#Mutant Mold incident

[uhhhhhhhhh-ummmmmmmmm-trollge]

What a cute kitten!

[st-armand]

Author’s Notes: Earth-138 & 138B are the same, Hobie lives in New London (NY after British V.E.N.O.M associates take over the city alongside NYC Venom affiliates).
The magical girl references in this head cannon are Sailor Moon after the final season; Post Sailor Galaxia, technically from a worldbuilding head canon I have of the scouts after Neo Tokyo.

Hobie Brown x Magical Girl!Reader Headcanons Part 1

This one is for all my hobie lovers, feast well.

Tags: Fem implied reader with the term ‘magical girl’, Reader is portrayed as Sailor Saturn, black reader but can be read as any and all

Warnings: Magical girls are scary, Mentions of Violence, Political Ideologies, Light Gore, LONG ASF

• Hobie isn’t naive, he lives in a multiverse with infinite possibilities and circumstances, even in his own earth and its surrounding universe there exists mutants, heroes, chaos and beings of extraordinary skills and abilities.

• So its safe to say he isn’t necessarily surprised, but he is amused by the prospect of worlds where the boundaries between reality, the alchemical, and the magical are thinner than what most would even be able to theorize it to be.

I have two ideas of how Hobie meets you:

1. He meets you through another spider—Senshi Araneus aka the Red Spider Nebula one who instead of a traditional spider suit, they have a transformation-based suit, so they’re more likely to be seen out of transformation than in it, since it’s an almost instantaneous change.

So let’s say there’s a dangerous anomaly running amuck in the magical spider’s universe, which is where he meets their friends, comrades, and you.

• The Spider team all have this collective idea that the world where you come from is filled with childlike wonder, and merriment, due to the kind, accommodating and just nature of Araneus, are shocked upon arrival.

(For now at least) it is similar our current world set in an unknown future timeline, the world is amidst a revolution for the fall of economic systems and classes to one founded by the people under a magical galactic ordinance.

New York and Japan are the largest ungoverned magical cities renamed Millennium Lenapehoking and Neo Tokyo.

• The politics of your world fascinates Hobie. You exist in a timeline ripe for molding society into the shape of liberation, and to do so taking up a mantle to fight oppression on earth and across constellations, this ABSOLUTELY riles Hobie up.

He lead a liberative revolution in his own world, and still has to fight fascists to keep peace within his community, so he sees the mantle that magical people uphold on a galactic scale, he empathizes and genuinely respects your fight and struggle.

• The more time he spends in your world, the more he falls in love with it— from the crystalline structures, to the modes of space travel, and especially the clothes that are made to replicate the fashion eras of planets, he finds it especially amusing that punk is classified as a vintage, but he is enthralled at by the future of punk and how the style evolves to match the magical and futuristic styles of the people and aliens on the planet.

• CONSTANTLY asks Senshi Araneus for weekly correspondence between the two of you, it starts off sweet with exchanging gifts from each other’s worlds, then evolves into having whole conversations with Araneus being the messenger between the two of you.

They get annoyed with it quickly, and opts to give Hobie an unlicensed multiverse communication device from your world, he uses it, but shrugs his shoulder languidly and says something along the lines of, “Don’t need it mate, jus’ made my own.”

• Has a group chat with Araneus, you and some other Senshi where you all listen to him complain about Miguel and talk about how terrible his politics are, recently Hobie spends HOURS complaining about the Miles incident (it’s still a sore spot),

but you all like to spam Hobie with photos of creatures and other beings yall meet, your private messages consists of selfies of your mundane days, your day job, updating him on the fun you have with other senshi, but his favorites are the photos you take, face sweaty, styled hair ragged, and your uniform in tatters after a particularly hard battle, flecks of magic flittering in your determined eyes you remind him of a predator, confident in its stride after a good hunt.

2. You also live in Earth-138(B) and while the public information around Magical People is limited to anecdotes from people’s experiences with magical girls, or comics around those who’ve seen them in action, little to none is known about the pretty vigilantes plowing through villains, criminals, corruption, slavery, and fascists.

• You live in New London, your family lived there before the British occupation when NYC became NL.

It was essentially the same, but the difference can be spotted between residential slang, and state sanctioned zoning.

• You’ve been a magical girl since 12, you spent your entire life fighting monsters, corrupted humans, other magical peoples, cops, government spies, you name it, and you’ve fought it and lived, you’re quite privileged in that aspect

• You became a senshi after a traumatic event, cornered in an alley, moments from death, or whatever gruesome ideas your assailant could think of, your body couldn’t handle the stress and anxiety, your star crystal was activated to protect its owner.

When you came to, all that remained were disintegrated bodies and chunks of flesh.

• The first time Hobie meets you, he’s an older teen, mostly accustomed to his duties as Spiderman of his world, and New London, aiding him in the fight against a beast, a V.E.N.O.M synthesized Chimera, in all of its many headed and limbed glory, had attacked the city.

Hobie did his best to contain it, but a monster with few weak points and unpredictable strikes, his spidey senses were a bit overwhelmed.

• Just as he is in the most compromising position battling the enemy, having no aid, and focusing on keep bystanders safe, you came down upon him like a rapture, a visage of death amongst its ghastly horse.

You take down the Chimera with an earth-shattering blow, severing its head with an immaculately clean cut.

• To Hobie you are the visage of destruction, the essence of a vengeful deity that graces its people with salvation, but severs those unworthy of it.

He is enamored by your strength, adoration graces his masked face, but before he gets a quip in to break the ice, you depart—fly really, leaving him with the carcass.

• Hobie only ever sees you in your senshi uniform during fights with extraordinary powers and abilities, or public demonstrations, keeping protestors safe, killing off cops, and helping to rebuild infrastructure in NL.

• Hobie does see you often out of uniform, specifically at a store ‘Clash & Kill’ where many punks go to craft, and barter for accessories.

He always sees you admiring the leatherwork of the items, even smelling them, he learns later you do this to verify if its real leather, this always makes him laugh, he loves to tease you about it too, “You smellin’ the wares again, huh?”

• He won’t know your identity as a magical girl until he’s transparent about his role as Spiderman, this will cause clashes in the relationship that’s fostered between the two of you, but love is a work in progress right?

Comments, Questions, Criticisms?? Im still getting used to formating on tumblr posts so im always down to listen to tips and advice

[blazichu]

Who wants to hear about my newest niche 2k3 crossover(/AU)? No one? Great! Let's get going.

Pokemon in general really puts a crimp on my whole 'You can cross almost anything over with 2k3' thesis, but that's because it's its own distinct thing outside of the fantasy kitchen sink that 2k3 represents. In this case, though, I think it could be fun to adapt the Subway Bosses as characters who fit in 2k3's world, since they do have the common ground of being based in New York.

They're humanoid gargoyles. We'll get back to this point.

Their creation coincides with the establishment of Grand Central Station, which they were initially made to decorate. They came to life when both a) they were complete and b) the station was operating.

Ingo was completed first, so they consider him 'older' even though they gained sentience at the same time. They were made out of the same materials by the same artist, who worked on them simultaneously to ensure that they matched-- so, in their minds, they're twins.

They work for the subway system, mostly on night shifts. While they're capable of functioning during the day, it's harder on them; they get tired quite easily and it's more difficult for them to move. Sometimes they require mobility aids during the daylight hours.

Absolutely adore the subway and how far rail transport has come since they woke up. It's more the mechanics of it that they like and less the current implementation, because both of them have scathing takes as to the 'current' (mid 2000s) state of things.

Have been around since the 1900s. Might be vaguely aware of the shit that went down re: Volpehart. Seem to have some awareness/connection to Y'lyntis, but deny having been made by Y'lyntians.

Capable of molding rock as they see fit. As their bodies are a living rock, this means they can effectively shapeshift. They chose to look the way they do, and were initially sculpted with different-- less human-- forms.

Will generally mold themselves into forms including long coats. These are reshaped wings, and while they're capable of going without, they're far more comfortable with them at the ready.

Can color match to really sell the illusion of humanity, but contact reveals that they're clearly stone. They're pretty touch averse.

Their sentience is related to the specific type of crystal that brought Kirby's drawings to life in The King; they're just a different art medium. Nobody put their crystal hearts in them-- it seems those were just naturally occurring in the stone they were carved from-- but they can't function without them, and would revert to being regular statues.

Are incredibly aware of the turtles' presence. They're the ones who cleaned up after/covered up subway-related incidents like in The Golden Puck, All Hallows Thieves and Hun on the Run. Emmet's not holding a grudge, but he is keeping a tally.

(I like the idea that, as of s4, they're aware of the outbreak mutants, but like... they've seen weirder, and aren't personally at risk, being made of rock. In fact, the concept of illness in general is kind of an abstract thing for them. They fight the aggressive mutants back from anywhere people would encounter them, and wear masks in an attempt to mitigate the risk of transmission. They're a little confused, but they've got spirit.)

[saintsofwarding]

EMBRYO

Chapter 2: Waiting for Cadou

With a yell and a jolt of adrenaline, Rose pitched upright, sheets tangled around her limbs. Nausea chewed at her stomach; for a moment she was lost in the swimming darkness- the mold, I'm back in the megamycete, oh, god, it found me- before reality hit her. She was in bed. Sweat dripped off her like she'd just dunked herself in a pool. Her heartbeat pounded a hole in her chest. The nausea tightened her throat, churning and awful.

Oh, fuck, she was gonna be sick-

She kicked her way out of her soaked sheets and stumbled through the mess of clothes and other detritus on her floor. A faint haze of streetlight filtered in through her curtains, enough to see by as she made it down the hallway and into the apartment's tiny bathroom.

Just in time; she collapsed to her knees seconds before dessert made a reappearance.

Hanging onto the toilet bowl, Rose spat until her mouth stopped stinging with acid. Her throat felt like someone had attacked it with sandpaper. She leaned her head against the cool toilet seat, staring off into the shower, not really seeing it. Her heartbeat slowed.

What the hell was that?

She needn't have asked herself. She knew exactly what that was.

This wasn't the first time she'd had that dream. It had started just after the alley incident, just after a mutant had attacked her for the first time in a long time. It was always the same- Regent City burning below, the dead and mutated hunting down everyone who wasn't infected. Herself, hanging above it all, calm and shining and detached. That was what chilled her the most. How could she look at that, at...at everything dying, and not care?

You don't not care, a small voice whispered to her, a child's wheedling mockery. You like it, Rosemary-rue. You like it, and you want more.

"No," Rose whispered. Her voice sounded dry and small in the darkness. "No, I don't. Shut up. You don't know anything."

A high laugh, and then nothing. It might have been her own thoughts talking to her.

The bathroom was freezing, and Rose slept in an old t-shirt and gym shorts. Her skin was just starting to numb. She spat once more into the water, then reached up and pulled the flush. Her legs shook as she climbed to her feet, moving creakily to the sink. In the mirror she looked half-dead, colorless and hollow-eyed, her skin and hair so pale it glowed nearly white. She gulped a palmful of tap water, glanced at her reflection, then paused.

Were the veins in her eyes-

No. No. A trick of the light.

Stop it. Stop.

Power surged under her skin, and darkness crawled, slick and sinuous, up the walls. Rose gripped the edge of the sink.

Stop it now.

Everything quieted. Her head, her heart, her power. It was okay. Everything was fine. You got this, kid.

She stepped out into the hallway, heading back to her room. Nothing moved in the rest of the apartment; the other door was shut tight. Still, Rose paused in front of it. He usually never slept much; maybe he was awake now, headphones on, listening to whatever brain-melting new artist he'd scrounged up on Spotify latest. Or maybe he was listening to her, not wanting to intrude on her business. Either way, he'd answer if she knocked. He'd listen. He'd reassure her in his usual assholish way that, nevertheless, always made her feel like everything wasn't quite so big a deal as she'd thought. All she had to do was knock. That was it.

Easy.

She stared at the chipped paint of the door for a long time. She never knocked. With a soft exhale, Rose left Heisenberg's door and went back to bed.

She didn't sleep again, not all the long night.

***

"She talk to you yet?"

Rose flicked her eyes up from her cereal bowl, spoon poised in front of her open mouth. "...What?"

"That girl. The one you're obsessed with. Sam? Sam. Yeah, Sam. She talk to you yet?" Heisenberg leaned back in his chair, socked feet propped up on the kitchen counter, staring at Rose across the tiny, shitty Formica table. "Or is she still being a little bitch?"

"Wow. I'm not even gonna answer that."

"You talk to her?"

