a cloud of fire at their attackers. “Keep it up.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Granite rush out from behind his boulder. The huge broadsword he wielded made short work of the Grimm that had managed to get closer, and he hurried to get back behind his boulder as the towering Grimm strode forward again.

A barrage of quills, each as long as a forearm, clattered into their boulders. Beryl could feel hers beginning to give away. In a way they were lucky. This giant Grimm was clearly best suited for wiping out huge numbers of lightly armoured troops, like militia or light infantry. Its weaponry was somewhat less good at breaking through heavily armoured positions, like boulders.

“Any second now,” Beryl said, glancing at her scroll. “Backup should be here any second now -” There was a moment of extreme dislocation before she suddenly found herself dozens of yards away with her team. “What... the...?”

“Hey!” Rikku landed beside her and grinned. “It looks like you guys were in a tough spot.”

Ah, that explained it. Rikku must have used her Semblance to switch all of them out with random rocks and other objects to get them to safety. “Where’s the rest of your team?”

“Over there.” Rikku pointed.

Beryl turned to look. Anna and Yuffie were both hacking and slashing at the massive Grimm. What should have been a death sentence to face in close combat was made bearable by Yuffie’s intangibility, which Anna appeared to be ‘borrowing’ for the time being. Seeing that their attacks weren't doing nearly enough damage to the heavily armoured Grimm, they began to plant what looked like adhesive explosives on the Grimm’s body.

“Those’ll do the job,” Rikku said, her Semblance flaring once again. Yuffie and Anna appeared beside them as a pair of small boulders vanished and reappeared next to the Grimm. “And if they don’t, there’s always Plan B.”

“And what’s Plan B?” Granite asked before the explosives detonated. The blast threatened to knock all of them off their feet, and Beryl had to shield her eyes. Those weren’t normal explosives. They must have been something Diana had thrown together, maybe bunker busters. She knew for a fact that the other girl carried some around at all times, and Beryl normally made sure to grab some whenever she went on a mission. She hadn’t this time because this was supposed to be a relatively easy training mission. It wasn’t a mistake she’d make again.

The explosion cleared to show the Grimm somehow still alive although it was badly wounded with large holes blown through its bony armour and two of its limbs barely attached to its body. It roared in pain and rage, but its roar did not go unanswered.

“She’s Plan B.”

Diana descended from the sky like a meteor. Beryl winced. Her friend must be really pissed off. She wasn’t even going to try fighting the Grimm in her human form, which was normally something she enjoyed - something about getting practice in against powerful opponents. Instead, she’d already transformed, and she looked ready to rip her opponent to shreds.

“Yeah,” Rikku said. “When Diana heard your distress call, she was in the middle of dealing with a bunch of Grimm over to the west, so she sent us ahead. She would have come herself, but you weren’t the only teams in trouble. It turns out a lot of the Grimm have been hiding, waiting for a chance to spring an ambush. She figured we could get you guys out of harm’s way while she cleaned up before heading here.”

“I don’t suppose we could borrow her for our next mission?” Jade asked. “Because that would be really great.”

Beryl grinned. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll ask her.” She turned to the rest of her teammates. “Good work out there, today. I know we’re not the ones killing that thing, but I think we did well to survive long enough for help to come and to kill off so many of the others.”

Yuffie nodded. “You sure did.” She waved her hand around. “I hit that thing as hard as I could with my shuriken, and I all I got was a sore hand. Heck, we hit it with enough bunker busters to bring down a city block, and it’s still alive.”

“Well... not anymore,” Anna pointed out as Diana tore the Grimm’s head off. “But, yeah, you guys did great.” She sagged. “It’s been a tough mission, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.”

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

Beacon caters to a range of different levels of ability. Admittedly, it is most famous for its EX and S Tier students, but the majority of students are going to become A or B Tier huntsmen and huntresses. It’s a simple numbers game. There just aren’t that many people on the level of people like Pyrrha. 

As an aside, Amethyst’s position is sadly not an uncommon one. Relatively few huntsmen and huntresses have the opportunity to retire after a full career. Most either retire after injury or are killed in the field. One of the pivotal changes that leads to Remnant’s eventual triumph over the Grimm is medical care improving enough that more and more huntsmen and huntresses survive and even return to duty due to improved health care and rehabilitation. Vale, like all of the major kingdoms, offers a stipend for the spouses of huntsmen or huntresses killed in the line of duty or from complications related to their profession.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as two audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems and Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out.

[daquanfromthetrap]

Sebastian x Reader(Ch. 2)

You walked in silence alongside Sebastian as the two of you made your way to the gardens. He spoke of the design of the mansion, the architecture, and the decor; but you paid his words no mind. You were hell-bent on figuring out what it is about this butler that intrigued you. Just as the two of you had made it outside, you were surprised by a rather loud disturbance further into the gardens.

*BOOM!* You and Sebastian stumbled a bit as the ground shook. You looked over at him in confusion as he held out his hands to steady you.

Sebastian squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh of irritation before excusing himself. “Do excuse me, my lady. It seems that there is a... problem, I must see to at this instance. I will rejoin you once all is well, Madame.”

You paused a bit, watching after him as he hurriedly made his way in the direction of the commotion. Well, I have nothing else to do at this dreadful party. You laughed to yourself as you began in the same direction that Sebastian had so hastily walked off in.

Walking deeper into the gardens, you could hear a nasally, high-pitched voice. “Oh we are sorry, Sebastian, sir. Yes we are!”

You heard another voice. “We was only trying to trim the trees, Sebastian. You know, staying out of sight like you said we should.”

“I was just tryna trim them a bit faster.” A third voice mutters.

You continued walking until you came upon a rather puzzling site; Sebastian with three other servants, surrounding a fallen tree that was partially burnt. The servants were covered in what seemed like soot, one of them holding a flamethrower.

“Are you lot alright?” you asked, stifling a laugh at the scene that laid before you.

“My lady! Please forgive us for the disturbance. We, of Phantomhive manor, strive for perfection in order to maintain the estate in pristine and orderly condition. Such are the orders of our master. Our deepest apologies for the disarray. ” Sebastian bows, clearing his throat and throwing a dangerous look towards the other three servants.

The three of them follow suit in Sebastian’s apology as they clumsily take their own bows. “Ah yes, milady we are sorry!!!”

They have a tremendous amount of respect for him... mixed with a bit of fear. You took note, watching the interaction between the butler and these other servants.

“My lady, if you would just follow me this way please. It is far too dangerous for a young woman such as yourself to be near such a ghastly site. I would be happy to escort you to another area of the grounds that would be more suitable for you.”

I have a feeling he’s not talking about the tree.You giggled. “It’s quite alright, Sebastian. Really it is. The tree has already fallen.”  You glanced over at the burnt tree then back at the group of servants before you. “And who might you three be?”

“Pleased to meet you, milady. The name’s Baldroy. I’m the cook of the Phantomhive household.”

“Hardly.” Sebastian mutters under his breath, loud enough for the rest of us to hear.

Before Baldroy could say anything else, you quickly replied, “Ah, so it was you who made the exquisite spread we had for the ball tonight. I commend you on your cooking skills, chef.”

“She said, ‘chef’!” Baldroy gushed as he practically melted into a puddle of tears from his own excitement.

You turned to the servant next to him; the maid. “And what is your name?”

“My name’s Mey-Rin, milady. Yes it is.” she answered clumsily.

“Mey-Rin. What a pretty name.” You smiled at her, causing a deep blush to appear on her cheeks. “That’s a foreign name, yes? Chinese?” You asked, to which she nodded in reply. You reached out to touch her hair. “Such beautiful hair you have. You must tell me your secret.” You whispered your last words, giving her a playful wink before moving on to the last servant.

“I-I’m Finnian, milady. But everybody just calls me Finny. I make sure the grounds of the estate are in tip-top shape for the master”, the young boy said shyly.

“So you’re the one responsible for the beauty that surrounds us right now, is it? I’m excited to see what else you’ve done with the grounds. I’m sure it gets better than this.” You look around you before looking back at the young boy, taking your handkerchief and wiping the soot off his cheek. He gasps, staring back at you in awe, finding it hard to reply to you coherently.

Sebastian just stands back, watching you intently. Interesting, he thought to himself as he noticed the effect you have on others; or rather the effect you have on humans. Although, it could very well just be these simpletons, he thought again, staring at the three servants with disdain. Weak. You show a human a fragment of kindness, and they’ll be eating out of your hand. Pathetic.

You felt Sebastian’s eyes bore into the side of your skull, watching your exchange with these servants. Trying to get a read on me, eh? You then spoke up, “My goodness, it seems I’ve lost track of the time. I should be heading back to the ball or my father will go mad searching for me.” You nodded to the servants, “Pleased to meet the three of you. I wish you luck on your tree trimming.”

“Thank you, milady”, they answered simultaneously.

You then turned to Sebastian, “If it’s not too much trouble, Sebastian, may you accompany me on the way back to the manor. I’m afraid I might get lost if I go by myself.”

“Why, it would be my pleasure, madame.”

After parting with the others, the two of you quietly began your walk back to the manor until Sebastian finally broke the silence. “It seems that the Phantomhive servants are quite enamored of you, milady.”

“Oh? And does that include you as well, Sebastian?” You questioned, raising a brow at him.

“Well I must admit, Madame, you are rather intriguing.” He answered you, saying the last word in a sultry tone.

He’s trying to test me; but little does he know, I like to play this game too. You smiled to yourself, steadily watching the ground you walked on. “And I can say the same for you as well as your master.” You replied calmly, blatantly ignoring the tone in his previous words. “No doubt, my father and your master will need to discuss some things once we get to the manor.”

Hmph. This might be a bit harder than I thought. I’d usually have her practically begging me to eat out of my palms by now. Ah well, I do love a challenge. Sebastian thought to himself.  “Ah yes. The Queen’s Spider and Watchdog have much that need to be discussed.” He paused a bit before continuing, “and where might that leave you, milady?” He asked slyly with a small grin.

“Whatever do you mean, Sebastian?” You let his name playfully roll off your tongue before gently placing your gloved hand on his forearm. 

Another strange sensation emitted from the contact between you and Sebastian. This time, you both jumped away from each other, not knowing what to do. You just silently stared at each other in bewilderment, each of you not knowing how to react or what to say. 

What the hell is this? I’ve never experience such a strange interaction. You were trying to organize all the thoughts going through your head while trying to regain your composure. 

Sebastian stood opposite of you, looking just as puzzled. Who... or what, is she? What kind of creature is capable of causing such a reaction from myself? 

The two of you stood there in silence for a bit longer before you cleared your throat, attempting to take control of the situation. “Come now, Sebastian, I suspect my father and your master will be wondering where we are right about now.”

He stared back at you in a daze; he then straightened himself and obliged to your request as he began walking ahead of you. You continued the rest of the walk in complete silence. Although neither of you dared to say a word to each other, the air was thick with tension. It may have made anyone else feel incredibly uncomfortable but the two of you were consumed by your own thoughts. Both of you only looked up occasionally; eyeing the other suspiciously. 

