#The Survivors have favorite skins they wear and they have to say Thank you Miss Charlie every time they get them/j

[anyoldfandom]

Getting into DST again once again humbly submitting the idea that while most of the skins are AUs all of them all the AU looking outfits are Charlie playing dressup with the Survivors like in the Gorge animation.

[mikanotes]

I don’t know if your taking requests, but if you do I’d like to request Nam-ra x reader, that girl is stuck on my mind 🥺

— fire in the snow

nam-ra x gn!reader | 1.1k words

genre: fluff, comfort

warnings: swearing, smoking, cigarettes, kissing, mutual-pining.

synopsis: walking through the ruins of what used to be your school, you reminisce about the time you spent there with your favorite person in this damned world. and she keeps her promise to come back to see you again.

author's note: i love her so much :[ cries. every time i think of her in the last ep when she comes on the rooftop she looks so . warm and comfy with the sweater she was wearing i wanna hug her. thank you for requesting!!! <3 namra lovers unite

“Namra.” you said. She blinked furiously, turning around as if she wasn’t aware of where she was. She gulped and readjusted in her seat, seemingly uncomfortable. You frowned and turned to her. You were both sitting at the edge of the window, with Suhyeok leaning on the wall next to it. Their wrists were tied together, and you held her free hand. She pulled it away and slid further away from you. “Is something wrong?”

She breathed heavily. “I thought… Bite…”

You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned in closer. “What did you say?”

She sighed and looked away, before coming closer. “I thought I was gonna bite you.”

So that was why she’d suddenly started fidgeting around. You sighed and wrapped your arms around her. She didn’t move, but didn’t pull away. “Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t.”

You pulled away enough and put your arm between the two of you. You pulled your sleeve up and exposed your skin to her, raising your eyebrows. “Do you want to bite me? Try it.”

She instinctively put both her hands on your arm to push it down and away from her view. She gulped.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You smiled, moving back to your previous position and leaning against the window.

“I trust you.” you said quietly, “So please have more faith in yourself.”

Three months. You were glad Suhyeok couldn’t keep his mouth shut and that neither could the rest of your friends, or you would’ve despised Onjo for not telling you. Tonight, you were all heading to the rooftop of your former school. Onjo had seen a fire from faraway, and upon closer look, you could all tell she’d seen right.

Walking in the corridors of the school felt odd. Everything was destroyed, ashes covering every single room. You walked past your old classroom. The faint sound of your voice and hers talking during break time could almost be heard.

“Namra, I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet! Pleaseeee, help me with my homework. Pretty please?” you said. She looked up at you blankly, before turning back to her books and you flopped down on her desk. She passed you a notebook, opened at the page of the notes she'd taken on the class your homework was on. You stood back up and smiled gleefully, pumping a fist into the air. "Thank you, prez'!"

You sighed, kicking the dust with your feet as you walked. The staircase was surprisingly still in good enough shape to be used. It almost looked like the way it used to.

“Are you following?”

“Yes, class prez’, I am following.” you sighed as you walked up the stairs. She turned around with a slight smile and you raised your eyebrows.

“We’re going to the rooftop.”

The school used to be a nice place. It had its comforting aspects, and people you liked. Some more than others. Now everything and everyone but your group of… Zombie-apocalypse-survivors friends were gone. You missed the way things used to be.

When the doors of the rooftop opened, the wind hit your face coldly. You shivered. This place held many memories.

“You smoke?” you scoffed, grinning, “No way.”

As Namra lit up her cigarette and put it between her lips, you tilted your head. She turned to you with a questioning look, to which you responded to with a smile and chuckle.

“Didn’t think the class prez’ smoked.” you said honestly, sitting on the edge of the roof. Namra grabbed your wrist without saying a word and kept her gaze on the horizon. She gently pulled you so you’d move to her left instead of her right, and turned her head away in the opposite direction to blow out the smoke.

“Neither does everyone.” she said quietly, “This is just because exams are coming up. I’m stressed.”

You brought your hand up to her shoulder and massaged it comfortingly. “You’ll ace them. I believe in you.”

She turned to you with the same blank look she always had, but smiled softly. “Thanks.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the campfire on the roof, in the midst of the falling snow. Everyone hurried over but your steps slowed. Someone was there. You could feel it. There was someone else on this rooftop besides your group.

“You know, Namra.” you sighed, holding her hand and swaying it back and forth, “Zombie or not, I like you a lot.”

She looked down at your intertwined hands.

“I like you too.” she said.

“Then can you… Promise me you’ll come back?”

Her eyes widened and she looked up. “How’d you–”

“It’s obvious you’d want to leave for the safety of our group.” you sighed, and smoke formed in front of your mouth from the cold, “I know I can’t keep you from leaving. But can you promise me you’ll at least come back?”

She looked at you without moving, before averting her gaze and gulping. She sighed, and you felt her fingers tighten around your hand. “I will. I’ll come back.”

Your thumb caressed her hand and you managed a smile. “Thank you.”

The group were conversing on wether this was Namra’s doing or not, but you were frozen. And suddenly, someone was wrapping their arms around your unmoving figure. “Namra.”

She put her face in the crook of your neck and chuckled. Something you’d only heard two or three times before. Your hand came up to touch the side of her head, and then you turned around. “Namra.” you repeated, voice breaking this time. She had a small smile on her lips.

“Did you think I wouldn’t keep my promise?”

You shook your head, trying to keep back the tears that threatened to spill onto your cheeks from doing so. They’d freeze the moment they’d come in contact with the freezing cold around you, anyway. You took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.

“No. Can I kiss you?”

But she did first. It was warm, unlike the temperature around you. And it was like the sound of your friends finally noticing her presence and yelling behind you was muted– muffled, even. You closed your eyes and held her face, fingers trembling. You didn’t know if it was from the cold, or the urge to cry, or the kiss, or everything at the same time. But she kept her lips on yours, and it was warm. And it was so comforting, so soft. She pulled away and looked at you with another smile, before grabbing your hand and walking past you to greet your friends.

You waited to turn around because your face was heating up, now, and you couldn’t help the giddy smile on your lips. You used to hope she’d kiss you, before, when everything was still okay. And now, you were only hoping to even see her again. To know she was alive. But she’d given you more than what you’d dared to hope for.

Namra was undoubtedly the best person you’d ever met in your entire life.

You snuck a pack of cigarettes in her skirt’s pocket as you turned around and held back a smile. She tightened her hold on your hand and you knew that was her way of thanking you.

[red-doll-face]

That last one about Michael was perfect!! I loved the new idea of the reader stumbling into the killer campground! Could I request an expanded idea on that scenario, but more so just a reader interacting with Anna, Michael, Danny, Evan, etc.? If that makes sense

I had to say, this was fun to write but I suck at characterization, I made everyone a little too nice but what else do we need in these trying times? I wasn’t sure if you meant like altogether, I might save something like that for a special event so I made little drabbles for each one I hope you like them!! Thanks @prophxtslash for the food fight idea 😂🥣

Warnings: nothing really bad. Just some food fights and palling around with the killers. 

Dead by Daylight Killers x gn Reader

Anna ‘The Huntress’

In the rare instances that survivors came across killers, sometimes, the killers couldn't break old habits. Mostly, the killers like The clown or even Freddy liked to bully survivors, only doing what felt natural, they claimed. But Doctor or Dr. Carter took a liking to tormenting survivors in and out of trials. Though, what he did could be classified as annoying rather than life-threatening, thus staying within the entity’s rule of being unable to harm survivors outside of the trial.

“Stop it!” You slapped at the man’s hand, touching along your arm and sending tingles that made it feel like your arm fell asleep. The little slap caused more pain than anything, accidentally brushing one of the live wires embedded in his skin. He giggles and grins around the mouthpiece that gaped his lips showing bloodied teeth. You were surprised he didn't drool all over everything.

“Leave me alone.” You whined, trying to walk away from him. You only came to see the Huntress, as she requested you make her a doll after seeing your interest in her mother's old craft supplies when you were in a trial against her. You observed the little balls of yarn and the needles tucked against a cabinet as she came in toting her ax. You turned, as she tilted her head at your curiosity. Afterward, she approached you with the items, handing them to you. Watching with glee as you began to weave the old fading yarn together.

Now, the Doctor, seeing the little doll in your hands, tried to take it from you. Unfortunately, for you, there was no else at the campfire today besides The Doctor who was here to see Evan who was not here, much like Anna. As the fog cleared up ahead, revealing the person you were waiting for, Dr. Carter took advantage of your distraction. He made for the doll sitting in your palms. A hatchet whizzed by and nearly clipped him, causing him to look up at her. She pushed him back with her mere presence, The Doctor unhappily leaving you alone, disappearing into the trees. She turned to you and you handed her her gift. Her lips pulled into a smile, squeezing at your hand and the present alike.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers

The only reason you liked him, he rationalized, was because you liked everyone. Perhaps, not everyone, but you could tolerate killers. When they acted decent enough. You liked the killers enough to come to visit him at this campsite, to catch anytime he lingered around with the rest of the killers. He didn’t like them but he couldn’t chance any of the killers becoming fascinated with you as he had. He sat rigidly on the log, breathing evenly, facing the fire. If you didn’t come, he’d recede into the fog again more than eager to leave the rest of the killers behind.

Like he had invoked you himself, you drifted in from the darkness, eyes settling on him. You shared a strange intrigue with each other, content to sit in silence with one another. You knew others thought it creepy or weird but no one had the courage to say it to Michael's face.

He should have known your friendliness exceeded just him. The man wearing the face of someone else approached you and you recognized him, letting him hold your hands and shake you around in something resembling a dance. You laughed and tried to calm him down, lest Michael become angered. He tilted his head as other killers gravitated around you, watching as you become uncomfortable around the burnt small one. He came close, unnoticed, listening as he uttered vulgar words to frighten you. You looked more uncomfortable than afraid.

The cannibal tugged you away from the pest in the sweater. Michael, having had enough of seeing you get tugged around like a coveted toy, shoved the burnt one out of his way, pulling you from the grip of the man with the yellow apron. You wrapped your arms around him, finding comfort in the midnight blue of his coveralls and the smell of autumn that clung to him. Michael took the key to his house from his pocket and threw it in the campfire, burning in the cold flames. The mist swallowed you both. He’d have you to himself. Michael was never the type to share.

Danny ‘The Ghostface’ Johnson

“Eat it!” You shoved a spoon at Danny, maskless today so you could try the fabled survivor pudding. You heard it was salty and gross. You didn’t really know who exactly made it and what it was for. Well, there was only one way to find out. Make Danny eat it. He refused, obviously. Keeping his mouth closed would not deter you.

“No way! Get that shit out of here.” He pushed it out of your hands and you choked on your own laughter watching half spill out of the bowl. You put some on the spoon and bent the weak plastic thing back. It sailed in the air only to splatter all over Danny’s face. He closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows as you covered your mouth in shock.

“I meant to miss that, I swear.” You tried to stop the laughter from coming out but it wasn't working. Your snickers turned into full-blown bellyaching guffaws as it dripped down his face. He spit out whatever made it into his mouth. He gagged and you shook and cried at his expression. He glared and threw some at you, watching as it oozed down the side of your cheek. You gasped and it was his turn to laugh in your face.

“So, you can dish it but you can’t handle a little pudding?” He mocked, taking a finger and scraping some off your cheek. He motioned to put it in your mouth and you slapped his hand away. You wiped it off and caught him by the sleeve, forcing him to stay still. You smeared it across his forehead, his hands trying to grab your wrists. He dumped some onto your lap and in retaliation you dumped the rest over his head, trickling onto the black leather of his Ghostface outfit.

“Oh my fucking god.” You said, your head hurting from the sheer hysterics you were in. Tears leaked from your eyes as the yellowish paste seeped into his hair. He got up and tried to catch you, slipping out of his arms and into the trees, giggling as the paste shook out of his hair.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan

A man his age and size shouldn’t be doing this. He could almost hear his father’s condescending voice. It was a feminine pursuit, at best for emasculated men who were afraid of work. But here, no one cared what the methodical Trapper did in his spare time. Especially not the entity who only concerned itself with his ability to sacrifice the survivors. In his offtime, he liked to draw on the thin, brittle paper that was left on the estate and charcoal. He’d smudge lines this way and that until it looked at least a little like what was in his head. And if it didn't then he'd try again.

Currently, his favorite muse was sat on a rock, whispering to the Pig. Friends it seemed, talking quietly between themselves. You tilted your head and cracked a smile as she made a motion with her hand. He tried his best to capture the gleam of the fire in your eyes. The slope of your neck. The position of your legs. He went back to his drawing, unaware of Amanda's words in your ear.

“Yup. Look at him. He’s staring at you.” You smiled and leaned to hear her words, “Evan’s had his eye on you for what has it been? Is time a thing anymore?” You looked at him, his huge form hunched over a flat surface, fingers tinged black. “I think he’s drawing you. Let’s go see.” She hopped off the rock, dropping into a crouch. She motioned for you to follow and you both crept, following her lead. Amanda's specialty being her ambush, she was much quieter. When you both arrived unnoticed behind him, she pointed down at his drawing and nodded excitedly. It was you. Sitting on the rock you and Amanda were conversing on.

“Hey, that’s really good!” You said without thinking and Amanda facepalmed as you observed the drawing. The thin charcoal in Evans' hand snapped in two at the disruption. He turned slowly to see your warm face, eyes wide with admiration for his talent. He wished he had drawn that expression instead.

“Thanks.”

Sorry if u can’t actually crotchet or knit. If it makes u feel better, I can’t either. Thanks for reading and I hope u enjoyed it! 😳

[shnuggletea]

InuKagWeek 2020

Alright, to those of you still here, thank you! To those of you who left... eh, it's your choice. Anyway, here is chapter two day two of InuKagweek 2020! Loyalty. @inukag-week thanks for the poster art and here’s my day two! Still working on my own art for this piece. Something I was working on a while ago and quit. Hence why Kagome looks way better if you ask me. Thank you @petri808​ for showing me a few tricks for my posts on tumblr!

Chapter 2 of 8 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Fanfiction link HERE

AO3 link HERE

Or if you’d rather, just reading reading!

Loyalty

If I'm being honest, I never had a job in food service. But I had to assume they were all the same mostly. Things like learning the names of the drinks and the regular customers as well as how to handle a tray filled with heavy things were to be expected. However, given my place of 'work', getting grabbed, touched, and pinched wasn't. Two weeks later and I was as used to it as you could be. When you go from living in a girls home, sharing a room, and counseling sweet innocent children to your own space in a mansion and bringing drinks backstage to the dancers, it would never feel normal.

The girls were nice enough though and I never saw Inuyasha which I was fine with. Mostly.

I'd even made friends with most of those that worked there. Some were just there to strip and make money so a little inexperienced waitress wasn't worth their time. Which was fine. But my favorite was a girl named Sango.

Her eyes brightened at the sight of me, a smile on her pretty face as she paused in putting on her fake lashes. I handed off the other drinks, giving Sango her whiskey sour last. "Oh, I do love the nights you're working Kagome."

"Which is every night?"

Sango giggled, taking a sip and moaning her appreciation of the flavor. "Yes. But you are so quick with our orders. The others take forever."

"I just don't want you guys going without some liquid courage. I couldn't do what you guys do."

Sango tisked her tongue at me as I leaned against her vanity table. "It's not that bad. I mean, the audition was a little awkward."

"Audition?"

Sango went back to her makeup, lining her lips with a dark red lipstick. "Yeah. Having to get naked in from of the boss? That was nerve-wracking, wasn't it? Naomi told me she had to do the same thing even as a server. You had to too right?"

I shuttered. So everyone had to do that? Inuyasha had slept with every single girl in this place as an audition? Was that what that was? I lost my virginity to a man like that?

I swallowed my disgust and the rising vomit in my throat, suddenly feeling a desperate need to get checked for STDs because he definitely didn't wear a condom with me, and pushed off the table. "I should get back to it."

"Yep yep. Don't want the boss to catch you slacking!"

As if he could, he was never here. Too busy 'auditioning' more girls. The only one here every day, giving me a hard time, was Koga. He was always somewhere around the club, waiting to bark at me for doing something wrong or touch me. It was never in an inappropriate place but it was still unwanted. A hand on my shoulder or a push to my back. Once, he patted my butt and I nearly tore his arm off. He hasn't done it since but I see him do it to the others all the time.

Returning to one of my tables, I leaned in to be heard over the loud music. The girl on stage now was talented for sure so I was always surprised when anyone gave me their attention over those on stage. Probably thanks to the required low cut top I had to wear. It wasn't even a top really, it was a vest and I barely fit in it. There definitely wasn't room for a bra. And the pants sat low on my hips so my skin showed all the time. Every time I leaned over, I waited for a breast to fall out. Not that anyone would mind, save for me.

Plastering a smile on my face, I listened as the guy I was attending rattled off a drink order as slowly as he could to keep me there longer. It was a struggle to keep my fake smile up. He finally finished, certain he was touching himself under the table the whole time, I fled to the bar. Far from safe, it still had fewer men ogling me at it.

I rested, waiting for my order and Naomi stood next to me. "Hey, Kagome? I'm not really sure I should say something but...there's a guy here who keeps sitting in my section and watching you."

I suppose stalkers were a normal thing here. It didn't mean I was okay with it. "He's watching me? With that going on?"

I thumbed towards the stage as Sango did a super sexy split on the pole. Not sure what I'd do with myself if I was ever that sexy but it was nice to dream. "Well...I've only been here a few days but yeah. I wasn't going to tell you until I was sure. I mean he's far less creepy than the other guy that watches you…"

"There are two guys watching me?!"

She grabbed my shoulders to reassure me. "I'm not really sure! I haven't even been here a week yet. But it seems like this guy is definitely here to watch you. He sits in the corner booth in the back so he can see you but you never seem to see him…" I gently pulled from her hold and made the quick decision to face the creep. "Wait, Kagome!"

I waved back to her, heading off towards the mentioned table. "Don't worry, I won't get you in trouble."

I didn't have to go all the way to the table, figuring out pretty quickly who it was. Shaking my head and growling a laugh in irritation, I walked right up to Inuyasha who looked a little taken aback that I seemed to notice him. Crossing my arms over my chest served two purposes; hiding my overexposed breasts and showing him how pissed I was at him in general. How the hell did Naomi not know who this was? She auditioned for him last week!

Setting his drink down carefully, he cleared his throat over the loud music and adjusted his seat. "I just wanted to check on you, that's all. See how my investment was holding up."

That wasn't good enough for me and I told him as much by not changing or saying a thing.

"This is my club, damnit, I can come in and do whatever the fuck I want."

"Yes you can, Boss," Koga said, coming up from behind out of nowhere. "Everything up to your standards?"

There was something about Koga. He said one thing but clearly felt another. Inuyasha had to be ignoring it, no way he missed the indignation in Koga's demeanor. "Everything is fine, Koga. Except for your customers getting too handsy with the wait staff!"

To my added irrigation, Koga put his hands on my shoulders as if to hold me steady. Never did I ever need another to keep me steady or still and now wasn't the exception. I glared over my shoulder at him but he ignored me. But then his hands popped off me as if burned and I turned back to Inuyasha who looked ready to kill someone. And that someone was Koga so he stepped further away from me.

"I'll..uh...I'll see what I can do about that, Sir."

Just the two of us again, I turned to leave but Inuyasha called out to me again. "Looks like you're blending in here. A real chameleon or just within your element here?"

Turning on my heel, I stormed back up to his table. Leaning over I put my finger as close to his face as I could. "I survive. It's what I've always done and those girls back at the home wouldn't if they were tossed out on the street. So remember that when you think I'm okay with any of this. With you, this place, getting my ass grabbed daily, or even going through your audition. I'm a survivor and I will survive this."

He had backed up a little in his seat but I'd rid the distance in an instant. Big golden eyes danced between my finger, eyes, and lips. "I can see that." I slowly removed myself from his bubble and he crossed his arms over his chest like he was the one wronged. "I said I was sorry the other night. I lost control and took things too far…"

"Do you say that to all the others too? Is this your blanket apology for using women the way that you do?"

He had been looking toward the exit but snapped back to me with my words. "What are you talking about?"

I huffed, pissed to the point of tears. "Fine. Play dumb. Stop coming here and watching me. I'm not going to screw up your stupid club."

He tried to say something but I really wasn't interested. It wasn't like we didn't live together, not that I ever saw him at home either. If he really wanted to talk to me, he could do it there.

I caught Koga grinning at me as I stormed away, feeling Inuyasha's glare on my back. All I could think was that I really had fallen into a den of demons somehow.

oOo

Checking every day, every hour, I didn't see Inuyasha return. A week had passed and he hadn't come back to the club. Meaning things went back to the way they were, not seeing or hearing from him at all. This time I was glad.

That is until I got to work on another Friday night.

The place was packed and Koga was far too pleased about it. "Kagome you're going on stage tonight."

"Wait, what?!"

"We're short-staffed and I've gotten requests. So you're dancing tonight. Be ready to go on after Kiki."

I was numb, staring at my reflection at the vanity that Sango let me use. She was doing something with my hair but I felt none of it. The only man I'd ever been naked in front of was Inuyasha and I was fine with that. It was a livable condition to my servitude. But now I was going to be naked in front of a ton more. As I said, the place was packed tonight so easily 50-60 people were going to see my bush.

"It's not that big a deal, Kagome, I promise."

"That's easy for you to say! You can dance! And you're super sexy."

Sango sat down beside her and frowned. "You're sexy!" When I frowned in return, she kept on. "You are! Plus, dancing isn't so bad. You're alone and no one is touching you. It's easy to pretend you're just dancing in front of your mirror. Stay out of the champagne rooms though. They touch a lot in there."

I'd heard about those rooms and had stayed clear the entire time I'd worked here. But I was a server. As a dancer, if someone paid to take me in there, didn't I have to go?

The question was bouncing around in my brain when the door to the dressing room slammed open. Inuyasha took a quick look around and when his eyes landed on me, they went from bronze to molten metal. The others squealed and ran while I was frozen in my seat, Sango stuck by me even as he stormed up and ripped me up from my seat. The only thing he said or did before dragging me out was grab a robe and throw it at me.

"Cover yourself."

In the bra and panty set I had worn there that night, cause no way in hell was I borrowing from anyone else, it was nearly my turn to go on but Inuyasha was taking us towards the exit. Koga stood near it, shaking with anger and...fear?

"I told you. I fucking warned you. She's not to go on the fucking stage. Ever. She can't even dance!"

"Look, I got requests, what was I supposed to do…"

"Tell them to fuck off, that's what! Jesus, what the hell do I pay you for?! When some asshole with a few bucks tells you what to do and you listen to them instead of me?"

Koga's head hung low but I didn't feel any pity in the slightest. "Sorry, Boss."

Inuyasha still had my hand in a death grip but he put his free one on Koga's shoulder. It was the kindest act I'd ever seen him do. "If anyone bothers you, you call me. Got it?"

I didn't get to see how Koga reacted, Inuyasha pulling us out into the night. He stopped, only to wrap his coat around me before shoving me into his car. The ride was silent until I could take it no longer. Anger was surging in me. Sure, he saved me but who asked him anyway?!

"I don't get you at all. You put me in a strip club to work but then get pissed because people want me to take off my clothes?"

"You're a server."

"IN A STRIP CLUB! What did you think was going to happen?!"

"I thought you'd do your fucking job!"

A dark laugh escaped my lips and Inuyasha turned to glare at me. "My fucking job? Interesting words coming from you. Considering you bought me to fuck you."

"I told you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to …"

I wanted him to stop apologizing because it made the loss of my virginity a regret to him. I didn't regret it, I had enjoyed it until he opened his fat mouth! "It doesn't change a thing! Your apology doesn't change that night and it doesn't make my hymen magically grow back! And it doesn't change your complete lack of care for my feelings on the subject either!"

"Lack of care?!"

"I know I should be thankful...that things could be a lot worse…" I really tried not to, because I didn't want to give him my tears, but I couldn't stop them either. "But it's hard to feel anything but resentment when I went from being surrounded by angels all day to working for the devil."

I cut my sobs off after five escaped and Inuyasha listened to each one. It made me wonder if he got off on them until he spoke again. "The devil huh? That's how you see me?"

Nothing more was said even as we split off to our rooms. The devil going silently into his and I could honestly say for the first time that I hated someone. Cause I hated Inuyasha.

oOo

I half expected Inuyasha to show up at the club again the next day. But with him nowhere in sight two hours in, I considered him a no show and went about business as usual.

Sango was happy to see me, jumping up as soon as I entered the dressing room while everyone else seemed surprised to see me as well. "Oh man, last night was intense. You're okay, right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Inuyasha is just...weird…"

"Weird? I thought it was hot as hell. I wish I had a boyfriend that protective. I was wondering why you were just a server all this time but now I get it…"

"Wait," I stopped her ramble with a gentle hand in her face, "that guy is not my boyfriend."

"Huh? Then who the hell is he? The way he dragged you out of here I thought for sure he made you quit…."

"What the hell do you mean, who is he? He's the boss!"

Sango's face and those eavesdropping around us twisted in confusion. "No, Koga's the boss."

I looked around, finding faces that agreed. "Wait...so when you said you auditioned for the boss…"

"Yeah, Koga. He made us all strip for him in his tiny little office. I was scared he'd do more but that was it."

I felt faint, my head getting light and my breaths feeling shallow. "But I thought… Inuyasha…."

"Kagome? Are you alright?"

Sango was holding me up off the floor and I gripped her shoulders tight. "Yeah, I just… need some air…"

If she didn't have her first set in five minutes, I was sure Sango would have gone with me. As it was, I wasn't sure I wanted the company anyway, following her finger to the back door of the dressing room.

It was freezing out, middle of January, and snow falling lightly from the black sky above. The cold helped my brain though, forcing the sticky feeling inside it to freeze so it would function.

So when Inuyasha said he was sorry...what had he said? He didn't mean to, that he lost control. Did he never intend to sleep with me? He was Koga's boss but not the boss of the other women? How did that make sense? It was if he had some kind of loyalty and he was actually showing it to me but I didn't understand or know how to take it.

Damn, now I hated him a little less.

"Hey."

So lost in thought, I missed the guy standing nearby, smoking. He took a step closer and I took a step back. It pushed me into the dark and him into the light. The bright red bulb at the end of his cigarette as he took a long drag and then tossed it. His features were sharp and dangerous looking, even with his long, wavy locks that softened his appearance. It was his eyes really, they were dull and lifeless and set on her.

"You're...Kagome right?" I really didn't like that he knew my name. "I'm a bit of a fan of yours. I'm Naraku."

He stuck out a hand but I refused to remove mine from their wrapped position around my chest. Naraku chuckled as he dropped the offer, digging in his pocket for something so I took another step back. A new cigarette and lighter in his hands, I still didn't relax, trying to slide towards the door. If he noticed, he said and did nothing as I grabbed a hold of the handle and pulled with all my might. But the door didn't budge.

"It's locked from the outside. Usually, the girls leave something to block the door but I guess they didn't tell you about that, did they?" he was grinning while my skin was trying to find a new home far from him. "Why don't you dance? You have a killer body and are so damn sexy. Does Inuyasha have a reason for not letting you? I must admit, it has me curious about your relationship to him."

"We don't have a relationship past employee and employer."

He shook his head, clucking his tongue at me. "Koga is your boss. Or...isn't he?" I fidgeted, looking for a way out. "Oh...I see… you belong to Inuyasha, don't you? Just what is your title then?"

My only choice was to walk around the building to the front, which I was about to do when the door popped open and Sango's head appeared. "Kagome? There you are! Sorry, I forgot to warn you about the lock…"

I was breezing past her, not worrying about the slip-up and Sango was glaring at Naraku. "If you ever want a change of pace, Kagome, let me know."

The door slammed heavily behind us and I couldn't be happier. Sango was still looking behind us as if Naraku had a key he forgot to mention. "You should stay away from that guy, Kagome. I'm not sure why he's even allowed near the building."

"Why do you say that?"

She looked back at me, her face pale. "Well...he snaked away a few of the girls that worked here a few years ago to work at his house or something. He promised them more pay and no stripping. But the last I heard he was sleeping with all of them and only some of them were willing."

I didn't bother hiding my disgust, nearly vomiting on the dark tile below us. Sango looked sick too. We were making our way back towards the front, Sango required to 'meet and greet' after her show and get tips. I was supposed to get tips too but I think they all went to Inuyasha or something. They could all go to the home for all I cared, I was loyal to the cause.

