#Life as a Vapor – Part 2

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DP X DC AU Danny & The Little Dead Girl

(title pending lol, Danny and Curare adventures pt 2!) Pt 1 here My AU art

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Monday comes, as it is won't to do, and Danny has to go to school which means the baby halfa has to come to school too.

" ok, so, one rule for today, big rule, you gotta be quiet in class. Uh-"

Danny pulls his phone out of his pocket as their bus hits a pot hole. Sitting right at the front means they catch the momentum first and he has to hold Curaré against his side lest she go flying into the aisle.

A couple voices grumble behind them at the jostling as Danny gets his text to speech open.

" Necessitas ser quieto en clase. ¿Entiendes?" The Google robot lady voice translates for him.

Curaré blinks at him from behind her little paper face mask and looks from the phone to him curiously.

This is the game they've been playing since last night, Danny says something in English robo lady repeats it in Spanish.

Danny doesn't know if Curaré understands how the phone speaks or even that it does but she's giving him her favorite little blank expression so he assumes she gets it. At least, she hasn't really disagreed or disobeyed anything he's asked of her yet so...not gonna look that gift horse in the mouth Danny boy!

..

School goes well, mostly.

They get through the metal detectors and bag checks at the front entrance just fine. The security guards barely glance at Curaré once they confirm she isn't hiding a Glock or something under her shirt. Which it's kinda sad to know gun control is a cross-dimensional American problem but it's on brand if nothing else Danny thinks.

They get to first period without stopping at Danny's locker and settle down in two desks by the back door. This is Danny's usual spot, well usual as of a month ago, it's mostly empty back here now but Danny used to have a seat partner.

(A seat partner who had a kind of shady tweaker vibe that Danny would have been worried about but that kid went home early one day and never came back so....it's Curaré's seat now.)

The little dead girl looks even littler sat in the desk-chair combo, she can barely see over the top. Danny stacks three dictionaries under her for a boost then he gets her set up with some pencils and paper and the single highlighter he found on the floor his first day here.

Curaré seems vaguely interested in his offerings ,after Danny shows her how to use them to mark the page, and starts creating cautious marks of her own.

She keeps glancing back up at Danny as if to confirm that this is still fine? And he nods his head every time trying to be encouraging as it becomes obvious that nobody taught this kid to write inside Fosters Home for Real life Assassins. Which Danny thinks is poor planning on there part because really? If your Assassin can't write how the fuck were they supposed to leave ominous threatening warnings? Or fake suicide notes? Or any number of written props to flesh out a cover story.

Whatever, obviously the assassins raising Curaré sucked ass all around so he can't say he's surprised but he is majorly disappointed.

As the bell rings for first period a whole slew of teens rush in ahead of the teacher Mr. Berk. Simple guy, grey beard, coke bottle glasses, smells like Vics vapor rub, the works.

He's like the most chilled out version of Mr. Lancer ever so he's alright in Danny's books. Plus he only has one "rule", as long as your butt is in your seat by the time he calls your name for attendance he won't mark you late. In Gotham, where everyone and their brother has enough late marks from shitty public transportion to get detention, it's a pretty sweet rule.

So Mr. Berk takes attendance like usual and only pauses on Danny and Curaré in the back for a brief moment.

Curaré stops drawing and stares down Mr. Berk like he's the T rex from Jurassic park. Frozen in place and without breaking eye contact. He stares back at her completely unphased.

" A small visitor then?" He says.

Danny nods. " My sister"

" Mhm" Mr. Berk says already moving on to the next student on his roster.

Danny breathes out huge sigh of relief, that was so much easier then he expected.

They more or less repeat this exchange the whole day. Mondays suck ass because it's one of the only days Danny actually has all 6 periods, but they make it through 1st, 2nd, and nutrition unscathed.

By lunch time Danny thinks they might actually be home free, if no one is gonna bring up the whole freaking child tagging along with him then he can probably just bring her with him everyday.

Maybe he can find her some work books and she can learn the alphabet? And addition? That's like on track for 4 year olds right? Danny can't remember being 4 but that feels right to him. He will educate the child in his care like the responsible almost adult he is. She will go to college!

At lunch Danny sits them at the back of the school right next to the teachers lounge because it's mostly deserted.

In Danny's exprience the best place to hide is in plain sight. He's been sitting here everyday since he enrolled himself and the teachers have never noticed him. Their way too busy trying to get any kind of break from teaching high schoolers to be concerned.Which Danny is greatful for because he has broken the rule about using his cell phone at lunch 50 times at this point.

Listen he has to do universe research when he has access to wifi! Which he only does at school. The administration should be glad he's using his lunch period to educate himself really.

So they eat by the lounge. Danny has Curaré face away from the door so she can take off her face mask and eat unencumbered.The cut on her face is still gnarly, it looks an almost enflamed purple as it tries it's best to heal.

Danny had given Curaré a little immuno-boost with his own ecto the night before to try to speed up her healing factor. But like any Halfa, basically just Danny's personal experience, you have to nourish the ghost half and the human half in equal parts to heal all the way.

It's not until home room, period 6/7, that the metaphorical straw breaks the metaphorical camels back. or the real straw to the metaphorical camel? Did camels even carry straw? where would it go? Between there humps? Not important Fenton!

Home room was a grade A disaster.

Mr. Perez, Danny's kind of ancient home room teacher, who was for almost all intents and purposes blind, had a freaking nose for trouble. It's like he could sniff out vapes and cell phones as soon as they hit the stale class air. Danny thought this would be the easiest class by far, Mr. Perez wouldn't even see Curaré let alone smell her.

And at first it seems like he doesnt, Mr. Perez takes attendance and skips right over Danny and Curaré with no fanfare.

Danny thinks that's the end of it and starts to breathe easy until 15 minutes before the final bell when Mr. Perez' TA asks him to step into the hallway with her for a second.

Danny generally liked Mr. Perez's TA, her name was Sabrina Kahn and she was the kind of girl Jazz would have hung out with.Straight laced, wore argyle cardigans, read books, the smart sort. She looked Jazz's age too, maybe 21ish and she always rolled her eyes when people gave dumb answers in class.

She looks a little embarrassed to be speaking to Danny which immediately sets him on edge.

" It's okay that you brought your little sister today but, I'm sorry, you won't be able to do that again. A bunch of your teachers made complaints with the front office and Mr. Perez got a call about it ..."

Sabrina had always been nice to him and now she was about to ruin his whole week.

" But Ms. Kahn-" Danny started.

She gave him a sympathetic look " Lemme guess, your parents can't take her to work so this was the next best option?"

Danny closed his mouth and nodded, that was actually a much better lie then he was gonna tell, thank you Ms. Kahn. ( But also Boooooo curse you Ms. Kahn!)

" Here, I know it can be hard to find childcare for metas, especially ones as ah-vibrant as your sister. My brother had the same trouble with my nephew."

Sabrina hands Danny a flyer, it's still warm from the printer, it looks like it's just a screenshot of an email.

"Thanks?"

The TA rolls her eyes, wow a lot like Jazz then.

" It's the address to that daycare and a referral. They only take kids by word of mouth, they're kind of... off the books. But their good people! I hope they can help you Danny."

The paper is on off yellow, as Ms.Kahn heads back into homeroom Danny feels all his hope go with her. Shit, what was he gonna do now? He looks through the little glass window in the door to the back where Curaré sits, she's already watching him. He tries to smile at her, be reassuring, he's not sure it works.

......

When the bell finally rings Danny picks Curaré up and puts her on his hip to avoid her being crushed by the rush of high schoolers who stampede out the door in front of them.

The flyer from Ms. Kahn feels like it's burning a hole through his pocket as they ride the bus towards the Narrows.

Danny cased the house from the flyer with maps street view as well as he could. It showed a skinny sublet house across from a small strip mall and laundrymat.

Inconspicuous sure, maybe even innocent looking but well...you could never tell in Gotham, all the buildings looked sort of evil by default. It was probably because of the gargoyles and the general low level stink fog that seemed to always be out.

The big city™ really made Danny miss the suburbs of Amity Park more then just the regular gut wrenching home sickness. Oh what'd he'd give to take a deep breath of air and not inhale the smell of piss when he walked down the street.

They get off the bus at the corner a block from the daycare.

Danny holds Curaré's hand which makes for slow going but seems like the right thing to do. She's never wandered off but Danny didn't want to give her the opportunity to either.

As he helped her climb the three short stairs up to the house Danny was suddenly hit with a wave of panic.

What the fuck am I doing? Am I really gonna take care of this freaking Halfa ghost baby for the next 18 years? Im not even an adult! I work weekends at BatBurger for minimum wage WTF?

Danny's hands began to sweat and his stomach cramped. Oh fuck, here was the existential crisis he'd been waiting for since he first decided to take Curaré from the leagues super secret baby basement.

Oh shit he couldn't breathe, what was he gonna do! OH fuck think!

What would jazz do? Call child services and offer psychological support. Not Uber helpful in this case Danny didn't know the first thing about psychology and Gotham CPS was actual prison.

What would Sam do? Assassin babies are hella counter culture but maybe find a cool rich eccentric family to adopt them? Nope, not gonna work Danny only knew one eccentric rich girl and she was a whole dimension away. FUCK THINK FENTON!

What would Tucker do? In this situation ask Google, homeschooling is big these days so maybe if you leave her in the apartment while your gone with an iPad-

" Hey you alright there dude, can I help you?"

Danny choked on the end of his anxiety panic badbadbad spiral and looked up.

The front door to the house was open and just inside the threshold stood a younger teen, maybe 16? With the kind of fade haircut Tucker always whined he couldn't pull off and a bright yellow hoodie.

Danny held his breathe for a moment making sure he felt it burn up his lungs and throat before letting out a big sigh.

" Yeah, yeah sorry kinda zoned out there I'm just uh kinda nervous I was told to come here for Daycare help for my little sister?"

Curaré looked at the stranger in the doorway with the same wide eyed blankness she stared at everything with. Funnily enough she was still holding Danny's hand, had held on through Danny's entire mental meltdown too despite the ecto sweat. Danny felt oddly touched by the gesture, even if it was more likely that the little girl wasn't bothered by his crisis then her being sympathetic.

The teen in the Yellow Hoodie raised an eyebrow at Danny as he fumbled the paper from Ms. Kahn out of his pocket to hand over.

Yellow Hoodie took it and looked between it, him, and Curaré.

" You're not a cop right? You have to tell us if you're a cop"

Danny made a face, " no, I'm not a cop! I would never be a cop, cops suck."

" Right." Yellow Hoodie said still suspicious " So you wouldn't mind if I called your referral up?"

" Be my guest dude."

The teen pulled out his phone and made sure to keep steady eye contact with Danny. Who could do nothing except not look away during this, the world's most impromptu staring contest, until Yellow Hoodie put his phone away.

" Just wanted to see if you were bluffing. Sabrina called earlier said she'd sent someone our way but you can never be too careful. Come on in. "

Danny felt the wind go out of his sails for the second time that day, what was with people and making him anticipate the worst.

.....

The inside of the house was old, homey, but old. It had very obviously been well lived in by a few generations of children, easy to see from the scuffed floors, chipped crown molding, and the sheer number of framed photos that hung on the walls.

There were signs of new life about too, some toys scattered on the floor, walls that were covered in butcher paper and crayon as high as little hands could reach, and oddly enough some scorch marks. Although, Danny's supposed that an unlicensed daycare for meta kids worth it's salt ought to have a least a few burn marks. For posterity if nothing else.

" I'm Duke, I volunteer here when I can but the place is run by the Mariscos, Mrs. Marisco specifically. She's been in the game for a long time" Duke nee yellow hoodie said as he stopped them in front of a closed door.

The hand made sign on the door said Office in nice scribbly lettering and it was hung on with a peg and twine. Real kitschy.

Danny could just make out the sounds of kids playing in another part of the house and was a little impressed that Duke had managed to keep Danny from seeing even one tiny tot during the impromptu house tour.

" I gotta go help Izzy with the kids, this is Mrs.Mariscos' office just knock before you go in, she might be on the phone."

Duke nodded to Danny, smiled down at Curaré and disappeared down the hallway.

Leaving Danny and Curaré alone in front of a closed door once again.

Danny looked down at Curaré and she looked up at him, she was characteristically silent.

" This feels like a job interview, did you bring your resume? "

Curaré blinked.

" Yeah, me neither. But I think if we both give her puppy eyes maybe our combined under aged-ness will activate her maternal instincts and she'll be forced to accept us?"

The nerves were back, they had never really left but now they had settled like a rock at the pit of Danny's stomach.

He couldn't bring himself to knock on that office door just yet so he fussed over Curaré instead. Kneeling down he straightened the collar of Curaré's hooded jacket and moveed her little backpack strap back up her shoulder where it had slipped.

" We got this. It's you and me now remember, even if this blows and you have to come to school with me for the rest of year it's you and me." Danny rested his hands on little shoulders and hung his head. " Jeez, I sound like my mom"

"No need to be so nervous Mijo! My Chiqis never met a kid she could turn away."

Danny's neck had never snapped up so fast in his life.

Curaré hadn't been looking up at him at all. No, Curaré was staring up towards the elderly woman floating near the ceiling.

Which was not great, because Danny for all the time had spent in Gotham had never seen another ghost. Not a single one.

Which was unsettling on its own but not bad per se, he'd thought maybe this dimension was just different, not enough spectral energy to manifest a ghostly body.

But no, again nope, this was so much worse.

No ghosts was easy enough to reationalize but one ghost? One ghost meant there was enough spectral energy, one ghost meant something was really really wrong with Gotham.

Because if there was only one ghost in a crime ridden pissed off city like this where the shit were all the others?

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

Yo! Just wanted to say thank u for all the support on part 1, did not expect people to like or care about it lol. Anyway back on bullshit, I've had this written for a while but didn't have the insp to post it until now.

Might write more, might not, you get one bat cameo for reading this time ur welcome.

Forgot to add this to the first post, it's in the reblogs, but TLDR Curaré is an assassin from batman beyond.

Note: if you wanna see cool art for this AU check the Danny and the little dead girl tag on my blog!

[lackingspace]

Pernicious (Feyd-RauthaXReader)

Rated: M Word Count: 3.2K Summary: A summons from House Harkonnen is unlikely but never improbable.

Warnings: A lot of world-building and info dump like normal. Basically an OC, but reads like a xreader. Nothing until the Harkonnen show up, then bring on the violence.

Author Note: Hi, I've returned from the ether to drop this here. I watched Dune part II and they made Feyd a perfect little sociopath. Not my fault. ✧

AO3 link: Pernicious

Chapter 2: Admonish

The colds seeped in again.

The full body shiver emphasized that thought as the door slid fully open. The drop in temperature had slowly become noticeable as you walked closer to your lab. As you stood with the cold snaking through your dress all but sinking its fangs into your bones, there wasn't a question as to where it was coming from. 

Of course…of fucking course this happens today. This was just what you didn’t need. 

You had awoken in a foul mood. Cleo, your personal attendant, could attest to it by the scowl plastered to your lips and the curt responses you’d given. Breakfast had only made it worse. Your mother was a strain on your self-control normally, but today the addition of your aunt made the half hour you were stuck with them beyond grating. Their laughter and easy banter pulled giggles from the servants and mounting aggravation from you.

You’d decided during that unappetizing meal– staring at a serving of fruit and bread– that research was the best chance of a reset to your mood. To relax into your current fascination was the perfect escape. That had been the idea anyway. It seemed today was meant to be a trying one. A God somewhere must be laughing as they gazed down upon you.

Although you liked the lab colder than the rest of the compound, this was more than a downshift of a few degrees. Like stepping into an ice box the air was an assault on your senses. Warmth drained from your fingers before ice tried to claw its way up your arm and into your veins. Breathing turned into puffs of vaporous exhales as your lungs screamed in protest on your inhales. The type of cold that stung your eyes even without a breeze. Goosebumps made a home under the sleeves of your shawl.