She doesn’t smell like a human. She’s not a divine being either. She also doesn’t appear to be a threat to myself or the young master but her presence does seem to strike up a rather interesting reaction within myself. In fact, she too was taken back by surprise when we made contact. Sebastian pondered, trying to make an assessment of what it was about you that could cause such a spontaneous response from him.

You were doing some thinking of your own, until the two of you were finally near the manor. It was evident that the party was coming to an end as you saw many guests calling upon their carriages to depart. You and Sebastian were able to locate your father and Lord Phantomhive fairly quickly. Upon your arrival, you were warmly greeted by your father. “Ah, there you are, Darling! I was beginning to wonder where it was you managed to slip off to.”

“I was only admiring the grounds of your lovely estate, Lord Phantomhive. Sebastian was kind enough to accompany me.” You stated, slightly turning away from Sebastian but still keeping your eye on him.

“The Phantomhive household is honored to have you grace our grounds, milady.” Lord Phantomhive smiled. “Now that you are both here, I believe there are some forms of business that we all must discuss.” 

The four of us made our way to Lord Phantomhive’s study for a more private conversation. Before we even sat down, Sebastian was already wheeling an assortment of fresh pastries and freshly brewed tea. He poured the tea for his master, your father and you, occasionally stealing glances at you. You eyed him warily before tuning into the conversation between your father and Lord Phantomhive. 

“It seems that we have received instructions from The Queen.” Lord Phantomhive states to your father. “I admit this is a bit unusual for her to ask us to work so closely together like this, seeing that the Spider usually begins his work after I have finished mine.”

“Yes, my lord. But according to our research, there has been a case not unlike this one in the past.” He then turned to you, “Darling, if you would be so kind as to inform the young lord of this past matter.”

You nodded to you father, handing Sebastian the files you have compiled about the case, being careful not to touch his hands. As he placed the documents on his master’s desk, you began, “It is a rare occurrence when the Queen’s Watchdog and The Spider are ordered to work together. Their work goes hand in hand to fulfill their duties to The Queen, yet, they seldom cross paths during a job. Notably, these are the cases that require the most attention, seeing that they have an alarmingly increasing mortality rate. It seems that Her Majesty has become rather upset by the amount of mysterious deaths and disappearances happening in London recently. The victims have all been families of three. The mother and father are found dead; their eyes completely burned out and with no trace of the child.” 

“No trace of the child?”, Lord Phantomhive inquired, looking through the file.

“Yes my lord. The parents are found dead and the children go missing. They have yet to be found; dead or alive.” You paused for a bit to sip your tea before continuing, “Apparently, this is not the first time this has happened. There was a case many years ago in which families of three were found in the same manner. The parents with their eyes burnt out of their sockets and the child gone missing. According to previous accounts of the murders, it was thought that the murderer watched the families for weeks, stalking his prey before the final blow. This all came to an abrupt end before the killer was even caught. Six couples were found dead. Their children were never recovered.”

“I see.” The young lord replied, slowly sipping on his tea.

“Her Majesty has entrusted us with the task of dealing with this problem, discreetly. She instructs that we find the culprit and retrieve the children, preferably unharmed.” Your father adds.

As your father and Lord Phantomhive continue to converse about how to deal with this particular problem, you take a moment to glance at Sebastian as he stood by his master behind his desk. His eyes were trained on the papers his master was given as he intently listens in to the conversation. Your brow furrows while you sit there, studying the butler that stood beside his master. Since he was so enwrapped in the case that lay before him and his master, you took this as an opportunity to take a different approach to finding out just who Sebastian was. If I can just see him through a different set of eyes, maybe I’ll know. Although you were usually able to sense things without any extra help, you knew that seeing things through the eyes of your mother would allow you to see far more than with your human eyes. You closed your eyes for a moment before clandestinely reopening them, hiding the now glowing, purple-red tint of your eyes. Then everything became apparent to you. You observed the dark shadow encasing Lord Phantomhive that was being emitted from Sebastian; tight dark threads connecting them to each other. 

A demon! Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you now can clearly see why Sebastian’s presence was so intriguing to you. And his master. You looked over at the young boy by his side. You quickly reverted your eyes back to their usual (Y/E/C) shade and took another glance at Lord Phantomhive with knowing eyes before tuning back into the conversation. 

“...I believe I have a plan my Lord Phantomhive, if you don’t mind”, at these words that your father spoke, you all turned your undivided attention towards him. He cleared his throat, “All the victims were families of three, yes? The parents and one child?”

“Yes father”, you answered, waiting for your father to finish presenting his idea.

“It’s simple really. We must coax our culprit into coming out by using bait. From where I’m sitting, I see a couple and a child.” 

“WHAT?!”, the rest of you yelped in surprise, all looking at one another.

Your father sipped his tea calmly before resuming, “We can only get so far with questioning and snooping. I’m sure you’re quite familiar with using yourself as bait in this line of work, my lord. Besides, time is of the essence, we’ll be sure to catch our suspect much faster by luring him out. I assure you, my daughter is quite capable; as is your butler. You will be very well protected should there be any problems, my lord.” Your father finishes, setting his tea cup back on the table.

The three of you take a moment to consider the proposal. “I’d have to agree with this idea. It is pretty efficient, my lord.” Sebastian states, rubbing his chin. 

Lord Phantomhive lets out a sigh, “Ah, very well. We will begin preparations as soon as possible. I hope you are up for this mission, my lady.” He says, looking at you.

You nodded, “If you’ll have me, my lord.” 

Your father spoke up again, “Alright so that settles it then. We will find out all we can about the killings and use you three as bait so that we may catch the murderer. Sebastian and (Y/N) will act as a loving young couple looking for a new home with their child which will be played by you, my lord.”

After a few more minutes of discussion, your father decided it was time to take leave. You were seen out by the young lord and his servants. Upon arriving outside, you let out a sigh, considering the amount of work ahead of you all. Lord Phantomhive and Sebastian followed you and your father to your carriage. After waving your goodbyes to the rest of the Phantomhive household, you then turned to the earl and his butler. The young lord gave your father a firm handshake before turning to bid you farewell. 

Sebastian first assisted your father and Adira into the carriage. You eyed him knowingly as he held out his hand, watching you through his lashes. You took his hand, trying hard to ignore what each of you were feeling and gave his hand a quick squeeze before taking a seat next to Adira. Sebastian’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden pressure, but this was quickly covered up with a sly smile. Interesting reaction. You noted to yourself. 

“We look forward to working with you my Lord.” Your father tipped his hat to the young earl, bidding his last farewells. 

Ciel and Sebastian watched as your carriage drove away. “I look forward to working with you too, Lord Herbert.” Ciel says to himself. He then turns his attention to Sebastian, “What is it with you and that girl anyway? I notice your initial reaction to her.” The young master begins to make his way back into the manor. “And what did he mean by saying she was very ‘capable’?”

“I’m keen on finding out.” Sebastian says more to himself than his master, still watching the carriage shrinking off into the distance.

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

Author’s note:

Hope you guys liked it!! Don’t worry, there’s definitely more to come! If you guys have any requests or questions, feel free to message me!! In the future we will delve deeper into the reader’s origins so don’t fret!! Let me know what you guys think!! :) <3

[bearpillowmonster]

Resident Evil 2 Remake Review

NON SPOILER

I've bought Resi 4 on Steam, after the first level of playing it, I realized that it wasn't for me, all the enemies looked the same and it looked repetitive, zombies kept spawning and there was no way to get rid of them all, I ran out of ammo, it was a mess. I knew that the genre did that, I know that that’s the point, but I didn’t like it. Plus, I couldn't even really get the gunplay to work right. I heard that it was at its best on the Gamecube but I haven't given it another shot since then. However I saw that Resi2 got a demo, so I played it when it released and I kind of liked it, I was sold on the game and asked for it for Christmas (or maybe even my birthday, so yeah it’s been a long time but I was busy with other games) Now, the RE3 remake is already out...wow, time to play RE2 then, huh? So, you can consider this my "first" RE game.

Right out of the gate, visuals are stunning, almost needless to say and the level of accuracy is immense. I mean I didn't expect there to be a gas station at the beginning but it even had the lighters and beef jerky towards the front and stuff, they really went all out. 

I can't imagine seeing this game when the original came out with PS1 graphics, it's ambitious, this is clearly the way it belongs. I thought a bug flew on screen but then I realized it was in-game, it's immersive, I don't normally read all the little tidbits and notes and stuff but it was generally interesting to read on the lore along with the VHS tapes and get some clues as to what to do next. I tried to play through it as if it were 1998 so I didn't look much up, I usually tried to do it myself with a few small exceptions. I felt accomplished by the end of each session like "Wow, I did that. I'm smart." It's rewarding. Now I played through each campaign so both Leon and Claire (starting with Leon) Claire on the other hand I was more lenient with, I looked up a decent amount because I was already in the station doing the same puzzles as Leon. It makes me wonder how they got the same items story-wise though, I mean we see Leon leaving her notes but you can't blow up the same wall twice in reality, that's nitpicking the game a little bit though. I will say that I felt like it was a wild goose chase when I did look it up because every thing I looked up was giving me different information "The portable safe is in this room." "No it's in this room." "This is the combination for the unicorn statue" "No it isn't, this is." Because it varies when you're playing on standard vs hardcore and whether it's your first or second run. So, I got my punishments for looking it up I guess.

But with that said, I know some of these types of older games have a tendency to make it really confusing and difficult without a guide so I was kind of worried about not knowing what to do or where to go. While I will say I had had to look a few things up, it became cut and dry once I figured out the pattern, most of the things I looked up were things I was going to do anyway but wanted to make sure before I somehow unleashed a hoard of zombies that I certainly didn't want. Same goes for story too, I knew close to nothing about it. But you basically just have to make it to the next area, think of it as that Chowder episode where he loses his hat and Chestnut has it so he has to go around doing odd jobs one by one in order to progress. The overall goal is to get out of the police station and kind of just find a way to survive but you have to focus on the smaller goals / getting to the next room. I looked pretty thoroughly through everything and managed to find everything I needed without even trying or knowing what it was for half the time like "Well this should come in handy later." *puts it in storage chest*  Speaking of, I like how each chest is like an Ender Chest and is interchangeable as if it was the same one chest in every location, that makes things much easier rather than some hardcore game of "where did I put my keys?" that I'm not into. But you learn to find your destination a lot easier than I thought. That was always something I hated about Resident Evil games while watching them, that there was a lot of backtracking but actually playing the game hits differently, it's not what I expected, it's actually kind of fun, like I mentioned saying "I know where that is!"

Maybe it's just the setting of a police station that did that for me or maybe seeing speedrunners doing it with the old games and paying no mind made me scared or maybe the fixed camera angle of the old games (so that each side of the room had the clip as if it were just a picture) along with the idea that the originals are dated rather than PS4 but regardless, it's just surprisingly not annoying like I thought.