Naomi ran up to us as soon as we made it out of the hall and into the main floor. "Kagome, someone is here for you."

If it was Naraku again, I was just going to slug him and call over Koga. But it wasn't him. It was Mother Kaede.

And Naraku shows up, so you know there's going to be issues. Drama. Angsty drama. Weeeeeee...

[lugialagia]

A new life

Summary : War is destroying Asgard and Hela is winning. Valkyrie is supposed to be brave but she decides to run away and ends falling on Sakaar. That’s where she finds love, in a place where she would never think of finding happiness again.

Pairing : Valkyrie x alien!reader (3rd person)

Words : 2,297

War was at rage on Asgard. Val's squadron perished, she was the only survivor. Her courage and her honor should have make her fight until her death, or her oponent's, but her cowardice made her run away. She ran, leaving her family, her realm behind her, to the hands of the worse tyran of the whole history; Hela.

Flying away on her pegasus, she went up toward the dark sky. But Hela wasn't done with her. The Goddess shot an attack toward the horse and the woman didn't see it. Val couldn't avoid the blast of magic and the poor stalion died immediately, making the young woman to fall into the abyss.

At this moment, she was thinking about everyone that she had abandoned, even if they already were in Valhala. She thought that they would reject her after what she had done, after being a coward. But honestly, she didn't think she was going to join them in Valhala, she would surely perish in Hel's realm.

The fall was going to be hard and kill her. Val was Aesir, yes, but no matter where she would fall, she will never make it alive. But, by chance, a portal opened right under her. It was invisible, but the woman did feel the changing in the air and that's when she understood that she would land in another realm. The fall was less important that what she expected but she still stood up with difficulties and a few grunts. Looking around, she saw that there was only trash and rocks. This was a realm unknown to her, this was probably out of Yggdrasil.

***

Walking for two days, she went through different landscapes. Fields with blue grass, forests with bended trees, hillsthat were moving like a water mattress. But even with all that walking, she didn't see any form of life. Until a man with purple skin came toward her. By instinct, Val drew out her sword, ready to fight even if she was in a weak state. But the man quickly raised his hand in front of him. "I come in peace. Inhabitants signaled an unusual presence in their land."

"I never saw anyone." she said, suspicious. "What you don't see, doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. Anyway, the Grandmaster wants to welcome you into his community. Please follow me." the man stated.

Starving and on an unknown realm, without nowhere to go, she decided to follow the strange man. "I still have some question to ask about." she suddenly said. "What's the name of this realm?" she asked. "You are on Sakaar." replied the man. "l must be far away from home." she murmured to herself. "I don't even know this planet. Anyway, who's this Grandmaster?"

Surely, the man had a big ego to be named like this. "The Grandmaster is the first man to landed a feet on Sakaar. Before him, there was no form of life here. Sakaar is a trash planet, surrounded by portals." he explained. "We come here only by mistake. The Grandmaster lived alone here for years before someone else fell from a portal, so it is natural for him to be the Master of this planet."

After a long conversation, they finally arrived in the city that the Grandmaster built. The Aesir was clearly surprised, everything looked like a real city but all was made from old frame of ships or metals. Udon, the purple skinned man, led the woman inside the biggest building, where the Grandmaster were living. The exterior was all trash and dirt, but the inside was strangely luxurious and modern. Val wasn't used to this type of decoration, but it was better than what was outside. Red, white, blue and gold seemed to be the favorite colors of the Grandmaster. And everything was shiny.

A man with a golden robe was standing in front of a large window. "Grandmaster, I brought the new girl." declared Udon. Hearing those words, the Grandmaster turned around. He was older than Val, that was for sure seeing his wrinkles and white hair all over his head. Like everything in this fortress, he was wearing red and blue clothes under the golden robe. A strange blue line marked his bottom lip and chin. He looked nice but Val knew that monsters could hide behing a pretty shell.

"Oh! Welcome on Sakaar, pretty girl." he greeted happily. Even with his happy smile, the woman was still ready to take her sword if he was becoming suspicious. "May I know your name?" he then asked. "Val." she simply replied.

"Never heard that name." he mused. "That's because it's just a nickname. And you? Grandmaster? Seriously, I can see your head inflate from here." she snorted back. "Oh but she's biting! I love this! Udon, give her the room A25." the Grandmaster said, dismissing them.

Udon nodded and did just as he was asked. Val found the Grandmaster nice but she had doubt because of his arrogance and ego. The hallways were all looking the same -almost- and they were made of the same material. "Here is your suite." the man said as he opened the door.

The woman was pulled out of her thoughts when he spoke. Shaking her head a bit, she entered her new bedroom. Of course, it was in the same style that everything else, but she liked the color better; blue and silver. She shrugged a bit like to say that it wasn't that bad. Of course, she used to live in luxury in the palace, her chambers were made of serveral rooms and everything was golden. Everything she wanted, everything she could have. Here, it was different. But it was still pretty nice. And she needed to get used to it since she wouldn't go back on Asgard, if Asgard still was, of course. "You're a lucky one. The Grandmaster seems to like you, he gave you one of his best room." Udon declared. "Really? I must have made a good impression." she replied with an arched brow.

"Most certainly. Every survivors only have a simple room with barely a bed on which to sleep. And if they are getting aggressive, they're thrown in the dungeon of the arena." Udon explained. After that, silence started to fill the room. "Well, l will leave you there. If you have any issue or if you want something, push the button next to the door or the bed." he explained, pointing to a black and golden button that looked like a switch light. "A maid shall come for you."

"Thank you, Udon." Val said before he left. Now alone, she was thinking back about everything that previously happened and every emotion she buried, came back hard. She was sad to have lost her people, her family, but she was also deeply angry against herself for being such a coward, disgusted to not have perished with the rest of the soldiers. Val was strong, physically and mentally, this was a true fact, but right now, it was too much.

Without understanding anything, she slid down against the wall right before she could reach the bed with silky sheets. Head hidden between her knees, tears were rolling down her cheeks like waterfalls. Her body were shaking, her breathing was harsh to the point where she felt like suffocating. Her fallen friends' faces were haunting her.

Suddenly, hands were on her shoulders. The woman lifted her head up with a swift movement and by instinct, tried to reach for her sword. But in her state, she just confused her left and right. An unknown face was standing only inches away from her, she could see the person's lips moving, but she didn't hear anything. The other woman seemed to be young compared to Val. Her orange skin reminded her of the sun settings and her blue hair the deep water seas. White marks decorated her eyes, starting on her forehead to stop under her purple eyes. "Miss! Miss, please calm down. You are safe. Please, take a deep breath."

Her soft voice finally started to reach Val's ears while the maid continued to repeat the same words over and over again. Tears started to stop falling and her breathing was back to normal. "How do you feel?" Y/N asked. "Good, l think." Val replied, still a bit lost. "Who are you? How did you know l needed help?"

"I am your maid, Miss. You called for me." she said, pointing to the button above them. Val didn't recall pushing it, but in her previous state, maybe she accidentally did without thinking about it. "Wait here, I will bring you something to make you feel better." Y/N said, standing up. "Wait...uh...what's your name?" the Aesir asked. "Y/N, Miss."

Then, Y/N left the room with a smile. Little by little, Val felt the fog in her mind disappear and she started to remember what happened. It surely last a few minutes, but to her, it felt like hours. When Y/N came back with a tray with food and water, Val was sitting on the bed, head in hands. The maid put the tray down on the bedside table and knelt in front of the woman. "How do you feel?" she asked softly. "Better, l think." Val replied without much of conviction.

* * *

A few weeks passed by and Val was getting used to her new life on this unknown planet. She was definitely feeling better and she even worked as a Collector, like Udon, after refusing to be a Fighter. The Grandmaster promised her fortune if she accepted to fight in the arena for special occasion, the true fights being reserved to mobsters or traitors.

In the end, she liked this new life. She was trying to forget her past and her mistakes. And it was also thanks to Y/N even if she wouldn't admit it out loud. The two were close now, like they were childhood friends. And Val saw her like a friend more than a maid, even more... "Oh sorry Val! I didn't know you were in there!" Y/N said while looking away. "I knocked but you didn't replied so..."

"It's okay, l was in my thoughts." Val replied, a towel wrapped around her chest. "Maybe you just did this on purpose." she joked, a smirk on her face. "N-no! Why would I do that?" Y/N scoffed as her cheeks started to be flushed. Val shrugged a bit in response. Y/N unconsciously observed her body, feeling irremediably attracted and aroused. But that's also when she discovered a unique tattoo on her right arm, something that she knew of.

"Val for Valkyrie..." she whispered. All trace of joke disapeared from the Aesir's face. She didn't want to feel all this shame again. "Get out." she ordered. "Val, l don't know..." Y/N tried. "Get. Out. Now!" even if she didn't want to, Y/N left the bathroom. She didn't know what was wrong, why the other woman reacted this way. She was a Valkyrie! They were known on every realm of the galaxy! And Y/N was glad she could be in her presence, it was an honor. So why this reaction? Why didn't she tell her?

The maid was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a loud noise in the bathroom. Without thinking about it, she opened the door and she froze at the sight of the Aesir with a bloody hand and a broken mirror. Y/N slowly approach her like she was a wounded animal, she didn't want her to run away or be angry. She took her hand softly, like she was the only who could do that. Eyes cold and heart in pain, Val still knew what was best, so she let herself being guided toward the bed, staring at the orange hand in her, now red because of her blood. But Y/N didn't care, her hand was were it was meant to be.

And it was staring at their hands that Val laid down on the mattress. She then talked about everything she had in mind. Her life, Hela, the war, her army's death, her escape, her shame. She couldn't stop. In the end, Val looked at Y/N, obviously thinking that the woman would reject her, but all she could see in her purple orbs was love. "Val, I don't care what you have done. I won't judge you on that. I also made mistakes in the past, but that is a story for another time." Y/N said with a smile. "All I see is the woman you are now, on Sakaar."

No word came out of the Aesir after that. She just leaned forward and pressed her lips against Y/N one. And of course, without any hesitation, Y/N returned the kiss.

* * *

"After that, we continued our story as survivor and maid. But the Grandmaster saw what was between us. So, after a few months of being together, he made her a Collector and also my coworker." Val said with nostalgia. "I lost her...on a mission." she continued in a whisper. "A whole ship arrived on Sakaar and they weren't really friendly. We had a team but we still had to fight. She did what she could." she said with a sob.

Thor placed a warm hand on her shoulder in compassion. "What's worse...it's time." Val continued after taking a breath. "I'm sure that only a few years passed on Asgard, but on Sakaar, we lived a dozen of years together." Thor nodded. "l understand why you were so down, but you're not the only one in this state now." he said as he looked at all the empty beer bottle around him. "But you're still more able to run New Asgard than me."

Val sighed and took another breath. "I'll do my best. At least for Y/N." she declared. "For Y/N." Thor repeated.

[thecolorpomegranate]

someday (i’ll make it out of here) [book i, part i]

A/N: This is a fic I have posted on AO3 about Peter Parker. It’s a whumpy fic about Peter getting kidnapped and Tony having to build a weapon to save him while trapped in his lab. 

Warnings: violence, angst, torture, kidnapping, captivity, drugging

Tony Stark is a survivor of horrors. Countless horrors. He’s survived a cold childhood, the simultaneous loss of both of his parents, kidnapping by terrorists, torture, open heart surgery without anesthetic, betrayal by his most trusted business partner, chemical poisoning, post-traumatic stress disorder, Pepper’s kidnapping, the alien attack on New York, his AI’s sadistic rebellion, the near-destruction of the nation of Sokovia, the betrayal of Steve Rogers, a battle with the Winter Soldier, the subsequent collapse of the Avengers… He’s suffered much more than the average person.

 Before now, Tony thought he had intimate knowledge of the dark intricacies of horror.

 But on April 7th, 2018, nearly a year after the Avengers broke up, Tony found out how painfully wrong he was.

  APRIL 6 — 2:11 PM

 “We can’t have ice cream now, honey,” Maggie Paxton reminds her daughter, just as seven-year-old Cassie pouts, sprawling her arms out on the table in protest. “You’ll spoil your dinner for later! We’re eating early tonight.” Ice cream at any time of day is always Scott’s way of lighting up Cassie’s life, but Maggie is firm this time. Cassie will see Scott next weekend; she can eat ice cream nonstop then.

 Jim Paxton taps his stepdaughter’s nose. “C’mon, Cassie, we’re having ramen tonight! You know how much you love ramen!”

 Cassie giggles and tries to catch his hand before it leaves her face. “I love ramen!” she squeals, throwing her hands into the air. “Ramen, ramen, ramen…” She lapses into a sing-song rendition of the word “ramen,” over and over again, spinning around on her stool. “Ramen, ramen, ramen!”

 Jim and Maggie share an amused glance. “I know, honey,” laughs Maggie, “we had it last week, too.”

 “You know what we can do, though?” suggests Jim. He took Friday off to spend with his family, and it has honestly been the best decision he’s made in a while. Spending time with Cassie makes his heart swell; he knows she’s Scott Lang’s daughter, not his, and he knows he’ll never be her true father, but Cassie sees him as this glowing person in her life, and at least he has that. To him, Cassie is every bit his daughter. “Take a trip to the zoo!”

 Cassie spins around again to look at Jim, her eyes wide with anticipation. “Really?”

 “Really, really,” replies Maggie, grinning. “You wanna go?”

 Cassie beams. Both Maggie and Jim know that Cassie loves the zoo more than anything. Seeing the animals always sends her screaming around the place.

 At the sound of the doorbell ringing, Jim gets up from the table to answer the door, and Cassie clambers into Maggie’s lap, throwing her arms around her mother’s neck. “Thank you, thank you!” Maggie can hear Jim speaking to someone at the door; vaguely, she wonders who it is. The mailman, probably. “You think we can see the belugas this time? I wanna see the belugas!”

 Maggie kisses her daughter’s forehead. “Of course we can, honey. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t let you see the belugas?” She wasn’t sure what belugas were, to be honest; some kind of dolphin? As a thirty-seven year old woman, she should probably know this by know. “Those are like dolphins, right?”

 Cassie looks scandalized. “Mommy, they’re whales!” she exclaims. “They’re white, with big heads, and they can dive up to two thousand feet below the water, that’s what Miss Smith told me!” She continues with all the facts she has about belugas, her new favorite animal.

 At the door, Jim’s voice is loud now, echoing down the hall to the kitchen. “—telling you, we didn’t order a package. You’ve got the wrong—” His voice comes to a strange halt, followed by a massive thump, so startling that even Cassie looks up from her rant about beluga whales.

 “Jim?” Maggie calls out, concerned now; Cassie hops down from her lap. “Are you okay? Do you—”

 As she turns the corner, she sees them: Jim on the floor, red dripping down the side of his face, and two men and a woman crowded around him, each wearing a UPS uniform and wielding a gun.

 Like a rough slap across the face, Maggie’s terror strikes her hard and fast. She shoves Cassie behind her—

 “—there’s the kid! Grab her, quick—”

 —and screams for her to run; her mind screeches, get Cassie out, get her out of here, and she grabs the first thing she sees: Cassie’s tennis racket, and blazing pain tears up her arm, and the handle slips from her fingers. Shot. She’s been shot. She grabs the next item, an expensive, ceramic bowl, from the shelf beside her; as a hand wraps around her wrist, she spins and smashes it against her attacker’s head with an animalistic scream. She scrambles to her feet again, something hot spilling down her forearm, and leaps into the kitchen, heart pounding, searching for her next weapon, anything, leaping for the rack of kitchen knives—

 “Hey!” A heavy blow to her side, and she is on the ground again, coughing and wheezing and praying that Cassie escaped. An arm around her neck, locking her in a stronghold, and then there’s metal against her temple. “Get the fuck up, get up!” Maggie struggles against the person behind her, grabbing a handful of red hair and yanking hard, scraping at skin with her fingernails. “Ow! You fucking bitch!” Hard metal slams against her temple, and Maggie’s brain slips away.

 Blood roars in her ears. Cassie, Cassie, not my little girl! Muffled screaming: “Get the fuck out here, Cassie, or I’ll kill your precious mommy! You want that? You want your mom dead on the floor? I’ll kill this bitch! I’ll kill her, I will! Cassie! Cassie!”

 Maggie clings to the one bit of lucidity she has and cries out, “No, Cassie, don’t—”

 And pain crashes over the side of her head, a torment of black waves, and then nothing.

    APRIL 6 — 4:33 PM

 Another fist slams into Scott’s mouth, and pain blossoms across his jaw. He spits on the ground, a splatter of red, and glares at the man in front of him. “Fuck you,” he says, and he’s surprised by his own profanity. He gave up swearing once he found one-year-old Cassie shouting “Shit!” every time she wanted one of her stuffed toys. But now, after four hours of this angry motherfucker and his brass knuckles, he’s about to snap. He’s trying to stay positive, but the fact that no one even knows he’s gone is really grating on his mind right now. He doesn’t even have a plan to escape; currently, his only plan is to annoy this guy until he breaks.

 The man snarls and launches another fist at him, furious. “You think this is helping anyone, Lang?” he growls. “You wanna be ripped to pieces?”

 Scott can’t remember what this guy’s name is. Max? Mark? “Well, it wasn’t on my schedule, Martin, but I mean, if you’ve got nothing else to do—”

 Another fist, this time to his knee, and Scott gasps with the sudden pain of it. That was more than a punch. He heard something snap. “You and your fucking jokes,” says Probably-Martin. “I’m sick of them. How about I take out your fucking tongue this time, huh? How’d you like that?”

 Scott shrugs, as nonchalantly as one could while tied to a chair and aching from hours of torture. “It’s the twenty-first century, buddy; I’d just get myself one of those Stephen Hawking things, maybe learn some sign langua—ah!”

 Pain surges through his foot, so horrible that he can barely breathe, and Scott screams, his cocky smile dropping from his face. When he finally gathers himself, taking shaky gasps of air, the man smirks, victorious. “Next time I hear another one of your jokes,” snaps Probably-Martin, “I’ll smash your hand instead.”

 Scott bites the inside of his cheek, just to keep himself from crying out again. He doesn’t want to look down at the damage that has been just done to his right foot, but he has to. He takes one glance...and immediately regrets it. The pain of his new injury seems to grow the longer he stares; Probably-Martin stepped on his foot so hard that it looks broken and smashed and wrong; Scott’s hands tighten around the arms of the chair. Stay strong, he reminds himself. Someone will come save you. Hank or Hope or the police or even the Avengers. And then you’ll be okay.

 There’s another man in the room now, one with a brown beard and wild eyes. Bearded-Psycho, Scott dubs him, proud of himself. He smiles weakly, lifting his head to watch Bearded-Psycho and Probably-Martin argue. “I told you not to touch his hands, Mason!” Ah, thinks Scott. Mason. That was the man’s name. “It’s not like we can do this for him! We need those fucking hands!”

 “I didn’t touch his hands!” Mason protests.

 As they argue, Scott lets out a shaky breath. He liked to think of himself as one of those happy-go-lucky, jokester superheroes, like Iron Man or even that Spiderguy from Queens, but right now all he doesn’t feel like a superhero. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is terrified. He shoves the fear to the back of his head with every ounce of composure he has—if he loses his sense of humor, he’ll lose his mind. Somehow, cracking jokes at his abuser makes it seem less grave in his mind, like he can break free of his bonds at any moment. Humor keeps his hope alive and burning in his chest.

 “And his head!” Bearded-Psycho snarls, and Scott flinches in his bonds. “We need his head!” Shit, he thinks, embarrassed at his involuntary display of fear. The only way to fight back against these guys is to laugh in the face of fear, but here he is, jumping like a little kid watching a horror movie. “Why the fuck would you think it’s a good idea to smash his head around? He’s practically bleeding out of his ears!”

 “Charlie,” Mason attempts, “I didn’t—”

 Bearded-Psycho (or Charlie or whatever his name is) is huge compared to Mason, so when he suddenly grabs the other man and slams his head against the wall—“Shit! Charlie, wait!”—until there’s blood running down his face, he makes it look easy, like beating up a kid.

 Scott doesn’t feel the victory of watching his torturer bleed against the wall; all he feels is the electrifying anticipation of pain spiking through his body. This man, this Bearded-Psycho… He could crush Scott if he wanted to. Scott tries to make himself as small as possible. Any movement he makes will surely turn Charlie’s violent rage onto him. But even as Scott wills his body to stone, Charlie still turns around, wipes his hands on his jeans, and trains his eyes on Scott.

 Fuck. Ready for another blow, probably ten times more painful than Mason’s, Scott winces, tensing his whole body and squeezing his eyes shut. Where will he hit him: his stomach, his legs, his feet?

 A low chuckle greets him instead. “Look, Lang,” says Charlie calmly, as Scott opens his eyes with caution, “we’ve given you chance after chance to agree to our terms.”

 Scott coughs. Yeah, he remembers the terms. It was the first thing that Mason said to him. “Sorry,” says Scott, laughing nervously. “Felonies aren’t on my to-do list, Chuck. No thanks.”

 Charlie’s smile is nerve-wrecking, like Scott’s submission is inevitable, and Scott squirms, uncomfortable. Pain swirls in his foot, and he grits his teeth. Sweat trickles down his back. “If you say so, Lang.” His voice is calm. Too calm. Standing up abruptly, he shouts at Mason, who’s currently on the floor, moaning about his head. “Keep going, Mason. Don’t stop until I come back. And for fuck’s sake, leave his hands and his head.”

 Mason pushes himself into a sitting position and groans a reluctant “fine.” He’s angrier now, fueled by pain as well as frustration, and Scott swallows hard. When Charlie finally leaves the room, Mason growls, “Fuck you, Lang. You see what you did to me?”

 Dread drenching his thoughts, Scott grits his teeth. “I’m pretty sure American Psycho’s the one who busted your head open, ‘cause he’s not the one tied to a chai—”

 Another debilitating punch smashes into his body, this time cracking a rib and splattering across his chest. As Mason rubs his knuckles, Scott struggles for air and prays that someone will save him soon. He doesn’t know how long he can stand this.

  APRIL 6 — 5:01 PM

 As the ringing stops and goes to voicemail, Julia Keene sighs and puts her phone down on the table. It’s the third time that night she’s tried to call Charlie, and still nothing. Although she’s a police officer and he went off the rails years ago, she still loves him more than anything. He always spared time for her, at least for a text or a phone call, every couple of days.

 But Julia hasn’t spoken to Charlie in a month. It’s been too long since she’d talked to him, and she’s worried. Sure, Julia is a thirty-three, twice-married, working mother of two living in Queens, and Charlie is a twenty-eight year old drug addict living on the streets with a couple of prison notches on his belt, but Julia needs to know he is safe. He is her brother. Her baby brother. It was always Julia and Charlie against the world, and even though they split off years ago… She rubs her temples and tries not to think about it too much.

 “You called him again?” says someone behind her. It’s her husband of ten years, Cristian. His dark hair falls over his eyes as he slides into the chair beside her, sliding his hand over her back and rubbing gently.

 Julia falls into his touch, taking his other hand in hers. The kids are at school; Leila, the fourteen-year-old, is at musical rehearsal while Jaime, their eight-year-old, is at baseball practice. Leila is her daughter from her first marriage: she married her high school sweetheart, Damien, straight out of high school and had Leila a year later before discovering that he was a deadbeat drunk with a long history of violence. She met Cristian a couple years after divorcing Damien, and had Jaime two years after that. Now that she has the apple pie, picture-perfect life she’s always wanted (loving husband, healthy children, excellent career), it’s more than painful to lose Charlie.

 Cristian keeps rubbing her back in slow circles. “It’s been weeks,” she sighs. “Weeks, Cristian. And I… I know something bad happened to him. He’s never gone this long without talking to me.”

 Cristian shifts in his chair. “Look at me, mi vida,” he says, voice gentle. “I don’t know too much about your brother, but I do know that he’s a mess. He lives his life from one fix to another.” He squeezes her hand. “I know he loves you, but he’s a slave to his life of drugs and...crime. And it’s not your job to check in on him all the time. He’s an adult, Julia, and he can make his own decisions. And he’s always fine. He’ll be fine.”

 Julia nods into Cristian’s shoulder. “I know, I know, he’ll be fine.”

 Cristian smiles and gives her a quick kiss on the lips. “You okay?”

 She nods again, this time meeting his eyes. She’s still unsure, but at least she feels better about the whole situation. She loves Charlie, but Cristian’s right. He can make his own decisions.

  APRIL 6 — 6:37 PM

 Peter Parker has spent most of the past month in Tony’s lab , working on what they like to call “Project Kevlar,” after the substance that made bulletproof vests. Peter himself came up with the project, recognizing that many of the lower-income families of New York who experienced danger on a daily basis felt helpless to the violence they experienced and couldn’t call the police for help. Police officers often left the most vulnerable of the city’s community—poor, gang-ridden, and homeless citizens—exposed to harm.

 “It’s like what they use on college campuses,” Peter had explained, pride lighting up across his face. “The blue light system, you know?”

 Tony had chuckled lightly. “What do you know about college, kid? You’re only—”

 “I’m sixteen now, Mr. Stark,” Peter had reminded him, “and I’ve been on, like, three college visits! I know what it’s like!”

 The mayor of New York gave Stark Industries explicit permission to implement the system in the city; it was simple but brilliant, really. They would place tiny alert buttons all over the city in public areas, each fitted to survive any weather conditions, and people could press the alert buttons to call for help.

 Currently, they’re working together on a vital part of the system: the GSS, or the gunfire sensory system that could would automatically alarm them if a gun was used within the immediate vicinity of the alarm button. Tony is sprawled out on the couch, typing furiously on his laptop, as Peter bends over the worktable, a soldering iron in one hand and a circuit board in the other. To the left of Peter, a record player screeches ‘Killer Queen’ as the dark-haired boy nods his head to the beat.

 Glancing away from his screen, Tony frowns, temporarily halting his humming. “Peter!”

 The dark-haired boy’s hands jerks at the sudden noise. “Geez, Mr. Stark, a little warning next time!” A huff of frustration escapes him. “Now, I gotta solder that all over again.”

 Tony throws a pair of goggles at him in response.

 “Hey!” Peter protests, catching them only inches from his face.

 “You know what I said, kiddo,” Tony announces. “Rule Number One: No Soldering Without Goggles.”

 “I thought Rule Number One was No One Touches My Records,” Peter shoots back, chucking a pen at the older man. “And, by the way, if I hear another Queen song come on, I’m literally gonna throw that thing out the window.”

 Tony sits up straight, mouth open in mock surprise. “How dare you! Queen is the best! Queen is… It’s the greatest band to ever walk the planet!”

 Peter rolls his eyes. “You know, Mr. Stark, sometimes I forget how old you are! Listen to some AJR or something, come on!” But nonetheless, Peter slides the goggles on his face.

 Before he can grab the soldering iron again, however, Pepper pokes her head into the lab, knocking gently on the glass. “Tony? We’ve gotta get going soon, we—” Her eyes land on the teenager perched at her fiancé’s worktable. “Oh, Peter! I didn’t know you were here.”

 “Yeah, sorry,” Peter stammers. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your night, Ms. Potts.”

 Pepper laughs, sitting down on the couch next to Tony. “That’s totally fine, Peter. You know you’re welcome here anytime.” Closing Tony’s laptop with one manicured hand (he protests with an irritated “hey!”), she turns back to the teenager. “You do know it’s a Friday night, don’t you? Shouldn’t you be out with your friends?”

 Peter scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah… It’s just I had this new idea for Project Kevlar, and I asked Mr. Stark, and he said it was okay, and…” He glances nervously at Tony. “Sorry. I’ll be gone in a few minutes, Ms. Potts.”

 Pepper smiles gently at him. “You know you can call me Pepper; I’m not that old.”

 Peter shrugs awkwardly. “The only adult I call by their first name is May! She’d kill me if I ever called Mr. Stark” —he cringed— “Tony.”

 Tony chuckles, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. “Well, we’ll work on that one, kiddo.”

 Pepper clicks her tongue. “As much as I’d love to watch you waste your childhood in Tony’s lab,” she tells Peter, giving him a playful look, “Tony and I have somewhere we need to be.”

 “Where?” chorus Peter and Tony.

 Pepper gives Tony the stern I-told-you-this-months-ago look that she always uses. “The charity gala? It’s for the Yemeni Women’s Union.”

 “Ah, right… the charity thing.” He pouts. “Do we have to go?”

 “Yes!”

 Pepper tosses his tie in his lap as Peter scrambles to stuff his supplies back into his backpack. “Sorry again, Ms. Potts! Have fun at the gala, Mr. Stark!”