Taking the first step inside had the lights flickering to life. Everything was the same as you'd left it. All equipment in its place, Petri dishes stacked neatly, specimen containers in the cryoseal locked tight, notes left open next to your microscope where your pen sat slightly askew. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself in hopes of conserving a little warmth, you gazed across the room. Nothing visibly screamed that someone had made a trespass into your sanctuary. Besides, there wasn't anyone with enough contempt to see your work ruined.

At least not anyone in current residence that you were aware of. Your family compound wasn't hosting any non-relatives and all other Ezharien knew not to come between you and your research. However, that observation was quickly followed by the thought, ‘Maybe it's stupidity instead of hate. There's certainly a few individuals capable of that.’

Jaw clenching as faces flashed behind your eyes. They'd essentially sign their death certificate if you found anyone had been messing about your lab. Not even cousin Josephine’s rank as Jarl's daughter would save her.

If it did come down to someone tampering with the room’s stabilizer, there was a specific nuisance that came to mind. 

Annoyance bubbled at the base of your skull as Yisella’s smiling face fluttered behind your eyes. Your mother's personal maid and your personal annoyance. Her lack of intelligence was only surmounted by her abundant compassion. 

She had the tendency to create problems for you where previously none existed– but you could concede her heart was always in the right place. 

The thought of her in your lab had an ache forming behind your eyes. Pinching the bridge of your nose to alleviate the building tension before it could evolve into a bigger problem as you thought of what kind of damage she’d do.

You could conceive a scenario where Yisella would leave a window open with the defense that you'd mentioned a cold lab has better working conditions. She would technically be right in that assumption. You did like a cold lab, better for specimen longevity, but this was a biting ache that dug too deep too quickly. It was detrimental to your own longevity. 

The other houses had a saying that ice was in Ezharien veins. But even we couldn't withstand the tundra forever. Not without proper equipment or protection. 

Yisella may not be a house member, but that wasn't any excuse. She was still Erifian. Not a tourist visiting the equatorial tropics. Every true-born Erifian knew that Erif IV’s tundra shouldn't be tested. 

It would always win.

That's why the first house rule was so simple. Secure the compound.

A window left open or a door unsecured could jeopardize the whole house's integrity. Yisella must have had that drilled into her. It was no secret that to serve a great house, at least the Ezhariens meant intense training. However, time and time again she'd proven that conventional wisdom escaped her.

A sweet idiot. With a sigh you dropped your hands to your side, but an idiot all the same. She's lucky mother is of the same ilk. 

Also lucky your lab didn’t have windows. 

Rubbing your hands up and down the cloth covering your arms for some sort of heat as you mused, ‘If the thermostabilizer isn't tampered with, then it's likely the geothermal compressor…again.’

Walking towards the far left wall where the stabilizer console hung. You half anticipated the readout would show a manual override of your set temperature. The digital console slowly blinked to life like it was made sluggish by the cold as well. After a moment the readout staring at you confirmed it wasn't Yisella who had tampered with your lab. 

The numbers were as you'd left it. Set to the standard temp, no overrides, only the ambient room temperature was concerning. Which meant that the compressor wasn't kicking on to compensate for the difference. It might not be Yisella's fault this time, but there was another imbecile to blame.

I told father the compressor should have been outright replaced, but did he listen? Another shiver racked your body as your brow pinched in annoyance. Your father's chiding refusal came back to you now. 

He'd been stern in his dismissal as he often tended to be with most things, “Daughter, cousin Hans is the technician, not you. If this were some medical issue I would defer to your opinion, but as it stands, yours holds no weight. If he's certain a replacement is wasted here– it is wasted.” 

Your eyes rolled at the memory, ‘Cousin would do well to watch his back from here on out.’ 

The longer you stayed in the room the deeper the icy tendrils sunk into you and the higher your contempt rose. 

It wouldn't do to sit here and freeze to death. You'd not give anyone the satisfaction of such an embarrassing death. In only a thin dress and shawl you'd need to remedy it with layers. Moving back towards the entrance there was a cubby that served as a storage area. 

You'd left thicker blankets, shawls, coats, and coverings for emergencies. Grabbing a thicker coat you slipped it on and eyed the few thermalheaters that typically saw no use. You couldn't remember if you'd ever used them in this room before.

Eyes narrowed as you grab one of the two small dusky orange orbs. Your fingers pressed against the tremellose casing as the hard inner machinery pressed back. It was gelid on your already frozen hand, but the thermal liquid still swirled beneath the surface.

Pursing your lips as you clicked the series of hidden buttons to turn the device on. A silent promise arose in the back of your mind as the orb began to glow. ‘If cousin is also wrong about these being enough to heat this space, the next time he's floundering at an inter-house banquet…’

You made a clicking noise with your tongue as the small device began to quickly heat in your palm before it lifted and slowly hovered around the room. Bending down to grip the second device and click it to life.

‘I'll let him choke.’

Straighten up, you watched the two orbs slowly dance around the space. The gentle pulses they radiated were divine but nowhere near a comfortable temperature. There wasn't much more to do than wait and hope. You couldn't call anyone for repairs at the moment and you didn't feel like heading back to your rooms.

Even if you’d wanted to place a repair request you couldn’t. Father was the only one with that power. Unless an emergency, which this situation didn’t qualify as, House Creed stated that repairs were something only the head of each family compound could request. 

Supposedly a way to avoid bogging down the system with unnecessary requests. So nothing could be done as father had joined the Jarl for a logistics meeting. Luckily it was only a day trip and he'd be back in time for the family meal. So you'd wait.

Walking towards the desk your notebook sat upon, you pulled out the stool before taking a seat. Thankfully it was covered in black cloth making the cold less biting than naked metal would have been. Pulling your coat tighter, you flipped through the pages before settling a few entries before your last.

It'd been only two days since you were here, but brushing up on your train of thought wouldn't hurt. As long as the room continued to heat it might even be pleasant.

It must have been half an hour or so before the room was up to a reasonable warmth. Comfortable enough that you deemed it safe to remove specimens from the cryoseal chamber and began your observation.

It wasn't much longer after you'd placed the first slide beneath the microscope that the door to the lab opened. Quickly following the sound of steps was the scent of pleniscenta. It assaulted your senses with its exotic floral fragrance. There was only one person in your compound who wore that.

Without pulling away from the scope you asked, “Yes, Desil?” 

The gasp he let out was likely less to do with your educated guess and more to do with the temperature of the room. “My lady, you'll catch your death sitting in this chill.” The temperature of the room indeed.

Adjusting the lens magnification while answering, “The thermalheaters are doing their job well enough. I'll be fine.” You could hear the frown in his response, “Your father is going to take issue with this.” You do love starting a conversation with a not-so-hidden scolding. 

Rolling your eyes was the safest response as they were hidden from view. You'd have snorted if it wouldn't be deemed unladylike and damnable by present company, “And how would he know? Oh, that's right. Nothing escapes your daily report.” Watching the cells squirm as they reacted to the substance you’d injected. A few began to shrivel and succumb to death, “Tell me, will it be before or after you counsel Father on the best method to reprimand my poor attitude?” 

A mix of a chortle and huff quickly followed your question. The sound full of his dismay and exasperation, “My lady, you well know that daily reports are expected in your father's absence.” A noncommittal hum left you, “And you do love not to disappoint him.”

If you'd bothered to look up, you'd have been graced with Desil pinching the bridge of his nose, “I take pride in looking out for the Ezharien name. That means detailing your stubbornness is well within my right.” You heard him step forward, deeper into the room, “As is checking whatever humor you find yourself in, lest it reflect poorly on your house.” 

He wasn't wrong either. As much as you'd like to argue Desil was a good aide. From the outside, he may appear to be just another servant, but his position gave him unique privileges. One of which is the ability to speak freely. 

If anyone asked your opinion on the matter, he took far too much pleasure in censuring you. But that could be your earlier irritation talking.

To be fair, if he'd cared to ask, you would admit your mood was soured which had your patience abnormally thin and tongue loosened. It was probably best to avoid whatever interaction was to take place if he didn’t want a verbal spar. 

If he wasn't family, you'd be more guarded, but he was family and you were annoyed.

His tongue clicked in a tutting rebuke, “I really must ask that you return to your rooms until repairs can be slated, or have you given so little thought to your health?” 

That kindled your earlier annoyance back to life full force. Sparking it as quickly as if he'd struck a match to paper. You would take his chiding on your attitude, your choice of words, or even your manner. You likely deserved it. But you wouldn't stand him questioning your judgment about this. He knew you well enough to know your triggers.

“Remind me,” Jaw clenching as you finally lifted your gaze from the magnified slide to catch the eyes of your father's personal aide. Tilting your head as you tried for calm, but the tone was too tight to be convincing, “Are you a Suk?” 

His dusky olive complexion paled at your question. Sharp green eyes widened as his thin mouth dropped open, “I-I…I only meant tha-'' cutting him off with a raised hand. Your lack of patience couldn't take a sputtering rant, gaze turning flatter, while uttering a sharp call of his name, “Desil.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times in quick succession. Worry hung heavy on his brow. Visibly swallowing before he quietly muttered, “No, my lady. A Suk, I am not.” 

Lowering your hand to the pen that sat on your notebook, “I thought not.” 

Willing yourself to relax was more difficult than necessary. Neither your clenched jaw nor the irrational anger wanted to release their grip. Having your medical opinion questioned was always a surefire way to get under your skin. He was very much aware of your pet peeves at this point.

Desil was detail-oriented, he was good at tactfully phrasing things, and he had a gift for negotiation. It's why your father favored him for the 30-odd years he'd been in the position. Longer than you'd been alive. At this point, he was more family than many of your blood cousins. 

Holding a breath before slowly releasing it was your attempt to save Desil from your bite. It was another moment before you pointedly said, “The thermalheaters will do fine for now.” 

The tentative acceptance looked more like defeat on his features. His own jaw clenched before he countered, “As you say…” the look on his face said he had more to add as he continued, “But Sir Malakar will be unhappy with this either way.” 

Eyes narrowing at his response, “Unhappy?” Annoyance coated your tone and a smile that was more of a snarl tugged at your lips. A barbed quip was on the tip of your tongue, a seething retort that was dying to let out your frustration, but Desil’s worried eyes gave you pause. 

Taking another deep breath willing yourself to remain civil– that Desil wasn't the source of your irritation and although he was being a nag, he didn't deserve the venom that wanted an easy victim.

There was another moment of silence before you wrangled your anger enough to reply. Snarl settling down into a strained smile with a clipped tone, “Kindly advise my father that the next time I say a compressor needs replacing, he take my advice instead of our spice-addled cousin.”

The sigh Desil released was more relief than anything. His shoulders dropped and the worry that'd pinched his brow lessened, “ I will remind him as you say. But please keep the remarks of your cousin's proclivities to a minimum. It's unbecoming.” 

Tilting your head and clicking your tongue at him before you answered, “Did you need something? Or was the chance to grate on my nerves your only reason to seek me out?” He shook his head, but the curled edges of his lips spoke of amusement.

You turned back to the table and picked up your discarded pen. Jotting down a few of your previous observations as you waited for a response. Desil was ruffling around his pockets before he began to walk closer, “you received a message-capsule.”

Your brow raised, but your gaze stayed locked on your notes as you continued to write, “What does it say?” His footsteps paused and your patience couldn't take another round of banter so you beat him to the chase. Eyes rolling as you spoke, “I know you read my messages and report to my father. Yes, yes, I'm sure it's something he requested, so just tell me what it says.”

The silence stretched before he answered in a quiet voice, “It's sealed. I thought it better you be the first to read it.” 

Your pen paused on the page. Now that was interesting. “Oh?” Sealed missives were generally only for official house communications. Only the head title bearer of each great house held a seal. For the Ezharien, that was your uncle, the Jarl. 

As far as you were aware there wasn't any scheduled event that you should be expecting an invitation to. If the message was addressed to you specifically that meant it wasn't a generalized request for assistance from Ezharien as a whole. This was likely personal, but if there was an occasion of special significance, generally an heir debutante, you might receive a personal invite. There were too many houses for you to remember who and when they were set to debut.

Desil's voice cut through your thoughts, “It bares the Harkonnen seal.”

Your pen pressed deeper into the page as your grip tightened, “Fuck.” 

It spoke volumes of Desil's own anxiety that he didn't chastise your language. If the Harkonnen were seeking you out in particular this was personal. And personal with the Harkonnen’s was…difficult at best.

Official Ezharien relations between houses typically remained neutral. Better for the tourist business that'd established Erif IVs economy. We didn’t enter dealings that could ostracize one house or another.

The Harkonnen tended to make things less neutral. 

The Baron had mastered staying within proper interhouse etiquette– barely. As an outside observer, it could even be considered impressive how he navigated the political sphere. Being put into his crosshair directly? It was an inconvenience at best and deadly at worst. If the missive wasn't some forgery, which there was little chance of to begin with, there was only one logical reason for it.

The small inked diamond on your forehead. 

The cylinder came into view as Desil placed it next to your frozen hand, “I feel it pertinent that you open it.” Your joints protested but finally unlocked as the momentary shock wore off. Grasping it with numb fingers you broke the ram-headed seal and your eyes swept over its sparse contents. 

“I have need of your skills. Come to Giedi Prime.” 

If the seal wasn't enough to convince you of the missive's authenticity, the signature of Vladimir Harkonnen was. No one impersonated the Baron. In their right mind or heavily spiced— if one wished to continue breathing, that was a forgery you declined. Besides, you weren't important enough for that kind of trouble. 

Desil stood watching you. Hands nervously wringing together, “Well?”

With a sigh you held out the cylinder to him, “It seems the Baron calls me to Giedi Prime.”

The Gods really were laughing.

[lightneverfades]

Frostiron AU (Loki: Season 2) | What if Loki time-slips to a point in time when Tony is still alive?

Part I / Part II / Part III

This is an AU where Loki and Tony were both in a relationship before the whole 2012 events of Avengers (which caused a major schism in their relationship). This Loki never had a chance to apologise before he is brought to the TVA, then told of Tony's inevitable fixed fate in Avengers: End Game.

Mini fic below!

BEFORE

"Tony Stark sacrificed his life--," Mobius spoke, and the bearded man continued to speak about Tony's achievements and inevitable fate, but all Loki could hear were the last words he had uttered to Tony out of pure spite on the open balcony of Stark Tower.

"I never loved you, Stark. You were merely a tool to help me ascend to my true throne!"

It was all a lie, and yet that had been the single most effective lie he had ever said to Stark. The look of anguish that had contorted Tony's features had already been hard to watch, but the overlap of pain that had later dimmed the usual glimmer in Tony's eyes had been what left Loki feeling utterly broken and guilty inside. And yet, in spite of all that agony, Loki had gone along with the Chitauri's plans, their influence on him too strong to resist as he destroyed everything in his path and hurt the one person he held dear.

Stark... Loki thought as he gazed at the TVA recording room wall with an overwhelming sense of numbness, the cold seeping through his blood and within his bones.

I never got a chance to say goodbye.

And he never would, because the TVA had stolen that chance from him.

NOW

Ripped, torn, shredded and rebuilt in a few seconds was not an ordinary sensation one felt in a lifetime, and having experienced this more than once, Loki had assumed he was going to travel back and forth from the past to the present within the boundaries of the TVA. He had braced himself for the next one when he felt a particularly large set of invisible claws suddenly pierce his back, ensnaring him once more within its clutches as his feet slipped, his back tugged so forcefully that his head also snapped back, his body being swung and then pulled like a ragdoll. A small cry barely left his lips before his body was pushed right back onto solid ground, his impeccable balance the only thing keeping him from toppling over outright.