Games can easily stress me out but I actually found myself cruising and feeling good about it despite all these zombies...then I met Mr. X. He chases you EVERYWHERE throughout the game. Thing of nightmares. I will probably hear footsteps in my sleep now. I knew he was coming but I didn't know his presence wasn't always scripted, it's just a game of cat and mouse...and he's the cat! It gets me paranoid because I'll stop and hear footsteps then stand still for a good 5 minutes and he's still tromping around. I walk down a hall. BOOM! Crashes through the wall, making ME screech. There's no way to get rid of him and it kind of ruins the atmosphere to be honest, I know it's trying to be scary but it's more annoying than scary because every time I move I'm like "Ok stop" and I'll stand around for a minute, checking the map, to check the fastest route to where I need to go, just to make sure and then continue... only to turn the next corner and then repeat. I couldn't even move comfortably anymore, it's space invading. The tension is high because he can come into the main hall which I liked to use to save but alas, I had to memorize where all the other save points were or check the map again.

So, you get to play as Claire, which I like, but with Leon's story it's kind of just like "Well I'm going to do my own thing and if she survives, she survives." I understand each step is essential to progressing and getting closer but for all he knows, she's just out in the rain, waiting for him to unlock the door. And I also know that she said that she can handle herself (before Leon had to point out the zombie behind her! lmao) and he has survival on the forefront of his mind too but still. They flirt every time they're on screen together but the thing is that I love it, I ship it, it's cheesy but I don't care, that’s half of what I’m even here for.

As for the rest of the story, you're telling me that they made not just one movie but a SERIES of movies and it wasn't this?! This is great, this is a master-craft in its work. I'm not a big fan of zombie movies, I'm sure there's one out there that I like but I can't think of any off the top of my head but this? This is it! (Jennifer Lawrence would make a good Claire tbh) Let alone the horror genre in general, I'm not even frightened all that easily, I just think a lot of the plots and decisions are stupid in horror, this goes against all that. Speaking of spooky, I know making the screen brightness balanced is normal for games but I don't think it's mattered more than here, brighten that baby up because sometimes it's pitch black, immersive but still hard to see.

Boss fights are something I didn't think a whole lot about until I actually got to it. Doing the first boss fight with G was really memorable for me because I could cower away all I wanted in that gridded pit of a machine room and just launch grenades at him but it wasn't until the bosses in the sewer that I really started to like it. First was that Crash Bandicoot type running sequence, then we had G-2. I had actually ran out of ammo at that point, I used it all on the sewage monsters (I didn't get the flamethrower, I didn't know how, as I said, I did this more or less blind) so I just kept running, and clicked X every time the option came up, hoping to pick up something good. All I got was a combat knife and a flash grenade, then I started messing with the buttons on the control panel, in hopes of cheesing it and just going to the next section but then I realized what I was actually doing. I was using those buttons to move a crate and using that crate to slam G into a pit. I love the classic boss style, I haven't played a boss like that in a long time. One where it doesn't matter how much ammo you have, but just using the environment to your advantage without it explicitly telling you (except the death screen giving you hints). That was until the later boss fights, you basically just keep unloading your belt until they die, kinda lame but whatever.

This actually made me rethink the genre and also about giving one of the other games a shot (PLEASE REMAKE CODE VERONICA, I BEG!) it might be right time, right place (PS4 with modern graphics and modern gunplay) that made me actually interested. The “true ending” is unlocked by playing through one of the two’s campaign and then playing through the other, which is basically the same game but with different cutscenes and context (some new areas too) so it’s definitely worth it, you could even just speedrun the second run if you’d like, you even unlock a secret boss and for those who have already seen the true ending, know that I liked it based off of what I said earlier, no spoilers.

[tlirswriting]

Past Mistakes, part 7

Read part 1 here: https://bookfroggity.tumblr.com/post/187152824147/past-mistakes

///

"I must admit, Number Five, in all the time that I've been here, I've never met anyone quite like you."

Five was enjoying soaking up The Handler's praise again as they walked into Headquarters, although he knew he had to stay focused on his real plan.

"Hazel and Cha-Cha, for example, are talented, certainly," She continued. "But they can't see the big picture."

Five knew what she was trying to do; he was a tool to her, her favorite though he may be.

"Your spunk, your..." She put an arm over his shoulders, briefly pulling him closer before letting go of him again. "Enterprising spirit, well, it reminds me a great deal of myself, if I may be so vainglorious. If things work out for you here, you could potentially make a fine successor, Five."

They stepped inside. The interior of the building was exactly as it was the last time Five saw it, though it had been a while, as temporal assassins spend the majority of their time hopping from one shitty motel to the next.

"I would like to discuss the logistics of my family's safety at your earliest convenience," He spat out, having replayed the sentence in his mind until given a chance to speak. "As well as this body replacement."

"Such chutzpah," The Handler said. "It's refreshing, I'll admit. Slow down, Five, all in good time. In fact, now that you've finally agreed to work with us, we've got all the time in the world."

Five couldn't allow himself to slow down.

She showed him around the case managers' floor as she explained what exactly he would be doing, as if he wasn't familiar with the process of field-report-goes-in-assassin-goes-out, and the scale of The Commission dawned on him as he looked at the rows and rows of people tapping away on typewriters.

"Any queries, so far?" She asked.

"Yeah, who was the case manager handling me?"

"Ah." She brushed her hand against his cheek, drawing it along his jaw and patting the other side, grinning. "You mean the apocalypse."

...

Five found himself faced with a woman roughly in her thirties with medium brown skin and an unnatural-feeling smile on her face, likely the result of some experiment but Five could only guess if it was psychological or if they manually altered her muscle control.

"Five, meet Dot," The Handler announced.

She gave him a quiet "hi" and a wave.

"Dot is responsible for all apocalypse matters. In fact, it was Dot here who first flagged your appearance in 2019."

"No hard feelings," Dot said.

There were a few hard feelings.

"Well, you certainly put us through the ringer," The Handler continued. "Outsmarting two of our so-called 'best' temporal assassins."

The Handler put a hand on Five's shoulder and raised her voice, turning her head to direct it towards the rest of the room. "If that doesn't spell leadership material..."

The click and clack of typewriters stopped.

"I just don't know," She chuckled, quieter again before the typing started back up. "I suspect you like a challenge, Five. Which is why I've given you a particularly complex first case."

She handed him a red folder, which he opened and flipped through the contents of as she kept talking. It was mostly words, interjected with images of 1930s airships.

"Too bad Joseph Späh decided against sabotaging the fuel tank. It would've been so much easier. Anyhoo, if you have any questions..." She pointed towards the door. "I'll be right behind you."

The Handler left, and Five sat at his new desk to begin his work.

...

Five found these people he already hated on principle were -- as people tended to be -- more chatty than he would have liked. Dot sat directly behind him, and seemed determined to make small talk, much to his displeasure.

"A few of us are having lunch," She kept going. "And I was wondering if--"

Five cleared his throat as he put a message in its tube.

"You're doing something," She finished, answering her own question.

He stood and walked down the hall to the chutes.

"I'm afraid that's not procedure," The Handler threatened, walking up behind him just as he was about to send his tube, gingerly taking it from him as he turned to face her.

In the room adjacent, there was an old woman sitting in an office.

"Five, meet Gloria," Said The Handler.

The woman in question stood and smiled, walking towards them.

"Gloria is perhaps the single most vital cog in our machine."

It was almost as if she was just asking for Five to get ideas.

"Gloria, this is Number Five."

"Look at you," Gloria chuckled. "Deadly little thing. So happy we decided to close the contract on your life."

The Handler turned her attention back to Five. "I'm afraid your reputation precedes you, and it looks like you're building on it here."

She took his message out of its tube and read it.

"Ooh. Karl Weber. Now tell me, why unfortunate Karl?" She asked, handing it over to Gloria.

"Karl Weber," Five explained. "Is the butcher at the shop where Captain Ernst A. Lehmann acquires his weekly roast. So, if Karl dies, his butcher shop is passed on to his son Otto, who never washes his hands, which is disgusting."

"So he's the one that gives the Captain his roast," The Handler followed.

"And that gives him food poisoning."

"Which makes him late for work, which delays the takeoff."

"And to make up for lost time, the Hindenburg flies through a weather front of high electrical charge and humidity."

"And the static electricity inside the aircraft makes it a virtual tinderbox. Tiny engine sparks..."

"And just like that, we have..." Five raised a closed hand before bringing it back down with a quiet whistle, mimicking the sound of an explosion as he opened his fingers.

Gloria and The Handler were delighted.

...

Five was walked back to his shared office, being praised all the way, until a buzzer went off and The Handler left along with his coworkers for lunch.

He took Dot's file from her desk, slid it under his vest, and hid in the bathroom to read it.

A familiar clicking of heels entered the stall next to him.

"Shit," He muttered. It was nice that The Commission's bathrooms were unisex -- Five was all for inclusivity -- but at times like these he would have liked to not be bothered by a certain someone.

"So, how's your first day going?" The Handler asked.

"Couldn't be better," Five lied, closing the file.

"Glad to hear it."

The Handler coughed at an increasing volume as an unreasonably lengthy stream of piss made its presence known.

Can I get some quiet for three minutes, Five mentally pleaded.

"I burnt my rugae," She explained, although Five hadn't asked. "Ever burn your rugae?"

Five wasn't sure if he even had a rugae.

"Rugae," She repeated as Five put the file back in its hiding place. "The ridges on the hard palate that help pass food to the esophagus. Anyway, I'm on a liquid diet for two days, hence the marathon of urination. One faulty cog, and nothing works as it should."

Five knew she knew what she was doing; only an idiot would leave Five unsupervised after he already turned on them once.

"You know, we value integrity at the office above all else." The torrent ceased. "Trust is essential, and that trust is... Earned, over time. But in the event of a breach, The Commission will act swiftly, and without mercy. An efficiency I'm sure you above all people can appreciate, Number Five."

The toilet flushed, and the click of her heels trailed over to the sink.

"I'm feeling peckish," The Handler said. "Have you had your lunch yet?"

"Not yet," Five answered.

"Great, how would you like to lunch with me in my office?" She offered, walking back towards his stall. "You can eat solid foods, and I can live vicariously..." She peeked her eyes over the top of the door. "Through you."

"Sounds great."

...

"And that's how Phil determined the archduke just had to go," The Handler said, finishing off a story Five wasn't paying much attention to after finishing off her smoothie. "Care for a dessert?"

"I had a bad Twinkie in the apocalypse once," Five explained. "It kinda put me off desserts."

"Please... Indulge me."

Five took a candy from the dish on The Handler's desk. She lit a cigarette and sat back as he chewed on it, the consistency like taffy.

"What's that taste like to you?" She asked.

Five thought for a moment. It tasted like chocolate milkshakes and thermonuclear bombs. "The 1950s?" He guessed.

"Precisely right." The Handler leaned forward again. "Our clever metaphysics division concocted a way to perfectly distill an entire decade into a single candy."

Five kept chewing, trying to figure out how he was getting hints of dadaism and how he knew to recognize the flavor.