 “It’s Tony, kid!” he declares, just as the spider-kid jumps to the door.

 Peter gives him a mischievous smile, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Bye, Mr. Stark.”

 Pepper’s still laughing to herself when the door closes behind the kid.

  APRIL 6 — 7:09 PM

 Sometimes, Charlie’s guilt aches like an old gunshot wound, sending painful spikes of regret spilling down his throat. Sometimes, his plan feels like shame, not pride, so he has to force himself to continue, one foot in front of the other. It’s in those moments when he needs his fix the most: angel dust, most days, sometimes with a spike of something else.

 He pops a couple pills in his mouth and swallows hard. His sister once told him that taking drugs like this means he loses control over his body, that he relinquishes his throne to the drug instead of his brain, but what the hell does she know? Charlie is more in control than he’d ever been.

 Charlie feels a warm buzz crackle through his bones, a familiar sensation, as the pill he’d just taken finally starts to work. Charlie lets out a relieved sigh, laughing a little. Everything seems to come back into focus: the plan, the future, the people… He knows. He knows.

 Renee, his wife, will be back in a few minutes with the one thing they need to force that asshole Scott Lang to do what they wanted. And once they have Scott under their control, everything will fall into place, like dominoes.

 From the other side of their base, he hears the door creak open, followed by the sound of a child crying and a woman yelling. “Charlie? Charlie!”

 When he stands up, he staggers a little, but he quickly recovers, moving to meet Renee and the rest of them at the entrance to the base.

 Renee has the girl by her waist as she squirms, crying through her gag and wiggling her bound wrists. “Sorry I’m late,” she says. “Traffic was terrible.”

 Charlie grins. Finally. “You got her!”

 “Yep,” she says. “Those motherfucking parents were a pain in my ass, but I still got her. Any luck with Lang?”

 He shakes his head as the little girl lets out a pained wail. “He just cracks jokes and refuses to help us.”

 Renee smirks and shoves the girl to her feet. “Walk, kid. Walk.”

 Now that Charlie has a good look at the kid, she looks a lot like Lang. Scott Lang’s Asian features are prevalent in the kid’s hair and face, and that defiant look in her eyes had to come from him. Her dark hair hangs scraggly around her head, and her face is red and swollen with tears. It hits Charlie, all at once, how young she is: probably six or seven years old. Her face is so full, her eyes so big, her body so tiny… He shakes his head. It doesn’t matter how young she is. They need to get Scott Lang on board, and Cassie Paxton, or Lang or whatever the hell her name is, is their ticket.

 He leads Renee to what they’re starting to call the Room, the place where the whole show’s gonna happen. It’s a small space: ten feet wide and ten feet long, with a metal chair bolted into the center. On one side is a sink and a toilet, and the other has a folding table of various weapons and other materials.

 Currently, Scott Lang is strapped to the chair in the center, his head hung low, murmuring to himself. Mason is taking another swing for Scott’s knee when Renee yells, “Hey, we’ve got her!”

 The back of the chair is facing them, so when Scott lifts his head to the sound of voices, he can’t see Charlie, Renee, or Cassie. But Mason can. His shoulders slump in relief as Renee shoves the kid into the Room. “Finally!”

 Lang’s looking terrible: his bruised face has swollen and darkened, his legs are damaged beyond repair, and it looks like at one point he pissed himself. Yet still he manages to conjure a shaky, Tony Stark-worthy grin and croak, “What’s next, fellas? The Iron Maiden?” in Charlie’s general direction.

 “No,” snaps Renee, and yanks the kid before Lang’s eyes. “She’s next.”

 It’s mesmerizing how quickly Lang’s grin melts; he goes pale, glancing from Cassie’s terrified face to Charlie’s victorious one. “No,” he manages, “no, no, no, no…”

 “Take her,” Charlie says, nodding to Renee and Mason. Lang’s still gasping “no,” over and over again, like a broken record, as though the fact that his seven-year-old daughter is actually in front of him has just struck him. Just as Cassie leaps for her dad, Mason grabs her by the back of her hoodie, pulling her back before she can touch him. “I’ll stay with Lang.”

 Scott Lang’s shaking his head now, frantic, his arms fighting maniacally against his bonds. “No, no! Please, no, she’s just a kid, leave her alone, please—please, you can’t, please, you wouldn’t—”

 Charlie hits him across the face so hard that his hand stings after the blow; a buzzing feeling goes through him, something like electric triumph, upon seeing Lang like this. Scott Lang is broken now, begging for mercy, after hours of torture, and all it took was one scared scream from the kid.

 “—p-please, I’m begging you, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt her—”

 “Shut up!” Charlie picks up Mason’s hammer as a warning. “One more word out of you, and this is going straight through your skull, understand?” Now, he understands why Mason is so frustrated. Lang talks too much.

 Lang trembles and tries not to make another sound. An odd, sickly silence follows, in which Lang shifts in his chair. Soaked in blood and urine, his pants squelch against the wood as he cranes his neck to try to see Cassie. His breathing transforms from pained groans to fearful, shallow panting, his fingers white-knuckled against the arms of the chair.

 Then it comes: a little girl’s blood-curdling scream, wet and painful and horrible, so Lang goes berserk, thrashing in his chair like a madman, words spilling from his mouth: “No, no—I’ll do whatever you want me to, please, oh, God, please, leave her be—Cassie! Cassie! Oh, fucking God, fuck, please, no, leave her, take me instead, I’ll do it, I'll do anything, anything, just leave her alone—Cassie, Cassie, Cassie!”

 Charlie watches it continue for ten seconds, thirty seconds, a minute, until finally, the screaming dies down and Lang, reduced to a sobbing mess, cries, “I’ll do it. I p-promise you, I’ll d-do it!”

 Charlie’s shoulders relax a little. “Good,” he says calmly. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  APRIL 6 — 7:42 PM

 “On the way back,” May Parker announces, “you’re driving, you little liar!” She’s driving with one hand on the wheel, the other dabbing on lipstick. At a sudden bump in the road, the tube misses her mouth, smearing pink on her chin, and she swears loudly.

 “I didn’t lie!” Peter whines back, stretching his legs out. “I am tired!”

 May wipes at her chin with the back of her hand, trying to make the pink go away. “You haven’t gone on patrol today, Peter!” Realizing she missed their turn, she makes a screeching U-turn before facing her nephew again. “How are you tired?”

 Okay, so maybe he’s squeezing the truth a little. Sure, he only hung out at Tony’s after school instead of patrolling like he said, but he hates driving. It sets his teeth on edge. When he drives a car, everything is a possible danger, and whenever he’s nervous like that, his Spidey Sense (or, as May likes to call it, his Peter tingle) goes insane. “School,” he claims, picking at his cuticles. “I had a calc test today; it sucked the life right out of my body!”

 May rolls her eyes as she pulls up to a stoplight. “Sure it did, kiddo. But you’re still driving on the way back. I’m gonna have some wine tonight, and no scaredy-cat teenage boy’s gonna tell me that I have to drive him home. You’re the designated driver tonight, Petey.”

 He slaps her arm. “May! Don’t call me that.”

 “What? You let Tony call you that—hey! Don’t change the music! That was a good song!”

 “It was Bruce Springsteen!”

 “Exactly!”

 Peter groans in protest. “No, please, don’t make me go back! I can’t survive another Springsteen song!”

 May gives him a devilish grin and changes the radio station back to its original song.

 “No! You skipped Say Something!”

 “My car, my rules, Peter—what’d I say? Don’t touch the radio—”

 “But it’s Justin Timberlake’s best song!”

 “I don’t care! Driver picks the music—”

 Fire races up Peter’s neck, flooding his system: danger. He jerks his head to the left, blinding white headlights— “May, look out!”

 He throws his arm out to protect her, because there’s no fucking way she can react fast enough to move the car out of the way, and then everything is—

 —chaos and spinning and jolting, pain splitting up his left arm, jerking around, his skull smashing against cold glass, screeching and whining, until finally—

 —tentative stillness, the car’s unbalanced rocking, and warmth trickling down (up?) his arm; his head whirs, dotted with pain, and it takes him a moment to realize that the unnatural heaviness of his head and the pull on his joints means he is upside down. The car is flipped upside down.

 Peter opens his eyes and fumbles for his seatbelt, his heart pattering in his chest. He turns—Aunt May. She hangs in her seatbelt like a broken arm in a sling: there is red everywhere. He chokes on his shock (one, two, three, get up, get out, you have to do something) and then calls her name: “May? May! May!”

 A click on his right side; the door swings open, and he nearly sobs in relief. “Help her,” he gasps. “Get her, she’s bleeding, help, ple—”

 Someone yanks him roughly from the car, and as he hits the ground he realizes: something is wrong. His Spidey-senses are a whirlwind of panic, and he glances up at the figure above him to realize that this is not a rescue attempt. Just as the man’s arm swings down, something thin clenched in his fist, he recognizes—this is an attack, and rolls hard to the right, away from the car. But he’s not fast enough—his head still rings from the impact and his left arm hangs limply at his side, so Peter’s not at his prime right now. So the object plunges into his arm instead of his chest, which he automatically thinks is a win...until he knocks it away and realizes it wasn’t a knife. It was a syringe. What the fuck? His body feels a little heavy, like he’s covered in wet cloth, but he still manages to shake off the strange feeling and keep going.

 Get up, Spiderman! he thinks, and then he’s on his feet again, dodging and punching and twisting and hitting until finally there’s four masked figures on the ground, unconscious or wishing they were. He doesn’t have time to quip or crack a smile; he barely has time to check himself for injuries as he rushes to Aunt May’s side of the car, flinging the door open. She’s still unconscious, upside down, her hair lolling back and forth with the rocking of the car. As he reaches for her, checking her pulse, his mind spins as the strangeness in his limbs worsens; his fingers press against May’s neck, and the faint flutter of a heartbeat he feels there sends hope scattering through his chest. Who are these people? They’re dressed like fucking villains: matching black, armored suits and facemasks. Matching weapons, even—massive guns and black-handled knives that they tried to use on Peter. Not including the syringe, and God knows why—

 Something pricks in his back, and Peter whirls back around to see another masked man holding an empty syringe. Numbness creeps up his feet, oddly cold, and Peter trips over himself as he swings his fists at the man; his body feels wrong, heavy, yet still he keeps fighting. This isn’t just a mugging in an alley—this is Aunt May’s life in his hands. Minute pain tickles his arm, and then ice creeps over his arms, spreading over his skin. Where the hell did that come from? There must be another one—he counted only five of them. Fuck. He knows the feeling by now—sickly sweet, numbing sensations ripple through his muscles. Peter turns around—his head is cotton candy, yanked apart piece by piece, and he tries to punch his new attacker, but he keeps missing. How? Spiderman doesn’t miss, he thinks vaguely, as the icy cold reaches into his brain and squeezes. Spiderman doesn’t…

 He’s on the ground now, his face pressed against grass, and his limbs flop uselessly at his sides. “Why the fuck did it take so many doses?” snaps an angry voice, just as the paralysis climbs up Peter’s jaw.

 “I… I don’t know,” admits the second. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

 “We gotta take care of her first, Dave.” Peter’s breath halts, slanting in his throat. Her could only mean one person: May. “We can’t afford to get caught.”

 A beat. “Take care...of her? I’m no killer, you ass. I may be helping you, but I’m not killing her. She didn’t do anything.”

 An irritated groan. “She wasn’t supposed to be here. It was just supposed to be the Spider guy—”

 “Just leave her, Jack. She’s gonna die before anyone finds her, anyway. Just look at her.”

 A horrible silence, as Peter awaits their decision. To them, it’s a matter of getting caught, but to Peter, they’re threatening his entire world. May is all he has left—frantic desperation rips up his spine, and he uses all the will he has left to try to move again, but nothing happens. Come on, Spiderman! Come on! Peter couldn’t save Uncle Ben, but he has to save May, he has to— “Fuck, fuck, fucking fine, let’s go. Grab him.”

 There’s a moment of strained relief followed by shuffling as Peter tries to move his arms, jerking his heavy arms in the voices’ direction. “Fuck! He’s still awake!”

 A sharp pain in his neck, a bloody fist, and then blissful darkness.

  APRIL 6 — 8:02 PM

 Maggie’s eyes are sticky, like she’s been asleep for a dozen years. Cold, stiff sheets. Aching pain. A voice calling her name.

 She squints up at a green-clothed man in front of her; he’s the one saying her name. “Blink if you can hear me, Mrs. Paxton.”

 She blinks, confused. “What… What happened?”

 He frowns. “You sustained several severe blows to the head. What’s the last thing you remember?”

 “I…” She takes a moment. She remembers going out to breakfast with Jim in the morning, picking up Cassie from kindergarten—

 Cassie. She scrabbles at the blankets; her right arm is useless, bound in thick bandages, so she pushes herself up with her other hand. “Cassie!” It all rushes back to her: Jim unconscious on the floor, the attack, the gunshot, the wild realization that they wanted Cassie— “Oh, God—where is she?”

 The nurse gulps and clasps his hands together tightly. “I’m not authorized to—”

 She’s never felt terror like this before—it’s horrible and electrifying, whipping up a frenzy of needles inside of her chest. She swings her good arm forward and grabs him by the collar; he winces. “Tell where my daughter is, asshole!” Pain ripples over her torso.

 He looks like an ant beneath a microscope, squirming beneath the intense heat of her eyes. “They took her, ma’am,” he confesses, and her grip on his scrubs loosens. “The police went after them, but it’d been too long. They were already gone by the time the neighbors called 911.”

 They took her. They took her. They took her. Maggie’s brain won’t function. “But how—” She chokes on her words. “No, no, no…” She grabs at her hair, and pained dread pangs in her neck, leaking down into her heart. “No, God, no…” Nightmarish thoughts peel at her head and spear behind her eyes, and anguished nausea swirls in her stomach. She wraps her arms around her belly, clawing at the bandages there.

 “Mrs. Paxton, the police are doing everything they can. They’ve already sent out an Amber Alert, and they’ve alerted all the nearby hospitals to any children matching your daughter’s description.” He looks uncomfortable, even guilty, and he backs away from her hospital bed. “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Paxton. So, so sorry.”

 Maggie can barely hear him leave; her daughter, her baby, her Cassie… Horror wracks her mind, darkness pries at her mind—her seven-year-old, her baby girl, scared and hurt and crying for her—and she presses a shaking hand to her distressed mouth, trying to keep all her horrified thoughts pinned inside of her.

 There’s nothing worse than this, the absence of Cassie at her side, knowing that gruesome, unspeakable things could be happening to her at any moment; Maggie cries into her hands, sobbing. Cassie…

 The doctor comes about an hour later to trade places with the nurse; she’s antsy, constantly shifting from foot to foot as she speaks, like the elephant in the room of Cassie’s kidnapping can just be ignored. After several choked-out apologies, she explains most of the medical implications of the attack in an apologetic stammer, telling her has several broken ribs, a gunshot wound to the forearm—“Just a graze, ma’am, you got lucky,” she says—and a minor concussion. “We stitched up that cut in your forehead,” the doctor says carefully. “But you have take it easy for now.” Maggie wraps her arms around herself. “We’ll keep you overnight for observation, but after that we’ll give you medicine to take home…”

 Everything after that is blurry, shadowed by the knowledge that Cassie has been kidnapped. She visits Jim’s hospital room; he wakes up a couple hours after her, but he doesn’t remember anything before the night prior. “What’s wrong?” Jim asks. He’s still got that hopeful look in his eyes. “Why do you look so…”

 Maggie knows the word he is trying not to say. Devastated. Like her entire world has been ripped away from her fingertips. “She’s gone,” she croaks. “They took Cassie.”

  APRIL 6 — 8:29 PM

 The doorbell rings for a second time, and finally Julia, sprawled across the couch next to Cristian, lets out annoyed groan.

 “Not it,” her husband chirps.

 “Honey, you can’t do ‘not it’ with two people! It doesn’t work!”

 He shrugs and snuggles deeper into the couch. “Nose goes,” he says, tapping his nose.

 “Same rules, Cristian!”

 He only laughs, so finally Julia relents. “Lazy ass,” she complains, swatting his thigh as she gets up. “You’re getting up next time.”

 She heads to the door; the occasional ringing has now evolved into frantic banging. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” she calls out, mildly irritated. It’s probably one of their neighbors asking about a lost pet. That kid next door can never keep track of his toy poodle. She peers through the peephole first.

 Instead of a mailman or a neighbor, she finds a tall, black teen, probably eighteen or nineteen. She knows him well—as a police officer, she has frequent run-ins with this one: Ty. He isn’t dangerous, just a drug addict like her brother. He looks odd—not sober, just odd—like he’s about to vomit all over her front porch. She cracks the door open. “If you’re gonna puke,” she warns him, “do it in the grass.”

 He shakes his head. “No—I gotta—I’m not sick—I gotta tell you somethin’, miss, somethin’ important—real important, miss—” He rubs his already messy dreads into a chaotic pile. “Can I—can I come in?”

 Briefly, Julia thinks of her children. Ty isn’t dangerous, she reminds herself, and she’ll be with him the whole time. After they instruct the kids to stay in the basement while they talk, they sit Ty down at the kitchen table—Cristian and Julia on one side, Ty on the other. He’s nervous, but assures then repeatedly that he’s unarmed. “I don’t wanna hurt nobody,” he says, “promise, miss.”

 She wants to say something to him, something like “I know” or “It’s okay” to calm his anxious nerves, but she can’t do it. He is too young, too unstable, too terrified, and it puts her on edge, like someone’s father will come sprawling in at any moment drenched in drunken rage.

 “They’re gone,” he says finally, after a century of painful silence. “Charlie, RJ, everybody.”

 Julia and Cristian share a concerned glance. “What?”

 He explains what happened in shaky sentences; Charlie, Julia’s brother, had been Ty’s dealer for the past few months. “None of the hard shit,” he promises her. Charlie and Ty met once or twice a week, and Ty often hung around Charlie’s crew—a group of drug addicts who were so far gone that Ty’d never once met them lucid, let alone sober. They were always on something, whether it was coke, dope, speed, or dust. “An’ I know they didn’ always do good, but they was good, promise. They kept talkin’ about how they was gonna change the world, make it a better place…” He trails off. He tells Julia that a couple of weeks ago, Charlie had missed their weekly meetup without any warning. Originally, he dismissed it as Charlie being too high to deal that day, but when he tried to get into contact with some of Charlie’s guys to see if they would deal to him, they were gone, too. He checked with everyone in Charlie’s tight circle of drug addicts; they’d all vanished. “Last time I saw them, their place was some abandoned, creepy-ass dungeon or some shit, fuckin’ snakes on the walls…” But when he tried to find them, he explains, the place was empty. They were gone.

 Finally, Ty sighs. “I didn’ know where to go, miss. I can’t trust none of those cops but you. Anybody else woulda put me in jail, and I can’t go back there. I’m just scared ‘cause these are my people, you know? And they ain’t done nothing wrong, but I think somethin’ happened to ‘em.” He stares emptily at Julia. “Somethin’ bad.”

  APRIL 6 — 9:05 PM

 Cassie is cold. So, so cold. She’s never been hurt like this before. Not when she tripped in soccer and sprained her ankle, not when Jim accidentally hit her in the face with a softball, and not even when her grandma died a year ago. At least then, she had Daddy or Mommy or Jim with her.

 Now, it’s just Cassie. Cassie, the toilet, and the weird scratches in the walls. It’s a tiny room with gray walls, gray floor, and a gray ceiling. There’s a toilet and a sink in the corner, but nothing else. No bed, no chair, no table. The door is gray, too, reinforced with metal bolts, and only a slit, almost a rectangular hole, in the center of the door signifies that there’s any outside at all. She’s all alone, in this tiny room, and there’s blood all over her arm and she’s scared. She doesn’t want to remember that the Red-Hair Lady grabbed Mommy and smashed her head against the wall. She doesn’t want to remember that Red-Hair Lady took her knife and cut her arms open. She doesn’t want to remember any of this.

 But when it’s just Cassie, all alone, all she has is her thoughts, and she can’t help but remember how much it hurt.

 She whimpers and draws her knees to her chest, pulling at the sticky, bloodstained sleeves of her hoodie. She doesn’t like this. She wants Mommy and Daddy and Jim… She wants Jim to hug her and cook her some ramen. She wants Mommy to rock her and read her a bedtime story. She wants Daddy to sing her favorite song…

 Daddy. She remembers seeing his face before Red-Hair Lady took her away, before the hurt— She squeezes her eyes shut. She remembers that he was tied to a chair, that he was scared and he looked like he was hurting a lot. And when he saw Cassie, it was like his whole world had fallen apart. She’s never seen him like that before, and now she’s more scared than ever before. She starts to cry, sobbing into her knees; she wants Daddy, she wants Daddy, she wants Daddy!

 Red-Hair Lady and Big-Man locked her in here. When she cried and begged for them to let her go, Red-Hair Lady grabbed her by the throat and threatened to cut her tongue out unless she shut up. Cassie reaches into her mouth and touches her tongue, just to reassure herself that it’s still there. She can still remember Red-Hair Lady and the terrifying fury of her words.

 She knows Daddy will come for her. He has to. He always promised that he’d keep her safe, no matter what happened. She believes in him. Maybe he can turn into Ant-Man and slip free! Then he can come save her. She nods to herself. Yes, Daddy will come save her. He is brave and strong, and whenever she’s in trouble, he is there—

 A loud beep and then the locked door before her clicks open. Cassie perks up, her sob caught in her throat. “Daddy?”

 A snort of laughter is her reply. “Don’t you wish, cutie.”

 Cassie shakes in her fear. It’s the Red-Hair Lady and Big-Man, and they look mad. “No, n-n-no! I d-do-don’t wanna go, p-please!” She is crying again, so hard that she can’t control it. “I wanna go home!”

 Red-Hair Lady leans down to meet her face-to-face. “You’re not going home for a long time, cutie. So get used to it.”

 Cassie cries harder—“I wanna go ho-home!”—and Red-Hair Lady slaps her.

 She’s never been slapped before, and it’s startling, a violation of everything she’s ever known. She can still feel Red-Hair Lady’s hand on her cheek, a ghost of the blow. “Shut up,” snaps the woman. “Don’t be a fucking baby.” As Big-Man grabs her by the waist and slings her under his arm, kicking and wailing, Red-Hair Lady storms out of the room. “Charlie!” she shouts. “Lang’s taking too fucking long!”

 Cassie can hear broken protests from the far end of the hallway. Once, she thinks she can hear her name among the desperate words.

 The tall, bearded man is now talking feverishly to Red-Hair Lady. “He says he’s going as fast as he can, Renee. Mason, put the kid down.”

 Big-Man shifts nervously, glancing at Red-Hair Lady. “As fast as he can?” Red-Hair Lady scowls. “Bullshit! At this rate, it’ll be days before he’s done. We need this, and we need it now. Lang just needs a little motivation, that’s all. Something to get those fucking fingers moving.”

 The other man hesitates. “Fine,” he says. “As long as Lang does his job.”

 Renee smirks. “I’ll make sure he does.”

 Cassie’s not stupid; she knows that they’re talking about Daddy. “I want Daddy!” she wails. She knows he’s here, somewhere, and the combination of the cuts on her arms, the swelling in her face, and the Red-Hair Lady’s presence has made her frantic and desperate. “Please, please, I’ll be—”

 When Red-Hair Lady whirls around this time, Cassie stops abruptly, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to squirm away from the oncoming blow. But she’s still not prepared enough. Red-Hair Lady’s palm hits her in the face, and pain sparks behind her eyes. “What’d I tell you?” She yanks Cassie from Big-Man’s arms, sending her sprawling on the ground. “Hey! Look at me!”

 Cassie doesn’t want to look at her, she doesn’t want to look, she doesn’t want to—

 Another slap, this time on the other side of her face. “Look at me!”

 Cassie pries her terrified eyes open, every bone in her body vibrating in alarm.

 “You don’t talk unless I say so, got it?” Her red hair swishes as she talks. “Got it?” Her voice is dangerous now, like quicksand, and Cassie nods furiously. “Good.”

 She drags Cassie to the bad room, the bad room—not the bad room, no, no—and straps her to the table—the bad table, the bad table, not the bad table, she doesn’t want to hurt again—

 There’s fingers at her arm, yanking up her sleeve, wiping the crease of her inner arm with something cold. Cassie is cold, so cold, and she shuts her eyes, crying silently and hiccuping. “Don’t move,” instructs Red-Hair Lady, and then there’s a prick in her arm.

 “Ow!” Suddenly, there’s what feels like fire spreading over her skin, lighting her up and tearing her apart.

 Cassie can hear something, something high-pitched and horrible and bad—she wants the bad to stop, it hurts so much, but it’s all she can feel and it’s swallowing her up—

 Her throat is raw—she’s screaming, screaming, screaming for anyone, anything to help her.

 But no one comes.

  APRIL 6 — 10:11 PM

 “Holy shit, Chlo, pull over!”

 Chloe Tanner jerks his head to the right, where her boyfriend, John, is pointing. “What?” Then she sees it: a car upside down, a mess of crumpled metal and red-spattered earth. “Oh, shit!” She yanks her car to the right, parking abruptly a few hundred feet away from the crash. There’s no police cars near it, or any people standing beside the car. What the hell happened here? Someone has to do something. What if there’s someone in there? John and Chloe rush out of the car. Shattered glass crunches beneath Chloe’s sneakers as she and John approach the vehicle. “Hello?” John announces, and Chloe runs to the front door.

 There’s a dark-haired woman inside, blood spreading across the front of her lavender blouse, hung upside down by her seatbelt. Her face is startlingly flushed, probably from all the blood settling in her head, and her head dangles limply as Chloe opens the car door. “Shit, shit! John, call 911!”

 John slams his fingers into his phone, almost frantic. “Um—he-hello? There’s a car crash here—a lady’s i-in the front…” He steps over the scattered glass to stare at the woman.

 As he talks to the 911 operator, Chloe presses her fingers to the woman’s neck. A faint, fluttering pulse meets her fingers, but that’s all she needs. “She’s still alive!” she shouts. “What do we do?”

 John puts the phone on speaker and describes the physical state of the woman, stuttering out that she is upside down and he doesn’t know if they should move her. “Don’t move her,” instructs the operator. “Find the source of the bleeding, if you can, and put pressure on it until we can get to you. It should only be a few minutes. Keep checking her breathing and her heart rate, okay? If it stops, I’ll need you to perform CPR on her. Do you know how?”

 Already pressing her scarf to the woman’s slashed thigh, Chloe stammers, “Ye-yeah, I know how.”

 Those few minutes seem like hours as Chloe keeps pressure on the gashes and John checks her heartbeat. Finally, the ambulance arrives and four paramedics in matching uniform pour out, walking firmly towards them with a stretcher and medical supplies. “We’ll take it from here,” says one, just as they reach the woman.

 Chloe reaches for John’s hand and grips it tightly, backing away from her. They ride with her to the hospital, where the police interrogate them about what happened, but neither of them know enough to further the investigation. “We didn’t see anything,” Chloe assures the first officer, a woman with a blonde ponytail named Officer Bone. “Just found her, that’s all. I think it’d already been here a while by the time we got here.”

 Officer Bone nods, scribbling something down. “Well, we’re really grateful you found her. If you hadn’t, she could just as easily be dead.”

 Chloe gulps. If she hadn’t pulled over the car… If they hadn’t done anything… If John had been asleep… This horrible realization washes over her: this woman could have died. “Is she… Is she gonna be okay?”

 Bone glances wearily behind her. “Her head looked pretty banged up, so I can’t tell you for sure…” She removes her hat. “But I have your contact information. I’ll keep you updated on her condition.” She sighs. “Are you sure you couldn’t find anything about her identity?”

 Both John and Chloe answer with a simple “no.” The paramedics gave all the woman’s belongings to the police, and they didn’t find a wallet or a phone on her; there were no frantic police calls on missing middle-aged women, either.

 Bone clears her throat. “Well, until we find something, she’s a Jane Doe until she wakes up or someone comes for her.”

 As Officer Bone leaves to talk to the other policemen, Chloe slumps into one of the waiting room chairs. She hopes that this woman, whoever she is, will be okay.

  APRIL 6 — 11:21 PM

 They spent the past few hours chatting with semi-drunk socialites and businessmen; Tony dazzled them with half-hearted tales of Iron Man’s adventures while Pepper approached the hosts with financial propositions.