Loki barely had a chance to look around his surroundings and get his bearings before he heard a voice.

"Loki?"

Tony's voice echoed, and Loki's whole body froze on the spot as the dizziness subsided somewhat.

Loki tried to speak, but he couldn't as he found himself staring at Tony, utter shock stealing any words or thoughts that Loki had. He was alive. Tony Stark... was alive!

And just as quickly as his body was recovering from the pull of the time slip, Loki felt the awful tug grabbing ahold of his neck, an invisible assailant unwilling to let him go. Panic raced through his blood as he realized he was being pulled back, and taken away again. But damn if he was going to leave without saying anything.

"Stark, I'm sorry for everythi-!"

That was all Loki could manage before his voice crackled away like a broken speaker, a single tear slipping and then vaporizing into the air as his physical atoms were ripped and pulled in all directions.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 48

The Eleventh Doctor and the Fifteenth Doctor once worked together in an attempt to free a woman named Nora Wicker from a time bubble, but before they could do so, Nora confided in the Eleventh and told him she wished to stay. (Audio: The World Tree)

The first alien planet Rose went to was Justice Alpha. Before that, she had only been to space stations and ships. (Novel: The Monsters Inside)

The Eleventh Doctor keeps the Second's recorder in his pocket sometimes. (Novel: Shroud of Sorrow)

Chad Boyle frequently tormented Ace as a child. At one point, he almost hit her with a brick, but he was stopped by an older version of Ace. If he had hit the younger Ace, he would have killed her. (Novel: Timewyrm: Revelation)

There are several academic cities on Gallifrey, including Prydos, Patrexi, and Arcalia. (Novel: The Garden of Evil)

The Oldharbour Clock is a really old clock near the Capitol on Gallifrey. It is intricately decorated with little figures that dance with every chime of the hour. These figures, however, gained sentience and are actually the most intelligent beings on the entire planet. (Novel: The Infinity Doctors)

Lake Abydos on Gallifrey is home to singing fish. Romana's family spent a lot of time here, and she used to swim in the water when she was young. (Audio: Neverland)

After being resurrected, the Celestial Intervention Agency allowed the Master to read up on the Doctor’s past, making him aware of what happened to Lucie, Tamsin, and Alex. (Audio: Masterplan) This also means the Master is probably aware of any major events in the Doctor’s life from before that time as well.

The Doctor once saved Peter Capaldi from a Mandrel and Peter Davison from a Krynoid. (Comic: The Girl Who Loved Doctor Who)

The Eleventh Doctor said that the TARDIS has a GPS with the voice of Davros. (Audio: Trouble in Paradise)

Leela had a sister named Ennia, who was killed by Horda at three years old before Leela was born. Their mother killed the Horda with a knife, the same one Leela carries. (Novel: Eye of Heaven)

Ophiuchus was a Time Lord healer who managed to overcome the regeneration cycle limit on thirteen incarnations. For this, the High Council declared him a renegade, claiming that he had to do things such as vivisection to extend the lives of Gallifreyan criminals. (Comic: Ophiuchus)

Some Time Tots keep rovies as pets. (Audio: No Place Like Home)

Susan was 97 when she applied to Coal Hill School. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

Jane Templeton was a trainee Time Lord attending the Academy. She got stranded in Ancient Egypt and lost her TARDIS, which had taken on the appearance of a shabti figure. By the time she found her TARDIS, she was in her thirteenth incarnation, and her TARDIS was so degraded that the Seventh Doctor said it should be euthanized, which would involve flying it into the heart of a star. Since she had impersonated the god Thoth, she was guilty of class 2 intervention, the punishment for which is vaporization. Instead of letting the Doctor save her, she slipped into her own TARDIS and died with it. (Audio: False Gods)

First 1 Prev 47 Next 49

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Dangerously in Love (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 28 Alt 8. Kidnapping Fandom: MCU, Frank Castle, The Punisher, f!reader Summary: After witnessing your murder on a video call, Frank's only focus is on revenge. But he's about to learn that things are not always as they seem... Word Count: 4389 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Grief, Fighting, Blood, Gun Fight, Minor Character Death, Frank Carries Reader, Happy Ending Notes: Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Part 5 of the “In Love” series

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

It had taken Frank three days and a trail of bodies in his wake, but he had finally located where Costa had streamed from. 

He had barely stopped since the moment he had left your—his—apartment and only to grab a handful of food or a few hours of sleep to keep up his strength for what was coming. Not that it would have made a difference if he tried to get a full night’s sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your terrified, tear-soaked face pleading with him before hearing the deafening bang of the gun and your blood spraying as the camera cut out. While he hadn’t actually seen the damage that the bullet had done to you, he had seen enough bullet wounds in his life for his brain to fill in the blanks. And when that happened, he would jerk awake with tears streaming down his face.

After Maria and their children were murdered, Frank had sworn never to allow himself to care for someone like that again. It was too dangerous…he was too dangerous. And yet, all of that flew out the window the moment he met you. 

He tried to keep his walls up, to keep you out, but you quickly burst through them all as if they were made of vapor. And when you found out about the Punisher and who he really was yet still accepted him, it was over. Frank’s bullet-riddled heart began to beat again and it was all because of you.

You. The girl who would make fun of herself a hundred times over before ever saying a word against anyone else. The girl who couldn’t cook to save her life but still continuously put in a valiant effort. The girl who hid under a blanket during horror movies or gagged at the slightest scene with gore, yet pulled out the first aid kit without hesitation when he came home dripping in blood. 

He knew the risks, he knew the danger, but he also knew he couldn’t live without you in his life. But now that danger had caught up to you and he had lost you anyway. At least if he had kept his distance you would be out there somewhere living your life happy with someone else—not shot to death in a warehouse while you were alone and terrified.

As Frank approached that same warehouse now, he thought back to your last kiss just before he sent you off to stay with Red. At the time, he had promised you it wasn’t goodbye, that he would come back to you. Yet even though he knew there was a very good chance it was a lie, he never expected you to be the one not coming home.

Looking around, he was surprised to find there weren’t any men standing guard by the main entrance or on the rooftop. He remained on high alert, but crossed the empty lot to the front door and kicked it in. When no one opened fire or swarmed him, he ducked inside.

It appeared the warehouse had been abandoned for a while. Even though he could faintly hear the churning hum of a generator somewhere below him, it must only be for the lights since there didn’t seem to be any sort of air conditioner or fans in the building. But that made sense. Costa must have known Frank would come for him after what he did, and it was better for Frank to locate one of his temporary bases of operation instead of his main headquarters. 

Without slowing, he rubbed his face on the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes as it poured down his brow. He continued through the warehouse—gun raised—as he scanned for any traces of Costa, even though so far it seemed as if he wasn’t here. But Frank wasn’t going to stop looking until he made sure. He wasn’t going to stop hunting him down until Costa lay dead at his feet.

However, when he reached the door at the end of the hall and threw it open, he stumbled to a halt as his heart froze in his chest.

It was the same room he had seen from the video call—barren concrete walls, a single light hanging down from the middle of the room, and a metal chair with your lifeless body still strapped to it. 

All of the air was instantly sucked from Frank’s lungs and his knees went weak. 

He hovered by the door, unable to make his feet take a single step closer to your limp form. He swallowed—hard—as tears stung at his eyes. It had never crossed his mind that he might find you here. He assumed Costa would have dumped your body somewhere it would never be found or incinerated it. Maybe Costa thought having Frank see you like this, to face what had happened in person, would throw him off his game. If that was the plan, it was succeeding. Seeing your violent death over video had been one thing, but finding your long cold corpse days later—

Wait. Something wasn’t right here.

You had been left in this dank, humid room for the past three days. He should have been greeted by the putrid smell of rot and decay as soon as he opened the door but instead, he only sensed the metallic bite of fresh blood. Blood that should have long since dried and lost its potency. Yet he could see the dark red pool beneath your chair was still wet—it was recent. 

Frank stumbled forward as if in a trance. It couldn’t be. He watched you die…hadn’t he? He saw the gun go off, a spray of blood, and your head snapped back—but he never saw the aftermath. Not really. The feed had gone black a second after the gun went off. Was there a chance?

The closer he got to where you were tied, the harder it was to look at you. You were still wearing his hoodie that you had been wearing in the video so it covered most of your skin. However, what was showing was littered with bruises and cuts of various sizes, layers of blood coating most of your visible skin as it had dried and been coated once more. The top layer still looked damp in some places, the color more vibrant and shiny in the dim light, and Frank silently prayed for a miracle. 

He hesitated as he reached you, knowing that the tiny flicker of hope he was allowing himself to feel could be instantly extinguished the second he touched you.  The air around him was deathly still as if the room itself was holding its breath waiting for an answer. He sank to kneel at your feet, as if you were some holy miracle he was prepared to worship. Unable to wait any longer, Frank slowly reached out and placed two fingers against the side of your throat.

For a moment, he felt nothing. Just your cool, clammy skin beneath his fingers, and his heart began to sink. But then—

Just as he felt the first weak thump of your pulse, your eyes slowly flickered open. Your gaze was glassy and unfocused but there was a small spark of recognition as you stared at the man kneeling before you. Your tongue ran briefly over your cracked, bloody lips before you weakly rasped, “-ank?”

Frank’s eyes grew wide as he clutched at your face, his fingers tangling deeply in your hair as he tried to convince himself you were real. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s me. Oh god. I thought I’d lost you.” He fought back the tears that were building behind his eyes as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours.

You flinched as he shifted you and for the first time, he noticed the blood-soaked wrapping across your shoulder. Unlike the rest of your injuries, this one seemed more severe yet cared for and, if he had to guess, was probably where the bullet from the video call had struck you instead of the head as he had been led to believe. It was still a dire injury, yet he still felt a wave of relief flood over him. A shoulder wound you could heal from; a headshot was another story.

He stayed with his head pressed against yours, reveling in the fact you were alive and he had found you. Then he pulled back to gaze into your eyes. 

However, where he thought he would see joy or excitement, there was only terror. Slowly—painfully—you began moving your lips as you tried to tell him something but nothing came out except a hoarse exhale.

“Shhh. You don’t have to say anything,” Frank murmured softly as he rubbed his thumb gently across your cheekbone. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m gonna get you outta here and bring you home to get some help.”

But you shook your head, the fear only intensifying in your eyes as you struggled to get your message across. Finally, you took a deep breath and managed to rasp out your message, “–’s a trap…Run.” 

Before Frank could process what you had said, the door to the room slammed open and dozens of armed men rushed into the room. Frank sprang to his feet and tried to put himself between these newcomers and you, but they quickly surrounded the two of you. 

“Well, look what we have here. Mr. Castle, we’ve been expecting you.” Costa chuckled cruelly as he walked through the door. “Although truthfully, I thought you would have been here a lot sooner. Three days is a long time to make your girlfriend wait with no food and very little water, especially when she is losing so much blood.”

“You bastard,” Frank growled as he stepped towards Costa, but he stopped as all of the soldiers around you raised their guns.

Costa’s grin widened. “Uh, uh, uh…I would be careful, Mr. Castle. One wrong move and my men open fire.”

“I can take it,” Frank said, stalking forward.

“I’m sure you can. Which is why not a single gun in this room is aimed at you.”

Frank froze in his tracks before glancing around the room. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Costa was right. Every gun was raised and they were all pointed directly at where you were still tied to the chair behind him. 

Turning, he locked eyes with you and it was clear you had noticed this as well. And yet, the fear that he had seen in your eyes the last time he had looked at you was gone, and in its place was a sort of calm acceptance. You gave him a small smile as you nodded and mouthed, “It’s okay. Go.” 

Frank’s heart swelled. Even after everything this bastard had done to you these past three days, you were still putting his safety above your own. God, how he loved you.

Costa laughed at the tender silent exchange between the two of you. “Oh, is this not precious? You know, she never once lost faith you’d come save her. She said you promised you’d come back and you never broke a promise. Every time one of my men came to check on her or to torture her, she insisted we’d all pay when you found her. Too bad her faith in you was so misguided.” He held up a finger and the men surrounding you all cocked their guns. “Just a word of advice, Mr. Castle that you will never have a chance to learn from: When you try storming the hideout of a known crimelord, don’t try doing it alone. You will always be vastly outnumbered.”

Frank raised his head and looked Costa dead in the eye as his lips curled into a knowing grin. “Who says I’m alone?”

Costa’s smile dropped just as the room was plunged into complete darkness. Frank immediately pivoted and dove towards the spot where he remembered your chair being. His aim was off slightly, but he still managed to grab the edge of the seat as he fell and he pulled it down to the floor with him. And just in time.

“Shoot them!” Costa’s voice rang out through the darkness. He was so focused on not letting you or Frank get away that he did not consider what he had just commanded his men to do.

Following their direct orders as they had been trained to do, Costa’s men opened fire. Bullets whizzed through the air over your heads, and Frank scrambled to cover you with his body as best as he could. You hadn’t made a sound since the lights went off, but Frank felt your hand weakly wrap itself into the fabric of his shirt, giving him a sign you were still with him.   

As the bullets continued to fly above you, cries of pain and heavy thuds began to fill the room. Quickly, those sounds became more frequent while the sounds of gunfire grew less and less. When the lights flickered back on, Frank saw that only a handful of men—including Costa—were left standing. All the rest were lying motionless on the floor where they were hit by the bullets from the men across from them. 

Glancing down, Frank saw you nestled safely under him with your eyes closed and your fingers still curled in his shirt. When you started to peek one eye open, Frank placed his hand over them. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Keep ‘em closed until I tell you to.”

He moved his hand to see you had followed his instructions—and just in time.

Frank felt the barrel of a gun dig into the back of his head. Slowly, he raised his hands. 

“Get to your feet,” Costa growled from behind him.

Slowly, Frank did as he was ordered. Your eyes remained closed, but he felt your grip on his shirt tighten. Carefully, he eased himself back until you were forced to let go, then he rose to his feet. Turning, he faced Costa, the gun still pressed against his skull. 

The mob boss’s face was deep red and a prominent vein in his forehead throbbed. “You just cost me a lot of men,” he snarled, spit flying from his lips and hitting Frank in the face. “I think it’s time we finally say goodbye, Mr. Castle. Tell your family I send my regards.”

Costa stepped back, his gun pointed at the center of Frank’s head. But just before he could pull the trigger, something flew from the hallway and struck his hand, causing him to drop the gun as he cursed loudly. Costa looked down at the red billy club lying next to his gun on the floor then raised his head just in time to see a red-clad figure with a horned helmet burst into the room. 

About damn time.

Frank grinned as he watched Costa stumble backward at the sight of Red ducking and dodging as he lay blow after blow on his remaining men. Using this momentary distraction, Frank charged forward and wrenched the gun from Costa’s hand. The other man’s eyes grew wide and he started to beg for mercy, but Frank didn’t deal in mercy—he dealt in punishment.

Pointing the barrel of the gun between Costa’s eyes, Frank growled, “I’ll see you in Hell.” And he pulled the trigger.

Costa’s head exploded as his body crumpled to the floor. Wiping blood and brain matter from his face, Frank turned to see Red knocking out the last of Costa’s men. 

As the vigilante turned towards him, he sighed. “Frank, you promised if I helped, there’d be no killing.”

Frank threw the gun to the floor as he snapped, “Yeah well, tell that to my wife and kids who he had murdered or my girlfriend—your friend—he left to waste away as bait tied to that chair.”

Red pressed his lips into a tight line but didn’t say anything. Frank knew this discussion wasn’t over but he was grateful Red was willing to leave it alone for the time being. There was a much more important matter that needed to be attended to at the moment.

Hurrying over to where you lay on the floor still tied down, Frank carefully righted the chair and cupped your cheek, tilting your head to get a better look at your face. Your skin was littered with bruises and cuts in various stages of healing, and your bottom lip was split wide. Your eyes were still closed just as Frank had instructed you to do.