"What about? 'Oh, you saw me summon black tentacles that super duper pulverized that dog thing, don't worry about that, just a little trick I like to do because I was turned into crystal mold soup by an emotionally abusive bird monster prophetess when I was a baby this one time, and also my stepdad is a human MRI machine'? No. No, I have not talked to her about that." She sighed. "Also, she avoids me whenever she sees me."

"What's she doing? You could stalk her. Hunt her down until she's your captive audience, then force her to chat."

"She..." Rose blinked as Sam's entire schedule materialized in her brain. Shit, she thought. Maybe she was a little obsessed. "She does...band practice two days a week...um...then she's in the school play the other three days, so she's...um, yeah."

"Hn." Heisenberg nodded, scratching his graying beard-scruff. Aside from his socks, which were more hole than sock, he wore plaid boxers, a bathrobe, and an ancient T-shirt with the slogan DULVEY GATORS BITE! "Maybe break her knees so she can't run away."

"Oh my god. I am not talking about this." Rose stuffed the spoon in her mouth with a little more force than was necessary.

It rattled between her teeth and jerked out of her mouth, shooting like an arrow into Heisenberg's hand. He spun it over his palm.

"Hey!" Rose yelped. "I'm eating my cereal!"

"Yeah? Well, I'm asking you questions."

"That is so messed up, give me back my spoon-"

"It's me time now, kid."

Rose glared at him for a good five seconds, watching him lazily flip the spoon from fingertip to fingertip, balancing it on end like a knife-thrower's act. With a huff, she shoved back from the table, stomped over to the drawer, got a new spoon, and plunked back down again.

"Heh. I was wrong," Heisenberg said. "You're the little bitch in this situation."

"Shut up." "Is this the terrible twos or what the fuck ever?"

"I'm-" Rose broke off and stared at him. "I'm...I'm sixteen. You do know that, right?"

He waved a hand. "Two, sixteen. What difference does it make? When you hit fifty then maybe I'll care."

Rose stabbed her spoon into her bowl. "Will you," she muttered. "Freaking miracle that would be."

"What's that? Is that lip I hear?" He sat forward, clenching the spoon in one hand. "Who remembered every single one of your birthdays, huh?"

"You-"

"Mechanical pony when you were eight-"

"-That exploded five minutes after I got on it-"

"Yeah, but it was a mechanical fuckin' pony. And the looks on the other kids' faces when it blew!" He let out a guffaw, flicking the spoon with his power so it clattered into the sink. "Worth the price of admission, I'm telling ya-"

"You suck at presents. And at advice. I can't talk to Sam because she hates me, okay? Because she saw my freeeeaky little show in the alleyway-" Rose waggled her fingers. "-and now she's scared shitless to even talk to me. Okay? You get me?"

Heisenberg watched her with head slightly tilted, his ice-gray eyes narrowed. From the contemplative look on his scarred face, Rose thought, for a microsecond, that he was actually about to bust out some dad-like wisdom, comforting as an old leather jacket. They'd been around each other nearly Rose's whole life, after all, a not-quite-one-thing relationship, not-quite-another. Not quite friend. Not quite companion. Not quite dad.

Now, his advice was about to be not quite dad-like.

"So you're scared. I get it," he said. "Fine, then. Be a pussy. Never talk to her again. Go your whole goddamn life thinking you're some kinda freak, when all you are is someone with a hell of a lot of power and the capability to be more of a motherfucking sorcerer than even me."

He spread one chewed-up hand over his chest. "I, for one, can't wait for more of your pining sessions. Hope the next one is an all-nighter, 'cause I can't wait to be dead on my feet because of your stupid goddamn teenage-"

Rose stood up from the table with such violence she knocked it forward into his solar plexus. With a "Gah!" he nearly overbalanced, slamming both feet to the floor before he went down hard.

"You suck," Rose said.

"What at this time?"

"In general," Rose spat.

She swung on her heel, grabbing her backpack from the counter, shoving her feet into her boots and hurrying toward the door. She unhooked her coat from its peg as Heisenberg struggled to his feet, one hand planted on the table, the other on the counter.

"You better fuckin' pray I remember your third fuckin' birthday!" he roared after her as she shouldered open the front door.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Rose shouted back.

Before he could verbally retaliate she hurried out, down the hall, and into the grimy, greenish light of the stairwell, emerging into the freezing semidarkness of an October morning just as her watch flicked to six-thirty AM. She glanced back toward the apartment window, one of dozens in the building's dingy concrete facade. It was illuminated, yellow and warm. Would he stand in it? Look down at her?

The window remained empty. Rose shivered. She pulled on her coat, hugging it around herself, then went and unlocked her bike from the bike shed. If she hurried, she could catch the earlier bus, make it to school before most people showed up, get some quiet time to-

To what? Enact a Sam plan?

No, she realized with a chill. Not that.

She walked her bike down to the stop and caught the bus just as it wheezed up to the curb. The ride to school was a blur of late-autumn shadow and concrete, frosty grass in empty lots and smears of headlights, streetlights, stores just beginning to open.

She leaned her head against the icy window glass, her earbuds in but turned so low the music was just a faint hum in the corner of her awareness, watching skyscrapers pass silently by, vast gray monoliths in the low, misty clouds. She glimpsed the Crown Tower in gaps between the skyscrapers, a tall, needle-like glass-and-steel structure topped with a terrace that resembled its namesake, each point illuminated with red neon light.

Another shiver trickled down her nerves. She'd never been up there- it was supposedly all offices except the top few floors, which were all gift shops and a revolving restaurant and an observation deck, way too expensive for Heisenberg to cough up for- but she'd seen it in her dream. She'd stood atop it, just below its uppermost spire, her toes balanced on the cold metal. Gazing down at the destruction.

She remembered the faint smile on her mouth. The shockwave, coming closer. The light, so bright she felt its searing heat in her eyes even now-

The bus went over a bump. She jolted in her seat, coming back to herself with a gasp. She blinked as the automated voice called her stop; she'd nearly missed it. She pulled the cord, jumped off the bus, grabbed her bike, and set off toward school.

West Regent High rose around her, a complex of dirty-white-and-burgundy buildings connected by a series of outdoor walkways and surrounded by a chain-link fence. The readerboard proclaimed GO W. REGENT KNIGHTS!, and cast a haze of slushy red light across the student parking lot. The school, Heisenberg had once said, looked like a prison, and now even more so; hardly anyone was here, and the grounds were silent, hush enfolding Rose as she headed through the gate and toward the school library.

She reached it with a hollow knocking around her stomach. She really should have finished that cereal; now she had nothing until lunchtime. The one librarian on duty nodded at her as she hurried past the front desk and into the stacks. Her favorite table was empty, far in the corner, by the huge multi-paned windows overlooking the school's main courtyard. Rose claimed it, glanced around, assured herself no one was watching, then opened her backpack, emerging with her sketch pad and a collection of pencils.

After the alleyway incident had ruined her notebooks and other bag, Heisenberg had come back one evening with a collection of notebooks, sketch pads, loose-leaf paper, even a ream of printer paper, and told her to 'pick what pricks your fancy'.

She'd squinted up at him in disbelief.

"Why..." She'd picked up the ream of printer paper and let it thud back down. "Why did you think I'd want...uh, this?"

"I didn't have the luxury of picking my materials, kid." He'd leaned in the corner of their cramped little living room next to a cracked window, smoking one of his cigars like it was going out of style. Rose guessed that one of the benefits of being a functionally-immortal empowered mutant with an increased healing factor was that he could smoke as many Cubans as he wanted without worrying about lung cancer. "Once my supplies were used up I got whatever scraps Miranda threw out, or whatever I could scrounge up from the junkyard. Sometimes I had to draw my schematics all over the factory walls if there was nothing else."

Rose had fallen silent. He rarely talked about Miranda; for that matter, he rarely talked about the village, his life there, the grand work of vengeance that had consumed him for the better part of a century.

He wasn't done. "Saw all this and got inspired. Thought you might..." He waved a hand at the heap of paper. "Oh, just fuckin' pick something."

Now, Rose smoothed her hand over the book's cover, let out her breath, and flipped to a clean page. Her pencil tip hovered over the paper.

It's okay, Rose.

Just get it down. Out of your head. That always helps, right?

If it's there-

If it's real-

It can't hurt you.

Stupid. Of course it could still hurt her. She might be a monster, but without full control over her powers, without understanding, real understanding, she was in as much danger as the next poor person who stumbled into the wrong alleyway.

But her pencil tip touched the paper, and she began to draw. Sweeping strokes; she half-closed her eyes, letting it spill out of her. Jagged smears of shadow; a messy grid, conveying streets. She drew and drew, hunching over her paper, ignoring the chew of hunger in her stomach, letting it and her anxiety over Sam wash away. Once the time neared her first class of the day she slowed, working in a few final details. It was all there, on paper- the impression of her dream, the emotion of it, even if all the pieces weren't exact.

I was there.

The rain on her skin. The heat from the fires below.

But it was on paper, not just in her head. And if it was on paper, she could control it. She could tear out the page and crush it into a ball, lob it into the nearest bin like Heisenberg with that spoon. She didn't. She shut the sketch pad on her drawing, feeling stronger, feeling more ready to face whatever came.

Not for long.

As she hurried out of the library, a flash of pink filled her vision. She skidded to a halt as Sam and a pair of her friends emerged from outside. Sam didn't notice her; one of her friends did, and his eyes got big as he smacked her shoulder, staring at Rose like she was some wacky zoo animal he'd never seen before. Sam looked up.

She saw Rose.

"Sam-" Rose squeaked, but Sam, her warm brown skin blanching a shade, veered around her, head down, picking up her pace into what could almost be considered a jog.

Rose stood in the library foyer for a second, her eyes warm. She sniffed and glanced up, making eye contact with the librarian.

"It'll be okay, sweetie," the librarian said, and held out a dish. "Mint?"

***

Her day passed in a grind of classes and chit-chat with her friends and classmates. Sam was in her Algebra One class, but always sat at the front with the other whiz kids while Rose sat at the back, next to the window. Rose didn't try to talk to her again; thank God the next class was English, Sam-free and thus not an agony of glancing from blackboard to Sam's piebald pink-and-black hair and back again, hoping beyond hope she might look back and smile.

Lunch. Classes. The sky darkened outside, clouds descending. Rose balled her fists inside her sweater sleeves as she half-listened to Mr Greebly drone on and on about electrolytes. Today was a play day for Sam. Come three-thirty PM she'd be in the auditorium rehearsing. She was playing Mrs. Webb in the fall production of Our Town. Rose had half-heartedly tried out, but she'd kept messing up her monologue; Heisenberg had made some kind of effort to help her memorize it, but he kept snorting at some of the lines and substituting his own, much more inappropriate, ones. It was nightmarish. Besides, Rose had gone all cold the second she went onstage. She figured she wasn't exactly cut out for treading the boards.

Just go find her. Talk to her. Break her kneecaps. Shut up, Heisenberg. It would be easy. Just go in, sit her down, have a nice chat. Maybe- maybe go out for coffee? Oh, god, no, that would be like a date. Just- just talk to her. Yeah, start with that. Just talk.

At last, class released Rose into the same semidarkness she'd come to school under, the taste of ice hanging in the air. She headed toward the bike racks, half of her already convinced she should just go home and try and get some homework done.

And endure Heisenberg's scorn?

Scorn her he sure as hell would. He really did have a special talent for making her feel like a dummy. At the thought of this a spike of courage drove itself into her heart; at the last second she swerved, hands in fists, away from the bike rack and toward the cinderblock rise of the auditorium near the front of the school.

The foyer was chilly, dim, echoes fanning away and away as she let herself in. She checked her watch. Three twenty-one. Voices floated from deeper in the auditorium, rendered watery by echoes. Rose ventured down, chewing a loose piece of skin on her lip, and slipped through the doors into the velvety darkness of the auditorium proper. Rows upon rows of seats sloped down to an illuminated stage, its curtains drawn back, exposing the concrete back wall of the theater and a few pieces of scenery in stands. Three people stood onstage, a few more grouped in the front rows. From the sound of things, they were running lines.

Sam's pink hair shimmered in the reflected stage light. Rose's mouth went dry. She sat in the front row, reading from her script, a big pair of white headphones clamped over her ears.

Not too late to leave, Rose told herself.

She kept walking.

"Rose?" one of the other girls, Katherine, stammered as she noticed Rose approaching. The trio onstage fell silent; Sam stood upright like she'd been given an electric shock, yanking off her headphones. She spun round, facing Rose.

"Sam," Rose said. "Sam, please-"

"Are you stalking me?" Sam said, her voice thick with disbelief.