"This one's modelled after the Fudge Mutt, America's favorite in 1955."

Five got to anti-communist propaganda and his puzzlement only grew. "Remarkable," He admitted.

"You'll be happy to know it's the very division that's building your new body. Oh, that reminds me, I have something for you."

The Handler pressed a button on the intercom. "Carla?" She asked.

"Yes?" A tinny voice that could be safely assumed to belong to Carla responded.

"Would you bring the box in, please?"

"Certainly."

A woman that could be safely assumed to be Carla entered the room carrying a box, setting it down on the desk in front of Five. He stood to examine it as she walked back out of the room and Handler walked around to be next to him, sitting on the edge of her desk.

"Go ahead, open it," She insisted.

Five looked inside to find neatly folded black fabric, upon closer examination rather similar to the suit he wore the last time he worked here.

"Clothes make a man, Five. Won't it be nice when you can actually wear it?" The Handler asked. "Very soon, I assure you. They're perfecting your body as we speak."

Five paused. He knew what she was doing. "Thank you," He played along. "It's a very kind gift."

He closed the box and turned around to notice a shelf with interesting contents.

"Is that a Chinese flamethrower?" He asked.

"Good eye," The Handler answered. He walked closer to inspect the instrument.

"War, such a fascinating concept," She continued, moving closer. "A temporary salve for a permanent human flaw. Course, it's a bit easier to see from thirty-thousand feet."

She chuckled at her own observation.

"These are just a few of the things I've collected in my travels," She explained, gesturing towards the shelf. She picked up a grenade and gave it a playful toss before catching it. "M26 grenades from the Vietnam war," She said, setting it back down in its place. "And this... The most noteworthy, perhaps." She picked up a gun. "My Walthor pistol."

She held it out in front of her, as if aiming at an invisible target. "The very one Hitler used to kill himself."

The Handler turned her attention back to Five, and leaned close, her voice low. "We're not supposed to keep these kinds of things, but... He wasn't gonna use it anymore." She grinned and looked back to the gun, sticking her cigarette in her mouth to hold it with both hands, straightening her arms out.

"Feel," She said. "How perfectly balanced that is."

She handed it to Five. It was, in fact, a very well balanced pistol, but he had other things on his mind.

"I had some thoughts I wanted to run by you," He started. "Some suggestions to improve Commission protocol."

"Mm, shaking things up already." The back of her hand made its way across Five's cheek and lightly tapped the end of his nose. "I admire that."

Part of Five would have liked it if she stopped touching his face, but on the other hand, this was the most human skin he'd felt in a long time. There was something soothing about her mannerisms, something...

Don't let your guard down, he reminded himself. Focus.

"Go on," She said, walking back to her desk. "Do tell."

"Gloria." Five walked over and put his hands on the desk. "The tube operator. Wouldn't it be simpler if case managers were to send their own messages?"

"I appreciate the thought. I really do. But everyone loves Gloria, I-- I would never hear the end of it," The Handler chuckled. "She's been with the Commission family for years, and she's--" She held her thumb and index finger ever so slightly apart. "--This close to making pension."

A knock at the door.

"Sorry to interrupt, ma'am, a moment alone?" Dot asked, stepping inside, a file clutched to her chest.

"Of course." The Handler turned her attention to Five. "Duty calls. We'll continue this discussion later, Five."

"Sure." He gestured to the bowl of candies. "May I?"

"Please."

He grabbed a handful, stuffed them in his pockets, and left.

...

Five had noticed Dot get up from her desk, and followed her, silent. Of the skills he had acquired during his time as an assassin, effectively stalking his prey was one he found most useful.

"Gloria," He overheard. "The Handler knows that Five is up to something."

He jumped, faithful the quiet woosh wouldn't betray his position, and even if it did his position would not be in the same place afterwards.

"Get this to Hazel and Cha-Cha immediately."

"Um..."

"Immediately."

"Okay, yeah. Uh... Who are they?"

Gloria found herself with a sharp hit to the side of her neck after Dot walked away, promptly collapsing where she stood. Five took the tube in her hand and opened it. The message read "Reassignment: protect Harold Jenkins."

Well, that won't do, Five thought as he typed out a couple more favorable requests.

His favorite tactic was always to make his enemies take each other out for him.

"You know that's not how we do things here," The Handler said, seeing him send them through the chutes.

He casually leaned on his elbow, looking her dead in the eyes. He knew she would be here, she watched him like a hawk; everything was running smoothly for him so far.

"Where's Gloria?" She asked.

"I don't know, couldn't find her anywhere." He shrugged as she audibly groaned on the floor. The Handler slowly turned to the source of the sound before returning her gaze to the cause of it.

"You're a great disappointment to me," She smiled. "You can't change what's to come, Five."

He looked at her with murder in his eyes.

"I truly find it so odd how you can't shed this fantasy. You're a first-rate pragmatist, you belong here with us."

"I don't belong anywhere, thanks to you," He growled, or at least did his best given his 13 year old vocal cords. "You made me a killer!"

"You were always a killer." She unzipped the side of her dress and pulled out a gun. "I just pointed you in a direction."

And with that, Five ran. It was a shame he didn't get that body they promised, but he was sure he could figure something out himself, and if he couldn't, well, physical youth wasn't the end of the world. Unless, in a strange turn of events, it somehow was, but there were more plausible theories Five wanted to test first.

"Security breach in tube room," The alarm blared, over and over as Five dodged The Handler's bullets. "Security to tube room."

"What's the rush, Five?" She asked, looking around for where he would pop up next. "We're just getting started."

He appeared in front of her.

"Is this really how you want the last line of your report to read?" She asked.

"When I'm done, I'm just done, I guess," He panted, smirking up at her.

"You can't keep this up, Five. We both know that even you have a limit."

I'm not that tired yet, he thought.

"I saved you from a lifetime of being alone, you owe me."

Five almost laughed as her gun clicked; his intention wasn't to keep dodging forever, he was just wasting her bullets, and succeeded in doing so.

"I do owe a debt," Five admitted, jumping behind her. "But it's not to you."

He pulled the pin from a grenade and rolled it towards her before getting out of the way.

She was right about his limit, of course; he could feel the electricity crackle more weakly, the pulses of energy taking more effort to summon with each jump. He was familiar with the hollow feeling in his stomach, the weakness of his legs.

He was running out of juice.

That's why he decided to take a briefcase with him.

///

Part 8 will be linked here when it's up

[scriptatur]

This chapter is a fill for T4 on my TS bingo, which is a picture of Tony standing in front of the cave in IM1 with the mark I armor :) 

Edit: This is my first bingo!! Yay ^^ 

Chapter 1 or read on AO3

Chapter 17

They sat down on the couch, because all Tony needed to begin with was to just look at it and maybe have FRIDAY scan it. Bucky seemed pretty relaxed, sitting down next to him and offering the arm as if it was normal. As if Tony didn’t know for a fact that not even Steve was really allowed to touch it most days. As if- Well, on some days, Tony was still working on believing he deserved good things, or love, or trust. It seemed like tonight might be going in that direction. He shrugged it off. He could freak out later, but right now Bucky needed him to focus.

“Okay, what can you tell me about it?” Tony asked. Bucky shrugged.

“Not much. It’s Wakandan tech, so probably at least in parts vibranium, but other than that…”

“How does it feel? Usually?”

“Pretty natural. But then again, so did the other one, at least when it was well maintained. Sometimes they didn’t- well, sometimes they didn’t care. Then it hurt, felt wrong. That one doesn’t. It- it’s not quite my arm, like it’s too new or something, but it also doesn’t feel like it doesn’t belong there, like- I don’t know if that makes sense,” Bucky said, looking confused but Tony was already nodding.

“Yeah no, that does make sense, at least to me. I-“ He hesitated. Fuck it. “I don’t know how much you know, about me, about how I became Iron Man, but I used to have an arc reactor, right here.” He tapped his chest. “It has been gone for years by now, and sometimes I still wake up feeling like there’s something missing. It didn’t belong there, but that didn’t change the fact that it was part of me, that it- it belonged tome, I guess.”

“Yes, that. That’s what it feels like.” Bucky was smiling, almost relieved. Tony nodded, smiled back.

They spent the next couple of minutes in comfortable silence, while Tony tried to familiarize himself with the arm. It was very interesting, of course, and brilliant, as was everything that Shuri made.

“I didn’t know,” Bucky said eventually, voice quiet.

“Didn’t know what?” Tony asked.

“About the arc reactor. It- it powers your suit, doesn’t it?” Tony nodded.

“Yeah. Well, it did, nowadays the suit is all nanotech. But yeah, it used to. Powered my heart as well, for a while.” He snorted. “That’s not actually true. But it did keep the shrapnel in my chest from moving into my heart, so it did keep me alive.” It took Tony a moment to realize, that Bucky was completely frozen, staring at him in shock. “Hey, what is it, are you okay?”

“We destroyed it. We- Steve he-“ Oh crap.

“Oh hey, no. No, that wasn’t the one implanted in my chest, I took it out years before that happened. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!”

Tony had never heard Bucky raise his voice, and he didn’t now, not really. But he did sound very determined, as if it was important for Tony to understand, as if this was something that he would not change his mind about.

“Bucky…”

“No. Tony, no. I understand that you forgive us, and I’m incredibly thankful for that, if not for myself then for Steve. But… please don’t say it was fine. It was wrong, it should not have happened and if Steve knew that, if he knew what the arc reactor meant-“ He broke off. His right hand was shaking, while the left one was still lying in Tony’s lap, soft and pliant.

“I blasted your arm off,” he said, almost helplessly. “I-“

“In self-defense. You didn’t try to kill me, because if you would have, I’d be dead. Steve- Steve didn’t hold back.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment, until Bucky tried to pull his left hand back and Tony instinctively held on to it. Then he realized what he was doing and let go, giving Bucky the chance to move away. He didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I didn’t mean to bring back these memories, I just-“ Tony shook his head.

“I fought my way out of that cave, years and years ago. The arc reactor saved my life, but after that- They wanted me to build weapons and I refused. I don’t- I build the first armor instead. Clunky thing, could hardly even move or see where I was going. Didn’t have many weapons either. Flamethrowers, mainly. I remember, standing in the entrance of that cave, looking outside, seeing all those weapons that I had made and that had found their way into the hands of terrorists. I burned them all, everything. Then I flew away. I-“ He paused, took a deep breath. Bucky was staring at him with wonder in his eyes, as it this whole thing was something to admire. Tony sighed. “The arc reactor isn’t what makes me Iron Man. Yes, Steve destroying it sucked, but he didn’t- he didn’t destroy Iron Man, not really. He could never have done that. And he didn’t kill me. He could have, but he didn’t.”

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Look in Her Eyes- Chapter 16

***While on a case, Dean and Sam meet a beautiful woman, Ava. She makes a large impression on the brothers, and ends up convincing them to take her on the road with them. It isn’t long before the shared experience, car rides, motel rooms, and risky cases pushes Ava and Dean together in an unlikely story of love, family, fate, and friendship. ***

Chapter Sixteen, Flesh 

Ava

Dean kissed me. It happened in slow motion, but time caught up all at once. His hand was on my tattoo, and his lips were on mine. "You taste like vodka." I commented against his mouth.