Glancing at Red, he asked, “Is she gonna be alright?”

Red placed his hand on the side of your neck just below your jaw. He cocked his head slightly as he listened for a moment, then sighed. “Her heartbeat’s weak and parts of her body are shutting down.” He turned his head towards Frank. “It’s really bad, but if she gets help soon, I think she’ll be okay.”

Frank felt the tightness in his chest lessen slightly. At least there was a chance. 

As Red dropped his hand, your eyes fluttered open. Surprised to see the other man with Frank, you asked, “M-Matt…?”

Red grinned sadly down at you. “Hey. Long time no see.”

You exhaled softly in a poor attempt at a laugh but then your lip began to quiver. “—’m sorry…shouldn’ta left…”

Red placed his hand on your uninjured shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “No, it’s my fault too. I knew you wanted to be with Frank and I should’ve kept a better eye on you.” He paused and tilted his head “...That one wasn’t actually supposed to be a joke.”

“You two can pass around all the blame you want once we get outta here,” Frank grumbled before you could try to muster up another response. “Costa might have backup arriving at any minute.”

He wiped his hands on his pants to clean off as much blood as possible. Then he pulled out his knife and cut your bonds. Now unconfined, your body slumped limply in the seat until Frank gingerly lifted you up. 

You felt so delicate and frail in his arms. As if you would snap in half with the slightest pressure. Your breathing was still very labored and ragged but no matter how Frank repositioned you, nothing seemed to help. 

Moaning softly, you muttered, “Frank…?”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe. Get some rest, sweetheart.”

You nodded into his chest just before your body went limp in his arms. It seemed as if the trauma from the last few days had finally caught up to you and now that you were safe, your body and mind finally allowed you some peace.

Staring down at your broken body as you still struggled for each breath, Frank felt tears begin to silently stream down his face, and for once he was glad that Red couldn’t see him. However, by the way those red lenses were locked onto him, he had a feeling the vigilante knew exactly what was happening. As Frank passed by him as he held open the front door of the warehouse, Red’s hand shot out and grabbed Frank’s arm. 

Giving it a tight squeeze, he said, “It’s over, Frank. You saved her and she’s going to be okay.”

Yanking his arm from Red’s grasp, he growled, “We both know for her, this will never be over and I doubt she’ll ever really be okay again.”

Without another word or even a glance in his direction, Frank stalked through the warehouse and out the exit. It was time to get you home.

When Frank got you back to your shared apartment, Claire was already there waiting for you. Red must have called her on the way. Frank was used to tending to his own injuries, not someone else’s so as much as he preferred to handle things on his own, he was grateful for the help. 

He was also grateful Claire didn’t mention the destroyed living room that Frank had left after thinking you had been killed. In all honestly, once he killed Costa, Frank had never planned to return to your apartment. It was too painful imagining living here without you, surrounded by the memories of what was and the dreams of what might have been. Yet now that he knew you were alive, he was going to have to clean up his mess. But for now, he carried you into the bedroom and laid you down on your bed.

Claire tended to your gunshot and your various other injuries. Then she hooked you up to an IV to replenish your fluids and help fight off any infections you might have gotten in sitting in that sweltering warehouse for days. Then she gave Frank a bottle of extra-strength pain medication and told him to give it to you as needed. She promised to check back in after her shift at the hospital and she left. 

Several hours later, you were fast asleep but Frank could see it wasn’t a peaceful one. Your jaw was clenched tightly beneath a furrowed brow and your right hand clutched at the sheets, twisting them tightly into your fist. Every so often, you would let out a soft whimper or your breathing would momentarily become more ragged. And at one point, tears began slipping down your cheeks.

Frank watched it all from his chair next to the bed, the stabbing ache in his chest growing stronger with each passing moment. He had helped you into a fresh tank top after Claire finished patching you up. As you shifted, the blankets slipped down revealing more skin and Frank noticed more injuries he hadn’t seen when you were wearing his hoodie. You hadn’t said a word about what they did to you, but Frank had seen enough injuries like these to get a pretty good picture. And while some would heal completely, the deeper ones would never truly fade. You would have to carry these scars as a permanent reminder of how he had failed to protect you. 

“I found the perfect wedding dress.”

Startled, Frank’s head jerked up to see your eyes now opened and a soft smile on your face. “What?”

Patting the empty spot on the bed next to you, you said, “I looked online while I was at Matt’s place.”

Frank chuckled as he climbed into the bed and placed his arm behind your head. “You were there for less than a day and you found one?”

You nodded, snuggling your face into his chest. “The second I saw it I knew. It was the one I wanted to marry you in.” You paused, then added, “Just like at that moment I knew I didn’t want to be apart from you, no matter how much danger I might be in.”

So…it was time for this conversation.

Frank sighed, “Sweetheart—”

But you cut him off. “No, Frank. I know what you’re gonna say. But it was my fault, not yours. You sent me away someplace you knew I’d be safe. And I would have been—if I had stayed. But I came back—knowing the risks—because I love you and couldn’t stay away. So everything that’s happened is all because of me and my decisions. Not yours.”

“But you wouldn’t have ever needed to be sent away to keep you safe if you weren’t with me,” Frank countered.

“Maybe. But any life without you in it isn’t one I want to live.” You pressed your lips against the bare skin of his neck. “So if that means I’m put in danger from time to time, it’s a cost I’m willing to pay.” 

“What if I’m not willing to pay for my happiness with your life? Because that’s what might happen one of these days if you stay. As bad as this was, we were lucky. Next time, we might not be.”

Sighing, you sat up and stared at him, your lips pressed together in a frustrated line. “Frank, do you realize that everything you’re feeling right now—all this dread and uncertainty and heart-stopping terror that something might happen to me—that’s what I feel every single time you walk out the door as The Punisher. I never know when I kiss you goodbye if that will be the last time I ever see you alive. But I never try to stop you. I just sit here patiently and pray you’ll walk back through that door to give me another kiss. And yes, this life you’ve chosen is dangerous for the both of us. But are you telling me that you aren’t willing to deal with those same feelings you put me through on a weekly basis in order to be with me?”

“Well, fuck, sweetheart,” Frank muttered looking down at his hands. “When you put it like that, it’d be pretty selfish of me to say no, huh?”

“Exactly.” Placing your finger under his chin, you tilted his head up until he was looking at you. The adoration in your gaze made the last lingering doubts about whether or not he should stay vanish. As you stroked his cheek, you cooed, “And if I know one thing about you, Frank Castle, it’s that you are one of the most selfless men I know. And I love you with everything in me.”

Frank leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than I ever thought possible. And if you’re sure this life of danger is what you want, then you can buy that wedding dress tomorrow.”

“Too late,” you giggled, wrapping your good arm around Frank’s neck in a half-hug. “I already ordered it while you were in the shower.”

Frank shook his head with a soft chuckle. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Marry me,” you said with complete seriousness. “Then we’ll have the rest of our lives together to figure out what comes next.”

Frank pulled you down—carefully minding all of your injuries—so you were lying on top of him. As he felt your eyelashes flutter closed against his bare chest, he murmured, “That’s exactly what we’ll do. I promise.” He pressed his lips against the top of your head. “And have I ever broken my promise?”

Taglist: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @ohtobeleah

@foli-vora, @lucyysthings, @tavners, @merlehs,

@sunshineflowerchild789, @myguiltypleasures21, @androah,

@imreading,  @arduadastra, @infinitelydreamingx, @weallhaveadestiny, @dreamcatcher121, 

@andromacher, @assemblemotherfuckers

[lkfarrout]

What Happened Last Summer (18+) Chapter 1

My first fic guys! (I'm gonna throw up I'm so nervous)

Read Chapter 2 next!

This is the first chapter out of probaby 10 or more and I plan to post a chapter a day. Takes place the summer after the show does, and introduces an OC/love interest for Stan named Kathy :)))

There is some mild sexual content, so I will be marking the whole series as 18+. There is some light angst, arguments, etc. This series really could be titled "Stanley Pines is forced to actually talk about his feelings for once in his life"

Enjoy! Press 'keep reading' for the fic

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack,” the redhead at the counter was less than enthusiastic – she barely bothered to glance up from her magazine. Kathy lingered at the counter and studied the interior of the store. The walls were covered in shelves of bizarre amalgamations of animal parts, interspersed with hats and t-shirts and a few hand-painted signs that said “No Refunds”.  A few customers browsed the items, including an older man in a light blue Hawaiian shirt eyeing a treat inside the vending machine.

“Could I talk to your boss, Soos, if he isn't busy?” 

The girl looked at the clock, then back down at her reading, and said “He’s finishing a tour right now. What do you need?”

Kathy dug around in her bag. “I’m new in town, just reopened the motel. I was wondering if I could leave some business cards here?” 

At that, the man at the vending machine spun around.

“Actually, I’m the owner of this fine establishment.” He leaned an elbow on the counter and proudly gestured around the room. Suddenly, she found her hand in his and he shook it firmly. “Stan Pines – original Mr. Mystery.” His rough, but confident voice echoed through the giftshop.

Kathy tried to meet his eyes but instead found herself staring at the open collar of his shirt. A gold chain poked through a bit of hair that matched the thick silver stands on his head. 

“Sorry,” she began with a small laugh, “I thought you were a customer.”

“I guess you could say I’m retired,” he replied, gesturing to a $15 bobble-head of a man in a black suit and fez. Kathy could sort of see the resemblance, especially the nose. “But I’m not too old to recognize a good business opportunity!” He grabbed the cards from her other hand and studied them. Gravity Falls Twin Bed Motel - now under new management. Open Friday -Monday. He flipped it over to find a name and a phone number. Katherine Phillips, owner. 

“Lovely to meet ya, Katherine. Welcome to town.” He shook her hand again.

“Thank you Stan, but you can call me Kathy,” she replied.

“I’ll strike a deal with you, Kathy. I’ll hand out your business cards if you take some of these,” he handed her a stack of bumper stickers, “and send a few people this way.”

“That’s exactly what I had in mind.” She threw the stickers in her bag. “I look forward to working with you. See you around, Stan” Then, Kathy did something stupid – she winked at him. She wasn’t entirely sure why, other than it seemed that this man’s charisma was rubbing off on her. As soon as she winked, however, every drop of charisma, every minute of sales experience, every cool, casual part of Stan instantly vaporized. A slight pink tinge flooded his cheeks and he cleared his throat into his fist. 

“Yeah, I’ll see ya around.” He watched her walk out the door, then watched her get in her car, then watched her drive off. Before he knew it a hand was waving in front of his face.

“Mr. Pines?”

“Huh?” He shook himself out of it. “Oh, Soos.”

“I see you met Kathy.” Soos nudged Stan with his elbow.

“You know her?”

“She hired my grandma to clean motel rooms – real nice lady. And close to your age too, Mr. Pines.”

Stan considered this information, and started fiddling with the stack of business cards. “What are ya sayin’?”

“Well, you know, ever since I met Melody, I’m sort of like the expert on relationships. I’m sure if you don’t ask her out, Mabel will do it for you when she gets into town.”

“No, Soos, I couldn’t…” Stan began.

“Mr. Pines,” Wendy butted in, “she winked at you. C’mon, ask her out! Ask her out!” She pounded on the counter in rhythm, and Soos joined in the chanting.

“Ask her out! Ask her out!”

“Fine!” Stan grabbed a business card and shoved it in his pocket. “Just get back to work.”

_______

With a deep breath, Stan picked up the phone’s receiver and began dialing. 

“Kathy? It’s Stan… yeah, from yesterday at the shack. Look if you’re not busy tonight, I thought ya might like a tour of the town. I’ve lived here thirty-one years, y’know.”

“A personal tour from Mr. Mystery himself? I couldn’t pass that up.” She teased him, “Will I get to see Bigfoot?”

Stan chuckled, “Nah that stuff's all for the tourists – if you’re gonna live here you need the real tour. Thought I’d take ya to the diner, we could drive around, and maybe go out to the lake.”

“Stan, this sounds more like a date than a tour to me.”

“Ah, ya got me! Guilty as charged.”

Kathy laughed, “Alright, Stan, I’ll see you tonight.”

[milesdickpic]

His Little Girl | Bradley Bradshaw X Reader

His Little Girl Master List (WIP) 🫶🏼

Ch. 1: Just the Beginning

Ch. 2: Little Leia

Ch. 3: Revenge of the Sixth

Ch. 4: The Real Reason I’m Here

Ch. 5: Austin ❤️

Ch. 6: The Best Day of Your Life

Ch. 7: The Beach Scene…

Ch. 8: Bradley…Bradshaw…

Ch. 9: A Date?

Ch. 10: Time to Let Go

Ch. 11: “Stay, Austin.”

Ch. 12: You Were Each Other’s First Everything

Ch. 13: His Little Girl 🥹🫶🏼

Ch. 14: Every Time I Close My Eyes

Ch. 15: Goodbye, Again…

Ch. 16: Bradley’s Wings

Ch. 17: Dagger 2, Up and Ready

Ch. 18: “MAAAAAAV!”

Ch. 19: They’re Mine

Ch. 20: Our Little ‘Bob’

Ch. 21: Papa Mav Duty

Ch. 22: Bradley Meets Billy

Ch. 23: The Banquet

Ch. 24: Leia’s Family 🥰

Ch. 25: Hangman’s Little Wing-Girl

Ch. 26: It’s Been a Week and a Half…

Ch. 27: Lieutenant Bradshaw

Ch. 28: Leia is a Kindergartner

Ch. 29: Daddy Rooster, Sir. 🫡

Ch. 30: Leia’s Callsign Party

Ch. 31: Name: Leia Rey, Her Callsign: …..?

Ch. 32: Fanboy the Tooth Fairy

Ch. 33: Dagger Squad vs. Vapor’s Homework

Ch. 34: Welcome Home, Baby

Ch. 35: Party the Night Away

Ch. 36: Rooster’s Cockpit (that’s still me… 🥺)

Ch. 37: Scarred for Life

Ch. 38: Paradise

Ch. 39: The Venue

Ch. 40: Last Day in Paradise

Ch. 41: Welcome Home Kisses

Ch. 42: Leia’s Puppy

Ch. 43: Best Man and Maid of Honor

Ch. 44: Bridesmaids and Groomsmen

Ch. 45: Will You Give Me Away?

Ch. 46: The Fitting

Ch. 47: The Final Venue

Ch. 48: Practice Dinner

Ch. 49: The Breakdown

Ch. 50: Bachelor vs. Bachelorette

Ch. 51: Wedding Planning

Bradshaw Wedding Invitations 🤵🏻‍♂️❤️👰🏻‍♀️

Ch. 52: Our Little Secret

Ch. 53: At Last, My Love

Ch. 54: Love Forever, Nick and Carole Bradshaw

Ch. 55: The Wedding Pt. 1 " 'Til Death Do Us Part' "

Ch. 56: The Wedding Pt. 2 "The VIPs"

Bradshaw Wedding Reception Playlist 🤵🏻‍♂️🔥👰🏻‍♀️🍾

Ch. 57: The Wedding Pt. 3 "Surprise, Baby"

Ch. 58: The Wedding Pt. 4 "Bound Forever"

Ch. 59: The Deployment

Ch. 60: Take Care of Momma For Me

Ch. 61: The Bradshaw Twins

Ch. 62: Phantom

Ch.63: "Mav, Tell Me the Truth"

Ch. 64: Little White Lie

Ch. 65: Package Received

Ch. 66: Austin the Caregiver

Ch. 67: Perfect Father? Perfect Husband?

Ch. 68: Reunited With the Love of Our Life

Ch. 69: Two Weeks with Nat and Jake

Ch. 70: Bye Bye Kindergarten 👩🏻‍🎓

Ch. 71: "This One's For You, Dad."

Ch. 72: My Heart Will Go On

Ch. 73: "I Can't Do This Without Him."