Atta girl, Heisenberg might have said. "No," Rose pressed. "God, no. Sam- please. Don't run off- I just want to talk-"

Sam turned and hurried away, taking the stairs by the side of the stage two at a time. With a shake of her head Rose went after her. She was taller, ganglier, but Sam knew this place better; she wound off through the dusty, rope-crossed darkness of the backstage, through work lights and under stored scenery.

"Sam!" Rose called. She lost sight of her for a moment, then saw pink in her periphery and pushed on. "Sam-"

She burst through the green room doors and into the humming fluorescent lights of the mirrored changing space beyond. Sam stood on the far side of the central room, arms folded over her chest, reflected twofold by the long mirrors to either side of her. Her head was down, but her eyes were up, and she watched Rose as the door swung shut behind her with a soft boom.

"Sam," Rose said again, softly.

Sam's round face was flushed; her thick, wavy jaw-length hair was black from roots to about six inches from the bottom, where it transitioned to faded pink. Today, she looked awesome: platform creepers, ripped tights, a long flannel over a miniskirt, a ton of buttons and pins fastened to her lapels. Rose wanted to fiddle with her own holey thrift shop sweater and old jeans, but she made herself keep her hands by her sides.

"What do you want?" Sam burst out, suddenly, making Rose flinch. "There's nothing to say!"

"There's a ton to say-"

"About what you did? That...that thing?"

"What I did? I saved your life!"

"Only because you drew that thing in!" Sam cried. "Right? You and it are the same kind of thing, right? It sniffed you out and hunted you down and because of that it-"

She broke off, her whole body shaking.

"I don't understand," she went on. Her voice was small. "I can't tell anyone about it. I don't...I don't want to. In case they look deeper. In case they get hurt, and you're not there to help them- you or your- uh, your dad?"

Rose paused. "He's my-" She stopped. "Uh, it's...complicated-"

"Are you both-?"

"Sort of. Yeah-"

"Oh, what, it's complicated, too?" Sam pushed forward, uncrossing her arms. Despite being nearly a head shorter than Rose, she had a bulldog energy to her that almost made Rose back off. "Tell me the truth, Rose. What are you?"

"I-" Rose's mouth was dry. Be badass, kid, but be careful, Heisenberg might have said. He rarely took his own advice, but he was sure to drill it into her. Did she even know how to answer? No words came to her mouth. "I don't..."

"Answer me!" Sam grabbed her by the arm, hard. "What are you?"

A flare of light behind her eyes.

Oh god no-

Mold exploded from her in a whipping fountain of glistening black. Tentacles shoved Sam, hard, flinging her off; she hit the ground and skidded, thwacking into the far wall with a cry. The storm of mold whirled and twisted around Rose, making her hair snap around her shoulders, caught in a spectral wind.

Her mold.

The power rushed through her, heady, brilliant, so strong it felt like she'd swallowed live coals. More and more, that childish whisper pressed, deep in her mind. This is nothing. Show me what you've got, Rosemary-rue-

"No!" Rose screamed.

She flung her arms out. The mold rose- then collapsed. It oozed into blackish pools across the linoleum. Sam scrambled back as the puddles nearly reached her feet, then retracted, sucked up into Rose's skin. With a final ripple, the mold was gone, leaving nothing behind but cracks spiderwebbing across the mirrors in impact lines.

A light popped overhead, then went out.

"Get," Sam said, "the fuck. Out!"

Rose turned. She flung herself through the doors and ran, not stopping even when Katherine and the others called her name, fighting tears the whole way out.

[dzthenerd490]

File: The Bay

SCP#: AAK

Code Name: The Isopod Plague

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: The remaining SCP-AAK instances are contained in an aquatic pool at site-AA. The pool in question, is 4x4 meters wide and 10 meters deep. The water level of the pool is never to go any higher than 5 inches as going higher will allow the SCP-AAK instances a better chance to escape. A single live pig is thrown into the pool on a weekly basis for the instances to feed. This process must be kept to a weekly basis to prevent SCP-AAK from swarming into an uncontrollable population. Pigs have proven to be the best alternative food source to SCP-AAK’s normal diet, that being humans.

Above the pool is the regular floor of the containment chamber where a single Foundation staff member and two armed guards perform this process. The upper walls of the pool are made of a 1-meter-long electrified wall to prevent the stronger SCP-AAK instances from escaping. Foundation staff in charge of feeding SCP-AAK are encouraged to avoid throwing the pig at the wall ensuring it survives the fall to be eaten alive. Doing so ensures the SCP-AAK instances feed properly and don’t starve. The pool is regularly cleaned by a vacuum drone to prevent algae and mold growth in the water and walls. Any pig remains do not need to be removed as SCP-AAK instances tend to eat even the bones when hungry enough.

Description: SCP-AAK is a mutant species of the parasitic Isopod known as Cymothoa exigua. Like the normal parasite, SCP-AAK only eats the tongues and insides. However, SCP-AAK Instances have evolved beyond fish and now have an insatiable hunger for human flesh. Furthermore, SCP-AAK instances are more aggressive in that they force their way into the hosts by any means available. Once inside they eat the host form the inside out, usually eating the tongue as well. Like all parasites, SCP-AAK reproduce inside the host using the body as nourishment for the next generation.

Key signs of SCP-AAK infection include abnormally large rashes across the body, blisters and bumps on the skin, internal bleeding, intense skin sensitivity, and weakened immune system. Quickly following this are even worse symptoms being loss of tongue, loss of esophagus, intense bleeding, loss of reasoning, and body paralysis. From here the body continues to fall apart form the inside out until the host has finally died. Once all or most of the SCP-AAK instances have reached adulthood, they will tear their way out of the host and eat everything that remains until they come across new prey. The longest it has taken for an SCP-AAK instance to reach adulthood is 12 hours. However, the common speed of growth is anywhere between 4 to 6 hours. 

Testing has shown that SCP-AAK eggs are extremally adaptive to their host. This means that SCP-AAK instances born inside a host will always grow strong enough to kill that host and all other hosts of the same species with violent efficiency. Because of this, it is believed that if SCP-AAK was to be introduced to other stronger and more resilient hosts, the resulting newborns will grow bigger and stronger than before. It is for this reason that SCP-AAK is labeled as Object Class Euclid.  

SCP-AAK was discovered in 2009 at the small town of [data expunged]. Local doctors reported to the CDC for assistance with a possible new pathogen plaguing the town at an alarming rate. Fearing another SCP-AAA incident, the Foundation blocked off all roads to the town. Media outlets of surrounding towns were given the cover story that chemicals contaminated the water and killed off the town's population. Afterwards the Foundation deployed a quick clean-up and retrieval crew to find, contain, and quickly cover up any anomalous activity in the area. As well as search for survivors.

About an hour later, no contact was established with the clean-up and retrieval crew. Unfortunately, the only message that was received form the clean-up crew were the words "blood", "white bugs", and "their everywhere!". Afterwards the crew went completely radio silent as well as the rest of the town. In response Mobile Task Force Lambda-12 “Pest Control” was deployed. They were equipped with anti-insect biohazard ventilation suits, armed with Foundation standard rifles, and spray guns loaded with a foundation specialized pesticide. 

After five hours Lambda-12 forces were able to round up the remaining SCP-AAK instances and contain them in a biohazard metal case. Thankfully there were no issues transporting the SCP-AAK instances to Site-AA. However, the original clean-up crew was confirmed to be killed by SCP-AAK. It was later found out that SCP-AAK instances were mutated by experimental steroids being introduced to the fish and crabs of the town. By feeding on the steroid infused fish, the SCP-AAK instances grew as a result and wiped out all local aquatic life. With all the fish dead and consumed SCP-AAK moved on the local population, thus starting the whole pandemic in the first place.

Survivors were later found to have escaped the town and were trying to expose what happened to the world. Thankfully, all survivors were captured by the Foundation and given class C amnestics before they could release the evidence. All recordings were destroyed, and all bodies were cremated ensuring all evidence was erased. However, government officials involved with the steroid project were found and admitted to the Foundation as D Class. The steroids in general seem to have no anomalous properties and thus were not labeled as such. How exactly they were able to give the SCP-AAK instances their anomalous properties are unknown. 

Side note: A request by Dr. [data expunged] has been made to have SCP-AAK kill SCP-682 along with other dangerous and organic SCP's. Denial or acceptance of the request is still pending.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[notdrifting]

RETIRED MUSES

under the cut are the characters i will be retiring for an indeterminate time.

「DESU PARĒDO」

DECIM

apparently emotionless and serious, his detached manner of speech and manners suggest that he'd rather not bring any personal feelings to the table, which is possibly due to the fact that he lacks understanding of human emotions. the bartender of quindecim and arbiter for the dead, he deals with people who died at the same time, having the victims to play a game to pass on judgement on the souls for them to either be reincarnated or be sent to the void.

「GAMES」

BUBBLE HEAD NURSE 「silent hill」

the physical manisfestation of james and mary's frustrations towards the american health care system, which was unable to identify or cure mary's fatal illness. when she fell ill, james expressed anger towards her doctor for "letting mary die". mary also expressed frustration, feeling the hospital was profiting off her suffering. the term "bubble head" is an insult used to call someone foolish and stupid, and could symbolize james feeling mary's nurses were incompetent and he didn't even bother or care enough to familiarize himself with mary's nurses, possibly because he already lost faith and hope in them.  [pansexual/panromantic]

CLAUDIA WOLF 「silent hill」

the high priestess of the religious cult known as the Order which is based in silent hill, sister claudia feels that humanity and society have become too evil, corrupt, full of suffering, and a lost cause. her mission is to save humanity from itself by hastening the rebirth of her cult's god in order to create paradise and begin a new world untainted by human immorality and free of anguish; this means cleansing the current world of its sins by hellfire. re!au: follower of mother miranda  [homosexual/homoromantic]

CYBIL BENNETT 「silent hill」

as a child, she saw her parents shot in the head, and this ended up influencing her decision to become a police officer. she is a police officer from brahms, a town next to silent hill. re!au: former s.t.a.r.s and current member of bsaa.  [homosexual/homoromantic]

EILEEN GALVIN 「silent hill」

the mother reborn, victim 20/21 - henry townshend's neighbor, living beside his apartment in room 303. eileen lived in room 303 before henry's arrival, as she knew joseph schreiber until his mysterious disappearance.eileen studied archaeology when she was in college and eventually becomes trapped alongside henry townshend in walter sullivan's nightmare world and is severely injured by walter before henry is able to rescue her. re!au: she was a discarded vessel for eva.  [bisexual/biromantic]

ETHAN WINTERS 「resident evil」

trained as systems engineer, he is one of many mutant victims of biological weaponry, winters was infected with a weaponized species of "mold" during the 2017 dulvey incident. he and his wife mia were rescued by the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, and were placed under witness protection in eastern europe. this protection ultimately unraveled in february 2021 when their daughter, rosemary, was abducted by mother miranda. winters was successful in rescuing rosemary, but gave his life to save his daughter from miranda.  [pansexual/panromantic]

MOTHER MIRANDA 「resident evil」

biologist and cult leader who ruled over an isolated mountain village from 1919 to 2021. after losing her only daughter to the spanish flu, she discovered and became infected by the mold within a nearby cave. gaining vast knowledge and superhuman powers from the infection, she pioneered research on this mysterious fungus and used it to conduct experiments on local villagers over the next century, hoping to find the perfect vessel to revive her daughter.  [pansexual/aromantic]

MARIA 「silent hill」

born from a wish - she meets james sunderland in rosewater park in silent hill, maine, and stays with him sporadically after that. she is essentially a manifestation, mental construct or figment of james' seemingly delusional imagination. she was produced by james' delusions as a result of his inability to bear the weight of the crime of killing his wife, mary shepherd-sunderland. similar to a dream character, she is seen defying death and questions james's perceptions of whether or not her death actually occurred.  re!au: mary was a discarded vessel for eva but ended up dying, returning as maria with some mutant habilities.  [pansexual/panromantic]

ROSEMARY WINTERS 「resident evil」

an american superhuman. the daughter of mutants mia & ethan winters, winters' body was comprised entirely of mold, which was replicating human dna. following her rescue from an outbreak in eastern europe, rose grew up under special protection.