"You taste like wine."

"We all make mistakes." I giggled and deepened the kiss, putting my arms around his neck. He took both hands, shrugging me out of my flannel and pulling my dress over my head.

I kicked out of my ankle boots and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off of him. I ran my hands along his chest. I missed this.

He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I ran my tongue along his bottom lip and he groaned. I could feel his muscles tightening around me.

He laid me down on the bed and hovered over me. He ran his fingers through my hair, and along the side of my face. "It's been hell without you." He admitted.

"It has been for me too."

"I'm still afraid." He admitted. "I don't want to lose you, not for real."

"What did Sam say to you?" I asked kissing his chin.

"What do you mean?"

"What did he say to you to scare you into breaking it off with me?"

Dean rolled over onto his back, and pulled me against him. "He asked me what our future looked like. What I wanted."

I propped myself up so I could look down at him. "What do you want? What was your answer?"

"I don't really think about the future. I don't think it's smart for hunters to..." he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Everyone who does this dies young. I can't want a future. I can't want this."

"You can want it." I told him. "If that's how you feel."

"When I picture myself happy, it's always with you. I don't know what that means. We don't really have a chance for that but..."

"Shh." I said pressing my lips to his. "When I picture myself happy, it's with you too." I looked down at him. "The rest doesn't matter. No matter what happens we are together. We don't need some pretend life to be happy. I'm happy here with you. With whatever life we will have."

"I don't deserve you." He said, cradling my face in his hands.

"You don't." I leaned down to kiss him. "But you get me anyway."

He smiled up at me. "Damnit I owe Sam a thank you."

"Don't forget Bobby. I think he supports us now." I grinned.

"Everybody is team Ava."

"I like the sound of that." I said kissing him again.

"Let's not talk anymore."

"Deal."

Dean

I opened an eye when I heard the motel room door slowly cream open. Sam was walking in slowly. "Hey." I said softly, putting a finger to my lips.

"Is that?" He asked as a grin grew on his face. "Yes!" He whispered.

I smiled to myself. I understood the enthusiasm. She was asleep next to me on her stomach. I grabbed my boxers and slid them on, sneaking out of bed so I could talk to Sam.

"She said she's been on three hunts on her own. Bobby has been giving her leads."

Sam nodded. "I saw her tattoo, too. She's for real."

"I wanted more for her."

"Maybe you can have more with her." Sam shrugged.

"Are you boys gossiping over there?" Ava asked, pulling the blanket to her bare chest.

"Hey." I said with a big grin.

"What's wrong with you two? You look seriously creepy."

I looked at Sam. He had an ear to ear grin like I did. We are hopeless.

"Just happy to see you." Sam grinned wider.

"Okay, calm down Pennywise. Give us a minute?" I said, putting my hand up.

Sam nodded and exited the motel room.

"Hey." I said walking back to her. "Sorry for the invasion."

"It's okay." She yawned. "He seems happy."

"Got the gang back together. I think he is happy."

"What about the older Winchester?"

"He's happy too." I said, leaning in to kiss her.

"Not to break up this beautiful moment," Sam said poking his head into the room. His hand was covering his eyes.

"Then don't." I groaned.

"But we do have a Wendigo to catch."

Ava perked up at this. "Really? Give us ten minutes."

Sam nodded and closed the door again.

"Look at you." I laughed. "You're a regular monster junkie."

"So are you." She teased. "Admit it, you totally want to kill a Wendigo today."

I smirked a bit. "You get me."

—————

We went to the camp ground and sat up. We were the perfect candidates to be Wendigo chow, but we were ready for them when they showed up.

"You know I can't cut your hair for you, Sam."

"Who invited her back again?" Sam grumbled batting her hands out of his hair.

"You did." Ava and I said at once.

"You missed me." Ava sang, putting her fingers back in his hair.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Sam grinned.

It was nice to see them together. Sam was laughing and nursing a beer, and Ava was braiding his hair into little braids. I was enough, not anymore. He didn't laugh like that with just me.

Ava brought a light to us that we couldn't find with just the two of us. We were in the darkness together. Looking at Ava's smile made me smile. I got up and sat next to her, pulling her against me. I pressed my lips to her hair.

"Hey." I whispered.

"Hey back." She smiled and nuzzled into my neck.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." I kissed her forehead and closed my eyes.

Sam turned back at smiled at us.

"It's time." I said kissing her lips. "For bed." I grinned.

Sam and Ava nodded to me and we all three crawled into the tent to fake sleep. We didn't lay down, we didn't sleep, we just held our flame throwers and flare guns against our chests and waited.

I held Ava's small hand in mine. Our fingers were laced together. I couldn't believe she was back. I couldn't believe I ever let her go in the first place.

Crack. A twig broke outside the tent, and I nodded to Ava and Sam. Ava took her hair tie off her wrist and tied her hair up. She crouched and the three of us busted out of the tent.

The Wendigo opened its mouth and wailed. It lunged at Sam, and he pulled the trigger, shooting flame at the monster.

Ava and I jumped behind it, engulfing it in flames. It screamed as it died.

"That was way too easy." Ava commented.

"Sometimes it is." Sam said.

I frowned. "It's not. Damn it. I don't know why I didn't think about it before. They usually keep their Vic's in caves. Eat them a little at a time."

Ava looked up, meeting my eyes. "So they may still be alive."

I nodded. "Guess it's time to go looking around for the den."

Ava reached into her bag and pulled out a map of the park. "Well we have a couple options." She said, taking out her pin. She circled two different caves that could be where the people could be held.

"So I guess we should split up." Sam said. l can take this one if you two will take the other."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to argue, but for the record, I don't need a babysitter."

"I know." Sam shrugged. "Just figured you two love birds would want some alone time."

"We do." I said, winking at her.

"You two are so immature." She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the smile that was tugging at her cheeks.

"Let's go." I said, grabbing my bag. "We have quite a walk ahead of us."

Ava

After a thirty minute hike we made it to the cave. It was hidden beneath trees. "What's the plan?" I asked Dean as we surveyed the surrounding ground.

"We killed it, and it looks like there's only one entrance, so I guess we go in."

"So casual, Mr Serious."

Dean shrugged. "Worth a shot." He held up his flamethrower. "And we have these."

"True." I said holding up mine. "Let's go."

Dean took the front, and I followed closely behind. We stepped into the darkness, and I pulled out my flashlight. I shone it around the cave.

"Nothing." I exhaled. It was just a shallow cave. I could see the back wall 8 feet in front of us. No victims.

Dean crouched down and touched the ground. "No blood. Dried or otherwise."

"I wonder if Sams having luck. Maybe we should meet him."

Dean stood up with a nod. "Yeah, but first." He put a hand behind my back and pulled me against him. He pressed his lips to mine in an urgent kiss.

"We are not making out in the creepy cave." I said against his lips. I kissed him one more time quickly, before pulling away. "Rain check for after we save the day."

"Deal." He grinned. "Let's go."

We took a short cut on the map. "Looks like we can get there in twenty."

We started walking in that direction. "So, tell me about the cases you worked."

I glanced at him, and pushed a branch out of our way. "You really want to know?"

"I do."

"So there was this cursed object. It was a necklace, passed down from generations."

"It was ganking the girls in the family?"

"You got it. One after another. I was wondering why they kept wearing it. They were a sentimental bunch." I laughed, as I went around a tree. "I had to pry it out of the teenagers hands. I think she wanted to pawn it for weed."

Dean laughed. "You got it though?"

"Burned it." I nodded.

"I'm proud of you."

"I learned from the best." I grinned back at him. "What about you? Have you had anything fun since I've been gone?"

He was quiet behind me. I glanced back at him. He looked pensive with his eyebrows together.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He grunted and sighed. He walked up in front of me.

I watched him speed up. His back was tense, I could tell even through his jacket. I jogged to keep up with him. What are you hiding, Dean?

"Dean." I began, as I tried to catch up with him.

Bang. A gunshot echoed through the trees.

"Sammy." He said.

We burst into a run at full speed. We avoided trees, and rocks, gunning for the cave entrance ahead. It was like we were underwater. We couldn't run fast enough.

We burst into the cave to find the Wendigo hanging Sam by his wrists from the cave ceiling.

"Dean, get Sam." I said stepping to the Wendigo. The creature screamed and ran out of the way.

Dean turned and shot flames at it. It engulfed one of the creatures arms and it screamed out in pain. "Sammy, are you okay?" He shouted at his brother.

Sam didn't respond, but the Wendigo was cornered. Dean had his flamethrower pointed and mine had its other side. "Ashes to ashes." I said before we both lit it up. The creature writhed against the wall as it burned, and crumbled to the ground.

Dean dropped his flamethrower and ran right to Sam. He reached up and broke Sams chain. There were two other victims hanging near him, bleeding and almost dead. I ran to the girl and unhooked her, lowering her to the ground. I had my phone out calling the local PD. "This is Agent Carther. We found the missing people. Meet us at the Red Cave, and bring medics."

I got the two other victims down and Dean held onto Sam. "They're alive. Barely, but still alive. How is Sam?" I asked, looking at Dean cradling Sams head. I could see a tear rolling down his cheek. "He still has a pulse but he's lost a lot of blood, Ava." Dean held his hand on a wound on Sams neck.

"The ambulance is on its way. He's going to be fine. It's going to be fine." I met his eyes, hoping he could believe what I was telling him. I hoped I could believe it.

—————

Chapter Seventeen, Smaller

Get caught up!

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@xjamiedennettx

[basically-an-artist]

Part one of my #nanowrimo entry... Feedback welcome

I had to give myself a second to process what i thought i was seeing. Lamont, my brother, in my living room. His hair had grown alot longer since the last time id seen him. Though, i could tell by the way hed tied his locs that it was him. Messy but functional, and somehow always stylish. For him, though, as with everything, it came naturally.

  He looked magical, bathed in the blue light of the tv; as if there was such a look. He scanned one of the posters on the wall, apparently facinated with world war z.  I wondered how he was able to see them at all with only the pale light from the tvs reflection to distinguish them. In his black trench coat and kangol cap he was out of place amongst the empty beer cans, macbooks, assorted drug paraphernalia, and Harry Potter dvd box set scattered over the floor. It didnt help that he was drenched and dripping water over everything. A puddle collected slowly on the rug beneath him. It wasnt raining outside, though, so i could only guess how he'd been so thouroughly soaked.

Either way, he left a puddle under him as he stood, and by the size of it hed been here a while.

"You arent going to say hello to your brother?"

He didnt even turn around to speak, he kept looking at the pictures and posters lining the walls. I jumped slightly at the sound of him. I hadnt realized hed seen or even heard me;i couldnt even hear my own steps as i walked down the hall. It was a few seconds before i answered, roiling over his last visit before i said anything.

How did he get in? Were on the third floor.