 Pepper looks sleek tonight, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back into an elegant bun, and her cocktail dress is a rich, deep purple that matches the color of Tony’s suit. Tony, to say the least, matches his elegant partner, a silk tie loose around his neck. Pepper has always been the more formal one, rarely able to tell a story about herself to someone she didn’t know well. From where he currently stands, Tony can hear her laugh as she chats about Tony and his bad habit of showing up late to everything. “I’ve started marking everything in his calendar an hour before they actually start, just so he’ll be on time!”

 Tony grazes his hand along her waist, alerting her to his presence just as he appears beside her. He can hear the exhaustion in her voice. “Sorry, ladies,” he says, nodding to the other three women, “but I’ll just be borrowing Ms. Potts for a moment.”

 As soon as they are out of hearing range of the other guests, Pepper sighs. “Thank God,” she says. “I don’t think I could’ve done that for much longer.” She kisses his cheek.

 “What, are they boring you?”

 She wrinkles her nose. “No, I’m just tired of socializing, at least for today.” That, at the very least, Tony can understand. Pepper had spent almost the entire day in meetings and making calls to various companies. Her eyes light up with something mischievous. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

 Tony stares at her in mock shock, taking on the richest accent he can muster. “Leave the gala? Oh, the scandal, my dear!”

 Pepper stifles a giggle. “God, Tony, your British accent is the worst.”

 He pouts as she hooks her arm around his and leads them towards the exit. “I thought it was awesome!”

 “Awesomely terrible,” she reminds him. “Any British person within a ten-mile radius would be offended, I’m sure. And stop saying 'awesome.' You've been spending way too much time with Peter.”

 Tony grins. “Pepper, my love, you wound me.”

 She rolls her eyes, opening the door for him. “Come on, Shakespeare, let’s go find some pizza.”

 This time, it’s Tony’s turn to break into a smile. “Pizza!”

  APRIL 6 — 11:33 PM

 When Ty finally leaves, Julia goes upstairs with Cristian. The kids are already fast asleep, but they kiss each of them good night before heading back to their room. After Julia changes into some pajamas and gets into bed, Cristian climbs in beside her. “Piensas que nos dijo la verdad?” he asked softly. Do you think he told us the truth?

 Julia nods. She’s lying on her side, facing him. “Ty may be an addict,” she replies, “but he’s not a bad kid. He wouldn’t lie about something like this, and, I mean, just look at him. He could barely talk, he was so…” She doesn’t know how to explain it, but she knows that look in his eyes well. Terrified. Distressed. Helpless. “...scared. You can’t fake that.”

 Cristian pulls her closer to him, and he presses his face into her hair. “What are you gonna do, Julia?”

 “It’s gonna be hard,” she confesses, “but I’ve gotta report it. I’ll leave him out of it—I don’t want him going back to prison—but there’s no way I can’t report this.” The people Ty cares for so much are drug addicts and ex-cons; the New York Police Department cares little for them. She’ll have to use her strong reputation as a high-ranking officer to advocate for Ty and his missing friends. And her missing brother. Charlie, she thinks immediately, and now she feels desperation clench around her heart. “I have to—I have to find my brother.” She tries not to think of all the horrible things that could have happened to him, but her mind barrels forward. “He’s my baby brother, I can’t—” Her voice cracks.

 Cristian slides his arm around her waist and shushes her. “I know, I know. You’ll find him, I know you will.”

 Julia prays to God that she will, too.

  APRIL 6 — 11:46 PM

 Happy drives them to Pepper’s favorite pizza place, one that sells Chicago-style deep dish. It’s hard to forget that Pepper was a Chicagoan (honestly, she still is), for Chicago always seems to seep into her daily life, whether it be her odd taste in pizza, her obsession with the Chicago Cubs, or her uncanny ability to survive any cold weather without blinking.

 And because Pepper craves deep dish pizza on a weekly basis, they’ve become intimately familiar with one pizza place in particular, one called Lou Malnati’s, but they are not familiar with the teenage girl at the register, who gapes unashamedly at them as they enter the building.

 “Hey, order for pickup?” announces Pepper, smiling expectantly, “For Potts?”

 The girl doesn’t move, simply staring, starstruck, at them. “Uh…”

 Tony sighs. He doesn’t need another fangirl right now, not at eleven at night when all he wants is a dumb pizza. “Look, kid, can we just get the pizza?”

 The employee next to her, one who has seen them countless times before and has grown used to their presence, announces, “Of course, Mr. Stark, right away, sir!” The employee slips into the back as the other girl stands with her mouth open.

 But as he watches the girl’s face break into a blushing smile, he realizes she isn’t even looking at him. She's looking at Pepper. “M-Ms. Potts,” she stammers, her voice so high it’s almost a squeal, “I-I’m a huge fan of yours; I’ve loved you since I was little when I read that article about how you…” The girl is full-on rambling, spilling every fact she knows about Pepper, and Tony watches his fiancée’s smile grow wider with every word. Iron Man fans are like pebbles, commonplace, but Pepper Potts fans are something else entirely. “...and as the only female CEO in—and, I mean, of the most powerful company in New York? You’re amazing! An inspiration! I can’t believe you’re standing here, wow—” The girl adjusts her hijab anxiously, tugging at the edges. Her nametag reads AYOMI. “It's such a pleasure to—um—to see you—um, um—could I—do you think I could—um, maybe—”

 Pepper, being the wonderfully empathetic woman that she is, reaches across the counter and places a calming hand on Ayomi’s starstruck shoulder. “A picture? Of course!”

 Tony thinks the girl is going to faint, right then and there. Instead, however, Ayomi’s eyes brighten and she nearly trips over herself getting to the other side of the counter, just as the other employee returns with their pizza. “Thank you, thank you!” she gasps.

 Tony almost bursts out laughing at the expression on Pepper’s face. Pepper Potts can stare down a roomful of angry reporters, counter death threats, and command all of Stark Industries, but in the end, she is just as nervous as the fan herself. The negative attention she receives as CEO of Stark Industries is miles away from this glowing praise she is receiving from the young woman standing in front of her.

 Ayomi clears her throat. “Um, Mr. Stark, do you think you could…” She holds her phone out to him, already in the camera app.

 Tony is, in a word, bewildered. He hasn’t been asked to take someone else’s picture since...well, ever. But nonetheless, he takes the phone and snaps a dozen photos of Pepper and Ayomi. He knows Pepper is beyond ecstatic to have this kind of attention, and that over-the-moon feeling is washing over him, now, too.

 God, he loves this woman.

 After finally getting the pizza and giving about four goodbye hugs to Ayomi, they head back to Stark Tower. By that time, they are starving, so they devour the pizza in the car.

 “Watch the seats, watch the seats!” complains Happy. “I just got those cleaned.”

 Pepper and Tony share a knowing look with each other, glancing down guiltily at the pizza sauce smeared on the seat between them. “Oh, yeah, definitely!” Pepper declares, as Tony tries to clean up the mess they’d made. “Seats are fine, Happy; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

 Happy gives a Scroogelike grunt, muttering under his breath. “Yeah, yeah.”

 By the time they are back inside, kicking their shoes off, it’s midnight, and they slump in the bed together, Pepper literally groaning with delight. “I wanna go to sleep,” she mumbles into the pillow, “and never wake up again.”

 Tony laughs. “Come here, baby, I’ll take your hair down. You don’t want to go to sleep like that.”

 He gets a muffled moan in response.

 Tony scoots up the bed on his knees. “Come on, Sleepy, turn over.” She flops onto her back, groaning in protest. He lifts her head into his lap so he can remove the bobby pins, one by one. “Wanna watch a movie?”

 “Yeah,” she mumbles. “Something without people.”

 “What, a nature documentary?” He plucks another pin out and tosses it on the nightstand.

 Her eyes are still closed. “No… A cartoon. Something with little animals…”

 Tony smirks. “A Disney movie? I’ve got just the thing.”

 Before long, Finding Nemo is playing on the screen, and they’ve stripped out of their restricting gala outfits and into T-shirts, curled beneath the covers.

 The best thing about their relationship is that it’s entirely beyond the physical, nothing like Tony’s previous relationships. Before Pepper, his dating pool had been entirely based on physical beauty and social status, even attainability, but not mutual compatibility. Obviously he’s attracted to Pepper, but it goes so far beyond that. With Pepper, he’s more himself then he’s ever been. He can watch dumb Disney movies with her, he can eat pizza at midnight with her, he can cry in front of her… He doesn’t need to impress her, and she doesn’t need to impress him. They know each other too well.

 “He’s kinda like you,” Pepper mutters, yawning.

 Tony snaps back to the present. “What? Who?”

 Pepper looks so beautiful now, the ends of her mouth twitching into an amused smile. “The dad fish… What’s his name again? Merlin? Marlin?” She yawns again. “He loves his damn kid so much…”

 Tony combs his fingers through her hair. “Pep, we don’t have a kid. That doesn’t—”

 “Peter,” she interrupts, “is Nemo. Does something dumb, the world implodes on him, and eventually you’re there to save him.”

 “Well, I don’t think—”

 “Last month,” she continues, her eyes still closed, “you took him to see Hamilton with us.”

 Tony snorts. “He’d been listening to the soundtrack nonstop! What was I supposed to do?”

 “In March,” she says, ignoring him, “when he got shot in that robbery, you made him stay in the Medbay for the whole day, and you didn’t let him patrol for a week, even though it’d fully healed by the second day.”

 “His body was still recovering!” Tony protests. “And—”

 “Once a month, you take him to your favorite sandwich place.” She is sitting up now, blinking groggily at him.

 “What’s so bad about that?”

 Pepper rubs her eyes. “You only ever take me there, dumbass. Or Rhodey. You’ve never even mentioned it to Happy or anyone else.”

 Tony’s face flushes pink. “Well, I mean, it’s personal, knowing that, and, uh—”

 And still Pepper rattles on. “You let him pick the music in the car, you brought his lunch to school when he forgot it, you left an important meeting so you could go to his decathlon meet, you went out for ice cream with him when he had a fight with his friend, you always ask how he is, you’re always checking with his AI to make sure he’s okay, you—”

 “Okay, okay!” Tony huffs. “You’re right, fine. It’s just like… If I had a kid, I’d want him to be like Pete, you know?” He sinks his face with the nearest pillow, groaning.

 Pepper laughs beside him; what a privilege, he thinks suddenly, it is to hear Pepper Potts laugh. “Baby, Peter’s already your kid. You’re just too thick headed to see it. He’s here at least twice a week, Tony.”

 Tony mumbles a fragmented response into the pillow. Pepper snakes an arm around his side, “C’mere,” she says, pulling him closer. “I’m cold.”

 Tony welcomes her presence at his side; she snuggles into him, pressing her cold toes against his bare calf— “God, fuck, Pepper, your feet are like ice! Keep those things to yourself, Elsa!”

 Drowsy, she giggles a little, clasping onto him tighter. He follows her freckled arm around his torso to hold her hand, and he turns onto his side so that her chest is pressed against his back. This is how they usually cuddle: Tony, the little spoon, and Pepper, the big spoon.

 Pepper falls asleep first, snoring lightly against his chest. Their legs are intertwined, and Tony’s sure he’ll wake up with his feet asleep if he stays like this, so he gently shifts, untangling their limbs. In the background, Finding Nemo plays, and he mutes it with a quiet order to FRIDAY. As he watches, Marlin tries to convince the leader of a school of moonfish to tell him how to get to his son.

 If I lost Peter, Tony thinks, I’d be a lot better at finding him than this dumb fish. Satisfied, he turns the television off and burrows beneath the covers, watching Pepper’s chest rise and fall in a deep sleep. What did he do to deserve a woman as amazing as her? He smiles to himself, closing his eyes. What did he do to deserve a kid as great as Peter?

 Before long, he is snoring, too, slipping into the peaceful realm of sleep with his fiancée at his side.

    APRIL 7 — 2:09 AM

 Scott’s wrists spike with pain, and he pauses to rub them, the action made awkward by the handcuffs locked around them. He’s not in the Chair anymore—he’s in a hard chair before a metal table, set with a laptop and other computer supplies. He’s got more freedom now, at least; his arms and legs are cuffed, but they aren’t attached to the chair so that he has enough freedom to work. It’s odd to him that the crushing pain of his mutilated legs has faded with the mission before him, fueled by his mind, the computer, and his throbbing hands. Well, they gave him a little painkiller a few hours ago, too, solely because he was too delirious with pain to work, so that helps. And they added some adrenaline to the mix, so Scott is wide awake. Charlie or American Psycho or whoever was right: the only thing Scott needs is his head and his hands.

 Three times since he first arrived here, he has heard his little girl scream. It’s not anything like the false screeches in horror movies or Cassie’s usual happy squeals. It’s the sound of pain, horrific agony coursing through the air, and it’s so violent and terrible and sickening that when Scott hears it he can barely breathe.

 The worst part about it is that he can’t see her, but he knows that’s her voice. He knows better than almost anyone on the planet what Cassie sounds like, even if it’s just a whimper or a sob. That’s his daughter. He can’t touch her, can’t hold her, can’t tell her a joke, can’t sing her a lullaby… It’s agonizing. Forget his legs—it’s like an entire chunk of his heart has been torn from his chest.

 Scott knows there’s only one way to get Cassie out of here: doing what he’s told. Even if it means breaking dozens of laws and putting others in danger, he’ll do anything if it means that they’ll stop hurting Cassie. He never used to understand the blind, ultra-sacrificial love that parents held for their children when he was younger, but after he learned that Maggie was pregnant, he knew. He knew that he would do anything to protect his child.

 Just knowing that Cassie is in pain now is putting his heart through a meat grinder; he types faster, clicking and hacking and typing until his fingers are a blur at the keyboard.

 At the sound of the door at the end of the hallway, Scott jumps; he can’t help it. Last time that door opened, that sick fuck, Renee, came through with his little girl. This time, he listens hard, typing faster than ever. If he shows any sign of slacking, they’ll make Cassie scream again. And he’ll do anything in the world to not hear that sound ever again.

 It’s not Renee, Charlie, or Mason—his three main captors are busy getting high on the other side of the place—warehouse? Base? Building? Lair? He realizes quite suddenly that he has no idea where he is. He could be in a cave, for all he knows. There’s no windows, not that he can see, and the cold air seeping through the vents does nothing but tell him that they’ve got air conditioning.

 There’s an almost eerie silence following the opening of the door, and then a thump, the all-too-familiar sound of a body hitting the ground, and fear prickles down Scott’s back. What if they caught another one of his loved ones: Maggie, Hope, Hank, or even Jim? The fear that overcomes him in that moment drains him of his energy. He’s barely clinging on to his composure as it is, but this… Then, vaguely, he remembers the first thing he was asked to do: hack into Tony Stark’s computer system and locate what Stark designated as “SKM7.” Scott discovered several hours ago that SKM7 was a moving target, which he found to be strange, but he figured it was a vehicle or Stark-created piece of technology. There’d been nothing in the files he’d hacked about SKM7 stating that it could be a person.

 As the door to the room swings open and two of Charlie’s black-clothed guys drag a limp form between them, Scott understands with violent precision: SKM7 is a person. By the look of him, a young person. “No, no, no,” Scott croaks, panic splitting him. “No, no…”

 Then there’s Charlie, leaning on the doorframe like he’s just won the Olympics, and high as a fucking kite. He grins at Scott, and poorly masked aggression pours over his body. “Put him in the chair,” Charlie announced, his words a little slurred. “Now.”

 As they lock him into the Chair, the one he was in only hours earlier, Scott’s horror augments. SKM7 is a pale teen with brown hair; his head is completely slack, as the men strap him in, and his eyes are closed. One of the men pushes his head back and checks his eyes for any sign of consciousness. Nothing. It’s unnerving how limp he is, like a rag doll. He’s a wiry kid, a little muscle on bones, and he’s got a wide face peppered with bruises. He’s wearing a Star Wars hoodie, a bright blue one with “Trust me, I’m a Jedi” printed across the front, but the sleeves, as well as his hands, are spattered with blood. Probably fourteen or fifteen, this kid… His youth is obvious in everything about him: his neon green shoes, his sweatshirt, his oddly colored jeans, his hair… He’s even got a math formula scribbled across the back of his hand. And the fact that he’s unconscious, bloodied, and locked to the Chair by his wrists, ankles, and torso makes everything worse. “He’s…” Scott gasps, and Charlie’s smile only widens. “He’s just a kid. You made me track down a… a… teenager? So you could kidnap him, too?”

 Charlie shrugs. As he stalks towards Scott, every step threatening, Scott feels every hair on his body stand on end; his body screams, Danger! Danger! Get out! “Thanks, Lang,” Charlie says, ignoring the fact that there’s an unconscious fifteen-year-old behind them. “You did great.” He raises his hand—no, no, fuck, no, he can’t take any more, he’ll break—and claps Scott heartily on the shoulder. “I should give you a raise.” He chuckles to himself.

 Scott’s blood boils, and he tries to swallow the fury rising in his throat, but he can’t— “So kidnapping a seven-year-old wasn’t good enough for you? You had to get a fifteen-year-old, too? What the hell?”

 “He’s sixteen,” Charlie snaps; his expression before was tight, like he trapped all his anger inside of his mouth, but now it’s exploded all over his face. “And this was all necessary, you dumb fuck. I don’t go around kidnapping kids for fun.”

 “Could’ve fooled me,” Scott growls, and Charlie hits him so hard that he sees stars.

 “Don’t forget” —Charlie’s face glistens with sweat, and his eyes narrow— “that’s your pretty little seven-year-old I’ve got here. Next time you talk to me like that, I’ll take off one of her fingers, how’d you like that?”

 Scott’s eyes widen, and his mouth bubbles up with blood and frantic pleas; Charlie backs away from him, muttering in disgust. “P-please, d-d-don’t—”

 “You’ve got a new job, Lang,” interrupts Charlie, moving to stand beside Renee. He curls an arm around her shoulders, and she smirks. “If you do it right, your brat will be just fine.” Charlie smiles with his teeth this time, and Scott can see the drugged high leak into his too-wide grin. “With your help, we’re gonna change the world.”

  APRIL 7 — 2:46 AM

 The door opens with a bang that seems to shake the room, and Tony jumps to his feet. Instinctually, he grabs his watch, slamming his fingers to the activation button that transforms it from a wristwatch to an Iron Man Gauntlet, raising his arm to—

 “Peter?” says Pepper. She’s standing, too, but her hands are held out in comfort instead of aggression, her eyes trained on the figure who has now entered the room.

 It’s Peter, there’s no denying. He’s drenched from head to toe; his brown hair is plastered against his forehead and his red hoodie is now a wet shade of scarlet. His jeans cling to his skinny legs. There’s a blend of blood and water on his forehead, and he’s shaking, trembling like a wet leaf, his chest heaving.

 Immediately, Tony transforms his gauntlet back into a watch and approaches the kid carefully. He’s never seen Peter like this before—terrified, panicking, anxious—and it chills him to the bone. He’s shivering now, breathing hard, but the air whistles through his throat in a dry whine. “Kid?” he calls out, taking a careful step forward. Peter’s hands are on his head now, fisting tightly in his dark hair as though he’s about to tear it from the roots. His eyes are blown with panic, darting around, and he won’t focus on Tony. “Kid, look at me.” Tony locks eyes with Pepper; her expression betrays the concern and fear that he feels. “Peter.” Nothing. He tries again. “Pete, kiddo, it’s me. What happened?”

 Pepper moves forward, reaching out towards the kid, and alarm bells crash through Tony’s head. “Don’t,” Tony snaps, startling even himself with his bluntness, and Pepper immediately stops. Tony knows better than anyone what being mentally absent means for someone with superpowers; he doesn’t need another Bucky Barnes on his hands.

 After Peter’s arms finally drop, and his gaze lifts to Tony’s, the whole world seems to stop. “M-Mr. Stark?”

 Tony’s shoulders slump in relief, and he takes another step towards Peter, still cautious. “Yeah, it’s me. You okay, kiddo?”

 Peter presses his palm against his forehead, looking a little shocked when it comes back bloody. “Yeah, I just…”

 Tony has never felt this worried before; anxiety cuts through him, hot and sharp. What happened to his kid? “Are you okay?” A million questions collide in his mind. Who did this to you? What could scare you like this?

 But he chokes them all down as Peter stammers, staring at the newfound blood stemming from his head. “I’m bleeding…”

 Fuck, this can’t be good. Something is wrong, gut-wrenchingly so, and Tony knows it. Peter can barely recognize the pain he is in, let alone the fact that he is bleeding, soaking wet, and standing in the middle of Tony’s kitchen. “Let’s sit down, okay, kiddo?” By the time Peter blinks in confused recognition, Tony has moved all the way to the kid, scanning him for further injury and guiding him to the kitchen table by placing a hand on his back—

 Peter jerks away from him so violently that even Pepper startles, and the kid transforms from mentally absent to a terrified mess, his body vibrating in fear. But instead of attacking with his webshooters or hyper-reflexes like Tony expected, he curls in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. What the hell? This is not the result of combat trauma or too much time in the field. This… This is something deeper, darker, sourced in something more sinister than Tony originally thought. “Okay, okay,” says Tony, thinking fuck, fuck, what the hell is happening— “You’re okay, Pete, you’re just fine; no touching, okay? I got it, I won’t touch you, you’re safe...”

 He continues talking, coaxing Peter into at least a sliver of safety, until finally Peter opens his eyes again, gasping, “So-sorry, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry…” He looks pale, too pale, and it’s now that Tony realizes his lips are blue. Fucking blue.

 Tony’s heart twists violently. “You’re okay, kid, there’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” Tony’s left arm is throbbing now, that dull ache that always resounds when his anxiety spikes, and he tries to control the flutter of panic in his chest. “J-just come over here, okay? We’ll sit by the fire, you can warm up a little—you’re looking a little cold, Pete.”

 Peter wraps his arm around himself as if suddenly noticing the fact that his teeth are chattering; glancing nervously at Tony, he nods slowly, following the man to the fireplace at the other end of the room. “FRIDAY,” says Tony, trying to stay calm for the sake of the kid, “turn up the heat, please.”

 Thankfully, FRIDAY remains silent in her obedience, avoiding possibly startling the kid. Tony turns around to share a worried look with Pepper, then faces the kid again. Peter’s relaxing a little in the warmth of the fire, and before he knows it, Pepper’s beside him, holding out a blanket and a fresh change of clothes: Tony’s sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants Peter had left with them weeks ago. “Peter, honey?” she says, her voice gentle. “I brought you some dry clothes, do you want to—”

 “No,” Peter croaks, suddenly tense again. “No.”

 Peter’s clothes are dripping wet, and Tony knows how hypothermia works. He has to get him out of those wet clothes. “Kid?” he says, worry lacing his features. “You wanna take off your hoodie, at least, change into somethi—”

 “No!” This time, Peter’s response is frantic, almost wild, and Tony immediately regrets his suggestion. “No, p-please—”

 Horror flashes through Tony’s head; everything comes to a screeching halt. Please. It’s just one word, but it’s enough for Tony to know that something bad happened to his kid, something that brought Peter to such a point of suffering that he begged for it to stop. Tony wants to help him, to hug him, to hold him and tell him everything’s gonna be okay, but he can’t. Peter won’t let him touch him, and Tony’s not planning on violating his kid’s personal space when he’s scared. Tony’s not Howard; he won’t do that to Peter. Only one question flashes through his mind, burning hot: who hurt Peter? This whole situation is fucking terrifying Tony, and dark thoughts needle at the back of his mind, poking sharply—don’t be stupid, Tony, you know the symptoms, you know what happened to him, why else would he be so scared of taking off his clothes—and Tony’s hands clench into horrified, tense fists. No. Not Peter. No. He refuses to believe that. It’s too horrible to think about.

 The kid shivers, his teeth clacking like typewriter keys.

 Tony doesn’t want to force the kid to do anything, not in this fragile state, but he’s becoming seriously anxious about Peter’s physical health. He has to focus on something he can fix, and right now, Tony can help Peter stay healthy. “FRIDAY,” he orders, as Peter takes the blanket and wraps it around himself with trembling hands, “Peter’s vitals, please.”

 “Peter is currently experiencing a body temperature of 96 degrees, sir,” she responds carefully, “and rising. His heart rate is elevated. Otherwise, vitals are normal. He is in no immediate danger, but his brain waves signal significant distress.”

 Peter doesn’t even look up at the sound of the familiar AI. He just stands by the fire, shivering. Tony feels like there are two spools of thread tightening around his lungs, one tugging him towards Peter to comfort him, the other yanking him away, reminding him of the expression of absolute fear on Peter’s face when Tony touched him earlier. Tony gulps and presses the palm of his hand against his quickening heart. He has to help him. Although FRIDAY told him that Peter’s life isn’t in danger, he can’t keep himself from panicking. Significant distress, he echoes. Significant fucking distress. He’s never been in a situation like this before; Tony knows how to handle aliens, terrorists, and Stark Industries, but not the distraught, trembling, terrified mess of a kid in front of him. His kid, no less.

 At the sound of a muffled whimper, Tony’s head snaps up to find Peter Parker sobbing, snot and tears and all, into his hands, his shoulders quaking. Peter Parker, this fucking invincible kid that he loves so much, crumples like a tin can without warning, collapsing to his knees.

 And Tony can’t do anything about it. He can’t even touch Peter. Instead, he kneels beside the kid, whispering comforting phrases to him, things he would want to hear if he was having a breakdown. “Hey, kiddo, you’re okay, you’ll be okay… You’re safe with me, just breathe, Pete, you’re gonna be fine...”

 If this was a Lifetime movie, Peter would be hugging Tony now, embracing him like a son would do to a father, and he would tell him everything. Then he and Peter would ride off into the sunset, vowing to chase down the bad guy and lock him up for life.

 But this isn’t a movie. This is reality. So instead, Tony watches in anxious helplessness as his kid sobs, curling himself into a tight, lonely ball of shame before him. There is no sarcastic bravado or odd humor left in the boy: only Peter, his soul laid vulnerable before Tony’s eyes—

 —and Tony is gasping, straining for breath, and there’s a hand on his back, rubbing soothingly. “Bad dream, baby?”

 Tony is still grappling with the fact that his heart is racing at a million miles an hour, and it takes him a moment to realize that Pepper is sitting up with him, trying to comfort him.

 And the thing is, it wasn’t a nightmare. That moment had been all too real. Peter had arrived without any warning on a cold, rainy day in March, dangerously quiet and unable to be touched without a violent reaction. Tony’s anxiety had never taken such a drastic turn. In the end, Pepper and Tony discovered, through broken sentences and lost whispers, that a man who Peter had known as a child, was back on the streets of Queens. His name is Skip, Peter had said, his voice deadly quiet, and I never… I didn’t think I’d ever have to see him again. They weren’t able to get anything else out of him, and after that he’d come back the next week like nothing had happened, laughing like he hadn’t been sobbing on the floor of Tony’s kitchen only seven days prior.

 That was, by far, the worst moment of Tony’s parenthood, if he could call it that. Watching his kid suffer like that… Being completely unable to help him was like being set on fire.

 Tony is calmer now, and Pepper’s hand is over his chest, making sure that his heartbeat slows down to normal. “You okay?” she asks, watching his expression carefully.

 Tony’s left arm aches, and he grabs it subconsciously, rubbing his throbbing wrist. He doesn’t bother lying to Pepper; she knows him too well. “I dreamed about Peter,” he explains. If he wasn’t still reeling from the vivid dream, he would have cracked a joke about Finding Nemo and Pepper’s persistent fatherhood quips, but he’s too drained at the moment to do any of that.

 “About what happened in March?” she suggests, giving him a knowing look.

 Tony nods, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead.

 “Do you want to… Do you want to talk about it?”

 “No…” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m just gonna go to the lab, get my mind off of things.” He picks up the clock: 2:57 AM. “Oh, shit, Pepper, I’m sorry for waking you up, I know you have to go at like five, I didn’t mean—”

 “Hey,” she says with a smile, tapping a finger against his chin, “you know what I always say. You can’t be sorry for things you can’t control, Tony. And you can’t control having a bad dream, right?”

 That tightness in his chest loosens at her words, and he takes her hand, bringing it to his lips. He mumbles a “right” against her knuckles.