PYRAMID HEAD 「silent hill」

he is a manifestation of a person's desire to be punished for their misdeeds. he is the judge, jury and executioner for the mysterious dark powers of the town. while his actions are cruel and horrific, he is a driving force for someone to come to terms with what they've done, albeit in the most brutal manner possible.  [pansexual/panromantic]

「HANNIBAL」

LADY MURASAKI

the widowed wife of count robert lecter and aunt of hannibal lecter.  [bisexual/biromantic]

MISCHA LECTER

the youngest daughter of count lecter and simonetta sforza-lecter as well as the younger sister of hannibal lecter, as a little girl  mischa was innocent and adored by her parents and protected by her brother. after being captured by a group led by vlad grutas she was apparently killed and eaten by the grup. canon div! the child who was actually eaten was the albanian boy, mischa managed to escape but was heavily wounded, which later resulted on her having a limp. after being adopted by a family loosely related to her mother's family, mischa eventually became a criminal lawyer and keeps the in secret the fact that she's a lecter.  [pansexual/demiromantic] 

「HARRY POTTER」

SALAZAR SLYTHERIN

famous for his cunning and determination, salazar was regarded as one of the greatest wizards of the age. particularly skilled in parselmouth and in legilimens, he was one of the four founders of hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry along with godric gryffindor, helga hufflepuff and rowena ravenclaw.  [homosexual/homoromantic]

BELLADONNA MONTENEGRO 「original character」

exchange student from castelobruxo, slytherin, same family descent than the blacks. herbology genius.  [homosexual/homoromantic]

BELLATRIX LESTRANGE

the dark lord’s right hand, heiress of house black and proud slytherin.  [pansexual/panromantic]

「NARUTO」

SENJU SATSUKI 「original character」

in my jiraiya’s infinite tsukuyomi dream  he has everything he always wanted in life, the love of his life  by his side and a family of his own. everything is going well as they are all preparing to go to naruto’s ceremony as he’ll become hokage when the dream becomes corrupted and his two kids end up on opposite sides in a deadly battle.  [homosexual/homoromantic]

SENJU YOSHIKADO 「original character」

in my jiraiya’s infinite tsukuyomi dream  he has everything he always wanted in life, the love of his life  by his side and a family of his own. everything is going well as they are all preparing to go to naruto’s ceremony as he’ll become hokage when the dream becomes corrupted and his two kids end up on opposite sides in a deadly battle.  [asexual/aromantic]

UCHIHA HANAMI 「original character」

hanami uchiha is the daughter of the slug sage sakura and the head of the uchiha clan madara. despite her playful & carefree disposition, hanami can prove herself to be a ruthless adversary in battle. oc affiliated with shikkotsunin's sakura and uchiha-madara's madara.  [17] [homosexual/homoromantic]

ŌTSUTSUKI HIGURUMA 「original character」

the eldest son of hamura; fc: dio eraclea from last exile. under co.

[thedepthsiskindtome]

Goebbels!Izuku Au

(pls bear with me)

In almost every story of LoV!Izuku ever, Izuku is either a) Strategist/Quirk Analyst, b)Leader, or C)The lynchpin that keeps this dysfunctional group of murder mc'killers together.

And while I love them, it also gets kinda boring after a while.

So, I present to you….

Propagandist!Izuku

The Goebbels to Tomura's Third Reich.

While he is STILL QUIRKLESS, having the power to make people explode is not required to control the narrative.

Lurking in-between falsehoods, twisted truths and borrowed voices. Izuku is the head of the propaganda department, the sly whisper in the breeze that get echoed by an army, given enough time.

He tried to protest, slowly at first, under the pseudonym of Mikumo Akatani or GreenBean02. But after The Incident™, it left him bitter, spitfire burning up a beacon. piercing the sky and letting it bleed.

Eventually, All For One noticed.

Vastly Change Canon. -USJ will be scrapped, cause it does not need to be here.

It starts simple. A lazy sidekick here, a slightly too trigger happy hero there, letting that distrust simmer. A snowball thrown.

And then, it starts getting traction.

A Top 100 Ranker being convicted of embezzlement, a quirkist politician(aren't they all?), a hospital denying treatment to a poor, young, sweet, innocent mutant. A drunk hero off duty beating up a starving child caught shoplifting a can of soup. The same hero using his position to molest an intern, leading to her stepping in front of a train, delaying it by half an hour for cleanup.

People are beginning to notice, slowly at first. Murmurs and whispers on unmoderated forums, on the beat up alleyways that always seem to smell of mold and old vomit and cigarettes soot and dog piss, forgotten corners where vagrants sleep atop old cardboard boxes.

They will not stand for this injustice, aren't they supposed to be our saviors? The shining,star spangled idols of the current and future generation, faces plastered on cereal boxes and women's underwear and plushies made in a sweatshop by underpaid laborers.

And then, like a spark that caught a trail of gasoline, it exploded, burning away the rotten, waterlogged floorboard to reveal the graveyard underneath.

Endeavor's little eugenics experiment, Hawks and all the commissions literal child soldiers.

All Might being but a fragile mortal, a neighborhood jog away from death's awaiting door.

Is this your heroes? Your lustrous, virtuous paragons?(not so mighty now, eh all might?) See how they are hollow and bare. They cannot protect you. They cannot save you, for they themselves are in need of saving. They are rusted and decrepit and no longer worthy of our trust.

The aftershock is felt. Every other mouth speaks, whether it be frustrated disagreement, teeth gnashing and chipped, how dare they criticize our gods!, Or quiet agreement, a glint of hope that, finally, Finally I'm not the only one who sees this anymore.

The insanity self-propagates, the so called Hero Public Safety Commission censoring the disloyal, further providing fuel to add to the pyre. Heroes caught in different factions. Panic and hysteria seeps in the populace.

The rate of deaths during protests increased by 43% this year, steadily rising.

Then, at the (too)perfect timing, a modern messiah appeared, Tomura Shiragaki.

He who promised that he had heard your pleas and woes, that in the world he is planning to create, there would not be a hero or villain needed to exist. That people will no longer be judged by the color of their skin or the scaled on their back, but by the weight of their character.

He who promised that everyone, no matter their place, will be guaranteed shelter and food to eat, the funds of the populace no longer being diverted to whenever a squabble between comic book characters inevitably destroy public infrastructure. How no one will no longer be judged on what mystical lottery prize they receive from the winnowed hands of fate.

How he will make Japan great again.

Such lofty promises sooth the hearts of men, if only for a while, and meanwhile the one closest to a god laughs, for those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it.

[phenomenal1500]

What If We Had The Choice? | Resident Evil Village

Summary: What would have happened if Ethan had sided with Heisenberg? Unfortunately, Capcom didn't give us the chance to make a choice, so for the enthusiasts.... this would have happened if we had had been given the choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan stepped foot inside the dark, dusty factory with a bad premonition. He kept his gun in front of him at all costs as he carefully pushed the first rusty door he encountered open and when he noticed the coast was clear, he also made his way through the badly lit hallway that had appeared from behind the heavy door. He was so close in having his daughter back that he couldn't back down... not now. Another nasty hallway followed and finally, when he took a turn to his right, he spotted an huge curtain hanging ahead of him in a square room. It seemed to hide the wall and table behind it and Ethan struggled with the thought off shoving it to the right to peak behind it or to just leave it be. With his curiosity taking over he pulled the curtain from the beam to which it was attached to and small photos appeared.

Some of them were old pictures of the lords, scratched through with a red marker, while others were pictures of the incidents that had happened around the village since Ethan had arrived there. The pictures reflected in Ethan's eyes and one stood out to him. "Mia?"

"Truth hurts, don't it?" Ethan turned with a quick motion, spotting the man Ethan had met earlier who now stepped out of the shadows directly behind him. The dark and round glasses covered the man's eyes as well as his fedora hat that slightly slanted over his left eye and the long tattered coat fluttered behind him as he took a puff of his Cuban cigar. Ash fell from his cigar as thick white smoke floated around the man's almost completely covered face. "Let me guess." The forth and strongest Lord continued after puffing his cigar once more. "You're thinking take me out like the others, and then you get to go and safe Rose, right?"

"I'm healing my daughter." Ethan bit back.

"Look, y-...you've got this all wrong-..." Lord Heisenberg signed with his hands up in the air to strengthen his words, but he then was cut off by an horrible loud sound coming from under them. "Dammit, I'm talking here!" The man whined, pinching his noise before storming his way towards the hatch to pull it open with ease. "Shut your fucking hole!"

Ethan had no idea what to except or where this conversation was going, certainly not with someone different than the other mutated humans he had met. Alcina Dimitrescu had already some hatred towards men like him, perhaps even all men in general, and was conspiring with Miranda so of course she wanted him dead from the beginning. Donna Beneviento seemed more reasonable and neutral about the situation, but was still crazy as fuck and was also still under Miranda's control. Same goes for Salvatore Moreau, except for the fact he wasn't just following and conspiring with Miranda. He saw Mother Miranda as his real mother and he was so desperate to prove his worth to the other house lords and Mother Miranda that he unfortunately also wasn't able to negotiate with.

However, Lord Heisenberg was someone different. He came across Ethan as more controlled than the other Lords despite being a bit of a direct man. "Sorry about that." The man apologised as he straightened his back. Ethan, still confused whether he had to have patient and listen to the man or take action while it was still possible, stood in the room watching the man in doubt while he snatched a chair from beside a cupboard to place it by the hatch.

"Take a seat." Heisenberg ordered and Ethan stayed in his place, not obeying his competitor. "Listen, Ethan. You're being played."

"What are you talking about? You think this is a game?" Ethan hissed through his teeth meanwhile the lord put out his Cuban cigar, pressing the burning side onto the small table. Ethan had expected some sort of answer from the mutant, but to his surprise Heisenberg aggressively tossed a knife towards the wall covered in pictures and pushed Ethan into the unsteady metal chair instead... the chair almost staggering over the edge of the big hole by all the force falling down onto it.

"I said sit!!" Heisenberg backed off a bit afterwards and continued his story. "Lady super-sized bitch..." The knife stabbed the wall as it made its way to the picture of Lady Dimitrescu. "Ugly-ass psycho doll...." The knife again marked the wall, now resting in the photo of Donna Beneviento and Angie Beneviento. "And that moronic freak." The knife made one last change in direction, the picture of Salvatore Moreau. "Don't you get it? It's a test, to see if you're strong enough... to be part of Miranda's family."

"I don't want to be part of Miranda's family."

"Neither did I! But here we are." Heisenberg raised his voice and Ethan took in a deep breath. "And I'm next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain! Well, fuck that!!" The knife carved the wall as it was forced through the image of Mother Miranda, messing it up.

"I don't give a damn about your personal issues! I just want to fix my daughter!" The lord laughed in response.

"So do I! Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda is scared of her..." For a second time there was a very loud engine sound hearable and the man deeply sighed in frustration. "Last time, you freak, I swear to god!"

Afterwards making his way to Ethan, Lord Heisenberg gave away his green and grey eyes by removing his glasses and held his chin up, the hat moving a bit upwards to reveal his full face. Scars were located all across his face and he smirked.

"You and me, Ethan! Together we go save Rose, and then we can use her to grind Miranda to paste." Heisenberg closed his fist with strength, acting like he was squeezing a bug to death. Ethan stood before a tough decision; Fight Lord Heisenberg and then hope he could safe his daughter from Mother Miranda all alone... or collude against Mother Miranda with the help of Heisenberg and save his daughter that way. He knew it was wrong to work together with someone who was once his enemy and was willing to use his daughter as a weapon, but it gave him more certainty to actually succeed and get his little girl back. Ethan stood up from his chair and swallowed before nodding.