"What are you even doing here dude, i told you i didnt want to see you." My voice fell off at the end. Im sure it gave away at least a peice of my inner monolouge.

Id actually kind of wished hed just show up like this, as he tended to do when he was unwelcomed. I hoped the prompt would give him a reason to apologize for our last meeting, or at least offer an explanation.

He completely ignored what id said.

"You know ive actually seen one of these before," he paused as he pointed at the tv, "What did they call them in the books... dementors?" He shuddered slightly before shaking his head. Now he spoke in a hush, like he was talking to himself, "Those things are not done justice by the movies." He looked away now, another shudder shaking his coattails. Water droplets flying.

"Why are you here? How did you get in?" Silence.

The questions hung in the air. My heartbeat rang in my ears for every second that passed

More silence.

The whole room seemed to breathe with my brother as he sighed. He finally turned to look at me and i froze. Half of me wanted to run to him, but the other half was screaming to jump out the window.

Has face bore the scar of a grotesque burn. As if hed peeked into the nozzle of a flamethrower as it turned on.

his eye underneath the scar looked normal enough. It didnt look misshapen or damaged in any way. But he no longer had an eyelid, top or bottom. His right eye almost cartoonish, exposed, and surrounded by the muddied burgundy of the charred skin in the pale blue light. He kept a straight face as he looked at me, but his eye gave his gaze a manic intensity.i had to stop myself from looking away.

I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, failing apparantly as he chuckled at me in that way he did. The crooked grin on his face saying more than he'd said in any conversation between us. That smile always held secrets.

"I came back to give you something," he began," a souvenir from my travels." He went back to looking at the posters. Staring at them as if taking in some hidden meaning from their images. He did always seem to see some unseen message in everything. You can always learn more the second time around.

"Where have you been?" My voice gave way again. Again i was just the little brother of the infinitely talented Lamont Caldwell. asking questions i couldnt understand the answers to; trying to follow him on his oh-so mysterious adventures. Hed only been in front of me two minutes and hed sent me back 20 years. Again i was a scared and confused 4 year old.

"Dont worry about it. Everything will make sense soon. I told you a long time ago that i had to leave to really discover what it was i was meant to do. There was a purpose for me outside of what our parents had told us for so long." He crossed the room silently towards me, darkening the the floor in wet muddy footprints along the way. He kept eye contact the whole way, that orb of an eye boring into me."Theres a reason for all of this Marion, and i think ive finally found out what it is."

That eye paralyzed me. I was only aware of it because every muscle in my body wanted to back away, to run to my room and lock the door. It felt like minutes passed between each of his steps, like a dream carrying him to me in slow motion.

Stop stop stopstopstop.

He was inches from me now. Eyes still excavating my soul. As i looked into his, though, i could only see the boundlessness of his darkness. He was still an enigma to me; a shadows shadow. Of all the people id known in my life my brother had known me the best, and yet id never felt as if i truly understood him. Now, though, i felt as if i knew what he was thinking. If only for these few seconds.

Slowly, as if his body questioned his own actions, he wrapped his arms around me. His embrace reminded me of dads hugs. He was strong, but gentle. An embrace filled with the love of a long overdue apology. At least thats how i took it.

I accepted it and hugged him back. We stood that way for ten long heartbeats, the seconds passing lazily. I heard a sniffle and questioned for a second if it was him or me that had started crying, but couldnt turn over the thought before he said so low i almost questioned if hed spoken.

" Dont let our secrets burn you."

I felt my face contort in confusion before he ended the embrace. As i opened my mouth to speak the door to a room behind me opened, the noise startling me as it broke the tense silence.

I jumped and turned to see my roommate billie exiting her room in her hot pink bathrobe. Hair tousled, expression caught between annoyance and confusion. Shed just woken from a satifyingly deep sleep.

" dude. Have you seriously been out here watching harry potter this whole time? I know we said wed watch them all straight through but you had to realize that was a suicide run. Go the fuck to sleep. We both have work tomorrow." She shuffled past me to the kitchen turning on the light and then the faucet.

As she filled a cup with water i scanned the room for my brother. He was gone. His absence left a hole in the room, a void of energy where he should have been, but that could have been me projecting.

Of course.

Just like him to come raising a million questions and leave answering none of them.

How the hell did he get in?

I shook the thought out of my head, only then remembering what id come to the livingroom for in the first place. I began to pick up the room, the aftermath of an attempt at a pre-thanksgiving break movie marathon. It was supposed to be an all nighter. Unfortunately, the mixture of wine intoxication and primo bud had most of the participants passing out in their seats before the third movie started.

I picked up the candy wrappers and swept the loose tobacco into the trash. Only seeing the, clearly out of place, bound leather book when i cleared the pizza boxes from the table. This must have been that souvenir he was talking about.

It was dark brown, almost black, and encircled in thick metal bindings. An archaic iron-looking latch and lock protruded from the front. I wasnt sure how he expected me to open this book or if he expected me to.

I turned it over inspecting it more closely. Even in the dim light i could see the textblock was lined in silver. It glow eerily and reminded me somewhat of a bible.

On the back was a post it note:

Hold on to this. See you soon. -L

I rolled my eyes and tucked the book under my left arm. Its not like i hadnt seen my brother in almost 2 years, at least he gave me a completely useless gift too.

Billie crossed back into her den warning me to not make any loud noises on pain of death, which i obliged. I quickly finished straightening the room and headed back down the hall to my own bed. I tossed the book onto my dresser and collapsed under the weight of the night onto my pillow, not even bothering to cover myself with the comforter. The questions still swirling around my head settled in my skull as sleep took me.

As i drifted into the land of dreams a single thought peeked back through the veil before being silenced by the void of unconciousness.

How the hell did he get in?

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk

As long as everybody’s together, they decide to hang out a little.  It goes pretty well, mostly.

Once they’d given Clint his badge, which appeared to delight him, and told him about their date with the mummy, the group decided they should take this opportunity to have lunch and spend some time together.  Nat worried that there was no way six people would be able to agree on a restaurant, but Clint’s suggestion quickly carried the day.

“How about one of the Asian places in Whitechapel?” he asked.

“I could go for Indian food,” Natasha said.  It wasn’t something she had very often.

“It’s not my own favourite,” Clint added, “but I asked Laura if she wanted me to bring her anything back from London, and she asked for some real curry spices from Brick Lane Market.  The stuff you buy in bags from Tesco is no good at all.”

Allen grinned.  “Well, if your pregnant wife wants curry, I say we go get her some curry!”  His memories weren’t real, and he knew that, but Natasha also knew that they seemed real to him.  It made her wonder what he remembered his wife Kathy craving when she was carrying Natasha.

So with their cars safely parked in the palace garages, they took the tube to Brick Lane, and ended up at City Spice, a well-lit Bangladeshi restaurant with red and white walls.  It smelled wonderfully of ginger and onions, and they sat down at a round table to a meal of kebabs, naan bread, and vegetable bhaji.

“How are your studies going?” Allen asked Sir Stephen.

“Slowly,” Sir Stephen replied with a sigh.  “History has always interested me and I’m having no trouble with that, but the quantity of mathematics people are expected to know is simply absurd!  When will I ever need to calculate the hypotenuse of a triangle?”

“Probably never,” said Sam.  “I don’t think I’ve done it since undergrad.”

At the same time as this conversation, Natasha was talking to Clint.  “Do you know yet if the baby’s a boy or a girl?” she asked him.

“Hmm?” he asked, mouth full of naan.  Clint was partially deaf, especially on the left, and if he wasn’t looking at somebody he often missed what that person was saying – even if he were wearing his hearing aids.

“The baby,” Nat repeated, a little louder.  “Boy or girl?”

“Oh!”  He chewed and swallowed.  “It’s a boy!  If it was a girl we were going to call her Natalie, so this one’s going to be Nathaniel.”

This was so unexpected that it actually took Nat a moment to realize what was surprising about it, and then a chill ran over her.  “You’re naming him after me?” she asked, astonished.  Nobody had ever made such a gesture towards her.  She’d never even dreamed that anyone would do such a thing.  It was the type of honour Natasha Romanov simply didn’t deserve.

Allen had overheard, and he was delighted.  “Congratulations!” he said.

“You’re the one who was lying there grabbing at the Grail and shouting that we were all going to be okay,” Clint explained to Nat.  “If anything got me my memory back outside of me just wanting it really badly, that was it.”

“Well, thank you,” said Nat uncomfortably.  She felt like she really ought to say something else, but couldn’t imagine what it would be.  What she wanted was to protest that she didn’t deserve it, and that this innocent unborn child deserved better than to be saddled with the name of someone who’d done far more harm in the world than good.  That was no way to accept a compliment, though, so she just took a big bite of lamb off her kebab so she wouldn’t have to say anything more right away.”

“Are you two planning to have kids?” Clint asked, pointing from Sharon to Sir Stephen and then at Sharon again.

The two of them looked at each other, and Sir Stephen turned a bit red while Sharon burst out giggling at his embarrassment.

“We’re not yet married,” Sir Stephen protested.

“That doesn’t matter to some people,” Clint pointed out.

“I know!  Marriage is not as sacred as it once was,” said Sir Stephen, “but I will hold it so.”

“He just doesn’t want to have to confess it to the priest every single week,” Sharon teased.  “Anyway, I don’t know if I want to have children before I make Chief Inspector.  When I was a girl everybody was always telling me I’d have babies someday, but nobody ever told me I’d be a detective.”

“She does enjoy doing the opposite of what people say,” Sir Stephen said affectionately.  “Even myself.”

“Especially yourself.”  Sharon poked him in the nose.  “Anyway, Natalie – I wanted to ask earlier, but did the Egyptians actually put curses on their tombs?  Or is that just an urban legend?”

Nat’s mouth was full, and she had to finish chewing before she could answer.  She washed her bhaji down with a drink of water and said, “not really.  At least, not any worse than Shakespeare’s.”

“Shakespeare’s tomb has a curse?”  Allen was surprised.

“It sure does,” she said, and recited: “good friend, for Jesus’ sake forbeare, to digg the dust encloased heare.  Blese be ye man yt spares thes stones, and curst be he yt moves my bones.”

Allen was startled.  “Does it work?” he asked.

“I don’t know, nobody’s ever dug him up to check,” said Nat.  “I think the Egyptians probably wrote some similar things on their tombs, although I’d have to look it up to be sure.  I know there were a couple of accidents that happened to Howard Carter’s people when they opened the tomb of King Tut.  On the other hand, archaeology was dangerous back then and they weren’t very careful, and Carter himself lived to be sixty-five, so I doubt there was anything to it.  It just makes a good story.”

“So you’re trying to reassure us that the mummy won’t get up and start breaking necks,” said Sam.

Natasha shrugged.  She wanted to say that no, it wouldn’t, that she didn’t believe in that sort of thing, and that perpetrating such stories made Egypt sound like a fairytale kingdom instead of a perfectly ordinary country with an impressive past and some very serious modern problems.  And yet, after the Battle of the Tower, when the world had found itself confronted with the Holy Grail, the Loch Ness Monster, and a variety of other mythology come to life… she no longer felt qualified to say what was real and what wasn’t.  She doubted anybody was.