Ch. 74: "I'll Always Be In Your Heart."

Ch. 75: The Awakening

Ch. 76: Baby Steps

Ch. 77: The Long Road Home

Ch. 78: It's Not Your Time. Fight.

Ch. 79: Welcome to the World, Bradshaw Boys

Ch. 80: Leia and Luke Bradshaw

Ch. 81: Luke and Bradley Bradshaw

Ch. 82: First Night Madness

Ch. 83: The God Parents

Ch. 84: Dadley Dadshaw

Ch. 85: Leia's Luau

Ch. 86: Days in the Life of the Bradshaws

Ch. 87: A Bradshaw Christmas

Ch. 88: Sleeping in the New Year

Ch. 89:

Ch. 90:

Ch. 91:

Ch. 92:

Ch. 93:

Ch. 94:

Ch. 95:

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

(previously in "Daniel versus messy dramatic vampires"... Rashid turned out to be Armand, Louis' dissociating and lying to himself, Lestat's dead, or not, who knows, Claudia's gone nuclear and everyone's insane. Onto season 2, welcome back to the trainwreck and the ramblings of a bookworm nerd. Spoilers for the whole show and the books.)

Season 2 episode 1 [What Can the Damned Really Say to the Damned] - part 1/4

- Before we even start the episode (oh boy this is going to get long), I have to share the passage from the book from which that quote comes because it's amazing:

"The Mediterranean was black, black off the coast of Italy, black off the coast of Greece, black always, black when in the small cold hours before dawn, as even Claudia slept, weary of her books and the meager fare that caution allowed her vampire hunger, I lowered a lantern down, down through the rising vapor until the fire blazed right over the lapping waters; and nothing came to light on that heaving surface but the light itself, the reflection of that beam traveling constant with me, a steady eye which seemed to fix on me from the depths and say, 'Louis, your quest is for darkness only. This sea is not your sea. The myths of men are not your myths. Men's treasures are not yours.'

But oh, how the quest for the Old World vampires filled me with bitterness in those moments, a bitterness I could all but taste, as if the very air had lost its freshness. For what secrets, what truths had those monstrous creatures of night to give us? What, of necessity, must be their terrible limits, if indeed we were to find them at all? What can the damned really say to the damned?"

- [Daniel] "Memory is a monster. We forget, it doesn't. "

We about to explore the concept even deeper...

- [Louis] "She writes it here, so, let's believe it."

[Daniel] "Let's."

Tells you everything already. Let's believe what we've been said, let's believe what's been written, let's not try to verify anything, let's not try to check our flawed memories against facts. And that'll be your undoing, Lou.

- Ayyy, the first "disregard"! Danny boy really does not want to hear from Armand at the beginning.

- Can I just say, maaaan, dirty grimy Louis looks absolutely beautiful, no, I will not take any criticism.

- [Louis] "Can you imagine, never dreaming? Would you look forward to sleep? Or would it terrify you when the day broke?"

[Armand] "Or is it the sleep of an infant? Tabula rasa?"

Makes me think of something my Doctor, Eleventh, said once:

"Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. 'Of course I dream', I tell her. 'Everybody dreams.' 'But what do you dream about?' she'll ask. 'The same thing everybody dreams about', I tell her. 'I dream about where I'm going.' She always laughs at that. 'But you're not going anywhere, you're just wandering around.' That's not true. Not anymore. I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone's. It's taken me so many years, so many lifetimes, but at last, I know where I'm going, where I've always been going: home, the long way 'round." (Eleventh Doctor at the end of The Day of The Doctor)

I think this quote can perfectly be applied to Louis. I mentioned in my rewatch of the very first episode that by accepting Lestat's offer, Louis loses access to an important part of his identity: his life amongst the Creole community of NOLA, with the church and the weddings, the dances and the games, the traditions and rites. And Louis says himself, what he wants is a family of his own, a home. Everything Louis ever wanted is to find the place and the people he belongs to, his home. It turned out not to be the NOLA of his youth, where he couldn't have a proud out gay man. Season 2 shows that it's not Paris of the after war either, nor is it with Armand; Paris is too isolated and too strict, and life with Armand, well, too dishonest and cold. Is it to be with Lestat? Could be. Or, like Louis says and shows in ep8, he's companion enough for himself and he'll paint his life with his own colors from now on.

- Abso-fucking-lutely adore the change in behaviour of Armand now that he's not playing Rashid. The white shirt casually open, the lounging, seductive pose, the langourous manner of talking... It's another mask, he's playing another role to push Daniel's buttons, but it's closer to how you'd imagine a 500-year-old vampire who looks as gorgeous as he does would act. And honestly Assad Zaman is gorgeous and talented and even if I'm not an Armand fan I am still mesmerised and nodding approvingly.

- Oh, hey, didn't notice the first time around, but the subtitles when Claudia talks German (or I think it's Ukrainian?) respect the little errors of syntax and tenses she makes. That makes my little multilingual heart very happy.

- [Louis] "This war. It's affecting the blood. Been drinking misery, hopelessness. It's in the blood, we're taking it in. Taking it on. I'm thinking it's why we can't get warm, warm up."

Yeah... *looks at 2024* I know what you mean.

Louis imitating Claudia and having a conversation all with himself is equal part funny and sad. They both need a hug. And a shower.

- [Louis] "The vampire hadn't been here for centuries. The few scraps of forensic proof we found made the case plain, but Claudia was unassailable. Like... like some deranged geologist waving a woolly mammoth tusk saying, 'Let's knock on the neighbor's door, there must be one inside.'"

Fascinated with the way Louis's been narrating this part of the European journey so far. There's life in his voice, rhythm, animation, in a way that was seldom there before. As if he's fondly remembering that part of his life, when it was just him and Claudia and no obligations, no responsibility, just the chaotic, bloody wilderness of WW2-torn Europe, and despite the grief, the loneliness, the cold, he's enjoying himself, because it's some sort of elipsis between the pain he left behind in NOLA and the pain he's about to encounter in Paris. As if those few years running around Europe in rags, hunting down phantoms, was much more peaceful and fulfilling than 30 years of (admittedly, partly) abusive marriage to Lestat, and definitely more than the Paris time or the after-Paris. And the way the light orchestral music hasn't stopped since the beginning of the episode highlights that feeling of fond remembrance. Yes, Claudia was angry and mostly silent, yes, he was grieving Lestat and hallucinating him all the time, yes, Europe was deep in WW2 and all the horrors that entails, and still, Louis is feeling more himself than he did in his own hometown with his suits and his respectability and his complicated family. Maybe Lestat was right after all, maybe Louis hid behind his masks for so long while all along his true nature was the wilderness hidden by the veneer of sociability, the way New Orleans's buildings barely veil the swamps... Or maybe I'm reading way too much into it all.

- [Louis] "I want to thank you... for the memories you helped restore the other night. I understand these diaries much better now."

Are you sure. Are you really sure of that, Louis. Though, it does give more weight to what I was saying just above. Louis feels like he's unlocked a part of himself he had lost or forgotten thanks to Daniel's unrelenting questions, and it makes him much more invested in his own narration and much more lenient towards Claudia's narration.

- [Daniel] "And tonight's two hours and counting on chasing old world vamps who never materialize. You ever read Moby Dick, Real Rashid?"

[Real Rashid] "I'm here to serve"

[Daniel] "Ah. Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, this is... this is so weird. Where did they send you when Shah Rukh Khan over here was playing you? Is there a panic room behind the Rembrandt?"

[Louis] "My love ran a theatre company for 150 years, Daniel."

[Daniel] "Your love was in a box pondering a premeditated neck wound, according to Claudia. She wrote it, let's choose to believe it."

[Armand] "Unworthy in San Francisco, Unworthy in Dubai. Disregard."

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA I AM DYING THIS EXCHANGE IS EVERYTHING

Haaa, let me catch my breath, I've been wheezing for the past 5 minutes relistening a couple of times to the whole thing to make sure I don't miss a part. Catty old bitching drama queens sniping at each other, this is the best. I want a poster with this entire conversation printed on a Rembrandt painting to put in my room.

The SRK mention, DYING!!

Real Rashid being all "begging you to please not involve me in whatever this is, I just want my paycheck".

Louis trying sooooo hard to sell his and Armand's relationship and Daniel immediately coming in with the steel chair and Claudia's diaries, and didn't I say "Let's believe it" would come back to bite him in the ass, I hadn't expected it so soon tho.

And then Armand being so vexed he lets loose his inner catty drama queen too, and yet I am sorry but have you seen how he looks at Daniel even when he's insulting him, Devil's Minion fans, how are we feeling, 'cause I'm having the time of my life.

And finally, to come back to that first line, Daniel alluding to Moby Dick as a parallel to Claudia's impossible hunt for the vamps... I love clever literary references.

Alright. I stopped laughing and I didn't wake up the house. Let's carry on. Dreamstat is about to make his first appearance...

season 1 masterpost

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

episode 2 | episode 3 | episode 4 | episode 5 | episode 6 | episode 7 | episode 8

[fierymiasma]

⋭ Five Times.... ⋬ // Sebastian x f!MC (Part 4)

Summary: Garreth tries to take what's rightfully Sebastian's. \\ Five times Sebastian Sallow Was Jealous and One Time He Didn't Have to Be

|| Masterlist || AO3 || Upcoming ||

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Full Fic

4. Garreth Weasley

Sebastian was smart enough of a bloke to realize that he was acting like a complete asshole.  Interrupting her dates, obsessing over her about her love life, insulting her character….he hadn't mean do to any of it.  The hero of Hogwarts was his friend, she deserved better than this (better than anything Sebastian could offer, really).  But…any time an apology was on the tip of his tongue, something would happen that make him spit fire and venom. 

To Sebastian's dismay, his partner-in-crime did end up pushing back their nightly library misadventures in favor of Imelda's "so called date".  He had stayed up all night, pacing back and forth in the common room, waiting for Imelda to come back from ….Merlin he didn't even what to think what they could possibly be up to.

It was rather unfortunate for Sebastian that he got yet another sleepless night.  It was even more unfortunate that his crush was avoiding him.

They had Potions together.  The cold dungeons weren't the best place to get some alone time with a girl, but Sebastian was getting increasingly desperate.  He just needed one minute alone with her to apologize.  To get her to understand how he truly felt about her.

And maybe, if he could muster up the courage, finally confess his feelings.

"Be my partner."  Sebastian insisted, with his usual fake confidence and blasé attitude.  "…F-for potions class." He hastily corrected himself.  His cheeks flushed from his unintentional innuendo.

She turned away from him, methodically taking out the various tools she needed before class started.  “I'm sorry, Sebastian-"  (She didn't sound to sorry to Sebastian's ears.)  "-Garreth already asked me."

His teeth ground together in frustration.  His arms hung limply at his side.  Sebastian so badly wanted to hold her, to make her pay attention to him.  “Look, I….I need to talk to you after class.”

Her eyes avoided his.  “There’s nothing for us to talk about, Sebastian.”

In Sebastian's opinion, there was plenty of things to talk about.  She was clearly so cross with him.  He needed to apologize for being a complete bastard.  Sebastian needed for everything to be okay between the two of them.

"Please," his voice trembled slightly.  His fists clenched at his side.  "I need to talk to you…alone…after class."

She was finally bold enough to look up at Sebastian.  Her expression was tight, piercing eyes assessing him warily.  Sebastian waited for her response with baited breath.  Finally, after a long stretch of silence, her shoulders dropped.  She took in a cleansing breath.

"Okay, Sebastian…after class.  We'll talk."

★・・・・・・★

It was frustrating that Sebastian's potion station was completely on the other side of the dungeon.  Sebastian tried to assess her from across the room.  She looked exhausted, not that it made her any less beautiful.  His eyes narrowed trying to get a good look at her through the vapors emitting from the cauldrons.  Was she tired because she had to put up with Imelda all night, or was she tired because…Imelda kept her up all night?

"Sebastian, please, focus.  I will not stand for having to stay late cleaning all the cauldrons for Professor Sharp….again."  Ominis begged.

"Yeah, yeah, just a moment."  His eyes narrowed.  Was it his tired eyes or was Garreth a bit too close to her?

Sebastian had always liked Garreth.  There was something to be admired in someone who was willing to skirt around the rules to get what they wanted.  Sure the Gryffindor could be a bit air-headed at times, head in the clouds, but he had that thirst of knowledge that Sebastian could relate to.

Her hair was coming undone from her messy bun, threatening to spill out from their confines into the rich potion beneath them.  How he yearned to tuck her hair behind her ears, to kiss her jawline for good measure.  Sebastian could see her say something to Garreth from all the way across the Potions classroom.  Rolling up his sleeves, Garreeth preceded to clumsily tucking the falling strands of hair behind her ears back into her bun.  She smiled at the Gryffindor, thanking him before going back to her stirring.

Something nasty stirred in the pit of his stomach.  Actually, Sebastian had always hated Garreth.  He was a good for nothing prick who looked like he had a mandrake for a mother.  Dumber than a ballet class full of trolls, that one. 

"Did you see that?"  Sebastian hissed.  "He practically has his hands all over her!"

Ominis sighed.  One of these days, he was going to have to learn how to make an actual potion.  "No, Sebastian, I didn't see anything.  Now can we get back to our potion?"

Sebastian had abandoned all semblance of pretending to care about their assigned task.  He wasn't a good lip reader, especially through questionable vapors in a Potions classrooms.  "You have good ears, Ominis, what do you think they're saying?"

"I think…." A deep voice drawled from behind the two boys.  Sebastian jumped, nearing backstepping on Professor Sharp's foot.  "Your fellow classmates are brewing the assigned potion in which neither you nor Mr. Gaunt seem to be making any headway in, Mr. Sallow."

Sebastian nodded.  "Sorry sir, we'll get right on it."

Professor Sharp said nothing, gliding away from the two boys onto the next pair of unfortunate students.

Ominis frowned.  "Why is it, I get lumped in with your troubles?" 

"Garreth's got that conniving look on his face.  I bet he's about to ask her out.  Ominis, send one of your snakes to listen into their conversation." 

"That is not how Parselmouth works."  The poor boy sighed, speaking more into their cauldron, as it seemed like a better listener.  "Besides, I don't just carry snakes on me at all times."

Sebastian scowled.  It's like Ominis wasn't even trying to help him.  From across the room, he saw Garreth's head stooped low, his face inches away from hers. 

Whatever it was that moonmind was doing, Sebastian was going to put a stop to it.  Rolling up his sleeves, he smoothed over his stray hairs and checked his reflection in the cauldron.  Ready to enact his plan, he "clumsily" elbowed over their porcupine quills, scattering them everywhere on the dungeon floor. 

"Oops, clumsy me.  I'll get some more potion ingredients, Ominis.  I'll be right back." 

Ominis rolled his eyes. 

Gliding, very unsuspiciously across the room closer to Garreth's and his crush's station, he pretended to try to search for his ingredients.  Listening intently into the pair's conversation, Sebastian could feel his stomach give out. 

"What do you think: Three broomsticks, Saturday night?  Assuming you're not busy with your evil Slytherin friends, of course."  Garreth joked. 

"Garreth," she chided gently.  "They're my friends."

In Sebastian's opinion, she could be protesting a lot harder at Garreth's baseless accusations.  Give him a slap on the cheek for good measure too.  Maybe hex him into a bat.

That would show him to make moves on her.

"C'mon, you hang out with them too much anyway.  Merlin knows, Sebastian's practically hovering over you like a dementor.  Surely, you can take one afternoon off to get some butterbeer with me."

That prick!  That oily faced, ugly-mugged bastard!  Part of him wanted to rip the offending man to shreds.  The other part of him pitied him.  It was honestly laughable that Garreth would believe that in any universe she would say yes-

Her lips split into a wide smile.  "Sure!  Right after dinner, I'll meet you in the Courtyard?"  Her eyes narrowed.  "Now, hold on, you aren't trying to get me to steal anything for you from Honeydukes, are you?"  Her voice was teasing and light, as if she joked with Garreth often.