"When do we start?"

~~~

Heisenberg had taken Ethan to his lab to explain what he'd been up to all along and both men now faced each other while sitting down onto different obsolete metal sofas. "Most of this was already put in working before I decided to show up here to save Rose?"

"This is my fucking lifework. Years I have been creating these soldats to deal with Miranda once and for all. It's time for her to die." The man passionately spoke up and pointed at the soldats hanging from a conveyor belt that ran through the factory. "So, Ethan Winters, what do you say?"

"The plan sounds good to me."

"Well then, lets get to work. See you on the other side... Ethan."

Ethan knew exactly what to do because Heisenberg had explained in detail what the plan was. Ethan was going to disturb the ceremony that was taking place so that the lord could launch a surprise attack on Miranda with his invented army. Although, before it could work, Ethan first had to stop by the Duke to restock his ammunition and healing juice. Fast traveling over the stone bridge towards the elevator in the altar, he returned to the Duke.

"Ah... Ethan Winters. I feel like this will be the last time we meet again... It was quite some news to hear you joined Lord Heisenberg's side." The duke folded his hands together, somewhere deep down noticeable that he was delighted to see his loyal customer and good friend back alive.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

"You had a choice, but knew that this settlement would be most effective. Now, I suppose you have to act quickly so feel free to peruse." Buying ammunition and healing juice with the last money Ethan had, the friends said their last goodbyes and carried on their separated ways. This would be it. This would be the moment where Ethan would finally get his daughter Rose back. Shoving himself through the filthy black strands know as mold, he saw the blond woman in her black and gold robe shouting for Eva, her dead daughter she lost to the Spanish flu, to be reborn. The moment Ethan wanted to fire his first shot with his M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum, there was a sharp sound audible and then loud rock music followed.

"What the-....?" Ethan cursed under his breath, not knowing what the fuck was happening, but the distractive music seemed to caught Miranda off guard and the chamber of mold crumbled down around them. It looked like Miranda had lost her focus. The distraction gave Ethan a better shot and Miranda jerked her head towards him, glaring deathly at him as he pulled the trigger. The bullet didn't do much to her, but the arena was now free from the mold and it was possible for Heisenberg to step into the destroyed area, which he did. He was still secretly jamming to the loud rock music that was playing on his speakers back in the factory and Ethan wondered what the actual limit of the volume was because it was so terribly loud, even from where they were now.

"Heisenberg! I should have known you were planning an rebellion against me. Unfortunately for the both of you, the ceremony will be complete once dawn breaks and I will become her true mother!" Miranda shouted dramatically and opened her arms widely, letting her six wings stretch out before her mutation took place. Heisenberg just scoffed and threw his Cuban cigar to the ground, stepping on it.

"I'm not letting you get away." Ethan yelled, shooting a few more times at the orange eye that was visible in the upper center of her face. It probably was her weakness. In the meantime that Ethan was busy shooting at the six winged dead looking woman, Heisenberg simply just leaned on his hammer. His head was banging to the music while he watched the scene for a moment, but that was until he forced himself to participate into the battle as well. Putting his thumb and index finger close to his mouth, he whistled as noisy as possible and immediately an army of Lycans and soldats joined him. Miranda was amazed at what was happening before her eyes, but managed to kill several soldats at once with the mold spearing them. Heisenberg groaned in frustration, understanding that his life creations perhaps weren't fully prepared for these kind of attacks coming from her.

Heisenberg sighed and closed his green, grey eyes. It was time... time for him to mutate and face Miranda together with Ethan. He had to defeat her. That was what he wished for all these years after all. Heisenberg listened to the guitar solo in the background as his mind started to control and use the metal scrap from his broken soldats to continue his mutation. Ethan couldn't be distracted by the creature Heisenberg had become and so he kept his attention strictly on Miranda, ready to hit her again. Sadly, he was out of luck. His M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum ran out of ammo and while Ethan tried to block her next attack, Heisenberg seized the opportunity to knock her to the ground before she had the change to launch herself at Ethan.

Heisenberg accelerated his actions and grabbed Miranda tightly before pressing her against one of the broken stone walls. With his other metal arm he activated his saw and wounded her body, but soon found out she could regenerate herself. Her spider legs turned into wings, bigger than before, and she hurled the flames she had summoned when Heisenberg wasn't paying attention. He was blinded and was pushed back by the blow. The lord quickly realized that his mutation was quite easy for Miranda to defeat because of the length and width of his mechanistic form and he turned back to his human form. This way he could use the metal scrap for a shield and dodge all her attacks faster.

"Ethan! Bring your ass over here!" The man growled, seeing that Ethan was laying somewhere on the floor, being completely useless, and Ethan raised to his feet... stumbling a bit, but not giving up.

"I don't have any fucking bullets left!"

"Well good luck keeping her focused on you then!" His gravelly voice yelled over the rock music for only Ethan to hear and he shook his head in confusion, though, he had no time to understand it because Miranda immediately jumped right in front of him. The lord had time to create a stairs of the floating metal with activating his abilities and he ran to the top, hoping Miranda hadn't seen this shit coming or else they both were certainly doomed. Ethan, meanwhile, was fighting off the woman and it was the perfect timing for Heisenberg to put his second plan in working. Heisenberg dropped himself from the stairs, his hammer above his head and aiming at the weakness of Mother Miranda. Hitting her, her back was blown into the floor and she screamed in agony. The combo of the shots of the M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum and the terribly heavy hammer had managed to defeat her.

"My daughter.... My Eva!" She held her arms high and went numb, her body falling apart and turning into ash.

"After an eternity.... that bitch is finally gone." Heisenberg laughed enthusiastically and turned around to face Ethan only to see him crumbling down with Rose in his arms.

"I think we finished each other...."

[uhhhhhhhhh-ummmmmmmmm-trollge]

Love making trollges fluffy

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Having recently brute-binged my way through not just Resident Evil 8: Village, but (almost) the ENTIRETY OF THE RESIDENT EVIL FRANCHISE, now I’m curious. How much RE lore do you know? I need to know if you know Village from more than just memes.

Alright, here's Resident Evil as I understand it. Feel free to correct me on anything I get wrong.

Everything began with Umbrella Corp and the T-Virus that they found in some sort of ancient flower. Umbrella took it and experimented with it, trying to find a way to manipulate the virus into some sort of controllable bioweapon. Unfortunately, one of their testing sites, the Spencer Mansion, suffered an outbreak and the residents were turned into some sort of mutants that resembled pop culture zombies.

Eventually, things spread to the nearby Racoon City where Umbrella took the opportunity to test their superweapons, Nemesis and Mr. X. Specifically to hunt down those who had been involved in the Spencer Mansion incident. Jill Valentine, Claire Redfield, and Leon Kennedy managed to escape before Racoon City was nuked.

The previously mentioned, along with Chris Redfield, were recruited into a government response team that, in the short term, was meant to deal with Umbrella and, in the long term, deal with any bioweapons that may turn up. The events of Racoon City had kickstarted a new International Arms Race between countries and corporations all looking to develop the next big bioweapon.

Throughout all this, Albert Wesker had been making himself known and cementing his place as the Main Villain by becoming the optimal Super Human through exposure to a specific strain of the T-Virus.

The Response team would deal with various other bioweapons like the G-Virus and eventually taking down Umbrella itself. However, the arms race for new bioweapons continued. Eventually Chris Redfield would dispatch Wesker and rescue his beloved Jill, who had also been turned into a superhuman under Wesker's control.

This leads us to a new chapter of Resident Evil lore, the Winters saga. Ethan Winters' wife, Mia, worked for some shady company who was developing a strain of fungus/mold that could serve as a new bioweapon, codenamed Evelyn as she was spawned from the E-Strain. However, Evelyn became uncontrollable and ended up at the Baker Family property, infecting everyone there and turning the Bakers into her monstrous mind-controlled "family".

Eventually, Ethan Winters came and was able to dispatch the family and save his wife, eventually dispatching Evelyn herself with the help of Chris Redfield and the response team, who later finished off the final member of the Baker family.

This leads us to the events of the latest game, Resident Evil Village. Ethan and Mia were both left mutants by their experiences at the Baker home, and they were allowed to live freely while under the observation of the Response Team lead by Chris Redfield. Ethan and Mia's daughter, Rosemary, is unique among mutants as she is completely comprised of mold, making her perhaps the most powerful recorded mutant in history.

Unfortunately, this was learned by Mother Miranda, a former scientist who had been studying the mold, but went mad after getting infected and losing her daughter. Miranda kidnapped Rosemary, intending to use her to bring back her daughter. Ethan, if he wanted to get her back, would have to fight through the four lords who were infected in such a way as to resemble creatures from folklore (vampire, werewolf, kappa, ghost/demon).

Unfortunately, while ultimately successful, the events of the village resulted in the deaths of Ethan and Mia, leaving little Rosemary in the care of Chris Redfield.

[highlifeboat]

Scenario Time, its been a couple years in the dimitrescu household, Mia & Alcina have been together for a while now, the girls now see Mia as a second mother and Rose is now a toddler that as just started talking.

However, there as been a couple incidents surrounding Rose getting a hold of weird items. Mia's electronics, Alcina's hats and one time (horrifyingly) Daniela's sickle.

At first everyone thought Rose just inherited Ethan's ratlike abilities to horde things. Up until Rose starts to claim its her other 'sister' sharing with her.

It all comes to a head one night, when one of the cellar dwellers manage to get into Rose's room. Cue the panicking family, all sprinting to make sure she's safe. Only to find a large mass of mold were the beast should have been.

Rose is clapping her hands chanting " Evie Evie Evie"

Not my finest work, but here’s a little thing;

Cassandra wrinkles her nose as Daniela takes a closer look at the black crystallized mass in the center of the room. Bela quickly picks up Rose and backs away, the toddler giggling as she wiggles in her oldest sister's arms while she checks her for any physical damage. Alcina’s eyebrows knit together, in all her years on this planet she’s never seen anything like it. Daniela taps it with the back of her sickle, jumping a little when the fingers of what was once a monster crumble and turn into a puddle on the floor.

“What is this sh… stuff?” The redhead takes a harder swing and the mass falling into a puddle in response. The girls all take a step away. “Ew… Besides a mess for the maids to clean…”

“Maybe… Rose did this?” Cassandra suggests, looking back at both of her mothers. “Mama said she’s part mutant, right?”

Alcina bites her lower lip as she thinks. Her head turns to Mia, and her concern suddenly shifts when she notices her wife has turned ghostly pale. Her whole body is rigid and her hands are trembling as she stares at the pile of black goo. “Darling?” Alcina gently puts a hand on Mia’s shoulder, and the shorter woman jumps in response. “Are you alright?”

She inhales, ignoring Alcina’s question as her focus turns to Rose, who has since calmed down Bela’s arms. “Rosey, look at mama.” She gently holds the toddler’s face, giving a stern look at the innocent eyes staring back. “Sweetie, did… Evie… do this?” Rose smiles as she yells the name again. “Where is she now?” Mia can feel her family staring at her, but her eyes are locked on Rose until she points her little hand towards the bed the monster had loomed over. The mother swallows, the feeling of another set of eyes on her sends a chill down her spine, and once again it was Alcina who broke her sudden trance.

“We can deal with it later.” She states, all eyes now on the matriarch. “For now, Bela, go make sure that basement door is locked. Tightly.” The oldest girl nods, passing the toddler to Alcina on her way out. “You two go check that there aren't anymore of those creatures running around, and if there are, kill them.” Daniela and Cassandra let out a simultaneous “Yes, mother.” before rushing out of the room in a swarm of flies. Alcina cradles Rose in one arm as her attention returns to her wife, whose gaze is fixed on the bed. She isn’t sure what Mia is seeing, if anything at all, but the room has put her on edge and that was enough for Alcina to gently usher her out of it and towards their own bedroom. She sits on the bed, allowing Rose to roam the covers as Mia paces the floor. “Mia, what do you know about this?”

The younger woman runs a hand through her hair. “I know… whatever is in Rose’s bedroom is Mold. I know it’s infectious. I know the maidens probably shouldn’t touch it.”

“Mold…” Alcina thinks for a moment. “That’s… what caused you and Rose to have mutations, is it not?”

“Yes, but it’s kind of limited to regeneration. Rose can’t turn things into Mold. At least, I don’t think she can….” In truth Mia wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Connections had never tested a child born with the genetic mutation before. “If Evie is around-”

“Rose’s little imaginary sister?” Now Alcina sounds skeptical, and Mia lets out a sigh.

“Evie isn’t imaginary.” She sits on the bed beside her wife. “Do you remember when I told you about the Baker Farm? How I was transporting a bioweapon and it… took over the family?” Alcina nods slowly. “Evie… Eveline was the weapon… She was a little girl, or at least she looked like one, and she thought…” Mia pauses. She can almost feel the familiar sensation of claws in her throat. “She was trying to make a family, and she turned them into monsters. And maybe it’s a coincidence, but if Eveline is back…”

Alcina rubs her back when Mia’s breathing quickens. “It will be okay….”