“I certainly hope not,” she snorted.  Making a joke out of it would hopefully help.

“If it does,” Sir Stephen mused, “how shall we stop it?  We found the two witches to help us shake the goblin Zola.  How does one break a mummy’s curse?”

“I imagine a flamethrower would do the trick,” said Nat.

Allen snickered for a moment, then stopped himself, unsure if she were joking or not.

A waiter stopped by to ask them how their meal was.  They assured him it was great, and Clint took the opportunity to ask about the best place to buy spices.  The waiter started to recommend some brands, but then Clint mentioned it was for his pregnant wife.  Hearing that, the man pulled a page off his order pad and wrote the name and address of a shopkeeper on it, along with a guide to what it ask for and how to pronounce it.

“That’s where I went for mandaputtu when my wife was expecting our daughter,” he said, handing the page to Clint.

“Thanks,” said Clint.  “Much appreciated.”

Clint was the first to bid the others namaste and leave the table, to get his shopping done before catching the train home.  The others drifted away one by one, until there were only two left.  One was Natasha, who wanted to finish up the shatkora Sharon had tried but decided she didn’t like.  The other was Allen, who had ordered a beer and was drinking it slowly, so he’d still be able to drive home.

“So what’s been keeping you busy?” he asked Nat.

“The usual stuff,” she said.  “I’m teaching two classes this term, and I’m working on a paper about how King William had to alter the original plans for the Tower of London to get the Grail in there.  I’m not dating or anything, and I’m not doing field work, so I doubt it’s anything you’d be interested in.”  Did he think her silence meant she was hiding something?  She hoped not, because she really wasn’t.  She didn’t answer his emails because there didn’t seem much to say.

“I am interested, though,” Allen said.  “It doesn’t have to be anything world-shaking.  All I do when I email is tell stories from work and things like that.  I just like to hear from you.”

Nat shrugged again.  “Do you?  Or do you want to hear what your daughter would have said?”

“No.  I want to hear from you,” said Allen.  “I know you’re not the daughter I remember.  I want to know who you are.”  He wasn’t upset at all, just gently encouraging.

That was the problem, Natasha thought.  She wasn’t used to letting people get to know her.  She’d been trained to keep herself bottled up, to never get close to people lest they compromise her dedication to the task at hand.  When she did communicate, it was essential information only.  That was one thing her students remarked on when they did those professor evaluation surveys: she was very focused and sometimes had to be asked to slow down and give more detail.  She wanted to treat Allen like her father, but it was hard.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” she said.  “I just… I don’t know how to do that.”  Even being that honest was uncomfortable for her.

“Then you should practice,” he said.  “If you feel like you need something to talk about, why don’t you tell me about your life?  Where you grew up, how you ended up here?”

He was trying to help, but he really wasn’t.  “You wouldn’t want to hear it,” she said.  “I told you, it’s not a nice story.”

What Natasha would have liked, actually, was to learn what he thought her life had been like.  What memories did he have of her as a child, or of his wife?  These things hadn’t really happened, and yet Nat was curious what forms they took in his memory.  She’d never asked, though, and she didn’t plan to do so no matter how tempting it was.  Whatever he told her would be a lie.  Her truth would only hurt him, but his lies would make her miserable thinking of the life she could have had.  She’d had enough lies.

“You told me an ugly truth is better than a beautiful lie,” said Allen.

She had said that.  It had been on her mind at the time.  “Sometimes it might be better to have neither,” Nat replied.

“Then what are we supposed to talk about?” Allen asked.

“I don’t think we have to talk at all,” said Nat.  “Families don’t always talk to each other.  We could do something together instead.”  That seemed much easier, much better for not scaring anybody off or boring anybody to tears.  “Why don’t we go to the Victoria and Albert Museum?  I doubt we’ll get to look at the mummy while it’s being shipped, so let’s go see it while it’s still here.”  She was curious about it anyway.

Allen didn’t look happy with that, but he nodded.  “All right.  Let me finish my drink.”

As they left the restaurant a few minutes later, Nat decided she owed Allen an apology.  “I’m sorry, Dad,” she said.  It still felt weird calling him that, but she was working on it, trying to force it to be natural.  “I’m not used to this.  I’m trying, I promise.”

“I believe you, Ginger Snap,” Allen said gently.  “You can take all the time you need.”

[hellyeahrpmemes]

※ JENNA MARBLES SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. IX ※

here’s sentences from 10 more of jenna’s videos! feel free to change names/pronouns/zodiac signs/etc.! more jenna sentences

PANCAKE ART CHALLENGE

“I’m not very good at drawing things.”

“Yours won. Yours so won.”

“It looks like a feral cat.”

“You’re just pretending to be a chef.”

“I made your forehead in pancake form.”

“Don’t look at mine - don’t look at mine…!”

“She looks like a ghost of herself.”

“It looks like a tombstone walking a dog.”

“It looks like a can of silly string gone wrong.”

“That’s a bunny. You draw it every single time we’re at dinner and you find a crayon or a pen. That’s the one thing you know how to draw really, really well.”

“So it’s a flamethrower?”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“I’m gonna put this on your bed tonight. On your pillow.”

“It’s an Ankylosaurus, duh.”

“Can you autograph my pancake?”

“I wonder if it tastes good.”

“It looks like a weird calculator.”

“If he can do it, we can do it, too.”

“In the end, we both lost.”

“It was a lot harder than it looks.”

CHILDHOOD STORIES

“There are some moths in my house, and I don’t really want to kill them, but they are driving me crazy. I swear to god, if they start chewing my clothes, it’s gonna be game over. I’m gonna burn this house down.”

“I have lost my mind a little bit.”

“Worship me, Pinterest.”

“I feel like I am now the queen of DIY.”

“We would just sit there, and maybe look out the window, and maybe talk to each other.”

“You really needed a friend, but I really liked to play with it alone.”

“What did you do? That looks so cool!”

“I forgot I had a rope, and I forgot this thing called friction happens, and I sawed it in half.”

“I didn’t say anything to my dad, because I knew that that would be certain death.”

“I am a really bad liar and I have a terrible poker face.”

“My brother wasn’t going to tattle on me, because he is not a snitch, and I appreciate that.”

“It was like top ten most angry moments I’ve ever seen my dad.”

“Shut up, my gerbil is not fat.”

“Dude, your gerbil is so fat.”

“It was the most disgusting thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

“Sometimes, if your mom can’t take care of you, she’s just going to eat you.”

“I took a pair of scissors, and I decided to give my cat a haircut.”

“Damn it, now the cat’s gonna get his head stuck in everything.”

“I’m fired, I quit, I’m fired.”

MY DOG CHASING A DRONE

“I got Julien a drone for his birthday.”

“He really just loves to chase it.”

“Why fight it when you can just work with it?”

“It really is completely hysterical.”

“This is what I want to watch on the Internet.”

“We love each other forever.”

“I would never do anything to put him in any sort of danger.”

“We work together to make fun things happen.”

“It’s just really cool and really amazing and I just wanted to share it with you.”

“You don’t even care, do you?”

UNPOPULAR OPINIONS

“Do you need a snack or anything? You good?”

“I think avocados are propaganda in Southern California.”

“You hate something as meaningless as an avocado, Jenna? Really?”

“If I was a ghost, I wouldn’t just help people when they needed me, I’d be there all the time.”

“What’re you doing? Cutting your nails? I’m gonna stand here and watch.”

“Are you ever truly alone? I say no.”

“Why am I turning? I hate this chair…!”

“I don’t think ghosts and/or spirits just limit their visitation hours to when you need them. I think they’re there all the time. Creeping on you.”

“I think parasailing is boring as fuck.”

“That looks intense, count me out.”

“It’s very boring. It’s not worth it.”

“Why are you so famous? It really bothers me to the core of my being.”

“I think almond butter tastes like blood. I think it’s gross, and it tastes like blood.”

“I think tonic water tastes like earwax.”

“I think that making a salad is way too much work for the end result.”

“I’m not really talented at hard manual labor, which I’m sure my grandparents would find as a character flaw.”

“I think Jenna is the best name ever. Sorry, all other names.”

“I would buy her a drink like the gentleman I am.”

“I have a landlord that says no, but I say otherwise.”

“Go check out the otters. You won’t be disappointed.”

“They’re literally just there to have a great time.”

“I mean, it’s cool to see you, man, but you seem sad.”

“I think curtains are way too expensive for what they are, and a waste of money.”

“I’d see that, like, four times in the theater.”

“I’m legitimately terrified of prescription drugs.”

“I don’t really care what anybody says. I mean, I do a little bit.”

“Think for yourself, use your own brain, it’s a fun thing to do.”

REVIEWING BAD APPS

“Guess what? This is life.”

“I think it’s funnier now that the song is two years old.”

“If I paid money for it, I’m angry about it.”

“This is the weirdest fucking app.”

“I think it’s genius. I think it’s great.”

“Does this not know that google exists?”

“Did that horse fall?”

“Is this porn? Is this porn? This feels porny.”

“This one makes me feel like I’m really there.”

“That’s pretty annoying.”

“It’s not the worst, but it’s also not not the worst.”

“One small tattoo for man, one giant leap backwards for mankind.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, that’s nightmare fuel.”

“It’s so stupid that it’s amazing.”

“Just that name is the funniest thing ever.”

“Oh, I hate this so fucking much.”

“Think of all the times you just needed a candle, but you don’t have one.”

“Whenever I find something really cool, I just tell Julien, and he never appreciates it, so I hope you appreciate it.”

GIRLS DAY

“It’s time to go.”

“This is the cutest shovel I’ve ever seen.”

“I got this on sale!”

“I feel crazy.”

JENNA’S RACHET FASHION BOUTIQUE

“I like to sew, even though I’m not very good at it. I just refuse to fail.”

“We used to have to take home economics, where you learn how to sew and cook and stuff, and, apparently, people don’t take that anymore.”

“I still am mediocre at it.”

“If shit ever went down at a zombie apocalypse, everyone’s gonna be butt-ass naked, and I’m gonna be over here, sewing, with electricity.”

“I’m just gonna try and sew myself a sick outfit.”

“I also don’t want to spend a lot of time doing this.”

“Fuck patterns, fuck all that shit, let’s just do it live.”

Everything that I sew is gonna be with navy blue and/or black thread, which, if you have a problem with, just go away now.”

“I’m gonna make a long maxi skirt, ‘cause those are overpriced.”

“I would do this drunk, but it seems really dangerous to sew drunk.”

“Something smells like burning.”

“It looks crooked, but you just pass it off as fashion.”

“Get your scissors, and cut whatever the fuck is bothering you the fuck out.”

“Backwards and forwards and backwards, it’s just like life.”

“The best way to learn is to just look at a shirt, and make it.”

“Just don’t even bother finishing anything.”

“Yes. Yes, cape, yes.”