"Ha, no.  I'm not Sallow.  If I wanted something from you, I'd just ask outright.  Gryffindors don't manipulate their friends."

Sebastian nearly blacked out from fury.

★・・・・・・★

First Imelda and now Garreth?  This was far too much.  The second that Potions class ended, Sebastian confronted her, pulling her by the arm to a secluded corner of the dungeons. 

Her face was so open and innocent, almost as if she were completely unaware of the angst she was causing him.

"You wanted to speak with me, Sebastian?"  She looked breathless, soft lips parted in anticipation.

Right, he was supposed to be apologizing to her for his recent behavior. 

Instead, his voice was low and dangerous.  "Imelda Reyes I get," (He didn't.) "But Garreth?  Mr. Trolls for Brains?  Mr. I'm-too-stupid-to-know-the-difference-between-an-explosion-charm-and-potion.  That Garreth?"

She frowned, tugging her arm away from Sebastian's grasp.  His hands felt so empty.  "What on earth are you talking about, Sebastian?  Garreth's my friend!  And he happens to have the most brilliant potions ideas-"

Something inside of Sebastian roared in fury.  How dare she stick by Garreth's side but not his?  Was Sebastian not 'brilliant' enough for her?  "What does that fucking git have that I don't have?"  His voice was rising.  A crowd of students was gathering to watch the spectacle.

His tongue was running faster than his mind.  "What does Imelda have to offer for that matter?  Or Ben?  Or Natty?  What?  Ms. Savior of Hogwarts, is so easy that she'll go on a date with any wizard or witch who asks?  If Professor Sharp proposes to you, I suppose the wedding will be next week?"

He instantly regretted it the second the harsh words left his lips.  Her big wide eyes so usually full of love for Sebastian welded up with tears.  She sniffed as her face turned blotchy red.  Oh, Sebastian, you idiot.  You've gone and made her cry in front of the whole school.

"Sebastian Sallow, you…you…you fucking TWAT! Next time, you fancy a girl, why don't you pluck up the courage to ask her on a proper date instead of being a giant bully.  For your information, Garreth asked me to get Butterbeers as friends to pay me back for all of my help.  But you know what, Sallow?  Maybe, I will make it a date.  Maybe we'll find a hidden alleyway in Hogsmeade where I snog him wild.  Maybe, he'll be a boyfriend whose jealousy won't make him an utter prick!"

She turned her back to him, stifling the tears pouring down her face with the sleeves of robe.  She pushed her way through the crowd.  Sebastian was numb, helpless to do anything as Garreth, fucking, Weasley patted her on the back gently.  They turned around the corner, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the school.

Sebastian stood, frozen in place, unsure what to do.  The other surrounding students started moving, shuffling to their next class now that the spectacle was finished.  Sebastian heard a snort from his left.  Looking over, he saw an extremely unimpressed Professor Sharp leaning against the doorframe with an open flask in his hand.

"Mr. Sallow, a piece of advice: publicly humiliating a girl in front of the entire school is not the best way to win her over."

Sebastian scowled, muttering some very choice expletives.  Stomping away, he already decided to skip his next set of classes.

[haydenn]

Crowley had been dreaming of Aziraphale for 6,000 years. Ever since the first time he closed his eyes and succumbed to this human habit, Aziraphale had been in his dreams. At first he dreamed of the angel’s smile, of the way he’d fretted over giving away his flaming sword, and of the way he had looked at Crowley from under his wing, hair damp from the first rain and eyes shining with… not love, not yet, but certainly intrigue and interest.

Later dreams had been more wish fulfillment than echos of reality. After they had oysters in Rome, Crowley had dreamed of tasting the salt and brine again from his angel’s tongue. After the first time he’d taken Aziraphale to a Shakespeare play, Crowley had dreamed of whispering sweet nothings against his angel’s skin until Aziraphale gasped and sighed for his words as he’d done for the Bard’s. When they’d finished their crepes in Paris, Crowley had revisited the Bastille in his dreams and imagined an alternate version of events. One where Aziraphale had remained in his chains and Crowley pealed those pretty, ridiculous clothes off of him piece by piece until they were pressed against the wall, trembling and holding each other through the aftershocks. When he’d finally returned home after their candlelight dinner in 1941, he’d dreamed of telling Aziraphale all the feelings he’d held back for millennia, which he now suspected were reciprocated.

Of course, not all his dreams had been fantasies; there had been nightmares too. When they fought in 537 and 1862, those fights had haunted his dreams. He tried to rewrite them, to come up with cleverer arguments or more compelling reasons for Aziraphale to stay, but every time they had ended with Aziraphale storming off and leaving him alone exactly as he’d done in real life. His dreams had been plagued by the words “You go too fast for me, Crowley.” for a decade after Aziraphale said them in 1967. But the true nightmares had started when the world began to end. In the wake of delivering Adam to the nuns, Crowley had dreamed of every worst-case scenario, of Heaven winning, of Hell winning, of the whole universe being vaporized into nothingness. In every one of those nightmares, he and Aziraphale were irrevocably separated and the thought of losing him forever was enough to wake him.

After the bookshop fire, Crowley had dreamed of smoke and flames and a sense of loss so profound it was as if half his soul had been ripped from him. He dreamed of searching for ages and never finding what he was looking for, never truly knowing what he was looking for because he had forgotten the half of himself lost in the flames. Nothing could startle him awake from those dreams. He had to ride them out until he woke naturally, his nose full of phantom smoke and a gaping hole in his chest where Aziraphale used to be.

He thought the fire dreams were the worst of them. After all, what could be worse than dreaming of being trapped in a world with no Aziraphale, doomed to an eternity of futile searching for an angel he couldn’t remember, but knew he’d lost? But now, as his naked feet slapped against the cold floors of the shop, he knew those dreams had been nothing compared to the one he’d just had. After the fire dreams, he could at least wake up, drive to the bookshop, and reassure himself of Aziraphale’s continued existence. But now? Now he was sprinting through the dusty stacks of the shop, as he had done through the corridors of Hell in his mind, screaming for Aziraphale and coming up empty.

The shop was empty.

Aziraphale was gone.

———————————

May You Be Forgiven (pt 2) was updated…. 2 weeks ago. There won’t be an update today because my grades are due. But, if you haven’t seen the last chapter, here it is.

And here’s a link to part one if you’re brand new.

[silverpen-and-paper]

2, 13, 24, and 27 for the ask game! Sorry if you’ve already done these lol

ty for the ask!!

2. how did your interest in loki begin? (optional: how has it evolved over the years?)

link!

13. do you have any headcanons about asgard? (phsyics, culture, environment, history, etc?)

asgard’s water cycle goes like this: ocean water falls off the edge of the planet. it becomes vapor, the particles small enough that you can’t see them. one fraction of the vapor gathers beneath asgard and soaks back up to the topside through pathways in the rock and soil, surfacing as natural springs. the other fraction of the vapor curls back up against the atmosphere’s barrier and reforms as clouds over the topside. i’d assume this means all water on asgard (except maybe an isolated lake or two) is freshwater, but i’m not a meteorologist, so maybe not.

the shiny bright pillars on the underside of asgard are probably supposed to be ice? but i prefer to think that they’re some kind of otherworldly crystals that are magically making asgard’s gravity work the way it does. i could accept them being coated with ice, though.

idunn’s golden apples exist (we see some on banquet tables), but they don’t have the same effect as the myths. instead of being The Thing that asgardian longevity relies on, they’re just really, really healthy for you — maybe extending your life by 100 years or so if you eat them regularly enough. in my headcanon, that species of plant had already been growing on asgard for a while, but idunn figured out a way to revolutionize their benefits to the extent that asgardians refer to them as idunn’s apples. i think she runs an orchard of them.

asgard is transphobic, but not homophobic. i have a wip post where i explain this headcanon more but this is the gist of it.

there are asgardians living in the more mountainous parts of asgard, away from the main city where the palace is located. some in villages, some more isolated. this might be too obvious of a concept to count as a headcanon, but i’ve never seen anyone mention it before, so.

24. what song lyrics remind you of loki?

oh SO many but here are a few of my favorites

persephone by daisy the great:

the plight of the siren is that she’ll never sing without somebody claiming she’s starting a war and every word from her lips is a sign that she’s hungry for blood she’s a killer and moreso  the music is sweeter than honey, but honey oh, think what a monster she is at her core

my body is not mine by aurora:

but the light kicks in when i know it’s time i’ve built my walls so it’s safe to hide and the people i love i’ve left behind they see too much when they look in my eyes feel no pain and i never cry i bleed no blood, and i will never die my body’s not mine, body’s not mine body’s not mine, i need no body

rule #5 - james picard by fish in a birdcage:

i’m aware of the madness that has stained our air so i paint all the darkness  and the wounds that we must face ah (ah), ah (ah), ah fear has unleashed a storm through so much pain ah (ah), ah (ah), ah the fire spread throughout my bones and stayed

and here’s a few more songs on my loki playlist that i can’t not recommend: horror and the wild & farewell wanderlust by the amazing devil, nunemaker’s parable by everybody’s worried about owen, winter bird by aurora, regular people by moon walker

27. say you go back in time and get hired as the director of a mcu loki movie/series/episode that you dislike. assuming you’d already be changing the big stuff you criticize, what is the pettiest thing you’d change?

the tiny stack of papers in s1 ep1 of the series, the one that supposedly contains everything loki’s ever said. it’s a really odd and baffling move for a series that insists loki likes to talk a lot. and even if they didn’t insist that, like, loki’s about 1047 years old by that point! a single day’s worth of words for the average person would at least fill two or three pages, and loki’s lived — what — over 300,000 days? those papers should fill an archive. 

and there’s so much potential there too: if they wanted to go comedic (which they likely would), haha, look at all the pages loki has to read! if they wanted to go psychological horror, just imagine the dawning terror loki would feel as they realize that it’s all there. everything they ever remember saying, every hazy half-memory they nearly lost to time, sentences and conversations they don’t remember at all — it would be very tasty and effective horror if done right, i think. 

not to mention how long it would take for loki to read through them all. time doesn’t work the same way in the tva, but would they notice themself getting tired? hungry? thirsty? would they realize how long they’d been in there? would they even remember why they started in the first place? would loki be so entrenched in reading that after they finally finish, it feels like they’ve just lived their entire lifetime over again? would they snap and try to break out before then? if they did, what would be their breaking point?

plus, i doubt the tva would record other people’s halves of conversations. the tva would want to save paper and keep things simple, after all, so they’d just record loki’s dialogue. loki would read through thousands of moments where they know they must’ve been talking to their loved ones, but they would have to rely solely on memory and deduction to know what other party had said. all they would be able to see clearly is their own words echoed back to them. 

also, i refuse to accept that loki would sign something that easily without knowing what they were agreeing to or why.

full ask game:

[mofffun]

New scenes in King-Ohger movie full cut

(lines by ear)

01:08 +line, Rita (to Gira): いつまで待たせる　始まるそう (How much longer are you gonna keep us waiting? It's about to start.)

01:34 shugoddom square establishing shots

04:19 extended orphange meal scene + lines. Gira brought out a pot and asked Debonica to help set the table. She refused and stole a piece of bread.

05:21 +line, Gira: 相変わらずうたうまい。([Debonica] is still good at singing like before.) Himeno walked closer and poked Gira vs. voiceover

09:39 (portal closed leaving Yanma and Rita stranded) +line, Yanma: 帰るだって　どこからだよ (Talk about leaving, how?)

10:29 Guided by a light beam from her tiara, Himeno crossed a long bridge on the sea

10:43 Kaguragi called for Racles. "Racles-dono, please answer if you're here!" A portal appeared and he crossed it to find himself in front of a burning Takitate Castle. Iroki's voice only "Long time no see, Kaguragi." "嫌なものを…" (~I don't like this.)

11:14 Underwater N'kosopa: longer establishing shot: top-down pan vs. forward dolly, + longer rita run

15:51 + Himeno exepctant reaction shot as she waited for her parents to materialize

17:05 Iroki: You dirty your hands for this throne. What did you get in return?

Kaguragi: People and country, and peace.

18:21 "These are all, Moffun." Close-up of Rita looking up vs. voiceover. Ghost swarm: +line "やっば無理だ!" (Nope, I can't take it [after all]!)

20:06 Yanma pulled on the spider thread until he reached a thick strand encasing a cable.

23:05 Ishabana and N'kosopa team shocked the retainers back to life

30:11 +line, Himeno: 醜い死に損ない (She called Rainoir an ugly thing who won't stay dead, while smiling)

30:24 Yanma: What ae you doing here?

Jeramie: 王を歓迎する場合に、狭間の王が仲間外れはいただけな (This is an occassion for kings, how could you exlude the king of the in-betweens?)

30:50 calibur roll call

34:00 Debonica's look at Gira. They got back climbing on Jeramie

Rainoir's last words:

だが　シュゴッドムの王は常に一人。ラクレスハスティーは生きでいる。勝負をつけたら、また来るがいい。その時、このチキューのすべてを話そう。

(However, there can only be one king of shugoddom. Racles Husty still lives. When a winner is decided, come see me again. Then, I will tell you everything about this Chikyuu.)

(note: the making uses 決着 (decision) instead of 勝負 (win/loss))

Gira smiled and walked away.

34:57 Coronation restart. Rita put down their sword at the altar, the kings reaction shots + Jeramie narrating.

35:32 Kings comments as Gira walked down the aisle

Yanma: よっ！元指名手配犯！(Yo! Former fugitive!)

Shiokara: Shhhh!!

Kaguragi: しかし 子とものお遊戯会見えんなくもう (However, he no longer looks like a child in dress-up.)

Hineno: 王冠　私がもらっちゃうかしら (Should I take the crown?)

Rita: 王位簒奪は重罪だ。奪うなら今こそ。(Usurping the throne is a serious crime. If you want it, do it now.)

37:21 Debonica cake scene moved to pre-credits

40:07 Post-credit scene #1

Rainoir: 死の国にまでもやってくるか (You found your way into the Land of Death?)

*transformed to block a beam attack, roll call speech*

今こそ、2000年前の仇怨(きゅうえん)を返す！ (2000 years... Now is the time for revenge!)

The beam vaporized him and camera cuts to Dugded crouching on a transparent disc hovering, "つまんね" (Boring.)

(note: the two characters are never in the same frame so i'm pretty convinced they are filmed separately. otherwise Rainoir's actor would've known about Dug/Ch2 in May. The post-credits scene are not specified as filmed during the original production so the suit part might be the advertised "newly-filmed scenes".)

41:13 Post-credit scene #2 (おまけ bonus scene)

The retainers' lies to shock them into the underworld:

Shiokara: 喧嘩最強 ヤンマくん! (Best at brawls is Yanma-kun!)

Sebastian: ヒメノ様はブズでございます (Himeno-sama is ugly.) *Thundercracker hesitates*

Morphonia: 働くて最… ([I love my] job..) (lightning before the sentence is finished)

Kuroda: 我こそはトウフの王… (I am Toufu's Lo[rd]..)