“What if it isn’t? What if she infects the maidens, or one of the girls, or you?” Mia puts her face in her hands.

“Nothing will happen.” She tries to reassure her, and pulls her wife into her lap. “If it makes you feel better, my daughters and myself might not be able to get infected. We’re already mutated.” She doesn’t know if that’s true, but if it helps in calming down her darling then it doesn’t matter at the moment. “And we’ll make sure Rose is safe. Nothing will happen to either of you while I’m around. I promise….” They stay like that for a moment, until the excited squeal of Rose gets their attention.

“Evie!” The toddler grins, and Mia pales again at the sight of a girl, no older than ten, in a deep navy dress and black rubber boots, staring at them through a curtain of messy black hair standing in the doorway.

“Hello, mommy.” Eveline says with a smile that makes the younger woman’s blood run cold. “Did you miss me?”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 28)

“Him!? You’re with him now?” Ethan shouts. 

“As if you haven’t been flouncing around with that.” Mia hisses, nodding her head in the direction of Alcina. Alcina who is still very much an absurdly large dragon. “She’s not a thing, she’s…”“A monster.” Mia mumbles. “God, Ethan, we’re all monsters.”

“Do you think that Rose is a monster?”

“Of course not!” She hollers.

“Rose is mold.” He points out. “I am. You were infected by Eveline’s mold. It isn’t the mold that makes the monster. It isn’t the mutation. It’s who we were before that.” Ethan smiles. He holds Rose to his chest. “Rose won’t be a monster because we won’t raise one.” 

“There is no we, Ethan. Monsters or not, everything that has happened since Eveline has changed things. I thought that we could just forget about it and move on, raise our baby and pretend like we are just average people…”

“Of course we can’t just forget about it.” Heaven knows that, even before coming to the village, he had nightmares. Nightmares where he looked upon Mia and only saw the old and withered face of Eveline overlapped with the face of a ten year old. Nightmares where she is three entities at once and separate all the same. 

Even before coming to the village his mind would wander back to the Baker House Incident. To the lies and the deceit. His mind would do circles trying to separate the truths for the falsehoods. Trying to distinguish how much of his relationship with Mia was genuine and how much was merely a front, a role to play. 

“You have more in common with him, don’t you?” He nods at Chris.

Mia is quiet for a very long time. “He’s a good man, Ethan. He’s strong, he’s brave, he’s smart…”

“And I’m not strong and brave?” He snaps. “Do you know what I went through to find Rose!? To get her back to us, to get back to you?” It only occurs to him after saying it that he hadn’t really thought about getting back to Mia at all. “I thought you were dead.” He contradicts himself. “I saw you get shot. That’s the only reason why I--” He stops himself before he can tell another lie. Because it isn’t, Mia is here right now and he still thinks of Dimitrescu.

Mia shakes her head. “Well here I am, Ethan.” Her voice is softer now. “I’m here and I think that we both found better matches.” He hears the unspoken, “I did, anyways” in her voice. 

“What about Rose?”

“I’m not going to leave her, Ethan. We’ll share custody…”

And there it is, the divorce he should have seen coming. The one that they probably should have had after the Baker Incident. 

He laughs out loud, “what are we doing? We’re standing in the middle of dead mold surrounded by agents and mutants and we’re giving them a soap opera.” 

Mia laughs out loud. He missed that laugh. He is going to miss it like hell. “Go take care of your dragon...vampire...lady...whatever she is.” 

“She’s Alcina.” He replies. He thinks that that is the most adequate title for her--just Alcina or Lady Dimitrescu. He passes Rose to Mia, “Might as well get Chris friendly with her.” He tries to laugh. With Mia’s nod, he wanders his way over to Alcina. 

He climbs back up the length of the dragon until he reaches the body tethered to it. He lays a hand on her shoulder, “you can’t transform back now.”

“I can’t, Winters.” She grits her teeth. “I’m stuck like this. How am I supposed to take care of my daughters?”

“The dagger cured you the last time…”

“That dagger ruined me.”

“I can hand it to Chris and see if he can modify whatever it was laced with.” 

“What am I supposed to do until then? What if he can’t do it?”

“Mia and I have uncovered many of Miranda’s research notes.” Chris notes. “Get me the dagger and I will be able procure an antidote of some kind.” 

.oOo.

An antidote…

Her stomach sinks. It is just another word for cure. She doesn’t know what is worse to remain in this form or find herself back in her ailed human body. She is strong to the point of weakness in one form and plainly week in the next.

She supposes that, in her human form she can at least hold her daughters. She can sleep in her castle and find comfort. As of now she is stuck outside with the cold seeping beneath her flesh. She is too large to fit through the door. Should she manage to squeeze into her castle she would only knock her wings against the walls and send vases and drawers crashing to the floor. 

Her muscles ache and her head hurts. It is so terribly cold and she has no means of relief. She has only a knowledge that she has done this to herself. That she had let Miranda whisk her away and warp her seemingly beyond repair. 

“Alright, Alcina, we have another one.” Ethan emerges from her castle. “Chris is on his way…” She knows the spiel. Chris arrives, she gets a good stab, she bleeds, and it is for nothing. “You should really talk to your daughters.”

“You know that they can’t come out here.”

“But you can go to the window.”

“And what? Shout like a fool?” She knows that it is just an excuse. They can probably hear her loud and clear right now. Mostly she doesn’t want them to see her like this. It is troublesome enough that Winters, Heisenberg, Slavatore, Redfield, and Mrs. Winters have seen her like this. 

That is too many eyes already. 

And Heisenberg, that miserable man! He always has a comment at the ready and this time she has none to say back. She can’t even particularly disagree with him this time. She had done this to herself. She is repulsive to look at and she very much does make Salvatore look like Adonis. 

As carefully as she can manage, Alcina wraps her claws around Ethan’s body and lifts him to eye level. She brushes a massive claw against his small cheek. And the man smiles. Somehow, he is still able to smile when he looks upon her ruined face.

She would like to be held but she is much too large for that to be possible. But it doesn’t stop the man from trying. He wiggles his way out of her grasp and wraps his arm around one of her claws--to the same effect of wrapping his arms around a tree trunk. 

“You can come over here.” She mutters.

“I could.” He agrees. 

She would rather like him to be close to her when Chris comes with the dagger. The experience is always quite painful. Frankly she isn’t sure how much more abuse she can take. Ethan makes his way over to her and presses a kiss to her forehead. She could tear up, she very nearly does; she hadn’t imagined that anyone would want to look at her for too long, let alone kiss her, in this form. Ethan’s hand finds the spot beneath her ribcage that Chris will soon be slipping the dagger into. It, having open and mended too many times, is now raw and raised and more unsightly than the rest of her. He rubs that rough patch with his thumb until Chris tells him to move out of the way. 

He holds her tightly, his head resting on her shoulder. She takes a sharp breath as the dagger plunged into her side. It doesn’t matter how expected it is, it still comes as a shock. The flare still erupts with the same agonizing intensity. 

He squeezes her tighter still. 

And she waits. Waits to feel the aches and pains of transformation.

They do not come and her head dips down. “Winters, you should probably try to win your wife back because…”

“Listen, I am a mold man. Don’t you think that it would be hypocritical for me to leave you because of a mutation.”

“I can’t even get into my castle. I can’t hold my daughters. How do you think that we can be intimate?”

Ethan quirks a brow, “a little creativity can go a long way.”

“The point is that this will be too much of a hassle. More of a hassle than it’s worth.” Perhaps she had been worth complication several months back, but now there is no payoff for it. 

“I’m not going to leave you.” This time he kisses her on the lips. 

.oOo.

It is the worst when he leaves her. When he retreats back inside the castle and she is left outside alone. When the snowflakes sparkle as they dance in the moonrays. By the time she wakes in the morning she will have a fresh layer of snow to shake away. 

She can’t live like this.

She finds, lately, that she doesn’t particularly want to live at all. 

She looks up at the moon, at the stars. She remembers a night so long ago. A winter night in a city at the height of the jazz ages. She remembers looking up at a glimmering moon. The holidays had been just around the corner. They had just finished a show in tribute to the festivities. 

The moon is the same. 

The stars are the same. 

The snow falls the same. 

But the mood is different. 

It is colder. Harsher. Painful…

She is in pain. It starts as only a tickle that she can’t scratch, fanning out from her ribcage, spreading over her tummy and back and creeping its way up her chest and neck, over her shoulders…

It is an ache, a horrible ache and a pressure. A squeezing and constricting. Her chest is tight, breathing is becoming steadily more difficult. And she finds herself hoping that this is it. That her body will crumble and crystalize. 

.oOo.

The dragon lies curled on its side, fallen and withering. It’s scales are flaking off and turning to crystal. Already a heap of it lies glittering and glinting in the show. Ethan’s stomach drops and he dashes over. Oh, God, if she’s dead…

The queasiness in his belly grows with each step closer until he makes it to the Alcina part of the dragon. She is buried under limp tendrils. His breathing quickens as he pushes them aside. Pushes them aside and…

“Winters?” The strain in her voice is painful to listen to. 

“Who else?” He asks. He cups his hand over her cheek, a familiar, soft cheek. Her eyes close again and he gives that cheek two soft slaps. He only seems to half-rouse her. “You better not die now!”

“And you call me dramatic.” She grumbles. But he can see it in her eyes that she fears that she might just. 

“You have to get up.”

“I’m tired, Winters.” Regardless, she heaves herself upright. 

.oOo.

Her mind is still somewhat hazy. Dazed enough for it to not fully register that she is propped up by her arms. That she has arms again. Her eyelids feel so heavy, she can feel herself nodding off again. The throbbing is so incessant and the sensation is a full body one. 

That is how she comes to know that she is free.

Mostly anyhow.

The husk of the dragon still clings to her like a thick sheet of snow. She is still tethered to it but she can no longer feel it. 

It is heavy as she drags herself out from under it. Heavy as it sloughs away like the molt of a snake. It takes some pulling and tugging and a swipe of her claws but she comes free. Dead flesh and muscle tissue hangs in strips from her legs. 

She draws them up to her chest with a shiver; the winter air is biting on her naked, pale skin. She wraps her arms around herself. Ethan tugs his coat off and drapes it over her body and all of the relief she feels crumbles along with her shead dragon skin.

“No.” She mumbles, “no, no. You promised me that I wouldn’t be…”

Ethan takes her in his arms. Her woefully small figure fits much too perfectly in his grasp. 

She gently knocks her hand against her forehead. “I don’t want to take those medications anymore, Winters.” 

He pulls her in closer and takes her by the wrist. “I don’t think that you’ll have to.” 

She snarls, “look at me, Winters!” She is always too small or too large.

“You sure like telling me to do that.” He remarks, “you’re lucky that it’s something I like doing.”

She is torn between annoyed and flattered. “I--”

“Just used your claws to free yourself.” He interrupts. 

She furrows her brows and holds her hand in front of her face, flexing it twice before extending her claws. She retracts them and feels down the length of her side until she finds the raised line of scar tissue. It had mended itself again. 

But she has to be sure. 

She extends one claw and swipes it at her middle. 

“What are you doing!?” Ethan shouts as the blood begins to pool in her lap. It leaks into her belly button, falls in droplets upon her thighs, dyes the snow a violent crimson. But the flow isn’t so steady. Familiar tingles dance around the gash as it knits itself together. She touches her fingers to it, to the blood that now has no source.

“You just hurt yourself.” Ethan is still cussing. 

She shakes her head, takes her hand, and holds it to the spot where the slash had been. “It’s fine,  Ethan.” She is fine. She sure hopes that she is. She gets to her feet and brushes snow off of the back of her legs. “I want to see my daughters.” 

She needs to warm herself first. 

.oOo.

The fly women swarm her the moment she steps away from the fire. Ethan watches them practically pounce on her. Were they anymore eager, they might have toppled the woman. 

“Mother, you’re okay!” Remarks Bela.

“Yeah, we thought that you were gonna die and that we would be left all alone with The Duke and Winters and uncle Heisenberg.” Daniela shudders. 

“I would never leave you with that wretched creature.” 

“You’re still cold, mother.” Cassandra frowns slightly. “You need blankets.”

“That would be swell dragă mea, that would be swell.” 

Bela unhooks herself from the group hug to fetch a blanket, likely one of the heavy fur ones. Daniela too pulls back and looks her mother up and down. She pats the woman on the head. “You’re so small.” 

Alcina clears her throat. “Yes. For now.” 

Ethan opens her mouth to ask her if that’s really up to her. He thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment; she looks so happy. More so than she has been in…

He looks upon her face, studies that smile, the crinkle of her eyes. He thinks that this is the happiest he has ever seen the woman. She is small again but she carries herself with a remarkable grandness. 

Perhaps more grandness than someone wearing nothing but a ratty old coat should have. 

“Why don’t we get you dressed?” He suggests. 

“I’ll get your hat!” Daniela declares, she yanks Cassandra in the direction of the stairs.

Alcina casts a look over her shoulder. “Is that really what you want, Winters?”

His face flushes red. “No! Yes! It’s...I want my coat back.” 

She quirks a brow. He supposes that he should have seen it coming, but his coat is very much back in his arms. And Lady Dimitrescu makes herself comfortable in the nearest chair, slinging one porcelain white leg over the other. 

“Why don’t you go fetch some wine, dragă mea? We have several occasions to celebrate.”

[sorry-rosie]

✧ Dealing with Trauma ✧

➼ Ethan

Often he tries to hide some of his emotional baggage from the Baker estate incident from Mia, not out of shame or distrust but because he doesn’t want her to feel more guilty than she already is that this pain was somewhat caused by her. He thinks she’s going through enough already from three years of being trapped there.