 After Pepper crawls back into bed, Tony pulls on a sweatshirt, some plaid pants, and a pair of flip-flops before heading downstairs. Since his mansion was destroyed in 2012, he moved into Stark Tower; it became the height of his technological prowess and intellectual ability, but after it was compromised several times (and after returning them only reminded him of the broken pieces of the former Avengers team), he sold the Tower and moved into the new Avengers facility. They’ve constructed it and reconstructed it dozens of times, but finally Tony can call it his home, not just his company property. It’s located in upstate New York, in a stretch of lush land surrounded by trees and water, and there are separate spaces for every use, all connected by winding brick walkways. There’s a massive warehouse for storing equipment (connected to a lab for him to work in), a main building where he and Pepper can do official business, an apartment complex for the Avengers (if, for some reason, they ever got back together), a separate house for him and Pepper, and several other facilities. They’d decided long ago that it was healthier for them to divide Tony’s home life and his work life. He used to spend days in his lab, surviving off of coffee and protein bars to finish projects, but now he almost always sleeps in bed with Pepper unless one of them is gone on a work trip. It’s new, specifically for Tony, to have a home that doesn’t belong to Stark Industries, and it’s life-changing. He spends time with his family now, just watching movies with Rhodey and cooking with Pepper and playing dumb video games that Peter shows him, just because he can.

 Now, he walks from his house to his lab; the grass is damp, tickling the sides of his feet. The moist air is refreshing, and his head is almost cleared in the five-minute walk to the workshop.

 Inside is his refuge: tables upon tables of machine parts, chemical compounds, and computers. He can stay in here for hours at a time, simply tinkering. Tony settles down at one of the worktables, immediately picking up one of his in-progress works: the gunfire sensory system that he and Peter had been creating the night before. He fiddles around with it for a while; giving himself something technological to do usually helps him out of a funk. But even editing the code on Project Kevlar can’t distract him. Not when he’s thinking about Peter.

 He contemplates calling Peter, just to make sure he’s okay, but it’s still three in the morning. Besides, Peter barely sleeps as it is without early morning phone calls from his mentor.

 So instead, he pops an earpiece into his left ear and orders FRIDAY to call Rhodey.

 It takes five calls to reach him. “Tony, it’s three fifteen.” His voice is a low, tired growl.

 Tony relaxes in his chair. “I do have a clock,” he quips, but his voice is shaky. “Just couldn’t sleep, Rhodey.”

 A series of shuffles. “Are you okay?”

 His head throbs. “Just peachy, Mom. Tell me a joke.” Pepper would’ve made him talk about it, to his therapist or to her, but Rhodey always tries to cheer him up instead. It’s the best thing about him; Rhodey knows that Tony’s a fucked up guy, but when they’re together, Tony feels normal.

 Rhodey, detecting that familiar, anxious quiver in his voice, doesn’t question Tony’s request. He starts telling a funny story about a cadet and a dog, and Tony loses himself in it, wanting to think of anything else. Rhodey talks until Tony’s mind is numb, disconnected from his nightmare. “...don’t you think, Tony?”

 Tony laughs weakly. “You know, your jokes really don’t get better with age.”

 “Think so? Bet you couldn’t tell one better.”

 “Rhodey, at least when I tell a story, people don’t start snoring after the first—”

 A wild screech shakes his eardrums, so violent and fucking loud that his whole body goes taut like a bowstring, going painfully rigid in a failed attempt to escape the sound—

 —pain hammers his head, but it’s only a vague afterthought compared to the horrible fucking sound quaking his brain like a speaker on steroids, like an MMA fighter shaking a rag doll—

 —colors flashing above him, pale blue and strawberry blonde; his brain is melting, exploding in sound, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t—

 —it dies to a dull roar, and Tony’s whole body uncoils as he comes back to his senses. His cheek against cold floor, thin fingers prying his hands away from his ears, two overlapping voices calling his name—

 He can still feel the sound there, like his head’s been filled with a thousand rubber hammers, and somehow he manages to uncoil himself and focus on the woman in front of him. Pepper. “Tony! Tony, look at me!” He blinks; a high-pitched whine oscillates in his eardrums, and he sways with the noise as he tries to right himself.

 There’s a sound in his left ear, another voice. “Tony? What’s going on? Can you hear me? Tony!”

 He swallows, for the first time since the noise began, and the action itself feels painful. He blinks (once, twice, three times), and finally he can see Pepper in front of him, trying to meet his wandering gaze. “Fuck” is the first thing he says, through gritted teeth. “My head…” He shifts, trying to sit up.

 “Don’t get up, Tony,” she warns, pushing him back down. “Just take a second.”

 He reaches up and touches his left ear, where the earpiece is still lodged. “Tony?” Rhodey prompts.

 “Yeah…” Tony winces. He can barely hear his own voice. “I’m fine, I’ll call you back.” He clicks the end button on the earpiece and pulls it out, still stunned.

 As he comes back to his senses, Pepper starts to explain, saying that FRIDAY had been compromised and set off a blaring alarm once her systems recognized an intruder. “That thing in your ear,” she says, picking it up, “played the sound a little too loud.”

 Tony nearly laughs out loud. Here he thought that he was going crazy, that he was suffering for all those weapons he’d fired, but it had just been FRIDAY’s odd alarm system. He groans, the ringing in his head now a dull whine. “FRIDAY, what happened? Compromised?”

 His lovely AI responds only with unnerving silence. Pepper helps Tony into a sitting position, examining his ear. “Yeah, Tony,” she states, “FRIDAY hasn’t been responding. Not since the alarm went off.”

 “Then how’d you turn it off?” he asks, confused.

 Pepper shrugs. “You’re the artificial intelligence guru; she just turned off, and she hasn’t said anything since.”

 Usually, Tony would be annoyed that FRIDAY had simply shut down like this, but it’s a well-received distraction from the Peter-heavy thoughts buzzing in his head. “Well, I guess I’ve got a job to do, then.”

 Once Pepper ensures that Tony is okay, save a little hearing loss, she heads out for her next meeting, one with a Chinese computer company in Boston. “I should be back by this evening, okay?” She kisses his forehead. “Take care of yourself,” she reminds him. “I know FRIDAY’s a little messed up, but that doesn’t mean you can just forget to eat, okay? I’ll send Happy to check on you around lunch. And get Cho to check out that ear. Don’t do anything stupid.”

 Tony, back in his spinning lab chair, turns to look at her. “Stupid? Me? Baby, I would never.”

 Pepper smirks at him, but it’s playful, and Tony finds himself still picturing her face even once she’s left the workshop. Despite the fact that it’s almost four in the morning, and there’s a little trickle of blood coming from his ear, he still feels a little safer, just because Pepper is here with him.

  APRIL 7 — 4:19 AM

 Peter’s mouth is a bitter handful of acidic soap, leaking down his throat and churning in his stomach. There’s a horrible pain in his lower abdomen, spreading wide inside of him, and every inch of his skin buzzes with paralysis. His limbs are heavy; his bones must be made of steel now—he can’t move them, he can’t move at all.

 He forces his eyes open, but his eyelids are heavy, too heavy, and he only recognizes flashes of bland color before they shut again. There’s a voice bouncing around him, one he recognizes, male and tired and scared.

 Pain dances through his skull—iron dancers with sharpened heels—and a sound escapes him, something low and guttural. He’s so far from reality that he’s floating, but now he’s sinking back down to Earth. He can feel something cold and bad inside him, and he fights it, shifting and stirring and shaking. He tries to talk, to plead for help, to cry out, but his words tumble out of his mouth like loose marbles, and then the background ramblings of the familiar voice stop, overlapped by newer, sharper voices.

 “He’s…”

 Peter’s hair tugged to pull his head back. Hands on his face.

 “Watch…”

 Exhaustion washing over him. Cold fingers prying at his eyes, open, open, open.

 “…but already…would…dangerous…”

 Someone fumbling at his sleeve, ripping. A foreign voice in his ear.

 “Doesn’t matter…give…more…”

 A pinch inside of his elbow. The world tilting before his half-closed eyes. A rush of cold, and then everything is blurry.

 “…going…”

 Peter’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and jagged darkness swallows him.

[kylos-saber-holder]

The Deed (kylo x oc)

Summary: Wynssa Habea has been serving the Resistance for the past 6 years after the destruction of her former Master’s Jedi temple. Luke Skywalker has not been seen since, leaving Wynssa to believe she is the only survivor of the massacre, leaving her to grieve the loss of her fellow Padawans and her first love, Ben Solo. Being one of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy has granted her a position of power within her secluded task force battalion of rebels. Wynnsa has been given the honor of exterminating elite members of the First Order, wearing a mask and outfit to keep her identity hidden to possible Jedi hunters. Her next target: Emperor Kylo Ren. 

Words: 3,249

AU: In this AU, Rey never existed. Kylo Ren killed Snoke and took over the power as Supreme Leader. He killed Palpatine and took the Star Destroyers for himself and wiped out the rest of the rebels. So basically, The Rise of Skywalker, but without Rey. 

Warnings: 18+ content, swearing, sexual situations, alcohol 

Author’s Note: Hello fellow rats. I’ve been working on this story for quite a bit, yet I’m not sure if I’m going to leave this as a shorter story or not. I’ll see as I go. Also, thank you to TikTok user milliiondollarspice for the prompt idea! 

Masterlist Link to other parts

Part I - You Know I’d Never Hurt You, Right?

The night was cold and a damp smell claimed the air, hostage from the storm that had passed through earlier. Wynssa Habea never liked storms. Hated them, in fact. “I don’t like loud noises.” She would say while playing with her hands nervously. She wondered many times why Master Skywalker even offered to train her. How would a future Jedi Knight fight in battles to protect the galaxy but couldn’t handle a measly storm? 

“Winnie? Are you alright in there?” A familiar voice spoke from outside of her hut, a small knock followed on the wooden door, which was rendered pointless since Wynssa was already aware something was at the door. Not something, but rather, someone. 

“Yes.” The young girl said, playing with her hands for the umpteenth time that night. 

“May I come in?” 

It was late, she knew that. She should tell him to go back to sleep, back to his sleeping quarters. 

“Yes.” Her voice was soft, her gaze leaving the door as she looked down at her now shaking hands. 

The door opened slowly, a terrible squeaking noise followed from the rusted hinges. A young, tall boy walked in, having to duck his head to fit in the doorway. The boy Wynssa considered a friend. Her only one, in fact. 

“Solo.” She greeted him, finally raising her head to see her fellow pupil, Ben Solo. 

“Habea.” He returned the greeting, his voice gentle and caring, the usual way he acted when a storm passed. 

“You’re up late,” She said, pulling her legs onto her bed wrapping her arms around them in an attempt for her to stop fidgeting with her now clammy hands. “You should be sleeping.” 

“So should you.” The young Padawan closed the door behind him, earning yet another squeak from the old hinges. “But here we are.” Ben looked at the empty spot on Wynssa’s bed before looking back at her, “May I sit?” 

She couldn’t hide the smile that formed on her lips, “You may.” 

Ben returned the smile as he walked over the stone flooring, his boots making small “clinks.” He watched her for just a moment before blinking. “Do you want to go for a walk?” 

“And get caught by Master Skywalker and have to scrub floors? No thanks.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “But be my guest.”

A deep chuckle came from Ben’s chest; Wynssa’s favorite sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He wrapped one of his arms around her back, his large hands resting on the lower part of her waist. It was comforting, to her at least. “How was training today? You were dueling with Anja, correct?” He questioned.

A scoff came from her throat, “Hardly, it was mostly haste remarks and insults.”

“From which end?” 

“Who do you think?” 

She could feel his eyes look down at her, “I don’t think you want me to answer.” 

Wynssa sat up quickly, her eyes meeting his as she smacked his arm playfully, another smile playing across her lips. 

Ben laughed, shielding his arm from her with his hand, “I was kidding!” he insisted. 

“Sure you were, Solo.” Her eyes didn't leave his. She studied his face, taking in each fold of skin from his smile, every freckle, every mole. 

Ben’s eyes shifted from her eyes, to her lips, and then back to her eyes. He raised his hand to touch her dark skinned cheek, his thumb stroking small lines. He was silent for a moment before speaking, “You are so beautiful...you know that, right” The low tone of his voice gave her chills more than the cool night had. 

“Shut up and kiss me.” Wynssa’s voice was breathless at this point as Ben took her offer, leaning forward and kissing her with a passion she never received from anyone else, not that there was many people she could compare him to. 

Ben’s other hand moved to the small of her back, playing with the loose fabric of her pajamas. Wynssa kissed him back eagerly, missing his touch and love. They both knew Jedi couldn’t have attachments, but how could they help themselves? Wynssa’s hands rested on his thighs as she turned herself to face him better, which he gladly accepted. 

It wasn’t long until Ben pulled away, pushing her black hair from her face. She looked at him with a puzzled look, worried she did something wrong. “You know I would never hurt you, right?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper as he spoke to her. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle, “What? Of course, I know that. Where did that come from?” 

His face remained serious, making her lose the smile. “I just need you to know that. Because I’m-” A knock came to the door, interrupting his sentence.

“It’s quiet hours, Padawans.” Master Skywalker. 

Wynssa squeezed her eyes tight in embarrassment, scrunching her nose, earning the smallest smile from Ben, “Yes, Master Skywalker.” 

“That goes for you too, Solo.” 

Ben sighed softly, “Yes, Uncle -- I mean, Master Skywalker.” 

The two could hear footsteps retreating beyond the door. Wynssa looked at the boy in front of her, “This is your fault.” She laughed softly. 

“I can make it up to you.” Ben offered, “Since we both will be scrubbing floors and doing the wash tomorrow.” 

“Is that so?” She asked, pushing a strand of his long black hair from his face, “What do you have in mind?” Wynssa questioned, another smile forming. 

“I can think of a few things..” He leaned forward and kissed her again. His hand now resting on her inner thigh. 

She held no resistance to his advances as she felt him push her back against the stiff sheets, forgetting the question he had asked earlier. 

‘You know I would never hurt you, right?’

--

Screams were the thing that woke Wynssa from her slumber rather than the storm that had kicked up again. She sat up quickly, covering her naked body with the scratchy sheets. She looked next to her, hoping to see Ben, but he was gone. He must’ve gone back to his hut to avoid more punishment.

“Ben??” She called out as if she didn’t have a one room hut. She could hear louder screams as she stood up, getting her clothes back on. Once she got her shoes on, she grabbed the lightsaber she had constructed from her nightside table and ran to the door, opening it. Rain was pouring but fires raged all around her. She could hardly see as she ignited her weapon, ready to defend the temple and her fellow Padawans. At the blink of an eye, she was thrown back into the stones, by what she recognized as the Force, that kept her room up. Wynssa could hear a very loud crack that she wasn’t sure if it came from her body or the wall. She gasped in pain, unable to do much more since the harsh hit against the wall had taken the breath from her body. Before she was able to get back up, or even think for a millisecond, the wall came tumbling down on top of her. She didn’t even have time to scream. 

The next thing she remembered was the pain searing through her body as she opened her eyes which were covered in soot and dust. The bricks and stones kept her from moving, not to mention she could hardly feel her legs, or any of her body for that manner. 

“Help!” She squeaked, trying to use her non-as-badly-injured hand to push some of the debris off of herself. “Help!” She cried softly to herself as she began to panic, What if she couldn’t get out? Why hasn’t anyone come to help?

She stopped herself for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Her training, duh! She was Jedi Knight -- well, almost a Jedi Knight. She closed her eyes, focusing her power to achieve the best peace she could in her mind before using the Force to help her. The stones lifted up and up until she drug herself out from under the mess. Once she was clear, the stones fell back to the heap they had her trapped under just moments ago. She sat up, wincing from the pain in all parts of her body. 

Wynssa looked down at her legs, which were completely numb. She couldn’t see any obviously breaks but she could prove herself wrong the second she tried to stand. She took a look around to see what remained of her home. The sight of the temple almost brought her to tears. It was still being ravaged in fire. Who could have done this?! The Jedi were a peaceful religion. The old Empire was long gone. Who was evil enough to destroy the Jedi temple? Anger was the next emotion to hit her and it hit like a tsunami. She would find whoever did this and make them regret ever stepping foot into her home. 

-- 

Wynssa opened her eyes as she abruptly pulled from her mediation session by a voice at the entrance of her tent. “Commander Habea, General Ilbis would like a word with you about your most recent mission.” Wynssa let out a low groan of annoyance as she stood from her place on the floor, reaching to the small desk next to her cot for the helmet that rested on the weathered wood. 

Six years. She had been wearing this helmet for six years. Worked with the Resistance for six years to destroy the First Order who terrorized the galaxy. It was either work for them or work as a scrapper trying to hide her true identity as a Jedi for her own safety. 

Wynssa looked at the silhouette of the person standing outside her tent, “Tell General Ilbis I will be in her quarters momentarily.” She mumbled softly, tracing her fingers across the scrapes and scratches in the banged up helmet that sealed her true self from the world. Very select members of the Resistance have ever seen her without it. Not that this base was very big to begin with. Wynssa had never worked directly with General Leia Organa like many others had. Leia was a legend to say the least. Wynssa was meant to be a “secret” operation who handled loose ends or took out important targets when a whole fleet of Resistance fighters couldn’t make it in or out. 

The much larger part of the Resistance was fighting hand to hand with the First Order over in Exegol with in hopes that they can end the First Order once and for all. She didn’t know much outside of that, most of the information was classified to anyone below the rank of General. The base Wynssa called home for the time being was on the aquatic planet of Aeos Prime where the Resistance had a previous base that the First Order had driven them out of a long time ago. It was the perfect place to hide from the First Order when they think they’ve already driven the Resistance from it. 

Wynssa placed the metal helmet over her head, letting it lock into place before grabbing her lightsaber from the desk, clipping it to her belt. She caught a glimpse of herself in the broken mirror that rested on the desk. Six years had passed since the destruction of the temple Master Skywalker had built. She had changed so much since then. Her beliefs had to change in order to survive, in order for the Jedi religion to survive. The mask only reminded her of that fateful, stormy night. The last night she had seen her best friend, her lover. The emptiness that could never be filled. She missed Ben. But Ben Solo was in the past, along with all of the other Padawans. As far as she knew, she was the only survivor. 

She shook the memory from her head as she walked out of her tent, seeing a woman in a Captain’s uniform. “Captain Kwerve.” Wynssa greeted the woman as she began walking towards their General’s tent, the modulator in her mask fluctuating as it was getting used to being used for the first time for the day. “Commander.” She greeted. Luminaria Kwerve was more of an assistant to Wynssa than an actual Captain. 

“The General has been restless all day. I fear she may request more than a debriefing, Commander.” Captain Kwerve said softly. 

“Yes, I can sense her worry, I can feel her unrest. She brings bad news.” Wynssa kept her voice calm and collected. Perhaps the General was worried about the mission to Exegol. Wynssa had offered to fly there herself and deal with the matter firsthand, but a transmission from directly General Organa told Wynssa to stay put, that she was too important to the Resistance to lose in case this mission went sideways. 

They arrived outside of a dark brown tent, Wynssa stopped right at the foot of the entrance. She looked down at her feet, “Thank you for your company, Captain. Go back to your quarters, I will inform you when the meeting is over.” 

“Yes, Commander Habea.” Luminaria gave a slight bow before leaving Wynssa’s side. 

She took a deep breath before opening the flap of the tent, making her way inside. “General Ilbis, you wanted to see me?” She asked, standing with her hands folded at the entrance. 

A young woman with bright red hair and fair skin was sitting at her desk, her leg bouncing up and down, “The plan on Exegol failed.” General Kelisa Ilbis said, not looking at Wynssa. 

Wynssa blinked under the mask, her throat swelling at the words that came so suddenly from her superior. “General, pardon me, but did you say it...failed? H-how is that even possible?” 

“Yes, Commander. Our military fleet is now gone. It’s just us now. I got the transmission from a passing First Order Star Destroyer this morning.” she ran her hands through her hair which she had likely been doing all morning. It would explain the loose hairs and frizz. 

Wynssa felt the corner of her eye twitch at the very mention of the First Order. She’d spent the last six years of her life picking off important officers for the benefit and survival of the rebellion. Now it seemed it was all for nothing. “Not even one X-Wing survived-?”

“No, Commander. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren - well, Emperor -  made sure to destroy every single ship that had entered Exegol or got within 4 parsecs radius of the planet to make sure the Resistance couldn’t survive.” Her voice sounded haunted, almost like she blamed herself. 

Kylo Ren. The name was famous to her. Killing him would be the direct fall of the First Order. “So the Emperor has thousands of Star Destroyers… and we have no other huge military advantage against the First Order… what are we going to do, General?” She was trying to keep the slight hope in her voice but it was hard when the biggest asshole in the galaxy destroyed the only major chance they had in stopping them. 

“I don’t know. General Organa didn’t send a transmission beforehand to tell us what to do in case this went sideways which… is odd. It doesn’t make sense.” She sighed, standing and walking to the flask on the strategy board in the middle of the room. Wynssa never saw her leading General drink, which meant this was tearing her apart from the inside. 

“I want you to kill him.” She said after taking a swig from the small canister. Her voice was hollow and empty. 

Wynssa thought she heard her wrong. “I beg your pardon, General?” 

Ilbis slammed the flask back onto the table, “You heard me, Wynssa. I want you to kill Kylo Ren. Kill him on sight. He will pay for what he did to us.” 

“General, don’t we need approval for such a huge-” 

“There’s no one to approve this!” The General snapped suddenly, a wild look in her eyes pierced right through the metal hideaway Wynssa hid herself in. She sighed, looking down at the board which was littered with small playing pieces they used to strategize attacks. “Commander, it’s an order. I want you to kill Kylo Ren. We are what’s left of the Resistance. We need to keep hope alive in the galaxy or we’re no better than the First Order. We will fight until every single rebel is dead. We cannot let the rebellion die along with General Organa and the rest of the Resistance.” Tears laced her eyes as she fought them back. “I want you to bring Captain Kwerve along with you, Commander. You’re going to need all the help you can get.” She said, collecting the grief in her voice. 

“General… as much as I would love to rip his head from his body, Ren has an entire fleet of Star Destroyers. Not to mention, if Commander Dameron’s analysis was correct, those Star Destroyers have canons that can destroy entire planets. Like they destroyed Kijimi. What happens if the First Order figures out where we are located and destroys the planet before we get out safely?” Wynssa pointed out. “Then the Resistance will really be gone.” 

“I thought you were capable of taking out our highest targets, Commander.” Her voice was flat, unimpressed. 

Wynssa scoffed, the modulator in her mask cut in and out for just a moment, “I am, General. We both know that. You’re lack of faith in my ability to serve is insulting. I have put myself at risk for six years fighting for this cause. The game has completely changed.” Anger filled Wynssa’s voice. “You’re sending me on a suicide mission, General. Normally, I would care less, but we’re all we have left. You, me, and the other hundred people in this base.”

General Ilbis sighed again, thinking silently. “You’re right. It is a suicide mission, but while Kylo Ren is still breathing, we have no other option but to hide and rebuild while he destroys planets that don’t conform to his rule with those laser canons. You and Captain Kwerve are the only ones who can do it. We have to get to the base on Yavin 4 before the First Order destroys all the resources. That will give you and Captain Kwerve time to get details on how to get onto Ren’s ship. He’s not going to be dumb enough to leave the ship during his take over.”

“He’s strong with the Force. He won’t need to leave the ship to know that I’m coming…” Wynssa thought out loud. “Either way, he’s going to know I’m there… but I’ll figure it out.” She nodded, silently accepting the mission. 

“Thank you, Commander. I had some of the pilots get your ship ready since I assume you’d like to get back as soon as possible.” Ibis nodded. “You will go down in history, Wynssa. Thank you.” The General held her hand out, offering a handshake. 

Wynssa flinched under her helmet at the mention of her first name slightly before reaching her hand out, shaking it with a firm grasp, her gloved hand meeting the soft skin of her General, “I won’t let you down, General. I promise, Kylo Ren will pay for everything he’s done.” 

Kelsia nodded, letting go of her Commander’s hand, “Please, be safe; you and Captain Kwerve. Send her my best wishes.” 

“I will, General. May the Force be with you.” 

“May the Force be with you.”

~~

Return to Masterlist

[91whiskeygirl]

Hell Hound and Baby

An inspired chapter out of Season 12, enjoy!

**Clearly this has been fit to where reader can be inserted, don’t look too deep into it fam.**

Your y/e/c eyes shot open, the silence in the bunker deafened a ringing in your ears. Yawning and stretching out on your bed you tried to refocus your vision. Reaching for your phone to see it was 10am you see a text notification from Sam.

“Made it to the last pit stop, should be there in a few hours -Yeti”a grin swept across your face.

It was delivered three hours ago, making you jump off of your bed. You had cleaned the bunker top to bottom due to your anxiety taking you over. You were always restless whenever you couldn’t go with them on a hunt, but the boys assured you it was just a normal milk run.

They could be driving into the garage any minute, so you freshen up quickly in the bathroom then make your way to the kitchen. Popping waffles into the toaster and heating up the stove to make a huge omelet for the three of you. Digging into the fridge for the last of the bacon, you reached for your favorite creamer as well so you could start your coffee. Whenever you needed to calm your nerves you could be found in the kitchen making a meal for everyone. Thanks to your muscle memory of working at a restaurant when you were just a normal girl barely surviving on minimum wage. After the horsemen came through your town, you miraculously survived thanks to the Winchester’s. They’d taken you under their wing since you were the only survivor in the whole town, your friends all dead. You had no family, so naturally you had nowhere to go.

Now, in the Men of Letters bunker years later, you never thought your life would be this complete 180. Fighting the supernatural and saving lives. Lately there wasn’t a lot of saving, but if you were honest with yourself as long as the boys came home with you in one piece you counted it as a win.

Finishing off the bacon sizzling in the pan you placed everything on the dining table, adjusting the placemats and silverware to make sure everything was in order. Content with the appearance of your food you grabbed your coffee mug and took a swig, then you heard muffled voices coming into the bunker.

“No don’t don’t don’t-!” Sam exclaimed.

You heard Dean reply “What?”

You made your way to their voices and saw him sitting in the library layered in blood and chunks of meat.

“Dude! You’re covered in ghoul, and wraith- I think that’s some siren in your hair?” Sam pointed to his own head while Dean fished out a piece of skin flap, and flicked it.

“Haha, gross”

“Hey! I just cleaned yesterday” you pouted, holding your mug close to your chest.

The boys looked your way. Sam clearly annoyed at his brother but grinning at you.

“Hey, we’re back” he said.

“Yeah, with a dirty Dean. Let me guess, you didn’t even pack enough underwear did you?” You sipped on your coffee and gave Dean a judgemental glare.

Sam let out a heavy sigh “He’s been wearing the same pair of underwear for FOUR DAYS”, your eyes widened with disgust. Dean looked to Sam and pointed at you then his brother. “Ok, weird how you know how much underwear I pack and B, it’s two and two”

“Two and two?” You asked.

“Doesn’t count if you flip’em inside out” clicking his tongue and giving you a smirk and a wink. As dirty as he was right now he’d only given you that flash of a smile and you felt like jello. You rolled your eyes, grimacing at the rotting scent he was giving off into the air.

An alert from Sam’s phone went off,

“ Got another case”

“That fast? How’d you do that” Dean’s quizzical brow furrowed.

Sam replied ,“ Simple algorithm I made that scrapes the data from police scanners, emergency calls and local news sites and then it puts everything into a -“

Dean stared blankly at his brother.

“The computer told him .” You giggled softly.

“Computers. Monsters, porn, is there anything they can’t do?” He chuckled. “Ok let’s get to it then”, he slaps the table and starts to stand up.

“Ah uh, not until you’ve had a nice, long hot shower and a change of fresh clothes”you pointed out to him, your eyes looking at him from bottom to top.

He shrugged “I’ve got baby wipes in the car”

“Dean, no.” You declared.

“DUDE, I’m serious man, you smell like roadkill.” Sam told him.

“Monster roadkill” you added. You turned to make your way back to the kitchen. “Catch up with me and Sam for some grub after your shower”.

You swayed your hips a little before disappearing. Sam glances at Dean who enjoyed the view of you walking away and they exchanged a silent look. Sam knew how his brother checked you out whenever you weren’t looking. “Shower ; Dean.” Sam told him, following your path to a hearty meal.

“Alright, I’m using that fancy shampoo that you keep hidden from me” Dean says as he walks out of the library.

Not a lot of conversation between any of you at the dining table, they clearly missed a home cooked meal. You gave them a small smile while working on your second cup of coffee. “So where’s the case?” You asked finally. Sam looked up swallowing his last bite. “Nebraska.”, “K, I’ll go get packed.” Dean looked up, mouth still full, shaking his head at you.

“I think you should still sit out sweetheart, it might not be a regular milk run”.