[emp-t-man]

episode 2 time yippeeee :3

i dunno if it was on purpose or if it was just an error on makayla’s part but hera pronouncing minkowski incorrectly is so silly to me. it’s the only time she does that in the whole podcast and it could be seen as her emulating eiffel because they’ve started to get along and then minkowski tearing into her for it so it doesn’t happen again or it could just be a mistake but. it’s silly.

eiffel is so incredibly monotone in these early episodes compared to the amount of personality his voice is known to have, ESPECIALLY during his announcement to the rest of the station. obviously a lot of it is just zach growing into the character and the voice but i also like to think that losing that monotonality is symbolic of him growing out of his more,,, nihilistic? i wanna say? approach to the whole situation as time goes on

i’d let minkowski throw me in the brig. the way she talks in this episode? i’m. god i love angry women

tiny detail but i love his delivery on “can you explain to these LOSERS—” he’s so unserious i love him

i NEED to know what was going through gabriel’s head when he made minkowski call him doug. i’ll probably have a definitive answer on this further into the relisten but i can’t tell if it’s her just being casual and trying to appeal to him as,, almost a friend? or if it’s a bitter thing, like how she refused to call lovelace “sir” until she had earned it. i’ll definitely have more to say on that later, but for now. hm

i would also like to know how many eiffel protocols there were, and for what scenarios minkowski could have possibly come up with him doing in order to make them—

I. HATE. THE LITTLE RADIO STATIC SOUND EFFECT THEY USE AS A TRANSITION IN THESE EARLY EPISODES. ITS LOUD, ITS UNNECESSARY, AND IT SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF ME I THANK GOD EVERY DAY THEY DID AWAY WITH IT

something something “could there be pain” something something masochism something something homosexual

SPEAKING OF PAIN. HILBERT SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT VAPORIZED BROMINE??? DO YALL KNOW HOW FUCKING PAINFUL IT IS WHEN BROMINE MAKES CONTACT WITH SKIN??? A LITTLE BIT OF PAIN MY ASS THAT SHIT CAN CAUSE PERMANENT SKIN LOSS

also?? i never realized that the fucking. klaxon thing that blares??? was specifically to prevent him from sleeping. that wasn’t a warning because the room was so cold, it was a method of sleep deprivation, that’s fucked up my god fhdbdb

another one of my favorite deliveries is “i THOUGHT i smelled MOLASSES. but then i DIDN’T get knocked out, so i dunno what THAT was about 😀”

i will never, EVER get over “when in doubt, whip it out” that’s the funniest thing gabriel has ever done /j

also there’s something about the way that eiffel pronounces minkowski’s name wrong when talking to or about her, but still has enough respect to call her “commander” half the time. it’s kind of a proof that he isn’t doing it maliciously, it’s simply a bit of banter that he thought was a joke between the two. but that also makes it more heartbreaking because he genuinely just. doesn’t realize the harm he’s doing. and refuses to listen every time she tries to bring it up.

the way that eiffel is so concerned over brushing his teeth this whole time when this motherfucker won’t even shower. like. your priorities are all over the place babygirl

BUT, speaking of that. i definitely don’t think it’s just about brushing his teeth. i’ve seen a lot of things about like. how ridiculous it is that he would go through all of that just for toothpaste? but listen. nothing in eiffel’s life up until this point had been something he’d had a choice in, at least not since the accident. even going on this MISSION wasn’t really a choice, when you consider the alternative was twenty-something years in prison as opposed to only a couple in space. being in charge of this situation, as dumb as it may sound, was the only thing left for him to BE in charge of. he finally had a SAY in something, and he was willing to go without sleep for over twenty four hours, live in minus forty degrees, starve for hours on end, and be entirely isolated just to make sure he could keep it that way, if just for a few more hours. and that’s devastating to me

this one is long as HELL but every time i listen to this thing i find more stuff i can connect in terms of later plot points and it’s so maddening that gabriel admitted to having no idea where he wanted to go at this point because he ended up tying it together SO WELL.

[gabessquishytum]

Had a funny idea that hit me while writing out my last warprize hob ask, of an incident when an envoy of foreign dignitaries arrive for a visit. 😁

The kingdom this envoy is from is very prudish, and vanilla. Clothes cover everything, any and all sex stays firmly behind closed doors, and there is very little information available about anything particularly kinky. The hedonism and practice of sex pets in Dream’s kingdom is incredibly shocking and vapor-inducing for these dignitaries, but Dream doesn’t really give enough of a fuck about them to change or hide any of it for them, so he and everyone else carry on like normal.

The dignitaries are all having quiet conniptions the whole time (though some of them are also having quiet sexual awakenings simultaneously), but none of them say anything on the grounds of 1) it would be incredibly undiplomatic and improper to speak out against the normal practices of another culture, and 2) Dream’s reputation as the Nightmare King is incredibly well-deserved, and it would be incredibly stupid to provoke him. So they all try to ignore all the sexual activities happening in front of them and power through, and try not swoon in shock about it.

There is one young and green member of the envoy who is rather taken with Hob at first sight, and is therefore utterly horrified on Hob’s behalf all the public humiliation and degradation he is clearly forced to go through. Not only is he made to service the king’s dreadful lust in front of all and sundry, but he is also locked with or stuffed full of toys (that to the dignitary’s untrained eye must be torture devices), touched and groped by any passing stranger (the horny part of his infatuation is guiltily very tempted to take advantage of the situation and also touch, but the romantic part nobly refuses to add to the poor man’s humiliation), and his exposed hole is spanked raw until he cries (through his rose-colored glasses he feels that Hob’s tears must be a direct appeal to him for help). Clearly he was meant to be Hob’s knight-in-shining armor, and he will whisk him away and they will live happily ever after (and make love behind the safety of closed and locked doors)!

So he somehow manages to arrange a moment alone with Hob, and dramatically declares his intent to rescue him from this life of depravity, only to be interrupted by Hob breaking character to glare at him and tell him to piss off. He’s got a good thing going here, his entire purpose here is to essentially have his every sexual need catered to, he is in fact utterly devoted to the king, and even if he wanted to leave it is incredibly presumptuous of him to think Hob would want to run off with some kid he doesn’t know instead.

Somehow Dream finds out about the conversation, either someone was eavesdropping and informed him or he happened to be looking for Hob and overheard himself. Normally he would be seeking revenge against the interloping upstart for the insult, or maybe use the incident to start a war if he was feeling particularly bloodthirsty, but he’s too distracted by the overwhelming need to fuck Hob hard against a wall or into a mattress with hearts in his eyes. He also makes sure to fuck Hob at least one other time in front of the dignitary, and both Dream and Hob look him in the eye as they do so, both with a smug look on their faces.

-🪽anon

Omg this is great. How fun to look at the whole situation from an outsider's perspective.

'Cause. All the sex pets at Dream’s court, they're all kind of acting? Obviously they're not pretending to get sexual satisfaction, that's all genuine. But they've got "roles" that they play, when they're on display and working. While they're relaxing, they might act totally different. For example, Hob tends to act a lot more helpless than he really is, because he likes to emphasise the power-play between Dream and himself. He's a totally different guy when he and Dream are just hanging out.

But the stranger from the foreign land doesn't know any of that! He's totally convinced by Hob’s acting, and thinks that he'd better hurry and rescue this poor man. Deep down he thinks that Hob is probably a chaste and shy person who has been terribly wronged by the king. He's sure that Hob will gratefully take the chance to escape and live a proper, moral life.

When he gets Hob alone, the stranger finds a very different person from the scared, weepy sex pet he's used to seeing. Hob laughs so much he nearly falls over. And then he pulls out a knife, seemingly from nowhere and he's like "Do not ruin this for me, I'm finally in a job I enjoy, I get the best food and the king likes me a lot. I will cut your balls off if you fuck my life up."

Dream also laughs a lot where he hears about this encounter, and of course it only makes him love Hob even more. He even invites Hob to share his private apartment on a permanent basis, not wanting him to be so far away. So really the foreign dignity kind of did Hob a favour? The poor kid is so humiliated and honestly a little bit heartbroken, but it's his own fault for trying to be a white knight!

Hob is more in love with his king than ever, and he's quite happy to prove it be bouncing on his cock in front of the assembled crowds. Afterwards he lies over Dream’s lap, having his over-sensitive dick and hole played with by both Dream and the other courtiers, and for the first time he just can't stop grinning. It's very gratifying to know that the king clearly loves him too.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Dangerously in Love (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 28 Alt 8. Kidnapping Fandom: MCU, Frank Castle, The Punisher, f!reader Summary: After witnessing your murder on a video call, Frank's only focus is on revenge. But he's about to learn that things are not always as they seem... Word Count: 4389 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Grief, Fighting, Blood, Gun Fight, Minor Character Death, Frank Carries Reader, Happy Ending Notes: Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Part 5 of the “In Love” series

It had taken Frank three days and a trail of bodies in his wake, but he had finally located where Costa had streamed from. 

He had barely stopped since the moment he had left your—his—apartment and only to grab a handful of food or a few hours of sleep to keep up his strength for what was coming. Not that it would have made a difference if he tried to get a full night’s sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your terrified, tear-soaked face pleading with him before hearing the deafening bang of the gun and your blood spraying as the camera cut out. While he hadn’t actually seen the damage that the bullet had done to you, he had seen enough bullet wounds in his life for his brain to fill in the blanks. And when that happened, he would jerk awake with tears streaming down his face.

After Maria and their children were murdered, Frank had sworn never to allow himself to care for someone like that again. It was too dangerous…he was too dangerous. And yet, all of that flew out the window the moment he met you. 

He tried to keep his walls up, to keep you out, but you quickly burst through them all as if they were made of vapor. And when you found out about the Punisher and who he really was yet still accepted him, it was over. Frank’s bullet-riddled heart began to beat again and it was all because of you.

You. The girl who would make fun of herself a hundred times over before ever saying a word against anyone else. The girl who couldn’t cook to save her life but still continuously put in a valiant effort. The girl who hid under a blanket during horror movies or gagged at the slightest scene with gore, yet pulled out the first aid kit without hesitation when he came home dripping in blood. 

He knew the risks, he knew the danger, but he also knew he couldn’t live without you in his life. But now that danger had caught up to you and he had lost you anyway. At least if he had kept his distance you would be out there somewhere living your life happy with someone else—not shot to death in a warehouse while you were alone and terrified.

As Frank approached that same warehouse now, he thought back to your last kiss just before he sent you off to stay with Red. At the time, he had promised you it wasn’t goodbye, that he would come back to you. Yet even though he knew there was a very good chance it was a lie, he never expected you to be the one not coming home.

Looking around, he was surprised to find there weren’t any men standing guard by the main entrance or on the rooftop. He remained on high alert, but crossed the empty lot to the front door and kicked it in. When no one opened fire or swarmed him, he ducked inside.

It appeared the warehouse had been abandoned for a while. Even though he could faintly hear the churning hum of a generator somewhere below him, it must only be for the lights since there didn’t seem to be any sort of air conditioner or fans in the building. But that made sense. Costa must have known Frank would come for him after what he did, and it was better for Frank to locate one of his temporary bases of operation instead of his main headquarters. 

Without slowing, he rubbed his face on the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes as it poured down his brow. He continued through the warehouse—gun raised—as he scanned for any traces of Costa, even though so far it seemed as if he wasn’t here. But Frank wasn’t going to stop looking until he made sure. He wasn’t going to stop hunting him down until Costa lay dead at his feet.

However, when he reached the door at the end of the hall and threw it open, he stumbled to a halt as his heart froze in his chest.

It was the same room he had seen from the video call—barren concrete walls, a single light hanging down from the middle of the room, and a metal chair with your lifeless body still strapped to it. 

All of the air was instantly sucked from Frank’s lungs and his knees went weak. 

He hovered by the door, unable to make his feet take a single step closer to your limp form. He swallowed—hard—as tears stung at his eyes. It had never crossed his mind that he might find you here. He assumed Costa would have dumped your body somewhere it would never be found or incinerated it. Maybe Costa thought having Frank see you like this, to face what had happened in person, would throw him off his game. If that was the plan, it was succeeding. Seeing your violent death over video had been one thing, but finding your long cold corpse days later—

Wait. Something wasn’t right here.

You had been left in this dank, humid room for the past three days. He should have been greeted by the putrid smell of rot and decay as soon as he opened the door but instead, he only sensed the metallic bite of fresh blood. Blood that should have long since dried and lost its potency. Yet he could see the dark red pool beneath your chair was still wet—it was recent. 

Frank stumbled forward as if in a trance. It couldn’t be. He watched you die…hadn’t he? He saw the gun go off, a spray of blood, and your head snapped back—but he never saw the aftermath. Not really. The feed had gone black a second after the gun went off. Was there a chance?

The closer he got to where you were tied, the harder it was to look at you. You were still wearing his hoodie that you had been wearing in the video so it covered most of your skin. However, what was showing was littered with bruises and cuts of various sizes, layers of blood coating most of your visible skin as it had dried and been coated once more. The top layer still looked damp in some places, the color more vibrant and shiny in the dim light, and Frank silently prayed for a miracle. 

He hesitated as he reached you, knowing that the tiny flicker of hope he was allowing himself to feel could be instantly extinguished the second he touched you.  The air around him was deathly still as if the room itself was holding its breath waiting for an answer. He sank to kneel at your feet, as if you were some holy miracle he was prepared to worship. Unable to wait any longer, Frank slowly reached out and placed two fingers against the side of your throat.

For a moment, he felt nothing. Just your cool, clammy skin beneath his fingers, and his heart began to sink. But then—

Just as he felt the first weak thump of your pulse, your eyes slowly flickered open. Your gaze was glassy and unfocused but there was a small spark of recognition as you stared at the man kneeling before you. Your tongue ran briefly over your cracked, bloody lips before you weakly rasped, “-ank?”

Frank’s eyes grew wide as he clutched at your face, his fingers tangling deeply in your hair as he tried to convince himself you were real. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s me. Oh god. I thought I’d lost you.” He fought back the tears that were building behind his eyes as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours.

You flinched as he shifted you and for the first time, he noticed the blood-soaked wrapping across your shoulder. Unlike the rest of your injuries, this one seemed more severe yet cared for and, if he had to guess, was probably where the bullet from the video call had struck you instead of the head as he had been led to believe. It was still a dire injury, yet he still felt a wave of relief flood over him. A shoulder wound you could heal from; a headshot was another story.

He stayed with his head pressed against yours, reveling in the fact you were alive and he had found you. Then he pulled back to gaze into your eyes. 

However, where he thought he would see joy or excitement, there was only terror. Slowly—painfully—you began moving your lips as you tried to tell him something but nothing came out except a hoarse exhale.

“Shhh. You don’t have to say anything,” Frank murmured softly as he rubbed his thumb gently across your cheekbone. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m gonna get you outta here and bring you home to get some help.”

But you shook your head, the fear only intensifying in your eyes as you struggled to get your message across. Finally, you took a deep breath and managed to rasp out your message, “–’s a trap…Run.” 

Before Frank could process what you had said, the door to the room slammed open and dozens of armed men rushed into the room. Frank sprang to his feet and tried to put himself between these newcomers and you, but they quickly surrounded the two of you. 

“Well, look what we have here. Mr. Castle, we’ve been expecting you.” Costa chuckled cruelly as he walked through the door. “Although truthfully, I thought you would have been here a lot sooner. Three days is a long time to make your girlfriend wait with no food and very little water, especially when she is losing so much blood.”

“You bastard,” Frank growled as he stepped towards Costa, but he stopped as all of the soldiers around you raised their guns.

Costa’s grin widened. “Uh, uh, uh…I would be careful, Mr. Castle. One wrong move and my men open fire.”

“I can take it,” Frank said, stalking forward.

“I’m sure you can. Which is why not a single gun in this room is aimed at you.”

Frank froze in his tracks before glancing around the room. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Costa was right. Every gun was raised and they were all pointed directly at where you were still tied to the chair behind him. 

Turning, he locked eyes with you and it was clear you had noticed this as well. And yet, the fear that he had seen in your eyes the last time he had looked at you was gone, and in its place was a sort of calm acceptance. You gave him a small smile as you nodded and mouthed, “It’s okay. Go.” 

Frank’s heart swelled. Even after everything this bastard had done to you these past three days, you were still putting his safety above your own. God, how he loved you.