All and all he wants to put on a brave face for her so that she could try to conquer her demons while he’s being supportive and doing his best to comfort her, but nonetheless the mental scars still exist and he has to deal with them.

He feels like he never really left at times; it’s in the small things he never used to worry about like dark hallways in their house with plants’ shadowy limbs reminding him of dingy, mold infested basements. It’s hard to push down and forget the stench of rotting corpses especially. He can’t imagine how Mia lived like that for three years, much of which was in a single cell, but he tries to learn when he can.

The twelve hours he spent there at most felt like a sick dream, almost surreal. It was a lot to happen to a person in such a small amount of time, so for a while after the incident he was mostly in shock that all that even happened to begin with. He was almost scared when he woke up again, it would’ve never happened and he’d be alone.

Of course, with such a constant fight for survival in a short amount of time, it left him with that same jumpy, on alert attitude, constantly aware and paranoid of being attacked, especially following nightmares about the event. Yet his mind also easily forgets things about it on better days, at least until he hears the buzz of bugs in flight or the blaring roar of a chainsaw.

He also tries to handwave away some of his trauma as a necessary cost in order to get his wife back, much to the dismay of Mia.

While he never used to be able to shoot a gun for the life of him, he decided that they made him feel more secure in a world of bioterror, so he has multiple guns now. He also was trained to use them properly, for fears that he wouldn’t sufficiently protect Mia or himself if the time ever arose. Organizations had reason to come after the both of them with their previous mold infection and eventually the birth of Rose: a child of two mold-infected mutants was a prize to be sure for any bioterrorist.

He can be rather self-conscious about his scarring, though Mia takes to kissing the one on his wrist quite frequently. His face grows hot every time she does it and she knows. They’re both rather gentle with consoling the other.

He’s taken to pacing the house and flexing his fingers when he’s anxious or deep in thought about something, though he’s truly terrified when he clenches his jaw, especially grinding his teeth in his sleep.

Overall although he’s a changed person (really they both are), he is quite optimistic that they’ll heal with time and find peace. If not them, then who could? They’ve already been through the wringer together but throughout it all they find themselves safe in the other’s arms. It was unrealistic to think they’d ever completely forget--it was an experience engrained in the both of them--but he hoped that they would feel safe enough to be able to have kids one day.

➼ Mia

There are still a lot of days where she can’t talk at length about the things that happened to her at the Baker mansion because they’re just too difficult to even be put into words. But she does try to open up when she can in the hopes that Ethan would as well, plus she promised to be more open and honest. She’s thankful Ethan isn’t pushy about it when she doesn’t want to, however.

For a long while after getting back home, she had a hard time maintaining a healthy weight because she’d often be repulsed by food for various reasons: she’d go days starving at the Baker house, so too much food at once nauseated her, and meat (especially beef) reminded her too much of the times she’d cannibalize the people the Bakers would capture and leave in the guest house. Couple those with the guilt she felt, then it was fighting an uphill battle just to eat again.

Her mind often drifts off to darker places, especially of her wielding weapons against her husband or killing people in her infected, rampaging state. But the worst of them all is the unspeakable things she did while she was free from Eveline’s control, the things she couldn’t blame on her, the times she worked for the Connections.

Sometimes her worst, sweatiest, waking-up-screaming nightmares are not of the Baker estate at all, but the gnawing anxiety of having so much responsibility put on her to take down Eveline and her failure to do so, costing many people their lives. Even worse are the amalgamation of nightmares of her fights with Ethan before she left for her job, him dying or him leaving her, then her living out the rest of her life at the Baker estate in that cell, being poked and prodded by Lucas or Jack.

It’s hard not to blame herself, especially waking up from nightmares like those. She usually is more open talking about her guilt with Ethan, though he often reassures her that she doesn’t need to keep apologizing, that he knows. Often when she tells him about her trauma, she simply wants him to listen. So sometimes he’ll just curl up with his arms around her and run his hands through her hair and be completely quiet.

Going from living in those hellish conditions--never showering, barely eating, and being kept locked in a jailcell--to being back home in a house she found didn’t change that much felt quite disorientating at first, especially since she wasn’t aware of how much time had passed to begin with. For a while she became a hermit, staying inside the house, occasionally venturing out to their yard to take in the fresh air at most. However, it didn’t take that long for her to want to see more of the world, because she didn’t want to waste any more precious moments confined in the same room anymore. Mia never used to be claustrophobic, but she was now.

Her wedding band is often played with when she's a bit anxious. It's constant, always steadily there no matter what she's wearing or doing, so she took it up as a nervous tic. Sometimes she just sentimentally eyes it, though, which makes Ethan quite curious as to what's happening in her brain.

Her mind is quite overactive and her thoughts even more disruptive, with fears of being controlled, of losing herself entirely again just as she did with Eveline’s influences. She could never be too sure. Ethan does make it better, grounding her when she’s afloat in a sea of worries, but they of course made use of their therapy sessions. She found some success in cognitive behavioral therapy especially. It’s a constant battle, just as much things in life are, but they’d like to think they’re winning.

[codenamesazanka]

Short Spinner Fic!

Well, more like meta/headcanon turned prose. Sorta. unbeta’d, terrible grammar prob, very on the nose, but I just had to write something that dealt with what we learned about Spinner’s past. 

1,615 words. Set right after Stain got captured, with all that fun stuff about discrimination. 

-

The night Spinner saw the news report that would change his life, he had spent ten minutes lingering outside his landlord’s door, trying to work up the nerve to knock.

From his third floor apartment to her home on the first floor - that short walk took three minutes maximum, but in that time the heat and humidity of the May evening had already made his hair damp and the collar of his shirt slightly darken with moisture. By the dim glow of the streetlight, Spinner tried to use his phone’s selfie camera to see if he looked too bad, but his nervousness at appearing sloppy only added sweat to his sorry appearance. The snickering of a couple of kids that passed by him hadn’t help.

He should be fine, Spinner had muttered to himself, tried to convince himself, shoving the phone into a pocket. He was fine. She wasn’t going to even notice.

But of course she did. When his landlord opened the door, he saw her smile fade slightly at the sight of him; then the curve of her mouth disappeared completely as her eyes swept over his messy hair and landed on his hand that was discreetly trying to stop his shirt from sticking to his skin.

It was only downhill from there.

He had stammered, had tried to keep a smile on his face until he realize he was probably looking like crazy dumbass; then he had worried too much about the appropriate distance he should be keeping (His landlord was a petite woman that barely reached maybe 5 foot, and he was a 6-foot lizard man. Standing too far away would be weird, and standing too close meant, besides the obvious, that he would have to look down at her, which he thought might seem disrespectful).

When he told her about the broken AC, she had asked if he wasn’t enjoying the warm weather, and Spinner had let the silence drag on too long as he wondered what she might have meant by that. Such an innocuous question, but it made his pulse quicken. Was she making a comment that assumed he was more comfortable with heat because he looked like a lizard (answer: no, because he wasn’t cold-blooded; so no, he didn’t like the heat; and yes, he can get heatstroke, so if the AC wasn’t going to get fixed in time for the worst heat of July...)? Did that mean she wasn’t going to do anything about it, if it didn’t seem like a serious matter?

Or was he being paranoid? Insulting, even, for this unfounded accusation?

So the talk had achieved nothing, except maybe giving his landlord an even worse impression of him. He hadn’t even told her about the suspicious grey spots that was covering more and more of his ceiling with each passing day. (Monsoon season sucked.)

Back at his apartment, Spinner opened a can of beer and sat slumped against the wall, using his phone to look up ways to remove the mold himself. He clicked the first link, found himself immediately redirected to a product page that flashed it’s 5500 yen deal at him, and promptly gave up.

That was when he opened his Tweetr feed for some mindless scrolling and saw the internet aflame with news about an attack on Hosu.

-

All day at work, Spinner kept checking for updates on the Hero Killer Stain, so much that his boss threaten to break his phone and fire him. But even that couldn’t clear the cloud of obsession that had developed inside his head.

At first it was simply fun to watch and rewatch the video of him rescuing a kid, how cool it was to see the man escape from the ropes that bound him, zoomed past the Heroes, leapt into the air to take down the winged beast with a single stab to the brain. Those blades and that red scarf, snaking through the air behind him. All in a matter of seconds, and all that not being his quirk. Pure normal human ability.

From there, it was reading the articles that kept coming out - that happened in Hosu, who Stain was, what he had done.

What he believed in.

There was once when Spinner wanted to be a Hero. What kid hadn’t? He dreamed of it. Being able to wear an awesome costume, beating up bad guys and bullies and saving people, getting to be on TV and making lots of money. Heroes were amazing and they could do anything. Heroes had all sorts of different quirks, the only thing that matter being how well they could use their ability. Heroes could be anyone - even mutants like him.

And as dreams do, that faded when he grew up and woke up to real life.

Watching the viral video that someone had made of the Hero Killer, though, Spinner realized Stain kept his dream. Forced it into reality, undaunted by hard work or danger or the law. He saw something wrong with the world and decided to change it. Just like that. It was badass. It was admirable.

It was Heroic.

So how ironic and slightly disappointing it was, that Stain was now called a Villain, that it turned out he was working with that group that attacked those UA kids a few months back. Spinner found the grainy zoomed-in clip of the two guys standing on top of a water tower, watching the chaos in the city below. He found all he could about the UA incident and the man the news named as Shigaraki Tomura.

He was part of this group that Stain joined, and Spinner wondered if maybe, like Stain, he wasn’t just a Villain. Like Stain, he was out to change the world.

-

In the origin story of Spinner, Villain, would be the cup of tea that made a crucial decision for him.

His landlord’s apartment was ten times the size of his tiny one-room apartment, and Spinner felt almost agoraphobic sitting in her living room. This was a proper home, well cared for, housing a family. The last time Spinner had even spoken to a blood relative of his was years ago. He was intruding.

But the landlord had done a surprise inspection while he was at work, and she was concerned about the mold on his ceiling. In his zeal over Stain, Spinner had completely forgotten about dealing with that. Now he got to do a redux of the talk from a few days ago, and he had a feeling this might go even worse.

He never would find out if that was true, nor would he find out what would have been done about the mold. A few words into the small talk that preceded the actual conversation, his landlord’s young son had tried to be helpful and brought tea for both his mom and Spinner. Kid was probably only in elementary school, but so polite. Too much so.

Spinner watched as his landlord shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes flickering back and forth from the cup of tea set in front of Spinner, and Spinner himself.

It felt unbearably hot and suffocating in the room.

(Once, a cousin told Spinner that regardless of how much DNA would prove they were human, they weren’t. Not really, not in practice, not to the people they live among. They looked like lizards, so they’d be treated like lizards. Like animals, and you wouldn’t feed your pet using a bowl you would use, right? It’ll be dirty, no matter how much you washed it. That’s why there’s food bowls specifically for your dog, cat, whatever.)

It was much too late to for her to take back the drink without seeming astonishingly rude. Maybe Spinner should help her save face and decline the tea, have the kid take it away. Maybe he can use this as leverage for the mold problem. Maybe--

--he shouldn’t have to put up with this. There were people out there right now, ready to face down Heroes and police and society, ready to create change, ready to take their lives and fate into their hands and shape it to their liking. Stain hadn’t allow himself to be trampled down.

Spinner shouldn’t either.

That was when he stood up and left without a word.

-

The leader was different than what Spinner expected.

In the small private bar that the broker had taken him to, Shigaraki Tomura sat on one of the stools, young and bone-thin, dressed so plainly in simple black shirt and pants. Not quite the criminal mastermind Spinner imagined. Yet all attention in the room was held by him, and he wielded that authority with ease.

“Shuichi Iguchi… Spinner.” Shigaraki spoke and Spinner anticipated each word. “Our fight is for all the right reasons, but the world is going to hate us for it. Condemn us. Try to destroy us. We’ll have to return in kind. We’ll have get our hands dirty, we’ll have to sacrifice a lot.”

Shigaraki shifted his head, and suddenly all Spinner could focus on was that one red eye looking through the fingers of the severed hand on his face, filled with all the same rage and desire and intensity that Stain had. Its gaze pierce through Spinner, making him wince as though he was physically cut.  

Hatred was nothing new to him, though, and he had nothing else in this world than this newfound will. He’d do anything, all for Stain. All for his new comrades. All this, Spinner said out loud.

Shigaraki grinned at him, a smile so wide and vicious and-- happy, that Spinner felt his own face mirror that excitement.

“Welcome to the League of Villains.”

-

So my Spinner goes from a nervous mild-mannered guy trying to live a life, to a terrorist ready to murder kids in like three short days. I should figure out his characterization better next time lol