“Like hell I should sit it out Dean, I haven’t seen y’all in four days!” You gave him puppy eyes and placed your hand under your chin. He always gave in to that. A loud sigh came out of him “FINE, but you need to lay low because I don’t need to be worrying about you like I already do.”

You giggled excitedly and went towards your room to pack.

Within 20 minutes you met them at the impala with your FBI suit. You wouldn’t personally call it a suit, since you always had difficulty with it, mostly because the only size they had at the last store was a pencil skirt and it always rode up your ass, so you had to either use skimpy underwear or none at all. You saw Dean shaven and in his own monkey suit, you made your way to the back seat but before you climbed in you remarked to him “You clean up nice.” Biting your bottom lip.

“You too, love the uh, “ he leaned to the side and gave your backside a glance, catching himself he straightened up quickly hoping you hadn’t noticed. “The skirt.” You blushed a little and made your way into the car. “Yeah, we’ll if it didn’t ride my ass all day maybe I’d love it too” giving him a wink at his astonished face. He knew you weren’t quick with words, and in a flirty situation you were always awkward, so he was surprised with your comeback.

Finally reaching the scene the two Winchester’s made their way to the sheriff, you stayed behind catching up with Mary on what she was up to.

“We just finished a haunting in Akron, pretty cut and dry, nothing for you all to worry about over me.” Mary’s voice was one of your many favorite comforts. After meeting her and helping her get used to today’s society you both grew close like mother and daughter pretty quickly. “That’s great to hear Mary, I’m glad your safe and well. We’re working a case up in Nebraska, it’s wet and cold and the boys as usual wanted me to stay back at the bunker. I hadn’t seen them in days and I was bored out of my mind”. You looked out the window towards where you saw they were talking to the sheriff, walking into some bushes where the murder took place.

“It’s good that you’re with them you know. They need a woman to straighten them up. Listen I’ve got to go, but tell my sons I love them. You take care too alright?”

“Of course, stay safe.” You hung up and adjusted your seating placement. “Damn leather seats and short skirts!” You hissed.

The car doors opened with a loud creak , Sam and Dean jump in you cling to the front seat to hear the information they gathered. “We got a lead?”

“Gwen Hernandez, she said it was an ‘invisible wolf’, and that it’s out to get her next” Sam replied. You looked over to Dean to try to read him, but his stern face was all you got back at you. “Hell hound “ you said softly, just saying those words had your skin covered in goosebumps. “Most likely,” Sam replied, “I’m gonna get the address of Gwen’s home” Sinking back into his phone.

Reaching the neighborhood Dean stopped across the street from Gwen’s house. Sam started across the road, when you started to climb out you were stopped by Dean’s callous hand on yours on the door.You gave him a hard stare, “I can help Dean. “

“Just enjoy the ride y/n, we got this”

“What are you two gonna say? Hi I’m Sam and this is my much more handsome brother Dean and we hunt monsters, we’re here to save you from an invisible dog??” You blabbered out.

His brows shot up and a smiled curled on to his lips while you two locked eyes. “You think I’m more handsome.”

You gulped and climbed out, your bodies close enough to where you could smell Sam’s shampoo and Deans cologne.

“The whole two and two underwear thing, really gave me the hots for you.” You said sarcastically. You didn’t see Dean’s face since you were quick to neutralize the tension you’d felt but he was trying his best not to react to your involuntary compliment, while checking out your thick thighs hugging your skirt as you walked across the street.

You knocked firmly on the door and Gwen answered, the inside lock still latched.

You smiled softly and showed your badge.

“Miss Hernandez? I’m agent Martinez, this is agent Baker and Clapton. May we come in to ask just a few quick questions about Marcus?”

She looked to the three of you reluctantly but closed the door sliding the dead bolt, and let you in.

“Thank you. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She motioned to have you sit in the living room.

“Uh, you can have a seat.”

Sam and Dean chose the seats opposite of the couch, making your choice to sit by Gwen.

Sam began to explain to her that it was a bear that attacked her boyfriend, and that they had found it and put it down. Her eyes glazed over.

“I know what I saw”.

Sam continued, “Gwen, when you have a traumatic experience your mind can make things up.”

Gwen looked away and crossed her arms. “Get out.”

You situated yourself facing her.

“We’re only here to help.”

“I don’t need your help, I KNOW what I saw, get out of my house!”

You looked over to the boys, and took a deep breath in. “Ok, we’re sorry, again, if you have anything you want to get off your chest, when you’re ready, give me a call.” You placed your card on the coffee table.

Leaving her home with the door slammed shut behind you took a breath. “That went just swell” you said. Dean nodded, “Ohyeah, she’s gonna sleep like a baby”.

A blood curdling scream came from the house making you turn and run back in, the boys following right behind. You had your Browning pistol ready, checking the living room and making your way to the back, you heard another scream and saw Gwen lying on the floor, paw prints embedded on to the carpet from the pressure of the hell hound right on top of her. You aimed and shot the hound only grazing it, then hearing another recoil from Dean shooting it, the hound jumping out of the window. Dean gave you the all clear and you helped Gwen up to her feet and made your way to the dining room.

“So you guys aren’t cops” she stated.

Sam Sat down in front of her while you and Dean hung back.

“No, uh, I’m Sam, that’s my brother Dean, and this is y/n. We’re... hunters”

She looked at the three of you trying to make sense of it all.

Reading her expression that she needed more of an explanation;

“That thing that just attacked you, it’s a hell hound. Goofer dust will keep them away but not long, a demon or angel blade is handy though to end them.”you informed her.

“Then why did you tell me it was a bear?” Looking to you.

“To make you feel better.” Dean said pointing at Sam.

“His idea.”

Sam gave Dean his usual annoyed look.

You leaned your palms onto the table looking at Gwen, her hair disheveled and wide eyed from the fear of what just happened in her home.

“Listen, it does sound insane, but I need to ask. Did you make a deal with a demon, or did Marcus, 10 years ago?”

“No, I didn’t even know these things existed!” she replied tears welling up.

“Ok, so what the hell” Dean says

“I don’t know, but I know who we can ask” Sam says.

Dean walks out of the room and makes a call to Crowley.

A couple minutes and;

“Here.” A short man with a black coat and suit appears in the room. Crowley looks over to Sam and Dean then to you.

“Miss me?”

A few moments of “God making the first creatures” to “Bitch only heels to Lucifer.” You were starting to get a headache.

“Well, why would it be going for Gwen?”

Crowley shrugged “Why don’t you ask her?”

All eyes on her, she let it out, “Well, I did hit it; With an ax.” You accepted that badass answer.

“Yes, bitch does tend to hold a grudge. Well! looks like we’ve got a job to do.”

Driving back to the woods with Crowley and Gwen in the backseat with you, you’ve never been so uncomfortable, and that goes for saying being captured so many times by shapeshifters, ghosts, demons and having you crammed into the tiniest nooks until the boys got you out.

Arriving back at Sica Hollow You had changed into your usual clothes, combat boots, black jeans and a sleeve shirt under a black and grey flannel Dean loaned to you before he left for the last hunt. Dean looked more relaxed in his usual flannel and denim wardrobe, Sam layered with his heavy tan jacket.

Dean grabs things out of the trunk while you stay aside Gwen.

“Ok, Crowley, Sam and I will look for Cujo while you both take a drive, keep moving until we call.”, he hands you the holy fire glasses and you put them on. Great, if you had any ego you definitely didn’t have any now. You looked into the back window and you look like a hipster going to the nearest vegan bakery. “Heh, your like a cute hipster chick.” Dean smiles at you. Starting to blush rose red you headed to the driver seat.

“Hey, take care of her” Dean tells you firmly.

You were taken aback, looking up at him you gently told him, “of course.”

A small silence fell until you realized.

“You mean Baby.”Pointing your thumb at the impala.Sam chuckled.

“You and Sammy always ride the brakes.” You rolled your eyes and sat in the seat.

“Just, imagine that she’s a beautiful, beautiful woman.” You inhaled sharply and started the ignition, revving the engine.

“Sorry honey, I tend to ride my women hard.” With a wink you drove off, laughing as you looked back in the mirror at Dean’s open mouthed goober of a face. That should keep his dirty mind occupied until the hunt was over. You looked over at Gwen who was clearly nervous, and you patted her hand then returned it to the wheel. “They got this. We need to just drive for a few, focus on the task at hand ok?” You tried your best to reassure her to get her mind out of the dark hole that you knew. Fear in a hunter’s life is unnecessary. It makes your mind second guess and stop trusting your instinct. You didn’t need to be killed just because she couldn’t keep her head straight for a couple hours.

An hour in and a small whisper came out of Gwen”I’m sorry”

You glanced her way. “For what?”

“All of this. What happened to Marcus....”

you saw her start to panic.

“Gwen, this isn’t your fault.”

You see her starting to tense up.

“Pull over, please!” She begged.

Without thought you pulled to the side of the highway.She stepped out of the car and you could hear her sobs. After a moment she got back into her seat, wiping her face.

“It was my idea to go camping. Marcus was sweet and kind, but I lied to make things easier. He loved me more than I loved him.” You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. You didn’t have time for this, you thought you’d be empathetic for her, being she was just a young girl and you knew how she felt with love troubles at that age, but the mission at hand was to keep her safe, and stopping near the woods was not the best idea.

Clearing your throat “We should go.”

She whispered an apology and you gasped seeing the hound up ahead only 10 feet away from the car.

“Oh shit, she’s here.” You said, starting to tremble from the adrenaline. Red glowing eyes peered into the windshield and you jumped up as you saw the hellhound’s huge body run and jump on to the hood and on to the windshield, glass cracking and giving Gwen a scream out of her.

“Ok, you have to stay calm. Ok?!” You told her, taking off your seat belt. You both were sitting ducks, you had to do something. The hound made its way up to the roof, and you anticipated what would come next. Following the growls and grunts you fished out the angel blade in a duffel bag behind your seat.

“No! We should leave!” Gwen squealed.

“She won’t stop till you or her are dead, I have to take care of this! Stay in the damn car” she only nodded as you opened your door. You made your way to the front of the car when it jumped you, shoving you back and on to the ground, the glasses flying off. You felt a few hundred pounds of pressure on you, punching the air out of you. You could feel it’s hot breath on you. You still held tight to the blade but a claw gripped you from any movement. You suddenly saw Gwen run over to you with the cooler and she smacked the bitch, a yelp out of it. You stood up trying to get your balance back, looking in front of you. The only thing giving away where the hound was the fog of breath coming closer to you. You heard a low growl and gravel sifted down, the hound lunging straight for you. Taking a chance you stabbed into the air and heard a wail of pain from it, it’s dark blood flooding on to your arm, and you heard it drop.

Trying to catch a breath you looked to Gwen to make sure she was ok. Picking up the glasses you saw it’s body twitching but not breathing. Letting out an exhale of relief you both got back in the car to get the three stooges.

Dean looked to his baby’s damage, stopping next to you as you held your head down a bit. “This is why you don’t drive” he said to you sternly. You took off the glasses and fixed your jacket. “She still runs. We can fix her up. Always do.” You tell him.

He walks away towards Sam and Crowley. “So it’s over” asks Gwen.

“It’s over.” Crowley replies. You see her hug Crowley and you laugh silently.

“Alright. Dog dead, must leave now.”

Sam holds a hand up “Wait a second “, Crowley stands there with a blank look. Always hard to read demons.

“Thank you” Sam says. Just like that Crowley is gone.

Dean gets into his seat. You next to him while Sam sits in the back with Gwen.

He looks to you as he puts the key in the ignition. “Let’s hope it still runs” you start to sink a little into the seat until you hear the impala purr to life.

“Yeah baby! Always there when your girl needs you.” You pat the dashboard and reach to get your seat belt. Sam cleared his throat and you looked to him then Dean, his face still hard at you. You gave a tight grin and settled in for a long awkward ride back to the bunker after you drop Gwen off .

Walking down the metal staircase jacket in hand you filled up a glass of rum before heading to your room. Hearing Dean talk to Cas on the phone you only heard bits and pieces. Cas found a trail to Kelly and her baby. Good news but also bad. The boys might not want you to follow, AGAIN.

You sighed heavily walking to your room and sipped on your rum and coke. Luckily the boys preferred whiskey, so your stash of Coke cans and cheap rum were always stocked. You took off your clothes except your bra and underwear, wrapped your towel around you and headed to the shower. Turning a corner you bumped into Dean. You stopped breathing for a few seconds until he said “Sorry about being a hard ass about Baby, but”

“I know dean, it’s Baby, your beautiful, beautiful woman.” You gave him a side smile and pattered off to your shower.

You heard his distance “Y/n,” and turned around.

“You know, you did good today. Not a scratch on you. I’m glad it was her banged up instead of you.” He raised his glass to you and gulped down what was left of it. You turned around clutching your towel smiling brightly.

The hot shower did you a lot of good. The dry blood from the hell hound washed away along with your negative thoughts of Dean disowning you because you messed his car up. You had offered to give him a test drive of your Black 2010 Dodge Challenger until baby was fixed up, but he refused. His loyalty and admiration to that impala almost made you jealous. If his car became a woman you wouldn’t have a chance.

A knock at the door startled you as you toweled off. “Hey, I need to brush my teeth real quick” Sam talked into the closed door.

“Yeah gimme a second” you quickly towel dried your hair and then wrapped yourself. Opening the door you were met with the tall yeti towering over you in his grey v neck sleeve shirt and pajama pants. “Go ahead Yeti.” You smiled up at him. He returned the smile pushing his hair back. “ Gwen told me how you gutted that hound. I’m proud of you” you nodded, making your way out of the doorway.

“For a newbie, that was pretty badass right?” You added

He laughed and nodded, making his way to the toiletry cabinet.

You were about to leave til you gave a random thought a second chance.

“Hey, if it’s not too late can you hang out with me? In the kitchen?”

Sam gave you a small nod, his toothbrush already in his mouth.

Changing into your pajamas, a black shirt loaned by Dean since you first got to stay in the bunker, and your lace shorts that accentuated your curvy hips and thighs.

You took to the kitchen and started to prep tomorrow’s breakfast burritos. You carefully selected each thing to add for Sam and Dean, compete opposites when it came to food.

Sausage and jalapeños with extra onions for Dean, while you went light for Sam, spicy cashew sauce and gluten free salsa with tofu.

You washed the rice to add as a filling and chopped up the potatoes to make hash browns, soaking them in water.

Nearly finishing Sam arrived and took out a fruit bowl and bottle of water, bringing his laptop up to the counter.

“What’s up?” He says, glancing at you then starting up his computer.

“I know I’m going to sound like such a girl, but... “ you started to twiddle your thumbs in your hands. Sam looked up to you from the computer screen waiting for more.

“Why does Dean not want me to help you guys during a hunt? I mean I know I’m kind of new to this still but I am useful. I can fight. I research like you do. I can charm my way into the autopsy room if I have to.”

Sam softly chuckled and rubbed his forehead.

“It’s not about what you can do y/n. He doesn’t see you as useless. We know, HE knows you’re capable of being a skilled hunter. But he worries you’ll get hurt. He knows you don’t need saving but he doesn’t want to have to save you.” Your eyes widen at him, your mouth partially open but not knowing what to say.

“I’m going to give it to you straight, ok? He likes you, like, likes you likes you even though he hasn’t admitted it to me yet. He flirts differently with you, I’ve never seen him care for someone so much and want to jump their pants at the same time. It’d break him if you got hurt or worse” then went back to typing. You stood there dumbfounded at what he just said. “Dean Winchester, like likes me?”

You turn towards your potatoes to place them in the fridge, threw the dishes into the sink without washing them, you didn’t even see Sam observing your shocked expression, walking slowly into the hallway. “Dean Winchester like likes me, “ you repeat multiple times to yourself. Your heart wanted to jump out of your chest, you felt like a teenager. Opening your door your heart just about leapt right out when you saw Dean lying on your bed with his headphones on. You were stuck at the doorway looking around to make sure you opened the right door. Nope, it was your room. As he saw you come in he smiled and patted the bed to sit on the side of him. You grinned and tried your best to compose yourself, breathing a bit heavily. Climbing on to your bed and covering your legs under the covers you sat up next to him. The silence between you two were deafening.you didn’t know what this was, Dean has only been in your room twice, and both of them platonic enough to make you sick to your stomach. You looked to him and his jade eyes locked on yours. You were about to tell him what Sam said until he blurted out through his earphones;

“Since Baby’s out of commission for a bit, you can take me up on that offer to test drive your baby.”Your shoulders relaxed a bit and you fell back into the pillows.

“Or you could take me for a test drive.” You whispered.

“What?” He said

“What?” You replied. Oh god, he took off his headphones while he was talking to you. You started to feel your heart flutter.

“You want a test drive sweetheart?” He got up from sitting up to his knees and arms, making his way to your side of the bed.

“Um I-“ you didn’t have time to finish whatever you wanted to say.

His soft lips touched yours and you closed your eyes. A few nips to your bottom lips and a moan escaped from you, feeling Deans lips curl into a smile.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

You blinked a few times trying to focus on who was calling your name.

“Y/n, I said do you want to go on a ride tomorrow? Sam says we should take a break since Cas has a lead on where Kelly is.”

Your face showed you were dumbfounded. Had you imagined it all? Dean kissing you? Oh god you need to stop drinking before bed.

“Umm, yeah, tomorrow’s fine. “

Dean gives you a pat on the back and jumps off you bed. “Ok, after breakfast I’ll check out under her hood, night.” He throws a smile your way and heads out. You slump into your pillows and rub your face. “Get a grip. He doesn’t feel that way, why would he? “. You cover yourself and roll to where he was, the spot still warm with the smell of his body wash.

You sigh heavily and close your eyes to try to chase the sleep you knew you wouldn’t be able to get unless he was next to you.

**I might make this a series of episodes I liked and have it into a reader insert thing. Have a Happy New Year!**Im planning more original series and one shots, plus, I might have a shot to go to the SPN convention in August 2020! Anyone else planning to go too? I need friends 😂

[rainbowpaladins]

Untitled ABO fic pt7

As the Blue Lion touched down in her hanger, Lance almost fled. He both did and did not want to see who the new Blue Paladin was, this person that had replaced him. Wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be someone he knew or someone he’d never met.

Through the bond, Blue sent a wave of love and calm. Having more than one Paladin was not a weakness, for her. She loved both of them equally.

So, Lance stayed the several critical moments necessary for the pilot to finish landing and to start down the walkway to the hanger. He blinked as a female-like in a pink Paladin suit came down. He hadn’t expected the person to wear any other color other than the lion’s.

The figure paused upon seeing him, before rushing forward, visor opening to allow him to hear: “Lance!”

Lance stared, even as he was enveloped in a hug. “Allura?” And didn’t that make sense? Of everyone that deserved a chance to be out there fighting the good fight on the front lines, it was Allura. As she pulled away so they could better see each other, he raised an eyebrow at her. “Pink? Not going with blue?”

She smiled, her eyes a little misty. “Pink means something different on my planet. We wear it to honor our fallen heroes.”

“Huh,” he mused. “Pink as the new black.” 

She blinked at him in confusion, not getting the reference. Her attention was pulled down the bundle in his arms. “Oh, a youngling.” She reached out to run a hand along the side of Izzy’s head, finger running along the round shell of her ear. Her eyes darted up to meet Lance’s. “Is she...?”

Lance braced himself. He didn’t want to have this conversation now, but he wasn’t going to lie. “She is human.”

Beside him, Keith jerked. “What? How is there another human out here?”

The former Blue Paladin gave him a look. The answer really should have been obvious. She was dark skinned. How many other dark skinned humans were there in space? “She’s my daughter.”

Keith and Allura stared at him, both freezing. He took advantage of it to start heading for the exit.

Keith’s fingers brushed his arm. “Wait! You can’t drop something like that on us and then run off.”

Lance ‘hmm’ed. “And yet, I am.” He determinedly did not look at either of them. “Izzy’s been drugged with something. I need to know if it’s harmful or not.” His shoulders drooped. “And then I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Behind him, Keith and Allura exchanged looks. Allura reached out a hand and laid it on Lance’s shoulder, keeping pace with him. “Coran should be able to tell if she has been harmed or not.” A squeeze to his shoulder. “Please let him check you over as well.”

He nodded, if only because he didn’t have the will to fight them anymore. They walked with him, like some sort of guard. Were they ensuring he didn’t run again? Likely not, but it was still a thought.

When they arrived at the infirmary, it was bustling with activity. Coran and the other Paladins were working through the survivors of Lotor’s quintessence farm, loading who they could into the pods. A few others were sitting up on beds, awake and alert. They must have been new, as their skin looked only slightly paler than normal and their bodies lacked that sunken look the other’s had.

Lance ached as he noted that there had been a few people they hadn’t been able to save, their bodies respectfully laid out on tables to the side and covered in white cloth. Thought of how easily that could have been him and Izzy, given another few weeks.

As the last of the pods sealed up, working to do what it could to stabilize the survivor’s bodies and give them a fighting chance at living long enough to start replenishing their life forces, Hunk turned his attention to the newest arrivals. His helmet was off, his change of expression from shock to tearful joy on display for all. “Oh my God! Lance!” He bound across the room at a speed that would make an Olympic runner envious. “You’re here!”

Lance braced himself. He still nearly toppled as Hunk all but wrapped himself around him. He laughed. “I missed you too, Hunk, but I really don’t want to drop Izzy.”

Hunk pulled back immediately. He gaped at the tiny human in his arms. “Is that what I think it is?” He stared at Lance. “Lance, buddy. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Lance didn’t respond, looking past to Coran and the others, who were all watching the exchange with various similar expressions of surprise. “Coran, can you look at here? Lotor did something to her.”

Coran blinked, coming alive instantly. “Of course, Number three! Bring her over here.” He led the way to a spare bed, patient as Lance slowly, reluctantly placed his daughter down on the bed. The red reached out and place a hand on Lance’s shoulder, giving it a pat. “We’ll find out if there’s anything wrong with her.” He withdrew his hand to turn on the monitors. “And then she’ll be as right as a yalmor in a yalmor patch.”

Lance was going to have to take his word at that, because he had no idea what a yalmor was, let alone a yalmor patch.

As Coran worked his magic, the hairs on the back of Lance’s neck raised. A moment later, someone was standing beside him. He didn’t need to see the black and white armor to know who it was. He’d know Shiro’s presence anywhere. It took every ounce of his self control not to turn his head and look at him.

Thankfully, Shiro said nothing, apparently content to wait until their Altean advisor was finished.

It didn’t take long. “She appears to have been given a light dose of plumeria.” He double checked the readings and then Izzy herself. “This light of a dose should only last an hour, maybe two at most. She’s a little low on quintessence, but she’ll recover just fine.” He looked up at Lance. “Why don’t you step around here and let me take a look at you, too, Number three.”

Lance’s hands gripped the bed. For a moment, all he could see were fuzzy images of wires and people standing over him, their words garbled. He breathed through it, reminding himself that this wasn’t Lotor’s lab and Coran wasn’t going to take advantage of him while he was vulnerable.

Coran noticed the reluctancy regardless, picking up a scanner and setting it to transmit to the monitors. “I know, how about we use this instead? Much more versatile.”

Lance was terribly grateful for the cover up, nodding a little too enthusiastically. The advisor pretended not to notice, running the scanner up and down Lance.

Coran frowned, something dark behind his eyes as he took in the readings. “You’re a little malnourished and your quintessence low. Much lower than your little girl.” Lance worried he’d ask. Thankfully, he didn’t, clapping his hands together as he turned back around. “Nothing a few good meals and some rest can’t fix up.” He paused. “Your room is still available.”

Lance knew what he wasn’t asking. Was he going to stay? Insist on leaving again? Everyone was watching, he could feel their eyes on him just as much as he was extremely aware of Shiro at his side.

His knuckles were white, his grip on the edge of the bed so tight, but he managed a smile. “Thank you. We’ll take up the offer.”

Shiro’s human hand came up to rest on his arm. “Why don’t I take you both down there?” 

It wasn’t really a question.

Lance bristled, focusing on irritation to distract him from the things in his head. “I remember how to get there.” He didn’t need them to babysit him. He said he’d stay. He wasn’t going to run again.

Shiro shook his head, his expression softening. Lance wished, more than anything, that he wouldn’t look at him like that. Like he actually cared. “Lance, please.”

He mostly hated it, because he couldn’t say no. “Alright.”

Hunk spun around and made a dash for the doors. “I’ll make something for you to eat! I think we still have some of your favorites!”

Allura came up on his other side. “After you have rested, we would like to speak with you.” She looked down at Izzy. “I have the feeling we have much to talk about.”

Lance followed her gaze, reaching out and taking Izzy into his arms. Shiro’s hand on his shoulder suddenly felt like it weighted a ton. “Yes, we do.”

-tbc

[marblesarelost]

Change Your Mind, Change Your Life

                                             Chapter 11

“I completely understand your concerns, Ambassador,” Darcy said as her office door opened to reveal Jane, freshly tanned and looking thinner, but with a bright glint in her eyes as she grinned. Darcy grinned too, waving madly with the hand not currently busy with the phone.  “And that’s why the guarantee from Stark is written into the treaty.”

“Yes.  The replacement and insurance clauses,” Mr. Minh, the Vietnamese diplomat replied.  “The government of Vietnam would like to see them doubled.  The Hulk by himself can do so much damage, how much more when adding Thor or Loki into the mix?”

“I believe we can accommodate you regarding the insurance clauses, but the replacement clauses are non-negotiable. Stark Enterprises guarantees the replacement of any building necessary.  That’s millions of dollars worth of possible improvements already.”

“I will speak with my government.”

“Of course.  Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.”  Darcy hung up when the ambassador did, rising from her desk and running around it to fling her arms around Jane.  “OH MY GOD!  When did you get in?  Did you get laid?  You’ve got the “freshly laid” look and I am all of the jealous.”

“Darce!”  Jane blushed, and Darcy nodded.

“Yep!  Got a right root, din’tcha?”  Darcy said in an atrocious Australian accent, and Jane laughed, her body shaking so hard she fell into Darcy’s guest chair.

“Yeh,” Jane managed to say in just as bad dialect.  “Sure did.” Both women dissolved in giggles. “An’ what about y’self?  Foine Sheila like you?”

“Alas, the dry spell continues. But things are looking…interesting,” Darcy offered before glancing at her watch.  “I’m still on the clock.  Listen, um, things are really interesting right now, but I can’t go into detail. Just…wait till five, okay?”

“No problem.  I just got in, and I wanted you to know I was home so when you came up you weren’t surprised,” Jane said.  “I’m exhausted, anyway.  StarkJets are faster than Quantas, but it’s still a heck of a long flight.”

“Right.  Go get some sleep, we can catch up later,” Darcy offered.

“Sure.  Hey, who’s the new guy?”  Jane asked, and Darcy blinked.  “Tall, dark hair, kind of longish, brown eyes?”

“And that’s one of the things we’re going to talk about,” Darcy said.  “Um.  He’s my bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?  What did you do while I was gone, Darce?”  Jane asked, and Darcy gave her a small smile.

“I…kind of started dating someone important?”

“Oh!  Is he hot?  Who is it? Do I know him?”  Jane gushed, and Darcy shook her head.

“I don’t think you’ve ever met, and I don’t know if he’s hot or not but I kind of -- you know, personality’s really important,” she said, and Jane pulled back, looking at her oddly.

“How do you not know whether the guy you’re dating is hot?”

“When he wears a mask.”

“You’re dating the Phantom of the Opera?”

“No.  I’m dating Victor von Doom.”

Jane blinked slowly a couple of times, opened her mouth and closed it again four times before finally getting some words out.  “Doctor Doom.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re dating Doctor Doom.”

“Yeah.”

“As in the dictator of Latveria, Doctor Doom.”

“Yeah.”  Jane blinked again, then nodded.

“Okay.  Um.  We’re gonna talk about this.  Right?”

“Right.  He likes your work,” Darcy said quickly.  “He really respects your work.”

“That’s…that’s…that’s actually flattering,” Jane admitted.  “But I don’t get why you need a bodyguard.”

“Because Latveria is helping Ukraine repel the New Soviet,” Darcy sighed.  “And helping guard Poland.  He thinks I’m in danger because we’ve been seen together.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Yeah, I can understand that, sure,” Jane replied, nodding slowly.  “Okay.  Um.  So I -- yeah.  I’m going to go have a nap, and then we’re going to talk about this later.”

“Absolutely,” Darcy nodded. “I promise.”

“Okay.”  Jane’s lips pressed together as she looked at Darcy.  “You know what you’re doing, right?”