Costa laughed at the tender silent exchange between the two of you. “Oh, is this not precious? You know, she never once lost faith you’d come save her. She said you promised you’d come back and you never broke a promise. Every time one of my men came to check on her or to torture her, she insisted we’d all pay when you found her. Too bad her faith in you was so misguided.” He held up a finger and the men surrounding you all cocked their guns. “Just a word of advice, Mr. Castle that you will never have a chance to learn from: When you try storming the hideout of a known crimelord, don’t try doing it alone. You will always be vastly outnumbered.”

Frank raised his head and looked Costa dead in the eye as his lips curled into a knowing grin. “Who says I’m alone?”

Costa’s smile dropped just as the room was plunged into complete darkness. Frank immediately pivoted and dove towards the spot where he remembered your chair being. His aim was off slightly, but he still managed to grab the edge of the seat as he fell and he pulled it down to the floor with him. And just in time.

“Shoot them!” Costa’s voice rang out through the darkness. He was so focused on not letting you or Frank get away that he did not consider what he had just commanded his men to do.

Following their direct orders as they had been trained to do, Costa’s men opened fire. Bullets whizzed through the air over your heads, and Frank scrambled to cover you with his body as best as he could. You hadn’t made a sound since the lights went off, but Frank felt your hand weakly wrap itself into the fabric of his shirt, giving him a sign you were still with him.   

As the bullets continued to fly above you, cries of pain and heavy thuds began to fill the room. Quickly, those sounds became more frequent while the sounds of gunfire grew less and less. When the lights flickered back on, Frank saw that only a handful of men—including Costa—were left standing. All the rest were lying motionless on the floor where they were hit by the bullets from the men across from them. 

Glancing down, Frank saw you nestled safely under him with your eyes closed and your fingers still curled in his shirt. When you started to peek one eye open, Frank placed his hand over them. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Keep ‘em closed until I tell you to.”

He moved his hand to see you had followed his instructions—and just in time.

Frank felt the barrel of a gun dig into the back of his head. Slowly, he raised his hands. 

“Get to your feet,” Costa growled from behind him.

Slowly, Frank did as he was ordered. Your eyes remained closed, but he felt your grip on his shirt tighten. Carefully, he eased himself back until you were forced to let go, then he rose to his feet. Turning, he faced Costa, the gun still pressed against his skull. 

The mob boss’s face was deep red and a prominent vein in his forehead throbbed. “You just cost me a lot of men,” he snarled, spit flying from his lips and hitting Frank in the face. “I think it’s time we finally say goodbye, Mr. Castle. Tell your family I send my regards.”

Costa stepped back, his gun pointed at the center of Frank’s head. But just before he could pull the trigger, something flew from the hallway and struck his hand, causing him to drop the gun as he cursed loudly. Costa looked down at the red billy club lying next to his gun on the floor then raised his head just in time to see a red-clad figure with a horned helmet burst into the room. 

About damn time.

Frank grinned as he watched Costa stumble backward at the sight of Red ducking and dodging as he lay blow after blow on his remaining men. Using this momentary distraction, Frank charged forward and wrenched the gun from Costa’s hand. The other man’s eyes grew wide and he started to beg for mercy, but Frank didn’t deal in mercy—he dealt in punishment.

Pointing the barrel of the gun between Costa’s eyes, Frank growled, “I’ll see you in Hell.” And he pulled the trigger.

Costa’s head exploded as his body crumpled to the floor. Wiping blood and brain matter from his face, Frank turned to see Red knocking out the last of Costa’s men. 

As the vigilante turned towards him, he sighed. “Frank, you promised if I helped, there’d be no killing.”

Frank threw the gun to the floor as he snapped, “Yeah well, tell that to my wife and kids who he had murdered or my girlfriend—your friend—he left to waste away as bait tied to that chair.”

Red pressed his lips into a tight line but didn’t say anything. Frank knew this discussion wasn’t over but he was grateful Red was willing to leave it alone for the time being. There was a much more important matter that needed to be attended to at the moment.

Hurrying over to where you lay on the floor still tied down, Frank carefully righted the chair and cupped your cheek, tilting your head to get a better look at your face. Your skin was littered with bruises and cuts in various stages of healing, and your bottom lip was split wide. Your eyes were still closed just as Frank had instructed you to do.

Glancing at Red, he asked, “Is she gonna be alright?”

Red placed his hand on the side of your neck just below your jaw. He cocked his head slightly as he listened for a moment, then sighed. “Her heartbeat’s weak and parts of her body are shutting down.” He turned his head towards Frank. “It’s really bad, but if she gets help soon, I think she’ll be okay.”

Frank felt the tightness in his chest lessen slightly. At least there was a chance. 

As Red dropped his hand, your eyes fluttered open. Surprised to see the other man with Frank, you asked, “M-Matt…?”

Red grinned sadly down at you. “Hey. Long time no see.”

You exhaled softly in a poor attempt at a laugh but then your lip began to quiver. “—’m sorry…shouldn’ta left…”

Red placed his hand on your uninjured shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “No, it’s my fault too. I knew you wanted to be with Frank and I should’ve kept a better eye on you.” He paused and tilted his head “...That one wasn’t actually supposed to be a joke.”

“You two can pass around all the blame you want once we get outta here,” Frank grumbled before you could try to muster up another response. “Costa might have backup arriving at any minute.”

He wiped his hands on his pants to clean off as much blood as possible. Then he pulled out his knife and cut your bonds. Now unconfined, your body slumped limply in the seat until Frank gingerly lifted you up. 

You felt so delicate and frail in his arms. As if you would snap in half with the slightest pressure. Your breathing was still very labored and ragged but no matter how Frank repositioned you, nothing seemed to help. 

Moaning softly, you muttered, “Frank…?”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe. Get some rest, sweetheart.”

You nodded into his chest just before your body went limp in his arms. It seemed as if the trauma from the last few days had finally caught up to you and now that you were safe, your body and mind finally allowed you some peace.

Staring down at your broken body as you still struggled for each breath, Frank felt tears begin to silently stream down his face, and for once he was glad that Red couldn’t see him. However, by the way those red lenses were locked onto him, he had a feeling the vigilante knew exactly what was happening. As Frank passed by him as he held open the front door of the warehouse, Red’s hand shot out and grabbed Frank’s arm. 

Giving it a tight squeeze, he said, “It’s over, Frank. You saved her and she’s going to be okay.”

Yanking his arm from Red’s grasp, he growled, “We both know for her, this will never be over and I doubt she’ll ever really be okay again.”

Without another word or even a glance in his direction, Frank stalked through the warehouse and out the exit. It was time to get you home.

When Frank got you back to your shared apartment, Claire was already there waiting for you. Red must have called her on the way. Frank was used to tending to his own injuries, not someone else’s so as much as he preferred to handle things on his own, he was grateful for the help. 

He was also grateful Claire didn’t mention the destroyed living room that Frank had left after thinking you had been killed. In all honestly, once he killed Costa, Frank had never planned to return to your apartment. It was too painful imagining living here without you, surrounded by the memories of what was and the dreams of what might have been. Yet now that he knew you were alive, he was going to have to clean up his mess. But for now, he carried you into the bedroom and laid you down on your bed.

Claire tended to your gunshot and your various other injuries. Then she hooked you up to an IV to replenish your fluids and help fight off any infections you might have gotten in sitting in that sweltering warehouse for days. Then she gave Frank a bottle of extra-strength pain medication and told him to give it to you as needed. She promised to check back in after her shift at the hospital and she left. 

Several hours later, you were fast asleep but Frank could see it wasn’t a peaceful one. Your jaw was clenched tightly beneath a furrowed brow and your right hand clutched at the sheets, twisting them tightly into your fist. Every so often, you would let out a soft whimper or your breathing would momentarily become more ragged. And at one point, tears began slipping down your cheeks.

Frank watched it all from his chair next to the bed, the stabbing ache in his chest growing stronger with each passing moment. He had helped you into a fresh tank top after Claire finished patching you up. As you shifted, the blankets slipped down revealing more skin and Frank noticed more injuries he hadn’t seen when you were wearing his hoodie. You hadn’t said a word about what they did to you, but Frank had seen enough injuries like these to get a pretty good picture. And while some would heal completely, the deeper ones would never truly fade. You would have to carry these scars as a permanent reminder of how he had failed to protect you. 

“I found the perfect wedding dress.”

Startled, Frank’s head jerked up to see your eyes now opened and a soft smile on your face. “What?”

Patting the empty spot on the bed next to you, you said, “I looked online while I was at Matt’s place.”

Frank chuckled as he climbed into the bed and placed his arm behind your head. “You were there for less than a day and you found one?”

You nodded, snuggling your face into his chest. “The second I saw it I knew. It was the one I wanted to marry you in.” You paused, then added, “Just like at that moment I knew I didn’t want to be apart from you, no matter how much danger I might be in.”

So…it was time for this conversation.

Frank sighed, “Sweetheart—”

But you cut him off. “No, Frank. I know what you’re gonna say. But it was my fault, not yours. You sent me away someplace you knew I’d be safe. And I would have been—if I had stayed. But I came back—knowing the risks—because I love you and couldn’t stay away. So everything that’s happened is all because of me and my decisions. Not yours.”

“But you wouldn’t have ever needed to be sent away to keep you safe if you weren’t with me,” Frank countered.

“Maybe. But any life without you in it isn’t one I want to live.” You pressed your lips against the bare skin of his neck. “So if that means I’m put in danger from time to time, it’s a cost I’m willing to pay.” 

“What if I’m not willing to pay for my happiness with your life? Because that’s what might happen one of these days if you stay. As bad as this was, we were lucky. Next time, we might not be.”

Sighing, you sat up and stared at him, your lips pressed together in a frustrated line. “Frank, do you realize that everything you’re feeling right now—all this dread and uncertainty and heart-stopping terror that something might happen to me—that’s what I feel every single time you walk out the door as The Punisher. I never know when I kiss you goodbye if that will be the last time I ever see you alive. But I never try to stop you. I just sit here patiently and pray you’ll walk back through that door to give me another kiss. And yes, this life you’ve chosen is dangerous for the both of us. But are you telling me that you aren’t willing to deal with those same feelings you put me through on a weekly basis in order to be with me?”

“Well, fuck, sweetheart,” Frank muttered looking down at his hands. “When you put it like that, it’d be pretty selfish of me to say no, huh?”

“Exactly.” Placing your finger under his chin, you tilted his head up until he was looking at you. The adoration in your gaze made the last lingering doubts about whether or not he should stay vanish. As you stroked his cheek, you cooed, “And if I know one thing about you, Frank Castle, it’s that you are one of the most selfless men I know. And I love you with everything in me.”

Frank leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than I ever thought possible. And if you’re sure this life of danger is what you want, then you can buy that wedding dress tomorrow.”

“Too late,” you giggled, wrapping your good arm around Frank’s neck in a half-hug. “I already ordered it while you were in the shower.”

Frank shook his head with a soft chuckle. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Marry me,” you said with complete seriousness. “Then we’ll have the rest of our lives together to figure out what comes next.”

Frank pulled you down—carefully minding all of your injuries—so you were lying on top of him. As he felt your eyelashes flutter closed against his bare chest, he murmured, “That’s exactly what we’ll do. I promise.” He pressed his lips against the top of your head. “And have I ever broken my promise?”

[thatonebirdwrites]

Chapter 1 was Lena's Tale. Now we see how Lena is rescued and view Kara's Tale. I really wanted to dig deeply into Kara's trauma and grief for this chapter. Hopefully I showed that and her alien nature well. This was technically meant to be part of the first chapter, but that got too long, so I cut them into separate chapters. I decided to go ahead and post this instead of waiting too much longer. I'm eager to hear y'all's thoughts.

EXCERPT:

Kara Zor El sees Lex fall. Sees how he refuses to let her save him. How his hatred consumes all reason. She sees him collide with the ground. It breaks something in her. Her rule to never kill, and here she fails that one rule. His fall is due to her hand.

She thinks of Lena, who fought so hard to escape the Luthors. And yet it inevitably came to this final showdown, where Kara risks everything to stop Lex and protect Lena. The one person who doesn’t deserve this. She closes her eyes and whispers part of the Kryptonian prayer for the dead.

Lex isn’t Kryptonian, but she can amend it so it fits a more human background. It is something her and her parts devised after each death they fail to rescue.

It is inevitable, Red Daughter’s thoughts pierce her own. The newer part invokes a shiver of pain around Kara's mind at the intrusion. Alex does not stop.

It’s still not okay. How will Lena take it? Kara Zor El hates the thought of hurting her favorite person, especially like this.

Red Daughter has no words for that. During the fight with Lex, the Supergirl clone had merged with Kara, fracturing her carefully integrated mind yet again. But even absorbed as she was, Red Daughter does not hold the memories of Lena’s light in Kara’s life. Her only frame of reference is Lex’s words and the journal she stole from Kara Danvers. It'll mean another session with Brainy and J'onn, to help integrate Red Daughter into her system.

When she opens her eyes, the crater where Lex fell looks strange. Kara Zor El flies closer, and a dread eats through her. Odd scorch marks line its edges, but there is no sign of Lex’s suit. No crumpled metal, which if an object at high velocity impacted and exploded, there would be debris.

She lands baffled. “Alex,” she says as she taps her ear mic. “I think Lex escaped.”

“What? That’s impossible." Alex snaps, her stress masked by anger. Between the fight with Lex and the prior one where Red Daughter temporarily killed Kara — she still wonders at the use of sunlight to jump-start her heart. Alex said only that Lena made the device ages ago — both Alex and herself are exhausted. "He had no jets, no power left. There’s no way he’d survive that fall.”

Kara-Z takes a breath to steady her nerves. She will not let anger overtake her. It is not her at which Alex fumes but Lex. “That was my assessment, but there’s no sign of the debris. Unless he vaporized right when he hit the ground, he must have activated portal tech. We know prototypes of it were stolen during Mercy's attack on L-Corp. Do you think Lex miniaturized it?”

“Let me ask Brainy.”

Brainy clips into their channel. “Yes, I calculate a 99 percent chance he miniaturized it. I am doing a sweep of the area for the signals originating from the suit. It would still give off heat signatures due to the nature of your fight.”

It’s the best they can do. Kara-Z closes her eyes and focuses on her superhearing. She sorts through the overwhelming barrage of noise and zeros in on the heartbeats of her loved ones. That source of comfort keeps her mind still.

Alex and Brainy are safe at their meeting point. Dreamer and J’onn are rescuing the aliens at the power plant with Guardian and an DEO team. Kelly is at her apartment. Lena — where is Lena? She can’t hear her anywhere.

Fear clenches Kara-Z’s stomach. In the rush to stop Lex, Kara isn't entirely certain where Lena went. Her Danvers self had dealt with that conversation, and there hasn't been time to meditate and fuse each's memories into one timeline.

“I must check on Lena,” she tells Alex. Before her sister can protest, she blasts toward the upper layers of the atmosphere. There it is easier to hear far beyond her usual range. Ice forms on the suit and her hair. She stops and closes her eyes.

Still nothing. No, Lena cannot be dead. Kara’s heart constricts, and a rising panic grips her.

Think, Друг-Я, Red Daughter says, using the Russian for ‘friend-self.’ Does not lead hide signals?

Right. Lead definitely would. Hope blooms. She still has a chance to find Lena.

Meditation and mind curating were skills taught to her on Krypton, honed in the temples, utilized in the endless void of the Phantom Zone, and perfected under J’onn’s guiding hand. The safe space in her mind is a garden on Argo, full of her favorite plants and creatures. There her Danvers self rests, and only rouses when Kara-Z imagines herself gently touching her other self's shoulder.

Danvers, I need your knowledge. Where did Lena go?

Zor El? Kara-D’s thought is laced with uncertainty and worry. Sure, yeah, I'll share the memory, but you're not going to like it. I really did try to stop her.