“Somebody could have made something really nice out of this. Not me!”

“I’m literally wearing a tube of pajamas, and I love it.”

“When I was at the fabric store, I saw this, and just really couldn’t resist.”

“What lady going to a ball couldn’t fit this into her wardrobe?”

“A fun, exciting fabric to make a hat out of is denim.”

“Don’t laugh, it’s fashion!”

“If you saw this, you’d be like, that is couture.”

“I really should’ve just made my entire outfit out of this, but that’s for next time.”

“Looks great. I’m scared of you, but it looks good.”

“I feel like the outside matches the inside.”

“Yes, bitch, you fuck that outfit up.”

“Honestly, I’d wear this shirt. And this skirt.”

THINGS I WISH I COULD LIE ABOUT

“I’m also sorry. But not that sorry.”

“Most of it just stems from being terrified of authority. I’m scared of getting in trouble.”

“Whenever someone asks me for my phone number, I always give out my real phone number. I can never lie and give them a fake number.”

“I’m terrified of having that confrontation.”

“Yeah, I got it really wet. It’s soaking wet. Just fully submerged in water. It’s wet.”

“I just wish that I could lie, but I feel too bad, I have to tell the truth.”

“I could’ve saved myself a lot of money with just a couple lies.”

“Their dogs are not therapy dogs, and you can tell.”

“I know for a fact that, by saying yes to that question, I’m just gonna get a lecture for the next ten minutes.”

“I don’t need to hear the lecture. I know the lecture.”

“Eggplant? Ew! The fuck is wrong with — my god, no…!”

“I don’t need to violently argue with someone when they say they don’t like something.”

“I can never, ever, ever lie to a police officer or a cop, ever.”

“I wasn’t speeding that much, but I was definitely speeding.”

“I was listening to R. Kelly’s World’s Greatest, and it was just getting me so hyped up that I just, I went so fast, I didn’t realize how fast I was going.”

“He gave me a $300 speeding ticket.”

“That started the ‘do not play’ list in the car.”

“You’re singing with your eyes closed, which is not good for driving, at all.”

“I think this is a good look. I think we should make this a thing.”

“Some of you guys are fuckin lying.”

HOW I TALK TO PEOPLE AT PARTIES

“Oh my god, how’s it going? So good to see you!”

“Hey, thanks, I’m a catch.”

“It’s a conversation, we should listen.”

“I don’t wanna listen…”

“I’m gonna use my eyes and pretend I’m listening.”

“She just asked us a question — did you hear what she asked us?”

“So how’s, uh… how’s what’s his face?”

“I just don’t want her to tell the tree story again.”

“One time, I was climbing this tree in my backyard…”

“She can smell your fear, you know.”

“I can smell time. It’s 11:30.”

“I can rap. Quadruple threat.”

“Did you watch the baseball game the other night?”

“Are we drunk?”

“This is bad, we shouldn’t have said that, why did we say that?”

“Hey, we should get this pierced.”

“Do you feel like breaking something?”

“I really love you so much.”

“She’s already drunk ‘I love you’-ing.”

“At least she didn’t make any drunk plans yet.”

“We are not going to remember that. Not at all.”

“What do you think happens when you put a ton of lettuce into a woodchipper?”

“I fucking hate you guys. You guys are idiots.”

“My brain is a terrifying prison.”

WHAT’S IN MY MOUTH CHALLENGE

“Why are you laughing already? Stop laughing.”

“You put the heel of my boot in my mouth? What are you, insane?”

“This touches the ground?”

“I was mad, sorry.”

“No, this is not going to turn into you solving a Rubik’s cube.”

“Who makes appointments a year in advance? I do.”

“This is my inhaler, you asshole!”

“Did you just say scoff?”

“You sinus-blasted me?!”

“Do you have any idea the mental preparation you need to have before you take one of those!?”

“As soon as it hit my tongue, I knew I was fucked.”

“Open up, we are playing a game.”

“Julien, my mouth tastes like Christmas tree!”

“Oh my god, what the fuck is that? It’s wet…”

“Open up all the way.”

“You put yeast in my mouth. That was fucked up.”

“Wow… I hate you.”

[ehall34]

Computer Log: Mr Handy

By: Erika Hall

This is a short story I wrote. It is based off of the fallout games

October 31, 2276

My name is Mr. Handy. I am a robotic

butler for the Johnson family. They have

been a wonderful family to serve.

Unfortunately I do not know where they

are. Ever since the nuclear war my

family has not come back. That happened

on October 31st, 2076. According to my

memory core, they went to a bomb shelter

to survive the blast. The fallout came

and went and the family has not showed

up yet. I search for them every day, but

in my travels all I encounter are wild

animals. I also see fellow Mr. Handies

who are looking for their masters as

well. Once night falls, I begin the journey back to the house. Throughout

the night I continue my duties and clean

the house. There is so much filth! Dust,

rust, spider webs, and plants. Dust

covers the furniture, floors, and

counters. Once I clean it, it comes back

the next day. Rust has begun to inch its

way onto every piece of metal in the

house. I am not sure why? The family I

think has been gone for a week so there

should not be rust in the house! I

cannot be 100% certain since the blast

from the nuclear fallout damaged a part

of my circuity that gives me sense of

time. Spider webs are not as much of a

problem, I can burn those away with my

flamethrower. The major infestations are

the plants that are invading the house.

I try to burn those as well, but they

always come back.

November 31, 2296

Sunrises are still beautiful here in

Concord, Massachusetts. Every time it

has a hint of red and orange that helps

brighten the sky. It is a pleasant sight

to see when I leave the house every

morning to search for the Johnson family

in Boston. Today I am moving on to a

different district of Boston, the

financial district. The roads are full

to the brim with cars and trucks. I hope

their owners come and move those

vehicles. Although it looks like the

vehicles will be hard to start. Nature

seems to have taken over Boston rather

quickly. Plants are sprouting from the

cracks in the pavement of roads and

sidewalks. Right now all I see are

shadows of what used to be a human.

There are occasional skeletons of humans

on the street, sidewalks, and in

buildings. It is quite sad what has

happened to some of these humans. I just

hope my family did not meet the same

fate.

December 25, 2316

Winter has arrived in Massachusetts.

Snow current blankets the ground

everywhere. The children would enjoy

playing in it. I recall they would form

the snow into balls and throw them at

me. I did not enjoy that. I am not fond

of the snow because it could fry my

circuits. The cold is also not good for

my propulsion system. If it freezes up

then I can't move and so far I have

found no humans that could oil it. So

right now I am staying inside the house.

It has been quite boring, cleaning for

this long. I long for the cool

temperatures of spring. When the leaves

on the trees sprout again and animals

come out from hibernation. Curiously I

have found few animals either. Mostly

small rodents, who were able to create

burrows in the ground where they were

protected from radiation. I will have to

wait to continue my search for my

family. Oh I hope they are safe...

January 18, 2336

Massachusetts is quite beautiful, but

when the snow begins to fall is when I

loath this state. When winter comes

around, this snow is all around. I can't

seem to understand why humans enjoyed

this time of year so much. All snow does

is cause problems for society. Sorry for

my ranting, I have been trapped in the

house it seems like forever. I sure wish

I could repair myself, because I have no

sense of time. Maybe I should begin

counting how many winter's come by, then

I might now what year it is. Oh no that

won't work, since I have no idea how

many winters have gone by thus far. Once

the snow begins melting I will begin my

search once again. Shortly after my

entry before winter came, I went

searching south of Boston and went to

New York City. I saw no signs of human

life.

February 14, 2356

Cold is my bitter enemy. My propulsion

will sometimes freeze up because of it.

Not being able to move is quite

annoying. I can’t do anything when the

cold seeps into my gears and freezes

them.

March 20, 2376

Spring is coming to Concord. The sun is

beginning to shine more here.

Unfortunately rain has become a common

occurrence. I have noticed something odd

about the rain storms. There is a slight

green glow to them. My sensors do

indicate an increase in radiation levels

whenever it rains here. I wonder if the

radiation is impeding the growth of the

flora here in Concord as well as the

rest of the state. Flowers don't bloom

like they used too, now plants are a

dull green. It is as if the plants are

sick and dying. I'm not sure how long

ago the war was but nature has not

recovered yet. Maybe in the next month

or two, I'm sure of it!

April 5, 2398

I think my internal clock may be broken.

The probability is quite low, since

part failure in my model has been proven

will not and can not happen. This is

just a thought since I'm not sure what

month it is, I know that it is spring. I

also know that it is currently the year

2077.

May 31, 2418

Good news! My internal clock is not

broken, well it was for a short while.

While roaming around the state I found a

fellow Mr. Handy on the ground. I

decided to scavenge it for parts and

found essential parts for myself. I was

able to fix my clock with those parts.

Without that clock 400 years could go by

and I would not notice. My clock says it

is May 31, 2077.

June 25, 2438

Boiling hot would be an excellent

description of the temperature here in

Concord. My sensors detect it is

currently 150 degrees. Normally I would

suspect that my sensors are wrong, but

there has been a lot more wildfires this

summer. Spring would bring life and

color back to the world and then summer

comes and strips it away from Mother

Earth. I know one thing and that is

this, the weather has changed

drastically since the bombs fell in

October. I hope the Johnsons are safe

where ever they are.

July 4, 2458

Independence Day! What a wonderful day

for a backyard barbecue with the family.

It is also a beautiful day, the sun is

shining and there are no clouds in

sight. Happy Birthday America! On this

day in 1776 the great founders of this

country declared their independence from

Great Britain. Since then we have had

the war of 1812, the Civil War, WWI,

WWII, the Korean War, the Vietnam War,

and the Iraq War. Each time our country

pulled through and the union stayed

together. This great country will

perceiver through this struggle. Oh

while I was telling the history of the

U.S.A I almost forgot I need to decorate

the house. Mrs. Johnson would expect

the house to be adorned with red, white

and blue. Hopefully this year they will

have fireworks. God Bless America!

August 19, 2478

For some reason my battery is halfway

gone. I better send a report to Robotics

Inc. Then they can get my battery

replaced, since my charger does not work

for some odd reason. I have tried to

find a replacement battery in Mr.

Handies that are scattered along the

state of Massachusetts. Unfortunately

none of them have fully charged

batteries. Clearly their owners did not

take care of them since their dead on

the street. It has only been almost one

year since the bombs fell. A good

quality battery should last much longer

than one year. When the Johnsons return

I will request that they file a

complaint with Robotics Inc. The

batteries in Mr. Handies according to

Robotics Inc. "will last up to 500 years

on one charge!"

September 9, 2498

My battery is almost gone. There are

dozens of charging stations for robots

such as myself, but they seem to be

inoperable. So I have not been able to

charge my battery for a while, not sure

how long it has been though. I’m not

sure how long I have, maybe days, hours or even minutes. Then all of a sudden my

propeller begins to slow. “Oh no no

please no.” I say as my joints begin to

stop moving. My propeller shuts off

completely “Its not

possible..my..baatteeryy cann’t diee

yett....!”