“No, but that’s par for the course.  Also we’re mad at Steve,” Darcy said as she helped Jane up.

“We’re mad at Steve. Okay.  Why are we mad at Steve?”

“It’s related.”  Darcy walked Jane to the door of her office. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Jane agreed.  

Once Jane was safely out the door, Darcy went back to work, comparing the agreement with Vietnam with several others, concentrating on the reparations, replacement, and repair clauses. The agreements varied, as different countries had different needs and requirements and threat levels, but on the whole, they needed to offer the same thing; an offer of security and trust. Trust that the Avengers would do everything they could not to cause collateral damage.  Trust that they would fix anything they broke.  Trust that they would not go rogue.

Stark Enterprises offering to reimburse, replace, and repair things went a long way toward building that trust.  More, Plan Hippocrates and Plan Hades ensured that where things went wrong (as they would, unfortunately, sometimes they just couldn’t get there in time, and supervillains didn’t care about the cost in human life) they ensured that the survivors of the dead and the living were taken care of without costs to the governments.

She cut off at five as usual, gathered her things and went upstairs, dropping her bags on the easy chair and checking on Jane, first thing.  She was dead to the world, curled around her pillow, and Darcy grinned to herself, closing the door again softly before going to the kitchen and making dinner for two, sliding Jane’s back into the fridge for later.

She had just sunk into her book, Gavin de Becker’s “The Gift of Fear,” when someone tapped lightly on her door. “FRIDAY?”  She said softly.

“Mr. LeBeau, Miss Lewis,” came the answer, and Darcy got up to answer it.  Honestly, he looked yummy; black cotton clung to his torso like a second skin, and his jeans weren’t much better.  

“Cher,” he said softly. “The Avengers are being called out. Some sort of creature appearing in Holland, of all places.  May I?”

“Sure, just stay quiet,” Darcy murmured.  “Jane’s asleep.”

“Of course,” Remy agreed, and she let him in.

“You want coffee or a beer?”

“Coffee, please.  No drinking on the job,” he winked.  “How is my boss today?”

“He hasn’t called today,” Darcy said, leading the way to the kitchen, Remy right behind her after he locked the door.

“I thought he called every day?”

“Every morning, usually, yeah.” She poured coffee, added just a touch of cream, two tablespoons of sugar.  

“Huh.”  Remy’s dark eyes were shadowed as he took the cup from her. “Merci.”

“De rien.  No, he’s probably just busy, I mean, he’s trying to avert a world war, after all,” Darcy shrugged.  

“True,” Remy agreed, sitting down on the end of the couch closest to the door.  “You are taking it much better than I would have expected.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Darcy sighed, picking up her book.  “He’s the leader of a country, he’s trying to restructure his own government, and he’s at war, Remy.  I can’t just expect him to be at my beck and call during a crisis.”

“I agree.  He’s lucky to find such a level headed, lovely woman,” Remy grinned.  “If you could make etouffee, I’d find myself hard pressed not to give him a run for his money, cher.”

“I can make etouffee.  I just don’t, because it’s a giant pain in the ass,” Darcy countered.  “Shelling shrimp is not my favorite way to spend an afternoon, thanks.  You have seen the way people around here eat?”

“Be still my heart.  You make it the right way?  Homemade stock, even?”  Remy’s eyebrow rose, and Darcy laughed as he leaned toward her, giving her what was obviously supposed to be a seductive look.  “Cher.  Mon petit fille la belle, do you know what poor ol’ Remy would do for a decent bowl of etouffee?”

“No.  Nor do I want to,” she grinned.  “You want etouffee that bad, you know where to find it.”

“True,” he sighed, letting himself just fall onto the couch cushion between them rather than sit back up. “The problem is I can’t show my face down home a while longer yet.”

“Yeah.  Issues you don’t wanna talk about, I know.”

“Not don’t want to,” Remy corrected her.  “Can’t. It’s worth more than my life to talk about it.”

“Right.  But you know there’s restaurants here in New York that serve Creole and Cajun --“ she began, and stopped, watching his nose wrinkle up, his mouth twist.

“No.  ‘Less the chef is there, not worth my time, and besides, these days it’s just better to stay ‘round the Tower.  Maybe once your man gets his shit straightened out, might treat myself; there’s places in ‘Bama and Gulfport that are almost as good as Mama Pepper’s,” he sighed, drama leaking off of him like rain.

“Awww.  Ma pauvre petit,” Darcy teased.

“Don’t go stealin’ my lines,” he grinned up at her.  

“No, but do you know how to make it?”  She asked, and he sat up, crossing his arms and looking at her, chin drawn down almost to his chest, affronted.

“Of course!”

“Then maybe the next time you see Bonnie, you can go to hers and teach her how.  There’s you a cute date.”

“You’re a genius, Lewis,” he smirked in return.  “Maybe tomorrow.  Pardon me.” He slid his phone from his pocket and started texting, and Darcy returned to her book.  

  The Black Widow nodded a polite greeting to the generals and Doom as she entered the command center. Monitors covered one wall, each showing a different area of the battlegrounds, one mysteriously dark.

“Agent Romanoff,” a general said. “We are glad to have you here.”

“Thank you.  What information do you have regarding the anomaly?” She asked.  She had read the written debriefs and reports on the flight over, but she knew that they would have fresher information waiting.  She was not disappointed.

“Several drones sent footage,” Doom said, coming to stand beside her.  “Agent.”

“Lord Protector.”

The monitor flickered to life, showing first only a forest, the thick green leaves passing slowly before the camera, before it focused on a dirt track below.  Two more feeds opened to the side, and she watched as a solitary figure appeared in the distance, walking slowly but purposefully toward the cameras.  The bottom left focused, zoomed out, focused again on the stranger, and the Black Widow bit her lip.

Bright pale skin showed from the torso to the head; its hair, too, was white.  Red covered the abdomen, then suddenly unwrapped itself,  several tentacles unwinding, searching, before the camera died.  The same phenomena happened twice more, and the Black Widow’s shoulders stiffened as the monitor went black again.  

“Can you identify it, Agent Romanoff?”  A general asked, and she nodded, turning to face the men and women around her.

“It must be a clone,” she began. “Because its original form is dead. I know it to be dead.  Logan, better known as Wolverine, killed him several years ago.  That is a clone of Omega Red.  Because it is a clone, I’m not sure what powers it has, precisely.  The original mutant -- it was a mutant, enhanced by the Soviet government in the 1970s, given carbonadium tentacles to use as weapons and to enhance its own natural abilities.  It was inhumanly strong and fast.  It had a regeneration ability, and the ability to kill through secreting some sort of gas or emission into the air.  Again, I don’t know what sort of ability this has; clones are notorious for mutating beyond the original’s powers.”

The generals began speaking to one another, an excited hum rising through the air, and Black Widow turned to look up at Doom.  “You might be able to stop it.  But I don’t think any normal human could.”

“No.  They’ve lost four squads already trying to intercept it,” he replied. “It leaves a radioactive trail behind it, villages and small towns have been devastated, almost a 100 percent kill rate.  I intend to intercept it with a group of Doombots before the day is out.  Now that we know what it is, I can check my own records against what it has left behind to try to extrapolate what extra powers this version has.”

Widow nodded.  “That’s a very good idea.”

“Thank you.  I’m known to have them from time to time.”

“So you are.  And I take it I don’t have to give you the don’t do anything stupid speech?”  She asked, one eyebrow rising.  His answering chuckle was low and deep, almost a growl.  

“No, Agent Romanoff.  I will make no move until I am sure of the creature’s abilities and weaknesses,” he told her before stepping away, toward the generals.  “May I suggest that we speed up the evacuation efforts if possible?”  He offered.  “Let no more civilians die before we find a way to stop it.”

Black Widow observed him interacting with the generals and subordinates, silently reevaluating the man. Everything the Widow knew of Doom was being turned on its head.  Doom was traditionally a loner, often acting unilaterally when one could persuade him into acting for the good of humanity at all.  His ego was, like Namor’s, big enough to take on any challenge, and often only his sheer force of will had been the only thing to save him from certain death and/or destruction.

Widow had been ambivalent about his apparent change of heart.  Widow had been concerned when Darcy had expressed interest, her concern only growing when the interest appeared to be reciprocated.  However, Widow had withheld judgment.  Her slowly growing respect for the man had jumped dramatically when he had mentioned having Darcy protected.  Darcy was good.  Widow and ‘Tasha trained Darcy themselves, not willing to trust anyone else with their Kitten, save perhaps Clint.  But Widow was well aware that an enhanced human or a mutant could still easily overpower Darcy, so having Gambit show up had been a relief.  

Widow had to admit, she liked what she saw.  Doom seemed as if he wanted to ensure the safety of the civilians in Omega Red’s path. He seemed as if he were willing to wait for more intelligence regarding the clone’s powers.  While Widow was fairly certain he could squash Omega like a bug, still, caution being a watchword was not a bad thing.  

Widow conferred silently with Natasha, also watching.  Time would tell, they decided.  And until they had observed him longer, they could not tell his true intentions.  The armor was one of the barriers; they could not read his face or his body language properly.  

But this at least was a good start.  And he had to have some sort of tells.  They would find them.  They would memorize them.  And then, when at last Widow and Natasha saw him with Darcy, they would have some sort of measurement.  If he meant her well, fine and good.  Darcy as Queen of Latveria?  Widow and Natasha had no issues with that.  Darcy was clever and intelligent, and would likely be very good for the people.  If he meant anything else…well.  Widow knew several other people that would gladly help her avenge her Kitten.

[mechaspirit]

Christmas Wish (Part 1)

Author’s note: Alright, here’s my Christmas gift for @jakemckenzietrash. Thank you @choicessecretsanta for giving us a chance to do this. It wasn’t my best, but I did everything I can to incorporate the Christmas prompts you requested. Just make sure to know that there are two parts to this story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story and wish you a Merry Christmas!

Disclaimer: Definitely do not own any of the Choices books down below. Those are rightfully owned by Pixelberry.

Rated: T

Pairings: MCxJake, GracexAleister, CraigxZahra

Prompt: Opening presents during Christmas morning (Part 1) & first snow in the season (Part 2)

Part 2

Summary: Years after surviving and escaping La Huerta, the gangs gather around again to celebrate Christmas with each other. What will happened?

The presents are fun, but what really matters is being with your closest family and friends to celebrate this joyous occasion.

5…4…3…2…1…Ding!

As soon as the timer went off, Quinn quickly put on her over mittens and carefully open the oven door. From a safe distance, white smokes puffed out and behind them were trays full of cupcakes cooked to golden brown perfection. The redhead gently used a long, wooden skewer to poke the cupcakes, which was pulled out clean satisfying with her result.

“How did it go, Quinn?” Michelle asked her, as she’s finishing up with the frosting for the cupcakes.

“It’s perfect!” The red-headed angel chipped, “We just let them sit on the cooling rack and then decorate them afterward. In a meantime, we’ll work on the gingerbread house.”

“Got it,” the dark blonde hair woman replied before letting a sigh, “I’m praying that we’ll get everything done in time. It’s just…It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other and I want to make sure that everything is perfect for them. Especially on Christmas Day.”

Quinn smiled as she removed one of her gloves and wrapped her arm around the Vietnamese surgeon, “And it will be. Don’t worry, Meech. Everyone is going to be thrilled by the time all twelve of us are together. Just remember that.”

Michelle smiled a bit at the energetic ginger before frowning at an unwelcome sight nearby the kitchen counter where the ingredients and decorations for the gingerbread house are laid out. The dark blonde woman snatched a wooden spoon and whacked the thief’s hand away.

“OW!”

“Craig, how many times do I have to tell you to not paw on any unfinished desserts in the morning?!” Michelle yelled at the suspect.

“Aw, c’mon Meech. I’m only grabbing tiny candies and stuff!” Craig retorted.

“Nope. Never. Y’know Quinn and I need them. And in case you’ve forgotten, the guests are going to arrive at noon, so get your ass out to the living room and help out Sean and the others with the decorations! Or do I have to make you, myself?”

Not wanting to face another one of Michelle’s wrath of fury, Craig reluctantly submitted and dragged himself back into the living room to help out with the decorations. Quinn, on the other hand, is about to start decorating the desserts when all of a sudden, the doorbell rings.

“They’re here!”

Meanwhile…

“Get away from us, you scoundrel! Shoo!”

Right in front of Michelle’s house are Aleister trying to defend himself, his wife, and the gifts they were carrying from a fully grown black and white husky, who was running and jumping around them in excitement. When it looks like Aleister was about to drop the gifts, a loud whistle was heard.

“Ryo! Ryo, c’mere boy!”

The dog, now known as Ryo, turned around and head towards a familiar woman with blonde hair wearing a red coat and orange scarf. Right beside her is her friend with dark hair and skin wearing a black jacket over his purple shirt. From there, the woman knelt down as soon as Ryo came over, sat down, and beamed at his owner with excitement.

“Ryo, you silly dog. I told you not to run off and mess with Aleister like that,” she told him while scratching him behind the ears.

“Yurika, I would appreciate it if you keep that pet of yours under control!” Aleister yelled.

“Ahem. Aleister…” Grace gave her husband a warning looking, making the British man sweat and cleared his throat.

“Erm…Yurika, please make sure that dog of yours is behaving very well.”

“That’s better,” the bespectacled woman nodded with approval. Both Yurika and her best friend, Diego, laughed at the scene.

“Sorry about that. Ryo always get excited every time he meets new people,” the blonde woman said while she and Diego gave the couple friendly hugs (in which Aleister returned awkwardly), “It’s been so long. How’ve you two been?”

“Not to mention, we’ve heard that you’re having a new member to the family very soon, if you know what I mean!” Diego added excitedly. Grace responded by placing her hand over her baby bump fondly.

“Yes, of course. Aleister and I found out last month!”

“We were very nervous about having a child at first. Mostly I am,” Aleister admitted, “But at the same time, But at the same, we’re grateful to be given a chance to give a life our future child deserves...even after everything we’ve been through.”

Grace hugged her husband to the side while the others gave him reassuring glances, knowing what he was talking about. “Hey. All of that is over, Aleister. There’s nothing else to worry about except to look forward to the future,” Yurika told him, “And congratulations. You and Grace deserve to be happy.”

The married couple thanked Yurika for her kind words and blessing before heading towards the front door. The blonde turned to her friend, who seems to be staring at the sky, lost in thought.

“Something’s wrong?” She asked.

“Hmm? Oh! Nothing really,” Diego replied, “Just a little bummed out that there’s probably not going to be any snow this year. I’d give anything like to see that sign of miracle again.”

“Keyword. ‘Probably’,” Yurika quoted, “I wouldn’t count it out just yet, but hey. There’s something more important to look forward to during Christmas. Such as reuniting with our friends whom we haven’t seen for a long time.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Diego agreed before noticing something behind his best friend then up towards the ceiling of the porch, causing him to smirk, “Rika, you might want to turn around, cuz it looks like someone’s waiting for you under the mistletoe.”

Before she can react, someone grabbed Yurika by the shoulders and turned her around before pressing his lips fully on hers. Realizing who it was, Yurika melted into a kiss before stepping back to get a full view of the person.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?” she said, “I thought you’re not going to be here until later tonight.”

“If it weren’t for the fact that there’s a snowstorm prevent me to make flights to Alaska, then yeah, I probably wouldn’t,” Jake told her, “Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss spending a whole Christmas Day with ya, Princess.”

Yurika couldn’t hide her blush and her smile from her favorite pilot. Instead, she kissed him again, slightly parting her mouth open, granting his tongue access to meet hers. Unfortunately for them, Diego cleared his throat before this scene can turn into a make-out session.

“Um…guys? I’m in for romance and all, but we’re still here.”

“Arf!” Yurika’s dog barked in agreement, causing them to laugh. As they head inside, Yurika grabbed Jake by the arm and whispered to his ear in an almost seductive manner.

“Don’t worry, Top Gun. We can always pick this up again later tonight.” This caused the brunette to smirk.

“I’m holding up to that promise, Princess.”

“Cheers!

The twelve survivors of La Huerta clink their glass of the signature drinks Raj made for them and decided to chat with one another for a bit before starting the gift exchange for old times sake. Turns out that they are definitely enjoying each other’s company. From sharing congratulatory events to Sean’s and Craig’s football career, to sharing info about Aleister’s and Grace’s business comes companies, and to pestering Yurika and Jake about their wedding plans much to the newly engaged couple’s annoyance (Long story short, Jake proposed to Yurika couple weeks ago, which pretty much got everyone’s attention). It was only then that Michelle clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention so that they can do the Secret Santa.

Raj volunteered to be Santa and passed out the gifts one by one, in which they were unwrapped almost immediately by the receiver. Some of the gifts were quite nice, such as a sports jacket Yurika received from Sean and cosmetics products Grace received from Michelle. Quinn gave Estela a dragon plushie, and although the latter didn’t show it, she adores her gift and literally held on to it for the rest of party. Other’s were...interesting to say the least. Zahra received a talking teddy bear from Craig in which he purposely replaced the microphone that says “I love you” from the chest to the...ahem...crotch of the fluffy toy. Everyone else could’ve sworn Zahra was gonna punch the lights out of the dumb jock, but instead, she laughed and called Craig an “idiot” and gave him a slight hug and, uncharacteristically, a kiss as a thank you. Aleister, for some odd reason, got a cologne with a panther on top from Zahra and the scent was too strong for his liking. Jake’s gift for Diego was more of a prank because it involves telling the latter that he only has seven days to live after showing him a video camera with “Sadako” on it. Realizing where the pilot got the idea from, this lead to Diego yelling/crying at Yurika “why did you tell him about that prank?!”

But everyone can agree Quinn enjoyed her gift the most, which is from Raj. By the time the mixologist gave her a box with a bow on it and let her open it, Quinn squealed in excitement and gently lifted up an adorable, white puppy who’s wagging its tail looking back at her affectionately. Turns out that Quinn misses Furball back at La Huerta, so Raj her a dog as a gift so that she can have a furry companion. As a result, red-headed angel gave Raj a hug as a thank you showing that it was one of the best gifts anyone could’ve given her. Quinn even allowed Ryo to become the puppy’s new playmate.

Everyone was having a great time and the party went on without a hitch. However…there is one setback that affected one person.

“So Quinn, are your parents are doing okay with… you know, each other?” Grace asked.

“Well, at least they aren’t constantly fighting and hating each other again, now that my illness is cured,” Quinn reply while petting her new dog, “But I guess old wounds die hard since they have hard times being next to each other. I am planning on heading back home again just to see if they any trouble mending their relationships.”

“Speaking of family visits, Craig, aren’t you and your family heading to Taiwan so you could see your relatives,” Sean asked his close friend.

“Yeah, bro. It’ll be nice to see them again,” Craig answered, “And I think Joey is more excited than I am since most of our cousins are around his age and they’re always fun to hang out with.”

The conversation about their families goes on, and one person in the room doesn’t seem to be enjoying it. Or rather, she can never bring herself to join into the conversations and clench her fists tightly together, hoping no one would ask her about her past. Instead, Yurika sat in silence while half-heartedly listening through the conversations as those uncomfortable feelings started eating her away.

[bonnieberries]

woman in doubt

little jon/sansa fic, for how i imagine their reunion might be like. or a fic that shows jon and sansa’s relationship through dany’s eyes.

When Daenerys finally arrives in the North, she finds Winterfell sorely disappointing.

It’s dark, looming towers surrounded by black trees and ice give an aura of unforgiving chill and rigidness. When she says as much to Jon Snow, he gives her a short bark of laughter. “Yes, your Grace, it is so different from the warmth and comfort of Dragonstone, wouldn’t you say?”

To her side, Tyrion attempts (and then fails) to muffle a snicker and she shoots him a dark glare.

Yes, it’s true the ruins of Dragonstone, haunted by ghosts of the past are no better than Winterfell’s stone walls. She only meant that with the way Jon Snow had been speaking of the North with near worship in his eyes and voice for the past few weeks, she expected a lush castle full of life that would inspire such devotion from an unusually cold and sullen man.

Even now, as they approach the walls, Jon Snow looks up at the towers with a hint of a smile on his lips. A smile! She had begun to worry his range of emotions only consisted of sullen anger and melancholy brooding. The ‘King’ in the North unnerves her, to say the least. He is steadfast in his opinion that the North should remain independent, and any attempts (whether subtle or overt) to sway him are useless. Any man would have fallen for either her charms or been cowed by her dragons, by now, but not Jon Snow, and it has left her at a loss. He has such an unwavering devotion to House Stark and their place in the North, one would think he was a trueborn son, and not a bastard.

Daenerys has heard bits and pieces of the Starks through stilted conversations between Jon and Tyrion. She herself, has enquired about them before, but he is always reluctant to divulge information.

Tyrion had told her, House Stark had their own share fair of tragedies, and only Jon and one trueborn daughter remained. Rickon was the youngest and he and his elder brother Bran, a cripple, were killed years ago.There was Arya, Jon’s favorite, she surmised, as he spoke of her the most fondly. But, she too, had met a tragic end by the Lannister’s hands.Robb Stark and his mother had died attempting to avenge their family. Sansa Stark was the lone survivor of her family, but Jon spoke the least of her. Tyrion surmised this was because the siblings privately warred behind their united front as King in the North and Lady of Winterfell. Varys had agreed, It’s only reasonable to assume, Your Grace, he had said, Sansa Stark is the trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark, yet her bastard brother was crowned. I can only imagine there is a deep bitterness within the girl.

If that was so, Daenerys couldn’t help but sympathize with Sansa Stark. If she had a bastard brother and he had assumed the Iron Throne ahead of her, only because he had a cock in between his thighs, she would set Drogon on him in a heartbeat.

Daenerys is intrigued by the Lady of Winterfell, an unknown figure, she has yet to meet. Perhaps the key to obtaining the North is not with Jon Snow, but with Sansa Stark, and the rift between the two half-siblings. She thinks herself rather crafty, and tucks that thought away. It is something she will have to explore at the castle, when she finally meets the Lady of Winterfell.

When they come to the gates of Winterfell, the posted soldiers recognize their King immediately and snap to attention.

“Your Grace,” the man stammers, “We did not expect you for another week.” There were no ravens sent to Winterfell, in their haste to make it up North. News of the ever-weakening wall, and pressure from Cersei’s army had all but forced Daenerys and Jon to make a hasty retreat.

“Aye, please wake and inform Lady Sansa of my arrival.” Jon says wearily, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. “Tell her, I come with Queen Daenerys and Lord Tyrion.”

One of the soldiers, makes haste to deliver the news, while the other soldiers pale at their king’s words and their eyes harden as they finally see Daenerys underneath her heavy furs. She can practically see the anger crawling underneath their skin. Tyrion had warned her, of course. The North remembers.

The gates of Winterfell open, and Jon dismounts his horse to lead it in. Daenerys is struck once more by how at ease the King is, now that he is at home. On the other hand, Daenerys has never felt so uncomfortable or out of place as she has in Winterfell.

Her finery, which she wore as a means of intimidation and as a display of confidence, is hidden behind a coarse fur cloak, she had no choice but to wear in the biting cold. Her dragons, which she had agreed to keep away from Winterfell, per Jon Snow’s insistence, provide her with no means of defense or empowerment. Even her usual retinue of advisors and soldiers are absent and the realization of how vulnerable she is within the cold walls of this castle sends a flare of panic through her.

Tyrion somehow senses her panic and he pulls his horse next to hers as they enter into the castle courtyard. “Do not fret, Your Grace.” he murmurs. “The Northerners love their king. Jon Snow says no harm will come to us, and they will do as he says.”

And Tyrion, is once again right. She sees the look of adoration upon both servants and soldiers alike for their king. Jon greets his subjects with a firm nod, there is no demand for fealty for it is freely given to him. Doubt gnaws at her insides, and the grey Stark banners hanging from the walls are a burning reminder that she is a foreigner, a stranger, in this territory.

“Jon!”

Daenerys only sees a flash of flaming red hair before Jon is embraced by a woman, nearly knocking him off his balance. The woman is taller than him, but he easily returns the embrace, nearly lifting her a couple inches off the ground with a slight chuckle. The familiarity with which the two greet each other, can only mean that this woman is-

“Sansa,” The King breathes. His eyes crinkle as he freely gives a smile to his half-sister, the famed Lady of Winterfell.

She is not at all what Daenerys had imagined her to be. Somehow, she pictured Sansa Stark to be a small woman with Jon’s dark curls and solemn expression. Tyrion only mentioned her to be the embodiment of absolute grace and a perfect lady. However, the woman in front of her belies that very description. A silk robe peeks out of her thick fur coat, haphazardly thrown on, no doubt, when she heard the news of her brother’s arrival. Her fiery hair whips around her face, free from the constraints of the traditional Northern style, so many of the women here favor.

Dany realizes with a start that she has caught Sansa Stark in a moment of vulnerability, a rare moment where she has shed her title of ‘Lady of Winterfell and right now is only a sister, overjoyed to see her brother. Even that, however, seems like an oversimplification. There is something deeper lurking there.

Jon begins to enquire of Sansa’s well-being, Winterfell’s state, and other inane chatter that fades away to a dull hum. It is not what is said, that is important, but rather their actions. Tyrion and Varys had believed their united front to be a facade, but they could not have been more wrong. From the way, Lady Stark hurriedly calls for a warm bath to be drawn for Jon, to how Jon quickly drops a kiss atop his sister’s head to thank her for doing so, it’s all so genuine. Suddenly, she’s years younger, and she can hear Viserys’ harsh threats to punish her. Her throat feels thick, and jealousy unfurls in her stomach.

“Your grace?” Tyrion’s voice nudges at her, and brings her out of her reverie with a start.

She realizes now, that the Starks have finished greeting each other, and now look at her, expectantly. Her cheeks burn, “Yes?”

Jon Snow clears his throat, “This is my sister, Princess of Winterfell, Sansa Stark.”

The princess gives a perfect curtsey, as though she were wearing a gown spun of gold, and not her night clothes. Her beautiful features smooth into a practiced, genial expression. “It is quite the honor to meet you, Queen Daenerys. I hope my brother, King Jon, has been good company. He is an excellent ruler and fighter, but a poor conversationalist, I’m afraid.”

Daenerys is thrown by her teasing tone, but Lady Stark’s words are not completely harmless and vapid. She has addressed Daenerys by her proper title, but also made sure to emphasize her brother’s as well. In addition, she’s managed to show their united front and her faith in her brother’s abilities without appearing boastful. In just a few sentences, Sansa Stark has made it clear, she is anything but a vapid woman, if anything, she is the reason Jon Snow stands as King.

“He was fine company.” She replied, shortly. “I hope you have not been too overwhelmed in your brother’s absence, acting as his regent.”

“I sorely missed him.” Lady Stark, replies sweetly. “I’m afraid the nuances of politics and court handlings are often lost on me.”

Daenerys’ eyes narrow. She doubts this very much. Tyrion clear his throat, “Lady Sansa, I trust you are well?”

She nods warmly. “Yes, I’m glad to see you using your abilities in a more deserving role. It seems our time away from King’s Landing has been kind to the both of us.” Her eyes widened as she remembered something. “Ah! My apologies, you must be so cold, Brienne can show you to the Great Hall, a meal will be prepared very shortly for you. Your rooms are being prepared as we speak right now, I hope you’ll forgive the wait.”

“Will you be joining us?” Tyrion asks.

Lady Stark shakes her head, “I have some matters I would like to attend to with the King. In his absence, he has missed much.”

Daenerys’ violet eyes flick over to Jon Snow, who cannot hide his relief. “If you’ll excuse us.” he nods, before taking his sister’s arm, and the two depart. A deep sense of dread settles in her stomach as she watches their retreating figures. When all is said and done, she fears the Starks may be her greatest obstacle to uniting the Seven Kingdoms.