[writing-freak]

Useless pt. 3

Pt. 1    Pt. 2

Hank McCoy (Beast) x Reader

A/N: Final chapter!! Hope you guys liked them! More x-men to come!!!

Word Count: 1,785

Masterlist

You were incredibly grateful that the younger mutants were in class, and that your older friends were engaged in a practice mission in the training room. The hallways were completely empty, and you made it back to your room without anyone seeing your sobbing mess. You collapsed onto the floor, resting your head against the closed door behind you.

You had come to accept your mutation. You had even come to love it. You loved the way it made Hank’s eyes light up, its potential to help your friends. For once in your life you felt truly gifted, like Charles had said you were before bringing you to his school.

But you had made Hank feel something he didn’t feel. You made him kiss you, you made him feel an attraction to you he didn’t feel. Your mutation, it hurt your best friend, destroyed any trust he had in you and ruined the friendship you shared. It was horrible, disgusting even, and you hated it, more than you’d ever hated anything in your life.

Tears streamed down your face as you felt someone approach the door behind you. Feeling someone presence before being able to touch them was something Charles had taught you soon after you’d come to the school, and you knew who it was even before you felt his knock just an inch above where your head rested.

“Y/N?” Charles asked softly, and as you willed him to go away, he decided to take a different approach. Y/N? you heard echoing inside your head. It was Charles’ voice, but that didn’t make it any less unsettling. I would like to talk to you.

You reluctantly rose to your feet, and opened the door so that he could wheel himself in. As he turned the light in the room on, you were forced to meet Charles’ eyes.

“Look, my role here is not to meddle with the lives of you mutants,” Charles said finally, as if you were a small child. You rolled your eyes. “Listen, please, what I’m trying to say is that my role is to help you to embrace and learn to control your mutation. And your mutation, it’s an amazing thing.”

“But it’s horrible,” you argued. “It damages everything and does more harm than good.”

Charles laughed. “You think mind control doesn’t have its problems? Y/N, you are still learning to control it, and that’s okay. It’s more than okay, it’s what’s expected. But you need to learn right now that there’s no distinction between you and your mutation. You need to accept it as who you are, and you are good.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Charles said, sounding like a frustrated mother. “You are not trying to harm someone with your powers, you made a mistake and that is okay. It’s expected.”

“Thanks Charles,” you said, unsure of how you felt about the matter. You still felt incredibly guilty, and the idea of having to face Hank again made your stomach churn. But you knew Charles meant well, and you knew he was right, that despite everything, you were still good.

—

It had been a week since the incident, and you were avoiding Hank.

Technically, you were just making yourself busy, which is what you told Jean, but I’m all honesty, making yourself busy meant running out of the room every time you saw anyone in a lab coat enter.

You knew he was working in the lab (you’d checked on your way over), and that was the only reason why you were in the library, catching up on some homework in your favorite chair by the window. Jean and Scott had insisted on making your shared bedroom their make-out space, and while you usually supported the two younger mutants’ relationship, it had made you feel a little sick.

And so you were just opening your books when you heard a loud crash from around the corner. You rushed to help whoever it was, and was shocked to find the person you’d been avoiding for so long in the exact same position he’d been in just a month or so before.

“Really, Hank?” You asked, and despite your fear for the coming conversation, you felt your eyebrows raise. “Again?”

Hank froze, his eyes wide as he realized you were really speaking to him. “Y/N...I…”

The smile that had begun to grow on your face faded, and you looked down at the pile of empathy books surrounding him. “Need some help?”

“Yes,” Hank said finally. You helped him gather the books and return them to the shelves.

“I guess you won’t be needing these anymore, huh?” You said, trying to hide your disappointment.

“Yeah, I guess not,” Hank said. “I’m nearly finished with your gun, just need to test some stuff out, really, so I won’t be needing any of these anymore.”

“You’re still working on your invention?” You asked, shocked. Hank looked confused.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

You looked away. “I just figured...you know...after what happened…”

Hank grew very red, his pale cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I’m nearly finished. Would you…” he took a deep breath and looked at you with hopeful eyes. “Would you like to see it?”

You felt something settle in your chest, and the smile you gave him felt genuine. “I’d love to.”

Hank had been lying when he said your gun was nearly finished. The sleek silver and yellow gun was fully completed when you entered the lab, a dozen or so walnut-sized discs surrounding it on Hank’s table.

“I just need you to try it out,” Hank said, placing the gun in your hand. It fit perfectly, and now you understood why he had made a mold the shape of your hand weeks before.

Hank showed you how to load the discs into the gun, and then walked about ten feet away.

“You want me to test it on you?” You asked, shaking your head definitively. He rolled his eyes.

“They won’t hurt.” When you still looked reluctant, he added, “I promise.”

You still felt hesitant as you raised the weapon to point it at Hank across the room.

“You need to act like you’re manipulating my emotions before you fire the gun. You’re essentially using your mutation on the gun, which then in turn uses it on me.” You nodded, focusing the gun on Hank’s right shoulder.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you pulled the trigger, telling the gun to relax, to sleep, as it fired a disc at your best friend.

The disc hit exactly where you had been aiming, and Hank dropped to the floor, fast asleep.

You couldn’t control the feeling of excitement that overwhelmed you. It had worked! To test the weapon once more, you channeled the opposite energy, and hit Hank once more. It mere seconds, he was picking himself off of the floor, and huge grin on his face.

“It worked,” he said, his blue eyes lighting up. “It actually worked.”

You could tell he was still working on processing it, but you had already begun understanding what this meant. “It worked!” You yelled, jumping up and down. You ran to Hank, and threw your arms around him, squeezing him in a hug so tight you were sure he was unable to breathe. “Thank you,” you breathed in his ear. “Thank you so much.”

And then, pulling away, you did something that surprised even yourself. Unable to control it, you leaned forward to kiss him. It was short, shorter even than the last time, and you put about a foot of space between the two of you before even looking at him again.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry I did that, especially after what happened last time.” You were about to walk away, the previous excitement you’d felt beginning to diminish as quickly as it came. But Hank looked confused.

“What happened last time?” he repeated. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” you said. “You didn’t mean to, I know.”

“No! I mean, yes, I mean-”

“I’m so sorry I made you do that. I’m so sorry-”

“Made me do what? Kiss you?” Hank’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You thought you made me kiss you?”

You frowned. “Well, yeah.”

Hank flushed an even darker red than before. “I definitely kissed you on my own.”

“But you said-“

“I didn’t mean to kiss you without talking to you first. I didn’t mean to kiss you out of the blue like that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or ruin our friendship, or make you avoid me for a week.” You looked at the floor, feeling guilty all over again. “I wanted to kiss you.”

You looked up at him then, and felt a small smile return to your face. Feeling particularly brave, you took a step forward to place a hand on his red cheek. You knew a million thank you’s could never express just how grateful you were to him, for taking the time to help you, for being a part of your life, for making you accept yourself, but you decided to try anyway. As you stood on your tiptoes to meet his height, you felt a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if they were your own or Hank’s. They intensified as you brought your lips to meet his.

Though you had done it before, kissing Hank this time felt different, and you felt pure joy for the first time in over a week as you rested your forehead on his, letting out a sigh of content. Hank’s glasses were fogged up, which made you giggle lightly, but you could still see his eyes lit up behind them, making your chest swell with happiness.

“I lied to you before,” Hank said suddenly, snapping you back to reality and causing your eyebrow to raise in question. “Those discs do hurt. Do you mind helping me pull them out?”

You jumped back in surprise, at least as far as Hank would let you with his arm hooked around your back. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Hank, I’m so sorry! Let me help you!” It must have been the expression on your face, because Hank let out a laugh, his pearly whites shining as he looked down at you. The laugh was cut short when you pulled the two discs out of where they were embedded in Hank’s shoulder, and he winced. “Sorry,” you repeated, wincing yourself. He shook his head.

Looking down at the discs in your hand, you felt the burst of excitement all over again. “It worked.” Hank grinned.

“It really did.”

[forever-more-never-again]

Burning (Scene 3/?)

*I do not own the Avengers or MCU**GIF not mine*

Hey guys! it’s Rose again! I’m so excited for the response I’m getting for this multi part fic. As you can tell, each chapter will be alternating between the reader’s and Natasha’s POV.

Natasha Romanoff X (Enhanced!Mutant!) Reader

Word Count ~ 1K

Warnings: none?

Prologue / Scene One / Scene Two

*Natasha’s POV*

“ And no one knows where she disappeared to?” Natasha asked, frustrated, once again, when the street cameras didn’t pick up the strange winged woman who had helped during the battle just a few weeks ago.

Steve sighed, looking askew at Natasha, “No. The ones that were not destroyed couldn’t pick her up. Tony even tried to track her movements, but there’s no clue about where she might be or where she might have gone.”

Natasha knew she was being a little obsessive, but when she had seen the woman and when she had fought next to her, Natasha had felt something. And she wanted to know what it was. To do that, she needed the woman.

“I can’t believe you didn’t press her for a name.” She monotoned to Steve. Steve and her were sitting in the conference room in Stark towers, now renamed the Avengers Tower.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, not only with himself but with Natasha. “Yes, I know. But we can’t force her to join us. We can’t force anyone. She knows we’re here, she knows she has a place, she’ll come if she wants to...when she wants to.” Steve stood up walking around the table. He stopped next to Natasha, sighing, he rested a hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know what your obsession with her is, but you need to let it go before it consumes you.”

With that he left the conference room. Natasha stayed seated, staring at the security footage from the battle that was projected on the screen in the room. She couldn’t figure out how the woman managed to evade her. She was a skilled assassin. She should’ve been able to track her down the following day after the battle when the team realized she was gone.

Natasha rested her head in her hands. Closing her eyes, she relieved the moment she first saw the woman.

Running over, Wings flowing behind her, flames shooting out of her hands as she handed the Chitauri it’s ass. The woman’s [h/c] hair flying past her face. The moment that Natasha saw those [E/C] eyes flashing with determination and pride at being able to help.

Natasha groaned and stood up from the table.

“Excuse me miss Romanoff, but I have a disturbance that requires the insight of the Avengers, please stay here while I contact the others.”

Natasha cocked her head to the side at Jarvis’s outburst, but stayed put. Things had been relatively calm since Thor had taken Loki away for attempting to take over Earth. Natasha wondered what had happened to cause Jarvis’s sensors to go off.

Slowly the team trickled in. Steve had a look of weary resignation on his face at the thought of another mission. Clint already had his bow with him, ready. Banner was his usual quiet self as he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible sitting in a corner. Finally Tony arrived, and as usual was his cocky, arrogant self.

“Alright Jarvis, mind telling us what’s up?”

The AI replied to Tony, “Last night, reports from a scientific study group based in Siberia to track the ranges of weather and magnetic waves came in, it appears they got some off the charts readings of heat waves. When they followed the heat, they found an entire section of the forest burned, snow completely melted. They sent in a call to the police, and since then there has been another incident. But this time, there was a building that was burned down. There have been no discoverable tracks of anyone coming or going from the scenes.” The AI showed pictures that had been taken by the scientist of the scene. Trees showed scorch marks. Patches of grass appeared to be smoldered. And around the heat source there still stood three feet of untouched snow.

Natasha sat straight up in her chair at the mention of heat and burned forests. Could this be the work of the woman?

Tony apparently had the same train of thought as he spoke up, “Wow, she moves fast. New York to Siberia. Big jump.”

Steve spoke up using his Captain voice to get everyone’s attention, “We should check out that building, make sure no civilians were hurt. If this is that woman from New York, it’s time we got an actual name and find out what she wants.”He looked at Natasha when he added, “If she proves to be a threat we are going to have to take her down.” He stood up, “Suit up, were heading to Siberia.”

In no time at all, the team was aboard the quinjet. Natasha was surprised that she was actually nervous for the mission. Clint seemed to sense this as he walked to sit next to her near the bay doors.

“What’s got you bothered?”

Natasha shook her head, “I’m being silly. It’s just.” Clint took her hand as Natasha realized she was subconsciously clenching it, “The woman from New York.” Clint nodded, “I saw her and I felt something. Something I thought got taken from me during my time in the Red Room.”

“Hey, if this is the work of that woman, we’ll find her, okay? And you’re so much more than what the Red Room tried to mold you into. I just want to remind you of that.” Clint gave her hand a squeeze and smiled at her before going back to discuss plans with Tony.

Natasha went over Clint’s words in her head again and again until they reached Siberia.

Steve stood up as they brought the jet to the ground, “Alright Avengers, let’s go check it out.”