[raevylle]

Chapter 1: The Massacred Convoy

Session 1 - 12/1/2020 In-game date: September 3rd, 36 TE. Raevyn had made her way through the forest, looking for the main road to the city of Nisher. When all of a sudden, the smell of iron hit her. She made her way to the main road, only to find a horrible road massacre. There were bodies all over the place, two carts and four horses. She checked one of the bodies and they were still warm. It didn’t happen that long ago. This is when one man came crawling from under a horse. ‘’Please help me, Miss,’’ he said. Raevyn jumped backward and hid behind a rock. ‘’How can I help?’’ she asked the man. She helped him sit straight against the rock and took off her cloak. ‘’Keep this pressed against the wound to stop the bleeding.’’  The man told her that people with purple cloaks ambushed the carts with arrows and fire. He told her that there was an elder gentleman as well, but that he escaped into the forest. Raevyn nodded and asked the man to hang on while she was going to calm one of the horses to ride him to safety. The horse didn’t calm down and she could hear noises from the other side of the road. Another cart arrived to the scene. She tried to hide in the cart she was in since she didn’t know who these new arrivals were. ‘’We can’t make it to Nisher if the road is blocked, we need to clear the road.’’ said an older man. Three figures stepped out of the cart and made their way to the massacre. A dwarf, a halfling and a drow. The drow walked over and noticed that all the people in the purple cloaks didn’t seem to bleed. He kneeled down and turned one of the purple cloaks over. The body was half-decayed and purple lights shone in the eye sockets of the man. It reached out and scratched the drow. Then the rest of the purple cloaked corpses started to stand up. They made weird gurgling noises, like someone’s windpipe was crushed and tried to breathe. The trio started to fight these corpses while Raevyn was still in the cart, confused as to why they started to attack survivors since she didn’t see the decaying state they were in. She cast Mage Armour on herself and jumped out of the cart and waved her arms to the trio. ‘’Stop attack survivors!’’ which the red-headed halfling replied to with ‘’Lady, they are undead!’’ as she was slicing them up with her scimitar. The drow used some sort of Divine Magic to light up two of the corpses. The dwarf seemed to wield a battle-axe. They looked like a force sent out by the Divine Order, something Raevyn was very scared of. It was commonly known that the Arcane and Divine had been at war for quite some time now. Raevyn didn’t have that much time to react to them since one of the undead jumped from on top of the cart towards her. She quickly got surrounded by 4 of them. She had to be careful to use magic in plain sight, so she took advantage of the coverage the undead provided her and sleight-of-hand cast Misty Step. She was now hiding behind a bush off the road. The trio kept fighting off the undead and some of the corpses burst out into fire and light. Raevyn took this time to cast Disguise Self on her since she was pretty certain they weren’t close enough to actually see what she looked like. Her father always told her ‘’The art of being invisible is sometimes just blending in with the crowd.’’ She changed her elven ears to human ears, her dark blue hair to black and her skin a bit dirtier. She looked more like a civilian now. She took out her dagger and ran towards the trio to help them out. The halfling lady quickly pushed her aside and told Raevyn to just hide and let them handle this. After all, she was just a civilian. Raevyn hid behind a tree again, waiting for the trio to finish off the last undead. When the fight was over, Raevyn came out of hiding and thanked the trio for what they did. The dwarf made a comment about ‘the wee-lass’ is not that useful there. Raevyn apologized and told the three that she was just a farmer’s girl trying to make her way to Nisher safely. She wasn’t much of a fighter. She then remembered the man she tried to help and rushed over to him. He seemed to have died while they were fighting the undead. The drow gave them an order to check the rest of the corpses if there were any survivors left. Raevyn nodded and said she was able to do that. The dwarf and the halfling joined up to push the carts and horses off the road. Raevyn was checking the pulses of the corpses but also looting whatever coin they had on their body. She was pretty certain that no one had seen her do this. The older man she heard earlier came to the scene and started to pick up some of the weapons and armor of the bodies. ‘’That will sell good!’’ he said. Raevyn looked over at the man and asked who these people actually were. ‘’Oh I am Frederick’’ the man replied ‘’and these are Arati, Gofannon, and Vieryn. I met them yesterday as they were asking for passage to Nisher.’’ he pointed at the halfling lady, dwarven & drow men. The drow man known as Vieryn walked over to Raevyn and bowed forward to whisper in her ear. ‘’Maybe you should give some of that coin you collected to me?’’ he stared at her with an intense gaze. She felt a bit intimidated and gave him two silver coins. He seemed to be satisfied with it. He walked off towards the carts and started to inspect them. Raevyn went to the back cart and found a smaller box, something that looked like a jewelry box. If there were jewels in there it could sell for a bit of gold in Nisher. She decided to hide it in her bag. After inspecting the cart fully she didn’t find anything else. However, in the other cart, they found barrels and sacks that seemed to have a double floor in them. They inspected them all and in one of the barrels, they found a tube. There was an old scorched scroll in there, but there was nothing written on it. In one of the bags of grain, they found a stone tablet. It depicted angels, demons and people smithing a weapon. On the tablet, it said the words ‘’Renewed shall be the blade that was broken.’’ The trio hid these things, Raevyn being unaware they found it. After inspecting everything, they left for Nisher. During the ride to Nisher, the disguise of Raevyn is wearing off, so she is stealthily renewing the cast. Frederick was driving the cart, Gofannon seemed to be sleeping, Arati was on one of the horses that road next to the cart and Vieryn was sitting slightly in front of her. He seemed to notice some light source coming from behind him. ‘’Were you lighting a fire?’’ he asked, cautiously turning around. Raevyn lied that it was just the sun reflecting on her necklace, but the sun never really shines in Avarra. Vieryn asked her a couple of questions, curious about who she was and where she is going. She told him she is just a farmer's girl who is in search of her father. He never returned from his trip so she is now going to Nisher to get some supplies for the road. Vieryn squinted his eyes at her but didn’t ask anymore. Obviously, there was something with this girl. After two hours of driving they reach the city gate of Nisher. The guards ask each of them for their names and to state their business in the city of Nisher. Gofannon and Viery swindle the guards with a bit of coin, not giving them their full name or information. The guards seem to be a bit more cautious about the drow. Arati gets greeted by the guards, she seems to know these people already. Although the guards did look at her cautiously. Raevyn told them her full name, Raevyn Arcadia. It wasn’t the first time she was in Nisher after all. Nisher was a city of roughly 21.000 people. It has cobblestone roads and small high build houses. It looks very medieval. Around Nisher is a river that works as a natural defense. At the edge of the city, you can see a high building, the more fancy area. Assumingly the ruling house of Nisher lives there. Fredrick takes the cart and drops the trio & Raevyn off at the town square. ‘’Meet me here tomorrow morning at 10, we will be heading for Avarra City then. If you are not here, I will leave without you.’’ Fredrick makes his way into the city and the others are left to their own. They decide to look for an appraiser. They find someone that does jewelry but not someone that specifically does scrolls. Raevyn comes with the idea to go to her favorite book store. It is a small store called ‘’Deidre’s Dusty Tomes’’. It is run by an older lady called Deidre. They go inside the store and Deidre greets Raevyn. ‘’Oh, I have something for you, some research for the things you write.’’ Deidre hands over a copy of the romance novel ‘Tusk Love’ in a cover of ‘The various plants of Avarra’. Raevyn hides it away before anyone can see. Deidre than attends to the trio to inspect their scroll. She says it is empty and that it looks old, looking at the metal binder the scroll was on. She says we might want to take this to the ‘Golden Grimoire’ in Avarra city. It is in the southern part and you can recognize it by the golden dragon sign outside the store.  They leave her store and make plans for what is next. Arati says she wants to cash in her bounty at the Town Hall. Raevyn asked what the bounty was for, cautious about them being mage hunters. Arati tells her that it is for a monster she has slain. Raevyn sighs relieved and join Arati to the Town Hall. Maybe there is someone there that can help her with the search of her father.

[moonshroooms]

Unusual Asks

Yep, I’m in that mode again. Time to answer questions about myself that literally no one asked for :D

If someone finds this in the deep ocean blue and wants to answer the same questions, I found them here

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?

Pandora, I guess? But I don’t really use any of them. I only tried Pandora for a time because it told you what genre the music is, and that was how I learned I listened to completely random and unrelated songs

is your room messy or clean?

Yes.

It’s messy, but it’s only dirty clothes really? So the second we do a major Laundry Sweep it suddenly becomes clean.

what color are your eyes?

Brown baby come an get dat chocolatttte

do you like your name? why?

Yes, because it’s tomboyish. When I was younger for some reason I really liked my friend’s name Emily, and wished that was my name instead. As I got older I liked my name more and more. I also love the 30 bajillion nicknames my name comes with. And I love my nickname Moon simply because from that nickname are 30 bajillion more nicknames.

what is your relationship status?

Single and deathly afraid of romance probs

describe your personality in 3 words or less

0-100 spaz

what color hair do you have?

Black hair :3

what kind of car do you drive? color?

It’s a sentra because they get good gas mileage and I’m cheap and it’s a darkish red, cause it’s the only color they had

where do you shop?

Food Banks

how would you describe your style?

Don’t Notice Me Anyone I’m Just a Background Character

favorite social media account

I hate social media when I know people, so tumblr, because screaming into a void where I’m not known is fun. It’s like having an imaginary argument in your shower

what size bed do you have?

Twin

any siblings?

Three of them! Two half-sisters, and a half-brother, all older :3

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?    

With my friends

favorite snapchat filter?

Pfffft I’m an antisocial dweeb and never bothered with snapchat because my phone is old and I rarely take pictures of myself or share pictures of anything else I capture

favorite makeup brand(s)

I don’t wear makeup, so none VwV

how many times a week do you shower?

Once a week if I haven’t done anything that makes me gross. Maybe 3 times a week if I went jogging and got all sweaty

favorite tv show?

Steven Universe, Last Airbender, Amazing World of Gumball, Star vs.

shoe size?

6 ½

how tall are you?

5”2

… and ½

sandals or sneakers?

w a t e r  s h o e s

do you go to the gym?

No, I hate the gym. The air in there gives me a headache, everyone’s staring at you doing everything wrong, there’s people in general, and I just no. I like to work out either in the privacy of my room or out in nature (aka I started jogging at my library park and I’m very proud of myself hopefully I keep this up).

describe your dream date

A date that treats me nice and we have a good time    

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

13 bucks

what color socks are you wearing?

My skin

how many pillows do you sleep with?

Uhhhh. 2 for my head, 2 to hug, a beanie-filled duck thing, and also my cats old blanket. So like. 4 pillows if you wanna get technical, 6 if let’s be honest the duck and blanket act as pillows

do you have a job? what do you do?

I do. I clean trays and do numerous odd jobs for an oral surgeon’s office. It’s literally a part time job the employees often have their teens do. But it’s something for now

how many friends do you have?

7. The seventh one I just made recently, and it’s still sort of iffy if we’ll actively be friends. We’ve known each other for years, and she’s called me her friend before, but we’ve never like. Hung out, or talked literally ever. But I’ve always thought she seemed like a cool person and someone I wanted to be friends with, and sometime last month or so (she was staying on our couch due to family complications) I outright told her “Hey, you seem like a cool person, and I’d love to be better friends with you J” and by some miracle that WORKED. She called me a nerd for that and we’ve saw Wonder Woman with our moms. I lent her a book from the library (The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale, wonderful book, literally the first in my favorite book series!), and she’s really loving it so far! We’re gonna hang out Sunday, so hopefully we click well and I truly will have successfully made my first friend where I was the one who approached!

whats the worst thing you have ever done?

One time when I was younger I had a fight with my mom. Recalling correctly, I was upset that she ‘loved God more than me’ and during that fight she ‘let go’ and said that I was more important to her. Immediately afterwards I made her take it back, and apologized profusely, and never said anything about her feeling God was more important ever again. And she forgave me, because that’s the kind of person she is, but I still feel like shit for it, and I’m so sorry I ever made her say that, whether she meant it or not. I feel so guilty about it even today. She told me that night that she let go so she could grab onto me and save me from drowning, and that even if she had let go, God would have never let her go, and he would save the both of us. I still wish I could make it so I’d never said that.

whats your favorite candle scent?

MMmmm, I dunno. Do they have cherry blossom? Cause that one

3 favorite boy names

Devon (Deh-von), Aiden (Ay-den), and uhhhh? Naruto. (Nar-oo-toe)

3 favorite girl names

Astrid (totally from Phantom Hourglass), Anaise (yes that’s from the Amazing World of Gumball I fell in love the second I heard it), aaaaaand ermmmmmm. Buzz Lightyear

favorite actor?

Will Smith? Morgan Freeman? Yeah, let’s go with them

favorite actress?

Will Smith? Morgan Freeman? Yeah, let’s go with them

who is your celebrity crush?

Me™

favorite movie?

Bambi, Jumanji, Jurassic Park, Pirates of the Carribean

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book?

I do, I do!! I love Forest Born from Shannon Hale’s Books of Bayern! It’s the 4th and last book in her series, and I love it so much! I recommend it for everyone! Adventure, fantasy, a little bit of romance, fun, and honest-to-god you feel like you’re in an old folk tale the whole time. It’s all a beautiful series.

money or brains?

Brains

do you have a nickname? what is it?

Moon, Moo, Moonmoon, Moonie

how many times have you been to the hospital?

A lot for reasons

top 10 favorite songs

Fireflies by Owl City

Last Unicorn by America (yes, from the movie the Last Unicorn)

Tabi no Tochuu by Kiyoura, Natsumi (aka the Spice and Wolf Season 1 Theme)

Something Entire New from Steven Universe

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing by Set It Off

I Ship It by Not Literally (An ‘I Don’t Care’ parody, it’s hilarious and I love it, please go listen to it)

Blue Lips by Regina Spektor

Miss Jackson by Panic! At the Disco

E.T. by Katy Perry (I’m not even sure why I like this one so much, but I dooooo)

Girl with One Eye by Florence and the Machine

do you take any medications daily?

I do, antidepressants, which I started maybe 1 or 2 months ago after people suggesting I take medication for years

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

Perfect™

No but I guess it’s fine? I live in a dry area, but my skin isn’t dried out at all, even before I put lotion on constantly. The crown of my forehead/my nose get a bit oily, but splashing my face every morning basically takes care of that. I feel kind of bad for saying I don’t really have any skin problems

what is your biggest fear?

My loved ones hating me, dying, or being hurt from my own inept, or me being unable to help them

how many kids do you want?

Two. One boy, one girl (or if one wants to change/be whatever gender later in life I really don’t care). One that’s mine genetically, one I’ve adopted. Before I would have preferred giving birth to a boy since Devon was always my favorite boy name (and my only favorite name period), but with my sister being pregnant recently I’ve randomly thought about girl names as well so now I’m chill with having a boy or girl first so I can name them either Devon or Anaise/Astrid. God forbid I have twins that are both boys/girls since A) twins run in my family, and B) I’m having only two kids period so if I got twin boys/girls then that’s it I’m done that’s the end for me

whats your go to hair style?

Two French braids that stay in my head for the whole week

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)

It’s an apartment, so small

who is your role model?

My old cat Princess

what was the last compliment you received?

I legit don’t remember, but probably my mom telling me I’m gorgeous. Thanks mom, love you!

what was the last text you sent?

Me sending my group chat this

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

You think I put a date on that ish?? I dunno, I think I was still in my old house, so anywhere from 6-8 maybe?

what is your dream car?

A car that has no pollution/carbon footprint, runs on sunlight and electricity, and is reliable, also it doubles as a stray cat home that doesn’t kill them if I turn it on

opinion on smoking?

My entire older family (aunts, uncles, cousins, older brother/sister), smoked. My aunt is a cancer survivor and STILL smokes. My brother and sisters father died from lung cancer. My mother’s parents died from lung cancer. My father smokes (yet expects to live to 100???). My mother is probably the only person in her immediate family that was completely disgusted by smoking. My brother and sister vape now, in their attempt to quit, but my sister would take a hit of our aunts cigarettes every now and then. I hate smoking. It kills. It’s addictive. It’s a waste of your money and brain power. What’s worse is the people (like my sister and aunt), who don’t give a fuck if it will kill you down the road because, according to my sister, “once you reach like, 70, the fun parts over, now you start dying anyways”. Fuck you. What about everyone you’re leaving behind? FUCK you. If you get cancer it’s not just you that’s affected, it’s everyone you love and care about. Your parents, your siblings, your friends, your children. They don’t want to see you die like this, decrepit, and weak. They want to see you healthy, and having fun, and HAPPY. Do they really mean so little to you that you would LITERALLY KILL YOURSELF just because of a 2-minute dopamine rush? I hate people like that. I will never date someone who smokes. That is 100% a deal breaker. I will never, EVER go through what my mother went through with her husband, and what so many others must have gone through.

My opinion on smoking is that it needs to be buried, like all the people it’s already killed.

do you go to college?

I do! I just finished my first semester (just English 101 for my first semester), with flying colors! 940/1000 points!

what is your dream job?

Anything with animals and where I can make a difference in the animal community

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?

Rural areas. I hate the city and people

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?

100% I paid a shit ton of money for this room and you don’t even provide free snacks. I brought my own shampoo/condition but you can bet your ass I’m taking all of theirs

do you have freckles?

Yes? No? Does it count if it’s like, one freckle? It’s not a cluster of freckles, but I have a lot of freckle-spots on the right side of my face, random other parts of my face, and various other parts of my body (and one where like, my dude the sun don’t shine there how’s you get there???)            

do you smile for pictures?

Absolutely!

how many pictures do you have on your phone?

Currently? I dunno, 100 or so?

have you ever peed in the woods?

100%

do you still watch cartoons?

Absolutely, they’re way more entertaining than anything else anyways

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?

Wendy’s

Favorite dipping sauce?

Good ol’ ketchup

what do you wear to bed?

Mismatching pajamas, and gorgeous dark blue blue shirt and blue leopard spot Victoria’s Secret pajamas that came with a matching eyemask that my aunt got me for Christmas and they have a cute shirt cut, the pants make me look curvy, I look damn good in them, they’re my favorite color, and most importantly they have POCKETS and it’s literally my favorite pair of pajamas I love them

have you ever won a spelling bee?

No, but I was in a spelling bee! Literally no idea how I got in, I think the best speller of each class was just. Automatically put in? I was naturally good at spelling and randomly got in the spelling bee, was terrified of being on stage, and got my first word wrong because the fuck? How did I get in this?? I’m 9, I’m not studying for this get me off this Awful Stage stop looking at me

what are your hobbies?

Writing, drawing, video games, teasing my cats, roleplaying, and hiking if I was anywhere away from the city

can you draw?

Yes!

do you play an instrument?

Does my voice count?

what was the last concert you saw?

Hilary Duff, when I was like 12. First and only concert I’ve ever seen in my life. Almost the best night of my tiny 12 year old life, but my friend’s mom was a dick and told me to calm down when I was screaming, singing, and cheering, and I spent the rest of the concert sitting in my seat and feeling embarrassed and awkward. Who the fuck tells a 12 year old to calm down when she’s at her first concert with her best friend with their favorite artist in the world??? You’re a fucking dick biscuit, Friend’s Mom.

tea or coffee?

W a t e r

I hate both of those. Though peppermint tea is okay, not that I’d drink it outside of being sick

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

Starbucks, but only for a cinnamon twist pastry thingy

do you want to get married?

I do!

what is your crush’s first and last initial?

I have never had a crush for realsies, only an ‘lol I thought I had a crush but nevermind’

are you going to change your last name when you get married?

If my name sounds good with their last name, yes. If not, sorry honeycakes, I’m keeping my name. They’re more than welcome to change their last name if they so choose.

what color looks best on you?

White, black, red

do you miss anyone right now?

Princess, my old cat

And Fern and Thatcher, my best friends

do you sleep with your door open or closed?

Closed, because I don’t want my kittens to get in. I used to sleep with it open exclusively so my old cat Princess could get in and out

do you believe in ghosts?

Sure

what is your biggest pet peeve?

Self-righteous people

last person you called

My mom’s case manager

favorite ice cream flavor?

Cookie dough without chocolate chips

regular oreos or golden oreos?

ReGuLaR

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?

NO!!!!!!!!!

what shirt are you wearing?

Black superman shirt I wear for pjs

what is your phone background?

My old cat Princess

are you outgoing or shy?

Shy, unless I’m around people I’m comfortable with. Then I’m shy but a bit more sociable

do you like it when people play with your hair?

Oh god yes. I want to fall asleep if I ever have someone doing my hair and it’s at the Not Ripping Out Your Hair part. God it feels great. Tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if that was a turn on for me

do you like your neighbors?

Hell no they’re all awful

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

In the morning. And “wash” is a bit formal, my face-washing is more of a splash-your-face-wake-up-you-lazy-bastard kind of washing. Sometimes I splash it a few times to wake myself up more or take some oil off the oilier parts of my face, but I rarely/never use facewash or anything. It’s just water.

have you ever been high?

Nope

have you ever been drunk?

Nu-uh

last thing you ate?

Some cheap microwave chimichanga

favorite lyrics right now

Why not let me win? – You can’t dodge forever. Even if the pain is more fun together! You know I will just reset and come back newer :) and with every try I’m getting even faster than you are.

summer or winter?

Summer, if I can actually go outside and enjoy it and am not trapped in my black scrubs all day. Winter if I can look out the window and enjoy it

day or night?

Night

dark, milk, or white chocolate?

White chocolate when paired with other things, milk chocolate when by itself

favorite month?

April

what is your zodiac sign

Scorpio!

who was the last person you cried in front of?

My mom

[severelytrashykids-blog]

kooks ( @noveltymemes ) tagged me so imma ans, under cut

1. are you named after someone

no, my mom came up w my name like two days before my birth

2. when was the last time you cried

last friday, 03.02.17 (european dates, dd.mm.yy)

3. do you like your handwriting

idk, it does its purpose. i can read it, although some irl friends of mine find it,, difficult. 

4. what is your favorite lunch meat

whats... lunch meat?? i eat oatmeal for most of my lunches

5. do you have kids no 6. if you were another person, would you be friends with you yeah probably, if i met me as i am today. 7. do you use sarcasm yeah but not that much..

8. do you still have your tonsils im not sure what those r n im afraid to google it, so im going with yes 9. would you bungee jump no, but id probably be willing to skydive? 10. what is your favorite kind of cereal YOUD TINK ITD BE OATMEAL (its not, i like cheerios, weetabix and puffed rice more, but i dont wanna bring milk every day to school or buy it, boiled water is free) 11. do you untie your shoes every time you take them off no if i have laced shoes ill tie em a bit loose so i can slip in and out of em easily. i avoid laced shoes like the plague tho, pain in the ass 12. do you think you’re a strong person thats a very vague question. physically, my arms are weak but i have rather strong legs(thighs, mainly). mentally, sure, but everyone has their bad days.  13. what is your favorite ice cream flavor anything chocolate, usually. though at the top of my list are the lemon, passionfruit and green apple sorbet icecreams from this small icecream ‘cafe’ close to my school. 14. what is the first thing you notice about people

irl its usually the hair, eyes, facestructure n clothes, online its,, vibes?

15. red or pink

pink is my fave color, so that.

16. what is the least favorite physical thing you like about yourself

depends on if i have a good or bad day. some days i love every part of my body, other days i find “problem-areas” everywhere.

17. what color pants and shoes are you wearing right now dar blue jeans and im not wearing shoes but im wearing very big white cozy socks 18. what was the last thing you ate chocolate sauce. 19. what are you listening to right now nothing right now, though laely ive been v into razika and muse. 20. if you were a crayon, what color would you be prolly like,, a peachy pink, bcz my skin is v pink/red-ish 21. favorite smell chocolate, warm yummy food when im hungry, smell of dog, smell of fire 22. who was the last person you spoke to on the phone my stepdad, he was late w picking me up from the trainstation. 23. favorite sport to watch i dont watch much sports, but i like dogshows, horseshows, dance and figure skating ( i did like that before yuri on ice, thank you) 24. hair color sandy/chocolate brown  25. eye color to be discussed (green/blue/grey) 26. do you wear contacts i wish but my eyedoctor told me my eyeids are too strong so itll only hurt... its not every day you hear you have ‘muscular eyelids’

27. favorite food to eat im not too picky, really. my fave dish is fried rice tho.  28. scary movies or comedy i prefer scary movies, although im not a fan of horror. i like thrillers, moreso psychological thrillers. if a comedy is done well and doesnt rely on humiliating the main character (and if it isnt a rom-com), ill probably like it tho. 29. last movie you watched last movie i finished is Inside out. I in the middle of “The Duff” and “Batman vs Superman” on netflix, snrt 30. what color shirt are you wearing blue and black (i was sure the dress was white and gold tho) 31. summer or winter summer, i really like that one day each year we have, here in Norway. 32. hugs or kisses both :3c 33. what book are you currently reading does written-down theatre directions count? Heheh, well xcept for that im about to start reading a book that a friend of mine has written. its yet to be published but many common friends say its good n im hyped that shes gonna let me read it :D 34. who do you miss right now my dog cane. can i say that? hes right upstairs but my hands r cold n i kinda wanna wamr em on him.  35. what is on your mousepad dont have a mouse pad 36. what is the last TV program you watched we dont really have a tv? or, well, we have a tvscreen connected to a computer so we can watch netflix and hbo and nrk on it. im currently watching Shameless (us version), Designated Survivor. Waiting for a new episode of Riverdale and waiting for The Shadowhunters’ second season to finish so i can binge it. 37. what is the best sound laughter from friends and family, by a long shot 38. rolling stones or the beatles dont really listen too much to either, but rolling stones yeah 39. what is the furthest you ever traveled rhodes, greece 40. do you have a special talent i can pull both my feet behind my head, and cross em like the yoga-positon and walk in my knees by waddling back on forth. oh, and cross my hands, hold onto my ankles and walk/run til i fall. these r my partytricks. 41. where were you born norway 42. people you expect to participate in this survey

my friend, shybert

[loires]

tagged by @ritabuuk! thanks for tagging me. i’m sorry this took me a while to get to, haha...

Rules: Complete the survey and say who tagged you in the beginning. When you finished tag 5 people to do this survey. Have fun and enjoy!!!

1: Are you named after someone? nope. i don’t think so!

2: When was the last time you cried?  if we’re talking about full-on, intense, heavy sobbing, probably when i was watching the last episode of yuri!!! on ice back in december? to be honest, that entire day was filled with crying since all i was doing was watching the series, haha. i also teared up a bit some days back during an episode of voltron: legendary defender.

3: Do you like your handwriting?   uh, i think it’s okay? i’m indifferent, i think, haha.

4: What is your favorite lunch meat? turkey! i also like salami.

5: Do you have kids? nope.

6: If you were another person, would you be friends with you? hm, i think it would depend on what me as another person is like?

7: Do you use sarcasm? yep.

8: Do you still have your tonsils? yep.

9: Would you bungee jump? yes! i’d be super nervous and anxious, though, haha. i don’t know if i’d look for an opportunity on my own, but i’d definitely do it if given the chance.

10: What is your favorite kind of cereal? cereal with yogurt bits (like special k, fruit & yogurt)! i love yogurt bits.

11: Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? not really.

12: Do you think you’re a strong person? um, i think i’m all right. i do need to talk myself into doing things a lot before actually attempting to do them, though.

13: What is your favorite ice cream flavor? coffee!

14: What is the first thing you notice about people? hm. i’m not sure... their face? like eyes, skin... hair sometimes...

15: Red or pink? this is really hard... probably red?

16: What is the least favorite physical thing you like about yourself? my legs, haha. i get really self-conscious about them sometimes.

17: What color pants and shoes are you wearing now? white pajama bottoms with snowflake patterns. i’m barefoot right now, haha.

18: What was the last thing you ate? pasta! i just had dinner.

19: What are you listening to right now? nothing at the moment.

20: If you were a crayon, what color would you be?  mint green.

21: Favorite smell? fresh laundry, coffee, cinnamon.

22: Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? my mom.

23: Favorite sport to watch? swimming and tennis.

24: Hair color? really dark brown—almost black.

25: Eye color? brown.

26: Do you wear contacts? yep.

27: Favorite food to eat?  this is too hard, so i’m going to give a general answer, haha. i really like soup noodles and spicy food.

28: Scary movies or comedy? comedy. i hate scary movies, haha.

29: Last movie you watched? lone survivor, i think.

30: What color of shirt are you wearing? pale green.

31: Summer or winter? SUMMER. ALWAYS.

32: Hugs or kisses? hugs!

33: What book are you currently reading? i’m currently rereading scar night because i’m thinking about making something for one of the characters, haha.

34: Who do you miss right now? my best friend.

35: What is on your mouse pad?  uh... i don’t use a mouse pad, haha.

36: What is the last TV program you watched? voltron: legendary defender!

37: What is the best sound? laughter.

38: Rolling Stones or The Beatles? the beatles! my parents listened to them a lot, so it’s what i grew up with.

39: What is the furthest you have ever traveled? china or japan, probably?

40: Do you have a special talent? i don’t know if it’s special, but i can tie cherry stems into knots using only my tongue.

41: Where were you born? new jersey!

42: People you expect to participate in this survey? hm... maybe @officergraysons, @disjunkt, @solitaryparade & @finnjones if they’d like?